I" "-I

.•^^

Mr
• 111 «iii •
¦I .) I'M l->»iBpS>.. ll - I w
rt I j ¦» •¦' jS n ..
J 1 J -i I. - -j
, u-BSC-i --¦ ¦ ¦"¦ •'

'Y^L]E«¥Ma¥EI^S]Iir¥-

BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME
OF THE
John Elliott Fund

THE RELIGION OF POWER
HARRIS E. KIRK. D.D.

THE RELIGION
OF POWER

A STUDY OP CHRISTIANITY IN RELA
TION TO THE QUEST FOR SALVATION IN i
THE GR^CO-ROMAN WORLD, AND ITS
SIGNIFICANCE FOR THE PRESENT AGE

BY
HARRIS E. KIRK, D.D.

Second Edition

NEW ^ijr YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

I -'-At,

COPTBIQHT, 1916,
Bt GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

)
'A

M

ec 26
316 Vi

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

TO
MY WIFE,
BEST FRIEND, FAITHFUL CRITIC
AND fellow worker.

PREFACE
This book is the outcome of personal experi
ence. When I began my ministry, I was quite
content to preach what I had been taught to
beheve, but when the need for a more intimate
appropriation of truth became urgent, I sought
to gratify it in some form of philosophy, being
willing for the most part to translate historical
conceptions of religion into the more or less com
plex terms of modern thought.
It soon became evident, however, that this was
superficial. There was need for a firmer hold on
truth, especially for an appreciation of the sta
bilising influence of the great past ; and my mind
turned towards the causal significance of Chris
tianity. This book is the result of a fresh endeavour to
interpret Christian experience for myself; and
whatever degree of confidence is imparted to the
central affirmations of this course of lectures is due
to a series of convictions rooted and grounded in
historic reality. I believe that Christianity is the
religion of power because I have experienced it in
my own Hfe. I beheve that Jesus Christ is the
ix

X PREFACE
Son of God and that His gospel is the final and
complete adjustment of the human spirit to its
eternal relationships.
Naturally, what we have found to be true for
ourselves we believe to be of some importance to
others. In this spirit I send forth this book in
the hope that it may aid inquiring minds to find
Him who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life."
H. E. K.

CONTENTS
INTRODUCTORY
lECTITBE PAGE
I. The Westward Movement of Christianity 15
PART ONE: THE QUEST FOR SAFE
CONDUCT
II. The Ritual Quest for Safe Conduct . . 49
III. The Ethical Quest Among the Greeks . 81
IV. The Ethical Quest Among the Romans . 115
V. The Legal Quest Among the Jews . . 147
PART TWO: THE RELIGION OF
POWER
VI. Christianity as the Religion of Power . 177
VII. Christianity as a Justifying Power . . 209
VIII. Christianity as a Constructive Power . 239
CONCLUSION
IX. The Finality of Christianity . . . 271
Index  309

INTRODUCTORY

LECTURE I
THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT OF CHRISTIANITY

LECTURE I
THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT OF CHRISTIANITY'
The purpose of this course of lectures is to study
Christianity as the religion of power in relation
to its Graeco-Roman background. In shaping
the materials I have kept steadily in mind the
requirements of a number of people who desire
to put behind the sentiments and impulses of re
ligious experience a body of rich and deep con
viction. The need of religious convictions develops from
experience. We begin with a simple and un
critical faith in the facts of Christianity as they
are presented to us by environment. The influ
ence of the home and the church usually deter
mines such matters for us. But as experience de
velops, it brings our faith into comparison with
the beliefs and life of the world, and this makes a
fresh interpretation necessary. We begin to ask
ourselves if what we were taught to believe is
really true. We wish to know if there is a rea
sonable basis for faith, and ordinarily we seek ad-
15

16 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ditional information by examining the sources of
our experience.
The range of such an inquiry wUl vary accord
ing to the desire of the individual, but the result
will be a growth of convictions on what we re
gard as essential points. If we care to pursue the
inquiry further we may reduce our beliefs to sys
tem and get theology; and if we wish to go still
further we may extract the essence from our the
ology and get a creed, which would be a clear
statement of all that we believe concerning Christ
and Christianity.
Most people are content with a simple faith, be
ing willing to follow the teaching and example of
their religious environment. Few people become
theologians, and very few have a definite idea of
a personal or self -selected creed.
There is, however, a minority that requires some
thing more than a simple faith. People of this
type are obliged by their intellectual necessities to
investigate the basal significance of experience.
They are unable to trust so important a matter to
impulse. They need ideas as well as emotions.
They do not require a complete theology, but they
must have clear cut, conscientious convictions on
essential points. Their passion is to "get to know
Christ." This yv&s a Pauhne ambition and should
be encouraged. Any one who knows this modern

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 17
world realises the urgency and sincerity of such a
demand. An intelligent man without religious
convictions is as helpless as a passenger ship in
midocean without a navigator. The nurture of
the inteUigence is as important an element in
spiritual growth as the cultivation of the affec
tions or the discipline of the will.
It is this class to which I make my appeal.
We are in this world not simply to hold or to en
joy a faith, but to propagate a faith. We are, or
ought to be, the passionate advocates of salvation
through Jesus Christ. But we cannot ask others
to be Christians unless we are reasonably sure of
our own status. It is not enough to have spirit
ual emotions: we must have ideas that explain
these emotions, for without ideas faith cannot be
propagated. Ideas are the hooks of faith that
stick into the intelligence ; they are the framework
around which emotions grow, and character forms.
Naturally we beheve that what is true for our
selves must be important for others; and if we
have convinced ourselves that we have a reason
able basis for faith, we shall not hesitate to chal
lenge the world's intelligence in the effort to im
part it.
If convictions are important, it is the better
part of wisdom to select the best possible method
of forming them. Shall we develop them in the

18 THE RELIGION OF POWER
interest of a philosophy of religion, or shape them
round the historic facts of Christianity? ShaU
our interest lie chiefly in the relation of proposi
tions to each other in behalf of a system, or in a
series of events in human history? Both methods
are important, but I prefer the historical to the
philosophical approach to the question, and for
what seems to be a very practical reason.
Whatever philosophy of religion one may hold,
must always be determined by the view one has
of its historic significance. We must begin with
history. But the peculiar temptation that waits
on philosophy is the exaggeration of theoretic
explanations. It is easier to suit the facts of
history to one's theory than to bring one's the
ory into harmony with historic facts. And if
we adopt the historic approach, it might turn out
that we can not only begin, but end our view of re
hgion in its history; we might get along without
philosophy, because we should get an adequate
view of religious truth from an historical stand
point. Most assuredly the power of religious
conviction does not depend on one's ability to sys
tematise religious truth. The realism of convic
tion is derived from actual contact with historic
events. For history reveals something more than
reasons; it reveals causes; it exhibits the causal
significance of Christianity. It shows us a re-

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 19
ligion of power, dynamic unto the saving of souls.
If we can shape our convictions on the causal
aspect we may dispense with system.
It is clear that the inteUigent man of to-day is
not asking for a complete system of religious
truth. He cannot be interested, save in a super
ficial way, in a phUosophy of rehgion. Philoso
phies of rehgion are more admired than read.
But the modern man does believe in power; he
knows power when he sees it, and he has a very
clear notion that power makes history.
It is upon the causal significance of Christian
ity that I wish to lay the emphasis. I am not in
different to its philosophy, but I beheve that ap
preciation of its power in history is sufficient to
give reality and strength to faith, and to stabUise
life in the face of many speculative problems
which we may never be able to solve.
And I am encouraged to take this position by
a recent statement of Mr. Balfour. In his Gif
ford lectures he has called attention to the double
aspect of beliefs : "All beliefs have a position act
ually, or potentiaUy, in a cognitive series; all be
liefs, again, have a position, known or unknown,
in a causal series. AU beliefs, in so far as they
belong to the first kind of series, are elements in
one or more coUections of interdependent propo
sitions. They are conclusions, or premises, or

20 THE RELIGION OF POWER
both. All behefs, in so far as they belong to the
second kind of series, are elements in the tem
poral succession of interdependent events. They
are causes, or effects, or both," ^ This is an im
portant distinction. We may regard our beliefs
about Christianity as belonging either to a cogni
tive or to a causal series. Our aim may be either
a complete system of religious truth, or an ade
quate interpretation of religious experience. The
first is the legitimate object of the theologian, the
latter is the practical demand of ordinary intelli
gence. The average man is not interested in the
more or less successful attempt to systematise a
series of interdependent propositions; but he is
tremendously concerned with the effort to under
stand his relation to the causal aspect of rehgion.
For whatever we may think of religious experi
ence one thing is clear and that is that it is caused.
Our experience is an effect; and the greater the
spiritual maturity, the keener is the conviction
that we are what we are by the grace of God.
To believe in the causal aspect of Christianity;
to have a few clear ideas of its function in individ
ual experience seems to me to be the chief demand
of the time among those whose intellectual re
quirements force them to seek for something more
than a simple and uncritical faith.
^ "Theism and Humanism," pp. 58-59.

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 21
The power of Christianity is revealed in his
tory. It has produced a series of interdependent
events in the domain of man's life, and there is al
ways something quite definite about history. His
toric events are real. Let it be frankly admitted
(since I have no disposition to deny it) that our
personal attitude towards the claims of Jesus
Christ will in some measure determine our view
of the facts of Christianity; stiU it remains true,
and on this alone I wish to insist, there is a cer
tain fixed minimum of unchangeable fact, a defi
nite deposit of indestructible truth in history, on
which to base one's conclusions. I am far from
saying that a complete system of religious truth is
unattainable; to many it may appear quite de
sirable or even necessary; but what I do main
tain is that we need not wait for this to become
Christians. In my judgment we have enough in
the history of Christianity to justify faith, and a
closer contact with its causal significance will en
able us to be strong and stable believers, in spite
of the want of a complete theory of religion.
The most convincing facts of history are the
ethical facts. Professor Meyers has recently de
fined history "as past ethics."^ The degree in
which the moral ideal is expressed in history, is
^ See an interesting discussion of the idea in "History As
Past Ethics," chapter 1.

22 THE RELIGION OF POWER
the measure of our confidence in the explana
tions given by those who shared in the experience
of its power. It cannot be questioned that Paul's
account of the power that transformed his life is
more convincing than an explanation coloured by
present-day phUosophy. For one thing, he was
closer to the facts, and for another, his account
resembles the one usually derived from our own
experience. The Christian knows that his experience is an
effect, and his intelhgence demands some explana
tion of its cause. He does not ask for a complete
theory; he wants an interpretation of the power
that is functioning in his conscious life.
And it is a great step in the direction of sim
plicity to remember that Christianity is deeply
rooted in history; and that its history is interpreted
in a series of trustworthy documents written for
the most part by those who from the first were
experimentally acquainted with its transforming
power. The need for religious conviction is met in
the New Testament by doctrines. We may think
of rehgious doctrines as belonging either to a
cognitive or to a causal series. In the one case
we have a series of interdependent propositions, in
the other a series of causal explanations.
I believe that doctrine belongs to both series.

