christianity

“Marxism and Christianity are more similar than different.” Discuss. [40]

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At first sight, Marxism and Christianity seem very different. Marxism is political, revolutionary, and atheistic, while Christianity focuses on God, forgiveness, and spiritual salvation. Yet many thinkers have noticed that the two traditions share significant similarities. Both offer strong criticisms of injustice, support the poor, and look forward to a transformed society where human beings live in freedom and equality. Liberation Theology in Latin America made these similarities more visible, using Marxist analysis to understand oppression while remaining grounded in Christian faith. However, critics point out major differences, especially in their views on truth, violence, and human nature. This essay argues that Marxism and Christianity share meaningful ethical and social concerns but differ sharply over the morality of revolution, the use of violence, and the understanding of objective truth.

One key similarity is their shared concern for the poor and for justice. Christianity repeatedly shows God siding with the oppressed, from the Exodus to the teachings of the prophets and Jesus. Some scholars point to Acts 2:44–45, where the early Christians “held all things in common” and distributed resources according to need. This has been described as a kind of proto-communism, demonstrating a radical commitment to social equality. Marxism similarly focuses on the plight of the working class, who are exploited by the ruling elite. Liberation theologians such as Gustavo Gutiérrez argue that theology must begin with praxis—reflecting on action to transform unjust structures. Leonardo Boff emphasises that Marxist social analysis can help Christians understand why poverty persists. Both traditions therefore regard injustice as structural, not merely individual, showing a shared ethical framework. This focus on structural injustice and preferential concern for the poor forms a strong link between Marxism and Christianity, supporting the idea that they are more similar than often assumed.

A second similarity is their shared orientation toward a better future. Christianity teaches that God will bring about a new creation in which injustice and suffering are overcome. This hope shapes Christian action in the present, as believers seek to reflect the values of the Kingdom of God. The communal lifestyle of the early Christians in Acts anticipates that vision. Marxism also offers a forward-looking vision, in which class struggle is overcome and a classless society emerges, freeing people from alienation and exploitation. Alastair Kee notes that Marx’s vision of an unalienated community has surprising parallels with Christian ideas of redemption and restored human relationships. Both traditions reject the idea that the world must remain as it is and inspire efforts toward social transformation. These shared hopes demonstrate a meaningful ethical affinity between Marxism and Christianity, despite differences in foundation.

However, a major difference arises in their approach to violence and revolution. Marxism, as a consequentialist system, often justifies revolutionary action—including violent struggle—if it leads to liberation of the oppressed. Marx argued that the ruling class would never give up power voluntarily, so structural change might require force. Christianity, by contrast, is largely deontological, holding that certain actions are wrong in themselves regardless of the outcome. Jesus’ teachings, such as “love your enemies” and “turn the other cheek,” insist that moral means must accompany moral ends. While the Church has developed doctrines such as “just war” theory, it does not accept violent revolution as inherently moral, nor does it permit harming innocent people to achieve social change. Liberation Theologians such as Gutiérrez and Boff engage critically with Marxist revolutionary theory, using its analysis of oppression while rejecting its endorsement of violence. This ethical contrast illustrates a crucial point: while Marxism and Christianity may share social goals, they sharply differ in their understanding of the moral legitimacy of the means used to achieve liberation.

Another important difference concerns truth and human nature. Marxism is materialist and denies God, arguing that beliefs—including religious beliefs—are shaped by economic structures rather than reflecting objective reality. Many Marxists reject the concept of objective truth, suggesting that all ideas serve the interests of particular classes. Christianity, by contrast, teaches that truth is objective and comes from God. Pope John Paul II emphasised this in the 1984 Instruction on Certain Aspects of the Theology of Liberation, warning that Marxist materialism undermines Christian faith and the search for real truth. He further reinforced this point in Fides et Ratio (1998), asserting that humans can know truth about God and themselves through reason and revelation. Christianity also understands humans as spiritual beings created in God’s image, whose ultimate problem is sin, not merely structural oppression. Salvation is a gift from God, not something achieved solely through political or social revolution. These fundamental differences in worldview, morality, and metaphysics are significant and demonstrate that the two traditions cannot be fully equated, even if they share social and ethical concerns.

Nevertheless, the relationship is not purely oppositional. Liberation Theology demonstrates that Christians can make use of Marxist social critique without adopting Marxism’s atheism or its approval of violent revolution. By combining Marxist tools of analysis with Christian ethical principles, theologians reveal the causes of poverty and structural injustice while maintaining a commitment to non-violence and respect for human dignity. Church documents such as Gaudium et Spes (1965), Populorum Progressio (1967), and the 1968 Medellín conference statements employ concepts similar to Marxist critique, discussing “alienation,” “institutionalised injustice,” and “structures of sin.” These examples show that, while Marxism and Christianity differ on metaphysics and ethics, they can converge in practical concern for justice and human well-being. Recognising both the overlaps and the limits of similarity allows for a nuanced understanding of the relationship between the two traditions.

In conclusion, Marxism and Christianity share meaningful similarities, particularly in their critique of injustice, preferential concern for the poor, and hope for a transformed world. These points of overlap are visible in the Bible, in the early Christian community in Acts, and in modern Liberation Theology. Yet the traditions differ profoundly in their understanding of truth, human nature, and the ethics of revolution. Marxism is consequentialist and may justify violent means to achieve liberation, while Christianity is deontological, insisting that moral ends require moral means. Despite these differences, the strongest reason for recognising similarity is that both traditions offer compelling critiques of social injustice and inspire hope for a better society. Students and scholars should therefore explore the complex interaction between Marxism and Christianity, appreciating both the shared ethical concerns and the fundamental contrasts, especially regarding the morality of revolution.

Critically evaluate the claim that Liberation Theology engaged too much with Marxism. [40]

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Liberation Theology emerged in Latin America in the late twentieth century as a movement seeking to interpret Christian faith from within the lived experiences of the oppressed, insisting that theology must arise from concrete historical circumstances. Gustavo Gutiérrez, often described as the movement’s founding figure, argued that all theology is rooted in praxis—the reflective action of Christian communities responding to injustice; therefore, theological concepts must be shaped by the social and economic conditions in which believers live. Some liberation theologians drew upon Marxist categories such as class struggle, ideology critique, and the analysis of capitalist structures, not as a wholesale adoption of Marxism but as tools for diagnosing systemic injustice. The accusation that Liberation Theology engaged “too much” with Marxism became prominent in the late 1970s and 1980s, especially in Pope John Paul II’s address at Puebla (1979) and in the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith’s Instruction on Certain Aspects of Liberation Theology (1984). These documents expressed concern that Marxist analysis might distort Christian doctrine. This essay argues, however, that Liberation Theology did not engage too much with Marxism; if anything, it engaged with Marxism critically and selectively, sometimes even too cautiously, as scholars like Alastair Kee have argued.

One argument supporting this thesis is that Liberation Theology’s engagement with Marxism is consistent with the broader trajectory of Catholic social teaching in the twentieth century. While Rerum Novarum (1891) laid early foundations for recognising structural injustice, it was Vatican II’s Gaudium et Spes (1965) that adopted a more sociologically sophisticated approach to analysing “the signs of the times,” including structural sin, alienation, and economic inequality—concepts that resonated with Marxist social critique even if not explicitly derived from Marx. Populorum Progressio (Paul VI, 1967) further acknowledged “institutionalised violence” and the moral necessity of transforming oppressive structures, again using language that parallels Marxist analysis of exploitation. The 1968 Medellín documents of the Latin American Episcopal Conference (CELAM) went even further, explicitly adopting the term “institutionalised injustice” and approving the use of social sciences to understand inequality—an implicit endorsement of Marxist-influenced tools. Against this background, Liberation Theology’s use of Marxism is not an eccentric deviation but a natural development within a Church increasingly aware of structural sin and committed to social transformation. Gutiérrez and Boff therefore situate Marxist analysis within a wider Catholic shift towards contextual theology rooted in real human experience. Their engagement with Marxism is not excessive but proportionate to the analytical needs recognised across the Church.

