MEMBERS OF THE FACULTY UNIVERSITY OF LONDON PRESS BT 10 . L6 1911 London (England). University. Faculty of London theological studies f Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/londontheologicaOOIond LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES oersit£ of Xonfcon press PUBLISHED FOR THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON PRESS, LTD. BY HODDER & STOUGHTON, WARWICK SQUARE, E.C. 1911 HODDER AND STOUGHTON PUBLISHERS TO THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON PRESS PREFACE In this volume members of the Faculty of Theology of the University of London offer some results of their study and reflection. They are all engaged as teachers in one or other of the various departments of the subject, endeav¬ ouring at the same time to follow the sound principle that every teacher should himself continue to be a student. Although their teaching is carried on in six separate Colleges, the writers have now for some years worked together in the Faculty of Theology and on the Board of Theological Studies in the University under the circumstances narrated in the Introductory Note. Opportunity for intercourse has, therefore, been provided by the duty of advising the University as to the curricula for the Divinity degrees, and by the general conduct of the business of the University in this department. The completion of ten years of this association in work seemed to furnish an opportunity for combining in the publication of some of their own studies. The examples set by theological teachers at Oxford and Cambridge, and also at the University of Manchester, had some influence in suggesting this action : in saying this, however, there is no desire to challenge any compari¬ sons ; a good example had been set, and this is an attempt to follow it in their own way. In this connection it should be observed that this design is not like that of the Oxford volume Lux Mundi (1889), in which a central theme was worked out in different applications by the contributors : this volume resembles those which came from Cambridge, Theological Essays (1905) and Biblical Essays (1910), in being a collection of independent studies. VI PREFACE It should also be observed that this is not an official publication by the Faculty: certain members have united to produce it, and it is hoped that at some future time another group of members — there are twenty- one teachers in the Faculty — may be encouraged to engage in a similar enterprise. In the present venture each of the six Theological Schools of the University is represented, and each of the principal parts of Theological curriculum has some share of attention. A. C. INTRODUCTORY NOTE SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF THE FACULTY By S. W. Green, M.A., Professor of New Testament Exegesis, Regent’s Park College. The movement which led to the founding of a Univer- sity in London originated in an open letter from the poet o^ondon. Campbell to Lord Brougham, in 1825. Two motives were prominent — the needs of higher education in the Metropolis, and the disabilities imposed upon Nonconformists by the older English Universities. Hence the poet pleaded for a great London University, for the purpose of 44 effectively and multifariously teaching, examining and rewarding with honours the youth of London,” urging also the ad¬ vantages of 44 cheapness of domestic residence and all the moral influence that results from home.” The appeal was so successful that within two years the shareholders in what was technically a joint-stock company subscribed a capital sum of £160,000, and in 1828 Uni¬ versity College opened its doors to students in Arts, Laws and Medicine. In intelligent anticipation of an expected Charter which would give power to confer degrees, the new institution assumed the title of the London University. This ambition, however, had to reckon with the vested interests of other chartered corporations, especially of the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and for seven years the opposition prevailed. Meanwhile the situation became complicated by the Kings . College. establishment in London of a second educational institu¬ tion of University rank. The crying needs of London had gained for the former enterprise the support of many who valued the connection of the Universities with the Church, but the frankly non-religious character of University vii INTRODUCTORY NOTE Vlll College led to a not unnatural reaction. A new College was proposed, with the purpose — to quote from its Charter, granted in 1829 — that “instruction in the doctrines and duties of Christianity as taught by the Church of England should be for ever combined with other branches of useful education.” Under the powerful advocacy of the Duke of Wellington the scheme prospered, and in 1831 King’s College was opened, somewhat crippled in resources by large withdrawal of support in resentment at the Duke’s acceptance of the Catholic Relief Bill of 1829. Thus within six years from Campbell’s letter London possessed two great Colleges, but still no University, and it was obvious that the claim of University College to become the teaching University for London was seriously challenged by the existence of her powerful rival. In 1834 a Bill for the abolition of Theological tests for matriculation and graduation at Oxford and Cambridge passed the House of Commons by large majorities, but was thrown out by the House of Lords. This action gave fresh impulse to the movement which was to result in a University of London, though on other lines than those originally contemplated. The following year the Commons voted an Address to the Crown, praying that a Charter be granted to “ London University,” i. e. to University College, and on August 19, 1835, the proposals of Lord Melbourne’s Government were communicated to Lord Somerset, Chairman of the Council of the College. In¬ evitably they were of the nature of a compromise. A Charter of Incorporation was to be granted to the soi-disant London University under the title of London University College, and a further Charter to “ persons eminent in literature and science, to act as a Board of Examiners, and to perform all the functions of the Examiners in the Senate House of Cambridge; this body to be termed the University of London.” To these examinations the students of University and King’s Colleges, and of other educational bodies to be named from time to time by the Crown, were to be admitted on production of certificates of INTRODUCTORY NOTE IX attendance at a satisfactory course of study. It was explained that the aim of the Government was “ to provide a mode for granting Academical Degrees in London to persons of all religious persuasions, without distinction and without the imposition of any test or disqualification whatever.” The compromise was accepted, and on November 28, 1836, University College received its Charter of Incorporation as a College, and the new University of London its Charter for the conferment of degrees in Arts, Laws and Medicine. Other educational bodies availed themselves of the privilege of “ affiliation ” to the Univer¬ sity, which enabled them to send their students to its examinations for matriculation and graduation : the list given in the later Charter of 1858 contains, in addition to the other British Universities and the two original con¬ stituent Colleges in London, some forty institutions, comprising a large number of Theological Colleges in London and the provinces. The original University, then, was an Examining Board which required from all its candidates attendance on courses of study in recognised institutions, which, however, it had no power to regulate, inspect or control. The slender link thus established between examination and teaching soon gave way. As credentials of academic discipline and instruction the certificates granted by the several affiliated institutions had no uniform value, in some cases little or none at all. This fact of experience was recognised by the new Charter of 1858, which admitted to matriculation and all degrees except in Medicine or Surgery “ persons not educated in any of the said institu¬ tions.” By pressure of circumstance the teaching Uni¬ versity for London originally contemplated had developed into an Examining Board for the British Empire. The stimulus of the London degree in raising the standard of general education for students in training for the Christian ministry was immense, and the Theological Colleges were not slow to avail themselves of it, utilising elsewhere, or themselves providing, the necessary instruc- X INTRODUCTORY NOTE The Scriptural Examina¬ tions. tion courses. The University roll contains the names of many Nonconformists who afterwards became eminent as preachers or as teachers and writers in Theology. Among former Principals of Colleges may be mentioned J. G. Greenwood, of Owens College, Manchester; Samuel Newth and R. Vaughan Pryce, of New College, London; Alfred Cave, of Hackney College; Henry Reynolds, of Cheshunt; S. G. Green and T. G. Rooke, of Rawdon; J. B. Paton, of the Congregational Institute, Nottingham, and R. LI. Roberts, of Regent’s Park. In addition to these the present Principals of Rawdon, Bristol, Manchester and Midland Baptist Colleges, Lancashire Independent College, Manchester College, Oxford, Cheshunt College, Cambridge, at least, together with many of the teaching staff at these and similar institutions, are graduates of the University of London. Other names that occur are those of Robert Vaughan, author of Hours with the Mystics; Eustace Conder ; R. W. Dale ; R. H. Hutton, of the Spectator; Charles Beard and R. A. Armstrong, of Liverpool ; W. F. Moulton, of the New Testament Revision Company, R. F. Weymouth, of Mill Hill School, author of The New Testament in Modern Speech; William Medley, of Rawdon; Alexander Maclaren, of Manchester ; while among the living, John Clifford, G. G. Findlay, J. Scott Lidgett, F. B. Meyer, J. H. Moulton, and J. H. Shakespeare are only a representative few of a great company in whose varied ministry to their generation what was gained through the University of London has been a vital factor. The ministry of the Roman Catholic Church has owed not a little to the same stimulus : it may suffice to mention the names of Father Rickaby, S. J., and Dr. Casartelli, Bishop of Salford. Of the Church of England clergy, the best-known London graduate was Edward Steere, first Bishop of Zanzibar. But the advantages were tempered by an obvious draw¬ back. The new University had attained its purpose of being non-sectarian only by being entirely non-theological. With one partial exception, it had no place or recognition for the Biblical and Theological studies which it was the main INTRODUCTORY NOTE xi business of these Colleges to promote. Students whose tastes and aptitudes lay chiefly in this direction had nothing to hope for in the way of University examinations or rewards, while others gained the degree in Arts largely at the expense of their Theology. The one venture of the University into the fearsome territory of Theology did little to ease the difficulty. A “ First Scriptural Exami¬ nation ” (first taken in 1839) was open only to those who had taken the London B.A. : this might be followed at a year’s interval by the “ Further Scriptural Examination.” Each comprised four papers only — the former in the Hebrew text of Genesis, the Greek text of St. Luke’s Gospel, Butler’s Analogy and Paley’s Evidences, Scripture History; the latter in larger portions of the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, Christian Evidences and Biblical History and Criticism. Two subjects sufficed for a pass in the First, three in the Further Examination. The restricted scope of these post-graduate examinations is further emphasised in the Regulations. Each examiner had a veto on any question; no question was to be put on “any doctrinal point disputed between Christians and Chris¬ tians,” or to require expression of religious belief ; no answer was to be objected to because of “ peculiarity of doctrinal views.” Additional value was given to these examinations by the award of book prizes (£5 and £10) to all who gained a first class. But the University of London, great as were its indirect benefits to the Theo¬ logical Colleges, gave no direct stimulus to Theological studies : a better way of freedom and unity was still to seek than a compromise which had attained peace only by rigid exclusion of whatever might disturb. At King’s College, for some years Theological instruc- King’s tion was given only as a part of the general curriculum, Theological but in 1847 a Theological department was founded, Department* having for its object the preparation of either graduates or non-graduates for Holy Orders in the Church of England. The status of “ Associate in Theology ” was conferred upon those who took this course satisfactorily INTRODUCTORY NOTE • • Xll to the College. Later on, provision was made for a portion of the study being taken in Evening Classes, but some attendance on the Day Classes was also required. Amongst the Theologians who at one time or another served on the staff of the Department were Maurice, Trench, Perowne, Plumptre, Barry, and Ellicott, and more recently Dr. Wace, Dr. Swete, Dr. Knowling, Bishop Collins, and Dr. Beeching. A large number of students took the Associateship : at the last time of drawing up a record there were over 900 of the clergy on the roll. A few had proceeded later to Oxford, Cambridge, or Durham, but it was always felt to be a hardship that no degree was available for students of Theology resident in London. In default of any help from the University in raising the * standard of Theological education for students preparing for the Christian ministry, action towards that end was taken by some of the Theological Colleges themselves. This deserves to be chronicled here, not only for the importance to which it grew, but because of its close connection with the subsequent attainment of a Faculty of Theology in the reconstituted University of 1900. In May, 1879, repre¬ sentatives of nine Congregational Colleges in England and Wales met in London and formed themselves into an association under the title of the Senatus Academicus. Other similar institutions were invited to join, and by the year 1901 the associated colleges numbered seventeen, with a governing Senate of 107 teachers and other repre¬ sentatives. The aim was to establish a yearly examination, of University rank, comprising the main subjects of the College curricula, conducted by examiners appointed by the Senate 44 from their own number or otherwise.” As the project prospered, such generous interpretation was given to that 44 or otherwise ” that the examination became practically independent of the teaching. The teachers had their say in the framing of the general scheme and detailed syllabuses of the examination; for the rest, they were content to submit their students to the free INTRODUCTORY NOTD Xlll judgment of the chosen examiners. The choice of examiners aimed high, and was not disappointed. Dis¬ tinguished scholars of the Anglican Church, as well as of the Free Churches, readily gave their services, and as two examiners were required year by year for each of seven subjects, the demand on their sympathy was no light one. A glance over the list singles out many names of world-wide repute in Theology and Philosophy among those who rendered help to this voluntary combination for the furtherance of Theological scholarship. In addition to this first examination, intended for College students of not less than two years’ standing, the scheme comprised a further specialised examination of Honours type in two at least of six appointed branches of Theological study. Successful candidates received in the one an associate’s diploma (A.T.S.), in the other the diploma of a fellow (F.T.S.). So widely was the scheme adopted that between 1880 and 1901 no fewer than 511 gained the A.T.S. (of whom 97 qualified for Honours and Prizes) and 11 the F.T.S. These results well warranted the ambition, expressed in occasional discussions of the Senate, of securing in one way or another University recognition for what were to all intents and purposes University examinations. From the beginning of the protracted negotiations which finally issued in the reconstitution of the University of London, representatives of the Associated Colleges took their full share in pressing the claims of Theological studies. One name calls for special mention — that of the late Dr. Alfred Cave, Principal of Hackney College. Through all the struggle he took a foremost part, sagacious, enthusiastic, untiring, till the end was achieved. But it was left for others to enter into his labours. From the first meeting of the new Faculty of Theology, so eagerly anticipated, on November 20, 1900, Dr. Cave was absent through illness ; the minutes of the third meeting, two months later, record the loss sustained by his death, and the Faculty’s “ sense of the value of the services rendered by him during XIV INTRODUCTORY NOTE Tlir Faculty of Theology. the period when the reconstitution of the University was under public consideration.” The Report of the Senatus Academicus for 1901 notes with satisfaction the completion of the B.D. scheme of the University of London, with some consequent modifi¬ cations of its own examinations, adding “ What further effect the B.D. degree may have upon the Senatus examinations has yet to be considered.” In the result the Senatus agreed that its work was done and its goal reached in the institution of a Theological degree, shaped largely on the lines of its own enterprise, and open to all comers, “ without the imposition of any test or disqualifica¬ tion whatever.” The Statutes of 1900, made by the Commissioners appointed under the London University Act of 1898, constituted eight Faculties in the University, of which Theology stands first. Seven Theological Colleges in or near London were named as the first Divinity “ Schools ” of the University, such of their teachers as should be recognised by the Senate becoming members of the Faculty. On the body so constituted fell the whole pioneer work of framing schemes of examination for the degrees of B.D. and D.D. An interesting experiment ! For two of the seven “ Schools ” were Colleges of the Established Church (King’s and St. John’s Hall, Highbury), three Congregationalist (Hackney, New and Cheshunt), one Wesleyan (Richmond), and one Baptist (Regent’s Park). How far would these diverse elements work together amicably and effectively towards results which all could accept, and which an impartial University could sanction ? If any had misgivings they were quickly allayed. After prolonged deliberation, marked by striking unanimity of aim and entire absence of friction, conditions were shaped for the degrees of B.D. (Pass and Honours) and D.D. For this initial success, the wise and tactful guidance of the first Dean of Faculty and Chairman of the Board of Studies — Dr. Robertson, then Principal of King’s, now Bishop of Exeter — was largely responsible; INTRODUCTORY NOTE xv the experiment now has the ampler justification of ten years of harmonious and fruitful co-operation in all the varied work of the Faculty. Technically, the schemes of examination thus prepared were only for internal students, i. e. students in the Divinity Schools of the University, but from the first they have been adopted by the Council for External Students also. In 1908 the Senate approved a plan, initiated by the Faculty and recommended by both Councils, for unifying the Internal and External Examinations for the degree of B.D. (Pass and Honours), under one Board of Examiners. The Faculty has also had the satisfaction of seeing the adoption by the University Extension Board of its suggestions for an examination for a Certificate in Religious Knowledge, open to all without matriculation. The hopes that this examination would be of wide service to such students of Theology as cannot study for a degree, and especially to teachers in Secondary Schools who desire to attain some qualification for taking the Scripture lesson, have hardly, as yet, been fulfilled. The stress of the examination is laid on four compulsory papers in the English Bible : to these are added two optional subjects, and the examination may be taken in two parts. It is greatly to be desired that this opportunity should be better known and more widely used. It may be added that between 1903 and 1910 exactly 200 passed the final examination for the degree of B.D. ; 56 internal students and 144 external, of whom four were women. During the same period the degree of D.D., the qualification for which is by thesis, with some relevant examination, was conferred on one internal student and on four external. What all this means for the furtherance of Theological studies cannot by any means be estimated. But, at least, teachers of Theology in London count it no small gain to their work that they have been permitted to enter into a wider fellowship, and so to realise better that oneness of purpose of which this volume is in some sort a symbol and a product. SUBJECTS AND CONTRIBUTORS ESSAY HISTORICAL NOTE ON THEOLOGY IN THE UNIVER¬ SITY OF LONDON . Samuel Walter vGreen, M.A. (Lond.), Professor of New Testament Exegesis, Regent’s Park College I THE HISTORICAL VALUE OF THE OLD TESTAMENT V William Henry Bennett, M.A. (Lond.), Litt.D. (Camb.), D.D. (Aberd.), Professor of Hebrew and Old Testament Exegesis, Hackney and New Colleges II THE YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI ON THE BOOK 01) JONAH . Albert William Greenup, M.A. (Camb.), Litt.D. (Dub.), D.D. (Ont. ), Principal of St. John’s Hall, Highbury III THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS . Herbert Tom Andrews, B.A. (Oxon.), Professor of New Testament Exegesis, Hackney and New Colleges IV PROLEGOMENA TO THE STUDY OF THEOLOGY . y Arthur Cayley Headlam, D.D. (Oxon.), Principal of King’s College, London V CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE . V Peter Taylor Forsyth, M.A., D.D. (Aberd.), Principal of Hackney College VI CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT THE REFORMATION James Pounder Whitney, B.D. (Camb.), D.C.L. (Toronto), Professor of Ecclesiastical History, King’s College VII THE AUTHORITY OF JESUS CHRIST IN EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE . Herbert Hayes'* Scullard, M.A. (Camb.), D.D. (Lond.), Professor of Church History and Christian Ethics, Hackney and New Colleges VIII THE HOLY SPIRIT AND, DIVINE IMMANENCE . y William Theopiiilus Davison, M.A. (Lond.), D.D., Principal of the Wesleyan College, Richmond IX THE STUDY OF RELIGION . Alfred Ernest ^Garvie, M.A. (Oxon.), D.D. (Glasg.), Principal of New College X THE EMOTIONAL ELEMENT IN RELIGION: A VINDICATION . V' Alfred Caldecott, D.Lit. (Lond.), D.D. (Camb.), Professor of Moral Philosophy, King’s College xvi PAG J vii 1 35 65 97 133 167 203 247 285 31 ESSAY I THE HISTORICAL VALUE OF THE OLD TESTAMENT Rev. Prof. W. H. Bennett, D.D., Litt.D., M.A. b SYNOPSIS A. — Subjects only Referred to Briefly . The subject is dealt with apart from considerations of doctrine, without denying that the science of dogmatics may have a bearing on the problem, more especially the religious experience of to-day enables us to interpret evidence as to religious experience in the past. 2, 3. Literary criticisms, etc. B. — Some Difficulties of the Problem History differs from Physical Science : cannot use experiment, large subjective elements in data and methods, personal equation large and difficult to determine. History differs from Law : witnesses dead and cannot be cross-examined ; documents ancient ; existing documents not originals, but uncertified copies ; evidence often hearsay. Lawyer’s task simplified by rules, by practical nature of aims, by principle of maintenance of status quo which does not apply to history. Serious difficulties in the study of history; even statements of contem¬ porary writers who might be supposed to be well-informed and trust¬ worthy are often quite mistaken. A fortiori imcertainty in the case of ancient history like that of Israel, where the documents are few, and many of them anonymous and of uncertain date or written centuries after the events they record. C. — Historical Certainty, Principles and Methods Yet History has its certainties, though inferior to Physical Science in detailed accuracy. Such certainty most assured when arrived at by a combination of items of evidence of different kinds, dealt with according to sound principles of reasoning. We may obtain absolute certainty where we have (a) a number of good independent witnesses, contemporary or otherwise mutually confirming each other; also ( b ) a number of related facts, affirmed by different witnesses, forming a consistent whole; and (c) a high degree of verisimilitude in the facts affirmed. Certainty may also be attained on slighter evidence. From a less amount of cumulative evidence. From a single first-class witness, e. g. the Moabite Stone. From the relation of the statements of comparatively weak authorities to known facts. Or even from the verisimilitude of the statements of a document of unknown value. D. — Historical Certainty, Scope and Limits These principles applied to — (a) The Area of Probability. Conclusions of History often only probable, and that in varying degrees. (b) Particular Events. Here certainty only attaches to outstanding facts. Illustrations. (c) Customs and Institutions. Here evidence even of a single document is usually conclusive as to existence of such customs, etc., at some time or other. (d) Ideas. Statement of an idea absolute proof of its existence. Conclusion. — Certainty most assured on what is most important. THE HISTORICAL VALUE OF THE OLD TESTAMENT NOTES ON THE APPLICATION OF THE PRINCIPLES OF EVIDENCE TO ANCIENT HISTORY, WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE OLD TESTAMENT. The wide range of the general subject, and the limited space available for this essay, compel us to confine ourselves to certain leading features of the problems of Old Testa¬ ment History. But before dealing with these, a few brief remarks may be made on matters which cannot be treated fully. A. — Subjects only Referred to Briefly 1. The Relation of Historical Criticism to Systematic Theology. — For the most part the history of Israel and its religion will be dealt with here on the lines of strict histori¬ cal criticism. Apart from any theological affirmation or denial, it is necessary to ask in the first instance, What can we establish on the same principles that we should apply to any other history ? Results thus obtained command the acceptance of scholars generally, whatever views they may hold as to dogmatics. But the present writer is not prepared to deny that such results may be supplemented by the aid of theological consideration, but space only admits of a few words on this subject. There can, of course, be no conflict between the results of different sciences. Scientific theology — we are not speaking of ecclesiastical formulae — cannot contradict historical criticism any more than geology can be at variance with astronomy. If it is alleged that a theo¬ logical result is inconsistent with an historical result, it 8 2 3 4 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES follows that one or both of the so-called “results ” are not results at all. But many of the results of historical criticism are merely probable. If, therefore, this science states that as a matter of purely historical evidences there is a degree of probability that a certain event happened, it would be entirely in harmony with such a result to add that theological con¬ siderations make the matter more probable or even certain. As regards our special subject, the Old Testament, it is useful to remember that historical criticism seldom establishes an absolute negation, particularly as regards Ancient History. In most cases the extreme negative conclusions of history should be stated thus : — “ There is no evidence that makes it in the least probable that such an event happened; therefore as a matter of history we may entirely ignore the extant untrustworthy statements that such an event did happen.” In such cases history has no need and no right to say that the event did not happen. Some distinguished scholars are apt, unfortu¬ nately, to acquire a dogmatic habit, and to state very emphatically what did not take place, when they merely mean that there is no appreciable evidence to show that an event happened. Thus with regard to many events in the Scriptures, all that history can state is that the available evidence does not establish their historical value as a matter of purely historical criticism ; it is still open to theology to supplement the historical argument. There will be no attempt, however, to co-ordinate what follows with systematic theology ; but something must be said as to the general relation of religion and history. It is impossible that a Christian scholar should forget that he is a Christian when he turns to the study of history. As a Christian he has certain spiritual experiences; he is convinced on good grounds that his fellows have similar experiences. He is, therefore, prepared to find that men in ancient times had such experiences. He knows that devout and earnest men, full of faith and holy enthusiasm, HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 5 have been the agents of moral and spiritual progress — partly through the help he has himself received from such teachers. He is, therefore, prepared to find inspired personalities, prophets and apostles, in ancient times. He is convinced that God has been an element and a power in his own life and in the lives of people of modern times ; hence he cannot help believing that God was an element and a power in the lives of men in ancient times. As Paul Volz puts it in his monograph on Moses, “ To him,” i. e. to the Christian scholar, “ God and Revelation stand at the outset of all discussion and investigation, to him it is self-evident that the religion of Israel had its origin in God.” Doubtless many scholars hold that the strictly historical method should ignore any Divine working, because its Divine character — according to them — is an uncertain interpretation of obscure psychical phenomena. There is, moreover, a certain convenience in making a preliminary study of history apart from any view of religion; but there may surely be a stage in our studies at which we are justified in taking God into account. It is not that our conclusions should be controlled by elaborate and rigid dogmas as to the Godhead, or as to inspiration and revela¬ tion. We may fully appreciate the difficulty of estimating the quality, extent and working of the Divine forces which we often call Providence ; but however little we can under¬ stand or measure, there is a Divine influence on history and a Divine communication to man. The reality alike of influence and communication has been a world-wide con¬ viction, held throughout all the ages by multitudes of men of all nations, of every condition of life, of every degree of culture. The student who shares this conviction is surely scientific if he allows it to affect his interpretation of history. 2. Literary Criticism. — The essential preliminary to any historical criticism is textual and literary criticism. The student of history is helpless till he has determined the nature, character and value of his sources or authorities — 6 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES a process which involves inter alia a determination of their date and authorship. It is only after this process has been accomplished that we can begin to construct history. Without the lower and higher criticism of the Old Testa¬ ment we know nothing concerning the history of Israel and its religion. But in this essay we leave the criticism of sources on one side; we assume that this part of the work has been done, that literary criticism has ascertained what may be known about our data, and we merely discuss the principles on which history may be constructed from such data. 3. Various Classes of Evidence. — The scale of this essay does not admit of an exhaustive treatment of all the classes and items of evidence. The writer is chiefly concerned with documentary evidence. Such data as geographical features, ancient relics, arms, implements and many other matters are either only touched upon or have to be altogether passed over. B. — Some Difficulties of the Problem The peculiar difficulties attending the study of Ancient History may be partly realised by comparing it with other studies. History resembles other sciences in that it is concerned with the observation and interpretation of phenomena; but there are important differences. We may make, for instance, 1. A Comparison with Physical Science. — The problems and methods of history, more especially of Ancient History, differ widely from those of physical science. Physical science, no doubt, is the interpretation of personal experi¬ ence, but it always does its best to get rid of the personal element in experience, to eliminate the personal equation. Science is never happy unless individual testimony can be verified by experiments which can be repeated indefinitely. The great weapon of science is experiment interpreted by the exact deductive processes of mathematics. For the most part the materials for scientific research are the things HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 7 — chemical substances, plants, animals, etc. — whose nature, relations and functions science is investigating. But Ancient History cannot work thus ; I cannot devise an experiment which will show whether Moses was a man or a myth. History rests mainly on Testimony or Author¬ ity; for the most part things and persons with which Ancient History is concerned no longer exist to be either observed or experimented on. The student can have no direct knowledge of Caesar or Pompey or William the Con¬ queror, or of a Roman Senate or a Witenagemot ; he only knows what other people can tell him about these persons and institutions, their statements as to the impressions which phenomena made upon them. The student of physical science is mainly objective ; by means of his experiments he is able to eliminate and disregard certain subjective features which might affect his conclusions; but the historian is compelled to be sub¬ jective, or at any rate to study the subjective processes of his witnesses. His evidence goes back to impressions made by things, persons, actions, processes, etc., upon observers. He must consider how far his witness was capable of receiving a correct impression. An observer looks at a motionless body and has the impression that it is a corpse ; another watches a brigade of cavalry and has the impression that there are 3,000 horsemen ; but it is quite possible that the body was alive, and that there were only 1,000 horsemen. But what the historian has really got is not the witness’s impression, but, at the best, his statement about the impression — a fact which forthwith suggests a new series of investigations. When did the witness make his state¬ ment ? How long a time elapsed between receiving the impression and making the statement ? What had the witness been seeing, hearing, saying, doing, feeling and thinking in the interval ? My recollection of the impres¬ sion I had last week or last year is apt to be combined with, affected by, or confused with, impressions which I have received since. 8 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Again, we have to ask whether the witness had the habit of careful and accurate statement ? For instance, what — so to speak — was the quantitative value of language as used by him ? Ordinary colloquial speech constantly exaggerates without any intention to deceive. A man may say he has not slept a wink, although he has been dozing at intervals all through the night. Are we dealing with the kind of statement which might be made in the smoking-room of a club, or on a political platform, or in a sermon, or with the kind of statement which would be made by an honest, careful witness in a law court ? But, again, we have to ask — Did the witness mean to tell the truth ? He may have been influenced by a desire to obtain royal or popular favour, or by a desire to further the cause of a party, or by anxiety to help a friend or injure an enemy. Flow different these problems are from those of physical science ! Experiment is impossible in Ancient History, and neither pure nor mixed mathematics has any calculus to determine for us how the dramatic instinct, vanity, hope or fear, hatred or affection will influence a man’s impressions and the statements he makes about them. 2. Comparison with Law. — We may also note that the task of the student of Ancient History differs from that of the judge or lawyer. Both, no doubt, are concerned with the problem of testimony, but the lawyer chiefly depends on living witnesses, he has an actual man before him and can form some judgment as to his character and intellect, his habits of thought and speech; he can cross- examine him. With all these advantages he often finds it difficult to determine the meaning and value of the evidence of a given witness. But the witnesses for Ancient History are dead long since, and we have no Witch of Endor to call them back from Sheol. In many cases, as far as express statements are concerned, we know absolutely nothing about our witnesses, not even their names. We have simply anonymous documents : we do not know who wrote them, or when and where they were written In a HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 9 sense they are less authenticated than the anonymous letters sometimes written to a judge who is trying a case — though they may be of infinitely greater value. But, further, much of our evidence is hearsay , second¬ hand, third-hand, hand to the nth evidence. We have not the statement of the observer who received the impres¬ sions ; but of some one writing decades or centuries later. The original impression and the statement which reaches us are connected by a chain of witnesses; A received an impression of something he saw or thought he saw; later on he told B his recollection of this impression; later on still B told C his recollection of what he gathered from what he heard from A, and so on from C to D, etc. At last, somewhere in the chain, we arrive at our document — its author, say G, wrote down the version of the story as he remembered to have heard it from F. At every stage there is the possibility of mistake or well-meant correction or wilful falsification. It is true that the lawyer also makes use of documents ; but even here his task is much lighter than that of the student of Ancient History. Most of the documents he deals with are comparatively modern, and many of them come to him with an official guarantee, they are either original documents or certified copies ; he can usually obtain evidence as to their history from living witnesses. In our case the documents are ancient; many of them are neither originals, nor certified copies, nor in any way guaranteed. In the case of the Old Testament the histori¬ cal books were mostly compiled centuries after the events they describe, and the manuscripts in which the books are extant were not written till centuries after the books were compiled. In other ways, too, the problems of the lawyer and historian are somewhat different. The lawyer’s real task is practical and not scientific ; he does not actually decide what happened in the remote past or even the recent past, but what is to happen in the immediate future, whether a man is to be shut up in prison, or whether A is to pay 10 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES £100 to B. He may justify his decision by expressing an opinion that the man has committed a certain crime ; or he may simply say that on the evidence before him he feels bound to come to a certain conclusion. Thus it has been said that 44 To the legal mind a fact ceases to be a fact the moment a properly qualified court has decided the other way.” He is guided in these matters by definite positive laws and traditions as to evidence. In some ways the historian’s task is more difficult, he has no positive laws and traditions laid down by official authorities, and he could not be content with them if he had. Thus, even the great standards of faith set up authoritatively by the more important churches have never laid down any such canon as that every statement in every narrative in the Bible is to be accepted as exactly accurate in its literal meaning. If any church were to make this rule an article of belief, stantis ant cadentis ecclesiae, even historians who belonged to its communion might find some difficulty in applying it, and no one outside that particular church would recognise it as authoritative. But in other respects the historian has the advantage; he need not come to a decision 44 Yes ” or 44 No ” ; he may simply say that in his opinion the evidence is inconclusive, but that — possibly — the balance of probability inclines one way or the other. Moreover, in some ways legal principles are misleading if applied to Ancient History. For instance, inasmuch as law deals with practical matters of its own time, it has a necessary respect for the status quo. The status quo must not be disturbed without conclusive reasons. If a man has the status of an innocent citizen he retains that status, unless there is convincing evidence of his guilt. If a man is in possession of an estate he continues to hold it, unless some one else can fully establish a rival claim. There is an unfortunate tendency to apply this principle to Ancient History in cases where it is not valid. No doubt there are cases to which it does apply. Where a HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 11 matter has been carefully investigated, and the historicity of certain facts has been accepted amongst scholars by a consensus of opinion, such results will be regarded as established until they are overthrown by equally weighty authority. But the rights of a status quo are often claimed without warrant. A story, say about William Tell and the apple, is found in some document; without criticism or investigation it is repeated, copied and recopied, handed down by otiose assent from one writer to another. Such a chain of uncritical repetition is solemnly described as an ancient, continuous and unanimous tradition. The story may appear in popular text-books, and its position as a narrative currently accepted as genuine history is treated as kind of status quo which must not be disturbed unless overwhelming evidence can be produced that the alleged facts are unhistorical. In such matters we often hear a great deal about the onus probandi. When a statement has once been made, it seems to be supposed that the onus probandi rests on any one who denies it. Doubtless it does, but the onus probandi rests almost equally on any one who asserts that the statement is correct. It is absurd to suggest that every statement by any one about anything requires serious consideration, however unsatisfactory the witness may be, and however remote in time the testimony may be from the facts in question. Obviously such a position is not formally maintained, but many arguments as to the history of Israel practically assume such a premiss. Whether the historian asserts or denies, he must be prepared to give adequate grounds for his views; it is not enough — at any rate as a matter of historical science — to refer to a verse in Chronicles or Genesis or even Kings; it is necessary to show that the writer of the witnessing document was a well-informed trustworthy witness, or else that his state¬ ments can be corroborated by other arguments and evi¬ dence. If this cannot be done, the historian may legiti¬ mately ignore such statements. Practically, however, the absence of absolute disproof often seems to be regarded 12 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES by apologetic writers as complete and positive proof of the historicity of statements which are very slenderly authenticated. As we have already said, it is the duty of the historian 1 to show what certainly, or probably, or even possibly, happened ; he is seldom called upon to state what did not happen. Where he is negative it is usually sufficient for him to ignore evidence which has no appreciable value ; he need not provide a formal and complete proof that alleged events did not happen. It would be waste of time to take the trouble to demolish the story of Asmodeus in Tobit. It does not follow that the lawyer, qua lawyer, is specially fitted to weigh evidence as to Ancient Llistory. In many cases, doubtless, legal studies, training and experience produce the judicial mind which may be as much at home in history as in the law courts ; but as language itself implies, the lawyer is often the advocate, preoccupied in obtaining evidence in support of a client’s case and in stating the case for the client as forcibly as possible. Such experience might have been a splendid training for an old-fashioned professor of apologetics, but is less useful to a scientific historian. 3. Other Considerations on the Difficulties of Historical Proof. — The difficulties mentioned in the previous sections may be more clearly realised by means of a few illustra¬ tions. Forty or fifty years ago schoolboys were taught to regard Cerdic the founder of Wessex as a solid, thoroughly well-established historical figure. Now Professor Oman tells us 2 that “ it is safer to regard the existence of any Cerdic as founder of the West Saxon realm with deep suspicion.” The narratives of the Saxon conquest contain eponymous figures, Wihtgar, who is said to have conquered the Isle of Wight, and Port, who is said to have landed at Ports¬ mouth. Even the maps of Roman Britain which used to delight our souls with their neatly coloured divisions appear to be a fraud. For, according to Professor Oman,3 1 Page 4. 2 England before the Norman Conquest, p. 255. 3 Op. cit. p. 150. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 13 ’4 The boundaries shown in all old and (alas !) some new atlases are taken from the ingenious forgery of Professor Bertram, an eighteenth-century Dane, who foisted on the learned world a catalogue fathered on the Chronicler, Richard of Cirencester, of roads, towns and provinces in Britain manufactured by himself.” The classical story about Sir Walter Raleigh — his despair of writing a history of the World from the Creation, in view of the fact that he could only get contradictory accounts of something that had happened under his prison windows — will be familiar to all our readers. But to come down nearer our own times. History sometimes uses the evidence of contemporary lyrics, ballads or other poems. Now when the line-of-battle- ship, the Royal George, capsized and sank in harbour, towards the end of the eighteenth century, Cowper wrote — “ Her timbers yet are sound. And she may float again ; ” but Mr. Frazer in his History of the Seller option says that the timbers of the Royal George were so rotten that the Govern¬ ment of the day did not dare to raise her for fear her condition should be discovered. Examples from our own time show the liability of contemporary witnesses to fall into error.1 Thus M. Langlois2 writes, 44 Froude visited Adelaide, in Australia, and wrote, 4 We saw below us in a basin, with a river winding through it, a city of 150,000 inhabitants, none of whom has ever known or will ever know one moment’s anxiety as to the recurring regularity of his three meals a day.’ “ Thus Froude, now for the facts : Adelaide is built on an eminence; no river runs through it ; when Froude visited it the population did not exceed 75,000, and it was suffering from a famine at the time.” We are not sure that M. Langlois is right about the 1 Cf. p. 7. 2 Langlois and Seignobos, Introduction to the Study of History, p. 152. 14 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES river ; but in any case the contradiction between two fairly contemporary authorities shows a fortiori how difficult it may be to rely on ancient documents. Again, suppose a future historian wishes to know where George Eliot was buried. He would naturally regard as good authority memoirs written by a distinguished literary man who was at the funeral. In such memoirs it is stated that she was buried at Kensal Green ; but, as a matter of fact, her grave can be seen in Highgate Cemetery. Turning to another topic, it may be convenient to notice here the fallacy that the trustworthiness of a document may be determined by testing a sample of its contents. Ex uno disce omnes is sometimes the watchword of partial or perfunctory souls. The accuracy of a document as to certain facts is no proof that it is correct throughout. Scott’s Anne of Geier stein is accurate as to many points of history, geography, manners and customs; but it is not therefore accurate history throughout. And, on the other hand, it does not follow that because a document makes mistakes on some points, that therefore its testimony is worthless throughout. To refer to our previous illustrations : Cowper, it seems, was wrong as to the condition of the Royal George ; nevertheless, his poem is conclusive evidence as to the main fact, the loss of the vessel. The memoirs we spoke of contain much reliable information ; a moment’s reflection shows that the mistake about the cemetery might arise from some cause which would not affect other matters. The author of the memoirs had doubtless attended many funerals at various cemeteries ; on such occasions the mind is not as a rule much occupied with locality, so that he might easily be confused on this point while perfectly accurate on matters in which he was more interested. The principle of the sample is specially inapplicable to many ancient works, because they are often a mosaic of sections from older works. More particularly, most of the historical books of the Old Testament have been largely HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 15 compiled by more or less verbatim borrowing from earlier documents ; so that two consecutive paragraphs may have been originally written at different times and places by different people, and the authority of the one may be far superior to that of the other. Even apart from such borrowing, an author may be much more reliable on some points than on others. He may be well informed as to the kings of Edom, and quite mistaken as to the Tower of Babel ; he may be prejudiced in favour of David, and against Saul. Thus the fact that Ahab is known beyond doubt to be a real personage, is not a strong ground for accepting the narrative about Elisha and the naughty boys and the bears. The account of Ahab’s wars and the story of the bears are borrowed from different sources, and the general sequence of the history is in no way affected by the insertion or omission of such a story. C. — Historical Certainty, Principles and Methods Even the preceding brief sketch of the difficulties of our subject, with its handful of illustrations, may enable us to understand why the writing of Ancient History some¬ times seems an impossible task, and why some serious scholars have maintained that history is not a science at all, and that we know nothing of ancient times 1 — a view which has been summed up in the epigram, “L’histoire n’est qu’une fable con venue.” But common sense and the scientific spirit alike revolt against such extreme scepticism. Apart from questions of formal proof, as a matter of fact, we are certain on many points even in the remote past. There is a general con¬ sensus of reasonable men that there are facts of mediaeval and ancient history which are as fully established as any of the results of science. For all practical purposes, at any rate, we are as certain that William the Conqueror defeated Harold as we are that the earth is an oblate 1 Bernheim, Lehrbuch der historischen Methode, p. 197. 16 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES spheroid, or that water is a compound of hydrogen and oxygen.1 But however plain the fact of such certainty may be, its explanation and justification involves serious problems. How is certainty attained ? What are its limits ? How may we determine when and how it is justified ? Why, for instance, are we sure that there was an actual historical king of Israel called David, but are perhaps a little uncertain about Moses, and very doubtful about Abraham ? Why are we sure that Nebuchadnezzar captured Jerusalem, but possibly not altogether convinced that David killed Goliath ? It may be convenient at this point to state four heads under which our principles and methods may be classified, viz. the use of — (a) The ordinary laws of deduction, induction and analogy. (b) Cumulative evidence. (c) Trustworthy contemporary narratives written by persons with first-hand knowledge. ( d ) The verisimilitude of narratives not otherwise attested. Any adequate and assured certainty as to history mostly rests on a combination of (a) and ( b ). For such an event, for instance, as the battle of Hastings, we have cumulative testimony, a number of independent witnesses and pieces of evidence all concurring in testifying to William’s victory. But apart from these our knowledge of earlier and later times, and our knowledge of contemporary history, require some such event; from such knowledge, even if we had no direct testimony, we could deduce that such an event must have taken place. Thus there is an interdependence of men and things and events which guarantees the main lines of history. It is like an arch whose stability is assured by the mutual relation of its parts. The attestation of a given event is not merely the direct evidence that refers to it, but the 1 Cf. Bernheim, op. cit., pp. 189 ff. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 17 whole body of testimony which is available for the general scheme of history of which the given event is an integral and indispensable part. Take, for instance, the history of Israel in the eighth cen¬ tury b.c., i. e. roughly from 850 b.c. to the death of Hezekiah. We have a number of witnesses, the book of Kings, the prophecies of Amos, Hosea, Isaiah and Micah, certain portions of the Pentateuch, the Moabite Stone, Assyrian and Egyptian inscriptions. This variety of independent evidence absolutely establishes the historicity of the leading persons and chief events of the period. Apart from express corroboration, Israel and Judah were ele¬ ments in the general life of the international system com¬ prising Western Asia and Egypt. Very much that we find in the Old Testament documents is consistent and con¬ gruous with the total mass of our extant information as to this group of states. We have, therefore, further grounds for believing that the broad picture of the period given in Kings and the Prophets is substantially correct. But further we have a measure of knowledge concerning the periods before and after the eighth century. For the most part it is true that what we read concerning this century is, on the one hand, an appropriate sequel to what we know of earlier times, and on the other hand, the natural preparation for the events and conditions of later days. This is a further ground of certainty. The total result is overwhelmingly conclusive. A similar combination of evidence guarantees the history from 700 to 550 b.c. (c) Trustworthy contemporary narratives written by persons with first-hand knowledge. — Such combinations of evidence as we have been discussing will often include writings of actors or witnesses of the events of the period, e. g. those portions of the books of the prophets which were actually composed by them. But there are many cases where the full combination of evidence is not available, and we are limited to a few or even a single authority. We may still, however, be able to come to assured conclusions. A 18 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES document may be of such a character that its statements may be accepted as substantially accurate, without any express confirmation. One class of such documents consists of contemporary narratives, written by well- informed persons, with the intention of conveying accurate information. These may be called “ trustworthy ” in an elastic sense ; they are not infallible. As we have shown above,1 even a contemporary writer, who may be supposed to be well informed, and who has every intention of telling the truth, may yet make mistakes ; moreover, the contemporary authority’s zeal for truth may sometimes be limited by personal prejudice, party feeling, or official expediency. Nevertheless, he can usually be trusted as to facts which were publicly notorious, and on some points absolutely certain conclusions can be drawn from his statements. Thus for the Old Testament we have a number of Assyrian, Egyptian and other monuments, tablets and papyri which have a more or less direct bearing on the Sacred Narrative. They are mostly official documents; some of them are public monuments intended to com¬ memorate the achievements of a king or noble ; others are state archives or memoranda, intended to communicate or preserve information for practical purposes. Obviously they are not infallible, their authors were quite capable of making mistakes, and were controlled by official necessi¬ ties and conventions. On the face of it one would suppose that a public monument, or even a public dispatch, would not set forth what was notoriously and glaringly false. But, unfortunately, impudent lies are sometimes solemnly inscribed on brass or marble. There are epitaphs. We know how — ec London’s column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.” We recall the shameless mendacity of many of Napoleon’s bulletins. We are told that Egyptian kings sometimes supplemented the meagre roll of their actual conquests 1 Page 13. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 19 by adding lists of nations copied from the monuments of their predecessors. But, in spite of all this, much accurate information can be got from public monuments and documents. The names mentioned on them are the names of real persons and places ; they may exaggerate a success or even repre¬ sent a defeat as a victory, but we may be sure that at any rate there was a battle. An epitaph may not be conclusive evidence as to the many virtues and achievements of Sempronius, but it shows that there was such a man, living at a given date, cobbler or consul as the case might be. “ London’s column ” does not convict the Romanists of arson, but it shows that there was a great fire. Napoleon’s bulletins are good evidence for the fact that he carried on campaigns in Russia. We may take for a more detailed illustration the cele¬ brated inscription of Mesha on the Moabite Stone. Mesha was a king of Moab, contemporary with Ahab and his successors. This stone was obviously erected at Dibon, Mesha’s capital, as a permanent public monument in some conspicuous place. It mentions Omri as king of Israel and names a number of towns in the neighbourhood of Dibon. It follows that Omri was king of Israel and that such towns existed. For one thing, no one would erect a monument and adorn it with the names of imaginary towns in the immediate neighbourhood. The stone speaks of the subjection of Moab to Israel and of a successful revolt, involving the capture of various towns; it also mentions certain public works executed by Mesha. Even apart from the parallel statements in Kings, the stone by itself is conclusive evidence of the subjection and the revolt. Mesha would hardly have invented the subjection in order to credit himself with a successful assertion of independence. There is just a possibility of doubt as to the public works. It is just possible, only barely possible, but still not entirely without parallel, that Mesha may have credited himself on the stone with certain public works which he had not yet executed. He may have intended, for instance, to make 20 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES a road by the Arnon, and have said, proleptically, that he had done so, in the expectation that the statement would very soon be correct ; and yet the road may never have been made. Then, too, there are details as to which the evidence of any single authority is never absolutely conclusive. The stone gives the length of certain periods as thirty and forty years, and the numbers of certain bodies of persons as two hundred and seven thousand. Obviously these are not exactly accurate, they are round numbers; but we could not be sure that they have even the approximate accuracy of round numbers. Similar considerations apply to the prophetic and other sections of the Old Testament which are contemporaneous, or nearly contemporaneous, with the periods to which they refer. More especially what they take for granted or imply may usually be accepted without reserve.1 The prophetic utterances were also in their way public mani¬ festoes, and we may assume that what they state or imply as to matter of common knowledge was in accordance with the facts. (d) The verisimilitude of narratives not otherwise attested. — The serious difficulty as to early history, Israelite and otherwise, is that the evidence dwindles and deteriorates as we get farther and farther back. Our extant documents in their present form are separated by centuries from some of the periods to which they refer. It is true that they embody extracts from much earlier documents, but we do not know who wrote these older works, nor with any exactitude how, when, where, and under what circumstances they were written. They are not supported by any external attestation. Their statements must stand or fall by their own intrinsic reasonableness and probability, their veri¬ similitude. This “ verisimilitude,” however, is not wholly a matter of the internal character of a narrative, and its relation to general laws of nature, life, character and conduct. The most isolated series of events has points of 1 Cf. below, p. 30. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 21 connection with the circumstances of its own period, and of previous and later periods ; so that what we have said as to the evidence of such connection applies here.1 A common test of verisimilitude is the correspondence of the conditions implied by a narrative with the actual conditions of the period with which it deals. The negative application of this principle of verisimilitude or 44 intrinsic probability ” 2 is simple and conclusive. When the conditions of life implied by a narrative are clearly not those of the period of the events described, we may at once conclude that our document is not con¬ temporary, and affords us no evidence that the narrative is based directly or indirectly on contemporary works; by itself it is worthless as evidence, although it is always possible that some of the statements it contains may be correct. Thus some of the sections of Chronicles dealing with the reign of David imply an ecclesiastical system which did not exist till centuries later; these sections, therefore, do not add to our knowledge of David. But, of course, elsewhere, statements peculiar to Chronicles may be correct. But the positive application of the principle of veri¬ similitude is arduous, complicated and precarious. At first sight nothing seems easier. We read the story of Jacob and say, 44 How true it is to human nature, to life, to experience ! No one could have invented that ! ” In a sense, this is true, even if the stories are folk-lore ; no one could have invented these charming touches of nature; there was no need to try ; they are simply borrowed from the common experience of everyday life. Folk-lore naturally tells its stories largely in terms of the life with which it is familiar. If an artist paints an imaginary land¬ scape, it is a composition made up of elements from nature as it really is, combined as nature might have combined them. An impressionist school, in what is pleased to call itself an advanced civilisation, might possibly paint 1 Cf. pp. 16 £, with regard to (a). 2 “ Innere Wahrscheinlichkeit,” Bernheim, op. cit., p. 533. 22 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES grass pink and the sun green; but primitive art would probably follow nature whether depicting the real or the imaginary. The perfectly natural appearance of a picture is no proof that it is an accurate representation of a land¬ scape. And so, most unfortunately, the faithfulness of a narrative to real life is no proof that it is accurate history ; we should always like to believe that interesting and edifying stories are historical ; but often this natural desire cannot be gratified. A first-class novel is often wonder¬ fully true to life, much more so than some biographies. The latter may be entirely composed of facts, but they are sometimes so selected as to give an altogether false impression of the real man. Valid tests of verisimilitude are not so simple and attractive. They are difficult to define, and indeed they are too various and delicate to be stated in exact canons ; and can only be illustrated by a few examples.1 Take, for instance, the history of David. Substantially all our information is derived from a single extant work, the Books of Samuel. Criticism, however, has shown that this work includes extracts from three or four earlier documents dealing with the life of David.2 This critical result, the composite nature of Samuel, is important evidence for the existence of David, and for the main facts of his reign. But single episodes often rest on the authority of one only of those original documents. Take, for instance, the incident of Uriah and Bathsheba. Both this particular narrative and the document 3 in which 1 There is, of course, the general principle implied above, that absence of correspondence to nature and human nature makes against historicity. Therefore such correspondence is a preliminary condition for our “ veri¬ similitude,” but of itself it does not constitute the verisimilitude that is a test of historical accuracy. A positive principle may be stated thus : A narrative is probably historical if it is true to nature, and also is such that it would not have been invented. 2 We ignore (a) the Psalms, on account of the difficulty of establishing the Davidic authorship of any given Psalm ; and (b) Chronicles, because the author had little or no information derived from early sources about David beyond what he found in Samuel. Our two Books of Samuel were originally a single work. 3 2 Sam. ix.-xx. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 23 it is found satisfy generally the negative test of verisimili¬ tude, i.e. none of the essential features are at variance with the intrinsic probabilities of life or with what we know of the circumstances of the period. But, as we have said, this is not absolutely conclusive. The narrative, reduced to a bare outline, is simply — a prince seduces the wife of one of his nobles, and has the injured husband murdered. This is clearly “ common form,” an incident of a type, at once familiar in real life and yet striking and dramatic. Such a type of incident might very well be used as a foundation for romantic stories. But, on the other hand, the currency of such stories is no reason why the incident should not have happened in connection with a particular prince, in this case David. Moreover, there is a special element of verisimilitude that establishes the general accuracy of the narrative. David was a national hero, and such a story would not have established itself as part of the tradition of Israel if it had not been sub¬ stantially true. David had his enemies, and then, as now, there were people eager to believe the grossest evil of sovereigns and great leaders on the flimsiest apology for evidence. But the story is too sympathetic with David to be a mere relic of malicious slander. Further, the compilers of the various editions of Samuel regarded David as a saint and hero ; they would not have preserved such a story if it had not been strongly attested. Take another feature of the story of David, the statement that he captured Jerusalem. This is clearly historical. There is abundant evidence that from the time of David onwards the city was held by the Israelites; and all that we know of the earlier period implies that Jerusalem was not in the possession of Israel before the time of David.1 There is nothing to suggest that Saul was ever in possession of Jerusalem. Clearly, therefore, the capture of the city falls early in the reign of David. 1 Judges i. 8 states that the Judahites took Jerusalem, burnt the city, and massacred the inhabitants. But such statements are quite at variance with the “ intrinsic probabilities ” indicated by what we know of the history. The verse is commonly regarded as a late addition. 24 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Let us go back to Moses, confining ourselves to the main features of his career — that he was a real person, the leader of Israelite tribes in their escape from Egypt, a prophet who brought about a new departure in the religion of Israel by arousing devotion and enthusiasm for Yahweh. How far can we be sure that such an account of Moses is historical ? Our information about Moses is derived 1 from the two older documents of the Pentateuch, the Jehovistic (J) and Elohistic (E) writers. Neither of these can be earlier than 900 b.c. ; the latest possible date for Moses, assum¬ ing him to be an historical character, is 1200 b.c. Thus, as far as data at present available are concerned, we cannot show that any of the narratives concerning Moses were recorded in writing till at least 300 years after his death. The accuracy of their statements, therefore, is a matter of verisimilitude. Taking the bare outline given above, there is nothing improbable. An outburst of religious fervour is often associated with rapid political and military progress, and a prophet may be at the same time a successful general and administrator, or, at any rate, war and government may be successfully carried on through the inspiration and authority of his religious prestige. Witness Mohammed and the various Mahdis of recent times. The subsequent history of Israel implies some such critical period as that associated with the name of Moses. The conquest of Canaan is most easily understood if we believe that the Israelite tribes had recently been seized by an access of religious enthusiasm. Hence a large and growing number of recent scholars accept the real existence of Moses as a religious and political leader. But in the present state of our information, this conclusion can only be regarded as highly probable. Let us go farther back — to Abraham. Our authorities are still the same two documents, not earlier than 900 b.c.2 1 Practically altogether, though if we were dealing with the matter exhaustively, there would be other minor items of evidence to he considered. 2 Gen. xiv., as a whole, has not yet been proved to be earlier than the Exile. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 25 If we assume Abraham to be an historical personage, we may fix his date, for the purposes of this discussion, at 2000 b.c. ; in such matters two or three centuries more or less make little difference. Here, therefore, the written record is separated from the period it refers to by about 1000 years. How then can we attain to any certainty about Abraham ? Compare parallel cases elsewhere. According to traditional dates, Homer wrote about 300 years after the siege of Troy; Livy about 700 years after Romulus and Remus; and the authorities (?) for King Arthur of the Round Table wrote within 400 years of the time when he is said to have lived. Again, much of Genesis is clearly folk-lore or tribal history in the form of personal narrative ; embedded amongst these there may be genuine reminiscences of the actual doings of real individuals. But how are we to disentangle them ? Some important criteria fail us here. For instance, the leading public acts of David may be accepted as necessary parts of the chain of cause and effect which make up the history of Israel and of the Ancient East. The person and doings of Abraham cannot be shown at present to stand in relation to the main stream of history. According to many Eastern analogies, Biblical, Arabian and others, the patriarchal genealogies are an artificial convention such as is commonly used for com¬ bining mythical personages into a connected scheme, and for expressing the political and racial relations of tribes. There is, however, a principle that may help us ; it would often, we imagine, be stated thus — Where no other satisfactory account can be given of the origin of a narrative, it may be concluded that it is sub¬ stantially historical, because that is the simplest, most natural, and most probable explanation of its existence. Some such principle, stated or implied, underlies a good deal of conservative reasoning. A liberal application of it leads to gratifying results and saves infinite trouble. Moreover, there is a measure of truth in it, which might be put thus — 26 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES The absence of any other satisfactory account of the origin of a narrative affords some ground for supposing that it has some foundation in facts. It is maintained by many critical scholars that none of the explanations of Abraham as other than an historical person are satisfactory. His name is not used, like Jacob or Israel, for the nation ; and there is little to indicate that he was a tribal deity. Moreover, the form shows that the name is of the type used to denote persons and not tribes or deities. Abram or Abraham is probably a variant of the familiar Abiram, current both in Israel and Babylonia. This last fact, of course, is not conclusive by itself. To adapt an argument of Gressmann’s in a recent article,1 Jack is a familiar personal name, but it does not follow that Jack the Giantkiller was a real person or that the account of his adventures is substantially historical. Folk-lore often attaches itself to imaginary persons bearing ordinary names; but there is still some force in the con¬ tention that no better explanation has been found for Abraham than his existence as a real individual. It is further maintained that it is quite reasonable to suppose that there arose in earlier times an outstanding personality, prophet and leader, a kind of earlier Moses, and that the deep impression he made upon the people secured the permanence of his name and reputation. The utmost weight must be given to the judgment of a group of sound and sane scholars, of whom Dr. Skinner is a leading representative. He expresses his view thus :2 4 4 Nothing forbids us to see in Abraham the first of that long series of prophets through whom God has communi¬ cated to mankind a saving knowledge of Himself. ... As we read the story, we may well trust the instinct which tells us that here we are face to face with a decisive act of the living God in history, and an act whose essential significance was never lost in Israelite tradition.” But there are difficulties. To the present writer there 1 Zeitschrift fur A. T. Wissenschaft. 2 Genesis Inter. Crit. Comm, xxvii. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 27 is a marked contrast between the Moses and the Abraham narratives in the earlier documents. The latter do not seem to ascribe to Abraham national significance as an outstanding personality who moulded the political and religious future of his people. His adventures are rather those of the typical nomad or semi-nomad. For instance, in reliance on a divine oracle he leaves his camping-ground for an unfamiliar destination; his wife being barren, he obtains issue from her maid ; but late in life an heir is born to him by his wife ; she and the maid quarrel, and the latter and her son are set adrift ; his wife is in danger of being taken from him by a foreign king ; she dies and is buried ; he arranges for the marriage of his son. All this seems to be, so to speak, domestic folk-lore rather than reminiscences of an epoch-making prince and prophet. Again, the current conservative views as to Abraham are associated with the synchronism between Abraham and Hammurabi (c. 2000 or 2100) and the dating of the Exodus about 1250, under Menephtah II. Neither the synchronism nor the date is certain. But for the moment, taking the general conservative position, we have an in¬ terval of at least 800 years between Abraham and Moses. We see no evidence that there existed during so long a period a continuous tribal organisation, ultimately develop¬ ing into Israel, which could preserve and transmit the Abrahamic tradition. Such a view seems at variance with our knowledge of the general life of the times, and with the shifting circumstances of nomadic life. It would be easier to defend the existence of Abraham as an historical person if we abandoned the synchronism with Hammurabi and the chronological system of the Pentateuch, and supposed that Genesis reflects the conditions of two or three centuries before the Exodus, and preserves reminiscences of some of the outstanding characters of that period. We are very far from asserting dogmatically that Abraham was not a real person ; but, as far as our present information goes, we feel bound to confess that we are driven, with great reluctance, to admit that the balance 28 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of probability seems against the presence of an element of personal history in the Abraham narratives. D. — Historical Certainty, Scope and Limits (a) The Area of Pr ob ability. — In Ancient History there are a great many matters as to which we can only arrive at varying degrees of probability. In the earlier periods, and in some others, authorities are few and meagre and are separated by long intervals from the events with which they deal ; so that the dividing line between history on the one hand, and folk-lore and mythology can only be drawn with a certain degree of probability, and it is equally difficult to distinguish personal history from tribal history thrown into the form of personal narrative. Thus, in the previous section, we have concluded that there is an important historical basis for the narratives concerning Moses ; but that there seems to be a balance of probability against the presence of an element of personal history in the stories about Abraham. In some periods we may be well informed as to the general course of events, and yet be uncertain as to par¬ ticular episodes. Take, for instance, the story of Elisha, the naughty boys and the bears. Authorities differ as to the age of the document in which it is found, it may be post-exilic. It is entirely uncorroborated, and has no necessary connection with any established historical facts. Any conclusion as to the historicity of such incidents can only be probable. Again, we may accept a narrative as substantially historical, and yet be uncertain as to many of its details. Unfortunately names, dates, figures, the wording of speeches, are specially liable to alteration in the reporting of incidents and the transmission of records. The conversa¬ tion between David and his courtiers after the death of his first child by Bathsheba 1 occurs as part of a narrative which is substantially correct, in a document of great 1 2 Sam. xii. 21 if. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 29 historical value; the conversation bears marks of veri¬ similitude, David’s conduct and his explanation of it seem original and unexpected. The detail is probably historical ; but we doubt whether we can formally claim that it is certain. The idea of such a development might come by a flash of inspiration to a story-teller with the dramatic gift. It is difficult to exclude altogether the bare possi¬ bility of such an origin of these details. (b) The Certainty of Particular Events. — Nevertheless, as we have tried to show, we can be certain as to many of the leading features of Old Testament history, the real existence of outstanding public personalities, David, Isaiah, etc., the reality of their public acts, such as the capture of Jerusalem and the building of the Temple; and, in some instances, e.g. David, Ahab, Jehoiakim, etc., the general impression which such personalities made upon their friends or their enemies. In the case of the great prophets, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, we learn to know the real man from the self-revelation of himself in his preaching. These general results are not seriously affected by the uncertainty of some items of information. Details of action and speech attributed to a man may be inaccurate as particular events; he may not have done or said just this thing on the special occasion in question ; but they will as a rule convey a true idea of the way in which he usually spoke or acted. Similar considerations apply to important events. Thus, for long periods of the history we are practically certain as to the general relations of Israel to its inter¬ national environment, as to the main course of events, and the parts played by political and religious leaders. This is specially true for the great age of Revelation from Amos to the close of the Exile, and again, for the time of Ezra and Nehemiah. We have an assured framework into which we can fit the various stages of development of the religion. (c) Manners , Customs and Institutions. — Fortunately the difficulties that exist as to particular events are immensely reduced when we come to manners, customs 30 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES and institutions. As to these the bare mention is usually conclusive proof of their existence at one time or another. More especially the customs, offices and institutions, etc., which are implied or taken for granted must clearly have existed. A casual reference is often stronger evidence than an elaborate description, the latter may be a work of the imagination. But even in an imaginary narrative a writer, especially an ancient writer, does not ^vent details which he takes for granted, and which ha/ve no special bearing upon any of the objects — didactic, homiletic or theological — with which his work is written. Thus, whatever view we take of the character of some of the Elisha narratives as to particular events, they show con¬ clusively that in Israel a man’s family might be sold for his debts and boys were sometimes very impertinent. Laws, again, are mostly evidence of the prevalence of the practices which they forbid, though there are excep¬ tions ; the presence in the Prayer Book of a prohibition of marriage with one’s grandmother does not show that such a practice was ever common. But brief primitive codes did not revel in amplifications. In many cases laws are clearly directed against actual abuses, e. g. idolatry, child- sacrifice, witchcraft. Again, positive ordinances are often the record and confirmation of existing customs, the Book of the Cove¬ nant 1 is largely of this character, and affords valuable evidence as to the social conditions of Israel under the early monarchy. Here, too, there are exceptions ; the existence of a posi¬ tive law does not always show that the practice it prescribes was ever actually observed. Many laws are abortive, and some of those in Leviticus and Deuteronomy are pious ideals ; possibly even their authors hardly expected them to be enforced. The law of release in Deut. xv. may be cited as an example. Nevertheless, there is a considerable mass of legislation which certainly corresponds to actual usage. 1 Exod. xx. 22-xxiii. 19. HISTORICAL VALUE OF OLD TESTAMENT 31 There is another difficulty as to these general circum¬ stances. It is easy to prove their existence, but it is not always easy to fix the period when they existed; partly because the dates of documents are sometimes uncertain ; partly because an author may write the story of the remote past in terms of the manners and customs of his own age. Chronicles, for instance, describes the public worship of the monarchy in terms of the post-exilic organisation of the Temple ritual and priesthood. As a rule, our information as to Israel is full enough to enable us to determine a writer’s method in such matters. But here and there we may be uncertain; Kings, for instance, speaks of a high priest under the monarchy ; we are not sure whether the distinctive office and title existed before the return from the Exile. A measure of uncertainty as to date is often a minor matter. In the Ancient East customs remained un¬ changed for centuries or even millenniums. There was an interval of more than a thousand years between the Code of Hammurabi and the Book of the Covenant, and yet they have much in common. Some of the customs referred to in the narratives of the patriarchs are said to be still observed in the East. In many cases, if we meet with a custom at any one point of the historical periods of the Old Testament, we may conclude that it existed throughout. Thus the Old Testament furnishes us with pictures of life in ancient Israel which we may accept without reserve. ( d ) Ideas. — In the case of ideas there is an even more absolute certainty than in that of external circumstances. Thus M. Seignobos writes,1 44 Every conception which is expressed in writing or by illustrative representation is in itself a definite unimpeachable fact. That which is expressed must have first been present in the mind of some one — if not in that of the author, who may have reproduced a formula he did not understand, then in the mind of the man who originated the formula. The 1 Langlois and Seignobos, op. cit., p. 191. 