Part III
Validation of the
Biblical Understanding of Sin
in which it is shown how the Bible fulfills the legitimate intentions of both Augustine and Pelagius and is further vindicated by the facts of everyday experience.
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CHAPTER X
AUGUSTINE’S INTENTIONS FULFILLED
Woe is me, for I am undone. For I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips. -Isaiah 6:5
Within its customary frame of reference the debate between Augustine and Pelagius can never be resolved. Neither side has broken sufficiently with an unbiblical conception of sin. In the Bible the impasse is overcome by the definition of sin as “whatever is opposed to love.” It should be emphasized that without Augustine and the Reformers the biblical conception might have remained permanently obscured. Their polemics against Pelagianism are illumined throughout by this and many other scattered insights which go beyond the limitations of their theological premises. By collating and rearranging these passages one can construct the outline of a definitely biblical theology. Kenneth Kirk has in fact noted this in Augustine’s case. After observing the many insoluble problems in which Augustine’s reasoning traps him, Kirk observes that the germ of their solution is also to be found in his writings:
The solution does not lie, as is often suggested, in his [Augustine’s] ‘skilful analysis’ of the psychology of the will; it is difficult in this regard not to suspect him of ambiguity. It lies in the doctrine that the essence of grace is love, and the essence of man’s salvation that he should become loving. ‘Thou tellest of many ways in which God helps us,’ Augustine writes against Julian of Eclanum, ‘of scriptures, blessings, healings, chastenings, excitations, inspirations; but that He giveth us love and thereby helpeth us, thou sayest not.’ . . . It [love] is the one force in the world which does not bargain; which leaves the recipient absolutely free to reject, accept, or repay. So, if God’s grace is love, its lovingness consists first of all in giving freedom to men and then in keeping them free, if the phrase may be allowed, without any arrière pensée, . . . desiring indeed a return, but never demanding or compelling it . . . . The same power which confers freedom on its recipients also evokes from them - not by contract, nor by force, but by the invincible suasion of a moral appeal,-an answer of love freely given in return.1
This leaven of biblical thinking in Augustine’s thought would probably have remained buried beneath scholastic logic-chopping but for the Reformers’ motto of “back to the Scriptures.” Their de-
1Kenneth E. Kirk, op. cit., pp. 343f.
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termination to recover the original purity of the Gospels informs their own writings with similar passages of well-nigh apostolic power. It also bequeathed to future generations the possibility of the continual rediscovery of the heart of the Christian message. If this process eventually requires a revision of some of their doctrines in the light of a clearer understanding of the Scriptures, the Reformers should be the last to object.
The following pages will show how the Bible provides a viable alternative to both Augustine and Pelagius. Their respective doctrines were developed chiefly for the purpose of guarding against specific errors. They were formulated not so much for what they affirm as for what they deny. With the purposes of both men the Bible largely agrees. It differs in the method of accomplishing them. Its own method fulfills the intentions of each while avoiding their difficulties. Even more than Pelagius, it stresses man’s freedom and responsibility, without ministering to self-righteousness or encouraging a moral “rugged individualism.” Like Augustine, it recognizes the futility of individual self-saving and emphasizes the initiative of God, without disparaging either good works or human nature as such.
With one of Augustine’s aims the Bible does not agree. His purpose in formulating the doctrine of predestination was, at least in part, to emphasize the sovereignty of God over all events. It seemed to him, as to Calvin, an affront to God’s majesty to grant that any human action could have an effect upon him. At this point he is still under the influence of the Greek conception of “God” as “impassible.” No act of man could “condition” God in any way. The God of the Bible, however, has actually chosen to grant men such power. The culmination of its emphasis upon this is, of course, the crucifixion. This point illustrates beautifully the futility of trying to arrive at knowledge of the biblical God, any more than one would arrive at knowledge of another person, by means of a priori deduction. Knowledge of him, like that of other free agents, comes only a posteriori, in consequence of what he has said and done.
