Drinking alcohol in moderation is neither prohibited nor identified as sinful in the Bible. Typically, consuming alcohol is portrayed as a commonly accepted social practice and a common element in religious rites. Alongside positive references to the moderate consumption of alcohol are numerous passages warning against the abuse of alcohol and condemning drunkenness.
Positive Images
The Bible presents an abundance of positive references to wine and strong drink, portraying the consumption of alcohol as a commonly accepted cultural practice (e.g., Judg. 19:19; 1 Tim. 5:23). Some well-known figures in the OT, such as Isaac, are depicted as drinking wine (Gen. 27:25), and in the NT Jesus served wine at Passover (Luke 22:20; 1 Cor. 11:25-26) and performed his first miracle by turning water into wine (John 2:1-11). Other positive references regard wine as a divine blessing (e.g., Isa. 25:6) and a lack of wine as God’s curse (e.g., Deut. 28:39). Wine is given as a gift (e.g., 1 Sam. 16:20) and used in religious rites (e.g., Lev. 23:13), including the Last Supper, where the symbolic use of “cup” employs wine from the Passover meal (Luke 22:20; 1 Cor. 11:25-26). Wine is also employed as a standard for what is good, so that something can be “better than wine” (e.g., Song 1:2).
Negative Images
Almost all negative texts regarding alcohol warn against its abuse and condemn drunkenness (e.g., Isa. 28:1; Eph. 5:18). One NT text, however, speaks of abstaining from wine in order to prevent a brother or sister from stumbling (Rom. 14:21), and a few passages refer to vows of abstinence, although these apply to a particular group, such as the Levite priests (Lev. 10:9), or, as in the case of John the Baptist, a particular person (Luke 1:15), and are never required of the whole community.
Contemporary Arguments
Since the Bible clearly allows for moderate consumption of alcohol as well as the use of alcohol in religious rituals, on what basis have some Christians maintained that the Bible demands total abstinence from alcohol?
Christians who believe that the Bible teaches abstinence often claim that biblical references to wine indicate either unfermented grape juice or wine so diluted as to have virtually no intoxicating effect unless consumed in large quantities. The Hebrew and Greek words for “wine” and most especially for “strong drink,” however, do not support these assertions. Furthermore, the claim for unfermented grape juice cannot be sustained by the logic of many biblical texts. Why would the
Bible warn against drunkenness if “wine” refers to unfermented grape juice, which, by definition, cannot cause intoxication? After Jesus turned the water into wine at the wedding at Cana, why would the steward have marveled that the bridegroom brought out the good wine after the guests had become intoxicated if it did not contain alcohol (John 2:1-11)? The more common claim that references to wine and strong drink refer to drinks with extremely low alcohol content, thereby providing a necessary alternative to contaminated water, lacks linguistic and cultural evidence. In addition, it does not demand abstinence, but allows one to consume drinks with low alcohol content, especially when consumed for a specific purpose. A third argument, popular among nineteenth-century prohibitionists and sometimes employed today, is the “two wine” theory, which maintains that in the Bible the word wine sometimes refers to alcohol and other times indicates unfermented grape juice. Since the same word for wine is used in both cases, the “two wine” theory is impossible to support with unbiased linguistic arguments.
Making Biblical Claims
Although one cannot rightly maintain that the Bible forbids the consumption of alcohol, one also cannot claim that Christians who choose abstinence are only following personal or cultural preferences with no guidance from Scripture. Only by means of prooftexting can one say that a decision to refrain from drinking alcohol cannot be informed by the Bible. For instance, the Bible provides strong advocacy for the least of the brothers and sisters (Matt. 25:31-46) and exhorts us to define our own actions by their effect on others (Rom. 14:21). Given the potentially devastating financial, emotional, and physical effects of alcoholism and alcohol-related accidents, Christians can heed the biblical imperatives to love your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18; Matt. 19:19) and to treat the body as a temple (1 Cor. 6:19-20) by choosing total abstinence. This choice is clearly informed by the Bible, even though the Bible does not explicitly prohibit drinking alcohol.
Hence, Christians who consume alcohol in moderation cannot claim that their teetotaling brothers and sisters have no biblical grounds for their decision to refrain from drinking. However, Christians who judge other Christians for allowing moderate consumption of alcohol have no biblical basis for their condemnation either. Perhaps the best scriptural guidance to inform Christian attitudes about drinking alcohol arises from the contrasting portrayals of John the Baptist, who exercised abstinence, and Jesus, who did not. The Pharisees condemned them both: “For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ ” (Luke 7:33-34). Christians can, with John the Baptist and in allegiance to Jesus’ concern for the least of the brothers and sisters, choose total abstinence, or they can, in line with numerous passages from the Bible as well as Jesus’ own actions, choose to drink in moderation. Those who choose abstinence and those who choose moderation can together follow biblical teaching by fighting against the abuse of alcohol.
See also Asceticism; Body; Temperance Bibliography
West, J. Drinking with Calvin and Luther: A History of Alcohol in the Church. Oakdown, 2005; Whitfield, D. “Alcohol and the Bible.” http://chetday.com/alcoholand thebible.htm.
Nancy J. Duff
Migration has been a human reality throughout history. People move for many reasons, and the various labels assigned to them reflect these circumstances. The term refugee refers to those who are forced to abandon their place of origin because of a natural disaster or to escape a war zone or the threat of violent persecution. These persons seek asylum in a different place through their own efforts or through the intervention of international agencies such as the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, which works with governments and local organizations (often religious institutions) to resettle them. Ideally, treatment of refugees should follow internationally agreed conventions.
The term immigrant is used of those who leave home willingly and desire short- or long-term residence somewhere else. Most migrate in an effort to find employment and to provide their family a suitable life and future. Entry into a new land can be done according to proper protocols at established ports of entry or outside of that legal framework. Another category is “internally displaced persons,” referring to those who remain within their national boundaries but change locations for the same reasons appropriate to refugee or immigrant status.
The twenty-first century is witnessing the movement of millions across borders. This demographic phenomenon impacts local and international economies, brings unforeseen pressures on law enforcement and the integrity of national borders, can strain educational and healthcare infrastructures, and is raising concerns about cultural identity in receiving countries. Living in a different culture creates challenges for the recently arrived populations as well. They wrestle with their own identity as they engage the complex problems related to their economic survival and accommodation to strange surroundings. Another affected sphere is religion. Refugees and immigrants around the world are revitalizing their traditions, Christian and non-Christian, and bringing fresh perspectives on the practice of their faith to their new lands.
Migration and the Bible
Migration and its effects are a major topic in both the OT and the NT. Then, as now, the reasons for migration vary Many of those in the Bible who migrated would be categorized technically today as refugees or as forcefully displaced, but the descriptions of life and the theological reflection that those situations generated mirror the experiences of migrants everywhere. Scripture can offer distinct but interrelated messages to those who take in the outsider and to the newcomers. The majority culture that accepts refugees and immigrants learns that God loves the vulnerable. This divine concern should shape attitudes and orient actions on behalf of the stranger. Also, those who come from another place can be encouraged and empowered by God’s commitment to the weak and by the biblical accounts of others of similar fate.
Biblical terminology. Several terms are used to refer to outsiders in the Bible. It is possible that each carries a discrete nuance. These distinctions are difficult to discern, however, because of the complexity of the biblical data and because of inconsistencies in the English versions. The same English word can be used for various Hebrew and Greek terms, and a particular Hebrew or Greek term is translated by different English words. The most common translations of the words in question are alien, stranger, resident alien, foreigner, and sojourner.