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 23
On the one hand doctrines are revelations of ob
jective truth. They may be, and ought to be
worked up into a system, simply because they are
organicaUy related. The church must have a
systematic theology, if it is to furnish adequate
instruction to its members. In addition to theol
ogy the church requires a creed; but the plain
truth is that the church does not succeed in mak
ing theologians of its members. Few are capable
of understanding a theological system; and
fewer still have ever felt the necessity of holding
a definite credal statement of all religious beliefs.
Most people are content to accept the creed made
and provided by the church of their preference.
But this conventional position by no means in
dicates the real attitude of the individual towards
Christ and Christian truth. His real interest is
not in a series of inter-related beliefs, so much as
in the causal significance of Christianity. He is
more interested in causes than in reasons because
he is usually more impressed with power than with
theories. I beheve religious doctrines have this
additional aspect. They belong not only to a
cognitive but to a causal series. They are not
only true, but usefvd, and were in some measure
devised to meet the need of growing intelligence,
with specific reference to this point, namely: to
explain the function of the power which in the

M THE RELIGION OF POWER
beginning had originated a divine life within the
soul. Doctrines are descriptive of function; they
explain how Christ's redemptive power functions
in individual experience.
If Christianity is the religion of power it wUl
manifest itself in individual life. Knowledge of
its function is necessary to a stable faith because
it explains the utUity and practical necessity of
ideas on the main subject of religion. We do
not know the nature of electricity ; we do not need
to understand the theory of the dynamo, that of
course is professional knowledge; but We must
know something of the function of electricity if
we are to use it safely. We must study its habits
and learn how to control it in the interests of our
practical needs. Now the habits of this mysteri
ous power are its functions. Increased knowledge
of function means enlarged utility. Electricity
has a lighting function, but it is capable of other
uses. It has a heating function, it is useful
as motive power, and above all it has a therapeu
tic function. The great utility of this mysteri
ous force is due to a growing knowledge of func
tion, or in other words to the doctrines of elec
tricity. It is even so with the power of Chris
tianity. It is rooted in the mysterious nature of
the eternal God. The finite mind can never fully
comprehend the Infinite intelligence. Theories of

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 2S
rehgion are limited by this essential fact. But
stability in faith turns, not on theory, but on a
reasonable knowledge of the functional signifi
cance of divine power in the experience of the
individual. The more he knows of j^unction, the
stronger and more vital will be his experience.
From this standpoint there is a vast need of teach
ing doctrine. I believe there is an intense desire
among inteUigent people for a clearer knowledge
of their rehgious experience. The teaching of
doctrines will meet this need, for they are descrip
tions of function; a knowledge of function is an
element in a stable faith. Moreover the realisa
tion of the truth that Christianity is power will
come, I think, from a functional interpretation
of religious teaching.
Such an interpretation will gain vividness from
a study of the background of early Christianity.
It is easy to contrast Christianity with the re
hgious and ethical views current in the Graeco-
Roman world at the time of the Advent. The im
portance of such a study has long been recognised
by scholars; I believe that such an investigation
wiU prove a valuable discipline for growing Chris
tians. The study of the background brings into clear
relief the originality of the new religion. Chris
tianity is not a philosophy, neither is it a ritual;

26 THE RELIGION OF POWER
it is fundamentally the religon of power. Its
unique significance does not lie in the novelty of its
ideas, but in its motive force. Its power has made
history; it has created and sustained a community
of representative persons, and transmitted a tradi
tion which a sound Bibhcal criticism has never dis
turbed. Moreover, it has offered a Person as the
object of faith, who is able to impart moral and
spiritual vitality to every one who is willing to re
ceive Him. Man's mind craves ideas but man's
soul longs for communion with the living God.
We can never be content to trust ourselves to a
series of concepts however true they may be; we
need and must have personal contact with a Per
son. Jesus Christ stands there, the one luminous
spot in the world's darkness, a fixed and inde
structible fact of history. He cannot be explained
away. The philosophic tides of the world have for
centuries surged round His base, but He stands
out above them all hke a great rock in a restless
sea. He is the Desire of all the nations, and holds
in His hands the key to the human heart, and is
the final and complete adjustment of the human
spirit to the issues of eternity.
The chief purpose of this series is to present
Christianity as the rehgion of power, as it is re
vealed in certain of its characteristic documents;
to observe its function in the unique experience of

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 27
its community life, and to set forth its originality
as it appears on its Graeco-Roman background.
In the first lecture we shall consider the west
ward movement of Christianity, To the back
ground we shall devote the next four lectures,
wherein we shaU study the passion for adjustment
between God and man, which manifested itself in
certain historic quests for safe conduct. In one
lecture we shaU take up the conception of power
and show how it was expressed in the resurrection
of Jesus, and in the creation of the Christian com
munity. In two lectures we shall consider the
functional aspect of three characteristic Christian
doctrines. In the concluding lecture we shall give
some reasons for believing in the finality of Chris
tianity, and its importance for the present age.
The study of the westward movement of Chris
tianity brings to our attention the interesting con
dition of the world at the time of the Advent.
This movement is explained by the fact that while
the way was closed towards the Jew, it was open
towards Rome and the gentile world.
The Jew was fated to mistake his destiny. God
intended him to be a missionary of religion, but
he persistently misconceived his calling and al
lowed poUtical ambitions to confuse his spiritual
outlook so as to preclude the possibihty of ac
cepting his Messiah. No people have ever loved

28 THE RELIGION OF POWER
freedom more than the Jewish race, yet no peo
ple have so profoundly confused political with
spiritual liberty. At the time of the Advent it
was practically impossible for the Jew to think
of a spiritual experience apart from political free
dom. He wanted a Messiah whose kingdom was
of this world, and this secular aim was respon
sible for his tragic failure.
A more specific reason for the failure of Chris
tianity to move eastward is to be found in the
divisions among the Jewish people. The domi
nant parties in church and nation were Pharisees
and Sadducees.
The Pharisee was a religious patriot, and his
remarkable influence over Israel was due to the
peculiar development of Jewish religion that fol
lowed the Babylonian exile. Prior to the exile
the Jew never thought of questioning his religious
status because he was a child of Abraham and a
member of the covenant race; but after the exile
[religion became a more intimate and personal
matter. The old communal morality was set aside
in favour of individual morality ; and with the col
lapse of the Jewish city-state the need of a definite
and personal way of salvation became paramount.
The question before the Jew was how to get in
right relations with God, and how to keep himself
in right relations ? The answer was given in terms

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 29
of legal obedience to the revealed law. But since
the law required interpretation the order of
Scribes arose, and with them a body of oral tradi
tion which shortly was added to the written law,
and this composite of revelation and tradition
was the authoritative standard of Jewish religion.
This tendency to exalt the law, by the end of the
second century, B. C, had developed into the
party of the Pharisees, who through the syna
gogue worship attained a vast influence over Jew
ish life and opinion. Believing as they did that
spiritual freedom was conditioned by political
freedom, the Pharisees were consistent opponents
of foreign influences and in the time of Christ
their ruling passion was to drive the Roman out
of Palestine. Their patriotic ambitions tempted
them to interpret the Messianic hope in a national
and secular way ; they believed that Messiah's mis
sion would be to establish the law and nation and
give the Jew spiritual and political authority over
the world. It is hardly necessary to suggest how
utterly unlike to the real kingdom of Christ this
notion was. The complete difference between the
ideals of Jesus and those of the Pharisees suffi
ciently explains why this class could not welcome
Christianity. The Sadducees were religious liberals. Their
interest in tradition was limited by the desire to

30 THE RELIGION OF POWER
preserve their priestly privUeges intact. They
were men of the temple just as the Pharisees were
men of the synagogue. In politics, they were op
portunists. They did not object to foreign in
fluences ; in fact their fixed policy was to preserve
the status quo. Above aU they had no wish to
antagonise Rome, and were willing that the nation
endure any sort of political bondage, provided
they were unmolested in the enjoyment of their
privileges. The chief fear of the Pharisees was
heresy, that of the Sadducees was sedition. The
Pharisees opposed Christ because of His attitude
towards the law; the Sadducees opposed Him be
cause His dominion threatened the political and
ecclesiastical supremacy of their order.
Under these circumstances it was impossible for
either of these powerful orders to accept Chris
tianity. Their opposition was inevitable. At first
they were not able to form an opinion of the
facts; but when they did realise the drift of
Christ's teaching they were perfectly willing to
sacrifice Him rather than give up their preten
sions. These parties controlled the Jewish church
and effectively closed the way towards Judaism.
There was a class among the Jews deserving
the highest consideration. They were called the
"devout in Israel." This was the (Jodiy remnant
spoken of by the prophets that waited the advent

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 31
of a spiritual Messiah; but they had little influ
ence on the policies of the nation. Among this
class we find such as Simeon and Nathaniel, the
parents of John the Baptist, and the mother of
Jesus. They were ready to receive the Messiah
and welcomed the missionary character of the new
religion, but they could not vitally change the at
titude of the nation.
But whUe the door was closed towards Judaism
and the East, it was open towards Rome and the
gentile world. It was a world of violent and vivid
contrasts and its outstanding features are easUy
grasped. In the first place it was an age of profound
confusion and disappointment. It was a time of
political disenchantment. The last century be
fore Christ was distinguished by the breakdown
of the Roman repubhc. The ancient politicajl'
organisation was found to be inadequate for the
new needs. The failure of the old safeguards had
developed a wide spread feeling of insecurity in
all departments of life, and nowhere was this so
evident as in moral and spiritual matters. For
several centuries the native faith had been on
the decline. This religion was so closely identified
with the fortunes of the state, that whatever in-
stabUity appeared in political relationships was
immediately reflected in the religious attitude.