A second reason for rejecting the claim that Liberation Theology engaged too much with Marxism relates to Gutiérrez’s insistence on praxis as the starting point for theology. Gutiérrez argued that theology is always “a second act”: the first act is the lived struggle for justice, and theological reflection arises out of this concrete engagement. Marxist social analysis thus functions within Liberation Theology as one tool among many for understanding the realities in which Christian praxis occurs. Leonardo Boff likewise affirmed that Marxism offers a valuable “seeing” dimension of the pastoral cycle, enabling Christians to understand how economic structures perpetuate poverty. Yet both theologians insist that Marxism is subordinated to the Gospel and used critically rather than dogmatically. The 1984 Instruction warned that concepts such as class struggle could smuggle materialist and deterministic assumptions into theology; however, liberation theologians explicitly rejected these elements. Gutiérrez affirmed spiritual liberation in Christ, and Boff defended the Church’s sacramental and eschatological tradition. Their use of Marxist tools, therefore, is instrumental, limited, and disciplined by theological criteria. Rather than indicating excessive dependence on Marxism, this selective appropriation suggests a careful, balanced approach that enhances the Church’s capacity to respond to oppression without compromising doctrine.

A further strand of support for the thesis comes from Alastair Kee, who famously argued not that Liberation Theology embraced Marxism too much, but rather that it did so too cautiously and too selectively. Kee contended that Liberation Theology adopted Marxism primarily as a tool for analysing poverty without following through on the deeper philosophical critique that Marxism could offer. In Kee’s view, liberation theologians were so anxious to avoid conflict with the Church’s magisterium that they retained aspects of traditional theological categories that limited the transformative potential of Marxist critique. For example, while they used Marxist analysis of class conflict, they often reintroduced classical notions of sin, grace, and personal conversion without integrating these fully with their socio-economic insights. Kee argued that this created an unresolved tension: Liberation Theology wanted Marxist realism about structures but remained reluctant to embrace the more radical implications of Marx’s critique of religion. The Vatican’s fear that Liberation Theology had “absorbed too much” of Marxism therefore overlooks the fact that its engagement was actually quite restrained. Kee’s perspective strengthens the argument that Liberation Theology did not go too far; if anything, its methodological caution demonstrates that it maintained a clear distance between Marxist analysis and Christian revelation.

The primary counterclaim is that any engagement with Marxism is inherently incompatible with Christian theology, because Marxism is grounded in atheism, materialism, and the primacy of class struggle. According to this view—articulated strongly in the 1984 Instruction and echoed by Pope John Paul II at Puebla—even selective use of Marxist tools risks reducing salvation to a merely political project and encouraging revolutionary violence. Critics such as Hans Urs von Balthasar argued that Marxism’s anthropology is fundamentally reductionist, denying human spiritual transcendence. While these concerns highlight genuine dangers, they often conflate methodological use with ideological adoption. Liberation theologians explicitly rejected Marxist atheism and materialism; Gutiérrez spoke of liberation as simultaneously socio-economic, personal, and spiritual, rooted in God’s gratuitous love. Boff emphasised the Church’s eschatological hope and rejected any attempt to collapse the Kingdom of God into historical progress. Moreover, the claim that Marxist influence leads inevitably to violence misrepresents the movement: figures like Oscar Romero, after embracing liberationist analysis, became even more committed to nonviolent resistance. When properly understood, Liberation Theology’s engagement with Marxism is neither doctrinally compromising nor politically extremist; it is a disciplined use of social-scientific tools to further the Church’s mission of justice.

In conclusion, the claim that Liberation Theology engaged too much with Marxism cannot be sustained. The movement’s selective and critical use of Marxist analysis is consistent with the broader direction of twentieth-century Catholic social teaching, which increasingly recognised structural injustice and encouraged engagement with social sciences. Gutiérrez’s emphasis on praxis shows that Marxist tools are employed only insofar as they help illuminate the lived experiences of the oppressed, and theologians like Boff maintain clear theological boundaries that prevent ideological distortion. If anything, as Alastair Kee argues, the movement engaged with Marxism too cautiously, not too enthusiastically. The strongest reason for rejecting the claim is that Liberation Theology remains theologically grounded, Christocentric, and ecclesial in its aims, using Marxist insights only as instruments for pursuing justice. Moving forward, scholars and students should continue to evaluate Liberation Theology with nuance and attentiveness to both its context and its theological integrity, ensuring that discussions of Marxist influence are historically informed rather than ideologically assumed.

“Bonhoeffer’s theology is not relevant today.” Evaluate this statement. [40]

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Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor, theologian, and anti-Nazi dissident whose writings, especially during the rise of the Third Reich, developed a radical form of Christian discipleship centered on costly grace, civil courage, and a church actively resisting injustice. Some critics argue that Bonhoeffer’s theology belongs to a specific historical moment—namely, the crisis of Nazism—and thus has little application in the context of modern secular democracies or pluralist societies. They suggest his theology is more a lesson in historical courage than an applicable guide for today’s Christian ethics. However, others contend that Bonhoeffer’s work speaks urgently to the moral crises of the 21st century: political extremism, institutional failure, and the temptation of cheap grace in modern religion. Overall, it seems that Bonhoeffer’s theology remains highly relevant today due to its enduring ethical challenge to the church and society, and its robust model of lived faith in the face of oppression.

One key reason Bonhoeffer’s theology remains relevant today is his concept of “costly grace,” which challenges modern Christianity’s drift toward comfort, consumerism, and institutional complacency. In his book The Cost of Discipleship, Bonhoeffer contrasts cheap grace—“grace without discipleship, grace without the cross”—with costly grace, which demands the full obedience and sacrifice of the believer. This theme finds resonance in contemporary criticisms of Western Christianity, which Simon Smart argues has become increasingly nominal and aligned with cultural power rather than the radical call of Jesus. Bonhoeffer’s challenge to live out one’s faith authentically, even under pressure, speaks powerfully in an age of religious indifference and moral compromise. The increasing popularity of Bonhoeffer among young evangelicals and progressive Christians alike demonstrates that his theology continues to inspire calls for social justice, humility, and discipleship in a world hungry for authentic faith. Thus, Bonhoeffer’s ethical critique remains a vital counterpoint to the modern church’s tendency to mirror culture rather than transform it.

In addition, Bonhoeffer’s views on civil courage and responsible action are especially relevant in today’s world of political polarization and moral relativism. His involvement in the Confessing Church and ultimately in the resistance against Hitler—including his role in the plot to assassinate the Führer—embodies a theology that refuses to separate belief from action. Eric Metaxas, in his biography Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy, argues that Bonhoeffer offers a model for confronting evil not only through personal piety but through concrete, sacrificial action. This is increasingly pertinent as Christians today face questions about how to respond to authoritarianism, systemic injustice, and human rights abuses across the globe. Bonhoeffer’s notion of “religionless Christianity,” developed in his Letters and Papers from Prison, also anticipates the modern challenge of faith in a secular age. His call to follow Christ outside the bounds of institutional religion—”to speak of God in a secular way”—offers a fresh paradigm for mission and witness in post-Christian societies. Therefore, Bonhoeffer’s legacy as a theologian of action is not just historically important but morally indispensable in our current moment.

Nevertheless, some scholars argue that Bonhoeffer’s theology was so context-specific—shaped by Nazi totalitarianism and Lutheran ecclesiology—that it lacks broad applicability today. Critics like John A. Phillips suggest that Bonhoeffer’s radicalism is more about ethical witness in extreme circumstances than about shaping theology for ordinary believers in peaceful societies. Moreover, some claim that Bonhoeffer’s ambiguous use of terms like “religionless Christianity” is too vague to provide concrete guidance for church practice today. However, this view underestimates both the adaptability and prophetic force of Bonhoeffer’s thought. As Stanley Hauerwas and Samuel Wells argue, Bonhoeffer’s idea of living “before God and with God” in a world come of age speaks directly to modern dilemmas where institutional religion is distrusted but spiritual hunger remains. Moreover, the fact that theologians and ethicists across ideological spectra—from liberation theologians in Latin America to post-evangelicals in the West—continue to engage Bonhoeffer’s work suggests that his theology has escaped its original context. Bonhoeffer’s relevance lies precisely in his ability to draw connections between theology, ethics, and public responsibility in a way that continues to challenge Christians across times and cultures.

In conclusion, Bonhoeffer’s theology is indeed relevant today, primarily because it offers a compelling model of Christian faith that integrates costly discipleship with moral courage and social responsibility. In a world marked by moral compromise, cultural Christianity, and political apathy, Bonhoeffer’s radical vision of following Christ “unto death” challenges both individuals and institutions to re-examine what authentic faith looks like. As contemporary Christians navigate complex ethical landscapes—from authoritarianism to social injustice to religious irrelevance—Bonhoeffer’s writings offer enduring wisdom and a prophetic voice. The call now is not simply to admire his courage from a distance but to live out his theology of active discipleship in our own contexts. Churches, theologians, and individual believers must heed Bonhoeffer’s call to live responsibly, faithfully, and courageously in the world, even—perhaps especially—when it costs us everything.