To Augustine’s other intentions the Bible readily assents. It shares his aim of establishing the universality of sin; its existence as an objective fact in the fabric of human affairs; its tendency to perpetuate and aggravate itself; a meaningful context in which to speak of the “bondage of the will”; and the inability of men to extricate themselves by their bootstraps from the situation of hardheartedness. If
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the biblical philosophy can achieve these purposes more effectively and by less questionable means, the true Augustinian could only say, “Amen.”
UNIVERSALITY OF SIN
One of Augustine’s primary aims in formulating the doctrine of original sin was to make certain that no man would consider himself exempt from sin. His zeal was undoubtedly stimulated by Pelagius’s contention that it was possible for “good” pagans to have attained perfection even before the time of Christ. Lest any man declare himself to be in fact immune to sin, Augustine ( together with Luther) pronounced human nature sinful in principle. It thus becomes unnecessary even to be acquainted with the facts of a man’s life. He has been labeled a sinner “by definition.”
Even if such a solution did prevent Pelagianism, it would do so at too great a price. The biblical alternative, on the other hand, effectively establishes the universality of sin without in any way impugning the human nature which God created. It does this at a single stroke by putting to every man the simple question, “Do you love God with all your heart and soul and mind, and your neighbor as yourself?” This question suffices to convict the whole world. At this point the Augustinian might interject, “But suppose someone answers yes. Then your whole argument is wrecked.” If anyone does make such a claim, then God knows whether he is telling the truth.
The Augustinian, in the effort to prove the man a liar, resorts to the definition of sin as intrinsic to human nature. But this is to prejudge the case, and if his antagonist has integrity, such an argument will only intensify his resistance. For instead of appealing for validation to an unbiased examination of the facts, the doctrine invents a “fact” ( human depravity) in order to win the debate. The consequence is that to reopen the question becomes itself a manifestation of “sinful human pride.” Anyone who does so is sinful by definition. And this, in effect, is only a subtle form of thought control. Ironically, even though the man who professes to love his neighbor as himself may not be telling the truth, it is he who is doctrinally more correct than his Augustinian adversary. For he continues at least to define sin correctly as the opposite of love, instead of as a constitutional blemish on human nature.
By contrast, the Bible defines human nature as in principle “good”
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because capable of love. The terrible, universal fact, however, is that men do not love. This position actually takes sin far more seriously. It is much more grievous if it need not have been than if it is an inherent defect. Men might have created a psychic milieu and a social structure in which love was fostered. But the grim fact is that they have contrived to stifle it. The result is a human situation in which it is at least partially true of everyone that “his hand will be against every man, and every man’s hand against him” (Genesis 16:12).
OBJECTIVITY OF SIN
The Bible not only puts sin on quite as universal a basis as Augustine but also conceives it as objectively operative both in personal relations and in the structure of society. Where Augustine does so at the cost of impugning the very conditions of human life, however, the biblical alternative rests upon a careful analysis of the corporate character of human existence. Spiritually, morally, and emotionally speaking, there is no such thing as an isolated individual. As the Bible puts it, “We are members one of another” (Romans 12:5; Ephesians 4:25 ), not in any merely metaphorical sense, but at the most real and most decisive level. This biblical insight is echoed by contemporary existential philosophy. As Sartre puts it:
In order to get any truth about myself, ‘I must have contact with another person. The other is indispensable to my own existence, as well as to my knowledge about myself . . . . Hence, let us at once announce the discovery of a world which we shall call inter-subjectivity. . . 2
Sartre’s teacher, Martin Heidegger, also speaks of human life as essentially being-related-to-others (mit-anderen-sein), but, although the fact of human togetherness is acknowledged, a strong negative evaluation is put upon it by both Sartre and Heidegger. It is in fact regarded as a curse.
Such an evaluation is strictly in line with that of the classical philosopher who regards a splendid isolation as essential to beatitude, whether divine or human. Where he grudgingly grants the necessity of a certain amount of social contact, this is strictly a concession to the limitations of finite existence. The existentialist differs only in denying that any such self-sufficiency is possible for man.
