Infanticide refers to intentional practices that cause the death of newborn infants or, secondarily, older children.
Scripture and the Christian tradition are unequivocal: infanticide is categorically condemned. Both Judaism and Christianity distinguished themselves in part via their opposition to widespread practices of infanticide in their cultural contexts. Are Christian communities today likewise distinguished, or, like many of their Israelite forebears, do they profess faith in God while worshiping Molech?
Infanticide in Scripture
Infanticide stands as an almost universal practice across history and culture (Williamson). Primary justifications often cite economic scarcity or population control needs, although occasionally infanticide flourished in prosperous cultural contexts (Levenson).
Infanticide or, more precisely, child sacrifice forms the background of much of the OT. Jon Levenson argues that the transformation of child sacrifice, captured in the repeated stories of the death and resurrection of the beloved and/or firstborn son, is at the heart of the Judeo-Christian tradition.
The Israelites found themselves among peoples who practiced child sacrifice, particularly sacrifice of the firstborn son. In Deut. 12:31 it is said of the inhabitants of Canaan that “they even burn their sons and their daughters in the fire to their gods” (cf. 2 Kgs. 3:27). As early as Gen. 22, Abraham finds himself commanded to sacrifice Isaac. To Abraham’s ears, God’s command is perfectly logical, since the gods of the Canaanite peoples require this. But to sacrifice his only son, born to him in his old age, unlikely to be replaced, rendering God’s promise impossible to fulfill? Here, at the very beginning of Scripture, God begins to transform the notion of deity, showing the character of the true and living God; Yahweh is a God of life, not death.
Alongside child sacrifice, the OT presents a second form of infanticide. Immediately after Genesis, Exodus opens with Pharaoh’s attempt to limit the Israelite population by killing every male child (Exod. 1-2). The contest between Yahweh and Pharaoh ends only when Yahweh slays all firstborn creatures in Egypt not protected by the blood of the lamb (Exod. 11:4-12:39). At the end of this story, Yahweh commands the Israelites, “Consecrate to me all the firstborn; whatever is the first to open the womb among the Israelites, of human beings and animals, is mine” (Exod. 13:2). The firstborn remain Yahweh’s, but they live. When Yahweh gives Israel the covenant, child sacrifice is named an abomination and specifically prohibited (Lev. 18:21; Deut. 18:10; cf. 2 Kgs. 17:31; 23:4, 10).
Yet child sacrifice continues. Many Israelites, particularly their kings, wanted it both ways, to worship Yahweh but also to worship the gods of the neighboring peoples. Ahaz “even burned his son as an offering” (2 Kgs. 16:3), as did Manasseh (2 Kgs. 21:6) and the people of Israel in conjunction with their worship of Baal and Molech (Lev. 18:21; 2 Kgs. 17:17; Jer. 7:30-31; 19:5; 32:35; Ezek. 16:20-21, 36). Infanticide, in other words, was deeply enmeshed with idolatry, particularly the worship of Molech, a chthonic deity, a god of the dead or of death. By practicing child sacrifice, the Israelites entered into a “covenant of death” (Muers).
The NT opens with echoes of Exodus. In a twisted parody of pharaoic self-aggrandizement, Herod orders all male children younger than two years of age in and around Bethlehem to be killed (Matt. 2:16-20). Again, at the center of the story is idolatry: the magi come to properly worship the newborn child; Herod, a Jew, not only refuses to worship God’s anointed, the one who proves to be God’s only and firstborn beloved son, but also, when his ruse of wanting to worship the child fails, seeks to kill him.
Infanticide in the Christian Tradition
The early church (in continuity with its Jewish
identity) continued adamantly to oppose the
Greco-Roman practice of infanticide. The ancient Greeks and Romans rejected child sacrifice as barbarous, yet they widely practiced infanticide via strangulation or exposure of newborns, particularly of girls or children with deformities. Here infanticide was practiced primarily for economic reasons, at the whim of the paterfamilias. Christian witness against infanticide (and abortion) spans the patristic context (e.g., Did. 5.2; Epistle of Barnabas 19:5; also the authors Tertullian, Athenagoras, Minucius Felix, Justin Martyr, Lac-tantius, Ambrose). Infanticide became a capital offense after the Roman Empire’s conversion to Christianity (Valentinian I [374 CE]), although offenders rarely were prosecuted.
Infanticide Today
Despite the constant teaching of Christianity, infanticide continued as a social practice in the Christian West (Milner). It remains an issue today, not only in China and India, where ultrasound technology has augmented traditional practices of female infanticide, or in contexts of impoverished countries. Direct killing of infants or children by parents is deemed almost the epitome of sociopathology, yet an increasing number of socially accepted practices entail or permit the death of children: embryo research, embryonic stem-cell research, preimplantation genetic diagnosis, abortion, withholding treatment from “defective” neonates, and euthanasia of disabled children.
Analysis of these issues exceeds the parameters of this article. Many would reject the analogy between these practices and infanticide, since most involve the killing of humans not yet born, those categorized as “nonpersons.” Yet arguments favoring these practices mirror those made in the Roman context: economic burden, parental autonomy, reduction of suffering. Proponents would more vehemently reject parallels to child sacrifice. But in light of the rhetoric of fear that is often used to justify these practices, as well as the salvific and utopian claims made on their behalf, Christians and their communities must ask questions. How are these practices contemporary forms of idolatry? In what ways do these practices enmesh participants in a “covenant with death”? Might it be that we, who live in the most prosperous culture ever, profess faith with our lips while sacrificing our children on the altars of Molech?