32 THE RELIGION OF POWER
The Roman religion depended on the city-state;
but as the city-state gave way to the Roman com
monwealth, and eventually developed into an em
pire, faith in the native religion was permanently
impaired. The views of the intelhgent Roman of
the last days of the republic are reflected in the
writings of Cicero. Cicero had no personal faith
in the native religion, but he believed its revival
to be a poUtical necessity. Government needed a
religious sanction, and politicians of Cicero's type
were quite wUling to restore the old religion; or
even to improve it by the addition of the best ele
ments of current philosophies or desirable fea
tures of the Oriental religions which were then
very popular in Rome. But in spite of this the
pessimism of the time is expressed in the pas
sionate scepticism of Lucretius, or even in the
gracious humanism of Virgil, that best of poets;
while the need for stability is quite apparent in
the strenuous efforts made by Augustus to revive
interest in the native faith.
In the second place it was an age of intense re
ligious inquiry. Eras of political disUlusion have
usually been eras of religious revival. Political
disturbances ordinarily set men on fresh spiritual
adventures, for where faith in government is im
paired the need for protection becomes acute, and
it is natural to seek for it in religion. In the

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 33
case of the Romans, when they could no longer
trust themselves to the native gods, they turned
eagerly to other and newer cults. This accounts
for the wide spread influence of the Oriental mys
tery religions in the time of Christ. Magna Mater
and Isis were especiaUy influential.
The intelhgent classes, while not indifferent to
religion, usually sought peace in some sort of phi
losophy. The philosophies of Greece, especially
as they had been interpreted by such men as Pa-
naetius and Posidonius, were accessible to the in
telligent man, and the influence of Stoicism and
Epicureanism was far reaching. In all walks of
life men were willing to discuss religion or re
ligious philosophy. It was felt that an epoch of
history was closing; the world was on the thres
hold of fresh departures and every one needed
spiritual guidance.
These conditions make it easy to understand
that the gentile world was ready for the Chris
tian propaganda, and the readiness to receive the
new religion was aided by two factors of the first
importance. The first factor was the influence
of the Jew of the dispersion, the second, the re
ligious aspirations of God-fearing gentiles.
The first factor directly favourable to the expan
sion of Christianity was the wide spread dispersion
of the Jew. For centuries the world had been in a

34 THE RELIGION OF POWER
state of flux. Since Alexander's conquests peo
ples and races mingled freely, and when the
Roman rule was firmly established it was almost
as easy to travel about the world as it is to-day.
At the Advent there were between five and eight
million Jews resident in the Roman empire. The
Jew was the most clannish of peoples, and he made
his racial solidarity evident everywhere, Judaism
was a "religio Ucita" in the empire during the
early days of the Christian propaganda. Freed
from the burdensome restrictions thrown round
other foreign faiths, and protected by law in the
exercise of his peculiar forms of worship, the Jew
naturally attained a considerable influence as a re
ligious factor, wherever his worship was estab
hshed. The religious bond of the Jew was the
synagogue. In every town and hamlet, as well
as the metropolis, you would find the spiritual in
terest of the Jew centring in the synagogue. He
always selected a commandiug site for his house
of worship, and the peculiarity of this religion
naturally attracted the attention of the gentile
peoples. The religion taught in these provincial syna
gogues differed in many important particulars
from that of the Palestinian Jew. It was more
liberal; less limited to ritual expressions and apt
to emphasise ethical monotheism. Moreover the

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 35
Jew revealed to that melancholy age a contented
and on the whole a happy life. The worship of the
true God gave him a foothold beyond time and
he was able to stand out above his age as a strong
and stable force. Furthermore, he was fuU of
missionary zeal and laboured to propagate his faith
among the gentiles. This faith was the expres
sion of the highest type of ethical monotheism
known in those times, and the propaganda was
aided by the Greek version of the Old Testament
Scriptures. It is impossible to overestimate the
importance of such a factor in preparing the way
for Christianity.
The second factor of importance favourable to
the spread of the new religion was the spiritual as
pirations of God-fearing gentiles. This class is fre
quently mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles.
Paul makes specific reference to them in his speech
at Pisidian Antioch; Cornelius, the first uncircum
cised gentile admitted to the church, Lydia, the
seUer of purple, and Justus, in whose house at
Corinth Paul organised a church, were God-
fearers. We hear of them in Thessalonica and
Athens. The Greeks who came to Jesus in the
passion week probably belonged to this class. The
centurion of the gospels, who loved his servant, was
also of the number. He is said to have loved the
Jewish nation, and to have built them a syna-

36 THE RELIGION OF POWER
gogue. They are variously described as "those
that feared God," "those that worshipped God" ;
sometimes as "the devout" and once as "rehgious
proselytes." Up to recent times the God-fearers were iden
tified with proselytes of the gate, and their sig
nificance was not clearly recognised; but recent
investigations have conclusively shown that they
were not proselytes at aU. They never submitted
to the distinctive rite of circumcision, but con
stituted what Schurer, our chief authority, has de
scribed as a "fringe of devout heathenism round
the Jewish synagogue." * The God-fearer never
intended to become a regular proselyte, but he
accepted the monotheism and ethical standards of
the synagogue worship. In some respects he ob
served the ceremonial law, notably that of tithing
'or of Sabbath keeping; he gave moral and often
material support to the Jewish propaganda, and
in many other ways aided in the spread of ideas
favourable to Christianity.
But the God-fearing gentUe is significant of
much more than this. His rehgious aspiration
shows that there were many in that age passion
ately seeking the true God. They had outgrown
the native religion, they were too high minded to
^ See Kirsopp Lake, "Earlier Epistles of St. Paul," pp.
37-40.

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 37
f aU under the sensuous spell of the Oriental cults ;
moreover they were not content with current phi
losophies, but had grouped themselves round the
Jewish synagogue, a body of receptive learners.
They represent on gentile soil the ideal Jew after
God's own heart and may properly be classed with
those who were looking for the world's Saviour.
It was from this class that the largest and most
influential accessions to Christianity came. They
eagerly welcomed the new faith. When Paul was
preaching in Corinth, in spite of Jewish protests,
the majority of the God- fearers went over to the
new religion and organised a Christian church in
the house of Justus, one of their number. What
took place in Corinth frequently happened in
other places. If Paul felt it important to make a
special appeal to this class in his speech at Pisi
dian Antioch, it is natural to suppose that he
would do it elsewhere. It was the wholesale de
sertion of these powerful auxiharies as much as
the strangeness of the new teaching that occa
sioned the bitter hostility of the Jews towards the
Christian propaganda.
This explains the rapid spread of Christianity
over the gentile world. Granted a people suffer
ing from poUtical and rehgious disillusion, in pas
sionate search of a way of life, and keenly inter
ested in religious discussions; granted an age in-

38 THE RELIGION OF POWER
creasingly under the influence of two powerful
factors, such as the Jew of the dispersion and the
God-fearing gentUe, and all that was needed for
a rapid spread of the new religion would be an
enthusiastic presentation of its central message.
It was the concurrence of these notable factors:
a passionate missionary propaganda and a world
eager for its message that carried the gospel from
its provincial surroundings in Jerusalem to the
heart of the world's metropolis, and transformed
it from a small Jewish sect into a religion of
conscious power and universal mission.
The story of the westward movement is told
in the Acts of the Apostles, a book of first rate
historical importance not only because it is the
only account we have of the beginnings of church
history, but also because it was written by a man
who had the historic sense developed in a remark
able degree. Recent investigations have practi
cally demonstrated the fact that this book was writ
ten by Luke, a gentUe physician and companion
of Paul, at Rome during Paul's first imprison
ment,* Luke alone among New Testament writers
had a genuine historical spirit. He is not an
annalist but a biological historian. His aim is to
describe a great movement and he selects his facts
* Harnack: "Luke the Physician; Date of Acts and the
Synoptic Gospels." Crown Theological Library.

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 39
with special reference to its development. He was
intensely aware of the dramatic qualities of his
tory, and masses his facts so as to reveal the under
lying principle of growth and enable the reader to
follow the story to a logical conclusion.
Luke's aim is to tell the story of how Chris
tianity moved out of Jerusalem and the Jewish
world to become a world religion in the metropolis
of gentile civihsation. It is a story so vividly told
that it captures the imagination, yet of such clarity
and massive strength as to produce in a reasonable
mind the strongest sort of persuasion of its truth.
The story faUs into three divisions: first there
is the stage of beginnings, centring at Jerusalem,
in which Peter is the leader; second there is the
stage of transition centring in Antioch of Syria,
in which Barnabas and Saul are the leaders; and
third there is the story of culmination centring
at Rome, in which PaiU is the leader.
Beginning in Jerusalem on the day of Pente
cost, we get the primitive conception of Chris
tianity. The new faith is still organically related
to the old, and the teaching is offered solely to
Jews and proselytes under the shadow of the
temple. The testimony of the infant church is
given in Peter's sermon and is concerned with
Jesus of Nazareth. This teaching was limited to
three things : first, Jesus was the Jewish Messiah,

40 THE RELIGION OF POWER
second, the resurrection was proof of His Messiah-
ship, and third, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit
was a demonstration of Messiah's power to save.
At first the propaganda occasioned no decided
break with the Jewish authorities. Futile efforts
under the lead of the Sadducees failed for want of
support from the Pharisees. The latter were dis
posed to let well enough alone. Jesus was dead,
the movement could not last, and in so far as the
resurrection teaching was concerned, this was in
some respects in sympathy with their OAvn beliefs.
The disciples seemed to be a band of mistaken re
formers: why not let them alone? This view was
reflected in the speech of Gamaliel. It was true
that the enthusiasm of the disciples was ?discon
certing, but the authorities were little disposed at
that time to interfere.
But an incident occurred shortly after that
made it imperative that the two great parties in
the Jewish church should forget their differences
and unite to suppress the new faith. Rapid growth
in the church occasioned a division of labour and
certain deacons had been chosen, among whom
was Stephen, a Jew of the dispersion, with pro
found insight into the radical character of the new
religion and considerable ability as an orator.
The speech of Stephen was the beginning of the
period of transition and brought the infant com-

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 41
munity to a fuU consciousness of the significance
of its faith, Stephen's sermon reflects the think
ing of a Jew of the dispersion, who while loyal
to ancient traditions is stiU broadminded and
catholic in his view of truth. He asserted his
belief in the divine significance of ancient tradi
tion. Undoubtedly both law and temple were
divine institutions; and of course this was the
conviction of a true child of Abraham, But he
asserted in addition that since Jesus had come,
both law and temple had been superseded; and
that all that was essential to Judaism had been
taken over into the new religion.
The radical nature of such teaching is obvious
since it at once set aside everything that Pharisee
and Sadducee believed Judaism to be. The im
mediate effect was the martyrdom of Stephen, the
closing up of the ranks among contending fac
tions, and the beginning of an organised move
ment to suppress the new faith. It is a dramatic
example of poetic justice that the man selected to
lead this campaign of extermination should have
been destined to become the chief advocate of the
despised religion.
The historian proceeds to describe the effect of
persecution on the fortunes of the infant church.
We see the birth of missionary zeal, and the
spread of the gospel through Samaria into Syria,

42 THE RELIGION OF POWER
We hear of a notable ministry of Philip, and of
an unprecedented admission of an uncircumcised
gentile into the membership of the church. With
dramatic fulness, Saul's conversion is described,
but little is said of his long retirement in Tarsus.
Resuming the main thread of his narrative,
Luke tells of the rapid development of the church
in Antioch of Syria. This movement was so im
portant that it was deemed best to supervise it
from Jerusalem, and Barnabas, a Cypriote Jew,
was sent to direct the work. Barnabas was a dis
cerning man and from the outset had been Saul's
friend. He now summons him from his retreat
in Tarsus and under the joint leadership of these
two men the church attained to such distinction
that the disciples were first caUed Christians at
Antioch. Hitherto they had been known as "peo
ple of the way," a sect of Judaism, but it was now
evident that this was a mistake.
The difference between Judaism and Christian
ity at once raised the question as to terms of ad
mission for gentiles. Were they to be admitted
to church feUowship on terms of faith and repent
ance, or must they first become proselytes to
Judaism? Cornelius it is true had entered the
church on the simple terms of faith and repent
ance, but this was regarded as an exception. The