The relevant Hebrew terms in the OT are the nouns nekar, tosab, and ger, and the adjectives nokri and zar. This variety in terminology implies that Israel differentiated among the outsiders in their midst. The terms nekar/nokri and zar can refer to something or someone who is foreign to Israel. These can be neutral designations (e.g., nokri in Ruth 2:10; 1 Kgs. 8:41, 43), but frequently they carry a negative connotation of being a corrupting influence or a threat (nekar/nokri in Josh. 24:20; 1 Kgs. 11:1-8; Ezra 9-10; Neh. 13:23-27; Ps. 144:7; zar in Deut. 32:16; Prov. 22:14; Isa. 1:7). Those who are nekar/nokri are excluded from participating in certain rituals (Exod. 12:43) and from office (Deut. 17:15). Perhaps these were outsiders who did not seek to stay and integrate themselves into Israelite life and faith. The term tosab is harder to define. In the few places where tosab occurs, it often is in parallel with “hired servant” (Exod. 12:45; Lev. 25:6, 40) or ger (Gen. 23:4; Lev. 25:23). In the latter case, some argue, the combination is to be construed as “resident alien” (Lev. 25:35, 47). The most significant term in the OT is ger. The ger, as its verbal root gur suggests (“to take up residence”), is someone from elsewhere who settled down on a temporary or permanent basis. There are a series of provisions in the OT law for these individuals, who had made a commitment to become part of the community of Israel. It is impossible to determine whether this incorporation into national life was simply part of natural processes or if at some point formal procedures were established to make it official. As will become evident, the OT’s contribution to discussions on refugees and immigrants is not limited to passages where these terms appear.
The relevant NT words are xenos, paroikos, and parepidemos. These refer to people or things that may come from elsewhere and so appear to be out of place and have no status. The word xenos occurs four times in Matt. 25:31-46, where Jesus identifies the stranger with himself. Xenos and its verbal root, xenizo, can indicate something that is alien and unwelcome (e.g., Acts 17:20; Heb. 13:9). This word is the source of the English term xenophobia, which is the fear or dislike of someone foreign. It occurs in parallel with paroikos in Eph. 2:19 to refer to the relationship to the household of God that people have before they come to faith, and with parepidemos in Heb. 11:13 to describe how past saints viewed themselves in the world. Pa-roikos and parepidemos appear together in 1 Pet. 2:11. They may point to the legal standing in the
Roman Empire of the recipients of the letter as well as to their new spiritual reality in the world (cf. 1 Pet. 1:1).
Old Testament narratives. The place to ground discussion on refugees and immigrants is the creation of humankind in the image of God in Gen. 1:26-28. There are several interpretations of the meaning of the image. The ontological view holds that the image of God concerns what humans are and what they possess (an intellect, will, emotions, and a spiritual component). Some argue for a relational perspective, which holds that it refers to the unique communion with God available to humans through Christ, the supreme embodiment of the divine image (2 Cor. 4:4; Col. 1:15). A third view contends that the image is functional. It is humanity’s special task to rule as God’s vice-regents on earth. All three options assert that every person has worth. Outsiders also are created in the divine image. They too are valuable in God’s sight and worthy of respect. Their giftedness as humans signifies that they have great potential. For these newcomers, the image communicates that there is no warrant to feel inferior as second-class persons. At the same time, there is a claim on their lives. The image can be a motivation for them to develop skills for the common good and to live responsibly as God’s representatives in their adopted land.
The movement of individuals and groups begins in the opening chapters of Genesis. Cain is condemned to perpetual wandering for murdering Abel (Gen. 4:10-14). In the biblical narrative humanity is scattered at Babel, and this dispersal yields the multiplication of nations (Gen. 10-11). Nations have geographical boundaries (Gen. 10:5, 20, 30-31; cf. Deut. 32:8; Acts 17:26), but peoples have migrated across these for millennia. The story of the chosen people begins with Terah’s move from Ur to Haran and Abram’s subsequent pilgrimage from there to Canaan (Gen. 11:31-12:5). In other words, the history of the patriarch and his descendants is one born of migration (Gen. 23:4; cf. Deut. 26:5).
Many move to survive. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (and his sons and their families) sojourn temporarily in different places in their search for food (Egypt [Gen. 12; 42-46]; the Negev [Gen. 20]; Philistia [Gen. 26]). Jacob goes north to Aram to flee the wrath of his brother Esau and lives for a time with Laban and his family (Gen. 27-31). Moses leaves Egypt for many years to avoid trouble for killing someone; he marries a Midianite and names their son “Gershom,” a word play on the term get (Exod. 2). Naomi and her family leave Bethlehem in a time of famine and cross the Jordan into Moab. Ten years later, now a widow and with both her sons dead, she moves back with Ruth, her daughter-in-law. Naomi the immigrant has returned home, and now Ruth is the immigrant. Survival is still the issue, however, and Ruth goes to the fields to glean alongside the harvesters of Boaz. Others are removed forcibly from their homes. Joseph is betrayed and sold into slavery. He overcomes difficult circumstances in Egypt, rises to become second to Pharaoh, and helps save that land from starvation (Gen. 37; 39-41). He prepares the way for his father and the rest of his clan to migrate to the Nile Delta and settle in Goshen (Gen. 47:1-12). Centuries later, thousands are taken into exile into several regions of Mesopotamia when Israel falls to Assyria in the eighth century BCE (2 Kgs. 17), and Judah to Babylon in the sixth century BCE (2 Kgs. 24-25).
Life in other lands could be harsh. After a time, the ruler of Egypt forgot Joseph’s contributions and exploited the Israelites as slave labor for building projects (Exod. 1; 5). Egyptian sources describe measures (e.g., building a line of forts along the eastern frontier) to keep out certain groups seeking pasture and employment in the fertile regions of the Nile River. Inscriptional evidence indicates that some in Assyrian exile became domestic servants; others were assigned to work on farms or in construction. Psalm 137 voices the anger, shame, and homesickness of those forcibly removed from Judah by Babylon. Not everyone, though, endured such harsh fates. In Egypt some foreigners rose to prominence (Joseph [Gen. 41]; Moses [Exod. 1-2]). Daniel lived in the royal precincts, where he served several kings with distinction. Esther’s uncle Mordecai seems to have been a man of some means, and this young woman became queen of the Persian Empire. Nehemiah was cupbearer to the Persian king Artaxerxes, a post that required absolute loyalty. Ezra and Ezekiel apparently ministered freely among their people in exile.
Another key issue, pertinent to both the host culture and migrant populations, is the accommodation of newcomers to their new situations. The OT narratives reflect a spectrum of assimilation processes and their effects. Some desire little acculturation. Ezra, for example, as a priest deeply committed to the law, seems to have assimilated little. He desires instead to return to his homeland and to reestablish life there according to the demands of the Mosaic covenant.
Others assimilate to a significant degree but do not totally forget their roots. Naomi goes back to seek the support of friends and kin in Bethlehem after the death of her husband and sons. Jeremiah instructs those in exile to plan for a long stay and to invest their lives in the place where they find themselves. This advice is accompanied by an exhortation to continue to trust in the God of Israel in light of a possible future return (Jer. 29:1-14). Daniel and his friends receive Babylonian names and are trained for service to the empire. Yet, even as they fulfill their duties, they maintain the dietary laws and openly testify to their faith, even at great personal cost (Dan. 1-6). Nehemiah is cupbearer to the king but still is attentive to news from his ancestral land. He leaves with the king’s permission and support to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. He revitalizes Jewish society as governor but after a time returns to his post in the Persian court.
