THE SEVENTH commandment, "Thou shalt not commit adultery," is a statement about basic human relation ships. Like the other simply worded commandments—"Honour thy father and thy mother," "Thou shalt not kill," "Thou shalt not steal," "Thou shalt not bear false witness," "Thou shalt not covet"—the seventh commandment em bodies principles and values that have far-reaching implications. As the entire law is "a revelation of the will and the character of its Author" (The Great Controversy, p. 467), each part of the law tells us something of the values by which God wants man to live.
In this commandment God is concerned about more than extramarital sexual liaisons, as is amply documented in many parts of the Bible. When ancient Israel turned from God to worship pagan idols, Jeremiah and Ezekiel reprimanded the nation for committing adultery. (See Jer. 3:8; Eze. 23:37; Rev. 2:22.)
Thus the underlying principle in the seventh commandment would seem to be that when two persons commit them selves to each other for certain objectives, they should honor that commitment with loyalty and fidelity. Their motivations and conduct should be open and transparent to each other, and each should be able to trust the other. When partners in a marriage honor their vows, believing in each other and working toward common goals, we speak of their fidelity to each other. When one disregards those vows and pursues a selfish course, we describe such action as infidelity. Similarly, one who disavows a commitment to a religious faith may be spoken of as an infidel.
Fidelity is a quality greatly needed in the world today. Sometimes it seems that it is even in short supply within the membership of the Seventh-day Adventist Church, to say nothing of the employees of the organization itself. Fidelity is a quality of the seventh commandment that directs us to believe in, uphold, and honor our associates. Let me illustrate this from an experience with our family pet.
Some years ago we had a big Labrador, black as coal, whom we called Cobba ("Pal," in the common parlance of Australia). He was a beautiful dog, well disciplined, obedient, loyal, and true, and a terror to anyone who might challenge a member of the family. He didn't roam the neighborhood, but was always at home. You could count on him. We had him in Africa, when our children were growing up; they ranged in age from two to ten. They romped and tum bled with that dog. He tolerated all their roughness and foolishness with the greatest of patience. Even I enjoyed an occasional period of play with Cobba.
If we went for a walk he would run along with us if we called him to do so, or he would remain at home if we so ordered, and he would do either cheer fully. Cobba was at the height of his glory on a walk. As all dogs are, he was curious, running off momentarily to chase a squirrel or cat, or just investigating; but he was always back at our side without the need for a call. The Labrador just seemed to sense his responsibility and was a model of good canine behavior.
Then one day I did something to Cobba for the first—and last—time. I grabbed him by the tail, thoughtlessly. I did it in play, not really meaning to hurt him. However, the effect on Cobba was immediate and disrupting. He didn't try to bite me or defend himself in any way. He was too loyal for that. However, he thought better of me and was offended. Sticking his tail between his legs, he beat a fast retreat to home. As far as he was concerned, our relationship had changed. I had let him down.
When I returned to the house the dog was lying on the front porch in a very melancholy mood, not even wagging his tail in his usual greeting. He never moved, never twitched a muscle. His big black eyes stared off into space. I petted him and talked to him, but he didn't respond.
After a few hours, Cobba forgot all about the incident and was himself once again, but I have never forgotten it. I still feel bad whenever I think of the temporary damage I did to that beautiful dog in a careless, thoughtless moment. I have tried to analyze what took place in the dog's response and have arrived at these two conclusions:
First, when I grabbed him by the tail, I did the unexpected. I approached him from the wrong end. It was a sneak attack. He didn't think I would take advantage of him when his back was turned. In other words, he had more confidence in me than I deserved.
Second, I gave him no opportunity to defend himself; he didn't have a chance to understand what was going on. I acted without preparing him for the "game" I thought we were playing.
This incident reflects what I believe the seventh commandment is all about. It points beyond the most obvious intent of this commandment to an eternal principle. Whether at the beginning in heaven Lucifer indulged his fancies in play or in spite, he must have violated this commandment in doing the unexpected against God. Trustworthiness, fidelity, and loyalty must be as important in heaven as they are on earth.
Fidelity in the marriage relationship means a great deal more than just refraining from what is commonly regarded as adultery. It means that I will always be the same to my wife, whether in her presence or in her absence. When I talk about her when she isn't present or engage in other behavior related to our marriage vows I will always be loyal to her. I will always honor her.
In the same way, fidelity in my relationships with all my associates will reflect the same type of conduct, regard less of the circumstances. I will never take advantage of someone in any situation. The rights, the individuality, of every person I meet will be carefully respected.
Ellen White has written, "Fidelity to God involves fidelity to man. Thus the law guards the rights, the individuality, of every human being. It restrains the superior from oppression, and the sub ordinate from disobedience. It insures man's well-being, both for this world and for the world to come. To the obedient it is the pledge of eternal life, for it expresses the principles that endure forever." Education, p. 77.
