The Questions the Bible Doesn't Answer

Why wisdom is more than following the rules

Jack wrote an excellent post a few weeks ago, “When God Patched His Own Law,” in which he explained that there is more room for interpretation in biblical teaching than we sometimes think. When Paul writes that we are to “work out your salvation in fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12), I think this is at least part of what he means. Our responsibility to apply the Bible’s teaching is not to be taken lightly; these are the words of God, after all. But we are responsible for more than following rules. Some teaching requires discernment so we can apply it wisely in the unique circumstances we may be facing.

I’ve been reading through the books of Moses in my quiet times in recent weeks. While Jack’s post was fresh in my mind, I read a passage in Exodus that triggered some related thoughts.

The passage that caught my eye is in Exodus 23, which contains strictures against injustice in both the legal and personal realms (“If you see the donkey of someone who hates you fallen down under its load, do not leave it there; be sure you help him with it”). Some of the commands are familiar; for example, God warns his people, “Do not deny justice to your poor people in their lawsuits” (v. 6). He follows with the admonition, “Do not oppress an alien” (v. 9) – someone of foreign birth who is living among you.

The rich have always had advantages in legal contests. Apart from the not-insignificant fact that they have better lawyers, they are likely to be more experienced with the law and its nuances, and better able to navigate the legal system for their own benefit. This can be an even greater advantage in a dispute with immigrants who may lack a basic understanding of the legal system.

The rich can also bring other forms of influence to bear. We tend to defer to someone who has achieved great success. And while verse 8 prohibits bribes, even in the absence of a bribe a rich person usually has potential value to offer. Proverbs 14:20 makes the observation, “The poor are shunned even by their neighbors, but the rich have many friends.” There’s a reason for that.

But Exodus 23 also contains this admonition: “Do not follow the crowd in doing wrong. . . . and do not show favoritism to a poor man in his lawsuit” (vv. 2-3).

American culture has displayed a tendency to mass hysteria throughout its history, when outrage turns “the crowd” into a mob that takes justice into its own hands. At times the outrage is fueled by perceived injustice, as when the Black Lives Matter movement erupted after George Floyd was killed by a brutal policeman.

In recent years, the perception of growing income inequality has fueled increasingly aggressive rhetoric. The current Democratic candidate for mayor of New York recently said, “I don’t think there should be billionaires.” I think it’s fair to say that politicians make statements like these when they perceive them to be popular, whether they have deeply held convictions on the matter or not.

And yet, the Law reminds us that tilting justice to favor the poor is also unjust. In a sense, that seems obvious. Injustice in either direction is still injustice. It’s just as wrong to punish a successful person for the fruits of their hard work as it is to overlook the claims of someone who has been unable to overcome the obstacles in their way.

But the implications of this dual prohibition – don’t favor the rich, but don’t favor the poor either – are far from simple. How do we counteract the natural advantage of the rich in a legal contest, which we ought to try to do, without being partial to the poor? How does a person sitting in judgment assure that they are not swayed by subtle factors that could lead to favoritism, or by their own biases? Is it even possible to know one’s own heart well enough to ensure that you are being impartial?

Spencer Selvidge for the San Antonio Express News

There is not a clearcut instruction about how to address these matters; I don’t know that such an instruction could even be framed. Some choices lend themselves to a clear distinction between right and wrong: “Thou shalt not kill” is an obvious example. Most dilemmas, though, involve at least some shade of grey, not least because we never have complete information when we are deciding. Rather than a problem to be solved, these situations present us with a tension to be managed as we seek to be aware of our biases, which can point in either direction, whether we tend to side with the underdog or to defend the establishment. Rather than a choice between right and wrong, we must make trade-offs between two imperfect solutions whose relative merits must be carefully weighed.

Have you ever been in a setting like this? How do you render a decision that honors God when it isn’t clear how you should decide – when in fact you can’t eliminate the possibility that you are deciding wrongly, and yet decide you must, knowing that lives will be affected by the decision you make?

I understand the desire for clear direction from God in such a setting, but my experience is that clear direction is rarely provided. I don’t know if we’re even to seek it. Instead, we are told, “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him” (James 1:5, emphasis added).

God wants us to become wise. But it seems significant that, rather than giving answers, biblical teaching often poses instead the questions we need to ponder. Don’t feel wise? Good. Wisdom is grounded in humility. It establishes the right posture, with the right perspective, before God. Your reliance is not on yourself; it grows from the faith that the God who placed you in this situation is able to provide all that you need so you can honor him in the way that you handle it.