The term war as used in Scripture generally refers to armed conflict between contending nations, though it can also function metaphorically to convey a deep conflict within a person (e.g., Paul says, “I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind” [Rom. 7:23]). In both Testaments it may either refer to or imply a cosmic conflict between God and the forces that oppose God. Given not only its longer historic narrative and greater length but also its continued focus on the nation of Israel, it is unsurprising that the vast majority of references to war as armed conflict occur in the OT. Also unsurprising is the attention that Christians give to NT texts in developing their theological understandings of war and peace. Given not only scriptural multivocal-ity but also the degree to which judgments about war are always densely related to the cultures in which they arise, the development of multiple theological traditions within Christianity is unsurprising as well.
War in the Old Testament
War and the threat of war are constant features of the OT; so too, however, is the search for peace. Genesis 14 describes the first instances of war named in the Bible. Various kings from the area’s city-states have waged war against one another and, in the process, the victorious kings have taken Lot hostage. Abram pursues them with 318 “trained men” and routs them in the night. Abram’s victory leads the priest-king Melchizedek to bless him and to suggest that Abram keep the spoils but give him the persons whom Abram has brought back. Abram refuses, claiming that he must rely on the generosity of God rather than kings. The chapter encapsulates many of the themes surrounding war through the rest of the OT: the politics of disputed land and contested crowns, the impact of being chosen by God and its concomitant implications for fidelity and purity (a purity that extends to the slaughter of enemies), the removal and recovery of a people from the land and the question of who fights for whom in those processes.
Three central types of war are described in the OT: wars of conquest, civil wars, and defensive wars. Within each type there are varied images of war and peace. During the wars of conquest, for instance, God restricts who fights, when to fight, and how to fight in some places (Deut. 20) while casting aside all restrictions in others (Deut. 7; 1 Sam. 15:3). Both images, however, assume that Israel can fight and will win because God fights with them.
Living between conquest and exile, David personifies the tensions between commands to fight and visions of peace: revered as warrior-king and favored by God in battle but, in 1 Chr. 22:8, not allowed to build the temple because of the blood on his hands. Isaiah calls for Israel neither to fight nor to make alliances with neighboring countries but rather to allow God to protect them; some of the most profoundly peaceful and moving images, notably that of the peaceable kingdom in Isa. 11:1-9, occur here. Yet even a clear vision of peace like that in Isa. 2:1-4, with its famous promise that the nations “shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks,” is matched by the call in Joel 3:10, in different historical circumstances, to “beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruning hooks into spears.” The range of perspectives on war and peace in the OT reinforces the importance of exegetical work that is sensitive to both historical contexts and political-theological assumptions.
During the intertestamental period, the variety of images and perspectives on war and peace continued to expand, sometimes opposing earlier images and sometimes extending them. The LXX, for instance, repeatedly replaces the description of God as a warrior with that of God as the one who destroys war (cf. the LXX of Exod. 15:3; Isa. 42:13 with the MT). The Qumran scrolls not only include martial images but also expand warfare to a cosmic level, focusing on the battle between light and darkness. And the Maccabean revolt led some
Jews to refine their vision of war (paradoxically, partially Hellenizing it) in light of their struggles against the Seleucid Empire. All these images and perspectives were alive and active during the centuries immediately surrounding the formation of the NT and played various roles in shaping it.
War in the New Testament
New Testament references to war, especially calls to war, are considerably more rare than in the OT. This is partly for pragmatic and historical reasons: in spite of the desires of Zealots who hoped that Jesus was a military leader, war against Rome by first-century Jews was not a viable option. During the period of Jesus’ ministry an uneasy peace existed among Zealots, isolationists such as the Essenes, Jewish accommodationists to Roman authority, and Rome. Since the NT writers and their comunities lacked either a state to defend or the power to defend it, the far more tangential role of war in NT visions of political engagement is unsurprising.
However, the relative paucity of attention to or encouragement toward war in the NT is not simply a result of historical context. It is also a product of Jesus’ emphasis on peace in his teachings as developed by NT writers. Most notably in Matthew, Jesus repeatedly preaches nonviolence and nonresistance: be peacemakers, turn the other cheek, love your enemies, and do not resist evil. Obviously, such injunctions are hard to square with acts of war. Equally so are his actions as interpreted by the early church. Not only his repeated acts of comfort and healing, including healing those outside of the covenant community, but also his willingness to die on the cross rather than call on legions of angels to defend himself (Matt. 26:53) reinforce his emphasis on peace and his claim in John 18:36 that his kingdom is not of this world. Paul reiterates Jesus’ call not to resist evil and argues for the priority of love (Rom. 12:9-21). Other NT Letters are replete with the call for Christians to pursue peace and rely on the grace of the “God of peace” that was made manifest in Jesus, whose work, as described by Col. 1:20, is to make peace through the reconciliation of all things to God via his death on the cross.
Yet, although the NT leans heavily toward a pacifist position, it is not entirely univocal on the matter. Jesus tells Peter that those who take up the sword will die by the sword (Matt. 26:52) but also tells the disciples that those who lack swords should sell their cloaks to buy them (Luke 26:36). He tells them that wars and rumors of wars are “but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Matt. 24:8). Paul writes that the governing authorities have been instituted by God and serve God through their use of the sword against evildoers (Rom. 13:1-4). A number of military men (the centurion in Luke 7:1-10, Cornelius in Acts 10) are treated favorably in the NT, and Heb. 11 includes the great warriors of Israel among the cloud of witnesses to the faith. Martial metaphors are scattered throughout the NT, including those concerning the armor of God (Eph. 6:14-17; 1 Thess. 5:8). Moreover, some NT scholars (Otto Betz, Ragnar Leivestad) have emphasized Jesus’ adoption and use of the warrior God vision of the OT for his own use, claiming to be a messianic warrior in battle against the forces of evil.
The book of Revelation, in which fifteen of the twenty-five NT uses of the noun polemos (“war”) and verb polemeo (“to wage war”) occur, adds further complexity to the matter. The book’s apocalyptic imagery promotes a vision of cosmic conflict in which the forces of evil make war against the Lamb of God, whose weapon is the word/sword. Notable in its absence, however, is any actual battle between the King of kings and the armies of darkness arrayed against him: they gather for battle but are summarily vanquished (Rev. 19:19-21). The book’s metaphorical character has allowed Christians to use it both in support of martial violence and against all acts of violence, including war.
Interpreting the OT through the lens of Jesus’ teachings and actions, the early church probably was exclusively pacifist. As of the second century, soldiers were refused baptism, though whether this was because of their connection to violence or to the cult of the emperor is not entirely clear. Nor is it clear whether the early church’s pacifism was due more to its tenuous place in the Roman Empire or to its theological convictions. The evidence of martyrs willing to die, though not to kill, for the faith does not settle the case, and scholarly arguments on such matters are ongoing. We know that by the third century, soldiers were being baptized, if only because we have the writings of early church fathers, such as Tertullian, who were vehemently opposed to their baptisms.
Traditions of Theological Reflection on War and Peace
Constantine’s victory at the Battle of Milvian Bridge in 312 CE signaled a watershed moment for the church and its understandings of war and peace. Not only did it lead to the Edict of Milan in 313 CE, which made Christianity a legal religion (rendering moot pragmatic concerns about the church making itself a target for persecution), but also Constantine connected his military victory to the Christian faith. Within seventy-five years, Christianity would become the official religion of the empire, making the questions of what to do with soldiers in the church and church participation in war even more pressing.
