Loving one’s neighbor is central to Jewish and Christian ethics. The context within which this command comes is the Holiness Code of Leviticus: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord” (19:18). Although the importance that Christians place on this injunction is clear, the exact meaning of the text is less so. A proper theological and ethical interpretation of the command to love one’s “neighbor” as oneself must deal with three questions: What does “neighbor” mean? What does it mean to “love” the neighbor? And what does it mean to love the neighbor “as yourself”?
Attending to Scripture and Early Jewish Conceptions
Neighbor. In the OT, the Hebrew word often translated as “neighbor” (rea) primarily involves some form of closeness, whether physical (Exod. 11:2; Judg. 6:29), social (Prov. 19:6), or ethnic (Exod. 2:13). There is good reason to understand rea' in Lev. 19:18 as pertaining to the neighbor who is related by virtue of the covenant. Although this would naturally focus the view on loving (primarily) other Israelites, the discussion just prior to 19:18 involves more specifically care for the “poor and the alien” (19:10), as well as the deaf and the blind (19:14).
Even though Lev. 19:18 centers on loving within the community (and addressed outsiders only insofar as treatment of resident aliens was fair), the meaning of neighbor as kin (see “kin” in 19:17) was galvanized and treated by some as a command to avoid improper associations in early Judaism. Ben Sira observes that it is natural and proper to associate with one’s own kind, to love your own “neighbor” (Sir. 13:15 [Gk. plesion]). Allying with the wrong kinds of people is an abomination. Jesus criticizes the interpretation of Lev. 19:18 that exaggerates this bifurcation by seeing love of neighbor as promoting hatred toward enemies (Matt. 5:43). Enemies should be loved and treated as objects of prayer. Indeed, in Luke 10:25-37 Jesus turns a discussion about how to identify a neighbor into one about how to be a loving neighbor—that is, showing mercy and compassion to anyone in need, despite social and ethnic distance.
Love. In the Levitical context, loving is not simply an emotion; rather, it is characterized by doing the opposite of the preceding prohibitions in Lev. 19:10-17: looking after the needy, showing generosity toward laborers, having compassion for people with disabilities. The nature of these prohibitions reflects a working out of the Ten Commandments as a model for covenantal obedience with regard to the treatment of others. In the NT, Jesus commanded his disciples to love one another as he demonstrated love for them (John 15:12). The kind of love that Jesus gave is understood as a commitment to the other that may even lead to death (John 10:15; Eph. 5:2; 1 John 3:14).
Paul encouraged pleasing one’s neighbors to strengthen them and to tolerate any inconveniences (Rom. 15:1-3). More radically, he described neighbor love as a disposition similar to being a slave to another person (Gal. 5:13-14). Similarly, James calls Lev. 19:18 the “royal law” that particularly discourages prejudice against the poor (Jas. 2:1-13).
As yourself. The part of Lev. 19:18 that adds “as yourself” to the idea of loving the neighbor is open to several interpretations, but the most likely one has two aspects. The first involves seeking the highest good for the other as one naturally pursues what is best for oneself. The second is that Israelites should treat (and love) one another in the same way that they expect to be treated as ones who were equally made in God’s likeness and who were equally freed by God from Egypt (see Sipre Qodashim 4.12).
In the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus encourages selfdenial as a prerequisite for obedience (Matt. 16:24; Mark 8:34; Luke 9:23). Jesus is not promoting self-neglect here, though, but rather prioritizing the needs of others at a great cost to self. This is similarly expressed by Paul when he discourages the Philippians from working for selfish gain or pride (Phil. 2:3-4).
Ethical Implications
Two elements of the foregoing discussion are especially relevant to modern ethical discussions, one individual and one political. As for the former, picking up again the discussion of the role of “self” in loving the neighbor, it is commonly debated what relationship “I” have to “you” or “them.” Garth Hallett outlines and assesses six models of Christ’s “neighbor-love”: self-preference, parity (i.e., equal benefit), other-preference, self-subordination, selfforgetfulness, and self-denial. Of these, he reasons that the most faithful model to the Christian tradition is self-subordination, which does not take the route of the last two models, which refrain from seeking one’s own benefit at all. Instead, self-subordination allows for the consideration of one’s own benefit, but it must never be to the disadvantage of another. The personal good can be sought out if that benefit could not be passed on to another or if another would not be limited or adversely affected in any way because of it. If one is inclined to agree with Hallett, Lev. 19:18 resists the idea that one loves the other and cannot seek out a happy life for oneself. This is particularly relevant to those who promote an ethic in which personal mistreatment and abuse should not be opposed.
