Timothy Eves–author CONTINUED
*Despite the permission to eat meat, the ideal diet remains vegetarian. For this reason, God looks forward to the eventual restoration of the vegetarian utopia:
The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 11:6-9)
God has a plan for human beings and animals alike, none to hurt, destroy, or eat any other. Since helping God carry out his plans is better than waiting for him to do the work himself, God would be pleased if we abandon our carnivorous habits now. Although vegetarianism, as God indicates to Noah and his sons, is no longer obligatory, it is still morally best.
Morally Best
Because the Bible was written and edited over a period of many centuries by a medley of people whose agendas sometimes conflicted, we might wonder whether the Bible is as unified in its ethical stance on animals as the interpretation just outlined suggests. Possibly, some of the Bible’s contributors were less friendly to animals than were others. Conceivably, some were downright hostile. Nonetheless, let us assume for the sake of argument that our interpretation is correct—entirely correct. From this assumption, may we infer that the Bible squares with moral vegetarianism? A brief characterization of moral vegetarianism will at this point be useful.
Like any other vegetarians, moral vegetarians restrict their intake of animal foods, the more fastidious abjuring all animal products, while the less discriminating enjoy eggs and dairy products, or—if semi-vegetarians count as vegetarians—even some meat. What distinguishes moral vegetarians is not their diet, but the reasons they have for their diet. Non-moral vegetarians adopt their diet for such reasons as that it is the healthiest, or the cheapest, or the most savory, or that it is a custom rooted in their family or culture. Moral vegetarians, too, sometimes resort to these reasons, but, in contrast with their non-moral counterparts, they also allege that a vegetarian diet is morally best. Frequently, their moral concerns about eating animals spill over into moral concerns about other uses of animals, so that many of them, for example, choose not to wear leather or fur.
To say that something is morally best, however, is to hold either of two positions: that it is obligatory (within the call of duty) or that it is supererogatory (above and beyond the call of duty). Accordingly, we might agree with Jesus that loving our enemies and turning the other cheek are morally best, yet question whether these things are our duty or whether, requiring a saintly character, they go beyond the call of duty. Similarly, accepting that a vegetarian diet is morally best, we might believe either that it is an obligation, no matter how powerfully we may crave a steak, or that, while suitable for a saint, it is too much to ask of ordinary folk. Hence, we have two kinds of moral vegetarianism, which we may call obligatory and supererogatory vegetarianism.
God’s Mistake
In many respects, the Bible, on the interpretation under consideration, upholds moral vegetarianism. Eden is truly a vegetarian utopia. Eating from “every plant yielding seed” and “every tree with seed in its fruit” (Genesis 1:29), Adam and Eve are strict vegans, never touching meat, not even poultry or fish, and never tasting eggs or dairy products. Indeed, if they eat only the seeds and fruit and not the plants and trees, they are fruitarians, killing neither animals nor plants. Furthermore, like many moral vegetarians, Adam and Eve wear no leather or fur. Instead, they go naked—that is, until they eat the illicit fruit, upon which they clothe themselves first with fig leaves and then with the “garments of skins” (Genesis 3:21) that God fashions for them. Consequently, before the original sin, Adam and Eve fulfill their divinely given role as stewards, caring for animals as God cares for us. Since Eden represents the ideal, caring for animals rather than eating them or wearing their skins must be morally best.
This leaves the distinction between obligatory and supererogatory vegetarianism. As we are interpreting it, the Bible advocates the first under one set of circumstances and the second under another. When human beings live in an Eden-like paradise, without sin, doing God’s bidding, vegetarianism is obligatory. But when we turn away from God, when sin permeates our nature, vegetarianism is supererogatory. For an enormously long time now, nearly all of human history, we have lived under the latter circumstances. Thus, in all but the most exceptional circumstances, the Bible recommends supererogatory vegetarianism.
However, as moral vegetarians should be the first to point out, this recommendation is untenable. If anything, the Bible has gotten it backwards: while utopian Eden might get away with supererogatory vegetarianism, after the Fall obligatory vegetarianism is preferable. God should not have permitted Noah and his sons to eat meat. That was a mistake.
The Eleventh Commandment
Imagine that God, with pity in his heart, comes to us, saying, “I understand how hard it is for you, in your fallen state, to live up to rigorous ethical standards. I wish to ease your burden. Therefore, merciful God that I am, I hereby permit you to violate the Ten Commandments. Mind you, adhering to them is still morally best. If you do, I will be pleased. But, if you murder, steal, or bear false witness against your neighbor, I will in no way punish you, and neither should your laws or customs punish you.” How should we respond to this supposed act of kindness? Should we acknowledge that the Ten Commandments are no longer obligatory but now supererogatory? Would not the consequences of doing so be intolerable? If we knew that we could get away with murder (literally!), would not more of us—a great deal more—commit murder? Likewise, would not more of us—a great deal more—steal, dishonor our parents, commit adultery, covet our neighbor’s house, and so on? Perhaps in utopian Eden, where Adam and Eve do whatever pleases God whether it is obligatory or not, God could afford to proclaim the Ten Commandments supererogatory. But, in our fallen condition, the case is otherwise. While our fallen condition might explain our wickedness, it hardly excuses it.*
CONTINUED…