Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
NELSON & PHILLIPS.
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
THIS second volume contains the first of the three forms under which Dr. Wuttke treats of the subject-matter of Christian Ethics. It embraces and occupies the entire ethical field. Its aim is to treat each phase and bearing of the moral life from a normal or ideal stand-point; in other words, to present the moral life as God originally willed, and yet wills, that it should be. It involves in its scope, therefore, all the essential principles of the system of the author, and constitutes a whole in and of itself.
As to the scientific character of the work, and as to whether
it answers wants which are but very imperfectly met by any of our present English
treatises; in a word, as to whether the work of Dr. Wuttke finds before it, in the
English-reading world, a comparatively unoccupied and yet very important field,
I beg leave to refer the reader chiefly and ultimately to the work itself, but also,
preliminarily, to the special
J. P. L.
No literature is richer in native productions in the field of
Ethics than the English. It probably presents more original, representative systems
of moral philosophy than any other. This at least would seem to be the verdict of
a distinguished French philosopher, and French philosophers are not often afflicted
with “anglomania” in any amiable sense. In the nineteenth Lecture of his Introduction
to Ethics, Jouffroy pays this high tribute to his neighbors across the channel:
“How has it happened, you may ask, that all these moral systems, which we have been
considering, were of English origin? The explanation of the fact is this very simple
one, that moral philosophy, properly so called, has been infinitely more cultivated
in England during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries than in any other part
of Europe. In France, for example, the Cartesian era produced only one eminent moralist,
Malebranche; and Malebranche belonged neither to the class of selfish philosophers,
nor to that of the sentimental philosophers. Cartesianism was followed in France,
in the middle of the eighteenth century, by a new philosophy, but this was the system
of materialism
But while this department of our literature is almost immeasurable,
and certainly invaluable, it is sadly deficient in works written from a distinctively
Christian stand-point. One large portion of our treatises are purely philosophical.
Another, perhaps still larger, wretchedly confuse and mix up the ethics of philosophy
with the ethics of revelation. Scarce one author has attempted to present in an
independent scientific form the whole ethical system of Christianity. It is much
as if we had innumerable treatises on what is called natural theology, but as yet
not one on the doctrines of the Christian Revelation. Didactic theologians have
occasionally included in their Bodies of Divinity a brief account of the “Morals
of
Whatever may be the true explanation of this grave deficiency,
it certainly is not due to an oversight of the essential difference between philosophical
and Christian Ethics. Not a few of our evangelical writers have pointed out the
incompleteness and comparatively imperfect basis of the former; but, with the exception
of Wardlaw, scarce one has done any thing to supplant or to supplement it. John
Foster, in the Fourth of his “Essays,” has some excellent thoughts on the
impossibility of ignoring such revealed facts as Human Depravity, Redemption, the
Mission of the Spirit, Immortality, and Future Judgment, in any comprehensive and
thorough presentation of the system of Human Duty. Richard Watson enumerates five
grave mischiefs, which result
But whatever may be thought of philosophical ethics, or of the
exact relation of the two branches to each other, no believer in Christian Revelation
can for a moment call in question the legitimacy of specifically Christian Ethics.
No Christian believer can possibly speak his whole mind respecting man, the ethical
subject, or God, the author of our ethical relations, or our destiny, the result
of our ethical action, without stating or implying all the fundamental doctrines
The value of any elaborate system of ethics is largely in proportion
to its fidelity to the theological views and principles of its author. If we study
an atheistic system, we desire to ascertain precisely what the logical results of
atheism are in the field of morals. This is the only special benefit we can hope
to gain from the study. So a modern Jewish, Mohammedan, or ethnic system is valuable
in proportion as it gives us the true ethical results of the particular religion
from which it springs. Thorough ethical treatises are, therefore, to be welcomed
from whatever
The same thing may be said of systems of Christian ethics written
from different confessional stand-points. Their value, too, is usually in proportion
to their logical consistency. One of their most important uses is to throw light
upon the necessary ethical consequences of their respective types of doctrine. In
this respect the most strictly confessional are the most useful. In the interest
of universal Christian theology, therefore, we greatly desiderate a thorough and
active confessional cultivation of this field. The more clearly and constantly conscious
of his distinctive doctrinal stand-point, the better service the author will render.
Nothing is gained, much lost, by mixing up essentially Romish and essentially Protestant
definitions. In like manner Augustinian ethics are as eternally distinct from Pelagian
as are the theological systems so named. If Methodist theology be true, no consistent
Calvinist can ever write a system of ethics acceptable to a Methodist, and
vice versa. Romanism, Calvinism, Lutheranism and Methodism
as much need distinctive treatises upon ethics as upon Christian doctrine. Each
has
Especially welcome to the English reader must be a thorough scientific
presentation of Christian ethics from the Lutheran stand-point. Hitherto none has
been accessible. The whole theological literature of Lutheranism in the English
language is deplorably meager. Considering the historic interest and present relations
of this great Church of the Reformation, the deficiency is almost inexplicable.
In this country the actual numerical proportions of the communion, its rapid growth
from immigration, the close affinities of its best theology and best life with the
dominant theology and life of the country, conspire to render its teachings and
spirit a study of great interest to every intelligent American believer. Nor can
the unedifying controversies and schisms which have hitherto so excessively characterized
the body, or even the high-churchly self-complacency of such representatives as
the author of “The Conservative Reformation and
An English translation of Wuttke’s great work on “Christian Ethics” ought, therefore, to be warmly welcomed on many accounts. First, for all the excellent reasons suggested by Dr. Riehm, at the close of his special preface to Volume I of this translation.
Second, because as a work on Christian Ethics it will contribute to the supply of what is perhaps the gravest and most unaccountable lack in the whole range of English theological literature.
Third, because it will have a tendency to stimulate American and English moralists to a cultivation of their science from evangelical, and possibly from strictly confessional, stand-points.
Fourth, because by means of it the English student will now, for the first time, have an opportunity to see in full scientific form the ethical implications and inculcations of modern evangelical Lutheranism.
For all these reasons, it affords the writer unfeigned pleasure to bid the new-clad work God-speed, and to commend it to the faithful study of all lovers of Christian truth and holiness.
Wm. F. Warren.
Boston University, School of Theology, October, 1872.
PAGE | |
§ 50. CLASSIFICATION OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS |
1 |
PART FIRST. |
|
PURE ETHICS; OR, THE MORAL PER SE IRRESPECTIVELY OF SIN. | |
Introductory Observations. | |
I. NOTION AND ESSENCE OF THE MORAL, § 51 |
5 |
§ 51. THE GOOD |
5 |
§§ 52-54. THE MORAL |
8-14 |
II. RELATION OF MORALITY TO RELIGION, § 55 |
15 |
III. SCIENTIFIC CLASSIFICATION OF ETHICS, §§ 56-57 |
23-29 |
CHAPTER I.
THE MORAL SUBJECT, § 58. |
|
I. THE INDIVIDUAL MORAL SUBJECT, MAN, § 59 |
36 |
A. MAN AS A SPIRIT, § 59 |
36 |
§ 60. (1) THE COGNIZING SPIRIT |
41 |
§ 61. (2) THE VOLITIONATING SPIRIT, FREEDOM OF WILL |
45 |
§ 62. (3) THE FEELING SPIRIT |
49 |
§ 63. (4) THE IMMORTAL SPIRIT |
51 |
B. MAN AS TO HIS SENSUOUSLY-CORPOREAL LIFE, §§ 64-66 |
59-64 |
C. THE UNITY OF SPIRIT AND BODY, § 67 |
67 |
§ 67. (1) THE STAGES OF LIFE |
67 |
§ 68. (2) TEMPERAMENTS AND NATIONAL PECULIARITIES |
71 |
§ 69. (3) THE SEXES |
74 |
II. THE COMMUNITY-LIFE AS MORAL SUBJECT, § 70 |
76 |
CHAPTER II.
GOD AS THE GROUND AND PROTOTYPE OF THE MORAL LIFE AND AS THE AUTHOR OF THE LAW. |
|
§ 72. (1) GOD AS HOLY WILL |
82 |
§ 73. (2) GOD AS PROTOTYPE OF THE MORAL |
85 |
§ 74. (3) GOD AS UPHOLDER OF THE MORAL WORLD-GOVERNMENT |
87 |
§ 75. (4) GOD AS HOLY LAW-GIVER |
90 |
I. THE REVELATION OF THE DIVINE WILL TO MAN, § 76 |
92 |
(a) THE EXTRAORDINARY, POSITIVE, SUPERNATURAL REVELATION |
92 |
§ § 77-78. (b) THE INNER REVELATION AND THE CONSCIENCE |
96-99 |
II. THE ESSENCE OF THE MORAL LAW AS THE DIVINE WILL, § 79 |
107 |
§ 79. (a) THE FORM OF THE LAW (COMMAND, PROHIBITION, “OUGHT”) |
107 |
§ 80. (b) SCOPE OF THE LAW (REQUIREMENT, COUNSELS) |
112 |
§ 81. (C) RELATION OF THE LAW TO THE PERSONAL PECULIARITY |
118 |
§ 82. THE ALLOWED |
122 |
§ 83. MORAL PRINCIPLES OR LIFE-RULES |
133 |
§ 84. DUTY |
136 |
§ 85. RIGHT |
139 |
CHAPTER III.
THE OBJECT OF THE MORAL ACTIVITY. |
|
I. GOD, § 86 |
145 |
II. THE CREATED, § 87 |
149 |
§ 87. (1) THE MORAL PERSON HIMSELF |
149 |
§ 88. (2) THE EXTERNAL WORLD |
151 |
§ 89. EXTERNAL NATURE |
156 |
CHAPTER IV.
THE MORAL MOTIVE. |
|
§ 90. PLEASURE AND DISPLEASURE |
159 |
§ 91. LOVE AND HATRED |
161 |
§ 92. ANTE-MORAL LOVE |
163 |
§ 93. MORAL LOVE |
168 |
§ 94. LOVE TO GOD |
169 |
§ 95. GOD-FEARING |
171 |
§ 96. GOD-TRUSTING AND ENTHUSIASM |
173 |
§ 97. HAPPINESS |
175 |
CHAPTER V.
THE MORAL ACTIVITY, § 89. |
|
SUBDIVISION FIRST: THE MORAL ACTIVITY per se IN ITS INNER DIFFERENCES, § 99 |
180 |
I. MORAL SPARING, § 100 |
182 |
II. MORAL APPROPRIATING, § 101 |
186 |
(a) IN RESPECT TO WHAT ELEMENT OF THE OBJECT IS APPROPRIATED, § l01 |
186 |
§ 102. (1) NATURAL APPROPRIATING |
187 |
§ 103. (2) SPIRITUAL APPROPRIATING |
190 |
(b) IN RESPECT TO HOW THE OBJECT IS APPROPRIATED, § 104 |
191 |
(1) GENERAL (UNIVERSAL) APPROPRIATING, COGNIZING, § 104. |
192 |
(2) PARTICULAR (INDIVIDUAL) APPROPRIATING, ENJOYING, § 105 |
194 |
III. MORAL FORMING, § 106 |
198 |
(a) IN RESPECT TO WHAT ELEMENT OF THE OBJECT IS FORMED, § 107 |
200 |
§ 107. (1) NATURAL FORMING |
200 |
§ 108. (2) SPIRITUAL FORMING |
201 |
(b) IN RESPECT TO HOW THE OBJECT IS FORMED, § 109 |
203 |
§ 109. (1) PARTICULAR FORMING |
203 |
§ 110. (2) GENERAL FORMING, ARTISTIC ACTIVITY |
205 |
§§ 111, 112. APPROPRIATING AND FORMING AS MORALLY RELATED TO EACH OTHER |
210-212 |
SUBDIVISION SECOND: THE MORAL ACTIVITY IN RELATION TO ITS DIFFERENCES AS RELATING TO ITS DIFFERENT OBJECTS: |
|
I. IN RELATION TO GOD, § 113 |
214 |
(a) THE MORAL APPROPRIATING OF GOD, FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE, § 113 |
214 |
§§ 114-117. PRAYER AND SACRIFICE |
218-221 |
(b) THE MORAL SPARING OF THE DIVINE, § 118 |
232 |
II. IN RELATION TO THE MORAL PERSON HIMSELF, § 119 |
236 |
(a) MORAL SPARING, § 119 |
236 |
(b) MORAL APPROPRIATING AND FORMING, § 120 |
237 |
§§ 120, 121. (1) OF THE BODY BY THE SPIRIT |
238-242 |
§ 122. (2) OF THE SPIRIT ITSELF |
247 |
III. IN RELATION TO OTHER PERSONS, § 123 |
252 |
(a) MORAL SPARING, § 123 |
252 |
(b) MORAL APPROPRIATING AND FORMING, §§ 124-126 |
254-262 |
IV. IN RELATION TO OBJECTIVE NATURE, § 127 |
264 |
(a) MORAL SPARING, § 127 |
261 |
(b) MORAL APPROPRIATING. |
|
§ 128. (1) SPIRITUAL |
266 |
§ 129. (2) ACTUAL |
267 |
(c) MORAL FORMING, § 130 |
271 |
§ THE FRUIT OF THE MORAL LIFE AS MORAL END. |
|
§ 131. GOOD |
274 |
§ 132. THE HIGHEST GOOD |
275 |
I. THE PERSONAL PERFECTION OF THE INDIVIDUAL, § 133 |
277 |
(a) OUTWARD POSSESSIONS, § 134 |
270 |
(b) INNER POSSESSIONS, § 135 |
280 |
§ 135. (1) WISDOM |
280 |
§ 136. (2) BLISS |
283 |
§ 137. (3) HOLY CHARACTER |
284 |
(c) THE GOOD AS POWER, § 138 |
289 |
§ 138. VIRTUE |
289 |
§ 139. THE VIRTUES |
291 |
§ 140. THE PIETY-VIRTUES |
297 |
II. MORAL COMMUNION AS A FRUIT OF THE MORAL LIFE, § 141 |
302 |
(a) THE FAMILY, § 142 |
304 |
§ 142. SEXUAL COMMUNION |
304 |
§§ 143. 144. MARRIAGE |
304-306 |
§ 145. PARENTS AND CHILDREN |
313 |
§ 146. BROTHERS AND SISTERS, AND FRIENDS |
318 |
§ 147. BLOOD-RELATIONSHIP AS BEARING ON MARRIAGE |
319 |
§ 148. FAMILY PROPERTY AND FAMILY HONOR |
323 |
(b) MORAL SOCIETY, § 149 |
324 |
§ 150. HONOR, THE MORAL HOME |
330 |
(c) THE MORAL ORGANIZATION OF SOCIETY, § 151 |
332 |
§ 151. RIGHT AND LAW |
332 |
§ 152. CHURCH AND STATE, THEOCRACY |
334 |
THEOLOGICAL Christian ethics, as distinguished from philosophical ethics, has an historical presupposition—the redemption accomplished in Christ. But redemption presupposes sin, from the power of which it delivers man; and sin presupposes the moral idea per se, of which it is the actual negation. Hence the knowledge of Christian ethics, as resting on the accomplished redemption, presupposes a knowledge of the moral state of man while as yet unredeemed, as in turn this knowledge presupposes a knowledge of that ideal state of being from which man turned aside in sin. Christian ethics has therefore a threefold state of things to present:
(1) The ethical or moral per se irrespectively of sin,—the moral in its ideal form, the proto-ethical, that which God, as holy, wills.
(2) The fall from the truly moral, namely, sin, or the guilty perversion of the moral idea in the actual world,—that which man, as unholy, wills.
(3) The moral in its restoration by redemption, that is, the regeneration of moral truth out of sinful corruption,—that which is willed by God as gracious, and by man as repentant.
These three forms of the moral or ethical stand, in relation to humanity, not beside but before and after each other,—constitute a moral history of humanity: the first stage is pre-historical; the second is the substance of the history of humanity up to Christ; the third is the substance of that stream of history which proceeds from Christ and is embodied in, and carried forward by, those who belong to Christ.
As in Christianity all religious and moral life stands in relation
to the redemption accomplished in Christ, that is, to an historical fact, hence
Christian ethics must also, under one of its phases, bear an historical character.
Man is Christianly-moral only in so far as he is conscious of being redeemed by
Christ; hence in this Christianly-moral consciousness the above-stated three thoughts
are directly involved. Only that one can know himself as redeemed who knows himself
as sinful without redemption; and only he can know himself as sinful who
has a consciousness of the moral ideal. The classification of ethics here presented
is based therefore in the essence of Christian morality itself. The first division
presents ideal morality as unaffected as yet by the reality of sin,—morality in
the state of innocence; the second presents the actual morality of man as
natural and spiritually-fallen,—morality in the state of sin; the third
presents the Christian morality of man as rescued from sin by regeneration,
and reconciled to and united with God,—morality in the state of grace. The
first part is predominantly a steadily-progressive unfolding of the moral idea
per se; the second belongs predominantly to historical experience; while
the third, as a reconciling of reality with the ideal, belongs at the same time
to both fields. The historical person of Christ is, for all three spheres
of the moral, a revelation of the truth that is to be embraced; in relation to ideal
morality Christ is the pure moral prototype per se—the historical realization
of the moral idea; in relation to the moral state in the second sphere, he manifests
the antagonism of sin to moral truth, in the hatred of which he is the object; in
relation to the third sphere, he
To present distinctively-Christian morality alone would be scientifically
defective, as, without the two antecedent forms of the moral, it cannot be properly
understood. To present ideal morality alone is the task of purely philosophical
ethics,—usually, however, instead of the proposed pretendedly ideal ethics, the
result is simply an artfully disguised justification of the natural sinful nature
of unredeemed man. The ideal morality of our first division is in itself fully sufficient
only for such as do not admit an antagonism between the actual state of humanity
and the requirements of the moral idea, or who explain it into a mere remaining-behind
the subsequently to-be-attained perfection, instead of conceiving of it as an essentially
perverted state. The fundamental thought of Christian morality is this, namely,
that the natural man is not simply normally imperfect, but that he is, guiltily,
in an essential antagonism to the truly good, and that he is in need of a
thorough spiritual renewing or regeneration. That this is the case is not to be
proved à priori, not to be developed scientifically,
but to be recognized as a fact. With the reality of sin the moral life becomes essentially
changed, and an ethical treatise which should make reference to sin only as a mere
possibility, as is the case with purely philosophical ethics, would, for
this reason, be insufficient for the actual state of humanity. The history of humanity
has become in all respects other than it would have been without sin,
and hence a complete system of ethics cannot have merely a purely philosophical,
but must have also an historical character,—must grapple with the entire and dread
earnestness of real sin. If it ended at this stage, however, it would present but
a dismal panorama of woe, utterly unrelieved by a gleam of comfort. But divine love
has interrupted the history of sin by an historical redemption-act, and founded
a history of salvation inside of humanity,—has given to man the possibility and
the power to overcome sin in himself, and to rise up from his God-estrangement toward
the moral goal. This is the third sphere, that of distinctively Christian morality,
which, while it has indeed its prototype in the ideal ante-sinful form of morality,
is nevertheless not identical therewith, inasmuch as
This our distribution of the subject-matter of ethics, though
manifestly very accordant with the Christian consciousness, has been assailed on
many sides; and especially have some writers manifested great concern as to whence
in fact we could have any knowledge of this ideal and strictly-speaking non-realized
morality. Such an objection ought at least not to be urged by those who think themselves
able to construct a system, even of Christian ethics, upon the mere facts of the
consciousness, or indeed upon a basis purely speculative. But certainly all who
conceive of sin as a something absolutely necessary, will of course have to regard
our first division as a pure product of a dreamy imagination; we contest, however,
to writers holding such an opinion; the right to deny to a system of Christian
ethics—which is throughout inspired with the thought that sin is the ruin of men
[
THE moral idea rests upon that of purpose or end.
An end is an idea to be realized by a life-movement. Whatever answers to an idea
is good relatively to that idea. Whatever answers to, and perfectly realizes,
a rational, and hence also a divine, idea, is good absolutely. All divine life and
activity has a divine purpose; whatever God brings to realization is therefore absolutely
good,—is in perfect harmony with the divine will.—A nature-object is good
per se and directly, in virtue of the creative act itself; and whatever is
implied in it, as an end to be attained to by development, is actually realized
in fact by an inner divinely-willed necessity. The essence of a rational
creature is per se likewise good; but its full realization as that of a truly
rational being, that is, its rational end, is not directly forced upon it by natural
necessity, but is proposed to it as to be realized by its own rational, and
hence free, activity. The goodness of a merely natural being lies in the
necessarily self-fulfilling purpose of God in the creature; that of a rational creature
lies in the free, self-fulfilling,
As far back as in ancient Greece, philosophers have engaged in
the discussion of the notion of the good, and of the highest good, and have proposed
various definitions thereof,—those of Aristotle being in the main correct. In and
of itself the question is quite simple; it becomes difficult only when we look upon
the actual condition of man without fully taking into account the antagonism of
his reality with his ideal, and are for that reason unable clearly to distinguish
in human aspirations the abnormal from the normal. As to the notion of the relatively
good, there is no dispute; it is always the. agreement of a reality with an idea
or with another reality, and hence is based on the thought of a mutual congruity
of the manifold.—The simple and true notion of the good is indicated in
Whatever is good is good for some object, and is for the
same, in so far as actually appropriated by it, a good. That only can be
a true good which is good absolutely, that is, divine; all true goods are front
God [
In so far as a rational creature realizes the good rationally,
that is, with a consciousness of the good end, and with a free will, it is moral.
The moral is the good in so far as it is realized by the free will of a rational
creature; and. in this manifestation of rational life, both the will, and also the
action and the end, are moral; and true morality consists in the complete harmony
of these three elements. Morality is therefore the life of a rational being
who accomplishes the good with conscious freedom, and, hence, works the harmony
of existence,—as well the harmony
Moralness bears the same relation to the goodness of mere nature-objects,
as conscious freedom to unconscious necessity. The goodness of creatures is not
their mere being, but their life, for God whose image they are, is life; God is
not a God of the dead but of the living. Hence the goodness of rational creatures
is essentially life also, and in this life morality realizes the good. With this
view of morality we may properly enough speak also of a morality of God;
the fact that human morality is really a progressive development of the image of
God, even presupposes this; moreover the Scriptures positively express this thought,
and there is no good ground for explaining it away. God is good [טוֹב]
and upright; [ישׁר;
Rothe objects to the more common notion of the moral, because it embraces only the idea of the morally-good, but not that of the moral in its secondary sense; in his view a definition of the moral should include also the morally-evil. It is evidently proper, however, to confine a notion primarily to the normal manifestation of its contents, and to treat the contrary manifestation as an abnormal perversion. Surely, for example, it would be too much to ask that the notion of the rational be so conceived as to embrace also the irrational,—that of organism, so as to include also disease. In fact the objection of Rothe has weight with him, chiefly for the reason that, in his system, evil is viewed not as a merely morbid phenomenon, but on the contrary as a necessary transition-state of development; in which case, of course, a definition of the moral would have to include also evil.
Though morality, as the free realizing of the good, appears essentially
in the sphere of the will, yet as this will is a rational one,—the expression
of a consciousness and of a love to the object of that consciousness,—hence, morality
embraces the whole life and being of the spirit in all its forms of manifestation,
as knowing, feeling, and willing. Moral knowledge is faith, not only
religious, but also rational faith in general; moral feeling is pleasure
in the good, and love of it, and, on the other hand, displeasure in the
These three phases of the spirit-life are severally and collectively an expression of the union of the subject with objective being, with the All in general,—in the final instance with God. The subject itself becomes also to itself an object, and only thereby attains to its truth. The mere isolatedness of a being is per se evil, is the opposite of true existence and life, the ruin of life, that is, death,—is a dissolution of the unitary collective life into indifferent ultimate atoms. The individual exists in its truth only in so far as it comes into union with the All; this union is not its annihilation but its preservation, its recognition in the All as an organic member of the same; it is a mutual, vital relation, a unity in diversity; and this is in fact the essence of life, namely, that both the individual being and the collective whole, in all its parts, stand in relation to each other, and that, in this relation, the individual is, on the one hand, as a member, quite as fully at one with the whole, as, on the other, it is an integral being of itself.
In actively knowing, man brings the object into relation to himself,—takes
it up, in its idea, spiritually into himself; in feeling, the subject brings himself
in this spiritual appropriation into relation to himself,—embraces the appropriated
object as in harmony or as in disharmony with his own being and character, that
is, as pleasing or displeasing; in willing, the subject assumes an active determining
relation toward the approvingly or disapprovingly received object; hence, the will
rests on feeling, as in turn, feeling on knowledge, though the latter may be obscure
and only half-conscious. In each of these three respects the spirit may be more
or less free or unfree; in so far so it is free, it is also moral. It is true, knowing
and feeling are primarily unfree,—they press themselves directly upon the essentially
passive subject without his voluntary co-operation, and in so far as this is the
case they are as yet extra-moral; but the
In so far as feeling is simply a direct consciousness of such an impressed state of the subject, it is as yet extra-moral, because unfree; it becomes rational and moral through freedom on the basis of the religious consciousness,—namely, when I do not permit myself to be determined by finite things in an absolutely passive manner, but, on the contrary, when I subordinate all my states of feeling to the power of faith or of the religious consciousness,—in a word, when I rise so far into the sphere of freedom as to have pleasure only in that which is God-pleasing, and displeasure only in the ungodly,—when my love to finite things is only a phase of my love to God.
The will, the more immediate sphere of the moral, is in
itself likewise not as yet moral, but must first become so. Free will, as
distinguished from the unfree impulse of the brute, is primarily as yet devoid of
positive contents,—is only the possibility, but not the actuality, of the moral.
It becomes a really free and, hence, a moral will only by coining into relation
to faith, namely, in that it ceases to be a merely individual will determined
solely by the isolated personality of the subject,—for, as such, it is as yet simply
irrational and animal,—and furthermore in that it imbues itself with a positive
faith,—determines itself by its God-consciousness and by its love to God,—so that
thus, passing beyond mere finite being, it bases its outgoings on a rational faith
in the infinite. This is so wide-reaching a condition of the moral will, that even
an evil will (which also lies within the sphere of the moral) is determined by a
certain faith-consciousness, seeing that such a will is a rebelling against its
God-consciousness; “devils also believe” in God’s existence “and tremble” [
As the life of a rational spirit is continuous, namely, a continuous free activity, hence it bears continuously a moral character. Morality is not simply a succession of single moral points, it is an uninterrupted life, and every moment of the same is either in harmony or in antagonism with the moral end,—is either good or evil. In the entire life of man there is not a single morally indifferent moment or state.
Man is God’s image only in so far as he lives this God-likeness,
for God is life, and all life is continuous; a real interruption of the same is
its destruction,—is death. Sleep is only a change in the manifestation of life,
arising from the union of the spirit with material nature, but not a real interruption
of the same. Spirit sleeps not; also the slumbering spirit is moral,—may be pure
or impure; the soul of the saint cannot have unholy dreams; dreams are often unwelcome
mirrorings forth of impure hearts; when Jacob rebuked his son Joseph for his supposed
ambitious dream [
The religious consciousness,—which expresses the conditionment
of our being and life by God, and which, as a state of heart, is piety,—is
necessarily and intimately connected with morality, so that neither is possible
without the other; yet they are not identical. Religion and morality, both, bring
man into relation to God. In religion, however, his relation is rather of a receptive
character,—he permits the divine to rule in him; in morality he is more self-active,
he reflects forth the God-pleasing from within himself. In religion he exalts himself
to communion with God; in morality he evidences this communion by developing
the divine image both in himself and in the external world. In religion he turns
himself away from finite individuality and multiplicity, and toward the unitary
central-point of all life; in morality he turns himself from this divine life-center
as a basis, toward the periphery of created being,—from unity toward multiplicity,—in
order to manifest the former in the latter. The two movements correspond to the
double life-stream in every natural organism, and hence they are simply two inseparably
united phases of one and the same spiritual life; and the very commencement of spiritual
life involves the union of them both. In religion and in morality God glorifies
himself no less than in creation,—in religion for and in man, in morality
through man; and the moral man, in that lie fulfills God’s will in and for
the world, actually accomplishes the divine
The consciousness that we, as separate individuals, have no absolutely self-sufficient and independent existence and rights, as also that we are not simply dependent on other finite powers, but, on the contrary, on an infinite divine first cause, is of a religious character; and the spiritual life that develops itself on the basis of this consciousness is the religious life. In so far, however, as it is a disposition or state of heart, that is, in so far as it expresses itself in the feeling of love to God and in the thence-arising habit of will, it is piety,—in which form it assumes directly also the character of morality. A pious life is per se also a moral one; and morality is the practical outgoing of piety. Religion and morality are therefore most closely and inseparably associated; as morality rests on the recognition that the good is either the actual state or the final destination of all existence, and as this recognition, even in its rudest forms, is of a religious character (since the “good” can have no meaning save as the divine ultimate destination of creation), hence morality without religion is impossible, and its character rises and falls with the clearness and correctness of the religious consciousness. He who despises religion is also immoral; and the immoral man is also correspondingly irreligious; all immorality is a despising of God, since it is a despising of the good as the God-like. As now, on the other hand, religion is a believing, and hence a free, loving recognition of the divine, and as it places man in a living relation with God, hence all religion is per se also moral, and religion without morality is inconceivable.
Thus, whatever is moral is religious, and whatever is religious
is moral; and yet these two are not identical; every religious life includes in
itself a moral will, and every moral action contains a religious element,—implies
religious faith; “without faith it is impossible to please God” [
Religious life is only then genuine when it is at the same time also moral,—when it does not in Pantheistico-mystical wise dissolve and merge the individual into God; the one-sidedly religious life which lightly esteems outward morality entangles itself inevitably in this quietistic renunciation of personality. Moral life is healthy only when it is at the same time also religious,—when the person does not assume to live and act as an isolated being from an unconditioned autonomy of its own independently of God; it is, however, as distinguished from the religious life, essentially a virtualizing of liberty. The one-sidedly moral life, that is, the attempt to virtualize personal freedom without religion, leads to the reverse of the morally-religious life—to haughtiness of personality as of an absolutely independent power, to an atheistic idolizing of the creature, and, in practice, to a throwing off of all obligation that conflicts with personal enjoyment. The moral life is therefore true and good only when the virtualization of the freedom and independence of the person is rational, that is, essentially religious; and it becomes morally evil so soon as it asserts its freedom as unconditioned and apart from God.
Piety and morality consequently mutually condition each other,—develop
themselves in no other way than in union with each other. It is true, the
first beginning of the religiously-moral life is, in so far; the religious phase,
as all religion rests upon a revelation of God to man, that is, upon a receiving,
and not upon a personal doing; but this revelation is only then our- own, the contents
of our religious spirit, when we embrace it in faith, and this embracing
is a free, a moral activity. Hence even the first incipiency of the rational,
the morally-religious life includes in immediate and necessary union both
phases of the same, so that, though in logic we may speak of the one as being; antecedent
to the other, yet in point of reality we cannot so speak. Should this seem enigmatical
to the understanding, still it is no more enigmatical than is the nature of all
and every life-beginning; and just as little as we can deny the reality of the beginning
of man’s natural life, for the reason that it is absolutely hidden
The glorifying of God in religion and morality is the completing of his glorification in nature. In religion, God permits the man who comes into living communion with Him, to behold his glory; in morality God permits men to show forth his glory—to let their light shine before others that they also may praise the Father in heaven. The will of God in creation was not as yet fulfilled at the conclusion of the creative act. “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness,” —but this image is God-like, not in its mere being, but only in its rational, moral life. God created the world for rational creatures, in order that for them and through them his image might be manifested in creation,—that is to say, in the interest of moral development. Hence sin is treachery against God, an infringement on his honor. Morality looks to the honor, not of man, but of God; it is per se a serving of God, and all divine service or worship is a moral act.
The relation of religion to morality is often stated quite differently from the view here presented. The more important of these views are the following four:
(1) Religion and morality are totally identical. In developing this view, the one is necessarily reduced to the other. (a) Morality is entirely merged into religion—the view of all consistent mysticism; man has nothing to do but to give himself entirely over to God; and wisdom consists not in acting, but, on the contrary, in renouncing all practical activity (Eckart, Tauler, Molinos). (b) Religion is entirely merged into morality. Morality is directly in and of itself true religion; to be moral is identical with being pious; outside of virtue. there is no piety which is not only not simply associated with virtue, but which is not, in fact, itself virtue;—the view of the worldly-minded in general, and, particularly, of the “illuminism” of the eighteenth century.
(2) Religion and morality are in their entire nature radically
His position is as follows:—Morality and piety, while not entirely
different, are yet relatively independent and self-based. Each has indeed a certain
relation to the other, and there is no morality which is not, in some degree, also
piety; both have the same root, namely, the personality; but the two form, nevertheless,
independent branches strictly coetaneous. The consciousness of this relative independence
of morality belongs among the inalienable conquests of recent culture,—namely,
the consciousness that an individual human life may be relatively determined by
the idea of the moral, nay, even by the idea of the morally good, or, more definitely,
by the idea of human dignity and of humanity, without at the same time being
determined by the idea of God,—and indeed in such a manner that it shall possess
this idea of the moral as not derived to it from the idea of God. The Christian
moralist cannot refuse to recognize this consciousness. The misconception, that
morality can rest on no other basis than the religious relation, would at once vanish,
could moralists determine to keep distinct the moral sensu medio,
from the morally-good. For, that there can be moral evil on a basis other than a
religious one, will of course be questioned by none. It is true, when strictly
understood or comprehended, the idea of the moral cannot arise
apart from the idea of God.—These last two statements of Rothe undermine his
entire position; for the question here is not at all as to evil, but exclusively
as to the morally-good; and it is hardly possible that any one would argue thus:
Because evil can exist without religion, therefore also the good can exist without
religion. Moreover, in admitting that without religion man can be morally-good only
relatively, but not truly, Rothe implicitly admits also that morality is in fact
not a something existing alongside of religion and in real independency of it; consequently
the above-assumed
(3) Religion is the first, the basis, also in point of time; while morality is the second, the sequence. This is the most usual, also ecclesiastical, view; and as applied to Christian morality it is also undoubtedly correct, since here the question is as to being redeemed from a presupposed immoral state; in which case, of course, the religious back-ground forms the basis of the renewal, from which, as a starting-point, the moral will, in general, must rise to freedom. Where, however, the moral life does not presuppose a spiritual regeneration, there no moment of the religious life is conceivable in which it does not also contain in itself the moral element,—thus absolutely precluding the idea of a precedency of one to the other; moreover, even in the spiritual regeneration of the sinner, the process of being morally laid hold upon by the sanctifying Spirit of God, issues directly into a willing, and hence moral, laying hold upon the offered grace of God.
(4) Morality is the first, the basis, while religion is
the second, the sequence, also in point of time; the moral consciousness of the
practical reason is the ground upon which the God-consciousness springs up;—so
taught the school of Kant, and in part, also, Rationalism. This view, in its practical
application, coincides largely with that one which merges the religious into the
moral. It is true, appeal is made to the passage in
From the intimate unity of religion and morality, which we have
insisted upon, results readily the solution of the question, as to how and whence
we can have a knowledge of the moral condition of humanity as pure and unfallen.
The sources of a knowledge of religion are at the same time, also, the sources
of an acquaintance with morality; and religion throws light not only upon
what has transpired and now is, since the fall, but also upon what preceded all
sin. Thus we have for morality in general, as well as for the consideration
The usual distribution of the subject-matter of ethics into the
doctrine of goods, of virtues, and of duties, does not answer
the nature of this science, as these are not different parts of the whole, but only
different modes of contemplating one and the same thing,—modes which are so intimately
involved in each other, that such a classification inevitably involves, on the one
hand, an unnatural severing of the subject-matter, and, on the other, manifold repetitions
of the same thought. All the various articulations of this science into the mere
discussion of virtues, duties, and goods, according to the different classes and
subdivisions of particular virtues, duties,
Among the various classifications of the matter of ethics, the
above-mentioned is in recent times the more usual; it is adopted by Schleiermacher,
though only in his Philosophical Ethics, and it is applied by Rothe to Theological
Ethics also. In both of these writers, the importance of such a classification lies
in the thought of the working of reason upon nature, in which morality is by them
made to consist. The goal of this working, namely, the positive harmony of nature
and reason, is the good; the power of reason which works this good,
is virtue; the mode of procedure for working the good, the directing of the
activity toward it, is duty.
Schleiermacher and Rothe, in fact, admit that the three
If this classification of general ethics into the doctrines of
goods, of virtues and of duties, is practically untenable, much more is it inapplicable
to Christian Ethics, since it lacks one essential Christian thought, that
of the divine law. Schleiermacher presented no discussion of the law, as
he wrote wholly irrespectively of the idea of God; and for this reason alone his
classification would be inapplicable to Christian Ethics. For duty is not identical
with the law. The law is objective, duty subjective; the law is the moral idea
per se in its definite form, as thought, as universally valid—the will of
God in general; duty is the subjective realization of the law for a particular individual
under particular circumstances,—relates per se always to the strictly particular,
the actual. The law
Of other scientific classifications, we will say but little. The
older popular division of the subject-matter of ethics according to the Ten Commandments,
was a form very well adapted for popular Christian instruction, and, indeed, by
giving a large construction to the more immediate scope of these commandments, it
admits of the treatment of all evangelically-ethical thoughts: it does not, however,
suffice for a scientific development of Christian ethics, seeing that this series
of commands was constructed primarily for merely practical purposes; very essential
points, such as the moral essence of man and of the good, and (as parts of the latter)
of the state and the church, would have to be thrown into introductory or collateral
remarks.—The classification according to our duties to God, to our neighbor, and
to ourselves, while in fact embracing the whole circle of duties, yet requires likewise
too much of the essential matter to be thrown into an introduction.—Harless makes
the divisions, the good itself, the possession of the good, and the preservation
of the good; but by “good” he understands rather the antecedent condition than the
goal of the moral life; by
Morality is life, and hence, activity or movement, and more definitely,
rationally-free movement. Herein lie three things: the subject that moves, the end
toward which the movement goes out, and the movement-activity itself. The subject
goes out from its immediate condition of being per se, through movement,
over into another condition which lies before it as an end. But the moral subject
is not a mere isolated individual; on the contrary, it is the freely self-developing
image of God as the primitive ground and prototype of all morality, and it lives
only in virtue of constant inner-communion with God. The holily-ruling God becomes,
as distinguished from man, the eternal, holy proto-subject of the moral life; and
there is no moment of the moral life in which the human subject, strictly per se
and without God’s cooperation, works the good.—The goal toward which the
moral movement directs itself is also of a twofold character. Man finds himself
already in the presence of an objective world different from himself; and even where
he makes himself his own object, this, his reality, is, primarily, a gift conferred
upon him without any moral action on his own part; this conferred existence (world
and self) is the working-sphere of his
The subject-matter of ethics falls, therefore, into the following subdivisions:
1. The moral subject, purely in and of itself considered.
2. God as the objective ground of the moral life and of the moral law, and also as the prototype of the moral idea, and as co-working in the moral life.
