In this letter Paul expresses astonishment that certain unnamed teachers who seem to have insinuated themselves into his Galatian churches are persuading some members of those congregations to abandon the gospel that he had proclaimed to them. He is concerned, especially, that those gentile believers have been deceived into thinking that they must submit to various requirements of the Jewish law, including circumcision and the kosher table. The apostle seeks to refute this false teaching by asserting the divine origin of his law-free gospel and reminding the Galatians of its central affirmations.
Paul emphasizes that he proclaims J esus Christ as the crucified Son of God (2:20-21; 3:1, 13-14), and that Christ’s saving death has inaugurated a “new creation” (6:15) that believers experience as rectification (“justification” [2:16, 17, 21; 3:24; 5:4]) and freedom (2:4; 5:1, 13). Because “God shows no partiality” (2:6), this is “good news” for gentiles as well as for Jews (2:7-10; 3:28; 6:16).
What Paul means by the new creation, rectification, and freedom is expressed more concretely in a series of images. Believers are no longer enslaved to the “present evil age” (1:4), the law (3:23), the “elemental spirits of the world” (4:3), or their own desires (5:16-17). Having been “baptized into Christ,” they are also “clothed” with him (3:27) and adopted as God’s children (3:26; 4:1-3). They are therefore, even as gentiles, “Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise” (3:14-20, 29). Moreover, as “children of [God’s] promise” (4:28), they have received God’s Spirit (3:2, 5, 14; 4:6), by whom they are enabled to live out in the present the rectification already accomplished and to await with hope its ultimate fulfillment (5:5-6, 16-18, 22, 25; 6:8).
The explicit ethical appeals of this letter, which are concentrated in 5:13-6:10, are anticipated in the declaration that what matters most is not “circumcision” or “uncircumcision”—one’s relationship to the law—but “faith made effective through love” (5:6 NRSV mg.). For Paul, faith is elicited by God’s love as it has been revealed in the faithfulness of God’s Son, “who loved . . . and gave himself” for others (2:20). And faith is expressed concretely as believers become agents of God’s love in the world. Accordingly, the appeals in 5:13-6:10 highlight several ways in which the selfless love of Christ ought to be active in the lives of those who belong to him. Paul seems to be thinking especially of the perilous situation in the Galatian churches, where disputes about circumcision and other Jewish practices were turning Christian against Christian (5:15, 26 [note also, in 5:19-21, the inclusion of vices such as “strife,” “quarrels,” “dissensions,” and “factions” in his listing of “the works of the flesh”]).
The introductory appeal (5:13) urges the Galatians not to use their freedom to serve their own interests (literally, “the flesh”), but, paradoxically, to bind themselves to one another “through love,” as “slaves” are bound in service to their masters. Over against those who hold that gentile believers must adopt Jewish practices, Paul declares that the whole law is summed up in the one commandment to love the neighbor (5:14 [cf. “the law of Christ” in 6:2]). His summons to “live by the Spirit” (5:16-25) is also a call for the outworking of faith in love, for he regards love as the first and all-inclusive “fruit of the Spirit.” No less important, his concluding appeal (6:10) to “work for the good of all” enlarges the field of love’s service to include even those who stand outside the “family of faith.”
Three significant convictions inform and support the ethical appeals in this letter. (1) What matters most is not one’s adherence to religious rites and rules, but the “new creation” that God has inaugurated through Christ’s death on the cross (6:14-15) and “faith made effective through love” (5:6). (2) Those who have been “baptized into Christ” understand that one’s true identity is not contingent on religious, ethnic, social, or sexual status (3:27-28), but on one’s standing before God and in Christ (e.g., 2:19-20). (3) Life before God and in Christ is simultaneously life in the Spirit, through whose empowering presence believers are guided in the ways of love (5:16-25). These same convictions, variously developed and expressed, are evident throughout all of Paul’s letters.
See also Fruit of the Spirit; Love, Love Command; Vices and Virtues, Lists of
Bibliography
Barclay, J. Obeying the Truth: A Study of Paul’s Ethics in Galatians. SNTW. T&T Clark, 1988; Hays, R. “Galatians.” Pages 181-348 in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 11, ed. L. Keck. Abingdon, 2000; Martyn, J. Galatians. AB 33A. Doubleday, 1997.
Victor Paul Furnish
Gambling is playing any game of chance and probability, involving the voluntary wagering of money or sometimes property to win a monetary prize or item of value larger than the amount of the original wager. According to this definition, gambling is not found in the Bible.
Readers of the Bible sometimes mistake the casting of lots for gambling. Most instances of casting lots in the OT are examples where the ancient Israelites employed this practice to ask God to make a decision. Issues including the possession of land (Josh. 18:6, 8, 10; Neh. 11:1), how sacrifices to God are to be made (Lev. 16:8; Neh. 10:34), which persons would serve God in a specific ministry (1 Chr. 24:31; 25:8; 26:13-14), and deciding the guilt or innocence of persons (1 Sam. 14:42; Jon. 1:7) found resolution this way. The NT features this means of casting lots only once (Acts 1:26), when the apostles asked God if either Matthias or Justus would succeed Judas and join their ranks.
Other examples of casting lots in the Bible portray it as a convenient means for people to make a decision or determine the possession of slaves and property. Examples of this practice in the OT include the Persian leadership casting lots to determine the day they would execute their planned genocide against the Jews (Esth. 3:7; 9:24), and another situation where unspecified conquerors of Israel cast lots to determine who would take possession of Jerusalem (Obad. 11) and take Israelite nobles as slaves (Nah. 3:10). Another passage (Ps. 22:18) foreshadows the sole, and arguably most infamous, example of this other method of casting lots in the NT. All four Gospels portray the men responsible for crucifying Jesus casting lots to determine who would take possession of his tunic (Matt. 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34; John 19:24).
Neither is the parable of the talents (Matt. 25:14-30; Luke 19:12-27) an example of gambling in the Bible. The servants in the parable are engaged in acts of investing the master’s money. Admittedly, sound investment practices possess a degree of uncertainty that gives it a resemblance to gambling, but the similarity ends there. Good investors invest with a level of risk that is judged manageable. A highly skilled card player can use applied mathematics to increase the odds of a winning hand, but the level of risk remains intolerable for a responsible investor.
No explicit prohibition or endorsement of gambling can be found in the Bible because casting lots or using talents both lack one or more of its features. Nothing is wagered, and most outcomes are not left to chance but rather to God or individual prudential judgment. Therefore, it is not surprising that while Protestant and Orthodox churches generally prohibit gambling in all its forms, they rarely employ the Bible in their arguments opposing it. In those instances where the Bible is employed against gambling, it is used to support arguments that warn against its destructive personal and social effects. Gambling’s negative effects, in particular addiction and coveting the material gain of easy money either in the form of personal winnings or tax revenues at the expense of the majority of gamblers who lose money, are put forward as examples that violate Jesus’ commands to love God and neighbor (Mark 12:29-31). Gambling is viewed as also violating biblical principles of the responsible stewardship of resources to meet the legitimate needs of others (Eph. 4:28).
Official Roman Catholic teaching is drawn from virtue ethics, which Catholics understand is in agreement with the ethical principles found in the Bible. Gambling is not viewed as intrinsically evil as long as the wagering is free of corruption and does not involve high stakes, understood as endangering one’s ability to provide for personal needs and the needs of others. Within these parameters, justice is maintained because players are receiving the due consequences for their free participation in games of chance.
See also Debt; Economic Ethics; Greed; Stewardship Bibliography
Beardslee, W. “The Casting of Lots at Qumran and in the Book of Acts.” NovT 4 (1960): 249-52; Catholic Church, Catechism of the Catholic Church. 2nd ed. Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2000, §2413; Kitz, A. “The Hebrew Terminology of Lot Casting and Its Ancient Near Eastern Context.” CBQ 62 (2000): 207-14; Peck, J., and E. Alsgaard, eds. The Book of Resolutions of The United Methodist Church. United Methodist Publishing House, 2008, 553-56; Staple-ford, J. Bulls, Bears, and Golden Calves: Applying Christian Ethics to Economics. IVP Academic, 2002, 158-71.
Ramon Luzarraga
The use of the term gender as distinct from sex came to prominence within contemporary feminist literature wishing to emphasize the social con-structedness of male and female roles and images. If the nineteenth century discovered the constructed-ness of class and its hidden oppressions, the twentieth century can be said to have discovered gender and the similar hiddenness of binding expectations encapsulated in social mores, language, law, and sacred Scripture. A new literature and a new discipline of gender studies have emerged that comprise the study of social constructions surrounding roles that might once have been thought to be biologically prescribed; this might include either an analysis of subtle socialization and social pressures on men and women to act and take up gender-appropriate roles and occupations or a study of the media portrayal of image. Gender questions in the church have focused on feminist issues and on those surrounding headship and homosexuality.