Still others evidently experience almost total assimilation. Joseph is given an Egyptian name, marries an Egyptian, and has two sons by her (Gen. 41:45, 50-52). He is so acculturated that his brothers do not recognize him. Interestingly, Joseph had not forgotten his mother tongue and understands their conversation (Gen. 42-45). Following Egyptian custom, he embalms Jacob after his death, and the same is done to him (Gen. 50:2, 26). Moses is thought to be an Egyptian by the women at the well (Exod. 2:19). Ruth leaves her homeland and declares her intention to take on the identity of her mother-in-law’s people (Ruth 1:16-17). Yet, as one who has recently arrived, Ruth must be coached by Naomi on how to navigate the different cultural mores and institutions (Ruth 2-3). Ruth marries Boaz and is fully accepted into the Israelite community. The closing lines of the narrative reveal that this immigrant woman is a key piece in the genealogy of David (Ruth 4:13-22). Esther is generations removed from the fall of Judah. Like many exiles, she had both a Jewish and a Persian name (Esth. 2:7). Mordecai, her relative, must have done well for himself financially and socially in order to have the right to sit at the city gate (e.g., Esth. 3:2; 5:9). That this prosperous foreigner did not do him homage infuriated Haman and motivated him to seek the destruction of all the Jews. Mordecai demonstrates loyalty to the king by uncovering an assassination plot (Esth. 2:21-23), even as he works through Esther to save their people (Esth. 4; 8-10). There is no indication that either contemplated returning to the land.
From these same narratives it is possible to reconstruct a continuum of responses of the host peoples: from Egyptian anxiety of being overrun by large numbers of foreign workers (and their violent effort to halt the growth of that population) and Haman’s hatred of the Jews, to the ambivalent reception of Abraham (Gen. 12:10-20; 26:6-11), to the inclusion of Ruth by the Bethlehemites and the deep trust that Artaxerxes has in Nehemiah, and Nebuchadnezzar and Darius in Daniel. These diverse emotional reactions are accompanied by diverse political decisions and social arrangements. The treatment of immigrants, however they arrived, was an issue in the ancient world.
Finally, mention should be made of the ancient practice of hospitality toward strangers. The people of God practiced this openness toward others (e.g., Abraham [Gen. 18:1-8]) and also were beneficiaries of gracious treatment when they traveled elsewhere (e.g., Moses [Exod. 2:15-20]). Kindness toward the outsider reflected righteousness before God (Job 31:32).
The OT narratives can orient discussion about immigration and refugees in several ways. For example, they demonstrate that migration was a fundamental reality for many peoples of the Bible, even as it is today. It is not a recent or isolated phenomenon. Moreover, the kinds of forces that drive contemporary migration, such as basic human needs and military conflict, and the mistreatment that strangers sometimes endure are present in the biblical accounts. The different assimilation experiences in these accounts also mirror modern variations. An appreciation of the Scriptures as in large measure a collection of the stories of migrant and displaced peoples can sensitize today’s receiving communities to the presence and plight of these persons in their midst. That the Bible contains migration accounts is helpful too for those who have migrated. In its pages the displaced discover individuals and circumstances with which they can identify. They are exposed to examples of how to live faithfully in potentially adverse situations (e.g., Joseph, Ruth, Ezra, Nehemiah, Daniel) in full confidence that God is with them no matter where they are on the assimilation spectrum and irrespective of the kind of welcome they experience in their new land.
Old Testament law. Sojourners (the term get), whether from another country or internally displaced, were especially vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life. This is evident in that they are classified with widows, orphans, and the poor as being most at risk. There were no governmental assistance programs such as we have today. The extended family was to provide a safety net in times of need. The difficulty for these outsiders was that they were separated from those kinship networks. Moreover, they were outside the local land tenure system, where property was passed on within the family through male heirs. In an agrarian peasant society such as Israel, these outsiders, without family and land, were at the mercy of the Israelites for sustenance, work, and protection.
The provision of food was a constant concern because sojourners depended on others for day-today living. They were at risk of being overworked and underpaid (or not paid at all). As outsiders, they might find themselves at a disadvantage in legal matters. Legislation in the OT responds to these challenges. Sojourners qualified, along with those other needy groups, for the gleaning laws at harvest time (Lev. 19:9-10; Deut. 24:19-22) and the triennial tithe (Deut. 14:28-29). They were to be given rest on the Sabbath (Exod. 20:10; Deut. 5:14) and be paid a fair wage on time (Deut. 24:1415). No one was to take advantage of them in the courts (Deut. 1:16-17; 27:19). The prophets denounced those who oppressed the sojourner (Jer. 7:5-7; 22:2-5; Mal. 3:5).
The law does not stipulate specific penalties for not showing compassion toward the sojourner. Instead, it makes a moral appeal rooted in two primary motivations. First, the Israelites must never forget that they had been despised foreigners in another land. At one time, they had been workers in Egypt’s oppressive system, but they had been redeemed by God’s gracious, powerful hand. That is, as descendants of immigrants, they should be generous to the sojourners among them. That saga of migration was to define them, and the treatment of the outsider served as a measure of their faith in God (Lev. 19:34; Exod. 23:9). From the very outset of their escape from Egypt, outsiders had lived among them (Exod. 12:38). The Israelites themselves were sojourners still in that land of which God was the owner (Lev. 25:23). The second and more important reason to love the sojourner is that God does. God demands charity toward the weak, including the outsider (Deut. 10:14-19; cf. Ps. 146:6-9; Jer. 7:4-7; Zech. 7:8-10).
The legislation related to sojourners was generous, but mutuality was assumed as well. With these benefits came the expectation of accommodation by the outsider. The sojourner was expected to learn the laws of the land (Deut. 31:10-13; cf. Josh. 8:34-35). Penalties for violations were to be the same for native and outsider alike (Lev. 24:22; Num. 15:29). Participation in religious feasts (e.g., Exod. 12:48-49; 20:8-11; Lev. 16:29-30; Deut. 16:11, 14) required conversion, an awareness of procedures, and the ability to speak Hebrew. These laws point to a degree of assimilation into the local community. The prophets spoke of a future day when there would be a shared life with outsiders (Isa. 56:1-8; Ezek. 47:21-23).
This legal material remains relevant for the contemporary situation. As Scripture, the law is part of the divine revelation to the church, which must discern guidance from its demands. Even though these laws indeed were designed for Israel—its time, place, and culture—their significance reaches beyond that ancient people of God. Deuteronomy 4:5-8 states that Israel’s legislation (and thus their laws regarding the sojourner) was a witness to the other nations of the character of God and the fundamental values that can make for a healthy society. Then and now, other nations will have their own particular legislation and socioeconomic configurations for outsiders, but the divine insistence on their care remains.
The New Testament. An examination of relevant material in the NT starts with Jesus himself. When he was a small child, Jesus and his family fled to Egypt to avoid Herod’s rampage (Matt. 2:13-15). No information about the length of their sojourn in Egypt is provided, but at that time there was a large, long-standing Jewish community there. Jesus lived as a refugee in a foreign land, and so life in another place as a displaced person was part of his personal experience.
In his teaching Jesus never deals directly with the topic of migration. Nevertheless, at least two items are relevant. First, Jesus involved himself with those who were different and despised by the broader community. On several occasions he engaged the Samaritans, a people loathsome to many Jews. Jesus spoke with a Samaritan woman (John 4:7-26), and he uses a Samaritan as a paragon of righteousness in his response to the question “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29-37). This teaching is consistent with his call to reach out to the marginalized—gentiles, women, the poor, the sick, and those classified as sinners by the religious authorities.
The second point concerns Jesus’ pronouncement in Matt. 25:31-46 about caring for the stranger (vv. 35, 38, 43-44). Advocates for refugees and immigrants often appeal to this passage to defend the rights of outsiders. This interpretation is possible but faces the problem that the referent is disputed. The occurrences of the qualification “the least of these” and “brothers” (Matt. 25:40, 45) may restrict these individuals to Jesus’ disciples (cf. Matt. 10:42; 12:48-50; 18:6, 10, 14; 28:10). If this latter interpretation is the better one, then the “strangers” are followers who suffer for Jesus’ sake at the hands of others.
