This posting is a transcript of the concluding ten minutes of a sixty-minute lecture I gave as part of Furman University's series "What Really Matters." The series was established in 1982 to honor the life and work of L. D. Johnson, who served as chaplain at Furman 1967–1981.
In earlier portions of the lecture I endorsed a Christian ethics of virtue and responded to six common objections to that tradition. In conclusion I offered a selected listing of biblical virtues. Several friends have urged me to publish the final portion of the lecture, as my oral presentation had gone by too quickly. That final portion, lightly revised, I have posted here. The entire lecture is available in audio at What Really Matters .
New Testament listings of virtues can be found at Matthew 5.1–11; Luke 6.20–38; Acts 24.24–25; Romans 5.3–5; Romans 12.9–21; 1 Corinthians 13.1–13; 2 Corinthians 6.6–7; Galatians 5.22–23; Ephesians 4.32; Colossians 3.12–17; 1 Timothy 6.11; James 3.17–18; 2 Peter 1.5–7.
New Testament listings of vices can be found at Matthew 15.18–20; Mark 7.20–23; Romans 1.28–31; 1 Corinthians 6.9–10; 2 Corinthians 12.20–21; Galatians 5.19–21; 2 Timothy 3.2–6.
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...[In conclusion,] I continue to embrace my Christian tradition in part because I find salvation by grace through trust—which I understand as trusting Christ's way of repentance, forgiveness, and amendment of life—a healing doctrine.
The virtues enter this healing process at two points: at the beginning, when honestly comparing our lives to these transcendent ideals leads us to repentance; and at the end, when these ideals guide us in our attempting to amend our lives. These roles of the virtues explain why Paul, the great preacher of salvation by grace, gives us list after list of virtues that should guide the faithful—and also some graphic lists of vices to avoid.
Paul originates a basic triad of Christian virtues: faith, hope, and love (1 Corinthians 13.13). But these are only three of the many virtues that Paul lists. In the Middle Ages the church was to formulate listings of seven cardinal virtues, but again Paul's listings far exceed seven.
A few summers ago, to celebrate our wedding anniversary, Marian and I took off on a lark to satisfy our shared interest in amateur star-gazing. Knowing that we would have to escape the humid haze of our eastern summers, we took down the Almanac and looked up the driest place in the country for the first week in August. It was Death Valley. (No, no: not the Clemson football stadium. That original Death Valley, way out west.) So we picked the second driest place in the country, Boise, Idaho.
Sure enough, we had one good and two wonderful nights to view the stars, though the smoke of range and forest fires kept us on the move. Marian worked at the constellations on the macro level, and I wrestled with our son Christopher's sixteen-power telescope to search the firmament at the micro level.
In one of those moments that give me goosebumps even in recollection, we focused our scope on the constellation of the Seven Sisters or the Pleiades—in Greek mythology, seven sisters, daughters of Atlas, turned into a group of stars. In biblical scripture the Pleiades are singled out by the book of Job (9.9; 38.31) and by the prophet Amos (5.8) as a particular splendor of God's creation. Among and around the seven points of light visible to the naked eye, our little scope disclosed a dazzling cluster of sister stars, all born of the same molecular cloud and mutually bound by gravity.
So it is with the virtues. Through the lens of New Testament writings we find a host of sister virtues to guide the faithful—repentant, thankful for their forgiveness, and resolved to amend their lives. Are these exclusively Christian virtues? Heavens no—no more than the stars are Christian stars. They are a host of transcendent virtues, resplendent above us all, brought nearer by the lens of Judeo-Christian scripture, as also by lenses of other traditions.