Attending to gender not only reveals oppression but also brings to light hidden strengths and capacities. Thus, one of the central insights of twentieth-century feminism was that women’s perspectives had not been noticed. In her book In a Different Voice, Carol Gilligan discovered a new way to understand human morality, that which looks through a lens of care for others and not only the (equally valid) lens of impartial justice. Women were more likely to use the ethics of care, yet all empirical research to that time had attended only to the moral thinking of males.
There has long been discussion about the relative input of biology and culture in the making of human society and ethics. Yet even the biological categories are ill defined; at least 1 percent of humans are of indeterminate sexuality. For these individuals, questions surrounding gender and identity may be particularly vexing, as they are for those whose sense of gender does not correspond to their biological sex. The church has struggled in this area, seeking to find an elusive biblical truth beneath the morass of social identity construction, and either justifying or condemning homosexual practice and ordination.
With the unmasking of hidden oppressions comes also an awareness that power is closely tied to social differentiations of every kind. This is of interest theologically because Christ has called his followers to identify and to resist evil, and because Christ’s teaching (most clearly in Matt. 5) always subverted and resisted humanly constructed privilege. Important also has been the gender of God and the maleness of Christ; Yahweh is without gender, but any analysis of gender and theology quickly notes that God has become engendered within the tradition. Feminist theology has attended to questions of gender in common worship, prayer, and theology, where the use of male pronouns for God and humanity has produced what Brenda Brasher calls a “partitioned sacred canopy.” In the contemporary evangelical church, discussion about the roles of men and women has focused on the biblical motif of headship. For many women, the gendered nature of their church experience has been so overwhelming as to make Christian faith untenable.
Others have tried to redeem this state of affairs, pointing to trajectories of resistance in the narratives of Scripture, to surprisingly subversive language for God (e.g., Prov. 1:20; Isa. 42:14), and to Jesus as one who undermined gender expectations and social power structures in decisive ways (Mark 7:27). They would also point to the undermining of gender roles wherever the Holy Spirit has worked in new and surprising ways in biblical history and in the church.
All these discussions can be understood as seeking to discover what a virtuous life might look like for all. The diversity of answers—from submissive wife to God-filled teacher, from male hero to gentle provider or equal partner—reflects the fractured nature of the church today. That gender and “God” language are still considered to be largely nonconstructed in the church at large makes for added confusion in this area. Reflection on gender has indeed opened a can of theological worms, but it also has exposed hidden sin and shown the depth of Jesus’ redemptive overturning of human constructions of privilege.
See also Body; Creation, Biblical Accounts of; Equality; Feminist Ethics; Headship; Homosexuality; Marriage and Divorce; Sex and Sexuality; Sex Discrimination; Sexual Harassment; Virtue(s); Women, Status of
Bibliography
Cranny-Francis, A., et al. Gender Studies: Terms and Debates. Palgrave MacMillan, 2003; Gilligan, C. In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women’s Development. Harvard University Press, 1982; Storkey, E. Created or Constructed? The Great Gender Debate. Pasternoster, 2000; Young, I. Justice and the Politics of Difference. Princeton University Press, 1990.
Nicola Hoggard Creegan
Generosity is the virtue of unselfish giving or, by implication, giving that exceeds expectations. Although the related concept of goodness is prominent in the OT, the majority of explicit biblical references to generosity are found in the NT; half occur in the letters of Paul.
Generosity is, first, an attribute of God. The Bible describes God as one who “gives to all generously and ungrudgingly” (Jas. 1:5). Paul speaks of “the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ” (2 Cor. 8:9) and sees a specific connection between divine generosity and impartiality (Rom. 10:12). Such a connection may also be implied in Jesus’ parable of the generous landowner (Matt. 20:1-15), in which indiscriminate generosity is presented as scandalous. Specifically, the Bible portrays God as generous in providing humanity with the gifts of nature (Gen. 1:29-30; Matt. 5:45), in offering forgiveness of sins (Ps. 86:5; Rom. 5:6-8), and in responding to prayer (Matt. 7:7-11).
Human generosity is said to derive from God, as an attribute of godliness. Extraordinary generosity may be a gift of the Spirit given to some (Rom. 12:6-8), but generosity is also a fruit of the Spirit produced in all believers (Gal. 5:22). For this reason, “every generous act of giving” may be said to come from God (Jas. 1:17).
Although there is slight reference in the Bible to humans being generous toward God (as in offering generous sacrifices [Exod. 35:5]), the emphasis with regard to human generosity is on that which is shown to other people. The primary biblical interest, furthermore, lies in the economic realm. Hypothetically, people might be generous with regard to many things (their time, their affection, etc.), but in fact the virtue of generosity is almost always expressed in the Bible with reference to charitable financial giving, particularly on behalf of the needy (e.g., Prov. 22:9). In the psalms, such generosity is closely linked to both righteousness (Ps. 37:21) and justice (Ps. 112:5).
The Bible offers numerous examples of generous people: Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10), a poor widow (Mark 12:41-44), the women who provided for Jesus and his disciples (Luke 8:1-3), Barnabas (Acts 4:36-37) and other members of the Jerusalem church (Acts 2:46), Cornelius (Acts 10:2), the Macedonian believers (2 Cor. 8:1-2), and many others. Paul, in particular, exhorts believers to be generous (2 Cor. 8:7), not only because of the benefit that their giving provides to others but also because such charity proves the genuine character of their faith and brings glory or thanksgiving to God (2 Cor. 9:11-13 [cf. Matt. 5:16]).
The rich have a particular obligation to be generous (1 Tim. 6:17-18), but the Bible often attributes generosity to persons who are not wealthy (Mark 12:41-44; 2 Cor. 8:2). This leads to an important observation: generosity is not simply to be equated with extravagant giving, as motive is a significant factor. Jesus denounces those who make large gifts in order to enhance their prestige (Matt. 6:1); such people would not be called generous, no matter how large the gift might be. Accordingly, Christian piety and tradition often have linked the virtue of generosity with anonymity (Matt. 6:2-4). Although there may be warrants for sometimes recognizing the generosity of certain givers (see Mark 12:43-44; 2 Cor. 8:1-6), a desire to obtain such recognition should not be a motivating factor.
Christian teaching on generosity has emphasized the aspect of motive in other respects as well. Truly generous giving is distinct from that which might derive from an attempt to appease God or from a desire to heighten one’s position or influence within a community. Generosity is always to be associated with altruism. In particular, the hope that Christian giving will lead to material prosperity (as divine compensation) derives from a selfish materialism that Scripture regularly rebukes (e.g., 1 Tim. 6:9-10). This is not to deny the biblical promises that God rewards generosity (Prov. 11:25; Luke 6:38) but rather to emphasize that only unselfish giving is rewarded. The ironic teaching of Jesus is, essentially, “Expect nothing in return, and your reward will be great” (Luke 6:35; cf. 14:14).
Christian teaching also has extolled generosity to strangers and/or enemies. Jesus indicated that there is nothing special about people who do good to their own kind (Luke 6:33); his followers were to be known as people who give to everyone and do good to all, even those who hate them (Matt. 5:42-48; Luke 6:30-36). Jesus’ parable of the good Samaritan illustrates precisely this point: those who understand what Jesus means by “love your neighbor” will open their purses and use their money generously to meet the needs of people who do not affirm or even respect their religion (Luke 10:33-35).
Finally, generosity in Christian tradition is usually thought to imply an element of sacrifice: the rich who give out of their surplus are not being generous (cf. Mark 12:44). Thus, Christian stewardship sometimes draws a distinction between, on the one hand, proportionate giving that provides an appropriate level of support for one’s religious community, and, on the other hand, sacrificial giving that goes beyond what would be reasonably expected. The former is responsible (what everyone should do), but only the latter is to be regarded as generous. The virtue of generosity involves giving in an unexpected manner and at a sacrificial level that exceeds what common sense would deem appropriate.
See also Almsgiving; Altruism; Motive(s); Virtue(s); Wealth
Bibliography
Blue, R., with J. Berndt. Generous Living: Finding Contentment through Giving. Zondervan, 1997; Grimm, E. Generous People: How to Encourage Vital Stewardship. Abingdon, 1992; Hinze, D. To Give and Give Again: A Christian Imperative for Generosity. Pilgrim Press, 1990; Hoge, D., et al. Money Matters: Personal Giving in American Churches. Westminster John Knox, 1996; Powell, M. Giving to God: The Bible’s Good News about Living a Generous Life. Eerd-mans, 2006; Westerhoff, J. Grateful and Generous Hearts: A Pilgrim’s Stewardship Adventure. Morehouse, 1997.