Five approaches to the questions were variously pursued, each by way of emphasizing a distinction between acceptable and unacceptable behavior: (1) one could fight in battle if motivated by love and a desire for justice but not if driven by hate or love of violence; (2) one could fight on behalf of others but not on one’s own behalf; (3) one could fight in battles called for by the rulers of the state but not in private skirmishes; (4) one could fight if one’s station in life did not require living according to a higher moral standard (i.e., soldiers could fight, priests could not); (5) one could fight if one was not a part of the church but not once one had joined the church. These distinctions would continue to play themselves out in the development of the three dominant traditions of theological reflection on war and peace.
Pacifism. Pacifism was the ethic closest to that of Jesus as he is described in the Gospels; it is also probably the closest to that of the early church. Like all traditions, it is not a single approach, however. John Howard Yoder names more than twenty varieties of pacifism. For the sake of convenience, these might be reduced to three broad categories. The first, emphasizing nonresistance and practiced by the historic peace churches (e.g., Mennonites, Amish), begins in the conviction that obedience to Jesus’ commandment to love our enemies trumps all other considerations in moral reasoning about war and peace, including any consequentialist calculations about making things come out right. God in Christ has already done everything necessary to ensure that things come out right; such calculations, therefore, signal a lack of faith in God’s work and a refusal to live into Christian eschatological hope as well as a failure to love others properly. The second, best seen in the nonviolent resistance projects of the civil rights movement as shaped by Martin Luther King Jr. (relying on Gandhi’s idea of satyagraha), argues not only that pacifism is faithful to Jesus’ vision of the kingdom of God but also that nonviolent resistance has the effect of changing the hearts of those who see it practiced and, therein, the political, social, and military structures that support war. It sees pacifism not only as faithful but also as effective. The third, sometimes called “technological pacifism,” argues that modern weapons of war cannot be used in just ways, and therefore we must be pacifists. This latter form is not so much a principled pacifism as a conclusion that follows from a particular approach to just-war arguments. These three categories attend closely to the moral persuasiveness of NT writings, but they are criticized for failing to adequately account for human behavior between Jesus’ resurrection and his return and for allowing some coercive practices (including the use of force by, e.g., the police) while refusing to create space for the violence of war.
Holy war. Born of the conviction that God fights for the good and against evil and calls Christians to do the same, the tradition of holy war relies on its dualistic vision of the world (good/evil; us/them; victory/defeat) to drive a vision of war without limits. Restraints on conduct are ignored, and the only rule in a crusade is to win by utterly defeating the enemy. Interestingly, then, it shares with pacifism the conviction that war is hell. Although certainly (and regrettably) there have been historical manifestations of this approach to war within Christianity (including, most obviously, the Crusades of the Late Middle Ages), and although some contemporary fundamentalisms, especially of the premillenial dispensationalist variety, support it, holy war cannot be theologically justified. Its dualisms deny basic Christian claims about the fundamental goodness of creation (which remains even after the fall), the intrinsic value of all human life, and the continued and free work of God to order, sustain, and transform the world.
Just war. Although precursors to the just-war tradition appear in the OT and Roman law, it enters Christianity most apparently after Constantine, especially in the work of Ambrose and Augustine. It assumes that violence in war must be justified but also can be justified as human beings attempt to make sense of how to live between Jesus’ resurrection and his return. Such justification emphasizes human responsibility for doing justice and assumes that Christians have some political power. Possible justifications have included national self-defense, the support of an aggrieved nation, and the punishment of wrongdoing. Like all traditions, it changes over time; after the sixteenth century, it finds its legal center in the development of international law and its theological/moral center in the just-war criteria. Jus ad bellum criteria pertain to justifications for going into war and generally include demands for legitimate authority, just cause, right intention (and announcement of that intention), last resort, reasonable hope of success, and proportionality. Jus in bello criteria pertain to fighting justly and generally include right intention, proportionality, and discrimination. Recent work has included questions about jus post bellum criteria. Seeing even war as a rule-governed activity that can lead to social stability, the just-war tradition recognizes both human failings and human possibilities this side of eternity and seeks to limit warfare while claiming that some goods do accrue through warfare. Significantly harder to justify on NT grounds, and given the presumption against taking human life, critics point to the way just-war theory can be used to rationalize rather than justify war, question the way the criteria are applied, and highlight its limitations in the face of modern weaponry and the way it can be co-opted by realist/Clausewitzian arguments.
James Childress has argued that rather than thinking of the pacifist and just-war traditions as opposed to each other, we ought to recognize that they need each other. Presupposing the common starting points that human life is valuable and war is bad, just warriors need pacifists to remind them of that starting point and keep them honest, while pacifists need just warriors to supply them
with the criteria by which to rule out particular
wars (and, perhaps, to keep them safe). This argument, though, has faced criticisms from both perspectives.
Contemporary Problems and Projects
Faced with changes in political and economic systems, technology, and war itself (see, e.g., John Mueller’s argument that the age of conventional war has come to an end and is being replaced by criminal activity), and frustrated by the limitations of the traditions to adequately address those changes, a number of ethicists have developed new projects in thinking about war and peace from a Christian perspective. Perhaps the best known of these is the “just-peacemaking” project, developed by Glen Stassen and others, which seeks to develop international practices that would make war unnecessary. Given the advent and distribution of modern weapons of mass destruction, the changing face of geopolitics and its attendant global economic disparities, the proliferation and power of nonstate players and terrorism, the return to public consciousness of religio-ethnic violence, and increasingly critical concerns about the environment, all these traditions and projects face important and difficult tests of fidelity and viability today and into the foreseeable future.
See also Conflict; Conquest; Conscientious Objection; Conscription; Deterrence, Nuclear; Dirty Hands; Enemy, Enemy Love; Force, Use of; Genocide; Government; Holy War; Just-Peacemaking Theory; Just-War Theory; Military Service; Pacifism; Peace; Prisoners of War; Terrorism
Bibliography
Elshtain, J. Women and War. University of Chicago Press, 1995; Gat, A. War in Human Civilization. Oxford University Press, 2006; Hauerwas, S. Performing the Faith: Bonhoeffer and the Practice of Nonviolence. Brazos, 2004; Holmes, A. War and Christian Ethics: Classic and Contemporary Readings on the Morality of War. Baker Academic, 2005; Joas, H. War and Modernity. Trans. R. Livingstone. Blackwell, 2003; Johnson, J. Can Modern War Be Just? Yale University Press, 1984; Miller, R. War in the Twentieth Century: Sources in Theological Ethics. Westminster John Knox, 1992; Mueller, J. The Remnants of War. Cornell University Press, 2004; O’Donovan, O. The Just War Revisited. CIT 2. Cambridge University Press, 2003; Ramsey, P The Just War: Force and Political Responsibility. Row-man & Littlefield, 1968; von Clausewitz, C. On War. Ed. and trans. M. Howard and P. Paret. Princeton University Press, 1976; Walzer, M. Just and Unjust Wars: A Moral Argument with Historical Illustrations. Basic Books, 1992; Yoder, J. When War Is Unjust: Being Honest in Just-War Thinking. Orbis, 1996.
Mark Douglas
The Witness of Scripture
Scripture contains an abundance of material devoted to the topic of wealth. Yet, although the biblical writers speak consistently about wealth, they do not speak about wealth consistently. The variety of voices and perspectives within the canon means that the Bible’s treatments of wealth and possessions cannot easily be synthesized. Here the data will be summarized in six categories, with the recognition that these representative divisions are illustrative and not exhaustive (see Wheeler 107-34).
