Clear biblical mandates, rather than dubious examples, are to be our moral guide: “Whatever the Lord commands in general terms is to be accounted as an inflexible rule of conduct; but to rely on particular examples [of characters in the biblical narrative] is not only dangerous, but even foolish and absurd.”

“The things related in Scripture are not always proper to be imitated.” So notes Calvin midway through his commentary on the story of Isaac and Rebekah’s engagement and marriage–a story that, rather unpromisingly to modern ears, begins not with star-cross’d lovers flung forth from the fatal loins of ancient foes, but with the efforts of Abraham’s unnamed servant to contract a suitable spouse for his master’s son from his master’s place of origin. Calvin’s permission (or even exhortation) not to imitate all that even Scripture’s rosiest characters do comes as a relief in a chapter chalk full of ancient near-eastern practices and customs far removed from contemporary ritual.

Clear biblical mandates, rather than dubious examples, are to be our moral guide: “Whatever the Lord commands in general terms is to be accounted as an inflexible rule of conduct; but to rely on particular examples [of characters in the biblical narrative] is not only dangerous, but even foolish and absurd.” And yet. Calvin feels quite happy to encourage imitatio Sanctorum when the biblical Saints of old conform to biblical precepts in their actions. And, rather unnervingly, he ends up, on the basis of that principle, applauding many of the doings in Gen. 24 that we are likely to think most dubious, and discouraging the doings that we are likely to think morally indifferent if not most acceptable. The reformer, as ever, drives a hard moral bargain, and refuses to leave us in our comfort zone when it comes to our personal conduct.

For instance, Calvin raises the alarm when Abraham’s servant gifts Rebekah with a golden ring and two golden bracelets in exchange for her kindness to his camels at the well (Gen. 24.22), lest anyone think this demonstrates that “God approves ornaments of this kind, which pertain not so much to neatness as to pomp.” For “we know,” Calvin admonishes, “how highly displeasing to God is not only pomp and ambition in adorning the body, but all kind of luxury.” Abstinence from such extravagance, especially for the fairer sex who might be more prone towards “adorning the body,” is the safest path: “Because the cupidity of women is, on this point, insatiable, not only must moderation, but even abstinence, be cultivated as far as possible.” But Calvin’s words contain a moral warning for persons less interested in jewelry (i.e., me) as well. His swipe against “all kind of luxury” in addition to “pomp and ambition in adorning the body” spells trouble, presumably, for the Bimmers and Benzes in our churches’ parking lots just as much as the bling on display inside.

Calvin likewise expresses concern over the method that Abraham’s servant employs for choosing a spouse for Isaac (Gen. 24.10-12). He applauds the servant for making the decision a matter of prayer, but objects when the servant demands a peculiar sign from God spotlighting the right woman. The servant obviously “desires to be made fully certain respecting the whole affair of God” concerning the matter at hand. But since God never promises to disclose his sovereign purposes to us, we step out of line when we require or ask him to do so. “Since the servant prescribes to God what answer shall be given, he appears culpably to depart from the suitable modesty of prayer.” That God went ahead and provided the requested sign to Abraham’s servant speaks merely of God’s “extraordinary indulgence,” not the propriety of seeking such signs. Calvin seems considerably worried that the servant’s sign-seeking, as recorded in the biblical text, might encourage others to indulge in “vain prognostications.” The moral: don’t seek a sign from God to determine your path forward. Pray for wisdom, observe whatever biblical commands might bear upon your choices in life, and step forward in faith and confidence that God is sovereign even over your freely made decisions. Or, as Augustine somewhat more bluntly put it, “love God and do what you want.”

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