Mark Allan Powell
The book of Genesis recounts stories of God’s creation of the world and the beginning of human civilization (chaps. 1-11) as well as the stories of the first generations of the ancestors of ancient Israel as they interacted with other nations, beginning with Abraham and Sarah (chaps. 12-50). God elects the line of Abraham and Sarah as God’s special people in order to bless them and so that they might be a blessing to “all the families of the earth” (12:1-3).
Human Community, the Image of God, and Human Vocation
In contrast to the polytheism of surrounding cultures, ancient Israel’s story of origins portrays their one God as responsible for all creation (1:1). God creates humans as social beings in community, “male and female” (1:27). God creates the humans “in the image of God” with a vocation to “have dominion” over the earth’s creatures (1:26-28; 5:1-2), a royal dominion like Israel’s kings, who were obligated to care for the most vulnerable members of their society (Ps. 72; Ezek. 34).
The “Goodness” of Creation and the Persistence of Evil
In the book of Genesis, God repeatedly pronounces the creation “good” and “very good” (1:4, 10, 12, 18, 21, 25, 30), affirming the value of the material world. The “goodness” of creation includes the gifts of Sabbath rest every seventh day (2:1-3; cf. Exod. 20:8-11), sexuality and procreation among God’s creatures (1:22, 28; 2:21-25), and the provision of abundant food (1:30; 2:9, 16; 9:1-4).
To call the creation “good,” however, does not indicate idealized perfection. The primeval and watery forces of chaos and evil (1:2) are not eliminated in creation but rather pushed to the margins though still present (1:6-7; 7:11). Similarly, the serpent that tempts the humans (Eve and Adam, “who was with her” [3:6]) to eat the forbidden fruit was a “wild animal that the Lord God had made” (Gen. 3:1), not an evil or satanic deity invading God’s creation from the outside.
Moral Ambiguity in the Human Characters of Genesis
As with the creation generally, the main characters in Genesis are good but also flawed. Adam and Eve are innocent and without shame (2:25), but eventually they disobey God (3:1-19). Noah is “righteous” before the flood (6:9), but after the flood things go awry (9:20-27). Abraham passes God’s dramatic “test” of trust and obedience (22:1, 12), but he also endangers others in order to protect his own safety (12:10-20; 20:1-18). Jacob was favored and blessed by God (25:23; 28:13-15), yet he deceives, swindles, and cons his way to success and wealth (25:29-34; 27:1-40). Joseph graciously forgives his brothers (45:4-15; 50:15-21), but he also enslaves starving Egyptians and confiscates their land (47:13-26; see also 15:13; 16:3-6). Joseph’s actions suggest that the Hebrews are as morally capable of enslaving and oppressing others as the Egyptians are (Exod. 1:8-14).
Violence and Glimpses of Reconciliation in Genesis
The use or threat of human violence spurred by jealousy or revenge is a constant motif present throughout Genesis. Cain murders his brother, Abel (4:8-16). Lamech threatens excessive revenge (4:23-24). Human violence is a primary reason for God sending the worldwide flood (6:11). After the flood, Nimrod arises as the world’s first warrior (10:9). Abraham defends against the military attacks of four kings (14:1-24). The inhabitants of the city of Sodom threaten Lot and his visitors with rape and violence (19:1-11). Abraham nearly kills his own son Isaac (22:1-19). Esau resolves to kill his twin brother, Jacob, for stealing his birthright (27:41; 32:6-7). A “man” wrestles and injures Jacob (32:22-32). Jacob’s sons kill all the male inhabitants of Shechem in retaliation for the rape of their sister Dinah (34:25-31). Joseph’s jealous brothers conspire to kill him before changing their minds and selling him as a slave (37:18-19). Years later the brothers fear that the now-powerful Joseph will inflict violent revenge against them (45:3; 50:15-21). In the midst of these ongoing threats and acts of violence, Genesis also offers important glimpses of reconciliation and peacemaking amid conflict (12:10-20; 13:5-13; 20:1-18; 21:22-34; 26:1-11, 17-33; 30:1-21; 31:4355; 33:4-11; 38:24-36; 45:1-15; 50:15-21).
Ethical Topics in Genesis
Numerous important and often controversial ethical issues arising from the Genesis narratives include the question of gender equality or inequality (1:27; 3:16; cf. Gal. 3:28; 1 Tim. 2:11-15), capital punishment in the case of human murder (4:8-16; 9:5-7), the historical use of Noah’s curse of Ham and Canaan as justification for African American slavery (9:24-27), the debate over whether the cultural and linguistic diversity at the end of the Babel story was a gift or punishment (11:1-9), the question of whether the sin of Sodom was homosexuality or inhospitality and violence (19:1-11), and the justification of using violence in response to the rape of Dinah (34:1-31). Interpreters have long wrestled with the question of how a loving God could command a father, Abraham, to kill his own son, Isaac, as a test of faith and obedience (22:1-19). In light of the urgency of current ecological concerns and global warming, the creation narratives of chapters 1-2 provide an important resource for ongoing ethical and religious reflection on the care of the earth and the relationships of God, humans, and the environment.
See also Capital Punishment; Creation, Biblical Accounts of; Creation Ethics; Ecological Ethics; Evil; Food; Forgiveness; Gender; Homosexuality; Image of God; Jealousy and Envy; Murder; Old Testament Ethics; Sabbath; Sex and Sexuality; Sin; Sodomy; Violence; Women, Status of; Work
Bibliography
Fretheim, T. “Genesis.” Pages 317-674 in vol. 1 of The New Interpreter’s Bible, ed. Leander Keck. Abingdon, 1994; Habel, N., and S. Wurst, eds. The Earth Story in Genesis. Pilgrim Press, 2000; Levenson, J. Creation and the Persistence of Evil: The Jewish Drama of Divine Omnipotence. Princeton University Press, 1994; idem. The Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son: The Transformation of Child Sacrifice in Judaism and Christianity. Yale University Press, 1993; Olson, D. “Untying the Knot? Masculinity, Violence, and the Creation-Fall Story of Genesis 2-4.” Pages 73-86 in Engaging the Bible in a Gendered World: Essays in Honor of Katharine Doob Sakenfeld, ed. C. Pressler and L. Day. Westminster John Knox, 2006; Trible, P. God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality. OBT. Fortress, 1978.
Dennis T. Olson
Gene Therapy See Bioethics Genetic Counseling See Bioethics Genetic Screening See Bioethics Genocide
The modern term genocide applies to ancient, historic, and contemporary atrocities for which there is no ethical justification. The term was coined by Polish jurist Raphael Lemkin in 1944 with the Holocaust in mind. It was adopted as a “crime against humanity” by some fifty nations of the United Nations in a “Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide” in 1958 as a supplement to the Declaration of Human Rights, and it was approved (with reservations) by many other nations, including the United States, by 1998, the fiftieth anniversary of the declaration. The International Criminal Court, founded in 2002, is authorized to try persons from any signatory on the charge of committing actions intended “to destroy in whole or in part a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group as such” (article 2). This formulation has been criticized, however, for it is not clear whether it differs from or includes pogrom, massacre of political dissidents, class warfare, ethnic cleansing, or goon-squad terrorism designed to force people to leave a territory but not designed to exterminate a people.
The list of genocidal atrocities from world history makes even the most optimistic humanist have second thoughts about human nature and “original sin.” No century or region is exempt. Even the “short century” from World War I to the fall of the Berlin Wall has a bloody record that includes the Ottoman Turks’ massacre of the Armenians (1915—17); the Nazis’ treatment of Jews, Gypsies, and Slavs (1930s-40s); Stalin’s purges (1930s); the attacks on the Ibo of Nigeria (1966); the Tutsi-Hutu conflicts (1972, 1994); the “killing fields” of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia (1975-78); and the Iraqi chemical bombing of the Kurds (1988), to mention only the most notorious. Ongoing charges of genocide are made regarding Serbia, Bosnia, Kosovo, and Darfur. In each case, a people is dehumanized, killer groups are organized, and responsibility is denied.
Those who draw their ethical views from Scripture must face the fact that the ancient Israelites’ treatment of the Canaanites (see especially Josh. 1-12) is not far removed from genocide and is often understood as “holy war” (or “righteous arms”). As Joshua describes it, during the “conquest” and, later, when Israel was under pressure from desert tribes on one side and coastal Philistines on the other, the people of the exodus undertook wars of extermination that were bloody, frequent, and celebrated.
European settlers in North and South America as well as South Africa sometimes have used biblical passages to justify their conquests of indigenous peoples. However, Scripture and Christian doctrine concerning God’s care for all peoples and concerning just and unjust wars have generated condemnation of such policies and legitimated the passing of international laws for the criminalization of genocide.