Wealth as the result of God’s blessing. With the biblical acknowledgment that God’s creation of the material world is good comes the recognition that material possessions are gifts from God intended for use and enjoyment. In the Pentateuch, for example, God’s promise of deliverance from Egypt is repeatedly framed with reference to the people’s relocation to a fruitful “land flowing with milk and honey,” a pledge of communal success in an agrarian context (e.g., Exod. 3:8; Lev. 20:24; Num. 13:27; Deut. 6:3). The blessing of land, however, is associated with the confession that all the earth ultimately belongs to Yahweh (Lev. 25:23; cf. Ps. 24:1: “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it”). The theological conviction that Israel’s land and possessions are held in trust on behalf of God places certain responsibilities on those who steward these material goods in the present. Custody of the land is a gift from God, given to the people at the time of their exodus from Egypt. Therefore, this divine blessing entails the duty of caring for the marginalized: “You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt” (Exod. 22:21; cf. 22:22-27; 23:9; for a similar expression of the idea that national prosperity should be followed by generosity to the less fortunate, see Deut. 15:1-8).
The prophets also frequently articulate visions of future redemption in terms of abundance and agricultural prosperity (e.g., Isa. 60:6-18; Jer. 33:1-9). Even the book of Revelation, which contains one of the most stinging indictments of luxurious excess in the entire canon (17:1-18:24), is punctuated with an eschatological picture of material blessing for the people of God in the new heaven and new earth (21:1-22:22). Thus, the biblical tradition emphasizes the inherent goodness of both the created order and the enjoyment of material blessings as an aspect of God’s creation.
If most of the texts in this category stress the collective dimensions of God’s blessing, there is also a strand of the OT that tends to individualize these promises, so that personal prosperity becomes a sign of divine favor: “Who, then, are those who fear the Lord? He will instruct them in the ways they should choose. They will spend their days in prosperity, and their descendants will inherit the land” (Ps. 25:12-13 TNIV; cf. Prov. 10:22; 13:21, 25). That this notion of righteousness bringing riches is muted, if not altogether absent, in the NT witness is an important factor in the attempt to develop a biblical perspective on wealth and possessions.
Wealth as a resource for meeting human needs. Related to the affirmation of the inherent goodness of material possessions is the concept that those with wealth have a responsibility to share their resources with those in need. The legal traditions in the OT, for example, contain numerous provisions such as the poor tithe, the sabbatical year, and the Jubilee—all designed to provide assistance for the disadvantaged (e.g., Deut. 14:22-29; 15:1-11; Lev. 25:8-55; cf. Sir. 4:1-10). Indeed, a frequent refrain in the Deuteronomic legislation centers on the responsibility of the community to care for the marginalized, particularly resident aliens, orphans, and widows (Deut. 14:29; 16:11, 14; 26:12-13; cf. Job 22:9; Ps. 68:5; Isa. 10:1-3). Adherence to the commandments is said in Deut. 15:4 to lead to an absence of the needy among the people of God.
In the NT, the book of Acts contains several examples of resource sharing within the early church. Picking up on the refrain of Deut. 15:4, the author of Acts notes that the result of the refusal of members of the messianic community in Jerusalem to claim private ownership of possessions, holding instead all things in common, was that “there was not a needy person among them” (4:32-35; cf. 2:44-45; 6:1-7). The NT Epistles provide numerous instances of, or calls for, the provision of material relief for those in need within the community of faith (e.g., Rom. 12:6-8; Phil. 4:10-20; Jas. 2:15-16). Paul’s efforts to organize a financial contribution for impoverished believers in Jerusalem among the largely gentile congregations of his mission stands as an exemplary episode of mutual assistance within the nascent church (Rom. 15:25-32; 1 Cor. 16:1-4; 2 Cor. 8:1-9:15). The author of 1 John aptly summarizes the chris-tological foundation for this kind of beneficence: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” (1 John 3:16-17). Thus, an important strand in the biblical tradition is the notion that those who receive the blessing of material abundance have an obligation to share with those of lesser means.
Wealth as a reward for labor. A third thread, found particularly in the wisdom literature in the OT and the Apocrypha, emphasizes wealth as the outcome of diligent or prudent work. Conversely, a lack of resources is occasionally seen as the result of idleness: “The lazy do not roast their game, but the diligent obtain precious wealth” (Prov. 12:27; cf. 8:18,21; 10:4; 12:11, 24; 13:4; Sir. 2:12). This notion is at least partially reflected in 2 Thess. 3:6-13, a passage that encourages work and warns against idleness for members of the Christian community.
Wealth as a temptation to idolatry. Whereas the three previous categories tend to view wealth in relatively positive light, the next three emphasize the perils of riches. Numerous texts in Scripture underscore, for example, the close relationship between wealth and idolatry. Here the danger of wealth is found particularly in (1) the ability of affluence to foster self-reliance rather than trust in God; and (2) the close connection between prosperity and the worship of pagan gods (Deut. 32:10-18; Isa. 2:5-18; Jer. 5:7-8; Ezek. 7:19-24; Hos. 2:5-9). Indeed, greed, idolatry, and sexual immorality form a kind of unholy triumvirate in Jewish assessment of pagan vice. Wealth is transitory and will mean nothing on the day of judgment (Ps. 49:10-20; Prov. 11:4, 28; 23:1-5; Eccl. 5:10-12; 5:1-6; Matt. 6:19-21; 1 Tim. 6:6-7; Jas. 1:9-11). Jesus’ declaration that one “cannot serve God and wealth” emphasizes the enslaving, idolatrous power of wealth (Matt. 6:24 // Luke 16:13). Similarly, the parable of the rich fool in
Luke 12:16-21 identifies the imprudence of an economic autonomy that ignores God. In both Colossians and Ephesians, the connection between greed and idolatry is explicit: greed is idolatry (Eph. 5:5; Col. 3:5; cf. 1 Tim. 6:17-19).
This connection between wealth and idolatry relates to an important aspect of the Bible’s language about wealth and its converse, poverty: in the ancient world wealth and poverty were not merely economic categories. Since economic activities in antiquity were deeply embedded in social relationships, to be wealthy was as much to enjoy cultural privilege, social power, and elite status as it was to possess money. Conversely, to be poor was to be marginalized, shamed, and excluded, quite often because of a lack of financial resources, but not exclusively so. This is perhaps best illustrated in the Gospel of Luke, where the rich (plousios, plouteo) often are identified as those with power and honor (1:53-54; 6:24-26; 14:12; 16:19-31; 21:1), while the poor (ptochos) often are the socially excluded and dispossessed (4:18; 6:20; 7:22; 14:13, 21; 16:20, 22; 21:3; but cf. 18:22; 19:8, where the poor are recipients of alms) (see Green). To the extent that the wealthy possess power and prestige, they are perhaps particularly prone to the temptation of trusting in the idol of their own resources.
Wealth as the product of injustice. If the previous tradition stresses the spiritual threat of wealth, the next accentuates the extent to which wealth can stem from and perpetuate social injustice. Particularly in the prophetic tradition, wealth is frequently associated with dishonest gain (Mic. 6:10-14) or oppression of the poor (Eccl. 5:8; Isa. 10:1-4; Amos 2:6-8; 4:1; cf. Exod. 23:6). Zechariah 7:9-10 stands as an apt summary of much of the prophetic witness: “Thus says the Lord of hosts: Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another.” Instead of unjust treatment of the poor, the people of God are consistently called to defend the cause of the needy. Psalm 72 is a royal psalm that voices the hope that the king will reflect God’s justice on the earth: “Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to a king’s son. May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice. May the mountains yield prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness. May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor” (Ps. 72:1-4).