32 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES existence of a conception may be learnt from a single instance and proved from a single document.” Thus the presence in the Old Testament of some pro¬ found spiritual truth is absolute proof that some one had the idea. We would venture to add that it is also certain that behind the expression of such a truth lies a spiritual experience of God revealing Himself to man. The Higher Criticism enables us to date much of the literature and, thus, to trace the development of religion, and the stages of Divine Revelation and human receptive¬ ness. But where dates are uncertain, the supreme fact of the existence of the ideas remain ; and in any case they are pre-Christian and form part of the preparation for the Gospel. All this is often cavalierly brushed aside as obvious, as if it were therefore trivial and negligible; whereas it is the thing that really matters. We only care about particular events and external circumstances because they are the setting of Revelation. And yet the public attention is distracted by a tempest of sound and fury about com¬ paratively unimportant matters like the historical existence of Abraham, or trivialities like Jonah’s great fish; and they are seldom reminded that the great treasures of spiritual truth are safe beyond all controversy. But, to descend to details, it is useful to remember that a narrative may not be historical, but yet it will express moral and spiritual ideas, and these may be elements of revelation. In the same way such ideas may be expressed in laws which are never carried out. Moreover, uncertainty as to date or authorship does not seriously affect the value of this teaching. The truths are here because real men believed in them; they are a fruit of personal spiritual experience. As we take these truths to our hearts we enter into fellowship with men of old in their most inspired moments. It does not much matter whether we know their names and the external circumstances of their lives ; it might be interesting to know these things, but our ignorance does not make the truth HISTORICAL VALUE OE OLD TESTAMENT (33 less human and personal. It would be gratifying if we could be certain that David wrote the Twenty-third Psalm, but, in any case, it is the record of a great spiritual experi¬ ence of a man who was familiar alike with green pastures and still waters, with the shadow of death, and with the cruelty and malice of man, and who discovered that a Divine Presence was with him under these circumstances as well as in the Temple. It will always remain the classical expression of such experience. The lines of argument suggested and illustrated in this essay point to the conclusion that there is the kind and degree of historical certainty which we need for purposes of edification. There is a body of revealed truth coming to us through personal experience excited by contact with the Divine Spirit, commending itself to souls also responsive to the divine appeal. Our intellectual needs are provided for by an adequate framework of historical facts, and by a sufficiently full and clear background of external circum¬ stances D ESSAY II THE YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI ON THE BOOK OF JONAH RENDERED INTO ENGLISH, WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES Rev. Prof. A. W. Greenup, D.D., Litt.D., M.A. SYNOPSIS I. Introduction. Character of the Yalkut ha-Makiri. Extent of the Work. Date and Nationality of the Compiler. Importance of the Work. The MS. of the Yalkut on the Minor Prophets. II. Translation of the Yalkut on the Book of Jonah, with notes. THE YALKUT OF R. MACH I R BAR ABBA MARI ON THE BOOK OF JONAH The Yalkut ha-Makiri is a work similar in character and purpose to the well-known Yalkut Shimeoni,1 but does not cover, like the latter, all the canonical books of the Old Testament. The only extant portions are those on the Psalms (ed. Buber, Berdychev, 1899), Isaiah (ed. Spira, Berlin, 1894), Proverbs (ed. Gruenhut, Jerusalem, 1902), and the Minor Prophets (ed. Greenup, Hosea and Zeehariah, 1909, Amos to Habakkuk, 1910); but we learn from the compiler’s preface that his work extended to the books of Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Job, and possibly it was his intention to include also the earlier and later historical books. The omission of the Pentateuch and the Megilloth from his plan may be accounted for by the fact that the Midrash Rabbah already contained such material as he wished to gather together for the remaining books of the Old Testament. The preface to his work (given in the MSS. of Psalms and Isaiah, and doubtless originally prefixed to the other books) 2 gives us the reason for the undertaking of the work — the collection of the haggadic sentences which illustrate the Scriptures under their appropriate verses ; a list of the works consulted for the purpose ; and a modest commen¬ dation of his work to students : but we have no indication whatever of the date or nationality of the compiler. No light is thrown on these from those parts of the work extant. The name Abba Mari points to Provence, and the long line of ancestors given by the compiler, who describes 1 Cf. the testimony of Azulai in Shem ha-Gedolim , ii. 10-57. 2 A critical edition of this may be found in my ,*TH3T “1CD by ’H'ODn v' (London, 1*000), pp. 4-0. 37 38 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES himself as Machir b. Abba Mari, b. Machir, b. Todros, b. Machir, son of R. Joseph b. Abba Mari, would seem to indicate that he came of an important family. Possibly he is a descendant of the Machir who came from Babylonia to Narbonne in the time of Charlemagne.1 The only clue to the date lies in a note to the Leyden Codex containing Isaiah, which states that that MS. was sold in 1415. The Harleian Codex of the Minor Prophets was written in 1514, and was evidently copied from an ancient manuscript, as the copyist in two places speaks of missing leaves as having perished through old age. Shab- bethai b. Joseph Bass, the founder of Jewish bibliography, in his SiftS Yeshenim (i. 42) mentions, from an unknown source, that 44 the Yalkut ha-Makiri was composed before the persecutions in Spain ; ” so that we may take 1391 as a terminus ad quern for our work. The attempt of Dr. M. G aster to claim a high antiquity for the work and to make it the source of the second part of the Yalkut Shi- meoni was refuted on cogent grounds by Dr. A. Epstein, and has not been revived by any scholar.2 It is certain from the fact that Exodus Rabbah and Bemidar Rabbah are freely cited by Machir, and were unknown to the com¬ piler of the Yalkut Shimeoni, that the latter preceded the former by at least a century. The question arises, Did Machir know the work of his predecessor ? To this a negative answer must be given, since in his introduction Machir explains the title 44 Yalkut ” as if he were the inventor of it and as being a novelty.3 Our surprise at the Yalkut Shimeoni being unknown to him is lessened when we learn that even the Pesikta Rabbathi, from which he could have derived so much relevant material, was unknown to him. The importance of the Yalkut ha-Makiri, apart from its preservation of fragments of lost Midrashim, lies in its value for purposes of textual criticism. This was recognised 1 Neubauer, Med. Chron. i. 82 ; Jewish Encycl. ix. 169. 2 Revue des etudes Juives , xxv. 44 -64, xxvi. 75-82. 3 Oil smon |D miN mtspb o nsspn nw 'nam YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 39 first by David Luria, who in his great edition of the Pirqe Rabbi Eliezer used the manuscript of the Psalms formerly in the possession of Straschoun; and in our own time by Theodor in his edition of the Midrash Bereshith Rabbalu and by Schechter in his Avoth de Rabbi Nathan. It is evident that of several of the Midrashim he quotes Machir had more than one manuscript and that different recensions of the texts were represented. No one who wishes to in¬ vestigate the textual problems of the Yalkut Shimeoni can afford to neglect the light thrown on them by a comparison of texts with those of the Machiri. Of peculiar interest are the quotations from the lost Yelammedenu, which open up the question of the relation of this work to the Tanhuma published by Buber and that first published at Constantinople in 1522, usually cited as “Midrash Tan¬ huma.” 1 The unique manuscript of the Yalkut ha-Makiri on the Minor Prophets, now in the British Museum,2 dated, as mentioned above, in 1514, was written at Tivoli in Italy for the Cardinal Aegidius, general of the Augustinians, patron and pupil of Levita. Unfortunately it is incom¬ plete; the greater part of Hosea is missing and also some pages in the later prophets. The colophon is of interest as containing the date in the common era — a rare occur¬ rence in Hebrew colophons, and confined to Italian manu¬ scripts — following the year of the Creation, the reckoning of the latter being in the “ perat katon ” (274). 3 THE BOOK OF JONAH NOW THE WORD OF THE LORD CAME UNTO JONAH, SAYING, i. 1. The story of R. Levi 4 and R. Judah the son of Simon Sue. Jer. (Nahman), who received alternately two selas 5 to go v' 1 See Revue des etudes Juives, xiii. 224 if. , xl. 284 ; Gruenhut, Proverbs , pp. 9-16. 2 Margoliouth, Catalogue, ii. pp. 8-5. 3 See Jewish Encycl. viii. 814. 4 Probably a pupil of 11. Hana b. Hanuia, many of whose utterances lie quotes. 6 A sela is a coin equivalent to one sacred or two common shekels, 40 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES around and call the congregation together before R. Johanan.1 It. Levi came in and taught, Jonah the son of Amittai was of Asher, for it is written, “ Asher did not drive out the inhabitants of Ekron,2 nor the inhabitants of Zidon ” (Judges i. 31) ; and it is written, “Arise, get thee to Zarephath, which belongeth to Zidon ” (1 Kings xvii. 19). R. Johanan came in and taught, Jonah the son of Amittai was of Zebu- lun, for it is written, “ And the third lot came up for the children of Zebulun according to their families ” (Joshua xix. 10) ; and it is written, “And from thence it passed along eastward to Gath-hepher, to Ethkazin ” (ibid. 13) ; and it is written, “According to the word of the Lord, the God of Israel, which he spake by the hand of his servant Jonah, the son of Amittai, which was of Gath-hepher ” (2 Kings xiv. 25). The following Sabbath R. Levi said to Judah b. Nahman, Take these selas, go around and call the congre¬ gation together before R. Johanan. He came in and said before them, R. Johanan has taught us well that Jonah’s mother was of Asher, but his father of Zebulun 3 — “ and his border shall reach Zidon ” (Gen. xlix. 13), that is, the side from which he is to issue will be Zidon.4 Erubin, 96. Michal, the daughter of Saul, was in the habit of laying the tefillin,5 and the wise men did not try to prevent her ; and the wife of Jonah was in the habit of going up to keep the three festivals,0 nor did the wise men try to prevent her. And so in Mekilta ( Ba , 17). But in the treatise Berachoth of the Jerusalem Talmud, R. ILezekiah, in the name of R. Abhu, says that the wife of Jonah was turned back home, and that the wise men prevented Michal wearing the tefillin. 1 For tlie purpose of listening to his lecture. 2 The Massoretic text has Acco (l^p). :! See Gen. R. 98. 11 ; Yaik. Shim. Jon. 550. 4 A reference is found here to the extraction of Jonah. 5 The phylacteries tied on the arm and head. Dent. vi. 8, xi. 18. The technical term for putting them on was “to lay them” ITOnS). Women, slaves and children were exempt from wearing them ( Ber . Jer. § 3) : also professional writers of phylacteries (Sue. 26 a), on the ground that he who is engaged on the performance of one precept is exempt from the performance of another ! 6 Which it was not incumbent on women to do. YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 41 R. Jonah said, Jonah the son of Amittai (VIES) was a San. .Ter. xi 5 prophet of truth (HEN), as you find when God said to him Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city. He said, I know that the Gentiles are on the point of t 2. repenting. Lo ! if I go and preach to them and they repent, the Holy One will come and punish Israel.1 And what should I do but flee ? So we read, 44 Jonah rose up to flee to Tarshish,” etc. R. Johanan said, All the prophets were rich men. Where Nedar. 38. do you find this ? From Moses, Samuel, Amos and Jonah. See the commentary on the verse in Amos, 44 And Amos answered and said to Amaziah ” (Amos vii. 14), where it is said that Jonah was rich, since it is written of him, 44 He paid the fare thereof, and went down into it ” (Jonah i. 3). R. Johanan said that he paid the full fare of the ship ; and R. Merinos 2 said that the ship’s fare was no less than four thousand gold denars. 44 Lo ! the man is become as one of us ” (Gen. iii. 22) — as Ber Rab. one of the ministering angels. R. Simeon b. Lakish said, ' Like Jonah, for it is said, 44 And one was felling the beam ” (2 Kings vi. 5). 3 As Jonah was fleeing from obeying God’s command, so also was [Adam] : as Jonah’s glory did not abide with him, neither did Adam’s.4 But Jonah rose up to flee unto Tarshish from the i. 3. PRESENCE OF THE LORD. Could he, then, flee from the Lord ? Is it not already Mekii. Ba. said, 44 Whither shall I go from thy spirit ? if I go up into heaven thou art there,” etc. (Ps. cxxxix. 7, f.). But Jonah said, I will get me outside the Holy Land where the She- 1 Lit. “ haters of Israel ” — a substituted expression O’lPD) for “ Israel.” “I11 the printed text of the Talmud, Romanos. See Hyman, To/. Tan. ve Am. iii. 1907. 3 The argument ( Gezerah shawah) is based on the use of u one” in both passages. 4 See Theodor’s valuable note on Ber. Rab. p. 201. According to Shah. Jer. Adam was the light of the world, but sin deprived him of all glory. 42 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Sifri, Shoph. Sue. Jer. v. 1. kinah does not rest, for it is clear that the Gentiles are on the point of repentance that Israel be not condemned. The matter is like to a priest’s servant who, fleeing from his master, went to a burial-ground where he could not be followed. He said to his master, I have slaves, like you. So Jonah said, I will get me outside the Holy Land, where the Shekinah is not manifested. God said to him, I have many messengers like you; for it is said, “ And the Lord hurled a great wind into the sea ” (Jonah i. 4). There were three prophets, — one considered the honour of the father and of the son ; one that of the father, but not that of the son ; one that of the son, but not that of the father. Jeremiah considered both, for it is said, 44 We have transgressed and have rebelled; thou hast not pardoned” (Lam. iii. 42): therefore his prophecy was doubled, for it is said, 4 4 And there were added besides unto them many like words ” (Jer. xxxvi. 32). Elijah considered that of the father only, for it is said, 44 I have been very jealous for the Lord ” (1 Kings xix. 10). Jonah considered that of the son only, for it is said of him, 44 And the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time ” (Jonah iii. 1) : the Lord did not hold communion with him a third time. Three classes of men meet their death by the hand of God : — he who suppresses his prophecy, like Jonah the son of Amittai ; he who adds to the words of a prophet, like the companion of Mi call ; and a prophet who transgresses the words of his own prophecy, like Iddo.1 44 And he went down to Joppa.” It would have sufficed to say, And he went down to Acco.2 R. Jonah said, Jonah went up to the feasts, and he entered with the joyous procession to the well from which the water was drawn for libation on the Succoth festival,3 and the Holy Spirit rested on him, to teach you that the Holy Spirit does not 1 See Sanhed. 89 a. 2 The nearest harbour to Zarepliath. An allusion to Jonah’s paternal origin from Zebulun. 3 See Gen. Hah. 70. The pipes were played on this occasion, and the sages said, “ lie who has not witnessed the rejoicings at the water-drawing has never in his life known what real rejoicing is,” YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 43 rest but on a joyful heart. What is the reason ? 1 — 4 4 And it came to pass, when the minstrel played, that the Spirit of the Lord came upon him ” (2 Kings iii. 15). On the fifth day Jonah fled from before the Lord his God. Pirke r. FI iezfcr 10 Why ? The first time when God sent him to restore (the coast of) Israel his words were confirmed, for it is said, 44 He restored the coast of Israel ” (2 Kings xiv. 25). The second time He sent him to Jerusalem to destroy it, but the Holy One, after his great mercy and loving-kindness, repented him of the evil and did not destroy it; so Israel called Jonah a lying prophet. The third time He sent him to Nineveh to destroy it. Jonah argued with himself, I know that the Gentiles are on the point of repenting ; and if now they repent God will send his wrath on Israel, so that not only Israel but the Gentiles also will call me a lying prophet ; lo ! I will flee from before God to the place where his glory is not. Shall I mount to heaven ? It is said, 44 His glory is above the heavens ” (Ps. cxiii. 4). Shall I remain on the earth ? How can that be, for it is written, 44 The whole earth is full of his glory ! ” (Isa. vi. 3). Lo ! I must flee to the sea, for it is not written that his glory is there. But the Lord hurled a great wind into the sea. i. 4. 44 When he maketh a weight for the wind ” (Job xxviii. vayyik. 25). R. Huna said, In three places is it stated that the wind went forth without restraint and nearly destroyed the whole world — once in the days of Job, once in those of Jonah, and once in those of Elijah. In the days of Job, for it is said, 44 And lo ! there came a great wind from the wilderness ” (Job i. 19) ; in those of Jonah, for it is said, 44 The Lord hurled a great wind into the sea ” ; in those of Elijah, for it is said, 44 And lo ! the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks ” (1 Kings xix. 11). R. Judan b. Shalom said, The wind of Job is the same as that of Jonah, that of Elijah the same as that of Job : that of Job was on account 1 Of the law iu the Mishua, as to the playing- of the pipes. 44 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES i. 5 Pirke R. Eliezer, 10. i. 12. Mekil. £a. i. 15. Y elaraednu iTanft. Vay- yesh. 3]. of the house, that of Jonah on account of a ship.1 There remains that of Elijah : (this was universal), for it is written, 44 Go, and stand in the mountain.” 2 . Then the mariners were afraid, and cried every man UNTO HIS GOD. R. Hanina said, There were seventy languages there in the ship, and each man carried his own idol and god in his hand; and they said, The god who shall answer and deliver us from this present distress, he is the true god. And he said to them, Take me up and hurl me into the SEA. R. Nathan said, Jonah went only to destroy himself in the sea, for it is said, 44 And he said to them, Take me up and hurl me into the sea.” And so you find that the fathers and the prophets were ready to give up their lives for Israel. Of Moses it is written, 44 Yet now, if thou wilt forgive their sin : — and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book ” (Exod. xxxii. 32) : and again, 44 And if thou deal thus with me, kill me, I pray thee, out of hand ” (Num. xi. 15). Of David it is written, 44 Let thy hand, I pray thee, be against me and my father’s house ” (1 Chron. xxi. 17). And so you find everywhere that the fathers were ready to give up their lives for Israel. So THEY TOOK UP JONAH AND HURLED HIM INTO THE SEA. The Scripture says, 44 How great are thy works, O Lord ! ” (Ps. xcii. 5). R. Simeon b. Yohai said, There are creatures which are reared in the sea and not on dry land, and vice versa. If those reared in the sea are put on dry land they will not live : so if those reared on dry land are brought down into the sea they will not live. Yet Jonah went down to the sea and lived, for it is said, 44 They took up 1 These, then, were not sent to destroy the world, but were confined to places where they had to do their particular work of destruction. 2 See Koheleth Hub. i. 6, YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 45 Jonah and hurled him into the sea ” ; and the fish went up to the dry land and lived, for it is said, “ And the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land ” (Jonah ii. 10). What did they do ? They took up Jonah and stood by Pirke R. the sides of the ship and said, O eternal God ! bring not on us innocent blood, for we know not what is the character of this man who says, Because of me has all this evil befallen you. Then they threw him into the sea up to his ankles, and the sea ceased from its raging. They took him into the ship again, and the sea became tempestuous. They again threw him in up to his navel, and the raging of the sea ceased. On their taking him into the ship, the sea again became tempestuous. At last they threw him in altogether, and the raging of the sea ceased, as it is written, “ So they took up Jonah and hurled him into the sea, and the sea ceased from its raging.” Then the men feared the Lord exceedingly. i. ie. They returned to Joppa and went up to Jerusalem, where gjv^zc9^10 they were circumcised ; for it is said, “ And the men feared [the Lord] exceedingly,” etc. And they offered a sacrifice. But did they indeed offer a sacrifice, since it is written that sacrifices are not received from the Gentiles ? 1 But they circumcised themselves : and the blood of circumcision is as good as the blood of sacrifice. And they made vows. They vowed and resolved to dedicate their children and all their belongings to the God of Jonah, and of them it is said, (May thy blessing rest) on the righteous and on true proselytes. 1 See Sifru, p. 98 a (ed. Weiss), and the note in Friedmann’s Pesik. Rab. p. 192 a. 46 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES ii. 1 Nodar. 51. Pirke R. Eliezer, 10. Mid. Sam¬ uel, 4. And the Lord prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah. There is a Baraitha,1 2 * R. Simeon b. Elazar said, If one says “ Them (4 fish,’ singular) which I taste,” he is forbidden to taste large fish and permitted to taste small ones : but if he says 44 The nn (fern, of m) which I taste,” he is for¬ bidden to taste small fish and permitted to taste large ones ; if he says 21 and nm he is forbidden both large and small. R. Papa said to Abayi, How do you know that the fish (m) which I taste is a large one ? Since it is written, 44 And the Lord prepared a great fish (21) to swallow up Jonah.” But it is also written, 44 And Jonah prayed unto the Lord out of the belly of the fish (nm).” There is no difficulty about this, since it may be a great fish vomited him and a small fish swallowed him. In another passage, 44 And the fish (nm) that was in the river died” (Exod. vii. 21), is it necessary to suppose that the little fish died but not the large ones, (since has the meaning of “small fish ”) ? Of course it means that both kinds died. In vows, however, the ordinary rules of speech are followed (21 of large, nm of small fish). R. Simeon said, That fish was prepared from the six days of creation to swallow up Jonah. He went into its mouth as easily as a man enters into the Great Synagogue.12 The two eyes of the fish were like glass windows which gave light to Jonah like the sun when it shineth at noon, so that he saw whatever was in the sea and in the depths, for it is said, 44 Light is sown for the righteous ” (Ps. xcvii. 11). There is prayer which is answered after a hundred years, as in the case of Abraham, 44 And Abraham was a hundred years old” (Gen. xxi. 5); after ninety, as in the case of Sarah, “And shall Sarah, that is ninety years old, bear ? ” (Gen. xvii. 17) ; after eighty, as in the case of Moses, 44 And Moses was eighty years old ” (Exod. vii. 7); after seventy, 1 A Baraitha is a taimaite tradition not incorporated in the Mishna. See note in Streane’s Chagigah, p. 147. 2 See Zohar, Bishloa\ i, 48, and the note of R. David Luria on P. R.E. in loc. YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 47 for it is said, “ After seventy years be accomplished for Babylon” (Jer. xxix. 10); after sixty, as in the case of Isaac, 44 And Isaac was sixty years old when she bare them ” (Gen. xxv. 26) ; after fifty, as in the case of Samuel, 44 That he may abide there for ever ” (1 Sam. i. 22) — and there is no 44 for ever ” of the Levites but fifty years, for it is written, 44 And from the age of fifty years they shall cease waiting upon the work ” (Num. viii. 25) ; the number of years is really fifty-two, but as R. Jose said, the two years of weaning are not reckoned.1 There is prayer which is answered at forty years, as in the case of Isaac, 4 ‘And Isaac was forty years old ” (Gen. xxv. 20) ; at thirty, as in the case of Joseph, 44 And Joseph was thirty years old ” {ibid. xli. 46) ; at twenty, as in the case of Jacob, 44 These twenty years have I been in thy house ” {ibid. xxi. 41); after ten days, as in the case of Jeremiah, 44 And it came to pass after ten days ” (Jer. xlii. 7) ; after seven days, as in the case of Miriam, 44 And Miriam was shut up seven days ” (Num. xii. 15) ; after three days, as in the case of Jonah, 44 And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days.” There is prayer, too, which has no opportunity of utterance till it is answered, for it is said, 44 And the Lord said unto Moses, Wherefore criest thou unto me ? speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward ” (Exod. xiv. 15). 44 The birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea, and Mid. Timm, whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas” (Ps. viii. 9). The birds of the heavens — this is Elijah, who goes around the world like a bird,2 for it is said, 44 And the ravens were bringing to him bread and flesh ” (1 Kings xvii. 10) : the fish of the sea — this is Jonah, for it is said, 44 And Jonah was in the bowels of the fish ” : whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas — this is Israel, for it is said, 44 And the children of Israel walked upon dry land in the midst of the sea” (Exod. xiv. 29). 44 And it came to pass on the third day, that Esther put Mid. Bather on her royal apparel ” (Esther v. 1). The children of Israel 1 See Mid. Sam. ii. 9 (ed. Buber). 2 See Targum on Koh. x. 20 ; Bcr. 4 b. 48 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES are never given over to distress for more than three days. In the case of Abraham it is written, “And it came to pass on the third day that Abraham lifted up his eyes and saw the place afar off ” (Gen. xxii. 4); in that of the brethren of Joseph, “And he put them in ward three days” (ibid. xlii. 17); in that of Jonah, “ And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days.” ii. 3. And he said, I called out of my affliction unto the Loud, etc. Erubin, 19. Pirke R. Eliezer, 10. R. Elazar said, There are three gates to Gehenna, one in the wilderness, one in the sea, and one in Jerusalem. One in the wilderness, for it is written, “ And they went down, they and all that belonged to them, to Sheol ” (Num. xvi. 33) ; one in the sea, for it is written, “ From the belly of Sheol did I cry ” ; and one in Jerusalem, for it is written, “ Whose fire is in Zion, and his furnace in Jerusalem ” (Isa. xxxi. 9). A student of the school of R. Ishmael taught “ Whose fire is in Zion ” — this is Gehenna; “ and his furnace in Jerusalem ” — this is the gate of Gehenna. R. Joshua b. Levi said, Gehenna has seven names, which are, Sheol, Abaddon, pit of corruption, pit of horror, mire of clay, shadow of death, and the subterranean world. Sheol, for it is written, “From the belly of Sheol did 1 cry ” ; Abaddon, for it is said, “ Thy faithfulness in Abad¬ don ” (Ps. lxxxviii. 12) 1 ; pit of corruption, for it is said, “ Thou wilt not suffer thine holy one to see corruption ” (ibid. xvi. 10); pit of horror and mire of clay, for it is written, “ And he brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay ” (ibid. xl. 1) ; shadow of death, for it is written, “ Those that sit in darkness and the shadow of death ” (ibid. cvii. 10) ; the subterranean world — this name is a mere tradition. Are there no others ? It is called also Gehenna. And he showed him Gehenna, for it is written, “ From the belly of Sheol I cried out.” 1 See marginal rendering of R.V. VALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 4!) To the first 1 he shall add, May he who answered Abraham Than. Jcr. ii» 4» our father, etc. [answer you] ! to the second, May he who answered our fathers, etc. ; to the third, May he who answered Joshua, etc. ; to the fourth, May he who answered Samuel, etc. ; to the fifth, May he who answered Elijah, etc. ; to the sixth, May he who answered Jonah in the bowels of the fish answer you and hearken to your cry on this day. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who answerest in the time of distress and savest. It is written of Jonah, 44 I called out of my affliction,” etc. These additional prayers should mention David and Solomon before Elijah and Jonah ; but David and Solomon are mentioned out of chronological order so as to close with the benediction, Thou who hast compassion on the land ! To the seventh 2 he shall add, May he who answered David and Solomon his son, etc. [Blessed art thou who hast compassion on the land !] Eor thou didst cast me into the depth, in the heart a. 4. OF THE SEAS. Jonah went down to one depth, for it is said, 44 Thou didst cast me into the depth (riVm).” The Egyptians went down into two, for it is said, 44 They went down into the depths (mVm) like a stone” (Exod. xv. 5). And there are no depths but mighty waters, for it is said, 44 Thou didst cast me into the depth, — the heart of the seas.” When Hadrian, king of Rome, had conquered the world, he went to Rome and said to his courtiers, I wish you to make me a god, for I have conquered the world. They said to him, But thou hast not yet ruled over God’s house and city. He went, and with God's permission, destroyed the sanctuary and took Israel captive. On his return to Rome he said, Make me a god, for I have destroyed God’s house and burnt his temple-palace and have taken captive his people. R. Berachiah said, He had three philosophers Mekilta, Bishloahy 5. Yelamednu [TanJiuraa, Bnesh. 71. 1 On the seven last fast days the minister is directed to say the eighteen blessings of the daily prayer (Amidah), and to add six more. 2 This blessing is called the seventh as being the seventh in which additional matter is introduced, for the first blessing ending ^TJ*' bNU (the Birkath ha-Gc’ullah) is one of the eighteen blessings of the Amidah. K / 50 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES there. The first said to him, No one rebels against a king when he is in his palace, but only outside it ; go out from God’s palaces and thou shalt be made a god: He created the heavens and the earth ; go out from them and thou shalt be made a god. The second said to him, You cannot, for already it is said, “ The gods that have not made the heaven and the earth shall perish from the earth and from under the heavens ” (Jer. x. 11). The third said to him, I pray you help me at this time. He said, How ? He answered, I have a ship three miles away tossing in the sea and all my treasures are there. Hadrian said, I will send my legions and ships to rescue them. He answered, But why trouble ? send but a little wind, and you can rescue them. He said, Whence have I a wind to send ? He answered, If you cannot send the wind (mnn), how will you make yourself a god, for it is written, “ Thus saith the Lord, he that created the heavens . . . that giveth breath unto the people upon it, and spirit (Pin) to them that walk therein ” ? (Isa. xlii. 5). When he returned to his house angry, his wife said to him, These people have deceived you into thinking you can be made a god since you are a powerful and rich king and have everything in your possession. I advise you to give back to God his deposit, and so be made a god. He said to her, And what is the deposit ? She answered, The soul. He said, If the soul go forth what can I do ? She answered, You cannot rule the soul within you, for it is written, “ There is no man that hath power over the spirit to retain the spirit, neither hath he power over the day of death ” (Eccles. viii. 8). How canst thou be made a god, since you are but a man ? God said, I revive the dead; Elijah revived the dead, yet he did not say, I am God. God said, I bring down rains; Elijah brought down rains. God said, I restrain rains; so did Elijah, for it is said, “ There shall be neither dew nor rain ” (1 Kings xvii. 1). God said, I brought downfireand brimstone; so, too, Elijah, for it is said, “ If I be a man of God, let fire come down from heaven” (2 Kingsi.10). Yet, though Elijah made no such claim, thou sayest, I am God. But if you say that you have YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 51 lived long; Elijah lives unto the resurrection. It is written of God, 44 His throne was fiery flames ” (Dan. vii. 9) ; and of Elijah, 44 And lo ! a chariot of fire and horses of fire ” (2 Kings ii. 11). It is written of God, 44 The Lord hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm” (Nahum i. 3) ; Elijah went up in a whirlwind to heaven, yet he requested that he might die. But you say, 44 I am a god, and sit in the seat of God, in the heart of the seas ” (Ezek. xxviii. 2). Jonah went down into the sea, for it is said, 44 Thou didst cast me into the depth, in the heart of the seas.” He returned and said, 44 And now, 0 Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from me ” (Jonah iv. 3). Yet thou sayest, I am a god. . . . The fish said to Jonah, Do you not know that I have come to be devoured by Leviathan ? Jonah said, Take me to him, and I will deliver both thee and myself. Im¬ mediately he brought him to Leviathan. He said to him, I have come to see thy dwelling-place in the sea, and am about to put a rope on thy tongue and bring thee up to the great feast of the righteous.1 Jonah showed him the seal of Abraham our father, which when Leviathan saw he fled from Jonah a two days’ journey. Jonah said to the fish, I have delivered thee from the mouth of Leviathan, show me all that is in the sea and in the depths. So he showed him the great river of the waters of the ocean, for it is said, k4 And the flood was round about me ” ; and also the source whence the billows and waves of the sea come forth, for it is said, 44 All thy waves and thy billows passed over me.” Pii ke R. Eliezer, 10. The waters compassed me about, even to the soul, u.e. ETC. Jonah went down to one depth, for it is said, 44 The depth Metm*, 1 Bnhloah , 5, was round about me : the Egyptians went down to the 1 The flesh of the female Leviathan originally created by God was reserved for the feast of the righteous to be given at Messiah’s advent. See Baba Bathra, 74 a. Leviathan is prominent in liaggadie literature in connection with Messiah’s advent. See Levit. Rab. xiii. 3, Kohut, Aruch s-v- Pirke H. Eliezer, 10. ii. 7 Pirke R. Eliezer, 10. Tanl.mma, Vai/yafs, 7 (Buber). 52 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES depths, for it is said, “The deeps cover them” (Exod. xv. 5).1 The fish showed Jonah the paths of the sea (abounding in seaweed) through the midst of which Israel had passed, for it is said, “ The weeds were wrapped about my head.” I WENT DOWN TO THE BOTTOMS OF THE MOUNTAINS, ETC. lie showed him under the temple of God, for it is written, “ I went down to the bottoms of the mountains.” Whence we learn that Jerusalem stands on seven hills. And he saw there “the stone of foundation”2 fixed in the depths, and the sons of Korah standing and offering prayer upon it. They said to Jonah, Lo ! you are standing beneath the Temple ; pray and you shall be answered. Immediately he said to the fish, Stay where you are, for I desire to pray before God. He said, O Lord of all the worlds, thou art called One who br ingest down to Sheol and bringest up ; 3 lo ! I have come down, bring thou me up. Thou art called One who killest and makest alive ; lo ! mv soul hath reached to death, preserve me alive. But he was not answered till he said, What I have vowed I will pay in the day of Israel’s salvation ; for it is said, “ I will sacrifice unto thee with the voice of thanksgiving; I will pay that which I have vowed : salvation is of the Lord ” (Jonah ii. 9). Immediately God gave the fish a sign, and it vomited up Jonah on the dry land. And the fish showed Jonah the foundations of the earth in their defined places, for it is said, “ The earth with her bars was about me for ever.” He showed him also the nethermost Sheol, for it is said, “And thou didst bring up my life from the pit, O Lord my God.” “ And he dreamed, and lo ! a ladder set up on the earth ” (Gen. xxviii. 12). R. Simeon b. Elazar said, He showed it to Jonah, for it is said, “ I went down to the bottoms 1 See above on ii. 4. 2 See Pirke II. Eliezer , xxxv. (end) ; Moses de Leon, Shelf cl Hakkodesh (ed. Greenup), p. 95. 3 1 Sam. ii. 6. YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 53 of the mountains; the earth with her bars was about me for ever.” “ And the top of it reached to heaven ” (ibid.). He showed it to Elijah, for it is said, 44 And Elijah went up in the whirlwind to heaven ” (2 Kings ii. 12). When my soul fainted within me, etc. «. 8. 44 For the spirit (wind) should fail before me ” (Isa. lvii. Beresh.Rab. 10). R. Iiuna said, When the wind goes forth into the world, the Holy One breaks it up amongst the mountains and weakens its force amongst the hills, saying to it, Take care not to injure any of my creatures, for it is written, 44 For the spirit should fail before me.” What does 44 should fail ” mean ? — the wind gets tired, as it is written, 44 When my spirit fainted (grew tired) within me ” (Ps. cxlii. 3).1 They that regard lying vanities forsake their own u. o. MERCY. When the sailors saw all the signs, wonders and miracles Poke r. & Eliezer, 10. that God had done to Jonah they cast away every man his gods, for it is said, 44 They that regard lying vanities forsake their own mercy.” 2 But I WILL SACRIFICE UNTO THEE WITH THE VOICE OF ii. 10. THANKSGIVING, ETC. 44 Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving ” mm. Tuiim, • xcv. 1 (Ps. xcv. 1). Great is the power of thanksgiving, as Jonah says, 44 But I will sacrifice unto thee with the voice of thanksgiving, I will pay that which I have vowed.” 3 And the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out u. n. Jonah upon the dry land. 44 Who is as the Lord our God whensoever we call upon mm. Tiiiim, A xcv. 2. him ? ” (Deut. iv. 7). R. Judan says, A human being had a patron who was told that the son of his house had been 1 See Berach. J'er. ix. 3 ; Vayyik. Bab. 15. 2 IDn being interpreted as “god.” See Kimchi on Jonah ii. 9. See Pirke R. Eliezer , c. 10, and Ya/k. Mach, on Jonah ii. 7* 54 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Beresh.Rab. v. 5. Beresli.Rab. xx. 3. seized. He said, I will recover him. They said to him. He is cast into the sea. Where is his patron ? It is not so with God, blessed be He ! He delivered Jonah from the bowels of the fish, for it is said, “ And God spake to the fish, and it vomited lip Jonah upon the dry land.” And so it is written in the commentary on Joel at the verse, 44 And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be delivered ” (Joel ii. 23). 44 Now the sea returned to his strength when the morning appeared” (Exod. xiv. 27) — to the stipulations which God made with it.1 R. Jeremiah b. Elazar said, Not with the sea alone did God stipulate, but with all that He created on the six days of creation. Thus we read, 44 I, even my hands, have stretched out the heavens, and all their host have I commanded ” (Isa. xlv. 12). I commanded the sea to be divided before Israel. I commanded the sun and the moon to stand before Joshua, for it is said, u Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon ; and thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon ” (Joshua x. 12). I commanded the heavens and the earth to be silent before Moses, for it is said, 14 Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak,” etc. (Deut. xxxii. 1). I commanded the ravens to feed Elijah, for it is said, “ And the ravens brought him bread and flesh ” (1 Kings xvii. 6). I com¬ manded the furnace not to hurt Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah, for it is said, 44 And the smell of fire had not passed on them ” (Dan. iii. 27). I commanded the lions not to injure Daniel, for it is said, 44 My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions’ mouths ” (ibid. vi. 22). I com¬ manded the heavens to open to Ezekiel, for it is said, 44 The heavens were opened and I saw visions of God ” (Ezek. i. 1). I commanded the fish to vomit forth Jonah, for it is said, 44 And the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land.” to3 craa nrat&n but three face to face, because the Shekinah has spoken with them — man, 1 The Midrasli reads y&on for -(jyN by metathesis. The stipulation was said to he made at the Creation that the sea should he divided before Israel. See Exodus Rob, c. 21, YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 55 the serpent, and the fish. Man — 64 and unto the man He said ” (Gen. iii. 17) ; the serpent — 44 and the Lord said unto the serpent ” (ibid. iii. 4); the fish — 44 and the Lord spake unto the fish.” 1 R. Zeirah b. R. Abhu in the name of R. Elieser said, 44 Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God ” (Ps. cxlvi. 5) ; and what comes after this ? — 44 Who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, who keepeth truth for ever.” What has this latter passage to do with the former ? A human being has a patron who may have power in one province (and not in another) ; if you say, He is lord of the world,2 ruling over the dry land ; it does not follow that he rules over the sea. God, however, rules both over the dry land and over the sea : he delivers in the sea and on the dry land : he delivered Moses from the sword of Pharaoh, and Jonah from the bowels of the fish, for it is said, 4k And the Lord spake to the fish, and it vomited out Jonah on the dry land.” And the word of the Lord came unto Jonah a second time. A second time the Shekinah spake with him, but not a third. But it is written, 44 He restored the coast of Israel from the entering of Hamath, according to the word of the Lord, the God of Israel, which he spake by the hand of his servant Jonah, the son of Amittai, the prophet, who was of Gathhepher (2 Kings xiv. 25). Rabbena said, This verse has reference to the affairs of Nineveh. R. Nahman b. Isaac said, It means that just as at Nineveh by the word of the Lord which he spake by the hand of his servant Jonah, the son of Amittai, the prophet, evil was changed to good, so in the days of Jeroboam, the son of Joash, was evil changed to good for Israel.3 1 Here is inserted the piece from Yelamednu identical with that on i. 15. 2 YlD'^pIDTIp == Koafj.oKp6.Twp, a title of the Roman emperor. 3 So that ^the word of the Lord” in 2 Kings xiv. 25 has no reference to a prophecy given in the days of Jeroboam II. Berach. ix. 1. iii. 1. Yebam. 56 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES i. 2. Beresh.Rab. xxxix. 9. iii. 3. Eleh. Sh. Bab. iv. 8. Tan bum a, Vayyik. 18 (Buber). Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, etc. 44 To a land which I will show thee,” etc. (Gen. xii. 1). Why was it not revealed to him at once ? In order to give him a reward on each occasion of God’s speaking to him. For, said R. Huna in the name of R. Jose, God delays and holds a matter in suspense before the eyes of the righteous, as in the commands, 44 To the land which I will show thee ” ; 44 Upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of ” (ibid. xxii. 2). So Jonah arose, and went to Nineveh, according to THE WORD OF THE LORD. 44 But he is in one mind, and who can turn him ? ” (Job xxiii. 13). Our teachers have said, What is the meaning of this passage.” If He decrees anything against a man no one can repeal it. Balaam the wicked sought to curse Israel ; against his will was he restrained, for it is said, 44 How shall I curse whom God hath not cursed ? ” (Num. xxiii. 8). Jeremiah sought that he might not prophesy, but he prophesied against his will, for it is said, 44 To whom¬ soever I shall send thee thou shaft go ” (Jer. i. 7). Moses declined to go with the message of God, for it is said, 44 Send, Lord, I pray thee, by the hand of him whom thou wilt send ” (Exod. iv. 13) ; yet in the end he went against his will, for it is said, 44 And Moses went ” (ibid. iv. 18). Jonah, who would not at first go with the message of God, yet went at last against his will, for it is said, 44 So Jonah arose, and went to Nineveh, according to the word of the Lord.” 44 If any one shall sin through error ” (Lev. iv. 2). You find three things which are in a man’s power, and three which are not. In his power are the mouth, the hands, and the feet. The mouth, for if he wish to occupy himself with the words of the Law, he may do so ; and if he wish to curse and blaspheme with an evil tongue, he may do so. The hands, for he can give alms with them, and he can also steal with them. The feet, for he can walk with them to seek out the sick, comfort mourners, bury the dead, and YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 57 do kindly deeds; he can also walk with them to commit sin, commit adultery, and to steal. The three which are not in his power are the eyes, the ears, and the nose. The eyes, for if a man pass along the street he sees against his will some evil or repulsive thing or someone he disapproves of. The nose, for as he passes along he smells unclean dishes, or incense offered to idols, or drains, which he had no desire whatever to smell. The ears, for as he passes along he hears blasphemy and cursing or something he disapproves of, and cannot help himself. But when God wills even those named above which are in a man’s power are removed from his power, as we learn from the cases of Moses, Jonah and Jeremiah. Of Moses R. Samuel b. Nahman said, Seven days was God persuading Moses at the bush, “ And now, come and I will send thee to Pharaoh” (Exod. iii. 10), but he returned answer, 44 I am not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken to thy servant” (ibid. iv. 10) these seven days; and he also said, 44 Send, I pray thee, by the hand of him whom thou wilt send ” (ibid. iv. 13). But God said to him, Dost thou think thy feet are in thine own power ? He rose and went against his will. Of Jonah it is said, 44 God said to him, Arise and go to Nineveh . . . and he arose to flee to Tarshish ” (Jonah i. 1, 2). At last God showed him all those troubles in the sea — the fish swallowed him and he prayed to God from its bowels, and the hair of his head and beard were plucked off through the heat he endured there. Yet after this he went against his will, for it is said, 44 And Jonah arose, and went,” etc. Of Jeremiah God said, 44 Before I formed thee in the womb I knew thee ” (Jer. i. 5). He said, 4 4 Ah, Lord God ! behold I cannot speak, for I am a child ” (ibid. i. 6). God answered him, 44 Say not, I am a child; for on whatsoever errand I shall send thee thou shalt go, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak ” (ibid. i. 7) — even against thy will thou shalt speak. And when God wills even the hands are not in a man’s power, as we learn when Iddo the prophet came to Jero- 58 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Beresh.Ra!) xxxvii. 4. iii. 4, Sanhed. 89. Pesikta Rab Ka- hana, Shu- lah. boam, for it is written, “ And, behold, there came a man of God out of Judah by the word of the Lord unto Bethel ; and Jeroboam stood by the altar . and his hand dried up,” etc. (1 Kings xiii. 1-4). Now Nineveh was an exceeding great city. “ And Resen between Nineveh and Calah : the same is the great city ” (Gen. x. 12). We do not know whether Resen or Nineveh is the great city, but a consideration of this passage in Jonah seems to show that the reference is to Nineveh.1 And Jonah began to enter into the city . . . Nineveh SHALL BE OVERTHROWN. A Tanna learned from R. Chisda, He who suppresses his prophecy incurs flagellation. He said to him, If one ate dates out of a sieve,2 is he punished ? Now who warned Jonah ? Abaye said, His companions the prophets. How did they know (that he had a prophecy to announce) ? Abaye said, It is written that God does nothing without revealing his secret to the prophets (Amos iii. 7). But perhaps the heavenly powers changed their opinion ? If so, those who knew would have told him. But in Jonah’s case, wdiere there was a change of opinion, it was not made known to him ; for from the first he was told that Nineveh would be overthrown, but whether for good or evil he did not know.3 i And he made proclamation . . . let neither man nor BEAST . . . FEED, ETC. R. Simeon b. Lakish said, The Ninevites made a perfect repentance, What did they do ? R. Hunya in the name of R. Simeon b. Halaphta said, They put the calves inside and the mothers outside; so, too, with the young asses. 1 Cf. Yoma, 10. 2 /. e. did a harmless thing. 3 Jf the inhabitants repented the decree might be averted, and yet the prophecy be fulfilled. YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 59 These began lowing on the one side, and those on the other. They then said, O Lord of the world ! if thou dost not have compassion on them we will not. R. Aha said, They do like this in Arabia,1 for it is said, “ How do the beasts groan ! the herds of cattle are perplexed because they have no pasture ” (Joel i. 18). And so in Taanith Taan. Jer. Jerushalmi, where it is said that the Ninevites made a feigned repentance. Let them be covered with sackcloth, both man and m. s. BEAST. They said before him, O Lord of the world ! the beasts sieh. sh. know nothing, and thou dost transfer thy favour to them. Consider us as the beasts and transfer thy favour to us. Why did they cover themselves with sackcloth ? R. Taanith, ie. Hayya b. Abba said, Lo ! we are accounted as the beasts before them. And let them cry mightily unto God. What is the meaning of “mightily”? R. Simeon b. Taan. Jer. Halaphta said, The persevering in prayer conquers even the bad man, so much the more the Good One of the world.2 From the violence that is in tiieir hands. R. Johanan said, What is the meaning of 44 that is in their hands ” ? What they had in their hands only they gave up, but not what they had in safe, chest or closet. And God saw tiieir works, etc. iii>10. How do they bring the chest 3 out to the open places of Taanith, ie. the city, etc. ? The eldest among them shall address them in heart-stirring words, Brethren ! it is not said of 1 On the day of the fast. 2 See note in Buber, Pesikta R. Kahuna, p. 161. Ugolinus renders this difficult sentence, “ Impudentia superat rectitudinen ; multo magis propter bonum mundi.” 3 Containing the scrolls of the Pentateuch. The reference is to its being brought out into the city on the feast-days. 60 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Rofih hash. 16. iv. 3. Mid. Tillim, cxvi. 6. the men of Nineveh, And God saw their sackcloth, and their fasting, but “ And God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way.” If there is an old man present he says this ; if not, then a learned man says it; and if there is not a learned man there, then any man of striking appearance — Our brethren ! sackcloth and fasting do not avert the evil decree, since we find in the case of Nineveh that it is not said, And God saw their sackcloth and their fasting, but, “ And God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way.” R. Isaac said, Four things cancel an evil decree passed on a man — almsgiving, prayer, change of name, and change of work. Prayer, for it is said, “ Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses ” (Ps. cvii. 28). Almsgiving, for it is written, “Alms (righteousness) delivereth from death” (Prov. x. 2). Change of name, for it is written, “ And God said unto Abraham, As for Sarai thy wife, thou shalt not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall her name be ” (Gen. xvii. 15); and after that it is written, “ And I will bless her, and also will give thee a son ” (ibid. xvii. 16). Change of work, for it is written, “ And God saw their works that they turned from their evil ways,” and, “ And the Lord repented of the evil which he said he would do unto his people ” (Exod. xxxii. 14). And some say also change of place, for it is said, And the Lord said unto Abram, Get thee from thy land ” (Gen. xii. I).1 Therefore now, O Lord, take, i beseech tiiee, my life FROM ME. “ Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints ” (Ps. cxvi. 15). Ten things 2 are called precious : riches, for it is said, “ The precious substance of men is to the diligent” (Prov. xii. 27); knowledge — “The lips of 1 See also Beresh. Bab. xliv. 1.5 ; Koheleth Bab. v. 6. 2 Machir omits, or probably the scribe by homoioteleuton, two of these — the Law (Prov. iii. 15), Israel (Jer. xxxi. 20). The passage is also found in Vayyik. Bab. ii. ; Mid. Samuel, viii. YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 61 knowledge are a precious jewel ” (ibid. xx. 15); prophecy — 44 And the word of the Lord was precious ” (1 Sam. iii. 1) ; understanding — 44 He who is precious of spirit 1 is a man of understanding” (Prov. xvii. 27); folly — 44 A little folly is more precious than wisdom and honour” (Eccles. x. 1); the righteous — 44 How precious are thy companions unto me, O God ” (Ps. cxxxix. 17); mercy — 44 How precious is thy mercy, O God ” (ibid, xxxvi. 8) ; the death of the righteous — 44 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints ” (ibid. cxvi. 15). Like a king who sent an officer to collect his royal revenue. He went and lodged with a householder ten days, and every day deposited with him a hundred minas, in all a hundred thousand (common shekels). When he came to demand the royal treasure which he owed him, he said that he owed but fifty minas. How can I exact from him what he owes ? So the Holy One said, It is hard for me to say to Abraham that he must die, for he made me known as possessor of heaven and earth, and went down to the furnace for my sake,2 and sanctified my name in the world. It was hard for me to say to Moses that he must die, for he put his life in his hand, and went down to Pharaoh, who sought to slay him. And so to David, for he put his life in his hand, and went down to Goliath. And so to Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah, for they threw themselves into the furnace of fire. And so to all the righteous. And if the righteous had not called for death, they would never have died. Of Abraham it is written, 44 Seeing I go childless ” (Gen. xv. 2) ; of Isaac, 44 That I may bless thee before the Lord before my death ” (ibid, xxvii. 7); of Jacob, 44Now let me die” (ibid. xlvi. 30); of Moses, 44 For I must die ” (Deut. iv. 22); of David, 44 1 go the way of all the earth” (1 Kings ii. 2); of Jonah, 44 Take, I pray thee, my life from me.” And since the righteous themselves ask for death as a favour, the Holy One said, Let these die on account of their successors. 1 Interpreted by liaslii to mean “he who is sparing of words.” The A.V. renders “of an excellent spirit’’ ; R.V. “ of a cool spirit,” following the Kthiv. 2 See Pcakt. Rab. xxxiii. ; Erub. 53 a ; Targ. Jer. to Gen. xiv. 1. 62 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES iv. 6. Shabb. 21. iv. 8. Gittin. 31. iv. 11. Kerith. 6. If Abraham still lived how could Isaac have succeeded him ? And so in the case of the others that have been mentioned. And the Lord prepared a gourd (’p'lpp). “ And not with oil of kik.” 1 What is oil of kik ? R. Samuel said, There is a bird in the sea-towns and its name is kik.2 R. Isaac b. R. Judah said, It is cotton-seed oil. R. Simeon b. Lakish said, It is the gourd ('j'Ppp) of Jonah. R. Bar b. Hanah said, I have seen the gourd of Jonah, and it resembled the ricinus tree : [they grow in dykes and they put them before] 3 the shop doors, and from the kernels they produce oil ; and under the branches rest all the sick persons of Palestine. And it came to pass, when the sun arose, that God PREPARED A SULTRY EAST WIND [Why mamri ?] R. Jehudah said, Because when it blows it makes furrows in the sea.4 Rabba asked him, If that be so, how is it said, “ And the sun beat upon the head of Jonah, and he fainted ” ? Rabba answered, When the cast wind blows it quiets all the other winds. And should not I have pity on Nineveh, etc. ? “ And ye my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, are men (CHS) ” (Ezek. xxxiv. 31). Ye are called “ men ” (errs), but not so the Gentiles. It is written, “ And the persons (wzi) were sixteen thousand ” (Num. xxxi. 40) — this to the exclusion of the beasts; and it is also written, “And should not I have pity on Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than six score thousand persons, that cannot discern between their right hand and their left; and also much 1 From the Mishiia ii. 1, which forbids the use of “oil of kik” for the Sabbath lights. Various explanations of the term are given. See J astro w, s.v. pip. 2 The Arabic name of the pelican. ■! The text of the Yalkut is corrupt in this passage. 4 The word JV£?vTI "sultry” being taken from the root "to plough.” YALKUT OF R. MACHIR BAR ABBA MARI 63 cattle ? ” This latter passage at all events (whatever you say of the other) excludes the beasts. Also much cattle. You can exchange one for two, and two for one, etc.1 How do we know these things ? We have learned in a Baraitha 2 that the Rabbis have said that since it is said, 44 beast for beast ” (Lev. xxvii. 10) you can change one for two, two for one ; one hundred for one, one for a hundred. R. Simeon said, You can only change one for one, since it is said, 4 4 beast for beast ” not 44 beast for beasts,” nor 44 beasts for beast.” They said to him, We have found 44 beast ” used as the equivalent of 44 beasts ” in that passage in Jonah where it is said, 44 and much cattle ” (rara 44 beast ”). But R. Simeon answered, The word there is used, not by itself, but with the adjective 44 much” (ran). 44 That they may see that they themselves are but as beasts ” (Eccles. iii. 18). To show to the Gentiles how Israel follows after God like a beast. As a beast which stretches forth its neck to be slaughtered, so are the righteous, for it is said, 44 For thy sake are we killed all the day long ” (Ps. xliv. 22). But you have this tradition, that every one who does a good deed nigh to his death makes it clear that he is anxious to add it to those already done ; and that, on the contrary, every one who does an evil deed nigh to his death, it tends to show that he is full of evil deeds and required but this one to complete them. Both depart complete from the world, one in the measure of his righteousness, the other in that of his wickedness. The arguing spirit (Gabriel)3 has authority to speak before God like the mediator who speaks before the king. And so he says, O Lord of the world ! all are adapted for death; Death visited Abraham, Isaac, Abimelech, Moses, Pharaoh; as Solomon said, 44 All go to one place, all came 1 The treatise Temurah, from which this passage is taken, treats mainly of the exchange of consecrated things (Lev. xxvii. 10, 33). 2 See note on ii. 1. 3 Sunk. 44 b — u Gabriel is surnamed •ilpDD because he argues with the Lord.” Temur. 9. Koliel. Rab iii. 18. Yelamednu fTanljuma, Berach. 6]. 64 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES from the dust and all return to the dust ” (Eccles. iii. 20). Then what profit is there to the righteous who have occupied themselves in this world in the law and good works; and how are the wicked at a disadvantage who have sinned in this world and caused others to sin ? Solomon explained the matter, 44 Who knoweth the spirit of the sons of men that goeth upward ” (ibid. iii. 21) — these are the souls of the righteous which are hidden and placed under the throne of glory — 44 and the spirit of the beast which goeth downward ” — these are the souls of the wicked which go down to Gehenna; and so it is said, 44 Yet shalt thou be brought down to Sheol ” (Isa. xiv. 15). And how do we know that the righteous are called men ? From what Jonah says at the end of his prophecy, 44 And should not I have pity upon Nineveh, that great city, wherein arc more than six score thousand persons ” — these are the righteous — 44 and much cattle” — these are the wicked, whose deeds are as those of cattle. Therefore it is said, 44 Behold, the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth; how much more the wicked and the sinner ! ” (Prov. xi. 31). ESSAY III THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS Rev. Prof. H. T. Andrews, B.A. it SYNOPSIS Statement of the problem and the method to be pursued. I. The theory that the eschatological elements are a later addition to the narrative. Arguments in support, (a) The atmosphere of the age; ( b ) only one definite prediction of the Parousia upon which the Synoptics agree and this occurs in a disputed passage ; (c) the differences and variations in the other predictions ; ( d ) these elements are out of harmony with other aspects of the teaching of Jesus. The reply to these arguments seriatim. Arguments against, (a) Eschatology is woven into the tissue of the thought of Jesus; (6) no grounds for assuming the existence of a non- eschatological stage; the evidence of Mark and Q, on this point; (c) the presence of eschatological elements in every type of New Testament theology. II. The theory that eschatology represents the survival of Judaism in the thought of Jesus. The relation between the eschatology of the Gospel to Jewish Apocalyptic is obvious. But the objections to this view are serious : (a) affinity with Jewish thought does not destroy value ; (6) the fact that eschatology belongs to the later and not the earlier phase of the teaching of Jesus; (c) the modifications introduced by Jesus into Jewish Apocalyptic show that He was not the passive victim of contemporary thought ; ( d ) the eschatological elements are the most solemn and sacred utterances of Jesus. III. The theory that these utterances are to be treated as parabolic. The various forms which this view has assumed. The presence of a sym¬ bolic element is undoubted, but is everything symbolic? The argument based on Matt. xxvi. 64. The spiritualisation of eschatology in the fourth Gospel. Objections. None of the explanations does justice to the facts, and all are incompatible with the express statements of Jesus. IV. The real significance of these utterances. The true method of studying the problem is to study the causes which led Jesus into the realm of eschatology. The growth of the conviction that something more than preaching was required — viz. a transcendent act of redemptive sacrifice, which would secure an immediate triumph. This conviction is presented in terms of current thought. The eschato¬ logical utterances, when we translate them into modern speech, signify (1) faith in the ultimate triumph of good over evil; (2) this faith is not an empty optimism, but is guaranteed by the sacrifice on the cross; (3) Jesus is the Lord of the Future, and from the throne of God sways the destiny of the human race ; (4) the kingdom of God cannot be evolved from below, but must descend from above. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS The most interesting and important feature in recent New Testament criticism is undoubtedly to be found in the increasing importance which is being attached to the eschatological side of the teaching of Jesus. Whatever may be the final verdict that will be passed on the writings of Johannes Weiss and Schweitzer, we owe them an immense debt of gratitude for having compelled us to face a problem which had been almost entirely neglected in the modern study of the Gospels. In the present essay the term “ eschatological ” will be taken in its narrowest sense, and the discussion will be confined as far as possible to the statements in the Gospels in which the Parousia is definitely predicted. It will be impossible even to approach the larger questions and wider issues which the word suggests. The problem for us will be : What did Jesus mean when He foretold His speedy re-appearance on the clouds of heaven ? In what sense did He intend His words to be taken ? How far does the non-fulfilment of the prophecy affect its value ? What is the significance of these utterances for the modern mind ? In dealing with this problem, there are several separate questions which it will be necessary to face. (1) Are the eschatological statements really part of the teaching of Jesus, or should they be regarded as a later addendum to the narrative derived from the atmosphere of the Apostolic Age ? (2) If they are a genuine part of the teaching of Jesus, are they an essential part, or may we say that in uttering these predictions Jesus was speaking simply as a child of His age, and that His statements with regard to F 2 67 68 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES the Parousia must be regarded merely as the unconscious invasion of Judaism into Llis thoughts ? (3) If they are essential elements can they be explained poetically or allegorically as referring to the development of the Church ? (4) If this poetical explanation is to be set aside, what real significance ought we to attach to the statements ? I Our first inquiry must necessarily be an examination of the genuineness of the eschatological utterances attributed to Jesus in the Gospel narratives. There are many scholars to-day who maintain that the eschatological elements in the teaching of Jesus have been inserted into the records by the influence of early Christian tradition, and that they reflect, therefore, the views of the primitive Church rather than the thought of Jesus Wellhausen, for instance, says, “ The eschatological Hope acquired its intensity first through the oldest Christians, who attached it to the person of Christ,” and a similar position is strongly maintained by Haupt in his Die cschatologischen Aussagen Jesu. This theory has a great attractiveness about it because it is such a simple solution of the problem. At a single stroke we are able to cut the Gordian knot by the knife of criticism, and free the figure of Jesus from some of the most serious difficulties that enshroud it. Moreover, it is not merely attractive in itself but a very strong prima facie case can be made out in its support. The critical grounds upon which it rests appear at first sight to be sound and convincing. We may state the arguments thus — (1) There is the clearest possible evidence that our present records have been tinged and coloured by the atmosphere and spirit of the early Church. The teaching of Jesus remained in a fluid condition for nearly a genera¬ tion before it was stereotyped in written form. During this time it was susceptible to outside influences, and there was inevitably an unconscious infiltration of extraneous ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 69 elements. We have only to compare the different versions of the various sayings of Jesus to realise the extent to which modifications were introduced into the original tradition by the action of the Zeitgeist. It is by no means beyond the bounds of possibility that the eschatological ideas which were so prevalent in early times may have forced themselves into the teaching of Jesus during the period of fluidity. It is only necessary to read the opening speeches in Acts or the Epistles of St. Paul, or the Book of Revelation, to see that there was plenty of material in primitive Christian thought to give an eschatological tone to part at any rate of the teachings of Jesus. There must in the very nature of the case have been many sayings of Jesus in the common tradition which lent them¬ selves to an eschatological interpretation, and it was the simplest matter in the world for the Christian consciousness to make explicit what it felt to be implicit in the words of the Master. (2) It is a most significant fact that there is only one definite prediction of the Parousia in the Synoptics which » has been transmitted in almost identical words in all three evangelists, viz. the utterance found in Matt. xxiv. 30, Mark xiii. 26, Luke xxi. 27. “ And they shall see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.” This passage, however, occurs in the Apocalyptic address delivered by Jesus just before the Crucifixion, and it is a well-known fact that verv con- siderable doubt exists as to the authenticity and genuine¬ ness of this address A formidable array of scholars could be quoted who have accepted the theory of Colani, that a Jewish Apocalypse has been inserted into this discourse by Christian tradition. The words quoted above belong to this “ Little Apocalypse,” as it is called, and so upon this theory do not represent the teaching of Jesus at all. We may dismiss them, therefore, as a Jewish gloss which was foisted upon the narrative by Jewish- Christian influences. Moreover, if there is any truth in this hypothesis (and it is accepted to-day by such authorities as Pfleiderer, Weiz- 70 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES siicker and Charles), it not only helps us to explain the origin of a troublesome passage, but it affords us an excellent illustration of the process by which eschatological sayings were inserted into the records. If the final dis¬ course of Jesus can be clearly proved to have been adul¬ terated by a foreign admixture of Jewish eschatological ideas, why should we hesitate in supposing that other similar elements in the present records of the teaching of Jesus came from the same source ? (3) When we turn to the other definite predictions of the Parousia in the Gospels, we find great variations in the text of the various statements, and there is no clear case where we find the three evangelists in agreement. Sometimes, for instance, when we find an unmistakable prediction of the Parousia in one Gospel, the parallel passages in the others are quite colourless and admit of a much simpler interpretation. One or two illustrations may be given — Matt. xvi. 28. There are some of those standing here who shall not taste of death until they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom. (I) Mark ix. 1. There are some of those standing here who shall not taste of death until they see the kingdom of God coming in power. Luke ix. 27. 'Hiere are some of those standing here who shall not taste of death until they see the kingdom of God. In this passage Matthew alone speaks of the Parousia. Mark and Luke simply refer to the coming of the kingdom. May we not quite legitimately infer that Matthew has coloured the saying which he found in his sources with his own particular views of the second coming of Christ ? Matt. xxvi. 04. Henceforth ye shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of the power, and coming on the clouds of heaven. (II) Mark xiv. 02. And ye shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of the power, and coming with the clouds of Heaven. Luke xxii. 09. Henceforth the Son of Man shall be sitting on the right hand of the power of God. ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 71 Here it is noteworthy that while Matthew and Mark agree in specifically including the Parousia, Luke omits all reference to the subject. These variations within the documents show us how easy it was to introduce the conception of the Parousia. The addition of a simple phrase was sufficient to give an entirely new meaning to the sentence. Moreover, the fact that the three evangelists never seem (except in the eschatological chapter) to agree in introducing the con¬ ception in the same way, or in the same place, throws no little suspicion on the genuineness of the eschatological utterances ascribed to Jesus. (4) The eschatological statements seem to be out of harmony with some of the most important aspects of the teaching of Jesus. Over against the conception of the kingdom involved in the eschatological outlook, as a future entity which will only be realised at the Parousia, we have another view which regards the kingdom as already present. We have, for instance, such definite assertions as Matt. xii. 28, 44 If I by the Spirit of God cast out devils, then is the kingdom of God come upon you,” and Luke xvii. 21, 44 Behold, the kingdom of God is within you.” Then, again, the two parables of the mustard seed and the leaven seem to be absolutely at variance with the eschato¬ logical theory They assume that the seed and the leaven have already been given to the world in the teaching of Jesus, and it is only necessary to wait for this teaching to become operative to secure the consummation of the great ideal. Nothing can be more pointed, therefore, than the contrast between the two theories in the Gospels. Accord¬ ing to the eschatological view, the utmost stress is laid upon the Parousia and the cataclysmic advent of the kingdom, while the fact of the Incarnation and the ethical teaching of Jesus occupy a secondary position. According to the other conception, the kingdom has already been brought into the world by the teaching and personality of the historical Jesus, and its gradual development is assured. In the latter theorv the first advent is the v LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES dominant idea. The Messiah has already come. The gift of God has been bestowed upon the world. On the former hypothesis the first advent is simply the prelude and the prophecy of the second. Jesus is the predestined Messiah, but the Messiahship will not be realised till His return upon the clouds of heaven. In the face of these irreconcilable conceptions, is it not the most reasonable conclusion to suppose that the eschatological idea was superimposed upon the teaching of Jesus by later influences ? Such are the arguments which are put forward by the critics who advocate the excision of the eschatological elements from the narrative. The case has been stated as strongly as possible because there is little doubt that this hypothesis is rapidly gaining popularity, and ought to receive full recognition and fair treatment in the discussion of the subject. Though at first sight the proposal to detach the eschato¬ logical elements from the teaching of Jesus and regard them as an alien addition, seems very attractive, and though a strong prima facie case can be made out to justify this procedure, when we come to look more closely into the matter the arguments adduced in favour of this theory fail to carry conviction because thev do not render full justice to all the data at our disposal. Let us take these arguments seriatim. (1) It is quite true, of course, that there was a strong eschatological bias in early Christian thought. But before we reach the decision that this bias is sufficient to account for the predictions of the Parousia in the Gospels there are some considerations which must be taken into account. We are bound to ask, for instance, What was the origin of this eschatological tendency ? Could these ideas have attained the strength and potency which they undoubtedly possessed if they had had no foundation in the teaching of Jesus ? Is it likely that these Apocalyptic conceptions would have draped themselves about the person of Jesus, unless there had been something in his own language to ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 73 justify the process ? We must remember that the eschato¬ logical interpretation of Christ dates back to the first days of the Church’s history if we are to trust the records in Acts. It seems to have leapt from the mouth of Peter as if by instinct. There was no slow and gradual evolution. We cannot trace the stages of the development. The transformation — if it was a transformation — was immediate and almost magical. We have absolutely no data which enable us to say that there ever was a non-eschatological stage in the primitive Christian Faith. Moreover, we must remember that, except in one type of Christian thought — the type that culminated in the Apocalypse — there was a distinct tendency in the very opposite direction. Far from intensifying the eschatological elements, we have clear evidence that Christian theology softened and spiritualised them. We find unmistakable proof of this when we compare the earlier and later epistles of St. Paul, and the process of spiritualisation reaches its climax in the fourth Gospel. The probability is that our synoptic Gospels have toned down rather than exaggerated the eschatological statements which they found in their sources. (2) The view that we have in the last address of Jesus, an intermingling of two different sources, may be accepted as the most probable explanation of the form which that address has assumed in our present Gospels. We must not forget, however, that the hypothesis with regard to the Jewish origin of the “Little Apocalypse” is not, and cannot, be proved. There is no tangible evidence which warrants the conclusion that it could not have been an utterance of Jesus. The supposition that the prediction of the Parousia in Matt. xxiv. 30 is of Jewish origin is a purely gratui¬ tous assumption, and cannot be substantiated by sound argument (3) The argument which is based on the variation in the proof texts is much less convincing when we make a critical examination of the passages in relation to their context. To take the first illustration which was given 74 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES above. The definite allusion to the Parousia in Matt. xvi. 28 is omitted in the parallel passages in Mark and Luke, and it is argued that this fact proves that Matthew mis¬ interpreted his sources. As long as we confine ourselves to the particular text, the deduction is valid, though it is difficult to see the reason which prompted Matthew, writing between a.d. 70 and 80, to intensify the Parousia concep¬ tion, when the fact of its non-fulfilment was beginning to make that idea fade into comparative insignificance. When, however, we read the particular verse in question, in relation to its context in the three Gospels, we see at once how baseless is the argument. Both Mark and Luke record a most specific reference to the Parousia in the previous verse — “ The Son of Man shall be ashamed of him when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels ” (Mark viii. 38, Luke ix. 26). The Parousia, therefore, is equally prominent in this passage in all three Synoptics — the only difference being that Matthew inserts it in one clause, Mark and Luke in another. The absence of the idea of the Parousia in the Lucan version of the second illustration is quite as reasonably explained by supposing that Luke intended to soften the eschatological element, as by arguing that Matthew and Mark intended to intensify it. (4) The difficulty which is presented by the two con¬ flicting pictures of the kingdom in the teaching of Jesus, the ethical and the eschatological, must be acknowledged to be one of the most serious problems connected with the gospel narrative. There seems to be a real antinomy in the thought of Jesus. It is just as easy, however, as Schweitzer has shown, to resolve the ethical into the eschatological as it is to transmute the eschatological into the ethical, and just as uncritical The two strains of thought in the teaching of Jesus are about equally well supported, and neither of them can be excised without doing violence to the facts. Some explanation, however, must be found of the apparent contradiction. It is inconceivable that, in the thought of Jesus, the two ideas were in irreconcilable ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 75 antagonism. The most probable explanation is to be found in the theory that the ethical represents an earlier and the eschatological a later phase of the teaching of Jesus. We may take the incident at Caesarea Philippi as the dividing point. Before this event the eschatological element is at a minimum. The only two important passages where it is found both occur in Matthew, who, by general admission, has the least sense of historical perspective of the three synoptic writers. One is the famous passage in the Sermon on the Mount : “ Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, . . . then will I profess unto them, I never knew you ” (vii. 22-23). The parallel passage in Luke xiii. 23-25 is placed much later than the confession at Caesarea Philippi. The other reference is more important. “ Ye shall not have gone through the cities of Israel until the Son of Man come ” (x. 23). Schweitzer, who holds that the eschatological conception dominated not only the later but the earlier phase of the teaching of Jesus, lays the utmost stress upon this passage. It is a significant fact, however, that though these particular words have no parallel in the other Gospels, the passage which immediately precedes them is placed by Luke in the final discourse at Jerusalem in Ch. xxi. We are justified, therefore, in saying that Matthew has probably antedated the eschatological conception, which did not come into prominence till after Caesarea Philippi. The most serious objection to this view lies in the fact that the famous dictum of Jesus, “ The kingdom of God is within you,” is placed by Luke at a comparatively late point in the ministry (xvii. 22). There are indications, however, that the saying is out of relation to the context in which it is placed. Its connection with the following paragraph is of the loosest. There seems, therefore, to be no act of critical violence in supposing that this saying has been transferred by the evangelist from its proper place in the earlier part of the narrative. If this theory, which has the support of Wernle and Charles, can be regarded as true to fact, the difficulty involved in the opposition 76 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES between the two conceptions of the kingdom vanishes at once. The two conceptions represent two phases, an earlier and a later, of the teaching of Jesus. So far we have simply been criticising the arguments brought forward by the school of thought which wishes to exclude the eschatological elements from the Gospels. It is necessary now to state the positive grounds upon which the recognition of eschatology, as a genuine element in the teaching of Jesus, rests. (a) In the first place, since it is always possible to explain away on critical grounds this or that particular proof text, we have to ask ourselves the question, Are there any indications, apart from isolated proof texts, that the eschatological conception was an integral element in the thought of Jesus ? The answer to this question must be in the affirmative. The eschatological element in the Gospels is not confined to proof texts. It is the underlying idea which lies at the root of many of the most important parables in the Gospels. The parable of the wise and foolish virgins finds its whole point in the phrase: “ Behold the bridegroom cometh.” Matthew’s parable of the talents and Luke’s parable of the pounds, imply an eschatological background. The parable, if it can be called a parable, of the sheep and the goats, in Matt, xxv. 31-46, is introduced by the words, “ When the Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all the angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory.” The parable of the man who went into a far country, in Mark xiii. 34-37, concludes with the significant words, “ Ye know not when the master of the house cometh, whether in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or early in the morning.” It is inconceivable that these parables do not represent genuine utterances of Jesus, and it is ‘almost impossible to suppose that they have been misinterpreted. Then, again, the doctrine of the Kingdom is undoubtedly the heart and kernel of the teaching of Jesus, and it is quite beyond the bounds of possibility to denude the conception of the kingdom, as it is portrayed by Jesus, of all eschato- ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 77 logical content If we excluded the explicit references to the Parousia from the Gospels, we should still be left with an implicit eschatology which cannot be removed without a coup d'etat of critical nihilism. ( b ) We have no justification, as far as our documentary evidence goes, for assuming that in its earliest form the teaching of Jesus was devoid of eschatological elements. We do not find, for instance, except in a few cases, that eschatology diminishes the farther we go back in the history of gospel tradition. Dobschutz describes Mark “ as the strongest supporter of eschatological views ” (p. 104). This may perhaps be an exaggeration, but even if it is, it indicates that the first picture of Jesus was set in an eschatological frame. And Mark is not peculiar in this respect. When we turn to Q we find the same phenomenon. Harnack, who is no advocate of the eschatological interpretation of Christ, speaks of “ the dramatic eschatology to which Q bears testimony ” ( The Sayings of Jesus , p. 232). There are at any rate four important sections in Harnack’s arrangement of Q where the prediction of the Parousia is either set forth with the utmost clearness, or, at any rate, most certainly implied, and very possibly, if the original could be dis¬ covered, the eschatological element would be found to bulk more largely still. Moreover, when we go back behind Mark and Q to the “doubly attested” sayings which are common to both, we still find the eschatological element. In Professor Burkitt’s collection of thirty-one sayings, there are two which definitely assert the Parousia, and five others, which, as Dobschutz thinks, imply an eschato¬ logical background. In the face of this evidence, it seems impossible to deny that eschatology goes back to the very earliest form of Christian tradition, and that no evidence is, therefore, available to prove that a non-eschatological stage ever existed in the transmission of the teaching of Christ. (c) Furthermore, there is another argument which strongly militates against the supposition that the teaching i 78 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of Jesus was non-eschatological. We have, in the New Testament, no less than seven different representations of the faith of the primitive Christians, viz. the synoptic Gospels (with which Acts may also be classed), the Johan- nine writings, the Epistles of St. Paul, Hebrews, James, 1 Peter, the Book of Revelation, besides certain minor documents of later date. Most of these seem to have an independent origin. We may take it as a sure principle of criticism that the points which are common to all these types of thought must go back to the earliest times and be derived from the teaching of Christ. We find that the belief in the Parousia, in one form or another, is universal. There is no document in the New Testament from which it is absent. There is no proof, till we come to 2 Pet. iii. 3-4 — 44 in the last days mockers shall come with mockery, walking after their own lusts, and saying, Where is the promise of his coming ? ” — that the belief was ever challenged even by heretics. Now, if there had ever been a non-eschatological stage, we should almost certainly have found a relic of it in some form of Christian or so-called heretical thought. It could not have vanished away so completely without leaving the slightest mark upon the history of the Apostolic Age. The fact that belief in the Parousia is common to all types of Christian thought and not the slightest trace of its denial in the first period has survived, makes the hypothesis of a non-eschatological stage incredible. We cannot, therefore, remove the eschatological elements from the Gospels without doing violence both to the facts at our disposal and to the principles of historical criticism. II We have decided that the eschatological conception is inseparable from the teaching of Jesus. The problem now arises, What explanation are we to give of it ? The suggestion has been made by Schwartzkopf and ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 70 other interpreters of the Gospels that we should regard the eschatological side of the teaching of Jesus as the result of the influence of the current Apocalyptic ideas which were prevalent at the time in Jewish circles. Jesus, on His human side at any rate, must have been the child of His age. He could not escape altogether from the atmosphere which surrounded Him. We know, for in¬ stance, that He accepted the prevalent view with regard to the authorship of Ps. cx. We know, as Dr. R. H. Charles has proved, that He was acquainted with the Apocalyptic literature of the period — with the Book of Enoch , for instance, and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. We know, too, that the words which are used by Jesus in the prediction of the Parousia must have been suggested by the famous passage in the Book of Daniel, “ Behold, there came with the clouds of heaven one like unto a son of man ” (vii. 13). May we not say, therefore, that the eschatological side of the teaching of Jesus represents the spirit of the age rather than the Divine Revelation ? Jesus could not entirely shake Himself free from the current categories of thought. Eschatology survives as a relic of old Judaism, and must be regarded as an anachronism in the teaching of Jesus. Now, it must be admitted that no doubt can exist that the form in which Jesus couched his predictions of the Parousia was borrowed from the Apocalyptic language current at the time. The problem is : Does the fact that the Parousia utterances are in line with certain prevalent Jewish conceptions destroy their value and compel us to regard them merely as a survival of Jewish thought ? Was Jesus in his eschatological outlook simply the victim of the phantasies of the hour ? This theory provides us with an easy and attractive solution of the difficulty. It is not incompatible with the fullest recognition of the Divine mission of Jesus. Any doctrine of the Incarnation which allows room for the principle of Kenosis might accept this explanation without any fear of its ultimate effect. In the eschatological 80 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES utterances Jesus is speaking as a man under the limitations which the very fact of Incarnation involved, and we need not, therefore, attach to them the same value and import¬ ance which belong to the revel ational element in His teaching. The objections to this hypothesis rest on critical rather than on theological grounds. (1) In the lirst place, the fact that the eschatological utterances present an affinity with Jewish thought does not of itself afford sufficient ground for their rejection. If we were to reject every utterance of Jesus which could be paralleled in Jewish literature, and set up originality as the supreme canon of value, we should reduce His teaching to very small compass. And we must not set up one standard for eschatology and another for ethics. Why, for instance, should we reject Matt. xxvi. 64 on the ground of its likeness to Dan. vii. 13, and accept the teaching of Jesus with regard to forgiveness in spite of the fact that there is a very clear parallel to it in the Testa¬ ments of the Patriarchs ? The Jewish character of the eschatology cannot therefore be accepted as an absolutely scientific criterion of rejection. (2) But the theory is really wrecked by the fact that eschatology represents the climax of the teaching of Jesus. If there had been any truth in the hypothesis, we should naturally have expected that the Jewish element would have been most manifest in the earlier phases of the teaching of Jesus, and that, as His message became clearer and more definite, He would gradually break away from the crippling bonds of contemporary thought. As a matter of fact, however, the progress of the teaching of Jesus was in the very reverse direction. The Sermon on the Mount represents Him as the universal teacher of the human race, free from all racial prejudices and national ideals, speaking the common language of the human heart, making His appeal not to His own age or His own countrymen merely, but to all the ages and to all mankind. The addresses at the end of His career represent Him no ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 81 longer as a teacher who has soared above the thought of His age into the clear atmosphere of eternity, but as one who is enmeshed and imprisoned in the mazes of Jewish theology, and cannot extricate Himself from its baneful influence. If the eschatology had come first, and the ethico-religious teaching had constituted the climax of the Gospel narrative, an invincible case could have been made out for Schwartzkopf’s position — but it seems inconceivable that one, whose glory rests upon the fact that His teaching was “ not for an age, but for all time,” should, at the end and climax of His career, in the moment of His supreme act of sacrifice, have fallen a hopeless victim to the bondage of the letter of Judaism. If Jesus could transform and transmute other Jewish ideas, and endow them with a spiritual meaning of His own, why should He have failed at the supreme moment of His life to transform the Jewish Apocalyptic ? (3) As a matter of fact, however, it is quite clear that Jesus has modified and purified the eschatological teaching of Jewish Apocalyptic literature. When we read the Gospels carefully we find that Jesus has blended with the purely eschatological outlook another conception — the con¬ ception of the suffering Servant derived from Deutero- Isaiah. The idea of the Parousia is constantly connected with the idea of the death upon the cross. The two great strains of thought stand side by side, for instance, in all the New Testament accounts of the Last Supper. The Parousia is rendered possible through the redemptive sacrifice. This blending of eschatology and soteriology constitutes the original contribution which Jesus makes to the subject. Nowhere in Jewish literature are the two lines of thought brought into relation with each other. Jesus was the first to teach that the eschatological dreams can only be realised through suffering and sacrifice. The fact that this modification is introduced into the Jewish conception proves that Jesus did something more than adopt the current views upon the subject. He trails formed the conventional belief by infusing a new spirit G 82 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES into it. His eschatology, therefore, is not a casual accept¬ ance of ideas that were in the air at the time. There is a great gulf fixed between the common Jewish eschatology and that of Jesus, and this divergence clearly indicates that Jesus was no passive victim of the Zeitgeist , when He spoke of His return to the world. (4) One further point must be mentioned, which contains what is perhaps the most fatal objection to the hypothesis. The eschatological sayings are among the most sacred and solemn utterances of Jesus. They never fall glibly from His lips. They do not read like conventional remarks to-day, and they were not regarded as conventional remarks by the disciples. They were uttered on days of crisis — in the mood of spiritual ecstasy that followed the Transfiguration, or in the exalted moments that came after Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi, or during the tense and awe-inspiring time that preceded the Crucifixion, when the dark shadow of the cross was hovering over the Great Teacher and His little group of followers, or in the judgment-hall of Caiaphas, where the final admission was wrung from the reluctant lips of Jesus in the course of a pitiless cross-examination. The place which these utterances occupy in the Gospel narra¬ tive — the sanctity that surrounds the occasions on which they were made, the sense of solemnity that enshrouds them — all go to prove that Jesus Himself regarded them as amongst His most important deliverances. We cannot set them on one side, without setting on one side what Jesus Himself regarded as being of primary significance. Ill We have reached the conclusion that the eschatological elements in the Gospels cannot be explained away as a Jater addition to the narrative, or set aside as the intrusion of Jewish ideas into the thought of Jesus. We come now to the discussion of a third theory. This theory maintains ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 83 that Jesus used the current Apocalyptic ideas of the day as symbols in which to veil His predictions of the future history of the Church. The Parousia utterances are merely the poetical or allegorical form in which He assures His disciples of His continued presence with His followers after the Crucifixion. The saying of Matt. xxvi. 64 is only the symbolic statement of a truth which is put into plainer language in xxviii. 