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Introduction: why the word matters (and how our last essay points the way)

In my earlier essay, The Pre-1900 Just War Tradition (for the workshop, the paddock, and the pulpit). A Personal Reflection, I traced the lane markers that Christian teaching has laid down across the centuries—Scripture, Augustine and Aquinas, Salamanca and the law of nations, the pastoral manuals that speak plainly to ordinary people, and the moral ballast supplied by Edwards and sharpened by modern historians of war.¹ That essay was written for people who live by their hands as much as their heads: measure twice; do only what must be done; keep faith with your word; stop the moment the danger is past. If you’d like that foundation at hand, you can open it here: The Pre-1900 Just War Tradition (for the workshop, the paddock, and the pulpit). A Personal Reflection.

This present study takes the next necessary step. Before we weigh World War I and World War II by those just-war lane markers, we must clarify the moral plumb line that runs through them all: the Sixth Commandment. Does it forbid all killing, or does it forbid murder—unlawful, malicious, wrongful taking of human life? The difference is not academic. If we blur it, we either baptise violence or condemn the lawful use of force that protects the innocent and restores peace. So we begin with the Hebrew itself, the legal architecture that surrounds the command, and the way the church’s best minds have read it. Only then will our judgments about 1914–18 and 1939–45 be anchored—not in mood or outrage—but in Scripture’s careful grammar of life, restraint, and neighbour-love.

I write as an Australian chaplain and a mechanic who has learned most of what matters beside fitters and electricians, stockmen, and the steady hands who keep small communities going. I also carry a family grief: my grandfather, Arthur Chapman, perished as a prisoner on the Sandakan death march. Over time I have learned to forgive the Japanese, not by excusing cruelty, but by recognising a wartime worldview different from my own and all that such difference entails—formation, fear, honour, duty, and the pressures of war. With that in view, we now turn to the four Hebrew syllables that must guide everything that follows: לֹא תִּרְצָח — “You shall not murder.”

Author’s vocational background: steel mill shift worker, small business owner, concrete truck driver, commercial diver, crane dogman, heavy vehicle mechanic, heavy mining equipment operator. These experiences inform the practical tone of this essay.

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The text itself: wording and form

In Exodus 20:13 and Deuteronomy 5:17 the Hebrew reads:

לֹא תִּרְצָח(lo tirtsach) — “You shall not murder.”

The Sixth Commandment in Hebrew with transliteration.

Two features matter. First, the verb is רָצַח (rātsaḥ), not the more general הָרַג (hārag, “to kill/slay”) or the judicial מִית/הֵמִית (mît/hemît, “to put to death”).²³ Second, the construction לֹא (lo, absolute negation) with the imperfect (second person masculine singular) gives a categorical, open-ended moral prohibition.⁴ The form says: “This is never to be done by you.” But the scope of the prohibition is carried by the lexeme rātsaḥ—the Bible’s word for unlawful homicide. In brief: the commandment forbids murder, not every instance of killing.

This is not a linguistic hair-splitting. Scripture uses different words because it makes different moral judgments. Israel’s law can record battlefield deaths (הָרַג), authorise capital punishment in narrowly defined cases (הֵמִית), and yet absolutely forbid murder (רָצַח). The Decalogue’s economy—four Hebrew syllables—depends on that semantic clarity.²³

A brief lexical map: rātsaḥ, hārag, and “to put to death”

1. רָצַח (rātsaḥ) — “murder, kill unlawfully.” This root names the murderer (rōtsēaḥ, Numbers 35:11) and the act (for example, Jeremiah 7:9; Hosea 4:2; Psalm 94:6). It is used in Israel’s homicide law where intent, instruments, and circumstances are judiciously weighed. The cities-of-refuge legislation (Numbers 35; Deuteronomy 19; Joshua 20) distinguishes between the intentional murderer—liable to death—and the unintentional manslayer who, though he has shed blood, must not be treated as a murderer.⁵ The same root applies to both persons because the law is sorting homicide cases into morally distinct categories. The burden of the Sixth Commandment falls here: remove malice, private vendetta, and reckless disregard for life; uphold due process and proportional redress.
2. הָרַג (hārag) — “kill, slay.” A far broader term. It can describe battlefield deaths (for example, Judges 20:35), executions (Numbers 25:5), murders (Psalm 94:6), or even killing animals (Genesis 37:31). The word itself does not pronounce a moral verdict; the context does. When biblical writers wish to condemn a killing as wrongful in itself, they reach for rātsaḥ.²³
3. מִית/הֵמִית (mît/hemît) — “to put to death.” Often the formal language of judicial execution (Deuteronomy 17:6; Leviticus 24:17). It can also be used in divine judgments narrated in history (for example, 2 Samuel 6:7). Again, the verb’s field is legal/formal, not necessarily malicious.²³

