I’m currently working my way through 20th-century German theologian Gerhard Von Rad’s two-volume Old Testament Theology, one of the classics in its field. Von Rad was very much a product of his era and his national heritage in terms of his theology, and a lot of what he says would undoubtedly be very troubling to anyone who is firmly committed to evangelical touchstones like the verbal inspiration of Scripture and so forth, but in spite of any shortcomings in his theological framework, his work is incredibly erudite and illuminating with regard to the cultural and theological milieu of the Old Testament.
Anyway, toward the end of Volume 1, in a section regarding the way in which Israel thought theologically about her relationship and response to God, he offers some insightful comments on the notion of righteousness which I thought were worth passing on, especially since they shed some important light on the biblical connections between holiness and justice, which I have explored in a series of previous posts. Von Rad’s contention is that the major Hebrew root word that is typically translated with words such as “righteous,” “just,” and “righteousness” in the Old Testament (the transliteration of the root is tsdq, and the transliteration of the common form for “righteousness” is tsidqah) is fundamentally a relational concept rather than a purely legal one having to do with the rightness or wrongness of a particular behavior. I found this interesting, as it jibes well with a lot of the relational theology that I have been exposed to over the last few years, ultimately centering on the Great Commandment. Given the conceptual framework that von Rad describes, it seems inexplicable and tragic that both Jews and Christians later tended to embrace an idea of righteousness that focused on the moral behavior of the isolated individual, thus divorcing the biblical notion of tsdq from its proper holistic, relational context. After reading von Rad’s treatment of this issue, it dawned on me that in fact the biblical concept of tsidqah or “righteousness” binds together what we mean by “holiness” and what we mean by “justice” under the unifying umbrella of relationship. Undoubtedly, our abandonment of this ancient relational conception of righteousness has contributed to the divergence between a concern for holiness on the one hand and a concern for justice on the other that has come to define our post-19th century political and religious landscape in the West.
Here’s the passage:
There is absolutely no concept in the Old Testament with so central a significance for all the relationships of human life as that of tsidqah. It is the standard not only for man’s relationship to God, but also for his relationships to his fellows, reaching right down to the most petty wranglings—indeed, it is even the standard for man’s relationship to the animals and to his natural environment. Tsidqah can be described without more ado as the highest value in life, that upon which all life rests when it is properly ordered. But what do we mean by it? Theology has for long now ingenuously explained the concept in the light of her own presuppositions, that is, the presuppositions of the West. Its content seemed to be given by the translation in the Vulgate (iustitia), and by the German word Gerechtigkeit, namely, a man’s proper conduct over against an absolute ethical norm, a legality which derives its norm from the absolute idea of justice. From this absolute norm, it was supposed, issued absolute demands and absolute claims. In social respects, justice so understood watches with complete impartiality over these claims and takes care that each man gets his own (iustitia distributiva). Thus, the only remaining question was, what is the norm that the Old Testament presupposes? But, oddly enough, no matter how urgently it was sought, no satisfactory answer to this question of an absolute norm could be found in the Old Testament. The reason was that the question itself was a wrong one, and in consequence the statements in the Old Testament simply could not be brought into harmony with this way of thinking. . . . As we now see, the mistake lay in seeking and presupposing an absolute ideal ethical norm, since ancient Israel did not in fact measure a line of conduct or an act by an ideal norm, but by the specific relationship in which the partner had at the time to prove himself true. “Every relationship brings with it certain claims upon conduct, and the satisfaction of these claims, which issue from the relationship and in which alone the relationship can persist, is described by our term tsdq.” The way in which it is used shows that “Tsdq is out and out a term denoting relationship, and that it does this in the sense of referring to a real relationship between two parties . . . and not to the relationship of an object under consideration to an idea” (H. Cremer, Biblisch-theologisches Worterbuch, 1893). To some extent, therefore, the specific relationship in which the agent finds himself is itself the norm: only, it must be borne in mind that people are constantly moving in very many relationships, each one of which carries its own particular law with it. A man belongs to the family, to a political association (clan, nation), he is involved in economic life, and, if circumstances so decree, he can also come into association with foreigners—every day may bring a new relationship. And over and above all these, there is the relationship which Jahweh had offered to Israel, and which was chiefly maintained in the cult. Here too the same holds true—the just man is the one who measures up to the particular claims which this relationship lays upon him. When Israel praises the justice of Jahweh, she thanks him that he stands on Israel’s side and in his action avows himself to her. . . . Jahweh’s righteousness was not a norm, but acts, and it was these acts which bestow salvation. . . . Men’s common life was also judged wholly from the point of view of faithfulness to a relationship. When Saul said that David was more righteous than he himself, he meant that David had taken the relationship existing between the two of them more seriously and given more heed to it than Saul could say of himself (1 Samuel 24:17). . . . Naturally, it was quite frequently the task of the local judge to investigate a man’s conduct with reference to his loyalty to a relationship, and to declare him blameless or deserving of punishment. Nevertheless it cannot be held that this Old Testament concept of righteousness is specifically forensic, for it embraces the whole of Israelite life, wherever men found themselves in mutual relationships. And in particular, conduct loyal to a relationship includes far more than mere correctness or legality, that is, righteousness in our sense of the word. Such dependence upon one another demanded the showing of kindness, faithfulness, and, as circumstances arose, helpful compassion to the poor or the suffering. . . . A very extreme piece of evidence for tsidqah . . . is handed on in the story of Tamar, the daughter-in-law of Judah. Dressed as a cult prostitute she seduced her father-in-law and conceived by him. As she was being led out to be put to death, the motive of her action became known. She wanted even by the most extreme of means to raise up descendants for her dead husband’s family, and because she had shown loyalty to her relationship to this family, she was “more righteous” than her father-in-law, who had refused to give her his youngest son in marriage (Genesis 38:26). But what in the world has this to do with our concept of righteousness? Thus our German word Gerechtigkeit is unfortunately not only a very inadequate rendering of the Hebrew tsidqah, but is often virtually misleading.