20 : 44 Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.” The theory has taken many forms. There have been some, for instance, like Weiffenbach, who have thought that the Parousia utterances are only an alternative way of pre¬ dicting the Resurrection; others have supposed that they contain a veiled allusion to Pentecost. 44 I am inclined to believe,” says Dr. Sanday, 44 that the real coming of the Kingdom — the fact corresponding to it in the field of ultimate realities — is what we are in the habit of calling the work of the Holy Spirit from Pentecost onwards.” Others, again, think that the Parousia is a parable which was meant to teach 44 the perpetual spiritual advent of our Saviour in the perpetual communication of His presence.” Others, again, think it contains a reference to the historic revelation of Christ in the history of the Church. H. J. Holtzmann, for instance, says that under the form of the Parousia Jesus intends to predict 44 a series of manifest historical deeds of power by which He will seek to show Himself to be the exalted Messiah.” Others, again, have urged that the eschatological form was adopted by Jesus to veil His social teaching and the effects which that teaching would produce in the history of the world’s civilisation. Once again we may admit that this theory, like the others we have mentioned, would be a very acceptable solution of the problem, if it could be squared with the facts. We are bound to acknowledge on any hypothesis that much of the eschatological language of Jesus is symbolic. No one supposes, for instance, that the coming on the clouds of heaven is meant to represent literal fact. Jesus was G 2 84 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES obviously using a poetical expression which had been consecrated in Hebrew literature. The Apocalyptic idea was always expounded in figurative language. Eschatology had created a style and vocabulary of its own. The Apocalyptic writers among the Jews allowed their imagina¬ tion to run riot far more than the poets. Jewish poetry is for the most part restrained and simple. Jewish Apoca¬ lyptic revels in phantasies and recognises no limitations to the play of the imagination. We are bound to make the same allowance in reading the eschatological words of Jesus that we always make in reading Hebrew Apocalyptic. In eschatology the Hebrew mind always orientalised, and Jesus was no exception to the rule. Moreover, the advocates of this method of interpretation have discovered an utterance of Jesus which they think substantiates their position and indicates the real meaning which lies buried behind the symbol. In Matt. xxvi. 64, Jesus is reported to have said to Caiaphas, “ Henceforth ye shall see the Son of Man . . . coming on the clouds of heaven.” The term 44 henceforth ” (Matt, olti aon , Luke and tov vvv), it is argued, when taken in connection with the present participle 44 coming ” (igxojuevov), must imply a continuous advent. The phrase 44 coming on the clouds of heaven ” is parallel to 44 sitting at the right hand of the Father.” If the one denotes 44 continuity,” the other must denote continuity too. Furthermore, there is little doubt that the Parousia utterances of the Synoptics have been spiritualised in the fourth Gospel and made to denote the coming of the Para¬ clete and the abiding presence of Christ in the heart of the believer. As Dobschutz says, 44 The coming of the Lord promised by Himself as an outward eschatological act is changed into an inward mystical experience by the Johan- nine colouring of His words.” When we speak of the spiritualisation of the eschatological utterances by St. John, are we quite sure that the responsibility for this interpre¬ tation of the words rests entirely with the author of the fourth Gospel ? May not this element of mysticism have ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 85 had a place in the teaching of Jesus ? Is it not possible that the fourth Gospel may have preserved an element in the teaching of Jesus which was ignored by the synoptists, who fastened upon the more concrete and omitted the more abstract side of His utterances ? And if there was a mystical element in the teaching of Jesus, does not that mystical element afford us the key to the eschatology ? When Jesus spoke of the Messianic banquet, may he not have referred it in terms of Rev. iii. 20, “ Behold, I stand at the door and knock : if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me,” and may not the very metaphor at first have killed the hidden mystical meaning ? There is an undeniable plausibility about these arguments which gives them a very wide appeal to-day — but unfortun¬ ately the theory seems to win credence by ignoring one half of the facts and putting a construction on the other half which the languageof the Synoptics is scarcely able to bear No one can doubt for a moment the symbolism of the Parousia utterances. The only question is : How much is intended to be symbol and how much to be fact ? If Jesus intended his eschatological utterances to be a parable which was meant to teach the truths of mysticism to His followers we are bound to admit that, unless our present records have grossly erred in the transmission of His words, there seems to have been little relation between the parable itself and the message which the parable was intended to teach when properly interpreted. No one could maintain for a moment that the mystical idea is patent in the parables, or that such a conception would instinctively leap into the mind of the plain man when he read them. If this theory is true we shall have to say that Jesus spoke in riddles, and that the riddle was almost universally misinterpreted till the author of the fourth Gospel found the key. None of the different suggestions seems to do justice to the facts. The theory of Weiffenbach that the Parousia is an alternative mode of predicting the Resurrection cannot be maintained in face of the clear distinction which 86 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES is made between the two events in the Gospel narrative. The hypothesis that what is really referred to in these utterances is the bestowal of the Spirit upon the Church at Pentecost is equally difficult to justify. Such an interpre¬ tation was never put upon these statements in early times. The clear differentiation which was made between the two conceptions is well illustrated in the opening chapter of Acts. In answer to the question, Dost thou at this time restore the kingdom to Israel ? Jesus replies, 44 It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father hath set in his own authority. But ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you ” (Acts i. 7-8). Even in the fourth Gospel the Parousiais kept quite distinct from the bestowal of the Paraclete, and it is a mistake to suppose that the writer regarded them as equivalent. The last chapter of John could not have been added to the Gospel by any one who believed that theParousia promise had been fulfilled at Pentecost. Moreover, the injunctions to watch¬ fulness, such as we find, for instance, in the parable of the ten virgins, and the warning words of Matt. xxiv. 44, 44 Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man cometh,” or Luke xxi. 36, 44 Watch ye at every season, making supplication, that ye may prevail to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man,” would be otiose and meaningless if they were simply intended to refer to Pentecost. The explanation which suggests that the Parousia utterances are intended to teach in parabolic form the continuous coming of Christ in the history of the Church, and the faith of believers, or a series of historical acts by which the power of the exalted Messiah would be made manifest, is equally impossible. The proof text which is the mainstay of the theory, viz Matt. xxvi. 64, is not so conclusive as at first sight appears. It is only the Matthean form which can bear the interpretation of a continuous coming. Mark omits the introductory phrase translated 44 Henceforth,” and Luke has no reference to the 44 coming ” at alb And even in Matthew it is quite possible that the ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 87 idea of continuity may only attach to the first clause, 44 Henceforth ye shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of power,” the second clause being only loosely linked to the principal sentence. The addition of the words 44 on the clouds of heaven ” seems to rule out the possibility of the 44 coming ” being a continuous pro¬ cess. A great deal of licence is permitted to the imagina¬ tion of the Jewish mind when it treats of Apocalyptic, but surely not so much as this. 44 The clouds of heaven ” may well be used in a poetical sense of a single advent, but not of a continuous 44 coming.” It is unnecessary to point out that the use of the present participle (ig%6juevov) does not necessarily imply continuity. The title 44 the coming one ” was a technical expression used to denote the Messiah, and when so used only indicates a single advent. But the fatal objection to this interpretation of the verse lies in the fact that it seems to be completely at variance with the rest of the facts. It is quite clear that Jesus did not possess the necessary historical perspective to predict a continuous advent, spread over many centuries, in the history of the Church. His words are quite definite. His predictions are to be fulfilled within the lifetime of some of his followers “ This generation shall not pass away until all these things be accomplished ” (Mark xiii. 30). There is no possibility of explaining away this statement. It is not a valid argu¬ ment to say that the words just quoted are cancelled by Matt. xxiv. 36, 44 Of that day and hour knoweth no one, not even the angels in heaven, neither the Son.” Jesus is certain that the consummation will be reached within the present generation. It is only the particular day and the particular hour within the limits of that period to which any uncertainty attaches. Nor can we say that Jesus predicted a continu¬ ous coming within the first generation only. There is nothing apart from Pentecost in the history of the early Church which can be said to be the fulfilment of such a prediction. Moreover, once again the injunctions to watchfulness are quite out of keeping with the idea involved 88 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES in the continuous Advent. In Mark xiii. 35 we have the clear statement that the lord of the house may come “ at even, or at midnight, or at cockcrowing, or in the morning,” and the hypothesis that He may come at all four points of time, or that He may come even more than once seems to be definitely excluded. We are driven, therefore, reluctantly to the conclusion that the theory which makes the Parousia utterances a veiled and parabolic prediction of Pentecost, or a continuous advent in history, fails to do justice to the data in the Gospel narrative. IV The three most popular explanations of the Parousia utterances have been dismissed as inadequate. Is it possible to discover a more satisfactory solution of the problem ? The heart of the problem lies here. The Parousia utter¬ ances are genuine. They cannot be set aside as an intru¬ sion of Jewish ideas into the thought of Jesus. They cannot be treated as a parable. We are bound to suppose that Jesus intended them to be taken in their literal sense. And yet the predictions failed. The Parousia did not happen. How are we to reconcile the failure of these predictions with the fact of Christianity, to say nothing of the received Christology of the Church ? Why was it that the Christian religion did not collapse altogether, when the supreme promise of its founder was never realised ? What is the significance of these unrealised predictions for the modern mind ? The surest method of finding an answer of these questions will perhaps be by making an inquiry into the reasons (if we can discover them) which led Jesus into the region of eschatology. We have already seen that the eschato¬ logical outlook only becomes prominent in the teaching of Jesus after Caesarea Philippi; why was it introduced at all, and what purpose was it intended to serve ? If we ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 89 are to accept the statement of Mark, Jesus commenced his public ministry as a preacher of the kingdom, “ Let us go elsewhere into the next towns, that I may preach there also, for to this end came I forth ” (i. 38). If words mean anything, this phrase clearly proves that at the beginning of his career Jesus looked upon preaching as the mission of His life. At the outset the most startling success at¬ tended the new proclamation of the kingdom. It looked as if Jesus would win an instantaneous triumph. He leapt, almost at a single bound, into an embarrassing popularity. No more graphic description of his rapid achievements could be given than His own telling words, “ The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and men of violence take it by storm.” The days of triumph, however, were short-lived. A period of criticism followed which brought swift disillusionment. The religious leaders of the nation challenged point after point in His teaching, and made it quite plain that they at any rate were not prepared to accept His proclamation. Gradually the wave of popular enthusiasm which had hailed His first appearance began to abate its force. Even as early as the parable of the sower Jesus seems to have reached the conviction that three-fourths of the seed must necessarily be lost owing to the unsuitability of the soil, and to have sought an explana¬ tion of His failure, where so many others have sought it, in the terrible words of Isa. vi. 9, 10. The parables of the mustard seed and the leaven show that the hope of instantaneous success had vanished and Jesus was begin¬ ning to feel that time would be needed before His influence could become paramount. But worse was to follow. The opposition to Jesus grew in fierceness, and the criti¬ cism became more bitter and malignant. The ranks of His followers became thinned by desertion, till at last there was wrung from Him the despairing question which He put to His disciples, “ Will ye also go away ? ” The picture drawn by Mark of this epoch in His public ministry, as Professor Burkitt has pointed out, is the picture of an exile “ running off with His disciples hither and thither,” 90 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES seeking refuge in out-of-the-way places from the hatred of Herod Antipas and the antagonism of the religious leaders of the people. Gradually it seems to have borne in upon the mind of Jesus that preaching was too weak a weapon to destroy the vested interests which were ranged against Him, and that the Kingdom could never be established by this means alone. Some more powerful agency was needed to melt the hard hearts of His foes, and destroy the evil principles which closed the minds of men against the Gospel. Under similar circumstances, beneath the staggering disappointment of a like failure, John the Baptist had sought refuge and comfort in the belief in the Advent of a “ stronger one,” who would be able to supply the dynamic force which his own ministry lacked. 44 There cometh after me he that is mightier than I, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose.” But for Jesus no such consolation was possible. From first to last He seems to have been dominated by the unwavering belief that He Himself was to be the Saviour of Israel, and the greatest disappointment could not shake His confidence in this conviction. But preaching had failed and some¬ thing else was needed. That something else must be provided by Himself. There must be a great redemptive act which would inaugurate the triumph of the kingdom. Now in describing this transcendent act and the glorious triumph which was to follow it, Jesus seems to have been dependent upon the teaching of the Old Testament. It is a significant fact that neither in the two great passages which explain the import of His death nor yet in the pre¬ dictions of the Parousia, does Jesus advance even a single step beyond the consecrated and time-honoured language of the Old Testament. Almost every phrase which He employs could have been derived from three great verses in the Old Testament, viz. Exod. xxiv. 8, Dan. vii. 13, Ps. ex. 1. May we not say that this was absolutely inevit¬ able ? Does not the very essence of the Incarnation involve a self-imposed limitation ? Would not the possession of ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 91 unlimited foreknowledge by Jesus have destroyed the real meaning of the Incarnation, and have justified the Doketic theory ? Does not Jesus Himself recognise the restriction when He says, “ Of that day and that hour knoweth no man . . . not even the Son ” ? Jesus, therefore, was limited by His Jewish outlook and the current categories of the day in describing the character of the future triumph. He speaks on this subject out of the depths of the humanity which He had assumed. Keen though His vision was, it could not penetrate through the veil which hides the future from mortal eyes. As a natural consequence, we are bound to admit that He phrased His convictions in the familiar terms and forms of Jewish usage, and in these terms and forms the confident pre¬ dictions were never realised. No Parousia happened or will happen in the manner in which Jesus foretold it. Rut does not the mistake of Jesus (due to the limitation of foreknowledge involved in the Incarnation) with regard to the character of the Parousia, destroy the value of the eschatological utterances and impair the authority of His teaching ? If the external form were everything, the answer to this question would necessarily have to be in the affirmative. But the external form is not everything, and it is quite possible to strip off the Jewish dress in which Jesus clothes His convictions and to grasp the underlying truths which He is striving to teach. Beneath the Jewish categories and thought-forms there is a ding an sick, as Kant called it, which constitutes the essential reality, and it is only when we have discovered this ding an sich that we shall be able to appreciate the significance of the escha¬ tological utterances for the modern mind. What, then, are the ultimate truths involved in the Parousia predictions, and how can we translate them into terms of modern thought ? (1) We may say in the first place with Professor Burkitt that the eschatological utterances are “ the natural way of expressing faith and hope in the triumph of good over evil.” The work of Jesus seemed to have ended in dismal failure* 92 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES The shadow of the Cross lay upon Him, and that Cross appeared even to His most intimate followers to be the symbol of disaster. And yet, in spite of all, we find an invincible optimism, which breaks out in eschatological expression, dominating the later utterances of Jesus. For Him failure is an impossibility ; the disaster of to-day is only the prelude of the triumph of to-morrow. The first message of the eschatological utterances is the message of Hope in the final victory of the Gospel. (2) But we may go further than Professor Burkitt. If the eschatological utterances are merely an indication that the mind of Jesus, as He went to meet His fate, was buoyed up with a vague hope that in some mysterious way the verdict of the Jews would be reversed by future generations, and His own failure be transformed into a glorious triumph, if they are simply another reiteration of the conviction “ that somehow good will be the final goal of ill,” they afford us but little consolation after all. The heroic spirit may be kindled within us by the contagion of the example of Jesus. We may catch a ray of hope perhaps to cheer us in our moments of disappointment, but a vague and indefinite optimism can never be a permanent solution of the religious problem or a final satisfaction of the cravings of the human soul. We are forced to ask, Upon what was the confidence of Jesus grounded, and what was it that made Him so sure about the future ? The answer to these questions must surely be this : The hope of Jesus was not merely based upon His faith in God, it was based also upon the consciousness that His death would consummate or at any rate symbolise the establishment of a new covenant-relationship between man and God which would be the pledge and surety of the victory of good over evil. The eschatological utterances cannot be separated from the statements with regard to the death upon the Cross. They stand side by side in the narrative. The one supplements the other. The Cross issues in the Parousia — the Parousia gains all its mean¬ ing from the Cross. We may say, therefore, that the ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 9 8 eschatological elements express the triumph which is to follow the sacrifice offered on Calvary. %/ (3) Furthermore, these utterances claim that Jesus is to be the Lord of the future. Death does not end His relationship to the Church and to the race : it only en¬ hances and enlarges that relationship. From the throne of God in heaven He is to sway the destinies of mankind. As the Apostle Paul puts it, 44 He must reign till He has put all enemies under His feet.” This is a tremendous claim to make, and one which lifts Jesus out of all human categories at once. There is no hint in the Gospels of the possibility that Jesus could ever have a successor. In fact, such an idea is most definitely excluded. A Socrates is followed by a Plato, an Aeschylus by a Sophocles, a Seneca by an Epictetus, an Isaiah by a Jeremiah, but Jesus is, if the phrase may be allowed, His own successor. No earthly teacher could ever take up His work as He had taken up the work of John the Baptist; only the heavenly Christ could carry to fulfilment the work of the historical Jesus. These eschatological claims, unless we are prepared to doubt their authenticity or deny their value, effectually prevent us from reducing Jesus to the rank of an ethical teacher or a religious reformer. They differentiate Him at once from all other prophets and leaders, and compel us to recognise that He is, sui generis, in a class altogether by Himself And more than this — they help to bridge over the gulf between the synoptic Gospels and the Epistles of St. Paul There is undoubtedly a great contrast between the picture of the historical Jesus in the Synoptics and the Pauline conception of Christ, but the Christ of the Parousia utterances is practically identical with the Christ of St. Paul. (4) Lastly, these utterances clearly teach us that the Kingdom of God cannot come from below, but must come from above. The Kingdom cannot be established by the mere evolution of human society. It will never be reached simply by the improvement and education of the human 94 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES race. It can never be attained by social progress and development alone. The city of God must descend from heaven, it can never be evolved from the earth. There must be a Divine intervention, an act of God before it can come into real being. The death upon the Cross, which seemed to the disciples little less than the wanton sacrifice of a precious life, and which the ordinary sympathetic historian regards as a splendid act of martyrdom, not unlike that of Socrates, was to Jesus Himself the essential precondition which made the advent of the Kingdom possible and constituted its inauguration. And this was only the first of a long series of Divine interventions in the history of the Church. The story of the Church is one long illustration of the words of the old prophet, “Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the Lord.” If it be objected that these statements do not seem to cover the whole range of meaning which the utterances contain, and that they leave out the points which are most obvious in the sayings of Jesus and which riveted the attention of the Church from the first, the answer is that every attempt to translate poetry into prose must neces¬ sarily seem cold and ineffectual. The sayings as they come from the mouth of Jesus are couched in language which is a foreign tongue to modern ears, and it is only when we strip off the Apocalyptic dress in which they are garbed that we can make them intelligible to the modern mind Unfortunately it was the poetry in these utterances that caught the imagination of the Church in the early ages, and the first interpretation has maintained its ground almost ever since that time, except in periods of criticism when the whole idea of the Parousia fell into neglect. Such is the significance of the Parousia utterances for the modern mind. They illustrate the indestructibility of the Christian Hope which triumphs over all difficulties and faces the future with serenity. They provide a sure founda¬ tion and basis for this Hope by resting it on the sacrifice of Christ, and so rescue it from the suspicion that it is merely ESCHATOLOGICAL UTTERANCES OF JESUS 95 a vague and shallow optimism. They imply a transcen¬ dental conception of the Person of Christ by portraying Him as Lord of the future, seated at the right hand of God and swaying the destinies of the human race. And, finally, they teach us that the Kingdom of God must come from God and cannot be evolved by man •• ESSAY IV PROLEGOMENA TO THE STUDY OF THEOLOGY Rev. Arthur C. Head lam., D.D. e SYNOPSIS I. Definition of Theology. Historical and Dogmatic Theology. Religion and Theology. II. Sources of Theology — Natural and Revealed Religion. (1) Comparative Religion. Evolution of Religion. Development of Greek Religion. The Consensus gentium. (2) Philosophy of Religion. The Interpretation of Nature. The Limits of Scientific Know¬ ledge. Science and Theism. Evolution. The Interpretation of Mind. Scientific Psychology. Relation of the Brain to Thought. The Interpretation of the Moral Nature. The Interpretation of the Sense of Beauty. The Problem of Knowledge. The Limits of Human Thought. The Hypothetical Method. Religion the Creation of Feeling. Religion and Society. III. The Psychology of Religion. The Sub-conscious. Spiritual Ex¬ perience. Religious and Scientific Certitude. Value Judgments. Faith. Mysticism. Authority. PROLEGOMENA TO THE STUDY OF THEOLOGY Theology is the science which teaches us about God. The term may be used in a more limited sense to mean the knowledge of God in Himself, and is thus distinguished from other branches of religious knowledge such as Soteri- ology or the science of human redemption ; but more generally it is used for the science of God in the widest sense, so as to mean not only our knowledge of His being and nature, but also of His relations to the world and to man, of man’s relations to Him, and of the relation of men to one another as dependent upon their relation to Him. It therefore embraces the whole of human life and experience as viewed in relation to God. In the ordinary usage of the word, Theology is concerned with the conception of one God. The term might of course be used of the heathen conceptions which imply the belief in more than one God, but ordinarily the term Mythology would be so employed. It can be used quite correctly for such monotheistic con¬ ceptions as those of Mohammedanism, and also for the various theistic systems which have represented the highest attainments of human speculation or have grown up as the indirect result of Christianity. Ordinarily, however, it signifies Christian Theology, which may be defined as the science of God as revealed in Christ. Theology may be historical or dogmatic. The former concerns itself with the history of the various beliefs and opinions which have been held in the past, or prevail at the present time : it confines itself to a description of belief or at most to a systematisation. Dogmatic Theology at¬ tempts to define what is true. It discusses the reasons for believing in God, the knowledge that can be attained of His nature, His work in creation, what He has done for man, H 2 99 100 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES and what should be man’s attitude to Him. On all these and similar questions it aims at arriving at correct opinions, to discuss not what has been believed, but what ought to be believed. A knowledge of historical development is of course necessary both to understand the questions that are asked and to supply the materials for arriving at an answer ; but in studying dogmatic theology the history should always be subordinate. Its purpose is to state with all humility and reverence what is believed to be true concerning all the most momentous questions of human life. Theology is one side of religion. Religion in its most complete sense means a disposition of the whole life of man. It always implies a belief in a power or powers outside man¬ kind on which man is dependent, and it is perhaps hardly correct to use the term except in relation to a personal being or beings. In any case religion is a 44 life,” a dis¬ position of a man’s whole being. It implies, therefore, on its intellectual side, an interpretation of life, and theo¬ logy is this interpretation of life on the basis of a belief in God, a belief which is of course an essential part of Christianity, which seems to be the characteristic of all higher religious thought, and may be represented as the goal to which all earlier thought tends. In relation to conduct religion gives the rule for the conduct of life as a whole. And further, as a necessary result of the attitude of dependence on an unseen power which is, as has been suggested, a necessary characteristic of religion, one of its essential features is 44 worship,” which is often considered to be the specifically religious branch of con¬ duct. It is, of course, true that many representations of religion are imperfect. In some the intellectual side is dormant, in others the relation of religion to moral conduct is obscured; in some the sense of worship may be deficient, in others it may be exaggerated and uncontrolled. We are concerned, however, with the ideas of religion and theology in their higher developments, and we may be satisfied therefore with our definition that religion means the interpretation of life as a whole, both as regards knowledge PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 101 and conduct; that, as the true interpretation of life is that which represents man as dependent upon God, it implies a system of human conduct deduced from this attitude of dependence, and as its intellectual basis a theology or science of God, of His relation to the world, and the relation of man to Him. The primary question in Theology must be, What is the source of our knowledge of God ? Where can we obtain any knowledge about Him ? What is the value of such knowledge ? It was an old-fashioned custom to make a division between natural and revealed religion. Natural religion was that which men were able to attain by reason or other mental gifts with which God had endowed them. Revealed religion was that particular and higher knowledge of God given to man in the Jewish and Christian reve¬ lations. There are many now who would refuse to make this distinction. They would argue that the revelation of Christianity, however wonderful it might be, differed not so much in character but only in degree from other revela¬ tions ; that in fact all religions are revealed or at any rate contain an element of revelation, that God had spoken “ in sundry times and in divers manners ” to all nations upon earth. The use of the term 44 revealed religion,” there¬ fore, as opposed to natural religion, is incorrect. This may be true. Fundamentally the distinction may be unsound, but it is a convenient one to accept. The records of religious knowledge can be investigated apart from any direct reference to the Christian revelation. We must ask where men have found, or have fancied that they have found, witness to the existence of God and some knowledge of His being, His nature and His work. An investigation of the sources of Natural Religion means, on the one hand, a study of the different forms of religion which have actually existed or Comparative Religion, and, on the other hand, an introspective analysis of our own religious consciousness, so as to discover what is the method by which men have been or are able to attain knowledge. 102 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES It is by the interaction of these two methods of study, by the interpretation of the religious phenomena of the world in the light of our own individual consciousness, that the philosophy of religion has been built up. Man is essentially religious. Whether or no there are races of men at the present day so undeveloped as to be entirely without religion, may be a matter of controversy. It is now generally believed that there are not. At any rate, the great mass of the human race is religious, and this is the natural and inevitable result of the strange and enigmatic position in which man finds himself. He is a being endowed with reason and consciousness. For a brief period he lives in a world of the origin of which he knows nothing. Within the space of a few years this world will, for him, quite certainly, cease to be. He is endowed with visions, hopes and aspirations, with feelings, fancies and desires. He is exposed to varied fortunes. He endures joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain. He finds himself surrounded on all sides by other beings like himself. Whence did he come ? Whither does he go ? Why is he placed in the world ? How did the world come to be what it is ? All these questions he inevitably asks, so soon as he begins to be conscious of himself. At first dimly groping, gradually, as he thinks with increasing know¬ ledge, he makes his way in the world. He attempts to interpret the life he is living, to find some guide to direct his conduct, and thus he builds up for himself a religious system. The religious beliefs that men have thus acquired vary immensely in character. They range from the lowest forms of magic and fetishism to the loftiest philosophical doctrines of the greatest thinkers. Here we have a phenomenon of stupendous importance. What significance can we attach to it ? The comparative study of religion has assumed great importance in the present day, partly owing to the fact that our increased knowledge of the world has brought home to us the immense variety of religious belief, partly owing to the influence of those theories which are usually described PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 103 by the somewhat misleading term 44 evolutionary,” and aim at tracing the development of all human thoughts and ideas from one common source. A law of progress which may present an analogy with the discoveries of science is sought. The different stages of religious belief are mapped out, the development of the higher from the lower is traced, and it is contended that the higher and more philosophical forms have been evolved out of the lower. Now here, as elsewhere, we shall find that a good deal of confusion of thought has arisen from the use of the word 44 evolution.” Any claim to have discovered an adequate law of the development of religion is at present entirely invalid, but even if such a theory had been discovered, it does not follow, as some have imagined, that religion itself has been explained or that its objective value and truth have been diminished. Let us take the analogy of our knowledge of the natural world. It has advanced by slow and devious ways from very rudimentary beginnings to its present position. Each generation has considered that the knowledge which it possessed constituted a more or less correct presentation of the outer world. Sub¬ sequent generations discover how inadequate or even erroneous this is, and none of us can doubt that the knowledge of future generations will correct that of the present day. There is an evolution in Natural Philosophy, the interpretation of Nature, just as much as in Religion, the interpretation of Life. But we do not doubt Natural science for all that, we believe that there is in it a gradually closer approximation to truth. So also, if religion has advanced by equally strange and devious ways, and if later generations have learned to look upon the beliefs of their forefathers as erroneous, it does not follow therefore that religion is without value ; rather we may say that if religion be the attempt to explain life as a whole, the human intellect may in it approach nearer and nearer to ultimate truth, just as we believe it does in regard to physical science. The fact of development, so far from weakening our belief in the ultimate value of religion, shows us that 104 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES we are dealing not with a chaotic and unmeaning mass of facts, but with a rational product of the human mind. It is probable that the possibility of advance in religious thought is more obscure than in other sides of human life, because of the persistency with which older forms of belief live on side by side with higher forms, often intermingling with them. It is only occasionally that we can trace out a clear line of development, and in later times the influence of Christianity has left few spheres of thought untouched, so that a purely natural development is hard to discover. But in this as in other lines of intellectual development, Greek thought presents us with a clear and typical illus¬ tration. Here, from the popular religion as represented in Homer to the philosophic thought of Plato, we can see signs of a clear and definite advance. Poets and philosophers shared in the work. Commercial activity and changed conditions of life enlarged the sphere of human experience. Plato himself never obtained the clear vision of one personal God, but he reached the threshold of it. His philosophy is religious in its concep¬ tion and purpose. He summed up all the best thought of his time, he provided answers to its most difficult conceptions, he represented the culmination of a rapid development of thought. But however great his attain¬ ments he shows us the failure and limitations of religious philosophy. He failed to create a religion. Pie had little influence except possibly for evil in his own day. It was future generations that he taught, and the chief result of his speculations to the world only came when they were merged in Christian thought, when they became part of a creed and life, as well as a system of philosophy. The comparative and historical study of religion, so far from explaining it away or necessarily casting a doubt on the truth of Christianity, suggests that here, as elsewhere, we have that possibility of rational and orderly develop¬ ment in human thought which implies a real basis of truth to which it is approaching. At any rate, we have a phenomenon worthy of careful and thoughtful study. PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 105 In what way does it supply a source for our theological knowledge ? An attempt has been made, on the supposi¬ tion (which is sufficiently true for our purpose) that all men are religious, to found an argument for the existence of God. This argument has been called the consensus gentium. In the form, however, in which it has been customary to state it, it is difficult to find any very sub¬ stantial proof. It is true, indeed, that all, or almost all, men are religious, but that does not in itself give an argu¬ ment in favour of any one particular form which religion has held. Any deductions which we make must be some¬ thing less definite. A study of religions will show, in the first place, the universal character of the need for religion amongst mankind as a whole. This need might be further proved by the fact that in countries where the old established faith has been for any reason broken down or dis¬ credited, there are inevitably outbreaks of new and strange forms of religious activity. Religious life may appear dormant for a time, there are individuals who seem little touched by religious needs, there are stages and periods of civilisation during which religion seems less powerful than at other times, but all observation shows that religion, in some form, is a permanent need of human life. Then, next, we can learn from comparative religion the different problems of life which religion attempts to solve, and the human needs that require satisfaction. However much religions may vary, we find that they all have certain marked features. They give an explanation of the creation of the world, they define the nature and origin of man, they tell him of the nature of the mysterious powers that surround him, they attempt to explain the origin of evil, to give him a rule of conduct and an ideal of worship, to provide him with spiritual aid and a means of redemption from evil, to tell him of his future beyond the grave. All these questions receive some sort of answer in most reli¬ gious systems. Then, thirdly, a study of religions may give us the law of religious development. If we can find that law, if we can discover the principles on which religion 106 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES has advanced from its lower to its higher forms, we may have some evidence of what the true nature of religion is in itself. A mere study, however, of Comparative Religion will not in itself advance us far on the road to discover what is true; and we turn to the other possible source of religious truth, the study of the origin of religious thought and knowledge in our own mind, and the explanation of religion from our own personal experience. This is what is usually known as the Philosophy of Religion. The Philosophy of Religion is coincident in its scope with all philosophical study, but it approaches the same questions from a definite point of view of its own. Religion is, as we described it, the interpretation of life. It has been an attempt made by man in his corporate capacity to give some explanation of the environment in which he finds himself, and his own origin and destiny. At first it included almost the whole of life. Gradually its sphere appears to have been diminished by the work of specialised knowledge in many directions, and the building up of all the different departments of human activity. But this contraction of influence is more apparent than real. Every department of life still comes in contact with religious ideas, and the ultimate questions of life with which religion is concerned, and to which some answer, if only a provisional one, is necessary as a guide to conduct, are as urgent as ever. As society becomes more developed, and knowledge grows wider, the higher questions are often concealed by the increasing complexity, and by the infinitude of detail ; but their importance is only obscured, not diminished, and the religious instinct, if repressed, will certainly reassert itself. We have to examine, then, critically, all the different departments of human experience, and inquire what ele¬ ments they contribute to the knowledge of true religion. First of all the interpretation of nature. Probably the earliest question in the dawn of human intelligence to which man desires an answer is the source of the natural pheno- PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 107 mena around him, and it has long been the conviction of most theologians that 44 the invisible things of God from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead.” It is, however, widely believed that the great discoveries of Natural Science, which have characterised the last three centuries, have weakened or destroyed this argument. An opinion has become prevalent — not, indeed, a new one, for it goes back to the earliest period of Greek philosophy — which would interpret the universe as purely mechanical. No doubt men’s minds have been bewildered by the great increase of knowledge. The vision of the unity of nature, and the marvellous additions to our knowledge of the way in which nature works, have obscured the limitations of the scientific interpretations of the world. The use of a great deal of unscientific terminology, the mis¬ use of words like 44 law ” and 44 cause,” the construction of 44 philosophies ” of nature, remarkable for their confused thought, have helped to conceal the fact that science gives no answer to any of the questions with which religion is concerned. All that science can do is to analyse the processes of nature. From sources entirely outside the observation and experiment which are the legitimate tools of science there have been interpolated the ideas of Law and Cause, which are metaphysical, not scientific. All that science discovers is that certain events invariably precede certain others. It discovers that if A and B occur, C occurs. It further discovers that by combining A and B we can produce C. In no sense, except in the purely scientific one of being an invariable antecedent, can we say that A and B cause C, as we can say that we cause C when we produce it by artificially combining A and B. The idea of “ cause ” is something quite apart from our scientific investigations, something brought in by analogy with human actions, and for the sake of clear thought it should be eliminated from any philosophical account of what science has discovered. So again, to say that there is a law that A and B must produce C may be most misleading. 108 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES We may, indeed, for the sake of convenience, use the term “law of nature” to describe the generalisations by which we sum up the invariable successions, which, as a matter of fact, meet us everywhere in nature, but for the sake of clear thinking we must recognise that the term 44 law,” when used by science, only means a higher generalisation. But the ordinary connotation of the term suggests a meaning which seems to imply the existence of some outside constraining influence, so that it appears not only to describe phenomena but also to explain them. When we speak of laws of gravitation or laws of motion, all we assert is that material bodies move towards one another in a certain way which can be calculated, but the use of the misleading word 44 law ” inevitably suggests the quite erroneous idea that we have discovered some external compelling force which controls and regulates these movements. All that science does, then, is to discover the way in which things happen in the world. It does not answer or attempt to answer the question which religion asks — What are the cause and purpose of the world ? It has, indeed, so far changed the question, and purified the religious idea by showing that it is not for religion to ask the cause and purpose of each individual act, but rather the cause and purpose of the world as a whole. Science has not created any substitute for religion, or given any answer to the questions which religion or philosophy ask, but it has helped in the purification of the religious idea. But it may be asked, Have not the discoveries of science done much to weaken the arguments in favour of Theism which were drawn from the constitution of nature ? Science has shown, or at any rate believes that it has shown, that nature is one, that is, that the whole world as we know it, including man, is the result of certain uniform processes which have continued through immense periods of time, by which the universe has been developed from the simplest elements. Let us assume that the original undifferentiated nebula has by certain chemical PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 109 and physical processes come to be the world as we know it. This will, of course, include human beings, for man¬ kind must be looked upon as a part of the world. The proof of this is, indeed, by no means complete. The theory is still largely hypothetical, a construction of the scientific imagination, but no doubt something like it is true. But even if we admit this, the argument from the world to the creation of the world is not only as cogent as it ever was, but probably somewhat stronger. If we reflect a moment it will become obvious that the world might have developed in an infinite number of dif¬ ferent ways. Why has it developed in the way that it has ? If we discover that all the different parts are fitted and adapted to one another, this equally demands an explanation just as much if this is the result of develop¬ ment as if it were the result of special creation. How did it come to be that there was a process of development which produced a world in which the different parts are marvellously adapted to each other ? How has an irrational and fortuitous collection of undifferentiated atoms come to produce an entirely rational world ? We may not be able to find any solution of the problem, but the problem remains in spite of all the discoveries of science, or rather the discoveries of science have only intensified the mystery. Setting aside the exceptions taken to this argument of quite another order, which will meet us when we consider the problem of knowledge, it is sufficient for the present to lay down that the discoveries of science do not in any way touch on the sphere of religion in itself. No doubt religion, as we have inherited it, has been associated with the erroneous, or at any rate antiquated, scientific theories of previous generations, and there is always a danger that we may hamper future generations by associating it too closely with the doubtless imperfect scientific conceptions of the present day ; but religion in itself is not touched by any of these changes. Science should be allowed perfect freedom for its own work ; it may succeed in showing — it 110 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES has not done so yet — how life comes out of matter, and how mind comes out of life. It will still not have touched on any of the problems of religion. It will not have explained the cause and purpose of the world. The world will still present all the features that it has seemed to many to do in the past of a rational ordered whole, showing clear and unmistakable signs of a purposeful origin ; it may still be held to show that marvellous adjustment of parts which has seemed to many to imply the existence of an all- powerful reason ; it will still contain all those characteristics which have aroused men’s wonder and admiration, and have stirred, too, their deepest religious emotions. From the point of view of religion science has only made the world more wonderful; it presents the same problems as in the past, only on a larger scale. The opposition which has prevailed between the two must be solved by allowing each to be supreme within its own sphere. Quite early in human experience men learn to distinguish between themselves and the world outside them, and in themselves between their soul or mind and their body. And while they feel that the body seems somehow to be part of the world, they look upon their soul or mind as something apart from it, and they feel somehow that this soul of theirs, which appears to have an existence separate from the things around it, bears witness to the existence of an order of Being apart from, and different from, the world. We need not pursue here the steps by which this knowledge seems to have grown up, or the form that it has taken ; we ask rather, now, what answer at the present day we should give to such problems. Now a science has grown up with the purpose of studying in a scientific manner the phenomena of the human mind, which bears the name of psychology. Here there are a series of pheno¬ mena which we can study in two spheres, in the workings of our own mind, introspectively, and in the workings of the minds around us. Now scientific psychology would claim that the same scientific principles apply to these phenomena PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 111 as to other observed facts in the world. The phenomena are complicated, it is true, but are capable of exact observ¬ ation. Here, as elsewhere in nature, similar phenomena are followed by similar results. Here, as in other branches of scientific investigation, we can make generalisations, or, as we call them, laws. We can within certain limits predict what will happen, and by the use of knowledge gained we can produce results that we desire. We can trace what appears to be an upward development from life to instinct, and from instinct to reason. We know that there is a close and intimate connection between the phenomena of the mind and of the body ; they act and react on one another; the world of thought and ideas is so intimately connected with the physical constitution of the brain, that an injury to the brain hampers and perhaps entirely destroys the work of the mind. Is it, then, really true that there is any mind apart from body ? Are not we merely dealing with certain functions of a physical brain ? Is not mind simply a development of matter ? There has always been a certain plausibility about such a theory, but philosophy has always ultimately repudiated it, and the advance made by physiology and scientific psychology has not really done anything to change the problems which continue to perplex the human reason. It is true, of course, that we now know certainly that the brain is the seat of thought, that we have done a good deal to map out the functions of the different parts of the brain, that we are studying accurately the physical machinery of human thought, that we can trace the analogy between the brain of men and of animals. We have, in fact, substituted some measure of scientific accuracy for the empirical generalisation of older days. A little reflection, however, will show us that we have not really explained anything. We may put the problem in various ways. How can a physical fact become a mental state ? When I think, there is a change, you say, in the molecules of the brain. Granted. But a change of molecules is not a thought, 112 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES how can it become one ? We are, in fact, dealing with two entirely different phenomena, closely connected, it is true, in their working, but entirely distinct in their nature. The thoughts, the ideas, the emotions of the human mind belong to a different order of phenomena from the physical changes in the structure of the brain, and no philosophy starting from a position which seems materialist has ever explained how the one becomes the other. Or, again, we may put the problem in another way. How do I explain my consciousness of the world ? How can I, who am clearly in one sense a part of the world, get as I seem to do outside it, know it, act as a cause of events which modify it, interfere with it, have an existence which is separate from it. I am conscious of myself apart from the world, and this “X” clearly has a continuous existence. I not only receive impressions from outside, I can remember them and compare them with one another. Whatever X may be, at any rate I have a continuity of existence as a receptacle of all those impressions and ideas which go to make up the world which appears to be outside myself. Clearly, then, we have facts to be ex¬ plained which the scientific study of things cannot explain, and these facts suggest the existence of a human mind which makes use of the body, which is conditioned by the body, which finds in the body the machinery by which it works, but is itself apart from the body. It is questions such as these that men have sought to answer in their religious beliefs, and that still seem to demand a solution very different from any which a purely scientific investi¬ gation can give. But we must pass now to another part of our experience. We discover ourselves to be moral beings. Not only do we know things, not only do we desire things, not only do we do things, but we also feel that there are certain things which we ought to do, or will or desire. We not only say that a thing is, we say that certain things ought to be. We have, in fact, what we call a moral life, and this shows PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 118 itself not only in the fact that we make moral judgments, as they are called, but also that we have a conscience, that we have feelings of remorse and contrition, and a sense of sin, as St. Paul describes it, “ their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another.” It will be remembered that when we spoke of the study of religion, we referred to the modern scientific and objective method of research. The same method is now followed with regard to moral questions. The moral facts of the world are collected, arranged, classified. Theories of evolution and development are discussed, the laws of growth are investigated, and it is suggested that if we can show how the moral facts of the world have grown, we can explain them. Against this it must be maintained that a description of the methods and cir¬ cumstances of growth is no explanation of a fact. It is quite true that there has been an advance and a growth in moral judgments, that just as our scientific knowledge has become better, just as religion becomes more elevated, so morality also develops. This is undoubtedly true, although the laws of advance are very complicated and here, more than anywhere else, progress is intermittent. Moral degeneration is as real a fact in history as moral progress. But grant all this scientific inquiry and its results, it never touches the real questions. It never explains why men are moral, and why they have a con¬ science, and why they are burdened with the sense of sin and feelings of remorse. It is no explanation to say that these characteristics have been evolved, for that only drives us farther back to the question how it came to be that men are such that they should evolve in this way. It is no explanation to say that it is society that makes us moral ; human society has developed as it has because man is moral, just as its growth has been conditioned by the fact that men are religious. Religion demands an explanation of why things are what they are, and the problem of morality is one of those which has to be solved, i 114 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES But men pass not only judgments of truth, not only moral judgments, they also regard things as beautiful or the reverse. We are here touching on a branch of thought which has generally been neglected, but a little consideration will, I think, convince us that it is a real field of inquiry. When we say that a thing is beautiful we express a judgment quite different from that which we make when we say that a thing is true; it is certainly also different from what we mean when we say that an action is right. Moreover, we clearly imply when we think of 44 beauty ” that there is some objective standard by which we can judge, although here, even more than in the case of morals, the influence of individual taste seems to obscure our judgment. But both the collective conscious¬ ness of mankind and individual attempts at self-improve¬ ment imply the assumption that there is an objective standard of beautv, and that it is beneficial to attain to it. And if there are good reasons for looking upon the concep¬ tion of the Beautiful as something which corresponds to an objective reality, it is certainly true that the sense of the Beautiful has had much to do in many minds with the growth of Religion. Nor have religious thinkers failed to see the religious power of the sense of beauty. “ Suppose,” writes Plato, 44 it were permitted to one to behold the Beautiful itself, clear and pure and unalloyed, not tainted by human flesh, or colours or any of the manifold varieties of mortal existence, but the divine Beauty as it really is in its simplicity, do you think that it would be an ignoble life that one should gaze thereon, and ever contemplate that Beauty and hold communion therewith ? Do you not rather believe that in this communion only will it be possible for a man, beholding the Beautiful with the organ by which alone it can be seen, to beget not images of virtue but realities, for that which he embraces is not an image but the truth, and having begotten and nourished true virtue to become the friend of God and attain to immortality if ever mortal has attained.” Philosophers are often very one-sided and partial in PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 115 their outlook on life. They have limited their field of \ inquiry to one or two main problems, and they have ignored the question, What is the meaning and idea of Beauty ? But if any one would explain human life, it demands an answer, and the unconscious processes of the human mind which have built up religions have probably been rightly influenced by this, as by other and more con¬ spicuous and perhaps more urgent problems. We have now considered certain fundamental questions which must be answered by any scheme which would explain human life. How do we account for the world ? How do we account for the human soul ? How do we account for its moral content, and its sense of beauty ? How, in fact, do we account for man’s intellectual life ? It is these questions that Religion and Philosophy have attempted to answer, and of which we desire, if possible, a true and correct explanation. But when we begin to attempt to answer, we are at once confronted with the question : What knowledge can man attain about such things; has he the means, the opportunity, the equipment to enable him to approach these questions at all ? We have so far followed certain lines of investiga¬ tion which have engaged the attention of the human mind from an early time, and we have assumed its capacity to obtain the knowledge that it desires. We have followed cer¬ tain lines of development and thought, but logically there is a question which ought to have preceded our investi¬ gations. What means have we for carrying these on, and what method have we for discovering whether our results are correct ? We have assumed the ordinary view of the world. But an analysis of the whole fabric of human knowledge will show us what a very little way it goes. We talk of the world, but we find that the world is only the name that we give for what we assume to be the cause of certain sensations that we experience. We usually talk of material things and of matter as something that exists, but a very little consideration is sufficient to 116 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES show us that we have really no knowledge of it at all. We find that all the ideas which we seem to get from things we put into them. We say that a thing is red, but a little thought convinces us that redness is not a quality of a thing but a sensation of our mind which is caused, we have reason to believe, by the reflection of certain rays of light from an object. We say a thing is heavy, but we only really know that we have a feeling caused by the strain on our muscles when we hold it up. The idea of extension in space means that some things require greater effort than others to reach. In fact what we call the outer world is an explanation of a complicated sense of sensation in our own minds. And, again, when we examine certain more abstract ideas, we find that we do not derive them from the world but impress them upon it. We speak of “ cause ” in nature, but we do not find “ cause ” by a scientific inves¬ tigation of the world, we read the idea into our own explanations. We know of ourselves as originating things, and we desire to find some similar cause for other things. We habitually speak of the uniformity of nature, but is it an idea that we have derived from nature or read into nature ? Without concerning ourselves with a discussion of the different theories which have been held to explain our know¬ ledge, it is sufficient to recognise that it may ultimately be analysed into two elements, that which appears to come from our sensations, and that which the mind itself gives, a conclusion which seems to harmonise with what we have already maintained concerning the reality of the existence of the human mind. But we have a further question to ask : If this be so, whence does the mind get the thoughts and ideas which it contributes to knowledge ? Has it some source of knowledge other than sensation ? In old days there existed various schools of thought which based their knowledge of things on the intuitions of the mind. A more accurate analysis has, it is generally agreed, shown that there are no grounds for this belief, PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 117 and it has been held further that what the mind itself contributes to the fabric of knowledge is the necessary forms of thought. Human reason, then, is valid within the limits of experience, but what grounds have we for using it of things outside its experience ? The great questions that we have asked take us beyond the limits of our experience; beyond the limits within which we can prove the validity of our reasoning processes ; where, then, is the possibility of obtaining an answer to them ? It is well known that Kant, to whom we owe our analysis of knowledge, and the limitation of the sphere of the speculative reason, found in an appeal to the practical reason a provisional answer to these questions. We could not, he maintained, account for the existence of a moral sense unless we presupposed the existence of God and certain dependent beliefs. This, indeed, has not been accepted as universally as his more negative criti¬ cism, but even the negative criticism is accepted by few in its completeness. And this negative criticism is itself a double-edged weapon. It is quite true that it may be used to destroy the creations of those who have built up for us imposing dogmatic constructions, but it also shows that such criticism has no real validity. If we cannot say what morality is, we are equally unable to say what it is not. It may be suggested that there is a basis on which a provisional answer may be made to all such questions. The mind constructs an hypothesis to explain the facts of life. It no longer claims to prove, as the old dogmatists claimed to prove, what must be : what it does is to con¬ struct a system which can give a provisional explanation of experience. This is, it seems to me, what the religious sense of man has always done. It has formulated certain ideas which give the most satisfactory answer possible at the time to the questions asked. As experience grows, these ideas expand and develop. Ideas based on a limited experience are found to be inadequate and false. They make way for wider and more complete generalisations. 118 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES We are not satisfied with any theories which fail to explain the whole of human nature. On this basis we may criticise various systems of religious philosophy which have from time to time been constructed. Their chief characteristic is that they have attempted to prove the existence of God. But no such proof is possible, if, as we have maintained, our methods of demonstration are only valid within the limits of experience. Since the time of Kant similar attempts have been made to build up on a logical basis a philosophy of the Absolute. Such systems also are equally destitute of logical cogency. They are, in fact, hypotheses, the value of which really depends on the degree in which they adequately explain life and experience. A similar criticism applies to the various hylozoistic systems which have become fashionable as furnishing a basis for modern science. All these systems attempt to do by a logical process what cannot be so done, and therefore fail. We would suggest the following alternative method. The human mind demands an answer to all the various questions which concern the meaning and purpose of life. That theory which most adequately explains life as a whole will be the one which carries most conviction. J Kant, as we have seen, admits the existence of God as a postulate of the practical reason. If that hypothesis helps further to explain the problem of the existence of the world, and of the human mind, if it further gives a rational and satis¬ fying account of the ideal conception of beauty, then the weight of reason for believing it becomes increasingly urgent. So far we have been considering purely intellectual questions. But it is very doubtful whether the intellect has been at all the chief force in creating religion. We have seen that religion is a theory of life, it is an inter¬ pretation of the life of man as a whole, and we know that in the life of men the intellect plays only a small part. Those who have studied the philosophy of religion have, of PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 119 course, been almost always men of great intellectual power, and intellectual questions have consciously played a large part in their lives. But this is not the case with the great mass of men. Intellectual questions do not directly trouble them much. It is possible, indeed, to press this argument too far, because even if men do not consciously ask questions, they are still uneasy if they have not a satisfactory guide or system of life. Still life itself is for them much more than any theory about it. Their feelings and desires, their emotions and passions play by far the largest part in their life. They want a theory or rule or sys¬ tem of life which adequately responds to all their complex being. What is the end and meaning and purpose of this strange human life with its high aspirations and ideals, with its limited powers and opportunities of enjoy¬ ment, with its yearnings for beauty and goodness and truth, with its aspirations after a larger life, with its power of love, and then at the same time with its degradation, with its failure to attain its ideal, with all its malice, and hatred and jealousy, with its capacity for happiness which it always seems to be marring. These represent human life as men know it. A religion to satisfy them must realise and understand all these, and that is why the elaborate constructions of great intellects have never been able to satisfy the popular mind. They have had to make way for more spontaneous growths, which are less consistent, perhaps, but truer to the breadth of human nature. Those, then, who tell us that religion does not con¬ clusively deal with the intellect are no doubt right, but it is unfortunate that some, like Schleiermacher in his revolt from the intellectualism of Fichte, have attempted to banish the intellectual from religion. We cannot acquiesce when he tells us that religion 44 resigns at once all claims to science or morality.” Rather we would say that religion sweeps all human experience into itself when it attempts to interpret human life. 44 Man,” says Paulsen, 44 is not mere understanding, he is above everything else a 120 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES willing and feeling being. And religion is deeply rooted in this side of his nature. Feelings of humility, reverence, yearnings after perfection with which the heart is inspired by the contemplation of nature and history, determine his attitude to reality more immediately and profoundly than the conception and formulas of science. Out of these feelings arise the trust that the world is not a meaningless play of blind forces, but the revelation of a great and good being whom he may acknowledge as akin to his own innermost essence.” Religion must adequately satisfy human feeling. Love, Hope, Reverence, Aspiration, Enthusiasm — these all de¬ mand their satisfaction in religion. But it has also other problems to deal with. Life for most people means the “ changes and chances of this mortal life.” In these man requires guidance, consolation and support. He has to choose his path of life, he knows that he will be exposed to varying chances of good and bad fortune, he knows that he will have difficulties to surmount. Such is what life means for most people, and it bids them desire the guidance that religion or a philosophy, or some other rule of life may be able to give them. And then there is a further set of problems connected with the complex phenomena of human society. Here, again, there is scope for scientific investigation. We can investigate the laws and conditions which have governed its development, the history of the rise and fall of nations, the varying ways in which men have combined together, but when all this is done we have not approached one step nearer to the great fundamental question, Is there any meaning in this strange succession on the earth of nations and peoples ? Where scientific investigation finds develop¬ ment, law, evolution or whatever name it likes to employ to designate the succession of phenomena which it tabulates and records, our religious and philosophic mind inevitably asks is there any purpose or plan in this succession. Philosophers have produced their schemes of human PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 121 progress, and a religious system, if it is to fulfil at all adequately its functions, must tell us what purpose runs through this long succession of the ages, and how we can harmonise the history of the world with the claims of truth and goodness. We have enumerated the problems to which religion gives an answer, and have suggested the method by which it works and the logical basis of its conclusions. But what makes religion, and how has it arisen ? In other words, what is the psychological origin of the different religions which have existed? It is obvious that the method of reli¬ gion is quite different from that of science and philosophy. Science deliberately approaches certain phenomena, and by methods which experience has made more efficient attempts to explain them, and has thus gradually built up a body of truth. Philosophy pondering over the various problems which meet it analyses our conceptions and builds up its hypothesis. But no one has ever produced a religion by deliberately sitting down to do so. If he attempts to do so he fails. Religion, whether it be an ethnic religion, or the work of a personal founder, seems always to spring forth fully grown and armed ; it appears to arise in the human mind suddenly, spontaneously, unconsciously, Whence has it come ? It is probably one of the most important psychological advances of modern times to have drawn our attention to the sub-conscious action of the human mind. Only a small part of the furniture of the mind can be actually present to our consciousness at any one time. Further, only a small part of the working of the mind is conscious. We know this as a matter of experience. We know that if after devoting our mind ineffectually to some problem for a time, we lay it aside, it is probable that when we return to it the solution will present itself easily and rapidly and the tangled mass of our thought will present itself in an orderly and systematic way. We know in our own experience how a time comes, especially when we are 122 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES stirred by some strong emotion or interest, when there wells forth from the unconsciousness of the brain a rush of ideas, thoughts, images which have lain dormant or hidden. It is probable that in all the constructive work of the human mind the area of sub-consciousness plays a great part. The thoughts, ideas, experiences, emotions of life are all harmonised there, the gradual impressions of years are accumulated, and then when some great impulse stirs our consciousness they come forth with a sudden burst and modify our whole life. It happens equally in individuals and nations. If we ask why it is that the phenomena of conversion arise, we answer that it comes from the sudden upheaval of the impressions which have been lying hidden in the mind. The conscious mind has had its own range of thought with which it has been pre¬ occupied, it has had nothing to give to religion, or the emotions, or the passions, they have been hidden under the discipline and system of life. But a time comes when powers that have been latent assert themselves. This will explain also the great movements of popular feeling. Latent in every man is his patriotism, in ordinary times it is hidden under the necessities of self-interest. From time to time there pass over the country, aroused by some particular incident or incidents, waves of patriotic feeling which come from the liberation of this force. So it is in religion. A period of material prosperity and exclusive devotion to worldly things obscures the religious instinct. Suddenly, sometimes after a period of material misfortune, or from the growth of deeper and purer ideals, or from the influence of a great religious teacher, latent aspirations are roused and the balance of life is restored. Religion in a new aspect is created in the mind corresponding to the accu¬ mulated impressions which have been gradually forming, a desire is being prepared, influenced by the new thought and conditions of life, and finds its gratification in the new teaching. It is, then, in the sub-conscious mind that religion is matured. Now this has recently been claimed as implying PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 123 more than we have so far suggested. Professor William James, to whom we owe so much of the modern progress in psychology, wrote : “ I think it may be asserted that there are religious experiences of a specific nature, not deducible by analogy or psychological reasoning from our other roots of experience, which point with reasonable proba¬ bility to the continuity of our consciousness with a wider spiritual environment from which the ordinary prudential man is shut off. The believer finds that the tenderer parts of his personal life are continuous with a source of the same quality which is operative in the universe outside of him.” “ In a word, the believer is continuous in his own consciousness at any rate with a wider self from which saving experience flows in. Those who have such experi¬ ences distinctly enough, and often enough to live in the light of them, remain quite unmoved by criticism, from whatever quarter it may come, be it academic and scientific, or be it merely the voice of logical common sense. They have had their vision and they know — that is enough — that we inhabit an invisible spiritual environment from which help comes, our whole being mysteriously one with a larger soul whose instrument we are.” The problem we are approaching is a difficult one, for we are attempting to give an explanation which will satisfy our philosophical principles of a question which has been ignored by philosophy, although well known to religion. The problem of religion is what gives us religious certainty. Why do people believe such different and antagonistic creeds with such a consensus of certitude ? At the time of the Reformation Catholic and Protestant were both alike prepared to die for their faith. But a critic would remember that they were both equally certain that they were right, although they differed fundamentally in their opinions. They had apparently no rational ground for this certainty. Yet they were certain. But one or other must have been wrong, and if we see people with such varying opinions equally certain, are we not inclined to 124 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES conclude not only that all fanatics are deluded but that all beliefs are delusions ? Here is the problem. Now we ask first : Are there any reasons to think that normally through any 44 spiritual ” medium, apart from our experience, direct information comes from a “spiritual” world. Putting aside for the present any particular questions about revealed religion, is there any reason for thinking that there is some non-natural source from which religious ideas may come to us. Is there, in fact, anything in the religious knowledge of the world which could not have been built up by the human mind working on the materials w|th which experience, in the widest sense, has supplied it. It may be pointed out that Christianity teaches us that 44 God is a spirit ” and that the 44 Holy Spirit ” has always been teaching men. But that does not necessarily answer our question, because the teaching may have been through the normal powers of man, and not in the way that we have described above. The question we are asking is whether any real knowledge or inspiration has come to men through any source other than the normal operations of the human mind, and our answer must be, so far as we can judge, no. The content of the religious knowledge of each individual or race seems in all cases to have been derived from sources which may be described as natural. We have not any reason for thinking that there comes to the individual inspiration for his spiritual life which is not derived in some way from his experience. In that sense religion is a natural product — of the human mind. But the answer so far given does not exhaust the meaning of the spiritual, or touch on what we have described as the real problem — the consciousness of religious certitude — why do we hold our religious beliefs with such certainty ? Why are we so certain about them in spite of the fact which is obvious that when there are so many conflicting opinions, it is very unlikely that any of them may claim for itself absolute truth ? Let us examine for a moment the reasons which we give PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 125 for scientific generalisations. It is sometimes said that science is built up on the basis of observation and experi¬ ment. That is true in theory, but in actual fact in the science which we know, a third element, that of hypothesis, plays a large part. Much of the fabric of science is simply the best explanation that can be framed to explain a large body of facts, and so far from there being any certitude we are continually seeing accepted theories making way for newer and as we believe truer generalisations as our knowledge of facts increases and as our observations become more accurate. It is quite true, of course, that a large number of the commonly accepted facts of science have gained a right to exist, which makes them seem certain. But in no case do they really represent more than an approximation to the truth. It is true again that we are able to experiment and to make the conclusions of science of practical use in life, but here in nearly all cases there is little certainty. Take medical science. How completely the theories about disease have changed even within our own memory, and how changed has often been the method of treatment ! Yet we find that supreme confidence has prevailed in the past with regard to remedies which we now look upon as barbarous. Why, then, have we such complete confidence in the remedies and opinions of our own day ? Now let us look at religion. Religion is a life. We believe in it because it offers the most adequate explanation of the facts of life as a whole, because it gives a sufficient rule of conduct and because it corresponds to our higher aspirations and feelings. So soon as it ceases to be an adequate explanation and does not respond to our aspira¬ tions, it ceases to have the same hold upon us, and unless it changes to suit the altered circumstances, men cease to accept it as true. There has always been a slow process of adjustment going on. But is this the only claim that religion has to be considered true ? In religion, as in science, there is the continuous verification by experience. We believe religion because we find it a valuable guide to 126 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES life and conduct, because we prove it. Objectively we observe that religion is beneficial to the State ; that a country without a genuine religious belief begins to fail in its higher moral qualities ; that an inadequate or false religion drags a nation down. Although the facts of religion are more difficult to observe than the facts of science, the method is in both cases really the same. This is the underlying truth in the theory which is being put forward at present that judgments in religion and moral matters must be tested not by their absolute truth, about which it is difficult to obtain any certainty, but by their value for life. For instance, if the belief in a God is found to be conducive to the well-being of mankind, it is a true judgment of value. We ought to believe in God, not so much because we have proof that He exists, but because the belief is valuable for life. Now such a theory if baldly stated would be disastrous. It would be always used to bolster up any form of super- stitution which might be supposed to have value. It would be a weapon against all religious reform and it would take away all sincerity from religious life. It is a theory which ought never to be accepted, but like all errors it contains an element of truth, and that element is that we continually test our religious beliefs by their conformity to experience. We believe in religion because it corresponds to life, because it gives an explanation of the facts of life which satisfies our reason. So soon as it ceases to do this we will begin to question it. Just as our belief in the conclusions of science is tested and strengthened by experiments and the application to life, so our belief in religion is strengthened and tested by our expe¬ rience in all its forms. “ By their fruits ye shall know them.” Yet there is an element which whether in the case of science or religion we have left out. If we ask what makes a man believe with intensity, we are told it is faith. When we find this intensity growing stronger, PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 127 we call it an increase of faith. It is natural to ask : What do we mean by faith ? We shall find it somewhat difficult at first to answer this, for faith is after all one of those primal facts of life which in a sense defy analysis, but we can learn something about it. We shall find, to begin with, that faith as a principle of action plays a very large part in life. We rule our own life not by experience nor by knowledge, but by faith in our career. Every enterprise we undertake has a measure of faith in it. Unless we have faith we cannot accomplish anything worth doing. Unless we have faith in our country we shall not care to die for it. Unless we have faith in the possibilities of science we shall not work for it. Unless we have faith in moral principles, we shall not be willing to sacrifice our interests to higher motives. Unless men had had faith, they could not have held their religion with such certainty as to be willing to die for it. What, then, is faith ? Faith, it may be suggested, is a belief in the spiritual reality of the universe ; a belief that its purpose will not deceive us, and it is just the possession of this faith that gives an element of certitude to our beliefs. Faith is not a principle opposed to reason, for it is always reason that ultimately tells us what should be our beliefs, while it is faith that gives us the courage to accept them. Faith can never provide the matter of belief. It may be, of course, that the subject of our faith comes to us from an authority, and we believe it because we have faith in that authority, but there must lie concealed somewhere in our minds a rational cause for our belief in that authority. The cause why in a good many cases we do not accept the higher teaching of science or philosophy or morality or religion is that reason is by itself powerless against the influence of self-interest or pleasure, or the apparent testi¬ mony of the senses. It is in all cases faith alone that makes us strong enough to accept such positions. Faith is the powder which lifts us up, and the man who has faith in whatsoever sphere he may exercise it is the man who raises the human race a step upwards. 