The Book of Proverbs and Virtue Ethics 9781108839778, 9781108885119, 2020013849, 2020013850, 9781108813716

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The Book of Proverbs and Virtue Ethics In this book, Arthur Jan Keefer offers a new interpretation of the book of Proverbs from the standpoint of virtue ethics. Using an innovative method that bridges philosophy and biblical studies, he argues that much of the instruction within Proverbs meets the criteria for moral and theological virtue as set out in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics and the works of St. Thomas Aquinas. Keefer presents the moral thought of Proverbs in its social, historical, and theological contexts. He shows how these contexts shed light on the conceptualization of virtue, the virtues that are promoted and omitted, and the characteristics that make Proverbs a distinctive moral tradition. In giving undivided attention to biblical virtue, this volume opens the way for new avenues of study in biblical ethics, including law, narrative, and other aspects of biblical instruction and wisdom. Arthur Jan Keefer is a schoolmaster and chaplain at Eton College, where he teaches theology, philosophy and religion. He is also the author of Proverbs 1–9 as an Introduction to the Book of Proverbs (Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2020), along with numerous journal articles, and is coeditor of The Cambridge Companion to Biblical Wisdom Literature (forthcoming).

The Book of Proverbs and Virtue Ethics Integrating the Biblical and Philosophical Traditions

ARTHUR JAN KEEFER Eton College

University Printing House, Cambridge cb2 8bs, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, ny 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, vic 3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06–04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108839778 doi: 10.1017/9781108885119 © Cambridge University Press 2021 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2021 A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data names: Keefer, Arthur Jan, 1987– author. title: The book of Proverbs and virtue ethics : integrating the biblical and philosophical traditions / Arthur Jan Keefer, Eton College. description: Cambridge, United Kingdom ; New York, NY, USA : Cambridge University Press, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. identifiers: lccn 2020013849 (print) | lccn 2020013850 (ebook) | isbn 9781108839778 (hardback) | isbn 9781108813716 (paperback) | isbn 9781108885119 (epub) subjects: lcsh: Bible. Proverbs–Criticism, interpretation, etc. | Aristotle. Nicomachean ethics. | Thomas, Aquinas, Saint, 1225?–1274. | Virtue. | Ethics. classification: lcc bs1465.52 .k44 2021 (print) | lcc bs1465.52 (ebook) | ddc 241/.4–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020013849 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020013850 isbn 978-1-108-83977-8 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

For my parents

Contents

List of Tables Preface Note on Texts and Translation List of Abbreviations

page viii ix xi xii

1

Introduction

1

2

Views of Virtue in Philosophy

14

3

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

42

4

Honor, Shame, Humility, and Pride

93

5

Courage, Work, Speech, and Friendship

120

6

Theological Virtues in Proverbs

158

7

Moral Agents and the Presentation of Virtue

201

Bibliography Index of Ancient Sources Index of Authors and Topics

222 231 244

vii

Tables

3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 4.1 6.1

Aristotle’s moral virtues Moral virtues in Proverbs Passages for moral virtues in Proverbs The virtue of liberality Comparison of proverbial and Aristotelian virtues Theological virtues

viii

page 50 59 60 70 97 167

Preface

This book began as a side project during my doctoral studies at the University of Cambridge and soon became much more than that. It resulted in an accretion of disciplines – classical studies and some historical theology, in addition to my native biblical studies – that can produce results which are more problematic than productive. Disciplines can clash, and there is a high risk of anachronism and exegetical contortion when attempting to bridge ideas from various times or cultures, all of which is further complicated when these ideas seem to be the property of modern, segregated, academic disciplines. But, as a part of a longstanding relationship between the Bible and philosophy, something has brought each of these interests together, and that thing is virtue. The word itself may sound fashionable, and the same could be said of several others found in the book’s title – “virtue ethics” and the “integration” of multiple disciplines. But be assured that this subject is not a fad, if not chiefly because theologians and biblical scholars from antiquity, and increasingly so in the modern period, have been adamant that biblical and philosophical materials were not always at odds but even sometimes in harmony. For if there is something artificial about interdisciplinary work, there is certainly nothing modern about it. I owe special thanks to Drs. Richard Oosterhoff and Jon Thompson for introducing me to several good books, without which the current project would have been unimaginable. Beatrice Rehl, at Cambridge University Press, received a draft of this work with serious consideration and has not ceased to be encouraging. Essential also were two anonymous and conscientious reviewers, who improved my argument in several places, and the efforts of Eric Christianson, who helped with many stages ix

x

Preface

of production; any remaining shortcomings are my own. My brother was a great encouragement in the writing process and influenced the manuscript at several points, while my wife has been most supportive of all. Lastly, I am grateful to Eton College, which granted funding for aspects of this work, and where virtue is of daily importance for the boys I teach and colleagues that I work with.

Note on Texts and Translation

Unless otherwise specified, all translations of Hebrew, German, and French are my own; Classical Greek texts and quotations come from the Loeb Classical Library, with any of my own revisions to the translation being noted, and Egyptian extracts come from Lichtheim’s Ancient Egyptian Literature. Regular reference is made to Aquinas’ Summa Theologica as ST, with respective parts specified as I, I–II, II–II, and III, objections as “arg,” responses to objections as “ad,” and prologues as “pr.” For instance, I–II 49.2 ad 3 refers to the first part of the second part, question 49, article 2, response to objection 3. Translation of the Latin ST is cited from the second and revised edition of 1920, translated by the Fathers of the English Dominican Province (London: Burns Oates & Washbourne). Lastly, when the Hebrew MT and English verse numbers differ, the English are placed in brackets: e.g., Exod 22:3[4] is Exod 22: HEB[ENG].

xi

Abbreviations

AB AEL

AIL AnBib AOTC ATD BBRSupp BCOT BDB BKAT BZAW CBQ CBR EE ESV FAT HSM HTR ICC JBL JNSL

Anchor Bible Miriam Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Book of Readings, 3 vols. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973–1980 Ancient Israel and Its Literature Analecta biblica Apollos Old Testament Commentary Das Alte Testament Deutsch Supplements to the Bulletin for Biblical Research Baker Commentary on the Old Testament F. Brown, S. R. Driver, and C. Briggs, Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament. Oxford: Clarendon, 1959 Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Catholic Biblical Quarterly Currents in Biblical Research Eudemian Ethics English Standard Version Forschung zum Alten Testament Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Theological Review International Critical Commentary Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages

xii

List of Abbreviations JSOT JSOTSupp JTISupp KJV LCL LHBOTS LXX MS(S) MT

NASB NE NICOT NIDOTTE

NIV NLT NRSV OBO OTE QV SBL SDBH

ST TDOT

TLOT

TS

xiii

Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplements to the Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplements to the Journal of Theological Interpretation King James Version Loeb Classical Library The Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies Septuagint: using Septuaginta, ed. A. Rahlfs. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2006. manuscript(s) Masoretic Text: using Biblica Hebraica Stuttgartensia, ed. K. Elliger and W. Rudolph. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1977. New American Standard Bible Nicomachean Ethics The New International Commentary on the Old Testament New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis, ed. Willem A. VanGemeren, 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997 New International Version New Living Translation New Revised Standard Version Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis Old Testament Essays Disputed Questions on Virtue Society of Biblical Literature Semantic Dictionary of Biblical Hebrew, ed. Reinier de Blois. United Bible Societies, 2000– (http:// semanticdictionary.org/dictionary/main.php?language=en) Summa Theologica Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, ed. G. J. Botterweck et al., trans. D. E. Green et al., 15 vols. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974–2015 Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament, ed. E. Jenni and C. Westermann, trans. M. E. Biddle, 3 vols. Peabody: Hendrickson, 1997 Theological Studies

xiv

TWOT

VT WBC ZAW

List of Abbreviations Bruce K. Waltke, R. Laird Harris, and Gleason Archer, Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament. Chicago: Moody, 1980 Vetus Testamentum Word Bible Commentary Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft

1 Introduction

[The advantages of virtue] are easy to observe from the contests of Heracles and the works of Theseus, whose manner of virtue has impressed upon their works so great a stamp of glory that not even all time is able to cast oblivion upon their deeds.1

The notion of virtue occupied the minds of many in ancient Greece and was pursued with similar enthusiasm by Christian figures in the centuries that followed. As Isocrates admired, virtuous character could leave a glorious imprint upon one’s deeds, and yet it also left an impression upon the intellect of ancient writers, who developed what is now called “virtue ethics.” Certain biblical scholars have set their hopes on writing a “chapter in the history of ethics” based on the literature of ancient Israel and have particularly gestured toward the book of Proverbs as the voice of virtue within that history.2 Some have even attempted to square Proverbs with virtue ethics, arguing that the book is best understood as a form of Socratic moral philosophy,3 with others seeing Aristotle as a more suitable model, and still others contending that Thomistic virtues “fit the book’s moral teaching.”4 But attempts to align Proverbs with a particular theory of virtue remain incomplete, and the question of if and how the 1 2 3

4

Isocrates, To Demonicus 8 (my translation). John Barton, Ethics in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 1–2. Michael V. Fox, “Ethics and Wisdom in the Book of Proverbs,” Hebrew Studies 48 (2009): 75–88. See, respectively, Christopher Ansberry, “What Does Jerusalem Have to Do with Athens? The Moral Vision of the Book of Proverbs and Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics,” Hebrew Studies 51 (2010): 157–173; Daniel J. Treier, Proverbs and Ecclesiastes (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2011), 66–102. I use the terms “moral” and “ethical” interchangeably.

1

2

Introduction

book might impress its own glorious or less-than-glorious stamp upon the backstory of virtue ethics remains to be seen. Most of all, the task requires an engagement with moral philosophy not yet exploited. In this monograph, I establish the book of Proverbs as a tradition of virtue ethics. Virtue ethics is, most simply, a subset of moral philosophy that determines what is good and what humans should do based upon the personal character of a virtuous exemplar. Rather than law or consequence, it is character that governs ethical questions. For some, it was the “wise,” for others, “the silent man” and for many who took religious Scripture as in some way authoritative for morality, it was God himself who exemplified what was right and good. If we were virtue ethicists determining what ought to be done in a particular situation, we would not necessarily do what the law says or what will result in the most good for the most people; we would do what the virtuous person would do, even be as the virtuous person would be, which in turn contributes to a larger notion of the good. In other words, virtues of character govern moral inquiry – courage, patience, honesty, and so on – and inform what humans ought to do and who they ought to become. Notions of character have become quite popular among interpreters of Proverbs as a way of explaining the book’s moral landscape. According to many, the holistic possession of “virtues” and the self’s trajectory toward moral maturation form essential pieces of a character-driven ethic for the book.5 This movement of character is found by some in the reader’s ambition to be like the “wise man” or the “excellent wife,” in the pupil’s journey from tutee (Proverbs 1–9) to ruling king (31:1–9), or in the simple hope that by mulling over certain proverbs we might become better people. Though commendable, it is within these efforts that a problematic assumption has been made: that the virtues as defined by many philosophers over the course of many years align with certain concepts in the book of Proverbs; that “justice” in Proverbs is comparable to “justice” in the NE or that Proverbial “faith” resembles what Thomas Aquinas called an “assent” to divinely revealed truth.6 The assumption is not surprising given the depictions of fear, truth-telling, and other such traits in Proverbs

5

6

See, e.g., William P. Brown, Wisdom’s Wonder: Character, Creation, and Crisis in the Bible’s Wisdom Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014), 30–38. See the literature referenced in Chapters 3 and 6. I use “Proverbial” to refer to “of Proverbs,” in contrast to “proverbial” as something well known and perhaps stereotypical.

Moral Traditions

3

that seem to correspond, for instance, with Aristotelian courage and honesty. Even more enticing are the characters that norm Proverbial ethics, the “wise” or “diligent” person, who seem to dovetail quite well with Aristotle’s “prudent man” and his standard-setting way of life. And to this we could add the theological attire that covers all of Proverbs, which may look very much like the ethics of Thomism. However, the assumption that the “virtues” of Proverbs resemble the virtues of moral philosophy, as spelled out by Aristotle or Aquinas or any other philosopher, does justice to none of these sources and actually oversimplifies a nuanced and historically contextualized conception of their respective moral visions. Instead of assuming that the concepts in Proverbs reflect the virtues laid down by moral philosophers, I consult with Aristotle and Aquinas in order to determine what exactly they had in mind when speaking of “virtue.” It is their definitions and their criteria for what is and is not a virtue that, when used to interpret the book of Proverbs, consequently reveal how Proverbs conceives of virtue and what virtues it may promote, and it is by articulating these discoveries that Proverbs is expressed as a moral tradition. So instead of asserting that “justice” in Proverbs refers to a moral virtue in the way that “justice” did for Aristotle, I begin with Aristotle’s notion of justice and its many contextual trappings to see if and how justice in Proverbs constitutes a virtue. This book, then, is about Proverbs, about the possibility of its moral concepts being virtues, and about how these virtues do and do not resemble those of Aristotle and Aquinas. In it I argue that Proverbs contains its own list of Aristotelian moral virtues and vices, and also portrays faith, hope, and love like Thomistic theological virtues. By interpreting Proverbs with the definitions and language of moral philosophers, the distinctive features, shortcomings, and advantages of its ethical vision can be brought to bear on the history of moral philosophy in a way previously unattainable. By way of further introduction, the meaning of “moral tradition” needs to be explained and a method for reckoning biblical studies with moral philosophy detailed.

moral traditions Alasdair MacIntyre has pioneered the idea of “tradition” within moral philosophy. Each ethical theory constitutes a tradition of moral inquiry best understood as “an historically extended, socially embodied argument, and an argument precisely in part about the goods which constitute

4

Introduction

that tradition.”7 In other words, traditions dispute about goods within particular historical and social contexts. For example, Homer offered a set of virtues within a particular social context that Aristotle modified into his own set of virtues, placing them, whether consciously or subconsciously, within new social and historical contexts. In this way, both brands of virtue – Homeric and Aristotelian – are distinct moral traditions. But these distinctions occur at different levels, so that virtue ethics as a whole is one tradition within moral philosophy, being distinct from utilitarianism and deontology, whilst within virtue ethics itself various traditions also exist, such as Homeric and Aristotelian. With multiple moral traditions identified, the question then becomes one of how to settle disagreements between them.8 How exactly did Aristotle “develop” the Homeric conception of virtue? How did competing theories of morality resolve their rivalry? And how do we validly defend our own choice of tradition and responsibly interact with the alternatives? Answering these questions entails a discussion of how traditions arise, interact, develop, and disintegrate, along with a detailed description of their components, which have been said to include no less than the following: a set of first principles, historical embodiment, authoritative texts, institutions, standards of rational justification, shared problems and disputes, social expression through hierarchy, conceptions of the self, virtues, and metaphysical cosmologies.9 Taken together, these form a moral tradition. To establish Proverbs as a moral tradition, I draw attention to four elements in MacIntyre’s definition. First, since traditions are historically and socially embodied, the original cultural and intellectual contexts of Proverbs must be accounted for. These contexts are not only necessary for describing Proverbs but also for explaining why it differs from or resembles other traditions, even if these other traditions never came into contact with it. Second, traditions have authoritative texts, which form the primary sources of evidence for my study. The book of Proverbs represents one text within the Hebrew tradition of moral inquiry; Aristotle’s works will determine Aristotelian virtue ethics; Aquinas’ writings will represent his moral thought; and so on. Third, each tradition determines a set of

7

8 9

Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory, 3rd ed. (repr. 1981; London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 257. So Alasdair MacIntyre, Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (London: Duckworth, 1988). MacIntyre, Whose Justice?, esp. 7, 12, 326, 349, 390–391. For further discussion of and possible objections to this idea, see the end of Chapter 2.

Moral Traditions

5

virtues and standard for them. It is these virtues and their defining criteria that produce the primary comparative data for my inquiry, as they are exhumed from moral philosophers and then applied to the book of Proverbs. Finally, the first principles and the conceptions of final good(s) within each tradition are examined, notions that provide explanatory power when comparing traditions as well as comparative categories in their own right. In short, based on authoritative texts, I determine the criteria and catalogue of virtues from selected moral philosophies that are then used to examine Proverbs in order to produce its own set of virtues. When comparing the virtues of Proverbs with philosophical virtues, I appeal to historical, social, and cultural contexts, first principles, basic beliefs, and conceptions of the good in order to explain the similarities and especially the differences between traditions. For example, if Aristotle’s specific criteria for “justice” cohere with conceptions of justice in Proverbs, then this concept in Proverbs is a virtue in the Aristotelian sense. Any differences in how Aristotle and Proverbs treat justice are then outlined and, by appealing to their respective contexts and first principles, explained. This will begin to put a stop to suggestions like those of Joseph Blenkinsopp’s, who has criticized the editors and authors of Proverbs, because “Their teaching is, at best, sclerotic and pedestrian and, at worst, complaisant and ethically insensitive on a whole range of issues. Their vision is limited and their language constrained by the social class to which they belong, the ethos of which they are committed to uphold and perpetuate.”10 Once understood as a tradition, Proverbs’ ethical vision is anything but limited; it is wider, looser, and even more accommodating than some interpreters have let it be. Its social context is tantamount for appreciating its ethical sensitivity, and when compared with the NE, Proverbs takes on a dynamic all its own. This monograph, then, not only describes the “virtues” of Proverbs but reveals how and why Proverbs thinks about ethics, in view of its cultural context and alternative moral traditions, and in this way establishes the book as a moral tradition. From this discussion, it is evident that by establishing Proverbs as a moral tradition I do more than place it into conversation with other philosophical texts and compare them. Comparative work may fall on a spectrum, one end simply placing the respective material side by side and assuming that the reader infers the significance of any overlap or variance, 10

Joseph Blenkinsopp, Sage, Priest, Prophet: Religious and Intellectual Leadership in Ancient Israel, Library of Ancient Israel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1995), 36.

6

Introduction

with the other end explaining each commonality with a complex theory of literary and intellectual dependence.11 These two extremes are avoided by using the criteria and concepts of moral philosophers to dictate the representation of Proverbs as a moral tradition. In other words, philosophical definitions of virtue will operate as the authoritative lens for interpreting Proverbs, which will in turn render its own, objective moral tradition, albeit in the language and categories of philosophical moral thought. Proverbs does stand on its own, and its language and structure will at times resist those of moral philosophers, but such distinctions cannot be determined without using particular philosophical notions of virtue as the control for interpreting the book. Otherwise we run the risk of assuming that Aristotelian virtues – e.g., courage, liberality, and gentleness – are the same as similar concepts in Proverbs, overlooking the fact that Aristotle had very particular notions in mind that may differ substantially from what Proverbs envisioned. Therefore, conceptions of virtue form the common ground upon which Proverbs and moral philosophy are examined. But before delineating the Aristotelian and Thomistic views of virtue, two issues need to be addressed: the precise nature of how moral philosophy and biblical studies have interacted, and potential objections to the proposed method of interaction.

“philosophical” interpretation of the old testament The OT, in part or in whole, is not widely recognized as a moral tradition. When a history of ethics begins, it often starts with Socrates and a selection of Greek figures who predated him, the “pre-Socratics,” without mention of ancient Jewish thinkers or texts.12 Similar comments could be made about the NT, especially the writings of the apostle Paul, which, although it forms the foundation of a Christian moral tradition, itself receives little attention in the discussion of moral theory. Although the Jewish backdrop of Paul’s ethics might turn a few heads when it obviously influences the interpretation of his theological remarks, in its own right the OT does not have a place at the table of moral philosophy. The silence

11

12

These extremes appear, respectively, in the works of Seizo¯ Sekine (A Comparative Study of the Origins of Ethical Thought: Hellenism and Hebraism, trans. J. Wakabayashi [New York: Sheed & Ward, 2005]) and Russell Gmirkin (Plato and the Creation of the Hebrew Bible [New York; London: Routledge, 2017]). For a list of overviews of philosophy, see Yoram Hazony (The Philosophy of Hebrew Scripture [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012], 17–18, 279 n. 45).

“Philosophical” Interpretation of the Old Testament

7

between the Hebrew tradition and the discipline of moral philosophy is due at least to the fact that the biblical material has rarely been used to inform recent theories of virtue ethics, a problem that manifests itself within both philosophical and biblical disciplines. Moral philosophers seem loath to incorporate the Bible into their theories of virtue. MacIntyre, for instance, has promoted Thomistic thought as the best account of rational inquiry, and while that warrants a reflection on biblical or at least theological material, these sources seem to play no substantial part in the endeavor.13 Instead, Aquinas is suited with his Aristotelian past and little is offered by way of theological reflection on virtue. So rather than rivaling the Greek moral tradition with biblical viewpoints, Christian moral thought, or what by all means seems to be Christian moral thought, remains in the line of the Greeks. This is a convenient scheme if one is writing a philosophical history, but it may very well leave out Jewish and Christian Scripture, not to mention Aquinas’ grounding in it.14 The problem within the field of moral philosophy correlates to one type of problem within the field of OT studies. The OT has been described as a “work of philosophy” and insightful interpretations of its ethical views have been pursued to show that the biblical material makes claims of a general nature for a universal audience.15 It has broad appeal and

13

14

15

So Alasdair MacIntyre, The Tasks of Philosophy: Selected Essays, Volume 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 184–192. See also his Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry: Encyclopaedia, Genealogy, and Tradition (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 1990). So Stanley Hauerwas and Charles Pinches, Christians among the Virtues: Theological Conversations with Ancient and Modern Ethics (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1977), 190 n. 11. Many of those who call for biblical integration, whilst attempting to develop virtue theories from a “biblical” standpoint, remain within the theological realm, making limited use of biblical texts and rarely, if ever, the OT. Hauerwas mentions the OT story and includes brief comments on particular NT verses and books (A Community of Character: Toward a Constructive Christian Social Ethic [Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1981], 46–52, 67–68, 70; Christians, 14–16, 43–48, 144–148). See also Michael Lawler and Todd Salzman, “Virtue Ethics: Natural and Christian,” TS 74 (2013): 442–473; William Spohn, “The Return of Virtue Ethics,” TS 53 (1992): 60–75; Joseph Kotva, Jr., The Christian Case for Virtue Ethics, Moral Traditions & Moral Arguments (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1996); Jean Porter, “Virtue Ethics,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Ethics, 2nd ed., ed. Robin Gill (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 87–102. For a thoughtful but not unproblematic response to Christian theories of virtue, see Harry Bunting, “Ethics and the Perfect Moral Law,” Tyndale Bulletin 51 (2000): 235–260. See Hazony, Philosophy (quotation from 273). See also Shira Weiss (Ethical Ambiguity in the Hebrew Bible: Philosophical Analysis of Scriptural Narrative [Cambridge: Cambridge

8

Introduction

makes somewhat timeless moral offerings rather than confined and revelatory prescriptions targeted toward a single religious community. This approach, taken by scholars like Yoram Hazony, guards against readers who impose “philosophical” ideas upon the Bible and aims to let the text speak on its own terms, revealing that it already makes claims of a philosophical nature. That may remain sensitive to the literary and historical contexts of the OT, but the approach is limited because it fails to adequately interact in detail with other philosophical works, so that identifying concepts like “natural law” within the narratives of Genesis and spotting various descriptions of epistemological activities within Isaiah, which harbor great potential for philosophical-biblical reflection, facilitate limited interaction between traditional philosophical disciplines and the OT.16 Those who do interact with the details of philosophical theory unfortunately overlook the literary and social contexts of OT texts.17 In other words, the pendulum swings too far. Bold theories have been presented by scholars such as Jaco Gericke for how the Bible might be understood through the lens of what has traditionally been considered philosophy. Examples include the nature of religious language, the concept of revelation, the nature and properties of Yahweh, and implicit arguments for and against the realism of ancient Near Eastern gods. And yet no method for interpreting the Bible on its own terms is established. The text is treated from both synchronic and diachronic perspectives, certain

16 17

University Press, 2018]), who begins to engage with deeper philosophical analysis but still inclines towards Hazony’s approach and limits her study to OT narrative. Blenkinsopp (Sage, esp. 9–48) has also identified portions of the OT as “traditions” and does so from a diachronic perspective that traces the emergence of various “intellectual” traditions, such as the scribal, legal, and prophetic. For discussions in the eighteenth century, particularly among German scholars, which engaged philosophy and the concept of OT wisdom, see Will Kynes, An Obituary for “Wisdom Literature”: The Birth, Death, and Intertextual Reintegration of a Biblical Corpus (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 82–104. See, e.g., Hazony, Philosophy, 87, 104. Jaco Gericke, The Hebrew Bible and Philosophy of Religion, SBL Resources for Biblical Study (Atlanta: SBL, 2012), 201. He (232) names the following philosophical “loci”: nature of religion in a Book; nature of religious language; concept of revelation; nature and properties of Yahweh; implicit arguments for and against realism regarding gods; relation between religion and morality; nature of religious experiences; relation between religion and history; relation of religion and culture; religion and science; religious epistemology; religious pluralism. Gericke provides a thorough account of the literature that addresses the integration of OT and philosophy, broadly understood (see also his “Is There Philosophy in the Hebrew Bible? Some Recent Affirmative Perspectives,” Journal for Semitics 23 [2014]: 583–598).

“Philosophical” Interpretation of the Old Testament

9

historical-critical conclusions are assumed, and the rhetorical functions of certain biblical genres are overlooked. Although any one of these interpretive decisions is warranted, one consequence is not: when methods that overlook the literary and historical textures of the Bible too easily cater to the interpreter’s preferences rather than the text’s. Gericke and Hazony incline toward opposite ends of a spectrum: one end imposes philosophical categories on the Bible; the other end insufficiently accounts for philosophical works. Where Gericke embraces philosophical categories to the neglect of literarily and historically sensitive biblical interpretation, Hazony is highly sensitive to literary aspects of the Bible and yet interacts very little with philosophical disciplines. I propose an alternative, middle way for facilitating interaction between the Bible and philosophical texts, which, in practice, several scholars have started to sound out.18 Rather than appealing to general concepts of philosophy, such as “epistemology” or “the good,” ideas must be extracted from particular philosophical works in detail and used as instruments for interpreting the Bible. At the same time, the genre of OT texts and the cultural contexts that inform them must be judiciously accounted for when approaching the Bible from a philosophical angle.19 To these ends, ahistorical readings and literarily insensitive interpretation are guarded against, and a method for utilizing philosophical texts established. This study advances the philosophical interpretation of the OT by focusing on Proverbs, a book palpable in moral concepts, and by giving unabridged attention to moral philosophy and contextually sensitive biblical interpretation.

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19

In his comparison of Greek and Hebrew ethics, Sekine (A Comparative Study) has approached a possible middle way between Hazony and Gericke. His book ambitiously incorporates material from the Pentateuch and Writings, and features the NE, and yet with about 25 pages dedicated to Proverbs his definitions of Aristotle’s terminology remain imprecise and his comparison of Greek and Hebrew material lacks historicalcontextual explanation. More positively, see Dru Johnson, Epistemology and Biblical Theology: From the Pentateuch to Mark’s Gospel, Routledge Interdisciplinary Perspectives on Biblical Criticism 4 (New York: Routledge, 2018), esp. 1–10; his work is perhaps the nearest attempt to articulate something like what I am proposing here. See also Patricia Vesely, Friendship and Virtue Ethics in the Book of Job (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019); Alan L. Mittleman, A Short History of Jewish Ethics: Conduct and Character in the Context of Covenant (Chichester: WileyBlackwell, 2012), 16–45. The book of Proverbs will be considered in its final form, since this best serves the objectives of the project, though some attention is given to text-critical issues within the footnotes.

10

Introduction

objections My hopes to attend to the details of moral philosophy and to use them as the authoritative lens for interpreting Proverbs immediately confront the question of why this sequence has been chosen. Why interpret the OT through the lens of philosophy rather than interpreting philosophy through the lens of the OT? Instead of delineating criteria for Aristotelian virtue and determining whether these appear in Proverbs, criteria could be found for a biblical concept of humility and then used to interpret Aristotle, for instance. A more severe version of this objection says, “Why not interpret the Old Testament ‘philosophically’ without the help of philosophers?” I start with philosophy for four reasons. (1) As mentioned, certain biblical interpreters assume that Proverbs contains virtues as defined by moral philosophers. To evaluate the conclusions of these interpreters, the philosophical sources themselves must be closely examined rather than ignored or treated as secondary. (2) The objection stems from the assumption that the OT can be interpreted “philosophically” or “as philosophy” without the aid of recognized philosophical works. If we rid ourselves of philosophy altogether, leaving only the OT, how do we justify that it addresses “philosophical questions”? When pressed to answer what “philosophically” means, interpreters might validly defend definitions that are broad, divergent, and perhaps incompatible with each other, and thus I propose to anchor a “philosophical” approach by selecting specific philosophical works.20 Although selection limits my study, it nevertheless makes it controlled and incisive. (3) The OT will be used to interpret philosophical works, but only as its characteristic elements arise through comparison with those works. After using philosophical texts to illuminate certain features of the OT, those biblical features can then challenge such philosophies, which leads to the final point: (4) I am not concerned to show that the OT is a “philosophical” work but rather to establish its views of morality with the help of key philosophers and then to show that it contends, in many cases 20

This is not to devalue the plurality of approaches to OT-philosophy research. Consider the miscellany of definitions for “philosophy” within this field: “the exercise of those operations of the human mind by which general causes are derived from experience, elaborated as laws and principles that are likewise general in character, and applied to particular cases” (Hazony, Philosophy, 272; he refrains from distinguishing “philosophy” from “reason”); “second-order thinking,” that is, “thinking about our thinking” (see the 2017 conference at Aarhus University: “Second Order Thinking in the Ancient Fertile Crescent”); definitions derived from the disciplines of analytic, phenomenological, or comparative philosophy (Gericke, Hebrew Bible, 116).

Objections

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successfully, with these philosophers. How a “work of theology” or “philosophy” is defined matters little for my venture in interpreting a particular set of texts and comparing their moral visions. If the OT indeed challenges traditions of virtue and overcomes any of their problems, it must be interpreted in the language of these alternative traditions. These responses prompt a final consideration about the justification for my choice of particular interlocutors. Choosing Aristotle as a representative of moral philosophy is warranted on two accounts. First, it has been argued that Aristotelian, more than Socratic, ethics provides a useful model for understanding the moral vision of Proverbs.21 The visions of Aristotle and Proverbs do not equate, but they do correspond in their treatment of character and practical wisdom. Within this line of sight, Aristotelian moral virtues target actions and emotions, which are rife in Proverbs and especially pressing for those interested in its affective remarks: “In many respects, the book of Proverbs is a manual of desires, for much of the book turns on identifying what humans desire, what they should desire, and where those desires may lead.”22 For much of the recent talk about Proverbs and desire, Aristotelian ethics is well-suited, if not imperative. But by featuring Aristotle, whilst accounting for Socrates in my preliminary chapter, a new evaluation of the current debate can be had, and the concluding chapter of this work will revisit the question of which moral philosopher is most suitable for Proverbs. Second, Aristotle’s account of virtue has garnered a following, albeit not uncritical, among ancient and contemporary moral philosophers, and therefore makes him a reliable representative of virtue ethics.23 The choice to use Aquinas raises a slightly different question: Did he not already do what I am proposing? Aquinas composed a moral philosophy that accounted for Scripture, drawing, for instance, on Aristotle’s moral and intellectual virtues to supplement them with theological virtues based on biblical texts like 1 Cor 13:13 and Wis 8:7 (I–II 57.5; 62.3–4). “And now faith, hope and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love”; “[Divine Wisdom] teaches temperance and prudence, justice and courage; nothing in life is more profitable for mortals than these.” Aquinas 21

22

23

Ansberry, “What Does Jerusalem.” So Barton (Ethics) noted above. See the discussion in Chapters 3 and 7. Anne Stewart, Poetic Ethics in Proverbs: Wisdom Literature and the Shaping of the Moral Self (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 136–137. ST I–II 21.2; MacIntyre, After Virtue, 177, 231–232; Rosalind Hursthouse, On Virtue Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 11, 101, 183–186. See also the works of Thomas Hurka and Philippa Foot.

12

Introduction

integrated Scripture and virtue ethics, deliberately placing himself in the traditions of both Aristotle and the Bible.24 This fact, however, does not counter the present investigation; it rather validates it. Aquinas was one of many who combined these fields of study and did so with an approach quite different to my own, consequently fortifying the hope that such connections call for further exploration. Prior to Aquinas and as early as the second century BCE, Ben Sira and the Wisdom of Solomon integrated the OT and Greek philosophy.25 Ben Sira combined allusions to biblical literature (especially Proverbs), Jewish views of morality, and Greek philosophical and literary traditions, melding these ideas, developing them, and critiquing them, primarily in a poetic mode. A few hundred years later, the Wisdom of Solomon merged similar texts and topics, albeit with less explicit interaction in moral subjects. Whilst neither Ben Sira nor the Wisdom of Solomon feature in this study, they are exemplars of inquiry that integrated moral philosophy and the book of Proverbs. On the one hand, I endeavor to push this inquiry back further than they did, to the time of Aristotle’s and Proverbs’ composition.26 On the other hand, I intend to extend it later, to the time of Aquinas and modern moral philosophers. By interpreting the OT with the help of ancient and modern philosophical works, I revive inquiry into the moral philosophy of the OT, make fresh discoveries within ancient texts, and pioneer a mode of study that bridges contemporary disciplines.

chapter outline The aims presented here unfold over the course of six chapters. Chapter 2 tells a story of virtue ethics by outlining the works and ideas of pertinent moral philosophers as a foundation for the chapters that follow. It spans from ancient Athens to the twenty-first century and gives close attention to Socrates, Aristotle, Aquinas, and MacIntyre. In Chapter 3, which accounts for all of the material in Proverbs but focuses on chapters 10–29, I first argue that the book’s moral instructions cohere with 24 25

26

For Aquinas’ use of Proverbs, see Chapter 6. A case can also be made for the Letter of Aristeas, which envisioned Mosaic law as a tutor in virtue (144–145, 150–151). For a broad survey of post-Aristotelian work in theology and virtue, see Porter, “Virtue Ethics.” It seems most plausible that Proverbs was composed and edited from the tenth to the third centuries BCE.

Chapter Outline

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Aristotle’s understanding of moral virtue and vice, including his notion of the mean. That is, certain concepts in Proverbs reflect virtues and vices in the Aristotelian sense, and it is exactly seven actions and four emotions that do so, along with four types of human speech. The fourth and fifth chapters compare this Proverbial virtue list with Aristotle’s. These chapters explore the underlying factors that explain the content and features of both lists, such as the relatively high concentration of instructions about speech in Proverbs and the shared concern with honor in Proverbs and the NE. Meanwhile, Chapters 4–5 also account for the material in Proverbs that seems incompatible with Aristotelian virtue, such as the categorical prohibition against adultery. Ultimately, focus is stayed on five topics – honor (and its siblings of shame, humility and pride), courage, work, speech, and friendship – and credence is given to the contexts that explain moral traditions, namely, the social, historical and theological. Honor and shame, along with related ideas of humility and pride, appear in Chapter 4, whilst courage, work, speech, and friendship are discussed in Chapter 5. Aristotle’s moral virtues were reconceptualized by Aquinas, who then developed the notion of theological virtue, and in Chapter 6 it is argued that his notions of faith, hope, and charity bear a resemblance to certain theological concepts in Proverbs. The case for Thomistic virtue focuses on the Proverbial texts that most clearly feature the theological virtues (Proverbs 1–3; 30:1–9) and those that support and qualify my initial conclusions (Proverbs 10–29). Respectively, then, Chapters 3–6 generate a list of Aristotelian moral virtues and Thomistic theological virtues from the book of Proverbs, along with an explanation regarding the nature of these virtues, to establish Proverbs as a tradition of virtue ethics. Chapter 7 then sounds out some of the hallmarks of this tradition, such as character and desire, human nature and the human problem, and attractive in-roads for further study. Before exploring Proverbs as a moral tradition in its own right, I begin with a story about virtue.

2 Views of Virtue in Philosophy

The story of virtue ethics as an established moral tradition begins with Socrates and progresses with Aristotle, Aquinas, and a number of more recent moral philosophers. Although the story within this chapter will make necessary omissions, it is driven by a series of questions for each figure: How does he conceive of the definition of virtue, its source and cultivation, the nature of human beings, the human problem, and theology? Each philosopher intended to answer such questions, even if briefly, as in the case of Aristotle’s thoughts on theology, and yet at the same time each was doing so in different contexts and with varied aims. Aristotle was concerned to furnish a moral theory that served the polis; Aquinas wished to counter Islamic answers to theological questions; recent philosophers have counterbalanced a scale weighted toward deontological and utilitarian ethics. Nevertheless, each of the authors in this chapter responded to figures within a tradition of inquiry, of which “virtue” formed a central part, answering similar questions about ethics and identifying themselves as associated with that tradition. Each of their questions about virtue is integral to moral philosophy and collectively provide an introduction to virtue ethics, one tailored to my purposes, as debates and questions are raised here that shape the rest of the study and for that reason are indispensable to its argument. Indeed, Proverbs, and any virtues it may contain, cannot be situated within the history of virtue ethics without some rendition of that history. Therefore, this chapter contributes a bank of philosophical resources necessary for establishing the book of Proverbs as a moral tradition. The works of Aristotle and Aquinas are foundational for Chapters 3–6, and virtue’s affiliated concepts, supplied by Socrates and MacIntyre, raise larger questions for the 14

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ethics of Proverbs that are revisited throughout the study and, finally, in Chapter 7.

socrates One of the earliest Greek investigators of virtue is Socrates, and when compared to his successor Aristotle and the medieval theologian Aquinas, he creates challenges for any interested interpreter. It could be said that the study of virtue becomes more systematic and, generally, clearer with time, for the brevity and dialogic style of Socrates, despite their strengths, leave basic questions about ethics indirectly answered and sometimes in possible contradiction. Nevertheless, conclusions at first opaque can be discerned through a synoptic reading, one that synthesizes the views of various Socratic dialogues, albeit with a wariness of demanding more coherence than the texts allow.1 The texts featured here include Plato’s Meno and Protagoras. Although a comprehensive survey of Socratic virtue ethics could be given, only those topics most relevant to my interpretation of Proverbs are introduced, and to that end his views on virtue’s definition, human nature, and the human problem will persist. Socrates refers to “virtue” (ἀρετή), or “excellence,” to say that it is good and that all good things are encompassed by knowledge.2 For virtue is a kind of knowledge that endows something with the goodness necessary to attain its end, that is, to achieve success. For humans it secures happiness by making the soul’s properties good (see Meno 87c–d; 88c–e); it rightly guides the soul and in that sense transforms it. By enabling one to be good and thereby attain its end, virtue aligns with right function – the virtuous ruler governs a city well; the virtuous mother rules her household rightly (71e–73a; 91a) – meaning that the good man can be described as a useful man (98c). With virtue he fulfills his function, attains his right end, and does so by means of a virtue-informed soul. For Socrates, then, virtue is a kind of knowledge that constitutes the human faculties as good.

1

2

On this, see Jacob Klein, A Commentary on Plato’s Meno (repr. 1965; London: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 9. The primary terms for knowledge – φρόνησις (prudence), ἐπιστήμη (knowledge), σοφία (wisdom) – may hold distinct meanings elsewhere in Plato’s writings and classical literature, but in the context of Socrates’ discussions on virtue, they carry consistently similar definitions. See Klein, Commentary, 219, 248–252.

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Views of Virtue in Philosophy

Understanding virtue also entails understanding how it is acquired and cultivated. On the one hand, humans have no virtue from birth and must be taught it (Meno 89a–c), and yet, on the other hand, they do naturally desire the ultimate good, that is, εὐδαιμονία (77b–78b). So although they are not good by nature, humans naturally pursue what has been thought of as “happiness,” “prosperity,” or more recently “flourishing.”3 Given that propensity, what keeps humans from living virtuously? The problem centers on knowledge and becomes clear in the notion of “deliberate action.” As outlined by Terry Penner, Socrates’ process of “deliberate action” begins with (1) a generalized desire for the good through the best means available, which incorporates (2) beliefs about what action will produce the desired good, until finally (3) desire resurfaces, this time directed toward that particular action.4 Deliberate action moves from generalized desire, to beliefs centered on action, to desire for that particular action. This calculated perspective leads Socrates to claim that those who err from good do so because of ignorance. No one desires evil and therefore no one does evil willingly. Evil is done because someone does not know what is good to do. They believe the evil to be good and they err because they do not know what is truly good, that is, because they are ignorant (77b–78b). Amidst the view that knowledge is central to moral decision-making, one finds no malfunction in desire. Socrates’ interlocutors state that desire for pleasure sometimes masters the man of knowledge (Prot. 357c), gaining the upper hand and overcoming him and his reasoned ways, a premise that Socrates altogether rejects. For him, moral choice depends upon one’s knowledge of good and evil, and that knowledge-centric view of virtue results in part from his anthropology. For rather than pain, pleasure, fear, or love, it is knowledge that governs the human being, as voiced by Protagoras: “that knowledge is something noble and able to govern man, and that whoever learns what is good and what is bad will never be swayed by anything to act otherwise than as knowledge bids, and that intelligence is a sufficient succour for mankind” (Prot. 352b–c). What a human knows to be good and bad cannot be overridden by emotion or desire. Knowledge determines moral choices, and yet it not 3

4

For further references, see Meno 87–89; Euthyd. 278–280; Prot. 330–360; Gorg. 460–480. Beliefs and circumstances undergo revision based on knowledge and situational change. See Terry Penner, “Socratic Ethics and the Socratic Psychology of Action,” in The Cambridge Companion to Socrates, ed. D. Morrison (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 261–264.

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only governs but also causes that action. If accurate, then, knowledge of the good causes humans to act rightly, and if led by appearance, deeming as good something that is actually evil, knowledge causes humans to err.5 The assumption is that we act only because we perceive something to be good, and that whether truly good or apparently good, it looks good to us and thus we desire it. For everyone, according to Socrates, knows that evil harms rather than helps us and therefore no one “does evil willingly.” Virtue is knowledge that rightly guides the human faculties, constituting neutral powers as good powers, which cannot succumb to feelings. Such guidance dovetails with Socrates’ teleological anthropology, where exercising virtue correlates to a human achieving his or her proper function. In short, one acquires a knowledge of what is truly good – he acquires virtue – leading one to feel right, to fulfill one’s proper role, and to use all other objects for their correct ends. Despite their interpretive challenges, the Socratic dialogues furnish a Socratic vision of virtue. For Socrates, virtue is a kind of knowledge that constitutes human faculties as good. It is acquired and cultivated through teaching and knowledge, and is countered by ignorance rather than affections, since it is the cognitive rather than emotional faculties that govern “deliberate action.” Some passages suggest that virtue correlates to a human achieving his or her proper function, a view that later thinkers make firm and explicit.

aristotle Aristotle agreed with Socrates on some of the basic questions about virtue: he connects a generalized desire for the good with a cooperative rationality (1.1–2; 1.7.8); his process of deliberate choice resembles the 5

Underlying this discussion is the question of whether the good for Socrates is real or apparent. Based on some statements, humans act in accord with a knowledge of what appears good to them (e.g., Prot. 358c), which is in one sense true and yet must be understood within Socrates’ larger ethical framework. He claims that the ultimate end is a real good (i.e. happiness) and that a desire for that good drives humans to deliberate about the best means by which to attain it, based on available knowledge and circumstances. That available knowledge may appear to identify good means, but it actually identifies those that are not really good. For Socrates, humans always desire the real good, and yet they believe in means that appear best, which they then desire. Apparent goods, therefore, pertain to the means supplied by knowledge, whilst desire pertains to the real good. See Penner (“Socratic Ethics,” esp. 282–285) for a fuller argument, revealing the normative status of knowledge for Socrates and his view that the final end for actions accords with a real good.

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Views of Virtue in Philosophy

cognition–desire sequence of Socrates’ “deliberate action” (3.3.15–19); and teaching receives a prominent place in the ethical process. In the main, Aristotle’s definition of virtue agrees with and supplements Socrates’ definition, so that, for example, where Socrates affirmed that virtue facilitates proper human function – such as virtuous rulers governing well (Meno 71e–73a; 91a) – Aristotle makes virtue indispensable to that function. For virtue not only renders something good but also “causes it to perform its function well.” It makes a horse itself good “and also good at galloping, at carrying its rider, and at facing the enemy” (NE 2.6.2). But what Socrates delivered through dialogue, Aristotle delivered through treatise, and a much clearer and deliberate collection of answers to the questions on virtue is discernable in his work. The NE treats the nature of virtue and the virtues themselves in an ordered fashion, positing an exacting definition for what virtue is, systematically unpacking it, and displaying its contents virtue by virtue. First moral, then intellectual. The compendium of particular virtues, arising throughout Books 3–6 of the NE, are of little interest at the moment, and it is instead with the information about virtue as such, appearing primarily in Books 2 and 6 of the NE, that I am concerned. Aristotle’s understanding of virtue, not least informed by his anthropology and theology, shows that he revised the Socratic understanding of virtue and furnished a distinct, though not antithetical, moral philosophy.

Virtue and Anthropology In the first place, Aristotle’s vocabulary of knowledge is more precise and extensive than Socrates’, as “virtue” (ἀρετή), “wisdom” (σοφία), “science” (ἐπιστήμη), and “prudence” (φρόνησις; i.e. practical wisdom) each receives its own lexeme and definition. My concern is, first, with “virtue,” which is defined by Aristotle as “a settled disposition of the mind determining the choice of actions and emotions, consisting essentially in the observance of the mean relative to us, this being determined by principle, that is, as the prudent man would determine it” (NE 2.6.15). This is Aristotle’s most loaded definition of virtue, which he expounds over the course of the NE, and although I will shortly do the same, for the moment it is the remarks about anthropology that deserve most attention. Those “dispositions” mentioned here as “a settled disposition of the mind” refer to “formed states of character” that posture one well or ill toward emotions and actions. They are each a ἕξις, translated variously as “state,”

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“disposition,” or “active condition,” and have to do with the habitual posture that one takes toward one’s self and behavior. A man with a generous disposition will posture himself rightly toward receiving 100 silver coins, prone neither to hoard it for himself nor squander it on wine and women but rather to give with liberality. His generous disposition is a good disposition and thereby a virtue. Within the remit of human dispositions fall emotions – those affections like desire or anger – and capacities (for action), which represent natural human faculties that are liable to the emotions (2.5.1–2). Hence the generous man feels rightly toward his 100 silver coins and also carries out appropriate actions with them. His constitution works in tandem, using “deliberate desire” or an interdependent operation of intellect and desire that makes choices derived from virtue (6.2.5). The elements of the human constitution resemble those described by Socrates, and although Aristotle’s process of cognitively determining goods and means and then settling desire upon those particulars resembles his method of deliberate action, a key distinction crops up. Socrates endowed intellect with authoritarian rule – desire submits to reason – so that the only flaw of reason is ignorance, which leads desire astray. But Aristotle recognizes the shortcomings of reason, which may govern badly, particularly failing to restrain one’s uninhibited desires. The man who finds himself with 100 silver coins may yield to greed not simply because he is ignorant of greed’s evil and generosity’s virtue; he may withhold his money because his desire for it and the many pleasures it can provide overrides the power of his rational mind. Humans are from birth particularly susceptible to seek pleasure, one of the many ways in which the “deliberate” element can be divorced from desire (2.3.8; 3.2.3).6 Therefore, reason may succumb not only to ignorance but also to human emotion, so that while a cooperation of reason and desire is required for right choice, unrestrained desires can cause humans to err. For Socrates, reason just governs desire and the human as a whole, while according to Aristotle, reason at times succumbs to desire and causes error.

6

Aristotle’s largely negative portrayal of desire corroborates his view that desire is a threat to right living. He associates it with children who primarily follow their appetitive element, which needs to be tempered by their rational principle (NE 3.12.9). After detailing the types of unrestraint and their relations to knowledge (7.7.8–7.8.1), he lauds self-restraint as an effective combatant against passion and desire (7.9). Cf. Aristotle’s differentiation of his view from Socrates’ (7.2.1–6).

20

Views of Virtue in Philosophy The Mean

Inseparable to his understanding of the human being, virtue for Aristotle is a disposition and determines the choice of actions and emotions. Interest now turns to this choice itself, which consists in the “observance of the mean relative to us” (2.6.15).7 Aristotle places virtue within a new landscape – the world of means and mean-states (2.6) – where emotions and actions lie upon a continuum, with deficiency on one end and excess on the other. For example, an athlete can eat either too little or too much. The right amount constitutes the “mean” (τό μέσον), which refers to that action or feeling that is in between two extremes and exactly right. Virtue, however, is not merely the right amount but a “mean-state,” “a μεσότης between two vices . . . because it is the sort of thing able to hit the μέσον in feelings and actions” (6.9.1). Virtue is not a certain degree of emotion or a force of action, and a mean in that regard, but a state that hits the mean, enabling one, that is, to feel the right way or act with the right force. Aristotle clarifies that the mean-state is relative to the individual, depending upon time, manner, place, and purpose (2.6.11). So the athlete with a μεσότης regarding his diet eats the right amount in light of all circumstantial variables, not a fixed quantity or universally “moderate” amount. A virtuous runner eats more carbohydrates than a virtuous bodybuilder, who would consume more protein than many other virtuous athletes, all of whom, in hitting the mean, consume an amount and type of food quite different than the virtuous politician. Therefore, virtue is the power to hit the correct mean while accounting for a whole set of factors (2.4.13). In order to identify and select the mean, humans need “prudence” (φρόνησις). It rightly perceives the best mean by which to achieve happiness, discerning the “right principle” (ὀρθός λόγος), to which reason and desire conform in order to attain the real good (6.9.7; 6.12.6; De Anima 3.10). According to Aristotle, the mean is difficult not only to observe but also to define and perceive (2.9.7–8), and therefore we need prudence to identify it and ensure right action. Holistically, then, prudence determines the right means for the end that moral virtues – correct dispositions of character – rightly determine (6.12.6). Unlike Socrates, who claimed that virtue operates “in accordance with” (κατα), and therefore subservient to, the right principle, Aristotle asserts that virtue operates “along with”

7

For an incisive consideration of various interpretations of this phrase, see Lesley Brown, “What Is ‘the Mean Relative to Us’ in Aristotle’s ‘Ethics’?,” Phronesis 42 (1997): 77–93.

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(μετα) right principle, incorporating both reason and desire (6.13.3–5). When compared with Socrates, Aristotle endows desire with more influence in the moral process and more systematically defends a model of ethics, yet his system is not without its problems.

Problems: Human Nature and the Source of Virtue Aristotle himself acknowledged two challenges for living within his ethical framework, which, according to him, does not contain logical flaws but discloses problems that hamper virtuous living. Both challenges, I would argue, relate to human nature. The first, noted above, is unrestrained desire, which rebels against right reason. The second is that humans struggle not only to observe the mean, but that prior to mean observance they struggle to even perceive what that mean is. Again, the mean does not represent a middle point or calculated amount of action or emotion between two extremes. It is not a fixed amount of food that is universally obligatory for all virtuous people to eat. It rather accounts for a spectrum of situational factors that determine an appropriate response, such as eating more as a bodybuilder than a politician. To successfully hit the mean, humans must identify the right people, time, place, and purpose of emotion and action, quite a challenging task, as Aristotle recognized.8 Aristotle generously admits the challenges of living within his ethical framework, but problematic issues arise within the framework itself, and one deserves discussion here. To his comments about hitting the mean, Aristotle adds, “to what degree and how seriously a man must err to be blamed is not easy to define on principle” (see NE 2.9.7–8). How much meat can a bodybuilder eat before he becomes gluttonous? How much wine can a politician drink before she is culpable of drunkenness? In reference to erring from the mean, it is not clear how much one must err to be “blameworthy,” and so Aristotle posits a solution in the faculty of prudence. Prudence, which does not err, discerns the mean by identifying right feeling or action and thereby enabling the human to hit it, forming a faculty fundamental to Aristotle’s vision of virtue. In this respect, prudence is a way that one pinpoints truth, the truth about what 8

These shortcomings imply a third challenge, particularly for children. If a lack of training or education results in wrong action, and if feelings of pleasure and pain drive human action and so require proper direction from childhood (NE 2.3.1–2), then uneducated youths pose a challenge to attaining virtue. As youths, also, humans lack the experience that apparently cultivates prudence (6.8.5).

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constitutes the mean, and yet Aristotle has suspiciously little to say about it in this regard.9 But as a logical consequence of what we do know, without prudence no mean can be spotted, no mean-state reached, and in practice no virtue possible. As such a fundamental ethical faculty, where does prudence come from and what ensures its right function? That, in short, is unclear. Aristotle claims that prudence derives from experience, being a possession of old men rather than the young (6.8.5), and suggests that prudence is in some way learned, especially from exemplars (6.5.1; 6.12.2): “for experience is the fruit of years” (6.8.6)10 and “we may arrive at a definition of Prudence by considering who are the persons whom we call prudent” (6.5.1). Although he details the operations of prudence at length, Aristotle offers surprisingly little information about the source of such a significant virtue and its relation to truth, except to suggest that it appears in aged, moral paragons.11 It is otherwise allusively labelled an αἴσθησις, that is, an “intuition” or “supposition” about particulars (6.8.9), and no further clarity is brought to its definition or source.12 More can be said about the source of virtues if they are considered on a broader scale. The final chapter of the final book in the NE mentions the means to possessing and practicing virtues. These include instruction and 9

10

11

12

It is perhaps at this point that Aristotle’s silence is a gesture towards an epistemological backcloth to the NE that is not entirely manifest. According to Scott Rubarth (“Aristotle, Epistemic Exemplars, and Virtue Epistemology,” The Society for Ancient Greek Philosophy Newsletter 352 [2005]: 1–7), Aristotle “does not attempt to do true epistemology in Ethics” but remains intent on good action and “rules of thumb” for approximating right action. Whilst I find more precision and interest with truth in the NE than Rubarth does, it is in many cases unstated or not at the forefront of Aristotle’s concerns, which certainly holds for “prudence.” The line reads, “prudence includes a knowledge of particular facts [τῶν καθ᾽ ἕκαστά ἐστιν ἡ φρόνησις], and this is derived from experience, which a young man does not possess” (6.8.5). See J. L. Ackrill, “Aristotle on Eudaimonia,” in Essays on Aristotle’s Ethics, ed. A. Rorty (London: University of California Press, 1980), 31. Aristotle’s argument regarding prudence is circular. For virtues themselves are fostered through observing the mean by means of prudence, but prudence itself requires virtue to operate rightly and discern this mean (2.2.7–8; 6.12.10; 7.10.2). Prudence may begin as a natural capacity, one somewhat but not truly virtuous (NE 6.13.1–2). See Cristina Viano, “Aristotle and the Starting Point of Moral Development. The Notion of Natural Virtue,” in Reading Ancient Texts. Volume II: Aristotle and Neoplatonism: Essays in Honour of Denis O’Brien, ed. S. Stern-Gillet and K. Corrigan (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 23–42. On “right reason” (ὀρθός λόγος) as derivative of rather than a guide for the wise man, see D. K. Glidden, “Moral Vision, Orthos Logos, and the Role of the Phronimos,” Apeiron 28 (1995): 103–128; cf. Alfonso Gómez-Lobo, “Aristotle’s Right Reason,” Apeiron 28 (1995): 15–34.

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discipline, practice or habit, as well as a source beyond human control – divine dispensation – and, most significantly, law (NE 10.9.6; cf. EE 1.1.4–5).13 Two additional possibilities can be eliminated immediately. First, the virtues most likely do not come via Ideal Virtue, since Aristotle rejects Plato’s theory that happiness derives from universal Forms (NE 1.6; EE 1.8). Second, since humans do possess some amount of virtuosity by nature, but not true virtue (NE 6.13.1–2), then human nature does not ultimately supply virtue.14 Cleverness, for example, does not naturally become prudence. A woman may be born with a great deal of intelligence and by nature use it for evil ends. Only with virtue does her intellectual capacity transform into a force for good. So which of the potentially viable means contends as a source of virtue? Is it instruction, habit, law, or divine dispensation? Following his denial of natural virtues, Aristotle argues for habit, that is, action, as the source of virtue (2.1.4–8; cf. EE 2.1.24–25; 2.6). Such action stems not only from the individual but depends upon childhood training, so that both human-to-human instruction and habit work together to produce and cultivate virtues.15 A boy is taught about generosity and also practices generosity in order to become generous, engendering the virtues thanks to teaching and human action.16 If there is a problem with these sources of virtue, it has to do with the origins of the sources themselves: from whom and upon what authority do people receive the sort of instruction that cultivates virtues in others? Aristotle himself informs us that he learns from the wise and rejects the stance of children, sick people, and the populace (EE 1.3.1–2), drawing a hard distinction between valid and invalid sources, but he does not justify this separation or his selection of one source over another. As to action 13

14

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Martha Nussbaum (The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy [Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001], 285, 345–349) underscores the role of law and public education in moral development. The point rests on the metaphysical premise that nature itself cannot bring potentialities to actuality (NE 2.1.2–4). We do not become by being but rather by doing, so to become a builder one must start building. My point here focuses on the functional sources of acquisition rather than a more detailed method of epistemology. Even if Aristotle presupposes his epistemology, it does not bear significance for the fact that he concentrates on teaching and habit as cultivators of virtue. See C. D. C. Reeve, Action, Contemplation, and Happiness: An Essay on Aristotle (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 25–57. According to NE 2.1.1, instruction imparts intellectual virtue, and habit imparts moral virtue, but such a simple distinction is qualified when Aristotle later associates his definition of virtue with the prudent man himself (2.6.15) and indicates that a community of friends is necessary for virtue (9.9.1–7), a community that resides within the confines of the polis.

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being a source of virtue, the ground becomes even more unsteady than it was with differentiating qualified instructors. How are the potentialities for virtuous activity within humans explained? We are left wondering and left without an answer to the question of what is or are the origins of authoritative instruction and human nature that enable virtuous action.17 Divine dispensation will be discussed below, and at this point it suffices to say that in view of his options and opponents, and with much more clarity than Socrates, Aristotle successfully acknowledged and defended instruction and practice as sources of virtue, and yet he succumbed to a lack of clarification about the sources of or the criteria for these sources. David Bostock has arrived at a similar conclusion about the acquisition of virtue. Aristotle, he argues, provides no explanation of how “reason” identifies eudaimonia or noble acts or virtuous dispositions, which, for sources of virtue, leaves the two options just identified: “It now appears that, so far as the virtues of character are concerned, it is not reason but mere training and habituation – i.e. absorbing the values already held by those who educate us – that is the source of our ‘knowledge’.”18 According to Bostock, habituation, what I have been calling “action” or “practice,” actually derives from education. Students of virtue cultivate noble qualities by receiving explicit and implicit instruction, acquiring habits that form what were once simply students into now virtuous students. But as to the educators of habit, “There is no way of deciding whether one education was better than another, save by relying on the opinions of those who were thus educated.”19 The criteria for virtuous education are dislodged from any objective setting and placed into the lap of those tutees of virtue. That leaves subjective judgments, indeed opinions, about education as determinative for deciding which education outclasses the others. In other words, Aristotelian virtues derive from teaching and habit – perhaps habit guided by teaching – and so their root

17

18

The same problem holds for Socrates, who in Plato’s Meno questions the source of virtue. Although Aristotle critiques his responses as unsatisfactory (EE 1.5.15), there is evidence from Socrates that virtue comes from divine dispensation (Meno 99b–100b) and human teaching (89b–c), though the origins of virtue for anyone who does teach it remain a mystery, and Socrates himself seems stumped by the fact that he can find no teachers or learners of virtue (89d–91c; 98c–100b; cf. 82b–84c). See also Plato, Apol., 25c–26a; 29d– 31a; Euthyd. 278d–e; 283a; 288d; 289b; and Abraham Stone, “On the Teaching of Virtue in Plato’s Meno and the Nature of Philosophical Authority,” New Yearbook of Phenomenology and Phenomenological Philosophy 10 (2010): 251–282. 19 Bostock, Aristotle’s Ethics, 100 (see also 88–99). Bostock, Aristotle’s Ethics, 97.

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source lies with the educator, yet how these competing educations ought to be evaluated is not indicated. In summary, Aristotle’s moral philosophy exposes a few points of vulnerability, some admitted by him and others unacknowledged. Two primary obstacles hamper human virtue: desire may overpower reason rather than cooperating with it, and the mean, as well as the right principle that determines the mean, can be difficult to discern. Two shortcomings also appear within Aristotle’s ethical framework itself. For successfully determining the mean requires an intellectual skill of unknown origins, which itself requires virtue, and also depends upon an unspecified educative authority. Amidst the many options – human nature, φρόνησις, habit, and education – it is education that appears to take the most authoritative post as a source of virtue, yet without justification or criteria for evaluation. While it will prove valuable to question whether or not another model of virtue ethics offers a better explanation for these troubles, Aristotle’s theology must be considered, finally, as a resolution to the problem.

Theology Apparently not an atheist, Aristotle seems to hold some conception of θεός. The Nicomachean Ethics on first blush concerns all things human – human actions of pride and greed, human communities of politicians and teachers, and the human happiness that one might find within a πόλις. But for Aristotle the distinction of anything “human” in these matters arises due to his theological beliefs. The gods “enjoy supreme felicity and happiness” (NE 10.8.7), and their activity as divine beings sets the irreplicable yet paradigmatic standard for human behavior, so that whatever human activity most resembles divine activity constitutes the greatest source of happiness for humans.20 There is no mirror of correspondence here between god and man. For the gods cannot carry out the virtuous activities of humans, such as just behaviors, and yet the gods are in some way active; for they do not sleep, and so in Aristotle’s view one plausible deed remains: “for a living being, if we eliminate action, and a fortiori creative action, what remains save contemplation?” (10.8.7). Perfect, 20

Views on the place and originality of NE 10.6–8 vary. Nussbaum (Fragility, 373–377), for example, reckons that it does not cohere with the rest of the NE and may be an editorial addition, or that Aristotle interposed the section as a perspective worthy of consideration.

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divine beings enjoy complete happiness through their characteristic activity of contemplation. Despite the gods’ existence, perfection, and active intellectual life, they do not, according to Aristotle, interact much with human beings. Gods do not perform just or liberal activities like giving coins, for “to whom will they give?” The question of gods relating to creation in some immanent manner might be answered positively by other religions, such as ancient Judaism which claimed that all good gifts came from God (Deut 26:10–11) and saw humans as the fitting recipients. As will be seen, the case is similar in Proverbs. But to Aristotle these forms of activity appear trifling and unworthy for divine beings, as he endows gods with existence and activity but nevertheless distances them from the human realm (see also NE 8.7.5). In NE 1.9.1–3, Aristotle suggests that happiness could be a divine gift: “indeed of all man’s possessions it is most likely to be so, inasmuch as it is the best of them all.” No more is said about divinely given happiness until the final chapter (10.8.13), where the possibility is granted that the gods oversee human affairs, especially those most divine (i.e. intellectual) affairs, and that the gods recompense favored humans. Because of his intellectual occupation, the wise man pleases them most, and because the gods requite such behavior, the wise man is loved most and is therefore happiest. The sequence alludes to divine governance, retribution, and a communication of human states of being, but the nature of this network between the gods and the wise is not further specified. If it were, we would have the collective makings of a systematic theology, and yet it is not, meaning that despite his gestures, Aristotle’s theology seems to inform very little about Aristotelian ethics. The fullest account of Aristotelian theology must account for an additional source: the Eudemian Ethics. Here Aristotle investigates the source or starting point of virtue, which he frames as the principal cause of action. At first attributing this cause to humans (2.6) and then considering the prospect of fortune (8.2.20), he finally insists that the answer is clearly divine. “As in the universe, so there, everything is moved by god; for in a manner the divine element in us is the cause of all our motions. And the starting-point of reason is not reason but something superior to reason” (8.2.21–22). Given that god alone supersedes all human faculties and that humans harbor “the divine element” (τό θεῖον) within themselves, god stands as the first cause and starting point of human action. He moves everything in the universe, and through whatever residence he takes up within humans, that “divine element in us,” we too are moved first by god.

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Aristotle mentions nothing more about that “divine element” in humans or how it relates to virtue. Based on the aforementioned comments in the NE, the divine element may be the faculty of contemplation itself, and yet the EE suggests intellectual inspiration, as if the divine element moves human beings to intellectual activity.21 With more clarity, the EE adds a final feature to these theological possibilities: god does not issue commands to humans, as he does to the Jewish people, for example, from Sinai. Instead, prudence issues commands that then lead humans to god, and as a consequence the best, that is the most prudent, human action will promote contemplation and service of god (8.3.16). Whatever method of choosing and acquiring good things best promotes the contemplation of God – “whether goods of body or wealth or friends or the other goods – that is the best mode, and that standard is the finest.” While exactly how this train of thought incorporates “the divine element” is uncertain, the EE begins to clarify the significance of theology for Aristotelian virtue, as contemplation of the divine, the end to which prudence leads, establishes the standard of human choice and activities. Those familiar with Aristotelian teleology may notice a conflict, one thick with scholarly discussion, wherein divine contemplation now stands next to virtuous activity as the greatest good. I will attempt no resolution of the issue and instead wish to underscore the coherent aspects of Aristotle’s theology: the gods may interact with humans through provision and recompense, disposing happiness as a gift and favoring those who exercise virtue most. The gods themselves, though, do not possess virtues, other than contemplation, and the thought of divine acts of justice or temperance strikes Aristotle as absurd. Moral virtue belongs to humans, and in the end it seems that Aristotle’s theological remarks bear little significance for his moral philosophy, especially within the NE.22

21

22

As Michael Woods (Eudemian Ethics: Books I, II, and VIII, Clarendon Aristotle Series, 2nd ed. [Oxford: Clarendon, 1992], 171) remarks, “the divine element produces action of the appropriate kind in a manner superior to rational calculation.” Inferring from the context that surrounds the “divine element,” where Aristotle aims to explain why some people continually have good fortunes, Woods’s explanation is reasonable, yet I hesitate to place too much weight on the inference. These conclusions cohere with the limited involvement of Aristotle’s Unmoved Mover, which he expounds elsewhere (see Adam Drozdek, Greek Philosophers as Theologians: The Divine Arche [Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007], 169–183).

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Views of Virtue in Philosophy Summary

A comprehensive set of questions about virtue and its trappings have been forwarded to Aristotle, starting with a view of human beings that rivals that of his predecessor. For Socrates, reason just governs desire and the human as a whole, offering a heavily cognitive anthropology, while for Aristotle reason at times succumbs to desire, which causes error and exhibits an anthropology that integrates the roles of intellect and emotion. In this process of human decision, moral virtue rightly determines the end of human action, and prudence determines the suitable means. This is the point at which Aristotle’s ethical framework encounters some difficulty. In the first place, Aristotle’s moral philosophy leaves humans vulnerable to desire, which can overpower reason rather than cooperate with it, and makes them open to the struggle of perceiving the mean, as well as its determinative “right principle.” In the second place, Aristotle’s ethical theory itself encounters certain shortcomings, of which, in his texts at least, he seems less aware. The origins of “prudence” – the intellectual skill necessary for identifying and selecting the mean – are unknown, and his whole conception of virtue seems to rest upon human teaching without clear criteria for evaluating its sources. Theological whispers in the NE and more confident assertions in the EE furnish a theology but leave it largely detached from ethics, which concludes an assessment of the many resources of Aristotle’s moral philosophy. They have been reviewed, evaluated, and gathered, and are ready for use when interpreting Proverbs in Chapters 3–5, as well as discussing its implications in Chapter 7. The story of virtue ethics continues with the voice of Thomas Aquinas.

aquinas I have so far been telling a story about virtue, its definition, how it relates to the larger ethical system of Socrates and Aristotle, and the problems associated with it. After Aristotle, the virtues were discussed by thinkers in the Christian tradition, some of whom can be called intellectual giants and all of whom were intent on incorporating the writings of the NT. Ambrose, for example, identified the beatitudes in Luke’s Gospel with the cardinal virtues – “blessed are the poor, for yours is the kingdom of God”; blessed are those who hunger now and those who weep now, and those who are hated due to Jesus’ name (Luke 6:20–22). Augustine

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too drew on Scripture and did most by connecting virtue to the will and love.23 The titan of such Christian thinkers, though, was Thomas Aquinas, who treated virtue far more systematically than the others did and acknowledged an explicit and thoroughgoing dependence on Aristotle, offering recognizable developments to Greek moral philosophy. Aquinas’ moral philosophy relied upon Aristotle, whom he called “The Philosopher,” and at times drew upon Augustine and Christian Scripture. As with the shift from Socrates to Aristotle, Aquinas articulated and defended his account of ethics with more order and detail than did his predecessors. Being generous to them, he truly built upon those who preceded him rather than tearing them down, though that is not to say that he simply continued what others like Ambrose, Augustine, and Aristotle started. While he maintained much of the ethical framework constructed by Aristotle, he radically advanced the theological context of virtue, so that where Aristotle whispered, Aquinas roared.

