1981 [Reply to Chantry’s God’s
Righteous Kingdom] Covenant Media Foundation, 800/553-3938
In my book,
Theonomy in Christian Ethics (Craig
Press, 1977), I argued that God’s word is authoritative over all areas of life
(the premise of a Christian world-and-life-view), that within the Scripture we
should presume continuity between Old and New Testament principles and
regulations until God’s revelation tells us otherwise (the premise of covenant
theology), and that therefore the Old Testament law offers us a model for
socio-political reconstruction in our own day.
Walter Chantry made it clear that, in his opinion, this theonomic or
“reconstructionist” position was horrifying “legalism” (The Banner of Truth, nos. 175 & 178: April & July, 1978);
in personal correspondence he had further recriminations against it, despite my
expressed belief that our two positions on ethics were not greatly different I
called upon Mr. Chantry to offer substantiating argumentation from Scripture
for his denunciation of the theonomic (reconstructionist) perspective, but at
the time he offered none. In 1980,
however, the Banner of Truth Trust published Mr. Chantry’s new book, God’s Righteous Kingdom, in which he
argues against the idea of “social reconstruction” modeled on the Mosaic civil
code – although he declines to tell his readers who his opponents are so that
the readers can check out the two positions for themselves (p. 11). He says that those who are familiar “with
the true currency of heaven” need not study “the counterfeits” (p. 12)!
And what a
counterfeit the reconstructionist position is in Chantry’s eyes! Although every charge he levels is corrected
in either Theonomy or my personal
correspondence, Chantry proceeds to charge reconstructionists with smothering
the inward, spiritual dimension, shifting attention from purity of soul to
externals, and turning aside from a conscious walk with God in prayer,
meditation, and evangelism (pp. 17, 21, 23, 25, 26, 29, 54). Persisting in these false accusations is an
inexcusable attempt to poison his readers’ minds; in a word, it is
slander. The personal attacks on the
piety of reconstructionists is matched by the vehemence of the theological
denunciations of their position as perverse, deformed, twisted, a mutilation,
sinister, and aberrant (pp. 9, 10, 11, 47, 123). Those who hold it are said to be unlearned (p. 87), and Chantry
comes very close to asserting that they do not belong to God’s kingdom at all
(p. 18). The “law-enthusiasts” are
accused of promoting a “new legalism” (p. 100). In the face of this kind of uncharitable and unscholarly
lambasting of reconstructionist thought, we might expect a refutation of it
whose cogency is commensurate. But it
is not forthcoming.
Chantry’s
book makes a number of unnecessary mistakes which betray a lack of thorough
reflection. He says that Christ’s
kingdom (His victorious reign, p. 8) is nowhere in the New Testament identified
with the millennium (p. 18) – despite the obvious connection of the millennial
age in Revelation 20 with reigning with Christ on thrones! Although he has a commendable plea for
commitment to the church in our day, Chantry wants to make “church” and
“kingdom” practically interchangeable as synonyms (pp. 142-143) – despite the
difference in their denotations (Matthew 13:38, 41) and connotations (Acts
28:23). Chantry mistakenly claims that
the New Testament never says that the kingdom was in existence prior to the
Messiah’s advent – contrary to Matthew 21:43.
Moving away from Paul toward Plotinus, he overstates his case (equivocating
at points on terms like “spiritual”) by stating that the kingdom does not
concern the temporal, the material, the social, or the external (pp. 15, 18,
51, 62) – even though the New Testament says that it comes on earth (Matthew
6:10; Revelation 5:10), brings preeminence to Christ in all things (Colossians 1:13-20), is profitable for “the life that
now is” (I Timothy 4:8; Matthew 6:25-33), and touches on everything, even our
eating and drinking (I Corinthians 10:31).
Connected with this same neoplatonic tendency is Chantry’s view that sin
and salvation can be understood in terms of the subservience of the spiritual
to the animal, physical aspect of man, and vice verse (pp. 20-21, 59), his view
that evangelism is far more important than the cultural mandate (p. 27, rather
than the two being equally necessary to each other), and his evaluation that –
because the Holy Spirit was not yet given in gospel measure – the Mosaic age
necessarily emphasized matters which were external, outward, material, or national
(pp. 50-53, 87, 94, 95). The
“Spirituality” of the New Covenant, however, pertains to the work of the Holy
Spirit (2 Corinthians 3:6; Romans 8:4), not to a de-emphasis on the whole man
or the goodness of God’s creation (e.g., I Corinthians 15:20-27; Hebrews 2:5-9;
I Timothy 4:4-5; I Peter 1:15); the profound inwardness of New Covenant
religion must be made visible in public righteousness (James 1:27;
2:16-17). The Old Covenant did not lack
ethical concern for inward purity
(e.g., Deuteronomy 6:4-6; Leviticus 19:17-18) – as we see from Jesus citing its
spiritual requirements (Matthew 22:37-40, and which even Chantry must admit, p.
95) – but did not enjoy the Pentecostal
power of the Holy spirit in the New Covenant. Chantry is thinking in the wrong categories.
Unwittingly
Chantry argues in a way and takes a position at many points in his book which
is identical with theonomic ethics.