128 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES But what is faith ? We quoted a short time ago a passage from the writings of William James, in which he suggested that there was evidence of the possibility of some direct relation between the human mind and the spiritual element outside. We might, of course, have added from religious writers a large amount of testimony to the same effect. We saw that this could not be considered to provide a source of knowledge, for the religious knowledge of each person is dependent upon his experience, and would vary according to his experience. May we not believe that the faith which makes a man strong is just this relationship between man and the spiritual world of which he forms a part ? We have not been concerned in this investigation with attempting to construct a religious system, it has been our purpose to discuss the sources of religious knowledge, that is the basis on which we can build up a Theology. But the drift of our argument throughout has been that to provide an answer to the many questions that we have suggested and an adequate explanation of the facts of human life would not be possible without a belief in a spiritual principle, however we might define it. If, then, our rational convictions demand a belief in spiritual forces, if that is an hypothesis necessary to explain the uni¬ verse, and if on the other hand psychological investigation as well as religious experience suggest that there is some relation beyond our minds and those forces, does not this suggest the explanation of what we have called faith ? Then an explanation becomes possible of the fact that intensity of faith can be combined with such very different objects of faith. Our faith is strong because we have a strong hold on the reality of the spiritual life and purpose of the universe. The faith of different persons varies in its objects of belief because their experience in the light of which they have interpreted the world is varied. We need not believe that the aspect of truth as we know it represents absolute truth, but we know that it is true for us, as an adequate although imperfect representation of the truth PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 129 which is absolute. Just as in science a man of science does not necessarily believe that all that he holds is true, but merely that it is the nearest approximation to truth that he can attain and that he can advance nearer to the truth by pursuing the right methods of investigation, so in religion we believe that what is true for us is an adequate repre¬ sentation of the absolute truth, and that all effort at attain¬ ing religious knowledge is valuable because we and the world with us are gradually approaching nearer and nearer to the truth. “ Now we see in a glass darkly, and then face to face.” And this brings us to another point : Mysticism. Mysti¬ cism is an attempt to escape from the toils of a too rigorous and critical philosophy by building up religion on the basis of belief in the religious instincts of man. It believes in some direct contact of the mind and spiritual things. Now if we study the history of Mysticism we shall see that what we have enunciated above receives corroboration. There have been in all mystical movements two elements. There has been a return from a sceptical and rationalistic philosophy or an over-dogmatic theology to the religious instincts of the mind. This has been in almost all cases a healthy movement. Whether it says to the unbelieving critic, “ The time has gone by for troubling about all the clever reasons you give me for disbelief in my own soul ; my soul demands religion and tells me that religion is true,” or whether it says to the dogmatic theologian, “My soul is weary of your syllogisms, your disputations and arguments, it wants some response to its religious instincts ; ” in either case it represents a sound and healthy movement : but there is another side of Mysticism when it becomes fantastic, unreal and even immoral, when it gives vent to its imagination, and mistakes its imaginings for reality, when it believes that it has a direct insight into the divine mind, and that its dreams are true, when it forgets the work of reason in testing belief ; then it speedily becomes an unhealthy movement. Does not this corre¬ spond with what we have suggested above ? Faith does K 130 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES not give us in any case the content of a religious belief. It is not a gift given us to save us from the trouble of using our reason. It is that principle in us akin to the spiritual principles beyond us which assures us that the highest intellectual and spiritual aspirations are real, and that we are not deceived in accepting the testimony which our reason gives us to the purpose and reality of life. There is one more element which demands consideration : the place of authority in religion. We have so far looked upon religion as the creation of the human mind, but it has another and a higher function. It is not the creation of life, it creates life. For most of us it fashions our lives, and we owe our knowledge of what is true and our rule for the highest part of life to it. We do not accept it because it suits us, but we make ourselves suit it. How does this arise ? The religion which the Church or nation fashions becomes the depository of all the beliefs of its members. To each individual it appeals with the authority of the Church or nation. They must conform to it to be true members ; they are educated in it to attain the ideals of the nation. It comes first as an authority ; but it will not be accepted ultimately unless it commends itself to reason and is found true in experience. As the nation or Church grows it may need adjustments. A time comes when it no longer seems satisfactory, and it needs a reformation, or is replaced by another religion. For it is one of the phenomena of religion that it educates people to be dis¬ satisfied with itself. Religion, in fact, comes in all cases at first as an authority. Its value consists in the authority with which it comes compelling people to fashion their lives to it, but this authority cannot ultimately live unless what it teaches commends itself to reason and is found true in experience. It has been the purpose of this investigation, setting aside so far as possible the idea of a revelation, to discuss religion as a natural development of the mind, to discover PROLEGOMENA TO STUDY OF THEOLOGY 131 the sources from which it has been built up, to consider the reason for looking upon our belief as true and the method of testing it. It will remain as a sequel to this to estimate so far as we can the sources of revealed religion and then ask what are the relation of the two sources of religious knowledge. ESSAY V CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE Rev. Prof. P. T. Forsyth, M.A., D.D. SYNOPSIS The question — Its genesis, statement and dimensions. Its origin with Lessing for modern times — his twofold principle that both the actual condition and the essential nature of historical truth forbid us to associate with it absoluteness or finality. Examination of this position. Its modification by the modern religious historical school, which is more ideal and sympathetic. Troeltsch — correction of Hegel. Its ethical emphasis on personality, and its democratic jealousy of any single person. The truth and value of this school. Its defect. It simply substitutes one principle for another — it does not adjust principle to personality ; and it substitutes moral process for moral action, so that personality is over¬ ridden, and history is more of a movement than a drama. A principle cannot do the things morally distinctive of a person, and especially things essential to religion ; which is not simply relation to God but communion. The tendency is to Monism, with its defective ethic, whenever the spiritual principle is not identified with a person. When Christ is called the guarantee of the Christian principle this really concedes His identity with it. The effect of the theory of historical evolution on religion summarised. False forms of Christianity provoke and necessitate protest — which however is but partially, and often but poorly, true. The real issue at this moment. N.B. — It may be an aid to clearness if it is explained here that by Christ is meant the historic Jesus as the Eternal and Only Begotten Son of God, and by the Christian principle the idea of sonship taken religiously as the sonship of Humanity, native and inalienable however man may behave, and not secured by a moral redemption in Christ alone and for ever. The principle of personality is not essential to it, and not necessarily Eternal for individuals. In the one case Man is God’s son in his freeborn right, in the other for Christ’s sake alone. CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE Can an historical person be the object of an absolute faith ? Can a human personality at once express absolute Godhead and exercise a true Humanity ? In one form or another that is the modern question which it is vital to Christianity to answer, and to answer positively and securely. It is a question which arises partly from our modern interest in Humanity as one, partly from our new concern with its several stages ; partly, that is, from our new sense of the Idea, and partly from the evolutionary tendency to judge everything relatively to the standard of its own age alone. We do not want to judge, indeed we shrink from going be¬ yond explanation. The same motive as makes us tender with the vices of a mediaeval monarch, because he must be measured by his contemporary standard and not ours, makes us also sceptical about the holy finality of Jesus Christ. The same tendency as whitewashes the sinners takes the glory from the saints. As the world cools, things tend to an equalisation of temperature. The historic mind, it is said, which does not allow us to apply a modern code of ethics to a cruder time, forbids us also to find in any age what would entirely satisfy modern needs, to say nothing of dominating all possible ideals. History, it is said, not only carries home to us, with the eighteenth cen¬ tury, the vast organic unity of Humanity, but, with the nineteenth, reveals the action of evolution as ruling all that takes place ; and it is therefore impossible to fix upon > any one point in the past, and so to isolate it from the great stream as to give it an absolute value for every age of a race so vast. The twofold idea of the unity of history and 135 136 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of its movement as evolution affects religion far more than the once dreaded uniformity of nature. Especially is this so, it is urged, with one like Jesus. He belongs to the past (it is said) in everything except influence ; for the present He has not final authority ; and He may be surpassed in the future.^ We can no more deify an historic person than we can crystallise an historic stage, or stereo¬ type an historic creed. No man, indeed, it is allowed, has had such an influence on posterity as Jesus ; but He has created a Frankenstein Humanity, which now escapes from His control, and turns to question, and even to dissect, its creator. Jesus had not to deal with an age like ours, an age with our knowledge of the past, and our rights over it. He belongs to the past which we command, and He must accept the same criticism as all the rest of the past from the age of historical science. We cannot allow Him absolute authority in any region, sensitive though we have grown to His spell. We may feel Christ more, but we worship Him less. And we contemplate with calm a remote future when His influence will cease, because it will have done its work and been replaced by other influences giving us all His best and more. We are told that if Christianity is to continue to be a religion when that time comes, it must be detached from all control by the past, though, of course, not from its causation, or even inspiration. It must be detached from Christ in the sense of being made inde¬ pendent of Him, except as He may be considered the prophet or symbol either of Humanity or of a long stage in the human career. The ideal Christ must be loosed and let go from the historic. Time, which was once His home, is now His tomb. We must, indeed, for long (till Nietzsche supersedes Llim) continue to hold the Christian principle of our sonship, but that is independent of its temporary connection with the personality of Christ. Most Christians now admit that a distinction has to be made between the passing and the permanent elements in traditional faith. The question is where the line must be drawn. And among the passing elements, it is said, among the CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 137 beneficent but terminable illusions, we must include the deity of Christ, and the absolute, final, decisive value of His person and work for our relation to God and our eternal destiny. Now it should be realised at the outset how far this deposition goes. With a supernatural and final Christ goes a permanent Church, and all its intimate involution in history. The Church has meaning only if the Christian principle is inseparable from the eternal person of Christ. The Church exists and endures in the faith that the principle if detached from the work and person of such a Christ would not have power to keep afloat in such a world; that Christ was not the organ or crystallisation of a prin¬ ciple, but that the principle is the explication of His person and the result of His work; that Christ did not regard Himself or His work relatively (for with all His humility He never contemplated being superseded) ; nor was that how He has been construed by whose who knew Him best, whether at the first or in the long history of the soul. On that the Church stands. And when the Church passes, the note of spiritual religion must alter. Its great manner of mastery over fate, chance, and change, will pass. Its attitude towards the world will be different ; it will be less secure. The religious principle of man’s divine sonship will not give that certainty of the Father which the Church’s faith in the Son does. It may be noted also, that as the faith in Christ retires the 44 religion of Jesus” retires too. For the very historical reality of Jesus is now denied by the untrammelled evolution of criticism, to say nothing of His personal religion; and a totally different religion, fitted with all modern appliances and conveniences, takes its place as the religion of Monism. Christ comes to be viewed as the mythical symbol of a priceless idea, which is the real inspiration of religion. But in its own account of itself Christianity is not the expression of an idea. It did not so enter history. It does not condense and point a natural process in the spiritual region. It does not even 138 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES incarnate the idea of the unity of the divine and human natures. Philosophemes like that cannot make a religion. They did not exude Christianity as a popular metaphysic. That Hegelian version of Christianity has served its day and fallen on sleep. And one reason why we think the Christian principle inadequate without the person of Christ is that the old life and work is found at last to ebb and fade without the old faith. We do not continue to get the Christian ethic or the Christian philanthropy without the Christian creed. A religion of Christian principle is inade¬ quate, after a generation or two, to the work done in Christ, and needing always to be done, for such a world as this — the work of its Redemption, even from fate, to say nothing of sin. It might explain well enough the power of the God-consciousness in Christ as an individual saint, or among certain of His fellow-Christians. It would explain Christ as the filial completion of man’s sense of God. It might even explain Him as a healer of souls. But it would not explain Him as Saviour. It would place Him among those whom the action of the principle saved, among His fellow sinners and pensioners of God’s grace. But it does not meet the moral case of the world, or pacify the conscience really quickened and grieved. It would explain redemption as the action of an idea or an influence, or view it as the completion of Humanity when it bursts into flower and takes the full air of heaven ; but it would not treat it as God’s work, as a moral achievement and historic victory of a crucial kind in the region of man’s prime need, on the scale of the race’s experience and guilt. The meaning of guilt it always minimises. It protests, with a modern scholar, of singular eminence in the American Church, against the idea that “ because one man feels his need of divine grace therefore all men must need it.” But the New Testament surely regards this as the prime, universal, and eternal need which Christ came to meet. And that intimately personal saving work is possible to a person alone. Here, as often, we see how indispensable the work of Christ is for approach to any true interpretation of His person. CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 139 Few thinkers are so luminous in their treatment of Christian theology as Ed. von Hartmann, and none more thoroughly destroy its foundations than he does with his deification of the Unconscious. But this is what he says , on the subject in hand : “ Christianity stands or falls with faith in the foundation of a new cosmopolitan religion of redemption by Jesus, and in the identity of this historic Jesus with the later idea of a Christ, i. e. with the divine principle of redemption. None who view these as historic fictions have any further right to the Christian name ” (Preface to 10th edition of Die Philosophic des Unbewussteri). The principle of Lessing, that historical truth has nothing final, and affords no warrant for absolute truth, has sunk so deep into the modern mind that it is worth while to examine it somewhat closely. Historical truth, Lessing and his school said, cannot prove the supreme truths of Christianity for two reasons. First, because the Christian record is not complete. Even as history it is defective. The evidence would not satisfy a jury of historical experts. At some of the most crucial points the data are lacking. We have nothing directly from Jesus Himself. We have from no eye-witness firsthand and tested evidence of an act so central as the Resurrection. We are also unable to reconstruct with complete confidence and modern effect the psychology of Christ, the pragmatism of His action, the motivation, or even the sequence, of His pro¬ ceedings, or the context of His sayings. But, second (they said), if the record were complete yet it would not be effective for the purpose in hand, because the two kinds of truth are disparate. Historical truth is, by its nature, relative and accidental ; whereas the final truth of religion must be absolute. Mere probability, which is all that history can reach, cannot be the basis of absolute religious faith. The soul cannot stake its eternal destiny, or cherish a complete and final certainty, on anything which is only settled by a balance of evidence, as history must be. An absolute faith cannot rest on a probable base. A faith 140 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES which rests but on the probable has a root of sceptical bitterness which is sure to trouble it at last ; and it is by so much the less faith. To faith’s demand for absolute certainty history can offer but the probable. The only correlate of faith is God (when we use care about words), and faith in Christ must therefore mean that Christ is God. But a probable God is no God. Yet a probable God is the most that mere history permits in connection with Jesus. There is, therefore, a great gulf fixed between an historic figure and an absolute faith, so that none can pass to and fro. Hence the penchant of our critic-racked age for a mystic religion, or an ideal Christ, interior and superior to history and its sceptics. “ Spernit Humum fugiente penna ” — as Ferrier quotes and puns. It is worth while, perhaps, to cross-examine the chief witness. The exact words of Lessing are these : “ Acci¬ dental truths of history can never be proof of necessary truths of reason.” First, it may be observed how awkward, how ambiguous, how archaic is the expression “ truths of history.” It is not the truths of history that we have chiefly to do with now but its facts, and especially their nature. But Lessing belongs to a bygone day of noetic and propositional religion. Its orthodoxy was but the intellectualism of the right, its heresy the intellectualism of the left. Christianity was to him and his age a matter of truth more than of life, act, or power, and facts were but empirical ; none could be super-historic, none sacramental. He belonged to the time when Rationalism, with a negative doxy, was attacking the positive orthodoxy in what is really a family quarrel. t\ Both were entangled in the error that revelation was a matter of belief rather than of personal relation in living faith., But for us now, with our wider knowledge and deeper grasp of all religions, Christian¬ ity is not a complex of truths, either accidental or neces¬ sary, about God ; it is a new and vital relation toward God, effected bv Himself. v The second fallacy in Lessing’s words is that history, by its very nature, contains only the accidental and probable. CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 141 On the contrary, history is now seen to be in its nature sacramental, if only sacramental of an Eternal making for righteousness. Its facts are consecrated elements. They are conductors of the Eternal. At least for the psychology of religion it is so ; and religion is now allowed to speak for itself, without a rational editor or chaperon. Such religion finds the core of history to be an act of God which is anything but accidental. As a matter of fact, rightly or wrongly, history has yielded to the soul a God in an historic act which is in its nature eternal. And with that tremendous faith running through history and spreading over it, it is not enough that criticism should declare the sources incapable of producing it, and write it off as an illusion with a stroke. Rigid historical science cannot extract all that history has to yield, any more than physical science can be the complete hierophant of Nature. The scientific critic dogmatises if he says it yields no more than he finds, or no other dimension. His methods apply only to the accidental, empirical, relative element, which is not the whole of history. His machine only extracts the tin and leaves the radium in the debris. The words of both Lessing and Kant on this subject reveal them as antagonists only to an outgrown conception of religion, to a view of Christianity which regards it as a scientific system of truth made statutory for subsequent generations, and made also, in that form, a condition of future happi¬ ness. It all smacks of an age and a mood which is bygone, except in those marts where men deal in the cast-off clothing of generations ago, or those paths where the ghosts of dead ages walk the dim purlieus of the living mind. The sympathetic study of all religions shows that there are parts of the past so timeless in their inner nature that they can become parts also of our own personal consciousness. . It is so, at least, that the Christian learns Christ.1 1 To be quite just, I admit this represents but one side, the conscious side, whether of Lessing or of Kant. They have another, which however becomes explicit chietly in their successors. Both represent the great transition from the dogmatic to the critical era. But it was to a criticism that had in it the conditions of a new dogmatic, with a moral instead 142 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES But Lessing’s theme tends to recur in a new setting at the hands of the current religious-historical school, led so bril¬ liantly and sympathetically by Troeltsch, with his principle of the relative absoluteness of Christianity. Historical religion, he says, does give us the absolute, but in each faith only in a relative way, which is fatal to any unique position for it. In many quarters it is held almost needless to prove a principle so evident as the relativism of history. Nor, it is said, should we wish it otherwise. For it is even asserted that the effect of the application of the relative principle to religion is not only to make religion more rational, but more rich in its truth, more ethical, more human, more intimate, and more religious really, because nearer our actual case. The relativist principle in this more sympathetic form is held and pressed by men who yet cherish a deep reverence for Christ’s person as the first, and still the classic, case of the true religion of divine fatherhood and human sonship. Hegel went so far as to say that in Jesus and His results the absolute became conscious of itself. We are bound to recognise at this point the unprecedented insight we have gained into the character of an intellectual foundation, and, with a place at once more modest and more powerful in Humanity. Lessing is, perhaps, the supreme type still of the creative critic. He was, indeed, limited by the then state of historic study and the then analysis of moral and theological ideas. But he did grasp, as none before, the essence of Humanity; and he grasped that essence as action. He prepared the way for Kant, and, through him, for the moral, instead of the mystical — or the noetic — escape from the con¬ fusion caused by historical criticism. In so doing they threw the accent on the personal side as distinct from the principle, and they opened a new career for evangelical Christianity delivered from Orthodoxy and from Pietism. In viewing the work of Christ as the supreme and compendious moral act in history, thought places it at the creative centre of the new Humanity; and by making the true Christianity to be communion with this moral Re-creator it saves mysticism from the aesthetic for the moral experience. The result of this changed method upon the central doctrines of Christian¬ ity, and their restoration to the conscience, and so to the race, I have tried to express in certain volumes upon The Person of Christ , The Work of Christ , and The Cruciality of the Cross (Hodder & Stoughton). They represent an attempt to place evangelical belief, which has been accused of violating morals, upon an impregnable moral basis ; inasmuch as Kant’s moral principle, that supreme action is doing the right for right’s sake alone, appears in the crowning work of Christ as the self-oblation of the Holy One to His own holiness. CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 143 of Jesus and the doctrines of the Church from the sym¬ pathetic labour and the divining scholarship of many power¬ ful men, who yet cut the ground from the Christian Church and faith by resting them ultimately, not upon Jesus, but upon the ideas and principles for which Jesus stood either as sponsor, or as symbol. The sonship of man and the fatherhood of God, they hold, are permanent intuitions, which are only historically connected with Jesus. And this historical connection with His person is irrelevant at last to final conviction on the principle ; so that the conviction would grow and flourish now, with the historic “ way ” it has accumulated, even if Jesus were forgotten. The spiritual truth itself would spread among men by its own appeal to human nature, apart from Him who historically introduced it, who first realised it completely in His human experience, and who fixed it for ever in the religious con¬ sciousness of the race. Christ was indeed the way, but we may forget the road when we reach home. It is even said that He Himself, in His old humility, would wish it so thought if He were among us now. He would not care whether He were remembered or not, so long as the object of His life was won — man’s filial trust of a living Father in an Eternal Kingdom. The certainty that the Great Power is Father is declared to be a matter of the spiritual experience and its intuitional witness, which, when it is as real and clear as Christianity can make it, may always be trusted to report the same Father as Jesus so clearly and surely realised in the name of Humanity at its best. If He had not done so, some other would. The Christian principle can now hold its own, whatever we may come to think of the person of Christ or His work. The weakness of such a position is that it must rest on a certain psychological interpretation of our spiritual experience, and it has against its forecast of the future the whole experience of the Church of the past (i. e. of the initiates and experts of the soul) ; and especially the pro¬ found psychology of conscience and sin by the great Reformers, who, however they parted from the rest of the 144 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Church as to the remedy, were at one with it in the diagnosis of the case, because they were legatees of the Church’s long penitential tradition. Of late years the Hegelian line of thought has not seemed so sure in the land of its origin as it did two generations ago. With the decay of the philosophy of speculative Idealism there has come a distrust of the great truths of the reason, or at least of their power to shine by their own light. God, Freedom, Immortality are, of course, secure enough in aesthetic or sentimental circles, and in the region of the domestic pieties, where the heart rises dramatically, like a man in wrath, against the reason’s colder part, ends the case, and crushes the critic with 4 4 1 have felt.” This shows how subjective, how individual, how dilettantist the current conception of the problem is, how little it is con¬ ceived as the problem of the world. But where there is a more serious and more historic grasp of the situation, with a more adequate sense of the difficulties involved, where there is a due knowledge of problems, and especially a grasp of the world problem, then the happier intuitions of a literary and pectoral theology are not found sufficient for the race’s eternal committal, and for an absolute faith that nothing possible can shake. And, if we turn to the philosophers, whereas the ideas used to be their own assurance, by what Hegel calls “ the intuition of thought ” at the cost of personality, the tendency of recent thinking has been to recall personality and its moral effect to a much more important place. Personality has come, even for philo¬ sophy, to mean more than it did when it was treated but as the vehicle of ideas in a mere accidental and detachable way, as the pipe conveys the water, or the “ sacred pen¬ man ” the inspiration. The personality is now coupled up with the principle, not as its duct, or its penman, but as its prophet. They interpenetrate in a far more organic way, as the current suffuses the wire, or the fire lives on the fuel, or the mind in the brain. This change has come about as thought has grown more ethical, more psychological, more sympathetic, and less intellectualist, as Kant has CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 145 discrowned Aristotle in the realm of mind. We begin to hope that a personal Idealism is about to restore the king¬ dom to Israel, as far as any philosophy can contribute to that end, and to help the recovery of our old faith in the personal finality of Christ. But just at this point thought swerves, under the influence of a cross-current which is also modern, and, for some, final — the final formula, they think, at last — the doctrine (or rather the dogma) of evolution. Just as personality seemed about to step back to the throne of things its supremacy is challenged (or qualified at least) by Evolutionary Relativism. If the parable may be indulged, this mighty angel, with one foot on the earth and another on the sea, commanding all nature, proclaims his profound respect for the dynasty of Personality as hereditary suzerain of the cosmos, but his inability, at the same time, to allow any single member of it to mount the throne in perpetuity. No single personality must have eternal monopoly, no single king live for ever. Even were person¬ ality immortal, no single representative of it must be secured in eternal reign. For that would not consist with the relative principle. Immortal as the principle of personality or kingship might be, no particular personality of history could be absolute or final. He could be no more than a terminal president. And whoever for the hour took the throne must give constitutional guarantee that, as his resources began to fail, or when a greater personality arose, he would abdicate, consent to be superseded by a more spiritual right, and pass from the scene, or gladly take his place among the subjects of the larger lord. If it was Jesus that was placed upon the throne, the noble champion avowed with earnest tones his deep reverence and loyalty to His moral Majesty; but in the greatest of interests he could consent to His royal place only with a proviso which relativists could not forgo. It could not be allowed that He was an eternal King, or a King of all possible kings. For there were constitutional L 146 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES principles, bound up with the very existence of the realm of human nature, which were not dependent on any single personality (nay, they were imperilled by it), deeply as they were entwined with the personal or regal idea. Re¬ demption as a process, for instance, was of more range and moment than any redeemer could be, and the particular monarch was otiose to the constitution. The form of thought that I have ventured to describe in this parable is much more attractive than the line pursued by the old rationalists of the association school. It allows to personality a function higher than merely to convey the idea ; and it finds personality more interesting than the idea. We are attracted also by the prospect of finding some means, however inadequate, of coupling them closer, and having the benefit of both. But really the new line is little more satisfactory than the old. For, if we do not concentrate on a single absolute person, are we not dissolving with one hand the connection we would cement with the other ? To return to our metaphor, if it is only the dynasty we enthrone, the category of personality, and not a particular person, what are we doing but restoring the supremacy of the personal principle, of the idea of per¬ sonality, and making a particular personality indifferent ? We have only replaced a principle by a principle, a prin¬ ciple which is associated with personality by the principle of personality itself. And the result for faith, for religion, is not very different in the long run. What we come out with at last is the worship of ideal Humanity and the spiritual principle it embodies. We postpone personality and its moral action to a monistic power and its processes. We find movements promoted which, with the aid of extreme criticism, throw Jesus into a secondary place, and promise practically to dispense with Him, or historically to dissolve Him, on the ground that the great Christian ideas, like Incarnation, Atonement, Resurrection, Ascension, Regeneration, are not specific acts of God in history but movements intrinsic to collective Humanity, valuable indeed, but well assured to us as processes of man’s native CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 147 and inalienable spirituality at its best. Man makes his own atonement, and Christ but illustrated the fact. Man does not rise by the Spirit that raised Christ, but Christ rose by the spirit that elevates man. These ideas, these experiences, are the necessary movements, phases, or effects of our spiritual evolution, which cannot be holden of death ; they are not the contents of an historic revelation and act in Christ, on which alone our reborn spirituality must revolve. It may be questioned (in passing), and with some force, whether it is quite fair to use the New Testament words and ideas in this bleached and emptied sense. It may be said, with some truth, that a change from being theocentric to being anthropocentric means a new religion. It is, indeed, engaging and enlarging to the mind to mark these processes in human nature, as the premonitions of that which Christ fulfilled, and which He secured in final victory; just as it interests and expands us to mark the same thing in the convergence upon Him of other religions, and especially of those gnostic mythologies which lay round the cradle of Christianity. They were prayers that called for Christ, rather than powers that produced Him, and they are much truer as prayers than as powers. They were prayers that He had to answer rather than principles which He had to serve. They were, and are, impotent without Him. We may prize them as prophecies. But it is another thing to make them the prime movers, with Christ and His action but their classic case. That is not Christianity. At least it is not apostolic Christianity. It is certainly not the faith that made the Church. And it is practically another religion. Would it not be much more fair and fertile plainly to recognise this, and then go on to ask which of the two religions better met the facts of history, the record of experience, and the needs of the soul. Neither old truth nor new has anything to gain from confusing the issue. Let us not refuse the truth which is so luminous to many of those teachers that it seems to them final. Let us not discard the spell of their ideal Christ, or deny the composite 148 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES nature of some of His early theological photographs. Let us not despise their reverence for Humanity, even if we cannot adopt their faith in it. (For reverence is one thing and faith quite another.) The ideal yet human Christ of the modern age is, in its place, a real contribution to the enlargement of our thought of Christ, if the thought of Him were all. It corresponds to the step taken when, through the Reformation, a near God replaced a far ; when God’s relation to the world began to be something more than accidental, when it became organic; when the world ceased to be thought of as one of several possible to God, when it became His form instead of even His garment, and a theology of immanence began to supplement and enlarge the medi¬ aeval theology of transcendence alone. Let us consent to learn from all we are told about the greatness of the Chris¬ tian principle, and its supremacy to every other spiritual principle found up to now in the soul of man. We may then gain some hope of a fundamentally Christian ethic replacing a pagan in our chief centres of education. Let us, moreover, recognise the contributions that may have been made to the form of the first Christian theology by the theologoumena of either Judaism or Gnosticism. St. Paul incorporated several of these into his thought of the riches of Christ, adopting even some of the technical phraseology of these schools, as every reader of Colossians knows if he continues to assign it to St. Paul. I see no reason why, if it were proved, we should not recognise that St. Paul had a Christology before he was a Christian, and might even have believed in a Messiah pre-existent in the heavens. He did believe in a celestial Jerusalem, pre-existent as the Temple, the Law, or the Memra was also thought to be ; and He might have shared a like belief as to the Messiah, if such a belief had existed. Which, however, both Bousset and Dalman seem to doubt. As they well might; for to a Monotheist Jew the pre-existence beside the one God of a person like Messiah would be a far more serious matter than the pre-existence either of law, angel, temple, or city of God. But, speaking generally, I see no reason why CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 149 Paul should not have utilised the ideas of other religions than either Judaism or Christianity, to fill out and express what he found in Christ. But they did not base his faith, or produce it. In Christ they all fell into place, and were gathered together in one. Christ was the answer to their prayers. He stored in advance all possible treasures of wisdom and knowledge. In Christ all high ideals and moving principles were from eternity real and effectual. In Him they came back to their home. And therefore in Him they became not only powers in history but, what is the real point, they became the powers. They were put once for all in eternal command of history and man. Their final, visible victory, in due course, was secure, because they shared his secure place in God. They became invin¬ cible as the Kingdom of God. The aeonial issue of light and darkness, life and death, good and evil, grace and sin, was settled for ever in principle on the battlefield of Christ’s person. And final omnipotence was secured, by that person, for a redeeming principle which, however divine we may now call it, but for this victory might, for all we knew, have succumbed to some stronger malignant power ere all was done and the long historic strife closed. Fixed in that faith, we need be no more unsympathetic to the ideals of our age than Paul the aged was to those of his. Unless, indeed, they aspire to thrust the living Christ from His throne and sit there. Then they threaten the Church’s life, as the old Gnosticism did. It becomes a struggle for existence. And our attitude might have to become that of John rather than Paul, because it is John’s situation and not Paul’s that we face. The chief practical objection to putting a principle in front of a person is that the religious life thereby becomes a one-sided process rather than a mutual act, an evolution rather than a communion ; and thus it loses its ethical value, and is relegated to the pensive and passive side of our nature. And when religion does that it practically goes out of life. The difference between a 150 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES principle and a person is the difference between a process and an act, between a man that is carried and a man that goes. It is that the person has will and purpose towards some conscious act and end, while the principle moves but in a current which may be blind (because it does not certify its own goal), which bears us along on its course, and tends to submerge moral action and choice. Our very choice of a principle becomes then but part of the action of the principle, and our freedom is gone in a determinism the more fatal as it is subtle, and even religious. It is true our best faith is not of ourselves, it is the gift of GodA But it is His gift, not in the crude sense that we are flooded, overborne and carried along on the current of something infused into our nature, but in the sense that it is the destined, yet not fated, response of our free will and con¬ science to the gift of God in a personal Christ who is morally calculated to affect us so since we were created in Him. x- The Eternal Life is not an infusion whereby we are coupled to a source and charged anew. That is a psychology of it which leads to magical religion, and the whole Roman theory of the sacraments ; and it means a religion that turns upon something else than moral personal relations direct and reciprocal. But Grace is a relation of divine mercy, and not a process of high natural magic spiritualised. The new life is ours by a moral action and reaction, our moral reaction to the prior, moral, and gracious action of a God whose will is our peace. ^ So that it is more exact to say that the gift of God is not the faith directly but that Christ who stirs the faith. It is ' the faith only indirectly, in the sense of our personal response to a Person’s gift of Himself in a Person. If the principle be the main thing, then mutual personal action falls to a second place, and communion in the true Christian sense too easily sinks to be fusion in the mystic sense. Regeneration becomes at best a mere awaking to feel that we are partakers of a divine nature. And it is a process through which Christ Himself must also have gone. He becomes the greatest of all regenerates. Redemption, CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 151 which has Christian meaning only as an act, becomes a process of increasingly pantheistic and Buddhistic character, including and blessing the Redeemer Himself. It is the release of the infinite from the finite, the process of absorp¬ tion in the larger ideal, mere delivery from the limitations, causations, and controls of a hampering world ; instead of being God’s destruction of guilt by forgiveness, His new creation and restoration of us to moral communion with His holy Self. History becomes but movement, hardly action, and not at all a drama. It is a mere procession to a grand final panorama ; unless indeed it ends in the redemption and release of the Absolute Being Himself, through the aid of man’s ascetic sacrifice, from that most original fall wherein “ He darkly blundered on man’s suffering soul.” And with all this the conception of sin accords. It becomes merely the most unfortunate form of our limitation, but it need not carry with it guilt. It is a back-water of the great current of process; it is not an act of the will’s hostility or alienation towards a holy God. And the effect at last is that the principle, being detached from the person (except historically), sinks : it sinks either to truth of a divine kind, so that its revelation, as the communica¬ tion of divine doctrines, is some kind of orthodoxy — a notion of revelation now well outgrown — or else it falls lower still and becomes but the manifestation of a fine sort of cosmic force, the flood of a stream of living water, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of whatever rules as God, and carrying us on its bosom, almost without action of ours (however much motion), to be lost in the infinite sea. In either case the dominant type of religion acquires a panthe¬ istic and non-ethical cast rather than a theistic and moral. The principle may employ personality or drop it. It may appear and act as a personality, but always so that the person returns to be merged in it. And a person not identical with the principle could even preach it in a most powerful way and yet find his real personality satisfied elsewhere ; or he might renounce it at a later date, and go on to another, and even contrary principle. But what we 152 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES need is not a principle any more than it is a dogma. Principle-worship is but the modern form of dogma-worship. What we want is life from a life, conscience with conscience* and soul to soul. But what we get in a speculative system of interacting ideas and principles is a result like this. “ The fathomless wealth of God’s thought and act is reduced to the monotonous echo of an ontological machine in systole and diastole, pulse and counterpulse, thrill and chill.” We may, perhaps, put it thus : Religion must be not only subjectively sincere but objectively real. That is to say it must rest on a real objective, and one possessing the initiative to which faith responds. Religion is meaningless without something in the nature of revelation. There can be no real religion on man’s side towards anything which is but the projection, or the consummation, of Humanity itself. The object of religion must approach its subject creatively. But if that objective be construed as a mere immanent principle, patent only as the various spiritual processes subjective to Humanity, like incarnation, atonement or regeneration, where does a real objective for the race and its religion lie ? What is really initiative and creative ? Of course, if Humanity is regarded, in the positivist way, as itself the divine reality, it has, collectively, no object of religion. Religion becomes but one of its subjective phases. Its initiative is in itself. Believing Humanity is its own object of faith. It is the object of its own worship. And the religion of individual altruism is a collective egoism on the vastest scale. Or if, pantheisti- cally, Humanity be regarded as part or phase of a more cosmic reality, its experiences are still not more than phases. They, too, are but phases or processes of reality, they are not responses to it. They are parts of its huge subjectivity. And religion, then, is not the relation of Humanity to anything real, but a mere phenomenon on the face of reality, having no necessary or eternal con¬ nection with its nature. The principle asserts or expresses itself in many forms, but it meets with response not at all. CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 153 Humanity is a phase of reality, it does not greet reality. There is no revelation, and therefore no religion is possible. But how, then, shall we secure a religious reality behind these experiences, processes, or ideas of ours ? How shall we know they correspond to anything in reality, anything ultimate, and supreme, and victorious ? How shall we get moral, holy, footing in the region behind good and bad ? How shall we know that love or goodness in man mean the same thing in the region of the last reality ? Is moral differ¬ ence rooted in the Eternal ? It has no religious, no eternal, value unless it is. Now there are various philosophical ways of answering this question, turning on theories of know¬ ledge ; but the theological answer is this — that the historic revelation in Christ is that the real is what we know as the transcendently moral, the holy. That is the meaning of the Incarnation. How the Church reaches that certainty opens two very great questions, as to the value of inspiration and the value of Christian experience. They are questions that evoke powerful answers, but they cannot be discussed here. The real, we say, is the moral, the historic. But now, if we work from the other end, and apart from such a revelation, can we say that the moral is the real, that the loving, the sacrificing is the real and eternal ? Can we be sure that these moral idealisms or principles in history are upon the rock of permanent being ? Can we be quite sure that moral excellence, which is at present the crown of things, will be permanent, victorious and eternal, apart from its establishment and re-establishment by a Personality, Holy and Almighty ? Can a principle secure itself or prove itself to be Eternal ? And if it cannot, can it be a base for religion in the great last sense of the word — a stay in the crash of a cosmos, or amid the collapse of our own self-satisfaction in guilt ? Can a principle really reveal itself in any such way that a whole person can respond, and can respond with himself ? We can respond as persons to a person, and we can dis¬ cover a principle, or be taught it by a person, and we can acknowledge it ; but can a principle act on us ? Can a 154 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES principle act in the moral sense of the word ? Has it in it what constitutes the essence of personality ? Can it create ? Has it the power of self-determination ? Has a supreme principle necessarily the power of absolute self-deter¬ mination ? Many minds are embarrassed, when the question of an absolute personality arises, by the fallacy that the essential feature of personality is limitation, that personality is no more than indivi¬ duality — something marked off by a circumference from all else. ■’ Whereas the essence of personality is not that it is a closed circle, but that it is a radiative centre of power, of moral power, and especially in the way of self-command. A personality is a power that is lord of itself. It is not a power made personal by its limitations, whether in its volume, or in its spiritual energies, but a power that has in itself the secret of its own control. It is a power with self-determination and self-sufficiency. From this point of view there is nothing unthinkable in an absolute per¬ sonality. With us personality is never a finished thing, but a thing in constant growth ; and it is an error to treat it as a complete, limited, and standard thing, and then proceed to declare an infinite personality impossible. It is really the only form in which we can conceive intelligence or spiritual life — infinite self-knowledge, self-sufficiency, and self-determination. But a principle can have none of these. Its action is not self-determined, and therefore it is not moral. Therefore it cannot really act in the way of self- bestowal, self-revelation. It cannot reveal itself in any such way as to appeal to our moral personality and master it. A person can by free action give or reveal himself to a person, and to a person he can also reveal a principle. But can a principle reveal itself to a person, if we really grasp what is deeply meant by revelation ? Can there be any self-determined and free self-revelation on the part of a principle to evoke all that is free in our personality ? Has it such initiative ? Self-revelation, beginning as it must in free self-determination, is an act, a personal act ; but is a principle capable of anything beyond movement in a CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 155 process ? It can assert itself, establish itself, absorb, overbear, organise, or submerge all else, like other forces — but can it reveal itself, bestow itself, open its inmost self and final purpose ? It can develop itself, but can it save ? It can produce resignation, can it win reconciliation ? Can it provide a worship for man, who, as a conscience, needs forgiveness more than evolution ? If it is but a principle that we have to do with at last can we speak of revelation, at least in any such sense of saving self-donation as Christ has taught us to associate with revelation ? j A person can reveal a principle, but not a principle a person. Is it not debasing a person, and robbing it of personality, to make it explicable as the vortex of a principle, as an atom might be a knot of ether ? For a principle is not free in any moral sense. Moral freedom vanishes if it is treated but as a kink in a principle. A principle does not carry in itself its own origin or explanation. It may be a cause, an essence, the unity of a system, a uniformity of procedure, a universal, an idea, a notional ultimate, a logical solution — one of many things, which are all below a free and originating person in moral dignity and worth for life. It may explain much, but it initiates nothing. It organises, but it does not create. It is more of a terminus for thought than a source of life. It may order a world, but it does not love, nor is it loved. It may be owned, but neither obeyed nor worshipped. It cannot keep religion the personal thing it must be. And it can never effect what is the Christian relation to God, personal communion. Than this there can be nothing higher; and nothing less than this is the fulness of Christianity; which is not contact with God, impression from Him, or influence either from a God or a principle; but life-communion with the Eternal. This is only possible with a living person. And the faith that effects it is absolute and final. No such mere principle can be the ground of a religion adequate to the highest practical purposes of a world of living men, or to the actual moral situation 156 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of such a world. It is not equal to the great tragedies, resolves, actions or consciences of a race of loving, acting, suffering, struggling, failing, conquering souls. It must have its sponsor and guarantee in a revelation by a moral person who holds of the last reality, and who is secured in a final moral conquest of such life and fate. For a world of men a man is the only fitting form of revelation. And the only question, then, is whether a man is a possible form of revelation for God ; whether the great last Reality is so moral in His nature as to exist in nuce in a perfect moral manhood. It may here be noted that the tendency to detach the principle from the person mostly goes with a tendency to reduce to something monistic the essence of God as well as of Christianity. And at its root is an easy confusion between the idea of immanence and that of incarnation; as if the divine Incarnation in Christ were but the luminous summit of an intrinsic divine immanence, ejusdem generis , in the constitution of Humanity; as if Humanity were the real Son of God, with Christ as its most conspicuous individual case. But the Christian principle is not immanence, which is a philosopheme with little direct value for personal religion. It does not become religious till we are clearly sure that we mean the immanence of the transcendent. The principle of Christ’s relation to man is not a natural identity by constitution. We can say little about that. But it is a self-identification by will, by Christ’s eternal act of self-emptying and self-bestowal. A Christ who was the culmination of a divine immanence in Humanity might com¬ plete a process of divine self-realisation, but He would not perform an act of divine self-renunciation — meaning by divine such an act on the part of God. Principles may realise themselves, but persons alone can renounce them¬ selves. A self-realising Christ would not carry self- sacrifice into God, as the act does which brought Christ here; which also underlies all the detailed acts of self- sacrifice in His earthly career, and which makes man’s self- CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 157 sacrifice in union with Him to be not merely Godlike, but really divine, “ I live, yet not I but Christ in me.” Hence it is a defective ethic that works out of imma- nential theories even when Christian. They identify sin with selfishness in a one-sided and negative way. They ignore its positive aspect of hostility to God and aggression on Him. They invite sacrifice for others, but they give collective Humanity no eternal principle for its sacrifice, none to make sacrifice divine and not foolish and wasted. They may lay much stress on sacrifice to God, but they cannot carry home sacrifice by God. They set up in Christ less an act of salvation through self-sacrifice by God than a process of self-realisa¬ tion through the sacrificial principle of Humanity, which, however, cannot be guaranteed as pleasing to God because it cannot be carried into the divine nature itself. The cross, that is, becomes but functional in Christ, it is not organic, nor constituent of His appearance among men; it is the effect of an epiphany, but not the principle of an Incarna¬ tion. And selfishness can never be extinguished by an ethic of sacrifice so long as sacrifice is not placed at the core of religion by its revelation at the heart of the object of religion. Nothing can continue to evoke self-sacrifice in Humanity which does not find in Christ the self-sacrifice of a holy God, and therefore the supreme moral reality. For nothing can be conceived ethically higher than that God should sacrifice Himself to His own holiness for love of man. The act of the cross is the very nature of God’s self¬ revelation, which is His self-donation ; it is not simply one form of revelation, far less one phase of a moral ideal. The object of worship in Christ’s person is there among us by an act of self-sacrifice ; He does not simply perform such an act upon occasion when He has come there. His connection with Humanity is not one of continuous self-realisation, as if He crowned the great human process, and used sacrifice as a means on due occasion ; it is one of self-identification, by an initial and a compendious act of sacrifice possible only to a Person who has the absolute disposal of Himself. 158 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Christ was God giving Himself far more than man finding himself. The Incarnation is a moral act of this kind far more than a spiritual process. Therefore it cannot be monistic in its nature; for monism may stand many scientific tests, but it breaks down on the moral. Morality may undergo a process, but a process per se has nothing moral in it. Nor can man’s response to the Incarnation be a mere mystic or subliminal spirituality, but it must be a faith as historic and ethical in its heart and genius as the revelation which stirs it ; it must be a faith in that which once for all re-creates the conscience; and that a social and evangelical creed alone can be. I have recognised that the old way of putting the rationalist position differed from the new. It said that the principle and its prophet had no necessary connection, but only one external, passing, and at bottom accidental ; that the aqueduct did not necessarily guarantee the water; that the person might be most sincere and true but the principle wrong and false ; and the person might even con¬ ceivably live, as St. Paul did, to promote a later principle quite antagonistic to his first. That view marked the early days of the narrower rationalism, when both revela¬ tion and its critics were preoccupied with stateable truth more than cognisable reality, and when the work of the person as prophet was to convey truths and doctrines, supernatural or natural, as the critics’ work was to dissolve them. Everything, orthodox or heterodox, was a matter of truths. All was in the propositional region. But we have changed that. The new way of putting Lessing’s position abolishes that comparative indifference of the principle to the person. It couples up the connection and makes it necessary. The person is not charged with truth so much as with reality, action, life, and power. The charge is cognate, the vocation identical, with the person. The person is not the medium but the incarnation of the principle ; whose first adequate realisation was in a person with a central place in history. The redemptive principle CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 159 henceforth acted from Him, not as its expositor merely, but as its one vital historical source; and He became not simply its prophet but “ both its pattern and its Guarantee .” The phrase is from Biedermann, one of the most powerful and pious of those who postpone the person to the principle of Christ. But now may we stop a little on that word 44 guarantee ” ? I have had to use it myself already. And the ablest champions of the Christian principle as superior to Christ’s person (like Biedermann) are driven by the depth of their Christian experience to use it too. But why ? Is it not because, with their true religious feeling, and their masterly knowledge of religious history, both Christian and other, they do realise that the very element which distinguishes a guarantee from a prophet, a pattern, or a classic case, is for religion the one thing needful ? What is the meaning of the word guarantee ? Why must we speak of Christ as our Surety, with the old divines and these new thinkers ? What have we in the expression that we have not in speaking of Christ as the type, prophet or promoter of the principle ? Have we not in the use of such a word the surrender of the whole case, and the identification of the principle with the person ? Is it not a confession that, however it may be with philosophy, yet for religion, for the soul’s life, the person of Christ is the principle of Christianity and of the spiritual world ? Could anything less serve the purpose of religion, and plant the soul upon eternal reality ? Could a person, as a phase assumed by the principle, guarantee either its Universality or Eternity ? If the supreme principle is to be guaranteed by a supreme person it must be identical with it. For a person not identified and co-eternal with the principle, but merely its exemplary symbol in life, word and deed, could only utter in a most impressive way, even in his martyr death, his own life-deep conviction of the principle. Further he could not go. The thing he could not do is to guarantee that what was such a conviction for Him is the eternal life, power, and master of the world and the race. He could not assure the 160 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES man of to-day that the principle for which He died is always as mighty for the last reality of things, for God and Eternity, as it was for His own soul. That could only be if His soul and person were absolutely identified with that last reality and principle ; if Jesus of Nazareth were living eternal Godhead. To speak of Christ as the Guarantee of an eternal principle, as Biedermann’s religion makes him do, is to identify Him with it, as his theology does not. An ultimate can only be guaranteed by itself. That is the basis of the certainty, supremacy, and autonomy of religion in the soul. God swears by Himself because there is none greater. Our final authority must be God Himself in direct contact with Humanity, i. e. with History. He cannot be proved, because there is nothing more real and certain to which we can bring Him for sanction. And if the principle be that of sonship to a Father-God — that is surely a personal relation, if it have any meaning at all ; and it can guarantee itself only as a person : not by assuming the passing form of a person for an historic purpose, but by existing as an historic but universal person in whom the relation is realised germinally,1 perfectly, and for ever, by existing as the King of all personal sons and the ground of all sonship. If the word guarantee must be used (as those who are thinkers, and not historians simply, feel it must be for the effective base of a real religion), it can be used only to mean that in the historic person we have not the effect, nor the avatar, nor the intuition of the principle, but the principle itself. It can be used only in the sense that the person is the principle. And we are then left to choose whether the power identical with that person is the principle of Humanity, moving in fine spiritual processes, or a personal God bestowing Himself in a moral act. The person of Christ is an incarnation either upwards of the principle of Humanity, which is a Christianised positivism, or downwards of personal Godhead, which is positive Christianity. And between the visualisa¬ tion of a principle deeply immanent and the incarnation of a 1 God appears in Christ in mice, not in extenso. — Rotfie. CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 161 holy God, religion will not find it hard to choose, if it rise to the ethical level of Christian faith. The key to the person of Christ is to be found not in an intellectual conviction, philosophic or theologic, nor in a romantic piety, part mystical part wise, but in a positive religious experience of Him and a crucial moral decision behind which we cannot go in the quest for life’s reality. It is not a theory of Atonement that is the deep need of the hour, but the experience of it, the atoned soul. We need most, not a theology of religion, but a theology which is religion; not a theology of religion but of God ; not a speculative theology, which has always broken down, but a soteriological and experimental, which actually solves the moral crisis of the world. All that speculation can do for a Christology is but in the way of prolegomena. It may survey the ground, and even build the house and staff it, but the tenant does not arrive. It may trace a general process, cosmic or rational, and mark it emerging in the history of man’s progressive elevation and sanctity. It may note in the course of that history the powerful part played by various providential personalities, and even religions, that yet but stand and wait. Such geniuses may be as far above common men as these are above molluscs. Rut whether the principle of their service ever appears as a single person with the sole right to sign God’s autograph to all their witness — that no speculative treatment of the world can guarantee ; at least not power¬ fully enough for practical life and eternal committal in such a world as this is. It is a matter for a theology which is not speculative but dogmatic, on the basis of an historic experience by the conscience that He has come as God’s gift of Himself. Speculation has its great uses (so long as it is schooled and competent, and not amateur speculation).1 But at its best it has no gospel, it is not 1 Till, for instance, a passage like this (from Trelierne, before German philosophy was heard of) seems something else than absurd. “ For His very perfection God needs what is not God. An energy working outwards He must possess. Pie must think his non-ego. And considering what thought is for God, He must posit the non-ego. But the non-ego is a 162 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES propagandist, it is indifferent to success, and it is not for the pulpit, or the people, or history. Idealism founds no Society. Not that it is for that reason futile, or even inferior. It is simply different. It has a different work. It can neither be a religion nor infringe upon the indepen¬ dence of religion. But when we have found our soul in an historic salvation then speculation may richly enter, and metaphysic may amply deduce from a Saviour’s action for God a content of God in His nature and work. If for our faith Christ have the value of God we cannot help assigning to Him in our thought the nature of God. But the thought that affects faith is one thing, and that which takes the place of faith is another. The phenomenon of Christ is ultimate, and the faith that grasps it is the same. He is a final fact that cannot be constructed, and He can be construed but a little way, while He is received and trusted for eternity. The effect, then, of the theory of historical development on religion is twofold. 1. Either it denies that any final revelation of the abso-C' lute and eternal is possible in history. All is in evolution, all is relative, all is temporary, and the generations must live from hand to mouth. To which the answer is an old one, and a double — the identity of ground and goal. What is it that develops ? And to what end does it move, so that we may know whether the movement is development, and the evolution is progress ? What develops ? How is it possible to think of development unless there be something that develops ? And if a something be admitted, but a revelation of its nature and object be denied, then how negation, a limitation of God. And it would destroy His absoluteness, if that were not necessarily restored by His absorption of the non-ego as such, and His recovery of Himself in the Creation. Distinguish the two timeless functions — the positing of the non-ego, or its counterpositing, in Creation, and the absorption or surmounting of the antithesis, or its Repositing, in a Reconciliation.” That may be true, or it may not be true ; but it cannot be dismissed as unmeaning. CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 163 are we to tell if its movement be development, i.e. if its action be giving fuller effect to its nature ? We can¬ not, unless we have some means, religious or philosophic, of convincing ourselves that the God of history is also its ground, and the person the principle. It is impossible to speak of all being in evolution, all relative, unless there be an absolute to evolve and to make relation possible and measurable. Two things, two stages, could be in no kind of relation except by virtue of a unity which made them comparable. There could be no relative without an absolute, nothing temporal without the Eternal. So far from evolution excluding an absolute, therefore, it demands it for its existence ; and Time is only intelligible on a foundation of Eternity. 