We might add useful idioms: שָׁפַךְ דָּם (“shed blood”) and נָכָה (“strike/smite”), which may cause death but often leave the moral judgment to context. The point is simple: the biblical canon has a vocabulary that lets it condemn murder without condemning every taking of life. The Sixth Commandment lives inside that moral grammar.²³

The Sixth Commandment inside Israel’s legal architecture

• Cities of refuge (Numbers 35; Deuteronomy 19; Joshua 20): These provisions make the command practicable. They assess intent (“laying in wait”), instrument (a stone “by which a man may die”), and circumstance (chance mishap versus settled hatred). The avenger of blood is restrained by law; witnesses are examined; verdicts are rendered; asylum is real. This is justice as protection of life, not vengeance as multiplication of death.⁵
• Due process and proportion (Deuteronomy 17; 19): Two or three witnesses; careful inquiry; measured penalty—these guard against miscarriages of justice that would themselves become violations of the Sixth Commandment. The law’s aim is not simply to punish the guilty, but to uphold the community’s life by restraining both the murderer and the potential overreaction.⁴
• War instructions (Deuteronomy 20; 23): Israel’s war is hedged by rules—offers of peace, exemptions for vulnerable households, respect for fruit trees, avoidance of wanton destruction. Whatever debates we have about their historical scope, the canonical placement is instructive: even in war, life is to be preserved where possible. The Sixth Commandment is not suspended by conflict; it is intensified by it.⁶
• Sanctity of life at the edges: Regulations regarding parapets on roofs (Deuteronomy 22:8), negligent oxen (Exodus 21:28–36), and truthful weights and measures (Leviticus 19:35–36) all belong to a culture of preventing needless death. The commandment forbids murder; the wider law teaches care.⁶

The arc of this legal architecture bends toward what later just war thinking will call discrimination (protecting noncombatants) and proportionality (using no more force than is necessary for justice). Those are not modern inventions; they are moral intuitions trained by biblical law.⁶

Ancient translations: how the tradition read the verb

The Septuagint (Greek Old Testament) renders the Sixth Commandment οὐ φονεύσεις—“you shall not murder,” using φονεύω rather than the broader ἀποκτείνω (“kill”). The New Testament cites the command this way (Matthew 5:21; Romans 13:9; James 2:11), preserving the narrower, morally weighted sense.⁷ The Latin Vulgate famously reads non occides (“you shall not kill”), a rendering that passed into the King James Bible and popular memory. In English, “kill” can be read as absolute, fueling pacifist or quietist readings; but the Greek and the legal context push us back to “murder.” Most modern translations accordingly print “You shall not murder.”⁸

This reception history matters pastorally. Soldiers, police, and magistrates have sometimes been told—on the basis of “kill”—that any lethal force is prohibited. Yet Scripture itself allows judicial execution (under strict due process) and regards some warfare as legitimate under divine command or just authority. The Sixth Commandment does not erase those texts; it interprets them by setting the strongest possible constraint around the taking of life: it must never be murder.

Theological reception: from Augustine to the pastoral manuals

The Christian tradition’s best expositors read the text with the canon. Augustine distinguishes private vengeance from public office; the same act—killing—can be murder in one case and lawful in another, depending upon authority, cause, and intention.⁹ Aquinas follows suit, treating homicide under the virtue of justice (Summa Theologiae II–II, Question 64) and war under charity and justice (II–II, Question 40). In both cases he guards two truths at once: every human being bears God’s image; and the common good sometimes requires coercive restraint of grave wrongdoers. The Sixth Commandment anchors the first truth; just authority and due process qualify the second.¹⁰

Closer to the modern era, pastoral writers bring the doctrine to the level of common speech. William Paley insists that wars for glory or commerce are unjust; public faith and the welfare of the people must govern lethal action.¹¹ Francis Wayland teaches students to check both jus ad bellum (why we fight) and jus in bello (how we fight) in plain terms: defence only, last resort, intention of peace, noncombatant immunity, proportional means, humane treatment of prisoners.¹² These are not decorations around the Sixth Commandment; they are what the commandment looks like when it walks into the world.