Virtue and Anthropology Aquinas calls virtue a “power’s perfection,” because virtue directs the soul’s powers (i.e. capacities) to what is good and therefore makes the possessor and his or her actions good (QV 1). In other words, virtues are dispositions that make people able to do something well (QV 12 ad 4), such as rulers governing a people well or soldiers fulfilling their role by brandishing their arms, charging into war, and fighting in one accord. Four of Aquinas’ favorite virtues are prudence, justice, courage, and temperance, the four “cardinal virtues” that form the core of Aquinas’ moral thought and apply to the four components of the human moral constitution: prudence governs reason; justice orders the will; courage stabilizes the irascible appetite; and temperance moderates the concupiscent appetite (QV 8). In comparison to his predecessors, Aquinas obviously elaborates the components of the human constitution, yet it is not their detail but rather the bearing of these components on my ongoing questions about virtue and anthropology that deserves most attention. Based on his comments about virtue and human constitution, Aquinas seems to align with Socrates, who equated virtue with knowledge: you do what is right because you know what is right. For Aquinas, “prudence” governs reason and stands as the preeminent cardinal virtue, operating 23

See Expositio Evangelii Secundum Lucam 5.64–67 and City of God V and XIX.

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authoritatively with regard to human action. We first deliberate, then make a judgment about that deliberation, and finally command (ST I–II 61), as a businessperson may consider a venture, weighing up its potential risks and advantages, assessing its plan and participants, judge that consideration feasible and finally decide to invest. For “a good moves the appetite only on the condition that one understands it” (QV 6 ad 6), a cognitive-centric view of moral operation, all of which sounds very much like Socrates’ “deliberate action.” Despite these remarks, Aquinas does not assimilate virtue to knowledge only. He instead articulates an interdependent relationship between reason and desire (ST I–II 19.3 ad 2; 65.1), where reason, which must determine the good, cannot adequately do so without the aid of that disposition called “prudence,” which governs intellectual judgment and consequently human appetites (QV 6). For reason is reformed by prudence and then rightly disposed to those appetites under its care. But what may seem like a hierarchical tier of prudence, reason, and desire becomes interdependent due not to their inherent nature or ideal relationship but because of reason’s imperfection. Reason cannot rightly do its job; it is imperfect, and because of this it will indeed err when identifying the good, requiring just as much help as the human appetites to function rightly. Overseen by prudence, the intellect and the appetite operate in a mutual fashion, forming a cooperative alliance that sounds much more like Aristotle’s “deliberate desire” than it does Socrates’.24 Virtuous action depends not solely on knowledge but requires knowledge, desire, and disposition, three elements that work in concert to attain the good and act rightly. Aristotle and Aquinas cohere in their holistic approaches to anthropology and virtue, and both give final voice to the intellect (cf. NE 3.3.15–20; ST I 82.3; 83.3 ad 2). Furthermore, by defining virtue as a disposition, Aquinas draws upon Aristotle, agreeing with the NE (e.g., 2.6.1; 1.13.19) and other writings. However, when looking closely at the place of desire the two thinkers part ways, and the difference turns, in two places, on how they treat love. The first has to do with how love and desire for the good are associated. Aristotle could have described human aspiration to the good in terms of love: loving that which is good, cultivating an

24

Aquinas (ST I–II 55.4) agrees with Augustine’s definition of virtue: “Virtue is a good quality of the mind, by which we live righteously, of which no one can make bad use, which God works in us, without us.” He clarifies that “of the mind” refers to what designates human beings as such.

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affection for it and combatting that which opposes it. But when describing how humans want the good, he mentions not love, for which he had language,25 but a more general term for “desire” (ἐπιθυμέω) with which we aim at and pursue what is good or what appears good to us.26 By contrast, when speaking about desire, Aquinas features the language of love in a way that Aristotle does not. “Love,” he writes, “is the foundation and root of all affections . . . To be moved rightly toward our end, we need both to know and to desire it” (QV 12 ad 9; so ST I 83.3–4). In short, “people desire only what they love” (QV 12). Thus, when speaking of general desire for the good, Aquinas clearly uses the language of love where Aristotle suggests as much but with less concern to describe that desire as such. In the second place, desires leave an overall negative impression on Aristotle. They are associated with an irrational child who cannot restrain them (NE 3.12.9) – a boy undisciplined, a girl unchaste; they are aligned with passions in need of restraint (7.9), and when unrestrained other problematic emotions, such as anger, are much preferable (7.6.1). Desires need reason to temper them, to be brought under rational control so that one desires rightly (NE 3.12.9; see also 1.2–3), implying that without a properly tutored intellect people’s desires will run untethered. Although Aquinas may not have disagreed with Aristotle about the problem of unformed desires, he does not deride it, nor does he seem so preoccupied with its negative possibilities. He instead makes an astounding distinction that depends upon one metaphysical premise: “Wherefore the love of God is better than the knowledge of God; but, on the contrary, the knowledge of corporeal things is better than the love thereof” (ST I 82.3). Aquinas here means that loving God is better than cognizing God, and that cognizing corporeal things is better than humans loving such things. In the natural realm the intellect ought to supersede desire, but in the supernatural, love reigns. Aquinas’ position presumes that God exists

25

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Aristotle reserves his terms for “love” for the context of personal relationships (φιλέω; αἱρέομαι; ἣδομαι; and derivatives) and, in the NE, does not clearly distinguish desire (ἐπιθυμέω), affection/pleasure (e.g., ἣδομαι) and love (φιλέω), in many statements suggesting that they are synonymous. See NE 8.2.1–2; 8.3.5; 8.5.2, 4; cf. 4.6. For instance, “it is right to feel anger at some things, and also to feel desire [ἐπιθυμεῖν] for some things, for instance health and knowledge” (3.1.24). Aristotle also uses βούλομαι (“wish”) and its derivatives in this way (3.4.1–3). See also Jamie Dow, “Aristotle’s Theory of the Emotions: Emotions as Pleasures and Pains,” in Moral Psychology and Human Action in Aristotle, ed. Michael Pakaluk and Giles Pearson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 53–54.

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and that he infuses humans with theological virtues, and it drives him, in contrast to Aristotle, to endow desire with a more positive role in virtuous activity and to prefer love for God over cognition of God. With broad agreement on aspects of virtue and human constitution, a great distinction surfaces between Aristotle and Aquinas in the details of desire.

Theological Virtue Aquinas’ revision of Aristotelian ethics is mild when compared to the way he overhauls theological morality. Indeed, he supplements Aristotle with a more positive view of desire whilst affirming the four cardinal virtues, and yet he changes the entire landscape of moral thought by introducing another category: the theological virtues. For Aquinas, God is the ultimate good and ultimate end for human beings, a metaphysical premise that bolsters his entire ethical construct and differs remarkably from his predecessors. Socrates suggested a natural theology, where a god or gods endow humans with faculties that are then used for moral or immoral ends. Despite its impressive argument for design in the universe, Socratic theology leaves ethics largely anthropocentric.27 Aristotle similarly identified the divine as a first cause for all things, but transcendence does not remain the hallmark of his theological wonderings, which instead start to close the human–divine gap with that “divine element” said to be within human beings. We know little else about this element except that it is associated with contemplation, and specifically the contemplation of god, the activity that marks the end of virtuous behavior. Despite the profundity of Socratic and Aristotelian theology, any existence or involvement of the gods carries little significance for morality. The wills and desires of 27

Socrates indeed acknowledged the concept of θεός, and Xenophon’s Memorabilia offers the most radical depiction of his theological beliefs. Socrates was known never “to offend against piety and religion in deed or word” (Mem. 1.1.10), and he affirmed the omniscience and omnipresence of the gods (1.1.19), later admiring them for having placed certain objects in nature from which to infer their existence: the sun, moon, food, water, and fire all serve humankind and thus indicate divine design (4.3.1–9), being gifts for humans that most significantly evidence the gods’ diligent attention to them (4.3.11–12). On god-given faculties now residing within the power and responsibility of humans, see 4.3.11. On the argument to accept Xenophon’s testimony of Socrates, see Mark McPherran, The Religion of Socrates (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1996), 272–291. Cf. Gregory Vlastos (Socrates: Ironist and Moral Philosopher [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991], 160–162), who doubts the metaphysical attributions of Xenophon to Socrates in the Memorabilia (1.1.11) based on Plato, Aristotle, and other claims therein.

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man, the wants and decisions of women, it was that human world to which these thinkers restricted their reflection. For Aquinas, though, God’s existence and his relationship to creation produce quite different implications. From the divine point of view, God interacts with human beings, dispensing blessings and communicating good unlike the Greek gods who remained distant and distributed select benefits for wise human beings. From the human point of view, people exist under this relatively immanent divine rule and some pledge allegiance to a heavenly city while the rest of humankind claim citizenship only within an earthly realm. But everyone, nonetheless, is treated as a child of God (ST I–II 63.4), bearing a mark human and a mark divine with the imago Dei. When Aquinas embarks on his discussion of human happiness and ethics, he says humans are “made to God’s image” and that “it remains for us to treat of His image, i.e., man, inasmuch as he too is the principle of his actions, as having free-will and control of his actions” (ST I–II pr). God is here the principle of all one’s actions, a connection that Aquinas will later call “participation” with God, which represents a personal relation between the human and the divine. Within this theo-ethical vision, Aquinas lastly incorporates the good: “as good is in God as in the first, but not the univocal, cause of all things, it must be in him in a most excellent way” (ST I 6.2). Because God is the first cause of all things and perfect on all accounts, he ascends to axiological and metaphysical heights as the ultimate good, a vantage from which he becomes a good that surpasses natural human capacities: the “divine good,” “heavenly happiness,” “eternal life” (cf. so QV 9, 11–12). Amidst this collection of theological points, God informs Thomistic ethics in two ways that Aristotle’s god did not: the relationship between God and humans, and an alternative version of happiness. Aquinas explains, “for performing actions directed to the end of eternal life, human beings are divinely infused, first of all, with grace, which gives the soul a kind of spiritual being, and then with faith, hope, and charity” (QV 10). The immanent relation between God and humans and the divinely transformed status of the ultimate good overhaul Aquinas’ conception of virtue. The target of human action, now theological, particularly requires divine power and involvement, as do the virtues, which are in name and kind unheard of among the Greeks. For Aquinas, God transforms the entire ethical scheme, as can also be seen in his conceptions of wrongdoing and the cultivation of virtue.

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Despite being the engine of his moral philosophy, Aquinas’ theology does not drive out human error. It informs how behavior goes wrong and, like the NE, faults both reason and disposition for it. “An act of sin,” says Aquinas, “consists in reason’s being drawn to follow the irascible and concupiscible appetites’ inclination” (QV 4 ad 1), meaning that reason fails when it does not command the appetites but rather consents to their desire for any “good” that is contrary to divine law. Misdirected desires lead reason astray. But, lest we think that moral blunders come about from a bifold constitution of desire and reason, we must remember that human action is not entirely composed of desire and reason. For it also includes the will, a complex of human powers called the “rational appetite” (ST I–II 8.1) quite distinct from the sensitive appetite – those basic “desires” that I have been referring to – and from the sole power of the intellect (i.e. reason). The goodness or badness of a human act depends ultimately on the object of the will (ST I–II 19.2), namely, what it selects as its ultimate end. If this end is God, and so is in keeping with the order of reason and God’s law, then the act is good (ST I–II 21.1). If the ultimate end is anything other than God, say fame or comfort or intellectual achievement, then the act is bad. “Those who sin,” says Aquinas, “turn from that in which their last end really consists: but they do not turn away from the intention of the last end, which intention they mistakenly seek in other things” (ST I–II 1.7 ad 1). Whilst Aquinas describes wrongdoing in a variety of ways – human reason “falls short” and does not properly govern the appetites (ST I–II 19.4); the appetites themselves rebel against reason (QV 4) – the rest of wrongdoing, what Aquinas calls “sin” in the preceding quote, arises from aiming at the incorrect ultimate end.28 So it is not just the mechanics of human action that go wrong, whereby desires revolt and reason resigns. Humans also err by directing themselves to the wrong ends, replacing God with any number of human aspirations with which to order their actions.

28

J. O. Urmson (“Aristotle’s Doctrine of the Mean,” in Rorty, Essays, 160) makes an intriguing comment about Aristotle, sin, and virtue: “for Aristotle, having to make oneself behave properly, however admirable the deed, betrays a defect of character. Excellence of character is not the triumph of grace over the old Adam; it is that state of character which entitles a man to be called eudaimon. Clearly one is more eudaimon if one acts properly without friction, without effort, enjoying it, than if one has to struggle to do so through faulty education. That is how Adam would have acted eudaimon before the fall.”

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Anthropologically, Aquinas agrees with much of Aristotle, not least in that reason and desire cause human error. But the reason for this error is the will’s selection of alternative ultimate ends, ends which themselves differ from any that Aristotle had conceived. Divine law sets the standard for human action, while fellowship and participation with God, not merely mirroring his contemplative activity, constitute the human’s ultimate end. Such elements entail a theological moral philosophy foreign to the Greeks. Virtue Cultivation It is not only wrongdoing that takes its shape from Aquinas’ theology. The cultivation of virtue too is constructed around God and a theological anthropology, as it grows through habit and practice (QV 9 esp. ad 11, 14) and differs from Aristotelian virtue on three accounts. First, Aquinas differs in starting point. If anyone is to have a true vision of God as the ultimate end then she must repent and be baptized (e.g., ST III 69.4), for virtuosity requires membership not in the political state but among the people of God, and it demands that one turn toward him in an act of repentance. In other words, to even touch behavior that takes its aim at true good, humans must believe in God and join his people. Second, Aquinas’ view of time informs his view of virtue. In the “present life,” the inescapable flaws of human nature result in sin, which is incomparable to that “state of glory” wherein God grants humans the strength to secure cooperation between their reason and appetites (QV 4 ad 8). Third, Aquinas, like Aristotle, derives his standard of virtuous activity from the divine realm, but where Aristotle saw an ideal comprised of a single action, Aquinas envisioned God’s holistic application to human morality. For Aristotle, the gods are expedient for human virtue only in their activity of contemplation. Their cogitation determines what is most virtuous for humans to do, and as for the moral matters of generosity or being honest or holding oneself in temperance, deity has no relevance. So in the moral sphere itself the gods set no example for humans. For Aquinas, God not only exhibits the exemplar virtuous state but also relates to the full scope of “human” virtue. He instructs with his normative law (ST I–II 19.4) and equates conformity to himself with the cultivation of virtue (ST I–II 19.9–10), relevant in all matters of mundane morality. The gods of the Greek world, expedient though they were, did not hold this sort of significance for ethics.

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Distinguishing Aquinas’ view of virtue cultivation from Aristotle’s may be straightforward, but when looking at Aquinas’ scheme itself there is one complication. The idea that God sets the standard for all human action seems to counter conclusions that Aquinas makes elsewhere. In QV 13 he applies Aristotle’s understanding of the mean to intellectual and theological virtues. Right reason determines the mean for moral virtues; truth determines the mean for the intellectual; and God himself sets the standard for theological virtues, which do not involve meanstates. Does it not follow, then, that in the areas of moral and intellectual virtue, it is truth and right reason that determine the proper standard for humans? What, then, has happened to God who, according to what has been laid out above, norms all human activity? Does he not model what is right and good with respect to the moral and intellectual life of humankind? Aquinas himself responds to this objection by explaining the imago Dei (ST I–II 19.4 ad 1). Because humans bear the image of God, God can communicate his divine reason (i.e. eternal law) to them through natural reason, which can then govern moral virtue in a “godly” way. With access to eternal law through human reason, Aquinas’ standards for virtue order themselves in a way that coheres what are only apparently conflicting positions. Human reason sets the standard for moral virtue and does so rightly when in conformity to divine reason. These conclusions, wherein the source and standard of virtue trickles down from God to human reason, account for two problems exposed in the viewpoint of Aristotle. He failed to justify the source of virtue – human teaching – and furthermore relied upon the faculty of prudence without clarifying its source or ethical standard. Aquinas overcomes both of these issues by locating the source of virtues and the standard for right action in God (see ST I–II 91.4; 92.1), whose law replaces human teaching, and whose person replaces anthropocentric prudence.29 Questions about ultimate epistemological sources always result in a dead end, since a final authority that escapes complete justification must be chosen or assumed, and Aquinas’ thought is no exception (so ST I 1.8). But Aquinas’ theology contributes not only a theoretical end of ethics (i.e. contemplation); it influences the fundamental questions and outworking

29

On this point, Aquinas resembles Plato more than Socrates and Aristotle. Plato derives virtue from a transcendent set of Forms, though his impersonal Forms contrast with Aquinas’ personal God who communicates with human beings.

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of human action. In this way, he offers a better explanation and more coherent justification for the source and criteria of virtue than his Athenian predecessors.

Summary This section has expounded the central tenants of Aquinas’ moral philosophy whilst regularly comparing them to Aristotle’s, a man upon whom Aquinas greatly depended. Both thinkers cohere in their basic definition of virtue and in their holistic approaches to anthropology, giving final voice to the intellect. When speaking of general desire for the good, however, Aquinas talks more definitively in terms of love, whilst Aristotle reserves “love” language for the context of friendship. As for wrongdoing, Aquinas thinks that humans fail to attain virtue because they aim at the incorrect end, that is, they love something other than God. In sum, Aquinas’ theology sets him apart from Aristotle in two primary ways: the relationship between God and humans (imago Dei), and an alternative version of happiness (union with God), which result in a theologically informed understanding of moral virtue unprecedented among the Greeks. When viewed from this perspective, Aquinas’ model may be seen to provide a more satisfactory account of the source and criteria of virtuous activity. For God endows human reason with the knowledge needed to successfully determine the mean of moral virtues; divine law sets the standard for human action; and participation with God, not merely mirroring his contemplative activity, is its ultimate end. The nature of virtue and its related concepts, conceptions of wrongdoing, the significance of how human constitution bears on these matters, and the possibilities that theology might hold have occupied the present chapter, which has assessed these elements to tell an evaluative story of virtue-based moral philosophy from the contributions of Socrates, Aristotle, and Aquinas. For the same reasons that I omitted figures like Ambrose and Augustine, so I must now pass over people like David Hume, who explored virtue but, based on extant evidence, not nearly to the extent that Aristotle, Aquinas, or certain modern moral philosophers have done. In the main, discussions about virtue as moral philosophy quieted by the end of the medieval period and remained hushed throughout the modern period, when deontology and utilitarianism attracted most attention. This all changed in the twentieth century, when virtue ethics was revitalized, and this is where my story continues.

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Views of Virtue in Philosophy

current theories: alasdair macintyre In 1958, Elizabeth Anscombe summoned the attention of moral philosophers to direct them to virtue ethics, inspiring a collection of contemporary authors who have come to form a “Neo-Aristotelian” tradition.30 According to one representative, these philosophers are “neo” in that they relinquish Aristotle’s views of slavery and women and do not restrict themselves to his particular list of virtues.31 They are “Aristotelian” because they adhere to his writings whenever they can.32 One scholar is examined here and treated quite differently from the preceding figures since he contributes not loaded definitions of virtue, with all of its accessories and qualifications, but instead offers meta-ethical resources for assessing moral philosophies and integrating biblical literature. As mentioned in the Introduction, Alasdair MacIntyre has fortified the place of virtue ethics in contemporary moral philosophy. In After Virtue (1981) he attacks modern conceptions of ethics, exposing as bankrupt the language and concepts of the contemporary debate, and champions his version of neo-Aristotelian virtue ethics. Virtues, for MacIntyre, are “dispositions” that inform our practice, but they also “sustain us in the relevant kind of quest for the good, by enabling us to overcome the harms, dangers, temptations and distractions which we encounter, and which will furnish us with increasing self-knowledge and increasing knowledge of the good.”33 MacIntyre is less concerned to define virtue than he is to revive it and let it guide us in our “quest for the good.” Placing the moral self within a narrative, he describes virtue as an expedition directed toward some telos, so that “the good life for man is the life spent in seeking for the good life for man, and the virtues necessary for the seeking are those which will enable us to understand what more and what else the good life for man is.”34 While the self is united within a narrative somewhat abstractly and led along its way with more or less help from virtue, humans inherit unchosen traditions that determine their social identities.35 These traditions provide a concrete moral starting point by basing an agent’s morality on his or her social roles (e.g., child, mother, father), which then determine how one’s “good” is defined. So the good for a child may be to feed, to receive care 30 32

33 34

31 Anscombe, “Modern Moral Philosophy.” Hursthouse, Virtue, 8. Neo-Aristotelians differ, even if subtly, in their depictions of virtue, which will not be detailed here. MacIntyre, After Virtue, 254 (see also 189–190, 253–254). 35 MacIntyre, After Virtue, 254. MacIntyre, After Virtue, 255–260.

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39

and grow, while the good for a parent may be to provide for and nurture their child, in the meantime loving their spouse and in all ways stabilizing the home. Such traditions are given, not chosen, and they are sometimes multiple, furnishing the authoritative framework for assigning social roles to the human that then determine his or her function and therefore his or her good in life.36 In other words, virtuous activity is determined by the functional role of an individual, supplied by a tradition, within a community. According to MacIntyre, this notion of tradition necessitates a new virtue: “having an adequate sense of the traditions to which one belongs or which confront one.”37 Being virtuous entails an awareness of one’s own and other moral traditions, and when multiplied it is easy to see that traditions can lead to confrontation, rivaling one another as well as supplying the opportunity to evaluate and possibly exchange them. MacIntyre takes up the question of rival traditions in Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (1988), where, among other things, he outlines a method for evaluating contesting traditions.38 The task entails two stages. “The first is that in which each characterizes the contentions of its rival in its own terms, making explicit the grounds for rejecting what is incompatible with its own central theses.”39 A rival tradition’s position and its grounds of incompatibility must first be described within its framework of thought and argument. This clarifies problems with the rival and also facilitates clearer dialogue between conflicting traditions. Second, the 36

37

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In the face of a choice between alternative roles, the person can perform better or worse, and this performance is determined by “what is better for him or her qua individual and qua parent or child or qua citizen or member of a profession, or perhaps qua some or all of these” (MacIntyre, After Virtue, 260). MacIntyre, After Virtue, 258. Related to understanding one’s own traditions is the objection that a tradition, on MacIntyre’s terms, has no clear scope (so Michael C. Legaspi, Wisdom in Classical and Biblical Tradition [New York: Oxford University Press, 2018], 7–11). Briefly, I think that the scope is flexible, and that it probably changes with time and depends, perhaps circularly, upon one’s tradition itself. Significant too is that the objection may assume that we can identify traditions in the abstract. Most importantly, though, it should be remembered that the idea of choosing or entering into a tradition as a free individual is a modern way of framing it. Traditions were, and I think still should be, considered given, somewhat involuntary, unavoidable, and unavoidably influential. Accounting for that is likely of more consequence than delimiting a “tradition” in the abstract. MacIntyre (Whose Justice?, 169) describes rival traditions in terms of communities of discourse: “what if there appears a second community whose tradition and procedures of enquiry are structured in terms of different, largely incompatible and largely incommensurable concepts and beliefs, defining warranted assertibility and truth in terms internal to its scheme of concepts and beliefs?” MacIntyre, Whose Justice?, 166.

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Views of Virtue in Philosophy

“protagonist” of a tradition considers its own antinomies or the stunted aspects of its own inquiry and then “ask[s] whether the alternative and rival tradition may not be able to provide resources to characterize and to explain the failings and defects of their own tradition more adequately than they, using the resources of the tradition, have been able to do.”40 In other words, the problems in one’s own tradition are exposed and then tested against the resources of a rival tradition to see if these resources can resolve the failings of one’s own. Both stages, to an extent, are part of what I am proposing to do in the present work. These two stages require no change in one’s adherence to a tradition. They demand only an evaluation and interaction of them. The third point, however, demands allegiance, as each protagonist must select an alternative: “that of abandoning any claim that truth-value can be attached to the fundamental judgments underpinning their mode of enquiry or that of making a claim to truth of a kind which appeals beyond their own particular scheme of concepts and beliefs, to something external to that scheme.”41 In light of the first two stages, each tradition must locate the truth, whether it lies within its own system or within the other, and conduct a truth judgment that depends upon the “explanatory power” of what MacIntyre calls the “histories” that traditions enable their adherents to write, which then compel a response, and possibly a change in allegiance to a particular tradition.42 The present study is occupied with the first two stages of reckoning a rivalry between moral traditions, and it leaves that third stage, which calls for a decision of allegiance to one tradition or another, for the reader to consider. MacIntyre’s notion of a moral tradition, as outlined here and in the Introduction, frames my project of establishing Proverbs as a tradition of moral inquiry, contributing in two primary ways. First, it helps to determine if and how the biblical materials fit within a tradition, since, taken on MacIntyre’s terms, even an ancient poet writing about “ethical” issues must sit within a tradition or traditions. The poet, furthermore, need not be aware that he is writing within such a context, meaning that the instructional literature of the ancient Near East feasibly developed within traditions of moral inquiry. Within what tradition(s), then, do the biblical

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41 MacIntyre, Whose Justice?, 167. MacIntyre, Whose Justice?, 170. MacIntyre, Whose Justice?, 403 (see also 402). Despite his critique of “pure” objectivity, MacIntyre does acknowledge objective truth, a view coherent with his admission that through explanatory power certain traditions stand superior to others (see Whose Justice?, 360, 363; Three Rival Versions, 121–122; Tasks, 209).

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texts speak, and how does this shape the social roles of its characters, as well as their goods and virtues? Second, once established as a tradition, the OT itself, particularly the book of Proverbs, can be proffered as a tradition that rivals other virtue ethical traditions. How does it aid and benefit from other traditions? What are its powers and deficiencies of explanation with respect to rival traditions? Such questions will prove immensely fruitful in the interpretation of Proverbs within its ancient intellectual contexts. With his idea of tradition, MacIntyre provides an analytical resource and a methodological approach that will place each version of moral philosophy – Aristotelian, Thomistic, and Proverbial – into a critical conversation. To interpret Proverbs as a book of virtue is now the task at hand. Aristotle and Aquinas, and to an apposite extent Socrates, have weighed in on virtue – its definition, its source and cultivation, views on anthropology, the human problem, and theology – and the help of each will be enlisted to discover what sort of “virtues” might appear in the book of Proverbs and establish it as a moral tradition. First are the Aristotelian moral virtues and a multifaceted contextual explanation of their differences in Proverbs and the NE. Second are the Thomistic theological virtues – faith, hope, and love – which, for a theologian who did not clutter his work with references to Proverbs, have a close correspondence to Proverbial theology. Drawing on Proverbs as a book of moral and theological virtues, the final chapter integrates it with some of the wider concerns of virtue ethics, recalling the Socratic-Aristotelian debate about the role of knowledge for virtue and addressing the concerns of current interpreters of Proverbs, which summon a hearing on the nature and plight of human beings.

3 Moral Virtues in Proverbs

Ancient oriental wisdom . . . represents an early shape of philosophy, without which Greek philosophy would not have been possible.1

With a virtue-centered story of moral philosophy and an introduction to its conceptual resources in hand, the primary venture of this book lies ahead, still driven to question the dogged assumption that the “virtues” in the book of Proverbs are virtues of the Aristotelian or Thomistic sort. This chapter interprets Proverbs with the help of Aristotle, whose “moral virtues” will be used to assess the bulk of the book’s instruction. Many of the central concepts in Proverbs are moral concepts – such as justice, prudence, favor, and truth-telling – and may therefore pertain to moral philosophy. Some interpreters assume so and in particular presuppose that these concepts constitute virtues as understood by Aristotle, as if the ‫שפ ט‬ ׁ ‫ מ‬of Proverbs (“justice”; e.g., 1:3) represents a moral virtue in the same way that the δικαιοσύνη of the NE (“justice”; 2.7.16; Bk. 5) does.2 1

2

Eckart Otto, “Woher weiß der Mensch um Gut und Böse? Philosophische Annäherungen der ägyptischen und biblischen Weisheit an ein Grundproblem der Ethik,” in Recht und Ethos im Alten Testament – Gestalt und Wirkung: Festschrift für Horst Seebass zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. S. Beyerle, G. Mayer, and H. Strauß (Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1999), 207–231; “Die altorientalische Weisheit . . . repräsentiert eine Frühgestalt der Philosophie, ohne die eine griechische Philosophie nicht möglich gewesen wäre.” Perhaps it is valid to assume that the virtues in Proverbs are virtues. Julia Annas (Intelligent Virtue [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011], 173), speaking within the Aristotelian camp, says that “part of the attraction of an ethics of virtue has always been the point that virtue is familiar and recognizable by all.” Annas, however, is responding to the contention that virtues are largely unattainable and do not transfer across situations. The intent of this monograph is not to identify a universal set of virtues or to demonstrate their availability. Furthermore, if virtues are “recognizable by all,” I have

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Proverbs as a Piece of Moral Literature

43

Christopher Ansberry, for instance, has argued that Aristotle, much more than Socrates, provides a heuristic model for understanding Proverbs’ moral vision, as both Proverbs and the NE integrate human character and intellect in the process of moral maturation.3 More specifically, “the Nicomachean Ethics provide a blueprint for investigating the moral vision of the sages. Similar to Aristotle, the sages present the collaboration of character and intellect as the acme of moral development.”4

proverbs as a piece of moral literature In addition to its conceptual-ethical vision, I would add that as a piece of literature, Proverbs conceives of morality in educational terms. Its first nine chapters contain a series of lessons that set the goals of the book, directing the thoughts and desires of its audience toward them (e.g., 1:1–7; 4:1–9; 8:32–36). By heeding the father’s instruction and with the help of the Lord, everyone who is teachable can embrace wisdom in order to grow in wise character. That – character, formed by wisdom – is the aim of Proverbs, and it arrives by attending to parental instruction as given in the book and by subservience to the Lord who grants one growth in wise character.5 With heart and mind turned toward these sources, the educational aim of Proverbs is further realized in the advice of chapters 10–29, which include several collections of proverbs and the rare short poem that, when pondered and then followed, form wise individuals. In the words of Prov 22:6, “Train a child according to his way and even when he is old he will not turn aside from it.”6 “The principle expressed

3 4 5

6

no problem with calling many of the concepts in Proverbs “virtues” in a generic sense and independent of other moral traditions. But if the ethical tradition of the OT is to be renewed and find a seat at the table of moral philosophy, then it must be determined how these traditions cohere with and differ from each other. Ansberry, “What Does Jerusalem” (see esp. 166 and 169). Ansberry, “What Does Jerusalem,” 171. See Arthur Jan Keefer, Proverbs 1–9 as an Introduction to the Book of Proverbs, LHBOTS 701 (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2020). The difficulties with the Hebrew of this proverb have been largely resolved by commentators. What remains disputed is the interpretation of “his way,” which may refer to the morally right way, the child’s personal attitude or, relatedly, the way he prefers. Although the last is possible, even if taken as irony (so Richard Clifford, Proverbs: A Commentary [Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1999], 197), I regard Proverbs 1–9 as an interpretive authority for the rest of the book and consequently read “his way” as the way in which a child ought to be trained, namely, the way of wisdom (e.g., 2:20; 4:11; 8:20). The majority use of “his way” in Proverbs (e.g., 14:8; 16:9) offers little help, but other references to the pupil’s “way” match the priorities of Proverbs 1–9 (so 23:19).

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in this verse,” according to R. N. Whybray, “conforms exactly to that of the Instructions in chapters 1–9,” uniting the book’s moral aim as one of education.7 The lessons of Proverbs 1–9 and the advice of 10–29 culminate in Agur’s failure to attain wisdom (30:1–9) and the “excellent wife’s” successful achievements in it (31:10–31). Both figures cap the preceding paradigm by exemplifying contrary paths on the way to wisdom. Agur is loath to acknowledge any realization of wise character – “For I am too brutish for a man; and I do not have the understanding of a man; And I have not learned wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One I do not know” (30:2–3) – whilst the wife of Proverbs 31 is extolled for her panoramic display of wise living.8 But both move in the direction of wisdom and inform readers about the nature of that journey. The moral vision of Proverbs is educational, seen in the struggles of some to achieve it and the praise of those who have. Although “educational” may not at first sound like a significant label for the book’s moral vision, its significance becomes evident when the description is understood in terms of the book’s concern with wisdom, its coherent aim, and the means by which that aim is approached. To explain that education in terms of “enculturation” or individual “success” is too narrow and, in some cases, inaccurate, as we shall see below when accounting for the book’s character terms, and therefore it is the sense of educational as explained here that seems to capture the whole of Proverbs, including, finally, its opening claim to teach its readers wisdom (1:2–3) and yet enable them to dispense their learning as well (1:4).9

7

8 9

R. N. Whybray, Proverbs (London: Marshall Pickering, 1994), 320. Although 22:6 uses the imperative form, the proverbs of chapters 10–29 function in a variety of ways, often making indicative statements about character types or about the consequences of certain actions and ways of being, and yet by these means they all serve as instruction about how the world is and about how one ought to operate within it. See, among others, W. Dennis Tucker, “Literary Forms in the Wisdom Literature,” in An Introduction to Wisdom Literature and the Psalms: Festschrift Marvin E. Tate, ed. Harold Ballard and W. Dennis Tucker (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2000), 155–166. On Proverbs 30, see the discussion in Chapter 6. On the book’s promise to teach its audience and thereby enable them to be teachers, see Keefer, “A Shift in Perspective: The Intended Audience and a Coherent Reading of Proverbs 1:1–7,” JBL 136 (2017): 103–116. The view that Proverbs, especially chapters 10–29, served to enculturate its audience is not an entirely problematic way to interpret the book, and yet it becomes problematic to the extent that enculturation is set in opposition to the moral claims that Proverbs might place upon its readers, as can happen when the sayings of chapters 10–29 are no longer considered “advice” literature and rather read as suitable observations about society in which its audience should become well versed, causa

The Moral Characters of Proverbs

45

The broad sweep of Proverbs as a piece of literature does little to inform its particular moral conceptions, its understanding, for instance, of “justice,” “righteousness,” and “generosity,” which is of great consequence given the fact that it is those concepts that forge, what I have called, an unsubstantiated link with virtue ethics. For, to return to Ansberry, while the core conclusion about the overarching moral visions is convincing – that both Proverbs and the NE integrate human character and intellect in the process of moral maturation – he nevertheless seems to assume that the particular moral concepts in Proverbs resemble virtues as understood by Aristotle, and as a logical consequence makes Proverbial “justice,” for instance, comparable to the “justice” spoken of by Aristotle.10 But based on Proverbs’ underlying conception of morality, all we can say is that the book envisions people who mature into wise people and gives a manifold depiction of what that looks like.

the moral characters of proverbs That depiction is epitomized in one remaining feature of Proverbs, which may promote its favor among virtue ethics, that is, its character types. The wise, the wicked, the righteous, and the fool populate the book, and they serve as its primary vehicle of moral advancement. For the Proverbial son should avoid “sinners” (1:10), and the expected responses to instruction come from either the “wise” or the “scoffers” (9:7–12), who are followed by the percussive repetition of good and evil characters in Proverbs 10–15. Character types do not describe the way the world actually is or was, as if “the wise” were to be found walking the streets or the sluggard were an actual neighbor. Fools of the sort that appear in the book do not match, exactly, the fools of history, creating a disjunction between literature and reality that is most evident based on how these characters are portrayed in the book. They strike the reader as extreme, as exaggerated, as exemplars of good on the one hand and

10

finita. The book’s use of character types, which transform many cases of indicative statement into ethical advice, and the aims and ideas that shape the whole of the book, some of which have been noted above, suggest that theories of enculturation that debar the normative character of the text are incomplete. For similar assumptions, see Brown, Wisdom’s Wonder, 11–66; Fox, “Ethics”; Benjamin Farley, In Praise of Virtue: An Exploration of the Biblical Virtues in a Christian Context (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 87–90; and Treier, Proverbs, 66–102 (see discussion in Chapter 6).

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bad on the other. “The reader,” argues Sun Myung Lyu, “is encouraged to practice and emulate the ideal person, and as a result, to become one. For those who set their course to follow the journey, the righteous person provides a paradigm of life that they can ‘conjugate’ into concrete values and behaviors.”11 As caricatures, Proverbial character types hold a certain function. They stand as models intended for interpreters to emulate or disparage, meaning that one ought to view the wise man’s exemplary character as an ideal to aspire to: to speak like him, to respond like him, to posture oneself in proper devotion like him. Likewise, the ways and wiles of the fool ought to be avoided: how he speaks, feels, and relates to God. But to say that these characters embody virtue or vice again involves an unsubstantiated parallel between the moral vision of Proverbs and virtue ethics. Aristotle, as we will see, makes scant use of “character types” and his brief appeals to such people are quite different from what Proverbs has in mind. The assumption that equates Proverbial “justice” with Aristotelian “justice” and asserts that the moral concepts of Proverbs equate to the moral virtues expounded in the NE is problematic, and yet no one has taken the foundational step of considering how Aristotle’s criteria for defining virtue compare to the concepts in Proverbs.12 It is not enough to say that the names of moral concepts (e.g., “justice”) match or even that the meaning of these concepts resemble each other. The definitive criteria

11

12

Sun Myung Lyu, Righteousness in the Book of Proverbs, FAT II 55 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 63. Neither has such a study been conducted for virtue concepts found elsewhere in the OT, except for the following: Otto Kaiser (Gott, Mensch und Geschichte: Studien zum Verständnis des Menschen und seiner Geschichte in der klassischen, biblischen und nachbiblischen Literatur, BZAW 413 [Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2010], 305–340) uses Aristotle’s NE as a starting point for considering the motives, means, and ends of ethics in Ben Sira and Paul; Zoltan Schwab (Toward an Interpretation of the Book of Proverbs: Selfishness and Secularity Reconsidered, JTISupp [Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013]) interprets the self-interest and higher ends of Proverbs with Thomistic criteria; M. Daniel Carroll R., “Seeking the Virtues among the Prophets: The Book of Amos as a Test Case,” Ex Auditu 17 (2001): 77–96. On eudaimonia in Proverbs, see Holger Delkurt, Ethische Einsichten in der alttestamentlichen Spruchweisheit (Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1993); Carol A. Newsom, “Positive Psychology and Ancient Israelite Wisdom,” in The Bible and the Pursuit of Happiness: What the Old and New Testaments Teach Us about the Good Life, ed. Brent A. Strawn (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 117–135; Harry Ranston, The Old Testament Wisdom Books and Their Teaching (London: Epworth Press, 1930), 91–97.

What Are Moral Virtues according to Aristotle?

47

for what makes these concepts virtues must govern the comparison. This means that the moral vision of Proverbs must be analyzed to a depth not yet reached, looking not to the form and function of its character types or to the utility of its consequential statements or to the theological height of its ethical stature but looking rather at how the book conceives of action and emotion and how this conception compares to the criteria set out in the NE, which only then can ground conclusions about how “Aristotelian” the moral vision of Proverbs is. Perhaps the “virtues” in Proverbs are Aristotelian; perhaps they differ substantially. I will argue that the actions and emotions depicted in the moral instructions of Proverbs cohere with Aristotle’s understanding of moral virtue and vice, especially his notion of the mean. In other words, certain concepts in Proverbs meet Aristotle’s criteria for virtue and vice and are therefore virtues and vices in the Aristotelian sense. Although the previous chapter introduced Aristotle’s scheme of virtue, a more detailed look is required if his moral philosophy is to prove at all helpful for interpreting Proverbs.

what are moral virtues according to aristotle? “A moral virtue [ἡ ἀρετὴ ἡ ἠθικὴ]” says Aristotle, “is a settled disposition of the mind determining the choice of actions and emotions, consisting essentially in the observance of the mean relative to us, this being determined by principle, that is, as the prudent man would determine it” (NE 2.6.15). Here Aristotle gives his densest definition of virtue and incorporates three primary components: a settled disposition of the mind, the mean, and the prudent man’s standard. A “settled disposition of the mind” is not only an intellectual state. It refers more to a formed state of character composed of both intellect and emotion. When virtues of character operate, says Aristotle, they do so from “deliberate desire,” an interdependent operation of intellect and emotion (6.2.5) that makes the “settled disposition of the mind” not a state where the intellect holds final governance over the body in moral action but where, ideally, the head and heart work in concert. As settled dispositions based on an intellectual–emotional integration, virtues determine “the choice of actions and emotions” within each individual. They posture one well or ill toward feelings, like anger or fear, and dispose us rightly or wrongly toward behaviors, like speaking or running (2.5.1–2.6.15), meaning that actions and emotions are not naturally good or bad. Eating, for instance, constitutes a morally neutral action, one made either virtuous or

48

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vicious depending on how much someone eats. To eat rightly requires virtue, and therefore virtues might be called “excellences of character” or “right states of acting and feeling” so that a virtue “not only renders the thing itself good, but it also causes it to perform its function well” (2.6.2). Virtue, then, for Aristotle is a disposition that determines the choice of actions and emotions. This choice consists in the “observance of the mean relative to us,” a remark that places virtue within a landscape of means and mean-states (2.6), where emotions and actions lie upon a continuum, with deficiency on one end and excess on the other. For example, an athlete can eat either too little or too much; the right amount constitutes the “mean” (τό μέσον), that action or feeling that is in between two extremes and yet just right. While the nature of the action or emotion is a “mean,” virtue itself is a “mean-state,” “a μεσότης between two vices . . . because it is the sort of thing able to hit the μέσον in feelings and actions” (2.9.1). Virtue is not simply a mean – the right amount of food – but a state that empowers a person to hit the mean – to actually eat the right amount of food. And the ability to eat this right amount, that is, to have the mean-state, is relative to the individual, depending upon the time, manner, place, and purpose of the action or emotion (2.6.11). The mean, therefore, is not necessarily a “moderate” amount of emotion or action. The athlete with a μεσότης (“mean-state”) regarding his diet eats the right amount, in view of all circumstantial variables, even though the amount that he must consume in order to eat virtuously would reflect the vice of gluttony for many people. A virtuous, nonathletic woman with the same virtuous disposition (μεσότης) requires less food to function ideally and therefore eats a different and lesser amount (μέσον). If she ate the same amount (μέσον) as the athletic man, she would not be virtuous but gluttonous; if she ate less than what she needs to function ideally, she would possess a deficient rather than virtuous appetite. The virtuous male athlete and the virtuous female nonathlete both have the right disposition (“mean-state”) toward eating, but this disposition leads them to eat different, virtuous amounts (“means”). Virtue is the power to hit the correct mean while accounting for a whole set of factors (2.4.13). Based on his definition of virtue and conception of the mean, Aristotle created a list of moral virtues, each of which pertains to a different action or emotion in human life.13 His list was not intended to be exhaustive and 13

Aristotle actually creates two lists, one in the EE and another in the NE, making reference in both texts to a table (EE 2.3.4; NE 2.7.1). The differences, noted in the footnote below,

What Are Moral Virtues according to Aristotle?

49

is, as he admits without a qualm, incomplete.14 The partial nature of the list attests to the liberality of Aristotle’s moral philosophy, which, as evident in Thomistic ethics and the sizable neo-Aristotelian tradition, can integrate other views of virtue.15 Proverbs too will take advantage of its accommodating style by gaining clarity on its own Aristotelian and biblical facets. Aristotle’s list comprises eleven moral virtues, as displayed in Table 3.1 with their respective vices of excess and deficiency. The significance of this list for interpreting Proverbs is in part comparative. It is legitimate to ask, for example, if actions of greed appear in the biblical material, or if evidence of sloth, slander, or magnanimity arises. So too must differences be considered, that is, to ask if Proverbs displays actions and emotions that do not appear on Aristotle’s list, as Proverbs might add a category, like work, and might also omit a category, such as playful conversation. While these comparative questions provide helpful modes of thought, and are explored in Chapter 4, they do not strike at the root of identifying Aristotelian moral virtues in Proverbs. What is needed

14

15

bear little consequence for my concerns, so I have created a composite list. For a starting point on the relation of the EE and NE, see Chris Bobonich, “Aristotle’s Ethical Treatises,” in The Blackwell Guide to Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, ed. Richard Kraut (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), 12–36. Michael Pakaluk (Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics: An Introduction [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005], 114) asserts that Aristotle intended his list in the NE to be exhaustive, citing 3.5.23 and suggesting that each domain of virtue is based on some “basic good.” Although 3.5.23 mentions the aim of seeing “how many virtues there are,” Pakaluk’s argument for an exhaustive list is questionable. First, Aristotle concludes that his thesis of the mean holds “in all things [ἐν πȃσιν]” (NE 2.9.9), and earlier includes virtues of social intercourse “in order to better discern that in all things the mean-state is to be praised” (2.7.11). Rather than providing a comprehensive list, his comments about “in all things” suggest that he may have intended to show that his theory of virtue has the ability to apply to any area of feeling and action. Second, his lists in the EE and NE differ enough to suggest that he does not intend to be exhaustive (see below), and within the NE he does not resume the discussion of righteous indignation, an odd omission if he has indeed generated a comprehensive list (NE 2.7.15). Third, he says at the outset, “let it be granted to begin with that the whole theory of conduct is bound to be an outline only and not an exact system” (2.2.3). Aristotle’s list is possibly exhaustive, but it is more likely representative of a conception of morality that applies to various contexts with the potential to extend into additional areas of conduct. For possible objections and an overall evaluation of Aristotle’s scheme of virtue, see Alasdair MacIntyre, A Short History of Ethics: A History of Moral Philosophy from the Homeric Age to the Twentieth Century (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1966), 64–69; Bernard Williams, Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy (London: Routledge, 1985), 34–59.

50

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

Table 3.1 Aristotle’s moral virtuesa Action

Virtue

Vice (deficiency)

Vice (excess)

Receive honor (major) Seek honor (minor)

Greatness of spirit

Smallness of spirit Unambitiousness

Vanity Ambition

Stinginess

Prodigality

Shabbiness Surliness

Extravagance Flattery/ obsequious

Giving/getting (minor) Major spending Regard for others

Pride/proper ambition Liberality Magnificence Friendliness

Emotion Pleasure/pain Anger Fearb Indignation

Temperance Gentleness Courage Righteous indignation

Insensibility Spiritlessness Rashness Malice

Licentiousness Irascibility Cowardice Envy

Self-deprecation Boorishness

Boastfulness Buffoonery

Speech Talking about self Playful conversation

Truthfulness Wittiness

a

Table 3.1 excludes the virtues of “the just” and “wisdom,” which appear on the chart in the EE, because they receive distinct and complex treatment by Aristotle (NE 2.7.16). The table combines lists from the NE and EE. The former includes, uniquely, pride as a virtue of honor and dishonor, wittiness as the virtue of conversation, and endurance as the virtue of enduring pain; the last includes dignity and endurance. I have omitted endurance as a distinct virtue because it relates closely to temperance and restraint, which Aristotle then differentiates from each other in NE 7. Indignation receives full discussion only in EE 3.7.1–2 and so it is also omitted from the table. The discussion of friendliness in NE 4.6 shows little distinction from “dignity,” which appears on the EE’s list but not in its discussion. b On reconciling Aristotle’s dual conceptions of fear and confidence in regards to courage, see David Pears, “Courage as a Mean,” in Rorty, Essays, 171–187. I use “fear” throughout rather than “confidence” or a combination of the two for simplicity’s sake, and because Aristotle maintains his discussion on courage with reference, primarily, to fear (NE 2.7.2; 3.6–9; see esp. 3.7.10–12).

are criteria: principles by which to determine what is and is not a virtue. Otherwise, the comparison of lists remains cursory, and points of correspondence may actually be illusions. Thankfully, Aristotle’s definition of virtue provides three criteria for pinpointing virtues in

Hebrew Vocabulary for “Virtue”

51

Proverbs: (1) actions and emotions are praised and blamed; (2) vices err in excess and deficiency; (3) virtues hit the mean.16 These will act as interpretive guidelines for this chapter, but before explaining them in full, it is worth asking whether there is any biblical vocabulary for “virtue.”

hebrew vocabulary for “virtue” To assess what the OT might say about “virtue,” we must first ask what sort of vocabulary it employs for concepts related to moral character. Broadening the lexical horizon on Aristotle’s language briefly, ἡ ἀρετή refers to “goodness” or “excellence” of any sort, as exemplified in the writings of Homer, who describes the heroic deeds and qualities of humans and gods (e.g., Iliad 9.498; 20.411). The term also describes the excellence of a land or an animal, but for Aristotle, and others, the term particularly qualifies the “excellence” of humans and their actions, often in the sense of “moral excellence.” In addition to the many texts cited in Chapter 2, Aristotle’s Politics states that “the happy life is the life that is lived without impediment in accordance with virtue” (Pol. 4.11).17 According to Demosthenes, “For of all virtue [ἁπάσης ἀρετῆς], indeed it is the case that the beginning is understanding and the fulfillment is courage” (D. 60.17). The lexeme ἀγᾰθός can refer to “good” in a broad sense, with various nuances of “capable/beneficial/serviceable” appearing in classical literature. At times it resembles “virtue,” as when Heraclitus says, “What thought or wisdom is theirs? They follow the poets and take the crowd as their teacher, not knowing that ‘The many are bad, and the few good [ἀγαθοί].’” (Fr. 104). Despite the overlap of ἀγᾰθός and ἀρετή, in the NE Aristotle most often uses ἀγᾰθός to refer to “the good” as the right and best aim of some human act, person, or institution, such as the goal of

16

17

These criteria pertain to Aristotle’s moral virtues rather than his intellectual virtues (theoretical wisdom, scientific knowledge, intuitive knowledge, practical wisdom, and craft skill), which warrant their own discussion entirely (NE 6). Proverbs that feature intellectual activities, especially heeding instruction, include 10:8, 17; 11:14, 22; 12:15, 26; 13:1, 13–14; 14:6, 8, 12, 15, 33; 15:5, 14, 22; 16:16, 22, 25; 17:4, 16, 24; 18:15; 19:8, 16, 20, 27; 20:18; 21:11–12, 16; 22:17; 23:12, 22–23, 26–28; 24:3–7; 28:9; 29:12; 30:24–28. Those that feature character as such, rather than actions and emotions that fall on a mean, include 10:9, 23, 25, 29–30; 11:3, 5–6, 8, 19–21, 23, 29–31; 12:3, 7, 21, 27; 13:16, 21; 14:1, 11, 14, 18–19, 24, 32; 15:21, 24; 16:17, 30–31; 17:11; 19:10; 20:5, 7, 11; 21:18; 23:19; 24:8–9; 26:7, 9–11; 26:27; 27:3, 19; 28:2, 6, 10, 12, 15, 18, 28; 29:7, 16. All translations in this section are my own.

52

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

human investigation (1.1) or “the good of one person” and the “good of a nation or state” (1.2). “Virtue” (ἀρετή) acquires an almost technical sense in the NE, as was hinted at above and evident fully in what follows (e.g., NE 2.6.15). In the NT, ἀρετή occurs three times and is often translated “excellence,” whether of humans or God (Phil 4:8; 1 Pet 2:9; 2 Pet 1:3) and likely refers to moral excellence, as it parallels “godliness” in 2 Pet 1:3 and summarizes a list of high-minded ethical objects, such as honor and justice, in Phil 4:8. In the Wisdom of Solomon, it functions as a term for “moral virtue” in ways reminiscent of classical Greek: the opposite of “wickedness” (5:13), worthy of imitation (4:1–2), and descriptive of particular “virtues” (8:7). The LXX contains six occurrences that in two cases refer to the “splendor” (‫ )הוד‬of the Lord (Hab 3:3) or the Messiah (Zech 6:13), both in contexts of majestic and powerful rule. LXX Isaiah uses ἀρετή for the singular or plural of ‫“( תהלה‬praise[s]”) of God. This praise is given to no other (42:8), is declared by humans (42:12; 43:21), and demonstrated, like the Lord’s ‫“( חסד‬steadfast love”), through his gifts, salvation, and acts of “great goodness” to his people (63:7). The decisions of the LXX seem to align ἀρετή with only one of its senses, given the meanings of ‫ הוד‬and ‫תהלה‬, as something splendorous or praiseworthy. In my judgment, the lexeme ‫ חיל‬is the closest Hebrew term to ἀρετή, particularly within its ethical lexical domain. ‫ חיל‬refers to physical “strength” in the context of heroics (Josh 1:14; Isa 5:22 // ‫)גבר‬ or sexual virility (Prov 31:3), an “army” as such (Exod 14:4; Dan 11:7), “wealth” (Prov 13:22), and lastly “ability” or “excellence,” in caring for sheep (Gen 47:6) or judging a people (Exod 18:21).18 This last instance – “able men” of Israel – connotes moral ability, for as the passage says these men also fear the Lord and hate bribes. In the cases when ‫ חיל‬is used to describe women, it similarly means “strength of character” (Ruth 3:11; Prov 12:4; 31:10) and is appropriately rendered “virtuous” in these instances, which arise within contexts that spell out its exact substance. Ruth is depicted as a woman of worthy character throughout the book of Ruth, and in the same way the “woman of virtue” in Prov 31:10 receives an entire profile of qualities that expound her virtuosity (vv. 11–31).19 18

19

For a good summary of the lexeme, especially its distribution in the OT, see TWOT 624a. The SDBH refers to it as “substance” in many contexts. Al Wolters (“Proverbs XXXI 10–31 as Heroic Hymn: A Form-Critical Analysis,” VT 38 [1988]: 446–457, esp. 453–457) closely associates the heroic sense of ‫ חיל‬with Prov 31:10, which may have some credence to it. However, it seems that if the woman is “heroic,” then Prov 31:11–31 qualifies her as “heroic [with respect to moral character].”

What Actions and Emotions Deserve Praise and Blame?

53

Like ἀγᾰθός, ‫“( טוב‬good”) can refer to moral goodness, qualifying a “good man” (Prov 14:14) or defining an act as “not good” (Prov 17:26), and yet it has a greater scope of meaning than ‫חיל‬, and is not used in contexts that seem to designate strengths of character as such. “Good people” in Proverbs, for instance, are one of many character types who seem to be ‫( חיל‬e.g., the upright, the wise, the righteous). However, the special designation of ‫ חיל‬carries nuances of “strength” or “ability/ excellence” not conveyed by “good.” The lexeme ‫שרי‬ ׁ ‫ א‬means “blessed” or “happy” and often describes people blessed by God. Wisdom and good character unsurprisingly receive such blessing (e.g., Prov 3:13; 14:21) but being blessed does not seem determinative of or interchangeable with being strong in character; it is more a consequence of character. The moral vocabulary of the OT is diverse, and as we shall see Proverbs employs an apparent encyclopedia of terms for moral attributes such as “wisdom” and “generosity.” As for “virtue” specifically, there is not enough textual evidence to say that there was a Hebrew equivalent to ἀρετή, but a plausible case can be made that ‫ חיל‬gets closest to this Greek term in meaning, especially in the sense of “moral virtue” understood, at this point, in its broad sense as opposed to the technical way that the NE employs it. For the remainder of this chapter Aristotle’s criteria of virtue are delineated, and Proverbs is then interpreted based on those criteria in order to discover which of its concepts it sees as virtues and vices. The first criterion pertains to the praise and blame of action and emotion.

identify: what actions and emotions deserve praise and blame? Throughout NE 2.6, Aristotle is interested in the features of virtue and vice and, no less, with identifying them: “Now feelings and actions are the objects with which virtue is concerned; and in feelings and actions excess and deficiency are errors, while the mean amount is praised, and constitutes success; and to be praised and successful are both marks of virtue” (NE 2.6.12).20 Virtue is known by its praise and, although it is not

20

For “feelings,” also connoting attitudes/postures, Aristotle uses πάθη, which I refer to in terms of “emotions/feelings/affections” without distinction. Using the language of “emotions” here does not assume a particular linguistic history, especially not that conception of emotion as “non-cognitive and involuntary – that is, as exempt from the rule of reason and the role of the will” that arose in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the use of which Phillip Lasater (“‘The Emotions’ in Biblical Anthropology?

54

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

mentioned here, vice is identified by disparagement or blame (2.5.3), introducing our first criterion – that virtue is praised and vice blamed – for an analysis of Proverbs that will identify possible virtues and vices within the book.21 Within the whole of Proverbs, Proverbs 1–9 most explicitly praises and blames certain actions and emotions. The opening scenario in Prov 1:10–19 exhibits a gang, thirsty for blood and tempting to the young “son,” so that his father warns, “if sinners entice you, do not consent” (1:10). The father claims that these sinners will die and are “greedy for unjust gain” (1:19a) and thus disapproves of the greed in this scene by naming it and warning against it. Aristotle, in his discussion about getting money, names greed as a vice of those who get too much, in the wrong way, and at the wrong time. This sort of financial acquisition appears in Prov 1:10–19, which disapproves of excessive gain, and suggests that the vice of greed is being depicted. This scene forms one part of a more coherent moral vision regarding money in the book of Proverbs, as it disapproves of greed (15:27) and stinginess (11:24–26), and praises generosity (14:21). For example, “Whoever multiplies his wealth by interest and profit [i.e. greed] gathers it for him who is generous to the poor [i.e. generosity]” (28:8). This material corroborates the example in Prov 1:10–19, which demonstrates how Proverbs uses praise and blame to approve and disapprove of actions and emotions. By applying this method to the whole of Proverbs 1–9, six actions and four emotions are identified that meet Aristotle’s first criterion for virtue. Proverbs 1–9 evaluates not only actions related to money, but also work (6:6–11), showing mercy (3:27, 31), reproof (9:8), dispute (3:30), regard from others (3:35; 5:9), speech (6:17, 19), self-regard (3:7), cheer (5:11–14), and fear (3:24–26), clearly praising and/or blaming these actions and emotions. The same objects and their praise or blame corollaries appear in Proverbs 10–31, which again includes work (10:4–5), showing mercy (21:10), giving reproof (23:13–14), dispute (12:20), regard from others (13:18), speech (10:19), self-regard (11:2), anger

21

A Genealogy and Case Study with ‫ירא‬,” HTR 110 [2017]: 520–540) has sharply criticized among biblical interpreters (526). For this sense of ψέγω, often translated “blame,” see Plato’s Rep. 358a and Xenophon’s Mem. 4.4.14 (cf. Plato’s Rep. 494a and Gorg. 510a). If understood as “blame,” then Aristotle means that excess and deficiency are blamed for causing moral error. Terms like “disparage” or “disapprove” more clearly capture the sense.

What Actions and Emotions Deserve Praise and Blame?

55

(14:29), cheer (15:13), and fear (28:1).22 In addition to confirming all of the praise and blame of concepts from 1–9, Proverbs 10–31 adds a fifth disposition in the category of emotion: appetite toward food and drink. A self-controlled appetite is praised in Prov 23:1–2, while drunkenness and gluttony are condemned in 23:20–21.23 The particular actions and emotions referred to so far are praised or blamed as such. For instance, the appetitive indulgence just mentioned leaves no room for approval: “the drunkard and glutton will come to poverty, and slumber will clothe them with rags” (23:21). The disapproval of an excessive appetite is not ambiguous here. However, some actions and emotions are not praised and blamed with such direct condemnation but are instead identified more obliquely. Much of Proverbs, especially 10:1–22:16, associates an action or a feeling with a certain type of person, which then qualifies the act or feeling as praise- or blameworthy. For example, in Prov 10:16 “the wage of the righteous leads to life, the produce of the wicked to sin.” Both the righteous and wicked persons acquire possessions, yet the proverb mentions nothing about greed or generosity or stinginess or profligacy. In the context of Proverbs, of course, “life” is good and “sin” is bad, which is where the respective monies lead, but the action of receiving valuables, implied by the references to “wage” and “produce,” is not praised or condemned as such in this passage; one simply leads to life and the other to sin. The evaluation of the action therefore depends upon its agent – the righteous or wicked person – with whom a neutral action (e.g., acquiring money) is associated. In this way, Prov 10:16 praises money gained by the righteous and

22

23

It should be noted that in Proverbs 1–9 anger is not explicitly condemned but disapproved of by implication (so 1:11–14; 3:29–30), and giving reproof, which appears generically (9:8), is implicitly praised through the positive portrayal of the mother’s and father’s disciplinary tactics (1:8–9; 6:23–24). These two faculties – anger and reproof – receive a clear evaluation in Proverbs 10–31. Proverbs 14:29 condemns hasty anger: “Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but he who has a hasty temper exalts folly.” Likewise, discipline towards children is praised in Prov 13:24; 19:18 and 23:13–14. Some proverbs evaluate more than one action or emotion. For example, Prov 21:21 says, “The one who pursues righteousness and kindness will find life, righteousness, and honor,” implying that kindness (i.e. showing mercy) and honor (i.e. regard from others) both deserve praise. I have categorized Proverbs’ material based on what action or emotion, in my judgment, is most prominently on display, admitting that some passages nevertheless demand dual categories, including Prov 11:16; 15:18, 31; 16:7; 17:4; 18:12; 19:1, 3, 12, 14, 26, 29; 20:14, 19, 25; 21:2, 15, 17, 21, 23, 26, 27, 29; 22:5; 23:6–8, 13–16; 24:1–2, 18; 25:24; 26:16, 18–19; 27:21; 28:7, 12; 29:2–3, 19, 23; 30:15–16, 32–33; 31:17.

56

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

disapproves of money gained by the wicked. The same can be said for much of Proverbs (e.g., 10:14, 24; cf. 20:15), which often qualifies actions and feelings by associating them with character types, who were explained above, and although it may seem at odds, such a method does not contradict Aristotle’s first criterion for virtue, which identifies virtues and vices through praise and blame. Rather, these proverbs demonstrate that the book evaluates actions and feelings not only by means of direct praise and blame but also by means of associating them with certain morally loaded characters. Proverbs praises and blames certain actions and emotions, issuing a first step toward determining if the “virtues” in Proverbs are Aristotelian virtues. But this is only one criterion.

evaluate: do the “virtues” lie on a mean? In addition to praise and blame, another criterion for determining virtues is Aristotle’s notion of the “mean.” For in actions and emotions, one can have excess or deficiency or a due mean. For example, one can be frightened or bold, feel desire or anger or pity, and experience pleasure and pain in general, either too much or too little, and in both cases wrongly; whereas to feel these feelings at the right time, on the right occasion, towards the right people, for the right purpose and in the right manner, is to feel the best amount of them, which is the mean amount – and the best amount is of course the mark of virtue. (NE 2.6.10–11)

For Aristotle, emotions and actions lie upon a continuum, with deficiency on one end and excess on the other. As mentioned above, an athlete can eat either too little or too much. The right amount constitutes the “mean” (μέσον) and the virtue that enables him to hit the mean is a “mean-state” (μεσότης). So virtue is not simply a calculated quantity of feeling or action but a state that hits the mean in view of circumstantial variables. An athlete is virtuous because he has a disposition that enables him to eat enough to perform well rather than eating too much or too little and thereby compromising his performance. He eats in the right manner, at the right time, and for the right purpose, rather than violating these factors by over- or under-indulging. This model of excess, deficiency, and mean-state is precisely what appears in Proverbs. Ansberry argues that Aristotle’s notion of the mean “finds no parallel in Proverbs.”24 According to him, the book of Proverbs instead “presents 24

Ansberry, “What Does Jerusalem,” 169.

Evaluate: Do the “Virtues” Lie on a Mean?

57

a static, bipolar world in which the righteous are set against the wicked . . . While Aristotle perceives virtue as an intermediate state between two extremes, Proverbs assumes a bipolar world in which all people belong to one of two distinguishable groups based on their moral and intellectual disposition.”25 Ansberry correctly claims that Proverbs depicts people in bipolar terms – the righteous and wicked, the wise and foolish, and so on – and yet this depicted polarity does not represent Proverbs’ underlying conception of morality. According to Ansberry, one person in Proverbs does not fit its bipolar scheme: the simpleton, who is deliberately portrayed in a liminal state to instill the hope of moral and intellectual transformation.26 I would argue, however, that accounting for Aristotle’s mean-state explains the presence of this apparent outlier and integrates him into a moral vision consistent with Aristotle’s notion of the mean. The connection appears in the action of heeding instruction. The wise person listens to instruction and heeds wise teaching; fools despise and refuse to heed it (e.g., 1:20–33; 9:7–8); and the simpleton heeds too much and thereby deserves disapproval (14:15).27 First, the evaluation of these characters meets Aristotle’s first criterion for virtue, as the action of heeding instruction is praised and blamed. Second, the distribution of this action among the characters corresponds to Aristotle’s second criterion: excess, deficiency, and mean-state. The fool reflects a deficiency of heeding instruction, so he rejects instruction and fails to heed it, proving himself and his compatriots – the wicked, treacherous, scoffer, and so on – incorrigible. They do not heed instruction enough. On the other end of the spectrum is not the wise person, as the “bipolar” language would have us think, but the simpleton. According to Prov 14:15, “The simple believes everything, but the prudent gives thought to his steps.” The simpleton “believes everything” (‫)יאמין לכל־דבר‬, that is, he listens when he should not, and so rather than being incorrigible, the simpleton is wholly gullible. He heeds teaching to an excessive degree.28

25 26 27

28

Ansberry, “What Does Jerusalem,” 169. Ansberry, “What Does Jerusalem,” 169. Similarly Barton, Ethics, 158–159. Most of the remaining characters in Proverbs, like the righteous and wicked, fall within the wise or foolish category. For a defense of the coreferentiality of characters, see Knut Heim, “Coreferentiality, Structure and Context in Proverbs 10:1–5,” Journal of Translation and Textlinguistics 6 (1993): 183–209. Proverbs does not always display the simpleton in this way and once aligns him with those who fail to heed wise teaching (1:32). Another intellectual category of virtue/vice

58

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

The wise person finds the mean between excessive and deficient heeding. Instead of being incorrigible or gullible, the wise are critically teachable. For they heed wise teaching (1:5; 9:8b–9; cf. 2:1–5; 15:14; 22:17) but at the same time do not listen to each and every voice of advice (e.g., 5:1–6). In Aristotle’s words, the wise heed instruction “at the right time, on the right occasion, towards the right people, for the right purpose and in the right manner.” The wise person and similar characters “hit the mean” of heeding instruction and therefore possess the “mean-state” (μεσότης) that is virtue, unlike the fool who heeds not enough and the simpleton who heeds too much. So while the characters of Proverbs appear bipolar, and in certain respects are, they stand within a moral vision consistent with Aristotle’s understanding of the mean.29 The remainder of this chapter shows that the actions and emotions in Proverbs – work, discipline, anger, fear, and so on – stand within that same vision, where vices are an excess or deficiency in action and emotion, and virtues hit the mean. It might be objected that Proverbs censures some actions absolutely, and that these actions then would not lie on a mean. For example, Proverbs condemns murder (1:10–19; 6:17c) and adultery (ch. 5; 6:20–34) outright, depicting no μεσότης for these actions, as no one commits adultery at the right time, in the right place or with the right person. However, Aristotle makes provision for such absolutes, including adultery and murder in a separate list of wrongs to conclude that “All these and similar actions and feelings are blamed as being bad in themselves; it is not the excess or deficiency of them that we blame” (2.6.18). Rather than falling on a mean, categorically wrong actions and feelings find a place in the moral vision of Aristotle and Proverbs, revealing not an objection but a place of agreement.30

29

30

may be the amount of knowledge possessed, with ignorance as a vice of deficiency (see 5:6; 7:23; 9:18). Ansberry (“What Does Jerusalem,” 169) himself, just after objecting to the presence of Aristotle’s mean in Proverbs, notes “virtues” in Proverbs, some of which, like “physical consumption,” are explained not in terms of bipolarity but a mean-state. Other actions or emotions that constitute absolutes in Proverbs include: speaking truth versus lying (6:17, 19; 10:18; 11:1; 12:19, 20; 14:5; 17:9, 20; 20:17; 23:16; 24:23–26; 28:13, 21; cf. 20:15); fearing the Lord and revering parents versus despising the Lord and one’s parents (14:2; 20:20; 23:22; 28:14); instructions about various personal associations (see Chapter 5); and possibly keeping the law versus forsaking it or sinning (13:6; 28:4; 29:18; Prov 13:6 should otherwise be included with the character category, and 28:4 and 29:18 with intellectual activities). A complete list of absolutes: 11:1; 12:5, 17, 19, 22; 13:6, 23; 14:5, 22, 25, 34; 16:12; 17:13, 15, 20, 23, 26; 18:5; 19:5, 9, 22, 28;

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

59

Table 3.2 Moral virtues in Proverbs Action

Virtue

Vice (deficiency)

Vice (excess)

Work Discipline Regard from others Giving wealth Getting wealth Showing mercy Dispute Appetite

Diligence Reproving Honor Generosity

Sloth Coddling Shame Stinginess

Kindness Peacemaking Self-control

Leniency Passivity Hunger

Overwork Abuse Overpraise Prodigality Greed Cruelty Contention Gluttony/ drunkenness

Emotion Cheer Anger Fear Self-regard

Gladness Slow to Anger Courage Humility

Sorrow Spiritless Rashness Diffidence

Levity Wrath Cowardice Pride

Harmful Flattery Mute Dither

Glib Abuse Unrestrained Rash

Speech Quality Purpose Amount Timing

Kind/tender Rebuke Measured Thoughtful/timely

moral virtues in proverbs: excess, deficiency, and the mean-state The following section presents the application of Aristotle’s three criteria across Proverbs and a defense of the book’s virtues, demonstrating that (1) virtues of action and emotion in Proverbs are identifiable through praise and blame; that (2) the vices reflect excess and deficiency in action and emotion; and that (3) the virtues “hit the mean” of these actions and emotions. Regarding the first premise, seven actions and four emotions were identified, as well as four types of action related to speech.31 If these constitute virtues or vices in the Aristotelian sense, then they must correspond to his understanding of deficiency, excess, and the mean-state. Table 3.2 summarizes what, I will argue, are the “virtues” and “vices” of Proverbs. Table 3.3 again presents the full list of categories but with

31

20:6, 9–10, 20, 23; 21:8, 28; 22:8, 22–23; 24:23–26, 28–29; 25:8–10, 13, 18; 26:6; 28:17, 21; 29:14, 27; 30:17, 20; 31:9, 12. This numbering counts giving wealth and getting wealth as a single action.