In the NT too the accumulation of wealth often is associated with economic injustice. The parable of the rich man and Lazarus offers an evocative commentary on the dangers faced by the wealthy if they neglect the responsibility to demonstrate justice for the poor (Luke 16:19-31). Perhaps more than any other NT book, James accuses the rich of economic oppression (5:1-6), and it defines “pure and undefiled religion” as “to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (1:27). James’s passionate denunciation of the rich is matched by the critique of the exploitative and dehumanizing nature of Roman imperial commerce found in Rev. 18:1-24. These texts that speak against the unjust pursuit and accumulation of wealth are, of course, protests against contingent abuses. Yet this biblical tradition ought to cause all those who possess (relative) wealth to think about the ways in which material prosperity and social power might result from and maintain unjust economic structures.
Wealth as an obstacle to discipleship. Related to the previous motif, a notable theme in the NT is that attachment to wealth can serve as a stumbling block to following Jesus. This notion is exemplified in Jesus’ encounter with a rich man in Mark 10:17-31 (cf. Matt. 19:16-22; Luke 18:18-23). The man is saddened when Jesus instructs, “Sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me” (10:21). Jesus’ response to the man’s grief and departure acknowledges the difficulty of discipleship for the wealthy: “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” (10:23). Similarly, in the parable of the sower, “the lure of wealth” is one of the thorns that choke the seed and prevent its growth (Mark 4:1-19, especially vv. 18-19; cf. 1 John 2:15-17; Rev. 3:14-22). Conversely, dispossession of goods sometimes signals faithful discipleship (Mark 10:28-31; cf. Mark 1:16-20; Matt. 9:9; 13:44-46; Luke 19:1-10).
The Tradition and Scripture
There is an equally great diversity represented among the early Christian authors of the second century and beyond who grappled with Scripture’s witness as it bears on pecuniary matters. One point of unanimity among all church fathers, however, is the common assumption that faith and finance are intimately intertwined. This perspective, of course, is one that the patristic writers inherited from biblical tradition. Although today one sometimes observes—at least in practice, if not in pronouncement—a sharp division between theology and economics, no single important Christian author of the first several centuries of the Common Era advocates such a separation. Those who desire that their beliefs and practices be shaped by the teachings of Scripture, and those who wish to live under the moral authority of the OT and the NT, will necessarily have to wrestle with economic questions, for the questions are raised first and constantly within the Bible itself. Any individual, church, or tradition that fails consistently to identify economic issues as central to the understanding and embodiment of the Christian faith is simply unfaithful to the testimony of Scripture.
Given the number of harsh pronouncements against wealth found in Scripture, it is not surprising that as the church gradually rose in social prominence and collected a greater number of prosperous believers in the second and third centuries, thoughtful Christians began to wrestle with the implications of the Bible’s teachings on wealth. Clement of Alexandra (c. 150-211/216), for instance, penned what is probably the first extended reflection on the problem of wealth for believers. His treatise Quis dives salvetur (“Who Is the Rich Man Being Saved?”) is an extended homily on Mark 10:17-31 aimed at demonstrating to rich Christians in Alexandria that salvation is possible for the wealthy. Clement interprets Jesus’ command to dispossess goods allegorically, so that what one must abandon is not money but rather the desire for, and excessive attachment to, material goods. Such an understanding of this difficult text has been quite popular in Christian history. Clement does, however, advocate both unostentatious living for the wealthy as the outer form of interior detachment (see Paed. 3.10-11) and giving alms to the poor (Quis. div. 32). In his discussion of almsgiving, Clement suggests that it is possible for the rich to purchase eternal reward through the giving of money to the destitute in the present life. Clement’s is an important early voice in the development of the doctrine known as “redemptive almsgiving,” the notion that providing material assistance to the poor redeems (or cancels or cleanses) sin. Aside from Clement, advocates
of redemptive almsgiving include such documents and church fathers as 2 Clement (16.1-4), Didache (4.5-8), Epistle of Barnabas (19.9-11), Shepherd of Hermas (51.5-9), Cyprian (WorksandAlmsgiving), Ambrose (Hel. 20; 76), and Augustine (Enchir. 67; 69; 70). This solution conveniently allowed the rich to maintain the bulk of their wealth while also providing tangible financial assistance to the poor.
Voices more radical than Clement’s can be found. The preaching of John Chrysostom, for example, is at times quite sharp in its assessment of the dangers of wealth and abuses perpetuated by the wealthy. Even more extreme is the development of the monastic tradition, with its emphasis on voluntary poverty and asceticism. The success of the monastic movement probably played a part in discouraging the church from serious reflection on the spiritual and ethical issues associated with wealth, for monastics could aspire to practices of limited and shared possessions, while the majority of believers were free to accumulate wealth of their own, sharing some of it with the religious and some of it with the involuntary poor.
In the twentieth century, advocates of the social gospel and liberation theology, along with certain strands of Catholic social teaching and evangelicals who emphasize biblical traditions of justice, have drawn upon the Bible to offer significant challenges to the self-interested accumulation of wealth that forms the basis of the modern capitalist system. However, proponents of the so-called prosperity gospel, both in the United States and increasingly in the developing world, have focused on one relatively minor strand in the scriptural witness to claim that material prosperity, including financial success, will accompany the faithful.
Any attempt to come to terms with Scripture’s teaching on wealth and possessions must take into account the diversity of the canonical witness. There is no easy way to synthesize the various traditions. One approach would insist that economic ethics, or moral decisions about things such as wealth, must be rooted in the larger story of God’s creativity and salvific action narrated in the witness of Scripture.
Yet, this canonical diversity can be seen as a good thing. The diversity of Scripture can be used to help articulate different messages to different audiences in different contexts. There are times when the harsh prophetic denunciations issued by Isaiah and J ames will need to serve as a grave warning to rich Christians whose careless and selfish pursuit of wealth is defrauding and perhaps even murdering the poor. There are times when believers will need to be reminded that wealth can lead to idolatry, that wealth is portrayed in Scripture as an anti-God power that threatens to enslave the people of God (e.g., Luke 16:13). And there are times when followers of Jesus will need to be reminded of the powerful way in which wealth can be used to meet the material needs of others, when those with an abundance of possessions will be invited to participate in a sharing of goods aimed at providing financial relief for the poor—an endeavor itself modeled after the self-giving love of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 8:9).
See also Almsgiving; Economic Ethics; Generosity; Idolatry; Jubilee; Justice, Distributive; Koinonia;
Liberationist Ethics; Loans; Poverty and Poor; Property and Possessions; Stewardship; Tithe, Tithing
Bibliography
Blomberg, C. Neither Poverty nor Riches: A Biblical Theology of Possessions. InterVarsity, 1999; Coleman, S. The Globalisation of Charismatic Christianity: Spreading the Gospel of Prosperity. Cambridge University Press, 2000; Gonzalez, J. Faith and Wealth: A History of Early Christian Ideas on the Origin, Significance, and Use of Money. Wipf & Stock, 1990; Green, J. “Good News to Whom? Jesus and the ‘Poor’ in the Gospel of Luke.” Pages 59-74 in Jesus of Nazareth: Lord and Christ, ed. J. Green and M. Turner. Eerdmans, 1994; Holman, S. God Knows There’s Need: Christian Responses to Poverty. Oxford University Press, 2009; idem, ed. Wealth and Poverty in Early Church and Society. Baker Academic, 2008; Lindberg, C. Beyond Charity: Reformation Initiatives for the Poor. Fortress, 1993; Rosner, B. Greed as Idolatry: The Origin and Meaning of a Pauline Metaphor. Eerdmans, 2007; Wheeler, S. Wealth as Peril and Obligation: The New Testament on Possessions. Eerdmans, 1995.