2. Or, admitting an absolute reality brought within our cognisance by revelation in an evolutionary history, one may go on, as we have seen, to deny the possibility of its complete and final revelation at any one point of time. And this is the view which practically carries most danger to Christianity. Practically it is most dangerous, because to the generous amateur it seems religious and broad. It appears Christian by acknowledging a revelation, only it spreads it over Humanity. And it seems to promise an intimate spirituality by an experience of God in the depth of each soul which is a revelation to us in the same sense in which it was to Jesus. Which leaves most men to a . subjectivity without a compass or a pole. If the possibility of the absolute and final in a person be conceded it may still be said, as by Strauss, that such a person could not appear at the beginning of a series but only at its close. And to that the answer would be on lines like these. The statement is one drawn from physical evolution rather than psychical or historic. For all history shows some of the greatest triumphs of poetic genius, and especially religious genius, in very early stages of society. Moreover, we have to make our most crucial decisions early in life. And it is, still further, a statement too obviously bound up with the Hegelianism Strauss represented, viz. m 2 164 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES that creation took its origin, not from a personal absolute at the beginning of the series, but from an idea of some monistic kind which only acquired the self-consciousness of personality at the end of the series as Man. Finally, if a revelation of the absolute is essential for faith, and it cannot come till the close, then for history it cannot be a factor at all. It would be history’s last product, and one dissociated from faith (which there was nothing to create). And to dissociate history from faith is to non-moralise it ; it is to reduce all to an ideal process, concerning which we could have no certainty that any ethical revelation was to be more sure at the goal than it had been active in the course. But it may be worth while before leaving the subject to ask here what it is that is really objected to bv many who refuse a unique finality to Christ’s experience and person. It is often the notion that the whole metaphysical being of God with all His divine attributes was identical with the human personality, Jesus. Now that is a state¬ ment that may mark certain crude Christologies at certain levels in the history of Christianity, but it is not the thing that is asserted by Christian faith ; and it has no more sense than the new dogma at the other extreme which savs that Christ was identical with Humanity. What faith has to do with is the personal unity in an equal Godhead of Son and Father, a unity which is moral, because holy, in its nature, though it is much more than - moral harmony ; a unity also on the great moral principle that subordination does not imply inferiority. There must be a metaphvsic of it, indeed, but that is deductive from the experience of faith, and not primary in producing faith, and not fixed in its form. Dogma, and especially metaphysical dogma, does not produce faith. It is only a temporary register of it. The function of dogma is to express the mind of the believing Church, not to prescribe to the inquiring world. The person of Jesus, however it may be metaphysically explained, has its first value CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 165 as an actual and complete manifestation of the absolute personality as holy love. The necessities and implicates of such a revelation made to experience form the only sure foundation of a doctrine of the Trinity. For Christ could not be such a manifestation to the soul without sharing in that absoluteness in the way of entire and eternal continuity of life. He shares in that absolute life as a constituent person ; He does not receive it into His person as a great unit of Humanity might, whose relative personality formed but a fit receptacle for the absolute Spirit. Nor is it as if other men were robbed of the divinity concentrated in Christ. For the greater a moral personality is the more room it has for others, whom it does not impoverish, but enrich and realise. And Christ makes real for those who enter communion with Him what without Him were a mere possibility, a mere bias to God. He is that which in them is only a destiny. He is the gracious destiny of all. He is the will and purpose of God for which they were but planned, but for which they are only in Him empowered. God truly was in Humanity before Christ was born, but as a presence and a power in contact, and not in communion; by His Spirit, but not, as He is in His Church, by His Holy Spirit. And He was in a created Humanity, moving always to an increate but historic Christ as at once its ground and its destiny ; in a Humanity created from the beginning with a view to that Christ as its free consummation ; created as it were round Christ, yea by Christ, and not merely so as to eventuate in a Christ at some far end, which was to be remotely divined rather than trusted as near, and which closed a series it did not produce. The end was in the beginning; the goal of the Church is also its ground. That is what is meant by a Christ the same yesterday, to-day and for ever. We cannot grasp too clearly the real issue of the present time. Since the death of Agnosticism it no more concerns the possibility or the reality of a revelation, but it concerns the finalitv of the revelation in Jesus Christ. The conflict 166 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES s is no more between religion and science, but between two forms of religion. The revelation is admitted both in Humanity and in Christ, and therefore religion is admitted, and a certain kind of faith has its due place. The Cosmos grows sacramental even for science. What is not admitted is the absoluteness, the finality, the cruciality for the soul’s eternity, of the historic Christ as the saving revelation. By which again is not meant the existence in Him of all possible knowledge; for religion is not a matter of know¬ ledge, but rather of the heart’s conscience. Nor is it meant that we have no indication outside Him of God’s thought ; but indication is not revelation, which means certainty, and concerns not God’s movements but His final purpose. It is meant that in Him we have that new moral departure which all the sequel can only unfold and enrich ; we have a new Creation, the new Humanity round which the old dies like a corn of wheat ; we have the turning-point of human destiny for all Eternity : we have the presence and act of God decisive for that purpose, a final salvation but not a final science of saving truth, a final faith but not a final theology. ESSAY VI CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT THE REFORMATION Rev. Prof. Whitney SYNOPSIS Changes in study of history; in method; origins; material. In Reformation period much still to be done ; a gulf between scholars and public ; neglect of continuity ; the period studied in fragments. Neglect of the Middle Ages. The Reformation — the outcome of the Middle Ages ; hence best to study its “ origins ”; incidental advantages. A view of the Middle Ages; forces at work ; the Renaissance ; Monastic revivals ; Brethren of the Common Life; Erasmus; Luther; Denifle’s work ; Justification by faith. The Middle Ages laid stress on corporate life ; the new emergence of individualism. The mediaeval disregard of individuality illustrated from literature; mediaeval education a link between the old and new ages; mystic theology another link; political thought. The Reformation writers were mediaeval in method ; Hugo Grotius ; popular writers. Importance of the third quarter of the sixteenth century; settling down. Political efforts after unity; the mediating theologians. The Council of Trent; later Lutheranism; sketch of Papal history; the feudal Papacy — the Tridentine Papacy a reassertion of the mediaeval feudalism; its antagon¬ ism to episcopal power, and to individualism. True aspect of the Reformation, a process more than a crisis. Signifi¬ cance of this view for the future. CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT THE REFORMATION The study of history both in its method and in its matter has undergone great changes. In its method greater stress is laid now upon “ origins ” and upon the tracing out of gradual growths : sudden revolutions, social upheavals, meteoric personalities, are more rarely assumed, and, when they are said to be found, the state¬ ment only leads us to distrust our guides. Natural Science has taught us to look for the gradual work of lesser agencies, for the earthworm with its fourteen years of patient work, rather than for the plough with its com¬ pressed energy of a single day. We are told that the human system always holds within itself the germs of many diseases which are only held at bay by the power of resistance, and that, when some subtle cause lessens that power, the waiting germs make themselves effectively felt. Any age or any crisis may in much the same way be held in solution, as it were, in the age which precedes it. To understand the one we must know the other. And again, as Lord Acton has pointed out, the accu¬ mulation of historic material has made the work of the modern historian more difficult, and given him fresh responsibilities. With the presence of new witnesses to be cross-examined, with a more stringent law of evidence, old verdicts must be revised, and old prejudices put aside. When this has been done, passions that have been built up with age will lose their foundations, although the essential principles are left behind. In most fields of historic study this twofold task has been either wrought roughly to an end or else been much more than well begun. But when we come to the m 170 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Reformation we find a gulf, unbridged and untunnelled, separating critical scholars and the multitude of the unlearned. Nowhere has the gathering of materials, national, political, economic, theological, liturgical, and biographical, been more extensive or more many sided. And yet when leaving that inner, and too often secluded, room in which the scholars work, we pass into the general reading-room of the inquiring public, we find old verdicts still repeated with an unshaken confidence, old prejudices still at their strongest and their worst. It would be too much, of course, to expect that even the scholars themselves should be at one : it is much if they are even at peace amid their differences among themselves. A few of them may still keep a violence of expression or an intolerance of mind that should belong only to intellects less trained and passions less controlled. But there has been naturally a great improvement, and that in spite of some lapses in taste. The marvellous scholarship and accurate knowledge of Denifle makes us regret more deeply the anger which disfigures his great posthumous work upon Luther and Lutheranism, and it would be easy to take examples of the same failing from the other side, since sides there must be. Yet after all there has been a great advance. Thus although the Papacy has often been treated with an admiration too blind or a hatred too fierce, even here there is substantial agreement between, for instance, Creighton and Pastor; each reaches to impartiality and balance, even if the one seems to do it more through his knowledge of the world, and the other through his love of research. And to speak of those manuals which are more summary and bibliographical, we are able to pass from the Catholic Funk to the Protestant Moeller revised by Kawerau without disturbance. It is easy to see why there has been imperfect filtration from the level of scholars to the level of the ordinary reader. The Reformation has its Napoleonic legends of many different Napoleons in one camp or another. And these legends must be handled delicately lest they should CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 171 perish, and weaken Empires by their fall. Because the Reformation saw the beginnings of many systems and policies that separate us to-day, we are too apt to assume sudden creative forces at its birth, to ascribe finality to its judgments. Romanist, Anglican, Lutheran, Protestant are all guilty in this way, although they may label the forces differently or choose different judgments for approval. We may also neglect continuity or again forget the axiom that history should be studied always as a process, not as a picture; and we thus often hide the true view of the Reformation. It has been studied, for instance, too much in detail, in single scenes, apart from its continuity as a whole. Thus in English history it has been too much the fashion to take the reign of Henry VIII apart : as a result some threads of interest have seemed to hang quite loosely, the significance of some things has been lost, and incident¬ ally surprise has been caused that the king, reforming so far, did not reform much further. In German history in the same way the period up to 1529 has drawn so much notice to itself that the significant features of the later history are obscured : the activity of Melanchthon, the Concord of Wittenberg, the many attempts at union among Protestants, the significant labours of Gropper, Pflug and the other “mediating” theologians, the pre¬ parations for a Council, and the negotiations at Trent, the activity of the Jesuit Canisius at the court of Ferdinand I : all these are essential parts of the history, and the more critical earlier years are easily misunderstood if these are left out of account. We gain but an imperfect view of a man and his character from a study of one crisis in his life : in the same way movements must be studied as a whole, and the history of Lutheranism — to take one instance — is only made intelligible by a study of the later sixteenth century. English religious history suffers from the same restricted view. Puritanism, for instance, is a continuous development of one factor in the earlier Reformation : from Tindal through Hooper and Cartwright to the Millenary petition is an unbroken history; on the other 172 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES hand, the school of Laud represents an earlier school that had been dominant under Henry VIII. When we give these later days their true place in the history, the whole becomes consistent : like the spires of Wren’s city churches, isolated periods blend together, and we understand each separate one the better for its fellows. The true lower limit of the Reformation period for the Continent falls somewhere about 1648, for England about 1660. But it is even more necessary to begin our study of the Reformation by understanding the Middle Ages. We still hear mediaeval used as roughly equivalent to dark and ignorant; the beauty of the Franciscan ideal, the glory of mediaeval architecture, are held to be things strangely out of keeping with their surroundings, odd manifestations like a hardened criminal’s love for his mother. Too often the Reformation is summed up as an attack upon mediaeval abuses : this is a double injustice — it is unjust to the Reformation, for it ignores the positive side of the move¬ ment; it is unjust to the Middle Ages, for in practice it seems to assume their principal activity to have been the production of abuses. We gain a truer view of the case if we regard the Reformation as the outcome of the Middle Ages, not merely as a matter of chronology but of spiritual descent. And there is one great gain from the study of origins.” We start, often unconsciously, with the ideas of our own times ; we view the past from our own standpoint; we see too plainly the lie of the roads that lead to us, the trend of the watershed that slopes towards us; there are other roads that would appear just as plainly from another standpoint, but them we cannot see; there are streams and valleys that are hidden from our sight. Our stand¬ point fixes the details for our view: we become more self- centred: our own ideas are driven more firmly into our being. We miss the larger revelation that comes from a study of a larger world, the revelation of a purpose wider than our own. But when we study 44 origins ” everything is different : we must see side by side the pregnant possi¬ bilities which have made ourselves on the one hand, and, CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 173 on the other hand, have formed people very different from ourselves ; we retrace the path of the ages, and we learn many things as we come to know the road. This process brings with it a state of mind very different from that which dwells mainly in the present, one which is calmer and more scientific. There is between the two states of mind some¬ thing of the difference that there is between the thinker who studies the electrical theory of matter and the highly trained electrical engineer ; the latter seems for the moment much nearer the actual world of life, but the former in reality does much more for the growth of science and the progress of mankind. To look closely at origins lets fresh oxygen into the heated chamber of present discussions. The study of early Gaul, for instance, has done something to allay animosity between Germans and French ; the study of early Germanic institutions has done something to bring together the ardent democrat and the stubborn monarchist. To him who seeks the truth first of all there is alwavs something added that he did not seek. This is the great advantage in studying origins, and when we stand beside the cradle from which great principles have grown, we learn to distinguish them from the passions in which we have clothed them. If any age needs to be studied in this way it is the age of the Reformation ; and yet not only the popular taste, but even more serious study, has mainly chosen other methods. It is well to be reminded (as we are by Dr. Kidd in the preface to his excellent Documents illustrative of the Continental Deformation) that “ origins are common ground. Developments mark the points of divergence.” Differences, therefore, are best studied in that common ground, and not in their more crystallised form. To do this is not — and this truth must be emphasised — to ignore principles or to minimise them. It is rather to study prin¬ ciples where their real importance, their substance apart from their accidents, is best to be understood. No historian has done more for the Reformation period than Maurenbrecher, and he was always searching for origins 174 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES in the history of thought; the delimitation of principles, it sounds a truism to say it, is best done on the border line itself; diplomatists in official capitals are apt to grasp too widely and to yield too lightly. Where our period has been studied in this way, the results have been most fruit¬ ful. In the preparation for the period too, how much is to be learnt from the history of local efforts at reformation : from a better knowledge of reformers before the Reforma¬ tion; from the history of the great Councils; from the study of the influences moulding various reformers. What a new light is thrown upon later issues when we see the future Cardinal Pole approaching Melanchthon in his views of justification, or find Caraffa, the future Paul IV, a practical reformer of the Erasmian type. To know men before they diverged is often to grasp the secret of their divergen¬ cies. Hence it is needful for the sake of understanding the Reformation to study its origins in the Middle Ages and to study its characters not where they diverged most widely, but at moments when they approached most closely. Centuries seem to vary in their energies as well as in their aims. Thus the thirteenth century is the greatest of mediaeval centuries, great in its characters, in its institu¬ tions, in its movements. After its glow and rich variety the fourteenth century seems dull and drab. But that, too, has its movements of beginning life; the Conciliar struggles lead to new discussions of ecclesiastical polity, just as the strife between Emperor and Pope had led to discussions of Sovereignty, of Church and State. When great questions such as these were raised, thought was stimulated and the fresh theories which were formulated became in their turn ground for new discussion. Thus thought gained a new vigour and a fresh variety before the Middle Ages closed — a vigour which was specially felt in the Universities, above all at Paris. This tradition of thought was handed down to the later Gallicans, connected on the side of politics with the French monarchy, on the side of learning with a long line of illustrious scholars. CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 175 If we were to confine our attention to France, the transition from the Middle Ages to the age of Louis XIV seems gradual and smooth ; there is little internal response to the external thunderstorm caused by the clash of Papal claims and Protestant individualism. It is true France did show herself alive to the charm of the Renaissance, and of that movement more must be said. Here it is enough to sa> that the Renaissance should be regarded as a movement within the Middle Ages, not as an accidental disturbance from outside. It had begun before the taking of Con¬ stantinople by the Turks in 1453; Greek had been taught in Europe before that date and had found many devotees; men who lived after its 4 4 abolition ” now began to long for its restoration. The future Cardinal Bessarion with his much-noticed beard represented the Eastern Church at the Council of Florence (1439), and by his continued sojourn in the West became one of the many channels along which Greek culture spread. The flight of scholars from Constantinople to Europe was less important than the scattering of manuscripts that followed the fall of New Rome, but neither of them caused, even if they did slightly quicken, the movement which in many ways recalled the other and earlier Renaissance of the thirteenth century. A sign of the new life which stirred the world in the Renaissance is to be seen in the many monastic and semi- monastic revivals of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Again and again monastic reformers had re¬ vived the old ideal and founded new orders or strengthened the old; then again and again the impetus had died away and a fresh reform had been needed. The process was unbroken, and in the series the reorganisation of the Lower Saxon Benedictines by John Busch takes its place. The Augustinian Friars followed with a reform of a deeply spiritual type, the movement that gave us Staupitz and influenced Luther. A little later Italy felt the same impulse to monastic reform, spreading with a closer grasp of the Renaissance and of practical life into the Theatines of Caraffa — afterwards Paul IV. If Spain only felt the 176 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES impulse later, it produced in the Society of the Jesuits an example whose success has claimed them from the mediaeval for the modern world. Here, too, we have a continuous history which bears throughout the same impress, mediaeval in its type. But more striking still is the history of the Brethren of the Common Life (1380). They were semi-monastic, for they lived a common life even if they were not monks ; their work was practical and thoroughly Christian in tone, education was one great part of it, and from them the Renaissance in Germany seems to have inherited this char¬ acteristic. Their schools spread from the Netherlands into north-west Germany, and wherever they went they carried the love of the classics, a taste for copying manuscripts, and a devotion to St. Jerome. Under these brethren Erasmus began his education. His earlier letters, which England can now study either in the fine Latin edition of Mr. S. P. Allen, or the excellent English of Mr. Nichols, make it plain that before he knew Colet he had devoted himself to 44 sound learning,” and had already taken St. Jerome for his model. By 44 sound learning ” he meant that solid theology, founded upon the Bible of the Fathers, upon which he placed his hopes for the world and the Church. Had this been encouraged always, abuses would not have grown up so readily and so widely : in its en¬ couragement and its further growth he saw the best path to a possible reformation. His letters to his early friends (notably to Cornelius) show that under these earlier in¬ fluences Erasmus had learnt what true theology was, and how, as with St. Jerome, theology and scholarship could be united. Critics to-day may doubt — as Erasmus himself, indeed, doubted at times — what was his exact share in the Reformation. But there can be no doubt that any history of it would be incomplete which did not take in his name. Such a history, however, might, on the other hand, begin with him and do so with but little sacrifice of completeness. And yet a history of mediaeval thought and scholarship, which only looked backwards and left the Reformation CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 177 altogether out of sight, might well take him as a type of what the thoroughly mediaeval Brethren of the Common Life aimed at in their education. Hence in the case of Erasmus — so often called (possibly with an undue de¬ preciation of Aeneas Sylvius) the first of the moderns — it is easy to bridge over the gap between two distinct periods. It may be worth while to come back later to his 44 modernity.” But if the modern world may claim him, so surely may the mediaeval. The personality of Luther has always seemed to the common man easy to understand, and to the scholar hard to explain. Wherein lay the secret of his power ? 44 What made Luther ” Lord Acton thought to be an enigma not yet fitly answered. Behind his vigorous manhood lay the peasant life of the countryside and the burgher life of the town, two things that passed with changes gradual and small from the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries. There was also another part of his background a little more modern in its colouring — that outburst of University life reaching from the foundation of Erfurt (1392) to that of Wittenberg (1502). Erfurt from the first was marked by its devotion to Biblical studies, never wholly neglected in Universities but enforced from time to time, as when Grosse¬ teste at Oxford ordered the first morning lecture to be on the Bible. Wittenberg was the great home of Renaissance learning with its new and daring research. The one University made Luther, and the other he helped to make. The life of the peasantry, of the city and of the University were varied parts in the background of Luther’s life, and along with them mingled the earnestness, the deep personal piety, that marked the Augustinian revival. But back¬ grounds and influences do not, of course, wholly explain a man, either in his life or his influence. Since the appearance of Denifle’s work upon Luther, controversy has been busy. The bitterness of theological prejudices — always sensitive with the sensitiveness that knows itself not quite in the right, and must therefore cloak prejudices as principles — has been keen ; we have N 178 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES been carried backwards into other days more robust (may we call it ?) in their methods. But it has also been pleasant to see how scholars have passed behind the smoke of battle to mark out exactly what ground has been gained or lost. The most solid part of Denifle’s work is his treatment of 44 justification,” and by his continuous exposition of it from the writings of mediaeval theologians one thing is certainly proved. It will be remembered how Luther describes the joy he felt upon reaching the true explanation of 44 the righteousness” or “justice of God” (Rom. i. 17). He had believed, so he said, that the justice meant God’s 44 active justice,” that by which he judged mankind, but suddenly it flashed upon him that the 44 justice ” was the 44 passive justice ” by which God attributed His own righteousness to mankind. By this revelation he was lifted from despair to joy. But Denifle has shown that this interpretation so far from being novel was traditional ; that Luther himself must have known this earlier exegesis, and had indeed given it in his lectures upon Romans delivered before, according to his later narrative, the new light had dawned upon him. There is no need to suppose intentional deceit, for change of interests produces inexactness. It is never easy to retrace one’s mental growth, and natures such as Luther’s ahvays find it hard to be either just or exact in descriptions of their former mental states. 44 Confessions,” even if poured forth by a St. Augustine, are given to exaggeration, to shades too dark and contrasts too sharp. But the special truth which stands out, and which must be admitted in any future estimates of Luther, is that here, where his cardinal doctrine of 44 justification by faith ” was concerned, he was more mediaeval than we are apt to think. To put it in other words, the break in the history of doctrine was not even in the case of Luther so abrupt as has been thought. The mediaeval treatment of the doctrine con¬ tained, in germ if we like, many possible growths ; there were many elements in the treatment, and by alteration of the emphasis laid upon some of these, a different result CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 179 might be gained. Ritschl’s masterly treatment of the mediaeval theologians has illustrated the existence of these diverse elements. Denifie has shown the exact mediaeval teaching in one essential matter where the break between it and Luther was held to be most abrupt. The new light which changed the life of Luther had shone throughout the ages of darkness. So far as this one matter was concerned, there was no great revolution, although there was a change in proportion and a shifting of emphasis. For there were different elements in the mediaeval doctrine, and the omission of any one of these would naturally alter the proportions or even the nature of the whole. Thus Gardiner found fault with Cranmer not for the emphasis he placed upon 44 faith ” but for his neglect of 44 charity.” It is significant to notice the direction in which a differ¬ ence between Luther’s teaching and the mediaeval teaching must be sought, and may be found. The mediaeval doctrine always kept in view the fact that life was lived within the Church, that the processes of salvation were not purely individual. It was within the sphere of corporate life that salvation was wrought and gained. With Luther, on the other hand, the individual was chiefly thought of, and the process was personal, mainly or even altogether; it was the sinner’s conviction of his salvation which really was his salvation. A man stood face to face with God, and in the intensity of that personal and individual meeting, the corporate life, as the sphere of faith, ceased to have its former importance. This element had not been lacking in the older view, but it had been qualified and modified by the other element of the corporate life. In the same way Luther’s attack on Indulgences was made in the interest of the individual life, which in this respect was being sacrificed to the supposed interests of the corporate body. So, too, the refusal to accept Papal authority to which he was gradually pushed in the Leipzig Disputation was an assertion of individual freedom. Prierias had said (and Eck agreed with him) the Church was the Pope, and what the Pope sanctioned Avas right : against this Luther asserted N 2 180 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES the claims of conscience. The whole tendency of mediaeval thought, indeed, everywhere and in everything was to place the society above the individual, the school above its isolated member. From this leading fact of mediaeval life there arises the great difficulty of discussing mediaeval authorship. No man thought or wrote for himself : he preferred to take the verv words of other authors and he held «/ himself perfectly at liberty to do so. The continuous chronicle built up by life after life, handed on from genera¬ tion to generation, was the type of mediaeval work. Even the Imitatio Christi is a composite work, and it is most probable that Thomas a Kempis was rather editor or even scribe than an author for whom we must probably search in Italy. Such a writer merged himself in the band of other writers who had worked before, and he lost himself in the line of those who came alter. From something of the same cause come the many difficulties which meet the student of Wvclif. It is very difficult to say how much “ editing ” his English works may have undergone : indications of different dates exist side by side in the same work, and the same difficulty appears, although to a lower degree, in the Latin works. Outside Wvclif’s own work, too, there was a more popular Lollard literature shaped and reshaped and then shaped again, about which it is difficult to say anything as to authorship : individual writers were merged in the school, and at last — to take the crowning example which Loserth has shown us — Hus copied word for word, save with the substitution of Bohemia for Anglia, long passages of Wyclif’s work. There was no law of copyright in the Middle Ages, and men liked to repeat ideas in the very phrase of their original expression. There are, again, mediaeval works, such as the Prick of Conscience , ascribed to Rolle of Hampole, which have no personal touch, and where the personal note is altogether wanting. One must not expect to find the rights of ownership written plainly on the surface or even revealed beneath it. The ascription to a special writer, even the fact that a work may CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 181 be claimed for him, makes no difference. It is easy to prove the absence of such evidence of ownership, but it is not possible to go further and state that because of its absence the claim to authorship understood in the mediaeval sense is unfounded. There is, just because of their method, an elusiveness about mediaeval writers which makes investi¬ gation into authorship often very difficult, and often almost useless. There is little of the individual, there is much of the school, to be found in the work. This is so, simply because the individual was little thought of, and thought little of himself, while the school was placed above him. It is a commonplace that this preference for the society above the individual shows itself in every part of mediaeval life, political and economic, as well as religious. But in modern times all is changed. The individual now bulks more largely : he is even apt sometimes to take his projection upon the Brocken of his age as giving his real dimensions. But the change — which is seen most clearly in the realm of art — has its gain as well as its loss. The individual misses something of discipline, the world loses something of coherency, but there is a gain in variety and personal energy. In art, for instance, the earlier mediaeval painters (as Mr. Grant Allen has so well shown), dealing with sacred scenes such as the “ Annunciation ” or the traditional marriage of the Virgin, had reproduced the same characters much in the same situations : they looked at the pictures of their forerunners as types which they must follow closely ; departures from traditional treatment were common only in the backgrounds, such as those in the beautiful inset landscapes of Lorenzo di Credi. At length we come to later days when painters relied more upon themselves, and gave their individual tastes larger scope in composition and selection. Apart from the natural growth in technical skill we gain in variety and richness of thought, although there is a loss, probably inevitable with the growth of Art, in religious sympathy and reverence. But the marked change in Art as the 182 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Middle Ages come to an end illustrates the general change which is also found elsewhere. In this emergence of the individual lay the great secret, and the great power, of the sixteenth century. Its great men are those who show individual power by a revolt against the force of society, not as in some other ages by their support of society. Years of a many-sided education in the discipline of a many-sided corporate life had done its work, and the individual was sometimes educated enough, sometimes merely thought himself educated enough, to take his place as an individual, not merely as a member of a society. Side by side with the ready acceptance of a corporate life there had been frequent murmurings against its restrictions, or its occasional tyranny. The mediaeval heretic had made his protest, but he was for the most part of little significance for the history of thought, as the great mediaeval thinkers were rather on the side of society and of system. But as the break-up of the Middle Ages drew near these murmurings had become louder and commoner. They are heard, perhaps, most of all in the field of economics : the manor, the guild, give place — although but gradually — to in¬ dividuals in competition, and to the recognised sovereignty of the slowly-shaped national state. Old customs, old privileges, little by little lose their force. Money-rents, a wage-earning class, long growths of distant beginning, become fixed parts of social and economic arrange¬ ments. All these are regulated by barter and bargain, by the play of individual wishes and interests rather than by the older rules of corporate life and corporate interests. The Revolt of the Peasants in England (1381), the long-delayed Peasants’ War in Germany (1524) are parts of the general process. A general rise of a new nobility, the growth of a richer merchant class, are both part of the same movement. There was a general impatience of old restraints ; there was a new feeling of individual power, a longing to risk individual actions and to further individual interests. For reasons of this kind, too, the CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 183 monastic life had begun to lose its attraction. Founders of monasteries were rarer, and inmates of monasteries were fewer. This result was, of course, intensified by the corruptions which were to be found in some cases, by the comparative uselessness of a monastic life compared with its activity in older days, and by the loss of a sufficiently high ideal, testified to by the frequent attempts at reform already mentioned. Towards the close of the Middle Ages there was, then, an outburst of individualism. We have lately learned what boundless energy works in the motion of the tiny parts of a body apparently at rest, and what manifestation of energy results from the disturbance of their equilibrium. Something of the same kind happened with mediaeval society : its individual parts seemed released from coher¬ ence, and there was a great display of individual energy. There was, therefore, power to be utilised, but there was also power that might be misused. There was a need of instruction and guidance, and thus fresh responsibility was placed on those who ought to give them. At the very time when the Church and its leaders were suffering from past neglects and present defects, a new and pressing responsibility was brought upon it and them. It was this which made the real crisis of the Reformation. It was the mishandling of this crisis which made the tragedy. In this individualism is to be found that which separates the mediaeval from the modern world. We may return for a moment to the common description of Erasmus as the first of the moderns. This is true so far as his way of looking at things and his wit is concerned, with the one qualification that Aeneas Sylvius (Pius II) was almost as modern in his humour. In Erasmus there is an openness about himself and his feelings, almost a display of himself : the personal touch transfigures everything : he goes his own way and he judges everything from his own point of view. He laughs at himself, at his weaknesses and his adventures, he expects others to laugh with him and be interested in him. A truly mediaeval writer would never expect others 184 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES to be interested in him for himself : he would enlarge in¬ stead upon his monastery or his home. Erasmus is always, first and foremost, an individual, and even strives to be a personality. It is here that his modern spirit is to be found. The absence or the presence of the individual element is something of a test by which we distinguish between mediaeval and modern times. But it is true, on the other hand, that both Erasmus and Luther give us an unfavourable description of the system under which they were brought up. In the case of Erasmus his letters to his early friends serve to correct the impression which might be taken from passages of description. There are few writers but could find faults in their schools, or at any rate in the methods of education followed there. When Erasmus, moreover, spoke of the system that had produced him, he was trying to raise the tone of education, or he was making out a ease for himself ; he was dealing with his facts more as a literary man than as an historian. But it is clear that in spite of faults easy to find, and of mistakes easy to see, the teachers among the Brethren of the Common Life had some¬ thing at any rate of a great ideal; they did aim, although possibly with some deviation, at a sound classical and theo¬ logical education. The somewhat dark picture Erasmus draws when it is his object to draw a dark picture, has to be combined with others if we would have the absolute truth. Something the same is the case when Luther, in his later years, turns to describe his own past. Here, again, Denifle’s argument supplies some corrections. Luther, in writing nearer the years he depicted, spoke more favour¬ ably of his own monastic training. When in later years he looked at that past life through the smoke and dust of many controversies, some arising out of the monastic life and vows, he deepened the shades and dwelt only upon the darker features. At any rate the figure of Staupitz with his real halo of piety, the traditions of Erfurt with its Biblical studies, remain untouched, and the impression CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 185 they give us is confirmed by Luther’s own earlier words. The unfavourable words used both bv Erasmus and Luther, when they deal with the mediaeval system under which they began to learn, do not justify the con¬ clusion that they owed little to that system. In both cases the personal equation of the observer is unusually large, and something must be deducted to gain a true observation. If other links are sought between the Middle Ages and the Reformation, we might turn to the mystic theologians. They were strong in their reception of individual experi¬ ences, strong in their close, personal relations with God. In Rolle of Hampole, to take a typical case, there was no repudiation of the Church system of the time, of the claims of authority, or of the brotherhood of others. These were all accepted as part of the furniture of life. But while many mediaeval theologians made the individual sub¬ ordinate to the Church, to be trained and disciplined by it in his individual life, the mystic theologians sometimes placed the individual above the corporate life, sometimes lost sight of the latter altogether. Tauler’s sermons had an immense attraction for Luther : the 44 Deutsche Theo- logie ” — which he ascribed not only to Tauler’s school, but to Tauler himself — appealed to him with the same force. It is this assertion of the inner and individual side of religious life which makes so many mystic theologians seem not only out of touch with their day, but almost in rebellion against it ; it is in this sense, and in no other, that they can be called 44 forerunners of the Reformation.” Another outcome of the Middle Ages can only be mentioned here — and that is its political thought. Here, again, the result of closer study has been to show mediaeval political thought as a really coherent and solid system. Nothing could be more modern than the theories of Marsilio of Padua. The long contests of Pope and Emperor — beginning with the struggle upon Investitures — had raised the question of Church and State, and in a later phase of sovereignty. The limits of ecclesiastical power, both 186 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES against the State and within the ecclesiastical body itself, were discussed first in the course of the same struggle, and again in the period of the Great Councils of the West. The expression of thought was perhaps sometimes fan¬ tastic, but the thought itself was often significant. When Wyclif, for instance, expressed his theory of dominion (borrowed as it was from FitzRalph of Armagh) in the statements that “ all dominion was founded in grace,” and that “ dominion was lost by mortal sin,” the doctrine seems strange. It makes all authority, from sovereignty down to the control of land, depend upon personal right¬ eousness, and thus it leads to anarchy. His qualification of the theory by the assertion that “ God must submit to the Devil,” sounds more fantastic still. But it was meant to limit the theory to ideal conditions, and to say that under present circumstances the best of men must submit to the worst — in a word, that power did not depend upon righteousness but on social facts, and the theory itself was meant to enforce the lesson that for all power and its exercise the holder had to answer before God. To say this was to enforce responsibility, to represent all power as a sacred trust. This truth was as necessary as the form of its expression was fantastic. It was to speculations such as these that sixteent h - century political thinkers went back as soon as they felt bound to formulate a system. The outstanding fact of their day was the formation of great states with strong monarchies. The mediaeval theory of sovereignty came in usefully here; the mediaeval theorists had incidentally made large use of Roman law and of classical examples ; this use fitted in naturally with the revival of the classical languages. But the freshness of thought in the later age has been over-estimated ; for the first half of the century there are few signs of freshness — if we except Machiavelli, a product of politics in Italy where every man strove for himself, and an exponent of the ethics of selfishness ; only in the latter half of the century do the new con¬ ditions of life show themselves in a new freshness of CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 187 thought. The more the mediaeval thinkers are studied, the less violent the break appears ; Bartolus, as Maitland and Dr. Figgis have shown us, bridges over an apparent gulf. The vast body of mediaeval political literature was not buried out of sight, and one significant link of thought may be noted. Hus in his Latin works largely copied Wyclif, as we noted before. At the crisis of the Leipzig Disputation (1519) a printed volume of Hus’s writings was placed in Luther’s hands, and thus some of Wyclif’s characteristic teaching upon questions between Church and State filtered through to Luther. If in some ways he was ready to confess himself a Husite, the truer name when we bear everything in mind would seem to have been a Wyclifite. The duty of the State to reform the Church had been a favourite doctrine with the mediaeval reformer. It was preached more effectively and in a more original way by Luther to the many German princes. There was, further, a large amount of anti -papal literature handed down by the Middle Ages : the Confutatio Primatus Papae, probably by the Erfurt Franciscan Matthias Doring and written about 1442-44, is an example ; it largely follows Marsilio of Padua and has some links with other works resulting from the Council of Basel — the Squalores Romanae Curiae , the Speculum Aureum , among them : it discusses and rejects the Wyclifite attack upon clerical property, but it decides strongly against ecclesiastics holding sovereignty — a distinction which carries us back to the celebrated Compromise of Paschal II in the Investi¬ ture contest. Doring at Erfurt was one of these writers ; others had a centre at Prague ; Matthias of Cracow, another of them, died as Bishop of Worms. There was here a tradition which had not wholly died out, and the works themselves remained to be a storehouse for later arguments. Between mediaeval and Reformation literature the break is in some other ways not so marked as might be supposed. If we turn to treatises such as the Loci Communes of Peter Martyr, or Theodore Beza’s Tractiones Theologicae , and select one special topic such as marriage and divorce, 188 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES we find the historical treatment to be mediaeval in type : precedents of ancient peoples, of Old Testament times, of the later Roman Empire, are collected much as in mediaeval writers, and it is easy to see that they are held to have a special value as precedents irrespective of their historical setting or of any principle behind them : we might be reading mediaeval writers. There is nothing of the modern spirit in treating of the past. The same holds good — to take another example- — of the earlier writers upon international law. Hugo Grotius in his celebrated work, De Jure Belli et Pads , handles his classical examples, makes his deductions from Imperial Law, in a thoroughly mediaeval way. One is reminded of the controversy upon the sources of the Nile between Aeneas Sylvius and Gregory of Heimburg, where the question is settled mainly by references to ancient writers. This characteristic of the great work of Grotius is sometimes explained as due to the revival of classical studies, but it is really a character¬ istic of mediaeval writers also : parallels from the works of Wyclif or any voluminous mediaeval writer might easily be found. It is true, of course, that learning became wider and the collected instances therefore more numerous as time went on, but the method of treatment is the same and is essentially mediaeval. And yet there are in these writers features which would often be called modern. The appeal to Scripture is at first sight one of these, but the words of Schubert (in his Outlines of Church History) state the truth : “ What is known as the Scripture principle appeared long before the Reformation — in some cases, as in that of Marsilius, in a very crude form ; and the learned Bible studies, which reached their height in the works of Erasmus and Reuchlin, are based on a study of the original language and run counter to tradition, were not a product of the Reforma¬ tion, but a pre-condition of it.” A comparison of sixteenth-century with earlier writers shows us not so much a sudden change as a rearrange¬ ment of ideas and material, a process spreading over many CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 189 years and, in the end, giving us something very unlike what was there to begin with. Rut it takes some time before the change either in style or thought is marked. The earlier Reformers write in the style of their scholastic predecessors, and the transition from the scholastic writers is a much more gradual process than we are apt to assume. Something the same holds good, too, with more popular literature. The exact connection between Lollard and early sixteenth-century tracts has yet to be investigated ; there are curious likenesses which may be nothing more. Tindal has a ring of Purvey, there is much common to them in disposition, but it is impossible to prove a literary con¬ nection. Nevertheless, Lollard tracts were reprinted and adapted — especially about the period 1530-60 — and the object of re-issue was to show that the opinions of the Reformers were not novel. So far were the revolutionists of the age from wishing to appear revolutionary. But save for the claim, in some cases only the pretensions, to scholarship there is no abrupt change as we pass from the tracts of the one age to those of the other. The control of Lutheranism soon passed from the theo¬ logians to the princes. Zwinglianism — a much more radical force — had shown itself, but after the second peace of Kappel (1531) had lost its power; it had aimed at large political combinations and failed. Lutheranism and the Catholic reaction divided Switzerland between them until the appearance of Calvinism. Calvin cared little about the practice of States or the force of tradi¬ tion : he cared much for what he knew to be the law of God ; he had no doubt about the right of the Christian Church to dictate and to legislate. It is needless here to discuss the differences between French and Scottish Calvinism; it is enough to note that Calvin’s theories and legislation have a clearness and consistency lacking to Luther’s. The appeal to Scripture, the appeal to the individual conscience, become clearer, they are disen¬ tangled from the reaction against existing usage which directed Zwinglianism, and from the submission to the 190 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES civil power which dominated Lutheranism. When the first half of the sixteenth century is over the religious and political situations are clearer. Up to that time it is easy to see what forces are work¬ ing, but it is hard to say what their final effect will be. When we reach the time after the last sessions of the Council of Trent this is easier to foretell. Men and things are settling down, and settling down apart from each other. The earlier years of the century upon which so much stress is often laid are not then those in which the broad lines are permanently laid down. They are followed by a period of interaction, of years in which men modify their views in one direction or another, as did some lead¬ ing Humanists, and sometimes pass from one roughly marked off group to another group of the same kind. They are years in which permanent division is not a certainty ; rearrangement and compromise are in the air. Then, roughly about the year 1570, conditions change, the atmosphere clears, and the divisions, tentatively and hesitatingly formed, become sharply marked, inevitable and apparently permanent. We have finally reached a new age. The third, not the first, quarter, then, of the sixteenth century is that in which lasting divisions are finally made. In one of his earlier essays, Ranke asserted that until somewhere about 1560-70 there was a possibility of religious unity, that the divisions and separations begun and threatened before that time were not held by men to be irreparable and permanent. And Ranke did not suffer from this assertion as the great scholar Schomann did from one of his earlier theories about the Athenian Constitution. He had changed his mind and come to condemn his earlier belief. Rut fifty years later he still found men repeating his earlier opinions in spite of his own recantation. Ranke never needed to change his opinion, and all investigation has shown, as happened often with his trained conjectures, how true and enlight¬ ening his opinion was. CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 19 1 Political conditions throughout the century had great effect both for and against unity. Both the Imperial and Habsburg interests demanded internal unity in Germany. This had been seen by Charles V, and he had striven to reach it first by the assembly of a council, national if not ecumenical, and then at a later stage (1547) by the use of force. He, like Elizabeth of England, had thrust upon him the task of gaining unity and sought to gain it in ways like hers. The essentials of unity were a reform of abuses and some measure of agreement in doctrine. The latter was the more difficult to bring about, but even here something was done, especially in the discussions which preceded the Diet at Regensburg (April 1541). We may pass over the details, interesting as they are in connection with the history of doctrine, and significant as they are of tendencies easily overlooked. It was possible to take very different views upon the doctrine of justification by faith, around which lay the most formidable of the obstacles to be overcome. There had been many elements in the mediaeval view, and what was now needed was a broad comprehensive statement combining the varied truths which theologians saw singly and sometimes alone, a definition aiming at truth by inclusion of what¬ ever was partly true, and not by exclusion of whatever was partly mistaken. This was the task which the medi¬ ating school of theologians had set themselves. They could justify themselves by the discussions of the past; their difficulties lay with the present. It was the same task which the great Cappadocian Fathers had set them¬ selves in the age after Nicjea, and they approached it somewhat in the same spirit. The general Lutheran view laid stress upon individual salvation, upon the grace of Christ; the risk of this view lay in separating spiritual belief from holiness of life. Upon the other side it was easy to lay stress upon the interests of practical holiness and upon man’s own work. If this were done too exclusively the work of Christ might be depreciated, and here was the risk upon this side. 192 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Gropper, who prepared the Liber Ratisbonensis for a basis of discussion, strongly asserted justification by faith, even by faith alone : the righteousness of Christ was imputed to man, and on this platform he reached a new and inherent righteousness which worked itself out in charity.” The need of divine grace, and the need of a holy life, were thus combined — and this twofold justi¬ fication became the definition of the mediating Catholics. Eck, although he finally signed the definition, and Luther, who was consulted, thought it utterly bad. But the view of Luther was different from that of Melanchthon. Melanchthon had indeed shaped the definition, and he was satisfied with the superior place given to faith over merit. But Luther had by this time become hopeless of unity, and indeed was convinced that the Pope was Antichrist. The Legate Contarini represented the reforming Italian school, and he, too, had long been a supporter of justi¬ fication by faith ; his own views have been variously interpreted but might be reconciled with those of Aquinas. The new definition was, he thought, capable of a Catholic interpretation, and indeed, like most de¬ finitions, much depended upon the prepossessions of those who examined it. The Consistory at Rome, however, was not satisfied as easily as Contarini, and the compromise was rejected. At the Council of Trent (Sixth Session, January 1547) the same doctrine Avas defined in a decree which Harnack calls “ a product of art, remarkably well constructed,” and which, had it been formulated earlier, might have prevented the divisions of the Reformation. This decree was shaped largely by the influence of the Jesuits, Laynez and Salmcron ; against them Seripando, General of the Augustinian friars, agreed almost alone Avith the Regens¬ burg definition. He represented the Augustinian revival in Germany, Avhich had changed the friars of that order, and Avas really based upon the study of their patron saint. But he found few folloAvers at Trent, Avhere there were many theologians more concerned Avith the approval of CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 193 what existed and the condemnation of heresies than with the prospects of peace. No sketch, however, of Reforma¬ tion doctrine — needed as it is for Reformation history — is adequate if it overlooks the work of the “ mediating theologians.” Their historical significance was great even if their effectiveness was small. But until they had made their attempt and failed, it cannot be said that the issues of the Reformation were clear. Men of their day, at any rate these theologians themselves, were not sure that reforming doctrines, even those upon justifica¬ tion, must lead to a lasting division or would justify its rightfulness. Here again we can only judge truly if we take our stand late on in the century. If the external history of the Lutherans, and the general sweep of Reformation history suffer from the neglect of the events and tendencies just noticed, it is also true that the internal history suffers likewise. Zwinglians, looking back to a leader who represented the Renaissance and rationalism; Calvinists, sprung from the French Biblical movement, and the influence of a great systematic theo¬ logian; and Lutherans, were discordant. The Lutherans always asserted that they had made no break with Catholic doctrine : the attempt to prove this coloured the Confession of Augsburg — the first draft of which was called an Apology, and which Luther spoke of by that name. The object was to make the new departure in doctrine seem as slight as possible. The Zwinglians, upon the other hand, were not disturbed by accusations of a new departure, and the Calvinists — the growing body — relied more on theological system and the Bible than upon the consent of the past. The Augsburg Confession ex¬ cluded the Zwinglians, and sacramental doctrine * threat¬ ened permanently to divide the new bodies among them¬ selves. The Wittenberg Concord (1535) was a sign of growing unity; the followers of the Augsburg Confession and the ministers in the Oberland under Bucer (who was restless unless he was engaged in diplomacy) drew together, and the process went on. From the side of the State o 194 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES the Augsburg and Leipzig Interims — provisional arrange¬ ments of a kind both in worship and doctrine which it was hoped all might accept — had the same intention. The real strength of Melanchthon, too, lay in what is so often held his weakness — namely, his readiness to seek peace and ensue it. There had been (as Humbert points out in his Les Origines de la Thgologie Moderne, just lately placed upon the Index) from the first a difference between him and Luther : he had been an admirer of St. Jerome rather than of St. Augustine, at heart a follower of Erasmus (or at any rate of his own kinsman Reuchlin) as much as of Luther. The debate on the Adiaphora was one that would hardly have suggested itself to Luther, and he would never in his later years have been ready with Melanchthon to accept a limited papal supremacy. The Formula of Con¬ cord (1577) was not in itself an ending of strife, for if it bound together many, it shut out all others, and bitter con¬ troversies also arose as to its meaning. But it was the end of a long process, during which tendencies towards union and towards distinction had become less confused. After its appearance it was possible to tell more exactly what Lutheranism stood for, and where it stood. The history which begins with Luther’s 95 Theses is only consistent and complete if it is carried up to the Formula of Concord. For that sums up the history of Lutheran¬ ism, and it further expresses the fact that Calvinism, “ the Reformed ” religion, stood over against it. There was, as Lord Acton pointed out, this difference between them : 44 Lutheranism was governed, not by the spiritual but by the temporal power in agreement with the high conception of the State which Luther derived from the long conflict of the Middle Ages.” This gave it a hold upon Germany where the civil power was strong, and the States were many. But 44 by its lack of independence and flexibility it was unfitted to succeed where governments were hostile, or to make its way by voluntary effort.” Politicians utilised and controlled the Reformation move¬ ment in Germany much as they tried to do in England, CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 195 until the school of Laud on the one hand and the Puritans on the other proved too strong. Then Calvinism, strong in organisation where Lutheranism was weak, arose, and, with the spread of Calvinism in the second half of the sixteenth century, the Reformation took its final course. But the final shape of the Reformation was moulded as much from the papal side as from the other. Looking at the Papacy solely from the historic side, it represents a purely Western growth. It comes forth from the dim background of early Church organisation as the heir of Imperial traditions, and as a centre of unity for the barbarian conquerors. After the fall of the Empire in the West there comes the long reign of Feudalism — a time in which the Teutonic peoples partly preserved, partly recovered, the spiritual and intellectual heritage of the ancient world. The feudal society as it grew was a framework to protect the ideas of the past; in law and in politics the principles of Roman Law and of Imperialism were thus kept or recovered. There has been in England, since Bryce on the one hand first taught us the per¬ manence of the Empire, and his friend Freeman first taught us on the other hand not to blush for our Teutonic fore¬ fathers, a tendency to keep the Roman and the Teutonic elements apart from each other in our minds. But the days of feudalism were the days in which under the solvent power of the atmosphere they were welded together. The same process was needed, the same process went on, in the Church. We are a little apt to smile at the records of wholesale conversions, whole tribes, whole nations, bending themselves before the Cross, not always with a clear conviction of what it meant or what they did. But what happened at any rate was this, that they placed themselves under Christianity as a system, as a tutor from whom they were to learn. The centuries that follow from the sixth to the eleventh are those in which their Teutonic ideas and the teaching of Christianity are qeing welded together. There were dangers in the 196 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES process ; the kings, who sometimes like Chlodwig patron¬ ised Christianity, sometimes like Henry III of Germany were devoted to Christianity, were apt to use this great influence for their political or personal ends. There was a danger of the “ Germanisation ” of Christianity — a danger, that is, of the Germanic States and nobility using its in¬ fluence for their own secular ends. This was the meaning of the secularising and worldly influences which threatened to transform the Church in the tenth century. In the eleventh century came the reaction ; it took the form of a campaign against simony and lay influence — culminating in the struggle upon Investitures : it was an assertion of primitive principles of Church organisation, of the Church’s right to self-government, and in a feudal age it took the form of a feudal organisation, although it was able to appeal to primitive precedents of varying value. This was what lay behind the Papacy of Gregory VII ; it set up a feudal form of authority in the Church but it was an expression in feudal language of permanent principles. Here we have the feudal stage of Western Christianity; and just as feudalism preserved in politics principles that were of first-rate importance which without feudalism might have been forgotten, so the feudal stage of Western Christianity preserved for the world the principles of spiritual freedom and Christian unity which without their assertion in a feudalised form might have been completely lost. This is what the mediaeval Papacy had stood for, with many exaggerations and many mistakes ; but what was to happen when the feudal period passed away ? Not all critics of the Papacy and of the abuses which clustered round it had demanded the abolition of the Papacy, or had seen in its destruction an essential of re¬ form. Even Wyclif in his final criticisms of the Papacy, although he held its workings Antichristian, would have preferred a local headship for the Church, although not of necessity fixed at Rome — since there was no reason for the choice of that special seat. But the holder of this headship must be a spiritually minded man, a sue- CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 197 cessor of St. Peter in life and character. This conception of the Papacy was something like that put forth in the days of the Councils, with their talk of reformation in head and members alike. At Constance, where the forces of Nationalism met the discredited upholders of a divided Papacy, the three theories of a Papacy governed by the Imperial power, of a Papacy really governing the Church, and of a limited Papacy administering with a council, all found supporters. The result of the Councils was small whether in curbing the Papacy or in furthering reform, but programmes had been laid down. There was thus a fluctuating mass of fluid opinion which might easily crystallise under changed conditions of atmosphere. At the outset of the Reformation the Papacy scarcely took its religious position seriously; political interests, especially those concerned with Italy, outweighed religions. The short Papacy of Adrian VI was, however, a prophecy of what might happen, and there was a gradual deepening of religious interest at the papal court as the century went on. Into the history of that deepening it is not necessary to enter, but the result was that by the reign of Paul IV the moral tone of the Papacy was raised, and although the Curia was still led by political considerations and still jealous of its power, there was a real wish to reform abuses. But at the same time in matters of doctrine and worship the Curia moved on the whole away from the mediating party. At the courts of the Empire and of France there was, however, a readiness for some approach to the discontented ; the concession of the Chalice to the laity, of clerical marriage, and of the Mass in the vulgar tongue were put forward as making towards peace. Even at the third assembly of the Council of Trent these proposals were in the air, and this fact is only one of many showing a state of opinion less fixed or sharply divided than we might suppose. The cleavage of opinion was not complete or final until after the Council of Trent. That not only determined doctrine in a sense hostile to the Reformation, but it left the authority of the Papacy 198 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES stronger than before. The Pope had asserted his mastery over the Council ; upon points where his power was con¬ cerned decision had been avoided, and many difficult matters were left to him for discussion. The help of the new Jesuit body had done great things, and the process by which the Papacy had drawn to itself the powers of the Episcopate was quickened. From the Council of Trent to the Council of the Vatican in 1870 was a step easy to take in logic even if not necessary in doctrine. This was the final answer of the Roman Church to the new age ; a reassertion in an enlarged form of that feudal conception the mediaeval Papacy. The reassertion brought along with it antagonism to the new force of individualism ; this was henceforth to be combated and not controlled, to be suppressed rather than utilised. Another battle which was really fought out at Trent, although nominally left drawn, was that between the Epis¬ copate and the Papacy. The Spanish bishops especially had wished to put on record the Episcopal claim, and with the help of others from time to time, they had shown some independence. But at Trent a further step was taken along that path by which the Papacy, in great matters of state and in smaller things like indulgences, was drawing to itself the powers of the Episcopate with its primitive claims and its national or local sympathies. There was a flicker of the old flame (1763) in the incident of Febronius (which the Danish historian Nielsen has so well described) and in the Punctation of Ems ; in later days, and even at the Council of the Vatican in 1870, there were murmurs of the same storm, which like other storms has now made its journey across the Atlantic. The two chief stumbling-blocks of the Papacy to-day are the treatment of the national Episcopates under its obedience and of individualism. Now and again there are difficulties such as have arisen of late in France, where an Episcopate, less fettered and more independent, might have been of more service to Church and State. Now and again there have been, above all in the spheres of criticism, of social movements CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 199 and of politics, cases in which the Papacy has shown its old dread of individualism. The problems of reconciling local liberty and central unity, corporate life and in¬ dividual freedom, are by no means new. The Papal solution reached in the sixteenth century and put on record at Trent, was the suppression so far as was possible of one element in each case ; since then the repetition of the same formula whether by Pope or by Council has possibly made for strength but at the cost of freedom. But the full meaning of these decisions is not seen if the Counter-Reformation be viewed simply as a reaction against the Reformation : it was rather a manifestation within the Church of that new life and vigour which had begun to stir in the Middle Ages, and which outside the Church or in opposition to it had resulted in the Protestant movement. After Trent the Roman Church had a higher ideal and greater efficiency, and the success of the Counter- Reformation was partly a sign of the inherent strength of the Papacy, partly a sign of the new vigour of religious life. To judge of the movement as a whole we have to take the sixteenth century into one broad view, and it is only when we reach its last quarter that we are conscious of the change in atmosphere, and can feel the power of forces which had begun their work more than a century before. This is the significance of the rise of the Jesuits. Here again we have to trace a growth rather than search for a sudden creation. The creative energy of Loyola was no doubt great, but the inner history of his society reveals perhaps as much the skill of his successor Laynez as it does the conception of the founder; the one, however, is often passed over, while the other is possibly exaggerated. This is inevitable if we limit ourselves too closely to the earlier years of the century. Once more the importance of its later years is borne upon us. There are few histories more fascinating than that of the great society which reconquered so much of the world for the Papacy, and almost conquered the Papacy itself. With wonderful skill it trained and disciplined individuals to 200 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES be at the disposal of an impersonal system; it seized the benefits and it escaped the risks of the new force which had begun to change the world. In one sense it was an adaptation of what was new, of individualism and of the new educational .theories of the Renaissance ; in another sense the society itself was formed on the lines of the past and was an outcome of the older world. If we wish, then, to understand the sixteenth century it must even in this case be looked at more as a whole ; it must be looked at more as moulded and inspired by the age before it. In the case of England we have come, thanks to many teachers, to see in the reign of Elizabeth the years of settlement, the time when the religious forces have taken their final form, and chosen their true directions. The historical problem is not, of course, solved when those are seen, but its conditions and nature can be known. The Reformation becomes for us a process, and not a crisis : a stage in the gradual growth of man, neither an interruption as some would have it, nor a new creation as others would call it. This is the historical view of the Reformation for which we must plead. When we take it as a study in origins, as a study in forces and movements, we escape something of the bitterness, even if we lose something of the certainty, which is bound up with parties, and the names of leaders. We cannot, if we take this view, agree with the judgment of the great master Harnack — that the history of doctrine ends with Luther. We can judge more calmly what it was he stood for, and we can realise what has been sometimes gained, sometimes lost, since he made himself the symbol of the individual conscience, the symbol of a nation’s cause. We think we can see what he saw so clearly, and that we can also see things that he overlooked. To do this makes for calmness, and it makes for growth. To gain these it is not needful to lessen in any way the greatness of the Reformation, to over-estimate or to under¬ estimate the gains that it made and the risks that it ran. CONTINUITY THROUGHOUT REFORMATION 201 But as we study the forces that shaped it, and see the incidents, sometimes the accidents, above all the never- ceasing influences of politics, that forced or that blocked its path, we must ask ourselves if its absolute finality is not sometimes asserted too emphatically. It was the out¬ come of the Middle Ages ; it was the beginning of systems under which we live. But there are signs that mediaeval views of life, formerly shut out too hastily, have a charm for us to-day, and may have a real power for the men of to-morrow. St. Francis has begun to live for us again, when the merchants who elbowed him aside are leaving something more of life to the common man : we under¬ stand the mediaeval love for the corporate life although we can never forget the Reformation’s lesson of individual power. In the history of Christianity the obvious has a way of disappearing, assumptions change their dress, and opposites merge themselves in a larger truth. To foretell the future is happily impossible, but to know truly and see fully the past with all its forces and all its life, is to be ready for any future that God in His mercy may send us. It may be the fortune of that future to place together principles of life, fragments of truth, which the actors in the Reformation thought it impossible to join, which even to us seem far apart. The process of history is the working of God. ESSAY VII THE AUTHORITY OF JESUS CHRIST IN EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE Riifv. Prof. H. H. Scullard, M.A., D.D. SYNOPSIS The Lordship of Jesus Christ the central fact in Christianity — How conceived in the New Testament — Purpose of the essay to show how far that authority was confessed, interpreted, or obscured by Church writers in the second century — The testimony of Eastern writers. I. J ewish Christian. The Didache. “ Want of interest in our Lord’s humanity ” — The authority of the prophet — The deepest appeal to conscience wanting. The Odes of Solomon. Mystical devotion to an incarnate Lord — Yet the name of Jesus never mentioned. The Clementine Recognitions. The eternal Christ — The atonement ignored — Jesus as prophet — Function of reason — Authority of tradition. II. Syrian. Ignatius. Pauline and un-Pauline elements — Meaning of Christian discipleship — The Sacraments and the Church — The authority of the bishop — Interim legislation — The work of the Holy Spirit. Theophilus. Confused view of inspiration — Defective notions concern¬ ing the Holy Spirit — No reference to the Incarnation and work of Jesus Christ. III. Greece and Asia Minor. The Athenian Apologists. Quadratus. “ The father of the historical method in Christian evidences.” Aristides. Authority of Jesus Christ attested by “ the holy gospel writing ” and the lives of Christians. Epistle to Diognetus. The Deity of Christ and His atoning work emphasised, but not His humanity. Athenagoras. Crude theological statements — Mechan¬ ical views of inspiration — The Gospel facts ignored — Teaching of the Logos not confined to the Scriptures. The Corinthian writers. Dionysius — Second Epistle of Clement. Papias. Traditionalist and literalist. Polycarp. Does not claim apostolic authority — No reference to the Holy Spirit — Testimony to the facts of the Gospel — The words and example and truth of the Lord — Authority of Christ rested upon His Person and Work — No mention of bishops. Melito. Deity and humanity of Christ confessed, but the appeal of the Incarnation not sufficiently ethical. Justin Martyr. Authority of Jesus Christ as Teacher — The Word — The final Law — Reference to the earthly life of Jesus — Influence of Greek thought — Contrasted with his disciple Tatian. IV. Alexandria. Epistle of Barnabas. The Deity of Jesus Christ, and His atonement central — Humanity of Jesus not clearly taught — The teaching of the Lord in the Church — Gnosis and faith. Epistle to Diognetus. The Word still teaches men — The true knowledge witnessed to by life. Clement. The Word revealed (a) in heathen literature ; (6) in Scripture ; (c) in the Church ; Clement’s view of the Church and ministry ; (d) in the-individual Christian. The Word recognised by faith — Was Clement a rationalist or pragmatist? — The justification of obedience — The evangelical appeal — Defects in Cle¬ ment’s teaching — Gnosticism and Montanism — “Nothing visible is eternal.” THE AUTHORITY OF JESUS CHRIST IN EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE It is the object of this essay not so much to discuss the important question of our Lord’s authority in early Christian writings, as to allow the writers to speak for them¬ selves, and to suggest some points of view from which the evidence may be regarded. In order to do this, it will be necessary to leave unsaid many things, which possibly the reader will think ought to have been added, and which certainly the writer would have been disposed to say, if it had been his purpose either to adopt a position or to meet an objector. The chief aim, then, will be to pass in review the testimonies of various second-century writers to the authority of Jesus Christ, in order to indicate as far as may be possible the ways in which that authority was confessed, interpreted, or obscured. To do this at all fairly within the limits of this essay, it has seemed necessary to make a selection, and we shall confine attention to the various Eastern groups. It is interesting to see what contribution or contributions were made by the East to this subject, though for a full discussion of the problems raised the extremely important witness of Clement of Rome, Irenaeus and Tertullian, among others, would be essential. Ter- tullian, in particular, is specially interesting as furnishing in himself an epitome of second-century modes of thought. Almost all tendencies meet in him. His own impressionable and versatile mind enabled him to reflect, though not to harmonise, conflicting points of view. Those who plead the authority of nature and those who look upon its dictates with cynical contempt may find something to support their positions in Tertullian’s works. Those who disparage 205 206 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES reason and philosophy will find an ally in him, but so also will those who deny that sin has quenched the light of reason and that Stoicism contained no fragments of the truth. Those who attach great weight to the authority of tradition will find a stalwart champion of their views in Tertullian, but so also will those who believe that one good custom may corrupt the world. No one did more in his day to support the authority of the Church, so that his uncritical disciple Cyprian, concentrating attention only on one side of his teaching, was delighted to call him 44 Master ” ; but no man more successfully undermined the ground upon which the disciple took his stand. Materialist and spiritualist, Catholic and Montanist, rationalist and simple believer, sticklers for precedent and bold adventur¬ ous spirits, legalists and 44 new prophets,” may all adorn their arguments with pithy quotations from the writings of the fiery Carthaginian. But it is hardly possible to do justice to the Eastern writers if we include within these narrow limits a survey also of the West.1 Most readers of the New Testament will, I think, agree that the essence of Christianity in the first age consisted, according to its exponents, in a sincere, intelligent and practical acknowledgment of the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Nothing appears to have impressed the hearers of Jesus more than the authority with which He spoke and acted ; and both in the Synoptic Gospels and in the fourth Gospel Jesus' is represented as laying claim to authority of a most remarkable and absolute character. That authority was felt from the first, and was due to the indefinable influence of the divinely-human personality of Jesus; but it pro¬ duced a sufficiently intelligent and established conviction only through the facts of the Gospel and the illumination of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit was promised by Jesus, according to the fourth Gospel, as an abiding possession to lead all Christians into the truth, and to make His presence and authority a constant, living and operative 1 I am the more disposed to select the East as I have incidentally dealt with Western opinion in Christian Ethics in the West. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 207 fact.1 The Acts of the Apostles shows us how perfectly that promise was fulfilled ; the Holy Spirit not simply in¬ dicating in general how the Christian’s life might be ruled by the principles of Jesus, but also giving specific guidance to individuals and communities with a view to particular emergencies. In the Epistles we have the grounds of the authority of Jesus Christ over the conscience still more fully revealed, the chief stress being laid upon the death and resurrection of Jesus as introducing the Christian into a new relation to God in which every thought is to be brought into captivity to the obedience of Jesus Christ, and, paradoxical as it may sound, perfect freedom secured. This life in the Spirit is the Christian life. There is no such thing as law in the sense of external or legal restraint. The “ immediacy and independence of the religious life,” to use Weinel’s expression, was secured through 4 4 strict subjection ” to the authority of Jesus. Every Christian was made to participate in the same spirit, and every Christian was answerable to Jesus Christ alone. The rise of the Christian Churches as external institutions or groups of institutions threatened to alter the whole char¬ acter of Christian obedience, and though some place the beginnings of this transformation within the apostolic period, the Gospel which the Apostle Paul and others preached supplied the corrective.2 The authority even of an apostle was conditioned by the testimony of the Spirit to the individual and to the society. The collective action of a church possessed only so much authority as the manifest presence of Christ or the consentient witness of the Spirit gave it. Even in the case of the establishment of the Corinthian tribunal we need not resort to the explana¬ tion of Clement of Alexandria to meet the argument of the legalist.3 It was an appeal to conscience through the 1 (C For the whole Christian society,” Swete, The Holy Spirit in the New Testament , p 315 ; not merely for the successors of the apostles, whether in the sense of Irenaeus or of Clement of Alexandria. 2 Sohm seems to me to represent the New Testament position more accurately than Harnack. 3 Strom, vii. 14. 208 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Holy Spirit rather than the exercise of an external and social restraint. There can be no element of legality in the decisions of the Spirit of God, even though they find expres¬ sion through the corporate life of an external society, for that Spirit takes of the things of Christ and reveals them to the believer. The relation is always one of grace and of faith. The constraint of Christ is the only perfectly human, moral and rational interference with the decisions of a man’s own conscience, because the man knows in the moment of acting that the constraint enables him to express the nature which is most truly his own. We need constantly to remember the kind of authority exercised by Jesus Christ, if we are to keep clear of the physical, mechanical and heathen notions which so soon invaded the Churches. Even Aristotle and Plato are of little service here, and Dr. Illingworth’s interesting attempt to interpret the Divine authority in terms of Greek philo¬ sophy appears to the present writer a serious misinterpre¬ tation, both of the Old Testament and New Testament ideas of transcendence.1 It would be very strange if Plato, who never raised the question of the Divine personality, and Aristotle, whose discussions are so largely on the naturalist plane, were to prove trustworthy guides in the interpretation of the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. The whole question of 44 delegated ” authority is too controversial to be discussed in a few words. But what¬ ever may be meant by it, and if it can in any sense be considered a New Testament idea, the nature of that authority, of its expression and transmission must surely be made to harmonise with what is known regarding the authority of the Lord. The authority of Jesus was not the authority of the scribe ; it was not the authority of the great ones of the earth; still less was it the authority of mere physical force. It was the appeal of truth to the conscience, of the perfect, i. e. divine, personality to the imperfect ; of the perfectly human to the imperfectly human ; of the grace of the Lord to the trust and love and 1 Divine Transcendence , p. 166, EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 209 gratitude and honour of the servant. To suppose that that authority can be 44 delegated ” to, and transmitted through men of immoral lives and ungracious spirit appears to reduce Christianity not simply to an immoral but an irrational religion, and the present writer at least can find no trace of any such teaching in the New Testament. It is only those in whom God is pleased to reveal His Son who can in any way express and interpret the mysteries of the Divine Grace, or truly fulfil the office of minister, whether of bishop, priest or deacon, or any other office which depends upon the endowment of the Spirit. No man can act with the authority of Christ unless he is possessed with the Spirit of Christ. It is not by the episcopate that 44 God’s authoritative hold upon the world through Christ ” has been made possible or actual,1 but by the Spirit who has distributed to every man severally as He will. This at least is what I find in the New Testament. And it is simply stated here by way of introduction to the facts and testi¬ monies which follow. Only one word more of preface perhaps is necessary. It is not from the literature alone that a conviction of the reality of Christ’s authority over the men of the second century is to be gained. The testimony of the life was sometimes better than the testimony of the lips. Not every one that saith, Lord, Lord, but he that doeth the will of the Father is the true Christian. Judged by that test the influence of Jesus Christ over the lives of men was considerable, and I am in hearty agreement with those who, like Mr. Edghill in his recent little book on the second century, delight to point out the many bright features in the life of the Christian communities.'2 My own opinion is that we make a great mistake if we judge any age solely by its literary men, or even by its ecclesiastical leaders. I. Jewish Christianity. The dialogue between Jason and Papiscus contained the definite statement that Jesus is the Son of God and the 1 Illingworth, p. 103. Yet contrast p. 52. 2 The Spirit of Power. P 210 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES creator of the world, and if written by Aristo of Pella may claim to have been the purest specimen of Jewish-Christian literature, but in the absence of the treatise we must turn to other works, which may be called in a more general sense Jewish-Christian. The Didache. According to a widely-accepted theory the Didache was an adaptation of a Jewish manual, and there seems no good reason to doubt that it is one of the earliest of non-canonical Christian books. Dr. Bigg, who held a singular theory with regard to its date, doubted also its genuinely Christian character ; that is to say, it seemed to him doubtful whether it could pass the simple test which the Apostle John wished to be applied to the spirits — the confession that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh. The divinity of our Lord was in some sense acknowledged, but the substitution of “ Hosanna to the God of David ” for “ Hosanna to the son of David ” seemed to him to show a want of interest in our Lord’s humanity.1 This “ want of interest in our Lord’s humanity ” meets us again and again in the literature of the second century, and it is in a sense natural to find it in those quarters where the opposition to Judaism as such was keenest. To many, however, it will no doubt seem better to interpret the expressions “ Jesus Christ ” and “ Thy servant Jesus ” 2 as involving the humanity as well as in some sense the divinity of our Lord. But in the absence of clearer evidence we should perhaps be right in concluding that the Lordship of Jesus Christ was made to rest upon His divinity, and that the humanity was not regarded as con¬ tributing anything essential to His authority over the hearts and consciences of men. But the Lordship, however interpreted, was central in the writer’s view of religion, and he by whom the Lordship was spoken of was deserving of special honour and remem¬ brance, for within him was the Lord Himself.3 The 1 The Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles, pp. 67, 65. 2 E. g. ix. 4, x. 1. 3 iv. 1. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 211 indwelling of the Lord gave to the prophet peculiar import¬ ance. He was the high-priest of the Christian community, and to disobey him was the unpardonable sin.1 Yet the Didache is far from giving to the prophet an absolute authority. The responsibility of deciding between the spirits is still left to the hearers. Not all those who speak in the spirit are true prophets, but those only who have 44 the manners of the Lord.” 2 It is only when a man has applied certain moral and spiritual tests and found that the speaker fulfils them, that he is required to give un¬ hesitating obedience. And is this necessarily anything more than that yielding to the clearly revealed will of God which every Christian believes to be right ? At any rate blind obedience to a merely professional prophet is far enough from the writer’s thought. But though it may not be fair to regard the prophet’s claims as violating either the authority of the Lord or the rights of the individual conscience, the Didache does appear to be open to another kind of objection. When we remember that it is a manual for Christian people, and that we have a detailed account of the Lord’s Supper and references to other acts of Christian worship, we cannot overlook the fact that there is no mention of the remission of sins through the death of Christ. The deepest appeal to the Christian conscience is left out. One wonders whether any of the twelve Apostles, e. g. Peter or John, would have allowed their names to be associated with a work of this kind, or whether they would even have recognised its Christian character. The Odes of Solomon. Important questions with respect to this recently dis¬ covered work are still under discussion, but we may follow Dr. Rendel Harris in regarding it as in some sense Jewish- Christian. In an able article in the Church Quarterly 3 Dr. Headlam speaks of it as “ not unorthodox,” but main¬ tains that 4 4 it cannot be made to support any orthodox 1 xiii. 3, xi. 7. 2 xi. 8. 3 January 1911. P 2 212 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES doctrine.” 44 It represents religious experience and devotion, not history, or controversy, or theology.” It is on this account extremely interesting as a spontaneous witness to the authority of Christ over the heart and conscience. The writer has no theory to maintain or philosophy to advocate. It may be true that for him “ the Incarnate Messiah is still the maker and sustainer of all things,” 1 but his interest in the fact is devotional rather than speculative. He is filled with feelings of adoration and thanksgiving and joyous confidence, because One who was divine became like himself in order that he 44 might put Him on,” and 44 learn Him,” and persevere in following Him.2 At the vision of this divinely-human Saviour all fear had vanished. The divine gentleness had brought salvation within his reach. Though it was only in vision that this Christian mystic had seen his Lord, he had plainly overcome any aversion he felt to the idea of the Incarnation. Opinions may differ as to how far the idea of the Incarnation was associated in the mind of the seer with the actual historical advent of Jesus, and some connection seems to be implied. Yet the name of Jesus is never used. 44 To have used the name of Jesus would have been contrary to all the conventions.” 