What makes this so odd is his insisting in personal correspondence that
the difference between us is not minor, and his published animosity toward the
position renders his pervasive agreement with it mystifying as well. Chantry says that a vague subjectivism
cannot guide us in defining our unchanging moral duties; they must thus be
found in the Bible – indeed, in the Old Testament law (pp. 77, 79, 80-81; cf. Theonomy, chapters 1, 14, 15). Chantry sees Matthew 5:17 as teaching the
“validating and confirming” ministry of Jesus regarding the Old Testament (p.
44; cf. Theonomy, chapter 2); Jesus
did not deliver a new standard of ethics but rather a clear exposition of the
old statutes (pp. 81, 95; cf. Theonomy,
chapter 3). Chantry states: “Since his
own upright character is the immutable foundation, the requirements made by
God’s righteousness must be constant and unchanging” (p. 69, also pp. 65-69,
85; cf. Theonomy, chapter 5). With respect to Christ and the law, Chantry
observes that “his death for ever establishes the inviolability of the moral
law” (p. 71; cf. Theonomy, chapter
6). Moreover, the Holy Spirit empowers
believers to keep the moral law, according to Chantry (pp. 72-73; cf. Theonomy, chapter 7). Chantry appeals to the unity of the
covenants in Scripture (p. 103), so that the New Covenant does not invalidate
the Old Covenant (p. 45); he is against divorcing the covenants (rendering
morality merely temporary requirements for temporary ages) since there is a
unity of revelation concerning the character and moral law of God throughout
Scripture (pp. 46-47, 73; cf. Theonomy,
chapter 8). The New Testament
repeatedly endorses the Old Testament law by citing it as authoritative,
without disclaimers (pp. 84-86, 92; cf. Theonomy,
chapter 12). Moreover, the moral law is
harmonious with the New Testament message about the kingdom, love, and salvation
by grace, observes Chantry (pp. 89-92, 97; cf. Theonomy, chapters 4, 11).
When the Old Testament expectation is seen in conjunction with all that
the New Testament says about the statutes of the Old Testament, finally, we
understand the necessity of distinguishing between types of laws, like moral
and ceremonial (pp. 113-114; cf. Theonomy,
chapter 9). Having offered something of
a synopsis of the argumentation in the first half of Theonomy in Christian Ethics, it is not surprising that Chantry can
say – in good theonomic spirit – that sin is identical in all ages (p.
74). What Chantry has not perceived is
that the very same arguments which he has utilized in support the validity of
the Ten Commandments (which is his narrow aim in the above considerations) are
equally supportive of the validity of the case
(judicial) laws of the Old
Testament as well. To put it another
way: his arguments prove the validity of the Decalogue to be sure, but they do not prove that only the Decalogue is valid today.
Chantry has proved more than he realizes or wants to prove by arguing in
the way that he has. One example will
suffice: he points out that the New Testament appeals to the authority of laws
from the Decalogue, and he (correctly) concludes that the Decalogue is binding
in the New Testament. Since the New
Testament also appeals to the
authority of the case laws (e.g., I Corinthians 9:9; Mark 10:19) and the penal
sanctions (e.g., Matthew 15:4; Hebrews 2:2), Chantry should consistently accept
the validity of the case laws and penalties as
well. We will later see that such
consistency does not characterize his reasoning.
Before
coming to Chantry’s argumentation against
the judicial laws of the Old Testament, we need to pursue just a bit
further the evidence for his extensive agreement
with the theonomic position – even regarding the judicial laws
themselves! Despite his neoplatonic
glorification of the superiority of “spirit” over matter (inward over outward,
eternal over temporal, spiritual over physical, etc.) Chantry at places in his
book says we should not sharply divide sacred and secular (p. 60) or be against
the material world in ascetic fashion (p. 18).
God is (after all) interested
in matters of the present life, like citizenship concerns (p. 17). Along with reconstructionists Chantry says
that Christians must think through the bearings of righteousness upon all
issues of life and of our day (p. 37).
Light is needed even in the realm of politics or government (p.
38). Retreat from the world, Chantry says,
is not the Lord’s will (p. 33).
Instead, believers are gradually to bring the world under the sway of
Christ the King (p. 36) – in which case the impact of holiness will be felt
even in civil government (p. 38). A
reconstructionist could not be happier with such acknowledgments! But Chantry’s theonomic sentiments do not
end even there. He goes on to recognize
that the judicial laws of the Old Testament show “in principle” how the gospel
message should influence civil laws (p. 122).
He concedes that perhaps Christianity does have some useful advice for the crises of modern Western
civilization after all (p. 25). Chantry
goes so far as to assert: “we find a general wisdom of God imbedded in the
judicial system of Moses which can counsel us in modern affairs of state” (p.
121). He recommends that we re-examine
Western civil laws in the light of the “theocratic” laws of the Old Testament,
even in such a penal issue as restitution (p. 122)! As we can see, Chantry has to admit at isolated points in his
book that the reconstructionist (or theonomic) goals and models are not wrong
in principle after all.
Chantry has
argued for the continuing validity of the Mosaic law in the same fashion as
does the reconstructionist theonomist).
Chantry has conceded that in principle the judicial laws of Moses set
forth political wisdom which should guide our civil practices today. Now, if Chantry says just about everything
that a reconstructionist finds crucial to his position, why has Chantry elsewhere denounced the position as a perverted and
sinister mutilation of Biblical doctrine?
