Tolstoyan Ethics

"Tolstoy is the greatest moralist of the twentieth century." --Kozlov and Kuvakin

In After Virtue, Alisdair MacIntyre argues that "Aristotle and Nietzsche represent the only two compelling alternatives in contemporary moral theory" [MacIntyre, "The Claims of After Virtue," The MacIntyre Reader, edited by Kelvin Knight, Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press (1998), 71].

MacIntyre is undoubtedly correct in his assessment; therefore, anyone who reads him and takes his statement to heart must understand that contemporary moral theory is the last place one should go to seek out moral guidance.

This does not mean that there is no guidance to be had, only that philosophy departments in our colleges and universities are not the repositories of such guidance. They see their mission differently than, say, Socrates did.

Or Tolstoy, for that matter. And this is a good thing, really. With any luck, academic philosophy will continue to ignore the 20th century's greatest moralist and, instead, occupy itself with the likes of Aristotle and Nietzsche. For there is no shame in that. Meanwhile, those who want to know, in Wallace Stevens's inimitable phrase, "how to live, what to do," can turn to Tolstoy. But be forewarned: as an ethicist (as in everything else), Tolstoy was not just a shot of Stolichnaya, but a fortified shot of Stolichnaya. Those readers who feel that imbibing such strong drink would be detrimental to their health are advised to surf elsewhere in the world wide web.

Tolstoy's ethics are, notoriously, an unapologetically literalistic reading of the Near Eastern prophetic tradition as summarized and revised in the Sermon on the Mount. Such a reading is notorious because it flies in the face of twenty centuries of ecclesiastical rationalization of that Sermon. Indeed, the history of that Sermon's reception by Biblical exegetes, Christian ethicists and theologians may be accurately viewed as a concerted attempt to explain how it is that Jesus did not intend his followers to enact his admonition to resist not evil with evil but, instead, to love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them (see Matthew 5: 38-48). Consequently, they gladly take refuge in the Pauline notion of the "scandal of the cross" (1 Corinthians 1: 18-21). But the true scandal, as Tolstoy knew, is not the cross--for that is really ordinary tragedy, business as usual in the workaday world. The cross is used by the Church to avoid confrontation with the true scandal of Jesus' teachings: it is nothing less than a dodge and a smoke-screen.

A case in point: In his article on Matthew's Gospel in the Oxford Bible Commentary (edited by John Barton and John Muddiman, 2001), Dale C. Allison, Jr. assures the reader that the "SM" (Sermon on the Mount)

"must be associated with the Kingdom of God. The SM does not speak to ordinary people in ordinary circumstances. It instead addresses itself to those overtaken by an overwhelming reality. This reality can remake an individual and beget a new life. Beyond that, the SM sees all through the eyes of eternity. It does not so much look forward, from the present to the consummation, as back from the consummation to the present. Mt 5-7 presents the unadulterated will of God because it proclaims the will of God as it will be lived when the kingdom comes in its fullness. This is why the SM is so radical, so heedless of all earthly contingencies, why it always blasts complacency and shallow moralism and disturbs every good conscience" (p. 853, emphases added).

Were he alive today to read this particular instance of exegetical legerdemain, Tolstoy would not be able to conceal his utter contempt for it. Allison, in lock-step with centuries of similar attempts to evade the Messianic call to institute justice through non-participation in injustice, attempts to let Christians off the hook. "Don't worry," he says, "these injunctions are not meant for ordinary believers like you and me in the world as we presently experience it. Oh no! This is 'Kingdom-speak.' Jesus is providing us with a glimpse of how life on earth will be when God's Kingdom has come. No need to beat your swords into plowshares yet. In fact, keep them sharp and at the ready, for, until the Kingdom arrives in its glory, the world will be filled with bad guys in need of dispatching."

As Tolstoy would point out, however, such a reading is patent nonsense. Jesus is not providing anyone with a glimpse of how life will be when the Kingdom has arrived on earth; for, as he and his listeners would have known full well, the picture of that life had already been provided to Israel in its sacred scriptures (e.g., Isaiah 2:4, 11:6, 65:25; Ezekiel 34:25; Hosea 2:18; Job 5:23). When the Kingdom has arrived, the lion will lie down with the lamb and the nations will learn war no more. It is obvious, then, that the injunctions given by Jesus during the Sermon on the Mount will be superfluous when the Kingdom has come. That's right: superfluous. Obsolete. When the Kingdom comes, the need to turn the other cheek will no longer exist because it would never occur to anyone in God's Kingdom to strike another person in the first place.

Tolstoy's reading of the Sermon on the Mount is the only credible one: the injunctions of that Sermon are designed to bring about the Kingdom of God--to realize it on earth by means of a radical reorientation of human behavior towards non-violence. Any other interpretation of this Sermon is itself an act of violence against the Messianic preaching of Jesus; it is to crucify the man anew.

Tolstoy saw this as did his disciple Mohandas K. Gandhi (a Hindu), and Gandhi's close associates Hermann Kallenbach (a Jew) and Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan (a Muslim). Martin Luther King, Jr. followed Gandhi into non-violence, demonstrating that the teachings of Jesus may also be embraced by practicing Christians as well.

In 1901, Lev Tolstoy was excommunicated by the Russian Orthodox Church for his unconventional interpretation of the Messianic teachings of Christ.

And so it goes.