Profit is an advantage generated beyond the effort required to achieve the related goal. While profit can be understood as any such excess gain, the term is typically used in business to denote the net financial return after all relevant expenses have been taken into account. Ethical questions associated with such return should be informed by Scripture’s emphases on economic stewardship, proper human motivation, economic responsibility, and appropriate policies for the generation of profit.
Genesis 1:28; 2:15 indicate that humans share in God’s rule, with the expectation that the whole of creation will flourish as humans work with and care for its resources. Within this divine delegation of economic responsibilities, profit may serve as one measure of responsible trusteeship for God’s resources. The industrious woman of Prov. 31 is praised as an example of wise entrepreneurial choices that illustrate such good stewardship. Still, the NT has multiple warnings about human motivations related to financial return. Jesus observes, “You cannot serve God and wealth” (Matt. 6:24), and “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God” (Mark 10:25). Paul writes, “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Tim. 6:10). These passages indicate that commitment to God and love for God’s kingdom should provide the primary framework within which financial rewards should be sought. Profit-making can be appropriate if kingdom goals are cultivated and if biblical values are honored in the processes by which profit is achieved.
The Bible also describes how those with financial gain have direct responsibilities for other people’s needs. In Lev. 19:9-10, when land and crops were principal forms of wealth, God commands productive Israelites to leave the crop’s remainder for the poor. Similarly, Paul encourages generosity by the well-supplied Corinthians, so that “the one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little” (2 Cor. 8:15). Scripture teaches that economic profits should spread beyond those who directly generate them so that an entire community can flourish because of a fair balance between abundance and need. Finally, God retains the right, through his human agents, to alter economic structures within which profit is generated. The Jubilee Year, as recorded in Lev. 25:23-28, required that, without cost, land revert to its original owner after fifty years. While profits could be sought, the policies under which profits were generated could also be altered periodically to mirror God’s concerns for equitable access to the resources of production.
The market economy of the twenty-first century differs substantially from that of the biblical era. Several millennia of economic experience and change have now created a global network for economic transactions. Amid perennial moral questions about the human motivation for seeking profits, the scope of every person’s economic stewardship has become worldwide. In such an economy profits are needed for business survival, growth, and other healthy economic outcomes. Profits are now generated by multiple economic strategies, through individuals, small partnerships, multilateral contracts, or large corporate entities, and related stewardship for them must be considered from multiple vantage points. But each entity generating profits should distribute fair gains to the various constituencies that participated in the generation of profits. Balancing their proportionate claims with Christian justice, prudence, and wisdom is a significant challenge.
See also Almsgiving; Benevolence; Business Ethics; Capitalism; Cost-Benefit Analysis; Debt; Economic Development; Economic Ethics; Greed; Justice, Distributive; Markets; Tithe, Tithing; Trade
Bibliography
Bakke, D. Joy at Work: A Revolutionary Approach to Fun on the Job. PVG, 2005; De Pree, M. Leadership Is an Art. Doubleday, 1989; Miller, D. God at Work: The History and Promise of the Faith at Work Movement. Oxford University Press, 2007; Pollard, C. Serving Two Masters? Reflections on God and Profit. HarperCollins, 2006; Stackhouse, M., D. McCann, and S. Roels. On Moral Business: Classical and Contemporary Resources for Ethics in Economic Life. Eerdmans, 1995.
Shirley J. Roels
Promiscuity See Sexual Ethics
To make a promise is to intend or will in the present a particular future. In keeping a promise, persons allow the intended future to affect choices or decisions in the present. Promise-making and promise-keeping are important to human identity because they are closely connected to personal integrity and interpersonal trust. Promising is also crucial to community life and shared undertakings. Nevertheless, the practice is difficult because of the unpredictability of the future, human fickleness, and a variety of intervening circumstances.
Because of the importance of promises to social life and because of the mysterious ways that promising connects the present and the future, philosophers over the centuries have given the topic significant attention. It is an important aspect of discussions of duty, contract, and morality in general. In the Scriptures, promises are associated with covenants, vows, oaths, and fidelity. The God of the Bible makes and keeps promises and expects followers to do the same. In the Christian theological tradition there is some attention to promising, but much more emphasis is given to fidelity, faithfulness, and covenant, and rarely do contemporary philosophical and theological literatures intersect on these themes.
The Features, Forms, and Challenges of Promising While philosophers have disagreed over whether the obligation to keep promises is conventional or natural, promising is generally understood to create a moral obligation. As John Searle has written, “To recognize something as a promise is to grant that, other things being equal, it ought to be kept” (51). The Kantian tradition has viewed promisekeeping as a duty of perfect obligation, allowing no exceptions. In contrast, a utilitarian emphasis on producing the most good can undermine the practice because persons are expected to continually evaluate whether, by breaking a promise, they might accomplish more good than by keeping it.
Although a commitment to keeping promises helps to foster interpersonal trust, predictability in human relationships, and the possibility of cooperative efforts, most philosophical discussions have also explored excusing conditions or circumstances under which a person is released from a promise. These include situations when it is impossible to sustain or fulfill the promise,
when a promise “no longer fulfills the purposes of the larger commitment it was meant to serve,” and when “another obligation comes into conflict with, and supersedes, the commitment-obligation in question” (Farley 84). In other circumstances, promises are conditional or limited and therefore anticipate the possibility of release. Because of the nature of promising, most moral traditions reject “inconvenience” as an excusing condition, even for minor promises.
Inability to fulfill a promise does not necessarily eliminate responsibility or obligation, and persons often are expected to find alternative ways to keep or redeem the promise. A commitment to fulfilling a promise, however, does not change an otherwise evil or morally reprehensible action into a good or right one.
The practice of promising is always located in a larger context of commitments and responsibilities, and the unfinished nature of many of our stories makes promising both necessary and complicated. Particular promises are never made in a vacuum, and in attempting to keep them, humans sometimes struggle with conflicting commitments, frailty, and finitude.
Promises take different forms; some are formal and are articulated as vows, covenants, or contracts. Promises are generally bilateral or multilateral and involve reciprocal relationships and mutuality. Vows can be unilateral, and they do not necessarily require explicit commitments from another party. Vows taken in marriage, baptism, ordination, and citizenship often are accompanied by ceremonies, witnesses, and historic traditions.
Other promises are informal but basic to everyday interactions and relations: “I’ll be home at four to take care of the children.” Some promises are explicitly spelled out, while others are implicit, setting up expectations that are not fully articulated but form the fabric of everyday fidelity.
Especially during times of transition or significant uncertainty about the future, promises can be conditional, taking the form of “if . . . then . . .” While more limited, such promises are also generally less stable. Contemporary understandings of promises often are both conditional and limited; they are more contractual than covenantal. Cov-enantal commitments anticipate mutual fidelity and enduring responsibility. Contracts build into the promise the possibility of its breach and the subsequent consequences, tied to whether there is satisfaction for one or both parties. Contractual arrangements for business transactions and relations are important, but contracts are not a fully adequate framework for understanding the most important promises in our lives.
Contemporary culture places a high value on an individual’s freedom and capacity to make choices. In this environment, making promises is difficult because keeping options open is seen as an important dimension of freedom. Promises and commitments necessarily foreclose some good opportunities while they open up other ones.
Although institutions often are criticized for their inflexibility, they also can be appreciated as expressions of fidelity over time, embodying promises and providing a framework for consistency to help persons persevere even when perseverance is inconvenient or unsatisfying. Promises constrain behavior, but they also act as anchors so that humans are able to pursue what is most desired or valued.
Promising is an important dimension of personal and interpersonal integrity. Human beings rely on and make subsequent decisions in light of the promises made to them. A person who regularly breaks promises or lightly dismisses them is viewed as unreliable and increasingly untrustworthy. In some situations, broken promises are experienced as deep betrayals.
Promise-Making and Promise-Keeping in the Bible
The God of Scripture has made promises to followers and lives in covenantal relationship with them (e.g., Deut. 7:8-11). God’s covenants or promises are central to the history and theology of the Bible, and God’s character is deeply connected to steadfast love and fidelity (e.g., Exod. 34:6; Pss. 36; 136; Jer. 9:24). The people of God are formed by a promise-keeping God into a community of promise (e.g., Ps. 105:42-45). In Genesis, promises and covenants frame God’s early dealings with humans; much later, Jesus is presented as the fulfillment of God’s promises. Paul says that in Christ, “every one of God’s promises is a ‘Yes’ ” (2 Cor. 1:20).
In commissioning his disciples, Jesus assures them that he will be with them always, “to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20). Jesus’ promise never to leave or forsake his followers is invoked to strengthen their fidelity, holiness, and freedom from fear (Heb. 13:5-6). Peter assures believers that the gift and challenge of the “precious and very great promises” of God will allow them to become “participants of the divine nature,” and that they can trust the promise of his coming. Jesus is not slow, but rather patient, in fulfilling his promise (2 Pet. 1:4; 3:1-13).