60

Moral Virtues in Proverbs

Table 3.3 Passages for moral virtues in Proverbs Action Work

Discipline Regard from others Giving/getting wealth

Showing mercy

Dispute Appetite

10:4–5, 26; 12:11, 24, 27; 13:4, 17; 14:4, 23; 15:19; 18:9; 19:15, 24; 20:4, 13; 21:5, 25; 22:13, 29; 23:4–5; 24:27, 30–34; 26:13–15; 27:23–27; 28:19; 31:13–15, 17, 19, 22, 27a 12:1; 13:24; 15:10, 12, 31–32; 19:18, 25; 20:30; 22:6, 15; 23:13–14; 25:12; 26:3; 27:5–6, 22; 29:1, 15, 17, 21 10:7; 11:27; 12:4, 8; 13:5, 15, 18; 14:9, 28, 35; 16:13–15; 17:2, 6; 18:3; 19:12; 20:2, 29; 22:1; 26:1, 8; 27:18; 31:23, 28–31 10:2, 15–16; 11:4, 15, 18, 24–26; 13:7–8, 11, 22; 14:21, 31; 15:6, 16, 27; 16:8; 17:8, 18; 18:11, 16; 19:17; 20:14, 16–17, 21; 21:6, 14, 26; 22:7, 9, 16, 26–28; 23:4–5, 10–11; 25:14; 27:13; 28:8, 20, 22, 24, 27; 29:4; 30:15–16; 31:16, 18, 24 10:6, 12; 11:16–17; 12:10; 13:2; 16:29; 19:22, 26; 20:6, 8, 26; 21:7, 13, 21; 24:11–12, 15–16; 25:21–22; 28:3, 16; 29:10; 30:14; 31:20 b 12:20; 13:10; 16:7, 28; 17:1, 14, 19; 18:18–19; 19:13; 20:3; 21:9–10, 19; 22:10; 25:24; 26:17, 21; 27:15–17; 29:8c 12:12; 13:12, 19, 25; 16:26; 19:2; 20:1; 21:17, 20; 23:1–3, 17, 20–21, 29–35; 25:16, 27–28; 27:7, 20; 31:4–7d Emotion

Cheer

Anger Fear Self-regard

10:1; 11:10; 12:25; 13:9; 14:10, 13; 15:13, 15, 20, 30; 17:5, 21–22, 25; 18:14; 21:15; 23:15–16, 24–25; 24:17–18; 25:20; 26:18–19; 27:9, 11, 14; 29:2–3, 6, 9 12:16; 14:17, 29–30; 15:18; 16:32; 19:3, 11, 19, 29; 24:19–20; 25:23; 27:4; 29:22 10:24; 14:16; 21:22, 29; 22:3; 24:10; 25:25–26; 27:12; 28:1; 30:29–31; 31:21, 25 11:2; 12:9; 15:25, 33; 16:2, 5, 18–19; 18:12; 21:2, 24; 22:4–5; 25:6–7; 26:12, 16; 27:2, 21; 28:11; 29:23–24; 30:12–13, 21–23, 32–33 e Speech

All types

a

10:6, 10–11, 13–14, 18–21, 31–32; 11:9, 11–13; 12:6, 13–14, 18, 23; 13:3; 14:3; 15:1–2, 4, 7, 23, 26, 28; 16:21, 23–24, 27; 17:7, 9–10, 27–28; 18:2, 4, 6–7, 13, 20–21, 23; 19:1; 20:15, 25; 21:23; 22:18, 20–21; 23:9; 25:11, 15; 26:2, 4–5, 23–26, 28; 29:5, 11, 19–20; 30:10–11; 31:8, 26f

Proverbs 13:17 does pertain to speech, but the reliability of one tasked as a messenger, who bears more than verbal responsibilities, better suits the work

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context. The woman’s “strength” in 31:17, based on the context, contributes to her work, though it may also pertain to courage (31:25). b I interpret ‫ חסד‬as kindness (19:22; 20:6; see “Showing Mercy” below for more detail) and place references to “love” and “hatred” here because they occur in contexts of showing mercy (10:12; 29:10; cf. 15:17). c For 27:17 see Ronald Giese, “‘Iron Sharpens Iron’ as a Negative Image: Challenging the Common Interpretation of Proverbs 27:17,” JBL 135 (2016): 61–76. d Proverbs features appetite in the context of food, with general references to desire that errs in its object (12:12; 19:2 [possibly money in the verse’s financial context]; 27:20), as well as texts providing no clear praise or blame of human desire (13:12, 19), and single comments on envy (23:17) and self-control (25:28). For 11:6 and 11:23 see character texts above. e See Waltke (The Book of Proverbs: Chapters 15-31, NICOT [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005], 492–495) for pride in 30:21–23. f These references do not include absolute evaluations of speech, like telling the truth and lying, whether in the abstract or within a judicial context (see note 30, above).

their corresponding references and footnoted qualifications. Passages omitted from these tables include those related to intellect, character, and moral absolutes, which were mentioned above, and those pertaining to theological virtues, which are discussed in Chapter 6. These tables visualize what is to be argued: that many of the “virtues” in Proverbs are Aristotelian virtues. Although loosely grouped by “actions,” “emotions,” and “speech,” each of them must be delineated individually. For this examination requires an exhaustive treatment of topics, and no simpler or more dynamic presentation can be achieved without sacrificing the needed detail. Whilst by necessity a collection of discrete interpretations on each virtue, this chapter does begin with the most convincing examples.32

Cheerfulness If joy and sorrow are united to any one affection in Proverbs, it is cheerfulness. “A glad heart makes a cheerful face, but by sorrow of heart the spirit is crushed” (Prov 15:13). Gladness and cheer are here praised, and sorrow condemned, by the statement that a joyful heart makes others

32

On the apparent encyclopedic approach taken by this chapter, as if it gives each proverb equal weight and registers significance by means of frequency (i.e. the most frequent “virtues” are the most important), see the discussion early in Chapter 4.

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cheerful and a sorrowful heart crushes one’s spirit.33 These contrasting effects of joyful and sorrowful feelings can be understood as the approval and disapproval of rival emotions, given the respective association of each with knowledge and evil (15:14–15, 20a, 21a), implying that Prov 15:13 approves of the glad heart and disapproves of the sorrowful.34 The emotion common to both of these is “cheerfulness,” an inspiration to many poets and a feeling that is sometimes serene, often jovial, and certainly one that has been said to bring delight.35 The sorrowful person lacks cheer; she does not have enough of it, like the person who groans about being “in all ruin” (5:14a) or “sires a fool and gets himself grief” (17:21a), exhibiting a deficiency of cheer that is elsewhere contrasted with gladness (10:1; 15:15; 17:21–22). Even Wisdom herself feels delight rather than sorrow (8:30–31) and therefore makes sorrow a deficiency of cheerfulness – the sorrowful person does not have enough of it – and makes gladness the right amount of cheer, like the person with a “cheerful face” in Prov 15:13, wherein these emotions are respectively blamed and praised. Cheer itself, however, is not always applauded but may come in excess, even if that is simply due to its untimely expression: “Whoever sings songs to a sad heart is [like] one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and is [like] vinegar on soda” (Prov 25:20; also 27:14).36 The person who “sings

33

34

35 36

The phrase ‫“( עצבת־לב‬sorrow of heart”) may refer to “mental suffering,” making the second line not affective but rather “purely psychological” (Whybray, Proverbs, 230). ‫ עצבת‬can refer to “wounds” (Ps 147:3) or pain of a general nature (Job 9:28), but the verb ‫ עצב‬mainly expresses pain of an emotional sort, such as a father’s grief (1 Kg 1:6) or the distress of Joseph’s brothers (Gen 45:5), and like the noun occurs in contexts that contrast it with joy (cf. Neh 8:10; Ps 16:4). The ‫ עצבת‬in Prov 10:10 is too unclear to be helpful in this case, as is the relevant occurrence of ‫( ֶעֶצב‬Prov 10:22; cf. 15:1 and ‫“ דבר־עצב‬harsh [i.e. painful] word”). Not intent to divorce the lexeme’s sense of “pain,” there is perhaps a notion of “emotional pain” conveyed by 15:13, which is alluded to by Arndt Meinhold (Die Sprüche [Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1991], 253) in his translation (“Kummer des Herzens”) and comments on the “pain and grief in the heart.” Fox (Proverbs 10–31: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 18B [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009], 593) rightly recognizes that 15:13–17 is bound by ‫ לב‬and ‫טוב‬, and that verse 13 “implies that one should choose good cheer and avoid sadness” (594; italics my own). But based on the evaluative comments of verses 14–15 we can confidently say that the indicative comments of verse 13 express what ought to be. The connections of 13–17 extend to verse 24 (so Meinhold, Sprüche, 253), not least due to the “man of wrath” in verse 18, and further enforce the imperative force of the affections in verse 13. I have in mind Felicia Dorothea Browne Hemans’ poem “Ode to Cheerfulness.” The emended version of this proverb, which omits the first Hebrew line (removing a garment on a cold day), does not alter the point made here (cf. Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 786, and Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 306). For ‫ לב־רע‬as “sad heart,” cf. Gen 40:7 and Neh 2:2.

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songs” can rightly be described as cheerful, but this emotional connotation does not attract praise from the author and is, in the remainder of the passage, disapproved of. To sing songs to a gloomy friend is like stripping him bare in cold weather and evokes the seething response of vinegar on soda, images that convey not only discomfort and irritation but, in the moral realm, disapproval.37 The cheer in Prov 25:20 does not deserve blame in and of itself and therefore does not contradict the proverbs listed above that show the positive aspects of cheerfulness. Rather, 25:20 indicates that feelings of cheer can err, and that they do so in excess with respect to people and time. To sing songs to a “sad heart” is to express cheer by singing songs to the wrong person at the wrong time, to act in way that might be called “tactless.” The sad heart refers to someone who is burdened or depressed, someone who does not need a cheerful melody but rather silence, consolation, or a warm embrace. The person who responds rightly, in Bruce Waltke’s terms, would “know how and when to sorrow and to rejoice,” and it is this person, I contend, who would be virtuous in the Aristotelian sense.38 Proverbs 25:20 shows that cheer should not be felt and expressed at all times toward all people, and it specifically disapproves of “singing songs to a sad heart,” which according to Aristotle’s criteria is an excess of cheer, what might be called “levity.” Proverbs 15:13 and 25:20 construct a spectrum of cheer: they disapprove of deficiency (sorrow) and excess (levity) and praise that virtue that hits the mean (gladness).

Work Proverbs 10:4–5 addresses the action of work: “A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich. He who gathers in summer is a prudent son, but he who sleeps in harvest is a son who brings shame.”39 In these verses, laziness is blamed and diligence is praised, for “A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich.” The one who leaves his plough on the ground, lies in the shade when he

37

38 39

On other proposed interpretations of vinegar, soda, and its relation to the act of singing – namely, music easing misery, sadness neutralizing music’s effect, or ‫“( נתר‬soda”) meaning “wound” – see Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 786. Cf. the painful effects of deception by words in 25:18. Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 329. On the ambiguity of ‫( ראשׁ עשׂה כף־רמיה‬a slack hand causing poverty versus poverty causing laziness) see Keefer, Proverbs 1–9; Whybray, Proverbs, 158.

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Moral Virtues in Proverbs

should be laboring in the sun, and perhaps expects others to do the work required when he will not, that person will come to poverty. The one who takes up his plough, reposes only when necessary, and faces the sun during a day of work, he comes to riches. In short, laziness leads to poverty and diligence produces wealth.40 Verse five makes a similar contrast: “He who gathers in summer is a prudent son, but he who sleeps in harvest is a son who brings shame.” The one who harvests in the appropriate season is diligent and deemed a prudent son, while the one who sleeps during this time is lazy and consequently shames his family (10:1) and probably himself. As in 10:4–5, Proverbs consistently praises diligence and condemns laziness (6:6–11; 12:24, 27; 13:4, 11; 22:13; 24:30–34). Laziness reflects a deficiency in the action of work, which, even more than the son who puts his family to shame, is exemplified by the sluggard who does not work enough: “the sluggard does not plow in winter; he will ask during the harvest and have nothing” (20:4).41 The clear condemnation of laziness is not matched by a similar denunciation of its logical opposite, that is, excessive work: laboring too many hours in the day and not resting, like the modern notion of a workaholic, which, it seems, did not concern the authors and/or editors of Proverbs. Recall, however, that excess for Aristotle is not just excess in amount or quantity but excess in the manner, timing, or purpose of an action. Therefore, in other senses, excessive work does appear in Proverbs, and it errs particularly with respect to time and purpose. Proverbs 21:5 says, “The plans of the diligent [lead] surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes only to poverty.”42 In this case, the worker does not necessarily work too much (he probably works too little, given his haste), but rather works too quickly and probably without 40

41

42

Although diligence and prudence tend to result in the acquisition of wealth, as in 10:4, Proverbs knows well that wickedness and even foolish endeavors can make one wealthy, at least for a time (e.g., 10:1, “treasures of wickedness”; 1:10–19). The literature on wealth and poverty in Proverbs is abundant, and although there is possible tension between views of wealth in the book, a non-rigid version of the retribution principle, which Proverbs warrants, makes coherent what can be interpreted as contradictory in the text. The Ketiv (‫שאל‬ ׁ ‫ )י‬and Qere (‫שאל‬ ׁ ‫ )ו‬make little difference for the meaning of 20:4, since they both grammatically signal sequence, one using an imperfect and the other a waw consecutive. Regarding line B of 20:4, Fox (Proverbs 10–31, 664) explains that the sluggard “is stupid enough to come around asking where the crops were, as if they could grow without the ground being prepared.” There is a play on ‫ אך‬in this verse, the first occurrence being emphatic (“surely”) and the second being restrictive (“only”), though the second could also be understood emphatically.

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plans.43 He hastens to get rich. He rushes to fulfill a contract. He errs with respect to time. Where the sluggard works too slowly or never (12:27) and thereby deficiently, the hasty worker labors too quickly and thereby excessively. Since the diligent person works with patience and planning, the hurried worker most likely misses the mean by excess with respect to time. Other errors in work, not excessive strictly in terms of quantity, also appear in Proverbs, such as working for the wrong purpose. “Do not toil to acquire wealth; from your insight, cease” (23:4; see also 23:5).44 The addressee is presumed to be a hard worker (‫ )יגע‬but also someone who may work for the wrong reason, namely, working to “acquire wealth” and consequently missing the right purpose of work. The second colon places the blame upon a faulty faculty of insight, which should be stopped and, presumably, replaced by correct understanding, leading to work that aims for the right goal.45 The point is that working for the sake of wealth misses the mean because it fails to account for the variables of the “meanstate,” such as manner or amount or timing, and in this case, purpose. In the realm of work, diligence is a moral virtue, meaning that the diligent person works the right amount, at the right time, and in the right place. In Prov 10:5, the prudent son who “gathers in summer” works at the right time, and the shameful son, who sleeps during the harvest season, does not. Proverbs clearly casts the errors of work in a mold of excess and deficiency. It disapproves of sloth, when someone does not work enough or at the right time, and also condemns a variety of actions that depict excessive work, as the 43

44

45

According to Fox, “excessive hurrying and straining to get rich demonstrate greed” (Proverbs 10–31, 681). The second line of 23:4 (‫ )מבינתך חדל‬may read “because of your discernment, cease” (so Meinhold, Sprüche, 387) or “from your discernment, cease,” the latter option being preferable since ‫ חדל מן‬elsewhere consistently means “cease/refrain from” (e.g., Exod 23:5). The remaining difficulty lands on the meaning of ‫בינה‬, which normally denotes “understanding” or “intelligence.” Although its verbal form can refer to “observe carefully” (so Prov 23:1b) and would fit nicely with the optical remarks of 23:5–6, ‫בינה‬ itself nowhere reflects this sense. So rather than attributing a novel meaning to the noun based on the verb’s qal stem (so Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 723) and the admittedly compatible verses nearby, I understand ‫ בינה‬in this case as a reference to the sort of insight that views wealth as the purpose of work (for other instances of inadequate insight, see Prov 3:5; Job 39:26). It is from that sort of “insight” that one should cease and instead work with proper insight and thereby proper purpose (so Prov 14:24; 28:20). Proverbs 28:19 faults the pursuit of “worthless things” with the result of poverty: “Whoever works his land will have plenty of bread, but he who follows worthless pursuits will have plenty of poverty.” Here, the standard labor for an agrarian community – working one’s own land – is praised in contrast to unspecified but vain endeavors.

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Moral Virtues in Proverbs

hasty laborer errs in time, and others work for the wrong reasons. “Diligence” is Proverbs’ way of saying that someone works without these errors, laboring instead at the right time, to the right extent, and for the right reasons. The book does not portray every instance of this preferred mode of industry, but based upon what it does approve and disapprove of, the conclusion that diligence is a moral virtue in the Aristotelian sense is warranted. In sum, Proverbs portrays the action of work negatively in two primary ways: deficiency (sloth) and excess, the latter occurring in various forms, whether an error of time (haste), purpose (for wealth), or object (“empty pursuits”; Prov 28:19). With so many forms of vice, the question arises as to if and how they ought to be labelled. In Aristotle’s view, we can give each of these subjacent vices a distinct name, as, for example, when he distinguishes two excessive behaviors in social conduct: some people are overly friendly for no purpose (obsequious) while others act in such a way for their own advantage (flattery) (NE 4.6). Although they receive separate titles, both of the vices exhibit an excess, which is the same for the action of work in Proverbs. For lack of a better term and in order to capture the diversity of errors, I call its collective forms of excessive work “overwork.” The book praises work that occurs “at the right time, on the right occasion, towards the right people, for the right purpose and in the right manner” (NE 2.6.11) and calls this diligence, which reflects a mean-state between vices of deficiency and excess, and therefore constitutes a virtue. Reproving Proverbs is not reticent about parental discipline. According to a pair of sayings, “Do not withhold discipline from a child; if you strike him with a rod, he will not die. You, strike him with the rod, and you will save his soul from Sheol” (Prov 23:13–14). These proverbs are concerned with the action of reproof toward children (or “youth,” ‫)נער‬, implying that parents err in reproof if they refrain from it and succeed in reproof when they conduct it. Parents are assured that a swat with the rod will not kill the child but will instead save the child from death: “if you strike him with a rod, he will not die. You, strike him with the rod, and you will save his soul from Sheol.” Parents may have needed this instruction for many reasons, and one reason may have been the wish to coddle their children, fearing that too swift or too strong a strike with the rod will do more damage than harm.46 That 46

On coddling, see also Prov 22:6 and 29:21. The latter warns against “pampering” a servant from childhood and forecasts a bad end for those who do so, though textual difficulties (i.e. the interpretation of ‫ )מנון‬make the exact nature of that bad end unclear.

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suspension of discipline would be a deficiency of reproof; the parent who coddles his son or daughter does not discipline enough, and of this Proverbs disapproves. On the other hand, the comment at Prov 23:13b – “if you strike him with a rod, he will not die” – implies that excessive beatings will indeed kill a child.47 However, the reference to death in 23:13b (“he will not die”) may simply refer to the child’s salvation from Sheol (v. 14b), meaning that, with discipline, he will avoid destructive problems in life. It would then have no implication that he might die because of excessive parental discipline.48 Yet this interpretation still identifies the parent’s proclivity with a failure to discipline (i.e. coddling), as is consistent with the active choice to “withhold the rod” and the fact that discipline might rightly be a manifestation of love (13:24). Although such a failure may be portrayed as neglect (e.g., 29:15), the propensity to coddle seems justifiable and the possibility of Prov 23:13b intimating that excessive beatings can kill a child, likely. Discipline does ensure that the boy “will not die,” and yet a “grim humour” lingers within the proverb: “A young person will not die from instructional blows but from their absence, for (premature) death results from uncorrected folly.”49 Perhaps 23:13 plays on the fear, of child and parent alike, that too many blows will put a youngster to death. So though cloaked in wit, it attests to an excess in the action of reproof that differs from the discipline so praised elsewhere. Those obdurate in their physical reproof of children commit abuse, and in other contexts such excessive punishment is condemned: the king who lacks understanding, for instance, oppresses his people (28:16; so 22:16). So a parent who punishes a son by beating him to death errs by excess within the realm of reproof, reproving too much. The ideal is stayed on right discipline, which is conducted by the Lord who resembles a father that reproves “the son in whom he delights” (3:11–12). Proverbs, therefore, portrays the action of parental reproof in terms of praise and blame. It disapproves of coddling, hints at the similarly problematic excess of abuse, and indicates that “discipline” hits the mean.

47

48 49

The propensity to coddle is further underscored by the directive wording of 23:14 (‫)אתה בשׁבט תכנו ונפשׁו משׁאול תציל‬, as well as the petition to incline one’s heart to discipline and one’s ear to words of knowledge in 23:12. So Prov 19:18; Whybray, Proverbs, 335. Clifford, Proverbs, 212. The humor is even clearer in Ahiqar, 81, if the restoration of the final line is correct: “If I beat you, my son, you will not die; but if I leave you alone, [you will not live].”

68

Moral Virtues in Proverbs Regard from Others

With the emotion of cheer and the actions of work and reproof meeting Aristotle’s criteria for moral virtue, the trend continues with what Aristotle calls “receiving honor,” what in Proverbs is best described as receiving regard from others. Words like “honor” and “shame” or “favor” and “disgrace” all manifest some exchange of esteem between people, who regard one another in either admiration or reproach. Of course, the acquisition of honor is praised whilst shame is cast in a negative light: “Poverty and disgrace come to him who ignores instruction, but whoever heeds reproof is honored” (Prov 13:18). The passage represents a regular distinction between the foolish person who receives shame, disgrace, and dishonor (6:33; 18:3), and the wise person who is acquires honor, favor, and praise (3:35; 14:35; 28:23; 31:30–31). These alternatives constitute, on the one hand, a deficiency of regard from others. For the person who ignores instruction does not receive enough favorable regard from others, since it is to him that “poverty and disgrace come.” He is held in disgrace, and Proverbs portrays this person as deserving of it, for there is no suggestion that someone who ignores instruction should receive any more favor than he does. While we might say that he gets his rightful share of regard from other people, amounting to no more than “disgrace,” this share is a deficiency in terms of quantity. On the other hand, “whoever heeds reproof is honored” and receives the right amount of regard, what Waltke calls, “weight in the eyes of others.”50 This view implies that honor is an ever-exceeding good and that, when receiving it, more is always better. But this, in fact, is not the case. For in the world of Proverbs, regard can occur in excess, evident in statements like “honor is not fitting for a fool” (26:1; so 26:8; cf. 3:31), as if the honor received by a fool would constitute an excessive amount of regard, the receipt of overpraise.51 Such regard would be excessive with

50

51

Waltke, The Book of Proverbs: Chapters 1–15, NICOT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 568. Debate regarding the interpretation of Prov 26:1 stems from the attempt to identify its sociohistorical significance, that is, whether it targets “the elevation of incompetent men to high places in the governments of state and city” (C. H. Toy, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Proverbs, ICC [Edinburgh: T&T Clark 1904], 472) or settles the proper place of fools within society (Otto Plöger, Sprüche Salomos (Proverbia), BKAT 17 [Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1984], 309). About its general message, though, we can remain confident: “The proverb is saying that to give honour to a fool is to reverse the proper order of things – a catastrophe comparable to the disruption of the normal sequence of the seasons” (Whybray, Proverbs, 371).

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69

respect to its recipient, who takes too much, showing that Proverbs does not approve of high regard for all people. Different people deserve different amounts of regard, and the virtuous person, in Proverbs, receives the right amount. Deficient regard is deserved by the fool; excessive regard occurs when honor is shown to him; and right regard goes to the wise person, who is virtuously honored. In Proverbs, it seems that receiving honor is equivalent to deserving honor, so that the real problem with the fool, for instance, is not so much that he fails to receive the honor shown to him but that he deserves no honor in the first place. Therefore, in acquiring regard from others, Proverbs portrays deficiency (shame), excess (overpraise/misdirected praise), and the mean-state (honor).

Wealth The fifth and final of the clearest cases of moral virtue in Proverbs pertains to wealth. In NE 4.1, Aristotle describes “liberality” as the virtue of actions related to wealth, wealth meaning anything with monetary value (4.1.1). How morality relates to wealth is more complicated than the examples seen so far, since instead of a single perspective on an action, such as working, the topic of wealth includes two perspectives – giving wealth and getting wealth. Both actions culminate in the virtue of liberality (see 4.1.24), and both share one vice while subtly differing in another. The excess of giving money and the deficiency in getting is prodigality; the deficiency in giving is stinginess and excess of getting is greed (Table 3.4).52 While action in the realm of things with monetary value is two-sided for Aristotle, these actions nevertheless contain the standard model of one virtue and two vices, which is reflected in Proverbs with different language. The book praises generosity and right giving: “One gives, yet still grows; another withholds from what is right, and only comes to want” (11:24); “The people curse the one who holds grain, but a blessing is on the head of him who sells it” (11:26). These proverbs speak favorably about giving goods of monetary value, both praising the act of selling – “a blessing is on the head of him who sells [grain]” (11:26) – and

52

Using Aristotle’s distinct terms – stinginess and greed – preserves the nuanced perspectives that they give to vicious action, as “stinginess” often refers to failing to give money and “greed” often refers to getting, or desiring, too much. In a sense, however, the stingy person is greedy and the greedy person stingy.

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Table 3.4 The virtue of liberality Action

Virtue

Vice (deficiency)

Vice (excess)

Giving wealth Getting wealth

Liberality Liberality

Stinginess Prodigality

Prodigality Greed

commending those who give – “One gives, yet still grows” (11:24).53 Not all dispositions toward wealth, though, are applauded, and both of these proverbs contrast giving with blameworthy activities: “The people curse the one who holds grain”; “another withholds from what is right [to give], and only comes to want,” statements that disapprove of a single action: holding back wealth. To hold back wealth reflects a deficiency in giving, so that the one who “holds back grain” does not give enough, and if he gives at all, he gives too little. We might call him “stingy,” deficient in giving wealth, and quite unfavorable in comparison to the one who gives rightly (generous). Neither of the previous proverbs mentions an excess of giving, or what Aristotle would call profligacy. However, profligacy is inferred from a number of passages that warn against giving surety, especially for a stranger, to suggest that guaranteeing a loan on another’s behalf constitutes an unwise and therefore viciously excessive gift: “One who lacks sense shakes hands and puts up a pledge in the presence of his neighbor” (Prov 17:18).54 The disapproval of putting up a pledge implies that giving can be problematically exorbitant. There were several ways this could have gone down in ancient Israel, and the scenario envisioned here is 53

54

These proverbs can be read quite neutrally, as indicative statements that carry no imperative implications, stating what is the case rather than what ought to be (so Whybray, Proverbs, 186–187). However, the notions of blessing and cursing (11:26), especially, elsewhere, harbor evaluative status, such as when the Lord blesses the righteous and curses the wicked (3:33). These concepts too are frequently associated with characters of a moral quality (e.g., 10:6; 24:25) and the notions of good and evil in 11:23, 27 likely qualify the activities taking place in verses 24–26 (so Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 505–507), suggesting that the blessing received by the generous person in 11:26 identifies such action as right. Proverbs 11:24 does not specify giving objects of monetary value, and so it possibly refers to a broader conception of giving. However, there is no reason to exclude monetary goods from its scope. Proverbs 13:7 supports this interpretation and also condemns financial pretense. See also 11:15; 20:16; 22:26–27; 27:13; cf. 6:1–5. See Fox, Proverbs 1–9: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 18A (New York: Doubleday, 2000), 214–216.

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perhaps one of providing a pledge for a neighbor’s loan. The neighbor, keen to borrow but unable to deposit the necessary collateral, is sponsored by another, who offers her house or field or another valuable item (Neh 5:3) to guarantee the neighbor’s loan. Though apparently generous, the act is deemed overly so and instead insensible. This perspective completes the praise and blame of actions related to giving wealth in Proverbs, wherein the stingy person does not give enough, the generous person gives rightly, and the profligate person gives too much. Other proverbs address the action of getting money. “Whoever multiplies his wealth by interest and profit gathers it for the one who is generous to the poor” (Prov 28:8).55 The first colon condemns getting wealth in a certain manner, as whoever increases wealth “by interest and profit” (‫ )בנשׁך ובתרבית‬only collects for the person who is generous.56 The profiteer is contrasted with the generous person and so he possibly errs by collecting too much money, a simple excess in getting (i.e. greed). However, we are told that he gains his wealth “by interest and profit,” suggesting that he also errs with respect to means. The prospective magnate gains wealth in the wrong way, defying biblical laws that prohibited taking interest on a loan from other Israelites and especially from the poor (Lev 25:36; Deut 15:1–6; 23:20). His error of means and amount are inseparable, for Prov 28:8, as Fox rightly notes, “does not necessarily condemn all taking of interest, but only the excessive use of the practice, the ‘amassing’ or ‘increasing’ of wealth thereby.”57 So while 28:8 may exhibit the error of acquiring an excessive amount of money, it certainly points to an error in the method by which money is gained. Proverbs 1:19 and 15:27 both explicitly disapprove of “greed” as an excess of getting money. As mentioned at the outset of this chapter, Prov 1:10–19 displays a gang who acquires wealth through violence. They thirst for blood and promise their young, wayward companion a share in the spoils. The scene concludes with disapproval – “such are the ways of everyone who is greedy for [unjust] gain [‫( ”]בצע‬1:19a) – using the lexeme ‫ בצע‬to connote wealth that is gained by an unjust method, often violence.58 It elsewhere leads to trouble in the household and further condemnation: “Whoever is greedy for [unjust] gain [‫ ]בצע‬troubles his

55

56 58

The financial context of the proverb indicates that the one who “favors” the poor in 28:8b, favors the poor financially, exercising generosity. 57 The Qere omits the initial ‫ ב‬on ‫ובתרבית‬. Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 823. See, e.g., Prov 28:16; Judg 5:19; Ps 119:36; Jer 6:13.

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household, but whoever hates gifts will live” (15:27).59 That someone “hates gifts” and lives indicates that the person greedy for gain acquired wealth by a bribe, as Fox says, “Taking gifts – that is, bribes – is an instance of grasping ill-gotten gain.”60 Thus Prov 1:19 and 15:27 disapprove of gaining wealth by certain means, in one case violence and in another, bribery. In addition to basic greed and erring in the means of acquisition, a person can get wealth excessively with respect to timing. Proverbs 20:21 says, “An inheritance gained hastily in the beginning, in its end will not be blessed.”61 When a young Israelite boy vies for his portion of the family estate too early, he aims to acquire wealth in haste.62 He wants too much too soon and errs in timing, becoming greedy not strictly because of the amount he wants but because of the speed at which he wants it. Therefore, in getting wealth, humans err by excess with respect to amount (greed), means (interest), and timing (haste), and when giving money, they are faulted for deficiency, that is, for stinginess. Proverbs 28:8 requires one more look: “Whoever multiplies his wealth by interest and profit gathers it for him who is generous to the poor.” It not only targets mistaken means of gaining wealth but also the proper way of giving it. The person who is generous shows “favor” or “mercy” (‫ )חונן‬to the poor, and in this context shows financial favor, seeing that the “rich” and “poor” are explicitly mentioned by surrounding verses (28:6, 11).63 How much this person gives is unknown, whether she gives all her money or simply more than the greedy person, but whatever she gives seems right. As with Prov 11:24 and 11:26, and their concern with giving money, Prov 28:8 praises the generous person in the context of getting money, amassing praise for that person due to both getting and giving wealth. The clearest errors pertain to those who give too little – the deficiency named “stinginess” – and those who get too much – the excess named “greed,” though the error of profligacy (i.e. giving too much or 59

60 61

62 63

The ‫“( בית‬household”) here may refer to a physical house (e.g., Prov 7:19) but at least implies one’s family and with the suffix “his” most likely denotes it (3:33; 11:29; 17:13; cf. 27:27; 31:21). On bribes, see also 17:8. Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 603. To these means of gaining wealth, we could add lying (21:6). The ancient versions prefer Qere ‫“( מבהלת‬hastily”) to Ketiv ‫“( מבחלת‬gotten avariciously”) (BDB, 973). See also 13:11; 28:20, 22. Hence the ‫“( נחלה‬inheritance”; Prov 17:2; 19:14). For the “poor,” Prov 28:6 uses ‫ש‬ ׁ ‫ר‬, while 28:8 and 28:11 use ‫דל‬. Proverbs 28:8 is one of those proverbs that displays two types of virtue, given the contexts of wealth and mercy. Its specific concern for giving money places it in the wealth context, but see the action of “showing mercy” below.

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getting too little) also appears.64 It follows that the generous person hits the mean in giving and getting, and therefore establishes generosity as a virtue to show that Aristotle’s twofold understanding of “liberality” in giving and getting wealth matches many passages that address wealth in Proverbs.

the clarity of extremes In Proverbs the concepts of gladness, diligence, discipline, honor, and generosity meet Aristotle’s criteria for moral virtue. For each of these concepts, Proverbs explicitly condemns errors of both excess and deficiency, and praises a mean-state, and to that extent each can be called virtues in the Aristotelian sense. For the remainder of its actions and emotions, Proverbs still applauds that which is morally good but it now explicitly condemns only a single error, apparently omitting the second. So instead of praising courage and condemning both rashness and cowardice, for instance, it would praise courage and denounce only the coward, or only the rash person. Surely, then, with an absence of what would be a necessary second “vice,” these remaining actions and emotions do not reflect virtues and vices in the Aristotelian sense. Not so. The absence of certain vices in Proverbs would not surprise Aristotle, seeing that in his view many vices, especially those that are rare, lack a name: “The man that exceeds in fearlessness is not designated by any special name (and this is the case with many of the virtues and vices) . . . Men deficient in the enjoyment of pleasures scarcely occur, and hence this character also has not been assigned a name” (NE 2.7.2–3). Often, says Aristotle, a virtue and only one of its vices are common to human experience and therefore easier to determine, such as the virtue of courage and vice of cowardice. Consequently, the names of rare and unnamed vices, in this case the deficiency of fear (i.e. rashness), should be coined, for “Most of these qualities also are unnamed, but in these as in the other cases we must attempt to coin names for them ourselves, for the sake of clearness and so that our meaning may be easily followed” (2.7.11). The coining of rare virtues and vices does not necessarily come easily, and Aristotle admits that identifying them can be a challenge and himself bears proof of this (e.g., 4.5.1–2). Therefore, the

64

The sluggard and poor person might also reflect characters deficient in getting money, albeit one voluntarily and the other often not.

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lack of certain vices and the relative preponderance of others in Proverbs do not damage my argument about the book’s moral vision. Reconsider, for example, the action of reproving children. If Proverbs condemns coddling and praises corrective reproof, then the book does not necessarily need to mention “abuse” as a second vice in order to disapprove of the action; as excessive discipline, abuse may be an unstated but assumed, perhaps logically necessary, vice. Because Aristotle acknowledges this phenomenon, the absence of certain vices and the preponderance of others actually fortifies the connection between Proverbs’ moral instructions and Aristotelian moral virtue. Justifying this connection nevertheless requires evidence that Proverbs harbors the tacit vice. Beginning with the potential virtue – the praised action or emotion – it must first be shown that this “virtue” should be applied in limited situations. Does “right or wrong in [its] case depend on the circumstances” (2.6.18)? Or, would the “good” act receive praise at all times, in all locations, and toward all people? If reproving a child is absolutely good, then it cannot be a moral virtue in the Aristotelian sense; for someone could not, then, reprove too much and so exercise abuse or determine the mean-state and act accordingly. Swatting the child would always be right. However, if reproof does not apply at all times and in all situations, but only at the right times and in the right situations, then it might constitute a virtue. Second, if an action is appropriate at only certain times and consequently inappropriate at other times, then a corresponding vice must be inferred. For example, if Proverbs instructs parents to discipline a bad child and chastises those who fail to discipline (i.e. “coddle”), and yet it does not address a second problematic approach to reproof, then this second approach is implicit. Coddling in this case is deficient discipline whilst reproving the rotten child is the right amount of discipline, which together imply that discipline might occur in excess. If it can be done too little and it can be done well, then it must be possible to do it too much. In this case, that excess is thought of as abuse, which then creates an Aristotelian spectrum of two vices (deficiency and excess) and one virtue. The line of reasoning looks as follows: 1. If action or emotion X is praised in contrast to one vice; 2. And if action or emotion X is not praised in all times, manners or circumstances; 3. Then action or emotion X must have a corresponding second vice and may be a mean-state.

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In other words, if discipline is wrong in some case or situation, but otherwise praised in relation to one explicit vice and one implied vice, then it constitutes an Aristotelian mean-state. The tacit error that corresponds to the explicit, named vice is determined by inference. In Proverbs, these criteria hold for the actions or emotions of mercy, anger, dispute, fear, appetite, and self-regard.

Showing Mercy Whether violent or cruel or hostile or thirsty for blood, Proverbs deems unvirtuous those who fail to show mercy: “The soul of the wicked desires evil; his neighbor finds no mercy in his eyes.” The wicked man shows no mercy to his neighbor and by bearing the label of “evil” or “bad” (‫ )רע‬his lack of mercy is condemned: the “neighbor [of the wicked man] finds no mercy in [the wicked man’s] eyes.”65 The expression “finds no mercy” is based on the term ‫חנן‬, which in Proverbs primarily refers to showing favor to the poor (14:21, 31; 19:17; 28:8), implying financial generosity as an act of mercy.66 According to Waltke, it entails “any acts of kindness,” an appropriate conclusion to me in view of the broad application of Prov 21:10, where the wicked simply desire evil and refrain from showing mercy.67 In the same way, Prov 3:27 prohibits “withholding good”: “Do not withhold good from its owner,” another text condemnatory of those wanting in mercy. For the moral virtues, to say that a lack of mercy is “evil” is not to say enough. Proverbs 11:17 tells of the sort of mercy that deserves praise: “A kind man [‫ש חסד‬ ׁ ‫ ]אי‬benefits himself, but a cruel man [‫ ]אכזרי‬hurts himself.” The “kind” man is endorsed, “benefiting himself” and perhaps gleaning 65

66

67

Colon B can be translated as “his neighbor will not be forgiven in his eyes.” For Fox (Proverbs 10–31, 684), this muddles the connection to colon A, meaning that “the relationship between the wicked man’s appetite for evil and his refusal to forgive or absolve others is tenuous.” The conclusion seems immaterial and the emendation to “he will find no forgiveness in the eyes of others” unnecessary. Proverbs 21:7 and 21:13 do present the repercussions faced by one who acts mercilessly, but there is no reason to doubt the link between desiring evil and failing to show mercy. Aside from its aesthetic senses (Prov 22:11; 26:25), D. N. Freedman and J. R. Lundbom (“‫ ָחַנן‬ha¯nan,” TDOT 5:22–36) say that the verb “is used of favor shown in personal _ relationships; it can refer to ordinary acceptance or kindness or else favor of a special nature, such as pity, mercy, or generosity.” This coheres with the primary semantic division of ‫( חסד‬see the comments about Prov 28:8 above at “Wealth” and the discussion below). Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 177.

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the many rewards that come to those warm and goodhearted people who treat others with kindness, being antithetical to the “cruel” man who “hurts himself,” perhaps taking that abuse or abandonment that he so harshly gives out. The term for “cruel” corresponds elsewhere to actions of not showing mercy, so that in Prov 12:10 “the righteous one regards the life of his beast” and hence shows mercy, “but the mercy [‫ ]רחם‬of the wicked is cruel [‫]אכזרי‬.”68 Even when mustering whatever compassion he can bear, the wicked person treats his beast mercilessly. Regarding ‫חסד‬ (“kindness”), Proverbs largely assumes that its meaning is understood (e.g., 20:28), using the lexeme to at least characterize those who devise good and to contrast them with those who devise evil (14:22) or to antithetically parallel ideas of “cruelty” (11:17).69 The evidence so far indicates that showing mercy is praised and its deficiency blamed, but it remains to be seen if mercy can be shown in excess. One proverb suggests that it cannot: “Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his splendor to overlook an offense” (Prov 19:11).70 That the person with good sense passes over an offense and that such action is exhibited as “splendor” suggests that showing mercy has no limits, a maximum display of clemency that, if witnessed by any human being attuned to the more common acts of kindness and cruelty in life, would be called “leniency.” The lenient person may show mercy at all times to all people in all circumstances and in all ways, and Prov 19:11 leaves room for such an absolute exercise. However, other material in Proverbs would have us believe that certain people should not receive mercy. Wisdom, in Prov 1:20–33, does not extend endless compassion to those who spurn her: for afterward, “they will call me and I will not answer, they will seek me diligently and will not find me” (1:28).

68 69

70

Cf. Prov 13:2; 17:11; Jer 50:42; Isa 13:9. Despite H. J. Stoebe’s (“‫ חסד‬hesed kindness,” TLOT 2:449–464) speculations on Prov _ 19:22, he admits that in Proverbs “The difficulty lies in the fact that the gnomic statements reflect no realizable situation,” and he presents no objection to my understanding of ‫( חסד‬see III.6.a and III.1.b). Of the paired ‫ חסד ואמת‬attributed to humans, H.-J. Zobel (“‫ ֶחֶסד‬heseḏ,” TDOT 5:44–64, esp. 48, 50–51) correctly says that _ it “emphasizes the permanence, certainty, and lasting validity of the demonstration or promise of heseḏ” (48), but ‫ חסד‬still falls on a spectrum from generally showing kindness (Gen 24:49;_ 47:29) to the active exercise of mercy (Josh 2:14). The same holds true for its parallel to ‫( חנן‬Gen 19:19; Ps 109:12; cf. Gen 39:21; Esth 2:17). Of God showing mercy, see Ps 25:6; Isa 63:7. The alternative reading, achieved by pointing ‫ האריך‬as an infinitive rather than a perfect (“Good sense consists in . . .” or “It is a man’s good sense to be slow to anger”), does not affect my point (see Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 89 n. 22).

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Elsewhere, the Lord himself curses the wicked (3:33), and according to Prov 6:12–15 the worthless person who falls into ruin should not receive a dispensation of kindness, a second chance or any such mercy: “suddenly his calamity will come; in a moment he will be broken and without healing” (6:15). Leniency, which shows mercy regardless of circumstance, would show it in these situations and toward these people, and yet the statements imply that wisdom would do wrong if she answered the fools, and that God would err if he prevented sudden calamity from befalling the worthless man.71 In other words, within these conditions showing mercy would be wrong and would constitute an excess called “leniency,” altogether qualifying the “splendor” that is “overlooking an offense” (19:11). A continuum of showing mercy has started to form, with deficiency (cruelty) and excess (leniency) on either end. Although kindness lies on the excessive side of showing mercy, I would argue that it nevertheless stands within this continuum, hits the mean of showing mercy, and is, therefore, a moral virtue. Aristotle says that “in some cases the defect, in others the excess, is more opposed to the mean” (2.8.6). That is, the mean at times is closer to one extreme than the other, and so it is with kindness, which inclines toward leniency more than cruelty.72 This example provides an exception to Aristotle’s standard criteria but an exception that he recognizes and accommodates within his moral vision. The way that mercy is treated in Proverbs, then, further corroborates the coherence of these Greek and Israelite moral visions.

Anger Cruelty can enrage and is often itself driven by anger, an affection that Proverbs ensures its audience will know how to handle. “Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but he who has a hasty temper exalts folly” (Prov 14:29).73 Anger’s timing is at issue here and those slow to it are praised (“whoever is slow to anger [‫ ]ארך אפים‬has great understanding”) and those quick to anger are blamed (“he who has a hasty temper [‫ ]קצר־רוח‬exalts folly”). In Proverbs, associating 71 72 73

See also Prov 19:19; 21:13. For further discussion of mercy and kindness, see Chapter 6. The lexeme ‫ מרים‬means “exalt” or “to be high” but in 3:35 parallels “inherit” (‫)נחל‬, indicating that it also carries a sense of “get.” There is no need for the emendation ‫מרבה‬ (“increase”; so Whybray, Proverbs, 222).

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“understanding” and “folly” with these emotions expresses, respectively, approval and disapproval, evaluations that are fortified elsewhere with the praise of slow anger and the condemnation of a quick temper (14:17; 16:32; 19:11). The ‫ חמה‬man too is an angry one and also someone whom Proverbs keeps within its realm of vice. Best rendered the “wrathful” or “heated” man, the lexeme ‫ חמה‬often parallels “anger” (‫)אף‬,74 and although it is not necessarily portrayed as negative in certain cases, “wrath” is to be avoided (16:14) and the evidence indicates that, in the main, the quick-tempered or wrathful man errs by having an excessive amount of anger or an excessive timing of anger.75 He becomes angry too much or cross too quickly. Returning to what is praiseworthy, Prov 14:29 commends not a wholesale lack of anger but the slow rise of anger: “whoever is slow to anger” possesses understanding. Such a state might be called gentleness or righteous indignation, since the person slow to anger does become angry but does so at the right speed and, it seems, in a controlled way. Again, the morally upright status of this emotion is based on its link with “understanding,” an unquestionably positive ethical label in Proverbs. Further honing the notion of slow anger, Prov 16:32 suggests that the person slow to anger shares qualities with the person who “rules his spirit” (‫)משׁל ברוחו‬: “whoever is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than the one who takes a city.” The person in control of his ‫“( רוח‬spirit/passions”) and particularly his anger is praised, standing with command over any vexation, irritation, or rising annoyances that could take control.76 Outside of Proverbs the same language is used to describe God as “slow to anger,” which along with the evidence from Proverbs, including that fact that God abhors wickedness (Prov 15:9, 26) and curses the fool (3:33), indicates that “slow anger” feels anger at the right time, in the right way, and toward the right people.77 Such emotion is plausibly characterized as “gentleness.”

74

75

76

77

See Prov 15:1, 18; 21:14; 22:24; 27:4; 29:22. The connection of 15:18 to the Egyptian “silent” and “heated” man (e.g., in Amenemope) has been widely noted. As an exception, Prov 6:34 attributes ‫ חמה‬to the man who discovers that his wife is adulterous, suggesting not that he but that his wife’s paramour is in the wrong, and in this scenario permitting a level of wrath. The praise comes via the “better than” phraseology, and in this context, as Meinhold (Sprüche, 280) astutely observes, “as far as courage and power development are concerned, self-control is of higher importance than military success.” See Exod 34:6; Num 14:18; Neh 9:17; Ps 86:15; Nah 1:3.

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79

In addition to excessive anger and an ideal anger, Proverbs implies the emotion’s dearth: “Like a muddied spring or a polluted fountain is a righteous man who gives way before the wicked” (25:26). Arndt Meinhold has underscored that it is the righteous man’s fear that causes him to “give way [‫ ]מט‬before the wicked,” which agrees with the use of the verb ‫ מוט‬in similar contexts.78 However, this proverb provides little detail about how the righteous man “gives way” in an emotional sense, and the lexeme most clearly refers to a broader notion of moral tottering.79 Within such a generalization, a lack of anger or a “spiritlessness” is plausible. The character of the righteous man is likened to a “muddied spring” and “polluted fountain,” probably as a source of nourishment for the community (cf. 25:25), suggesting that he falters in many respects before the wicked, not only, as Meinhold suggests, in his fear but also in his anger. He might be afraid and lack courage; he might also feel no anger against the evil deeds of the wicked, acting as a hypothetical “spiritless” man who would feel no jealousy or rage against someone who commits adultery with his wife (Prov 6:32–35; cf. 27:4). That ought to burn him and bring anger slowly yet surely. For in Proverbs this emotion is not categorically sanctioned but given approval at the right times, in the right places, and toward the right people, and in its overall attention to anger, through praise and blame, the book indicates vices of excess (irascibility) and deficiency (spiritlessness), and the virtue of gentleness.

Dispute To the merciless man and enraged woman, Proverbs adds the company of one ready and willing to argue. Interpersonal dispute, conflict, or disagreement between persons, quarreling, and how it is handled, are all subject to the book’s moral evaluation, where peacemaking is praised and contentiousness condemned. “Deceit is in the heart of those who devise 78 79

Meinhold, Sprüche, 433. That Prov 25:26 may refer to the disaster that befalls a righteous person at the hands of the wicked, even with an appeal to Ps 55:23[22] (so Whybray, Proverbs, 369), does not seem as likely as the moral instability that might strike the righteous. A. Baumann (“‫מוט‬ mwt,” TDOT 8:156) locates Prov 25:26 among the uses of ‫ מוט‬that occur within the _ context of contrasting the righteous and the wicked, where the psalmist begs, for instance, that the wicked not rejoice over him and “boast against me when my foot slips” (Ps 38:17 [16]). The wicked do intend him disaster but, according to the psalm, it is the psalmist’s moral failings that cause him to stumble.

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evil, but those who counsel peace have joy” (Prov 12:20). This passage approves of peacemaking by associating it with joy and contrasting it with evil devices: “those who counsel peace have joy,” unlike “those who devise evil” and have deceit in their heart. Peace-planning does not take oneself as its object, as if we counsel ourselves into emotional tranquility, but focuses on others, as it is made between people and seen in moments when the Lord puts the enemies of those who please him at peace (16:7). Likewise, “devising evil” looks outward: “do not devise evil against your neighbor” (3:29a) or be like the one who devises evil and “sows discord at all times” (6:14). So there is an active process of peacemaking and of concocting social trouble. But praiseworthy too is the person who avoids dispute and steers clear of that squabble in which fools regularly engage: “It is an honor for a man to avoid strife, but every fool will quarrel” (Prov 20:3).80 These passages positively portray the one who refrains from conflict or makes peace within it and negatively portray the one who fosters dispute or contributes to it, that is, who disputes excessively. In the context of interpersonal dispute, Proverbs approves of peacemaking (15:18; 16:7) and disapproves of excessive disputation, often called “strife” or “quarreling.”81 Peacemaking does not entail a complete disengagement from dispute, as if virtue looked only like avoidance or hushed silence among combatants. For the person who is slow to anger is able to “quiet contention” (15:18), establishing peace and so engaging in an activity that possibly requires altercation, which Proverbs approves of.82 That engagement may also be at play among those who cast lots to end quarrels (18:18) or “drive out” a scoffer and his strife (22:10) or “turn away” the scoffer’s wrath that enflames a city (29:8).83 Perhaps Prov 25:26 and its righteous man who “gives way before the wicked” hint at a deficiency in his peacemaking ability. Confronted with a quarrel, one whose moral mettle 80

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83

The MT’s ‫שבת‬ ׁ may derive from either ‫שבת‬ ׁ (“cease”) or ‫שב‬ ׁ ‫“( י‬sit”). The ancient versions are indecisive on the issue, and the possibility here of “sit away from” along with the plausibility of the idea that it is more honorable to avoid strife than to start quarreling and then cease makes ‫שב‬ ׁ ‫ י‬favorable. See Prov 3:30; 6:19; 17:14; 26:21; cf. 26:20. Proverbs 15:1 also contains two lexemes for “anger” (Meinhold, Sprüche, 255), quelled in this case by a tender word: “a soft answer turns away wrath.” This is, perhaps, one way that someone might “quiet contention” and, overall, Proverbs leaves us to speculate about what amount of active disputation peacemaking requires (though see 25:26 above). Proverbs 26:17 notes the importance of minding one’s own business rather than getting involved in a “quarrel not one’s own.” Conversely, then, perhaps there are quarrels that can be called “one’s own” and deserve some level of involvement.

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gives way would disengage from any conflict, failing to establish peace or quiet contention, being not a peacemaker but spiritless. Hence peacemaking is not the absence of dispute but rather entering into dispute at the right time and in the right way. When deficient of this good, one slinks into passivity or spiritlessness. Proverbs, then, whether implicitly or explicitly, portrays the gamut of approaches toward the action of dispute: contention marks excess; passivity marks deficiency; and peacemakers hit the mean.

Fear In this analysis of virtues that appear with only one explicit vice, three have so far been discussed and only one of those three has been an emotion: anger. Another affection is fear and, as many ancient texts do, Proverbs warmly admires it in the form of courage. “The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion” (28:1). It is assumed here that the wicked feel fear to an excessive degree: they flee even when no one pursues them (27:12; cf. 12:25), a ridiculous proposition of Proverbial disapproval akin to the righteous “giving way” before the wicked in 25:26 (see “Anger” above). In 28:1, though, the righteous are “bold” (‫)בטח‬, that is, confident (Job 40:23) or secure (Prov 11:15; Job 11:18), as a lion, a contrast with that milksop who runs when unpursued. So the righteous feel intrepid. For lions, denoted by various lexemes, are likened to violent predators in Psalms (10:9; 17:12; 35:17; 57:4; 58:7[6]), wrathful kings and rulers in Proverbs (19:12; 20:2; 28:15), and the mightiest of beasts in Prov 30:30. “The lion is mighty among the beasts and does not turn back from any.”84 Prophetic texts portray the Lord as a lion and indicate that the right response is one of fear (Isa 31:4; Jer 49:19; Amos 3:8; Nah 2:10–13). In 2 Sam 17:10, Absalom’s most excellent soldier possesses the “heart of a lion,” though even he will melt before David and his army, making the lion of Prov 28:1 an ideal image for the emotion of fear and, I argue, the virtue of courage. In short, Proverbs praises courage and blames cowardice as the right and excessive levels of fear. There are times, though, when one ought to be afraid.

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The phrase ‫ לישׁ גבור בבהמה‬may refer to the lion as the “hero” (Plöger) or “mightiest” (Fox) of beasts but most naturally reads “mighty among” (cf. Ps 112:2; Gen 10:9).

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Proverbs 3:24–26 assures the proverbial son that with wisdom and thereby the Lord as his confidence, he will “not be afraid” and should “not be afraid of sudden terror”: If you lie down you will not be in dread and you will lie down and your sleep will be sweet. Do not fear sudden dread and the storm of the wicked when it comes. For the Lord will be your confidence and he will keep your foot from capture.

These statements do not simply praise courage, they praise courage that finds its security in wisdom and in the Lord, specifying the right type of fearlessness. For there are times to fear, and Proverbs recommends the feeling in certain cases toward certain people: amidst life’s many dangers, toils, and snares, fear the Lord, perhaps the king (Prov 24:21), and otherwise proceed with confidence. But there are those in Proverbs who fear too little, neither cowardly nor courageous, but fearless before the Lord. According to Prov 14:16, “the wise one fears and turns from evil, but the fool is furious and trusts.” Based on Proverbs 1–9, “fear” connotes fear of the Lord, and “trust” implies the fool’s trust in himself. So the enraged fool is “confident” (‫ )בטח‬in himself but not confident in the Lord.85 That lack of fear cannot receive the accolade of “courageous,” though, because it is fearless before the wrong person and perhaps derived from the wrong source. The fool might be as bold as a lion, but by not acquiring such boldness from the Lord and wisdom, his rashness is not praiseworthy. Right fear or “human fortitude,” so called by Daniel Treier in his remarks about courage in Proverbs, “ultimately reflects our fear of God above all else, our resting in the divine all-sufficiency.”86 Proverbs portrays courage like an Aristotelian moral virtue. Too fearful and you become a coward, too brave and you become rash, to hit the mean you need courage.

Appetite By probing the human emotions of Proverbs, we discover food and drink and must reckon with our appetite. “When you sit down to eat with a ruler, observe carefully what is before you, and put a knife to your throat if you are given to appetite” (Prov 23:1–2). When sat before a ruler, 85

For ‫ מתעבר‬as “furious” see Prov 20:2; 26:17.

86

Treier, Proverbs, 74.

The Clarity of Extremes

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a guest may wish to eat too much, perhaps reaching for more than a suitable portion and certainly risking the danger of being “given to one’s appetite.” To combat the temptation, one need not simply refrain from eating, or keep silent and leave plenty of food for others, but should “put a knife to your throat” and so stop with death what would otherwise lead to overindulgence. To put it mildly, the scenario commends controlled eating in the presence of royalty and implies that a guest might want to eat too much.87 Other proverbs clarify that self-control, not a knife to the throat, should be exercised in eating and drinking. “If you have found honey, eat only enough for you, lest you have your fill of it and vomit it” (25:16).88 While worst for those with a sweet tooth, honey poses a challenge for any given to an excessive appetite. Therefore, “eat only enough for you” and not more, a warning that resembles the remarks of Agur when he requests of God, “feed me with the food that is needful for me” (30:8c).89 Best labelled an emotion, self-control of the appetite toward food and drink is undoubtedly praised in Proverbs (see also 25:28). Proverbs also envisions those fully given to their appetites, as seen in the command to “Be not among heavy drinkers of wine or among gluttonous eaters of meat” (23:20). Of the several other condemnations of those with excessive appetites (23:21, 31–35; 25:16, 27), many warn against gluttony and drunkenness by displaying the negative consequences of such actions. Drunkards and gourmands come to poverty; gluttons vomit what they consume; and with too much wine one suffers a beating. The point, however, is that these appetite-induced actions of gluttony and drunkenness are criticized, and that they represent moral error in terms of an excessive appetite. Drunkards and gluttons err by heeding their appetites too much.

87

88

89

As attested in Egyptian literature, the passage also addresses envy, given the fact that an Egyptian host would apportion the food to guests based on the amount of favor he held towards each of them (see Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 720–722). In other words, by inspecting how much everyone else has been served one may be led to envy the host’s favor towards them (see 23:3). Yet it also implicates how the guest eats. For “the official may not be testing the young man, but he will take note of the glutton, detest him, and wreck his career” (Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 238; similarly Clifford, Proverbs, 209). Verse 17 extends the warning of Prov 25:16 to the social realm, suggesting that too much of a good thing, even friendship, can lead to problems. The term translated “needful” (‫ )חק‬refers to a prescribed portion or allotment (e.g., Prov 31:15; Job 23:12), so that Agur asks for his “ration.”

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Although not unquestionable, there is evidence to suggest that an unsatisfied appetite is also problematic: “People do not despise a thief if he steals to satisfy his appetite when he is hungry” (Prov 6:30). Hungry people may steal in order to feed themselves, recalling that classic moral dilemma of whether it is right or wrong for a mother to feed her starving child by stealing a loaf of bread if the law indeed says, “Thou shalt not steal.” Thieves too have an appetite and, if faint from hunger, may be pardoned for stealing food. But even if exonerated as the proverb instructs, the thief’s unsatisfied appetite remains problematic, and while Proverbs seems to know nothing of anorexia or those who refuse to eat for various reasons,90 it does consider hunger as a regular result of laziness and poor character: the sluggard is famished and the wicked belly wants (so 13:4, 25; 19:15). Capturing the moral instruction of Proverbs regarding appetites for food and drink, we can say that appetites in excess are disapproved of, and appetitive deficiency is hinted at as a problem, while the ability to hit the mean – eating the right amount, at the right time, in the right place, with the right people – is praised as self-control.

Self-Regard Before moving on to a discrete section about actions related to speech, one final emotion in Proverbs needs attention: “self-regard,” which refers to how someone views herself. Several of its features are discussed in Chapter 4 rather than here, such as the fact that Aristotle does not directly discuss “self-regard” but does mention other closely related ideas, and the question of what exactly it is that the people of Proverbs “regard” about themselves. For now, it suffices to say that pride and humility mark points on a continuum of how someone views oneself. “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom” (Prov 11:2).91 In this passage and throughout the book, Proverbs praises humility as the right type of regard for oneself and condemns those with pride.92 For it is haughty eyes, a lofty gaze, the presumptive place among nobles, and a 90

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92

Cf. Job 6:4–7; 30:3; 33:19–21; Pss 42:4[3]; 107:17–19; 146:7. The comments of Agur, who requests only “the food that is needful for me” in Prov 30:9, sets not nutritional but financial needs between two poles: “lest I be full and deny you . . . or lest I be poor and steal.” Agur’s remarks favor a belly satiated with wealth, in contrast to one too rich or too poor. Occurring only at Prov 11:2 in the OT, ‫“( צנוע‬humble”) refers to “modesty” in the DSS (e.g., 1QS 4:5; 5:4; so Plöger, Sprüche, 133; Clifford, Proverbs, 121). See Prov 6:17a; 13:10; 15:25; 21:4; 25:6–7; 29:23; 30:12–13, 32.

The Clarity of Extremes

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chest overfilled with one’s heart that belong to the person who views herself too highly. In a word, “pride” brings one disgrace whilst its counterpart, humility, bespeaks wisdom, which suggests that humble humans regard themselves to the right extent, and proud people regard themselves in excess. In contrast to humility being a person’s relation to herself, that is, a form of self-regard, John Dickson and Brian Rosner understand it as one’s relation to God.93 The humble person fears the Lord, heeds his instruction, and acts with a “‘pious submission to God’ in the quest for wisdom.”94 While this does capture the context of ‫“( ענוה‬humility” ESV, NRSV; so 15:33; 18:10–12; cf. 22:4), the strictly theological definition does not account for the repeated statements against being “wise in your own eyes,” which undoubtedly make the self a standard of sapiential maturity and indicate that the postures of humility and pride reflect amounts of self-regard (3:7; 26:5, 12). To be wise in your own eyes, whilst being proud before God, is also to regard yourself in excess. Likewise, humility relates rightly to God and also rightly regards the self. Erhard Gerstenberger correctly binds ‫ ענוה‬to its theological consequences but affirms it as “acknowledgement of one’s proper status, not hypocritical false modesty.”95 So while Proverbs is concerned with a theological posture of humility, it also understands humility as an attitude of self-regard. That humble self-regard, though, is surely deficient in its evaluation, not least because it seems to require that one underestimate truly impressive abilities. How do we reckon one wise, discerning, and able, the epitome of Proverbial adulthood, with the notion that she view herself as “lowly”? A “low spirit” (‫שפל רוח‬ ׁ ) (e.g., 29:23) is several times praised and is at times associated with the poor. However, one text suggests that it is not necessarily an ideal but an alternative better than pride: “It is better to be of a lowly spirit with the poor than to divide the spoil with the proud” (Prov 16:19).96 Here, it is not necessarily good to be of lowly

93

94 96

John Dickson and Brian Rosner, “Humility as a Social Virtue in the Hebrew Bible?,” VT 54 (2004): 459–479, esp. 465–466. 95 Dickson and Rosner, “Humility,” 465. E. Gerstenberger, “‫ָעָנה‬,” TDOT 11:241. The Ketiv reads “poor” and Qere “afflicted.” The logic of Prov 16:19 is challenging. Fox (Proverbs 10–31, 597, 618) understands it as having three rather than four components: “It is better (B) to be of a lowly spirit (A) with the poor than (A0 ) to divide the spoil with the proud.” Read this way, the reference to “with the proud” simply “enhances the value (at least of prestige) of the division of booty” (618–619). But the conceptual balance and especially the Hebrew syntax seem more suited to “It is better (A) to be of a lowly spirit

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spirit; it is only better than pride, and that, pride accompanied by riches. Notwithstanding, a lowly spirit appears to be a deficiency of self-regard and to suggest otherwise we might point only to Prov 29:24: “One who shares with a thief hates his own life; he hears the curse, but declares nothing.” In situations where something was stolen and yet no culprit identified, a “curse” (‫ )אלה‬was publicly announced, summoning anyone with information to testify under oath.97 If someone, perhaps not himself having participated in the robbery, had shared stolen goods with the thief, as envisioned in this proverb, he would find himself in a predicament. To testify would mean to implicate himself; to remain silent would mean to violate justice, leaving the primary perpetrator undiscovered. Thus the partner enters a plight that entails a debased view of the self, explaining why he “hates himself/his life” (‫שו‬ ׁ ‫שונא נפ‬ ׂ ; cf. 15:32). He may hate himself for colluding with a thief or because he subsequently fails to speak up on behalf of justice or, most simply, because the proverb presumes that justice will be done and that this man will face punishment. Whatever the case, he has endangered his life and fallen into a state of self-hatred. He regards himself lowly, not even valuing his own life, and yet amidst all his apparent lack of pride he does not demonstrate humility. His selfhatred is cast in a negative light and is therefore evidence of too little selfregard, a feeling best termed “diffidence.” Concentrating on two feelings of self-regard, Proverbs favors the right amount (humility), disfavors excess (pride), and, while less clear, also seems to spurn its shortage, making humility the virtue between states of pride and diffidence. Humility and pride are unpacked at length in Chapter 4 and they here conclude the second set of moral virtues in Proverbs, where I have argued that Proverbs displays and evaluates actions and emotions in a way that coheres with Aristotle’s criteria for moral virtue and vice. The first set (gladness, diligence, discipline, honor, generosity) appear explicitly with a virtue and two vices – one of deficiency and one of excess – while the

97

(B) with the poor than (B0 ) to divide the spoil (A0 ) with the proud” (‫ ;טוב שׁפל־רוח את־עניים מחלק שׁלל את־גאים‬note the phonetic similarities in the ‘A’ phrases of each colon: [sh], [l], [ch]). Part of the confusion stems from the two possible points of comparison, that of associations (“with the poor”; “with the proud”) or wealth (being “poor”; having “spoils”). Although not entirely clear, the proverb seems to presume that wealth is preferred to poverty (hence B0 > B), and yet it asserts that certain virtues override the importance of this possession and association. Humility, even with the lowly, is better than being rich and proud (Clifford [Proverbs, 160] takes this reading even further). Among others, see Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 845–846.

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second set (mercy, anger, dispute, fear, appetite, self-regard) occur with a virtue and single vice, which are joined by evidence that indicates, sometimes by inference, the existence of a second vice. The final moral virtues of Proverbs pertain to actions of speech and they reflect, if not depend upon, several virtues already examined.

speech Quality When Proverbs praises and blames acts of speech and does not do so in an absolute sense, it looks at speech from four perspectives: quality, purpose, quantity, and timing.98 Two of these perspectives are analogous to actions already mentioned. The quality of words, first, mirrors the activity of showing mercy, marked by the virtue of kindness and the vices of cruelty and leniency. Such dispositions are voiced in the instruction of Proverbs on speech’s quality: “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (15:1).99 Just as gentle behavior was praised and cruel actions condemned, so a soft or tender quality ought to accompany one’s words – “a soft answer turns away wrath” – whilst those barbed and bitter remarks cause only further problems: “a harsh word stirs up anger.” The approval of the first is seen in its association with peaceful consequences, as a soft answer “turns away wrath,” while the second receives disapproval in view of the fact that a harsh word “stirs up anger.” Other passages approve of speech that is pleasant, gracious, and

98

99

These categories are not meant to complicate the concept of human conversation but to clarify how Proverbs’ wealth of teaching on the subject relates to Aristotle’s criteria for moral virtues. Treated within portions of commentaries and monographs on Proverbs, the material on speech is most thoroughly examined by Walter Bühlmann, Vom Rechten Reden und Schweigen: Studien zu Proverbien 10–31 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1976). He focuses on using speech correctly and on the criteria for right speech, which do fit within my categories of quality (Bühlmann’s beautiful), purpose (healing power, power/powerlessness), amount (restraint, silence), timing (right time), and absolute (frank/reliable). The “harsh word” (‫ )דבר־עצב‬here, more woodenly a “word of pain,” probably refers to “a word which causes pain” (Whybray, Proverbs, 225; italics original), but in terms of the quality of that word itself, Ferdinand Hitzig (Die Sprüche Salomo’s [Zürich: Orell, Füssli und Comp., 1858], 146) entertained the plausible quality of it being “sharp” (sharf; spitz), as the tongue is said to be (12:18). The choice of lexemes in Prov 15:1, though, clearly underscores the element of pain, since language for “sharp” was evidently available (cf. 25:18; Ps 140:4[3]).

