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âWe Are His Workmanshipâ
A Theocentric Ethic
âWoe to us if we should be found to be our own creator, inventor, and author of our own future well-being.â
Johann Georg Hamann
âWhat should I do?â For many, that is the central question of the moral life. That can certainly be an important question in the midst of this situation or that. A coworker steals from the company you both work for. Do you tell the boss? A young couple finds it next to impossible to get pregnant. Is in vitro fertilization the solution? A political action committee presses for a state referendum banning gay marriage. Is that the Christian thing to do? The question, âWhat should I do?â seems to be at the center of so many moral issues.
For others, however, another question has surfaced in discussions of moral philosophy in general and Christian ethics in particular. A strong emphasis on matters of character and virtue finds expression not in the question, âWhat should I do?â but âWho am I?â The significance of persistent traits expressed across the days, week, months, and years of our lives are of tremendous importance for what the moral life is all about (and will be explored later in this book), but there is an even more important question for the task of Christian ethics.
As important as moral decisions are, Oswald Bayer insists that we should not begin any exploration of Christian ethics with the standard question, âWhat should I do?â Instead, we should ask, ââWhat has been given to us?â For human action does not start with itself; it draws its life from freedom that has already been given.â Christian ethics begins with neither our action nor our character, but by celebrating the divine initiative and agenda.
In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul offers an ethical vision that begins, not with the question âWhat should I do?â or even âWho am I?â but by emphasizing what God is doing. That is, the vision of the moral life in Ephesians is fundamentally tied to what it has to say about the character, actions, and will of God made known through Jesus Christ. Clearly this outlook differs from many other approaches to the moral life, particularly any moral strategy that creates and separates something called âethicsâ from something called âreligion.â What this means is that for Christians to talk about the sort of life we believe God intends for humanity, we have to talk about matters that go by the designation âtheology.â
To emphasize theology, however, is likely to occasion grumbling on the part of some. Gordon Graham observes what he considers to be a general trend of retreat by Western Christianity at the turn of the twenty-first century: âTheologians and believers more generally have lost confidence in the relevance of Christian theology to the explanatory endeavors of intellectual inquiry.â Hardly anyone, he insists, âconfidently deploys theology in the discussion of intellectual problems in cosmology, evolutionary biology, historiography, jurisprudence, or metaphysics.â This abandonment of theology is no more evident, says Graham, than in the discipline called âChristian ethics.â In this arena, there is the rejection of a larger theological outlook that could provide any comprehensive frame of reference for an all-embracing vision of reality. Rather, the view of the nineteenth-century mathematician Henri Laplace, that âGod is an hypothesis of which the scientist has no need,â is now apparently endorsed even by the Christian moralist who would construe Christianity as âbut a code by which to live, with, perhaps, âradicalâ implications for social criticism as well as for the behavior of individuals.â
What accounts for the willingness to reduce the Christian faith to matters of âethics,â according to Graham, is the widely held assumption that we live in a pluralistic age where the claims of the Christian faith concerning God, Christ, redemption, the Holy Spirit, the Christian community of the church, eschatology, etc., have no public significance. In such a context, if Christianity wants to have any genuine relevance in the world today, it will not be âin any theological-cum-metaphysical explanation of existence and experience that Christian theology has hitherto been thought uniquely to supply.â Instead, âif Christianity is to speak to the contemporary world it is [only] in its ethic that a meaningful message is to be found.â In this way, as Stephen Long puts it, âThe discipline of Christian ethics becomes one more immanent anthropological discourse that incessantly addresses questions of justice, rights, care, autonomy, and the need for religion to have a role in the public square. But seldom does Christian ethics actually engage with the theology of the moral life, that is, with what difference it might actually make for understanding the moral life if the God whom Christian tradition confesses as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were true.â
It is a great irony that for many the obligation Christian faith imposes on us is to seek influence in the world by offering a view of moral practices and obligations independent of the story of Godâs redemptive work, of the importance of worship and discipleship, of a hope in Godâs future that rests its confidence in Godâs past. What Christian ethics must be (some say), if it is to have any contemporary significance in todayâs pluralistic environment, is anything but Christian. What Christian ethics must be is about positions on this or that issue employing arguments that are expressible in terms that any clear-thinking person can affirm so that such positions can be formulated as policy enacted through legislative means, thus enforceable by the power of the state. Matters of personal agency, the formation of character, the shaping of moral vision, and the painful and sometimes slow acquisition of skills and disciplines that might be needed to sustain a particular form of life are all irrelevant. Arguments that justify policies implemented through the power of the state are all that are needed. Stanley Hauerwas and Samuel Wells describe this as the strategy of âconventional ethics,â an effort given over to the task of âtrying to make a better world without us becoming better people.â Hauerwas and Wells insist that ânot only is this task impossible, but it is neglecting its chief resourceâthe way God chooses to form his people.â Wells elsewhere describes the ethical enterprise as âabout forming lives of commitment, rather than informing lives without commitment.â For many, though, the task has become a matter of providing information (telling people what to do) rather than offering transformation (bearing witness to a life-changing gospel). How we have come to this state of affairs requires a look back into important events in European history and philosophy that continue to have significant impact in our world today. Once we have considered features of these forces that have shaped our world, we will hear from Paul in Ephesians how it is that the life God intends for us rests upon Godâs gifts of grace and peace.
Where Are We?
Alasdair MacIntyreâs âDisquieting Suggestionâ
In Walter Millerâs A Canticle for Leibowitz, the young monk Francis, living in a post-nuclear-holocaust world, discovers fragments of paper with scratch marks on them. Eventually those scratch marks are determined to be from the hand of the blessed Saint Leibowitz, a sacred figure from the distant past. Six hundred years earlier, Leibowitz had actually been an engineer associated with the development of the very nuclear weapons that had caused such widespread destruction. Since the worlds of science, knowledge, and education had all been destroyed, though, there was no context available for deciphering the significance of the various words, formulae, and equations that Francis had discovered. Ceaseless debates follow on the meaning of phrases like âcircuit designâ and âTransistorized Control System.â The debates rage endlessly since there is no shared frame of reference that would make the words intelligible; instead the words are simply employed to advance various viewpoints that seek credibility through association with terms that sound authoritative.
Alasdair MacIntyre uses something like this story as a metaphor for what has occurred in our culture. We still use words like âgood,â âbad,â âright,â and âwrong,â but there is no longer ...