The forced displacement of believers due to persecution is recorded in Acts. Many are scattered by the persecution headed by Saul (later called “Paul”), himself a Diaspora Jew (Acts 8:1-5; cf. Rev. 1:9), and itinerant preachers apparently were a common phenomenon in the early church (cf. the missionary journeys of Paul; 1 Cor. 16:5-18; Gal. 4:13-14; Phil. 2:19-30; 3 John 5-10). There also are multiethnic churches with believers from various backgrounds and places of origin (e.g., Acts 13:1), a mix that produced tensions (Acts 15; Gal. 2; Eph. 2).
The NT Epistles reveal that all Christians are sojourners in a spiritual sense; their citizenship ultimately lies elsewhere (Phil. 3:20; Heb. 13:14). In 1 Pet. 1:1; 2:11 the author speaks of believers as “aliens” and “strangers.” The addressees of this letter may have been literal exiles who had been moved by the empire. If so, that legal standing reflected in unique ways their spiritual status as Christians. In addition, hospitality toward others, whether fellow believers or unfamiliar persons, is a Christian virtue. All Christians are to be gracious to others (Rom. 12:13; Heb. 13:2; 1 Pet. 4:9; cf. Luke 14:12-14), and this quality should distinguish the leadership of the church (1 Tim. 3:2; Titus 1:8).
Migration, Theology, and Mission Both the OT and the NT have much to teach concerning the migration of people. This survey has pointed out that refugees and immigrants are made in the image of God, that migration is part of human experience, that many biblical “heroes” were displaced persons, and that OT legislation was benevolent to the vulnerable in many concrete ways. The life and teachings of Jesus demonstrate the need for believers to consider the possibility that those who are different may be the very ones who can lead them to a deeper faith, while the NT Epistles call the church to care for the outsider. After all, every Christian is an outsider—a stranger—in the world. This extensive scriptural material should shape attitudes and actions toward outsiders. Today, many believers need to be reminded that they are descendants of immigrants and displaced people, and that to follow the God of the Bible means being gracious toward those whom he loves. How these biblical perspectives and moral demands take shape in personal behavior, church initiatives, and civil legislation that can promote human flourishing and the common good depends on the impact of the Christian ethical voice and involvement.
These multiple challenges for migrant populations, which contain many Christians, have spawned creative theological reflection. As in the days of the Jewish exile and during the early years of the church, displaced believers are wrestling in fresh ways with the person of God and the nature of faith. New ways of thinking are attempting to move beyond traditional theological categories and limited interpretations of the Bible that have not given enough attention to the views and experiences of marginalized peoples. Theologians and pastoral workers are turning to postcolonial studies, international law, the histories of migration, and sociological and anthropological work on ethnicity, hybrid-ity, and transnationalism to better comprehend the situation of immigrants and refugees—that is, the modern-day human diaspora in an era of globalization. This diaspora theology seeks to speak from and for these people, whether to encourage those who suffer as victims of their circumstances or to orient those who see their displacement as an important moment in the worldwide work of the sovereign God. Inevitably, these efforts are leading to new appreciations and understandings of the character and mission of the church that will enrich theology and Christian practice.
See also Exile; Globalization; Hospitality; Image of God; Nationalism; Population Policy and Control
Bibliography
Brettell, C., and J. Hollifield. Migration Theory: Talking across Disciplines. 2nd ed. Routledge, 2008; Carroll R., M. D. Christians at the Border: Immigration, the Church, and the Bible. Baker Academic, 2008; Groody, D., ed. A Promised Land, a Perilous Journey: Theological Perspectives on Migration. University of Notre Dame Press, 2008; Hanciles, J. Beyond Christendom: Globalization, African Migration and the Transformation of the West. Orbis, 2008; Hoffmeier, J. The Immigration Crisis: Immigrants, Aliens, and the Bible. Crossway, 2009; Miller, P “Israel as Host to Strangers.” Pages 548—71 in Israelite Religion and Biblical Theology: Collected Essays. JSOTSup 267. Sheffield Academic Press, 2000; O’Neil, W., and W. Spohn. “Rights of Passage: The Ethics of Immigration and Refugee Policy.” TS 59 (1998): 84-106; Pohl, C. “Responding to Strangers: Insights from the Christian Tradition.” SCE 19 (2006): 81-101; Pontifical Council for the Pastoral Care of Migrants and Itinerant People. The Love of Christ towards Migrants: Instruction. Catholic Truth Society, 2004; Ramirez Kidd, J. Alterity and Identity in Israel: The “Ger” in the Old Testament. BZAW 283. De Gruyter, 1999; Rivera, L. “Toward a Diaspora Hermeneutics (Hispanic North America).” Pages 169-89 in Character Ethics and the Old Testament: Moral Dimensions of Scripture, ed. M. D. Carroll R. and J. Lapsley. Westminster John Knox, 2007; Smith-Christopher, D. A Biblical Theology of Exile. OBT. Fortress, 2002; Soerens, M., and J. Hwang. Welcoming the Stranger: Justice, Compassion, and Truth in the Immigration Debate. InterVarsity, 2009; Waters, M., and R. Ueda, eds. The New Americans: A Guide to Immigration since 1965. Harvard University Press, 2007.
M. Daniel Carroll R. (Rodas)
Almsgiving in the NT refers to benevolent activity on behalf of the needy as an expression of genuine social solidarity—that is, of caring for and embracing those in need as if they were members of one’s own kin group. Although the terminology of “almsgiving” is absent from the OT, Israel’s Scriptures both call for the care of the needy (conventionalized in references to “the alien, the orphan, and the widow”) and provide the theological footing of the practice in the Gospels and Acts. By way of more specific background, we can point to legislation concerning “gleaning rights” (Deut. 24:19-22), loans to the poor (Exod. 22:25; Lev. 25:35-37), and the tithe for the needy (Deut. 14:27-29).
Almsgiving is one of several responses among
the Jews to the burdensome economic situation
under Roman occupation (compare, e.g., the “community of goods” among the Essenes and in the Jerusalem church, banditry, and revolutionary activity against Rome). In addition to day-to-day economic struggles in an agrarian-based economy, war, failed crops, natural disasters, and taxes set the stage for the downward mobility of persons below the level of subsistence. However, neither Rome nor the regional governments supported by Rome made allowances for assistance in times of distress. The urban elite might provide benefaction in isolated instances, but the situation at the time of Jesus was characterized by the near absence of charitable practices in the Roman world. Jesus’ commentary on the situation of the prodigal son living in need is thus a faithful barometer of socioeconomic realities: “no one gave him anything” (Luke 15:16).
Recognizing that economic sharing is embedded in social relations, we can see immediately the problem of “giving to the poor” in Roman antiquity. Often, giving to the needy was rank-specific, so as to allow those who had temporarily fallen on hard times to maintain their accustomed status. Otherwise, the practice of giving to the needy would exist outside of normal structures of reciprocity; that is, givers had nothing to gain from the gift because they could never be repaid and because giving to the destitute did not enhance one’s social stature in public life. This is exactly the point of almsgiving, however. Thus, according to the Gospels, Jesus castigates the Pharisees and scribes because they shared none of their resources with the needy and engaged in acts of greed; in other words, their practices distanced them from the needy (Luke 11:39-41; 20:47). Similarly, in the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus directs a rich man to sell what he has and give to the poor (Matt. 19:21; Mark 10:21; Luke 18:22). He does not ask this rich man to embrace poverty per se, otherwise he could have counseled disinvestment without redistribution. Rather, in this scenario, to preserve one’s wealth was to preserve one’s social distance from the marginal. In another example, in Luke 19:1-10, a rich man, Zacchaeus, demonstrates his identity with the poor through almsgiving. Almsgiving, then, takes place apart from the normal structures of socioeconomic reciprocity and is not a measure of honor and status, except before God, who sees and rewards such practices (Matt. 6:1-18; Luke 6:27-36; 14:12-14; Acts 10:1-4).