The Scriptures and Christian tradition affirm the importance of keeping promises and vows.
Those who walk blamelessly and do right “stand by their oath even to their hurt” (Ps. 15:4). Thomas Aquinas advises, “For one to be accounted faithful one must keep one’s promises” (ST II-II, q. 88, a. 3). Those who have freely made vows to God should perform them. Deuteronomy 23:21-23 warns that “whatever your lips utter you must diligently perform,” while also allowing that individuals might rightly refrain from vowing in the first place.
Within the Scriptures, this affirmation of promising and promises is richly nuanced. Fidelity to God relativizes other fidelities and shapes the promises that ought to be made and kept. In Matt. 5:33-37 Jesus commends a lifestyle rooted in both truthfulness and fidelity when he warns followers not to make oaths or to swear by heaven or earth. A person’s veracity and faithfulness should not need to be shored up by taking an oath.
A certain humility and trust before God are appropriate, given the ambiguity of making plans and promises when the future is both uncertain and unknowable. James 4:13-17 acknowledges that humans neither know nor control the future and cannot do so even by the plans or promises that they make. While it is possible to reduce the future’s uncertainty by making and keeping commitments, we cannot eliminate it entirely.
Several biblical stories illustrate the danger of making or keeping rash promises. Jephthah makes a vow to God that is foolish, and his keeping of it has devastating consequences (Judg. 11:29-40). The story of Herod and John the Baptist is a shocking example of a promise that should neither have been made nor kept. Herod, in response to her “pleasing” dance, promises his wife’s daughter anything she might ask for. When she asks for the head of John, on a platter, Herod complies with the morally outrageous request “out of regard for his oaths and for the guests” (Matt. 14:1-12; Mark 6:21-29). To count a rash promise more important than the life of “a good and holy man” reinforces the picture of Herod as weak and evil.
Making and keeping promises is profoundly important, but the content of those promises is significant as well. The practice is deformed when persons are faithful to the wrong things. For example, loyalties to close-knit groups such as gangs can include strong structures of promising, but the object of fidelity is misplaced. Augustine’s insight into rightly ordered love, that persons should love God first and all else in relation to that love, helps to order our lesser fidelities.
A wariness of the allure and danger of certain promises is built into baptismal formulations that ask candidates, “Do you renounce the devil and all his empty promises?” Though necessarily accompanied by practices of humility, truthfulness, and forgiveness, promising is crucial to the Christian life and to understanding the deepest and most costly expressions of fidelity in marriage, family, vocation, and martyrdom.
See also Covenant; Duty; Fidelity; Forgiveness; Integrity; Marriage and Divorce; Oaths; Obligation; Truthfulness, Truth-Telling; Utilitarianism; Vows
Bibliography
Arendt, H. The Human Condition. University of Chicago Press, 1958, chaps. 33—34; Atiyah, P. Promises, Morals, and Law. Oxford University Press, 1981; Farley, M. Personal Commitments: Beginning, Keeping, Changing. Harper & Row, 1986; Rawls, J. A Theory of Justice. Belknap Press, 1971, 344—50; Robins, M. Promising, Intending, and Moral Autonomy. CSP Cambridge University Press, 1984; Ross, W. Foundations of Ethics. Clarendon, 1939, 87—113; idem. The Right and the Good. Clarendon, 1930, 16-47; Searle, J. “How to Derive ‘Ought’ from ‘Is.’ ” PR 73 (1964): 43-58; Smedes, L. “The Power of Promising.” Christianity Today (Jan. 21, 1983): 16-19; Vitek, W. Promising. Temple University Press, 1993.
Christine D. Pohl
The term propaganda came into use when in 1622 Pope Gregory XV established the Sacra Congrega-tio de Propaganda Fide (Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith). The modern connotation of propaganda as a deliberate attempt to coerce and manipulate perception became prevalent during World War I, when governments employed various forms of media to promote domestic war efforts while demonizing enemies.
The Roman Empire used architecture, public ceremonies, religious events, public inscriptions, sculptures, and other propaganda to build up the image of the empire and its emperor. The Romans, through their propaganda, were able “to exploit a political and spiritual vacuum that made their imperial subjects much more susceptible to the sophisticated offerings of their conquerors. . . . It provided a moral philosophy and a cultural aesthetic that was adopted by the local peoples” (Jowett and O’Donnell 54). In the ancient world coins were an especially important instrument of propaganda because they indicated economic power and authority and reached a wider audience than any other medium.
The Herodians and Pharisees attempted to trap Jesus with a question about paying taxes to Caesar (Mark 12:13-17 pars.). On the one hand, had Jesus openly opposed taxation, that would have marked him as an enemy of the state and allowed for his arrest. On the other hand, had he endorsed taxation, that would have evoked condemnation from the Jewish populace. They regarded taxation as acceptance of Roman rule and as idolatry because Roman coins featured images of the emperor. In response to their question, Jesus asks for a denarius, which featured the image of Caesar and the inscription “Tiberius Caesar Augustus, Son of the Divine Augustus.” When the Pharisees and Herodi-ans acknowledge the image and inscription on the denarius as belonging to Caesar, Jesus responds, “Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Mark 12:17 NET). Jesus effectively avoids their trap by distinguishing between Caesar, whose divine status is merely inscribed on coins, and the true God of the Jews, who has no need for such propaganda.
Rome’s spectacle entertainments were another important use of propaganda. Roman politicians and dignitaries sponsored gladiator fights, exotic animal hunts, public executions, and other “attractions” to display the military might of Rome to tens of thousands in the Colosseum and in similar venues. Early Christians objected to both the violence of the spectacles and the way they cultivated desires in the spectators. Augustine described the effects of this propaganda on spectators: “As soon as he saw the blood, he at once drank in savagery and did not turn away. His eyes were riveted. He imbibed madness . . . he found delight in the murderous contest and was inebriated by bloodthirsty pleasure. He was not the person who had come in, but just one of the crowd” (Conf. 6.7.13). In his catechetical lectures Quod-vultdeus warned catechumens, “The very one who is delighted by such a spectacle has lost his empty soul” (First Homily on the Creeds 2.1-4). Similarly, Tertullian (TheShows), Cyprian (On the Public Shows), and Irenaeus counseled their congregations against participation in this powerful form of propaganda.
See also Deception; Government; Manipulation; Media, Ethical Issues of
Bibliography
Jowett, G., and V O’Donnell. Propaganda and Persuasion. 4th ed. Sage, 2006; Lasswell, H., D. Lerner, and H. Speier, eds. The Symbolic Instrument in Early Times. Vol. 1 of Propaganda and Communication in World History. University Press of Hawaii, 1979.
Chanon R. Ross
From the beginning, the Bible devotes significant attention to possessions. The narratives of the patriarchs keep account of the flocks and herds that accompany the wanderings of Abraham and his descendants, and these are repeatedly referred to as evidence of divine blessing. Later, when agriculture replaces nomadic herding as a way of life, property comes to include land as well as livestock, and houses and fields are added to the inventory. Certainly this positive depiction of prosperity rules out certain attitudes toward property. There can be neither gnostic rejection of matter as tainted nor any pure asceticism that flatly equates material comfort with spiritual corruption. These and related motifs in Scripture, coupled with the values and inclinations of our own society, have given rise to a contemporary school of thought that understands wealth as an essential sign of God’s favor. Some claim it as a central aspect of the welfare that God desires for the faithful, to be actively pursued as such. But the biblical witness is much more various than this suggests and much more ambivalent in its attitude toward possessions. We will return to this question after a summary review of canonical sources.
Paralleling the patriarchal stories of expanding household wealth are the covenant law and prophetic materials that associate well-being, including abundance and material security, with righteousness and fidelity (e.g., Deut. 11:13-15). (They correspondingly threaten disaster, poverty, and suffering as the consequence of faithlessness to God.) Framed in the legal and prophetic texts in terms of the covenant fidelity and wellbeing of Israel as a whole (e.g., Lev. 26:3-5), in the later wisdom tradition they become promises of abundance addressed to individuals based on their personal righteousness and favor with God. This strand can be represented by a couple of examples: “The blessing of the Lord makes rich” (Prov. 10:22); “Prosperity rewards the righteous” (Prov. 13:21). Because of the close links between piety, moral rectitude, and practical prudence in this material, one finds in Proverbs a related strand of material that treats wealth and abundance as the natural reward of diligence and sound judg-ment—for example, “A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich” (Prov. 10:4). Taken alone, these elements of the tradition seem consistent with the views of the popular “prosperity gospel.”
But these are not the only biblical perspectives on wealth, even within the books cited above. Alongside Deuteronomy’s promises of abundance and Isaiah’s visions of grain and oil and tribute flowing into Jerusalem stand dire warnings. They caution against the temptation to trust in abundance and forget the God who provides it (Deut.