“Knowledge of God only comes through Jesus Christ” Critically evaluate this claim. [40]

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“Knowledge of God only comes through Jesus Christ” is a claim strongly associated with twentieth-century neo-orthodox theology. It rejects the idea that human beings can discover God independently through reason or nature (natural theology) and instead insists that God is known only where God chooses to reveal himself (revealed theology), but also rejects the more common Protestant claim that knowledge of God can be derived from Scripture in itself, arguing instead that knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ, to whom Scripture is a witness. Scholars such as Karl Barth and Dietrich Bonhoeffer strongly support the claim because they argue that sinful humanity cannot reach God through its own intellectual efforts. Instead, revelation in Christ is the sole reliable source of divine knowledge. Although some theologians defend natural theology and religious experience as genuine paths to God, this essay will argue that knowledge of God ultimately comes only through Jesus Christ because human reason is too limited and corrupted to attain true understanding independently of divine revelation.

Firstly, knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ because human reason and natural theology are fundamentally unreliable after the Fall. Barth argues that God is wholly transcendent and cannot be discovered through ordinary human investigation. Human beings cannot “climb up” to God through philosophy, science or ethics because sin has distorted human understanding. Instead, God must reveal himself freely and graciously. For Barth, this revelation occurs uniquely in Jesus Christ, who is “the Word made flesh” from John 1. Jesus is therefore not merely one source of knowledge about God but the only true revelation of God’s nature. Barth famously rejected natural theology during his dispute with Emil Brunner, declaring “Nein!” to the suggestion that there is a natural human capacity for knowledge of God. Barth believed that attempts to know God apart from Christ risk creating an idol shaped by human desires rather than encountering the true God. This position is supported by biblical evidence, particularly John 14:9 where Jesus says, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” The implication is that God’s character is fully disclosed only in Christ. Barth’s view is persuasive because it recognises the limitations of finite human reason when discussing an infinite being. Natural theology may reveal only vague concepts such as a “first cause” or “designer”, but Christ reveals God personally as loving, sacrificial and redemptive. Furthermore, Barth’s emphasis on revelation protects Christianity from reducing God to an abstract philosophical principle. Critics may argue that Barth dismisses too quickly the value of reason, yet his approach successfully explains why Christian knowledge of God is centred on the incarnation rather than speculation. Therefore, Barth strongly supports the thesis that genuine knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ.

Secondly, Bonhoeffer develops this argument further by insisting that God is known only through participation in the suffering and person of Christ rather than through detached intellectual inquiry. Writing during the rise of Nazism, Bonhoeffer believed liberal theology had failed because it reduced Christianity to moral philosophy and ignored the radical revelation of God in Christ. In “Letters and Papers from Prison”, he argues that “God lets himself be pushed out of the world onto the cross.” This means that God is revealed paradoxically through weakness and suffering in Jesus rather than through worldly power or rational certainty. Bonhoeffer’s theology is profoundly Christocentric because he believes Christ stands “in the centre of human existence”. Human beings encounter God not through abstract reasoning but through discipleship and relationship with Christ. This is evident in his famous work “The Cost of Discipleship”, where he condemns “cheap grace” and argues that authentic Christianity requires following Jesus completely. Bonhoeffer’s ideas strengthen the thesis because they show that knowledge of God is experiential and relational rather than merely intellectual. Christ reveals not only that God exists but what God is like: self-giving love expressed on the cross. Bonhoeffer also demonstrates the practical consequences of revelation, since his opposition to Hitler arose from his understanding of Christ’s teachings. This gives his theology moral credibility and existential depth. Supporters would argue that natural theology could never reveal the specifically Christian understanding of forgiveness, sacrifice and salvation found in Christ. Although critics may claim Bonhoeffer’s approach is overly exclusive toward other religions, his theology compellingly explains why Christians see Jesus as the decisive revelation of God rather than simply one teacher among many. Consequently, Bonhoeffer reinforces the claim that knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ.

However, a significant counterclaim is that knowledge of God can also arise through natural theology, reason and religious experience independently of Christ. Thinkers such as Thomas Aquinas argue that the natural world reflects its creator and therefore provides genuine knowledge of God. Aquinas’ Five Ways attempt to demonstrate God’s existence through observation of motion, causation and contingency. Similarly, William Paley argued through the design argument that the complexity of nature points towards an intelligent designer. More modern scholars such as Richard Swinburne defend the cumulative power of natural theology and religious experience. These thinkers challenge the thesis because they suggest human reason is capable of reaching at least partial knowledge of God without Christ. Nevertheless, this counterclaim is ultimately unconvincing. Firstly, natural theology may indicate the possibility of some creator, but it cannot reveal the specifically Christian God of love and redemption. The cosmological and teleological arguments reveal little about God’s character, intentions or relationship with humanity. Secondly, the problem of evil undermines the idea that nature straightforwardly reveals God. If nature points to God, then disease, suffering and natural disasters may suggest a cruel or indifferent deity rather than the loving Father revealed by Christ. Barth therefore argues that natural theology produces ambiguous and contradictory conclusions. Furthermore, religious experiences are subjective and vary enormously across cultures and religions, making them unreliable as universal sources of truth. By contrast, Christians claim Christ provides a concrete historical revelation accessible through scripture and tradition. Even Aquinas himself believed revealed theology was necessary for salvation because reason alone was insufficient. Therefore, while natural theology may provide hints or preparation for belief, it does not provide complete or certain knowledge of God. The counterclaim ultimately fails because only Christ reveals the fullness of God’s nature and purposes.

In conclusion, knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ because human reason and natural theology are incapable of attaining full and reliable understanding of the divine. The strongest argument is Barth’s claim that sinful humanity cannot discover God independently and therefore depends entirely upon God’s self-revelation in Christ. Bonhoeffer deepens this insight by showing that God is encountered personally through the suffering, love and discipleship embodied in Jesus. Although natural theology and religious experience may point vaguely towards the existence of a creator, they cannot reveal the distinctively Christian understanding of God’s character and salvific purpose. Ultimately, Christianity stands or falls on the belief that Jesus Christ is not merely a messenger about God but God revealed in human form. Therefore, theologians and believers alike should prioritise Christ-centred revelation over purely rational approaches if they wish to attain authentic knowledge of God.

“Jesus is best understood as a teacher of wisdom.” Discuss [40]

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There is a long tradition of interpreting Jesus as a teacher of wisdom rather than as God incarnate. Immanuel Kant admired Jesus as a moral teacher whose ethical wisdom provided a universal guide for human behaviour. Nevertheless, in recent times this argument is commonly associated with John Dominic Crossan, who argues that Jesus should be understood within the Jewish wisdom tradition, presenting him as a Jewish sage whose teaching resembled the wisdom literature of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes more than later Christian doctrinal claims about incarnation. Wisdom teaching in Judaism was characterised by memorable sayings, imagery, metaphor, parallelism and practical ethical instruction aimed at showing people how to live in right relationship with God and others. This can clearly be seen in Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 5 and in parables such as the Lost Son. By contrast, N. T. Wright and more traditional theologians such as Barth and Bonhoeffer argue that Jesus cannot merely be reduced to a wisdom teacher because he understood himself as the unique Son of God and fulfilment of Israel’s hopes. Nevertheless, while divine claims became central to later Christian theology, the Gospel evidence suggests that Jesus’ historical ministry is best understood primarily through the wisdom tradition, since his teaching methods, themes and ethical concerns consistently reflect the hallmarks of Jewish wisdom instruction.

