We Have Got to Talk About Usury (Part XX): Where We Go From Here
George Frederic Watts (English, 1817–1904), Mammon (1884–5), London: Tate Modern.
The following is the twentieth and final post in a series on usury by the Rev. Vincent Shemwell. Rev. Shemwell serves as pastor of Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Johnson City, Tennessee. He graduated from Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne with the M.Div. in 2022, and received his STM from CTSFW in 2024, writing his thesis on Johann Georg Hamann. The previous installments can be found below:
Part I: Introduction
Part II: The Old Testament
Part III: The New Testament
Part IV: The Church Fathers—Clement of Alexandria through Hilary of Poitiers
Part V: The Church Fathers — The Cappadocians
Part VI: The Church Fathers — Church Councils and Ambrose
Part VII: The Church Fathers—Chrysostom through Leo the Great
Part VIII: Medieval Theologians
Part IX: The Medieval Church Continued—Councils, Canon Law, Dante, and Other Matters
Part X: Luther—His First Foray, in Translation
Part XI: The Strauss Affair and Luther’s Long Sermon
Part XII: Luther on Why Pastors Must Preach against Usury
Part XIII: Miscellaneous Mentions by Luther and a Few Misconceptions
Part XIV: After Luther—Spangenberg, Melanchthon, Brenz, Aepinus, Chemnitz, and Selnecker
Part XV: Rhegius, Hunnius, Gerhard, and the Setting of a Bright Sun
Part XVI: The Regensburg Dispute of 1587
Part XVII: C.F.W. Walther and the Nineteenth Century Struggle Against Usury—1838 to 1868
Part XVIII: C.F.W. Walther and the Nineteenth Century Struggle Against Usury—The General Convention of 1869
Part XIX: Lending at Interest and the Missouri Synod—1870 to the End of the Discussion
We have now reached the conclusion of a long and sustained inquiry; nine months of research and many tens of thousands of words devoted to a single controversial question. Over the course of our series, we have traced the history of the church’s teaching on this topic and have seen that, for the greater part of that history, her judgment regarding usury was neither tentative nor obscure, but clear and consistent.
So the questions that remain are altogether practical: What are we to do with these findings? How should they be applied? And what conclusions follow for contemporary economic life?
Well, I am happy to offer a few thoughts and suggestions here, yet I must also acknowledge an obvious limitation: I am hardly an economist. And from the outset, my purpose has been much more modest: to reopen and clarify a conversation that, for whatever reason, was intentionally stifled in the previous century.
We do need economists, though—Christian ones, in fact. Actually, in Mere Christianity, on the subject of “Social Morality,” C.S. Lewis makes this very case. He writes (III.3): “Now another point. There is one bit of advice given to us by the ancient heathen Greeks, and by the Jews in the Old Testament, and by the great Christian teachers of the Middle Ages, which the modern economic system has completely disobeyed. All these people told us not to lend money at interest: and lending money at interest—what we call investment—is the basis of our whole system. Now it may not absolutely follow that we are wrong. Some people say that when Moses and Aristotle and the Christians agreed in forbidding interest (or ‘usury’ as they called it), they could not foresee the joint stock company, and were only thinking of the private moneylender, and that, therefore, we need not bother about what they said. That is a question I cannot decide on. I am not an economist and I simply do not know whether the investment system is responsible for the state we are in or not. This is where we want the Christian economist. But I should not have been honest if I had not told you that three great civilizations had agreed in condemning the very thing on which we have based our whole life.”
I share Lewis’ reservation. I am not equipped to judge the complexities of modern economic structures. However, it seems evident that we do very much stand in need of economists who are not only technically competent but also deeply formed by Scripture and attentive to the church’s historic teaching. Only such voices will be able to assess responsibly what God’s Word and the inherited tradition have to say about present realities.
But with that necessary caveat stated, allow me to offer some humble suggestions. The first will be quite general in scope, after which I will propose several more specific considerations.
If one were to summarize the prevailing view of the church throughout her history on the matter of lending, it could scarcely be expressed more succinctly than in the words of King Solomon in Proverbs 19:17, a passage we have encountered numerous times throughout this study: “He who has pity on the poor lends to the Lord, and He will repay what he has given.”