32:10-18), and they offer vigorous denunciations of those whose wealth turns them to idolatry (Isa. 2:7-8). Even the wisdom tradition is far from univocal. Proverbs can speak of ill-gotten riches (Prov. 10:2) and of the “deceptive wages” of the wicked (Prov. 11:18 NIV). The psalms that promise that those who fear the Lord “will abide in prosperity” (Ps. 25:13) are matched by those that lament the success of the ruthless and powerful and the impoverishment of the righteous (Ps. 10:1-6). If wealth and prosperity can be viewed as divine blessings on the righteous and as the natural result of hard work and sagacity, they can also be viewed as constant temptations to idolatry and as the tools and frequently the fruit of injustice and oppression. The prophets denounce the avid pursuit of wealth. Jeremiah declares, “Everyone is greedy for unjust gain” (Jer. 6:13), and “Their houses are full of treachery; therefore they have become great and rich” (Jer. 5:27). Zechariah pronounces judgment on those who accumulate wealth while ignoring the poor: “Just as, when I called, they would not hear, so, when they called, I would not hear, says the Lord of hosts, and I scattered them with a whirlwind among all the nations that they had not known. Thus the land they left was desolate” (Zech. 7:13-14).
The NT displays the same diversity and complexity of views about possessions, with both substantial overlap and significant departures from the OT. The theme of wealth as an occasion of idolatry, something that tempts its possessors to trust in economic security rather than in God, remains prominent. Along with explicit instruction equating covetousness with idolatry (Col. 3:5), multiple passages in the Pastoral Epistles warn against the love of money. In 1 Timothy the author goes so far as to call such love “a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Tim. 6:10). There are also multiple sayings of Jesus that address the problem of devotion to riches, including the blunt pronouncement “You cannot serve God and wealth” (Matt. 6:24; Luke 16:13).
Also brought forward from the OT is the suspicion of wealth as frequently being the result of injustice and the means of corruption. Luke repeatedly announces the coming reign of God in terms of the vindication of the poor over against the rich (e.g., Luke 1:53; 4:18), and the book of Revelation similarly identifies the saints as victims of economic oppression, whereas the whore of Babylon and her allies are wealthy and overindulged (e.g., Rev. 2:9; 17:3-4; 18:3, 23-24). Perhaps most vivid of all is the Letter of James, which
contains a withering attack on the wealthy who hoard money while others are in want and use their economic power to exploit and cheat the poor, compromising the systems of justice (Jas. 5:1-6).
Particular to the NT is the concern with property and possessions as barriers to following Christ. The story of a particular well-off individual called to follow Jesus and refusing to do so appears with variations in all three Synoptic Gospels (Matt. 19:16-22; Mark 10:17-22; Luke 18:18-23). In all three versions it is the fact of his many possessions that keeps him from heeding the call, and he departs grieving for the life he cannot embrace. The parable of the sower, likewise in all three Synoptic Gospels, makes a similar point: the “riches and pleasures of life” (Luke 8:14) choke off the seed of the gospel and prevent its coming to fruition.
Finally, ownership of property in the NT is regarded as a call to responsibility for the well-being of the whole community, ultimately extending even to enemies. Believers are to share the means of bodily support with those in need and thus show their love to be more than words on the tongue (1 John 3:16-18). The early community in Acts offers an example of property held in common and distributed according to need (Acts 4:32-37). Elsewhere, the practical aim of sharing within the church is said to be “balance” or “equity” between those who have abundance and those who are in want (2 Cor. 8:13), but its touchstone is the overflowing generosity of Christ, who “for your sakes became . . . poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich” (2 Cor. 8:9). We are to do good to all as it lies in our power and explicitly to provide for the needs of our enemies, giving them food and drink as need requires (Rom. 12:20). The weight and the seriousness of these obligations are indicated in Matt. 25:31-46, where material care for the needy serves as the test of discipleship and the gate of heaven.
It is worth noting what does not come forward into the NT, which is much of the wisdom literature’s confidence that faithfulness will bring prosperity. It remains that those who trust in God are promised the things they need to sustain their faithful service, but the emphasis is on necessities, not wealth. And numerous countertexts (e.g., Heb. 11:32-40), not to mention the Passion Narrative itself, make it difficult to maintain that fidelity will consistently find a material reward, or that material prosperity is an essential part of what God wants for faithful people. Similarly, the strand of wisdom literature that counts prosperity the reliable result of diligence and so to be taken as a mark of good character finds little validation in the NT. Traces of it remain in the insistence that those who expect to eat must continue to work and contribute to the community, and in the admonition that the former thieves take up work so that they may contribute to the poor.
The Bible gives us rich and theologically profound themes to guide our thinking regarding the accumulation, use, and distribution of property and possessions. The nuance, variety, and depth of its witness resist codification into simple rules about what one might earn, or own, or keep. At the same time, it provides powerful barriers against wholesale accommodation to consumer culture and its ethos of endless accumulation. Any version of the gospel that equates the fullness that God promises and desires for all with a celebration of personal wealth in the face of the dire poverty of millions of the world’s inhabitants cannot stand as a credible response to the whole witness of Scripture.
See also Capitalism; Collection for the Saints; Consumerism; Economic Ethics; Greed; Idolatry; Koinonia; Land; Materialism; Poverty and Poor; Resource Allocation; Stewardship; Tithe, Tithing; Wealth
Bibliography
Cavanaugh, W. Being Consumed: Economics and Christian Desire. Eerdmans, 2008; Johnson, L. Sharing Possessions: Mandate and Symbol of Faith. Fortress, 1981; Wheeler, S. Wealth as Peril and Obligation: The New Testament on Possessions. Eerdmans, 1995.
Sondra E. Wheeler
Proselytism is the practice of gaining converts to a religious sect. Proselytizers promote a change in Christian denominations as well as interreligious conversion. In most cases, the term proselytism has a negative connotation, implying coercive methods or impure motives. Most Christians today who actively engage in sharing the message of the gospel prefer to speak of their work as evangelism, witness, or mission. These categories are considered more holistic or legitimate than proselytism. However, some theologians and legal experts argue that the distinction between proselytism and “authentic evangelism” is somewhat arbitrary and ought to be replaced with a conversation about proper versus improper proselytism.
Scriptural Origins
The term proselytism is derived from the Greek proselytos (“proselyte”). In the LXX, proselytos is used to translate the Hebrew for a “stranger” who chose to live among the people of Israel and to embrace the requirements of the law. The Jews did not actively engage in proselytism until after the Babylonian exile, but generally they welcomed proselytes and treated them with respect. The NT contains only four references to proselytes (Matt. 23:15; Acts 2:11; 6:5; 13:43), always reflecting Jewish and not Christian proselytizing efforts. Matthew 23 depicts J esus condemning scribes and Pharisees who lead proselytes astray through an erroneous interpretation of Jewish law. This lone negative reference is not a denunciation of pros-elytism as such but rather of the practice when accompanied by false teaching. The three passages in Acts indicate that Jewish proselytes were among the most receptive to early Christianity.
In the Great Commission (Matt. 28:19) Jesus urges his followers to “make disciples of all nations.” New Testament scholars who take this command seriously affirm that Jesus was issuing a call to evangelize and not proselytize. They also observe that neither Paul nor the other apostles spoke of their work as proselytism. Yet those who draw a sharp line between evangelism and pros-elytism may be ignoring the complex nature of the issue today, particularly with regard to intraChristian proselytism. It is difficult to draw clear parallels with Scripture on this issue because early Christian conversion did not involve the vast range of denominational choices we face today.
Tension between Proselytism and Ecumenism Contrasting proselytism with evangelism has been the focus of ecumenical efforts to achieve some consensus on the problematic features of prosely-tism. In 1995, a joint working group between the Roman Catholic Church and the World Council of Churches (WCC) published The Challenge of Proselytism and the Calling to Common Witness. This document urges evangelizing Christians to
avoid using coercive or manipulative marketing techniques such as unfairly representing other Christian communities and providing material benefits in an attempt to convert a vulnerable portion of the population. A more recent WCC statement on proselytism, published in 1997, urges Christian churches to “renounce proselytism as a denial of authentic witness and an obstruction to the unity of the church.” These statements highlight the ongoing tension between proselytism and ecumenism.
Because of the human desire for power and influence, proselytism can indeed be corrupted by colonialist ambitions and “the tendency toward empire-building” (Bosch 415). The numerical growth of one’s denomination is a powerful motive for seeking converts. In the process, the reality of divine grace is de-emphasized and denominational membership is affirmed as essential to salvation. However, from the perspective of the zealous proselytizer, an ecumenical impulse toward unobjectionable evangelism overlooks the importance of building Christian faith communities and focuses too much on individual conversion. These proselytizers promote a rigorous and even competitive intrareligious dialogue. They suggest that the leaders of more established churches resist proselytism based on a fear of competition and a desire to retain ecclesiastical influence rather than on an uncorrupted desire for Christian unity.