See also Conquest; Joshua; Killing Bibliography
January, B. Genocide: Modern Crimes against Humanity. Twenty-First Century Books, 2006; Jones, A. Genocide: A Comprehensive Introduction. Routledge, 2006.
Max L. Stackhouse
Modernity was marked by the rise of the nationstate; the development of postfeudal national economies; the growth of international cultural, scientific, and technological exchange; and the spread of religious pluralism, activist missions, and democratic ideals. It also saw an increase of colonialism, imperialism, and militarism while promising an era of perpetual peace and progress based on what were presumed to be universal humanistic values and secular reason. The promise was only ambiguously fulfilled, and the benefits of modernity have been limited by the postmodern fragmentation of older stablilities and the sense of loss of comprehensive meaning and values. That has brought both reactions against the disruptions of traditional beliefs and social orders and, more important, the emergence of vast new patterns of interdependence, the resurgence and reformation of religious traditions, the articulation of universal moral principles such as human rights, and acts of humanitarian intervention that compromise national sovereignty and exceed secular reason.
This new interdependence is today commonly called “globalization,” and the economic effects of the dynamics driving it often are taken to be its causes, although economic interest is only one among a host of causes and is not new. In fact, multiple causes—religious, moral, social, technological, and cultural—have made economic changes both possible and in some cases necessary. Thus, if the dynamic to which globalization points is to be understood, multiple levels of interactive causation shaping a new postmodern public have to be recognized.
The term globalization was introduced in the 1950s by social theorist Roland Robertson as a worldwide set of dynamic changes that is creating a comprehensive context that influences every local context, all peoples, all nations, and the ecology of the earth itself. And it is demanding ethical responses. This dynamic has precedents in many Western developments prior to modernity, largely spurred by Christian convictions, although there is evidence of parallel trends in some non-Western religions and societies, especially where univer-salistic elements in classic worldviews prompted them to adopt or adapt similar patterns to become agents of globalization.
Specialists in various fields, however, treat the globalizing changes in terms of their own disciplines and often tend to attribute the dynamics to the factors that most interest them. Thus, economists (and both business leaders and critics suspicious of business) treat globalization as an economic dynamic. They see capitalist practices and institutions (which some celebrate and others excoriate) that can leap over the borders of nations to find raw material and customers to whom goods or services are sold (some say benefiting many, and others say impoverishing more). The debates over the facts are intense, but the best evidence strongly suggests that the growth of new middle classes is the chief result. Capitalist economies, however, are not autonomous. They depend on laws that legitimize and regulate corporations as employers and owners of capital, on ever-changing technological means of production that alter the ecosphere and involve the responsible management of nature, and on a literate labor force willing and able to work in industrialized settings—all of which require a relatively stable and open political environment, with educational systems and communications networks that allow people to exchange information, goods, and services over great distances.
More general definitions seek perspectives that are based in more comprehensive fields of study and a philosophy or theology of history. It is likely that contemporary globalization is essentially a civilizational shift, signaling a change like the shifts from tribal societies to feudal then urban societies, and then to the industrialized nation-states of modernity, now being superseded—though these forms of society continue to exist and have differing degrees of difficulty in adjusting to the multitude of globalizing influences. Each historic shift was shaped by both economic and political factors and by dominant religious and ethical transformations of culture and society. Such forces are now forming the infrastructure of what could become a new, transnational civil society—poten-tially a global civilization. It would be decidedly dynamic, incredibly complex, and increasingly inclusive if not fully equitable in its distribution of benefits. However, those who have attempted to study globalization as a comprehensive shift argue that more people gain from it than lose, a fact that continues to encourage the globalizing forces, even if those in tribal or peasant societies often are left behind.
To be sure, this partially formed global civil society, as messy, pluralistic and conflictual as it is, is developing without its being under the control of any single nation-state, although the hegemonic power of the West is notable and the least advantaged segments of the world’s population often turn to local state intervention in every sector of social life to seek inclusion in the global dynamics so that they can gain from them and be protected from disruptive changes. More developed lands, especially the United States, Great Britain, the European Union, and Japan, plus increasingly China, India, Russia, and Brazil, are rapidly adapting to the changes demanded, taking advantage of the opportunities afforded, and thus reinforcing the developments and arrangements that intensify globalizing developments. These lands are also among the first to be negatively affected when global interactions falter due to rising energy costs or the failure of complex financial institutions, and their difficulties affect those least able to cope.
Thus, the effects of these dynamic trends are not entirely rosy, nor are they only economic in nature. Diseases such as HIV/AIDS, crime based in drugs and human trafficking, terrorism using suicide or car bombs, the threats of biological or nuclear weaponry, the lack of access to educational or healthcare institutions, the effects of ecological degradation and climate warming, and the personal and social disruptions caused by unstable family life—all these are global trends most severely felt by those people otherwise left behind by globalizing dynamics.
For all its distresses, however, today’s globalization may only be one of a series of historic transformations of culture now reaching the whole world. For after humanity spread to most parts of the earth and developed distinctive local religions and societies, some began to find ways to develop links among them. Driven by cultural curiosity, a desire for adventure, religious zeal, hopes to learn from others, a quest for profitable trade, a lust for power, and a love for the exotic, people created routes of travel between west and east, north and south. For instance, combinations of material and ideal interests drove merchants and adventurers, monks and literati, to develop and use a variety of treks collectively called the old Silk Road that joined Turkey with China, with connecting routes in the West to Europe, Arabia, and Africa, and in the East to Korea and J apan. For centuries, goods, ideas, gold, and pieties were exchanged, and civilizations were enriched.
Centuries later, new technologies, fostered by the view that nature was fallen and needed repair and that transformations could more nearly approximate a promised cosmopolitan city, supplanted old, and camel caravans were replaced by clipper ships and then steamships. These accelerated the exploration of the continents and the colonization of new portions of the globe. They also facilitated the expansion both of slavery and missionary activity in unprecedented numbers. As morally repugnant as slavery was and as noble in intent as missionary work was, new unintended cultural syntheses were generated and wider visions of humanity became more common in the long run, prompting the formation of myriad “nongovernmental organizations” dedicated to humanitarian aid. New worldviews were created as it became more possible to speak of a common “humanity” with aspirations for human rights, emancipation, development, and the modernization of education, medicine, social life, and religious freedom.
Today’s globalization may be another such wave of development, marked by new means of communication from jumbo jets to the Internet, new prospects of bioengineering and ecoengineering, and new interchanges between cultures and religions. The increased ability to control the biophysical world, including the capacity to destroy it, forces all peoples to consider what values, principles, and purposes should drive our responses to globalization’s promises and perils. It is widely recognized, for example, that those now left out of the promises must be given special attention and the option of selectively adopting those aspects of globalization that are appropriate to their needs.
Equally striking is the dramatic resurgence of the world religions. This suggests that a quest for a guiding ethical and spiritual worldview is widely sought, one that can render a compelling, overarching vision of morals and meaning for our time, and one that is sufficiently complex that it can take account of the incredible complexities of many cultures and societies while being sufficiently simple to capture the loyalties of the world’s peoples.
A biblical perspective on globalization would surely be able to draw from the several universal-istic themes that run as golden threads throughout the Scriptures and have stamped subsequent history. Clearly, the creation story conveys the fundamental idea that God created the heavens and the earth, filled them with the potential for life, and saw them as good. It also conveys the idea that humanity is created in the image and likeness of God, thus with a conferred dignity and both commissioned and empowered to develop creation’s potential in a stewardly fashion that accords with God’s laws and purposes. Indeed, men and women are given a “cultural mandate” to form a society and a culture that builds on and enhances what is given in nature while observing the moral limits established by the Creator. The paradigmatic father and mother of humanity, like all their descendants, did not observe the limits and were cast out of the state of innocence into historical existence, as are all subsequent generations. Still, the residue of God’s primal dignity, commission, and empowerment remains: sinful humans are to be agents of development toward a just, flourishing community.
A second set of universal themes runs throughout the Bible: peoples and persons are called to guide the rest of humanity to righteous living and serving the common good, even in the midst of evils, tragedies, and betrayals. The Hebrews are led from slavery to freedom, and then they are given universally valid commandments that can guide all people in their ethical duties to God and to neighbors. And prophets, priests, and political leaders are raised up and anointed to preach, teach, and organize the common life so that the people become aware of and faithful to God’s providence when life goes bad. Indeed, the people so led come to expect that a messiah will be sent from God to heal the sinfulness that makes things go bad and to inaugurate a new era in civilizational history.