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 43
church at Antioch had been founded on the same
terms, but this had been done by certain name
less disciples without the authority of the church
in Jerusalem. Should the authorities of the par
ent church insist upon the more rigid terms, or
accept the inevitable and allow gentiles to become
Christians without becoming proselytes?
At first the question was aUowed to drift; a
private agreement between Saul and the Jeru
salem authorities opened the way for a foreign
mission and the church at Antioch sent out Bar
nabas and Saul as the first missionaries to heathen
lands. But this gave great offence to Jewish Christians
of the stricter sort, and when Paul returned from
the first mission journey the need for an official
deliverance on the question was paramount. Such
a deliverance was made by the great council of
Jerusalem, in favour of the liberal policy. Gen
tiles were to be admitted to church fellowship
on faith and repentance, without reference to their
attitude towards Judaism. This was a far reach
ing decision, for it enabled Christianity forever
to cast off its Jewish limitations; but it was not
accepted as final by the stricter type of Jewish
Christian, and the opposition finally developed an
anti-Pauline missionary society known as the Ju-

44 THE RELIGION OF POWER
daizers, whose pernicious activities troubled the
church for years after,®
The council of Jerusalem closed the period of
transition and opened that of culmination. Freed
from the hampering influence of Palestine, Paul
came to his own as the Apostle to the gentiles;
one by one the great centres of population fell
under the spell of his wonderful ministry, and
churches sprang up in Thessalonica, Philippi,
Corinth and Ephesus, Paul wisely followed the
trade routes and planted Christianity in places
from which it would quickly spread to Rome, The
glorious church which had grown so influential in
the metropolis is evidence of the quick dispersion
over the gentile world,
Paul's ambition was world-wide. At the end of
his third journey he contemplated a fourth which
should carry him to Spain, at that time supposed
to be the end of civihsation. During this journey
he proposed to realise a long cherished desire to
see Rome. The rest of Luke's story is taken up
with the partial realisation of this plan. It is a
story of Jewish intrigue : of tumults in Jerusalem,
of narrow escapes and night alarms; of disputa
tions and imprisonments in Cgesarea, culminating
in thrilling adventures by land and sea, and Paul's
' For the importance of this controversy, see MacGregor's
"Christian Freedom," the Baird lecture for 1913.

THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 4S
arrival at last in Rome, a prisoner of the Lord.
Here the story fittingly ends.
This thing was not done in a corner. At every
point the movement was in contact with the life
and opinion of the world. The gospel interested
all sorts of people. It came into a welter of
races and religions. It touched superstition, in
tellectual confusion and insistent need.
What was- the temper of those times? What
were the intellectual forces the new religion had
to meet? What of the rival faiths with which
it was compared? What were the moral and spirit
ual aspirations of that changeable and all too-
human age? In a word, what was the background
of life and opinion upon which the gospel was
projected? These are some of the questions upon
a study of which we are about to enter.

PART ONE: THE QUEST
FOR SAFE CONDUCT

LECTURE II
THE RITUAL QUEST FOE SAFE CONDUCT

LECTURE II
THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT
From the beginning man has been a seeker after
God, This quest, is occasioned by a need for a
right relation with God that becomes urgent in
proportion as man develops a moral experience.
Religion in so far as it is a human development
is man's effort to meet this need.
No period of man's history is without this dis
tinguishing feature, but perhaps no age has more
keenly felt the need of a right relation with God
than that which forms the background of early
Christianity. It was, as we have seen, an age of
pohtical and rehgious disenchantment. The rapid
shifting of political barriers, the breakdown of
ancient religious supports, and the violent mani
festations of passionate cruelty which character
ised the last days of the Roman Republic, together
with the increasing mobility of life tended to bring
the question of moral direction to the front and
set the individual on a fresh quest for God, We
are about to begin the study of some of these
quests. AU of them were efforts to answer the
49

50 THE RELIGION OF POWER
question: How can a man get right with God?
At the outset, however, it will be well to define
our notion of rehgion. Religion is man's most
concentrated conception of spiritual need. It is
the manifestation of an impulse which has been
defined as "the effective desire to be in right rela
tion to the Power manifesting itself in the uni
verse." ^ This desire is often based on different
notions of deity. Man may beUeve in one God or
in many gods ; he may follow superstition or spirit
ual revelations, but the fact of consequence is the
presence from the beginning of this imperious
need. The need for right relations expresses it
self in various ways, which tend to become typical
and historically continuous because they indicate
representative phases of spiritual experience. We
shall consider in this and immediately succeeding
lectures certain of these typical forms, but in the
beginning it is best to form an idea of their gen
eral character.
They may be described as quests for safe con
duct.^ The need for a right relation witii God
develops when man becomes aware of the mys
tery of life. He felt the mystery of his being
long before he clearly thought about it, and his

^ Howerth, quoted by Fowler: "The Religious Experi
ence of the Roman People," p. 8.
^ I owe this phrase to Mr. L. P. Jacks.

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 61
first response to it came through the imagination
rather than the intellect. Man felt that he was
dependent on a power whose presence was mani
fest in nature. What was this power? Was it a
person, or an impersonal force? Did it think, feel,
and will like a man? The natural impulse was to
think of this power in such terms as to mask, if not
entirely to destroy its strangeness. The easiest
way of overcoming the mystery of God was to
make Him in man's image, to invest Him with hu
man attributes.
The notion of the Infinite and Eternal was a
painful one for the primitive mind. It was too
remote, awful and vague in that form, to satisfy
human need, hence the tendency to polytheism
was present from the first. Man broke up the
Infinite into a number of finite parts, and by in
vesting these several parts with human attributes,
he brought God within the range of the feelings
and comprehension of the understanding. Man's
first impulse was to find a human life in God, and
when he thought he had found this, it made him
very much at home in the world. This was, as
Lowes Dickinson has truly observed, the distin
guishing feature of Greek religion.® Among the
Greeks, the gods were the first citizens of states,
' "The Greek View of Life," pp. 3-4.

62 THE RELIGION OF POWER
the founders of races and the natural protectors of
peoples. These early conceptions were elaborated in
highly coloured mythologies; but in spite of the
complexity and beauty of these imaginative forms,
the likeness of the gods to men was never lost
sight of. Their passions were human, all too hu
man; and so long as man was able to think of the
central mystery of his hfe in familiar terms, the
need for adjustment was but vaguely felt. It
was present, of course, but never burdensome. He
was very much at home in the world because God
was altogether like himself.
But the moral sense grew with man's growth.
Enlightenment developed conscience, and' man be
gan to feel the spur of instinctive morality. This
developed into a critical tendency which operated
in two directions. On the one hand man became
sceptical of his gods, on the other hand he began
to question his religious status. He could neither
satisfy his conscience, nor be at home in the world.
He was haunted by a feeling of not being right
before God, and a fresh quest for a right relation
with the Power manifesting itself in the universe
became imperative.
Unable any longer to be at home in the world
he becomes aware of the need for moral guidance,
and begins to think of religion as an expedient in

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 63
the way of safe conduct through the world. His
problem is a very simple one: How can he get
through this world with credit and safety? The
answer to this question takes various forms. Some
times it is expressed in ritual performances, at
other times in ethical speculations. In the case of ,
the Jew it took the form of obedience to a revealed
law. These methods of adjustment reduce them
selves to type; they begin to make history and can
be isolated and studied in detaU. They are of im
mense value in understanding man's rehgious con
ceptions because they express certain persistent
phases of spiritual experience.
All these methods of adjustment were current
in the Grseco-Roman world when Christianity be
gan its westward movement. From Egypt and
the East came the most attractive ritualistic re
ligions, from Greece the most important ethical
conceptions, and from Palestine the religion of
revelation; and each exercised a remarkable in
fluence over the peoples to whom the gospel was
preached. The influence of these several forms of religious
teaching was due to the fact that the age acutely
realised the need for safe conduct, Man felt that
he had a clear title to his sins. Moral sensibility
made him aware of the lack of harmony between
his experience and the mysterious Being whose

54 THE RELIGION OF POWER
power was manifest in the universe. The question
of right relation was fundamental. Man wanted
moral security and spiritual certitude. He was
quite impatient with vague and inchoate notions
of religion and demanded a concrete and definite
transaction with the Deity. This explains the
syncretic tendency of the time, which is, as we
shall see, strikingly reflected in the writings of
Cicero. The problem of safe conduct was urgent for
a very simple reason. A man may be very weU
content with his rehgious status so long as he is
not obliged to think about it. But if events force
him to reflect he may become dissatisfied with it,
and when this takes place he will lose confidence
in his status. In other words reflection of any
kind is apt to reopen the question of safe conduct.
It is not necessary to prove that a view of religion
is false; it is only necessary seriously to question
it. Now the passion for certitude in religious mat
ters which characterised this age was met on every
side by a questioning spirit. The age wanted to
believe in something because it wanted peace ; but
it could not escape the pains of doubt. That is
why the period of the Advent was one of passion
ate religious inquiry. The Grasco-Roman world
was in quest of safe conduct and at the same time
sceptical of famUiar ways of salvation. The old

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 55
Roman gods were either dead or inactive. They
could no longer satisfy the yearning for peace and
security which characterised the age ; still men felt
that an answer to their main question could be
found. They were ready to listen to any prophet
or any gospel. They were wiUing to examine any
kind of religion, and what is even more significant,
they were busy constructing new religions out of
ancient faiths and philosophies. The syncretic
tendency of the time shows this. One cult would
borrow from another, and each sought the best ele
ments in current faiths.
When Paul carried the gospel into the gentile
world there were three persistent forms of spirit
ual experience exercising a mighty influence over
the people: salvation by ritual, salvation by ethics,
and salvation by legal obedience to a revealed law.
The first was represented by the Oriental mys
tery religions, the second by the Epicurean and
Stoic phUosophies, and the third by Judaism.
These conceptions were by many questioned,
and by some found inadequate. For one thing
they were old. Each had a past which could not
be lived down. The old Roman religion was still
devoutly followed in rural communities, but it had
little save a political influence in the centres of
population. As a religious movement the Augus
tan revival was a failure from the start. The

66 THE RELIGION OF POWER
Oriental cults were immensely popular with the
masses but they had little significance for serious-
minded intellectuals. These as a rule sought con
solation in philosophy and ethical speculation.
They confessed the inadequacy of theory, and felt
the need for a "virtue-making power." Many of
them were trying to live in harmony with the ex
ample of some ancient phUosopher. Judaism, of
course, had powerful adherents, even among gen
tiles. The presence among the latter of God-fear
ers is an evidence of the superiority of Judaism
over other cults ; stiU the eagerness with which they
embraced Christianity shows the drift of the times.
The ethical monotheism of the Jew of the disper
sion made the question of a right relation with God
very urgent, but the sense of morality which it
created tended to cast suspicion on ceremonial
methods of all kinds.
The truth is the moral sense of the age was
running far in advance of its rehgious supports.
Conscience was driving men into a blind aUey.
Political and social changes made the need of
moral guidance painfully evident, but a satis
factory moral dynamic was not forthcoming.
Into this welter of faith and doubt, of insistent
need and painful questioning, came the new re
ligion. Could Christianity answer the great ques
tion and set man right with God? Could it afford

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 67
humanity an undisputed status before the Most
High? This interest in religion gave Paul and his
associates a peculiar opportunity. The world was
in a sense prepared for Christianity, We must
not suppose, however, that the religious interest
of the time was a self-conscious and deliberately
intelligent effort to criticise, examine, reject, or
accept any religion. What was present in this
age was a tendency. People felt that the old no
tions would not do ; they were haunted by a sense
of moral insecurity. Religion as commonly under
stood was degraded into a feeling of nervous
ness — an unreasoning dread of gods and daemons.
They were very uncertain about the future. This
feeling had an immense power for tormenting
people simply because it was vague and inchoate.
Dread was in the air, hke a poisonous atmosphere.
Men questioned tiie next step. The need for a
clear and explicit way of life was paramount.
This vague sense of need is responsible in part
for the early descriptions of the Christian com
munity. Before the idea of the church took defi
nite shape, the disciples of Christ were called the
people of the way. They moved through the world
with such confidence and precision that people
were inchned to ask them the reason for the hope
that was in them, and they could only reply:
"We have sanctified Christ in our hearts as Lord."