In the early church, Clement of Alexandria (150-215 CE) is known for his unrelenting emphasis on almsgiving. Perhaps without engaging in sufficient critical reflection on how wealth is produced, Clement encouraged Christian participation in business affairs and entrepreneurial activity in the commercially oriented Alexandria so that Christians might be in a better position to assist the poor. For him, the solution to the problem of scarcity was, first, a renegotiation of consumption—“The best wealth is to have few desires” (Paed. 2.3)—and, second, for the wealthy to come to the aid of the needy.
Clearly, almsgiving should not be confused with such contemporary “acts of charity” as giving a small monetary gift to the homeless person one passes each day. In light of the social nature of economic sharing, giving small amounts to the needy and giving to those with whom one has no expectation of genuine relationship do not qualify as illustrations of almsgiving.
See also Charity, Works of; Economic Ethics; Koinonia; Tithe, Tithing
Bibliography
Hamel, G. Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine, First Three Centuries C.E. University of California Press, 1990; Kim, K.-J. Stewardship and Almsgiving in Luke’s Theology. JSNTSup 155. Sheffield Academic Press, 1998; Moxnes, H. The Economy of the Kingdom: Social Conflict and Economic Relations in Luke’s Gospel. OBT. Fortress, 1988.
Joel B. Green
Altruism is a broad sociological classification for other-regarding actions that emerged in the nineteenth century as a secular alternative to the language of charity, benevolence, and Christian love. Although it captures the other-regarding essence of generous behaviors, it is now so deeply identified with self-sacrifice that it hardly captures the ways in which a generous life contributes to the happiness and flourishing of altruists (e.g., as exemplified in 2 Cor. 9:7, “God loves a cheerful giver”). Moreover, it does not distinguish between the various forms of altruism. Altruism can be based on reason alone, on instinct, and on position or role expectation (e.g., a firefighter). Hence the Pauline words, “If I give everything I have to feed the poor . . . but have not love, I gain nothing” (1 Cor. 13:2-3). In other words, we can sacrifice ourselves for others, but in the absence of love, we have achieved little.
From the Christian perspective, the highest human expression of altruism is altruistic love, or agape. Love includes an emotional center that affirms others in a tenderness and concern, and that is palpable in things such as facial expression and tone of voice. Altruistic love is an intentional affirmation of the other, combining emotion and reason with action. Its agapic enhancement involves elevation by worldview (including biblical teachings) and the experience of divine love.
In the Christian tradition, forms of altruism that are widely extensive beyond kin, that are enduring over time, and that are purely motivated have some grounding in the work of the Holy Spirit. As it is written, “By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal. 5:22-23). Or as Jas. 1:17 reads, “Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” And perhaps most centrally, in 1 John 4:19, “We love because [God] first loved us.”
The Christian theological tradition has not embraced the language of altruism, which originated in a positivistic effort to displace the particularity of agape love. The historical tension between Christianity and secular altruistic science has severely limited the potential for dialogue between theology and science around agape love.
Altruism, even without the emotionally intense features that are associated with love, concerns the role of the other in moral experience. By the strictest definition, the altruist is someone who does something for the other and for the other’s sake rather than as a means to self-promotion or internal well-being—for example, even the feeling of inner satisfaction. A more balanced definition would indicate that a sense of internal well-being as an indirect side effect of altruistic behavior does not imply that the agent’s psychological motive is somehow impure and egoistic. Many philosophers have argued for the motivational reality of altruism, even if mixed with some subordinated egoistic desires to get what the self wants or needs, so long as the controlling aim is to give to the other what he or she may want or need. Psychological altruism exists when the agent seeks to promote the well-being of the other “at least primarily for the other person’s sake” (Hazo 18). However, if altruistic acts are purely tactical, then there is no genuine psychological altruism present, and the action is primarily egoistic. In the broadest terms, the altruist no longer sees self as the only center of value, but discovers the other as other (Levinas; Wyschogrod) rather than as an entity in orbit around the self in its egoism. Claims of the self to ontological centrality are set aside.
Altruism is other-regarding, either with regard to actions or motivations; altruistic love adds the feature of deep affirmative affect to altruism; agape is altruistic love universalized to all humanity as informed by theistic commitments and the experience of the Holy Spirit. Pitirim Sorokin noted that the great sages of altruistic love seem to embody an attractive force of love that they have discovered as objectively existing in the universe, and that is associated with a Supreme Being or “Supracon-ciousness.” Something is at work in love for all humanity that has connections with spirituality.
See also Affections; Agape; Benevolence; Care, Caring; Charity, Works of; Fruit of the Spirit; Selfishness; Self-Love
Bibliography
Hazo, R. The Idea of Love. Praeger, 1976; Levinas, I. Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority. Duquesne University Press, 1969; Sober, E., and D. Wilson. Unto Others: The Evolution and Psychology of Unselfish Behavior. Harvard University Press, 1998; Sorokin, P. The Ways and Power of Love: Types, Factors, and Techniques of Moral Transformation. Beacon Press, 1954; Vacek, E. Love, Human and Divine: The Heart of Christian Ethics. Georgetown University Press, 1994; Wycshogrod, E. Saints and Postmodernism: Revising Moral Philosophy. University of Chicago Press, 1990.
Stephen Post
The book of Amos perennially has generated interest because of its strong ethical message. Its strident condemnation of oppression and of religious ritual has resonated in diverse contexts over time. Many consider Amos and other prophets of that era—Isaiah, Micah, and Hosea—as the zenith of what has been called “ethical monotheism”: they are champions of God’s universal demand for justice. Recently, liberation theologies have found a valuable resource in Amos.
The book’s heading (1:1) locates the prophet in the reign of Jeroboam II of Israel in the mideighth century BCE. This was a time of economic exploitation facilitated by the internal policies of the monarchy and international political and economic realities. The text is less interested in analyzing these underlying realities than in appealing to moral sensibilities concerning the plight of the needy, the arrogance of nationalism, and the nature of acceptable worship.
The book of Amos draws on various strands of theological traditions in ancient Israel. Its vocabulary and themes find echoes in the wisdom literature and the covenant demands of the law, while the concern for the sanctuaries and rituals suggests that the prophet was well acquainted with
the religious world of that time. The moral voice of
Amos is full of indignation and sarcasm, and the ethical realities presented in the book are complex and include every sphere of social life.
The exploitation of the poor is a key theme. They are sold into slavery because of debts and suffer undue taxation and unfair treatment in legal proceedings (2:6; 5:10-15; 8:4-6). In the midst of this injustice the comfortable enjoy abundance (3:15-4:3; 6:4-6; cf. Isa. 3:16-4:1; 5:8-25; Jer. 22:1-16). The well-to-do acquire their goods and status with violence toward the vulnerable (3:9-10; cf. Mic. 2:1-5; 3:1-4). The cruelty of the nations in warfare that is condemned in the opening chapter is evident within the borders of the people of God in the abuse of the unfortunate.
Although this socioeconomic criticism is aimed at those who take advantage of the weak, the prophet also turns his withering gaze against the nation as a whole. He mocks its military pretense. The litany of conflicts in chap. 1, the mockery of insignificant victories (6:13), and the announcement of comprehensive defeat in the near future (2:14-16; 3:11-12; 5:1-3, 16-17, 27; 6:8-14; 7:9, 17; 8:1-3, 9-10; 9:9-10) undermine Israel’s confident posturing. Apparently, this pride in military power was shared by the entire populace. All crowded the sanctuaries to celebrate the national deity, whom they felt would ensure their safety. But the Lord God of hosts will have none of this worship that ignores oppression and takes his endorsement for granted (3:14; 4:4-6; 5:4-6, 18-27; 7:9; 9:1; cf. Isa. 1:10-20; 58; Jer. 7:1-11; Mic. 6:6-8; Mal. 3:2-5). The visions reveal that Israel is “so small” (7:1-6) and that its mighty fortresses actually have walls like “tin” (7:7-8 NET [not “plumb line,” as in many translations]). The religious ideology that Amos so fiercely derides is defended by the high priest Amaziah (7:10-13). What made this uncritical and self-deceiving wedding of patriotism and religion even more insidious is that those who are the victims of the injustices of the nation cheer this perversion of the divine will along with the rest.