And, finally, Jesus is sent into the world to begin the new era, one that reflects the fact that Christ has taken all the sins of the world on himself in such a way that his life, death, and resurrection point to the reality of the reign of God working within and among humanity. It is the discernment that invites all who get the point of this event to accept a new commission to go unto all the world and proclaim the gospel of redemption from sin and evil—a redemption that has already happened in principle and will culminate in its full realization in a new heaven and a new earth and filled with a new complex civilization, the new Jerusalem, to which all the nations will bring their gifts. Here is the outline of the promising vision toward which a biblically based, fundamental public theology of history may well point when it considers globalization. If so, our ethics in the meantime, before the final possibilities are realized, will be shaped to enhance those aspects of globalization that bear such a promise, reform those aspects that could but do not at this time, and repudiate those developments that inhibit or block the world’s movement in this sanctifying direction.
See also Capitalism; Class Conflict; Colonialism and Postcolonialism; Creation Ethics; Culture; Ecological Ethics; Economic Development; Emancipation; Human Rights; Kingdom of God; Pluralism; Religious Toleration; Technology; Urbanization; World; World Poverty, World Hunger
Bibliography
Berger, P., and S. Huntington, eds. Many Globalizations: Cultural Diversity in the Contemporary World. Cambridge University Press, 2002; Bhagwati, J. In Defense of Globalization. Cambridge University Press, 2003; Friedman, T. The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-first Century. Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2005; Huntington, S. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of the World Order. Simon & Schuster, 1998; Kung, H. A Global Ethic for a Global Politics and Economics. Oxford University Press, 1997; Mandelbaum, M. The Case for Goliath: How America Acts as the World’s Government in the Twenty-first Century. Public Affairs, 2005; Raschke, C. GloboChrist: The Great Commission Takes a Postmodern Turn. Baker Academic, 2008; Rifki, I. Spiritual Perspectives on Globalization: Making Sense of Economic and Cultural Upheaval. Skylight Paths, 2004; Robertson, R. Globalization: Social Theory and Global Culture. Sage, 1992; Stackhouse, M., et al. God and Globalization. 4 vols. Continuum, 2000—2007; Stiglitz, J. Making Globalization Work. W. W. Norton, 2007; Wolf, M. Why Globalization Works. Yale University Press, 2004.
Max L. Stackhouse
Gluttony is the excessive and/or inappropriate intake of something, principally food and drink. Considered one of the seven deadly sins, it received considerable censure during the Middle Ages but has been largely ignored in the contemporary moral landscape.
Gluttony is often confused with greed, another deadly sin, as both involve issues of inappropriate gathering and intake of something (food, money, information, etc.). The difference lies in the underlying motivation, gluttony being driven by the pleasure of the consumption itself (usually of food), and greed stemming from the pleasure and security derived from acquisition and hoarding (usually of money).
Attending to Scripture
Given the attention paid to gluttony through much of Christian history, there is a surprising paucity of references to gluttony in the Bible. The ones present, however, are decidedly severe in tone. Proverbs characterizes gluttony as unwise and leading to poverty and instructs the reader to “put a knife to your throat if you have a big appetite,” as the delicacies of a ruler are deceptive (Prov. 23:2-3).
Such diverse books as Deuteronomy, Proverbs, Philippians, and Titus associate gluttony with disobedience, drunkenness, rebellion, and even death. Contrasted with wise children who keep the law, the “companions of gluttons shame their parents” (Prov. 28:7). Gluttony is practiced by the rebellious son who deserves to be stoned to death (Deut. 21:18-21). People for whom “their god is the belly” are focused on earthly things and will end up in destruction (Phil. 3:19). And the disreputable Cretans are dishonest, lazy, and vicious in addition to being gluttons; moreover, they are teaching a corrupted truth “for sordid gain” and must be sharply rebuked (Titus 1:10-14).
The sole Gospel reference (Matt 11:18-19 // Luke 7:33-34) is more characterization than definition, with Jesus labeled a glutton by “the people of this generation” as an apparent attempt to discredit his ministry because of his association with unacceptable people.
The Tradition and Scripture
The idea of gluttony as sin was known to the early church. For example, Chrysostom issued a (regrettably anti-Semitic) denunciation of those who consumed without remorse. The Middle Ages saw the height of attention to the vice, notably as one of the seven deadly sins. Gregory I named gluttony “the enemy dwelling within us” that can lead to loss of all the virtues through lust for food. Thomas Aquinas follows Gregory in defining gluttony as five paths to error in eating: hastily, sumptuously, daintily, too much, greedily. Yet he goes further and identifies gluttony with “turning away from our final end” and “abandoning our true destiny,” which accounts for it being a mortal sin. In taking more food than is needed, gluttons sin against both themselves and others.
Attention to gluttony as sin faded during the Renaissance, and by the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, its designation as a deadly sin began to be replaced by an increasingly medical vocabulary. At present, the language of addiction and “eating disorders” has almost entirely replaced the traditional concept of gluttony.
Contemporary Applications
As many in the Western world become increasingly overweight, a reexamination of the ethical significance of gluttony becomes more important. Although medical and addiction models are helpful, they fail to fully describe both the roots and the consequences of disordered eating. People today would do well to remember the medieval concern about gluttons being incapacitated by their food and to consider that human bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit.
There is also a causal connection between gluttony and injustice: what we consume, others cannot. This transcends questions of mere volume. As the Western world grows more accustomed to having a stunning variety of foodstuffs from which to choose at any moment, Thomas Aquinas’s injunction against eating daintily and sumptuously assumes a new importance. Both overeating and dieting drain resources that might have gone to care for others.
Finally, although eating is normally a communal activity, through gluttony it can become isolating. Through gluttony “we place ourselves apart, even at a table of sharing” (Fairlie 155). With table fellowship being a central activity for the church both present and ancient, such breaking of communion reinforces the serious nature of this once-deadly sin.
See also Alcohol; Body; Desire; Food; Seven Deadly Sins; Temperance
Bibliography
Fairlie, H. The Seven Deadly Sins Today. University of Notre Dame Press, 1979; Hill, S. “ ‘The Ooze of Gluttony’: Attitudes Towards Food, Eating, and Excess in the Middle Ages.” Pages 57—70 in The Seven Deadly Sins: From Communities to Individuals, ed. R. Newhauser. SMRT 123. Brill, 2007; Olson, J. “Once a Deadly Sin: A Reassessment of the Sin of Gluttony.” ThM thesis, Western Seminary, 2000; Prose, F. Gluttony. Oxford University Press, 2003; Thomas Aquinas. Summa theologiae II-II, q. 148.
Maria Kenney
The Bible makes it unequivocally clear that God is holy and just, entirely free from moral evil. His invitation to humanity, even after their treasonous act(s) of rebellion, is to consecrate life in radical responsiveness to his suffering love on their behalf and to reflect his just character in relationships with others. Godliness denotes devotion to God, characterized by a life of conformity to his character and determination to honor him in conduct.
The OT word that denotes godliness, hasid, occurs thirty-four times and refers to what is holy, good, godly. In the OT, true godliness is associated with covenant loyalty, steadfastness, faithfulness: “for there is no longer anyone who is godly; the faithful have disappeared” (Ps. 12:1); “the Lord has set apart the faithful for himself” (Ps. 4:3); “And what does the one God desire? Godly offspring” (Mal. 2:15).
The relevant NT terminology, from the euseb-family, occurs as follows: fifteen times as a noun,
three times as an adjective, twice as an adverb, and twice in verb form. The predominant use of this word signifies piety, devotion, or reverence. Although the whole of the Scripture shapes the significance of this concept, the terminology of godliness appears especially in the Pastoral Epistles (thirteen times), where it describes the Christian life. In the NT world, the term godly commonly described respect for Greek and Roman gods and for the orders of society. This may explain the infrequent use of the term in the LXX and in large portions of the NT.
In the letters to Timothy and to Titus, we find that a person who wishes to arrive at knowledge of the truth must be of pure mind and heart, good conscience, and sincere in faith. In Eden, the serpent brought a lie into a world that had been counseled against experimenting with the knowledge of good and evil. The serpent’s deception introduced falsehood into human relations and doubt about the goodness of God. As God’s Spirit in creation hovered over darkness and spoke to bring order out of chaos, so does his Spirit and speech (especially “the word made flesh” in Jesus [John 1:14]) reconstitute hearts and minds today, enabling them to come to a knowledge of truth.
