The Sermon on the Mount guided Bonhoeffer's ethics in his decisive early opposition to Hitler. His interpretation was guided by a hermeneutic of renunciation. But the Sermon is strangely missing in his Ethics. The context had shifted; he needed to confront a massive concentration of power — crucial in our context as well. We need to see that the structure of the Sermon is not dyadic antitheses of renunciation, but triadic transforming initiatives of confrontation — significantly more helpful in confronting (...) power, and in recovering its original meaning. We need to heal the historic split between the Sermon and Christian ethics. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Compassionate Justice: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue with Two Gospel Parables on Law, Crime, and Restorative Justice by Christopher D. MarshallGlen StassenCompassionate Justice: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue with Two Gospel Parables on Law, Crime, and Restorative Justice CHRISTOPHER D. MARSHALL Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2012. 386 pp. $33.60Christopher Marshall is known to Society of Christian Ethics members for his highly acclaimed book on restorative justice, Beyond Retribution, and for his plenary (...) address at the SCE annual meeting published in the JSCE 27, no. 2 (2007). The plenary address forms one chapter of the present Compassionate Justice. Well [End Page 221] informed on ethics, criminal justice, and human rights, Marshall is a New Testament scholar at Victoria University in New Zealand.Marshall points out that the two best-known of Jesus’s parables—the Compassionate Samaritan, and the Prodigal Son—have been the most influential of Jesus’s parables in Western culture and legal theory. The Compassionate Samaritan is Jesus’s response to a lawyer’s question that answers a central legal question of the time: Who is my neighbor, whom I am obligated by Leviticus 19:7 to love as myself? In the Prodigal Son, the three main characters in legal offense are clearly portrayed as the offender, the victim, and the law-abiding community; in turn, as Marshall points out, “the older brother’s reaction centers directly on the justice of his father’s actions” (192–93). Marshall argues that present legal theory can learn from careful dialogue with these two parables. These parables are not only historically influential but also so insightfully and beautifully crafted that dialogue with them can bring incisive insights. In addition, dialogue with them presses Anglo-Saxon liberalism where it is weak and needs to grow.The parable of the Compassionate Samaritan opens up questions about the need for Good Samaritan laws that defend persons who come to the aid of a person in danger of death (e.g., from an accident, fire, or drowning) against liability for inadvertently and unintentionally causing damage. Under present Anglo-Saxon law, such good Samaritans can be sued for damages. This is not the case, however, in most European countries. Similarly, most European and Latin American countries have bad Samaritan laws: Where “victims are in mortal danger and unable to save themselves,” there is a legal duty for “those who are consciously aware of the victim’s predicament, who are close enough to intervene, and who have the effective means of intervention available to them” to come to the aid of the victims. “The most glaring exception to this pattern,” Marshall argues, “occurs in Anglo-American legal systems” because of liberalism’s maximization of individual liberty even against coercion to come to the aid of persons who would die if no help arrives (155). Samaritan laws “give formal expression to the supreme value of human life, to the bonds of solidarity and empathy that comprise human identity and that bind people together in social community, and to ongoing need human beings have to be committed to one another’s rescue and restoration when severe harm befalls them” (174).Responding to the parable of the Prodigal Son, Marshall argues that both compassion and repentance are crucial for understanding the humanity and the sufferings of persons being defended or judged by law. This does not replace the standard tools of legal interpretation; it takes account of the more holistic context (288–90). In fact, “unreflective compassion can be dangerous and distorting” (296). Marshall discusses the complications insightfully and in a balanced [End Page 222] way. He concludes with an extensive discussion and refutation of perhaps the most important book-length criticism of restorative justice.Marshall’s interpretation of these two parables surpasses any other that I have read. His sensitive and thoughtful analysis of the experience of victimization goes beyond any other interpretation of the Compassionate Samaritan that I have seen. In this he resembles Daniel Philpott’s interpretation of victimization in Just and Unjust Peace (Oxford University Press, 2012). His description of the shameful rupture of relationship with father, family, and community by the prodigal son goes well beyond what I have seen previously. I think... (shrink)

Glen Stassen has approached his life and work "as if Jesus mattered," and this new collection of essays in his honor demonstrates that the contributors share that commitment, each in her or his own way. Ethics as if Jesus Mattered will introduce Stassen's work to a new generation, advance dialogue and debate in Christian ethics, and inspire more faithful discipleship just as it honors one whom the contributors consider a mentor.