David J. Downs
The welfare state is a nineteenth- and twentieth-century model for social, political, and economic organization in which a government takes actions to foster the well-being of its citizens. Services might include education, healthcare, retirement pensions, libraries, poverty relief, and other “safety nets” to ensure basic quality of life. Usually found in highly developed democratic economies, the welfare state represents a theoretical middle way between Marxism and laissez-faire capitalism, arising in response to the historical shortcomings of both. It seeks to foster social unity while not unduly hindering economic growth. It has been most fully embraced in continental Western Europe, but also to lesser degrees in the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada, the United States, and Japan.
Attending to Scripture
One looks in vain for direct references to the welfare state in the Bible. Although a nonnegotiable command to love one’s neighbor in response to God’s love is present in both the OT and the NT, neither one gives directions on exactly how to implement this love. The main argument among Christians with regard to the welfare state model involves the question of where God places the responsibility to care for the poor and otherwise needy: is it upon individuals or upon governmental institutions?
The Torah’s audience is the nation of Israel. God directs them not to be “tight-fisted” toward the needy but rather to “give liberally and be ungrudging” about it (Deut. 15:7, 10). God commands them to leave some food in their vineyards and fields for the alien, widow, and orphan to take (Deut. 24:19-22). They are commanded to treat resident aliens kindly (Lev. 19:34) and to support relatives when they fall on hard times (Lev. 25:35-37). They are not to exploit the poor by lending money to them at interest. Obedience to these commands ensures the well-being not only of the vulnerable but also of Israel as a nation (Lev. 26:3-13). Such teachings rest on a concept of sedaqa as an act of justice, righteousness, and duty to God rather than simple “charity” (as usually translated).
The NT demonstrates a continuing interest in the Jewish concern for the poor and vulnerable. In the Gospels, Mary sings that God “has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (Luke 1:53). Jesus introduces himself as one who “brings good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18), and he urges a rich man to give all his money to the poor (Mark 10:21). He says that only those who feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and imprisoned will inherit the kingdom of God; those who do not will suffer eternal punishment (Matt. 25:31-46). Three times Jesus tells Peter to feed and care for his flock (John 21:15-17). Jesus discouraged greed and hoarding, encouraged generous giving, and even took the paying of taxes in stride (Matt. 22:21), and the early churches appear to have followed this example. The writer of Acts claims that there was no private ownership in the earliest church, and God punished those who refused to share (Acts 2:42-47; 4:32-5:11). Similarly, Paul urges wealthy Christians to follow Jesus’ lead by becoming poor and sending their money to poorer Christians (2 Cor. 8:1-15). This does not mean that the early apostles looked kindly upon idleness or freeloading: “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat” (2 Thess. 3:10). One NT writer wished that “the church not be burdened” with widows who are young or who have family members to care for them, “so that it can assist those who are real widows” (1 Tim. 5:16).
Jesus’ parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) provides an example of the inherent difficulties in applying the Bible to social life. According to one interpretation, the moral of the parable is that God’s people should alleviate suffering, even for complete strangers. If relieving suffering is the thrust of the parable, this task might rightly be taken up by state policymakers in response to a community’s mandate. Another reading, however, sees this parable as a directive for individuals to love their neighbors. If individual love is the main point, then it would be a mistake for a government to take charge of caring for the poor, thereby hindering individuals from performing acts of charity. Jesus said, “You always have the poor with you” (Matt. 26:11; John 12:8), so the eradication of poverty-related suffering may not be of utmost importance for Christians on a large scale. In short, the Scriptures are clear that love of neighbor is among God’s top priorities for humankind, but they offer no explicit policy prescriptions for modern nation-states.
The Tradition and Scripture In the fifth century, Augustine made a distinction between the city of God, in which love of God is the law, and the city of humans, in which self-love and natural law are the rule. One might then argue that government should focus on public matters, while the church takes care of the poor. A simple distinction between church and state does not work here, however, since Augustine saw self-love and love of God coexisting in both the church and the earthly city. In the sixteenth century, John Calvin followed Augustine’s lead in distinguishing church and government, but he too saw them working together harmoniously with several overlapping goals rather than one overpowering the other. The church in Calvin’s Geneva boldly intervened in the economic lives of its citizens: lending at exorbitant interest rates was forbidden, work was divided evenly among local businesses, and offenders against economic justice could be called before the consistory and excommunicated (Valeri). Thus, Christians have a long tradition of partnerships between government and church; the “separation of church and state” is an idea born in the modern period.
The Christian socialist and social gospel movements of the late 1800s and early 1900s did much to offer Christian justification for welfare models. Proponents turned their gaze from saving souls to what they saw as a more important plan: saving society as a whole. An editorial in a 1912 issue of The Biblical World states, “The world will never be saved by the salvation of individuals, simply because the greatest of its sins are not individual sins at all. As individuals we are kind and just, as a society we are heartless and tyrannical.” In the twentieth century, liberation theologians called upon Christians to put practices of social justice at the center of their theology. In 1986 the National Conference of Catholic Bishops in the United States reminded their audience that “the justice of a society is tested by the treatment of the poor.”
In the twenty-first century, the “welfare state” is often invoked as a negative, attacked by Christians who believe “that God ordained government to protect a nation through strong defense and to enforce fundamental laws” but not to “regulate the economy, intervene in the parental responsibility for educating children, or help people who can help themselves” (Zweir and Smith 938). Implicit are two important beliefs: first, markets work perfectly (or nearly so) to ensure that each person gets his or her due; second, individuals, families, and churches can help needy people more effectively and efficiently than governments can (Murray). Opponents of government safety nets generally cite reasons of paternalism and infringements on individual freedoms (i.e., government-mandated charity). Some even characterize safety nets as theft, in that the state unjustly steals from the wealthy through taxation while rewarding the undeserving with handouts (Williams).
Contemporary Application Conventional wisdom holds that conservative Christian theologies are linked to conservative economic opinions, and liberal theologies are related to liberal economic opinions. Sociologists have found, however, that support for social spending correlates more closely to race, class, and political affiliation than to theology or biblical interpretation (Pyle). The Bible provides mixed messages; Israel saw itself as a sovereign nation, whereas early Christianity was forged in a context in which the “kingdom of God” apparently had little to do with earthly power. One may argue that biblical instructions on the redistribution of wealth were directed to individuals or faith communities rather than governments. Christians might agree that God creates scarcity as “the occasion for God to provide for us through each other” (Barrera xv) but still disagree over the best means of instituting those provisions.
Two and a half centuries of capitalism reveal that it is highly effective at fostering the growth of wealth. However, this growth tends to accumulate exponentially in the pockets of the few while disproportionately afflicting society’s weakest members with its unintended consequences. A government depends on the work of all its citizens and therefore has a responsibility to all of its citizens. Human beings “are uneven beneficiaries of . . . grace,” and individual humans’ capacities usually are not earned but rather are a matter of “enabling forces beyond [their] control” (Beckley 17), namely, good birth. More often than not, wealthy people are those who were born into wealth and/or born into families that enabled them to build the social capital needed to succeed in their economic context. If wealth is a gift from God, enabled by stable government, then it should be shared. When private sharing lags, taxation and redistribution can constitute an effective backup plan for ensuring the basic needs of vulnerable individuals and the overall health of society.