If you, dear reader, have followed this series with care, you will know that the church across the centuries has understood lending as necessarily gratuitous, precisely because lending is intended by God to be an act of charity and mercy, a form of good works. God distributes material goods among men in differing measure. Yet He does so not in order that such possessions might serve as private trophies of success, but rather that they might provide opportunities for charity. Even the right to private property, which is undoubtedly affirmed in Scripture, exists ultimately for the sake of our sanctification, not our earthly security.
Within Roman Catholic theology this doctrine is often referred to as the “universal destination of goods.” Yet the teaching is by no means uniquely Roman Catholic. The church fathers articulated the same doctrine, and it was likewise affirmed by the reformers, including Luther and Chemnitz. Chemnitz, for instance, writes (Loci theologici II [1653], 165): “Anyone who prefers to profit from lending … sins against the doctrine of the sharing of goods, in which God wills that charity be exercised, so that no one alone should enjoy the benefits of creation to another’s detriment.”
Lending, therefore, is meant to serve the work of sanctification, the storing up of heavenly treasure, and the righteous distribution of God’s blessings in this life, not the pursuit of personal enrichment. But fallen humanity finds it exceedingly difficult to think in these terms. Our sinful nature inclines us to regard the goods of creation as possessions to be hoarded rather than gifts to be stewarded, even though our Lord explicitly reminds us in this context that “one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses” (Luke 12:15). In other words, we cannot begin to approach lending rightly, in a Christian manner, until we first confront the deeper problem of our own idolatry, until we learn to loosen our grip on the worship of mammon. (Which, as you might recall, Walther highlights as a distinctly American form of idolatry.)
Seen in this light, it becomes clearer why theologians throughout the centuries have repeatedly appealed to passages such as Psalm 15 and Ezekiel 18 in their condemnation of lending at interest. In these texts usury is directly associated with idolatry, that is, with a violation of the first commandment. For that is where the matter really begins. The root of usury, as with all evil, is the love of money, what we might properly call mammonism.
The crucial question therefore arises: How are we to confront this mammonism and gain mastery over the disordered love of wealth that so easily captivates the human heart?
As a Lutheran pastor, I can offer only the most characteristically Lutheran answer: through the Word of God. Only the Holy Spirit, working through the Word, can truly convict us of our sin and correct our lives. If we are to resist the idolatry of mammon, we must first hear the Word and know it well.
Yet just hearing and knowing the Word is not sufficient. We must also take it seriously, and frankly, more literally than we have in a long time. Our Lord commands us to lend expecting nothing in return (Luke 6:35). He gives this command in the context of the Sermon on the Plain, where our Lord speaks more plainly than nearly anywhere else in the Gospels. In this sermon, our Lord gives us straightforward commands, and yet how often we ignore them or attempt to soften their force.
Perhaps we should consider the possibility that our Lord intends His words to be taken at face value, just as we take other portions of Scripture. Perhaps He truly does mean that we should turn the other cheek, at least in personal conflict. Perhaps, as Luther himself maintained, Christ means that we, His disciples, should be willing to endure robbery or fraud. And perhaps He also means that lending is fundamentally for the benefit of the needy borrower rather than for the enrichment of the lender.
And if we are to combat our mammonism and greed, we must acknowledge that the love of money is among those sins most frequently and sharply addressed in Scripture. Christ describes such devotion to wealth as an abomination before God (Luke 16:14–15). And that fact alone ought to strike fear into the sinful heart.
Speaking of that abomination which is the love of money, we might likewise do well to take St. Paul with equal seriousness. He writes in 1 Timothy 6:6–10: “Now godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and clothing, with these we shall be content. But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and harmful lusts which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.”
Paul encourages Christians to be content with food and clothing, with the basic necessities of life. Such contentment is not mere resignation but a faithful acceptance of God’s governance over our lives. And this, the apostle insists, is true gain, both in this life and in the life to come.
Maybe Paul really means for us to heed this advice. Maybe it is even better to be poor in this life than rich in sin. The rest of Scripture surely suggests as much.