3. The given objective existence upon which, as material to be fashioned, the moral activity exerts itself.
4. The subjective ground of the moral activity, the personal motive to morality.
5. The moral working or acting itself, the moral life-movement toward the moral goal.
6. The conceived object of the moral activity, its goal or end,—the good as an object to be realized.
While Dogmatics sets out most naturally from the thought of God, Ethics takes its start from man, the moral subject, inasmuch as morality in its totality is simply the rational life-development of man,—God coming into consideration here not so much in his character as Creator as rather in that of a Lawgiver and righteously-ruling Governor. Should we, however, divorce Ethics entirely from Dogmatics, we would, of course, have to preface the moral discussion of man by a presentation of the doctrine of God.
The idea of the moral subject, of the rational personality, is
the foundation-thought of ethics,—the root out of which all the other branches spring.
But man is a morally rational person only in so far as he conceives of himself,
not as an isolated individual, but as conditioned by the divine reason and the divine
holiness. Hence the idea of the moral personality leads out beyond itself to the
thought of God, as the eternal fountain and the measure of morality, as the holy
and just Lawgiver; the prototypal relation of God to the moral
In the notion of the moral subject considered as an individual being, there lies implicitly also the notion of an objective world different from the same. Morality, as active life, has this world before it as its theater of effort; the activity in its outgoing comes into contact with a reality independent of itself, which, though because of the unity of creation it is not antagonistic to the subject, is nevertheless primarily foreign to the same, and not in any wise imbued with or dominated by it. But to be a spirit, implies in itself the dominating of the unspiritual, the entering into harmony with all that is spiritual. It is the task of the moral subject to bring about this domination and this harmony. Moreover, in so far as man finds himself in a simply given, and not as yet spiritually-dominated and cultivated condition, he becomes to himself his own object, his moral activity being directed upon himself.
The modifying activity as exerted upon this given existence is
not, however, of a purposeless character, but it has before it, in the rational
end, an ideal object the realizing of which is to be effected by the activity as
moral. In an ethical discussion which follows the actual order of the moral life,
this moral activity will have to be considered first, although with constant reference
to the moral end. This activity, as a spiritual outgoing from the subject, has,
on the one hand, its fountain in the moral subject, on the other, it has also a
development-course as a stream. Each is to be considered separately, so that we
have here again two subdivisions. The consideration of the subjective origin or
ground of the moral activity—its motive,—has to do with the why.
The existence of the law and the encountering of an external world by the
subject, do not suffice to explain why man should enter upon a course of moral
activity; there must be found, as distinguished from these, a motive in the
subject himself that prompts directly to moral activity,—that sets the subject
into movement. The mere “should” is not
The moral activity itself, which is occasioned by this inner motive, is to be considered primarily only in its essence and in its general forms of manifestation, and it involves only the general, but not the special, discussion of the doctrine of duties. By far the largest scope of special activity comes under the last division of our classification; for the true essence and real worth of moral good lies in the fact that it is not a dormant possession, but that, on the contrary, it unfolds continuously new and richer life,—just as a natural fruit is not simply a product in which the life of the plant ends, but is also the germ of a new life;—with this difference, however, that the fruit of the moral activity is not merely the germ of a new life that simply repeats its former self, but rather of an enriched, spiritually-heightened life. In the attained moral good the moral life-movement rises to a new, higher circulation; the person in possession of this good has become richer,—is a spiritually higher-developed personality; the previously existing moral-subject has become more exalted and spiritualized,—is, in fact, the already attained moral good itself; and the moral activity gains thereby ampler and more ennobled contents; with the acquired good springs up new duty.
In elucidation of the classification we have given, compare the
passages
In consideration of the thought that there lies at the basis of all moral activity an end to which the activity directs itself, it might seem more correct to consider this end, namely, the good, before discussing the moral activity itself; however, on the other hand, as the realization of the good presupposes the moral activity, and as we are to consider the good not as simply conceived, but as realized, and, inasmuch as out of the realization of one good a new field of moral activity arises in turn before us, hence it is clearly more natural, in fact, to place the discussion of the end or the good (as being actually the last in the order of the moral development) in the last place; for, it is in fact quite evident, that we cannot speak of the family, the church, and the state, without having first examined the moral activity per se. To begin with the discussion of the good would be the so-called “analytical method,” whereas ours, on the contrary, is the “synthetic;”—the course of the former is, so to speak, retrogressive; while the latter proceeds forward, more in the actual course of the moral development, and hence is the more natural.
The first three subdivisions of our classification embrace, it is true, only the antecedent conditions of the moral activity itself; but it does not follow from this that their subject-matter is to be thrown into an introduction. Free rational life, as an object of ethics, cannot be treated as a mere activity without taking into consideration also the active subject, as well as the law by which the subject is governed, and the field upon which it acts; he who describes vegetable life, must surely speak also of the organs of plants. In any case, a controversy as to whether this consideration forms only an introduction to the subject-matter, or is a part of the subject-matter itself, would be very unprofitable.
THE moral subject is the personal spirit, in a stricter sense, the created spirit. Between the different grades of spiritual beings, there is, in respect to the moral life-task, no essential difference; and, hence, for the individual spirit, the life-task never comes to a definitive close. The basis of the moral life is the individual moral person; but in so far as a plurality of persons constitute themselves into a spiritual life-whole, such a collective totality becomes also itself a moral subject with a peculiar moral task.
In the widest sense of the moral thought, even God himself, as
the holy One, is a moral subject. But in so far as ethics has regard not to an absolutely
infinite, eternal Being and life, but to a task accomplishing itself in time, it
considers only the created spirit as a subject of morality. But all created personal
spirits without exception are moral subjects, and that too with an individual task
that never comes to a close; the blessed spirits, angels included, have not only,
like earthly men, constantly to accomplish morality, but so soon as we leave sin
out of view as an abnormal reality, their moral task is essentially the same
as that of man; and Schleiermacher is wrong in limiting moral acting, and hence
also ethics, to the, as yet, militant life, and in excluding them from the perfected
life of the blessed (Syst., p. 51, 61). Unless we are to conceive the blessed
as spiritually dead, then they must have a life-activity answering to the divine
will,—that is, a moral one. Were this not the case, then Christ’s
The distinguishing of the moral collective subject from the individual subject is a point of essential importance; for, the moral activity of the two is by no means the same. For the member of a moral community, there arise special moral duties that fall to him, not as a moral individual but as an organic member of a whole, and which he is to fulfill not in his own name but in that of the totality. The action of the individual is, of course, the first, the presupposition of the other; the moral community is always the fruit of a precedent moral activity of the individuals,—is itself a realized-good, which, however, at once becomes in turn itself a morally-active subject, unless indeed it is to cease to be.
Man as created after God’s image is, as spiritualized nature, both spirit and nature, and also the real unity of the two.
A. As a spirit he is a rationally-free, self-determining
being, attaining to his full, peculiar reality through free activity. The basis
and essence of this spirituality is personal self-consciousness. Only in
so far as man is self-conscious can he be moral, and by virtue of this self-consciousness
he is answerable for his life,—his life becomes to him a moral one, and is counted
to him. But he is conscious of himself as a personal individual, that is,
he distinguishes himself from others not merely by his being, but by
The Christian idea of man is summed up in the thought of the
image of God, and hence presupposes dogmatically the development of the idea
of God. The great emphasis which is laid in Scripture on this idea of God-likeness
[
The rational spirit stands in contrast to mere nature-existence.
A nature-entity determines not itself, but is determined
But a spirit is more than a mere numerical individual; nature-creatures
differ from others of their species, not by essential peculiarities but by their
mere separate being and by outward fortuitous determinations,—are mere essentially-similar
specimens of the same kind, mere repetitions of the same existence. But each individual
personal spirit has, as distinguished from other personal spirits, a determined
peculiarity of its own, which raises it from a mere numerical existence into a determined
personality. In self-consciousness man knows himself not merely as a man,
but as this particularly-determined man. He bears, therefore, a personal
name, the significance of which is, that it is his destination to be something
different from others,—to possess in his being something which others neither have
nor can have in the same manner. The name is, with man as well as with God, an expression
of personal peculiarity—of that which inwardly distinguishes one determined personality
from others [
This thought of the moral quality of the personality is not so
uncontested as might be supposed. Schleiermacher, in his Philosophical Ethics,
The self-conscious personality unfolds its life under a variety of forms.—(1) Man is a knowing, a cognoscitive, spirit,—he takes objects spiritually, that is, according to their idea, into himself, and thus makes them his enduring possession. The object of knowledge is truth, and the knowing spirit is capable of attaining thereto. Knowledge is in itself true and does not deceive, for God’s created universe is good, and hence true and in perfect harmony with itself. As a rational spirit, man knows not only the created world but also its divine source,—in fact the essence of rationality consists in the knowledge of God in his existence, his nature, his government, and his will. This God-consciousness, resting upon a self-revelation of God to man, is indeed, as finite knowledge, not capable of thoroughly comprehending the infinite essence of God, yet, with a full consciousness of its own limits, it is nevertheless a true, real, and well-grounded knowledge of the divine, and as such it is the presupposition of morality.
The human spirit is an image of the eternal divine life,
though in the form of a temporal life. God, in his eternal life, is eternally self-begetting,
self-knowing, and self-loving,
Man, as created good by God, must have the capacity perfectly
to attain to this good state which is divinely proposed to him as his life-goal.
Hence his knowledge cannot be deceptive, but must have the truth as its contents.
The world would not be good, would not be in harmony, if the intellectual images
of objects in the knowing spirit were not true to the originals,—if the thought
as objectively real were essentially other than the subjective one. What Christ
promises to his followers: “Ye shall know the truth” [
The relation of our knowledge to God is of course quite
different from its relation to the world. While all worldly being may, as created,
be also ultimately fully known and comprehended by man, on the contrary the infinite
and eternal being and essence of God is, for the essentially limited human spirit,
a thought never fully to be grasped; and the incomprehensibility of God [
(2) Man is a willing, a volitionating, spirit; the goal
of his life-movement is for him a conscious end. He is not impelled unconsciously
and by extraneous force toward that to which he is to attain, but he knows the end,
and himself directs himself toward it,—he chooses the known goal by virtue
of a personal will-determination,—that is, in his willing he is free. The
end of rational willing is the good, and, in so far as this is to be realized
by freedom, the morally-good. That which in nature-objects takes place by
necessity, becomes, in the sphere of the moral will, a “should;”
that which in the former case is natural law, becomes here a moral precept;
that which is there natural development, becomes here moral life. But the
will of the created spirit differs from the prototypal will of God by the fact that
its development in time is not unconditioned, but is always conditioned on free
self-determination, so that consequently there exists the possibility of another
self-determination than that toward the true end,—that is, in a word, by the fact
that man’s freedom of will, as distinguished from the divine (which is, at the same
time, eternal necessity), is freedom of choice—liberum
arbitrium. The finite spirit can, and should, attain to the good as the
purpose of its life, but it can also—what it should not do—turn away from this
good; and it attains to the good only when it freely wills to attain to it.
Man, as created good, has this freedom in the highest degree, so that it is not
limited or trammeled by any tendency to evil inherent in his natural non-perfection,
as, for example, by his sensuousness. It is incumbent upon ethics to describe and
explain the
The moral freedom of the will is distinctly presupposed in the
Biblical account of primitive man. “And the Lord God commanded the man, saying,
Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat; but of the tree of the
knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it” [
In the Christian church the full moral freedom of choice of man
before the fall, has been uniformly admitted; and the notion that human actions
are necessarily determined, just as uniformly rejected [comp. Apol. i, p.
52, 53; Form. Conc. ii, p. 580, 677]. The “supralapsarian” predestinarianism
of Calvin has never been ecclesiastically sanctioned, nor in fact does even it deny
freedom of choice as a principle, and expressly,
(The question of freedom of will has of late been much discussed, mostly from the stand-point of recent philosophy and in relation thereto. Daub: Statement and Criticism of Hypotheses Relating to Free-Will, 1834; Romang: On Free-Will and Determinism, 1835 [starting out from Schleiermacher’s stand-point, he attains only to a semblance of freedom]; Matthias: The Idea of Freedom, 1834; [since Hegel] Herbart: On the Doctrine of the Freedom of the Human Will, 1836 [critical, rather than furnishing new matter]; Vatke; Passavant: On the Freedom of the Will, 1835; K. Ph. Fischer, in Fichte’s Zeitschrift, iii, 101; ix, 79; Zeller, in the Theologische Jahrbücher, 1846; and others).
(3) Man is a feeling, a sensitive, spirit,—becomes conscious
of himself as standing in harmony with, or in antagonist to, other being; and, inasmuch
as in the primitive unperverted creation, goodness, and hence harmony, is an essential
quality, and a real disharmony therein inconceivable, hence while man—as self-developing,
that is, as seeking after an, as
Feeling is not peculiar to the rational spirit; it becomes rational
only in so far as it is an expression of self-consciousness; and as self-consciousness
is rational only in being a consciousness not of mere individual being but also
of a Godlikeness in the peculiarity of the person, so also is rational feeling not
of a merely individual nature, but it is excited by the traces of God which shine
forth from all created existence, and hence it is, at bottom, always a love of God.
The goodness of created existence is embraced by rational feeling not as being good
merely for the feeling individual, but as a being-good per se; the rational
spirit feels not merely that this or that entity stands in harmony with itself,
but it feels itself as standing in harmony with the totality of existence,—feels
the harmony of God’s world as such. In the same degree that spirituality rises,
rises also the vividness and compass of feeling. The unconscious nature-object is
affected only by the very few things that come into immediate contact with it; the
brute shows so much the more extended and more lively a sympathy with external existence
the higher and nobler its rank. Emotionlessness, blunt indifference toward
Feeling is the presupposition of all activity, and hence also of the moral; and the most real feeling of all—that which relates to the moral-is not an un-pleasure feeling,—as is often assumed in antagonism to the Biblical world-view, but in fact a happiness-feeling. It would not imply a “good” creation, nor indeed any God-likeness in man, were it a fact that man were incited to activity only by un-pleasure, that is, by pain, while yet happiness were the end of the active life. Even as God is not prompted to activity by any feeling of want, but rather in virtue of his eternal and absolutely perfect bliss, so also can the true moral feeling of man, who is God’s image, be no other than the feeling of happiness and love; but the consciousness of a yet to be won good is per se by no means a feeling of unhappiness, on the contrary it in fact awakens a direct pleasure in seeking.
(4) Man, as a rationally self-conscious spirit, is personally
immortal; only as such is he a truly moral being,—has a moral life-task transcending
his own immediate individuality. Faith in immortality is the presupposition of true
morality; for the moral life-task is one that is incessantly progressive, ever self-renewing,
and at no moment perfectly brought
We have to do here, not with the scientific demonstration of the
doctrine of personal immortality, but only with its moral significance. In recent
times, especially since Kant, the notion has frequently been maintained, that morality
is entirely independent of a belief in immortality, nay, that it evinces its purity
and genuineness by the very fact of entirely leaving out of view this belief, and
that a man is not truly moral so long as he allows himself to be determined in his
moral activity by this belief. It is true, Kant deduces from the idea of the moral,
the idea of personal immortality as a rational postulate; the moral idea itself,
however, is with him independent of this postulate,—calls for its fulfillment absolutely
and unconditionally. There is in this some degree of self-contradiction; if the
“categorical imperative” demands morality unconditionally, and utterly irrespectively
of immortality, then this immortality cannot be embraced in it as a postulate, but
must be merely associated thereto from without. In the endlessness of the life-task,
however, as it is presented by Kant, there actually lies, in fact, the thought of
immortality as included in the moral idea itself,—so that his express dissociating
of the two ideas is illegitimate and unnatural. Schleiermacher goes further; and,
even in his Dogmatics, he is unable entirely to rise above his previous express
denial of immortality. In his Discourses on Religion he places the religiously-moral
life-task proper in an actual disregarding of the idea of this immortality. “Strive
even in this life to annihilate your personality, and to live in the One
and All; strive to be more than yourselves, in order that you may lose but little
when you lose yourselves;” the immortality to be aimed at is not that of the personality,
not above and beyond the earthly existence, but it is an ideal immortality in each
and every moment; men should not desire to hold fast to their personality, rather
“should they embrace the single opportunity presented to them by death for escaping
beyond it.”
The pretended disinterestedness of moral actions performed without reference. to immortality, is mere appearance. All moral activity looks to an end, and this end is a good; and personal perfection is for each individual an essential part of the highest good, or, in fact, this good itself; hence not to wish to obtain any thing for one’s self by one’s moral activity is simply absurd; the first and most necessary of all goods, and the one which is the presupposition of all morality, is in fact existence; to desire to renounce personal existence, or to regard it as indifferent, is equivalent to renouncing moral life, and is consequently not unselfish, but it is immoral. It is true we cannot claim for the so-called teleological proof of the immortality of the soul, full demonstrative power; this much, however, it does prove, namely, that the highest moral perfection would be impossible without immortality; for, as man can never arrive at such a perfection of the moral life as that he can advance no further, so that consequently his farther existence would be purposeless, but in fact, on the contrary, every fulfillment of one moral duty gives in turn birth to new ones, and there is absolutely no point to be found where the moral spirit might say, “thus far and no farther, there remains nothing more for me to do,” —hence also moral perfection cannot be realized save in an unbroken perpetuity of personal life. To say now, that the moral life-task does not consist in obtaining entire moral perfection, but only a limited degree thereof, would be per se immoral. And in fact should we for a moment concede some such limited degree of the moral, then there would be no conceivable rule for fixing this degree, and each would be at liberty to narrow the limits of his morality at pleasure, without that any one would be justified in blaming, or less esteeming him therefor.
In all moral systems, even those of heathen nations, morality
is more precious than temporal life, and that person is regarded as ignoble
and contemptible, even by pagans, who clings to his life at any price, for
example, at that of failing in his duty to his country, to his family, or to his
own honor. This moral sentiment of honor we have no wish to weaken. It is conceivable,
on the assumption of the prevalence of sin, that one’s moral duty, as, for example,
that of speaking or confessing the truth, or of fidelity in love or obedience, cannot
in some conjunctures be fulfilled save at the sacrifice of temporal life. Now, to
one’s existence in general one has an unlimited right; it is his first and
most natural right. In the absence of immortality, however, the sacrifice
of one’s life for a moral duty would not only not be a moral requirement, but it
would be downright folly and sin; for morality can never require the giving up of
the first condition of all moral activity, namely, personal existence. The first,
the most immediate and absolutely unconditional duty, is self-preservation, and
other duties are binding only in so far as they do not radically interfere with
this one. As it would not be a moral action, but on the contrary a proof of insanity
if one man should really choose
He who is without belief in immortality cannot act from an unconditional
moral idea, but only from empirical external fitness, from circumstantial need;
he cannot make moral duty his life-task, and his moral life sinks to a merely
higher-cultured animal life. The question as to whether Christian morality
is possible without a belief in immortality would have to be rejected as trivial,—seeing
that a belief in Christ’s and God’s express word is certainly included in Christian
morality,—had it not been expressly affirmed by some. The word of Christ, however,
is a sufficient answer. “He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it,”
and “He that loveth his life shall lose it, and he that hateth his life in this
world shall keep it unto life eternal” [
When Schleiermacher and others, after him, declare it as unpious
to be interested in a recompense,—understanding by
Against this view,—which is surely in perfect harmony with the
general Christian consciousness,—indignant warning has been made,
The natural body, as the physical basis on which the spirit develops
itself to its full reality, has not a purpose in and of itself; but only for the
spirit, namely, to be the perfectly-answering and absolutely-subserving organ of
the spirit’s relations to nature. This embraces three points:—1. The sensuous corporeality
is, despite its seemingly trammeling power over the freedom of the spirit, per
se absolutely good, and there is neither any thing evil in it nor is
it the cause of any evil whatsoever; and as the body must, in so far as it
is normal, be in harmony with the spirit and with nature, hence there is in it no
sort
The moral significance of the sensuous nature, the corporeality,
of man is a very important point in the Christian world-theory, and can in no wise
be regarded as non-essential. It is, in fact, one among the living questions of
the day,—questions which are being warmly agitated even outside of the church,
and in relation to which the bearing of the Christian consciousness is, in many
respects, entirely misunderstood. As early as the fourth century there infected
the Christian church (partly under the prompting, or at least the countenance of
non-Christian influences) a spiritualistic view of the naturally-sensuous,—a practical
disesteeming of the same in comparison with the spiritual; and the Middle Ages followed
in general the same tendency; the Reformation returned to the primitive Christian
and biblical view. The recent rationalistic philosophy of the understanding developed,
in contrast to the Middle Ages, the theoretical rather than the practical phase
of spiritualism, and conceived the sensuously-corporeal life, not merely as the
cause of sin, but as per se and originally a trammeling of the spiritual
life,—as the real source and seat of sin, and hence as a mere transitory and soon
entirely-to-be-thrown-off evil,—and interpreted, utterly erroneously, the New Testament
term, σάρξ, referring it to the natural corporeality.
Death, which had previously been viewed as the wages of sin, was now regarded as
the emancipator from the seductive and spirit-burdening corporeal life,—as the divinely
appointed normal beginning of the untrammeled life of the spirit. Sensuousness is
here the not inherited, but innate, and not guilty, but guilt-generating
malum originis—an evil, the origin of which was not
free responsibly-sinning man, but the divine creative will itself; in getting rid
of corporeality therefore man gets rid at the same time also of his (so-regarded)
scarcely-imputable sinfulness. Sin consists essentially in the predominating of
the sense-life over the spirit; the spirit per se would have little or no
occasion for sin. The doctrine of a resurrection of a glorified body is rejected
as belonging to a crude, unspiritual world-view; it is only the pure disembodied
spirit that is free and
The evangelically-Christian view is neither the above spiritualistic
nor this materialistic one. Christianity, though so often charged by worldlings
with a one-sided spiritualism, places in fact a much higher moral worth on the corporeal
nature than was ever done by heathenism. The body is destined, it is true, to absolute
subserviency to the spirit; but it has precisely in this, its perfect service, also
a share in the high moral significancy of the spirit,—it is not only not to be discarded
as a trammeling of the spirit, but is a very essential part of the moral person.
As the eye cannot say to the hand: “I have no need of thee” [
The normal relation of the body to the spirit cannot be directly
inferred from the present actual state of humanity; for if we assume, even preliminarily,
the possibility that the moral spirit of the race has fallen away from its harmony
with God, we yet thereby render it unsafe to infer that relation from the present
state of things, since from the disturbed harmony of man with God follows also the
disturbance of his harmony with himself, and especially of that between spirit and
body. The true original relation can be educed only, on the one hand, from Scriptural
declarations and from the living example of Christ, and, on the other, from the
Christian idea of creation. The simple fact that all that God creates is good,
is itself proof that the corporeality created for the spirit can neither be a trammeling
nor a natural source of suffering for the same. Suffering and pain are indeed means
of educative chastening for man as sinful, but for the unsinful their presence would
be the reversing of all moral order. In God’s good-created world, men, were they
The sensuous corporeality in its uncorrupted primitiveness can
disturb neither the moral life by really immoral appetites, nor the feeling of happiness
by pains and sickness,—the aequale temperamentum qualitatum
corporis (equipoise of the qualities of the body) of the Apologia
(i, 17);—in that which was created good there can be no antagonism between the
life of the spirit and that of the body, nor between the body and nature; but every
suffering, every pain, is evidence of an antagonism, of an evil in its subject.
In the Scriptures all bodily sufferings are expressly traced back to sin [
2. The body mediates the relation of the objective world to the personal spirit, through the senses; and this mediation, as being established by the divine creative will, is a truthful one. On the other hand, the body mediates the active relation of the spirit to the objective world, and, in subserving the spirit, it thereby mediates the morally-essential dominion of the spirit over nature, and is, hence, the necessary and adequate organ of the moral spirit in its relation to the external world,—and not that of nature for its dominion over the spirit.
If the created spirit has surety of ability for knowing the truth,
this of itself implies that the knowledge mediated by the senses must be real and
true,—that sense-impressions per se do not deceive us. “The hearing ear and
the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of them” [
The spirit is to dominate over nature, not directly, however, by a mere magic-working will, but by the instrumentality of its own dominated body. The destination to this domination is expressed even in the build of the human body: erect, with upturned look, with hands planned for the most manifold activity, the human body bears upon it the impress as well as the reality of dominating power. While Materialism subordinates spirit to nature, the Christian worldview subordinates nature to spirit; and as the spirit is entirely master over its body, so is it likewise master over nature by means of the body. A childish, morally-unripe spirit cannot, it is true, dominate nature at the will of its irrational whims,—but we speak here only of the rational spirit, and in this sphere the words, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” have no application; in normal man the flesh is also willing and strong. Even as through the senses nature is open and unlocked for the cognizing spirit, so is it also through the bodily organs for the volitionating spirit. If the facts seem otherwise in the present reality of things, if the body is no longer an absolutely obedient medium for the dominion of the spirit over nature, but on the contrary is much oftener a mere instrument of nature for her dominating over the spirit, this is simply because the right and primitive relation has been disturbed, and has given place to the enfeebling influence of sin.
3. The incipient limitation of the freedom of the normally self-developing
spirit by the body in consequence of the dependent condition of the latter on external
nature, is only the corresponding normal expression of the still existing
unfreedom
of the, as
It would be an injustice in the Creator, and a God-repugnant defect
in creation, were the essentially free and morally matured spirit bound in unfreedom
by a per se irrational nature; and the anti-scriptural notion, that the rational
spirit has been banished into a body, as into a prison, in punishment for the sins
of a previous life, would then be the sole possible justification of the Creator.
But the conditional unfreedom of the spirit such as we must admit also for the unfallen
state, namely, that it is limited by the natural alternation of sleeping and waking
[comp.
That which was a disciplining beginning, however, is not to be
permanent; but it is not the body, but only the limiting power of the same that
is to pass away. The view that the body is not a permanent condition of the spirit,
but only a prison-house destined to destruction,—a merely useless burdening incident
of the spirit,—is a very favorite one, it is true, but it is a very un-Christian
one. What God does is done well, and he has given the body to the spirit for perfect
service, and not for a burden and a clog. Of the notion that the original body is
only a worthless case or husk, to be cast off like the chrysalis of the butterfly,
the Scriptures know nothing;—the dissolving of the earthly house [
In virtue of the union of spirit and body into one personality, the spirit is manifoldly determined also in its moral life, and it appears in consequence under different phases of existence, which occasion also correspondingly different manifestations of morality.
1. The stages of life. The spirit is dependent in its development
on that of the body, not absolutely, however, but only relatively; the development-stages
of the moral spirit—which do not entirely coincide
The development of a spirit as united with a body, consists in
one of its phases in the fact that it more and more throws off its primarily normal
greater dependence on the corporeal life,—that it becomes freer, ripens toward maturity.
Although we cannot conceive of the first created human beings as beginning life
in a state of unconscious childhood, still the above-mentioned stages of life, seeing
that they are implied in the very nature of self-development, must hold good, at
least, of all succeeding generations; and even the first man could not appear at
once as a perfectly mature, morally-ripened spirit, but had to pass through similar
stages of development. According to the naturalistic view, the spiritual development
In consequence of the normal super-ordination of the spirit to
the body, the spiritual development-stages do not coincide, in point of time, with
the corresponding bodily stages, but precede them somewhat. The first stage is that
of childlike innocence, where the child as yet knows not how to distinguish between
good and evil [
The stage of transition, or youth, is the time when the person can distinguish between good and evil, and where, consequently, there exists a real moral consciousness, though not one that is thoroughly formed and in every case self-determining, but only primarily a consciousness of good and evil in general, and the particular application of which in single cases is, for the most part, not left to personal free self-determination, but to the guidance of educators. The boy has the definite law, as yet, only in an objective manner, in the will of his parents; his moral consciousness sketches only general outlines,—for the more definite traits and shades it is as yet dependent on some other, to him objective, consciousness. Hence the most characteristic form of the morality of this period is obedience; and the greatest danger to morality, so long as this partial uncertainty yet remains, is the tendency, readily resulting from the incipient consciousness of moral self-determination, to wish to determine one’s conduct in particular cases directly and immediately from the, as yet, only general and indefinite moral consciousness,—that is, the tendency to premature freedom, the pleasure in an unregulated enjoyment of freedom, in arbitrary self-determination. This in fact was the danger to which our first parents fell a prey.
The stage of moral maturity, in a normal development, far more
than overtakes that of bodily ripeness. While civil law fixes the civil majority,
that is, the time of ripe understanding, at the period of full bodily maturity,
the moral community, the Church, declares man as morally mature much earlier
(confirmation); also the state fixes full moral responsibility much earlier than
the civil majority. These distinctions rest on well-grounded experience. The young
man knows not merely moral duty in general, but he is also capable of conforming
his life thereto in particular. Obedience to parents or guardians assumes now the
form of obedience to the moral law, which latter indeed includes the former, but
no longer as an essentially unconditional obedience, but simply as one that is to
be subordinated to the moral law. But a morally mature person can come into
an actual conjuncture where it is necessary to refuse obedience to parents, only
on
The becoming-childish of the aged would be a very weighty reason for doubting of personal immortality, were it a normal phenomenon of old age. When, however, we consider that even in the present sin-disordered condition of the race, this becoming-childish is by no means a necessary and universal phenomenon, but that, on the contrary, the fruit of a morally-pious life—even in far advanced age, and despite the otherwise slumber-like obscuration of the intellectual faculties—is a heightening of the religious and moral consciousness, and that even the better forms of heathenism consider reverence for the moral wisdom of the aged as a high virtue,—we can readily, then, infer from this, how little room there would be for a real becoming-childish in any respect whatever in an unfallen state of humanity. Precisely what would have been the characteristics of normal old age in a sinless state, we know not; this much, however, we do know, that the life of an immortal spirit, as being destined to a higher ennoblement or transfiguration, and as not subject to a positive violent death, could not be liable to a return to a state of moral minority,—at the farthest it would only have prepared itself for this freely self-accomplishing ennobling, by a greater turning away from earthly things. All senility of age we can regard only as an absolutely abnormal sin-born phenomenon, seeing that it stands in manifest antagonism to the nature and destination of the personal spirit.
2. Differences of temperament—the different tempers of
the spirit in its bearing toward the outer world, as determined by differences of
bodily peculiarity. These differences are—as an expression of that manifoldness
of being which is necessary to the perfection of the whole—per se good,
and give rise to a vital reciprocalness of relation among the members of society.
As mere natural determinations of
From a naturalistic stand-point great importance is attributed
to temperaments, as if they were original moral determinations. But that which is
original and merely natural is not as yet moral; it is only the antecedent condition
of the moral. Moral character is not determined by nature, but only by the free
action of man himself; in proportion as we consider the moral as determined by nature,
we destroy its very essence. While the ancients considered the temperaments rather
in their purely corporeal significance, in recent times emphasis is often given
rather to their spiritually-moral significance, to the detriment of morality. On
this point there has been much fallacious speculation, and the inclination is in
many respects manifest, to attempt to comprehend man in his moral peculiarity from
mere nature-circumstances, rather than honestly to look into his moral nature—to
search his heart; and men are very ready to excuse their moral foibles and vices
on the score of temperament; this course is naturalistic, and, in fact, materialistic.
Temperament is, essentially, simply the normal basis on which morality is to develop
itself; it does not, however, itself determine the moral life-task, but only has
influence in throwing it into its peculiar form; he whose character is shaped only
by his temperament has no character. The moral character stands above all
temperament; and where there are different and opposed temperaments like moral characters
may be formed, and the converse. Temperaments are not per se a peculiarity
of the spirit, but are based in that of the corporeal life, and pass over
upon the spirit only by virtue of a kind of communicatio idiomatum.
It is usual to distinguish four temperaments,—according to the susceptibility for
external influences, and to the active bearing
As the moral person is not to permit himself to be determined by the irrational, but should himself freely determine himself on the basis of the moral consciousness, hence he is all the more moral the more he subordinates his temperament to his moral will,—not cultivating simply those virtues which are more congenial to his temperament, as, for example, friendliness in the sanguine, patience in the phlegmatic, courage in the choleric, etc. Morality consists rather, on the contrary, in the inner harmony of all the different moral phases, and must consequently counteract the one-sidedness of any particular temperament. The light temperament tends to frivolity, the warm to passionateness and revenge, the cool to indifference and indolence, the heavy to selfishness and narrowness. He who leaves his temperament unbridled, cultivates not its virtue but its defect; for virtue is never a mere nature-proclivity. As a peculiar endowment, temperament, like every other endowment, must be morally shaped, and hence brought into proper harmony with the moral whole of the life. No sin finds a moral justification in temperament; and, on the other hand, only that course of action is morally good which springs not merely from temperament, but from the moral consciousness.
The differences of natural national peculiarities are related
to the difference of temperament. Also in a sinless state, a
3. The difference of sex conditions a correspondingly different
peculiarity of the moral life-work. Man represents the outward-working, productive
phase of humanity, woman the receptive and formative,—he more the spirit-phase,
she more the nature-phase; in him preponderate thought and will; in her rather the
feelings, the heart; to man it is more peculiar to act initiatively,—to woman rather,
morally to associate herself. The moral life-work of each is different in the details,
but in both it is of like dignity; it is simply two different mutually-complementing
phases of the same morality. The
The antithesis of the two sexes is the highest spiritualized manifestation of that primitive antithesis of the operative and the reposing, the active and the passive, that conditions all earthly life,—that assumes an endless variety of forms, and appears in each single phenomenon of the world under some of its many forms of combination. Nowhere do we find mere force, nowhere mere matter, but every-where in nature both are united, and yet they are not the same. What this primitive antithesis is in nature,—what the greater antitheses of the light and the heavy, repulsion and attraction, motion and rest, sun and planet, animal and plant, arteries and veins, etc., are,—this is, in highest refinement and perfection, the antithesis of man and woman in humanity. That the nature-phase is somewhat more prominent in woman than in man is evidenced also by the earlier physical development and maturity of the female sex, and by the greater dependence on nature and on the changes of the seasons in the entire female sex-life. The higher intellectual power is undoubtedly with man, and the moral subordination of woman to man in wedlock and in society is an unmistakable law of universal order. The difference of the two sexes is not to be t6ned down, but to be developed into moral harmony. As an effeminate man or masculine woman is offensive to the esthetic sense, and a hermaphrodite repugnant to uncorrupted feelings, and a sexless form expressionless and unnatural, so also, in moral respects, it is the duty of man to cultivate his manliness, and of woman to cultivate her womanliness; and any assumption by one party of the peculiarities of the opposite sex, is not only unnatural but also immoral.
Man is not simply an individual being, but, by virtue of his moral rationality, which seeks everywhere to reduce the manifold to unity, he effects also a moral community-life, a community of persons, to which the individual is related as a serving member, and which has in turn itself a definite moral life-purpose, to the fulfilling of which the individual members are indeed called, though this moral life-purpose, that is to be carried out by the individual, is not identical with the life-work which he, as a personal individual, has to fulfill for himself. A plurality of persons constitutes a moral community-life only when, in virtue of a real common-consciousness, and a common moral life-purpose, they are molded into a life-unity, so that the individual members bring not only the whole into active relation to themselves, but also and essentially themselves into active relation to the whole; and the moral life of the individual is the more perfect the more it develops itself into a life of the whole; and the ultimate goal of moral development is, that all humanity become a unitary moral community. The true morality of the individual assumes therefore always a twofold form: one that is personally-individual, and one that is an expression of the moral life-purpose of the community-life, and in the name of which it fulfills that purpose; neither is subordinate to the other, but they stand in vital reciprocity of relation.
The notion of the community-life as a moral subject is of very
great significance for ethics. Heathenism attained to it but very imperfectly, inasmuch
as the thought of the unity of
The moral activity of the individual person as such is clearly
to be distinguished from the moral activity of the same as an embodiment of the
public morality. The mere circumstance, that in a state of sinfulness these two
forms of morality may appear in antithesis and contradiction—that a man may perform
his duty as a citizen to a certain degree of serviceableness, while his personal
morality stands very low—shows that in the thing itself there is a real difference.
What I do as a vital member of the moral community—as it were out of the spirit
of the same, and to some extent, in the name
The distinction of this twofold morality presents itself, under
one of the special forms of the second phase, namely, official morality,
as recognizable also outwardly. What the clergyman, the soldier, the judge does
officially, is also morality, but it is not by any means identical with his personal
morality, as is shown even by the fact of the different degrees of censure incurred
for violations of duty in the two spheres. An untruth, a deception, perpetrated
in official activity, is much more severely punished, and deserves also severer
moral rebuke, than a like act done in non-official life. He who is acting in a public
capacity is not at liberty to overlook an offered indignity, while his very first
duty when insulted in a private capacity, is, to manifest a readiness for reconciliation.
