Why do we make such a big deal of the Ten Commandments? Why do Evangelical activists try to get those ten rules on statues in front of courthouses? After all, if you’re going for pithy religious language, Jesus’s command to love God and love neighbor is far more succinct, so why opt for the Ten instead? Perhaps it’s the image of the stone tablets— as if to say, “These are irrefutable and unchangeable; they are literally set in stone.” Maybe all this hints at a deeper fixation.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about why humans do good things.
Are our actions motivated by a genuine love for each other?
Do we have a hardwired sense of obligation to “do the right thing”?
Are we governed by a deep fear of consequences and guilt?
Or is it some blurry combination of these factors?
Can we really call ourselves “compassionate” if we’re just following the rules?
For many Christians, the Ten Commandments become a short checklist on the road to greater moral clarity. When we can’t yet discern whether our actions are truly compassionate, we can at least think through the list: “Okay, did I love God and not have any other gods or idols? Check. Did I not take the Lord’s name in vain, and did I honor the Sabbath? Check. How about honoring my parents? Check. Did I kill someone or steal or commit adultery or lie? Nope, good on those fronts. Wait, did I covet? Crap.”
These commands carry a subtext the Prophets (and later Jesus) make plain: Do my actions reflect a love for God and neighbor at least equal to the love I have for myself? This criterion invites us to think beyond the mere consequences of our actions and reflect on intention. For the Prophets, the people of Israel routinely kept the letter of the Law (sacrifices, kosher diet, etc.) while abandoning the spirit of reverence the Law was designed to instill. Jesus and his followers encountered a similar state of affairs from the Pharisees, Sadducees, and a handful of early Christian communities too. An action may meet all the legal criteria of “good,” but if it’s not motivated by love, is it really?
And now I’m back to talking about The Good Place, the incredible sitcom in which a chronically selfish person mistakenly winds up in an afterlife reserved for the virtuous. One of my favorite characters on the show is Chidi, the ethics professor who struggles to make any decision because he must spend hours weighing out the moral implications. He seems completely and totally preoccupied with whether his actions would be judged as good or not, when all the while, the show’s comically self-centered protagonist Eleanor begins doing good things for a far simpler reason: “You’re my friend, and I wanted to do something nice for you.” While Chidi agonizes over the criteria for “goodness,” Eleanor is achieving it by simply having some empathy.
If you only judge actions through the lens of reward and punishment or right and wrong, life becomes more about what you can get away with. If you instead weigh those rules and principles against showing love for the people around you, it’s a whole different ball game.