See also Abortion; Bioethics; Children; Euthanasia; Idolatry; Population Policy and Control; Sanctity of Human Life
Bibliography
Levenson, J. The Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son: The Transformation of Child Sacrifice in Judaism and Christianity. Yale University Press, 1993; Milner, L. Hardness of Heart/Hardness of Life: The Stain of Human Infanticide. University Press of America, 2000; Muers, R. “Idolatry and the Future Generations: The Persistence of Moloch.” ModTh 19 (2003): 547-61; Williamson, L. “Infanticide: An Anthropological Analysis.” Pages 61-75 in Infanticide and the Value of Life, ed. M. Kohl. Prometheus Books, 1978.
M. Therese Lysaught
Infertility refers to the biological inability to conceive and bear children. Stories of “barrenness” (the term used in some translations of the Bible) figure prominently in Scripture. This biblical witness challenges some contemporary assumptions about infertility and childbearing, especially when these stories are read theologically.
Barrenness in Scripture
The Bible contains stories of eight (initially) barren women: Sarah (Gen. 15-23), Rebekah (Gen. 24-25), Rachel (Gen. 29-35), Manoah’s wife (Judg. 13), Hannah (1 Sam. 1-2), Michal (2 Sam. 6), a Shunammite woman (2 Kgs. 4), and Elizabeth (Luke 1). Then, as now, most of these women grieved their infertility. Shame and a sense of failure are compounded by their context: barrenness of land and womb was considered a sign of God’s judgment, a curse for lack of righteousness or covenantal fidelity (Job 3:7; 15:34); fecundity was a sign of God’s favor and blessing, a reward for righteousness (Exod. 23:36; Lev. 26:3-9; Deut. 7:12-14; Isa. 54:1). Moreover, Israel understood itself as being called to procreate, to fulfill God’s
original commandment, repeated in the context of the covenant to make Abraham’s descendants as numerous as the stars, to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1:28; 35:11). Failure to conceive had personal and corporate implications.
Almost all these women are righteous, even exemplary; thus, their barrenness confounds. Like contemporary women, some of these biblical women try to engineer offspring (via concubines, maidservants, and mandrakes), but the long-term outcomes of these efforts are generally problematic.
Eventually all but Michal give birth to sons: Isaac, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and Benjamin, Samson, Samuel, and John the Baptist. Each of these stories is a key moment in salvation history. Adding the stories of Miriam, Mary, and others, one might say that, with rare exception, when God wants to do something in salvation history, someone gets pregnant. Someone gets pregnant when God wishes to establish the people of Israel, deliver Israel from the Philistines or Egyptians, transition Israel from judges to kings, herald the coming of the Messiah, or become incarnate. These stories attest that God works redemption through creation, through women (their bodies, agency, and work). Echoing the cross, these stories proclaim that God begins among the least and marginalized, confounding human wisdom by working redemption through something considered accursed.
Children in Christian Tradition Elizabeth is the last barren woman mentioned in Scripture. With Jesus comes the fullness of redemption, and stories of miraculous birth disappear from the biblical narrative. Unlike the Jewish tradition, very early in its history Christianity adopts childlessness through vowed virginity as an ideal for both men and women. Apocalyptic notes in the Gospels caution women against bearing children because of the coming tribulation (Mark 13:17-19 pars.; Luke 23:28, 30-31) and appear even to bless the barren (Luke 23:29; cf. Wis. 3:13-14; Isa. 56:3-5; Jer. 16:1-4). Biological ties are relativized, as the church becomes one’s new family. As Paul makes clear, for Christianity, redemption no longer comes through procreation but rather through adoption (Rom. 8:15, 23; Gal. 4:5; Eph. 1:5) (see Wilson).
Although childlessness became a new ideal, marriage remained the norm for most Christians. Children became understood as the primary purpose for marriage, and reproduction an obligation of those in the married state. Consequently, throughout Christian history barrenness has remained a stigma, a source of shame and grief.
Contemporary Application These biblical stories of women righteous yet barren should dispel the misunderstanding of infertility as a punishment or curse. Should infertile Christians use reproductive technologies—fertility drugs, surrogacy, in-vitro fertilization? Although Scripture gives no commandment for or against such measures, the stories of barrenness do caution against trying to engineer children. The children who eventually come are, completely, gifts. Even then, many of the mothers (Sarah, Manoah’s wife, Hannah, Elizabeth) return their children to God, for God’s service. Christian reflection on reproductive technologies (and procreation) must consider this.
Such reflection must also take seriously the new paradigm of redemption: adoption. Since God now makes us his children via adoption, we may say that Christians are called to take adoption as a new paradigm for discipleship. Christian communities, above all, are called to live this new paradigm, to become exemplars of adoption. Even today, churches tend to exacerbate the pain of infertility by being excessively family- and child-oriented. Pastors should consider carefully how preaching and practices that privilege biological procreation impact infertile women and couples, and they should begin to restructure their congregations into places that embody the example of the God who adopts us all into the kingdom.
See also Adoption; Childlessness; Children; Procreation; Reproductive Technologies
Bibliography
Dresner, S. “Barren Rachel.” Judaism 40 (1991): 442—51; Havrelock, R. “The Myth of Birthing the Hero: Heroic Barrenness in the Hebrew Bible.” BibInt 16 (2008): 154—78; Ryan, M. “Faith and Infertility.” Pages 150—70 in Ethics and Economics of Assisted Reproduction: The Cost of Longing. Georgetown University Press, 2001; Stimming, M. “Endless Advent.” ChrCent 117, no. 34 (Dec. 6, 2000): 1273—75; Volf, M. “The Gift of Infertility.” ChrCent 122, no. 22 (June 14, 2005): 33—36; Wilson, S. “Blessed Are the Barren: The Kingdom of God Springs Forth from the Empty Womb.” ChrTo 51, no. 12 (Dec. 1, 2007): 22-28.
M. Therese Lysaught
Information technology comprises the various devices and systems for storing and manipulating digital data: computers, the internet, the world wide web, digital audio and video recording, and so on. As such, it involves technologies of storage and communication that are not unprecedented (from clay tablets to papyrus letters to books) but do have capacities and intensities that set them apart from their antecedents.