The moral community often expresses this difference in the fact that those who act
principally and professionally in its
As morality is connected with religion in an indissolubly vital unity, hence the God-consciousness is the necessary presupposition and condition of morality, and the character and degree of the morality is consequently also conditioned on the character and degree of the God-consciousness, although a higher degree of the latter does not necessarily work also a higher degree of morality. Hence true morality is only there possible where there is a true God-consciousness, that is, where God is not conceived of as in some manner limited, but as the infinite Spirit in the fullest sense of the word. Only where the moral idea has its absolutely perfect reality, in the personal holy God, has morality a firm basis, true contents, and an unconditional goal.
If morality is in any manner conditioned by religion, then is
also the quality of this morality different in different religions. We have
already shown that morality is not conditioned by the mere God-consciousness, but
only by it as having grown into religion, for a God-consciousness which does not
become a religious one, but remains mere knowledge, cannot become a moral power;
and this is the simple explanation of the fact, that while a feebler God-consciousness
cannot produce a higher degree of morality, yet a higher God-consciousness does
not necessarily create also a higher degree of morality,—namely, when it does not
develop itself
The personal God is the basis of the moral, (1) in that He, as holy will, is the eternal fountain and embodiment of the moral idea. The good is not a mere object of a possible willing, not merely ought to be willed, but is eternally willed by an eternal will, and is nothing other than the contents of this will itself; God is the absolutely moral spirit, the holy spirit—perfectly at one with himself in his free personality, and eternally self-consistent,—and who as such guarantees to the moral life-task of his free creatures, full truth, unconditional and permanent validity as God’s requirement, and unshaken certainty, and perfect, constant unity and consistency.
Outside of the Christian God-consciousness the moral idea lacks
all certainty and strength. It is easy to say, that we should do the good for its
own sake, that the moral law presents itself as a “categorical imperative,”
but in the reality of life such generalities will not avail. For a mere idea without
any sort of reality, no human heart can grow actively warm; here there is at best
only an intellectual interest, but not a morally-practical one. The validity of
the moral idea must have a deeper basis than a mere intellectual process. Before
I can do the good for its own sake, I must love it; before I love it, I must with
full certainty know it. So long as I am in doubt as to what is good, or as to whether
there is any good, I have no object of love. The essence of the good, however, implies
that the same is not my merely subjective opinion, but that it is universally valid—good
per se. Now, should I leave the God-consciousness out of sight, then there
would remain for me, in order to determine the unconditional validity of a supposed
moral precept, and to avoid the possibility of a mere arbitrary judgment, no other
resort than the impracticable test of Kant.
So soon as there exists a consciousness of God, all good
must be referred absolutely to God’s will; whatever God wills is good, and whatever
is good is God’s will. The
But the certainty of the moral idea is only one of its phases,
the other is its actuating power. It is true, the idea itself of the good
should move the will; but its power is immeasurably greater When it is itself the
expression of a holy will than when it merely speaks to the human will. It
is the sacred awe of the Holy One that lends it this power. In a mere idea I can
have pleasure, but it cannot inspire me with awe. The command that emanates from
the Living One, gives life; a mere idea pre-supposes life as a condition of its
efficacy. The moral idea becomes truly influential on the personal spirit only by
its being the actual will of a personal God. “The statutes of the Lord are right,
rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes”
[
The question: is a thing good because God wills it, or does
God is the basis of the moral, (2), in that He reveals himself in his universe as the Holy One,—discovers himself to man as the prototype of the moral, as the personally holy pattern after which man should form himself. In this consciousness of God as prototype of the moral, man conceives morality as Godlikeness, and himself,; in his true moral dignity, as God’s image and as a child of God.
The idea of a moral self-revelation of God is of wide-reaching
moral significancy. Heathenism knows nothing of such a self-revelation; it is true,
in the higher heathen religions, moral laws are referred to a divine origin, but
this signifies simply either a revelation of the general laws of world-order, or,
at best, a revelation of the divine will in regard to men, but not of the
real moral nature of God. According to the Christian world-view, the good is not
merely to be realized, but it exists already in full reality from eternity;
morality is not to create something absolutely new, but only to shape the
A much deeper impression than that made by the revelation of the
holy personality of God through speech, is made by the revelation of the same by
actual reality in the person of Christ. We cannot answer here the oft proposed
question as to whether the Son of God would have become man even had not sin entered
into the world; the Scriptures give us on this point no decision; and even those
who affirm it do not place the advent of the perfect man at the beginning of the
race. Hence, even in this view, the coming of Christ is not held as a necessary
condition of the moral life. But as Christ is in fact not merely the Redeemer
suffering for and through sin, but also the true personal manifestation of the
perfect image of God—the absolutely perfect prototype of human morality,—hence,
for us, who are no longer in the condition of original sinlessness, the knowledge
of pure morality is essentially conditioned on a knowledge of Christ. The first
sin-free human
God is the basis of the moral, (3), in that, omnipresently ruling and judging in his universe, He wisely, lovingly, and justly guides and furthers toward its eternal goal the moral life of his creatures, without, however; interfering with their moral freedom. This consciousness gives to the moral life full confidence and joy in the fulfillment of the divine will, and the proper fear of all that is ungodly.
The thought of a merely impersonal moral world-order may seem
in itself simple and attractive; for real life, however, it is of no efficiency.
Even the proud equanimity of the Stoic is unable definitively to find any better
remedy for the antagonism of the reality of existence with his self-conceived ideals,
than suicide; and those who, in recent times, assuming that the Christian World-view
is gloomy and unhumanitarian, prefer to it the domination of eternal impersonal
God is the basis of the moral, (4), in that as holy Lawgiver he reveals his eternal, holy will in time. The totality of created being is, in the design of the creative will, to be in harmony with God and with itself. The idea of this harmony, as active in God under the form of will, is God’s law. Unfree creatures have it as an inner necessity, and must fulfill it; free creatures have it as a moral command, and should fulfill it; for the former it exists as an unconscious instinct or impulse, for the latter it is revealed; as God’s law, it is made known to rational creatures by revelation. The moral law is therefore the revealed will of God as to the rational creature,—namely, that the same should bring its entire life, consciously and with free will, into harmony with God’s purpose.
A law which cannot be derived from God’s will is not a moral law,
but at best a civil one. That the moral law is based in the inner essence of the
human reason is not controverted by the proposition, that it is God’s will, but
it is in
In treating of the moral law as the expression of the divine will, we have two points to consider, first, the communication of this law by God to man, and then its inner essence.
This revelation reveals to us not only the contents of the divine law, but must also reveal it as the divine will. This manifestation of the holy will of God is of a twofold character. In reason, which is the more especial embodiment of the divine image, and which is consequently the God-ward phase of man, man has the power of recognizing the divine will in regard to reason,—the rational life-purpose of the rational spirit. Hence, by virtue of his rationality, man has the divine law in himself as a personal knowledge attained to through free self-development. The divine will-revelation is therefore primarily an inner revelation within the rational spirit conditioned by the creative will itself. As, however, this knowledge cannot be a directly-given one, but must be first attained to by morally-spiritual activity, hence it cannot be for morality the sufficient antecedent condition. There is a necessity therefore, in order to the commencement of the morally-rational life of humanity, of a special training of the same by God unto moral knowledge,—of a direct extraordinary objective revelation by means of which man may have from the very beginning a definite consciousness as to the divine will, and a firm guarantee of the truth.
(a) The extraordinary, positive and supernatural
The seeming contradiction that lies in the facts, that rational
knowledge cannot be given in an immediate and ready form, but must be first attained
to through moral effort, and that, on the other hand, all moral activity presupposes
already the consciousness of the moral, is reconciled solely and simply by the fact
that the creating God is also an educating one,—that He reveals to man Himself and
his will,—even as also the child does not ripen to reason and maturity by being
abandoned to itself, but by being educated by reason and to reason,—by having the
moral consciousness which as yet slumbers in it awakened by instruction,
and, when once awakened, then strengthened by actual moral example. Without instruction
and training the child never becomes a truly rational person; and when, in harmony
with the Christian system, we affirm the same thing of the first man, we do not
thereby state anything inconsistent with the nature of man, but in fact simply that
which is implied in the very nature of rational spirit-development. If for a moment
we should, with Rousseau, conceive of the first generations of man as in a condition
of animal unculture, creeping on all fours, and without speech, then we are utterly
unable to learn from any of the champions of this theory in what manner these human-like
animals could ever attain to reason and to a moral consciousness. We have in fact,
in the case of the uncivilized tribes of the race—who, low as they are, are yet
not so low as the above-supposed semi-men,—positive proof that
Without a consciousness of God and of his will, man is as yet,
on the whole, not rational; but man was created by God after his own image, and
hence unto reason and unto morality. This implies of itself that this consciousness
was necessarily shared in even by the first man. Now as man knows nothing of nature
save as nature communicates herself to him through sensuous impressions, so also
can man know nothing of God unless God reveals himself to him; and in fact a God
who should not reveal himself is utterly unconceivable. If now a consciousness of
the moral, that is of God’s will, is the necessary antecedent condition of all moral
activity, and if, at the same time, all real rational knowledge springs from a moral
using of such knowledge, then is it perfectly self-evident that the beginning of
this knowledge must have been directly prompted by God himself. The fact that this
first revelation is termed, in distinction from the self-wrought-out knowledge,
an extraordinary and supernatural one, does not imply that it stands
in contradiction or antagonism to the inner revelation in the self-developing spirit.
On the contrary it is for the development of humanity in general both very natural
and in harmony with general order; for, all life of individual objects, both
in the spiritual and in the natural world, requires a first stimulation, an awakening
influence from other already developed objects and beings; and this stimulating
rises toward educative training in proportion as the perfection of the species
rises; man has therefore, by virtue of his rational nature, a claim upon an educative
influence from the rational spirit; and this is in fact the historical revelation.
Man is not by his birth or creation already really a morally-rational spirit,
he becomes so only by an educative influence from the rational spirit, and
hence, in the case of the first man, from a primarily objective revelation from
God. This revelation, however, does not remain in this objective character,
but, in stimulating man to a moral consciousness and to moral activity, it brings
him to the inner revelation in the rational nature of man himself—to a consciousness
of his own God-likeness, and hence also to a consciousness of the divine prototype.
The first man sustained to God an absolutely
In order to man’s being really moral he must be conscious that
in his free acting he freely subordinates himself to the will of God; but he can
do this only when he recognizes the moral, not merely as such, but also as being
of divine origin, and this he can do only when he distinguishes the divine will
from his own; this distinguishing, however, is possible, for the first man, only
when the divine will presents itself to him as other than his own, as objective
to him,—when God expressly reveals himself to him. On this definite distinguishing
of one’s own personal, from the divine will, depends all morality; a merely unconscious
following of propension is not moral, but immoral. Man must become conscious that
he does this or that act not simply because it pleases him, but that it pleases
him because it pleases God. In this conscious, discriminating, free choosing of
the divine will as distinguished from the merely natural individual will, man is
expected to discover his essential difference from nature, his belonging to the
kingdom of God; he is to learn to distinguish between “can” and “should,”
between his ability
(b) The inner revelation of the holy will of God in the rational consciousness of man is not a mere instinctive impulse, as this is the characteristic of irrational nature-creatures, nor is it a mere feeling, inasmuch as this, so far as relating to spiritual things, always presupposes a knowledge, a consciousness, but it is a real consciousness, which, however, is at first only obscure and indefinite, and receives more definite contents only through educative revelation, whereby it is developed into full clearness. The inner and the objective revelations, though differing from each other as to the order of their taking-place and as to their form, do not differ in their essential contents, nor indeed as to their certainty; and the objective revelation is no more rendered superfluous by the inner one, than is the latter by the former; each mutually calls for the other.
Just as the educative influencing of the child does not render
superfluous its own active moral self-development, but in fact calls for the same
as its end, and as the latter without the former is not possible, so is it also
with the twofold revelation. If the historical revelation did not lead to a knowledge
of the moral law as immanent in the reason itself, man
On this inner revelation through the God-likeness of the rational
spirit the Scriptures lay some stress, notwithstanding that they speak of it simply
in connection with man as perverted
It is a favorite manner with some to speak of a moral “feeling,”
and even of a moral instinctive “impulse,” as the primitive germ which subsequently
develops itself into a moral consciousness. If by such feeling or impulse so much
is meant as a knowledge as yet indistinct—a presentiment rather than a comprehension,—we
can readily admit it, though in any case the expressions are very inappropriate,
and serve only to confusion. Understood in their proper sense, we must emphatically
reject them; for feeling is simply an immediate becoming-conscious of a state
occasioned in the subject by an impression, and is hence always of a merely subjective
and strictly individual nature, whereas the moral law is per se necessarily
objective and universal—an idea; an idea cannot be felt, but must be known, though
indeed this knowledge may be primarily as yet indistinct. A direct feeling can be
occasioned only by a sensuous impression; of spiritual things I can have
a feeling properly so-called, only after they have become an object of my cognizing
consciousness; every feeling presupposes either a sensuous impression or an idea,
a conception. To consider feeling, in the sphere of the
The revelation of the divine will to the moral subject, as given
in the rational self-consciousness, is the conscience. This is not an originally
ready power, but, as given at first only in germ, it must be developed,—stands in
need of culture, primarily by God himself, and, in all after the first generation.
by the already morally-matured spirit of men; and with its further moral development
it constantly becomes more definite, more clear and more rich in contents. Now,
as sin separates man from God and from the knowledge of Him, and also damagingly
affects the moral training received from others, it is clear that the conscience
has its full purity and power only in a sinless state.—As relating to the moral
life-manifestations, the conscience appears as a morally-judging power, and
as such it is either in harmony with the
The conscience is in its essence, not different from the God-consciousness,
but is only the bearing of the God-consciousness upon the moral; as relating to
the good, it relates also to God, for none is good but God alone [
The conscience is not a mere simple knowing, it is an utterance
of the practical reason, a direct judging of moral thoughts and actions,
an approving or condemning witness as to the moral conduct of man [
The first manifestation of conscience in the Scriptures appears
in the words wherein Eve opposes the temptation: “We may eat of the fruit of the
trees of the garden; but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden,
God hath said: ye shall not eat of it.” Here Eve distinguishes the command, as the
divine will, from her own will; which latter, however, she afterward carries out;
but this adversely judging conscience presupposes a previous first activity of the
same, namely, the recognition of the divine command as
The cognizing activity of the conscience relates primarily and
directly only to the God-pleasing, and not also to the God-repugnant; for the
former is real, but not the latter, and all true and real cognition relates to
something real. Hence the second phase of conscience, that where men’s “eyes are opened” and
they “know the good and the evil,” does not belong to the primative
and pure conscience, but is a manifestation of the conscience as already in antagonism
to the moral actuality of man. As primarily relating to the Godlike, and hence as
attended by a feeling of approbation, the conscience has originally nothing to do
with fear of punishment, but is on the contrary an expression of peace with
God; fear presupposes already a disturbed harmony and a knowledge of good and
evil; hence in the Scriptures we find conscience expressly distinguished from
fear. [
According to Rothe, conscience is the divine activity in its passive
form, that is, it is the soul’s self-activity as being determined by the body, or,
in general, by material nature, and, in the final instance, by the divine self-activity,
or, in general, by God himself,—that is, it is instinctive impulse as religious.
In his opinion conscience lies not on the side of the self-consciousness, but on
that of the self-activity, and relates not to conceptions and to the understanding,
but to volitions and to actions. Conscience has essentially an individual character,—is
of subjective, not of objective, nature; hence it is not correct to speak of a tribunal
of conscience. “The conscience of another has not the least binding force for me,
but only my own; when an appeal is made to conscience,
The essence of the moral law as the divine will cannot be deduced
from the nature of man alone, but essentially only from the idea of God as ruling
righteously in his creation.—(a) As morality rests on freedom, and as freedom
consists in the fact that a man chooses, by a personal independent volition, a
Every presentation of the moral law from the stand-point of man alone, that is, purely from the nature of man, without deriving it from God, is anti-religious, and can never include the whole truth of the moral idea. And in precise proportion as we conceive more highly of the moral nature of man from that stand-point, we render unavoidable his Pantheistic exaltation into the highest realization of God himself—the putting of man in the place of the personal God. We cannot possibly understand the moral law save as the divine purpose in regard to free creatures, and we can base it on the nature of man only in so far as we recognize in and through this nature the divine creative will, the fulfillment of which lies in the realized moral perfection of man.
The fact that any particular action is morally good, necessarily
implies as possible a contrary, or non-good one; and the commanding of the
former is per se a prohibiting of the latter; every command directly implies
the prohibition of the contrary form of action. Now it might seem as if the converse
did not hold good, namely, that a prohibition does not imply at the same time also
a command; the laws: thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not commit adultery, seems
to require simply a non-doing. This, however, would be possible only on condition
that a mere non-doing were in general a
Nevertheless it is not indifferent as to which of the two forms
the moral law assumes; the difference, however, lies not in the essence, but in
the practical educative adaptation. As the essence, the end, of the moral life is
not negative but has positive contents, the true and perfect form of the law is
in fact that of the express command; “thou shalt” is higher than “thou shalt not.”
But for man while as yet undeveloped to moral maturity, the form of prohibition
is the more obvious and simple, since, on the one hand, it brings his moral liberty
of choice more clearly to his consciousness, and, with the exclusion of the immoral,
opens to him the whole
As both forms of the divine law present a duty to the free
will of man, they both bear the expression of a command, a “should.” This is the
form assumed by nearly all laws, from the first one given to Adam to the perfect
laws of Christ. Since the time of Schleiermacher, however, many take offense at
this “should,” and strive to banish it, at least, from the pure moral law.
In Schleiermacher’s Philosophical Ethics, this rejection of the “should” is entirely
consequential; for here the moral is quite as necessarily-determined a phenomenon
of the universe as is the natural, and for freedom of will there is no place whatever;
consequently ethics has no other task than simply to describe that which
takes place from necessity, but not to present laws under the form of requirements,
of duty. Rothe follows this view only up to a certain point; he rejects the form
of the “should” only for sinless man, as indeed also one cannot apply the idea of
“should” to God; only for sinful man can the moral appear as a duty (Eth.
I, Auf., § 817). As relating to God this is doubtless correct, inasmuch as
God’s freedom is not human liberty of choice, and as it absolutely excludes the
possibility of sinning, and since God is absolutely his own law. But as
(b) Whatever is morally good is God’s will, and is hence also moral law; and this law has, as God’s will, an unconditional claim,—presents itself always as a requirement from which there is no escape, and cannot possibly be construed into a mere counsel the non-fulfillment of which would not be a sin, and the voluntary fulfillment of which would constitute a supererogatory merit. The moral goal of every human being is moral perfection, and all that conducts thereto is for every such being an absolute duty, that is, it is God’s will and law concerning him. No one can do more good than is required of him; for the human will cannot be better than the divine, and God’s law is not less good than God’s will. That which in the Scriptures has the appearance of real moral counsel is simply a conditional law, the fulfillment of which becomes a duty to the individual only under certain, not universally-existing, circumstances; but wherever it does become a duty, there it is so absolutely, and hence its non-fulfillment is a violation of duty; and wherever it does not become a duty there its fulfillment has no merit.
Here, for the first time, we meet an antagonism of moral views
between the different Christian churches; and it is a far-reaching one; and from
this point on, in our attempt to construct a system of Christian ethics, and not
simply of the ethical views of this or that church, we must seek for the essence
of Christianity, not merely in those generalities which are common to all particular
churches, but, wherever two views are in irreconcilable antagonism, we must necessarily
decide for that one which is of a really Christian character, and cannot regard
both as equally legitimate. And although. the question in this connection is nearly
always, as to counsels
On a superficial examination it might seem that by the dogma as
to the evangelical counsels (consilia as distinguished
from praecepta) the moral requirements were advanced
higher than the generally-sufficient degrees of morality; the fact is, however,
the very opposite. The notion that there is some good which is not also a
duty, can only be obtained by lowering the moral requirement from that of the highest
possible moral perfection to an inferior requirement; and a supererogatory merit
becomes possible only where the idea of the good embraces more than the moral requirement.
The Protestant church, however, holds fast the view that all real good is absolutely
a duty, and hence that man is obligated to do all the good within his power,—that
he should unconditionally strive for the highest possible perfection. The Protestant
view as to the moral requirement stands therefore higher than the opposing
view. The Protestant church rejects the notion of moral counsels, and of the meritoriousness
of their fulfillment, for the reason that it regards their contents as not absolutely
good, as not per se moral, but as only good under certain not universally-existing
circumstances, but as absolutely commanded when those circumstances do exist.
That which is good in a particular conjuncture is, when that case arises, an absolute
duty, and not a mere discretionary and non-obligating counsel. The saying
of Christ [
The Romish church finds further support for its supererogatory
good works,—which consist essentially in intensified self-denial, that is, in voluntary
celibacy, poverty, obedience to man-devised rules, solitary life, etc.,—in those
texts of the New Testament which seem to present celibacy and voluntary poverty
as a higher morality not to be expected of all Christians. To the rich young man,
who, as he himself affirmed, had kept all the commandments, Christ says [
According to the Romish doctrine there is a difference between
God’s holy will and his moral law; the former has not an unconditional validity,
but is, in relation to man in the sphere of higher moral perfection, simply a wish
the fulfillment of which would indeed be pleasing to God, but with the non-fulfillment
of which He will nevertheless be satisfied. Bellarmin says, apropos to
(c) While, on the one hand, there is no form of action
which could be to the subject, in any given moment, morally indifferent,
that is, neither in harmony nor in disharmony with the divine will, neither good
nor evil, still, on the other hand, no definitely-framed form of law
embraces within itself the total contents of the moral life-sphere; for as every
law has only contents of a general character, while the moral activity itself is
always of an individual character, so that the moral actions of different men
that fall under the same moral law offer a great diversity, hence the moral law
does not sustain to the actions that answer to it precisely the same relation as
an idea to its direct realization and manifestation; the particular moral action
is not the simple, pure expression and copy of the moral law itself, but it
always contains something which does not arise from the law, but from the
individual peculiarity. The law as appropriated by the person is fulfilled only
in such a manner as expresses also the peculiarity of the person. Every moral
action contains therefore two elements: a general ideal one, the moral law, and
a particular and inure real one, the personal element,—
By this notion of the right of personality Christian Ethics differs
from all non-Christian systems, not excepting those of the Greeks, notwithstanding
that the latter lay such great stress on the freedom of the person; and this feature
is of wide-reaching significance. The decided rejection of the notion that there
may be morally-indifferent actions and conditions, and the emphasizing the rights
of personal individuality, are very essential to a true understanding of the moral.
By insisting disproportionately on the former, we leave too little room for the
peculiarity of the moral personality, and make it necessary that for every particular
action there should be also a special law; this leads inevitably to a legal bondage
hostile alike to all vital individuality, and to the essence of personal freedom.
This is the stand-point of Chinese and of Talmudic ethics, and to a certain extent,
of the casuistics of some Romish moralists. On the other hand, if we insist too
exclusively on the peculiarity of the person, we incur the danger of trespassing
on the unconditional validity of the law, to the profit of the fortuitous caprice
of the subject,—somewhat as recently in the period of the so-called “geniuses”
At each and every particular point of time, the moral activity and the moral state are either good or evil, either in harmony with the moral idea or not so. Although in the same action there may be different phases which have morally different characters, and which place good and evil in close proximity, still these contrary elements never coalesce into a moral neutrum, into a morally-indefinite fluctuating between good and evil—a moral indifference. An individual may indeed be morally undecided, neither cold nor warm; this indecision, however, is not of a morally-indifferent character, but is itself evil. There may be different degrees of good or evil, but not an action that is neither good nor evil. This will become self-evident if we fix our mind on the fundamental idea of good and evil as that which answers to, or does not answer to, the divine will; between these two a third is absolutely inconceivable, just as in mathematics there is no medium between a correct and a false result, or in a clearly presented legal case no medium between yes and no. The bride who cannot answer “yes” to the question as to her willingness to the marriage, says thereby, in fact, “no;” and whoever does not at any given moment say “yes” to God’s never neutral will, simply rejects it. The essentially self-contradictory assumption of a morally-indifferent middle-sphere between good and evil, is in itself anti-moral; and every immoral person is only too ready to transfer all his immorality, in so far as he cannot explain it into good, into this pretended sphere of the morally indifferent.
And yet this so widely prevalent tendency to assume that there
is a morally-indifferent sphere of action, is based on an actual, though falsely
interpreted, presentiment of the true relations in the case. The fact is, every
feature in correct moral action is not directly and specifically determined
by the moral law, but a very essential phase of such action, has another
The virtualization of the personal element is not to be understood
as a something conflicting with the divine law; on the contrary, it is in fact the
divine will that the peculiarity of the personality be preserved. If, at first thought.
it should
The sphere of the personally-peculiar element is that of the
discretionary or the allowed. That particular action which is neither
commanded nor forbidden in general by any moral law is an allowed
This is one of the most important and, at the same time, most difficult points in ethical science, and both for the same reason, namely, from the necessity of giving play to personal freedom, and of doing this without infringing on the unconditionally-valid moral law; and in exact proportion as a system of ethics embraces the idea of personal freedom, will it also be able to embrace the idea of the allowed. As in express laws—commands and prohibitions—God manifests himself as holy, so in the concession of the allowed he shows himself as loving. As in the fulfilling of the command and in the observing of the prohibition, man becomes conscious of his moral freedom, so, within the sphere of the allowed, this freedom becomes to him an enjoyment. Now, as freedom of will is not a mere antecedent condition of all morality, but also itself a moral good, and as every good is per se an enjoyment, hence free-created beings have also a moral claim upon the legitimate enjoyment of freedom,—not simply of freedom as subject to definite commands, but also of freedom as entitled to free choice in various directions,—that is, they have discretionary power to free activity; this constitutes in fact the divinely conceded sphere of the allowed, wherein mainly the personally-peculiar element of the moral comes to virtualization.
The very first moral direction, or rather blessing, that was given
to man, contains implicitly the notion of the allowed or discretionary: “Replenish
the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea,” etc.
This is really not so much a command as a blessing,—it proposes a moral goal, a
good. But in this good that is to be sought after, namely, dominion over nature,
there is at the same time implied a command to realize this supremacy of
the rational spirit through moral activity. But within this command there lies also
a discretionary field. The particular manner how man is
In the state of innocence the sphere of the allowed was, notwithstanding
the indispensable educative limitation, wider than it was subsequently in the state
of sin, not, however, because men were then morally more contracted, but because
they were morally purer. In consequence of redemption from the power of sin, the
now sanctified personality becomes also freer, and the sphere of the allowed is
enlarged;
The words of Paul [
The sphere of the allowed is the more special theater of personal freedom, as distinguished from mere moral freedom. In obedience to the commanding law I am indeed free, but this freedom is nevertheless a controlled one; it is true, I can will and act otherwise than the law wills, but I dare not; and if I in fact do so, then I violate the law, then I am an enemy of God; I have the liberty but not the right so to act. Commanded duty has consequently, notwithstanding the liberty on which it rests, always still a certain constraint in it; and though in the mere literal fulfillment of the law, man becomes conscious of his freedom, yet he does not come to a proper and full enjoyment thereof. If God’s law actually entered, prescribing and prohibiting, into all the details of individual action, without, by some concessions, allowing play-ground for discretionary action, then, though man would indeed have the privilege of freely obeying or disobeying at each particular moment, nevertheless he would feel the law as a burden upon him; and Paul was very apt in expression when he spoke of the preparatory law of the Old Covenant as a chastening-master. For the simple reason that the essence of man is freedom or self-determination, it is natural for him to aspire to become also fully conscious of this freedom,—to put it into exercise in so far as consistent with his moral obedience,—and hence he needs a free field wherein he may act with real freedom, without having his actions in every respect prescribed to him, without being strictly bound by the law,—where, in a word, he may say: I may choose this, but I do not need to choose it; and whether I choose this or that depends entirely on my personal self-determination, and that too without detriment to my moral duty.
The sphere of the allowed stands in the same relation to that
of the express law as play to earnest activity. Play also is an element essential
to the full development of youthful moral life. With the child, play is of high
moral significancy, as it is thereby that it learns to comprehend, to exercise,
and to enjoy its full personal freedom. In learning and working the child is also
free; but however good and zealous of work it may be, it is nevertheless conscious
at the same time of being controlled by an objective law to which it must adapt
itself; the other and equally legitimate phase of its life, that of personal freedom
and self-determination, is revealed to it in its purest form only in play; and the
child, even the morally-good one, finds so great a delight in play, for the simple
reason that it thereby comes to the enjoyment of its personal freedom; and the essence
of its enjoyment lies in the simple fact that in its playful activity and feats
it is free lord of its own volitions and movements; and those children become spiritually
dull whose plays are strictly watched over by tutorial intermeddling. Playing is
freedom, however, only in form, and is without definite contents; hence it is essentially
only a transition-occupation appropriate to the age of childhood. The sphere of
the allowed in general, is the wider and positive-grown extension of that play.
Here belongs recreation after labor, as in contrast to the positive fulfilling
of the law; recreation is per se morally good and its essence consists in
freedom; that I select precisely this path for a promenade, or busy myself thus
or thus, is neither prescribed to me by any law, nor is that which I do not select
forbidden. It is entirely erroneous to say that man must be totally swallowed up
in his calling, that he has a definite duty to fulfill at every moment; this would
be a moral slavery. The sphere of personal liberty has also its own good right,
and for the plain reason that man is not merely an obligated member of the whole,
but also a free individuality. Recreation per se is therefore by no means
of a morally indifferent character, but the particular mode of its realization is
discretionary, and the moral law is not, at this point, of a detailed particularizing
character, but it simply hovers protectingly on the outskirts, and wards against
abuses,—even as a prudent educator simply exercises a protecting oversight over
the
Schleiermacher (Werke III, 2, 418 sqq.) denies the
admissibility of the notion of actions that are merely allowed. We have, in his
opinion, no time for that which claims to be, not duty, but simply allowed, not
morally necessary, but only morally possible; every performance of such an action
implies a definite willingness to act otherwise than from moral motives,—which is
immoral; the idea of the allowed belongs not to ethics but to civil law. This we
concede in so far as Schleiermacher speaks of such actions as are held to be neither
in conformity nor in disconformity to duty, that is morally indifferent, but this
is by no means the true idea of the allowed. However, we do not admit the existence
of such a class of actions; but in morally-good actions there is a
phase which is not determined by the law itself, and which constitutes the
allowed.—Rothe (Ethik, 1 Auf. § 819) finds the idea of the allowed
in the fact that particular forms of action cannot be referred with certainty to
a particular legal formula, so that consequently their moral worth cannot be estimated
thereby beyond a doubt. The reason of this may lie in the incompleteness of the
law; hence the allowed has a larger scope in the minority-period and with children;
but as the law becomes more definite and perfect, the sphere of the
Writers often admit two different species of the allowed: the one is allowed because of the meagerness of the moral knowledge, as with the child; the other, conversely, because of the advanced state of the moral maturity. This difference, however, is by no means a real one; and, when expressed in this form, the idea of the allowed has no longer any unity, but involves a direct antagonism. Rather do both of these forms of the allowed fall under the one notion of the rights of the personal peculiarity. Many things are, for the peculiar nature of the child, morally good, which are not so for a riper person, and for the simple reason that the unsuspecting child, in doing that which would be improper in those of riper years, “thinketh no evil,” and because the sentiment holds good also of unconscious innocence, that “to the pure all things are pure.” And the case is essentially the same with him who is morally matured; simply the form is different. When man has come, through moral growth, into a state of conscious innocence, then also to him, as being pure, many a thing is pure which would be impure to the sinful.
In so far as the moral law is made into a moral possession of the person, that is, a constituent element of his personally-moral nature, it becomes to him a moral principle, a life-rule or maxim; without moral principles there is no real morality. As in this union with the personal peculiarity the moral law itself enters into this peculiarity, hence though it is in fact the same always and for all men, still the life-rules that grow out of this law, among different persons and nations and under different conditions in life, must evidently also be relatively different. The correct shaping of the moral law into life-rules correspondent to the peculiarity of persons and circumstances, constitutes the principal work of practical wisdom.—A disregarding of the rights of the personal peculiarity in the moral life, and the exclusive application of general and definitely-expressed laws as direct rules of life, result in a servitude to a legal yoke (rigorism) which is incapable of producing any truly personal morality, and has no justification save as a temporary disciplinary process in a state of depravity.
The law is not of man, but solely of God; life-rules each person
makes for himself, not, however, independently of the law, but as based on it, though
peculiarly modified by his moral personality. The life-rule or maxim is the law
as incarnated, as having become subjective; in it man has appropriated the law as
a personal possession,—has merged it into his flesh and blood. My life-rule, even
in so far as it is perfectly correct, is valid in this definite form only for me,
and it may legitimately enough be widely different at different life-stages and
under different circumstances. The manifoldness of life-rules contributes to the
esthetic richness of the
It creates confusion to confound the moral law with personal life-rules;
it inevitably leads either to legal bondage or to moral laxity. The Scriptures contain
not only moral laws, but also life-rules for particular, not generally existing
life-relations, and the regarding these latter as general moral commands or counsels
has sometimes led Christian ethics into error. When the apostle recommends celibacy
because of the “present distress” [
The moral law as (by virtue of the particular form into which it is thrown by the peculiarity of the moral person) requiring its realization in a particular case, is moral duty; duty is, therefore, the law as coming to actual application in moral action through the moral life-rules into which it has been shaped by appropriation into the moral person,—that is, it is the law as realizing itself under the form of life-rules, in other words, it is the law as shaping itself in and for a particular person under particular circumstances, and as becoming in him a determining and actuating power. I fulfill the law in that I do my duty. The duties that spring from the same law are different for different men and for different circumstances.—As, therefore, duty is the product of two elements, the moral law and the peculiarity of the person, and as the moral laws collectively, though existing under the form of a plurality, must yet of necessity constitute a concordant whole, hence, if we leave out of view the actuality of sin, a conflict of different duties with each other (collision of duties) is utterly impossible. The distinction of conditional and unconditional duties is not correct, and rests on a confounding of the notions of law and duty.
The moral person does not directly and strictly fulfill the law,
but simply his duty. Even ordinary speech indicates the difference; we do not say,
“my law,” but always, “my duty.” The law per se is general and above
man; duty is always
When the law is presented in the general form of command or prohibition,
the manners in which the manifold relations of life make it the duty of different
persons to fulfill it are so different, that there may even arise an appearance
of contradiction. The fact is, however, that for a real conflict (collision)
of duties (a subject which has from of old been a favorite and
The idea of duty is often otherwise understood than as here presented.
Duty is frequently declared to be the divine law itself. Now if by this is meant,
that which God requires of us in each particular case, and that too of each individual
in particular, then it would be correct,—this, however, is not expressed by the
term “law;” but if it means, that duty and the divine law are identical, then it
is incorrect. More definite is the statement, that duty is the manner of action
which conforms to or harmonizes with the law. The Kantian school explains duty as
that which, according to the law, should take place, or which, by virtue
of a law, is practically necessary, or which answers to an obligation,—obligation
being understood as the necessity of an action in consequence of a moral law. All
these statements are inadequate, inasmuch as the personal peculiarity is left out
of the account, so that consequently no difference whatever is made between duty
and law; and as to how obligation differs from duty we are utterly unable to see.
Schleiermacher in his System (§ 112 sqq.) defines duty as “the form
of conduct in which the activity of the reason is at the same time special, as directed
upon the particular, and also general, as directed upon the totality,” or,
the law of the free self-determination of the individual in relation to the common
moral life-task of the race, or, the formula for the guidance of rationality in
single actions in
To duty on the part of the moral subject, corresponds right
on the part of the law. My duty is to fulfill the right of the moral law, that is,
the right of God to, or his claim upon, me. The substance of dutiful action is therefore
justice or right, and the product of this action is the right, i. e., the
realized claim. Hence dutiful action is per se right-doing. Duty and right
call for each other,—are but two phases of the same thing; to every right there
corresponds a duty, and conversely,—simply the subjects are different; every duty
is the expression of a right; another’s right in regard to me is for me a duty,
and to the fulfillment of another’s duty in regard to me I have a right; the two
ideas are absolutely correlative and co-extensive. In virtue of duty I accomplish
the moral, for the law has a right, a claim, upon me; in virtue of right the moral
is accomplished upon me; in the fulfilling of duty I keep the
law; in my accomplishing of the right the law keeps me. The fulfilling of
my duty obtains for me a right to, or claim upon, the moral law in so far
as this law is an element of universal order, namely, the right to be a real, living,
and hence free, member of the moral whole,—in other words, a. moral claim on the
just recompense of God. There is, morally, no other right of an individual than
such as is conditioned by a corresponding fulfillment of duty on his part;
As duty is not merely of a subjective character, a mere utterance
of the individual consciousness, but the law as appropriated by the person, so also,
and equally emphatically, is right also not a mere subjective something with no
better basis than a merely fortuitous power of the individual. Every right of the
individual is a special expression of the right of the whole, and is valid only
in so far as this individual is in moral harmony with the whole. Whoever by undutiful
conduct dissolves his union with the moral whole, loses thereby, in like measure,
his right to or claim upon the whole. Duty and right are both an expression of the
moral; the former is the moral as subjective obligation, the latter is the moral
as objective requirement; both manifest the essence of the moral as an essential
law of collective being. The individual has duties and rights only as in vital union
with the whole. I have duties and rights, not in virtue of being a mere individual,
but in virtue of the fact that the totality of being bears a moral character. From
this it follows at once, that there can be true duties and rights only where the
morality of the whole is based, not merely on the morality of the individual persons,—which
would be a mere arguing in a circle,—but where it is based on the holiness of the
personality of God. I can keep and fulfill the law only when the law keeps and fulfills
me; I can do my duty only when I therein recognize a right or claim of the
moral whole, and hence of the holy God, upon me. An impersonal whole has no right
to, nor
In such a moral world-order where duty and right are absolutely correlative, where right extends as far as duty, and duty as far as right, every one receives strictly his own right—his due. The dutiful man has a right upon the moral whole,—a right to have his personality respected,—and it is thus that the moral law, the moral world-order, realizes itself on man; it upholds in a just and honorable position him who has upheld it. He who gives honor to God, to him God gives also his honor. Also he who violates duty receives his right; every punishment is the fulfilling of the right of God and of the collective universe upon the individual; the criminal has a right to the punishment; when the criminal comes to his right mind he demands himself his own punishment, and a child that is not totally perverted finds a moral tranquillization in suffering the punishment it deserves,—it even calls for it.