The political aspect of neighbor love involves the problem of violence and warfare. Although a number of scriptural texts and theological issues are often brought to bear on this subject, it at least involves the basic concerns of love for neighbor and love for enemies. Does love for enemies exclude the physical resistance of them for a just cause? Does love for neighbor as a scriptural ideal mark out the church as a peaceable community that imitates Christ’s humility and his refusal to act according to the vengeful and retributive nature of the fallen world? Although the basic moral thrust of the biblical idea of neighbor love is perspicuous, its application on this issue is more opaque.
Conclusion
To borrow and rework a well-known metaphor, the command “Love thy neighbor” is like an ocean: shallow enough that almost anyone can grasp its basic meaning, yet deep enough that its moral implications and applications are nearly bottomless. It stands within the heritage of Christianity as not just one of the two great love commandments affirmed by Jesus, but the necessary complement to the ideal of loving God. However one interprets this command to love of neighbor ethically, the struggle undoubtedly is over the center of the moral vision of the Bible itself.
See also Covenantal Ethics; Cruciformity; Enemy, Enemy Love; Golden Rule; Love, Love Command; SelfDenial; Self-Love
Bibliography
Cahill, L. Love Your Enemies: Discipleship, Pacifism, and Just War Theory. Fortress, 1994. Furnish, V. The Love Command in the New Testament. Abingdon, 1972; Goldingay, J. Israel’s Life. InterVarsity, 2009; Gorman, M. Cruciformity: Paul’s Narrative Spirituality of the Cross. Eerdmans, 2001; Hallett, G. Christian Neighbor-Love: An Assessment of Six Rival Versions. Georgetown University Press, 1989; Hays, R. The Moral Vision of the New Testament: Community, Cross, and New Creation; A Contemporary Introduction to New Testament Ethics. HarperSanFrancisco, 1996; Milgrom, J. Leviticus 17—22. AB 3A. Doubleday, 2000; Perkins, P Love Commands in the New Testament. Paulist Press, 1982; Swartley, W., ed. The Love of Enemy and Nonretaliation in the New Testament. Westminster John Knox, 1992.
Nijay K. Gupta
New Testament Ethics as a Discipline Since the formation of a Christian Bible in the third and fourth centuries, preachers and teachers of the church have appealed to the Bible’s authority in moral instruction and as a basis for Christian ethics. Only in the past 150 years or so has “New Testament ethics” been a subject distinct from theology or separate from the task of giving practical instruction to the church. Prior to the nineteenth century, attention to biblical teaching on moral subjects was found in works of theology, in separate treatises on ethics, and in a wide variety of other churchly writings devoted to instructing the faithful, but separate works on the subject of NT ethics scarcely existed. Certainly this was the case if NT ethics denotes a historical treatment of earliest Christian morality in its original environment as reflected by the writings that came to make up the NT. In a book published in 1899 on NT ethics, Hermann Jacoby remarked that he knew of only one antecedent to his historical approach to the subject, Albrecht Thoma’s Geschichte der christlichen Sit-tenlehre in der Zeit des Neuen Testaments (1879). Thoma himself was aware of no prior study of first-century Christian morality in which the author treated the subject using modern historical methods. Perhaps these authors were unaware of George Matheson’s Landmarks of New Testament Morality (1888) and like works or did not regard them as sufficiently historical in the rigorous “scientific” sense.
Some who study NT ethics use the terms ethics and morality as rough equivalents; others distinguish the two by defining ethics as rational reflection on moral questions. Wayne Meeks finds it helpful to conceive “morality” as “a pervasive but, often, only partly conscious set of value-laden dispositions, inclinations, attitudes, and habits,” and “ethics” as a “reflective, second-order activity, morality made conscious” (Meeks, Origins, 4). A number of scholars have stressed that the NT contains little that can be described as “ethics” in this more precise sense, although NT morality can be analyzed for its underlying logic. For example, by attending to the often unspoken or only briefly expressed rationales that inform moral exhortation in the NT, one can work out something of the implicit ethics of the NT.
Although the word ethics is a plural noun, it is often used as a singular concept. As a result, it is not immediately clear whether “New Testament ethics” is a plural or singular subject. Today, most scholars recognize that the NT does not express a single “ethic,” and studies of NT ethics typically are careful to describe the diversity of moral teachings and assumptions in the NT writings. Some (but not all) studies also make it a point to synthesize this diversity into some sort of unity.
