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diff --git a/old/63510-0.txt b/old/63510-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c13b827..0000000 --- a/old/63510-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11540 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kernel and the Husk, by Edwin A. Abbott - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Kernel and the Husk - Letters on Spiritual Christianity - -Author: Edwin A. Abbott - -Release Date: October 20, 2020 [EBook #63510] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KERNEL AND THE HUSK *** - - - - -Produced by Bryan Ness, David King, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - The Kernel and the Husk - - - - - THE KERNEL AND THE HUSK - - Letters on Spiritual Christianity - - BY - - EDWIN A. ABBOTT - - THE AUTHOR OF - “PHILOCHRISTUS” AND “ONESIMUS” - - - London: - MACMILLAN AND CO. - 1886 - - _The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._ - - - - - TO - THE DOUBTERS OF THIS GENERATION - AND - THE BELIEVERS OF THE NEXT - - - - - TO THE READER - - -The time is not perhaps far distant when few will believe in miracles -who do not also believe in an infallible Church; and then, such books as -the present will appeal to a larger circle. But, as things are, the -author would beg all those who worship a miraculous Christ without doubt -and difficulty to pause here and read no further. The book is not -intended for them; it is intended for those alone to whom it is -dedicated, “the doubters of this generation.” - -For there are some who feel drawn towards the worship of Christ by love -and reverence, yet repelled by an apparently inextricable connection of -the story of Christ with a miraculous element which, in their minds, -throws a doubt over the whole of His acts, His doctrine, His character, -and even His existence. Others, who worship Christ, worship Him -insecurely and tremulously. They assume that their faith must rest on -the basis of the Bible miracles; and at times they cannot quite suppress -a thrill of doubt and terror lest some horrible discovery of fresh -truth, resulting in the destruction of the miraculous element of the -Bible, may impair their right to regard Christ as “anything better than -a mere man.” It is to these two classes—the would-be worshippers and the -doubtful worshippers of Christ—that the following Letters are addressed -by one who has for many years found peace and salvation in the worship -of a non miraculous Christ. - -Not very long ago, but some years after the publication of a work called -_Philochristus_, the author received a letter from a stranger and -fellow-clergyman, asking him whether he could spare half an hour to -visit him on his death-bed, “dying of a disease”—so ran the letter -“which will be fatal within some uncertain weeks (possibly however days, -possibly months). No pains just now, head clear, voice sound. And mind -at peace, but the peace of reverent agnosticism..... Now I have read and -appreciated _Philochristus_. It would comfort my short remainder of life -if you would come and look me dying in the face and say, ‘This theology -and Christology of mine is not merely literary: I feel with joy of heart -that God is not unknown to man: try even now to feel with me.’” - -Of what passed at the subsequent interview nothing must be said except -that the dying man (whose anticipations of death were speedily verified) -expressed the conviction that one reason why he had fallen into that -abyss of agnosticism—for an abyss he then felt it to be—was that he had -been “taught to believe too much when young;” and he urged and almost -besought that something might be done soon to “give young men a religion -that would wear.” These words were not to be forgotten; they recurred -again and again to the author with the force of a command. The present -work is an attempt to carry them into effect, an attempt, by one who has -passed through doubts into conviction, to look the doubting reader in -the face and say, “This theology and Christology of mine is not merely -literary. I feel with joy of heart that God is not unknown to man. Try -even now to feel with me.” - -The author does not profess to clear Christianity from all -“difficulties.” If a revelation is to enlarge our conceptions of God, it -must involve some spiritual effort on our part to receive the larger -truth; if it claims to be historical, it may well impose on some of its -adherents the labour needed for the judgment of historical evidence; if -it prompts, without enforcing, obedience, it must excite in all some -questionings as to the causes which led the Revealer not to make His -revelation irresistibly convincing. Even the explanations of the -mysterious phenomena of motion, light, and chemistry, involve -“difficulties” in the acceptance of still more mysterious Laws which we -cannot at present explain. Nevertheless we all feel that we understand -astronomy better in the light of the Law of gravitation: and in the same -way some may feel that Christianity becomes more spiritual, as well as -more clear, when it becomes more natural; and that many of its so-called -“difficulties” fade or vanish, when what may be called its celestial and -its terrestrial phenomena are found to rest upon similar principles. - - - - - TABLE OF CONTENTS - - _Letter_ _Page_ - - 1 _Introductory_ 1 - - 2 _Personal_ 5 - - 3 _Knowledge_ 20 - - 4 _Ideals_ 29 - - 5 _Ideals and Tests_ 40 - - 6 _Imagination and Reason_ 47 - - 7 _The Culture of Faith_ 59 - - 8 _Faith and Demonstration_ 72 - - 9 _Satan and Evolution_ 80 - - 10 _Illusions_ 97 - - 11 _What is Worship?_ 111 - - 12 _The Worship of Christ_ 125 - - 13 _What is “Nature”?_ 134 - - 14 _The Miracles of the Old Testament_ 142 - - 15 _The Miracles of the New Testament_ 158 - - 16 _The Growth of the Gospels_ 170 - - 17 _Christian Illusions_ 185 - - 18 _Are the Miracles inseparable from 201 - the Life of Christ?_ - - 19 _The Feeding of the Four Thousand and 212 - the Five Thousand_ - - 20 _The Manifestation of Christ to St. 225 - Paul_ - - 21 _The Development of Imagination and 233 - its bearing on the Revelation of - Christ’s Resurrection_ - - 22 _Christ’s Resurrection regarded 240 - naturally_ - - 23 _Faith in the spiritual Resurrection 246 - is better than so-called knowledge of - the material Resurrection_ - - 24 _What is a Spirit?_ 258 - - 25 _The Incarnation_ 267 - - 26 _Prayer, Heaven, Hell_ 281 - - 27 _Pauline Theology_ 298 - - 28 _Objections_ 310 - - 29 _Can Natural Christianity commend 320 - itself to the masses?_ - - - APPENDIX - - 30 _Can a believer in Natural 339 - Christianity be a Minister in the Church - of England?_ - - 31 _What the Bishops might do_ 354 - - DEFINITIONS 369 - - - - - I - INTRODUCTORY - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I am more pained than surprised to infer from your last letter that your -faith has received a severe shock. A single term at the University has -sufficed to make you doubt whether you retain a belief in miracles; and -“If miracles fall, the Bible falls; and with the fall of the Bible I -lose Christ; and if I must regard Christ as a fanatic, I do not see how -I can believe in a God who suffered such a one as Christ thus to be -deceived and to deceive others.” Such appear to be the thoughts that are -passing through your mind, as I infer them from incidental and indirect -expressions rather than from any definite statement. - -Unfortunately I understand all this too well not to be able to follow -with ease such phases of disbelief even when conveyed in hints. Many -young men begin by being taught to believe too much, a great deal too -much. Then, when they find they must give up something, (the husk of the -kernel) their teachers too often bid them swallow husk and all, on pain -of swallowing nothing: and they prefer to swallow nothing. An instance -of this at once occurs to me. Many years ago, a young man who wished to -be ordained, asked me to read the Old Testament with him. We set to work -at once and read some miraculous history—I forget precisely what—in -which I thought my young friend must needs see a difficulty. So I began -to point out how the difficulty might be at least diminished by critical -considerations. I say “I began”: for I stopped as soon as I had begun, -finding that my friend saw no difficulty at all. He accepted every -miracle on every page of the Old and New Testament on the authority of -the Bible; just as a Roman Catholic accepts every ecclesiastical -doctrine on the authority of the Church. This seemed to me not a state -of mind that I ought to interfere with: I might do more harm than good. -So I stopped. But I have since regretted it. Circumstances prevented me -from meeting my friend for some weeks. During that time he had fallen in -with companions of negative views, against which he had no power to -maintain his position: and he had passed from believing everything to -believing nothing. That is only too easy a transition; but I hope you -will never experience it. Surely there is a medium between swallowing -the husk, and throwing the nut away. Is it not possible to throw away -the husk and keep the kernel? - -Now I have no right (and therefore I try to feel no wish) to extract -from you a confidence that you do not care to repose in me. I have never -tried to shake any one’s faith in miracles. There may come—I think there -will soon come—a time when a belief in miracles will be found so -incompatible with the reverence which we ought to feel for the Supreme -Order as almost to necessitate superstition, and to encourage immorality -in the holder of the belief: and then it might be necessary to express -one’s condemnation of miracles plainly and even aggressively. But that -time has not come yet: and for most people, at present, an acceptance of -miracles seems, and perhaps is, a necessary basis for their acceptance -of Christ. In such minds I would no more wish to disturb the belief in -miracles than I would shake a little child’s faith that his father is -perfectly good and wise. But when a man says, “the miracles of Christ -are inextricably connected with the life of Christ; I am forced to -reject the former, and therefore I must also reject the latter”—then I -feel moved to shew him that there is no such inextricable connection, -and that Christ will remain for us a necessary object of worship, even -if we detach the miracles from the Gospels. Now I cannot do this without -shewing that the miraculous accounts stand on a lower level than the -rest of the Gospel narrative, and that they may have been easily -introduced into the Gospels without any sufficient basis of fact, and -yet without any intention to deceive; so that the discrediting of the -miracles will not discredit their non-miraculous context. In doing this, -I might possibly destroy any lingering vestige of belief which you may -still have in the miraculous; and this I am most unwilling to do, if you -find miracles a necessary foundation of Christian faith. - -I do not therefore quite know as yet how I ought to try to help you, -except by saying that I have myself passed through the same valley of -doubt through which you are passing now, and that I have reached a faith -in Christ which is quite independent of any belief in the miraculous, -and which enables me not only to trust in Him, but also to worship Him. -This new faith appears to me purer, nobler, and happier, as well as -safer, than the old: but I do not feel sure that it is attainable (in -the present condition of thought) without more unprejudiced reflection -and study than most people are willing to devote to subjects of this -kind. And to give up the old faith, without attaining the new, would be -a terrible disaster. Hence I am in doubt, not about what is best, but -about what may be _best for you_. Do not at all events assume—so much I -can safely say—that you must give up your faith in Christ, if you are -obliged to give up your belief in miracles. At the very least, wait a -while; stand on the old paths; keep up the old habits, above all, the -habit of prayer; pause and look round you a little before taking the -next step. I do not say, though I am inclined to say, “avoid for the -present all discussions with people of negative views,” because I fear -my advice, though really prudent, would seem to you cowardly: but I do -unhesitatingly say, “avoid all frivolous talk, and light, airy, -epigrammatic conversations on religious subjects.” You cannot hope to -retain or regain faith if you throw away the habit of reverence. With -this advice, farewell for the present. - - - II - PERSONAL - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You tell me that you fear your faith is far too roughly shaken to suffer -now from anything that may be said against miracles: you are utterly -convinced that they are false. As for the possibility of worshipping a -non-miraculous Christ, “the very notion of it,” you say, “is -inconceivable: it seems like a new religion, and must surely be no more -than a very transient phase of thought.” But you would “very much like -to know what processes of reasoning led to such a state of mind,” and -how long I have retained it. - -I think I am hardly doing you an injustice in inferring from some other -expressions in your letter, about “the difficulty which clergymen must -necessarily feel in putting themselves into the mental position of the -laity,” that you entertain some degree of prejudice against my views, -not only because they appear to you novel, but because—although you -hardly like to say so—they come from a clerical source, and are likely -to savour of clericalism. Let me see if I can put your thoughts into the -plain words from which your own modesty and sense of propriety have -caused you to refrain. “A clergyman,” you say to yourself, “has -enlisted; he has deliberately taken a side and is bound to fight for it. -After twenty years of seeing one side of a question, or only so much of -the other side as is convenient to see, how can even a candid, -middle-aged cleric see two sides impartially? All his interests combine -with all his sympathies to make him at least in some sense orthodox. The -desire of social esteem, the hope of preferment, loyalty to the Church, -loyalty to Christ Himself, make him falsely true to that narrow form of -truth which he has bound himself to serve. Even if truth and -irresistible conviction force him to deviate a little from the beaten -road of orthodoxy, he will find his way back by some circuitous by-path; -and of this kind of self-persuasion I have a remarkable instance in the -person of my old friend, who rejects miracles and yet persuades himself -that he worships Christ. He has cut away his foundations and now -proceeds to substitute an aerial basis upon which the old superstructure -is to remain as before. Such a novel condition of mind as this can only -be a very transient phase.” - -I do not complain of this prejudice against novelty, although it comes -ungraciously from one who is himself verging on advanced and novel -views. It is good that new opinions should be suspiciously scrutinized -and passed through the quarantine of prejudice. And when a man feels (as -I do) that he has at last attained a profound spiritual truth which -will, in all probability, be generally accepted by educated Christians -who are not Roman Catholics, before the twentieth century is far -advanced, he can well afford to be patient of prejudice. Even though the -truth be not accepted now, it is pretty sure to be restated by others -with more skill and cogency, and perhaps at a fitter season, and to gain -acceptance in due time. But when you speak of my opinions as a -“transient phase,” which I am likely soon to give up, and when you shew -a manifest suspicion that any modicum of orthodoxy in me must needs be -the result of a clerical bias, then I hardly see how to reply except by -giving you a detailed answer to your question about “the processes” by -which I was led to “such a novel condition of mind.” Yet how to do this -without being somewhat egotistically autobiographical I do not know. -Some good may come of egotism perhaps, if it leads you to see that even -a clergyman may think for himself, and work out a religious problem -without regard to consequences. So on the whole I think I will risk -egotism for your sake. A few paragraphs of autobiography may serve as a -summary of the argument which I might draw out more fully in future -letters. If I am tedious, lay the blame on yourself and on your -insinuation that my views must be “a transient phase.” A man who is -getting on towards his fiftieth year and has retained a form—a novel -form if you please—of religious conviction for a full third of his life -may surely claim that his views—so far at least as he himself is -concerned—are not to be called “transient.” Prepare then for my -_Apologia_. - -During my childhood I was very much left to myself in the matter of -religion, and may be almost said to have picked it up in a library. I -was never made to learn the Creed by heart, nor the Catechism, nor even -the Ten Commandments; and to this day I can recollect being reproached -by a class-master when I was nearly fourteen years old, for not knowing -which was the Fifth Commandment. All that I could plead in answer was, -that if he would tell me what it was about, I could give him the -substance of the precept. Having read through nearly the whole of Adam -Clarke’s commentary as a boy of ten or eleven, and having subsequently -imbued myself with books of Evangelical doctrine, I was perfectly “up,” -or thought I was, in the Pauline scheme of salvation, and felt a most -lively interest—on Sundays, and in dull moments on week days, and -especially in times of illness, of which I had plenty—in the salvation -of my own soul. My religion served largely to intensify my natural -selfishness. In better and healthier moments, my conscience revolted -against it; and at times I felt that the morality of Plutarch’s Lives -was better than that of St. Paul’s Epistles—as I interpreted them. Only -to one point in the theology of my youthful days can I now look back -with pleasure; and that is to my treatment of the doctrine of -Predestinarianism and necessity. On this matter I argued as follows: “If -God knows all things beforehand, God has them, or may have them, written -down in a book; and if all things that are going to happen are already -written down in a book, it’s of no use our trying to alter them. So, if -it’s predestined that I shall have my dinner to-day, I shall certainly -have it, even if I don’t come home in time, or even though I lock myself -up in my bedroom. But _practically, if I don’t come home in time, I know -I shall not have my dinner. Therefore it’s no use talking about these -things in this sort of way, because it doesn’t answer; and I shall not -bother myself any more about Predestination, but act as thought it did -not exist_.”[1] This argument, if it can be called an argument, I -afterwards found sheltering itself under the high authority of Butler’s -_Analogy_; and I still adhere to it, after an experience of more than -five and thirty years. To some, this “Short Way with Predestinarians” -may seem highly illogical; but it _works_. - -Up to this time I had been little, if at all, impressed by preaching. -Our old Rector was a good Greek scholar and a gentleman; but he had a -difficulty in making his thoughts intelligible to any but a refined -minority among the congregation; and even that select few was made -fewer, partly by an awkwardness of gesture which reminded one of Dominie -Sampson, and partly by a grievous impediment in his speech. Consequently -I had been permitted, and indeed encouraged, never to listen, nor even -to appear to listen, to the weekly sermon; and as soon as the Rector -gave out his text, I used to take up my Bible and read steadily away -till the sermon was over. This sort of thing went on till I was about -sixteen years old; when a new Rector came to preach his first sermon. -That was a remarkable Sunday for me. To my surprise, when he read out -his text, and I, in accordance with unbroken precedent, reached out my -hand for the invariable Bible, my father, somewhat abruptly, took it out -of my hand, bidding me “for once shut up that book and listen to a -sermon.” I can still remember the resentment I felt at this infringement -on my theological and constitutional rights, and how I stiffened my neck -and hardened my heart and determined “hearing to hear, but not to -understand.” But I was compelled to understand. For here, to my -astonishment, was an entirely new religion. This man’s Christianity was -not a “scheme of salvation”; it was a faith in a great Leader, human yet -divine, who was leading the armies of God against the armies of Evil; -“Each for himself is the Devil’s own watchword: but with us it must be -each for Christ, and each for all.” The scales fell from my eyes. After -all, then, Christianity was not less noble than Plutarch’s lives; it was -more noble. There was to be a contest; yet not each man contending for -his own soul, but for good against evil. A Christian was not a mercenary -fighting for reward, nor a slave fighting for fear of stripes, but a -free soldier fighting out of loyalty to Christ and to humanity. - -But what about the doctrine of the Atonement, Justification by Faith, -and the other Pauline doctrines? About these our new Rector did not say -much that I could understand. He was a foremost pupil of Mr. Maurice, -and in Mr. Maurice’s books (which now began to be read freely in my -home) I began to search for light on these questions. But help I found -none or very little, except in one book. Mr. Maurice seemed to me, and -still seems, a very obscure writer. Partly owing to a habit of taking -things for granted and “thinking underground,” partly (and much more) -owing to a confusing use of pronouns for nouns and other mere mechanical -defects of style, he requires very careful reading. But his book on -Sacrifice, after I had three times read it through, gave me more -intellectual help than perhaps any other book on Christian doctrine; for -here first I learned to look below the surface of a rite at its inner -meaning, and also to discern the possibility of illustrating that inner -meaning by the phenomena of daily life. It was certainly a revelation to -me to know that the sacrifice of a lamb by a human offerer was nothing, -except so far as it meant the sacrifice of a human life, and that the -sacrifice of a life meant no more (but also no less) than conforming -one’s life to God’s will, doing (and not saying merely) “Thy will, not -mine, be done.” If one theological process could be illustrated in this -way, why not another? If “sacrifice” was going on before my eyes every -day, why might there not be also justification by faith, imputation of -righteousness, remission of sins, yes, even atonement itself? Thus there -was sown in my mind the seed of the notion that all the Pauline -doctrines might be natural, and that Redemption through Christ was only -a colossal form of that kind of redemption which was going on around me, -Redemption through Nature. This thought was greatly stimulated by the -study of _In Memoriam_, which was given to me by a college friend about -the time when I lost a brother and a sister, both dying within a few -weeks of one another. I read the poem again and again, and committed -much of it to memory; and it exerted an “epoch-making” influence on my -life. However, for a long time this notion of the naturalness of -Redemption existed for me merely in the germ. - -Meantime, as to the miracles I had no doubts at all, or only such -transient doubts as were suggested by pictures of Holy Families and -other sacred subjects, which exhibited Christ as essentially non-human, -with a halo around his head, or as an infant with three outstretched -fingers blessing his kneeling mother. As a youth, I took it for granted -that God could not become man save by a miracle, and therefore that the -God-man must work miracles. Further, I assumed that Moses and some of -the prophets had worked miracles, and if so, how could it be that the -Servants should work miracles and the Son should not? As I grew towards -manhood, such rising qualms of doubt as I felt on this point were -stilled by the suggestion (which I found in Trench’s book on miracles) -that the miracles of Christ must be in accordance with some latent law -of spiritual nature. It was a little strange certainly that these latent -laws should be utilised only for the children of Abraham, and it was -inconvenient that the miracles of Moses should be, materially speaking, -so stupendously superior to those of Christ; but I took refuge in the -greater beauty and emblematic meaning of the latter. Even at the time -when I signed the Thirty-nine Articles I had no suspicion that the -miracles were not historical. Partly, I had never critically and -systematically studied the Gospels as one studies Thucydides or -Æschylus; partly the miracles had always been kept in the background by -my Rector and the books of the Broad Church School, and I had been -accustomed to rest my faith on Christ Himself and not on the miracles; -and so it came to pass that, for some time after I was ordained, I was -quite content to accept all the miracles of the Old and New Testaments, -and to be content with the explanation suggested by “latent laws.” - -But now that I was ordained, I set to work in earnest (the stress of -working for a degree and the need of earning one’s living had left no -time for it before) at the study of the New Testament. Of course I had -“got it up” before, often enough, for the purpose of passing -examinations; but now I began to study it for its own sake and at -leisure. While reading for the Theological Tripos I had been struck by -the inadequacy of many of the theological books that I had had to “get -up.” Especially on the first three Gospels—looking at them critically, -as I had been accustomed to look at Greek and Latin books—I was amazed -to find that little or nothing had been done by English scholars to -compare the different styles and analyse the narratives into their -component parts. For such a task I had myself received some little -preparation. I had picked up my classics without very much assistance -from the ordinary means, mainly by voluntarily committing to memory -whole books or long continuous passages of the best authors, and so -imbuing myself with them as to “get into the swing of the author.” I had -early begun to tabulate these differences of style; and in my final and -most important University examination I remember sending up more than -one piece of composition rendered in two styles. Though I was never a -first-rate composer, owing to my want of practice at school, this method -had succeeded in bringing me to the front in “my year”; and I now -desired to apply my classical studies to the criticism of the first -three Gospels. It seemed to me a monstrous thing that we should have -three accounts of the same life, accounts closely agreeing in certain -parts, but widely varying in others, and yet that, with all the aids of -modern criticism, we should not be able to determine which accounts, or -which parts of the three accounts, were the earliest. At the same time I -began to apply the same method, though without the same attempt at -exactness, to the study of the text of Shakespeare; in which I perceived -some differences of style that implied difference of date, and some that -appeared to imply difference of authorship. - -About this time people began to talk in popular circles concerning -Evolution, and alarm began to be felt in some quarters at the difficulty -of harmonizing its theories with theology. With these fears I never -could in the least degree sympathize. I welcomed Evolution as a luminous -commentary on the divine scheme of the Redemption of mankind. That most -stimulating of books, the _Advancement of Learning_, had taught me to be -prepared to find that in very many cases “while Nature or man intendeth -one thing, God worketh another”; and it was a joy to me to find new -light thrown by Evolution on the unfathomable problems of waste, death, -and conflict. Death and conflict could never be thus explained—I knew -that—but one was enabled to wait more patiently for that explanation -which will never come to us till we are behind the veil, when one found -that death and conflict had at least been subordinated to progress and -development. So I thought; and so I said from the pulpit of one of the -Universities in times when the clergy had not yet learned to call Darwin -“a man of God.” My doctrine was thought “advanced” in those days; but -time has gone on and left me, in some respects, behind it. I should -never have thought, and should not think now, of calling Darwin “a man -of God,” except so far as all patient seekers after truth are men of -God: but I still adhere to the belief that Evolution has made it more -easy to believe in a rational, that is to say a non-miraculous, though -supernatural, Christianity. - -In this direction, then, my thoughts went forward and, so far, found no -stumbling block. Guided by the poets and analytic novelists, I was also -learning to find in the study of the phenomena of daily life fresh -illustrations of the Pauline theology, confirming and developing my -notion (now of some years’ standing) that the Redemption of mankind was -natural, nothing more than a colossal representation of the spiritual -phenomena that may be seen in ordinary men and women every day of our -lives; just as the lightning-flash is no more than (upon a large scale) -the crackling of the hair beneath the comb. Good men and women, I -perceived, are daily redeeming the bad, bearing their sins, imputing -righteousness to them, giving up their lives for them, and imbuing them -with a good spirit. This thought, as it gained force, was a great help -towards a rational Christianity. - -But now my feet began to be entangled in snares and pitfalls. I had -begun the study of the Greek Testament, believing that it would bring -forth _some_ new truth, and assuming that _all_ truth must tend to the -glory of God and of Christ. “Christ,” I said, “is the living Truth, so -that I have but, as Plato says, to ‘follow the Argument,’ and that must -lead me to the truth, and therefore to Him.” But I was not prepared for -the result. After some years of work I found myself gradually led to the -conclusion that the miraculous element in the Gospels was not -historical. A mere glance at the Old Testament shewed that, if there was -not evidence enough for the miracles in the New Testament, much less was -there for the miracles in the Old. - -Before me rose up day by day fresh facts and inferences, not only -demonstrating the insufficiency of the usual evidence to prove that the -miracles were true, but also indicating a very strong probability that -they were false. Often, as I studied the accounts of a miracle, I could -see it as it were in the act of growing up, watch its first entrance -into the Gospel narrative, note its modest beginning, its subsequent -development: and then I was forced to give it up. Worst of all, that -miracle of miracles which was most precious to me, the Resurrection of -Christ, began to appear to be supported by the feeblest evidence of all. -I had not at that time learned to distinguish between the Resurrection -of Christ’s material body and the Resurrection of His Spirit or -spiritual body. Christ’s Resurrection seemed to me therefore in those -days to be either a Resurrection of the material and tangible body or no -Resurrection at all. Now for the Resurrection of the material body I -began to be forced to acknowledge that I could find no basis of -satisfying testimony. I had heard an anecdote of the Head of some -College of Oxford in old days, how he fell asleep after dinner in the -Combination Room, while the Fellows over their wine were discussing -theology, and presently made them all start by exclaiming as he awoke, -“After all there is no evidence for the Resurrection of Christ!” I -realized that now, not with a start, but gradually, and with a growing -feeling of deep and wearing anxiety. If the Resurrection of Christ fell, -what was to become of my faith in Christ? - -Amid this impending ruin of my old belief I saw one tower standing firm. -It was clear that _something_ had happened after the death of Christ to -make new men of His disciples. It was clear also that St. Paul had seen -_something_ that had induced him to believe that Christ had risen from -the dead. That which had convinced St. Paul, an enemy, might very well -convince the Apostles, the devoted followers of Christ. What was this -_something_? It seemed to me that I ought to try to find out. Meantime, -I determined to adopt the advice I gave you in my last letter—to stand -upon the old ways and look around me and consider my path before taking -another step. Circumstances had placed me in such a position that I was -not called on to decide whether a clergyman could entertain such views -as were looming on me, and remain a clergyman. I was not engaged in any -work directly or indirectly requiring clerical qualifications; and as -far as my affections and sentiments were concerned, I went heartily with -the services of the Church of England. - -So I resolved to put aside all theology for two or three years and to -devote myself, during that time, to literary work of another kind. -Meantime, I would retain, as far as possible, the old religious ways of -thought, and, at all events, the old habits. None the less, I would not -give up the intention of investigating the whole truth about the -Resurrection. That there was some nucleus of truth I felt quite certain; -and even if that truth had been embedded in some admixture of illusion, -what then? Were there no illusions in the history of science? Were there -no illusions in the history of God’s Revelation of Himself through the -Old and New Testaments? Might it not be God’s method of Revelation that -men should pass through error to the truth? This line of thought seemed -promising, but I would not at once follow it. I would wait three years -and then work out the question of the influence of illusion on religious -truth. - -An old college acquaintance, an agnostic, whom I met about this time, -was not a little startled when I told him my thoughts. He frankly -informed me that, though I was “placed in a painful position,” I was -“bound to speak out.” I also thought that I was “bound to speak out”; -but I did not feel bound to obtrude immature views upon the world, with -the result perhaps of afterwards altering or recanting them. So I took -time, plenty of time; I looked about me, on life as well as on books; I -formed a habit of testing assumptions and asking the meaning of common -words, especially such words as knowledge, faith, certainty, belief, -proof, and the like. Believing that theology was made for man and not -man for theology, I began to test theological as well as other -propositions by the question “How do they _work_?” Meantime I tried my -utmost to do the duties of my daily life without distraction and with -the same energy as before, hoping that life itself, and the needs of -life, would throw some light upon the question, “What knowledge about -God is necessary for men who are to do their duty? And how can that -knowledge be obtained?” - -By these means I was led to see that a great part of what we call -knowledge does not come to us, as we falsely suppose it does, through -mere logic or Reason, nor through unaided experience, but through the -emotions and the Imagination, tested by Reason and experience. Even in -the world of science, I found that the so-called “laws and properties of -matter,” nay, the very existence of matter, were nothing more than -suggestions of the scientific Imagination aided by experience. A great -part of the environment and development of mankind appeared to have been -directed towards the building up of the imaginative faculty, without -which, it seemed that religion, as well as poetry, would have been -non-existent. So by degrees, it occurred to me that perhaps I had been -on the wrong track in my search after religious truth. I had been -craving a purely historical and logical proof of Christ’s divinity, and -had felt miserable that I could not obtain it. But now I perceived that -I was not intended to obtain it. Not thus was Christ to be embraced. -There must indeed be a basis of fact: but after all it was to that -imaginative faculty which we call “faith,” that I must look, at least in -part, for the right interpretation of fact. That Christ could be -apprehended only by faith was a Pauline common-place; but that Christ’s -Resurrection could be grasped only by faith, and not by the acceptance -of evidence, was, to me, a new proposition. But I gradually perceived -that it was true. I might be doubtful whether Thomas touched the side of -the risen Saviour, yet sure that Christ had risen from the dead in the -Spirit, and had manifested Himself after death to His disciples. My -standard of certainty being thus shifted, many things of which I had -formerly felt certain became uncertain; but, by way of compensation, -other things—and these the most necessary and vital became more certain -than ever. I felt less inclined to dogmatize about the existence of -matter; but my soul was imbued with a fuller conviction of the existence -of a God; and deeper still became the feeling that, so far as things are -known to me, there is nothing in heaven or earth more divine than -Christ. - -Thus at last light dawned upon my darkness; and when the sun rose once -more upon me, it was the same sun as before, only more clearly seen -above the mists of illusion which had before obscured it. The old -beliefs of my youth and childhood remained or came back to me, -exhibiting Jesus of Nazareth as the Incarnate Son of God, the Eternal -Word triumphant over death, seated at the right hand of the Father in -heaven, the source of life and light to all mankind. Like Christian in -_Pilgrim’s Progress_, I found myself suddenly freed from a great -burden—a burden of doubts, and provisos, and conditions which, in old -days, had seemed to forbid me from accepting Jesus as the Lord and -Saviour of mankind unless I could strain my conscience to accept as true -a number of stories many of which I almost certainly knew to be false. -In order to believe in Christ, it was now no longer needful to believe -in suspensions of the laws of Nature: on the contrary, all Nature seemed -to combine to prepare the way to conform humanity to that image of God -which was set forth in the Incarnation. I did not, as some Christians -do, ignore the existence of Satan (and almost of sin) which Christ -Himself most clearly recognized; but I seemed to see that evil was being -gradually subordinated to good, and falsehood made the stepping-stone to -truth. - -Through evil to good; through sin to a righteousness higher than could -have been attained save through sin; through falsehood to the truth; -through superstition to religion—this seemed to me the divine evolution -discernible in the light that was shed from the cross of Christ. No -longer now did it seem impossible or absurd that the Gospel of the Truth -might have been temporarily obscured by illusions or superstitions even -in the earliest times. - -I think it must be now some ten years since I settled down to the belief -that the history of Christianity had been the history of profound -religious truth, contained in, and preserved by, illusions; an ascent of -worship through illusion to the truth. A belief that has been fifteen -years in making, and for ten years more has been reviewed, criticized, -and finally retained as being historically true and spiritually -healthful, you must not call, I think, “a transient phase”. But I -forgive you the expression. A dozen pages of autobiography are a -sufficient penalty for three offending words. - -Footnote 1: - - That children, even at a much younger age than ten, do sometimes - exercise their young minds to very ill purpose about these subtle - metaphysical questions is probably within the experience of all who - know anything about children, and it is amusingly illustrated by the - following answer (which I have on the authority of an intimate friend) - from a seven-years-old to his mother when blaming him for some - misconduct: “Why did you born me then? I didn’t want to be borned. You - should have asked me before you borned me.” - - - - - III - KNOWLEDGE - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You ask me to explain, in detail, what I mean by asserting that the -Imagination is the basis of knowledge. “Apparently,” you say, “our -knowledge of the world external to ourselves seems to you to spring, not -from the sensations as interpreted by the Reason, but (at all events to -a large extent) from the sensations as interpreted by the Imagination. -If you mean this, I wish you would show how the Imagination thus builds -up our knowledge of the world. But I think I must have misunderstood -you.” - -You have not misunderstood me. I would go even further than the limits -of your statement: for I believe that we are largely indebted to the -Imagination for our knowledge, not only of the external world, but also -of ourselves. However, suppose we first take a simple instance of the -knowledge of external things: “This inkstand is hard. How did I come to -know that it was hard? How do I know that it is hard now?” - -Let us begin from the beginning. I am an infant scrambling on the floor -where the said inkstand is casually lying. Having a congenital impulse -(commonly called “instinct”) to touch and suck anything that comes in my -way, and especially anything bright, I greedily and rapidly approximate -my lips to the corner of this polished object. I recoil with a sharp -shock of pain. The pain abates. The instinctive recoil from the inkstand -has left in me an instinctive aversion to the pain-causing object: but -my touching and sucking instinct again revives, and as soon as it -prevails over the recoiling instinct, I am impelled again -towards the inkstand, not so rapidly as before, but still -too rapidly. I recoil again, with pain lessened but still -acute. I am acquiring “knowledge”: I “know,” though I cannot -put it into words, that I have twice found the inkstand -not-to-be-rapidly-approached-under-penalty-of-a-certain-kind-of-pain, in -other words, “hard.” But I try again; I try four, five, six times: I -find that when I approach with less velocity my pain is less, and when -with sufficiently diminished velocity, there is no pain at all; I touch -and suck in peace: but when I forget my experience and suppose that the -inkstand—even though I dash wildly at it after my old fashion—will -“behave differently this time,” I find that I am mistaken: the inkstand -will not “behave differently”; it always behaves in the same way. By -this time then I know something very important indeed. - -But pause now, my friend, and ask yourself how much this infant has a -right to say he “knows,” so far as the evidence of the senses guides -him. All that the senses have told him is that on five, six, seven, -say even seventy, occasions, he found the inkstand hard. But is this -all that he “knows”? You know perfectly well that he knows infinitely -more: he has made a leap from the past into the future and knows that -the inkstand _will_ be found hard whenever he touches it. When he -grows up and attains the power of speech he will generally express his -knowledge in the Present Tense: “I must not strike the inkstand with -my mouth for it _is_ hard”: but in reality this “is” implies “will -be”; “I must not strike the inkstand with my mouth for I _shall find_ -it hard.” Now what is it that has produced in him this conviction -which no philosopher can justify by mere logic, but which every baby -acts on? It seems to have arisen thus. The baby has received in rapid -succession two sensations, first, that of a violent approximation to -the inkstand, secondly, a sudden shock of pain. Having received this -pair of sensations very frequently, he cannot help associating them -together in his thoughts; so that now the thought of a violent -approximation to the inkstand necessarily suggests to him the thought -that it is not-to-be-approached-violently, or “hard.” He began by -learning to expect that perhaps, or probably, the first sensation -would be followed by the second; but having found, after constant -experiments, that the second sensation, so far as his experience goes, -always follows the first, he gradually passes from belief into -certainty, or knowledge, that the second always will, or must, follow -the first. - -A similar transition is going on at the same time in the infant’s mind—I -mean the transition from belief to certainty—in regard to thousands of -other propositions besides the one we have selected, “this inkstand is -hard.” Every single case of such transition facilitates the transition -in other cases, by making the child feel that, if he is to get on in the -world and make his way through it without incurring the constant pains -and penalties of Nature, he must not disregard these juxtapositions, or -pairs of sensations, (which, when he grows older, he will, if ever he -becomes an educated man, call “cause” and “effect”), but must take them -to heart and remember them; when the first of a familiar pair comes, he -must be prepared to find the second immediately following. Not -unfrequently the child’s limited experience associates together in his -mind sensations that Nature has not associated; as, for example, when he -infers that a clock must tick because he has never yet in his life seen -a clock that has stopped. In this and other cases the child has -afterwards to dissociate what he had too hastily joined together, and to -correct his conclusions by wider experience. But, on the whole, the -transition from belief to certainty, in any one case, is facilitated by -the great majority of similar cases in which the same transition is -going on with results that are confirmed by his own experience and by -that of his elders. What helps the transition, in each case, is its -general success; it _works_: it helps the child to move more and more -confidently in the world without subjecting himself to the punishments -which Nature has attached to ignorance. - -Now therefore, reviewing the stages of the progress upwards, we see that -the knowledge of which we are speaking is based upon an inherent and -fundamental belief of which we can give no logical justification -whatever. Why should an inkstand always be hard? The child can allege no -reason for this except that, having found the inkstand to be hard in a -great number of past instances, he is compelled to believe that it will -be always hard, with such a force of conviction that he cannot but feel -and say he “knows” it. But of course there is no logical justification -for this assertion. He might argue for some months or even years, in -precisely the same way about a clock, and say that “a clock always -ticks,” because he has seen the clock tick times innumerable and never -known it not to tick. Why should not a larger experience confute his -so-called knowledge in the case of the inkstand as in the case of the -clock? As the clock collapses, why should not the nature of the inkstand -collapse—be, come unwound, so to speak, or altogether transmuted? There -is no possible answer to this question for the child, at present, except -the following:—“It never has done so, and therefore I believe that it -never will. I believe in the uniformity of Nature. The sequences of -observed cause and effect are Nature’s promises, and if she does not -keep them, life will break down. I am compelled to believe, and to act -on the belief, that life will not break down. I believe that this -inkstand is hard, because this belief _works_.” - -I conclude therefore that all knowledge of the kind we are now -describing is based on belief (viz. the belief that what has been will -be) tested by experience. I think it must also be admitted that -Imagination contributed to the result: for the child not only remembers -his two past consecutive sensations but gradually _images_ in his mind a -kind of bond between them, which memory pure and simple could not have -contributed. Memory reproduces “Inkstand and _then_ hardness;” -Imagination paints, or begins to paint, a new idea, “Inkstand and -_therefore_ hardness.” Again, Memory reproduces vaguely numerous -instances, “The inkstand was hard ten, eleven, twenty, many times;” then -comes Imagination and at a leap sets before the mind an entirely new -notion, and invents for it the word “always.” - -Concerning other and more complex kinds of knowledge what need is there -to say a word? For if such simple propositions as “a stone is hard,” are -shown to depend upon Imagination for suggesting, and Faith for -retaining, a conviction of the uniformity of Nature, much more must -these influences be presupposed if the child is to attain knowledge -about matters avowedly future, _e.g._ “the sun will rise to-morrow.” In -reality all knowledge of any practical value has to do with a future, -immediate or remote; and therefore I do not think I shall be -exaggerating in saying that for all knowledge about things outside us we -depend largely upon Imagination and Faith. - -But I pass now to consider a child’s knowledge about himself. Take for -example such a proposition as this, “I like sugar.” Is Faith or -Imagination required to enable a child to arrive at the knowledge of -this proposition about himself? I think so. The very use of the word -“I,” if used intelligently, appears to need some imaginative effort. Of -course I do not deny that this subtle metaphysical idea may have been -suggested to us originally by our faculty of touch, and especially the -faculty of self-pinching or self-touching. I dare say you have read how -men have sometimes caught hold of their own benumbed hand by night, and -awakened a household by shouting that they had caught a robber: has it -ever occurred to you that, if you never had the power of distinguishing -your own hand from anybody else’s hand by the sense of touch, you might -have gone through life with no sense, or with a very tardily acquired -sense, of your own identity? If the monkey who boiled his own tail in -the caldron had felt no pain, might he not have been excused for -doubting sometimes whether the tail belonged to him? And if his head -were equally painless or joyless when he thumped it or scratched it, -ought he to be condemned for disowning his own head? And if a monkey, or -even a child, could not lay claim to its own head, it seems to me -doubtful whether he could ever claim such a separation from the outside -world as would necessitate his using the word “I.” But, as it is, having -this self-pinching faculty, the child soon finds that to pinch a ball, -or a bladder, or a sister, is an entirely different thing from pinching -himself: and this self-touching faculty confirms the evidence suggested -by the bumps and thumps of the external world; all of which lead him to -the belief that he has a bodily frame of his own, liable to pain and to -pleasure, and largely dependent for pain and pleasure on his own -motions, which motions he dimly perceives dependent upon something that -appears to be inside himself. - -But neither this nor any other explanation of the manner in which the -sensations prepare the way for the construction of the idea of the “I,” -ought to prevent us from recognizing that the idea itself is the work of -the Imagination, and not of the unaided sensations, nor of the unaided -reason. Self-pinching and contact with the rough external world might -convince the child that he was different from his environment at the -time when he made his last experiments and underwent his last -experiences; but they could not convince him that he _is_ different -_now_, or that he _will be_ different in the next instant; and for this -conviction he depends upon faith. Again, the imagination of the “I” -seems closely bound up with two other nearly simultaneous imaginations, -those of Force and Cause. First he feels a desire to touch the inkstand, -then he feels himself moving towards the inkstand, then he feels the -inkstand touched. These sequences of desire, action, result, he can -repeat as often as he likes. By their frequency therefore, as well as by -their vividness, they impress him more powerfully than sequences of -phenomena not dependent on himself; and it is from these probably that -he first imagines the idea of “must,” or “necessity,” or “cause and -effect.” If he feels a desire to move a limb, the motion of the limb -immediately follows; it always obeys him; it _must_ obey him. He pushes -a brick; what caused the brick to fall? He feels that it was his own -force that caused it; he no longer looks upon the push and the fall as -if the former merely preceded the latter; he imagines a connection of -necessity between the push and the fall, the cause and the effect, and -gradually comes to imagine himself as the causer of the cause. But all -these imaginations are mere imaginations, not proofs. To gather together -all the sensations of which he retains the memory, the sensations of -which he is at present conscious, and the sensations to which he looks -forward, and to put an “I” behind or below all these, as the foundation -of them all, and partial causer of them all—what an audacious assumption -is this! Not Plato and Aristotle combined could prove to a child, or to -the most consummate of philosophers, that he has a right to call himself -“I,” or that he is any other than a machine and a part of the universal -machinery. How can I prove and vindicate my independence, my right to an -“I”? By saying that I will do, or not do, and by then doing, or not -doing, any conceivable thing at any conceivable time? Such an attempt is -futile. The retort is unanswerable: “In the great machine which you call -the universe, that small part which you call ‘I’ was so constructed and -wound up that it could no more help saying and doing what it did and -said, than a clock could help pointing and striking.” - -What then is the real proof that we are right in using the word “I” and -in distinguishing ourselves from other objects which we call external? -There is no proof at all except that, first, we are led to this way of -looking at things by Nature and Imagination, and secondly, this way of -looking at things _works_ best. The “I-view” is better fitted than the -“machine-view” to develop in us the faculties of judgment and -self-control, to give us a sense of responsibility and a capability of -amendment, and to make us ultimately more hopeful and more active. So -too, the belief in “cause and effect” _works_ better than a mere mental -record of past antecedents and sequences, accompanied by a blank and -strictly logical neutrality of mind as to what will happen in the -future. Faith in “cause and effect” is the foundation of all stable life -and all regular progress alike in the individual and in the state. The -unfaithful unbeliever in causality is the Esau, both in the moral and in -the intellectual world, the happy-go-lucky hunter who depends on stray -venison and refuses to resort to system in order to make a sure -provision for the needs of the future; the believer is the quiet -plodding Jacob who has his goats in the fold where he knows he can find -them when wanted. The unbeliever is the unimaginative savage who has not -faith enough to see the harvest in the seed; the believer is the man of -civilisation who can trust Nature through six long months of waiting and -can say to her, not in the language of hope, “_do ut des_,” but in the -language of conviction, “_do daturae_.” Nevertheless, convenient as -these ideas may be for our comfort, nay, though they may be even -necessary for our existence, we are bound to recollect that they are -merely ideas. Like the ideas of force, cause, effect, necessity, so the -idea of “I,”—though produced with the aid of experience and tested by -appeal to experience and reason—appears to be nothing but a child of the -Imagination, and a foster-child of Faith. - -Perhaps your conclusion from all this is that I am proving that we can -know nothing? Not in the least. What I am saying does not prove that we -know less or more than we profess to know at present. I am merely -showing that our knowledge comes to us from sources other than those -which are ordinarily assumed. - - - - - IV - IDEALS - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You ask me to pass to the consideration of knowledge of a new kind, -knowledge of mathematical truth. “Here at least,” you say, “severe -reasoning dominates supreme, and Imagination has no place.” “Two and one -make three,” “The angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are -equal:” “surely we may assume that Imagination has nothing to do with -these propositions. They must be decided by pure Reason.” Never was -assumption more grotesque. Excuse me; but by what other adjective can I -characterize the statement that the Imagination has “nothing to do with” -propositions for the very terms of which we are indebted to the -Imagination? I maintain without fear of contradiction that the knowledge -of these propositions requires an effort of the Imagination so severe -that the very young and the completely untrained cannot attain to it. - -For, in the first place, what do you mean by “one,” “two,” and “three”? -I have never had any experience of such things; nor have you; nor can -you. “Two” oranges, “two” apples, and the like, we have had experience -of, and can realize; but to think of “one” or “two” by themselves (“one” -or “two” with “anythings”, or with “nothings” after them), “one” or -“two” as “abstract ideas”—this really is a most difficult or rather (I -am inclined to say) an impossible task. When I say “one” and “two,” I -think I see before me dimly “one” or “two” dots or small strokes, and I -perceive that two and one of these dots or strokes make up three dots or -strokes. When I speak of “twenty” and “thirty,” I do not see any images -of these existences; and when I say that “twenty” and “thirty” make -“fifty,” I do not realize the process of addition at all visibly; I -merely repeat the statement on the authority of previous observations -and reasonings mostly made by others and not by myself. But so far as I -approximate to the realization of an abstract number, I do it by a kind -of negative imagination. And in any case we can hardly deny that all -arithmetical propositions, since they employ terms that denote mere -imaginary ideas, must be regarded as based on the imagination. - -It is the same with Geometry. The whole of what we call “Euclid” is -based upon a most aerial effort of the Imagination. We have to imagine -lines without thickness, straightness that does not deviate the -billionth part of an inch from perfect evenness, perfectly symmetrical -circles, and—climax of audacity!—points that have “no parts and no -magnitude!” Obviously these things have no existence except in the -dreams of Imagination; yet Euclid’s severe reasoning applies to none but -these things. If you step from your ideal triangle in Dreamland into -your material triangle in chalk-land, you step from absolute truth into -statements that are not absolutely true. The angles at the base of your -chalk isosceles triangle are not exactly equal, if you measure them with -sufficient accuracy. In a word the whole of Geometry is an appeal to the -Imagination in which the geometer says to us, “I know that my -propositions are not exactly true except with respect to invisible, -ideal, and imaginary figures, planes, and solids. These ideas, -therefore, you must endeavour to imagine. In order to relieve the strain -on your imagination, I will place before you material and visible -figures about which my reasoning will be approximately true. From these -I must ask you to try to rise upward to the imagination of their -archetypes, the immaterial realities.” - -What shall we reply to our overbearing mathematician who in this abrupt -and audacious manner introduces the non-existent and imaginary creatures -of his brain as being “realities”? Shall we deride him, and the -arithmetician likewise? Shall we bid the latter exchange his -calculations in abstract numbers for manifestly useful sums about sacks -of wheat and casks of beer? Shall we bid the mathematician descend from -his high geometrical theories to the practical measurements of -agriculture? Pouring scorn on his avowal that the objects of his -reasoning are “invisible, ideal, and imaginary,” shall we decline to -study a science that is confessedly—so we can word it—visionary and -illusive? If we do, he will not be without a reply, somewhat after this -fashion: “My practical friends, it will be the worse for you if you -despise these invisible, ideal and imaginary objects. I say nothing -about the mental training and development to be derived from the study -of these things; for to this argument you do not appear to me to be at -present accessible: but I will take your own line—the practical. Do you -then want to measure your fields with ease and to make accurate maps and -charts; to construct houses that shall stand longer, ships that shall -sail faster, cannon that shall shoot further, engines that shall pull -harder, than any known before; do you want to utilize electricity for -lighting, gas for motion, water for pressure; in a word do you wish to -make yourselves lords over the material world and to have all the forces -of Nature at your beck and call? If you do, you must not despise the -non-existent numbers of my arithmetical brother, nor my immaterial and -imaginary lines. Give me leave to repeat, in spite of your indignation, -that though they are (in this present visible world of ours) -non-existent, yet these lines and numbers are ‘realities.’ That they are -realities, and that our conclusions about them are real and true, is -proved by the one test of truth: our conclusions _work_. Our discoveries -are in harmony with the universe. A perfect circle you never saw and -never will see: yet it is as real as a beefsteak and a pint of porter. I -believe in a perfect circle by Faith; I accept it with reverence as an -impression, if I may so dare to speak, on the Mind of the Universe, -which He has communicated to me. What is more, I believe that He -intended us to study this and other immaterial realities that our minds -might approximate to His. Take a cone, my practical friends. What do you -see in it? Nothing, I fear, except a shape that reminds you of an -extinguisher or a fool’s cap. Yet this little solid contains within -itself the suggestions of all the mysteries of motion in heaven and -earth. Slice your cone parallel to the base: there you have the perfect -circle. Slice it again, parallel to one of the sides: there you have the -parabola, the curve of terrestrial motion. Slice it once more, midway -between these two sections: there you have the ellipse, the curve of -celestial motion for which all the astronomers were seeking in vain -through something like a score of centuries. Seriously now, my -half-educated friends, in spite of the sense you may for the most part -entertain of your own importance, do you not in your more modest moods -sometimes feel inclined to say that, ‘A circle is, after all, a reality, -perhaps more real than I am myself’?” - -What do you think of all this? For my part, I am inclined to think the -Mathematician has the best of it. A good deal will turn upon the meaning -of that dangerous word “reality,” about which I will give you my -notions, perhaps, hereafter.[2] But even if you dispute his assertions -about the reality of his “ideas,” you cannot, I am sure, deny the -immense practical importance, as well as the universal acceptance, of -his conclusions and discoveries; and you will do well to remember that -this immensely important, this undisputed and indisputable knowledge, -could never have been attained if we had not called in the Imagination -to create for us ideas that never will be, and never can be, realised in -this present material world. - -Let us pass now from knowledge about things to knowledge about persons, -_i.e._ about actions and motives. - -Our knowledge about actions depends on (1) personal observation; (2) -testimony; (3) circumstantial evidence or any combination of these -three. - -The knowledge that we derive of actions from our own observation is of -course independent of Faith, so far as concerns the past; but it is very -limited, and entirely useless and unpractical, except as a basis for -knowledge about the present and future; for which knowledge (as we have -seen) Faith in the permanence of Nature is absolutely necessary. - -The knowledge of actions that comes to us from evidence, direct and -circumstantial, is largely dependent on Faith. “Julius Cæsar invaded -Britain”—how certain we all feel of that! Yet how slight the testimony! -Simply a few pages of narrative, written by the supposed invader -himself, and some casual remarks by one or two contemporary -letter-writers about Cæsar’s doings in Britain and the Senate’s -reception of the news. Why should we believe on so apparently flimsy a -basis? Why should not Cæsar have sent one of his lieutenants to invade -the island, and afterwards have taken the credit of it himself? Or there -might have been no invasion at all, nothing but a reconnaissance grossly -exaggerated and intermixed with facts derived from travellers. Yet we -believe in the invasion without the slightest hesitation. Cæsar, we say, -would not have told the lie; or, if he had, it would have been quickly -exposed by his enemies. In other words, we believe in the truth of the -narrative, because a belief in its falsehood does not “work,” that is to -say, does not suit with what we know (or, more properly, with what -others know) of Cæsar’s character and Cæsar’s times. Of precisely the -same kind is almost all our knowledge about history: it is based upon -evidence, but it is belief; and the only test of its truth is, does it -“work,” _i.e._ does it fit in with other knowledge which we regard as -established truth? - -But you see that, even in dealing with a simple action of Cæsar’s, we -have already drifted into a reference to Cæsar’s motives: and obviously -knowledge about “motives” is an important and indeed a paramount element -in knowledge about persons. “My father,” says the child, “has his brows -knit; his face looks dark; he speaks very loud; his eyes look brighter -than usual:”—this is knowledge about actions derived from personal -observation, but, so far, perfectly useless, until something is added to -it. “Whenever my father has looked and spoken like this before, he has -been angry and has punished somebody: therefore he is angry and will -punish somebody now”—this is not knowledge, it is only belief; but it is -belief not about actions simply, but about motives as well as actions, -and it may be of the greatest use. - -How do we gain knowledge about motives, the moving powers of the human -machine? Since we cannot take this machinery to pieces, or experiment -with it freely, we must derive our knowledge largely from the -consciousness of our own motives. Tickling produces laughter in us, and -pricking, a cry; affection, and the command of those whom we love, -produce in us obedience; desire of a result or reward produces effort; -fear of pain or penalty produces avoidance of certain actions, -performance of others. Hence we infer that, in others also, similar -effects have been produced, or will be produced, by similar causes. In -either case, our inference is based partly upon our observation that -these causes have preceded these effects in other persons, and partly -upon our _faith_ that other people’s machinery is like our own. - -But we have not yet touched one of the most powerful of motives, that -power within us which we call Conscience (“joint-knowledge”); as though -there were in us an Assessor sitting in judgment by the side of the -mysterious “I,” the two together pronouncing sentence of “Right” or -“Wrong” upon the several propositions and intentions which are, as it -were, called up before their tribunal. The development of Conscience and -our sensibility to its dictation appears to me largely due to the -Imagination. If a philosopher tells me that when Conscience appears to -us to say “Right” it really says “Expedient for society and ultimately -for yourself,” or “Calculated to gain esteem for yourself,” or -“Conducive to your own peace of mind,” I am obliged, with all deference -to him, but with greater deference to truth, to assure him that (however -correct he may be as to the origin of this feeling in my own infant mind -or in the matured mind of my primæval ancestors) he is mistaken, at all -events in my own case, as to the action of Conscience now. I may -possibly have been long ago guided to my idea of “Right” by my -observation of what is expedient: but, to me, now, the sense of “right” -is as different from the sense of “expedient,” as the eye is different -from some sensitive protuberance which may ultimately be developed into -an eye, but is at present responsive only to the touch. - -How then do we gain this knowledge of right and wrong? For of course it -is not enough to reply that we gain it by the voice of Conscience: such -an answer only makes us repeat our question in a different shape: “In -the very young, Conscience, though it may be existent, is certainly -latent; when and whence does it begin to work?” I should reply that the -first idea of good and evil is communicated to the very young through -the habit of obedience to their parents or those who stand to them in -the parental position. A child is so created as to be in constant -dependence on the favour and good-will of his mother. When he is -obedient to her he finds himself at peace and happy, and he welcomes on -her face that sunshine which indicates that she is pleased with him. -When he is disobedient, harsh sounds follow, a lowering darkness on the -countenance close to his, obstacles to his freedom, restrictions of his -pleasures, perhaps sharper pains or penalties: and he is now out of -harmony with his little Universe. All this strange and subtle evil -inside him and outside him he has brought on himself by disobeying the -maternal will; and hence there gradually springs up in his mind an -Imagination of some unnameable thing, which is his first idea of right. -But as he grows older and widens his sphere of observation he finds—if -he is placed in anything like those favourable circumstances which -Nature has appointed for most of us—that this parental will is in -harmony with the widening world around him. The parents say, “Do not -play with fire;” Nature says the same, and punishes him if he -transgresses. The parents say, “Do not touch that knife;” again Nature -confirms their authority by inflicting a penalty on disobedience. Thus, -if the parents have anything of parental forethought, the child -gradually associates them with the governing powers of his growing -Universe, and begins to feel that the parental will is also the will, or -order, of Nature. They are as God to him: and the confirmed habit of -obedience to them deepens in his heart the conviction—but still a -conviction rather springing from Imagination than from Reason—that the -power which thus induces him to obey is a great and grand Power, -orderly, not to be resisted; wise and justified by results, but to be -obeyed without thinking about results; it _ought_ to be obeyed; it is -_Right_. - -Now he steps out into the world of other human beings; and here he -learns to widen his idea of Right. Perhaps he also learns to alter it. -If he was born and reared among thieves, his conscience may have been -altogether perverted so that he actually thought it honourable to steal. -But in any case, even though he may come from the best of homes, he -often learns that the parental will is not always in harmony with the -highest and best will; and gradually he forms a different standard of -“Right” from that which he held before. It was once the will of his -parents, now it is often the will of Society. Conforming himself to the -will of Society he is free from pains and penalties; he is at peace with -those around him, and he is generally at peace with himself. I say -generally, not always: for by this time he has begun to think for -himself and to see that Conscience ought to speak in the interests not -merely of his parents, nor of a select circle of his own friends or -companions, but of all mankind. His Imagination pictures for him an -ideal Order such as he has never actually experienced. He feels that he -“ought” to be at peace and in harmony with this imaginary Order, and not -with some distorted and narrowed conception of it conveyed to him by his -“set,” his class, his city, his nation, or his church. In his -conscience, he hears the voice of this Moral Order of humanity. Hence it -is that men have been sometimes impelled to thoughts beyond, or even -against, the conscience of their contemporaries; to protest, for -example, against unjust wars, against war of any kind, against slavery, -against duelling, against legalized oppression. In every case the -impelling power has been the same, a sense of discord between the man’s -imaginary ideal and the actual environment in which these evils and -disorders have existed. Others, his commonplace companions, have been -content to go with the world around them—to be kind slave-holders, -honourable duellists, moderate oppressors—and they have felt no pangs of -conscience. But by a few, a chosen few, there has been acquired a keener -sense of the ideal of moral harmony, a keener eye for detecting moral -disorder, and an abhorrence of it which will not permit them to live in -peace amid such evils: they must either die or mend them. - -They often do die in mending them; but while in the process of dying, or -preparing for death—with all deference to the clergyman who lately -maintained that “if there is no hereafter, and if the only reward of -self-sacrifice and the only punishment of crime are those which happen -in the present life, _it would have been far better to have been Fouché -than Paul_”—they have at least a peace of mind which they could not have -attained by conformity with the world. The grosser conscience that -“worked” well enough in their companions would not have “worked” in -them. Even, therefore, though they appear to be exceptions to the rule -that tests truth by its “working,” they are not really exceptional. They -have been in discord with the world but in concord with themselves. -Often they prove to others the truth of their conceptions by raising up -the world to their level, and by pointing to the moral order which has -issued from the fulfilment of their ideas. But in any case, though they -may fail for a time or (apparently) for all time, they have had in -themselves a sufficient test of the truth of their ideas: they have -followed their conscience and they have found that this course -“worked”—that is to say, suited and developed their nature—as no other -course could have worked for them. But in order thus to hear and obey -the voice of conscience and to discern its highest truths, how much of -faith, how much of imagination has been needed! - -But this digression about Conscience has led me a little astray from my -subject, which was “the knowledge of persons:” I must return to it in my -next letter. - -Footnote 2: - - See the _Definitions_ at the end of the book. - - - - - V - IDEALS AND TESTS - - -MY DEAR ——, - -Let us now return to the consideration of the “knowledge of persons.” -How do we gain knowledge of a human being, that is to say of his -motives? “By observing his actions in many different circumstances, -especially in extremities of joy, sorrow, fear, temptation, and then by -comparing his actions with what we, or others, have done in the same -circumstances?” But this is a very difficult and delicate business, -especially that part of it which involves comparison. Here we may easily -go wrong; and we therefore naturally ask what test have we that our -knowledge is correct. One test of any useful knowledge of a machine -would be, not our power to discourse fluently about it, but our power to -“work” it, _i.e._ to make it perform the work for which it is intended: -and similarly one test of useful knowledge of a human being must be our -power to “work” him, _i.e._ to make him perform the work for which he is -intended. A perfectly selfish man of the world may have considerable -knowledge of men and “work” them cleverly in a certain sense: he is not -cheated by them; he is perhaps obeyed by some, not thwarted by others; -he knows the weak points of all, jostles down one, persuades another to -lift him up, gets something out of every one, and is, in a word, largely -successful in making men help him to do _what he intends_. But this is a -very poor kind of “working,” as compared with that which has been -practised by the lawgivers, poets, philosophers, and founders of -religion; who have moulded and fashioned great masses of men so as to be -better able than they were before to do the noblest works that men can -do, the works for _which they are intended_. Now I think it will not be -denied that the men who, in this sense, have “worked” mankind have had -great ideas of what men could do and ought to do. Sometimes they have -had ideas so high that they have seemed impossible of attainment and -almost absurd, even as ideas. Yet these are the men, these idealizers of -humanity, who have most helped mankind on the path of progress. And this -would lead us to the conclusion that the men who have “worked” mankind -best have been those who have refused to accept men as they are. -Constrained by the Imagination, they have kept before their eyes an -Ideal of humanity, towards which they have aspired and laboured with -sanguine enthusiasm. - -To the same effect tends our observation of mankind in smaller groups, -and especially in that smallest of groups called the family. It is -generally the parents who have most influence over their child, most -power to “work” him; and we can often see that the reason of their -influence does not arise from the power to reward or punish, but from -their affection for him, and from their faith in him. Especially do we -perceive this in the familiar but mysterious process called forgiving. -We see parents, yes even wise parents, constantly placing faith in a -child beyond what seems to a dispassionate observer to be warranted by -facts, treating him as though he were better than he has shewn himself -to be, better than he appears to us likely ever to become. And, strange -to say, this imaginative system has on the whole proved more successful -than the impartial and dispassionate disposition which would take a -human being exactly for what he is, and treat him as being that and no -more. I do not mean to say that there have not been blind and fond -parents in abundance who—having no high moral standard and being merely -desirous to see comfort and bright faces around them—have done their -children harm by ignoring their faults and regarding them as perfect: -but on the other hand, I call on you to admit the paradox that just, -wise, and righteous parents, who have had a high moral standard, have -been most successful in enabling their child to rise to that standard, -by treating him as though he were better than he really has been. -Further, I say that this system has been pursued by all those who have -forgiven others, and by Him above all others who has done most to make -forgiveness “current coin” among mankind. - -I can understand a man of cold-blooded and dispassionate temperament -objecting to any such idealization of humanity. “The whole theory,” he -might say, “is radically unfair and unreasonable. You argue that you -ought to love a man and ignore his faults if you wish to know him and -move him. You might just as well argue that you ought to hate a man and -ignore his virtues for the same purpose. Hate is as keen-eyed as love. -Hate spies out the least defects, anticipates each false step, predicts -each hasty word, and caricatures beforehand each hasty gesture. Hate -makes a study of its objects: hate, therefore, as well as love, might be -said to stimulate us to know others. But the right course is neither to -hate, nor to love, but to judge. As hate blinds us to virtues, so love -blinds us to vices. We ought to be blind to nothing, to extenuate -nothing, to ignore nothing, but to be purely and reasonably critical. -Thus we shall know humanity as it is.” - -The answer to this very plausible theory is extremely simple: “Your -theory appears to be just and wise upon a cursory and unscientific view -of human nature: but it has not endured the scientific test of -experiment; it has not _worked_. I believe the reason why it does not -work is, that it ignores some faintly discernible but growing tendencies -in human nature which are not to be discerned without more sympathy than -you appear to possess: no human being can be understood in the daylight -of Reason alone; affection and Imagination are needed to transport us as -it were into the heart of a fellow-creature, to enable us to realize him -as we realize ourselves, and to treat him as we would ourselves be -treated; faith also in the possibilities of humanity is a very powerful -help not only towards discerning the best and noblest that men can do, -but also towards developing their power of doing it. But in any case, -whatever may be the reasons for its failure, your theory does not -‘work,’ and must therefore be given up. - -“By ‘failure,’ I do not mean that your theory will prevent you from -getting on and making your way in the world, but that it will prevent -you from operating on yourself and on mankind, so that you and they may -do the work which you are intended to do. You say the business of a -student of men is to be critical. I say that such a student is a mere -pedant, a book-philosopher: but the scientific student of men is he who -knows how to ‘work’ them: and those who have in the true sense of the -term ‘worked’ men, have not been of the critical temperament which you -eulogize, but often quite uncritical, wondrously uncritical, but full of -a fervent faith in a high ideal of humanity, and in a destiny that would -ultimately conform humanity to its ideal. If you aim at exerting no -social ennobling influence of this kind, if you are content, while -leading the life of a man of the world, to abide, spiritually speaking, -in the cave of a recluse, then keep on your present course. Criticize -men dispassionately to your heart’s content. Try to persuade yourself -that you know them. But you will never succeed—you will never persuade -even yourself that you have succeeded—in making a single human being the -better for your influence. - -“In morals as in mathematics nothing can be done without faith in the -Ideal. If you want to operate scientifically upon imperfect men you must -keep constantly before your mind the image of the Perfect Man. We have -seen that, before we can attain to ‘applied mathematics,’ which -constitute the basis of those sciences by which we dominate the material -world, we have to begin with ‘pure mathematics.’ In that region of study -we have to idealize and speak of things, not as they are in our -experience, but as they might be if certain tendencies that we see -around us could be infinitely—yes, and we must add, impossibly—extended. -Yet in the end, if we go patiently onward, we find that our ‘pure -mathematics’ lead us to conclusions of immense practical importance. - -“It is precisely the same in the science of humanity, which we may call -anthropology. In order to prepare the way for ‘applied anthropology’ -whereby we may dominate the immaterial world, the minds and tempers of -men, we must begin with ‘pure anthropology’; that is to say, we must -idealize and speak of man not as he is but as he would be if certain -tendencies which we see in him, conducive to social order and individual -development, could be infinitely—yes, and we must add, if we limit our -horizon to this present life, impossibly—extended. In the end, if we go -patiently onward, we shall find that ‘pure anthropology’ will be of -immense practical importance in helping us to control and develop -ourselves and individuals around us and all communities of men. This -‘pure anthropology,’ having to do with the Ideal of humanity, is -necessarily associated or identified with the conception of God; and -some would call it ‘theology’ or ‘Christianity.’ But that is a mere -matter of names. Call it by whatever name you please, but study it you -must. You will never ‘work’ mankind—that is to say you will never make -men do the work for which they are intended—till you have studied the -Ideal Man.” - -You may reply, and with some justice, that there is a danger in this -repeated appeal to the test of “working.” “What,” you may ask, “about -the Buddhist and the Mohammedan, the one with his peaceful missions, the -other with his victorious sword? Cannot both make the same appeal? In -advocating the invariable appeal to ‘working,’ do we not come -dangerously near urging the acceptance of any doctrine that will afford -good leverage to moral effort, regardless of its truth or falsehood? -Ought not, after all, the harmony of the doctrine with Reason (in the -highest sense—not only syllogistic, but intuitive, imaginative, or -whatever you choose to call it) to be the ultimate criterion?” - -I suppose there is a “danger” in every means of attaining truth, a -danger in observation, a danger in experiment, a danger in inductive, a -danger in deductive, reasoning: but it does not follow that any of these -means are to be discarded, only that they are to be carefully used. If -the Buddhist can appeal to the successes of centuries, that proves, I -should say, that there is some element of genuine truth in his religion; -if the Mohammedan points to conversions, in India and elsewhere, far -more rapid than those made by Christianity and not dependent on “the -victorious sword,” that also proves that in some important respects for -example in the practical recognition of the equality of all believers -without respect to rank or race—Mohammedans have been far more faithful -to their teacher than we have been to ours. And generally, any religion -that succeeds in making men better with it than they were without it, -must be admitted (I think) to contain (so far as it succeeds) some -element of divine revelation. And therefore, while admitting the appeal -to Reason, I cannot reject the appeal to Experience as well. Do not -think that, in laying so much stress on “working,” I ignore the -difference between the propositions of Natural Science and those of -Religion, or forget how much more ready and convincing verification is -in the former than in the latter. The means of verifying may differ in -different ages: why not? In the earliest period of Christianity, men -had, as a test, the contrast between the heathen and the Christian life; -the burning zeal of the freshly imparted Spirit of Christ; and the -“mighty works” wrought by the Apostles and perhaps by some of their -successors. Now, for us in Christendom, the proof from “contrast” is -less obvious, and we have lost also something of the fresh and fiery -zeal—must we not add the occasionally misguided zeal?