"Everything nailed down is coming loose" said the Angel Gabriel, looking down on humanity's moral confusion in Marc Connelly's 1930 play The Green Pastures. This charming American play translates biblical drama into very earthy terms. Gabriel's sad words are as accurate now as they were in 1930.
We live in an age of moral deconstructionism - we fearlessly critique and criticize, dissect and dismantle our culture's conventional wisdom. For example, one of the great running jokes about Unitarian Universalists is that we believe, not in the Ten Commandments, but the Ten Suggestions. "Is it really true we accept the Ten Commandments provided they can be amended at the next annual meeting?"
But that is only the beginning of the fun satirists have had with the Decalogue of Moses, commonly known as the Ten Commandments. In one cartoon Moses says to God, "Maybe I'd better deliver just the first ten now and see how it goes down."
In another he comes down from Mt. Sinai with the Ten Commandments for two people waiting anxiously: "It's just a first draft but it seems that no one is going to get away with anything!" Another caricature shows a man and a woman standing outside a church looking at its bulletin board: "Special this week: Observe any eight of the ten commandments." He says to her, "There must be a limit to permissiveness."
But my favorite is two ancient berobed wise men looking at the stone tablet bearing the Decalogue, one saying to the other, "'Comandments' is misspelled."
Why is it that moderns have such fun parodying this ancient ethical code? Partly because we find it hard to live by. It is uncompromising. First, we have the so-called "spiritual commandments" dealing with humanity's relationship to God - have no other gods, do not use the Lord's name in vain, do not worship idols, keep the Sabbath holy. Then we have a transition, a positive commandment for a change, honor your father and your mother.
Finally, we have five no-nonsense prohibitions: thou shalt not commit adultery; thou shalt not steal; thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor; and thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's possessions, including thy neighbor's wife (evidently the commandments were primarily for men, not women).
The Tennessee state senate recently passed a resolution that prods local schools, homes and businesses to post copies of the Ten Commandments in prominent places. About time, forgetting that this is probably a violation of church-state separation. It seems that most people in one poll could name no more than two of the ten, and many weren't too happy when told about the others.
Are the Ten Commandments out of date? If so, how can we nail down some ethical convictions when, morally, everything nailed down is coming loose?
The Decalogue appears twice in the Hebrew scriptures, Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5, the products of two different schools of thought.
Ancient editors finessed this redundancy by having Moses break the first set of tablets in a fit of anger at the Israelites who were worshipping the golden calf.
The Ten Commandments were a kind of constitutional law for a wandering people. Biblical scholars believe there were ten to correspond to the ten fingers, thus making them easier to memorize for public worship. They stand as a major ethical step forward in their time, some 3000 years ago.
To what extent are they still instructive? Most of us would reject a jealous god who equates blasphemy with murder. This Jehovah is not a user-friendly god, but a vain and vengeful one who promises retribution for every violation of the commandments. This god is the Great Ethical Enforcer.
There are other ethical problems with God. Human slavery is simply assumed. "Thou shalt not kill," except that God helped Joshua tumble the walls of Jericho to enable the ensuing slaughter. Adultery is condemned, but one of the Bible's great adulterers is the beloved King David.
Stealing is prohibited, but Jehovah didn't hesitate to sanction and facilitate the conquest and sacking of Canaan. That biblical God has a great deal to answer for.
Nonetheless, the Decalogue stands as a monument in ethical history. In words the Unitarian poet James Russell Lowell used for the motto of the American Copyright League: "In vain we call old notions fudge, and bend our conscience to our dealing; the Ten Commandments will not budge, and stealing will continue stealing."
It is easy to caricature attempts to modernize the Ten Commandments. One fundamentalist magazine criticized liberal religious ethics in a cartoon showing a scowling Moses holding the stone tablet, and an eager stonecutter saying to him, "Aaron (Moses' brother) said perhaps you'd let us reduce them to "act responsibly in love."
Others have suggested modifications like "Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy, unless something comes up." "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor - at least not on a regular basis."
"Honor thy father and thy mother, usually." "Thou shalt not get caught." "Thou shalt not get involved." And then, in our free society, some would argue for "voluntary compliance," any other restriction on freedom being unseemly.
Most of the Ten Commandments are negative, though we can also understand that every moral "no" echoes a moral "yes." The admonition against killing points to the sanctity of human life; while we no longer execute adulterers, the marriage covenant is to be taken seriously; while we are not supposed to steal, the larger value is justice.