The notion that the fulfillment of moral duty acquires for man
a claim upon the moral order of the world, and hence upon God, is emphatically rejected
by Schwarz (Eth. I, p. 199), who even declares such a view as blasphemous;
God alone, he holds, is the absolutely-entitled One; man has, as toward God, simply
duties, but no rights; God only can have claims upon us, not we upon God. And he
appeals for support to
In the manner of viewing the relations between right and
As the moral is the free realizing of the good, and as the good itself is the inner law and nature of the divinely-created All, hence, in every moral activity, man comes into relation to this All, and this All—as well as also God himself—becomes in its entire existence, so far as within the scope of man, an object of the moral activity, namely, either in that as a good it is brought into unity with the moral person, or appropriated by the same,—or in that, as material capable of being modified, it is formed by the moral activity.
I. The moral life relates primarily always to God. God
can be an object of the morally-pious activity only in so far as he is conceived
of as a personal spirit; to an impersonal God there can be no moral relation. This
moral activity is not a mere receiving, but it is a real acting, namely, in that
man not only turns himself toward God, but in that he also turns God toward himself;
the good that is realized by this activity becomes actual, however, not in God,
but in us, in that it brings us into communion with God, so that consequently
all pious activity is at the same time a moral producing for ourselves.—As God
upholds, and rules in, all creatures, hence all moral activity without exception
stands in relation
Every view is defective which excludes from the moral life any
thing whatever that comes into the life-sphere of man. This is precisely that which
distinguishes rational creatures from the irrational, namely, that the latter have
always simply a quite definite and restricted scope for their life-manifestation,
while every thing else is indifferent to them, and as good as not existing, whereas
rational creatures have an interest in all that exists, and bring it into some manner
of relation to themselves. Perfect indifference to the world is Indian, but not
Christian, wisdom; God is indifferent to nothing, and for this reason moral man,
the image of God, is so also. The collective All and God himself constitute the
life-sphere of the moral. Because of the inner unity of all things, every moral
act not only reverberates in the whole universe, and there is joy among the angels
in heaven over one sinner that repents, but this act itself acts upon the All, for
all that is good and all that is capable of good belong together in one great unity.
The declaration: “Whether life, or death, or things present or things to come—all
are yours” [
The conceiving of God himself as an object of the moral activity
is a fundamental point in Christian ethics. It is true the heathen also required
reverence toward the gods, but this exercise of piety did not rise to a dominating
power over the entire moral life. In recent times it has become a favorite view
to regard the moral as not relating to God at all, but only to man, or indeed also
to nature; it is even said that God cannot be an object of the moral activity, seeing
that because of his unapproachable sublimity he must be inaccessible
God, as living and personal, cannot sustain a relation of indifference
to human conduct. If we can speak in any proper sense of a displeasure of God at
sin, of a wrath of God against sin, then must also, conversely, the pleasure of
God in the moral conduct of man be of a real character, and hence, in some manner,
conditioned by said conduct. The moral activity as relating to God is per se
necessarily pious; but to presume, for this reason, to exclude it from the
sphere of the moral, would be very inconsistent; for in fact it takes place with
freedom, and with moral consciousness and with moral purpose, and it is frequently,
in the Scriptures, expressly required as a duty; and all duties are moral. But,
on the other hand, all duties are also pious, inasmuch as morality is always in
very close association with piety (§ 55),
The distribution of the subject-matter of ethics into duties toward
God, duties toward one’s self and duties toward other men, was formerly very usual;
it was, however, only partially correct. God fills, in fact, heaven and earth, and
the statement of Christ that whatever “ye have done unto one of the least of these
my brethren, ye have done it unto me” [
II. The moral activity as strengthened by its moral relation to God, that is, by communion with Him, comes now, and only in consequence of this strengthening, into a truly moral relation to the created,—comprehending both the moral person himself and also the, to him, objective world.
(1) The moral person is his own object. Man is morally to form, to cultivate himself—to make his personal peculiar reality a product of his moral activity. Man is what he is as a person solely in virtue of moral activity; without this activity he remains in spiritual unculture, and is essentially impersonal. Hence man is, in so far, an object of his own moral activity, as he has not yet attained to his ultimate perfection,—in so far as he is a cultivable and, as yet, relatively incompleted being, that is, in so far as there is yet a difference between his ideal and his reality. Man is to form himself into a good entity, that is, into a personal reality that is in full harmony with God, with itself and with the All, in so far as this is good.
The possibility of man’s bearing a moral relation to himself rests
on the nature of rational self-consciousness, wherein man becomes in fact an object
to himself. If man were from the very start absolutely perfect and complete, he
would still be, even then, an object of his own moral activity, only however under
its conserving, but not under its formative, phase. Progressive development is implied
in the very nature of the created spirit, and there is no stage of temporal life
conceivable where man would not have a still higher perfection to attain to, and
further moral culture to work out.—All self-forming, unless kept in harmony with
God, becomes necessarily anti-moral. Man can, it is true, develop himself in harmony
with himself without being in harmony with God,
(a) The spirit is an object of the moral activity in virtue
of its being per se merely the possibility of its real development into a
rational spirit,—the germ of itself,—and because it does not develop itself into
its full reality by inner nature-necessity, but by freedom. Man has, in virtue of
his very constitution, the task of forming himself into the full reality and truth
of spiritual being, namely, in respect both to his knowing, to his feeling, and
to his willing,—that is, into the perfect image of God. The soul-life of brutes
shapes itself by inner nature-necessity; brutes have no need of education; man,
however, without education and without moral self-culture would sink below the brute,
and for the evident reason that he would thus fall into complete self-antagonism;
his freedom would become unbridled barbarity. Spirit lives only by continuous development;
where it is not morally trained, it pines away and degenerates. What Christ says
of the received talents [
(b) The body is an object of the moral activity
in so far as it is the necessary organ of the spirit in its relation to the world.
It is not from the very start an absolutely subserving and perfectly spirit-imbued
organ (§ 65, 66), nor does it become such by purely natural development, but it
is trained into such only by the rightful dominating of the rational spirit over
it. The merely natural development of the spirit forms not as yet a spirit’s-body,
but only an unspiritual animal body. Even as in the features of the countenance,
spiritual unculture and spiritual refinement are almost always visibly expressed,
so is also the body in its entire being subject to the refining influence of the
moral spirit; and this influence ought not to be of a merely mediate and unintended
character, as resulting from the unconsciously-ruling potency of the spiritual life
in the body, but in fact also of an immediate character. The good that inheres in
the body is to be faithfully preserved,—the germs of higher perfection to be developed.
(2) The external world as an object of the moral activity,—the
widest and almost endlessly diversified field of this activity,—is—(a)
the world of rational beings,—primarily and chiefly the world of humanity.
To the moral person other persons stand, on the one hand, in the relation of
similarity, in virtue of the common possession of a rational nature, and, on
the other, in the relation of difference, in so far as each individual is
an independent moral person with a special peculiarity; and it is the part of the
moral activity at once to respect, to acknowledge, to preserve, and to promote both
these features, and to bring them into reciprocal harmony. A human being never becomes,
for the person acting upon it, a merely dependent rightless object, but in all cases
continues to be a personality that is to be respected in its legitimate peculiarity,
and hence it should never become an unfree and as it were impersonal
Here also Christian morality comes into striking antagonism to
all non-Christian morality. The thought of mankind as a homogeneous whole of which
each individual is a legitimate rightful member, is peculiar to Christianity; the
heathen know only nations and compatriots but not humanity and man; even the free
Greek and the Roman make the distinction both in fact and in law between persons
and slaves; the slave is only a thing, not a moral personality. All acting upon
others which aims simply to exert an influence upon them without also receiving
an influence from them, is immoral. Even the immature child necessarily exerts some
influence upon its educator; and when Christ presented a child to his disciples
as a moral pattern [
The moral conceiving of man as an object of the moral activity,
presupposes that we have in fact to do with real true men, men who are not only
similar to us, but who are bound to us as members of one body. To creatures
which, while belonging to the zoological order bimana, and while differing
from the ape by the formation of the skull and of the feet and
Christianity has from the beginning had a clear consciousness
of the moral significancy of the original unity of the human race. Though
God had undoubtedly the power to create thousands of men in the different parts
of the earth, instead of one, as he did in fact do in the case of plants and animals,
nevertheless it must be for good reasons that in the Scriptures the whole human
race is assumed to have sprung from a single stock [
The very natural and in fact morally legitimate feeling, that
blood-relatives stand to us in a closer relation of duty than entire strangers,
contains a profound truth. It calls forth really a very different and morally more
potent feeling, when we know that even the degenerated negro is of our own blood,
our brother, sprang from one father, than if we should assume that he is originally,
and by nature, of a spiritually and corporeally inferior species [August., De
Civ. Dei., xii, 21]. That which forms no unessential part of the world-historical
honor of Christianity, namely, that it has made slavery morally impossible,
has been again absolutely put into question by the teachings of naturalism; and
it is scientifically as well as morally a signal indication of inconsideration,
and especially so on the part of theologians, to declare the decision of the question
as to the original unity of the human race as a mere non-essential matter. By the
assumption that there were originally different races, the slavery-system is not
only excused, but it is directly justified. In fact man has not only not the duty,
but he has not the right to break down the original and naturally-constituted differences
of spiritual existence. But the moral influencing of the degenerate races consists
essentially in raising the actually lower-standing individuals of the colored
races to the height of the whites,—in placing them both, in spiritually-moral respects,
on an equal footing, in making of the colored races our true and proper brothers,
in doing away, in fact, with whatever places them actually below the whites. But
the effort to do this would be, in the eyes of the above-mentioned teaching, a simple
presumption, a transgression of the limits prescribed to us by nature herself; according
to it, the negro is destined by his primitive and manifestly inferior peculiarity,
to service under
(b) External nature as an object of the moral activity
is such not merely in its single manifestations, but also in its totality. On the
one hand, nature exists not for itself but for the rational spirit for man; on the
other, it is, as a work of divine creation, a good thing, and hence has rights in
and of itself:—(1) Nature is by origin and essence destined to be dominated by
the rational spirit as God’s image,—to be formed by the spirit into its organ and
for its service. As nature is not per se moral, hence man’s moral relation
to it does not consist in his receiving from it a direct moral influence, though
indeed he does receive from it a mediate moral influence through the contemplation
of the image of God as manifesting itself therein, but in his acting morally upon
it. For the single individual, this action is always limited to a narrow theater,
but for humanity it extends to all terrestrial nature. As the body is related to
the individual spirit, so is nature related to humanity in general; nature’s destination
is to be perfectly subservient to man and to be exalted in the service of his rational
destination.—(2) But this dominating of nature is essentially conditioned on the
truly moral and hence rational self-culture of man, in virtue of which nature is
not to be subjected
The relation of nature to the rational spirit is neither that
of an object absolutely different from and foreign to it, seeing that both are the
work of one creative spirit, nor that of a power entitled to dominate over
the same; this would be a reversing of the moral order of the world; for that which
is per se higher and rational should not be enslaved under that which is
inferior and irrational. If, therefore, nature and spirit exist for each
other, and if they are to constitute an intimate unity, then the only relation possible
is, that the spirit shall be the dominating power over nature,—the power that forms
and molds it. And if in reality the relation is in many respects now actually otherwise,
still this should not lead us astray in conceiving of the true relation between
them in a sinless state. The rational consciousness of all nations has at least
some presentiment of the proper relation. Even as in all forms of superstition a
more or less clear expression is given to a presentiment, though indeed misapplied,
of a corresponding deeper truth that lies beyond the grasp of the superficial understanding,
so also has the notion of magic, so widely prevalent throughout heathendom,
its roots in a presentiment of the true relation of reason to nature.
Nevertheless nature is not to be considered as mere material for the active spirit, and absolutely without rights of its own; it has a right to be respected, because of the rationality that is impressed upon it. From the face of nature the Spirit of the Creator beams forth upon us with striking evidence; here also there is holy ground which man should not tread with unwashed feet. That is not a moral bearing toward nature which forgets the image of God that is stamped upon it, and which, in the zeal of shaping and enjoying it, perceives not that also natural objects, even while as yet untouched by the plastic hand of man, proclaim the glory of God. The Hindoo’s dread-reverencing of natural objects, though indeed oblivious of the Creator, has yet a positive presentiment of the divine in the works of the, to him, unknown God.
EVERY motive to action is primarily a feeling; but feeling springs from a consciousness. And feeling is such motive under both of its forms of manifestation, as feeling of satisfaction or of dissatisfaction, and hence of pleasure or of displeasure. The feeling of displeasure is to be assumed as existing to a certain degree also in a state of strictly normal life-development, namely, in so far as man, before reaching his last stage of perfection, has always a consciousness, that as yet something is lacking to him to which he is yet to attain. This is not pain, but yet it is a feeling of want.
Any view is contrary to the nature of the soul-life which assumes
any other soul activity, as, for example, cognition, as the most immediate motive
of the moral. Thought per se contains nothing that moves the will; but thought
is in fact never absolutely alone, is never a merely inert possession, but it excites
at once and necessarily a feeling, and then, through this feeling, the will.
I feel myself in some way affected by the perceived or conceived, more or
less agreeably or disagreeably, according as it is in harmony with, or in contradiction
to, my present state. An entire indifference is here impossible, though indeed the
shades of the feeling of pleasure or displeasure may be very different,—impossible
for the reason that that which I receive into myself sensuously or spiritually,
must necessarily come into some sort of relation to my present corporeal or spiritual
reality, and for the reason that this relation
It might, now, seem that while in the condition of the primitive
sinless goodness of human nature, there would be place for feelings of pleasure,
that is, of happiness, yet there would not be occasion for the feeling of displeasure.
This would be only then correct when man’s original perfection should be conceived
of, contrary to the very idea of life in general, as a state of completion. But
all capability of development implies a certain lack, though not a fault, nor a
non-good; and every consciousness of a lack awakens the feeling of a want,
Feeling as relating to the object that excites it, is, as a feeling
of pleasure, love, and, as a feeling of displeasure, hatred. Between
these two there is no third, although both may exist in different degrees and even
in association with each other. Hence love is the feeling of pleasure which springs
from the consciousness of the harmony of a real or conceived object with the actual
state of the subject, together with a desire to preserve and to perfect this
harmony, and hence also to preserve the being and essence of this object. Hatred
is the feeling of displeasure which springs from the consciousness of an irreconcilable
antagonism between the object and the subject, together with a desire to destroy
this antagonism in the object, even should this involve the destruction itself of
that object. In a normal moral condition of things where all that exists is good,
love alone has a real object, while hatred has only a possible one.—Love is essentially
of a preserving character, hatred is essentially of a negating, destroying
character; as, however, all moral action aims to create a reality by continuous
development, hence preserving love is necessarily at the same time also promotive
of the being and nature of the beloved object, and negating hatred is at the same
time a confirming of the opposite of the bated object. Hence love works in order
“Love is the fulfilling of the law” [πλήρωμα,
Love is taken here primarily as not yet a virtue or a disposition, but as a simple feeling occasioned by a consciousness of harmony or of disharmony. The love that is required as the fulfilling of the law is more than mere feeling, though indeed it has feeling as its basis and essence. And yet the love here in question is not a mere feeling of pleasure, not a mere impressed state of the heart, but it contains in itself at the same time a power prompting to an active relation to the beloved object. All love has for its object a something that is good, and hence, as relating to the subject, a good (§ 51), and it evidences the existence of this good by the outgoing and recognizing life-movement of the subject toward it,—by the effort of the subject toward the object in order to preserve or intensify its unity, its harmony therewith. Now as all existences are created for each other and destined to a self-harmonious life, hence love is the primitive feeling of all rational creatures,—the direct witness of the goodness of existence, an echo of that first witness of the Creator as to his created work, and hence also the innermost vitality of the moral life, the purpose and essence of which is in fact, harmony, or the good. Directed toward the good, and hence the divine, love has for itself the pledge of eternity; whereas moral hatred, as directed against all non-good, that is, anti-divine, has, in virtue of its negating nature, for its purpose, the destroying of its object and of itself with it. Peace is the goal of love and also of hatred,—is an essential phase of the highest good itself.
If love is the motive to all moral action, and consequently also
the necessary presupposition thereof; hence there must also be an ante-moral
love, one that is per se not yet moral but which simply leads to the moral.
In man’s originally-possessed, though not as
If the feeling of love is a directly excited one, and, as such, the presupposition of the moral activity to which it leads, it would seem as if moral freedom were actually precluded. For this feeling is as yet involuntary and unfree; and love and hatred produce, directly, a desire or a rejection. On the other hand, we cannot possibly exclude love from the sphere of the moral, and make of it a mere antecedent condition of the same; for according to the Christian consciousness at least, man is morally responsible for his love and his hatred; love is an object of duty, and is required by Christ as the essence of all fulfillment of the law. This seems like an irreconcilable contradiction.
In the first place, it is unavoidably necessary to admit that
there is an ante-moral love. Brutes even have love, and are thereby impelled
to activity; also the child at its mother’s breast feels and manifests love. This
is not a love springing from free conscious volition,—not a moral love,—but a purely
natural love, which forms, however, the necessary antecedent condition of all development
to morality. Primitive man must also have had such a love, inasmuch as without this
a life of God’s image is not conceivable. Created in harmony with God and with the
All, he must have had also a direct feeling of this harmony, must have felt
happy in his existence and in
But the matter assumes a very different aspect when we take into
account the equally natural and immediate ante-moral impulse of self-love.
This must, in fact, also be regarded as ante-moral, for the reason that it is the
involuntary natural expression of soul-life in general, and hence exists also unconsciously
among brutes. The fact that with man it is conscious, and constitutes a phase of
rational self-consciousness, does not make it per se moral, but simply renders
it capable of being formed into a moral quality. While now in the case of the brute
the unconscious self-love can never become really evil, the self-love of man is,
by virtue of the higher independence of the free spirit, only in a possible
harmony with the love to God and the universe, but should come into real
harmony therewith. Self-love is per se good,—is by no means the same as self-seeking
or selfishness; Christ himself represents
The primitive love of man to God and his works becomes moral only, when, with consciousness and free recognition, it is confirmed by the self-loving spirit, and when the love to God is made to control the love of self, that is, when this twofold love becomes a striving of the self-love to put itself into harmony with all love, through free self-subordination to the love for God. Love as moral, and as consciously striving toward its object, becomes disposition. Hence for all further development of the moral life, a moral disposition is the necessary antecedent condition; and it is such in its twofold form, as the affirming disposition of love, and, with reference to evil, as the negating disposition of hatred. It is only as disposition, but not as ante-moral natural lobe, that love is an object of the divine law, a moral requirement, whereas the ante-moral love is simply an element of the good that is conferred in creation itself. Hence, as moral motive, love is also the basis of the moral in the fullest sense of the word, the life-inspiring germ of all other moral activity.
By the fact that love becomes a moral duty, it does not cease
to be a moral motive. Man, as, awakened to moral consciousness, is to have no other
motive of his moral activity than one which he has himself morally constituted,—not
a merely natural ante-moral love, but love as a disposition. Many are led to deny
that love is at all an object of the divine law, from the simple fact that they
reduce it to a mere involuntary feeling. Also Rothe affirms that we cannot command
to love, but only to learn to love. This is very nearly a distinction without
a difference; for if we can command to learn, and this learning has a necessary
result, then evidently in commanding the learning we also command the result. The
notion that man is per se, and irrespective of his moral
As morality is the free fulfilling of the divine will, hence moral
love is primarily always love to God, and the love to created things is moral
only in so far as it springs from the love to God,—considers created things as the
work of God, and loves them in him.
As rational thought finds the unity of its thought-world only
in the thought of God, so also moral love finds its rest and its unity only in love
to God; it is not content with the semblance thereof but only with the truth; and
all things have their truth only in their relation to God. As that love is higher,
truer, and mightier which loves, in a person, not merely the earthly but also the
soul, so is that love higher, truer, and mightier which loves in man, not merely
the creature but also the image of God, and, through it, God himself. Love is the
more genuine the higher its object; he who sees in creatures the trace of God, and
loves God in them, he alone loves with the whole might of love. The proper love
to the creature rests on the consciousness that “the earth is the Lord’s and the
fullness thereof” [
This true mutual relation of our love to the creature and our
love to God, appears still more striking when we attentively consider the relation
of human love to the divine love. As human thinking is only a reflection of the
divine thought, so also is human love only a reflection of the divine love. All
that is true and good in the copy is enkindled by the true and the good of the prototype;
“He that loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love” [
While our love to created things is either simply a love to the
inferior, or to the equal, or to the merely relatively higher, and hence always
meets its object with a consciousness of its own independent power and of an individual
personal right, our love to God is, as directed to One that is absolutely superior
to all that is human, always associated with a consciousness of our own impotency
as in contrast to the infinite
In all love to a created object our moral action is complementive
and promotive of the being and life of the same; we render to it in our love a real
service, and obtain for ourselves a claim upon its grateful, answering love. But
God’s being and life cannot be complemented and heightened by our love; we cannot
render to him a real service for which he would be under obligation to us [
Mere love, however, without fear, as toward God, is not truthful,
for that would be only a love of familiarity as with our equal. He who is conscious
of his moral freedom, must also be conscious, as often as he makes use of this moral
freedom, that God opposes his holy power to its misuse. The feeling which springs
out of such a consciousness is not contrary
Where the love to God is true God-fearing, there it is also a
firm trusting in God. Trusting is the reverse side of this fearing. Man-fearing
is devoid of trust; God-fearing is per se also God-trusting. In relation
to all that is evil, I fear God, who will bring it to naught and me with
it; in relation to all that is good, I trust God, who will not permit me
to come to naught, but will gloriously accomplish that which I begin in his name.
God-fearing love is full of confidence in the results of its moral strivings;
because it fears God, it has no reason to fear any power that is hostile to God.
Certain of its victory, and certain that it works in God and for God, and hence
that it accomplishes divine and imperishable work, it becomes enthusiasm,
which is the highest and truest moral motive, and the only sufficient power where
there is involved a moral working for general interests
Trusting in God is faith, love, and hope at the same time; primarily,
however, it is not a result of moral self-culture. but it is simply the germ of
that threefold life that is antecedent to all actual moral life. As the awakening
consciousness of the child expresses itself in an, as yet, obscure trust to its
mother, so is it with man’s first life-relation to God. Man attains a trust not
simply through faith and through love, but faith and love are per
se, and of necessity, trust already; and hence trust is a necessary antecedent
condition of all moral life. Trust relates to the idea of an end; the mere desire
of an end is not a sufficient motive to inspire moral effort toward it; it may be
a hopeless, and hence an inactive, desire; doubting Peter sinks in the waves; it
is only an unshaken trust that confirms courage and awakens strength [
As love springs from the consciousness of the harmony of the person with his object, and as the feeling of such a harmony is the feeling of happiness, hence all love is per se also happiness, and its striving is necessarily a striving for happiness. As, however, love does not seek its own, but finds its bliss alone in that of the beloved, it is clear that this striving for happiness, as based on moral love, is in nowise self-seeking and narrow-hearted, but, on the contrary, a proper motive of moral activity,—only, however, in so far as it is in unison with the right love, and does not appear as something different from it,—not as the first and fundamental element, but only as a derived one; but it becomes an immoral motive in so far as it is an expression of mere self love (Eudemonism).—The tendency to the good, which is produced by moral activity, becomes in turn itself a higher motive to the moral.
The question as to the morality of happiness-seeking as a moral
motive, cannot be answered without a more definite characterization. The “eudemonistic” view proper, that of the Epicureans, is evidently immoral, as it rests on mere self-love.
Heathen ethics could oppose to this self-seeking happiness-principle nothing other
than the notion that virtue should be sought after for its own sake. If there was
here a seeming subordinating of the person to a general moral idea, still, because
of the inner untruthfulness of the position, it could not possibly be otherwise
than that in fact, even in the strictest Stoicism, the mere proud self-consciousness
of the individual should be, after all, the influencing motive proper. The thought
of love as the true moral motive was entirely wanting
All moral activity has necessarily a permanent result in the person
himself; it makes the moral his possession and property,—forms more and more his
moral character, and hence creates a
LOVE works the accomplishment of the lovingly-willed end; the moral motive and the accomplishing of the end belong, therefore, morally, inseparably together. The moral element lies neither exclusively in the motive, nor exclusively in the action; neither exclusively in the intention or end, nor exclusively in the means to the end, but in the unity of both. A good end does not sanctify the means, nor do good means sanctify the end, but a good end is accomplished morally only by good means; all end which actually can be realized by immoral means, is itself immoral.
As the moral is a free realizing of a rational end, the question naturally rises, wherein the moral element properly lies, namely, whether in the end and in the motive? or in the means to the end, that is, in the acts that lead to the realization of the end? or whether in both at the same time,—that is, whether we are to judge of an act exclusively from the intention, or exclusively from the action itself, or in fact from both together? The first of these queries has been answered affirmatively by the Jesuits—though this is not peculiar to them, but is involved more or less in all perverted moralizing, especially in that of worldly society at large; outside of the sphere of Christian earnestness there prevails every-where in fact a tendency to distinguish between the morality of the end and that of the means.
From the very idea of the moral it follows necessarily that the conscious end, and hence the intention, occupies with good right the chief place in determining the moral judgment, and that consequently only that action can be good which aims at a good end—one in harmony with the moral order of the world. Whatever accomplishes such an end must consequently be in harmony with the moral order of the world, and hence be itself good; when therefore the axiom: “The end sanctifies the means” is understood to mean “that the means which answer to a really good end are necessarily also good,” then it is entirely unobjectionable; it becomes false only when either the end is only seemingly good, or the means only seemingly appropriate, or where it is assumed that the means, that is, the actions, are per se morally indifferent, and receive a moral character only from the intention. As, however, all free action falls within the sphere of the moral order of the world, and as the reality that is produced by this action is either in harmony or in disharmony with this order, hence also the action, per se and irrespectively of its end, is either good or bad,—though indeed, in order to its full moral appreciation, its end also must be taken into the account. He who sets a house on fire from negligence may have had no evil intention, but he is punished nevertheless, and justly so, for his action was per se evil, and might have been avoided by him. If we suppose instead of an absolutely good end, that is, such a one as is a part of the highest good, simply particular ends, the goodness of which consists only in their subordination to the order of the whole, then the axiom: “The end sanctifies the means,” is false, in so far as the end or means do not consist with the order of the whole. He who burns down a house in order to drive the rats out of it attains indeed his end, but at the same time he destroys the super-ordinate end of the house. The question becomes difficult only when bearing upon moral action in a sinful world, in which evil, and hence the infliction of evils for punishment, for discipline and defense, has a legitimate place. But of this we can only speak further on.
Moral action, as flowing from love, may be considered from two
points of view: first, in itself, according to its inner differences, that
is, moral action as such; secondly,
As moral action always seeks to effect a harmony between the acting person and the moral object, hence it stands in relation, on the one hand, to the former as its starting-point, and, on the other, to the latter as the goal aimed at by the life-movement. This harmony can consequently be effected in a twofold manner,—either in that the object becomes for the subject, or the subject for the object, that is, either by appropriation or by formation. As, however, every entity, in so far as it is good, has a right in and of itself, hence it has such a right also as bearing upon the morally active person, so that neither the appropriating nor the forming is without some degree of limitation, but both must respect this right of the object. The two forms of moral action have therefore, as a necessary limit, a third form of moral bearing, namely, a bearing by which the moral object is preserved in its rights,—moral sparing.
This third form of the moral bearing, which, as an activity of
the will, has of course a moral character, has been very largely ignored in ethics,
or at least left in the back-ground, and it is even severely criticised in its defenders,
and yet it is a sphere of very essential duties, duties which can be classed into
other spheres only by manifest violence, and which yet consist, in fact, neither
in appropriation nor in formation.
Moral sparing is a self-limiting of personal action in the interest
of the rights of the object; the latter is neither appropriated nor formed
by the person, but simply let alone in its peculiar being and nature. The
duty of sparing rests upon the right of every natural or spiritual and historical
entity to its existence and its peculiarity, in so far as these are good, and hence
upon love to the object as being good,—consequently, in the final instance,
upon a pious world theory, upon love to God. The entity is spared because
it bears in itself the impress of the Eternal,—is an expression of the will of God;
hence sparing is moral only in so far as it relates to the good and the divine ill
existence, and not to that which by virtue of its ungodly nature should be an object
of moral hatred.—The higher the perfection of an object, so much the higher
is also its right to moral sparing; the less the perfection, the more the object
falls within the sphere of appropriation and
An indiscriminate sparing would be simply spiritual and moral sloth or indifference, and hence immoral. The sparing of the anti-godly is a sinning against God, is the withholding of moral love. An evil existence has indeed also, in so far as any good still inheres in it, a right to be spared,—only, however, in that which it has of good. The right to be spared is not, of course, in the case of finite existences, of an unlimited and unconditional character, and in the case of nature-objects it is much more limited than with personal beings, though indeed it never sinks entirely to zero. It is true, nature is destined to service under the dominion of the rational spirit, and, in so far as it reaches this destination, man has in fact a right to pass beyond the limits of mere sparing restraint, and actively to lay hold on the very existence of nature, transforming and appropriating it. Where the right of the personal spirit is not recognized, where God is conceived of as a mere nature-entity, there pious morality manifests itself in a wide-reaching sparing of natural objects, far beyond the measure of what is required of us; so is it with the Brahmins and the Buddhists; and, especially in the case of the former, this over-delicate sparing of natural objects is associated with a cruel un-sparingness toward themselves.
As the duty of sparing rests on the right of each particular being
to its own peculiarity, hence this duty as well as this right rise in scope in proportion
to the degree of the individual perfection. That which is absolutely perfect bears
the character of eternity and unchangeableness, and though it may indeed be spiritually
appropriated, yet it cannot in any respect be formed or changed. In the process
of education, the dictating influence upon the child falls into the background
While the heathen idol falls, of course, within the sphere of
human sparing, the eternal and almighty God stands beyond the scope of this activity.
Nevertheless there are sacred duties which express, in a certain sense, a sparing
of the divine; the name of God and his honor are to be held sacred; and whatever
is a symbol of the divine, or is a reminder of God’s presence, has an especial claim
to moral sparing; even uncultured tribes practice a reverential sparing in regard
to all that is sacred or stands in relation to the divine in contradistinction to
the worldly and the profane. From the simple fact of the sparing of whatever stands
in real, or even in symbolical, relation to God, it is very evident, of how great
significancy is piety for morality. The pious mind finds God’s being and providence
in all things and in all life, and whatever
Sparing is, as a non-doing, only then moral when it is a conscious
and freely-willed withholding of a real out-going action, that is, when it is an
inner activity, a moral self-controlling out of respect for another’s right,
and when it is in real harmony with moral forming and appropriating, so as not in
any manner to interfere therewith,—that is, when it is the virtualizing of the real
rights of the moral object. The formable or cultivable object has, however,
just as good a right to be formed as it has to be spared. In so far as sparing is
a mere non-influencing of the objective entity, it is not yet moral, and may even
also be evil. The spiritually indolent declines even this form of activity, not,
however, from love to the object, but from mere selfishness. Only that sparing is
morally good which rests on love to the object, and which therefore implies
a conscious self-limitation and self-controlling, and which is, consequently, only
in outer form, but not in inner essence, a mere non-doing; mere non-doing would
be per se sinful, inasmuch as the moral life must always be active, and it
is only the seeming non-doing which, however, is an inner-doing, that can be moral.
True moral sparing is, in relation to beings that are. formable and in need of formation,
uniformly also a formative influence, namely, in that it gives proper play for legitimate
self-forming on the part of the object. A tyrannical education that extends its
tutorial dictation into all the minute details, produces not a moral character but
only servile-mindedness. All right education must also practice, in the interest
of the training of moral freedom, a wise sparing,—must allow the child the possibility
of determining itself independently, and of thereby maturing itself toward moral
freedom. As the sparing of a growing plant is at the same time also a furthering
of it, so also, and even in a higher degree, is this true of sparing as exercised
toward rational
In the appropriating activity man effects his unity with the objective entity, by taking it up into himself,—by uniting it with himself, by making it an element of his own nature. This moral activity differs both in regard to what element of the object is appropriated by the actor, and in regard to how this takes place.
(a) According to what element of the object is appropriated, the appropriating is either natural or spiritual; the latter is the more comprehensive, and extends itself to all objective existence,—also to God.—Natural appropriation relates as well to the existence and preservation of the individual person as to the existence and preservation of the species, and is the necessary condition of both. In both respects, therefore, man is bound to nature and stimulated by natural instinct, and although in this respect he is freer than the brute, and all the freer the higher his personality is developed, nevertheless in respect to the preservation of the existence of the subject, this freedom is still always of a limited character, and the law of nature is, in many respects, stronger than the will, though, however, not so potent as to force the will to the immoral.
All natural existence is at the same time also of spiritual significance,—is
a realized thought, the expression of an idea. But as, on the other hand, not every
spiritual entity is connected
In natural appropriation there is manifested a real and normal
limitation of free self-determination. When hunger predominates, the spiritual forces
subside, and at last it becomes even mightier than the free determinations of the
will. Nevertheless this power of nature over the will is neither unlimited nor absolutely
definitive, but the moral will is capable of asserting its autonomy against it.
It may indeed enfeeble the bodily force and therewith also the spiritual, but it
cannot absolutely determine the will. Christ cried out indeed on the cross: “I thirst;”
but when hungering in the desert he resisted the temptation. The fact that from
grief or despair persons have starved themselves to death, proves at least that
the will is capable of being stronger than nature, even under its most overpowering
phases. He who in the last desperation of famine lays hold on human life to satiate
his hunger [
Natural appropriating per se is not yet a moral activity,
but it is extra-moral, and therefore when it appears in and of itself as the substance
and chief-end of life, it is immoral. It becomes morally good only when it is the
expression of an under-lying spiritual appropriating, that is, when it does
not rest on mere sensuous impulse, but on conscious love, not so much to the sensuous
object per se as rather to God who
There is per se forbidden to man, irrespective of his sinfulness,
no natural temperate sensuous appropriating; this is plainly seen in the account
of Paradise and in the example and deed of Christ at the wedding of Cana. Thankfulness
to God sanctifies even the sensuous appropriation of his gifts [
The observing of moderation in natural appropriation, the regarding it as a mere means to the rational end of preserving the individual as well as the species, is not merely a moral preserving of the person but also of the object,—is a doing of justice toward the object. He who is temperate simply, e. g., in order not to injure his health, is not yet moral, but only self-seeking. Appropriation finds its measure in the moral duty of sparing. All natural appropriating is more or less a destroying of the objective entity; and, as the latter has per se a right to sparing, it follows that the limit of appropriation is not a merely subjective one. The nightingale-tongue pies of the Roman epicures are not mentioned with detestation simply because they are a mere immoderation, but because they involved an injustice against the right of nature to be spared. And many modern table-luxuries are not of a much more innocent character.
In sexual appropriation the moral is conditioned not merely,
as in the use of natural objects, on thankful love to God as the giver, but—inasmuch
as the object appropriated is itself a moral personality—also on personal love
to the same. Without this love the person of the object would be treated as a mere
impersonality, as a mere nature-object, and its validity as a personal moral spirit
ignored. Upon this moral recognition of the personality Scripture lays great emphasis.
“Adam knew Eve, his wife;” the same expression (יָדַע)
is very frequently used of wedlock communion, also on the part of the woman [
Sexual appropriation also is in part a destruction, a despoiling of the person, which finds a compensation only in the fact that the one person belongs to the other as an inalienable possession—that both persons are united to an indissoluble life in common. Hence the commerce of the sexes without marriage is self-profanation; and virginity is esteemed among all, not absolutely barbarous nations as an inviolable treasure to which only that one has a right who is united in his whole personality to the person of the virgin. And even within the limits of marriage each party has a right to sparing, and should not be degraded into a mere object of sensuous pleasure; also here there is a measure that is conditioned on the end, and the transgressing of which is a dishonoring, a degrading. of the consort.
2.—Spiritual appropriation relates to all objective existence, nature included, and takes up the spiritual contents thereof into the being of the self-conscious subject,—makes it its personal possession. The moral subject enlarges thus its own spiritual being,—receives the universe as well as God into itself,—forms for itself an inner world which, as a copy of the real world, realizes under its subjective phase the moral end, namely, the effecting of the harmony of existence.
In spiritual appropriation, as the far richer field of this activity,
the appropriated object is in no wise destroyed, but on the contrary preserved,
nay, brought to its higher truth, namely, in that its spiritual contents not only
exist per se, but also exist for the spirit, and have now in the spirit
a continued existence even after the object itself outwardly perishes. That which
has become a part of history and science has thereby attained to imperishableness.