Legal and Political Issues
Religious institutions with deep historical roots in a country often claim the legal right to retain or maintain their religion (Kerr 12). This is true especially for Muslims and Orthodox Christians. Orthodox views are influenced by a lingering resentment over the history of Catholic and Protestant proselytizing efforts. Some laws that restrict proselytism have a legitimate purpose in protecting citizens from fraud and extortion, such as when radical religious groups promise susceptible individuals eternal life in exchange for their life savings. Yet more often than not, laws that restrict proselytizing and other activities of younger churches amount to little more than the establishment of a preferred state religion.
International norms for religious freedom clash with Muslim teachings as well as with the efforts of established Christian churches to control proselytism through legal or political means. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted in 1948 by the United Nations, affirms religious freedom as a universal human right. From this perspective, the United Nations seeks to protect the rights of minorities, celebrate religious pluralism, discourage the abuse of political power, and support the separation of church and state.
Conclusion
Disagreement over the ethical nature of pros-elytism will continue as long as religious groups embrace missionary work as a God-given mandate. However, we can hope for some consensus regarding what falls into the category of “improper proselytism.” We can agree that prosely-tism should never be subsidized by tax dollars. Other inappropriate motives and methods can also be collectively denounced, such as insensitivity to the beliefs and practices of an indigenous culture, uncharitable representations of other religious groups, and coercive practices that mock genuinely ecumenical efforts. Whether classified as proselytism or evangelism, the good news must always be shared “with gentleness and reverence” (1 Pet. 3:16).
See also Conversion; Ecumenism; Evangelism; Manipulation
Bibliography
Bosch, D. Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission. Orbis, 1991; Joint Working Group between the Roman Catholic Church and the World Council of Churches. Seventh Report. WCC Publications, 1998; Kerr, D. “Christian Understandings of Proselytism.” 1BMR 23 (1999): 8-12, 14; World Council of Churches. “You Are the Light of the World”: Statements on Mission by the World Council of Churches, 1980—2005. WCC Publications, 2005.
Paul D. Miller
Prostitution is the provision of sexual services in exchange for some form of payment. In the ancient world, as today, it was a tolerated but socially dishonorable occupation. The prostitute is an ambiguous figure, simultaneously desired and despised.
Any attempt to offer an ethical assessment of prostitution must consider not only the activity of prostitutes but also that of their clients and of the people who act as third parties providing prostitutes (pimps, brothel owners, and those involved with sex trafficking). It must also consider the economic and social dynamics that enable the business of prostitution to function in the way that it does (and these will not be identical everywhere).
There are numerous contingent ethical issues raised by the sex trade that go beyond questions of sexual ethics. Various studies from different countries have shown that prostitutes are often threatened, violently assaulted, raped, and even murdered. The danger of disease is also ever present. In addition, a host of issues surround the way in which states deal with prostitutes via legislation, the police, and the courts. Ethical issues also surround the routes into prostitution; people become prostitutes for many different reasons, but common ones include poverty, homelessness, the need to feed a drug addiction, and coercion by criminal gangs (with a growing number of children forced into prostitution). Prostitutes are, in varying degrees and in different ways, both victims (albeit not always innocent victims) and moral agents.
Although some people, especially at the upper end of the market, choose prostitution because it is what they want to do and their experience of it does not involve violence and coercion, various studies show that the majority of prostitutes in both the developed and developing world do not wish to be prostitutes.
A biblical-ethical assessment will need to consider biblical texts beyond those directly dealing with prostitutes and to ponder biblical themes such as the imago Dei, sin (structural and individual), a general sexual ethic, the importance of the body, freedom and slavery, social justice, God’s solidarity with the broken, and redemptive love. This short article is restricted to biblical texts directly relating to prostitution and therefore falls short of this fuller discussion.
It has been common in scholarship to see two kinds of prostitute in biblical times: sacred (qedesa) and secular (zona). The cultic prostitute was thought to perform sex acts as part of the ritual in a fertility cult. A growing number of biblical scholars now argue that the qedesa, though a pagan cultic functionary, was not a “cult prostitute” (Bird). Thus the present discussion will ignore the probably mythical cult prostitute.
Although prostitution was socially disapproved of in Israel, biblical laws did not forbid it. This gap between ethical ideal and legislation is worth reflecting on. What the laws forbade was fathers selling their daughters into prostitution, presumably to pay off debts (Lev. 19:29). This has implications for the contemporary sex trade. The law also forbade priests from marrying prostitutes, but this seems to be because they were not virgins (and possibly the paternity of priestly descendants was the critical issue) (Lev. 21:7, 13-14). This standard was not applied to nonpriests. The daughter of a priest was forbidden to become a prostitute lest she defile both herself and her father (Lev. 21:9). Finally, the Deuteronomic law forbade the use of money earned from prostitution for the payment of a religious vow (Deut. 23:18). The honoring of vows was taken very seriously, and it is possible that some women resorted to prostitution to pay them. All the aforementioned laws presuppose that a woman who prostitutes herself, even if unwillingly (Lev. 19:29), ritually “defiles” herself, and this implies that the activity is antithetical to ritual holiness.
The place of prostitutes in OT narrative traditions is interesting. Tamar, Judah’s daughter-inlaw, was not a prostitute, but she pretended to be one in order to lure Judah to impregnate her on behalf of her dead husband (Gen. 38). The story reveals Judah’s double standard and ultimately vindicates Tamar.
Rahab is presented in a very positive light (Josh. 2:1-14). She is a female Canaanite prostitute, but she trusts in Israel’s God and shows hesed, covenant love, by assisting the people of Israel in their attack on Jericho. For this loyalty she was spared and her descendants lived in Israel (Josh. 6:17-25). In the NT, Rahab is honored as one of the ancestors of David and of Jesus (Matt. 1:5). She is upheld as a model of faith (Heb. 11:31) and as one who was justified by her works of faith (Jas. 2:25-26).
In 1 Kgs. 3:16-28 we read of two prostitutes who came to Solomon in a dispute over whose child was dead and whose still living. The story is told to show Solomon’s wisdom in settling an argument in which the only evidence is the word of one prostitute against another. It is interesting that prostitutes had access to the king to settle a dispute, and that Solomon’s strategy is predicated on the assumption that the real mother of the living baby will be a good mother, willing to give up her child rather than see it killed by being divided in half.
What is intriguing about these stories is that, while they are parasitic upon a stereotype of prostitutes as corrupt and untrustworthy people, they go some way toward undermining such stereotypes. The stories challenge us to see prostitutes as real people—daughters, mothers, sisters. Also interesting is that men such as Judah (Gen. 38) and Samson (Judg. 16:1), who used prostitutes, though implicitly disapproved of, were not thereby written off.
The wisdom literature sought to persuade its (male) audience not to use prostitutes. The reasoning is quite pragmatic: an addiction to prostitution is very expensive, and a man will lose his economic resources that way (Prov. 29:3; Sir. 9:6; 19:2). That said, the price of no-strings sex with a prostitute is cheap compared to the price of sex with a married woman (Prov. 2:16-19; 5:1-20; 6:25-26).
Wisdom literature aims to help men to be aware of, and to resist, the seductive words used by prostitutes and adulteresses (Prov. 7:1-27). As such, it trades off stereotypes, being disinterested in looking behind those words to the reasons why women might be resorting to them. The strategy has its place in persuading men not to use prostitutes, but it also has its obvious limitations.
The biblical prophets’ references to prostitution are almost entirely metaphorical. Prostitution became the major sexual metaphor used to signify Israel’s infidelity to Yahweh (Jer. 2:19-21; 3:1-3; 13:27; Ezek. 16; 23; 43:9; Hos. 4:6-19; 5:1-4; 6:6-11; 9:1-3). The metaphor is also picked up in various narratives, laws, and psalms (e.g., Exod. 34:15-16; Num. 15:37-41; Deut. 31:16-71; Judg. 2:17). However, the image is not simply Israel as a whore but rather Israel as a wife who acts as a whore. The use of prostitution rather than straightforward adultery as the key metaphor for apostasy probably was intended to (1) accentuate the number of her “sexual partners” (idols);
(2) highlight that the infidelity was motivated by the expected “fee” (material blessings); and
(3) suggest her shameless attitude toward her shameful behavior (Jer. 2:23). The metaphor trades off negative attitudes toward prostitution combined with the horror at inexplicable infidelity toward a good and faithful husband.