One reason for accepting Crossan’s interpretation of Jesus as a teacher of wisdom is that Jesus’ style of teaching strongly reflects the literary and rhetorical characteristics of Jewish wisdom literature. Wisdom teachers commonly used imagery, metaphor, aphorisms, opposites and parallelism to provoke reflection and communicate moral truths memorably. This style dominates Jesus’ teaching, especially in Matthew 5. The Beatitudes use parallelism repeatedly: “Blessed are the poor in spirit… Blessed are those who mourn… Blessed are the meek.” The repeated structure gives the teaching rhythm and authority while emphasising key moral attitudes. Furthermore, Jesus uses opposites and paradoxes characteristic of wisdom literature, teaching that those who appear weak or suffering will ultimately inherit the kingdom. This reflects the wisdom theme that present circumstances are temporary and will eventually be reversed by God. Crossan argues that Jesus’ sayings deliberately challenged conventional assumptions about honour, wealth and status in first-century society. The aphoristic style of sayings such as “the first shall be last and the last first” resembles Proverbs because it condenses profound insight into memorable phrases. Jesus also constantly used imagery and metaphor, describing his followers as “salt of the earth” and “light of the world.” These vivid images function pedagogically, helping listeners apply spiritual truths to ordinary life. Crossan drew heavily on the work of EP Sanders, who argued that Jesus should primarily be understood in relation to his 1st Century Jewish context. For Sanders, Jesus’ teaching methods were unmistakeably rabbinic and are in complete continuity with earlier Jewish wisdom traditions. For example, the Sermon on the Mount is didactic in tone. Jesus is instructing people about how to live rather than presenting systematic theology about his divine identity and uses aphorisms, parallelism, opposites and the fear of the Lord theme repeatedly. The evangelists focus on recording Jesus’ teachings rather than explaining metaphysical doctrines like the Trinity, which don’t really develop until centuries later, supporting the view that high Christology was a later exaggeration and not rooted in the reality of Jesus’ life. So, overall, the literary style of Jesus’ teaching strongly support the claim that he is best understood as a teacher of wisdom.

A second reason supporting Crossan’s view is that the themes of Jesus’ teaching closely mirror central themes within Jewish wisdom traditions. Wisdom literature, such as in the Old Testament books of Ecclesiastes and Job, teaches that earthly suffering is temporary, that fortunes will ultimately be reversed and that people should trust in God even when life appears unjust or confusing. These themes are especially clear in Matthew 5 and in the Parable of the Lost Son. In the Beatitudes, Jesus repeatedly promises future blessing to those who currently suffer: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” This reflects the wisdom belief that God’s justice may not be immediately visible but will ultimately prevail. Further, the “fear of the Lord” theme, central to Jewish wisdom, is also reflected in Jesus’ insistence that righteousness should exceed external legal obedience and emerge from sincere reverence for God. For example, Jesus uses parallelism to drive home the point that it is better to lose an eye or a hand than to lose the whole body in the fires of hell. The Parable of the Lost Son similarly expresses wisdom themes through narrative form. Jesus teaches that true wisdom involves humility, mercy and dependence upon God rather than worldly success. The younger son experiences suffering and alienation because of foolish choices, yet restoration becomes possible through repentance and reconciliation. The father’s response teaches wisdom about forgiveness, compassion and grace, while the older brother represents the danger of self-righteousness. Crossan argues that Jesus used parables not simply as illustrations but as wisdom stories designed to subvert conventional thinking and force listeners to reconsider their assumptions. Crossan agrees with the scepticism about miracle stories that can be traced way back into the early 19th Century writings of David Strauss and perhaps beyond into the thought of Immanuel Kant. If miraculous elements were later theological additions, the enduring historical core of Jesus’ ministry becomes his wisdom teaching. This also explains why Jesus’ teachings remain morally and spiritually influential even beyond Christianity. Therefore, the themes of Jesus’ teaching reinforce the claim that he is best understood as a teacher of wisdom.

However, critics argue that Jesus should not merely be understood as a wisdom teacher because the New Testament presents him as uniquely divine. N. T. Wright for one example argues that Jesus consciously saw himself as inaugurating God’s kingdom and fulfilling Israel’s messianic expectations in an unprecedented way. Wright points to Jesus forgiving sins and speaking with personal authority as evidence that he claimed more than the role of a teacher. Barth similarly rejected liberal attempts to reduce Jesus to ethics, insisting that Christianity is grounded in divine revelation rather than human wisdom. Bonhoeffer criticised portrayals of Jesus as merely a moral guide because they ignore the radical demands of discipleship rooted in Christ’s divine authority. C. S. Lewis’ famous “Lord, liar or lunatic” argument claims that Jesus’ extraordinary claims prevent him from being understood simply as a wise teacher. Furthermore, Kähler and Bauer criticised the “quest for the historical Jesus,” arguing that scholars such as Crossan reconstruct Jesus according to modern assumptions while neglecting the Christ of faith proclaimed by the Church. However, these criticisms are less persuasive because they often prioritise later theological interpretation over the actual content of Jesus’ ministry in the Gospels. Even if Jesus was eventually understood as divine, the gospels show that his day-to-day activity overwhelmingly involved teaching through wisdom forms such as parables, aphorisms and ethical instruction. Lewis’ trilemma assumes that every Gospel saying directly reflects Jesus’ own self-understanding without recognising the role of later theological development. Moreover, divine identity and wisdom teaching are not mutually exclusive; Jesus may have been seen as extraordinary precisely because of the authority and originality of his wisdom. The centrality of Matthew 5 and the parables demonstrates that what most distinguished Jesus publicly was his teaching rather than doctrinal claims about incarnation. John Hick supported the view that Jesus’ significance lies primarily in his spiritual insight and ethical vision rather than supernatural status. As he saw it, the incarnation is a metaphor, and Jesus was not the unique son of God. This interpretation of Jesus’ identity allowed Hick to embrace Pluralism and a belief in Universalism also, showing how seeing Jesus as a teacher of wisdom supports a more inclusive and progressive theology fit for the 21st century.  Further, feminist writer Rosemary Radford Ruether also situated Jesus within the Jewish Wisdom tradition, presenting him as embodying the feminine divine wisdom principle (Sophia) and so offering teaching that is liberating and compassionate to women as well as men. This shows that not only does the style and do the themes of Jesus teaching show that he is best understood as a teacher in the wisdom tradition, but also that this interpretation is best for those seeking a more progressive approach to Christian theology today.

In conclusion, Jesus is best understood as a teacher of wisdom because both the style and themes of his ministry place him firmly within the Jewish wisdom tradition. Scholars such as Crossan, Sanders and Hick convincingly demonstrate that Jesus’ enduring significance lies in the transformative ethical wisdom of his teaching rather than later doctrinal claims about his divine nature. Although Wright, Barth and Bonhoeffer rightly emphasise the importance of Christological belief within Christianity, the historical evidence still suggests that Jesus’ primary role was that of a wisdom teacher. Further, as Hick and Ruether show, embracing a lower Christology has far wider implications for Christianity in the modern world than it might at first appear. Modern readers should therefore engage seriously with Jesus’ teachings as a profound source of ethical and spiritual wisdom capable of challenging assumptions about justice, humility and compassion in contemporary society.

The Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. Discuss [40]

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Protestant Christians have faith “Sola Scriptura”, seeing Christian Ethics as Theonomous and based only on God’s commands… usually as found in Scripture, which is understood to be the Words of God and Inerrant. Despite this, relatively few Protestants would accept that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide because there are some subjects on which the Bible says nothing (such as Abortion, IVF, Assisted Dying) and because even where the Bible does speak, what is said is in need of interpretation. As a result, the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide.

Firstly, even Karl Barth rejected the claim that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. Barth criticised both Natural Theology and Natural Law, the Roman Catholic claim that we can discover most of what is right and wrong using reason, because he believed that this has been corrupted by the Fall. Drawing on the writings of St Paul and St Augustine, Barth argued that we are saved by grace and faith and not because of anything we have done (Ephesians 2:8), suggesting that we can’t discover God’s existence or nature using reason and neither can we discover right and wrong, let alone use this knowledge to earn our own salvation by works (the Pelagian heresy). For Barth, knowledge of God and what is good must be revealed and this revelation is for most people through Scripture. Yet Barth also criticised the view that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. This is because Scripture is not itself God’s revelation, but rather witness to God’s revelation through Jesus and the Prophets. Being only a record of what was revealed, rather than revelation, it should be seen as a human creation and subject to some errors and omissions, however minor. For Barth, as for Bonhoeffer, Christians should reflect on their reading of Scripture as a whole and on the example of Jesus when making moral decisions autonomously and personally, rather than trying to follow lines of the Bible individually on face value. Today, scholars such as NT Wright and Peter Enns agree with Barth’s approach to Biblical Ethics. For NT Wright, the narrative or story of the Bible is true and inerrant, but the idea that isolated parts can be taken literally out of context and without proper interpretation is mistaken. Similarly, Enns points out that the Bible is a human creation which reflects its cultural contexts and authors’ perspectives. Surely, God speaks through scripture, but it should not be understood as a transcript of God’s words, let alone as a comprehensive guide to God’s thinking on moral issues. Biblical Criticism supports the approach to Scripture taken by Barth, Wright and Enns. Textual analysis has shown that the Bible was written by multiple authors and repeatedly redacted, as well as that the historical, political and theological concerns of the authors and redactors are reflected in the text. Given this, as well as the existence of multiple translations and editions of the Bible, it is hard to see that it is intellectually credible to argue that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide.