Proverbs 15:16: “Better is a little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure with trouble.”
Proverbs 16:8: “Better is a little with righteousness than vast revenues without justice.”
Proverbs 28:6: “Better is the poor who walks in his integrity than one perverse in his ways, though he be rich.”
Psalm 37:16: “A little that a righteous man has is better than the riches of many wicked.”
Matthew 16:26: “For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?”
Luke 12:21: “He who lays up treasure for himself is not rich toward God.”
To be sure, Christians are called to provide for those entrusted to their care. Indeed, the same Paul writes that anyone who fails in this duty “has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever” (1 Timothy 5:8). However, this, too, raises an important question: What exactly does it mean to provide? Are we just providing, or are we seeking to possess? Are we just exercising faithful stewardship, or are we securing comforts for ourselves under the guise of necessity and responsibility?
So perhaps we really should consider the possibility that it may be better to live in relative poverty than to live in bondage to mammon. I realize that suggestion flies in the face of so much of our modern thinking. But I remind you that the father of the Missouri Synod once described the “American spirit” as an insatiable appetite for more, which always supplants the love of God, and, as Paul warns, leads men into destruction and perdition.
What I know for certain is that the church fathers, especially the Cappadocians, were very clear that it is far better to be poor with the Lord than rich with the world. And it may be that, in our own time, we faithful have grown altogether too rich with the world.
Many centuries ago, Chemnitz observed that “avarice is ingenious in finding pretexts” (Loci theologici II, 162). I only pray that we may begin to take that caution to heart.
But let us now turn to some more concrete considerations. The first concerns the position of the borrower within a usurious system. Attentive readers of this series will recall that Aquinas, Luther, and Chemnitz all maintained that it is not necessarily a sin to take out a loan at interest. When Jacob Strauss began teaching that borrowers should refuse their interest payments, Luther admonished him (see Part XI). If we contract a loan at interest, the obligation to repay, including the interest, remains. In such cases we may well be suffering an unjust arrangement, yet the duty persists, since we have given our word
At the same time, however, Aquinas, Luther, and Chemnitz further argued that this principle applies only when the loan is undertaken for a genuine necessity. When borrowing is motivated not by need but by desire, the borrower then becomes a participant in the sin of usury. For that reason, a prudent rule of thumb would be that Christians should avoid carrying interest-bearing debt or relying on credit for the sake of nonessential purchases. What counts as essential in one’s life is a judgment that must be made for oneself, with honesty of conscience, ever mindful that God knows the heart even when the mind is capable of rationalizing what can never be justified in His sight.
And even in matters that are truly necessary, practical steps may still mitigate the spiritual harm inherent in the situation. Consider the purchase of a home, for example, something we all need. Few are able to afford a home without a mortgage. Yet prudence may guide us to purchase a smaller home than the bank is willing to finance, to select the shortest loan term we can responsibly sustain, and to make additional payments toward the principal whenever possible. But again, these measures will only seem manageable for us once we begin the much more difficult work of actively divorcing ourselves from the love of money.
Next, we need to consider several distinctions that are frequently invoked in modern discussions of usury, which, in my judgment, lack a clear biblical foundation. In particular, I have in mind the distinction between private and commercial lending, and the distinction between full recourse and non-recourse loans.
If lending at interest for profit is sinful when it occurs between two private individuals, then this principle cannot be altered merely by changing the setting to something more institutional. Scripture nowhere distinguishes between private and commercial lending when it condemns interest.
And dear reader, you will recall that, sadly, some of our own scholastic thinkers sought to introduce a distinction between persons in lending, which eventually paved the way for the gradual normalization of usury in Christian society. Yet as Chemnitz rightly noted in his own day, when such arguments were first advanced, no such distinction can be found in Scripture. And when we consider the severe judgment pronounced upon the usurer in Psalm 15 and Ezekiel 18, it is impossible to rest secure upon a distinction that lacks an explicit biblical warrant.
The same principle applies here. If one Christian is not allowed to lend to his neighbor at interest for profit, then neither can a group of Christians, even if they call themselves a bank, a credit union, or whatever else. When our Lord commanded His disciples to lend as an act of charity, expecting nothing in return, He offered no exceptions and made no allowances for a separate commercial sphere.