—of the first -Christians: but by way of compensation, we have, besides our individual -experiences, the collective evidence of many generations shewing what -Christ’s Spirit can do to help us when we obey it, to chasten us when we -disobey. Are we wrong then in inferring that one test of religions is -the same which our Lord appointed for testing men: “By their fruits ye -shall know them”? - -There is undoubtedly a great difference between proof in Science and -proof in matters of Religion: and Religion depends, far more than -Science, upon Imagination. But I have not ignored this difference. On -the contrary, I have attempted to show that, since Religion depends _far -more_ than Science upon Imagination; and since Science itself depends -_largely_ upon Imagination; therefore Religion must depend _very -largely_ upon Imagination, and especially upon that form of Imagination -to which we give the name of Faith. - - - - - VI - IMAGINATION AND REASON - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You suspect that I am “pushing the claims of the Imagination so far as -to deprive the Reason or Understanding[3] of its rights;” and you ask me -whether I dispute the universal belief that the former is an “illusive -faculty.” As for your suspicion, I will endeavour to show that it is -groundless. As for your question, I admit that the Imagination is -“illusive,” but I must add that it also leads us to truth. It constructs -the hypotheses, as well as the illusions, which, when tested by -experience, guide us towards Knowledge. - -Imagination is the “imaging” faculty of the mind. It does not, strictly -speaking, create, any more than an artist, strictly speaking, creates. -But as an artist combines lines, colours, shades, sounds, and thoughts, -each one of which by itself is familiar to everybody, in such new -combinations as to produce effects that impress us all as original and -unprecedented, so does the Imagination out of old fragments make new -existences and unities. - -Attention impresses upon us the present; Memory recalls the past; but -the Imagination is never content simply to reproduce the past or -present. It sums up the past of Memory (sometimes perhaps also the -present of Attention) and combines it with a conjectured future in such -a way as to produce a whole. It is always seeking for likenesses, -orderly connections, regular sequences, beautiful relations, suggestions -of unity in some shape or other, so as to reduce many things into one -and to obtain a satisfying picture. - -For example, suppose a large mill-wheel at rest to be almost hidden from -my eyes by intervening trees so that, even if it were moving, I could -only see one spoke at a time; and at present I am not aware that it is -close before me. Something begins to move. I look up. Attention tells me -that I see before me, moving from left to right, something like a plank -or pole: it passes and I see nothing; but then comes another similar -object moving similarly; then a third, rather quicker; then a fourth, -quicker still. The mind at once sets to work to find the cause. The -Memory tells me that I have seen simply a number of poles or planks -moving from left to right with quickened motion; the Attention tells me -that I see one now; but the Imagination, taking in the isolated reports -of Memory and Attention, includes them in a larger hypothesis of her -own, in which, if I may so express it, the constituent elements, the -spokes, are subordinated, and the explanatory unity, the wheel, is -brought into prominence; and thus the motion from left to right, which -explained nothing, is replaced, in my mind, by the motion of revolution, -which explains everything. - -It is on the basis of the Imagination, aided by Experience and Reason, -that we establish our conviction of the permanence of the simplest Laws -of Nature. This I have touched on in one of my previous letters. The -Memory, recalling the sight of many stones falling to the ground, comes -perhaps to the aid of Attention, as a child notes a particular stone -falling to the ground, and suggests to the child’s imitative nature an -experimental attempt to make a stone fall to the ground. The child does -it once and again, as often as he likes. Then, as a result of this -unvarying experience, there springs up in the child’s mind a picture in -which he sees reproduced an apparently endless vista of his sensations -as to stone-falling and its antecedents, a picture not confined, like -the pictures of Memory, to past time, but including future as well as -past and present; and thus the childish thought leaps upwards all at -once to the conception of that sublime word “always,” and dares to -promulgate its first universal proposition, and attains to the definite -certainty of a Law of Nature. - -But you say that the Imagination is “illusive.” It is; it rarely -conducts us to truth without first leading us through error. Its -business is to find likenesses and connections and to suggest -explanations, not to point out differences, and make distinctions, and -test explanations; these latter tasks are to be accomplished not by -Imagination but by Reason with the aid of enlarged experience. The -Imagination suggests to the child that every man is like his father, -every woman like his mother; that the motion of the sea is like the -motion of water in the washing basin; that the thunder is caused by the -rolling of barrels or discharge of coals up above; that a clock goes on -of itself for ever; and a multitude of other illusions all arising from -the same healthy imaginative conviction in every young mind that “What -has been will be,” and “The whole world is according to one pattern.” -The conviction is based on a profound general truth, but the particular -shapes which it assumes are often erroneous. It is only after a course, -and sometimes a very long course, of experience and experiment, that the -child, or perhaps the man, eliminates with the aid of Reason those ideas -which will not work, and confirms those that will work, till the latter -become at last strong and inherent and quasi-instinctive convictions. -None the less, if the Imagination did not first suggest the ideas on -which the Reason is to operate, we should never obtain anything worth -calling knowledge. - -We might express all this by saying that Imagination is the mother of -working-hypotheses; and this is true of all working-hypotheses, those of -the observatory and laboratory as well as those of the nursery. No one -who grasps this truth will henceforth deny the debt of science to -Imagination. Knowledge is not worth calling knowledge till it is reduced -to Law; and Law, as I have shown you above, is a mere idea of the -Imagination. I do not deny the subsequent value of Reason; but -Imagination must come first. It was from the Imagination that there -first flashed upon the mind of Newton the vision of the -working-hypothesis by which the apple’s fall and the planet’s path might -be simultaneously explained. Then came in Reason, with experiment, -testing, comparing, prepared to detect discrepancies, unlikelihoods, and -any want of harmony between the new theory and the old order of things. -Finally, the once-no-more-than-working-hypothesis, having been found to -harmonize with countless past and present phenomena and having enabled -us to predict countless future phenomena, is now called a Law, and we -are practically certain that it will act. The approval of this Law we -owe to Reason, but for the suggestion of it we are indebted to -Imagination. On the debt owed to Imagination by Mathematics—the -foundation of all science—I will not add anything to what has been said -in a recent letter. - -Next as to the work of Imagination in art. Poets and artists, as well as -astronomers, must be, so to speak, _ex analogia Universi_; that is to -say, they must be in harmony with that order of things which they long -to reveal to their fellow-men; they must see Law and Unity where others -fail to see it; they must have inherited or received capacities and -intuitions which give them an intense sympathy with the deep-down-hidden -rhythms and abysmal motions which regulate atoms and sounds and hues and -shapes, and the thoughts and feelings of men. An artist who wishes to -paint a hill-side, or a wave, or a face, must have a vision of it. He -must see it not only exactly as it is, but how it is: he sympathizes, as -it were, with every cleft and runlet and hollow and projection of the -hill, with every turn and fold and shade and hue of the ever-varying -wave: he realizes the secret of Nature’s working. Shall we make a -distinction between the secret in the one case and the other? Shall we -say the “spirit” of the face, but the “law” of the hill and the “law” of -the wave? Or will not the intuition into this complex combination of -multitudinous forces, apparently free and conflicting yet all guided and -controlled into one harmonious result, be better expressed by saying -that he enters into the “spirit” in all cases, the “spirit” of the hill, -the wave, and the face? In proportion as he has this power, a great -artist will be less likely to speak about it, and less able to explain -it: but have it he must; and it is a power really not dissimilar, though -apparently most different, from the scientific Imagination. It is, in -both cases, a power of recognizing Order and Unity. The test also of the -artistic, is (roughly speaking) the same as that of the scientific -Imagination. Those ideas are right which “work.” Does a scientific idea -open, like a key, the secrets of Nature? Then it “works,” and is, so -far, right. So in art: to imagine rightly is to imagine powerfully so as -to sway the minds of men. Those artistic imaginations are wrong which -fail to fit the wards of the complicated human lock and to stir the -inmost thoughts. There are obvious objections to this definition of what -is artistically right; what stirs the Athenian may not stir the -Esquimaux. But, roughly speaking, we may say that the test has held -good. What has stirred the Athenian has stirred the great civilising -races of the world. There may be a better and a higher test hereafter; -but, for the present at all events, prolonged experience of its -“working” is the test of artistic Imagination. - -But the Imagination plays, perhaps, its most important part in our -conceptions of human emotions and human character. These things cannot -be exactly defined, like triangles or circles; nor can they or their -results be predicted like the results of chemical action or the -instinctive motions of irrational animals. Yet the Imagination helps us, -after a sympathetic contemplation of what a friend _has_ done and said -and wished, to complete the picture by taking as it were a bird’s-eye -view of his past, present and future, so as to be able in some measure -to realize and predict what he _will_ do and say and wish. This mental -“imagination,” “image,” or “idea” of our friend we might describe as the -“law” of his being, so far as it was grasped by us: but so much more -subtle and variable than any known “law” are the sequences of human -thought and conduct, that we generally prefer the phrase which we just -now used to describe the intuition of the artist; and so we speak of -“entering into the spirit” of a man. It is usual to say that we do this -by “sympathy;” but sympathy is only one form of Imagination tinged with -love, the power of imagining the joys and sorrows of others and of -realizing them as one’s own. Imagination, without love, might realize -the sorrows of an enemy to gloat over them: love, if it could be without -Imagination—which it cannot be, since love implies at least some -imagination of what the beloved would wish—would be a poor lifeless -sentiment doing nothing, or nothing to the purpose. But imaginative -love, or sympathy, gives us the key to the knowledge of all human -nature, and is the foundation of all domestic and social unity and -order. - -As to the test of Imagination when brought to bear upon human nature, -you will remember, I dare say, that it was determined to be the success -with which it “worked” human nature, or, in other words, made men do -“what they are intended to do.” But I was then speaking of the way in -which the great prophets, lawgivers, and founders of religions have -influenced great masses of mankind, and in which almost every mother -influences her children, by idealizing them. I might have added, and I -will now add, a word on the manner in which an imaginary ideal of human -nature proves its truth experimentally to the imaginer, by “working” -_him_, that is, by making _him_ capable of doing “the work he was -intended to do.” It is the more necessary to do this because the -illusions of Imagination are nowhere so strong and so lasting as in the -study of human Nature; and there is a danger that we may be deterred by -the thought of them from steadily pursuing the truth. The cynic tells us -with a sneer that babies, and none but babies, think men and women -better than they are, and that, the older one grows, the more one is -disillusionised about the virtue of human nature. But that is not true, -or only a half truth. If we, as children, imagine the men and women -about us to be perfections of power, wisdom, and virtue, one reason is, -that we have, as children, a most inadequate standard of physical, -mental, and moral excellence. As our standard rises, our sense of -inadequacy increases; but the reason why, as we grow older, we cease to -think people perfect, is, very often, not that we think worse of human -beings, but that we think better of human possibilities. - -But in some minds defect of Imagination combines with other causes to -induce the repeatedly disillusionised man to give up the search after -the truth that lies beneath the illusion and to cast away all trust, all -thought, of any ideal of humanity. Those who do this make shipwreck of -their own lives. Their low ideal or no-ideal of conduct does not “work;” -that is to say, it does not fit them to do the work they were intended -to do. Even for the purposes of their own happiness their life is a -failure. So far as the spiritual side of their nature is concerned, a -dull and stagnant self-satisfaction is the highest prize they can hope -to acquire: they have none of the keen joys of spiritual aspiration, of -failures redeemed, of gradual progress, and of deeper insight into the -glorious possibilities of human nature. But those who, while not -rejecting the sobering admonitions of Experience and Reason, can -nevertheless so far obey the promptings of Imagination as to retain in -their hearts an ever fresh and expansive and healthful Ideal of life, -find themselves led on by it from hope to nobler hope, from effort to -more arduous effort, until life and effort end together. - -Let this suffice as my protest against the popular fallacy that the -Imagination is an abnormal faculty, limited to poets and painters and -“artists,” mostly illusive, and always to be subordinated in the search -after truth. I maintain, on the contrary, that it lies at the basis of -all knowledge; that it is no less necessary for science, for morals, and -for religion, than for artistic success; and that the illusions of -Imagination are the stepping-stones to Truths. - -Now to speak of Reason, or, as some would call it, Understanding. While -dealing with Imagination, we recognized that the work of Reason is -mostly negative and corrective: but let us come to detail. Reason is -commonly said to proceed by two methods; (i) by Induction, wherein, by -“inducing,” or introducing, a number of particular instances (_e.g._ “A, -B, C, &c., are men and are mortal”), you establish a general conclusion -(“all men are mortal”); (ii) by Deduction, wherein, from two previous -statements called Premises, you deduce a third, called a Conclusion. - -(i) As regards Induction, surely you must admit that the initial part of -the task falls not upon the Reason but upon the Imagination; which sees -likenesses and leaps to general conclusions, mostly premature or false, -but all containing a truth from which the falsehood must be eliminated. -Thus, a child imagines, by premature Induction, that all men are (1) -like his father; (2) black haired; (3) between five and six feet high; -(4) white-skinned, and so on. Then comes Reason afterwards, comparing -and contrasting these imaginative premature conclusions with a wider and -contradictory experience and widening the conclusion accordingly. Hence -it is the part of Reason to suggest those varied experiments which are a -necessary part of scientific Induction; and this is generally done by -pointing out to us some neglected difference: “You say you had a Turkish -bath three times, and each time caught a cold: but were the antecedents -of these three colds quite alike? If not, how did they differ? Did you -not on the first occasion sit in a draught at a public meeting? on the -second, forget to put on your great coat? on the third, let the fire out -though it was freezing? Consider therefore, not the single point of -likeness, the Turkish bath, but the points of _unlikeness_ also, in the -antecedents of your three colds; and try the Turkish bath again, -omitting these antecedents, before you say ‘A Turkish bath always gives -me cold.’” - -You see then that in Induction the positive and suggestive part of the -work is done by the Imagination; the negative and eliminative part by -Reason. - -(ii) As regards Deduction, the business of Reason is to ascertain that -the Premises are not only true but also connected in such a way that a -conclusion can be drawn from them. But even here Imagination plays a -part: for the conclusion of every syllogism (roughly speaking) depends -upon the following axiom: “If _a_ is included in _b_, and _b_ is -included in _c_, then _a_ is included in _c_; in other words, if a watch -is in a box, and the box is in a room, then the watch is in the room.” -Now this general proposition, like all general propositions, is arrived -at with the aid of the Imagination, so that we may fairly say that the -Imagination, helps to lay the foundation of the Syllogism. When -therefore you bear in mind that in every Syllogism the Premises are -often the result of an Induction in which Imagination has played a part, -and that the conclusion always depends upon an axiom of the Imagination, -you must admit that even Deductive Reasoning by no means excludes the -Imagination. - -(iii) Practically, errors seldom arise, and truth is seldom discovered, -from mere Deductive Reasoning. Any one can see his way through a logical -Syllogism, and almost any one can lay his finger on the weak point in an -illogical one. But the difficulty is to start the Reasoning in the right -direction and to begin the Logical Chain with an appropriate Syllogism. - -For example, suppose we wish to prove that “every triangle which has two -angles equal, has two sides opposite to them equal”: how can our Reason, -our discriminative faculty, help us here? At present, not at all. We -must first call to our aid the Imagination, which says to us, “_Imagine_ -the triangle with two equal angles to have two unequal sides opposite to -them, and see what follows.” And every one who has done a geometrical -Deduction knows that we frequently start by “imagining” the conclusion -to be already proved, or the problem to be already performed, and then -endeavouring to realise, among the many consequences that would follow, -which of those consequences would harmonize with, or be identical with, -the data to which we are working back. - -The same process is common in the reasoning that deals with what is -called Circumstantial Evidence. Thus, it is asserted by A that he saw B -commit a murder in the midst of a field, five minutes before midnight, -on the first day of last month: how can we test the truth of A’s -assertion? The negative faculty of Reason cannot answer the question. -But once more Imagination steps in and says, “_Imagine_ the story to be -true; _imagine_ yourself to be in A’s place; _imagine_ the circumstances -which would have surrounded him, the hidden place from which he saw the -murder, the light which enabled him to see it, the precise sight that he -saw, the voices or sounds that he heard, and, in a word, all the details -of a _likely_ and coherent narrative.” When the Imagination has done -this and “imagined” the place—perhaps a hedge—the light—moonlight, and -so on, Reason steps in, and corroborates or rejects, by shewing that -there was, or was not, a hedge whence the deed could have been -witnessed; that there was a full moon or no moon on the night in -question; that, if there had been a moon, the place in question was open -to the moonlight, or in deep shadow: and thus Imagination and Reason -(aided by experience of the place and knowledge of the time) arrive at a -conclusion, the former making a positive, the latter a negative -contribution. Hence it appears that even in those questions which are -called pre-eminently “practical”—for what can be more “practical” than a -trial in a law-court for life or death?—the Imagination plays so great a -part that without its aid the reason could effect little or nothing. - -Here I must break off; but I hope I have said enough to satisfy you that -the imaginative faculty, though it needs the constant test of Reason and -Experience, is far more intimately connected with what we call -knowledge, than is commonly supposed. But if this be so, we ought not (I -think) to be surprised if a careful analysis of our profoundest -religious convictions should reveal that for these also we are indebted, -and intended by God to be indebted, to the Imagination far more than to -the Reason. - -Footnote 3: - - “Reason” is used, in these letters, in a sense for which Coleridge (I - believe) preferred to use “Understanding.” But as long as we have a - verb “reason,” commonly used of mathematical, logical, and ordinary - processes of arguing, so long it will be inexpedient, in a popular - treatise, to use the word in any but its popular sense. Perhaps some - might give the name of “higher Reason” to what I call Imagination. - - - - - VII - THE CULTURE OF FAITH - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I have been very much pained by your sprightly account of the lively and -witty conversation between you and your clever young friends, —— and ——, -on the proofs of the existence of a God. Bear with me if I assure you -that discussions in that spirit are likely to be fatal to real faith. -They may often be far more dangerous than a serious collision between -untrained faith and the most highly educated scepticism. I do not -deprecate discussion, but I do most earnestly plead for reverence. - -Young men at the Universities stand in especial need of this warning -because their studies lead them to be critical; and habits of criticism -may easily weaken the habit of reverence. I remember once being shewn -over a great public school by the Headmaster, justly celebrated as a -Headmaster once, and much more celebrated since in another capacity. It -was a grand school, though a little too ecclesiastical to suit my taste. -While we were in the chapel my friend spoke earnestly of the pleasure it -gave him on Sundays to see in the chapel the familiar faces of the old -boys who came to revisit the old place. At the same time he deplored the -contrast between those who went into the army, and those who went to the -Universities: “The army fellows,” he said, “almost always come to -Communion, the university fellows almost always stop away.” These words -made an indelible impression on my mind, “Who is to blame, or praise, -for this?” asked I, on my journey homeward. “Is it the army that is to -be praised for its inculcation of discipline and self-subordination, -helping the young fellows to realise the meaning of self-sacrifice? Or -is it the University that is to be blamed for its negative and -destructive teaching? Or can it be that the school is in part to blame -for teaching the boys to believe too much; and the University in part to -blame for teaching the young men to criticize too much?” - -Over and over again, since that time, I have asked myself these same -questions about many other young men from many other public schools. I -honour the army as much as most men, more perhaps than many do: but -after all the profession of a soldier is the profession of a -throat-cutter; throat-cutting in an extensive, expeditious, and -honourable way,—throat-cutting in one direction often undertaken merely -to prevent throat-cutting in another direction—but still throat-cutting -after all: and it seemed very hard to believe that the profession of -throat-cutting is, and ought to be, a better preparation than the -pursuit of learning at the Universities, for participation in the Holy -Communion. On the whole I was led to the conclusion that the young men -in the army had retained and deepened the instinctive obedience to -authority, the sense of the need of the subordination of the individual -to the community, and perhaps also the feeling of reverence, while they -had not been taught so fully to appreciate all that was implied in -attendance at Communion or to realize the intellectual difficulties -presented by the New Testament. In other words—to put it briefly and -roughly—the young cadets and officers came to Communion because they had -been taught to feel and not taught to think; and the University men -stayed away because they had been taught to think and not to feel. Now I -will ask you to excuse me if I suggest that the principal danger to your -character at present arises from the want of such discipline as may be -obtained by some in the army, and by others in the practical work of -life. You need some emotional and moral exercise to counterbalance your -mental and intellectual training. You are not aware how much of the most -valuable knowledge, conviction, certainty—call it what you will, but I -mean that kind of moral and spiritual knowledge which is the basis of -all right conduct—springs in the main from spiritual and emotional -sources. - -In the present letter I should like to confine myself to this subject, -the culture, if I may so say, of Christian faith. Let me then ask you -first to clear your mind by asking yourself what is the essence of the -faith which you would desire to retain. It is (is it not?) a faith or -trust in the fatherhood of God. This surely is the Gospel or Good News -for which Christ lived and died, in order that He might breathe it into -the hearts of men. “Fatherhood”—some of your young friends will -exclaim—“What an antiquated notion! Flat anthropomorphism!” By -“anthropomorphism” they mean a tendency to make God in human shape; just -as Heine’s four-legged poetic Bruin makes God to be a great white Polar -Bear, and the frogs of Celsus imagine Him to be a gigantic Frog. No -doubt, this is very funny; but the decryers of anthropomorphism who -venture on any conception of a God—are they any less funny? Do not they -shew a similar disposition to make God in the shape of human works or -human experiences? Shall I be exploring a nobler path of spiritual -speculation if I say God is a Rock or a Buckler, or a Centre, or a -Force, than if I say God is a Father in heaven? Ask your sceptical -companions what conception of God they can mention which is not open to -objection, and they will perhaps reply “An Eternal, or a Tendency, not -ourselves, which makes for righteousness.” Now to reply “an Eternal,” -appears to me to be taking a rather mean and pedantical advantage of the -uninflected peculiarities of English (and Hebrew), which leave it an -open question whether you mean your “Eternal” to be masculine, or -neuter. And “Tendency”—what is it? Is it not a “stretching,” or -“pulling,” or partially neutralised force—a common human experience? Now -we are dealing with the accusation of limiting our conception of God to -our experiences as men. And, so far as this charge is concerned, what is -the difference between calling God a “Tendency,” or a “Rock,” or a -“Shield,” or a “House of Defence,” as the old Psalmist does? Are not all -these names mere metaphors derived from human experience? In the same -way to call God a Father is (no doubt) a metaphor: but is it more a -metaphor than to call Him a Tendency? - -Some metaphors, which describe God by reference to the relations of man -to man, may be called anthropomorphic; others, which describe Him by -reference to implements (such as a Shield) may be called organomorphic; -others, which assimilate Him to lifeless and inorganic objects (such as -a Hill) may be called by some other grand name, such as apsychomorphic; -others, which would subtilize Him down to a thought, or a mind, or a -spirit, may be called phronesimorphic, noumorphic, pneumatomorphic; but -in the name of common sense—or in the name of that sense which ought to -be common, and which ought to revolt against bondage to mere words—what -is there in that termination “morphic” which should stagger a seeker -after divine truth? Do we not all recognize that all terms applied to -the supreme God are “morphisms” of various kinds? And the question is -not how we can avoid a “morphism”—for we cannot avoid it—but how or -where we can find the noblest and most spiritually helpful “morphism.” -And as between the ancient and the modern metaphors just set before you -can you entertain a moment’s doubt? Might we not imagine the question -put—after the old Roman authoritative fashion—to an assembly of the -consciences of universal mankind: “Christ says that God is a Father in -heaven; refined thinkers say that He is a Tendency; _utri creditis, -gentes_?” To which I seem to hear the answer of the Universe come back, -“We will have no Tendencies seated on the throne of Heaven. Give us a -Father, or we will have nothing.” And you, my dear friend, how is it -with you? _Utri credis_? - -But perhaps you complain, or some of your friends might complain, that -this is not treating the question fairly. “The doctrine of the -Fatherhood of God,” they may say, “is to be discussed like any other -proposition, upon the evidence.” I entirely deny it, if from your -“evidence” you intend to exclude the witness of Imagination expressed in -Faith and Hope. I assert, on the contrary, that it is to be believed in, -against what may be called quasi-evidence. It cannot be demonstrated to -be either true or false. Do not misunderstand me. There is abundant -evidence of a certain kind—as I will hereafter shew—for the Fatherhood -of God; but there is also evidence against it: and what I mean is, that -the mind is not to sit impartially and coldly neutral between the two -testimonies, but is to grasp the former and hold it fast and keep it -constantly in view, while it lays less stress on and (after a time) puts -on one side the latter. I have shewn you that many of our deepest and -most vital convictions are based less upon Reason than upon Imagination. -Why then should we be surprised if the most profound convictions of all, -our religious certainties, rest upon that imaginative desire to which we -have given the name of Faith?[4] If an archangel (robed in light) were -to step down to me this moment and were to cry aloud, “Verily there is -no God,” I should reply, or ought to reply, “Verily thou art a devil.” -If the same archangel were to come in the same way and to say “Verily -there is a God,” I should reply, “I felt sure there was; and now I am -more sure than ever.” How unfair, how illogical, if our belief is to be -a matter of mere evidence! But it is not to be a matter of mere -evidence. It is to be a struggle against an evil thought—shall I not say -an evil being?—that is perpetually attempting to slander God to men by -representing Him as permitting or originating evil. - -Does this startle you—this suggestion of an evil being—as being too -old-fashioned for an educated Christian? Well then, put it aside for the -time (though it is indeed Christ’s doctrine): and merely assume as a -temporary hypothesis that the essence of Christ’s Gospel is a trust in -the Fatherhood of God. Now, if this be so, and if this trust or faith is -to be kept pure and strong, must it not be regarded with reverence and -reserve as being (what indeed it is) a kind of private, domestic, and -family relation? Is it to be made the subject for light, casual, -frivolous discussions; epigrammatic displays; cut-and-thrust exhibitions -of word-fence; logical or rhetorical symposia? What would you say of a -young man who should allow his relations with his father and mother to -be discussed with humour and epigram on every light occasion? Would he -be likely long to retain the bloom of domestic affection unimpaired? I -remember reading about some well-educated and enlightened free-thinker—I -fancy it was Bolingbroke—on whose table a Greek Testament was regularly -placed by the side of the port when the cloth was drawn, and whose -favourite topic for discussion after dinner was the existence and -attributes of the Deity. Does not your instinct teach you that from such -discussions as these no good could possibly come, nothing but a -hardening of the conscience, a fatal familiarity with sacred things -regarded with a view to witticism—that kind of familiarity which too -surely breeds contempt? What a terrible contrast it is—complacent -Bolingbroke at his wine, analysing the attributes of God, and the -all-pitying Father looking down from heaven and pleading, through -Christ, not to be analysed but to be loved and trusted! - -May we not go a step further and say that Christian Faith or trust—if it -be once recognized as faith or trust, altogether distinct from the kind -of assent which we give to a proposition of Euclid—needs not only to be -protected from certain evil influences but also to be subjected to -certain good influences? It is a kind of plant, and requires its -spiritual soil, air, rain and sunshine; in other words it needs good -thoughts, noble aspirations, and unselfish acts, to keep it alive. You -may retort perhaps that Faith itself ought to produce these results, and -not to be produced by them. But I reply that, though Faith does tend to -produce these results, it is strengthened by producing them; and it is -weakened and finally extinguished by not producing them. “Our faith” has -been described as “the victory that hath overcome the world.” What is -there in the world that it should need to be “overcome”? I suppose the -writer meant that this present, visible, tangible, enjoyable system of -things—which was meant by the Supreme to be a kind of glass through -which we might discern something of the greatness and order of the Maker -has been converted, partly by our selfishness, partly by some Evil in -the world outside us, into a mirror shutting out all glimpse of God and -giving us back nothing but the reflection of ourselves. On the other -hand, there is a different way of regarding the world when, our eyes -being opened like the eyes of Aeneas amid burning Troy, we discern in -the midst of this present condition of things a great conflict between -Good and Evil, and on the side of goodness, we see the forms of -Righteousness, Justice and Truth, supported by Faith, Hope, and Charity; -amid the smoke and roar of battles and revolutions, the destructions of -nations, and the downfall of empires and of churches, we realise that -these are abiding influences; that either in this world, or in some -other, these things shall ultimately prevail, because these are the -Angels that stand about the throne of the Ruler of the Universe. This -state of mind is Faith, and it is to be nurtured by effort, partly in -action, partly in thought. Bacon bids us nurture it by “cherishing the -good hours of the mind.” St. Paul says nearly the same thing in -different words: “Whatsoever things are honourable, whatsoever things -are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, -whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if -there be any praise, _think on these things_.” - -Are you surprised at this? Does faith seem to you, on these terms, a -possession of little worth—this quicksilver quality which varies with -every variation of our spiritual atmosphere? Why surely everything that -lives and grows is liable to flux. You do not disparage bodily health -because it is dependent on supports and influences, and liable to -changes; why then disparage spiritual health because it is similarly -dependent? No doubt one would not be willingly a religious -valetudinarian; a man’s spiritual constitution ought not to be at the -mercy of every slight and passing breeze of circumstance; but at present -there is little danger of spiritual valetudinarianism. Physical -“sanitation” is on every one’s tongue; but no one thinks of the -necessity of good spiritual air and of the evils of bad spiritual -drainage. We do not recognize that there are laws of our spiritual as -well as of our material nature. We wilfully narrow our lives to the -sabbathless pursuit of gain or pleasure—self everywhere, God nowhere—and -then go about hypocritically whining that the age of faith has passed -and that we have lost the power of believing. With our own hands we put -the stopper on the telescope and then complain that we cannot see! - -Do not however, suppose that I call upon you, because hope is the basis -of Christian belief, on that account to hope against the truth and to -believe against reason. I bid you believe in the Fatherhood of God, -first because your conscience tells you that this is the best and -noblest belief, but secondly also because this belief—although it may be -against the superficial evidence of the phenomena of the Universe—is in -accordance with these phenomena when you regard them more deeply and -when you include in your scope the history of Christianity. - -I admit that we have to fight against temptations in order to retain -this belief; and sometimes I ask myself, “If I and my children had been -slaves in one of the Southern States of America; or if I and my family -had suffered such indelible outrages as were recently inflicted by the -Turks upon the Bulgarians; or if I were at this moment a matchbox-seller -or a father of ten children (girls as well as boys) in the East of -London—should I find it so easy to believe that God is our Father in -heaven?” And I am obliged to reply, “No, I should not find it easy;” I -fear that I might be tempted to say, as a workman did not long ago to a -lecturer on co-operation who mentioned the name of God: “Oh, no; no God -for us; the workman’s God deserted him long ago.” And perhaps you -yourself may remember the answer of one of those wretched Bulgarians to -some newspaper correspondent who endeavoured to console him in his -anguish by the reflection that “After all there is a God that governs -the world:” “I believe you,” was the reply; “there is indeed a God; and -he governs the world indeed; and he is the Devil.” Or take a spectacle -of the Middle Ages as a problem. In the lists are two armed knights; on -the one side a man of might and muscle, exulting in conflict; on the -other, a slight, weak creature, who never fights save on compulsion, and -is to fight now on sternest compulsion, being accused (though innocent) -of some gross crime by yonder man of flesh, who combines scoundrel, -liar, traitor, oppressor, thief, and adulterer, all in one; and the -fight is to begin under the sanction of the Church of Christ. As the -trumpets sound, while the heralds are still calling on God to “shew the -right,” the two men meet, and “the right” is cast to the ground, -trampled on by his enemy, and dragged from the lists to the neighbouring -gallows, while the muscular scoundrel wipes his forehead and receives -congratulations. Do you suppose that the innocent man’s wife, if she -were looking on, would be able easily to say at that moment, “Verily -there is a God that judgeth the earth”? - -Can I possibly put the case for scepticism more strongly? I would fain -put it with all the force in my power in order to convince you that I -have thought often over these matters, and that, although my own life -may have been happy and free from stumbling-blocks, I have at least -tried to understand and sympathize with those who find it very hard to -believe that there is a God. But, in the presence of such monstrous -evils as these, I take refuge in a belief and in a fact; first, in the -belief (which runs through almost every page of the Gospels and has -received the sanction of Christ Himself) that there is an Evil Being in -the world who is continually opposing the Good but will be ultimately -subdued by the Good; secondly, in the fact that in one great typical -conflict between Good and Evil,—where apparently God did not “shew the -right,” and where, in appearance, there was consummated the most brutal -triumph of Evil over Good that the world ever witnessed—there the Good -in reality effected its most signal triumph. The issue of the conflict -on the Cross of Christ is my great comfort and mainstay of faith, when -my heart is distracted with the thought of all the spurns, buffets, and -outrages, endured by much-suffering humanity. “At last, far off,” I cry, -“the right will be shewn, even as it was in the contest on the Cross.” - -You see then the nature of the conflict of faith. It is a struggle of -hope against fear, trustfulness against trustlessness, where strict -logical proof is impossible. But I do not call you to set Faith against -Reason, or to make hope trample on the understanding, or to shut your -eyes to the presence or absence of historical evidence. If religion -comes down from the region of hope and aspiration into the region of -fact and evidence, and asserts that this or that fact happened at this -or that time and place, then, so far, it appeals to evidence, and by -evidence it must be judged. - -Half the earnest scepticism of the present day is not really spiritual -scepticism but simply doubt about historical facts. Distinguish -carefully and constantly between two terms entirely different but -continually confused—the _super-natural_ and the _miraculous_. - -In the super-natural every rational man must believe, if he knows what -is meant by the term; for every rational man must acknowledge that the -world had either a beginning or no beginning, a First Cause or no First -Cause; and either hypothesis is altogether above the level of natural -phenomena, and therefore supernatural. The theist and the atheist are -alike believers in the supernatural. The agnostic, poised between the -two, admits that some supernatural origin of the world is necessary, but -is unable to decide which of the two is the more probable. All alike -therefore believe in the supernatural; but the important difference is -that some take a hopeful or faithful, others a hopeless or faithless, -view of the supernatural. Proof in this region is not possible, unless -the testimony of the conscience may be accepted as proof. If Jesus were -to appear to-morrow sitting on the clouds of heaven and testifying that -there is a Father in heaven, I can imagine some men of science replying, -“This is a mere phantom of the brain,” or, “This is the result of -indigestion,” or “Assertion is not proof.” Mere force of logical proof -or personal observation can convince no one that there is a God or that -Jesus is the Eternal Son of God; such a conviction can only come from a -leaping out of the human spirit to meet the Spirit of God; and hence St. -Paul tells us that “no man can say”—that is, “say sincerely”—“that Jesus -is the Lord _save by the Spirit_.” Here therefore, in this region of the -indemonstrable, I can honestly use an effort of the will to ally myself -with the spirit of faith. “I will pray to God; I will cling to God; will -refuse to doubt of God; refuse to listen to doubts about God (except so -far as may be needful to do it, in order to lighten the doubts of -others, and then only as a painful duty, to be got through with all -speed); I am determined (so help me God) to believe in God to the end of -my days:” resolving thus I am not acting insincerely nor shutting my -eyes to the truth, but taking nature’s appointed means for reaching and -holding fast the highest spiritual truth. - -But I do not feel justified in thus using my will to constrain myself to -believe in the miraculous; for here God has given me other means—such as -history, experience, and evidence—for arriving at the truth. Nor does a -belief in the super-natural in the least imply a belief in the -miraculous also. I may believe that God is continually supporting and -impelling on its path every created thing; but I may also believe that -there is no evidence to prove that His support and impulsion have ever -been manifested save in accordance with that orderly sequence which we -call Law. I may even believe that the Universe is double, having a -spiritual and invisible counterpart corresponding to this visible and -material existence, so that nothing is done in the world of flesh below -which has not been first done in the world of spirit above; yet even -this latitude of spiritual speculation would not in the least establish -the conclusion that the observed sequence of what we call cause and -effect in the material world has ever been violated. To take a -particular instance, I may be convinced, that Jesus of Nazareth was the -Eternal Word of God, made flesh for men; and yet I may remain -unconvinced that, in thus taking flesh upon Him, He raised Himself above -the physical laws of humanity. In other words I may, with the author of -the Fourth Gospel, heartily believe in the supernatural Incarnation -while omitting from my Gospel all mention of the Miraculous Conception. -Nay, I may go still further. While cordially accepting the divine nature -of Christ, I may see such clear indications and evidences of the manner -in which accounts of miracles sprang up in the Church without foundation -of fact, that I may be compelled not merely to omit miracles from my -Gospel and to confess myself unconvinced of their truth, but even to -avow my conviction of their untruth. But into this negative aspect of -things I do not wish now to enter. I would rather urge on you this -positive consideration, that, since our recognition of the Laws of -Nature themselves, depends in a very large degree upon faith, we ought -not to be surprised if our acknowledgment of the Founder of these Laws -rests also on the same basis. And, if this be so, we cannot speak -accurately about the “evidence” for the existence of a God, unless we -include in that term the aspirations of the human conscience toward a -Maker and Ruler and Father of all. - -Footnote 4: - - Faith is “desire (approved by the Conscience) of which we imagine the - fulfilment, while putting doubt at a distance”: see the _Definitions_ - at the end of the volume. - - - - - VIII - FAITH AND DEMONSTRATION - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I am afraid your notions about “proof” are still rather hazy; for you -quote against me a stern and self-denying dictum which passes current -among some of your young friends, that “it is immoral to believe what -cannot be proved.” - -Have you seriously asked yourself what you mean by “proved” in -enunciating this proposition? Do you mean “made sufficiently probable to -induce a man to act upon the probability”? Or do you mean “absolutely -demonstrated”? - -If you mean the former, not so many as you suppose are guilty of this -“immorality.” Give me an instance, if you can, of a man who “believes -what cannot be made sufficiently probable to induce him to act upon the -probability.” Of course some men _say_ they believe what they, in -reality, do not believe; but you speak, not about “saying” but about -“believing;” and I do not see how any man can “believe” what he does not -regard as probable. I am inclined to think therefore that, in this sense -of the word “prove,” your proposition is meaningless. - -But perhaps by “prove,” you mean “absolutely demonstrate;” and your -thesis is that “it is immoral to believe what cannot be absolutely -demonstrated;” in that case I am obliged to ask you how you can repeat -such cant, such a mere parrot cry, with a grave face. - -Do you not see that, as soon as you conceded (as I understand you to -have done) that our belief in the Laws of Nature is based upon the -Imagination, you virtually conceded the validity of a kind of proof in -which faith and hope play a large part, and in which demonstration is -impossible. “Demonstration” applies to mathematics and to syllogisms -where the premises are granted, though it is also sometimes loosely used -of proof conveyed by personal observation; “proof” applies to the other -affairs of life. Demonstration appeals very largely (not entirely, as I -have shown above, but very largely) to Reason; proof is largely based on -Faith. Having defined “angles,” “triangles,” “base,” and “isosceles,” -and having been granted certain axioms and postulates, I can demonstrate -that the angles at the basis of an isosceles triangle are equal to one -another; but I cannot “demonstrate” that, if I throw a stone in the air, -it will come down again, though I am perfectly convinced that it will -come down, and though I commonly assert that I can “prove” that it will -come down. - -Why, your whole life is full of beliefs—as certain as any beliefs can -be—which it is impossible to demonstrate! When you got up this morning -did you not believe that your razor would shave and your looking-glass -reflect; that your boiling water would scald if you spilt it, and your -egg break if you dropped it; and a score or two of other similar -perfectly certain beliefs—all entertained and acted on in less than an -hour, but all incapable of demonstration? But you maintain perhaps that -“these beliefs are not beliefs, but knowledge based on the uniformity of -the laws of nature; you know that the laws of nature are uniform, and -therefore you knew that your razor would shave.” But how, I ask, do you -know that the laws of nature are uniform? “By the experience of mankind -during many thousands of years.” But how do you know that what has been -in the past will be in the future—will be in the next instant? “Well, if -a law of nature were broken—say, for example, the law of gravitation—the -whole Universe would fall to pieces.” In other words, you and I would -feel extremely uncomfortable, if we existed long enough to feel -anything; but what does that demonstrate? Absolutely nothing. It would -no doubt be extremely inconvenient for both of us if any law of nature -observed in the past did not continue to be observed in the future; but -inconvenience proves nothing logically. It is no doubt extremely -inconvenient not to be able to believe that your razor will shave; but -what of that? Where is the demonstration? And remember your own -_dictum_, “It is immoral to believe what cannot be demonstrated.” - -Perhaps you may try to writhe out of this application of your own -principle by the use of grand terms; “The Laws of Nature have been -proved to be true by experiment as well as by observation; they have -been made the basis for abstruse calculations and inferences as to what -will happen; then the philosopher has predicted ‘this will happen,’ and -it has happened. Surely no one will deny that this is a proof!” A proof -of what? Of the future invariableness of the sequences of Nature? I -shall not only deny, but enjoy denying, that it is a proof; if you mean -by proof such a demonstrative proof as you obtain in a syllogism, where -the premises are assumed, or in mathematics, where you are reasoning -about things that have no real existence but are merely convenient ideas -of the imagination. Believe me, this distinction of terms is by no means -superfluous. You and your young scientific friends are continually -confusing “proof” with “demonstration;” and you have one use of the word -“proof” for religion and another for science. When you speak of -religion, you say “it is immoral to believe in it for it cannot be -_proved_” (meaning “demonstrated”); when you speak of science, you say, -“This can be _proved_” (not meaning “demonstrated,” but simply “made -probable,” or “proved for practical purposes”). - -You may discourse for hours upon the Laws of Nature, but you will never -succeed in convincing any one, not even yourself, that they will remain -valid in the moment that is to come, by the mere force of logic. You are -certain—so am I practically quite certain—that the stone which I throw -at this moment up in the air, will, in the next moment, fall to the -ground. But this certainty does not arise from logic. We have absolutely -no reason for this leap into the darkness of the future except -faith,—faith of course resting upon a basis of facts, but still faith. -The very names and notions of “cause” and “effect” are due not to -observation, nor to demonstration, but to faith. The name, and the -notion, of a Law of Nature are nothing but convenient ideas of the -scientific imagination, based upon faith. Take an instance. We say, and -genuinely believe, that fire and gunpowder “cause” explosion; that -explosion is the “effect” of gunpowder and fire; and that the effect -follows the causes in accordance with the “laws of nature;” but you have -not observed all this and you cannot demonstrate it. You have merely -observed in the past an invariable sequence of explosion following (in -all cases that you have seen or heard about) the combination of -gunpowder and fire; you have also perhaps predicted in the past that -explosion would follow, and demonstrated that it did follow this -combination, as often as you pleased; you have found, or have heard that -others have found, that this sequence agrees with other chemical -sequences, which you are in the habit of calling causes and effects; but -all this is evidence as to the past, not as to the future. Your -certainty as to the future arises not from any demonstration about the -future, but from your faith or trust in the fixed order of Nature, and -from nothing else. Now the greater part of the action of life deals with -the future. It follows therefore that, in the greater part of life, we -act, not from demonstration, but from a proof in which faith is a -constituent element. - -Whence arises this trust in the uniformity of the phenomena of the -Universe? We can hardly give any other answer except that we could not -get on without it. Having been found to “work” by ourselves, and by many -generations of our forefathers, this faith is possibly by this time an -inherited instinct as well as the inbred result of our own earliest -experiences. But when we analyse it we are forced to confess that we can -give no logical account of it. Logically regarded, it savours of the -most audacious optimism, arguing, or rather sentimentalizing, after this -fashion: “It would be so immensely inconvenient if Nature were every -moment changing her rules without notice! All forethought, all -civilization would be at an end; nay, we could not so much as take a -single step or move a limb with confidence, if we could not depend upon -Nature!” Does not this personification of Nature, and trust or faith in -Nature, somewhat resemble our trust or faith in God? I think it does; -and it is very interesting to note that the very foundations of science -are laid in a quasi-religious sentiment of which no logical -justification can be given. - -I might easily go further and shew that, even as regards the past, we -act in our daily lives very often on the grounds of faith and very -seldom on the grounds of demonstration. On this I have touched in a -previous letter; but your dictum about the “immorality of believing what -cannot be proved” makes it clear that you are hardly as yet aware of the -nature of the ordinary “proofs” on which we act. How few there are who -have any grounds but faith for believing in the existence of a Julius -Cæsar or an Alexander! Yet they believe implicitly. Many have heard -these two great men loosely spoken of, or alluded to; but they have -never weighed, nor have they the least power to weigh, the evidence that -proves that Cæsar and Alexander actually existed. Now as the unlearned -are quite certain of the existence of a Julius Cæsar, so are you too -quite certain of many facts upon very slight grounds. You ask one man -his name; another, how many children he has; a third, the name of the -street in which he lives, and so on; how certain you often feel, on the -slight evidence of their answers (unless there be special grounds for -suspecting them) that your information is correct! The reason is that -all social intercourse depends on faith; if you began to suspect and -disbelieve every man who gave you answers to such simple questions as -these, social life would be at an end for you, and you might as well at -once retire to a hermitage; scepticism in matters of this kind has not -worked, and faith has worked; and this has gone on with you from -childhood and with your forefathers from their childhood for many -generations. Thus faith has become a second instinct with you, and you -act upon it so often and so naturally that you are not aware of the -degree to which it influences and permeates your actions. The cases in -which you act thus instinctively upon very slight evidence, and upon a -large and general faith in the people who give the evidence, are far -more numerous than those cases in which you formally weigh evidence and -attempt to arrive at something like demonstrative proof. In other words, -not only as regards the future but also as regards the past, faith is -for the most part the underlying basis of action. You believe, to a -large extent and in a great many cases, simply because “it would be so -immensely inconvenient not to believe.” - -I claim that I have fulfilled my promise of shewing that people act much -more upon faith than upon demonstration in every department of life; and -I now repeat and emphasize what I said before, that if all our existence -is thus dominated by faith, it is absurd to attempt to exclude faith -from any religion. But if our special religion consists in a recognition -of God the Maker as God the Father, then it is more natural than ever to -suppose that our religion will require a large element of faith or -trust. Just as family life would break down if the sons were always -analysing the father’s character, and declining to believe anything to -his credit beyond what could be demonstrated to be true, so religious -life will break down, if we treat the Father in heaven as a mere topic -for logical discussion and declare that it is “immoral to believe” in -His fatherhood if it cannot be proved. - -Of course I do not deny that you must have evidence of the existence of -the Father before you can trust in Him. You could not trust your parents -if you had not seen, touched, heard them—known something of them in fact -through the senses: so neither can you trust God if you have not known -something of Him through the senses. Well, I maintain that is what you -are continually doing. God is continually revealing Himself to us in the -power, the beauty, the glory, the harmony, the beneficence, the mystery, -of the Universe, and pre-eminently in human goodness and greatness. -Contemplate, touch, hear; concentrate your mind on these things, and -especially on the perfection of human goodness, power, and wisdom: thus -you will be enabled to realize the presence of the Father and then to -trust in Him. Contemplate also the Evolution of the present from the -past: the ascent from a protoplasm to the first man, from the first man -to a Homer, a Dante, a Shakespeare and a Newton; do not entirely ignore -Socrates, St. Paul, St. Francis. You cannot indeed shut your eyes to the -growth of evil simultaneously with the growth of good: but do not fix -your eyes too long upon the evil: prefer to contemplate the defeat of -evil by goodness, especially in the struggle on the Cross; and with your -contemplation let there be some admixture of action against the evil and -for the good. Do this, and I think you will have no reason to complain -of the want of “evidence” of the existence of One who has made us to -trust in Him. - -I have told you what to do: let me add one word also of warning as to -what you are not to do. You are not to regard the world from the point -of view of a neutral and amused spectator. You are not to detach -yourself from the great struggle of good against evil, and to look on, -and call it “interesting.” That attitude is fatal to all religion. -Reject, as from the devil, the precept _nil admirari_; better be a fool -than a dispassionate critic of Christ. Again, you are not to regard the -world from the mere student point of view, looking at the Universe as a -great Examination Paper in which you may hope to solve more problems and -score more marks than anybody else. High intellectual pursuits and -habits of enthusiastic research are sometimes terribly demoralizing when -they tempt a man to think that he can live above, and without, social -ties and affections, and that mere sentiment is to be despised in -comparison with knowledge. This danger impends over literary as well as -other students, over critical theologians as well as over scientific -experimenters; we all sometimes forget—we students—that, if we do not -exercise the habit of trusting and loving men, we cannot trust and love -God. To harden oneself against the mute but trustful appeal of even a -beast is not without some spiritual peril of incapacitating oneself for -worship. - - - - - IX - SATAN AND EVOLUTION - - -MY DEAR ——, - -Your grounds of objection appear to be now changed. You say you do not -understand my position with regard to Evolution, as I described it -before, and referred to it in my last letter. If I admit Evolution, you -ask how I can consistently deny that every nation and every individual, -Israel and Christ included, “proceeded from material causes by necessary -sequence according to fixed laws;” and in that case what becomes of such -metaphors as “the regulating hand of God,” “God the Ruler of the -Universe” and the like? It is a common saying, you tell me, among those -of your companions who have a turn for science, that “Evolution has -disposed of the old proofs of the existence of a God:” and you ask me -how I meet this objection. - -I meet it by asking you another question exactly like your own. I take a -lump of clay and a potter’s wheel, and “from these material causes by -necessary sequence according to fixed laws” I mould a vessel; is there -no room in this process for “the regulating hand of man” and for “man -the creator of the vessel”? In other words, may not these “fixed laws,” -and that “necessity” of which you admit the existence, represent the -perpetual pressure of the Creator’s hand, or will, upon the Universe? - -By Evolution is meant that all results are evolved from immediate -causes, which are evolved from distant causes, which are themselves -evolved from more distant causes; and so on. In old times, men believed -that God made the world by a number of isolated acts. Now, it is -believed that He made a primordial something, say atoms, out of which -there have been shaped series upon series of results by continuous -motion in accordance with fixed laws of nature. But neither the isolated -theory nor the continuous theory can dispense with a Creator in the -centre. We speak of the “chain of creation;” and we know that in old -days men recognized few links between us and the Creator. Now, we -recognize many. But, because a chain has more links than we once -supposed, are we excused for rejecting our old belief in the existence -of a chain-maker? Whether things came to be as they are, by many -creations, or by one creation and many evolutions, what difference does -it make? In the one case, we believe in a Creator and Sustainer: in the -other case, in a Creator and Evolver. In either case, do we not believe -in a God? - -What then do your young friends mean—for though they express themselves -loosely, I think they do mean something and are not merely repeating a -cant phrase—when they say that Evolution has “disposed of the old proofs -of the existence of a God”? I think they mean that Evolution is -inconsistent with the existence of _such a God as the Christian religion -proclaims, that is to say, a Father in heaven_. The old theory of -discontinuous creation (in its most exaggerated form) maintained that -everything was created for a certain benevolent purpose—our hair to -shelter our heads from the weather, our eyebrows and eyelashes to keep -off the dust and the sun, our thumbs to give us that prehensile power -which largely differentiates us from apes; in a word, paternal despotism -was supposed to do everything for us with the best of intentions. The -new theory says there is no sufficient evidence of such paternal -benevolence. Our hair and our eyebrows and eyelashes and thumbs came to -us in quite a different fashion. Life, ever since life existed, has been -one vast scramble and conflict for the good things of this world: those -beings that were best fitted for scrambling and fighting destroyed those -that were unfit, and thus propagated the peculiarities of the conquerors -and destroyed the peculiarities of the conquered. Thus the -characteristics of body or brain best fitted for the purpose of life -were developed, and the unfit were destroyed. Although therefore a -purpose was achieved, it was not achieved as a purpose, but as a -consequence. There is no room, say the supporters of Evolution, in such -a theory as this for the hypothesis of an Almighty Father of mankind, or -even of a very intelligent Maker. What should we think of a British -workman who, in order to make one good brick, made a hundred bad ones, -or of a cattle-breeder whose plan was to breed a thousand inferior -beasts on inadequate pasture, in order ultimately to produce, out of -their struggles for food, and as a result of the elimination of the -unfittest, one pre-eminent pair? - -When he expresses himself in this way, my sympathies go very far with -the man of science, if only he could remember that he is protesting, not -against Christ’s teaching about God, but against some other quite -different theory. Though God is called “Almighty” in the New Testament, -we must remember that it is always assumed that there is an opposing -Evil, an Adversary or Satan, who will ultimately be subdued but is -meantime working against the will of God. The origin of this Evil the -followers of Christ do not profess to understand but we believe that it -was not originated by God and that it is not obedient to Him. We cannot -therefore, strictly speaking, say that God is the Almighty ruler of “the -Universe _as it is_.” God is King _de jure_, but not at present _de -facto_ (metaphors again! but metaphors expressive of distinct -realities). His kingdom is “to come:” He will be hereafter recognized as -Almighty; He cannot be so recognized at present. - -I know very well that I can give no logical or consistent account of -this mysterious resistance to the Supreme God. But I am led to recognize -it, first, by the facts of the visible world; secondly, by the plain -teaching of Christ Himself. Surely the authority of Christ must count -for something with Christians in their theorizing about the origin of -evil. Would not even an agnostic admit that as, in poetry, I should be -right in following the lead of a poet, so in matters of spiritual belief -(if I am to have any spiritual belief at all) I am right in deferring to -Christ? It is a marvel to me how some Christians who find the -recognition of miracles inextricably involved in the life and even in -the teaching of Christ, nevertheless fail to see, or at all events are -most unwilling to confess, that the recognition of an evil one, or -Satan, is an axiom that underlies all His doctrine. In the view of -Jesus, it is Satan that causes some forms of disease and insanity; Satan -is the author of temptation, the destroyer of the good seed, the sower -of tares, the “evil one”—so at least the text of the Revisers tells -us—from whom we must daily pray to be delivered. The same belief -pervades the writings of St. Paul. Yet if you preach nowadays this plain -teaching of our Lord, the heterodox shrug their shoulders and cry -“Antediluvian!” while the orthodox think to dispose of the whole matter -in a phrase, “Flat Manichæism!” But to the heterodox I might reply that -Stuart Mill (no very antiquated or credulous philosopher) deliberately -stated that it was more easy to believe in the existence of an Evil as -well as a Good, than in the existence of one good and all-powerful God; -and the orthodox must, upon reflection, admit that in this doctrine -about Satan Christ’s own teaching is faithfully followed. - -Of course if any one replies, “Christ was under an illusion in believing -in the existence of Satan,” I have no means of logically confuting him. -But I think there must be many who would say, with me: “If I am to have -any theory in matters of this kind which are entirely beyond the sphere -of demonstration, I would sooner accept the testimony of Christ than the -speculations of all the philosophers that ever were or are. Christ was -possibly, or even probably, ignorant (in His humanity) of a great mass -of literary, historical, physiological, and other scientific facts -unknown to the rest of the Jews. But we cannot suppose Him to be -spiritually ignorant; least of all, so spiritually ignorant as to -attribute to the Adversary what ought to have been attributed to God the -Father in Heaven.” - -It would be easy for you to shew that any theory of Satan is absurdly -illogical; nobody can be convinced of that more firmly than I am -already. Whether Satan was good at first and became evil without a -cause; or was good at first and became evil from a certain cause (which -presupposes another pre-existing Satan); or was evil from the beginning -and created by God; or evil from the beginning and not created by God—in -all or any of these hypotheses I see, as clearly as you see, insuperable -difficulties. If you cross-examine me, I shall avow at once a logical -collapse, after this fashion: “Were there then two First Causes?” I -believe not. “Did the Evil spring up after the Good?” I believe so. “Did -the first Good create the Evil?”[5] I believe not. “Did the Evil then -spring up without a cause?” I cannot tell. “Did the Good, when He -created the Goodness that issued in Evil, know that he, or it, contained -the germ of evil, and would soon become wholly evil?” I do not believe -this. “Whence then came the Evil, or the germ of the Evil?” I do not -know. “Are you not then confessing that you believe, where you know -nothing?” Yes, for if I knew, there would be no need to believe. - -Here you have a sufficiently amusing exhibition of inconsistency and -ignorance; but this seems to me of infinitely little concern where I am -dealing not with matters that fall within the range of experience, but -with spiritual and supernatural things that belong to the realm of -faith, hope, and aspiration. I could just as easily turn inside out my -cross examiner if he undertook to give me a scientific theory on the -origin of the world. No doubt he might prefer having no theory about the -origin of the world, and might recommend me to imitate him by having no -theory about the origin of Evil, or about the nature of the Supreme -Good. But my answer would be as follows: “I have a certain work to do in -the world, and I cannot go on with my work without having some theories -on these subjects. Most men feel with me that they must have some answer -to these stupendous problems of existence. As the senses are intended to -be our guide in matters of experience, so our faculty of faith seems to -me intended to guide us in matters quite beyond experience.” There is -another answer which I hardly like to give because it seems brutal; but -I believe it to be true, and it is certainly capable of being expressed -in the evolutionary dialect so as to commend itself to the scientific -mind: “An agnostic nation will find itself sooner or later unsuited for -its environment, and will either come to believe in some solution of -these spiritual problems or stagnate and perish. And something of the -same result will follow from agnosticism in the family and in the -individual.” - -From this doctrine of Christ then I am not to be dislodged by any -philosophic analysis demonstrating that good and evil so run into one -another that it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other -begins. “Is all pain evil? Is it an evil that a sword’s point pains you? -Would it not be a greater evil that a sword should run you through -unawares because it did not pain you? Is not the pain of hunger a useful -monitor? Has not pain in a thousand cases its use as a preservative? Is -not what you call ‘sin’ very often misplaced energy? If a child is -restless and talkative and consequently disobedient, must you -consequently bring in Satan to account for the little one’s -peccadilloes? If a young man is over-sanguine, reckless, rash, -occasionally intemperate, must all these faults be laid upon the back of -an enemy of mankind? Is animal death from Satan, but vegetable death -from God? And is the death of a sponge a half and half contribution from -the joint Powers? And when I swallow an oyster, may I give thanks to -God? but when a tiger devours a deer, or an eagle tears a hare, or a -thrush swallows a worm, are they doing the work of the Adversary? Where -are you to begin to trace this permeating Satanic agency? Go back to the -primordial atom. Are we to say that the Devil impelled it in the selfish -tangential straight line, and that God attracts it with an unselfish -centripetal force, and that the result is the harmonious curve of -actuality? If you give yourself up to such a degrading dualism as this, -will you not be more often fearing Satan than loving God? Will you not -be attributing to Satan one moment, what the next moment will compel you -to attribute to God? Where will you draw the line?” To all this my -answer is very simple: “I shall draw the line where the spiritual -instinct within me draws it. Whatever I am forced to pronounce contrary -to God’s intention I shall call evil and attribute to Satan.” Herein I -may go wrong in details, and I may have to correct my judgments as I -grow in knowledge; but I am confident that, on the whole, I shall be -following the teaching of Christ. My spiritual convictions accord with -the teaching of that ancient allegory in the book of Genesis, which -tells us that Satan, not God, brought sin and death into the world. -There was a Fall somewhere, in heaven perhaps as well as on earth—“war -in heaven” of the Evil against the Good—a declension from the divine -ideal, a lapse by which the whole Universe became imperfect. It has been -the work of God, not to create death, but upon the basis of death to -erect a hope and faith in a higher life; not to create sin, but out of -sin, repentance, and forgiveness, to elicit a higher righteousness than -would have been possible (so we speak) if sin had never existed. -Similarly of disease, and pain, and the conflict in the animal world for -life and death: good has resulted from them; yet I cannot think of them, -I cannot even think of change and decay, as being, so to speak, “parts -of God’s _first intention_.” Stoics, and Christians who imitate Stoics, -may call these things “indifferent:” I cannot. And even if I could, what -of the ferocity, and cruelty, and exultation in destruction, which are -apparent in the animal world? “Death,” say the Stoics, “is the mere exit -from life.” Is it? I was once present at a theatre in Rouen where the -hero took a full quarter of an hour to die of poison, and the young -Normans who sat round me expressed their strenuous disapprobation: -“C’est trop long,” they murmured. I have made the same remonstrance in -my heart of hearts, ever since I was a boy and saw a cat play with a -mouse, and a patient stoat hunt down and catch at last a tired-out -rabbit: “It is too long,” “It is too cruel.” “Did God ordain this?”—I -asked: and I answered unhesitatingly “No.” These are but small phenomena -in Nature’s chamber of horrors: but for me they have always been, and -will always remain, horrible. I believe that God intends us to regard -them with horror and perhaps to see in them some faint reflection of the -wantonly destructive and torturing instinct in man. - -Those are fine-sounding lines, those of Cleanthes:— - - οἰδέ τι γίγνεται ἔργον ἐπὶ χθονὶ σου δίχα, δαῖμον, - πλὴν ὅποσα ῥέζουσι κακοὶ σφετέρῃσιν ἀνοίαις.[6] - -I should like to agree with them; but I cannot. The picture of the cat -and the mouse appears—fertile in suggestions. “This at least,” I say, -“was not wrought by ‘evil men in their folly;’ and yet it did not come -direct from God.” Isaiah pleases me better with his prediction, -physiologically absurd, but spiritually most true: “The lion shall eat -straw like a bullock.” That is just the confession that I need: it comes -to me with all the force of a divine acknowledgment, as if God thereby -said: “Death and conflict must be for a time, but they shall not be for -ever: it was not my intention, it is not my will, that my creatures -should thrive by destroying each other.” - -Applying this theory to Evolution, I believe that Satan, not God, was -the author of the wasteful and continuous conflict that has -characterized it; but that God has utilized this conflict for the -purposes of development and progress. This is what I had in my mind when -I said that Evolution diminished the difficulties in the way of -acknowledging the existence of a God. The problems of death, -destruction, waste, conflict and sin, are not new; they are as old as -Job, perhaps as old as the first-created man; but it is new to learn -that good has resulted from those evils. In so far as Evolution has -taught this, it has helped to strengthen, not to weaken, our faith. But -then, if we are to use this language, we must learn to think, not of -“Evolution by itself,” but of “Evolution with Satan.” “Evolution without -Satan” would appal us by the seeming wastefulness and ubiquity of -conflict and the indirectness of its benefits; but “Evolution with -Satan” enables us to realize God as our refuge and strength amid the -utmost storms and tempests of destruction. - -If any one says that the belief in Satan is inexpedient, I am ready to -give him a patient hearing; but I find it difficult to listen patiently -to what people are pleased to call arguments against it. For example, -“Duty can exist only in a world of conflict;” to which the reply is -obvious, “But God might have made men for love and harmonious obedience, -and not for duty and conflict.” This, of course, is a very presumptuous -statement, such as Bishop Butler would have condemned; but it is a -fitting reply to a still more presumptuous implied statement. God has -revealed Himself as Righteousness and Goodness without internal -conflict; He has also revealed His purpose to conform us to Himself; and -the Bible speaks of Him as being opposed by an Adversary who caused men -for a time to differ from the divine image; is it not then a very -presumptuous thing to imply that “God _could_ not have created men but -for conflict and duty,” or, in other words, “God _could_ not have made -us better than we are, even had there been no Adversary opposing His -will?” Again, we hear it said that, “An evil Spirit contending against a -good Spirit must needs have produced two distinct worlds, and not the -one progressive world of which we have experience:” to which the answer -is equally obvious, “The orbit of every planet, or the path of any -projectile, shows that two different forces may result in one continuous -curve.” - -The only consistent and systematic way of rejecting a belief in the -existence of Satan is to reject the belief in the existence of sin. Then -you can argue thus, “The notion of a Satan arises from the false and -sharp antagonism which our human imaginations set up between ‘good’ and -‘evil,’ whereas what we call ‘evil’ is really nothing but an excess of -tendencies good in themselves and only evil when carried to excess. The -difference therefore between good and evil is only a question of -degree.” That theory sounds plausible; but it ignores the essence of -sin, which consists in a rebellion against Conscience. It is not excess, -or defect, the more, or the less; it is the moral disorder, the -subversion of human nature, which is so frightful to contemplate that we -cannot believe it to have proceeded from God. But perhaps you reply, -“That very disorder is merely the result of energy out of place or in -excess.” Well, in the same way, when gas is escaping in a room in which -there is a lighted candle, there is first a quiet and inoffensive escape -of the gas, and secondly a violent and perhaps calamitous explosion; and -you might argue similarly, “The difference was only one of degree; the -explosion was merely the result of a useful element out of place and in -excess.” But I should answer that no sober and sensible householder -would justify himself in this way for allowing a lighted candle and -escaping gas to come together; and so I cannot believe that God is -willing that men should justify Him for tolerating theft, murder, and -adultery, on the ground that these things are “only questions of -degree.” I think we please Him better, and draw closer to Him, when we -say, “An Enemy hath done this.” And besides, for our own sakes, if we -are to resist sin with our utmost force, it seems to me we are far more -likely to do so when we regard it as Christ and St. Paul regarded it -than when we give it the name of “misplaced energy,” or “an excessive -use of faculties, in themselves, good and necessary.” - -To me it seems that if we are to have a genuine trust in God, it is -almost necessary that we should believe in the existence of a Satan. I -say “almost,” because there may be rare exceptions. A few pure saintly -souls, of inextinguishable trust, may perhaps be able to face the awful -phenomena of Evil and to say, “Though He hath done all this yet will we -trust in Him; what may have moved Him to cause His creatures to struggle -together, and to thrive, each on the destruction of its neighbour, we -know not, and we are not careful to know; our hearts teach us that He is -above us in goodness, and in wisdom, as in power; we know that we must -trust Him; more than this we do not wish to know.” Such men are to be -admired—but to be admired by most of us at a great distance. For the -masses of men, and especially for those who know something of the depth -of sin, it must be a great and almost a necessary help to say, “The Good -that is done upon Earth, God doeth it Himself; the evil that is upon -earth God doeth it not: an Enemy hath done this.” - -One evil resulting from the rejection of Christ’s doctrine is that we -consequently fail to understand much of His life and sufferings. If -Christ was really manifested that He might destroy the works of the -Devil, then much is clear that is otherwise incomprehensible. There was -then no delusion nor insincerity in the parables of the Sower and the -Tares. God did not first cast the good seed and then blow it away with -His own breath. God did not sow wheat with the right hand and tares with -the left. “An Enemy” had done the mischief. There was no fiction when -Jesus spent those long hours by night on the mountain top in prayer. He -needed help, and needed it sorely. He was fighting a real battle. It was -not the mere anticipation of pains in the flesh, the piercing nails, the -parching thirst, the long-protracted death, that made the bitterness of -Christ’s passion. Even when He had regained composure, and in perfect -calm was going forth to meet His death, we find Him declaring that Satan -had asked for one of his Apostles “to sift him as wheat”, and implying -that all His prayers were needed that the faith of the tempted disciple -should not “fail.” But in Gethsemane the battle for the souls of men was -still pending. There was an Enemy who was pulling down His heart, -striving hard to make Him despair of sinful mankind, perhaps to despair -of we know not what more beyond; forcing Him in the extremity of that -sore conflict to cry that He was “exceeding sorrowful even unto death,” -and afterwards, on the Cross, to utter those terrible words, “My God, my -God, why hast thou forsaken me?” All this is full of profound meaning, -if there was indeed an Enemy. But if there was no Enemy, what becomes of -the conflict? What meaning is left to the Crucifixion, except as the -record of mere physical sufferings, the like of which have been endured, -before and after, by thousands of ordinary men and women? - -This belief in the existence of Satan appears to me to be confirmed by -daily present experience as well as by the life of Christ. It “works.” -It enables us, as no other belief does, to go to the poor, the sick, the -suffering, and the sinful, and to preach Christ’s Gospel of the -fatherhood of God. All simple, straightforward people who are acquainted -with the troubles of life must naturally crave this doctrine. If you -ascribe to Providence the work of Satan, they will consciously or -unconsciously identify Providence with the author of evil, and look to -One above to rescue them from Providence. Instead of attempting to -console people for all their evils by laying them on the Author of -Goodness, we ought to lay them in part upon themselves, in part on the -author of evil. “God, the Father in heaven, did not intend you to be -thus miserable”—thus we can begin our message—“your sufferings come from -an Enemy against whom He is contending. Do not for a moment suppose that -you are to put up in this life with penury, disease, misery, and sin as -if these things came from God. Very often they are the just punishments -of your own faults, as when drunkenness brings disease; but as the sin, -so also the punishment, was of Satan’s making, though God may use both -for your good. You are to be patient under tribulation; you are to be -made perfect through suffering; you are to regard the trials and -troubles of life as being in some sense a useful chastisement proceeding -from the fatherly hand of God. But never let your sense of the need of -resignation lead you to attribute to the origination of God that which -Christ teaches us to have been brought into the world by God’s -adversary. Satan made these evils to lead men wrong; God uses them to -lead men right. Death, for example, came from Satan, who would fain make -us believe that our souls perish with our bodies, that friends are -parted for ever by the grave, and that there is no righteousness -hereafter to compensate for what is wrong here: but God uses death to -make men sober, thoughtful, steadfast, courageous, and trustful. It -remains with you to decide whether you will bear your evils so as to -succumb to the temptations of Satan, or so as to prevail over them and -utilize them to your own welfare and to the glory of God. On which side -will you fight? We ask you to enlist on the side of righteousness.” - -I feel sure that this theory of life would commend itself to the poor, -that it would be morally advantageous to the rich, and that it would be -politically useful to the State. There has been too prevalent a -habit—among those believers especially who ignore Satan and attribute -all things to God—of taking for granted that the social inequalities and -miseries of the lower classes which have come down to us from feudal and -non-Christian times, can never pass away. I remember once in my boyhood -how, when I represented to a farmer that the condition of his labourers -was not a happy one, he met me with a text of Scripture, “The poor shall -never depart out of the land;” and that seemed to him to leave no more -to be said. It is this provoking acquiescence of the comfortable classes -in the miseries of the suffering classes, which irritates the latter -into a disbelief of the religion that dictates so great a readiness to -see in the miseries of others a divinely ordained institution. - -The time will soon come (1885) when the very poor will demand a greater -share in the happiness of life; and the question will arise whether they -can be helped to obtain this by their own individual efforts or by the -co-operation of those of their own class, or by the State, or by the -Church. Caution must be shewn in trying experiments with nations; but as -some experiments will assuredly have to be tried, it is most desirable -in this crisis of our history that the Church at all events should -faithfully follow Christ by regarding physical evil, not as a law of -fate, but as a device of Satan. If, by descending a step or two lower in -the scale of comfort, the comfortable classes could lift the very poor a -step or two higher, the Church ought not to help the rich to shut their -eyes to their obvious duty by giving them the excuses of such texts as -“The poor shall never depart out of the land,” or, “Man is born to -trouble as the sparks fly upward.” Poverty is often a good school: but -penury is distinctly an evil; and the Church should regard it as an evil -not coming from God, and should make war against it, and teach the poor -not to acquiesce in it. The Gospel of Christ would be made more -intelligible to the poorer classes than it has been made for many -centuries past, if it could be preached as a war against physical as -well as moral harm. Such a crusade would call out and enlist on the -right side all the combative faculty in us; it would inspire in us a -passionate allegiance towards Christ, as our Leader, desiring, asking, -yes, and we may almost say, needing our help in a real conflict in which -His honour as well as our happiness and highest interests are at stake; -it would attract the co-operation of all faculties in the individual, of -all classes in the country. In other words the theory would work; and so -far as a religious theory works, so far have we evidence, present and -intelligible to all, that it contains truth. - -I have recently heard views similar to mine controverted by an able -theologian, who contended that, although they professed to be illogical, -they went beyond the bounds even of the illogicality permissible in this -subject. But the controverter’s solution of the problem was this: “_Evil -is a part of God’s intention._ We have to fight, with God, against -something _which we recognise to be His work_.” Is not this a “hard -saying”? Is it not harder than the saying of Christ, “An enemy hath done -this”? I say nothing about its being illogical and absurd: but does it -not raise up a new stumbling-block in the path of those who are striving -to follow Christ? - -It may be urged that the belief in Satan has been tested by the -experience of centuries and has been found to be productive of -superstition, insanity, and immorality; but these evils appear to me to -have sprung, not from the belief in Satan, but from a superstitious, -disorderly and materialistic form of Christianity, which has perverted -Christ’s doctrine about the Adversary into a recognition of a licensed -Trafficker in Souls. The same materialistic and immoral tendency has -perverted Christ’s sacrifice into a bribe. But, just as we should not -reject the spiritual doctrine of Christ’s Atonement, so neither should -we reject the spiritual doctrine of an Evil in the world resisting the -Good, although both doctrines alike have been grossly and harmfully -misinterpreted. - -Of course it is possible that in our notions of spiritual personality, -and therefore in our personification of Satan, we may be under some -partial illusion. The subject teems with difficulties; and I have not -concealed from you my opinion that some passages in the Old Testament -appear to support a view at variance with the tenour of the New. The -real truth, while justifying our Lord’s language, may not accord with -all our inferences as to its meaning; and I should myself admit that it -would be most disastrous to attempt to personify the Adversary with the -same vividness with which we personify the Father in heaven. Still,—in -answer to the taunt of the agnostic or sceptic, “Is this, or that, the -work of the God whom you describe as Love?”