THE PERFECTION OF THE DECALOGUE by Talbot W. Chambers, D. D.

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 23, 1887

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 13, No. 24.

THE PERFECTION OF THE DECALOGUE.

By Talbot W. Chambers, D. D.

WE read in the nineteenth psalm, “The law of Jehovah is perfect,” and this is exactly and literally true. It is therefore an exception to what generally obtains in this world. All men acquiesce in the couplet of Pope,—

“Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be,”

Which simply reiterates what was said two thousand years before in Holy Writ, “I have seen an end of all perfection.” But as the same writer proceeds immediately to say, “Thy commandment is exceeding broad.” Incompleteness belongs to all the works of man, but the work of God is, like himself, perfect, and that not in the sense conveyed in the well-known verse of the poet-laureate,—

“Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null,”

But in the higher sense of being in substance, form, expression, and tone, exactly adapted to its purpose. This has been denied, not only by avowed enemies of our holy religion, but even by some who minister acceptably at its altar. The subject, therefore, is worthy of consideration. The purpose of the ten commandments was to reveal a rule of duty for men, and this we insist was accomplished in a way that leaves nothing to desire. The truth may be shown—

By the nature of the law itself.

Its contents are just what they ought to be. They enjoin only what is right; they forbid only what is wrong. They err neither in excess nor in defect. No error or incongruity can be detected from beginning to end. The ground that is covered takes in all the relations and interests of man; the recognition, the worship, the reverence, and the proportion of time he owes to God; all relative duties arising from the family, the household, and the State; the regard due to the life, the domestic circle, the property, and the good name of one’s neighbor; and then the whole winds up with a precept that shows that thought as well as speech and act is included in the obligation. No modern theory of practical ethics discloses any duty which is not contained in the Sinaitic summary. That summary is suited to all lands, all races, all times, all states of society. It contains nothing that is sectional, or national, or fortuitous, or temporary. The fifth commandment may seem an exception, because the promise attached to it mentions “the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee,” whence some have rashly inferred that the whole decalogue was simply a Jewish statute and destitute of universal significance and applicability. But the impropriety of this inference is shown by the language of the apostle Paul in the opening of the sixth chapter of his epistle to the Ephesians. Writing to a Gentile church nearly all whose members were of heathen origin (cf. 2:11-13; 4:17-19), he enforces the duty of children to their parents by citing this precept, altering [interpreting, rather] the last clause so that it reads, “and thou mayest live long upon the earth.” It is clear, therefore, that the code is addressed to man as man everywhere and always. It lays hold on Jew and Greek, barbarian and Scythian, male and female, bond and free, high and low, all nations, all classes without exception; for whatever other differences obtain, all stand upon the same footing as rational, responsible beings, and alike need some authoritative directory of conduct.

But, while the code is thus comprehensive and far-reaching, it is also succinct and brief, as a manual always should be. It resolves human duty into its constituent elements, and then sums up these elements into a decade of precepts whose force is not to be mistaken. Obedience to parents, the very earliest of earthly obligations, stands for the whole series of relative duties. And rightly, for the good child will naturally be the good husband, and master, and citizen. Nor is it conceivable that one relation should be defined and cared for, while others, equally natural and permanent and general, should be neglected. In like manner when the code takes up the rights of man in society, the leading overt act of gross transgression is selected and specified, because the prohibition of it means the prohibition of all lesser forms of the same sin. And the last precept lays particular stress upon the heart, out of which are the issues of life. Thus there is provided a vade mecum of the most satisfactory kind. A little summary having no more parts than can be counted on the fingers of both hands contains the whole substance of the moral law.

The perfection of the decalogue may be argued from its manifest reasonableness. If there be no God, then religion does not exist, and it is folly to talk of sacred precepts; but if there be a God, the maker of heaven and earth, and sole ruler of the children of men, the one in whom we live and move and have our being, then the duties prescribed in the first table are due unto him. Nothing less can meet his exalted claims. Every feeling of propriety and gratitude summons us to render to him love, honor, reverence, worship, and obedience. And so with the other part of the “ten words.” If men be a race, if they

have sprung from a common ancestor, if they are of one blood, if they are linked together, not casually or temporarily, but by a bond of nature, then beyond question they owe to each other all that the second table enjoins. They are members one of another, and as such must be governed invariably by the law of love. There is nothing arbitrary or capricious in any precept. All spring from a common source, and are self-commended by their bearing upon human welfare. And as far as the decalogue is obeyed in its spirit, just so far is earth made to resemble Heaven.