The Bible, by contrast, regards self-sufficient isolation as destruc-
2J.P. Sartre, Existentialism, translated by Bernard Frechtman (New York: The Philosophical Library, 1947). p. 44.
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tive and the desire for it as one of the means by which sin perpetuates itself. The pursuit of salvation in terms of independence or “unrelatedness” is something to be delivered from. Salvation consists precisely in a special quality of relation between men and between man and God. The structure of human freedom, which entails a relation beyond the self, is thus neither destroyed nor “transcended,” but fulfilled. Even God himself, as triune, finds his own beatitude, not in self-sufficiency, but in love.
The Bible’s appreciation of the corporate nature of human existence underlies its understanding of sin as an objective reality with which every man must cope. A man is as the sum total of the emotional and volitional relations in which he stands. The spiritual destiny of each is linked to that of his neighbor. Human relations comprise a network carrying positive and negative charges. The impulses which a man receives will generally govern what he in turn imparts to the system. Attitudes of envy, spite, and resentment do not just glance off. They make a lasting emotional dent upon the persons around me. Even if I try to conceal them, and force myself to do “good works” for the other person, modern psychiatry testifies that I can deceive only his conscious mind, not his heart. The tone of voice, the quality of a gesture, the facial expression - all these are telltale signs which the heart does not mistake.
The hostility which they convey has a deadly effect. For he who has been the object of hate will generally pass it along with interest. And he who has not been loved cannot love much. Whether or not I love depends not just on me but partly on my neighbor. And, conversely, my own negative attitude will have a definite effect upon him. Love is a bilateral relation. It takes two to create it, but one is enough to destroy it. To put it bluntly, I possess the rather terrifying power to prevent my neighbor from loving and, consequently, to impede his salvation, as well as my own. I can be instrumental in the hardening of his heart.
Moreover, sin is not just something which men encounter in their personal relations. It becomes imbedded in the structures and institutions of society itself. Slavery is only the most glaring example - and then only because it is not a present temptation. Up until the time of its abolition it did not lack for apologists to justify it on moral grounds. The same is true today of the racial policies of the government of South Africa, just as it was also true of the exploita-
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tion of labor during the nineteenth century and before. As R. H. Tawney so eloquently expresses it:
The doctrine afterwards expressed by Arthur Young, when he wrote, ‘Everyone but an idiot knows that the lower classes must be kept poor, or they will never be industrious,’ was the tritest commonplace of Restoration economists. It was not argued; it was accepted as self-evident.3
Among the laws of any nation there will be some which work to the advantage of one group against another. The sanctity of law is trumpeted by none more loudly than by those who have made the laws to serve some special interest. Conversely, where the absence of a regulative law works to the advantage of a given group, it will be most vocal in denouncing the right of government to encroach upon the sacred province of individual liberty. This was true in the days before the Fair Labor Standards Act and still remains true today in the case of exorbitant rents charged in tenement houses.
The founders of our democracy were well aware of this tendency of sin to make use of the social structure for its own ends. The system of checks and balances was designed to prevent any one group from operating the government to its own exclusive profit. In Lord Bryce’s famous words:
Someone has said that the American government and constitution are based on the theology of Calvin and the philosophy of Thomas Hobbes. This is at least true, that there is a hearty Puritanism in the view of human nature which pervades the instrument of 1787. It is the work of men who believed in original sin and were resolved to leave open for transgressors no door which they could possibly shut. . .4
Reinhold Niebuhr, whose writings have done so much to remind modem America of the realities and reasoning behind democratic theory, has summed it up in his famous epigram: “Man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible; but man’s inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary.”5
If any corroboration were needed of the objective reality of sin, on both personal and social levels of life, it could be abundantly supplied by the clinical psychiatrist. He is constantly thwarted by the
3R. H. Tawney, op. cit., p. 224.