—I think we avail ourselves -of our truest and most effective answer, when we resolve to separate -certain aspects of Nature from the intention of God, and to say, with -Christ, “An enemy hath done these things.” - -Footnote 5: - - Some passages in the Old Testament (notably Isaiah xlv. 7) state that - God “created evil;” and results attributed by one author to Satan (1 - Chron. xxi. 1) are attributed by another to “the anger of the Lord” (2 - Sam. xxiv. 1). Much of course depends upon the meaning of the word - “evil;” and I am knowingly guilty of talking absurdly when I first - define evil as “that which is not in accordance with God’s intention,” - and then proceed to say that “God did not create evil.” But all people - who discourse philosophically on this subject talk far more absurdly - than I do: for I am consciously, but they are unconsciously, - illogical. The belief that God “created evil,” whether held or not by - the authors of any of the books of the Old Testament, is against the - whole tenour of the teaching of Christ. - -Footnote 6: - - “Naught is on earth, O God, without thy hand, - Save deeds of folly wrought by evil men.” - - - - - X - ILLUSIONS - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I see you are still violently prejudiced against illusions, that is to -say against recognising the very important part which they have played -in the spiritual development of mankind. You clearly believe that, -though the world may be full of illusions, Revelation ought to be free -from them. “The Word of God,” you say, “ought to dispel illusions, not -to add to them.” I maintain on the contrary, that the Word of God, if it -comes to earth, must needs come in earthen vessels; and that the most -divine truth must needs be contained in illusion. Let illusions then be -the subject of my present letter. At the same time I shall attempt to -answer your prejudice against the natural worship of Christ as being a -“new religion”. Not of course that I admit that it is a “new religion”; -on the contrary I regard it as the old religion, the predestined -God-determined religion to which we are to return after extricating -ourselves from the corruptions of Protestantism, as our forefathers -extricated themselves from the corruptions of Romanism. I shall not deal -here with the special illusions of Christianity, but with your evident -_a priori_ prejudice against any admixture of illusion with Revelation. - -But first, what do I mean by “illusion,” and how does my meaning differ -from “error” or “mistake” generally, and from “fallacy,” “delusion,” and -“hallucination” in particular? I say “my meaning,” because the word is -often used loosely (I do not say wrongly) for any of these synonyms: but -I restrict it to a special sense. - -“Illusion,” then, is wholesome error tending to the ultimate attainment -of truth; “delusion” is harmful error arising from a perverted -Imagination; “hallucination” is a wandering of the Imagination, without -any guidance or support of fact, involving “delusion” of the most -obstinate character; “fallacy” is an error of inference or reasoning; -“mistake” is the result of mal-observation or weak memory; and “error” a -general name for any deviation from the truth. - -Illusion, in many cases, is an exaggerative and ornative tendency of the -mind. It leads the very young to think their parents perfection, and the -young to think them far better and wiser than they really are; it -constrains the lover to exaggerate the beauty, accomplishments, and -qualities of the woman whom he loves; it tends to the distortion of -history by inclining all of us to accommodate facts to the wishes and -preconceptions of our idealizing nature, which is always longing for “a -more ample greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety -than can be found in the nature of things”;[7] and it lures us onward, -young and old alike, over the rough places of life, even to the very -brink of the grave, by the ever-fleeting, ever-reappearing suggestions -of a bright to-morrow that shall make amends for the dull and -commonplace to-day. - -These illusive hopes, beliefs, and aspirations are never fulfilled in -this life; but even the cynic and the pessimist must acknowledge, with -Francis Bacon, that they constitute the very basis of all poetry that -“tends to magnanimity and morality.” Those who believe in God will -further recognize in illusion a divinely utilized integument for the -preservation and development of aspirations that shall ultimately find a -perfect fulfilment in a harmonious co-operation with the divine Love and -in the unending contemplation of the divine Glory. Nor are illusions -without a present practical purpose. Men are more hopeful, more active, -more loving on account of them. On the other hand, even optimists must -acknowledge that no man should shut his eyes to the truth in order to -remain in what he knows to be no more than a comfortable error. The -venial illusions of childhood, youth, and ignorance, become unpardonable -or hypocritical in experienced age. Do you ask how we are to distinguish -“illusions” from “delusions”? The answer is easy—on paper; but, in -practice, often difficult to apply. However, the test is the same as -that by which we distinguish knowledge from ignorance. Illusions “work”; -that is to say, men are on the whole the better for them, and they -prepare the way for truth. Delusions fail; men are in no way the better -for them, and they often prepare the way for insanity and for physical -or spiritual death. - -We have spoken of moral illusions; let us touch on another kind of -illusions to which some (I do not say rightly) have given the name of -“illusions of sense.” - -I doubt whether the name is correctly given; for to me it seems that the -illusion proceeds not from the senses (which, as far as I can judge, -never deceive us) but from the imaginations and inferences which we base -upon the report of the senses. Take an extreme case, fit rather to be -called “delusion” than “illusion.” If I see the phantom of a cat before -the fire, which cat nobody else in the room can see, do my senses -deceive me? No; but I am deceived by the imaginative inference which -leads me to assume from past experience that the object which I see is -visible to, and can be touched by, everybody else. My visual sense -(which has to do with images only) reports—and can do no otherwise—that -it discerns the image of a cat. That report is true. But then my -imagination forces on me the belief that this is an ordinary tangible -and visible cat. That belief is false. Or take again the not infrequent -case of colour-blindness. I am a signalman, and cannot tell a green -light from a red: do my senses deceive me when I call a red light green? -No; my sense reports inadequately for my necessities, and coarsely is -compared with those who possess a finer sense of colour, but not -deceitfully. My error arises from having loosely and servilely used the -distinctive words “red” and “green” from childhood to manhood, although -my senses continually protested that they could not distinguish two -colours corresponding to the two words: but I imagined that there must -be some such distinction for the two, and that I must be capable of -recognizing it, because everybody around me recognized it. If we are to -say that the signalman’s senses deceive him we must be prepared to admit -that every man’s senses deceive him more or less. Do you suppose, when -you see anything, that you see that which the thing _is_? “This is a -yellowish-green,” say you. “Of course,” a Superior Being might reply; -“but which of the one hundred and fifty shades of yellowish-green is it? -You might as well tell me, when I shew you a sheep, ‘This is a _being_,’ -as tell me simply this is ‘yellowish-green.’” We do not see things as -Superior Beings see them; but we are not on that account to say that our -sight deceives us. Our visual sense reports the truth more or less -adequately: but our Imagination, prompted by insufficient experience and -inference, leads us sometimes to illusive conclusions. - -Still, although “illusions of sense” ought perhaps to be rather called -“illusions _from_ sense;”—_i.e._ illusions arising “from” the report of -the senses, but not illusions in which the senses are themselves -deceived—no one will deny that such illusions exist. Sometimes they are -exceptional, but sometimes so common as to be almost universal. Let us -enumerate a few and ask whence they spring, and what purpose they serve? - -They spring from a very strong conviction—erected upon the basis of -Experience by Faith, but absolutely necessary for healthy life and -spontaneous action—that the ordinary inferences which we almost -instinctively derive from the report of the senses, are true, that is to -say, will correspond to experience; and that we can act upon them -without formally reasoning upon them. - -Take the following instance. Shut your eyes, and get a friend to prick -the back of your hand with the two points of a pair of compasses -simultaneously, so that the two points may be about the eighth of an -inch apart when they touch you; you will feel—and if you could not -correct the inference by the sense of sight, you would infer—that only -one point is pricking you. The reason is that the skin of the back of -the hand only reports one sensation; and the mind leaps to the -conclusion—owing to the multitude of past instances where one sensation -has resulted from one object—that, in this instance also, one object -alone is producing the sensation. A more curious instance is the -following: Place the middle finger over the first finger, and between -the two fingers thus interlaced place a single marble or your nose: you -will appear to be touching two marbles or two noses. The reason is this: -when the two fingers are in their usual position (not thus interlaced) -and touching marbles or similar objects, two simultaneous sensations on -the right side of the right finger and on the left side of the left -finger would always imply _two_ marbles; now you have constrained the -two fingers to assume an unusual position where these two simultaneous -sensations can be produced by _one_ marble; but you, following custom, -would infer the presence of two marbles, if sight, or other evidence, -did not shew there was only one. - -But illusions from the sense of touch are far less common than illusions -from the sense of sight. We all know how a cloud or sheet or coal may be -converted by the Imagination into an image of something entirely -different and visible only to the imaginer, although he supposes that -others “must see it” too. But these are, so to speak, private illusions: -the great public and, at one time, universal illusion, was the -conviction that the sun and the stars move and that the earth does not -move. There is scarcely any illusion more natural than this. Our senses -give no indication whatever of the earth’s motion; but they do indicate -that the sun and the stars are moving. So complicated a process of -reasoning, and so much experience, are needed before a man can realize -(as distinct from repeating on authority) the causes for believing in -the earth’s motion that it is by no means surprising that, even now, -only a minority of the human race believe that they are dashing through -space at the rate of some thousands of miles an hour; and, except during -the last three hundred years, the illusion that the earth is at rest was -universal. Another common illusion from sight is that which leads us to -suppose that, when we see anything in the air, a straight line from our -eye towards the image which we see would touch the object itself: -whereas, in reality, the image is raised by refraction so that in misty -weather we see an object considerably higher than it is, and I suppose -(to speak with strict exactness) we never “see” an object precisely -where it is. - -I have mentioned a few of the “illusions from the senses”; and now you -will probably ask me what purpose they serve, how they can be called -“wholesome,” and how they “tend to the ultimate attainment of truth.” - -They appear to me to be “wholesome” because they represent and spring -from a wholesome belief that “Nature will not deceive us; Nature does -not change her mind; Nature keeps her promises.” Sent into the world -with but little of the instinctive equipment of non-human animals, we -are forced to supply the place of instincts by inferences from -sensation. Now if we were always obliged consciously to argue and -deliberately to infer, whenever the sensations hand over a report to the -Imagination, we should be at a great disadvantage as compared with our -instinct-possessing compeers, whom we call irrational. “This inkstand -which I see before me was hard yesterday, and the day before—but will it -be hard if I touch it to-day or to-morrow?”—if a child were to argue -after this fashion every time he reached out his hand to touch anything, -the life of Methuselah would be too short for the ratiocinations -necessary as a basis for the action of a week. For healthy progress of -the human being, trustful activity is needed, and for trustful activity -we must trust Nature, or, in other words, we must trust these -quasi-instinctive inferences about Nature which we derive from our -sensations. This trust or faith in the order of material things within -our immediate observation, I have already described as being the germ of -a trust or faith in a higher order altogether, that universal order, at -present imperfectly realized, which we call the Divine Will. - -Now when we say to Nature, “We trust you; you will not deceive us,” -Nature replies for the most part, “You do right; I will not deceive you; -you will be justified in your faith.” But occasionally she replies in a -different tone. - -“Yes, I have deceived you; you did not use the means you had of -obtaining the truth; therefore you deceived yourselves, or, if you -please to say so, I deceived you, in order that, after deceiving -yourselves by a prolonged experience, you might learn, while trusting my -order and permanence in general, not to trust every conception of your -own about that order and permanence in particular. - -“Yet in reality, what you call my ‘deceptions’ were, in part, the -results of your own defects (some blameworthy, some perhaps inherent and -not blameworthy), in part the results of my method of teaching mankind, -by line upon line and inference upon inference. How does a child gain -knowledge? By generalizing from too few instances: by inferring too -soon; then by enlarging the circle of instances from which he -generalizes; by correcting his inferences with the aid of experience: -thus the progress of every child towards truth is through a continuous -series of illusions. But when I break each one of your false and -rudimentary conceptions of my Order, I always reveal to you, concealed -in the husk of it, the kernel of a better conception. Thus while I teach -you daily to distrust your own hastily adopted and unverified -assumptions or inferences about my Order, I give you no cause to -distrust my Order itself; and by the self same act I strengthen both -your faculty of scientific reason and also your faith in me. You may -find fault with me that I did not bestow on each one of you, even in the -cradle, the perfection of all knowledge and wisdom. Deeper laws, deeper -than I can now speak of, forbade that rapid consummation: but, since -that could not be, since it needs must be that imperfection should be in -the intellectual, as well as in the moral, world, rejoice at least that -illusion is made subject to truth.” - -Well, after this long but needful account of “illusions,” in the sense -in which I use the term, let me now recur to your objection that “the -Word of God ought to dispel illusions, not to add to them.” I suppose -those who believe in a God at all, will in these days regard Him as the -Maker of the world, as a whole, in spite of the evil that is in it. Some -of the Gnostics, as you know, believed that the good God who had _not_ -made the visible world was opposed to the bad God who had made it; but -with them we need not at this time concern ourselves, as there are -probably none who now entertain that belief. Those then who believe in a -God, Maker of heaven and earth, will not deny that God partially reveals -Himself to men by the things He has made. Now by which of all His -creatures does God reveal Himself most clearly? You will say -perhaps—indeed I have heard you say it—“By the stars and their -movements.” I do not believe it. I say, “By the life of the human family -first and by the stars of heaven, second. But I will assume that your -answer is correct, and that God reveals Himself mainly by the movements -of the stars of heaven; and I will try to shew you that in this -revelation God leads men to truth through illusion. Then I think it must -seem reasonable to you that, if God does not dispense with illusion in -that intellectual revelation of Himself which most closely approaches to -a direct spiritual revelation, illusion may also have been intended or -permitted by Him to play an ordained part in spiritual revelation -itself.” - -Where, then, I ask, in all the teaching of Nature’s school, has there -been more of illusion than in her lessons of astronomy? When I was a -boy, I remember, in the midst of a hateful sum of long division that -would not come out right, devoting my attention to the sun moving -through the branches of certain trees, and announcing to my tutor that -“The sun moves.” “No, you are mistaken.” “But I cannot be mistaken, for -I saw it.” I rivalled—I exceeded—the obstinacy of Galileo; I was ready -to be punished rather than consent to say what seemed to me a manifest -falsehood, that the sun did not move. Surely this boyish experience -represents the experience of mankind, except that the tutor who has -corrected their astronomical illusions, has been their own long, very -long experience. Does it not seem sometimes as if God Himself had said, -when He made the heavens to declare His glory, “Being what they are, my -children must be led to knowledge through error, to truth through -illusion”? It may be said that in some cases men have fallen into -astronomical mistakes through their own fault; through haste, for -example, through the love of neat and complete theories, through -carelessness, through excessive regard for authority; and so indeed they -have. But is it always so? When you and I last walked out together on -Hampstead Heath, you took out your watch, as the sun went down over -Harrow, and said, “Now he’s gone, and it’s just eight.” I remember -replying to you, “So it seems; but of course you know he ‘went’ more -than eight minutes ago.” You stared, and I said no more; for something -else diverted your attention at the time, and I felt I had been guilty -of a little bit of pedantry. But I said quietly to myself as we went -down the hill, “I don’t suppose he knows it, but the sun certainly -‘went’ eight minutes ago; and what my young friend saw was an image of -the sun raised by the refraction of the mist, like the image of a penny -seen in a basin of water.” Well now, was this your fault, this error of -yours? No, it was, in the second place, the fault of the University of -Oxford, which has bribed the schools to desist from teaching mathematics -to any boy with a taste for classics and literature, so that you had to -give up your mathematical studies before you came to optics; and it was, -in the first place, the fault of—what shall I say? Shall I say the fault -of Nature? That means the fault of God. Say, if you like, that it was -the fault of Matter, or of an Evil principle. Say, it was no one’s -fault. Say that more good than harm results from it, in the way of -stimulating thought and research. Deny it was a fault at all. Yet do not -deny that it represents a Law, the Law of the attainment of truth -through illusion—a Law which it is folly to ignore. - -So far I have been going on the assumption that your answer was correct -as to the means by which God mainly reveals Himself. But now let us -assume that my answer, and not yours, is correct, and that God reveals -Himself mainly by the relations of the family. In that case we must -agree that each rising generation is led up to the conception of the -divine fatherhood mainly by the preliminary teaching of human -fatherhood. Now surely in the domestic atmosphere refraction is as -powerful and as illusive as in the material strata of the air. Nay, the -better and purer the family, the stronger is the illusion. Unloving -children may be logical and critical; but what loving child does not -idealise a good mother as perfectly good, and a strong wise father as -the perfection of wisdom and strength? To the good child the parents -stand in the place of God; and it is his illusive belief in these -earthly creatures, which, when it has been corrected and purified, is -found to have contained and preserved the higher belief in the eternal -Father. You see then that in the family no less than in science, in the -spiritual as in the intellectual side of Nature’s school, the pupils -pass upwards through illusion to the truth. - -I have promised to say nothing of the special illusions of Christianity -which I must reserve for a later letter. - -But let me say thus much from the _a priori_ ground on which we are now -standing, that _if_ illusions in Nature are most powerful in her noblest -and most spiritual teaching, then, so far from there being a prejudice -_against_ finding illusion in religion, _we ought on the contrary to be -prepared to find illusion most potent_ in the early stages of the purest -religion of all. Was ever people so illusively trained as the faithless -children of faithful Abraham, the rejected Chosen People? Is not the -Promised Land to this day a proverbial type of illusion? Do we not -recognize illusion in every age of Christian revelation? And if the very -Apostles of the Lord Jesus—so much I will here assume—had their -illusions both during, and after, the life of their Master; if the early -Christians had their illusions also concerning the speedy coming of -Christ; if in the Mediæval Church and in the later Roman Catholicism -there have predominated vast illusions about transubstantiation, the -powers of the priesthood, and the infallibility of the Pope; if the -Protestant Churches themselves have not been exempt from illusions about -the literal inspiration and absolute infallibility of the Bible; is it -not the mark of astounding presumption to suppose that for the Anglican -branch of the Reformed Church there should have been reserved a unique -immunity from an otherwise universal law? - -But possibly you think that the Gospels have been so long in our hands, -and the Christian religion so long in practice and under discussion, -that nothing new can now be said or thought about them? Just so Francis -Bacon, in 1603, expressed his conviction (the innocent philosopher!) -that there had at last come about a complete “consumption of all things -that could be said on controversies of theology.” Reflect a moment. How -long have the stars been with us “under discussion”? And how recent have -been our discoveries of the real truth about them! How recently have -these discoveries been even possible? In the same way the exact -criticism of the New Testament has only become recently practicable. The -subject matter and thought could of course be appreciated centuries ago, -and often perhaps by the simple-minded and unlearned as well as by the -subtle and profound theologian; though, even as to the thought of the -New Testament, I often think that we are greatly to blame if our -increased knowledge of history and psychology does not illuminate much -that was dark in its pages for those who had not our advantages. But we -are speaking of that kind of intellectual criticism which dispels -illusions; and for the purposes of the critical analysis of the First -Three Gospels, Bruder’s Concordance was as necessary as Galileo’s -telescope was for the discovery of Jupiter’s moons, or the thermometer -for the investigation of the laws of heat. Other influences have been at -work, as well as mere mechanical aids, to throw light on the central -event of the world’s history. And surely if Abraham could wait nineteen -hundred years for the coming of Christ, the spiritual descendants of -Abraham—for such we claim to be—may well wait another nineteen hundred -years to realize His nature and enter into the full meaning of His -worship. - -You see I am not now trying to prove the existence of any illusion in -our present form of Christianity; I am simply _arguing against your -prejudice_ that, if the present form of Christianity be not true, then -any new form must necessarily be false. You say, or perhaps till lately -you were inclined to say, “If I could only breathe the atmosphere of -Augustine! If only I could have been a companion of the Ante-Nicene or -(better still) of the Apostolic Fathers! Or (best of all) of the -Apostles! Or of Christ Himself! Then I should have been free from -illusions.” I reply, “No, you would not; and your aspiration is a mark -of ingratitude to God. You deliberately reject the commentary He has -given you in the History of the Church during these eighteen centuries. -You think the story of Christ is completely told and completely -explained. It is not so. All the created world is intended to bear -witness and illustration to His life and work. Shakespeare and Newton -and Darwin, as well as Origen, Augustine, and Chrysostom, have added to -the divine commentary. All the good and all the evil of eighteen hundred -years have borne witness to the divine nature of His mission; to the -impotence and ruin which await the nations that cast Him off; to the -blessing that attends those who follow His Spirit; to the mischief that -dogs those who substitute for His Spirit a lifeless code of rules or a -fabric of superstitions.” - -And now one last word as to the special illusion from which (in my -belief) we must in the short remnant of this century strive to deliver -ourselves. I think we have worshipped Christ too much as God, and too -little as Man. We have erroneously supposed that He exempted Himself -during His manhood from the laws of humanity. Like the Roman soldiers, -we have stripped from Him the carpenter’s clothes, and put upon Him the -purple rags of wonder-working imperialism, and placed in His hand the -sceptre of worldly ostentation, and in that guise we have bowed the knee -to the purple and the sceptre, and, doing homage to these things, we -have cried, “Behold our God.” But now the time has come when we must -take from off Him these tawdry trappings, and give Him back His -workman’s garments. Then we may find ourselves constrained to bow the -knee again in a purer homage offered no longer to the clothes but to the -Man. - -Call this homage by what name we will, it is already of the nature of -worship. And as we grow older and more able to distinguish the realities -from the mirage of life, more capable of trust, love, and reverence, and -better able to discriminate what must be, and what must not be, loved, -trusted, and revered—looking from earth to heaven, and from heaven to -earth, we shall ask in vain where we can find anything, above or below, -nobler, and better, and more powerful for good, than this Man to whom -our hearts go forth in spontaneous love and trust and reverence. Then we -shall turn once more to the Cross finding that we have been betrayed -into worship while we knew it not, and while we cry, “Behold the Man,” -we shall feel “Behold our God.” - -Footnote 7: - - _Advancement of Learning_, ii, 4, 5. - - - - - XI - WHAT IS WORSHIP? - - -MY DEAR ——, - -Admitting the doctrine of illusion, and dismissing all prejudice against -what is new, you declare that still my position remains absolutely -unintelligible to you. I will set down your objection in your own words: -“Apparently you maintain that Christ is a mere man who came into the -world, lived, worked, and died according to the laws of human nature; -even His resurrection you apparently intend to explain away till it -becomes a mere vision, and therefore not a sign of any other than a -human existence. Now worship is a tribute conceded to God alone. To a -mere man, who lived eighteen centuries ago, how can you force yourself, -by any effort of the will, to pay worship simply because you have reason -to believe that this individual was pre-eminently good”? - -In reply, I ask you, “What else is more worthy of worship?” There is no -question of “forcing myself” at all. I worship Christ naturally. That is -to say I love, trust, and reverence Him more than I love, trust, and -reverence any other person or thing or universe of things. This I do -because I cannot help it; and if I have brought myself to do this -naturally by fixing my thoughts on the power of Goodness, and on Christ -as the incarnate representation of Goodness, this causes me no shame and -involves me in no conflict with my Reason. - -But you—have you not omitted some important features in the description -of this “mere man”? Jesus was not only pre-eminently good, He was also -pre-eminently powerful and wise for spiritual purposes. His influence -regenerated the civilized world; it is manifest around us. He Himself -spoke of Himself in language which shews that He believed Himself to be -endowed with a divine authority over men, and to stand in a unique -relation to God. In a fanatic or a fool that would mean nothing: in one -so wise, so soberly wise, so utterly unselfish, so marvellously -successful, it must needs count for much. Although I reject the -miraculous, I do not reject—nor understand how any one can reject—the -supernatural. I regard Jesus as being a “mere man” indeed, if by “mere -man” you mean a “real man”; non-miraculous, subjected to all the -material limitations of humanity; but still a man such as is described -in the first chapter of the Fourth Gospel; the Word of God incarnate; -the Man in whom was concentrated God’s expression of Himself; the Divine -Perfection made humanly perceptible. This I believed once upon the -authority of the Fourth Gospel; but I believe it now on the testimony of -history and my own conscience. - -Put yourself in my place. Suppose, as I suppose, that Christ was what He -was, and did what He did, naturally and without miracles. Does not that -make His personality in a certain sense more wonderful and certainly -more lovable? It is comparatively easy, with miracles at command, to -persuade men to anything; but, without miracles, to introduce a new -religion, to bring in a new power of forgiving sins, to offer up one’s -life, not for friends, nor for country, but for mankind, to manifest -oneself so to one’s disciples during life that after your death they -shall see you and shall be convinced that you have triumphed over death; -to disarm an armed world by non-resistance, and to breathe a spirit of -enthusiasm for righteousness and a passionate love of mankind into -myriads of a remote posterity—these surely are feats which, if natural, -should make us exclaim, “Verily we have here a divine nature.” - -I trust I am not being goaded into any exaggeration of what I really -feel, by the hope of inducing you to share my feelings. Perhaps it is -not possible to worship any man, not even such a one as Jesus, as long -as he remains in the flesh. Not till death takes a friend from us do we -seem to know the real spirit that lay behind the flesh and blood; not -till Jesus was taken from us could that Spirit come which was to reveal -the real Being that underlay the humanity of the Nazarene. I will admit -that I should not have worshipped Jesus of Nazareth on earth—in Peter’s -house for example at Capernaum; for though love might have been present, -the trust and awe that were to be developed by His resurrection would -have been wanting. Jesus does not claim our worship nor even our -recognition, as an isolated being, but as inseparably linked to One -without whom He Himself said He could “do nothing”. It was not till He -was removed from the visible world and enthroned in the hearts of men by -the side of the Father, that men could perceive His real nature; and He -is to be worshipped not by Himself, but as the Son of God, and one with -God. Christ did not merely _tell_ us about the Father; He revealed the -Father _in Himself_; and, if we worship the Father as Christ revealed -Him, we are, consciously or unconsciously, worshipping the Son. - -Almost all language about all spiritual existences is necessarily -metaphorical. What is “righteousness” except a _straightness_, and what -is “excellence” except _pre-eminence_? The proposition “Christ is the -Son of God” is a metaphor; it is a metaphor to say that “God is our -Father in heaven,” and that “God is Love.” Perhaps even to say that “God -_is_” is a metaphor, expressing a truth, but expressing it inadequately. -But it would be the ignorance of a mere child to suppose that a metaphor -means nothing. There is no deeper truth in heaven or earth than the -metaphor that God is the Father of man, and that the Lord Jesus Christ -is His Eternal Son. When I try to think of God and to pray to God as my -Father, I can think of Him as being without the seas, without the stars, -without the whole visible world; but I can never think of Him aright, -nor ever conceive of Him as being Love, without conceiving also of One -whom He loves, who is with Him from the beginning; whom when I try to -realize, I can realize only in one shape; and hence it comes to pass -that I find myself without any “effort of the will,” spontaneously -worshipping God through, and in, and with, that one shape, I mean the -Lord Jesus Christ. Worshipping the Father I find that I have been -unconsciously worshipping, and must consciously continue to worship, the -Eternal Son. - -But there is another difference between us, besides your failure to -recognise the spiritual power and spiritual wisdom of Christ. You do not -know what you mean by worship; you do not know what you ought to -worship; and you do not know how little you know of God. - -You tell me that “worship is a tribute conceded to God alone.” But what -is God? The absolute God no one knows. Our most perfect conception of -Him is only a conception of a Mediator of some kind by which we approach -Him. To each man, that which he worships, and that alone, is God. I -worship Christ, therefore to me Christ is God. What will you say to -that? I suppose you will say “A non-miraculous Christ _ought not to be_ -God to you”? Why not? How does He differ from your conception of God? Is -He less loving, less merciful, less just? “No,” you reply, “but He is -less powerful.” “How is He less powerful? Has He less power of pitying, -loving, forgiving, raising men from sin to righteousness? Is He less -powerful in the spiritual world?” “Perhaps not; but He is less powerful -in the material world. He never, according to your account, rose above, -never even for a moment suspended the laws of nature.” Indeed? And God, -the Maker of the world—did He ever rise above, or suspend the laws of -nature? When? “Well, He is said to have done so frequently in the -records of the Bible”. But many men deny that, and you yourself are -disposed to agree with them. “At all events He did so when He made the -world.” - -Here at last we can come to an understanding. You look up to God as to -the Maker of the world, and are more ready to worship Him, as such, than -to worship a non-miraculous Christ. If by “the Maker of the world” you -mean—as I am quite sure many mean—“the Maker of the mere material forces -of Nature,” or even “the Maker of _all things apart from Christ_,” then -words fail me to express how entirely I differ from you. But let me try -to put your view into my own language, in order to shew you that I do -not condemn it without understanding it. “We cannot,” you say, “worship -a mere non-miraculous man, who did nothing but talk and lead a good -life, and perhaps perform a few acts of faith-healing, however -beneficial may have been his influence on posterity. The fact that, -after his death, visions of him were seen by excited and enthusiastic -followers, and in one case by an enemy of highly emotional tendencies, -cannot alter this decision. It is impossible to worship a being so -helpless, so limited, so aweless as this. What is such a creature in -comparison with the mysterious Maker of the stars or Ruler of the ocean? -Surely the sight of a storm at sea ought to suffice to turn any one from -the imaginary and self-deceiving worship of the merely human Jesus of -Nazareth to the worship of One whose greatness and glory and terror -surround us on every side with material witnesses, One in comparison -with whom no mere man may be mentioned.” - -Natural as such an argument may seem to you and to many others who call -themselves Christians, it is in reality based upon a diabolical -prejudice in favour of power. I can understand our forefathers, -worshippers of Thor and Odin, arguing thus; and so great is our own -inherited and inbred admiration of mere force, that even to us -Christians the temptation is still very strong to bow down before the -whirlwind and the fire, rather than before the still small voice. But it -is a temptation to be resisted and overcome. You call upon me to worship -the Ruler of the waves. Now the sea is full of the gifts of God to men; -yet if I knew nothing more of the Creator than that He had made and -rules the sea, then—with all the knowledge of the death and destruction -that reign beneath the depths of ocean among its non-human tenants, and -of the destruction that reigns on its surface when it wages war against -man and conquers—I should say, “So far as the sea alone reveals the -nature of Him who made it, I would a thousand times sooner worship Jesus -of Nazareth, the non-miraculous man, than the Maker of the ocean.” It is -the most vulgar and contemptible cowardice to cringe before the Maker of -the destroying ocean—who might be the Devil and not a good God, so far -as the ocean’s destructive power reveals its Maker—rather than to do -homage to the best of men. I grant that in a storm at sea, with the -lightning blinding my eyes, and the pitiless waters tearing my -companions from my side and threatening every instant to devour me—I -grant that I might, and should, feel tempted to exclaim, “A mightier -than Christ is here.” But if I did, I should be ashamed of it. It would -be a traitorous tendering of allegiance to Satan. When force and terror -and death come shrieking on the wave-crests, and proclaiming that “Power -after all is Lord of the world,” then is our faith tested; it is “the -victory of our faith” to overcome that lie and to make answer thus: “No, -Goodness is Lord over the world; Love is Lord over the world; and -therefore He who is one with Love and Goodness, the Lord Jesus Christ, -He is Lord over the world. Do with me as thou wilt, thou Mighty Maker of -all things! If Christ was not deceived, thou art His Father and I can -trust thee. But if Christ was deceived, then art thou Satan and I defy -thee, be thou the Maker of a world of worlds. Better to perish and be -deceived with Christ, than to be saved and caressed by a Maker who made -Christ to perish and to be deceived! If there be in truth any opposition -of will between the Maker and the Lord Jesus Christ, then is the Lord -Jesus the superior of the two; and in the Lord Jesus alone will I put my -trust, and to Him alone will I cleave as my Lord and my Saviour and my -God.” - -Have I made my meaning clear to you? I do not say, Have I persuaded you -that I am right? But have I made you understand that it really is -possible for one who has apprehended even imperfectly the illimitable -extent of the goodness of Christ and the divine nature of that goodness, -to feel heartily and sincerely that, of all things in heaven and earth -and in the waters under the earth, the goodness and power and wisdom of -God in Christ are the fittest objects for our love, our trust and our -reverence, in other words, for our worship? Can you name any fitter -object? If you will not worship God in the man Jesus, you will hardly -worship Him in Socrates, or Paul, or any other specimen of humanity. -Will you then turn to inanimate nature, and worship him in that? Then -you will be turning from the higher to the lower conception of God. -Before I knew Christ, I might perhaps have worshipped God the Maker, -being led to him, so to speak, by the world as Mediator. Inspired by awe -for the Creator of so vast and orderly a machine, I might have adored -Him as the artificer of the stars and this terrestrial globe. But now, -Christ has made this kind of “natural religion” impossible. He, the -ideal Man, has revealed to me depths of love, pity, mercy, -self-sacrifice, in comparison with which the ocean is but the “water in -a bucket,” and the stars of heaven are as “a very little thing.” If -therefore I try to conceive of God as alien and apart from Christ, God -becomes at once degraded and inferior to man. - -How shall I try to express myself more clearly? Let me use words not my -own, in which a man of recognized ability once summed up for me my own -conceptions; “I see,” he said, “you do not, as most do, worship Christ -out of compliment to God; you worship God out of compliment to Christ.” -The words then sounded to me a little profane, though they were not -meant to be so; but I had to confess that they exactly expressed my -meaning. Since then, it has seemed to me that these words were but an -incisive way of saying, what every one says and few realize, that Christ -is the Mediator between us and God: we worship God the Father because we -attribute to Him the character that we adore in God the Son. - -By this time you will have seen that while answering the question, -“Whom, or what, ought we to worship?” I have indirectly answered a -preliminary question, “What do we mean by worship?” You have also -probably noticed what answer I have given to this question: worship -appears to me a combination of love, trust, and awe. Do you accept this? -I have never seen any serious objection taken to this definition except -by those who refuse practically to define it at all and who would simply -say “Worship is the homage paid by man to the Creator: and it has -nothing to do with, and cannot be explained by, the feelings with which -we regard man.” If I had not seen this in the columns of a theological -journal, I should not have believed it possible that modern -superficiality and conventionalism could achieve quite so transparent a -shallowness. The sum total of our feelings towards God—more especially -our awe for Him—cannot indeed be adequately expressed in the same -language which expresses our feelings for men: but that is a very -different thing from saying that the former “have nothing to do with” -the latter. I believe that a large part of most men’s worship consists -of a shrinking from an Unknown, the sort of dread that children feel for -“the dark.” But righteous worship must imply other feelings; and these -feelings—some of them at all events—must have names; and whence are the -names to be derived but from our feelings towards men and things—towards -men, surely, as well as towards things? We must either love God, or hate -Him, or be indifferent to Him; we must either trust, or distrust Him. I -do not see how the people who would sever worship from all reference to -human relations can look upon it as other than a mere homage of the lips -or knees, a going to church, and attendance at religious services. Need -I say that, when I define worship, I am defining the worship of the -heart, not the attitude of those who honour God with their lips but -whose heart is far from Him? - -Now the attitude of man to God has varied greatly in accordance with -their conception of God, according as they have conceived Him to be -Moloch, or Apollo, or Jehovah, or the Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. -In some men worship has been mere terror; in some, it has been a desire -to bribe; in some it has been faint gratitude and strong admiration; in -some it has been intense awe and reverence. All such forms of worship -have been imperfect, and some have been very bad. At the best, none of -them have combined all the best and noblest feelings of aspiration which -Nature tends to develop in us by means of human and non-human agencies. -Human nature—acting through the relations of the family—should elicit -love and loving trust; non-human nature—acting through the seas and -skies, with their suggestions of vastness and power—should elicit awe -and awful trust; and the combination of these two natural influences -should elicit love, trust and awe, which three-fold result constitutes -worship. - -Has the worship of God through the mediation of Christ entirely -superseded—was it intended to supersede—the worship of God through the -mediation of the visible World? I think not yet. It will in the end but -not now. There may come a time, in some future existence, when we shall -see righteousness like the sun, when we shall have visions of the beauty -and order of holiness like the stars, and behold the glory of sacrifice -spread out before our eyes like the firmament of heaven; and then the -revelation of God through visible Nature will be swallowed up in the -revelation of God through invisible Nature. But now, not many of us can -pretend to such a power of spiritual insight. We feel that, if we -learned the story of Christ without the help of the commentary of the -awful powers of material nature, we might be in danger of repeating it -with a glib familiarity which would hinder us from penetrating its -meaning. Those who live in the stir of cities where they are doomed -never to be alone, never to realize perfect silence, never to see more -than a few square feet of sky, are living as the Word of God did not -intend them to live; they may have—they often have—great spiritual -compensations; they certainly have some spiritual disadvantage in these -unnatural negations. As long as we have eyes and ears and the faculties -of wonder and admiration, so long must we suppose that the revelation of -the Word of God through Jesus of Nazareth has not dispensed with the -revelation of the Word of God through the forces of material nature. If -we wish to approach God we should not despise the Mediation of the Word -of God in its entirety, that is to say, the mediation of “the World with -Christ.” - -Now what practical inferences follow from our definition of worship, if -we are satisfied that it is roughly true? Here let me put in a caution. -Our definition cannot be exactly true; for, in its exactness, worship -means the sum total of all the feelings that should be felt by the mind -of man, when he contemplates God through the mediation of “the World -with Christ.” Who can enumerate these without confessing that he may -have passed over some so subtle and so deep that language itself has -left them unnamed? We must therefore be content with a rough definition. -But if it be roughly true that worship means love, trust and awe, what -practical inferences may we thence deduce as regards our own conduct? - -First, then, worship is not the formal thing it is generally supposed to -be. It is not a mere smoothness of the hinges of the knees, or a -readiness to take the name of God within one’s lips. It is a natural -going forth of the heart to that which one loves, trusts, and reverences -most. Some men have little power of reverencing; others, of trusting; -others, of loving; such men’s worship must necessarily be maimed and -imperfect. If a man who is destitute of reverence loves and trusts money -more than anything else, money really is that man’s God; it is no -hyperbole, it is the fact; the man does actually worship money; he does -not say prayers to it, does not go down on his knees to it, but he loves -it and trusts it more than anything else; therefore, so far as he can -worship anything, he worships money. Similarly another man worships -pleasure; another, his children; another, power. We are accustomed to -apologize for such expressions as if they were metaphors or -exaggerations; but they are not; they are plain statements of spiritual -realities. Thousands of men who say they worship Christ, and who -honestly suppose they worship Christ, do nothing of the kind. This is -the dark side of the self-delusion of worship, but there is a brighter. -There are many men at the present day who call themselves agnostics, but -who would hardly deny that they love and reverence Jesus of Nazareth -more than any other being. They worship Him then. Their worship is -tinged with hopelessness, and therefore imperfect; but so far as it -goes, it is a genuine worship of Christ. Perhaps, too, some who profess -mere Theism feel, in their hearts, that though they dislike to say they -worship Christ, they love Christ more than they love their conception of -“God without Christ;” if so, may we not say that, so far as that element -of love goes, they worship Christ? Thousands of thousands of people, -before Christ was born, worshipped Goodness and a good God in their -lives and hearts, though they were, in name, worshippers of Apollo or -Moloch. Thousands of people in the same unconscious way have been, and -still are, worshipping the Incarnate Christ. They may not acknowledge -this, they may not even know it: but their hearts have gone out to Him -in love and trust and awe, more than to any other person or thing in -heaven or earth.[8] - -Search your own soul and acknowledge how little you know of God; I do -not mean how little you profess to know, but how little you really know; -how very much of what you think you know, is but second-hand knowledge, -scraps of sayings repeated on authority, but not representing any -heartfelt faith. Then—after deducting all the verbiage that you once -esteemed a part of your own belief—take the poor residuum of your -conception of the Godhead, and put it by the side of your conception of -the Word of God incarnate in Christ, making some faint attempt at the -same time to realize the stupendous life and character of Jesus. Then -ask yourself in what respects the former conception differs from the -latter for the better. Lastly ask yourself what you mean by worship—not -lip-worship, or knee-worship, but the worship of the heart; and whether -your heart does not go out in heart-worship as much towards the latter -as to the former of these two conceptions. If you will do this fairly -and honestly, my only fear would be that you might find that your -conception of God Himself was too weak to retain its grasp on you; but -if God still held His place in your heart, then I should feel confident -that Christ would sit enthroned by His side, as being the Son without -whom the Father could not be known, worshipped in virtue of a claim -which no mere performance of miracles could establish, and which no mere -non-performance of miracles could invalidate. - -The sum is this. In Nature there is evil as well as good. I cannot -therefore worship the Author of _all_ Nature, but must worship the -Author of _Nature-minus the evil_. Where is He to be found? He is -revealed in what we recognize to be good, true, and beautiful. Now no -one man can include in his life all that we mean by scientific truth, -and artistic beauty, as well as moral goodness. But, truth being a -harmony, there is no deeper and nobler truth than the harmony of a human -will with the will of the Supreme; and, beneath perishable artistic -beauty, there is an eternal beauty to be discerned in righteousness. It -ought not therefore to surprise us that the Eternal Word, after -endeavouring for thousands of years to lead creation up from the worship -of Power to the worship of Goodness, should at last take upon Himself -the form of a creature, conspicuously powerless from the world’s point -of view, ignorant of science, and destitute of outward beauty, but of a -goodness so divinely beautiful and so true to the Underlying Laws of -spiritual Nature, that when He held out His arms and called upon -wandering mankind to come to Him, the enlightened conscience of humanity -sought refuge in His embrace. - -Footnote 8: - - It is a strange but common mistake to expect a purer morality from a - conventional Christian than from a heathen or an atheist. One ought to - expect less, much less. The man who can be familiar with the - character, and acknowledge the claims, of Christ, without really - loving Him or serving Him, and who can believe all that the Church - teaches _about_ Him, without at all believing _in_ Him, must surely be - far below the atheist who now and then does a good turn for humanity, - out of mere pity and without the least hope of any ultimate triumph of - goodness. For my part, I am quite surprised at the apparent goodness - of conventional Christians: but I think they are not so good as their - actions would imply. They are forced, by tradition and the example of - a few, to keep up an artificial standard of morality in some - departments of life. - - - - - XII - THE WORSHIP OF CHRIST - - -MY DEAR ——, - -Your letter of yesterday raises two objections, which I will do my best -to meet. First, if I regard Christ as God, I ought not, you think, to -stumble at the miracles, but to welcome, and even to require, them; and -secondly, you are not satisfied with my definition of worship. Let me -deal first with your first objection, restating it in your own words. - -“I admit,” you say, “that Jesus, even without miracles, would be worthy -of worship in your sense of the word; but that is not the same thing as -regarding Him as the Eternal Son of God, the Creative Word. I agree with -Plato that there is nothing more like God than the man who is as just as -man may be; but you demand more of me than this; you wish me to regard -Him not as being merely ‘_like_ God’ but as ‘_being_ God,’ ‘very God of -very God.’ Surely you must therefore admit that Jesus was exceptional, -and not ‘in the course of nature;’ and the introduction into the visible -world of such an exceptional and supernatural Being surely makes it -antecedently probable, if not necessary, that He would bring with Him -some quite exceptional phenomena in the way of evidence. The Miraculous -Conception and Resurrection of Christ’s Body (if only they were true) -would supply just the requisite evidence that Jesus was the Creative -Word, Lord over the issues of life and death. If the creative Power of -God, no less than the Righteousness and the Love of God, was incarnate -in the person of Jesus, it would have been no less manifest in His life -and works. But you desire to reduce Him to a being in no way -distinguishable from other men except by superior moral excellence. -There is, it seems to me, no logical connection between moral excellence -and creative power. The two attributes, being generically different, -demand different kinds of evidence to substantiate them. - -“Again,” you continue, “even if I put aside your contention that Jesus -is the Word of God, there remains your assertion that He is sinless. Now -a sinless Jesus is, in Himself, a miracle; and if you call on me to -believe that Jesus was without sin, you ought to see no antecedent -improbability, nay, you ought to see an antecedent probability, that He -would work miracles.” - -Well, I feel that we are walking in a slippery region—this land of -antecedent metaphysical probabilities; but I will try to follow you. Let -me take your second objection first. Does it then really seem to you no -less antecedently probable that the Word of God, made man, should have -the power (say) of walking on water, than that He should be sinless? -Surely we see in the best men approximations to sinlessness, but no -approximations at all to what spiritualists (I believe) call -“levitation”! In proportion as men approximate to our conception of God, -in that proportion they are free from sin, but they do not “levitate;” -hence, while we are led to believe that the Man who completely -represents God (the Word of God Incarnate) will be absolutely sinless, -we are led to no such conclusion as to “levitation.” Or will you -maintain that the best men shew any germ of any the least power to -suspend any the least law of nature? There is no vestige of any such -tendency around us; and your only support for such a belief would be -found in the miracles of the Old Testament, which you yourself deny, and -as to which I shall have something to say in a future letter. - -I admit however that there is one seeming argument derived from the -“mighty works” of healing undoubtedly worked by the disciples of Jesus -as well as by Jesus Himself. Without anticipating a subject that must be -deferred to a future letter, I will merely ask you at this stage to -distinguish between those “mighty works” on the one hand which were -marvellous but not miraculous, and the “miracles” on the other hand -which, if true, involved suspensions of the laws of nature. That Jesus -may have healed certain diseases through faith, would be acknowledged by -the most sceptical physiologists as quite possible in accordance with -the laws of nature; and this power would be consistent with such a -faith-inspiring personality as we attribute to our Lord. Even from -ordinary men and women there “goes out virtue,” we scarcely know how, to -the sick and suffering who are imbued with their hopefulness, their -cheerfulness, their faith; much more might we suppose that from the -Ideal of Humanity “virtue” would probably go forth in unique measure and -produce unique results, though always in accordance with those laws of -material nature to which He had submitted Himself. But this is no -argument for real “miracles”; and—even while arguing—I protest against -this method of arguing about facts, from metaphysical “antecedent -probability.” I do not object to the argument from “antecedent -probability” where you can appeal to experience and argue from what -happened in the past to what is likely to happen in the future. But -where you can have no such evidence (because the Son of God was not -twice incarnate); where the question is, “Did Jesus do this or did He -not?” and where we have history and evidence to guide us, as to what He -did and said; it seems to me we ought to be guided by evidence and not -by “antecedent probabilities,” especially when these “probabilities” are -derived from nothing but metaphysical considerations. - -But you tell me that you see “no logical connection between moral -excellence and creative power;” and another passage in your letter says -that “we have no reason for thinking that the best men shew any tendency -to approximate, in creative power, to the co-eternal Word.” What do you -thence infer? Apparently this, that, as Christ revealed God’s -righteousness and love by His own righteousness and love, so He must -have revealed God’s creative power by His own creative acts. I, too, -believe that. But by what creative acts? By changing water into wine, or -seven loaves into seven thousand loaves, or three fishes into three -thousand fishes? Think of it seriously. Do these two or three abrupt and -dislocated achievements appear to you adequately to represent the quiet, -gradual, orderly, creative power of the true Word of God, by whom the -heavens were made? For my part I see a noble meaning in your words, but -the meaning I see in them is not what you mean. It was necessary—so far -I agree with you—that the Incarnate Word should manifest God’s creative -Power as well as His Love and Righteousness. But how? Can you not answer -for yourself without my prompting? Does not your own conscience suggest -to you what is the highest effort of creative power? Are we not -taught—and do not our hearts respond to the teaching—that God is a -Spirit? And, if God is a Spirit, must not the highest kind of creation -be, not material, but spiritual? - -Now I maintain that it is a greater, more sublime, and more God-like act -to create righteousness in accordance with God’s spiritual laws than to -create loaves and fishes and wine against God’s material laws. And I -maintain also—in opposition to your opinion—that “the best men” _do_ -manifest “a tendency to approximate in creative power to the co-eternal -Word,” so far as concerns this, the highest kind of creation. It is -hard, very hard, for us to realize—in spite of the teaching of the -prophets in old times and of the great English poets in our own -days—that the creation of the heaven and the earth is “a very little -thing, a drop of a bucket,” as compared with the creation of -righteousness. It is a desperate struggle, this battle of the spirit -against matter, of the invisible against the visible, before we can -believe, with all our being—with our minds as well as our hearts—that -the creation described in the first chapter of the Fourth Gospel was -more divine than that described in the first chapter of the Book of -Genesis. But it was so. The first creation of orderly matter was but a -shadowy, unsubstantial metaphor, predicting the second creation of -orderly spirit. “All things were made by him, and without him was not -anything made that was made:” so writes the Evangelist, describing the -first, and proceeding to describe the second, creation: and he continues -thus, “In him was life, and the life was the light of men.” To the same -effect writes St. Paul: “The first Adam became a living soul. The last -Adam became a life-giving spirit.” Is it not possible, on the testimony -of one’s own conscience, and on the testimony of history present and -past, and on the testimony of the Apostles and Evangelists—even when -critically reviewed and disencumbered of the miraculous element—to -acknowledge that Jesus has been indeed “a life-giving Spirit” to -mankind, and to worship Him as representing the Creative Word who has -moved on the face of the material and of the spiritual waters, creating -order alike in the matter of the Universe and in the minds and -consciences of men? - -And now to deal with your second objection (directed against my -definition of worship) which I will repeat in your own words:—“You -define worship as consisting of the sentiments of love, trust, and awe. -I confess this does not express _all_ my notion of worship. Such -sentiments I have felt towards my teachers, whether dead or living, but -I do not consider that I worship them. When we apply the word to God, we -mean by it a direct act of communion—or at least a real effort after -communion— between two minds. When I pray to God, I believe myself to be -directing my thoughts towards a Being with whom I am spiritually in -direct and immediate relation—the Maker of all, _my_ Maker and Father. -But I cannot persuade myself that I stand in a like relation to Jesus of -Nazareth. We do not pray to Paul or Plato, and I do not see any such -difference in the historical manifestations of Jesus as should lead me -to believe that I, and millions of other believers, can make my thoughts -known to him, and can receive back impressions from him, when we cannot -do so to other minds which have helped to change the world’s history and -have been revealers of the Father.” - -Are you not here confusing a state of mind with an action resulting from -that state of mind? We have been speaking, not of lip-worship, but of -heart-worship, defining it as a state of mind. Now is not prayer the -result of worship, rather than identical with worship, as we have -defined it above? A child feels love, and trust, as well as reverence, -for its parents; and, in consequence he asks them to grant his desires, -or he thanks them for kindnesses; but yet the asking and thanking are -not identical with the feelings of the children towards their parents, -but spring from those feelings. Similarly we, feeling a trust and an awe -for the Maker and Father, far beyond what we can feel for Paul or Plato, -impart to Him our petitions for our highest needs, or offer Him our -thanks: but this asking and this thanking are not identical with, but -the results of, the feelings we entertain towards God. What you really -mean is that your love, trust, and awe towards God so far transcend -those corresponding feelings when entertained by you for your -fellow-creatures, that you ask from Him things which you would never -dream of asking from them. Moreover you consider (rightly or wrongly) -that a dead or absent man cannot enter into communion with you, but that -God is superior to death and to the limitations of space, and that He -alone can always hear and always answer; and this you appear to think a -non-miraculous Christ cannot do. - -Well, here I confess there is a vast difference between us; for I feel -sure that Christ can do this. You say, I do not “pray to Paul and -Plato:” I do not, though I sometimes think that it would be better to -pray to Paul or Plato than to the sun or moon. But I do not find Paul, I -do not find Plato, claiming power to forgive sins; or declaring that he -came to die for mankind and that his blood was to be shed for the -remission of sins; or predicting that he should be slain and that he -should rise from the dead; or promising that whatsoever his disciples -asked from the Father in his name should be performed; or promising to -give his disciples, after his death, a spirit, the Holy Spirit of the -Father, which should enable them to resist all adversaries after he had -left them; or, in other words, making a manifest preparation to prepare -his disciples for his death on the ground that after death he would -still be present with them and still their guide and helper. Now even -when I set aside the Fourth Gospel, and eliminate all miraculous -narrative from the first three Gospels, I find myself in the presence of -One who, I am convinced, both said these things, and made them good in -deeds. I am penetrated with the conviction that He said them and had a -right to say them; and that this is proved by literary and historical -evidence, and by the history of the Church, and by my own experience. -The miracles I can easily disentangle from the life of Christ; but His -divine claims to be our Helper and Saviour after death and to all -eternity, I cannot. Accepting them, I can neither deny Him worship nor -myself the right of access to Him in prayer. - -Christ’s whole life and doctrine, His plan (so to speak) for the -establishment of spiritual empire over the hearts of men, appear to me -imbued with divinity; but if I were forced to choose some one particular -discourse or incident in His life as a reason for my adoration of Him, I -should not choose any of His mighty works of healing, nor any of His -parables or discourses, nor even His death upon the cross: I should -point to the institution of the Lord’s Supper. As the years pass over my -head, the picture of that mysterious evening becomes more and more -powerful and vivid with me and more and more inexplicable unless Jesus -was verily the Life of the world. It is ten times more vivid and more -powerful now than it was when I believed in a miraculous Jesus. When I -kneel down at the altar-rails there rises up through the distance of -eighteen centuries that strange scene in the guest-chamber at Jerusalem, -where Jesus portioned out His flesh and blood, bequeathing Himself to -His disciples for ever. Then follows the thought of the countless -myriads of souls who have derived spiritual strength from this rite and -have lived again in Christ, and I say to myself, “Truly God was in the -self-doomed man who thus gave us His flesh and blood for mankind. A mere -man devise so strange a rite! So (at first) repellently strange! so -profoundly simple! so perfectly and spiritually successful!” I solemnly -protest to you that the inexpressible depth of the divine intuition -which found utterance in the Lord’s Supper, impresses me more and -more—far more than all the miracles put together—as a proof that we have -in Christ a Being in initial and fundamental harmony with the very -source of our spiritual life; and, rationalist though I am, I find -myself, nevertheless, praying naturally and spontaneously after this -fashion: “Master, my only true Lord and Master, grant that I may feed on -thy body and be quickened by thy blood, and live in thee a new and -spiritual life! Thou One Forgiver of sins, thou Bearer of all the -burdens of mankind, bear Thou the burden that I cannot bear, and blot -out all my offences; Thou who sittest at the right hand of the Majesty -on high, lift me in thyself even to the throne of heaven, and present me -to the Father as His child! Thou who didst die in the flesh and rise -again in the spirit never to die, rise thou in my heart and soul; take -my whole being into thyself and cause Me there to die unto sin and to -live with thee unto righteousness! Grant me eternal life, thou Lord of -Life! Say within my soul, ‘Let there be righteousness,’ and there shall -be righteousness! Create me anew, O Lord, thou ever-living, co-eternal -Word of the Creator.” - -You may object that many of these prayers, with slightly different -wording, might equally well be addressed to the Father through the Son. -They might, and, as a rule, they probably would be so addressed. But in -moments of unusually deep emotion prayers of this kind go forth I think, -more naturally to the Father in the Son than to the Father through the -Son; and surely your very objection, and my answer to it, shewing that -prayers may be indifferently addressed to the Father or to the Son, -constitute a strong argument for the unity (in the heart of the person -praying) of Son and Father. And if I can pray like this, do I not -worship, must I not worship, Christ as the Creative Word, the Eternal -Son of God? And is there anything to prevent me from praying like this -in the fact that He to whom I pray, when He received our humanity, -received it in truth and honesty, with all its material limitations? - - - - - XIII - WHAT IS NATURE? - - -MY DEAR ——, - -Desiring to approach the subject of miracles, you ask me whether I do -not accept the following sentence as a statement of my views concerning -nature: “The Universe is perennially renewed and created afresh by an -active energy of the Spirit of God, and what we call ‘laws of nature’ -are the mode in which our limited minds are enabled to apprehend the -working of Creative Power.” If I accept it, you declare you cannot -understand why I should stumble at miracles. “It is a matter of -every-day experience,” you say, “and natural, that the human will should -suspend the laws of nature, as for example by arresting the motion of -gravitation; and consequently it seems unreasonable for you, or for -other believers in a personal God, to be scandalized if He also now and -then permits Himself the same liberty.” - -I accept your statement, so far as concerns the perennial energy of the -Spirit of God upon the material and immaterial Universe; but I do not -quite agree with the thought, or perhaps I should say with the -expression, of the last part of your sentence—“the mode in which our -limited minds are enabled to apprehend the working of Creative Power.” I -should prefer to call the Laws of Nature “a revelation of Himself by God -to men, on the recognition of which our very existence depends.” The -Laws of Nature are indeed nothing but ideas of our own Imagination; but -they appear to me, more or less, true ideas, through which God has -revealed Himself to us as a God of Law and Order. I believe in the -fixity of natural Law as much (I think) as the man of science does; I -reverence a Law of Nature, not as a result of necessity, but as an -expression of God’s will. But your own remarks about the ordinary -“suspension of the law of nature by the human will” appear to me to -imply a little confusion of thought arising from a confused use of the -word “nature” in two or more senses. On this point therefore I should -like to say a few words. - - - Nature - - -i. _Nature sometimes means the ordinary course of things apart from us -and from our intervention_; as when we say that “_Nature_ looks gay”—an -expression which we might use of fields and even of a not too artificial -garden, but not of a city or a street. - -In this sense it may be occasionally applied to the ordinary course of -things in our own bodily frame, so far as it goes on without our -deliberate intervention; as when a physician tells a fussy patient to -cease from medicining himself and to “let _Nature_ take its course.” - -ii. _Nature sometimes means the ordinary course of things in ourselves, -not in our bodies but in some other part of us, but still apart from our -deliberate intervention_; as when we say that “_Nature_ impels us to -avoid pain, to preserve our lives, to cherish our children, to love and -revere our parents, and to seek the esteem and friendship of our -neighbours.” - -But sometimes in human beings one “natural” impulse is opposed by -another: as when the desire to preserve one’s life is opposed by the -desire to gain the esteem of one’s neighbours. When these two conflict, -which is to be called the more “natural”? - -The answer will be different, according as we use the word “natural” in -the sense of “ordinary” or “orderly.” One class of natural impulses, -which may be called selfish or self-regarding, is perhaps more -_ordinarily_ predominant; another class, those which regard the good of -others, contributes more to the progress and _order_ of society. In the -individual, as well as in society, the former or “ordinary” impulses, if -unchecked, often tend to excess of passion, and what we call mental -“disorder”; the latter (which are seldom in excess) tend to self-control -and a well-ordered mind. In the former sense, it is more “natural,” -because more “ordinary,” to laugh when we are tickled, or to seize food -when we are hungry, than to die for our country or to provide food for -our children; but, in the latter sense, the nobler actions are more -“natural” because more in accordance with order. - -What do we mean by a well-ordered mind? We mean one in which the Will -does not at once yield to the impulses from the things which seem -nearest to ourselves; in which the Imagination vividly presents to us -the wants of our neighbours as well as our own; in which the Reason -states what can be said for and against each proposal, and the -Conscience finally decides the course to be taken. Here then we see an -entirely new notion of Nature, at least so far as man is concerned; a -course or order of things no longer apart from human intervention, but -entirely dependent upon the supremacy of the Will and Conscience aided -by Reason and Imagination: and hence we are led to a double definition -of human Nature as follows:— - -iii. _Human Nature means, sometimes the ordinary, sometimes the orderly, -course of human things._ - -Even as to non-human Nature we sometimes find a popular tendency to -call, or think “unnatural,” some phenomena which strike us as being -contrary to the general order and beneficence of things: and hence we -are less fond of saying that Nature prompts the cat to torture the mouse -or the moth to fly into the flame, than that she implants in the animal -race the parental instinct to protect the young. I confess I sympathize -with this tendency, and with all those who in their hearts look upon -death and pain as being contrary to the ideal order of things and -ultimately destined to be destroyed. But for the present, apart from -sentiment, let us simply note the fact that in our popular language we -sometimes say that it is the nature of a clock to indicate the right -time, but sometimes that it is its nature to deviate from the right -time: whence we deduce the conclusion that:— - -iv. _The Nature of a thing means sometimes its object, sometimes its -custom._ - - - Laws of Nature - - -Many of those unbroken sequences of phenomena around us, which have been -most frequently observed, have been made the subject of the Imagination -and have received an imaginative name. When we find Nature, upon an -invariable system, dealing out rewards for one course of action and -penalties for another, there is suggested to us the thought of a great -Lawgiver laying down laws and affixing rewards for obeying, and -penalties for disobeying. Hence the sequences of natural phenomena have -been called “Laws of Nature.” - -Every action of every moment of our lives is performed for the most part -in the instinctive and unconscious confidence that Nature will not -deceive us by breaking her Laws: and hence they might, from another -point of view, be called “Promises of Nature,” or “Expressions of the -Will of Nature;” but “Law of Nature” has been selected—not perhaps -altogether happily—as suggesting something more fixed and definite than -even the Promises or Will of the Maker of the world. - -_Law of Nature is a metaphorical name for a frequently observed sequence -of phenomena (apart from human Will), implying; to some minds, -regularity; to others, absolute invariability._ - - - Suspension of Laws of Nature - - -Does human Will ever suspend a Law of Nature? - -I am standing, we will suppose, under a tree in autumn. If a leaf -flutters down and rests upon my head, the Law of gravitation is no more -suspended by my Will, than if it rests upon some intercepting bough. The -result of the Law is modified; downward motion is replaced by downward -pressure: but the Law itself is not suspended. - -But if, upon the command of a man, the leaf were arrested in mid air and -remained immovable for an hour together, and if I were led to the -conclusion that this was effected by no force which I could conceive as -being consistent with the ordinary course of Nature and with the -limitations of human power, then I should be obliged to say that the Law -of gravitation, in this particular instance, did not work. Using a -metaphor, I might say that the Law was “suspended,” and the phenomenon -itself I should call a miracle. - -In reality the true explanation might be quite different. It is -conceivable that an extraordinary man, once in a thousand or once in ten -thousand years, might be endowed with the power of arresting the motion -of a stone in the air, without the intervention of the body and by the -mere exercise of Will; and this might be done by him as easily, as -regularly, and (for him) as naturally, as we ordinary men stop a stone -in the air by the exercise of Will acting upon our bodily machinery. In -that case gravitation would still act, pressing the stone, so to speak, -upon an invisible hand: and the explanation would be, not that the Law -was suspended, but that the results of the Law were uniquely modified by -the peculiar action of a unique human nature, in the same way in which -they are commonly modified by the regular action of an ordinary human -nature. This, I say, is conceivable. Yet if