Why the emotional vehemence, the uncharitable name-calling, and the wild
charge of “new legalism”? Why should
Chantry fuss so much about an ethical perspective which is so very close to his
own (especially when one scans the near horizon of other evangelical approaches
to ethics, and then the far horizon of secular philosophical options in
ethics)? I have no good answer to these
questions – no justification for his severe words – but I might have a likely
explanation. Although there is no
excuse for it, it might seem that the reason why Chantry advocates the
reconstructionist position in large extent but condemns it in name is that he does not actually know what the position is that
he has decided to criticize in print. I
would not want to advance this explanation were it not for the fact that there
is so much overwhelming evidence in his book that he does not understand the
reconstructionist position sufficiently well to portray it accurately. (Back in
1978 it was necessary for me to correct a long list of misrepresentations of
the theonomic position which Chantry had suggested in The Banner of Truth: see no. 178: July, pp. 30-31). In his book Chantry maintains that the
reconstructionist does not see any
distinctions between the Old and new Covenants (p. 47). Nothing could be further from the truth (Theonomy, pp. 189194, 207-216, p. 366:
“radical differences”). Chantry claims
that the reconstructionist, like the ancient Jews and modern liberals, hopes
for a material paradise (p. 61) which will be created by “lifting” the judicial
laws out of the Mosaic code and directly writing them on the law-books of
modern laws out of the Mosaic code and directly writing them on the law-books
of modern states (pp. 99, 111), thereby bringing back the “life style identical
to that of Moses’ day” (p. 43). But
this is a preposterous representation; the theonomist recognizes the cultural
differences between modern Western nations and ancient Israel (who doesn’t?!),
maintains that it is the principle illustrated by the judicial laws which is
binding today – not the literal case (Theonomy,
pp. 260, 313-314, 540-541)—knows that modern application of the Mosaic law is
not a simple issue (Theonomy, pp.
xiv, 470). Chantry says that
reconstructionists aim to create a church-state (p. 52) – despite my entire
chapter against the notion (Theonomy, chapter 20)! Chantry charges that reconstructionists want
to “impose’ the judicial laws of Moses on modern states “with carnal weapons of
war” (pp. 37, 100, 111). The
misrepresentations move from the silly to the malicious here. Theonomists repudiate the imposition of a
new standard by force on an unwilling populus, advocating instead the methods
of preaching and persuasion (Theonomy,
pp. 257, 382, 386, 391-392, 414-417, 427, 475-479, 524); the church’s use of
the sword is utterly repudiated (Theonomy,
pp. 2, 411, 414-423, 416, 521, 575).
The evidence seems abundantly clear, then, that Chantry has been
criticizing a counterfeit position, one which nobody maintains – least of all
the reconstructionist. He is jousting
with a straw-man, the erection of which cannot be warranted from the literature
of reconstructionist writers.
If Chantry
does not understand the position he attacks, then many will conclude that he is
in no position to publish his criticisms and can be justly ignored. This may be so, but I choose to carry on
with this reply, for the misrepresentation of the reconstructionist position which
is advanced most often by Chantry and which may be most telling for his
difference with the position has yet to be given. According to Chantry, the reconstructionist wants to follow all of the Old Testament regulations for
all times, to keep the Mosaic code in its entirety,
to adopt Old Testament regulations wholesale
(pp. 11, 100, 123). He imagines that
the reconstructionist attempts “to bind the Christian conscience to live by the
entire system of Moses in its exhaustive detail” (p. 122). The problem with this portrayal is that it
is easily corrected by reading Theonomy,
where it is taught that the ceremonial laws, certain regulations tied to the
land of Palestine, and the outer cultural illustration of the judicial laws
have been laid aside; moreover, these points were detailed to Mr. Chantry in my
personal correspondence with him between April and July of 1978. He has no defense for this misleading
portrayal of the reconstructionist viewpoint.
Jesus spoke of the validity of the Old Testament law down to the jot and
the tittle of it, and the theonomist rightly reiterates that principle;
however, the principle offers us the presumption
which we should follow regarding Old Testament laws until New Testament
revelation qualifies or sets them aside. Chantry’s overlooking of the many qualifications and changes which
the theonomist finds in the New Testament is inexcusable. The reconstructionist (theonomist) does not believe all of the Old Testament
regulations in their entirety are to be followed today wholesale. Such is a gross exaggeration. Nevertheless, this claim by Chantry
(especially as given on p. 122) may be the key to the genuine difference
between him and the reconstructionist regarding the validity of the judicial
laws of Moses. We have already noted
that Chantry is willing to apply the wisdom of some of these laws to the modern
state. Although the theonomist does not
advocate applying each and every one of them, as Chantry claimed, he probably
expects that the theonomist would be committed to applying more of them that he would.
Moreover, given the use of Chantry’s phrase “bind on the conscience,” I
would imagine that he might represent his position as seeing good advice in the Mosaic judicial laws,
while viewing the theonomist as finding in them binding obligation (regarding the illustrated principle). This construal of the difference between
Chantry and the reconstructionist gains warrant from the wording used by
Chantry when he is speaking favorably of the judicial laws and when he is
denouncing the reconstructionist position.
It is further warranted by the one example given us by Chantry. He indicates a willingness to “re-examine’
our civil laws regarding the punishment of a thief – and appears to advocate
the “greater wisdom” of restitution – but he presents the execution of
blasphemers as out of the question (pp. 120, 122). Thus he finds good advice in the laws of restitution, but he
would not also advocate following the penal requirement regarding
blasphemy. This suggests that, in his
eyes, the theonomist is wrong (perverse and sinister) to be willing to follow
more of the judicial laws than he would and to follow them as binding obligations, rather than as just
good advice. (If it should turn out
that this is not the way Chantry
actually sees the difference between himself and the reconstructionist, then I
frankly do not know if any sense can be made out of the two conflicting
tendencies in his book; it would then appear that Mr. Chantry has no clear and
consistent understanding of the issue before us.)