Interest in a synthesis almost invariably involves the assumption that the use of the NT for Christian ethics is compromised if its various writings present no more than a jumble of diverse and even contradictory views. It is generally agreed, however, that unity is not immediately evident and needs to be demonstrated (or even “constructed”), and that the NT cannot be treated as a “rule book” with immediate applicability to contemporary moral questions. Conscientious use of the NT requires due attention to the variety of views and perspectives in its writings and the historical and cultural distance between its times and later times. That distance calls for some sort of hermeneutical translation or mediation.
This way of conceiving NT ethics reflects the highly influential biblical theology program of Johann Philipp Gabler (1753-1826), which continues to shape the way Christian scholars think about their role as academics. Gabler’s program consisted of three basic parts: (1) historically sensitive interpretation of the various books of the Bible, treating each in its own terms; (2) synthesis of the results of this historical descriptive work, with the aid of general concepts; and (3) theological construction for contemporary life, carried out primarily by theologians who make use of the syntheses provided them by biblical scholars. The staying power of Gabler’s program is especially evident in Richard Hays’s Moral Vision of the New Testament, in which he proposes and carries out four tasks: the descriptive, the synthetic, the hermeneutical, and the pragmatic. Hays assumes the normative concept of “New Testament,” seeks to show that there is a unity (with diversity and variety) in the NT’s “moral vision,” and engages himself in the constructive task (hermeneutical and pragmatic) of developing normative proposals for the contemporary church.
Not all treatments of the subject attempt to synthesize the ethical views of the NT, much less to tackle the question of how to use the NT in contemporary moral debate. A common approach is to confine the task to describing the moral instruction and assumptions of individual writings or “authorships” (Mark, Luke-Acts, the Pauline corpus, the Johannine writings, etc.). This approach, exemplified by Frank Matera’s New Testament Ethics, may be termed narrowly historical because it does not attend to questions inherent to the use of the “New Testament” as Scripture. This is not to say that those who take a more narrowly historical approach to NT ethics are uninterested in the practical use of the NT, much less that they do not regard these writings as Scripture. Nevertheless, the narrowly historical approach reflects a certain ambiguity about whether the subject of NT ethics is the NT writings interpreted on their own terms and in their original historical settings before there was a NT, or whether “New Testament ethics” is an inherently theological and confessional concept that cannot be treated without certain assumptions about the nature of Scripture. The observation of this ambiguity becomes important when we consider that the moral teachings of the NT writings are also studied historically by those interested in giving an account of early Christian morality in general. Wayne Meeks uses the NT writings in this way in The Origins of Christian Morality and The Moral World of the First Christians. If one were to abstract from these books only what Meeks says about the NT writings, would that abstraction amount to “New Testament ethics”? Or is “New Testament ethics” something different, a subcategory of a theological discipline, analogous to the way in which Gabler conceived biblical theology as a subcategory of a broader theological task?
Another ambiguity touching the concept of NT ethics is whether it properly includes the ethics of the historical Jesus as distinct from the ethics of Jesus in the Gospels. Modern critical study of the NT distinguishes the historical Jesus from later portraits of him. Should descriptions of NT ethics include reconstructions of the ethics of the historical Jesus? In fact, the ethics of Jesus is included as a separate subject in books on NT ethics by Allen Verhey, Wolfgang Schrage, Rudolf Schnackenburg, and Russell Pregeant. But others (e.g., Hays, Matera) restrict themselves to the NT writings without offering separate reconstructions of Jesus’ ethics. Hays explains that his book is not about the historical development of early Christian ethics but rather concerns the question of how the NT witnesses should shape the life of the church (Hays 158-59).
Hays’s position is not the only one available to those who approach NT ethics as a theological discipline in service of Christian ethics. One can make a theological case that the historical Jesus is the proper presupposition of NT ethics and hence that the study of NT ethics should begin with the historical Jesus. This way of putting the matter recalls a famous mid-twentieth-century debate between Rudolf Bultmann and his student Ernst Kasemann. Bultmann argued that the historical Jesus is the presupposition of NT theology but not himself (his activity and teachings as reconstructed by scholarship) part of that theology (or of Christian theology generally). Kasemann insisted that the church has a legitimate interest in discovering the historical relation between the Jesus of history and the Jesus of the NT (the “Jesus of faith”), even if it would be wrong to make a reconstructed historical Jesus not only primary but also superior in authority to the Jesus of the NT. Certainly, there is no contradiction in the idea that both Jesus himself and the writings of the NT are authoritative for the church and should be taken together as foundations for Christian ethics, however their relationship is conceived and however difficult it may be to reconstruct the historical Jesus.
