The Decalogue

"If God had been a liberal," someone once wrote, "we wouldn't have the Ten Commandments--we'd have the Ten Suggestions." Interestingly, the quote is used both by critics and defenders of Christianity to make very different points. In using the quote for their respective purposes, both groups miss the mark.

The point of the critics is that Christianity (and presumably Judaism) is a restrictive religion, incompatible with the modern ideal of freedom as unrestricted choice. "The truth is, of course," Chesterton wrote with far more insight, "that the curtness of the Ten Commandments is an evidence, not of the gloom and narrowness of a religion, but, on the contrary, of its liberality and humanity. It is shorter to state the things forbidden than the things permitted: precisely because most things are permitted, and only a few things are forbidden."

That the Ten Commandments are about freedom is evidenced not only by logic but also by their context in the biblical narrative. They were given as a gift to the fledgling nation of Israel upon the Israelites' release from slavery, and are preceded in the narrative by the first redemption song ever documented. The preface to the Decalogue itself, "I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery," similarly suggests that the commandments are not decontextualized imperatives but rather concrete ways of lovingly responding to God's gracious act of deliverance.

Here, as elsewhere in Scripture, ethical commands are grounded in the redemptive acts of God. As the theologians like to say, the indicative precedes the imperative. Or, more simply, we love God because He first loved us.

Placing the Ten Commandments in their historical context, however, not only protects us from the error of the above-mentioned critic. It also protects us from the equal and opposite error of employing the commandments in the service of mere morality. Defenders of the Decalogue too often fail to grasp that the commandments are part of God's progressive self-disclosure, pointing forward to the new covenant's higher standard, "Be ye perfect." Like Christ's impossibly high and holy standards, the Mosaic law shows us not only how to be good, but also that we can't be good. It is not about providing us with a role model so much as pointing us toward a savior.

The enlargement of the law in the new covenant is illustrated nicely by the repentant murderer in C.S. Lewis's The Great Divorce, a fantasy-journey through Heaven and Hell. The murderer, upon encountering an archetypal Pharisee who is pleased with himself but not with his eternal reward, has the task of explaining the subtlety of sin. "Murdering old Jack wasn't the worst thing I did," he admits. "That was the work of a moment and I was half mad when I did it. But I murdered you in my heart, deliberately, for years." The Pharisee, leaning on his own virtue, claims he deserves his rights. "It's not so bad as that," the murderer responds. "I haven't got my rights, or I should not be here. You will not get yours either. You'll get something far better." Indeed, it is knowledge of our neediness that deepens our appreciation of grace.

Needless to say, there is much more that could be said on this central text not only of Scripture but also of all Western Civilization. This year's annual Institute of Biblical Studies, provided by Rev. Dr. Stephen Um of CityLife Church in Boston, is entitled "Gospel Freedom: Ancient Words, Modern Wisdom." His text is the Ten Commandments. On Saturday evening we will be hosting a one-man play of C.S. Lewis's "The Great Divorce," provided by Philadelphia-area actor Tony Lawton.