Godliness, then, is fundamentally ascertained by intercourse with and enablement by the Spirit of God, something more than ethical reasoning or principled moral living. Frequently, the Pastoral Epistles couple life and doctrine, godliness and knowledge of truth, piety and contentment. Conversely, the ungodly are those who depart from truth, become embroiled in meaningless controversies, and abandon the faith. Their lives are marked by preoccupation with pleasure, gossiping and boasting; they succumb to deception, and a searing of the conscience. Furthermore, we read of a formal godliness that outwardly appears religious but that carries no power (2 Tim. 3:5). J. I. Packer observes three errors that recur in the church’s pursuit of godliness: (1) legalism that emphasizes ethical effort to the neglect of faith and worship; (2) antinomianism that emphasizes faith and worship to the neglect of ethical behavior; and (3) formalism that emphasizes external behavior to the neglect of motivation (Packer 410). Essential to NT godliness is the divine knowledge and power of Christ, which supplies “everything needed for life and godliness” (2 Pet. 1:3). Such godliness unites faith, ethics, and transformation of the inner desires.
The Pastoral Epistles provide young leaders with moral directives that give shape to godliness. The implication is that one can be “trained in godliness” (1 Tim. 4:7), and that godliness will manifest itself in concrete acts often considered from the vantage point of their social impact. The writer’s exhortations include aiming at love, submitting to the Scriptures, praying for those in authority, showing modesty in dress, being hospitable to guests, managing well one’s children and the affairs of one’s household, giving thanks, showing respect to elders and masters, employing one’s spiritual gift, exercising purity toward the young, willingly enduring suffering, avoiding quarrels and profane speech, shunning youthful passions, and doing good works. The practice of such godliness is typically subversive and countercultural. In fact, 2 Tim. 3:1-9 warns that godlessness will characterize the last days, which bring distress, corruption, and counterfeit faith. Godlessness is destructive of persons, families, and society, and it is especially reprehensive when those appointed to spiritual leadership abandon it as the rule of their life. In navigating such turbulent waters, the loyal child of God can drop anchor in the eschatological hope of eternal life. Godliness, then, holds promise for this life and for the life to come, fitting the former with contentment and the latter with immortality.
See also Holiness; 1-2 Timothy; Titus Bibliography
Packer, J. I. “Godliness.” Pages 410-11 in New Dictionary of Christian Ethics and Pastoral Theology, ed. D. Atkinson and D. Field. InterVarsity, 1995.
Chris A. Kiesling
The Golden Rule is the designation for Jesus’ command to his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount: “[Therefore] in everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets” (Matt. 7:12; cf. Luke 6:31).
Mark 12:31 and Rom. 13:9 similarly indicate that the law is summed up by the command “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” a quotation from Lev. 19:18. This suggests that Jesus’ formulation likewise refers to Lev. 19:18.
The appearance of “therefore” in Matt. 7:12 indicates that the Golden Rule is based on God’s trustworthiness and mercy in Matt. 7:11. Similarly, Mark 12:31; Luke 6:31-36; and Lev. 19:18 link the Golden Rule with God’s gracious mercy as the Lord. God does not merely reciprocate; God initiates.
Versions of this principle are found in many world religions. For example, in Hinduism there is the saying “This is the sum of duty: do not do
to others what would cause pain for you” (Maha-babharata 5.1517); in Confucianism, “Do not do to others what you would not have them do for you” (Analects of Confucius 15:23); in Buddhist writings, “Hurt not others in ways you yourself would find hurtful” (Udana-Varga 5.18); in ancient Greek philosophy, “May I do to others as I would they should do unto me” (Plato, Laws II); in Judaism, in addition to Lev. 19:18, “Do not do to your neighbor what is hateful to you; this is the whole Law, all else is commentary” (b. Sabb. 31a), and “What you hate, do not do to anyone” (Tob. 4:15).
The Golden Rule thus functions, both in Jesus’ teaching and elsewhere, as an overarching principle of initiating what one wishes others to reciprocate. It seeks to form in persons an other-centered view of the universe. Parents and teachers have used it to help form virtues of caring and hospitality. The early church received this precept in both negative and positive formulations (Luz 427).
The parallels in many different moral systems suggest to many that this precept fits the created order and is evidence of “general revelation” (apart from the special revelation in Scripture) or “natural law.” Removed from the context of the rest of Jesus’ teaching on God’s mercy and trustworthiness as guiding norm, the Golden Rule is neither unique nor the most radical of Jesus’ teachings. It and other religious moral standards stand in stark contrast to the laissez-faire ethic of the marketplace that makes self-interest the guiding virtue.
See also Comparative Religious Ethics; Imitation of Jesus; Sermon on the Mount
Bibliography
Bauman, C. The Sermon on the Mount: The Modern Quest for Its Meaning. Mercer University Press, 1985; Luz, U. Matthew 1—7. Trans. W. Linss. CC. Fortress, 1992; Schrage, W. The Ethics of the New Testament. Trans. D. Green. Fortress, 1987; Stassen, G. Living the Sermon on the Mount: Practical Hope for Grace and Deliverance. Jossey-Bass, 2006; Verhey, A. The Great Reversal: Ethics and the New Testament. Eerdmans, 1984.
Michael Westmoreland-White
In attempting to survey the meaning of “the good” for a dictionary devoted to Scripture and ethics, it may be useful to recall that our ancestors frequently referred to the Bible itself as the “Good Book,” as do many people today. What is the meaning of “the good” in the Good Book? What can we learn from the more than six hundred passages in, for example, the NRSV, that contain the word good? The range of meanings evident in these biblical passages generally reflects ordinary uses of the term, but they are clearly prephilosophical in content. They presuppose common sense and do not seek to clarify “the good” in distinction from other moral categories, such as “right” or “appropriate,” or to develop some kind of value theory or alternative philosophical hypothesis, certainly not before actually using these terms to communicate basic moral attitudes and assert specific moral judgments. Such observations might lead to the conclusion that the Bible does not teach ethics, if by “ethics” one means what postanalytic moral philosophy seeks to clarify and regulate. Scriptural ethics, nevertheless, is not an oxymoron, for the ways in which moral terms are used in the Bible actually provide, if not a normative basis for criticizing postanalytic moral philosophy, a rich field for investigating whether and how such philosophical theories are relevant for understanding either biblical perspectives on morality or criticizing the way of life emergent from them.
Perhaps the most philosophically provocative discussion of “the good” occurs in the conversation between Jesus and the rich man (Mark 10:17-22; pars. Matt. 19:16-22; Luke 18:18-23). Addressed politely as “Good Teacher,” Jesus responds with an unsettling question: “Why do you call me good?” And then he asserts, “No one is good but God alone.” Nevertheless, the young man’s question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” elicits a reply, “You know the commandments . . . ,” to which Jesus’ inquirer responds, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Mark then recounts how the conversation ended: “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”
All three Synoptic Gospel accounts turn this incident into a meditation on the cost of disciple-ship and whether the rich can ever become true disciples, but Matthew’s version (19:16-22) omits Jesus’ refusal to be addressed as “Good Teacher.” Instead, the rich young man simply asks, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” Jesus replies, “Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good.” After their brief exchange regarding the commandments, in which the young man seeks advice on which ones to focus, J esus says, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give the money to the poor.” Both versions of the story are significant for analyzing what “the good” might mean in scriptural ethics. In Mark’s rendering, Jesus relativizes all ordinary meanings of the good by judging them according to the single and transcendent norm of God’s own goodness. That God’s goodness is and ought to be the touchstone of any and all human good echoes down through the whole of the Bible from the very first chapter of Genesis, where after each step in creating the universe God is imagined as observing the effects of his own word and declaring them “good . . . good . . . good . . . very good.”
Mark’s account, second, links the good not only with the reality of God but also with the Decalogue, the “Ten Words” given by God to Moses as part of the sequence of events renewing the covenant between God and Israel (Exod. 20:1-17). As a practical matter, Jesus’ response to the rich man confirms that God has indicated what is good for humanity in the Ten Commandments. Read against the categories of modern philosophical ethics, Jesus’ response seems to support a robustly theocentric value theory warranting the priority of deontological moral reasoning over merely teleological or utilitarian considerations. The good ultimately must be understood in terms not of what ordinary people find desirable or undesirable, but rather of what, as James Gustafson puts it, God enables us to be and to do. But there is more to the story.
Mark’s account, third, violates the boundaries of any conventional understanding of deontological ethics. After all, the rich man confesses himself to be an ideal moral agent, even according to the Bible’s own standard: he has kept all the commandments from boyhood on. What he yet lacks is not named, but it is suggested in an unexpected directive: “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me” (Mark 10:21). Serious students of scriptural ethics have been trying to comprehend the meaning of that command ever since. It seems a direct assault on all reasonable standards of human decency, mutual regard, and common sense—in short, everything that people take for granted about what is good. Interpreted literally, as Clement of Alexandria (150-215 CE) already pointed out, it entails committing financial suicide, thereby putting not only one’s own life in jeopardy but also that of one’s family. That the rich man went away sad is quite understandable.
