Long known for his work in New Testament studies, Bart Ehrman’s Love Thy Stranger examines an intriguing question: Why is it that we are compelled to help not only those we care about but also others outside of our immediate circle of relationships? This inquiry is not theological in nature for Ehrman, as he is a former evangelical who now identifies as an agnostic atheist. Instead, he approaches this question as a socio-historical study. His thesis is simple and straightforward: This urge is primarily influenced by Christianity. He writes, “The impulse to help strangers in need is embedded in our Western moral conscience because of the teachings of Jesus” (p. 2).

In chapters 1–3, Ehrman examines the notion of altruism, which proves to be a bit trickier than is perhaps initially imagined. A person may enjoy helping someone in need, but is their action precipitated by a desire to help (altruism) or because it will feel better once the person acts (egoism)? Motivations aside, the salient point here is that people desire to serve not just their family but also strangers. Such a desire would have been wholly foreign to the ancient Greeks and Romans, for whom the main concerns in life were more egocentric.

Chapter 4 examines the background of Jesus’s ethics. Readers familiar with Ehrman will recognize his penchant for claiming the gospels are not written by eyewitnesses and frequently contradict each other (p. 90). He has a naturalistic view of Scripture that rejects divine authorship (in the style of the Bauer thesis) and does not see Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah prophesied in the Old Testament. Instead, he sees Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet who expected the imminent end of the age (pp. 91–92). Thus, Jesus commands his followers not to store up their treasures on earth since they will soon be in heaven. In the meantime, we should care for others (p. 97). In chapter 5, Ehrman writes that “love stands at the very center of Jesus’s ethical instruction” (p. 102). Further, love is more than a feeling—it entails action. Jesus sees love as outwardly focused on those in need, regardless of their ability to repay.

In chapters 6–8, Ehrman argues that Jesus’s teachings were gradually modified as the church grew and spread. Given that the end of the world was not as imminent as initially thought, how then should we live? Again, given that Ehrman rejects any notion of unity of Scripture, its figures (like Paul and Jesus) do not complement each other but are often contrasted to highlight discrepancies. For example, while Jesus is concerned with helping those in need, the apostle Paul focuses more on church life (p. 145). He writes, “Jesus urged his followers to help the poor and needy whoever they are, wherever they live, and whatever religion they embrace. Where is this in Paul?” (p.150). Not only does Paul deviate from Jesus’s main emphases, but many subsequent Christians do as well. Christian service is philanthropic insofar as it is missional (p. 154). However, the emphasis on service eventually extended not only to Christians but also to strangers—everyone is worthy of attention and care.

Ehrman sees Christians (beginning with those of the early church) as cherry-picking Jesus’s moral commands (p. 163). Ultimately, Christians typically do not literally follow these imperatives (i.e., few people sell all they have and give it to the poor). However, Jesus’s emphasis on caring for others—irrespective of relationship or social status—led to the formation of institutions like hospitals (p. 197). The very fact that we feel we should care for others and feel guilty when we fail to do so is evidence of the moral revolution instigated by Jesus’s teachings. On this front, Ehrman’s thesis succeeds and pairs well with other books in this area (e.g., Tom Holland, Dominion [Basic Books, 2019]).

However, I do have some concerns. Ehrman rightly distinguishes between forgiveness and atonement; however, he adds that the concepts are mutually exclusive (p. 72). He writes, “Forgiveness is not possible if there is atonement, and where there is atonement, there is no forgiveness” (p. 72). Further, while Jesus taught forgiveness, Ehrman contends the emphasis on atonement came later with the New Testament authors (p. 131; 199–209). Yet it is difficult to square this away with texts like Luke 4:16–21, where Jesus says he fulfills Isaiah 61; thus, Jesus sees himself as the Suffering Servant. In Gethsemane, Jesus prays to have the cup of God’s wrath removed (Luke 22:42). Both texts counter Ehrman’s claim that atonement was a later addition to Christian doctrine.

For Ehrman, the Bible is not divinely inspired and often contradicts itself; however, Jesus’s moral teachings have greatly impacted our world, and we ought to recognize that. Moreover, when it comes to the failure to obey Jesus’s moral prescriptions, Ehrman sees most Christians as inconsistent (p. 138), hypocritical (pp. 219–20), or even malevolent (p. 166). However, his treatment of social issues is remarkably superficial and rehashes modern liberal scholarship. In other words, his liberal views of biblical inspiration, inerrancy, and the like overflows into his discussion of ethics—if Christians are going to follow Jesus’s teachings, then it ought to be done in the way Ehrman understands them.

Ehrman also suggests that it “is impossible to know” if institutions like hospitals, orphanages, and charities would have been created apart from the Christian movement (p. 221). In Kuhnian terms, Ehrman’s central thesis is an anomaly that his paradigm cannot explain. Given the centrality of the imago dei in Christian theology and praxis, I suspect it is possible to know—the answer is no. In a naturalistic framework with atheistic presuppositions, what room is there for grounding “human rights” (p. 165)? Ehrman’s presuppositions preclude the notion of objective worth and value, both of which are required to supervene a Darwinian paradigm where the fittest survive at the expense of the weakest.