we find (1) in past history, -a general tendency to believe in miracles on very slight evidence; (2) -in the present time, a general and, as many think, a universal -refutation of the evidence on which miracles have been accepted; (3) an -increasing power of explaining many so-called miracles in accordance -with natural Laws—it becomes our obvious duty to regard miraculous -narratives with a very strong suspicion until cogent evidence has been -produced for their truth. - - - The Action of the Will - - -Hitherto we have been considering the action of the Will upon external -Nature; but now what as to the action of our Will upon our own Nature, -upon the machinery of our own body? Is that to be called a Law of Nature -or a suspension of a Law of Nature? - -It is to be called neither. Our definition of “Law of Nature” was “a -metaphorical name given to the ordinary course of things _apart from the -intervention of human will_:” consequently the action of human will -(about which we are now speaking) is expressly excluded from the -province of Nature, in this sense, and can neither be called “a Law of -Nature,” nor a “suspension of a Law of Nature.” The action of the Will -falls under the head of “human Nature;” and, discussing it under that -head, we may call it by any metaphor we please, a custom, habit, law of -human Nature. - -This distinction between the name given to the course of non-human -Nature and the name given to the action of the human Will on the bodily -framework, is based on our distinction between the regular and (if I may -use the word) the anticipable sequences of the former, as contrasted -with the irregular and unanticipable sequences of the latter. When the -Will is undeveloped or enfeebled; when the human being is a baby, or one -of an excited and undisciplined crowd, or mad, or drunk, or -narcoticized, or mesmerized, or reduced to the bestial level by some -overpowering instinct; we can occasionally prophesy his actions or -movements with something of the certainty and accuracy with which we -predict the motions of a machine; but we cannot thus calculate the -actions of a mature, healthy, and reasonable man. Hence it has been -usual to contrast with the “Laws of Nature” the “freedom of the human -Will.” We cannot demonstrate the freedom of the Will any more than the -fixity of the Laws of Nature: the belief in both is suggested by -Imagination, tested and approved by Experience and Reason, and finally -retained by Faith. Of course, when I speak thus, you will not suppose -that I assume that my mind, or being, is divided into distinct parts (as -the body consists of distinct limbs) called Will, Reason, &c.: you will -understand that I merely use the ordinary brief and convenient -phraseology which says “The Will does so-and-so,” meaning “I do -so-and-so with a certain consciousness which appears to me to result -from a faculty inherent in me of choosing between two or more courses of -action, which faculty I call Will.” With this precaution, I assert that -the action of the Will is natural as regards human Nature, but outside -Nature or “extra-natural” as regards non-human Nature, and that it does -not involve the suspension of what are technically called “the Laws of -Nature.” - -It is thus shown that the human Will acts directly on the human body in -accordance with the Laws of human Nature, and that it does not interfere -with the external world except indirectly, through the body, in -accordance with the Laws of Nature (as technically defined). There is -nothing therefore in the action of the human Will that would justify the -_a priori_ inference that the divine Will would, _by any direct -intervention_, disturb or suspend that fixed Order in the external world -which constitutes a large part of the revelation of God to mankind. - -If indeed we are to draw any kind of parallel between divine and human -action, we shall have to ask ourselves what is there appertaining to the -divine Spirit which can in any sense be said to correspond to its -“Body”? And I suppose we shall reply, in Pauline language, that Mankind, -which is said to have Christ for its Head, might be mystically and -spiritually called the Body of the divine Will or Holy Spirit. If this -be so, proceeding with our parallel, might we not repeat, word for word, -with the needful proportionate changes, the language of the last -paragraph: “The divine Will or Spirit acts directly on the divine body -(that is on mankind) in accordance with the Laws of Spiritual Nature, -and it does not interfere with the external world, except indirectly, -through mankind, in accordance with the Laws of Nature (as technically -defined)”? I do not say that this analogy is logic-proof: for what can -be called a “body,” or what “external,” in relation to the all-pervading -God? Nevertheless, as it falls in with our actual experiences, this -mystical parallel seems as well worth recording as most _a priori_ -notions on this subject, though we take it as no more than an -illustration of possibilities. But, if we are to confine ourselves to -certainties, the one thing certain is, that Nature, in the fullest -sense, human as well as non-human, emphatically discourages us from -expecting “miracles.” - - - - - XIV - THE MIRACLES OF THE OLD TESTAMENT - - -MY DEAR ——, - -Your last letter now comes to the point which I have been long -anticipating, or rather it recurs to the point from which our -correspondence started—the credibility of the miracles attributed to -Christ. You tell me that during the long vacation you have been rapidly -reviewing my letters and attempting to enter into my views. There is -much, you say, that is new, and there is something that improves on -acquaintance, in this form of “Christian Positivism” as you call it; its -intellectual security has attractions for you, and it seems to you to -satisfy at once the aspirations of those who are drawn to worship -humanity, and of those who are drawn to worship something above -humanity. All this looks very well on paper, you say; but when you take -up the Gospels, it seems to fade away into a mere student’s dream: and -you state the objection thus: “For our knowledge of Christ, we depend -almost entirely upon the New Testament; now the New Testament contains -accounts of miracles; these miracles we are unable to accept as -historical; consequently the New Testament must be regarded as -non-historical, and the whole story of Christ becomes a myth.” - -In return for this argument about the New Testament let me supply you -with a similarly sceptical one about the Old Testament, and ask you -whether you are prepared consistently to adopt it. “For our knowledge of -the children of Israel, we depend almost entirely upon the Old -Testament; now the Old Testament contains accounts of miracles; these -miracles we are unable to accept as historical; consequently the Old -Testament must be regarded as non-historical, and the story of the -descendants of Israel becomes a myth.” - -Now are you really satisfied with this argument? The so-called Law of -Moses, the wandering in the Wilderness, the conquest of Canaan, the -lives of the wonder-working Gideon and of Barak, the wars and songs of -David, the denunciations, warnings, consolations, sorrows, visions, of -Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and the other prophets, are they indeed, in -your judgment, converted into mere myths by the admixture of the -miraculous element? Are they even made so far mythical as not to reveal -the story of the training of one of the most remarkable of nations, a -nation theologically quite singular upon earth? I contend on the -contrary, that the removal of the miraculous element results in a -two-fold advantage, on the one hand placing the story of Israel in the -province of history, and on the other hand, not bringing it down to the -level of the common-place, but elevating it to a pinnacle among the -histories of nations, and making it in a certain sense more wonderful -than before. If Moses was a plenipotentiary miracle-worker from God, -then there was nothing unexpected or wonderful in the spiritual results -that he achieved; and the wonder rather is that he achieved so little. -Give me the thunders of Sinai, with power to burn, blast, and plague my -opponents; add to these the power of producing without labour and -without delay miraculous supplies of manna, quails, and water, and I -myself would undertake to terrify or allure any nation into obeying a -far less noble and attractive code of laws than was set forth in the -name of Moses. But when I see a lawgiver with no such powers, doing what -Moses did, and shaping, or preparing the way for shaping, one of the -most carnal and unspiritual of races into a nation of Priests and -Prophets for the civilised world, then I am ready to fall upon my face -and to take my shoes from off my feet, saying from the depth of my -heart, “Truly God is in this place.” “But,” say you, “the so-called Law -of Moses is no more due to Moses than trial by jury is due to Alfred.” -That matters not. It is not any one Israelite; it is Israel as a whole, -Israel and its lawgivers and poets and prophets collectively; it is the -evolution of the spiritual from the carnal Israel that I revere; and all -the more, if that evolution be natural. Regarded as miraculous, the -history of Israel is somewhat of a failure and a bathos; but, regarded -as non-miraculous, it becomes a most miraculous triumph of divine -intention and persistence, even though the walls of Jericho succumbed to -the trumpets of Israel only in hyperbole, and although the sun stood -still at the bidding of Joshua only in the impassioned language of an -Oriental poet. - -I am quite sure you must feel this as strongly as I do; you cannot -honestly and sincerely put aside all the history of Israel as a myth -because it contains a non-historic element of miracles, any more than -you put aside the battles of Salamis and Regillus because they too have -received their miraculous adornment. But some are probably perplexed and -scandalized at the task that is apparently set before them of -disentangling the true from the false, the myth from the non-myth: “How -strange,” they say, “that the story of the training of the Priests of -the world, that story which should have been a light to guide our feet, -has been suffered to shed darkness instead of light and falsehood -instead of truth! Is it probable, is it even decent and reverent, to -suppose that God should have allowed the Book of Revelation to be so -falsified that the simple and unlearned cannot depend upon it without -the aid of scholars and specialists?” - -My reply is that, as long as men reason in this way, assuming that -Revelation ought to have been conveyed by some perfect medium, and -therefore that it must have been conveyed by some perfect medium, so -long it will be as impossible to refute them as it was to refute the -Aristotelian astronomers who argued that “The planets ought to move in -perfect curves; and the circle is a perfect curve; and therefore the -planets must move in circles.” We are like children crying for the moon -if we demand that this world, or that anything in this world, shall be -arranged as if the world were the best of all possible worlds. It is not -the best possible world, and we know it is not. Some things attest the -glory of God more perfectly than others; but nothing attests it quite -perfectly. You might as well hope to remove refraction from the -atmosphere, as to remove from the human mind the prejudices which compel -and always have compelled mankind to exaggerate and misrepresent divine -truth by forcing us to think that God must have acted as we should have -acted had we been in His place. - -If you and I were omnipotent and had to re-make the Universe, I suppose -there is no question but we should make man perfectly good (according to -our notions of goodness) and that we should force him to remain good. -And if you or I were omnipotent and had to reveal anything to men, we -should write it large and clear in the sky, or in the heart, legible to -all without effort, so that men should be forced to understand it. But -God has neither done this nor anything like it. Therefore, since in -other respects He has departed so very far from our notions of the best -method, we cannot be surprised if He has not composed the Old Testament -quite in the manner which would commend itself to us as the best. From -our point of view the Bible teems with obvious imperfections. In the -first place there are none of the modern arrangements for securing -accuracy. No special newspaper reporters, not even contemporary writers -of memoirs or histories, have handed down to posterity the exact words -and deeds of Moses, David, Isaiah, and the great heroes and prophets of -Israel. Might we not almost say that there have been as it were -arrangements for securing inaccuracy? The authors wrote, in many cases, -long after the events they recorded, under conditions which rendered -accuracy of detail quite impossible. They have often been lengthy where -we could have desired brevity (as for example in the enumerations of -pedigrees and in the details of the furniture and ritual of the Temple -or the Tabernacle) and very brief where we should have prized amplitude. -Writing as Orientals for the most part write history, without -statistical exactness, they have sometimes made mistakes (sometimes -self-contradictory mistakes) in numbers and names, which it is now -impossible to rectify. Nay, we can hardly acquit them sometimes of moral -error; they have at all events sometimes appeared to praise, or at least -not to blame, sometimes even to impute to God, acts that would seem to -us—even when all due allowance is made for difference between ancient -and modern standards of morality—deserving of express and severe -censure. - -But their special error which we are now considering remains yet -unmentioned. You know that nations, like individuals, in their infancy -have very vague notions of the uniformity of Nature, and very strong -notions of the personality of Nature or of some Beings behind Nature. -Even in modern times Orientals would say that God or Allah did this or -that, where we say that this or that “happened;” and I remember hearing -not many years ago that some Jews of Palestine, suffering from the -consequences of extensive conflagration, wrote to England for relief in -a letter which declared—in perfect good faith, and without any intention -to imply a miracle—that God had “sent down fire from heaven upon their -town.” An Eastern traveller of modern times tells an amusing story to -the same effect how a camel-driver, when questioned as to the cause of -his rheumatism, could not be induced for a long time to make any other -answer except that “Allah had caused it;” and even when the traveller -had elicited the immediate cause, the man would still persist that -“Allah had sent the rheumatism, though it had followed upon drinking a -great quantity of camels’ milk when he was in a violent heat.” You -should therefore accustom yourself, if you want to understand the Bible, -to look at Western narrative from an Oriental point of view. Take for -example the interesting account given by the African traveller Mungo -Park of the manner in which a trifling incident saved his life in the -desert. Alone and desperate, faint and famished, he had thrown himself -down to die, when he suddenly caught sight of a small but exquisitely -shaped plant of great rarity and interest: “And can God have taken so -much thought and care for the creation of this little plant,” he cried, -“and have no thought or care for me?” In the strength of this suggestion -he started up, pressed on his way, and reached safety. Now compare this -striking little story with the similar incident of the gourd, recorded -in the Book of Jonah, and imagine how a prophet of Israel could have -described the message of salvation. He would have told us (as the -prophet Jonah tells us) how the Lord God in the same day caused a plant -to grow up before the face of the man, and how the Lord God said unto -the man “Hath the Lord thy God taken thought for this plant, and shall -He take no thought for thee? Arise, go on thy way”—giving, as from God, -the actual words of the thought which the Western traveller describes as -suggesting itself or occurring to his mind. You must surely see how -naturally this conversion of the natural into the seemingly miraculous -would have been effected by a penman of Israel, without the least -intention to imply a real suspension of the laws of nature. - -Keeping yourself still in the position of an Oriental historian, -consider what you would be called on to describe, in setting down the -story of Israel. You would find, as your materials, various traditions, -mostly oral, mostly perhaps poetic, describing a great deliverance -wrought in every particular by the hand of Jehovah Himself: you would -find the nation around you, and yourself among the rest, believing that -Jehovah Himself had drowned the Egyptians in the Red Sea, that His -terrible voice had given the Law from Sinai, that He had been to -wandering Israel a cloud in the noontide to protect them from the sun, -and a light in the darkness to give them guidance, that He had supplied -them with food from Heaven and spread a table for them in the -wilderness, that He had Himself given them water from Himself (the Rock -of Israel!) to quench their thirst. If the Jordan’s fords, unusually -shallow, had allowed the whole nation to pass across, as upon dry land, -you would be taught as a child to hear and sing, in hymns that -reiterated the national deliverance, that the Lord Himself had done -this: “The waters saw thee, O Lord, the waters saw thee, and were -afraid.” If, in the general terror of the Canaanites, a strong city -suffered itself to be taken on the mere onset and war cry of the -invaders as easily as though it had been an unwalled hamlet, the -traditions would tell how the walls fell flat at the sound of the -trumpets of Joshua; if some sudden storm, accompanied with hail and -immediately followed by an inundation of swollen streams, threw the -chariots and horses of the enemy into confusion and ensured their speedy -rout; or if, on another occasion, the sudden gloom of a storm had been -succeeded by a long evening of peculiar brightness and clearness -facilitating the pursuit and destruction of the foe, then you would hear -that the “stars in their courses” fought against Sisera, or that in the -day of Beth-horon the Lord Himself sent down hailstones upon the enemy -and stopped the sun at the prayer of Joshua:— - - “The sun and moon stood still in their habitation; - At the light of thine arrows as they went, - At the shining of thy glittering spear.”[9] - -All these materials, expressed in terse poetic phrase, you, as a -historian, would have to amplify into prose. Is it not easy to see how, -in the process, without any fraud or conscious exaggeration on your -part, you would transmute the natural into the miraculous? - -To go through the whole of the miracles in the Old Testament and to -attempt to shew how in almost every case the miraculous part of the -story may have crept in without intention to deceive, would be a task -far above my powers; and it would require a book not a letter. If you -were to study with care the articles in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ on -the books of the Old Testament they would give you a good deal of light -on this subject. But the problem is complicated by the fact that the -causes that originated the miraculous element are not always the same. -For example the seven miracles of Elijah and the fourteen miracles of -Elisha (the latter number being exactly the double of the former in -order to fulfil the prayer of Elisha for a “twofold” portion of the -spirit of his master) cannot be explained in the same way as the -miracles of the Wanderings or as those in the life of Samson. The -eminent Hebraist to whom we are indebted for the Articles -above-mentioned would confer on all students of the Bible a very great -benefit, if he would give us a separate treatise on the Old Testament -miracles. Meantime I must content myself with shewing how some miracles, -of what I may call a “grotesque” kind, may be explained as the mere -result of misunderstood names. You must be familiar with this kind of -explanation, I think, in ancient history, and even in modern English -history, although you have never thought of applying it to the Bible. -Perhaps you have read in Mr. Isaac Taylor’s _Words and Places_ how the -sexton in Leighton Buzzard used to show the eagle of the lectern as the -identical _buzzard_ from which the place derived its name—little -guessing that “Buzzard” is a mere corruption of “Beaudésert;” and the -porter at Warwick Castle, when he shows you the bones of the “dun cow” -slain by Guy of Warwick, hands down a similar erroneous tradition -probably derived from a misunderstanding of “dun.”[10] A far more famous -instance connects itself with the Phœnician name of “Bosra,” belonging -to the citadel of Carthage. This name meant, in the Phœnician language, -“citadel;” but the Greeks confused it with the Greek word “Bursa,” a -“hide;” and then they proceeded to invent a story to explain the name. -Queen Dido, they said, had bought for a small price as much ground as -she could encompass with a hide; she had cut the hide into thin thongs -and thereby purchased the site of a city for a trifle: hence the city -received the name of “Hide.” Thus subtilized the Greeks; but it may -interest you to know that our own ancestors consciously or unconsciously -followed in their footsteps. There is near Sittingbourne a castle called -Tong or Thong Castle, situated on a “tongue” of land (Norse, _tunga_) -which has given it its name. But tradition has invented or imitated the -old Greek story, and has declared that the castle was so-called because -the site was bought like Dido’s, a trifling price being given for so -much land as could be included in the “thong” made from a bull’s hide. - -But now to come to the particular instance which is the only one I shall -give from the Old Testament. You must recollect, and I think you ought -to have been perplexed by, the astounding incident in the life of -Samson, connected with the “ass’s jawbone.” The hero is said first to -have slain some hundreds of men with the jawbone of an ass, and then to -have thrown away the jawbone in the anguish of a parching thirst. Upon -this, the Lord is said, (in the Old Version of the Bible) to have opened -a fountain of water in the hollow of the jawbone in answer to his cry: -and the fountain was henceforth named En-hakkore, _i.e._ the “fountain -of him that calleth,” because Samson “called upon the Lord.” Moreover, -when he cast away the jawbone, he is said to have called the place -Ramath-lehi; which the margin (not of the New Version but of the Old) -interprets, “the lifting up of the jawbone” or “the casting away of the -jawbone.” Without pausing to dwell on the extreme improbability of the -details of the story, I will merely state the probable explanation. It -is probable that the valley containing the “hollow” in which the -fountain lay, was called, from the configuration of the place, “the -Ass’s Jawbone,” before the occurrence of any exploit of Samson in it. -Indeed we find it actually called “Lehi,” or “Jawbone,” in the narrative -now under discussion, just before the supposed incident of the jawbone -took place: “The Philistines went up, and pitched in Judah, and spread -themselves in _Lehi_ (_Jawbone_),” Judges xv. 9. This latter fact indeed -is not conclusive (as the narrator, living long after the event, might -possibly use the name of the place handed down to him, even in writing -of a time when he believed the name to have been not yet given): but the -probability of a natural explanation of the origin of the name receives -strong confirmation from a passage in Strabo (303) who actually mentions -some other place (I think in Peloponnesus) called the “Ass’s Jawbone.” I -need not say that Strabo narrates no such Samsonian incident to explain -the name, and that it was probably derived (like Dogs Head, Hog’s Back -and many other such names) from some similarity between the shape of an -ass’s jawbone and the shape of the valley. Moreover, the word translated -“hollow,” though it might represent the cavity in an ass’s jawbone, -might also represent the hollow in a valley, as in Zephaniah (i. 11) -“Howl, ye inhabitants of the _hollow_.” Again, the name Ramath-lehi -cannot mean “casting away of the jawbone;” it means “lifting up,” or -“_hill_,” of Lehi: and accordingly the Revised Version translates, “that -place was called Ramath-lehi;” and the margin interprets the name thus, -“_The hill_ of the jawbone”. I should add also that the Revisers—instead -of the Old Version, “clave an hollow place _that was in the jaw_”—give -us now, “clave the hollow place that _is_ in _Lehi_.” You must see now -surely how on every side the old miraculous interpretation breaks down -and makes way for a natural and non-miraculous explanation of the -legend. But we have still to explain the name of the fountain, said to -have been given from the “calling” of Samson. This is easily done. It -appears that the phrase “him that calleth,” or “the Caller,” is a Hebrew -name for the Partridge, so named from its “call,” or cry. The “Fountain -of the Caller,” therefore, in the “hollow place” of the “Ass’s Jawbone,” -was simply, as we might say, Partridge Well in Jawbone Valley, which lay -below Jawbone Hill. - -But now, many years after the champion of Israel had passed away, comes -the legendary poet or historian, who has to tell of some great exploit -of deliverance wrought by the hero Samson in this Valley of the Jawbone -of the Ass by the side of the Fountain of the Caller. Straight-way, -every local name must be connected with the incident that fills his mind -and the minds of all his countrymen who live in the neighbourhood. And -so “Jawbone Valley” became so called because it was there that Samson -smote the Philistines with “the jawbone of an ass;” and “Jawbone -heights” are so-called because on this spot Samson “lifted up” the -jawbone against his foes, or “threw it away” after he had destroyed -them; and “the Well of the Caller” derives not only its name but even -its miraculous existence from “_the calling_ of Samson upon Jehovah.” - -I think you will now perceive the kind of reasoning which has compelled -me to give up the miracles of the Old Testament. It is not in any way -because I have an _a priori_ prejudice against miracles: on the -contrary, I started with an _a priori_ prejudice for miracles in the -Bible, though against miracles in general. It is not simply because -there is not sufficient evidence for them; it is in great measure -because there is evidence against them. For, when you can shew how a -supposed miracle may naturally have occurred, and how the miraculous -account may naturally and easily have sprung up, I think that amounts to -evidence against the miracle. And of course when you find yourself -compelled to explain in this way a large number of miracles in the Old -Testament, it becomes far more probable than before that the rest are -susceptible of some natural explanation. I do not pretend to have -investigated in detail every miraculous narrative in the Old Testament. -I am ready to admit that at the bottom of the miraculous, there may have -been in many cases something very wonderful. Being for example -personally very much inclined to the mysterious, I would not deny that -in the Hebrew race, as in some others, there may have been some strange -power, natural but at present inexplicable, of “second sight;” but, on -the whole, looking at the evidence for and against the miracles of the -Old Testament, I have now no hesitation in rejecting them as miracles, -however much I may admire the spirit that suggested the narratives, as -exhibiting a profound and spiritual sense of the sympathy of God with -men. - -But we may perhaps be called upon to believe in the miracles of the Old -Testament on the authority, so to speak, of the miracles of the New -Testament. Such at least I take to be the meaning of the following -extract from an author who has done so much good educational as well as -episcopal work, and has manifested such an openness to new truth, that I -differ from him with diffidence where I may possibly have misunderstood -his meaning, and with regret where I am confident that I have understood -him correctly. The passage is from Bishop Temple’s Bampton Lectures,[11] -and I will give it at full length, partly because I may have to refer to -it again, partly because I am afraid of misinterpreting it if I separate -one or two sentences from the context: - - “We have to ask what evidence can be given that any such miracles as - are recorded in the Bible have ever been worked? It is plain at once - that the answer must be given by the New Testament. No _such_[12] - evidence can now be produced on behalf of the miracles of the Old - Testament. The times are remote; the date and authorship of the - Books not established with certainty; _the mixture of poetry with - history, no longer capable of any sure separation into its parts_; - and, if the New Testament did not exist, it would be impossible to - show such a distinct preponderance of probability as could justify - us in calling many [? any] to accept the miraculous parts of the - narrative as historically true.” - -If I understand this argument, I fear I must dissent from it. But let us -try at least to understand it. Dr. Temple admits (what I should not be -disposed to have admitted without a good deal of qualification) that -“the mixture of _poetry with history_” (and the context makes it clear -that he is referring to the miraculous accounts of the Old Testament) is -“no longer capable of any sure separation into its parts.” This is a -very important admission indeed. A plain Englishman may miss, at first -sight, the full importance of it. He may be disposed to say, “What does -this matter to me? What do I care whether a miracle is told in poetry or -in prose, provided only it is true?” But by “poetry” Dr. Temple does not -mean “verse;” he means hyperbole, poetic figures of speech and -metaphors; in plain English, he means language that is literally and -historically untrue. Consequently the admission amounts to this, that it -is now no longer possible in the miraculous narratives of the Old -Testament to separate what is historically true from what is -historically untrue. If this be so, I cannot understand how the question -is substantially affected by the New Testament. Let us suppose for a -moment that, many centuries after the times of Moses and Samson, real -miracles were wrought by Christ and the apostles; suppose even, in -addition, that the reality of the miracles wrought by Christ and his -followers could constitute any evidence for the Mosaic Miracles or could -refute the evidence against such stories as that of the Ass’s jawbone; -yet even then, what is the use of knowing that there may be a miracle -somewhere concealed in an Old Testament narrative in which it is -impossible to “make any sure separation” of the historically true from -the historically untrue? - -But for my part I am quite unable to adopt either of these suppositions. -I cannot see how “a distinct preponderance of probability” for the -Samsonian myth or the story of the stopping of the sun could be secured -by the fact that miracles were really, long afterwards, performed by -Christ. All that could fairly be said, as it seems to me, would be this, -that since miracles were actually wrought by the Redeemer of the race, -who was Himself a child of Israel, it is not so improbable as before -that miracles might have been also wrought by other previous deliverers -of Israel. But this could not go far, and certainly cannot constitute “a -distinct preponderance of probability,” if we find positive evidence for -a miracle almost wanting, and negative evidence against it very -strong.[13] - -So far as Dr. Temple’s argument has weight, so far it appears to me to -be capable of being used in the opposite direction to that which he -intended. For if there is any connection between the miracles of the Old -and of the New Testament, so that the probability of the latter may be -fairly said—I will not say to constitute “a distinct preponderance of -probability,” but to contribute slightly to the probability of the -former, then surely we must also admit that the demonstrated -improbability of the former must contribute slightly to the _a priori_ -improbability which we ought to attach to the latter. If the Bible is to -be regarded as a whole, and Bible miracles as a whole, then the fact -that the Divine Author of the Bible allowed revelation in the earlier -part of the Book to be conveyed through an imperfect and non-historical -medium will constitute a reasonable probability that He may also have -conveyed His later revelations through the same means. In other words, -the acknowledged presence of the law of “Truth through Illusion” in the -Old Testament should prepare us not to be disappointed if we find the -same law traceable in the New Testament: and the collapse of miracles in -the former should prepare us for a collapse of miracles in the latter. - -Do not however suppose for a moment that a collapse of miracles implies -a collapse of the Bible, and do not be disheartened by such expressions -as that “the mixture of poetry with history is no longer capable of any -sure separation into its parts.” If that expression refers merely to -some of the legends of the times of the Patriarchs, or to a few isolated -passages elsewhere, it may be accepted without fear; but it cannot apply -to the great bulk of the history of the Chosen People. Here you will -find very little difficulty in rejecting the obviously non-historical -and miraculous element; and you will lose nothing by the rejection. Read -through Stanley’s _Lectures on the Jewish Church_ and ask yourself -whether you have missed anything from the campaigns of Joshua and the -exploits of Gideon and Samson because the miracles have vanished from -his pages. Where miraculous narratives are manifestly not deliberate -fabrications, but (as here) late prosaic interpretations of early poetic -traditions, they very often afford trustworthy evidence of ancient -historical events which imprinted themselves upon the hearts of a simple -people. Certainly I can say for myself that I never realized Israel as a -nation and had not half my present appreciation of the wisdom and wonder -of the deliverance and training of Israel by Jehovah till I had learned -to interpret the miracles as being nothing more than man’s inadequate -attempt to set forth in visible shape the unique redemption of the -Chosen People. Spiritually as well as intellectually, my enjoyment of -the Old Testament has been doubled ever since I have been able, however -imperfectly, to separate the historical element in it from the -non-historical, and to interpret the prose as prose and the poetry as -poetry. - -Footnote 9: - - Habakkuk iii. 11. - -Footnote 10: - - “The legend of the victory gained by Guy of Warwick over the dun cow - most probably originated in a misunderstood tradition of his conquest - of the _Dena gau_ or Danish settlement in the neighbourhood of - Warwick.”—Taylor’s _Words and Places_, p. 269. - -Footnote 11: - - Page 206. - -Footnote 12: - - The italics are in the text. In the next sentence, the italics are - mine. - -Footnote 13: - - A more plausible argument might be derived from any expressions of - Jesus which might appear to imply a belief in the historical nature of - the Old Testament miracles. This argument appeals strongly to our - sense of reverence. We do not like to think that Jesus was mistaken - even in a purely intellectual matter. Yet do we really suppose that - Jesus, in His humanity, was exempt from the popular intellectual and - scientific errors of contemporary humanity? For example, do we really - suppose that Jesus was exempt from the popular belief that the sun - moves? For those who realize His humanity it is hard to think that He - was intended to be so far separated from the men and women around Him; - and, if He was not so separated, I find little more difficulty in - supposing that He would have had the same belief as was held by all - His countrymen concerning the historical character of the Old - Testament. - - - - - XV - THE MIRACLES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You demur to the parallel that I draw between the Old Testament and the -New Testament; “The Battle of Beth-horon can be disentangled from the -miracle of the stopping of the sun, just as the battles of Salamis and -Regillus can be disentangled from the visions which are said to have -accompanied them: and so of other Old Testament narratives. But is it -possible,” you ask, “that the life of Christ can be disentangled from -miracles? Do not His own words and doctrine imply a continual assumption -that He had power to do ‘mighty works’ superior to those of ordinary -men?” - -You could not have put your question more happily: for you unconsciously -illustrate the almost universal confusion—common to a great number of -theologians and agnostics as well as to the ordinary Bible -reader—between “miracles” and “mighty works.” You are really asking not -one but two questions. Your first question asks about “miracles;” by -which you mean some kind of suspension of a law of nature, or, if you -prefer it, some act not conceived as explicable in accordance with any -natural law by the person who is attempting explanation. Your second -question asks about “mighty works,” a phrase of constant occurrence in -the New Testament, by which phrase we may understand works superior to -the works of ordinary persons, but not necessarily suspensions of the -laws of nature. Works may be “mighty” and yet quite explicable in -accordance with natural law. - -You seem to expect a No to your first question and a Yes to your second. -I answer Yes to both. (1) The life of Christ can be disentangled from -“miracles.” (2) Christ always assumed that He could do “mighty works,” -and from them His life cannot be separated. - -It is a law of human nature that the mind influences the body. By acting -on the imagination and the emotions men have in all ages consciously or -unconsciously effected instantaneous cures in accordance with natural -laws. There has been much quackery and deception mixed up with cures of -this kind; but no physician, and no man of any general information, -would doubt that such cures have been and still are performed. The -Jansenists, subjected to the test of hostile observation, had some -undeniable successes of this nature. Every one has heard of the -so-called “miracles” of Lourdes; and no unprejudiced person would deny -that amid possible exaggerations and (I greatly fear) some frauds, they -have contained an element of reality. “Faith-healing” is going on in -England during this very year; and in the very place where I am now -writing I heard a captain of the Salvation Army just now give out a -notice that, besides a “free and easy meeting,” and a “holiness -meeting,” and sundry other meetings, there is to be a meeting on one -evening this week for the purpose of “casting out devils.” If I go -there, I shall probably see attempts, with partial success, to excite a -paralytic to motion, or to arouse some one from a dull stupor -approximating to insanity. These attempts, even though immensely -assisted by the intense interest and sympathetic demonstrations of the -spectators, will probably produce only a temporary effect; and when it -passes away the patient will very likely be worse than before. But the -law of nature is the same with all; in modern times with the Jansenists, -the miracle-workers of Lourdes, the “faith-healers,” and the Salvation -Army, and in ancient days with the priests of Æsculapius. Cures can be -effected by a strong emotional shock, sometimes of a gross kind such as -mere terror or violent excitement, sometimes of a much purer kind, an -ecstatic hope and trust. A marked distinction must of course be made -between those cures which can, and those which cannot, be effected by -appeal to the emotions. Paralysis (called in the New Testament “palsy”), -mental disease (often called in the New Testament “possession”), and -various kinds of nervous disorder, are all susceptible of emotional -cure: but the loss of a limb cannot be so cured. The cure of a man sick -of the palsy by the emotional method would be a miracle for spectators -of the first century, but it would not be a miracle for us now; that is -to say, it would be explicable by us, but not by them, in accordance -with known natural laws: but the restoration of a lost limb by faith -would be a miracle for them and for us alike: we know nothing of any -natural law in accordance with which such an act could be performed by -any degree of faith. - -Now it will be admitted by all that the great majority of Christ’s -“mighty works” were acts of healing, and that many of these were -expressly attributed by Him to faith. “Seeing their faith” is the -preface, in each of the three Synoptic Gospels, to the account of the -cure of the paralytic man, and it is a very curious preface; for it -seems to shew that Jesus recognized a kind of sponsorial and contagious -efficacy of faith in that instance (as also in the case of the father of -the epileptic boy); and we know by modern experience of “faith-healing” -how great is the influence of a sympathetic and trustful audience. -Elsewhere, “Thy faith hath made thee whole,” “According to your faith be -it unto you,” “Great is thy faith, be it unto thee even as thou wilt,” -“Thy faith hath saved thee,” “If thou canst believe, all things are -possible,” “Believe ye that I am able to do this?” “Be not afraid, only -believe”—these and similar expressions lead us to conclude that many of -the “mighty works” of Jesus were conditional on faith. Perhaps it might -startle you if I were to say that Jesus was not able to perform a -“mighty work” unless faith was present; yet if I said this, I should -only be repeating what St. Mark (vi. 5), the earliest of the -Evangelists, says on a certain occasion, that on account of the general -unbelief at Nazareth Jesus _was not able_ (οὐκ ἐδύνατο) to do there any -mighty work, “save that he laid his hands upon a few sick folk and -healed them.” This confession is so frank and almost scandalizing in its -plainness that we cannot be surprised that the later Evangelist, in his -parallel narrative, softens it down by omitting the words “was not -able,” and by inserting “many.”[14] We need by no means infer from this -narrative that Jesus attempted “mighty works” and failed. It may be that -He did not attempt them because He discerned the faithlessness of those -around Him, and felt His own consequent inability. But, interpret it as -we may, this passage remains a most important confirmation of the other -passages in which Jesus Himself implies the necessity of faith. Where -there was no faith, there Jesus “_was not able_ to do any mighty work;” -and this limit to His power Jesus Himself recognized. - -Here then we find at once a remarkable difference between most of the -“mighty works” of Jesus and the “miracles” of the Old Testament. The -former were conditional on faith, and, this condition suggests that many -of them may be explicable on natural laws; the latter have no condition -attached to them and there is nothing to suggest that they are -explicable on any natural law. Indeed the miracles of the Old Testament -are very often wrought, not as a natural response to belief, but as a -rebuke to unbelief: thus the hand of Moses is made leprous one moment -and pure the next, in order to inspire him with faith; Gideon lays out a -fleece on the grass, and the laws of nature are suspended for the -purpose of making it wet to-day and dry to-morrow, simply in order that -his unbelieving heart may be encouraged by a sign from God; the -faithless Ahaz is encouraged by God in the Old Testament to ask for that -very favour which Christ in the New Testament systematically refused to -the Pharisees—a sign from heaven: and for the sake of Hezekiah (who asks -“What shall be the sign that the Lord will heal me?”) the dial goes -miraculously backward! Could contrast be more complete? - -It follows that we shall be acting hastily if we place the “mighty -works” of Jesus on the same level as the “miracles” of the Old -Testament, inasmuch as the former are (in the strict sense of the term) -“mighty works,” while the latter (again in the strict sense of the term) -are “miracles.” But in addition to this reason, derivable from the -nature of the works themselves, there is another reason, derivable from -the evidence, for drawing a distinction. Besides the direct testimony of -the Gospels, we have other testimony, indirect but even more cogent, to -prove that Jesus wrought wonderful cures. The earliest of the Gospels -was probably not composed in its present shape till more than a -generation had passed away after the death of Christ; and, during the -lapse of thirty years evidence—especially if handed down by oral, and -that too Oriental, tradition—may undergo many corruptions. But the -letters of St. Paul are earlier, some of them much earlier; and many of -them are of such an unaffected, personal, informal nature that it is -absolutely impossible to suppose that they were written to express a -conviction that the writer did not feel, or to make the readers believe -in truths which were no truths. Now in his letters St. Paul quietly -assumes that many of his fellow-Christians, and he himself in -particular, had the power of working wonderful cures without the -ordinary means[15]. He even sets down this power as one among many -“gifts” or “graces” vouchsafed to the Church, and he places it by no -means high in the list. A man must be absolutely destitute of all power -of literary and historical criticism, if he can persuade himself that -these expressions in St. Paul’s letters had no basis of fact, and that -they were inserted, though unmeaning both to the writer and to the -hearers, in order to delude posterity into a false belief. There is -nothing in the Epistles to indicate the nature of the diseases which -were cured by St. Paul and his followers. We may conjecture with much -probability that they were nervous diseases, paralysis, “possession,” -and the like, such as might be acted on by the “emotional shock” of -faith: and the conjecture is confirmed by the fact that, in the time of -Josephus, healers of demoniacs were very common in Palestine; and -certain Jews of Ephesus are recorded in the Acts of the Apostles to have -tried an experiment, after Paul’s manner, in attempting to cure a case -of one “possessed.” But be this as it may, the fact that St. Paul and St -Paul’s contemporaries unquestionably cured some kinds of diseases in the -name of Jesus, and did this after some sort of system, by the utterance -of the name of Jesus, without the ordinary means, is a very strong -confirmation of the accuracy of the Gospels in attributing to Jesus the -power of working instantaneous cures. It would be strange indeed that -the Disciples, and not the Master, should have had such powers. - -I have laid stress upon the fact that Jesus wrought “mighty” but natural -cures, in the first place, because it ought to increase our appreciation -of His personal influence and power over the souls of men, to know that -He not only possessed this power in an unprecedented degree but also -communicated it to His disciples; and secondly, because the fact that He -performed these “mighty works” has naturally led people, from the -earliest times down to the present day, to infer that He performed -“miracles.” Even at the present time you will find that the great mass -of Christians make no distinction at all between healing a paralytic or -a demoniac or a dumb man, and restoring a severed ear or blasting a -fig-tree; all alike seem to them “miracles.” If this is so even in these -days, in spite of physiology, you cannot be surprised that the first -Christians and their followers made no such distinction; they assumed -that the man who could heal a paralytic by a word could heal any other -disease in the same way, and do any other work he pleased contrary to -the course of nature. This belief would prepare the way for attributing -to Jesus other works of a very different kind, real “miracles,” that is, -suspensions of the laws of nature. Considering the multitude of such -acts recorded in the Old Testament as having been performed by Moses, -Elijah, Elisha and others, we may well be surprised to find how very few -have been attributed to Jesus: and I believe it can be shown that each -of these few has originated from some misunderstanding, and without any -intention to deceive. Of almost all of these real “miracles,” said to -have been wrought by Christ, I believe we are justified in saying with -Bishop Temple that, if we take each by itself, we cannot find for it any -“clear, and unmistakeable, and sufficient evidence.”[16] So far from -being an exaggeration this is rather an understatement of the case: -there is not only no “clear and unmistakeable and sufficient evidence” -for them, there is also very strong indirect evidence against some of -them. In some future letter I may deal in detail with these miracles; -for the present I will select only one. - -This one shall be the most striking of all the miracles in the New -Testament, a miracle exceeding in wonder even the raising of Lazarus. It -is found only in St. Matthew’s Gospel, and describes an incident that -followed immediately on the death of Jesus. Here are the exact words: - - “And the earth did quake, and the tombs were opened; and many bodies - of the saints that had fallen asleep were raised; and coming forth - out of the tombs after his resurrection they entered into the Holy - City and appeared unto many.” - -Have I at all exaggerated this miracle in declaring it to be more -startling than even the raising of Lazarus? It records the resurrection, -not of one man, but of many. Nor are we allowed by the author to suppose -that he referred to visions of the dead, appearing unto friends; for he -tells us that “the _tombs were opened_, and many _bodies_ of the saints -arose.” Moreover this would appear to have been a miracle not wrought in -private as many of the mighty works of Jesus were, nor a sight -vouchsafed to a chosen few (like the manifestations of Jesus after -death); for these “bodies” went into Jerusalem, during the Passover, at -a time when the city was thronged with visitors, and “appeared unto -many.” What subsequently became of these “bodies”—whether they remained -on earth till the Ascension when they ascended with Jesus, or whether -they lived their lives over again and were buried a second time, or -whether they went back to their tombs again after they had appeared in -Jerusalem—is a question of some difficulty, which has exercised the -minds of commentators and has been answered rather variously than -satisfactorily. Be this as it may, the miracle must be confessed by all -to be stupendous. - -Now for the evidence of it. I have been quoting from St. Matthew’s -account of this miracle. What would a dispassionate and intelligent -heathen say of it, coming for the first time to the study of our four -Gospels? Would it not be something of this sort: “Here you call on me to -believe a miracle that appears to me to be motiveless and is certainly -singularly startling: but I will suspend my judgment of it till I hear -the accounts given by your other three Evangelists. What do they say of -the effect produced upon the disciples and bystanders by this earthquake -and this most extraordinary resurrection? There were present the women -that loved and followed Jesus, there was the Roman centurion, there were -‘many’ who witnessed the appearances of the dead: even to those who were -not present, an earthquake rending the rocks in the neighbourhood could -not be imperceptible: what therefore is said on these points by other -contemporary authors as well as by your four Gospels? Tell me that -first; and then I will tell you what I think of the miracle.” - -In answer to this request, which I think we must characterize as a very -natural one, we should have first to admit that no profane author makes -any mention of the resurrection of these numerous “bodies,” nor of the -earthquake that accompanied it. Then we should have to set down the four -records of the four Evangelists as follows: - -[Transcriber’s Note: The following four quotations were originally -printed side-by-side. They are transcribed one after another so as to be -readable on modern reading devices, which often cannot handle multiple -columns.] - - Mark xv. 37-39. - - 37. And Jesus uttered a loud voice and gave up the ghost. - 38. And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the - bottom. - 39. And when the centurion, which stood by over against him, saw - that he so gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son - of God. - - Matt. xxvii. 50-54. - - 50. And Jesus cried again with a loud voice, and yielded up his - spirit. - 51. And behold the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top - to the bottom [_and the earth did quake, and the rocks were - rent:_ - 52. _And the tombs were opened: and many bodies of the saints that - had fallen asleep were raised;_ - 53. _And coming forth out of the tombs after his resurrection they - entered into the holy city and appeared unto many._] - 54. Now the centurion, and they that were with him, watching Jesus, - when they saw [_the earthquake and_] the things that were done, - feared exceedingly, saying, Truly this was the Son of God. - - Luke xxii. 46-7. - - 46. And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, - into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said this, he gave - up the ghost. - 47. And when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, - saying, Certainly this was a righteous man. - - John xix. 30, 31. - - 30. And he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. - 31. The Jews, therefore, because it was the preparation, &c. - -You see then that this extraordinary incident, startling enough to be -the very centre of a galaxy of wonders, is omitted by _three out of the -four Evangelists_. You see also that two of the Evangelists agree with -St. Matthew in placing a centurion at the foot of the cross, and in -assigning to him expressions of faith: but neither of them mentions the -“earthquake” as being even a partial cause of the centurion’s faith, nor -is there so much as a hint of any resurrection of the “bodies of saints” -from the tombs. - -Now if you and I, with full knowledge of the facts, were writing a -biography of a great man, we might undoubtedly exhibit many variations -and divergences in our story. Every biographer who knows everything -about a man must omit something; many things therefore that you would -omit, I should insert, and _vice versâ_. But suppose we were writing in -some detail the description of the great man’s execution (as the -crucifixion is written in great detail by the Evangelists), and, in -particular, the emotion and utterances of the soldier who superintended -the execution. Is it possible under these circumstances that you should -relate (and with truth) that the soldier’s emotion was caused in part by -an earthquake which happened at the moment of the man’s death—adding -also that a large number of people rose at the same time bodily from the -graves—and that I, with a full knowledge that both these facts are true, -should make no mention at all either of the earthquake or of this -stupendous resurrection? I say that such an omission of facts is -absolutely impossible in any sincere and straightforward biographer, _on -the supposition that he knows them_. The argument that “it is unsafe to -argue from silence” is quite inapplicable here: nor is it in point to -allege the silence of a courtly historian who writes the life of -Constantine but omits the Emperor’s execution of his son. The answer is -that we have not here to do with courtly historians, but with simple -unsophisticated compilers of tradition whose main object was to set down -in truth and honesty all that could shew Jesus of Nazareth to be the Son -of God. Now it is impossible that the Evangelists should not have -recognized in this miracle, if true, a cogent proof—cogent for the minds -of men in these days—of the divine mission of Jesus: we are therefore -driven to the conclusion that they omitted it either because they had -never heard of it, or because although they had heard of it, they did -not believe it to be true. - -You must not however suppose that this evidently legendary narrative was -added with any intent to falsify. Like many of the miraculous accounts -in the Old Testament, this story is probably the result of -misunderstanding—an allegory misinterpreted. The death of Christ -abolished the gulf between God and man; it tore down the veil between -the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies, whereby Christ took mankind, in -Himself and with Himself, into the direct presence of the Father: and -this spiritual truth found a literal interpretation in two of the -Gospels which mention the “rending of the veil.” But Christ’s death did -more than this. It struck down the power of death itself: it broke open -the tombs, and prepared the way for the Resurrection of the Saints; and -this spiritual truth, being misinterpreted as if it were literally true, -gave rise to a tradition (which does not however seem to have been -widely received) that at the moment of Christ’s death certain tombs were -actually broken open, and certain of “the Saints” rose bodily from the -dead and walked into Jerusalem.[17] - -Footnote 14: - - St. Matthew ix. 58, “And he _did not many_ mighty works there because - of their unbelief.” For a demonstrative proof that the Gospel of St. - Mark contains the earliest tradition, see the beginning of the article - “Gospels” in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. - -Footnote 15: - - To the same effect is _James_ V. 14, 15: “Is any among you sick? Let - him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, - anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord: and the prayer of - faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up.” There can - he no doubt that this refers to literal healing; and it is interesting - as an indication that probably these early Christian attempts at - healing were often tentative. For it will hardly be maintained that - _all_ who were thus anointed were healed: otherwise death would have - been exterminated in the early Christian church. - -Footnote 16: - - Bishop Temple excepts only the Resurrection, which is not here under - consideration. His words are “It is true too that, if we take each - miracle by itself, there is but one miracle, namely our Lord’s - Resurrection, _for which clear, and unmistakeable, and sufficient - evidence is given_.”—_Bampton Lectures_, p. 154. - -Footnote 17: - - In the early apocryphal work called _Christ’s Descent into Hell_, a - striking description is given of the joy of the saints and the terror - of Satan, when Christ descends to Hades and rescues the dead, leading - them up to Paradise. In one of the versions of this work, the number - of those “risen with the Lord” is mentioned as “twelve thousand men.” - - - - - XVI - THE GROWTH OF THE GOSPELS - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You force me to digress. My object just now was to shew that the life of -Christ (no less than the history of the redemption of Israel) can be -disentangled from “miracles”, although not from “mighty works”; and I -proposed to take the six or seven principal miracles attributed to -Christ by the Synoptists and to shew of each account that it may have -naturally and easily crept into the Gospels without any intention to -deceive. - -But you will not let me go on in my own way; for you ask a question that -claims immediate answer, and something more than a mere Yes or No: “Did -or did not, the Publican and Apostle St. Matthew write the Gospel -attributed to him? And if he did, how can he have suffered a ‘legendary’ -miracle to ‘creep into’ his narrative? The same question,” you add, -“applies to the Gospel of St. John. If these two Gospels, as they stand, -were written by Apostles, that is, by personal disciples of Jesus and -eye-witnesses of the events they profess to describe, then there is no -alternative; either Jesus wrought miracles, or the Apostles lied. No -eye-witness can err as you suppose some one (I know not whom) to have -erred, by interpreting metaphor as though it were literal statement. -Imagine Boswell, for example, misinterpreting some metaphorical -expression concerning Dr. Johnson to the effect that ‘the great -lexicographer was exalted by his countrymen to the pinnacle of honour -and fame’ and consequently inferring that his statue was set up on a -column like Lord Nelson or the Duke of York! The notion is too -grotesque. If then Jesus did not perform miracles we are forced to -conclude either that the Apostles deceived us or that the Gospels -bearing their names are forgeries. Which is it?” - -In order to meet this objection I must say a few words about the -composition of the Gospels. For indeed your question shews a complete -misapprehension of the manner in which the Gospels grew up, and of the -ancient notions about authorship. In particular, you are far too free in -the use of the word “forgeries.” The book called the _Wisdom of Solomon_ -contains some of the noblest sentiments that have ever found eloquent -expression, and yet the philosophic author who composed it (probably in -Alexandria about eight or nine centuries after Solomon’s death) does not -hesitate to appeal to the Almighty in words by which he ascribes the -authorship to Solomon himself: “Thou hast chosen me to be a king of Thy -people and a judge of Thy sons and daughters: Thou hast commanded me to -build a temple upon Thy Holy mount,” (ix. 7, 8). Now do you call him a -forger? The book of Ecclesiastes, one of our own canonical books, -declares that it was written by “the son of David, king in Jerusalem” -and that the author was a “King over Israel in Jerusalem,” (i. 1-12). No -one now (worth mentioning) believes these statements to be true. Yet -would you call the composer of Ecclesiastes a forger? Probably in both -cases the authors felt that they were honouring the memory of the great -king in thus introducing new truths to the world under the protection of -his name. I believe many other instances might be given of the literary -laxity of ancient times. But besides, in the case of the Gospels, you -must remember that authorship hardly came into question at all events -for a long time. The story of the life of Christ would be, in some -shape, current among the Church as the common property of all, as soon -as the Apostles began to proclaim the Gospel. Probably it was not, for -some time, reduced to writing. Among the Jews the Old Testament was -spoken of as Writing or Scripture; but their most revered and sacred -comments on it were retained in oral tradition: and hence all through -the New Testament you will find that “Scripture” refers to the Old -Testament, and that no mention is made of the doctrine about Christ -except as “tradition” or “teaching.” What therefore would probably at -first be current in the Church, perhaps for thirty or forty years after -Christ’s death, would be simply a number of “traditions” or oral -versions of the Gospel, current perhaps in different shapes at the great -ecclesiastical centres, such as Jerusalem, Antioch, Ephesus, Alexandria, -Rome, yet presenting a general affinity, and all claiming to represent -“the Memoirs of the Apostles” or to be “the Gospel of the Lord Jesus -Christ.” - -It ought not to seem strange to you that the Church could exist, and the -Good Tidings be preached for some years without the aid of written -Gospels. Did not St. Paul preach the Gospel in his letters? Surely he -preached it very effectually: yet his letters do not contain a single -quotation from any written Gospel.[18] The same may be said of the -letters attributed to St. Peter, St. James, and St. John: not one quotes -a single saying of Christ, or contains a phrase that can be said, with -certainty, to be borrowed from our Gospels. The book of the Acts of the -Apostles, the earliest summary of Church history, contains many speeches -by Apostles, one by St. James, some by St. Peter and several by St. -Paul: in all these speeches only one saying of our Lord is quoted; and -that is a saying not found in any of our extant Gospels. Conjecture -might have led us to conclude that this would be so. We might reasonably -have inferred that, as long as the Church had in its midst the Apostles -and their companions, and as long also as they daily expected that -Christ would “come”, the notion of committing the Gospel to writing for -posterity would seem superfluous, distasteful, almost implying a want of -faith. But when we find this conjecture confirmed by the undeniable fact -that the earliest teachers and preachers of the Gospel, in their -teaching as it is handed down to us, made no use whatever of our written -Gospels, we may regard it as a safe conclusion that, during the first -generation after the crucifixion, written Gospels were neither widely -used nor much needed. - -But soon the need would arise. One after another the Apostles and their -companions would pass away, and Christ’s immediate “coming” would now be -less and less sanguinely anticipated. The great mass of the earliest -Christians were either Jews or proselytes to the Jewish religion; but -now the Gentiles, who had come to Christ without first passing through -the Law of Moses, would become the majority in the Church; and for them -the Old Testament would not have the same pre-eminent title as “Writing” -or “Scripture.” For these Gentiles too the old Rabbinical prejudice -against committing the teaching of the Church to writing would have no -weight. Now therefore in several churches simultaneous efforts would be -made to write down the traditions current amongst the brethren; and -hence we find St. Luke prefacing his own Gospel with the remark that he -was induced to attempt this task because “many” others had attempted it. -St. Luke could hardly have written thus if one authentic and apostolic -document already occupied the ground and stood pre-eminent in the Church -as the written record of Christ’s life by an eye-witness. That there was -no such document, known to St. Luke, we may also infer from his -acknowledgment of his obligations to those who were “eye-witnesses and -ministers of the word.” It says that he shapes his narrative “as they -handed down the tradition” for that is the meaning of his word not “as -they _wrote_ the tradition.” You must have noticed that the extant -titles of the Gospels declare them to have been written not “by,” but -“according to” their several authors. The explanation (which has not -been successfully impugned) is that, even in the later times in which -their titles were given, the old belief continued, that the men who -compiled them did no more than commit to writing their version of a -tradition already current. They did not compose, they reported, the -tradition; the Gospel was supposed to be the same in all Churches, but -here “according to” one version or writer, there “according to” another. -The Apostles, being with one or two exceptions mere fishermen and -unlearned men, ignorant of letters, could not very well be supposed to -be authors of written compositions; but St. Matthew, being a -tax-gatherer, would necessarily be an expert writer, and therefore one -of the earliest traditions committed to writing would be naturally -attributed to his penmanship. But the evidence for St. Matthew’s -authorship appears, when tested, to be extremely slight. It was the -universal belief of the early Church that the Gospel according to St. -Matthew was originally written in Hebrew, and Jerome has quoted, as -coming from the Hebrew original, a passage not found in our Greek Gospel -of St. Matthew. Even when this Gospel is quoted by the earliest writers, -it is frequently quoted inexactly, and never connected by them with the -name of St. Matthew as the author. We ought not to infer from these -unnamed and inexact quotations that the writers did not recognize St. -Matthew as the author for their habit is almost invariably to quote -Gospels, simply as Gospel, inexactly, and without mentioning the name of -the Evangelist. But this unfortunate habit leaves us without any early -and trustworthy evidence for St. Matthew’s authorship. On the whole, -then, there is very little evidence for supposing that any part of our -present Gospel according to St. Matthew was written by an Apostle or by -an eye-witness of Christ’s life, and there is very much evidence tending -to show that such a supposition is extremely improbable. - -Even if we grant that parts of the Gospel were composed by an Apostle, -it by no means follows that the whole was. There was a very natural -tendency, in the earliest days of the Church—when the traditional Gospel -was as it were everybody’s property and had not yet acquired the -authority of Scripture—to make the tradition as full, as edifying, and -as correct, as possible. If we may judge from the style of the book of -Revelation (which is said on rather more substantial grounds than are -generally alleged for the authorship of most of the books of the New -Testament, to have been the work of the Apostle John) the earliest Greek -traditions must have been composed in an ungrammatical, mongrel kind of -Greek, which must have been as distasteful to the well-educated -Christian as cockney English or pigeon English would be to us. This -could not long be tolerated in traditions that were repeated in the -presence of the whole congregation; and alterations of style, for -edification, would naturally facilitate alterations of matter, also for -edification. The love of completeness would introduce many corrections -and sometimes corruptions. Often, in those early times, the teacher, -catechist, or scribe, who knew some additional fact tending to Christ’s -glory, and not mentioned in the tradition or document, would think that -he was not doing his duty if he did not add it to his oral or written -version of the tradition. Even in MSS. of the fourth or fifth centuries -we have abundant instances to shew how this tendency multiplied -interpolations; principally by interpolating passages from one Gospel -into another, but sometimes by interpolating traditions not found now in -any Gospel with which we are acquainted. Occasionally there are also -corruptions of omission, arising from the desire to omit difficult or -apparently inconsistent passages; but by far the more common custom is -to add. If this corrupting tendency was in force in the fourth century -when the Christian religion was on the point of becoming the religion of -the empire, and when the sacred books of Christianity had attained to a -position of authority in the Church not a whit below the books of the -Old Testament, you may easily imagine what a multitude of interpolations -and amplifications must have crept into the original tradition at a time -when it was still young, unauthoritative, and plastic, during the first -two or three generations that followed the death of Christ. The result -of all these considerations is that we are not obliged and this, to my -mind, is a great relief to suppose that any passage which we may be -forced to reject from our Gospels as false, was written by an Apostle. - -I say this is to me a great relief, but perhaps it is not so to you. -Your notion of what the Gospels ought to be, is perhaps borrowed from a -passage in Paley’s Evidences where he likens the evidences for the -miracles of Christ to that of twelve eye-witnesses, all ready to be -martyrs in attestation of the truth of their testimony; and you are -shocked perhaps when you find that the Gospels fall very far indeed -below the level of such a standard of evidence. What would have seemed -best to you would have been an exact record of Christ’s teaching and -acts, drawn up by one of the Apostles in the name of the Twelve, duly -dated and signed by all, and circulated and received by the whole Church -from the day after the Ascension down to the present time. And I quite -agree with you. But then, as we have seen in the history of astronomy -and in the history of the Old Testament, it has not pleased God to -reveal Himself or His works to men in the way which men have thought -best. Now you are not indeed obliged to infer that, because revelation -in the Old Testament was accompanied by illusion, therefore revelation -in the New Testament must have contained a similar alloy; but you ought -at least to be prepared for such a discovery. For me, it would be a -terrible shock indeed if I were forced to suppose that a faithful -Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ had wilfully misrepresented the truth -with a view to glorify His Master: but it is no shock at all to find -that the highest revelation of God to man has been, like all other -revelations, to some extent misinterpreted, obscured, materialized. I -have learned to accept this as an inevitable law of our present nature. -If it had been God’s will to suspend this law of nature in favour of the -New Testament, I think He would have consistently gone further, and -miraculously prevented the scribes from making errors, or posterity from -perpetuating them. But how can I think God has done this, when I know -that even the words of the Lord’s own Prayer are variously reported in -the two Gospels of St. Matthew and St. Luke, and that every page of a -critical edition of the New Testament teems with various readings -between which the ablest commentators are perplexed to decide? - -You must therefore make up your mind to believe that the earliest Gospel -traditions and even that triply attested tradition[19] which is common -to the first three Gospels and which runs through the three with a -separate character of its own, like a distinguishable stream passed -through several phases before they assumed their present shape. In my -next letter I shall probably ask you to consider what phases they passed -through; but you may perhaps expect me to say something at once about -the Fourth Gospel; for to that book many of the previous remarks do not -apply. It was much later than the rest; it has little in subject-matter, -and nothing at all in style, in common with the rest; it contains -scarcely a word of the Common Tradition which pervades the first three -Gospels; it probably passed through no phases and suffered few -accretions; and it differs from the other Gospels, even from St. Luke’s, -in bearing a far more manifest impress of personal authorship. The three -synoptic Gospels really agree with their titles in representing the -Gospel “according to” their several authors; but the Fourth Gospel -(although, like the rest, preceded by “according to”) is a Gospel -written “by” whoever wrote it. - -The question is, who did write it? If it was written by an Apostle, an -eye-witness of the life of Christ, then we have to face—I am not sure we -have to accept—your alternative: “Either Jesus worked miracles, or the -Apostles lied.” But there is very little evidence (worth calling -evidence) for the hypothesis that an Apostle wrote it, and much evidence -against that hypothesis. St. John, the reputed author, is said, on the -evidence of Justin Martyr, to have written the Apocalypse; which, while -it resembles in style what we might have expected from a Galilean -fisherman, differs entirely from the style of the Fourth Gospel. Whoever -wrote the Gospel, we may be sure that he did not reproduce the words of -Jesus, but gave rather what appeared to him to be their latent and -spiritual meaning. This can be proved as follows. Suppose three -writers—say Boswell, Mrs. Thrale, and Goldsmith—had composed accounts of -the life and sayings of Dr. Johnson, widely differing in the -subject-matter and style of the narrative, but closely agreeing in the -character of Johnson’s thoughts, as reported by them, and very often -agreeing in the actual words imputed to Johnson; and suppose a fourth -writer, say Burke, had written his reminiscences of Dr. Johnson, which -entirely differed in language, in thought, and in subject-matter from -the first three: would you not say at once that this was strong proof, -that Burke did not report Dr. Johnson’s actual words, and that he had -probably tinged them with his own style and thought? But if furthermore -Burke reported Dr. Johnson’s words and long discourses _in the same -language as he reported Sheridan’s, and in language indistinguishable -from his own contextual narrative_, then you would, I am sure, find it -difficult to be patient with any one who, through force of prejudice and -pleasing associations, obstinately maintained that Burke’s biography was -equally faithful and exact with the three other concordant or synoptic -biographies. Now this comparison exactly represents the facts. You will -find several of the most learned and painstaking commentators differing -as to where the introductory words of the author of the Fourth Gospel -cease, and where John the Baptist’s words begin; and the style of our -Lord’s discourses in the Fourth Gospel is quite indistinguishable from -the style of the author himself. As to the immense difference, in -respect of style and thought and subject-matter, between the Synoptic -Gospels, and the Fourth Gospel, you must have felt it, even as a child, -reading them in English. - -I must refer you to the article on “Gospels” in the _Encyclopædia -Britannica_ for what I believe to be the most probable explanation of -the origin of this remarkable work. It is there shown that there are -extraordinary points of similarity between the emblematic language and -emblematic acts attributed to Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, and the -emblematic conceptions of the Alexandrine philosopher Philo, who -flourished some sixty or seventy years before that Gospel was written. -Dealing, for instance, with the dialogue between Jesus and the woman of -Samaria near the well at Sychem, the writer of that article shews that, -in the works of Philo, the well is an emblem of the search after -knowledge; Sychem is an emblem of materialism; the “five husbands”, or, -as Philo calls them, “five seducers” represent the five senses so that -the whole dialogue appears to contain a poetic appeal to the heathen -world, to turn from the materialistic knowledge which can never satisfy, -to the knowledge of the Word of God which is the “living water”. Still -more remarkable is Philo’s emblematic use of Lazarus (or Eleazar, for -the words are the same) as a type of dead humanity, helpless and -lifeless till it has been raised up by the help of the Lord. But into -this I have no space to enter. If you care to pursue the subject, I must -refer you to the article above mentioned. Canon Westcott has pointed out -that in arrangement and structure the Fourth Gospel has some distinct -poetic features. I should go further and say that, in this Gospel, -History is subordinated to poetic purpose, and that its narratives of -incidents, resting sometimes on a basis of fact, but more often on a -basis of metaphor, are intended not so much to describe incidents as to -lead the reader to spiritual conclusions. - -We have no account of the authorship of the Fourth Gospel till the year -170 A.D., and this we find to be “already legendary.”