Those who are explicit about their theological assumptions and commitments sometimes explain why they begin with Jesus (e.g., Verhey), but some books on NT ethics that make the historical Jesus their first topic proceed as if no explanation were needed. The reason, no doubt, is that the history of NT scholarship, with its momentous turn to rigorous historical methods in the nineteenth century, led to a conception of the field of NT study as including three subjects: the historical Jesus and his mission, the formation of the early church (including the oral tradition), and the NT writings. Hence, Rudolf Schnackenburg’s Moral Teaching of the New Testament (1962) begins with Jesus, moves to the early church, and then examines the individual NT authors.
Method in New Testament Moral Reasoning
Orientation to example. In deliberative rhetoric, where the aim is to persuade the audience to adopt a certain course of action, proof from example (Gk. paradeigma, Lat. exemplum) is a typical form of argument. Paul’s Letters often move into a deliberative mode; hence, it is not surprising that his exhortation sometimes includes examples and calls for “imitation” (mimesis). Paul gives brief narrative summaries of Christ’s exemplary action and presses believers to behave in similar ways (Rom. 15:3; 2 Cor. 8:9; Phil. 2:6-11). He also urges his churches to imitate him (1 Cor. 4:16-17; 10:31-11:1; Gal. 4:12; Phil. 3:17; 4:9; 1 Thess. 1:56) and regards others as worthy of imitation as well (2 Cor. 8:1-6; 1 Thess. 2:14; cf. 1 Tim. 4:12). The unity of word and example is evident in his admonition “Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me” (Phil. 4:9). Or as he puts it in 1 Cor. 4:17, Timothy will “remind you of my ways in Christ Jesus, as I teach them everywhere in every church.” The Greek term for “ways” (hodoi) in this passage reflects the Hebrew sense of halakah, a word that means “walking” and was used to express teaching about right living. This idea is also found in 2 Pet. 2:21 (“way of righteousness”). In other places Paul uses a Greek word for “walking” (peripateo) to convey an ethical meaning: “walking in love” (Rom. 14:15); “walk in newness of life” (Rom. 6:4; see also Rom. 13:13; 2 Cor. 12:18; 1 Thess. 2:12). In the same vein, Acts refers to the gospel as “the Way,” which shows how closely the message was associated with a way of living (Acts 9:2; 19:9, 23; 22:4; cf. Matt. 21:32; Mark 12:14). These terms for “walking” and “way” can be used of right ways of living and thinking (as in nearly all the preceding examples) or wrong ways (as in Acts 14:16; 1 Cor. 3:3; Phil. 3:18; Jas. 5:20).
Early Christians would have assumed that one purpose of the Gospels, as history or biography, was to display Jesus as a model to be imitated. This ancient way of understanding the Gospels is evident in Justin Martyr’s description of early Christian worship. After lengthy reading of the “memoirs of the apostles” (Gospels) or the prophets, Justin says, the president of the church gets up and urges the people to imitate the good things that they have heard (1 Apol. 66.3-4). The unity of a teacher’s word and example was axiomatic for ancient Mediterraneans (see, e.g., Quintilian, Inst. 2.2.8). Readers—hearers—of the Gospels would have taken for granted that Jesus teaches them through his word and his example. The unity of these two is especially evident in the Gospel of Matthew, where key terms help the reader see the correlations between Jesus’ teachings and his actions (cf., e.g., 5:5 with 11:29; 5:7 with 9:27; 5:39 with 26:52). Regarded in this light, the closing command to make disciples of all peoples, “teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you” (28:20), means to instruct others in Jesus’ commandments as preserved in his teachings and exemplified in the stories about what he did and how he lived.
Orientation to the particular. In the Greco-Roman philosophical tradition, moral analysis focuses on the nature of things and particularly “the good” inherent to the nature of the human being. That “good” is rationally determined, with the help of experience and observation. The good in this general and abstract sense is not the focal point of moral understanding for the NT writers. In only one place is the question of “the good” posed in anything like a general way: in the Matthean version of the story of the rich young man, Jesus responds, “Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus goes on to give not an abstract definition of the good but rather an admonition that the man should keep the commandments, sell his possessions, and follow Jesus (Matt. 19:16-22). Is this admonition meant for everyone or only for this man or those like him? However we answer this question, it is evident that Jesus’ response speaks in the concrete and particular.