A word, too, from Jonathan Edwards. His ethic turns on benevolence to being in general—ordered love for God and neighbour. Murder is the precise opposite: it is the will’s revolt against the good of another; it is disordered love weaponised. Even when public office requires coercion, the motive must be benevolent—to protect the innocent and restore peace—not vengeful or vainglorious. In Edwards’ terms, right intention is simply charity governing power.¹³

A spiritual journey that steadies judgment

My conclusions about war have not come quickly. They have been handed to me by Scripture in the slow company of prayer, lament, and repentance. The Psalms tutored me to name enemy and evil without hatred; the prophets taught me to link justice with care for the vulnerable; the Gospels pressed me to forgive, even while telling the truth about wrong. My grandfather’s death at Sandakan has been a long school in lament. Forgiveness did not come cheaply. It came as I recognised the depth of my own need for mercy and the complex forces that shape a wartime worldview—fear, honour, duty, propaganda, survival. That spiritual labour has taught me to weigh policies and tactics with patience, to refuse the intoxication of vengeance, and to keep asking whether our use of force serves neighbour-love.

Along the way, the church’s theologians have acted as companions: Augustine warning me against private vengeance, Aquinas training my attention on justice and charity, Jonathan Edwards insisting that right intention is the government of power by love. In pastoral work, I have learned the disciplines of confession, reconciliation, and the careful rebuild of trust. Those are not separate from just-war thinking; they are the inner posture that keeps restraint human in the field.

How the command disciplines our questions about war

If the Sixth Commandment forbids murder, not every instance of killing, then our questions about war become sharper rather than softer.

Jus ad bellum (why to fight)

• Legitimate authority: If private vengeance is murder, then only rightly constituted public authority may use force. This protects against the slide from justice into feud.⁹¹⁰
• Just cause: To halt aggression or protect the innocent is not murder; to seize advantage, glory, or territory is.¹¹
• Right intention: If the will is bent by hatred, rage, or pride, the same bullet becomes murder. Causation is not only physical; it is moral.¹³
• Last resort: The law’s carefulness with life makes delay, patience, and diplomatic effort a moral necessity.¹²
• Proportionality and probability of success: If the expected harms outrun the achievable just goods, the project veers back toward the territory of murder—a reckless exposure of life.¹²

Jus in bello (how to fight)

• Discrimination: The murderer targets the innocent; the just warrior must not. The Sixth Commandment binds the trigger finger to the discipline of distinguishing combatants from noncombatants.¹²
• Proportionality of means: Even when force is justified, excess is a kind of betrayal. The biblical instinct about instruments (Numbers 35) and the Deuteronomic restraints on destruction sharpen this point.⁵⁶
• Good faith and humane treatment: To keep promises, to feed prisoners, to protect the wounded—these are not niceties; they are the Sixth Commandment honoured in the fog of war.¹¹¹²

Jus post bellum (after fighting)

• Measured settlement, just accountability, restoration of order: Failure here need not be murder, but it risks perpetuating injustices that invite new acts of murder. The commandment presses for peace that preserves life.

Addressing common objections

“But Jesus forbids resistance” (Matthew 5:38–48). Jesus intensifies the commandment by driving it into the heart. He forbids hatred, contempt, and personal vengeance. Yet the New Testament keeps the Sixth Commandment’s alignment with public office: governing authorities are “God’s servant” to restrain evil (Romans 13). Christian ethics must therefore hold together enemy-love and neighbour-protection. Love can require nonresistance in personal relations and coercive restraint in public office—always with a view to the neighbour’s good.⁷

“Isn’t any killing a violation of the image of God?” Every human life bears God’s image; that is why murder is so grave. Precisely because the image is precious, those who unjustly attack it may be restrained by force when necessary to protect others. The commandment’s aim is not to render the community helpless before violators, but to protect life by outlawing murder and regulating every lesser step that might slide toward it.¹⁰

“Doesn’t the Vulgate say ‘kill’?” It does, and that wording shaped Western memory. But the Greek Old Testament, the New Testament, and the Hebrew context point firmly to murder. Translation is not neutral; pastoral counsel should follow the original’s moral precision.⁷⁸

A note from the workshop and the paddock

On a job site, we teach apprentices to handle power with care: isolate the circuit; look for bystanders; use the least force that will do the job; document what you have done; and knock off the moment it is safe. The Sixth Commandment is the site rule for life. It forbids murder absolutely, and then—through the rest of Scripture—teaches us how to handle the terrible power to kill. In public life that becomes just war discipline. In private life it becomes patience, truthfulness, and the refusal to hate. Both are needed.