I would like to conclude with a partial survey of this cluster of sister virtues—qualities of character that make us good, qualities that really matter. In alphabetical order:
Compassion really matters, virtually defined for Christian tradition by the Samaritan's care for a stripped traveler, beaten and left for dead on the road to Jericho. (Luke 10.25–37)
Fidelity really matters, such as the Apostle Peter taught by failing at it so miserably in the high priest's courtyard (Matthew 26.69–75; Mark 14.66–72; Luke 22.54–62) and the three Marys exemplified so courageously by being last at the cross and first at the tomb. (Matthew 27.55–61; 28.1–10; Mark 15.40–41, 47; Luke 23.48–49; 24.1–12)
Forbearance really matters, such as Christ repeatedly showed toward his non-comprehending disciples who, despite their "little faith" (Matthew 6.30; 8.26; 14.31; 16.8; Luke 12.28), had in truth left their homes and followed him. (Matthew 19.24–29; Mark 10.23–30; Luke 18.25–30)
Forgiveness really matters, as we learn when Peter asks "How often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" and Jesus responds with hyperbole: "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven times." (Mt 18.21–22; Luke 17.3–4)
Fortitude really matters, like that of the intrepid Abigail as she rode her donkey into the profanity of King David's anger to soften his implacable will and domesticate his savage heart. (1 Samuel 25.18–35)
Gentleness really matters, like the gentleness mitigating the imagery of post-exilic prophets when they compare chastened Israel to an untrained calf or a wayward son or daughter (Jeremiah 31.16–20), whereas before the sufferings of the Exile the prophets had upbraided the Israelites for being greedy "cows" and "lusty stallions" neighing after neighbors' wives. (Jeremiah 5.7–8; Amos 4.1)
Graciousness really matters, like the graciousness transforming the tense meeting between Peter the Jew and Cornelius the Gentile, thus accounting for my standing before you this evening as a Gentile grafted into the salvation-history of Judaism. (Acts 10.17–38)
Harmony really matters, echoing the spiritual harmony among the disciples at Pentecost so strong as to overcome the discord of nationalities that has disrupted human solidarity since the tower of Babel. (Acts 2.1–21)
Honorableness really matters, like that of Joseph of Arimathea, who withheld his consent from dishonorable proceedings of the legal body of which he was a member, and asked Pilate for the body of Christ to give it an honorable burial. (Luke 23.50–56)
Kindness really matters, such as the naive islanders of Malta showed in kindling a fire for the shipwrecked Paul and his shivering companions and welcoming them with hospitality. (Acts 28.1–7)
Liberality really matters, like that of Job, who supported widows and orphans and street people, not withholding "anything that the poor desired." (Job 31.16–23; cf. Deuteronomy 15.10–11)
Meekness really matters, as when royal David's descendant insists on welcoming little children, "even infants," to his arms and his blessing. (Matthew 19.13–15; Mark 10.13–16; Luke 18.15–17)
Mercy really matters, as when, in the only capital case to come before him, Christ voids the sentence of a woman caught in adultery. (John 8.1–11)
Patience really matters, like that of the sower of kingdom seeds who awaits their sprouting and growing—"he knows not how"—into the blade and then the ear and then the full grain in the ear. (Mark 4.26–29)
Peacemaking really matters, as Christ directly declares: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." (Matthew 5.9)
Purity really matters, like the Canaanite woman's purity of heart that willed one thing despite two abrasive dismissals by Christ, finally to win his wonder for her great faith. (Matthew 15.21–28)
Reverence really matters, such as Christ taught his disciples—"Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name" (Matthew 6.9; Luke 11.2)—and prayed amidst his own anguish, "not my will but yours be done." (Matthew 26.39; Mark 14.38; Luke 22.42)
Self-examination really matters, lest we presume to remove a speck from our neighbor's eye when we have a log in our own. (Matthew 7.1–5; Luke 6.41–42)
Sympathy really matters, like that dazzling shaft of sympathy that flashes across the narrative of Deborah's gloating victory-song to illumine the camp of the enemy, where we see the mother of Sisera awaiting, in desperate self-deception, the return of her murdered warrior son. (Judges 5.26–30)
Tenderheartedness really matters, such as Mary and Martha witnessed in Christ as he wept on his way to view the body of Lazarus, their brother and his friend. (John 11.32–35)
Thankfulness really matters, like that of the one leper of ten, and he a Samaritan, who alone returned to thank Christ for his healing. (Luke 17.11–16.)
Truthfulness really matters, as Ananias and Sapphira learned too late to save them from the falsehood that poisoned their hearts. (Acts 4.32–5.11)
Wisdom really matters—she who heartens us with a promise that we hardly dare to trust: "I love those who love me, and those who seek me diligently find me." (Proverbs 8.17)
Having reached the end of the alphabet, let us give the concluding words to the Apostle Paul:
And now, my friends, all that is true, all that is honorable, all that is just, all that is pure, all that is lovely, all that is gracious—if there is any virtue, if there is anything worthy of praise, fill your thoughts with these things. And the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4.8–9)