It is the nature of the example to be concrete and particular, but often the example cannot be imitated unless one first grasps its principle(s). This suggests that the implicit principles of moral examples in the NT should be regarded as primary material for constructing NT ethics. We are encouraged in this direction by the fact that examples often are given to illustrate or explain concepts. The parable of the merciful Samaritan is offered to define the concept of “love” as an obligation to the “neighbor” (Luke 10:25-37). The “grace” (kindness, generosity) of “our Lord Jesus” is explained through a description of how he became “poor” in order to make others “rich” (2 Cor. 8:9). In Heb. 11, “faith” (as a moral-spiritual disposition) is defined with a series of examples from Scripture. In Phil. 2 Paul offers the example of Jesus to sum up a set of qualities that the Philippians are to embody with one another: love, humility, unity, other-centeredness. Modern scholars have characterized Jesus’ exemplary behavior in the Gospels (notably in his miracle-working and table fellowship) as “boundary-crossing” and animated by a special concern for the “marginalized.” These concepts represent modern conceptual distillations of what are seen as implicit principles governing Jesus’ mission.
Modes of moral reasoning. The NT writings contain moral exhortation but rarely take up ethical issues in reflective ways or offer comments about method in moral reasoning. Stoic philosophers, for example, were interested in debating the precise role to be given to precepts in moral thinking and exhortation (see, e.g., Seneca, Ep. 94). Nothing like this is found in the NT. The most sustained moral instruction appears in the Sermon on the Mount, but without articulation of informing assumptions. Only in Paul do we meet moral arguments where rationales are given, in his treatment of various topics in 1 Corinthians and in his counsel in Rom. 14-15 about issues between the “weak” and the “strong.”
Using modern categories, we can ask whether the reasoning in and behind the NT conceptions of moral decision-making is primarily consequen-tialist (judgments in concrete cases based on best outcomes as evaluated by normative principles), deontological (judgments governed by moral rules without regard for consequences), virtue-based (judgments governed by good character), or some combination of these. But we get an idea of the methods of NT writers only by observing what they do. One finds teaching that seems to reflect a consequentialist approach in 1 Cor. 7:1-16 (advice about whether to marry or separate based on outcomes) and instruction that appears to assume a deontological approach in Mark 10:2-9 (a rule about divorce). Exhortations to imitate exemplars arguably belong to a virtue-based approach, especially since the NT writers take for granted that exemplars are found not only in Scripture but also in life as formative influences in community. It probably is fair to say that all the NT writers took for granted that moral formation depends on imitating good examples in Scripture and in life. It is also clear that disagreements about proper behavior were debated with recourse to a variety of modes of argument: appeal to authority (personal authority, rules, the Mosaic law, common opinion), appeal to character, and appeal to principles (including consequences judged by principles).
The NT writers expected the near end of the world, and most if not all believed that the new age (new creation, kingdom of God) had already begun in provisional ways. Animated by this eschatological consciousness, some early church leaders sought to live out in the present the ideals that they ascribed to the dawning future age. Paul was one such leader, although he also sought to restrain the tendencies of those (such as certain members of the churches at Corinth) who wished to live as if the new creation had already fully arrived. His declaration that in Christ the distinctions between J ew and Greek, male and female, slave and free come to an end (Gal. 3:28) seems to have influenced his understanding of the social order that ought to prevail in the church, making him something of an egalitarian. But he was a consistent champion of full equality in the present when it came to only one of these social relations: the equality of gentile with Jew. Moreover, in the NT generally, eschatological references in moral exhortation are almost always threats of future punishment or promises of reward; only occasionally do they entail explicit appeals to new norms based on a vision of the future kingdom or new creation.
Integrated conceptions of the New Testament’s moral vision. Modern interpreters interested in offering integrated descriptions of NT ethics have tended to focus on combining two main voices: Jesus and Paul. “Jesus” means the historical Jesus, the Jesus of the Synoptic Gospels, the Jesus of all four Gospels, or a portrait drawn on historical-Jesus research and the Gospels. “Paul” is usually restricted to the undisputed letters. Other parts of the NT are incorporated into the synthesis with various degrees of emphasis and attention to how well they fit into an ethical vision compounded of Jesus and Paul.
Integrating Jesus and Paul usually entails correlating Jesus’ message of the kingdom (“reign”) of God with Paul’s understanding that a “new creation” has dawned in Christ. The Gospels frame Jesus’ teaching by ordering it within the story of his journey to death and resurrection. Paul’s Jesus, who willingly gave up his life out of obedience to God and merciful concern for others, seems to jibe with the other-centered Jesus of the Gospels, who embodies in action the values of the kingdom and who dies for what he said and how he lived. “Love” is the primary ethical principle for the Jesus of the Gospels and the Jesus of Paul, a love that Paul and the Gospels define as self-sacrificial and directed toward all human beings. Debate continues regarding the sense in which love is a primary moral norm in the NT and how far each writing or author is committed to an ethic based on love.
