Not Commandments, but the Premise of Relationship

The text commonly referred to as “the Ten Commandments” (Exod 20:1–17; Deut 5:6–21) stands as one of the most recognizable and yet most misunderstood passages in all of Scripture. For millennia it has been treated primarily as a set of moral imperatives—rules laid down by divine authority to govern human conduct. But the Hebrew text itself never calls these sayings “commandments.” Instead, it names them ʿaseret ha-devarim—“the ten words” (Exod 34:28; Deut 4:13; 10:4).

This linguistic detail does not diminish their authority; rather, it reframes how that authority operates. In Hebrew, dābār denotes not merely information but effective, authoritative speech—a word that accomplishes what it declares. The devarim are therefore not juridical statutes in the modern sense but divine speech acts: words that shape reality by being spoken. They constitute what may be called the covenantal discourse between God and Israel—speech that both reveals who God is and draws Israel into a world ordered by that relationship.

Far from functioning as a list of external rules imposed upon an otherwise neutral humanity, the Ten Words articulate the ontology of covenantal existence—a description of the kind of reality that comes into being when divine and human life are joined. To read them properly, we must therefore think of them not as the legal code of a distant ruler, but as the lore of relationship: formative wisdom that shapes the identity of a people living within God’s creative promise.

The Covenant Preamble: Divine Self-Disclosure

“I am YHWH your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” (Exod 20:2)

The Decalogue begins, not with a command, but with a declaration of identity. In form, this mirrors the preambles of ancient Near Eastern suzerainty treaties, in which a king identified himself and recalled acts of deliverance or protection granted to his vassals.¹

Yet in the biblical context this declaration is more than formal convention. It functions as what linguists call a performative utterance—speech that brings about what it declares.² When God says, “I am YHWH your God,” He is not merely stating a fact; He is constituting a relationship. In Scripture, divine speech is never merely descriptive; it is creative. Just as “Let there be light” brings light into existence, so this “I am” brings Israel into being as God’s covenantal partner.

This opening line therefore operates as promise in an ontological sense. “Ontological” here means pertaining to being itself. God’s declaration is not a contractual pledge regarding future behavior; it is a word that establishes reality. Through this utterance, a world comes into existence—a world in which YHWH and Israel belong to one another.

The First Three Words: Boundaries of Relationship

Following this self-disclosure, three of the Ten Words establish the conditions under which covenantal relationship can be sustained. Each employs the Hebrew imperfective verbal form, which describes enduring or characteristic states rather than isolated acts. These are not arbitrary prohibitions but descriptions of what life within this covenantal reality entails.

“You shall have no other gods before Me”

Literally: “There will not be to you other gods before my face.” The phrase ʿal-panay (“before my face”) denotes presence, immediacy, and relational proximity. The meaning is not abstract monotheism but exclusive allegiance: in the presence of YHWH, there is no room for rival ultimate loyalties.

This word defines the covenant as relationally exclusive. God’s “face” represents personal presence, not metaphysical abstraction. The covenant cannot coexist with divided allegiance because it is grounded in personal communion rather than philosophical principle.

“You shall not make for yourself a carved image”

The term pesel (“carved image”) derives from a verb meaning “to hew” or “to shape.” The issue is not artistic representation as such, but the attempt to domesticate the divine—to render God manageable, reproducible, or subject to human control.

The rationale—“for I, YHWH your God, am a jealous God”—uses qinʾah in its covenantal sense: not insecurity, but passionate fidelity. This word safeguards divine freedom. God cannot be reduced to an object within the world He created. The covenant is personal and relational, not mechanical or magical.

“You shall not take up the name of YHWH your God in vain”

The verb tissāʾ (“to lift, carry, or bear”) and the noun shāvʾ (“emptiness” or “falsehood”) together mean: “You shall not carry the name of YHWH emptily.” This goes beyond prohibitions against profanity. It concerns bearing God’s name—representing His character in the world.

To carry the divine name “in vain” is to invoke God’s authority while acting contrary to His nature. This word guards the integrity of representation. Covenant life involves not only belonging to God but embodying His faithfulness.

Together, the first three words establish a coherent theological structure:

• Fidelity of allegiance — no rival gods

• Purity of imagination — no objectified deity

• Integrity of representation — no misuse of the divine name

They are not restrictions upon freedom but, as Karl Barth observed, “the gracious order of freedom” itself.³

The Two Imperatives: Practices of Fidelity

Against this backdrop of divine self-disclosure and relational boundaries, two words shift into the imperative mood. These do not impose arbitrary duties but identify practices that sustain covenantal life through time and relationship.

“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy”

The Hebrew zākar means more than mental recall; it denotes bringing the past into the present through faithful action. Divine remembering always leads to renewal (Exod 2:24; Gen 8:1), and human remembering mirrors this pattern. Sabbath observance is therefore participatory—it re-enters Israel into the rhythm of divine rest, creation, and redemption.

To “keep it holy” (leqaddesho) is to set time apart for covenantal awareness. Sabbath is not a restriction on productivity but a weekly re-enactment of liberation—a return to the world shaped by God’s promise rather than human striving.

“Honor your father and your mother”

The verb kabēd (“to make heavy”) shares its root with kāvōd (“glory, weight, substance”). To honor one’s parents is to recognize the weightiness of life’s sources—the generative continuity through which life is received and sustained.