In The Kingdom of God in America, H. Richard Niebuhr argued that three dimensions are crucial for transformative faith: the sovereignty of God over all; the independence of the living God from captivity to human ideologies or institutions; and a revolutionary strategy with particular normative content from God's self-revelation in Jesus Christ. Without the historically particular content of the way of Jesus, Christian faith has a vacuum only too eagerly filled by alien ideologies. Hence Niebuhr begins Christ and Culture with (...) a historically particular and concrete understanding of the way of Jesus Christ, and evaluates the five types with this three-dimensional standard. The puzzle is that the farther the book goes, the thinner Jesus becomes, until the concluding chapter backs off from evaluation. Niebuhr moved back to his more Christocentric ethics before he died, and thus recovered his prophetic edge. To learn from Niebuhr's history and teach a transformative faith not accommodated to ideologies of injustice, ethics needs to recover a thicker Jesus. Helpful resources are emerging from which Christian ethicists can draw rich help: the third quest of the historical Jesus, new exegetical and canonical approaches, the new emphasis on normative practices, historically situated narrative ethics, and some models by Christian ethicists, all of which point to a thicker, richer, historically particular way of Jesus in the prophetic tradition of Israel. (shrink)

Eighteen Christian theologians and ethicists offer a rich engagement with the theological ethics of Glen Stassen (1936-2014).

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Just and Unjust Peace: An Ethic of Political Reconciliation by Daniel PhilpottGlen StassenJust and Unjust Peace: An Ethic of Political Reconciliation Daniel Philpott New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. 365pp. $29.95Just and Unjust Peace deals with an important question: What does a holistic framework of justice consist of in the wake of its massive despoliation? The wounds of political injustice include the following: violation of the victim’s human (...) rights, harms to the victim’s person, the victim’s ignorance of the source and circumstances of political injustices, the lack of acknowledgment of the suffering, the standing victory of the wrongdoer’s political injustice, and harm to the person of the wrongdoer. In such situations, Philpott argues, “what the government and community withhold is... an acknowledgment not only that a victim has rights but also that his rights were violated and that he suffered because of this violation” (37).The definition of justice in this context of wounds is reconciliation. It “encompasses peace settlements, human rights, democracy, and other key goals of negative and positive peace [as well as]... a broad restoration of right relationship involving a multiplicity of practices that each redress wounds of injustice in a particular way” (48–49).Daniel Philpott affirms peace as human rights, equality, and the rule of law, plus actors and institutions like the United Nations that spread this justice. He presents a fair summary of contending positions on human rights and works to develop overlapping agreement. “What is most essential to right relationship in the political order is human rights, their popular legitimacy, and their corresponding virtues” (55). But also, “It is in redressing wrong conduct—the other dimension of justice—that political reconciliation becomes far more distinctive” (55). This requires a deeper understanding of just peacemaking with restorative justice based in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and in insightful assessment of the burgeoning practices of truth commissions and restorative justice in the transitions from dictatorship to democracy.Philpott’s “rooted reason” invites different religions to speak from their depths but also encourages them to speak with reasons that can convince in public discourse (18, 20). Envisioning the incorporation of reconciliation into the modern state “is the life’s work of Rabbi Marc Gopin. In today’s Middle East, [End Page 211] Gopin argues, Jews as well as Christians and Muslims cannot afford to ignore the peacebuilding potential of traditional religious concepts” (132). Philpott also exhibits sensitive understanding of Islam, asking, “Do Islamic texts and traditions contain the materials for the construction of the ethic of political reconciliation that I am proposing? Can Muslims, on the basis of their religious convictions, join in an overlapping consensus on such an ethic?” His answer is a clear yes (153).He identifies and assesses six practices of a politics of reconciliation. The first involves building socially just institutions and relations between states: “Since 1974, some ninety societies... have sought to replace dictatorships with democracies.... A similarly intense global wave of peace operations sponsored by the United Nations... has sought to foster human rights and democratic institutions in states that have seen civil war” (175–76). The second has to do with the practices of political acknowledgment of wrongs: “Human rights are the standard that gives truth commissions and other public forms of acknowledgment form and direction” (188). The third pertains to reparations, with attention to the ongoing effects of historical injustices for descendants (195 and 201). The fourth addresses judicial punishment: “In practicing judicial punishment, a state redresses the violation of the victim’s rights insofar as it expresses, reaffirms, and thereby strengthens human rights as the legally valid values of its realm or of relations between it and another state” (237). The fifth is apology: “Like all of the other practices, apologies performed in political contexts have grown in frequency” (198). Finally, there is forgiveness. “Political injustices harm victims by robbing them of their agency and of their ability to pursue their own and others’ flourishing.... Forgiveness... re-empowers the victim as agent... [and liberates] from anger and resentment” and can also lead to recognition of the victim’s suffering, and to mutual respect for human rights (266–68... (shrink)