In the NT, Jesus says that the prostitutes and tax collectors who repented at John the Baptist’s teaching are akin to a son who said that he would not do his father’s will but then did it (Matt. 21:28-32). He told the Jewish leadership, “The tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you” (Matt. 21:31). Here, Jesus was not endorsing the validity of prostitution; indeed, the power of the saying depends on its undesirability (even prostitutes are ahead of priests and Pharisees!). However, he was implicitly rejecting the idea that prostitutes were inherently lewd and was welcoming repentant prostitutes into God’s kingdom. This open approach is reinforced by the story of Jesus’ attitude toward the woman (quite possibly a prostitute) who cleaned his feet with her tears in Simon the Pharisee’s house (Luke 7:36-50). His forgiving attitude toward those who had used prostitutes
in the past might be inferred from the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:13, 30).
The most theological argument in Scripture against the use of prostitutes is found in 1 Cor. 6:9-20. Paul is opposing those who think that all that matters is the spirit, and that what one does with one’s body is ethically irrelevant. Paul’s view of the body is grounded in a Jewish understanding of the goodness of material creation and of its ultimate resurrection. Consequently, the body is integral to our identity and holiness. To have sex with a prostitute is to sin:
1. against Christ. To sleep with a prostitute (who represents the alienated cosmos) is to join Christ with that prostitute, thereby blurring fundamental identity boundaries, and to deny Christ’s ownership of our bodies (vv. 13-15).
2. against oneself. Paul sees the sexual act as one that involved the whole person, not simply body parts (vv. 16-18).
3. against the Holy Spirit. The body is a temple of God’s Spirit, and to use it for sexual immorality is to “pollute” that temple (v. 19).
Clearly, all the biblical texts, both OT and NT, view prostitution as an ethically problematic activity At the sexual level, this is grounded in the view that sexual activity should be restricted to marriage. The Bible has a consistently negative view of the practice of prostitution, though without allowing negative stereotypes of prostitutes to remain unchallenged and while granting prostitutes certain rights and welcoming prostitutes who wish to follow Yahweh. The Bible also consistently opposes the use of prostitutes but does not write off those who have used prostitutes.
The biblical writers say little about the ethical issues surrounding the routes into prostitution, the treatment of prostitutes by the state, and violence against prostitutes. However, the wider biblical materials do provide rich resources for Christians today who are alert to such issues. A contemporary biblical-ethical analysis of prostitution must engage in such broader reflections and position itself “against prostitution but for prostitutes.”
See also Adultery; Body; Image of God; Sex and Sexuality; Sexual Ethics; Sin; Slavery
Bibliography
Bird, P. “The Harlot as Heroine: Narrative Art and Social Presupposition in Three Old Testament Texts.” Pages 197— 218 in Missing Persons and Mistaken Identities: Women and Gender in Ancient Israel. Fortress, 1997; idem. “ ‘To Play the Harlot’: An Inquiry into an Old Testament Metaphor.” Pages 219—36 in Missing Persons and Mistaken Identities: Women and Gender in Ancient Israel. Fortress, 1997.
Robin Parry
The book of Proverbs directly addresses questions concerning ethics and the moral life. It is an anthology of “wisdom” material that includes long instructional poems (chaps. 1-9); collections of short, pithy sayings commonly thought of as “proverbs” intermingled with direct admonitions (chaps. 10-29); and other instructional material, including an acrostic poem (chaps. 30-31).
The poems in Prov. 1-9 deploy the metaphor of the “two ways” to speak of the possibilities of moral life: the way of wisdom and righteousness leads to life; the way of folly and wickedness leads to death. These poems exhort the reader to forsake the way of folly and follow the way of wisdom. Wisdom’s value, or desirability, in the poems is persistently and metaphorically highlighted in terms of material riches (e.g., 2:4; 3:14-16; 8:10-11) and erotic attraction (e.g., 4:6, 8-9; 7:4). Wisdom is more valuable than wealth and offers not merely literal, material riches, but the “enduring wealth” of virtue (8:18) and is personified for the book’s presumed original young, male audience as a desirable and marriageable woman (Yoder).
Yet, Proverbs recognizes that life’s two divergent paths may not always appear so different from each other; it speaks of the enduring value of wisdom’s way, but also of the powerful (if superficial) attraction of the way of folly and wickedness. The “sinners” who follow this way, for example, also hold out a promise of (ill-gotten) “precious wealth” to the one who would join them (1:10-19). Likewise, Prov. 1-9 not only personifies wisdom as a virtuous and desirable woman; these chapters also speak of another desirable woman: the strange or foreign woman, who, on a literal reading of the text, is best understood as an adulteress, potentially able to seduce the addressee (e.g., 2:16-19; 5:3-23). The adulteress, however, is symbolically linked with folly, which is later also personified as a woman (9:13-18). Together, the strange woman and Woman Folly constitute the mirror image of Woman Wisdom (9:1-6; cf. 1:20-21; 7:10-12). They represent all that belongs to the dangerous, wrong way.
By deploying images of desirable women and valuable material wealth in relation to the ways of wisdom and folly, Prov. 1-9 undertakes the moral task of training the desires of its addressee along the better of the two paths. Although wealth and erotic fulfillment are pleasing and can afford temporary advantage, neither, according to the sages of Proverbs, is ultimately as desirable as wisdom. The pursuit of these and other lesser goods, the text suggests, ought to be subordinated to the pursuit of wisdom and appropriately ordered by wisdom’s virtues.
The precise content of the virtues that constitute wisdom’s way, however, is only minimally sketched in Prov. 1-9. The short sayings, or “proverbs,” and admonitions of Prov. 10-29, by contrast, address a spectrum of topics relevant to daily life that together comprised the themes of moral discourse in ancient Israelite wisdom traditions: right and wrong speech, diligence and slothfulness, wealth and poverty, the rich and the poor, and so forth.
Folklorists who have studied the proverbs of a range of cultures have demonstrated that the oral “performance” (or use) of such sayings in everyday settings regularly serves important moral pur-poses—in ethical instruction, decision-making, legal reasoning, and promoting the prized values and virtues of the culture in which they are current. However, the precise meaning, and hence moral import, of any proverbial saying is dependent on the concrete context in which it is uttered. When it is divorced from its oral context, a proverb becomes rootless and loses its full connotation. Wolfang Mieder has gone so far as to claim that “a proverb in a collection is dead” (Mieder 892) because, by definition, a proverb that is written in a book is devoid of its oral context.
If Mieder is correct that a proverb in a collection is dead, certain problems for understanding the book of Proverbs arise, since this text in large part consists precisely of proverbs in collections. Some commentators advocate “recontextualizing” the sayings of Proverbs for today’s world (Bergant) and suggest that readers of the book today consider their own lives and apply any biblical proverbs that might prove to illumine those contexts.
Recontextualizing biblical proverbs is one way in which the contemporary ethical import of aspects of the book of Proverbs might be recognized and made accessible. Yet, scholars have long debated whether the sayings of Proverbs are the kind of oral, folk proverbs with which Mieder and other folklorists are concerned, or whether they represent the literary production of learned sages. If the sayings of Proverbs are not the kind of proverbs normally deployed in oral contexts, any recontexu-alizing can appear artificial and awkward.
In fact, it is likely that the sayings of Proverbs are not mere transcriptions of the oral, proverbial wisdom of the folk of ancient Israel and Judah, but rather are tropes that have been consciously shaped by the literary hand of professional scribes. Hence, they reflect and promote the virtues and moral perspectives of an intellectual elite, though not necessarily an economic or political elite.
Thus, in order to understand the moral landscape of Proverbs, it is most productive to consider the book’s literary character. In this regard, the prologue in Proverbs (1:2-6) provides a hermeneutical cue for understanding both the book’s moral purpose and how the text’s literary features relate to the book’s instruction. These verses indicate that Proverbs is concerned with instilling in its addressee intellectual virtues that it calls “wisdom,” “instruction,” and “insight” (v. 2); the social virtues of “righteousness, justice, and equity” (v. 3); and practical virtues such as “shrewdness” (v. 4). A close examination of 1:2-4 (see Sandoval) also indicates that v. 3 stands at the pinnacle of the passage’s poetic structure, suggesting that the sages who constructed Proverbs particularly prized social virtue.
If vv. 2-4 of the prologue outline the content of Proverbs’ teaching, vv. 5-6 signal how Proverbs’ instruction will be presented by means of tropes (NRSV: “proverbs”), figures, and riddles. The book’s moral discourse therefore is not a discourse that can be comprehended in merely literal terms; it requires readers who will thoughtfully examine its figurative dimensions.
Considering Proverbs’ teaching within the literary horizon sketched by the prologue is important because the book sometimes is characterized as a simple guide to success. This understanding is largely due to an overly literal reading of the book’s retributive rhetoric, which appears simplistically to promise good things to those who pursue wisdom’s way and bad things to those who stray onto folly’s path. The book’s association of wealth with wisdom, for instance, often is thought to suggest that the one who finds wisdom should inevitably be rewarded with literal, material riches. Similarly, because the text also relates specific virtues (e.g., diligence) with images of material wealth, and certain vices (e.g., sloth) with images of material lack, sayings such as “A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich” (10:4) sometimes are thought to “blame the poor” for their poverty and to congratulate the wealthy for their virtue. Since Proverbs also recognizes the real social advantage that wealth often provides the rich (10:15; 18:23; 22:7), many likewise believe that the book’s moral bias is in favor of the economic elite. Yet, because the text also insists that poor be treated with kindness and justice, some have characterized much of the book’s moral discourse as ambiguous.