68 THE RELIGION OF POWER
The gospel was the way of life. It is also re
sponsible for certain things in Paul's epistles, as
when he discusses Greek philosophy with the Cor
inthians, the tyranny of elemental spirits with the
Colossians, or elaborates the great doctrines of
the faith in the letter to the Romans. By natural
endowment and spiritual experience Paul was
fitted to apprehend what the gentile world needed.
He gave his teaching a form that would make it
intelhgible to that restless and unstable age.
Before, however, we begin the study of how the
background influenced Christian teaching we must
consider in detail the characteristic forms of spirit
ual experience manifested by certain quests for
safe conduct then current in the Grseco-Roman
world. We must try to understand why these
methods of salvation were being questioned at the
beginning of the Christian era.
The first of these ways is the ritual quest for
safe conduct. The impulse to get right with God
by means of ceremonial performances is the oldest
religious quest of mankind. The belief that by
means of external observances man can lay the
Etemal under tribute is deeply rooted in human
nature. Salvation by ritual is the religion of the
natural man, simply because it is the one phase
of religious experience that has no necessary con
nection with morality. If one believe in the ab-

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 59
solute efficacy of external performances he will
be under no obligation to think of rehgion as a
sanction for morals. A strictly ritualistic notion
ordinarily stifles the ethical impulse. It intoxi
cates the senses, exploits the emotions, debauches
the imagination, and, by putting the conscience to
sleep, enables man to make the best of both worlds.
For this reason ritual has always been popular
with the masses. The aptitude of primitive man
for religion conceived as a mythology was far in
excess of his aptitude for material comfort. Long
before he had learned how to make adequate pro
vision for his physical necessities he had elabo
rated a scheme of worship highly ritualistic in
character.* A ritualistic religion cannot create
moral sanctions. What usually happens is that the
moral sense develops independently and then turns
round upon the ritual and transforms it ethically.
This was the conspicuous service rendered to
Greek religion by the sophists of the fifth century
B.C. The immense popularity of ritual forms makes
a study of this phase of religious experience very
important. The ritual quest for safe conduct was
represented in the Graeco-Roman world by the
mystery religions, which came for the most part
* Fairbaim: "The Philosophy of the Christian Religion,"
pp. 188-189.

60 THE RELIGION OF POWER
from the East. A study of some of these cults is
necessary if we are to understand the religious
situation confronting the gospel during the west
ward movement of Christianity. Such a study
will show how they prepared the way for Chris
tianity, not only because they intensified the need
for guidance, but also because of their signal fail
ure to furnish it.
It is difficult for us, who are accustomed to think
of religion in terms of an absolute moral impera
tive, to estimate the power of ritual in the re
ligion of the ancient world. It was powerful in
two directions: on the one hand it captured the
imagination by its splendid appeals to the senses.
Even so confirmed a sceptic as Lucretius con
fessed that he was powerfully impressed by the
ritual of Magna Mater. On the other hand ritual
had an immense influence on the spirit of the dev
otee. It silenced the questioning of the mind and
tranquillised the heart by the realistic precision of
its modes of worship. The performance of ritual
seemed to accomplish a reconcUiation with the
gods in a visible way.
In order to appreciate the power of such ap
peals, let us suppose that you were convinced that
you would never be able to provide a reasonable
competence for your old age; and you were as
sured if you would memorise and recite each 4th

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 61
of July the Declaration of Independence before
an officer of the United States provided for that
purpose, that the government would assume en
tire responsibUity for your future, you would
have no difficulty in accepting this proposition.
And this was the sort of promise made by these
Oriental cults. As Cumont observes, "if a Divin
ity was invoked according to the correct forms,
especially if one knew how to pronounce its real
name, it was compelled to act in conformity to
the will of its priest. The sacred words were an
incantation that compeUed the superior powers to
obey the officiating person, no matter what pur
pose he had in view. With the knowledge of the
liturgy men acquired an immense power over the
world of spirits." ®
These promises were always associated with
splendid appeals to the senses. Naturally they
had a powerful hold on the masses and this taken
together with the fact that the cults began to
spread at a time of political and religious unrest
easily accounts for their popularity.
We must keep steadily in mind the material
fact that these cults were able to produce the
most satisfactory sort of impression on the spirit
of the worshipper. It is easy to suggest their in
adequacy. But this is quite immaterial. The fact
* "Oriental Religions in Roman Paganism," p. 98.

62 THE RELIGION OF POWER
is these cults were healing and consoling influences
in a profoundly distressed age, and some knowl
edge of them is required if we are to understand
the forces of life and opinion that came in contact
with the gospel.
The study of these religions is very difficult
for two reasons: first, because we know next to
nothing about their rituals, and secondly, because
the syncretic tendency was present from the be
ginning. The interpretation of a mystery cult
depends for the most part on some knowledge of
its ritual. Its essential meaning is not expressed
in a theology, but in forms of worship. And we
know little of the ritual because it was performed
in secret. It was open to the initiate only, and
rarely came to the knowledge of contemporary
writers. There is a little in Plutarch; we have a
romantic account of the ritual of Isis in the writ
ings of Apuleius ; Lucian tells us something of the
ritual of the Syrian Goddess, but these notices
are of little value in forming an opinion of their
nature in the early decades of the first century.
Furthermore these cults were subject to the syn
cretic tendency. They borrow, modify and trans
form whatever is to their liking. They constantly
react on each other. The powerful ethical criti
cism of the time was forcing the pagan theologians
to disavow or disguise much that was gross and

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 63
repellent. They often clothed their teachings in
the best and most popular forms of other re
ligions. The result is that the religious concep
tions of the early part of the first century lack
distinctness. Still it is possible to consider these
cults in a general way. We shall confine our at
tention, however, to the mystery religions which
came to Rome from the Orient, since their influ
ence best illustrates the ritual quest for God.
There were at least four Eastern religions be
sides Judaism current in the Roman empire.
These religions were : the Cybele- Attis cult which
came from Phrygia; certain Syrian nature cults
which were tending towards monotheism ; the Isis-
Serapis cult which came from Egypt, and last
and greatest of them aU, the cult of Mithra. It
has been clearly shown that Mithra had little
influence in the empire until the second century
of our era. Such scholars as Cumont,^ Kennedy ,''^
Clemen,^ DiU,® Schweitzer,^" and Harnack," agree
that it came late to Rome. Pompey, if we are to
«Op. Cit., 140.
' "St. Paul and the Mystery Religions," pp. 114-115.
^ "Primitive Christianity and Its Non-Jewish Sources,"
pp. 30-32.
^ "Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius," pp.
589-591. " "Paul and His Interpreters," p. 186.
^^ "The Mission and Expansion of Christianity," Vol. 2,
pp. 318-320.

64 THE RELIGION OF POWER
believe Plutarch, found traces of Mithra among
the Cihcian pirates in the first century B. C; the
cult was probably known to the foreign legionary
in the provinces long before it reached Rome ; but
there is no reliable evidence that Mithra had an
important influence on the religious situation un
til the second century, and for this reason it has
no place in our inquiry. We shaU limit ourselves
to the religions known to have had an influence on
current opinion at the beginning of the Christian
era. The religious notions of the pagan Semites were
propagated in the early empire by the Syrian mer
chant and slave. These were nature cxUts that
originated in the worship of the vital principle.
In the beginning they were gross and material
istic ; but while the Egyptian was never quite suc
cessful in raising his gods above the dust, the
Syrian finally lifted his conception of deity to the
high heavens. As Cumont, our chief authority, has
pointed out, as these nature myths came under
the influence of astrology, the notion of deity they
symbohsed was refined and exalted until it took
the form of a God beyond the stars, whose dwell
ing place was the high heavens, in short, a God
Almighty.^ ^ Thus these Syrian cults, of little
value otherwise, assisted other rehgions in exalting
"Op. Cit., pp. 127-129; 199.

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 65
their gods, and aided in the spread of monotheism
particularly among the peoples not influenced by
Judaism.^ ^
The Phrygian religion was a nature cult also.
Cybele was the mother of all things, the goddess
of nature and especially of wUd nature. She was
the seat of the vital principle, giving the seasons
and the harvests, sending the storm and the rain,
and ruling over the changing year. Early in her
history she is associated with a strange creature,
called Attis, who figures as her consort. In
the beginning it is a tale of vulgar passion and
self -mutilation; but Attis slowly evolves into a
symbol of the changing seasons, and finally be
comes a dying and reviving god. The cult was
served by mutilated priests, and its worship was a
wUd frenzy very like that of the cult of Dionysus
in ancient Greece.
This Eastern religion came to Rome in 204 B. C.
under very interesting circumstances. The crisis
occasioned by the Second Punic War compeUed
the Romans to consult the Sibyls, and as a measure
of state pohcy they advised the introduction of a
new rehgion. They even went so far as to sug
gest the propriety of bringing the Great Mother
to Rome. Acting on this suggestion the Romans
^^ On the general tendency towards monotheism in the
last century of the Republic, see Fowler's "Roman Ideas of
Deity," Lecture 2.

66 THE RELIGION OF POWER
sent an embassy to Phrygia, and Cybele, symbol
ised by an old black stone, was brought in splen
did state to assume her sway over the city of the
seven hills. The stone was deposited in the Temple
of Victory on the Palatine April 4th, and this day
was made a festival. The Romans, being espe
ciaUy anxious to preserve the foreign character of
the cult, gave the festival a Greek name, "the Me-
galesia." Thirteen years later a temple was ded
icated to the Great Mother but for many years
the Romans were forbidden by senatorial enact
ment to take any part in her worship.^* In spite
of this Cybele flourished. Her worship was highly
offensive to Roman taste and it remained a re
ligion of a foreign minority until the empire, when
it rapidly grew in influence. It retained its hold
until the fourth century when it was finally ab
sorbed into the cult of Mithra. The Romans de
spised the mutilated priests but were powerfuUy
influenced by the worship. Magna Mater was
very attractive to women. She had no theology,
gave unrestrained expression to the emotions and
depended entirely on her frenzied forms of wor
ship. The cult of Isis-Serapis came to Rome from
Alexandria a century before the Christian era.
This syncretic religion was devised by the Ptol-
^* Fowler : "Roman Festivals," p. 70.