3 That may be so ; but still the significant fact remains, that under the influence of conventions, Jewish or Gnostic, literary or social, the name was suppressed. The writer lived in a very different world from that of the Apostles, to whom the name Jesus was the name above every name, and which they would never have suppressed at the bidding of any convention. The Clementine Recognitions. The heterogeneous character of the Christian interpola¬ tions in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs , and the uncertainty of the dates, must be the excuse for omitting them here.4 But the Clementine literature is so extensive 1 Harris, Odes of Solomon, p. 99. 2 Ode 7. 3 Headlam, op. cit. 4 Hegesippus too might be added, but our knowledge of him is small. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 213 and important that some reference should be made to it. It cannot indeed be said either of the Recognitions or Homilies that in their present form they belong to the second century. But they originated in the second century and represent in some degree phases of second-century thought, especially in the East. The Recognitions are selected as being much nearer to the main lines of ecclesi¬ astical development than the Homilies. In the latter Judaism is hardly distinguishable from Christianity, and Jesus is simply the last incarnation of the true Prophet; but in the Recognitions we find a much more exalted con¬ ception of the Person and work of our Lord.1 It has, indeed, been maintained recently that even in the Recog¬ nitions the difference between Judaism and Christianity is to be found simply in the acceptance of Jesus as a prophet.2 But what the Clementine writer says is that the only point on which believers in Jesus and the unbelieving Jews seem to differ, is as to “ whether He were the prophet whom Moses foretold, who is the eternal Christ.” 3 Jesus, then, is the eternal Christ, and no mere prophet. He is the One who knows all hearts, and who alone is able to declare the mysteries of God.4 But He is more than that. He is to be honoured as the Son, who alone knows God and His will. He is Law and Lawgiver, the righteous Judge, and Lord of all.5 In one very notable respect, however, the writer does fall far short of the apostolic position. 44 Of anything like an atonement,” said Dr. Hort, 44 there is not the faintest trace.” 6 Baptism seems to take the place of sacrifice, and the Cross is ignored.7 Jesus came down from heaven, it is true, that men might believe in Him and be saved through Him, and it was the peculiar gift bestowed upon the Gentiles that they should love Jesus just as it was given to the Jews to believe Moses. But it was by revealing to men a perfect medicine for body and soul that the 1 Salmon, D.C.B.I. p. 574. 2 Hall, Hist, of Ethics within Organised Christianity , p. 140. 3 i. 43. 4 i. 16, v. 2, 8, 10, ix. 1. 6 x. 47. 6 Clementine Recognitions, p. 139. 7 Cf. Salmon, as above. 214 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES salvation was effected : 1 and this is very far from the New Testament idea of atonement. Though Christ, then, was regarded as something more than a prophet, it was His prophetic work that appealed to the writer, and concerning this he spoke both with truth and eloquence. The knowledge of divine things depends upon moral and spiritual conditions. Covetousness and evils of other kinds have filled the house of the world with smoke, so that men cannot see God and recognise His will. But if they earnestly cry to Him for help, He will open the door of the house, and the smoke will be dispersed.2 The search for the truth is not hopeless. God has not buried it deep in the earth, and heaped the mountains upon it, so that those only who are able to dig into the depths can find it. He has simply veiled it with the curtain of His love, that he alone may reach it who has first knocked at the gate of divine love.3 The True Prophet will both dissipate the smoke and enlighten the souls of men. For He is within the mind of each of us. In the case of those, however, who have no desire for the knowledge of God and His righteous¬ ness He is inoperative, kindling the light of knowledge in those only who seek after what is profitable to their souls.4 The knowledge imparted by the Prophet is not only reliable but sufficient. He has delivered to us the informa¬ tion, which He judged to be sufficient; and if men would only be content with His teaching, useless speculation would be avoided and 44 all this forest of words cut down.” 5 The writer does not, however, advocate an unreasoning accept¬ ance of the authority of the Prophet, though to receive 44 another teacher than Christ ” is sin. A man must still use his own reason and judgment. It is not safe to commit the heavenly truth to bare faith without reason, and the more anxious a man is in requiring a reason, the 1 iv. 5, x. 70. 2 i. 15. 3 iii. 58. Here and in many other instances I follow pretty closely the renderings in the Ante-Nicene Library (T. & T. Clark). 4 viii. 59. 6 x. 14, i. 25. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 215 firmer and more enduring will be his faith.1 Elsewhere he says that, as the friends of God, men were not only to acquiesce in His will, but also to judge for themselves what is right.” 2 It seems hardly fair to say regarding this teaching that “ all sense of moral relativity is thus lost, and all moral independence is undermined.” 3 The undermining may, however, take place in another way. The authority of the true Prophet who resides in every man may be eminently reasonable; but some other authority may interfere with the action of Him who alone can open the eyes of the understanding. Tradition, instead of being merely a guide, may become a gaoler. Scripture, instead of being allowed to witness for itself, may be sub¬ jected to authorised interpretations, and even transformed into a rule. The bishop, instead of being simply a pastor or instructor, may become an authority. All these things no doubt were happening in the world to which the Clemen¬ tine writer belonged. So we read that no teacher must be believed, unless he brings from Jerusalem the testimonial of James the Lord’s brother, or of any one who may come after him.4 One ought to learn the meaning of Scripture from him who keeps it according to the truth handed down to him from his fathers, so that he can authoritatively declare what he has received. Rut when one has received the entire and firm rule of faith from the Scriptures then he may apply himself to liberal studies.5 Scripture supplies the rule of faith, but the bishop must interpret it. Bishop Zacchseus is to be honoured as holding the place of Christ, and the doctrine of faith is to be received from him.6 The legal mind of the Jews was not able to remain faithful to the conception of the true Prophet kindling within the minds of all who desire it the knowledge of heavenly mysteries and of earthly duties. An external authority must take the place of the voice of the Living Spirit. 2 iii. 71. See also v. 2 and viii. 60. 4 iv. 35. 6 x. 43. 6 iii. 66. 1 ii. 72. 3 Hall, p. 140. 216 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES II. Syrian. [gnatius. Ignatius, the most notable representative of Christianity in Syria, is regarded by Pfleiderer as belonging to the Pauline school; and that perhaps is the way in which Ignatius himself would like to have been regarded, for he expressed the wish that, when he had attained to God, he might be found at the feet of Paul.1 There can, indeed, be no doubt that the two had much in common. Ignatius possessed something of the great apostle’s devotion to Jesus Christ his Lord. Those who did not speak concerning Jesus Christ were but as the sepulchres of the dead, over which were written only the names of men.2 To become a disciple of Him who gave Himself an offering for us 3 was his one consuming passion. Jesus Christ is our inseparable life.4 To continue to live after the Jewish law is to acknowledge that we have not received grace.5 Jesus Christ was to him instead of everything ancient : His cross and death and resurrection and the faith which comes from Him were the undefiled monuments of antiquity.6 And many other resemblances might be noted. But Ignatius was no mere imitator. Though he did not profess to be some great person,7 and though he did not venture to issue orders as an apostle,8 he was a man of originality and force. He was certainly not the man to be bound by precedent, or to reproduce with exactness any man’s teaching. Bishop Westcott pointed out that there were 44 apparently only half as many references to Scripture in the shorter recension of the epistles as in the remains of Polycarp, though in bulk the former are perhaps ten times as great as the latter ” 9; and it is certainly noteworthy, considering his veneration for the apostle, that there should not be more than two or three undoubted quotations from the Pauline epistles. We have no reason, then, to be surprised if we find many 1 Eph. 12. 2 Philad. 6. 3 Eph. 1. 4 Eph. 3. 5 Magn. 8. 6 Philad. 8. 7 Eph. 3. 8 Trallians 3. 9 Introd. p. 420. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 217 departures from apostolic sentiment and teaching. Ignatius had neither the narrowness of the mere traditionalist, nor the well-balanced judgment of an apostle. The difference is apparent in so fundamental a matter as the meaning of Christian discipleship. The apostle looked back to the sacrifice of Christ as the explanation of his discipleship; Ignatius looked forward to his own sacrifice as the beginning of his.1 Paul knew that he had been already crucified with Christ ; Ignatius simply wished to be. In the one case self-will had been destroyed through a profound realisation of the meaning of the Saviour’s Cross ; in the other self-will was still seeking to destroy itself through the martyrdom of the body. And so, according to his own estimate of himself, Ignatius was neither truly a disciple nor truly a teacher. As Professor Ramsay says, “The teacher is the person or Church which has gone through most suffering, and thus shown true discipleship, and Ignatius distinguishes Ephesus and Rome as his teachers.” 2 This craving for martyrdom reveals a radical weakness in Ignatius’s apprehension of the Gospel, and a grave defect in his own Christian character. We wish we could explain it otherwise. But the facts seem to be against a more generous interpretation : 3 the whole tone of the letters is against it. We agree with the sentiment expressed by the Church of Smyrna in the earliest of the Martyria, “ We do not commend those who give themselves up, seeing the Gospel does not so teach. . . . For it is part of a true and well-grounded love not only to wish oneself to be saved, but also all the brethren.” 4 The same kind of discrepancy meets us in the teaching of Ignatius regarding the sacraments. No one who reads such words as these : “ Christ was born and baptised, that by His passion He might purify the water,” 5 or the de¬ scription of the bread of the Eucharist as “ the medicine 1 Eph. 1, Rom. 3, 4, 5. 2 Quoted by Spence Jones, Early Christians in Rome , p. 173. 3 E. q. Scott Holland, Apostolic Fathers, p. 118. 4 c. 1. 5 Eph. 18 218 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of immortality,” 1 will feel inclined to accuse Ignatius of slavish adherence to the letter of Scripture. But do such words retain the essential teaching of the New Testament ? Do they not rather add something which is quite alien to its teaching ? In the light of subsequent history it is easy to see how such statements might be used in the interests of non-moral and physical views of our Lord’s influence; but Ignatius was not the kind of man to stop and consider the probable results of his words on future generations. His view of the Church is open to the same objection. The writer of this essay has often tried to persuade himself that Ignatius wavered between the two conceptions of the Church mystical and the Church visible. That there was a mystical vein in Ignatius would perhaps be allowed, but it is not usual to suppose that it affected his doctrine of the Church. If then the Church of Ignatius is a visible insti¬ tution, one can only turn back to the epistles to the Hebrews and Ephesians, and marvel how soon the glowing vision was lost and the empirical substituted for the real. But we remember also that it was Ignatius himself who said “ Nothing visible is eternal.” 2 The tendency, however, to substitute the external for the internal, the sign for the thing signified, the physical for the spiritual was the besetting sin of Ignatius, and finds its crowning illustration in his view of the episcopate. When Ignatius lamented that his deserted Church at Antioch would soon have only Christ for its bishop,3 he expressed himself in a very unfortunate way. But there is too much of that unguarded and irreverent mode of speech. If we were to take some of his statements literally, we should conclude that in the opinion of Ignatius the bishop stood to the local Church in the same relation that Jesus Christ stood to the Catholic Church.4 As it is, one cannot help feeling that the authority of the Head of the Church and the Lord of each individual member was seriously endangered. 1 Eph. 20. 2 Rom. 3. 3 So “God for its Shepherd instead of me,” Rom. 9. 4 Smyrn. 8, etc. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 219 One would like to know what exactly Ignatius understood by the proclamation to which he felt himself prompted by the Spirit, 44 Do nothing without the bishop.” 1 Does it mean simply, nothing which related to public worship as “ to baptise or celebrate a love-feast ” ? 2 Or does it include all questions of private morals, and make the bishop a veritable father-confessor ? Or is it something between the two, and if so what ? Regarding marriage, which may be considered a test question, the approval of the bishop seems to be necessary “ that their marriage may be according to God and not after their own lust.” 3 The apostolic 44 in the Lord ” becomes equivalent to 44 with the consent of the bishop.” But again we can hardly credit Ignatius with such a usurpation or restriction of the Lord’s authority. We must allow much for his impulsive Syrian temper, and not take him too seriously. In the case of the martyr Church of Ephesus, at least, the rights of the individual and of the Christian community are not alto¬ gether overlooked. Indeed, what he says to the Ephesians is really fatal to any exaggerated notions of episcopal authority.4 But more characteristic still is the way in which Ignatius tells us he had come to see the necessity for a military type of Church government. There was no actual mutiny before the orders were given,5 but he must have had pretty strong presentiments of coming trouble. Insubordination was a great evil, and must be met by the establishment of a strong central authority in each local community of Christians. Believing that the end of all things was at hand,6 and urged on by his quick imaginative temperament, Ignatius very naturally preferred the sanctions of a visible order to the slower methods of the Spirit. Like so many other re¬ formers, he could not wait. The visible might not be the eternal ; but it was just the visible that seemed now to be needed as a temporary expedient to tide over the interval 1 Philad. 7. 2> Smyrn. 8. 3 Polyc. 5. 4 Especially Eph. 3 and 15. 5 Philad. 7. 6 Eph. 11. 220 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES before the coming of the Lord. The interim legislation which some, as it seems to me wrongly, find in the Gospels, is to be found here. It is Ignatius, and not Jesus of Naza¬ reth, who is the reformer, the opportunist, the advocate of temporary expedients and external sanctions. So firmly convinced was Ignatius of the necessity of his policy that notwithstanding all protestations of his unworthiness as a disciple and teacher, he adopts the role of a prophet. It was the Spirit who proclaimed to him these words : “ Do nothing without the bishop.” 1 The happy thought came to him with all the force of a divine revelation. There is no appeal to antiquity. There is no appeal to apostolic authority. The appeal is to a direct revelation vouchsafed to Ignatius himself. This claim of Ignatius to be the mouthpiece of the Spirit can hardly be discussed without a reference to first prin¬ ciples. Had he “ the manners of the Lord ” ? How is it to be harmonised with his emphatic disclaimer of authority? What is the bearing of this revelation, if authentic, on other forms of Church government then in existence and after¬ wards to be created ? If the claim of Ignatius to a divine communication is allowed, why not Tertullian’s, which in effect was the opposite ? These questions must be passed over. But there is one still more important question of fact which they suggest. Had Ignatius any practical belief in the work of the Holy Spirit in the Christian society ? Considering the occasion of the letters there is surprisingly little reference to the present work of the Holy Spirit. In three of the letters there is no explicit reference to the Spirit at all, and in the other four there is practically only one allusion to the teaching and guiding of the Spirit, and that is the communication given to Ignatius himself to “ do nothing without the bishop.” 2 The compiler of the longer recension seems to have noticed the meagre recog¬ nition given by Ignatius to this essential part of Christian 1 Philad. 7- 2 Eph. 9 and 18 ; Magn. 9, 13 and 15 ; Philad. Intro, and 7 ; Smyrn. Intro, and Conclus. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 221 doctrine ; and the most noticeable difference between the shorter and longer recensions is just in this particular. Not only is the number of allusions multiplied by four or five, but a much more adequate expression is given both to the practical and theoretical aspects of the subject. The compiler, to take a few out of the many additions, corrects the mistake of Ignatius in identifying the Holy Spirit with Christ ;4 he includes among the things which Ignatius says he knows a clause referring to the Spirit ; 2 he speaks of the true Christian being a disciple of the Holy Spirit ; 3 the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of truth ; 4 the brethren are under the guidance of the Comforter whose mission it is to speak of the things of Christ ; 6 he expresses the hope that the Holy Spirit will teach both himself and other Christians ; G he definitely ascribes the desire of Ignatius for martyrdom to the Spirit ; 7 other bishops also act with the co-operation of the Spirit.8 Theophilus of Antioch. Next but one to Ignatius in the Episcopal succession at Antioch was Theophilus, whose writings present a striking contrast to those of his predecessor, a contrast which cannot be fully explained by the differences in the audience addressed. In the fourth century Theophilus had the reputation of having been a champion of orthodoxy against Marcion and Hermogenes, and also a commentator on the Gospels. One would therefore infer that he was a well- informed and honoured representative of what was con¬ sidered true doctrine. Rut when we turn to the only book which has come down to us, a work of considerable length and merit, written to enlighten and persuade an unbeliever, we find nothing distinctly Christian in it. Whatever may have been the motive of Theophilus in attempting to defend Christianity without once mentioning the name of 1 Magn. 15. 2 Trallians 5. 3 Philad. 6. 4 Philad. 4. 6 Eph. 20. 6 Eph. 15. 7 Rom. 8. 8 Trallians 1. Other allusions, Eph. 4, 8, 9, 15, 21 ; Magn. 3, 9; Trallians Intro, and 6 ; Rom. Introd. ; Philad. 4, 5, 6, 7 ; Smyrn. Introd. and Conclus. 222 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Jesus Christ or referring to the Incarnation or sacrifice or resurrection of Jesus Christ, the fact of his silence remains. Here is a prominent bishop in the second century trying to commend Christianity to his heathen friend Autolycus by omitting all that is most characteristic of it. That phenomenon, whatever explanation may be given, is a very remarkable one, and presents a complete contrast to what we know of apostolic methods. We are reminded of the similar instance of a Western apologist who in the next century (some say in this) wrote a dialogue in which the merits of Christianity were discussed without reference to the characteristic facts of the Christian Gospel. But Minucius Felix was a man of letters, and not a bishop. It is quite conceivable that Christianity appeared to him simply in the light of a monotheistic religion of high and austere morality. But one would hesitate before coming to the conclusion that a well-known bishop of Antioch dismissed the fact of the Incarnation as non-essential or even subordinate. We are bound, however, in justice to let him speak for himself. It is the Christian or non- Christian character of his writings that concerns us here, not the character of his personal faith, whatever that may have been. One of the notable features in the teaching of Theophilus, in addition to his appreciation of some points of Christian morality, is found in his view of inspiration, which he con¬ nects with the holiness and righteousness of the prophet, in opposition to the ecstatic view of Athenagoras and the Montanists.1 But even on this subject his teaching is confused. The Hebrew prophets and the Sibyl were truly inspired, but when Homer and Hesiod spoke the truth they did not speak with a pure but an erring spirit.2 Poets and philosophers clearly taught men concerning righteous¬ ness and judgment and punishment, and also concerning God’s care for the living and the dead, for had not one of the Greek poets said, 44 The dead are pitied by a loving God ” ; yet they did so unwillingly and inspired by demons.3 1 Ad Autol. ii. 9. 2 ii. 8. 3 ii. 38. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 223 Theophilus had evidently not thought out the subject of inspiration very carefully. And, what strikes us as still more remarkable, he does not connect the work of the prophets with the advent of Jesus. The prophets were to be commended because they had said ten thousand things consistently and harmoniously, because they had spoken of the unity of God, the creation, the conflagration of the world, had enjoined holiness of life, and enunciated the Golden Rule in a negative form.1 But, so far as Theophilus informs his friend, they had not foretold the coming of Jesus. Can we imagine that if Theophilus himself had been led to Jesus Christ by the prophets he could have kept the good news so long from Autolycus ? 2 If from the general subject of inspiration we turn to the doctrine or work of the Holy Spirit, we find the same defects. Theologically, and judged by later standards, his view of the Person of the Spirit is erroneous, for he identified the Spirit of God with the Word.3 And with regard to the work of the Spirit, there is no recognition of the Holy Spirit as the Guide Jesus gave to His Church. Christians are taught by the Holy Spirit, but it is only mediately through the Old Testament prophets.4 So the work of Jesus Christ is not referred to. The Physician is God, who heals and makes alive by His word and wisdom, which hardly goes beyond pre-Christian teaching : 5 or sin is expiated by punishment : 6 or any one who keeps the law and holy commandments can be saved : 7 or sin is regarded, as it was later by Methodius, as a kind of physical substance which somehow drops out when the elements of the body are dissolved.8 The re¬ surrection of Jesus is not referred to, but Theophilus tells us he was converted to a belief in the resurrection by arguments from physical analogy and from the pre¬ dictions of the prophets.9 1 ii. 38. Is Tobit also among tlie prophets ! 2 We should remember that Theophilus gave his hearer three lessons. Minucius, after one discourse, hoped to continue his instruction. 3 ii. 10. 4 ii. 33 ; iii. 17. 5 i. 7. 6 ii. 26. 7 ii. 27. 8 Ibid. 9 i. 14. 224 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES It is quite in line with this general method of procedure that Theophilus, even when alluding, as he does three times, to passages in the Sermon on the Mount, avoids using the name of Jesus, and introduces his quotations quite impersonally — “ the voice of the Gospel teaches ” — “ the Gospel says ” — “ it says.” 1 So, too, when explain¬ ing the meaning of the word Christian, he does not say that Christians are the followers of Jesus Christ, but with a play upon the word, calls them 44 Euchrestoi,” service¬ able to God; or 44 anointed,” yet not as Jesus was, but as one might anoint a ship or a house or an ornament.2 Theophilus, however, does not hesitate at times to use ecclesiastical and theological language. There is a refer¬ ence to baptism, though not to specifically Christian baptism ; 3 and to the Logos ivdidQexog and nQocpoqixog ; 4 and to a saying from the fourth Gospel, which he quotes as from 44 one of the spirit-bearing men,” but without the Christian part of the passage, the doctrine that the Word became flesh.5 He even refers to an incarnation, but it is not to the Incarnation of God in Jesus Christ.6 So there is an allusion to a Trinity or Triad, of God, His Word, and His Wisdom ; 7 but it is unreal, for in one place the Word is identified with the Son and in another with Wisdom.8 And what is to be said of the remarkable statement that the Word assumed the person of the Father ? 9 Why should Theophilus go out of his way to make these theological and ecclesiastical allusions, crude and imperfect as they are, in discussing Christianity with a heathen, and leave out the essential truths of Christianity ? We could have understood it better if he had tried to meet the heathen on his own ground, as Minucius Felix more or less did. And the difficulty becomes all the greater if Autolycus is only an imaginary person. Whatever may be the cause, we are face to face with the remarkable fact that the first ecclesiastical writer 1 iii. 13, 14. 2 i. 1, i. 12 ; cf. iii. 4. 3 ii. 16. 4 ii. 10, ii. 22. 5 ii. 22. 6 Ibid., or at least theophany. 7 ii. 15. 8 ii. 22. 9 Ibid. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 225 who quotes from John’s Gospel by name, adopted a method of presenting Christianity the very opposite of that of the apostle, for to John the confession that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh was the essence of Christianity. III. Greece and Asia Minor. The Athenian Apologists. The first of the four writers generally associated with Athens is little more than a name, only one sentence of his Apology having come down to us. On the strength of that sentence Quadratus has been called 44 the father of the historical method in Christian evidences.” 1 He re¬ ferred to those who had been healed by Christ as the living witnesses of His power. But naturally it soon became impossible to find surviving witnesses and recipients of the healing power of Jesus ; so the next apologist, Aristides, while still keeping close to historical fact, finds attestation of the authority of Christ in 44 the holy Gospel writing,” and in the lives of Christians. He shows, too, how they trace their origin back to the Lord Jesus Christ, who came from heaven for the salvation of men, and by a voluntary death fulfilled an august dispensation. After three days He came to life again and ascended into heaven. His twelve disciples went into the world to proclaim His greatness, and those who observe the right¬ eousness they preached are called Christians. The com¬ mands of Jesus are engraved upon their hearts, and they are willing to sacrifice their lives for His sake. They are confident that more than all the nations of the earth they have found the truth.2 The bright picture Aristides gives us of the joyous self-denying lives of the Christians is the most eloquent testimony to the authority of their Lord. The unknown author of the first part of the Letter to Diognetus points to the wonderful growth of the Christian 1 Waterman, Post-Apostolic Age, p. 121. 'z Apology, c. 15, 16. Q 226 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES society as a proof of the authority of Christ.1 He delights also in looking back to the advent of the Lord. He came in meekness to save men, and will come again for judg¬ ment.2 The “ holy and incomprehensible Word ” is placed also in the hearts of men.3 So this writer, too, keeps in close touch with historic fact and Christian experience. He has also a vivid sense of the majesty and divinity of the Lord. He was the Son of God who came to reveal God, and to cover our sins with His right¬ eousness.1 He was the Almighty Creator of the universe, the invisible God from heaven, who planted among men the truth.5 It was as God that He was sent.0 But did He come as man ? Was the advent of the Lord merely a theophany, or was it a real incarnation ? It is so easy to read into the letter more than we actually find, and translate one notable passage, “ the iniquity of many shall be concealed in One Righteous Man,” though there is no word for man in the text.7 But is this justifiable ? There seems to be no reference of any kind throughout the letter to the humanity of the Saviour. So far as the writer has expressed himself, the mediator between God and man is not the man Christ Jesus. Even the meekness of the Saviour is a sign of His deity, and not of His humanity.8 It was as God that He came. But though the interest of the author seems centred exclusively in the deity of Christ, he has given us one of the most human conceptions of God to be found in Eastern writers. Not only was man created in the image of God, but he becomes an imitator of God through the practice of beneficence : he may even become a God to those who receive his benefits. Further, the authority of Christ, just because it is divine, is the constraint of love. We love Him, who first loved us.9 In Athenagoras, whom many regard as an Athenian Apologist, we have similar characteristics to those which met us in Theophilus of Antioch. He represents the 1 c. 7. 2 Ibid . 3 c. 5. 4 c. 8, 9. 5 c. 7. 6 Ibid. 7 As Walford does, p. 48. 8 c. 10. y c. 10. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 227 ecstatic and less moral view of inspiration,1 but otherwise his general position is very much the same. He shows the same want of interest in the Incarnation and death of Jesus Christ, and can even write a book on the re¬ surrection without referring to the resurrection of his Lord. Immortality is to him the greatest good, though one must arrive at it pure from all wrongdoing. Knowledge is the way thither, a correct knowledge of the mysteries of the Trinity. It is necessary to know God and His Logos, that the Logos proceeds from the one God, and that the spirit is an effluence from God.2 One must know what is the communion of the Father with the Son, what is the Spirit, and what is the unity of these three.3 The work of the Spirit in the material universe is referred to, and a theory of inspiration propounded.4 The teaching of the Logos is not confined to our Scriptures, for the Logos says to us, 44 If any one kiss a second time, because it has given him pleasure (he sins).” 5 Yet with all this interest in theology and zeal for an austere morality Athenagoras practically ignores the Gospel facts, and the words of Jesus are introduced simply by the phrase, 44 He saith.” 6 The Corinthian Writers. Concerning Corinth there is little to be said. Diony¬ sius, one of the great letter-writers of the age, gives us information of the observance of the Lord’s day, and of the reading of letters in Church along with the dominical Scriptures; of the practice also of 44 the apostles of the devil ” in falsifying documents, canonical and uncanonical ; of the milder methods he advocated in dealing with apostates and heretics ; and of some other matters. But these have only an indirect bearing on our subject. The so-called Second Epistle of Clement was as¬ signed by Bishop Lightfoot to Corinth. Though falling short in ability of some of the previous works, it is not 1 Apol. c. 9. 2 c. 10, 18, 24. 3 c. 12. 4 c. 6, 9, 24. 5 c. 32. 6 c. 33. Q 2 228 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES without importance as a witness to the authority of Jesus Christ. We should think of Jesus Christ, the preacher tells us, as of God and the Judge of the living and the dead.1 He, who was a spirit, became flesh and suffered for us. What return then shall we make to Him ? 2 But the sermon does not maintain the same level throughout. Eternal life is looked upon as the reward of good works and repentance.3 We love in order that we may attain to the kingdom of God.4 The obedience of the Christian does not rest firmly enough upon the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. The point of view is external and utilitarian. Another fact of importance to note is that the writer quotes as the Lord’s words that are not found in Scripture. The canonical Gospels “ are not regarded as the sole record of the teaching of the Lord.” 5 Papias the Phrygian. Papias was a hearer of John and a companion of Poly¬ carp. The title of his work, Expositions of Oracles of the Lord , reveals at once his reverential regard for the authentic sayings of Jesus Christ. He tells us that he did not want to hear about “ foreign commandments,” but only of those “ derived from the Truth itself.” For him the guarantee of the genuineness of the oracle was not the testimony of the Spirit, nor the reasonableness of the teaching, nor its practical fruits, but the testimony of the living voice of those who had consorted with apostles and apostolic men. He was pre-eminently a traditionalist and a literalist. Poly carp of Smyrna. Less original than Ignatius, of sounder judgment than Papias, the “ essentially commonplace ” 6 but faithful Polycarp is no doubt a good representative of the “ average Christian belief of the first half of the second century.” 7 Like Ignatius he does not claim the authority of an 1 c- 1- 2 c. 1, 9. ;5 c. 8, 9. 4 c. 9. 0 VVestcott, Canon, p. 186. 6 Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers-, i. p. 581. 7 Pfleiderer, Primitive Christianity, iii. p. 366. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 229 apostle,1 but unlike Ignatius, he does not profess to have received a communication from the Spirit of God. The Holy Spirit is not once mentioned in his letter. He almost apologises for writing to the Philippians. He had only done so at their invitation.2 And when he ventures to counsel them in the case of the straying members of the flock, it is that they should use moderation.3 Yet humble as Polycarp was in personal claims, and sympathetic as he was towards the erring members of the Church, his indignation was roused to white heat by any attempt to tamper with the archives. Marcion was the first-born of Satan.4 So, too, were the men who perverted the oracles of the Lord by denying a resurrection or judgment.5 Any one who denied that Jesus Christ had come in the flesh was anti-Christ. Similar language is also used regarding those who denied the testimony of the Cross to the true humanity of Jesus Christ.6 Polycarp’s life-long loyalty in his Master’s service, culminating in the martyr’s death, gives impressiveness to his way of regarding the Lord’s authority. We are to serve Him as He commanded us.7 We are to be mindful of what He formerly said in His teaching.8 We are to follow the example of the Lord in faith and love and meek¬ ness and truth.9 We are to walk according to the truth of the Lord who was servant of all.10 The words and example and truth of the Lord were the standards to which Polycarp wished to conform. The authority of Christ rested, for Poly carp, both on His Person and Work. He is the Lord, the eternal High Priest and Saviour, who for our sins suffered even unto death.11 He is the Judge of living and dead.12 In addition, the Christians of Philippi were exhorted to be subject to the presbyters and deacons, the bishop not being mentioned, as unto God and Christ.13 1 c. 3. 2 Ibid. 3 c. 11. 4 Eusebius, H. E. iv. 14. 5 c. 7- 0 c. 3. So Lightfoot ; but Zalm, “denying the testimony of the Church to the Crucifixion.' * 7 c. 6. 8 c. 2. 9 c. 10. 10 c. 5, 11 c, 1. 12 c, 2, 13 c. 5, 230 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES The nature and scope of that authority are not, however, defined ; and it was not to them, but to Jesus Christ Him¬ self and the apostles and prophets, that the Philippians were to look for an interpretation of the Christian life. “ Let us then serve Him as He Himself has commanded us, and as the apostles who preached the Gospel unto us, and as the prophets who proclaimed beforehand the coming of the Lord.” 1 Melito of Sardis. Melito was one of the most voluminous writers of the second century, but of his works we have only the titles and some small fragments. Confining ourselves to the Greek fragments, we notice that Melito refers to Christian¬ ity as a philosophy, which grew up side by side with the Empire, of which at that time Marcus Aurelius was the head. There was no necessary conflict between the claims of Christ and of Ciesar. But though speaking of Chris¬ tianity as a philosophy, Melito did not regard it exclusively from that point of view. The mere titles of the books show his wide range of interests, theological, ecclesiastical and practical, as well as philosophical. He speaks with no uncertain sound concerning the deity of Jesus Christ, who was truly God the Word, true God existing before all ages. Still more carefully he attempts to guard the humanity of Jesus Christ. Our Lord Jesus Christ the Saviour suffered. He was possessed of soul and body, having a human nature like our own. So emphatic was Melito upon the question of the real humanity of our Lord, that Origen seems to have taken offence at his plain speaking. But the fragments show no attempt to bring the authority of Jesus Christ into connection with His true humanity. The proofs of His humanity were given prior to His baptism, of His deity by His miracles during the three years of His ministry. The appeal of the In¬ carnation is not sufficiently ethical. 1 e. 0, EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 231 Polycrates of Ephesus tells us that Melito was one of the great luminaries of Asia, that he was a eunuch, and that all his actions were under the influence of the Lloly Spirit. We wish that there was sufficient information to enable us to add Polycrates to this list of Asiatic worthies, for the man who defied Victor of Rome had the courage of strong convictions. 44 I who have lived sixty-five years in the Lord, and have met with brethren throughout the world, and have gone through every holy Scripture, am not affrighted by terrifying words. For those greater than I have said, 4 We ought to obey God rather than man.’ ” 1 Justin Martyr. Adopting the geographical arrangement of authors, Justin Martyr, like Irenaeus, may be relegated to the West, for, though born as he himself tells u£ in Samaria, all else is uncertain, except that he lived some time, and died, in Rome. In the form of his teaching, however, he is Eastern rather than Western, and his importance gives him a right to a large place in any survey of second- century thought. But as so much that is characteristic of Justin’s teaching will meet us in Clement of Alexandria, we must pass over it very briefly here. No writer grasped more firmly the idea of the absoluteness of Christ’s author¬ ity as a teacher. Again and again he says, 44 Our teacher of these things is Jesus Christ.” 2 To live according to the good precepts of Christ is the Christian’s prayer.3 Our doctrines appear to be greater than all human teach¬ ing, because Christ, who appeared for our sake, became the whole rational being, both body and reason and soul. Philosophers and others were taught by the Word, but they did not know the whole of the Word, which is Christ, and so often contradicted themselves. Christ is the power of the ineffable Father, and not the mere instrument of human reason.4 Only the Son lived perfectly the life according to Nature.5 He is the blameless and in all 1 Euseb., H. E. v. 24. 2 2 Apol. 8 ; 1 Apol. 8, 13, 15, 16, 17- 3 1 Apol. 14, 4 2 Apol, 10, 5 Fray, from Leontius, 232 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES things irreproachable Christ Jesus.1 So whatever the Word forbids us to choose, the sensible man will not choose.2 We choose the things which please Him, choosing them by reason of the rational faculties He has Himself en¬ dowed us with ; so He both persuades us and leads us on to faith.5 The gates of light are opened only by God and His Christ.4 Christ is also the new, eternal and final law,r> and everlasting covenant.6 As a philosopher, Justin is chiefly interested in Christ as the revealer of truth and the revealer of God. But he is intensely interested also in the facts of the life and death of Jesus. The humanity of Jesus and His redeem¬ ing work are not forgotten. “ Say no evil thing, my brothers, against Him that was crucified, and treat not scornfully the stripes wherewith all may be healed even as we are healed.” 7 Justin valued the memoirs too well, and had too deep an experience of the grace of Christ to allow “ the compelling personality of Jesus to recede behind the vague figure of the Christ of prophecy,” 8 still less of the Gnostic Christ ; but the influence of Greek philosophy and of the Greek Mysteries had much to do in shaping the outward expression of his faith. Tati an. Tatian, the Assyrian, was a disciple of Justin Martyr’s at Rome, but represents a very different position from that of his master. He was the champion of “ barbaric ” wisdom and the prophets, being much more akin to Theophilus of Antioch, who sprang from the same region of the Euphrates. Harnack considers that Tatian’s Encratism was an attempt to imitate the poor life of Jesus.9 1 Trypho, 35. 2 1 Apol. 12. 3 Ibid. 10. 4 Trypho, 7, 8, 82, 92. 6 Ihid. 11. 0 Ibid. 43. 7 Ibid. p. 137. * Glover, Conflict of Religions in the Early Roman Empire, p. 194. y Hist, of Dogma, vol. i. p. 2-58. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 233 Alexandria. Epistle of Barnabas. The author of this epistle gives to “ our Lord Jesus Christ ” the central position in his theology, and lays great stress upon His divinity and atoning work. “ For to this end the Lord endured to deliver up His flesh to corruption, that we might be sanctified through the remission of sins, which is effected by His blood of sprinkling.” 1 Being the Lord of all the world, He endured to suffer for us.2 The Son of God came to the flesh, that He might bring to a head the sins of those who persecuted the prophets.3 It behoved Him to appear in the flesh that He might abolish death.4 The writer, too, does not shrink from using the name Jesus. He speaks of the covenant of the beloved Jesus,5 and of the new law of our Lord Jesus Christ, which is without the yoke of necessity.0 And yet we can see how strong was the tendency to think of the advent of Jesus as a theophany rather than an incarna¬ tion. He appeared in the flesh;7 He came to the flesh;8 He willed to suffer ; 9 He could not have suffered except for our sakes ; 10 but the writer just seems to stop short of the apostolic “ became flesh.” The true humanity seems hardly grasped. It is even said that Jesus, who was manifested both by type and in the flesh, was not the Son of Man, but the Son of God.11 But the authority of Christ is supreme. Having re¬ ceived the forgiveness of sins and placed our trust in the name of the Lord, we have become new creatures. . . . His statutes and doctrine dwell in us, He Himself prophesy¬ ing in us.12 The Christian community is also still under the direct teaching of the Lord. “ I truly perceive in you the spirit poured forth from the rich Lord of love.” 13 “ I beseech you be good law-givers to one another . . . and be ye taught of God, inquiring diligently what the 1 c. 5. 2 Ibid. Ibid. 4 Ibid. 5 c. 4. 6 c. 2. 7 c. 5. 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid, 10 c. 7- 11 c. 12. 12 c, 16. c. L 234 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Lord asks from you.”1 Yet this is to be done with due regard to the traditional faith.2 And in this connection we remember how in this epistle we have the first quota¬ tion from the New Testament introduced by the phrase “ It is written.”3 The author also lays great stress on the intellectual virtues, wisdom, understanding, science and knowledge.4 Knowledge is not inconsistent with faith ; on the contrary Gnosis says, “ Trust in Him who is to be manifested to vou in the flesh, renewed bv the remission of sins, made after another pattern.”5 The writer’s own incursions into the region of speculation and advanced knowledge were not, however, very happy. He failed to realise the progressive character of revelation, thought that the Mosaic law was never intended to be literally kept, in¬ dulged in allegory, and asserted that no one had been admitted to a “ more excellent piece of knowledge ” than the great secret he disclosed to those who were worthy to receive it — that the three hundred and eighteen members of Abraham’s household represent the Saviour and His Cross.5 Epistle to Diognetus. Part II. The author of the second part of this epistle in all probability belonged to Alexandria. He was a disciple of the apostles and a teacher of the Gentiles. He respected tradition, ministering the things delivered to him by those disciples who were worthy of the truth. But it is the everlasting Son, who enriches the Church, giving grace and understanding, respecting the limits of the faith and the boundaries set by the fathers ; so that the fear of the law, the grace of the prophets, the faith of the Gospels, and the tradition of the apostles, are seen to be harmonious. And the Word still teaches men, by whom, and when He pleases. This is He who was from the beginning, who 1 C. 21. 2 c. 19. 3 c. 4. 4 C. 2. 5 c. 6. c c. 9. 1 = 10, H = 8, the initial letters of ’It? aovs, and T = 300 = the Cross, EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 235 appeared as if new and was found old, and yet who is ever born afresh in the hearts of the saints. The true knowledge is that which is witnessed to by life.1 Though there are no direct references to the Gospels, nor any allusions to our Lord’s discourses, Bishop Westcott thought that “ the influence of the Word on the Christian was made to flow from His historical revelation to mankind.” 2 This may be so in the wide sense of the word historical ; but the uniqueness of the life and work of Jesus of Nazareth does not appear to be recognised or safeguarded. It is the authority of the Word rather than of Jesus Christ, or of the Spirit whom He sent, that is emphasised. Clement of Alexandria. The central thought of Clement, as of others of the Apologists, was that of the Word or Logos. He who ex¬ horts the heathen, instructs the catechumens, and teaches the more advanced or Gnostic Christians, is not Jesus Christ or the Holy Spirit whom He promised to send to the disciples to lead them into all truth, but rather the Word, who in all ages had been speaking to men. Clement felt the necessity, as others before him had felt, of main¬ taining at all costs the antiquity rather than the novelty of Christianity. This conception of the Logos enabled Clement to dispose of his captious critics, and gave a magnificent range to the Divine Teacher. All men were in fact, though in very varying degrees, His pupils. (a) The authority of the Word was revealed in heathen literature. So manifold is the wisdom of God and so widely diffused that all sects whether of barbarian or Hellenic philosophy have been enlightened by it, and their teachings may be regarded as fragments from the theology of the ever-living Word.3 Under His influence the tragic poets uttered injunctions of righteousness,4 and the comic poets said things profitable for salvation.5 But it was specially in Greek philosophy that the Word 1 c. 11. 2 Canon, pp. 91, 93. 3 Strom, i. 13. 4 Paed. iii. 12. 5 Ibid. 2, 236 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES spoke. Philosophy was a work of divine Providence, and a school -master to bring the Greeks to Christ.1 Prophecy was given to the philosophers, from which they created dogmas which were sometimes true.2 Men may be justified by philosophy.3 But Clement proceeds to qualify his appreciation. The whole of the Hellenic philosophy like nuts is not eatable.4 He must be allowed to choose from among the philosophers what has been well said. The Socratic teaching, as given in Plato, is apparently altogether edible. At least Clement “ never criticises ” Plato, “ even where he does not follow him.” 5 The truth-loving Plato spoke as if divinely inspired,0 and through inspiration of God.7 Clement finds the Holy Spirit and even the Holy Trinity in the Timaeus .8 Yet though preparatory to the truly royal teaching, philosophy is partial and powerless.9 It is light artificially stolen from the sun, like the torch of wick.10 The philosophers were thieves and robbers, stealing from the Hebrew prophets.11 The teaching which is according to the Saviour is complete in itself, and Hellenic philosophy does not make the truth more powerful.12 On the contrary, philo¬ sophers are children unless they have been made men by Christ.13 (b) But it is specially in Scripture that the authoritative voice of the Word is heard, the varied and unfading Scriptures,14 the oracles of God, resplendent with the rays of truth. They are valid from their omnipotent autho¬ rity,15 a short road to salvation,10 and by them one is helped to faith, another to morality, and a third is liberated from superstition by the knowledge of things.17 A liberal interpretation, however, is given to the word “ Scripture,” for not only are Apocryphal books, like Ecclesiasticus and the Preaching of Peter, quoted as Scripture, but quotations 1 Strom, i. 1, i. 5. 2 Ibid. v. 1. 3 Ibid. i. 4. 4 Ibid. 1. 5 Gwatkin, The Knowledge of God , ii. p. Do. 9 Strom, i. 8. 7 Protrep. 6. 6 Strom, v. 14. 9 Ibid. i. 0. 10 Ibid. v. 5. 11 Ibid. i. 17. 12 Ibid. 20. 13 Ibid. 11. 14 Paed. ii. 11. 15 Strom, iv, 2, 16 Probe. 8, 17 Proph. Script. 28, EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATUTE 237 from other works, not known to us, are given as from Scripture.1 But Scripture, however defined, is the supreme revelation. The fragmentary utterances of the Word in Greek philosophy are brought to the test of Scripture. All that Clement himself teaches he confesses derives its breath and life from Scripture.2 The other means of acquiring knowledge of the Word are also subordinated to Scripture. (c) But how far is the authority of Christ expressed by or in the Church ? Clement has comparatively little to say about the Church. The Churches and the shepherds who preside over them are referred to.8 There is a heavenly Church, and there is an earthly Church, the latter being the image of the former.4 But it is not always clear to which Clement is referring. It is enclosed in the grasp of faith ; 5 the holy mountain on which the people of God are fed.6 It binds Christians together as a garland for Christ.7 It persists to all generations through the en¬ durance of its members.8 Once the Church is the virgin mother,0 once simply the good mother,10 and once the title mother is denied her and given to the Divine Wisdom.11 It is by translating us into the Church that the Word unites us to Himself.12 The Church is regulated by the Word.18 It stands at another time for the disciples, whom the Gnostic Christian has begotten in faith.14 Within the external communion of the Church of the Lord there are those who do not live in accordance with the Word, and these constitute the fleshy parts of the holy Church, which is itself a spiritual body.15 The sacrifice of the Church is a purely spiritual sacrifice.16 It is only when we come to such expressions as “ the true church,” 44 the one church,” “ the ancient and universal church,” 44 the rule of faith,” “ the canon of the church,” 44 the apostolic 1 Ibid. 58 ; Paed. iii. 12 ; Strom, i. 8. 3 Paed. i. 6. 6 Paed. i. 9. 9 Ibid. 6. 2 Strom, vii. 1. * Ibid. ii. 12. 8 Ibid. i. 5. 11 Strom, vi. 16. 14 Ibid. vii. 9. 12 Paed. iii. 12. 16 Ibid. 14. 4 Strom, iv. 8. 7 Ibid. ii. 8. 10 Ibid. iii. 12. 13 Strom, iv. 26. 1(5 Ibid, 6. 238 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES and ecclesiastical orthodoxy,” which are almost entirely confined to a single book of the Miscellanies in which Clement is vindicating the true tradition against heretics, that we seem to be in an ecclesiastical atmosphere. We should, however, do Clement an injustice if we interpreted these expressions in the light of later usage, rather than in connection with his own system of thought. We may notice, then, that according to Clement the Church may sing, but she may not teach. It is the Bridegroom, the Word Himself, who is alone the Teacher.1 And what is the ecclesiastical canon but the harmony of the law and the prophets in the covenant delivered at the coming of the Lord ? 2 As a vindicator of apostolic tradition and orthodoxy, as he understood it, Clement was the liberal churchman of his day. He wished to be inclusive, not exclusive. His canon of Scripture was wider than that of Marcion. Heretics were rejected, not for their breadth, but because they did not find room for all the elements of truth handed down from the apostles. And even in this matter of apostolic tradition Clement was certainly not the narrow ecclesiastic. The tradition was a common one,:l and before that common tradition there was the venerable canon of tradition from the creation of the world, to which the Churches could lay no exclusive claim.4 In so far as there was any apostolic tradition known only to a fewr, it had no authority independent of Scripture, and it was preserved not by the bishops or other ecclesiastical officers, but by the Gnostic Christian. For nothing is more noticeable in Clement’s treatment of the Church than the shadowy place assigned to the bishops. It is not they, but the Gnostic Christians, who are the successors of the apostles. Once he refers to the three ranks of deacons, presbyters and bishops, but only in the same paragraph to let the bishops drop out ; 5 and when characterising the work of the officers of the Church, 1 Paed. iii. 12. 2 Strom, vi. 15. 3 Ibid. vii. 17. 4 Ibid. i. 1. 6 Ibid. vi. 13. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 239 he only distinguishes the diaconal and the presbyteral.1 The apostolic tradition had not apparently come to him through the bishops, but through men of apostolic spirit, and by men of apostolic spirit it was to be handed down. Only the true Gnostic, who had received and understood by reason of the fixed disposition of his soul the tradition of the Lord, could take the place of the apostles. The qualifications were purely spiritual. This is all the more noteworthy because of the exalted notion Clement had of the apostles. Not only were they noble, inspired, blessed, holy and divine, but they were perfected in all gifts.2 They were not liable even to such movements of feeling as courage, joy or desire.3 Together with the Lord they suffered for our sins, while other men suffer for their own.4 In one pas¬ sage Clement says that an apostle could alter Scripture; but perhaps the phrase ought not to be pressed.5 The man who has lived gnostically may be enrolled in the chosen body of the apostles. Such a one is really a presbyter of the Church and a true minister of the Will of God, if he do and teach what is the Lord’s, not as being ordained by men.0 The Gnostic has a priestly work to do.7 Never falling into sins,8 he can make up for the absence of the apostles by the rectitude of his life, the accuracy of his knowledge, and even by removing the sins of his neighbours.9 Such a one passing through the spiritual essences and all rule and authority touches the highest thrones.10 ( d ) From what has been said it is evident that Clement safeguarded the rights of the individual against any form of external constraint. The authoritative voice of the Word may be heard in the soul of each individual. Men and women are alike pupils of the Word.11 Under the tuition 1 Strom, vii. 1. “So, the Lord who spake formerly by the prophets speaks now by the apostles and teachers. For the Church is the minister of the Lord’s power.” — Proph. Script. 23. 2 I hid. iv. 21. s Ibid. vi. 9. 4 Ibid. iv. 12. 6 Paed. ii. 3. 6 Strom, vi. 13. 7 Ibid. vii. 7. s Ibid. 12. » Ibid. 7. 10 Ibid. 13. 11 Paed. i. 4. 240 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of the Word the humblest Christian may become wiser than all his teachers. Indeed, he must call no man teacher or master upon earth. Every one has a witness inborn and competent, namely faith, which of itself from its own resources chooses at once what is best instead of painfully inquiring.1 Examples are not to be despised, nor the guidance which others may give. Clement does not neglect the social side of religion. But the stress is laid upon the individual. One’s own conscience is best for choosing accurately or shunning." Almost all of us with¬ out training in arts and sciences and the Hellenic philosophy have through faith received the word concerning God, trained by self-operating reason.8 But how is the authoritative teaching of the Word to be recognised ? This question is not easily answered, for Clement’s eclecticism prevents his being content with a single answer. The quotation, given above, which speaks of the witness, inborn and competent, might seem to solve the problem. In the same address to the Greeks Clement urges that all men have within them a certain divine effluence, by which they are brought to confess, though reluctantly, that God is one. May we say, then, that nothing beyond man’s natural endowments are re¬ quired to discern the truth of the authoritative Word ? We may turn first to a remarkable description of man’s powers given in connection with an exposition of the ten commandments. There it is said that there is a ten also in man. The first seven of these powers are the five senses, the power of speech, and that of reproduction ; the last three are the spiritual principle imparted at creation, the ruling faculty of the soul, and the distinctive character¬ istic of the Holy Spirit, which comes through faith. By the spiritual principle is meant the vital sense, through which the body becomes the subject of sensations. This is irrational, but is followed by the ruling faculty or power of choice in which investigation and study and knowledge reside. What the characteristic is which comes through 1 Protr. 10. 2 Strom, i. 1. 3 Ibid. 20. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 241 faith is not further defined, but apart from this the primacy seems to be given to volition as the principle in which knowledge resides.1 This pragmatic position is more fully stated elsewhere, and the precedence given to volition ; the intellectual powers being regarded as ministers of the will.2 Unswerving choice gives consider¬ able momentum in the direction of knowledge.3 Else¬ where reason is called the governing principle or pilot of the soul,4 and knowledge is said to come first and im¬ pulse second, both being excited by objects already ex¬ isting.1 Are we, then, to consider Clement as endeavouring to unite the views of Plato and the Cynics, and go back to the unresolved dualism of Socrates with the emphasis on knowledge ? This would be quite in harmony with his eclectic spirit ; but Clement was a Christian as well as a philosopher, and he seeks through the notion of faith to solve the unsolved problem of philosophy. Faith is allied on the one hand with volition, and is the result of free choice, and on the other hand with knowledge.15 As the inborn and competent witness it chooses ; but by a kind of divine, mutual and reciprocal correspondence it becomes characterised by knowledge.7 It is at the same time both practical and theoretical. It is natural, and it is divine. It is a power of God, being the strength of the truth.8 Whether founded in love or in fear, it is something divine, and not a mere human habit.9 But it is also ratiocinative, a grace which from what is indemonstrable conducts to what is universal and simple.10 Faith, then, though allied with man’s natural powers of volition and knowledge, is a divine gift or grace. It is not simply an act of the will or a movement of the reason. It is due to the action of God upon man. It implies a Revealer, as well as one who receives the revelation. The Word is the living Word, self-revealing, self-authenticating. It is by divine grace and the Word alone that we come 1 Strom, vi. 16. 2 Ibid. ii. 17. Ibid. 2. 4 Ibid. 17. 3 Ibid. vi. 8. 6 Ibid. ii. .3. 7 Ibid. 4. 8 Ibid. 11. 9 Ibid. 6. 10 Ibid. 4. R 242 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES to know.1 He is the Sun of the soul by whom alone, when He arises in the depths of the soul, the eye of the soul itself is irradiated.2 Again and again in glowing terms Clement ascribes to the living Word the power of dissipat¬ ing a darkness too dense for the unaided intellect or will of man to pierce. In the last resort he is neither a prag¬ matist nor a rationalist, still less an emotionalist, but simply a Christian. Faith does not require demonstration. It brings with it its own authentication. By its very nature it implies the presence of the Word, and as He speaks to the soul there is a demonstration which cannot be impugned.3 Believe God through His voice, he says, and rest in the infallible criterion of faith.4 The followers of the Samian Pythagoras regarded the ipse dixit of their teacher as sufficient, why further test the utterances of our trustworthy Teacher God, the only Saviour ? 5 Is this obscurantism, and an insufficient support for morality ? Clement thought it was neither. The faith which obeyed the Word was obedience to reason, and the efficacious cause of duty.6 With that kind of faith in his heart, and with its handbook, at once rude and divine, called love, in his hand, the most unlettered believer would find it in his power to listen to divine wisdom, and to frame his life in accordance with it ; 7 and having attained a fixed moral disposition, then and not till then, would scientific knowledge be possible.8 Finally, Clement has reasons to give in justification of obedience to the authority of the Word, as thus revealed and recognised. Man is the image of the Word, as the Word is the image of God. Obedience to the Word is there¬ fore the fulfilment of our own nature. We are also the creatures, the rational creatures of the Word, and there- 1 Strom, v. 11, 12. 2 Protr. (5, 11. 3 Strom, ii. 2. 4 Ibid. 4. 5 Ibid. 5. 6 Food. i. 13. 7 Ibid. iii. 11. 8 Strom, vi. 1). Bigg says that “the great Platonic maxim” of Clement, “ that nothing is to be believed which is unworthy of God makes reason a judge of revelation.” — Christian Platonists of Alex., p. 51. “ It is balanced,” says Mayor, “by another maxim, viz. respect due to Church or apostolic tradition. ” — Cl. of Alex. Miscellanies, p. xxxvii. In the light of the foregoing citations this hardly seems a complete statement. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 243 fore owe allegiance to Him.1 It is monstrous that those who are God’s handiwork should be subject to another Master instead of to their rightful King.2 The divine Instructor has authority, because He has created us in His image, that we may attain to His likeness.3 But the evangelical appeal is not wanting. The Word is not simply the Instructor and Creator, but the Physician who healed the bodies and souls of men.4 He is the expiator of sin; 5 the forgiver of sins,0 who died for those enslaved.7 The blessedness of sin forgiven came on those who had been chosen by God through Jesus Christ our Lord.8 We have as a limit the cross of the Lord, by which we are fenced and hedged about from our former sins.9 The Word forgives our sins, and trains us not to sin. It is incumbent on us therefore to return His love.10 And other passages of this kind might be adduced. Occasionally we find even Clement succumbing to the tendency of the natural man to limit the fulness of the Redeemer’s grace, as when the distinction is made between the sins forgiven by Christ and those purged away by suffering. But Clement speaks quite clearly regarding the absolute authority of the Word as Redeemer. “ I regenerated thee, I emancipated, healed, ransomed thee. Follow thou me. I am He who feeds thee, giving Myself as bread. . . . For thee I contended with death, and paid thy debt, which thou owedst for thy former sins and thy unbelief toward God.” 11 So many-sided is Clement’s treatment of this great theme, that one hesitates to speak of defects. Probably no early ecclesiastical writer has done such ample justice to the question of our Lord’s authority. But even Clement had his limitations. Though he was a Christian, he was also a Platonist, and a perfect harmony between the Platonic conception of God and that contained in the Gospels is impossible. The Platonic principle that the 1 Protr. 1. 2 Ibid. 10. 3 Paed. i. 11. 4 Quis Dives, 29. 5 Protr. 10. G Paed, i. 8. 7 Prot. 10. 8 Strom, ii. 15. 9 Paed. iii. 12. 10 Ibid, i. 3. 11 Quis Dives, 23. R 2 244 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Divine and human will not blend makes a real incarnation inconceivable. So Clement says that God is in essence remote, though His power is always present.1 We are in no respects related to Him in essence, or nature, or in the peculiar energy of our essence, but only in our being the work of His will.2 As adopted sons, we are only like Him, as being made immortal and conversant with the con¬ templation of realities.3 As a philosopher, Clement never realises the proper significance of the Incarnation. He, of course, accepts the fundamental truth of the Word made flesh.4 For our sakes He became man.5 Though mani¬ fest deity He is yet the fellow-champion with the creature.0 Under the influence of Scripture quotations he can say, When He might have been Lord, He wished to be a brother man, and so good was He, that He died for us.7 But as a philosopher he speaks of the holy God Jesus,8 the mystic angel Jesus and of the Word Incarnate as in¬ tellectual light.9 We cease to live after the flesh by ceasing to sin, Jesus Christ did so by ceasing to be subject to natural affection.10 Clement is under the influence of Plato and the Stoics in his way of regarding the affections. The model for man, the divine Word, is intellectual.11 The image of God is the divine and royal Word, the impassible man, and the image of the image is the human mind.12 Though in speaking to catechumens he says that body and soul are the proper man,11 he tells the advanced Christian that he is no longer to make use of his body.14 Jesus Christ, though He received a body like our own, trained it to a condition of impassibility, so that He had no longer any need to eat and drink.15 Often, under the influence of the Gospel, Clement seems to be ridding himself of this Platonic incubus ; but it comes back again, and once at least drops him into the abyss of Neo-Platonic mysticism. The perfect Christian, he tells us, enters so nearly into a state 1 Strom, ii. 1. 2 Ibkl, 10. 3 Ibid. 17. 4 Paed. i. 3. 5 Ibid. 8. c Protr. 10. Paed. i. 9. 8 Ibid. 7. 9 Fray, from Nicetas. 10 Frag. 11 Strom, vi. 9. 12 Ibid. v. 14. 13 Paed. iii. 12. 14 Strom, vi. 9. 13 Ibid. 9. EARLY CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 245 of impassible identity, as no longer to have science and possess knowledge, but to be science and knowledge. Divesting himself of his complete humanity he may be¬ come like God in contemplation and immortality; he may even become God.1 Not unconnected with this failure to appreciate to the full the complete humanity of our Lord, and its essential connection with His authority over men, is the prevailing character of Clement’s references to the Holy Spirit. He tells us that in other works, which have not come down to us, he wished to treat more fully regarding the Holy Spirit, showing both what the Holy Spirit is and in what way it resides in each of us.'2 We have, however, some scores of allusions to the Spirit in his extant writings. Many of these are merely incidental : many more are simply quotations, and it is difficult to determine how far Clement had himself assimilated the Scriptural teaching on this subject. There are occasions when Clement seems to be reproducing apostolic truths.3 Rut his misquotation of 1 Cor. ii. 10 is characteristic.4 And, in general, we may say that the work of the Spirit is conceived in too physical and gnostic a manner.5 Even illumination of the Spirit is not so much with a view to practical guidance, or to a fuller knowledge of the things of Jesus Christ, as to make the Christian impassible, and lead to a knowledge of real existences.6 In the midst of much that is scriptural, we seem to miss that profound conviction of the essential connection of the work of the Spirit with the facts of an actual historical redemption, which is so marked a feature of New Testament teaching. The Logos rather than the Holy Spirit, who was sent by Jesus Christ from the Father, is the Christian’s guide. The change is not simply one of terminology or theology, but also of serious practical moment. The historical significance of the Spirit’s mission 1 Strom, vi. 6. 2 Ibid. v. 13. 3 E. g. Protr. 9 ; Paed. iii. 11 ; Strom, iv. 7, 3 and 9 ; vii. 2, 14 ; Proph. Script. 13, 45 ; Fragments from Cassiodorw. 4 Strom, ii. 2. 6 E. g. Paed. i. 12 ; ii. 2 ; iii. 3 ; Strom, vi. 15, 16. li Strom, vi. 16. 246 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES is faintly apprehended. That means, as compared both with Pauline and Johannine teaching, defective views of sin, atonement and human perfection. It also means that, valuable as Clement’s teaching may have been as a via media between Gnostic doctrine on the one hand and apostolic teaching on the other, it was insufficient both as against Gnosticism and Montanism. The limits of space prevent further reference to the Gnostic writers and Montanist prophets. There were Christian elements in their teaching, just as there were heathen elements in the more Catholic writers ; and the authority of our Lord was in varying degrees acknow¬ ledged. But in spite of resemblances in phraseology and idea, the “ God Lord Jesus Christ ” of the Acts of John is more like the Saviour-Gods of the Mysteries than the divinely-human Saviour of the apostolic writings ; and the ecstatic and legalistic aspects of Montanism prevent us from regarding it as a genuine revival of apostolic Chris¬ tianity. But Montanism was a much-needed protest against intellectual! sm on the one hand and ecclesiasticism on the other : and who shall say that it misrepresented the Gospel to a greater extent than the other movements ? Ought we not rather to see in all three, honest, if in part misguided, attempts to make real the authority of Jesus Christ among men ? And may we not still believe that the Spirit of Truth is guiding men into all truth, even through the partial successes and disastrous failures of the past ? Infallibility belongs to nothing that is human. The more perfect interpretation and application of the faith once delivered to the saints is the task awaiting every generation. “ Nothing visible is eternal.” Creeds and ministries and institutions will change, but there is a Word which liveth and abideth, and a Church against which the gates even of an unseen world shall not prevail. And the hope burns yet more brightly that in the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess that He is Lord to the glory of God the Father, ESSAY VIII THE HOLY SPIRIT AND DIVINE IMMANENCE Rev. Prof. W. T. Davison, M.A., D.D. SYNOPSIS Different interpretations of the word “ God ” and of His relation to the world. The Problem of Divine Immanence — is it solved by the Christian Doctrine of the Holy Spirit ? I. Current uses of the doctrine of Immanence as excluding Tran¬ scendence. Spinoza, Hegel, and their influence on modern thinkers. II. The Neo-Hegelian School; views of the brothers Caird and T. H. Green stated and criticised. Eucken ; the Modernists ; tendency to merge transcendence in immanence. III. Monism, ambiguity of the term, Sir O. Lodge’s definition. Ideal¬ istic Monism, is it compatible with Theism ? W. James, Pluralism and Pragmatism. No real unity for the universe in strict Monism. IV. Theistic doctrine combines transcendence and immanence, but the former comes first. Human personality must be preserved. The Personality of God, limiting Himself in Creation. All things in God, or God in all things ? True Theistic doctrine. V. The Bible ; teaching of the Old Testament. St. John and the Logos. Relation of God to the world implied in the Incarnation and the Cross. Climax in the Christian doctrine of the Holy Spirit. Light shed by it on various aspects of Immanence. Problem of Evil ; the true Indwelling yet to come. VI. Bearings of the subject on current Theology. An adequate doctrine of Immanence would rejuvenate Theism. Bearing on the questions of the Supernatural, Providence, Revelation and Atonement. Emerson’s “ Over-Soul ” contrasted with Augustine’s Christian Mysticism. The “ mystery ” of the doctrine no impenetrable abyss, but an open secret. The lifting of the veil. THE HOLY SPIRIT AND DIVINE IMMANENCE One of the most discriminating of the Gifford lecturers points out that 44 the question which is at the root of the theological embarrassment of the present day is, What does the word 4 God 5 mean ? ” 1 The rapidly multiplying series of lectures on the Gifford foundation — including the work of thinkers so various as Max Muller, Edward and John Caird, Pfleiderer, Tiele, Royce and Gwatkin — form an appropriate commentary on Dr. Fraser’s text. It may be a strange, it is certainly an instructive, fact that in the twentieth century a.d. the one sacred Name should be so differently interpreted, not only by philosophers, but by Theistic and even nominally Christian teachers. It cannot be matter of surprise if the exact place and function in the universe of the Homeric 44 gods ” is open to question ; if scholars still debate whether Plato’s Idea of the Good, which is the source of all knowledge and of all existence, stands as a philosophical conception of 44 God ” and howr it is related to the 44 Maker and Father of all ” in the Timceus. Nor can Ave wonder if contradictions are to be found even in Aristotle, who at one time uses the term 44 gods ” as if he shared the polytheism of the multi¬ tude, at another employs vaguely deistic language con¬ cerning design in nature, and again at another gathers the ultimate principles of knowledge and existence into one dimly pantheistic whole, as robots vofjoecog , absolute self-consciousness. It has often been pointed out how misleading is the name God in the Stoic philosophy, and that Stoicism can never be understood unless it be borne in mind that the God of whom Seneca, M. Aurelius and Philosophy of Theism. By A. C. Fraser, LL.l)., p. 33 (2nd edition), 249 i 250 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Epictetus write in tones of almost devotional fervour is no more than Eternal Substance in a materialistically pantheistic sense. The Stoic Deity is indeed dynamic, not mechanical, it is an active principle of existence; but it is not far removed from the “ Substance ” of Hack el, who on one page rules out the central doctrines of God, Freedom and Immortality as incredible and mischievous lies, and on another defines God, “ the infinite sum of all natural forces, the sum of all atomic forces and ether vibrations,” as the only idea of the Divine compatible with our present knowledge of nature. But it might well be supposed that amongst Theists — not to say Christians — of our own day the fundamental connotation of the term “ God ” could hardly give rise to serious difference of opinion. Certain definitions of God, derived from mediaeval philosophy and embodied in orthodox catechisms, might be challenged without serious departure from fundamental conceptions. But the Theism of the present age would seem to be of a very uncertain type, varying from a firm belief in the ultimate Principle of Existence as spiritual and personal, to ideas which fade away into a nebulous mist of Pantheism hardly distinguishable from atheistic Naturalism. There is a suggestive passage in one of William James’s later books, in which he describes the God of ordinary religious men as “ the ideal tendency in things, believed in as a superhuman person,” adding that whilst there are those who are persuaded that God cannot be finite, “ I believe that the only God worthy of the name must be finite.” These underlying, and often undetected, diversities of meaning attaching to the name God, are closely con¬ nected with, and indeed depend upon, a fundamental uncertainty as to His relation to the world. The very idea of God implies some conception of His relation to the universe. Of the unconditioned and unrelated we can know nothing. An adequate definition of the Divine Essence must describe the way in which it is related to the Cosmos of which man forms a part. In this con¬ nection the emergence and rapid adoption of the word THE HOLY SPIRIT 251 Immanence is noteworthy. To its use, or abuse, may be traced much of the confusion now beclouding some regions of the theological world. There are reasons enough in the discoveries and changes in the last half-century to account for serious modifications in men’s ideas as to the relation of the universe to God. But it is exceedingly desirable that these, whatever they are, should be clearly understood and not be allowed to float unobserved in the atmosphere of religious conceptions, which may be practi- callv revolutionised before men are conscious of the fact. The stress now laid upon the Divine Immanence in the universe is in the main an encouraging sign of health and progress. If a living belief in a living God is to be maintained, rather than a tacit acceptance of a catalogue of abstract categories, it must be through a realisation of His present, intimate, indwelling energy. But the progress of human thought is too often one of evolution by antagonism. The pendulum swings from extreme to extreme and refuses to stand still at the middle point of vibration. A hard Deism provokes a recoil into loose Pantheism. And on this most momentous of all subjects, the nature of God and His relation to the world, it is well that the restless process of widening and deepening the thoughts of men should be watched in all its steps and stages. Christian theists claim to combine the transcendence of God demanded by religion with His immanence in nature as demanded by science and philosophy. But the com¬ bination is not easy, and it has been attempted in some quarters with very questionable success. Is it true that the Christian doctrine of the Holy Spirit, when rightly understood, indicates a middle path between erroneous extremes ? Or rather that it furnishes the central verity which comprehends and combines truths lying at the heart of opposing errors ? It is the object of this paper to indicate some lines along which an affirmative answer may be rendered to that vitally important question. It will be necessary first to discriminate between a truly Theistic and other doctrines of Divine Immanence, !and then to show that the Christian doctrine of God — and 252 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES especially of the Holy Spirit — makes it easier to accept and maintain the teaching of Theism. I Immanence is properly a philosophical term, and the word is rare in English literature. The Oxford Dictionary adduces no example of it earlier than S. T. Coleridge, whose freedom in coining words is well known. The adjective 14 immanent ” is more familiar. As a quality of actions it is opposed (following Aristotle) to transitive ; and in rendering Kant it is opposed to transcendental. So far as its associations are concerned, the term 44 imma¬ nent philosophy ” is understood to mean either the ex¬ clusive indwelling of God in nature and in man in a natur¬ alistic or pantheistic sense, or else the doctrine that all reality may be reduced to elements abiding within con¬ sciousness. From the times of the Stoics to Alexander Pope an 44 immanent God ” has been understood to be one who c< Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part. As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart : As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns. As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : To Him no high, no low, no great, no small : He fills. He bounds, connects, and equals all.” Within the last few years in this country the word 44 imma¬ nence ” has come rapidly into use, almost supplanting 44 omnipresence ” as an attribute of God. But it has been substituted without being defined, and under cover of it views of the Divine Being and His relation to the world have been inculcated which the older word would not cover. For the most part this is pure gain. Believers in God desired to say not only that He is present every¬ where, but how He is present ; that His action upon the universe is from within rather than from without, or from within as well as from without ; that such informing and inhabiting of all nature is continuous, not transient ; and that it is all-pervasive and intimately interpenetrative in a sense hardly hitherto realised. The strong tendency to emphasise these aspects of God’s relation to the world THE HOLY SPIRIT 253 is due to many causes, prominent among which is the prevalence of theories of evolution. But it is necessary to ask exactly what the tendency means, and how far it may legitimately be carried by those who still claim to be Theists. For it is quite certain that in the hands of its great representative advocates the doctrine of Divine Immanence has excluded transcendence and has practically spelled Pantheism. A standard illustration is found in Spinoza, upon whose system it would be unnecessary to touch, were it not that he is the intellectual ancestor of types of theory now prevalent that are called theistic. Defenders of Spinoza, in repelling the charge of Atheism made against him, have fairly replied that he was rather an Acosmist ; but they have failed to see that to deny the existence of the universe by giving it the name of God is equivalent to denying God by identifying Him with the universe. According to Spinoza, 44 whatever is, is in God, and without God nothing can be conceived.” There is, and can be, only one Substance, 44 that which is in itself and is con¬ ceived through itself.” God, who is the one Substance, is 44 a Being single and infinite, which is the totality of being and beyond which there is no being.” This whole includes and determines all individual existences, and their substantial reality therefore disappears. God is omne esse , He is 44 not the transient, but the immanent cause of the world.” He is causa sui and causa omnium rerum , the one substance which is both self-differentiating and self-integrating. The differentiation is traced out in infinite attributes, of which two are known to us — thought and extension. These are two sides of the same thing, the two ways in which we, by the very form of our intelligence, think of God; necessary categories under which the human mind represents Him. The further differentiation of these two attributes into finite and infinite modes is then pursued, but the relation of modes to attributes is not made entirely clear, for it would seem that individual finite things have only a fictitious existence. Whether Spinoza meant to teach that God is all and the 254 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES world is nothing, or that God is the one Being that expands into an infinite number of individual modifications, is still matter of debate. The philosopher himself may not have clearly distinguished between the two ways of regard¬ ing the relation of the One and the many, both of them Pantheistic — the former of an Eastern, the latter of a Western type. One thing, however, is clear, that for Spinoza no transcendence on the part of the Deity is possible, immanence is complete and sufficient. And all modern doctrines of immanence which reproduce Spinoza’s fundamental principles, though they are not worked out with his logical and mathematical precision, must come under the condemnation that for them immanence means identification. The fascination of so lofty and all-embracing a philo¬ sophy has always been felt by certain types of mind, but it was probably more manifest in the latter part of the nineteenth century than at any period since Spinoza’s death. Side by side with his influence there was operative that of another master thinker, who from his own stand¬ point undertook to set forth “ the glory of the sum of things ” — Hegel. For him the rational is the real, the real is the rational. “ All reality is the expression of reason, and all being the realisation of thought.” The concrete universe in all its history is a development of the Absolute, a process of the Self-manifestation of God. The Absolute exists first as pure Idea, but by the dialectic which obtains throughout all existence — the law of develop¬ ment which proceeds by thesis, antithesis and synthesis — it becomes the Universe in continuous evolution. All reality is a synthesis of opposites. Only the whole is real; all things else that can be named are partial abstractions. Ildvza Q8i — all things fleet away, the river of existence is never still. The partial is not only fleeting, but false. Truth, reality, is the organic unity of opposites. God, the one Reality, reproduces Himself or realises Himself in nature, in history, in mind. Himself Spirit, His potential being becomes actual in the universe, coming to self-con¬ sciousness in mind and returning to Himself in Spirit again. THE HOLY SPIRIT 255 For Hegel as for Spinoza, the process of transition by which the One realises itself in the many presented a problem which both sought to illuminate, but which neither succeeded in making clear. Kant by his theory of knowledge had shown that self-consciousness is the ultimate reality of things ; Hegel sought by means of the same principle to explain the phenomenal world. Neither things nor thoughts, he said, are independent existences, they exist only as elements, moments, factors, in one organic whole. The universum of Spinoza is an abstract infinity, in which all differences are lost ; that of Hegel is a concrete whole, under which all conceivable differences are subsumed. Doubtless with Hegel the principle of unity was spiritual, it underlies all antagonisms and fulfils itself in and through them. Doubtless also he taught that as Absolute Spirit comes to consciousness in the facts of history, so the highest idea of God is found in the Christian religion. In it God goes out of Himself in Incarnation and returns to Himself in Eternal Spirit. But the bearing of his fundamental principles upon religion has been differ¬ ently understood by his followers. Interpreters of Hegel still discuss whether they are consistent with true Chris¬ tianity, or even with Theism in any form. The affinities of his system are unquestionably pantheistic, but a great philosopher, like a great poet, refuses to be classified and labelled after the nomenclature of the schools. Hegel was one of the masters of those who know; his influence has been felt in every department of thought — philosophy, science, art, religion. He has done more perhaps than any other thinker to imbue the few, who in turn have sought to influence the many, with the central doctrine of the Immanence of God in the world. But with him also immanence amounted to identification, dynamically though not statically, by process of becoming, not by actuality of being. We cannot be surprised, therefore, to find that the modern doctrine of immanence, as emphasised by many professed theists, is stamped with Hegel’s impress and carries its advocates to conclusions which are theistic only in name. 256 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES II It is not the object of this paper to illustrate this fact in detail. But the neo-Hegelian school of thought in this country, as represented by the distinguished trio, the brothers Caird and T. H. Green, has influenced religion even more than philosophy, and it may perhaps not unfairly be said that they have sought to find adequate intellectual expression for devout feeling and ethical principles to guide moral action, on the basis of a philo¬ sophical system, which, if consistently carried out, would make both ethics and religion unreal. Happily the rigidity of a philosophical system is apt to give way at critical points under the pressure of felt spiritual needs. These able writers have exercised a potent influence for good, not only in resisting materialism, but in purifying and elevating current ideas of God. But as the doctrine of Divine Immanence has been largely disseminated through their influence it is important to ask in what exact form they have maintained it. The late Master of Balliol in his earlier series of Gifford Lectures lays it down that we are now shut up to the alternative, either that there is no God, or that the revela¬ tion of God must be sought in the whole process of nature and history, regarded as a development which finds its culminating expression in the life of man as spiritual being. For him God is a self -revealing Spirit, whose revelation reaches its culmination in the intellectual and moral life of man. As rational beings, our life is circum¬ scribed by three ideas — that of self or the subject, that of the not-self or the object, and that of 44 the unity which is pre-supposed in the difference of the self and the not-self, and within which they act and re -act on each other — in other words, the idea of God.” The true idea of the infinite, we are told, is that of the unity which reveals itself in all the differences of the finite, and which through all these differences remains in unity with itself. It is impossible, says Dr. Edward Caird, for moderns to recall the attitude of the pure monotheist. 