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kind and disapprove of words with a harmful quality,100 and although this evidence may suggest multiple qualities of speech, distinguished by words like “pleasant” and “gracious,” the diverse vocabulary refers to a common concept of speech, that which is kind, likened to the sweetness of a honeycomb, delectable morsels, and the sort of talk that brings friendship and favor. When joined to rotten, regurgitated words and sword thrusts – in other words, unkind language – the qualities of speech in Proverbs contrast between kind and cruel, which leaves the question of whether a third element, namely a potential vice, enters the picture. Kind speech is not fitting for all occasions. For “when [the hateful person] shows favor with his voice, believe him not, for there are seven abominations in his heart” (26:25).101 The kind and even suave words of a cruel man might convince many of true compassion, but when this “hateful” person “shows favor with his voice” know that in his heart are not sympathy and tender care but a sevenfold layer of abominations. Kind speech can err if it arises from the wrong person, and as unsuitably “kind” it reflects an excess of showing mercy through words. For the kind words of the hateful are insincere (so 27:5; cf. 26:23), conveying too much kindness with respect to who is speaking. Such “excessive” kindness might be called glib or insincere speech, while a deficiency of kind words – like using a “harsh word” that “stirs up anger” – is called cruel, both verbal actions that, again, correspond to the more general exercise of showing mercy, which in excess constitutes leniency and as far as deficiency is concerned, cruelty.

Purpose In the same way that showing mercy corresponds to the quality of speech, the action of discipline corresponds to the purpose of speech. Where discipline in Proverbs goes right as rebuke and goes wrong as coddling and abuse, speech can aim to reprove someone, coddle, or abuse her. Proverbs 28:23 says, “Whoever rebukes another man will find more favor than he who flatters with his tongue.”102 Despite his compliments and smooth praise, it is not the flatterer who acquires most favor when he 100 101

102

See Prov 16:21, 24; 22:11; 23:8; 25:15; 31:26; cf. 26:23. The surrounding verses (26:24, 26) show the components of this abomination to be hatred concealed by deceit, ultimately becoming evident to those it aimed to deceive. I follow Fox’s (Proverbs 10–31, 830) slight emendation of ‫“( אחרי‬after me”) to ‫אחר‬ (“another”), although the LXX’s ἀνθρώπου ὁδοὺς, suggesting that the MT exhibits

Speech

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speaks but rather the one who rebukes. Correction and a bit of well-intended finger-wagging brings more favor in the end, and in this way seems preferable to flattery (so 26:28; 27:5). Words that aim to flatter someone, while thought to garner loads of favor, actually attract less favor than reproof, and both types of talk can be packaged in terms of purpose. Speaking in order to coddle a friend renders less of her good graces than does the hard conversation, which aims to correct and will eventually “find more favor.” The flatterer, then, does not reprove enough and so represents a deficiency in speech that aims to reprove. The harmful speech noted above suggests evidence of excessive reproof – “a harsh word stirs up anger” (15:1b) – and in addition to holding a harmful quality, harsh words serve the purpose of reproving too much. They exceed their right purpose, to correct or discipline, and constitute verbal abuse. Speech, therefore, hits the mean when it reproves the right people on the right occasions, and misses the mark when, like flattery, it reproves too little and, like verbal abuse, reproves too much. Therefore, as with quality, so the purpose of speech in Proverbs reflects Aristotle’s understanding of moral virtue.

Quantity While the quality of speech corresponds to the action of showing mercy, and the purpose of speech to the action of discipline, two other types of speech do not so clearly align with virtues found elsewhere in Proverbs. The first is the amount of words: “When words are many, transgression does not cease, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent” (10:19). This proverb praises measured speech – “whoever restrains his lips is prudent” – and blames speech that is unrestrained: “when words are many, transgression is not lacking.” The locus of concern here is the amount of words.103 The person who restrains them is deemed prudent while the person who multiples them begets transgression, reflecting a praise for

103

metathesis and includes a yod instead of a waw (‫ אחרי‬rather than ‫)ארחו‬, is possible (so Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 397 n. 24). Alternatively, Prov 10:19 concerns the many words spoken after a transgression has been committed and so recommends that one keep quiet in the wake of wrongdoing (so Bühlmann, Vom Rechten Reden, 175–178). But this seems incongruous with the attention on good and bad speech as such, and given the chapter’s focus on scarcity and abundance it is these two categories, rather than the situation in which they arise, that concern the saying (for the contextual note, see Clifford, Proverbs, 115).

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restrained speech and condemnation for verbosity that appear throughout Proverbs.104 One reticent and restrained in speech, though, should not be confused with the person who speaks too little. For in addition to long-windedness, a lack of words also receives disapproval. In Prov 31:8, for instance, King Lemuel’s mother admonishes him: “Open your mouth for the mute, to the judgment of all who are fading away.”105 Her bid to “open your mouth for the mute” indicates that the mute person suffers from a deficiency in his amount of words (cf. 27:5; 29:24). “Dumb,” says Fox, “stands for all who lack an effective voice in obtaining justice: the widow, the orphan, the alien resident, and the poor, who are deprived of political and social power.”106 Even if the reference to muteness encompasses more than an inability to speak or to verbally defend oneself, we can conclude that certain people within the king’s rule are in need of his help, perhaps exhibiting a deficiency in the amount of words, which explains why Lemuel’s mother admonishes him to speak on their behalf, an admonition that more importantly recognizes the king’s muteness as a problem. This, of course, is not the only matter at stake here, as the mother’s instructions commend not only speaking on behalf of the weak but probably protecting them in the many ways that were within the king’s power. But Lemuel would, nonetheless, be at fault for failing to speak on their behalf.107 When viewing speech from the perspective of quantity, this passage completes the spectrum, which now shows that Proverbs disapproves of excess (unrestrained) and deficiency (mute) in the amount of words and yet praises that which hits the mean (measured).

Timing The second type of speech that does not align with other virtues in Proverbs is the timing of words. Consider Prov 15:28, “The heart of the 104

105

106 107

See Prov 13:3; 18:2; 29:11; cf. 17:28. See also those related to slander (11:13; 12:23; 20:19; 30:10). The obscurity of ‫“( בני חלוף‬sons of fading/passing away”) seems best illuminated by the “poor and afflicted” in 31:9, which further explains the “mute” in verse 8. Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 888. The mother’s instructions include a bit of humor, but not at the expense of sobriety. Clifford (Proverbs, 270) captures it well: “the verses urge the king to open his mouth not to drink but to speak for the voiceless and poor. The underlying subject of the poem is a king’s duty to effect justice for the poor. How easy it is for a king to squander the authority God has given him to protect the weak!”

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righteous ponders [‫ ]יהגה‬how to answer, but the mouth of the wicked pours out evils.” This saying appreciates speech that is thought over (so 25:15; 27:14; cf. 25:11), as it is the heart of the righteous, not the wicked, that “ponders how to answer.”108 The error that corresponds to these pondered words is not only speaking without thought but speaking too soon: “the mouth of the wicked pours out evils.” The wicked person does speak words of an evil quality, perhaps harsh or hateful or abrasive, but he also “pours out” (‫ )יביע‬these words, which conveys a rapid overspill in speech and thereby a time-related problem. Wicked words gush out like vomit, belching a verbal mess on all nearby and causing trouble in part because of their speed. “Do you see a man who is hasty in his words? There is more hope for a fool than for him” (Prov 29:20). This man has not pondered his words but rather spoken in haste (so 20:25; 27:14), being what I call “rash” and erring in excess with respect to time unlike the one who ponders his words and consequently deploys them at the right moment. The second error in speech’s timing appears in a notorious passage: “Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest you be like him yourself. Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes” (Prov 26:4–5). These juxtaposed sayings indicate not a contradiction but a moral instruction that bids the wise person to speak at the right time and in the right manner. The wise person is obligated to respond to fools, and yet she must respond not in the way that a fool would, that is, not “according to his folly,” or else she will become like the fool himself. She must answer him “according to his folly” in the sense of delivering an answer apropos to his stupidity, a proper response that keeps him from wrongly esteeming himself. It is answering a fool rightly, not a matter of answering a fool sometimes and not answering at other times, with which this advice is concerned.109 Combined, the weight of these proverbs lies

108

109

The phrase ‫ יהגה לענות‬woodenly means “ponders to answer,” that is, he ponders in order to answer in the appropriate way. Given the contrast with speech pouring out, the element of not only what is said but how someone speaks is shown to stem from one’s character. Interpreters have long debated the juxtaposition of 26:4 and 26:5, which, it should be said, are intimately bound by their Hebrew phonemes and syntax. The reading that views these sayings as a juxtaposition of negative and affirmative advice, intended to convey that sometimes answering a fool is right and other times wrong, overlooks both B cola, which clearly qualify the manner and purpose with which one might answer a fool (for a similar interpretation, see Meinhold, Sprüche, 438). Some consequently see the editor as using the pair “to demonstrate that no human wisdom can encompass the whole truth; in particular, that a short proverb can express only one aspect of it” (Whybray, Proverbs, 372). Whilst true of Proverbs, the moral complexity in this case

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upon wise people who fail to respond. Silence before a fool would reflect a deficiency in timing, for someone might never answer a fool when he should, being deficient in speed and guilty of “dither.” In summary, with respect to timing, words can err by excess (rash) or deficiency (dither), or they can hit the mean (thoughtful/timely). The gamut of teaching in Proverbs on speech reflects Aristotle’s criteria for moral virtue in the realm of quality, purpose, quantity, and timing, joining the other eleven actions and emotions in Proverbs as virtues.

conclusion I have argued that many of the concepts in Proverbs constitute moral virtues in the Aristotelian sense because they meet Aristotle’s criteria for virtue. In the NE, Aristotle defined moral virtues by placing actions and emotions on a spectrum of deficiency and excess, each of which constitutes a vice, while the disposition that causes a person to act or feel the right amount, in the right way, at the right time, and toward the right people constitutes a “meanstate,” that is, a virtue. To identify these virtues and vices Aristotle offered three criteria, the first of which includes praise (of the virtues) and blame (of the vices). The criterion coheres with Proverbs, as the book praises and blames actions and emotions that ultimately meet Aristotle’s other two criteria for virtues and vices: (2) vices reflect excess and deficiency in action and emotion, (3) of which the virtues “hit the mean.” Proverbs itself portrays six of these actions and emotions – gladness, diligence, discipline, honor, generosity, and all four types of speech – in terms of deficiency, excess, and mean-state. For six other cases (mercy, anger, dispute, fear, appetite, and self-regard), however, one vice is less clearly shown, or apparently absent, and yet in every case it is plausibly inferred from the evidence. These exceptions, rather than creating discord between Proverbs and Aristotle, attest to the harmony of their moral visions. Indeed, Aristotelian ethics, as orderly as it is, does not reflect a spotless moral system of full detail. It contains qualifications and exceptions to the rule that form inseparable parts of Aristotle’s moral philosophy. The book of Proverbs accommodates these qualifications, supporting rather than distorting the presence of moral virtues, and otherwise lays claim to the conclusion that many of the “virtues” in Proverbs are virtues in the Aristotelian sense. lands on how and to what ends one should answer a fool. Thus silence becomes a real enemy to the wise person who encounters a fool.

4 Honor, Shame, Humility, and Pride

Using criteria to determine the definition of moral virtue and the presence of these virtues in Proverbs is to take only one step toward establishing a moral tradition. To more fully express in what sense Proverbs is a work about virtue ethics requires an explanation, also, of why the book contains certain “virtues” and “vices” and how these compare to Aristotle’s list. Why, for instance, do both Aristotle and Proverbs show marked interest in honor? Why does Proverbs seem so focused on the topic of work and Aristotle have virtually nothing to say about it? With a compendium of biblical virtues and vices compiled in Chapter 3, this chapter and the next assess in depth the similarities and differences between the virtue lists of Proverbs and Aristotle, concentrating on those issues that one or both make prominent: first, honor/shame and humility/pride (Ch. 4), and then courage, work, speech, and friendship (Ch. 5).

the selection of moral virtues By “make prominent” I do not mean “refers to more often” or “occurs with more frequency.” For it will not do to treat Proverbs or the NE as an encyclopedia of moral concepts, where each occurrence carries equal weight and where significance is thereby measured by a simple count of frequency. Ten references to cheerfulness and five to courage does not necessarily mean that Proverbs is more concerned with cheer. If this were the case then pride of place would clearly belong to work and speech, since these respectively make up over 10 and 18 percent of the verses relevant to moral virtue. That said, frequency is valuable for measuring 93

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the importance of a virtue in Proverbs, and it would be daft to overlook the high proportion of material on work and speech. But frequency is only one of many measures that must be accounted for when indexing moral virtues. Prominence is also determined by concentration, as sayings about work, for instance, cluster at the outset of Proverbs 10 (10:1–5) and within chapters 24, 26, and 27.1 Compare this with the material on dispute, which may occur in juxtaposed proverbs (e.g., 18:18–19) but is mostly speckled throughout chapters 12–29 without forming any more than single or paired sayings.2 Location too plays a role, and here again work seems significant. Its cluster of sayings in 10:1–5 sits at the outset of the proverb collections, as Proverbs 9 concludes the poetry and lecture of chapters 1–9, and 10:1–5 inaugurates the world of maxims to follow.3 Work, then, appears at a turning point in the book. A final way to detect prominence may be by situating a text within its intellectual and literary tradition. If courage were given substantial attention in Egyptian literature, for instance, being registered by its frequency, concentration, and location in instructional texts, then that might elevate its importance in Proverbs. The same could be said for moral concepts of the OT that, when prominent elsewhere and then apparent in Proverbs, promote their status within the book. But this measure, based in tradition, is untenable because its very standard of prominence may work in reverse. A concept foreign to or rarely voiced by Egyptian literature, showing mercy for example, may appear in Proverbs with no especially high frequency, no dense moments of concentration, and no notable arrangement in its location, so that taken on frequency, concentration, and location within Proverbs alone, mercifulness scores quite average in terms of its significance. But once compared to the virtue’s near negligence in Egyptian instruction, its rather average prominence in Proverbs becomes far more significant than originally thought. Mercy can then be seen to have a radically distinct treatment in Proverbs, acquiring quite a

1 2

3

Proverbs 24:27, 30–34; 26:13–15; 27:23–27. Proverbs 12:20; 13:10; 16:7, 28; 17:1, 14, 19; 18:18–19; 19:13; 20:3; 21:9–10, 19; 22:10; 25:24; 26:17, 21; 27:15–17; 29:8. The opaqueness and transparency of virtues might also function as criteria for their prominence. Self-regard, for instance, is a theme that plausibly connects all of Proverbs 30 and yet neither “pride” nor “humility” are named. These concepts are instead displayed – the strutting rooster; the woman who acknowledges none of her wrongdoing – and when compared to proverbs that mention “humility” or “pride” and therefore make self-regard unquestionably transparent, self-regard in Proverbs 30 is relatively opaque.

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prominent place in its moral ranking. Therefore, in what follows, tradition is used to explain virtues – how they differ in one list and another, and why they are or are not prominent – rather than to indicate that a virtue has a certain degree of importance. It uncovers how and why a virtue is treated as it is, rather than deeming it (in)significant within Proverbs or the NE. To employ tradition in this way and at this moment in the project becomes only more complicated when we realize that one of several contexts could be chosen, not least the OT and other ancient Near Eastern literature. Comparing Aristotle and Proverbs based on the frequency, concentration, and location of their moral virtues remains consistent and simple and has its own advantages, such as the relatively unprecedented nature of this comparison in scholarship. This all comes back around to the reason for choosing honor/shame, humility, courage, work, speech, and friendship as topics worthy of their own chapters: because they are “made prominent” by Proverbs and/or the NE. Honor occurs with a high frequency in the NE and is recognized as especially valuable for virtue. It will dovetail with the importance that Proverbs gives to humility, not least because of the virtue’s location. Courage is treated first in the NE and yet barely arises in Proverbs, a disparity that makes comparison even more intriguing. Disparate too are work and speech, this time, however, because they are prominent in Proverbs and not in the NE, rising, due to frequency, concentration, and location, to the top of the Proverbial heap.

an initial comparison of virtues In the effort to examine apparent and actual differences in these virtues and discuss the historical, social, and doctrinal factors that underlie them, it should be noted that one broad commonality pertains to the concept of virtue itself. Aristotle claims that virtues correspond to right function: virtue “not only renders the thing itself good, but it also causes it to perform its function well” (NE 2.6.2). The virtuous horse, for instance, “is a good horse, and also good at galloping, at carrying its rider, and at facing the enemy” (2.6.2–3). This alignment of virtue with functionality also appears in Proverbs, wherein the excellent wife of 31:10–31 functions well as a wife and mother due to the virtues that she possesses: “she rises while it is still night and provides food for her house and portions for her maidens . . . she watches the ways of her house and does not eat the bread of idleness” (31:15, 27; cf. 12:4). This likewise applies to children

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who receive discipline (15:20; 28:7), parents who employ it (13:24; 23:13), kings who rule by wisdom (8:15–16; 29:14; 31:1–9), God who is praised for functioning well qua creator (3:19–20), and humans who function rightly as human by exercising wisdom and the fear of the Lord (8:34–36; 9:11; 24:3–4, 14). In Proverbs too, then, virtue “not only renders the thing itself good, but it also causes it to perform its function well.” Explaining to the greatest extent possible why Proverbs and Aristotle share these features would require an extensive comparison of virtue lists, including lists from the modern world, representative of at least the West, Near East, and Far East, whilst also pushing beyond those geographical generalizations. To conduct historically sensitive interpretation limits analysis, preventing an examination of virtue traditions that is comprehensive in its geography and chronology, and yet this sensitivity also enriches analysis by exposing the nuances of particular ethical visions, so long as we remain within the original worlds of Proverbs and Aristotle. To that end, the virtues of Proverbs and their corresponding actions or emotions appear in Table 4.1 alongside Aristotle’s list of virtues, and both are arranged in a way that places the more akin virtues closer together. Those in italics indicate the virtues of Proverbs and Aristotle that correspond closest to each other, while those juxtaposed but not italicized correspond more approximately. Before delving into the details of a select set of virtues, a few broad comparisons ought to be noted. To state several obvious similarities, as already foreshadowed, Aristotle and Proverbs show great concern with honor, understood as the action of receiving regard from others. They also make a point of how humans feel about themselves, what I have called “self-regard,” and approve of it in terms of humility (Proverbs) or proper ambition (Aristotle). As regard-related virtues, both regard of self and regard from others are similar in form, and yet they differ substantially in nature, as is discussed in what follows. Proverbs and Aristotle also depict “generosity” as the virtue of giving and getting wealth, and praise gentleness and courage as virtues of anger and fear. Virtuous speech too is entertained by both texts, and yet with its great variety in Proverbs and the NE this topic will require prolonged explanation. Obvious differences include the work, discipline, peacemaking, and gladness that Proverbs features and the NE shows little interest in. The discussion that follows takes into consideration those virtues selected for comparison and examines them with regard to their respective sociohistorical contexts and conceptual backgrounds. These provide

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Table 4.1 Comparison of proverbial and Aristotelian virtues Action (Prov)

Proverbial Virtue

Work Discipline Regard from others Giving wealth and getting wealth Showing mercy Dispute Appetite

Diligence Reproving Honor Generosity Kindness Peacemaking Self-control

Aristotelian Virtue

Greatness of Spirit Magnificence and liberality Friendliness Temperance

Emotion Cheer Anger Fear Self-regard

Gladness Slow to anger Courage Humility

Gentleness Courage Pride/proper ambition Righteous indignation

Speech Quality Purpose Amount Timing

Kind/tender Rebuke Measured Thoughtful/ timely Wittiness Truthfulness

explanatory contexts that do not reveal what concepts are and are not virtues in Proverbs – that was achieved in the previous chapter. They rather reveal in what ways Proverbs is a moral tradition, which is further developed through a comparison with the virtues of the NE, also contextually interpreted. The first moral concept to consider in depth is one that resonated throughout the ancient world: honor.

honor and shame Honor and Shame in the NE When Aristotle talks about honor in the context of moral virtue, he talks about “greatness of soul” (ἡ μεγαλοψυχία; NE 4.3). The “great-souled” person claims much honor and deserves much honor, reflecting the right disposition toward his own praise and disgrace: “for honor is clearly the greatest of external goods. Therefore, the great-souled man is one who

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has the right disposition in relation to honors and disgraces” (4.3.10). The vicious corollaries to the great-souled person are small-souled people who think themselves unworthy of noble pursuits and good things (4.3.35), and vain people who act as if they deserve more honor than they do. A short, additional section follows the 142 lines dedicated to greatness of soul to integrate the pursuit of “lesser honors,” which differ from great honors only in caliber (4.4). Given the amount of space dedicated to it and the fact that honor marks “the greatest of external goods,” greatness of soul, for Aristotle, is unsurprisingly the “crowning ornament of the virtues,” which “enhances their greatness and cannot exist without them” (4.3.16), indicating the essential place of honor when discussing Aristotle’s moral philosophy. The importance of honor in the NE and of one’s disposition toward it prompts the question that will be entertained throughout this chapter: Why would Aristotle be so concerned with the topic? Earlier in the NE, he states that some regard honor as the greatest good – something he does not condemn so much as supersedes with the greater goods of virtue and contemplation (1.5.4–6) – and it is in part that elevated place of honor within Athenian society, thought by many to constitute the greatest good, which explains why it is addressed in the NE. But more can be said, namely, that honor receives so much attention in the NE because of Aristotle’s competitive social context. Honor is the “prize” of virtue and the “tribute” paid to good; it is the public recognition of a person based on one’s character and actions (4.3.15). The language of “prize” and “tribute” in Aristotle’s definition of honor echoes the context of competition from which honor arose, where people vied to receive public praise for all variety of achievements. In addition to acquiring honor through public appearance, such as dress and manner (4.3.36), honor arose from deeds done in battle and in athletic competitions (4.3.15, 27), contexts of contest captured by the term ἀγών. In classical literature, the ἀγών can stand for the arena of competition itself (Thuc. 5.50.4), but it often denotes a “struggle” or “contest” that takes place within a variety of contexts, like a debate (Rhet. 3.12), legal proceedings (Pl. Apol. 24c), or athletics (Rhet. 1.2). Aristotle gives credence to many of these and likens a lawsuit to athletic and poetic competitions in his Rhetoric (1.11.14–16), using language that recurs in his discussion of μεγαλοψυχία (“greatness of soul”). As many scholars have shown, the Athenians had expanded the arena of ἀγών from the battlefield – the primary context of competition for Homer – to social and intellectual locations like sports, festivals, law courts, and theater

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performance, where, for example, poets would not only entertain but compete before their spectators.4 Lifted from its Homeric origin and settled within a new and expanded territory, this “competition” has particular mechanics, as described by Kenneth Dover: “When someone is honoured, the honour is necessarily withheld from others who wanted it just as badly; no one can win unless someone else loses, and an honour shared with everybody is a doubtful honour.”5 That notion of competition characterized Athens as an agonistic society and ordained honor as its social currency.6 Since honor must be understood within an agonistic context, and therefore understood as public recognition and worth, a particular example will help elucidate its significance for life in Athens. As mentioned, the law court marked one arena characterized by ἀγών. It was comprised of citizens who served as jurors and it lacked professionally trained officials, including a prosecutor.7 When a case came to trial, both accuser and accused would summon witnesses, often their family and friends, who would attest to the “facts” with inevitably rival testimonies. Such a process meant two things. First, when confronted with rival witnesses the judiciary heavily accounted for the character of the persons under trial. Whom did the judiciary deem trustworthy or worthy of honor? With such honor at stake, the accuser and accused endeavored to bolster their own honor and defame the other person, thereby persuading the jury’s verdict. Trials were settled not only by means of evidence but by the (dis)honor of those involved. Second, the role of honor in an agonistic law court influenced the testimony of witnesses. If someone on trial was honored in the legal process, so were his friends and family; if someone on trial was dishonored or shamed, so was his community. So to 4

5

6

7

For a similar description of honor in the Homeric context, see A. W. H. Adkins, Moral Values and Political Behaviour in Ancient Greece: From Homer to the End of the Fifth Century, Ancient Culture and Society (London: Chatto & Windus, 1972), 10–21; cf. the qualifying critiques of Roger Crisp, “Homeric Ethics,” in The Oxford Handbook of the History of Ethics, ed. R. Crisp (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), esp. 7–8. K. J. Dover, Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1974), 231. For primary evidence regarding honor and shame among the populace, see 226–242. Peter Liddel (Civic Obligation and Individual Liberty in Ancient Athens [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007], 165–167) shows that honorary decrees motivated citizens to competitively emulate the honorand. This characterization of the legal situation depends largely on David Cohen, Law, Violence, and Community in Classical Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 61–142. Cf. Adriaan Lanni, Law and Justice in the Courts of Classical Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 31–40; for honor, see 29–31.

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defend the honor of your friend meant to defend your own honor, a motivation that might color the “facts” of the case. David Cohen summarizes the situation: “At Athens the trial was conceptualized not as a forum for judging competing versions of a transaction completed in the past, but rather as an agon ¯ between two persons, where the outcome was determined by all the social resources (status, friends, allies, wealth, symbolic capital, etc.) which each could bring to bear.”8 Since honor could dictate a legal sentence and within Athens was equivalent to a citizen’s social standing, it is no surprise then that many “refined” and “action-oriented” men would think of honor as the greatest good in their society (NE 1.5.4–6). I would, therefore, submit this agonistic context as an explanation for why Aristotle at length addresses dispositions toward honor, and for why his “great-souled” man inclines toward the excessive side of virtue: “in regard to the greatness of his claim the great-souled man is an extreme, by reason of its rightness he stands at the mean point, for he claims what he deserves” (4.3.8).9 Honor dominated Athenian society and therefore prevailed in Aristotle’s moral thinking.

Honor and Shame in Proverbs: Wisdom, Folly, and Social Roles The most notable feature of honor and shame in Proverbs is not their social context but rather their affiliation with wisdom and folly. Honor is consistently associated with wisdom and its related concepts, whilst shame is the regular associate of all things foolish:10 “A man is praised [‫ ]יהלל‬according to his good sense, but one of twisted mind is despised [‫( ”]יהיה לבוז‬12:8); “Poverty and disgrace [‫ – ]קלון‬the one who ignores

8

9

10

Cohen, Law, 122. Aristotle recognizes the role of “unwritten” laws, namely those dealing with character, in Rhet. 1.13.13–19. Aristotle also attends to the great-souled man in order to revise Plato’s conception of this figure. Eckart Schütrumpf (“Magnanimity, Μεγαλοψυχία and the System of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics,” Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 71 [1989]: 10–22) argues that Aristotle replaces Plato’s love for philosophy with love for honor because ethical qualities cannot be deduced solely from the search for truth. While I agree that Aristotle is recalling Plato’s great-souled man, I am not sure that Aristotle’s man is best characterized as one who loves honor. Proverbs 3:35; 4:8; 10:7; 11:27; 12:8; 13:5, 15, 18; 14:9; 18:3; 20:3; 26:1, 8. Both 18:13 and 28:23 attribute honor and shame with respect to actions of speech, though suiting the sense of the proverbs just listed.

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instruction; but the one who heeds reproof is honored [‫( ”]יכבד‬13:18).11 In these proverbs, honor and shame relate to wisdom and folly in a causal sense. A man’s good sense garners him proportional praise, and one with a twisted mind is consequently despised by others (12:8). The same can be said of 13:18, where “the one who heeds reproof is honored,” suggesting that the acceptance of correction leads to honor and that the concepts in the first line (“poverty and disgrace – the one who ignores instruction”), which are simply juxtaposed in Hebrew, also relate as cause and effect: ignoring instruction begets poverty and disgrace, for as heeding reproof precipitates honor so “poverty and disgrace [comes to] the one who ignores instruction.”12 Other proverbs state that honor is not fitting for a fool (26:1, 8) and clarify that Proverbs contains no contradictions regarding the recipients of honor and shame, as if folly could beget honor and in another case beget shame. Folly always merits disgrace; wisdom always merits honor.13 Although honor and shame take wisdom and folly as their preferred companions in Proverbs, the concepts are also set within the context of social roles, primarily those of the family:14 The one who commits adultery with a woman lacks sense, destroying his soul – he himself will do it;15 A wound and dishonor [‫ ]קלון‬he will find and his disgrace [‫ ]חרפתו‬will not be wiped out. (6:32–33) The one who keeps the law is a son who understands, but a companion of gluttons humiliates [‫ ]יכלים‬his father. (28:7)

11

12

13 14

15

Regarding 12:8’s “according to,” the construction ‫ ְלִפי‬refers woodenly to “with respect to the mouth,” meaning “in proportion to” (BDB, 805), like Akkadian ana pı¯ . As with the several cases of what Fox calls “blunt juxtaposition” (Proverbs 10–31, 561), poverty and disgrace cannot actually refer to someone who ignores instruction, and the equation rather means that the former implies the latter or that the latter is the cause of the former. So in this case ignoring instruction brings about, and in that sense is, poverty and disgrace. See also Prov 14:30 and 15:15b. On the fool’s relation to honor and self-regard, see the discussion in Chapter 3. See the contexts of family (Prov 5:9; 6:33; 10:5; 12:4; 17:2, 6; 18:22; 19:26; 20:29; 28:7; 29:15; 31:23, 28–31), kingship (14:28; 16:13–15; 19:12; 20:2), and servanthood (14:35; 17:2; 27:18). See also the courtroom (25:7–10). The difficulty in this line is identifying what the feminine suffix refers to – “he himself will do it” – which may point to the act of adultery or to the man’s destruction. The ambiguity, or perhaps the neutrality, of the grammar is sometimes noticed (e.g., Plöger, Sprüche, 71), which is not surprising given that adultery and self-destruction here go hand in hand and so may imply that this whole situation is the adulterer’s fault. In either case the interpretation has little significance for my concerns.

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In these sayings, shame ensues from breaking the standards of a social role. In the first (Prov 6:32–33), an adulterer receives dishonor and disgrace because he has had sex outside of marriage. He has broken the Pentateuchal law (Lev 20:10; Exod 20:14), which set moral boundaries in terms of social roles, so that sex with a woman other than one’s wife is wrong qua married man, as the Proverbs passage depicts. Located within a kinship group, that man deserves dishonor: “The one who commits adultery with a woman lacks sense . . . A wound and dishonor he will find” (vv. 32a, 33a). The humiliation in Prov 28:7 likewise depends on social roles. For associating with gluttons is one thing but the saying’s rub comes no less from the shame that a father receives because of his son’s actions. Befriending gluttons causes the father’s humiliation. This example represents the remaining proverbs wherein honor or shame is caused by one family member and subsequently bestowed upon another (so 10:5; 12:4; 17:6; 19:26; 29:15).16 In two cases, a family member might act in a way that brings shame upon himself (6:33; 10:5), but not to the exclusion of his relatives (10:1; cf. 6:30–31), all of which goes to show that honor and shame are attached to social roles that are defined within a kinship context. In addition to the family, the social roles of kingship and servanthood provide contexts within which honor and shame are recognized. Proverbs 14:28 says, “In a multitude of people is the glory [‫ ]הדרה‬of a king, but without people a prince is ruined.” The king’s honor resides in the size of his human kingdom, and although it is not specified whether the people themselves endow the king with such honor or if the people function as an attribute of honorable kings,17 the saying does contrast honor with ruin, due to a condition (i.e. having subjects) that depends upon the role of kingship. The remaining proverbs that refer to both king and honor mention the “favor” and “wrath” that he dispenses to people, portrayed most elegantly in Prov 16:15, which likens the king’s favor to clouds of spring rain. “In the light of the king’s face is life, and his favor is like a

16

17

Interestingly, like 6:32–33, Prov 28:7 also finds a plausible background in Pentateuchal legislation. For in Deut 21:18–20 the son who disobeys his parents’ voice is called a “glutton” and “drunkard,” exhibiting the bad behavior of both colons in 28:7 – failing to heed instruction/law (unlike the understanding son, who keeps the law) and being a glutton (so Clifford, Proverbs, 244). The statement may imply both ideas, but given the use of ‫“( מחתה‬ruin”), which “consistently means self-inflicted demise” (Plöger, Sprüche, 175; so 13:3; 18:7; cf. 10:14, 29), it is likely that the king’s own agency in acquiring honor is in view here.

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cloud of rain.”18 This use of “favor” possibly connotes the king bestowing honor upon another and at least shows him favorably recognizing an honorable person (so 14:35).19 As honor and shame appear in proverbs that mention the king, so they also arise in association with servants. According to Prov 27:18, “The one who tends a fig tree will eat its fruit, and the one who guards his master will be honored.” The person who “guards” the master in this proverb functions in some sort of servant role, a role most likely left vague deliberately in order to accommodate the many pertinent roles, such as a warrior or household servant.20 The servant in this case receives honor because he deserves it with respect to his role, namely, as a servant to his master appropriately fulfilling his function by standing guard. In a similar way, a son shames his parents not by failing to take care of them, as a servant would, but by being lazy during harvest time (10:5) and failing to care for the land that he has or will inherit (17:2). He is the son who “brings shame” and “acts shamefully.” The servant and son earn regard based upon their roles in society, receiving honor when they fulfill their responsibilities and dishonor when they fail. In order to function in such appropriate ways, both the son and servant, as well as the wife and king, use wisdom.21 For it is the “wise” and “understanding” son who works hard and does not shame his parents (10:1, 5), and the adulterer who begets dishonor that himself “lacks sense” (6:32–33), two of several examples that embed social roles with honor and shame and add to the consistent and explicit correlation of wisdom-honor and folly-shame. Wisdom begets honor in general and when exercised by those within certain social roles enables an honor particular to those roles.

18

19

20

21

The primary phonetic link in 16:15, though, is not with “favor” and “rain” but between “king” (‫ )מלך‬and “rain” (‫ש‬ ׁ ‫)מלקו‬. Proverbs 14:35 says that “A servant who deals prudently has the king’s favor, but his wrath will be on one who acts shamefully.” The shameful conduct here may imply incompetency (so Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 513–514, 587) and it clearly connects the king’s wrath with shame and thereby his favor with honor. Meinhold (Sprüche, 459) too picks up on this lack of specification, mentioning the “messenger” as one of the many named roles. The verb ‫שמר‬ ׁ , for him, though, clearly takes a sense of “serve” more than protect, as evident in Hos 4:10–11. Proverbs 27:18 poses the only possible exception to the connection of honor and wisdom, though in the book-wide context of Proverbs, it can coherently relate to wisdom. Other passages with less direct connections to wisdom do, nevertheless, support the claim that wisdom begets honor (12:4; 17:6; 18:22; 20:29; see Plöger, Sprüche, 201–202; for kingship proverbs see Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 604–605).

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That suggests wisdom as somehow superior to social roles for determining what deserves honor, as if wisdom is decisive for being honorable regardless of whether it is exercised through a social role. But it is better to say that Proverbs in many cases describes what is honorable within the framework of particular social roles, rather than making these roles a necessary part of acquiring honor. For Proverbs also describes what is honorable with reference solely to wisdom and its constituents, as if honor comes not so much by fulfilling a particular role but by living wisely.22 For wisdom may very well beget honor at the expense of established social roles: “A servant who acts wisely will rule over a son who acts shamefully [‫]שׁמבי‬, and he will share the inheritance among brothers” (Prov 17:2).23 The son, who should by cultural standards acquire his family inheritance, acts shamefully and is therefore displaced by the servant who acts wisely. Such an absurd reversal shows the significance of shame in Proverbs and the power of wisdom, which here implicitly corresponds to honor, as the servant who acts with wisdom no doubt receives the honor forfeited by the disgraceful son.24 In further support of this remark, Prov 22:1 refers to honor as more valuable than wealth, and 8:18 indicates that Wisdom possesses all of these, including honor,25 so that although the exercise of wisdom and folly by an individual may have occurred within the context of that person’s necessary social

22

23

24

25

These considerations should be borne in mind when trying to determine whether or not a “class ethic” appears in Proverbs (see, e.g., Barton, “Ethics,” 24–26). The discussion should also carefully distinguish Proverbs’ subject matter and its audience rather than conflating them, which produces at least two separate questions: Is there a class ethic in Proverbs, and does Proverbs target a particular social class? So Brian Kovacs, “Is There a Class-Ethic in Proverbs?,” in Essays in Old Testament Ethics, ed. J. Willis and J. Crenshaw (New York: KTAV, 1974), 173–189. W. R. Domeris (“Shame and Honour in Proverbs: Wise Women and Foolish Men,” OTE 8 [1995]: 94) would argue, based on Prov 12:9, that Proverbs values wealth more than honor. Translations (e.g., ESV) suggest the same: “Better to be lowly [dishonored] and have a servant than to play the great man and lack bread.” However, hithpael ‫“( ְמַּת ַכּ ֵבּד‬to play the great man”) should be interpreted as a reflexive (Nah 3:15), so that “honoring oneself,” not simply being honored, is less valuable than possessions. Proverbs 12:9, then, does not support a hierarchy of wisdom, wealth, and honor (i.e. regard from others). On this interpretation, see Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 39–40. Proverbs 17:2 need not repeal sayings like 19:10 and 30:22, which express the unsuitability of slaves acquiring positions of command. Its force lands upon the shameful son, who ought to get himself in order, whilst still making an astonishing point about the significance of wisdom within social standing. I take “honor,” not explicitly mentioned in Prov 22:1, to derive from the “name” and “favor” that the saying does describe.

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role(s), wisdom maintains a certain superiority over social role with respect to honor and shame in Proverbs.

The Meaning of Honor and Shame in Proverbs Having described the reasons for and contexts of honor and shame in Proverbs, the contents of these concepts have so far been left unexplained. In order to understand them, and not only their associations with other concepts in Proverbs, they must be defined. Daniel Wu has recently explored notions of honor and shame within the OT, with a particular focus on the book of Ezekiel.26 He challenges the social scientific studies of honor and shame that often over-simplify these notions within biblical literature, specifically critiquing those who import an agonistic model into biblical interpretation.27 As mentioned above, such a model treats honor as a limited good, transferred in a zero-sum game between contestants who necessarily lose honor as another gains it and vice versa. The biblical material, argues Wu, presents a more nuanced view of honor. First, honor is not always actualized through recognition, as in Athens, but is an objective reality that is then not necessarily but possibly recognized. This objective sense of honor particularly pertains to the Lord, who ought to be honored because he possesses certain attributes, not because people recognize them (e.g., Neh 9:5; Isa 4:2).28 Second, Wu suggests a typology of honor based on lexical categories of ‫כבד‬. The typology includes “substantive” notions of honor and “responsive” notions, which largely correlate to nominal and verbal uses of honor language in the OT.29 Substantive senses include weight/ substance/density/severity, possessions/wealth/abundance, significance/ status, splendor/magnificence, and name/character. Responsive honor includes reverence/respect, reward, and repute. In Wu’s terms, “there are some instances of ‫ כבד‬that refer to the actual properties of the object, irrespective of the perceptions of others, while others refer to the action or disposition of a party in the response to the object.”30 Substantive honor derives from honorable properties whereas responsive honor refers to the human response to that which is honorable.

26

27 29

Daniel Wu, Honor, Shame, and Guilt: Social-Scientific Approaches to the Book of Ezekiel, BBRSupp 14 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2016). 28 So Domeris, “Shame and Honour,” 86–102. Wu, Honor, 67, 71. 30 Wu, Honor, 58–78. Wu, Honor, 64.

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These categories of honor interrelate, and in Proverbs I would argue that they appear primarily in the “responsive” sense. Hence honor sometimes refers to the reverence or respect that a wise person receives for her actions (e.g., 12:8; 31:28–31; cf. 18:3) and may also refer to the repute or “name” that is highly regarded by others (e.g., 4:8; 10:7; 20:3). So “A man is praised according to his good sense” (12:8a), and those who “prize” wisdom will be “exalted” by her (4:8a). It may refer to the reward that wise behavior confers, as “the wise will inherit honor” (3:35a; so 28:23), a sense of recognized distinction that also accounts for the “favor” that is shown to honorable people (e.g., 11:27; 14:35). This evidence of honor within Proverbs, then, includes Wu’s entire typology of “responsive” notions and many associated substantive senses: respect/ significance, reward/abundance, and repute/name. The category of honor as “magnificence” or “splendor” also appears and yet does so within the social contexts of family and royalty. Hence, “grandchildren are the crown of the aged” (17:6; so 14:28; 20:29); that is, grandchildren constitute the honor of their grandparents as if being worn like a “crown,” an unquestionably magnificent and splendorous sort of honor. Although all other senses of honor appear in Proverbs, the nuance of “weight, density or severity,” as in the “heavy yoke” (‫ )על כבד‬laid upon the people (1 Kgs 12:11) or the “grievous” (‫ )כבדה‬sin of Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen 18:20), does not. References to shame within Proverbs, especially in the familial context, connote the entirety of Wu’s definition.31 For the lexeme ‫ש‬ ׁ ‫בו‬, he incorporates disappointment, dismay/disillusionment/despair, failure/ frustration/embarrassment, and “shame.”32 The particular sense of ‫ש‬ ׁ ‫בו‬ depends largely upon its context and often, according to Wu, includes disappointment and embarrassment, which suits the broad remarks about shame in Proverbs (e.g., 10:5; 19:26). Thus a son may shame his family, disappointing, frustrating, and embarrassing them by failing to work in harvest time (10:5), and create further shame, including levels of dismay and despair, by “doing violence to his father” (19:26). Without detailing each lexical nuance of terms for honor and shame in Proverbs, my 31 32

Wu, Honor, 100–104. If shame is, as Johanna Stiebert (The Construction of Shame in the Hebrew Bible: The Prophetic Contribution, JSOTSupp 346 [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002], 3) indicates, “an emotion focused on the vulnerability and conspicuousness of one’s selfimage (subjective, internalized) in terms of a perceived ideal (objective, external),” then Proverbs depicts such a self-image against idealized social roles and wisdom characteristics.

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treatment suffices to demonstrate the gamut of meanings that Proverbs employs for these concepts, giving an adequate sense for what the lexemes refer to in relation to their semantic domains. That complements the world and relationships within which honor and shame are exchanged in Proverbs, particularly the kinship group and wisdom–folly framework, and it now enables us to investigate what is most important for understanding honor and shame with respect to moral virtue: the underlying criteria that determine them in Proverbs and how these criteria compare with Aristotle’s.

A Comparison of Views on Honor and Shame in Proverbs and the NE: Goodness, Wisdom, and Competition The first similarity between honor in Proverbs and the NE arises from honor’s relation to God. In Proverbs, God deserves honor (3:9; 14:31). For Aristotle, honor constitutes the greatest of external goods, in part, because it is “the thing which we offer as a tribute to the gods” (NE 4.3.10). To an extent, then, honor receives its substance and status due its relation to the divine. Second, Aristotle contends that the “good man” (ὁ ἀγαθὸς) deserves honor and therefore that a person’s goodness determines the amount of honor one should expect and receive (4.3.14–15), and ideally it is only that goodness, not one’s wealth or social status, which determines one’s honor (4.3.18–20). Proverbs too forwards a fundamental characteristic of what is honorable and calls that characteristic wisdom, so that in the same way that goodness begets honor for Aristotle, wisdom begets honor in Proverbs. This commonality leads, third, to the possibility of receiving honor regardless of social role in both Proverbs and Aristotle.33 It may be independent of one’s function as a king or servant and, thanks to goodness and wisdom, universally obtainable. The mention of honor’s universality in Proverbs, whilst a point of connection with Aristotle, also raises points of dissimilarity. While Proverbs primarily displays honor as bestowed upon those who are and act wisely and does so regardless of their social standing, it nevertheless attaches some honor and shame to particular social roles. It could be argued that within the context of Proverbs, these social roles receive honor in as much as they exhibit wisdom, such as the child, servant, or wife who is as estimable as she is wise (e.g., 10:1, 5; 14:35; 28:7). 33

On this universality, see MacIntyre, After Virtue, 153–155.

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However, in Proverbs it still seems that certain characters, “when they are considering what to do, will always ask what would be best, most fitting, or the duty of someone of their social status to do,” a fitting description by Roger Crisp of virtue’s connection with social role in the works of Homer.34 That brand of social role sets the exercise and recognition of virtue within the context of kinship, and in Proverbs honor also operates within these contexts – social role and the kinship group – and to that extent reflects a Homeric understanding of virtue. MacIntyre has shown that from Homer to Athens virtue was detached from particular social roles and attached to humans as such, and that the context of morality transitioned from the kinship group to the polis.35 As shown above, Aristotle is concerned with honor based on goodness alone and, as will be argued below, honor for the citizen of the polis. Proverbs, with its universalization of wisdom, is like the Aristotelian model that universalizes based on goodness, and yet it retains social roles as a context for honor and certainly uses the kinship group as a social framework, in contrast to something like the polis. As a kinship group, the Iron Age household forms a part of the background of Proverbs, especially its references to family, and this context may best explain why honor is so valuable in the book.36 For Proverbs does not depict honor as valuable in and of itself, as Prov 16:31 makes clear: “Grey hair is a crown of glory; it is found in the way of righteousness.” Honor is of secondary value here and is presumed desirable so that the reader’s wish might turn ultimately toward righteousness, as if to ask, “You want the glory of grey hair? You will find it in the way of righteousness.”37 Proverbs 16:31 assumes that honor is valuable, making an assumption that other passages often imply within a kinship context, such as the command to “listen to your father” and to “not despise your mother when she is old” (Prov 23:22), or as 34

35

36

37

Crisp, “Homeric Ethics,” 15. Cf. Victor Matthews, “Honor and Shame in GenderRelated Legal Situations in the Hebrew Bible,” in Gender and Law in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East, JSOTSupp 262, ed. V. Matthews, B. Levinson and T. Frymer-Kensky (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 98–99. MacIntyre, After Virtue, 153–155; Whose Justice, 12–46. This is not to say that Homer shows no concern for the city and Aristotle no concern for kinship, but is only to say what characterizes the context of moral virtue and what notably changes (cf. Stephen Scully, Homer and the Sacred City [Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990], esp. 100–113, also 54–68, 129–136). See Keefer, “Family and Daily Life,” in The Biblical World, ed. K. Dell (Routledge, forthcoming). See Stewart, Poetic Ethics, 111. The glory in Prov 16:31, of course, is identified with longevity.

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found in the law that “you shall arise before the grey head and honor [‫ ]הדרת‬the face of an old man” (Lev 19:32).38 And yet, while Proverbs values honor, it reorients one toward the greater value of wise living. For the honored “crown of glory” comes only “in the way of righteousness.” Both differing in and sharing their conceptions of honor, Proverbs and Aristotle also differ in their visions of ἀγών (“competition”). As argued earlier, Aristotle gives so much attention to honor because of his agonistic social context, which endowed honors depending on how one performed in the court room or on the sports field or in most any place that one man could compete against another and thereby gain recognition. Proverbs envisions no such rivalry between its “good” or “virtuous” persons. Where ἀγαθοι compete for honor in the Greek world, the “wise” do not compete in Proverbs, at least not with each other. The wise do compete, but they enter a competition between good and evil or wisdom and folly, rather than starting a brawl between one “wise” individual and another.39 The nature of this competition is depicted in Proverbs 9, where Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly invite the Proverbial townsfolk to their respective dinners. Wisdom invites the simpleton to leave his ways and walk the way of insight (9:6), just as Folly invites him, along with those who lack sense, to join her (9:16). Nothing indicates that these simpletons are in competition with one another. All of them receive an invitation from and have equal access to Wisdom and Folly, the two Ladies who exhibit the real contest in Proverbs. The wise person does not receive honor by defeating the foolish person but rather by defeating folly itself. The wise have chosen Wisdom, and all, it seems, have the opportunity to “win” in Proverb’s moral world. Proverbs, though, not only characterizes its agonistic context in terms of good and evil rather than person-versus-person. It also inverts those competitive personal relationships. So rather than contending with each other, “good” moral agents now help one another along the path to virtue. The one who corrects a scoffer gets himself disgrace [‫]קלון‬, and the one who reproves a wicked man gets hurt. Do not reprove a scoffer lest he hate you;

38 39

On these references, see Meinhold, Sprüche, 279. Such internal struggle resembles the description of the bad man’s relation to himself in NE 9.4.9, as he has no lovable qualities within him and therefore feels no affection for himself. His desire for pleasures leads his soul to “be at odds” (στασιάζω) with itself, as the pain and pleasure of abstinence from certain indulgences coexist.

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Honor, Shame, Humility, and Pride reprove a wise man and he will love you Give to the wise and he will be wiser still; cause the righteous to know and he will increase learning. (Prov 9:7–9)

These commands assume that attempts are being made to help others, whether they be wise or foolish, and to do so through instruction. Those who correct a scoffer incur injury while those who instruct a wise man watch him grow in wisdom. As the “ἀγαθος” of Proverbs, the person adherent to 9:7–9 does not compete with his tutee so that only one receives the “prize” of honor. He reproves and thereby assists his teachable partner along the way to wisdom. That a certain audience is unteachable in this case does not necessarily mean that they compete with the wise tutor but rather that they are not worth his efforts, being the “wicked” or “scoffers” and in the main callous ingrates toward correction that cause any critic disgrace. The wise man battles not so much against them as he does against any inclination toward folly itself. For the moral agents of Proverbs do operate within an agonistic context, but this context is the struggle with good and evil, the contest of wisdom and folly, rooted of course in one’s disposition toward the Lord (9:10). It is not a competition with other virtuous beings. The recognition gained from the mutual support of wise-correcting-wise resembles that “honour shared with everybody” which Dover rightly finds unlikely within the Athenian moral world.40

humility and pride Self-Regard in Proverbs: Humility and Pride Proverbs and Aristotle depict honor as something due to divine beings that is determined by a single, universally available characteristic – goodness for Aristotle and wisdom for Proverbs – and in these senses they agree. Proverbs differs from Aristotle by attaching honor and shame to particular social roles, which are of secondary importance to an individual’s wisdom, and by placing moral agents within an alternative ἀγών: in Proverbs, the moral agent struggles with good and evil rather than other moral agents. Since the entirety of evidence regarding honor and shame in Proverbs has not been accounted for, a final distinction between these

40

Dover, Greek Popular Morality, 231.

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moral visions of Aristotle and Proverbs must be discussed and is made clear in view of the remaining passages. In addition to attributing honor to wisdom and shame to folly, as well as to various social roles and God, Proverbs contends that honor and shame are caused, respectively, by humility and pride (11:2; 15:33; 16:18; 18:12; 22:4; 29:23). I have called humility and pride emotions of “selfregard,” since they indicate the way in which people regard themselves, the former viewing oneself relatively lower than the latter. Both emotions, as argued earlier, fit the criteria of Aristotelian moral virtue, wherein pride and diffidence are vices of excess and deficiency, and humility is the meanstate of how one regards oneself. Half of the passages that show humility or pride causing honor or shame mention the Lord and indicate that “self” regard perhaps incorporates a certain regard for God and not only a view of oneself (15:33; 18:12; 22:4). Similar associations appear in the material regarding “humility” (‫)ענוה‬, which at the least refers to a pious submission before God (15:33; 22:4). In 15:33 the lexeme for humility parallels “the fear of the Lord,” and in 22:4, according to John Dickson and Brian Rosner, it is either “synonymous with ‘the fear of the Lord’ OR a ‘humble fear of the Lord’. Either way,” and this is true of both occurrences, “[‫ ]ענוה‬connotes lowliness before God.”41 Offering a slightly different angle, Prov 18:12 identifies humility with those who find refuge in the Lord. “Before destruction a man’s heart is high, and before honor is humility.” When interpreted in light of verses 10–11, Prov 18:12 aligns humility with the righteous person who runs into the strong tower that is the Lord (v. 10) unlike the man whose wealth provides fortification (v. 11).42 In a line, “the Lord, not riches, is my refuge.” Other proverbs from the current body of evidence support the notion that “the proud” (‫ )גאוה ;גאון‬find refuge in objects alternative to God (16:18; 22:4; 29:23), a form of defiance corroborated elsewhere in the OT, as when the enemies of David attack him with “pride” (‫)גאון‬, 41

42

Dickson and Rosner, “Humility,” 466 (italics original). The interpretation of “the fear of the Lord” depends largely on its context, and interpreters have often problematically either imported the entire scope of the phrase’s meaning into each occurrence or reduced “fear” to the denotation of an emotion. See, e.g., M. V. Van Pelt and W. C. Kaiser “‫ירא‬,” NIDOTTE 2:528; David Clines, “‘The Fear of the Lord Is Wisdom’ (Job 28:28): A Semantic and Contextual Study,” in Job 28: Cognition in Context, ed. E. J. V. Van Wolde (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 57–72; Schwab, Toward an Interpretation, 139–144. Proverbs 18:12 does contain some semantic links to 18:13–15, such as “before” (though different lexemes) and “heart” (‫)לב‬. Meinhold (Sprüche, 302) finds these decisive for the cohesion of these passages, but the conceptual coherence of 18:10–12 seems unquestionably stronger (so Whybray, Proverbs, 267–269).

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thinking they go unseen, whilst the psalmist all-the-while finds refuge in the Lord as his fortress (Ps 50:10[9], 13[12], 17[16]). Likewise, those with “pride” (‫ )גאוה‬defy God (Ps 10:2) and trust not in him but in their own fortifications (Isa 25:11) and riches (Ps 73:5–6, 12; cf. 31:19–25 [18–24]).43 With reference to the Lord, then, the proverbs that relate honor and shame to humility and pride indicate that humility refers to submission/lowliness before the Lord or to finding refuge in him. A third category identifies humility with heeding instruction (Prov 11:2; 15:33). Proverbs 15:31–32 contrasts those who listen to instruction with those who ignore it in order to prime the saying of 15:33 – “The fear of the Lord is instruction in wisdom; humility is before honor.” Also connoting some sort of submission before the Lord, “humility” here associates with heeding “instruction” (‫)מוסר‬, which at least refers to human teaching and probably to instruction of a divine character (1:7; 3:11; cf. 8:10; 15:33), meaning that the humble abide by such education. Likewise, there is a “pride” (‫ )זדון‬that results in disgrace (11:2a) and is elsewhere contrasted with the wisdom of taking advice (13:10). “Pride [‫ ]זדון‬comes, and then comes disgrace” (11:2a);44 “Only by pride [‫]בזדון‬ comes strife, but with those who take advise is wisdom” (13:10). Collectively, these six passages that show humility and pride causing honor and shame (11:2; 15:33; 16:18; 18:12; 22:4; 29:23) hold a compelling theological outlook on humility: submission before God, finding refuge in him, and heeding (his) instruction. Rather than conceiving of humility as a posture toward God alone – submitting to him or welcoming his teaching – it is evident that all of these nuances also imply a regard for the self in relation to God. Humility regards the self as lower than God, his wisdom, teaching, and protection, while pride regards the self more highly than God and may replace him with alternative teaching or objects. The passages just discussed largely assume an understanding of humility and pride, but other passages that address self-regard further clarify what humility and pride may refer to in Proverbs. It is often remarked that the human views himself as wise, pure, or right “in his 43

44

For a study of pride based primarily on the OT prophets that includes a brief comparison to hybris in ancient Greece, see Donald E. Gowan, When Man Becomes God: Humanism and ‘Hybris’ in the Old Testament, Pittsburgh Theological Monograph Series 6 (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 1975). The line contains a qatal followed by a wayyiqtol, woodenly read “Pride came and disgrace came.” There is a relation of consequence here, though a gnomic sense may be possible: “When pride comes, then disgrace comes too” (on this possibility, see Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 531).

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own eyes,” a type of self-regard categorically condemned.45 “Do not be wise in your eyes; fear the Lord and turn from evil” (Prov 3:7). Although 3:7 makes an outright condemnation of regarding oneself as “wise” (cf. 26:12, 16; 28:11), other sayings suggest that regarding the self as morally pure (16:2; 30:12–13), free of wrong (30:20), and right of way (21:2) are also problematic forms of that feeling. The meaning of these forms and the root of their problematic nature remain opaque, but Proverbs 1–9 clarifies that the human problem is, in addition to wicked behavior of various sorts, a lack of alignment with the Lord’s moral affection and assessment (e.g., 3:27–35; 6:16–19): hate what he hates, and love what he loves.46 The juxtaposition in 3:7 reflects such an idea, as the human problem (regarding oneself as wise) pairs with a theological solution (fear the Lord), and the argument is further supported by the fact that the Lord evaluates human notions of self-regard. For “All the ways of a man are pure in his eyes, but the Lord weighs the spirit” (16:2; also 6:17; 16:5; 21:2). The issue of self-regard is linked here with the broader notion that one’s own affections ought to align with God’s. By implication, humans regard themselves too highly and the Lord too lowly, failing to acquire his sense and standard for wisdom, purity, and moral uprightness. High regard for self correlates to low regard for the Lord. In terms of Aristotelian virtue, it follows that humans hit the mean of self-regard when they regard themselves as the Lord does rather than as their own “wisdom” would. In other words, their self-regard should be Lord-determined rather than self-determined or Folly-determined.47 And it seems that the categories of wisdom, purity, and uprightness serve as the objects of self-regard in the same way that goodness and wisdom served as the grounds for honor. In other words, the “self” in Proverbs is the object of how one views and assesses one’s own wisdom, moral purity, and uprightness, features that hold not only a moral quality but a religious quality too, since “humility” closely aligns with the “fear of the Lord” (15:33; 22:4), and right regard for self depends upon the Lord’s evaluation. Other than humility and pride, self-regard is associated with social roles (12:9; 15:25; 16:19; 25:6–7; 29:24; 30:21–23). It is said that the

45

46 47

Proverbs 3:7; 16:2; 21:2; 22:5; 26:12, 16; 27:2, 21; 28:11; 29:24; 30:12–13, 20; cf. 24:24; 27:21; 29:24; 30:32–33. For further discussion, see Keefer, Proverbs 1–9. Isaiah 5:21 condemns those who are “wise in their own eyes” and suggests that this involves moral misidentification: calling evil good and good evil (Isa 5:20, also 5:22–23).

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earth trembles under three things, and “under four it cannot bear up,” that fourth being “a maidservant that displaces her lady” (30:23b). While the third and fourth things of 30:21–23 often receive attention for their depiction of social upheaval – a slave becoming king; a fool filled with food; an unloved woman gaining a husband – the moral wrongness of the final act should be noted.48 A maidservant displacing her lady would entail at least two things: first, the maid must have the cunning to navigate such a displacement; second, the familial structure sanctioned by biblical law must be overturned, including the faithfulness of the husband to his wife.49 Any maid successful at that task would regard herself too highly and must ambitiously pursue a social role not her own.50 Because it is, in part, the social context that determines the moral quality of her actions, hitting the mean in this case means operating within the bounds of a social role and doing only what a maidservant ought to do as such. Excessive self-regard causes the maid to break these boundaries by displacing her lady and, in the view of Proverbs, commit moral wrong. In summary, humility involves regarding the self, especially one’s wisdom and moral purity, as the Lord decides rather than how the self would. According to Proverbs, the former deserves honor and the latter begets shame. To be humble may also mean to operate within the social boundaries prescribed by certain roles, such as servanthood or husbandwife or studentship. It sounds a bit like ‫ ענוה‬when defined as the “acknowledgement of one’s proper status, not hypocritical false modesty,” and not only that but each of the definitions offered here captures this idea of acknowledging one’s proper status, whether before God, with respect to wisdom and purity, or before other social roles.51 Acknowledging one’s status before God, which predominates in the pertinent evidence, correlates with submitting to him, finding refuge in him, and heeding his, as well as his sanctioned, instruction, all of which fits with regarding the self as lowly, a disposition that Proverbs deems virtuous. 48

49 51

For interpretations of social upheaval, see Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 493; Van Leeuwen, “Proverbs 30:21–23 and the Biblical World Upside Down,” JBL 105 (1986): 599–610. Whybray (Proverbs, 417) is on the mark when he says that “each depicts the unexpected rise to influence or position of a kind of person normally despised or dismissed by society as of no importance . . . But it is not the change of fortune in itself which is felt to be intolerable. The use of the temporal clause (kî, when . . . ) in each case shows that the point of the proverb lies in the behaviour of such persons after their elevation or promotion. The proverb in its brevity only hints at this; but the kind of behaviour which best fits all these cases is probably an intolerable conceit or arrogance.” 50 See Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 877–878. See Prov 25:6–7b for another good example. Gerstenberger, “‫ָעָנה‬,” 241.

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Self-Regard in Aristotle: Greek “Humility” Proverbs places self-regard within Aristotle’s scheme of excess, deficiency, and mean-state, but Aristotle himself does not treat self-regard in this way. It has been argued that the μεγαλόψυχος (“great-souled man”) is the “counterpart of the lowly and humble man,” as if the great-souled and humble-souled were an Aristotelian pair of two types of self-regard.52 But Aristotle does not use “humility” to characterize this “lowly and humble” man and instead employs such terms (derivatives of ταπεινός; “humility”) for those of low social status and demeanor, primarily unfree people resigned to physical labor. While this does make some connection between a conception of humility and social roles, Klaus Wengst’s observation about the lowly and humble man as a counterpart to the greatsouled person is less helpful for the issue of self-regard. For Aristotle speaks of the “humble” but does not reveal the nature of their selfregard; like other Greek and Latin authors, he simply looks down “on the little people from above.”53 His remarks unveil how others regard lowly people rather than how the lowly regard themselves, suggesting that in order to determine what Aristotle thinks of self-regard and humility within his moral framework the best starting point is not the lexical occurrences of ταπεινός but rather his conceptual notions of self-regard in the NE. Aristotle comments on self-regard within three discussions in the NE – greatness of soul (4.3), truthfulness (4.7), and friendship (8.8–9) – and I am particularly interested to discover if and how he conceives of the concept of humility as delineated from Proverbs. First, according to Aristotle, the “great-souled” man regards himself accurately, that is, in accordance with what he deserves. He “claims much [honor] and deserves much [honor]” (4.3.3). That assumes an accurate knowledge of the self and especially of how good one is, since goodness determines the appropriate level of honor. When dealing with the vice of vanity, which runs counter to the great-souled, Aristotle explicitly states that vain people are “ignorant about themselves” (ἑαυτοὺς ἀγνοοȗντες; 4.3.36). Therefore, the great-souled man knows his own goodness and thereby rightly claims the honor he deserves. 52

53

Klaus Wengst, Demut – Solidarität der Gedemütigten: Wandlungen eines Begriffes und seines sozialen Bezugs in griechisch-romischer, alttestamentlich-jüdischer und urchristlicher Tradition (München: Chr. Kaiser, 1987), 19, see 15–34; “Das Gegenbild des Niedrigen und Demütigen.” Wengst, Demut, 35; “von oben auf die kleinen Leute.”

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If there is anything in Aristotle’s discussion on “greatness of soul” that aligns most with Proverbial humility it is “smallness of soul”: “He that claims less than he deserves is small-souled, whether his deserts be great or only moderate, or even though he deserves little, if he claims still less. The most small-souled of all would seem to be the man who claims less than he deserves when his deserts are great” (4.3.7). Aristotle does not say that small-souled people are “ignorant about themselves” or that they are foolish like vain people are, though both are mistaken rather than actually evil (4.3.35), so it is not entirely clear if the small-souled man knows himself accurately. He does, however, claim less honor than he deserves, regardless of how great or small his deserts. Presuming that the small-souled person knows his level of goodness and consequently the amount of honor he would deserve, his bona fide claim to inadequate honor possibly reflects a low level of self-regard, particularly a low regard of one’s personal goodness. Compared to the alternative vice, the small-souled man errs to a greater degree than the vain person, meaning that such smallness is more opposed to greatness of soul than vanity is (4.3.37). Among vices, then, this one is particularly abysmal to Aristotle and suggests a stark contrast to that “humble” view of one’s self so advocated by Proverbs. Second, Aristotle addresses self-regard in NE 4.7, where he discusses truthfulness and how one should admit the truth “concerning himself” (περὶ αὑτόν; 4.7.4). People’s attempts to speak about themselves may err in two ways: “the boaster is a man who pretends to creditable qualities that he does not possess, or possesses in a lesser degree than he makes out, while conversely the self-depreciator disclaims or disparages good qualities that he does possess” (4.7.2–3). These, in a word, refer to boasting and self-deprecating, and unlike both is the virtuous man who “admits the truth about his own qualifications without either exaggeration or understatement” (4.7.4). As with greatness of soul, Aristotle ranks the vices related to truth-telling to say that self-deprecation is the less grievous of errors: “The sincere man will diverge from the truth, if at all, in the direction of understatement rather than exaggeration; since this appears in better taste, as all excess is offensive” (4.7.9; so 4.7.14, 17). Exaggeration marks the worst form of self-talk imaginable, as he presents his poor qualities as talents of high esteem. It is better to understate one’s aptitude, downplaying those talents one does possess. This self-deprecator “disclaims or disparages good qualities that he does possess” (4.7.3) and, I would argue, possesses a form of low self-regard and consequently “humility.” The self-deprecator understates his good qualities because he has a low level of self-regard.

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In the previous two examples, Aristotle seems inconsistent in his treatment of vices. With respect to claiming honors, he prefers the vice of vanity, yet with respect to truth-telling he prefers the vice of understatement. One regards the self too highly and the other too lowly. If consistent, Aristotle would place excessive claims to honor and personal qualities on the same plane, and understated claims to honor and good qualities on the same plane. My interest here is not to uncover the reasons for this inconsistency or to speculate about methods for removing it. I simply draw attention to the idea that these vices – one of excess and one of deficiency – respectively constitute forms of pride and humility within the context of virtues and vices, which Aristotle in one case orders in preference to pride and in another case orders in preference to humility. Whilst erring in different directions, both nevertheless express how a person regards his or her qualities of goodness, one claiming honor and the other disclaiming good qualities. That goodness shared by both categories corresponds to the concept of wisdom in Proverbs, which determines honor and constitutes one of the most important objects of self-regard. However, Proverbs enforces that people should regard themselves as lowly in wisdom and should assume a posture of teachability regardless of how “wise” they actually are. There seems to be no approved level of pride toward one’s wisdom. In contrast, Aristotle champions accuracy in self-regard whilst favoring the man of paramount goodness, namely, the honor-deserving μεγαλόψυχος. Only Lady Wisdom rivals this man’s goodness and corresponding self-recognition (e.g., Prov 8:6–8, 12–14) while the wise person of Proverbs views himself as always in need of her. A personification of all goodness, that wise man contrasts with the μεγαλόψυχος, who is already as upright as he can be, and even when considering the vices of acquiring honor, Aristotle’s preference for vanity, an excessive level of self-regard, rather than smallness of soul counters the morality of Proverbs and its partiality for humility rather than pride. The better “error” in Proverbs is to regard oneself too lowly; too much regard for one’s wisdom or moral uprightness is the greater danger. Third and finally, Aristotle incorporates self-regard into his discussion on friendship: it is also true that the virtuous man’s conduct is often guided by the interests of his friends and of his country, and that he will if necessary lay down his life in their behalf . . . And he behaves in the same manner as regards honours and offices also: all these things he will relinquish to his friend, for this is noble [καλὸν] and praiseworthy for himself. (NE 9.8.9–10)

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Friendship may call a man to lay down his life, and if not his life then his honor or office. For the “nobility” obtained in that act is more valuable than honor, and the amity that drives it springs from an accurate perception of the self, which, if good, leads to a love for the self (8.8.5; 9.8.7; cf. 9.4.1–5) and motivates a love for others. Therefore within the context of self-regard Aristotle views self-sacrifice as more virtuous than garnering honor.54 Another’s interest may outweigh one’s own and determine moral activity, even driving a friend to sacrifice her own life and perhaps requiring what Aristotle labels “smallness of soul.” Might not relinquishing honor to a friend entail claiming less honor than one deserves? Say, for instance, that two warriors return from battle having accomplished equal feats of courage. In order to act as μεγαλόψυχοι, they must claim the honor they deserve, and yet according to NE 9.8 one soldier may relinquish his own honor for the sake of the other. He would claim less than he deserves and, I contend, exercise smallness of soul. Perhaps there is room for a sort of humility in Aristotle’s moral philosophy after all. This noble act of lowliness seems to be motivated by loyalty to the state, as one would presumably lay down one’s life to spare a comrade and protect a common home. Little more is said about this, and our attention is instead drawn to how such self-sacrifice relates to the final, overriding feature of self-regard in Proverbs. The influence of friends and country in the NE, which inspires the sacrifice of personal honor, aligns with the influence of God and moral instructors in Proverbs, as each of these ought to be determinative for self-regard within their respective moral frameworks. In Proverbs humans regard themselves rightly when they regard themselves as the Lord does rather than how their own “wisdom” would determine. The person who complies with this, heeding neither his own self-estimation nor the regard of Folly, is “humble.” For Aristotle, the gods do not determine how humans should or do regard themselves, and while not addressing “humility” as an aspect of morality by name, the notion of self-regard does arise in the NE, where low levels

54

David Bostock (Aristotle’s Ethics, 167–186) has leveled accurate critiques at Aristotle’s chain of reasoning here. In addition to exposing Aristotle’s failure to causally connect self-love and altruism, Bostock rightly says that his concern with “nobility” in this discussion “is a mere red herring.” It does not clearly bridge the gap between acting for self-love, and thereby for the love of others, and acting for one’s own eudaimonia. Accounting for the whole of the NE, Bostock adds that “In all of this there is simply no recognition of the thought that what is good for me may conflict with what is good for my community, and I think it is fair to say that in general Aristotle simply does not notice that there is a potential problem here” (186).