Since Mr.
Chantry believes that we would do well to follow some of the judicial laws of the Old Testament, but that it would
be perverse and sinister to follow other
judicial laws, we will quite naturally need to know when a judicial law used to
discriminate between these two classes.
How do we know when a judicial law is to be advocated and when another
should be repudiated? Does Chantry tell
us what this discriminating principle would be? Given the emotional denunciation of those who endorse more of the judicial law than he would, it would seem quite crucial
for him to tell his readers the standard by which they can judge the
acceptability of the various judicial laws of the Old Testament. Once we discover what, if any, objective
standard Chantry proposes we use, a second question that must be answered is,
does Scripture teach or support this discriminating standard? Finally, we will want to ask whether the
accurate application of that (Scriptural) standard demonstrates that
reconstructionists accept too much of
the judicial law, for it could rather
be that Chantry accepts too little of it according to the standard (when
properly used).
Our
problem, however, is that Chantry gives us no guidance as to how we must
discriminate between the judicial laws of the Old Testament. We know that he disagrees with the position
of Jon Zens, that an Old Testament law is canceled unless repeated in the New
Testament (pp. 43, 73-74). The
theonomist holds that Old Testament laws continue to be binding unless further
revelation teaches otherwise (Deut. 4:2; Ps. 119:160; Matt. 5:19; 2 Tim.
3:16-17), with the result that most the judicial laws – having not been
modified or canceled by Scripture – are held to be binding in their principles
today; but Chantry has denounced the theonomic (or reconstructionist) position
as a mutilation of Biblical doctrine and as a “new legalism.” As much as they disagree, Zens and the
reconstructionists at least agree that one must have an objective,
Scripture-based way of discriminating between laws from the Old Testament which
are to be advocated and which are to be laid aside. Not agreeing with either the dispensationally-oriented position of
Zens or the covenantally-oriented position of theonomists, Chantry has offered
no objective alternative in his book.
How, then,
does Chantry know that his choice of
which judicial laws to follow is true to the mind of God? How can Chantry even check his own
reasoning, to be sure that it leads him to God-honoring conclusions about the
judicial laws? Can he have any
justification for advocating (or rejecting) the laws which he does? In light of Jesus’ warning, you would expect
that Chantry would make a point of advancing a justification of his
discrimination: “Therefore whoever breaks one of these least commandments and teaches men to do so shall be called
least in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:19). If the word of the Law-giver does not warrant the rejection of a
judicial law’s requirement today, what basis could a person have for presuming
to lay aside God’s law? Chantry’s
position appears to be this: instead of approaching the Mosaic law with the presumption that it is binding in
exhaustive detail (until further qualified by God Himself), we should read the
Mosaic law looking for whatever general
wisdom might be found within its
various provisions (see pp. 25, 121-122).
For instance, in comparing the Mosaic law of penal restitution to the
modern world’s practice of imprisonment, Chantry finds “greater wisdom” in
God’s law than in present penal practice.
Nevertheless, he does not
endorse following everything prescribed by the Mosaic judicial law. Presumably, the reason he would reject one of the judicial laws is that
he personally finds in it less wisdom. Less wisdom than whose? Either less than his own or than his modern
society’s. But can we not se how
arrogant this is! Moses told God’s
people that “all these statutes”
would be “your wisdom in the sight of
the peoples” (Deut. 4:6-8); indeed, “whosoever keeps the law is a wise son”
(Prov. 28:7). How can any Christian
think that he is wise enough to lay aside a law from God without specific
warrant from God? Do we, or does
our society, really have the wisdom to improve upon the wisdom revealed in all
of the Mosaic statutes? Experience as
well as revelation tell us plainly that sinful creatures are in no position to
challenge the wisdom of God’s directives – at any point. “Let God be
true, though all men are liars” (Romans 3:4).
Those who are committed to the Reformed principle of sola Scriptura must not allow Chantry or
anyone else to abrogate a law from God where God’s word has not taught its
abrogation or modification. If we do
not see the “greater wisdom” of all of God’s commandments, then we need to be changed – not God’s law. Thus the discriminating standard which Chantry has exemplified
(choosing which judicial laws to follow on the basis of personally perceived
wisdom in those to be advocated) cannot be accepted without sacrificing the
objective foundation of Christian theology.
He would in effect place the word of man in a judging position over the
word of God – contrary to James’ warning that we not become those who “speak
against the law” (James 4:11).
Chantry’s
subjectivism is a disconcerting lapse in his theological method. When Chantry asks in his book which
commandments constitute God’s unchanging will for mankind (that is, the “moral
law,” pp. 69, 73), he immediately insists that the question cannot be
adequately answered on some imprecise, vague, subjective standard, for we would
then be “adrift, without a definitive objective standard by which to judge
righteousness” (pp. 77-81). Why, then,
does Chantry turn around and take a subjective, selective attitude toward the
judicial law of the Old Testament? The
answer is this: Chantry presumes that he can pick and choose among the judicial
laws (on the basis of personally perceived wisdom in some of them) only because
he first assumes that as strictly
binding commandments they have all
been canceled. According to his thinking, the conscience is
not bound by the judicial laws (p. 122); they are merely “counsel” and “advice”
(pp. 25, 121) – the rejection of which in favor of other (uninspired) advice does not in any way incur divine
wrath. Thus for Chantry were to say
that God will, after all, punish those who turn aside from the “advice” of His
judicial laws, then Chantry would simply be advocating theonomic ethics with a
different vocabulary.) Chantry puts it
bluntly: the “judicial law has been abolished by Christ’s work on Calvary”;
“with the Spirit’s effusion, the saints have matured. Thus our Sovereign canceled the judicial law of Moses” (pp. 115,
123).