That which externally perishes, the natural existence, is the inferior, the less
essential; that which is capable of becoming a possession of the
(b) The difference of spiritual appropriation in respect
to how it takes place, appears, on the one hand, in this, that the appropriating
person is active as a rational spirit in general,—as at one with all other rational
spirits, and hence in such a manner as that the appropriation might be made in like
manner by any other spirit,—general appropriation; and, on the other, in
this, that the person is active as a single
All learning is spiritual appropriating, but not all spiritual
appropriating is general; we here consider spiritual appropriation under another
phase than in the preceding section. Where the love of sensuous enjoyment prevails
to a sinful extent, there the love of truth declines. The desire of knowledge is
a characteristic of the moral spirit. Man, as called to dominion over nature, is
also called to the spiritual appropriating of the same, and of all existence. The
striving after truth is a seal of man’s God-likeness. Even as to God every thing
is open, and all truth is known, so also is man only then truly a spirit when he
strives after truth and seeks cognoscitively to appropriate to himself all
things. This is a legitimate striving after possession,—after the possession of
an inner world, a true copy of the real one; and it is among the most essential
sources of the bliss of the perfected, that they know the truth and constantly appropriate
to themselves cognoscitively more of it. The acquiring of the truth is a becoming
All true knowing is of such a nature that every other rational
spirit can and must know in precisely the same manner, and hence has a significance
beyond the possession of the individual,—is general appropriation. Hence, as moral,
it is also directly connected with a tendency to make that which is appropriated
by the individual person a general possession of all rational beings. The
moral man cannot wish to retain the truth for himself alone, but the truth which
has become his possession impels him, by virtue of its general character, freely
to communicate it to others [
(2). Particular (individual) appropriating is enjoying.
Here the object exists solely for me in so far as I am an individual being,—becomes
my special possession. In enjoyment I do not, as in cognizing, have the object purely
as such, but I have it as it stands in accord with my peculiarity, as it has become
an element of my own being. In enjoyment I have, therefore, always also myself
as in some way affected by the object; hence the sphere of enjoyment is essentially
In learning, or cognizing, I throw into the back-ground my isolated
individuality,—let the truth, as general, rule over me; my mere isolated being has
no validity; in enjoying, on the contrary, I come with my separate individuality
into the fore-ground; the object per se has no validity; in learning I have
myself only as a member of the whole, but in enjoying I have myself as an individuality
distinct from the whole. Hence enjoyment, as of such and such a form, is not communicable;
de gustibus non est disputandum. Whatever one rational
person cognizes as true, that must be cognized by all as true; but that which is
an enjoyment for one is not necessarily
Christian morality begrudges not enjoyment to man, not even the
sensuous, for “the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof” [
The communication of enjoyment,—a constituent element of its morality,—springs
not from the essence of the same, but from love to man in general. It can only take
place in so far as thereby the essence of the enjoyment is not affected; the enjoyment
that lies in the family-life can never be made a common possession; and the fact
that in the case of a few rude tribes, hospitality is extended to a communicating
even of marital rights,
Moral forming works the harmony of existence, in that thereby man impresses upon objective existence the peculiarity of his own spirit,—makes it an expression thereof, that is, spiritually shapes it. The object is destroyed not in its existence, but only in its isolation and peculiarity,—receives the peculiarity of the acting spirit, is imbued with, and thus bound to, it. Forming is morally good not when it is an impressing of the merely individual and as yet not morally-rational spirit upon the object (for this would be injustice to the object, a non-sparing of its legitimate being), but when it is an impressing of the spirit as moral, as rational and as in harmony with God, that is, when the object itself is formed toward a complete harmony with the morally-rational collective spirit. Moral forming must therefore always be associated with moral sparing, and all the more so the higher the spiritual significance and worth of the object that is to be formed. As related to the moral spirit, therefore, all moral forming is an educating, which latter is never an absolutely all-determining forming, but a forming that respects the rights of the personality that is to be formed.
The outward-going formative activity can neither be arbitrary
and purposeless, nor a mere destroying of that which exists, but must have a rational
end and a right of its own. In view of the wants of the moral activity, therefore,
created existence cannot be, primarily, at once and definitively completed
and perfected, though indeed it is good, but it stands in the presence of the activity
of the rational spirit as formable material to which man, as active, has a right,
and the final completion of
Forming, as compared to sparing and appropriating, appears at
once as the higher, and generally more difficult, form of activity; sparing is a
mere checking of the outward-going activity; appropriating, according to its kind,
either annihilates the objective existence, or leaves its substance untouched; but
forming interferes positively with the existence and peculiarity of the object.
There is need here, on the one hand, of a considerate respecting of the right
of the object to its own peculiarity, so that the forming may not become an unjust
perverting and destroying, and, on the other hand, of a proper and clear consciousness
of the rational purpose of the transforming. Appropriating begins earlier in the
spiritual development of man than forming; the latter always presupposes some degree
of moral maturity; forming as exercised by an immature spirit is a destroying. The
formative activity of the child appears as a rending-asunder of whatever falls into
its hand; the historical activity of savage or half-civilized tribes, bears also
this childish character. Unripe youth have also, as relating to society and the
state and to historical reality
Moral forming differs likewise in two respects. (a) According to that which is formed in the object, it is either a sensuously-natural or a spiritual forming.—1. Natural forming is a shaping of nature-material for the human spirit by virtue of the mastery of the spirit over nature, to the end either of practical utility or of a manifesting of spirit in art-work. Nature, as created, is indeed per se good and perfect, but it becomes a true home for, a true organ of, the spirit and of history, only by becoming imbued with spirit. Natural forming is moral and rational only in so far as it is the sensuous expressing of a spiritual forming.
All dominating is necessarily a forming, inasmuch as the dominated
is more or less an expression of the will of the dominating power. A natural entity
can bear this expression only in virtue of being shaped by man and at the same time
for man. In natural forming the difference between man, as a moral creature, and
the brute, becomes at once plainly visible. The activity of the brute is predominantly
a sensuous appropriating; that of man is predominantly a forming, and indeed primarily
a sensuously-natural forming. The appropriating of nature is primarily permitted
by God to man, and is limited by a prohibition only in one respect; the forming
of nature is enjoined upon him [
Spiritual forming relates to the spiritual essence of the object, and hence predominantly to the conscious spirit; it is a communicating of the spiritual possession of the subject to the object, a shaping of the object according to the rational idea of the subject, a putting of the former into harmony with the moral person of the latter. Each man has the duty of helping spiritually to form every other one who comes into spiritual relation with him, that is, of communicating to him his own moral nature, of revealing himself to him; this holds good even of the as yet morally immature in relation to the morally mature. All morally-spiritual communicating is a forming, and all spiritual forming is a communicating. Communicating is, however, only then a moral forming, when the communicating spirit itself stands in harmony with God, is itself morally good, and when its motive is love.
Also spiritual forming extends in a certain sense to nature-objects, in so far as these are not a mere sensuous existence, but have also spiritual contents. The training and ennobling of domestic animals is not a sensuous but a relatively-spiritual forming, inasmuch as their inner nature is raised to a higher plane. The chief sphere of spiritual forming is, however, the personal spirit. Man has neither the right nor the liberty to develop himself as a mere isolated individual,—he cannot develop himself morally save when in spiritual life-relation with the moral community; and each stands with every other in such a moral relation. And this relation is a mutual forming and appropriating, at the same time. Man is formed only by appropriating to himself spiritual elements, that is, in that another spirit reveals itself to him. Forming cannot take place morally by the imbuing of thoughts and sentiments that are foreign to the subject himself into the spirit that is to be educated, for this would be deception, and would not establish a spiritual communion; it can be done only by a self-revelation of the moral spirit. Only the morally-formed spirit can itself form; the immoral spirit can only pervert, and can do this successfully only when it affects morality. However, it is not necessary that the formative spirit should be already mature; also the child exerts a formative influence upon its elders.—In the condition of sinlessness the formative activity has no need of art or of a calculated plan; mere self-manifestation exercises a formative influence directly and of itself. All artfully-planned manners of influencing are evidence of lost purity, and cannot, however cunningly contrived, exert the power of the moral reality. The moral spirit lets its light shine before men that they may see its good works, and this light directly illumines and enlightens the spirit of others. This self-revelation, however, would be immoral, that is, hollow and empty, were it to spring from self-complacency instead of from love to others. It is love alone that divests this letting one’s light shine of an appearance of parade. Loving souls hide themselves not from each other; true love impels to a full and genuine self-communication; and moral love has nothing that it would gladly or necessarily conceal.
(b) According to the manner in which the objective entity is formatively influenced, we have to distinguish between particular and general forming.
1. Particular forming forms single objects for the service of the earthly wants of single or several persons, that is, for use for temporal ends. It is therefore labor, in the proper and narrower sense of the word. Labor relates not merely to natural matter, but also to the individual spirit, in so far as the latter is to be formed for the temporal earthly life, and hence is spiritual as well as natural forming.
All utility relates to the particular; that which is for the common
utility is simply that which is useful for many particular persons. When the Rationalistic
school spoke of the “common utility” of religion, it manifested simply very bad
taste; religion is thus placed on a par, e. g., with a public fountain or
an advertising sheet. Labor concerns the individual; works for the common utility,
such as roads or canals, look not to the good of humanity as a whole, as a unity,
but to the many individual persons whom they are to benefit; for him who does not
use them, they have no significancy and are perhaps even offensive. Their utility
and enjoyment fall to the individual as such, but not in virtue of his being a man,
a rational spirit. In a work of art, however, one has pleasure precisely in his
character of rational spirituality; although from another stand-point this work
is of no “use” to him whatever. That which is to exalt the heart must be
more than labor. Products of labor may indeed excite a general and rational interest,
as, for example, a machine or other superior fruits of skill; here, however, it
is not the work itself that is admired, but the art to which the handicraft
has been exalted,—the spiritual power of invention, that is, the power of spirit,—not
the utility, but the beauty or ingenuity,—not the merely individual element, but
the spiritual, which, as such, bears upon itself the stamp of general significancy
Labor is not mere manual toil. Common usage is perfectly right
when it speaks also, and not merely in the stricter sense of the word, of spiritual,
intellectual, labor, and of intellectual laborers, in distinction from a higher
spiritual and intellectual activity. The highest results to which the spirit can
attain are not effected by labor; the delicate, etherial image which delights
our astonished gaze was not painfully wrought out by the sweat of the multitude,
but sprang forth at once from the brain of genius; but, as distinguished from this
ideal activity of the spirit, there is another which is entitled to be called work
in the strict sense of the word, and which consists in a strictly-particular forming.
All spiritual activity which looks to the mere benefit of individuals is labor;
thus, we speak of the labor of pupils, of official labors, etc. The pupil labors
in order, by the appropriation of particular scientific material, to form himself
as an individual for a calling in life; the teacher labors upon the pupil for the
same end. All spiritual forming which looks to success in the world, to obtaining
a position in it, is labor; hence also we may speak of a scientific industry; there
is an immense difference between science as manual labor, and science as an art.
When the learner, however, elevates himself to a more ideal activity,—when, inspired
with enthusiasm for the true
2. General forming forms the object for a general, that
is, a rational end,—not merely for a particular need, for temporal utility. but
for the rational and moral spirit in general,—forms it for rational enjoyment, for
moral approbation, i. e. into a beautiful and good product,—is
artistic forming, in the largest sense of the word. It may be a sensuous
as well as a spiritual forming. The natural entity receives a spiritual form,—becomes
an expression, an image, of the rational spirit, an expression of harmony in general,—a
work of art. The spiritual entity is formed into an essentially God-answering, truly
rational character, into a beautiful soul, into a child of God. Religious
and ideal culture in general differs essentially from education for a worldly calling,—aims
not to make man into a “useful” and serviceable being, but into one in whom both
God and men have pleasure,
The fruit which is aimed at in mere work is only for the benefit
of the individual; works of art, and the beautiful and good in general, are for
the spiritual enjoyment of rational man as such. Also the angels must rejoice in
heaven, not only over a sinner who repents, but also over all that is truly beautiful.
Man forms himself into a useful, a skillful, a learned member of society by labor
and pains-taking, but into a beautiful soul only by enthusiasm; this is indeed not
the beautiful soul as improvised by sentimental novelists, but the soul that is
beautiful in the eyes of God and of all of God’s children,—the child-soul of a child
of God, full of love and enthusiasm,—the soul of him who is pure of heart, and which
inwardly beholds God, because God looks upon it with pleasure. Hence the Scriptures
look upon the higher artistic endowment as a special gift from God [
Art in its deepest ground and essence is religious, as
in fact
General moral forming does not necessarily take place directly and immediately; as relating to the free spirit, it consists essentially in the fact that, by the moral activity of the subject, the object is so incited and inspired as to bring about self-development through his own spontaneity and strength. In this consists the true art of education and governing, namely, in that the guiding power hides itself in some respect from the spirit that is to be molded,—does not permit its influence upon it to appear as a limiting, overpowering force, but rather simply gives scope for free and independent self-development. This does not take place, however, by a simple “letting alone” of the one who is to be guided, but by the fact that the moral and rational consciousness is quickened and strengthened in him,—that he is brought to feel and know himself, not as a mere non-obligated individual, but as a personality inspired by a holy and moral spirit,—that a moral disposition and an ideal enthusiasm become in him an actuating power, which in turn itself forms him to a higher development and perfection.
There is an important sphere of moral activity, namely, symbolical
forming—to which belongs also the practicing of the becoming,—which can
be understood only from the stand-point of general artistic forming;—a sphere of
stumbling and offense to all champions of the merely prosaically useful. The morally-good,
is not simply to become real, but the real is also to be an expression, a
manifestation of the morally-good,—is to bear witness in its entire outward appearance
to an inner ideal quality, and every single good is to show itself not merely as
per se good, but is also to point to a higher good beyond itself. Even as
in nature, the good, as a regulated means to an end, is associated with a beauty
more significant than the mere fitness for an end,—even as the flower not merely
possesses the fructifying organs and the delicate tissues that protect them, but
also, in its graceful form, its hues and its fragrance, delights man, and, as a
symbol of the eternally beautiful, reminds him of divine love and of the glory of
God,
The becoming is the outward, beautiful or symbolical form
of the moral,—in a certain sense its esthetic phase. To celebrate the Lord’s day
in the spiritual-exalting of the heart to God, is a moral duty; to give expression
to the celebration by sacred art and by a worthy outward appearance, is becoming.
The ungodly world is prone to substitute in the place of the moral substance an
outwardly and externally gracious form—the becoming; the suggestion: “That is not
becoming,” is with the irreligious world of much more weight than: “It is sinful.”
The outward form may indeed be hypocritically assumed in the absence of the substance,
but he who holds fast to the moral substance, must observe also the form; he only
is morally-cultured who not only observes the substance of the general precepts,
but also aims at the morally-becoming; and this is in fact a general and artistic
forming on the part of the moral activity. The becoming stands not along-side of
the moral precept, but is essentially contained in it, as, in fact, without it man
remains coarse and rude. Almost all of the above-mentioned precepts of the Old Testament
are precepts of the becoming, and the New Testament also lays great stress on the
becoming [
Appropriating and forming are, in a right moral development, ever in association with each other, and that too all the closer the higher their character. No spiritual appropriating is without spiritual self-forming, and no forming of an objective entity is without a spiritual appropriating of the thing formed; and in fact the forming of one’s own spirit is per se necessarily an appropriating. The measure of appropriating and especially of enjoying stands in all right development, always in strict relation to the measure of the forming; and the two modes of forming are associated not only with each other, but also with the two modes of appropriating, as are in turn the latter with each other.
The fruit of labor and still more the work of art, are the property of the laborer and the artist; they call it their own; they have appropriated it to themselves in the very process of producing it. The outward-directed activity turns thus about and flows back into the acting person. In forming an objective entity, man forms his own self; he has the work not merely as his own, as a copy of his thought, but he is also himself spiritually and morally promoted both by the working and by the work. All forming is self-forming; and inasmuch as man stands to his fellows in a spiritual relation,—reveals himself to them through his culture,—hence all self-forming is directly also in turn a forming of others.—All particular forming, all work, should as moral include in itself also at the same time an element of general forming; without this the laborer falls into spiritual and moral deterioration. When the laborer unites the useful with the beautiful,—gives to his work a graceful form,—when song accompanies the work, when the heart mounts up from the work that serves a temporal end, toward the Eternal One, and thus puts into earnest practice the precept: “Pray and labor,” then the particular forming is exalted and transfigured by the general. The more isolated, the more limited, the work is, so much the more preponderates the merely useful phase of it; hence no work is so dangerous, nay, so detrimental, to the harmoniously-moral culture of man as the spiritless mechanism of factory-work; and white slavery works here often much more ruinously than the black. The uninterrupted monotony of the narrow routine of the work paralyzes the spirit and subverts morality.
Furthermore, all forming is not only a general appropriating,
formative of the subject himself, in that he recognizes the product of his influence,
but also a particular appropriating, in that he enjoys it. The divine prototype
of this is seen in the account of creation, where we read that God looked upon all
that he had made, and found that it was very good. All moral work, and still more,
all general forming, are, in and of themselves, also enjoyment, and that too the
highest and purest enjoyment, even as in the above utterance of the Creator his
own bliss was implicitly expressed also. But also the sensuous enjoyment that is
not directly included
Inasmuch as man becomes perfect only through the perfect all-sided development of all his life-phases, and as ally exclusive realization and culture of one, or simply some, of them works a disturbance of the inner harmony, hence every person should, in so far as his circumstances admit of it, realize every form of moral appropriation and moral culture. He who allows his life to be devoted exclusively to particular forming and appropriating,—to toil and enjoyment, has fallen out of moral harmony, and is consequently immoral. General, and hence, essentially, religious, forming must attend the work hand in hand; and the ordination of the Sabbath along-side of the days of labor has not simply a religious, but essentially also a moral significancy. Moral resting from labor is a rising to ideal self-culture, an exalting of the temporally-particular into the eternal, the holy, the general, the divine; the celebrating of the Sabbath is the higher and moral transfiguring of the temporal prosaic individual life by the poesy of the ideal and the infinite.
In particular forming man merges himself into objective existence;
primarily he has not the object in his own possession, but the object possesses
him; hence the danger, especially in a state of sinfulness, that the person lose
himself in his labor,—that, as in sensuous enjoyment, he passively surrender himself
to the creature [
From the fact that all moral working is attended also with a general forming, it follows manifestly that, for him who is truly morally free, the antithesis of Sabbath-rest and labor is not of an absolute character,—that every day and all labor have also their Sabbath consecration, and that, on the other hand, also the Sabbath does not absolutely exclude all work. It is perfectly clear, however, that, in general, only such works consist with the observance of the Sabbath as express a general formative activity,—as bear an artistic character in the noblest sense of the word. In this category belong those healings of the sick by which the Lord incurred the reproach of Sabbath-breaking. Such works are not labor, but, as a restoring of the disturbed order of the universe, ate of general and spiritual significancy.
As God sustains to man an essentially active and creative, but not a receptive, relation, hence in the strict sense of the word he is an object only of moral appropriating.
(a) The moral appropriating of God is directly at
the same time also the highest moral self-forming of the moral person, and contains
two necessarily associated
As believing is essentially the particular appropriating of God, so the knowing, the cognizing of Him is the general appropriating; and hence the striving for this knowledge is a high moral duty; this duty is fulfilled not without believing, but only through and in virtue of the same,—is a spiritual receiving and a true appropriating of the divine revelation imparted to us through the channel of faith, in regard to the nature, power, and will of God. The correct knowledge of God is not the antecedent condition, but the goal of the moral striving, and hence without it there can be no perfection of morality.
God is indeed per se already present in every creature;
but in order that he shall be truly present for man, that is, in a manner
called for by his rational nature, it is necessary that man shall freely appropriate
to himself this presence of God. I possess rationally only that which I rationally
and morally appropriate. All appropriating, and hence all faith, pre-supposes
“Faith is the substance (the sure confidence) of things hoped
for, the evidence of things not seen” [
As particular appropriating, believing or faith is, so to speak,
an enjoying of the divine,—belongs essentially to the personality itself, and is
therefore not communicable, whereas knowing may, on the presupposition of faith,
be communicated by instruction. In the entire sphere of the religious life, believing
precedes knowing, for without faith God would no more exist for us than would sensuous
objects without our senses; believing includes, it is true, some degree of knowing,
but is not per se complete knowing. And for the simple reason that believing
includes knowing as an essential element, it is a moral requirement to bring our
knowing to its highest possible perfection, and thereby also to heighten and strengthen
faith. The divine revelation as received by faith becomes real knowledge by a proper
spiritual merging of ourselves into it, by a full appropriating of its contents
into our entire spiritually-transformed being, so that the knowing becomes thus
a powerful moral motive to the loving of God and to obedience to his will [
The second phase of the moral appropriating of God is, that man becomes for God,—that he exalts himself toward God by a moral act in order to unite God actually, and not simply in inner recognition, with himself,—in order to permit the divine activity to be influential upon him; this is in fact the worshiping of God, which is at once a religious and a moral, and hence a holy, activity. The worship of God is either purely spiritual and at the same time affirmative, namely, in that man puts himself spiritually into direct relation with God,—rises to God in pious devotion, which is prayer,—or it is of a rather virtual and at the same time more negative character, namely, a free moral turning away from the ungodly and the unholy,—sacrifice. These two phases of the worshiping of God belong inseparably together; there is no prayer without sacrifice, and no sacrifice without prayer.
Faith is the purely inward phase of the moral appropriating of the divine,—the woman-like self-opening of the soul for the in-shining of the divine light; in this receiving, the person remains strictly in and with himself. Worshiping is more objective; the person goes forth out of himself,—lets his own light beam forth toward the divine original light, even as the flame of the sacrifice, when once kindled by the heavenly fire, mounts up toward heaven again. All worshiping of God presupposes faith, though it is itself more than faith. When man has by faith received the divine into himself, and imbued himself therewith, he still yet distinguishes himself as a creature from God,—puts himself into moral relation to God, raises himself by a moral action to God as to one different from himself; and this is the worshiping of God. To the pure mystic all worship falls away, for he loses sight of the distinction between the Infinite and the finite.
Worship is the immediate actual outgoing of faith; it is a religious activity which aims at making the already naturally-existing communion of God with us into a consciously-willed communion of ourselves with God; it is a sacred activity as distinguished from the worldly or profane,—from that which deals only with temporal things. In a normal moral condition of humanity, all activity whatever would bear a sacred character, and the distinction between the sacred and the “profane” could only assume the form of a conditional outward difference of a temporally-alternating occupation with earthly things, on the one hand, and with eternal interests on the other; with labor and with the Sabbath-rest of the soul during the continuance of the earthly life, and that, too, only in so far as consistent with the fact that all earthly occupation is constantly exalted and sanctified by a positive and conscious relation to the eternal. Our sacred activity relates either immediately to God,—is a purely affirmative uniting of the human to the divine; or it relates only mediately to God, but immediately to the ungodly, namely, in that by refusing the ungodly, it sets up a barrier against it,—turns the heart away from the evil, and toward God. These two features can never be separated; prayer without sacrifice, without a rejecting of the ungodly both within and without us, is morally impossible; in exalting ourselves to God in prayer we at the same time distinguish the divine from the anti-divine, and withdraw ourselves from the latter; we cannot truly pray without at the same time renouncing the worldly,—without giving up, without sacrificing, the pretentious emptiness of finite things.
1. Prayer, as resting on faith in the personal God, is
the free moral uniting of the believing heart with God, in such a manner that the
moral personality is in fact not lost, but, on the contrary, exalted in and by God;
it is the free and conscious recognizing that God knows all our thoughts, and the
joyful wish that such be the case; it exalts our natural communion with God into
a spiritual and moral one, the being
In prayer man enters into personal communion with God, and in
loving confidence expressly communicates to him as the All-knowing One, his pious
thinking, feeling, and willing; only that which is pious can be communicated to
God; a consciously unpious prayer is blasphemy. Prayer is absolutely conditioned
on a believing recognition of the divine omniscience; it is not, therefore, so much
a means of making our thoughts known to God,—for God knows our thoughts from afar,
and of what we have need before we ask therefor,—as rather an expression of our
belief that God knows, and our joyful willingness that he should know thereof. A
prayer that should spring from the thought that God himself needed it in order to
know our inward state, would be per se impious and in self-contradiction;
but every thought and every act that we are not willing that God should know, and
that we would hide from him, is impious, and the degree of our piety is measured
by the degree in which we have the desire that all our acts and thoughts should
be known of God. The intermission of prayer does not shut out our inner life from
the divine knowledge, it simply shuts out the divine blessing from us. Prayer reveals
not our being to the divine knowledge, but it reveals the divine all-knowing presence
to us,—brings not God down to us, but elevates us to God; it is for us the
means of uniting ourselves truly with God, inasmuch as thereby not only is God,
as the Omnipresent One, with us, but also we, by a religiously-moral act
of will, are with God; and
In prayer, man gives utterance to his highest moral privileges
and to his free personality, inasmuch as thereby, with full and joyful freedom,
he wills, recognizes and heightens that which already existed without prayer, though
indeed only in an immediate, natural ante-moral manner, but which could not so remain
without turning into antagonism and unblessedness, namely, the divine omnipresent
domination. Only to those who desire it is God’s presence a blessing, and only by
those who love is the loving communion of God experienced; “draw nigh to God, and
he will draw nigh to you” [
Prayer is so intimately connected with the morally-religious life
that it appears, under some form, even among those nations where, because of the
relative ignoring of the personality of God, it has almost lost all shadow of meaning,
as, for example, in India. Greek and Roman philosophers often introduce their disquisitions
with prayers (Socrates, Plato); the Romans prayed on occasion of all important state-events,
on the election of magistrates, the enactment of laws, etc. Of course in heathen
prayer there could never exist the proper earnestness, inasmuch as the idea of God
was always imperfect; no heathen could ever pray as could a pious Israelite. The
first real opposing of prayer, if we except the frivolous Epicureans, was on the
part of Maximus of Tyre, a Platonist of the second century after Christ; it was
also opposed by Rousseau, though for very superficial reasons (because the order
of the universe could not be changed by individual wishes), and, with astonishing
lack of insight by Kant, who even finds in the Lord’s Prayer, as given by
Christ, a very clear suggestion to substitute in the place of all prayer simply
a determination to lead a good life (Relig. innerh., etc., 1794, p. 302).
In Pantheism the rejection of prayer as absurd, is a matter of course.—The Scriptures
present prayer as one of the most essential moral requirements [
It is not as a merely moral, but as a religious, activity that
prayer leads to communion, for religion is essentially socializing, not directly,
however, but in virtue of the communion which it establishes with God. Mere individual
prayer has its proper justification as bearing on the personal relation to God;
it is in fact the primary and most obvious form [
All prayer is primarily, either expressly or in virtue of its
necessary presuppositions, a confession, a recognition of God as the unconditional
Lord, and as the all-knowing, all powerful and all-loving Father. In as far as in
it we are always conscious of ourselves as loved by God, prayer is at the same time
also thanksgiving. In so far as in prayer we have respect
Prayer is per se a recognition of God,—it is adoration
and confession both to God as the all-ruling One, and also before
God as the all-knowing and holy One. In this recognizing confession itself, there
is involved a thanksgiving, which consequently is included, though it may be but
implicitly, in every prayer; in the Lord’s Prayer it lies in the very address. All
thanksgiving [
Prayer as petition is the profoundest enigma for the merely wordly
finitely-occupied understanding; for the religious heart, however, it is the beginning
and the center of the spiritual life. He who cannot offer petitions to God is not
of God. All intellectual doubts as to the nature and efficacy of petitioning prayer,
have as their back-ground a doubt of the personality of God, although they may assume
to be a vindication of the eternal order of the world. A God who cannot answer petitions
is not a personal spirit, but only an unconscious nature-force. In the believing
petition the Scriptures promise answers [
As God’s eternal decree to answer prayer is conditioned on the actuality of the prayer, hence prayer is not simply moral appropriation, but also, though not in a direct and strict sense, moral forming, seeing that, though indeed not God himself, yet in fact the particular temporal manifestation of his world-government, is conditioned on prayer. God’s essence is indeed not subject to change; his doing and acting in the world, however, are, in virtue of his righteous love, conditioned on the free conduct of his rational creatures, and hence also on prayer. The real forming, however, which is directly connected with prayer relates to the personal religiously-moral being of the subject. The blessing efficacy of prayer beams back from God upon the offerer, namely, in that in virtue of the prayer not only his being in God comes more vividly to his consciousness, and has a more efficacious influence, but also God’s being in him comes to a higher reality. Faith in prayer and in the answering of prayer, heighten the divine life of the children of God.
2. The negating and rather virtual phase of the service of God,
is the actual or symbolical manifesting of the real or conditional vanity of earthly
things and relations, as contrasted with God or with the God-loving, pious state
of the heart, namely, in sacrifice, the essence of which is self-denial or
renunciation. In the unfallen state of man sacrifice consists essentially simply
in a free giving-up of that which is naturally pleasurable, out of regard to the
divine will and far the sake of the higher good, the moral end;
As contrasted with the highest good and with God, every thing
finite appears as relatively empty and void; the actual manifesting of this nullity,
out of love to the divine, is sacrifice,—a notion that is fundamental to all religions,
and that constitutes the focal point of all religious life, and which is still recognizable
even in the most utter perversions of the truth.
It is the antagonism of the spirit to the flesh that lies at the
basis of sacrifice; in the interest of the spiritual, the spirit sacrifices the
fleshly. Also man as normal and not yet sinful, had to crucify his flesh with the
affections and lusts thereof [
In the idea of sacrifice it is always implied that that which the person gives up is per se good and right, that primarily lie has a right to its enjoyment, but that he gives it up for the sake of a higher end; to give up that which is per se bad, is not to sacrifice; the offering that was presented to Jehovah had to be pure and spotless; and the worth of the sacrifice rises with the worth of the object offered. Thus, sensuous enjoyment is per se good, but it must be restrained and limited, and often refused, in order that not it but the rational spirit may be the master. But man has also to bring, in the interest of the moral, purely spiritual sacrifices. It was not the sensuous per se that was the temptation to Eve, but the representation made to her that the tree would render her “wise;” it was her duty, as it is the duty of man in general, to renounce the desire of obtaining from the creature that wisdom which only God can impart—which can be learned only in believing obedience to God.
The sacrifice that was required of unfallen man implied in its
renunciation at the same time, a confession, namely, to God as the highest good
and the highest love, and this again implied thankfulness for the love received
in communion with God. Inasmuch as every good gift is from God hence the thank-offering
of the believer can only be symbolical, expressive of his readiness to give up in
the interest of the eternal even that which is dearest of all to him, in the consciousness
that in the communion with God
Sacrifice appears in the Old Testament in its more definite form
as early as in the case of Cain and Abel; we find no indication of its express institution
by God; and we might therefore regard it as an immediate and natural expression
of the religious consciousness; however, a positive divine prescription is the more
probable. It is certainly not probable that sacrifice was first made from a consciousness
of guilt; the offerings of Cain and Abel, consisting of the products of the field
and of the flock, seem rather to be thank-offerings than sin-offerings; Abel’s bloody
offering is expressly designated [
The moral sparing of the divine, has direct reference not to God himself; but to the forms under which He is revealed. Every thing whereby God becomes for us is sacred as distinguished from merely created objects per se. In the unfallen state of humanity all created objects are at the same time also sacred, namely, in so far as they are considered an expression of the divine will; and whatever is sacred is in the highest degree an object of moral sparing,—should be treated as sacred. This sparing springs from moral humility,—is an express respecting of the sacred in virtue of a holy awe, springing from a lively consciousness, on the one hand, of the divine glory even in the humbler forms of its manifestation, and, on the other, of our own existence as a limited one and as resting solely on divine grace. The objects of this sacred awe, and hence of moral sparing, are both the immediate, full and actual self-revelations of God, and also all mediating instrumentalities of His revelation and communication, as well as also every thing that relates to the reverencing of God on the part of man.
The distinction between the sacred and the non-sacred is, for
the unfallen state, of a merely conditional character; it is in fact, simply the
same thing considered under two phases; in all things we can behold both the created
and the Creator. He who is truly pious sees himself every-where surrounded by the
sacred,—he prays to God not merely in the
The objects of this sparing are: (1) The immediate personal
revelations of God himself. Here there is no room for a mere passive bearing; here
the mere non-doing, the mere not respecting the divine presence, is an offending
of God himself; and moral sparing passes over at once into adoring reverence; here
the declaration of Christ holds good: “He that is not for me is against me;” the not-concerning ourselves about God is a dishonoring of God.—(2) God’s revelation
and self-communication through his Word should be recognized as absolutely
sacred, and distinguished in every respect from whatever is merely human and natural;
it is disesteemed and dishonored by doubt, unbelief, and disobedience, and by trifling
or irreverent use, by ridicule or neglect; the divine Word as sacred is to be treated
entirely differently from the merely human; it calls for unconditional faith and
reverent submission.—(3) The name of God [
Note. God cannot of course be an object of moral forming
in the strict sense of the word. Though prayer is in fact a moral influencing of
God, inasmuch as it finds hearing, still no change is thereby wrought in God, and
that which is realized by the efficacy of prayer is not so much in God as in us
and in the world. But in a remote sense we may speak of a forming of the divine,
namely, in so far as God is expressed in sacred symbols and in sacred art, and in
so far as, by our witnessings for God, the knowledge and love of God are implanted
(a) The duty of moral sparing is here the preserving of one’s own existence and of its normal peculiarity and development, as prompted by a consciousness of the divine will, and hence also the warding off of all therewith-conflicting and disturbing or destroying influences on the part of nature or of the spiritual world. To this end it is necessary that in all things the true relation of the body, as a serving power, to the rational spirit, as the dominating power, be preserved, and that the image of God, which though originally inherent in man. is yet in need of fuller development, be preserved pure even in its corporeally-symbolical manifestation.
The moral sparing of one’s self is the higher moral application
of a law that pervades the entire totality of being. That which is cohesion in a
nature-body, and the law of gravitation in the natural world in general, and the
instinct of self-defense and of self-preservation in the animal world, becomes with
man a moral duty. When man seeks to preserve himself, to ward off injury and death,
out of mere natural instinct, his action is not yet moral; it becomes moral only
when it springs from a consciousness that it is God’s will,—that God has pleasure
in our existence as his own creative work, that He has a purpose in us which we
are morally to fulfill. Of a duty of self-destruction there can never be any possibility;
and for a duty of entire self-sacrifice, of the giving up of life for the sake of
a higher end, there is, in a state of sinlessness,
In a sinless state the duty of self-sparing is of easy fulfillment,
partly for the reason that it corresponds to a natural law immanent in all living
creatures, and partly because disturbing influences are conceivable only where they
are occasioned by the fault of man himself,—for example, when he presumptuously
exposes himself to such natural influences as he is not yet able to resist,—which
is in fact possible seeing that, also for the unfallen state, the complete mastery
over nature is presented as a condition yet to be attained to by moral effort. Also
from the influence of spiritual beings an injuring of the moral person is possible,
so long as the rational creature has not as yet attained to its ultimate perfection,
so that here also there is place for the duty of watchfulness, in order that the
diverse personalities that are as yet in process of development may not act hinderingly
upon each other. And this duty of sparing watchfulness is still more increased when
the moral person stands no longer in the presence of simply sin-free beings, but
is assaulted by spiritual temptation, as in the case of Adam and Eve; here the duty
of self-preserving sparing assumes at once the form of a positive warding off.—In
the Scriptures the duty of sparing one’s self, even in relation to the corporeal
life, is presented as per se strictly valid; “no man ever yet hated his own
flesh, but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church” [
(b) Moral appropriating is, as regards the moral
person himself, directly at the same time also a moral forming of the person
into a progressively more perfect expression of the moral idea,—into a personally-
(1) Not the body is to appropriate to itself the spirit, but the spirit is progressively more and more to appropriate to itself the body, and to form it, and thereby also to form itself; hence the spirit alone is the appropriating factor, and the body is simply to be appropriated and formed. Even as nature stands to God in a twofold relation, namely, in that, on the one hand, God accomplishes his will in it, makes it good, and, on the other, reveals himself through it, makes it into his image, into an object of beauty, so also has the body in relation to the spirit the twofold destination of being its organ and its image; the former it becomes essentially by particular forming, the latter by general forming (§§ 109, 110).
(a) The body is formed and appropriated to itself by the spirit as its true absolutely subservient organ, in that (1) it is strengthened and rendered apt in accomplishing every service for the rational will, through the mediating and carrying out of all appropriating and forming action of the rational spirit as bearing upon the external world; (2) in that, in its sensuous impulses, it is held under the discipline of the spirit, and is never allowed to have an independent right for itself; in both these respects realizes itself the complete domination of the spirit over the body.
It is characteristic of the true moral nature of man, that he
is capable, not merely, as is the case with the brute, of appropriating and forming
external objects, but also himself. The brute is formed by nature, not by itself,
and it appropriates
Man virtualizes his god-likeness primarily in this, that he glorifies
God even in his body as the temple of the Holy Ghost [
Man is to form and appropriate to himself his body in two respects; for as a spirit lie stands to the outer world in the double relation of receiving and of influencing,—through the senses and through the organs of motion. The cultivation of the senses is more an appropriating than a real forming; the senses must first be brought under the control of the spirit; the seaman and the huntsman have not always a really sharper natural eye than others, but their seeing is more skilled,—they see many objects from which others may indeed receive exactly the same light-impressions, but yet not actually perceive them, for the reason that they overlook them; seeing is an art, and many, though with open eyes, see comparatively little. An uncultured person hears, in a beautiful piece of music, little more than confused sounds, for the reason that he does not know how to hear. It is a moral duty of man to develop his senses to perfection, fully to appropriate them to himself, for they were given to him by God as channels through which to appropriate to himself the outer world; and it is unthankfulness to God for man to be willing to see and hear little or nothing in God’s nature,—for him to have no open eyes for the glory of God as resplendent in creation, and no ear for the beautiful harmonies of nature and art. Rudeness and unculture are sinful in every respect, and hence also in respect to the senses.