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of regard for oneself back two vices, one claiming few honors (i.e. “smallness of soul”) and another disclaiming one’s good qualities (i.e. “self-deprecation”). Aristotle ridicules the first and yet he prefers the second to its alternative of boasting, exposing an inconsistency which suggests that low self-regard – problematic in itself – does not operate as an equalizing power in his moral philosophy. In one case it is the lesser of two evils and in another the greater. Therefore another value may be operative. In his discussion of friendship, “humility” receives accolades only because a person may rightly sacrifice his own honor on behalf of a friend or country. Such an act requires a low view of oneself – failing to lay claim to the honors one deserves – and along with “smallness of soul” and “self-reflection” reflects a sort of “humility.” However, this praised form of self-sacrifice neither appears in Proverbs nor has the same underlying cause as Proverbial humility, which champions God instead of friends or country as the ultimate norm for self-regard. Therefore, even though forms of humility crop up in the NE, they cannot be likened to the Proverbial brand of humility because they either constitute vices or harbor different premises. Humility exemplifies the differences of Proverbs and Aristotle’s NE, which may seem apparent on the surface of these texts and yet, when probed, reveal that two worlds of social and historical context underlie the claims of these moral traditions. Pride, of course, goes along with this, and the concepts of honor and shame call for their own means of explanation, including the significance of how Israelites and Athenians understood the place of fulfilling a social role, and the alternative authority of goodness and wisdom in their ethical thought. This chapter, then, has explained not only the meaning of these moral concepts but has also explained their place and structure as concepts of virtue within two traditions of moral thought that were divided in time, space, culture, and dogma.

5 Courage, Work, Speech, and Friendship

The most extended look at any single group of virtue concepts occurred in the previous chapter, which explained the place and meaning of honor and shame within Proverbs and the NE, and compared the related idea of self-regard. The surface of these moral concepts was broken once their sociohistorical and doctrinal contexts were taken into consideration, and it is only by means of those contexts that Proverbs can be established as a moral tradition. Seen now to have distinct judgments about what regard from others and regard for oneself entail, Proverbs as a book of virtue also holds promise for courage, work, speech, and friendship, all of which are explored in this chapter like honor and shame were in the preceding.

courage in the polis and proverbs When reading the descriptions of particular moral virtues in Book 3 of the NE, the initial and lengthiest concept glares: courage. Courage inaugurates the discussion of moral virtue not only in the NE but also in the EE, earning a pride of place within the works of Aristotle that it does not have in Proverbs, wherein fear and courage receive little attention, and thereby provokes an explanation. How are such distinct treatments of courage to be accounted for?

Greek Courage Called ἡ ἀνδρεία in the NE, “courage” refers to the ability to stand composed and unfazed in the face of fearful or “evil things” (τὰ κακά; 120

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NE 3.6.2). Since death is the most terrible and fearful event of all, courage acquires its noblest form in the context of battle, where soldiers face the fear of death and risk the greatest amount of public (dis)honor. For the esteem of courage coheres with the thunderous praise it receives through public honors in republics and monarchies (3.6.8).1 This “true courage,” as Aristotle calls it, arises for the sake of nobility as such and for the defense of the polis, remaining untainted by any alternative motivation or aim. It differs from five other sorts of courage, the first two of which are closest to the pure and still occur within the context of battle (3.8.1–9). As “civic” or “political” courage (ἡ πολιτική), the first is exercised by the citizen who fights for his city based on the fear of being shamed and the desire to be honored (ἡ τιμή). In the second type, professional soldiers (i.e. mercenaries) experience the fears of battle so regularly that they are less prone to cowardice and exhibit courage as a sort of norm until the odds of victory change and these “courageous” soldiers flee.2 The three remaining forms of courage, of less importance for my discussion, share other lessthan-pure motivations in the face of fear, differing from true courage that occurs in battle and for the sake of nobility in-and-of-itself as well as for the defense of the polis. Given the priority and taxonomy of courage, the question returns: Why do Aristotle and Proverbs treat courage so differently and why, in particular, does Aristotle esteem courage so much? At NE 10.1, Aristotle says that after courage he will deal with temperance and gives an explanation for treating the virtues in this order: “these appear to be the virtues of the irrational parts of the soul.” This remark explains why he treats courage and temperance together – they are both virtues of “the irrational parts of the soul” – but it does not explain why he begins his discussion of moral virtue with them. In his Rhetoric, Aristotle says that The greatest of virtues are necessarily those which are most useful [τὰς χρησιμοτάτος] to others, if virtue is the faculty of conferring benefits . . . For this reason justice and courage are the most esteemed, the latter being useful to others in war, and former in peace as well . . . Courage makes men perform noble acts in the midst of dangers according to the dictates of the law and in submission to it. (Rhet. 1.9.6, 8)

1

2

For the relation of militaristic death and public honor to the court system, see Liddel, Civic Obligation, 287–290. The fixation on battle rather than athletic courage matches the relative importance of war according to many other Greek texts (David M. Pritchard, Sport, Democracy and War in Classical Athens [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012], 110–113).

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Aristotle makes this comment on the usefulness of courage within the context of the nobility of virtuous acts and so holds continuity with the above statements from the NE, which appraise courage based on its capacity for honor. The Rhetoric prioritizes courage because it is “most useful” to others by producing noble acts in war. It causes men to fight without the fear of death and so confers benefits to other soldiers and to the community for whom those soldiers fight. Although this passage clarifies the importance of courage’s usefulness, it does not explain why the utility of courage warrants it a leading place among the virtues. In other words, why do courageous acts in war deserve more esteem than virtuous acts in other contexts? In addition to the degree of honor that was at stake in war, I contend that the prominence of courage in Aristotle’s ethic arises for two reasons: his sociohistorical and intellectual contexts. From 500 to 350 BCE, war occurred regularly around the Mediterranean region – Greco–Persian and Peloponnesian Wars, followed by Spartan and Theban rules – making battle a norm and courage a necessity. If defeated in battle, a Greek population could lose its citizenship and its opportunity for leisure, and that would spell disaster for achieving happiness. War was, therefore, required and as a consequence did not occur for its own sake but for the sake of a secure city within which happiness could be pursued. For we “carry on war in order that we may have peace” (NE 10.7.6). The citizens of Aristotle’s polis fought in defense of Athens when the need arose, protecting their pursuit of happiness, and in this way the virtue was “useful” for the entire community. The regularities and nature of warfare also bore significance for other ethicists in the ancient world, notably Homer and Plato, who help to situate Aristotle’s position. Homer’s Iliad is quoted or referred to five times in the NE’s discussion on courage to buttress the pseudo-virtues of civic and professional soldiers. For instance, Homer’s character Hector manifests courage in his remark that he will boast at Troy if his activities secure victory over the Achaeans, to which Aristotle remarks, “this type of courage most closely resembles the one described before [i.e. true courage], because it is prompted by a virtue, namely the sense of shame, and by the desire for something noble, namely honour, and the wish to avoid the disgrace of being reproached” (NE 3.8). Courage was a, if not the, central virtue in the Homeric tradition, where virtues were exercised within the context of the household and kinship group, communities that established virtues as virtues through

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recognition.3 For example, it was not first a city or a ruler or oneself but a household that bestowed honor upon its heroes for their activities in battle, and even when honor did come from a ruler, that honor was framed in household terms, as in Priam’s recognition of Teucer whom he let reside in his house and “held in like honor with his own children” (Iliad 13.176).4 By culling the Iliad for examples of imperfect courage, Aristotle challenged the established Homeric moral tradition. Homer’s heroes act courageously because they want honor, and yet honor is an external good that Aristotle finds insufficient. For courage motivated by honor leads to self-sufficiency, leading Homeric heroes to presuppose “that they alone are responsible for their virtue,” and is therefore driven by the individual without the compulsion or needs of a political community, the primary social context in Aristotle’s view.5 Hence Achilles, unmoved by the need to defend a city and “deluded by his self-sufficiency . . . watches his fellow Acheans slaughtered by the Trojans.”6 Aristotle was not only responding to Homer but also to his more immediate predecessor, Plato. In his Republic, Plato upholds courage as one of three virtues central to the human constitution. It governs the spirited part of a human being so that reason might rule the whole (442b–c).7 Instead of exercising courage for the sake of external honors, Plato’s courage is exercised for the sake of virtue itself, thereby ridding courage of its physical and social contexts. As an internal ideal that allows reason to rule rightly within oneself, it needs no, and actually cannot function within, the polis or kinship group. Plato rejected what Homer championed, making these two traditions representative extremes in their views of virtue: Homer recognized the real, historical context of virtue; Plato recognized the ideal, ahistorical context of virtue. And so Aristotle, accounting for both the external and internal goods of courage, recognized that true courage derives from an ideal pursuit of nobility within the real context of the political community and its compulsions.8 Hence the warrior facing the grit of battle with an unwavering vision of the good. Aristotle reconciled the real and ideal aspects of a virtue that was central 3 5

6 8

4 See MacIntyre, After Virtue, 141–151. ὃ δέ μιν τίεν ἶσα τέκεσσι. See L. Ward, “Nobility and Necessity: The Problem of Courage in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics,” American Political Science Review 95 (2001): 75. 7 Ward, “Nobility,” 75. Cf. Plato’s Laches, e.g., 196d–197e. On the role of pleasure and desire for courage, see Sarah Broadie, Ethics with Aristotle (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 319–320. For a broad account of Greek literature on the terms and concepts related to courage, see Pritchard, Sport, 164–191.

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to two major moral traditions of his time and necessary for the basic security of his social community.9 For these reasons, courage received a first and extended place within his moral philosophy.

Proverbial Courage Proverbs does include courage as a virtue but by no means to the first degree. The book could be interpreted to include quite a bit of fear, given that the early chapters mention death and danger in order to curb the proverbial son from wicked people and wily women.10 The strange woman’s house, for instance, “sinks to death . . . none who go to her return or regain the paths of life” (2:18–19).11 To elicit a response, the warning depends upon the audience’s fear of death, which should jolt them from venturing anywhere near the strange woman. However, this use of fear, which resembles much of its use in Proverbs, does not praise or blame the emotion; it rather draws on the emotions of the Proverbial son in order to accomplish its pedagogical aims. That tactic, within the Aristotelian corpus, is more akin to a poet inciting fear through tragedy (Poet. 2.13) than to any sort of virtue.12 In Proverbs, fear is often implied as an emotion of the audience but not itself addressed by the text. If fear in Proverbs is to be spoken of in relation to Aristotelian virtue, then it must receive praise and blame. Praise is given to the fear felt in the face of general dangers or evil (14:16; 27:12), weather (31:21), human pursuers (28:1), and an unknown future (31:25). According to Prov 3:24–26, the moral perils encountered on life’s way (cf. 4:14–19), along with the physical death and harm that may also appear en route (cf. 4:10–12; 9:11; 24:16), can inspire fear. The passage promises that “if you lie down, you will not be afraid,” that sudden terror will not worry 9

10 11

12

Aristotle may reflect the order of Plato, who treats courage and self-mastery in Republic Books 1–2, but in light of my argument he does not, as Pakaluk (Aristotle’s, 159) argues, examine “these virtues first in deference to Plato.” See Prov 1:18–19, 26–32; 2:18–19; 5:4–5; 6:24–35; 7:22–27. “Death” here refers at least to physical death (cf. 5:5; 7:27) and perhaps to a miserable quality of life. The debated ‫שחה‬ ׁ (feminine, “sink”) and ‫( ביתה‬masculine, “her house”) of the MT is most likely a case of gender disharmony used for the sake of phonic connections (see Keefer, “Sound Patterns as Motivation for Rare Words in Proverbs 1–9,” JNSL 43 [2017]: 44). This distinction between fear that is praised and blamed, and fear that is a pathetic tool of rhetoric should be considered in proposals that “self-preservation” (or survival), based on the human fear of death, is the highest end of Proverbs (see Schwab, Toward an Interpretation, 110–127; cf. Stewart, Poetic Ethics, 112–114).

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you, and that the Lord will secure you. The reference to “lying down” (3:24) preceded by a reference to “walking” securely (3:23) constitutes a merism for all situations, supporting the generalized scope of fear and its objects.13 That passage and the rest do esteem “courage” as an appropriate level of fear but they do not permit a typology of courage as detailed as Aristotle’s, though the rash gang of Prov 1:10–19 exhibits Aristotle’s fourth type of faux courage – a sanguine bravery motivated by confidence in their superior strength – and adultery (6:24–35) requires Aristotle’s third form of courage, one driven by an emboldened spirit, i.e., lust. As a positive feature fear takes a form all its own, cohering not with a certain type of Aristotelian courage and yet falling within the spectrum of vice and virtue. It is a courage grounded in wisdom and the Lord (3:21–26; 31:21, 25, 30) or arising in types of people defined by their theological postures, like the righteous and prudent person (27:12; 28:1). Proverbial virtue again acquires a theological coloring. There is little reason to think that this sort of fear occurs in the context of battle. As explained in Chapter 3, the lion simile in Prov 28:1 – “the righteous are as bold as a lion” – does occur in warlike contexts (2 Sam 17:10; Isa 31:4; Jer 49:19; Psalms) and within proverbial sayings applied to rulers (Prov 19:12; 20:2; 28:15), but Proverbs also uses the lion image outside of the context of war (22:13; 26:13), and when it mentions warfare (20:18; 21:31; 24:6; cf. 11:11; 16:32), the book reenforces wisdom and the Lord as the sources of victory: “the horse is prepared for the day of battle, but victory belongs to the Lord” (21:31); “by guidance you should conduct war, and in an abundance of counselors there is victory” (24:6). If these proverbs are pressed to include a notion of courage, then they affirm Proverbs’ theological courage, one more prominently displayed in non-war contexts such as protecting a person from sexual danger.14 Courage in Proverbs, therefore, neither derives 13

14

Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 264. The clearest object of fear in this passage is the “ruin of the wicked” (3:25b), which gives slightly more substance to the “sudden dread” (3:25a) that the audience is commanded to not fear. Although it may refer to the “assaults of the wicked” (LXX), it more likely signals the ruin experienced by wicked people, harm that in this case may be dreaded by the wise or prospectively wise person herself. As Meinhold (Sprüche, 85) observes, “sudden dread” can “meet even the most irreproachable people.” Several commentators view these proverbs as applicable only to “the battle of life” rather than “to political policy or military strategy, of which the authors of these proverbs would have had no knowledge or experience” (Whybray, Proverbs, 297). Although a metaphorical meaning seems suitable, there is not enough evidence to conclude either way: that the authors were unexperienced in this way or that these sayings have relation to actual war scenarios.

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from nobility, external honors, or political necessity, nor functions upon a battlefront, like the better and worse forms of Aristotelian courage; it rather pulls upon theological roots and functions amidst daily anxieties and moral threats. Proverbial courage is understood within its religioethical setting and stands confident before temptations to evil and threats common to an ancient Near Eastern community. In Proverbs, then, courage meets the criteria it must to be an Aristotelian moral virtue. But there it finds no place of prominence as it does in the NE, where it inaugurates a set of examples on moral virtue, proceeding with temperance, liberality, magnificence, magnanimity, and so on. Proverbs too parts ways with the NE in its source and context for courage, which does not disqualify it from being a moral virtue but does reveal in what ways it is not Aristotelian.

work in proverbs and (not) in athens The Work of Athenian Citizens Proverbs and the NE know what it means to be honorable, and yet the mechanics of this honor look very different for each of them. So too both texts know what it means to be courageous, and yet courage takes alternative positions of prominence in each. Individual to one of these texts are two moral actions, unchampioned by Aristotle among the moral virtues but featured within Proverbs: namely, work and speech. Aristotle does not even address work within his scheme of moral virtues, and why, I ask, is this the case? Because he is forming citizens of the polis for their best form of life, and that life largely excludes labor. Described consistently within both the NE and Politics, “the best life, whether separately for an individual or collectively for states, is the life conjoined with virtue furnished with sufficient means for taking part in virtuous actions” (Pol. 7.1.6; cf. NE 10.8.9–10). What the NE intends to facilitate on an individual level, the Politics instills on a communal level, namely, the virtuous life, the greatest good (NE 1.2.4–8), the life of virtue in the polis that entails participation in the tasks of politics and is only available to those considered citizens (Pol. 3.3.1, 6). Citizens of Athens held the right to participate in judicial offices and could consequently exercise virtues in a communal context (Pol. 3.1.8).15 15

On Aristotle’s various definitions of citizenship, including its relation to work, see Curtis Johnson, “Who Is Aristotle’s Citizen?,” Phronesis 29 (1984): 73–90.

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This meant that they could perform only a limited number of occupations. When young and strong, citizens served in the military; when older and wise, they served as judges; and when too old for that, they retired to the priesthood. Citizens did not operate in the two remaining roles – farming and handiwork – since these occupations did not enable the pursuit of virtue. “In the most nobly constituted state,” says Aristotle, “the citizens must not live a mechanic or a mercantile life (for such a life is ignoble and inimical to virtue), nor yet must those who are to be citizens in the best state be tillers of the soil (for leisure is needed both for the development of virtue and for active participation in politics)” (Pol. 7.8.2; cf. 3.3.3). Hence the working class did not share in the honor of the state or advance toward the best life that was a life of virtue. From the perspective of his teleological philosophy, then, Aristotle omits the topic of work from his moral virtues because work, in the forms of farming and handiwork, did not cohere with the virtuous life, which was instead exclusively exercised in the military, court, and clergy. The rubric for exercising virtue in the polis does not mean that citizens did no farming or manufacturing. Aristotle says, “it is not proper for the good man or the man fit for citizenship or the good citizen to learn the tasks of those who are under this form of authority [i.e. employments performed under a master], except for his own private use occasionally (for then it ceases to be a case of the one party being master and the other slave)” (Pol. 3.2.9). There is an exception to the rule that citizens should not participate in a “mercantile life.” The phrase “private use” and parenthetical explanation about masters and slaves are key here and are understood from the standpoint of Athens’ historical situation. Prior to the fourth century BCE, Attica was full of peasant landowners. These men possessed small farms, often less than 25 acres, which they tilled themselves, and owned slaves whom they worked alongside.16 During the fourth century, after the Peloponnesian War, these small farms gave way to larger estates, owned by men whose slaves and hired overseers worked the land. Unlike the peasant who worked alongside his help, the landowner of the fourth century inspected the labor of slaves and hired men and did not participate in the work himself. Exempt from daily labor, except for tasks confined to his own “private use,” the landowner as citizen was then free to participate in the life of the polis.

16

See Claude Mossé, The Ancient World at Work, Ancient Culture and Society, trans. Janet Lloyd (London: Chatto & Windus, 1969), 49, 54.

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Aristotle refers to this freedom from daily labor as “leisure” (ή σχολή), something he also distinguishes from the militaristic and political activities of citizens. “The pursuits of politics and war seem to be unleisured,” he says, and although they “stand out pre-eminent in nobility and grandeur,” they do not best cohere with the attributes of contemplation, which include self-sufficiency, leisuredness, whatever freedom from fatigue is possible, and “all the other attributes of blessedness” that make the activity of the intellect the complete human happiness (NE 10.7.6–7).17 Aristotle idealizes the activity of contemplation that leisure makes possible, but how is that good reconciled with the other “unleisured” goods of political and military service? As evident in his treatment of courage, Aristotle reconciled the ideal and the real, and the same can be said for work. A virtuous life requires politics and war – they are not hopes or dreams but necessities to be labored through –yet that virtuous life ultimately aims for an operation of intellectual contemplation, one free of work, labor, and strain. Real life puts one within less-than-ideal contexts in which to express virtue, but the ideal activity of contemplation is enabled by these contexts and again bridges the real and the ideal. In line with this ideal form of the virtuous life is the value that Aristotle places on independence. For running through his esteem for contemplation, leisure, and freedom from farming and handiwork is the notion of independence from any form of dependence. According to Claude Mossé, It is not the actual activity of work which makes labour despised, but the ties of dependence which it creates between the artisan and the person who uses the product which he manufactures. To build one’s own house, one’s own ship, or to spin and weave the material which is to clothe the members of one’s own household is in no way shameful. But to work for another man, in return for a wage of any kind, is degrading.18

In farming for one’s “private use,” which was in no way dependent upon another, such as a master or overseer, one retained his independence. He remained free from labor and free to participate in the virtue-enabling life of the state. Whilst bound to the necessities of the real, the virtuous life aspired ultimately to the leisured life of contemplation, and that is why

17

18

In other words, for Aristotle leisure was not simply freedom from work or an absence of it. Leisure required some amount of virtue itself and could be cultivated, involving its own appropriate activities. See Jacob T. Snyder, “Leisure in Aristotle’s Political Thought,” Polis 35 (2018): 356–373. Mossé, Ancient World, 27–28. This is not to say that someone needed significant wealth or power (see NE 10.8.9–10).

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Aristotle omits work from his ethics. Because he writes for the citizen who lives or aspires to the best mode of life – the life of virtue – which presupposes a freedom from labor to pursue virtue among the political community.

Work in Proverbs In Proverbs, some of the most frequently addressed moral actions pertain to work.19 Rather than detracting from the life of virtue as work does for Aristotle, in Proverbs diligence is a virtue and brings wealth (10:4), food (12:11), and social prominence (12:24; 22:29). The closest thing to leisure in Proverbs is sloth, which begets not contemplative and political activity but rather poverty (10:4), hunger (19:15), and death (21:25). The moral significance of work is belabored in this way because for many ancient Israelites, life was work, and Proverbial wisdom occurs not within a polis of citizens who were free or becoming free from labor but within an agrarian household dedicated to survival and shalom. Sixty-six to ninety percent of the inhabitants of Iron Age Israel and Judah (1200–587 BCE) lived in agrarian and often rural villages.20 Villagers worked the land, built their own houses, made their own tools and clothing, and cooked their own food, exhibiting, largely, a self-sufficient existence. Some villages were located near urban centers for protection and trade, but many people lived up to 20 miles from the nearest city. While there were exceptions to these generalizations, which are themselves subject to the limits of historical knowledge in the area, life for much of the biblical community was rural and agrarian. Proverbs does contain references that suit an urban context (e.g., 1:20–21; 7:12; 8:15–16; 22:13), but much of its material, especially regarding work, pertains to the rural, agrarian lifestyle: “whoever works his land will be satiated with bread” (12:11a); “the sluggard does not plow in winter” (20:4a); “prepare your work outside and ready it for yourself in the field; afterward build your house” (24:27; see also 10:5; 24:30). Agrarian village work occurred within the context of the “household.” A physical house held nine to thirteen people, including a father and mother, their children, and maybe a grandparent or aunt. The extended

19

20

If calculated based on the verse-count of texts related to moral virtue in Proverbs 10–31, passages related to work make up over 10 percent of the material. For a fuller treatment of work and daily life in this period, see Keefer, “Family.”

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household included the residence of a son and his family, maybe other extended nuclear families, and was known as a “clan” (‫שפחה‬ ׁ ‫)מ‬. Comprised of 50–200 people, this community constituted a village. Unsurprisingly, then, instructions about agrarian work pertained to a son and carried implications for the household. Proverbs 10 begins, “a wise son makes a father glad but a foolish son is a sorrow to his mother” (10:1) and continues, “he who gathers in summer is a prudent son, but he who sleeps in harvest is a son who brings shame” (10:5).21 Proverbs 31:10–31 praises the wife who exercises much of her wisdom in the household context: “the heart of her husband trusts her . . . she rises when it is still night and provides food for her household . . . her children arise and call her blessed, her husband too and he praises her” (31:11a, 15a–b, 28). Agrarian work in the context of a rural household sets the scene for many of the instructions on work in Proverbs. For these communities, a life of leisure or the ancient Near Eastern equivalent of the “political life” was not an option. Work was necessary, and so Proverbs aspires not to produce an elite ideal but to instruct the whole community in an ambitious morality of wise and hard work. A villager may have rested in between the agricultural seasons and during festivals or the Sabbath day, and there were other people who held nonagrarian professions, such as government officials, urban merchants, and wealthy landowners. But Proverbs does not release these people from their labors for the sake of something else; it recognizes these occupational realities and places wisdom within them. It might be objected that such farming communities were illiterate, rendering as moot the notion that they formed a portion of Proverbs’ audience. Indeed, many were illiterate. However, student writing tablets have been discovered in rural areas dating from the eleventh to tenth centuries BCE, and, furthermore, proverbial instruction did not require a written form.22 Many of the sayings from the book of Proverbs are thought to have originated and been employed orally, rendering as pivotal the context of agrarian populations for the extant text.23 21

22

23

Proverbs 10:1 woodenly reads, “sorrow of his mother,” which I take as a mediated genitive referring to the sorrow that a son causes his mother to have. In 10:5, the action of “bringing shame” denoted by the hiphil may refer to the son bringing shame upon himself and his family. See William Dever, The Lives of Ordinary People in Ancient Israel: Where Archaeology and the Bible Intersect (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 229. See Katharine Dell, The Book of Proverbs in Social and Theological Context (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 56–58, also 18–89.

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The different treatments of work in Aristotle and Proverbs can be explained based upon historical and social contexts, and from a conceptual standpoint it seems that Aristotle’s vision of the ideal life of virtue gave him little reason to mention work within his ethics. Like that vision, which represents Aristotle’s teleological philosophy, Proverbs too depends upon a context other than the historical and social, namely, its theological context. When brought within the purview of other parts of the OT, the theology of Proverbs corroborates the value of work as such. Genesis 1–2 portrays God at work – he creates the heavens and the earth; he orders the stars and vegetation; he makes humans in his image; and he then rests from his labor – an image that other ancient Near Eastern societies found repulsive. In the Atra-Hasis epic, for example, gods created human beings to work because the junior divinities complained of the strenuous labor involved in managing the ground (Tablet I). In the biblical account, Adam and Eve are tasked to care for the earth, to “have dominion” over it and to “keep” it, a good and godlike calling according to Gen 1:26–31. Proverbs 8:22–31 also portrays God at work, establishing the skies and the deep, setting a boundary for the waters, and delighting in it with wisdom at his side: “he established the heavens . . . inscribed a circle upon the face of the deep . . . and set a limit for the sea” (vv. 27, 29a).24 The dignity of work within the OT coheres with the value placed upon it by Proverbs, where diligence is a virtue and laziness a vice, bolstering the social and historical contexts with the explanatory contributions of the theological.25 Proverbs admires and encourages the virtue 24

25

That God creates in this passage is uncontroversial. What attracts most debate is the place of Wisdom in this task, whom I see as serving a mediatorial role (see Keefer, Proverbs 1–9). Like Genesis 1–2, Proverbs 8 stresses not only that God creates but that he does so in a good and ordered fashion. “This well-structured creation is portrayed as the work of a master craftsman or architect who carefully orders, secures, makes stable, and arranges the three components of reality [i.e. the earth, the deep, and the heavens]” (Leo Perdue, Wisdom & Creation: The Theology of Wisdom Literature [Nashville: Abingdon, 1994], 91). Conversely, the command found throughout the OT to rest on the Sabbath might account for warnings against laziness in Proverbs, that is, against those who took license to rest too much. The Palestinian Talmud (Y. Berakot 2.7/6) interprets Prov 10:22 as pertaining to the Sabbath, asserting that the saying – “the blessing of the Lord makes rich” – refers to “the blessing of the Sabbath” and that the second colon – “he does not add sorrow with it” – instructs against mourning on the Sabbath. Warnings against laziness, however, appear in Egyptian instructions, suggesting that the relevant instructions in Proverbs may relate more closely to the Egyptian moral tradition than Israel’s Sabbath laws (e.g., Ani 18.13–14; Fox, Proverbs 1–9, 219). Nevertheless, from a canonical perspective, the Sabbath certainly coheres with instructions regarding the value of work and rest in Proverbs.

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of diligence within what Aristotle would consider menial labor, because the ethics of Proverbs envisions a life of virtue not within the polis of citizens, who strive to be free of labor so they can at most contemplate life and at least serve in noble occupations, but envisions virtue within the ancient Near Eastern agrarian household, among a people whose God had dignified work. Such drastically different treatments of work in Proverbs and the NE are also evident in actions of speech.

virtues of speech Speech in Aristotle: Statesmen and Self-Deprecation Of the passages in Proverbs that deal with moral virtues, the greatest proportion pertains to speech. Comparatively, Aristotle gives little attention to human speech in the NE, where two of his briefest sections deal with truthfulness (56 lines) and tact or wit (46 lines). “Truthfulness” and “wit” specifically apply to human speech, the first regarding how truthfully someone speaks about his own merits, and the second regarding the amount of amusement he offers in a conversation. Other than these two moral virtues, human speech is not addressed as an ethical issue in the NE.26 Outside of the NE, Aristotle gives plentiful instruction about how to speak. His Rhetoric deals strictly with issues of human communication, providing a theory and set of instructions for oratory. This work, however, does not treat human speech as ethics. For rhetoric is not a virtue but an “art” (ή τέκνη), one ethically neutral and used to persuade an audience within three contexts: the assembly (ἐκκλησία), the law court, and occasions for public praise and blame (Rhet. 1.1.13–14). Character is said to inform rhetoric, as it inspires trust from a speaker’s audience, but only as long as the speaker’s character “appears” to be (φαίνω) virtuous (Rhet. 2.1.7). In short, although rhetoric incorporates moral virtues, it constitutes a technical art form, not an excellence of character for good living, and consequently will not supplement the material regarding speech in the NE. I contend that Aristotle spends little time talking about human speech in the NE and focuses on alternative forms of human communication 26

These virtues do join “friendliness/agreeableness” (φιλία; NE 4.6; cf. 2.7.13) to form a trio of virtues that pertain to social life. While the notion of friendliness concerns social acquiescence and disapproval, it gives no indication that it primarily informs speech.

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133

elsewhere because the audience of his NE are “statesmen” (ὁ πολιτικὸς) and at a certain level of moral maturity, training to legislate in a way that will cultivate virtuous citizens. Four statements in the first book of the NE confirm that Aristotle intends to educate these men. First, he situates his ethics as a study with a political aim, securing the good of individuals as well as “the good of a nation or a state . . . This then being its aim, our investigation is in a sense the study of politics” (NE 1.2.8). By means of the NE, Aristotle intends to secure the good of individuals and the polis and in this sense conducts politics. Second, he says that “the principal care” of political science “is to produce a certain character in the citizens, namely to make them virtuous, and capable of performing noble actions” (NE 1.9.8), suggesting that Aristotle’s audience includes those men with the potential to fulfill such a goal. Third, “the true statesman seems to be one who has made a special study of goodness, since his aim is to make the citizens good and law-abiding men” (NE 1.13.2; cf. Pol. 5.7.14). The statesman needs education about the good, i.e. ethics, in order to fulfill the aim of political science and create virtuous citizens. These statesmen exclude the young, those youthful in age or in character and prone to follow their feelings rather than reason (NE 1.3.6–7). As Harold Joachim writes, In both Ethics and Politics Aristotle is speaking in the character of the ideal statesman (πολιτικός), or lawgiver, and thinking of citizens (πολιται). His object is to train statesmen who shall regulate the life of their city so that it may be the best life; in other words, his aim is to secure the well-conducted life (εὐπραξία) for the citizens of a Greek city.27

Therefore, the moral virtues that Aristotle expounds in the NE should cohere with the role of the statesman – the book’s primary audience – and contribute to this citizen’s political goals, as Aristotle envisions them. Such an audience explains the length and detail of instructions in the Rhetoric, as a statesman would need public speaking skills for the assembly (ἐκκλησία), where 6,000 members gathered four times a month, and for the law court, where citizens served as judges and continually revised

27

H. H. Joachim, The Nicomachean Ethics: A Commentary, ed. D. A. Rees (Oxford: Clarendon, 1951), 17–18. For additional support, see Richard Bodéüs, Le philosophe et la Cité: Recherches sur les rapports entre morale et politique dans la pensée d’Aristote (Liége: Liége University Press, 1983), 123–125; P. A. Vander Waerdt, “The Plan and the Intention of Aristotle’s Ethical and Political Writings,” Illinois Classical Studies 16 (1991): 233–235.

134

Courage, Work, Speech, and Friendship

the Athenian legal system, and for other public arenas of oratory.28 In the same way that its history of thought and the necessities of warfare for citizens explained Aristotle’s treatment of courage, so the regular situations in which the statesman functioned suit the attention that Aristotle gives to rhetoric. His teaching complements the statesman’s role in society. With this line of reasoning, how are the instructions about speech within the NE best explained? It is difficult to answer this question with certainty, but there are three plausible reasons for why Aristotle included speech instructions to the extent that he did. First, it is likely that Aristotle’s audience has already experienced a good upbringing and thereby learned the appropriate vocal conventions. To this, Joachim may offer an objection. He argues that Aristotle addressed the moral virtues within the NE in an order that is based on how susceptible humans are to certain vices.29 The bodily appetites tempt most severely, and so courage and self-control appear first on the list, the next (e.g., money) are more human, the next (e.g., honor) pertain to civic persons, and finally those, what Joachim calls, “highly refined and spiritualized pleasures and pains – the pleasures of social intercourse, intellectual conversation, etc.” are addressed.30 These matters of socializing, least tempting for humans and therefore treated last by Aristotle, include the virtues of truthfulness and wit, and while I agree that they reveal “culture, breeding, [and] tact,” it is not clear what Joachim means by “highly refined” or “spiritualized” and no explanation is offered as to why these virtues receive so little exposition. It could be inferred that Joachim’s theory about the sequence of virtues applies also to the length of their treatment in the NE so that those treated last are also treated least. But the greatest problem for Joachim’s argument, which explains the order and volume of the moral virtues based on the level of human susceptibility, is the exclusion of the youthful passion-followers from Aristotle’s student body (NE 1.3.6–7). Such a youthful audience would be more suitable for Joachim’s model of temptation. Moreover, by reserving the “civic” person for the third category of temptations (i.e. honors), Joachim seems to assume that the other categories could pertain to noncivic and therefore non-citizen members, as if Aristotle orders his virtues based on an anthropology that may not include polis members rather than an anthropology that accords with his audience of citizens, all of 28

29

On the rights and duties of free speech, which was unprotected by Athenian law, see Liddel, Civic Obligation, 24–28. 30 Joachim, Aristotle, 115. Joachim, Aristotle, 115.

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whom would be “civic people.” An audience of statesmen, while tempted by bodily appetites, prompts a revision of Joachim’s susceptibility thesis and offers an alternative explanation for Aristotle’s treatment of moral virtues. Though critical of Joachim’s theory, I propose another that may yet cohere with his. Again, Aristotle’s audience has most likely already experienced a good upbringing, given his remark that “in order to be a competent student of the Right and Just, and in short of the topics of politics in general, the pupil is bound to have been well trained in his habits” (NE 1.4.6). The right student has a good foundation for education, habits trained by authority that plausibly include instruction in good speaking, and he is more likely to attain the status of the “gentleman” or “civilized person” (ἐλευθέριος), referred to throughout the discussion on wit, who operates as the standard for tasteful speech (4.8.5–7) and contrasts with servile humans likened to beasts (3.10.8; cf. Pol. 5.7.8).31 That person of tasteful speech is also denoted by another term: ὁ χαρίεις, translated as a “person of taste and cultivation” or “cultivated gentleman,” which elsewhere refers to those who view honor and virtue as the great good and end of politics (NE 1.5.4). It may indicate a wealthy class of the population in contrast to the masses (Pol. 2.4.7; 6.3.5), but in Politics 4.10.9 it seems to refer more clearly to “(wealthy) gentlemen”: “for it does not always happen that those who are in the governing class are χαρίεντας” (Pol. 4.10.9). The person with the moral virtue of wit is well-bred in social propriety, an education that coheres with the starting point of Aristotle’s students, who have habits gained through good upbringing. His audience, therefore, likely already possessed virtues of speech, which Aristotle articulates in order to identify and provide further training in first principles.32 Second, looking not at the upbringing of Athenian statesman but toward their present function, we can say that the conversational virtues of NE 4.7–8 were not their priority. As explained before, their duties entailed addressing public audiences, for the aim of crafting a polis that would incubate a virtuous population, and so required education in rhetorical arts rather than everyday conversation. Learning to persuade and to navigate notions of justice and friendship surpassed the

31

32

On the translations of ἐλευθέριος, see, respectively, Broadie (Aristotle, 157; using Rowe’s translation) and Rackham (Loeb). See Joachim (Aristotle, 27) on first principles.

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importance of wit and sincerity about oneself, being priorities for the political life of a statesman. The third reason why Aristotle treats speech as he does in the NE may be due to his intellectual tradition. He was writing within a history of moral inquiry that was occupied with a particular vice – self-deprecation (ἡ εἰρωνεία; “irony”) – which Aristotle broaches, perhaps, to reexamine. His attempt to revise is evident in his discussion of its corresponding virtue – truthfulness – where he attributes “irony” with positive characteristics rather than solely negative ones. The vice of irony was most famously associated with Socrates, evident in the scene where Thrasymachus “gave a great guffaw and laughed sardonically and said, ‘Ye gods! here we have the well-known irony of Socrates, and I knew it and predicted that when it came to replying you would refuse and dissemble and do anything rather than answer any question that anyone asked you’” (Plato, Rep. 337).33 Socrates was known to conceal information that he likely possessed, an action his accusers called “irony” and of which they disapproved. He is also mentioned in Aristotle’s discussion of irony in the NE, which is notable because it marks one of five references to this predecessor, three of which critique Socratic doctrine (NE 3.8.6; 6.13.3; 7.2.1) and one that agrees with it (NE 7.3.13). Only in the instance of irony (4.7.14) does Aristotle appeal to the life of Socrates rather his philosophical doctrine, and furthermore to approve of it. Of the two vices related to truth-telling – self-deprecation and false humility – Socrates joins the former, the “self-deprecators” (οἱ εἴρωνες), “who understate their own merits” and “seem of a more refined character, for we feel that the motive underlying this form of insincerity is not gain but dislike of ostentation” (NE 4.7.14). They downplay the truth about themselves and “mostly disown qualities held in high esteem, as Socrates used to do.” Socrates was guilty of self-deprecation and yet that is far more preferable than those who downplay trifling qualities or express a false humility, like the Spartans who attract attention through understated dress. Aristotle could have identified Socrates with either of these vicious groups – those who understate unimportant qualities or express false humility – but instead praises him as one who downplays qualities of high esteem, exercising a “moderate use of self-deprecation” (4.7.16).34 The same is praised in the great-souled man, who is normally 33 34

Translation by Paul Shorey. So Gorg. 489e; cf. Aristophanes, Clouds 449. P. W. Gooch, “Socratic Irony and Aristotle’s ‘Eiron’: Some Puzzles,” Phoenix 41 (1987): 103.

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“outspoken and frank” except when speaking to the common people with whom he uses “ironical self-depreciation” (NE 4.3.28). Socrates functions as a paradigm for the lesser of two vices and exhibits a positive use of irony,35 and it is the infamy of that ironic speech and behavior, and the distinctiveness of Aristotle’s reference to him in NE 4.7 that suggest that Aristotle may have included the moral virtue of “true” speech in order to revise the prevailing negative view of “irony.”36 To summarize, Aristotle treats the ethics of human conversation, particularly “truthfulness” and “wit,” briefly because he was likely addressing an audience who already possessed these virtuous forms of speech and, in comparison to rhetorical skill, did not employ them in their role as statesmen. In addition to these reasons, Aristotle includes a brief discussion on speech in order to revise the traditional view of “irony” or self-deprecation, a trait negatively attributed to Socrates, according to Plato, and positively nuanced by Aristotle. This argument is not intended to devalue these virtues of speech or to assume that the relatively brief treatment of them makes them less important. As Paula Gottlieb says, “The nameless virtues are just as important as their named companions, not only because they relate to important aspects of human activity, but also because they are necessary for any human community to exist as a community. They provide necessary conditions for a human community to flourish and are part of that flourishing itself.”37 The communal necessity of wit and truthfulness does in part answer the question of this section, given that Aristotle finds relaxation and amusement a necessary part of life (NE 4.8). But the necessity of these virtues for a community to flourish does not, I have argued, offer the best or the most comprehensive explanation for their treatment in the NE. It is rather the book’s audience, their function and background, and Aristotle’s intellectual tradition that most plausibly explain why he includes certain actions of speech and why he considers them so succinctly.

35

36 37

Such a positive example of irony is paralleled elsewhere only by Alcibiades, who defends Socrates’ deprecation of esteemed values and praises his ironic way of speaking (Plato, Symp. 216d–e). On the influence of Aristotle’s revision, see Gooch, “Socratic,” 103 n. 16. Paula Gottlieb, “Aristotle’s Nameless Virtues,” Apeiron 27 (2014): 13. There are some grounds to argue, as John Lombardini (“Civic Laughter: Aristotle and the Political Virtue of Humor,” Political Theory 41 [2013]: 203–230, esp. 209–213) does, that the three virtues discussed in NE 4.6–8 generate and sustain a political community of equality or of “reciprocal relationship,” since friendliness and wit deal with social pleasures and pains (4.8.12), and the vices related to truth might disrupt this political order.

138

Courage, Work, Speech, and Friendship Speech in Proverbs

Having explained the modest attention given to the moral virtues of speech in the NE, the task remains to determine why so much focus lands on verbal virtues in Proverbs. Of the passages in Proverbs dealing with moral virtues, a majority of these pertain to speech, a predominance of proverbs regarding how and why humans speak that can be explained by considering the moral vision of the Israelite community as well as two particular contexts in which speech played a central role.38 As for its moral vision, ancient Israel aimed not only for survival, as indicated by the agricultural lifestyle depicted above, it also aimed for communal health. The familial composition of a village depended on every member for well-being, as men built structures, repaired tools, and cultivated food to feed the entire household, and women crafted clothes and pottery, and prepared food on a daily basis, except for peak harvest times in which every hand worked the fields.39 People belonging to a single household lived in close quarters, sharing bedrooms and communing in a common area, and they upon leaving these confines they would have soon encountered neighbors, whose homes collectively formed a village. With such communal dependence and exposure, the abundance of OT laws regarding care for the property and lives of the community (e.g., Deut 22:1–4) comes as no surprise.40 These overall aims for corporate health make sense of the material in Proverbs so concerned with the harmful effects of speech: “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (15:1); “The heart of the righteous ponders how to answer, but the mouth of the wicked pours out evils” (15:28).41 The daily routine of close quarters and communal living depended on the thoughtfulness of words and the kindness of a neighbor’s voice. If we were to conjure them, examples would proliferate in this scenario, such as marital conflict, working with others in the harvest season, trading goods with neighbors, or greeting a foreign traveler, all of which bring the possibilities of verbal wrongdoing to life. As an 38

39 40

41

If calculated based upon a verse-count of Proverbs 10–31’s moral virtue texts, proverbs on speech make up over 18 percent of the material. See Keefer, “Family.” The holiness of the people is also envisioned, binding the health of the group to laws and to its members’ imitation of the Lord (Lev 19:9–18). Although the people’s holiness is not prominently observed in Proverbs, this concept perforates the book’s moral fabric with references to the Lord as “the Holy one” (Prov 9:10; 30:3) and becomes a possible aim in view of efforts to align wisdom with imitatio Dei (see Chapter 6). On the interpretation of these proverbs, see the discussion in Chapter 3.

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antidote to some of the imaged, problematic situations, the wife who is excellent within her household and community “opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is upon her tongue” (31:26).42 Speech, being capable of great good or great evil, was integral for creating and maintaining a healthy community. The everyday aims of ancient Israelites account for some of the material in Proverbs, but these aims do not account for other substantial portions of instructions about speech, such as those about “wise” and “knowledgeable” words or “true” and “false witnesses.” These ways of speaking probably contributed to the community’s health, but they also suggest additional shades and details of contexts not yet discussed, namely Israel’s judicial system and the nation’s scribal and court cultures. In pre-monarchical Israel, the judicial system functioned through the patriarch of a household and community elders. Hence, in Genesis, Abraham and Judah make critical and authoritative decisions (16:6; 21:25; 24:1–9; 38:24–26), and Moses appoints leaders to judge disputes between the people (Exod 18:18–26; cf. Deut 16:18).43 According to Carole Fontaine, “The settling of disputes seems to figure most heavily in the role expectations of the elder, and this behavior is one of those most frequently emphasized in the elder’s role set.”44 Elders adjudicated on interpersonal conflicts and they did so in the court, and given these connections it seems that dispute was one of the primary problems resolved by Israel’s judicial system. Pietro Bovati has distinguished two forms of dispute within judicial remit: the two-party controversy and the formal law court.45 In the first, the wronged person accuses the wrongdoer, who then responds in one of 42

43

44

45

The ‫“( תורת חסד‬teaching of kindness”) may refer to teaching characterized by kindness or to teaching that begets kindness, but the latter is unnatural, especially if that teaching is “on her tongue” and she clearly speaks with wisdom in colon A, all of which points to kindness being a characteristic of her speech (cf. Prov 31:6–9). A lexicon of such roles includes the ‫שרים‬ ׂ (“princes/officials”), ‫שפט‬ ׁ (“judge”), ‫שטר‬ ׁ (“officer”), ‫ש‬ ׁ ‫“( רא‬head”), priests, and Levites (Tikva Frymer-Kenski, “Anatolia and the Levant: Israel,” in A History of Ancient Near Eastern Law, ed. Raymond Westbrook [Leiden: Brill, 2003], 2:986–990). Carole R. Fontaine, “The Sage in Family and Tribe,” in The Sage in Ancient Israel and the Ancient Near East, ed. John G. Gammie and Leo G. Perdue (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 164. See Pietro Bovati, Re-Establishing Justice: Legal Terms, Concepts and Procedures in the Hebrew Bible, JSOTSupp 105, trans. Michael J. Smith (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994), passim. See also B. Gemser, “The rîb-Controversy-pattern in Hebrew Mentality,” in Wisdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East, ed. M. Noth and D. Winton Thomas (Leiden: Brill, 1955), 120–137.

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two ways. If he confesses guilt, the injured party might pardon and establish reconciliation; if he claims innocence, the injured party might drop the accusation and, again, establish reconciliation. When the accuser refuses to pardon the wrongdoer or rejects the claim of innocence, the case goes before a judge who decides the matter. The “two-party controversy” outlined here occurred in private and its participants held much of the power in dispute and resolution. In contrast to the two-party controversy, the law court occurred publicly, as at the gate of a city, and when inaugurated involved the judge, the accuser, and the accused (1 Sam 22:7–15; 1 Kgs 3:16–28; Jer 26:7–16). During the debate phase, an appeal is made, followed by a defense and the testimony of witnesses. As the “most important and problematic” part of the process, this debate rides on the verbal testimony of all parties involved.46 The judge then proclaims a sentence, which often involved severe consequences, such as forcing a man to marry the virgin he has slept with (Deut 22:28–29) or putting thieves to death (Deut 24:7). The point to be noticed here is that from their inauguration to resolution, both types of judicial dispute – the two-party controversy and the formal law court – relied upon the verbal testimony of their participants. Regarding even the private controversy between two people, Bovati claims, The individual making the accusation is indeed convinced that his speech brings to bear all the reasons that lie behind his accusation, and the consequences that follow from them; but when this internal awareness takes the form of words it demands to be listened to.47

In the judicial systems of ancient Israel, right decisions, life and death, and much more depended upon the words of those involved. Certain instructions about speech in Proverbs explicitly pertain to the judiciary context. An exemplary case, Prov 25:7c–10, features both types of dispute: What your eyes have seen, do not hastily bring into court,48

46 47

48

Bovati, Justice, 344. Bovati, Justice, 72. He calls the ‫“( ריב‬dispute”) “a dialogue,” saying that such controversy appears in biblical narratives with a “verbal clash between the two parties involved” (e.g., Gen 31:26–44; 1 Kgs 3:16–28; Job 9:14–16; 13:22). He also points to passages that collocate ‫ ריב‬with ‫( אמר‬Gen 26:20; 31:36; Exod 17:2; Num 20:3; Judg 8:1; Isa 45:9). “Bringing to ‫ ”ריב‬here (I follow the hiphil pointing of most commentators for ‫ )יצא‬means to inaugurate a judicial proceeding (cf. Judg 21:22), supported by other judiciary uses of the lexeme in Proverbs (18:17; 22:23; 23:11), in contrast to non-judicial, interpersonal

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else, what will you do in the end, when your neighbor humiliates you? Argue your case with your neighbor and do not reveal another’s secret. Lest he who hears reproach you, and your bad reputation never turn back.

The passage admonishes its reader to keep conflicts within the private sphere, seeking resolution with a neighbor rather than creating a public trial and consequently risking the shame that accompanies a mistaken accusation. Instead of “hastily bringing [your eyewitness accusation] into court,” argue privately with your neighbor. The statements – “what your eyes have seen” and “do not reveal another’s secret, lest he who hears reproach you” – highlight the importance of verbal testimony, whilst the argument and reconciliation that should be sought underline the attitudes of the participants. A number of other proverbs, less specific in their portrayal, represent the book’s instruction concerning the court context:49 A faithful witness does not lie, but a false witness breathes out lies. (14:5; also 14:25) Justifying the wicked and condemning the righteous are an abomination to the Lord, both of them. (17:15) Partiality in judgment is not good. Whoever says to the wicked, “You are righteous,”50 peoples will curse him and nations abhor him. (24:23b–25)

Aspects of these sayings appear banal, particularly the depictions of true and false witnesses who, of course, respectively refrain from lying and lie excessively. However, in a trial, so much of the debate depended on the testimony of the witnesses that to state, “A faithful witness does not lie,

49

50

disputes, often with 20:3 ;17:14 ;15:18) ‫)מדון‬. Omitting v. 7c (Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 781) is not necessary, though does not neutralize my interpretation. Fox’s non-judiciary interpretation of v. 8a does not accord with the risk of humiliation (not “insult”; cf. Prov 18:13) in v. 8c or the admonition to engage in private dispute (v. 9). Bühlmann (Vom Rechten Reden) deals with these texts but does not explain the significance of social contexts for their interpretation. See, e.g., Prov 12:17 (94–95; cf. 18–19) or 25:7c–10 (249–250). The king also functioned as judge (2 Sam 8:15; Jer 22:15–16); see Moshe Weinfeld, Social Justice in Ancient Israel and the Ancient Near East (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), esp. 45–74. By presupposing a judicial background for this saying, it can be translated as declaring the “guilty” person “innocent.”

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but a false witness breathes out lies” (14:5), was not banal but critical. The future, the life, and the reputation of individuals and families depended on the words of a witness. Another saying presumes that “there is a dispute between men and they come into court, and the judges decide between them and justify the righteous and condemn the wicked,” as they should (17:15).51 The scenario is implied and becomes loaded with a theological proviso: “Justifying the wicked and condemning the righteous are an abomination to the Lord, both of them.” The Lord would have abhorred any amount of partiality, a warning that carried weight for the judge and any who testified for or against someone under accusation. Reflecting a similar intent, Prov 24:23b–25 gives special attention to the judge himself, asserting that “partiality in judgment is not good.” Proverbs 17:15 and 24:23b–25 complement other passages about true and false witnesses (14:5, 25) by incorporating the arbitrator and making verbal action a theological issue. To summarize the biblical evidence thus far, the quality of daily life and the resolution of conflict, plus judicial decisions that bore great consequences, relied upon human words. Moreover, there is no indication that the “witnesses” were a special group; they instead included anyone who could attest to a crime (Num 35:30; cf. Ruth 4:9–11), for the command about witnesses targeted all Israel (Exod 20:16; Deut 5:20). God, as evident from comments like Prov 17:15, played a determinative role in Israel’s court system. Throughout the OT, God dictated laws to his representatives and in Proverbs he serves as the all-seeing evaluator of legal verdicts, which contrasts starkly with the Greek system. Describing the role of divinity within Greek courts, Victor Bers and Adriaan Lanni have concluded that “In legal practice, as in Greek literature, judging seems to have been perceived as almost entirely human, not a divine endeavor.”52 The gods may have been concerned with forms of justice but were not regarded as qualified legal judges, meaning that the Athenian judicial procedure, whilst similar to Israel’s in many respects, differed significantly in its absence of divine intervention.53 It is quite 51 52

53

This very situation appears in Deut 25:1–3. Victor Bers and Andriaan Lanni, “Disqualified Olympians: The Skeptical Greek View of Divine Judges,” in The Divine Courtroom in Comparative Perspective, ed. A. Mermelstein and S. Holtz (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 142, see 139–142. Bers and Lanni suggest that Aristotle omits the gods from legal activity because his gods have no need for practical wisdom, which was central to legal judgment (114 n. 40). Also, witnesses most likely played a less significant role in Greek courts than they did in Israel. Greek litigants largely represented themselves in court and presented a legal case

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possible that such absence was due to the fact that the Greeks saw their gods as immortal or remote from practical matters and therefore as unconcerned with the judicial affairs that were so serious and urgent to human beings.54 Nevertheless, the contrast of Greek gods with the Lord of Proverbs glares. For within Proverbs the Lord determines the standard of judgment and proffers the wisdom necessary for it, even displaying direct involvement in the judicial procedure as attested to elsewhere in the OT (Prov 22:23; cf. Exod 17:2; Deut 17:8–13; Psalm 43; Num 35:30, 34). Proverbs remains consistent with God’s proximity to creation as seen throughout the OT, since he is, at the least, concerned with the moral affairs and the legal activity of humans (e.g., Prov 3:32–35; 6:16–19; 12:22; 20:10; 28:5). The nature of the judicial context in ancient Israel begins to explain the thorough treatment of human speech in Proverbs and its distinction from Aristotle’s NE. The remaining material on Proverbial speech is made sensible thanks to the royal court in Israel. The idea that Proverbs aided in the training of young men for service within royal administration is bound up with the search for scribal or court contexts in ancient Israel and is actively debated, with some favoring the “courtly nature” of Proverbs and others limiting its links to court or school systems.55 When attending to the evidence in Proverbs itself, James Crenshaw has rightly concluded that, “subject matter alone offers a dubious criterion for determining the social setting of a given aphorism.”56 A reference to “the king” in Proverbs does not necessarily mean that the text originated in a royal context or that it functioned in a formal educational capacity. References to the king only necessitate familiarity with the idea of kingship, which many members of the population plausibly possessed. In the same way, proverbs that mention

54 55

56

before the jury, which lacked a professional judge to direct their verdict or arbitrate the case (Lanni, Law and Justice, 31–40, esp. 37). On the malleability of law and the role of the juror, see also Liddel, Civic Obligation, 130–132. Bers and Lanni, “Disqualified,” 143–144. See, e.g., Ansberry, My Son, and Make My Heart Glad: An Exploration of the Courtly Nature of the Book of Proverbs, BZAW 422 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2011); André Lemaire, “Levantine Literacy ca. 1000–750 BCE,” in Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, AIL 22, ed. B. Schmidt (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 11–45; Stuart Weeks, Early Israelite Wisdom, Oxford Theological Monographs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 41–56; R. N. Whybray, “The Sage in the Israelite Royal Court,” in Gammie, The Sage, 133–139; Dell, Proverbs, 18–89. James L. Crenshaw, “The Sage in Proverbs,” in Gammie, The Sage, 215. According to Weeks (Early Israelite Wisdom, 117) the OT does not provide enough evidence for a “scribal culture” in Israel or an explicit link to Egyptian phenomena.

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agricultural realities, such as farming and harvest, do not require participation in that lifestyle, even though, as I argued, this context predominates in Proverbs and offers a plausible explanation for where the proverbs functioned, backed by strong evidence for such a life setting throughout the Iron Age. The debate about scribes and courts in Proverbs is often entered by way of particular lexemes, such as ‫“( ספר‬scribe”) and ‫“( חכמים‬wise men”), and the more certain practices of Mesopotamia and Egypt, which did train officials in educational contexts.57 My interest lies not so much in establishing the reality or practices of a “scribal culture” in Israel but more so in the textual evidence of the OT that offers a plausible explanation for the passages about speech in Proverbs. This does require attention to the “scribe” and yet it also prompts an expansion in the scope of terminology to be assessed, which will show that roles widespread in the OT, particularly the “counselor” and “messenger,” suit the material of Proverbs. The first contender is that of the scribe, who in 2 Kings 22 handles finances and takes responsibility for others exchanging money and for correspondence between leaders (v. 9). The scribe reads (vv. 8, 10) and, with a small envoy of men, consults a prophetess (vv. 12–14; cf. 2 Chron 34:8–28). Elsewhere, scribes read and write (Ps 45:1[2]; Jer 36:4, 26, 32; 1 Chron 24:6) and in later texts assume conciliatory and priestly roles (Ezra 7; Nehemiah 8), as the Chronicler describes Jonathan, David’s uncle, as “a counselor . . . a man of understanding, a scribe [‫( ”]ספר‬1 Chron 27:32). Scribes clearly functioned as practical assistants with specific skill-sets and at times with large responsibilities, but they did not necessarily possess or require special skills in speech or intellect, as if they orated eloquent speeches or verbally mediated between rival parties.58 Therefore the scribe is a possible but not an ideal candidate for Proverbial instructions about speech. The ‫“( יועץ‬counselor”) receives more attention in the OT and coheres more closely with instructions about speech in Proverbs. In 2 Sam 15:12–37 David’s counselor Ahithophel conspires with Absalom, and when David discovers this he entrusts another man, Hushai, with

57 58

See Ansberry (Be Wise, 37–39) and references there. In his warranted effort to argue against attempts to base the ‫ ספר‬on an Egyptian model, Weeks (Early Israelite Wisdom, 117) seems to confine the scribe’s biblical role to “controlling money, acting as a royal delegate, and discussing matters of import with other officials.” If looking beyond 2 Kings 22, the scribe can be said to do more than that.

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correspondence. Seeming to stand in Ahithophel’s place, Hushai must tell the priests and David himself “every word [he] hears” (vv. 35, 37). The remainder of the narrative underscores what Ahithophel “says” or “speaks” and the quality of it, lending attention to this man known as a “counselor” and to his words (16:20–17:7; so 1 Kgs 12:6–11). The “counselor” was probably an official role in Israel, since it is mentioned alongside other offices such as “judges,” “prophets,” “priests,” “kings,” and “princes” (Job 3:14; 12:17; Isa 1:26; 3:2–3; Ezek 7:26; cf. Isa 19:11), and its connection with speech is fortified more than once. Even if mentioning the “counselor” in an unofficial capacity, Isa 41:28 describes him as one who “gives an answer.”59 In Job 29:21–25, Job especially recalls the verbal power and intellectual respect that adjoined his conciliatory activity: “They listened to me and waited and were silent for my counsel [‫ ;]עצתי‬after my word they did not [speak] again, and my speech dropped upon them” (29:21–22). The verbal and monarchical connections associated with the counselor elsewhere in the OT proffer a context for certain sayings in Proverbs: “Righteous lips are the delight of kings, and he loves the one who speaks upright things” (Prov 16:13; also 22:11); “By patience a ruler will be enticed, and a tender tongue will break a bone” (25:15).60 Most any counselor would benefit from speaking “upright things” in the king’s presence, or using words in a way to gain the king’s favor or persuade him. While integrating human speech and the monarchical context, this evidence from Proverbs does not refer to “counsel” or the “counselor” specifically, and although direct references to counsel in Proverbs may not necessarily entail a monarchical context, they do entail verbal counsel and mention of war (20:18; 24:6), which, along with more generalized sayings about supplying guidance, safety, and successful plans (11:14; 15:22), may very well involve the OT contexts mentioned above.61 L. Ruppert says that the “counselor” is not an official role in Proverbs, arguing that “it is hard to imagine that in a specific case a private individual

59

60 61

H.-P. Stähli (“‫ יעץ‬yʿs to advise,” TLOT 2:556–559) claims that ‫ יועץ‬appears as a “proper, official title only in _later texts” (i.e. Ezra; cf. Esther). The lexeme for “ruler” (‫ )קצין‬often refers to military leadership. For sayings like 11:14, Whybray (Proverbs, 181) argues against intimate links with “royal circles” since “its point would be so self-evident to members of those circles as to be entirely superfluous.” But the obviousness of a proverb’s message is a doubtful criterion for its context, and these sayings often urge their readers, with all clarity, towards right action rather than disclosing obscure insights. See, for instance, the judicial proverbs above.

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(cf. Prov. 24:6!) could have had recourse to ‘an abundance’ of sages as counselors.”62 But that seems to assume that “without guidance a people will fall, and in an abundance of counselors is deliverance” has an average individual in view, as if “a private individual” did have access to a body of counsel. However, it need not be a private individual, and the saying actually supports a royal context, especially considering the two references that explicitly mention “counsel” in the context of war. An individual leader, not an average farmer, would conduct “war” and thereby need access to counsel and most likely have it, given his station, which gives no reason to doubt the official status of this role.63 The counselor, as he functions in biblical texts with a verbal role and sometimes great responsibility, may explain the presence of certain “courtly” references in Proverbs, namely those that deal with human speech. Those sayings seem quite apt for someone trained or training to counsel. A final reason that Proverbs includes instructions about speech relates to the role of the ‫“( מלאך‬messenger”). A messenger brought messages on behalf of someone, often a leader or employer who was represented quite strictly, and sometimes maintained ongoing correspondence. R. Ficker says, “an affront to the malʾa¯kîm is an affront to the employer (1 Sam 25:14ff.)” and that the “employer can also be held accountable for the actions of his malʾa¯kîm (2 Kgs 19:23).”64 While often endowed with great responsibility, messengers are not described in terms of their coherent set of roles within the Bible but rather presented in terms of their function and quality, a good one being reliable and swift.65 The “envoy”

62 63 64

65

L. Ruppert, “‫ ָיעַץ‬ya¯‘as,” TDOT 6:161. He says Ahithophel is the first “official” ‫( יועץ‬92). The term for “war” (_‫)מלחמה‬, as far as I am aware, never refers to a metaphorical battle. R. Ficker, “‫ מלאך‬malʾa¯k messenger,” TLOT 2:666–672. The messenger–sender interdependence is evident in two phenomena: the fact that messengers were liable to interrogation by their receivers and expected to respond, and the volatility of responses to the messenger’s news. On this and for an extensive treatment of the messenger in the ancient Semitic world, see Samuel Meier, The Messenger in the Ancient Semitic World, HSM 45 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988), esp. 203–245. According to him, “The messenger was not simply a liaison for extended economic transactions in an urban and cosmopolitan setting, for he was a vehicle for the perpetuation of human values in what could be an increasingly impersonal world of expanding dimensions . . . the messenger’s humanity and personal involvement in his task enhanced his role as a mediator of human relationships in a society which could easily subvert such relationships” (36). Meier (The Messenger) concludes that the primary expectations for a messenger were his truthfulness and speed, and after that his ability to articulate. The book of Proverbs forms little part of Meier’s study and yet his survey of Semitic sources, especially biblical narrative, and Ugaritic and Akkadian sources, seems consistent with Proverbs. The

Summary

147

(‫ )ציר‬in Proverbs functions like a messenger (Prov 13:17; 25:13), and for some interpreters supports “the interpretation of the mal’a¯k as a high official of royal status.”66 Messengers did aid royal persons, and the counselors and scribes mentioned above sometimes operated as messengers, but the occurrences of “messenger” and “envoy” do not indicate a high office or royal status and sometimes appear in pre-monarchical periods (Gen 36:3–6; Judg 7:24; 1 Sam 16:19). Messengers may have held such prominence, but it is not clear, and Proverbs indicates only that they worked for a master (Prov 25:13). Aside from issues of official status, what does warrant attention in Proverbs is the messenger’s verbal role and the importance of his spoken accuracy and reliability: “A wicked messenger falls into ruin, but a faithful envoy is healing” (13:17); “The one who sends words by the hand of a fool cuts off feet and drinks violence” (26:6; see also 17:11; 25:13). The not uncommon role of messenger in ancient Israel likely accounts for the presence of such sayings in the book of Proverbs. A messenger depended on speech, especially its reliability and accuracy, while the counselor also required knowledgeable words to successfully carry out his tasks. These figures predominate in the OT and join the agricultural and judicial contexts to offer the most plausible explanation for certain texts related to speech in Proverbs.67

summary This section began with a comparison of the relatively brief attention that Aristotle gives to human speech in his material on moral virtue and the relatively large amount of evidence in Proverbs related to the topic. The reason for this disparity appears in the sociohistorical contexts of both texts and the particular interests of the authors. Aristotle addressed “statesmen” who already had training in spoken intercourse and needed more formal education in the distinct art of rhetoric, which occupies his Rhetoric rather than NE. The discussion of speech, particularly truthtelling, in the NE also arises as a response to other Greek moral traditions and their views of Socratic “irony.” Conversely, Proverbs features instruction on human speech because of its audience, which seems to

66 67

biblical evidence points overwhelmingly to the oral nature of the messenger’s communication, as opposed to the transmission of written documents (37–42). Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 568 n. 97. He cites Isa 18:2; 57:2; Jer 49:19 and Obadiah 1. Messengers may have played a role in judicial affairs, but the primary reasons for sending them do not seem to include the court (see Meier, The Messenger, 30–36).

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include average agriculturally based Israelites and also those engaged as counselors and messengers, which may have entailed a “courtly” context. The importance of human speech in the varied judicial procedures depicted in the OT also explains certain passages in Proverbs. Though unexplored in detail here, the influence of Proverbs’ intellectual environment makes instructions about speech unsurprising. Egyptian instructions exhibit an ardent concern with the issue, and Proverbs was produced within that stream of thought, which forwards the historical-intellectual context as another possible explanation for the difference in speech’s prominence within the NE and Proverbs.68 Human speech has been one of four points of comparison in this chapter and the preceding, joining honor/shame, courage, and work as a matter of moral virtue that warrants a closer examination. By first delineating them and others as Aristotelian virtues in Proverbs one large stride was made toward establishing the book as a moral tradition. But a further stride or two has been taken by exploring the historical, social, and theological underpinnings of these select virtues, which has revealed much more about that tradition than could have otherwise been seen. Having compared the treatment of honor/shame, courage, work, and speech as topics of moral virtue in Proverbs and the NE with recourse to a variety of contexts, a final and outlying idea remains.

interpersonal associations in proverbs and aristotelian friendship Certain proverbs are not explained within the Aristotelian scheme of moral virtue, including a substantial number that mention interpersonal associations. Unaccounted for by the criteria of vicious extremes and a mean-state, these associative proverbs fall within the realm of moral absolutes: walk with the wise, avoid the wrathful, help friends in times of need.69 Aristotle and Proverbs condemn several activities outright, like adultery and murder, and in the same way Proverbs offers instructions on interpersonal associations in a categorical register. Proverbs 13:20

68

69

On the ethics of speaking in Egypt and ancient Israel see, e.g., Miriam Lichtheim, Moral Values in Ancient Egypt, OBO 155 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1997); Bühlmann, Vom Rechten Reden. Texts about associations were excluded from the list of references to absolute ethical prescriptions in Chapter 3. See Prov 13:20; 14:7, 20; 17:12, 17; 18:1, 24; 19:4, 6–7; 20:19; 22:24–25; 23:6–8; 24:1–2, 21–22; 25:17; 27:8, 10; 28:4, 7.