See also Consequentialism; Deontological Theories of Ethics; Imitation of Jesus; Kingdom of God; Moral Formation; Virtue Ethics
Bibliography
Burridge, R. Imitating Jesus: An Inclusive Approach to New Testament Ethics. Eerdmans, 2007; Hays, R. The Moral Vision of the New Testament: Community, Cross, New Creation; A Contemporary Introduction to New
Testament Ethics. HarperSanFrancisco, 1996; Keck, L. “Rethinking ‘New Testament Ethics.’ ” JBL 115 (1996): 3—16; Matera, F. New Testament Ethics. Westminster John Knox, 1996; Meeks, W. The Moral World of the First Christians. Westminster, 1986; idem. The Origins of Christian Morality: The First Two Centuries. Yale University Press, 1993; Pregeant, R. Knowing Truth, Doing Good: Engaging New Testament Ethics. Fortress, 2008; Schnackenburg, R. The Moral Teaching of the New Testament. Trans. J. Holland-Smith and W O’Hara. Herder, 1965 [1962]; Schrage, W The Ethics of the New Testament. Trans. D. Green. Fortress, 1988 [1982]; Verhey, A. The Great Reversal: Ethics and the New Testament. Eerdmans, 1984.
Charles H. Cosgrove
Nihilism is an epistemological assertion with ontological and ethical implications. Nothing of significance can be known. Existence has no discernible objective purpose or telos and, as differentiated from existentialism, can have no real subjective purpose either. Essentially, nihilism is intellectually generated anomie. To make any claim about what is right or wrong, good or bad, is utterly pointless.
Nihilist-like arguments have been made since antiquity (e.g., Gorgias, Pyrrho, arguably Nagar-juna), but it was not until after the Enlightenment that the position gained cultural prominence in the West, growing out of the epistemological skepticism of Hume and others and in reaction to romanticism, traditional Christianity, and the rise of the middle class. The term nihilism first came to prominence following its use by Ivan Turgenev in Fathers and Sons (1862). Nihilist concepts often have been presented at the boundary of philosophy and literature.
S0ren Kierkegaard describes the aesthete as one who lives a shallow life, focusing on the trivial to numb the existential pain of meaninglessness and despair. Such a person is a practical nihilist. Eventually, an attempt to live the ethical life may follow, yet even that will end in failure, and then three options are presented: accept actual nihilism, kill oneself, or take the leap of faith.
In Notes from Underground, Fyodor Dostoevsky portrays a man who despises the inability of others to recognize that their lives are as pointless as his own, which ironically initially provides him some satisfaction. He obtains temporary pleasures in sensation, seeks prestige by not moving out of the way of others on a sidewalk, and attempts a humane relationship, finally concluding that neither a loving relationship nor dominating another can provide purpose or satisfaction. The story ends with the man observing himself, taking notes about his meaninglessness, as he spirals further down into nihilism, concluding that his observing, his note-taking, and his life are nothing.
Friedrich Nietzsche used a provocative metaphoric writing style and aggressive denunciation of opponents to establish a nihilist-like position, but as “life-affirming” for those willing to be defiant in the face of eternal meaninglessness. Tragic reality can be overcome through personal will to power by the Ubermensch, rejection of slave status (especially as manifest in the slave religion of Christianity), and resigned recognition of the endless cycle of eternal return.
The character Kurtz in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, having sought satisfaction in the extreme violence of the ivory trade, finally becomes a charismatic megalomaniac attempting to rule by his own standards of morality—a mixture of Kierkegaard’s ethical stage and Nietzsche’s Uber-mensch or perhaps Dostoevsky’s Underground Man but with power. Eventually, he concludes that even control of others is pointless, since superiority makes no sense if there is no way to determine the basis of desire, righteousness, or despicability. Choosing between ever-deepening melancholia and what is essentially an anomic suicide, the character’s life ends. The juxtaposed figure in the story, Marlow, goes through a similar process, concluding finally to take a leap of faith, not toward the Christian God, but to what appears to be Westernized Buddhism.
As in the past, contemporary expressions of nihilism are more often found in the visual arts, music, and literature than in formal philosophy and, as in the past, often marked by a tone of mockery of those who do “believe” or cynicism about human relationships. In the visual arts, early twentieth-century Dada was self-described as “anti-art,” and more recent efforts using mundane, vulgar, or surreal representations portray all images as misrepresentations and meaningless. The lyrical claims in some contemporary music and non sequitur dialogue in absurdist drama offer a deconstructionism that logically concludes in nihilism, in deconstruction deconstructed.