44 We cannot think THE HOLY SPIRIT 257 of the infinite Being as external to that which it has made. We cannot think of Him as external to anything, least of all to the spiritual beings who as such live, move and have their being in Him. This idea of the immanence of God underlies the Christian conception. . . . We may reject religion, or we may accept it, but we cannot accept it except in this form.” 1 The form, that is, of a God who is the unity of all finite differences — selves and not-selves, good and evil — which is 4 4 not external to anything ” and to which nothing is external. A theist will surely hesitate before accepting such definitions as these as furnishing 44 the only religion possible for the modern mind.” Dr. John Caird, in his Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion, urges the necessity of religion in the sense that there is that in man as an intelligent being which forces him to rise above the material and finite and to rest no¬ where short of 44 an Infinite, all-comprehending Mind.” This does not mean, however, an Almighty Creator, or an All-wise Designer and Governor of the world, for such a conception is 44 essentially dualistic.” Instead of this 44 lower conception ” of God, he presents the idea of 44 a Thought or Self-consciousness which is beyond all indivi¬ dual selves, which is the unity of all individual selves and their objects, of all thinkers and of all objects of thought.” Such terms as Maker, Father, Ruler, Judge, when used of God, are not exact equivalents of spiritual realities, they only 44 suggest, or in the way of imaginative indication awaken in us, the conception of spiritual things.” The writer rejects Pantheism as he understands it because it reduces nature, man and God to a blank colourless identity. What is needed, he says, is 44 a principle in the light of which we can see that God is all in all without denying reality to the finite world and to every individual human spirit, or without denying it except in so far as it involves a life apart from God — a spurious independence which is not the protection, but the destruction of all spiritual life.” 2 The crucial phrase evidently here is 44 apart from 1 The Evolution of Religion, vol. i. p. 196. 2 Op. cit., p. 221. See also pp. 80, 81 ; 149 ; 175, 176. S 258 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES God.” What is meant by God being “ the unity of all individual selves and their objects ? ” Or by rejecting the terms Maker, Father, Judge, in favour of one which makes God even now to be 44 all in all ” in a world full of dis¬ obedience and sin ? The treatment adopted by Dr. John Caird in another series of lectures on the 44 Fundamental Ideas of Christianity,” in which the problem of evil is dealt with, gives but a halting answer to these questions. Moral life is represented as the renunciation of the private or exclusive self and the identification of our life with an ever-widening sphere of spiritual life beyond us. What is called evil is but the passing shadow of 44 the finite unduly concentrated upon itself, instead of losing itself inthe infinite life which is seeking to realise itself in us.” From such im¬ manence transcendence is virtually excluded, and God as the unity of all individual selves and their objects takes up into Himself the transient evil, as well as the permanent good. But this aspect of the subject will meet us again later. The influence of T. H. Green at Oxford a generation ago was that of a noble personality and an inspiring teacher. By his vigorous protest against naturalism in philosophy and utilitarianism in ethics he left his mark on the thought of this country during the last decades of the nineteenth century. But his religious teaching was vague and indefinite at the very point where clearness is most neces¬ sary. His analysis of voluntary action and the operation of motives in morals is illuminating, but when he describes the relation of human selves to that Eternal Self-conscious¬ ness which is central to his system, it is difficult to follow him. We read for example of 44 a consciousness for which the relations of fact that form the object of our gradually attained knowledge already eternally exist ; and the grow¬ ing knowledge of the individual is a progress towards this consciousness.” Again, we are asked to conceive of 44 a consciousness which is operative throughout the succession of all things . . . and which at the same time realises itself through them,” and 44 the conditions under which the eternal consciousness reproduces itself in our knowledge.” 1 1 Prolegomena to Ethics, pp. 75, 77. THE HOLY SPIRIT 259 If we ask what is meant by the Eternal Self realising itself in the individual human spirit, it is not very helpful to read, 44 To say that God is the final cause of the moral life, the ideal self which no one as a moral agent is, but which every one as such an agent is seeking (however blindly) to become, is not to make Him unreal. ... It is in a sense to identify Him with man. . . . The identity claimed for man with God is an identity of self with self. . . . God is identical with the self of every man in the sense of being the realisation of its determinate possibilities . . . the final reality to which all our possibilities are relative.” 1 The idea expressed here is not very easy to grasp, but probably the author’s approving description of Hegel’s position practically describes his own. 44 That there is one self-conscious being, of which all that is real is the activity or expression ; that we are related to this spiritual being, not merely as parts of the world which is its expres¬ sion, not as partakers in some inchoate measure of the self- consciousness through which it at once constitutes and dis¬ tinguishes it from the world ; that this participation is the source of morality and religion; this we take to be the vital truth which Hegel had to teach.” 2 That this is a doctrine of Divine Immanence is obvious, whether it can be made consistent with Theism is questionable. The self-consciousness here described is both human and divine, the finite consciousness partaking 44 in some inchoate measure ” with the eternal. If the divine consciousness is explained wholly in terms of the human, we are brought to practical atheism; if the human is explained in terms of the divine, the result is virtual Pantheism. Green attempts to avoid both horns of the dilemma. He held that 44 the world is as necessary to God as God is to the world.” 3 But his speculative idealism, like that of John and Edward Caird, shelves the difficulty only by a confusion of thought as to the relation between the finite and the Eternal self-consciousness which has never been satisfactorily removed. 1 Works, vol. iii. pp. 225, 226, 227. 2 Ibid., p. 246. 3 See Rashdall, Philosophy and Religion, p. 30. 260 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES The tendency here manifested to sacrifice transcendence to immanence, to merge the divine in the human, to pro¬ claim the doctrine of “ the divinity of man and the humanity of God,” might be illustrated from other diverse quarters. Eucken can hardly be placed in this category. He has rendered immense service in Germany to the cause of spiritual religion. His opposition to bare Intellectualism, his insistence upon the life of the human spirit as one whole in its long history of toiling, suffering, believing, energising effort, his contention that the Eternal is here within the temporal, that the divine is present within human existence, have opened new doors of religious faith and hope for many. He admits certain main character¬ istics of Christianity as features of abiding religion. But it is a new Christianity that he seeks, one that has cast off the old, narrow 44 anthropomorphic and mythological ” methods and that is broad enough to embrace the whole of life. Eucken sympathises with certain tentative Pantheistic movements of to-day and could not accept a Christianity which did not display a similar breadth of outlook. It is here that he is least clear and his teaching begins to be dubious. He recognises that the mystery of life implies two powers, God and man, but in his Activism the relation between the two is too vaguely characterised. Another illustration may be taken from a different movement in Continental religious thought. The Modernist school in the Roman Catholic Church were accused in the Encyclical Pascendi Gregis of teaching the doctrine of 44 religious immanence,” resolving religion entirely into a movement of the human spirit God wards. The charge was unfairly presented and pressed, but in the reply put forward by representative men in the 44 Pro¬ gramme of Modernism,” it is to a certain extent admitted and 44 the immanental tendency ” is accepted as a funda¬ mental tenet of Modernist philosophy. Some leading Modernists assert the principle in such a fashion as to de¬ stroy the very foundations of authority in religion. But it is not fair to attribute to Modernism as a whole the char¬ acteristics of some Modernists, the movement known by THE HOLY SPIRIT 261 this name being as yet inchoate and indeterminate, its leaders professing to do no more than grope their way towards a synthesis for which the time is not yet ripe. Another example of the way in which the idea of Divine immanence may be carried so far as to pervert the idea of religion is found in a writer who practically resolves the idea of Deity into social order. He is but putting in plain terms what many half-consciously hold. “ A person’s idea of God may be taken as comprehending the highest ideal interests known or felt by him. . . . The idea of God, when seriously employed, seems to generalise and to idealise all the values one knows.” For the plain man, “ God is the biggest word he knows. The reality answer¬ ing to the idea of God must include at its best all that is involved in the deep instinctive historical and social consciousness of the race.” 1 Immanence without tran¬ scendence must end thus. The “ Eternal Consciousness ” which only realises itself in finite self-consciousness soon becomes only a name for the collective ideals of the indivi¬ dual and of the race ; and, as Dr. Ames’s book abundantly proves, on this hypothesis the very name and idea of God becomes superfluous and need seldom be, as he expresses it, “ seriously employed.” Ill The issues thus raised are clearly bound up with those which concern the exact meaning and the truth of Monism. Some forms of Monism are distinctly antitheistic, or at best agnostic, but the word and the idea of unity for which it stands evidently exercise a fascination for some theistic thinkers. Science, we are told, demands Monism ; philo¬ sophy cannot dispense with it. “ A Monism of some sort is inevitable,” we read; if theism is not monistic, it is doomed. A discussion of the meaning of the word Monism, therefore, is clearly not a mere logomachy. Its frequent use appears to us unfortunate because it is so ambiguous. It covers views which differ as widely as those of Hegel, 1 K Scribner Ames, The Psychology of Religious Experience, pp. 31-3, 318. 262 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Hackel and Huxley. It is now being adopted by some sincere Theists in a sense which would be repudiated by Idealist, Materialist and Agnostic alike. Professor James Ward says, “ Once Materialism is abandoned and Dualism found untenable, a spiritualistic Monism remains the one stable position.” 1 But what is meant by 44 Dualism ” here ? for Dr. Ward admits “duality.” And what precisely is meant by Monism ? One only Substance, or one Being, or one Cause, or one Will, or one Purpose ? All the varied phenomena of the universe are to be deduced from one single principle, but everything depends on the meaning of “ principle.” The materialist understands by it one substance, which he terms matter, but finds it impossible to define, or defend as the source and origin of mind. Naturalism improves upon this position by assuming one 44 substance ” with two 44 aspects,” material and spiritual. Neither of these can be resolved into the other, but by the aid of a principle of 44 psycho-physical parallelism ” the advocate of naturalism rejoices to style himself a Monist. Matter, he says, is extended substance, spirit is sensitive and thinking substance, but these are only two attributes of one all-embracing substance, which is self-explanatory, self-contained and self-sufficing, the all-embracing essence of the world. John Caird as a representative of idealistic Monism urges that no philosophy can be 44 dualistic,” that all true philosophy rests on the pre-supposition that 44 there is in the universe no absolute or irreconcilable division, no breach of continuity, no element which in its hard irreducible independence is incapable of being embraced in the intelligible system of things.” Such Monism rests upon the idea of one system — a very different thing from one substance. Dr. Schurman in his Belief in God speaks of 44 the unity and universal inner connection of all reality; ” and surely no sane man will deny the existence of such unity, however it is explained. Sir Oliver Lodge, pointing out that the idea of Monism is as old as Parmenides, says that the name should be understood of 44 any system which seeks to 1 Naturalism and Agnosticism, Pref. p. x. THE HOLY SPIRIT 263 exhibit all the complexities of existence, both material and mental — the whole of phenomena, both objective and subjective — as modes of manifestation of one fundamental reality” 1 We have italicised one clause, because on the exact interpretation of these words everything depends. As they stand, they are almost self-condemned, but later we read that all philosophy aims at being monistic in the sense that no careful thinker can be contented with “ a permanent antinomy — a universe compounded of two or more irreconcilable and entirely disparate and disconnected agencies — a kind of permanent Manichaeism.” In that form the assertion of the unity of the universe is to-day almost a truism. Are the two alternatives — a Dualism which posits two irreconcilable and entirely disconnected agencies, and a Monism which makes all phenomena to be mere modes of manifestation of one fundamental reality — exhaustive ? Does either adequately represent the facts of experience ? It is the old problem of the One and the many re-appearing in another form ; does Monism, in any strictly interpreted sense of the word, solve it ? Naturalistic Monism has been condemned by Professor Ward and others on just grounds. Matter and motion, if allowed to be eternal existences, do not account for the present cosmos : they cannot explain the origin of mind and consciousness ; or the emergence of the living from the non-living ; the mechanical explanation of nature has been weighed and found wanting. Only rational spirit can account for the ordered universe. But is idealistic Monism tenable ? Mind cannot be resolved into matter, can matter be resolved into mind ? Doubtless science is approaching that position ; “ matter ” is now, for the scientific man, only the name of a form of energy, and energy is best known to man as mind. But the chasm, though narrow, has not been, and may never be, bridged. For human thought the relative dualism holds of mind and matter, subject and object, self and the world, self and other selves, self and God, good and evil. In each pair the two elements must be kept distinct, though they may not be 1 Life and Matter, p. 7. 264 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES separate, and they may, or may not, be opposed to one another. As Dr. James Ward says, in the Cartesian philosophy mind and matter were not only disparate, but absolutely separate and mutually independent. Such dualism is incredible to-day, no such impassable gulf is fixed, dividing one part of experience from another. But distinctness must be preserved ; idealistic Monism, implying an Absolute Mind that makes the partial facts by thinking them, is inadequate to explain experience. Relative Dual¬ ism must not be explained away, and if Dr. Ward would establish a “ spiritual Monism ” passing from “ a world of spirits to a Supreme Spirit as a possible step,” he must carefully explain how that one step is to be taken, for all religion and nearly all morality may depend upon his answer. Nature is one organic whole ; no one is likely to contest that position. It presupposes one Ground of existence; few will hesitate to admit so much. Theists believe that the universe necessarily implies one Cause, one supreme Intelligence, one originating and all-controlling Mind, and if Monism is understood to mean no more than this, all theists are spiritual Monists. But in using the terms one substance, one pervading essence, mani¬ festations of one abiding reality, another region of speculation is entered. Theism is in no danger to-day from Deism or Dualism, though some popular forms of speech may still preserve anthropomorphic ideas that imply both. But in the recoil from the 44 Carpenter- theory,” from the idea of God as a mere Divine Artificer, the perils of contemporary theism lie in an opposite direction. A 44 spiritual Monism ” is put forward which finds in the phenomenal world 44 one sole element revealed in two aspects, material and spiritual.” The material side is simply the expression of spirit, and in the universe as a whole the unifying principle is the 44 Divine Mind that is in some measure expressing itself in every¬ thing.” 1 The whole problem lies in the interpretation of 1 See W. L. Walker, Christian Theism and a Spiritual Monism, p. 203 — a thoughtful and valuable book, with the general tenor of which the writer is in hearty sympathy. THE HOLY SPIRIT 265 the phrase “ in some measure.” Unless the distinction between God and the universe be carefully preserved, the distinction between finite selves — between a Jesus and a Judas, as Bowne expresses it — above all, the distinction between good and evil, so that evil be not explained away, or resolved into the shadow of good, moral and spiritual confusion become inevitable. The term Monism lends itself to this confusion. When the transcendence of God in relation to the universe is ignored, or merged in a doctrine of Immanence, Monism may be triumphant, but a cardinal doctrine of theism has disappeared and the submergence of true religion cannot be far distant. The Pluralism of William James and others is best understood as a protest against Absolute Idealism and the prevalent tendency to Monism. It is hardly likely to make much headway on its own merits. The view of the universe that ultimate reality consists of an eternal system of many selves or minds, independent and co-ordinate, with no absolute unity realised either in the origin, or the course, of things, seems too preposterous to be seriously held. It has arisen, and is now put forward, by a few responsible and able thinkers, in strong reaction against the monistic habits of thought which distort reality by engulfing important distinctions. Some scientific men reach Monism by disregarding all aspects of reality except their own (very useful) abstract formulae, termed laws of nature. Philosophers rebuke this narrowness, and rightly point to a whole world of facts and ideas which physical science cannot reach, because they do not come within the scope of her method. But philosophy is apt, in turn, to become narrow and dogmatic, because it is predominantly intellectualistic, and idealistic philosophers need to be reminded of fundamental facts in the experience of reality which their unifying principle has either neglected, or stretched out of all shape on a Procrustes’ bed of monistic theory. Hence the appearance and temporary popularity of Pragmatism and Pluralism. It is Life with which human thought is concerned, life in all its vastness, com¬ plexity, variety and beauty; not a system of mechanical 266 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES forces alone, nor a system of mere manifestations of one underlying substance, but the whole world of nature and a whole inconceivably vast world of finite spirits, each with its own measure of self-determination, self-direction, and self-control. True unity is never gained by denying, or ignoring, real distinctions, but by preserving and transcend¬ ing them. He who begins with 44 God’s all, man’s nought,” must go on to recognise that the God 44 whose pleasure brought man into being, stands away “ As it were a handbreadth off, to give Room for the neAvly made to live.” No true unity for the universe is to be found in Divine Immanence, if the phrase be understood either in a quasi- Pantheistic, or strictly Monistic sense. A God who is not distinct from the universe, as well as present in the universe, is no God at all. IV Theism does not seek arbitrarily to combine immanence and transcendence. It asserts that, rightly understood, these two words must be combined to describe God’s relation to the universe, that they are mutually implied, mutually necessary, if the names “ God ” and “ Universe ” are to be maintained in their proper meaning. But Transcendence comes first. In the idea of God this characteristic is paramount, supreme. Every sound argu¬ ment for the existence of God points to His incomparable excellence, by which He surpasses all finite things and persons, and all of these collectively. The so-called 44 proofs ” of the existence of God do not demonstrate His being, but their value lies in their power to point towards a transcendent deity. Whether we take the idea of Cause, or of Thought, or of Order, or of Purpose, or of Truth, or of Goodness, the phenomena of the Universe as we know it imply and demand, if they do not actually demonstrate, the existence of a Being who is above and beyond the finite, the imperfect, the temporal and transient. The logic which teaches that the very perception of limits implies a power in thought to transcend them and enables THE HOLY SPIRIT 267 us from a knowledge of time to infer eternity, from a knowledge of finite and relative good to gain a positive conception of God Infinite and Absolute, teaches the transcendence of God, if it teaches anything. A God who is wholly in the universe is lost in the universe, and the name Deity becomes superfluous. It is perfectly true that in these relations there is more than we can explain, in the usual sense of that word. Ultimates cannot be 44 explained.” But man’s experience of his own relation to the world around him should enable him to find this double relation of God to the world con¬ ceivable and rational. Each man’s spirit dwells in, yet immeasurably surpasses, the body it inhabits, each man’s own consciousness enables him at the same time to under¬ stand and to transcend the cosmos around him. The very meaning of a Self — understood by all, yet inexplicable in words — implies a will or mind entering into the order of which it forms a part, while at the same time immeasurably above it. And, though this familiar but wonderful fact of human experience furnishes but a faint analogy of the relation between God and the universe, it makes possible the conception which is urged upon us from a thousand sides of a Being who infinitely transcends the universe, all the forms and forces and changes of which He directs and controls, and every part of which He informs and inhabits. God as identical with nature, God as severed from nature, are two opposed ideas, equally incredible, if there be a living God at all. The infinity which the Theist asserts of God does not absorb the finite. A Pantheist cannot declare himself to be a Pantheist without a measure of contradiction, for the thinker remains outside his own theory of existence. If he denies this, he is, as Martineau has expressed it, like 44 a fire-worshipper putting out his eyes to glorify the light.” Every kind of Monism which suppresses human personality is to be distrusted. Whether it be viewed as a mode of the Absolute, which 44 expresses itself ” in finite consciousness ; or whether, with Malebranche, man so sees all things in God that his consciousness is but a part of 268 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES God’s consciousness of Himself : or whether, with Theodore Parker, it is held that God works immediately in the faculties of every man; in every case the true nature of human personality — its knowledge, affection, will and activity — is lost, and the relation between God and the creature misinterpreted. But the true relation can only be set forth by those who believe in the personality of God, and it is said that to ascribe personality to the Infinite is to limit it. The fallacy of the last statement has often been exposed. The God of the Theist is not the Infinite or the Absolute of those metaphysicians for whom the Infinite is unlimited because indeterminate, an infinite and absolute Blank. Neither is the God of the Theist personal with the imperfections of human personality. He is not the “ magnified non-natural man ” of Matthew Arnold, but the only true, that is the only Infinite, Person¬ ality in existence, possessing in absolute perfection the powers of knowing, willing, loving, which men in their infinitesimal degree possess and understand. Is God finite ? If it be limiting God to say that He is not all things that are not He, that He cannot be distinguished in thought from other beings, then He is finite. To describe Him as infinite for the sake of multiplying predi¬ cates concerning Him, whatever their character, would be to degrade the infinite indeed. God is viewed as per¬ sonal because that is the highest kind of being we know. This implies the limitation, if so it must be called, of not being impersonal, or of not being supra-personal in any sense that would rob Him of the characteristics of person¬ ality in all its perfection. God is infinite. But He is finite in the sense of being self-limited; and in the moral world self-limitation, when it takes place for worthy ends, is unspeakably higher than unlimited self-expression. God has brought the universe into existence, and He is limited in the sense that He is not the universe and the universe is not He, though it is utterly and always dependent on Him. He is limited in the sense that He has brought finite personalities into THE HOLY SPIRIT 269 existence, whose personality He respects as possessed of a relative independence of will, with which He has endowed them. It is God’s own will that thus it should be, and He is not bound, not limited, by anything outside His own will. He knows, sustains, directs, controls all finite wills, yet leaves them within their own limits to realise and develop their own being. He is infinite, not only in the sense that He is perfect in power, in knowledge, in holiness, in love, but in His own essential being He unspeakably transcends the Universe — to us so inconceivably vast — which He has called into existence. And because He transcends, He at the same time surrounds, upholds, per¬ vades His own universe, yet so as to preserve to every part of it the essential characteristics which He has bestowed on each, including the distinctness from Himself and the relative independence of will and action with which He has endowed all finite spirits. There is no contradiction here. Only a right understanding of the way in which God surpasses creation makes it possible to conceive of His informing and inhabiting the whole. Only a transcendent God can be immanent, in the fullest and richest sense, throughout the whole of such a Universe as is being slowly and imperfectly unfolded to human ken. If these things be so, whether were it truer, to say that all things are in God, or that God is in all things ? Roth these are modes of setting forth an absolutely unique relation, and either may be regarded as true, or as mis¬ leading, according to the meaning given to it. The name Panentheism, originated by Krause, which expresses the idea that all things are in God, has never gained currency. Dr. Inge would revive the word, holding that the doctrine 44 in its true form is an integral part of Christian philosophy and, indeed, of all rational theology.” It is best expressed in the words of St. Paul, 44 in Him we live and move and have our being.” But the meaning of the word 44 in ” needs to be defined and not all would agree with Dr. Weymouth’s paraphrase of it, 44 in closest union with Him.” St. Paul says elsewhere, 44 Of Him and through and unto Him are all things ” — a great saying in which transcend- 270 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES ence and immanence are not only combined, but the meaning of their combination is shown. “ God in us ” may lead to a kind of absurd self-deification, which Mr. Chesterton has rather brutally, but not unfairly, cari¬ catured, by saying that it means “ Jones worshipping Jones.” All things are in God may mean, as it was interpreted by some Christian Fathers, bathed in an ocean, as a net in the sea, upborne by an atmosphere, without which we could not breathe or move. Sir Oliver Lodge varies the figure — “We are the white corpuscles in the blood of the Cosmos, we do serve, and form part of, an immanent Deity.” But these physical analogies are for the most part misleading. The relation of the Supreme Spirit to finite spirits can be but dimly set forth by modes of speech derived from a world of space and from relations perceived and defined by the senses. Crude ideas of God as plastic substance, as ground or basis of existence, as a fount of emanations, as a self -transforming energy, must be surren¬ dered when men are wondering how “ spirit with spirit can meet.” Reality consists, as Lotze has said, in the living spirit of God and the world of personal spirits that He has created — we may add, and in the world of nature, however constituted, which is a medium of communication between spirits. Man is not “ in God,” nor is God “ in man,” as those phrases are sometimes understood. Wor¬ ship implies two beings, communion implies a relation between two ; love, trust, and obedience are not to be explained away as anthropomorphic. But the Infinite embraces the finite, not the finite the Infinite. The Power which brought the universe into being and sustains it, both in its several parts and as one organic indissoluble whole, encompasses all, not merely from without, but from within. The universe is not absorbed by the Deity, but upheld by Him, as the infinitely Transcendent Being ever maintains that to which He has granted distinct, though not independent, existence. Such a view is truly theistic. It better explains the facts of human experience and more fully satisfies the religious needs of man than theories which seek to THE HOLY SPIRIT 271 “ simplify ” existence by omitting many of its essential features. Y The Bible is not a book of philosophy, or of science, but of religion. As such it occupies a place of its own, and those who receive it as a revelation of religious truth are not bound to accept any particular system of scientific or philosophical belief. But the Bible sheds the light of religion on all subjects. A W eltanss chaining, a certain characteristic view of God and the world, forms a background to the teaching of Christianity, and the adequacy of this to account for human experience and to meet the highest and deepest spiritual needs of men forms one of the claims of that religion upon human allegiance. Undoubtedly progress is discernible in the history of revelation recorded in the Bible, and earlier views of God held by Israel passed away like shadows at the dawning of the fuller light. But these, though in some respects crude, did their own work of preparation, and they are still not without significance, teaching many lessons of history to subsequent generations. The Biblical view of the world rests on a basis of Theism. The existence of God is assumed, not proved or debated. “In the beginning — God” is the exordium of the whole, whatever chapter was written first and whatever its immediate subject. The marked anthropomorphisms which characterise the earlier, and to some extent the later, narratives seldom degrade the majesty of the Divine Presence, while they enhance its reality and significance. Especially does the general cast of the narratives lay stress on the transcendence of God. Rightly so, for He is the I AM, the first and the last, holy is He. The very meaning of these simply sublime words was not at first discerned, but the revelation which so markedly emphasised the transcendence of Deity taught also His immanence in the world and among men. The Old Testament, by its lessons concerning Divine communion, mediation, and those various manifestations in which God drew near to men and 272 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES drew men near to Him, prepared the way for the fuller light of a new covenant and for the distinctive teaching concerning God which is characteristic of Christianity. It is not necessary to dwell upon this preparation in detail. The doctrine of the Trinity does not in any sense belong to the Old Covenant. No indication of any belief in interior distinctions in the Godhead appears in the Old Testament. The Spirit of God is not distinguished from God ; the expression simply means God at work in the world. As the eye and the hand of God are Himself beholding and guiding, so the breath of His energy moves both upon and within nature and man, in creation and preservation, in art and government, in inspiration and moral elevation. “ There is a spirit in man and the breath of the Almighty giveth him understanding.” The Divine Wisdom is the master-workman, in and through whom God established the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth, who rejoiced in Llis habitable earth and whose delight was with the sons of men. The Divine Word was the living power by which the will of the Almighty was expressed and operated. “ By the word of the Lord were the heavens made and all the host of them by the breath of His mouth.” The time came when both the Word and the Wisdom of God acquired a fuller meaning. Philo blends the living, speaking Word of God, as Israel understood it, with the eternal Reason immanent in the world familiar to Greek thought. It was not by accident that one word, koyog, combined the meanings “ reason ” and “ speech,” and it became easy to think of such reason as both ivdiadezog, immanent, and nQocpoQixog, proceeding. The idea of the latter distinction is present in Philo, though not the actual words which express it. Christianity is not a philosophy, nor is it based on any philosophical system. It is a religion, based on historical facts and on faith in an interpretation of those facts as of eternal significance and value. It was not the metaphysic of Philo which taught St. John how to write the prologue of his Gospel, though the Evangelist uses the phrase of the Alexandrian Jew as if it were familiar to his readers. It THE HOLY SPIRIT 273 was the glory of the only-begotten Son, full of grace and truth, beheld and adored, which impelled him to describe how the Eternal Word was made flesh and tabernacled among men. A doctrine of Divine Immanence, as held by Christians, begins with the Incarnation. Here is an In¬ dwelling of God in history which sheds light both upon past and future. It was the Eternal Word of God, the Eternal Son of God, who took mortal flesh. It was the same Word, through whom all things were made, who turned the shadow of death into morning, whose light shone on through the darkness in the breast of every man, whose life was the light of men and the darkness overcame it not ; — the same God, who never left Himself without witness, but who in and through things visible made manifest the invisible, even His everlasting power and Godhead ; — the same God who had always been unspeakably near to men whilst they were dimly feeling after Him if haply they might find Him; — the same God who in Christ took up His abode among men as had never been possible before. To the Christian, immanence without incarnation is utterly inadequate. God cannot be personally immanent in stars and suns, in rocks and streams, in trees and flowers, in leviathan and behemoth — these are His works, His robe, not Himself. A holy God could not be personally immanent in sinful men, though even these were never left without the strivings, the drawings, the leadings of His Spirit. Another kind of manifestation, another kind of indwelling, than had hitherto been known, must be granted if God is to dwell with men in very deed. And so, if men would see God as He is in man and for man, they must turn to the Word made flesh, for here dwells the nhrjQcojua of the Godhead bodily. There is no room for the “fulness” of His personal presence in “ nature ” around us. But to man nature is empty indeed if it contain no message concerning the divine mind and heart, God’s will and purpose for men, if there be no voice crying “ O heart I made, a heart beats here ! ” Men had longed for such an articulate voice and in Christ it is heard. As much of the glory of God as could inhabit the seas and the T 274 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES mountains, and as much as the heart and history of man¬ kind could contain, had been dwelling in them through the ages, but in the Son of Man that more complete imman¬ ence is realised which is only possible in ideal manhood. “ God may have other words for other worlds, But for this world the Word of God is Christ.” More than this. Ideal manhood cannot save. An example cannot atone, nor a picture of excellence purify. Such a race as mankind, with its sins and struggles and sorrows, needs a divine indwelling of a closer and deeper kind. A Christ without the Cross ceases to be a Saviour. He touches the surface, not the quick of the wound; the fringe, not the core of man’s actual state and needs. Holy love in uttermost self-sacrifice for the highest spiritual ends — no more lofty note than this has ever been struck, or can be struck, in human history. If this is the very heart of God, to bring it home to men were indeed an everlasting Gospel. This is done in Christ and in Him alone, and the very fact makes Him to be the centre and pivot of history, the focus in which all the rays of divine glory converge. He it is who makes it possible for men to believe in, and realise, a closer indwelling still. Such closer abiding was promised by Christ, and His promises have been realised beyond all possible expecta¬ tion at the time when they were spoken. God in nature and conscience and history, God manifest in perfect man¬ hood, God in self-sacrifice for human redemption — these stages of revelation were to prepare the way for the full realisation of God in men by the Holy Spirit. The teach¬ ing of the New Testament concerning the Holy Spirit is very familiar, some of its phrases have been so well worn that they have lost their significance for many ears, but the Church of Christ has never yet completely assimilated this doctrine. Largely perhaps, because appropriation in this case can only come through experience, not through intellectual acceptance. Yet all that is meant by divine indwelling finds its climax in the doctrine of the Holy Spirit fully present in the hearts of the Church THE HOLY SPIRIT 275 and potentially of all mankind. The Spirit was not fully given before Christ’s work was done, because only then could the real meaning and method of the divine presence be understood, only then could the fulness of the divine power be realised. To the philosopher dealing only with intellectual categories this doctrine may be a stumbling- block; to men and women who know actual life and are anxious to realise “ life indeed,” it is salvation. What light is shed by the Christian doctrine of the Holy Spirit upon the problems of the transcendence and imman¬ ence of God ? It might be shown, though the expansion of the arguments cannot be attempted here, (1) that the doctrine of the Trinity makes it possible to avoid both the severance of the Deity from the universe which is character¬ istic of Deism and the merging of the Deity in the universe which is avowed in Pantheism and implied in many systems that do not bear the name. (2) The doctrine of the Holy Spirit admits of those varying measures of Divine Imman¬ ence in the world and in men which philosophy disdains to recognise, but which the facts of life demand. Imman¬ ence as taught by philosophy explains away sin, regards evil as necessary to good, and even so, provides no means for the removal of such measure of evil as exists. (3) Christianity teaches that, so far as man is concerned, real Divine indwelling is yet to come and that the Spirit of Christ alone can bring it to pass. In the heart of the believer when it is completely penetrated by Divine grace, in a purified Church when it is filled with the Spirit, in a renewed world when the Kingdom of Christ has fully come — Divine 44 immanence ” will be realised in a deeper than the philosophical sense. (4) Indefinite room is left for the fuller development because the very presence of the Holy Spirit implies the possibility of endless progress of thought and achievement along the lines which Christ laid down. Christ’s work was but begun when He left the earth ; even after two thousand years it would seem to be but in its infancy. 44 He shall glorify Me,” 44 He shall guide you into all the truth,” 44 He shall be with you and be in you,” were the words with which our Lord indicated T 2 276 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES the closer and more intijmate “ tabernacling ” of God with men which was to begin when His own sojourn on earth was ended. The world still awaits 44 the Christ that is to be,” when the Holy Spirit shall have consummated that work of continuing the Incarnation which it is His function to accomplish. Such thoughts as these it would require a treatise to develop. But it must be borne in mind that the God of the Christian is not a bare numerical unit; His Unity is enriched by the mutual relations of three subsistences, distinct yet not separate, and this threefoldness makes it easier to conceive of His relations with the universe and especially with mankind. The Christian God, to use an expression of Dr. Fairbairn’s, is 44 a unity which is the home of distinctions, the distinction not dissolving the unity, nor the unity cancelling the distinctions.” Hence God is related to the universe, not as an abstraction but as a Person ; a Person, however, that is not a single, atomistic, undifferentiated entity, but is Himself the organic union of internal distinctions and relations, which make varied relations to the universe possible. God as Will, as Wisdom, as Love, cannot be regarded as an abstraction, neither can He be viewed as dependent upon the universe which He has brought into being. A personal, ethical God cannot be regarded as a mere Ground of existence, a Basis on which to rest the structure of a complex cosmos, or a mere Eternal Thinker of an eternally realised thought. If a living God is to inform and inhabit all orders of being as these are becoming increasingly known to us, it must be because His own nature is rich and various as the Christian religion, not as idealistic philosophy, unfolds it. The Immanence of the Divine Spirit in a world of spirits must be marked by various grades and measures. A fixed, uniform, undiscriminating relationship such as philosophy contemplates becomes meaningless where moral and spiritual life is concerned. In logic, in mathematics, in physical science, in metaphysics, we are moving in the region of abstractions; man has to do with life. Distinctions need to be made in the use of such a word as immanence, THE HOLY SPIRIT 277 if it is to be employed in religion and the doctrine of the Holy Spirit enables us to make them. God’s relation to inorganic existence has become increasingly clear, as we have learned the essential spirituality of what is called matter and discern it to be a vehicle of self-expression, a medium of communication between minds. The nearer relation of the Divine Being to organic life through a long biological history is described by Browning, as only a poet could describe it, in a well-known passage of his Paracelsus , which we must not quote. He tells how God “ tastes an infinite joy in infinite ways ” through all the ascending scale of sentient being; how He “ dwells in all, from life’s beginnings up at last to man,” seeking through all stages of creation “ some point where all those scattered rays should meet ” and He finds them “ convergent in the faculties of man.” But it is here that the difficulties are greatest. It is just because man is highest in capacity that he is most in danger of abusing his powers ; it is because he is trusted above all creatures with the power of self-determination, that the direst consequences attend unfaithfulness. Corruptio optimi pessima. Here the problem of evil raises riddles to which all the philosophies find no answer. “ Will God in very deed dwell with man upon the earth ? ” is a question which receives new import if it implies : Can and will the Most Holy One abide in the hearts of creatures who have sinned and who have no power of self-restoration, perhaps little desire for it ? Christianity gives the only possible answer. God can only be immanent in such a world in proportion as He redeems it ; that is, in holiest love and uttermost self-sacrifice judges the sin and saves the sinner. Then — 0 jelix culpa ! — the closest indwelling of all becomes possible for one who has opened his whole nature to the Redeeming God and enjoyed the fulness of His redemption. For man as conscious being there is a light that lighteth all, and God is not far from every one of us. But for man redeemed by Christ, the body of each is to become a temple of the Holy Ghost and the Church as a whole is builded together for a habitation of God through the Spirit. 278 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES The highest conceivable possibilities for man are thus, and thus only, to be realised. Each man becomes his own highest self in proportion as he yields himself to the indwelling Spirit of God, who is also the Spirit of Christ. Of that ineffable union Dr. Moberly has well said, “ The Spirit is not a mere presence in me, over-ruling, displacing, controlling. What He in me does, I do. What He in me wills, I will. What He in me loves, I love. Never am I, as I, so capable, so personal, so real, as when by the in¬ dwelling Spirit of God I enter into the realisation of myself ... as when in Him and by Him I am at last a true, willing, personal response to the very Being of God.” 1 When heart and mind and soul, redeemed in Christ and renewed by the Holy Spirit, are freely, gladly, entirely yielded to the Divine Indwelling, this is Immanence indeed. VI The full bearings of an acceptance of the doctrine of Divine Immanence cannot as yet be discerned. The idea itself needs to be more closely defined, and a prevailing tendency to exaggerate its significance and to under¬ estimate the meaning of transcendence needs to be modified and restrained. But the effect of a thorough assimilation of such teaching upon all departments of theology must be wholesome and inspiring, and may amount to a complete rejuvenation of its energies. The Church of Christ has never yet done justice to her own doctrine of the Holy Spirit; she has not realised in her general teaching and practice what that doctrine implies and entails. Theism has not fully emancipated itself from the deistic and dualistic tendencies of a hundred years ago, and the newer thoughts of God’s nearness, indwelling and immediate operation may well fructify theological thinking all along the line. Creation cannot now be regarded as an act “ at a point of time,” a making “ out of nothing ” as if an artificer were at work producing an elaborate structure without 1 Atonement and Personality , p. 252. THE HOLY SPIRIT 279 materials, beginning at a given epoch and ceasing when the work was done. Christian thought has been too largely determined by the phraseology of the first chapter of Genesis literally interpreted and too little by its Master’s words, 46 My Father worketh up till now.” The essential idea of creation needs to be retained, but its periods and methods are beyond our ken. Creation is an outflow of Divine energy, springing from the very nature of God Himself, not to be limited by human conceptions and boundary lines. The line of demarcation between natural and super¬ natural will have to be drawn afresh, where it needs to be drawn at all. Widening knowledge of the universe and deepening knowledge of God have made thoughtful men impatient of too sharp a contrast between 44 nature ” and that which is above nature, especially when the very con¬ ceptions of nature are being continually enlarged. Men’s eyes have of late been opened to understand the natural- supernatural and the supernatural-natural. They can no longer bear the intolerable antithesis, 44 Here is nature, where is God ? ” If the doctrine of Divine Immanence means anything it means that neither nature, law, force, established order — 44 nor any other creature,” as St. Paul would have said — shall be permitted to come between the living God and His own universe. 44 Not only is it true that He made it, He is making it. God is making stars and suns to-day and 44 nature ” is fresh every moment from the touch of His wonder-working hand. God has various modes of working, it is true; various modes of communication have been set up between the Divine Spirit and the world of creature spirits through this fine fabric spun out of ether. Some of these modes of working are regularly repeated, others are rare and occasional, while from time to time He utters a voice that is unique of its kind. But 44 if He thunder by law, the thunder is still His voice.” And often when those who stand by say that it thunders, in reality a message from heaven has been given which they had not ears to hear. 44 System of Nature ! ” breaks out Carlyle 280 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES in his impetuous way — 44 To the wisest man, wide as is his vision, nature remains of quite infinite depth, of quite infinite expansion; and all experience thereof limits itself to some few computed centuries and measured square miles.” The numbers of the centuries and the square miles computed have increased indefinitely since those words were written, now nearly a century ago. But they have added to, not subtracted from, the sense of infinitude in the Cosmos. And what science suggests religion con¬ firms and emphasises, that the infinitude is due to the in¬ dwelling and inworking of the infinite God. It is not so easy to trace the Divine handwriting on the pages of human history and of Providence. The very alphabet of the language in which it is written is hard to learn, and of those who can read it, few have got beyond words of one syllable. But at least men ought to know whether the lines are to be read from right to left, or from left to right. At least they may learn, and are learning- not to look for God only in cataclysms and sudden inter, ventions. They may unlearn the doctrine of a blind, relentless fate, or of a hard, mechanical law, without recoiling into fond notions of an absentee Deity, who occasionally wakes from a sleep to smite His enemies, or deliver His favourites. The transcendence of God so mightily enforced by the Calvinist is not the whole truth, but whether the theists of to-day can blend with it the realisation of His immanence, the truth that lies at the heart of Pantheism, without losing their balance on the edge of a dangerous abyss, is not yet perfectly clear. Again, what is meant by Revelation ? It must certainly come 44 from without ” and 44 from above ” if it is to be revelation indeed; men are lost if they are left entirely to their own unaided gropings after light and knowledge. Some measure of truth they can discover, man is so consti¬ tuted that some discoveries will never be made if he does not set to work to make them for himself. But he needs guidance and cannot go far without it. The Divine method of leading men, however, is not easily understood, and we are learning more fully how His guidance is given THE HOLY SPIRIT 281 from within. One chief channel of communication is found in those loftiest souls that Alp-like catch the earliest rays of dawn, men in whom the Divine and the human meet and who give God’s message to their fellows so that the words “ within ” and 44 without ” are both out of place. But the doctrine of immanence is teaching the world afresh that divine messages are vibrating in the air when there are no wires of communication visible, only the receiver must be in tune with the transmitter, or the precious words will be lost because there is none to understand them. Special messages are given, at special times, by specially prepared men, who are not without their own special credentials, but these are sent that it may be the easier to hear the ceaseless music of the divine voice, whose undertones are so near and so constant that men too often become deaf to their meaning. Atonement, sacrifice, salvation, life and death, heaven and hell — which of the great words of religion does not become fraught with new meaning and clothed with new power, when men understand the intimate dwelling in their midst of the very God who is inconceivably above and beyond them, as He is above and beyond the apparently infinite universe of which they form an infinitesimal part ? Of all the words of Christ which His followers at the time and since have failed to understand, one of the most notable is this — 44 The Kingdom of God is ivxog v/ucbv, in your midst and within you.” In proportion to the deepen¬ ing sense of religion in any generation, those words stand out in letters of fire. But the lines of light die down and the words become illegible except in so far as the indwelling Spirit of God is allowed to do His own work of making them plain. The personality of the personal Spirit of God, who is above men as well as within them, and distinct from them even when nearest to them, must above all be preserved in thought if the doctrine of Divine Immanence is not to lose its distinctive character and power. Emerson’s much vaunted doctrine of the Over-soul is flat and feeble in comparison. In one place it is thus expounded. 44 In 282 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES all conversation between two persons tacit reference is made, as to a third party, a common nature. That third party, or common nature, is not social ; it is impersonal ; it is God. . . . The simplest person who in his integrity worships God, becomes God.” 1 God is an impersonal Being who is to be worshipped, and the worshipper himself is to enjoy apotheosis ! Let Augustine the Christian saint, rather than Emerson the New England philosopher, explain the meaning of immanence — the man who writes down the details of his life as if he were in closest conversation with Another, who is not himself, but who is nearer to him than his very self. 44 Without Thee nothing that is could be. Why, then, do I pray that Thou shouldest enter into me, seeing that I also am. For I should not be, if Thou wert not in me. Or rather, I should not be if I were not in Thee, of whom are all things, through whom are all things. . . . What art thou, then, my God, what, I ask, save the Lord God ? Highest, best, most mighty, most merciful, most just; fairest yet strongest ; fixed, yet incomprehensible ; unchangeable, yet changing all things ; never new, yet never aged ; renewing all, yet bringing the haughty into decrepitude and they know it not. Ever busy, yet ever at rest ; gathering, yet never needing ; bearing, filling, guarding ; creating, nourish¬ ing, perfecting; seeking, though thou hast no lack. . . . What can any one say when he speaks of Thee ? And woe to them that praise Thee not, since they who praise Thee most are no better than dumb.” 2 To say that the relation between God and the world, between God and man, is a mystery, and that men should therefore cease to inquire into it, is to utter a truism and a falsehood in a breath. A mystery does not, or should not, mean an unintelligible incredibility ; it does not imply any self-contradiction or any undue strain upon reason or faith. Omnia exeunt in mysterium ; all thoughts and things, all truths and facts, all histories and processes, issue in that which is inadequately comprehended, though it may be 1 Essays, pp. 227., 239, Eversley edition. 2 Confessions, Book 1, chap. 2, 3, 4, Translated by Dr. Bigg. THE HOLY SPIRIT 283 most truly apprehended. The flower in the crannied wall cannot be understood, “root and all, and all in all,” except by Him who alone knows “ what God and man is.” But the great central mystery of the relation between the living God and the living men whom He has made to know Him, is no impenetrable abyss, but an open secret, of which all men know something and the wisest are learning to know more every day. It is the goal of knowledge to which all roads lead and from which all roads stretch out to infinity. Men of science are every hour contributing stores of knowledge which the theologian should rejoice to accept and use. The help of the philosopher can never be dispensed with. But the deepest truths are still often withheld from the wise and prudent and revealed to babes. Some of the hardest questions can only be solved by experience, and for the solution of some problems — para¬ doxical as it sounds — study and speculation are not a help, but a hindrance. “ Veil after veil,” said Sir William Crookes several years ago at the close of his inaugural address as president of the British Association, “has been lifted, and the face of nature grows more beautiful, august and wonderful with every barrier that is withdrawn.” The lifting of the veils reveals not only the face of nature, but the presence of God. Other veils need also to be removed, and One only has appeared among men who can guide to a perfect vision of the Father God. In pro¬ portion as the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ shines clear, it is possible to believe in a God over all and through all and in all here and now; and when the Spirit’s work is completely done and Christ’s kingdom fully come, Divine Immanence shall be 'realised at last, and God shall be all in all. ESSAY IX THE STUDY OF RELIGION Rev. Principal A. E. Garvie, M.A., D.D. SYNOPSIS I. Introductory. (1) The proper attitude of study. (2) The standpoint of this essay determined by the writer’3 personal conviction. (3) Two additional reasons for a sympathetic attitude — the uni¬ versality and the necessity of religion. (4) The questions to be answered. (5) The threefold method of study. II. The Problems of Method. (1) Religions with or without history and literature. (2) Religions national and universal. (3) The unity of religion as shown in the genealogy of religions. (4) Anthropology as comparative in its method. (5) The unwarranted assumption that the religion of savages is identical with primitive religion. (6) Distinction of the anthropological and the psychological question of the origin of religion. (7) The psychological method : (i) The study of the savage; (ii) the study of the child ; (iii) the study of one’s own religious con¬ sciousness ; (iv) the influence of language on religious ideas. (8) The value of religion as a function in the individual and society. (9) The validity of religion as corresponding to objective reality. III. Answers to the Questions Suggested. (1) Need of defining method before stating conclusions of any inquiry. (2) The three kinds of definition possible. (3) The growing agreement regarding the practical purpose of religion. (4) Special evidence of this agreement. (5) The psychological factors in religion : (i) intellectual; (ii) emo¬ tional ; (iii) volitional ; (iv) the means used for the ends of religion. (6) The progress of religion. (7) Estimate of the value of religion. (8) Proof of the validity of the interpretation of the Universe given by religion. THE STUDY OF RELIGION I (1) It is only within the last century that the subject of religion has been studied, as it deserves to be, impartially, accurately and extensively. Partisanship for or against religion generally, or one particular religion, was only too common ; and even where there was no bias, speculation was indulged in rather than observation, classification and generalisation pursued. One religion was regarded as true and all others as false, or religion itself was treated as a delusion or an invention. We must not flatter our¬ selves, however, that even to-day all prejudice has been overcome. The supposition that religion was devised either by rulers to secure a divine sanction for their laws, or by priests to exploit the hopes and fears of men for their own profit, may be regarded as out of date. But still there are inquirers who regard the religion of the civilised man as but an evolution of the superstition of the savage, and as having no title to be regarded as in any closer corre¬ spondence with reality; the god is but the ghost ration¬ alised and moralised, and religious rites are only funeral ceremonies in disguise. (2) The standpoint of the writer of this essay may, at the outset, be frankly stated. Because, as a Christian believer, he is convinced that by his faith in Christ he reaches and lays hold of divine reality, he feels assured that wherever religion has been genuine, there has been a real contact with that same divine reality however crudely conceived or poorly experienced. Nor can he regard this standpoint as a prejudice. The necessity of a rational 287 288 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES justification is fully recognised, and in a subsequent stage of this discussion will be further dealt with. At this point the consideration must be urged, that in religion, as in morality, art and philosophy, some appreciation of worth is a necessary condition of any apprehension of truth. The inquirer who approaches the investigation of religion with a hostile bias is much less likely to discover its secret than he who deals with it sympathetically. If a man’s religion requires, as Christianity does, intellectual honesty and moral sincerity as indispensable virtues, he will at least be constantly on his guard against error, and will spare no pains to reach the truth. It is possible that he will be unconsciously and involuntarily influenced by his personal faith, but it is probable that such influence will be less hurtful than would be that of personal unbelief. (3) Besides such personal conviction two additional reasons for such a sympathetic attitude can be offered. In the first place, it is now generally admitted that religion is universal. In his book, Anti-Theistic Theories, Lecture VII, the late Professor Flint asks and answers the question, 44 Are there tribes of Atheists ? ” He starts with this admission : “ The belief to which, in ancient times, Cicero and Plutarch in well-known passages gave eloquent expression — the belief that wherever men exist they have some form of religion — can no longer be taken for granted ; for many now assert, and some have laboured to prove, that there are peoples who have neither religious ideas, nor gods, nor any kind of worship ” (p. 250). He ends, however, with the conclusion, “ An impartial examination of the relevant facts, it appears to me, shows that religion is virtually universal. The world has been so framed, and the mind so constituted, that man, even in his lowest estate, and over all the world, gives evidence of possessing religious perceptions and emotions ” (p. 288). A more recent writer states this conclusion even more confidently. 44 This point,” says Principal Jevons, 44 we have no intention of discussing, because, as every anthropologist knows, it has now gone to the limbo of dead controversies. Writers approaching the subject from such different points of view THE STUDY OF RELIGION 289 as Professor Tylor, Max Muller, Ratzel, de Quatrefages, Tiele, Waitz, Gerland, Peschel, all agree that there are no races, however rude, which are destitute of all idea of religion ” (Introduction to the History of Religion , p. 7). Secondly, the universality involves the necessity of religion, as Professor Flint’s statement indicates. Man being what he is and his world as it is, spontaneously he is religious. 44 Religion,” says Runtze, 44 has not arisen out of these or those occasions or causes, accidentally or necessarily ; it is there and will always be there, as certainly as only unreason could derive from man’s history hitherto the assumption, that there will ever be a religionless humanity, which, nevertheless, could still make claim to the name of the human. What Tertullian says of the Christian religion : anima naturaliter Christiana , that Homer has said generally of the belief in the divine : n&vxeq de decor Xazeovo ’ avOgconoc ” (Religionsphilosophie, p. 96). If religion is not only universal in mankind, but if this also involves that it is natural to manhood, we have surely a double reason for giving to it an appreciative study. (4) There are four questions about religion which we may ask ourselves, the nature, the origin and development, the value, and the validity of religion. We must first of all attempt to define what religion is; we must then try to discover its beginning and its course in human history ; our next task is to show the service that it has rendered to mankind ; and our last endeavour must be to prove that it does not involve a misinterpretation of self and the world and what is beyond both, but that in its evolution there is an increasing correspondence, theoretical and practical, in belief and in life, with reality. While the pragmatist might be content with showing the value of religion, the writer at least feels the rational necessity of proving in this sense its validity. (5) Before offering an answer to these questions, we must consider by what method or methods we are to study religion in order to know and understand the subject. We must start with the descriptive , go on to the comparative , and end with the genetic method of study in what we may u 290 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES call the scientific treatment of the subject. Here we are concerned with facts, laws, causes. Anthropology and the history of religions give us the facts ; the compara¬ tive study of religion shows the laws, the uniformities of belief, rite, custom; and religious psychology tries to trace the causes of these facts, in the constitution of man as affected by the world around him. But science cannot answer all our questions about religion. Its value and validity must be dealt with by philosophy. Here the writer ventures to suggest a distinction which has hitherto not found adequate recognition. It appears to him that the philosophy of religion should deal especially with the value of religion to the life of man, its varied functions in human society, and that the philosophy of theism should be the complement to this in showing that the object of religion — the divine — is real, and that the world is most rationally explained, when it is interpreted theistically. One other method of study may be suggested. The view of God, self, and world, held as true in any religion is its theology ; and so the study of any religion from the stand¬ point of one who professes it may be called the theological. II (1) One of the first distinctions among religions which forces itself upon our notice is that between religions which have a history and a literature, and those that have no record of their past and no writings regarded as sacred. The former are found, as might be expected, in civilised, the latter in savage races. The branch of study known as the history of religions is concerned with the first, the second class of religions has to be dealt with by anthro¬ pology. The religions of Egypt, Assyria and Babylonia, Mexico and Peru, have left records behind. Indian, Chinese, Japanese and Hebrew religions have their sacred scriptures. Zoroastrianism, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, trace their history back to a personal founder. Thus emerge two further distinctions among religions — some religions are “ book ” religions, others claim no sacred THE STUDY OF RELIGION 291 scriptures; some religions have a personal founder, others show no such influence. But as regards the first class, it must be remembered that the religion of the literature and the religion in life do not entirely correspond, for the sacred scriptures show the religion better than it is in actuality. And as regards the second class it has to be noted that the intention of the founder has not had its full effect in the religious community which calls itself after him ; there is, for instance, contrast rather than connection between the Buddhism of Thibet, China, Japan, and the teaching of Gautama the Buddha, and it is one of the tasks of the history of religion to show by what process each religion has come to be what it now is. (2) One other distinction among religions needs to be made. The earliest form of religion is tribal, and some religions never develop beyond the national type, for they are bound up with the life of the people to which they belong so closely that they cannot bear transplantation from this their native soil. A few religions are, however, universal in intention, and therefore missionarv in method. Buddhism, Christianity and Islam, all seek to be world¬ wide religions. How far the claim of each to this distinc¬ tion is justified is a judgment of value which belongs to philosophy rather than science. But the missionary effort of these religions introduces a factor into the history of religions which is of the utmost significance. The dis¬ tinctive character of each religion is thrown into greater prominence when it is engaged in conflict with a religion that would supplant it. The contact of religions, however, evokes no less the latent affinities, their attractions for as well as their repulsions from one another. Religions thus thrown together mutually modify one another. Buddhism in China and Japan has not only modified, but been itself modified by the religions it found there. Islam, rigid as it appears in doctrine and practice, has been essentially altered in Persia, and a similar process is said to be going on to-day where animistic tribes are being converted. If Christianity has been occidentalised in the past, in the future it may again be orientalised. The story u 2 292 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of missions can thus be clearly shown to be a subsidiary study to the history of religions. (3) So far we have been noting differences among religions, but we must not rest there ; we must try to dis¬ cover the unity of religion. This is ultimately a psycho¬ logical question, but the history of religions can prepare us for the answer, by dealing with the genealogy of religions. Although we have not any historical evidence of the unity of the human race, and the data fail us for tracing back all religions to one common ancestor, yet there have been his¬ torical connections, and there are proofs of racial affinities among the religions of the world. There is a Semitic and an Aryan type of religion, and each national religion in these two branches of the human family preserves traces of a common descent. How far, and in what ways the Hebrew religion was derived from the religion of Assyria and Babylonia, whether these religions were in any degree affected by that of Egypt, if Jewish and then Christian angelology, demonology, eschatology, were borrowed from Zoroastrianism, these are questions which the history of religions must attempt to answer. Christianity is some¬ times represented as a syncretism, in which Buddhist, Zoroastrian, and many other elements are blended to¬ gether : and the Christian theologian is compelled to face the issue whether this be a true account of its origin or not. While on the one hand historical connections must not be too hastily assumed, yet on the other in the history of religions the constant endeavour must be to leave no religion isolated, but to correlate it, as far as the data will allow, with all other religions. (4) Anthropology, in dealing with the religions of savage races, is not merely descriptive , as is the history of religion, but is usually comparative in its method. It does not describe the beliefs, rites and customs of each tribe or people separately, but compares these with one another in order to show their resemblances. Similarities in the religions of civilised nations who are known to have had actual contact with one another, or who may have had such intercourse even although we have no present evidences THE STUDY OF RELIGION 293 of it, are not so impressive as these resemblances in beliefs, rites and customs among savage peoples all over the earth, between whom any connection is in the highest degree improbable. Mankind is one; its manhood the same; and so in the religions of the world there are many common features. These are much more easily detected in the savage than in the civilised man, yet even in the most developed historical religion the common elements of religion can be discovered. In this method of comparison there is one danger, however, which must be carefully guarded against ; it is what in biblical study would be censured as neglect of the context. Similar beliefs and customs may have a very different significance and value owing to their associations. Circumcision means something very different to the Jew and to the Kaffir. The sacrifice in a totemistic religion means a great deal more than in one in which it is but a gift offered to please a god, for here the deity and the wor¬ shipper partake of their common life. Generalisations based on data gathered together from the ends of the earth may be premature and precarious, unless the resemblance is essential and not apparent merely. When one reads some modern books on the subject one seems to get dizzy from being transported hither and thither from one conti¬ nent to another in a headlong flight. In dealing with the complexity of human life uniformities are often deceptive, for the variety of human development is no less a fact than the unity of human nature. While fully recognising the value of this comparative study of religion, the writer must insist that human beings are not atoms, electrons, elements, the behaviour of which can be exactly compared. (5) There is a common assertion of anthropologists, which is accepted by many historians of religion, and it is this, that we can discover the one primitive religion of man¬ kind from the religion of savages. But we must be careful not to make too hasty an assumption. To admit that all the religions of civilised peoples have passed through a stage the main features of which are preserved in the religion of savages is not the same as to assert that in the religion of savages there are no elements of deterioration 294 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES which were probably absent from that earlier stage, or that the savage religions alone have preserved the primitive religion. We may conjecture that the religion of the ancestors of the civilised races had, as the explanation of its progress, some higher elements which the religion of savages has lost, and that in the religion of the savage races on account of stagnation, or even deterioration, lower elements have emerged. Hence, we are not entitled to affirm confidently that primitive religion must have been what the religion of savages now is. This general assumption was stated without adequate qualification by Tiele : “ The belief that the religions of savages, known to us from the past or still existing, are the remains of the religion which prevailed among mankind before the earliest civilisation flourished, and are thus best fitted to give us an idea of it, rests on the following grounds : — (1) The most recent investigations indicate that the general civili¬ sation had then reached no higher stage than that of the present savages, nay, it had not even advanced so far; and in such a civilisation no purer religious beliefs, ideas and usages are possible than those which we find among existing communities. (2) The civilised religions whose history ascends to the remotest ages, such as the Egyptian, the Akkadian, the Chinese, still show more clearly than later religions the influence of animistic conceptions. (3) Almost the whole of the mythology and theology of civilised nations may be traced, without arrangement or co-ordina¬ tion, except in forms that are undeveloped and original rather than degenerate, in the traditions and ideas of savages. (4) Lastly, the numerous traces of animistic spirit-worship in higher religions are best explained as the survival and revival of older elements. We must not, however, forget that the present polydaemonistic religions only imperfectly reproduce those of prehistoric times ; since even they have not stood still, but have to some extent outgrown their earlier form, which has consequently not been preserved unimpaired ” ( Outlines of the History of Religion , pp. 8-9). If in the savage there has not been any standing still, deterioration as well as progress is a possibility. If the THE STUDY OF RELIGION 295 earlier stage of all civilised religions was the same as savage religion, how was there progress in the one, stagnation, or even deterioration in the other ? These questions need to be answered if the assumption is to be justified. That we can get back to the primitive man from the savage alone is doubtful, for had not the remote ancestors of the race the promise and potency in them of civilisation as well as of savagery ? (6) Without pursuing these questions any further, the writer feels it necessary to urge that we should be careful not to confuse two distinct inquiries, the one anthropo¬ logical, the other psychological. What is the earliest form of religion ? is not the same question as, What is the origin of religion ? although we must take due account of the one in seeking to give an answer to the other. To discover the origin of religion, its subjective source in man’s mental, emotional and volitional nature, and its objective source in the action of the world upon him and his reaction upon it, is a larger and deeper question than to show what were the beliefs, the rites and the customs of the earliest stage of human development, which by evidence or inference we can possibly reach. For to discuss the origin of religion we must take into account what religion has become as well as what it once was. Animism, the belief in spirits, or animatism, the belief in the world as alive, may be the earliest kind of religious belief, but beyond the belief is the life, from which the belief sprang, and the ends of which it served. As is now being more fully recognised an account of religious ideas is not an explanation of religion, which is practical, and not theoretical primarily. In this life of the soul was the promise and the potency of not only the begin¬ ning, but also the course of religion in human history, and so we are far from having said the last word as to the origin and development of religion, when we have compared and described its earliest and its successive later forms. The comparative study of religion attempts the morphology of religion , the description of the phases it has successively assumed, such as animatism, animism, fetichism, poly- dsemonism, totemism, polytheism, henotheism, syncretism. 296 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Nevertheless, while it may be assumed that all religions have passed through certain stages of development, it is not so certain that each religion has passed through all the phases known to us. Dr. Jevons maintains, for instance, that fetichism is a by-path, and not on the main road of religion, and that we must not suppose every religion to have had a fetichist stage. Again, totemism cannot be shown to be a necessary stage in the evolution of religious belief. Here, too, allowance must be made for difference along with insistence on resemblance. (7) The descriptive and comparative study of religions leads on to the genetic. Llere we pass into the region of religious psychology. Beliefs, rites and customs are all the expression of the life of the soul ; while in the de¬ scription of these we are concerned with the outer side of religion, we get to the inner side only when we discover what are the mental, emotional and volitional processes which are their source. So long as we are observers merely of the objective facts of religion we have not got its secret; we must become experients ourselves, subjects of the thoughts, feelings and wishes, which give meaning and worth to these objective facts. We want to retrace the development of the religious consciousness from its begin¬ nings through its age-long course to its highest present stages. Can we so rethink the past religious life of mankind ? (i) As has just been insisted on, we cannot without qualification assume that the savage of to-day represents the primitive man. Even if the assumption were justified, it is not so easy as it might appear to get inside the savage’s mind. He is usually very suspicious of the traveller and the missionary, and inquiries about his religion especially are most likely to intensify this attitude. Sometimes he is “ knowing ” enough to give the answer that he thinks is expected from him. He does not feel under any obli¬ gation to speak the truth and nothing but the truth. But even if he desires to be honest and communicative, his self-consciousness is not so developed that he can with accuracy describe his own inner conditions. If he is being THE STUDY OF RELIGION 297 won as a convert to Christianity, such a change has already begun in him as makes it difficult for him to give a true account of his former belief. It is not maintained that we cannot learn much from the savage, but that the inquiry must be pursued with great caution. Can we call to our aid any other method ? (ii) In recent years increasing attention has been given to the personal development of the child, as in his growth, it is believed, the soul will disclose its secret. We may hope, therefore, that as we trace the beginnings of the life of the soul in the individual, we may get on the track of the development of the religious consciousness of mankind. 