These bold
declarations raise some immediate questions, of course. Does Chantry hereby suggest that those who
have been redeemed by the work of Christ and filled with the Holy Spirit are
“mature” enough to set aside the earlier wisdom of God’s Spirit in revealing
the judicial law? Would that not be
simply another form of the same theological error which Mr. Chantry elsewhere
roundly condemns when found in Pentecostalists – the view that the
post-Pentecost experience of the Holy Spirit can lead saints to contradict what
the Spirit has revealed in Biblical doctrine (cf. Chantry’s Signs of the
Apostles, esp. chapter 7)? Lacking
Biblical support for their opinions, some Christians appeal to the inward work
of the Spirit as explaining the “wisdom” of their personal insights; Chantry is
quick to call this down in those who oppose his revered doctrines, but slow to
find the same theological method in himself.
Just about every conceivable belief can be (and has been) defended by
appealing to the “maturity” or “wisdom” which the Holy Spirit has allegedly
given some individuals, even though that belief contradicts the Spirit-given
Scriptures! Chantry boldly says that because of Spirit-given maturity the
Spirit-given judicial law has been canceled, implying that Spiritual maturity
leads to different ethical judgments than those founded on inspired law (since
the former is endorsed, while the latter is canceled). Paul taught, however, that Spiritual
maturity leads believers to keep the
law (Romans 8:4). Another question
arises when we consider all of the judicial laws as binding obligations (and
accordingly nobody will be punished for spurning the “advice” in some of them – which ones we cannot be sure), is it wise or mature for Chantry to
advocate any divinely abrogated judicial law? Since God has seen fit to repeal all of those laws, why would
Chantry support the modern enactment of any of them (as he does in his
book)? Why should anyone pay any
special attention to these repealed laws when it comes to drafting modern
legislation since they are both ancient and without theological
endorsement? If they now deserved
special consideration, presumably God would not have canceled them in the first
place and would surely punish the spurning of them in the end. Thus the various elements of Chantry’s
attitude toward the judicial law just do not seem to comport with each
other. Subjectivism and inconsistency
are conspicuous.
Putting
aside the above criticisms, we need to focus specifically on Chantry’s key
thesis now. He maintains that the
judicial laws of the Old Testament have been abolished, and that only the
Decalogue continues to be morally binding in the New Testament. This thesis is contrary to Biblical teaching
and practice in the most obvious ways.
Jesus warned against dismissing even the least Old Testament commandment (Matthew 5:19), and Paul taught
that every Old Testament scripture
instructs us in righteousness (2 Timothy 3:16-17). Not a single law, word, or stroke can be violated with impunity
(James 2:10; Matthew 4:4; 5:18). In
endorsing the Old Testament law the New Testament never stops to make a special
exception for the judicial laws.
Indeed, when Jesus summarized the entire law He quoted not the Ten
Commandments, but two extra-decalogical
laws about love (Matthew 22:37-39; cf. Deut. 6:5; Lev. 19:18). Laws outside of the Decalogue are quoted on
a par with the Ten Commandments (Mark 10:19).
Even the lighter demands of the law are not be left undone, said Jesus
(Luke 11:42). Thus Jesus condemned the
setting aside of the death penalty for incorrigible children (Matthew
15:4-5). Paul enforced the
extra-decalogical prohibition against incest (I Corinthians 5:1). The case law against homosexuality is upheld
in the New Testament (Romans 1:26-32).
The judicial rules of legal evidence are cited in the New Testament
(Matthew 18:16; I Timothy 5:9). Paul
authoritatively quotes the case law, “You shall not muzzle an ox as it treads,”
twice in the New Testament (I Corinthians 9:9; I Timothy 5:18). James applied the judicial law about prompt
pay for one’s employees (James 5:4).
The key New Testament injunctions about not avenging oneself, about
going to an offending brother, and about caring for one’s enemies are all taken
from the judicial laws of the Old Testament (Romans 12:19; Matthew 18:15;
Romans 12:20; Matthew 5:44). The New
Testament cites the judicial laws of the Old Testament too often, and without
apology or disclaimer, to accept at face value the bald claim that they have
been abolished by the death of Christ and the coming of the Spirit. Chantry is simply not convincing when he
makes such claims, for he comes into direct conflict with clear assertions and
conspicuous appeals of New Testament teachers.
He is certainly correct to say that the Decalogue had a unique place
among the various laws which were revealed in the Old Testament (pp. 87-88),
but he is mistaken to think that the uniqueness of the Decalogue is that it alone remains morally binding with the
coming of the New Covenant. “Not one
jot or one tittle will pass away from the law until heaven and earth pass
away,” said our Lord (Matthew 5:18).
What, then,
was the uniqueness of the Ten Commandments?