In ancient Israel, nihilist-like thought had no significant place, given the strong emphasis on an intervening and caring Deity. Ecclesiastes hints at some nihilistic concepts but concludes with resigned affirmation of God. Psalms 14 and 53 indicate that although some believe that “there is no God,” they should be dismissed as “fools” who will finally find themselves filled with dread, or anomic despair.
James R. Thobaben
Moral norms are standards by which we measure conduct. Modern moral theories have attempted to determine norms by the rational consistency of an action in itself (sometimes called “deontology”) or by a calculation of the various consequences of an action (utilitarianism or consequentialism). Both sets of theories have set out to achieve a certainty of norms that is analogous to mathematics and the natural sciences. Ironically, the failure to meet these standards of disinterested objectivity has contributed to moral relativism, the view that all “norms” serve cultural, class, or individual interests. The biblical approach is quite different. In Scripture, the final measure and norm of human life is a personal and self-giving (“interested”) God.
Human beings are made in the image of God (Gen. 1:27). With God as the measure of the image, the temptation of Eden carries a bit of irony: “When you eat of [the fruit of the tree] your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen. 3:5). The sin of Adam and Eve can be seen as an attempt to be what they are created to be: “like God.” But they are tempted to fulfill the image in the wrong way: by making and being the measure (self-making) rather than being the representative and image of God. At Sinai, God calls Israel to be a “kingdom of priests, a holy nation” (Exod. 19:6). The call is to be set apart by God and to live in a way that is faithful to God—that is, faithful to the divine measure, to be holy as God is holy (Lev. 11:44; 19:2; 20:7, 26). In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus revitalizes this call to holiness (Matt. 5:48) to be the salt of the earth, the city on the hill, and a light for others (Matt. 5:13-16).
The desire to have a king in Israel, to be like the nations, is interpreted as a threat to the faith of the people in the kingship of God (1 Sam. 8:1-9). When Saul is anointed to be Israel’s first king, the prophet Samuel warns the people that their destiny as a nation and the fate of their kings will hinge on their vocation as a people. The king and all of Israel are bound to the commands of God (1 Sam. 12:13-15). The prophetic witness in Israel is based on this covenant and calling. The imperative for Israel is to walk in God’s ways and keep God’s commands (1 Kgs. 2:4). David repents when Nathan pronounces judgment on his sins. His adultery (with Bathsheba) and murder (of Uriah) are likened to a rich man stealing from the poor. He has scorned the word of the Lord (2 Sam. 12:9, 14). Here we find a web of prophetic denunciations: unfaithfulness to God—rejecting the commands, abusing the poor, and committing acts of false worship (Jer. 7:5-11; Amos 2:4-8; Mic. 6:3-8). Alternatively, the prophetic message of hope proclaims the faithfulness of Israel and the restoration of its vocation as a people: the lowly will be lifted up, the land will be free of oppression and injustice, the covenant with God will be renewed, the people will worship the Lord in truth, and foreigners will come to the Lord (Isa. 54-56). God will be proclaimed as king and, at last, the ruler of all life (Isa. 52:7).
In the NT, the prophetic promises and Israel’s vocation are found in Jesus. Jesus is the righteousness of God and the faithfulness of Israel (Matt. 3:11-4:11). Paul proclaims that new life is offered through the dying and rising of Christ: “He died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them. . . . So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us” (2 Cor. 5:15, 20). Jesus gathers and restores the people: in lifting up the lowly (Luke 4:16-21); in the calling and sending out of disciples (Mark 1:16-20; 6:7-13, 30-32); in eating with sinners and Pharisees (Luke 7:36-50); in healing and restoring the lost to common life (Matt. 8:1-4; Luke 19:1-10); in showing a new way of reconciliation and peace (Matt. 5-7); and, of course, in the cross and resurrection, which orders all things to God (Phil. 2:6-11). In short, Jesus is Lord. Therefore, he is worshiped and imitated. The norm of life is given in God incarnate, the divine and human person, who is God’s righteousness and the fulfillment of our call to be holy as God is holy.
By understanding this biblical norm, the basic problems of “obligation” and “moral law,” for modern moral theory, come into view. Moral norms become arbitrary and ultimately incoherent apart from a lawgiver who is also the fulfillment and purpose of human life. Apart from God as “measure” and “end” of human life, the moral rationality that holds together law, moral obligations, virtue, and human flourishing eventually disintegrates. This profound insight was made over a half century ago by Elizabeth Anscombe.