The prevalence of information technology in many contemporary cultures (and its increasing prominence around the globe) engages ethical questions in a variety of dimensions. Information technology raises familiar ethical topics in an unfamiliar context, new ethical questions intrinsic to the capacities of digital culture, and ethical questions relative to the costs of digital technology.
Familiar Problems
The ethical status of information technology touches on many familiar ethical problems in a radically different context: sexual desire and its appropriate bounds, control of words, and violence, to name but three. These topics, already subject to controversy in the physical world, take on different contours in digital interactions. The simulated sexual actions of a digital extension of someone’s persona (an “avatar” or “toon”) would constitute transgressions of biblical injunctions against chastity if committed in a physical environment, but since digital interaction involves no physical contact, no opportunity for procreation, and a significantly different pattern of “knowing” one’s partner, the biblical rationale for prohibiting such relations requires new nuances. The global reach and the relative permanence of words transmitted online heighten the dangers associated with control of the tongue (or in this case, “control of the keyboard”). And although biblical restrictions on the use of violence have vivid application in
physical environments, they lose much clarity in a digital world in which no physical damage is incurred, no life is lost. And although God’s people apparently have always kept records (sometimes contrary to God’s express command [see 2 Sam. 24]), the extensive databases of contemporary information technology combine an uncomfortably intrusive degree of personal detail and the risk that these databases may fall into malicious hands or inadvertently be made public. All these scenarios mimic situations in the physical world for which the traditions of Christian ethics have developed strong mandates, but they alter the function of the particular terms in which those mandates have been framed. It would seem extraordinarily odd to most Christians if one were to forbid believers to play chess against one another, but chess represents a highly stylized form of mortal conflict not different in many respects from a game that sets armed toons against one another in arena combat. Thus, ethical evaluation of digital interactions should attend to the specific distinctions between physical and digital environments; digital actions are not simply the same as the physical actions they represent.
Intrinsic Problems
Information technology poses a variety of ethical challenges for which Scripture provides no obvious precedents. For instance, the various opportunities for anonymity and self-representation challenge models of identity that depend on physicality and location. An infamous cartoon claims, “On the Internet, no one can tell you’re a dog,” but myriad possibilities for self-representation and concealment raise questions concerning the obligation to identify oneself truly online and whether that “true” identity is determined by the accidents of physical appearance or by other criteria. By the same token, digital technologies afford the possibility of withholding the agent’s identity; users may sense themselves to have escaped the constraint of having their behaviors associated with their identities (although true online anonymity is more difficult to attain than casual users are apt to assume). A biblical ethic would acknowledge that God, the creator of heaven and earth, cannot be misled by online anonymity, but also that anonymity obscures temporal moral deliberation for both the agent and all other interested parties.
The complications concerning identity online affect deliberations about the reality of digital presence. Some of the earliest judgments concerning information technology stress the alleged danger of supposing that online interactions provide a legitimate substitute for physical interactions. The hasty fear that digital environments may supplant cherished aspects of physical interaction— “replacement panic”—skips past the distinctions between digital and physical presence, to the impoverishment of both modes (neither of which constitutes a functional replacement for the other, each of which offers opportunities alien to the other). On the one hand, the question “Are you Internet friends or real friends?” reveals an anxiety about presence that would have undermined, for example, the apostle Paul’s letters as vehicles of his pastoral guidance, or even God’s word spoken through the prophets.
On the other hand, the interconnected environment of digital technologies brings a heightened sense of principles that resonate with biblical ethics. For instance, the experience of temporal transience can tempt people to imagine that their impulsive transgressions disappear into an undetectable nothingness comparable to the presumably anonymous actions of digital avatars, whereas Scripture affirms that nothing escapes God’s attention and judgment. Likewise, the online proximity of persons from every people, language, tribe, and nation provides a more vivid example of variegated communities than do most physical environments. The “intermingled” online environment provides both an anticipation of the integrated community of the kingdom of God and a vehicle by which one may advance that cause.
Opportunity Costs
A further ethical consideration for information technology involves the hidden costs of vesting an increasing proportion of cultural resources in this exceptionally complex system. A simple webpage may seem quite inexpensive, but it depends for its existence and usefulness on a robust supply of electrical energy, on an energy-intensive server farm to host the page, on intricate networks of digital communication to direct packet traffic to and from the site, and on the rapidly obsolescent computers that design and read the page. Although the Web and other digital technologies certainly contribute to a degree of heightened well-being around the world, all the resources that sustain this single webpage might otherwise be put to uses that offer more immediate benefits to needy people. The choice to adopt and maintain information technologies entails a concomitant choice not to direct the requisite resources to other purposes. More precarious still, the cultural prominence of information technology tends to occlude these costs (either by directing attention away from them or by making them seem “necessary”).
Conclusion
A scriptural ethic of information technology needs to balance the various implications of this new environment. Since these capacities are relatively novel, attempts to arrive at a stable balance probably will teeter to unsatisfactory extremes for a numbers of years. A duly humble observer will remember that we have no command of the Lord on these matters. At the same time, these new challenges follow millennia of deliberation on prior technologies for processing information. A parchment codex might have cost more in the fourth century than a simple laptop computer does today, and medieval chroniclers have transmitted the tax records and genealogical data of many people who did not approve or give their permission. By reasoning carefully from clearer, more familiar circumstances, however, Christians will find guidance for theologically commendable uses of digital technology.