[20] It is there -said that, being requested by his fellow-disciples and bishops to write -a Gospel, John desired them to fast for three days and then to relate to -one another what revelation each had received. It was then revealed to -the Apostle Andrew that “while all endeavoured to recall their -experiences, John should write _everything in his own name_”. No -confidence can be placed in the exactness of testimony that comes so -long after the event; but it points to some kind of joint contribution -or revision such as is implied in John xxi. 24: “This is the disciple -which testifieth of these things and _we know_ that his testimony is -true.” That the Gospel was written “in the name of John” by some pupil -of his—perhaps by some namesake—and revised and issued in the name of -John by the Elders of the Ephesian Church, is by no means improbable. In -some matters of fact, for example in distinguishing between the Passover -and “the last supper,” the Fourth Gospel corrects an (apparent) error of -the Synoptic Gospels, a correction that possibly proceeded from the -Apostle John; and perhaps the solemn asseveration as to the issue of -blood and water from the side of Jesus (“And he that hath seen hath -borne witness, and his witness is true: and he knoweth that he saith -true, that ye also may believe”) may be a reminiscence of some special -testimony from the aged Apostle; but it is impossible to ascertain how -far emblematic and historical narratives are blended in such passages as -the dialogue with the Samaritan woman, the miracle at Cana, and the -raising of Lazarus. The author was convinced (like every other believer, -at that time) that Jesus _did_ work many miracles, and _could_ have -worked any kind of miracle; but he had noted the unspiritual tendency to -magnify the “mighty works” of Jesus as merely “mighty:” he therefore -selected from the traditions before him those in which the spiritual and -emblematic meaning was predominant. In doing this, he sometimes took a -spiritual metaphor and expanded it into a spiritual history. Again, he -had also noted an unspiritual tendency to lay undue stress upon the -exact words of Jesus; and he therefore determined—besides giving -prominence to the promise of Jesus concerning His Spirit, which was to -guide the disciples into all truth—to exhibit, in his Gospel, the -spiritual purport of Christ’s doctrine rather than to repeat each saying -as it was actually delivered. - -As I write these words, with the pages of the Gospel open before me, my -eye falls upon the story of the raising of Lazarus: “Jesus said unto -her, I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth on me, though -he die, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth on me -shall never die.” Is it possible, I say to myself, that Jesus did _not_ -say these entrancing words? And how often does the same question arise -as one turns over the leaves: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give -unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you:” “Yet a little while -and the world beholdeth me no more; but ye behold me: because I live, ye -shall live also.” Could any one at any time have invented such sayings? -Still less, is it possible they could have been invented in the times of -Trajan or Hadrian by any Asiatic Greek or Alexandrian Jew? But truth -compels me to answer that, just as the Asiatic Jew St. Paul, although he -never saw or heard Jesus, was inspired by the Spirit of Jesus to utter -words of spiritual truth and beauty worthy of Jesus Himself, so an -Asiatic Greek or Alexandrian Jew of the time of Trajan may have been -prompted by the same Spirit to penetrate to the very depths of the -meaning of Jesus and to express some of the conclusions to be derived -from His sayings more clearly than we can see them even in the words of -Jesus Himself, as they are recorded in the Synoptic Gospels. I do not -see on what principle we can so limit the operation of the Holy Spirit -as to say it could not extend, in its most perfect force, beyond the age -of Domitian or Nerva or even Trajan. Having before me the doctrine of -the Synoptic Gospels, I am forbidden by mere considerations of style and -literary criticism from believing that Jesus used the exact words, “I am -the true vine,” “I am the good shepherd,” “I am the light of the world,” -“I am the resurrection and the life;” but I accept these sayings as -divinely inspired, and as being far deeper and fuller expressions of the -spiritual nature of Jesus than any of the inferences which I could draw -for myself from the Synoptic doctrine. Do not then say that I “reject” -the Fourth Gospel. I accept all that is essential in it; and this I -accept on far safer grounds than many who would accuse me of rejecting -it. For their acceptance might be shaken to-morrow if some new piece of -evidence appeared decisively shewing that the Gospel was not written by -John the Apostle; but my acceptance is independent of authorship, and is -based upon the testimony of my conscience. - -Surely you must feel that it would be absurd for one who tests religious -doctrine to some extent by experience and by history, to reject the -Fourth Gospel because it is in a great measure emblematic, and because -it was not written by the man who was supposed to have written it. Be -the author who he may, I shall never cease to feel grateful to him. The -all-embracing sweep of view which enabled him to look on the Incarnation -as the central incident of the world’s history and to set forth Christ -as the Eternal Word and Eternal Son, not dependent for this claim upon a -mere Miraculous Conception; the spiritual contempt for mere “mighty -works,” which leads him repeatedly to claim faith for Jesus Himself -firstly, and for the “words” of Jesus secondly, and only as a last -reserve to demand belief “for the works’ sake;” and the true intuition -with which he fastens on the promise of Jesus (only hinted at in the -Synoptic Gospels) that He would be present with His disciples at every -time and place and that He would give them “a voice,” and a Spirit not -to be gainsaid—from which brief suggestion the author worked out in -detail the promise of the Holy Spirit, and predicted the nobler and -ampler future of the Church these true, and profound, and spiritual -intuitions will always excite my deepest gratitude and admiration. The -doctrine of the Eternal Word had its origin perhaps in the schools of -Alexandria, and certainly formed no part of the teaching of Jesus; but, -Christianized as it is by the author of the Fourth Gospel, it commends -itself as a key to many mysteries, and (like the Fourth Gospel itself) -it appears to be but one among many illustrations of the divine -development of Christian doctrine; “I have yet many things to say unto -you, but ye cannot bear them now. Howbeit when he, the Spirit of Truth, -is come, he will guide you into all truth.” In a word, without the -Fourth Gospel, Christendom might (it would seem) have failed forever to -appreciate the true nature of its Redeemer. - -I cannot indeed repress some regret that this most marvellously endowed -minister and prophet of Christ should have been allowed to select a -poetic and even illusive form in order to publish his divine truths. -Hitherto I have been able with pleasure and satisfaction to see the -illusive integument being gradually separated from the inner truth, as -in astronomy and in the history of the Old Testament. Now comes a point -where I myself should like to recoil. But how puerile and faithless -should I be if I assumed that God would give to the world along with His -divine revelation precisely that modicum of illusion (and no more) which -I myself personally am just able to receive with pleasure! Let us rather -follow where, as Plato says, “the argument leads us.” Or, if you prefer -me to quote from the Fourth Gospel itself, let us follow the guidance of -Him who is both “the Way and the Truth.” - -Footnote 18: - - If 1 Tim. v. 18 were an exception, it would shew that that letter, - quoting a Gospel as “Scripture,” was later than St. Paul. But it is - possibly not an exception. - -Footnote 19: - - “Attested” is not the same as “originated.” The tradition may - (possibly) have been originated by a single author: but witness, or - “attestation”, was borne to its authoritative character by the three - earliest Gospels, whose authors, or compilers, independently adopted - it. It is therefore ‘triply attested’. - -Footnote 20: - - “The Fragment of Muratori,” Westcott, _Introduction to the Gospels_, - p. 255. - - - - - XVII - CHRISTIAN ILLUSIONS - - -MY DEAR ——, - -Once more I am compelled to digress: and, this time, it is in order to -meet what you must let me call a preconception of yours. You say that it -appears to you “impossible that Christ, if really divine, should have -been permitted by God to be worshipped as a worker of miracles for -eighteen centuries, although in reality he had no power to work them.” - -Is this much more than a repetition of your former objection that my -views amount to “a new religion,” and that illusion, although it may -abound in the history of the thoughts of mankind, can never have been -permitted to connect itself with a really divine revelation? I have -already in part answered these prejudices—for they are nothing more—by -shewing that illusion permeates what is called “natural religion,” and -by subsequently shewing that the inspired books of the Old Testament -exhibit illusions in every page; not only the illusions of the chosen -people, but illusions also on the part of the authors of the several -books, who misinterpreted tradition so as to convert a non-miraculous -into a miraculous history. But now let us deal more particularly with -Christian illusions. Here I will try to show you, first, how natural and -(humanly speaking) how inevitable it was that illusions should gather -round the earliest Christian traditions, and how easily there might have -sprung up miraculous accounts in connection with them. Then, and not -till then, having done my best to dispel your natural prejudice, I will -take in detail the six or seven principal miracles attributed to Christ -by all the three Synoptic Evangelists, and will endeavour to show you -that these accounts did actually spring up in a natural and inevitable -way, after the manner of illusions, without any attempt to deceive on -the part of the compilers of the Gospels. It will appear, I think, that -the life and doctrine of Christ are independent of these miracles and -can easily be separated from them. - -For the present then I am to speak of the naturalness or inevitability -of illusions gathering about Christ’s acts and words in the minds of His -disciples. Does any student of the Fourth Gospel need to be convinced of -this? Perhaps the author of that work discerned the illusions of the -early Church even too clearly, so that he slightly overshot the mark in -the frequency of the false inferences and misunderstandings with which -he delights to encompass the words and deeds of Jesus. Perhaps the -composer of “the Spiritual Gospel” has been led even too far by his -profound and true perception that this Incarnate Word—this Being from -another sphere who was and is in the bosom of the Father—could not move -on the earth, among earthly creatures, without being perpetually -misunderstood by them. But is there not manifest truth in his conception -of Jesus as of One having different thoughts from those of common men, -different ways of regarding all things small or great, a spiritual -dialect of His own, not at once to be comprehended by ordinary beings? -Certain it is that, in the Fourth Gospel, Christ’s discourses are one -string of metaphors which are literally and falsely interpreted by those -to whom they are addressed. “Flesh,” “blood,” “water,” “sleep,” “birth,” -“death,” “life,” “temple,” “bread,” “meat,” “night,” “way,”—these and I -know not how many more simple words present themselves, as we rapidly -turn over the pages of that Gospel, always metaphorically used, and -always misunderstood. Nor can it be said that they were misunderstood by -enemies and unbelievers alone; His disciples constantly misunderstood -them. The life of Christ in the Fourth Gospel is one continuous -misunderstanding. I will not say that this represents the exact fact; -but I doubt not that the inspired insight of the author, be he who he -may, took in the full meaning of all the hints that are given by the -Synoptists as to the misunderstanding of the disciples about their -Master, and led him to the deliberate conclusion that the life of Christ -in the flesh was one perpetual source of illusions to the -Twelve—illusions through which, by the guidance of the Spirit, they were -to be led to the truth: “What I do ye know not now, but ye shall know -hereafter.” I believe he went even further and perceived that Christ’s -life was in danger of becoming a total delusion to the earliest -Christians through their tendency to the materialistic and the -miraculous, and that the best means of preserving the Church from such a -danger was to accustom the faithful to attach value to the words and -deeds of Christ only so far as they could interpret them spiritually, -trusting to the Spirit for continual guidance into new truth. - -This then is my first proposition, that Christ was sure to be -misunderstood by those around Him, owing to His manner of using the -language of metaphor. You must know very well that this conjecture is -confirmed by fact. Sometimes the Synoptists note the fact, as when He -spoke of “leaven” and the Twelve misunderstood Him literally; and -several other instances are on record. But it is of course possible that -on many other occasions the misunderstanding may have existed, but may -not have been noted by the Evangelists. Take one instance. In the -discourse of Jesus to the Seventy Disciples (Luke x. 19) Jesus makes the -following statement: “I have given you authority to tread upon _serpents -and scorpions_ and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall in -any wise hurt (ἀδικήσει) you.” How are we to understand this “treading -upon _serpents and scorpions_”? Literally or metaphorically? Surely the -text itself makes it evident that Jesus used the words metaphorically to -refer to “the power of the Enemy,” _i.e._ “the Serpent,” or Satan, -probably with a special reference to the casting out of devils. Moreover -the passage is introduced by a statement that “the Seventy returned -_with joy_, saying, Lord, _even the devils are subject unto us in thy -name_. And he said, I beheld _Satan_ fall as lightning from Heaven. -Behold I have given you authority to tread _upon serpents_.... _Howbeit_ -in this _rejoice not that the spirits are subject unto you_; but rejoice -that your names are written in Heaven.” As for the other part of the -promise, “nothing shall hurt you,” it surely does not seem to you that -these words must imply literal “hurt”? If it does, let me direct your -attention to a much more striking instance of Christ’s extraordinary use -of metaphor in a passage where the Disciples are told, almost in a -breath, that _not a hair of their heads shall perish_ and yet that some -of them shall be “_put to death_” (Luke xxi. 16-18). I think then that -you will agree with me that the “authority to tread upon _serpents_” -mentioned in St. Luke contained not a literal, but a spiritual promise, -to tread upon the power of “the Serpent.” Nevertheless, that this -promise about “serpents” was very early misinterpreted literally can be -shewn, not indeed from a genuine passage of the Gospels, but from a very -early interpolation in St. Mark’s Gospel, xvi. 17, 18: “These signs -shall follow them that believe; in my name shall they cast out devils; -they shall speak with new tongues; they _shall take up serpents_, and if -they drink any deadly thing, it shall in no wise hurt them; they shall -lay hands on the sick and they shall recover.” - -Here then we have a clear instance of misunderstanding (not noted by the -Evangelists) arising in very early if not in the very earliest times -from the metaphorical language of Jesus. One more instance of probable -misunderstanding must suffice for the present. You know how often in the -Epistles of St. Paul the word “dead” is used to indicate spiritually -“dead” _i.e._ “dead in sin.” A similar use is attributed to Christ in -the Fourth Gospel: “He that believeth in me, though he were _dead_, yet -shall he live” (John xi. 25); but here the impending resurrection of -Lazarus gives the reader the impression that it is literally used. -However it is almost certainly metaphorical in John v. 24, 25, 28, “He -that heareth my word and believeth him that sent me, hath eternal life, -and cometh not unto judgment, but _is passed from death into life_. -Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour cometh and now is, when the -_dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they that hear shall -live_.... Marvel not at this, for the hour cometh in which all that are -in the tombs shall hear his voice, and shall come forth” &c. Here -apparently the meaning is that the hour has already come (“now is”) when -the spiritually dead shall hear the voice, and the hour is on the point -of coming when the literally dead (“all that are in the tombs”) shall -hear it. In any case, the metaphorical meaning is indisputable in the -striking saying of Jesus (Luke ix. 60) “Let the _dead_ bury their dead.” - -Now if Jesus was in the habit of describing those who were lost in sin -as being “dead,” and of bidding His disciples “raise the dead”—meaning -that they were to restore sinners to spiritual life—we can easily see -how such language might be misunderstood. It is probable that Jesus -Himself had actually restored life to at least one person given over for -dead, the daughter of Jairus, though by natural means. Of such -revivification you may find an instance described in _Onesimus_ (pp. -77-81) which is taken almost verbatim from the account of his own -revivification given by the late Archbishop of Bordeaux to the late Dean -Stanley, and sent me by the Dean as being taken down from the -Archbishop’s lips. If that was so, how natural for some of the Disciples -to attach a literal meaning to the precept, “raise the dead”! They would -argue thus, “Our Master healed diseases at a word, so can we; He once -raised a child from the dead and bade us also raise the dead; some of -the Disciples therefore ought to be able to do this.” How natural, under -the circumstances, such a confusion of the material and the spiritual! -Yet I have little doubt that the diseases which were cured by the Twelve -were almost always “possession,” or paralysis, or nervous diseases. -Compare the different accounts given by the Synoptists of the -instructions of Jesus to the Twelve when He sent them forth on their -first mission: - -[Transcriber’s Note: The following three quotations were originally -printed side-by-side.] - - Mark vi. 7. - - And he called unto him the twelve, and began to send them forth by - two and two; and he gave them authority over the unclean spirits. - - Matthew x. 1. - - And he called unto him his twelve disciples and gave them authority - over unclean spirits to cast them out, and to heal all manner of - disease and all manner of sickness. - - Luke ix. 1. - - And he called the twelve together and gave them power and authority - over all devils and to cure diseases. - -Here you find that the first Gospel (St. Mark’s) makes mention only of -the “authority over unclean spirits,” and this probably represents the -fact. The third account is an amplification; and the second altogether -exaggerates. Hence, when we read, in the context of the second version -of these instructions, “Heal the sick, _raise the dead_, cleanse the -lepers, cast out devils; freely ye received freely give” (Matthew x. 8), -we cannot fail to see several arguments against the probability of the -italicized words being literally intended by Jesus. First, the language -of Christ habitually dealt in metaphor, and in metaphor habitually -misunderstood by His disciples; secondly, there is no instance in which -a single one of the Twelve carried out this precept during the life of -their Master, and only one in which one of the Twelve (Peter) is said to -have raised a woman from the dead (for St. Paul’s incident with Eutychus -can hardly be called a case in point); thirdly the precept is recorded -by only one Evangelist;[21] fourthly that same Evangelist records only -one case in which our Lord Himself raised any one from the dead, _i.e._ -the revivified daughter of Jairus—and it seems absurd to represent -Christ as commanding all the Apostles to do that which most of them -probably never did, and He Himself (according to the First Gospel) only -did once. - -We pass now to another cause that may have originated miraculous -narratives in the Gospels. Try to extricate yourself from our Western, -cold-blooded, analytical, and critical way of looking at things. Sit -down in the reign of Vespasian or Domitian in the midst of a -congregation of Jewish and Græco-Oriental brethren, assembled for a -sacred service, “singing a hymn” (as Pliny says, describing them a few -years afterwards) “to Christ as to a God.” What effect on the traditions -of Christ’s life and works would be produced by these “hymns and -spiritual songs” which St. Paul’s testimony (as well as Pliny’s) shows -to have been a common part of the earliest Christian ritual? Would they -not inevitably tend, by poetic hyperbole and metaphor, to build up fresh -traditions which, when literally interpreted, would—like the songs and -psalms of the Chosen People—give rise to miraculous narratives? Part of -the service indeed would not consist of hymns but of the reading of the -“Scriptures” _i.e._ the Old Testament; but this also would tend in the -same direction. For there you would hear, read out to the congregation, -marvellous prophecies how, in the day of the Lord the Redeemer, the eyes -of the blind should be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped, and -the lame should leap as a hart; and the sole thought possessing you and -every man in the congregation would be, “How far did all these things -find fulfilment in the Lord Jesus Christ?” You would hear from the -“Scriptures” narratives of marvellous miracles, how Moses gave water -from the rock to Israel in the wilderness and fed them with food from -Heaven, how Elijah raised the widow’s child from death, and how Jonah -spent three days in the belly of the fish; and the sole thought -possessing you would be, “How far were like wonders wrought by Christ?” -Then would arise the hymn describing, in imagery borrowed from the Old -Testament, how Christ _had_ done all these things, and more besides, for -the spiritual Israel; how He had spread a table for His people in the -wilderness, and given to thousands to partake of His body and His blood; -how Moses had merely given water to the people, but Jesus had changed -the water of the Jews (_i.e._ the Law) into the wine which flowed from -His side; how Jesus had fulfilled the predictions of the prophets by -curing the halt, the maimed, the blind, the leper, the deaf; how He had -even raised the dead and bidden His disciples to raise the dead; how He, -like Jonah, had spent three days in the darkness of the grave. If you -look at the earliest Christian paintings you will find that they -represent Christ as the Fish (the emblem of food); others depict the -Mosaic miracles of the manna and the water from the rock. These shew -what a hold the notion of the miraculous food had taken on the mind of -the earliest believers. How easy it would be to amplify a metaphor -derived from the Eucharistic feeding on the Bread of Life and perhaps on -the “honey-sweet fish” (as Christ is actually called in a poem written -about the middle of the second century) into a miraculous account of the -feeding of many thousands upon material bread and material fish! It is -greatly to be regretted that we have not one left out of the many hymns -and psalms of which St. Paul and Pliny make mention. The only vestige of -one that I know is found in a verse of St. Paul’s Epistle to the -Ephesians. It is at all events printed by Westcott and Hort as poetry, -and it is thought by many commentators to be an extract from some -well-known hymn (Eph. v. 14): - - “Wherefore (he) saith, - Awake thou that sleepest - And arise from the dead - And Christ shall shine upon thee.” - -This perhaps is our only specimen of the earliest Christian hymnals. -Surely then it is noticeable that in three lines of this unique specimen -there are three metaphors, and in the second line a metaphorical use of -the word “dead” which—as I have pointed out above—has probably elsewhere -resulted in serious misunderstanding. - -After the hymn would come the sermon. The preacher would stand up like -Apollos to “prove from the Scriptures,” that is, from the Old Testament, -that Jesus is the Christ. If you wish to know how some of the Christian -Preachers would probably discharge their task you should look at the -Dialogue with Trypho written (about a hundred years after Apollos) by -Justin Martyr—who, I take it, was very much superior in judgment, -learning, and ability, to the great mass of Christian Preachers in the -first and second centuries. There—among many other instances of the -adaptation of history to preconception—you will find Justin declaring -that Jesus was born in a cave, and that the ass on which He rode into -Jerusalem was tied to a vine, simply because certain prophecies of -Isaiah mention a cave and a vine, and because he is determined to find -fulfilments of them in the life of Christ. But in the early times of -Apollos, and during the next twenty or thirty years, before the Gospels -had been committed to writing, there must have been a far stronger -gravitation towards the Old Testament and a far more powerful tendency -to find something in the life of Christ to fulfil every prediction about -the Messiah and to correspond to every miracle wrought by Moses and the -prophets. Judged in the light of these considerations, our present -record of Christ’s life ought to surprise us not by the number, but by -the paucity, of the fulfilments of prophecy and the miracles contained -in them. - -Against these arguments for the antecedent probability that miracles -would be baselessly imputed to Jesus (to be followed presently by a few -instances to shew that they have been so imputed) I know nothing that -has been recently urged except a consideration drawn from the life of -John the Baptist: “To the Baptist no miracle has been imputed by the -Gospels; to Christ miracles have been imputed; why not to both? What is -the reason for this distinction except that the former did not perform -miracles, while the latter did?” Two reasons can be given. In the first -place Christ worked “mighty works,” while John did not; and since many -of these “mighty works” could not in the first century be distinguished -from “miracles,” they served as a nucleus round which a miraculous -narrative might gather; in the history of the Baptist there would be no -such nucleus. The second and perhaps more important reason is, that, as -a counterpoise to the natural exaggerative tendency which might have led -men to attribute miracles to the Baptist, there would be also a tendency -to heighten the contrast between the Servant and the Master. This -tendency appears to me to increase in the later Gospels till at last in -the Fourth we come to the express statement, “John worked no miracle” -(John x. 41). But whether I am right or not in this conjecture, it is -quite certain that the attitude of the Christians towards the mere -forerunner of the Messiah—about whom the Prophets had simply predicted -that he would “turn the hearts of the children to the fathers”—would not -be such as to render likely any imputations of miracles to him. At -Ephesus, in the days of St. Paul, there were some quasi-Christians who -had received none but “John’s Baptism,” and had “not so much as heard -whether there is a Holy Ghost.” That gives us a much stronger impression -of the Prophet’s influence, and a much weaker impression of the -prevalence of the doctrine about the Holy Spirit in the earliest -Christian teaching, than we should have inferred from what we read in -the Fourth Gospel: was it likely, when the Baptist’s influence seemed to -the contemporaries of St. Paul still so powerful (perhaps too powerful) -that they would be tempted unconsciously to magnify it by casting round -him that halo of miraculous action which naturally gathered around the -life of Christ? - -Does it seem to you very hard, and almost cruelly unnatural, that the -life of the Baptist—in whom the world takes comparatively little -interest—should be handed down with historical accuracy (at least so far -as miracles are concerned) while the life of Christ, the centre of the -hopes and fears of the civilized world, has been permitted by Providence -to become a nucleus for illusion and superstition as well as for the -righteous faith and love of mankind? It is hard; it is not unnatural. - - “When beggars die there are no comets seen; - The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.” - -What does Shakespeare mean by this except to exemplify the universal, -and natural, but illusive belief, that whatever affects the greatest man -must also affect material nature? Therefore in proportion to the -greatness of any man we must expect that the illusions about him will be -great in the minds of posterity. How indeed could it be otherwise? -Reflect for a moment. Jesus came into the world to be a spiritual -Saviour, a spiritual Judge; but how few there were in those days who -could fully appreciate even the meaning of these titles! Do you -yourself, even at this date, after the lapse of eighteen centuries, -grasp firmly this notion of spiritual judgment? Reverence can hardly -restrain you from smiling at the Apostles for their unspiritual dreams -of a “carnal” empire with twelve tangible thrones to be set up for their -twelve selves in Palestine; but you yourself, have you never, at all -events in younger days, dreamed sometimes of a visible white throne on -material clouds, of a visible and perhaps tangible trumpet, of an -audible verdict of “Guilty” or “Not guilty” externally pronounced on -each soul? perhaps also of palpable palm branches, and of I know not -what more sensuous apparatus, without which you can scarcely realize the -notion of the Day of Judgment? And yet all these are adventitious and -accidental accompaniments of the real and essential “judgment” which is -in Greek the “sifting” or “division” _i.e._ the division between good -and evil in the heart of each one of us. But I doubt even now whether -you understand the meaning of this spiritual “division” or judgment. Let -me try to explain it. Have you not at any time suddenly, in a flash, -been brought face to face with some revelation of goodness, some good -person, or action, or book, or word, or thoughts—which in a moment, -before you were aware, has lighted up all the black caverns of your -nature and made your mind’s eye realize them, and your conscience abhor -them, setting your higher nature against your lower nature, so that, -without your knowing it, this angelic visitant has taken hold of you, -carried away the better part of you along with itself into higher -regions of purer thought than yours, from whence your better nature is -forced to look down upon, and condemn, your lower and grosser self? This -“division” is the operation of the two-edged sword of the Spirit; and -when a man’s cheeks flush with shame, or his heart feels crushed with -remorse, under this “dividing” power, and he _feels_ the verdict “I am -guilty,” then he is being judged far more effectually than any earthly -law court could judge him. Now it is this kind of judgment that Jesus -had in mind when He spoke of the judgment of the world by the Son of -Man. In this sense He has been judging, is judging, and will judge, till -the Great Judgment consummates the story of such things as are to be -judged. But how little has the world realized this! - -Probably some would have realized less of the spiritual if they had -imagined less of the material. You know how the English judges of our -times still insist on much of the old pomp and ceremony which in the -days of our forefathers was thought necessary in order to make justice -venerable. The trumpets, and the javelin-men, and the sheriffs in the -procession, the wig and gown and bands in court—they all seem a little -ridiculous to most of us now; yet possibly the judges are right in -retaining them. Possibly our brutal English nature will need for some -decades longer these antique and now meaningless trappings before they -will be able to respect the just judge for the sake of justice itself. -And in the same way, from the days of Clovis to those of Napoleon, many -a man who would have found it impossible to realize the righteous Judge -as the invisible wielder of the two-edged sword of the Spirit, has felt -a fear, which perhaps did more good than harm, at the thought of the -opening graves, the unclothed trembling dead, the thunder-pealing -verdict and the flames of a material hell. Who also can deny that the -illusion which has represented Jesus as having possessed and exerted the -power to cure every imaginable disease of the body, has led many to -realize Him as the Healer of something more than material disease, in a -manner otherwise impossible for masses of men living under an oppression -which often scarcely left them the consciousness that they possessed -anything but bodies wherewith to serve their masters? - -Do not suppose, because I am forced by evidence to reject the miracles, -that I am blind to the part that they once played in facilitating faith -in Christ. A whole essay, a volume of essays might be written on that -subject, without fear of exaggeration. The Miraculous Conception, the -Miraculous Resurrection and Ascension, the miracles of the feeding of -the four thousand and of the five thousand,—it would be quite possible -to shew from Christian literature and history, how in times gone by, -when laws of nature were unrecognized, these supposed incidents of -Christ’s life not only found their way into men’s minds without -hesitation and without a strain upon intellect or conscience, but also -conveyed to the human heart, each in its own way, some deep spiritual -truth satisfying some deep spiritual need. It is the old lesson once -more repeated: the eyes take in, as a picture, what the ears fail to -convey to the brain or heart, when expressed in mere words. - -But now, there are abundant symptoms that the tempers and minds of men -are greatly changed. Men’s minds are more open than before to the need -of some spiritual bond to keep society together; and the character and -spiritual claims of Christ, and the marvellous results that have -followed from His life and death, are beginning (I think) to be -recognized with more spontaneousness and with less of superstitious -formalism. On the other hand, the vast regularity of Nature has so come -home to our hearts that some believe in it as if it had a divine -sanctity; the thought of praying that the sun or moon may stand still -shocks us as a profanity; and boys and girls, as they stand opposite to -some picture setting forth a Bible miracle, look puzzled and perplexed, -or, if they are a little older, say with a sententious smile that “the -age of miracles is past.” In a word, that very element of inexplicable -wonder which once strengthened the faith, now weakens it, by furnishing -weapons to its assailants, and by inducing rash believers to take up and -defend against sceptics a position that is indefensible. - -In any case, it is the duty of each generation of Christians to put -aside, as far as it can, the illusions of the previous generation and to -rise higher to the fuller knowledge of Christ; for the outworn and -undiscarded illusions of one generation become the hypocrisies of the -next. The illusions of the permanence of the Mosaic Law, of the speedy -Consummation, of Transubstantiation, of the Infallible Church, of the -Infallible Book, have all been in due course put away. A candid and -modest Christian ought surely to argue that, where so many illusions -have already been discarded—and all without injury to the worship of -Christ—some may remain to be discarded still, and equally without injury -to the Eternal Truth. - -What if miraculous Christianity is to natural Christianity as the -Ptolemaic astronomy is to the Newtonian? Both of these astronomical -systems were of practical utility; both could predict eclipses; both -revealed God as a God of order. But the former imputed to the unmoving -sun the terrestrial motion which the latter correctly imputed to the -earth; the former explained by a number of arbitrary, non-natural, and -quasi-miraculous suppositions—spheres, and spirals, and epicycles, and -the like—phenomena which the latter more simply explained by one -celestial curve traced out in accordance with one fixed law. I believe -that in religion also we have made a similar mistake and are being -prepared for a similar correction. We have imputed to Christ some -actions which have sprung from the promptings of our own -imaginations—imaging forth what _our_ ideal Deliverer would have -done—and which have represented, not His motions, but the motions of our -own hearts. By what we have euphemistically denominated “latent laws,” -that is to say by hypotheses as arbitrary and baseless as the old -epicycles, unsupported by sufficient evidence and inconsistent with all -that we see and hear and feel around us in God’s world, we have -endeavoured to explain a Redemption which no more needs such -explanations than forgiveness needs them—a Redemption which is as -natural (that is to say, as much in accordance with the laws of physical -nature and the ordinary processes of human nature) as that Law of Love, -or Spiritual gravitation, which may be illustrated in the microcosm of -every human household. Now we are to learn the new truth: and as the God -of Newton is greater (is He not?) than the God of Ptolemy, so let us not -doubt that the God revealed in spiritual Christianity will be greater -than the God revealed in material and miraculous Christianity. The new -heavens will not cease to declare the glory of God; the new firmament -will not fail to tell of His handiwork. - -Footnote 21: - - Of course its omission by the other Evangelists might indicate that - the words were not uttered by Jesus; but it might also indicate that - the precept, being generally misunderstood, was considered so strange - and at variance with facts that it had come to be discredited and - considered spurious. - - - - - XVIII - ARE THE MIRACLES INSEPARABLE FROM THE LIFE OF CHRIST? - - -MY DEAR ——, - -From the digressions concerning the growth of the Gospels and the -possibility or probability that their truths would be conveyed through -illusion I now return to our main subject, the question whether the life -of Christ can be disentangled from miracles. And here you tell me that -some of your agnostic and sceptical friends quote with great -satisfaction the following sentence from Bishop Temple’s recent _Bampton -Lectures_[22]: “Many of our Lord’s most characteristic sayings are so -associated with narratives of miracles that the two cannot be torn -apart.” I can well believe what you tell me as to the advantage which -they naturally take of this admission: “Here,” they say, “is a statement -made on high authority that, unless you can believe that Jesus worked -_bonâ fide_ miracles, such as the blasting of the fig tree and the -destruction of the swine, you must give up ‘many of Christ’s most -characteristic sayings’ in other words, you must give up the hope of -knowing what Jesus taught.” I wish your friends, who quote this -assertion with so much pleasure, would also have quoted the -“characteristic sayings” alleged by Dr. Temple in proof of this -assertion; for you would then have seen for yourself that many of these -“characteristic sayings” are associated not with “miracles” but with -“mighty works;” and I am sure you have not forgotten the difference -between the two.[23] - -For example the first of the “characteristic sayings” is, “Son, thy sins -be forgiven thee.” Now these words were spoken to the paralytic man; -and, as we have seen above, the cure of paralysis by appeal to the -emotions—although a remarkable act, and although, if permanent, so -remarkable as to deserve to be called “a mighty work”—cannot be called a -miracle. But I need say no more of this, as I have treated of cures by -“emotional shock” in a previous letter. Now all the other sayings quoted -by Dr. Temple refer to “faith” or “believing;” and all, I think, are -connected with acts of healing. There may be doubtless in some of our -present accounts of the “mighty works” some inaccuracies or -exaggerations as to the nature of the disease and the circumstances of -the cure. For example, when the cure is said to have been performed at a -distance from the patient, either (1) faith must have wrought in the -patient by his knowledge that his friends were interceding with Christ, -or (2) we must assume some very doubtful theory of “brain-wave” -sympathy, or admit that (3) the story is exaggerated, or else that (4) -there is a _bonâ fide_ miracle. For my own part I waver, in such cases -as that of the centurion’s servant and the Syro-Phœnician’s daughter, -between the hypotheses which I have numbered (1) and (3), with a -sentimental reserve in favour of (2); but any one of these seems to me -so far more probable than the hypothesis of a suspension of the laws of -nature that I do not feel in the least constrained by reason of such -“characteristic sayings” concerning faith, to give in my adhesion to a -narrative of miracle. On the contrary I say the mention of “faith,” and -Christ’s “marvel” at faith, and His eulogy of the “greatness” of the -“faith” in certain cases, all go to prove that these acts were not -miracles, but simply acts of faith-healing on a colossal scale. I hope -you will not feel inclined to sneer at the reservation in those last -four words. You will surely admit that, if Christ did anything -naturally, the result might be proportionate to His nature; and if His -power of appealing to the emotions was colossal, the material result of -that appeal might be proportionately colossal. I begin, therefore, the -process of disentanglement between the historical and the miraculous in -Christ’s life by a protest against a hasty and blind confusion which -refuses to discriminate between “miracles” and “mighty works,” and calls -on us to reject from the history not only the miraculous but the -marvellous as well; and I assert that the acts of faith healing with -which, as Bishop Temple truly says, there are associated many of our -Lord’s most characteristic sayings, may be accepted as generally -historical and natural. - -This, however, would not apply to such a miracle as the restoration of -the ear of the high priest’s servant; and the reasons are obvious. The -faith necessary for an act of emotional healing is not said to have -existed, and is not likely to have existed, in a man who probably looked -on Christ as an impostor. Even if it had existed, the case was not one -where we have reason to think faith could have healed. Besides, the -miracle is omitted by three out of the four Evangelists. It is possibly -a mistaken inference from some tradition about an utterance of Jesus, -“Suffer ye thus far;” which may have really had an entirely different -meaning, but which led the third Evangelist to conclude that Jesus -desired His captors to give Him so much liberty as would allow him to -perform this act of mercy—a humane and picturesque thought, but not -history. It is scarcely conceivable that the other three Evangelists -should have mentioned the wound inflicted on the servant; that Matthew -and John should have added a rebuke addressed by Jesus to Peter for -inflicting it; and that John should have taken the pains to tell us the -name of the high priest’s servant and yet that they should have omitted, -if they actually knew, the fact that the wound was immediately and -miraculously healed by Jesus. The irresistible conclusion is that St. -Mark, St. Matthew, and St. John, knew nothing of this miracle. - -When the acts of healing are set apart, and considered as “mighty works” -but not “miracles,” the _bonâ fide_ miracles in the Synoptic Gospels -will become few indeed: and I think it will be found that these few are -susceptible of explanation on natural grounds. We will pass over the -finding of the coin in the fish’s mouth which is found in St. Matthew’s -Gospel alone and can hardly be associated with any “characteristic -saying” of Jesus—and come to a miracle common to the three Synoptists, -the destruction of two thousand swine following on the exorcism of the -Gadarene. - -This is a very curious case of misunderstanding arising from literalism. -It was a common belief in Palestine (as it was also in Europe during the -middle ages), that the bodies of the “possessed,” or insane, were -tenanted by familiar demons in various shapes—toads, scorpions, swine, -serpents, and the like. These demons were supposed to have as their -normal home an “abyss” or “deep” (Luke viii. 31, ἄβυσσον); but this they -abhorred, and were never so happy as when they found a home in some -human body. The “possessed” believed that these demons were visible and -material; and the juggling exorcist would sometimes (so Josephus tells -us) place a bucket of water to be overturned by the demons in passing, -as a proof that they were driven out. In a word, the “possessed” could -hardly be convinced that he was cured, unless he saw, or thought he saw, -the frogs, serpents, scorpions, or swine actually rushing from his mouth -in some definite direction. - -The explanation of the miracle will now readily suggest itself to you. -Some man, perhaps a patriotic Galilean, to whom nothing would be more -hateful than a Roman army, conceived himself to be possessed by a whole -“legion,” two thousand “unclean swine.” Identifying himself—as was the -habit of those who were “possessed”—with the demons whom he supposed to -have possession of him, the insane man declared that his name was -“Legion, for we are many” and they (or he) besought Jesus that He would -not drive them into the “deep,” _i.e._ into the “abyss” above-mentioned. -But by the voice of Jesus the man is instantaneously healed: he sees the -legion of demons that had possessed him rushing forth in the shapes of -two thousand swine and hurrying down into “the deep;” and what he sees, -he loudly proclaims to the bystanders. It is easy to perceive how on -some such a basis of fact there might be built the tradition that Jesus -healed a demoniac whose name was Legion, and sent two thousand swine -into the deep sea; and from thence by easy stages the tradition might -arrive at its present shape. - -So far, I think, you do not find it very difficult to separate the -miraculous from the historical in the life of Christ, nor feel yourself -forced to sacrifice any of the “most characteristic sayings of Jesus.” -Let us now come to a miracle of greater difficulty, the blasting of the -barren fig-tree. - -Even of those commentators who accept the miracle of the fig-tree as -historical, most, I believe, see in it a kind of parable. The barren -fig-tree, they say, which made a great show of leaves but bore no fruit, -obviously represents, in the first place, the Pharisees, and in the -second place, the nation, which, as a whole, identified itself with the -Pharisees. Both the Prophets and the Psalms delight in similar -metaphors. Israel is the vine; Jehovah, in Isaiah, is the Lord of the -vine, who demands good fruit and finds it not, and consequently resolves -to destroy the vine. So here, the Lord comes to the fig-tree of -Phariseeism, the tree of degenerate Israel, seeking fruit; and finding -none, He curses it, and withers it with the breath of His mouth. Is it -not easy to see how a parable, thus expressed in the hymns and earliest -traditions of the Church, might speedily be literalized and give rise to -a miraculous narrative? - -Let me point out to you a curious fact confirmatory of this view. I dare -say you may have noticed that St. Luke, although he agrees with St. Mark -and St. Matthew in the context of this miracle, omits the miracle -itself. Why so? Is it because he never heard of the miracle? Not quite -so. It is because he had heard of it in a slightly different form, not -as a miracle but as a parable, which he alone has preserved. St. Luke’s -version of the tradition is that the Lord comes to the barren tree and, -finding no fruit on it, gives orders that it is to be cut down: but the -steward of the farm pleads for a respite; let the ground be digged and -manured, then, if there be no fruit, let it be cut down. A similar -thought, you see, is here expressed in two different shapes, a -miraculous and a non-miraculous; and it is not difficult to understand -how the former may have been developed from the latter. - -But I see that your last letter has a remark on this very miracle, and -on the difficulty of rejecting it. “It is associated,” you say, “with -one of the most characteristic sayings of Jesus: for it is in connection -with the withering of the fig-tree that Jesus says (Matt. xxi. 21), ‘If -ye have faith, ye shall not only do _what is done to the fig-tree_, but -even if ye shall say unto this mountain, Be thou taken up and cast into -the sea, it shall be done.’” “Here,” you say, “we have a characteristic -saying of Jesus expressly referring to something done, and done -miraculously.” - -Would it not have been wise, before making so emphatic a statement, to -consider how St. Mark, the earlier of the two narrators of this miracle, -sets forth the comment of Jesus? The comments run thus in the first two -Gospels, and I will add a parallel saying from the third Gospel, not -attached to any miracle: - -[Transcriber’s Note: The following three quotations were originally -printed side-by-side.] - - Mark xi. 21-23. - - And Peter, calling to remembrance, saith unto him, “Rabbi, behold - the fig tree which thou cursedst is withered away.” And Jesus - answering saith unto them, “Have faith in God. Verily I say unto - you, Whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou taken up and - cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall - believe that what he saith cometh to pass; he shall have it.” - - Matthew xxi. 20-21. - - And when the disciples saw it, they marvelled, saying, “How did the - fig tree immediately wither away?” And Jesus said unto them, “Verify - I say unto you, If ye have faith, and doubt not, ye shall [_not only - do what is done to the fig tree, but even if ye shall_] say unto - this mountain, Be thou taken up and cast into the sea, it shall be - done.” - - Luke xvii. 5-6. - - And the apostles said unto the Lord “Increase our faith.” And the - Lord said, “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye would - say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou rooted up, and be thou planted - in the sea; and it would have obeyed you.” - -You see then that the more authoritative (because earlier) of our two -witnesses omits those very words on which you lay so much stress, the -“express reference to something done, and done miraculously.” And ought -not this fact to make you pause and ask yourself “Am I really to suppose -that the Lord Jesus encouraged His disciples to command material -mountains to be cast into the sea, and material trees to be destroyed? -Did He Himself so habitually act thus that He could naturally urge His -disciples to do the like? Does it not seem, literally taken, advice -contrary not only to common sense but also to a reverent appreciation of -the law and order of nature?” I would suggest to you that you might -weigh the inherent improbability of the words in St. Matthew (literally -taken), as well as the external probability—which I will now endeavour -to shew—that the whole passage was metaphorical. - -We know from St. Paul’s works, as well as from Rabbinical literature, -that “to move mountains” was a common metaphor to express intellectual -or spiritual ability. St. Paul speaks of faith that would “move -mountains;” and you will find in Lightfoot’s _Horae Hebraicae_ (ii. p. -285), “There was not such another _rooter up of mountains_ as Ben -Azzai.” Now we know from St. Luke’s Gospel (xvii. 6), that Jesus used a -similar metaphor of trees, as well as of mountains, to exemplify the -power of faith; and this without any reference to “something done and -done miraculously:” “If ye have _faith_ as a grain of mustard seed, ye -would say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou _rooted up and planted in the -sea_; and it would have obeyed.” Planted in the sea! Can you dream that -so preposterous a portent could have been prayed for by any sane and -sober follower of Christ in compliance with his Master’s suggestion? -Bear in mind that these words in St. Luke’s Gospel were uttered a long -time before the blasting of the fig tree is supposed to have happened, -and at a different place. Does not then a comparison of this passage -with the other two make it probable that Jesus was in the habit of -encouraging His disciples to be “pluckers up of mountains” and “rooters -up of trees,” not literally but metaphorically, meaning thereby that -they were to attempt and accomplish the greatest feats of faith? - -You will, perhaps, be surprised when you find what it was that Jesus -regarded as the greatest feat of faith in the passage of St. Luke just -mentioned. It was a feat of which we are accustomed to think rather -lightly; partly, perhaps, because we are often contented with the -appearance of it without the reality: it was simply forgiveness. He had -told the disciples they must forgive “till seventy times seven:” The -Apostles, in despair, replied “Increase our faith:” and then Jesus tells -them that if they had but a germ of living trust, they could become -“uprooters of sycamine trees,” in other words they could perform -forgiveness, the greatest feat of faith. But perhaps you will say, “At -all events in St. Mark, the earliest authority for the miracle of the -blasting of the fig-tree, there is no mention of forgiveness, and -nothing that would indicate that his version of the words of Jesus -referred to what you call ‘the greatest feat of faith,’ _i.e._ -forgiveness.” On the contrary, you will find that St. Mark, with some -apparent confusion of different thoughts, retains the trace of the -original spiritual signification of the words (Mark xi. 22-25): “Have -_faith_ in God. Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall say unto this -mountain, Be thou taken up and cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in -his heart but shall believe that what he saith cometh to pass, he shall -have it. _Therefore_ I say unto you, All things whatsoever ye pray and -ask for, believe that ye have received them, and ye shall have them; -_And whensoever ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have aught against any -one_; that your Father which is in heaven may forgive your trespasses.” - -I contend that, upon the whole, an impartial critic must come to the -conclusion that neither the miracle, nor the reference to the miracle, -is historical; and that, in all probability, both the miracle and the -reference to it arose from a misunderstanding, without any intention to -deceive. We must remember that the “short sayings” of the Lord Jesus—as -they are called by some early writer, Justin, I think—must have caused -considerable difficulty to the compilers of the earliest Gospels in the -attempt to arrange them in order. Pointed, pithy, and brief, pregnant -with meaning, sometimes obscured by metaphor, many of these sayings, if -taken out of their context, were very liable to be misunderstood. Some -compilers might think it best, as the author of St. Matthew’s Gospel has -done in the Sermon on the Mount, to group a number of these sayings -together without connection; others, as the author of St. Luke’s Gospel, -might object to this arrangement, and might make it a main object to set -forth these sayings “in order,” attaching to each its appropriate and -explanatory context. Now to apply this to the particular case of the -legend of the fig-tree. It seems probable that the compilers had before -them two traditions, one, a parable about a barren fig-tree destroyed by -the Lord of the vine-yard because it bore no fruit; another, a precept -about the power of faith in uprooting a mountain or a tree, _i.e._ in -achieving the greatest of spiritual tasks, the task of forgiving. St. -Luke interpreted both the parable and the precept spiritually, and kept -the two distinct. St. Mark interpreted the parable literally and adopted -the tradition which made it refer to an actual destruction of a tree; he -also appended to it the saying on the power of faithful prayer to work -any wonders soever, as being an appropriate comment on so startling a -miracle; but he did not think fit to adapt the saying to the miracle by -any insertion of the word “tree” (“Verily I say unto you, whosoever -shall say unto this mountain, Be thou taken up” &c.); and he retained -the old connection of the saying with forgiveness. St. Matthew—of -course, when I say St. Matthew, I mean the unknown authors or compilers -of the Gospel called by his name—is more consistent. He, like St. Mark -interprets the parable literally, and he appends to it the saying on the -power of faithful prayer; but he inserts in the latter an express -reference to the miracle which, according to his hypothesis, had -recently been worked before the eyes of the Disciples and could hardly -therefore fail to be mentioned: “If ye have faith and doubt not, ye -shall [_not only do what is done to the fig-tree, but even if ye shall_] -say unto this mountain,” &c. In order to complete the adaptation, he -also omits the words that connect the saying with forgiveness, and -relegates them to the Sermon on the Mount (vi. 14, 15) which he makes -the receptacle for all those sayings of Jesus for which he can find no -special time and place. - -“All this is shadowy, barely possible, mere conjecture.” I maintain that -conjecture, fairly supported, is enough to give the finishing blow to -all faith in a miracle so different from Christ’s other “mighty works” -as this of the fig-tree. Before finally and utterly rejecting a story -found in a generally truthful narrative we wish not only to know that -the story is improbable, but also to answer the question, “How may it -have crept into the narrative?” The above conjecture supplies a fairly -probable answer to that question; and the combined result of the -evidence for the probability of some rational explanation, and against -the probability of the miraculous occurrence, is so great that I can -feel no hesitation in rejecting the miracle of the fig-tree and in -declaring that the “characteristic sayings” of Jesus about the uprooting -of mountains and trees were never intended to be literally understood. - -And now, before going further, ask yourself once more, “What have I -lost, so far, by giving up the miracles of Jesus? Does He sink in my -estimation because He did not blast a fig-tree or destroy two thousand -swine, or draw a fish with a stater in its mouth to the hook of Peter? -Or have I lost a precious and ‘characteristic saying’ of Jesus because I -no longer believe that He really encouraged His disciples to pray for -the uprooting of material mountains and material trees?” I am quite sure -your conscience must reply that you have hitherto lost nothing. If so, -take courage, and follow on step by step where the argument leads you. - -Footnote 22: - - Page 153. - -Footnote 23: - - See above, p. 158. - - - - - XIX - THE MIRACLES OF FEEDING - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You remind me that I have omitted the most important of all those -sayings of Christ which are associated with miracles—the passage in -which he comments on the feeding of the Four Thousand and on that of the -Five Thousand, as two separate acts, apparently implying their -miraculous nature. I have not forgotten it; but I reserved it to the -last because it is, as you justly say, the most important and the most -difficult of all; but I believe it to be susceptible of explanation. - -Let us first have the facts before us. In the Gospels of St. Matthew -(viii. 15) and St. Mark (xvi. 6) Jesus is introduced as bidding the -Disciples “beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of -Herod” (or, as Matthew, “the Sadducees.”) Upon this the disciples, as -usual, interpret the words of Jesus literally; they suppose that, since -they have forgotten to bring bread with them (for they had but one loaf) -their Master wishes to warn them to beware of leaven during the -approaching feast of Passover or unleavened bread. Hereupon Jesus, in -order to shew them that He was not speaking literally, rebukes their -dull and literalizing minds as follows:— - - Mark viii. 17-21. - - “Why reason ye because ye have no bread? Do ye not yet perceive?... - When I brake the five loaves among the five thousand, how many - baskets full of broken pieces took ye up?” They say unto him, - “Twelve.” “And when the seven among the four thousand, how many - baskets full of broken pieces took ye up?” And they say unto him, - “Seven.” And he said unto them, “Do ye not yet understand?” - - Matthew xvi. 8-12. - - “Why reason ye among yourselves because ye have no bread? Do ye not - yet perceive neither remember the five loaves of the five thousand - and how many baskets took ye up? Neither the seven loaves of the - four thousand and how many baskets ye took up? How is it that ye do - not perceive that I spake not to you concerning bread? But beware of - the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” Then understood they how - that he bade them not beware of the leaven of bread, but of the - teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees. - -Now before I proceed further I must point out to you that these words -are not found in St. Luke’s Gospel. For my own part I am disposed to -believe them to be genuine, though not quite in the exact form in which -we now find them. I think St. Luke may have omitted them because he -found some difficulty or obscurity in them; or because he did not know -of them; or perhaps because he did not know of, or did not accept, the -feeding of the Four Thousand, to which they refer. But suppose we are -forced to give them up as altogether spurious, that is to say, as not -being genuine words of Jesus, though genuine parts of the first and -second Gospels; what is the consequence? Simply that we shall be reduced -to St. Luke’s version of the words, which is as follows (Luke xii. 1): -“Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees which is hypocrisy.” Can we -say that St. Luke has herein omitted words that are essential to the -life of Christ, or that we have lost anything of the highest importance, -or even that we have lost a very “characteristic saying” of Jesus in -omitting the statistical comparison which St. Luke omits? I think not. - -But now let us assume that Jesus uttered these words or something like -them. I think you would perceive that they could be interpreted -metaphorically, if you could only comprehend how the accounts of the -miraculous feeding of the Four Thousand and of the Five Thousand -(obviously literal as they now stand in our Gospels) could be referred -to as spiritual incidents. In order to answer this question we must now -pass to the narratives of the two miracles themselves. I suppose even -those who accept them literally would admit that they are emblematic, -and that they represent Jesus, the Bread of Life, giving Himself for the -world. The Fourth Gospel manifests this in the subsequent discourse -where the feeding on the bread and fishes introduces the subject of the -feeding on the flesh and blood of Christ. The notion that we feed on the -Word of God, first found in Deuteronomy (viii. 3), pervades all Jewish -literature. It is found in Philo (i. 119): “The soul is nourished not on -earthly and corruptible food, but on the _words_ which Gods rains down -out of His sublime and pure nature which He calls heaven.” It reappears -in the account of our Lord’s temptation, when He replies to Satan, -quoting Deut. viii. 3, “Man shall not live by bread alone but by every -_word_ that proceedeth out of the mouth of God;” and again (John iv. -32), “I have _meat_ to eat that ye know not.” - -On that last occasion the Fourth Gospel tells us that the disciples -actually misunderstood the metaphor and interpreted it literally; and to -this day I dare say many would give a literal interpretation to the -“daily bread” of the Lord’s prayer; but there can be little doubt that -Jesus meant by “bread” every gift and blessing that constitutes life, -and primarily the spiritual sustenance of the soul. As to the emblematic -use of the “fish,” it cannot be traced to the Old Testament; but in a -very early period of the existence of the Church, as early as the reign -of Vespasian, we find the Fish in rude paintings representing the -Eucharistic food of the faithful; and it is said that this appellation -was given to Jesus from the initial letters of the Greek title I(esous) -Ch(ristos) Th(eou) U(ios) S(oter) [Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour] -because they made up the Greek word _Ichthus_, fish. About the middle of -the second century we find one of the earliest extant Christian poems -describing how the Church everywhere presented to the faithful, as their -food, “the Fish, great and pure, which the Holy Virgin had caught.” The -poet evidently did not invent this metaphor; it was established, -intelligible, and inherited, at the time when he used it, and must have -been in use much earlier. To speak of “crumbs” metaphorically may -perhaps seem to us a bold metaphor, but it may be illustrated by the -dialogue between Jesus and the Syro-Phœnician woman: “It is not meet to -take the children’s food and cast it unto dogs:” “Truth, Lord; yet even -the dogs eat of the _crumbs_ which fall from the master’s table.” Now it -was a common-place in the doctrine of Jesus that every disciple who -ministered the Word or Bread of Life invariably received it back in -ample measure: “Freely ye have received, freely give.” Give what? -Certainly not material bread, but the truth or bread of life. And again, -“Give, and it shall be given unto you: good measure pressed down and -running over shall THEY[24] give into your bosom.” Again, I ask, give -what? What but the spiritual Bread, which, by the laws of spiritual -nature, cannot be freely given without a yet more rich return into the -giver’s heart? It was this Bread that Christ ministered to His disciples -and bade them set before the people; it was this Bread which the -disciples found multiplied in their hands so that it sufficed for all, -and they themselves were fed from the crumbs that fell from the food. - -In course of time the story of this spiritual banquet finding its way -into Christian hymns and traditions would be literalized and amplified -with variations. As Moses “spread a table” for Israel “in the -wilderness,” so also, it would be said, did Jesus of Nazareth when he -fed thousands of His followers on divine Bread. The Fish, _which is not -mentioned in our Lord’s dialogue with the Disciples_, might naturally he -added to the Bread, in the narrative, as a Eucharistic emblem. If the -Fish had been mentioned by our Lord in the dialogue under question, my -explanation would at once fall to the ground; but it is not mentioned; -and the only difficulty is in explaining how Jesus could have spoken -metaphorically of the “seven” as well as the “twelve” baskets. We can -understand the “twelve”—each one of the twelve Apostles who ministered, -receiving a return of spiritual “crumbs”—but whence the “seven?” Here I -can but conjecture. You know that seven is what is called “a sacred -number.” I find in the Fourth Gospel, xxi. 2-14, a story (evidently -emblematic) of a miraculous meal of bread and fishes in which “seven” -apostles took part. This may have been based upon some tradition in -which seven apostles were recorded as having taken part in a spiritual -Eucharistic feeding of the multitude. If that was so, it would follow -that in the latter case there would be “seven baskets” of fragments, as -in the former case there were “twelve,” corresponding to the number of -the ministering apostles: and Jesus, in the dialogue under -consideration, would remind His disciples how on two occasions where the -bread of life was multiplied for the hungry, the twelve Apostles -received the twelve baskets of crumbs, and the seven received the seven. - -What is the argument in the words under consideration, according to your -interpretation? I presume you would take them thus: “Why do you suppose -I am talking about literal bread? Can I not make bread as I please? Do -you not remember my two miracles, and how from five loaves for five -thousand people there came twelve baskets of fragments, while from seven -loaves for four thousand people there came seven baskets?[25] How then -can I (or you while you are with me) be in need of literal bread?” But -this interpretation is open to one serious objection. It is opposed to -the whole tenour of Christ’s life. Nowhere else in the Gospels do we -find that Jesus used any miraculous power to exempt Himself and His -disciples from hunger. We are even taught that on one occasion He -resisted a prompting to turn stones into bread, as being a temptation -from the Evil One. For His disciples he might undoubtedly have been -willing to do what He would not do for Himself; but that Jesus (like -Elisha) so habitually used miraculous powers to shelter His disciples -from the inconveniences and hardships of a wandering life, that he could -encourage them to believe that he would do so on the present occasion, -is a hypothesis quite inconsistent with the Gospel history. Moreover, -plausible although this interpretation may appear to us—because we are -familiar with the literalizing interpretation of the miracles of the -Four Thousand and Five Thousand—it does not, if I may so say, bring out -the proportion of the sentence. Surely it does not sound logical to say, -“Did I not once supply you with bread for four and five thousand people -(literally)? Why then do you not understand that I now speak of ‘leaven’ -metaphorically?” Instead of this, should we not rather expect: “Do you -not remember how on two previous occasions ‘bread’ was used spiritually? -Why then do you not understand that ‘leaven’ is here used spiritually?” -Now this is what I believe to have been the original meaning of the -words, if genuine. I believe that Jesus intended to remind the Disciples -how on two previous occasions the multitude had been fed with the -spiritual Bread, the Bread of Life: “You know that that was what I meant -before, when I spoke of Bread; how is it then that you do not understand -my meaning now when I speak similarly of leaven?” - -I do not pretend to say that this explanation is completely satisfactory -even to me, much less to claim that it should completely satisfy others. -Some may prefer to rationalize the miracle as an exaggeration with a -substratum of fact; others may reject the dialogue as a late -interpolation. Yet even then I think the considerations above -alleged—which I have put forward, on the supposition that the dialogue -is genuine—may go a long way toward shewing how these miraculous stories -may have sprung up without any real basis of miracle, and how, in the -elaboration of these narratives, words that cannot be accepted as -historical may have been attributed to Jesus _without any fraudulent -purpose_. Although I am unwilling to admit (and do not feel called upon -by evidence to admit) that the words and doctrine of Jesus have been -seriously modified to suit the miraculous interpolations of early -Christian times, yet of course (on my hypothesis) some slight occasional -modifications cannot be denied. For example, in the miracle of the Four -Thousand, Jesus is introduced as saying, “How many loaves have ye?” -These words must necessarily be rejected by any one taking my view of -the narrative, as the addition of some later tradition which, -interpreting a metaphor literally, endeavoured to set forth the literal -fact dramatically as it was supposed to have occurred. In the same way -it is possible that the dialogue now under consideration may be an -amplification of a simple rebuke from Jesus to the disciples for -misunderstanding His precept as to leaven, the early tradition having -run somewhat after this fashion: “The Lord spread a table for the hungry -in the wilderness: He gave them bread from heaven to eat. The Lord gave -food unto the multitude through the hands of the Twelve; and in their -hands the Bread of Life was multiplied so that a few loaves satisfied -many thousands. Then did the Lord warn His disciples that they should -_beware of leaven and feed on nought save the one true Bread. But they -understood not His words, and remembered not the mighty works of His -hands_.” It seems to me quite possible, I say, that the dialogue under -discussion may have arisen from an amplification of some such words as -those above italicized; and I am somewhat the more inclined to take this -view because St. Mark’s narrative (the earliest) contains a curious -little detail which looks like a trace of some old hymn about “the one -true Bread” _i.e._ Jesus: “They had not in the boat with them more than -_one loaf_ (Gr. _bread_).” - -If these suggested solutions seem improbable, let me once more remind -you that you have to choose between them and greater improbabilities. -Either the miraculous narrative must be historically true; or it must -have been deliberately fabricated; or it must have sprung into existence -without intention to deceive. As to the improbability of the first of -these solutions, I say nothing, because you have rejected it. Certainly -it would be difficult for a painter to depict in detail the processes -necessitated by this miracle without producing a grotesque impression: -but on this point I am silent, as it is beside my purpose. It remains -therefore for you to decide whether the theory of deliberate falsehood, -or of the unconscious accretions of tradition and misunderstanding of -metaphor, supplies the least improbable explanation. For my part, having -regard to the character of Christ’s disciples, the abundant evidence -that they misunderstood the teaching of their Master, and the frequent -instances of miraculous narrative arising from misunderstanding in other -cases, I have no hesitation in saying that, in this case also, the -hypothesis of deceit is far more improbable than that of -misunderstanding. - -I had not intended to touch on any other miracle; but one more can be so -briefly discussed that I will not omit it. I dare say you have -anticipated (though you have not read _Onesimus_[26]) that I should -explain the “walking on the waves” and the “stilling of the sea” as -narratives derived from early Christian hymns representing the Son of -God as stilling the storms that threaten the bark of the Church. -Nevertheless you may not have perceived how easily a historical and -authentic tradition of the deeds and words of Christ would lend itself -to amplification so as to be elaborated into the full miraculous -narrative as we now find it in the Gospels. Well then, open your Greek -Testament at St. Mark’s narrative (i. 25-27, or Luke iv. 35, 36) of the -exorcism of an unclean spirit. You will there find it stated that Jesus -“rebuked an unclean spirit;” and a somewhat rare word is used to express -the rebuke, “Be thou _muzzled_ (φιμώθητι).” It is further added that the -disciples, in their astonishment, said to one another “What is this? -_With authority he commandeth even the unclean spirits and they obey -him._” Now you know very well that the same Greek word (πνεῦμα) -expresses two totally distinct English words “spirit” and “wind;” but -you may not so well know that the same ambiguity is found in Hebrew. -Look at Psalm civ. 4 in the Old Version, and you will find “Who maketh -his angels (_i.e._ messengers) _spirits_;” but the New Version gives, -more correctly, “Who maketh _winds_ his messengers,” or, “Who maketh his -angels _winds_.” Now suppose that in some cases where the above -tradition was circulated in the Church, either in Greek or Aramaic, the -word “unclean” was omitted, as it easily might be for brevity. It would -follow that, without the change of a single word, the hearers might -interpret the story as follows: “Jesus _rebuked the wind_, saying to it, -_Be thou muzzled_. His disciples marvelled, saying, What is this? _With -authority he commandeth even the winds_ and they _obey_ him.” - -But you may say perhaps, “Jesus could not use such an extraordinary -phrase as ‘Be thou muzzled,’ in addressing the wind. To a human being it -would be applicable, or even to a spirit, but not to the wind.” Well, it -certainly would be rather unusual: but turn to St. Mark iv. 39, and you -will there find a passage telling you how, in a storm at sea, Jesus -awoke and “_rebuked the wind_” with the words “_Be thou muzzled_ -(Φιμώθητι),” and how the wondering disciples said to one another, “_Who -is this that even the wind_ (Matthew and Luke, ‘the _winds_’) and sea -_obey him_?” It appears to me by no means unlikely that we have here two -versions of the same tradition; the one in the earlier chapter of St. -Mark representing the facts; the other in the later chapter resulting -from a misunderstanding of the facts, whence there sprang up the -amplified and beautiful tradition of the Stilling of the Storm—a story -which must have in all ages commended itself to the Church, and may -still commend itself, by reason of its deep spiritual truth, but which -ought, in this age, to be recognized as in all probability, not -historically true. - -Neither of the above-mentioned explanations of this miraculous narrative -appears to me by any means certain; but either seems to me decidedly -more likely than that Jesus so far raised Himself above the conditions -of humanity as to rebuke and check the winds and the seas. If I -interpret the life of Christ aright, He neither did, nor wished to do, -any such thing, and would have regarded the suggestion to do it as a -temptation from Satan. I say this with reverence, almost with fear and -trembling, knowing that I must give account of these words hereafter -before Him. But what can a man do more to shew his homage for the Truth -than follow where the Truth appears to lead? - -In any case I am sure we cannot rightly understand the life and mind of -Jesus until, by a great effort, we have divested ourselves of our -inveterate and vulgar belief that He wrought His mighty works as mere -demonstrations of His divine mission, and that He had power to perform -any works whatever, quite regardless of the laws of nature. Had that -been the case, I do not see how He could have blamed the Pharisees for -asking Him to work a sign in heaven. Why should they not have asked it, -and why should not He have worked it? Jugglers and impostors were very -common in the East; Galilee and Samaria were thronged with professional -exorcists: in miracles performed on men there was always the possibility -of collusion; any act on earth was open to suspicion of imposture, but -in heaven this was the general belief—there could be certainty; no mere -magician could work a sign in heaven. “Let but the sun stand still for -half a day, and we will believe,” surely this, from the -demonstration-point-of-view of miracles, was a very natural request; and -if Jesus really had the power of stopping the sun for half a day, and if -He felt that His wonder-working faculty was given to Him for the mere -purpose of demonstrating His divine power, I cannot understand how He -could have refused, much less rebuked, the request of the Pharisees. - -But in truth His mighty works or signs were not wrought in this -deliberate way for the mere purpose of demonstration. They were the -results of an irrepressible pity, appealing to an instinct of power. -He could not see a demoniac or a paralytic look trustfully upon Him -without longing to help, and in many cases feeling that it was God’s -will that He should help. To suppose that He cured all who were -brought to Him is absurd, and is contrary (as we have seen above) to -the evidence of the earliest Evangelist. He had the power of -distinguishing between faith and not faith; had He an equal power of -discerning physiological possibilities from impossibilities? Did a -kind of instinct tell Him that the restoration of a lost limb was not -like the cure of a paralytic, not one of the works “prepared for Him -by His Father?” I do not suppose that such physiological distinctions -were intellectually known by Christ in His human nature, any more than -the modern discoveries of geology, astronomy, or history. But -experience and some kind of intuition may have enabled Him to -distinguish those cases which He could heal from those (a far more -numerous class) which He could not. In performing these “mighty works” -of healing, Jesus appears on many occasions to have studiously avoided -that very publicity which—on the theory of their being intended as -demonstrations—ought to have been a condition of their performance. He -takes the patient apart, or expressly warns him to be silent about his -cure—acts quite inconsistent with the demonstration-hypothesis. -Probably He felt that these works, although they came to Him fresh -from His Father’s hands, were not without a danger. Men crowded round -Him, not to hear the truth but to see “the miracles.” Instead of -recognizing that He did only such works as “the Father had prepared -for Him to do,” they thought that He could do “anything He pleased.” I -think we ought to feel that the very notion of such a power as this -was absolutely revolting to Jesus: “To stop the sun, to call down fire -or bread from heaven, to stay the course of rivers, and cast down the -walls of cities—doubtless Joshua and Elijah had done these works; but -they were not the works that the Father had prepared for the Son to -do.” Joshua and Elijah were but servants. He was the Son: and, being -the Son, He felt bound to conform Himself each moment to that heavenly -Will which He ever felt within Him and saw before Him, which dictated -“mighty works” indeed, but always works of love and healing. In one -sense He was entirely free; He could do all things because all things -were possible with the Father, and the Father and He were one; in -another sense He felt Himself less free than any being that had ever -assumed the shape of man, because all other human creatures had -deviated, but He alone could never deviate, no, not by a hair’s -breadth, from the indwelling Will of the Father. - -It is for these reasons then that I reject miracles, not because they -are impossible, not even because they are _a priori_ improbable, not -because they were once useless and are now harmful; but because the -facts are against them. If the evidence shewed that miracles had -actually occurred, I should be prepared to learn from these materialized -parables as reverently as from word-parables, and to believe that God—in -order to break down men’s excessive faith in the machine-like order of -the visible world, and in order to divert their attention from Sequence -to Will—fore-ordained these divergences from the monotonous routine of -things. But the evidence does not shew this. The criticism of the Old -Testament, and the criticism of the New Testament, and the researches of -science, and the closer study of the life of Christ Himself, all -converge to this conclusion—that Christ conquered the world, not by -working miracles, but by living such a life and dying such a death as -might be lived and died by the Son of God, incarnate as a Son of man, -and self-subjected to all the physical limitations of humanity; and by -bequeathing to mankind, after His death, such a Spirit as was -correspondent to His own nature. - -Footnote 24: - - _i.e._ the Powers of Heaven. - -Footnote 25: - - Two different kinds of baskets appear to be denoted by the two - different Greek words. A similar difference is also found in the - narratives of the feeding of the Four Thousand and the Five Thousand: - but it would be easy to shew that no inference of importance can be - drawn from this distinction. - -Footnote 26: - - Pp. 275-6. - - - - - XX - THE MANIFESTATION OF CHRIST - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You wish to draw my attention to the Resurrection of Christ. “That,” you -say, “is either miraculous or nothing. The arguments by which you appear -to be driving miracles into non-existence—expelling them first from -profane history, then from the Old Testament, then step by step from -every part of the New—cannot make a stand at your convenience, so as to -except the Resurrection. Yet even St. Paul makes the Resurrection of -Jesus the basis of his own belief and Gospel. If, therefore, that final -miracle falls to the ground, the Pauline Gospel falls with it: and to -that downfall I fear your arguments all tend, although you yourself do -not see it or wish it.” - -I entirely deny the quiet assumption of your first sentence; which, as -it stands (but I am sure you cannot mean it), affirms that the -Resurrection of Christ “is either miraculous or nothing.” I assert, -without fear of contradiction, that if the phenomena which convinced the -earliest disciples and St. Paul of the reality of the Resurrection of -Christ, were not miraculous but natural, they constitute the most -wonderful event in the history of the world. But what you wish to say, I -suspect, is this: “By the Resurrection of Christ I mean the Resurrection -of the body; now if Christ’s body was raised again, the act must have -been miraculous.” But how if the Resurrection was spiritual? St. Paul -himself speaks of a “spiritual body,” not a material body, as rising in -the Resurrection. Do you suppose that a “spiritual body” can be touched? -Or that St. Paul could have touched the presence that appeared to him -when he heard the words, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” Now if -the Resurrection of Christ was spiritual and not material, there may -have been no suspension at all of the laws of material nature, but -simply a real, spiritual fact, manifested to the world according to -certain laws by which spiritual facts are manifested to the senses. - -But this theory, you will reply, although possibly consistent with the -Pauline narrative, is inconsistent with the Gospel accounts of the -Resurrection. It certainly is. But it is quite certain—however -unprepared you may possibly be for the statement—that the Gospel -accounts of the Resurrection, taken altogether, cannot be compared, for -weight, with the Pauline evidence. You know that the oldest Gospel (St. -Mark xvi. 8) terminates (probably because it was left incomplete) with a -vision of angels who speak of the tomb as empty and of Christ as risen; -but not a word about Christ’s resurrection itself. The next Gospel in -chronological order (St. Matthew’s) mentions one appearance of Christ to -some women, and another to some disciples in Galilee; but as to the last -it is said that “some doubted.” Not till we come to St. Luke’s Gospel do -we find detailed appearances of Jesus to disciples in or near Jerusalem, -in the course of which Jesus is present at a meal and offers to eat, as -evidence that He is no mere spirit. In the last Gospel of all (St. -John’s) there is added an appeal to the sense of touch; and in an -Appendix to that Gospel, Jesus is represented as inviting the disciples -to a repast of fish and bread, apparently miraculously supplied and -prepared (“they see a fire of coals there and fish laid thereon, and -bread,” John xxi. 9), which He distributes to the disciples. Afterwards -he holds a long discourse with them. Similarly long discourses between -the risen Saviour and the disciples are recorded in the first chapter of -the Acts of the Apostles, which we know to have been written after the -Gospel of St. Luke. You see how unsatisfactory all this is. The further -back we go, and the nearer to the event, the more meagre and shadowy -does the evidence become. It does not appear in a form ample and cogent -until a period so late as to throw irresistible doubt upon its truth. -How can we possibly answer the doubter’s natural question, “If there was -this unanswerable evidence of the material resurrection of Jesus, why -was it suppressed for two generations?” Moreover, some of these later -accounts, which relate the handling of the body of Jesus, or the -presence of Jesus at the breaking of bread, might be literal -misinterpretations of some traditions concerning visions of Christ -accompanying the “handling of the body of the Lord Jesus” in the Lord’s -Supper. It is very significant that St. Peter—whose allusions in the -Acts of the Apostles to his personal evidence concerning the -Resurrection of Christ are of the briefest kind—is introduced by St. -Luke as mentioning only one definite kind of manifestation of Jesus; and -that is one in which the Apostles “did _eat and drink with him_ after he -rose from the dead” (Acts x. 41). Lastly, there are traces of -interpolations, or additions, at a very early date in the -post-resurrection chapters of St. Luke, and probably of St. Matthew and -St. John; and in dealing with the post-resurrection narrative of the -life of Christ some of the earliest Fathers quote passages not found in -our Gospels but agreeing somewhat with the suspected additions in the -third and fourth Gospel. The sum of all is, so far as my own experience -goes, that after a patient and prolonged study of the evidence, with -every desire, and indeed I may say with an intense anxiety (at one -period of my life), to justify myself in continuing to believe all that -I once believed, I now rise from the perusal of the last chapters of the -Gospels and the first chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, with the -conviction that _something_ certainly happened to persuade the Apostles -that their Master had verily risen from the dead, but what that -_something_ was, the evidence, so far as it can he obtained from the -Gospels, does not enable us to determine. - -But we have not yet touched on the evidence of St. Paul and to this we -now pass. Here at last we stand on firm ground. Here for the first time -we find (in St. Paul’s first Epistle to the Corinthians xv. 8), the -unquestionable evidence of an eye-witness, probably recorded several -years before the appearance of any Gospel now extant. No one who is -competent to form an opinion on the question can for a moment doubt St. -Paul’s assertion that Christ “appeared” to him, and that some such -appearance as that recorded thrice in the Acts, converted him from a -persecutor into an apostle of Christianity. We have just been asking, -“What was that unknown something—possibly some manifestation of Jesus -after death—which inspired the Twelve with the conviction and the -faculties necessary to overcome the world?” Now we seem to have found -the answer. An appearance that overcame and converted a recalcitrant -enemy might well satisfy and imbue with confidence loving disciples, -longing to believe. Especially might this be the case if Jesus had -predicted, as I believe He did predict, that His work would not be cut -short by death, but that in Him would be fulfilled the saying of Hosea: -“In the third day he shall raise us up and we shall live in his sight.” -Although these words may have been neglected or not understood at the -time when they were uttered, they may have well recurred to the minds of -the Disciples, after their Master’s death, with a powerful effect. To -urge that the despair of the Twelve could be a greater obstacle than the -vehement and bigoted antagonism of Saul, in the way of their receiving a -vision of their beloved Master, is a paradox so pedantical that it is -scarcely worth mentioning. You cannot have forgotten, too, how St. Paul -himself assumes that the appearances of the Saviour to himself, and to -the original Apostles, were of the same kind and on the same footing: -“He _appeared_ unto Cephas, he _appeared_ unto James, he _appeared_ unto -five hundred brethren ... and last of all he _appeared_ unto _me_ also.” -In the two latest Gospels these “appearances” have been magnified into -accounts that represented Jesus as possessed of flesh and bones, as -capable of eating, as reclining at a meal, and as entering into long and -familiar discourses: naturally we ask as to St. Paul’s, the indisputably -earliest account of a manifestation of Christ, what traces it exhibits -of similar distortions and exaggerations? You know the answer. There are -no such traces. The manifestation to St. Paul is plainly admitted by the -accounts in the Acts to be what is commonly called subjective. The -“subjectivity” of some of the earlier manifestations of Jesus to the -disciples is dimly suggested by some passages in the Gospels which -describe how “some doubted” and others failed to recognize Him; but it -is not merely suggested, it is plainly expressed, in the accounts of the -manifestation to St. Paul. The Apostle is clearly stated to have seen a -sight and heard words, which other people, his companions, with the same -opportunities for seeing and hearing, did not see and did not hear. -Putting aside some slight discrepancies in the three accounts given in -the Acts[27]—discrepancies easily and naturally explicable, and valuable -as shewing that the accounts have not been arbitrarily harmonized we may -say that this is the substantial result: the Lord Jesus appeared to St. -Paul in what is called a vision. I myself firmly believe that there was -a spiritual act of Jesus simultaneous with the conveyance of the -manifestation to the brain of the Apostle. But none the less, however -coincident it may have been with a spiritual reality, if there was no -presence of a material body, the manifestation of Jesus to St. Paul must -be placed in the class of visions: and if it was not seen by others who -had the same physical means of seeing, it must be called, in some sense, -“subjective.” - -Yet this vision sufficed for him and for the world. In the strength of -this vision, (followed, no doubt, by subsequent visions and communings -with the Lord Jesus), the Thirteenth Apostle, the intruder, as he might -be called—not “chosen of men,” like Matthias, not called by Christ in -the flesh did the great work of which you and I, with millions of -others, are now joint inheritors. Think of it; Is it not a remarkable -instance of “men working one thing while God worketh another” to see the -Apostles with due form and ceremony electing their substitute for the -Traitor to be the solemnly ordained Twelfth Apostle, henceforth unnamed -in Holy Writ and all the while the Holy Spirit preparing a Thirteenth! -And for this Thirteenth Apostle, who never looked on the face of Christ, -never heard a single word of His doctrine, it has been reserved to tell -us perhaps more about the meaning of Christ’s teaching and certainly to -give us more cogent proof of His Resurrection than all the other -Apostles and Evangelists put together! Truly the last has been first! -And in the strength of his proof of Christ’s Resurrection—mere vision -though we may call it—this Thirteenth Apostle, in the face of -persecutions outside the Church, and discouragements and jealousies -inside the Church, first converted the Roman empire to the Christian -faith; then, fifteen centuries afterwards, reconverted and purified a -large section of the Church from mediæval corruptions; and now, as I -believe, some nineteen centuries afterwards, is on the point of still -further purifying the Church from antique superstition and from modern -materialism! - -What shall we say of the mighty vision that originated these stupendous -results? Shall we take the view of the modern scientific young man, and -lecture the great Apostle on the folly of that indiscreet journey to -Damascus at noon-tide, when his nerves were a little over-wrought after -that unpleasant incident of poor Stephen? Shall we say it was all -ophthalmia and indigestion—that flash of blinding light, those -unforgettable words, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?”