However, by recalling that Proverbs is likely the product of a scribal (intellectual) elite, and that the prologue communicates the sages’ preference for social virtue or justice (1:3) via figurative language, modern readers can approach the text in a meaningful manner while avoiding the extremes of literalism or acquiescence to the book’s apparent moral ambiguity.
Readers can achieve this by, on the one hand, recognizing that Proverbs’ retributive rhetoric, even if it ought not to be understood in a simple, literal manner, does suggest a correlation between the attainment of wisdom and good things, or a “good life,” and by, on the other hand, identifying another important moral-theological claim made in the book: wisdom’s close relationship to creation. According to Prov. 8:22-31, wisdom is intimately related to Yahweh’s act of creation and might be said to infuse creation itself. Hence, those who attain wisdom’s virtues and thus align themselves with the genuine nature of the wisdom-infused cosmos ought not be surprised if they reap real-life well-being.
Proverbs 8:22-31 is furthermore significant because here wisdom is personified as a woman and is arguably presented as a divine being whom
Yahweh “acquired” (NRSV: “created”), perhaps as a consort, at “the beginning of his work” (v. 22). She both preexists creation (8:23-26) and is present at the moment of creation (8:27-29), if not actively creating with Yahweh as a “master worker” (8:30). As an independent and creative being beside the male Yahweh, Woman Wisdom has proved a remarkably generative image for much feminist ethical and theological work.
See also Old Testament Ethics; Wisdom Literature Bibliography
Bergant, D. Israel’s Wisdom Literature: A Liberation-Critical Reading. Fortress, 1997, 78-107; Mieder, W. “The Essence of Literary Proverb Studies.” Proverbium 23 (1974): 888-94; Sandoval, T. The Discourse of Wealth and Poverty in the Book of Proverbs. BIS 77. Brill, 2006; Yoder, C. Wisdom as a Woman of Substance: A Socioeconomic Reading of Proverbs 1—9 and 31:10—31. BZAW 304. De Gruyter, 2001.
Timothy J. Sandoval
In the OT, especially its sapiential literature, prudence is depicted as the practical wisdom possessed by the person who is able to apply knowledge to everyday life. Prudence is a particularly important theme in the book of Proverbs, the announced purpose of which is to provide instruction leading to wise and disciplined conduct, “doing what is right and just and fair” (Prov. 1:3 NIV). Since wisdom “dwells together” with prudence (Prov. 8:12), the latter is virtually synonymous with the learned patterns of “knowledge and discretion” that ultimately stem from the proper fear of the Lord (Prov. 1:7). The prudent person “acts out of knowledge” (Prov. 13:16 NIV), gives thought to ways and steps taken (Prov. 14:8, 15), shows an ability to foresee evil and avoid it (Prov. 22:13), chooses words carefully (Prov. 12:23), and overlooks insults (Prov. 12:16). The prudent person is often contrasted starkly with the fool. Prudence is presented as a matter of the heart that transforms moral character: “The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge; the ears of the wise seek it out” (Prov. 18:15 NIV). The prudent person displays a fundamental coherence and consistency of words, emotions, desires, and actions. This sort of integration of personal character is consistent with other biblical accounts of godliness or upright character (e.g., the Shema in Deut. 6:5). According to Proverbs, practical wisdom is gained gradually in the context of instruction and correction from parents and wise elders in the community and shows itself in openness to correction (Prov. 15:5; 16:21).
The Bible sometimes uses prudence in a different and basically negative sense to refer to shrewdness or craftiness in managing one’s worldly affairs. For example, the serpent in the garden of Eden is “more crafty” or “cunning” than any other animal (Gen. 3:1; cf. 1 Sam. 23:22; Ps. 83:3). Guile and duplicity are routinely condemned as aberrant forms of “worldly prudence” that contradict righteous living.
In the NT, the typical Greek term for prudence (phronesis) appears rarely (Luke 1:17; Eph. 1:8). Yet there are occasional echoes of the OT’s endorsement of the prudent person. In various places the NT affirms the value of shrewd practical judgments in everyday life and praises those who make well-calculated decisions in mundane and practical matters. A clear example is when Jesus concludes his teaching in the Sermon on the Mount by extolling the “wise” (Gk. phronimos, “prudent”) person who built a house on rock (Matt. 7:24). Just as a practically sensible person sees the folly of building on sand, so the spiritually sensible person will build an understanding of life on the words of Jesus. Similarly, Jesus says that he is sending his disciples out as sheep among wolves, therefore they should be “prudent” as serpents and harmless as doves (Matt. 10:16). The “prudent” virgins know how to manage daily affairs more effectively than the foolish virgins (Matt. 25:1-13). Another parable commends the prudent or “sensible” stewards (Luke 12:42; 16:8) for acting shrewdly in managing resources.
In classical antiquity, the crucial distinction is between sophia as theoretical wisdom having to do with the mind and knowledge, and phronesis as practical wisdom dealing with life and conduct. Prudence is classified as one of the cardinal virtues. Stoic thinkers such as Cicero and Seneca identified goodness with wisdom. For Aristotle, prudence is truth “concerned with action in relation to the things that are good for human beings” (Eth. nic. 1140b20). It is the virtue required for all the other virtues. In the Christian tradition, the church fathers gave prudence relatively little treatment. Augustine recast the cardinal virtues as forms of Christian love, according to which “prudence is love discerning well between what helps it toward God and what hinders it” (Mor. eccl. 15.25). Drawing heavily on Aristotle, the moral theology of Thomas Aquinas gives prominence to prudence as “right practical reason,” which is “a virtue or developed ability which enables an agent to make and carry out good decisions” (Westberg 3). Reflecting the Thomistic tradition, the Catechism of the Catholic Church (par. 1835) holds that prudence “disposes the practical reason to discern, in every circumstance, our true good and to choose the right means for achieving it.”
See also Cardinal Virtues; Character; Proverbs; Virtue(s); Wisdom Literature
Bibliography
Augustine. The Morals of the Catholic Church. Kessinger, 2005; Catechism of the Catholic Church. Rev. ed. Burns & Oates, 1994, paragraphs 1806, 1835; Thomas Aquinas. ST II-II, qq. 47—56; Westberg, D. Right Practical Reason: Aristotle, Action and Prudence in Aquinas. Clarendon, 1994.
Jeffrey P. Greenman Psalm 151 See Orthodox Ethics
The Psalter manifests the implicit connection between ethics and prayer through its explicit focus on the Torah, the law. Indeed, the very structure of the Psalter reveals a concern for the law, for the five books of the Psalter (Pss. 1-41; 42-72; 73-89; 90-106; 107-150) reflect the fivefold division of the Torah (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy). Thus, in its final form, one could understand the Psalter as the law of God in song. Within this framework, numerous individual psalms describe the benefits of living according to the law and the overall necessity of righteous (i.e., orderly) living. Psalm 19, for example, exhorts the faithful to act in ways that preserve the order God has established at creation (vv. 1-6). Just as God has created the world by bringing order to chaos, God created the faithful community by ordering it through the law (vv. 7-14). Individuals and communities can participate in God’s creative and ordering work; by living in accordance with the law, the faithful help preserve and sustain the order that God has imposed upon the world.
Many psalms focus on the theme of living righ-teously—that is, keeping the law (e.g., Pss. 15; 24; 37; 73). Among them, Ps. 1 has pride of place. As the introduction to the Psalter, it sets the agenda for all that follows. The first verses of this psalm reveal that a clear choice faces all individuals regarding how they will live in relationship to God and the world. One option is to live with and like the wicked (1:1), yet such a life leads inexorably to destruction (1:4-5, 6b). The other option is to live righteously and enjoy the rich blessings of God as a result (1:2-3, 6a). Given the extreme consequences of these options, it may seem surprising that the psalm names only one specific activity that characterizes the righteous life: meditating on the law (v. 2).
Modern readers often understand meditation as the process of entering into a state of silence, tranquility, solitude—even transcendence. However, the Hebrew verb haga (translated “meditate” in the NRSV) actually suggests none of these connotations. Rather, haga has a broad semantic range that includes numerous modes of speaking: uttering, reciting, growling, murmuring, and even singing (LeFebvre). To meditate on the law (Ps. 1:2) is to use a variety of forms of speech to talk to God and about God’s justice. That is to say, the essence of meditation on the law is prayer; and framed this way, the entire Psalter becomes an extended meditation on the law. In light of Ps. 1, one discerns that the Psalter presents an ethic of prayer. Prayer is the sole foundation of righteous behavior, informing and shaping every action in the lives of the faithful. Right actions rely on constant dialogue with God.