They stubbornly accept that system and champion king and country (4:4-12).
The Lord desires that Israel seek and love the good and hate evil. This “good” is to be manifested concretely in the socioeconomic relationships of the community (5:10-15). It is to be the public display of righteousness and charity, which they have distorted and undermined (5:7; 6:12). God desires both just structures and a people of virtue. Ideally, they would have been nurtured in those ideals in their worship gatherings and would have had exemplars worth imitating in their leaders, but this is clearly not the case (4:1; 6:1; 7:9-10, 16-17; cf. Isa. 1:23; Ezek. 34).
The coming judgment is comprehensive. Some readers are troubled that all suffer the divine punishment. The text teaches, however, that sin and its recompense are not only individual or perfectly symmetrical. Judgments in history are not tidy. The personal and the social are interwoven, and the web of community ties complicates the nature of sin and chastisement. Transgression is systemic; it is embedded in social relationships in every sphere, and all are complicit at some level. The ideological distortions of faith also know no class, racial, or gender boundaries. Nations violate the norms of God on the international stage as well, as they go to war to acquire power, labor, and land (1:3-2:3; cf. Isa. 13-23; Jer. 46-51).
Amos teaches that everyone is guilty, especially the people of God whose knowledge and experience place them beyond excuse (2:11-12; 3:1-2; 9:7). At times, those who are innocent of some of these transgressions endure undeserved hardship. That is why the leaders are held most responsible for the plight and fate of their people. They make the domestic and foreign policies that affect everyone else and set a moral tone for society.
The broad, realistic ethical vision of Amos incorporates economics, politics, and religion. It involves individuals, social groups, and the entire nation in its censure. Yet this book also proclaims a future of peace, plenty, and a restored relationship with God and creation beyond the present injustice and the imminent wrath (9:11-15). Judgment is not God’s final word. That future is an ethical hope that helps readers bear the contradictions of today and should motivate them to work to approximate that coming reality in the contemporary world.
See also Economic Ethics; Exploitation; Idolatry; Justice; Liberationist Ethics; Old Testament Ethics; Poverty and Poor; Wealth
Bibliography
Barton, J. Understanding Old Testament Ethics: Approaches and Evaluations. Westminster John Knox, 2003;
Brueggemann, W. The Prophetic Imagination. 2nd ed. Fortress, 2001; Carroll R., M. D. Amos—The Prophet and His Oracles: Research on the Book of Amos. Westminster John Knox, 2002; idem. “Seeking the Virtues among the Prophets: The Book of Amos as a Test Case.” ExAud 17 (2001): 77-96; Dempsey, C. Hope amid the Ruins: The Ethics of Israel’s Prophets. Chalice, 2000; Heschel, A. The Prophets. Harper & Row, 1962; Houston, W. Contending for Justice: Ideologies and Theologies of Social Justice in the Old Testament. Rev. ed. LHBOTS 428. T&T Clark, 2008; O’Brien, J. Challenging Prophetic Metaphor: Theology and Ideology in the Prophets. Westminster John Knox, 2008.
M. Daniel Carroll R. (Rodas)
Christian discipleship, peacemaking, community, integrity, and fidelity to Scripture have been at the core of Anabaptist ethics for the past five centuries.
Anabaptists emerged in the volatile context of early sixteenth-century Europe, becoming part of the Radical Reformation (the “left wing” of the Protestant Reformation). Of central importance to many early Anabaptist leaders were the autonomy of the church from the state in matters of worship and religious practice; the necessity for baptism into the church to be voluntary, based on an adult commitment to follow in the way of Christ; the separation of Christians from the “worldly” realm of politics; and, for most surviving groups of Anabaptists, rejection of “the sword.”
Anabaptists’ direct spiritual descendants—to-day’s Mennonites, Amish, and Hutterites, who number about 1.2 million around the world, with 60 percent of those in the southern hemisphere—are still shaped by their forebears’ seminal sixteenth-century convictions, though they embody these sometimes-contested Anabaptist ethical principles in different ways in their contemporary contexts.
The Sermon on the Mount and Christian Discipleship
Because of their profound concern for ethics, Anabaptists did not fully embrace Reformer Martin Luther’s call to salvation sola fidei (“by faith alone”), believing that such a view could degenerate into inattention to Christian living. Instead, they pointed toward a synergistic, salvific blending of divine action and human cooperation, perhaps more akin to a late-medieval Catholic view of God-infused transformation and active faith. True faith is lived out in life, they asserted, and all followers are called to follow Jesus Christ in all aspects of life. Early Dutch Anabaptist leader Menno Simons began all his treatises with an epigram from 1 Cor. 3:11: “For no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ.”
Such faithful following was possible, early Anabaptists believed, because of the transformative grace of God and a slightly more optimistic view of human nature than was true for some of their Protestant counterparts. Menno Simons, after whom Mennonites were named, argued for what might be called “complex innocence” in childhood, a recognition of the absence of both faithfulness and sinfulness in children, but an “innocence,” as he describes it, tempered with the acknowledgment of an inherited Adamic nature predisposed toward sinning.
Training children toward making commitments of faith and being faithful disciples was the everpresent goal of childhood nurture. Such a life of discipleship was impossible without experiencing a new birth, being converted and changed, and parents needed to guide their children toward such conversions and lifelong commitments. Voluntary baptism or ana-baptism (re-baptism, for those who had been baptized as infants in state churches) was construed as the beginning of the Christian life, not the end.
Sixteenth-century Anabaptists were known to live moral, upright lives, and they developed a reputation for being people of integrity and clean living. Often, early Anabaptist sermons included stories about the results of being good, with preachers telling virtuous-person narratives to inspire others also to be like Jesus. Such preaching was effective in the sixteenth-century context, where a large middle ground of people, whose intellectual leader was the Catholic humanist Erasmus, were attracted to this sort of moral preaching. Although Anabaptists were not self-consciously followers of Erasmus, many Anabaptist ideas and foundational scriptural texts can be found in his writings.
Although they did not formally recognize a “canon within the canon,” early Anabaptists clearly gave priority to the NT over the OT and saw Jesus as absolutely central to understanding the biblical text, the key through which believers could interpret both Testaments. Most formative for Anabaptist ethics were the Synoptic Gospels, which most closely narrated the life and teachings of Jesus. Within those three Gospel accounts, Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-7) and its Lukan counterpart (Luke 6) were most instructive, including Jesus’ words about loving enemies, turning the other cheek, and sacrificial service to others. The Matthean Beatitudes (Matt. 5:3-12) are repeatedly cited in Anabaptist sources, often in relation to suffering and persecution.
Because a small number of sixteenth-century Anabaptists were violent, and because the pacifist
Anabaptists refused to obey civil authorities on matters such as infant baptism, they were perceived as a threat to social order. Within months after their beginnings in 1525, their first martyrs were killed, initially at the hands of Catholic authorities and later by Protestants. Over the course of the next century, thousands of Anabaptists were killed, and those in the movement fled to other lands and rural areas safe from the avenging arm of religious and civil authorities.