—all a mere -vision? Is a fact that changed the destinies of Europe to be put aside -with the epithet “mere”? Would not even a materialist stonemason -recognize that a vision which built St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s is of -some tangible importance? You and I and your scientific young -lecturer—do we not in some sort owe our existence to this “mere vision,” -but for which the earth might be a chaos of barbarism, England a forest -scantly populated with tattooed bipeds, and our civilized selves -non-existent? Patricidal creatures, let us not speak lightly of the -“mere” author of our own important being! - -To my mind the manifestation of the Resurrection of Christ appears, not -as an isolated fact, but as a part, and the central part, of the great -revelation of the immortality of the soul which has been conveyed by God -to man, in accordance with the laws of human nature, from the beginning -of the creation of the world by the medium of imaginative Faith. In the -same way the laws of astronomy have been conveyed by God to man, in -accordance with the laws of human nature, from the beginning of the -creation of the world, by the medium of imaginative Reason. I have shewn -in previous letters that Imagination has been the basis of all that is -worth calling knowledge. To shew the bearing of this on the -manifestations of the Resurrection of Christ shall be the object of my -next letter. - -Footnote 27: - - “And the men that journeyed with him stood speechless hearing the - voice but beholding no man,” Acts ix 7: “And they that were with me - beheld indeed the light but they heard not the voice of him that spake - to me,” _ib._ xxii. 9. Whether Saul’s companions saw and heard nothing - except subjectively, through force of sympathy, or whether (comp. John - xii. 29) some natural phenomenon may have been interpreted in one way - by Saul and in another way by his companions, cannot now be - determined; but I have confined myself to indisputable fact in stating - that Saul “saw a sight and heard words which other people, his - companions, with the same opportunities for seeing and hearing, did - not see and did not hear.” - - - - - XXI - THE RESURRECTION REVEALED - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You are startled, and well you may be, “at the notion that the -resurrection of Christ has been the mere offspring of the imagination.” -I am quoting your words, but you have not quoted mine. I never said, nor -should I dream of saying, that the resurrection of Christ was “the -offspring of the imagination,” any more than I should say that the law -of gravitation is “the offspring of the imagination,” or that light is -“the offspring of the eye.” But this is just an ordinary specimen of the -way in which people whose minds are blocked and choked with prejudice, -misunderstand what is contrary to their preconceptions. You have made up -your mind that the Imagination is a kind of excrescence on humanity, a -faculty independent of the Creator, and incapable of being made by Him -the medium of revelation; and so you pervert my words to suit your -fancies. But what I said was that Imagination is the basis of all that -is worth calling knowledge, and that, as God reveals the laws of -astronomy through imaginative Reason, so He has revealed the -Resurrection of Christ through imaginative Faith. - -Before speaking of the special bearing of the Imagination upon the -manifestation of Christ’s Resurrection, let me say a word or two on the -manner in which our human environment appears to have been adapted to -foster the growth of this faculty. You will be better prepared to expect -great things from the Imagination when you reflect on the great things -that have been wrought by God for its development. You say that you do -not understand the statement in the last paragraph of my last letter, -that the Imagination has been made “the medium of conveying the -revelation of the immortality of the soul,” and still less do you -comprehend how this revelation has been going on “from the creation of -the world,” especially since, during a large portion of this time, there -must have been no men to receive any revelation at all. - -I said deliberately “from the creation of the world,” and not “from the -creation of mankind,” because inanimate creation itself appears to me to -bear witness to a purpose, from the first, that this visible world -should help its future tenants to imagine things invisible. Consider but -one instance, the immense influence of Night upon the Imagination, and -you will perhaps come to the conclusion that, but for the provision of -darkness (“these orbs of light and shade”), men would never have been -led to a faith in the light of immortality. In the first place by -revealing to us the wonder-striking order of the infinite stars—which, -but for darkness, would have remained for ever a closed book to -men—Night leads us to dream, or to infer, that there may be other pages -still unturned in the book of Nature’s mysteries, and stimulates us, -however far we may progress in thought, still to press on to something -more beyond; and at the same time, throwing a temporary veil over all -the sights of day, it persuades us to trust that on the morrow the veil -will be removed, and that in the meantime all things will continue in -their order. - -Night is aided by sleep and dreams. Slumbering in the darkness, and -bereft of the control of the understanding, Imagination has reproduced -before the mind’s eye the sights of daylight, blended together without -thought of fitness, order, time, or place, so as to form quite new -combinations which scarcely any deliberate daytime effort could have so -vividly depicted: and in the long train of confused visionary images -there have sometimes passed before the mental eye of the mourner or the -murderer the very shapes, and even the voices of the dead, forcing the -slumberer to start up and cry, “They live, they still live; there is a -life beyond the grave.” This trans-sepulchral existence having been once -discerned, the Imagination has set to work to formulate the laws of it, -and to map out and people its regions, thus causing heaven and hell to -become realities and (in course of time) ancestral traditions, and -almost inherited instincts. Sometimes, Imagination has come with a -special and rarely manifested force to the aid of a belief in a future -life. Not in dreams, but in wakeful moments, though for the most part by -night, there have appeared before the mind’s eye such vivid images of -the departed, as have convinced not only the seers of the visions but -also their friends—and so, by a pervasive influence, all but a small -minority of the human race—that something real has been seen, the spirit -of the dead made visible: and to this day, in England, there are not -wanting men of the highest ability, culture, and love of truth, who busy -themselves with serious investigations into the reality of apparitions. - -Does this seem to you fanciful? Surely it is the fact that Night and its -phenomena have largely influenced the spiritual, or superstitious, side -of human nature: and if you admit this to be the fact, the only -difference between us is this, that to you this subtle but universal -influence of Darker Nature on Man appears to have been the result of -chance, whereas I think it came from God. To you, one half of Time -appears to have been allowed by God to be spiritually barren, set apart -for the mere repairing of the human material machine: I do not believe -that the spiritual making of Man was foreordained on this “half-time” -principle. - -If however you ask me what amount of truth or reality there has been in -these dreams and visions, I should reply, as about poetry and prophecy, -that some of these imaginations have represented realities, some -unrealities; but that the total result to which they have led men, the -belief in the immortality of the soul, is a reality. But when I speak of -a “real vision” of a spirit or ghost, I hope you will not misunderstand -me so far as to suppose that I could mean a material, gas-like (though -intangible) form, occupying so many cubical inches of space. A spirit, -so far as I conceive it, does not occupy space; nor is it the object of -sight, any more than of smell or touch; it is, to me, of the nature of a -thought, only a thought personified, _i.e._ a thought capable of loving -and being loved, of hating and being hated. But though it may not be the -object of the senses in the same way in which external things are, it -may be manifested to the Imagination, _i.e._ the mind’s eye, in such a -way as to produce the same effect as though it were an external object -seen by the body’s eye. - -Every one who loves truth will tread with cautious steps in this -mysterious province of phantasmal existence, and carefully measure his -language, knowing that we are in a region of illusion, exaggeration, and -(sometimes) of imposture. But there does seem evidence to show that -people (mostly perhaps twins), at a distance from one another, have in -some at present inexplicable manner influenced one another so that the -disease or death or calamity of one has been simultaneously made known -to the other; and you have probably read of cases, fairly supported, -which would show that a passionate longing on the part of a dying man to -see some distant friend may create a responsive emotion, if not an -actual vision, in the mind of that friend. We are so completely in the -dark as to the originating causes (for physiology tells us nothing but -the instrumental causes) which produce our thoughts, that I see nothing -at all absurd in the notion that every truthful and vivid conception of -one human being in the mind of another upon earth, arises from some -communion in the spirit-world between the spirits of the two. - -So much for conjectures as to the possible reality or possible causes of -some classes of apparitions. I do not often myself set much store on -them, except so far as they are of use in reminding us how wide is the -province of possibility, or how narrow the province of certainty, in the -region of ultimate causation. I lay stress, not upon any conjectural -explanation of ghost phenomena, but upon the following general -considerations, most of which are of the nature, not of conjectures, but -of facts: 1st, man is what he is, largely in virtue of the Imagination; -2nd, one half of man’s time and one half of the phenomena of Nature seem -to have no other purpose (so far as man is concerned) than to stimulate -the Imagination; 3rd, if we suppose that this wonderful world is under -the government of a good God, although opposed by an inferior Evil, we -are led to infer that He has implanted in us this faculty of Imagination -and that the noble aspirations and beliefs which have been developed by -it have not been unmixed delusions; 4th, among the noblest of the -beliefs thus developed, has been the belief in the immortality of the -soul, which, after being tested by the faith of many centuries, is at -this day cherished by the majority of civilized mankind; 5th, this -belief has proved its truth, so far as imaginations can prove themselves -true, by working well, _i.e._ it has raised and ennobled those who have -entertained it, and has made them (on the whole) morally the better for -it; 6th, a part of the training of the Imagination, intimately connected -with the production of the belief in the immortality of the soul, has -been the development of a power to see mental visions, with all the -vividness of material visions; 7th, among these visions, some of the -most common have been apparitions of the forms of the dead, and some of -the best authenticated of these have occurred where a strong unfulfilled -desire has possessed the departed in the moment of dying and where the -seer of the apparition has been bound by close ties to the dead. - -These are the considerations, mostly facts—you may dispute some of them, -but not all I think—in the light of which I should endeavour to -illustrate the manifestation of Christ to His disciples after death. To -these facts I merely added the conjecture that possibly there may be -something besides the mere movement of our brains that produces these -images of the departed, something—I will not say external, for a spirit, -if independent of place, can be neither external to us nor internal—but -some act in the invisible world of spirits corresponding to every -apparition upon the visible world. But I did not pledge myself to such a -theory. I only insisted that the whole revelation of poetry and religion -through the Imagination has been of such inestimable importance to man -that we cannot put it all aside as false because imaginative; we must -regard it with reverence and be prepared to find that in the central -event of the purest religion of all, the Imagination has been made the -medium of the culminating revelation of spirit and truth. Indeed, if the -spiritual world is real and near, it is difficult to conceive how -God—without breaking the Laws of Nature and without unfitting us for -life in a world of sense—could better give us glimpses of an invisible -environment, than by causing it to press in, as it were, upon the -Imagination, so that the mind’s eye, thus stimulated by real -invisibilities, may, for the time, supplant the bodily faculty of sight, -and afterwards leave behind in us a permanent suggestion that, as there -is a material world corresponding to the bodily eye, so there is a -mind’s world corresponding to the mind’s eye. With this pre-conception I -will ask you to approach the narrative of Christ’s Resurrection as I -shall endeavour to set it forth in my next letter from the natural point -of view. - - - - - XXII - THE RESURRECTION - - -MY DEAR ——, - -My last letter broke off rather abruptly with a promise to do my best to -set forth hereafter the Resurrection of Christ as it may be regarded -from a natural point of view. - -Looking at the facts in this light, we have in the first place to set -before ourselves the short life of One of whom we must merely say that -He was unique in the goodness and grandeur of His character, and that He -died with the unfulfilled purpose of redeeming mankind from sin, -deserted for the moment by the few disciples who had adhered to Him -almost to the last. He died, for the time, the most pitiable, the most -despair-inspiring death that the world has ever witnessed, asking in His -last moments why He had been “forsaken” by God. But His death—pardon me -if I deviate for one moment from material to celestial facts, provided -that I never deviate into miracles—was really the triumph over death, -and His Spirit had in reality (we speak in a metaphor) broken open the -bars of the grave and ascended to the throne of the Father carrying with -Himself the promise of the ultimate redemption of mankind. This was now -to be revealed to the world as the culminating vision in that continuous -Revelation through the Imagination by which the minds of men had been -led to look beyond this life to a life that knows no end. Speaking -terrestrially, we must say that the influence of Jesus, love, faith, -remorse, were moulding the hearts of the disciples on earth to receive -the truth; speaking celestially we may say that Jesus bent down from His -throne by the right hand of God to prepare them for the manifestation of -His victory. What in this crisis exactly befell on earth we shall never -know. The tradition that Jesus appeared on the third day, or after three -days, to His disciples, is so naturally derived from the prophecy of -Hosea “on the third day he shall raise us up”—a prophecy probably -applied by Jesus to Himself—that we can place no reliance on its -numerical accuracy. Nor do we know exactly where Jesus first appeared to -His disciples. The oldest tradition[28] declared that they were to “go -to Galilee” after their Master’s death, and that He had promised to -guide them thither; but a subsequent account interpreted the words about -“Galilee” quite differently.[29] In any case, before many days had -elapsed, to some one disciple, perhaps to Mary Magdalene—out of whom -there had been cast “seven devils”—it was given to see the Lord Jesus. - -Here, by the way, we must note the remarkable prominence given in all -the Gospels to the part played by women in receiving the first -manifestations of Christ’s Resurrection. Writers who were careful to -avoid giving occasion for unbelief might naturally have desired to give -less prominence to the testimony of highly imaginative and -impressionable witnesses; and indeed St. Paul, in his brief list of the -appearances of Jesus (possibly because writing as an Apostle who had -seen Christ, he desired to confine himself almost entirely to -manifestations witnessed by Apostles), makes no mention of the -appearances to women: their prominence, therefore, in all the Gospels, -testifies strongly to the early and universal acceptance of the -tradition that women were the first witnesses to the risen Saviour. But -to resume. The news quickened the faith even of those disciples who had -not seen and who could not yet believe; and presently apparitions were -seen—a thing almost, though (I believe) not quite, unique in visions—by -several disciples together. Probably the most frequent occasions for -these manifestations were when they had met together to partake of the -body and blood of their Master; and it was in the moment of the breaking -of the bread that the image of the Living Bread was flashed before them, -appearing in the form of Jesus giving Himself for them, and uttering -words of blessing, comfort, or exhortation, audible to the ears of the -faithful, who at the same moment were handling His body and touching the -blood which flowed from His side. At other times he appeared before them -with other messages; to the women he seemed to wave them off as if -deprecating a too close approach, or as if bidding them go hence and -carry the glad tidings to the Apostles; others He seemed to rebuke for -their want of faith; in the sight of others, His hands, outstretched in -the attitude of parting benediction, seemed to send forth His disciples -to preach His word with promise of His presence; but how these messages -were conveyed, whether by gesture simply, or by spiritual voice (as in -the case of St. Paul), audible perhaps to one, and by him interpreted to -the rest, or audible to all that were in the same faithful -sympathy—these and other details cannot now be determined. - -“Why did not the adversaries of Christ confront His followers by -producing the body from the tomb, thus disproving the story that His -body had risen from the dead?” The tomb was probably empty. That is -probable for two reasons, first because the earliest traditions agree -that the women going to the tomb found the stone rolled away; and -secondly, because the adversaries of Jesus appear to have themselves -subsequently circulated a story that the disciples had stolen away the -body. This they would hardly have done if they had known that their own -explanation could be at any moment refuted by opening the tomb, which -would have shown the body still lying there. Possibly some of the -enemies of Jesus had themselves removed the body, influenced by some of -those predictions of Jesus about Himself, which, though they had not the -power to inspire the disciples with faith in the moment of His death, -had power to inspire His enemies with a vague fear. Being almost -surprised in the act, they may not have had time to replace the great -stone at the entrance of the tomb, when the women arrived; if so, the -action of Christ’s own enemies prepared the way for the belief in His -resurrection by exhibiting to the sorrowing disciples the stone rolled -away and the empty sepulchre. First came the cry, “He is not here,” and -that prepared the way for “He is risen.” - -How long the visionary period lasted we cannot tell. It is almost -certain that there were many more visions than the five recorded by St. -Paul (1 Cor. xv. 6, 7). At least one of St. Paul’s five visions, that to -St. James, is not mentioned in any of our extant Gospels; on the other -hand St. Paul omits some of those peculiar to the third or fourth -Gospels, as well as the manifestations to the women. Perhaps the visions -were so many, and all so like each other, that the Church found it -difficult to select which to record; and each Evangelist chose those -which appeared to him fittest, either because they were the earliest, or -because the witnesses were numerous, or because they were apostolic, or -because they contained the most striking proof of a veritable -resurrection. We may therefore easily accept the statement that the -period of visions lasted for forty days or even for a much longer time, -probably till the disciples felt emboldened to take an active course in -preaching the Gospel. - -Concerning Christ’s manifestation to St. Paul I have said enough in my -last letter—if anything needed to be said—to shew that it must have been -of the nature of a vision, and (in a sense) “subjective.” But it differs -from the rest in that it was made to an enemy while the other -manifestations were made to devoted disciples. Love, remorse, faith, -affection, stimulated the Apostles to cry, “He cannot have died,” and -prepared their souls to see the image of Jesus risen; but where, it may -be asked, was the spiritual preparation in the heart of St. Paul to -receive such a vision? You may trace it in the words which St. Paul -heard from Jesus: “It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.” They -shew that the future Apostle had been struggling, and struggling hard, -against the compunctions of conscience. Being a lover of truth from his -childhood, he was prepared to give up all for its sake; but recent -events had made him ask whether he was not fighting against the truth -instead of for the truth. He had been persecuting the Christians; but -their faith and patience had made him doubt whether they might not be -right and he wrong. When the first martyr Stephen looked up to heaven -and there saw Jesus seated at the right hand of God, then or soon -afterwards, the question must have arisen in the mind of the persecutor, -“What if the follower of the Nazarene was speaking truth? What if the -crucified Jesus whom I am now persecuting was really exalted to God’s -throne?” Such was the struggle through which Saul’s mind was passing -when the Spirit of Jesus, acting indirectly through the constancy and -faith of His persecuted disciples, having first insensibly permeated and -undermined the barriers of Pharisaic training and education, now swept -all obstacles before it in an instantaneous deluge of conviction that -this persecuted Jesus was the Messiah. At that same moment the Messiah -Himself (who during these last months and weeks of spiritual conflict -had been bending down closer and closer to the predestined Apostle from -His throne in heaven) now burst upon the convert’s sight on earth. - -But I think I hear you saying, “All this sounds well; but he has -repeatedly described these visions of the risen Saviour as subjective: -how then can he call them real? What is real?” Let me refer you to the -paper of Definitions which I enclosed in a previous letter.[30] - -1. _Absolute reality cannot be comprehended by men, and can only be -apprehended as God, or in God, by Faith._ - -2. _Among objects of sensation, those are (relatively) real which -present similar sensations in similar circumstances._ - -Now if you try to regard the manifestation of the risen Christ under the -second head, as an “object of sensation,” you must pronounce it -“unreal,” inasmuch as it would not “present similar sensations in -similar circumstances;” by which I mean that, with similar opportunities -of observation, different persons (believers, for example, and -unbelievers) would not have derived similar sensations from it. But your -conclusion would be false because you started from a false premise: -these manifestations cannot be classed “among objects of sensation.” - -The movements of the risen Saviour appear to me to have been the -movements of God; His manifestations to the faith of the Apostles were -divine acts, passing direct from God to the souls of men. Since -therefore these manifestations belonged to the class of things which -“can only be apprehended as God, or in God, by faith,” I call them -“absolute realities”—as much more real than flesh and blood, as God -Himself is more real than the paper on which I am now writing. - -Footnote 28: - - Mark xvi. 7; Matthew xxviii. 7: “He goeth before you _into Galilee_.” - -Footnote 29: - - Luke xxiv. 6: “Remember how he spake unto you _while he was yet in - Galilee_.” - -Footnote 30: - - See _Definitions_ at the end of the book. - - - - - XXIII - THE SPIRITUAL RESURRECTION - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I am not surprised to hear that you consider the theory above described -of Christ’s resurrection, “vague, shadowy, and unsatisfying.” But as in -the very same letter you say that you are quite convinced of the -unhistorical nature of the account of the resurrection of Christ’s -material body, I think you ought not to dismiss the subject without -giving more attention than you have given as yet to it. As a student of -history and as a young man bent on attaining such knowledge as can be -attained concerning the certainties or probabilities that have the most -important bearing on the life and conduct of myriads of your -fellow-creatures, you ought at least to ask yourself what better -explanation you have to offer of the marvellous phenomena of the -Christian Church and in particular of St. Paul’s part in spreading -Christianity. - -I sympathize with the “sense of bathos,” as you call it, which comes -over you when you hear that the phenomena of the Resurrection of Christ -are to be explained by a study of the growth and development of the -revelation given to mankind through the Imagination. I sympathize with -you; but I sympathize with you as I should with a child who might be -standing by Elijah’s side at the time when the prophet saw his -never-to-be-forgotten vision. That child would feel, no doubt, “a sense -of bathos” because the Lord was not in the fire, nor in the whirlwind, -nor in the earthquake, but in the still small voice. You are in the -childish stage of susceptibility to anything that is noisy and big; you -have not been taught by experience and thought to appreciate the -divineness of things obvious, ordinary, and quiet; above all you have -not yet learned to revere your own nature nor to acknowledge (except -with your lips) that you are made in the image of God. Retaining still a -keen recollection of the pain with which I passed through that stage -myself, I have neither the inclination, nor the right, to despise your -present condition of mind; but I believe, if you will still keep the -question open in your mind, and if you will meditate a little now and -then on the frequency, or I may say the universality, of illusion in the -conveyance of all the highest truth, you will gradually come, as I came, -to perceive that the essence of the resurrection of Christ is that His -Spirit should have really triumphed over death, and not that His body -should have risen from the grave. - -No doubt you would be much more impressed if the tangible body of some -dead friend of yours, after being buried in the earth, had appeared to -certain witnesses and touched them, and eaten in their company, than if -a vivid apparition of the friend had appeared to the same witnesses; but -I think you would much more easily believe the latter than the former; -and you might be more impressed by a strong conviction of the latter -than by a doubtful, timid, clinging to the former. I can hardly think -that if you had received several accounts from independent witnesses, of -apparitions of this kind resulting in a marvellous change of character -in all who had seen them, you would at once put them aside simply -because they might be called in some sense natural. The very fact of -their being natural would lead you to consider how strange must have -been the causes that had produced such strange results; how powerful -must have been the personality that had thus forced itself on the mental -retina of the seers of the apparition; and if something important had -followed from such a vision, say, for example, the writing of a great -poem, or the foundation of a noble empire, I cannot think that you would -set down the vision as a negligible trifle. - -But you feel, I dare say, that, though you might be impressed by the -stories of such an apparition, you could not feel certain that the -apparition represented any reality; there would be no definite proof -that the witnesses of the apparition were not under the influence of a -delusion. Well, I will admit that there would be no proof of the -ordinary kind, that is to say, no proof such as is conveyed through the -senses about ordinary terrestrial phenomena; but I think you might feel -certain; only it would be that kind of certainty which is largely bred -from Faith and Hope. And this sort of certainty, and no other, appears -to me that which was intended to be produced by the Resurrection of -Christ. His manifestations were unseen and unheard save by the eye and -ear of Faith. If the proof of His resurrection had not depended upon -Faith, then the Roman soldiers would have seen His material body -miraculously issuing from the shattered sepulchre, and the companions of -Saul would have both seen Christ and understood the voice that cried, -“Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” If we could ascertain exactly the -historical basis for the account in the Fourth Gospel of Christ’s -manifestation to the doubting Thomas we should probably find—supposing -that we were really justified in treating the account as historical—that -there was in Thomas a strong desire to believe, combined with a strong -sense of the impossibility of attaining adequate proof. As in the life -of Christ, so in the resurrection of Christ, conviction appears never to -have been forced on any entirely unwilling unbeliever. - -In order to believe in the resurrection of Christ, it is not enough to -be convinced that the evidence is honest and genuine, and that the -witnesses could not be deceived; that kind of belief savours of the -law-court, and there is nothing spiritual in it; but the man who truly -and spiritually accepts Christ’s resurrection is he who says to himself -as he reviews the life of Christ and the history of the Church: “Being -what He was, and having done the work that He has done, this Jesus of -Nazareth ought not to have succumbed to death. If there is any evidence -to shew that the veil of the invisible has been so far thrown back, be -it for a moment, as to shew me Jesus in the spiritual world still living -and triumphant over death, my conscience opens its arms at once to -embrace that belief.” And there is this advantage in basing your faith -on the spiritual resurrection of Jesus, that you keep the region of -faith distinct from the region of disputable testimony. If you rest your -hopes on the material resurrection, that is a question of doubtful -evidence. Your heart says, “Oh that it might be true!” Your brain says, -“I cannot honestly say that I think it is true.” Hence a constant -conflict between heart and brain, while you are forced again and again -to ask yourself, “Must I be dishonest in order that I may persuade -myself that I am happy? And even if I can honestly believe in the -material resurrection to-day, how do I know that some new evidence—the -discovery of some new Gospel for example—may not overturn my belief -to-morrow?” - -But the life and doctrine of Christ, the conversion and letters of St. -Paul, the growth and victories of the Church, and the present power of -Christ’s Spirit are facts that can never be overthrown; and if you say, -“On the basis of these indisputable facts, considered as a part of the -evolution and training of mankind I rest my hope and my faith that Jesus -has conquered death and still lives and works among us and for us”—why -then you rest on a basis that cannot be shaken. And surely such a faith -is more strong, more spiritual, more comforting, yes, and more certain -too, than a “knowledge” which you know in your own heart to be no -knowledge! How long will mankind be content to be ignorant that the HALF -which constitutes truth is worth more than the WHOLE which is made up of -truth and truth’s integumentary illusion! How many there are to whom the -saying of old Hesiod is still unmeaning: - - _Alas thou know’st not, silly soul, - How much the half exceeds the whole!_ - -You cannot obtain, and must not expect to obtain, any demonstrative -proof of the Resurrection of Christ, any more than you can obtain a -demonstrative proof of the existence of a God: yet you can feel as -strong and as sincere a conviction of the former fact as of the latter. - -It is curious that St. Paul’s parallel between the Resurrection of -Christ and that of men should be so habitually overlooked. He assumes, -as a matter of course, a similarity, almost an identity, between the -Resurrection of men and the Resurrection of Christ: “If there is no -resurrection of the dead neither hath Christ been raised,” and again: -“Now hath Christ been raised from the dead, the first fruits of them -that are asleep.” This reasoning holds excellently, if the Resurrection -is to be the same for us as it was for our Saviour, a spiritual -Resurrection, and if the Resurrection of Christ visibly revealed the -universal law which shall apply to all who are animated by the Spirit of -God. But if Christ’s Resurrection was of a quite different kind, if it -was a bodily stepping out of the tomb three days after burial, how can -this be called the “first fruits” of the Resurrection of men whose -bodies will all decay and for whom therefore no such stepping out from -the tomb can ever be anticipated? The best, the truest, the most -comforting belief in the end will be found to be that Jesus was “put to -death in the flesh but _quickened_ (not in the flesh but) _in the -spirit_.” And as it was with Him, so we believe it will be with us. - -But perhaps you will remind me that one of the Creeds mentions “the -Resurrection of the _body_,” and that St. Paul anticipates the -Resurrection, not of a “spirit,” but of “a spiritual _body_;” and you -may ask me what I infer from this. I for my part infer that St. Paul -desired to guard against the notion that the dead lose their identity -and are merged in God or in some other essence; he wished to convey to -his hearers that they would still retain their individuality, the power -of loving and of being loved; possibly also he wished to suggest a life -of continued activity in the service of God; and in order to express -this he used such language (metaphorical of course) as would -unmistakeably imply that identity would be preserved, and activity would -be possible. But he took care to guard his language against -materialistic misinterpretation by insisting that the body would be -“spiritual” and therefore invisible to the earthly eye and cognizable -only by the spirit. The new body, he says, is “a building from God,” “a -house not made with hands, _eternal_;” and he prefaces this by saying -“the things which are seen are temporal, but the things _which are not -seen_ are _eternal_.” Hereby he clearly implies that the new body will -be “not seen.” Elsewhere he tells us that “the things prepared by God” -for them that love Him (and of course he includes in these the “building -from God, the house not made with hands”) are such as eye “_hath not -seen_ nor ear heard, nor have they entered into the heart of man; but -God hath revealed them unto us _by the Spirit_;” and again, “the things -of God none knoweth _save the Spirit of God_,” which has been imparted -to the faithful. - -To speak honestly, I must add that, even if I found St. Paul had -committed himself repeatedly to any theory of a material or -semi-material Resurrection, consonant with the feelings of his times, I -should not have felt bound to place a belief in a materialistic detail -of this kind upon the same high and authoritative level as the belief in -the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, or any other general and -spiritual article of faith. But I find no such materialism in St. Paul. -He appears to me to say consistently, 1st, that Christ’s Resurrection -was a type of (“the first fruits of”) the Resurrection of mankind; 2nd, -that in contrast to the first man Adam, the earthy, who became a living -soul, the last Adam, the heavenly, became a “life-giving spirit;” 3rd, -that, as we have borne the image of the earthy, so we shall also bear -the image of the heavenly; 4th, that the “body” of the faithful after -death will be “spiritual,” just as the Church of God is “a _spiritual_ -house,” and the sacrifices of the saints are “_spiritual_ sacrifices.” -There is no more ground for thinking that St. Paul supposed that we -should hereafter have spiritual hands, or be spiritual bipeds, than for -thinking that he supposed the sacrifices of the Church to be spiritual -sheep, or the temple of the Church to be composed of celestial stones. -After our Resurrection, we are still to be conscious of God’s past love, -still to rejoice in His present and never-ending love, still to be -capable of glorifying and serving God, of loving as well as of being -loved—this St. Paul’s theory of the “spiritual body” certainly implies; -and it need not imply more. And what our Resurrection will be, that -Christ’s Resurrection was. - -The ordinary fancies about the Resurrection teem with absurdities, and -are redeemed from being ridiculous, only because they all spring from -the natural and reasonable desire that we may hereafter preserve our -identity. But they ought to be suppressed if they create, as I fear they -create, additional difficulties in the way of conceiving, and believing -in, a future life. I do not wish to scoff at the popular views; but it -is important that those who adopt the materialistic theory of the -Resurrection should realize the unnecessary and grotesque -inconsistencies with which they obscure the Christian faith. Popular -Christianity appears generally to accept a sensuous paradise, only -excluding what some may deem the coarser senses, the smell, touch, and -taste. But what is the special merit of the other two senses, hearing -and seeing, that they alone should be allowed places in Paradise? And -this visible, semi-spiritual body upon which the vulgar fancy so -insists—what purpose will it serve? “The purposes of recognition between -friends.” Then it will be like the old material body of the departed—at -what period of his existence? Shall he be represented as a youth of -twenty or a man of forty, or of fifty, or as a child of ten? And how as -to the body of one who was deformed, maimed, or hideously misshapen and -ugly? “It would be a purified likeness, summarizing, as it were, every -period of life, so that it would be recognizable, not indeed by our eyes -but by those of spiritual beings.” That is conceivable: but why all this -trouble to obtain a visible body that shall make recognition difficult, -when recognition can be conceived so much more easily as the result of -mere spiritual communion? Keep by all means the language of the -_Apocalypse_ and of the _Pilgrim’s Progress_ in order to describe in -poetry the condition of the blessed dead; but remember that it is the -language of poetry; and let every such use of words be concluded (as -with a doxology) by the thought, “Thus will it be, only far better, -infinitely better; for God is love; and our future communion with the -love of God will be a height of happiness such as no power of sense can -reveal, and only the spirit-guided soul can faintly apprehend.” - -But perhaps you will say “You are ready enough to attack other people’s -notions about the semi-material resurrection; but you are not equally -ready to explain your own notions about a spiritual resurrection. You -cannot even tell us what a spiritual body is, except that it has the -power of loving and being loved.” Precisely so; I am quite ignorant. Yet -in my knowledge of this matter I am superior to a very great number of -other theologians. For they think they know, whereas I know that neither -I nor they know. Let me go a little further in my confession of -ignorance and admit that I do not really possess knowledge about a -number of other matters about which many profess with great glibness to -know everything. I am certain that I exist; but I doubt whether I can -analyse and explain the reasons for my certainty, and I am quite sure I -cannot prove my existence by logic. If I am pressed for a proof, I -should say (as I have stated in a previous letter) that my belief in my -existence was largely due to the Imagination. _Cogito, ergo sum_, “I -think, therefore I am,”—if intended as a serious proof, and if there is -any real meaning in the “_ergo_”—appears to me to be the most babyish of -arguments. I respect the gigantic intellect of the arguer, but not even -a giant can make ropes of sand; and it needs but a little grammar to -dissolve this reasoning to nothing. “I think” means “I am one thinking.” -In some languages, in Hebrew for example, you might have no other way of -expressing the proposition than in this form: “I am one thinking.” What -sort of reasoning then is this! “I _am_ one thinking, therefore I _am_.” -“This _is_ white paper, therefore it _is_!” Surely a ridiculous -offspring to issue from great logical travail! And besides, what -infinite assumptions are presupposed in that monosyllable “I”! How do I -know that “_I_ think,” and that it is not the great world-spirit who -thinks in me, as well as rains outside me? Why ought I not to say “_it_ -thinks,” just as I say “_it_ rains”? What do you mean by “I”? Tell us -what “I” is. And how can the desperate logician set about telling us -what “I” is, without assuming that his own “I” is, which is equivalent -to assuming “I _am_”? Surely this is altogether a hopeless muddle, and -we ought to give up reasoning about “I” and “am;” yes, and I would add -not only about “I” and “am,” but also about a number of other -fundamental conceptions, which are far more profitably assumed as -axioms. For my part, whenever I use the words “mind,” “matter,” -“substance,” “spirit,” “soul,” “intellect,” and the like, and make any -serious statement about them, I hardly ever do so without a mental -reservation, saying to myself—“but of course there may be no such things -precisely as these, but some other things quite different, producing the -results which we ascribe to these; so that all these statements may be -only proportionately true.” - -I do not object to the use of the materialistic language where it is -recognized as metaphor by those who use and those who hear it; but the -mischief is that it is often not so recognized. Once make yourself the -slave of the popular language about “spirit,” and “substance,” and what -not—and you are in danger of being manacled intellectually as well as -theologically. The popular belief is that a man’s spirit is inside him, -like his qualities; the latter like peas in a box, the former like gas -in a bladder. Drive a hole through a man’s left side or the middle of -his head, and—out goes the spirit; that is the common materialistic -creed. Now I have a strong desire to declare that this creed is -ridiculously false. But I will be consistent and simply say that I know -nothing whatever about it. My spirit may possibly be inside me; but it -may possibly be outside me; say at a point six feet, or six miles, above -me; or away in Jupiter, or Saturn, or down at the earth’s centre; or it -may be incapable of occupying space. What does it matter to you or to -me, theologically or intellectually, whether that part of us which we -call our “spirit” has its local habitation inside us, or outside, or in -no locality at all? Is it not enough to recognize that we have powers of -acting, loving, trusting, and believing, and to feel certain that God -intends these powers to be developed and never to perish? Yet I remember -that a friend of mine was shocked, and almost appalled, when I avowed -ignorance as to the locality of my spirit. He seemed to think I might as -well have no spirit at all, if it could not prove its respectability by -giving its name and address! - -For my part I am now quite certain of Christ’s spiritual Resurrection, -and in that conviction I am far happier and far more trustful than when -I at first mechanically accepted upon authority and evidence the belief -in the Resurrection of Christ’s body, and subsequently strove to retain -that belief, against the testimony of my intelligence and my conscience. -I think you also will find, as years go on, when it becomes your lot to -stand by the grave into which friend after friend is lowered, that a -heartfelt conviction of the spiritual Resurrection of Christ affords -more comfort to you at such moments than your old belief—based largely -upon historical evidence, and brain-felt rather than heart-felt—in His -physical Resurrection. For the former unites us with Christ, the latter -separates us from Christ. We none of us expect that the material and -tangible bodies of our friends will rise from the dead in the flesh -without “seeing corruption;” but we do trust that they shall rise as -“spiritual bodies” over whom death shall have no power. This trust is -confirmed by the belief that Christ rose as we trust they shall -hereafter rise. If, therefore, Christ rose a material body from the -grave—that stirs no hope in us. But if, while His body remained in the -grave, His spirit rose triumphant to the throne of God, then we see a -hope indeed that may suit our case and give us some gleam of -consolation. The bodies of the dead may lie there and decay; but what of -that? Even so was it with the Saviour: but the spiritual body is -independent of the flesh and shall rise superior to death. - -Do not imagine that the spiritual body is one whit less real than the -material body; only, as the material body belongs to the time-world, so -the spiritual body belongs to the eternal world. Each is suited to its -own environment, but each of them is a real body. As to the relation -between the material and the spiritual body we know nothing, and we need -know nothing. - -When will men learn to be less greedy of shams and bubbles of pretended -material knowledge, and more earnest and patient in their sober -aspirations after spiritual truth? When will they realize that an -unhesitating faith in a few elementary principles is better than a -tremulous quasi-knowledge of a whole globe of dogmas? - - - - - XXIV - WHAT IS A SPIRIT? - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You take me to task for the abrupt termination of my last letter. I -broke off, you say, just when you thought I was on the point of -explaining what I meant by a spirit: “Surely you have some theory of -your own and are not content with disbelieving other people’s theories.” -Well, I thought I had said before that I am content to know merely this -about a spirit, that it possesses capabilities for loving and serving -God, or other nobler capabilities corresponding to these. But if you -press me to set up some theory of my own that you may have the pleasure -of pulling it to pieces, I will confess to you that my nearest -conception of a spirit is a personified virtue. This cannot very well be -quite right; any more than a carpenter can be like a door, or like -anything else that he has constructed. But it is the nearest I can come -to any conception that is not too repulsively material. And sometimes, -when I try to conceive of the causes of terrestrial thoughts, and -emotions, and spiritual movements, I find myself recurring to the -antique notion, hinted at in one or two passages of the Bible, and I -believe encouraged by some of the old Rabbis, that there are two worlds; -one visible, terrestrial, and material, the other invisible, celestial, -and spiritual; and that whatsoever takes place down here takes place -first (or simultaneously but causatively) up there; here, the mere -outsides of things; there, the causes and springs of action; the bodies -down on earth, the spirits up in heaven. - -This is but a harmless fancy. Let me give you another. You know—or might -know if you would read a little book recently published called -_Flatland_, and still better, if you would study a very able and -original work by Mr. C. H. Hinton[31]—that a being of Four Dimensions, -if such there were, could come into our closed rooms without opening -door or window, nay, could even penetrate into, and inhabit, our bodies; -that he could simultaneously see the insides of all things and the -interior of the whole earth thrown open to his vision: he would also -have the power of making himself visible and invisible at pleasure; and -could address words to us from an invisible position outside us, or -inside our own person. Why then might not spirits be beings of the -Fourth Dimension? Well, I will tell you why. Although we cannot hope -ever to comprehend what a spirit is—just as we can never comprehend what -God is—yet St. Paul teaches us that the deep things of the spirit are in -some degree made known to us by our own spirits. Now when does the -spirit seem most active in us? or when do we seem nearest to the -apprehension of “the deep things of God”? Is it not when we are -exercising those virtues which, as St. Paul says, “abide”—I mean faith, -hope and love? Now there is obviously no connection between these -virtues and the Fourth Dimension. Even if we could conceive of space of -Four Dimensions—which we cannot do, although we can perhaps describe -what some of its phenomena would be if it existed—we should not be a -whit the better morally or spiritually. It seems to me rather a moral -than an intellectual process, to approximate to the conception of a -spirit: and toward this no knowledge of Quadridimensional space can -guide us. - -What, for example, do we mean when we speak of the Holy Spirit, and -describe Him as the Third Person in the Trinity? I hope you will not -suppose—because I happen to be a rationalist as regards the historical -interpretation of certain parts of the Bible, or because I have not -disguised my dislike of the formal and quasi-arithmetical propositions -in which the Athanasian creed sets forth the doctrine of the -Trinity—that I reject the teaching of the New Testament on the nature -and functions of the Holy Spirit. Literary criticism may oblige us to -regard the long discourses on the functions of the Paraclete or Advocate -in the Fourth Gospel as being in the style of the author and not the -language of Christ; but it is difficult to suppose that the sublime -thoughts in those passages are the mere inventions of a disciple of -Jesus; and the characteristic sayings of Christ in the Synoptic Gospels -bear cogent though terse witness to His acknowledgment of a Holy Spirit -who should “speak” in His disciples, and “teach” His disciples what to -say, when they were summoned before the bar of princes: “it is not ye -that speak, but the Holy Spirit,” Mark xiii. 11; “it is not ye that -speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you,” Matth. x. -20; “the Holy Spirit shall teach you in that very hour what ye ought to -say,” Luke xii. 12. I need not remind you how large a space “the Spirit” -claims in St. Paul’s Epistles, and especially of the use which the -Apostle makes of the triple combination of the Father, the Son, and the -Holy Spirit. Even, therefore, if I could give no explanation of the -whole of it, nor so much as put into words the faint glimpse I may have -gained into the meaning of a part of this doctrine, I should be inclined -to accept the existence of the Holy Spirit on the authority of Christ or -St. Paul, as being a doctrine that does not enter into the domain of -evidence, a conception of the divine nature from which I might hope to -learn much, if I would reverently keep it before me and try to apprehend -it. But I seem to have a glimpse of it. That influence or “idea” of the -dead which, as Shakespeare says, “creeps into our study of imagination,” -and which reproduces all the best and essential characteristics of the -departed—when this has once taken possession of us, do we not naturally -say that we now realize “the spirit” of the dead, feeling that it guides -us for the first time to the appreciation of his words and deeds? Now as -God, the initial Thought, needed to be revealed to us by means of the -Word of God, so the Word needed to be revealed to us by means of the -Influence of the Word. Or, to put it more personally, as the Father -needed to be revealed by the Son, so the Son needed to be revealed by -the Spirit. Those who knew Christ merely in the flesh knew but little of -Him, and had little understanding of His words. It was the Spirit of -Christ that guided, and still guides, His disciples into the fuller -knowledge of the meaning of His past life on earth and His present -purposes in heaven. - -I own, however, that I have sometimes felt at a loss when I have asked -myself, “How is this Spirit a Person? And do I love Him or It? And if -Jesus and the Spirit of Jesus are two Persons, then must I also infer -two personalities for myself, one for my mortal terrestrial humanity, -another for my immortal celestial spirit?” These questions are extremely -difficult for me to answer with confidence: yet I feel instinctively -that they have a profound and satisfying answer to which I have not yet -attained; but I suggest some answer of this kind, “When we endeavour to -form a conception of God we ought to put aside the limitations of human -individuality. Now we cannot do this while we conceive of God simply as -the Father, and still less while we conceive of Him simply as the Son; -but we can do it when we conceive of Him as being an all-pervasive -Power, the source of order and harmony and light, sometimes as a Breath -breathing life into all things good and beautiful, sometimes as a Bond, -or Law, linking or attracting together all things material and spiritual -so as to make up the Kosmos or Order of the Universe. The traditions of -the Church have taught us that there has been such a Power, subsisting -from the first with the Father and the Eternal Son, in whom the Father -and the Son were, and are, united; and by whom the whole human race is -bound together in brotherhood to one another and in sonship to the -Eternal Father. What is this Being but the Personification of that Power -which, in the material world, we call Attraction and in the immaterial, -Love? Is it not conceivable that this Being which breathes good thoughts -into every human breast should love those whom It inspires? And we—can -we love our country, and love Goodness, Purity, Honour, Faith, Hope, and -yet must we find it impossible to love this personified Love, this Holy -Spirit? But if we love the Spirit of God, and the Spirit loves us, then -we can understand how it may be called a Person.” - -I foresee the answer that might be given to these—I will not call them -reasonings, say meditations. “All this is the mere play of fancy: you -personify England, Virtue, Goodness, Hope, Faith, and the like; and such -personifications are tolerable in poetry; but you do not surely maintain -that such personifications have any real existence: in the same way, you -may find a certain conception of the Supreme Being useful for the -encouragement of devotion, but you have no right hence to infer that -this conception represents an objective reality, much less God Himself.” -My reply is that in the region of theological contemplation where -demonstration, and proof of the ordinary kind, are both impossible, I -conceive I “have a right” to do this on the authority of Christ and St. -Paul and the Fourth Gospel, and the general tradition of the Church. I -would sooner believe that myself and my spirit have a dual personality; -I would sooner recognize the presence of the Angels of England and -France and the other great nations of the world about the heavenly -throne, like the Angels of the seven churches of Asia or the Angel of -the Chosen People; I would sooner acknowledge the actual personality of -Hope, Faith, and I know not what other celestial ministers between God -and man; I would sooner, in a word, believe that personality depends -upon some subtle combination such as only poets have dimly guessed at, -than I would give up the belief that there is beside the Eternal Father, -and the Eternal Son, an Eternal Spirit, to the description of whom we -can best approximate by calling Him personified Love. - -Looking at the Spirit of God in this way I sometimes seem to discern a -closer connection than is generally recognized between the Resurrection -and the power of loving. You will remember that St. Paul constantly -connects the Resurrection of Christ with the “Spirit;” Christ was -“raised from the dead _in_, or _by_, _the Spirit_;” and St. Peter says -that Christ was “put to death in the flesh, but quickened _in the -Spirit_.” Now this Spirit is the Power of Love. Do we ask for an -explanation of this connection? It is surely obvious that the -Resurrection of Christ would not have directly availed men (so far as we -can see) unless it had been manifested to them. But how was it -manifested? We think it was by love: on the one hand by the unsatisfied -and longing love of the sorrowing disciples, creating a blank in the -heart which could only be filled by the image of the risen Saviour; on -the other hand by the unsatisfied and longing love of the Lord Jesus -Christ, dying with a purpose as yet unfulfilled. Thus—so far as concerns -the influence of the Resurrection of Jesus upon humanity—it was the -Spirit of Love that raised Jesus from the abyss of inert oblivion and -exalted Him to the right hand of God in the souls of men. I dare not say -that, if Jesus had failed to root Himself in the hearts of men He could -never have been raised from the dead; just as I dare not say that, if -St. Peter had not been inspired to say “Thou art the Christ,” the Church -could never have been founded on the rock of heaven-imparted faith. Let -us avoid this way of looking at things, as being repulsive and -preposterous, putting things terrestrial before things celestial. Let us -rather say that, because the rock of faith was being set up by the hand -of God in heaven, therefore at that same instant the Apostle received -the strength to utter his confession of faith; and because Christ’s -Spirit had soared up after death to the heaven of heavens and thence was -bending down lovingly to look upon His despairing followers, therefore -they received power to see Him again, living for them on earth. - -Yet as regards ordinary men, I cannot help occasionally reviving that -same preposterous method which I would discard in the case of Christ. -And starting from terrestrial phenomena first, I sometimes ask myself, -Is it possible that the resurrection of each human soul may depend upon -the degree to which it has rooted itself in the affection of others? The -Roman Catholic Church teaches that the condition of the dead may be -affected by the prayers of survivors; and many abuses have resulted from -a perverted and mechanical misinterpretation of that doctrine; but how -if the spirit of a dead man actually owes its spiritual resurrection, -not indeed to formally uttered petitions, but to the silent prayers, the -loving wishes, the irrepressible desires of fellow-spirits on earth and -in heaven? How if a man lives in heaven and in the second life so far as -his spirit has imprinted itself on the loving memories of others above -and below? “Has the dead man kindled in the heart of one single human -being a spark of genuine unselfish affection? To that extent, then, he -receives a proportional germ of expansive and eternal life—might it not -be so? And if it were so, then we could better understand how both the -Lord Jesus Christ, and we mortal men, die in the flesh but are raised to -a life eternal after death ‘in the Spirit’ and ‘by the Spirit’—that -great pervasive spiritual Power of Love which links all things in heaven -and earth together.” - -I trust I have theorized enough to please you. I have done so because on -the whole I think it best that you should see all the weakness, as well -as all the strength, of my position—the credulous and fanciful side of -it, as well as its breadth, its naturalness, its reasonableness, its -spiritual comfort, its dependence on moral effort, its recognition of -Law, its consistency with facts, and its absolute freedom from -intellectual difficulties. Regarded in the ordinary way, as being the -revivification of the material body, the Resurrection of Christ becomes -an isolated portent in history; regarded naturally, it becomes the -triumph of the Spirit over the fear of death, the central event of our -earthly history. Central I say, but not isolated; because there are seen -converging towards it, as it were predictively, all the phenomena of the -evolution and training of the Imagination; all instances of true poetic -and prophetic vision; the stars of heaven and all the creative -provisions of night and darkness and sleep and dreams, nay even death -itself. And what higher tribute (short of actual worship) can be paid to -the personality of Christ than to say that “the phenomena of His -resurrection are natural.” I think if I were depressed and shaken in -faith—as one is liable to be at times, not by intellectual but by moral -considerations, when one feels that evil is stronger than it should be, -both in oneself and outside oneself—it would be a great help to go and -hear some agnostic saying with vehement conviction, “The resurrection of -Christ was natural, purely natural.” I should bid him say it again, and -again; and I would go home and say it over and over again to myself by -way of comfort, to strengthen my faith: “The manifestations of the -Resurrection of Christ were purely natural. So they were. Things could -not be otherwise. Being what He was, Christ could not but thus be -manifested to His followers after death. It was the natural effect of -Christ’s personality upon the disciples; and through the disciples upon -St. Paul. Then what a Person have we here! A Person consciously superior -to death, and, after His death, fulfilling a promise which He made to -His disciples that He would still be present with them! What wonder if -He is even now present with us, influencing us with something of the -power with which He moved the last of the Apostles! What wonder if He is -destined yet for future ages to be a present Power among men until the -establishment of that Kingdom which He proclaimed upon earth, the -Fatherhood of God and brotherhood of man!” - -Footnote 31: - - “_A Romance of the Fourth Dimension_,” Swan & Sonnenschein. - - - - - XXV - THE INCARNATION - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I had not forgotten that, in order to complete the brief discussion of -the miraculous element in the New Testament, it is necessary to give -some explanation of the origin of the accounts of the birth of Christ. -Your last letter reminds me of this necessity, and you put before me two -alternatives. “If,” you say, “Christ was born of a Virgin, then a -miracle is conceded so stupendous that it is absurd to object to the -other miracles: but if Christ was not born of a Virgin, then, unless the -honesty of the Gospel narratives is to be impeached, some account is -needed of the way in which the miraculous legend found its way into the -Gospels;” and you add that you would like to know what meaning, if any, -I attach to the statement in the Creed, that Jesus was “born of a -Virgin.” - -As you probably anticipate, I accept the latter of your alternatives, -and I will therefore endeavour briefly to shew how the story of the -Miraculous Conception “found its way into the Gospels.” But first I must -protest against your expression as inexact. The story of the Miraculous -Conception, so far from having “found its way into _the Gospels_,” found -its way into only two out of the four, namely, St. Matthew’s and St. -Luke’s. And this fact, strong as it is, does not represent the strength -of the negative argument from omission. Of the _nine_ authors, or -thereabouts, of the different books in the New Testament, only two -contain any account, reference, or allusion to the Miraculous -Conception. No mention is made of it in any of the numerous Epistles of -St. Paul; nor in any of his speeches, nor in those of St. Peter, -recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, nor in any part of that book; nor -in the Epistles of St. John, St. James, St. Peter, St. Jude; nor in the -Apocalypse; nor in the Gospels of St. Mark and St. John! Even the two -Gospels that mention it contain no evidence that it was known to any of -the disciples during the life-time of Jesus, and one of these (Luke iii. -23) traces the genealogy of Jesus from Joseph and expressly declares -that He “was supposed” to be “the Son of Joseph.”[32] This negative -evidence becomes all the more weighty if you consider how very natural -it was, and I may almost say inevitable, that the story of a Miraculous -Conception should speedily find its way into the traditions of the early -Church. The causes that worked toward this result were, first, Old -Testament prophecy; secondly, traditions and expressions current among a -certain section of the Jews; thirdly, the preconceptions of pagan -converts. - -Recall to mind what was said in a previous letter concerning the -importance attached by the earliest Christians to the argument from -prophecy. Now there is a prophecy in Isaiah which, _if separated from -its context_, might seem to point to nothing but the Miraculous -Conception of the Messiah: “The Lord himself shall give you a sign: -behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son and shall call his name -Immanuel.” But a careful study of the context puts the matter in a quite -different light. Isaiah (vii. 10-viii. 4) is promising to King Ahaz -deliverance from the kings of Syria and Samaria. As the king will not -ask for a sign, the prophet promises that the Lord will give him one; a -virgin shall conceive and bring forth a child and shall call his name -Immanuel (“God with us”): he shall “eat butter and honey” when he -arrives at the age of distinction between good and evil; for before he -arrives at that age, the land abhorred by Ahaz shall be “forsaken by -both her kings.” The meaning appears to be that, within the time -necessary for the conception and birth of a child, that is to say, in -less than a year, the prospects of deliverance for Judah from her -present enemies (Syria and Samaria) shall so brighten that a child shall -be born and called by a name implying the favour of God; afterwards, -before that child shall grow up to childhood, the two aggressive -countries of Syria and Samaria shall be themselves desolated, as well as -Judah, by the “razor” of Assyria which shall shave the country clean -from all cultivated crops. Amid the general desolation, the fruit trees -will be cut down, the corn will not be sown; bread there will be none; -there will be nothing to eat but “butter and honey;” it is not the -new-born child alone who shall eat “butter and honey;” “butter and honey -shall _every one eat that is left in the land_” (vii. 22). - -In all this, even though we may suppose that there may have been some -Messianic reference, there is no prediction at all of a conception from -a virgin or of a miracle of any kind. Indeed, the prophecy appears to -find some sort of fulfilment in what happens immediately afterwards -(Isaiah viii. 1-4), when the prophet contracts a marriage, and calls the -son who springs from it by a name implying the vengeance imminent on -Samaria and Assyria: “Call his name Maher-shalal-hash-baz (_i.e._ booty, -quick, spoil, speedy): for before the boy shall have knowledge to cry my -father! my mother! the riches of Damascus and the spoil of Samaria shall -be taken away before the king of Assyria.” No doubt it may be said that -this son was not called “Immanuel,” so that the prophecy was not -fulfilled in him. But the same argument might be urged against the -application to our Lord; for He also was not called “Immanuel,” but -received the old national name of “Joshua,” “Jeshua,” or “Jesus.” -Reviewing all the circumstances of the prophecy, I think we may say, -without exaggeration, first, that there are no grounds for seeing in it -any reference to a Miraculous Conception; secondly, that, when isolated, -it might easily be misinterpreted so as to convey such a reference.[33] - -Even if no such prophecy had existed, the language and preconceptions of -the earliest Christians and their converts would almost necessarily have -introduced a belief in the Miraculous Conception. The language of -Philo—who represents not a mere individual eccentricity but the current -phraseology of the Alexandrine school of thought, and whose influence -may be traced in almost every page of the Fourth Gospel—consistently -affirms that, whenever a child is mentioned in the Old Testament as -having been born to be a deliverer in fulfilment of a divine promise, -that child is “begotten of God.” The words of Sarah, he says, indicate -that, in reality, “The _Lord begot_ Isaac.” God is also spoken of as -“the _husband of Leah_.” Zipporah is described as being “pregnant by _no -mortal_.” Samuel, in words that contain an implied belief that only his -maternal parentage was mortal, is declared to be “perhaps a man,” and -“born of a human mother.” I have already quoted one passage about Isaac -but another asserts that he is to be considered “_not the result of -generation_ but the work of _the unbegotten_.” Sometimes the language of -Philo is so worded as to convey even to a careful reader the impression -that he believed in a literally Miraculous Conception, as for example -when he says that “Moses introduces Sarah as being _pregnant when -alone_, and as being _visited by God_.” Elsewhere, he removes the -possibility of misunderstanding by saying that “the Scripture is -cautious, and describes God as the husband, not of a virgin, but of -virginity.” None the less, you can easily see how expressions of this -kind, current among Jewish philosophers a generation before the time of -St. Paul, might be very easily interpreted literally by ordinary people -unskilled in these metaphorical subtleties, and especially by Gentile -converts asking for a plain answer to a plain question, “What was the -parentage of this man whom you call the Son of God?” - -In truth the preconceptions of the Gentile converts must have played no -small part in preparing the way for the doctrine of the literal -Miraculous Conception. The Greeks and Romans who worshipped or honoured -Æsculapius son of Apollo, Romulus son of Mars, Hercules son of Jupiter, -and a score of other demi-gods, would be quite familiar with the notion -of a god or hero born of a human mother and of a divine father; they -would not only be prepared for it in the case of Jesus, whom they were -called on to adore as the Son of God, they would even demand and assume -it. They would argue much as Tertullian argued: “If he was the son of a -man, he was not the son of God; and if he was the son of God, he was not -the son of a man.” This argument ought to have been met by a flat -denial, thus: “The mere physical and carnal union by which, according to -your legends, the gods, assuming the forms of men, generated Æsculapius, -Romulus, and Hercules, is not to be thought of here. When we speak of -Jesus being the Son of God, we do not mean that His body was formed by -God descending from heaven and assuming human shape or functions, but -that His Spirit was spiritually begotten of God. It is therefore quite -possible that Jesus may have been the Son of God according to the Spirit -and yet the son of man according to the flesh.” But instead of that, the -whole truth, there came back this half-true answer. “The parentage was -divine, but not of the materialistic nature you suppose: God did not -assume human shape: the generation was spiritual.” By these words there -may have been meant at first, simply what Philo meant, that while the -spiritual parentage was divine, the material parentage was human: but -such an answer would leave many under the impression that the body as -well as the spirit of Jesus resulted from a spiritual generation in -which no human father participated. The Gentiles would naturally -interpret the Philonian doctrine literally and say of Mary, as Philo had -said of Sarah, that she was “pregnant when alone, and visited by God.” - -From a very different point of view, the ritual and hymnals of some of -the Jews might facilitate the growth of the belief that Jesus was born -of a virgin. For they might naturally speak of their Messiah as being a -child of the virgin daughter of Sion, whose only husband was Jehovah. -And hence in the Apocalypse, a book imbued with Jewish feeling, we find -Jesus described (xii. 1-6) as the child of a woman who evidently -represents Israel: “A woman arrayed with the sun, and the moon under her -feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars; and she was _with -child_.... And she was delivered of a _son_, _a man child, who is to -rule all the nations with a rod of iron_.” This personification of the -daughter of Israel or of Jerusalem as representing the nation, the bride -of Jehovah, is very common in the prophets. You may find similar -personifications in the New Testament. The Apocalypse describes the -Church as the Holy City, the New Jerusalem, descending from Heaven “_as -a bride_ adorned for her husband.” St. Paul speaks of the New Jerusalem, -which is above (_i.e._ the spiritual Jerusalem, free from the law), as -being “the _mother_ of us all.” Sometimes the personification of the -Church is liable to be misinterpreted literally, as in St. Peter’s and -St. John’s Epistles, where “the elect lady” “thine elect sister” and -“the (lady) in Babylon” have been supposed by some to refer to -individuals, but are believed by Bishop Lightfoot to represent the -Churches of the places from which, and to which, the epistles were -written. The whole of St. Paul’s Epistles presuppose the metaphor of a -Virgin Church, and toward the end of the second century (177 A.D.) we -find a very curious passage (in an epistle from the Church of Lyons) in -which the repentance and martyrdom of some previous apostates are -described as a restoration to “the Virgin Mother” of her children, -“raised from the dead.” You see then how this personification runs -through all Jewish and all early Christian literature, so that the -Church, old or new, might be described as a woman; and I ought perhaps -not to have omitted the strange dream in the second book of Esdras (x. -44-46) where Israel is a woman and the Temple is the son: “This woman -whom thou sawest is Sion ... she hath been thirty years barren, but -after thirty years Solomon builded the city and offered offerings, and -then bare the barren a son.” Does not this continuous stream of thought -shew how natural it would be for the earliest Jewish Christians to adore -Christ in their hymns as the son of the daughter of Zion, the son of the -Virgin Mother? Add to this the prejudice among the Gentile converts -against a human paternity for the Son of God, the influence of the -Alexandrine Jewish philosophy and the still more powerful influence of -Isaiah’s prophecy about “the virgin,” and I think you will see that the -causes at work to produce the belief in the Miraculous Conception were -so strong that I may almost say a miracle would have been needed to -prevent it. - -But it has been urged that St. Luke was a historian and a physician; -that he had great power of careful description—as may be seen from his -exact account of St. Paul’s shipwreck;—that he describes the -circumstances of the miraculous birth in a plain and simple manner: and -that he assures us that he had taken every pains to make himself -acquainted with the truth of the things which he records.[34] All this -may be: but because a man can describe exactly a comparatively recent -shipwreck, which he may have himself witnessed, or which at all events -may have been witnessed by some who told him the story, it does not -follow that he has exact information about a miraculous birth which -occurred (if at all) upwards of sixty years—more probably upwards of -seventy—before he wrote. The mother of Jesus had, in all probability, -passed away when St. Luke was writing. Such obscurities and variations -by this time attended the stories concerning the infancy of Jesus, that -we find even the compiler of St. Matthew’s Gospel apparently ignorant -that the home of the parents of Jesus was (if St. Luke is correct on -this point) not Bethlehem, but Nazareth. It is hardly possible to deny -his ignorance when we find in the First Gospel these words: “Now when -Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judæa ... And he arose and took the young -child and his mother and came into the land of Israel. _But_ when he -heard that Archelaus was reigning over _Judæa, he was afraid to go -thither; and being warned [of God] in a dream, he withdrew into the -parts of Galilee and came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth_.” -Obviously the writer is ignorant that “a city called Nazareth” was the -original home of the parents of Jesus, and that they had no reason for -returning to “Judæa;” his whole narrative assumes that Bethlehem in -Judæa was the home, and that the parents of Jesus were only prevented -from returning thither by the fear of Archelaus, which forced them to -leave their native city and to take up their abode in “_a city_ called -Nazareth.” Now it is probable that St. Luke’s account is here the -correct one, and that the erroneous tradition found in the First Gospel -was a mere inference from the prophecy that “from Bethlehem” there -should “come forth a governor.” But what a light does this discrepancy -throw upon the uncertainty of the very earliest traditions about the -infancy of Jesus when we find _the only two Evangelists who say anything -about it, differing as to the place where the parents of Jesus lived at -the time when they were married_! I have no doubt that St. Luke did his -best, in the paucity, or more probably in the variety, of conflicting -traditions, to select those which seemed to him most authoritative and -most spiritual. Even the most careless reader of the English text must -feel, without knowing a word of Greek, that St. Luke’s first two -chapters—which contain the stories of the infancy—are entirely different -from the style of the preface (i. 1-4), and from that of the rest of the -Gospel. The two chapters sound, even in English, like a bit out of the -Old Testament; and any Greek scholar, accustomed to the LXX, would -recognize that they were either a close translation from the Aramaic, or -written by some one who wrote in Greek, modelling his style on the LXX. -It is probable that they represent some traditions of Aramaic origin, -the best that St. Luke could find when he began to write of the wonders -that had happened more than sixty or seventy years ago. To those who can -form the least conception of the extent to which Oriental tradition in -the villages of Galilee might be transmuted after an interval of sixty -or seventy years, it must seem quite beside the mark to assert the -historical accuracy of the tradition concerning the Miraculous -Conception which St. Luke has incorporated in his Gospel, on the ground -that he was a physician; that he took pains to get at the truth; and -that he has written a masterly and exact account of a shipwreck which -he, or some friends of his, may have witnessed in person. - -The very sobriety of his own preface ought to put us on our guard -against attaching to St. Luke’s history such weight, for example, as we -attach to the history of Thucydides. He says, it is true, that he had -“traced the course of all things accurately from the first, _i.e._ from -the commencement of Christ’s life:” but this amounts to much less than -the statement of Thucydides, who tells us that he had personally -inquired from those who knew the facts, besides having seen some of the -facts himself (Thuc. i. 22). He does not say that “the eye-witnesses and -ministers of the word” had given _him_ any special information: on the -contrary he mentions himself only as one of many who had received -“traditions” from eye-witnesses, and he implies that a good many of the -existing narratives, _based upon these very traditions_, were at least -so far unsatisfactory that they did not dispense with an additional -narrative from him. The emphasis which St. Luke lays on the fact that he -has traced things “from the first,” and that he writes “in -order,”—combined with the mention of “many” predecessors who have “taken -in hand” the work which he intends to do over again—makes it almost -certain that some of these Evangelists had omitted all account of our -Lord’s birth; others had not regarded chronological order; others had -not written “accurately.” All these deficiencies indicate a great and -general difficulty in obtaining exact information; and the mere honesty -of a new attempt, under circumstance so disadvantageous, cannot justify -us in attaching a very high authority to a tradition in this new Gospel, -of a miraculous character, and in a style that appears to be not St. -Luke’s own, referring to an incident supposed to have occurred upwards -of sixty years before. This digression about St. Luke’s Gospel will not -be without its use if it leads you to perceive that history, and -experience, and criticism, while they tend to make us believe more, tend -also to make us know less, about Christ’s life and doctrine; I mean, -that we find we know a little less about the historical facts of -Christ’s life than we supposed we knew, while we are led to believe a -great deal more in the divine depth and wisdom of His ideas. - -I pass to the second question which you put to me, “What sense, if any, -do you yourself attach to the statement in the Creed that Christ was -born of a Virgin?” Before I tell you what sense I attach to it, or -rather what sense seems to me the only one compatible with the facts, I -must honestly express my doubt whether any sense that is compatible with -the facts, is also compatible with the words. To speak plainly, the -statement appears to be so obviously literal that I shrink from -interpreting it metaphorically; and yet, if taken literally, it appears -to me to be false. The word “Virgin” is perhaps the only word in the -service and ritual of the Church of England (if the Athanasian Creed be -left out of consideration, owing to the non-natural and humane -interpretations of it which have been sanctioned by high authority) -which has made me doubt at times whether I ought to do official work as -a minister in that Church. As regards the “resurrection of the body,” -asserted in one of the Creeds, I feel little or no difficulty: for St. -Paul’s use of the term “spiritual body” allows great latitude to those -who would give a spiritual interpretation to the phrase in the Creed; -and I trust that I have made it clear to you that I accept Christ’s -Resurrection as a reality, though a spiritual reality.