See also Dirty Hands; Friendship, Friendship Ethics; Integrity; Pornography; Violence
Bibliography
Adam, A. “Technology and Religion.” In An Introduction to Religious Studies, ed. Paul Myhre. St. Mary’s Press, 2009; Borgman, A. Power Failure: Christianity in the Culture of Technology. Brazos, 2003; idem. “This Is Not a Bible: Dispelling the Mystique of Words for the Future of Biblical Interpretation.” Pages 3-20 in New Paradigms for Bible Study: The Bible in the Third Millennium, ed. R. Fowler et al. T&T Clark, 2004; Weinberger, D. Small Pieces, Loosely Joined: A Unified Theory of the Web. Basic Books, 2002.
A. K. M. Adam
Scripture does not use the word institutions. Nevertheless, there are social realities that organize and order community life and practices and that reflect our modern understanding of institutional structures of social order and cooperation.
There were and are institutions and institutional practices related to marriage and the family, education, government, economic exchange, and healthcare. These institutions are formed by human communities, often through various authorities, to facilitate human social functioning and to meet both general and specific human needs. Institutions operate through structures, develop a culture of their own, make and enforce rules governing cooperative human behavior, and may take on a life of their own. They enforce their rules in ways that range from fines and incarceration to gossip, social exclusion, and ostracism. Their impact may be for good or evil.
Scripture expresses concern for how the nature, operation, and impact of social structures affect the people within and outside such institutions. Today we have formal institutions such as churches, schools, governments, businesses, and healthcare organizations as well as informal institutions such as marriage and the family. These express social purposes, have some kind of permanence, and make and enforce rules governing cooperative human behavior.
Marriage is one example of an institution warranted by Scripture. God instituted marriage and the family for human good (Gen. 2:18-25), but human sin deeply affected it (Gen. 3). We are fallen people living in a fallen world. Our institutions too are marked by sin and the fall. Marriage is, however, not the only institution found in Scripture or the only one founded in God’s will but distorted by human sin. The OT indicates that three forms of human structural relationships were grounded in God’s will: the prophet, the priest, and the king were God-appointed (1 Sam. 10:1; Isa. 6:1-13). They gathered institutional power and social organization around their offices.
Even before the development of these particular roles, however, the patriarchs had gathered communities of God’s people together and organized and led them. Egyptian pharaohs had institutional power and exercised that power for both good and evil. Joseph and Moses had interacted with that institutional power, served in its context, and finally challenged its oppressive power (Gen. 39-50; Exod. 2; 5-12). Theocracy—the rule of God—was mediated through leaders such as Moses and Joshua bringing the people of God to the promised land and settling there. When the settlement was threatened by both anarchy within and the Philistines without, the people called for the institution of kingship. It was an ambiguous request, marked on the one hand as a rejection of God’s rule and by the desire to be like other nations, and on the other hand by God’s provision against the Philistine threat (1 Sam. 8-12). And monarchy would be an ambiguous institution in Israel. God allowed and selected the first kings but warned of how such institutions would and did oppress the people (1 Sam. 8:11-18).
Religious institutions, like the political institutions, also had early beginnings. And like the political institutions, they were marked by ambiguity. God created religious institutions associated with the tabernacle and temple as structures for worship, sacrifice, and meeting with God (Exod. 35-47; 1 Kgs. 6-7). God chose the priests, but even religious power led to abuse (1 Sam. 2:12-17).
The prophets sometimes challenged kings, authorities, priests, and merchants with the word of God, reminding them to exercise justice and mercy and rule according to God’s will (1 Kgs. 12; 18), but there were false prophets who served the political interests of the king or were paid for saying what someone wanted to hear.
The moral failures of Judah’s political, religious, and economic institutions contributed to its defeat and exile. The prophets regarded it as the judgment of God. The exile led to new ways of relating to foreign institutional power. Nehemiah, Esther, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego worked to fulfill God’s will and the good of his people within institutional structures of other nations (Neh. 2; Esther; Dan. 1). They both exercised power and related to authorities for good. Nevertheless, there was also an acknowledgment of the oppressive power of these institutional structures and the brutality of empire.
Jesus met resistance from institutional power throughout his life. From Herod’s murderous response to the announcement of his birth to his trial and crucifixion by a Roman procurator, political institutions resisted his work and ministry. From early struggles with priests and with the scribes and Pharisees who had institutionalized power and misused their authority (Mark 11:30; Luke 11:39) to the call for his death, religious institutions too resisted his work. The question of power (exousia) was at the heart of the struggle (Matt. 27:62; Mark 15; John 11:47-53).
The founding of the church brought new forms of institutional relationships. The appointment of Matthias as a replacement for Judas Iscariot (Acts 1:15-26) and of deacons to oversee the daily distribution of food among the disciples (Acts 6:1-6) shows how institutional structures began to emerge in the early church. The council of Jerusalem (Acts 15) dealt with what institutional requirements of food and sexual behavior were expected from gentile converts and the extension of early church mission.
Acts describes how the early church leaders dealt with authority and institutional powers in various ways. For example, Peter, in his response to the Jewish council, insisted on obedience to God rather than to human demands (Acts 4:19-20), while Paul, in his appearances before various authorities culminating in his appeal as a Roman citizen for trial before Caesar (Acts 25:11-12), had no qualms about using institutional rights. Paul also, of course, suffered at the hands of authorities (Acts 16:16-40; 18:12-17). Institutions remained ambiguous.
Without denying that ambiguity, Paul and Peter both insisted that Christians should pray for and support human authorities as God-appointed to restrain evil and reinforce good (Rom. 13:1-7; 1 Pet. 2:13-17). There is a struggle between good and evil in this world (Eph. 6:12), and institutions are implicated in that struggle, sometimes on the side of some good to be done or preserved and sometimes on the side of horrific oppression. Institutions are ultimately responsible and answerable to God for their uses of power, for what they do and how they function. In the book of Revelation the brutality of imperial institutions is on display, and resistance is called for in the struggle between God’s reign and Satan (Rev. 8-18).