That God “added no more” to the Ten Commandments (Deut. 5:22) certainly
does not mean that no other laws were
revealed through Moses, or that no other laws were truly obligatory. How could the Decalogue be comprehensive and
complete as a moral code, then, given the historical fact that numerous other
commandments were actually added to it by God through Moses (and other Old
Testament writers)? The answer is not
hard to find (or even to imagine): Scripture tells us that the Ten commandments
were a summary expression of God'’
entire moral requirements. Because the
case laws (judicial laws) of the Old Testament are applications (illustrations
and qualifications) of the Ten commandments, the further revelation of these
laws did not add anything to the essential moral demands of the Decalogue. The “ten words” were part for the whole
(synecdoche), being the microcosmic
epitome of the entire covenant with its stipulations; the “ten words”
written on “two tablets” of stone stood for “the words of the covenant” as a
whole, thus being called the “tables of the covenant” itself (Exodus 34:28;
Deut. 4:13-14; 9:9-11, 15). Chantry
seems to recognize quite clearly that the Decalogue had this summary function
and character. He repeatedly calls it a
summary, a synopsis, a concise digest, a brief compendium, a compact expression
of our comprehensive duties (pp. 80, 82, 83, 84, 86, 96). The uniqueness of the Ten Commandments was
this summarizing nature. The Decalogue
simply said, “Thou shalt not kill.” The
case laws defined further what this meant: for example, protecting life with a
railing around your patio-roof (Deut. 22:8), distinguishing between
manslaughter and premeditated murder (Numbers 35:10-34), and executing
murderers (Exodus 21:12). The Decalogue
merely prohibited stealing, whereas the judicial laws defined economic integrity
as returning lost property (Deut. 22:10, prompt pay for your workers (Deut.
24:14-15), and not muzzling the treading ox (Deut. 25:4). The judicial laws, then, expounded what the
summary laws in the Decalogue meant.
Chantry seems to understand that the judicial laws administered the
regulations of the Decalogue and were thus anchored in it (pp. 118-119). It is strange, therefore, that he does not
think through the implications of this insight and come to recognize that he
cannot endorse the continuing validity today of only the Decalogue.
We have
observed that the judicial laws exposit or define the meaning of the Ten
(summary) Commandments. Thus in the Old
Testament “Thou shalt not commit adultery” was a generalized requirement of
sexual purity, including (among other things) the duty to avoid incest,
homosexuality, and bestiality (cf. Lev. 20:11-16). Obedience to the summary command meant, then, not committing
bestiality in the Old Testament. Now
Mr. Chantry maintains that the judicial laws have been abolished by Christ, and
we know from examination that the New Testament does not have a prohibition
against bestiality. Thus on Chantry’s
terms, one’s conscience is not bound by any prohibition against sexual
relations with animals today. If we
follow out Chantry’s view of the law, then, we find that the same words – “Thou shalt not commit
adultery” – require somewhat different
things, depending on whether they are used in the Old Testament (where they prohibit bestiality) or in the New
Testament (where they permit
bestiality). On Chantry’s thesis the meaning of the seventh commandment has changed from Old to New Testaments! The scope of its requirement has been
somewhat altered. By holding that we
are bound only to the Ten Commandments today – and not to the judicial laws
which define them – Chantry ends up endorsing a Decalogue for the New Testament
which is not the same in requirement as the Decalogue of the Old
Testament. So not even the Decalogue retains its original validity within
Chantry’s system of thought? The
seventh commandment, for instance, which Chantry endorses has the same words
but a different meaning than the seventh commandment in the Old Testament; he
is equivocating by saying that he upholds the validity of the Decalogue,
then. “The material world is comprised
of atoms” is a statement which would have been made by both Democritus and
Einstein, but given their different meanings for “atom,” the statement would
have been false for Democritus (who said these bits of matter were uncuttable)
but true for Einstein (whose conception allowed for the splitting of the
atom). To say that Democritus and
Einstein agreed would be to make a big mistake, overlooking the different
claims being made by means of the same word, “atom.” Likewise, when Chantry cancels the judicial laws which define the
Decalogue’s requirements, it would be a mistake to think that when he endorses
“Thou shalt not commit adultery” he is talking about the very same thing as
those words meant within the Old Testament setting. This enables us to see that Chantry’s thesis cannot in the nature
of the case be true, for it calls for an equivocation. If only
the Old Testament Decalogue remains
binding today, then it is not really
the Old Testament with the
cancellation of judicial laws. By
insisting that only the Ten Commandments retain moral validity in the New
Testament, Chantry ends up maintaining that not
even the Ten Commandment retain
their (same) validity. Chantry’s thesis
is defeated by its own internal logical impossibility.
What we
have seen of Chantry’s discussion so far would not incline us to agree with his
viewpoint. He does not understand
accurately the position which he denounces, and he fails to recognize how close
he himself comes to expressing that very position. In setting forth his own views Mr. Chantry has made regrettable
mistakes about the Bible’s teaching.
Arguments he uses to support the Decalogue equally support the judicial
law which he rejects. There seems to be
nothing but a subjective standard employed regarding those judicial laws which
he finds wise enough to follow today.
And his basic thesis turns out
to be logically impossible. Such problems as these do not render Mr.
Chantry’s discussion persuasive. Mr.