4James Bryce, The American Commonwealth, cited by Reinhold Niebuhr, The Irony of American History (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1952) , p. 23. note.
5Reinhold Niebuhr The Children of Light and the Children of Darkness (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1949), p. xi.
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futility of sending his patients back into the “continuum of neurosis” - that is, a milieu in which they will once again be at the mercy of malevolence and discord. Since love requires two persons to sustain it, but can be destroyed by one, it is at a constant disadvantage. The wonder is that it has not long since been squeezed entirely out of the system.
SELF-PERPETUATION OF SIN
The biblical alternative also explains how, when once started, sin tends to aggravate and perpetuate itself. Assuming, for the sake of argument, that sin (in the biblical sense) is a fact, then the most important question would be, “Is forgiveness possible?” If it were, then the necessary preliminary to it would be repentance. Repentance, however, is the one thing that men involved in sin find most difficult to accomplish. They will go to any lengths to avoid it. The most obvious alternative to repentance is simple self-justification, the refusal to admit one’s complicity in sin. If the person who thus pleads innocent is in fact really sinful, then he will be susceptible to a gnawing sense of guilt which belies his claims. He may succeed in repressing this feeling, in driving it out of his consciousness, but it remains within him all the same. In fact, it operates even more effectively in the dark. It will drive him to prove, both to himself and to others, that he really is as virtuous as he pretends. As the history of Pharisee and Puritan proves, there is nothing more fatal to human relations than the man whose primary concern is to establish his own moral goodness. His favorite method is to do so at the expense of others. A direct path leads from this technique to the persecuting fury of the inquisitor or witch-hunter. Having once established a foothold, sin thus proceeds to capture by stealth many whom it could not take by storm. Men appeal in all sincerity to illusory virtues as the justification for their atrocities. This analysis of the “inner dynamics” of sin brings out its close connection with deception, especially self-deception. As Reinhold Niebuhr has expressed it:
The desperate effort to deceive must, therefore, be regarded as, on the whole, an attempt to aid the self in believing a pretention it cannot easily believe because it was itself the author of the deception. If others will only accept what the self cannot quite accept, the self as deceiver is given an ally against the self as deceived. All efforts to impress our fellow men, our vanity, our display of power or of goodness, must, therefore, be regarded as revelations of the fact that sin increases the insecurity of the self by
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veiling its weakness with veils which may be torn aside. The self is afraid of being discovered in its nakedness behind these veils and of being recognized as the author of the veiling deceptions.6
It is thus no accident that the Bible speaks of the devil as the father of lies. It is a lie that first causes Eve to put her trust in a false god, and it is only by means of a compound falsehood that men continue to avoid repentance. The more they do this, the farther they are from repentance, and the more vulnerable they become to intensified assault from evil. Just as the deadliest diseases are those which cause no warning pains, so also does sin destroy its victim by blinding him to its reality. As Denis de Rougement remarks, the devil’s greatest triumph is to convince men that he does not exist.7 Hence Christ’s message found a readier reception among publicans and sinners, who knew they needed forgiveness, than among the scribes and Pharisees who did not.
The rather startling implication of this position is that in some very important areas of experience man knows only so much as he wants to know, that his reason is in fact the instrument of his will. If this is true, the goal of perfect knowledge, to which men have aspired from the days of ancient Greek philosophy to the present, can in principle never be reached without a prior reorientation of the will. Sin begets ignorance. Therefore knowledge must wait upon the overcoming of sin, which in turn is dependent upon forgiveness. This close correlation of sin with lack of understanding is made explicit in such biblical passages as the following:
Perceive ye not yet, neither understand? Have ye your heart yet hardened? ( Mark 8:17.)
For they considered not the miracle of the loaves: for their heart was hardened (Mark 6:52).