Historically, Christianity has struggled both with its own institutional forms (e.g., denomi-nationalism) and with the power of secular institutions to shape human life. Debate about the exact forms and applications of the church and a stress on the qualities required of leaders is hardly new (1 Tim. 3:2; Titus 1:5, 7). Religiously based and secularly grounded institutions are both responsible to God for how they operate and for the effects they have on human society and individuals. Institutions are necessary, but because we operate in a fallen, sinful world and are fallen human beings, these institutions are marked by moral ambiguity. Intended for good, they will tend to oppress those whom they should serve and to claim ultimate power and authority for themselves rather than God.
Modern moral reflection weighs the nature and function of institutions and the good and evil impact that they have on human well-being. Truth and openness should be the marks and mode of human operations and communities. Institutions inevitably are sinful; some talk of structural sin affecting those who work for and are affected by them. With increasing concern about the social, economic, and environmental impact of institutions, moralists have introduced the notion of “stakeholders.” Ecological concerns and economic and political abuse should require that all stakeholders have some say in the community’s discernment concerning how institutions operate. They should not simply be controlled by government or left to their own devices or serve only the interests of shareholders and owners. Theologians have stressed the importance of good stewardship in human affairs, in religious, financial, and political organizations. If God is the Creator, then how we use properly what God has given, what ends we seek to achieve and what means we use matters.
Institutions are created by humans in order to facilitate living together. They are expressions of the needs, structure, and values of communities. They organize formally and informally how people live their lives and the common life. And they are ambiguous. Christian communities throughout Scripture attended centrally to God and to God’s will for humans when they have dealt with institutions. The church often has played a prophetic role in relation to institutions. In some contexts it has become an established part of national life and fulfills a role within government (e.g., the Lords Spiritual in the House of Lords of the British Parliament, the chaplains of the US Congress, and the role of prayer in Parliament and Congress; broadcasting where religious broadcasting has a privileged role as a requirement; and national events such as coronations, inaugurations, national funerals, and public responses to national tragedies such as 9/11). The danger is that the church becomes indistinguishable from secular authorities and is not free to order itself and follow its God-given tasks or to act as a prophetic voice to society and its institutions. Nonestablished churches may play a role in faith-based initiatives serving the common good. Institutions are ultimately permitted by God for human good and ought to fulfill God’s will and purposes.
See also Authority and Power; Business Ethics; Ecological Ethics; Economic Ethics; Government; Political Ethics; Powers and Principalities
Bibliography
Lash, N. Voices of Authority. Wipf & Stock, 2005; Scott, W. Institutions and Organizations: Ideas and Interests. 3rd ed. Sage Publications, 2008.
E. David Cook
The word integrity is derived from the Latin in-tegritas, meaning “wholeness and completeness, being indivisible and inviolable.” It is one of the most important moral qualities of a person’s character, particularly in a leader. Persons of integrity do not compromise their own virtue whatever the coercion. Often, breaches of integrity are achieved through some kind of compartmentalization, and in the case of religion by reducing one’s faith to certain religious activities, ignoring the fact that faith should encompass all areas of life.
Integrity in Relation to God In the OT, the concept of integrity is for the most part expressed by the word group tmm (concept of perfection). This word group denotes characteristics of unity, wholeness, completeness, blamelessness, purity, sincerity, honesty, and consistency, which reflect authenticity and trustworthiness. Noah is the first person whose moral character is described as both “righteous” (saddiq) and “blameless” (tamim). Job is similarly described, meaning that he is blameless, innocent, and pious (Job 1:1, 8; 2:3, 9). He refused to accept his friends’ accusations because he knew that they were false. His heart or conscience is his witness (Job 27:4-6). He insisted that he had never been deceitful, and God is the one who knows his “integrity” (tumma) (Job 31:5-6). Eventually, Job’s integrity was vindicated (cf. Jas. 5:11).
Another notable example in the OT is the prophet Jeremiah. Jeremiah had made himself the most unwelcome man in Jerusalem by predicting a Babylonian victory. Although he would rather believe that Judah would defeat its enemy, he could not speak otherwise because “there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones” (Jer. 20:9). He was unlike those false prophets who sought to give the people what they wanted to hear. Another OT prophet, Daniel, is also a man of unimpeachable integrity. Daniel (and his friends) refused to compromise his devotion to the only true God, even to the point of death (Dan. 3:8-30; 6:1-28).
Integrity is not just commitment to achieve one’s intention; if it were, the perpetrators of genocide, for example, who are committed to what they are doing, would be persons of integrity. The nature of one’s commitments is central to one’s integrity. According to the biblical tradition, integrity is a wholehearted commitment to love God and to do his will as expressed in his commandments. Such is also the calling of all Israel (Deut. 18:13). Joshua charged Israel to serve God in “sincerity” (tamim) and “faithfulness” (’emet) (Josh. 24:14). Hence, to have integrity is to walk in the way of perfection (e.g., Pss. 15:2; 119:1; Prov. 11:20), to be entirely faithful to God. Human integrity has its ground in one’s loving relationship with God (Deut. 6:4-5), living in his presence, accountable to him. Such a person will act in all areas of life in accordance with this deepest commitment and core motive. Paul, when attacked by his opponents, defended his integrity by appealing to his fear of the Lord as the motive behind all his actions (2 Cor. 5:11).
Integrity in Relation to Neighbors
The wholehearted commitment to love God entails love for all people. Persons of integrity are loyal to their promises and genuinely honest in their dealings with others. They are consistent not only in fulfilling their role entrusted to them by the society but also between their values and conduct. They are whole and trustworthy.