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149

summarizes the book’s position: “whoever walks with the wise will become wise, but the companion of fools will be harmed.” This and other proverbs about associations are best understood alongside Aristotle’s conception of friendship. Aristotle classifies three types of friendship.70 The first two arise from less-than-ideal motivations, befriending others for the sake of utility or pleasure rather than for the friend’s own sake and good: “in a friendship based on utility or pleasure men love their friend for their own good or their own pleasure, and not as being the person loved, but as useful or agreeable” (NE 8.3.2). Youths, for example, find friends on the basis of pleasure, following their emotions, falling in and out of love, and enjoying the pleasure that friendship renders. Such hedonic motivations for friendship appear in Prov 1:10–19, where gang members entice the son to join their guild with a promise that the group will find “all precious wealth and fill our houses with plunder” (1:13). They tell the boy, “Cast your lot in our midst; we will all have one purse” (1:14). Friendship with the gang is useful, grounded in the boy’s desire for personal, financial gain, and providing him with a share in criminal spoils rather than a share in mutual good as the perfect friendship of virtuous companions would.71 As for the other imperfect form of friendship, one driven not necessarily by pleasure but by utility, Saul Olyan has rightly identified Prov 19:4 – “Wealth adds many friends, but a poor man is deserted by his friend.”72 With riches and luxury come all variety of new companions, and these “many friends” have likely based their friendship on utilitarian gains, guilty of what Aristotle describes as a utility-based conception of friendship. “The perfect form of friendship,” says Aristotle, is that between the good, and those who resemble each other in virtue. For these friends wish each alike the other’s good in respect of their goodness, and they are

70

71

72

For what Aristotle calls φιλία, translators, self-admittedly, inadequately render “friendship” (Bostock, Aristotle’s Ethics, 167–168). This concept is distinct from the “friendliness” virtue that Aristotle discusses in NE 4.6, which, despite calling it φιλία in 2.7.13, is said to only resemble φιλία and remains nameless. Proverbs 14:20, in the context of 14:21, disapproves of friendship driven by financial incentives. In 14:20, wealth brings many friends; in 14:21, disliking one’s neighbor, who may not be wealthy, is condemned, and generosity to the poor is commended. Thus friendship towards all is advocated, especially to the poor, and the friendship that money can buy is considered suspect. Saul Olyan, Friendship in the Hebrew Bible, The Anchor Yale Bible Reference Library (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2017), 35–36.

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good in themselves; but it is those who wish the good of their friends for their friends’ sake who are friends in the fullest sense, since they love each other for themselves and not accidentally. (NE 8.3.6)

This best form of friendship sits within Aristotle’s teleological view of morality, as friendship between good people arises from and aims toward the good of both friends, in contrast to the goals of personal gain or pleasure. They are companions of virtue rather than friends with benefits or mates looking for some advantage, and yet these lesser forms of friendship are incorporated within perfect companionship, since to promote the good of another is itself a pleasure and secures additional benefits. Proverbs also views interpersonal associations within a teleological scheme. Sayings that mirror 13:20 – “whoever walks with the wise will become wise, but the companion of fools will be harmed” – govern relationships based upon the book’s goals of becoming wise and avoiding folly or harm.73 To associate with the wise is a moral imperative of Proverbs and marks a friendship between “those who resemble each other in virtue,” nurturing the book’s moral goal: to become wise. Such virtuous friendship contrasts with associations between bad people or good and bad people, which leads to results that counter the aims of Proverbs: ruin, harm, and vicious activity like bringing shame upon a family (28:7; 29:3). The associations that Proverbs prefers resemble Aristotle’s perfect kind of friendship and similarly operate upon a teleological structure of moral motivations and ends.74 In contrast to the conceptual structure of virtuous interpersonal associations, about which Aristotle and Proverbs largely agree, the sociohistorical contexts of these ethical viewpoints differ substantially. Aristotle casts friendship within the context of the polis, where each member relates to another for some advantage and all associations are 73

74

See Prov 13:20; 14:7; 18:24; 20:19; 22:24–25; 24:1–2; 27:6. Proverbs 18:1 does not neatly fit into the scheme of good and bad community associations in Proverbs. “Whoever isolates himself seeks [his own] desire; he quarrels against all sound judgment.” The saying disapproves of isolation, though it condemns such action based on a self-seeking motivation and likens it to foolish behavior. For a catalogue of instructions on friendship within ancient Near Eastern literature, which includes additional perspectives on the topic, see Graham Davies, “The Ethics of Friendship in Wisdom Literature,” in Ethical and Unethical in the Old Testament: God and Humans in Dialogue, ed. K. Dell (New York; London: T&T Clark, 2010), 145–149. Olyan (Friendship, 62–69, 87–103) overlooks this possibility when he contrasts Aristotle’s ideal friendship with the good friendship of Sir 37:5 and Ruth, which differ from Aristotle’s in featuring loyalty, rather than virtue as such, as their shared feature.

Goodness and the Development of Traditions

151

“parts of the association of the state” (NE 8.9.4–6). Proverbs does not place friendships within a polis but instead places them within a community marked by religious membership through allegiance to the Lord: “My son, fear the Lord and the king, and do not join with officials” (Prov 24:21).75 This saying sets interpersonal associations within the context of attitudes toward the Lord and king, so that membership with the right community entails a certain religious posture, which the “officials” presumably do not have, as they face consequent disaster (24:22).76 Bolstered by Proverbs’ defining admonition to “fear the Lord” (e.g., 1:7, 29; 9:10; 15:33; 31:30), the wise community championed by other proverbs shares this religious attitude, unlike the community of fools who exclude themselves from it. Aristotelian friendship occurs within the context of the polis, which is rightly guided by interest in the good of its virtuous members. In Proverbs, friendship occurs within the context of the religious community, rightly guided by an interest in those who fear the Lord for the sake of growing in wisdom.

goodness and the development of traditions Two points in this discussion of an Aristotelian type of Proverbs still call for explanation. The first deals with a concept central to the NE, namely, “goodness,” and how it is defined, prompting the question, What defines what is good to do in the NE and Proverbs? Aristotle defines what is good to do based on the function of human beings and the concept of virtue. He determines a thing’s essence by identifying its function, and human beings, according to that function, do all things toward some good, ultimately toward a supreme good (10.9.1–2).77 This supreme is described as functioning well and is further specified as possessing and

75

76

77

Although either choice retains the associative context, the evidence for retaining the MT and interpreting ‫“( שונים‬those who change”) as “nobles” based on Arabic saniya is most convincing (see Plöger, Sprüche, 264; D. N. Thomas, “The Root šnh = sny in Hebrew, II,” ZAW 55 [1937]: 174–176). “Do not anger either of them” (Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 752) is possible but should not be favored based on Prov 22:29, which Fox claims means that the addressed pupil is bound for royal service. Proverbs 24:22 says “For suddenly will their disaster arise, and who knows the ruin [that will come from] both of them.” The “ruin of both of them” most clearly refers to the action of the Lord and king. “Their disaster” could also refer to this action but most likely refers to the ruin suffered by the officials, and could be deliberately ambiguous. This view is based on Aristotle’s metaphysics and psychology (NE 1.7.10–14; 1.1.1; 1.2.1–3).

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exercising virtue: “it follows that the Good of man is the active exercise of his soul’s faculties in conformity with excellence or virtue, or if there be several human excellences or virtues, in conformity with the best and most perfect among them” (1.7.15). The good, then, is to act in conformity with virtue(s) or, in other words, to function well as a human and to do so for a lifetime. Unsurprisingly, then, Aristotle sets out to define these virtues in the NE so that his audience might live well, showing that human function and the concept of virtue combine to define the good. That conception of virtue was unpacked in Chapter 3 and defined as a disposition that determines the mean in action and emotion in accordance with right principle, as the prudent man would. Doing good, then, incorporates elements of virtue itself, right principle, and the prudent man, and yet it is only virtue and particularly how virtue determines the mean that receive much attention in the NE. Hence Aristotle’s discussion about what is good to do is characterized by the search for mean-states in action and emotion, that which avoids excess and deficiency and hits the mean in view of all relevant variables. In practice, then, he defines what is good to do by exploring how virtue determines mean-states rather than extensively accounting for other definitive elements of the good such as right principle and the prudent man. Proverbs defines what is good to do based on what the wise person does.78 While such people are morally ordained by the Lord, they in practice operate as the authoritative determiners of goodness throughout Proverbs. In the same way, “virtues” are exhibited in the book but they are substantiated by showing how a virtuous person acts, such as the prudent son who “gathers in summer” (10:5). Virtuous individuals also feature in the NE, with one making his prime appearance in Aristotle’s definition of virtue, that “settled disposition of the mind determining the choice of actions and emotions, consisting essentially in the observance of the mean relative to us, this being determined by principle, that is, as the prudent man would determine it” (NE 2.6.15). The “prudent person” (ὁ φρόνιμος) determines right principle and thus the mean that virtues hit, but although he is mentioned here he remains unseen. Within the NE, the prudent person does not display generosity or courage or the sort of wit that makes speech virtuous. At most, he serves as a guide for determining the mean, an exemplar with respect to the prudence that he exercises in ethical decision-making. The same can be said of the

78

See the discussion in Chapter 3.

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“good man” (ὁ σπουδαῖος) to the extent that he rightly discerns between real and apparent goods: “For the good man judges everything correctly; what things truly are, that they seem to him to be, in every department” (3.4.4). The moral virtues themselves are substantiated not by the prudent man’s exhibition or in a showcase of the good man’s activity but rather through conceptual description and a demonstration of how they fit within the context of the mean. “Acts are not ‘defined in terms of persons’,” says Scott Rubarth, “but in terms of ends (or goods). Ends in turn are evaluated in reference to greater ends, with the result being that all actions ultimately are evaluated in terms of the summum bonum, the final good.”79 It seems, therefore, that Proverbs and Aristotle are talking about the same idea (good) in different ways, the former in terms of how caricatured persons behave and the latter in terms of how actions and emotions adhere to criteria for virtue. These perspectives or means of explanation are not the only distinction. In some cases, as argued in this chapter, Proverbs and Aristotle are talking about the same idea but saying very different things about it. For instance, honor constitutes a type of regard from others or from the self in both Proverbs and the NE, and yet these texts offer extremely different ethical evaluations of and implications for the topic. In other words, Proverbs and the NE at times explore a similar topic in distinct ways and at other times explore a topic and arrive at quite distinctive conclusions, so that if the NE were transposed into a collection of proverbs, the collection would in some cases resemble the book of Proverbs (e.g., addressing the “good”) and in other cases differ (e.g., what it says about honor). An extension of these different treatments of the good is a different treatment of the character types just mentioned. Proverbs enforces virtue through its characters – the wise, diligent, and righteous persons – who function as moral exemplars for readers to emulate.80 They serve as caricatures, in the positive sense, with which readers can examine their own moral life and aspire to higher ethical ground. The good and prudent men in the NE do not function in this way, as moral exemplars, but rather 79

80

Rubarth, “Aristotle,” 3. The role of the prudent man is further evident in Aristotle’s discussion of prudence itself (NE 6.5), which is the only other time he mentions the prudent man: “We may arrive at a definition of Prudence by considering who are the persons whom we call prudent” (6.5.1). For a similar view on the role of the “prudent” and “good” man but with further discussion of “right reason,” see Alfonso Gómez-Lobo, “Aristotle’s Right Reason,” Apeiron 28 (1995): 15–34. See Keefer, Proverbs 1–9.

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as guides for particular intellectual activities, respectively distinguishing true good from apparent good and using prudence to find the right principle in action and emotion. While good action itself might equate to Aristotelian moral virtue in both Proverbs and the NE, its mode of presentation looks patently different in each.81 The second issue arises from the distinctive language of Proverbs as well as passages so far unaccounted for. Proverbs often portrays its characters by placing them on a “way,” and many sayings that use such language were not explained in terms of Aristotle’s criteria for moral virtue (e.g., 11:3; 13:15; 14:2, 8), raising an as yet overlooked feature of the book’s moral vision. There are two ways in Proverbs: the way of life/wisdom (4:11; 6:23) and the way of death/evil (4:14; 7:27). The “way of life” constitutes a metaphor for a complete lifestyle characterized by wisdom, the closest concept in Proverbs to Aristotle’s eudaimonia.82 This particular language, however, likely appears in Proverbs due to the book’s development of other moral traditions, namely Egyptian instructional literature. Egyptian texts of all periods advocated for “the way of life,” as Amenemope for instance opens with the ambition to direct its reader “on the paths of life” (1.7), and although “paths” are mentioned, only one appears in the Egyptian literature, and that is the path of life. Proverbs, however, speaks of two paths – the way of life/wisdom and the way of death/evil – and even places its ethical freight upon them like two rails. According to Michael Fox, “The Egyptian sages do not refer to the other path [i.e. the path of death]; therefore, the image of the ‘way’ is not inherently polar. The polarity of the TWO PATHS is a deliberate development in Proverbs.”83

81

82 83

Moral character types in Greek literature are, overall, unlike what appear in Proverbs. Among other things, examples of virtuous predecessors guided morality, and instruction was typically bound to historical occurrence or generalized turns of phrase about character but not caricatured types as such (see, e.g., Dover, Greek Popular Morality, 106–112). Xenophon, for instance, recalls those “men accustomed to choose pleasure in place of honor” (Symp. 7.63). Why this difference exists between Proverbs and the NE is hard to say, except for the possibility that ancient Near Eastern instructional literature set the tone for how Proverbs presented its ethic and Greek literature conversely set a different tone for Aristotle. See the note below. See the discussion in Chapter 2. Fox, Proverbs 1–9, 130. Cf. Xenophon’s (Mem. 2.1.21) reference to the “path of virtue or path of vice.” I should note, also, that Proverbs’ use of caricatured figures likewise stems from its interaction with other ancient moral traditions. The well-known resemblance of the Egyptian “heated” and “silent” man exemplified in texts such as Amenemope and, later, Papyrus Insinger account, in part, for why Proverbs contains the character-type mode of ethical language in a way that Aristotle does not (cf. Lichtheim, Moral Values, 35, 87, 93).

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This distinct feature of Proverbs was derived in part from an international moral tradition within which it operated and upon which it expanded. Likewise, Aristotle’s approach to virtue was derived from his moral tradition, manifest in the works of Plato and Homer, for example, who provided moral positions that Aristotle developed, particularly the Homeric conception of courage and the Platonic notion of the greatsouled man.84 Proverbs and Aristotle operated within traditions of moral inquiry that created intellectual contexts to which they both responded.

conclusion Following on from Chapter 3 and its production of a Proverbial list of moral virtues, Chapters 4 and 5 have shown that aside from the primary criteria for Aristotelian virtue the Proverbial list contains differences and similarities with Aristotle’s. Such differences require a delineation of social, historical, and doctrinal contexts in order to be explained. In some cases, these contexts make sense of the varying amounts of attention given to certain virtues that are predominant in Proverbs and relatively minimal in the NE (i.e. courage, work, speech). In other cases, these contexts reveal that emotions and activities might appear similar in name but that their underlying features differ a great deal (i.e. honor/shame). Therefore, while certain actions and emotions in Proverbs can be spoken of, in no anachronistic sense, as “Aristotelian moral virtues,” it must be carefully noted that while they meet Aristotle’s criteria for virtue these emotions and activities may not necessarily match his particular conception of them. Honor and shame, courage, work, speech, and interpersonal associations do not exhaust the topics that can be explored in this way, which could go on to include the virtues of discipline and friendliness. Aristotle mentions discipline as beneficial to profligate children (NE 3.12.5–9), treating it not as a moral virtue but simply as a strategy to train wanton desire. In contrast, discipline in Proverbs meets Aristotle’s criteria for moral virtue and is given much more extensive attention. Might the role of and attention to discipline in Proverbs be due to the book’s potentially

84

See Schütrumpf (“Magnanimity,” 10–11) for a comparison of Plato’s and Aristotle’s views of virtue. Plato’s understanding of virtue does not seem to underlie Aristotle’s criteria for virtue, especially in view of the Meno.

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young audience and its familial context rather than the polis context of the NE? A second concept worth looking into is friendliness, which, Aristotle says, pertains to social intercourse and to propriety in the context of personal relationships (4.6). Instead of such social graces, associations in Proverbs disclose a value for mercy and peacemaking between people, that is, showing kindness and settling disputes rather than keeping up appearances and charming a dinner guest. Might such a distinction be explained by the nature of conflict in the respective societies and perhaps by the differing theological undercurrents of Proverbs and Aristotle? The promise of such questions rests secure on the foundation provided here, namely, the identification of moral virtues in Proverbs based on their alignment with Aristotelian criteria. Lastly, the theological component of ethics infiltrated the discussion at numerous points in Chapters 4 and 5, particularly when the Lord overwhelms Proverbs’ ethical world. He exhibits the mean-state in mercy, anger, work, discipline, and dispute; he is involved in Israel’s judicial procedures, sources courage, and founds the book’s community of friends. The concept of humility receives its definition based largely on the Lord, as the humble submit to him, find refuge in him, and heed his instruction, and as he furthermore norms self-regard, setting the standard for humans who must align their affection and assessment of the moral world with his own. The Lord eclipses most elements of morality in Proverbs and takes the seat of moral authority. He not only determines what is good to do but functions as a necessary condition for doing good, substantiating a set of conclusions that correspond to two phrases that predominate in Proverbs: “abomination to the Lord” and “the fear of the Lord.” Proverbs uses the first to evaluate moral characters and activity, presupposing its authority (e.g., 6:16; 12:22), and uses the second as the starting point and continual fuel for growing in wisdom (e.g., 1:7; 15:33). Without question, the book’s theology governs its morality. Governance in Aristotelian morality looks very different. As mentioned in Chapter 2, Aristotle asserts that “all forms of virtuous conduct seem trifling and unworthy of the gods” (NE 10.8.7). The gods contemplate but do not participate in moral virtue; it is a solely human affair, and that premise remains consistent in Aristotle’s treatment of the virtues. Proverbs clearly differs on this account. For the Lord not only determines and exhibits virtue but is also the object toward which human actions and emotions are directed. They trust him, hate him, fear him, and even honor him, a whole set of evidence that was largely set aside in this chapter even though Proverbs says much about it. It went unexplored in part because

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Aristotle does not provide the necessary conceptual facilities. But thankfully, philosophical resources for assessing such theological ideas are found elsewhere, and it is the Thomistic tradition – Aquinas and his understanding of the theological virtues – that supplies the appropriate moral equipment, to which the next chapter is dedicated.

6 Theological Virtues in Proverbs

Chapter 3 set out Aristotle’s understanding of moral virtue by enumerating a set of criteria to argue that those criteria are met by many of the actions and emotions portrayed in Proverbs. As “moral virtues,” such dispositions are exclusively human and do not by definition incorporate God, who, as a divine being, would be in Aristotle’s mind incapable of “virtue” or “vice.” However, in Proverbs God continues to encroach upon the moral horizon and appears to have more to do with human morality than the NE can explain, and so this chapter takes up that heap of theological evidence from Proverbs and consults another philosophical resource within the line of virtue ethics: Thomas Aquinas. When viewed as a contributor to the history of ethical thought, Aquinas supplemented Aristotle’s moral and intellectual virtues with theological virtues: faith, hope, and love. Just as it was asked in prior chapters whether Aristotle’s moral virtues corresponded to concepts in Proverbs, so here the question is whether or not Aquinas’ notions of theological virtue correlate to remarks in Proverbs. Is it such conceptions of faith or hope that Proverbs refers to when it says things like “trust in the Lord with all your heart” (3:5a) or “your hope will not be cut off” (24:14c)? Is this “hope” a theological virtue? Does “trust” refer to the sort of “faith” expounded by Aquinas? When God reproves “him whom he loves” (3:12a), does this “love” correspond to Thomistic charity? This chapter answers such questions, to argue that Proverbs does contain concepts that meet Aquinas’ criteria for theological virtue. On the one hand, these concepts appear explicitly, as in the examples just mentioned that refer to “hope” and “love.” On the other hand, they also occur implicitly, as in passages that portray humans exercising faith in God without mentioning 158

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“faith” in a linguistic sense.1 Aquinas’ definitions and criteria for such virtues are first introduced, which should be treated with special precision given that he holds distinctive views on what exactly these virtues refer to. We should also bear in mind that Aquinas probably had no access to Hebrew Proverbs and was instead using a standard Parisian version of the Latin Bible.2 That has less relevance for his conception of the theological virtues, but it will be significant, at times, for how he understands Proverbs. With the virtues expounded, the bulk of this chapter explores the text of Proverbs to argue that two portions of the book most clearly feature the theological virtues (Prov 1–3; 30:1–9) whilst the remaining material (Proverbs 10–29) supports and qualifies my initial conclusions.

what are the theological virtues according to aquinas? Aquinas’ theological virtues – faith, hope, and love – are “theological” for two primary reasons. First, they surpass human nature, requiring divine revelation to make them known and divine power to infuse them, and second their object and end is God, which marks their primary difference from moral and intellectual virtues.3 So someone with the theological virtue of hope does not necessarily trust or put her hope in her neighbor but rather hopes in God. Instead of hoping, fundamentally, in another human or striving for eudaimonia as an ultimate end, she trusts God to supply her with good. In addition to these attributes of “theological 1

2

3

Aside from brief suggestions in Chapter 7, no attempt is made to relate the theological and moral virtues, in view of the fact that Aristotle and Aquinas had different understandings of the moral virtues, despite the substantial overlap. Simply treating moral virtues as Aristotelian and theological virtues as Thomistic generates more than sufficient exegetical fruit when interpreting Proverbs. He seems to have had some access to portions of the Greek OT, but exactly what is not clear. For a standard take on Aquinas’ resources for biblical interpretation, see Hugh Pope, “St. Thomas as an Interpreter of Holy Scripture,” in Saint Thomas Aquinas: Being Papers Read at the Celebrations of the Sixth Centenary of the Canonization of Saint Thomas Aquinas, Held at Manchester, 1924, ed. Aelred Whitacre (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2009), 111–121. Moral virtues can also be infused (ST I–II 65). For discussion on the nature of infused moral virtue, see Romanus Cessario, The Moral Virtues and Theological Ethics (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991), 102–113. According to him, Aquinas distinguished between acquired and infused moral virtues based upon their measure and purpose. One contributes to civil life, the other to spiritual life and community. One is measured by the good it does for society, the other based on the good of eternal life and therefore imitatio Christi.

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virtue,” which require divine revelation and power, and know God as their object and end, Aquinas defines the three particular theological virtues: faith, hope, and love.4 He affirms the definition of faith given by Heb 11:1 as, in his words, “faith is a habit of the mind, whereby eternal life is begun in us, making the intellect assent to what is nonapparent” (ST II–II 4.1). “Faith” pertains to the intellect, as the mind assents to the Truth (II–II 4.5), which foremost includes God himself as well as knowledge of God as contained in the confessions and creeds (II–II 1.6–9), articles made known in Scripture and extracted by theologians. As a theological virtue, faith works in concert with the will by first apprehending the object of truth and then enabling the will to incline toward that truth (II–II 4.7). Again, faith is an act of the intellect that assents to God’s revealed truth, and the inclination of the will that then inclines to truth refers to “hope,” which is exercised by trusting its object (i.e. God) to deliver the good that faith apprehends (II–II 17). According to Aquinas, “faith makes us adhere to God, as the source whence we derive the knowledge of truth, since we believe that what God tells us is true: while hope makes us adhere to God, as the source whence we derive perfect goodness, i.e. in so far as, by hope, we trust to the Divine assistance for obtaining happiness” (II–II 17.6). In short, faith intellectually adheres to God for truth, and hope volitionally adheres to God for happiness. Romanus Cessario has clarified the central feature of hope by appealing to Aquinas’ first systematic question about the topic as such (II–II 17.1): “Aquinas recapitulates the basic teaching that hope’s virtuousness lies precisely in its proper reliance on the divine help.”5 Hope is dependence upon God for help, namely for help to attain the good that one hopes for. With faith apprehending the good and hope trusting God to deliver such good, these theological virtues are completed with charity, which is “the friendship of man for God” (II–II 23.1). Charity refers to a union with God who communicates his happiness to humans, an act exemplified by both parties in the exercise of love. To say that someone possesses the theological virtue of charity is to say that that person loves God and joins in God’s happiness. In sum, faith apprehends God; hope trusts to obtain him; charity loves him (QV 12).

4 5

ST I–II 62.3. Cessario, “The Theological Virtue of Hope (IIa IIae, qq. 17–22),” in The Ethics of Aquinas, ed. S. J. Pope (Washington: Georgetown University Press, 2002), 235 (see 241 n. 16 for Quaestio disputata de spe, q. un., a. 1).

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Consider an example: Thomas Aquinas receives a revelation in which God declares that he rewards those who write extensive works of theology, and the reward consists of an exclusive beatific vision in the afterlife. Aquinas assents to this revelation as a testimony from God that he considers to be true, exercising the theological virtue of faith. Having intellectually believed God, Aquinas then trusts that God will hold to his promise and grant an exclusive beatific vision to those who write theological tomes, so Aquinas writes his ST, not by his own steam alone but with the help of God whom he trusts for a future reward, and he trusts God in this way because he has the theological virtue of hope. Aquinas’ faith and hope come from God, who infuses them based on a relationship of love. For God loves Aquinas, and by God’s grace Aquinas loves God. Having completed the ST, Aquinas appears in the life to come at the throne of God with others, like Augustine, Bonaventure, and John Calvin, enjoying an exclusive beatific vision secured through the theological virtue of charity. This beatific scenario illustrates not only the definitions of virtue but also their organization, about which more can be said. Aquinas, first, orders the virtues with respect to generation. Faith leads to hope, and hope leads to charity (ST I–II 62.4), for faith initially apprehends its object and then works in concert with hope, that is, a will inclined to trust God for obtaining happiness, which charity then secures through communion. Aquinas also orders the virtues in terms of perfection, where charity enables both faith and hope to mature and become perfect, as evident in the fact that faith and hope continually depend upon a relationship with God – i.e. charity – who communicates them to the human being. Lastly, each of the theological virtues relies upon grace, for only those who receive the grace of God – not all people but only those constituted as spiritual beings, as citizens of heaven (ST I–II 63) – can obtain them. To organize the theological virtues, Aquinas proposes a relationship of generation, whereby faith begets hope, and hope begets charity, and also proffers a relationship of perfection, whereby faith and hope need the virtue of charity in order to mature. As a final qualification, the acquisition of any theological virtues begins with the reception of God’s grace. These definitions describe the theological virtues in their principal form, as human actions directed toward God, and yet these primary definitions are extended by Aquinas to encompass secondary modes of operation, which apply faith, hope, and love to other human beings. Hope, for example, can rely on human instead of divine help to obtain good, as Aquinas, in his attempt to obtain an exclusive beatific vision,

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may have trusted his amanuensis to accurately transcribe the ST. But this human help is only instrumental since God, and no human, can supply the ultimate good that concerns Aquinas.6 The same could be said of faith and charity, which ultimately focus on God but in a secondary sense take humans as their objects of assent and love. The primary definitions of theological virtue form the core of my interpretation of Proverbs, with secondary conceptions being introduced when appropriate. This path of interpretation is not entirely untrodden and one scholar in particular, Daniel Treier, has argued that Aquinas’ secondary definitions of theological virtue appear within the book of Proverbs.

a proposal for theological virtues in proverbs 10–29 Treier has used Aquinas’ theological virtues to interpret Proverbs 10–29 on the premise that these virtues “afford a language within which to examine, structure, and summarize the instruction of Proverbs.”7 In turn, Proverbs supplements Aquinas’ moral philosophy “with unique elements of emphasis and context.”8 Although twofold, Treier’s aim is less ambitious than my own. For instead of examining Proverbs based strictly upon Aquinas’ criteria for virtue, he employs quite broad understandings of Aquinas’ concepts to help analyze and organize Proverbs, a more modest aim that may explain what seems to be a shortcoming of his work. Treier argues that the theological virtue of faith appears in Proverbs based on references to “the fear of the Lord” (14:2; 16:6; 23:17).9 To corroborate the link of faith and fear in these passages, he draws attention to the parallelism of “fidelity” language and the fear of Lord, such as the alignment of “walking in uprightness” and fearing the Lord in 14:2, or the contrast of fearing the Lord and envying sinners in 23:17. “Do not let your heart envy sinners, but rather those who fear the Lord all the day.”10 The fidelity–fear connection, however, seems evident only in Prov 16:6 6

7

8 10

Cf. Nicholas Austin, Aquinas on Virtue: A Causal Reading (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2017), 176–177. Treier, Proverbs, 67. For Aquinas’ cardinal virtues in Proverbs, see Ellen F. Davis, “Preserving Virtues: Renewing the Tradition of the Sages,” in Character and Scripture: Moral Formation, Community, and Biblical Interpretation, ed. William P. Brown (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 183–201. 9 Treier, Proverbs, 67. Treier, Proverbs, 76 (see also 77–78). I follow G. R. Driver (“Problems in the Hebrew Text of Proverbs,” Biblica 32 [1951]: 196) who, instead of supplying a verb in line B (“but rather [continue] in the fear of the Lord), understands ‫ יראת‬as a collective noun for “those who fear” the Lord. Thus, the

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where “steadfast love and faithfulness” atone for iniquity, and by “the fear of the Lord” one turns from evil. But even then, this proverb may support a notion of theological virtue only if the initial pair of traits – “steadfast love and faithfulness” – refers to human love and faithfulness. Other than these interpretations, Treier broaches ideas of humility and of being selective when trusting others to stress that the importance of faith in Proverbs lies in connecting humans with a trustworthy object, which is not to be found in an inflated view of oneself or in unreliable people. The virtue of faith, then, is treated at least partly within the definition supplied by Aquinas: God constitutes faith’s object, and so fearing him (i.e. the fear of the Lord) provides evidence for faith as a theological virtue in Proverbs. Treier otherwise departs from Aquinas’ understanding of faith by equating it with trust in most any object, such as wise words or sinners, and explores the concepts collocated with human trust rather than the mechanics of the theological virtue as such. For Aquinas, faith refers to an intellectual assent to truth, or trusting an object as a source of truth. The more generalized “fidelity” to persons, as espoused by Treier, corresponds more with Aquinas’ virtue of hope, which I will argue is more plausibly what appears in passages like Prov 23:17. Treier similarly departs from Aquinas’ understanding of the virtues when discussing hope and charity.11 First, he says, Proverbs upholds wisdom as the proper object of hope in contrast to a number of alternative objects. For she is to be trusted more than wealth and honor and power and position. But to argue for such secondary anchors of hope in Proverbs, such as wisdom, which are accommodated by Aquinas, would require an examination of the text that first accounts for Aquinas’ principal understanding of the theological virtue. In other words, before moving on to hope in wisdom it must first be determined how Proverbs envisions hope in God. Second, according to Treier, charity in Proverbs connects with justice and therefore with the mercy of friends, kindness of family, and generosity to the poor. Again, Aquinas extends charity’s scope to other humans (ST II–II 25.1), prompting Eberhard Schockenhoff’s comment that the “human being’s responsive love of God necessarily includes the love for all those put on the path alongside us to the same

11

proverb prohibits envying sinners and commends a zeal for, and in that sense an envy of, those who fear the Lord all the day. See Treier, Proverbs, 78–81.

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final goal, who are called to share in the same beatitude.”12 Although love for others is indeed love for God since both people share in a common good and advance toward that good, for Aquinas, charity is considered a virtue directed toward other humans only after it is established with reference to God. Aquinas’ moral philosophy does aid the organization and interpretation of Proverbs, and the broader, seemingly anthropological scope of the theological virtues should be accounted for, as Treier has attempted. However, for neither hope nor charity does Treier consider God as object. He instead considers these concepts anthropologically, in the context of humans acting toward other humans, whereas Aquinas explicitly defines theological virtues as those that have God as their object. Faith, hope, and love are distinguished from other virtues because they are faith, hope, and love in or for God. While Proverbs may display these virtues predominately in their secondary modes, they should first be accounted for in their primary, theological sense. Again, Treier may have more modest goals for his interpretation of Proverbs, which do not require upholding Aquinas’ primary criteria for theological virtue, seeing as Proverbs 1–9 and 30–31 – passages rich in theological material – are also exempted from his study of moral philosophy. My focus remains on the criteria for virtue, those characteristics and premises that Aquinas forwards to define faith, hope, and charity. Likewise, Proverbs 10–29 as well as 1–9 and 30–31 are all accounted for, incorporating the whole of Proverbs into an analysis of Aquinas’ understanding of human action as it takes God as its object.

how are aquinas’ theological virtues present in proverbs? The task of determining whether or not Aquinas’ theological virtues are present in the book of Proverbs immediately encounters a problem in view of the fact that Aquinas steeped his moral thought in Scripture and may thereby render my attempt to identify Thomistic virtues within Proverbs a circular argument. If Aquinas used Proverbs to conceive of theological virtue, then Proverbs will most likely, if not inevitably, contain such virtues. The problem, however, is not as great as it seems.

12

Eberhard Schockenhoff, “The Theological Virtue of Charity (IIa IIae, qq. 23–46),” in Pope, Ethics, 252.

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In addition to covering major prophets, two NT Gospels, and the letters of Paul, Aquinas wrote commentaries on Psalms 1–54 and the book of Job. Although he did not write a commentary on Proverbs, he does cite certain passages from the book within his discussions of virtues and vices in the ST, especially using Proverbs to shed light on the nature and relationship of certain vices. For example, when Aquinas discusses the vices of charity and asks “whether strife is a daughter of anger,” he responds in the negative – “strife is not a daughter of anger” – and supports his response by quoting a litany of proverbs (II–II 41.2). A similar method occurs with the vices of justice (II–II 72.4; 73.2), temperance (II–II 149.4), and prudence (II–II 55.3), attesting to the point that Aquinas aligns human action in Proverbs with moral virtue and vice and that Proverbs especially provides evidence of vicious human activity.13 When discussing the objects of charity (II–II 25.8; so 7.2), he entertains an idea found in Prov 10:12, that “charity covereth all sins,” and therefore assumes that the caritas (‫“ ;אהבה‬love”) mentioned in this proverb is “charity” in the sense of a theological virtue as he understands it.14 Aquinas also questions the relationship of the Decalogue and prudence (II–II 56.1), and although he concludes that the Decalogue directs prudent actions and primarily refers to acts of justice, the use of Proverbs within his arguments about virtue again resurfaces. Aside from detailing particular vices and virtues, the ST cites Proverbs at a couple of points when characterizing virtue as such, that virtues vary in greatness (I–II 66.1; 73.4) or are distinct from beatitudes (3:13; I–II 69.3).15 Few other passages from Proverbs appear in Aquinas’ discussion of moral and theological virtues, as he instead interacts with Aristotle, Augustine, and NT texts, along with Wis 8:7 and Sir 2:8–9 13

14

15

Aquinas similarly makes use of Prov 2:14; 6:30–32; 14:22; 19:25 and others when discussing adultery, evil as an error, and various vices such as malice, despair, and unbelief (ST I–II 73.5; 77.2; 78.1–2; II–II 12; 14; 20.3; 30.2; 37.1). For reproof in Prov 9:8 and 27:6, see ST II–II 32.2; 33.2, 6. As an aside, this all fits with the generally accepted and fairly reliable indications that Aquinas did not know, or at least did not utilize, Hebrew. So Prov 8:17 in ST II–II 65.5, and 25:21 in II–II 25.9. The Vulgate uses caritas for Prov 10:12, and seeing as Aquinas does not defend his use of the passage, his appeal elsewhere to the ethical language of the Vulgate makes me think that he selected these proverbs for the sake of supporting his choice of moral concepts. In ST I–II 66.1, for instance, he cites Vulgate Prov 15:5c, which finds no warrant in the LXX or Hebrew MSS for the additional two lines of 15:5, “In abundant justice there is the greatest strength [virtus].” To my point, he nevertheless understands virtus (“strength”) here as “(moral) virtue.” See also Prov 15:5 above.

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(e.g., II–II 57.5; 62.1).16 In view of explicit references, all of which have been accounted for here, Aquinas uses Proverbs to structure his views on vice and charity and bases minimal parts of his understanding of virtue on the book, which deflects the objection that exploring Proverbs for theological virtue is a circular endeavor. Aquinas’ use of Scripture, rather, bespeaks a fruitful study into the relation of his moral thought and the book of Proverbs, a relationship that my argument looks into from the perspective of the underexplored aspects of contact between Aquinas’ Scripture-based thought and Scripture itself.17 The discussion of the theological virtues above indicated that faith apprehends God, that hope trusts to obtain him, and that charity loves him, which supplies the principal criteria for identifying such virtues in the book of Proverbs. The remaining features that ought to be borne in mind are the errors associated with these virtues, their “vices” for lack of a better term. Theological virtues do not lie on a mean in the way that Aristotle’s moral virtues do, which is evident in their distinctive ethical standards. As the moral virtues hold to the standard of reason and thereby accommodate a mean-state framework, so the theological virtues hold to the standard of God (ST II–II 17.5). For God rules the theological virtues, which consequently do not lie on a mean. They do not, that is, falter in excess or deficiency: “never can we love God as much as he ought to be loved, nor believe and hope in Him as much as we should. Much less therefore can there be excess in such things. Accordingly, the good of such virtues does not consist in a mean, but increases the more we approach to the summit” (I–II 64.4). In Aristotle’s terms, it could be said that there is no “right time, manner, or place” to lack faith, hope, or charity; these actions, in a sense, ought to be exhibited at all times, in all ways and all places, as it seems preposterous to think that we could exercise them too much (so QV 13). There is one exception to the mean-less understanding of theological virtues, and that is the virtue of hope, which is corrupted through deficiency (i.e. despair) and excess (i.e. presumption) (ST II–II 20–21). On the one hand, humans hope too much in God when they presume that they will obtain a good from him that is not possible, and on the other hand 16

17

To support that the prudent man learns from others, Aquinas cites Prov 3:5 (ST II–II 49.3). He refers to “the wisdom of men” in Prov 30:2 (Vulgate, sapientia hominum; II–II 45.4), and discusses fear (Prov 1:33) in the context of hope (I–II 67.4) and the gift/virtue relation (15:27; I–II 68.4). Cf. Eleonore Stump, Wandering in Darkness: Narrative and the Problem of Suffering (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010).

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Table 6.1 Theological virtues Virtue Faith Hope Charity

Agent and Action The intellect apprehends The will trusts The human loves

Object and Content

Error

God, the source of truth as manifested in creedal articles God, the source of good/eternal happiness God, who communicates truth and goodness

Unbelief Despair and presumption Hating God and his effects

they do not hope enough when they despair of the promise that God will supply some highly possible good. Hope, then, errs by excess and deficiency, by despair and presumption, and in this sense can be said to lie on a mean. Faith errs by unbelief, whether manifesting in the form of an absence of faith or as a resistance to faith’s object (II–II 10.1, 5), and, finally, hatred for God contrasts with the virtue of charity (II–II 34.1).18 These respective errors provide additional criteria with which to identify the theological virtues, joining the definitions and characteristics delineated above and summarized in Table 6.1. The characteristics in Table 6.1 furnish criteria with which to examine the material in Proverbs. Since God, as the object of human action, is the constitutive feature of the theological virtues, references made to “God” or “the Lord” in Proverbs provide a starting point for analysis. The remaining components of theological virtue are also accounted for, including the agent and their action, the object of action, and the respective errors. In those passages that feature the Lord as an object of human action, it is determined how explicit mentions of apprehension, trust, and love, along with implicit conceptions of them, relate to Aquinas’ theological virtues. To state the aim as a question, How does Proverbs portray human apprehension, trust, and love in or for God, and how do these conceptions relate to the theological virtues of Aquinas’ moral philosophy? The evidence in Proverbs that answers this question is considered based on texts where humans act toward God and then on texts where God acts toward humans, beginning with two portions of

18

According to Aquinas, humans can hate God based only upon his effects, such as forbidding sin or inflicting punishment, but cannot hate him when seen in his essence.

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Proverbs (chs. 1–3; 30:1–9) that are exceptional in their presentation of such activities.19

god as the object of faith, hope, and charity When Proverbs portrays God as the object of human action, it does so in a way that aligns remarkably with the categories of faith, hope, and charity as described by Aquinas. Proverbs 1–3 and 30:1–9 present all three of these human actions in sequence.

Proverbs 1:7, 29; 2:5–6 In Prov 1:7 and 1:29, the Lord is the object of human “fear”: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction . . . they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord.” The phrase “the fear of the Lord” has received diverse interpretations, and for now it is enough to affirm that “fear” is some sort of human posture toward God.20 In 1:7 and 1:29, it stands opposite a hatred of knowledge, for instead of fearing the Lord, fools “despise wisdom and instruction” (1:7b); they “hate knowledge” (1:29a) and “despise [Wisdom’s] reproof” (1:30b). The context of these actions manifests them as intellectual decisions, most notably corroborated by the opening of Proverbs itself (1:1–6), which primes the interpreter for intellectual receptivity – “to know wisdom and instruction, to understand sayings of insight, to receive instruction in wise dealing” (1:2–3a). The compendium of intellectual aims that commences Proverbs sets the tone for the references to “fear” that follow. This is not to say that fear is a solely cognitive posture. Its most obvious sense puts it within the realm of affection and its opposites in Proverbs 1 clearly express an emotional response to God and Wisdom: “hatred” (‫שנא‬ ׂ ) for knowledge, a detestation (‫ )בוז‬of wisdom and instruction, and a contempt (‫ )נאץ‬for Wisdom’s reproof. Even the positive aims in 1:2–6 include less-intellectual behaviors, like exercising 19

20

The full list of texts pertaining to theological action includes 10:3, 22, 27–28; 11:7; 12:2; 14:2, 26–27; 15:3, 8–9, 11, 29; 16:1, 3–4, 6, 9, 11, 20, 33; 17:3; 18:10, 22; 19:14, 21, 23; 20:12, 22, 24, 27–28; 21:1, 3, 27, 30–31; 22:2, 14, 19; 23:17–18; 25:2–5, 19; 27:1; 28:5, 13–14, 25; 29:13, 18, 25–26; 30:1–9; 31:11. For discussion, see the treatment of Prov 15:33 in Chapter 4 and Zoltan Schwab, “Is Fear of the Lord the Source of Wisdom or Vice Versa?,” VT 63 (2013): 652–662.

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“righteousness, justice and equity” (1:3b). So whether in fearing God or rejecting him, one certainly engages the affections, and yet amidst these postures there remains a distinct intellectual conception of cognitive action. For the book’s opening verses feature the mind – “to know,” “to understand,” “to make sense of”; “let the wise one hear and increase in learning” – and Prov 1:6 brings the activity of literary interpretation to the fore: “to understand a proverb and a saying, the words of the wise and their riddles.”21 Proverbs 1:29 also resides within an intellectual context, as its description of recalcitrance is prefaced by Wisdom calling out for people to heed her voice (1:20–23) and her wanting to “make [her] words known” (1:23c). The expected responses and positive actions of Proverbs 1 are intellectual. But this is not to make Proverbs Cartesian, as if cognitive language requires disembodiment, or to permanently segment rationality, morality, and activity. For Proverbs joins the distinct functions of human beings together, presenting and addressing people as integrated creatures. However, the intellectual vocabulary of Proverbs, that is, its language regarding activities of the mind, indicates that an independent conception of intellectual assent is warranted. That looks something like the theological virtue of faith, and within its territory there runs an opposing current that feels very much like its theological corollary of “unbelief.” For in Prov 1:7 and 1:29, the human action antithetical to fear is the hatred of knowledge, seen in fools who “despise wisdom and instruction” and their compatriots that “hated knowledge and did not choose the fear of the Lord.” It reflects the unbelief that counters the theological virtue of faith. For the fool “opposes” God and, to use Aquinas’ terms, is thereby “more than ever separated from God by unbelief, because he has not even true knowledge of God” (ST II–II 10.3).22 That unbelief suits the portrait of the recalcitrant fool in Prov 1:7 and 1:29, which in sum refer to God as the object of human action in the context of intellectual assent and refusal of knowledge. This suggests that “the fear of the Lord,” in these cases, reflects something like Aquinas’ theological virtue of faith.23 21

22 23

For Meinhold (Sprüche, 51), these intellectual possibilities are foregone by the “fools,” for whom wisdom and the Proverbial literature itself is inaccessible. Aquinas is not explicitly describing the “fool” here. Brown (Wisdom’s Wonder, 37) calls the “fear” in 1:7 a “comprehensive intellectual or cognitive virtue.” He acknowledges Aquinas’ contribution of the theological virtues at the outset of his book, but aside from Prov 1:7 makes little mention of Thomistic virtue as such. See also Dermot Cox, “Fear or Conscience? Yir’at yhwh in Proverbs 1–9,” in Studia Hierosolymitana. III. Nell’ottavo centenario francescano (1182–1982), ed. G. C. Bottini,

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Any doubt about the intellectual nature of “faith” in Proverbs 1 is erased by Prov 2:1–6, where intellectual assent continues with even more vigor as the Proverbial father admonishes his son to treasure his words.24 “If you receive my words” (2:1a) and “make your ear attentive to wisdom” (2:2a), he says, you will “understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God” (2:5). The Lord, moreover, “gives wisdom” and “from his mouth are knowledge and understanding” (2:6). The situation directs one to heed wise teaching and find the Lord, the source of wisdom, portraying an apprehension of God as the source of truth (cf. Job 28). By means of the father’s teaching, the son should acknowledge that the Lord bears wisdom, knowledge, and understanding, as he embarks on an intellectual assent that resembles the theological virtue of faith. The faith in these passages, however, differs from Aquinas’ virtue of faith with respect to content. While both faiths hold God as their object, Aquinas says that those with the theological virtue of faith assent, more precisely, to the articles of faith that are presented in documents like the Apostle’s Creed. Brian Davies writes that Aquinas “takes [faith] to be assent to the articles of faith . . . For him, faith is explicit belief in a series of propositions, ones that he takes to be suitably formulated in the Apostle’s Creed and the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed.”25 Offering a less particular interpretation of Aquinas, Stephen Brown clarifies that such articles may represent “Theological conclusions, drawn from revealed premises,” which “follow as explicit declarations of basic

24

25

Studium Biblicum Franciscanum, Collectio maior 30 (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1982), 83–90. Though overstated, there is an element of accuracy in the view that the “fear” of 1:7 is more emotional and perhaps rudimentary than the “fear” of 2:5. “At this stage,” says Fox (Proverbs 1–9, 70; so 110–111), “the pupil has progressed from unreflective fear to a cognitive awareness of what fear of God really is, and this is equivalent to knowledge of God. This is fear of God as conscience” (italics original). Yet this attests not so much to distinct types of fear in Proverbs 1 and 2 but more so to Proverbs treating its audience as integrated beings and elaborating on how the mind especially plays a role in the educational process. Brian Davies, Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae: A Guide and Commentary (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 230. According to ST II–II 1.8, Aquinas identifies 14 propositions or articles, summarized by Davies (Thomas, 231): “(1) God is one; (2) God is Father; (3) God is Son; (4) God is Holy Spirit; (5) God is the creator of all things; (6) God works for our sanctification; (7) God will raise us from the dead to everlasting life; (8) God became flesh in Christ; (9) God, in Christ, was born of a virgin; (10) God, in Christ, suffered, died, and was buried; (11) Christ descended into hell; (12) Christ was raised from the dead; (13) Christ ascended into heaven; (14) Christ will come again to judge.”

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theological principles or premises.”26 Whether Aquinas was referring to historical creedal statements or to broader theological principles, both explanations nevertheless suggest a rift between the content of faith in Proverbs and Aquinas. In Proverbs, humans assent to God as the source of truth, but this truth takes the form of, at least, “wisdom,” “instruction,” and the teachings contained in the book of Proverbs.27 At first glance, such contents do not mirror the theological principles found in the historic confessions and creeds, and it would be a far stretch to argue that Proverbs promotes faith in the triune personhood of God or the humanity of Christ as Aquinas would have understood it. That such doctrines may be distant, however, does not preclude us from identifying certain articles in Proverbs. The first article of faith attested by Aquinas refers to God’s unity: “By faith we hold many truths about God, which the philosophers were unable to discover by natural reason, for instance His providence and omnipotence, and that He alone is to be worshiped, all of which are contained in the one article of the unity of God” (ST II–II 1.8 ad 1). The article of God’s unity includes his providence, omnipotence, and human allegiance to him alone. Alongside God’s role as the dispenser of knowledge in Proverbs, stands his role as the paragon of sovereignty. Just after the claim that he sources knowledge (2:5–6) comes the remark that he is a “shield” for the upright and “guards” their way (2:7–8). This is Proverbs-speak for omnipotence and sovereignty, and the same, as shall be seen, holds true for Prov 3:5–12, which operates atop the premise that God alone deserves

26

27

Stephen F. Brown, “The Theological Virtue of Faith: An Invitation to an Ecclesial Life of Truth (IIa IIae, qq. 1–16),” in Pope, Ethics, 227. On the objection that the father’s teaching is not divine revelation, Tremper Longman III (Proverbs, BCOT [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006], 135) comments on Prov 3:1–12 that “if there is a difference between pursuing the father’s commands and those from Yahweh, it is insignificant.” The voice of the Lord and voice of the father harmonize as one in Proverbs 1–9, and such harmony persuades me that these “human” instructions hold the status of divine revelation. Longman (Proverbs, 101), however, also argues that in Prov 1:7, while the fool does have knowledge of some things he denies knowledge given by God not only through revelation but also through “experience, observation, and reason.” It is not clear what Longman means by “revelation” here but, I contend, that within Proverbs revelation would include, at least, communication (e.g., from the father or Wisdom) and other phenomena perceived by observation and reason (Prov 24:30–34), especially given that the book so affirmatively presents God as creator. Perceiving any of these forms of revelation constitutes an “experience,” making the distinction between “revelation” and “experience” unclear and unhelpful.

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allegiance and possesses supreme knowledge and power.28 In the context of admonishing the interpreter to assent to God in faith, Proverbs portrays God in a way that reflects the principles contained in Aquinas’ first article of faith.29 Although Proverbs does not include the entire set of creedal affirmations, the contents grasped by intellectual assent that it does mention cohere with Aquinas’ conceptions of faith as a theological virtue, a virtue that aligns closely with references in Prov 1:7, 29, and 2:1–6.

Proverbs 3:5–12 References to God as the object of human action recur in Prov 3:5–12 and begin to blend the categories of theological faith and hope. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and on your own understanding do not lean” (3:5); “In all your ways acknowledge him” (3:6a); “Be not wise in your own eyes” (3:7a). These lines refer to the son’s own “understanding” (3:5b) and “wisdom” (3:7a), concepts that obviously do not refer to God’s knowledge or explicitly identify him as the source of such understanding, and yet the remarks to “be not wise in your own eyes” or to “not lean on your own understanding” suggest some sort of problem with the son’s intellectual life. He risks feeling wise according to his own standard, and so the passage directs his attention to God: “in all your ways acknowledge him.” The affirmation to direct one’s attention to God, combined with the language of “wisdom” and “understanding” that in Proverbs 1–2 is supplied by him, reflects a concern with intellectual assent quite similar to Aquinas’ notion of faith.30 Proverbs 3:5–12 advises

28

29

30

It is not unhelpful to say that the object of knowledge in these opening chapters is “the work of God,” and that in view of his role as creator later on in Proverbs 1–9, the book calls for belief that he created and constantly governs the world (so Étienne-Noël Bassoumboul, Des sagesses à la sagesse: étude de l'unité sapientielle en Pr 1–9 [Paris: J. Gabalda, 2008], 46). Such a conclusion would have been reasonable to Aquinas given the additional fact that he recognizes progressive revelation. While the OT does not explicate Christ’s redeeming work it does reveal principles adequate for faith in God. Furthermore, Aquinas himself forwards the Wisdom of Solomon as evidence for his understanding of virtue (e.g., 8:7, 21 at ST I–II 63.2–3). See Joseph P. Wawrykow, “The Theological Virtues,” in The Oxford Handbook of Aquinas, ed. B. Davies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 291. Also ST II–II 2–7. Fox’s (Proverbs 1–9, 154) comment, that “none of the lecture’s [3:1–12] teachings require special intelligence, penetration, or intellectual effort to carry out,” assumes that knowledge about God is easily accessible to all. From Aquinas’ point of view,

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against assenting to one’s own knowledge and instead commends that one source it in God himself. This is not to completely intellectualize wisdom and understanding in Proverbs. Pointing to references of “fear of the Lord” in Prov 1:7, 29; 2:5 and 9:10, and their adjacent intellectual vocabulary that consequently makes “fear” an “intellectualized” concept, Joachim Becker has argued that Prov 3:5 and 3:7a do not intellectualize human action, since these passages omit such adjacent intellectual vocabulary.31 Proverbs 3:5–7 instead introduces a moral aspect to human behavior, an interpretation governed by the remark “turn from evil” in 3:7b.32 Becker’s notion of “intellectualized” still permits knowledge to imply moral behavior and supports the notion mentioned above that Proverbs binds the moral and intellectual.33 While Prov 3:7b might characterize “fearing the Lord” as a moral endeavor, it portrays this act in intellectual terms throughout Prov 3:5–7a. Proverbs 3:1 begins with the command to “not forget” the father’s teaching, and the warning about being “wise in your own eyes” (3:7a) also appears in Prov 12:15, where the moral and intellectual perspectives are combined – “The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice.” With the moral and intellectual aspects intertwined, a distinct intellectual activity nevertheless remains, giving evidence of the Thomistic notion of “faith.” Proverbs 3:5–7 also uses language reminiscent of Aquinas’ understanding of hope when it admonishes the son to “trust” the Lord and “acknowledge him.” While the son must recognize God as the source of true knowledge and the sole object of allegiance and must, therefore, exercise faith, it is based upon these truths that he must also trust in God, exercising what appears to be hope. “To ‘trust in’ (batah b-) God,” argues _ _ Fox, “does not mean faith as assent to a theological proposition. All derivatives of b-t-h imply a feeling of security and confidence in the _ _ fulfillment of expectation. To trust something is to believe that it can and will do what it is supposed to do.”34 The “faith” that Fox mentions, of course, is what Aquinas describes as “hope,” that trust in God which is encouraged in 3:5–7. The mention of wisdom in 3:7 and its absence elsewhere in Prov 3:1–12, coupled with the still present intellectual

31

32 34

acknowledging God and his activity as portrayed in Prov 3:1–12 requires a “special intelligence” in the theological sense, such as the illuminating work of the Holy Spirit. Joachim Becker, Gottesfurcht im Alten Testament, AnBib 25 (Rome: Päpstliches Bibelinstitut, 1965), 217. 33 Becker, Gottesfurcht, 222–223. Becker, Gottesfurcht, 219. Fox, Proverbs 1–9, 148.

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vocabulary, supports the case for the presence and integration of faith and hope as theological virtues in 3:5–7.35 In the verses that follow, that trust is coupled with the Lord providing future happiness and is confirmed in its identity as hope. Indeed, Proverbs grounds such trust on the basis that “it will be healing for your navel and refreshment for your bones” (3:8), and in 3:9–10 then promises that if the son honors God with his wealth, his resources will increase: “your barns will be full of plenty, and your vats will overflow with new wine” (3:10), an abundance located within a theological discussion that surely implies God as its provider.36 Trust in God, then, is trust not only that he will supply truth but that he will supply happiness. The admonitions in this text too depend upon premises of God’s supreme knowledge and sovereignty, premises constitutive of the confessional article of God’s unity, showing all the more that the content of faith in Proverbs, as well as the cognitive and volitional actions of humans, cohere with Aquinas’ criteria for theological virtue. Therefore, Prov 3:5–10 refers to the virtues of faith and, primarily, hope. The passage concludes with a third perspective on the human–divine relationship. “Do not despise the discipline of the Lord, and do not loathe his reproof. For the one the Lord loves, he reproves, like a father, the son in whom he delights” (Prov 3:11–12).37 In the first place, despising the Lord’s discipline (3:11a) does not equate to despising God himself. The Lord’s discipline is an “effect” of God rather than God as such, and as Aquinas says, humans do not hate God in his essence but in his effects, such as punishment, and in this case discipline (ST II–II 34.1).38 In the

35

36

37

38

On 3:1–12 as a whole, Dell (Proverbs, 97) observes the lack of reference to wisdom, which is mentioned only in a negative sense, and the stress placed upon trusting the Lord. So Longman, Proverbs, 134. The emendation of ‫“( שׁר‬navel”) to ‫שר‬ ׂ ‫ ב‬or otherwise for “flesh” is unnecessary (e.g., LXX). Based on Aramaic cognates, the lexeme may have a sense of “health” (so Driver, “Problems,” 175), but in view of its two other occurrences in the OT (Song 7:3; Ezek 16:4), it most likely means “navel” in Prov 3:8 and, like “bones,” may function as a synecdoche (on the lexeme, see Franz Delitzsch, Biblical Commentary on the Proverbs of Solomon, trans. M. G. Easton [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1880], 1:88). As for the logical relation of 3:9 and 3:10, the imperative (v. 9) followed by a waw + yiqtol (v. 10) signals a connection of consequence in this case. If the son honors the Lord with his wealth then God will fill his barns with plenty. The LXX reads 3:12b as “scourges every son whom he receives.” For a competent justification of retaining the MT, see Clifford, Proverbs, 50. The discipline of Prov 3:11–12 should be differentiated from deserved punishment. The text does not say whether the child deserves discipline but instead reassures him of its source and aim. The juxtaposition with the profits of 3:8–10 suggest that unexpected and perhaps undeserved reproof are in view here (so Whybray, Proverbs, 64), though that is

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second place, Prov 3:12 states that the Lord “loves” those whom he reproves, like a father who delights in his son. Such affectionate language, along with the implication that the son might despise God’s activity, couches 3:11–12 into the context of Thomistic charity. Thomistic charity, though, features a human–divine friendship, which, in Proverbs, seems stained by references to God’s discipline and the son’s loathing. How can Prov 3:11–12 attest to charity when it is muddled with reproof from and hatred for God? Two points resolve the problem. First, Aquinas’ distinction between imperfect and perfect love clarifies the perspective of Proverbs. Imperfect love wishes good to another in order, ultimately, to wish this good to oneself. Perfect love, in contrast, wishes good to another even if nothing good falls to oneself (II–II 17.3). Proverbs 3:11–12 attempts to turn the son away from a posture of imperfect love toward a perfect love for God. For imperfect love would expect a return of only pleasurable good from God, and by forwarding the warning it does the text assumes this attitude of the son, who may not be struck with the pleasurableness of God’s love given that it includes discipline. This possible displeasure explains why the son would need to hear the statements about God’s reproof being couched within his fatherly love. The boy may despise God because unpleasurable events have been occurring in life, but he should rest assured that God nevertheless loves him and that what seems unpleasurable might actually be evidence of God’s good love. Although the text does not explicitly admonish the son to “love” God, the evidence suggests that instead of “despising” the Lord the son ought to love him. He is directed away from loathing God, in his presupposition that love always entails good for oneself, and toward a perfect love that would wish good to God regardless of what returns. A second factor that clarifies how charity may appear in 3:11–12 amidst remarks about reproof and hatred are the effects of charity. Aquinas mentions joy, peace, mercy, beneficence, almsgiving, and fraternal correction (ST II–II 28–33), and it is the last of these – fraternal correction – that corresponds to the discipline found in Prov 3:11–12 – “For the one the Lord loves, he reproves.” From a Thomistic perspective, discipline is an effect of charity and should flow from it, a premise that sits well with the Lord’s love and consequent reproof in Prov 3:11–12. The effects of charity also bolster the presence of love in 3:9–10. For the not to say that discipline is always undeserved in Proverbs (26:3; on this, see Stewart, Poetic Ethics, esp. 84–88). “It is necessary to warn students,” says Clifford (Proverbs, 53), “that ease and security are not automatic results of divine favor.”

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command to “honor the Lord with your wealth” assumes that love for God instigates almsgiving. But that generosity is explicitly related to God unlike the giving Aquinas has in mind, which is directed toward other humans. This apparent tension is overcome in view of the broader OT context of Proverbs, which indicates that the reference to “honor the Lord with your wealth” connotes priestly personnel as recipients. Interpreted in view of the Pentateuch, Prov 3:9–10 presumes the commandments in Deut 18:3–4, which instruct God’s people to give their firstfruits to the Levitical priests who then serve the community in sacrifice, arbitration, and teaching.39 Honoring the Lord with one’s wealth, therefore, includes giving to the Levitical priests, showing that Proverbs, like Aquinas, correlates love for God with generosity to others. As a final piece of evidence, the NT book of Hebrews leaves little doubt that God’s discipline in Prov 3:11–12 sits within a context of affection, as charity would. Hebrews 12:5b–6 quotes this passage and emphatically addresses the church as “sons” of God: “God is treating you as sons . . . he disciplines us for our advantage, to share in his holiness” (12:7, 10). Not only does discipline legitimate a familial relation to God, it aims to improve those whom he loves; God’s discipline is beneficent. Through implication and explication, Prov 3:11–12 portrays a relationship of love between a human and God, what Aquinas would call the theological virtue of charity. References to the Lord in Prov 1:7, 29; 2:5–6, and 3:5–12 show God as the object of human action. The passages fundamentally exhibit assent to, trust in, and love for God, meeting Aquinas’ criteria for theological virtue to warrant the conclusion that the actions in Proverbs are such virtues. This conclusion, however, does not settle so well on two accounts. Proverbs 3:11–12 portrays the human–divine relationship within a scenario not of perfected friendship but of friendship on a trajectory from imperfect to improved. Second, the “goods” promised in 3:5–10 constitute earthly, material benefits rather than heavenly treasures. Whilst the first was partly addressed, the second remains untouched, and both apparent problems prompt a need for more clarity regarding the theological horizon of Proverbs and how Aquinas views such horizons in relation to theological virtues.

39

C. John Collins, “Proverbs and the Levitical System,” Presbyterion 35 (2009): 9–34, esp. 16–17. On the textual relationships here, see Weeks, Instruction and Imagery in Proverbs 1–9 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 102–105.

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The “Good” in Aquinas and Proverbs 1–3 Aquinas claims that theological virtues aspire to the “infinite good,” that is, “eternal life” or the “enjoyment of God himself” (ST II–II 17.2), which most likely includes “eschatological realities” like resurrection and a vision of God.40 The passages from Proverbs examined here do show God providing happiness, in the form of protection (2:7–8) and material goods (3:9–10) for instance, but the hope and love of these texts do not seem to divulge the “infinite good” that Aquinas requires for theological virtue. There is no resurrection, nor are there any eschatological realities.41 So in the absence of such good, how can these passages contain theological virtues, especially hope and charity? That objection, I contend, would not hamper Aquinas. He would recognize the concepts as virtues. First, Aquinas reiterates that theological virtues are theological because their object is God, and in each of the biblical texts, God is the object of human action. Second, Aquinas makes concession to the fact that the infinite good is not completely attainable in this life. According to him, “A certain participation in Happiness can be had in this life; but perfect and true Happiness cannot be had in this life” (ST I–II 5.3).42 So while resurrection and a beatific vision constitute the proper objects of hope, they are not attainable in this life and thereby make room for another type of good. Within the bounds of present human existence, Aquinas indicates that “one can rely on theological hope for temporal goods, such as holy friends, good health, psychological equilibrium, at least to the extent that these things conduce toward beatitude.”43 Aquinas recognizes the tension between hope during the present life and hope during eternal life, as one seems restricted to the “perishable” and the other makes demands of an “infinite” character. Hence the temporal, earthly goods are accommodated as objects of hope so long as they serve as a means to God, the greater and final object of hope. It is these earthly goods, like physical health, that appear in Proverbs. For those who exhibit hope there primarily trust God not for eternal 40 41

42 43

See Cessario, “Hope,” 236. Waltke (Proverbs 1–15, 248) hints at eschatological rewards in 3:10 when he cites Mark 10:29–30, where Jesus promises a hundredfold reward, in this life and the age to come, for those who make sacrifices for his sake and for the gospel. That is not to say that Proverbs knows nothing of goods that may push the boundaries of the present life. See Prov 11:7; 12:28; 14:32; 23:17–18 and discussion below. For secondary causes to happiness, see ST II–II 17.4; QV 12 ad 7. Cessario, “Hope,” 236. See ST II–II 17.1; cf. II–II 17.2 ad 2.

178

Theological Virtues in Proverbs

happiness but for a spread of goods on earth, including straight paths (3:6), bodily health (3:8), and economic resources (3:10). While Proverbs might not depict the purest version of hope, the kind that the apostle Paul will describe as resurrection and a vision of God, it does envision God as the object of human trust for obtaining goods that are acknowledged by Aquinas to be within the realm of theological virtue. Proverbs portrays human trust in God within an earthly theological horizon, and in Prov 3:5–12, therefore, hope is a theological virtue that targets temporal goods without necessitating an additional “infinite good.” The same reasoning accounts for the sketch of charity in Proverbs, which seems void of its definitive eschatological associations and instead a matter of God conveying earthly care. Charity is, most basically, God’s “communication” with humans, and as Eberhard Schockenhoff says, “communicatio means a sharing and commonality that consists in the fact that the Triune God gives everyone His own beatitude and calls people to participate in His divine life.”44 This comment defines charity in a way reminiscent of imitatio Dei, where “communication” entails partaking of God’s beatitude and life. But that is not explicit in Prov 3:5–12, most likely because Proverbs places love not upon an eschatological horizon but within the present, earthly life, so that Prov 3:5–12 presents a divine–human friendship that incorporates pre-eschatological realities, like the Lord’s loving discipline, and the goods of health and fat barns, instead of an eschatological participation in divine life and character. Despite the lack of an eschatological horizon in Prov 3:5–12, Proverbs’ earthly horizon nevertheless accommodates imitatio Dei. Zoltan Schwab has broached questions about the moral horizon of Proverbs by considering Aquinas’ criteria regarding self-interest and the way that Proverbs orders life’s ends.45 Schwab’s aims, different than my own, explain his choice of concepts that are not strictly virtue-related (e.g., “worldview”). However, focusing on Proverbs 2, he finds evidence of “worldview,” “trust,” and “action” that correspond with Thomistic moral theology, and his exegesis of that chapter, especially 2:5 and the “knowledge of God,” accounts for the “earthly” horizon of Proverbs. The earthly, imperfect knowledge of God was crucial for Thomas’ moral theology, and, as we have just seen, very much in line with Proverbs’ understanding of the knowledge of God: both include a certain worldview, an understanding of God’s

44

Schockenhoff, “Charity,” 247.

45

See Schwab, Toward an Interpretation, 108–159.

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providential actions, and also a life accompanied by actions that are in accordance with this worldview. In this respect we should also note that for Thomas, just as for Proverbs, this (earthly) knowledge of God is connected to the theme of imitatio dei.46

Not only does Aquinas accommodate the imperfect, earthly context of human action, his moral theology coheres with an interpretation of Proverbs in which humans who know God also act similarly to God. This framework supports the connection in Prov 3:5–12 between theological faith and hope and a relationship with God, as well as the plausible inclusion of a participation in divine behavior within the present, earthly context. In other words, the earthly horizon of Prov 3:5–12 does not invalidate what looks like charity from being a theological virtue, even if conceived of in terms of imitatio Dei. The claims and contexts of Proverbs 1–3 align closely with Aquinas’ theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. In addition to exhibiting the accurate characteristics of theological virtues, the biblical material exhibits the generative order of virtues as described by Aquinas. For Proverbs begins with intellectual assent to God as the source of truth (1:7, 29; 2:5–6; 3:5). It transitions to trusting him as the giver of happiness (3:5–10) and concludes with a relationship of love that assures the human of God’s goodness (3:11–12).47 These concepts in Proverbs furthermore cohere with the vices of theological virtue, such as unbelief and hatred, and they weather objections stemming from the importance of historical creeds in Aquinas’ understanding of “faith” and the temporal, earthly horizon of Proverbial hope and charity.

Proverbs 30:1–9 Proverbs 30:1–9 attests to the same quality and order of theological virtues that appear in Proverbs 1–3.48 It follows the final collection of proverbs and begins the book’s penultimate chapter, where the figure Agur laments his lack of knowledge, reflects on the quality of God’s words, and requests goods from him. In Prov 30:1b–3, Agur states,

46 47

48

Schwab, Toward an Interpretation, 146. Both the quality and order of theological virtues in Prov 3:21, 26 affirm this. Because the son possesses (the Lord’s) wisdom (3:21; i.e. faith), he can remain confident in the Lord (3:26; i.e. hope), who communicates good to those to whom it is due (3:27; i.e. charity). The final form of Prov 30:1–9 is coherent (so Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 850–851), though not everyone thinks so (for discussion, see Ansberry, Be Wise, 163–164; and Fox).