The appropriating training of the organs of motion to vigorous
skillfulness, not merely as a pleasure but also as a duty, is brought about under
normal circumstances not so much by calculating art as by spontaneous natural activity;
and it takes place chiefly during youth. While it was an error of many former educators
entirely to neglect the training of the body to skillfulness and grace, still, on
the other
The complete subordinating of the sensuous impulses to the
discipline of the spirit, that is, the training of the body by the spirit to
temperateness in respect to all sensuous enjoyments, and to such activity
as is necessary to its being a proper organ for the spirit, is also, at the same
time, an appropriating and a forming; the members are to be formed into “instruments
of righteousness unto God” [
(b) The body is to be formed into an image or symbol of the rational spirit,—to become a revelation of the spirit in the external world; that is, it is to be shaped into an object of beauty, into a spiritualized expression of the moral personality. This takes place: (1) immediately,—in that the body, without the express and conscious activity of the person, is formed into a true expression of the morally-cultured spirit; (2) mediately,—in that the body, which though per se possessing the highest nature-beauty, is yet not to remain in simply that state, is formed by means of a spiritually-expressive characterizing adornment into an expression of artistic beauty,—into a symbolical expression not merely of the spiritual in general, but also of the personally-moral character in particular,—and in that, with moral carefulness, it is kept free from whatever would present it in the light of an object that is disesteemed or given over to natural unfreedom, and cast off by the spirit,—the virtue of cleanliness. Adornment, both under its positive and its negative phase, is a moral duty, not merely out of regard to others, as the true moral presentation and revelation of self to others, but also out of regard to the moral person himself.
The natural perfection of the body is not yet the true,—is to
be exalted from natural beauty to spiritual. As the spirit (exists primarily only
in a germinal form, hence the body cannot, from the very beginning, bear the full
impress of the same; the spiritual expression of the body is at first not that of
the personally-formed, but only of the as yet impersonal, spirit in general. The
expression of the countenance becomes really spiritual, truly beautiful, only by
and through a personal character-development, which is, in turn, reflected back
The ornamentation of the body, including the exclusion
of all uncleanliness, is a very important moral duty, and one that is very definitely
emphasized in the Scriptures. On the subject of nudity and clothing, there has been,
both from the moral and from the artistic stand-point, much disputing. Greek art,
in its golden age, represented some of the gods nude; at a later period, when it
had stooped to the service of worldliness rather than of religion, it expressed
itself predominantly in the nude. Still, however, only such gods appear nude as
represent a certain degree of moral and spiritual unripeness or sensuousness; Jupiter,
Juno, Minerva, appear almost always draped; for spiritually-developed and historical
characters, also among human beings, nudity was an artistic impossibility. This
suggests the true law in the case. Nudity represents merely the naturally-beautiful,
not the spiritually-beautiful, merely the human in general, not the personal in
particular,—is that which is alike in all persons, not that in which they spiritually
differ. That portion of the body which does not express the merely general, that
is, the countenance, is, in fact, uniformly left free of clothing. The very sense
for the morally-spiritual gives even a stronger expression to the personal through
the medium itself of clothing. Who could bear the thought of a nude Caesar or Homer!
Christian art rejected the nude, for the good reason that it had spiritual characters
to represent. Moreover, mere nudity is artistically beautiful only in the form of
lust-repellent, colorless sculpture; in painting it becomes licentious and, therefore,
un-beautiful. It is a very false opinion, that clothing really conceals beauty;
clothing, as an expression of the spiritual, as a free artistic creation, is in
fact the higher beauty. This appears very clearly when man is represented not as
an individual, but in groups; a bathing-place, swarming with nude figures, presents
assuredly no beautiful spectacle, even if they were so many Apollos; precisely where
man appears in his higher truth, namely, in society, there a beautiful scene is
presented only by the help of diversified, character-expressive clothing. It is
true, clothing is beautiful only where it is really expressive
Clothing did not first become necessary because of sin. The Biblical
account implies only, that it became necessary prematurely, and for another than
its normal reason,—namely, before the development of personal character had led
to its invention as an adornment. The sin of the first pair effected only that the
hitherto-innocent consorts felt, now, shame in each other’s presence, and that clothing,
the proper object of which is ornamentation, was turned into a garb of penance.
Clothing was not the very first want of persons living as yet in the most
primitive simplicity; nor was yet its lack the characteristic trait of the Paradisaical
state; clothing would have become a moral requirement also in the unfallen state
so soon as man had grown into families, and the riper character of parents appeared
in the presence of children [comp.
Animals do not decorate themselves, they are decorated already;
man exalts himself above the animal by ingenious decoration. The tawdry ornamentation
of savages exemplifies this, under a rude form; with them, the mere changing of
the natural form is regarded as a beautifying; the notion of ornamentation is conceived
under an essentially negative form; the unnatural itself is regarded as beautiful.
There is a higher significance in the hunter’s hanging about himself the skins of
the bear or lion;—this is to him essentially a decoration of honor, a sign of his
courage. Thus also, in the simpler forms of civilized life, it is an honor for a
woman personally to weave and to prepare her own clothing and that of the family;
it is natural for man to display his work, the fruit of his skill; but he also loves
to manifest his spiritual idiosyncrasy under an esthetic form in the ornamentation
of the body. Clothing and ornamentation in general, when of a normal character,
manifest, in part, the general element, the natural peculiarity, and, in part, the
personal peculiarity; hence in the style of the clothing we can to a certain extent
recognize the personal character; the distinction between male and
The Scriptures attach some importance to a befitting adornment,
especially in its moral significancy. Jehovah himself prescribes a worthy garb for
those who officiate in his worship [
That cleanliness of body and of clothing is regarded not
only in the Old Testament [
To the gracefulness and beauty of the physique, belongs also that manner of movement or bearing which answers to the spiritual character, to beauty of soul; the cultivation of skillfulness of movement leads directly to the culture of esthetical motion. The beauty of movement consists in the fact that it expresses the perfect mastery of the soul over the body, and thus presents, in the body, not merely the organ of the will, but also, through the element of the beautiful, an image of the self-harmonious spirit,—in youth an expression of heart-gladness, in age that of earnest dignity. The dance is esthetic only in youth, in the mature it is repulsive.
(2) Moral appropriating and forming, as bearing upon the spirit itself, that is, the moral striving of the spirit to have and to possess itself as its own moral product, takes place through conscious, free activity, although indeed in the unconscious nature of the personal spirit there exists an impulse ill that direction. In so far as man is a rational spirit he has before him his own self as a moral task,—is to form himself into a moral personality, into a character; all non-advancement is here retrogression. This appropriating and forming relates to the spirit both as cognizing, as feeling, and as willing, and looks to the harmony of these three phases of the spirit-life.
It is only when the spirit makes itself into its own possession,
The culture of self by the appropriation of truth, that is, the
forming of self to knowledge and wisdom, is presented in the Scriptures as one of
the highest moral duties, and it is inadmissible to limit this appropriation to
merely religious and moral truth, though of course this is the principal thing (§
104). God actually directed the first man to the acquirement of knowledge by the
fact of his referring him to the objective world about him (§ 60), and in the fact
that He made known himself and his will to him. But the knowledge of good and
evil was forbidden to man, for the reason that a real knowledge of the latter was
possible only by its realization; he was indeed to know what he should not
do, but not to know of a real evil, and only a real entity can be truly known;
but the woman sought after a wisdom [
Feeling is primarily of an immediate, involuntary character;
But feeling must be formed not merely as to its quality, but also
as to its degree of liveliness. If only the more prominent phases of good and evil
make an impression upon us, while the less prominent ones pass before us unnoticed,
then our moral feeling is obscure and obtuse. The fact that feeling, like the bodily
senses, is affected at first only by the stronger impressions, implies of itself
the duty of making it sensitive—sensitive even for the most delicate features
of the godly or the ungodly. And this can be brought about only by a constantly
increasing growth in knowledge,—by an attending to whatever takes place within and
without us; we must prove
That willing is in harmony with knowing and feeling, is
primarily strictly natural; in man, however, as distinguished from the much earlier
self-possessing animal, this agreement is primarily only approximative; the will
must be exercised in order to be sure of itself; man must first learn how
to use it. There is need of a moral will in order that the will nay become moral.
This has all the appearance of a vicious circle, but it is not; the fact is, I must
in general, and as a principle, have a will always to follow the truth, in
order that, in particular, I may actually form my individual will morally,
and make it subject to recognized truth. The spirit is willing but the flesh is
weak; this is relatively true also in a normal development of mankind; this flesh
is, however, not merely sensuousness, but also the spirit itself, the will, in so
far as it has not as yet become veritably free. The will of the spirit must become
something which it is not, as yet, from the very start,—truly free; and it is free
only when that feebleness, which is primarily merely a sort of clumsiness, is overcome,—when
the spirit is not only in general willing to do God’s will, but also shows in each
particular case the same unwavering willingness. That which, in a state of sinfulness,
becomes a self-conflicting double will [
Hence also in the forming of the will we have to distinguish between the quality and the degree. A will may in fact be good in quality, may aim at the good and detest the evil, and yet be lacking in strength and in steadfastness,—may shrink before difficulties; it may begin well and yet not bring to perfection; good resolutions do not necessarily imply a truly good will; in fact, the road to hell is said to be paved with good resolutions. He who has a good will only at first, but does not really carry out any thing, is as yet unfree in his will,—has it not under his control, and is yet a moral minor; he does not actually will at every particular conjuncture that which he wills in general. Hence it is man’s duty to place his will entirely under the dominion of moral reason, to mold it to freedom, in order that in particular cases it may not offer resistance to good resolutions in general,—in a word, that a will of the flesh may not oppose itself to the will of the spirit.
(a) The moral sparing of others consists in a real recognition of their moral personality, and hence of their personal independence, freedom, and honor.
(α) Man’s personal independence and freedom, which are the expression of his morally rational essence, may be limited by others only in the interest of higher moral ends, namely, either in order to train the as yet morally and spiritually immature toward real freedom, or in the moral interests of the moral whole or society.—(β) The personal honor of our fellow-man is preserved when we recognize and treat him as a morally-rational being called to God-likeness and God-sonship, and hence as capable of, and entitled to, moral communion with us,—when we do nothing toward him which is inconsistent therewith,—which would stigmatize him as non-moral, or, undeservedly, as immoral and irrational; this is the duty of respecting our neighbor, and as implied therein of respecting the personal dignity of man in general,—the duty of sparing and protecting the good name of our neighbor.—(γ) From these two duties follows the duty of a sparing respect for whatever appertains to our neighbor,—belongs to him as a possession, is his property in the broadest sense of the word, that is, whatever he has a right to call his own,—and hence a positive avoidance of all action whereby it would be damaged or alienated from our neighbor.
Even as our personal morality does not consist in undisciplined arbitrary discretion, but in the controlling our own will by the will of God, so also there is no moral influencing of our fellow-man without a limiting of his individual will, of his individual liberty, and that too in the very interest of his higher personal freedom. The child cannot be educated without that in many respects limits be set to its, as yet, unripe, unintelligent will; in the person of the educator it is confronted with the principles of moral order under which it is to bow its individual will; it is in fact an essential part of the duty of sparing the personality of the child, that it be not allowed to grow up in rudeness. As the child is related to its parents, so is the individual person to the moral whole. He whose calling it is to govern, must confine the liberty of the individual within the order of the whole,—must in some measure limit it in order that all may become truly free; in an organized moral community it is each member’s duty to co-operate in the realization of moral order, and hence to hold within bounds both his own will and the will of others. Hence the moral sparing of others is never of an unconditional character, but finds a limit in the duty of moral culture; but within this limit the duty of sparing becomes all the more imperative. The limiting may never be such as to reduce the object to a mere will-less creature of arbitrary discretion; the right of the object of education or guidance to be an independent moral personality with a moral purpose of its own, may never be ignored. He who is as yet morally a minor may never be treated as if he were always to remain such,—never as a mere means to an end,—but he must be treated as having an end in himself. A slavish education is sinful; despotic government is immoral, whether exercised by a single individual or by a minority-crushing majority. Whatever apology may be made for slavery in a sinful world, in the sphere of pure morality it is absolutely anti-moral.
The sparing and respecting of the personal honor of others,
appears among the chief commands in the Old Testament [
(b) The moral appropriating and the forming of others are, in virtue of the mutual moral relation of men to each other, always associated together in a normal state of things,—each being and involving at the same time also the other; and both take place at the same time in the moral act of love. In active love toward his neighbor, man brings about also love toward himself, for the beloved person becomes united to, and appropriated by, him who loves; the active love of one’s neighbor is therefore an appropriating and a forming at the same time, both in respect to the neighbor and in respect to the loving person himself. The exercise of love breaks down the antithesis of individual persons, but at the same time respects their moral rights and moral independence.
It is noteworthy that in the Scriptures we never read of the love
of mankind, but always of the love of neighbor; [
The law of love is presented by Christ as the highest of all commands,
and love of neighbor as the substance of all moral duties toward our fellow-man
[
The symbolical expression of mutual union in love is bodily touching,
especially the giving of the hand [
Active love is a self-impartation of the subject to the object,—an imparting of what is one’s own to another in order to exalt his life. Hence it manifests itself in service-rendering, in benefiting; all moral community-life is a reciprocal service of love; every act of love is a sacrifice. Sympathizing love imparts every thing which is dear to it:—(a) It imparts its own spiritual possessions in order thereby to promote the spiritual life and the spiritual possessions of the other, and this, in virtue of an honest and truthful self-communication. To this communication corresponds, on the part of the object, the answering and accepting love of confidence, that is, a willingness to let himself be formed by the appropriation of the spiritually-communicating love of his fellow,—a being receptive for self-revealing truthfulness. (b) Love imparts also its material possessions, and is hence a devoting of our personal productive forces to the aid of the needy, in the fulfillment of the duties of charity and personal assistance. In imparting and devoting itself, love acquires a right to the reciprocating love of the other,—to thankfulness in heart and act.
Love imparts lovingly to the beloved that which itself loves;
only that in which I myself have pleasure, can I lovingly impart; for this reason
every true act of love is a sacrifice, and a sacrifice that is not hesitatingly
and stumblingly brought; love makes it easy; but every sacrifice must be made to
God; only he who practices love for God’s sake brings a proper offering. To do good
and to communicate is expressly declared in the Scriptures as a God-pleasing sacrifice
[
Christ gives as the determining rule for our conduct toward our
neighbor the general formula: “All things whatsoever ye would that men should do
to you, do ye even so to them, for this is the law and the prophets” [
Communicating love imparts indeed all that it has, but it does
not give away all; the spiritual possession grows in imparting itself. The communicating
of one’s own spiritual possessions is the exercise of truthfulness. The rational
spirit has, in virtue of its own duty of spiritual appropriating, an absolute right
to truthfulness in the self-communications of. others, though indeed not an unconditional
right to the communication of all that is known by others. Love admits of
no falseness; and though there may be things in the life, even of the righteous,
especially inner states, which may not and should not be communicated indiscriminately
to every one,—for example, to the as yet morally immature,—still, this silence
is essentially different from falsifying. In the Scriptures truthfulness is based
on love; “speak every man truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another”
[
The formative influencing of others through the living-out of
a moral character is to be regarded simply as a phase of the truthfulness of loving
self-communication, and not as constituting a special duty of giving a good example
[
Spiritual self-communicating, even when perfectly truthful, is not per se of a moral character, for, in view of the limitedness of men as individual persons, it is in fact a direct necessity; for this reason, perfect solitude is so great a torment; the recluse endures his freely-chosen solitude solely because he is engaged in a continuous spiritual self-communicating, namely, to God in prayer; a non-praying, unpious solitary would either be suffering the severest punishment or would be spiritually deranged. Self-impartation may even be sinful, as in purposeless, thoughtless gossip; it becomes moral only when it is a practicing of love. Loving self-communication seeks not its own but that which is another’s. Falsehood is hatred, is lovelessness; where true love is there falsehood is impossible; hence the deep pain occasioned by falseness on the part of the beloved one.
From the fact that truthfulness is an expression of love, it is
entitled to answering love from the other party, to a ready welcoming, to confidence.
It is true, confidence in men is generally presented in the Scriptures as deceiving
[
The more outward form of self-imparting through service-rendering
[
Love is in its very nature communion-forming,—calls for the love
of the other. And unreciprocated love presupposes sin. Love gives itself over, but
it does not give itself away; it desires to find itself again in the beloved, even
as light never shines without being reflected. The loving reflection of love, namely,
love as the fruit of love, is thankfulness. He to whom thankfulness or unthankfulness
is indifferent, has no love; even the Lord himself wept over Jerusalem when it spurned
his love. The warmer the love, so much the more sensitively is felt the chill of
thanklessness; only a taking refuge in the love of God can assuage this pang. But
only he is entitled to thankfulness whose love is itself humble thanks to the loving
God; without this the pretended right is simply presumptuous self-seeking. The moral
worth of thankfulness and the despicableness of thanklessness are recognized even
among the rudest tribes, as in fact even in brutes thankfulness is manifested by
brightened looks; and hence Christ represents this duty as valid even among the
heathen,—as instinctively commending itself to the natural consciousness, and as
also practiced by man in his natural state [
At an equal stage of spiritually-moral maturity, men are related
to each other as mutually-forming and appropriating each other to a like degree;
but the more there is a difference in this maturity, so much the more predominates
on the part of the
A complete moral equalization of all men as to their moral influencing of others would be an irrational reversing of all moral order, a dissolving of all historical life into unorganized individual units. Children never sustain to their parents a relation of perfect equality; their relation to them is always rather appropriating than formative; the resistance of children to the higher moral validity of the parents is regarded among almost all nations as a flagrant outrage, and reverence for age as a high virtue. But society at large is a moral whole, and here also the higher-advanced have and exercise naturally a guiding and an educative influencing-activity over and upon the others, and the totality has a higher validity than the individual. The higher-developed moral individual sustains to the morally-immature the right and duty of educative influencing; a perfectly holy man would enjoy per se a right to spiritually-moral dominion; and for this good reason, and not simply in virtue of his being the Son of God, is Christ our legitimate Lord. Nevertheless the right and duty of moral forming never sinks, even in case of the most immature, to absolute nothing; childish innocence has disarmed many an evil intent; the direct impression of guileless confidence, of unsuspicion, strikes the malicious purpose with shame. The pious simplicity of the faith-word of a child has often proved a heart-stirring awakening for vain wisdom-boasting unbelief.—Also toward the moral community, the individual sustains the right and the duty of moral influencing, though in a normal development of the community-life this influencing would give place very largely to appropriating; moreover it varies according to the varying social stations of the individual.
(a) The moral sparing to which nature, in virtue of its essence as God’s perfectly created work, and as an expression of the divine love and wisdom, has a right, requires that man, in the exercise of the moral dominion over nature to which he is called, regard this, its divine phase, with due respect,—that he avoid all purposeless and wanton changing or destroying of natural objects, and that, on the contrary, he exercise toward nature a considerate love, especially in its higher manifestations, by preserving them in their peculiarity. The duty of considerate sparing rises in proportion as the nature-creature comes into actual relation to human life, and enters into the sphere of his moral activity as a helping factor.
Moral love to nature is thankfulness to God who gave it to us
for moral enjoyment and for moral dominion; to man, as pure, God gave not an uncongenial
and fear-awakening nature, but a Paradisaical nature. God loves nature as he made
it, and from its bosom God’s creative love beams out toward us, and he has even
impressed manifold natural suggestions of the moral upon it; Christ himself requires
respect for nature, for the heavens are God’s throne and the earth is his footstool
[
The piety-inspired careful sparing of whatever contributes to
the nourishment of man, is so natural an expression of the moral consciousness
that it prevails among almost all, and even barbarous, nations. Christ sanctions
this significant carefulness [
(b) The moral appropriating of nature is either of a purely spiritual, or of an actual character.—1. Spiritual appropriating consists, in addition to the legitimate striving after the highest possible knowledge of nature considered as a manifestation of divine power, love and wisdom, mainly in the reflective contemplating of nature in its symbolical suggestiveness of the moral,—God having implanted in it natural symbols of the moral.
The thoughtful, moral contemplating of nature is at once of a
pious and of a poetical character;
(2) The actual appropriating of nature-objects for nourishment,
and thereby at the same time for sensuous enjoyment, involving the destruction of
living natural objects,—rests upon the moral right of man over nature; and
the limitations to the enjoyment of the nature-objects which serve for food, lie
less in the nature-objects themselves than in the degree to which they are used
and in the moral state of the person, as also in the thought of the morally-becoming.
Also the flesh of animals is allowed to man for food) and hence also the killing
of the same for such purposes, although in connection therewith all cruelty and
all wanton levity is to be avoided. The chase is moral only in this sense, and not
for diversion.
What things are per se appropriate as means of nourishment,
is not a moral but a physiological question. Although for the state of sinfulness,
the disciplinary law of God required man also in this sphere to distinguish between
clean and unclean, and forbade to him a number of per se appropriate means
of nourishment, still this law of limiting discipline had no validity for humanity
while as yet unstained by sin. Here are applicable the words of Christ: “Not that
which goeth into the mouth defileth a man” [
The admissibility of flesh-food, though very clear from
a physiological stand-point, has yet been contested from a moral point of view.
Asceticism has in all ages laid great stress on abstinence from flesh; the Indians
reject flesh-food unconditionally, inasmuch as, in consequence of their Pantheistic
philosophy, they regard the slaughtering of animals, otherwise than for sacrifice,
as a blasphemous outrage.
It is indeed not to be denied that in the practice of the slaying of animals in general there lies a moral danger; it tends to blunt our feelings of natural compassion; and it is not a mere morbid sensibility, that makes it repugnant to some persons, e. g., to wring off the head of a dove; moreover it is a well-known fact that those who are engaged for the most part in the slaughtering of animals are liable to become hardened and cruel; it does not follow from this, however, that the slaughtering of animals for food is per se wrong, but only that the manner of the slaughtering is not a matter of indifference,—that it should be done with the least possible suffering, and that not every animal is equally appropriate therefor. It is in fact repugnant to our moral feelings to slaughter such domestic animals as by their fidelity to and fondness for us, have become in some respect our home-companions; it has the look of treachery on the part of man,—of a betrayal of the confidence which the animal had placed in him, in a word, of a breach of faith. The iron necessity of our evil-fraught actual condition may excuse it; but it is surely not the proper relation of things; and the fact that the general feeling of almost all cultured nations has a horror of the butchering of dogs and horses, man’s most faithful companions, has its foundation surely not in any notion of the unwholesomeness of their flesh, but in a very legitimate moral feeling,—a feeling the disregarding of which is no mark of a special refinement of culture. Much more natural, and less questionably morally, is the killing of wild animals, and of such animals of the flock as have not as yet stood to man in a close relation of confidence. We cannot here as yet discuss in full the subjects of food and drink.
(c) The formative working upon nature, the shaping of it into an organ for man, is at the same time also an exalting of nature into the service of the moral life, and hence a forming of it into an expression of the human spirit,—an educating of nature whereby it is raised above its immediate naturalness. and is made to receive the impress of human action, of spiritual discipline. Man ennobles, spiritualizes, nature, and makes it into his spiritual possession, into his freely-formed home,—and in forming nature he appropriates it at the same time to himself.
If the dominating of man over nature,—to which God expressly called
the first man [
The task of overcoming the wild forces of nature that stand in
the way of individual human life, and of subjecting them to the discipline of the
spirit, is a powerful stimulus to moral activity; and they are in fact, in virtue
of the divine creative plan, perfectly overcomable by the rational spirit,—if not
always by the individual, yet at least by the collective, spirit. Though it is not
true that all nature-objects exist merely for the outward use of man, nevertheless
they are in fact for man, in a still higher sense,—for his moral delight,
for spiritual enjoyment, for the service of the moral life. The dominion and discipline
which man can and should exercise over the animal world, does not in the original
purpose imply that he is to surround himself in his domestic life with animals of
every sort, but it does imply that he ought not (as, however, has actually taken
place) to acknowledge them as a power over against himself, and before which he
has to tremble, and against which he can secure himself only by strategy and deadly
violence; on the contrary, he should rise to a consciousness of his all-sufficient
dominating power over
The end of moral action, as willed by man as moral, is identical with the end of God in man’s creation; in this action man wills perfectly to realize in himself the image of God,—to develop himself in reality as a good being, and thereby to realize the good in general. In so far as the good is a fruit of moral action, it is not a something exterior to man, but inheres in him,—is his possession, which, as incorporated into the morally-formed essence of man himself, and as thenceforth inseparable from him, is a property or quality of his person. In so far as the good is the property of man, it is his moral estate. Hence, as the end of the moral activity in general is the good, so is this end, for the moral man himself; the good as having become a moral estate.
The world is, with its mere creation, not as yet complete, but
is charged with a task which is to be carried out by moral creatures themselves.
Though it is true that all good is from God, still all good is not from Him immediately;
but in man’s case it arises through the free developing of that which was directly
created. Man is himself to create good; though as a creature he is good, yet he
is not good in such a manner as he is to become so; the image of God becomes
complete in him only through his own moral activity; and he makes into a good entity
not only himself, but also the world that comes into contact with him,—he creates
a spiritual historical world which is itself good. To this good as created by himself
he sustains quite other relations than to that which is directly given to him in
his natural existence. To the first man much
The good to be attained to by moral action is, that perfection
which answers to the divine creative intention,—on the one hand, the perfection
of the individual person, and, on the other, that of the moral community; that is,
it is in part a personal, and in part a common good. The two
The thought of a moral communion, and hence also of a moral common-good, is met with also in the extra-Christian world; the Republic of Plato was meant to embody it. But where the common ground of the personal good as well as of the common good, namely, communion with God, is lacking, there this thought is realizable only as a sum total of single goods, or only by the all-dominating despotism of the community-organism over the individuals, as in the system of Plato. A vital union of the two forms of good is effected only by the Christian God-consciousness. Some form of communion with God is enjoyed by every creature as such; this, however, is of a merely natural character, and needs, in the case of rational creatures, to be exalted to a moral character. As coming from the hands of nature man is not the child of God; he becomes truly such only by free moral love to God.
The question as to the highest good,—for the heathen difficult
and in fact not truly solvable at all,—is, from an evangelically-moral stand-point,
readily answerable. There is absolutely no good realizable or actually realized
without standing in relation to God, without springing from God as its source, and
hence none for man without personal life-communion
The personal perfection of the individual person is the realization
and virtualization of God-sonship, that is, of the idea of man, and of the creative
will of God as to man. The moral goal set before man, namely,
To be perfect is neither an improper nor an impossible requirement
upon man; on the contrary, it is expressly presented by Christ and the apostles
as the moral goal: “Be ye therefore perfect (τέλειοι)
even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” [
All moral attainments, and hence all the elements and forms of
perfection or of the true good, are a moral possession, and hence a property. Every
possession
(a) The outward possession-legal property, temporal means—is, as the fruit of moral labor, a real and legitimate good, and hence also a legitimate end of moral effort, though it becomes at once sinful when it is made the end per se, the highest good itself, when it is placed above the inward possession and not rather vitally united with it, when the effort for it aims merely at the enjoyment and not. also at the moral culture and the moral communion naturally involved in it,—when it does not become a channel of communicative love.
If appropriating is per se a moral activity, then is also
the striving after temporal possessions not only a right but also a duty. Possessions
distinguish man from the brute, and civilized man from the savage; the Diogenic
form of wisdom is by no means very profound. Labor finds in possessions its normal
fruit; possessions are labor as having become reality.
Property being the enlarged life-sphere of the moral person,—in some sense his enlarged personality itself,—the moral phase thereof lies not merely in its antecedent ground, namely, labor, but also in its moral use and application. To its enjoyment man has a moral right, as such enjoyment is the reward of labor; but to the exclusive enjoyment of it for himself alone he has no moral right, seeing that he is bound to other men by love, and love manifests itself in communicative distribution.
(b) The inner possession, namely, the perfection of the personality itself in its essence and life,—perfectly realized in the person of the Son of man alone,—is,
(1) The perfection of knowledge, namely, wisdom;
that is, that all-sided knowledge of God which rests
Wisdom is presented in the Scriptures as the first and most essential
element of the highest good, and in fact always under its two phases, as a knowledge
of the truth, and as power to fulfill it. It is not a mere knowledge in which man
forgets himself in the object, not mere science, but a knowledge which merges the
person himself into the life of the truth,—which fills the soul with vital, life-creating
truth. The object of wisdom is not this or that particular truth, but the
truth,—is the self-consistent complete whole. Knowledge is not yet wisdom; with
scantier knowledge there may be more wisdom than with a richer knowledge; a much-knowing
one may even be a great fool. Wisdom is essentially not world-science but God-science;
it is, as a manifestation of God-sonship, never without a life in God,—is in its
essence piety; without God-knowledge and God-fearing there can be only folly [
Prudence (φρόνησις, different
from σοφία,
(2) The perfection of feeling, as a moral fruit, is the feeling of pure pleasure in the divine, and of unmitigated repugnance to the ungodly, and, as based on faith, the feeling of pure joy which springs from the consciousness of the morally-wrought harmony of one’s own existence with God and with the universe. As relating to existence other than that of the moral subject, this perfection is perfect love as a power grown essential and inherent in the personality; in relation to the moral subject himself it is the perfect bliss of the child of God, the repose of the soul in God.
So long as the feeling of self is not yet reduced to full harmony
with the love of God (§ 92), so long also is feeling, as relating to the godly and
the ungodly, not pure and not decided. As the ear must first be made skillful by
attentiveness and practice in order to be able readily to distinguish beautiful
from discordant notes, so also must feeling, first be made sensitive by moral exercise
in order to be able, at every moment, unhesitatingly to love and to hate at once
in the right manner. Such decisiveness, such purity of feeling, constitutes an essential
part of the perfection of the life in God, that is, of blessedness; blessed are
they who are pure of heart; blessed they who find no occasion of offense
in Christ and in the ways of God [
That such blessedness is not simply an inheritance in the future
but the destination even of the present life, is implied in the moral idea itself,
as well as in the thought of the divine love. God has not appointed us unto wrath,
but to obtain blessedness [
(3) The perfection of the moral will, that is, the full
moral freedom of self-determination as effected by wisdom and love, the perfect
mastery over one’s self, the completed possession of one’s self, constitutes the
fully developed personal character. As distinguished from all mere fortuitous
character-forming,
In that the moral activity becomes fact, that is, becomes a moral possession of the person, it transforms the original, as yet, undetermined will-freedom into a determined moral will-quality, into moral character. Character-formation illustrates clearly the nature of moral freedom. An, as yet, undetermined character has a much wider possibility of choice in single cases than a definitely shaped one; a characterless man is unreliable because his freedom has no moral determinedness, but is merely external freedom of choice. Character is reliable, and upon the degree of its firmness rests the confidence which it inspires; we know in advance with certainty how, in a definite moral conjuncture, such and such a character will choose. This is now surely no limitation of freedom, but rather its moral maturity. The freedom is all the more perfect, true, and mature, the more it is character-firm, the more it has moral determinedness; and the highest moral freedom is that where the person can no longer waver in any moral question, where it has become for him a moral impossibility to choose the immoral,—and this is the state of holiness. Holiness is related to innocence as morally-acquired good to ante-moral natural good—as moral property to mere possession.
Human holiness as a copy of the divine holiness differs from the
latter in this, that with God holiness constitutes his essence itself, and the possibility
of sin is not in any sense conceivable; whereas human holiness is simply a morally-acquired
good, and presupposes the possibility of sin, which in fact it has morally overcome.
God’s holiness is eternal; human holiness is, in its true character, the goal of
development,—depends on progressive sanctification, which advances from a mere non-willing
of the sinful to hatred against it and to abhorrence of it. The moral requirement
of complete heart-purity and holiness may not in any manner be lowered, as if a
limited measure thereof were enough, and as if a lower requirement were to be made
of feebly constituted man than, e. g., of the angels. According to the testimony
of Christ, men are in fact to become equal to the angels [ἰσάγγελοι,
Man is originally innocent, but not yet holy; he is not, however,
to remain merely innocent, but is to advance to real holiness. Man is created
in innocence unto holiness. The mere unconscious retaining of the first
innocence would be a lingering in the child-consciousness; and the going beyond
it,—not of course in the direction of sin but only in that of conscious holiness,—was
the true normal course; Christ’s holiness was not mere innocence. As a morally-acquired
Through progressive sanctifying culture of the will man becomes
perfectly master over his heart, over his will,—the moral becomes easy to
him, becomes his second nature, whereas his first nature is the as yet not morally
formed one. The will of the person is now no longer different from the divine will,
but it is, in full freedom, at one therewith; the divine will has fully become the
inner essence and the vital power of the disposition of the person, not merely in
general but also in particular, so that in each special case the will with unfailing
certainty chooses the right,—even as a true artist
It is only in this mastery that man is truly free, namely,
in that he has then overcome every thing in himself which, as a morally-to-be-mastered
material, was as yet different from the moral idea itself. But freedom is bliss;
he who has become truly free in his will is thereby necessarily also happy. Master
over himself, he is also at the same time master over all that is unspiritual, over
nature; and in having put himself into complete and free harmony with God, he participates
in the lordship of the absolute Spirit over nature. “The Father that dwelleth in
me he doeth the works,” says Christ in reference to his miraculous works—the
works of the Spirit upon nature; “verily, verily,” says Christ to his disciples,
“he that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater than
these shall he do” [
In the possession of knowledge, of purified feeling, and of the
mastery of the will, as attained to by moral appropriating and self-forming, man
becomes morally cultured, as distinguished from the as yet morally immature
and crude man; and in such culture he is truly free. The very first man was
called unto perfect culture, and it is quite the opposite of correct to conceive,
with Rousseau, the first human beings as
(c) In that the morally-good becomes an acquired possession of man, his real property, it has become an essential element of his moral nature, and hence is not an inert state, but an active power generative of new moral life,—has become a creative, operative disposition, and is consequently itself per se a directly active motive to moral action. The morally-good has become virtue, which is accordingly, on the one hand, a good not innate and embraced in the nature itself of man, but a morally-acquired possession, and on the other a power generative in turn itself of the good.
“All Scripture, given by inspiration of God, is also profitable
for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that
the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works” [
In the New Testament the notion of virtue is variously expressed;
ἀρετή [
Inasmuch as all moral motive consists in love (§ 91), and inasmuch as virtue, as a moral property, is also an actuating power, hence virtue is essentially love to God, and is consequently per se not multiple but single. In so far, however, as the relation of this one-fold virtue may be different both as to the moral person and as to the object, it appears under the form of a plurality of virtues, which, however, as merely different phases and manifestation-forms of the one virtue, are never to be entirely separated from each other, and can never exist alone. These diverse manifestation-forms of virtue may be reduced to four cardinal virtues:—(1) Moral love preserves itself for the object in its proper relation to it, and thus manifests itself in the virtue of fidelity.—(2) Moral love preserves the object in its moral rights, and hence in its legitimate peculiarity,—as the virtue of justness.—(3) Moral love preserves the moral subject himself in his moral rights, and hence at the same time within his moral limits, in that it places upon the moral activity of the same a definite measure,—the virtue of temperateness.—(4) Moral love preserves at once both itself, the moral object and the moral subject in their moral rights, in that it actively opposes all hinderances that stand in the way of it and of its realization,—the virtue of courage.
We do not adopt the Platonic classification of the virtues which
has found its way into a large portion of works on Christian ethics, for it is only
by violence that it can be accommodated to the Christian consciousness. The cardinal
virtues which we adopt, result logically and naturally from the notion of love as
a disposition of the soul; and it is, by no means, accidental that they correspond
to the four temperaments. The so-called temperament-virtues are simply the natural
germs of the real virtues. The virtue of courage corresponds to the warm or choleric
temperament; that of temperateness to the cold or phlegmatic; that of justness to
the quick or sanguine,—for sanguine persons are very receptive for whatever is objective,
accepting it just as it presents itself, yielding themselves to it, doing it no
violence; sanguine persons are very companionable. The virtue of fidelity corresponds
to the melancholic temperament, which, directed inwardly and dwelling within itself,
and largely closed to outward influences, is not easily led astray.—The four virtues
are so intimately connected with each other that each contains within itself in
some measure all the others. Temperateness is justness in so far as it restrains
man from that which does not become him; it is fidelity in so far as it regards
love to God and to God’s will as having the highest claims, and does not allow the
individual self to become too prominent; and it is courage in so far as it actively
confines the unspiritual and the irrational within their proper limits. Justness
is fidelity in so far as it preserves love for and verifies it upon the object;
it is temperateness in so far as it respects every-where the measure and the limits
of the moral person and of the object; and it is courage in so far as it carries
out and vindicates the just. Fidelity is courage in so far as it asserts itself
in the active overcoming of all hinderances; it is justness in so far as it manifests
to the object only the measure of love which is really felt for it; and for the
same reason it is temperateness. Temperateness and fidelity correspond to each other
in so far as they both retain the moral person in a proper bearing in relation to
the object; justness and courage correspond to each other in so far as they both
resist all influences that are unfriendly to the moral. Temperateness and courage
are purely human virtues in so far as both presuppose a creature-limit
Of the cardinal virtues here presented, three coincide with the Platonic virtues; but in the place of wisdom our classification gives fidelity. With the Greeks the making of wisdom the fundamental virtue was quite consequential; for all the other virtues were a fruit of moral knowledge, but not of love. From a Christian stand-point, where the moral freedom of the will is conceived more highly and is not placed in so unconditional a relation of dependence upon knowledge as with the Greeks, and where, consequently, virtue inheres essentially in the love-inspired will, wisdom is indeed conceived as a high morally-to-be-acquired good, as the presupposition and attendant of all virtue, and is also in fact closely associated with love, (§ 135), but still it cannot be regarded as a virtue proper. The first and most essential manifestation-form of virtue as love is persistent love, namely, fidelity, which consequently cannot be classified under any one of the other virtues as a subordinate manifestation, but it must be placed at the head, as the virtue dominating all the others.
