Essays
Proactive Morality (2005) - Daniel G. Deffenbaugh
What is hateful to you
Do not do to your neighbor.
Talmud Shabbat 31A
In everything do to others as you
would have them do to you;
for this is the law and the prophets.
Matthew 6:12
Hardly a day goes by that we do not hear some discussion about morality and leadership, whether among our elected officials in Washington, or over the coffee counters in small town diners across the nation. It seems to be an unspoken rule among Americans — and perhaps more so in this country than in others — that those who lead us must be men and women of singular character. They must demonstrate moral fortitude in all things and thereby provide examples for us, their followers and supporters, who seem more likely, and more forgivably, to falter on our own way. The controversy over displaying the Ten Commandments on public properties seems to stem, in part, from a general feeling among many in this country that we have somehow lost our way. We need to be reminded of some of the basic principles that have been the presumed standards of American virtue for over two centuries. What gets lost in this debate, however, is the fact that in the Christian tradition, the Decalogue is only the first step on the road toward establishing a society marked by the ideals of peace and justice. Consider the very subtle but momentous philosophical revolution that took place over 2000 years ago when a Galilean peasant challenged the status quo by encouraging his followers to see the moral imperative in a new light.
In first-century Palestine, it was common among devout Jews to maintain ritual purity, and thus righteousness, by the observation of scores of detailed proscriptions and regulations. Most of these were prohibitive in nature, elaborations on the Ten Commandments that had developed since the days of Moses. When confronted with the question of how to honor the Sabbath, for example, teachers of the law provided an expanded version of the basic principle: do not walk more than a certain distance on this day, lest you affront the Lord in your labor; do not light a candle; do not do this; do not do that. By the time Jesus was born, there were over 600 of these requirements for the strict observance of the law, most of which involved refraining from certain deeds or actions. Stifle your activity, the argument went, and you will be less likely to offend God. And this is certainly an acceptable way of doing things for, indeed, some human actions do need to be restrained. But checking certain behaviors only provides half the picture for what it means to be truly human, as Jesus, and the Hebrew prophets before him, knew so well.
Throughout the history of Israel there were many lazy attempts on the part of God's people to live righteously merely by following the rules, by meeting all the requirements of not doing this or not doing that. The greatest temptation was to believe that one's actions had little consequence beyond his or her own life. As long as one worshiped God in God's holy place, and sought forgiveness for wrongs committed, all would be well. But all was not well, and the Hebrew prophets consistently chided the people for their presumptuous complacency. Consider, for instance, God's words to the Israelites, as recorded in the book of Amos (and assess their relevance for us today):
I hate, I despise your festivals,
and I take no delight in your
solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt
offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of
your fatted animals
I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your
songs;
I will not listen to the melody
of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an
ever-flowing stream (5:21-24).
In a similar vein, reflect on the simplicity of Micah's rhetorical question to the people of Judah who had forgotten their covenant responsibility:
He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of
you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God? (6:8).
It is this prophetic tradition that we have to keep in mind when we consider the subtle change that Jesus proposed to the scribes and Pharisees of his day, men with whom he had less quarrel than we have often been led to believe. Indeed, the conflict between Jesus and the religious leaders was in fact a rather old one, and it has continued right up to the very present. The question for consideration and debate was this: is morality more a function of what we should not do, or should we instead focus on what must be done? Is it about suppressing the human will, or encouraging human creativity in pursuit of the good? Naturally, morality is a two-sided coin, and to respond by excluding altogether one of the two options is to fall victim to extremist thinking. But if we were to toss this coin a hundred times, would we come up with more "thou shalts," or a surfeit of "thou shalt nots"? Jesus' answer to this question is very clear, and it summarizes concisely and perfectly the law and the prophets: do to others as you would have them do to you. In other words, "thou shalt do the good." Certainly this is a much riskier proposition than simply lying back and restraining oneself, being passive on the road to holiness, but it is nevertheless worthy of all that we are as men and women created in the image of God. So in addition to suppressing certain words or deeds, Jesus argues, we cannot — we must not — forsake our truest vocation as human beings: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God.
In the essays that follow we will be introduced to the question of moral leadership: what it is, what it is not, how to recognize it when we see it, how we might best emulate it. Perhaps more importantly we will be asked to reflect on the lives of men and women who demonstrated exemplary moral leadership in the twentieth century. What is distinctive about each of these individuals is the fact that their moral character consisted less in what they refrained from doing, and more in what they dared to accomplish. They were not afraid or daunted by the obstacles that stood in the way of their human vocation. They all practiced what might best be called a "proactive morality." In so doing, they claimed their place among the likes of Jesus of Nazareth and the great Hebrew prophets of the first millennium BCE. And so we need to consider their lives. In a society where the emphasis seems perpetually to be shifting in the direction of restraint and "thou shalt not," it is instructive for us to keep before us those who chose to enter the Kingdom of God through the narrow gate. May they challenge and encourage us as we explore what it means for each of us to be the kind of moral leader we are called to be.