Chantry has insisted that believers bring to bear on politics the light
afforded by Christianity, but given his commitment to only the Decalogue and new Testament, it is difficult to see how
Chantry could very significantly bring specific light into the dark world of
modern government. If God’s laws
regarding rape and the civil treatment of rapists have been abolished, as
Chantry says, then what wisdom would Chantry offer in its place to the
legislators, police, and judges in our many cities which face staggering rates
of this heinous and degrading crime?
“Christ is the answer” is not the answer. So what could someone who repudiates the judicial laws of God
advocate (based on scholarship, logic and __________________.
Despite
these flaws in Chantry’s book, as Christians committed to sola Scriptura we would, nevertheless, be willing to heed Chantry’s
conclusion that the Mosaic judicial laws have been abolished, if (and only if) he could set forth a Biblical
case for the abrogation specifically of those judicial laws. Chantry claims to find just this kind of
Scriptural substantiation in Galatians 3:15-4:11 (pp. 100-102). We must ask ourselves, then, whether this
passage of Scripture teaches that the judicial laws of Moses have been
repealed. In that passage Paul teaches
that the judicial laws of Moses have been repealed. In that passage Paul does not appear to be concerned with
questions of political ethics in the slightest, and nothing he says there
alludes to the judicial laws. Indeed,
the historical setting and literary context of this passage in Galatians have
nothing to do with that portion of
the law in particular. It would seem,
then, that in all honesty we could not
apply this passage to the abrogation only
of the judicial laws; that would be beside the point in the passage. When Chantry introduces the question of politics into his discussion of
Galatians 3-4 (p. 104), he is not taking any lead from the Biblical text. When Paul
says that we are no longer under the law as a tutor (or guardian, guide: Gal.
3:23-24), if the law is meant absolutely and generally, then of course the
judicial laws would be included. But Chantry does not want to say that at
all! Even he knows that not all of the law can be dismissed, and
so he does not want to say that Paul released his readers from the law in
general (e.g., the Ten Commandments).
Chantry recognizes that in Galatians 3-4 Paul was not dismissing
everything in the Mosaic law, for that would contradict things taught in the
rest of Scripture (p. 106). The Mosaic
law contained different elements (cf. p. 112), some permanent but some peculiar
to the Mosaic setting. Thus Chantry
asserts: “Only the features unique to Moses’ administration of the grace
principle were temporary and done away at the coming of Christ” (p. 107). With this statement I perfectly agree: only
the uniquely Mosaic elements of the
law were temporary (which is
virtually true by definition). However,
which elements were indeed unique to
the Mosaic administration? That is the
question (and has been from the start of our discussion).
Why would
the Decalogue not be part of the unique and temporary aspect of the Mosaic law
according to Chantry? Because Scripture
elsewhere teaches us that the
Decalogue is still binding (with which I agree). But Scripture elsewhere also
teaches that the judicial laws continue to be binding today (as Theonomy in Christian Ethics
demonstrates in a large variety of ways), and thus Chantry has no reason –
until he refutes the argumentation in Theonomy
– to hope that Galatians 3-4 repeals the Mosaic judicial law. So we see that Chantry’s appeal to this
passage cannot be in the nature of the case definitive for establishing his
point. Yet Chantry treats it as though
it were. Let us see why, and see the
logical errors to which one is driven in attempting to make Scripture echo
one’s own preconceived conclusions.
In
Galatians 3:24-25 Paul says that we are no longer under the schoolmaster. What part of the law was he thinking about
as the schoolmaster? Chantry says: “All
that was restrictive, repetitive, worldly, harsh and rigid is no longer
appropriate for the heirs of God’s house” (p. 111; cf. pp. 108, 110). That is, ancient schoolmasters were stern
and restrictive, and thus the stern and restrictive aspects of the law were
being denoted by Paul. The judicial
law, Chantry now says, was intended for Israel in a “childhood stage,” but
“full grown sons must be managed differently” (p. 112). If we are to believe Chantry’s analogy (and
I do not), modern nations have outgrown the childish regulations of the Mosaic
civil law; we are too mature for them today, even as a teenager is too mature
for a three-year-old’s discipline (pp. 111-112). At its heart, Chantry’s argument against the continuing validity
of the Mosaic judicial laws comes to this: We are not under the “schoolmaster”
aspects of the Mosaic law, and which are these?
1.
The schoolmaster for immature children was harsh and
rigorous.
2.
The Mosaic judicial laws were harsh and rigorous.
3.
Therefore, the Mosaic judicial laws were the schoolmaster
for immature children (which we are no longer under) (p. 117; cf. pp. 108-110,
121, 123).
The first major problem with this argument is that the second premise is a false evaluation. The judicial laws were not harsh, stringent, and stern according to God’s word; they were “sweet,” a “delight” which “rejoices the heart,” and given for our “good” (Deut. 10:13; Psalms 1, 19, 119). To use them today is lawful and good (I Tim. 1:8-10); they are not a burden for us (I John 5:3). So we cannot accept Mr. Chantry’s personal evaluation of the judicial laws in premise #2. But even if we gratuitously granted both of the premises in the in the argument, Chantry would be far from making his case against the validity of the judicial laws.
The
critical difficulty in Chantry’s argument – one which cannot be repaired – is
that it is logically fallacious: the
conclusion just does not follow from the premises. The form of Chantry’s reasoning is this: (1) A is B, (2) C is B,
(3) So C is A. Or to use an illustrative parallel:
1.
Red is a color.
2.
Green is a color.
3.
Therefore, green is red.