But if not interpreted literally, what does this command mean? The riches that this man could not part with are tokens of what people generally regard as the good. He is wealthy either by inheritance, or good fortune, or sheer ingenuity and hard work. Now he is invited to regard the good that these represent as an obstacle to acquiring the one thing that is good beyond any other good: eternal life. Whatever else it may signify, eternal life is a good that cannot be possessed. There may be others related to it—our personal relationships, for example—but such goods are not objects to be acquired or exchanged for other goods; they are invitations to be accepted and adhered to. They shift the meaning of happiness or success toward an open-ended loyalty or commitment, what Christians recognize as faithfulness. Hence, Jesus’ final words to the rich man: “Then come, follow me.”
What is at stake in Jesus’ subversive discourse on the good is not only difficult to describe but also nearly impossible to live by consistently. No wonder that the Synoptic Gospels move so quickly into a moralistic reflection on the problems of rich people. Jesus’ saying is quoted at this point: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God” (Mark 10:25; Matt. 19:24; Luke 18:25). Even so, the challenge posed by “Come, follow me” is not specific to rich people or, if you will, people blessed with more than their share of the good. If the ultimate good—eternal life—is to be pursued, the rich man and any other serious seekers must acquire the habits of mind and heart that will enable them to regard all goods no longer as possessions. If Jesus’ invitation is to be accepted, the all-too-human sense of entitlement regarding whatever we experience as good must be abandoned.
Matthew’s redaction of this story is one way of attempting to conceptualize what the rich young man still lacks. He renders the good as an abstraction and contrasts it with what is perfect. “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor; and you will have treasure in heaven” (Matt. 19:21). Becoming perfect means finding a way to get beyond being good. Perfection, in Matthew’s Gospel, is not simply a superlative, as in “good, better, best.” In his rendering of the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew remembers Jesus saying, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48). What is meant by “perfection” in this context is unclear, for although the term suggests completion or accomplishment in other biblical writings, here it is identified with God’s own reality. Nevertheless, in Matthew’s redaction, Jesus does preface his invitation with the supposition, “If you want to be perfect. . . .” The “eternal life” sought by the rich young man not only demands more than conventional standards of goodness, it also invites the reader to an open-ended personal relationship with Jesus, a fellowship intending spiritual transformation: “Then come, follow me.”
What this story ultimately suggests regarding the role of the good in scriptural ethics is that what people commonly regard as good is not to be taken at face value. God is the source of all goodness, as well as any genuine insight into its nature. Achieving such an insight and living by it consistently means learning to set aside our own preferences and embrace God’s will for us. It means following God’s way, which may require us to surrender everything that we value as good as we seek a home in God’s presence. This challenge communicates no information that was not already implicit in the biblical story as a whole. It merely underscores the point made in the book of Micah the prophet: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Mic. 6:8). That humanity’s good requires people to act justly and love mercy may or may not be common sense. But the invitation to “walk humbly with your God,” if accepted, sets people on a path where common sense itself, and all the world’s moral philosophies responsive to it, may have to be surrendered if we are to reach our ultimate good. As a result, once the biblical meanings of “the good” are taken seriously, any ethics claiming to be scriptural is likely to appear oblique, if not obtuse, from the standpoint of conventional moral philosophy.
See also Godliness; Imitation of Jesus; Perfection Bibliography
Girard, R. The Girard Reader, ed. J. Williams. Crossroad, 1996; Gustafson, J. Can Ethics Be Christian? University of Chicago Press, 1977; Hauerwas, S. The Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics. University of Notre Dame Press, 1991; Kirk-Duggan, C. Refiner’s Fire: A Religious Engagement with Violence. Fortress, 2000; McCann, D., and P. Miller, eds. In Search of the Common Good. TTC. T&T Clark, 2005; Spohn, W. What Are They Saying about Scripture and Ethics? Rev. ed. Paulist Press, 1995.
Dennis P. McCann
In traditional Christian theology, goodness is a transcendental predicate of being. This means that things are understood to be true, beautiful, and good insofar as they participate in God, who is the summum bonum, or ultimate good. Augustine was one of the chief articulators of a Christian understanding of God as the highest and unchangeable good from which all other good things, spiritual and corporeal, appear. Augustine both utilized and critiqued Platonic philosophy to explicate the nature of the good, but his identification of God as summum bonum comes from Scripture.
Attending to Scripture
Goodness plays a central role in Scripture’s story of creation, fall, and redemption. In Gen. 1 God describes all creation, including humanity, as “very good.” Additionally, human beings hold a special place in creation as the “image of God” (Gen. 1:26, 31). The first person, Adam, is given the special duty of tending the garden and naming all the other creatures. However, in Gen. 3, Adam and Eve are tempted into wanting more than their privileged place in creation by the serpent, who tells them that they will obtain the knowledge of God if they eat of “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Gen. 3:3-5). The “original sin” of Genesis is the attempt to know good from evil independently of God in order to obtain equality with God. The opening stories of Genesis identify how God is the a priori ground by which creatures can know goodness because goodness derives from God. Jesus echoes this truth in Mark 10:18 (cf. Luke 18:19) when he declares, “No one is good but God alone.”
Philippians describes the reversal of original sin. Whereas Adam and Eve conceived equality with God as something to be grasped, Jesus “did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited. . . . He humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on the cross” (Phil. 2:6, 8). Jesus’ obedience exemplifies a right relationship between creature and the Creator and demonstrates how knowledge of goodness comes by living faithfully to God.
Attending to Tradition
Augustine argued against pagan understandings of goodness in order to “make clear the great difference between their hollow realities and our hope, the hope given us by God” (Civ. 19.1). Whereas pagans identify the summum bonum with temporal and immanent realities, Augustine sees faith, as described in several scriptural passages, as restoring our dependence on God for knowledge of the good: “Scripture says, ‘The just man lives on the basis of faith’ [cf. Hab. 2:4; Rom. 1:17; Gal. 3:11; Heb. 10:38]. For we do not yet see our good, and hence we have to seek it by believing; and it is not in our power to live rightly, unless while we believe
and pray we receive help from him who has given us the faith to believe that we must be helped by him” (Civ. 19.4). For Augustine, redemption is a matter of faith because faith restores the Creator/ creature distinction wherein we acknowledge our dependence on God for knowledge of the good. Otherwise, humanity falls prey to idolatry and identifies goodness with carnal pleasures, false doctrines, and errant philosophies that characterize the “City of Man.”
For Augustine, Plato (and the Platonists), more than other philosophers, came closest to identifying the summum bonum with God. “Now this Sovereign Good, according to Plato, is God. And that is why he will have it that the true philosopher is the lover of God” (Civ. 8.8). Nevertheless, without the benefit of Scripture and faith in God, even the Platonists lacked knowledge of true goodness.
In modernity, the term ethics names the attempt to discern good from evil through access to universal and objective reason rather than through particularity and dogma. Modern ethics is the legacy of Immanuel Kant. Dietrich Bonhoef-fer argued against modern ethics, saying, “The knowledge of good and evil seems to be the aim of all ethical reflection. The first task of Christian ethics is to invalidate this knowledge” (quoted in Long 122). Bonhoeffer said this because the task of Christian ethics is not discerning good and evil through universal principles; rather, the goal of Christian ethics is to restore human desire to its original focus, which is God. In other words, the task of Christian ethics is not merely discerning right from wrong, but recovering a desire for the goodness that is God. Christians come to know goodness through the conversion of their desire back toward God. Doxology forms us in the way of goodness.
See also Deontological Theories of Ethics; Virtue(s) Bibliography
Long, D. S. The Goodness of God: Theology, Church, and the Social Order. Brazos, 2001.
Chanon R. Ross
A genealogy of the idea of “good works” within the Christian tradition begins with Christian readings of the OT and the practices of the Jewish community that were deeply embedded in many early Christian communities. This is given witness by the Gospels (e.g., Matthew) and several epistles (e.g., James, 1-2 Peter). This early influence on Christian understandings of the place of works is most clearly seen in the activities of the apostles in the book of Acts. In this text we find significant focus on caring for the weakest both in the church and in the wider community. We also find in the Pauline epistles the ever-present presumption that acts of charity are a presumed dimension of the Christian life (2 Cor. 8:1-15).