In the Psalter, this dialogue appears in beautiful and arresting poetry, set in a variety of genres (individual and communal laments, hymns, songs of thanksgiving, etc.). Taken together, these prayers give expression to the profound joys and deep sorrows that accompany a life lived honestly in relationship with God. Yet there remains a significant challenge for those who seek to live out the ethic of prayer that the psalms embody. Many psalms reflect a fear of the violence of the wicked enemies and contain prayers for Yahweh to provide both salvation from and retribution against the enemies. The violent pleas of the psalmist—for example, that God slay the wicked (Ps. 139:19) or shatter the heads of the enemies (Ps. 68:21)—cre-ate unease among many modern readers, for these passages seem to blur the line between salvation from enemies and retribution against enemies. One wonders if it is right for the psalmist to pray this way.
There have been many suggestions for how Christians should understand the psalms that curse the enemies and invoke God’s violent actions against them—the so-called imprecatory psalms. Erich Zenger has helpfully outlined a number of the proposals (13-22). Some interpreters have considered these psalms to reflect a pre-Christian or anti-Christian Judaism that is utterly contrary to Jesus’ teaching of love for one’s enemies (Matt. 5:4; Luke 6:27, 35). This supersessionist viewpoint has led to the dismissal of certain psalms altogether or at least to the practice of reading only selected verses of problematic psalms so as not to acknowledge the psalmists’ desire for God to act violently against the enemies. The sad irony is that such supersessionism has actually motivated and ostensibly justified brutal acts of violence by Christians against Jews.
In response to this, an increasingly common trend is to find ways to reclaim the psalms of imprecation as appropriate and even vital elements of Christian piety. According to one line of thinking, violent thoughts that go unacknowledged can degrade and pollute the relationship between God and the faithful. Praying honestly requires voicing these feelings, so these psalms function as a form of theological catharsis for those who suffer greatly (McCann 115). Such catharsis is a necessary step in healing. Similarly, Patrick Miller has suggested that psalms of imprecation are valuable for Christian faith and practice in that they represent a simultaneous “letting go” and “holding back.” The prayers validate the experience of suffering and acknowledge the need for retribution, even as the psalmists restrain their emotions by praying the violence rather than executing violence themselves (Miller 200). Thus, these psalms in fact present a radical ethic of nonviolence. By placing violence in the context of prayer, the psalmists reject the right of human retribution and trust in God alone to bring about justice (Firth 141).
These responses to the problem of violence in the psalms have merit, but questions remain. It is difficult to maintain that the psalms categorically reject any act of retribution by humans against humans. While the Psalter commonly pictures Yahweh as the one who would execute violence on the enemies, in several cases humans are the ones meting out violence (e.g., Pss. 18; 149). Whether one understands this violence as execution of divine justice or vengeance, these psalms suggest that such human violence somehow serves the will of a righteous, judging God.
A community’s patterns of prayer reflect and inform its behavior. Thus, someone who prays for blessings of widows, orphans, and the downtrodden (Ps. 146:8-9) also will be inclined to minister to the needs of these people just as God does. Likewise, it is reasonable to assume that someone who prays for God to execute violence on evil oppressors may be motivated to act as God’s agent and inflict violence if and when that is possible. Violent prayers may ultimately have a deleterious effect on the community if they lead to the assumption that one can act as God’s agent and mete out divine retribution.
At this point, the antiphonal nature of the psalms becomes critical to understanding their ethic of prayer. In ancient Israel, as today, prayers uttered within a community prompt the community’s “Amen!” (e.g., Deut. 27:19-26; 1 Chr. 16:36;
Pss. 41:13; 72:19; 89:52; 106:48; Jer. 28:6); that is, the community can serve as a moderator of the prayers, confirming some prayers with its amen and withholding its amen from other prayers, when, for example, the violence of the prayer does not suit the actual situation of the supplicant. A faithful and sensitive community affirms that it is better to pray that God would act violently against the enemies than it is for supplicants to do violence and take matters into their own hands. Yet the community is also aware that prayers shape behavior. And violent prayers can be as dangerous as they are healing. Thus, for every prayer in the psalms, particularly for violent ones, a community serves a critical role, regulating and affirming the prayers with its amens.
See also Old Testament Ethics; Poetic Discourse and Ethics
Bibliography
Firth, D. Surrendering Retribution in the Psalms: Responses to Violence in the Individual Complaints. PBM. Paternoster, 2005; LeFebvre, M. “Torah Meditation and the Psalms: The Invitation of Psalm 1.” Pages 213—25 in Interpreting the Psalms: Issues and Approaches, ed. D. Firth and P. Johnston. InterVarsity, 2005; McCann, J. Theological Introduction to the Book of Psalms: The Psalms as Torah. Abingdon, 1993; Miller, P. “The Hermeneutics of Imprecation.” Pages 193—202 in The Way of the Lord: Essays in Old Testament Theology. Eerdmans, 2007; Wenham, G. “The Ethics of the Psalms.” Pages 175—94 in Interpreting the Psalms: Issues and Approaches, ed. D. Firth and P. Johnston. InterVarsity, 2005; Zenger, E. A God of Vengeance: Understanding the Psalms of Divine Wrath. Westminster John Knox, 1994.
Joel M. LeMon
The term public theology, understood as the basis of social ethics, is quite new. However, the traditional claim that key dimensions of theology can and should be accepted publically as the best grounding for such an ethic is very old. It is rooted in the biblical doctrines of creation, sin, covenantal law, providence, prophetic witness, salvation in Christ, and an eschatology that entails the realization of the kingdom of God. The essential reason that these doctrines should be accepted is simply that these key themes and claims of theology are true, and not only true for believers. Martin Marty, the noted church historian, first used the new term in relation to the work of the leading Christian ethicist of the twentieth century, Reinhold Niebuhr. It was later adopted and expanded by theologian David Tracy, who drew also on the earlier work of Protestant sociologist Ernst Troeltsch, and Catholic moral philosopher
John Courtney Murray. They had documented the ways in which such doctrinal teachings influenced social, political, economic, familial, and professional ethics that were woven into the fabric of cultural life and accepted by believers and nonbelievers alike as enabling human flourishing. The idea was adopted also by European scholars such as Jurgen Moltmann and Wolfhart Pannen-berg and spread over the years so that in 2007 the Global Network for Public Theology was formed, and the International Journal for Public Theology was established.
Today the term public theology applies to those aspects of theology that are both informed by the interaction of biblical insights with philosophy, the sciences, and the world religions, and intended to shape the ethics that guide the common life. Historic leaders of Christian thought who have addressed social questions are taken as models of public theology, and their texts can be identified as the “classics” of this tradition—for example, Augustine’s City of God, Thomas Aquinas’s Summa theologiae (part II-II), Martin Luther’s writings on Christianity and society, John Calvin’s Institutes, Abraham Kuyper’s Lectures on Calvinism, Emil Brunner’s Christianity and Civilization, as well as the many texts produced by missionary, Puritan, social gospel, social encyclical, civil rights, and liberation movements.
In these writings and movements, theological matters are addressed both to the churches and to all those who are instrumental in forming and/or reforming the hearts and souls of persons and the shape of ecclesiastical organizations and civil society. And the warrants, explicit or implicit, for doing so are taken from what has become known as the “quadrilateral.” That is, they appeal to Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience, especially where they overlap, mutually support or correct possible misuses of one or another, and foster compelling arguments as to what we ought
to believe about why things are as they are and
about how we ought to live.
It is perhaps not surprising that such a term would appear in the twentieth century, for it was a time when new technologies, secular philosophies, and nationalist-driven expansion culminated in colonialism (prompting intense decolonialization movements), two world wars, and the threat of a cold war with nuclear weaponry hovering over regional conflicts. These threatened much of public life as it had been conventionally understood in particular contexts, following the principles of national sovereignty. These also reflected a newly vigorous internationalization of political, cultural, and economic institutions (now called “globalization”) in which a new public was created, wider than most people previously imagined (and against which many reacted). Thus, the attempt to find more universal, genuinely ecumenical and catholic, yet orthodox, evangelical, and just ways of speaking theologically and ethically to guide the increasingly common life was urgent. On the one hand, the new awareness of pluralism led to neosectarian reactions against the modern world and to the recognition that the age of politically established national creeds, especially in Christian Europe, is over— although the residues of similar structures remain in some contexts and have analogies in societies shaped by the traditions of other world religions. On the other hand, in Christian cultures both sectarian particularity and politically enforced confessions make theology a private matter of this or that community, which Christian public theology has always aspired to surpass from very early in its history (see the “great commission” of Matt. 28:18-20).