Hundreds of these martyr stories are told in a collection titled Martyrs Mirror of the Defenseless Christians, a huge volume in continuous publication since 1660 and still a staple in many Anabaptist homes. The text begins with the deaths of Jesus and Stephen and then traces a continuous history of faithful martyrs through the Waldenses, Albigenses, and the stories of hundreds of the Anabaptist martyrs.
The most influential story from Martyrs Mirror is of Anabaptist Dirk Willems, who in 1569 had been imprisoned for allowing people to be rebaptized in his home. After escaping from prison, he made it across an icy pond to safety, but an Anabaptist catcher in hot pursuit broke through the ice to his almost certain death. Instead of running ahead to safety, Willems returned to the precarious ice and saved the life of his persecutor, who then promptly arrested him. Soon afterward, Willems was burned at the stake. For generations of Anabaptists, the story seared its way into their sense of faith and faithfulness: believers are called to service to others, even if that means risking their own lives.
Another key section of the Sermon on the Mount that infuses early Anabaptist thought is the reference to truth-telling, integrity, and “the oath” (Matt. 5:33-37). The Anabaptist position on truth-telling has been rather absolutist throughout most of the tradition’s history. In the 1527 Schleitheim Confession, the earliest Anabaptist confession of faith, one of the questions that early Anabaptists dealt with was swearing the oath. Although there were other problematic dimensions to swearing an oath (including swearing allegiance to a particular government), one of the problems with oath-swearing was that it suggested that the swearer was not being truthful all the time.
The Schleitheim Confession says, “Christ taught us similarly when He says: Your speech shall be yea, yea; and nay, nay; for what is more than that comes of evil.” The implication was that Christian believers are always to tell the truth, not
just when under an oath. For some contemporary Anabaptists, this is still an issue when they testify in court: if they are asked to swear, instead they simply “affirm” that they will tell the truth now—as always.
Early Anabaptists and their descendants also have drawn extensively on the Sermon on the Mount’s call for nonresistance and loving one’s enemies (see below). Often Anabaptists read such Christian teachings in a fairly straightforward, more or less literal manner, believing that such instructions should be embodied in their own lives. They understood the text simply to mean what it said, and they shaped their lives more around direct biblical teachings than complex theological expositions.
On Vocation
Pluralistic in both their sixteenth-century and twenty-first-century forms, early Anabaptists and their descendants have wrestled at length with the meaning of discipleship, the Christian obligation to engage or disengage “the world,” the commitment to practice nonviolence, and the Christian’s calling.
In the Christian church’s first several centuries, those who committed themselves to the Jesus movement recognized the import of that decision of faith and calling—the way in which being a disciple of a crucified Christ could shape the entirety of their lives. As small, often marginalized, and intermittently persecuted communities of believers, being committed to Christ and the church often meant opening themselves to transformation and service as well as making sacrifices, taking risks, and closing occupational or vocational doors.
The meaning of Christian discipleship and the stratification of ordinary Christians and church leaders both underwent profound transformation in the years after the emperor Constantine came into power in 311/312 and new converts flooded into the now favored Christian church. Leaders, monks, and nuns became “the religious,” those who had a sacred calling or vocation. Christian calling became truncated, referring largely to those who entered the priesthood or religious orders but generally devaluing the work of others outside those confines.
In the sixteenth century, Martin Luther rejected what he saw as a vocational double standard as well as his monastic vows, believing that true faith needed to be worked out in the complex and often difficult realities of life beyond monastery walls. He maintained that all stations in life in which it is possible to live honestly are divine vocations.
Although early Anabaptists generally appreciated Luther’s honoring of more than monastic and priestly callings, they were suspicious that the content of a Christian’s activity in a particular “station” or “office” seemed to come more from the “orders of creation” than from faith in Jesus. Tensions with civil authorities emerged over a range of issues, but particularly over the role of the Christian in governance.
Most Anabaptists were particularly critical of occupational roles that involved coercive force or violence, including any sort of political office; some were deeply suspicious of any work having to do with trade or commerce; others were worried even about the traditional assignment of special vocational status to “religious” occupations. The Anabaptists did not expect their convictions to be adopted by the whole society, but in the turmoil of the sixteenth century these radical practices and public pronouncements represented a threat to the stability of society.
Perspectives on the State
Building on the writings of Augustine as well as their contemporaries, most early Anabaptists agreed with Luther that the state was ordained to preserve order in a fallen world, adopting some version of a dualistic, two-kingdom understanding of the world. However, the surviving strains of Anabaptism parted ways with Luther on the issue of the Christian’s role in the two kingdoms. For Luther, Christians stood squarely in the midst of both kingdoms: in their private, personal lives, they were in the kingdom of God, and in their public lives they were in the earthly kingdom. People were essentially split down the middle in their loyalties: Christian love called them to act in both kingdoms, abiding by the ethic of each when working in that realm and not expecting to effect much change in the earthly kingdom.
For most of the Anabaptists, it was the world, not individuals, that was split: faithful Christians lived in the kingdom of God and abided only by its ethics, and others were in the earthly kingdom. The Anabaptists acknowledged that God had instituted civil government, and therefore it should be obeyed, but only up to the point where the state’s demands clearly contradicted God’s authority. The foundational framework for Christians’ relation to government was Acts 5:29 (obedience to God rather than human authorities) rather than the more socially conservative perspective of Rom. 13, which became the foundational passage for some other Protestant traditions.
Because of their understandings of the commandments of Christ, however, Anabaptists believed Christians could not kill, even when the state had legitimated killing in the cases of war and capital punishment. Therefore, although they believed that the state was divinely instituted, most Anabaptists said the true Christian could not participate in the government’s work, because the civil realm required the use of violence for maintaining order and was therefore “outside the perfection of Christ,” as the Schleitheim Confession says. Even Anabaptist leader Pilgram Marpeck, who served as a civil engineer, said, in effect, that one can be a Christian magistrate, but not for long; soon, one has to give up either the “Christian” or “magistrate” identity marker.
Commitments to Peace
Traditionally, the Anabaptists’ peace position has been rooted in the biblical portrayal of Jesus’ way of love and his willingness to suffer on the cross. Anabaptists generally have believed that Jesus’ demonstration of love in all relationships should be normative for his followers. Often in Anabaptist history the faithful response to violence has been characterized as “nonresistance,” a term derived from the Sermon on the Mount injunction to “resist not evil” (Matt. 5:39) but to turn the other cheek. For Mennonites, Hutterites, and Amish, nonresistance has been a way of being a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ, not a strategy for achieving peace.
Such a posture, espoused most articulately by Guy F. Hershberger in his mid-twentieth-century book War, Peace, and Nonresistance, was broader than simple conscientious objection or refusal to participate in warfare; nonresistance had implications for all dimensions of Christian life. Although many Anabaptists still use the language of “nonresistance,” in the past sixty years, influenced in part by the successful activist movements of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., Mennonites and other Anabaptist descendants have debated the appropriateness of nonviolent resistance, sociopolitical activism, justice making, and “responsibility” in the political arena.
Influenced in part by Mennonite theologian John H. Yoder and other Anabaptist leaders, many twentieth-century Mennonites began to question the traditional church/world dualism of their faith heritage. Beginning in the 1960s, the language of the “lordship of Christ” over all the world (not just the church) began to be used in Mennonite circles. In Yoder’s view, that theological shift justified and perhaps mandated a Mennonite “witness” to the state, asking the state to embody more fully the norms that Christ revealed, norms relevant for both individuals and institutions, including nations.
Others, such as Gordon Kaufman and J. Lawrence Burkholder, argued further for an Anabaptist embrace of “responsibility” as part of Christian discipleship, an ethic that could serve as a corrective to more naive forms of simply following Jesus in what is actually a complex, ethically ambiguous world. They and other Anabaptist thinkers in the last third of the twentieth century helped bring to the foreground Anabaptists’ obligation to seek justice as well as practice love. Anabaptist thinkers and practitioners since their time have been attentive to justice concerns, particularly in the area of restorative (rather than retributive) justice, with some additional addressing of distributive justice.