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 67
emies as a political expedient. It was an effort
to merge the Egyptian cult of Isis-Osiris with
popular Greek conceptions for the purpose of
welding together the foreign subjects of the em
pire. It is likely that the Eleusinian and Orphic
mysteries had something to do with this trans
formation. This cult, like that of Magna Mater,
remained a rehgion of a foreign minority xmtU
the empire, after which, in spite of repeated
efforts to suppress it, it gained a vast influence in
Rome, especially among women. Osiris, like At
tis, was a dying and reviving god, but the chief
contribution of Isis was her tremendous emphasis
of ritual.
All these cults had many gross elements. Their
frenzied forms of worship were offensive to the
Roman sense of decorum. They had, and this
must be kept steadily in mind, little or no con
nection with morality. But in spite of obvious
limitations they propagated certain religious con
ceptions hitherto foreign to the Roman tempera
ment, which were not only attractive to the people
but of great utUity in the spread of Christianity.
Their wide influence shows the drift of the times.
The people were looking for certain things in re
ligion and they found them in these cults. What
were some of these things? If we know this we

68 THE RELIGION OF POWER
can understand the sort of religion the age was
prepared to accept.
The mystery religions emphasised the idea of
personal immortahty. To the disiUusioned Roman,
burdened with a sense of existence in a world of
political and social disorder, aware of the futility
of philosophy and no longer able to believe in the
pale abstractions of the native rehgion, the ap
peal of these warm, sensuous cults of the East was
almost irresistible. He was offended by the
frenzied worship, he despised the effeminate and
mutilated priests, but he was powerfully impressed
by their splendid promises. They offered union
with the life of the gods through certain visible
and compeUing sacraments. To observe a cere
mony or submit to a purification conferred a last
ing benefit. They used ritual performances with
great skill and effectiveness. The initiate always
had a definite transaction with deity; something
invariably happened to him; the ritual never
failed. Ceremonial brought the worshipper into
direct contact with divinity and he became an
enthusiast — a man full of the gods. It was natural
that the starved imagination of the people should
welcome the splendid ceremonial of the East in
place of the cold and repulsive abstractions of the
old Roman religion.
These cults were served by a non-secular priest-

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 69
hood, a new thing in those days. A priest of the
Roman religion was an officer of the state, and
religious observances were parts of pubhc duty.
The new cults by comparison f amUiarised the peo
ple with the idea of a personal and non-political
religion. The temples of the native rehgion were
government buUdings: units of a political organ
isation; the new cults were directed by ministers
whose only function was religious and the ritual
was performed in an open church. The temples
were open at all times; there were daily services
and the gods were always accessible. The oppor
tunity of taking part at aU times in religious serv
ices would naturally appeal to a people whose
notions of worship had hitherto been limited to
state ceremonials.
We cannot overestimate the attraction of the
open churches and the non-secular clergy. The
old Roman religion at its very best was a cold, ab
stract sort of thing. It was a state religion rather
than a religion for the individual. Its religious
books were as dry as law reports whUe its con
ception of decorum was not calculated to appeal
very strongly to the emotions. It made little
use of the imagination and deliberately discouraged
enthusiasm. The new cults on the other hand were
warm, sensuous, and passionate. They deliber
ately appealed to the emotions, and exploited the

70 THE RELIGION OF POWER
imagination. They were personal religions ad
justed to individual need. Worship was not
an affair of political duty but an invariable ex
pression of personal preference. Such an appeal
was calculated to meet the craving of the time for
a larger expression of individuahty. Men were
acutely conscious of personal needs, they were
looking for a personal religion. They wanted
(and who can blame them) a religion adjusted
to the emergencies of every day life ; and the open
church, the daily services, and the non-secular
clergy met the need for the time being in a very
satisfactory way.
These cults also provided a new conception of
social relationships. Under the old regime the
ordinary basis of fellowship was the family, the
clan, and the city-state. Worshippers of national
deities were never free from a feehng of isolation.
The people were kept apart by a rigid caste sys
tem. The Romans, especially in that unstable
time, were suspicious of all voluntary associa
tions that were not in accord with established cus
tom. But the city-state with its exclusive solidar
ity was gone. The world was adrift on the tide of
empire and cosmopoUtanism made men lonely.
It aroused while it could not satisfy their social
instincts. The freedmen, rapidly rising in wealth,
culture and independence, demanded a new basis

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 71
for social fellowship, a bond more in harmony with
individual necessity. The new cults were pecu
liarly fitted to meet this need. They were essen
tiaUy social and democratic. They expressed the
feeling of John Wesley that "people should go to
heaven in companies and not one by one." AU
men, without regard to their previous condition,
became brothers in the temples of the gods. Master
and man, freedman and slave found themselves
associated on terms of equality in the daily wor
ship. The brotherhood had a community supper
which symbolised this new relationship. By plac
ing a new value on the individual, by opening
avenues of escape from the loneliness of the
time, these new religions were able to satisfy the
social hunger that was then everywhere evident
in the organisation of guilds and fellowships,
burial societies and fraternities of various sorts:
ostensibly founded on business or economic in
terests, but in reahty manifesting the longing for
relationships of a social kind more in harmony
with individual need. By turnhig social passion
into religious channels these cults made it easier
to form Christian cojnmunities among peoples al
ready familiar with the form and desu-abUity of
such associations.^®
1^ For an interesting account of the social passion of the
age, see Dill: "Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Au
relius," Book II, Chapter 3.

72 THE RELIGION OF POWER
These cults were caUed mystery rehgions be
cause they had secret rites and esoteric doctrines.
The elaborate ceremony of initiation was cal
culated to arouse the curiosity and eventually to
develop the latent mysticism of the time into a
powerful spiritual influence.
It must not be forgotten that these cults had
little or no connection with morality. They were
sacramental religions rather than moral dynamics,
and quite indulgent of human frailty. This was
particularly true of the cult of Isis. She was, as
Cumont truly observes, "honoured especially by
the women with whom love was a profession" and
her temples were often scenes of disgraceful in
trigue.^® Still the power of these religions was
great. They maintained their influence in the face
of persecution, and devotees were sometimes capa
ble of martyrdom. They were capable of giving
peace and consolation to a melancholy age. It was
faith in the absolute efficacy of ritual perform
ances that reconciled the orderly Roman to the
orgiastic genuflections of Cybele's eunuch priests.
It was faith in her power to save that prompted
proud Roman matrons to bathe in the chilly Tiber
in winter, or walk round the temple of Isis on
their bleeding knees. Satirists like Juvenal might
scoff at these things, but it matters little. Many
"Op. Cit., p. 90.

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 73
poor disiUusioned people found in the service of
these strange Eastern religions a peace and con
solation they could not obtain from the old native
faith. The popularity of these cults taken together
with their history is a supreme example of the
success and faUure of a ritualistic religion. Ritual
is powerful so long as conscience is dormant, but
once rouse the moral sense and it wUl turn upon
ritual and either reject it entirely or modify it so
as to destroy its original form. This process of
transformation was undoubtedly going on as
early as the first century. Parallel with the spread
of these cults was a growing ethical movement rep
resented by certain philosophies, particularly Stoi
cism. No religion, least of all such cults as these,
can withstand the transforming criticism of ethics,
and it was a regnant morahty that gradually un
dermined tlieir influence.
This came about partly through syncretism, and
partly by supersession. In the fourth century of
our era paganism was transformed and confronted
Christianity in the religion of Mithra, but Mithra
finally yielded to the Man of GalUee. In the
early decades of the first century, however, the
influence of ethics is represented by a tendency
to borrow ideas and practices from other rehgions.

74 THE RELIGION OF POWER
and the effort to bring conduct into conformity
with moral requirements.
The conflict between ritual and ethics may be
Ulustrated by a consideration of the question of
origins. How would these cults appear when con
trasted with a reUgion like Christianity?
A fourth century impression of the conflict
between ethics and ritual is thus summed up by
Cumont : "Never was the lack of harmony greater
between the moralising tendencies of theolo
gians and the cruel shamelessness of tradition. A
god held up as the august lord of the universe was
the pitifiU and abject hero of an obscene love
affair. . . . The men of letters and senators at
tending those mysteries saw them performed by
painted eunuchs, ill reputed for their infamous
morals, who went through dizzy dances similar to
those of the dancing dervishes. . . . We can im
agine the repugnance these ceremonies caused in
everybody whose judgment had not been de
stroyed by a fanatical devotion." "
But the disposition to bring tradition to the
test of ethics was very powerful even in the first
century. The moral character of the priests was
severely condemned by Petronius and Juvenal.
A century later the devotees of these cults did not
escape the scorn of Lucian and Apuleius. And
" Op. Cit., pp. 71-72.

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 76
if one were disposed to follow the tradition of
Attis or Osiris to its source one came upon coarse
nature myths, and the portentous figures which
bulked so largely in the imagination even of the
first century turned out to be symbols only. It
was far otherwise with the Christian tradition.
Trace this to its origin and you come upon the
historic figure of Jesus of Nazareth, a man ap
proved of God, abounding in good works; holy,
harmless, and undefiled, separate from sinners.
It was the tremendous contrast between a Person
of historic reality, and a series of myths and sym
bols rising out of the superstitions of the past
that finally discredited the mystery religions and
led to the triumph of the church.
It was the demand for an historic basis for re
ligious tradition that inspired the writing of the
gospels. The church on gentile soil had no re
ligious books except the Greek version of the
Old Testament and occasional letters to individual
communities. Christians depended in the begin
ning on oral tradition. They received Jesus Christ
as their Saviour upon the testimony of the Apos
tles. But so soon as Christianity came into con
tact with other cults the question was bound to
rise: Did the glorious Saviour of Apostolic preach
ing have a beginning in history? Was He a real
Personahty, or was He like Cybele or Isis, a

76 THE RELIGION OF POWER
myth also? Was Christ a symbol of God, or God
manifest in the flesh? In some respects the real
problem of the Apostles in dealing with gentUes
was not to convince them that Jesus was God,
but to prove the reality of His human and earthly
life. They were obliged to show that Jesus was
an historic Person. In response to this need the
first gospels were written. We cannot easily meas
ure the power of these simple narratives — the art
less simphcity of Mark, or the gracious human
ism of Luke — in affording historical realism to a
glorious tradition. Back of Apostolic preaching
was this historic Personality, the life, death and
resurrection of the world's Redeemer; and as
this preaching created and sustained the purest
form of morality consecrated as it was by faith in
the Divine Master, it was inevitable that the age
should realise that a new and distinct power had
come into the world.
It is true that the Oriental mystery religions
aided in the spread of ideas favourable to Chris
tianity. They made the Romans famihar with
such notions as immortahty, salvation, purifica
tion, redemption, a non-secular clergy, an open
church, a brotherhood based on religious relation
ships, in short with the conception of personal
religion. But the difference between Christianity