[35] But the words -implying the birth from the Virgin stand on a different footing. In the -Resurrection of Jesus I believe that there was a unique vision of the -buried Saviour, apparent to several disciples at a time; but in the -conception and birth of Jesus I have no reason for thinking that there -was anything unusual apparent to the senses. What can I mean then by -saying that Jesus is “born of a Virgin”? - -All that I can mean is this. Human generation does not by any means -account for the birth of a new human spirit. So far as we are righteous, -we all owe our righteousness to a spiritual seed within us; “we are -not,” as Philo would say, “the result of generation but the work of the -Unbegotten.” So far as we are righteous, we are “born not of blood, nor -of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God” (John i. -13). But of the Lord Jesus Christ we are in the habit of saying and -believing that He was uniquely and entirely righteous; and therefore we -say that He was uniquely and entirely born of God. In all human -generation there must be some congenital divine act, if a righteous soul -is to be produced; and in the generation of Christ there was a unique -congenital act of the Holy Spirit. That Word of God which in various -degrees inspires every righteous human soul (none can say how soon in -its existence) did not inspire Jesus, but was (to speak in metaphor) -totally present in Jesus from the first so as to exclude all -imperfection of humanity. Human unrighteousness—such as we are in the -habit of attributing to human generation—there was, in this case, none. -Therefore we say that the generation of Jesus was not human but divine. - -So much I can honestly say because I heartily believe it. How far one is -justified in putting so strained an interpretation on the words “born of -the Virgin Mary”—even in the Church of England, where simultaneous -conservatism and progress have been bought at the cost of many strained -interpretations—is a question on which I may perhaps hereafter say a -word or two, but not now. Meantime let me merely add my conviction that -there may have been a time when this illusion of the Miraculous -Conception did more good than harm. In former days, that spiritual truth -which we can now disentangle from the story of the Miraculous Conception -may have been conveyed by means of it to hearts which would have -otherwise never recognized that Jesus was the Son of God. It was surely -better then, and it is better now, that men should believe the great -truth that Jesus is the Son of God, at the cost of believing (provided -they can honestly believe) the untruth that Jesus was not the son of -Joseph, than that they should altogether fail to recognize His divine -Sonship, because they were alive to the fact that He was born of human -parents in accordance with the laws of humanity. But in these days the -doctrine of the Miraculous Conception seems to me fraught with evil; -partly because the weakness of the evidence makes the narrative a -stumbling-block for many who are taught to consider this doctrine -essential and who cannot bring themselves to believe it; partly because -it tends to sanction a false and monastic ideal of life; to separate -Jesus from common humanity and from human love and sympathy; and to -encourage false notions about a material Resurrection of the body of -Jesus, which naturally result in a false, bewildering, and disorderly -expectation of a material Resurrection for ourselves. - -Footnote 32: - - Yet I have heard it said, “_So far as evidence goes_, you have no more - reason for rejecting the Miraculous Conception than for rejecting the - story that Jesus washed the feet of the Apostles: for two witnesses - attest the former; but only one, the latter. Your objection is _a - priori_.” Such arguments seem to me to fail to recognize the first - principles of evidence. The omission of a stupendous marvel, an - integral part (and is not the parentage an integral part?) of a - biography, by biographers who have no motive for omitting it and every - motive for inserting it, is a _strong proof that they did not know - it_. For a similar instance, see above, p. 167. - -Footnote 33: - - You remember that the two accounts of the Miraculous Conception differ - in respect of the “annunciation”; which St. Matthew describes as being - made to Joseph, St. Luke as being made to Mary. It is interesting to - note how these two variations correspond to two variations in the - ancient prophecy. - - In the LXX the name is to be given to the child, not by the mother, - but by the future _husband_: “The virgin shall be with child and bring - forth a son, and _thou shalt_ call his name Immanuel”. In the Hebrew, - the “virgin,” or “maiden,” is _herself_ to name the child; “A _virgin_ - shall ... bring forth and _shall_ call, &c.” Adopting the former - version, a narrator would infer that the announcement of the birth was - to be made to Joseph, as the first Gospel does: “She shall bring forth - a child and _thou_ (Joseph) shalt call his name Jesus.” Adopting the - latter version, and changing the third into the second person for the - purpose of an “annunciation,” the narrator would infer that since the - name was to be given _by the mother_, the announcement was made _to - the mother_, as the third Gospel does; “_Thou shalt_ be with child, - and shalt bring forth a son, and _shalt_ call his name Jesus.” - - Note also that afterwards, when St. Matthew actually quotes the whole - prophecy with the name “Immanuel” (i. 23), he alters the verb into the - _third person plural_: “That it might be fulfilled which was spoken of - the Lord by the prophet, saying, Behold the virgin shall be with - child, and shall bring forth a child, and _they shall_ call his name - Immanuel.” The reason is obvious. It would not be true to say that - _Mary_ called her son “Immanuel”; it would only be possible to suggest - that _men in general_ (“they”), looking on the Child as the token of - God’s presence among them, might bestow on him some such title (not - name) as “God with us.” Consequently St. Matthew here alters “thou” - into “they”. - -Footnote 34: - - _Contemporary Review_, Feb. 1886, p. 193. - -Footnote 35: - - I must admit that a more serious difficulty is presented to Sponsors - by the interrogative form of the Creed in the Baptismal service, to - which they are expected to reply in the affirmative: “Dost thou - believe in the Resurrection of the _flesh_?” But I can hardly think - that many clergymen would wish to reject an otherwise eligible Sponsor - who confided to them that he could only accept “flesh” in the sense of - “body,” and that too in the Pauline sense of “spiritual body.” - - - - - XXVI - PRAYER, HEAVEN, HELL - - -You ask me whether one who has seceded from miraculous to non-miraculous -Christianity still finds himself able to pray as before. But towards the -end of your letter you amend your question. You are “quite sure,” you -are pleased to say, from what you know of me, that I shall “answer this -question affirmatively, though in defiance of all logic:” and therefore, -anticipating my answer, you state your objection to it beforehand, and -ask me how I can meet your objection, which is to this effect: “If the -laws of nature are never suspended, then it is absurd, or perhaps -impious, to pray for that which implies their suspension. For example, a -friend of mine may be in a stage of disease so fatally advanced that, -without a suspension of the laws of nature, it is no more possible that -he should recover from the disease than that his body should rise from -the grave. According to the tenets of your non-miraculous Christianity, -must I not abstain from praying that he may recover?” - -I do not see any great difficulty here. Change the hypothesis for a -moment. Suppose your friend to be no longer living, but dead. Are you -willing—would you be willing, even were you the most orthodox believer -in miraculous Christianity—to pray that the body of your dead friend -might arise revivified from the grave a week after he had been laid in -it? You know you would not be willing. Why not? You cannot say “Because -it is impossible,” for you would admit (on the supposition of your being -a believer in the miraculous) not only that it is possible, but that it -has actually been done in times past. But you would feel, I am sure, -that you dare not, and ought not, to pray for this object, because such -a prayer would be a revolt against that established order of things -which you recognize to be a manifestation of God’s present will. I say -“God’s present will,” because you do not (if you agree with me) regard -death as being in accordance with God’s future will: it is an evil, -sprung, not from God, but from evil, out of which God is working good. -But He bids us acquiesce in it during our present imperfect state of -existence; and hence, though you believe He will ultimately destroy -death, you do not feel justified in praying that its present operation -may be neutralized by a suspension of the laws of nature. - -Now to return to your own supposition that your friend is not dead, but -merely in danger of death. Health and life are dependent upon many -complex causes, among which (it will be admitted by all) are those -mysterious fluctuations of the thoughts and emotions, which I believe in -many cases to proceed—I speak in a metaphor—straight from God Himself. -To one who believes that the spirits of men are in constant communion -with the all-sustaining Spirit of the Creator, the thoughts of men may -well seem to be as dependent upon their divine Origin as the air in my -little room is at this moment dependent upon the changes of the -circumambient atmosphere. Of course, if you are a thorough-going, -scientific hope-nothing and trust-nothing, such a belief as this appears -to you an idle dream. From your point of view, you are a machine; your -friend is a machine; all men are machines; the world is a machine; the -action and inter-action of all these animate and inanimate machines is -predetermined, even to the minutest movement of a limb, or most fleeting -shade of thought, in each one of the myriads of human mechanisms called -men. - -The thorough-going materialist, when he rebukes his son and tells him -that he “ought not to have” told a lie, knows perfectly well that his -son could not possibly help telling that lie, and that he was bound by -all the laws of nature to tell it. The materialist father is, in fact, -telling a lie himself; only more deliberately than the little son. He is -using words which have no true meaning for him, as a kind of oil to -grease the wheels of the little machine before him, having learned by -accumulated experience that this lying phrase, “You _ought_ to have,” -has for many thousands of years proved a very effective kind of oil, and -that the true and scientific phrase, “It would have been better if you -could have, but you could not,” would be wholly inefficacious. But since -it is obvious that this view of existence converts all moral language, -and almost all the higher relations of life, into one gigantic lie, I -make no apology at all for putting it by with contempt as being beneath -the consideration of a child of ten at which age, as far as I remember I -grappled with this question of predestination, and settled it (so far as -I was concerned, for ever) by coming to the conclusion that “it does not -_work_.” Now when you have once given up, as unworkable, the theory that -all our thoughts and emotions spring necessarily from antecedent -material causes, you have bidden good-bye to Knowledge, so far as -concerns the origin of human thought, and you are thrown back upon -Faith. I believe therefore, and I make no apology for my belief, that -the mysterious fluctuations of human thought and will may sometimes -proceed from God without the intervention of material causes, perhaps in -virtue of the existence of some invisible law of union by which the -souls of men are united to God and to one another. This being my -belief—which at all events does not contain so many and such -perpetually-recurring inconsistencies as the belief of your -thorough-going materialist—you will understand, without much further -explanation, when and why I should pray even for those of whom the -physician is inclined to despair. Faith and hope, have, before now, -worked such wonders in healing, that “while there is life there is hope” -has passed into a proverb. I cannot be sure that my prayers might not -have some kind of direct power—by a kind of brain-wave such as we have -heard of lately—in affecting the emotions and spirits of the sufferer. -It is seldom that even a physician can speak with certainty about the -immediate issue of a disease: and whatsoever is uncertain is (if it be -also right) a reasonable subject for prayer. But if I were myself -absolutely convinced that there was no chance of my friend’s recovery -without a suspension of the laws of nature, I should feel that prayer -rightly and naturally gave way to resignation. - -No one however who is in the habit of praying will think it necessary to -spend much time or thought in discriminating exactly between that which -may be, and that which cannot possibly be. He must know that, very -often, where his prayer trenches on the province of the material, the -line cannot be drawn except by an expert in science, which he may not -happen to be; and besides, in the mood of prayer, he will feel that the -scientific and discriminating spirit is out of place. He is not thinking -of things scientifically, but spiritually, putting his wishes before the -Father in heaven, and content to couple each wish with an “If it be -possible.” Sometimes he learns, after constant repetition, that the -prayer is an unfit one, and he discontinues it; in that case he has -gained by his prayer a closer insight into, and conformity with, the -will of God. In other cases he continues his prayer and receives an -answer to it—either the answer that he himself desires, or some other -perhaps, quite different from that which he expected, but one which he -ultimately recognizes to be the best. But there will be cases where he -will continue his prayer, feeling it to be right and natural, although -he receives no answer to it at all, so far as he can discern. For he -will feel quite certain that no genuine prayer is wasted. Our spirits, -or our angels—to use the language of metaphor—are not on earth: they sit -together in heaven, that is to say, in the heart of God; and whenever -one of us can conceive a genuinely unselfish and righteous wish for a -brother spirit and wing it with faith so that it flies up to heaven—a -flight by no means so easy or so common as we suppose, and probably not -often flown, unless the arrow is feathered by deeds and pains as well as -words—then it not only brings back a blessing upon the wisher but also -thrills through the spiritual assembly above and comes back as a special -blessing to the person prayed for. But need I add that this is not a -process to be performed mechanically? There is no recipe for effectual -prayer. - -But, to come down from metaphors, let me attempt to answer your -question, “What difference of attitude in prayer will there be between -the believer in natural, and the believer in miraculous, Christianity?” -As far as my experience goes, there will be very little; except that the -former will be rather more disposed to ask, before uttering a prayer, -how far the granting of it might indirectly affect others. Logically and -theoretically there ought to be a great deal of difference; for if the -believer in the miraculous were consistent, he might naturally pray that -a miracle might be performed for him, as it has been for others, for a -good purpose. As a matter of fact, the prayers of children trained in -orthodoxy are thus sometimes consistent. I dare say one might find a -child who has prayed that the sun might stand still that he might have a -longer holiday. And why not now from the child’s point of view as well -as formerly? But I suppose few men in England, now, even of the strictly -orthodox, are in this puerile stage. Almost all full-grown English -Protestants recognize that, although miracles were freely performed from -the year 4004 B.C. to, say A.D. 61 or thereabouts—when St. Paul shook -off the serpent and took no harm—yet “the age of miracles is now past.” -Yet I have heard of men of business who make a point of praying -earnestly on the subject of commercial speculations, the rise and fall -of consols, the price of sugar and the like. Will any one maintain that -people are not the worse for such prayers as these, or that the believer -in natural Christianity is not a gainer by losing the desire and the -power to utter them? On the whole, I see but one subject of prayer -mentioned in our English Prayer-book, as to which natural Christianity -would probably dictate silence: I mean the weather. It might be argued -that, “since the weather is affected by human action (by the clearing of -forests, draining of marshes, and so on), and since prayers affect human -action, therefore they _do_ affect the weather _indirectly_, and _may_ -affect it _directly_.” But from “indirect” to “direct” is a great leap; -and I am moved toward resignation rather than prayer, by the thought -that, in revealing to us more and more of the extent of the causes and -effects of meteorological phenomena, God seems to be shewing us that, in -asking for weather that suits ourselves, we may be asking for weather -that may not suit others. I should be sorry to see harvest prayers -excluded from our Church service; but I think they should express our -hope and trust in God’s orderly government of the seasons, beseeching -Him to bestow on the husbandman patience and skill so as to meet and -improve adversity, and on the nation thrift and frugality so as to avoid -waste. - -Since writing the last paragraph I was interrupted; and now, returning -to my letter, I feel strongly inclined to cancel the last two or three -pages of apologetic argumentation; arguing about prayer seems so -absurdly useless. Yet perhaps my remarks may weigh for something with -you in your present oscillation. They may possibly prevent you from -giving up, in a moment of virtuous logic, a habit which, once -discontinued, is not easily resumed. Let them pass then; but let them -not pass without a protest that they by no means express my sense of the -vital necessity of prayer for a Christian. To me it seems the very -breath of our spiritual life, as needful for peace and union with God as -communion between children and parents is needful for domestic concord. -Without it, faith must speedily vanish. Even a comparatively dull and -lifeless petition at stated intervals has some value as a sign-post, -indicating the road on which we ought to be travelling though our feet -may be straying elsewhere. But in truth real Christian prayer (mostly -silent) should be, as St. Paul says “without ceasing;” for prayer is but -aspiration and desire, emerging into shape. When a man has reached such -a height that he has ceased to wish to be something better than he is, -then and then only may he cease to pray. - -One kind of prayer at all events I have felt able to retain which seems -to me of far more value than the prayer for fair weather—I mean prayer -for the dead. I do not deny that, when coupled with superstitious views -about heaven and hell, the custom of praying for the dead may result in -superstition, and even in the encouragement of immorality; and the hired -and conventional prayers for the dead prevalent in the sixteenth century -appear to me to have constituted an abuse against which our English -Reformers did well to protest. But these abuses and corruptions seem to -me accidental, and quite insufficient to deter us from use of the most -helpful of spiritual habits. I do not propose to argue about it, but you -may like to know the sort of accident by which I was led to form this -habit, and the practical reasons for which I clung to it, and still -cling to it, with the deepest conviction that it is not only spiritually -useful, but also based on spiritual truth. - -Many years ago a brother of mine was drowned at sea through the sudden -capsizing of a vessel by night. When the news came, I was at first -distracted between an intense desire to pray as before, and a kind of -instinctive and general repugnance to all prayers for the dead as being -“a Romanist practice.” All the books I had read, and all the notions I -had formed, about the fixed future of the dead, suggested that such -prayers were useless, if not blasphemous. On the other side there was no -argument at all, nothing but a vague strong desire to pray. The painful -conflict of that night—a conflict, as it seems to me now, between true -natural religion and the false appearance of revealed religion—is still -present to my recollection. At last it occurred to me that more than a -month had elapsed between the death and our knowledge of the death, and -throughout all those thirty days my prayers had gone up to God for one -whose soul was no longer upon earth. Were those prayers wasted? I could -not believe it. Besides, we had not yet received full details of the -loss of the vessel. It was just possible that my brother might have been -saved in one of the ship’s boats: he might be still living, and in sore -need of help: how monstrous, if it were so, that I should in such a -crisis cease to pray for him! So with doubt and trembling I still -continued my custom, fashioning some kind of prayer to suit the -emergency. While I was in this oscillating state of mind, news came that -a second boatful, and almost immediately afterwards that a third, had -been picked up at sea. My brother was not in either: but why might there -not be a fourth? For some time, with less doubt than before, I continued -to pray. Days, weeks, months rolled on, and now all hope had slipped -away; but the habit was now fixed. I could not, or would not, break it. -Praying day and night for one who was possibly living; just possibly -living; probably not living; certainly dead—I had learned to realize the -presence of my brother’s spirit, as very near and close to me, as one -with whom I was still in some kind of communion; and now to drop his -name out of my prayers, simply because I should never touch his hand -again in this world, seemed a faithless, a wicked, a cruel act. The -prayer could not indeed remain the same in circumstances so completely -changed; I could of course no longer pray that the dead might be -restored to me on earth; but it was still open to me to make mention of -his name, and to beseech God that he and I might meet again in heaven: -and thus, with a curious kind of compromise, worthy of a less youthful -theologian, I circumvented my own orthodoxy by still praying in reality -for my brother while I appeared to be praying for myself. More than -seven-and-twenty years have now passed away, but not a night or morning -has passed without the mention of that familiar name; and I entreat you -to believe me that, next to the power of Christ Himself upon the soul, I -have not found, nor can I imagine, any influence so potent as this habit -of praying for the dead, to detach the mind from petty and visible -things, to unlock the spiritual world, to carry the soul up to the very -source and centre of spiritual life, and to bring us into faithful -communion with the Father of the spirits of all flesh. - -You see I have kept my promise of not arguing on this matter. I have -simply told you how I have longed and doubted; how my doubts were -dissipated by practice; and what strength I have personally derived from -the practice. Probably this will seem to you, if interesting, at all -events inadequate. “Logically,” you will perhaps say to yourself, “he -ought to have attempted first to convince me that the eternal state of -the dead is not finally determined at the moment of death; so that -prayer may reasonably be expected to have some power to change their -condition. He ought to have told me whether he believes in a Purgatory, -or in a limited Hell; whether he is a Universalist; or whether he -believes in the annihilation of all who are not to be saved. In a word, -he ought to have given me a full account of his theory about the -condition of the dead, before he commends to me the habit of praying for -them.” - -Here I fear I shall terribly disappoint you; but, at the risk of -whatever disappointment, I will confess to you the whole truth. This -part of my Manual of Theology has large print, large margin, and several -blank pages. I believe some things with such force and clearness that I -prefer to say I do not believe them. I _see_ them: but about many other -things which most people believe, I know little or nothing. Do I believe -in a Hell? Yes, as firmly as I believe in a Heaven; but not in your Hell -perhaps, and certainly not in the ordinary guide-books to Hell and -Heaven. Perhaps some would call my Hell “merely retribution,” or “an -illogical and ill-defined Purgatory;” and from their point of view they -could be right in complaining of its indefiniteness; for they profess to -know all about it and to be able to define it. But from my point of view -I am equally right in speaking indefinitely; for I profess to have only -a glimpse of it. Of the principles of Hell and Heaven I am certain, but -of the details I am entirely ignorant. I know nothing whatever, and I -know that no one else knows anything whatever, about the state of the -dead; except that they are just as much in God’s hand when dead as when -living, and that He will ultimately do the best thing for each; but what -that “best thing” may be I cannot tell in detail, although I am very -sure that it will be one thing for St. Francis and quite another for -Nero. For the rest, all the elaborate structures and fancy-fabrics of -Heaven and Hell, Purgatory, Paradise, Limbo, and other regions, whether -theologians or poets be the architects, appear to me built upon the -flimsiest foundations, tags of texts, fragments of words, quagmires of -metaphor, quicksands of hyperbole. No; such real knowledge—or shall we -say such conviction?—as we have about the eternal future of the dead, is -to be based, not upon argument or inference from minute and disputable -interpretations of small portions of Scripture, but mainly upon our -faith in the divine righteousness and power. You will not, I hope, -misunderstand my words that “God will do the best thing for each,” or -draw from them the inference, “Then he is a Universalist after all.” I -took for granted—I hope I was not wrong—that you would remember the -definition of justice which you have read in Plato. In fact therefore I -merely expressed in those words my conviction that God would be “just” -to us after death.[36] Might we not also define the highest mercy, in -the same terms in which we define the highest justice, as being the -feeling that prompts us to “do what is best for each”? And, if so, does -it not seem to follow that in Hell God will not cease to be merciful, -and in Heaven God will not cease to be just? And hence are we not -brought close to the conclusion that Heaven and Hell are not really -places, but the diverse results of the operation of the Eternal—the just -Mercy, the merciful Justice—upon the diverse dead? But here the question -widens and deepens into expanses and depths altogether too vast and -profound for me, and I give up the problem. All that I know is, that -there will be hereafter a just retribution. - -Yet if I am to tell you my own conjectural imaginations—for who can help -at times imagining what the infinite unknown may be, however loth he may -be to insist or dogmatize about it, or even to bestow much attention on -it, when the urgent present presses its superior claims?—I will say for -myself that I cannot believe I shall have served all my apprenticeship -to righteousness in my brief life upon this earth, or that I shall be -fit immediately after death, for that closest communion with God which -appears to me the Heaven of Heavens. Some cleansing retribution, some -further purification, seems to me necessary and likely for myself—and, I -must add, for the greater number of those human beings with whom I have -had to do—before we attain to that blessed consummation. - -“So you believe in a Purgatory then?” How do I know? Say rather, I -conjecture there may be many heavens. In any case, I find it very easy -to imagine a retribution and a purification that shall be purely -spiritual, without having recourse to any material flames or physical -horrors. Some people find a difficulty in this notion: they consider it, -but deliberately put it aside; as if mere remorse, sorrow, and -self-condemnation, could never be bitter enough to constitute a just -Hell. I do not think they have ever realized—perhaps they have never -tried to realize—the pain that may be felt by a spirit sitting alone, -away from this familiar world and every well-known face, and quietly -judging and condemning itself. A mere accident, a ludicrous accident, -once gave me a moment’s experience of this feeling, and I have never -been able to forget it, never been able to put aside the conviction that -that feeling, intensified, might constitute Hell. - -It happened in this way. Some years ago, before nitrous oxide had come -into very general use among dentists, I went to have a tooth extracted, -and determined to try the gas. Perhaps I had some misgivings that it was -a little cowardly; perhaps I was a little nervous; in any case I -remember at the last moment thinking that I should like to be conscious -of the precise moment when unconsciousness came; I remember struggling -to retain consciousness—even when a tell-tale throbbing in the temples -shewed that something new was going on—protesting to myself that the gas -had “no power,” “no power at all yet,” “I don’t believe it’s going to -have any power”—till the portcullis came down. I suppose the consequence -was that I inhaled rather more than was usual; and when I came to myself -I heard the voices of the dentist and the physician—a long way off, as -it seemed to me, but with perfect distinctness saying that “he was a -long time coming to” and they did not “quite like the look of things,” -and so on. Meantime I lay motionless and without power either to move or -speak, but perfectly conscious. I took in the whole situation at once. I -was dead. I had passed into another state of existence. I could think -more clearly than before. I was a spirit. And then the thought came -pressing in upon me, as I reviewed my whole life and the manner of my -death, that to avoid a little pain I had done a wrong thing and had -deserted those who needed me and would miss me. No fear possessed me, -not the slightest fear, of any external punishment for the fault which I -thought I had committed: but in a detached solitude I seemed to be -quietly and coldly sitting in judgment upon myself, impartially hearing -what I had to say in self-defence, rejecting it as inadequate, and -passing against myself the verdict of Guilty. Painful, increasingly -painful, the burden of this self-condemnation seemed to press and crush -me down more and more past power of bearing, so that at last, when in -one moment I recovered both power of motion and knowledge that I was -alive again, I leapt up from the dentist’s arm-chair, and, without -taking the least notice of the two operators, I gave vent to my feelings -by shouting aloud the well-known words from Clarence’s dream - - “—and for a space - Could not believe but that I was in hell.” - -I shall not easily forget the look of mingled humour and horror with -which the dentist replied, “Well, sir, considering you are a clergyman, -I should have hoped it might have been the other place.” I tried to -explain. I assured him that it was a quotation from Shakespeare; that I -had not really believed that I was in the place commonly called Hell; -and so on. But I am quite sure my explanations were utterly ineffectual; -and to this day I probably labour under the suspicion, in the minds of -at least two worthy persons, of having committed some horrible crime by -which my conscience is racked with agony. In reality, however, it was a -small offence, if any, for which I suffered that bad quarter of a -minute; and I have often since thought that, if the mind is capable of -inflicting such pain upon itself for a venial error, those pangs must be -terrible indeed with which our sinful souls may be forced to scourge -themselves when we judicially review the actions of a selfish life with -a compulsory knowledge of all the evil, direct and indirect, which we -have wrought, and when we realize at last—ah, how differently from the -dull, decorous, conventional contrition with which we droned out the -words on earth, kneeling on the hassocks in the family pew—that “we have -left undone those things which we ought to have done, and done those -things which we ought not to have done.” - -But why do I thus discourse in detail upon a subject about which I have -admitted that I know no details? It is in order to shew you that though -I do not know much, the little I do know greatly influences me. The -thought of a material Hell has probably contributed largely to insanity, -and has exercised a baneful influence upon many women and children; but -the majority of healthy men who profess to believe in a pit of flame are -little influenced by it. It is so horrible, so unnatural, so unjust, -that in their heart of hearts they feel sure the good God cannot mean -it; He will let them off; or they will get off somehow—by absolution, by -forensic justification, by baptism, by uncovenanted mercies, or what -not. This is but natural. How can it not be natural to believe that an -unnatural and arbitrary Hell may be dispensed with by an unnatural and -arbitrary indulgence? I have no such consolations. With me, Hell is a -different thing altogether: it is natural, it is inevitable, it is just, -it is merciful. Not a day passes but I think of it and anticipate it in -some sort for myself and my friends. _Tout sepayera_: this act, I say, -or this neglect, was wrong, and must have been injurious: the doers -cannot escape from the consequences of it; I do not wish to escape from -the consequences of it. God will work good out of evil; but He will be -just, not indulgent. I do not want Him to be indulgent. Thus Heaven and -Hell, impending over the routine of my every-day life, become to me -practical and potent realities; but they are real to because the -conceptions I have formed of them are in accordance with the profound -laws of spiritual nature, and quite independent of the conflicting -fancies of theologians. - -Ask me what I trust to be in Heaven, and I can give you no answer save -that one which I have often given you before—a being capable of loving -and of serving God. Ask me the nature of Hell and Heaven, and my only -reply is that they will be God’s retribution. Ask me whether all will be -hereafter “saved,” and I am silent, or merely answer that God is good, -and that I believe a time will come when we, in Him, shall look back, -and around, and forward, and shall see that His work has been “very -good.” Enough for me to work and fight on the side of God and against -Evil, that His righteous Kingdom may come and bring with it the time -when His work will be seen to have been “very good.” As for other -details, I know nothing and delight in knowing nothing. I do not know -whether I shall live again on earth or elsewhere; whether I shall be a -being of three dimensions, or four, or of no dimensions at all; whether -I shall be in space or out of space. It is far better to give up -speculations about accidental trifles such as these: for accidents they -are, as compared with the essence of the second life, which consists in -Love. Do not give up the belief in that, at any cost; least of all, at -the cost of a little banter. “But surely it is possible that our very -highest and purest conceptions of Heaven may fall short of the reality.” -Granted: but we must hold fast to the belief that there is at all events -a proportion between our best terrestrial aspirations and their -celestial equivalents. We must reject, as from Satan, the suggestion -(was it Spinoza’s?) that there is no more likeness between God and our -conception of God than between the constellation Canis and a dog. “God -may not be Love:” I do not believe you: but if He is not Love, He will -be some celestial form of Love, corresponding to our Love, only -infinitely better. “You will not retain your individuality:” possibly -not, but certainly we shall have something corresponding to -individuality, only better. And so of the rest. We shall talk humbly, as -beseems our microcosmic faculties; we are but the transitory tenants of -a little world, which is to the Universe but as a dew-drop to the ocean: -yet even a dew-drop exhibits the same infrangible laws of light and the -same divine glories that are manifested in the rainbow and the sunset. -So it is with a human soul: there are laws in it of righteousness and -justice and retribution—laws which cannot be broken by the fictions and -illusions of theology, but must be manifested in all places and in all -time, now and for all eternity, on earth, in Heaven, in Hell. - -Footnote 36: - - Has not some confusion of thought arisen from a habit of confusing - “just” with “severe”? I believe some men would feel more reverently - towards God, if they would speak, not of His “justice,” but of His - “fairness.” - - - - - XXVII - PAULINE THEOLOGY - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I will begin this letter by quoting the end of your last. For when you -have thought over the matter I am sure your mind will be so completely -changed that unless I send you an exact copy of your own words you will -hardly believe you could ever have written them. You are speaking about -the theology of St. Paul, and this is what you say: “I presume that -Natural Christianity, however glad it may be to shelter itself under -Pauline authority in the low estimate it sets on miracles, will find it -difficult to digest or swallow Pauline theology. The abstruse and -artificial doctrines of the imputation of righteousness, justification -by faith, and the atonement, must surely stand at the very antipodes of -any religion, Christian, or other, that can claim the name of -_natural_.” - -I do not believe you can ever have given five minutes of attention to -these subjects: or if you have, you must have attended, not to St. Paul, -but to some voluminous commentator who has buried St. Paul’s text under -his own and other people’s annotations. Cast your commentaries away. -Read St. Paul for yourself in the light of his own works and the Old -Testament (especially the Septuagint version), and I will guarantee that -his general drift shall come out clear and definite enough; and, what is -more, you shall acknowledge that his religion is perfectly natural, so -natural that you meet exemplifications of it every day of your life, in -every family, in your own home, in your own heart. It would be tedious -if I were to give you a scheme of Pauline theology and then shew you the -naturalness of each part of the scheme. For me it would be long and -wearisome; and you too would be inclined to stop me at the end of every -other sentence and say “I know that St. Paul says this or that, but how -is it natural?” I will therefore begin at the other end, that is to say, -with Nature, and endeavour to shew you that the natural history of a -child, under favourable circumstances, exhibits the general features of -St. Paul’s theology, the scheme of Redemption by which the Apostle -believed mankind to have been led to God. - -We begin then with a baby—a creature wholly selfish (in no bad sense), -say, “self-regarding.” He is of course “in the flesh,” or “walks -according to the flesh;” that is to say, he obeys every impulse of the -moment, and these impulses are what we call animal impulses. He is -conscious of no Law, and therefore of no error: being “without the Law” -he “knows not sin.” As he grows up, he finds himself making mistakes, -trespassing against Nature’s rules, playing with fire, for example: and -Nature’s punishment makes him conscious of mistake, and desirous of -avoiding mistake for fear of being punished; that is to say, he learns -to avoid playing with fire because he has been burned for it. This is -his first introduction to “the Law;” and if he obeys Nature’s Law, -through fear of Nature’s punishment, or hope of Nature’s reward, so much -the better for him. Hitherto, however, there is no question of sin, only -of mistake. But now comes in the parental Law, saying “Do this,” “Do not -do that.” Sometimes he obeys; sometimes, when “the flesh” is too strong, -he disobeys. In the latter case he is punished. This new kind of Law is -not a machine-like reward or punishment like that of Nature: it is -connected with a Will, which is dimly felt by the child to be higher and -better than his own, yet constantly opposed to his own. Here then arises -a conflict between his strong animal impulses, _i.e._ “the flesh,” and a -weak nascent impulse of conscience, _i.e._ “the spirit;” the former -bidding him disobey the higher Will, the latter bidding him obey. Even -when he disobeys, the spirit has at least the power to make him uneasy -in his disobedience, and this uneasiness for the first time reveals in -him the nature of sin. Until the Law of the higher Will was thus placed -side by side with his own will, and until the deflections of his own -will from the higher Will were thus made manifest and rebuked by -conscience, the child had no notion of sin. Now he knows it: “by Law has -come the knowledge of sin.” - -As long as he is thus “under the Law” he cannot possibly be righteous; -he can neither be “justified” nor feel “justified.” When he is -disobedient under the Law, he is conscious of sin; but when he is -obedient under the Law, he is not conscious of peace or inward harmony: -the Law stands up, for ever antagonistic to his natural impulses, and he -cannot but dislike it, although he acknowledges its claims upon him: -consequently, even when he obeys it, he obeys it with a sense of -servitude, obeying in the fear of punishment or in the hope of reward. -Such actions as are performed in this spirit have no spontaneousness or -grace; they are the tasks of a hireling, mere piece-work—“works,” as St. -Paul more shortly calls them. or “the works of the Law;” and “by the -works of the Law shall no flesh be justified.” During this period he -finds no guidance from the spirit of loving obedience, but has to trust -in formularies and prescriptions, “do this,” “avoid that;” he fears lest -he may do too little, and grudges lest he may do too much: he is in the -condition, not of a son, but of a servant working for wages. Just as the -Stoic said of the man who was not “wise,” that whatever he did, even to -the moving of his little finger, was sure to be wrong, so St. Paul -taught—and it is the truth—that our every action, as long as we are -“under the Law,” is void of harmony, beauty, freedom, and spiritual -life: it is but obedience to a dead rule; such actions are of the nature -of sin and tend to spiritual destruction: “the wages of sin are death.” - -During this state the raw, half-developed, ungraceful, unharmonized, and -ever-erring boy of fifteen appears to have retrograded from the -perfectly graceful and unconscious selfishness of the innocent child of -four. But it is not so. The knowledge of sin is the stepping-stone to a -higher righteousness than could have been obtained by perpetuating the -innocence of childhood. Even during the period of the “bondage to the -Law” there were occasional intervals of freedom, prophetic of a higher -state. Duty, sometimes, shining out before the child as something purer -and nobler than a mere inevitable debt, appeared “sweet and -honourable;”[37] and wherever Duty thus revealed herself, the child, in -freely and ungrudgingly obeying her, was obeying no unworthy emblem of -the Father in heaven; and by such obedience his character was -strengthened and matured. But now the time has come for another step -upwards. The boy disobeys and is forgiven. At first, forgiveness makes -no impression on him. He does not understand it, does not believe in it, -because he does not quite believe in the author of it; he regards his -father as one too far above him to be able to sympathize entirely with -his boyish desires and impatience of restraint, too much like a Law to -be capable of feeling real pain at his faults. As long as he is in this -condition, forgiveness comes to him as the mere remission of penalty; he -is glad to “get off,” but his heart is not yet touched, and there is -therefore no real remission of sin, partly because he has no sufficient -sense of sin, partly because he has no faith in the forgiver. - -But at last comes the revelation of the meaning of forgiveness. Some -outward sign, a mother’s tear, the mere expression of the father’s -face—it may be this, or it may be something of much longer duration and -far more complex—but something at last brings home to him the fact that -his sin weighs like a crushing burden upon the heart of some one else, -who, in spite of his sin, still loves him and still trusts in him. His -parents, he finds—or it may be some brother, sister, or friend—are -bearing his sin and carrying his iniquity as if it were their own: the -shame and the pain of it, which he feels as a mere unpleasant -uneasiness, are causing to others an acute sorrow of which he had not -dreamed before. Instead of being savagely angry with him, furious at the -mischief he has done, and at the disgrace which he has brought upon -them, instead of visiting upon him all the consequences of his fault, -his parents are themselves suffering some part of it, themselves crushed -down by it: if they punish him, they are not punishing him vindictively -but for his good—it is hard indeed to believe this, but he believes it -at last—the chastisement of his peace falls upon them as well as upon -him; their heart is broken and contrite for his sake; their souls are a -sacrifice for his; they feel his sin as if it were their own; they have -appropriated his sin; have been identified with his sin; they are “made -sin” for him. - -Now if the youth has not in him the germ of faith or trust whereby he -can believe in the sincerity of these (to him) mysterious and at first -inexplicable feelings, why then the parental forgiveness is worse than -nothing to him. If he resists its influence and calls it cant or humbug, -it hardens instead of softening the boy’s heart; and then the little -spiritual sensitiveness that he once had, dies rapidly away. In this -case “from him that hath not there hath been ta’en away even that which -he seemed to have,” and the good-tidings or Gospel of forgiveness has -proved, in this case, “a savour of death unto death.” But if he has the -germ of faith to begin with, then the Gospel works its natural result: -“to him that hath there is added, and he hath more abundantly.” -“Proceeding from faith” the message of forgiveness tends “to the -increase of faith.”[38] Insensibly he finds himself raised up from his -former position to the level of those who have forgiven him; he is -identified with his forgivers in spirit, so that he now sees things as -they see them, and for the first time discerns the hatefulness of sin, -and hates it as they hate it, and longs to shake it off as a burden -alien to his nature. At the same time, finding himself trusted by those -in whose truth as well as goodness he himself places trust, he learns a -new self-respect even in the moment when he awakens to his past -degradation; he has (he feels it to be true) something within him that -may be trusted, some possibility of better things which at once springs -up into the reality of fulfilment under the warm breath of affectionate -and trustful forgiveness. In other words, righteousness is “imputed to -him,” and he becomes righteous. The gulf between the parental will and -himself is now bridged over by a kind of atonement. The relations which -he imagined and created for himself before between his parents and -himself, were angry justice on the one side, sullen obedience or open -disobedience on the other side: all this is now exchanged for an -entirely different relationship, love on both sides, kind control from -the one, willing, zealous obedience from the other, resulting in perfect -peace and in an atmosphere of mutual goodwill, happiness, joy, favour. -For this kind of “favour” we have no exact word in English, but in the -Greek Testament it is called by a word which we must translate “grace:” -the youth then is “no more under the law but under grace.” No longer now -is he a servant, performing “works;” a community of feeling unites him -with those above him, whom he had once regarded as hostile and despotic. -No longer the slave of rules and orders, no longer fearing punishment -nor drudging for reward, he is quickened by a spirit within him which -guides him naturally to do, and to anticipate, not only the bidding, but -even the unexpressed wishes, of that higher Will. His whole life is now -a service devoted to this new Master; yet he is not a servant, but free, -because he serves willingly in a service which is the noblest freedom. -The simplest actions are performed in a fresh spirit; all things have -become new: the life of the flesh is ended, the life of the spirit has -begun. Looking back upon his former self he finds that it is dead; he -has died unto sin and risen from the dead that he may live again to -righteousness. - -Is it necessary for me to trace the parallelism between these phenomena -in the life of the individual and the Pauline scheme of the redemption -of man? You must have recognized in each step of the development -sketched above some feature of the Pauline doctrine. My fear is, not so -much that you may fail to acknowledge this, as that you may doubt -whether the individual always passes through these phases. But I am -confident that it must be so for all who are to be saved: there is no -royal road of privilege or miracle by which a man can pass from the -innocent selfishness of childhood to the practised righteousness of -manhood, without passing through the narrow defiles of the flesh and -fighting his battle with sin; nor do I believe that any man, has ever -been “saved,” that is to say, has passed through that struggle so far -safely as to attain some thoughtfulness for others, some love of -righteousness for its own sake, unless he has received through the Word -of God some such revelation as I have described. - -The typical revelation of this kind, which sums up all others, is the -revelation made by the atonement of Jesus Christ: but that revelation -has been a silence for the myriads who have died in ignorance of the -very name of Jesus: is there no other way then in which the Word of God -has taught them, redeemed them, forgiven them, made atonement for them? -Yes, assuredly the Word of God has been mediating between God and men -since men first existed—long before the time when the children of Israel -“drank of that Rock which followed them, and that Rock was Christ”—and -the chief vehicle of His mediation has been the influence of the -righteous on the unrighteous, especially of parents on children. In this -influence, the bright and central point has been the power which each -man has, in some poor degree, of forgiving, and making atonement for, -the sins of others—a power so weak and small, compared with the same -power in Christ, that it may be easily ignored by superficial observers; -and some may think to do God honour by ignoring it. But in reality whoso -ignores it is ignoring the best gift of God to man. This undeveloped -power of forgiving has been that uneffaced likeness of God in which He -created us; and every act of forgiveness, from Adam down to John the -Baptist, has been inspired by the Word of God to be a type and prophecy -of that great and unique act which sums up and explains all forgiveness, -the Atonement made by the Word’s own sacrifice. I said above that the -mother’s tear might for the first time reveal to a child the meaning and -power of forgiveness. What the tear of a mother may be to her child, -that the Cross of Christ has been to mankind; the expression as it were, -of the Father’s pitifulness for His sinful children, revealing to them -the meaning, and the pain, of forgiveness. - -St. Paul (you will find) in all his epistles recognizes the analogy -between the human race and the individual; and all that he teaches about -mankind corresponds to the development I have tried to sketch above. You -will be told indeed that the attempt to trace such a parallelism as I -have traced above, is an attempt to “read modern thoughts into an -ancient author.” But do not be in haste to call St. Paul an “ancient -author,” not at least in any disparaging sense, as if we had outgrown -the antiquated limits of his thoughts. Being a man of realities St. Paul -dived deep down below the surface of language, cant, and formularies; he -reached the very source and centre of the human heart where -righteousness is made. He realized the making of righteousness as a -visible process. Others, who have not realized it, think his writings -misguided, antique, occasionally untrue. But do not you fail to -distinguish between St. Paul’s style and St. Paul’s thought. He wrote in -a hurry; he did not think in a hurry. The general scheme of his theology -needs no excuse, nor allowance, nor patronage. His illustrations of it, -arguments in defence of it, even his expressions of it, are, from our -point of view, often inadequate; but his spiritual truths are the -deepest truths of human nature, as it may be seen ascending through -illusion and frailty to divine knowledge and divine righteousness. St. -Paul has been wonderfully obscured by formularizing commentators. The -best commentary on him that I know is an ordinary home; but for a young -man, away from home, and in danger of forgetting his childhood, the next -best commentary is Shakespeare, and the next to that is Wordsworth, or, -from a different point of view, the _In Memoriam_. - -Tell me now; was I wrong in saying that the Pauline scheme of salvation -is eminently natural? I do not of course mean materialistic, but natural -in the sense of orderly. Where, in the whole of this doctrine, is there -any necessity for believing that the Son of God—“born of a woman” and -manifested “in the flesh that he might destroy the works of the -devil”—did or said anything that involves a suspension of the laws of -nature? I have already shewn that the “miracles” wrought by St. Paul -himself were in all probability works of healing, and natural; and the -manifestations in which Christ “appeared” to him and to the other -disciples have been shewn to be, in all probability, visions in -accordance with the laws of nature, though representing an objective -reality. There is no reference in St. Paul’s works to the Miraculous -Conception, nor to any of those miracles of Jesus which, if historical, -must be admitted to be real miracles. On the other hand there runs -through all his epistles an acknowledgment of a continuous spiritual -Law, predetermined and inviolable. What else does St. Paul mean by the -continual assertion that the calling of the Gentiles, and the “election” -of all men, are “predestined?” Perhaps you have never yet appreciated -the circumstances which led the Apostle to lay so much stress on the -“predestination” apparent in history. I do not think you can ever -understand St. Paul’s teaching on this subject, as long as you fasten -your attention on two or three isolated texts which appear to set it -forth. You must look at it as a whole, and have regard to the motive of -the author; and then you will find that it is to be understood -negatively rather than positively. When St. Paul says “God predestined -this, or that,” he means, “God did not make a mistake, or change his -mind, about this or that: _the gifts and calling of God are without -repentance_.” - -In setting forth Predestination, St. Paul is always mentally protesting -against two tendencies already perceptible to him in the Church, the -tendency of the Jews to regard the admission of the Gentiles into the -Church as an after-thought, perhaps as a mistake; and the tendency of -the Gentiles to regard the Law of Moses as a complete and useless -failure. It was one of St. Paul’s main objects to shew that the history -of Israel and of the Gentile world revealed a thread of immutable -purpose of salvation running through the whole—a purpose to subordinate -evil to good, the flesh to the spirit, the Law to the Gospel; so that -there has been no mistake, no dislocation of the divine scheme, nor -change of the divine will. Although the Apostle always refers things to -a Will and not a Law as their ultimate origin, yet the whole tenour of -his argument exhibits that Will as being not liable to caprice or -accidental shifting, but a Will of predestination, a Law, so to speak, -tinged with emotion. No doubt St. Paul, sometimes, in the attempt to -shew the immutability of the divine purposes, puts forward somewhat -baldly and repellently the insoluble problem of the origin of evil, as -if God Himself predestined not only rejection but also the sin that was -the cause of rejection. But it was not his intention to exhibit God as -originating evil; and the cause that leads him so to do, or so to appear -to do, is his intense desire to exhibit God’s mysterious plan of not at -once annihilating evil but of utilizing it and subordinating it to good. -The fore-ordained purpose of God before the foundation of the world is -the redemption of mankind; and in order to help men to attain to this -height, the flesh, the law, death, yes, even sin itself, are forced to -serve as stepping-stones. Hence even in rejection, as well as in -election, the Apostle cannot fail to discern the hand of God. There is a -Law in all God’s doing, and especially in His election. God hath chosen -the weak things of this world to confound the strong and the foolish -things of this world to confound the wise; the first-born is rejected, -the younger son is chosen. This is not accident; it is a type of the -general law exemplified in the vision of Elijah. Not by the whirlwind or -the fire or the earthquake but by the quiet and neglected processes of -nature does God perform His mightiest works. This deep truth pervades -the doctrine of St. Paul. Pierce through the antique and Oriental -integument of his expression, and you will find no other Christian -writer who so clearly brings out that the Christian religion is not -according to caprice but according to Law. - -Footnote 37: - - “Dulce et decorum _est pro patria mori_.” - -Footnote 38: - - Rom. i. 17. - - - - - XXVIII - OBJECTIONS - - -MY DEAR ——, - -You tell me that you have been shewing my letters to some of your young -friends, and that they have expressed various objections to -non-miraculous Christianity. Some say that I am an “optimist;” others -that it is a compromise between faith and reason, and that compromises -are always to be rejected; one says that I am for introducing “a new -religion;” others that a Gospel of illusion must, by its own shewing, be -itself illusive; others, that “these new notions are so vague that they -can never be put into a definite shape, and they are so mixed up with -theories and fancies and suppositions of error in every period of the -Church, that they can never commend themselves to the masses.” - -Do you know what “cant” means, and why it was so called? “Cant” is the -sort of language used (not always deceitfully) when a man “chants,” or -utters in a kind of sing-song, words that he has not felt himself, or, -if he has ever felt, has ceased to feel, through the too frequent use of -them. Hence he cannot speak them, but “sing-songs” them, “chants” or -“cants” them. Now I take leave to think that two or three of the -objections above-mentioned come under this head of “cant.” I mean that -your young objectors, not knowing exactly at the moment what to say -about opinions that are new and require some thought to understand or -criticise, and being desirous of saying something at the moment, and -something, if possible, that shall be brief and smart, say what they -have heard other people say about other sets of opinions which have some -affinity of sound with mine. This is a very common habit with inferior -professional reviewers, who are bound to say something readable and -epigrammatic for limited remuneration and consequently in limited time: -but your friends have not come to that yet, and are therefore not to be -so easily excused. - -“Optimist!” How can a man who believes in a real Satan be an optimist? I -thought an optimist was one who believed the world to be the best of all -possible worlds. This I do not, and cannot, believe. I trust indeed that -a time may come when we may be optimists after a fashion; when we shall -look back, in God, upon the universal sum of things and find that it has -been the best possible under the circumstances, and that evil has been -marvellously subordinated to good: but I never can believe that a -Universe in which God defeats Satan is better than a Universe in which -God reigns unresisted; and therefore, as to this “best of all possible -worlds,” I rest always humbly silent. Some people may believe, if they -can, that evil is another form of good; that the world is like one of -those spectroscopes—I think they call them—where several different -pictures on a round card, each meaningless by itself, are converted into -one significant picture by whirling the card round too quickly for the -eye to follow. In the same way they seem to suppose they can take little -pictures of oppression, adultery, murder, and the other myriad shapes of -sin, spin them round fast enough along with other little pictures of -temperance, purity, peace, and all the virtues; and the whole becomes a -panorama of moral perfection! Argue thus who will; I cannot. - -If I am not an optimist in my view of this world, you will surely not -accuse me of optimism in my views of the next. Do my notions of heaven -and hell encourage any one to be selfish and luxurious or idle now, in -the hope that he will be let off easily hereafter? Have I not said that -there will be no “letting off”? That God will do the best thing for -Nero—is that do you think likely to make Nero altogether an optimist in -the life to come? I think He will do the best thing for me; but I -sometimes shiver when I say it; awe possesses me, awe mingled with -trust, but certainly not without a touch of fear. Assuredly the -certainty of retribution in heaven makes me no optimist for myself or -others, as to the life after death. In one sense only am I an optimist, -that I believe that the best will ultimately prevail, and that faith, -hope, and love, will prove the dominant powers in the Universe. This I -believe, and to this belief I cling as a most precious hope, to be -cherished by action as well as by meditation; but this is not, I think, -what is ordinarily meant by optimism; and certainly it does not -encourage the spirit of _laissez faire_ which optimism is supposed to -breed. - -Next as to “compromise.” The ordinary cant about “compromise” is -sometimes the lazy expedient of those who wish to avoid the trouble of -coming to a decision, and to shelter their indolence under a noble -censoriousness. What they mean by “compromise” is any theory that -attributes results to more than one cause. It is generally very easy to -elaborate some extreme theory which shall explain almost everything by -some single cause, by Faith, for example, on the one side, or by Reason -on the other; and it is equally easy for the advocates on either side to -demolish the theory of their adversaries; but it is far from easy -afterwards to shew how, and to what extent, _both_ causes are -accountable for the result which has been fictitiously attributed to a -single cause. Now the two extreme parties, in their contests, afford us -fine cut-and-thrust exhibitions; the via media exhibits an organized -campaign. The theatrical multitude, which does not care in the least -about truth, but delights in intellectual slashers, soon finds it dull -work, after clapping an exciting _mêlée_, to have to sit still and -listen to a dispassionate and impartial discussion; so they cry -“compromise” and hiss. But the term is a misnomer. “Compromise,” or -“mutual promise,” cannot describe a legitimate conclusion that hits the -mark missed by two previously divergent shots. It is as if A were to hit -the top of the target, and B the bottom, and then both A and B were to -fall foul of C, and accuse him of “compromising”, because he pierces the -bull’s eye half way between the two. “Compromise” often implies a -failure of exact justice; as when Smith thinks Jones owes him 50_l._, -and Jones thinks he owes Smith only 40_l._; and they “split the -difference” and make it 45_l._; both of them thinking that the -arrangement is unjust, but both preferring the injustice to the -expensive formalities of legal justice. This is “compromise,” and -illogical; but there is none of this illogicality in a fair impartial -discussion avoiding previous bias. - -So in the present instance. Some have been biassed in favour of Faith, -others in favour of Reason; some have accepted as historical all the -miracles and mighty works in the Old and New Testament indiscriminately, -others have rejected all indiscriminately; some have declared that every -word in the Old and New Testament (I don’t quite know how they have got -rid of the difficulty of various readings) is exactly inspired and every -detail historically true; others, that there are so many errors and -illusions that the books may be put aside as no better than myths: some -have said that, since we cannot worship an unknown Being, we must -worship the human race; others that, since we cannot worship our very -degraded selves, we must worship some being altogether different from -ourselves: some have said that Christ is God, and have ignored His -humanity; others have said that He was a “mere man,” and therefore not -divine. Now in all these cases the truth lies between the two extremes. -Man derives religious truth from Faith, but Faith assisted by Reason; -Christ did not perform miracles, but He did perform mighty works; the -Old and New Testament, like all other vehicles of revelation, contain -illusion, but illusion preserving and protecting truth; we must not -worship ourselves, and yet we cannot worship one who is altogether -different from ourselves; Christ is a man, and yet Christ is God. But to -all these conclusions we are not led by “mutual promise,” give and take -of any kind, but by full and unbiassed consideration of all sides of the -subject, knowing that (for the present at all events) we shall displease -all, both the orthodox and heterodox alike. - -So far from suggesting any compromise between Faith and Reason, I have -merely pointed out that the provinces of the two are, to a very large -extent, distinct, so that many of their operations can be performed -altogether independently. I have never said, “Do not follow out the -conclusions of your Reason in this or that instance because you would be -led to inconvenient results,” but, “Follow out the conclusions of your -Reason in every instance and presently acknowledge that you are led, in -some cases, to results so absurd and unpractical that you must infer -Reason to be out of its province in these cases. Reason your utmost for -example about a First Cause and Predestination and the Origin of Evil -and the like; but then, when you have come to the conclusion that, -logically speaking, it is equally absurd to suppose that the world had -no cause, and that the First Cause had no cause, give the subject up as -being beyond the syllogistic powers.” Surely there is no unworthy -compromise here, nothing but common sense! Wherever historical facts are -affirmed in religion, I have said that the accounts of those facts are -to be judged upon evidence and by Reason alone; here Faith and Hope have -no place; history in the New Testament is to be judged like history in -Thucydides. - -In reality it is not I with my via media that am guilty of compromise; -it is the Hyper-orthodox (if I may use a term that is nominally -meaningless but really quite intelligible) and the Agnostic. For the -Hyper-orthodox say “Accept the Scriptures in a lump.” Why? “Because it -would be so very inconvenient not to have an infallible guide.” Of -course they do not say so in these precise words: but this is what their -replies ultimately amount to. Again the Agnostics say, “Reject the -Scriptures _in toto_.” Why? “Because it would be so very inconvenient to -weigh evidence and discriminate the true from the false.” It is these, -not I, who are calling in emotion to do the work of Reason, and who -(partly, I think, to avoid facing unpalatable facts) force Reason to -make a compromise with prejudice. “Convenience,” as I have pointed out -in a previous letter, may be a legitimate basis for accepting as a Law -of Nature the tried and tested suggestions of the Imagination; but it is -not a legitimate basis on which to construct a belief in the genuineness -of the Book of Daniel or the Second Epistle of St. Peter. - -Let me mention one point where, in appearance, but not in reality, my -theory is liable to the charge of compromise: I mean the discussion of -the Miraculous Conception and the Supernatural Incarnation. In -discussing the Miraculous Conception I have advised you to trust to your -Reason alone, because here you have to deal with a statement of physical -facts, true or untrue, and to be proved or disproved by evidence; but as -regards the Supernatural Incarnation and the statement that the Word of -God became a human spirit, I have pointed out that here we have a -statement that cannot be proved or disproved by simple historical -evidence, nor even by miracle, because even if an archangel descended -from heaven to trumpet forth a “Yes” or “No” to the world, the message -might be from the Devil. If then we are to believe in the Incarnation we -must have a twofold testimony. First must come the historical evidence -indicating the words, and deeds, and character, and results, of the life -of Christ, the truth of which must be judged by the Reason; and then -there must come the witness of the conscience exclaiming “This life is -divine; this man is one with God.” Consequently it is quite possible to -accept the Supernatural Incarnation while denying the Miraculous -Conception; and this I have felt obliged to do. But where is the -compromise or inconsistency? I am compelled by evidence and Reason to -deny the truth of the Miraculous Conception, on account of the very -small amount of evidence for it and the very large amount of evidence -against it; I am equally compelled by evidence and Faith to accept the -Supernatural Incarnation, because the evidence convinces me that a -certain life has been lived on earth, and my conscience convinces me -that this life could not have been lived by any being who was not one -with God. - -Are my accusers equally free from confusion? I think not. Ask the -Hyper-orthodox why they believe in the Miraculous Conception in spite of -the silence of all the earliest documents; they will reply, (if you -penetrate below their first superficial answers, such as, “Because it is -in the Bible,” “Because I have believed it from my youth upward,” and -the like), “Jesus must have been born miraculously, because He was the -Son of God”—a confusion of things historical and spiritual, and a -manifest expulsion of Reason from her rightful province. Again, ask the -Agnostic why he does not believe that Jesus was the Son of God; he will -reply that he sees no proof of the fact, nor even of the existence of a -God; and if you press him to define what he means by “proof” of the -existence of a God, you will find that he wholly ignores the influence -of Imagination as a means of arriving at truth, and that he requires -some kind of evidence that shall entirely dispense with Faith. Thus the -Hyper-orthodox and the Agnostic are equally guilty, the one of -dispossessing Reason, the other of dispossessing Faith, from their -rightful provinces; and they accuse me of “compromising,” not because I -really compromise, but because I pursue truth at the cost of some -trouble, while they—partly perhaps to avoid the pain of thinking, and -the prospect of colliding with hard unpleasing truths—pursue severally -that form of untruth to which they are inclined by prejudice. - -And now for the next objection, that “this is a new religion.” How can -men give the name of a new religion to that which proclaims as the one -means of salvation the Eternal Word of God believed in of old by Jews as -well as by Christians? Or is it a mark of novelty to accept Jesus of -Nazareth as that Word incarnate? The one thing new about the opinions -put forward in my letters is this—that it is not a necessary condition -for believing in Christ, that men should accept a number of historical -statements which are, and have been, doubted by many honest seekers -after truth. I believe I might add, without any exaggeration, that the -statements which I impugn are rejected by so large a number of those who -are most competent to judge, that, in spite of many inducements—some -richly substantial, some nobly spiritual—many of the ablest and best -educated young men of England cannot in these days be persuaded to -become ministers of the religion which appears to insist on them. Beyond -this protest, there is nothing, or very little, that is new about the -theory which I have endeavoured to set forth. I do not protest against -any moral abuse in the Church of England or the orthodox churches—such -abuses as made a great gulf in the days of Luther between the Roman -Catholic Church and the Protestants, when indulgences for sins were sold -by the cart-load. Possibly indeed the protracted belief in the -miraculous, when it has long outlived the conditions which made it -natural or pardonable, may tend to produce some moral evil; some -over-estimation of ostentatious and, so to speak, theatrical force; some -depreciation of the quiet processes by which God has mostly taught and -shaped mankind; some latent trust in a capricious God, who will not -“reward men according to their works” but will exercise a dispensing -power at the Day of Judgment. I say this may possibly soon happen, if it -has not already begun to happen; but at all events it is at present -latent, and it is not on any ground of this kind that I am advocating a -new view of the Old and New Testament. My object has been not to destroy -the old belief, but to remove certain obstacles which tend to prevent -people from embracing the essence of the old belief. The existence of a -God, the immortality of the soul, the conflict between God and Satan, -the redemption of mankind through the sacrifice of the eternal Son of -God incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth, the Resurrection of the Lord Jesus, -the operation of the Holy Spirit, the certainty of a heaven and hell, -the efficacy of prayer, the ultimate triumph of goodness and God— all -these things I steadfastly believe. But I see not the slightest reason -why, in order to hold fast these precious truths, I should be compelled -to believe that Joshua stopped the sun (or the earth?) or that an ass -talked with a human voice, or that the incarnate Son of God drowned two -thousand swine or destroyed a fig-tree with a word. - -I am probably doing no more than give utterance to thoughts which have -been already expressed by others, or which, though unexpressed, are -latent in thousands of doubtful and expectant souls. But even were it -otherwise, even were it granted that the form of Christianity set forth -in my letters has some points of novelty, is mere novelty to suffice for -its condemnation?