What, then, of the distinction between full recourse and non-recourse loans? Sometimes Roman Catholic thinkers appeal to this distinction, arguing that interest on a full recourse loan (or a so-called mutuum loan) is inherently sinful, whereas interest on a non-recourse loan may not necessarily be so.
In short, a full recourse loan is one in which the lender may claim not only the property purchased with the borrowed funds, which secures the loan, but also the borrower’s other assets should default occur. A non-recourse loan, on the other hand, limits the lender’s claim to the specific property securing the loan; for example, when a bank forecloses on a house yet has no further claim on the borrower’s remaining assets or income. The reasoning offered in support of this distinction is admittedly complex, but put simply, the argument is wholly predicated on a particular and rather limited framework that some Roman Catholic theologians employ when arguing against interest.
The distinction itself derives from medieval scholastic debate and is grounded in Aristotelian thought. Aquinas argues that usury consists in charging for the use of money; and because the use of money is identical with its consumption, such a charge amounts to selling the same thing twice, or, in effect, selling what does not truly exist. This, he concludes, is unjust (see his Summa Theologiae II–II, q. 78, a. 1, co.; see also Part VIII of our series).
Now in a non-recourse loan, the lender’s claim is tied solely to a particular property. The lender’s recovery is therefore limited to that property, which, depending on the circumstances, may or may not prove profitable. In this arrangement, the lender bears some measure of risk associated with the property, since in the event of default the property may prove to be lost, destroyed, or diminished in value, without the lender having the opportunity to pursue the borrower’s other resources. A full recourse loan, however, extends the lender’s claim beyond the property itself. The borrower remains liable regardless of what becomes of the property. The central question, then, concerns what precisely is being “sold” in such a contract.
If the lender may seek repayment from the borrower’s other assets or income, the interest charged is no longer bound to the property, its value, or the risk associated with it. Because a full recourse loan permits this, the lender’s claim does not really rest upon the property but upon the borrower’s general obligation to repay. Which is to say, the lender’s claim terminates not in the property but in the borrower. The interest therefore appears, at least in part, as payment for the use of money, which Aquinas condemns.
By contrast, proponents of the distinction argue that since interest in a non-recourse loan remains bound to the property and the risk attached to it, what is effectively being sold through the charging of interest is the provision of capital under conditions in which the lender assumes the risk of losing that particular property—or its original value—and the lender’s claim of contingent ownership of the property when the loan is concluded. Whereas, again, in a full recourse loan, the lender’s claim rests ultimately upon the borrower’s person rather than upon the property itself, which functions only as secondary security. And because the borrower in a full recourse loan must repay regardless of the property’s fate, the interest is thus interpreted as compensation not only for the danger of risk, nor just for any contingent ownership claim on the property, but moreover for the use of the money loaned, which is usury.
Yet this argument presents several challenges. For instance, a non-recourse loan bears only a superficial resemblance to an investment partnership (or societas). In such a loan, the lender’s return is typically fixed in advance rather than determined by the property’s changing value, and the borrower ordinarily bears the lion’s share of responsibility for maintaining and managing the property. The arrangement therefore differs significantly from a true and just partnership in which both risk and reward are genuinely shared. In truth, a non-recourse loan more closely resembles a mutuum loan than proponents of the distinction are willing to admit.
Nevertheless, the deeper issue lies elsewhere. It is unnecessary to rehearse every difficulty in the argument, for the fundamental distinction itself arises not from Scripture but from an Aristotelian framework. Even if Aquinas were on to something in identifying the quintessential character of usury as the charging for what does not truly exist—that is, for the use of money considered apart from the money itself—this addresses only one dimension of the biblical concern. According to many of the church fathers, as well as Luther, Chemnitz, and Walther, the primary offense of lending at interest is against God Himself. They all regarded lending at interest primarily as a violation of the first commandment, a form of idolatry specifically warned against in Psalm 15 and Ezekiel 18. According to this understanding, God has ordained lending to be an act of charity toward one’s neighbor, yet we poor sinners have transformed it into a means of profiting from our neighbor’s need, thereby revealing a pitiful lack of trust in God’s will and providence and a readiness to serve mammon instead, to the offense of God and the injury of our neighbor.