The idea of good works has had a contested, albeit significant, place at the center of the Christian theological and scriptural traditions since the beginnings of the church. The category has primarily found its place in Christian theological reflection on the role that good works play in the scheme of salvation. Scripture offers multiple assessments of the importance of human actions (works) as they bear on salvation. On the one hand, there is the assessment of the Pauline tradition in which faith is the most important element of human response to the gospel, to which works give witness (Rom. 3:19-26), while on the other hand we have what might be called the Jamesian tradition, which holds that works demonstrate faith (Jas. 2:14-18). These differing approaches to the question of the place of good works in the scheme of salvation have created what might be termed a moral field of vision for the Christian tradition in the West, particularly after the Reformation. Prior to the Reformation it was fairly well accepted that a substantial dimension of the Christian life was good works (e.g., acts of mercy) that demonstrated one’s cooperation with the workings of grace (cooperating grace) toward one’s salvation. During the Reformation this particular formulation of the relationship between works and salvation was severely critiqued by Martin Luther and others who insisted that it was solely by grace through faith that salvation was found.
Two key questions have been asked about good works: What role do they play in the drama of salvation? How is that role adjudicated? There was certainly a diversity of thought in the early church about this relationship, yet there emerged a central position that held that good works in some way cooperated with the grace of God such that they had salvific import both for the individual Christian and for the cohort of the faithful more generally (Thomas Aquinas, ST II-I, q. 111, a. 1). Cooperating grace then becomes the primary way to make sense of good works in the grand scheme of salvation. This concept of cooperating grace also maintains the creative tension within Scripture between faith and works and underlines the reticence of the formers of the biblical canon to elevate one category at the expense of the other.
Within this discussion, a contested point in Western Christianity was the issue of how the merit derived from the work of the saints would accrue to the benefit of the faithful and who would mediate its benefit. While it had long been believed that the lives of those who were exceptionally faithful provided a surplus of grace on which the church could draw, this understanding was enshrined in church doctrine by Pope Clement VI only in 1343. Although this doctrine was developed as an encouragement to the faithful to live lives of abounding grace and good works, it, like all practices, was open to misuse. One of the most glaring of these abuses was the practice of granting indulgences. These indulgences were given by the church. Drawing on the surplus of grace accrued by the faithful, the church could shorten another person’s time in purgatory. Perhaps the most significant abuse was when, through the work of persons such as John Tetzel, indulgences became a fund-raising tool for the church. While the practice itself became problematic and a source of substantial criticism, it was the underlying assumption that would spark schismatic controversy: the idea that the church was the primary dispenser of grace in the world. It is naive to suggest that the controversy around indulgences was the cause of the schism that came with the Reformation, but clearly it set the Protestant church(es) on a trajectory that would hold the salvific nature of works in substantial suspicion.
The best-known image of the Reformation is likely that of Martin Luther nailing his ninety-five theses to the door of the church in Wittenberg, all of which have to do with calling the church to task over its understanding of the workings of grace. At the center of Luther’s protest is the concern that tying salvific benefit to the surplus grace accrued by the saints undermines trust in the sufficiency and power of God’s grace for salvation. In place of this trust there is the fear that one’s works will never be good enough to merit salvation, and that the church’s interposition of itself does not resolve this matter. In fact, by contending that it holds within itself the treasury of grace, the church, in Luther’s estimation, takes the gaze of the faithful away from God and focuses it squarely on the church in a way that invites idolatry and creates a type of bondage. The Reformation traditions have as their centerpiece a reinterpretation of the workings of grace in the scheme of salvation. This reorientation necessarily meant a reinterpretation of the salvific character of good works.
There are multiple interpretations of the place of good works in the economy of salvation, four of which might be identified as the major trajectories of thought that have come to characterize the Christian tradition in the West after the Reformation. The first trajectory, which is most closely associated with Roman Catholic tradition, recognizes that while salvation is finally the work of God, the Christian still materially cooperates with the workings of grace as such by good works. This is the continuing tradition outlined above. The second trajectory, most often identified with the ecclesial movement begun by Martin Luther, holds that works are the evidence of gratitude for the gift of grace from God. In themselves, they have little if any salvific significance, save in forming a life of gratitude that is pleasing to God. The third major trajectory interprets good works as a sign of God’s electing grace that allows the continued perseverance of the saints in their good works in the face of the trials and temptations of life. This trajectory is most closely associated with the Reformed tradition. The fourth trajectory understands good works as being the way in which Christians pattern their lives after Christ and thereby give evidence of their faith and the working of the Spirit in their lives. This trajectory is most closely associated with the Anabaptist and Pietist traditions. It is important to note here that while the salvific significance of good works has stood as one of the points of contention between these trajectories of Western Christianity, there are significant ways that agreement can be found regarding the centrality of good works for the Christian life.
Perhaps the signature convictions that underlie both the magisterial and the radical elements of the Reformation are that faith alone justifies, and that grace alone is salvific. These commitments are summed up in the two phrases that have come to characterize the Reformation as a whole: sola gratia and sola fide. While the ranges of movements that emerge from the Reformation share these two points in common, there are differing points where each of these three trajectories (trajectories two, three, and four above) places its emphasis. To gain a fuller sense of the textures of these beliefs and their distinctiveness in the traditions of Western Christianity, some delineation is necessary.
In what may be termed the Lutheran trajectory, there is not a total denigration of good works, but certainly there exists a substantial suspicion of their place in the scheme of salvation. This suspicion is captured in the familiar phrase “works righteousness,” which usually refers disparagingly to an understanding that good works have salvific consequence in and of themselves. It would be wrong, however, to presume that the interpretation of works in this trajectory is wholly negative. It is rather the case that good works are interpreted as signs of gratitude from those who rightly consider the depths of God’s love shown in the sacrifice of Christ. The distinct textures of this interpretation are that this gratitude for God’s grace evident in
Christ’s sacrificial love is the central locus around which its piety and liturgical life are built.
The Reformed trajectory, like the Lutheran tradition, holds that good works are not in and of themselves salvific. They are, however, linked to salvation in a different way. The Reformed tradition’s focus on both the sovereignty of God and the electing nature of grace interprets the capacity to persevere in good works as a sign of the electing grace of God working in the lives of the faithful. Good works in this scheme are probable evidence of election to salvation and therefore are linked closely with it. So, instead of good works preceding, cooperating, or simply responding to God’s grace, their perduring presence in the life of the faithful follows the salvifically electing work of grace. This is a significant reason that the trajectories of the faith that emerge from this stream of the Reformation seemingly focus an inordinate amount of attention on the conduct of the faithful.
The final trajectory is that which emerges from what historians describe as the Radical Reformation. This tradition interprets good works in their relation to the conduct of the everyday life of the faithful. In the scheme of salvation in this trajectory the focus is on sanctification as a means to participate with grace in its salvific work. This is often spoken of in plain terms as walking in the way of Jesus. Doctrinal pronouncements recede in the scheme of things. Unlike the other two trajectories, the matter is more one of how the faithful conduct their lives in view of the examples and teachings of Jesus found in Scripture. Clearly, in the broad field of vision outlined in the preceding trajectories, the focus here is on visible holiness as a sign of the progressive work of sanctification in the lives of the faithful. Faithfulness is not a matter of propositional correctness or dogmatic purity—frequent features of the preceding trajec-tories—but rather the capacity to both witness to and reflect Jesus in the everyday materiality of one’s life.
The preceding discussion has sought to distinguish the ways that good works might be conceived in the dominant streams of the Western Christian tradition. In observing these differences it is important to note, however, that while we have been focusing on the particular emphases that traditions place on good works, we cannot presume that any particular tradition represents a pristine example of any given trajectory. It is rather the case that discrete traditions represent the normalization of a particular emphasis, but within it will be found echoes of the other trajectories. For instance, while it is clearly the case that the emphasis of the
Lutheran tradition is on a dogmatic point—salvation is sola fide—it is also the case that there was and is a strong thread of pietism that runs through many Lutheran communities. Similarly, although the Wesleyan traditions contain a significant focus on the idea of Christian perfection—visible holiness, as evidenced by the way one’s life reflects the love of God made known in Jesus Christ into the world—there generally remains a commitment to dogmatic formulations. Likewise, in the traditions that might be closely associated with the Reformed trajectory there still remains a strong commitment to the cultivation of Christian character—visible holiness—even though God’s sovereignty and grace are the only truly effective forces in the scheme of salvation. These examples demonstrate that in the broad stream of the Christian tradition in the West we find a plurality of understandings of the relationship between good works and salvation. Far from calling into question the value of good works in God’s scheme of salvation, the trajectories reviewed above ask not whether good works are essential, but rather how they are essential to the Christian life.
See also Anabaptist Ethics; Charity, Works of; James; Lutheran Ethics; Reformed Ethics; Roman Catholic Moral Theology; Wesleyan Ethics
Bibliography
Oden, T. The Good Works Reader. Eerdmans, 2007; Sider, R. Good News and Good Works: A Theology for the Whole Gospel. Baker, 1999.
Stephen G. Ray Jr.