As Sabbath sanctifies time, honoring parents sanctifies social memory. Together, these two imperatives form the axes of covenantal fidelity: temporal and relational. They preserve the conditions under which divine life can be received and transmitted across generations.

The Remaining Words: Ethical Consequences

The final six statements return to the imperfective form with loʾ (“not”), expressing enduring moral conditions rather than situational case law. Grammatically and theologically, they describe what a community becomes when it abides within covenantal reality.

Thus, “You shall not murder” is not merely a prohibition but a description of life within God’s order: in a world shaped by divine fidelity, life is honored; exploitation, deceit, and violence lose their legitimacy. These words are not coercive law but ethical consequence—the natural outworking of covenantal harmony.

Israel’s Response: “We Will Do and We Will Hear”

When Israel responds in Exodus 24:7, “We will do, and we will hear,” the grammar conveys profound theological insight. The verb ʿāsâ (“to do, to make”) is the same used of God’s creative activity in Genesis 1. Israel’s obedience thus participates in divine creativity. The verb shāmaʿ (“to hear”) encompasses listening, understanding, and internalizing.

The sequence—doing before hearing—signals trust prior to comprehension. Israel commits to inhabit the covenantal reality before fully grasping its implications. This is not legal submission but existential alignment: the human echo of God’s creative “I am.”

Law, Lore, and the Meaning of Promise

At this point, the distinction between law and promise requires clarification.

Promise as Contract

In modern usage, promise often denotes a conditional agreement: “I will do X if you do Y.” Applied to the Decalogue, such logic implies that God’s faithfulness depends upon Israel’s performance—a conclusion the biblical narrative consistently resists.

Promise as Ontological Word

In Scripture, promise is performative. When God declares, “I will be your God, and you will be my people,” He is not forecasting future behavior but establishing reality. This is promise in the ontological sense: divine speech creates the world it names.

The Ten Words therefore describe the structure of a reality already brought into being by God’s word. Human failure does not annul this promise; it constitutes misalignment with it—like turning away from the sun. The light remains; only one’s orientation changes.

Law as Lore

This perspective also rescues Torah from being reduced to law in the Roman sense. The Hebrew tōrāh derives from yārāh, meaning “to guide” or “to teach.” Torah is formative instruction—wisdom that shapes a people’s way of being. In this sense, Torah is best understood as lore: lived, transmitted wisdom that teaches a community how to inhabit the world God has spoken into existence.

Jesus and Paul: The Return to Promise

This covenantal-ontological reading illuminates how Jesus and Paul engage the law. When the rich young ruler claims to have kept the commandments (Matt 19:17–20), Jesus does not dispute him; He calls him deeper—beyond compliance into participation: “Follow me.”

The Sermon on the Mount internalizes the law, revealing its true purpose: the formation of the heart. Jesus does not abolish Torah; He restores it to its original function as divine wisdom shaping the whole person.

Paul makes the same move when he contrasts “the letter that kills” with “the Spirit that gives life” (2 Cor 3:6). He is not rejecting Torah but reclaiming its covenantal intent—that God’s instruction would be written within a people whose lives express His faithfulness (cf. Rom 8:3–4).

The Structure of the Decalogue

Stage	Grammatical Form	Function	Example
Promise	Declarative	Establishes relational reality	“I am YHWH your God…”
Boundaries	Imperfective	Protects divine otherness	No other gods; no image; no empty use of the name
Fidelity	Imperative	Enacts covenantal participation	Remember the Sabbath; honor parents
Fulfillment	Imperfective	Describes covenantal flourishing	You shall not murder, steal, deceive
Response	Volitional	Human assent	“We will do and we will hear”

This functional structure—without denying traditional enumerations—reveals a movement from divine self-disclosure through relational boundaries and practices into ethical consequence and communal assent. It is a liturgical architecture of relationship, not a legal code.

Conclusion: The Ten Words as the World of the Promise

Read within their linguistic and theological horizon, the Ten Words cease to function as a list of prohibitions and emerge as a map of covenantal being. They begin with God’s self-revelation—a word that creates relationship—and unfold into the boundaries, practices, and outcomes that sustain that relationship.

Calling the Ten Words a promise does not mean God fulfills them in our place, nor that human failure nullifies divine faithfulness. It means that God’s speech itself constitutes the reality of covenant. The promise is not a contract to uphold but a world to inhabit—a moral and spiritual atmosphere we may breathe or resist, but cannot abolish.

Thus, the Ten Words are the lore of divine life: God’s living instruction for what human existence looks like when shaped by divine constancy. To live within them is to live within the world God has already spoken into being; to reject them is merely to hold one’s breath in a universe still filled with God’s sustaining air.

References

1. Mendenhall, G. E. Law and Covenant in Israel and the Ancient Near East. Pittsburgh: Biblical Colloquium, 1955.

2. Austin, J. L. How to Do Things with Words. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962.

3. Barth, Karl. Church Dogmatics II/1. Trans. T. F. Torrance. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1957.

4. Greenberg, Moshe. “The Biblical Conception of Law.” In Studies in the Bible and Jewish Thought, 25–41. Philadelphia: JPS, 1995.