As the
reader can readily see, then, Chantry’s argument from Galatians 3-4 cannot be
accepted. Its key premise is
inaccurate, and its form is illogical anyway.
Chantry has not shown that this Pauline pericope nullifies the judicial
law in particular. What was the actual
object of Paul’s discussion, then, is this passage? Contextual, historico-grammatical exegesis (exercised under the
analogy of faith – the consistency and harmony of Scripture as a whole) leads
to the answer, that Paul was dealing with the ceremonial law specifically. The moral law (either Decalogue or case-law
applications) did not serve as a “tutor unto Christ,” leading to the truth that
we are “justified by faith” (Gal. 3:24); it simply condemned us for our
infractions. The ceremonial law,
however, was a foreshadow of the Messiah and His redeeming work, applied to the
Jews (and us) by faith. The
“rudiments” of Galatians 4:3, 9 would likewise point us to regulations which,
in the Old Testament setting, were a “shadow of the things to come” (Col.
2:16-20, where such regulations were syncretized with pagan asceticism). Historically, Paul’s opponents in Galatia
were Judaizers, who emphasized salvation through obedience to the ceremonial
laws of Moses (e.g., circumcision, feast cycles). Finally, at the end of his pericope in Galatians 3-4, Paul gives
an illustration of the laws about which he has spoken: the ritual feasts of the
ceremonial law (4:10). Context thus
demands that we see Paul’s “schoolmaster” – whom we are no longer under in our
Christ-connected maturity – as the Mosaic ceremonial law. Anybody who wishes to include more than this
in Paul’s designation will need some strong textual and theological
argumentation, which Mr. Chantry has not supplied.
Chantry’s
other line of argument is to claim, based on Ephesians 2:15, that the judicial
laws “shut out the rest of the world from faith” and are thus abolished today
as the Gentiles enter the kingdom (pp. 117, 118, 121). This too is preposterous. How
did the requirement of a patio-roof railing or the prohibition of rape, e.g.,
bar Gentiles from faith? Chantry has
simply misunderstood Ephesians 2. In
the first place, the erection of the Israelite commonwealth did not prevent outsiders from coming to
saving faith; the Old and New Testaments both testify to the fact of salvation
coming to Gentiles in the Old Testament period. In the second place, the judicial law did not erect the
commonwealth of Israel – as Chantry assumes by assigning it the same function
as that of the commonwealth: “By the erection of ‘the Commonwealth of Israel’
all other nations were made ‘aliens’ and ‘strangers’ (Eph. 2:12). Judicial law kept all Gentiles ‘far off’
(Eph. 2:13). Civil regulations built a
‘wall of partition’ shutting all others out from the gospel to which the Jews
were shut in (Eph. 2:14)” (p. 117). But
the judicial laws did not create or define the commonwealth; they merely
governed life within the commonwealth as it was created and defined by the
sovereign historical work of God. So
Chantry has made another crucial mistake in his reasoning. The judicial laws did not erect the
commonwealth. Aliens from the
commonwealth were not prevented from gaining faith and salvation. And the judicial laws in their specific
nature did nothing to preclude Gentile salvation. What, then, was Paul talking about in Ephesians 2? “The law of commandments in ordinances”
referred (again) to the ceremonial law, as I have discussed it in Theonomy. The judicial laws bound all mankind (think, for instance, of
Sodom and the later prohibition through Moses of homosexuality; cf. (Romans
1:26-27, 32); they did not as laws separate Jews from Gentiles, for only the
medium of revelation regarding them was different (i.e., only the Jews received
the “oracles of God” in special revelation, Romans 3:2). What God specially revealed to the Jews and
not to the Gentiles was the way of salvation of clean from unclean meats (Lev.
20:22-26). With the coming of Christ
the ceremonial laws have been made inoperable (Heb. 8:13); the symbols of
separation have been laid aside (e.g., Acts 10:11-15). By His self-sacrifice Christ has removed
these laws which placed a partition between Jews and Gentiles (Eph. 2:14-15);
the kingdom of Christ is now one body, an international organization made up of
Gentiles on an equal footing with Jews.
This, again, had (and has) nothing whatsoever to do with the judicial
laws – laws which were not reserved
for Israel alone (Deut. 4:6-8).
Therefore, even if (contrary
to fact) Israel was a “theocracy” in the sense of identifying church and state
(as Chantry claims, p. 120), the fact that no political body today is a nation
of God’s people (as Chantry argues, p. 112) would by no means imply that the
judicial law has passed away today.
Even in the Old Testament the judicial law was obligatory on nations outside of Israel(the alleged
church-state nation). If nations which
were not God’s people back then were obligated to follow all of the
commandments, then nations today which are not God’s people may be just as
obligated to obey those commandments.
Theonomy in Christian Ethics points out
that those laws are still binding today (as Jesus said, Matthew 5:17-19), and
that civil magistrates still need them in order to carry out their God-given
duty to execute God’s vengeance on criminal evil-doers (as Paul said, Romans
13:1-4). It is a lawful use of the law
to use it in the restraint of public, civil unrighteousness (I Timothy 1:8-10),
even to the point of its undeniably just penal sanctions (Hebrews 2:20. Mr. Chantry has yet to present any
refutation of this thesis which is both exegetically and logically
acceptable. Given his confusions,
misrepresentations, and failed arguments, it would appear that his book has not
made any significant contribution to the discussion of reconstructionism in our
day. His denunciation of it, in fact,
has proven unfounded.