See also Capitalism; Charity, Works of; Common Good; Democracy; Economic Ethics; Government; Loans; Political Ethics; Poverty and Power; Taxation; Wealth
Bibliography
Barrera, A. God and the Evil of Scarcity: Moral Foundations of Economic Agency. University of Notre Dame Press, 2005; Beckley, H. “Moral Justifications for the Welfare State.” ASCE 21 (2001): 3-22; Berman, S. The Primacy of Politics: Social Democracy and the Making of Europe’s Twentieth Century. Cambridge University Press, 2006; Galbraith, J. K. The Affluent Society. Houghton Mifflin, 1958; Murray, C. “A Plan to Replace the Welfare State.” Wall Street Journal, March 26, 2006, A16; National Conference of Catholic Bishops. Economic Justice for All: Pastoral Letter on Catholic Social Teaching and the U.S. Economy. United States Catholic Conference, 1986; Pyle, R. “Faith and Commitment to the Poor: Theological Orientation and Support for Government Assistance Measures.” SocRel 54 (1993): 385-401. “The Social Gospel.” Editorial in BibW 40 (1912): 147-51; Valeri, M. “Religion, Discipline, and the Economy in Calvin’s Geneva.” SCJ 28 (1997): 123-42; Williams, W. “Bogus Rights.” The Washington Times, Feb. 14, 2006; Zweir, R., and R. Smith. “Christian Politics and the New Right.” ChrCent 97, no. 32 (Oct. 8, 1980): 937-41.
Kathryn D. Blanchard
Relevance and Background Information John Wesley was an important figure in eighteenth-century England, and in many ways his work and ministry remain influential in the twenty-first century as well. Many denominations consider him instrumental and foundational to the point that his methodological approach and theology have become the center for their organization and rules of faith. Furthermore, one of the fastest-growing Christian expressions, Pentecostalism, is closely associated with the Wesleyan movement. For these reasons, there is no doubt that John Wesley’s contributions to the church have been significant, and his influence still relevant today. And perhaps what is even more significant is the way in which Wesley made an impression in his world and ours. In a traditional way, theologians promote their ideas by organizing them into categories, writing about them, and then publishing them; although we know that Wesley was a highly organized and methodical person, and even though he wrote extensively, he did not organize his ideas in a systematic fashion as did some of his predecessors such as John Calvin and Martin Luther.
It is precisely this nontraditional approach that is fascinating and raises the question of how a theologian who never wrote systematic theology became so influential in defining core theological concepts. The same can be said when it comes to the field of ethics: what do we mean by “Wesleyan ethics” in light of the fact that John Wesley never wrote or published an ethical treatise per se? It is precisely in attempting to answer such questions that one begins to realize the importance of the method itself as opposed to the “systematic” results. In fact, in exploring ethical theories, one could characterize Wesley’s method and approach as character ethics and/or virtue ethics because his focus is on the tangible actions and their moral value as well as the character traits in life and ministry that resemble those of Christ. It is evident that Wesley developed an ethical system that was quite different from the logical organization of abstract moral ideals and philosophical notions typically embraced by traditional academic sources and often removed from their pastoral applicability. Although it is likely that Wesley was aware of these philosophical categories, it is of significant importance to know that he placed particular emphasis on the pastoral and ecclesiological practices as the ethical standard. For these reasons, it is important to explore Wesley’s method because it seems that the method itself becomes the focal point of Wesley’s ethics, and by exploring it one will become acquainted with Wesley’s conclusions, ministerial practices, and moral admonitions to his followers and nonfollowers alike. Furthermore, a careful analysis of Wesley’s methodological approach will offer insights into his hermeneutical practices and his moral views with regard to humankind and its goodness and wickedness.
Wesley’s Methodology: An Obedient Response or Moved by a Higher Call?
In attempting to answer this question, one is required to explore Wesley’s life, ministerial work, and writings to determine the reasons and principles underlying his methodological approach and the consistency of it. Beginning with his life, and based on his own recollection and interpretation, the first notable aspect is his life-changing experience at Aldersgate, which he described thus:
I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation: And an assurance was given me, that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death. I began to pray with all my might for those who had in a more especial manner despitefully used me and persecuted me. I then testified openly to all there, what I now first felt in my heart. (Wesley 1:103)
Wesley’s popular account of his experience at Aldersgate shows that there was a paradigm shift in his belief system, whereby at the personal level he placed his trust in Christ alone and became certain of Christ’s work in his life in terms of deliverance from the law of sin and death. The language of deliverance and its connection to the legal motif are an important aspect in exploring Wesley’s ethical approach. By his own account, Wesley seems to indicate that before the Alders-gate moment he was following a legal approach to the Christian life; in a way, he felt obligated to fulfill his Christian duty, and thus his ethical reasoning can be labeled as deontological. If this is true, Wesley’s primary reasons for his actions and even his missionary work were grounded in a sense of duty and obligation. But after Aldersgate, Wesley seems to be moved by a higher impulse, and the first indication of this shift is his first action. He prayed for those who “used” him and “persecuted” him, which raises questions. Did he not pray for them before this occasion? If he did, what was he asking God to do with them? Perhaps in his strict legalistic sense and following his duty, Wesley did not feel compelled to pray for his enemies; but after his personal transformation, Wesley seems to have developed a sense of moral responsibility for his enemies, not out of a deontological imposition, but rather in response to God’s work in his life. God accepted him, welcomed him, and gave him peace in his heart, while he considered himself an enemy of God! Now, as a response to God’s radical love and embrace, Wesley wants to do the same for all people, including praying for his enemies and publicly testifying to these actions—not a private practice, but rather a private and public expression of God’s love in his life.
Wesley’s Aldersgate experience is indicative of a theological and ethical paradigm shift in which Wesley was moved by God’s love to love others in an attempt to replicate God’s character and acceptance demonstrated to him. And for this reason, his ethical reasoning may be described in Christian ethics as character or virtue ethics. Furthermore, his ministerial work and his writings seem to corroborate this fundamental shift in his methodological approach. For example, before Aldersgate, Wesley practiced personal spiritual disciplines and became quite active in social work, but reflecting on these years at Oxford as a member of the Holy Club, Wesley wrote,
More especially, we call upon those who for many years saw our manner of life at Oxford. These well know that “after the straitest sect of our religion we lived [like] Pharisees”; and that the grand objection to us for all those years was, the being righteous overmuch; the reading, fasting, praying, denying ourselves,—the going to church, and to the Lord’s table,—the relieving the poor, visiting those that were sick and in prison, instructing the ignorant, and labouring to reclaim the wicked,—more than was necessary for salvation. These were our open, flagrant crimes, from the year 1729 to the year 1737. (8:29)
Therefore, and by his own admission, his work during the Oxford years reflected a legalistic (Pharisaic) and deontological tendency as his ethical and moral impulse, which reiterates the methodological shift and the striking contrast in his life and ministry. Wesley’s emphasis on integrating personal experience and convictions with public and social manifestations of them is not just the basis for his personal morality and ethical paradigm; Wesley also takes this approach to critique the philosophers of his time, as stated in one of his sermons:
But how great is the number of those who, allowing religion to consist of two branches,—our duty to God, and our duty to our neighbour,—entirely forget the first part, and put the second part for the whole,—for the entire duty of man! Thus almost all men of letters, both in England, France, Germany, yea, and all the civilized countries of Europe, extol humanity to the skies, as the very essence of religion. To this the great triumvirate, Rousseau, Voltaire, and David Hume, have contributed all their labours, sparing no pains to establish a religion which should stand on its own foundation, independent on any revelation whatever; yea, not supposing even the being of a God. So leaving Him, if he has any being, to himself, they have found out both a religion and a happiness which have no relation at all to God, nor any dependence upon him. It is no wonder that this religion should grow fashionable, and spread far and wide in the world. But call it humanity, virtue, morality, or what you please, it is neither better nor worse than Atheism. Men hereby wilfully and designedly put asunder what God has joined,—the duties of the first and the second table. It is separating the love of our neighbour from the love of God. (7:270—71)
In this paragraph, although Wesley uses deontological language, he offers a critique of the humanistic ethical and philosophical methods that promote an anthropocentric view of life and place value in being “good” to others for their sake. For Wesley, this approach is flawed because it ignores God as the main source of love and goodness, and God’s nature and character, which are centered in the importance of relationships—with God and with one another. Wesley’s emphasis on relationships and God as the ultimate source of love provides the core of his ethical system.