In addition, the Roman Catholic Church, while upholding the principle of Biblical Inerrancy, dismisses the idea that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. For Roman Catholics, Scripture is one source of moral authority among others, including Tradition and Reason (Natural Law). As Aquinas pointed out, Scripture needs to be read as a whole and through “the lens of doctrine” or it can seem to give guidance that contradicts reason and/or Christian tradition. For example, in Romans 2:6 the Bible says “God will repay each one according to his deeds.” and of course Matthew 25 says much the same thing through the Parable of the Sheep and Goats, while the Bible also says that people are saved by Grace and Faith and not because of anything they have done in Ephesians 2:8-9. This seems contradictory and could lead an individual Protestant who reads the Bible to believe that they are saved because of good works and perhaps that anybody who does good works will be saved, while this contradicts Christian tradition which is clearly Sola Gratia and exclusivist. Roman Catholics point out that following Church Teachings, which are informed by Tradition and Reason as well as Scripture, which itself is interpreted “through the lens of doctrine” and as a whole rather than in isolated parts, guards against being led into error in this way. Of course, evangelical Protestants will reject this argument that Christian Ethics should be Heteronomous, reasoning that the Bible itself says that the Holy Spirit will guide those who God has saved to the truth, so they do not misunderstand God’s will when reading Scripture. “But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth.” John 16:13 Yet Roman Catholics would reject this and say that this is a very particular interpretation of this passage and does not explain how faithful Christians can read Scripture and end up with multiple interpretations of what it says. If having the “right interpretation” depends on having been saved and having “wrong interpretations” is symptomatic of having not received God’s Grace and Spirit, then when multiple interpretations exist amongst God’s fearing and good people – as is evidenced by the multiplicity of Protestant denominations for example – how is anybody to know what the “right interpretation” and God’s law is? The result of arguing that Scripture is a comprehensive moral guide is to leave Christian Ethics up to the consciences of individuals, giving them license to believe that anything that they feel led to believe is what God commands. This is not a practical approach to Christian Ethics. The Yorkshire Ripper Peter Sutcliffe believed that he was led by God to murder women, quoting his readings of scripture to justify his heinous crimes… can anybody really say that he should have listened to his conscience and that he was right to do so when it led him to break God’s sixth Commandment (Exodus 20:13) as well as the whole of Christian tradition and reason? While Acts 5:29 does say “we must obey God rather than human beings”, suggesting that doing what is right may well break social norms and even religious teachings, the argument that Christian Ethics consists in following one’s personal “conscience” wherever it leads, provided that these leadings were inspired by one’s reading of the Bible in some way (however idiosyncratic or irrational), is difficult to defend. This suggests that the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide.

On the other hand, the Bible itself suggests that it is a comprehensive moral guide – at least in parts – so Protestants who have faith Sola Scriptura and uphold Biblical Inerrancy may feel bound to accept that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. St Paul wrote that “all scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching… so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work…” 2 Timothy 3:16-17; this implies that the Bible is a complete moral handbook for Christians. On the other hand, Roman Catholics have pointed out that this quotation is taken out of context, ignoring the preceding sentence “continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it” 2 Timothy 3:14, which suggests that there are sources of authority besides the Bible. Further, there are other passages in the Bible which suggest that there are moral authorities outside of Scripture. Romans 13:1 affirms “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established.” suggesting that Christians should obey those who have power and worldly authority as well as the “plain word of Scripture”. This is confirmed by Hebrews 13:17. Further, the Bible also says that ignorant people can misinterpret Scripture, suggesting that Luther was wrong to suggest that “A simple layman armed with Scripture is to be believed above a pope or a cardinal without it.” St Peter wrote of St Paul’s letters – amongst which 2 Timothy purports to be – that “His letters contain some things that are hard to understand, which ignorant and unstable people distort, as they do the other Scriptures, to their own destruction.” 2 Peter 3:16, suggesting that it is possible for people to be misled by the word of Scripture and that additional education may be necessary to understand its true meaning. In this way, the Roman Catholic Church’s teaching on the authority of Scripture – that it must be acknowledged as “teaching solidly, faithfully and without error that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation.” Dei Verbum but that the Church holds the authority to interpret it, to discover and communicate that truth to ordinary people, handed down from St Peter who received it from Jesus (Matthew 18:18) – is more persuasive than the minority Protestant view that Scripture is a comprehensive moral guide. Further, using the inerrancy of the Bible to justify having faith in the inerrancy and completeness of the Bible is a circular argument which as such is unconvincing. Nevertheless, Evangelical Protestants such as RC Sproul, JI Packer and more recently Wayne Grudem have argued that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. They stress Biblical Inerrancy, arguing that faith in God means faith in God’s word in scripture. If one doubts the Bible and its teaching in any part, it is the same as doubting God’s authority and not consistent with being a Christian. St Augustine made this point, as did Harold Lindsell in “The Battle for the Bible”, published in 1978, the same year that many Protestant leaders signed up to the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy. Yet, despite signing the Chicago Statement on inerrancy, even Evangelical scholars like Wayne Grudem stop short of claiming that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide today, because the Bible does not address many contemporary moral issues. He wrote “the Bible always tells the truth, and it always tells the truth concerning everything that it talks about.” This suggests that there may be things that the Bible does not talk about, about which it does not tell the truth, and so that the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide.

In conclusion, the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide. This is accepted by Protestant authorities such as Karl Barth as well as by the Roman Catholic Church and is supported by reason, evidence and even some parts of the Bible itself. Even those few evangelical protestant scholars who seem to support this claim stop short of actually endorsing the idea that the Bible is a comprehensive or complete guide when it comes to modern moral issues.

“The word conscience is best understood as an umbrella term for various factors involved in moral decision making.” Discuss (40)

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We use the word “conscience” every day, but rarely stop to think about what it really means.  In broad terms, it usually refers to our inner moral compass, yet it can also refer to the voice of God within us, reason, how we apply our moral principles, our moral framework or even the internalised voices of our parents within our subconscious mind. Because of this, and because the arguments of those who have attempted to define the conscience as a specific thing are not persuasive, it is best to understand conscience as an umbrella term for various factors in moral decision-making.

Firstly, in the Bible various different words are used to refer to and sometimes translated as conscience.  In the Old Testament, the Hebrew word “lev” for heart suggests that there is an inner moral guide.  For example, “David’s heart condemned him after he had numbered the people. So David said to the LORD “I have sinned greatly in what I have done…” 2 Samuel 24:10 It was not until the rabbinic period that the Hebrew word matzpun referred to conscience. Etymologically it means “hidden north”, giving the suggestion of an inner moral compass. In the New Testament the Greek word syneídēsis means the capacity to apply general principles of moral judgment to particular cases.  The word is used frequently by St Paul, for example in Romans Chapter 2 “when Gentiles, who do not have the law, do by nature things required by the law, they are a law for themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their thoughts sometimes accusing them and at other times even defending them.” After the 4th Century AD the Greek word Synderesis / Synteresis started to be used in commentaries on both Old and New Testaments. The word synderesis is by most scholars reckoned to be a corruption of the Greek word syneidêsis (συνείδησις).  On the other hand, also in the New Testament, St Paul speaks of those whose consciences have become “seared with a hot iron,” 1 Timothy 4:2 meaning they no longer feel guilt for sin. Conversely, a “good” or “clear” conscience is seen as one that is aligned with God’s will (1 Timothy 1:5). In 1 Peter 3:16, Peter encourages Christians to maintain a clear conscience, so that they may stand firm in their faith and defend it with integrity when challenged. These references suggest that conscience is a distinct faculty that all human beings have.  Given that the Bible uses different words for conscience and implies that it is God’s law, an inner moral guide or compass, the capacity to apply general principles to specific cases, our moral character and a faculty which can be corrupted, it seems that the word conscience is not a single thing, but best understood as an umbrella term for various factors involved in moral decision making.