If this is true, then it is at least possible that some of the most imposing systems of knowledge the world has known, whether philosophical or scientific, are in fact “rationalizations” devised with the partial, if unconscious, aim of rendering sin impossible and repentance unnecessary. Not that this intention would necessarily disprove any such system. But its recognition does free the student to
6Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man, Vol. 1 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1943), pp. 206f.
7Denis de Rougemont, The Devil’s Share, translated by Haakon Chevalier (Washington, D.C.: The Bollingen Series Two, 1944), p. 17. De Rougemont is quoting the poet Baudelaire.
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examine on its merit, instead of accepting on authority, either the oldest or the latest theory concerning the nature of reality and man’s place within it.
In addition to the technique of openly denying the fact of sin, there remains a more subtle method of avoiding repentance: that of repenting for the wrong thing. In order to do this, one mint first devise an unbiblical definition of good and evil. For the Bible nothing is more real than the direction, quality, and expression of the wills of men. The decisive transaction between God and man, and between man and man, occurs in this sphere. What a man ought truly to repent of is determined by the question, “Do you love God with all your heart and soul and mind, and your neighbor as yourself?” In an effort to deflect the judgment of God from this most crucial area, men can invent all manner of “sins” to repent of. They can regard “works alone” as decisive and deplore their failures on this level. Or they can regard “faith alone” as decisive-a position which often tends to substitute indiscriminate self-abasement for concrete acts of repentance. Or they can (and probably will) dismiss the biblical emphasis on the heart as sheer sentimentalism.
If the biblical conception is the true one, then these alternatives merely enable a man to avoid repentance. The result would be a residue of unacknowledged and unforgiven sin which could poison the entire personality-the kind of “floating guilt” which has such a crippling effect on the psychiatrist’s patient.
Its destructive consequences are dramatically illustrated by the latest reports from former prisoners of the Communists during the Korean War. A man in solitary confinement was told repeatedly and authoritatively, “You know you are guilty. Confess.” These words found their target. By playing upon his ill-defined and repressed sense of guilt, his captors were able to extort the most outlandish “confessions.” Thus does sin become the instrument of its own increase.
Another disastrous consequence of unacknowledged guilt is that it compels men to find a scapegoat. They try to banish the subconscious sense of sin by projecting it onto others. Hitler’s charges against the Jews are a notorious example. Another would occur closer to home if ever the search for spies and traitors were to become a national pastime. The popularity of such a morbid game would not be due primarily to a genuine concern for the national security. The secret
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of its appeal would lie in a subtle exploitation of every man’s desire to dispel his misgivings about himself. The standard way to inflate one’s own sense of virtue is, of course, to find a culprit at whom to hurl vindictive recrimination. The new sport would supply a morally un certain generation with a spurious good conscience by insinuating the tacit slogan, “Every man a moral vigilante.” It would offer men a pretext to indulge in an orgy of “outraged public opinion.” Like the Saturnalia of ancient Rome, this latter-day mass orgy would require a steady flow of victims. The manner of their selection would be merely incidental ( though a preference for Christians might still be detected). Men obsessed with proving their own righteousness will stop at nothing.
BONDAGE UNTO SIN
The biblical understanding of sin accomplishes another of Augustine’s purposes by providing a meaningful sense in which to speak of the “bondage of the will.” If human freedom is only fulfilled in agape, then, conversely, it will be progressively destroyed by sin. How dread fully true this is can again be confirmed by a glance at the clinical data of the psychoanalyst. His patients repeatedly testify to the effectiveness with which an environment of submerged hostility can impair the exercise of freedom. Though they might like to establish harmonious relations with their neighbors, they simply cannot. The psychiatrist knows better than merely to recommend a “genuinely friendly overture” as a sufficient remedy. In the first place, the word “genuinely” presents a stumbling block. Many such ostensible overtures are in reality no more than attempts to put the other party “one down” by a show of superior virtue. D. H. Lawrence understands this perfectly in an episode in his novel, The Rainbow. In the midst of a quarrel with her sister Ursula decides to try “the Gospel ethic” and smugly presents her cheek for her sister to slap. Whereupon Theresa lands a resounding wallop directly on target - to the reader’s immense satisfaction.