In this regard, it may be useful to contrast public theology with the several concepts with which it is sometimes confused. Sociologist Will Her-berg used the term civic religion to describe what Protestantism, Judaism, and Catholicism in the United States shared as the religious aspects of “Americanism,” although he was also clear that each “root” of this shared canopy of conviction retained its own distinctive faith and practice. Later, sociologist Robert Bellah published one of his famous essays on “civil religion,” which had similar overtones. Such views can help us to describe the operating value system in a particular culture, and any theology or ethic seeking to address social or cultural issues should be clear about this matter. But these views of the ethos often are used to celebrate these values because they are “ours,” to solidify the collective consciousness of the nation. Thus, critics have wondered whether civic religion and civil religion are forms of chauvinism, merely a worshiping of Western culture.
In contrast to these common-denominator features within a particular society and the tendency to project that culture into the heavens, public theology intends to identify universally valid dimensions of biblical and doctrinal sources, of the world’s philosophical wisdom, and of general ethical principles to evaluate the validity of these operating values, and to call for the reform, revision, or refinement of them and of the convictions on which they rest as necessary. Of course, to do so convincingly it must also make a plausible case in public discourse that it can identify what is universally valid in biblical and extrabiblical sources and be willing to be corrected if or when it is shown that its claims are not and cannot be universally valid.
Yet, public theology as it was developed over the centuries has taken quite seriously the ways in which religion in general and specific doctrines operate in a culture, in contrast to some dogmatic traditions that focus more exclusively on the particularities of the faith and treat all religion(s) as idolatrous social or cultural inventions no matter what the consequences of such dogmas render. From the standpoint of at least some forms of public theology, religion as it is believed and practiced in a cultural ethos may well contain the relative incarnation of revelatory insights, authentic faith, and valid ethical elements that need defending or refining, not rejection. It takes the comparative and critical assessment of these factors and of their consequences very seriously and holds that it demands nuanced quadrilateral analysis, using all the theological and ethical methods to confirm or challenge their authenticity.
The idea of public theology is also challenged by those who argue that philosophy is a more universal human mode of public discourse, and that theology is always dependent on a particular religion that is closed to outsiders. But advocates of public theology argue that some particulars in fact bear and reveal the universal more adequately than others. Further, this kind of theology at its best includes the concerns of philosophy, but it understands them within a larger framework that involves attention to claims about the self-disclosure of the love and justice of theos—the basis that is held to be deeper and broader than any humanist love of wisdom by itself can discover. Theology always, sometimes unwittingly, selectively uses philosophy as its servant and considers the philosophy of religion a close cousin; however, philosophy does not always include consideration of God and sometimes excludes it as a problem, if not nonsense.
Another contrast with public theology is “political theology,” in some senses a sister discipline. This contrast is based in the conviction that although a political order is necessary in every social order, the public is prior to the republic. The fabric of civil society, of which religious faith and organization ordinarily form the core, is more determinative of and normatively more important for politics than politics is for society, religion, and morality. Public theology and ethics, as widely seen, differ from political theology and ethics precisely in this: public theology tends to adopt a social theory of politics, whereas political theology inclines to a political view of society. The latter view is most common in imperial, authoritarian, and totalitarian contexts and tends to see political activity or government as the comprehending institution of society. Politics, in this view, is dedicated to the accumulation, organization, and exercise of coercive power for the sake of the enforcement of the edicts of a ruling party. It may do so in a benevolent way, but it is ever concerned with gaining a monopoly of power to guide, limit, or command every subject or citizen and every other institution in a geographical territory, with the threat of the use of force standing behind its actions. Yet, since no regime can long rule by naked force alone, it seeks legitimacy. That is, it seeks a recognition that its possession and use of its power are spiritually and morally, or at least legally, authorized by the religious ideology that it seeks to establish.
However, a social theory of politics sees political parties, governmental polities, and official policies as profoundly shaped by the more primary powers in society—those spheres of life that exist morally, spiritually, and socially prior to the formation of political orders. In this view, political orders, regimes, and dynasties come and go; they are always necessary, but they are also artifacts of those cultural, intellectual, social, technological, and economic spheres of life built on values and interests that are prior to government, and to which every government is, sooner or later, accountable. If a government unduly attempts to control these spheres of social life, they will foment resistance, revolution, and attempts to transform the ruling parties or the form of government altogether. Further, a public theology is predisposed to embrace those social theories that recognize how much these spheres of the common life are shaped by religion and constitute the true public, which government exists to protect, aid, and allow to flourish. It is on this basis that we can say that the purpose of government is “public service,” where the public supplies the source of the legitimacy that any regime needs to survive. The shorthand slogan of this view is this: “Piety predetermines polity, and polity predetermines policy.”
The idea is that faith should not only address believers gathered under the steeple in regard to their private beliefs and behaviors as children of God and in regard to their life together as members of a community of believers; it should also address their lives and actions as participants in families, schools, communities, corporations, cultural organizations, and service and advocacy groups in the so-called secular institutions of civil society. These often are treated by Catholic doctrines of a God-given “natural law” and by the Reformed traditions of “common grace” or “general revelation.” Both imply a public theology. The biblical sources to which both public theologies turn are many, each laden with elements of a universal ethic.
The stories at the beginning of the Bible are intended to establish that life is a gift of God, that humans are made in the image of God, that all persons have a dignity and capabilities that ought not to be wantonly violated, that humanity has a cultural mandate to care for the earth and form civilization responsibly, and that all must acknowledge that we are not always faithful in how we treat these gifts of grace. The grand story of the exodus is a paradigmatic statement against sinfulness, oppression, and exploitation, and of how God commissions all who gain enough liberation from these betrayals of grace to participate in the ordering of life in societies around universal first principles of right and wrong and ultimate purposes of the common good. The narratives of leadership by priests and kings and the oracles of the prophets repeatedly warn humanity of the consequences of infidelity and injustice, and the wisdom literature shows that valid insight can come from sources outside our primary religious and cultural traditions. And from this historical experience comes the expectation and promise of redemption by a messiah.
And in the NT, it is not only Jesus and the disciples who bear the good news of the gospel that the Messiah has come; repeatedly, the crowds are witnesses, even though some turn away and some turn against that message. Even more, the parables used to convey the theological and ethical message about a historical transformation of the common life were drawn from areas of public life—weddings, working, trading, fishing, healing, trials, teaching, preaching, sharing, feasting, debating— that Jesus presumes can be publically understood. And both Paul and Peter anticipate missionaries and preachers of all generations who go to the peoples of the world everywhere with both the insights of the faith and the drive to help people, which generate missions of education, medicine, just legal systems, and technological and economic development, even if they also carry with them the perils of imperialism, which can be overcome only by a better global public theology than some have had.
See also Common Good; Natural Law; Pluralism; Political Ethics
Bibliography
Atherton, J. Public Theology for Changing Times. SPCK, 2000; Bellah, R. “Civil Religion in America.” Dwdalus 96, no. 1 (1967): 1-21; Bolt, J. A Free Church, A Holy Nation: Abraham Kuyper’s American Public Theology. Eerdmans, 2001; Breitenberg, E., Jr. “To Tell the Truth: Will the Real Public Theology Please Stand Up?” JSCE 23, no. 2 (2003): 55-96; Browning, D., and F. Schussler Fiorenza, eds. Habermas, Modernity, and Public Theology. Crossroad, 1992; Cady, L. Religion, Theology, and American Public Life. State University of New York Press, 1993; Casanova, J. Public Religions in the Modern World. University of Chicago Press, 1994; Fergusson, D. Community, Liberalism, and Christian Ethics. NSCE. Cambridge University Press, 1998; Herberg, W. Protestant, Catholic, Jew: An Essay in American Religious Sociology. Rev. ed. Anchor Books, 1960; Himes, M., and K. Himes. Fullness of Faith: The Public Significance of Theology. Paulist Press, 1993; Lovin, R. Christian Faith and Public Choices: The Social Ethics of Barth, Brunner, and Bonhoeffer. Fortress, 1984; Molt-mann, J. God for a Secular Society: The Public Relevance of Theology. Fortress, 1999; Niebuhr, R. The Nature and Destiny of Man: A Christian Interpretation. 2 vols. Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1949-51; Schindler, J. Christianity and Civil Society: Catholic and Neo-Calvinist Perspectives. Lexington Books, 2008; Simons, R. Competing Gospels: Public Theology and Economic Theory. E. J. Dwyer, 1995; Stackhouse, M. Public Theology and Political Economy. Eerdmans, 1984; Tracy, D. Blessed Rage for Order: The New Pluralism in Theology. Crossroad, 1991; Wijaya, Y. Business, Family, and Religion: Public Theology in the Context of the Chinese-Indonesian Business Community. Peter Lang, 2002; Wuthnow, R. Christianity and Civil Society: The Contemporary Debate. Trinity Press International, 1996.
Max L. Stackhouse