Wesleyan Ethics: Key Elements
Although love of God and love of neighbor are general themes in John Wesley’s sermons and journal entries, in a detailed look at these general themes one can easily identify unique elements and contributions that in turn provide the foundation for his view of theology and ethical systems. Such elements are the image of God in humans, universal grace and salvation, personal and social holiness, and the importance of free human will.
The image of God, according to Wesley, is the central point of understanding salvation and the human condition after the fall of humankind. Wesley uses the image of God to highlight the state of perfection and the harmony present between the Creator and all created beings, of which humans are an important part. The image of God provides the moral framework of reference to evaluate our existence. Evidence of this is found in Wesley’s sermon “The New Birth,” in which he says,
Why must we be born again? What is the foundation of this doctrine? The foundation of it lies near as deep as the creation of the world; in the scriptural account whereof we read, “And God,” the three-one God, “said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him. Not barely in his natural image, a picture of his own immortality; a spiritual being, endued with understanding, freedom of will, and various affections; nor merely in his political image, the governor of this lower world, having “dominion over the fishes of the sea, and over all the earth”; but chiefly in his moral image; which, according to the Apostle, is “righteousness and true holiness.” In this image of God was man made. “God is love”: Accordingly, man at his creation was full of love; which was the sole principle of all his tempers, thoughts, words, and actions. God is full of justice, mercy, and truth; so was man as he came from the hands of his Creator. God is spotless purity; and so man was in the beginning pure from every sinful blot. (6:66)
For Wesley, the original state of creation depicts God’s character in relationship to the universe and particularly to humans, and it is this depiction that provides the point of departure and arrival—departure in the sense in which it provides the initial setting of the narrative, a state of perfect harmony later marred by the fall of humanity, and arrival in providing the target and ultimate goal for the Christian community as part of the redemption and restoration of the current (and temporal) social order and personal condition. In this way, Wesley argues that the goal of salvation (and holiness) is precisely the restoration of the perfect and harmonious state, the point of arrival and departure; thus, our responsibility is to reflect, to the best of our ability and relying in God’s grace, this general state of moral perfection, but particularly “the moral image of God,” which is, according to Wesley, fulfilled in loving God and neighbor. However, this fulfillment requires human action, intentionality, and willingness to do so; it is something that occurs not by divine imposition, but rather implies the use of human free will in using it in accordance with God’s will and character.
For Wesley, humans are morally accountable for their actions because they have a choice between accepting God’s invitation and following their fallen desires. Again, the image of God through prevenient grace makes this possible, when God provides grace (prevenient and irresistible) to all humans; they acquire moral attributes and the capacity to discern between the choices above. Wesley affirms that God is the author of this work, but he also affirms that it requires human participation in the form of a moral choice. At the same time that Wesley’s concept of prevenient grace makes humans morally responsible for their choices, it also makes them valuable and worthy of dignity and respect. If all humans have a glimpse of the moral image of God, and if all humans have received God’s grace, then there is something intrinsically good in them. And finally, if God sees value in each of them, then in our deliberations and actions we should express the same kind of appreciation, respect, and protection for the dignity of all humans because of their God-given condition.
Following his methodological approach, Wesley affirms that all humans have the potential to be saved, and those who already are saved have an additional moral responsibility: to strive and move toward Christian perfection. The word perfection in moral theory is a difficult and controversial one that leads to wide-ranging views; however, for Wesley the term is grounded in love and in rela-tionships—in the practical aspects, not so much in the theoretical ones. Wesley places a second stop in the journey toward the point of arrival, which he indentifies as Christian perfection, entire sanctification, or holiness (he uses other terms, but these more frequently). In this second stop, the Christian is moved by God’s grace to follow and reflect God’s character in demonstrating divine love, not only accepting God’s love in a personal way but also applying the same redemptive love toward others and, in doing so, looking for ways to alleviate the social conditions of those in need. Again, this aspect is personal, but also it is social; it requires the support of the Christian community, and it implies actions that move Christians to enter relationships with all other creatures, as was reflected in the original state. Thus, Wesleyan ethics is not simply another theory about moral choices; rather, it is a bold challenge to live a life that reflects God’s character in community for the well-being of the community at large, always striving and moving toward the point of arrival and departure as the moral framework of reference.
See also Holiness; Love, Love Command; Neighbor, Neighbor Love; Perfection; Salvation; Sanctification; Virtue Ethics
Bibliography
Dunning, H. Christian Ethics in Wesleyan Perspective: Refleeting the Divine Image. InterVarsity, 1998; Long, D. S. John Wesley’s Moral Theology: The Quest for God and Goodness. Kingswood, 2005; Marquardt, M. John Wesley’s Social Ethics: Praxis and Principles. Abingdon, 1992; Weber, T. Politics in the Order of Salvation: New Directions in Wesleyan Political Ethics. Kingswood, 2001; Wesley, J. The Works of John Wesley. 3rd ed. 14 vols in 7. Baker, 1998.
Hugo Magallanes
A widow is a woman who has outlived her husband and not remarried.
Widows in Scripture
Although the word widow and its cognates appear in the Bible 115 times (NRSV), widows have been understudied among biblical scholars. No overall picture of the widow in her ancient Hebrew or Greco-Roman contexts exists. Interestingly, the NRSV has no references to “widower.” In a patriarchal society, where the father was head of the household and women were in some sense the property of the husband, a man did not suffer “widowerhood.” Either he had more than one wife or he soon found another. A husband’s loss of his spouse did not have for him the economic effect that it had on widowed women.
In ancient patriarchal kin-group societies, the two expected roles for females were as a virgin in her father’s house and later as a wife married into the household of her husband and father-in-law. In each case, she had a male or males to provide for her economically and a social system in which to belong. A woman was not always considered a widow unless both husband and father-in-law were deceased (Hiebert 128).
In the OT a woman with no male protector lost not only her financial security but also her social connections. In a culture organized by family systems she was truly marginalized. At least sixteen of the OT references to widows link them with orphans and resident aliens, the latter also lacking a local kin group for socioeconomic support.
Yahweh becomes their male advocate, calling on the larger Hebrew community to look after them (see Exod. 22:22; Deut. 10:18; 14:29; 16:11, 14; 24:17, 19-21; 25:7; 26:12-13).