THE RITUAL QUEST FOR SAFE CONDUCT 77
and these cults was fundamental. At bottom it
was an ethical difference.
In regard to this difference the conclusions of
Prof. Fowler are very convincing. After show
ing in his masterly treatment of "The Religious
Experience of the Roman People" how far the old
Roman religion as well as these Eastern cults had
aided in the spread of ideas favourable to the new
faith, he says: "All this taken together, so far
from explaining Christianity, does not help us
much in getting to understand even the conditions
under which it grew into men's minds as a new
power in the hfe of the world. The plant, though
grown in soil which had borne other crops, was
wholly new in structure and vital principle. I
say this dehberately after spending so many years
on the study of the rehgion of the Romans, and
making myself acquainted in some measure with
the rehgions of other peoples. The essential dif
ference, as it appears to me, as a student of the
history of religion, is this : that, whereas, the con
nection between religion and morality had so far
been a loose one at Rome, indeed, so loose, that
many have refused to believe in its existence, the
new religion was itself morality, but morality con
secrated and raised to a higher power than it had
ever yet reached. ... I confess that I never rea-
hsed this contrast fully or intelhgently untU I

78 THE RELIGION OF POWER
read through the Pauline epistles from beginning
to end with a special historical object in view. It
is useful to be familiar with the hfe and literature
of the two preceding centuries, if only to be able
the better to reahse in passing to St. Paul, a
Roman citizen, a man of education and experi
ence, the great gulf fixed between the old and the
new, as he himself saw it."^*
This impressive statement confirms the judg
ment of an earlier scholar who says that when "the
attention of a thinking heathen was directed to
the new religion spreading in the Roman empire,
the first thing to strike him as extraordinary would
be that a religion of prayer was superseding the
religion of ceremonies and invocation of gods."^''
But these Oriental cults came under the influ
ence of ethical criticism before they were brought
into contact with Christianity. Salvation by ritual
was confronted with salvation by ethics. This
brings us to the ethical quest for safe conduct, to
which we shall turn our attention in the next lec
ture. " Pp. 465-466.
"DoUinger: "The First Age of Christianity and the
Church," p. 344; quoted by Fowler: Op. Cit., p. 468.

LECTURE III
THE ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS

LECTURE III
THE ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS
Man's primitive religious impulse is "an effective
desire to be in right relation to the Power mani
festing itself in the universe." By universe we
may mean the world without, made up of sensible
impressions, or the world within, made up of
thoughts and desires. Where God is conceived as
manifesting Himself through the external world
the desire to be in right relation to Him wiU or
dinarily express itself in ritual forms, and rehgion
wiU be used as a screen. But where God is con
ceived as manifesting Himself through the in
ternal world, the effort to be in right relation to
Him will express itself as a phase of moral ideal
ism, and religion will become a way of life,
Prunitive man was interested in religion be
cause he wanted to be at home in the world, but
when the moral sense developed, the desire for
right relations was transformed into a quest for
safe conduct. This singular change is best illus
trated in the religious experience of the Greeks.
The aim of Greek religion, as Lowes Dickinson
81

82 THE RELIGION OF POWER
has suggested, was to make man at home in the
world. The easiest way to do this was to make the
gods in man's image. The infinite was broken
up into finite parts, and each part was personal
ised, localised, and worshipped in detaU. The gods
were founders of the Greek race, and the first citi
zens of the city-state. They were very like men;
their passions and desires were altogether human.
This conception of religion is expressed in the Ho
meric poems and for a long period was entirely
satisfactory. The religious impulse developed the
ritual, and the ritual was a screen which tempered
the light of the eternal and enabled man to be at
home in the world.
But occasionally this screen was penetrated by
a trenchant criticism, which eventually introduced
a disturbing element into the Greek religious con
sciousness. The earliest Greek philosophers were
physicists whose main interest was in the study of
natural phenomena, stiU they came to devote a
great deal of attention to moral questions. The
moral aspects of hfe appealed very powerfuUy to
the poetic temperament, and philosophers and
poets working from different points of view were
able seriously to disturb the primitive content
ment, "The evolution of theological and religious
thought in Greece may be regarded as the re
sult of the action and interaction of the two rival

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 83
principles of orthodoxy and dissent, . . . On the
one hand the poets, especially Pindar, -i^schylus,
and Sophocles, without abandoning the old Ho
meric anthropomorphism, gradually purified and
spiritualised the elements of rehgious idealism al
ready contained in the Homeric poems, . . . On
the other hand the pre-Socratic philosophers were
more and more led by their physical speculations
towards a view of the universe in which no room
was left for the Homeric gods, and began to ex
press their dissent at a very early period of Greek
thought."^ The sombre idea of Fate or Nemesis
came to the service of man's somnolent moral na
ture and awoke the conscience to a keen criticism
not only of popular religious traditions but also
of the conduct of life. As the moral nature de
veloped man became aware that he was not as
much at home in the world as he used to be, Re
Ugion could no longer serve as a screen because
it could not satisfy the needs of conscience, and the
desire for safe conduct through this hfe became
a dominant passion.
The need for safe conduct was very acutely felt
in the fifth century B, C, This was the age of
enlightenment, the period of the sophists and the
poet Euripides, For one thing phUosophers were
becoming deeply interested in the moral aspect of
1 Adam: "The Religious Teachers of Greece," pp. 18-19-

84 THE RELIGION OF POWER
hfe. They had discovered the world of spirit
which augmented the moral imperatives of life
and developed the notion of individual respon
sibihty and the worth of personahty. The Greek
genius for inteUectual activity was fully born in
that age. From this came a disposition to ex
amine, criticise and modify traditions of all kinds.
"The age of the sophists," according to Zeller,
"was a period of fermentation preceding the age
of construction,"
The sophists aimed to teach goodness, by which
they meant "the art of succeeding in a democratic
state, when you do not yourself belong to the
ruling democracy, and in particular, the art of
getting off when you are attacked in the courts
of law," ^ This was a peculiar sort of goodness,
and doubtless the profession had a questionable
side; still the original aim of the sophists was to
teach men to think for themselves, especially on
moral questions. They believed in the divine right
of the individual as opposed to the arbitrary au
thority of tradition. This tendency of the fifth
century is best Ulustrated by the teaching of Pro
tagoras. He is remembered chiefly for his famous
aphorism, "Man is the measure of aU things." He
was the first of the pragmatists, holding that truth
^Burnet: "Greek Philosophy, Thales to Plato," pp.
109-110.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 85
was relative to the individual. The test of truth
was its practical consequences, its essential utUity.*
Applying this principle to religion he distin
guished between traditional conceptions and moral
relations which had to do with the conduct of
hfe. He did not care to break violently with
ancient traditions ; it was in fact highly inexpedi
ent to do so ; but he acted on the assumption that
in essential things it was best to follow the custom
of the country. In aU other matters he advised
men to think for themselves.
The growing feeling of individual importance
which was the distinguishing feature of this age
tended to clarify the need for safe conduct. It
made the question of moral guidance an object of
inquiry and transmitted the problem of its solu
tion to the next age.
This brings us to Socrates, the first ethical
thinker among the Greeks. There were two quali
ties of his personaUty which must be kept steadily
in mind. One was his immense intellectual power,
the other his mystical, or shaU I venture to caU it,
his religious temperament. These qualities en
abled him to render a dual service to his age,
first of diagnosis, and second of construction.
He had in a remarkable degree the power of
* For a different view, see Gomperz : "Greek Thinkers,"
Vol. I, pp. 450-454.

86 THE RELIGION OF POWER
moral diagnosis. He seems to ask: What is the
matter with this age? The people were richly
endowed intellectually, of political sagacity and
artistic sensibility, yet in spite of this they were
not happy. It was easy to trace this unhappiness
to evil. Men put true for false and false for true.
They followed delusions of various kinds, and
often mistook shadows for substance. Why? Be
cause they did not know, because they would not
think. They foUowed opinion rather than knowl
edge. They were chiefly ignorant of themselves,
of their capacities, limitations and needs. It is
interesting to observe that more than three cen
turies earlier Isaiah was saying the same thing
about his age: "The ox knoweth his owner, and
the ass his master's crib : but Israel doth not know,
my people doth not consider," *
According to Socrates man's misery was rooted
in ignorance. His remedy for evU was knowl
edge, and his ruling principle the Delphic con
ception, "Know thyself,"
The key to his view of human nature is found
in the phrase, "No man errs of his own free wiU."
He did not believe that man would deliberately
choose evil, or reject the good. Therefore his
remedy for evU is a sort of moral intellectuahsm.
In and out of season he laboured to teach men to
*i:3.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 87
think for themselves. His favourite method of
attack was by means of a series of skilful ques
tions to expose the fallacies lurking in generally
accepted phrases so as to produce confusion and
perplexity in the mind of his hearer. He would
then ascertain the truth underlying current ideas
and endeavour to lead his disciples to form sound
convictions. He had the wise man's healthy con
tempt for popular opinion; he was passionately
interested in fundamental principles, because he
believed that once in touch with principles a man
would naturally go right. In other words, he
believed that knowledge and goodness were iden
tical, that knowledge was power, and in so far as
virtue was knowledge it could be taught. His
scheme then of safe conduct was one of self-
education. Socrates did the world a great service when he
taught men to reflect. There is much to justify
the notion that evil is due to ignorance, or even
to a more subtle thing, a want of clearness in one's
thinking. It is a difficult and an important thing,
this thinking for one's self. But while we must
recognise the place of self-knowledge in any
scheme of life it is easy to point out the weak
ness of the Socratic position. If knowledge were
always power the principle would be a valid one,
but it is now a commonplace of ethical thinking,

88 THE RELIGION OF POWER
expressed long ago by Ovid: "I see the good and
approve it, but deliberately practise the wrong,"
or better stiU in the words of Paul, "To will is
present with me, but how to perform that which
is good, I find not." Socrates had discovered one
of the reasons for human defection, but it did not
go to the root of the matter. He does not ap
pear to have had a clear notion of human perver
sity, and he is especially ignorant of the power of
a lawless wUl.
The important aspect of his service was not
in the problems he settled, but in giving an ethical
direction to the mental inquiry of his time. From
his day ethical questions had a definite place in
Greek thought. It is not easy to overpraise his
ethical passion. His wonder at the newly aroused
sense of individual importance, his confidence in
the power of clear thinking, and his splendid, if
too optimistic, faith in the natural goodness of
human nature arouse our admiration. The bet
terment of humanity was the aim of this Silenus-
faced philosopher. He had little interest in specu
lation for its own sake, he did his thinking in be
half of a good life ; and if his remedy is inadequate
it is due in great measure to his downright sin
cerity. He was so passionately devoted to his
ideal and so conscientious in his endeavour to
attain it that he could not believe in the inaptitude

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 89
for moral strenuousness which later thinkers found
so characteristic of human nature.
There is, too, in the teaching of Socrates a sort
of religious fervour. He believed that he was
guided in all things by a good daemon. The
Spirit of God was his monitor, "and the remark
able thing about it," says Burnet, "was that it
never prompted him to do anything; it only op
posed something he was about to do." ^ This be
lief in an inner voice, this confidence in the guid
ance of a spiritual monitor higher than man which
frequently gives to his teaching a kind of re
ligious authority, suggests the instabihty of his
main contention; for so soon as man's conscience
is developed by a growing knowledge of the moral
ideal, its ethical demands wiU far exceed his abihty
to satisfy them, and the consequence is a rift in the
soul which destroys faith in the innate goodness of
human nature and sets man on a fresh quest for
God. This was what took place in the thinking of
Socrates' greatest disciple. Plato's thinking iUus-
trates the truth that when man earnestly seeks
to understand himself, he finds not only himself,
but God.
Plato foUowed the master's suggestions to their
logical conclusions and by constructing his doc
's Op. Cit., p. ISO.