The moral of the Ten Commandment story is to understand it as an historical benchmark, setting forth fundamental, if sometimes abstract, rules for human conduct. The Decalogue, however, does not help us in getting from abstractions to the often ambiguous problems of every day.
Take the case of Dr. Timothy Quill, whose case on doctor-aid-in dying came before the U.S. Supreme Court last week. (I was not totally surprised to learn that Tim Quill was raised in a Unitarian church).
The simple prescription "thou shalt not kill" is not very helpful when flesh and blood, terminally ill, human beings experience excruciating pain and want to end their suffering and their lives.
By all accounts Tim Quill is an extremely competent doctor. Several among you have shared with me stories of his compassion, not only in the controversial doctor-assisted death cases, but in more ordinary cases of human pain and suffering. By my accounts he is also a courageous and prophetic figure, who has risked reputation and career to surface a compelling moral issue.
Some months ago I heard his lecture at the Academy of Medicine. He presented his position with quiet eloquence and sensitivity. Doctor-aid-in-dying is a last resort, when the patient wants to die, when there is an ongoing doctor-patient relationship, when the family and another doctor have been consulted. I agree with him. I find no significant moral distinction between "pulling the plug" on "heroic measures" and initiating pain-killing therapy. The moral intent is identical - to hasten death as relief from intolerable suffering.
During the question and answer period, one young man in a wheelchair with a seeing eye dog, verbally attacked Dr. Quill, accusing him of jeopardizing the lives of handicapped persons. If doctor-assisted suicide (as he called it) is allowed, then we will be on the "slippery slope", and the next step will be euthanizing persons with handicaps. Despite Tim Quill's denial of this reasoning, the young man was not satisfied. A large delegation from the disabled community was at the Supreme Court last week to protest its understanding of euthanasia.
I was disturbed at the young man's attack. I honor his courage in forcefully presenting his views though I disagreed with them. There are dangers abroad for the handicapped community - but they are not from Tim Quill. Dangers do stem from those who would subordinate comprehensive health care to profit; who are more interested in bottom-line morality than in serving human need; who want to reduce taxes more than provide for the common good; and those who are quite willing to attack Tim Quill but more than willing to pull the plug on human services for children and other vulnerable people.
The Quill case illustrates for me the power of "unenforceable obligations." Much of what he does as a doctor and much of what we do as people is either forbidden or required by law. But most of the ethical decisions we make are outside the purview of law or coercion - they are in the realm of unenforceable obligations.
The Ten Commandments had a Great Enforcer, God. Humanity was simply to obey or be punished. For many of us this Great Enforcer concept has lost its power; we no longer believe in God as a Supreme Lawgiver. We have moved beyond the admission of the skeptic Voltaire who wrote, "I want my attorney, my tailor, my servants, even my wife to believe in God, because then I shall be robbed and cuckolded less often." On one occasion he silenced his dinner guests from speaking further about atheism until he had sent his servants out of the room. "Do you want your throats cut tonight?" he chided.
I recall one summer evening many years ago when a Roman Catholic visitor, learning I was a minister, asked about my religion.
When he learned that I neither feared hell nor sought heaven, but believed in "the importance of being good - for nothing," he was incredulous. He said that if he didn't fear eternal punishment or seek eternal reward there would be no telling what he would do. He was bound to the Great Enforcer, not the moral power of unenforceable obligations.
Why do we honor our marriage covenant even when we are at times unhappy? Why do we sacrifice to raise children when that seems hopelessly frustrating? Why do we keep promises even when we could get away with breaking them? Why do we obey the law even when there is little danger of being caught?
Why do we involve ourselves in community service and social action when no one seems to notice and we often fail? And why have people done these things for centuries? No external power is forcing us to meet these obligations; we are truly on our own, not coerced by the "cudgel but an inward music: the irresistible power of unarmed truth, the powerful attraction of its example," in Boris Pasternak's words.
Character is what we are when no one is looking. Character is when we act though it will not do us any particular good. Character is when we respond to our unenforceable obligations to our neighbors.
The Ten Commandments are a valued part of our ethical heritage, however inadequate they may be. But we do need to constantly nail down what we now believe about relating to one another. In my seminar Building Your Own Theology I invite participants to write their own Ten Commandments. I do likewise. Here are ten of my considered convictions, or should we say habits to be learned by highly ethical people:
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