In Yoder’s classic Politics of Jesus, he argues that Jesus’ ethic is a relevant social strategy for contemporary Christians: believers should create distinct communities through which the gospel works to change other sociopolitical structures. Yoder argues that “the ministry and the claims of Jesus are best understood as presenting to hearers and readers not the avoidance of political options, but one particular social-political-ethical option” that “is of direct significance for social ethics” (Yoder 11). In that Yoderian model, which has been picked up by Methodist ethicist Stanley Hau-erwas and “baptist” James William McClendon, the church is called first “to be the church, not to change the world.” The belief is that by focusing on forming faithful communities of believers, Christians will be able to live authentically and thereby also have a secondary, collective influence on reforming society.
In this more engaged spirit, recent Anabaptists also have not been content only to maintain a negative attitude toward war. Especially in North America, many have felt a need to do some corresponding positive act through which they could assist their countries and the world. Mennonite historian James C. Juhnke has contended that in the United States, the Mennonite tragedy was not that they became Americans so slowly, but that “they so desperately wanted to be good American citizens and could not fulfill the requirements without violating their consciences or abandoning the tradition of their forebears” (Juhnke 156). Juhnke attributes to this tension “whatever was creative in the Mennonite expe-rience”—relief programs, development of positive alternatives to military service, and scattered criticism of American nationalism from a pacifist perspective.
In the contemporary context, Anabaptist concerns about warfare and violence have stimulated extensive development of peace studies and conflict-transformation programs in Anabaptist-related colleges and universities and have birthed creative peacemaking efforts in Mennonite denominational and interdenominational agencies, such as the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC). An active peacemaking group, Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) emerged in the 1980s with the support of the three historic peace churches. In hot spots such as Haiti, Hebron, Afghanistan, and Iraq, CPT sends small teams of workers to stand between hostile groups, document and report atrocities and violations of human rights, and actively intervene in violent situations.
How these various efforts at active peacemaking and social and political engagement will reshape contemporary Anabaptist ethics remains to be seen. Some notion of church/world separation likely will be maintained as Anabaptists sort through a number of possible models for embodying the faithful, peaceful way of Christ in the twenty-first century. It is quite possible that as Anabaptist themes are embraced by broader Christian thinkers and communities such as Stanley Hauer-was, Sojourners, and the “emergent church” movement, these people, publications, and bodies of believers will carry forward important Anabaptist convictions as much as or more so than do many of the ethnic institutional Anabaptist churches.
See also Beatitudes; Government; Just-Peacemaking Theory; Pacifism; Peace; Sermon on the Mount; Truthfulness, Truth-Telling; Violence
Bibliography
Bender, H. “The Anabaptist Vision.” MQR 18 (1944): 67—88; Burkholder, J. The Problem of Social Responsibility from the Perspective of the Mennonite Church. Institute of Mennonite Studies, 1989 [1958]; Burkholder, J., and C. Re-dekop, eds. Kingdom, Cross, and Community: Essays on Mennonite Themes in Honor of Guy F Hershberger. Herald Press, 1976; Driedger, L., and D. Kraybill. Mennonite Peacemaking: From Quietism to Activism. Herald Press, 1994; Friesen, D. Artists, Citizens, Philosophers: Seeking the Peace of the City; An Anabaptist Theology of Culture. Herald Press, 2000; Graber Miller, K. Wise as Serpents, Innocent as Doves: American Mennonites Engage Washington. University of Tennessee Press, 1996; Grimsrud, T. Embodying the Way of Jesus: Anabaptist Convictions for the Twenty-First Century. Wipf & Stock, 2007; Hershberger, G. War, Peace, and Nonresistance. Herald Press, 1944; Huebner, H. Echoes of the Word: Theological Ethics as Rhetorical Practice. Pandora, 2005; Juhnke, J. Vision, Doctrine, War: Mennonite Identity and Organization in America, 1890—1930. Herald Press, 1989; Klaassen, W, ed. Anabaptism in Outline: Selected Primary Sources. Herald Press, 1981; Koontz, G., and E. Yoder, eds. Peace Theology and Violence against Women. Institute of Mennonite Studies, 1992; Van Braght, T. The Bloody Theater or Martyrs Mirror of the Defenseless Christians. Herald Press, 1950; Wenger, J., ed. The Complete Writings of Menno Simons. Mennonite Publishing House, 1956; Yoder, J. The Politics of Jesus: Vicit Agnus Noster. 2nd ed. Eerdmans, 1994.
Keith Graber Miller
Anger is a passionate response to real or perceived insult or injury, to oneself or another. Christianity has been decidedly ambivalent about anger. Since the time of Gregory the Great, anger has been enumerated among the seven capital vices (better known as the seven deadly sins); however, Thomas Aquinas, whose explication of the seven deadly sins is generally regarded as exhaustive, allows that although anger carries with it the potential to do mortal harm it is not always a sin, for anger is among the passions with which people are created, and hence is not fundamentally evil. Thus, Thomas allows for the possibility of a righteous anger, properly constrained by right reason, which he says is praiseworthy. On this point he goes so far as to quote Chrysostom’s assertion that in certain circumstances the failure to become angry is a sin (ST II-I, qq. 46-48).
The Pentateuch frequently portrays God as “angry” toward particular persons or groups of people. When God’s anger is directed toward Israel, it usually is on account of some form of idolatry. Perhaps the paradigmatic example of this is found in the story of the golden calf in Exod. 32, where Moses both intercedes for Israel, asking an angry God not to destroy them for their idolatry, and then serves as the agent and mediator of God’s anger, leading a retributive slaughter against the worst of the idolaters. Even in the Pentateuch, however, God’s anger usually is depicted as diminutive in comparison to God’s mercy. More, God’s anger and mercy often are juxtaposed in the writings of the prophets, who cite God’s anger as the cause of the misfortunes of Israel and Judah but also offer assurances that God’s anger is temporary and of little consequence in comparison to God’s steadfast love, which, the prophets assure, will soon be manifest in the restoration of God’s people.
The psalms display something of this tension with respect to God’s anger. On the one hand, the psalmist frequently asks God to remember his covenant and withdraw his anger, either from the psalmist personally or from the people of Israel. These psalms often conclude with an expression of confidence that God, because of his mercy, will eventually restore them to their rightful place as the people of God. On the other hand, the psalms of imprecation frequently evoke God’s anger toward the psalmist’s enemies, advocating their destruction in sometimes shocking terms.
The NT authors take a more cautionary approach to the matter of anger. They speak of God’s anger, but they do so sparingly in comparison to their OT counterparts. Jesus is portrayed as becoming angry, most often toward his opponents among the scribes and Pharisees and the temple elites in Jerusalem. When addressing anger in general terms, however, NT texts are decidedly more circumspect. Anger is potentially a deterrent to faithful Christian life; it is contrary to the virtue of love (1 Cor. 13:5), it subverts faithful discipleship (Eph. 4:25-26, 31-32; Col. 3:7-9; Jas. 1:19-21), and divides the community and renders ineffective its witness to the gospel (2 Cor. 12:19-21). In several places the NT (following the wisdom of the OT) admonishes Christians to be “slow to anger.” Christians tempted to anger would do well to heed the advice of the author of Ephesians, who says, “Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil” (Eph. 4:26).
See also Patience Bibliography
Fairlie, H. The Seven Deadly Sins Today. University of Notre Dame Press, 1979; Gaylin, W. The Rage Within: Anger in Modern Life. Simon & Schuster, 1984; Thurman, R. Anger: The Seven Deadly Sins. Oxford University Press, 2005.
Joel James Shuman