180

Theological Virtues in Proverbs I am weary, O God;49 I am weary, O God, and wasted away. For I am too brutish for a man; and I do not have the understanding of a man; And I have not learned wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One I do not know.50

Agur has not attained the pedagogical goals of Proverbs.51 He declares his weariness, stupidity, lack of knowledge, and failure to learn wisdom, statements that reflect a failed intellectual journey further evident in the language of “knowledge,” “stupidity,” and “[learning] wisdom.” Moreover, Agur has not obtained “knowledge of the holy one.” As “the holy one,” God stands as an object of knowledge and along with wisdom constitutes the object of Agur’s intellectual endeavor. Instead of praising the accomplishments of a faith that intellectually assents to the Lord as in Proverbs 1–3, Prov 30:1–3 exposes the words of a man who falls short of such accomplishment. In summary, Agur expresses a frustrated theological virtue of faith. That faith is found less frustrated in the first colon of Prov 30:5. “Every word of God,” says Agur, “is refined [‫]צרופה‬.” The lexeme ‫ צרף‬often refers to God refining a community like precious metals, purifying them from wicked people (Jer 6:29) and for moral improvement (Zech 13:9; cf. Ps 26:2; 66:10). When predicated to God’s words, it parallels adjectives like “clean” (Ps 12:7[6]) and “blameless” (Ps 18:31[30]), rendering his words attractive (Ps 119:140). Some translations opt for “truth” in Prov 30:5 (ESV; NLT), but “purified” or “refined” (cf. KJV; NASB) is consistent with the use of ‫ צרף‬elsewhere, and each of these options captures the point 49

50

51

For the “utterance,” see Num 24:3, 15; 2 Sam 23:1. The oddity of a repeated “to Ithiel,” and the clause starting with ‫ כי‬in v. 2, which supposes a prior statement, favors the majority interpretation presented above (so Delitzsch, Proverbs, 2:269). The meaning of ‫ ֻאָכל‬is unknown, and revocalizing it as a form of ‫ כלה‬renders a sensible translation, hence the LXX’s καὶ παύομαι (see Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 850, 853–854). Proverbs 30:3 reads: ‫ולא־למדתי חכמה ודעת קדשׁים אדע‬. The interpretive question here is how to translate the second colon. The first translates, “I have not learned wisdom,” which follows v. 2b – “I do not have the understanding of a man” – with a waw that continues to enumerate Agur’s explanation signaled by ‫ כי‬in v. 2a. He says, “[v. 2] For I am too brutish for a man, and I do not have the understanding of a man; [v. 3a] and I have not learned wisdom.” The sequence makes a negative in the final line plausible: “[v. 3b] and I [do not] know knowledge of the Holy One.” Negating the verb suits the grammatical context and flow of thought in 30:1–4, also corresponding to the acknowledgment that concludes 30:4 in response to the verse’s series of questions: “Surely you know.” This choice finds further support in clear examples where a negative particle in the initial line governs an unmarked second line (Isa 38:18; Ps 9:19 [18]; 35:19). For this argument, see Keefer, Proverbs 1–9.

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that God’s words are free of falsehood. Realizing that these refined words contrast with the deficiency of his own knowledge, Agur resorts to the superior quality of God’s words and, in Aquinas’ terms, intellectually assents to God’s truth. The second colon of 30:5 transitions from intellectual assent to volitional trust. For “[God] is a shield to those who take refuge in him.” He is the object of trust for obtaining the goods of protection and security,52 and as an act of trust taking refuge in him connotes the virtue of hope, albeit again within the bounds of Proverbs’ earthly horizon. Referring to God as a “shield” also suggests that he possesses supreme sovereignty, at least in Agur’s judgment, and attests to the confessional article of God’s unity. When such sovereignty is added to God’s superior knowledge from the first colon, Agur must intellectually assent to principles found in Aquinas’ first article of faith: divine providence and omnipotence. The connection of knowledge and oversight in Prov 30:5 is captured well by Longman: “By describing the speeches of God in this way, [Agur] is encouraging people to avail themselves of their help in the midst of human ignorance.”53 Human ignorance accounts for the intellectual aspect of Prov 30:5 (i.e. faith), and the help of God’s words accounts for the transition to hope therein, two features of Prov 30:5 that corroborate the presence and order of theological virtues in Prov 30:1–9. The final verses of Prov 30:1–9 move from hope to charity. Two things I ask from you, Do not withhold [them] from me before I die; Make distant from me falsehood and a lying word. Give me neither poverty nor riches; Feed me my prescribed bread. Lest I be full and renounce [you], And say, “Who is the Lord?” Or lest I come to poverty and steal, And misuse the name of my God. (30:7–9)

52

53

More specifically, God’s words may be in view here as the object of trust, given that in colon A “Every word of God is refined.” This interpretation is taken by Magne Sæbø, Sprüche, ATD 16 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2012), 365: “He is concerned, therefore, with showing undemanding loyalty and reliability, which is in accordance with the reliable word of God; he wants to set his hope on the ‘speech of God’.” Sæbø is rightly interested in the relation of wisdom to Agur’s comments about being neither hungry nor sated with life’s goods, and as discussed in Chapter 3 I would highlight humility as a part of wisdom throughout Proverbs 30. Longman, Proverbs, 524.

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Theological Virtues in Proverbs

The presence of charity as a theological virtue in this text depends upon its relational language and its references to good. In the first place, Agur requests goods. He wants falsehood and lies extricated from his presence (30:8a), and desires no share in poverty or riches (30:8b) but instead basic sustenance (30:8c).54 His requests assume trust in the Lord as the giver and withholder of resources, as one who can feed him or starve him, fill his coffers or empty them, and that attitude resembles the theological virtue of hope. Moreover, hope can entail difficulty when obtaining good (ST II–II 17.1), and Agur’s tone throughout the passage indicates that goods do not come easily: he is “weary,” desperate, and repeatedly petitionary.55 The content of goods in 30:8, however, again provokes a question about the nature of hope and raises a potential objection. Agur trusts the Lord for protection (30:5) and daily sustenance (30:8–9), not for a postdeath vision of God and other infinite goods. His hope, that is, remains upon earthly soil rather than eternal terrain. But as seen in Prov 3:5–12, Aquinas accommodates earthly goods within his understanding of theological hope. Therefore, the protection and resources for which Agur trusts God here and in 30:5 do not compromise the quality of hope that appears in Prov 30:1–9 or prevent an inquiry into the theological virtue of charity in this passage. In the second place, Agur fears that the economic extremes of riches and poverty will cause him to act wrongly toward God. With riches, he might deny the Lord; without them, he might steal and “misuse” or “profane” God’s name. In his fear of “misusing” the Lord’s name, Agur anticipates his disconnect from God and indicates his desire to maintain a right relationship. Implying a right relationship with God does not equate to declaring “love” for God. But Agur does mention affections that contrast with love, suggesting that he desires some intimacy with the Lord: “Lest I be full and renounce [you], and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’ Or lest I come to poverty and steal, and misuse the name of my God” (30:9; cf. Isa 8:21; 59:12–13). Denial and profanation of God’s name

54

55

According to Eckart Otto (Theologische Ethik des Alten Testaments [Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1994], 158), Agur relativizes the pursuits of optimal life success in favor of modesty. This modesty, though, is driven most of all by Agur’s fear of misusing the Lord’s name, hence cola B and D of 30:9, and perhaps the connection of ‫שוא‬ ׁ (“falsehood/vanity”) with taking the Lord’s name in vain (on the latter, see Whybray, Proverbs, 411–412). Aquinas’ condition that the good of hope is possible but difficult to obtain does not always come to the fore in Proverbs. The sayings examined in this chapter at times suggest that obtaining hope’s good is challenging, but most do not give enough evidence to decide. Cf. the discussion of Prov 10:3 and 25:21–22 below.

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183

resemble the hatred for God that Aquinas posits as the antithesis of theological charity. Such statements of affection against God made within the context of Agur hoping in him to supply good amount to the communication of happiness that is the theological virtue of charity. Therefore, Prov 30:7–9 implies that Thomistic charity is at stake. The words of Prov 30:1–9 evince human actions toward God that constitute or imply the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, as Agur bemoans his failed intellectual journey, finds security in the trustworthy words of God, requests goods from him, and implies at least a desire for a loving relationship. Two of the obstacles addressed in this section will reappear in the next. First, the content of faith for Aquinas, albeit sourced in God, corresponds to creedal statements. Rather than differing from the content of faith in Proverbs, the article of God’s unity lies at the foundation of the passages examined here. Second, while the content of the good in Prov 3:5–12 and 30:1–9 raises further doubts about the Thomistic nature of these “theological virtues,” Aquinas himself makes room for less-than-eternal contents of happiness. The goods of Proverbs, earthly though they are, depend upon the Lord for their acquisition and therefore do not hinder the conclusion that Proverbs includes the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. Having established the presence of these virtues in the bookends of Proverbs, what can be said about the material in Proverbs 10–29?

human action in proverbs 10–29 Certain sayings and short poems of Proverbs 10–29 refer to the Lord as the object of human action, that first and fundamental criterion for Aquinas’ theological virtues. Ten passages explicitly articulate faith or hope and treat these concepts in a way that meets the particular criteria. An additional five proverbs give evidence of theological virtues but do so on a latent level, as these virtues are implied by brief comments regarding humans and the Lord. The passages selected here represent the clearest and strongest examples of theological virtues in Proverbs 10–29. Faith in God At least three sayings concern intellectual assent to God: Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the Lord understand everything. (Prov 28:5)

184

Theological Virtues in Proverbs A strong man’s steps are from the Lord;56 how can a human understand his way? (Prov 20:24) That your trust might be in the Lord,57 I have made you know [these teachings], today, even you. (Prov 22:19)

Each of these proverbs portrays God as the source of knowledge and connects this portrait with the intellectual action of humans. Proverbs 28:5 presents a contrast in “understanding” (‫)בין‬, a word used in both cola, and sets an intellectual context for human action. “Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the Lord understand everything.” “Everything” follows the reference to “justice” and therefore most likely means “everything with respect to justice.”58 Those who seek the Lord understand justice fully, while those who are evil do not. Within this intellectual context, both human parties are defined by their relationship to God, as the commendable group “seeks” the Lord, and evil people, as the saying implies through contrast, do not. Proverbs 28:5 presents God as the object of human action in the context of intellectual pursuit. The outcome of these actions is understanding or a lack of it. The assertion that humans pursue God and understand justice implies that because they pursue God, they understand justice. Conversely, those who do not pursue God, i.e. the evil men, do not attain understanding. The proverb is certainly concerned to show that the Lord grants justice itself, but as Otto Plöger says, God here fundamentally gives “insight” (Einsicht).59 For evil men “do not understand justice” whilst others “understand everything,” a clear association of justice and understanding as opposed to justice and impartiality or justice and fair speech or justice and generosity. By mentioning “everything” in verse 5b and leaving the qualifier “about justice” unstated, Prov 28:5 shows more concern with God’s gift of knowledge than with his gift of justice. For it may have drawn more or equal attention to justice by specifying that evil men 56

57 58

59

The lexeme ‫ גבר‬need not refer to anything other than “a man” but it can carry a sense of “strong man” or “a man in his strength” (cf. Prov 6:34; 30:19 and its verbal form in the qal), which makes better sense in conjunction with the “man” (‫ )אדם‬of colon B. The term ‫“( בטח‬trust”) here may also convey “confidence.” I am not sure, then, that “to understand justice” means “to be wise or act wisely as in Job 32:9” (Clifford, Proverbs, 244). In that passage, being wise does occur in juxtaposition to understanding justice, but that need only imply that justice is a part of being wise, not that they are equivalent. Plöger, Sprüche, 333.

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“do not understand justice” and those who seek the Lord “understand it,” but the saying lexically expands the object of knowledge to “everything [about justice]” and thereby accentuates the seeker’s cognitive ability. This should not be taken to mean that “understanding” justice refers only to an intellectual grasp of it, since in the world of Proverbs those who understand justice certainly practice and promote it.60 In this case the contrast of people, defined by their relationship to the Lord, and the shared verb “understand” portray the two sides of Thomistic faith: some humans intellectually assent to the Lord; others dissent from him. Both activities assume a primary axiom of this theological virtue, that God is the source of human understanding. Proverbs 20:24 also refers to human understanding by posing a question: How can a human understand his way? The point is that he cannot, and like 28:5 this proverb presents God as the arbiter of knowledge within the context of human intellectual activity. The “human” here contrasts with a strong man who appears in the initial line: “a strong man’s steps are from the Lord.” This line features human volition rather than the intellect per se since it focuses on the Lord’s determination.61 He controls the “steps” of the strong man, who would then seem more interested to take charge of his life than to understand it. Despite the volitional focus of line one, the reference to “understanding” in the second still champions the human intellect: “how can a human understand his way?” For if the Lord determines even the strong man’s steps, it seems near impossible that an average human could understand his own way.

60

61

Meinhold (Sprüche, 469) draws attention to the fact that in Prov 21:7 the wicked refuse “to do what is just” and so “Here [in 28:5] they do not understand it in its claim, namely to be obeyed. If, on the other hand, those who seek YHWH understand everything, that is not meant as intellectual but as religious-moral. ‘Everything’ means ‘good and evil,’ which includes the useful and the harmful and, consequently, everything that is right.” But even if understanding results in right action, that does not negate its intellectual prerequisite. The most intriguing aspect about what exactly “everything [about justice]” entails is the repeated reference to the “law” (‫ )תורה‬in Proverbs 25 (vv. 4, 7, 9). Perhaps the one with understanding hears and keeps divine instruction. On the superiority of God’s desire and power in Proverbs, using this passage and others, see Hans Heinrich Schmid, Wesen und Geschichte der Weisheit: eine Untersuchung zur altorientalischen und israelitischen Weisheitsliteratur, BZAW 101 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1966), 145–148. Schmid offers helpful categories for God’s action in Proverbs but does so at the expense of human agency. Surely these sayings have an implication for human beings, who themselves must respond to even the most determinative expressions about the Lord’s sovereignty.

186

Theological Virtues in Proverbs

God’s activity with the strong man carries implications for the average human. If God determines the strong man’s steps, then he governs a human’s life with power and therefore with knowledge. The “steps” – that is, the life or “way” – that God determines must also be known by him and hence require his knowledge to exceed that of a human’s. From this standpoint, “How can a human understand his way?”62 The question implies that God, not the human, possesses supreme knowledge, so that a person cannot make sense of his life-path, not at least without God. In view of such supremacy, Fox concludes that the proverb “implicitly counsels trust in God.”63 This trust, first, arises from the limitations of human knowledge and, second, from the supremacy of God’s, meaning that what Fox calls “trust” here is not so much Thomistic hope as it is an intellectual assent to God. The human opens his mind to the Lord for understanding, acknowledging that any intelligence owned by any mortal comes from God. In Prov 28:5 and 20:24 the grammatical object of the intellect is not God, and yet that is the apparent requirement of theological virtue. Human understanding is instead directed toward justice and the “way,” objects that do not appear in the articles of faith espoused by Aquinas, which are the proper objects of faith as a theological virtue, and therefore seem to nullify what I have called “faith” in these proverbs. The objection reveals a difference between the two moral worlds. Proverbs does give evidence of faith as a theological virtue as it portrays humans making an intellectual assent to God as the source of truth. However, the content of that truth at times differs from what is strictly contained in the creedal articles. In the two examples examined here, the content of Proverbial faith includes “justice,” everything about it, and the person’s “way,” to suggest that Proverbs alters the scope of faith by incorporating these objects into the purview of knowledge supplied by God. That scope of faith relates to the book’s lack of distinction between concepts that are significant for Aquinas’ understanding of virtue. He distinguishes between acquired and infused virtues based upon the measure and purpose of their respective actions.64 One type contributes to civil life and is measured by the good it does for society, while the other contributes to spiritual life

62

63 64

The “way” here could refer to God’s way. But the reference to a “strong man’s steps” in the first colon indicates that “his way” is the “human’s way.” Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 674. See Cessario, Moral Virtues, 102–113. His distinction applies also to acquired and infused moral virtues, though I only have the theologically infused in mind here.

Human Action in Proverbs 10–29

187

and spiritual community based on the good of eternal life. Acquired virtues increase through human actions; infused virtues increase by God (ST I–II 61–65). In Proverbs, all “virtue” and all truth come from God, albeit mediated by teachers, and humans cultivate “virtues” through both action and divine power. The acquired–infused distinction is only implicit in Proverbs, which instead presents virtues as cultivated by God and humans simultaneously. Consequently, the objects of faith are supplied by God but include those of an “acquired” type, such as the justice in Prov 28:5.65 In Aquinas’ view, the actions of “faith” in these proverbs take objects appropriate to theological virtue even though these objects are not always God himself. John Barton argues that the OT does not explicitly advocate “right thought,” which might level an objection to these examples of intellectual assent in Proverbs.66 Though many OT examples warn against saying false things “in your heart” (e.g., Isa 47:7), Barton “cannot find an example where someone is actually commended for ‘saying in their heart’ what is true . . . Belief in the sense of trust is certainly much stressed [e.g., Ps 37:3] . . . But belief in the sense of intellectual affirmation of certain theological propositions is not much stressed.”67 Barton affirms that people in ancient Israel did assent to various propositions about God, for example “that God is one” or that “God guided the people of Israel from Egypt into the Promised Land; or that it is God who gives fertility and prosperity,” but no evidence supports explicit intellectual assent to “certain theological propositions.” For “there does not seem to be any great premium placed on overtly affirming these things or making declarations about them.”68 Based on my Thomistic interpretation of Proverbs, however, I would argue that we have more evidence than Barton thinks. I am unclear as to how “explicit” an example must be to commend “right thought,” but the overall points of Prov 28:5 and 20:24 correspond to Aquinas’ understanding of faith. These proverbs implicitly advocate assent to God as supremely knowledgeable, an affirmation of his unity as expressed in the first article of faith and certainly not inconsistent with “intellectual affirmation of certain theological propositions.” As a final piece of evidence, attesting to both faith and hope, Prov 22:19 corroborates and also exemplifies how some proverbs complement an

65

66

This is not to say that justice in Proverbs means the same thing as justice in the Summa. My remarks here assume only that both concepts contribute to the good of an earthly society. 67 68 Barton, Ethics, 166. Barton, Ethics, 166–167. Barton, Ethics, 166.

188

Theological Virtues in Proverbs

understanding of faith with notions of trust. It commands the interpreter to heed the book’s teachings, but then indicates that such attention serves the purpose of trusting in the Lord. Teachings are “made known” so that “your trust might be in the Lord.” Hence an intellectual assent to the book’s teaching cultivates a trust in God, transitioning from the theological virtue of faith to the virtue hope. The “teachings” referred to here, which lead to trust in God, also align with God as the source of knowledge. “Conscience and religious awareness,” writes Fox, “come through wisdom because God is its source. We might capture the emphasis by placing ‘the Lord’ in italics: it is ultimately he and no other who gives wisdom.”69 In Prov 22:19, therefore, the Lord stands as the provider of knowledge to which humans assent and as the object of hope that humans consequently trust.70 When paired with the book’s desire that its readers would absorb these teachings and pass them on to teachable pupils (1:1–6), perhaps there is some level of overt affirmation if not declaration of theological propositions therein.71 Proverbs 28:5 and 20:24 have met Aquinas’ criteria for the theological virtue of faith, and 22:19 also incorporates notions of hope, prompting a look at other evidence of this virtue in Proverbs.

Hope in God Five passages in Proverbs 10–29 clearly portray human trust in God: Commit your works to the Lord,72 and your plans will be established. (16:3; also 16:9)

69

70

71

72

Fox, Proverb 1–9, 113. Interestingly, the notion of God as the source of knowledge and teaching sets Proverbs apart from ancient Egyptian instructional literature, which at most indirectly recognizes God as the source of wisdom, though not of teachings as such (114). Although justified, I have pulled apart what Diethart Römheld (Wege der Weisheit: Die Lehren Amenemopes und Proverbien 22,17–24,22, BZAW 184 [Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1989], 154) elegantly puts together: “YHWH-trust is, like wisdom, teachable, and YHWH’s behavior in this world is reliable and insightful.” Wise behavior is not replaced by trust in God; wisdom and a relationship with God are, rather, identified with each other. Proverbs 1:1–7 tenders the material of Proverbs as something to be learned and also calls its audience to target the untutored “youth” and “simpletons” with that learning. For more on this, see Keefer, “A Shift in Perspective.” The qal ‫ גלל‬need not be emended to ‫( גלע‬Meinhold, Sprüche, 266), and the evidence does not permit us to say that it means “to make one’s plans congruent with God’s will” (Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 609). The line woodenly reads, “Roll your works to the Lord,” using language that clearly connotes “entrust” or “commit” (Ps 37:5; cf. 22:8–10) and when

Human Action in Proverbs 10–29

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Your heart shall not envy sinners, but rather those who fear the Lord all the day.73 Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off. (23:17–18) Whoever considers a word will find good, and blessed is he who trusts in the Lord. (16:20) Do not say, “I will repay evil.” Wait for the Lord, and he will deliver you. (20:22) A greedy man stirs up strife, but the one who trusts in the Lord is enriched. (28:25; also 29:25)

Proverbs 16:20 and 28:25 most blatantly support a Thomistic understanding of hope. They use the language of “trusting” (‫ )בוטח‬in the Lord and attribute blessing and enrichment to those who do so. Hence, “blessed is he who trusts in the Lord” (16:20b), and “the one who trusts in the Lord is enriched” (28:25b). Trust in the Lord here correlates with receiving good things from him, like being “blessed” or “enriched,” and goes to show that these proverbs meet the basic criteria for the virtue of hope. Proverbs 23:17–18 makes this point less explicitly. The interpreter should envy, even desire to be like, “those who fear the Lord all the day,” and she should do so because of an unwavering promise: “surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off.” Regardless of what “fearing the Lord” means exactly, the proverb directs one’s will toward God with the assurance that God will supply a future good.74 The goods from the first two proverbs (16:20; 28:25) are not specific enough to compare with Aquinas’ criteria for types of goods. “Blessing” parallels “finding good” in 16:20, which may very well refer to some blessed afterlife, but it is not clear, and the “enrichment” in 28:25 offers no

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negated means “take away” (Josh 5:9). ‫ גל‬contributes to a phonic pattern created by the repeated ‫ כל‬in 16:2–5 (Scherer, Das weise Wort, 194). On this verse, see discussion above. The lexemes for “future” (‫ )אחרית‬and “hope” (‫)תקוה‬, especially when they occur together, refer to positive prospects (e.g., Prov 24:14, 20; Jer 29:11).

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help.75 However, Prov 23:17–18 broaches the possibility that at least one good in Proverbs extends beyond the earthly context. The promise of a future ( ‫ )כי אם־ישׁאחרית‬and that the God-fearer’s hope “will not be cut off” suggest a life beyond the grave, but no more detail than that.76 Where Prov 16:20; 23:17–18, and 28:25 present hope explicitly, Prov 20:22 and 16:3 attest to the virtue implicitly. Proverbs 20:22 prohibits the interpreter from seeking vengeance by his or her own power and timing: “Do not say, ‘I will repay evil’.” Instead, “wait for the Lord, and he will deliver you.” To “wait for the Lord” requires one to trust in God, and the assertion that he will deliver those who wait shows him as the source of good. By standing by for the Lord to deliver, the human trusts in God’s help, as Fox observes: “By trusting God . . . a man enlists God’s aid to defeat one’s enemies.”77 Proverbs 20:22, therefore, exhibits the primary components of Aquinas’ theological virtue of hope: human trust in God to supply a good. The hope of Prov 20:22, though, can go wrong, and that error corroborates the presence of Thomistic virtue therein. The action condemned by the proverb correlates to presumption, which, according to Aquinas, goes wrong in two ways. On the one hand it presumes that God will supply good sooner or in greater measure than he wills, and on the other hand it might also involve overreaching for good: “As to the hope whereby a man relies on his own power, there is presumption if he tends to a good as though it were possible to him” (ST II–II 21.1). This sort of presumption appears in 20:22 among any reader who declares that “I will repay evil.” 75

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The phrase “find good” (16:20) also occurs in 17:20; 18:22 and 19:8. Meinhold (Sprüche, 274–275) points to several features that connect Prov 16:20–24 – there is a pattern of ‫ מ‬and ‫ ל‬that begins each consecutive verse (vv. 20–23), the “wise heart” (vv. 21, 23), the root ‫שכל‬ ׂ (vv. 20, 22, 23), and references to speech. Interestingly, these connections do not seem to inform his understanding of what the “good” in 16:20b refers to, which he instead associates with “joy, happiness, prosperity.” Plöger (Sprüche, 194) has verse 20 rounding off 16:17–20 with its convergence of wisdom instruction and Yahweh-piety. The “enrichment” of 20:22 refers to “fattening” (pual ‫שן‬ ׁ ‫)ד‬. Objections to an afterlife in Proverbs carry little weight when compared to the arguments that favor a view, albeit a limited view, of life after death. Whybray (Proverbs, 337), for example, claims that “a future and a hope” in Prov 23:18 cannot refer to the afterlife due to the use of this pair of terms in Jer 29:11. Cf. Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 104–107. The most extensive and recent work on future hope in Proverbs is, to my knowledge, Jonathan D. Akin, “A Theology of Future Hope in the Book of Proverbs” (PhD. diss., The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, 2012). Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 674. There is the thought that God promises not to avenge the patient but to help them (Delitzsch, Proverbs, 2:54–55), presumably remedying whatever has befallen them. But that seems a slightly unnatural juxtaposition of ideas and unlikely in view of Prov 20:10–21 and 25:21–22.

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She takes vengeance into her own hands, presuming it right and possible, perhaps retaliating against her enemies or responding to them in a hasty manner and without appeal to God, making the decision to “repay evil” herself and erring by way of presumption. As is fitting for Thomistic virtue, the second line admonishes one to “wait for the Lord,” a remarkably hopeful action of trust in God. So the presumption to “repay evil,” being condemned in the text and occurring within the context of positive portrayals of hope, attests to the presence of hope as a virtue in Prov 20:22. The proverbs examined here either exhibit human trust in God (16:20; 23:17–18; 28:25) or imply it (16:3; 20:22) and offer evidence of theological hope in Proverbs 10–29. Like the set of proverbs related to Thomistic faith, some of these sayings mark a transition from hope to charity. “Commit your work to the Lord” (16:3), for instance, on its own commends trust in God and hints at the virtue of hope. But instead of stopping there it continues with the promise that “your plans will be established” to indicate that humans entrust their work to the Lord who then “establishes” (‫)כון‬ their plans, a force of certainty, security, and, here, well-being. Human trust leads to divine provision, human hope to a communication of good from God.78 So while charity is not an explicitly articulated relationship between humans and God in Prov 16:3, it is implied due to the obvious transmission of goods from God. Proverbs 16:3 conveys God communicating goods to those who trust in him and testifies to the theological virtue of hope and a relationship of love akin to theological charity.

Charity with God With a subtle transition between theological virtues in 16:3, there is still further evidence of charity in Proverbs. The virtue requires a love relationship between God and humans whereby God also communicates good to them, and it is a version of this that appears in Prov 16:7. “When a man’s ways please the Lord, even his enemies he puts at peace with him.”79 To please the Lord and attract his favor, one may act with

78

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TWOT 964. This is not to say that God is the only way to “establish” one’s ways. As Whybray (Proverbs, 240) observes, the Proverbial father (4:26) and human counsel (20:18) can ensure that one’s “plans will be established.” The mechanics of how and when one’s plans become established are unclear (see, e.g., Clifford, Proverbs, 157; Ansberry, Be Wise, 114–117). The first line of Prov 16:7 – ‫ – ברצות יהוה דרכי־אישׁ‬can be construed as “when a man’s ways please the Lord” (ESV) or “when the Lord favors a man’s ways” and therefore either

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Theological Virtues in Proverbs

integrity (11:1b; 12:22b) or release upright prayers (15:8b) and will certainly have nothing to do with the acts that God abhors (11:1, 20; 12:22; 15:8). In 16:7, such favor is denoted by ‫רצה‬, which calls to mind 3:12 and its concrete image of what favor might look like: “the one the Lord loves, he reproves, like a father, the son in whom he delights [‫]ירצה‬.” Here, the root ‫ רצה‬describes the father’s delight in his son, which analogizes to how God cares for those whom he loves and ties the favor of God to a relationship of divine–human love. So when the Lord “favors a man’s ways” in 16:7, he most likely loves that man, and according to other material in Proverbs that man probably loves God, moving one step toward the theological virtue of charity. The ‫ ב‬preposition of ‫ ברצות‬in 16:7a – “when a man’s ways please the Lord” – indicates that the action in the proverb’s second colon occurs simultaneously to divine favor. In 16:7b God creates peace for his beloved – “even his enemies he puts at peace with him” – and does so simultaneously with humans pleasing God or God favoring humans, so that the communication of good is concurrent with the relational action. This proverb does not feature a future promise, which would align more with the virtue of hope; nor does it feature an intellectual assent to God like the virtue of faith. It instead shows a relationship of pleasure between God and man that entails the communication of divine benefits. Lastly, the nature of the good – peacemaking – fortifies the presence of theological virtue. Aquinas claims peace as an effect of charity (ST II–II 29), and although he goes on to explicate it in a way that Prov 16:7 does not, the proverb at least exhibits a “concord . . . between one man and another” stemming from God’s favor (II–II 29.1).80 Humans love God, who communicates happiness. This is the theological virtue of charity. A second saying, Prov 19:3, reverses the perspective on charity and, if nothing else, attests to love’s error. “A man’s folly overthrows his way; his heart rages against the Lord.” Instead of loving God or pleasing him, the fool opposes God. He “rages” (‫ )זעף‬against the Lord and thereby parrots the condemned activities of “despising” and “hating” knowledge, which in Proverbs 1–9 are the evil corollaries to charity. The interpretation of Fox and others suggests a further link with theological virtue: “Folly corrupts a man’s behavior and he suffers the consequences; then he

80

explicitly or implicitly shows human action towards God, in that humans live lives that please God. Proverbs 19:17 also attests to the effects of charity, where generosity to the poor parallels generosity towards God who then repays such action (cf. almsgiving; ST II–II 32).

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blames God.”81 A fool’s folly causes him harm, and yet the fool believes that God himself has “overthrown his way,” as if the effects of the Lord brought the fool to a bad end. Incapable of knowing or perhaps unwilling to take personal responsibility for his folly, the fool instead “rages against the Lord” and mirrors the error that matches Aquinas’ theological virtue of love. The material selected so far from Proverbs 10–29 displays human actions toward God. People trust him, despise him, believe his word and denounce it, all of which provides evidence for the virtues of faith and hope and, on a more implicit level, charity. But this perspective, that of humans acting toward God, is not the only one in Proverbs, and by considering divine action itself a fuller vision of the book’s theological virtues can be secured. In other words, what does God do in Proverbs 10–29 and how might his activity attest to theological virtue? While Aquinas does not answer this question, he does say that God acts with respect to each of the theological virtues. For faith he supplies truth; for hope he supplies good; and for charity he communicates happiness, i.e. himself; and thus his action in Proverbs offers a justifiable starting point in the search for theological virtue. But this is not just a confirmatory exercise, as if the proverbs that feature God as agent simply proffer additional evidence for the ongoing argument. They offer evidence that may counter the conclusions drawn above and, thus, should not be overlooked.

divine action in proverbs 10–29 Proverbs 22:12 portrays God as an active agent and implies that he sources the truth to which humans assent. “The eyes of the Lord protect knowledge; he overthrows the words of the traitor.” God here “watches” or “protects” (‫ )נצר‬knowledge and overthrows the words of the treacherous. Reference to the “knowledge” that God protects places his action within an intellectual context, bolstered by the fact that a person’s “words” in Proverbs often hold the qualities of truth and knowledge or falsehood and lying (cf. 1:2; 6:17; 8:8; 12:17; 14:7; 19:27; 22:21; 23:9; 30:5–6, 8).82 God does not directly supply truth in 22:12, but by

81 82

Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 649. See also, e.g., Meinhold, Sprüche, 312. That is not to reduce God’s protection solely to words here, as if “Yahweh scrutinizes and safeguards the knowledge that comes to expression in words. If one’s words do not express faithfully what one knows, Yahweh will subvert those deceptive words”

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Theological Virtues in Proverbs

protecting knowledge and overthrowing wicked words, he plays an integral role in maintaining it. Since it is God, not humans, who act here, Prov 22:12 does not portray intellectual assent. That would require something like “They eyes of the Lord protect knowledge; and the wise find refuge therein.” But cognitive action is implicated in the reader’s response to the proverb that we do have.83 According to Waltke, Prov 22:12 “continues to nerve the youth to obey the faithful teaching and not to place unwarranted confidence in false doctrine.”84 The youth’s obedience requires an intellectual affirmation of the premise that only “God protects knowledge.” He must cognitively trust the words and wisdom of God because God protects knowledge and overturns those who speak to the contrary. Passages already examined more clearly reveal God as the source of truth (e.g., 2:1–6), and 22:12 further attests to his preservative role over the content of human learning. This proverb, then, implies that the responsive human would assent to God, and no other, with the intellect. The theological virtue of faith lies latent. Two proverbs imply that the Lord deserves human trust and serve as evidence of the theological virtue of hope: The Lord does not let the righteous soul hunger, but he rejects the desires of the wicked. (Prov 10:3) If the one who hates you is hungry, feed him bread, and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink, for you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you. (Prov 25:21–22)

Both of these passages explicitly state that the Lord provides for humans. He supplies food for the righteous (10:3) and rewards for those who help their enemies (25:21–22). For “The Lord does not let the righteous soul hunger,” and if you feed your enemy then “the Lord will reward you.” The Lord, therefore, plays the role required by the virtue of hope: he supplies goods for certain human beings. In response, humans implicitly

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(Clifford, Proverbs, 198). True, but the Lord as source of knowledgeable speech is also probably in view here (cf. Prov 2:6–8). I am not referring to reader-response theory in any formal sense but only drawing attention to what the proverb was designed to evoke from its interpreter. Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 213.

Divine Action in Proverbs 10–29

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exhibit trust in God. For the righteous in 10:3 are those who wait upon the Lord for food, and in 25:21–22 those who receive rewards are those who feed their enemies. Both imply that people trust in God for a certain good, whether food (10:3) or reward (25:21–22). Hence, in these sayings, the Lord’s activities sit in conjunction with human actions of hope. In him humans trust to obtain good. A feature not clear in other proverbs appears in both Prov 10:3 and 25:21–22, namely the assumption that good is possible but nonetheless difficult to attain. That difficulty is a feature of Aquinas’ definition of hope. For “the object of hope is a future good, difficult but possible to attain” (ST II–II 17.1). His comments that follow clarify what he means by “difficult”: “in so far as we hope for anything as being possible to us by means of the Divine assistance, our hope attains God Himself, on whose help it leans. It is therefore evident that hope is a virtue, since it causes a human act to be good and to attain its due rule.” Hope entails an arduous acquisition of good because humans cannot acquire the good on their own. In other words, hope requires God’s help, and that is just the sort of dependence that we see in Prov 10:3 and 25:21–22. Food appears in both passages, and for most in the ancient Near East obtaining it required hard labor and nature’s cooperation.85 When living outside of a city, people spent the majority of their day and lives tending crops and animals, repairing and building things to aid this husbandry, or processing the produce for themselves and their community. If disease spread or a drought occurred, famine might jeopardize inhabitants, rural or urban (see, e.g., Gen 26:1; Ruth 1:1; Job 5:20; Ps 33:19). Hunger was a very real threat, making consistent provision as promised in 10:3 a high hope, even for the diligent laborer: “the Lord does not let the righteous soul hunger.” Proverbs 25:21–22 instructs one to feed him who “hates you,” and given that such a person in Proverbs may be someone who lies (26:28), acts excessively insincere (27:6), and seeks to kill (29:10), the difficultly entailed in helping an enemy in order to obtain the Lord’s reward for oneself needs no explication.86

85

86

See Keefer, “Family.” Proverbs 10:3 may refer to hunger and fullness of a non-nutritional sort, such as financial need (10:2) or the satisfaction that comes with a blessed life in the land (so Psalm 37, esp. vv. 16–26). In view of the agricultural remarks in 10:5, though, it certainly includes nourishment. The heaping of coals causes pain (cf. Prov 6:27–28) and, in this case, probably the pain of humiliation. What result this has for one’s enemy is unclear, and the focus of the passage remains on the person who ought to help that enemy.

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Theological Virtues in Proverbs

Further attesting to the theological virtue of hope, Prov 10:3 presumes the error of despair. As Aquinas explains it, “The fact that a man deems an arduous good impossible to obtain, either by himself or by another, is due to his being over downcast, because when this state of mind dominates his affections, it seems to him that he will never be able to rise to any good” (ST II–II 20.4). It is possible to doubt the Lord’s favor, to be downcast or despairing rather than hopeful, and that propensity of hopelessness is seen in the promise that God will feed the righteous. For why would someone need to hear that “The Lord does not let the righteous soul hunger?” First, it compels the interpreter toward righteousness; for the wicked are rejected by God, while the righteous are fed by him. Second, it assures those who are righteous that the Lord will supply food, implying that they might lack confidence in the Lord’s provision.87 The Lord may not supply food. Perhaps he will let the righteous go hungry. That lack of confidence corresponds to despair, as the interpreter may not expect the Lord to “keep his soul from hunger” and may instead waver in hope, giving way to the vice of despair, which itself supports the idea that 10:3 is dealing with matters of Thomistic hope. In their portrayal of God’s action and implicit behavior of humans, Prov 10:3 and 25:21–22 furnish evidence for the theological virtue of hope. Both passages also incorporate evidence of charity. For God does not only promise to supply goods in the future for those who trust him. By implication, he actively delivers those goods, feeding the righteous and rewarding those who deserve it.88 Two proverbs more directly portray the Lord as the communicator of good things to humankind. “The way of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord, but the one who pursues righteousness he loves” (15:9); “House and wealth are inherited from fathers, but a prudent wife is from the Lord” (19:14). In Prov 15:9, God “loves” 87

88

Interpreting 10:3 within 10:1–5, Heim (“Coreferentiality,” 202–203) argues that, on the one hand, the Lord rejects the desires of those who decided to gain wealth via trickery (v. 2). On the other hand, the diligent son (vv. 1, 4–5) “does not need wicked tricks in order to make a living, so his righteousness saves him from death in a (financial?) crisis (v. 2) because YHWH will fulfill his expectations (v. 3)” (203). That interpretation allows for the possibility of despair in verse 3, but I am not sure that verse 2 presupposes a crisis of any sort. The implications of Heim’s argument for the coherence of these verses, while certainly valid for the coreferentiality of characters, does not account for other justifiable connections. I would point to 10:2’s link with 1:10–19 (so Keefer, Proverbs 1–9) and instances of sayings like 10:3 being stated independently (e.g., 10:24). While the perspective of Prov 25:21–22 orients God’s action towards the future – “[he] will reward you” – and maintains hope as its main concern, charity looms close by once the delivery of that reward is held in view.

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the person who pursues righteousness. The statement most simply affirms that love is a relational category between God and humans in Proverbs, and supports the reciprocal, human love for God that I argued appears in Prov 3:11–12 and 16:7. But in this regard, love is the only thing mentioned in 15:9. It says nothing about God communicating goods. And yet that omission attests to the way in which Proverbs presents the theological virtues. The book shows portions and glimpses of virtue, rarely explicating or displaying all of their components. So we see God supplying goods or a knowledge of the truth, and at another moment we see people trusting in him or assenting to his truth, and much of this by implication rather than explication. The material in Prov 3:5–12 and 30:1–9 proves to be the exception in this regard, as it names the virtues in a more straightforward manner and presents them in an ordered relation, which is why these passages inaugurated this portion of the study. Nonetheless, what Proverbs does show in Proverbs 10–29 corresponds to faith, hope, and love. Proverbs 19:14 corroborates charity by displaying present rather than future gifts of God: “a prudent wife is from the Lord.” He provides a man with a prudent partner, and such a gift confirms the immediate communication of good rather than the future grant of goods exhibited elsewhere (cf. 25:21–22). Therefore, Prov 19:14 gives evidence not so much of hope (trust for future good) but of charity (communication of present good). “House and wealth are inherited from fathers, but a prudent wife is from the Lord.” While God’s charitable action is clear, the proverb does not mention human love for God, only a reception of his gifts. Presumably with gratitude, one accepts his prudent wife as a divinely endowed treasure and values her more than any material inheritance from family. However, that “house and wealth are inherited from fathers” suggests that a father–son relationship undergirds the God–human relationship, which again recalls the analogy in Prov 3:12 – God loves and disciplines like a father who delights in his son. As a son loves his father and receives a house and wealth, perhaps the human who loves God receives a prudent wife.89 On its surface, Prov 19:14 displays God communicating goods; burrowed within this saying is a relationship of love.

89

Fox (Proverbs 10–31, 654) is right to say that “An intelligent wife is more precious than material wealth,” but the proverb’s emphasis does not land on the action of a groom-tobe, as if “she is probably a reward for a man’s merits and is therefore a source of pride, as in 12:4. The verse thus encourages a young man to be virtuous, so as to gain such a precious reward” (655). The weight rests upon the fact that “in spite of all human activity

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Theological Virtues in Proverbs

The remainder of proverbs that mention God in Proverb 10–29 revolve around two theological premises. Some display the supremacy of the Lord’s wisdom and sovereignty and confirm that the Lord stands as the source of truth as well as one who is sovereign and wise.90 In 16:9, for example, “The heart of man plans his way, while the Lord establishes his steps.”91 Proverbs like this attest to Aquinas’ first article of faith – God’s providence and omnipotence – whilst the other set of remaining proverbs shows the Lord’s affection and assessment of human beings.92 For instance, “All the ways of a human are pure in his eyes, but the Lord weighs the spirit” (16:2), and then there are the numerous sayings that predicate people and actions as an “abomination to the Lord.” These proverbs attest to Aquinas’ first article of faith and yet they also incorporate the sixth article, that God works for the sanctification of those who believe in him. For the Lord’s affections and assessments are meant to facilitate imitation in his people who consequently feel and perceive of right and wrong in the way that God does.93 By hating what he hates and loving what he loves, they grow in likeness to him. The sayings from Proverbs 10–29 that have been considered in the final stages of this chapter, which mention God as agent, do not evince theological virtues as clearly as the sayings that feature human action. This is understandable, since for Aquinas the primary descriptive element of the virtues is human action. God, however, is a necessary element in Thomistic theory, and the proverbs that mention him without recourse to human actions might have portrayed him in a way that counters the conclusions presented so far, by presenting the Lord as someone who withholds knowledge or proffers no benefits to those in relationship to him, for example. If any of this were the case, then the prior conclusions about human and even

90

91

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in this connection, the wise know that success in this attempt and fortune in life do not depend on humans but on divine providence” (Waltke, Proverbs 15–31, 108). Proverbs 10:3, 22; 15:3, 25; 16:1, 4, 9, 11, 33; 19:14, 21; 20:12, 24, 27; 21:1, 30, 31; 22:2, 12. The two lines of this proverb have an ambiguous relationship, with the waw plausibly meaning “and” or “but” and most neutrally “while.” The unstated assumptions of how the agency and wisdom of both humans and God relate here are stated in Proverbs 1–9, especially 3:19–26 and 8:22–36, where Wisdom mediates between both parties. For an extensive treatment, see Keefer, Proverbs 1–9. Proverbs 11:1, 20; 12:2, 22; 15:8, 9, 11, 26, 29; 16:2, 5, 7; 17:3, 15; 18:22; 20:10, 23; 21:2, 3; 22:14. That emulation is especially evident in 3:31–32 and Proverbs 5, and yet the whole of Proverbs 1–9 attempts to align the affections and moral discernment of the interpreter with that of the Lord’s. See Keefer, Proverbs 1–9.

Conclusion

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divine action would be undermined. But within those passages that he takes agency, his role confirms the presence of theological virtues.

conclusion The poetic material of Prov 3:5–12 and 30:1–9 attest to Aquinas’ theological virtues as articulated in his ST. These biblical passages display human actions toward God through characteristics that align with Aquinas’ criteria for faith, hope, and charity, and the remaining material (Proverbs 10–29) confirms the Thomistic qualities of these virtues. The book of Proverbs most explicitly mentions the faith and hope of human beings as they assent to the Lord as the source of truth and trust in him to deliver good. While it implies charity from the human perspective, whereby humans love God and receive his good gifts, Proverbs explicitly articulates God’s love for humans and his communication of good. In addition to this, all of the theological virtues, considered from both human and divine angles, receive implicit attestation in the passages examined. Secondarily, it seems, Proverbs makes no distinction between infused and acquired virtues, which explains why it presents human and divine agents cultivating virtue in an integrated way and also why certain objects, like justice rather than God himself, are the target of faith. Along with its primary concerns, two points recurred in this chapter. First, Proverbs depicts earthly goods more than eternal goods. That does not hamper my argument that the book contains theological virtues, but it does reveal the primary horizon of Proverbs’ moral instruction: earthly goods bolstered by necessary theological pillars. Second, Proverbial sayings, particularly those about faith, exhibit selective creedal affirmations, championing Aquinas’ first article of faith: God’s unity. But Proverbs does not view creedal statements as the primary target of intellectual assent, as if it requires from its audience a confession of faith in doctrinal standards. It instead provokes thought from its interpreters, who might indeed exercise faith in God as the source of truth but will also ponder how a quite personal God relates to human beings. Aquinas’ theological virtues, like Aristotle’s moral virtues, saturate much of Proverbs, which depicts human, and in some cases divine, action and emotion that meet the criteria set out by both moral philosophers. Therefore, it can now be said with some confidence that the book of Proverbs contains virtues of the Thomistic and Aristotelian sort. But it must also be said that this inventory has exposed the ways in which Proverbs differs from Aristotle and from Aquinas, leading not only to

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points of coherence with moral philosophy but also to points of contribution to it: an emphasis on humility, an elaborate view of ethical speech, a lived and integrated – what in the next chapter I will call “organic” – approach to virtue, the religiosity of its moral virtues, the weight it places upon assenting to divine truth and trusting God, and the relatively light touch it takes with love for him. In these ways, Proverbs emerges all the more as its own tradition of moral inquiry.

7 Moral Agents and the Presentation of Virtue

The book of Proverbs is a work of ethics; it purports, in part, to instruct humans about what they should and should not do in conjunction with whom they should and should not be. It often does so by means of character types, using the virtuous person to norm right ways of being and behaving, and in this way resembles philosophical virtue ethics. Aristotle’s “prudent man,” for example, is a model for how one should make moral decisions, just as the “wise” person in Proverbs authorizes the book’s moral advice.1 Suspicions of resemblance between such characters and assumptions that “Proverbial virtues” equate to Aristotelian or Thomistic virtues do not, however, place Proverbs within the virtue ethical tradition of moral philosophy. Proverbs is a part of the Hebrew moral tradition, and this study has delineated certain perspectives of that tradition as they appear within Proverbs by determining in what ways the book can be considered a work about virtues, whether Aristotelian or Thomistic, and just what sort of virtues it is about. Seven actions and four emotions in Proverbs, plus four types of action related to speech, reflect Aristotelian moral virtues. Appearing most clearly in Proverbs 10–29, five of these not only meet his criteria for virtue but are actually displayed in Proverbs on a template of excess, deficiency, and mean-state, while six others exhibit a virtue and one vice, leaving the additional vice implicit or somewhat opaque. Instructions about speech in Proverbs were categorized into four groups – concerned

1

See discussion in Chapter 3.

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with quality, purpose, quantity, and timing – and they consistently reflect a vice of excess, a vice of deficiency, and a mean-state. In meeting Aristotle’s criteria, all of these actions and emotions are, indeed, “Aristotelian moral virtues,” but they soon disclose in what ways they are not and consequently what makes them virtues of a Proverbial nature. For in its totality, the list of Proverbial virtues in many ways resembles Aristotle’s and in other ways contrasts, as certain correspondences exist only on the surface, and certain apparently shared virtues reveal underlying distinctions, which prompted the discussion in Chapters 4 and 5 about honor, shame, humility, courage, work, speech, and interpersonal associations/friendship. That chapter exposed why Proverbs and the NE treat some virtues differently and concentrated especially on those virtues that one text features and the other does not, such as courage in the NE and work in Proverbs. It also focused on the dissimilarity of common concepts, such as honor and shame, ideas shared by Proverbs and the NE but distinct in their social and theological composition. Contexts of a social and historical nature – like the ἀγών, court system, familial and political structures – explain many of the differences in how these virtues are treated in each text. Other distinctions are explained through beliefs about God or the gods, human nature, Proverbs’ alternative value system, and its location within an ancient Near Eastern, instead of Greek, intellectual context. The book of Proverbs stands apart most notably in its incorporation of Israel’s God, who determines moral virtue and enables its cultivation, and from whom distinct treatments of virtues extend, such as humility and interpersonal relations. Aquinas’ theological virtues – faith, hope, and charity – also correspond to material in Proverbs. Most lucid in Proverbs 1–3 and 30:1–9, texts that mention God and human action toward God show humans assenting to him as the source of truth (faith), trusting in him for good (hope), and loving him as the communicator of good (charity). Sometimes stated explicitly with lexemes for “hope” or “love,” theological virtues also appear in passages that lack such terms, occurring on a latent level within Proverbs and representing a Thomistic substructure more than a Thomistic veneer. That attests, as it did with certain Aristotelian virtues, to the organic nature of Proverbial ethics, which presents moral action holistically, with agents on the move or navigating circumstance, and cohortatively, being a text that instructs and targets the lives of its readers. The organization of these virtues is notable too, especially within poetic portions of Proverbs. For they often occur in sequence, as faith moves to hope and hope moves to love, each one building on the next, from the

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intellectual assent foreshadowed in 1:1–7, to the trust in God deemed necessary for good in 2:1–6, to the loving acquisition of those goods in 3:5–12. The earthly horizon of hope and charity also became clear, as Proverbs primarily attends to material rather than eternal goods, which may not exemplify Thomistic ethics but certainly accords with it. We can now say, definitively, that many of the moral concepts in Proverbs constitute virtues in the Aristotelian and Thomistic senses, with the book itself emerging as a moral tradition in its own right. That thesis has exposed various aspects of the Proverbial moral tradition, and for the remainder of this chapter I draw together and draw out the book’s conception of human nature, moral action, and character, the relation of moral and theological virtue, the human problem, and how Proverbs relates to its moral rivals.

human nature, virtue, and action As a tradition, Proverbs makes several assumptions about what it means to be human. In the first place, we are contextual beings, living moral lives in a particular context and receiving instruction within sociohistorical boundaries. For virtuosity in Proverbs may include generalized teachings that could apply in all sorts of scenarios, but as shown in Chapters 4 and 5 these teachings nevertheless betray a grounding in certain ancient Near Eastern practices and biblical doctrines, a striking alternative to the comments of Joseph Blenkinsopp, cited at the start of this study, who critiques the editors and authors of Proverbs: “Their teaching is, at best, sclerotic and pedestrian and, at worst, complaisant and ethically insensitive on a whole range of issues. Their vision is limited and their language constrained by the social class to which they belong, the ethos of which they are committed to uphold and perpetuate.”2 I have shown the contrary. First, the ethical vision of Proverbs, when conceived of as a collection of virtues, is at least as expansive as Aristotle’s, as evident in Table 4.1, where seven of ten virtues in the NE have a correlation in Proverbs, and Proverbs itself contains at least four extra categories for virtue when compared with the NE. It could be argued that the ethic of Proverbs is also as expansive as biblical law, showing substantial overlap in its concerns and even distinctively “sensitive” views toward vulnerable

2

Blenkinsopp, Sage, 36.

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members of society.3 Furthermore, it is far more expansive in certain areas, such as speech and human affections, which receive prolonged attention in Proverbs when compared to the NE and OT law. Second, Blenkinsopp asserts that the ethical vision of Proverbs is “constrained” by social class. But ethical thought requires social constraints, the significance of which was especially revealed in Chapters 4 and 5 with their exposition of ancient Greek and Israelite societal contexts and the necessary role they play for understanding the ethical claims of their respective literatures. So Proverbs is imbued in historical and social context, and in that regard fixed, and yet when interpreted as a tradition of virtue it is seen to contain transferable values, valuable not only for its original audiences and particular social strata but also for authors of the New Testament, who took special interest in the applicability of love and humility (e.g., Jas 4:6; 1 Pet 4:8, 18; 5:5; 2 Cor 9:7; Heb 12:5). Ben Sira also took the moral concepts of Proverbs, and particularly what Aquinas interprets as theological virtues, and placed them in a heightened theological register (e.g., 2:8–9). The ethics of Proverbs bears the stamp of its ancient context, and when interpreted within that world it models not a dull and crude morality but a theologically rich and ethically varied vision of human life.

Virtues and Virtues of Character It is, indeed, the ethical life itself and the contexts that make it intelligible that have attracted the attention of scholars like Anne Stewart. She questions the sentiment that ethics and moral agents are best understood within a narrative, that is, that making sense of the moral self requires a story, or something with a beginning, middle, and end, as argued by ethicists like Alasdair MacIntyre and Stanley Hauerwas. Critiquing such

3

If the virtues of Proverbs were transposed into moral laws, such as “honesty” into “be honest” (what Hursthouse [Virtue, 37–39] has coined “v-rules”), then one would find substantial overlap. For example, the hefty amount of instruction about generosity in Proverbs finds similar weight in the Pentateuch (e.g., Exod 20:15; 21:37–22:3[22:1–4]; 23:10–11, 14–19; Lev 19:5–10; Deut 14:22–27; 14:28–15:18; 26:1–15), and although it deserves far more demonstration, the ethical norms distinct to Proverbs when compared to the primary legal material of the OT include cheer, self-control (cf. Deut 21:20), measured and thoughtful speech, reproof, and peacemaking (Exod 21:18–21). Other than these potential distinctives, the book’s moral and theological virtues find substantial overlap with OT law.

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narratival priorities, Stewart argues that Proverbs perceives of ethics in a non-narratival way: The book of Proverbs provides a non-narrative way of articulating character that does not rely on a linear plot but is instead revealed in discrete moments and particular situations. In this respect, it bears some resemblance to a rule-based ethic that privileges acts, not character. At the same time, however, Proverbs’ emphasis remains on the quality of the agent rather than the act itself, for individual episodes provide windows into the quality of character displayed, whether wise or foolish. Accordingly, Proverbs presents a complex moral discourse that eschews neat classification.4

Instead of narrative, Stewart describes the character ethic of Proverbs as one that favors discrete episodes, the movement of emotions, and a set of independent situations not necessarily connected to each other.5 As nonnarratival, Proverbs takes two perspectives on morality, the first of which is character-based rather than rule-based, as each individual act stems from a particular quality of character, either wise or foolish. The second perspective focuses on those actions, the good or bad deeds that the book advises or condemns, and to that extent resembles a rule-based ethic. In my judgment, Proverbs does present “a complex moral discourse that eschews neat classification” but not only because it evades a narrative organization. Its discourse becomes increasingly complex when Proverbs is interpreted as a tradition of virtue, and we can see that complexity with more clarity in the book’s characters and actions. Stewart is right to say that, through chapters 1–9 and 31:10–31, Proverbs “holds coherence as a loose sequence,” and that instead of using a beginning, middle, and end, the book “enacts a cyclical process of formation that resists consummation.”6 But that does not necessarily mean that the book has no “organizational scheme to construct selfhood,” as she implies.7 The characters themselves organize the ethics of the book and plainly do so when interpreted as vehicles of virtue. When viewed as a book of moral virtues and vices, Proverbs most often exhibits a virtue and one related vice. For the action of work, this means that the diligent person and the sluggard exemplify labor that is, in one case, virtuous and, in the other, deficient. There is no mention of the overworker, “the workaholic,” or the person who works too much, and although such mistakes are denounced in Proverbs, they are not ascribed to a character type in the way that laziness and diligence are. Someone 4 6

5 Stewart, Poetic Ethics, 213 (see 204–213). Stewart, Poetic Ethics, 209. 7 Stewart, Poetic Ethics, 211–212. Stewart, Poetic Ethics, 213.

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may labor in haste or for no good purpose, but no Proverbial character does so. Characters are reserved for the most prominent points on the ethical spectrum: the cruel and the kind, the wrathful and slow-to-anger, the greedy and the generous, the wise person who deserves honor and the fool who deserves nothing but shame. These pairs include a virtue and its principal vice, which is how they appear throughout Proverbs, and they exclude the second, additional vicious activity, which is often left implicit or briefly mentioned. In other words, for the majority of actions and emotions, the mean-state (virtue) and one of its vices bear direct relation to character types, those morally fixed, bipolar caricatures that readers ought to disdain or emulate, including but not limited to the wise–fool, the righteous–wicked, and the slothful–diligent.8 They can be said to organize the morality of Proverbs. For little about virtue is seen without them. As mentioned, however, characters do not perform the book’s entire spectrum of virtue, and it is particularly the second respective vice, not the mean-state or its most prominent error, that seems independent of Proverbial character types. Thus, action is done deficiently or rightly, but when done in excess there is no character that embodies it. In the case of work, for example, the sluggard is lazy, the diligent is virtuous, and the “over-worker” is described but unnamed. For instead of being treated as characters, people who work too much are portrayed via discrete descriptions, such as working too quickly (21:5) or for the wrong purpose (23:4–5). The same could be argued for showing mercy, as the “wicked” act with cruelty, and the “righteous” with kindness, and yet the idea of leniency comes not by way of a character type – “the permissive,” for instance – but by means of Wisdom and the Lord himself who withhold compassion from certain parties. To the scoffers She will not answer (1:28) and to the scornful God returns only scorn (3:33). These two are in a loose sense “characters” of Proverbs but they are not character types, those human extremes of good and bad living. It is in place of these that the Lord and Wisdom prove leniency to be a problem.9 Characters, then, are central to the ethics of Proverbs and are perhaps its organizing feature, and yet they do not express the entirety of its virtue

8 9

For a comprehensive assessment of the characters in Proverbs, see Keefer, Proverbs 1–9. If leniency is shown to be wrong because Wisdom, like the Lord, refrains from being so in several situations, then that would implicate them in the book’s method of instilling virtue. For it directly instructs and displays caricatures for emulation, but to that adds the model behavior and attitudes of Wisdom and the Lord.

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ethic. Certain vices, even virtues, are left character-less and delivered by other means. That lack of expression, though, is a matter of textual presentation. For to say that characters do not express the entirety of virtue and vice may be true when treating each proverb independently, as atomistic sayings that can at times be grouped into twos or threes. But many proverbs can and should be interpreted in the context of the sayings that surround them, and this will at times result in a character–action connection that would otherwise remain unseen. The “humility” mentioned in Prov 18:12, for example, has nothing to do with character types if the proverb is interpreted on its own. But when read in view of 18:10–11, the “humility” of verse 12 is embodied by “the righteous man” of verse 10, and the haughty heart mentioned in that same verse becomes associated with the “rich man” of verse 11.10 Even when such interpretive license is granted, though, several vices have little direct contact with character and are instead presented through a qualified description of wrongdoing (excess or deficiency). Relatedly, virtue ethics exposes the nature of moral action in Proverbs. Gladness, for example, is praised and begotten by the wise, whilst sorrow is condemned and caused by the fool, but a second vice can strike those who rejoice too much. “Whoever sings songs to a sad heart is [like] one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and is [like] vinegar on soda” (Prov 25:20). As above, what is particularly striking about Prov 25:20 is that it makes no reference to character types. It says nothing of a “fool who sings songs to a sad heart” or “the wise person” who refrains from doing so. Rather than evaluating its emotion through characters, it states the effects of being too cheerful. Levity will cause discomfort and even irritation for the already gloomy recipient, and I have argued that that situational wrongdoing is best captured by Aristotle’s notion of virtue and vice. Indeed, the chipper song-singer is too cheerful, meaning that the spectrum of excess, deficiency, and mean-state – not character types, not the subtle orientation of one’s desires, and not a conception of narrative – supplies the moral framework for 25:20, and while it involves character and desire and perhaps one’s journey on the path of life, these do not explain how the proverb alone functions ethically (see also 29:24). Said another way, goodness is “situational,” a word often reserved for the use of proverbs themselves rather than the moral action conveyed in the book. For as a literary form the “proverb” (‫של‬ ׁ ‫“ )מ‬appeals to the

10

For a discussion of Prov 18:10–12, see Chapter 4.

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ability of man to size up a situation and make proper application according to his own good sense.”11 So sayings are spoken, at the right time, to the right people, and for the right purpose. But the actions and emotions of humans too are situational, which has been made more intelligible by reading the book through a scheme of virtue.12 For to be virtuous, things must be done or felt at the right time, in the right way, and toward the right people, which no universal principle can determine. Vice is also situational, and virtue ethics again has clarified how errors of excess can go wrong. As the above examples of overwork, leniency, and levity all show, those acts or emotions that are excessively “good” – namely, overwork, over-generosity, over-mercy, over-courage, and giving too much honor – require careful qualification when being critiqued.13 They are rarely attached to character types and instead presented as matters of action, all good things gone too far in view of several circumstantial variables: giving honor to the wrong person, being intrepid toward the wrong people, working for the wrong reasons, and sharing money without the proper precaution. So it is not only the verbal use of proverbs but also the ethical exercise of them that must take circumstances into account.

Humility and Self-Control Revisited The association of character types with virtue and one primary vice, the nuanced qualification of the other vice, and the implication this holds for moral action are not the only clarifications that virtue ethics brings to Proverbs. Clarified also are two virtues in particular, both of which evade the categories that I have just described. They neither have a close relation to character types nor are they implicit wrongs or rights only briefly mentioned. They are prominent moral virtues without direct or regular embodiment in characters. I am referring to humility and self-control. 11

12

13

John Thompson, The Form and Function of Proverbs in Ancient Israel (Paris: Mouton, 1974), 70. The literature on paremiology is vast, but the work of Richard Trench and Wolfgang Mieder are foundational, with its application to biblical interpretation being made by Susan Niditch and Carole Fontaine, among others. Stewart (Poetic Ethics, 209) begins to suggest the situationality of being wise: for Proverbial characters, “the figure’s wisdom or foolishness is with reference to the particular problem or situation he negotiates.” The same might be said of dispute, that too much peacemaking (or being passive in disputation) is not a widespread category of wrongdoing but a vice that manifests in very particular ways.

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The virtue of humility comes paired with its vice of pride as an ethical posture of self-regard. The proud regards himself too highly, the diffident too lowly, and the humble just right. As the two primary types of selfregard, humility and pride are expected to present like many other mainstream moral concepts in Proverbs, to be manifested in characters, like diligence and laziness or greed and generosity. The expectation is fulfilled for pride, an upraised regard for oneself that is described as being “wise in one’s own eyes” (28:11). For “the arrogant, haughty man – ‘scoffer’ is his name, acting with the rage of pride” (21:24).14 Whilst postures of pride are associated with character types (e.g., the scoffer), this is not the case for humility. “Humility is before honor” (15:33b); “the consequence of humility – the fear of the Lord – is riches, honor and life” (22:4);15 “pride comes and then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom” (11:2). Humility may involve a fear of the Lord or a relatively low estimation of oneself, and even arrive hand-in-hand with wisdom, but it is not presented in the text of Proverbs as an attribute of the book’s character types. According to 11:2, the humble do have wisdom, but “the wise” by name does not manifest this virtue and can be said to have a “lowly spirit” only by implication. The clearest indication that humility embraces a character type is given by Prov 3:34. “As for the scorners, he scorns, but to the humble he gives favor.”16 The verse before this contrasts the wicked with the righteous, and the verse after it juxtaposes the wise and the foolish, so that in 3:34 the “scorners” (‫ )לצים‬stand opposite the “humble” (‫)עניים‬, who are now put in a line of positive coreferential characters: the wise, the righteous, and so the humble, who perhaps exemplify a distinctively modest view of themselves. These “humble” (‫ )עניים‬are otherwise described as “afflicted” (15:15) or financially “poor” (14:20), and postures of humility described in alternative ways. It is a virtue chiefly independent of character types and largely presumed to be understood, receiving most definition in its contrast with pride and in its collocated moral positives, such as submission 14

15

16

The scoffer’s ‫עברה‬, what I have translated “rage,” may be an “excess” or “overflow” of pride (cf. Isa 16:6; Job 40:11; Toy; Delitzsch), but those occurrences can just as plausibly mean “rage” (interestingly, Proverbs uses the modifier ‫“[ רב‬much”] and never ‫מאד‬ [“very”]). In Proverbs, ‫ עברה‬refers to wrath (esp. 14:35; 22:8). The LXX reads, “The fear of the Lord is the offspring of wisdom and riches,” containing several conceptual differences from the MT and thereby making its usefulness questionable. The MT’s omission of a waw on “riches” suggests that “the fear of the Lord” defines “humility,” and as for humility itself, ‫ ענוה‬nowhere clearly means “humiliation” (pace Clifford, Proverbs, 196) but at most the opposite of “haughty” (Prov 18:12). On the grammar, see Fox, Proverbs 1–9, 168 and Job 9:19.

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to God and adherence to his instruction, or regarding oneself as lower than him and recognizing one’s moral impurity. Self-control is presented in much the same way. It is described or illustrated, being the mean between hunger and overindulgence, without attachment to Proverbial characters. One case, though, describes the righteous as one who “eats to satisfy his appetite” and says, “the belly of the wicked is in want” (13:25). The righteous do seem to eat the right amount, at the right time, and in the right way. And although that portrayal of selfcontrol is not the standard, nor anywhere close to the majority view in Proverbs, it does mean that this virtue is not entirely independent of character types. Nonetheless, self-control and humility take on distinctive characterizations, being excluded from the population of character types that so regularly exhibit the other moral virtues and vices. The reason for this is not clear, but it may have something to do with the importance of naming and describing these two virtues, as if a pedagogical advantage is gained by dislodging them from character types, perhaps to set them on a platform of undivided attention. Perhaps they reinforce the role of “habit” in moral life, a notion championed by Aristotle and not foreign to Proverbs, as repeated angles on humble and self-controlled ways of being may instill the premise that practice makes virtue. These possibilities remain to be seen, and even if a full explanation is unrealized, what has been accomplished for humility, self-control, and many of the moral concepts in Proverbs is the deduction that they are virtues and an articulation of what sort they are. But virtue is, still, not a totalitarian regime in Proverbs, and with fifteen moral virtues and three theological virtues established, the remaining moral concepts of the book have been put into relief: those intellectual states and acts, such as “prudence” and “understanding,” as well as the categorically right and wrong behaviors, like adultery and murder.17 These fall on no spectrum of the mean and they do not depend on time or circumstance for their moral value.18 They are actions of another sort, including absolute ethical

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For a full account, see Chapter 3. To talk about the action of sex as a moral virtue is arduous. Clearly, adultery reflects an “excess” of action, in being sex with the wrong person, or perhaps with too many people, and yet Proverbs seems to take it no further than that. If sex were to be construed within a framework of moral virtue, it would need to occur with one’s spouse and then, conceivably, too often and not enough, with the ideal being a mean-state, but Proverbs seems uninterested in this. Aristotle seems just as disinterested, though he could plausibly have construed it as such given his comments in NE 8.12.7, where “justice” rules the relationship between husband and wife, including their needs for pleasure and

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norms and methods of deciding upon virtuous behavior, all of which preserves the integrity of what I have deemed moral and theological virtues. Collectively, these make up the ethical vision of Proverbs. Virtue has exposed the centrality of character, the limitations of character, and the role and makeup of moral action in Proverbs, all of which informs how the book conceives of human nature. As moral animals, humans act based on their character, and yet they may need to focus on a single action or feeling, which is indeed bound to character but nonetheless worth thinking about on its own. For, as a tradition of virtue, Proverbs presents its ethic in terms of character as well as action and, as argued above, the distribution of both attests to its moral complexity. Humans are also emotional animals, and virtue too has clarified the role of desire in their moral life. According to Stewart, desires are subject to moral formation, functioning both as instruments by which Proverbs persuades its audience and as objects of instruction that must themselves be tutored appropriately.19 As objects of moral formation, desires are affixed to the characters of Proverbs and directed toward certain ends, being trained to desire the right things, such as wisdom, knowledge, and the path of life. But when understood as objects of virtue, I would contend that desires are not only directed toward the right ends or good objects. They must also feel at the right time, in the right place, and in the right manner. Cheer, for instance, does fit within a telic framework by contributing to the formation of wise character, and yet it also stands as an object of good in and of itself, capable of erring in more ways than one. Humans might feel sorrowful or jocular and do so at the wrong time or to the wrong degree or toward an inappropriate audience, thereby manifesting a vice that may have little to do with its end, erring not by wanting folly or the path of death but rather by missing the mean. Ultimately, that mean-state scheme of virtue and the wider goods of Proverbs may be shown to link up in a coherent fashion across the book as a whole, which would involve a certain argument for the book’s coherence and, perhaps, for an understanding of virtue and vice as ways that contribute to said goods. I have not completely attempted that, but I can conclude that, with a layer of complexity yet unnoticed, Proverbs not only forms desires toward the right ends but also treats desires within a scheme of

19

procreativity. He even suggests that marriage can be a friendship based on virtue, which would mean that partners fulfill their distinctive functions to each other’s benefit (see 8.11.1–4). Stewart, Poetic Ethics, 130–169.