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Proactive Morality (2005) - Daniel G. Deffenbaugh
What is hateful to you
Do not do to your neighbor.
Talmud Shabbat 31A
In everything do to others as you
would have them do to you;
for this is the law and the prophets.
Matthew 6:12
Hardly a day goes by that we do not hear some discussion about morality and leadership, whether among our elected officials in Washington, or over the coffee counters in small town diners across the nation. It seems to be an unspoken rule among Americans — and perhaps more so in this country than in others — that those who lead us must be men and women of singular character. They must demonstrate moral fortitude in all things and thereby provide examples for us, their followers and supporters, who seem more likely, and more forgivably, to falter on our own way. The controversy over displaying the Ten Commandments on public properties seems to stem, in part, from a general feeling among many in this country that we have somehow lost our way. We need to be reminded of some of the basic principles that have been the presumed standards of American virtue for over two centuries. What gets lost in this debate, however, is the fact that in the Christian tradition, the Decalogue is only the first step on the road toward establishing a society marked by the ideals of peace and justice. Consider the very subtle but momentous philosophical revolution that took place over 2000 years ago when a Galilean peasant challenged the status quo by encouraging his followers to see the moral imperative in a new light.
In first-century Palestine, it was common among devout Jews to maintain ritual purity, and thus righteousness, by the observation of scores of detailed proscriptions and regulations. Most of these were prohibitive in nature, elaborations on the Ten Commandments that had developed since the days of Moses. When confronted with the question of how to honor the Sabbath, for example, teachers of the law provided an expanded version of the basic principle: do not walk more than a certain distance on this day, lest you affront the Lord in your labor; do not light a candle; do not do this; do not do that. By the time Jesus was born, there were over 600 of these requirements for the strict observance of the law, most of which involved refraining from certain deeds or actions. Stifle your activity, the argument went, and you will be less likely to offend God. And this is certainly an acceptable way of doing things for, indeed, some human actions do need to be restrained. But checking certain behaviors only provides half the picture for what it means to be truly human, as Jesus, and the Hebrew prophets before him, knew so well.
Throughout the history of Israel there were many lazy attempts on the part of God's people to live righteously merely by following the rules, by meeting all the requirements of not doing this or not doing that. The greatest temptation was to believe that one's actions had little consequence beyond his or her own life. As long as one worshiped God in God's holy place, and sought forgiveness for wrongs committed, all would be well. But all was not well, and the Hebrew prophets consistently chided the people for their presumptuous complacency. Consider, for instance, God's words to the Israelites, as recorded in the book of Amos (and assess their relevance for us today):
I hate, I despise your festivals,
and I take no delight in your
solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt
offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of
your fatted animals
I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your
songs;
I will not listen to the melody
of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an
ever-flowing stream (5:21-24).
In a similar vein, reflect on the simplicity of Micah's rhetorical question to the people of Judah who had forgotten their covenant responsibility:
He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of
you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God? (6:8).
It is this prophetic tradition that we have to keep in mind when we consider the subtle change that Jesus proposed to the scribes and Pharisees of his day, men with whom he had less quarrel than we have often been led to believe. Indeed, the conflict between Jesus and the religious leaders was in fact a rather old one, and it has continued right up to the very present. The question for consideration and debate was this: is morality more a function of what we should not do, or should we instead focus on what must be done? Is it about suppressing the human will, or encouraging human creativity in pursuit of the good? Naturally, morality is a two-sided coin, and to respond by excluding altogether one of the two options is to fall victim to extremist thinking. But if we were to toss this coin a hundred times, would we come up with more "thou shalts," or a surfeit of "thou shalt nots"? Jesus' answer to this question is very clear, and it summarizes concisely and perfectly the law and the prophets: do to others as you would have them do to you. In other words, "thou shalt do the good." Certainly this is a much riskier proposition than simply lying back and restraining oneself, being passive on the road to holiness, but it is nevertheless worthy of all that we are as men and women created in the image of God. So in addition to suppressing certain words or deeds, Jesus argues, we cannot — we must not — forsake our truest vocation as human beings: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God.
In the essays that follow we will be introduced to the question of moral leadership: what it is, what it is not, how to recognize it when we see it, how we might best emulate it. Perhaps more importantly we will be asked to reflect on the lives of men and women who demonstrated exemplary moral leadership in the twentieth century. What is distinctive about each of these individuals is the fact that their moral character consisted less in what they refrained from doing, and more in what they dared to accomplish. They were not afraid or daunted by the obstacles that stood in the way of their human vocation. They all practiced what might best be called a "proactive morality." In so doing, they claimed their place among the likes of Jesus of Nazareth and the great Hebrew prophets of the first millennium BCE. And so we need to consider their lives. In a society where the emphasis seems perpetually to be shifting in the direction of restraint and "thou shalt not," it is instructive for us to keep before us those who chose to enter the Kingdom of God through the narrow gate. May they challenge and encourage us as we explore what it means for each of us to be the kind of moral leader we are called to be.