DATA SHOW THAT THE STRATEGY OF ARGUING THAT A WAR IS UNJUST, or that we should oppose all wars, always loses the national debate that occurs before a war. Data also show, however, that articulating an alternative to the war fares much better. Facing this reality requires us to develop an additional ethic besides just war and pacifism—an ethic that articulates specific alternatives to a war.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Church for the World: A Theology of Public Witness by Jennifer McBrideGlen StassenThe Church for the World: A Theology of Public Witness Jennifer McBride New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. 310 pp. $74.00Jennifer McBride offers the brilliant proposal that Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s theme of repentance is the right ingredient for our pluralistic and democratic context, which needs a nontriumphal Christian witness. [End Page 199]My focus on confession and (...) repentance as a nontriumphal public witness is aimed... mostly at white Protestants who benefit in countless recognized and unrecognized ways from being part of the dominant culture, because this reflects my own social location and the churches and para-church groups in which I was raised. Bonhoeffer writes... from a position of social power and privilege and argues from that place that the acknowledgment of guilt is definitive for the church. My theology of public witness defines the church as the body called to repentance—as the body called, in the words of Bonhoeffer, to accept guilt or take responsibility for social sin.(9)McBride shows that “repentance” carries various connotations in Bonhoeffer’s writings. In Discipleship, he “links metanoia with the church’s conformation to the crucified Christ (a prevalent theme throughout his theology).” In Ethics, he links “repentance to the church’s this-worldly activity when he defines the church’s repentance as preparing this ‘penultimate’ world for its redemptive transformation.” In Letters and Papers from Prison, he defines metanoia as “living completely in” this world’s tasks, questions, successes and failures, experiences, and perplexities, taking seriously the suffering of God in the world (14). “As the acceptance of divine judgment, repentance participates in the unfolding of redemption. Thus, it is... energized by hope for the world and humanity, animated by joyful expectation as much as lament, and oriented toward future transformation as much as past and present sin” (107). Interpreting repentance through the person of Christ directly challenges the common understanding that repentance primarily concerns one’s individual standing before God; instead, as participation in Christ, repentance constitutes existence for others. Her interpretation is far richer and more insightful than I can represent in a short review.McBride bases her argument on three dimensions of Bonhoeffer’s theology: Christology, this-worldliness, and ecclesiology (12). By “Christology,” she is pointing to “nothing other than the crucified Christ who accepts responsibility for sin” (139). By “this-worldliness,” we can also point to Christology, in Bonhoeffer’s incarnational theme of entering into the full dimensions of human life. McBride’s ecclesiology urges “that the church’s presence in public life be conformed to Christ’s mode of being in the world” (54).In his Ethics (134–45) Bonhoeffer wrote a profound confession of his own, the churches’ and nation’s guilt that was taken up by some churches and church groups after the war’s end, and then by President Richard von Weizsäcker and Chancellor Willy Brandt. This public repentance has been the key to healing within Germany and in its relation with other nations.McBride credits Larry Rasmussen and John de Gruchy for inspiring us to develop new implications of Bonhoeffer’s theological ethics for our different contexts. So she goes “beyond Bonhoeffer with Bonhoeffer.” [End Page 200]McBride appreciates the pioneering work of Christine Schliesser, Everyone Who Acts Responsibly Becomes Guilty, for noticing that Bonhoeffer’s central concept of “acceptance of guilt has not been examined systematically by previous scholars.” She goes beyond Schliesser, emphasizing that as public witness, the church’s confession unto repentance consists of communal, more than individual, acceptance of guilt—“especially the myriad social/structural evils of our political, social, and economic systems.” She appreciates Stanley Hauerwas’s emphasis on ecclesiology but urges him to develop a theology of public witness that communicates that Christ and the church are for, not against, the world, with its pluralistic, not monolithic, culture. She appreciates Jim Wallis’s Call to Conversion, “a clear, detailed, and theologically sophisticated appeal for ecclesial conversion, especially in regard to poverty and war,” but criticizes God’s Politics for being insufficiently theological. She concludes with an ethnographic study of two emerging churches, Eleuthero in Maine... (shrink)

In our Age of Interaction, we need a historically based method for validating our ethics as standing on solid ground. Applying such a method to historical test times such as the Third Reich, the US Civil Rights Movement, and others, indicates that an ethic of incarnational discipleship, trinitarianly interpreted, passes the test. But this requires an interpretation of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount that corrects idealist interpretations, and points instead to realistic practices of deliverance. A new paradigm for interpreting the (...) Sermon on the Mount is demonstrated, with fourteen grace-based transforming initiatives of realistic deliverance from vicious cycles. A hermeneutic of analogical imagination is advocated for relating Jesus' practices in his context to effective practices of deliverance in our historical context. This points to realistic practices of just peacemaking that are effective in preventing wars and creating conditions that lead toward peace — and therefore are realistic for social ethics. (shrink)