Preparing to read WWI and WWII

Carrying this understanding into twentieth-century history, we will ask sober questions:

• Ad bellum: Were the Allied entries into WWI and WWII acts to defend the innocent and restrain grave injustice? Were last resorts truly exhausted? What were the intentions declared, and did they remain steady? What of Australia’s particular responsibilities in the Pacific?
• In bello: Did the conduct of war respect noncombatant immunity and proportionality—especially in naval blockade, submarine warfare, strategic bombing, and the use of atomic weapons? How were prisoners treated—on the Burma–Thailand Railway, at Sandakan, in European camps? Where the Sixth Commandment’s restraints were broken, what language should Christians use? (I am convinced we must sometimes say plainly, “This was evil,” even when committed by those we otherwise honour.)
• Post bellum: Did Versailles after WWI honour justice and protect life, or did it plant seeds for more bloodshed? After WWII, did the trials, occupations, and reconstructions of Germany and Japan bend toward life-preserving peace? Where mercy and justice were held together, was the Sixth Commandment’s spirit served?

Pastoral posture and personal memory

My grandfather’s death at Sandakan puts weight on this study. It keeps me from theorising about other people’s pain. Yet it also keeps me under the gospel: I have learned to forgive, not by forgetting, but by naming evil and then entrusting judgment to God. Decades of marriage since 1973 have quietly steadied my counsel, but the deeper current has been a spiritual journey of prayer, Scripture, confession, and patient repair of trust. The commandment’s aim is not to arm us for moral superiority but to school us in reverence for life—including the lives of enemies—while recognising that, in a fallen world, protection sometimes requires force.

Conclusion: a disciplined conscience

“You shall not murder.” Four Hebrew syllables, the weight of a mountain. This commandment stands against private vengeance, blood lust, and the casual cheapening of life. It stands with due process, measured judgment, mercy toward the vulnerable, and the stewardship of power. Read with the whole canon, it does not make every killing murder, but it makes every taking of life morally serious and strictly bounded by justice and love.

As we turn toward the fires of the twentieth century, this will be our rule: no targeting of the innocent, no excess beyond necessity, no war without just cause and right intention, no peace that leaves the seed of murder unplucked. Augustine and Aquinas will help us hold authority, cause, and intention together. Paley and Wayland will keep our checklists plain. Jonathan Edwards will keep our hearts under the governance of charity. And my own small Australian story—shed, paddock, and pulpit—will keep the theology honest.

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Endnotes

Bibliography (Extra-Biblical Sources)

• Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologiae, II–II, Questions 40 and 64. Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. Notre Dame, IN: Christian Classics, 1981.
• Augustine. City of God. Trans. R. W. Dyson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998.
• ———. Contra Faustum. In Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Series 1, Vol. 4. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1994.
• BDAG (Danker, Frederick W., ed.). A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3rd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000.
• Block, Daniel I. Deuteronomy. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012.
• BDB (Brown, Francis; Driver, S. R.; Briggs, Charles A.). A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament. Oxford: Clarendon, 1907.
• Craigie, Peter C. The Book of Deuteronomy. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976.
• Edwards, Jonathan. Charity and Its Fruits. Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1969.
• ———. The Nature of True Virtue. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1960.
• HALOT (Koehler, Ludwig; Baumgartner, Walter; Stamm, Johann Jakob). The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Leiden: Brill, 1994–2000.
• Joüon, Paul; Muraoka, T. A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew. Rev. ed. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 2006.
• McConville, J. Gordon. Deuteronomy. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2002.
• Metzger, Bruce M. The Bible in Translation: Ancient and English Versions. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2001.
• Milgrom, Jacob. Numbers. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1990.
• NETS (Pietersma, Albert; Wright, Benjamin G., eds.). A New English Translation of the Septuagint. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007.
• NIDOTTE (VanGemeren, Willem A., ed.). New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997.
• Paley, William. The Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy. Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 2002 (orig. 1785).
• Rahlfs-Hanhart, Alfred, ed. Septuaginta. 2nd ed. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2006.
• Tigay, Jeffrey H. Deuteronomy. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1996.
• Waltke, Bruce K.; O’Connor, M. An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990.
• Wayland, Francis. The Elements of Moral Science. Rev. ed. Boston: Gould and Lincoln, 1860.
• Wenham, Gordon J. Numbers. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1981.
• Weber, Robert; Gryson, Roger, eds. Biblia Sacra Vulgata. 5th ed. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2007.