Grounded in the teaching of Jesus, the Epistle of James expounds on the importance of growth in wholeness or perfection in an individual as well as in a community. Hearing God’s word without making a corresponding response in action (Jas. 1:22) and claiming to have faith while being without works (of mercy) (Jas. 2:14-25) are symptoms of duplicity, the very opposite of integrity. It is the same as claiming to have love for God while having no love for brothers and sisters (1 John 4:19-20). James calls such people “double-minded” (dipsychos) (Jas. 1:8; 4:8), wavering in all decisions in life (Jas. 1:8). James, representing Jesus’ teaching in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5:33-37), warns against duplicity of speech: “Let your ‘Yes’ be yes and your ‘No’ be no” (Jas. 5:12), not saying one thing yet meaning another. To do otherwise inevitably involves deception of some kind.
Self-deception is not only a symptom of duplicity; it also often makes duplicity possible. Not all “self-deception” is bad or sinful. It becomes a problem when such self-deception originates with evil inclination and becomes part of people’s overall belief structure. It is the very character of lies to cover them up with more lies. Self-deception can pollute judgment in all areas of life, corrupting their entire structure of meaning. It will then continue to shape people’s motivation for behavior and becomes a component in their habitual patterns of thought and feeling. A form of selfdeception can be seen in Jas. 1:23-24, which speaks of people who look at themselves in a mirror and, after going away, immediately forget what they were like. James 1:26 speaks of the same kind of self-deception: those who think that they are religious but lack the kind of expression approved by God. By their false assumption they “deceive their hearts.” Such deception is also found in one’s pretense to be a friend of God in praying to him, yet in reality being a friend of the world and thus an enemy of God (Jas. 4:4). Such dividedness or “splitting” not only finds its consequence in the individual self, in one’s relationship with God, but also is evident in the “splitting” within the Christian community, with members not trusting but instead fighting against one another (Jas. 2:1-16; 4:1-3, 11; 5:9). James also warns against hypocritical judging (Jas. 4:11-12), as did Jesus (Matt. 7:1-5), which eventually destroys trust and splits a community.
People can also collude with one another through self-deception to reinforce gross social and institutional injustice through socialization. Such failure to act persistently on one’s core com-mitments—that is, to endure in faith (Jas. 1:3-4; 5:7-11)—often is a result of lack of wisdom, weakness of will, self-deception, and cowardice, which issue in disintegration, hypocrisy, dishonesty, unreliability, indifference, and impiety. This lack of integrity is caused by people’s inability to resolve the conflicts of their own desires.
The Way to Integrity
God is the only one who is fully self-integrated, whose intentions and actions perfectly correspond. God can vow by his own name, showing his promises to humans to be doubly certain (Heb. 6:13-18). Jesus proves himself to be self-integrated as he overcomes temptations in compliance to the will of the Father, with which he fully identified. He acts in a way fully reflecting his sense of who he is, the Father’s obedient Son in the power of the Spirit. God not only is perfect but also demands that his people be perfect (Matt. 5:48; cf. Lev. 19:2). God’s grace and love are the indispensable integrative power that fulfills and completes a love in human beings (1 John 2:5). God is the one who guarantees that integrity is possible, and that it will finally be fulfilled in the eschaton (Jas. 1:4, 12). Jesus, as the perfecter of faith, will lead believers in this way of perfection and integrity through faith (Heb. 12:2).
The way to integrity involves people being willing to confront themselves, accepting rather than evading their responsibilities. Change is possible when people acknowledge that some past behaviors are wrong or unacceptable. Self-examination may involve repentance, as one stands before God in total transparency, admitting one’s sinfulness and duplicity (Jas. 4:7-10). The importance of such self-examination is found also in Paul’s teachings on having a clear conscience (2 Cor. 1:12; 1 Tim. 1:5, 19; 3:9).
Self-examination is not just reflecting on ourselves by ourselves; it involves reflecting persistently and openly on ourselves in the light of
Scripture, as the metaphor of the mirror in Jas. 1:22-25 illustrates. Such self-examination should not merely be done individually. The messianic community should also be a community of discernment (Jas. 5:13-17). Believers are to listen to God and his word in humility, listen to themselves and to one another, and act in accordance with the knowledge coming from such listening (Jas. 1:19). The community that accepts this challenge to pursue such commitment will enter into the deep process of integrity to which it is invited.
See also Character; Deception; Dishonesty; Fidelity; Perfection
Bibliography
Bauckham, R. James: Wisdom of James, Disciple of Jesus the Sage. NTR. Routledge, 1999; Musschenga, A. “Education for Moral Integrity.” JPE 35 (2001): 219-35; Schweiker, W. “Consistency and Christian Ethics.” ATR 90 (2008): 567-74.
Luke Leuk Cheung Intelligence, Artificial See Artificial Intelligence
Intention names the end, purpose, or goal toward which an agent works in any voluntary action. Since the Scholastic period, intention has been considered, along with the object of an act and its circumstances, to be one of the “fonts of moral-ity”—the three key aspects that constitute a moral act and that should be considered in order to offer an adequate evaluation of a moral act. The intention of the agent must be considered in evaluating the morality of an act, although it must never be considered in isolation from the act itself.
Attending to Scripture
Although Scripture gives little explicit attention to intention, it shows a concern with the interior dispositions of agents in ways that the tradition would come to associate with intention. Throughout Scripture, God not only judges actions but also “tests hearts and minds” (Ps. 7:10).