Just peacemaking theory is a new paradigm for Christian ethics alongside just war theory and pacifism. It answers a different question than just war theory and pacifism seek to answer: not the question of justification, but prevention. The ethical norms of just peacemaking are not ideals or principles, but realistic, historically situated practices that are empirically demonstrating their effectiveness in preventing war. They are interactive, community practices that inherently engage in dialogue with diverse others, as befits a postmodern or pluralistic (...) age. By no means does just peacemaking theory predict that there will be no more wars, or that the state is withering away, but it focuses on realistic, empirical evidence that ten historically effective practices are in fact preventing wars, and therefore, they have similar obligatoriness as do the principles of just war theory and pacifism. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Compassionate Justice: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue with Two Gospel Parables on Law, Crime, and Restorative Justice by Christopher D. MarshallGlen StassenCompassionate Justice: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue with Two Gospel Parables on Law, Crime, and Restorative Justice CHRISTOPHER D. MARSHALL Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2012. 386 pp. $33.60Christopher Marshall is known to Society of Christian Ethics members for his highly acclaimed book on restorative justice, Beyond Retribution, and for his plenary (...) address at the SCE annual meeting published in the JSCE 27, no. 2 (2007). The plenary address forms one chapter of the present Compassionate Justice. Well [End Page 221] informed on ethics, criminal justice, and human rights, Marshall is a New Testament scholar at Victoria University in New Zealand.Marshall points out that the two best-known of Jesus’s parables—the Compassionate Samaritan, and the Prodigal Son—have been the most influential of Jesus’s parables in Western culture and legal theory. The Compassionate Samaritan is Jesus’s response to a lawyer’s question that answers a central legal question of the time: Who is my neighbor, whom I am obligated by Leviticus 19:7 to love as myself? In the Prodigal Son, the three main characters in legal offense are clearly portrayed as the offender, the victim, and the law-abiding community; in turn, as Marshall points out, “the older brother’s reaction centers directly on the justice of his father’s actions” (192–93). Marshall argues that present legal theory can learn from careful dialogue with these two parables. These parables are not only historically influential but also so insightfully and beautifully crafted that dialogue with them can bring incisive insights. In addition, dialogue with them presses Anglo-Saxon liberalism where it is weak and needs to grow.The parable of the Compassionate Samaritan opens up questions about the need for Good Samaritan laws that defend persons who come to the aid of a person in danger of death (e.g., from an accident, fire, or drowning) against liability for inadvertently and unintentionally causing damage. Under present Anglo-Saxon law, such good Samaritans can be sued for damages. This is not the case, however, in most European countries. Similarly, most European and Latin American countries have bad Samaritan laws: Where “victims are in mortal danger and unable to save themselves,” there is a legal duty for “those who are consciously aware of the victim’s predicament, who are close enough to intervene, and who have the effective means of intervention available to them” to come to the aid of the victims. “The most glaring exception to this pattern,” Marshall argues, “occurs in Anglo-American legal systems” because of liberalism’s maximization of individual liberty even against coercion to come to the aid of persons who would die if no help arrives (155). Samaritan laws “give formal expression to the supreme value of human life, to the bonds of solidarity and empathy that comprise human identity and that bind people together in social community, and to ongoing need human beings have to be committed to one another’s rescue and restoration when severe harm befalls them” (174).Responding to the parable of the Prodigal Son, Marshall argues that both compassion and repentance are crucial for understanding the humanity and the sufferings of persons being defended or judged by law. This does not replace the standard tools of legal interpretation; it takes account of the more holistic context (288–90). In fact, “unreflective compassion can be dangerous and distorting” (296). Marshall discusses the complications insightfully and in a balanced [End Page 222] way. He concludes with an extensive discussion and refutation of perhaps the most important book-length criticism of restorative justice.Marshall’s interpretation of these two parables surpasses any other that I have read. His sensitive and thoughtful analysis of the experience of victimization goes beyond any other interpretation of the Compassionate Samaritan that I have seen. In this he resembles Daniel Philpott’s interpretation of victimization in Just and Unjust Peace (Oxford University Press, 2012). His description of the shameful rupture of relationship with father, family, and community by the prodigal son goes well beyond what I have seen previously. I think... (shrink)