Secondly, following the Bible, different Christian scholars have used the word conscience to refer to different things. For example, Aquinas uses three different words to distinguish between three things people usually use the word conscience for; Ratio, Synderesis and Conscientia.  For Aquinas, the God-given and rational part of conscience is called RATIO, it commands us to pursue good and avoid evil and cannot be wrong. For Kant, this is reason itself, issuing us with Categorical Imperatives which we must choose to follow.  For St Augustine, Butler and Newman this is conscience as the “voice of God” speaking through our minds and calling us to do what is right, which they admit is not always the same as what is rational. For Aquinas also, the conscience is not a synonym for reason but also refers to a specific habit of reason that tries to work out what good and evil consist in. This practical part of reason (what Aristotle called Phronesis) is known as SYNDERESIS and it requires formation, moving from offering only the most general guidance towards being more and more specific.  While it is a duty to follow the guidance of synderesis, which is after all part of Ratio which cannot be wrong, because its guidance may be too general to be useful it might mislead us, such as leading us to pursue an apparent good and not a real good. In addition, for Aquinas, another part of conscience is CONSCIENTIA, the act of applying synderesis-guidance to specific situations.  This is what Fletcher refers to as conscience, defining it as a verb not a noun.  This shows that scholars use the word conscience to refer to the faculty of reason, the voice of God, the habit of practical reason and the act of applying moral rules to a specific situation… and that conscience is not a single thing, but best understood as an umbrella term for various factors involved in moral decision making.

Thirdly, psychologists have a variety of ideas about what the conscience consists in, that are independent of the Bible and based on scientific observations. While his methodology was criticised by Popper as pseudo-scientific, Freud saw conscience as part of the super-ego, part of the subconscious mind that represents internalised voices of our parents, societal norms, religious beliefs and moral ideals. Conscience is formed during early childhood, particularly through the oral, anal and phallic phases of psycho-sexual development, suggesting that while conscience is a specific part of the psyche, it is made up of the values of our parents or care-givers as influenced by repressed experiences in different ways, explaining why peoples’ consciences seem to guide them in different directions that are not always rational or consistent with prevailing social norms. Freud’s ideas influenced other psychologists, whose methodologies are more credible, again seeking to explain how consciences develop through childhood and differ between adults.  For Piaget, consciences develop from being heteronomous in early childhood to being autonomous during the teenage years, and developmental disorders therefore explain why some adults lack a moral conscience, why others have a strong sense of the conscience being like a moral compass pointing towards fixed rules and still others see it as a more flexible and situational process of decision-making.  Similarly, for Fromm conscience usually develops from being authoritarian into being more humanistic, but some people fail to develop leaving them with an authoritarian conscience into adulthood and conforming to rules imposed on them from outside without really engaging reason. This explains how totalitarian regimes sometimes succeed, and why there will always be those who oppose them on humanistic grounds.  Finally, Kohlberg built on the ideas of Piaget and Fromm to suggest that conscience continues to develop in adulthood for some, towards a post-conventional level which at Stage 6 involves the conscience being reason, applying universal moral rules. Kohlberg explains why some peoples’ consciences demand that they follow rational deontological ethics, while others suggest they should be more situational and relativistic in their decision-making while others still command them to conform with social norms. While Freud, Piaget, Fromm and Kohlberg suggest that there is a specific thing called the conscience, they stress how it develops and changes, giving guidance of different sorts.  They also have slightly different ideas of conscience from each other.  This also suggests that conscience is not a single thing, but best understood as an umbrella term for various factors involved in moral decision making.

In conclusion, the word conscience is not a single thing, but best understood as an umbrella term for various factors involved in moral decision making. From a Christian perspective, Friedrich Schleiermacher, a German theologian and philosopher, agreed with this, viewing conscience as an umbrella term that integrates various factors of moral self-awareness. From a social-scientific perspective Carol Gilligan (b.1936) in “A Different Voice” (1982) argued that conscience is an umbrella term that includes different moral orientations depending on one’s ethical approach (e.g., care ethics versus justice ethics). She suggested that the conscience is influenced by not just reasoning, but also empathy, relational dynamics, and the emotional ties that influence moral judgment.  Whether one is approaching conscience from a religious or non-religious perspective, seeing it as an umbrella term for various factors involved in moral decision making is the most credible approach.

Critically discuss different Christian interpretations of what heaven is like. [40]

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All Christians believe in heaven.  The belief is affirmed in the last line of the Nicene Creed “We believe also in… the resurrection of the dead, in the everlasting judgement of souls and bodies, in the Kingdom of Heaven and in the everlasting life.” Yet Christians have different interpretations of what heaven is like, ranging from belief that heaven is a place much like earth, but perfected and everlasting, through to belief that heaven is a spiritual state or even entirely symbolic. Overall, it is the first of these interpretations, that heaven is a perfected, eternal place, that is most consistent with Christian doctrine.

Firstly, the Roman Catholic Church affirms that while human beings have a soul and a body, these form a single human nature, and according to Catechism 366 “[the soul] will be reunited with the body at the final Resurrection.” This suggests that our eternal life in heaven will be much like our life on earth, so that each person will have a soul and a body, but our life in heaven will be eternal and we will be with God, much as Adam and Eve were with God in Eden.  This view of heaven is consistent with Jesus’ teaching in the Gospels and with the fact that Jesus ascended into heaven, where he remains “at the right hand of the father”, which suggests that heaven is a place.  In the Parable of the Sheep and Goats in Matthew 25 Jesus describes a final judgement where people are judged and then sent off for an eternal life in heaven or eternal punishment in hell.  This confirms that there will be a final resurrection and judgement, as the Catechism says, and that heaven will be eternal life. Also, the Parable of Dives and Lazarus in Luke 16 describes heaven being separated from hell by a chasm, with those in hell being able to see and call to those in heaven.  Again, this suggests that heaven and hell are eternal places, of reward and punishment respectively.  Nevertheless, it is true that the two parables give different impressions of when people will go to heaven.  The Parable of the Sheep and Goats suggests that there will be a final judgement, followed by eternal heaven or hell, whereas Dives and Lazarus suggests immediate judgement and entry into heaven and hell while life on earth continues.  Despite this, Roman Catholic teaching makes sense of this through its teaching about purgatory, whereby the soul separates from the body and is reclothed in a heavenly body for purification in purgatory, a temporary hell, the gates of which will then be opened at the final judgement so that souls can be released and reunited with their risen bodies for final judgement and eternal reward in heaven, as appropriate. While purgatory is not supported by clear Biblical evidence, the Church was given authority to “bind and loose” by Jesus in Matthew 16:19 so the authority of the Church to add to Biblical revelation such as regarding purgatory is consistent with the Bible. Further, purgatory makes sense of how sinners can still hope for eternal life given what Revelation 21:27 says about heaven namely that “nothing impure will ever enter it”, and how God’s goodness and justice are compatible.  It follows that the Roman Catholic view of heaven as a place is most consistent with the Bible and Christian doctrine. 

Secondly, the idea that heaven is a spiritual state has always been popular because there is no physical evidence supporting the belief in heaven as a place while heaven as a spiritual state would not require such evidence.  Belief in heaven as a spiritual state is also compatible with Platonic Dualism; heaven would be like the world outside the cave in Plato’s famous allegory, illuminated by the sun and filled with the “forms” of things we only encounter as shadowy particulars in the body. Naturally, St Augustine’s view of heaven was influenced by neo-Platonism; he spoke of heaven as the eternal contemplation of God in Confessions Book XII.  Patly because of St Augustine, Platonic Dualism dominated the Classical and then Medieval worldviews, with philosophers such as Descartes seeing the soul and heaven saw as purely spiritual, with death being a liberation from the mechanistic snares of the physical body. There is some Biblical support for the view that heaven is spiritual; for St Augustine and later for Descartes, the ultimate reward was to see God face to face and have a perfect understanding of reality, as was promised in 1 Corinthians 13:12 and also in 1 John 3:2.  This might explain why Pope John Paul II seemed to imply that heaven and hell are spiritual states more than places in some remarks he made in 1999.  He spoke most particularly of hell, describing it as the absence of God in a way that is consistent with 2 Thessalonians 1:9 “They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might”.  But the Pope also said “Heaven “is neither an abstraction not a physical place in the clouds, but a living, personal relationship with the Holy Trinity. It is our meeting with the Father which takes place in the risen Christ through the communion of the Holy Spirit…” this seems to suggest that the Pope supported the view that heaven is a spiritual state and not a place, contradicting his own Catechism.  Yet this is a misunderstanding of the Pope’s meaning. The Catechism affirms that through the sacraments we participate in Christ, who is in heaven at the right hand of the father, so through the sacraments Catholics have a “living personal relationship with the Holy Trinity” in heaven while they are still alive, tasting the heavenly reward they will one day enter each time they partake of the sacraments.  The Pope in his remarks was telling Catholics to focus on what heaven is to them now rather than speculating about what it might be like in the future in a way that cannot be accurate.  After all, the “Kingdom of Heaven” – at least as it will be after the end of time and judgment – does not exist yet. Also, neither the Bible nor Pope John Paul II’s remarks exclude the view that the Kingdom of heaven will ultimately be a place.  It could be that people are shut out from God’s presence while in a place that is Hell, or that they see God face to face and know God as he is while in the place that is heaven, described in other Biblical references.  Seeing heaven as a spiritual place casts doubt on the numerous references which suggest that heaven is a place.   Further, if heaven is a spiritual state only, this suggests that only our soul goes to heaven.  This implies that “I” am my soul and that my body is less important, which might encourage me to denigrate the body and/or see its actions as less important than those of the soul, as Gnostic heretics did during the first centuries of Christianity, and as Cathar heretics later did.  Because of the practical implications of these heretical positions, such as for sexual ethics, the Roman Catholic Catechism 362-368 specifically rejects these ideas, affirming that the body and the soul are a unity and are both necessary for eternal life.  The Roman Catholic theology of the body is consistent both with the doctrine of the incarnation, which shows the importance of the human body in that God chose to become incarnate in one, and with St Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honour God with your bodies.” So, it follows that the idea that heaven is a spiritual state is less consistent with the Bible and Christian Doctrine than the idea that heaven is a place.