Furthermore, by turning lending into a mechanism for profit, we have defiantly subverted its very purpose. What God intended as an occasion for charity and the exercise of virtue, an instrument of our sanctification, has been repurposed into a shameful tool for self-enrichment.
One need only consider Christian life in America today. How often do we lend to a brother in need, and how often do we instead send him to a bank, an institution that charges interest and profits handsomely from that very need? In such a case, not only does our neighbor suffer at the hands of profiteers, but we ourselves forfeit the chance to exercise charity and thereby store up treasure in heaven.
For this reason, the entire distinction between full recourse and non-recourse loans proves largely irrelevant to the principal biblical question. Scripture itself makes no such distinction, nor does it imply anything even remotely equivalent upon which the conscience could safely rely. And whatever scholastic citations may be offered, they do nothing to change the reality that lending at interest for profit nourishes greed and strengthens the rule of mammon in the hearts of men.
All that to say, every loan, whether private or commercial, that is distinct from an investment or true partnership, and in which a lender profits from interest, is sinful. Or at least, this was the position of the historic church.
And profit is key here. Throughout this series we have mentioned a certain exception several times: that of interesse. Medieval theologians understood interesse to be distinct from usury or profit. In their reasoning, interesse is not a charge for the use of money but a justified indemnity for a demonstrable loss incurred on account of lending.
Which brings us to the question on every reader’s mind: What about inflation?
If I lend my brother some money today and expect the principal to be returned in a few years’ time, then, because of the persistent reality of inflation in our modern economic system, that principal will almost certainly be worth less when it is fully repaid.
Given this reality, I am inclined to believe that inflation may justify the charging of interesse. It appears to fall within the category described by the medieval theologians, which Luther, Chemnitz, and Walther all accepted.
Historically, however, interesse was permitted only at the conclusion of a loan, when the loss could be calculated with some accuracy. What is more, it could be charged only to those in a position to bear the cost. If a brother stands in genuine need and cannot afford to compensate the lender for the loss incurred, then the charity inherent in lending requires that the lender bear the loss himself.
In the context of private lending, charging interesse at the conclusion of a loan to cover whatever has been lost through inflation, while taking into account the borrower’s financial circumstances, would be relatively manageable. But on a commercial scale, the matter would be more complicated; unless most lending were to become more local and personal again, which our faith may well suggest it ought to be.
At this point, and very briefly, I want to run through a handful of additional practical steps that may help further mitigate the spiritual harm usually caused by living in a usurious economic system.
In private lending, a Christian must never charge for the use of money or resources, nor should he ever profit from a loan to his brother. If the borrower cannot even repay the principal, then whatever remains owed should be forgiven. We are called to relieve the poor and to bear losses for those who are in worse circumstances than ourselves. Again, see our Lord’s two most famous sermons.
If, however, the borrower can afford to compensate the lender for some demonstrable loss incurred through the loan, such as with interesse, then such payment may be expected. And if the borrower somehow profits as a result of having access to the loaned money and wishes to share that profit, as justice may require, then the lender may gladly receive that share as a gift. Again, this is what the church has traditionally called an antidoron.
A Christian should never use a credit card for nonessential purchases. This is not only good spiritual counsel but sound practical advice. Better to avoid credit altogether, but especially when it comes to nonessentials.
With regard to banking, Christians should prioritize local credit unions whenever possible, as their practices are often far less predatory. In our day, when someone maintains a savings account, the interest paid is generally well below the rate of inflation. Strictly speaking, the nature of such a transaction does not entirely fit the historical parameters of interesse, but it comes close enough, I suppose.
Christians should have nothing whatsoever to do with payday lending or similar schemes. Pastors, moreover, ought to preach against such predatory practices far more frequently. In this respect, we are certainly failing.