See also Consequentialism; Deontological Theories of Ethics; Imitation of Jesus; Incarnation; Justification, Moral
Bibliography
Anscombe, E. “Modern Moral Philosophy.” Philosophy 33 (1958): 3-19.
David Matzko McCarthy
The book of Numbers, the fourth book of the OT, derives its name from the two census lists that number the people in each of the twelve tribes of Israel during their wilderness journey to the promised land of Canaan (chaps. 1; 26). These two census lists mark two different generations of Israelites, one old and rebellious and the other new and hopeful. Numbers moves from Israel’s obedient preparations for the march from Mount Sinai to Canaan (chaps. 1-10), to an abrupt series of increasingly serious rebellions against God and Moses by the old generation (chaps. 11-20), to glimpses of hope in the midst of the dying out of the old generation (chaps. 21-25), to the rise of a new generation standing with hope on the edge of the promised land (chaps. 26-36).
Israel’s Second Great Sin: Refusing God’s Gift of the Land
Israel’s idolatrous worship of the golden calf in Exod. 32 was its first great sin in its wilderness journey from Egypt to Canaan. Israel’s second great sin is presented in the spy story in Num. 13-14. The Israelites refuse to accept God’s gift of the land of Canaan because they fear the power and size of the Canaanite enemy. God’s reaction is initially a plan to destroy all the Israelites, but then God relents in response to Moses’ intercession and appeal to God’s merciful character (14:10-19).
However, severe consequences also result from Israel’s lack of trust in God. God resolves that the old wilderness generation will have to wander in the wilderness for an additional thirty-eight years until they all die out in the wilderness. Only their children as a new generation of Israelites will be allowed to enter into the land of Canaan (14:20-35).
Challenging Ethical Issues in Numbers
The book of Numbers contains one of the most blatant examples of patriarchy and gender inequality in the Bible: the legal case of a wife suspected of adultery (5:11-31). The law allows a husband who suspects his wife of adultery to bring that charge against her even though he has no evidence. The wife is subjected to a humiliating public ritual involving a trial of ordeal. The wife, however, has no right to bring a similar charge against her husband.
Another ethically challenging text in Numbers is the story of the priest Phinehas, who kills a Midi-anite woman and Israelite man as punishment for Israel’s entanglement with Midianite women and the worship of their foreign gods (25:1-18). Later in Numbers, God commands Israel to engage in a holy war against the Midianites because they tempted Israel away from the worship of Israel’s God (31:1-54). These texts have been used in the history of biblical interpretation to legitimate the use of violence and holy war as a weapon of religious intolerance.
Positive Ethical Resources in Numbers
The book of Numbers also provides some positive ethical resources for the community of faith. God’s ultimate will for his people is expressed by the benediction or blessing that God commands the priests to place upon the people of Israel (6:22-27).
The two narratives of chapter 11 and chapter 12 affirm the wisdom of the wide distribution of authority and leadership among many parts of the community (see 11:16-30) and, at the same time, the importance of maintaining Moses’ authority as a central leader. The two stories together suggest the wisdom of a dialogical balance between distributed and centralized authority in the structure of community governance.
The story of the foreign prophet Balaam in chaps. 22-24 affirms God’s ability to work through and accomplish his purposes through a foreign religious leader such as Balaam. God’s sovereignty is clear as he unravels the plans of the Moabite king to curse Israel and instead ensures the blessing of Israel by the prophet Balaam.
The case of the five daughters of Zelophehad in chaps. 27 and 36 illustrates the need for ongoing reinterpretation of earlier laws and traditions in the face of new contexts and circumstances.
See also Adultery; Authority and Power; Blessing and Cursing; Feminist Ethics; Holy War; Old Testament Ethics; Violence
Bibliography
Bach, A. “Good to the Last Drop: Viewing the Sotah (Num. 5.11—31) as the Glass Half Empty and Wondering How to View It Half Full.” Pages 26—54 in The New Literary Criticism and the Hebrew Bible, ed. J. Exum and D. Clines. JSOTSup 143. JSOT Press, 1993; Collins, J. “The Zeal of Phinehas: The Bible and the Legitimation of Violence.” JBL 122 (2003): 3—21; Olson, D. Numbers. IBC. Westminster John Knox, 1996; Sakenfeld, K. “In the Wilderness, Awaiting the Promised Land: The Daughters of Zelophehad and Feminist Interpretation.” PSB 9 (1988): 179-96.
Dennis T. Olson