In the second place, suppose a sincerely friendly gesture were made. Whoever initiates it makes himself vulnerable. In an atmosphere already heavy with spite the chances are that such voluntary exposure will constitute an invitation to sadism. The net result will only be to aggravate the situation. Both parties have lost the freedom to break out of the vicious circle of mutual hostility. So deep are the resent-
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ments on each side that a “friendly overture” is apt to be either insincere or abused. It is more than a mere metaphor to say that both are in bondage to the powers of darkness.
At this stage one still retains the freedom to elect alternatives, to do external acts of service and kindness, and to avoid overt rudeness and brutality. The creeping paralysis of freedom can proceed still further, however, until in certain circumstances one ceases to act voluntarily at all. These are the instances of “compulsive behavior,” in which a person simply cannot help squelching his wife, or perhaps making a public fool of himself, like the buffoon of Dostoevski’s novel The Brothers Karamazov. He can say with St. Paul, “The good that I would I do not, and the evil that I would not, that I do.” ( Romans 7:I9.)
Compulsions like these have established a bridgehead in the behavior of most of us. When they extend their dominion over a sufficiently large area of the personality, the person is pronounced psychopathic. His freedom has been taken captive by the powers of evil, and he is no longer accountable for his actions. He can no more liberate himself than a man in chains.
LIMITATIONS OF SELF-HELP
The fifth purpose which the Bible shares with St. Augustine is to show that man cannot deliver himself by his own efforts alone, apart from God. The necessity for God’s initiative has been so thoroughly implied in the foregoing pages that little need be added. Men have contrived to entangle themselves in a web of enmity extending from camouflaged rivalry to overt conflict. Once this pattern has been established there is no simple way out. The hermit, though his view of salvation is fallacious, at least sees this much. Even where genuine love does continue to brighten the picture, its flickering light is constantly at the mercy of sin.
The situation can be retrieved only by love, but love is not man’s to command. Who by taking thought can love his neighbor as himself? This question thrusts home the bolt against Pelagianism. In order to love one must first be loved from beyond oneself. The only possible solution would be Someone whose love could survive the worst that men could inflict. The vicious circle might then be broken, if such a One directed his love toward men. If they could allow themselves to respond to it, they might find their own long-dormant capac-
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ity to love mysteriously awakened. This would in fact be one of the marks of all who had encountered such an unconditional love from beyond themselves. The result would be a new kind of community, one in which the forces of hostility had been deprived of their advantage. Such a community would constitute a bridgehead from which to wrest from these forces the control which they have so long exercised over men. In the course of the conflict it too would undoubtedly experience the destruction of love, but it would also have the resources for its continual renewal. Such a community is not in man’s power to create. It would indeed require a “new creation.” “With men, this is impossible. But with God, all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26).
ALTERNATIVE TO SELFLESSNESS
One final question remains to be answered. Is the conception of sin as idolatry able to account for the extremes of megalomania, cases in which a person’s whole life appears to be centered, not upon any external idol, but upon sheer self-aggrandizement? Is not the conception of sin as self-centeredness a more adequate interpretation of the diabolic craft and calculated ruthlessness which are writ large in such lives and have doubtless presented a temptation to nearly everyone?
According to the biblical view, what distinguishes even the most involute self-seeker from the “saint” is not simply the pursuit of self-interest, for this is part and parcel of human freedom. Rather, the two are distinguished by the terms in which they conceive their self-interest; that is, by the respective gods whom they trust to fulfill it: the false gods of prestige and power, or the God who can soften the hardened heart. Seen in this light, complete self-centeredness is impossible, and apparent self-centeredness is not a cause but a symptom.