Additionally, Christians should never work in any field that directly relies on anything even approximating predatory lending or other manifestly usurious practices. If they do, their pastors and fellow Christians should rebuke them. If a self-proclaimed Christian were making their living on OnlyFans, we would find that appalling. Why, then, should our judgment differ when the matter concerns participation in usury? Simply labeling something “finance” does not render it any less perverse or exploitative. Indeed, it is worth remembering that in Luther’s day, “finance” was very much a dirty word.
When it comes to investment, matters become considerably more convoluted. Even when an investment or partnership is itself just, most investment opportunities in our society nonetheless remain entangled in other usurious practices, because our entire economic system is, in truth, built upon them. Bank-created credit and interest-bearing debt permeate nearly every market.
At the very least, though, we can consider some better alternatives. For example, investing locally in real estate or in enterprises that produce goods, services, or employment in our area is far safer than entrusting our retirement to faraway investment companies that are inextricably tied to the usury and speculation (i.e., gambling) of Wall Street.
Paul informs us in 1 Corinthians 5:10 that we cannot always avoid interaction with evil unless we were to be removed from the world entirely. Yet he also writes in 1 Thessalonians 5:22 that we should avoid even the “appearance of evil.” Clearly, then, living as Christians in a sinful world is not a walk in the park.
Given that investing in our present circumstances is nearly impossible without some indirect participation in profiting from lending, I am of the opinion that, unless we can be reasonably certain of the just nature of our investments, we should not really seek any overall profit from them, but only attempt, at most, to recover what is lost through inflation. I am not suggesting that investment is by its very nature sinful. Rather, I am suggesting that, given the byzantine nature of modern investment and its deep entanglement with usurious practices, we might be better served by avoiding any genuine profit from our investments. Again: “Better is a little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure with trouble.” If nothing else, doing so would further weaken our attachment to material possessions and mammon.
The truth is that few Christians living in a modern economy can completely disentangle themselves from its injustices. At the same time, we could absolutely do better.
Of course, I can offer only a handful of ideas here. What we truly need is to start a much more thorough conversation—which, after all, was the stated purpose of this series. We need to talk about these things more. Scripture has just as much to say about economic injustice and the idolatry of greed as it does about sexual sin or whatever other perversions “conservative” Christians prefer to emphasize. Historically speaking, usury was one of the most glaring sins addressed by the church. And remember: Jesus only ever took up the whip for a certain kind of sin.
So why not have the conversation? Why not continue the debate? Why not take the Word of God a little more seriously?
And to tell you the truth here, I find myself in total agreement with Walther: what better way to restart this conversation, and what better way to persuade people of the truth of the historic teaching against usury, than by gathering together and reading Luther on the topic?
We are Lutherans. We claim to love Luther. And Luther had a great deal to say about usury.
If you are a pastor, maybe reading Luther on usury would serve well for your next Winkel or for a study within your congregation. If you are a layperson, consider bringing this idea to your pastor.
That is my advice, for now. I know some will be disappointed here; they will have expected much more. But where we go from here does not depend on me alone. I am only one tired voice.
Where should we go from here? We should return to the Word of God, and to a forthright conversation about what that Word requires of us in our everyday lives, even in matters of finance and investment. And perhaps, along the way, the Christian economist will show up to offer his two cents.
I will close here where I began last year, with the words of King Solomon from Proverbs 8:10–11: “Receive my instruction, and not silver; and knowledge rather than choice gold. For wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it.”
God’s Word has something to say to us about lending at interest—namely, that it is sinful usury. Our love of silver and gold may tempt us to ignore God’s instruction on this matter. Our avarice may contrive some new pretense to explain away His Word. Yet wisdom is better than rubies, better than mammon, better than profit gained through lending. And if we truly believe in God, in heaven, and in the new creation, then we should care more about the treasure laid up there than about all the things we do not truly need down here.
God’s wisdom is priceless. And as Paul implies, so is contentment. Think on that, friends.
Usury may always exist, until kingdom come. But that does not mean we must accept it along the way. Not for a moment.
We have got to talk about usury. And not just me. Nor just the handful of people who have patiently read through this entire series. But all of us. This conversation is both necessary and, I would argue, timely.
Suffice it to say, dear Gottesdienst reader, there is something else in the attic that needs dusting.
So let’s get dusting.