Every major religious tradition faces a deeply uncomfortable question: How do we reconcile belief in a perfectly good God with scriptures that depict divine commands for violence, warfare, and even genocide?
The Hebrew Bible contains passages where God commands the Israelites to destroy entire cities, leaving no survivors. Similar tensions appear across religious texts worldwide. These aren't obscure verses—they're central narratives that believers have wrestled with for millennia.
This isn't merely a historical curiosity. The question strikes at the heart of religious ethics: What makes actions morally right or wrong? If God's goodness serves as the foundation for morality, how do we understand commands that seem to violate our deepest moral intuitions? The answer requires careful philosophical analysis of the relationship between divine commands, moral truth, and scriptural interpretation.
The Euthyphro Dilemma
In Plato's dialogue Euthyphro, Socrates poses a question that has haunted theological ethics for two thousand years: Is something good because God commands it, or does God command it because it's good?
If we take the first option—things are good simply because God commands them—we face a troubling consequence. Morality becomes arbitrary. God could have commanded cruelty, and cruelty would then be good. This is called voluntarism, and it makes divine goodness meaningless. Saying "God is good" just means "God does what God does."
But the second option seems equally problematic for traditional theism. If God commands things because they're independently good, then moral standards exist apart from God. This appears to limit divine sovereignty and suggests God isn't truly the ultimate source of all reality.
The dilemma forces us to ask whether divine command ethics can escape this apparent trap. Can we maintain both that God is the source of moral truth and that morality isn't arbitrary? The answer requires a more sophisticated understanding of the relationship between God's nature and God's commands.
TakeawayThe Euthyphro dilemma reveals that simply appealing to divine authority doesn't settle moral questions—it raises deeper ones about the foundations of morality itself.
Divine Command Theory Refined
Contemporary philosophers of religion have developed sophisticated responses to the Euthyphro dilemma. The most influential approach grounds morality not in God's commands but in God's nature.
On this view, God doesn't arbitrarily decide what's good. Rather, God's essential character—loving, just, truthful, merciful—constitutes the standard of goodness. Divine commands flow from this nature. God commands honesty because God is truth. God commands love because God is love. The commands aren't arbitrary precisely because they reflect an unchangeable divine essence.
This "modified divine command theory," associated with philosophers like Robert Adams and William Alston, navigates between the horns of the dilemma. Morality isn't independent of God—it's grounded in God's nature. But it's not arbitrary either—God couldn't command cruelty because doing so would contradict the divine essence.
This framework provides theological resources for addressing violent commands. If God's nature is essentially good, then any genuine divine command must somehow be consistent with that goodness—even if we struggle to see how. The question becomes whether certain commands actually reflect God's nature or whether our understanding of those commands requires revision.
TakeawayGrounding morality in God's nature rather than mere commands preserves both divine authority and moral objectivity—but it raises the stakes for interpreting commands that seem inconsistent with that nature.
Interpreting Violent Commands
Given a modified divine command framework, believers have several philosophical and hermeneutical options for addressing apparently immoral commands in scripture.
The accommodation view suggests God works within human limitations. Ancient Near Eastern warfare was brutal, and God may have permitted (rather than ideally commanded) practices that fell short of perfect morality—much as Jesus suggested Mosaic divorce laws "accommodated" human hardness of heart.
The progressive revelation view holds that divine self-disclosure unfolds gradually through history. Earlier commands reflected partial understanding; later revelation (culminating, for Christians, in Christ's teaching of enemy-love) clarifies God's ultimate will.
The hyperbolic interpretation notes that ancient war rhetoric regularly employed exaggerated language. Commands to "destroy everything" may be conventional military speech, not literal prescriptions—archaeological evidence suggests Israel's actual practices were far less total than the texts suggest.
Each approach has strengths and weaknesses. Accommodation risks making God complicit in evil. Progressive revelation must explain why God ever permitted what was always wrong. Hyperbolic readings may seem like convenient escape hatches. Yet all three share a crucial assumption: difficult texts must be interpreted in light of God's essential goodness, not used to redefine that goodness.
TakeawayWhen scripture seems to conflict with divine goodness, the philosophical theologian must decide whether the text, the interpretation, or the conception of goodness requires revision—and defending each choice carries significant implications.
The question of whether a perfectly good God can command warfare has no easy answer. But the philosophical analysis clarifies what's at stake and what options are available.
Divine command theory, properly understood, doesn't make morality arbitrary—it grounds moral obligations in the unchanging divine nature. This framework then requires that we interpret scriptural commands in ways consistent with that nature, using the best tools of historical, literary, and theological analysis.
What remains is a choice: either some forms of commanded violence are compatible with perfect goodness in ways we don't fully grasp, or our interpretation of these texts requires revision. Both paths demand intellectual honesty about what we're claiming and why.