But the decalogue is no exception to the rule that in this world nothing human or divine escapes criticism, and accordingly fault has been found with it, and sometimes even by those who are within the Christian pale. People have tried to identify it with the moral character of the people to whom it was first given, just as if it were a natural development of the human faculties instead of being a descent from above just as really as the “great sheet let down from heaven by four corners,” which Peter saw at Jappa. Its constant claim is that it came to man, not from him. It expresses, therefore, not the moral ideas which he has attained, but those which are held by his Maker and by him put into the form of statute.

The inward and spiritual character of the morality here enjoined is made abundantly plain by the closing precept, which casts its piercing light upon all that precedes. It does not annex any additional province of obligation, but affirms that the law covers every movement of the mind, as well as the actions of the body, and brings the whole man, inner and outer, under the sway of duty. It was this tenth commandment that wrought a spiritual revolution in the soul of the great apostle (Rom. 7:7), and led him to the true experimental knowledge of his natural condition and character. Nor was this due to any strained application of the words, but rather to the strict and natural interpretation of their meaning. Moreover, when the rich young ruler came to our Lord with the weighty question, “What good thing shall I do that I may have eternal life?” the plain categorical answer was, “If thou wouldest enter into life keep the commandments.” Now it is impossible to explain or justify this answer save on the principle that the commandments comprehended all human duty. It is true that the subsequent words of the Saviour show that he intended to convince the amiable ruler of his self-ignorance, and bring him to a proper sense of sin; but this fact in no way lessens the intrinsic force of his declaration as to the weight and significance of the decalogue.

The Rev. Dr. Dykes, in his “The Law of the Ten Words,” speaks of this code as being of a “juvenile or primary character,” and says that its “requirements are concrete, and expressed in a negative or prohibitory form,” and insists upon the fact “that the sanction of the decalogue was fear,” as if there could be a law without such a sanction. Yet he claims for it “an admirable breadth and massiveness,” and says that “it succeeds in sweeping the whole field of duty,” which is just what this paper insists upon. His book closes with a chapter upon the “uses and defects of the law,” which is very unhappily named, for it is not shown that there are any defects in the law; nay, the exact contrary is stated, viz., that it is a pure transcript of the divine holiness. It did not restore spiritual life to fallen men, but the reason of this lay not in any shortcomings in the Ten Words, but in the hopelessly injured condition of man himself. It follows, then, that however inefficacious the law is as a means of saving men, it is absolutely without spot as a rule of duty.

How, indeed, could it be otherwise, since it is simply an expression of the nature of God in the form of moral requirement, and a necessary expression of that nature in view of the existence of moral beings? Law, according to Julius Müller, is simply rectitude embodied in the form of command.

Again, it has sometimes been objected to the completeness of the decalogue that there are many things binding upon us which, without a further revelation of the will of God, we should never have known to be obligatory. The great duty of men under the gospel is faith; as our Lord said, “This is the work of God that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.” And the whole Scripture is filled with exhortations of every kind to repent; yet there is not a word of this in the ten commandments. The answer is that no law makes provision for its own violation save in the way of penalty. When it declares clearly and sufficiently what is duty, and annexes an appropriate sanction, its function is ended. If a remedial system be introduced, that is an act of sovereignty which carries with it its own conditions, but in no respect interferes with or derogates from the original statute. The law which the sinner has broken holds its primeval character, and it is still true that perfect compliance with its enactments is perfect compliance with the will of God, and needs no supplement of any kind or from any source.

It has been said that while the Ten Words deal well and fully with our duty to our neighbor, they omit the consideration of our duty towards ourselves; and the Bishop of Carlisle, in a sermon before the University of Oxford, said that the criticism might be a true one. Is it so? Nay, on the contrary, is it not clear that men are so closely interlinked together in the whole circle of their relations and interests, that he who performs his duty to his Maker and to his fellows must needs perform whatever obligations he owes to himself? The latter may be comprehended in self-support, self-defense, self-control, and self-culture. Yet every one of these, besides being involved in the nature of man as a moral and responsible being, is necessarily secured by the discharge of his duty as laid down in the decalogue. If he does not support himself, then he takes that support wrongfully from others. If he does not control himself, how can he avoid sin against others? If he does not train his own body, mind, and heart, how can he perform properly his part in society? The objection is purely fanciful. Duties to one’s self are most surely fulfilled when they are considered as parts of what a man owes to other beings, and there is no need of their being put in a distinct category.—Talbot W. Chambers, D. D., in Old Testament Student.