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virtue that praises correct desire and warns against those that err by excess and deficiency.

The Relation of Moral and Theological Virtue There is also the question of how all of this links up with theological virtue. In Chapter 6, I made no attempt to systematically relate the moral virtues to the theological virtues, but a few suggestions proceed from the work so far.20 In Proverbs, theological virtue marks the starting point for acquiring the moral virtues so that no virtue itself is had without the help of the Lord (Proverbs 1–3). He reveals the truth to those who seek it and grants to those who trust him a knowledge of “every good path” (2:9). “For wisdom will come into your heart and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul” (2:10). Faith and hope in God make wisdom and virtue possible, benefits which themselves can be called a “communication” of God’s love. This must not be understated – for it can be and at times has been – that from God comes virtue, that without God one is not virtuous in the Proverbial sense; to be anachronistic, that something about the mind, the emotions, and the will find their right order and function with God, and that to be “foolish” is not necessarily to be “unintelligent” – such people can scheme for riches, for instance (1:10–19; 10:2a), or seduce a man (7:1–27) – but rather to be blinded to the fact that one needs God to get on well in this world and, perhaps, to even know what it means to “get on well.” Whilst Wisdom may indeed be the book’s organizing principle, as She commands the respect of the audience and is the primary object of their love, especially in Proverbs 1–9, the Lord is certainly the source of moral virtue and the power by which it is realized.21 But there is a reverse relationship too. For temptation toward certain moral vices seems to influence theological virtue. That is evident in the

20

21

Aquinas’ teaching on the relation of theological and moral virtue has produced hefty debate, revolving around his notions of infused and acquired moral virtues. What appears most clearly in the ST is that God and the theological virtues perfect any human virtues that a person might possess (I–II 62, esp. 62.3). For discussion, see Austin, Aquinas, 193–214. On the idea that an articulation of the good drives one to love the good and thereby become empowered to do and to be good, along with how this model contrasts with much modern moral theory, which tends to confine itself to understanding morality as obligation, with little concern for what empowers one to live up to these obligations or for higher goods in general, see Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989), 91–98.

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case of Agur who ponders a situation that would entice him toward greed and consequently endanger his ability to love God (30:7–9). On the one hand, if vulnerable to gluttony or an excessive satisfaction with life’s wares, he may deny the Lord. On the other hand, if plundered of goods and in desperate need of money, he may succumb to greed and “profane the name” of his God. However we frame them, the excessive acquisition of goods or the desperate need for them are vices, and they put Agur’s relationship with the Lord in jeopardy. Similarly, moral viciousness begets moral viciousness and may break an already fractured theological integrity. For example, when folly causes all sorts of trouble for one’s life, it may drive one to blame God, to rage against him, and to express not charity but a hatred of him (19:3). So moral folly fortifies theological wrongdoing. But a positive correlation of morality and theology also exists, as the book’s teaching about moral virtue and vice ought to foster trust and hope in God (22:19), and the Lord clearly responds both favorably and unfavorably to the moral virtues and vices of humans. For instance, those who refrain from cruelty and from “repaying evil” will be those who wait for the Lord and are delivered by him (20:22). They may not exhibit mercy but they refrain from the vice of cruelty and in turn patiently trust the Lord, which plays a significant role in how he treats them. These suggestions recall the possibility of “habituation” in Proverbs, the idea that repeated action somehow relates to virtue/vice, and they more so attest to the integration of moral and theological virtue in the book, which gives priority to the latter without debunking the former. Indeed, a flow of faith, hope, and love for God accounts for many of the book’s claims about human action toward him and along the way forms a relationship with moral virtue and vice, integrating and expanding the book’s theology and character ethic. In Proverbs, both types of virtue are presented organically. The book does not delineate vices of excess and deficiency, and pinpoint the meanstate of virtue, and then label each as such. Nor does it define “faith” in God or love for him, even though it does give a hint as to what forms those may take: to love God as a son loves his father (3:12), for instance.22 Any precise set of definitions would be more like a forensic 22

Proverbs, also, specifies little about the context in which this faith and love develop, mentioning no cult, no priest, no covenant family, no nation, not at least by name, and yet the centrality of one’s relationship to God for its ethical vision leaves one wondering how something so abstract would have stimulated its original audience and ought to perhaps redirect our attention to work that has probed the connections of Proverbs and other portions of the OT (e.g., Weeks, Instruction).

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investigation of virtue, which is perhaps the only way to describe the work of Thomas Aquinas, whose Summa Theologica took moral science to a new level of systematization. So too, Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics determined moral good through a scheme of virtue and vice. But Proverbs does none of this; it instead shows virtue in action and embodied in character types, presenting its moral vision organically and applying it to anthropological wholes and psychosomatic moral agents. That holds true also for its theological vision, which involves morality and, if taken on its own, looks lived and even harmonious. Proverbial ethics may not be forensic, but it is related to virtue and is, in its presentation, organic. The same can be derived from the fact that much of Proverbs is poetry, not treatise or dialogue but adage and poem, which is nevertheless braced by the frameworks of Aristotelian and Thomistic virtue. These have produced an index of ethical concerns and a more sophisticated conception of what it means to be human, particularly what it means to be good and bad, according to Proverbs.

jerusalem, athens, paris, and the human problem Being bad in Proverbs does not bode well for human beings and implies, of course, that they have some sort of problem. The problem itself can be framed in several ways, not least when derived from the perfection of its characters. The righteous, the wise, the diligent, the prudent, and all of the good Proverbial character types stand with unwavering moral rectitude, and by admonishing humans to emulate them, Proverbs assumes that its readers have not yet attained moral perfection and are therefore imperfect. Their plight is substantiated by the philosophical interpretation of Proverbs. For example, when examining self-regard I showed that humans attempt to set a moral standard based on their own “wisdom” or according to the voice of Folly, that is, by means of an unauthenticated instructor instead of the Lord or Wisdom.23 Thomistic virtues also revealed how humans go wrong: they doubt God as the source of truth 23

On the authentication of OT spokespeople, see Dru Johnson, Biblical Knowing: A Scriptural Epistemology of Error (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2013), esp. 1–96. This raises the question of whether Proverbs, or other wisdom-focused books, provides criteria for the falsification of “authoritative” teachers, as Deuteronomy 13 and 18 do for prophets and the Pentateuch does for Moses (cf. Job 42:7; Eccl 12:9–14). With no ancient Near Eastern parallel to God’s giving the torah at Sinai, how might the presentation of authoritative teaching in other OT books stand apart from its ancient Near Eastern counterparts?

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and despise him rather than trust in him as the source of good. Along with these problems of relating to oneself and to God, the swathe of vices in Proverbs, most of which fault humans for how they relate to other people, completes the book’s panorama of the human problem: humans struggle in relation to themselves, to God, and to others. Equally essential to a conception of human trouble in Proverbs is the problem of unteachability. No one gets past the first few lines without being teachable, as those who would be wise must “hear” and “increase in learning” (1:5). They must fear the Lord (1:7) and heed Wisdom rather than rejecting her with educational recalcitrance (1:20–33). Being unteachable is perhaps part of what it means to be “wise in one’s own eyes,” that overestimation of oneself at the expense of submitting to the appraisal of others, namely God, Wisdom, and wise teachers. In contrast to the self-proclaimed wise, Proverbs portrays the figure of Agur (30:1–9) to suggest that an awareness of one’s lack of wisdom is an important part of the moral life, as the virtuous human knows his or her lack of virtue and operates with an attitude antithetical to those “wise in their own eyes,” a phrase that may place some notion of egocentricity among the core moral faults of Proverbs. Agur in a way norms failure, turns to the Lord for help, and thereby makes teachability a part of one’s pursuit and practice of virtue. But Agur’s direction is ultimately theological, and in Proverbs virtue most securely resides with God, who administers virtuosity and promises to straighten out the kink in human morality. He teaches, governs, disciplines, and makes one virtuous. Though distinctive, Proverbs is not alone in its recognition of a human problem. For all moral traditions at least presume one and at most explain and solve it. They question what is wrong with human beings and how an ethical framework such as virtue pertains to it. The moral traditions laid out in Chapter 2 each addressed the human problem, as Socrates diagnosed it as an issue of knowledge, that people commit wrong because they do not know what is good. Aristotle thought that even if we know what is good, we may nonetheless succumb to desire. For any wants untutored can override reason, and a similar problem was put forward by Aquinas, but he saw reason and desire as dually contorted, corrupted by sin and leading one toward the wrong end, to know it and to want it and to altogether miss the mark. Knowledge, pleasure, and sin, all distinct ways of explaining how humans go wrong, are viable ways of explaining the human problem in Proverbs. There has been some discussion, though, about which of these philosophies best suits the ethic of Proverbs.

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According to Michael V. Fox, “the sages of Proverbs and Socrates were thinking in similar ways about the same issues,” for they “believed that ignorance alone is the problem and wisdom alone the solution.”24 According to Socrates, humans do wrong because they do not know otherwise. They are ignorant of the good and therefore cannot do it, regardless of how they feel or what they might desire, since human emotion simply follows human knowledge. This is evident in Proverbs, where “Desire without knowledge is not good” (19:2a) and wicked moral agents “do not know” that what they are doing is wrong (e.g., 4:19; 5:6; 7:23).25 But even statements like 19:2 attribute desire with substantial moral power, and although knowledge seems to play the determinative role in virtuous living, it does not always and everywhere have a necessary correlation to virtue. In Prov 23:1–3, desire, not knowledge, is the primary cause of one’s wrongdoing. “When you sit down to eat with a ruler, observe carefully what is before you, and put a knife to your throat if you are given to appetite” (23:1–2). It could be argued that one’s appetite overpowers knowledge in this scenario, that the guest might request more food than is offered, or want the portion allotted to others whilst knowing that he should only eat his share. As it says, “When you sit down to eat with a ruler, observe carefully what is before you,” implying that the guest knows what belongs to him and need only guard against a desire that would counter that knowledge: “put a knife to your throat if you are given to appetite.” Here, it is plausible to say that the agent knows the good and yet may fail to do it.26 For there is much at stake in the presence of a superior, and once the guest considers his own portion and the host himself, he may still ruin his own reputation through an uncontrolled appetite. Even if, in Proverbs, knowledge of the good

24 25

26

Fox, “Ethics,” 76, 85. The ‫ גם‬that starts 19:2 may signal an increase in severity from the first colon to the second (so Meinhold, Plöger) and otherwise functions assertively. More broadly, the problem of knowledge also appears as a struggle to distinguish good and bad, especially with respect to the competing voices of Proverbs 1–9 (see Jean-Noël Aletti, “Seduction et Parole en Proverbs I–IX,” VT 27 [1977]: 129–144). Evaluating whether Proverbs matches a Socratic (Fox) or Aristotelian (Ansberry) moral vision, Stewart (Poetic Ethics, 6–8) favors the former, claiming that “It is hard to find an example in Proverbs in which a person clearly has knowledge yet does not act in accord with it, which would be the situation to discredit Fox’s point. Fox could counter all of Ansberry’s examples with the claim that the character’s moral perversion arises from his lack of knowledge” (7 n. 18). But the examples named here and in what follows (6:23–35; 23:1–3) suggest that someone has knowledge and yet may fail to act in accord with it, largely due to an opposing desire. For further discussion of 23:1–3, see Chapter 3.

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always accompanies virtue, and ignorance of the good always accompanies evil, that does not necessarily mean that Socratic ethics best explains the book’s moral vision. It may be accurate but too simple. For the ethics of Proverbs also adheres to Aristotle’s moral vision and much of the complexity that he introduces to it.27 According to Aristotle, it is not only a general knowledge of the good that enables virtue but a perception of the mean relative to the agent and situation. That layer of complexity coheres with what appears in Proverbs, as it displays virtue in those who perceive and hit the mean and error in those who fail to hit it, locating virtue in what Aristotle calls “prudence” or the ability to discern what is right in each situation. But desire too has a say, and it may be the cause of one’s evil and so override knowledge in the process. In addition to the temptations of appetite mentioned above, Proverbs addresses desire as if it determines moral decision-making. “Do not desire her beauty in your heart,” says the father, warning his son of the adulteress, “and do not let her take you with her eyelids” (6:25).28 The boy might “lack sense” (6:32), but his oversight comes from problematic affections, just as the thief to whom the pupil is compared plausibly knows of his wrongdoing but indulges his appetite regardless (6:30–31). 29 He steals because he is hungry and wants food, not because he is ignorant that theft is wrong, and in the same way the boy wants what he knows he should not have. The portrayal of adultery’s dreadful consequences and the desire-targeted warnings against it suggest that knowledge is not determinative here but that the boy’s emotions need control. “When faced by the slippery temptress,” says Fox, “reflection on ethical and religious principles is unlikely to be as compelling as the gut fear of facing a fuming husband and sneering neighbors.”30 As argued above, virtuous and vicious desire certainly stem from one’s character, like the wicked who “covet the spoil of evildoers” (12:12), but the ethic of Proverbs should not be reduced to the Socratic motto that “virtue is knowledge.” 27 28

29

30

So Ansberry, “What does Jerusalem.” Knowledge of the father’s teachings may be the right antidote to inordinate desire (Prov 4:23; 6:21; so Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 353) but it does not necessarily follow that knowledge therefore controls desire. These chapters give the impression that teaching and good sense are in ongoing tension with the boy’s impulses. Plöger (Sprüche, 71) rightly argues for “undisciplined impulsiveness” as a point of comparison between the thief and the son. Fox, Proverbs 10–31, 237.

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There is, though, an ambiguity around the roles of desire and knowledge in the human problem. Proverbs 1:1–7, for instance, and 2:1–6 aim to cultivate one’s desire for wisdom, holding it out like a prize that, if longed for, can be secured. In the same breath, a disaffection for wisdom is expressed – “fools despise wisdom and instruction” (1:7b) – and yet it is not clear just how character and virtue relate to desire. Do fools despise wisdom because they are fools? Or are they fools because they despise wisdom? Will the teachable audience want wisdom because they are to some extent already wise? Or do they become wise because they desire it? As argued above, character is clearly presented as determinative for action and emotion elsewhere in Proverbs, and yet in these passages one gets the sense that cause and effect exchange roles and influence each other.31 Only so much can be parsed in Proverbs, and that is largely due to the book’s organic presentation of ethics. So whilst we can affirm much about Socratic and Aristotelian virtue in the book and offer several qualifications about its moral vision, we get the sense that the exactitude demanded remains out of reach. Aquinas only furthers that limitation, since for him, wrong arises when reason and/or desire causes humans to aim at the wrong end, to order one’s life or action around an unholy goal that then results in wickedness.32 As outlined above, that misdirection does appear in Proverbs, where desire must be oriented to the right end, and although not as spiritually grand as Aquinas’, the ends of Proverbs deserve human affection. In addition to this, sin is a category not foreign to the book. Proverbs names sin (e.g., 5:22; 10:16; 20:9), calls people “sinners,” and makes prohibitions in line with the Torah. Those nonvirtue regulations, such as adultery, murder, and lying, match the illegalities of the Decalogue and make lawlessness, not just vice, a problem for human beings. But vices too find concord with biblical law, where the prohibition against stealing (Exod 20:15), for instance, curbs a proclivity to greed, and the prescription of a sabbatical year promotes generosity (23:10–11). Fear can be felt too much (Deut 20:3), contentiousness can rise to inappropriate levels (Exod 21:18–21), and coddling may be a temptation (Deut 21:18–21), all of which reflects Proverbial vice.33 31

32 33

Cf. Fox, “Ethics,” 87. Consider also those who forfeit their share in virtue by rejecting Wisdom and the Lord, doing so largely but not exclusively on an emotional level, and are thereafter denied wisdom even though they apparently realize they need it (1:20–33). That is not to say that Socrates was unconcerned with ends (see Prot. 352–353). Given the harshness of the law in Deut 21:18–21 when compared with Babylonian codes (e.g., Laws of Hammurapi 195), Gordon McConville (Deuteronomy, AOTC 5 [Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2002], 331) suggests that this death penalty was unlikely to

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That again leads this discussion to its limits and perhaps to its more promising points of inquiry, such as the comparison of Proverbial virtue and biblical law or a comprehensive account of the human problem in Proverbs. In addition to the organic nature of the book’s contents, and its concern with the ends and sin of human beings, there comes, with the somewhat nebulous nature of the human problem in Proverbs, the possibility that the book is more concerned about other moral matters, such as to whom its readers will listen when given rival accounts of the good life (Wisdom or Folly) and to whom they must face up if they intend to become virtuous (the Lord). As argued above, Proverbs principally targets unteachability, which can be framed as a vice of not heeding instruction enough, and portrays those with that vice as, yes, unintelligent, but unintelligent in the sense that they hate what the book so adamantly wants its audience to love. Perhaps it is here that further theological resources could be drawn upon, namely, Augustine’s doctrine of the will and his notion of two loves toward which the moral agent is directed. Charles Taylor frames well the Augustinian contribution to moral philosophy: It posits that humans are capable of two radically different moral dispositions. The teleological theory of nature underlying Greek moral philosophy supposes that everyone is motivated by a love of the good, which can be sidetracked to evil through ignorance (the view that Plato attributes to Socrates) or distortive training and bad habits (Aristotle). Augustine’s doctrine of the two loves allows for the possibility that our disposition may be radically perverse, driving us to turn our backs even on the good we see. Indeed, that is precisely the predicament of all of us, owing to the sin of Adam. The will must first be healed through grace before we can function fully on the Socratic model.34

In line with what I described above, there is something about this twofold love that rings true with Proverbs, especially chapters 1–9 where competing voices command the attention of moral agents, and yet within Proverbs itself the exact mechanics of wrongdoing and of the transformation of moral agents – the inner world that Augustine developed so influentially – go unseen. But the perversity of the human disposition, aside from how “radical” that might be, seems to be at play. For although Proverbs assumes a great deal about what humans can achieve ethically, one begins

34

actually occur among Israelites and that the law may have instead motivated obedience. The nature and severity of this Deuteronomic law suggests that the parental audience inclined towards coddling. Taylor, Sources, 138.

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to wonder why they need all this goading and discipline and multifaceted portraits of moral exemplars, and why, amidst that, the possibilities of wrongdoing are displayed in no moderate manner. The place of error and the nature of human beings, though, have been accounted for when considering Proverbs as a tradition of moral virtue. And with the help of its theological framework, we can see that Proverbs addresses certain issues that brought Socrates and Aristotle to a dead end, such as God being the source of virtue and, most plausibly, the supplier of “prudence,” which for the Greeks was obscure but for Proverbs perhaps explained by the promise that God will make one virtuous. As a moral tradition, Proverbs entails a view of human constitution, cosmological direction, and theological fixtures, and whilst the book speaks loudly on some issues and remains silent on others, the OT as a whole can offer additional answers to these questions and would need to be consulted if an Israelite tradition (or traditions) of virtue were to be fully realized.

avenues for the study of the old testament and philosophy Having established Proverbs as a moral tradition in conversation with particular interlocutors means that other theories of virtue have consequently been overlooked. Aristotle and Aquinas, though representatives of moral philosophy with two of the most widely received positions on virtue, are not the only voices on the matter. Additional versions of virtue and new problems within moral philosophy ought to be accounted for, such as contemporary virtue theories (e.g., Rosalind Hursthouse), forms of virtue epistemology (e.g., Linda Zagzebski), and ideas about how virtue rivals deontological and utilitarian ethical traditions. Most important, though, is how these philosophical theories are appropriated. The method of this study has contributed a depth and a particularity to how “the Bible and philosophy” can be approached, suggesting that an analysis of ethics, or any philosophical topic, should not be treated at a cursory level and should instead vie to understand the questions, ideas, texts, and contexts of the Bible and philosophy. To understand notions of “virtue” required the use of particular philosophical texts, which regulated the definition of the concept and served as the most plausible method for concluding that Aristotelian or Thomistic virtues appear in Proverbs. Philosophical interpretation of the Bible otherwise runs the risk of remaining vague or presumptive and fostering shallow interaction between disciplines. Even this project, drawing as it has upon the

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theological, historical, and anthropological contexts that inform particular views of virtue, by no means exhausted these resources. Much more could be said, and presumably will be discovered, about the sociohistorical circumstances of ancient Greece and the ancient Near East, which can enhance our understandings of moral virtue and will hold great promise for exegetical endeavors. In addition to its depth of exegesis and the selection of particular texts, the biblical side of philosophy–and–OT projects ought to take stock of the OT’s literary and social contexts. The nature of virtue in Proverbs becomes clear and nuanced when Hebrew linguistics, poetic devices, cultural backdrop, and original concerns are accounted for. Whilst possible in either final-form or historical-critical modes of interpretation, the final-form approach of this study, joined by a sensitivity to literary and social contexts, has allowed Proverbs to speak on its own and yet also converse with certain brands of moral philosophy. Biblical interpreters need not classify the Bible as a meta-ethical treatise or a history of cognitive philosophy to demonstrate its contribution to “philosophy,” so long as they confront the Bible with questions derived from particular philosophical disciplines, exhuming its latent and/or explicit views and identifying its contribution to discussions previously reserved for philosophers. In this way, Proverbs has been made intelligible as a moral tradition and one that is, in many senses, concerned with virtue.

Bibliography

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Index of Ancient Sources

old testament Genesis 1–2 131 1:26–31 131 10:9 81 n. 84 16:6 139 18:20 106 19:19 76 n. 69 21:25 139 24:1–9 139 24:49 76 n. 69 26:1 195 26:20 140 n. 47 31:26–44 140 n. 47 31:36 140 n. 47 36:3–6 147 38:24–26 139 39:21 76 n. 69 40:7 62 n. 36 45:5 62 n. 33 47:6 52 47:29 76 n. 69 Exodus 14:4 52 17:2 140 n. 47, 143 18:18–26 139 18:21 52 20:14 102 20:15 204 n. 3, 218 20:16 142 21:18–21 204 n. 3, 218 21:37–22:3[22:1–4] 204 n. 3 23:5 65 n. 44

23:10–11 204 n. 3, 218 23:14–19 204 n. 3 34:6 78 n. 77 Leviticus 19:5–10 204 n. 3 19:9–18 138 n. 40 19:32 109 20:10 102 25:36 71 Numbers 14:18 78 n. 77 20:3 140 n. 47 24:3 180 n. 49 24:15 180 n. 49 35:30 142–143 35:34 143 Deuteronomy 5:20 142 13 214 n. 22 14:22–27 204 n. 3 14:28–15:18 204 n. 3 15:1–6 71 16:18 139 17:8–13 143 18 214 n. 22 18:3–4 176 20:3 218 21:18–20 102 n. 16 21:18–21 218 21:20 204 n. 3 22:1–4 138 22:28–29 140 23:20 71 24:7 140

231

232 Deuteronomy (cont.) 25:1–3 142 n. 51 26:1–15 204 n. 3 26:10–11 26 Joshua 1:14 52 2:14 76 n. 69 5:9 188 n. 72 Judges 5:19 71 n. 58 7:24 147 8:1 140 n. 47 21:22 140 n. 48 Ruth 1:1 195 3:11 52 4:9–11 142 1 Samuel 16:19 147 22:7–15 140 25:14ff. 146 2 Samuel 8:15 141 n. 49 15:12–37 144 15:35 145 15:37 145 16:20–17:7 145 17:10 81, 125 23:1 180 n. 49 1 Kings 1:6 62 n. 33 3:16–28 140 12:6–11 145 12:11 106 2 Kings 19:23 146 22 144 22:8 144 22:9 144 22:10 144 22:12–14 144 1 Chronicles 24:6 144 27:32 144 2 Chronicles 34:8–28 144 Ezra 7 144 Nehemiah 2:2 62 n. 36 5:3 71

Index of Ancient Sources 8 144 8:10 62 n. 33 9:5 105 9:17 78 n. 77 Esther 2:17 76 n. 69 Job 3:14 145 5:20 195 6:4–7 84 n. 90 9:14–16 140 n. 47 9:19 209 n. 16 9:28 62 n. 33 11:18 81 12:17 145 13:22 140 n. 47 23:12 83 n. 89 28 170 29:21–22 145 29:21–25 145 30:3 84 n. 90 32:9 184 n. 58 33:19–21 84 n. 90 39:26 65 n. 44 40:11 209 n. 14 40:23 81 42:7 214 n. 22 Psalms 1–54 165 9:19[18] 180 n. 50 10:2 112 12:7[6] 180 16:4 62 n. 33 17:12 81 18:31[30] 180 22:8–10 188 n. 72 25:6 76 n. 69 26:2 180 31:19–25[18–24] 112 33:19 195 35:17 81 35:19 180 n. 50 37 195 n. 85 37:3 187 37:5 188 n. 72 37:16–26 195 n. 85 38:17[16] 79 n. 79 42:4[3] 84 n. 90 43 143 45:1[2] 144 50:10[9] 112

Index of Ancient Sources 50:13[12] 112 50: 17[16] 112 55:23[22] 79 n. 79 57:4 81 58:7[6] 81 66:10 180 73:5–6 112 73:12 112 86:15 78 n. 77 107:17–19 84 n. 90 109:12 76 n. 69 112:2 81 n. 84 119:36 71 n. 58 119:140 180 140:4[3] 87 n. 99 146:7 84 n. 90 147:3 62 n. 33 Proverbs 1 168–170 1–2 170 n. 24, 172 1–3 13, 159, 168, 177–180, 202, 212 1–9 43 n. 6, 44, 54, 55 n. 22, 82, 113, 164, 171 n. 27, 172 n. 28, 192, 198 n. 91 and n. 93, 212, 216 n. 24 1:1–6 168, 188 1:1–7 43, 188 n. 71, 203, 218 1:2 193 1:2–3 44 1:2–3a 168 1:2–6 168 1:3 42 1:3b 169 1:4 44 1:5 58, 215 1:7 112, 151, 156, 168–173, 176, 179, 215 1:7b 168, 218 1:8–9 55 n. 22 1:10 45, 54 1:10–19 54, 58, 64 n. 40, 71, 125, 149, 196 n. 87, 212 1:11–14 55 n. 22 1:13 149 1:14 149 1:18–19 124 n. 10 1:19 71–72 1:19a 54, 71 1:20–21 129 1:20–23 169 1:20–33 215, 218 n. 30 1:23c 169

233

1:26–32 124 n. 10 1:28 206 1:29 151, 168–173, 176, 179 1:29a 168 1:30b 168 1:32 57 n. 28 1:33 166 n. 16 2 178 2:1–5 58 2:1–6 170–172, 194, 203, 218 2:1a 170 2:2a 170 2:5 170, 173 2:5–6 171, 176, 179 2:6 170 2:7–8 171, 177 2:9 212 2:10 212 2:14 165 n. 13 2:18–19 124 2:20 43 n. 6 3:1–12 171 n. 27, 172 n. 30, 173–174 3:5 65 n. 44, 166 n. 16, 172–173, 179 3:5a 158, 173 3:5b 172 3:5–7 173–174 3:5–12 171–176, 182–183, 197, 199, 203 3:6a 172 3:7a 172–173 3:7b 173 3:7 54, 85, 113, 113 n. 45, 173 3:8 174, 178 3:8–10 174 n. 38 3:9 107 3:9–10 174–177 3:10 174, 177 n. 41, 178 3:11 112 3:11–12 67, 174–179, 197 3:11a 174 3:12 192, 197, 213 3:12a 158 3:12b 174 n. 37 3:13 53, 165 3:19–20 96 3:19–26 198 n. 91 3:21 179 n. 47 3:21–26 125 3:23 125 3:24–26 54, 82, 124–125 3:25 125 n. 13 3:26 179 n. 47

234

Index of Ancient Sources

Proverbs (cont.) 3:27 54, 75 3:27–35 113, 179 n. 47 3:29–30 55 n. 22 3:29a 80 3:30 54, 80 n. 81 3:31 54, 68 3:31–32 198 n. 93 3:33 70 n. 53, 72 n. 59, 77–78, 206 3:34 209 3:35 54, 68, 77 n. 73, 100 n. 10 3:35a 106 4:1–9 43 4:8 100 n. 10, 106 4:10–12 124 4:11 43 n. 6, 154 4:14 154 4:14–19 124 4:19 216 4:23 217 n. 27 4:26 191 n. 78 5 198 n. 93 5:1–6 58 5:4–5 124 n. 10 5:6 57 n. 28, 216 5:9 54 5:11–14 54 5:14a 62 5:22 218 6:1–5 70 n. 54 6:6–11 54, 64 6:12–15 77 6:14 80 6:15 77 6:16 156 6:16–19 113, 143 6:17 54, 58 n. 30, 113, 193 6:17a 84 n. 92 6:17c 58 6:19 54, 58 n. 30, 80 n. 81 6:20–34 58 6:21 217 n. 27 6:23 154 6:23–24 55 n. 22 6:23–35 216 n. 25 6:24–35 124 n. 10, 125 6:25 217 6:27–28 195 n. 86 6:30 84 6:30–31 102, 217 6:30–32 165 n. 13

6:32 217 6:32–33 101–103 6:32–35 79 6:32a 102 6:33 68, 101 n. 14, 102 6:33a 102 6:34 78 n. 75, 184 n. 56 7:1–27 212 7:12 129 7:22–27 124 n. 10 7:23 57 n. 28, 216 7:27 124 n. 11, 154 8 131 n. 24 8:6–8 117 8:8 193 8:10 112 8:12–14 117 8:15–16 96, 129 8:17 165 n. 14 8:20 43 n. 6 8:22–31 131 8:22–36 198 n. 91 8:27 131 8:29a 131 8:30–31 62 8:32–36 43 8:34–36 96 9:6 109 9:7–8 57 9:7–9 110 9:7–12 45 9:8 54, 55 n. 22, 165 n. 13 9:8b–9 58 9:10 110, 138 n. 40, 151, 173 9:11 96, 124 9:16 109 9:18 57 n. 28 10 94, 130 10–15 45 10–29 13, 44, 159, 162–164, 183–199, 201 10–31 54–55, 129 n. 19, 138 n. 38 10:1 60, 62, 64, 102–103, 107, 130 10:1–5 94, 196 n. 87 10:1–22:16 55 10:2a 212 10:3 168 n. 19, 196 n. 87, 198 n. 90 10:4 64 n. 40, 129 10:4–5 54, 60, 63–64 10:5 65, 101 n. 14, 102–103, 106–107, 129–130, 152, 195 n. 85

Index of Ancient Sources 10:6 60, 70 n. 53 10:7 60, 100 n. 10, 106 10:10 62 10:12 61, 165 10:14 56, 102 n. 17 10:16 55, 218 10:18 58 n. 30 10:19 54, 89 10:22 62 n. 33, 131 n. 25, 198 n. 90 10:24 56, 60, 196 n. 87 10:29 102 n. 17 11:1 58 n. 30, 198 n. 92 11:1b 192 11:2 54, 60, 84, 111–112, 209 11:2a 112 11:3 51 n. 16, 154 11:7 168 n. 19, 177 n. 41 11:11 125 11:13 90 n. 104 11:14 51 n. 16, 145 11:15 70 n. 54, 81 11:17 75–76 11:20 192, 198 11:23 61, 70 n. 53 11:24 69–70, 72 11:24–26 54 11:26 69–70, 72 11:27 60, 70 n. 53, 100 n. 10, 106 11:29 72 n. 59 12–29 94 12:2 198 n. 92 12:4 52, 60, 95, 101 n. 14, 102, 103 n. 21, 197 n. 89 12:8 100–101, 106 12:8a 106 12:9 60, 104 n. 23, 113 12:10 60, 76 12:11 60, 106, 129 12:11a 129 12:12 60–61, 217 12:15 51 n. 16, 173 12:17 141 n. 49, 193 12:18 87 n. 99 12:19 58 n. 30 12:20 58 n. 30, 94 n. 2 12:22 143, 156, 192, 198 n. 92 12:22b 192 12:23 90 n. 104 12:24 64, 129 12:25 60, 81 12:27 64–65

235

12:28 177 n. 41 13:2 76 n. 68 13:3 90 n. 104, 102 n. 17 13:4 64, 84 13:5 100 n. 10 13:6 58 n. 30 13:7 70 n. 53 13:10 84 n. 92, 94 n. 2, 112 13:11 64, 72 n. 61 13:12 61 13:15 100 n. 10, 154 13:17 60–61, 147 13:18 54, 68, 100 n. 10, 101 13:19 61 13:20 148–150 13:22 52 13:24 55, 67, 96, 210 13:25 61, 84 14:2 58 n. 30, 154, 162 14:5 58 n. 30, 141–142 14:7 148 n. 69, 150 n. 73, 193 14:8 154 14:9 100 n. 10 14:14 53 14:15 57 14:16 82, 124 14:17 78 14:20 148 n. 69, 149 n. 71, 210 14:21 53–54, 75, 149 n. 71 14:22 76, 165 n. 13 14:24 65 n. 44 14:25 141–142 14:28 101 n. 14, 102, 106 14:29 55, 77–78 14:30 101 n. 12 14:31 75, 107 14:32 101 n. 12, 177 n. 41 14:35 68, 101 n. 14, 103, 106–107, 209 n. 14 15:1 62 n. 33, 78 n. 74, 80 n. 82, 87, 138 15:1b 89 15:3 198 n. 90 15:5 165 n. 14 15:5c 165 n. 14 15:8 192, 198 n. 92 15:8b 192 15:9 198 n. 92 15:11 198 n. 92 15:13 55, 61–63 15:13–17 62 n. 34 15:14 58

236

Index of Ancient Sources

Proverbs (cont.) 15:14–15 62 15:15 62, 210 15:15b 101 n. 12 15:18 78 n. 74, 80, 140 n. 48 15:20 96 15:20a 62 15:21a 62 15:22 145 15:24 62 n. 34 15:25 84 n. 92, 113, 198 n. 90 15:26 198 n. 92 15:27 54, 71–72, 166 n. 16 15:28 90–91, 138 15:29 198 n. 92 15:31–32 112 15:32 86 15:33 85, 111–113, 151, 156, 168 n. 20 15:33b 209 16:1 168 n. 19, 198 n. 90 16:2 113, 198 16:2–5 188 n. 72 16:3 168 n. 19, 188, 190–191 16:4 168 n. 19, 198 n. 90 16:5 113, 198 n. 92 16:6 162 16:7 80, 94, 191–192, 197, 198 n. 92 16:9 43, 188, 198 16:11 168 n. 19, 198 n. 90 16:13 145 16:13–15 101 n. 14 16:14 78 16:15 102–103 16:17–20 190 n. 75 16:18 111–112 16:19 85, 113 16:20 189–191 16:20–24 190 n. 75 16:20b 189, 190 n. 75 16:21 88 n. 100 16:24 88 n. 100 16:28 94 n. 2 16:31 108 16:32 78, 125 16:33 198 n. 90 17:2 72 n. 62, 101 n. 14, 103–104 17:3 198 n. 92 17:6 101 n. 14, 102, 103 n. 21, 106 17:8 72 n. 59 17:9 58 n. 30 17:11 76 n. 68, 147

17:13 72 n. 59 17:14 80 n. 81, 94 n. 2, 140 n. 48 17:15 141–142, 198 n. 92 17:18 70 17:20 58 n. 30, 190 n. 75 17:21–22 62 17:21a 62 17:26 53 17:28 90 n. 104 18:1 148 n. 69, 150 n. 73 18:2 90 n. 104 18:3 68, 100 n. 10, 106 18:7 102 n. 17 18:10–11 207 18:10–12 85, 111 n. 42 18:12 111–112, 207, 209 n. 15 18:13 100 n. 10, 140 n. 48 18:13–15 111 n. 42 18:17 140 n. 48 18:18 80 18:18–19 94 18:22 101 n. 14, 103 n. 21, 190 n. 75, 198 n. 92 18:24 148 n. 69, 150 n. 73 19:2 216 19:2a 216 19:3 192, 213 19:4 148 n. 69, 149 19:8 190 n. 75 19:10 104 n. 24 19:11 76–78 19:12 81, 101 n. 14, 125 19:14 72 n. 62, 196–197, 198 n. 90 19:15 84, 129 19:17 75, 192 n. 80 19:18 55 n. 22, 67 n. 48 19:19 77 n. 71 19:21 198 n. 90 19:22 76 n. 69 19:25 165 n. 13 19:26 101 n. 14, 102, 106 19:27 193 20:2 81, 82 n. 85, 101 n. 14, 125 20:3 80, 100 n. 10, 106, 140 n. 48 20:4 64 20:4a 129 20:9 218 20:10 143, 198 n. 92 20:10–21 190 n. 77 20:12 198 n. 90 20:15 56, 58 n. 30

Index of Ancient Sources 20:16 70 n. 54 20:17 58 n. 30 20:18 125, 145, 191 n. 78 20:19 90 n. 104, 148 n. 69, 150 n. 73 20:20 58 n. 30 20:21 72 20:22 189–191, 213 20:23 198 n. 92 20:24 184–188, 198 n. 90 20:25 91 20:27 198 n. 90 20:28 76 20:29 101 n. 14, 103 n. 21, 106 21:1 198 n. 90 21:2 113, 198 n. 92 21:3 198 n. 92 21:4 84 n. 92 21:5 64, 206 21:6 72 n. 60 21:7 75 n. 65, 185 n. 60 21:10 54, 75, 94 n. 2 21:13 75 n. 65, 77 n. 71 21:14 78 n. 74 21:21 55 n. 23 21:24 209 21:25 129 21:30 198 n. 90 21:31 125, 198 n. 90 22:1 104 22:2 198 n. 90 22:4 85, 111–113, 209 22:5 113 n. 45 22:6 43, 44 n. 7, 66 n. 46 22:8 209 n. 14 22:10 80, 94 n. 2 22:11 75 n. 66, 88 n. 100, 145 22:12 193–194, 198 n. 90 22:13 64, 125, 129 22:14 198 n. 92 22:16 67 22:17 58 22:19 184, 187–188, 213 22:21 193 22:23 140 n. 48, 143 22:24 78 n. 74 22:24–25 148 n. 69, 150 n. 73 22:26–27 70 n. 54 22:29 129, 151 n. 75 23:1–2 55, 82, 216 23:1–3 216 23:1b 65 n. 44

23:3 83 n. 87 23:4 65, 206 23:4–5 23:5 65 23:5–6 65 n. 44 23:8 88 n. 100, 148 n. 69 23:9 193 23:11 140 n. 48 23:12 67 n. 47 23:13 67, 96 23:13–14 54, 55 n. 22, 66 23:13b 67 23:14 67 n. 47 23:14b 67 23:16 58 n. 30 23:17 162–163 23:17–18 177 n. 41, 189–191 23:18 190 n. 76 23:19 43 n. 6 23:20–21 55 23:21 55, 83 23:22 58 n. 30, 108–109 23:31–35 83 24 94 24:1–2 148 n. 69, 150 n. 73 24:3–4 96 24:6 125, 145–146 24:14 96, 189 n. 74 24:14c 158 24:16 124 24:21 82, 151 24:22 148 n. 69, 151 24:23–26 58 n. 30 24:23b–25 141–142 24:25 70 n. 53 24:27 94 n. 1, 129 24:30 129 24:30–34 64, 94 n. 1, 171 n. 27 25:4 185 n. 60 25:6–7 84 n. 92, 113 25:6–7b 114 n. 50 25:7 185 n. 60 25:7–10 101 n. 14 25:7c–10 140–141 25:8a 140 n. 48 25:8c 140 n. 48 25:9 140 n. 48, 185 n. 60 25:11 91 25:13 147 25:15 88 n. 100, 91, 145 25:16 83

237

238

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Proverbs (cont.) 25:18 63 n. 37, 87 n. 99 25:20 63–64, 207–208 25:21–22 182 n. 55, 190 n. 77, 194–197 25:25 79 25:26 79–81 25:27 83 25:28 83 26 94 26:1 68, 100 n. 10, 101 26:3 174 n. 38 26:4–5 91 26:5 85 26:6 147 26:8 68, 100 n. 10, 101 26:12 85, 113 26:13 125 26:13–15 94 n. 1 26:16 113 26:17 80 n. 83, 82 n. 85, 94 n. 2 26:20 80 n. 81 26:21 94 n. 2 26:23 88 26:24 88 n. 101 26:25 75 n. 66, 88 26:26 88 n. 101 26:28 89, 195 27 94 27:4 78 n. 74, 79 27:5 88–90 27:6 150 n. 73, 165 n. 13, 197 27:12 81, 124–125 27:13 70 n. 54 27:14 62, 91 27:18 101 n. 14, 103 27:23–27 94 n. 1 27:27 72 n. 59 28:1 55, 81, 124–125 28:4 58 n. 30, 148 n. 69 28:5 143, 183–188 28:5b 184 28:6 72 28:7 96, 101–102, 107, 150 28:8 54, 71–72, 75 28:11 72 n. 63, 113, 209 28:13 58 n. 30 28:14 58 n. 30 28:15 81, 125 28:16 67, 71 n. 58 28:19 65 n. 45, 66 28:20 65 n. 44, 72 n. 61 28:21 58 n. 30 28:22 72 n. 62

28:23 68, 88, 100 n. 10, 106 28:25 189–191 29:8 80, 94 n. 2 29:10 195 29:11 90 n. 104 29:14 96 29:15 67, 102 29:18 58 n. 30 29:20 91 29:21 66 n. 46 29:22 78 n. 74 29:23 84 n. 92, 85, 111–112 29:24 86, 90, 113, 208 29:25 189 30 94 n. 3, 181 n. 52 30–31 164 30:1–4 180 n. 50 30:1–9 13, 44, 159, 168, 179–183, 197, 199, 202, 215 30:1b–3 179–180 30:2 168 n. 16 30:2–3 44 30:3 138 n. 40, 180 n. 50 30:4 180 n. 50 30:5–6 193 30:7–9 181–183, 213 30:8 182, 193 30:8–9 182 30:8c 83, 182 30:9 84 n. 90, 182 30:10 90 n. 104 30:12–13 84 n. 92, 113 30:19 184 n. 56 30:20 113 30:21–23 61, 113–114 30:22 104 n. 24 30:23b 114 30:32 84 n. 92 31:1–9 2, 96 31:3 52 31:6–9 139 n. 42 31:8 90 31:9 90 n. 105 31:10 52 31:10–31 44, 95, 130, 205 31:11–31 52 31:11a 130 31:15 83 n. 89, 95 31:15a–b 130 31:21 72 n. 59, 124–125 31:23 101 n. 14 31:25 124–125 31:26 88 n. 100, 139

Index of Ancient Sources 31:27 95 31:28 130 31:28–31 106 31:30 125, 151 31:30–31 68 Ecclesiastes 12:9–14 214 n. 22 Song of Songs 7:3 174 n. 36 Isaiah 1:26 145 3:2–3 145 4:2 105 5:20 113 n. 47 5:22 52 5:22–23 113 n. 47 8:21 182 13:9 76 n. 68 16:6 209 n. 14 18:2 147 n. 66 19:11 145 25:11 112 31:4 81, 125 38:18 180 n. 50 41:28 145 42:8 52 42:12 52 43:21 52 45:9 140 n. 47 47:7 187 57:2 147 n. 66 59:12–13 182 63:7 76 n. 69 Jeremiah 6:13 71 n. 58 6:29 180 22:15–16 141 n. 49 26:7–16 140 29:11 189 n. 74, 190 n. 76 36:4 144 36:26 144 36:32 144 49:19 81, 125, 147 50:42 76 n. 68 Ezekiel 7:26 145 16:4 174 n. 36 Daniel 11:7 52 Hosea 4:10–11 103 n. 20 Amos 3:8 81

Obadiah 1 147 n. 66 Nahum 1:3 78 n. 77 2:10–13 81 3:15 104 n. 23 Habakkuk 3:3 52 Zechariah 6:13 52 13:9 180

deuterocanonical/ apocryphal books Ben Sira 2:8–9 165, 204 37:5 150 n. 74 Wisdom of Solomon 4:1–2 52 5:13 52 8:7 11, 52, 165, 172 n. 29 8:21 172 Dead Sea Scrolls 1QS 84 n. 91 4:5 84 n. 91 5:4 84 n. 91

new testament Gospel of Mark 10:29–30 177 n. 41 Gospel of Luke 6:20–22 28 1 Corinthians 13:13 11 2 Corinthians 9:7 204 Philippians 4:8 52 Hebrews 11:1 160 12:5 204 12:5b–6 176 12:7 176 12:10 176 James 4:6 204

239

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240 1 Peter 2:9 52 4:8 204 4:18 204 5:5 204 2 Peter 1:3 52

aristotle Eudemian Ethics 1.1.4–5 23 1.3.1–2 23 1.5.15 24 n. 17 1.8 23 2.1.24–25 23 2.3.4 48 n. 13 2.6 23, 26 3.7.1–2 50 8.2.20 26 8.2.21–22 26 8.3.16 27 De Anima 3.10 20 Nicomachean Ethics 1 133 1.1 52 1.1–2 17 1.1.1 151 n. 77 1.2 52 1.2–3 31 1.2.1–3 151 n. 77 1.2.4–8 126 1.2.8 133 1.3.6–7 133–134 1.4.6 135 1.5.4 135 1.5.4–6 98, 100 1.6 23 1.7.8 17 1.7.10–14 151 1.7.15 152 1.9.1–3 26 1.9.8 133 1.13.19 30 1.13.2 133 2 18 2.1.1 23 n. 16

2.1.2–4 23 n. 14 2.1.4–8 23 2.2.3 49 n. 14 2.2.7–8 22 n. 11 2.3.1–2 21 n. 8 2.3.8 19 2.4.13 20, 48 2.5.1–2 19 2.5.1–2.6.15 47 2.5.3 54 2.6 20, 48, 53 2.6.1 30 2.6.2 18, 48, 95 2.6.2–3 95 2.6.10–11 56 2.6.11 20, 48, 66 2.6.12 53 2.6.15 18, 20, 23 n. 16, 47, 52, 152 2.6.18 58, 74 2.7.1 48 n. 13 2.7.2–3 73 2.7.11 49 n. 14, 73 2.7.13 132 n. 26, 149 n. 70 2.7.15 49 n. 14 2.7.16 42, 50 2.8.6 77 2.9.1 48 2.9.7–8 20–21 2.9.9 49 n. 14 3 120 3–6 18 3.1.24 31 n. 26 3.2.3 19 3.3.15–19 18 3.3.15–20 30 3.4.1–3 31 n. 26 3.5.23 49 n. 14 3.6.2 121 3.6.8 121 3.8 122 3.8.1–9 121 3.8.6 136 3.10.8 135 3.12.5–9 155 3.12.9 19 n. 6, 31 4.1 69 4.1.1 69 4.1.24 69 4.3 97, 115

Index of Ancient Sources 4.3.3 115 4.3.7 116 4.3.10 98, 107 4.3.14–15 107 4.3.15 98 4.3.16 98 4.3.18–20 107 4.3.27 98 4.3.28 137 4.3.35 98, 116 4.3.36 98, 116 4.3.37 116 4.4 98 4.5.1–2 73 4.6 31 n. 25, 50, 66, 132 n. 26, 149 n. 70, 156 4.6–8 137 n. 37 4.7 115–116, 137 4.7–8 135 4.7.2–3 116 4.7.3 116 4.7.4 116 4.7.9 116 4.7.14 116, 136 4.7.16 136 4.7.17 116 4.8 137 4.8.5–7 135 4.8.12 137 n. 37 5 42 6 18 6.2.5 19, 47 6.5 153 n. 79 6.5.1 22, 153 n. 79 6.8.5 21 n. 8, 22 6.8.6 22 6.8.9 22 6.9.1 20 6.9.7 20 6.12.2 22 6.12.6 20 6.12.10 22 n. 11 6.13.1–2 22–23 6.13.3 136 6.13.3–5 21 7 50 7.2.1 136 7.2.1–6 19 n. 6 7.3.13 136

7.6.1 31 7.7.8–7.8.1 19 n. 6 7.9 19 n. 6, 31 7.10.2 22 n. 11 8.2.1–2 31 n. 25 8.3.2 149 8.3.5 31 n. 25 8.3.6 150 8.5.2, 4 31 n. 25 8.7.5 26 8.8–9 115 8.8.5 118 8.9.4–6 151 9.4.1–5 118 9.4.9 109 n. 39 9.8.7 118 9.8.9–10 117 9.9.1–7 23 n. 16 10.1 121 10.6–8 25 n. 20 10.7.6 122 10.7.6–7 128 10.8.7 25, 156 10.8.9–10 126, 128 n. 18 10.8.13 26 10.9.1–2 151 10.9.6 23 Poetics 2.13 124 Politics 2.4.7 135 3.1.8 126 3.2.9 127 3.3.1 126 3.3.3 127 3.3.6 126 4.10.9 135 4.11 51 5.7.8 135 5.7.14 133 6.3.5 135 7.1.6 126 7.8.2 127 Rhetoric 1.1.13–14 132 1.2 98 1.9.6 121 1.9.8 121 1.11.14–16 98

241

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242 Rhetoric (cont.) 1.13.13–19 100 n. 8 2.1.7 132 3.12 98

plato Apology 24c 98 25c–26a 24 n. 17 29d–31a 24 n. 17 Euthydemus 279–280 16 n. 3 278d–e 24 n. 17 283a 24 n. 17 288d 24 n. 17 289b 24 n. 17 Gorgias 460–480 16 n. 3 489e 136 n. 33 510a 54 n. 21 Laches 196d–197e 123 n. 7 Meno 71e–73a 15, 18 77b–78b 16 82b–84c 24 n. 17 87–89 16 n. 3 87c–d 15 88c–e 15 89a–c 16 89b–c 24 n. 17 89d–91c 24 n. 17 91a 15, 18 98c 15 98c–100b 24 n. 17 99b–100b 24 n. 17 Protagoras 330–360 16 n. 3 352–353 218 n. 31 352b–c 16 357c 16 358c 17 n. 5 Republic 337 136 358a 54 n. 21 442b–c 123 494a 54 n. 21 Symposium 216d–e 137 n. 35

thomas aquinas Disputed Questions on Virtue 1 29 4 34 4 ad 1 34 4 ad 8 35 6 30 6 ad 6 30 8 29 9 33, 35 10 33 11–12 33 12 31, 160 12 ad 4 29 12 ad 7 177 n. 42 12 ad 9 31 13 36, 166 Summa Theologica I 1.8 36 I 6.2 33 I 82.3 30–31 I 83.3 ad 2 30 I 83.3–4 31 I–II 1.7 ad 1 34 I–II 5.3 177 I–II 19.2 34 I–II 19.3 ad 2 30 I–II 19.4 34–35 I–II 19.4 ad 1 36 I–II 19.9–10 35 I–II 21.1 34 I–II 55.4 30 n. 24 I–II 57.5 11 I–II 61 30 I–II 61–65 187 I–II 62 212 n. 19 I–II 62.3 160 n. 4 I–II 62.3–4 11 I–II 62.4 161 I–II 63 161 I–II 63.2–3 172 I–II 63.4 33 I–II 64.4 166 I–II 65 159 n. 3 I–II 65.1 30 I–II 66.1 165 I–II 67.4 166 n. 16 I–II 68.4 166 n. 16 I–II 69.3 165 I–II 73.4 165

Index of Ancient Sources I–II 73.5 165 I–II 77.2 165 n. 13 I–II 78.1–2 165 n. 13 I–II 92.1 36 I–II pr 33 II–II 1.6–9 160 II–II 1.8 170 n. 25, 171 II–II 2–7 172 n. 29 II–II 4.1 160 II–II 4.5 160 II–II 4.7 160 II–II 7.2 165 II–II 10.1 167 II–II 10.3 169 II–II 10.5 167 II–II 12 165 n. 13 II–II 14 165 n. 13 II–II 17 160 II–II 17.1 160, 177 n. 43, 182, 195 II–II 17.2 177 II–II 17.2 ad 2 177 n. 43 II–II 17.3 175 II–II 17.4 177 n. 42 II–II 17.5 166 II–II 17.6 160 II–II 20–21 166 II–II 20.3 165 n. 13 II–II 20.4 196 II–II 21.1 190 II–II 23.1 160 II–II 25.1 163 II–II 25.8 165 II–II 25.9 165 n. 14 II–II 28–33 175 II–II 29 192 II–II 29.1 192 II–II 30.2 165 n. 13 II–II 32 192 n. 80 II–II 32.2 165 n. 13 II–II 33.2 165 n. 13 II–II 33.6 165 n. 13 II–II 34.1 167, 174 II–II 37.1 165 n. 13 II–II 41.2 165 II–II 45.4 166 n. 16 II–II 49.3 166 n. 16 II–II 55.3 165 II–II 56.1 165 II–II 57.5 166 II–II 62.1 166 II–II 65.5 165 n. 14

243

II–II 72.4 165 II–II 73.2 165 II–II 149.4 165 III 69.4 35

other Ahiqar 81 67 n. 49 Ani 18.13–14 131 n. 25 Amenemope 1.7 154 Aristophenes Clouds 449 136 n. 33 Augustine City of God V 29 n. 23 XIX 29 n. 23 Expositio Evangelii Secundum Lucam 5.64–67 29 n. 23 Demosthenes 60.17 51 Heraclitus Fragments 104 51 Homer Iliad 9.498 51 13.176 123 20.411 51 Talmud Yerushalmi Berahot 2.7/6 131 n. 25 Thucydides 5.50.4 98 Xenophon Memorabilia 1.1.10 32 n. 27 1.1.11 32 n. 27 1.1.19 32 n. 27 2.1.21 154 n. 83 4.3.1–9 32 n. 27 4.3.11 32 n. 27 4.3.11–12 32 n. 27 4.4.14 54 n. 21 Symposium 7.63 154 n. 81

Index of Authors and Topics

abuse 59, 67, 74, 76, 88–89 adultery 13, 58, 78 n. 75, 79, 101–103, 125, 148, 165 n. 13, 210, 217–218 agon (ἀγών) agonistic context 98–100, 105, 109–110, 202 anger 19, 31, 47, 50, 54, 55 n. 22, 56, 58–60, 75–81, 87–89, 92, 96–97, 138, 156, 165 slow to 55 n. 22, 59, 76–80, 97, 206 Ansberry, Christopher B. 1, 11, 43, 45, 56–58, 216–217 appetite 48, 55, 59–61, 75, 82–84, 87, 92, 97, 210, 216–217 Aquinas, Thomas xi, 1–4, 6–7, 11–15, 28–37, 41–42, 46, 49, 157–183, 186–193, 195–196, 198–203, 204, 212 n. 19, 214–215, 218, 220 Aristotle 1–7, 9 n. 18, 10–15, 17–38, 41–43, 45–51, 53–54, 56–59, 61, 63–64, 66, 68–70, 73–75, 77, 82, 84, 86, 87 n. 98, 89, 92–93, 95–98, 100, 107–111, 113, 115–129, 131–137, 147–158, 159 n. 1, 165–166, 199, 201–203, 207, 210, 214–215, 217, 219–220 associations, interpersonal see: friendship Athens 98–100, 105, 108–110, 122, 126–129, 134–135, 142, 214 Barton, John 1, 11 n. 21, 104 n. 22, 187 Becker, Joachim 173 Blenkinsopp, Joseph 5, 8 n. 15, 203–204 Bovati, Pietro 139–140

Brown, Stephen 170–171 Brown, William P. 2 n. 5, 45 n. 10, 169 n. 23 Bühlmann, Walter 87 n. 98, 89 n. 103, 141 n. 49 Cessario, Romanus 159 n. 3, 160, 177, 186 n. 64 character types 3, 41, 44–47, 53, 56–58, 70 n. 53, 73 n. 64, 108, 125, 153–154, 196 n. 87, 201, 205–211, 214 charity 13, 33, 158, 160–168, 175–183, 191–193, 196–197, 199, 202–203, 213 cheer 54–55, 59–63, 68, 93, 97, 204 n. 3, 207, 211 citizen(s) 33, 39 n. 36, 99–100, 108, 121–122, 126, 129, 132–135, 161 coddling 59, 66–67, 74, 88–89, 218 Cohen, David 99–100 competition 98–99, 107–110 contention 59, 80–81 counselor 144–148 courage 2–3, 6, 11, 13, 29, 50–51, 59, 61, 73, 78 n. 76, 79, 81–82, 93–97, 118, 120–126, 128, 134, 148, 152, 155–156, 202, 208 cowardice 50, 59, 73, 81–82, 121 creed(s) 160, 167, 170–172, 179, 183, 186, 199 Crenshaw, James 143 Crisp, Roger 99 n. 4, 108 cruelty 59, 75–77, 87–88, 206, 213 Davies, Brian 170 despair 106, 165–167, 196

244

Index of Authors and Topics Dickson, John 85, 111 diffidence 59, 86, 111, 209 diligence 3, 59, 63–66, 73, 86, 92, 97, 129–132, 153, 195–196, 206, 209, 214 discipline 23, 31, 55 n. 22, 58–60, 66–67, 73–75, 86, 88–89, 92, 96–97, 155–156, 174–176, 178, 197, 215, 217 n. 28, 220 dispute 54, 59–60, 75, 79–81, 87, 92, 94, 97, 139–142, 156, 208 n. 13 Dover, Kenneth 99, 110, 154 n. 81 drunkenness 21, 55, 59, 83, 102 n. 16 eudaimonia 24, 34 n. 28, 46 n. 12, 118 n. 54, 154, 159 error human problem 13–15, 19, 21–25, 28, 31, 34–35, 41, 53–54, 65–66, 71–73, 75, 83, 91, 113, 116–117, 165–167, 190, 192–193, 196, 203, 206, 208, 214–220 faith 2–3, 11, 13, 33, 41, 158–164, 166–174, 179–188, 191–194, 197–199, 202, 212–213 fear 2, 16, 47, 50, 52, 54–55, 58–60, 73, 75, 79, 81–82, 87, 92, 96–97, 120–122, 124–125, 166, 182, 218 fear of the Lord 85, 96, 111–113, 151, 156, 162–163, 168–170, 173, 189–190, 209, 215 folly fool 45–46, 57–58, 62, 64 n. 40, 68–69, 77–78, 80, 82, 91–92, 100–101, 109–110, 114, 116, 130, 147, 149–151, 168–169, 171 n. 27, 173, 192–193, 205–209, 212, 218 Fontaine, Carole 139, 208 n. 11 Fox, Michael V. 1, 62 n. 34, 63 n. 37, 64 n. 41, 71–72, 75 n. 65, 83 n. 87, 85 n. 96, 88 n. 102, 90, 101 n. 12, 140 n. 48, 151 n. 75, 154, 170 n. 24, 172 n. 30, 173, 186, 188, 190, 192–193, 197 n. 89, 216–218 friendship 13, 23 n. 16, 27, 37, 58 n. 30, 83 n. 88, 93–95, 99–100, 115, 117–120, 135, 148–151, 155–156, 160, 163, 175–178, 202 generosity 19, 23, 35, 45, 53–55, 59, 69–73, 75, 86, 92, 96–97, 149 n. 71, 152, 163, 176, 184, 192 n. 80, 204 n. 3, 206, 208–209, 218

245

Gericke, Jaco 8–10 gladness 59, 61–63, 73, 86, 92, 96–97, 207 gluttony 21, 48, 55, 59, 83, 101–102, 213 good, the 2–5, 9, 15–17, 30–34, 37–39, 51–52, 123, 127, 133, 149–153, 159 n. 3, 160, 178, 181–183, 187, 189, 192, 195, 212 n. 20, 216–219 goodness 15, 34, 51–53, 107–110, 113, 115–119, 133, 149, 151–155, 160, 167, 179, 208 Gottlieb, Paula 137 greed 19, 25, 49, 54–55, 59, 65 n. 43, 69–73, 189, 206, 209, 213, 218 hatred (of God) 167, 169, 174–175, 179, 182–183, 213 Hauerwas, Stanley 7 n. 14, 204 Hazony, Yoram 6 n. 12, 7–10 honor 13, 50, 52, 55 n. 23, 59, 68–69, 73, 80, 86, 92–93, 95–124, 126–127, 134–135, 148, 153–156, 163, 202, 206, 208–209 hope 3, 11, 13, 33, 41, 158–161, 163–164, 166–168, 172–174, 177–183, 186, 188–197, 199, 202–203, 212–213 horizon earthly, heavenly 176–179, 181, 199, 203 human nature 13–19, 21–37, 159, 202–214 humility 10, 13, 59, 84–86, 93–97, 110–119, 136, 156, 163, 181 n. 52, 200, 202–204, 207–210 hunger 59, 84, 129, 181 n. 52, 194–196, 210, 217 Hursthouse, Rosalind 11, 38, 204 n. 3, 220 imitatio Dei 138 n. 40, 159 n. 3, 178–179 intellect, the 19, 28, 30–31, 34, 37, 43, 45, 47, 61, 128, 144, 160, 167, 185–186, 194 Joachim, H. H. 133–135 Johnson, Dru 9 n. 18, 214 n. 22 Keefer, Arthur 43 n. 5, 44 n. 9, 124 n. 11, 153 n. 80, 180 n. 51, 188 n. 71, 196 n. 87, 198 n. 91 and n. 93 kindness 55 n. 23, 59, 61, 75–77, 87–88, 97, 114 n. 48, 138–139, 156, 163, 206 Lanni, Adriaan 99 n. 7, 142–143 law(s) see: moral absolutes

246

Index of Authors and Topics

laziness see: sloth leniency 59, 76–77, 87–88, 206–208 levity 59, 62–63, 207–208 Longman, Tremper 171 n. 27, 174, 181 love 3, 11, 16, 26, 29–32, 37, 41, 52, 61, 67, 100 n. 9, 110, 113, 118, 145, 149–150, 158–168, 174–179, 182, 191–193, 196–200, 202–204, 212–213, 219 LXX see: Septuagint Lyu, Sun Myung 46 MacIntyre, Alasdair 3–4, 7, 11–12, 14, 38–41, 49 n. 15, 107 n. 33, 108, 123 n. 3, 204 mean, the 13, 18, 20–25, 28, 36–37, 47–49, 51, 53, 56–59, 63, 65, 67, 69, 73–74, 77, 81–82, 84, 89–90, 92, 100, 113–114, 152–153, 156, 166, 206, 210–211, 217 Meier, Samuel 146–147 Meinhold, Arndt 62 n. 33 and n. 34, 65 n. 44, 78 n. 76, 79, 80 n. 82, 103 n. 20, 111 n. 42, 185 n. 60, 190 n. 75 mercy 54, 55 n. 23, 59–61, 72, 75–77, 87–89, 92, 94, 97, 156, 163, 175, 206, 208, 213 messenger 60, 103 n. 20, 144, 146–148 moral absolutes 2, 8, 10 n. 20, 12 n. 25, 23, 34–37, 58, 61, 71, 84, 87 n. 98, 98–102, 109, 114, 121, 131 n. 25, 132–134, 142–143, 148, 185 n. 60, 203–204, 211, 218–219 moral tradition 2–8, 11–14, 38–41, 42 n. 2, 49, 93–97, 119–120, 122–124, 131 n. 25, 136–137, 147–148, 151, 154–155, 157, 200–201, 203–205, 211, 215, 220–221 Mossé, Claude 127–128 Olyan, Saul 149–150 Pakaluk, Michael 49 n. 14, 124 n. 9 passivity 59, 81, 208 n. 13 paths 44, 109, 124, 154–155, 178, 186, 208, 211–212 peacemaking 59, 87, 96–97, 156, 192, 204 n. 3, 208 n. 13

Penner, Terry 16–17 philosophical interpretation 6–9, 214, 220–221 Plöger, Otto 68 n. 51, 101 n. 15, 102 n. 17, 103 n. 21, 184, 190 n. 75, 217 n. 28 polis 14, 23 n. 16, 108, 120–129, 132–135, 150–151, 156 presumption 166–167, 190–191 pride 13, 25, 50, 59, 61, 84–86, 93–94, 96–97, 110–114, 117, 119–120, 197 n. 89, 209–210 prodigality see: wealth rashness 50, 59, 73, 82, 91–92 regard from others 54–55, 59–60, 68–69, 96–97, 104 n. 23, 120, 153 reproving 54–55, 59, 66–68, 74, 88–89, 97, 101, 109–110, 141, 158, 165 n. 13, 168, 174–175, 192, 204 n. 3 roles, social 17, 29, 38–41, 100–111, 113–115, 119, 127, 133–134, 137, 139, 144–147 Rosner, Brian 85, 111 Rubarth, Scott 22 n. 9, 153 Schockenhoff, Eberhard 163–164, 178 Schwab, Zoltan 124 n. 12, 168 n. 20, 178–179 scribe 144, 147 Sekine, Seizo¯ 6 n. 11, 9 n. 18 self-control 55, 59, 61, 78 n. 76, 83–84, 97, 134, 204 n. 3, 208–210 self-deprecation 50, 116, 119, 132, 136–137 self-regard 54, 59–60, 75, 84–87, 92, 94 n. 3, 96–97, 101 n. 13, 110–120, 156, 209, 214 Septuagint 52, 88 n. 102, 125 n. 13, 165 n. 14, 174 n. 36 and n. 37, 180 n. 49, 209 n. 15 shame 13, 59, 63–65, 68–69, 93, 95, 97–107, 110–114, 119–122, 128, 130, 141, 148, 150, 155, 202, 206 sloth 49, 59, 63–66, 84, 103, 129, 131, 206, 209 Socrates 6, 11–12, 14–21, 24, 28–30, 32–37, 41, 43, 136–137, 215–220 sorrow see: cheer

Index of Authors and Topics speech 13, 50, 54, 59–61, 84, 92–97, 100 n. 10, 120, 126, 132–148, 152, 155, 181 n. 52, 184, 190 n. 75, 193 n. 82, 200–202, 204 quality of 87–88 quantity of 89–90 purpose of 88–89 timing of 90–92 spiritlessness 50, 59, 79, 81 statesmen 132–137, 147 Stewart, Anne 11, 108 n. 37, 124 n. 12, 174 n. 38, 204–205, 208 n. 12, 211, 216 n. 25 stinginess 50, 54–55, 59, 69–72 Treier, Daniel J. 1, 82, 162–164 unbelief 165 n. 13, 167, 169, 179 virtue anthropology and 16–19, 28–32, 35, 37, 41, 134–135, 164, 214, 221 source of 14, 21–26, 28, 36–37, 41, 187, 212, 220 divine 23–27, 32–33, 35–37, 107, 110, 158, 159–162, 178–179, 187 theological 3, 11, 13, 32–33, 36, 41, 61, 157, 158–200 (esp. 159–168), 202–204, 210–214 cultivation of 14, 16–17, 21 n. 8, 23–25, 33, 35–37, 41, 128 n. 17, 133, 187, 199, 202 moral 17–21, 27–28, 36–37, 42–92 (esp. 47–51, 53–61), 158, 201–214 presentation of 203–220 vice and 3, 13, 20, 46–48, 50, 53–54, 57 n. 28, 59, 66, 69–70, 73–75, 78, 81, 86–88, 92, 115–117, 125, 131, 136,

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154 n. 83, 158, 165–166, 196, 201–202, 206–209, 211, 213–214, 218–219 relation of moral and theological 166, 212–214 Hebrew vocabulary for 51–53 Waltke, Bruce 61–63, 68, 70 n. 53, 75–76, 83 n. 87, 103 n. 21, 104 n. 24, 125, 147, 177 n. 41, 194, 197 n. 89 wealth 27, 52, 54, 59–60, 64–66, 69–73, 84 n. 90, 85 n. 96, 96–97, 100, 104–105, 107, 111, 128 n. 18, 129–130, 135, 149, 163, 174, 176, 196–197 Wengst, Klaus 115 Whybray, R. N. 44, 62 n. 33, 67 n. 48, 68 n. 51, 70 n. 53, 77 n. 73, 79 n. 79, 87 n. 99, 91 n. 109, 111 n. 42, 114 n. 48, 125 n. 14, 145 n. 61, 190 n. 76, 191 n. 78 will, the 29, 34, 53 n. 20, 160, 167, 212, 219 wisdom 7 n. 15, 11, 15 n. 2, 18, 42–44, 50–51, 53, 62, 76–77, 82, 84–85, 91 n. 109, 96, 100–114, 117–119, 125, 129–131, 138 n. 40, 139, 142 n. 52, 143, 151, 154, 156, 163, 166 n. 16, 168–174, 179 n. 47, 180–181, 188, 190 n. 75, 194, 198, 206–209, 211–212, 214–216, 218–219 work 13, 49, 54, 58–60, 63–66, 68–69, 93–97, 103, 106, 120, 126–132, 138, 148, 155–156, 202, 206, 208 wrath 59, 62 n. 34, 78, 80–81, 87, 102–103, 138, 148, 206, 209 n. 14 wrongdoing 33–35, 37, 89 n. 103, 94 n. 3, 138, 207–208, 213, 216–220 Wu, Daniel 105–106