(1) Fidelity (πίστις),
thrown very much into the background in heathen ethics, for the reason that, there,
the absolutely firm basis of all morality, faith in the true God, was lacking, comes
in the Christian consciousness into the foreground. Human virtue, as lasting love,
is an image of the divine fidelity, which is presented in the Scriptures as one
of the most prominent of the divine attributes, and is almost always associated
with love, grace, and mercy [
(2) Justness or righteousness is the constant willingness
to the actual recognition of the rights of every moral personality, as well those
of God as those of man; it is love in the fulfilling of the command: “Render unto
Cesar the things which are Cesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s” [
Justness adapts itself to the differences of existence and of
rights; God has different rights from those of man, and among men there exist, even
in an unfallen state, different rights, according to their differing conditions
and relations; parents have different rights from those of the children, governors
from those of the governed; justness gives not to each the same, but to each that
which is his due [
(3) Temperateness, the self-discipline of the heart, the
σωφροσύνη of the Greeks, is presented in the
New Testament in the narrower sense of ἐγκράτεία,
while σωφροσύνη, has, here also, only the more
specific sense of modesty and irreproachableness of behavior [
(4) Courage, the moral readiness to combat against whatever
opposes the moral end,—expressed by the Greeks by the more limited
ἀνδρεία, and in the Scriptures by the higher
and
In so far as God himself is the object of love, and in so far
as, in the creature, the divine phase, the image of God, is brought into prominence,
the above four virtues appear under a special form expressive of the essence of
piety, as piety-virtues, which, however, do not stand along-side of the other
virtues, but are in fact the highest and God-directed phase of the same. Fidelity
as relating to God appears as moral faith;
The piety-virtues, only partially corresponding to the so-called theological virtues, are the essence proper, the ground, the kernel and the crown of the virtues in general,—are neither super-ordinate nor co-ordinate to the four cardinal virtues, but are their essential substance and spirit itself.
1. Faith, designated in Scripture by the same expression
with fidelity, is the loving response to God’s fidelity to us, and, as an expression
of our fidelity toward the faithful God, is a high moral requirement,—is a loving
confiding of our own being and life to the faithful love and truthfulness of God,
a holding-fast of love to God. Were faith a mere holding for true, then it would
not be a moral requirement, and hence the possession of it not a virtue; as fidelity,
however, it is a virtue (§ 113). Faith is reckoned to man for justness or righteousness
[
2. Obedience toward God, moral decotedness,
ὑπακοή, is the inclination and willingness
that God’s claim upon us should be perfectly realized in our moral conduct, and
hence that we should do that which, as God’s creditors, we owe to Him [
3. Humility, ταπεινοφροσύνη,
the moral and reverential confining of ourselves within the limits fixed by God
for us as creatures and for each of us, in his special moral calling, is an absolute
duty even of sinless man, inasmuch as the moral creature,
4. Hope, ἐλπίς, mentioned
in connection with faith and love as a high virtue [
As all virtue whatever is a force and a motive to moral action, much more is this true of the piety-virtues. All moral action directs itself essentially toward a yet to be attained good, and which consequently exists primarily only in thought; hence the moral motive is not merely love to an existing entity, but at the same time also love to a, as yet, not existing one, to a merely conceived one, the realization of which, however, is, in virtue of our love to the truly existing primative ground of all morality, absolutely sure to us,—hence it is, essentially, faith in the living and truthful God, and hope of the realization of the highest good. In virtue of this pious believing and hoping, as springing from our love to God, fidelity in our temporal calling becomes joyous perseverance; and in our working for the spiritual and the eternal, it becomes enthusiasm.
Observation. The systematic development of the cardinal
virtues has ever been one of the most weighty and difficult points in ethics. Plato
was the first to present the four virtues, which were adopted by Sts. Ambrose and
Augustine, and which then held sway through the entire Middle Ages and up to the
most recent times; and to these were added and superordinated, without any clear
connection, the three theological virtues (§ 31). The Greek classification of the
virtues is, however, entirely unadapted to the Christian notion of virtue, as the
violent construction of them, to which even Augustine had to resort, abundantly
manifests; while with the Greeks the fundamental virtue was wisdom, in Christianity
it is love, love to the loving, personal God; this love to God was entirely
All moral activity is of a communion-forming character, and all true communion is an expression of love,—in nature an expression of immanent divine love, in humanity, an expression of human love. The highest end of the moral life is indeed the full morally-acquired communion with God, but man, as an individual being placed in natural and spiritual relations to other creatures, fulfills his moral destiny not in an exclusive communion with God, but only in a communing at the same time with the children of God, and hence he has it as a moral duty to form this his relation to other men into a moral communion, without which his personal perfection cannot be reached. The most primitive natural communion is sexual communion, from which naturally arises the second form. that between parents and children; both forms are to be raised from the merely natural. to the moral communion of the family.
As all love presupposes some form of communion, though it be ante-moral
and merely natural, hence the moral forming of this communion is not an absolutely
new creating of a communion, but the spiritual exalting of one that already exists
naturally. Though moral communion with God is the highest good, still this does
not exclude, but includes, a communing with other rational creatures, for God is
himself in communion
The communion of man with his fellows is primarily of a merely natural character; but man is to have in his whole being and nature, and above all in his spiritual nature, nothing which he has merely naturally received and not also morally appropriated to, and formed for, himself. The communion of the sexes, as well as that between parents and children, is primarily as yet extra-moral,—does not yet distinguish man from the brute; both forms of communion need to be raised to a moral character, otherwise they will sink to an immoral one; even parental love may be sinful.
(a) THE FAMILY.
Natural sexual love is, as a manifestation of the divine love ruling in nature, per se a type of moral communion, but it does not itself suffice to create this. The merely natural, and hence extra moral, element of the same is confined entirely to the unconscious natural inclination; the exalting of the mere inclination to real love is never an ante-moral or extra-moral process, but springs of moral determination; the actual accomplishing of the sexual communion should never follow upon mere natural love, but must, as a free act, be simply a manifestation of the already realized moral communion of the persons in virtue of moral love. Without this condition it is not extra-moral, but anti-moral, as an actual destruction of moral communion.
Sexual communion is the first possible communion, and hence has
in nature its first incitation. As man was not an absolutely other and new creation
but the divinely-animated nature-creature, so also is the first moral communion
not one that was absolutely new-created by man, but a morally-exalted natural communion.
Sexual love prevails throughout animated nature,—is its highest life-function, and,
therefore, also the highest manifestation of the divine love as ruling in nature
The flower develops in its sexual bloom its highest force and splendor; the brute
has, in sexual love, the highest pleasure-feeling, that of a perfect, mutually life-unifying
harmony with its like; it is the feeling that it is not a mere isolated unit, but
a living member of a higher whole. It is not man’s duty to suppress this life-manifestation,
but to exalt it,—to raise the unconsciously-prevailing love of the animal into a
conscious and moral love. Though in idea the same, the sexes are in reality different,
mutually complementing each other to the full idea of man. The somewhat clumsy
Love, according to its inner idea, is not only preservative but also communicative, awakening new life and promoting it; hence the propagation of the human race is conditioned on the highest earthly love. All love is an appropriating and a forming at the same time. In sexual love the sexes mutually appropriate and form each other as natural beings, though in different degrees; the spiritually moral appropriating and forming must, however, precede the natural, as its moral consecration and conditionment; the reversing of this relation, the letting the moral and personal love simply follow the sexual communion, is morally impossible, as thereby the latter is degraded to a purely bestial, immoral character, and cannot become the starting-point of a moral communion.
A possession is moral only as property, that is, in virtue of
its having been morally-acquired and appropriated; now the communion of the sexes
is the complete giving up and appropriating of each party as the property of the
other; hence when it is not a manifestation and fruit of an already-accomplished,
morally-personal, spiritual unity,—of the appropriation of the persons as moral
and hence as permanent inalienable property,—it is then not only not a simply natural
action but an immoral throwing away of one’s moral personality, an irremediable
ruining of the moral personality of the other. Lost innocence is irrecoverable;
mere sexual communion without moral love is a defamation. But moral love is in its
very essence permanent; that which is by love appropriated to the person as property
is inalienable,—can be destroyed only with the personality itself. Whoredom is not
mere bestiality, but, as a moral self-abandonment, it is below bestiality; for the
brute does not throw itself away. Even in the case of the first man, moral love
preceded sexual communion. “And Adam said: this is now bone of my bones and
flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man”
[
Moral sexual love being a love of the persons to each other, and
the moral personality of the one being per se equal to that of the other
in moral worth, and consequently also in moral rights, hence that giving up of the
one person, as a complete moral possession, to the other, which is required by sexual
communion, is only then possible when this surrender is a mutual one, that is, when
the two persons belong to each other exclusively; and hence moral sexual love exists
only in the marriage of two persons, in view of sexual communion and consequently
of complete personal life-communion. Polygamy is morally impossible,—is but legally
regulated whoredom, makes a real personal love-surrender, and hence marriage itself,
impossible. For the same reason, marriage is morally indissoluble. Marriage is not
a mere right, is not simply allowed, but it is a divinely-
The extra-Christian notion of polygamy absolutely excludes the
moral essence of marriage; in it the woman is indeed the man’s property, but not
man the woman’s; this involves a difference in the moral worth and rights of the
sexes, which, from a moral stand-point, is impossible; for it denies the moral personality
of the woman; and in fact, in polygamy, woman is only a slave. Of the polygamy of
the Old Testament it is not here the place to speak. The primitive divine institution
of marriage recognizes only the marriage with one woman, and the New Testament presupposes
this throughout [
As marriage rests entirely on personal love to a person, hence
it is not a mere legal relation; and as in it the persons belong entirely to each
other,—are to each other a mutual property, the essence and strength of which is
love,—hence to view marriage as a merely legal relation not only falls below the
moral idea of marriage, but is per se immoral, for a contract-relation presupposes
the non-presence of mutually-confiding love,—excludes a perfect moral life-and-body-communion,
the reciprocal belonging to each other as a moral property; on the contrary, such
a contract tends to raise between the two persons, as exclusively bent on their
personal advantage, the separation-wall of distrust, and delivers the one consort
to the other for mere stipulated service and use. As little as a contract-relation
is conceivable between parents and children in their mutual family duties, just
so little is it morally possible between husband and wife. Sexual communion when
based on a mere legal contract is only respectable concubinage; it stands essentially
on an equal footing with polygamy.—The generating of children is not so much the
purpose as rather the blessing of marriage; its purpose is absolutely the fulfilling
of moral love; marriage is and continues in full validity even where this blessing
is wanting.
For the simple reason that consorts belong to each other as moral
property, marriage admits morally of no dissolution. A moral property is
inseparably united with the moral peculiarity, and hence with the personal essence
of the individual,—is, like this essence, inalienable. It is as impossible morally
to dissolve a marriage as it is for a person to separate from his personal life,
his peculiar character, and hence from his own self; and, as a violent internal
anarchy of the spirit, namely, in insanity, is conceivable only in a sinfully-disordered
state, so also is a dissolution of marriage conceivable only in a state of sinfully
morbid disorder,—it is in fact an ethical insanity, a moral ruin of the two self-separating
consorts. Christ affirms this moral impossibility of divorce [
It is of high significancy that the Scriptures expressly affirm
the divine institution of marriage, and give to moral marriage a promise of special
blessing [
The fact that in all not totally savage nations marriage is not constituted simply by the consent of the two persons, but by some sort of solemn and, most usually, religious ceremony, is a significant implication of the moral essence of marriage; and the importance that a people places on the religiously-moral consecration of marriage, is a pretty safe criterion of its morality in relation to the sexual life.
The two consorts stand to each other, as moral persons, on an equal footing; they both find their union in a complete devoted love, and hence, in fact, in a loving, free subordination to the moral law. The consorts complement each other also in spiritually-moral respects; and it is only in respect to this harmony-conditioning complementing that the woman is in many things rather guided than self-determining. This, however, is not a real domination of the man over the woman as over a subject, but only a conditional super-ordination of the man as the actively-guiding unity-point of the common life. As a moral relation marriage rests on freedom, that is, on free mutual choice; consequently it presupposes the moral maturity of the two lovers. This freedom of choice, however, is not irrational caprice, but determines itself in view of the true life-harmonizing, reciprocally-complementing, personal peculiarity of the two parties, and receives its moral ratification by its being freely recognized on the part of the moral community, and primarily of the family.
But moral equality is not sameness. As the final destination of
all moral beings is the same, hence a difference of the moral worth of the
sexes is not conceivable [
The contracting of marriage is neither a mere business-transaction
nor a fruit of a simple falling in love; where moral love does not form the marriage,
there it is desecrated. Hence marriages cannot be planned and brought about simply
The morally-rational character of the contracting of marriage
is recognized by usages prevalent among all not utterly uncultured nations, and
is guaranteed by the fact that it is not left to the mere discretion of the individuals,
but is subject to the ratifying recognition of the moral community, and hence primarily
of the parents concerned [comp.
Marriage as productive is the basis of the more extended family, which, like marriage, is not a merely natural but essentially a moral relation. The family members stand to each other either in the relation of equality, as husband and wife or as brothers and sisters, or in that of super-ordination and subordination, as parents and children. The relation between parents and children is the first inequality among men, and the presupposition and type of all other relations of super-ordination and subordination. Parents and children stand to each other in the relation of moral personalities, and hence also of mutual moral duties; parents have, in relation to their children, preponderatingly the duty of forming, and hence of educating, during the progress of which, however, the constantly and necessarily therewith-connected duty of sparing, rises gradually to greater prominence as the development advances, until finally it predominates, and the child has attained to its moral majority. As, however, in a process of normal development, the parents also constantly advance spiritually and morally, hence they always retain their super-ordinate relation to the children even as matured; their formative influence on the children can never cease, and never gives place to a relation of moral equality with them. The children, on their part, continue always, though not in a constantly like manner, subject to the parents in reverential obedience, which, however, as itself resting upon love to God, is ever also conditioned thereby.
The difference between consorts and blood-relatives rests on the
difference between moral and natural communion. In
In the family begins, now, moral society with all its normal differences.
Husband and wife do not as yet constitute a society, for they are one flesh;
nor do parents and children form one, for although they are one spirit, yet they
stand to each other in the relation of super-ordination and subordination. Persons
who are entirely alike, and who stand to each other in absolutely like relations,
constitute indeed a multitude, but not a society; where there is no vital all-guiding
nucleus, no throbbing heart for the body, no soul for the acting members, there
is no living whole, no society. Inequality, unlikeness, lies in the essence
of every moral society,—not an inequality of the moral rights of personalities,
but an inequality, a difference, of spiritually-moral position in and relation to
society. Parents are the first princes, and true princes are the fathers of their
people; patres was the title of distinction of the
Roman senators; “elders” is used in a like sense for the leaders of moral society
in almost all the free constitutions of antiquity and also of the church. Parents
are the guides of their children by the grace of God, for children are a gift of
divine grace [
It is the part of parents to cultivate their children into morally-matured
personalities; this is not merely a right of the parents, but also of the children,
and hence, for the former, a duty; they are to impart to their children the spiritually-moral
attainments of their own spiritual development, and consequently also those of humanity
in general, so that the children shall not have to go through again, in the very
same manner, the same absolutely new-beginning development as the parents, for this
is simply the manner and characteristic of nature-objects, but that they may place
themselves in the current of history, and learn and appropriate to themselves its
spiritual results, and then, in their turn, carry them further forward. All spiritual
forming of the, as yet, spiritually immature is an historical working,—an initiating
of the, as yet, immature spirit into the current and working of history. Now, as
the child is in fact to ripen on into a morally-mature personality, and yet from
the start already is, both in essence and in faculties, a moral personality, hence
the forming of the same by the parents is never a strictly exclusive influencing,
and hence, on the part of the child, never a merely inactive receiving, but always
also a spiritually-moral co-operating of the child, a constantly increasing initiative
self-forming of the same, so that consequently from the very start there must always
be united with the formative activity upon the child, also a sparing bearing
toward it; and such a forming is in fact education.—Education,—which, as
aiming at the moral goal, namely, harmony with God and with the totality of moral
being, must always be at the same time a natural and a spiritual, a special and
a general forming,
Reverence for parents, and, what is only another phase of the
same thing, for the aged in general, is regarded by all nations, with the exception
of the totally savage, as a sacred duty [comp.
Children have, toward their parents, predominantly the duty of
appropriating, which, however, gradually passes over more and more into a self-forming,
though without ever entirely breaking off from the formative influence of the parents;
and the sparing bearing of the children toward the parents can never, save under
utterly corrupted conditions, be transcended by their formative bearing toward them.
The formative influence of the children upon the parents, that exists indeed from
the very beginning, can, even after they have become morally mature, assume only
a secondary rank. This predominatingly-receptive relation of the children to the
parents is that of filial reverence [
The right of parents to obedience, and the duty of children to show it, are, however, essentially conditioned on the agreement or disagreement of the parental command with divine will, and can never become per se and unconditionally binding, For this right is not a merely natural but a moral one; the merely natural dependence of children on their parents extends, as with brutes, only so far as the state of actual helplessness and need extends; the moral dependence, however, is a permanent one that is never to be dissolved. The moral right of the parents to obedience rests on the fact that they do not represent their own individual will, but the divine will. And for this very reason the guilt of parents is so deep when they misuse their moral mission to educate in God’s name, and lead the child away from God, placing their own sinful will in the stead of the divine will.
Brothers and sisters sustain toward each other, in the same manner as consorts, though only in morally-spiritual respects. complementing relations; and their mutual love forms an essential element in the morality of the family-life; but this complementing is, because of the predominant like-character of the parties, never perfect and all-sufficient, and hence brothers and sisters naturally seek for complementing elements also outside of the family-circle. This form of love which passes beyond the merely natural communion and freely selects for itself the complementing personality, is friendship.
Also the mutual love of brothers and sisters is primarily of a
purely natural character and requires to be exalted to a moral one [
The necessity of the complementing of family love by friendship,
indicates of itself the reason of the moral impossibility of marriage between
near blood relatives. The instinct that prompts brothers and sisters to seek
friendship outside of the narrower family-circle, prompts them also to seek for
themselves consorts outside of the same. The requisite antecedent condition of marriage,
a difference of the bodily and of the spiritual peculiarities of the persons, exists
most feebly in near blood relatives; and marriage is, in its very essence, a free
moral communion which does not spring from a natural communion, but, on the contrary,
itself gives rise to this. As marriage presupposes a moral equality, and is a relation
of homogeneous reciprocal love, hence it would be, between parents and children,
a revolting crime, inasmuch as here the relation of reverence is insuperable; also,
as between brothers and sisters, it is, for all save the second generation of the
race, absolutely inadmissible, partly for the reasons already given, and ill part
because of that deep awe of the parental blood which holds good also as towards
The obstacle to marriage as found in blood-relationship is one
of the most difficult of ethical questions, not so much, however, because of any
kind of doubt as to its legitimacy, as rather in reference to the moral grounds
for this recognition, which in fact is almost universal and which prevails in almost
all, even heathen, nations. With the adducing of mere outward grounds of fitness,
such as the avoidance of near-lying temptation, very little is gained; also it is
difficult to establish this prohibition, as a nature-law, from the practice of animated
nature in general, for brutes do not observe it. The grounds lie deeper and are
essentially of a spiritually-moral character. In the first place, however, a distinction
is to be made between ascending and collateral blood relationship. Marriages between
parents and children and within other ascending and descending degrees of relationship
are an outrage even for our natural feelings in general [
The most immediate ground for the inadmissibility of marriage
between brothers and sisters lies in the fact, that though here the requisite likeness
of disposition in the parties does exist, yet on the other hand there is lacking
that degree of difference which is essential to a vital complementing harmony; brothers
and sisters are entirely too homogeneous in their bodily and spiritual natures to
give rise to a vital, fruitful, reciprocal influencing. Narcissus fell in love with
his own image, and passed, for this very reason, for a simpleton; and brother and
sister are to each other, each, the image of the other. No sensible man will select
for himself as a friend one who is only his strictly-resembling second-self, but,
on the contrary, such a one as, by his difference, will stimulatingly-complement
himself; the same holds good of husband and wife; of these, because of their constant
uniformity of life in marriage, it holds good in fact in a still higher degree.
This explains also the well-known fact that an actual falling in love between brother
and sister is among the rarest of occurrences, even under circumstances where moral
corruption has taken deep root; (illustrated in the case of Amnon,
The family is a unitary vital whole also in relation to its moral property; it is not a mere sum of simply isolated persons of like name, but a body and a soul—a moral person with a common moral honor and a possession of its own, in which all the single members participate.
The family has as a living unity, also one spirit, a common moral
life-purpose and a common moral peculiarity; the common life-purpose consists in
the mutual promotion of the moral life in one God-inspired spirit; the common peculiarity
is, spiritually, the moral honor of the family, and, outwardly, its temporal possessions.
The moral acquirements of one family member, especially of the head, pass over to
the whole family, and the deserts of the parents bear, in virtue of the divine order
of the world, fruits of blessing for the children, and are rewarded upon them [
(b) MORAL SOCIETY.
Moral society is the family as enlarged by its own natural growth
and by friendship, but which, in this enlarging, assumes also. an essentially different
character. Social communion differs from family-communion by the greater retreating
into the back-ground of the natural unity and at the same time of free personal
choice; society itself assumes an objective, and, in some sense, nature-character;
and the place
The family throws itself open indeed, in a normal state of things, to and for, society, but it does not merge itself therein,—rather is it the uniform and indispensable moral basis and presupposition thereof; it is a morbid state of society that does not rest on the family, but rather throws it into the back-ground, and more or less assumes its place. Only the moral integrity and the deep-reaching moral nature of the family give to society moral vitality; without these elements society declines to selfish, enjoyment-seeking characterlessness.
Society cannot, from its very nature,
require as large a personal
The boundary lines between the family and society are very
As, on the
part of the moral person, love in society is more of a general and, so to speak,
impersonal character, so also is this love met from without by the objective reality
of the moral, not so much as personal love in a personal form, as rather under a
general and impersonal form—as a merely spiritual power, as custom. Custom is indeed
upheld by the individual members of society, but it does not proceed from them as
particular single persons, but rather from the collective public spirit of the whole.
Custom is a fruit of the moral life, not of the individual, but of the collective
public; it is the virtue of society as peculiarly-constituted; and, as such, it
has a right to be respected by the individual; and the duty of the individual to
conform to custom cannot be limited by mere caprice, but only by the higher moral
law itself and by the legitimate peculiar duty of the individual subject. It is
not requisite, in order to entitle social custom to the right of being respected,
that in each particular case a definite moral or other rational ground be readily
adducible for its continuance; this is in many cases even impossible; and though,
of course, the custom, if legitimate, must ever have its sufficient reason, yet
this reason is not always a universally-moral one. A respectful deference for that
which has become historical
As all communion of love is a mutual imparting, so is it also with
social love; the basis and at the same time the moral limit of this imparting or
communicating, is the family. The family throws itself open occasionally for society,—imparts
itself to society, welcomes its members hospitably into itself. Hospitableness or
hospitality [
The recognition of the moral character of a person on the part of moral society, is his social honor; each and every one has, normally, a moral right to such recognition by every other morally honorable person, and should strive to obtain and retain it. The actual manifestation of personal honor, as a moral possession, is personal dignity. No honor is morally valid save in so far as it is, at the same time, honor before God. The moral society into which the individual is incorporated by virtue, on the one hand, of custom, by which he as well as the collective society is influenced, and in which lie consequently recognizes the morality of society, and, on the other hand, by virtue of the honor which he enjoys in the eyes of society, and in which consequently his morality is recognized by the society, is for him his moral home.
Only he has honor
who has acquired a moral character; the characterless is honorless. Honor is the
reflection of the personal character in the consciousness of society,—is its recognition
by the same. Honor is the reverse phase of love; only the moral man can rightly
love, and in loving he thirsts also to be loved, and hence to be recognized in his
moral personality by others; the immoral man as such is not loved, because he is
not in the possession of honor. Though honor is based on moral character yet it
is not identical therewith,—it is character as having become objective in the moral
consciousness of society. God’s honor is not his holiness and his divine essence
themselves, but the recognition of the same on the part of rational creatures; and
as God vindicates and seeks his own honor [
Personal
honor and social custom condition man’s moral home. Society and country are only
in so far a home as they are expressive of the spiritually-moral life of society.
My fatherland is not where I am outwardly prosperous, but where I enjoy myself
morally,—feel
myself vitally at one with a moral community. Mere nature forms a sort of home only
for the savage; a true home is of a spiritual character, and nature is such only
as brought within the sphere of history, as transformed by man. It is at home that
man enjoys his existence; the far-off is tempting mostly only for him who is as
yet in process of development toward spiritual and character-maturity; the seeking
of a new home is in normal circumstances
(c) THE MORAL ORGANIZATION OF SOCIETY.
As single persons unite themselves into a family and develop in it a vitally organic life in common, so in turn society unites itself into a higher-organized copy of the family, into a society-family, into a homogeneous moral organism,—organizes itself into a real unitary life; social custom rises from being primarily a purely spiritual, impersonal power, and becomes a real personally-represented and actually self executing power,—that is, it becomes social right as expressed in law, in which form morality becomes for and over the individual an objective reality and power, and is not a mere formula but is in fact embodied in and tested and executed by moral personalities. There is no law without a personal representative and executor of the same.
If at first view society appears
as a mere falling apart of the family, as a loosening of the narrower bond of love
and duties as existing in the family itself, as a dissolution of the family-generated
collective spirit into mere independent individual spirits, as a freer-making of
the single individuals,—and if it is nevertheless, at the same time, a necessary
progress beyond the mere family-life,—still there can be no resting at mere society
and social custom, but society must in turn in its further
The difference,
as necessarily existing in every moral communion, of the morally-advanced and the
morally less-matured, and which finds its first expression in the relation of parents
and children, forms also the basis of organized society. In this society the duty
of forming, of guiding and of educating falls mainly to the former; that of appropriating
and obeying, to the latter. The guiding rests entirely on morally-religious culture,
and aims by general forming to make of society a moral art-work, a moral organism.
The difference between the guiding or ruling ones and the guided and obeying ones,
is therefore per se strictly identical with the difference between the morally
and religiously higher-developed (the prophets and priests) and the as yet to-be-developed,
namely, the general public, the body of
We have nothing to do here with the actual
church and the actual state, which are both essentially conditioned on, and constituted
in view of combating, sin, but with the ideal moral community-life which is free
of all sin. The family continues to be the moral basis and the pattern. The inner
difference between the guiding and the guided can, in a sinless state of things,
be only of a very mild and a merely relatively valid character. In a perfect religious
community all the mature members are of priestly character, are invested with the
duty of spiritual guidance; and in a perfect civil society all the mature citizens
participate in the spiritual and moral guidance of the whole; and the more perfect
the collective development of all the members, so much the more does the fundamental
relation of fathers and children retire into the back-ground, and
As in the normal family, religious and
moral life are united, and the father is also the spiritual and priestly guide of
the religious life, hence in the ideal social organism, church and state are simply
one and the same thing; they are but two absolutely inseparable phases of the
same
spiritual life. All religion becomes social reality, and all social life rests on
religion; the normal state is also a church,. and the true church develops out of
itself a corresponding social community-life,—as was seen in the early Christian
church, and as, in recent times, the Unitas Fratrum, from a correct presentiment
of the goal of Christian history, has partially carried out. That the father of
the people should also be the chief bishop, is implied in the prototype of the moral
commonalty; but whether in this particular the ideal is to be applied to the very
unideal present reality of the world, it is not here the place to decide. The patriarchal
state is the primitive manner of morally organizing society,—the one most nearly
related to the family prototype; and the family-chief of the closely related tribe
is at once its chief leader and its priest; lie represents, however, not his single
personal will, but the moral will of the whole, which is in turn itself a faithful
expression of the divine will. For this simple reason the ideal form of the social
state is necessarily and essentially a theocracy; for it is only in a vital communion
with God that the rulers of the people have their right, their law, their power;
and it is not the mere divine law that is the all-guiding factor, but the living
personal God himself, who enlightens and guides his trusting children, and governs
directly through his prophets and anointed ones. The divine right of a true magistracy
is based on this idea, but is valid as a moral right only in so far as humble submission
to God rules in the hearts of the rulers. The theocracy of the Old Testament [
The moral commonalty in its double
form as church and state is, on the one hand, a complete preserving and virtualizing
of the personal moral freedom of the individuals, in that the collective will, as
manifesting itself in laws and in the government, is at the same time the will of
the individual, and on the other, a real objective presentation of the moral idea
with a determining power for and over the individual, but which acts as a limit
to the freedom of the individual only when this freedom has fallen from its harmony
with God into irrational caprice. In the ideal state all morality becomes right
or law, and all law is a pure expression of morality. When this moral commonalty
has become a full reality, then it is the kingdom of God as having attained to historical
form and reality. The kingdom of God comes not, it is true, with outward show [
Aaron vs. David, ii, 337.
Abel, ii, 231, 280.
Abelard, i, 205.
Abortion, in Greece, i, 66, 85, 119; as viewed by the Jesuits, 269.
Abraham, purpose of the call of, i, 157; his marriage, ii, 321.
“Accommodation,” i, 260.
Achilles, i, 41, 63.
Adiaphora, i, 253; ii, 123.
Adornment, ii, 242.
Adultery, Jesuitical teachings in regard to, i, 266 sqq.; ii, 309.
Ænesidemus, i, 145.
Agrippa of Nettesheim, i, 281.
Ahura-Mazda, i, 60.
“Akosmism,” i, 289.
Albertus Magnus, i, 208.
Alcuin, i, 200.
Allihn, i, 357.
Alsted, i, 248.
Ambrose, i, 191.
Amesius, i, 247.
Amiability, i, 106.
Ammon, i, 338, 360.
Amyraud, i, 247.
Andreae, i, 248.
Androgynism, ii, 305.
Anger, i, 105, 108.
Angra-mainyus, i, 59.
Animals, ii, 202, 264, 267, 270.
Anti-hero-worship, of the Jews, i, 163.
Antisthenes, i, 72.
Apocrypha, ethics of the, i, 169.
Apollo, i, 63.
Apologia, the, ii, 44, 62.
Appropriation vs. formation and sparing, ii, 180; 186; sexual, 189; spiritual, 190; 214; 237; natural, 266.
Architecture, sacred, ii, 207.
Arnauld, i, 274.
Arndt, John, i, 249.
Arrian, i, 133.
Aristippus, i, 73.
Aristotle, i, 41, 89; relation to Plato, 92; works of, 92 sqq.; influence on the Middle Ages, 93; on the God-idea, 94; on virtue, 96; on the highest good, 97; on depravity, 102; on the virtues, 103 sqq.; on the contemplative life, 109; on the community-life, 110; on friendship, 111; on democracy, 114; on marriage, 119; on education, 120; on war, 121; vs. the Christian spirit, 124.
Art, ii, 205, 209; 271.
Art-works, ii, 184; 205 sqq.
Asceticism, Brahminic, i, 51; Buddhistic, 54; early Christian, 183; ii, 268.
Astesanus, i, 222.
Atheism, i, 52; of the Epicureans, 129; of La Mettrie, 320; 352 sqq.
Augustine, ii, 192; on grace and on the will, 193; on the principle of virtue, 194; on the four cardinal and the three theological virtues, 195; on the divine counsels, 196.
Autonomy, ii, 7, 9, 18.
Avesta, the, i, 59.
Awe, ii, 173.
Azorio, i, 256.
Baader, i, 342, 375.
Babylonians, the, i, 54.
Bacon, i, 303.
Balduin, i, 251.
Banishment, ii, 332.
Barnabas, i, 181.
Basnage, i, 248.
Basedow, i, 322.
Basil, i, 190.
Bauer, G. L., i, 152; Bruno and Edgar, 354.
Bauny, i, 257, 263.
Baumgarten, Alex., i, 298; Jacob, 325.
Baumgarten-Crusius, i, 361.
Baxter, i, 248.
Beautiful, the, i, 63; ii, 9.
Beauty vs. morality, i, 65; vs. the ethical, 80; ii, 242.
Becoming, the, ii, 210.
Bede, i, 199.
Beneke, i, 357.
Bernard, St., i, 206, 224.
Bertling, i, 325.
Besombes, i, 376.
Besset, i, 257.
Bliss, ii, 283.
Blood-relationship vs. marriage, ii, 320 sqq.
Böhme, i, 342.
Boëthius, i, 197.
Bolingbroke, i, 312.
Bona, i, 275.
Bonaventura, i, 224.
Brahma, i, 41, 42, 45; ii, 184.
Brahminism, i, 48 sqq.
Brandis, i, 107, 123.
Braniss, i, VII.
Breithaupt, i, 255.
Brothers vs. sisters, ii. 318.
Bruno, i, 281.
Buddaeus, i, 324.
Buddhism, i, 41, 48, 52 sqq.
Büchner, i, 354.
Busenbaum, i, 257.
Butchering, moral influence of, ii, 268.
Cain, ii, 231, 285, 332.
Calixt, i, 250.
Calvin, i, 242; on the virtues, 243; ii, 301.
Cana, the marriage at, ii, 188.
Canz, i, 298, 325.
Caste, i, 49, 83, 120.
Castration, i, 269; ii, 265.
Casuistry, i, 199, 221, 250, 255.
“Categorical imperative,” the, i, 330; ii, 33, 52, 83.
“Celestial kingdom,” the, i, 45.
Celibacy, i, 188: 189, 254.
Chalybäus, i, 357.
Chase, the, and war, i, 121.
Chastity, i, 181.
Childhood, ii, 69, 263.
Child-innocence, ii, 152.
Children vs. parents, ii, 313.
Chinese, ethics, i, 43; virtue, 46; marriage, 47.
Christ, the nature of his moral precepts, ii, 87; his comeliness, 243.
Christian ethics, i, 173, 328; ii, 1; threefold form of, 2.
Christianity, scientific impulse given by, i, 179.
Chrysostom, i, 190.
Church vs. state, ii, 335.
Chytraeus, i, 242.
Cicero, i, 132, 149; on collision of duties, 150; 280.
Clarke, i, 306.
Clavasio, i, 222.
Cleanliness, ii, 242 sqq.
Clemens Alexandrinus, i, 186.
Clothing, ii, 245 sqq.
Collins, i, 310.
Collision of duties, i, 150; ii, 136, 292.
Commands vs. prohibitions, ii, 124.
Communism of Plato, i, 84; of the Stoics, 141.
Community-life, the, i, 82, 110, 220; ii, 76, 302.
Compassion, Buddhistic, i, 53; 286.
Concini, i, 376.
Concilia vs. praecepta, ii, 113.
Concubines, i, 65; ii, 307.
Condillac, i, 314.
Confession, ii, 223.
Confidence vs. distrust, ii, 261.
Confucius. i, 44.
Consanguinity, ii, 155.
Conscience, i, 339; ii, 99 sqq.
Considerateness, ii, 282.
Consorts vs. blood-relatives, ii, 313.
Constance, the Council of, i, 260.
Contemplative life, the, favored by Aristotle, i, 115; by St. Victor, 224.
Continence, i, 108.
Contract-marriage, ii, 307.
Corporeality, ii, 60.
Courage, i, 103; ii, 291, 292, 296.
Counsels, the, i, 196, 215, 242.
Culture vs. savagery, ii, 288.
Creation, to be completed by the creature, ii, 274.
Crell, i, 281.
Crüger, i, 325.
Crusius, i, 299, 326.
Cudworth, i, 306.
Cumberland, i, 305.
Culmann, i, 375.
Custom, ii, 325; vs. law, 333.
Customariness, i, 21, 348.
Cynics, i, 72.
Cynics vs. Cyrenaics, i, 73.
Cyprian, i, 189.
Cyrenaics, i, 73.
Damascenus, John, i, 198.
Damiani, i, 200.
Danaeus, i, 247; ii, 57.
Dance, the, ii, 247.
Dannhauer, i, 251.
Darwinism, ii, 154.
Daub, i, 344, 351.
Death, Epicurean view of, i, 138; ii, 67.
Dedekenn, i, 352.
Decalogue, the, ii, 28.
Deism, i, 302, 312.
Depravity, i, 38, 42; Plato’s explication of, 78, 79; Aristotle’s remedy for, 114; 123.
Descartes, i, 282, 288.
Determinism, i, 282, 293.
Devotedness, ii, 298.
De Wette, his works, i, 37; 360.
Diana, i, 264, 270.
Diderot, i, 319.
Dignity, ii, 330.
Diligence, ii, 294.
Diodorus, quoted, i, 57.
Diogenes, i, 74; ii, 279.
Dionysius the Areopagite, i, 198.
Discretionary, the sphere of the, i, 155; ii, 122.
Distrust, ii, 261.
Divorce, i, 85; vs. barrenness, ii, 308.
Dogmatics, vs. ethics, i, 22 sqq.; the presupposition of ethics, 180; ii, 31.
Domestic animals, ii, 264.
Dualism, i, 60, 62, 63, 87; Stoic, 133; Schellingian, 341 sqq.
Dürr, i, 250.
Duns Scotus, i, 217; ii, 85.
Dunte, i, 251.
Duties, the, i, 296; all duties are duties to God, ii, 148.
Duty, i, 345; ii, 336 sqq.; vs. right, 139.
Eberhard, i, 298.
Ebionites and Gnostics, i, 185.
Ecclesiastes, the Book of, i, 168.
Eckart, i, 225; ii, 20.
Eden, ii, 51, 275.
Education, Platonic, i, 84; Aristotelian, 119 sqq.; ii, 198 sqq.
Egyptian ethics, i, 55 sqq.
Egyptians, the, i, 54; ii, 191.
Elvenich, i, 357.
Empirical ethics, i, 28.
End, the, sanctifies the means, i, 260; ii, 179.
Endemann, i, 326.
Endurance, Buddhistic, i, 53.
Enthusiasm, ii, 173; vs. the ideal, 174; 206.
Epictetus, i, 132.
Epicurean view, of the highest good, i, 129; of pleasure, 130; of right and wrong, of religion, of death, of the universe, 129-131; ii, 55.
Epicureanism, principle of, i, 128 sqq.; realistic, 142; vs. Christianity, 143.