The prophets reinforce these laws. A godly Israelite will care for widows and orphans (Isa. 1:17, 23; 10:2; Jer. 7:6; 22:3; 49:11; Ezek. 22:7; Zech. 7:10; Mal. 3:5). Laments from Psalms, Job, and Lamentations back this up (Job 24:21; 31:16, 18; Pss. 68:5; 94:6; 146:9; Lam. 5:3).
For a young woman widowed without children, levirate marriage as described in Deut. 25:5-10 provided a communal, patrilineal solution (see Gen. 38; Ruth 4). The woman will remain in the family (Deut. 25:5). Her husband’s brother will marry her, and her first son will be considered the son of the deceased man.
Since the OT understanding of widowhood implies a woman bereft of her socioeconomic kin group, the term widow could apply to any female in similar circumstances, such as divorced women. Since the OT is silent on the effects of divorce upon women, perhaps they are already considered to be widows. Divorce (see Deut. 24:1-4) may have been prevalent because purity laws and honor/ shame values held women responsible for nearly any sexual behavior outside of marriage.
However, descriptive texts about widows present them as the opposite of helpless victims. Tamar (Gen. 38), Naomi and Ruth (Ruth), and Abigail (1 Sam. 25) come across as intelligent, resourceful women who go after what they want and achieve it. Boldest of all is the heroine Judith, a widow who saved her people by seducing and then beheading Holofernes, their Assyrian oppressor (Jdt. 8-16).
The importance of belonging to a kinship group, however patriarchally structured, for economic support continues in the NT. The plight of any unattached woman—widowed, divorced, or forced into prostitution—was potentially desperate. According to Jesus, scribes were “devouring widows’ houses” (Mark 12:40; Luke 20:47).
Of the Gospels, however, only Luke discusses widows with the same concern shown in the OT. With his interests in both women and economics, Luke depicts widows as the exemplary poor, depending on God alone for help (i.e., 2:37; 4:2526; 7:12; 21:2-3) and being resourceful in getting their needs met (18:1-6). Luke introduces other women, some “sinners” and others, who appear as independent women in their own right (e.g., 7:36-8:3).
Such inclusiveness carries into Luke’s second volume, where the believing community now shares possessions so that “there was not a needy person among them” (Acts 4:34). As in the community begun by Jesus, widows, the divorced, former prostitutes, and other unattached women are no longer poor and marginalized but rather are full members in the fictive kinship group. The work of widows is highlighted in, for example, the raising of Tabitha (Acts 9:36-41). A community of production as well as consumption is in view, where the disciple Tabitha appears to employ a group of widows in her tailor shop. Rather than receiving handouts, they are contributing members of the believing community, not dependent on a male head of household.
That not all single women were poor and helpless is also attested in 1 Cor. 7, where Paul counters cultural traditions by preferring that the unmarried and widows remain single as he is (1 Cor. 7:8) so that they can focus more on “the affairs of the Lord” (1 Cor. 7:32). Paul’s circle of friends and co-workers includes a number of women named without reference to a male (e.g., Rom. 16:1, 6, 12, 15; 1 Cor. 1:11; Phil. 4:2).
Widows surface in 1 Timothy, a manual of church discipline structured as a letter from Paul, though it appears to be set in Ephesus at a later time than Paul. Here, prescriptions restricting women may attest to their rising leadership in that church. The writer forbids women to teach (1 Tim. 2:12) and severely limits the definition (and therefore support) of “widows” (1 Tim. 5:3-16).
Accordingly, the term widow in the Bible has different connotations, depending on literary and cultural contexts. One of the one hand, in a patriarchal, patrilineal, clan-based society, women without male relatives to support them usually are poor and socially marginalized. The larger community is expected to care for them. On the other hand, for women with sufficient means, widowhood could encourage resourcefulness and bring new freedom and independence. According to Acts, in a Jesus community where goods were shared, none were in need. Thus, widows (all unattached women) were no longer objects of charity or pressured to marry for economic support and thus were able to assume honorable roles of service and leadership.
Widows in Contemporary Culture In contrast to ancient societies, modern women in the West benefit from the democratic concept of “all people created equal,” which derives at some level from Gen. 1 and the inclusiveness of Jesus’ gospel. In a democracy, however imperfect, women have more choices and a wider range of roles. Thus it is not possible to make a one-to-one application of either prescriptive or descriptive texts about widows in today’s world.
However, many nations of the world today are not democracies. As a gender, the majority of women are disadvantaged in authoritarian, patriarchal cultures. The global people of God are called to care for “widows, orphans, and resident aliens,” which today translates into women and dependent children without male support, and also refugees, the majority of whom are women and children. Christians should support both religious and secular organizations working to relieve the plight of these three groups of needy people. For example, it is now recognized that the well-being of a society advances most quickly when its girls are educated, and microfinancing has been far more successful among women than men because women spend their profits on their children’s welfare.
Democracies are far from perfect as well. Economically, women’s earning power and wealth lag behind those of men. When a divorce occurs, the man’s income usually rises, but the woman’s usually falls.
What of widows in the United States? When a husband dies, the American widow’s disposable income decreases by 30 percent. The rate of poverty (calculated as 50 percent of median income) among those aged sixty-five and older increases among racial minorities, the more advanced in age, and those living alone. More women in all these categories are poor—African American women at three times the rate of white women, the poorest being Hispanic women living alone. Moreover, poverty among the elderly in the United States is higher than in other industrialized countries, again with the poverty rate more advanced in the case of elderly women (Matcha 226).
Reasons for the feminization of poverty still reflect a male-dominated society. They include
(1) economic dependence of women on men,
(2) family and work history prior to retirement, (3) division of labor where women take time off for children and elder care, (4) discrimination in the workforce, and (5) costs of caring for an ill spouse.
Although a liberal democracy offers more choices and opportunities for single women, our social structures still privilege males and feminize poverty. Women living alone (or with dependent children) would be helped by belonging to a caring community, preferably not as objects of charity but rather in a reciprocal relationship of social and economic sharing.
The law and the prophets still cry out to warn the people of God that their righteousness depends on their concern and care for “the least of these”—widows, orphans, refugees. In each changing cultural context our task is to discern who they are and how best to care for them.
See also Charity, Works of; Marriage and Divorce; Poverty and Poor; Singleness; Women, Status of
Bibliography
Finger, R. Of Widows and Meals: Communal Meals in the Book of Acts. Eerdmans 2007; Frick, F. “Widows.” Pages 197-99 in Women in Scripture: A Dictionary of Named and Unnamed Women in the Hebrew Bible, the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books, and the New Testament, ed. C. Meyers. Eerdmans 2001; idem. “Widows in the Hebrew Bible: A Transactional Approach.” Pages 139-51 in A Feminist Companion to Exodus and Deuteronomy, ed. A. Brenner. FCB 6. Sheffield Academic Press, 1994; Hiebert, P. “ ‘When Shall Help Come to Me?’ The Biblical Widow.” Pages 125-41 in Gender and Difference in Ancient Israel, ed. P. Day. Fortress, 1989; Hillier, S., and B. Barrow. Aging: The Individual and Society. Wadsworth, 2007; Matcha, D. The Sociology of Aging: An International Perspective. Sloan Publishing, 2007; Thurston, B. The Widows: A Women’s Ministry in the Early Church. Fortress, 1989.
Reta Halteman Finger Will, Free See Free Will and Determinism