Several precepts of the Mosaic law explicitly distinguish between wrongful acts that happen accidentally and those done intentionally (Exod. 21:12-14; Num. 15:23-24). With increased purposefulness in a wrongful act comes increased punishment; lack of intentionality likewise decreases punishment. In such passages, the act is primary, but the intentionality (or lack thereof) can increase or mitigate the evil and the agent’s accountability for it. Legal, prophetic, and wisdom texts in the Bible repeatedly express concern about the interior dispositions of persons. In particular, the law prohibits the coveting of both wives and property (Deut. 5:21), the prophets call the people to genuine conversion of the heart (Ezek. 11:19) rather than the outward show of sacrifice or worship (Isa. 1:13-15) or minimalist compliance with the law (Amos 8:5-6), and the psalms echo God’s desire for pure and humble hearts and spirits (Ps. 51:18-19). This concern with the interior dispositions of the agent is intensified throughout the NT, especially in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matt. 5-7. Jesus forbids not only murder but also anger (5:22), not only adultery but also lust (5:28). Though the acts are still forbidden, evil is located not in the act alone but also in the agent. Moreover, Paul, in Rom. 3:8, expressly condemns those who suggest doing evil so that good might come. This verse often has been held up in the tradition as a rejection of the idea that the intention of a good end might justify an act that is evil in itself. These and other biblical texts set the stage for development around the question of how the intention of the agent, the object of the act, and other circumstances contribute to the identity and moral evaluation of any act.
The Tradition
Augustine’s “On Lying” explicitly makes the role of intention a central area of concern in establishing the morality of an act. Augustine defines lying as speaking a falsehood with the intention to deceive. He carefully establishes both of these components of the act: the exterior act of speaking falsehood, and the interior disposition of the will to deceive. Speaking falsehood might be storytelling or making a mistake; it is the intention together with the act itself that fully constitutes the act as a lie.
Drawing from Augustine but going beyond him, Peter Abelard is the first to suggest that the intention of the will is the primary morally relevant fact of an act, over and against performing the act. In his Ethics, Abelard considers several cases where an act that appears to be universally forbidden occurs without incurring sin (e.g., a woman forced into sex, a man having sex with a woman whom he mistakenly believes to be his wife). From such cases, Abelard argues that precepts that seem to forbid certain acts (murder, adultery, lying) are better understood to prohibit not the performance of the acts, but specifically the intention to commit the acts. The intention or consent of the will is the source of the evil, not the act itself. Thomas Aquinas insists that both the external act and the end intended by the agent matter to the constitution of the act as to the sort of act it is. Although some think that Aquinas stresses the external act so strongly as to resist inclusion of the agent’s intention as more than a significant circumstance, Servais Pinckaers has suggested that this emphasis, which occurs primarily in Aquinas’s early work, should be understood as his attempt to correct the overemphasis on intention by Abelard and Lombard. Pinckaers notes that, although the young Aquinas follows Lombard’s language as he considers the substance and accidents of the act, he later shifts to the language of form and matter. In other words, for Aquinas, the end intended as the object of the interior act of the will and the external act that is the object of whatever power the will moves to act are related to one another as form to matter, and both are part of the substance of the act (ST II-I, q. 18, a. 6). Also note that Aquinas places his analysis of the act within the larger context of the person being ordered to an end in union with God. Crucial to his analysis of human action, therefore, is how the agent intends (or fails to intend) to be moved toward that final end by this act. Thomas never loses sight of the idea that both the intention and the act have roles in constituting the essence of human action.
Contemporary Application Christians have always been tempted to allow the intention of a good end to trump scriptural prohibitions of certain acts. Can we not consider lying to be a good, not an evil, when it spares feelings or saves lives? Can we not understand killing to be a good, not an evil, when it secures the peace or protects human rights or even ends the suffering of one terminally ill patient? These questions, asked as we consider simple daily decisions as well as larger social questions such as war, abortion, and euthanasia, push us toward ignoring the commands of Scripture in the name of our own good intentions. Although our intentions do matter in establishing the morality of our actions, a good intention cannot make an evil act good, or a forbidden act permissible. Our analysis of action must never attend to the agent’s intent to the exclusion of the act, nor to the act apart from the agent’s intent. The two must be considered together for a full picture of the moral implications of any act.
See also Accountability; Deontological Theories of Ethics; Desire; Double Effect, Principle of; Moral Agency; Motive(s)
Bibliography
Augustine. “On Lying.” Pages 382-425 in Seventeen Short Treatises of St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, ed. and trans. J. Parker. Oxford University Press, 1982; Pinckaers, S. “A Historical Perspective on Intrinsically Evil Acts.” Pages 185—235 in The Pinckaers Reader: Renewing Thomistic Moral Theology, ed. J. Berkman and C. Titus. Catholic University of America Press, 2005.
Dana L. Dillon
Interest See Loans
Interim Ethic See Sermon on the Mount In-Vitro Fertilization See Reproductive
Technologies
This book takes its name from Isaiah of Jerusalem, a prophet whose ministry spanned the reigns of four Judean kings in the eighth century BCE. However, portions of the book address a much later and much different context in Israel’s history, suggesting that it is a composite work. Chapters 1-39 deal primarily with the events and circumstances of Isaiah’s day; because of rampant corruption and social injustice, the prophet announces that divine judgment is imminent, and that it will come at the hands of Assyria, the reigning world power. A dramatic shift occurs in chapters 40-55 (“Second Isaiah”), which proclaim a message of comfort and restoration to a people who have long been exiles in Babylon (597-539 BCE). Although stylistically similar, chapters 56-66 (“Third Isaiah”) seem to presuppose yet another context, in which the exiles are back in their homeland but struggling to reestablish themselves as a viable community. Recent scholarship, however, has emphasized not only the diversity of this corpus but also its unity. Indeed, it appears that material spanning some 250 years was intentionally edited and shaped to create a thematic/theological coherence. The current form of the book, thus, has an overarching theme that highlights the drama of God’s judgment of Israel for its national sin and the promise of a glorious restoration to follow.
For Isaiah, the moral life is grounded in the character and will of God, who is sovereign over all creation and passionately involved in Israel’s life. Because Judah and its leaders are at odds with God, the word of the Lord, through the mouth of the prophet, confronts the wayward people with a life-or-death choice: if they forsake evil and learn to do good, they will enjoy life on the land; if not, devastation will come (1:16-20; cf. 58:1-14).
