SHUTTERSTOCK
Western society has made an abso- lute axiom of individual liberties. No one shall tell others what they must believe, denying, therefore, that there are universal truths upon which to build an integrated ethic. Public mor- als are refused a religious base. Yet Western society strives to do the good. But here is a problem: how can it define general “goodness” when it acknowledges no supreme authority to name the “good” for all? Well, in such a democracy the “good” derives from tenets that peo- ple accept instinctively, and which few would earnestly dispute. A soci- ety can build common arguments for its “good” only upon the principles with which most people agree. Call them the “democratic ethic.” And as they are common denominators, they are not antagonistic to Christian prin- ciples—just watered-down versions. And that’s a danger.
Democratic and Christian ethics
are different in kind, not merely in degree.
The three essential command- ments of the democratic ethic are nice, not malignant. They are com- posed of good intentions—to which my church has lately and passionately appealed. But if these are the only commandments we commit to, then we are not a church. Form without substance, and goodness without God. 1. Thou shalt be tolerant. I place this first because it is the
obligation of all to all. It is a direct derivative of our liberties, much praised as a virtuous thing, for it is the least a citizen ought to do for another citizen: live and let live. If my neigh- bor’s lifestyle does me no material harm, toleration will not interfere or pass a public judgment. 2. Thou shalt be kind. This one’s a little more difficult. Citizens of a superior character may rise above the passive goodness of toleration to an active goodness of personal kindness, which both sees and seeks to ease the suffering of oth- ers. It feeds the hungry, advocates for the oppressed, labors for justice, that no one be deprived of physical needs or human dignities or of freedom. These two commandments enjoy biblical support. “Do justice,” says Micah, “love mercy.” But this, too, is a danger, for it may console our Christian souls that the democratic ethic is Christian at bottom when in fact its very nature is to mute matters of faith because it subtracts God from ethical discourse. The real force in Micah’s verse is that the Lord God both shows us what is the good and requires the same goodness from us. Apart from God our goodness is not God’s good.
In this regard be especially wary of the third democratic commandment: 3. Thou shalt be compassionate. To be compassionate is to “suffer with” a sister or brother. It is sympa- thy in the extremest sense. Kindness
needn’t experience personal pain. But compassion shares her hurt. The sacrifice here is more than that of time, possessions, energies. Serious saints of contemporary society are genuinely riven with the wounds of the abused, are poor with the poor, do love their neighbors with a selfless commitment. This may be the high- est moral response of the democratic ethic. It is an excellence with which I cannot argue. Indeed, it is Christlike. Then what is lacking? What is the danger in making this our highest moral response? What could be better than to be Christlike? Why, Christ himself! Jesus is infi- nitely better than the best imitation. Look: Jesus need play no role in the democratic commandments. Their foundation is the unjudging, generous and sympathetic human heart. In fact, it thinks the name of Jesus is an embarrassment. There is nothing eternal or heavenly about this “goodness”—however Christlike it appears. Salvation isn’t an issue. What lasting good can human compassion accomplish? Its good- ness dies when we do. This is the difference we must maintain between the world and ourselves: that all we do is done in and by and for the love of Jesus. We are not merely like Christ. The very spirit of Jesus abides within us. When we do well, it is not because we are by nature good but because we obey that Christ who redeemed our fallen natures. Through us the living God seeks and serves and saves the lost, the oppressed, the hungry and the haunted. We do not so much love them as we love Jesus, and he loves them.
Or again: We love them because we see in them the image of our Lord. It’s not enough to strive for justice as though the striving itself were goodness. It must be a direct conse- quence of the cross of Christ (the one, true, victorious source of every work against oppression, because it first defeated sin, our own that we might defeat the sin of the world). And Christ’s compassion?
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