Thirdly, the idea that heaven is a symbol of a person’s spiritual and moral life on Earth and not either a place or a spiritual state has grown in popularity through the later 20th and early 21st Centuries amongst ordinary believers, seeking to reconcile their faith with a scientific worldview. Amongst philosophers, Paul Tillich is most often associated with the argument that words used to describe heaven are symbolic.  However, by Tillich’s understanding of symbolic language, this does not suggest that heaven is not a place or spiritual state, because for Tillich symbolic language is cognitive and symbolic words participate in the objective reality to which they refer.  For Tillich, just as God is not a thing but is the “ground of our being”, ‘immortality does not mean a continuation of eternal life after death, but it means a quality which transcends temporality’ (Tillich 1963: 410 [vol. 3]).  This suggests that it is mistaken to imagine that heaven is a place like earth, because it will be timeless as God is timeless.  Nevertheless, Tillich did not suggest that “heaven is a symbol of a person’s spiritual and moral life on earth and not either a place or spiritual state.”  This idea might instead be associated with anti-realism and the belief that religious language takes its meaning not from correspondence and reference but from coherence within a religious form of life.  By this view, when a believer speaks of heaven, they would not be referring to a specific place or state after death, but to their hope for reward in union with God more generally.  It is fair to say that this position is neither compatible with the Bible nor with mainstream Christian doctrine.  The Bible speaks of what is “True” and not of what is “true for us” and so does Christian doctrine. Also, it is difficult to find scholars who really accept this anti-realist position.  While John Hick had some unconventional views about the afterlife and went so far as to describe the incarnation as a metaphor, he never suggested that talk of heaven is only symbolic.  In his earlier writings he implied that heaven was a place, populated by people in replica heavenly bodies, while in his later writings he spoke of some form of re-incarnation, whereby the energy of one life is reused in and influences future lives.  Hick was not an anti-realist and neither did he see heaven as a symbol.  Some textbooks suggest that DZ Phillips is a good example of a Christian who saw heaven as a symbol and not as a place or a spiritual state, and yet Patrick Horn describes this as a “caricature” of Phillips position, and is supported by others including Mikel Burley, who reject the basic claim that Phillips is a non-realist. While Phillips did claim that much religious discourse is “not fact stating”, he did not mean that it is non-cognitive but rather that it refers not to the worldly reality in which there can be facts, but to a different kind of reality.  For Tillich, Hick and Phillips, as for many other Philosophers of Religion through history, God’s existence is not like our existence.  God does not exist in the way that a cat exists, but that does not mean to say that he does not exist either.  As Aquinas put it, there is no-thing that is God… but God is not nothing.  Extending this to heaven, if heaven exists it would not be a place quite like earth but that doesn’t mean that it is not a place, so Tillich, Hick and Phillips is right to point out that religious language about heaven is neither like ordinary language nor only an expression of our own beliefs and hopes. This shows that the view that heaven is only a symbol is not compatible with the Bible, with mainstream Christian doctrines or indeed, even with the philosophy of those claimed to share this view.

In conclusion, the Roman Catholic view of heaven as a place is most consistent with the Bible and Christian doctrine.  While the view that heaven is a spiritual state is supported by some Biblical references and by parts of Catholic doctrine, both in the Catechism and in Pope John Paul II’s 1999 remarks, the view that heaven is ONLY a spiritual state is not compatible with the Bible or Christian doctrine as a whole. It could be that heaven is a spiritual state AND a place therefore.  Further, while some Philosophers have explored the nature of language that refers to heaven and have shown that claims are not ordinary fact-stating claims, the view that heaven is only a symbol is not found in scholarly works, probably because it is not compatible with either the Bible or with Christian doctrine.

Assess the claim that love (agape) is sufficient as the only source of Christian Ethics. [40]

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In John Chapter 13 Jesus taught his disciples “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”  The Greek word translated “love” in this passage is agape, which refers to the non-preferential humanitarian love that Jesus showed to people rather than the erotic eros or the friendly philos.  This is why some Christians regard agape-love as the only source of Christian ethics, because it was Jesus’ single new commandment and, of course, Jesus was God. Nevertheless, today few Christians agree with this, given that Roman Catholics follow heteronomous ethics and most Protestants a broader Divine Command ethic based on the whole Bible.  It follows that agape is not sufficient as the only source of Christian ethics.

Firstly, while John 13 does state that agape-love is the one commandment by which Christians will be known as Jesus’ disciples, Jesus said this in context.  In Jeremiah 31:33 God promised that “This is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel after that time,” declares the LORD. “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.” This suggests that Jesus was referring to the new covenant when he gave the commandment of agape-love, and meaning that Christians would follow all God’s law automatically in both letter and spirit, rather than that they would abandon the rest of the commandments and do whatever they felt was loving instead.  This interpretation is consistent with Matthew 5:18 “For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished…” and with the rest of Jesus ethical teaching, which is more demanding than the Law of Moses and not less.  For example, in Matthew 5 teaches that Jesus equated anger with murder and lustful looks with adultery.  While Jesus was demanding that Christians should act with agape – treating others as they would wish to be treated and not only following the letter of the law – there is no sense that agape is an alternative source of ethics to the rest of God’s commandments.   The point is that a person acting with agape would neither be angry with somebody nor murder them, neither look lustfully at a woman nor commit adultery with her.  In this way it would be wrong to say that agape is sufficient as the only source of Christian Ethics.

Secondly, for Roman Catholics seeing agape-love as a sufficient basis for Christian Ethics ignores the importance of a well-formed conscience as well as of Scripture, Tradition and Reason (Natural Law) in shaping Christian teaching. Following St Thomas Aquinas’ reasoning, the Catechism affirms that the primary source of Christian ethics is the conscience.  When we face a difficult choice, it is a moral duty to follow conscience.  Our conscientia is that part of our practical reason that applies the general principles of Christian Ethics that we know through synderesis (principles which are consistent with Scripture, Tradition and Natural Law) to the specific situation at hand.  Nevertheless, because consciences can err, leading us to pursue apparent and not real goods, and because synderesis is a habit that needs to be developed, we must take care that consciences are properly formed through a Catholic education.  Church teachings, which underpin Catholic education, provide a short-cut to the decisions that a well-formed conscience would make and when the conscience diverges from Catholic teachings it is a good indication that the conscience is erring.  Pope Pius XII rejected situation ethics in 1952, even before its more agapeistic versions were developed by Joseph Fletcher and JAT Robinson, because while it is consistent with the Roman Catholic understanding of Christian ethics in encouraging Christians to act in conscience, because it ignores the need to form consciences or ensure that their decisions are consistent with Scripture, Tradition and Reason, it leaves individuals vulnerable and without proper moral guidance when they face difficult situations. Fletcher’s claim that there should be no absolutes in Christian ethics, no always and no nevers, conflicts with the Bible’s long list of prescriptive commandments and suggests that agape is instead of the law rather than a fulfilment of it, as Jesus taught.  It is also difficult to define agape-love.  For example, Immanuel Kant argued that human beings are “pathologically loving” and that an action motivated by this love always treat human beings as ends in themselves and never as mere means.  By contrast, Fletcher defends what he calls the agapeic calculus, the greatest amount of neighbour-welfare for the largest number of neighbours possible, making agapeistic ethics seem much like utilitarianism.  While by Kant’s definition, agape could never justify involuntary abortion, suicide or adultery… but Fletcher freely discusses situations in which these would, he implies, be the most loving course of action. Because of this central confusion, it is difficult for people not to confuse a genuinely agapeistic motivation with a more preferential or even selfish motivation. All this shows that it is wrong to say that agape is sufficient as the only source of Christian Ethics.