This position finds partial confirmation in the fact that the really perverse self-seeker, the one who seems actually to lead a vampire existence by undermining of others, often does not even recognize this picture of himself. He may make no explicit claims for himself at all and be the first to denounce selfishness in others. Having been blinded by his false gods, he is horrified at the thought of its being attributed to him. His self-centeredness is not the cause of sin but rather the unintended by-product of idolatry.
His counterpart is the person who consciously and defiantly proclaims a policy of exclusive self-worship. He could learn a lesson from the mystics. They know that the mere fact of human freedom in-
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volves the agent in a relation beyond himself and that the only escape from this situation is consequently the annihilation of the individual ( see Chapters V, VII). They could have warned him that the pursuit of self-sufficiency in any less radical way would issue in the exact opposite of its intention. And this is precisely what happens.
The egomaniac’s drive toward self-sufficiency has the effect of making him the most pathetically dependent of men. By seeking power and glory at the expense of his fellows, he becomes parasitic upon them. He is willing to humiliate himself in order to extract what he wants from them, be it their money or their praise. The Byrons and the Nietzsches, who make such a show of contempt for mankind, are not above the whining complaint that they are not sufficiently appreciated. This dependence of the self-seeker upon his own victims is analyzed by George Eliot:
He did not care a languid curse for any one’s admiration; but this state of not-caring, just as much as desire, required its related object-namely, a world of admiring or envying spectators: . . . a rudimentary truth which is surely forgotten by those who complain of mankind as generally contemptible, since any other aspect of the race must disappoint the voracity of their contempt.8
Moreover, if one defines sin as the tendency toward “me first,” then the opposite of sin, or virtue, becomes “me last.” As shown in the preceding chapter, such an ethic of selflessness not only turns into an inverted “me first” again but also becomes a new and deadly legalism. The Christian allows no such rigid formula to prescribe his actions in advance. Rather, he assesses each situation on its merits and acts accordingly. But his action is by no means capricious or without principle on that account. On the contrary, it achieves a greater consistency precisely because it is not based upon a fixed law. Literal and slavish devotion to a law will ultimately lead to deeds which defeat the spirit of the law (this is treated more fully in Chapters XII and XIII). True consistency is achieved by loyalty to the intention of the law. And this, in turn, is based, not upon some inflexible principle, but upon constancy of purpose. As the Bible calls it, the steadfast will of God.9
Of course, for such an ethic to make sense, one must take God se-
8George Eliot, Daniel Deronda, Vol. 2 (New York: Doubleday, Page & Co., 1901 ), p. 196.
9Soren Kierkegaard called this by the misleading phrase, the “teleological suspension of the ethical.” It ought rather to be called the transposition of the ethical norm from fixed rules to the steadfast will of God.
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riously. Some theology, on the contrary, gives the impression of trying to see how much of Christianity could be salvaged, how close a facsimile could be devised, if God were left out of account. The answer, obviously, is that without God nothing at all would remain of Christianity. After all, it would be a paltry God indeed whose exclusion made no appreciable difference to human undertakings, whether practical or philosophical.
CONCLUSION
The biblical alternative thus accomplishes all that Augustine intended by his doctrine of original sin, without falling into a disparagement of human nature as such. A man is as the quality of the volitional attitudes which impinge upon him. A newborn infant who came into the world completely without sin would still be inevitably affected by the emotional environment in which we all live - a milieu which any psychiatrist can testify is thoroughly shot through by strategies and structures of malice. From the moment of birth he becomes a victim, not of a defective human nature, but of what man has done to man. Obliged to fend for himself in such a world, he then grows up to become a party to the perpetuation of hardheartedness in his own right.
Augustine’s intention can thus be achieved without postulating an inherited taint or an essential corruption of human nature. These doctrines do represent sincere efforts to reflect upon the implications of the biblical message and actually to prevent distortions of it. But, if these same purposes can be accomplished in a way which is both more reasonable and more biblical, there is no need to cling to them. In fact, the reluctance to let them go would betray either an essentially pagan conception of man or else the perennial tendency to make an idol of a doctrine, to distort the facts to fit a preconceived theory.