To discern and articulate God’s will, Isaiah draws from Israel’s religious heritage, including traditions about Zion that celebrate the supremacy of God and the inviolability of God’s chosen city. In
Isaiah’s theological ethic God’s supremacy relativ-izes, indeed dwarfs, all other claims to power, so that prideful rebelliousness becomes the cardinal moral offense (2:11-22; 3:16-17). Humble obedience and trust are the virtues that the prophet prizes above all (7:3; 26:3-4; 30:15; 32:17; cf. 57:15; 66:2). This fundamental orientation impacts all spheres of life, even international relations. Hence, with Assyria making its westward move, Isaiah counsels the kings of Judah (Ahab in 8:11-15; Hezekiah in 37:6-7) to trust in God, not in diplomatic relations, to protect Jerusalem (30:1-15). Indeed, Assyria is merely the rod of divine judgment (10:5-19), and Judah must temporarily submit to it. Although the Zion tradition promised that God would always defend Jerusalem from its enemies, Isaiah turns that ideology on its head, arguing that because the city had become morally defiled and unfit for God’s presence, God would purify it in judgment to make it habitable once more (4:2-6; 29:1-24).
Of course, obedience to God also has implications for Judah’s internal relations. Instead of caring for the poor and vulnerable members of society as Torah required, Isaiah’s audience was guilty of oppression and miscarriages of justice (1:16-23; 3:13-15; 5:8-24; 10:1-2; 29:21). Land ownership was a focal issue. Family-based land was a vital source of material support, critical for the living of a good life, and Isaiah bewails the destructive conduct of those who amass property at others’ expense (3:14; 5:8). Moreover, he condemns not only the exploitation of the vulnerable but also the habitual drunkenness of the ruling class, which breeds misjudgment (5:11-13, 22-23; 28:1-13). The moral failure has implications for Judah’s religious life. Isaiah categorically denounces its worship practices as detestable (1:10-15), because a right relationship with God cannot be cultivated without a right relationship with one’s neighbor.
Chapters 40-55 address a broken people on the other side of judgment. This corpus engages ethics less directly, and its moral vision must be discerned in the way the prophetic voice breaks through the despair of the exiles and awakens them to renewed trust. The material continues Isaiah’s emphasis on God’s sovereign power but declares that it is now redemptively focused on Israel. Hence, the poet employs both hymnic and disputatious forms to make a passionate appeal for the exiles to trust God instead of Babylon (40:12-31). Even Cyrus the Persian, the emancipator who would take down Babylon and release its captives, is called a servant of God (44:28; 45:1). The prophet also draws from exodus and creation traditions to construct vividly the possibility of a new beginning (see Brown). In short, he marshals his theological resources and vast literary skills to inspire faith and move the people to action (their homeward journey).
At the same time, the enigmatic figure of a humble servant who brings forth justice and healing adds an important qualification to the message of deliverance. The “Servant Songs” (42:1-9; 49:1-6; 50:4-11; 52:13-53:12) suggest that justice is established through one who is willing to suffer for others. They also suggest that Israel’s release from exile is not just for Israel’s sake but has a larger purpose that embraces the nations. This gives meaning to Israel’s suffering. It is not a sign of divine abandonment; rather, the servant’s suffering was God’s surprising way of bringing salvation to all.
Chapters 56-66 reflect the crisis of a people back in Jerusalem struggling to rebuild a city and form a community. And this section of the book also makes some important ethical claims. First, it renews Isaiah’s earlier insistence on obedience to Torah that rises above self-serving scrupulosity (58:1-14; 59:1-15). As before, the focus is on proper administration of justice and tending to the needs of the weak. Second, its conception of community is remarkably inclusive, so that even those formerly excluded from the religious community now share in the new life together (56:3-8).
Finally, in spite of the harsh realities of resettlement, the accent is on the gracious promises of God, surely to be fulfilled (see especially chaps. 60-62; 65:17-25; cf. 40:8; 55:11). Eschatological visions occur throughout the book (2:4; 11:6-9; 35:1-10) but are all the more pronounced at its culmination. They present an alternative vision of reality in which God’s good purposes—shalom, security, fruitfulness, and joy—will prevail over all creation. This hope fuels the moral life. The glorious vision summons the people to a way of living that is commensurate with it and contributes to its realization.
The book ends, however, with a cautionary word of judgment against the rebellious (66:24). Jerusalem, the renewed city, is a wondrous gift from God, but it does not merely descend from heaven. It requires human agents to build it, and that inevitably entails dissension and conflict. Although the book has a decided movement from judgment to hope, the reference to corpses and unquenchable fire stands as an acknowledgment of (and warning against) human strife that continually imperils God’s (re)creation.
See also Eschatology and Ethics; Exile; Old Testament Ethics
Bibliography
Barton, J. “Ethics in the Book of Isaiah.” Pages 67—77 in vol. 1 of Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah: Studies of an Interpretive Tradition, ed. C. Broyles and C. Evans. VTSup 70/1. Brill, 1997; Brown, W. “I Am about to Do a New Thing: Yahweh’s Victory Garden in Second Isaiah.” Pages 229—69 in Ethos of the Cosmos: The Genesis of Moral Imagination in the Bible. Eerdmans, 1999; Brueggemann, W. Isaiah 40—66. WestBC. Westminster John Knox, 1998; Childs, B. Isaiah. OTL. Westminster John
Knox, 2001; Goldingay, J. Isaiah. NIBC. Hendrickson, 2001; Mays, J. “Justice: Perspectives from the Prophetic Tradition.” Int 38 (1983): 5—17; Oswalt, J. “Righteousness in Isaiah: A Study of the Function of Chapters 55—66 in the Present Structure of the Book.” Pages 177—91 in vol. 1 of Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah: Studies of an Interpretive Tradition, ed. C. Broyles and C. Evans. VTSup 70/1. Brill, 1997.
Eunny P. Lee