On the other hand, it is true that Jesus sometimes seemed to break the laws of Moses situationally, for the benefit of people. According to Mark’s Gospel, He healed on the Sabbath and allowed his disciples to pluck ears of corn on the Sabbath, neither of which in life-threatening situations. It seems that Jesus was maximising peoples’ welfare and putting this ahead of obedience to the law, as Fletcher suggested.  Nevertheless, the laws concerning the Sabbath were, Jesus reasoned, there to serve man and therefore could and should be broken when they harm peoples’ welfare.  The same might not be true of other laws, such as the prohibition on murder in Exodus 20:13.  In Genesis 4 God says that Abel’s blood cries out to him from the ground and in Genesis 9 God demands an accounting for any human blood that is shed.  This might suggest that the law against murder is not only to serve humans, but also to serve God because God has an interest in human blood.  As St Paul confirms in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honour God with your bodies.” Which implies that human life is sacred and owned by God, so murder offends against God and not only human beings.  If this is true, then it would be impossible to act out of agape-love and kill a human being, even in situations as extreme as outlined by Fletcher, because agape puts love of God first and ahead of love of neighbour, according to Mark 12:28-32. Kant would be right that agape always treats humanity as an end and never as a means to an end, even of maximising human welfare. This suggests that agape-love is not sufficient as a source of Christian ethics, unless one specifies that it includes love of God as well as and ahead of love of neighbour, which would bring following all of God’s commandments into the scope of agape, rather than accepting God’s laws only selectively. This interpretation would be consistent with a more mainstream Protestant Ethic, which aims to follow all those Divine Commands in spirit at least. 

In conclusion, it is wrong to say that agape is sufficient as the only source of Christian Ethic unless one is very specific in defining agape, stipulating that it includes love of God as well as and ahead of love of neighbour, so leads to a broader biblical ethic which always upholds the sanctity of human life.  Certainly, it is wrong to say that situation ethics is the only or even an acceptable Christian Ethic.

In meta-ethics, the term “good” has an objective factual basis. Discuss [40]

/ vardycharlotte / Leave a comment

In meta-ethics, in the past most scholars have held that the term “good” has an objective factual basis. Moral realists include ethical monotheists, who see the term good referring to God and God’s commands, as well as ethical naturalists, who see the term good referring to some quality that can be observed, and ethical non-naturalists, who see the term good referring to a rational intuition. On the other hand, since the early part of the 20th Century moral non-realism has come to dominate.  For example, non-realists like AJ Ayer and JL Mackie argue that the term “good” has no objective factual basis because it does not refer to a verifiable point of reference but rather expresses subjective feelings and emotions.  Overall, today the claim that the term “good” has an objective factual basis is not persuasive.

Firstly, ethical monotheists claim that the term “good” has an objective factual basis in God and God’s commands.  The Bible claims that “only God is truly good” Mark 10:18 and this is supported by both Classical Theism and Theistic Personalism, which have in different ways established that God is the omnibenevolent creator and the source of goodness in human actions. Further, at least for Protestant Christians, faith is Sola Scriptura and the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide, which suggests that what is good depends on God’s commands, which can be checked against the Bible, objectively.  Nevertheless, ethical monotheism is not credible.  Plato’s Euthyphro Dilemma shows that if God is the source of moral standards, as ethical monotheism suggests, then God cannot be good but is an arbitrary tyrant.  On the other hand, if in fact there are objective moral standards that God follows, he can be good but is not the origin of goodness as ethical monotheists suggest, and neither is He all-powerful.  Bertrand Russell found the Euthyphro Dilemma so persuasive that he used it as the basis for a disproof of God. Further, centuries of Church history demonstrate the problems with the ethical monotheist claim that the term “good” has an objective factual basis, when Christians so rarely agree on what it is or involves. Biblical Criticism shows that God’s commandments are not clear from the Bible, existing in different sometimes contradictory lists, being obviously influenced by the contexts of the biblical authors and being wide open to interpretation.  For example, the ten commandments are detailed in Exodus 20 and Exodus 34 and again in Deuteronomy 5.  The versions are phrased and organized differently, and the order of the coveting commandments is different between Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5.  Further, Jesus said that the two greatest commandments were love God and love of neighbour in Mark 12 and also that love was the only commandment in John 13.  Which commandments should a Christian follow and with what priority?  Further, the Commandments have always been interpreted differently by different Christians.  For example, Catholics and Lutherans combine the first two commandments, “no other gods” and “no graven images” while other Protestant Christians separate the first two commandments, making “no graven images” a separate commandment and leading to radically different attitudes to art and architecture even within Protestantism.  These examples show how ethical monotheism and its claim that the term “good” has an objective factual basis is not credible.

Secondly, ethical naturalists claim that the term “good” has an objective factual basis which can be observed.  For example, the utilitarian Jeremy Bentham argued that “nature has placed mankind under two sovereign masters; the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain”, reasoning that “good” refers to actions which produce the maximum amount of pleasure, which can be observed and measured using the seven criteria of extent, duration, intensity, certainty, propinquity, purity and fecundity, as well as the minimum amount of pain.  However, ethical naturalism is undermined by the is-ought gap, which Hume explained thus “in every system of morality, which I have hitherto met with, I have always remarked, that the author proceeds for some time in the ordinary way of reasoning, and establishes the being of a God, or makes observations concerning human affairs; when of a sudden I am surprised to find, that instead of the usual copulations of propositions, is, and is not, I meet with no proposition that is not connected with an ought, or an ought not. This change is imperceptible; but is, however, of the last consequence. For as this ought, or ought not, expresses some new relation or affirmation, it’s necessary that it should be observed and explained; and while a reason should be given, for what seems altogether inconceivable, how this new relation can be a deduction from others, which are entirely different from it.”  Hume’s point was that we can observe nature and what is, but we can’t observe any basis for ought claims at all.  Ethical naturalism is based on assertion and not argument and has no observable factual basis for what it claims to be good. Further and despite being a moral realist and thinking that the term “good” has an objective factual basis, G.E Moore claimed that ethical naturalism relies on the “naturalistic fallacy”, the incorrect assumption that something is good because it occurs in nature or is considered normal in society.  For Moore, just because something is natural or normal does not make it good.  For example, misogyny and sexual violence have been endemic through history and still are across the world today… this does not make these good or right.  This shows that the claim that the term good has an objective factual basis cannot b supported through ethical naturalism either.

On the other hand, G.E Moore and other ethical non-naturalists have conceded that what is good depends neither on the commands of God nor on anything that can be observed in nature.  Instead, drawing on Plato, they have argued that we know what is good as a rational intuition.  This explains why people find some actions which go against laws and don’t maximise happiness are good… such as a soldier disobeying orders and getting himself killed while trying to save a comrade.  Nevertheless, ethical non-naturalism is no more persuasive a basis for the claim that the term “good” has an objective factual basis than ethical monotheism or ethical naturalism.  The claim that we all know what goodness is as a rational intuition ignores the fact that people have widely different concepts of what is good.  Actions like that of the soldier are controversial… yes, some people would see him as a hero and say that his actions were “good” despite breaking the rules and compounding suffering… but many would reject this and argue that he should have obeyed orders and lived. Further, AJ Ayer was right to point out that claims about good, bad, right and wrong are better seen as expressions of subjective feelings and emotions, having no objective factual basis, than as having an objective basis in a rational intuition that we can’t observe or prove. Ayer’s argument develops that of Hume, that while we can observe what is, claims about what we ought to do are pure assertion and not verifiable.  Further, JL Mackie later agreed with Ayer, pointing out that ethical claims are based on an error and that moral judgments in fact “reflect adherence to and participation in different ways of life.”  Here Mackie was influenced by Wittgenstein, who had cast doubt on the ability of any term to have an “objective factual basis” arguing that meaning in language comes from usage and not reference so that it is not objective or factual. All these points suggest that ethical non-naturalism fails to provide any better defence of the claim that terms like “good” have an objective factual basis than ethical monotheism and ethical naturalism and that in fact ethical non-realism is more persuasive in its suggestion that terms like “good” have only a subjective basis.

In conclusion, the term “good” has no objective factual basis but is rather subjective and best understood as an expression of personal or communal feelings and emotions.  Today, ethical realism lacks credibility, so attention should be focused on refining ethical non-realism to provide the best possible explanation for how and why people use ethical language.