—and this in our century, when God has been teaching -and is teaching His children so much that is new in every department of -knowledge! Is it absolutely incredible that the same Supreme Teacher who -allowed some nineteen centuries to elapse between the Promise and the -promised Seed, should allow another nineteen centuries to elapse between -the Seed and the Harvest? Is it inconsistent that He who has led men to -the truths of science through mistakes and illusions should lead men by -the same paths to spiritual truth? How often must the Law of Illusion be -inculcated before we take it to heart? Illusions have encompassed -spiritual truth for Israel, for the Jews, for the Twelve in their -Master’s lifetime, for the first generation of Christians, and for every -subsequent generation down to the time of Luther. So much we Protestants -are bound to admit. Are we not then intolerably presumptuous in assuming -that illusions must have suddenly disappeared in the fifteenth century -and have left the theological atmosphere for the first time since the -creation of the world free from all spiritual refraction? How much -humbler and truer to suppose that every century and every generation has -its special cloud of illusions through which in due course we must all -toil upward, penetrating layer after layer of the illusive mist till we -reach at last the summit of the hill of Truth! - -I find I have left myself too little time to answer your last two -objections as to the “vagueness” of my views and their inability to -“commend themselves to the masses.” I will try to answer them in my next -letter. - - - - - XXIX - THE RELIGION OF THE MASSES - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I have been thinking over your objection that my notions are “vague;” -feeling that there is some truth in it, but that your words do not quite -express your probable meaning. I think you mean, not that the “notions” -are vague, but that the proofs are vague. The “notions” are in the -Creeds, if you interpret the Creeds spiritually: and I do not think that -the Creeds are more “vague” when interpreted spiritually than when -interpreted literally. The spiritual Resurrection of Christ, for -example—is it more vague than the material Resurrection? If you admit -that there is a spirit in man, and that this spirit is made apparently -powerless by death, is it “vague” to say that the spirit of Jesus, after -passing through this state of death, manifested itself to the disciples -in greater power than ever? Even those who maintain the material -Resurrection admit that it would be a mere mockery without the spiritual -Resurrection, and that the latter is the essence of the act: so that to -declare the statement of the spiritual Resurrection of Jesus to be -“vague,” appears to be equivalent to declaring that _any_ statement of -the _essential_ Resurrection of Jesus is “vague.” Again, redemption from -sin is a spiritual notion, redemption from the flames of a material hell -is a material notion; but is the former more “vague” than the latter? If -so, then we are led to this conclusion, that all spiritual notions are -more vague than material notions; and the vagueness which you censure is -a necessary characteristic of every religion that approaches God as He -ought to be approached, I mean, as a Spirit and through the medium of -spiritual conceptions. But to my mind you are not justified in thus -using the word “vague,” which ought rather to be applied to notions -wanderingly and shiftingly defined; as for example, if I defined the -Resurrection of Jesus as being at one time the rising of His body, at -another the rising of His Spirit; or if I spoke of redemption, now as -deliverance from sin, and now as deliverance from punishment. Convict me -of such inconsistencies, and I will submit to be called “vague;” but at -present I plead, “Not guilty.” - -However I think you meant that the proofs, and not the notions were -vague; and here, although you should not have used the word “vague,” I -will admit that you would have been right if you had said that they were -“complex” and “more easy to feel than to define.” No doubt the proof of -Christ’s divinity from the material Resurrection is simple and -straightforward enough: “It is impossible that a man’s body could have -arisen from the grave, and that the man could have afterwards lived with -his friends on earth for several days, and then have ascended into -heaven, if he had not been under the express protection of God; and such -a man we are prepared to believe, if he tells us that he is the Son of -God.” That certainly would seem to a large number of minds a very plain -and straightforward argument—as plain as Paley’s _Evidences_. No trust, -no faith, no affection, is here requisite: nothing is needed except that -rough and ready assumption—in which we are all disposed to -acquiesce—that any altogether exceptional and startling power must come -from God. It must be admitted that this sort of proof would be cogent as -well as direct. Let a man rise from the dead to-morrow, and transport -his body through closed doors, and say that he is Christ, and then mount -up to the clouds and disappear; and I doubt not many of those who saw -him would cry “This must be the Christ,” without so much as enquiring -what manner of man he was. But cogent and popular and delightfully -simple though it may be, this is not the kind of proof on which Jesus -appears to have relied, or by which Jesus has produced a spiritual -change in the hearts of mankind. The very fact that no trust or faith or -affection is needed in such a demonstration, unfits it for spiritual -purposes. In order to believe in the Resurrection of Jesus, a man needs -the testimony of all his powers, emotional as well as intellectual, -trust and love as well as reason; and I have endeavoured to shew above -that the whole of the training of the human Imagination, and all the -mysterious natural provisions which have stimulated the eye of the mind -to see what the eye of the body cannot see, have contributed to bring -about the faith in the risen Saviour. As we are to love God with our -strength and with our mind as well as with our heart and our soul, so -are we to believe in Christ with the same collective energy. The proof -therefore of Christ’s Resurrection and of Christ’s divinity is intended -to be, in a certain sense, complex, because it is intended to appeal to -our every faculty and to be based upon our every experience. - -But “this form of Christianity can never commend itself to the masses.” -Objection in the shape of prophecy is always difficult to meet, and not -often worth meeting. However, this prophecy has so specious a sound that -it deserves some reply. But first let me ask, Does the present form of -Christianity commend itself to the masses? Surely not to the very poor, -that is to say, not to the class to whom Christ appears to have -specially addressed Himself. And even among the classes which retain the -tradition of worshipping Christ, has Christianity been such as would -commend itself to Christ? Has not our religion been too often divorced -from morality? Has there been dominant among us that habit of mutual -helpfulness—“comforting one another,” as St. Paul calls it—which is the -criterion of a truly Christian nation? Have not the laws in almost all -cases, until the French Revolution, been made in the interests of the -rich, rather than in the interests of the poor; and where the poor have -been considered, has not the consideration arisen largely from the fear -of violence and revolution? There has been a certain amount of -alms-giving, or legacy-leaving, on the part of the minority who have -laid themselves out to lead religious lives; and there has always been a -still more select minority who have been imbued with a truly Christian -enthusiasm for their fellow-creatures, a passionate desire to do -something for Christ, and to leave the world a little better for their -having lived: but the great unheeding mass of men in Christian countries -has rolled on in its selfish path, less selfish certainly, less -brutishly intent on present pleasure than the masses of heathendom, and -indirectly humanized and leavened by a thousand Christian influences, -but still not more than superficially Christian. The reason for this -comparative failure has been, in part, that Christ has not been rightly -presented to the hearts of the people. Too often it has not been Christ -at all—it has been but a lifeless semblance of Christianity—to which -they have given their adhesion. The fear of hell, the hope of -heaven—these have been often the chief motives of religion; and -alms-giving, church-going, Bible-reading, and the use of the sacraments, -have been the means by which men have thought they could escape the one -and secure the other. Asking still further the cause for this -perversion, by which Christ has been converted into a second Law, we -find that in some cases and more especially in recent times, it appears -to have arisen in part from the miraculous element in our religion. This -has made Christ unreal to some of us by taking Him out of the reach of -our sympathies and affection; this also has artificialized our religious -conceptions and divorced our religion from morality by making us think -that God will suspend the laws of spiritual nature for us, as He has -suspended the laws of material nature for Christ and Christ’s Apostles. -Hence has arisen too often a pitiable and preposterous reversal of the -Pauline theology. We have “died” unto Christ, and “risen again” unto the -Law. “Grace” has fled away, and, with it, all natural and harmonious -morality; and the whole duty of a Christian man has been degraded to a -routine of “works.” - -It is for this cause that the morality of Agnostics frequently surpasses -the morality of professing Christians. The philanthropy of the former, -so far as it goes, is at all events perfectly natural. They do not love -their brother man in order to obey the Gospel or save their own souls; -they love because they must love. Christ’s heaven is often in their -hearts without any of the corruptions of a conventional Christianity. -They do not believe in a capricious Heaven and Hell, but they are drawn -towards goodness, kindness, justice and mutual helpfulness, whenever and -wherever they see them; and such worship as they have, they give to -these qualities. Hence also in foreign politics the working people and -the Agnostics often manifest a much purer and more Christian feeling -than church-goers. For the Hyper-orthodox, foreign politics lie outside -the Bible; and whatsoever lies outside the Bible lies, for them, outside -morality: but the Agnostic makes no such distinction; he does not -believe that the laws of right and wrong can be miraculously suspended -in favour of his own country. The disbelief in a future Heaven makes the -poor indisposed to tolerate present remediable miseries in the hope of -coming compensation. Hence they shew a much stronger determination not -to put up with a state of things in which the happiness and prosperity -of a whole nation are purchased by the misery of one class. They are -willing enough individually to make sacrifices for one another, and, in -bad times the working people have sometimes collectively borne -considerable burdens with an admirable patience; but that the unwilling -wretchedness of some should form the basis of the prosperity of the -rest, and that the rest should be content to have it so—this they cannot -endure; and sooner than this, they would prefer to see every class in -the nation pulled down two or three degrees in wealth and refinement, if -thereby the lowest class could be raised a single degree. - -Rich church-goers are far more ready to acquiesce in present -inequalities, sometimes consoling themselves with the thought that in -heaven all these evils will be redressed, sometimes fortifying their -acquiescence in the inevitable with a text of Scripture. But the poor -declaim passionately against the Bible, when thus quoted—as being a mere -instrument in the hands of the rich, and the priests their accomplices, -to keep the miserable in a state of contentment with their misery. It is -a pity that the poor should be embittered by misrepresentations against -that which is pre-eminently the poor man’s Book; for no tribune or -democrat more persistently than the Bible takes the side of the -oppressed, or more emphatically declares that it is part of God’s method -to raise up the poor from the dung-hill and to fill the hungry with good -things, while He casts down the princes and sends the rich empty away. -But the fact remains that, even when he raves against his own Book, the -poor man is raving in the spirit of the Book. It is not in accordance -with the Bible—and still less in accordance with the spirit of the New -Testament and of Christ—that any nation should tolerate and perpetuate -the misery of a class in order that the whole nation may prosper. Indeed -in such a nation permanent prosperity—in any sense, and much more in the -Christian sense—is quite impossible. Even though they may suppress -rebellion and escape revolution for the time, the governing classes -cannot escape the spiritual evils that must ultimately spring from that -comfortable acquiescence in the wretchedness of others to which they may -give the name of resignation but to which Christ would have given the -name of hypocrisy. Material misery _may_ imply the immorality of those -who are forced to endure it; but it _must_ imply the immorality and -spiritual degradation of those who acquiesce in it because it does not -come nigh them, and because “the Bible says it must be so.” Let but such -Pharisaism continue for a generation, and it will have gone far to -extinguish the purest of religions and to prepare the way for -revolutionary strife. - -It appears then that what is called “socialism” is really nothing but a -narrow and unwise form of Christianity; narrow because it excludes the -rich from its sympathies, and unwise because, instead of going to the -root of evils, it simply aims at the branches; capable also, of course, -(like every other theory) of being made to appear immoral, when adopted -for self-interested or vindictive purposes—yet nevertheless containing -much more of the Spirit of Christ than that selfish form of Christianity -which has for its sole object the salvation of the individual. Socialism -owes all that is good in it to Christ. - -The gigantic evil of slavery (which is antagonistic to all true -socialism) after a contest of eighteen centuries, has succumbed at last -in Christian countries to Christ’s Spirit and to no other champion. Do -you suppose that it perished owing to the “march of intellect,” or the -discoveries of science, or the general refinement and rise in the -standard of comfort and happiness among mankind? There is no reason at -all for thinking so. The Law of Moses, as you know, recognized, though -it controlled and mitigated, the institution of slavery. The race that -gave birth to Socrates, Aristotle, Sophocles, Phidias, Euclid, -Archimedes, and Ptolemy, was unable so much as to conceive of a state of -society where slavery should not exist: civilization appeared to them to -require the servitude of the masses as its necessary foundation. It was -not cruelty or callousness that prompted Aristotle to divide “tools” -into two classes, “lifeless” and “living”—under which latter head came -slaves: it was want of faith in human nature. “Who would do the -scullion-work in the great household of humanity if there were no -slaves?” Such was the question which perplexed the great philosophers of -antiquity and which Christ came to answer by making Himself the slave of -mankind and classing Himself among the scullions. How strangely dull and -unappreciative do those words of Renan sound, that, if you deduct from -what Christ taught, what other people have taught before Him, little -will be left that is original! “Taught!” It was not the teaching, it was -the doing. Nay, it was not the doing, it was the in-breathing into -mankind of a new Spirit, by means of doing, that ultimately destroyed -slavery. “Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto but to -minister and to give his life a ransom for many”—the Spirit that -dictated these words, dictated also the death upon the Cross; and this -Spirit has destroyed slavery and will establish true socialism upon -earth. - -“But this Spirit of Christ has never been fully obeyed or even -understood by His followers: even St. Paul does not seem to have -understood that Christianity was incompatible with slavery.” You are -quite right. The Spirit of Christ has never yet been fully obeyed, and, -when we thus obey it, life will be heaven. Do you not see that your -objection ignores the fact that we are not yet in heaven, and that -Christianity is to be a gradual growth? Are you not a little like the -child who sows his mustard-seed at night and comes down next morning -expecting to see the great tree in which the birds of the air ought to -have built their nests? The important question is whether the Christian -Spirit so far as it has been obeyed, has worked well; so that we may -trust it to lead us still further forward into practical ameliorations -of our existence, whether individual or national. But to expect it to do -everything in eighteen hundred years, is to forget all the teaching of -history, astronomy, and geology, three voices that unite in proclaiming -that the Hand of God works slowly. - -And further, as to your objection that even St. Paul did not realize the -incompatibility between Christianity and slavery, what follows from -that? Nothing I suppose except a confirmation of the words in the Fourth -Gospel, that the followers of Christ must not depend entirely upon St. -Paul, but upon that Spirit which shall “guide us into all truth.” To my -mind it is refreshing and delightful to confess—as I am sure St. Paul -himself would have been the first to confess—that he had not fully -realized all the consequences to which the Spirit of Christ would lead -posterity. I believe that St. Paul wished slaves to take every lawful -opportunity of becoming free, but that he would by no means have -encouraged slaves to run away or to rise violently against their -masters. If he had encouraged them, and if he had universally succeeded, -he would have caused the whole Empire, all civilized society, to -collapse at once. Was he wrong in not causing this? I am not prepared to -say so. I think he shewed more statesmanlike and Christian intuition in -doing nothing of the kind. But he did much. He had no slaves of his own, -you may be sure; he worked like a slave all night, that he might preach -all day; he bore fetters like a slave, and was proud to call himself a -slave for the sake of Christ; he inveighed against the spirit of -slavery, declaring that in Christ “there is neither bond nor free;” and -on the only occasion that we know of, when he had to mediate in a -practical way between an angry master and a runaway slave, he sent the -man back to his master without conditions or stipulations, but with a -letter that was equivalent to an emancipation: “For perhaps he was -therefore parted from thee for a season that thou shouldest have him for -ever; no longer as a slave, but more than a slave, a brother beloved, -specially to me, but how much rather to thee, both in the flesh and in -the Lord. If then thou countest me a partner, receive him as myself.” -Was not this, practically and morally, more efficacious than if the -Apostle had fulminated against the master Philemon fiery utterances -about the rights of man and the incompatibility between Christianity and -slavery? Was not Onesimus more sure of being emancipated by the quiet -apostolic method? Was not Philemon likely to feel a quickened sense of -new and higher duty when the Spirit of Christ was breathed into his -heart by these touching and affectionate words, than if a Pauline edict -had confronted him with a “Thou shalt” and “Thou shalt not”? St. Paul’s -method has been the method of the Spirit of Christ: for eighteen -centuries Christ has been saying to men, not “All slavery is unlawful,” -but to each master about each individual slave, “If then thou countest -Me a partner, receive him as Myself.” Hence by degrees has been shaped a -conviction that slavery in itself is against the will of God. - -But the destruction of slavery has not destroyed other problems of life -which still await their solution from Christian socialism. When men -cease to work from the compulsion of a master, they either give up -working, or they work for some other motive—their own subsistence, or -their own comfort, luxury, avarice, ambition, the mere pleasure and -interest of work, or for the sake of others. Are people to give up -working? And, if they work, which of these motives is to take the place -of the old bestial coercion which prevailed in the days of slavery? -These are the great questions of the present, affecting the happiness, -morality, and religion of the whole human race. True Christians and true -socialists are here at one. “If a man will not work, neither let him -eat” is their answer to the first question; and the more we can combine -to make the drone feel that he is out of place in the hive, and that he -must either conform to the hive’s ways or betake himself elsewhither, -the better will it be morally, and therefore ultimately better in all -respects, for the inhabitants of the hive. As to the second question, -socialists and moralists agree that each must work for the sake of -others, and, as far as possible, for all. To my mind, therefore, one of -the most hopeful signs of the times is to be discerned in the spread of -the higher socialist spirit which protests against making competition -the basis of national prosperity. Disguise it as you may, competition -contains an ugly element which was clearly brought out by its first -eulogist, the practical agricultural Hesiod, who tells us that there are -two kinds of strife, namely, war and competition. The latter, he says, -is good; for it rouses even the sluggard to action, when he sees his -neighbour hastening to wealth: - - “—this strife is good for mortals, - And potter _envieth_ potter and carpenter carpenter.” - -This is the plain truth. Competition is always in danger of producing -“envy,” and, when it is carried consistently to its extreme—as where a -large manufacturer undersells and ruins small manufacturers that he may -secure a monopoly—it verges on that other kind of strife which Hesiod -has himself described as “blameful;” it becomes a kind of war, and is -manifestly unchristian. Christianity might have been therefore expected -to protest against it; but it has not done so: that task has been -reserved for the informal kind of Christianity called socialism. But -very much more than protest is needed. The problem of competition and -how to dispense with it—or how to restrain it while remedying its -evils—is far more complex than that of slavery. Some people regard it as -an inherent law of human society, a natural and continuous development -of the law of the struggle for existence which we have inherited from -our remotest ancestry. Others, while admitting this primæval origin, -hope that, as progressive man has worked out from his nature much else -of the baser element, so he may in time eliminate this also. But, if any -success is to be attained, all sorts of experiments will have to be -tried; all sorts of failures will have to be encountered; and it may be -that in the end the Pauline method of dealing with slavery may be found -the best means of dealing with competition—not so much protesting and -fulminating, but the earnest, informal action of individual enthusiasm. -Action like St. Paul’s may prepare the way for legislation; but, without -change of temper, mere legislation cannot permanently help a people to -deal with a great social difficulty. - -In the solution of the complicated problems presented by competition, -socialism, when severed from Christianity, labours (1885) under most -serious disadvantages. Ignoring Christ, it reads amiss the whole of the -history of the past and is in danger of making terrible mistakes in the -future. Even where it avoids revolutionary extravagances, it is tempted -to trust far too much to force, moral if not physical coercion, -legislative enactments, and other shapes of what St. Paul would call -“Law.” Looking up to no Leader in heaven, it does not feel sufficiently -sure of ultimate success. “He that believeth,” says the prophet, “shall -not make haste:” now socialism has no firm basis of belief and therefore -is disposed to “make haste,” not always the haste of energy, sometimes -the spasmodic haste of self-distrust and error, followed perhaps by -dejection or inaction. Its neglect of the true religion leads it into -political as well as religious mistakes. Taking too little account of -sentiments, imaginations, and associations, it aims at a merely material -prosperity which, if attained, would leave the minds of men still vacant -and craving more; and besides, it proceeds by methods which excite alarm -and distrust in many well-wishers. The most serious evil of all is that -the leaders of the socialist movement, if they themselves see no Leader -above them, are actuated by no sense of loyalty and affection such as -Christians should feel for Christ, and consequently are far more exposed -to the dangers arising from their own individual weaknesses and -shortcomings. Their mainspring of action is a passionate enthusiasm for -poor toiling humanity: but how if humanity shews itself to them at times -in its basest aspects, ungrateful, suspicious, mean and shabby, timorous -and traitorous, quite unworthy of their devotion? Are they to serve such -a god as this? And it is a perishable god too; for must not all things -perish, and the earth itself become ultimately as vacant as the moon? -For so vile a master as this, then, are they to endure to be humiliated -and attacked by the rich and powerful, envied and slandered by rival -leaders, occasionally suspected even by the very poor to whom they are -giving their lives? In moments of depression, when thoughts like these -occur—as occur they must—it is hard indeed for a leaderless leader of -men to refrain from flinging up his task, or from continuing to pursue -it out of mere shame of inconsistency, or mere love of occupation, -excitement, and power. When that change comes over the tribune of the -poor, all is over with him. His work is done, though he may have done -nothing. Outwardly such a man’s conduct may be little changed, but -inwardly his spirit is dead within him. His religion—for it was a -religion to him—is now dead; and sooner or later his changed influence -must make itself felt in an infection of deadness spreading through the -whole of the multitudes whom he once inspired. - -It is for these reasons that I look to a simpler form of Christianity as -the future religion of the masses; first because I see that the most -active religious forces of the present day are already unconsciously -following on the lines traced by Christ’s spirit; and secondly, because -these movements already exhibit a deficiency which the worship of Christ -alone can fill up. - -The worship of Christ as the type and King of men helps to solve the -problems of the individual as well as those of the nation. As long as -human nature is what it is, as long as friends and families are parted -by death, as long as the mind is liable to be weighed down by -depression, and the body to be racked by physical pain, so long will -there be hours when we shall all look upward and demand some other -consolation than the commonplace; “These misfortunes are common to all.” -Stripped of all myth and miracle, the life and death and triumph of -Christ convey to the simplest heart the simplest answer that can be -given to the irrepressible question, “Whence comes this misery?” From -the cross of Christ there is sent back to each of us this answer, “We -know not fully; but our Leader bore it, and good came of it in the end.” -And when we stand at the brink of the grave and ask, “What is death?” -again the answer comes back from the same source, “We know not fully; -but He passed through it and He still lives and reigns.” - -But besides the powerful influence of religion in the critical and -exceptional moments of our lives, the influence of Christ would come -full of strength and blessing to the working men of England even if they -acknowledged Him, at first, in the most inarticulate of creeds, as the -man whom they admired most: “We used to think that Christ was a fiction -of the priests; at all events not a man like us in any way; a different -sort of being altogether; one who could do what he liked—so people -said—and turn the world upside down if he pleased: and then we could not -make him out at all. Why, thought we, did he not turn the world upside -down and make it better, if he could? It was all a mystery to us. But -now we find he was a man after all, like us; a poor working man, who had -a heart for the poor, and wanted to turn the world upside down, but -could not do it at once; and he went a strange way, and a long way -round, to do it; but he has come nearer doing it, spite of his enemies, -than any man we know; and now that we understand this, we say—though we -don’t understand it all or anything like it—‘He is the man for us.’” I -say that even if this rudimentary feeling of gratitude and admiration -for their great Leader could possess the hearts of English working -men—and this is surely not too much to expect—much would come from even -this inadequate worship. And, for myself, I unhesitatingly declare that -I would sooner be in the position of a working man who doubts about -Heaven and Hell and even about God, but can say of Christ, “He is the -man for me,” than I would be in the position of the well-to-do -manufacturer who is persuaded of the reality of Heaven and Hell and of -the truth of all the theology of the Church of England, but can -reconcile his religion with the deliberate establishment of a colossal -fortune on the ruin of his fellow creatures. - -But I do not believe that the feeling of the working man for Jesus of -Nazareth could long confine itself to admiration. It is not so easy to -make a happy nation or a happy world as the working man thinks: and this -he will soon find out. When sanitation, education, culture, science, -political rearrangements, enlargements for the poor, and restrictions -for the rich, have all done their best and failed—as they necessarily -must fail, unless helped by something more—then the working man will -find what that “something more” is, without which nothing effectual can -be done. Then he will perceive that, after all, unless there is a spirit -of mutual concession in classes and individuals, no Acts of Parliament -can ever be devised to secure lasting prosperity and concord. Then he -will awaken to the fact that Jesus of Nazareth revealed and exemplified -that spirit of concession or self-sacrifice, and that it was by this -means that He went as far as He did toward “turning the world upside -down;” and so he will be gradually led still further to see that the way -which He went was after all not such a very “long way round,” but a -divine way, a way truly worthy of the Son of God. I believe that the -recognition of this single fact would go further than even the -recognition of the marvellous phenomena which manifested the -Resurrection of Christ, to convince working men that the man who -possessed this sublime intuition into spiritual truth, and the perfect -unselfishness and self-control needful to give effect to his plans for -the raising up of mankind, must be no other than the Son of God. The -rest would follow. They would find they had been all their lives on a -wrong track in their search after the divine reality; worshipping brute -force while protesting against it; bowing in their hearts to pomp, and -wealth, and high birth, even while they professed to deride them; -despising things familiar and near; gaping in stupid servile admiration -at things far and unknown; yet all the time God was near them, among -them, in them; the Spirit of God was none other than the spirit of true -socialism; the Son of God was none other than the poor and lowly Workman -of Nazareth. - - - - - APPENDIX - - - - - XXX - MINISTERIAL TESTS - - -MY DEAR——, - -Excuse my delay in answering your letter of last month. The fact is I -have not so much leisure as I had. I was glad indeed to hear from you -(last Christmas, I think) that you could not so lightly put away the -worship and service of Christ as you had felt disposed, or compelled to -do, some eighteen months before; that the question appeared to you now a -deeper one than you had then supposed, not to be decided by mere -historical evidence but, to some extent, by the experience of life; and -that you were inclined at least so far to take my advice as to wait a -while, to stand in the old ways, and to adhere—so far as you honestly -could—to old religious habits, including the habit of prayer and -attendance at public worship. This was as much as I could reasonably -hope. I could not expect that a few letters from one who is quite -conscious that he does not possess the strange and sometimes -instantaneous influence exerted by a strong religious character, would -do all that will, I trust, be done for you by patience, by a prayerful -and laborious life devoted to good objects, and by cherishing habits of -reverence for the good, and of thoughtfulness for all. I had been in the -habit of regularly giving my Sundays, and occasionally some hours on -week days, to our theological correspondence: but when I received that -announcement from you, I felt that my time might now be devoted to other -objects, and I made arrangements accordingly. Hence, when your recent -letter reached me, I was not quite at leisure to reply to it -immediately. But you pressed me to answer “one last question,” which I -should rather call two questions (for they are quite distinct, although -you combine them so closely as to leave me uncertain whether you -recognize the wide difference between them): “Can a man who rejects the -miraculous element in the Bible remain a member or a minister in the -Church of England?” - -Your first question I should answer with an unhesitating affirmative. -The Church of England does not require from its lay members any -signature of the Articles or any test but a profession of belief in the -Creed at the time of baptism, renewed in the Catechism and Confirmation -service; and I cannot think that any sincere worshipper of Christ ought -so far to take offence at one or two expressions in the Creed—which may -be interpreted by him metaphorically, though by others literally—as to -separate himself on that account from the national church. Grant that -his interpretation may be a little strained, nay, grant even that he is -obliged to say “I cannot believe this;” yet I should doubt the -necessity, or even wisdom and rightness, of cutting himself off from the -Church of England because of one or two clauses in the Creed, as long as -he feels himself in general harmony with the Church doctrine and -services. There would be no end to schisms, and no possibility of -combining for worship, if every one separated himself from every -congregational utterance with which he could not heartily agree in every -particular. On this point I find myself obliged to remember for my own -sake, and to apply to myself, the advice I once gave a very little child -many years ago. We were singing a hymn, and had come to the words: - - “Ah me, ah me, that I - In Kedar’s tents here stay: - No place like that on high, - Lord, thither guide my way.” - -“I suppose,” said the child (who was young but somewhat old-fashioned in -thought and expression), “that these words mean that you want to die, if -they mean anything. But I don’t want to die. So I don’t think I ought to -say them.” In my own mind I sympathized very much with the objector; but -I endeavoured to meet the objection. “Hymns,” I said, “are written not -for single persons but for congregations. In a whole churchful you will -find all sorts of people of different ages and ways of thinking. Some -are glad and strong, others sad and weak. Some rejoice in life and look -forward eagerly to labour. These are mostly the young; but the older -sort are sometimes tired of life and longing for rest. Now when we are -singing a hymn we must all do our best, young and old, happy and sad, to -enter into one another’s feelings, and we must not expect that every -word in every hymn will precisely represent our own particular feelings -at the moment: the time will perhaps come when the words that now seem -meaningless to us will exactly represent our deepest feelings, and we -shall wonder how we could have ever failed to feel them; but for the -present we must not be disposed always to be asking, ‘Do I agree with -this? Do I exactly feel that?’ Of course if it occurs to you that these -or those words are so opposite to what you think, that you would be -telling a lie to God in uttering them, why then you must not utter them: -but you ought not to suppose that in a church service God exacts from -you a rigid account for every word of the congregational utterances in -which you take part: if you can heartily join in the greater part of the -service, do not be afraid; He accepts your prayers and praises.” Many -years have passed away since I spoke thus: and, since then, I have found -myself often obliged to repeat to myself, for my own guidance, the -advice which I then gave to guide another. In a public service one must -give and take, and I see no reason at all why a believer in -non-miraculous Christianity should not find himself in harmony with the -services of the Church of England. His interpretation both of the Bible -and of the Prayer-book will be different from that of most of the -congregation; but he will accept both the Bible and the Prayer-book as -the best books that could be used for their several purposes, and would -be sorry to see them replaced by anything that could be devised by -himself or by those who think as he does. - -So far I can speak confidently; but I am more doubtful as to the answer -that should be given to your second question, “Can a believer in -non-miraculous Christianity remain a minister in the Church of England?” -Looking at the Articles, if I were forced to assume that every one of -them is binding on a Church of England minister, I should say that a -belief in the miraculous is necessary for every one who can honestly -sign an assent to the Article on Christ’s Resurrection, which asserts -that, “Christ did truly rise again from death, and took again His body -with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining to the perfection of -man’s nature, wherewith He ascended into heaven.” These words distinctly -declare the Resurrection of Christ’s material body; and as I do not -believe in the fact, I cannot assent to the words, nor do I see how any -believer in non-miraculous Christianity can assent to them. - -Perhaps you may think, in your innocence, that this disposes of the -question, arguing logically thus: “The Church of England appoints -certain Articles as tests of belief for her ministers; A cannot assent -to one of these Articles; therefore A has no right to remain a minister: -there is no loophole out of this logical statement of the case.” There -is not: and if the Church of England were governed in accordance with -logic, I (and a good many others) ought to have left the ranks of her -ministers as soon as we found that we had been forced to reject a single -clause of a single Article. But the Church has not been fur several -generations governed in this logical way. Besides practically and -generally allowing among its members a great degree of freedom and -latitude, it has enlarged that latitude during the last generation by a -specific and authoritative alteration of the terms of subscription to -the Articles. When I signed them—which I did, with perfect honesty and -sincerity, some three or four and twenty years ago—we were obliged to -“assent and consent” to “each and every” Article in each particular: I -forget the exact terms, but I know they were as stringent as they well -could be. But in 1865 the Clerical Subscription Act introduced a new -form:—“I assent to the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion and to the Book -of Common Prayer.... I believe the doctrine of the Church of England as -therein set forth to be agreeable to the Word of God.” Now if “therein” -meant “in each and every clause of each and every Article,” that would -have been tantamount to a mere repetition of the old requirement. -Obviously therefore this alteration implies an obligation of the -subscriber to assent, no longer to “each and every Article” in -particular, but to the Articles as a whole, regarded as an expression of -Anglican doctrine. Consequently, at present, the necessity of -subscription need not repel any one unless he finds himself unable to -accept “the doctrine of the Church of England as set forth,” not in -detail, but generally, in the Articles and the Prayer-book; and I need -not say that a believer in non-miraculous Christianity by no means -occupies a position of such dissent as this. - -The only obstacle therefore for a scrupulous minister will be in the -services of the Church and in the reading of the Bible: and here I admit -that there is a very considerable obstacle, though it appears to me to -be less than it was a dozen years ago, and each year lessens it still -further. The difficulty lies, not in the scepticism of the minister (who -may be a more faithful worshipper of Christ than any one in his flock) -nor in any congregational suspicion or alarm (for his advanced views lie -quite beyond the horizon of the thoughts of any country congregation, -and any but an exceptional congregation elsewhere) but almost entirely -in the minister’s own uneasy sense of a difference between himself and -his people; in his fear that he may be acting hypocritically; in his -consequent loss of self-respect; and in a resulting demoralization -affecting all his work. - -Clearly this is a difficulty which would be diminished, if not -altogether removed, by publicity; but as long as it is not publicly -recognized that widely different interpretations of the Scripture are -possible and compatible with the worship of Christ, the difficulty is a -very serious one. Whenever such a man reads the Bible in the discharge -of his public duty, he is liable to be haunted with the consciousness -that he is two-faced. He conveys to his congregation an obvious meaning -and they assume that he accepts that meaning himself; but he does not. -Suppose, for example, he reads the story of the battle of Beth-horon: -his congregation believes that it is listening to the most stupendous -miracle that the world has witnessed; the minister believes that he is -reading an account of one of the twenty, or more, decisive battles of -history. Similarly, in the New Testament, if he reads the narrative of -the feeding of the 4,000 or 5,000, he reads it as a religious legend, -curiously preserving a deep spiritual truth, but of no value except for -its emblematic meaning; but his congregation listens to him as if he -were reciting one of the most important proofs that Jesus was no mere -man, but truly the Son of God. I do not wish to exaggerate the -difference between the rationalizing minister and the literalizing -congregation. Both he and they believe that in the battle of Beth-horon -God was working out the destiny of Israel and preparing for Himself a -chosen people; both he and they believe that Jesus Christ was the true -Bread of Life; and similarly, as regards many other miraculous -narratives of the Scriptures, the congregation and the minister, though -divided as to the acceptance of the historical fact, will be united in -accepting the spiritual interpretation which is the essence of the -narrative. Moreover, every year is probably increasing the number of the -laity who take the same esoteric view as the minister takes about many -of the miracles. In any educated congregation there must be a large -number of men, and there will soon be a large number of women, who do -not believe in the literal stories of Balaam’s ass, Elisha’s floating -axe-head, and Samson’s exploit with the jaw-bone. Unless educated people -are kept out of our churches, or separate themselves from the Church, -this number must soon increase. Thus the gulf between the rationalizing -minister and the congregation tends yearly to diminish through the -action of the congregation; and if only both the esoteric and the -exoteric interpretation of the Scripture were generally recognized as -being compatible with the faithful worship of Christ, I do not see why -the minister should not claim for himself, without any sense of -constraint or insincerity, the same freedom of interpreting the Bible -which is accorded to the laity. - -There still remains however the clause in the Creed stating the -Miraculous Conception, which to me appears the greatest difficulty of -all. It is one thing, in my judgment, to repeat the prayers of the -Church and to read passages from the sacred books of the Church, as the -mouthpiece of the congregation, and rather a different thing to stand up -and say—not only as the mouthpiece of the congregation, but in your -individual character, as a Christian, and as a priest as well—“I believe -this, or that,” and to take money for so saying; while all the time you -are saying under your breath, “But I only believe it metaphorically.” -Here, again, my scruples would be removed, if it were only generally -understood that the metaphorical interpretation was possible and -permissible. As regards the Athanasian Creed, for example, I should have -no scruples at all. For the tone and spirit, as well as for the -phraseology, of that Creed, I feel the strongest aversion. Yet I should -repeat it as the mouthpiece of the congregation without any hesitation, -because they would all know that the Church of England, so far as it can -speak through the archbishops and bishops, has signified that the -repulsive clauses in the Creed may all be so explained as practically to -be explained away. I do not in the least believe that this mild -interpretation of the damnatory clauses explains their original meaning; -but that matters little or nothing. Provided there be no suspicion of -insincerity, I am willing to make considerable sacrifices of personal -convictions in so complex a rite as congregational worship. The -clergyman whom I most respect has not read the Athanasian Creed for -thirty years: for my own sake, as a participator in the worship of his -church, I rejoice; but all my respect for him did not prevent me from -doubting sometimes whether he was right in this matter, until I found -that his action had been prompted by an expression of feeling on the -part of some representative members of his congregation. For if one -clergyman is justified in omitting the Athanasian Creed whenever he -likes, I do not see why another is not justified in reading it whenever -he likes: the liberty of the clergy might easily become the slavery of -the laity. I should therefore be ready to read the repugnant Athanasian -Creed because every member of my congregation would know (and I should -feel justified in letting them know from the pulpit) that I read it in -obedience to the law and in spite of my convictions. But I am not so -ready, at present, to read the Apostles’ Creed or Nicene Creed, although -I cordially accept them except so far as concerns the one word which -expresses the Miraculous Conception. My reason is, that I should not -like to leave my congregation under the impression that I accepted that -dogma, and on the other hand I should not feel justified in using a -pulpit of the National Church to explain why I rejected it. - -Here again, as in the previous instance, I feel that times are rapidly -changing, and the freedom of ministers in the Church of England is -rapidly increasing. For scruples as to the use of the Creeds, no less -than for scruples as to the reading of the Scriptures, publicity is the -chief remedy wanting to dissipate scruples; and time is on the side of -freedom. Belief in miracles now rests on an inclined plane; friction is -daily lessening, the downward motion is rapidly increasing; in a few -more years the authorities of the Church of England may recognize, not -with reluctance but with delight, that there are some young men who know -enough of Greek, and of history, and of evidence, to be convinced that -the miracles are unhistorical, and who, nevertheless, are worshippers of -Christ on conviction, with a faith not to be shaken by anything that -science or criticism can discover, and with a readiness to serve Christ, -as ministers in the English Church, if they can do so without sacrifice -of their opinions and without suspicion of insincerity. - -Personally, I have not felt these scruples very acutely. Circumstances -have placed me where nothing has been required of me which might not -have been done as well by a Nonconformist as by a member of the Church -of England. To help a friend, or do occasional work in an unofficial -way, has never caused me the least misgiving; for I have always remained -in cordial accord with the forms of worship current in the Church of -England. The only difference that my views have made in my clerical -action has been this, that I have preferred for a time not to place -myself in any position where ministerial work might officially be -required of me. Yet even these scruples have been doubtfully -entertained, and would vanish altogether if ever I were to publish a -volume of such letters as I am now writing to you, so that I could be -sure that my opinions were no secret from my Bishop and from such -members of my congregation as were likely to understand them. - -The advice which I have given to myself, I should also be inclined to -give to others who are already ministers in the Church of England, and -who have scruples of conscience in consequence of some divergence from -orthodox views: “Stay where you are, as long as you feel that you can -sincerely worship Christ as the Eternal Son of God, and as long as you -can preach a gospel of faith and strength, not only from the pulpit but -also by the bedside of the dying. If you can do this, you may stay, -though you are obliged to interpret metaphorically some expressions in -the Creed. If you cannot do this, go at once, even though you can accept -every syllable in all the Creeds in the most literal sense.” - -To young men who have not yet been ordained and who incline to -“rational” views of Christianity, I have been disposed hitherto to give -different advice: “Wait a while. The fashion of men’s opinion is rapidly -changing; the excessive fear of science on the part of the Clergy—many -of whom come from Public Schools where they have received no training in -the rudiments of science or mathematics—is, strange to say, predisposing -all but extreme High Churchmen to welcome the adhesion of any who are -firm believers in Christ, even though they may doubt or reject the -miracles. It would be a miserable thing to be ordained, and to undertake -the task of preaching a doctrine implying the highest conceivable -morality, and presently to find yourself condemned by those to whom you -should be an example as well as an instructor, for what appears to them -patent insincerity—condemned by others, and perhaps not wholly acquitted -by yourself. In a few years you may perhaps find it possible to be -ordained not upon tolerance but with a hearty reception, and then there -need be no concealment of your opinions.” - -Such is the language that I have hitherto used on the very few occasions -when I have been consulted, generally advising delay. But now I am -inclined to think that the time has come when young men with these -opinions ought not to wait, but ought at least to set their case before -the Bishops, leaving it to them to accept or refuse them as candidates -for ordination. Schisms and prosecutions are very objectionable things, -but there are worse evils even than these. There is the danger of -hypocrisy, spreading, like an infection, from oneself to others. The -hour has perhaps come for authorizing or condemning the extreme freedom -of opinion which some of the Broad Churchmen have assumed. Proverbs and -texts might be quoted in equal abundance to justify action or inaction -in the abstract; but two important practical considerations appear to me -to dictate some kind of action without delay. - -On the one hand, we hear the complaint that the ablest and most -conscientious men are deterred by scruples from entering the ministry in -the Church of England, even when they feel a strong bent for clerical -work. If this scarcity of able candidates for ordination continues for -many more years, we shall have bad times in store for us. Already I -think I have noted, among some ministers who are conscious of but little -intellectual and not much more spiritual power, a disposition unduly to -magnify their office, the ritual, the mechanical use of the sacraments, -parochial machinery, processions, sensational hymns, church -salvation-armies, and church-routine generally, because they feel they -have no evangelic message of their own, no individual inspiration. In -some degree, such a subordination of self is good and may argue modesty; -but in many cases it is not good, when it leads young men to materialize -and sensualize religion, to suppose that the preaching of Christ’s -Gospel and the elevation of the souls of men can be effected by -ecclesiastical battalion drill; to dispense with study, thought, and -observation; to acquiesce in the letter of the collected dogmas of the -past, and to hope for no new spiritual truth from the progress of the -ages controlled by the ever fresh revelations of the Spirit of God. - -On the other hand, there is the opposite evil, on which I have already -touched—I mean the danger that some of the more intellectual among the -clergy, those who do not sympathize with sacerdotalism and are popularly -reckoned among the “Broad Church,” may not only be suspected of -insincerity in professing to believe what they, as a fact, disbelieve, -but may also become actually demoralized by self-suspicions and hence -indirectly demoralize their congregations. I confess my sympathies are -very much with a man in that position. He has been sometimes the victim -of cruel circumstances. In his youth, the religious problems of the -present day lay all in the background. Before he was ordained, he may -very well have discerned no difficulties at all in the career before -him, nothing but the prospect of a noble work, to which he felt himself -called. His life was probably spent in a public boarding-school, where -he scarcely ever had a minute to himself for thought and meditation; it -being the ideal of the educator so to engross the time and energy of -each pupil in studies or in games that the average youth might be kept -out of moral mischief and the clever youth might get a scholarship at -Oxford or Cambridge. When he came to the University he found himself -expected to devote himself to “reading for a degree,” and there was -little or no time for theology; after taking his degree he found himself -under the necessity of earning his living, and if he was intending to -become a clergyman he naturally desired to be ordained as soon as -possible. If he was very fortunate, he may have contrived (as I did) to -get a year’s reading at theology while he supported himself by taking -pupils; but that was probably the utmost of his preparation. Soon after -reaching his twenty-third year he was ordained. And now, for the first -time, leaving school and college, he begins to realize what life means, -and to think for himself. Can we wonder that this “thinking for himself” -produces considerable changes of thought? If he is healthy, and active -in his parish, and has not much time for reflection and reading, the -changes will be long deferred, and he will be scarcely conscious of -them: but if he has any mind at all in him, and gives it the least -exercise, it is hardly possible that an able and honest student of the -Bible at the age of forty-six, when he comes to compare the opinions of -his manhood with those of his youth, will not find that he has ceased to -believe, or at all events to be certain of, the historical accuracy of a -good deal which he accepted with unquestioning confidence at the age of -twenty-three. - -Changes of this kind are inevitable, and they ought not to be feared. -Yet perhaps the fear of them deters some of the more thoughtful young -men from presenting themselves for ordination. They know that they -believe in such and such facts now, but, say they, “Many sincere and -thoughtful persons dispute the truth of these facts; and what will be my -position some ten years hence if I find that I am driven to deny what I -now affirm?” What one would like to be able to reply, in answer to such -an appeal, would be, that the worship of Christ does not depend upon the -truth of a few isolated and disputable pieces of evidence, but upon the -testimony of the conscience based upon indisputable (though complex) -evidence; so that, if the man’s conscience remains the same, he need not -fear lest the fundamental principles of his faith will be shaken by any -historical or scientific criticism. From the terrestrial point of view, -Christ is human nature at its divinest. Whoever therefore in the highest -degree loves and trusts and reveres human nature at its divinest, he -naturally worships a representation of Christ, even though he may never -have heard of the name. Now life will bring a young man many -disappointments and disillusions and paradoxes: but no one, who has once -worshipped Christ in this natural way, need fear (or hope?) that life -will ever bring him anything more worthy of representing human nature at -its divinest, anything therefore more worthy of worship, than Jesus of -Nazareth. The only danger is, that one may cease to be able to love and -trust and revere the objects that deserve these feelings. There is -indeed that danger, just as there is the danger that one may cease to be -able to be honest. But what young man, in mapping out his future, would -make insurance against such a moral paralysis? A man ought no more—a man -ought still less—to contemplate the possibility of becoming unable to -worship Christ, than the possibility of becoming unable to revere a kind -father or love affectionate children. If then our candidate for -ordination regards Christ in this spirit, one would like to encourage -him to present himself for ordination even though he may already doubt -the Biblical narrative on some points, and though he may be pretty -certain that he will change his mind on many others by the time he is -twice as old as he is now. However it rests very much with Bishops to -settle this question; and the question as to what the Bishops might do -is so important as to demand a separate letter. - - -P.S. Since writing the above remarks about the reluctance of the ablest -men at the Universities to be ordained, I have been told that the state -of things is even worse than I had conceived at Cambridge. There, at the -two largest colleges, Trinity and St. John’s, I am told that of the -Fellows who took their degrees between 1873-9 only eight, out of sixty -or thereabouts, took holy orders; and of those who took degrees between -1880-6, only three out of sixty. Trinity is conspicuous; of the sixty -Fellows who took degrees from 1873-86 only two have been ordained. - - - - - XXXI - WHAT THE BISHOPS MIGHT DO - - -MY DEAR ——, - -I reminded you in my last letter that ordination or non-ordination must -largely depend upon the judgment of the Bishops. This, I suppose, must -have always been the case to some extent: but there are reasons why it -may well be so now to a greater extent than before. The important change -made in the form of subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles has -supplied a solid and definite ground upon which the Bishops may fairly -claim to ascertain from candidates for ordination some details about -their religious opinions. In the times when candidates had to assent to -every point in every Article, no further examination was necessary: but -now that the candidate is allowed (by implication) to dissent from some -things in the Articles, the Bishop may surely, without any inquisitorial -oppression, say: “Before I ordain you, I should like to know, in a -general way, how far your dissent from the Articles extends.” Some -Bishops may be inclined to shrink from such an interrogation, as though -it implied doubt of the candidate’s sincerity: and of course such an -examination might be abused in a narrow or bigoted or even tyrannical -manner. But on the whole, I think, it might be even more useful as a -protection and help to the young candidate than to the Bishop. Here and -there, perhaps, a young man might be advised to give up, or defer, the -prospect of ordination; but others (who would have otherwise been -deterred by scruples) might be encouraged to be ordained in spite of -some intellectual difficulties; and this fatherly encouragement from a -man of authority and experience would be a great help and comfort, -strengthening the young man in the conviction that mere intellectual -difficulties could not interfere with his faith in Christ. Still more -valuable would be the young man’s consciousness that he could not be -called insincere or hypocritical, since he had concealed nothing from -the Bishop, who, after hearing all, had decided that there was nothing -to exclude him from ordination. - -I would therefore advise any man who desired to be ordained but was -deterred by present scruples or the fear of future scruples, to write at -an early period to the Bishop at whose hands he would be likely to seek -ordination, stating his difficulties frankly and fully, and asking -whether they would be considered an impediment. If he felt any touch of -doubt on the subject of the miracles, I would have him make them the -subject of a special question. In some dioceses I should expect the -answer to be unfavourable. From others perhaps the answer would come -that the Bishop was “unwilling to undertake so heavy a responsibility; -each man must decide for himself whether he can honestly read the -services of the Church and the lessons from the Scriptures without -believing in miracles.” That answer would be, in my judgment, -regrettable, though not unnatural or indefensible. But even that answer -would be of value, as it would be a record that, at all events, the -Bishop had not been kept in ignorance of anything that the candidate -ought to have revealed to him: and this in itself would be of great -value in lightening for a scrupulous and self-introspective young man -the burden of the questions which might sometimes arise in his mind as -he read aloud in the congregation the words of the Bible or the -Prayer-book. Moreover, I should anticipate that every year would see an -increase in the number of those dioceses from which a still more -favourable answer might be returned: “If with all your heart you worship -Christ as the Eternal Son of God, if you can honestly and sincerely -accept the Church services as excellent (though imperfect) expressions -of congregational worship; and the Scriptures as super-excellent (though -imperfect) expressions of spiritual fact; if you feel that you have a -message of good news for the poor and simple as well as for the rich and -educated, and that you can preach the spiritual truths which you and all -of us recognize to be the essence of the Gospel, without attacking those -material shapes in which, for many generations to come, all spiritual -truths must find expression for the vast majority of Christians, then I -can encourage you to come to the ministry of Christ. I myself am of the -old school and believe in the miracles, or if not in all, at all events -in most; but I recognize that this belief—though to me it seems safer -and desirable—is not essential: come therefore to the ministry, with the -miracles if you can, without them if you cannot.” - -Here indeed is a reasonable criterion of fitness for ordination: and if -a man cannot satisfy this, I do not see how he can complain of being -excluded. But no other criterion seems likely to be permanently tenable. -For imagine yourself to be a Bishop, trying to lay down some short, -precise, and convenient test, as regards the belief in the miraculous: -where are you to draw the line? A young man, eminently fit in all -respects for ministerial work, comes to you and says that he accepts all -the miracles but one; he cannot bring himself to believe that Joshua -stopped the movement of the sun (or earth). What are you to do? Reject -him? Surely not: not even though you were Canon Liddon, raised (as I -hope he will be raised) to the episcopal bench. The Universities would -join in protest against your bigotry; the whole of educated society -would secede from the Church on such conditions: the masses of -non-Christian and semi-Christian working men would cry out that such a -rejection was a portent of tyranny, and that the men who could accept -admission to the priesthood on such terms as these were no better than -superstitious dolts and slaves, creatures to be suppressed in a free -country! Well, then, you admit him: will you reject his younger brother -next year, who finds that he cannot accept the miracle of Balaam’s ass -speaking with a human voice? Certainly you will admit him too. And now -where are you to stop? If you admit a man who denies two miracles, will -you accept a man who denies a third, say, the miracle of Elisha’s -floating axe-head? And if three, why not four? why not five? and so on -to the end of the list? - -Again, a man comes to you and says that he feels obliged to reject as an -interpolation—although willing to read them as part of an erroneous but -long cherished tradition—the well-known words at the end of the Lord’s -Prayer, “for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and -ever:” what will you do to him? Refuse him? Surely not. The Revisers of -the New Testament have themselves rejected the addition, and I am quite -sure no scholar who valued God’s Word, and certainly no Bishop, would -wish to reject a man for preferring the New Version of the Bible to the -Old. But, if you admit him, what are you to say to his companion, who -rejects also the last twelve verses of St. Mark’s Gospel? In my opinion, -a man must be, Hellenistically speaking, an “idiot,”—a Greek “idiot,” -what the Greeks call _idiotès_—to believe in their genuineness. But even -though you, being a busy Bishop, may have forgotten a good deal of -Greek, you cannot forget the decision of the Revisers. For here again -the Revisers are on the young man’s side. They have printed this passage -as a kind of Appendix, placing an interval between it and the Gospel, -and appending this note: “The two oldest Greek MSS. and some older -authorities, omit from verse 9 to the end. Some other authorities have a -different ending to the Gospel.” Now if you admit the rejecter of these -two passages, will you refuse his companion, who tells you he is -compelled to agree with the Revisers also as to a third passage, John -vii. 53—viii. 11, where the Revised Version brackets several verses, -adding this note, “Most of the ancient authorities omit John vii. -53—viii. 11. Those which contain it vary much from each other”? You must -certainly accept him. But if you accept him, what are you to say to -young men who go further and reject whole books of the New Testament, -for example, the Second Epistle of St. Peter; the genuineness of which -has been impeached by a great consent of authorities, and concerning -which Canon Westcott says that it is the “one exception” to the -statement that the combined canons of the Eastern and Western Churches -would produce “a perfect New Testament”? And if we let him pass, under -Canon Westcott’s wing, how shall we deal with the next candidate, who -reminds us that Luther rejected the Apocalypse and the Epistle of St. -James, and declares that he cannot help agreeing with Luther? What -lastly is to be the fate of those who avow that they cannot shut their -eyes to the traces, even in the Synoptic Gospels, of considerable -interpolations or late traditions, especially in those portions which -contain miraculous narrative? Perhaps we might feel inclined to say, “We -will take our stand on Westcott and Hort’s text, or on the text of the -Revised Version, and will refuse any candidate who rejects a word of the -New Testament that is contained in either of these texts; the line must -be drawn somewhere, and we will draw it there.” What! Shall we reject a -candidate for ordination because he does not accept the Gospel according -to Westcott and Hort, or the Gospel according to an unauthorized though -scholarly knot of men called the Revisers? Impossible! all Christendom -would cry shame upon us. On the whole, we seem driven to the conclusion -that no candidate for Anglican ordination can be reasonably rejected for -believing that parts of the Bible are spurious or un-historical, -provided that he is willing to read in the presence of the congregation -the portions of Scripture appointed by the Church. - -If the test of miracles fails, and if the test of an infallible book -fails, so too does failure await the test of an infallible Creed. It -would be, at all events, departing strangely from the spirit of the -Reformers and from the spirit of the Articles, to allow men laxity as -regards the interpretation of the Scriptures, which are regarded as -specially inspired, and yet to pin them to the letter of the Creeds, -which are regarded as being authoritative because they are based on the -Scriptures. If a candidate were to tell you, his Bishop, that “he -accepted the Resurrection of Christ, and even of Christ’s body, but that -he could not honestly say that Christ rose on the third day; for Christ -was buried on the evening of Friday, and rose early on the morning of -Sunday, that is to say, on the second day,” you would perhaps reason -with him, and say that it was the Jewish way of reckoning; and if he -were then to reply to you that to the greater part of the congregation -this way of reckoning was unknown, and that the phrase might therefore -convey a false impression—what would you say to this ultra-conscientious -young man? This probably: that “the Creeds of Christendom could not be -disturbed on account of the eccentricities of well-meaning individuals; -that, if this was his only obstacle, you, his Bishop, could take upon -yourself to justify him in repeating these words as the mouthpiece of -the congregation; that it was quite open to him to explain the true -meaning of the words from the pulpit; and that little misunderstandings -of this kind, if indeed there was danger of any, were insignificant as -compared with belief in the essential fact that Jesus rose from the -dead.” - -When the young man goes out—probably satisfied, unless he is very -obstinate, and you a little impatient—let us suppose that another man -comes in, with a different objection to the same clause. He accepts the -essential fact that Jesus rose from the dead, and he does not object to -the words, “the third day,” but he does not believe that the material -body of Jesus rose from the tomb. He believes that Jesus Himself, that -is to say, His spirit, rose from the dead, and that He manifested -Himself to His disciples in a spiritual body, which, in accordance with -some law of our human spiritual nature, was manifested to those, and -only to those, who loved Him or believed in Him.[39] This is a more -serious objection by far: for you have to consider, first, whether the -young man is likely to hold fast his belief in the spiritual -Resurrection of Jesus, when based on such evidence as this; and secondly -whether he can preach the Gospel of the risen Saviour without raising -all sorts of questions and difficulties in minds unprepared to grapple -with them. At this point, then, I cannot blame your episcopal judgment -if you take time to decide, and if, before deciding, you do your best to -ascertain what manner of man you have to deal with, and, in particular, -whether his stability is equal to his ability. “Doubts and difficulties” -may sometimes betoken, not so much a mind that thinks for itself, as a -disposition to affect singularity and to strain after constant novelty. -But if you are satisfied on this point, I think you would do well to -admit him to ordination. I would not exclude from the ministry any one -who can conscientiously worship Christ in accordance with the services -of the Church of England, and preach the Gospel without shaking the -faith of the masses. - -Perhaps I shall seem to you (not now in the temporary episcopal capacity -which you have occupied during the last few paragraphs, but as plain ——) -very illiberal in excluding from the broad boundaries of the National -Church those who are unable to worship Christ. But I am not prepared to -alter the Nicene Creed or the Church Services; and if I could not -worship Christ, I cannot think that I myself should desire to be -included in the Church of England, as long as that Creed and the Church -Services remained in use. For how could I offer prayer to Jesus? or say, -in any sense, “I believe in Jesus Christ, God of God, Light of Light, -very God of very God”? No plea of metaphor would ever enable me to -repeat these words with any honesty, as long as I found myself unable to -worship Christ. I confess to a secret feeling that many of those who at -the present time think they do not worship Christ, do in reality worship -Him; and I have good hopes that some of them may, in time, when they -search out their deepest feelings, find out that they have long been -unconsciously worshipping Him, and that they can accept, with a -spiritual interpretation, some things that have hitherto appeared to -them inadmissible.[40] But to demand that the Creeds and Church Services -may be remoulded, is a very different thing from asking to be allowed to -put a metaphorical interpretation on one or two phrases in them. When -Parochial Councils are established, it may be found ultimately possible -to give some larger latitude in the modification or multiplication of -Services so as to make them more inclusive: but, after all, -congregations meet for worship, not for the sake of being liberal and -inclusive; and the inclusion of non-worshippers of Christ can hardly be -demanded from a Church that worships Christ. Nor must the inclusion of -“advanced thinkers” be carried to such an extent as to exclude the great -mass of ordinary believers. - -I myself, deeply though I sympathize in all essential matters with the -Church of England, should nevertheless be willing not only to be -excluded from it, but also to see excluded all who may take the same -views as I take, rather than that the simple faith in Christ entertained -by the great body of Christians should be injured by the premature -disruption of those material beliefs and integumentary illusions with -which, at present, their spiritual beliefs are inseparably connected. -And this brings me to another side of the question. If I were publishing -an appeal to the Bishops, I should certainly add an appeal to the -younger Broad Church clergy. It ought not to be asking too much from a -young preacher who is an “advanced thinker,” to remember that some -reverence is due to the simpler members of his flock. Many of those whom -he authoritatively instructs are older, wiser at present, of larger -experience in life, some of them perhaps more spiritually minded, than -he is. What if their deepest and most cherished religious convictions, -right in the main, are tied to certain expressions and narratives that -may not be historically accurate? Does it follow that their feelings are -to be outraged at any moment by assaults upon the ancient forms and -expressions of their belief from the lips of a young man who professes -to accept these forms, and takes the money of the Church for accepting -them? Such attacks upon the forms are at present worse than useless, -because they are sure to be construed into attacks upon the spirit. In -time a change will come, and even now a minister may do something to -prepare the way for the change. He may institute Bible lectures to which -he may invite the attendance of those alone who wish to study the Bible -critically, and those whose reading and attainments qualify them to -criticize, or to follow criticism. But, from the pulpit, matter of this -kind should be altogether excluded. - -Nor need the preacher fear lest such restriction should shackle his -liberty and take the life out of his sermons. In almost every case one -invariable rule can be laid down which will give ample scope to him and -no offence to his hearers: “Always preach what you believe to be true, -and never go out of your way in order to attack what you believe to be -untrue.” For example, your flock believes that Christ’s body (the -tangible body) was raised from the grave; you do not. Well then, do not -attack their material belief; but preach your spiritual belief. Teach -them that Christ’s Resurrection implies a real though invisible triumph -over the invisible enemy death; a real, though invisible, sitting at the -right hand of God; a real, though invisible, presence in the heart of -every one who loves and trusts Him. Thus you may teach the habit of -reverence, simultaneously with the habit of inquiry; a love of the old -forms, combined with a still deeper love of the new truths that may be -discovered beneath them; thus you will not shake the faith of a single -child; you will be impressing upon all alike unadulterated, precious -truth without sacrificing a little of your own convictions; and at the -same time you will be insensibly preparing the younger portion of your -flock to detach the material part of their belief from the spiritual, -and to retain the latter when the time may come that shall force them to -give up the former. In a similar spirit you should deal with the -Ascension and the Incarnation, not pointing out the difficulties -involved in the material belief of those dogmas, nor saying a word to -disparage those who believe in them, but doing your utmost to bring out -the spiritual truths and invisible processes which are represented by -those dogmas. Surely such a self-restraint as this is not more than may -fairly be demanded from any honourable man, I will not say from a -Christian, but from a gentleman. Your congregation are in their own -parish church; they are bound by conventional respect and by -deeply-rooted reverence for tradition and for the House of God, not to -manifest any such open disapprobation of your teaching as would be -freely permissible at a public meeting; you are their servant, and the -servant, the paid servant, of the National Church; and yet you have them -at your mercy while you stand in the pulpit. Profound consideration may -fairly be expected from you for their prejudices, as you may please to -call them; and all the more because they are, as it were, in possession -of the church, while you are an innovator, holding what must—at all -events for some time to come—appear to the multitude an entirely new -doctrine: they “stand on the old ways.” - -If the teachers of natural or non-miraculous Christianity could be -trusted to preach in this spirit, they might, I think, do a good work as -ministers in the Church of England, without injury to themselves, and -with much advantage to the nation. If not, they must come out of the -Church for the purposes of teaching; and that, I fear, would result in -mischief both for the Church and for the State. I believe that not a few -of the educated clergy are either suspending their belief about -miracles, or have decided against them; and if these were suddenly to be -banished, or gradually to drop out of the clerical ranks without -receiving any successors of their way of thinking, the gulf would be -widened between the clergy and the educated laity. The men who might -discover new religious truth and prepare the way for new religious -development, having henceforth to earn their living in other ways, would -find little leisure for critical study. The end would be that the nation -would be for a time divided between superstition and agnosticism; and -sober religion would go to the wall. - -Not indeed that the destinies of the Gospel of Christ are to be supposed -to be permanently determinable by the fate of a fraction of the Broad -Church section of the English clergy! The attraction of the natural -worship of Christ—strange, nay, impossible though it may seem when first -presented to the miracle-craving mind—is far too great to admit the -possibility of its ultimate failure. But first there must come a vast -and depressing defection on the part of those nominal Christians who -have hitherto worshipped Christ on the basis of an infallible Church, or -on the basis of an infallible Book, or on the basis of indisputable -Miracles. Perhaps this collapse will be precipitated by the discovery of -a copy of some Gospel of the first century, turned up when -Constantinople is evacuated by the Turks. You cannot have forgotten how -this year (1885) the educated religious world in England held its breath -in horrible suspense when the correspondent of the _Times_ telegraphed -that among the Egyptian manuscripts recently purchased by an Austrian -arch-duke, there had been disinterred a fragment belonging to a Gospel -preceding, and differing from, any now extant. From this terrible -discovery orthodoxy was delivered, for this once, by the learning of -Professor Hort: but who shall guarantee that a Professor Hort shall be -able, or even willing, to deny the proto-evangelic claims of the -next-discovered manuscript from the East? And then, what will become of -some of us! - -In any case, with or without such discoveries, the present word-faith, -and book-faith, and authority-faith in the Lord Jesus, must sooner or -later collapse; and people must be driven to the conclusion that the -Lord Jesus Himself must somehow be worshipped through Himself—Jesus -through the Spirit of Jesus, that Spirit which is apparent in families -and nations and Churches as well as in the New Testament, the Spirit of -Love whence springs that mutual helpfulness which in the New Testament -we call “fellowship” and in the newspapers “socialism.” This and this -alone will help us to apply our science to settle land questions, Church -questions, and war questions, policy domestic and foreign, and to -establish concord in the world, the nation, and the human heart. I do -not say that a time will ever come when there will be no obstacles to -faith in Christ. Moral obstacles will still exist to make faith -difficult: but some at least of the intellectual difficulties by which -we now shut ourselves out from Christian hope will then be dissipated. -_Odium theologicum_ will become meaningless. There will have arrived at -last that blessed time, predicted (1603) by Francis Bacon (shall we say -just three hundred years too soon?), bringing with it “the consumption -of all that can ever be said in controversies of religion;” and -henceforth there will be no “controversies,” only discussions and -discoveries. - -Then, with its mind freed from superstitious terrors and full of an -unquenchable hope, the human race, owning its allegiance to the Eternal -Goodness, and accepting as its captain the Working Man of Nazareth, will -address itself steadily to the work of Christian socialism, honouring -and encouraging labour without unwise and spasmodic pampering of it, -dishonouring and discouraging idleness without unwise and direct -recourse to forcible suppression of it; remembering always that, as the -ideal Working Man was subject to law, so must they be subject to law, -and as He bore suffering for the good of others, so must they be -prepared to suffer as well as to work. This is true socialism and this -is true Christianity. Do you deny it, and say, “This is not the -Christianity that has been current for eighteen centuries”? I reply, -Perhaps not; and, if it is not, we can call it by some other name. You -remember the saying of Lessing, that after eighteen centuries of -Christianity, it was high time to try Christ. Let us then amend our -phrase and say that true socialism will not be “the Christian religion” -but something better. It will be the Christian Spirit. - -We are taught by our Scriptures that it has been sometimes God’s method -to teach the wise in this world by means of those whom the world calls -foolish, and the strong and the rich in this world by those whom the -world calls weak and poor. If history is thus to repeat itself, it may -be reserved for the semi-Christian or non-Christian working man, for the -heretic or agnostic socialist, to guide orthodox and religious England -into a higher and purer and more spiritual form of Christianity. Yet on -the other hand, since intellectual movements come often from above, -though moral movements come from below, I cannot give up the hope that -it may be reserved for the clergy of the Church of England to do -something towards the removal of those merely intellectual difficulties -which are at present keeping multitudes of the workers, and not a few of -the thinkers, in our country, from recognizing their true Deliverer. - -Footnote 39: - - For the apparent exception of St. Paul, see above, p. 244. - -Footnote 40: - - You should look at a most interesting and instructive article by Dr. - Martineau in the _Christian Reformer_ (vol. i. p. 78), in which he - points out that, in a certain sense, the faith professed by - Trinitarians “in the Son, is so far from being an idolatry, that it is - identical, under change of name, with the Unitarian worship of Him who - dwelt in Christ. He who is the Son in one creed is the Father in the - other; and the two are agreed, not indeed by any means _throughout_, - but in that which constitutes the pith and kernel of both faiths.” - - - - - DEFINITIONS - - - i. Reality - - - 1. _Absolute reality cannot be comprehended by men, and can only be - apprehended as God or in God by a combination of Desire and - Imagination, to which we give the name of Faith._ - - 2. _Among objects of sensation those are (relatively) real which - present similar sensations in similar circumstances._ - - - ii. Force - - -“Imagined” is inserted, throughout these Definitions, as a reminder that -the existence of all these objects of definition, however real, is -suggested to us by the Imagination. - - _Force is that which is imagined to immediately produce, or tend to - produce, motion._ - -Why “immediately”? Because a particle of “matter”—attracting, as it -does, every other particle of “matter”—may be said to “tend to produce -motion.” Yet “matter” is not said to _be_ force, but to “_exert_” force. -“Matter” is imagined to attract “matter” through the medium of force, or -“mediately.” But force is imagined to act “immediately.” Hence the -insertion of the word. - - - iii. Cause and Effect - - - _When one thing is imagined to produce, or tend to produce, a - second, the first is called the Cause of the second, and the second - the Effect of the first._ - - - iv. Spirit - - - _Spirit, i.e. Breath or Wind, is a metaphorical name—implying - subtleness, invisibility, ubiquitousness and life-giving power—given - to the ultimate Cause of Force; and hence sometimes to the Cause of - beneficent Force in the Universe, i.e. God; sometimes to the Cause - of Force in the human individual; more rarely to the Cause or Causes - of maleficent Forces in the Universe._ - - - v. Matter - - -The existence of Matter has never been proved; and it is nothing but a -hypothesis. All the phenomena called “material” might be explained, -without Matter, by the hypothesis of a number of centres of force. The -_raison d’être_ of Matter is the notion of tangibility. But scientific -men now tell us that no atom ever touches another. If this be so, -scientific tangibility disappears and the _raison d’être_ of Matter -disappears, with it. But it is so natural a figment that we shall all -probably talk about it, and most of us probably will believe in it, -until human nature is very much changed. - -Matter cannot be defined positively except by repeating, in some -disguise, the word to be defined, as thus:— - - _Material, or Matter, is a name given to an unascertained and - hypothetical “material,” “matter,”_ “_substance,” or “fundamental - stuff,” of which we commonly imagine all objects of sensation to be - composed._ - - - vi. Nature - - - 1. _Nature means sometimes the (1) ordinary, or (2) orderly course - of things apart from the present and direct intervention of human - Will; sometimes the (3) ordinary or (4) orderly course of humanity; - sometimes the (5) ordinary or (6) orderly course of all things._ - - 2. _Law of Nature is a metaphorical name for a frequently observed - sequence of phenomena (apart from human Will) implying, to some - minds, regularity; to others, absolute invariability._ - - 3. _Miracle means a supposed suspension of a Sequence, or Law, of - Nature; Marvel, or Mighty Work, means a rare Sequence of Nature, in - which great Effects are produced by Causes seemingly, but not - really, inadequate._ - - 4. _“Supernatural” is the name given, in these letters, to the - existence of a God; and to His creation and continuous development - of all things: the divine action being regarded, not as contrary to - Nature, but as above Nature; not as suspending the sequences of - Nature, but as originating and supporting them._ - - - vii. Will - - - _The Will is the power of giving to some one of our desires, or to - some one group of compatible desires, permanent predominance over - the rest._ - -An addition might be suggested: “the power of controlling our desires.” -But we appear never to control our desires except by enthroning some one -desire (or group of desires)—whether it be the desire to gain power, to -ruin an enemy, to do right, or to serve God. - - - viii. Attention - - - _Attention is the power by which we impress upon our mind that which - is present._ - - - ix. Memory - - - _Memory is the power by which we retain or recall to our mind that - which is past._ - - - x. Imagination - - - _Imagination is the power by which we combine or vary the mental - images retained by Memory, often with a view to finding some unity - in them; and by which we are enabled to image forth the future - through anticipating its harmony with the past and present._ - - - xi. Reason - - - _Reason (or, as some prefer to call it in this limited sense, - Understanding) is the power by which we compare, and, from our - comparisons, draw inferences or conclusions. By means of it we - compare the suggestions of the Imagination with the suggestions of - Experience, and accept or reject the former in accordance with the - result of our comparison._ - - - xii. Hope - - - _Hope is desire, of which we imagine the fulfilment, while - recognizing the presence of doubt._ - - - xiii. Faith - - -The following Definition appears to me to be the basis of all theology. -It is no more than an emphatic restatement of the old saying, “Faith is -the _assurance of_ (or _giving substance to_) things _hoped for_.” Since -_hope_ is but a weaker and more hesitant form of _desire_, the _imaging -forth of_ (or _giving substance to_) things earnestly _hoped for_ must -imply the vivid _imagination_ of the fulfilment of things _desired_. - - _Faith (when not loosely used for Belief) is desire (approved by the - Conscience) of which we imagine the fulfilment, while putting doubt - at a distance._ - -“_Faith_ in a friend” means a _desire_ as well as a belief—that he will -do what you think he ought to do. “Faith” should never be used to -express a belief that something undesirable or wrong will happen, _e.g._ -“I have great _faith_ that the boy will go wrong.” “Faith” in the -uniformity of Nature implies a desire that Nature should be uniform, and -a feeling that it is God’s will. In moments when we dread the uniformity -of Nature we should say that we have a “conviction” or “expectation” of -it, not that we have “faith” in it. - -“Putting doubt at a distance is intended to include the different -degrees of faith: in the highest faith, the ‘distance’ is infinite. - -“When ‘faith’ is said to be ‘shaken,’ we may mean that, though the -desire may remain, doubt is not ‘put at a distance;’ or that the -Conscience no longer approves of the desire; or that the desire itself -is weakened.” - - - xiv. Belief - - - _Belief (when it is not used for Faith) means a sense, mixed with - doubt, that the affirmations of our mind will harmonize with - Experience._[41] - - - xv. Certainty, or Conviction - - - _Certainty, or Conviction, is a sense, unmixed with doubt, that the - affirmations of our mind will harmonize with Experience._ - - - xvi. Knowledge - - - 1. _Absolute knowledge, which is possessed by no man, would be an - identity between our mental affirmations and those of the Creator; - who knows all things in their Essence and Causes._ - - 2. _Knowledge (relative and ordinary) is (very often) a name loosely - given to a harmony between our mental affirmations and the - affirmations of the vast majority of those who have (or are thought - by the majority to have) the best opportunities for observation and - judgement._ - - _It might be more usefully defined as those mental affirmations - which harmonize with our nature and environment, i.e. with our - spiritual and material experience._ - - - xvii. Illusions and Delusions - - - _Illusions are mental affirmations not harmonizing with immediate - experience, but preparatory for absolute knowledge. Delusions are - mental affirmations not harmonizing with experience, nor preparatory - for absolute knowledge._ - -Footnote 41: - - Some might prefer “harmonize with experience _or with fact_.” But - “harmony with _fact_” can _never_ be proved: you can only prove - harmony with your experience, or with the general experience, of the - fact; or with experience of what others say about the fact. - - -THE END - - -RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LONDON AND BUNGAY. - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - ○ Text that was in bold face is enclosed by equals signs (=bold=). - ○ Footnotes have been moved to follow the letters in which they are - referenced. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Kernel and the Husk, by Edwin A. 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