4 4 A recently developed side of psychological inquiry, the study of the mind of the child, is peculiarly well adapted to the solution of primitive mental problems. It is not to be assumed, as it often is, that the savage and his primitive predecessor are overgrown children. Nor, again, is it likely that the unscientific doctrine that the child in his individual development passes through all the stages of the mental evolution of the race, will survive any addition to our psychological and biological knowledge. But the perma¬ nent value of the study of the consciousness of children rests on the fact that in them we can observe the soul at liberty. It is as yet free, spontaneous and unspotted from the world ” (Crawley, The Idea of the Soul, p. 24). The last sentence in this quotation requires some qualification. It is being more and more insisted on that the child is more potently influenced by his environment than by his heredity. And we must, therefore, recognise that the child growing up in a moral and religious environment will be, and cannot but be, in this development, affected by that environment. We must allow for the imitative as well as the spontaneous in the child’s mind. And, further, we must never forget that it is our own interpretation that we are putting upon the child’s words and actions, and we must be prepared to find that we often just miss the child’s own point of view. How often must the grown-ups appear 44 stupid ” to the child who fails to be understood. Desire shapes the child’s world ; what he wants he believes. Spontaneous imagina- 298 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES tion is active before there is accurate knowledge. There is, however, growing curiosity. Wee Macgreegor’s 44 whit wey ” is characteristic of any child. Parents and teachers are often puzzled by the questions regarding the cause, the nature, and the purpose of the world, put by children. Last of all in the development comes the recognition of a moral law to be accepted. It is not improbable that this order of growth in the child recapitulates, in some measure at least, the course of human development. (iii) It is evident, however, that both savage and child need to be interpreted, and that, therefore, the interpreter must have asked himself the questions for which he seeks an answer. There must be in the last resort introspection, self-analysis. The thinker must be able to break up his ideas into their simpler elements ; he must endeavour to rethink his own religious history. While it may be possible for a man sympathetically and appreciatively to analyse and estimate opinions and feelings that he does not share, and we may gratefully recognise all that has been done for the study of religion by those for whom it is even at its best misinterpretation of reality, yet the writer at least cannot escape the conviction that a man to do full justice to religion as an objective fact must himself know it as a subjective feeling and force. In the psychology of religion when we come to deal with this last question which we have to ask about it, its nature, origin and development, we are passing, whether we will or not, from the standpoint of science to that of philosophy, and a recognition of this fact should be insisted on, especially in regard to the solution of the problem by those whose attitude to religion generally, or to a particular religion, is indifferent, if not hostile. (iv) Attention has been called by Runtze to the influ¬ ence of language, if not directly on the religious life itself yet on the representations of the religious consciousness. “ Religion, the sphere of the holy, is most completely re¬ flected in speech. Only when the name for God has been found, does the consciousness of God become clear and unmixed ; and to proclaim ‘ the word of God ’ is the chief task of the founder of a religion, the prophet, the preacher, THE STUDY OF RELIGION 299 who is convinced that he is proclaiming God Himself, in the word, in the verbal representation ” ( Religionsphilosophie , p. 105). Language in expressing the religious conscious¬ ness inevitably reacts upon it. This we must admit, even if we stop short of Max Muller’s view of the identity of Language and Thought. An illustration from his account of 44 the primitive expression of the early Aryan speakers ” may be fitly inserted here. “ When we should say, the moon exists, the sun is there, or it blows, it rains, they would only think and say the sun breathes (sdryo asti ), the moon grows (mu bhavati), the earth dwells (bhdr vasati ), the wind or the blower blows (vdyur vdti ), the rain rains ( indr a unatti , or vrishd varshati , or somah sunoti ) ” ( The Hibbert Lectures , p. 193). While he denies that at this stage of thought there was any 44 animating, personifying or humanising ” of these objects (p. 194), an opinion in which he would now find few supporters, yet he recognises that “the comprehension determined the expression; the various expressions, in becoming traditional, reacted on the comprehension; the action and reaction produced by necessity ancient mythology ” (p. 193). So inevitable does this process appear, that it seems hardly just to describe mythology as 44 a disease of language.” Metaphor, personi¬ fication, hyperbole, and other figures of speech, have played their part in giving content to the religious con¬ sciousness in its representation and explanation of the world, in its conception of the divine; but it would be an entire mistake on that account to suppose that man in his religion is not conscious of contact with reality and even ultimate reality. (8) It is evident that it is quite impossible for us to isolate religion from the whole life of man, and treat it adequately in such isolation. It is one of many functions of the soul, affecting and being affected by all these; and it determines his relation to the world around him. What is its value subjectively, what is its validity objectively ? These are questions that we must ask ourselves. But it is certain that science by its methods of observation, classi¬ fication, generalisation, cannot answer them. We must 300 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES pass from science to philosophy. The writer has not found in the treatment of the subject hitherto, that the dis¬ tinction between the two questions has been made sharply enough. That we should now insist upon it is a tribute to the influence of the pragmatist philosophy which may be offered even by those who deny its adequacy. A philo¬ sophy of religion may first ask itself the question, What is the worth of religion in relation to morality, society, art, literature, science and philosophy ? In regard to morality we may ask, Not only can it be autonomous, as Kant insisted, but has it been autonomous ? It has sometimes been maintained that morality and religion are inde¬ pendent of one another, and that sometimes even religion at a lower stage of development may come into conflict with morality at a higher stage. How often have the lines of Lucretius been repeated : “ Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum ! ” (1. 102). Yet it is certain, on the other hand, that the tribal deity was the guardian and vindi¬ cator of the tribal customs, in which we can discern the beginnings of morality. Significant is the fact that the positivist insists that morality must be transferred from a theocratic to a sociocratic basis, for this is a recognition of the dependence in the past at least of morality on religion. The Code of Hammurabi is theocratic, as is the Decalogue. While it may appear to us impossible to accept the opposition between reason and religion on which Mr. Benjamin Kidd insists in his book on Social Evolution , yet he does assert “ the function of religious beliefs in the evolution of society.” While his view of religion is one-sided, as its influence on morality does not exhaust its significance, yet he calls our attention to one service which must be fully recognised in estimating its value. From the standpoint of even a higher morality can we adequately measure the inspiration to moral aspiration and endeavour which is afforded by the con¬ viction that the moral ideal is eternal reality in God ? Again, how much of the world’s greatest art has been in¬ spired by religion ! The temple and the idol have not been without an influence on the development of architecture THE STUDY OF RELIGION 301 and sculpture. The ancient literature which has been preserved throughout the generations is for the most part sacred scripture; and how potently has all the serious literature of the world been affected by religion ! Science and religion are often regarded as antagonists; and it must be admitted that they do come into conflict when religion attempts to impose its world-view on science, and challenges the explanation of phenomena which science alone can give, but also when science attempts to transform its explanation of phenomena into a world¬ view such as it is not within its competence to construct. The philosophy of religion must seek to fix the boundaries. A world-view is the province of philosophy, and in this it will come into contact with religion. While it is note¬ worthy that the majority of the philosophical systems of the past have been theistic, yet the conception of the divine reached along the path of the speculative interpre¬ tation of the world is often one which does not satisfy the religious consciousness. Absolute idealism is in the judg¬ ment of many Christian thinkers antagonistic to Christian faith. Here the philosophy of religion must attempt to mediate. It must seek to show, on the one hand, how far religious conceptions are inadequate, or, on the other, how far philosophy has neglected any data in the religious life which it should have considered more fully and esti¬ mated more highly. But we are here already passing from the philosophy of religion to the philosophy of theism , from the problem of value to the problem of validity. Even if it could be shown that religion stimulated and sustained all the manifold interests and activities of man, that it was of the greatest service in enriching the life of man, only in a very limited degree can we affirm its worth unless we can go on to show its truth . If there be no objective reality corresponding to the conception of the divine, if faith, worship, obedience, are but a self -projection of man into the void, then, as an illusion and mockery of man, religion loses its worth. So great are the interests here involved, that a man must seek and strive to get beyond conjecture to certainty. 302 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES (9) It is doubtful, however, whether philosophy can give man this certainty. However rational the reality, as interpreted by a system, may appear to its advocates, religious assurance comes not from intellectual demon¬ stration. The ultimate basis of this certainty is personal experience, the religious consciousness of contact and communion with divine reality. Man assumes that the divine he seeks does disclose itself to him. Religion would indeed be like the child “ crying in the night, and with no language but a cry,” were there not the assurance of revelation. The gods show their favour or displeasure, they answer prayers, they accept offerings, they grant forgiveness, they bestow boons. The conception of the divine may be crude, and the expectations of the wor¬ shippers low ; but there is, in spite of all such imperfection of form, a real contact of the divine and the human, unless religion be the most tragic illusion humanity practises on itself. When the reality of this contact of the divine with the human in religion is not only speculatively re¬ cognised but practically experienced, when the world and life are viewed in the light of this relationship to God, it seems desirable to insist that we have passed from the philosophical to the theological standpoint, for philosophy is concerned with the interpretation of the world, even though it may interpret it theistically, but theology is concerned primarily with man’s knowledge of God in God’s self-disclosure in the world and in life, and it is only here that the study of religion can be said at last to have reached its goal. Ill (1) The writer has dwelt so long on the problems of method before attempting to offer an answer to the four questions we ask about religion, because it seems to him that many wrong answers have in the past been given because the problems of method have not been adequately considered. Some illustrations of unjustified assumptions have already been offered. Further, the danger to-day THE STUDY OF RELIGION 308 is over-specialisation, and the duty of a University should be to correct such tendency. The worker in one part of the field should have before him a plan of the whole, to correct his inclination to think that there is nothing beyond his small corner. To draw up an adequate programme for the study of any subject is to give needed guidance in dealing with its minutiae. Christian theology, it must be confessed, has not always set its interpretation of the Christian faith in this wider context of the religions of the world, although it can gain only by the evidence offered that religion is a universal necessity of humanity, and that by comparison with other religions its supremacy is made only more manifest. But, on the other hand, the study of religion generally has been pursued too often apart from, and even in antagonism to, Christian theology, and so emphasis has often fallen on the lower elements of religion, on its earlier stages, and it has not been judged as it ought to be judged by what may in an unprejudiced comparison be regarded as its higher features and later developments. On these two grounds the writer would justify what may appear an abstract discussion. (2) So many definitions of religion have been given, and so greatly have these differed, that one may ask the question, Can we give a definition ? and, what in religion are we to define ? Can we in all beliefs, rites and customs we call reli¬ gious discover a common element, which our definition must fix as accurately as words can do ? Or is that common element so vague an abstraction that we cannot invest it with any definite meaning ? Kaftan asserts, Ritschl denies, the possibility of defining the common element in all religions. 44 Language,” says Ritschl, 44 can furnish no terms sufficiently neutral and indeterminate to express the general conception of religion desired ” ( Justification and Reconciliation, p. 195). Kaftan justifies the attempt to give a definition. 44 I cannot find,” he says, 44 that the necessary indefiniteness and generality decreases its value for knowledge, but hold the opinion that on the contrary it is definite enough to bring to expression an essential 304 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES and distinguishing peculiarity of religion ” (Das Wesen der Christlichen Religion , p. 94). Ritschl seeks to avoid the error which has been only too common of substituting for a definition of the common element of all religions an exposition of the ideal of religion, which the individual thinker may have himself conceived. An illustration of this tendency to substitute a subjective impression of re¬ ligion for the objective apprehension is furnished by the three great thinkers, Kant, Hegel and Schleiermacher. For Kant, religion is the apprehension of moral obligations as divine commands ; for Hegel it is the less adequate representation (V orstellung) of ultimate reality or spirit, of which philosophy alone has the more accurate conception ( Begriff ) ; for Schleiermacher, who revolts alike against moralism and intellectualism and inclines to mysticism, it is the feeling of dependence on God, whether conceived personally or impersonally. The Christian believer, re¬ garding Christianity as the ^realisation of the ideal of religion, is prone to make it the standard of judgment of what is and what is not to be recognised as genuinely religious in other faiths. The missionary, seeing no resemblance between the beliefs and rites of the savage whom he is seeking to convert and the Gospel of Christ, has sometimes hastily declared that he has discovered no trace of religion, only superstition. If we cannot get our definition of religion either by dis¬ covering the common element of all religions, or by determining the ideal of all religion, what remains to us ? Ritschl suggests a middle course. We may seek for the tendency in all religions, which finds its full ex¬ pression first of all in Christianity. We are thus led to the most recent form of the question : What is it that man seeks in his religion ? This is the decisive issue. For although there is an intellectual aspect of religion — a theology more or less developed, and an emotional — a piety more or less cultivated, the primary is the practical — the end sought by man, an end which is differently conceived at different stages of evolution. (3) We may assert as the result of the discussion of the THE STUDY OF RELIGION 305 problem of the nature of religion in the last few years that there is a growing agreement regarding this practical purpose of religion, although there is still a great differ¬ ence of opinion regarding the good for himself that man seeks. We may suppose, however, that such difference of opinion about religion does reflect an inevitable difference of desire in religion itself. Granted that man seeks the highest good in religion, he will conceive it according to his culture and character. But it may be said that man seeks his good in industry, society, morality ; what distin¬ guishes his method of search in religion is this. It is not by his own effort, or by the assistance of his fellow-men, that man wishes, hopes and believes to reach his goal in religion. It is by means of the divine, the supersensible, superhuman, even supernatural power or powers that he seeks his good in religion. Some conception of the divine, however crude, is essential to religion. Buddhism and Positivism are not exceptions to this statement ; for Buddh¬ ism in its original historical form was a method by which man sought to save himself from the misery of the world, and so was implicitly a negation of religion, and its later developments, in which the Buddhas are practically deified, show that man cannot find rest in this negation. And Positivism is so transparently artificial a device to get a substitute for the divine in Humanity, that its theoretical unreality and its practical ineffectiveness negatively witness to the necessity of the belief in God for man. Some relation to the divine, however rude, is equally essential to religion. Man’s feeling towards the divine is pain or pleasure, fear or hope, as he seeks to avert the anger or to secure the favour of the gods or God in whom he believes, by prayers, sacrifices and gifts. There are the following elements in religion to be reckoned with in any definition we may attempt, and as we determine each of these elements, so will our definition be ; an end for life sought, an idea of the divine held, an emotion felt, and an effort made. (4) In proof of this statement that there is a growing agreement amid still surviving differences, Mayer’s article x 306 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES on 44 The Position of the Question regarding the Nature of Religion ” in the Theologische Rundschau , 1910, may be quoted. 44 Gradually the old quarrel is being settled between the view that religion corresponds to a theoretical necessity and the view that it corresponds to a practical. Very characteristic in this respect are the advances in the anthropological school. Wundt has in his Volker psycho¬ logic ( Ethnical Psychology) expressed the observation that the theologians — he thinks, manifestly, of those of the pre¬ sent day — incline more to the voluntarist interpretation of religion, the anthropologists more to the intellectual^.’ ’ Mayer, however, then goes on to show that the anthropo¬ logical position is being modified in spite of the dominant tradition in the school that “religion is a primitive and unfortunate [or ineffectual, missgluckter] attempt to explain the world” (p. 46). He concludes, 44 One must not allow oneself to be led astray regarding the identity of the fundamental ideas by the multiplicity of expression. Whether one says with Boutroux that religion corresponds to a 4 postulate of life,’ or with Hoffding that it is based on the fundamental principle of the preservation of values, or with Siebeck, numerous Ritschlians and others, that it serves the assertion of personality or the morally directed personality, life or specially moral life, or with Sabatier, that it makes possible the self-maintenance of the self- consciousness over against the pressure of the world, or with Leuba that it is a definite relation to the satisfaction of wishes, or with A. Reville, that it has as its ground 4 le hesoin de vivre ,’ or even also, that it means the synthesis between Ego and Non-ego, or whichever of the current expressions one may make use of, the sense of the language always issues in this, that it is goods of life, of one kind or another, that the pious man seeks of the gods; and accordingly scientific knowledge can actually play a part in religious experience only in so far, but indeed also play a real part in so far, as it might be itself a good of life, or an essential part thereof. This is the explicit anti-intel- lectualist theory. It has become the predominant one ” (pp. 51-52). In view of so general an agreement previous THE STUDY OF RELIGION 307 definitions which do not recognise the practical purpose of religion may now be regarded as antiquated. (5) We may look a little more closely at the psychological factors in religion, (i) There is an intellectual factor, a conception of the divine, and of the world and self in relation thereto. But it must be insisted that the primary interest is not the explanation of the world; for here thought is the servant of life. When we trace the development of the conception of the divine from ani- matism or animism, or whatever mav have been the earliest form of thought, to monotheism or pantheism, whichever we may regard as higher, we are dealing with only one factor in religious evolution, and must avoid the common error of supposing that we are dealing with religion as a whole. Accordingly we must not confuse religion and mythology, for in mythology we may recognise three other motives besides the religious, viz. the scientific or philosophical, the aesthetic and the linguistic. The explanation of the world, or the telling of a story, or the making explicit the ideas implicit in words, is not religion. Neither does mythology exhaust the intellectual content of religion. There is a sense of the infinite and eternal, which refuses imprisonment in the definite ideas and images of mythology, which essentially belongs to religion. Mytho¬ logy is an expression of the thought of religion, inevitable at, and appropriate to, a stage of man’s intellectual evolu¬ tion ; and to show that science has superseded mythology as an explanation of the world is not to disprove the truth of religion, which can adapt itself to all the changes of man’s mental outlook. (ii) There is in religion also an emotional element. Epicurus and Lucretius regarded fear as the source of religion. Primus in orbe deos fecit timor , said Petronius This view through Hobbes and Hume has come down to, and been commonly accepted in, the anthropological school. But even here another tendency has shown itself. Roskoff has insisted on trust and even love as characteristic of religion. Jevons has contended that love and not fear marks religion. u We may confidently assert that there x 2 308 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES is no tribe existing whose attitude towards the super¬ natural is one of hostility, pure and simple ” ( Introduction to the History of Religion , p. 42). “ Whether man’s attitude towards the supernatural has or has not ever at any period been one of complete hostility, at any rate there came a time when he established friendly relations with some of the supernatural powers by which he was surrounded ” (p. 43). The anthropologists and the Christian theologians are approaching one another in their view of the character¬ istically religious emotion. It may be pointed out that the religious emotion of any man will depend on his circum¬ stances. If his life be one of peril, hardship and suffering, he is likely to fear unfriendly gods ; if all go well, he is prone to rejoice in their favour. Yet even in a religion which is for the most part a propitiation of evil spirits, there is the assumption that their hostility may be averted by the proper rites, and so dread can pass into trust. (iii) The volitional element in religion is to be recognised both in the end sought by religion, and in the means adopted to gain the end. In what have been called the natural religions, the end sought is the goods of the bodily life, the provision of the needs of the body, and the protec¬ tion of life itself from danger. At this stage of religious development the gods are conceived as in some way controlling the processes of nature, and thus man seeks their help for the comfort and safety of his natural life. Wherever the social consciousness and the moral conscience are developed, tribal custom, the soil out of which grows moral obligation, is regarded as the will of the tribal deity, and thus religion becomes in some measure ethical. Dis¬ aster is conceived as penalty, and deliverance is sought by the recovery of the favour of the off ended god. Even if ceremonial offences and moral transgressions are confused, yet here a moral end emerges in religion. A moral good is gradually substituted for material goods ; and the worshipper seeks forgiveness and holiness, and not merely happiness. But there is a stage of development even beyond this, when the spiritual blessing of communion with God Himself is sought for itself, and not only the moral THE STUDY OF RELIGION 309 good or the material goods. Till that stage is reached God is subordinated as a means to man’s end; but here God Himself, and personal relation to Him, becomes the end. May we not maintain even that it is in this last stage that the essence of religion is disclosed? Fecisti nos ad Te, et inquietum est cor nostrum , donee requiescat in Te , says Augustine ( Confessions , i. 1). 44 Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him for ever,” is the answer to the first question in the Shorter Catechism of the West¬ minster Assembly. It is not the earliest form of religion which shows us its nature, but that form which is the result of the age-long process. Religion can thus be defined as the soul’s search for God until it find its satisfaction in Him. But this aspiration for the divine must be kept in relation to the whole of life, as the enriching of all its gains, and the hallowing of all its endeavours. And mysticism must be regarded as a one-sided development of religion, a by-path rather than its main road, in so far as it sub¬ jectively asserts a separate organ for religion detached from the ordinary exercise of man’s personality as thinking, feeling and willing, and objectively opposes God in Him¬ self to His manifestations and operations in nature and history. There is a real contact with the reality of God Himself as the goal of all religion — this is the truth of mysticism. But God reveals this reality in nature and history, and man gains this real contact not by the sup¬ pression, but by the exercise and development of his full personality — this is the correction of the error of mysticism. Looking backward from this last stage of the religious development, we may see that the moving force of man’s call for the help of the gods or God was his need of God Himself. (iv) Turning now from the end of religion to the means used, we may, without entering into details, bring them all under the categories of prayer and sacrifice — a plea urged with, or a gift offered to, the gods. In religion man is conscious of his dependence on the divine and its claim to his submission. He seeks to avert displeasure and to secure favour by word or by deed. It is not necessary 310 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES for the present purpose to discuss the much debated question of the origin of sacrifice. Sufficient is it to point out that in sacrifice man by deed, as in prayer by word, seeks to use the gods for himself. In both he appeals to the gods to be gracious. Here lies the distinction between religion and magic. Some scholars have contended that magic is older than religion, and that it was only when man failed to achieve his purpose by magic that he turned to religion, or that even religion itself in its beginnings was magic, that is, prayer and sacrifice were both conceived as not an appeal to the gods, but rather as a mysterious power which compelled even the gods to fulfil the wishes of man. That religion has only too often sunk to magic in the superstitious belief in the necessary efficacy of its rites must be frankly conceded; but we must not only maintain the distinction of magic and religion, but must also deny that religion is a substitute for magic, or has no more root in reality than magic, and so will itself be one day superseded by science. We may agree with Dr. Frazer {The Golden Bough) when he insists on the distinction, but must dissent from him in this consequent contention. Dr. Jevons insists that magic is the savage’s crude applied science, and that in using it he does not suppose himself to be exercising supernatural power. It is, therefore, entirely distinct from religion, which ascribes to the gods the exercise of such supernatural power. He maintains that religion has not developed out of magic, but that 44 religion and magic had different origins and were always essentially distinct from one another, that the belief in the supernatural was prior to the belief in magic, and that the latter, whenever it sprang up, was a degradation or lapse in the evolution of religion ” {Introduction to the History of Religion , p. 25). (6) In religion the whole personality is exercised, and with the development of the personality in culture and civilisa¬ tion there is progress in religion. The conception of the divine advances ; the imagination gives place to the intellect in apprehending the gods, mythology passes into philosophy and theology; unity is substituted for multiplicity; moral THE STUDY OF RELIGION 311 perfection is added to supernatural power. The emotion towards the divine also changes ; love, as it grows perfect, casts out fear. The end sought comes more and more to be life in God instead of the means of bodily life by aid of the gods. Prayer becomes more thankful and trustful, as creaturely dependence passes into childlike submission. Sacrifice is no longer an offering of gifts to win divine favours or turn away divine displeasure, but repentance of sin and consecration unto God. As religion develops the secret of its nature is disclosed, and its origin is shown to be what is highest, and not lowest, in manhood. (7) It is only as we survey the history of religion as a whole that we can estimate its value. To discredit religion by exposing the superstitions of savages is as unfair as it would be to depreciate science because the savage’s views of nature are exhibited in his magic. Just as religion has shown the capacity to make progress along with man’s general evolution, even though at times theology has unwisely lagged behind scientific knowledge and philosophical thought in clinging to antiquated ideas, so we may anticipate that it will continue to adapt itself to new situations, and not be superseded by science in the theoretical and by philanthropy in the practical sphere. It would require a far more detailed discussion than the limits of space here allow to show that religion has not only made progress in man’s evolution, but that it has itself been a potent factor of progress in that evolution. One general consideration in regard to the value of religion may be here advanced. Man in all his activities of the higher order is guided and inspired by an ideal of truth, beauty, blessedness, holiness, love. What religion does is to give man the certainty in his contact and communion with the divine that these ideals are not an imagination, a self-exaltation of man beyond his human limits, but an apprehension of the reality of God. If in all other en¬ deavours man is viator , moving towards a distant and not distinctly perceived goal, in religion he is comprehensor , one who already rests at the goal as having his inmost life in the God who is the reality of all his ideals. 312 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES (8) Such an argument for the value of religion as giving worth to the whole life of man needs to be supplemented by the proof of the validity of the interpretation of the Universe which religion gives. For religion, the divine is the explanation of the world. Can this explanation be justified from the wider standpoint of human knowledge and thought generally ? Is the theistic interpretation of the Universe the more rational ? There has been a tendency generally to abandon this quest, and Christian believers even have confessed themselves agnostic in head, though Christian in heart. The writer cannot acquiesce in such a dualism. Nor can he be content with the pragmatist position. He believes that man is not mocked with the semblance of knowledge, but can so interpret the Universe as to apprehend its ultimate course, final purpose, and essential reality. While science by its methods cannot answer these questions, philosophy, if it does justice not only to the speculative intellect, but also to the moral conscience and the religious consciousness of mankind, cannot but be led, in his judgment, to personal spirit as the highest category of thought. Not that he as a Christian believer bases his personal certainty on such a philosophic conclusion, as he has the witness in his own experience of God in Christ, but that he holds that the Christian experience specifically, and the religious consciousness generally, should not be left an isolated, inexplicable fact, but can be set in the context, not contradictory, but confirmatory, of a theistic interpre¬ tation which is rationally valid, because more intelligible than any other solution of the riddle of the Universe. ESSAY X THE EMOTIONAL ELEMENT IN RELIGION A VINDICATION Rev. Prof. Caldecott, D.D., D.Lit. SYNOPSIS The distrust of the Emotional life by philosophy of Religion. Some principal objections would be removed if it could be shown that Order in the realm of Feeling is attainable and has been attained. I. The experience of a central Emotion or Sentiment at the summit of mental life. The stages of the intellectual life ; suggested parallel in the emotional sphere. (a) Evidence from some philosophers. Aristotle ; Feeling not entirely disallowed in his Ideal. Spinoza ; the Intellectual love of God. Kant ; Reverence for Reason. Hegel ; Dr. McTaggart on Love as alone satisfying the highest criterion. ( b ) Evidence from some English writers on Religion. The three stages of Mysticism. False Mysticism. Christian Mysticism. Richard Rolle ; Juliana of Norwich; John Smith, Cambridge Platonist; Bishop Butler; Jonathan Edwards; Newman; Seeley. II. The organisation effected by this central Emotion. Not the suppression of the Feelings but their preservation and good ordering the true ideal. Indication of the organising function of the highest Feeling in Aristotle, Spinoza, Kant, Hegel; further evidence fi*om John Smith, Butler, Edwards, Newman. Sacramentalism and Symbolism applicable to the relation between lower and higher Feelings. An Oriental view : P. Ramanathan. III. Application to some principal grounds for the distrust of Feeling. (i) Total depreciation of Feeling ; to be met only by counter-assertion. (ii) Significance of the possibility of injurious feelings; reference to the whole system required. Examination of typical depreciation by John Caird. (iii) Alleged subjectivity and individuality ; not true of the supreme love of God, and its consequential universal love of goodness. Conclusion. — The unity sought for the Intellectual life should be sought for Feeling also ; success in the one search supports the other. Intellectual Theism and the Love of God. THE EMOTIONAL ELEMENT IN RELIGION: A VINDICATION Taking Emotionality in all its phases as emotions, affections, inclinations, desires — the whole range of joys, griefs, delights, aspirations, sympathies, and the like — we find that in the history of ethics and of the philosophy of religion there is a prevalent tendency to treat this factor of our life with suspicion and distrust amounting frequently to disallowance and opposition. As a principal ground for this hostility it is alleged that even within their own range the emotions are disorderly, a manifold without a plan. Hence the entry of any one of them may disturb the peace of the soul, whilst quite often they are an unruly crowd, clamouring and discordant even among themselves ; they plunge us into commotion and tumult, and are rightly called perturbations. Further, even when some kind of order appears, there is no inherent guarantee that it is a healthy order : certain emotions may have assumed prominence for which they have no qualifications except their own forcefulness ; e. g. sordid ambition or implacable resentment may be in command whilst generous philan¬ thropy or kindly forgivingness are kept in low place or even suppressed. Self-condemned in this way, the inference is that Emotionality must either be subjected to other faculties of the soul for regulation or else be disallowed altogether. For the vindication of Emotionality, therefore, it is necessary to deal with this serious objection, and it is the principal purpose of this paper to face it. I propose to maintain the position that in our feelings, as elsewhere, we are called upon to look for “system” as the ideal, the true norm, and to be confident that the emotional mani- 315 316 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES fold can be unified : that affections and desires, varied as they are, can be organised into a stable and healthy polity. In pursuit of system there is one very obvious method : to endeavour to secure the dominance of a single emotion. Democracy has its attractions, but monarchy is the simpler conception, and Sociology shows that in the sphere of society at least it is the easier to attain. On the whole, this method is approved by the majority of philosophies, and it is supported by the independently formed opinion of the important strain of religious reflection now widely recognised under the term Mysticism. In this essay accordingly I wish to show that Emotionality is vindicated as a proper and a beneficial range of mental life : (i) by those who hold that experience discloses the possibility of an emotion entitled to be regarded as central and pre-eminent ; and (ii) that the value of this central emotion is emphatically demonstrated by those in whose experi¬ ence it has proved itself able to undertake the function of a sovereign by bringing into order and system the whole compass of the emotional life. It may be claimed that such a unification is effected by the many who seek self-satisfaction in some single passion, e. g. the pursuit of wealth or of reputation ; and on a higher level that utilitarian ethics commends the definite setting up of the sentiment of philanthropy in this way. This is true. But as these aims are manifestly finite on their objective side, so on their emotional side the testimonies in their favour do not amount to establishing their capacity for giving full and abiding emotional satisfaction. The testimonies to which I am about to appeal are those of philosophers and religious men who have moved upward in the emotional ascensus until they reached its height; until they came to experience an elevated feeling which, under various names, I take to have been in essence the love of perfect and universal being and goodness. They had had experience of feelings on the lower levels and could assign excellence to the various emotions in order of merit, and they ascribe supreme excellence to this consummatory EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 317 passion. They were no weaklings in the ordinary experi¬ ences of mankind, but men and women of strong natures, as full of affections as their neighbours, to say the least : and in the moral sphere they could challenge com¬ parison with those who speak from that sphere only : and when they declare that above those levels they found a quality of feeling more excellent still, their witness is entitled to be heard. I The possibility of a central emotion or sentiment at the summit of mental life. We know how the stages of intellectuality are set out by common consent : the senses, the understanding, reason or intuition. Is Emotionality to be left behind when we rise above the sensory level ? or, at most, is it to be carried no higher than the middle level ? or, may it not also be expected and recognised with welcome at the highest range also ? May we not expect that it will be found as a companion on each level ? and, by parity of reasoning, regard it as advancing in worth in corre¬ spondence with the advances in intelligence ? This seems a reasonable expectation; but, we may also ask, may it not be that Emotionality has its own course of progressive elevation in values ? a course which may be briefly sum¬ marised in a similar threefold graduation ? And may it not be that the emotional life is itself so inherently powerful as to go in advance of intellect, and so to operate upon intelligence as to compel it to keep pace by becoming imaginative in a creative way ? (a) Let us first call some philosophers. Time need not be occupied with claiming that Emotion¬ ality is found at the summit of life by Plato and the Plato- nists. By them all the resources of eloquence are drawn upon to express the high emotional experience which finds the true to be also very good and very beautiful : in every way noble and to be admired, the source of joy and love in him who finds it : inspiring man to the elevation of his 318 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES own character towards a perfection in which, and in which alone, real happiness is an integral part. Aristotle . — When Aristotle arrives at his summit he finds the highest excellence of human life to be contem¬ plation. But he is unwilling to disallow emotionality : 44 Pleasure ought to be one of the ingredients of (the highest) happiness.” Indeed, his principle that pleasure or enjoyment though not an ivegyeia assists ivegyeia compels him to look for it : and he may be said to testify that the very rejoicing in the truth intensifies the power of knowing it. Activity is stimulated by enjoyment, at its height as everywhere else. When we have reached the supreme form of activity we have an enjoyment which Aristotle declares to be incomparable among enjoy¬ ments, and he commends it as such to all seekers for the true evdcufiovla. I share the impression made upon John Hutchison Stirling that when Aristotle stood upon his summit of vision he felt deeply ; and I accept even for his metaphysical exposition of the culmination of being in the First Mover the title so finely assigned to it by Stirling, the 44 Hymn of Aristotle.” Spinoza . — Spinoza sets up the usual ladder of knowledge, and claims for man access to the third level, the knowledge of Substance in its infinite and eternal essence. And though he had described our life in the emotions as a 44 bondage ” we can see that it was by an over-estimate of their passivity that he had depreciated them : they arose when we could not obtain adequate ideas, when substantial reality and goodness were confused and clouded over ; we were like school children, dull and half -taught in compari¬ son with bright and well-instructed scholars. But "when we arrive at the highest level we find ourselves at last in possession of adequate ideas, and a malign influence from emotion is no longer to be dreaded. And so we find our severely intellectualist guide withdrawing his ban upon emotionality and telling us that knowledge of God begets a love of God. He does not, indeed, acknowledge that emotion has its own legitimate course; he regards it as attendant upon intellect : but he sees that it does actually EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 319 reappear at the end, and we can call him as a witness on our side. True, he speaks of the “ intellectual love ” of God, and many commentators insist on taking it that he accepts emotion only metaphorically ; but I must disagree with them : I believe that Spinoza is giving us his own experience at the cost of embarrassing his previous predominantly anti-emotional treatment. The idea of Eternal Substance, he acknowledges, “ fills the mind with joy.” This emotion is indeed beyond compare : it is timeless as the Object which begets it in us. Hence it is stability itself so long as we can sustain ourselves at the highest level of contemplation. Still, as a fact of experience it is rare, though with increasing frequency for the seeking mind. To this his own life bore eloquent witness. Kant. — Kant may be said not only to acknowledge the presence of a central emotion, but to demonstrate a priori that it arises of necessity. Allowing that man is not wholly intellectual, and that activity is bound up with sensory influence, he expressly considers the sensory “ interest ” which accompanies Reason. He shows that the very claim of Reason to prescribe rules of action causes a restriction, a thwarting, in the sensory region of impulses, which gives rise to a reactionary feeling, a sentiment of Respect or Reverence. I am not clear that Kant fully accepts a positive feeling beyond this negatively produced respect : such a positive feeling of real delight in reasonableness as such, as Sidgwick, for example, declared to be within his own experience. Kant seems to be afraid to allow so much value as this to what he regarded as an inferior order of mentality : and he certainly declined to consider it to be applicable in the sphere of Divine Reason. Hegel. — In dealing with Hegel I may be permitted, instead of going to Hegel himself, to call attention to the position to which Dr. McTaggart conducts, if not Hegel, the principles of Hegelianism. This position Dr. McTag¬ gart, with some trepidation, confesses “ may fairly be called mystical.” The point for us is that at the highest y 320 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES level of experience emotionality is retained, beyond knowledge and beyond volition. Now we know that Hegel himself regarded “Feeling” as a lower category, and gave as his reasons (1) that it may be either good or bad, (2) that it is too individualistic, and (3) that it is of lower value than thinking. But Dr. McTaggart has endeavoured to refine Feeling so as to free it from these objections, and we find that when he stands in face of the Absolute (as he conceives it) the three conditions, which he specifies, with which consciousness must comply are not satisfied by either volition or knowledge, but only by love. Love, therefore, is the only state of consciousness in which “ the absolute can be perfectly manifested.” Of course all Hegelians may not accept this conclusion : but the exposition of Dr. McTaggart is conducted with so much power, both critical and constructive, that we may at any rate estimate it as one of the principal issues latent in Hegelian thought. (b) Evidence from some English writers in religion. After the copious outflow of writings upon Mysticism within the last fifteen years, there is no need for me to explain that I am not about to appeal to evidence from abnormally psycho-physical sources, but only to consider the experience of such persons as are recognised to have been eminently sane both physically and mentally. It is the general view of Mysticism that the way upward in life has three viae or stages ; regarded as stages of know¬ ledge. In the first the things of sense occupy the mind; in the second we are absorbed in endeavouring to under¬ stand the world; in the third the manifold exhibited by the understanding is replaced by the direct vision of unity. In the first stage the emotional life is regarded as a source of disturbance from which it is indispensable that the ad¬ vancing soul should shake itself free ; when the second stage has been entered upon, emotionality has become unimport¬ ant and often escapes notice altogether ; but that at the third stage it reappears is the significant fact which I wish to bring into evidence. We have also abundant records of Mystics, less intellectually disposed, by whom closer EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 321 attention was given to the emotional progress, and by these a more continuous advance in the life of Feeling is described. In the first stage there is the strife with the lower emotions and impulses, then follows emergence from their thrall into the calmer influence of a few tranquil emotions, and finally there comes the attainment of a single dominant emotion at the summit, the love of God. I would here interpose a caution as to the interpretation of these three stages. They need not be taken to mean that the soul is at any time occupied in one of these stages separately, passing in its integrity from the first to the second, and from the second to the third; like Comte’s Law of the Three Stages in thought, these are phases which coexist, the mind being at any point of its history occupied with all three in different proportions. They represent a schema of merit, of course, and point out the pathway of progress ; but it is only in rare cases, even if in any, that absorption in first one and then the other has been attained. The tremendous experiences of those who have plunged so deeply into the purgation of the first stage as to have been stripped bare of emotionality, and to have lived for months or years in emptiness and gloom and then have attained a period of life in the illuminative but emotionally dry light of the understanding, have been numerous in various times and with various temperaments. But none have claimed a complete passage from the second stage to the third except for some exceedingly rare and brief moments when there was enjoyment of the unitive vision of Reality in its simplicity and universality. But what is meant is that in all souls there should be a constant change in the proportion in which the sensory, the intellectual and the intuitive kinds of knowledge are found, in favour of a continuous advance towards the predominance of the higher over the lower. And the same interpretation is required for the records of advance on the emotional side ; the lowest order of feelings should gradually diminish in relative influence, the highest should increase in fre¬ quency and duration and power. Allowing for this interpretation, what is the testimony Y 322 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES of Mystics as to the presence of Emotionality at the highest conceivable level of the soul ? Has the exclusion of the feelings of the lowest level meant that this side of life has been irrevocably cut away ? On the highest level are we to conceive ourselves as occupied with purely intellectual contemplation, so entirely absorbed in knowledge of the highest Reality that the experience is adequately designated the Vision of God ? We have seen that even leaders of intellectualism in philosophy, when arrived at the summit, have acknowledged the presence of emotion ; it would be surprising if pilgrims of the upward way who are not predisposed to overrate the function of intellect should give a different testimony. Yet there are many Mystics who have set the highest level before themselves as a state of soul from which Emotionality has disappeared. But their motive for this is the desire to lose the sense of selfhood altogether. Their aim is the absorption of the finite in the Infinite, the complete surrender of human personality ; will, thought, feeling, all together. For Christian Mysticism this is, of course, a false conception, but it has widely obtained outside the Christian range, and has not infre¬ quently intruded within it also. It seems to be the normal conception of Hindu religion ; and it marks as non-Christian not a few of the expressions in writings of Christian Mystics, the Theologia Germanica, for example. But for English Mysticism we may claim practical unanimity in tenaciously holding that human personality is a Divine gift, and that, high as thought and adoration may soar, there is no ground whatever for supposing that it is within the Divine purpose to recall the gift. On the contrary, He is regarded as most honoured by the retention of His own creation, provided that it is brought into perfect union with Himself. It is to those who speak of experience of such union that we turn to ask whether in it Emotionality persists. I submit some testimonies, either from religious men and women usually known only as Mystics, or from others not usually classed as such, but in whom the Mystical element is present in an eminent degree. To Richard Rolle of Hampole the love of God, when at EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 325 that height where it has become “ Singular and without a fear,” is marked with a 44 sweetness so comforting, so burning and gladdening ... so delectable and wonderful that I cannot tell it.” For Juliana of Norwich the thought of the soul dwelling in God is 44 a sight full sweet and marvellous to behold, peaceful and restful, sure and delectable.” Her rejoicing is such that 44 sometimes for plenteousness it breaketh out into voice and saith : Good Lord ! great thanks be to Thee : blessed mote Thou be.” John Smith, the Cambridge Platonist , finds the summit to be 44 a happy union of souls with God ” ; the knowledge we attain makes us amorous of divine beauty, and love 44 reciprocally exalts ” knowledge. The whole of his com¬ mendation of true religion at its height is suffused with deep feeling ; there is an intense delight, a pure affection ; a sense of gratitude for the goodness and the glory of the Eternal animates him beyond the resources of even his copious command of language to express. In minds such as these, whose fame rests on their Mysti¬ cism, the emphasis on Emotionality is taken as a matter of course and examples need not be multiplied. Let us turn to some men who gained their fame in other ways. From Bishop Butler the evidence is similar, and all the more emphatic when considered in relation to the grave and melancholic temperament with which he surveys life at its ordinary levels. In his ethical writings we have the famous vindication of Conscience ; but this amounts only to a bare statement that there is a 44 principle ” which has, or should have, controlling power over the particular passions and affections ; if this were all, man would be ruled by a power in his own nature of which he can give no account to himself. But when we pass to the sermons on the Love of our Neighbour , and still more to those upon the Love of God , we see that Butler means much more than the bare vindication of Conscience as a ruling power. Here he gives us a vindication of emotionality as against a bare claim for authority and as against dictates of pure reason. He describes the privilege of man in being capable of loving God, and inscribes over these sermons the invita- y 2 324 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES tory injunction of the Gospel to love Him with heart and mind and soul. 44 The perception of God’s presence in a nearer and stricter way ” — i. e. by intuition, no longer by reasoning — gives “joy of heart ” ; its influence “ cheers and enlivens.” He is not only the supreme object of knowledge but “ the last end and object of our affections.” Amongst all our delights in the state in which He has placed us it is Himself who is our happiness. And conscious of his own lack of facility in the language of elevated emotion, Butler closes his appeal to the lawyers of the Rolls Chapel by a full quotation of one of the most impassioned of the Psalms, giving as his final note that glowing saying, In Thy presence is the f nines s of joy ; at Thy right hand there is pleasure for evermore. One of the most remarkable studies of emotional life in the English language is the book on The Religious Affec¬ tions by Jonathan Edwards, protagonist of the Calvinistic theology of New England as he was. It would have been more widely known but for the circumstance of its being the work of an enthusiast who was seriously concerned with a surrounding prevalence of revivalists and claimants of inner light, and was as much impressed with the need of setting aside the counterfeit as of proclaiming the genuine. The result is confusing to the reader; a deeper impression would have been made if his own positive treat¬ ment had been clearly set before the mind separately and then the contrast with the counterfeit established. Jonathan Edwards is a witness for Emotionality as I am looking for it. His main thesis is that 44 true religion con¬ sists in great part in holy affections.” “ There is,” he says, “a distinction to be made between a mere notional under¬ standing, wherein the mind only beholds things in the exercise of a speculative faculty, and the sense of the heart, wherein the mind does not only speculate and behold, but relishes and feels.” At the highest point, 44 Spiritual understanding consists primarily in a sense of spiritual beauty.” For this we go direct to Perfection — 44 the first foundation of a true love of God is that whereby He is in Himself lovely or worthy to be loved, or the supreme love- EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION S25 liness of His nature.” It is not that 44 men first see that God loves them, blit they first see that God is lovely, and their hearts are captivated with this view.” This tran¬ scendent emotion is not a new 44 faculty,” for wc have already loved on a lower level ; yet it is in some ways new, he says : as perception of a simple idea is, on the Lockian principles of knowledge which he largely follows, new to the understanding or general faculty of ideas, so is the love of the Divine new in our general capacity for the affection of love. It cannot be generated from other forms of love : self-love cannot be its source, but can only lead towards it, and must give way and retire if the true affection for the Highest is to be felt. This testimony comes from a man who on the intellectual side was one of the hardest thinkers of the English race. We have learnt when we think of Newman to penetrate beyond the subtle controversialist on religious problems of the middle level, and to see the deep vein of Mysticism which lay below, not difficult to trace now that we know that we ought to look for it. One or two references must suffice here. In his sermon, The Thought of God the Stay of the Soul , he first justifies Emotionality generally : 44 Our real and true bliss is not to know, or to affect, or to pursue ; but to love, to hope, to joy, to admire, to revere, to adore.” He shows how partiality, temporariness, and other defects in finite objects prevent affections from being anything else than imperfect, whilst a full and complete outflow of our emotional capacity requires that we enter into the presence of our Creator and our Father. 44 Our happiness consists in the contemplation of God ” ; 44 the feeling attendant upon this contemplation ” is, in the minds of religious men, the substratum of the feeling of a good conscience. Man seeks God in thought, but he does so because he is 44 quick¬ ened by love,” and in the measure in which he experiences the joy of communion he is quickened to seek Him more. And in his Sermon on Religion pleasant to the Religious he appeals, in his own intense way, for approach to God on the very ground of the immeasurable superiority of the pleasure, the happiness, the joy, of the religious life. 326 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES A powerful vindication of Emotionality is given by Seeley in the volume entitled Natural Religion , a book which has, somehow, failed to win the attention that it merits. Seeley is, indeed, so strongly in its favour that he tends to place the criterion of religion in our capacity for raising feelings and affections to the height of enthu¬ siasm. The objects may be various : the scientific man’s enthusiasm for knowledge is religious, as is the ardour of the poet and the artist, and the zeal of the philanthropist. These he acclaims as of the right quality, himself passing beyond them to enthusiasm for an ultimate Personality which he nobly describes as 44 The Inspirer of kings, the Revealer of laws, the Reconciler of nations, the Redeemer of labour, the Queller of tyrants, the Reformer of churches, the Guide of the human race towards an unknown goal.” This vision makes men happy, filling them with an affection which is supreme. On the other hand, the absence of the sense of supreme excellence and the happiness which belongs to it gives a more important meaning to the term “ Atheism ” than comes from any mere deficiency in the object of thought, in Seeley’s judgment : 44 Atheism is another name for feebleness of high emotion ” ; 44 Irreligion is life without worship.” Awe, admiration, love: these are the three primary feelings which, when raised to their utmost level, constitute Religious emotion : in so far as these are permanent and habitual we have attained our height of life. II But it is not sufficient to assure ourselves that a pure and elevated Emotion and Affection has been found at the summit of human life by those who have scaled its farthest heights. We want to know what this Emotion can do in the way of introducing order over the range of emotions, affections, and desires.1 1 In the treatment of organisation we have at hand great assistance from the method of Mr. Shand and Dr. McDougall. In respect of the Religious sentiment. Dr. McDougall sets it out as a “ complex emotion.” Wonder, Admiration, Awe, Tender Emotion, and Gratitude, are all there : I should add Trust and Self-respect also. But I differ from him fundament- EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 327 If we rest satisfied with evidence for the attainment of the summit we do not get beyond the tranquillity with which Philosophy is usually supposed to rest content, and the form of Religion known as Quietism. But this has not been the final ideal either of the great philosophers of Europe or of the religious leaders of Christendom. Taking the philosophers to whom I have appealed, it is only if we take their principal formal treatises that they seem to conduct us to a solitary height and leave us there. Aristotle does not, indeed, explicitly proceed to show how the supreme happiness of Contemplation proceeds to organise its fellow emotions. But he acknowledges the need for this by his acknowledgment of the rarity of the experience of such Contemplation, and therefore of this highest emotion : Novg is but tCo dyxcg jtuxgog in the compass of intellectual life. But I agree with Dr. Stewart that Aristotle does not consider that the aim for a man is to be solely Qecogrjuxog : it is sufficient if we attribute excellence in proportion to the extent in which a life attains to this height from time to time, and then enjoys the benefit of the elevation of tone when he returns to lower levels. It is quite within Aristotle’s method, I take it, to dip down again and trace the influence of the highest in the lower levels, as, in fact, we find him implicitly doing in his subsequent treatment of the life of the citizen and in his treatment of the emotions in the Rhetoric and Poetic. Spinoza’s method is more linear and leaves him on the summit as one who has escaped from a bondage, but we can turn back for ourselves and review his study of the passions in the light of his 44 intellectual love of God,” and we find no inconsiderable material in his own treatment of concrete life in the Politico-theological Treatise. Kant himself opens the way for a study of the effects of 44 Respect ” for Reason : ally because lie does not allow the unique central feeling on which I have dwelt — the love of Perfection. The complex religious emotion varies much in different minds : the analysis of it yields different con¬ stituents for George Herbert as compared with Bunyan, for Cowper as compared with Emerson ; but we could scarcely call the Sentiment the same were it not for the innermost fibre which I hold to have been identical in all. 328 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES he expressly declares that for man the life of virtue is not victory but warfare, that absolutely pure moral reason is not within our attainment. And he says that to claim that the Moral emotion is the whole of Emotionality would be formalism of the same kind as that would look for the whole content of Morality in its single ultimate principle. Here the Stoics had gone wrong, he says. In his own Anthropology we can see how Kant considers such organising of the concrete life to proceed. In the voluminous writings of Hegel there is abundant material for tracing the efficacy of fundamental emotion in the various levels of emotional life. But within a narrowly limited space it is easier to illustrate the entry of the principal emotion upon ascend¬ ancy and control from the writings of those who have made the religious life their special concern. It is a fact that Christian Mysticism of the best kind has never rested content with Quietism : on the contrary, many even of those most famous as Mystics gave express attention to the effect of the love of God in bringing harmony over the whole range of life. “ When once the soul has become so firmly established in the habit of union with God, which is its sovereign good, all its powers are transformed,” is the teaching of even so extreme a Mystic as St. John of the Cross. It is upon the love of God that the love of neighbour is “ built as upon a basis or pillar,” as Sir Thomas Browne says : Affections are “ shows and dreams, without reality, truth or constancy; mere stories out of Pliny, tales of Boccace, apparitions or neat delusions,” when not so founded and assured of substantiality. “ Command thyself in chief : He life’s war knows Whom all his passions follow as he goes ; ” so wrote George Herbert. John Smith delights in tracing far and wide the beneficent power of the dominant emotion. Three-fourths of his principal discourse is occupied with expounding “ the properties and effects ” of religion, in EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 329 widening, enlarging and controlling the powers of the soul, in which the feelings are all along included. 44 The spirit of religion is always spreading itself through the whole essence of the soul, . . . the acquisition of true goodness brings a constant revenue of solid and substantial satisfac¬ tion to the spirit of a good man, delighting always to sit by those eternal springs that feed it.” Not suppressing or dispersing, but collecting and concentrating, is his conception of the function of the central emotion in the soul. From Butler we have not sufficient work extant — it is well known how we have only, in practical divinity, a handful of sermons rescued by his chaplain — to show whether he occupied himself in tracing the function of the love of God over the field of life. Possibly he did not give much attention to this : his method was rather statical, and except for his treatment of habit he concerned himself principally with analysis of the soul in its maturity rather than with genetic studies. In Jonathan Edwards there is ample material. He sets out to seek in life the presence of “ a beautiful symmetry and proportion,” and in the love of God he sees the source from which they can arise. From it as from a fountain flow out admirable affections. Unworthy ones cannot stand against its repelling force : or rather, they remain, but are brought into the system, turned into weapons of attack against evil things ; fear, dread, sorrow, even hatred and abhorrence remain, but they are directed against the things which offend the object of the sovereign affection. On the other hand, this takes up to itself gratitude, joy, hope : it draws into its own circle what there was of love of men, and itself incites it anew, correct¬ ing, as Edwards specially notes, its 44 perturbations.” The general result is a 44 change of nature.” And emotion¬ ality is all the while regarded as influencing activity, vigorously impelling the will to practice : there is no Quietism here ; the peace which is enjoyed is based upon the 44 beautiful symmetry and proportion.” Transformed from perturbing influences into gracious affections the emotions form a system, stable, constant, habitual. 330 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES Against this compact order the counterfeits of imperfect and misguided enthusiasms cannot stand in comparison. And yet withal it is progressive; Edwards’s view of life is thoroughly dynamical; the higher the affections are raised, the more is 44 a spiritual appetite and longing of the soul ” increased; it is only false affections which deceive us into resting satisfied; the stream of the harmonised feelings is a tide flowing wide and deep. Newman, though not so systematic as Edwards, was very fond of little excursions into genetic psychology, and he gives us many a glimpse into the formation of mental complexes, intellectual, volitional and emotional. A good example for our purpose is his sermon on The Moral Effects of Communion with God. He shows religious emotion exercising a 44 natural effect ” in spiritualising and elevating the range of feelings, 44 gradually, imperceptibly, in a most subtle way”; it pervades our 44 tastes, our likings and our motives ” ; it checks sudden likings and dislikings, it tempers and calms unsettling and dissatisfying feelings, it moderates desires of praise and fears of blame ; it assists to settle and assure the hold of the moral feelings, and offers a ground of stability upon which they may become fixed. For Seeley it must suffice to note that he ascribes to the enthusiasm which he calls religious, the power to transform legal morality into the morality of freedom, and to infuse social life with a great civilising power.1 This ordering function of the supreme sentiment is exhibited in a comprehensive way wherever Sacramen- talism and Symbolism are found. These are, indeed, most frequently employed in the sphere of knowledge : ideas of lower grade are made vehicles for the manifestation of higher ideas, from the bottom of the scale to the very summit. The recent writings of Dr. Bigg illustrate this very clearly, and Dr. Inge closes his first excursion into the study of Christian Mysticism with a fine chapter on 1 I cannot refrain from appealing here to the testimony of Browning, who, in his splendid early poem, Paracelsus , finally traces downwards the ramifications of the love which has secured victory over both power and kpowledge. EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 331 Symbolism. Quite parallel, I suggest, is the way in which feelings of the humblest order may be attached to those of more refinement, scattered feelings may be dignified by being made signs of great complexes, and the whole range of desires and affections may be made to contribute in full and harmonious flow to the richness of the soul’s life under the dominance of the love of God. The hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows that might have been, in Isaac Williams’ words, the bearers of our bier to the grave, now bear us into the region of peace and light. Before concluding it may be useful to turn for a moment from our Western world to the testimony of the Eastern mind. There, indeed, we shall find the straining for unity carried to such an intensity that we are at first inclined to think that we can learn from it nothing for our purpose. Thought seems to over-reach itself when it takes the form of the annihilation of plurality in an un¬ differentiated whole, and Emotionality is carried away with it when not only all differences of desire are swept away but even desire itself. But a more interesting phase is now being opened out by the contact of the Eastern mind with the mind of the West. The claims of concrete life are being respected and brought into place. In a volume of essays entitled Culture of the Soul among Western Nations by Mr. P. Ramanathan, Solicitor-General of Ceylon, there is some hesitancy between remitting the supreme experience of religion to solitary dignity and vindicating it as the source of order over the whole emo¬ tional field. For example, we are told that the man who has attained knowledge of eternal truth “ is found most in secluded places, from Cashmere to Cape Comorin, living in the utmost simplicity,” and thus without opportunity for further experience of other emotions and affections ; that one of the psalms on the lips of every cultured Tamil of the present day speaks of the man of religion as “ become like the dead, void of all thought, knowing no further change that in spiritual communion differentiation has ceased : so that only one emotion remains, infinite love, “ irrespective of all objects,” single and alone. But in 332 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES other places Mr. Raman athan seems glad to trace beneficent properties and effects of the supreme emotion in the lower levels : he commends the long-suffering humility of the Jnanis, their love of all things great and small, good and bad ; the disappearance of hate and resentment ; a con¬ stant sense of thankfulness. He claims that they make the best of fathers, husbands, brothers and citizens — we note with sadness that no mention is made of mothers, wives and sisters — and states that as matter of fact the largest number of Jnanis isolate themselves only for a few hours each day, and not necessarily every day, and agrees that these are the saints most useful to the world because of their “amazing fruitfulness” in service to others. Do we not here see the ideals of the East and West in conflict in a deeply reflective mind ? Impressed strongly with his racial tendency to Quietism he declares that “ rest is absolutely good, and all forms of unrest, from the highest to the lowest, are bad in relation to rest,” and yet as an active and distinguished Civil Servant he cannot suppress the conviction that well-ordered activity, with all the emotions and affections that it involves, cannot really be refused admittance into the ideal of the normal and healthy life of men. Ill If these witnesses enable us to regard the attainment of order in the life of Feeling as not only possible but as at times experienced, and as suggesting the universal ideal, we can draw out some applications which will enable us to deal with some of the objections taken to the legitimacy of the emotional factor of life. (i) It is maintained that there is no inherent source of value in the emotions ; that they are of themselves neither good nor bad. All our feelings are marked by passivity, it is urged; naOrj is the Greek term. They rise up in us unbidden by the principal and central soul : some are stirred by external influences upon us which are beyond our control ; some are most unwelcome, others are in- EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 333 different ; while the rest may indeed be pleasant, but they are uninvited guests. Their presence prevents us from being masters in our own house : the rational self is deprived of the guidance of our life. In so far as this objection implies a total depreciation of feeling and a claim for reason and knowledge alone as the proper governor of activity, an age-long controversy is raised; from the dispute between the Stoic anaOeia and the Peripatetic advocacy of regulation downwards through European history. It can only be met by the counter¬ assertion of the legitimacy of feeling : we can only affirm that for us feeling is a natural and proper mode of mental life, a legitimate constituent of the Good. Feeling in some form is always present; each several affection has its natural origin and appropriate function; “every desire is for good,” as St. Thomas says; and further, feeling is not merely an attendant upon intellectual perceptions and judgments, it has its value in itself. And the changes of feeling arise as naturally as, say, the crystallisation or the evaporation of water at the proper temperatures. (ii) But it is urged that particular feelings are capable of mischievous excess, and that therefore Feeling cannot be inherently good. In the establishment of a central feeling, and a conse¬ quential system grouped around it, I hold that we have the clue to the answer to this objection. The badness of an excess of feeling in general is not due to the intensity of the feeling itself; capacity for height and depth of emotion is surely better for us than shallowness, stolidity, and callousness, as Seeley urged. The badness arises in refer¬ ence to the whole mental economy : when general absorp¬ tion in emotion draws off mental force from activity and thinking ; when it so inhibits thinking that we act only by impulses unilluminated by intellectual light upon objects, or when we direct our attention upon the emotionality, as such, to a degree which cannot be attained without calling off attention from activity and we remain quiescent, absorbed in the enjoyment of feeling alone. And similarly 334 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES for particular emotions. Each is natural and has its function ; but it may rise to a height which impoverishes the rest of the field ; it may perturb as the usurpation of a tyrant perturbs the State. A single emotion must not suppress the rights of more complex ones, nor a complex one the rights of a still more complex; if the right of a single factor is asserted against the counter-rights of a comprehensive collection of factors we have usurpation and disorder, and we call the feeling in this situation bad. By way of illustration let us examine this statement of John Caird (Philosophy oj Religion , c. vi.): “Within the sphere of Feeling the rapture of the sensualist and the devout elevation of the saint are precisely on a level ; the one has as much justification as the other.” This melancholy opinion — which we must suppose so highly gifted a mind as John Caird’s to have written down with some pain — is due to his taking account only of intensity and pleasantness ; even stability is not mentioned. But, surely, very little analysis is required for seeing that the constituents of sensualist rapture are very few and of very lowly origin in comparison with the rich content of the religious sentiment ; that the totals of momentary intensity and pleasantness, to say nothing of stability over a period of time, are very different. While, further, the inhibitory action of the one and the comprehensive attractiveness of the other leave the one in isolated solitude wrhile the other sends its influence vibrating through the whole emotional system. True, each individual may be absorbed, the sensualist as much as the saint; but the range of indivi¬ duality is very different in the two cases. The intolerable conclusion as to equality is fallacious; the “ justification ” is very far from being equal for both. Again, the same writer says that wonder and joy and rapture are found in all religions alike, nay, they appear “ in the more sensuous and materialistic religions with even greater force than in the more rational and spiritual.” This would be sad indeed ; but only Caird’s overmastering intellectualism could have led him to suppose it to be true. The excited feelings of the participants in a pagan EMOTIONALITY : A VINDICATION 335 orgy take more violent expression — and perhaps William James would have been obliged to agree with Caird in this account — but really a very small area of feeling is con¬ cerned; the greater portion of the field lies dormant in the undeveloped natures of the devotees of “ sensuous and naturalistic ” religions. In comparison with the excitement in such narrow and such shallow vessels the apparently quiet but really far-ranging and deeply-penetrating emotion of a “rational and spiritual” worshipper contains an incomparably greater total of emotional force. For the man of high rationality and spirituality who has “ flung open the gates of the other world,” to use an ex¬ pression of Maeterlinck’s, and learnt to love what there he sees, and has thereafter learnt to love his neighbour for what is eternal in him, and following on this to embrace the whole range of being as he brings it into the light, the range of emotion that is enjoyed stands beyond challenge of comparison. This is so within the range of Emotionality itself. And when we look outside and take account of the influence upon activity and thinking, we can see how injurious is absorption in a few simple and solitary feelings. It is impossible that the guidance of such a complex as the total health of the soul can be efficiently discharged by an isolated member of so varied a system, of which each constituent has some beneficial influence which it is entitled to exercise. I see no reason for disallowing the venerable claim that merit may be assigned to emotion according to the activity which it accompanies ; the higher the quality of the evegyeia the more excellent the emotion both as to intensity and stability and pleasantness. This is agreed to by all good Platonists and Aristotelians ; it has recommended itself generally, and modern psychology is now bringing fresh evidence in its support. The main¬ tenance of the position that there are qualities in pleasure, and the clue to the assignment of different qualities is usually accepted and justified by this method. What I have been urging above welcomes this guidance, but it goes further in endeavouring to show that within emotion- 336 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES ality we can by reference to fitness for place in a system covering the whole field see the cause and ground of order of excellence among emotions, in reference to gradations of quality of pleasantness, to total intensity, and to stability alike. (iii) The other great objection to allowing independent value to the emotional side of life is that it is separative ; Emotionality is infected with subjectivity, it is urged; it belongs to the privacy of the individual soul and does not enter into the universal life of the world to which Reason, and Reason alone, admits all rational beings. This is a large issue; only a few observations can be offered in a summary way. In this central and dominant emotion for which we have contended, what have we found ? Have we not seen that it is itself an outgoing affection ? it is a desire for a perfection which is not in the seeker ; a joy in an object which is not the soul which is rejoicing, but greater than it, better in every possible constituent of being, and loved expressly for that non-subjective perfection’s sake. Upon nothing is the affection more insistent than upon the disallowance and rejection of the sufficiency of self as the principal object of interest, upon the necessity for a turning away from self if the initial step in the course of loving is to be taken. True, the self will be recovered, but it will then find in itself only a reflected interest; the true and legitimate self-feeling, enjoyable without reserve, is strictly and properly con¬ sequential upon the soul’s love for God and the perception that His love directs itself towards us. Nor is the self left in solitude in this high state of honour; all similar selves stand with it; our neighbour is seen by us in the light that flows from God, and is enveloped with the all-embracing love which we feel for Him. The com¬ plexity of social feelings is brought into the same gracious honour ; in the life of the spiritual community alone can the self find its own true life even in the enjoyment of the divine love. Self-love and social love are particular forms which are taken up and brought into congenial order by the dominating love of God. In this way the EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 337 objective order disclosed by reason and activity finds support from its correspondence with the order of the feelings and desires of the soul which has attained the summit of philosophical and religious aspiration, and has then made progress in the establishment of system over the whole field. Subjective even this ordered Emotionality is, of course ; because it is the life of the subject, but it is not 44 individual ” in the depreciatory sense, for it is not possible for a mind that is shut up in an individuality which begins and ends with its own interests. In short, such a developed Emotionality is not possible for those who have not attained to 4 4 personality,” and thereby entered upon community with others, reaching upwards towards com¬ munion with the eternal and perfect Personality. It is not the love which remains an objectless love, a yearning or an aspiration ; this may be the goal of the Hindu Jnani — 44 an infinite love irrespective of objects of love”; the testimonies to which I have appealed bear witness to a love which is directed to an object, and which, apart from belief in that object, would evaporate instead of working in the soul as a solidifying force ; would fill it with uneasi¬ ness and sorrow instead of the repose and joy which we have seen to have fallen within the experiences of these highly spiritual minds. In them love was a life in which the loving and the loved were joined together. CONCLUSION At the present time many minds are filled with in¬ tellectual doubts and difficulties 44 for the lack of a single supreme truth,” as Eucken says; a situation for which Theistic faith offers itself as a way of deliverance. This faith seeks to establish itself along various paths of mental striving. The study of the Emotional phase of life comes with an offer of confirmation if it, too, can establish in its own field the supremacy of a single emotion, the love of 338 LONDON THEOLOGICAL STUDIES God, with power to dominate and unify the whole range of the feelings and desires. Success in this region will encourage Reason to go onward in its own quest for unity and order; to rely upon the suggestions and indications, if not the absolute proofs, of the existence and dominion of the Perfect Spirituality whom religion names God. On the other hand, it ought to be a disturbing thought if Reason were to make great progress in its own search at the expense of leaving the whole of the life of emotion behind; either remitted to subjectivity and individuality, or else abandoned as in hopeless disorder and perturbation, with here and there, indeed, some admirable and welcome elements, but incapable either of unity in itself or of cor¬ relation with the rational life. The purpose of this essay has been to call witnesses for the unification that is possible in the life of feeling. We have learnt that in feelings men can pass from grade to grade of excellence, ever unfilled, until they are able to ap¬ preciate the purity of the contemplative love of perfection, the joy of being in the presence of Eternal Goodness, the beatitude which corresponds to the vision of God. And when from that height men descend they carry in their hearts a dominant emotion which is both purificatory and attractive, and enables them to bring order and rule into the varied affections and desires; any high jealousy on behalf of truth, as if it were inconsistent with the life of feeling, is dispelled, love of truth is attached, and the ardour for activity which moral goodness and rightness evoke is similarly attracted into alliance. Incurable or unruly sources of disintegration and turmoil on the one hand are inhibited, and by drawing to itself all the affections that are susceptible of subordination, co-ordination, and har¬ mony — and which are not ? — we find that feelings may be rendered wholly good and contributory to the total health of our mental life. If we are ourselves strongly Intellectualist we are re¬ lieved if it can be shown that the powerful current of Feeling can be directed into a course parallel with the gradations of intelligence ; that it need no longer be dreaded EMOTIONALITY: A VINDICATION 339 as a turbulent stream of influence obscuring intellectual vision and thwarting intellectual processes. As we shall move freely if we can be assured that there is a substratum of philosophical ideas under the conceptions of science, so we shall lift up our hearts if there is a possibility of a love of perfection, a sentiment of religion, which can act as a dominant source of unification and order in the accom¬ panying emotional life. If we are among those whose psychology of belief leads them always to assign to the feelings important and legitimate influence as well in their own sphere as in the direction of intellectual processes, we shall even more gladly welcome evidence for the capability of the feelings for being brought into order. The possibility of this relieves us from such a chilling forecast as that of Ribot ( Psychology of the Emotions ), that the advance of the mind’s intellectual powers involves the “ weakening of Emotionality.” On the contrary, we hold that the Non stupor, sect Amor of the Christian Ethic is as far removed from either Hindu suppression or Intellectual - ist fading away as it is from mere hysterical stupefaction. We find in Emotion a function so highly beneficial, so indispensable for full vitality, that we confidently include in our ideal of human character a permanent and un¬ measurable richness of emotional sensibility; not indeed as yet thoroughly brought into complete order, but moving in that direction and full of promise that progress will be continual. The soul in which the love of God reigns is rich in generous and noble affections almost infinite in variety, which are by its gracious influence constituted into a harmony in which place is found for a derivative and subordinated love of all created things. Love redeems from bondage and purifies from evil by itself entering into the heart of every desire and every affection, and by its own essential goodness it transforms them into constituents of that unified manifold in which the soul finds the fulness of life PRINTED FOR THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON PRESS, LTD., BY RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BUNGAY. Princeton heological Seminary Libraries 012 01236 2648 Date Due •* ■ W ' jQ * r, " - ’-J. * \ y r J fKCVJL* 1 i 3SBI ■ft ~ h „^ayg WTrit jiUjStaw^r Ig1 f y f -