Epicurus, i, 128.
Equanimity, i, 105.
Erasmus, i, 279, 281.
Erigena, i, 201, 223.
“Eros,” i, 79.
Escobar, i, 257.
Ethics, defined, i, 13; Harless’ and Schleiermacher’s definition, 15; Platonic, 79 sqq.; Aristotelian, 93 sqq.;
Epicurean, 129; Stoic, 141; Old Testament, 151; Christian, 173; heathen, 177; vs. dogmatics, 180; Patristic, 181; medieval, 199; Protestant,
235; I Reformed vs. Lutheran, 244
“Eudaemonia,” i, 97, 109.
Eudemonism, i, 328; ii, 176.
Eve, ii, 103, 249.
Evil, i, 13, 42; Plato’s view of, 78; origin of, 156.
Example, ii, 86, 260.
Fables, ii, 267.
Fairness, i, 107.
Faith, i, 153, 212; ii, 10; vs. knowledge, 12; 215; as a virtue, 298.
Fall, the, in Persia, i, 60; true nature of, ii, 166.
Falsehood, i, 85; ii, 192 sqq.
Family, the, in China, i, 46; in India, 51; in Greece, 85, 110 sqq.; in Israel, 165.
Family-honor, ii, 323.
Fatalism. i, 115.
Fear of God, ii, 89.
Feder, i, 301.
Feeling, ii, 13, 49, 98, 159, 249; its perfection, ii, 283.
Fénelon, i, 276.
Ferguson, i, 312.
Feuerbach, i, 351.
Feuerlein, i, 37.
Fidelity, ii, 293.
Fichte, i, 338; his moral canon, 339; J. H., 358.
Fischer, i, 358.
Filliucci, i, 257.
Flatt, i, 360.
Formation, ii, 180, 198 sqq.
Frederick the Great, i, 320.
Freedom, i, 38; true, ii, 280.
“Free love,” i, 85.
Friendship, i, 111 sqq.; Christian, ii, 318; vs. friendliness.
Fulbert, i, 200.
Future life, i, 41; Egyptian view of, 57; Aristotle’s view of, 95; why not prominent in the Mosaic law, 161 sqq.
Gallantry, ii, 319, 327.
Garve, i, 301.
Gassendi, i, 314.
Gellert, i, 300.
Genettus, i, 272.
Gerhard, i, 252.
“German Theology,” i, 229.
Gerson, i, 228.
Gifts, i, 125; ii, 259.
Giving, ii, 258.
Goal, the Chinese, i, 44; the Brahminic, 49; the Buddhistic, 53; the Persian, 60; the Platonic, 91; the Aristotelian, 96; the Mosaic, 154; the Christian, 174; 220; ii, 7, 24, 30,149, 274.
God, the basis and measure of the moral, ii, 9; his free immutability, 85; 145; 232.
God-consciousness, the, ii, 80.
God-fearing, ii, 172; vs. God-trusting, 173.
God-likeness, i, 77; ii, 164. God-worship, ii, 276.
Gonzales, i, 262.
Good, the, i, 13, 40; among the Chinese, 42; among the Greeks, 43; among the Indians, 47; according to Plato, 77; according to Aristotle, 96; according to Peter Lombard, 206; ii, 5, sqq.; vs. the moral, 10; three phases of, 91.
Gossip, ii, 261.
Grace-saying, ii, 188.
Grafflis, i, 272.
Grecian, the, his unseriousness, i, 67; his presumption, 68; his virtues, 293.
Gregory, of Nyssa, of Nazianzum, i, 190; the Great, 198.
Guion, Madame, i, 276.
Gutzkowv, i, 362.
Gymnastics, ii, 241.
Habit, i, 99; ii, 290.
Hales, i, 208.
Hanssen, i, 325.
Happiness, ii, 175.
Harless, i, XII, 22, 374; ii, 28.
Hartenstein, i, 357.
Hatred, ii, 161 sqq.
Heart, ii, 101.
Heathen ethics, ground-character of, i, 38, 177; ii, 175.
Heathenism. i, 39, 64, 86, 155.
Hebrew ethics, i, 156.
Hegel, his view of ethics, i, 20; 345; on State and Church, 349.
Heidegger, i, 248.
Helvethis, i, 314.
Hemming, i, 242.
Hengstenberg, i, VI.
Henriquez, i, 256.
Hellene, the, i, 64 sqq.
Help-meet, the idea of, ii, 309.
Herbart, i, 356.
Hermaphrodite, ii. 75.
Heroic virtue, i, 108.
Heydenreich, i, 336.
Highest good, the, i, 97, 159, 161, 176, 209, 365; ii, 6, 43; 276.
Hildebert, i, 204.
Hirscher, i, 376; ii, 117.
Hobbes, i, 304.
Holbach, i, 321.
Holiness, ii, 285, 286.
Home, significance of, ii, 331.
Honor, ii, 183, 253.
Hope, i, 212; as a virtue, ii, 299.
Hospitality, ii, 196.
Human flesh, the eating of, i, 270.
Humanism, i, 279.
Humanity, i, 38, 121.
Hume, i, 311.
“Humanitarianism,” i, 66, 121; ii, 255.
Humility, i, 175; as a virtue, ii, 298.
Hunger, ii, 187.
Huss, i, 231.
Hutcheson, i, 310.
Ideal, the, vs. the real, ii, 82.
Illuminism, i, 302, 322, 327, 337; ii, 20.
Image, the, of God, ii, 37, 42.
Immortality, ii, 51.
Incarnation, conditional or unconditional, ii. 86.
Incomprehensibility of God, ii, 44.
Innocence vs. holiness, ii, 285.
Intercession, ii, 224.
Irenaeus, i, 185.
Isenbiehl, i, 376.
Isidore, i, 190, 198. Islamism, i, 171.
Israel, the world-historical significance of, i, 157 sqq.
Jacob, i, 159; L. H., 336.
Jacobi, i, 342, 344.
Jansenism, i, 273.
Jealousy, ii, 196.
Jerome, i, 192.
Jesuits, i, 256 sqq.; their Pelagianism, 260; their moral laxity, 264; on equivocation, 266; on adultery, 268; ii, 178.
Jocham, i, 376.
John, of Salisbury, i, 220 sqq.; of Goch, 231.
Jovinian, i, 192.
Judaism, i, 171, 282.
Judas, i, 343.
Judith, the Book of, i, 171.
Justin, i, 186;.
Just mean, the, i, 45; of Aristotle, 100.
Justness, i, 81, 106; ii, 294.
Kähler, i, 361.
Kant, i, 324, 327; his ethical works, 329; his canon of morality, 330; criticised, 333; his second canon, 334; ii, 22, 39, 44, 52, 83; on prayer, 222.
Keckermann, i, 247.
Kiesewetter, i, 336.
Kingdom of God, the, i, 156; ii, 276.
Kiss, the, significance of, ii, 356.
Klein, i, 344.
Knowledge vs. faith, ii, 12.
König, i, 251.
Köstlin, ii, 266.
Krause, i, 344.
Labor, ii, 203, 271.
Lactantius, i, 191.
La Mettrie, i, 320.
Lampe, i, 248.
Lange, S. G., i, 338.
Latin theology vs. Grecian, i, 193.
Law, ii, 90.
Laymann, i, 257.
Leibnitz, i, 278, 290; his theodicy, 291.
Less, i, 257, 326.
Liberality, i, 104.
Liberum arbitrium, ii, 45.
Life-stages, ii, 67.
Licorio, i, 375.
Lipsius, i, 281.
Lobkowitz, i, 271.
Locke, i, 303.
Lombard, Peter, i, 206.
Love, Platonic, i, 99; Christian, ii, 213; vs. hatred, 161 sqq.; vs. fear, 172; vs. happiness-seeking, 176; a duty, 178; 201, 257.
Luther, i, 235; ii, 109.
Lutheran ethics, i, 244.
Magic, ii, 157.
Magnanimity, i, 105; portrayed by Aristotle, 124 sqq.
Majority, i, 168; civil vs. moral, ii, 70.
Malder, i, 272.
Mandula, i, 271.
Manichees, ii, 268.
Manliness, i, 81.
Manu, the Laws of, i, 48.
Marcus Aurelius, i, 133.
Mariana, i, 269.
Marriage, moral presuppositions of, ii, 304 sqq.
Masculinity, ii, 75.
Marheineke, i, 37, 146, 352.
Marriage, Brahminic, i, 51; Grecian, 66; Platonic, 85; Aristotelian, 118; Stoic, 140; Israelitic, 165; early Christian, 181; “irresistible aversion” in, ii, 169; Christian, 310 sqq.; requires diverse qualities in consorts, 321.
Martensen, i, 358.
Martin, i, 376.
Materialism, ii, 61.
Maxim vs. law, ii, 133.
Maximus, i, 198.
Mehmel, i, 341.
Meier, i, 250, 299.
Meiner, i, 37.
Melanchthon, i, 236; his works, 237; on will-freedom, 239.
Melchizedek, ii, 336.
Mengering, i, 251.
Mexicans, the, i, 43.
Michelet, i, 351.
Middle-way, the, i, 100.
Minority, ii, 68.
Miracles, i, 158.
Moderation, ii, 189.
Moral element, the, of an action, ii, 178.
Morality, Chinese, i, 50; Buddhistic, 52 sqq.; Persian, 62; Grecian, 63; Socratic, 70; Platonic, 79; Israelitic, 154; Christian, 174; Patristic, 181; Hegelian, 347; ii, 8; vs. religion, 15; centrifugal, 17.
Möller, i, 344.
Mohammed, i, 172.
Moleschott, i, 354.
Molinos, i, 275; ii, 20.
Monasticism, beginnings of, i, 183; 200.
Monkery, ii, 280.
More, i, 306.
Morus, i, 326.
Motive, general nature of, ii, 159; 179.
Moses, i, 164.
Mosheim, i, 15, 326.
Müller, i, 351.
Mummies, significance of, i, 57.
“Must” and “should,” antagonistic, i, 14; ii, 90; 167.
Mysticism, i, 198, 224, 231, 273, 275, 341; ii, 18, 20.
Name-giving, ii, 39.
Name-interchanging, ii, 260.
Narcissus, ii, 321.
Natalis, i, 272.
Nationalities, ii, 73.
Naturalism, i, 144: Greek, 122; Epicurean, 129; 288.
Nature, its destination, ii, 156; duties toward, 264; symbolism in, 266; abuse of, 272.
Navarra, i, 265.
Neander, i, 37.
Nebuchadnezzar, i, 58.
Neighbor-love, ii, 254.
Neo-Platonism, i, 144, 147; Pantheistic, 148; mystical, 149.
Nicole, i, 274.
Nimrod, i, 58.
“Nirvana,” i, 40.
Nitzsch, i, 24; F., ii, 58.
Nobility, ii, 324.
Normality, moral, ii, 286.
Nudity, in art, ii, 244.
Obedience, ii, 298.
Objective morality, i. 86.
Official morality, ii, 78.
Old age, ii, 68.
Olearius, i, 251.
Ontology, Chinese, i, 44; Balhminic. 48; Buddhistic, 52; Egyptian, 55; Semitic, 57; Persian, 59; Grecian, 63; Platonic, 78; Aristotelian, 94; Epicurean, 131, 142; Stoic, 133, 142; Hebrew, 153; Neo-Platonic, 201; Spinozistic, 282; Leibnitzian, 290; Kantian, 329; Fichtean, 338; Schellingian, 342; Hegelian, 345 sqq.
Opera supererogatoria, i, 234.
Origen, i, 187.
Ornamentation, ii, 244.
Osiander, i, 251.
Osiris, i, 56.
Palmer, i, 29, 374.
Pain, ii, 60.
Pantheism, Indian, i, 47; Neo-Platonic, 147; mediaeval, 198; of Erigena, 201; of Eckart, 225; of Spinoza, 282; of Fichte, 337; of Schelling, 341; of Hegel, 346; of Strauss, 352; ii, 47; moral tendency of; 81 sqq.; vs. prayer, 222.
Paradise, i, 45; true significance of, ii, 197; 212.
Parents vs. children, ii, 313.
“Parrhaesia,” ii, 297.
Pascal, i, 274.
Patuzzi, i, 376.
Peace, ii, 163.
Pederasty, i, 141.
Pelagianism, i, 260, 279.
Pennaforti, i, 222.
Peraldus, i, 219.
Perazzo, i, 272.
Perfection, moral, i, 278.
Perkins, i, 248.
Pericles, i, 65.
Personal honor, ii, 330.
Peru, ii, 121.
Petition, ii, 224.
Pharisaism, i, 136. 232.
Philosophical ethics, i, 16, 27; vs. theological, 28; 355.
Physiognomics, ii, 243.
Piccolomini, i, 256.
Piety, i, 81; ii, 15; vs. morality, 147; 170.
Pietism, i, 252, 337.
Piety-virtues, the, ii, 297.
Plant-sparing, ii, 184.
Plato, i, 75; his works, 76; on the virtues, 81; on the state, 82; on caste, 83; on property, 84; on divorce, 85; on religion, 91; on reading Homer, 92.
Play, ii, 128.
Pleasure, i, 109; Epicurean, 130.
Plotinus, i, 147.
Plutarch, i, 151.
Polanus, i, 247.
Politeness, impersonal, ii, 326.
Polygamy, ii, 306.
Pomponatius, i, 281.
Pontas, i, 272.
Porphyry, i, 147.
Prayer, i, 177; ii, 147, 218; Kant on, 222.
Predestinarianism, i, 242, 273.
Presentiment, ii, 226.
Prierias, i, 222.
Priest vs. layman, ii, 334.
Proclus, i. 147.
Probabilism, i, 255, 261.
Property, Plato on, 84; ii, 279, 280.
Prophecy, ii, 226.
Proverbs, the Book of, i, 167.
Prudence, ii 282.
Pyramids, the, significance of, i, 57,
Pyrrho, i, 145.
Quesnel, i, 274.
Quietism, i, 273, 275; ii, 18, 303.
Race, the human, its unity, ii, 153.
Radicalism, i, 346.
Rationalistic ethics, i, 37, 322, 324; ii, 22.
Rationality, ii, 6; vs. morality, 9; 41.
Raymond of Toulouse, i, 230.
Reynauld, i, 257.
Reason, i, 329; the practical, 331.
Recluse-life, the, ii, 303.
Redemption, progressively revealed, i, 166.
Reformation, the, i, 232, 233.
Reinhard, i, 360.
Religion vs. morality, ii, 15; centripetal, 17.
Repentance, i, 286.
“Republic,” the, of Plato, i, 82; criticised, 290; ii, 276, 334.
“Rescuer” of the Persians, i, 61.
Reservatio mentalis, i, 255, 266, 271.
Resurrection, the, ii, 66.
Reusch, i, 325.
Reuss, i, 326.
Reverence for elders, ii, 316.
Right, three stages of, 291; 345, 347; vs. duty, ii, 139; vs. law, 332.
Rixner, i, 250.
Rodriguez, i, 257.
Roman philosophy, i, 149.
Rothe, i, XII, 9; on the scope of ethics, 18; 25, 30; on heterodoxy, 31; criticised, 32 sqq.; 359; on church and state, 372; ii, 10, 21, 24; on conscience, 104; 110, 129, 168, 264; on the virtues, 301.
Rousseau, i, 37, 280; his ethical views, 317; 222.
Rudeness, ii, 184.
Ruisbroch, i, 228.
Sa, i, 265.
Sabbath, the, idea of, i, 155; ii, 212 sqq.
Sacrifice, ii, 218 sqq.
Sailer, i, 376.
St. Victor, i, 224.
Sakya-Muni, i, 52.
Salat, i, 245.
Sales, Francis de, i, 275.
Sanchez, i, 257.
Sarah, ii. 321.
Sanctification, ii, 285, 287.
Savages vs. history, ii, 191.
Scavini, i, 376.
Sartorius, i. 24, 374.
Satanology, i, 344.
Savonarola, i, 231.
Schleiermacher, i, XII, 317; on Spinoza, 290; 361 sqq.; ii, 24 sqq., 39, 63, 110. 129.
Schelling, i, 280; his ontology and ethics, 341-344; ii, 47.
Schenkel, i, 337; ii, 107.
Schenkl, i, 376.
Schlegel, i, 362.
Schliephake, i, 358.
Schmid, i, 336; J. W.; 338; C. F., 374.
Schmidt, i, 338.
Scholasticism, i, 200, 203.
Schopenhauer, i, 358.
Schubert, i. 325.
Schwarz, i, 360; ii, 24, 141.
Schweitzer, ii, 58.
Self-culture, ii, 248.
Self-love, false vs. the true, i, 175; vs. God-love, ii, 165.
Self-mortification, i, 50, 274.
Secret-keeping, ii, 193.
Seneca, i, 132; on suicide, 139.
Senility, ii, 71.
Senses, the, ii, 63.
Service-rendering, ii, 261.
Servile-mindedness, ii, 185.
Sex, ii, 74; in nature, 304.
Sextus Empiricus, i, 145.
Sexual relations, Jesuitical teachings as to, i, 266.
Shaftesbury, i, 308.
Shame, i, 106; ii, 239.
Sin, its historical origin, i, 156; Christian view of, 176, 215.
Sismond, i, 264.
Sirach, the Book of, i, 169; ii, 46.
Skepticism, i, 144 sqq.; ii, 13.
Slavery, Grecian. i, 66; Aristotle’s apology for, 117; ii, 152.
Sleep, i, 14.
Smith, i, 311.
Snell, i, 336.
Socinianism, i, 281.
Socrates, i, 65, 69, 70, 72; vs. his wife, 72; advances made by, 127.
Solidarity, ii, 324.
Solon, i, 66.
Sparing, ii, 180; its objects, 183; 232, 252.
Speculation, theological, i, 30.
Spener, i, 252.
Spinoza, i, 31, 278; his Ethica, ii, 1. 281; vs. Calvin, ii, 47.
Stackhouse, i, 326.
Stahl, i, 358; ii, 130.
Stapf, i, 376.
Stäuldlin, i, 36, 338.
Stapfer, i, 324.
Stattler, i, 376.
Steinbart, i, 323.
Stirner, i, 354.
Strauss, i, 352.
Strigel, i, 242.
State, the Chinese, i, 47; the Platonic, 82; the Hegelian, 345, 349.
Stoicism, i, 131; vs. Epicureanism, 132, 145; errors of, 141; vs. Christianity, 143, 182.
Stoic view, of virtue, i, 131; of the life-goal, and of the norm of truth, 133; of the good, 134; of religion, 136; of compassion, 137; of death, 138; of suicide, 139; of marriage, 140.
Suarez, i, 257.
Subjectivism, i, 144.
Suicide, i, 139.
Summae casuum, i, 222.
Supererogatory works, i, 234; ii, 114 sqq.
Supralapsarianism, ii, 46.
Symbolical forming, ii, 209.
Symbolism, ii, 206.
Table-luxuries, ii, 189.
Table-pleasures, ii, 241.
Talmud, the, i, 171.
Tamburini, i, 257.
Taste, ii, 195.
Tauler, i, 226; on three kinds of works, 227; ii, 20.
Temperaments, the, ii, 71; four of them, 73, 292.
Temperateness, i, 81, 104; ii, 291, 295.
Tertullian, i, 187; on marriage, 188.
Thankfulness, ii, 262, 294.
Thanksgiving, ii. 223.
Theological ethics, i, 21, 27; vs. philosophical, 35; as a distinct science, 247; 250, 359, 371;
Theocracy, the, in Israel, i, 166; ii, 335.
Theosophy, i, 30, 341, 375.
Thomas à Kempis, i, 229.
Thomas Aquinas, i, 208; on the will, 209; on virtue, 211; on the virtues, 212.
Thomasius, i, 298.
Tieftrunk, i, 336.
Titans, the, i, 64.
Tittmann, i, 326.
Tollner, i, 326.
Tolet, i, 256.
Tournley, i, 376.
Trendelenburg, ii, 107.
Trust, ii, 173.
Tweston, i, 364.
Typhon, i, 56.
Tyranny, of man over woman, ii, 311.
Tyrant-murder, Jesuitical code of, i, 269.
Unitas Fratrum, ii, 336.
Unity of mankind, ii, 152.
Utilitarianism, ii, 203.
Vatke, i. 351.
Vasquez, i, 256.
Vedas, the, i, 48.
Venial sins, i, 188, 265.
Vergier, i, 275.
Virginity, ii, 190.
Virtue, Brahminic, i, 49; Chinese, 50; Platonic, 77, 81: essence of, 207; 339, 366; ii, 177, 274; New Testament, idea of, 290.
Virtues, the cardinal, i, 195; 207, 239, 243; four chief, 290; the Platonic, ii, 292; different classifications of, 300.
Vogel, i, 338.
Vogt, i, 354.
Volition, ii, 250.
Voltaire, i, 28; superficiality of his ethics, 319.
Von Eitzen, i, 248.
Von Henning, i, 251.
Waibel, i, 376.
Walaeus, i, 247.
Waldenses, the, i, 231.
Weber, Dr. A., i, VIII.
Wedlock-love, ii, 121.
Werner, i, 376.
Wickliffe, i, 231.
Will, the, the sphere of the moral, ii, 10.
Will-freedom, i, 14; in Aristotle, 96; threefold, 206; 209, 224, 239, 335; ii, 13, 45, 84.
Wirth, i, 357.
Wisdom, i, 81, 107; practical, ii, 133; true, 286.
Wisdom, the Book of, i, 170.
“Wise men,” the, i, 69.
Wolf, i, 278, 292 sqq.
Wollaston, i, 308.
Womanliness, ii, 75.
“Woman’s rights,” Plato’s view of, i, 86; the author’s view of, ii, 310 sqq.
Worship, i, 369; ii, 215.
Writing, the art of, ii, 191.
Wuttke, sketch of his life and works, i, VII; his confessional position, VIII; his life-task, IX; his relation to Hengstenberg, X; character of his ethics, XII; scope of the same, 35.
Youth, prone to revolution, ii, 329.
Zeno, i, ]31 sqq.
Zöckler, ii, 266.
Genesis
1:3 1:4 1:26 1:27 1:27 1:28 1:28 1:28 1:28 1:28 1:29 1:29 1:30 1:31 2:3 2:9 2:15 2:15 2:15 2:16 2:16 2:16 2:17 2:17 2:18 2:19 2:20 2:21 2:23 2:23 2:24 2:24 3:2 3:3 3:6 3:16 3:16 3:19 3:19 3:20 3:20 3:21 4:4 4:4 4:7 4:15 4:17 4:21 4:22 4:25 5:22 5:24 5:29 6:9 6:22 7:5 8:20 8:21 9:2 9:3 9:3 9:6 9:7 9:9 9:10 9:11-12 9:12 9:15 9:21 9:23 9:23 9:25 9:26 9:27 11:1 11:29 11:31 12:2 12:3 12:4 12:5 12:13 12:16 12:16 13:2 13:8 13:9 14:14 14:14 14:18 15:1 15:5 16:6 17:1 17:1 17:1 17:5 18:1-33 18:2 18:19 18:19 18:23 18:23 19:1-38 19:8 19:8 19:30 20:2 20:7 20:12 20:17 21:1 21:3 21:11 21:12 21:13 21:16 22:1 22:2 22:16 23:7 23:12 24:1-67 24:18 24:22 24:22 24:31 24:35 24:40 24:53 24:53 25:21 26:4 26:5 26:13 26:14 26:24 27:26 27:27 27:28 28:1-4 29:11 29:13 29:13 29:26 29:31 30:6 30:17 30:27 30:30 30:43 31:28 31:28 31:42 31:43 31:48 31:50 31:55 31:55 32:4 32:5 32:10 32:10 32:12 32:13 32:13 32:18 33:1-20 33:3 33:4 33:4 33:5 33:6 33:7 33:11 33:12 33:13 33:14 33:15 34:1-31 37:3 37:10 37:34 37:35 39:5 41:14 41:51 41:52 42:24 42:25 42:36 43:11 43:14 43:16 43:26 43:28 44:18 44:18 44:22 44:30 45:1 45:9 45:15 45:17 45:22 45:28 46:30 48:10 48:10 49:7 49:10 49:25 49:26 50:1 50:17
Exodus
2:2 2:4 2:17 2:20 2:20 2:24 3:5 3:5 3:12 3:14 3:14 6:27 14:4 18:5 18:7 19:3-6 19:5 19:8 19:10 19:10 20:5 20:6 20:7 20:8-10 20:10 20:12 20:12 20:15 20:16 20:17 21:28 21:29 21:32 23:5 23:11 23:15 23:19 23:19 23:25 23:26 24:3 24:7 25:1-40 28:1-43 29:4 30:22 31:2-4 31:3 31:6 32:9 32:13 33:12 33:17 34:6 34:7 34:20 34:26 35:1-3 35:21-23 36:1 36:2 39:1-43
Leviticus
7:8 7:11 8:66 11:44 11:44 11:44 11:45 11:45 11:45 17:3 18:1-30 18:4 18:5 18:9 18:9 18:11 19:1-37 19:2 19:2 19:3 19:12 19:16 19:18 19:18 19:19 19:19 19:30 19:32 19:33 19:34 19:34 19:35 19:36 19:37 20:7 20:7 20:11 20:15 20:16 20:17 21:9 21:9 22:24 22:28 22:32 25:6 25:7 25:18 25:21 26:29 26:39
Numbers
6:26 8:6 14:13 14:18 14:20 15:38 16:20 31:17 31:21
Deuteronomy
2:7 4:1-49 4:6 4:40 5:9 5:10 5:16 5:29 6:2 6:4-6 6:5 6:7 7:6 7:8 7:9 7:9 7:9 7:9 7:12 7:12 7:13 7:14 9:5 9:5 9:26-27 10:12 10:12 10:12 10:12 10:12 10:12 10:12 10:12-14 10:13 10:13 10:13-15 10:14 10:15 10:16 10:17 10:17 10:17-19 10:18 10:19 10:19 10:20 10:21-23 11:1 11:1-3 11:8-10 11:10-12 11:13 11:19 11:26-28 12:1 12:1-3 12:2-4 12:7-9 12:15 12:20 12:32 13:4 13:18 14:21 15:14 16:15 16:17 22:1 22:1 22:5 22:6 22:7 22:9 22:10 22:13 22:13 24:25 25:4 25:13 26:11 27:15-17 27:17 27:22 28:3 29:33 31:12 31:13 32:4 32:4 32:39 32:46 33:5 33:10 33:13
Joshua
Judges
Ruth
1:1-22 1:9 1:14 2:8 2:10 2:20 4:13
1 Samuel
2:1-36 2:21 2:30 8:6 9:7 10:1 12:22 15:6 15:22 18:1 18:3 18:4 20:41
2 Samuel
9:7 12:16 13:1 13:30 14:1-33 14:33 18:33 19:1 20:9 21:7
1 Kings
2 Kings
Esther
Job
5:4 9:12 11:8 19:13 21:19 27:4 27:6 27:9 27:14 28:28 28:28 31:1-40 31:32 32:8 35:13 37:1-24 41:2
Psalms
1:1 1:2 2:12 2:12 3:3 7:5 8:1-9 9:10 10:17 15:1-5 15:2 18:31-32 19:1 19:8 19:10 22:4 22:5 24:1 25:2 25:8 25:8 25:13 25:14 27:14 29:2 29:11 31:12 31:15 34:8 34:9 34:9 34:12 34:14 34:15 37:3-4 37:25 37:28 37:37 40:4 40:4 40:6 40:8 45:3 46:10 49:11 50:8-15 50:15 50:16 51:16 51:17 51:18 56:4 62:1 62:6 62:6-7 63:7 63:7-9 65:2 66:18 69:8 73:24 73:25 78:3 84:12 84:13 85:11 85:12 86:5 86:15 89:4 91:2 94:9 97:1-12 101:1-8 102:17 103:1 103:2 104:1-35 105:15 105:45 106:1 107:38 109:9 109:10 110:4 111:2 111:10 111:10 111:10 112:1 112:2 112:3 112:7 112:7 112:9 115:11 117:2 117:3 118:5 118:8 119:5-6 122:6 127:3 127:3-5 128:3 128:3 132:15 133:1 145:18 145:18 145:18 145:18 145:19 145:19 145:19 147:5 147:8
Proverbs
1:7 1:7 1:29 2:2 3:16 3:35 4:5 6:6 8:11 8:11 8:13 8:18 9:10 9:10 10:1 10:1 10:4 11:16 11:21 12:10 12:25 12:27 14:26 14:34 15:8 15:8 15:9 15:20 15:29 15:33 16:5 16:6 16:16 16:20 16:26 17:6 17:25 18:16 20:7 20:12 20:27 20:27 21:3 21:21 21:27 22:4 23:23 23:25 28:7 28:9 29:23 30:17 31:25
Ecclesiastes
Isaiah
1:11 1:15 1:17 2:2 4:2 7:15 7:16 7:16 9:6 11:1 11:6 14:21 26:9 29:13 32:15 33:22 38:1-22 38:19 40:26 40:28 42:8 43:1 45:3 45:4 48:11 49:15 49:23 53:1-12 53:7 55:8 55:8 55:9 55:9 56:5 65:17 65:24
Jeremiah
6:20 7:23 7:23 17:5 17:6 18:21 22:3 29:13 29:14 31:15 31:33 32:18 32:18
Lamentations
Ezekiel
18:6-9 24:17 28:22 34:23 36:24 37:24
Hosea
Micah
Zechariah
Malachi
Matthew
1:25 2:14 2:18 4:1-25 5:3 5:3-11 5:8 5:12 5:14-16 5:21 5:22 5:22 5:25-26 5:31 5:34 5:35 5:37 5:46 5:46 5:47 5:47 5:48 5:48 5:48 6:5-7 6:6 6:9 6:10 6:10 6:10 6:11 6:12 6:14 6:15 6:17 6:19 6:19 6:20 6:20 6:20 6:26 6:33 7:7 7:7 7:7 7:12 7:12 7:21 9:13 10:9 10:10 10:16 10:22 10:37 10:39 10:40 10:41 11:6 11:11 11:19 11:29 11:49-51 12:3 12:4 12:7 12:11 12:20 12:50 14:19 14:23 15:4 15:8 15:11 15:11 15:36 17:20 18:3 18:3 18:3 18:4 18:4 18:12 18:13 18:19 18:20 19:3 19:3-9 19:4 19:11 19:16 19:16 19:17 19:17 19:17 19:17 19:17 19:17 19:21 19:21 19:28 19:29 19:29 20:26 20:28 20:41 20:42 21:3 21:22 22:2 22:21 22:36 22:37 22:39 22:39 22:39 22:40 23:11 23:37 25:14 25:14-15 25:21 25:35 25:37 25:40 25:45 25:46 25:46 26:17 26:36 26:39 26:39 26:42 26:42 26:48 27:25
Mark
2:19 2:27 6:32 10:21 11:24 11:24 12:31 12:33 14:3-5 16:17 16:18
Luke
1:38 1:38 1:40 1:58 1:60 1:75 1:75 1:80 2:17 2:27 2:35 2:44 2:49 2:51 6:12 6:32 6:32 6:33 6:36 6:38 6:40 6:45 7:38 7:38 7:45 9:24 9:28 10:19 10:27 10:27 10:28 11:5-13 11:6 11:13 11:28 12:21 12:33 13:24 14:28 14:29 15:20 15:20 15:21 15:32 16:10-12 17:5 17:6 17:6 17:10 17:10 17:10 17:16 17:19 17:20 17:20 17:21 17:21 17:33 18:1 18:1-7 18:14 20:36 21:34 22:24 22:42 22:42
John
1:4 1:29 1:36 2:2 3:36 4:24 4:34 4:38 4:47 5:23 5:30 5:44 6:12 7:7 8:9 8:32 8:32 8:32 8:32 9:31 9:31 10:1-42 10:3 10:17 11:3 11:11 11:16 11:23 11:33 11:41 11:41 12:2 12:3-5 12:25 12:26 12:43 13:4 13:4 13:4 13:34 13:35 14:10 14:12 14:12 14:13 14:30 15:12 15:13 15:14 15:17 15:27 16:23 16:23 16:24 16:33 17:1 17:3 17:3 17:9 17:15 17:19 17:21 18:37 19:25 19:26 20:17
Acts
2:29 2:42 3:14 4:13 4:20 4:29 4:31 4:32 5:4 5:4 7:59 9:13 9:27 9:28 10:15 11:1-30 13:46 14:3 14:17 15:20 15:29 17:26 17:26 17:27 17:27 17:28 17:28 17:29 18:26 19:8 20:19 20:34 20:35 20:35 20:37 23:1 24:3 24:16 26:26 27:35 28:2 28:7 28:31
Romans
1:14 1:19 1:19 1:19-21 1:20 1:20 1:20 1:20 1:20 1:21 2:6 2:6 2:7 2:7 2:7 2:10 2:13 2:14 2:14 2:15 2:15 2:24 2:29 3:11 3:18 4:3 4:4 4:13-14 4:18 5:2 5:2 5:4 5:5 5:5 5:12-21 5:19 6:12 6:13 6:13 7:15 7:22 7:28 8:12 8:12 8:14 8:14 8:15 8:19-22 8:24 8:26 8:27 8:29 8:31 9:1 9:3 9:20 11:16 11:33 11:35 11:35-36 11:36 12:1 12:2 12:2 12:3 12:10 12:10 12:12 12:12 12:13 12:16 13:1-4 13:5 13:5 13:7 13:7-9 13:8 13:8-10 13:9 13:10 13:13 13:14 14:1 14:1-7 14:2 14:2 14:17 14:17 14:19 14:20 14:21 14:22 15:1-2 15:2 15:6 15:13 15:14 15:14 15:15 16:6 16:12 16:16 16:19 16:27
1 Corinthians
1:9 1:10 1:21 1:30 2:6 3:8 3:12 3:22 4:2 4:5 4:16 4:20 5:1 6:12 6:16 6:19 6:19 6:20 6:20 7:1-40 7:2 7:4 7:7-8 7:10 7:12 7:14 7:22 7:23 7:25 7:25 7:28 7:28 7:32 7:34 7:37 7:37 9:4 9:5 9:12-18 9:25 9:25 10:6 10:13 10:23 10:24 10:25 10:25 10:26 10:30 10:31 10:31 11:1 11:4-6 11:5 11:7 11:8 11:9 11:10-15 11:11 12:21 13:1 13:4 13:9 13:10 13:10 13:11 13:13 14:20 14:20 15:10 15:32 15:58 16:14 16:16 16:20
2 Corinthians
1:12 3:12 5:1 5:4 5:6 5:7 5:8 5:9 5:11 6:5 7:1 7:1 7:1 8:1-5 10:15 10:18 11:23 11:27 12:8 12:9 12:10 13:12
Galatians
2:9 2:20 3:6 3:24 3:28 4:4 4:6 4:6 5:13 5:14 5:14 5:14 5:22 5:24
Ephesians
1:4 1:8 1:16 1:17 1:18 1:18 3:12 3:12 3:18 3:20 4:1 4:2 4:2 4:13 4:13 4:13 4:24 4:24 4:25 4:28 4:32 5:1 5:2 5:9 5:9 5:10 5:15-17 5:17 5:18 5:19 5:21 5:22 5:23 5:28 5:28 5:28 5:29 5:29 5:33 6:1 6:1 6:2 6:3 6:4 6:18 6:18 6:18 6:18 6:19 6:20
Philippians
1:4 1:9 1:10 1:20 1:21 2:3 2:6-8 2:8 2:15 2:29 3:1 3:8 3:12 3:15 3:17 3:21 4:4 4:4 4:5 4:6 4:6 4:8 4:8 4:8 4:9 4:9
Colossians
1:9 1:9 1:9 1:10 1:10 1:11 1:11 1:15 1:28 2:18 3:10 3:10 3:10 3:12 3:12 3:14 3:16 3:16 3:17 3:17 3:20 4:2 4:2 4:3
1 Thessalonians
1:3 2:2 2:9 3:5 3:13 3:13 4:6 4:9 4:11 4:11 4:11 5:6 5:9 5:12 5:12 5:13 5:17 5:18 5:24 5:26
2 Thessalonians
1 Timothy
1:5 2:1-3 2:1-3 2:4 2:4 2:8 2:9 2:9 2:9 2:9 2:10 2:15 2:15 3:2 3:2 3:2 3:2 3:2 3:10 4:3-5 4:4 4:4 4:4 4:5 4:88 5:10 5:17 6:12 6:17 6:18 6:19 6:19
2 Timothy
1:3 2:13 2:24 3:7 3:16 3:17 3:17 4:8
Titus
1:8 1:8 1:15 1:15 1:15 2:1 2:5 2:7
Hebrews
2:11 5:7 5:8 5:14 6:10 6:10 7:1 9:9 11:1 11:1 11:6 11:8 12:2 12:3 12:14 13:1 13:2 13:16 13:16 13:18 13:18 13:21 18:17
James
1:5 1:5 1:5 1:6 1:7 1:12 1:17 1:25 1:27 2:8 2:8 2:8 2:19 3:2 3:9 3:13 3:17 4:3 4:6 4:7 4:8 4:8 4:10 4:12 5:13-18 5:14 5:16 5:16
1 Peter
1:2 1:14 1:15 1:15 1:16 1:16 1:19 1:22 1:22 2:9 2:9 2:9 2:12 2:14 2:15 2:17 2:19 3:7 3:7 3:12 3:15 3:15 3:16 3:18 4:7 4:8 4:8 4:9 4:10 5:4 5:5 5:5 5:14
2 Peter
1 John
1:1-3 1:3 1:9 2:1 2:5 2:6 2:17 2:25 2:29 3:3 3:7 3:11 3:11-13 3:22 4:7 4:7-9 4:8 4:11 4:12 4:13 4:18 4:19 4:20 4:21 5:1 5:2 5:3 5:3 5:14
Revelation
2:2 2:3 2:10 2:10 3:5 14:5 14:13 22:14
Sirach
i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348