90 THE RELIGION OF POWER
trine of ideas, he developed the highest type of
monotheism in Greek philosophy. But with this
fresh sense of Divine reality came a new knowl
edge of human nature. Protagoras had said that
"man was the measure of all things." But Plato
seems to ask : "What man ?" The doctrine of ideas
revealed an antagonism between flesh and spirit,
and as little as Plato sympathised with Orphic
mysticism he was one with it on this point. The
Orphic sects taught that the soul was imprisoned
in the body; the flesh was the tomb of the soul,
a bondage to evil which could be broken only at
death. Plato's thinking sharpened the dualism
between flesh and spirit. On the one hand man
was a complex of passions and appetites, on the
other hand of ideals and spiritual aspirations. If
man was the measure of aU things it must be the
spiritual man. But this higher self proved the
reality of a world above the senses — fair and
lovely — ^made up of ideas, ideals and communion
with God. If this higher selfhood be accepted as
the norm it not only measured man's possibilities,
but suggested his limitations. The problem was
one of emancipation. How was the spiritual man
to rid himself of the earthly handicap ? Plato teUs
us how this might be accomphshed in his famous
aUegory of the cave.
First he conceives a number of prisoners im-

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 91
mured in a long and gradually sloping chamber.
They are bound so that they cannot move and
are obliged to look at a blank wall at the end
of the cave. Behind and above them is a fire burn
ing, and between them and the fire is a pathway
flanked by a low wall. Along this pathway men
are passing, carrying a number of vessels. These
vessels, rising above the low waU flanking the
pathway, cast their shadows on the blank wall at
the bottom of the chamber. These shadow shapes
are all that the prisoners see. He now supposes
that the prisoners are released. At first they are
reluctant to leave the cave. As they are taken
into the light they are so confused that they are
unable to distinguish the shadows from the ob
jects which cast them; but gradually they become
accustomed to distinguish real objects; then they
become aware of the element that reveals them.
They recognise light itself, and finally by follow
ing it to its source, discover the sun.*
According to Plato men in their natural condi
tion are creatures of delusion. Knowledge is of
shadow shapes only, and has no validity because
it has no connection with reality. But if men
display an aptitude for thinking they gradually
leave the cave and learn how to distinguish real
« "The Republic," Book VII. Translated by Davies and
Vaughan.

92 THE RELIGION OF POWER
objects from shadow shapes. Eventually they
become aware of the element of truth which re
veals reaUty, and finaUy by tracing truth to its
source they find the eternal God. Thus the hu
man spirit emancipates itself from the prisonhouse
of the flesh. Every human idea has its divine
counterpart. To know this is power, because it
leads to God. Such knowledge is also virtue, and
virtue means happiness.
This is very beautiful but is open to criticism.
If every man was naturaUy endowed with a pas
sion for high inteUectual endeavour ; if he felt that
his relation to God was the first and most import
ant business of life, he might choose this con
templative way, and attain to Platonic virtue.
But suppose man lacks a natural capacity for re
flection, suppose he prefers a life of fleshly in
dulgence, how are you going to persuade him to
abandon the cave? Plato does not answer this
question simply because he is thinking of a cer
tain type of man; of a man like himself of phU-
osophic genius and ethical passion of the high
est order. The good man is an intellectual aris
tocrat. If a man is to be saved he must turn phi
losopher and give himself to rigid inteUectual dis
cipline. But the masses who prefer to live in the
cave, dealing ever with shadow shapes, must be
left to their own devices.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 93
By opening the way to God only to the man of
passionate ethical aspiration Plato parts company
with the great majority; his quest for safe conduct
leads nowhere. On the contrary, it raises a
greater problem: Where can be found a virtue-
making power of suificient practicability to realise
the Platonic ideal? Obviously it could not be
found in the Socratic precept, "Know thyself."
Knowledge alone was not enough. There must
also be desire and moral passion to attain good
ness, and Plato's gospel would have no meaning
to those lacking these things. In this fashion
Plato raised a problem which the more practical
mind of Aristotle endeavoured to solve,
Aristotle, a man of universal interests, is never
more practical than in his deahng with ethics. He
aims to bring phUosophy down to the level of the
ordinary man and make it practicable for a work-
a-day world. While agreeing with Plato in say
ing that a virtuous life requires reflection, he in
sists that the concept of virtue should be clearly
defined and, in the effort to give it greater distinct
ness, makes three important statements: first,
virtue is not an extreme position, but a golden
mean; secondly, it is not confined to specific ac
tions, but is a habit of mind which must be
formed by education and social discipline, and

94 THE RELIGION OF POWER
thirdly, the power to form virtuous habits comes
from an ideal poUtical environment.
These points deserve further consideration.
Virtue is conceived as a golden mean between ex
tremes. Excess and deficiency are characteristics
of vice, and the mean state a characteristic of vir
tue. For instance, courage is the mean between
the excess of foolhardiness and the deficiency of
cowardice; temperance the mean between licen
tiousness and insensibihty; or modesty between
shamelessness and bashfulness. This of course is
entirely in harmony with the Greek ideal of pro
portion.^ Aristotle makes an important distinction be
tween intellectual and moral virtues. Intellectual
virtues belong to the rational part of the soul,
such, for example, as wisdom and prudence. The
moral virtues belong to the irrational part
of the soul. This he describes as the concupiscent
part of human nature, which, while not possessing
reason, is capable of obedience to reason. Intel
lectual virtue is fostered by teaching and reflec
tion, but moral virtue is the product of habit.
Moral virtue is the fruit of a proper discipline
of the irrational or concupiscent part of the soul.
This calls for strenuous endeavour, since man is
' "The Nicomachean Ethics," pp. 47-48. Weldon's trans
lation.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 95
subject to both reason and impulse and they are
frequently in conflict. Moral virtue is the issue
of this struggle, it is the direct result of habits
formed in obedience to right reason.^
The power to form habits of moral virtue is
derived chiefly from an ideal political environment.
Ethics is a branch of pohtical science, and the good
life can be realised only under social discipline.
It is the function of the state to make men good.
By means of its authority it must discipline the
irrational part of the soul in conformity to right
reason.® These points are open to criticism. From an
ideal point of view the notion of a golden mean is
above reproach, but it does not work in practice.
The conception of the balanced life is an unstable
one; it gives too much scope to prudence, and in
the last analysis bases morality on expediency.
"Be not righteous over much, neither be thou over
much wicked," has been the favourite creed of
culture ; in fact the Epicurean code of morals was
largely shaped by this notion of the mean.
Aristotle's distinction between the rational and
irrational parts of the soul is a very important
one. He clearly sees what his predecessors had
but dimly discerned — that human nature is not en-
* Op. Cit., pp. 82-34.
» Op. Cit., pp. 345-346.

96 THE RELIGION OF POWER
tirely subject to right reason. The disposition to
act contrary to reason, to obey irrational impulses
and follow perverse inclinations, must be reckoned
with. This thing of being good is a strenuous
business. "The mind reigns, but does not govern,"
says Woodrow Wilson. "We are governed by a
tumultuous house of commons made up of the pas
sions, and the ruling passion is prime minister
and coerces the sovereign." Knowledge is not
sufficient ; man needs power to perform that which
is right. He must be assisted in attaining a good
life, and Aristotle is inclined to look for this in
the direction of an ideal pohtical environment.
Doubtless a philosophic genius would voluntarily
choose the path of virtue, but the plain man must
be assisted on the way. This was the function
of the state. Before the individual could be im
proved man must devise an ideal political institu
tion, through which alone social discipline could be
reahsed. Hence Aristotle places the virtue-mak
ing power in the function of the state. Dealing
with this difficult question he says: "If theories
were suffident'of themselves to make men good,
they woiild deserve to receive any number of
handsome rewards, and it would have been our
duty to provide them. But it appears in fact,
that, although they are strong enough to en
courage and stimulate youths who are already

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 97
liberaUy minded: although they are capable of
bringing a soul which is generous and enamoured
of nobleness under the spell of virtue, they are
impotent to inspire the mass of men to chivalrous
action; for it is not the nature of such men to
obey honour, but terror, nor to abstain from evil
for fear of disgrace, but for fear of punishment.
For as their life is one of emotion, they pursue
their proper pleasures and the means of gaining
these pleasures, and eschew the pains which are
opposite to them. But of what is noble and truly
pleasant they have not so much as a conception,
because they have never tasted it. Where is the
theory or argument which can reform such people
as these?" ^^
Aristotle's diagnosis is admirable. In recognis
ing the difficulty of subduing the concupiscent part
of the soul he was far in advance of his predeces
sors, but his view of that disciphne is distinctly
disappointing. The virtue-making power, which,
according to Socrates, belonged to all men, and
according to Plato, to a certain type of man, is
by Aristotle lodged with the state. Ethical sanc
tions are derived from political relations.
The weakness of the position is clear, since it
provides nothing for the proper discipline of a law
less will save an external relation to a political or-
" Op. Cit., pp. 343-344.

98 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ganisation. But social discipline has never been
sufficient. Nothing short of a radical change of
human nature from within can accomplish this.
And the want of power in a pohtical institution to
provide an effective control of individual perver
sity practicaUy reduces Aristotle's scheme to the
Platonic level. It is for the few rather than the
many. Assuming that it were possible in a com
pact city-state to provide a social discipline ade
quate to meet the situation, still the attainment
of virtue in the citizen would be conditioned by
the permanence of that form of government. The
ethical sanction would be no stronger than the
state itself. And if anything should happen to
disturb political security it would immediately in
validate the ethical sanction. And if this should
occur, the question of safe conduct would become
acute again.
And this took place in Aristotle's lifetime. All
ethical theories up to and including Aristotle's
were conceived within the limits of the Greek city-
state. But certain forces were now at work which
were calculated to disturb and eventually to de
stroy that form of government.
One of these forces was a constantly growing
sense of individual importance, Man was out
growing his traditions. The rationalistic move
ment, which in the fifth century had begun to

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 99
question and modify ancient religious and political
traditions, was peculiarly active in this direction
in the fourth century. The notion of individual
significance was being formulated, and this dis
turbed the social life of the age. Men were less
interested in ultimate theories and wanted a way
of hfe. The quest for safe conduct was becoming
urgent again because the needs of the individual
were felt to be paramount.
But another momentous change was impending.
On the one hand man's spirit was going out to
meet the world; on the other hand the world was
coming to meet him. The spirit of unrest within
the city-state was met from without by the rapid
rise of the Macedonian power and the conquest of
the world by Alexander the Great. The barrier
between East and West was broken down and the
currents of life and opinion freely mingled. The
ancient provincialism was giving way to a new
sense of cosmopolitanism and a feeling of world
wide interests cut up and modified the old racial
exclusiveness. Man was tormented by a new fear and a new
desire." He feared the consequences of this
momentous pohtical upheaval. Could he retain
his political freedom under the new conditions?
Did not these changes expose the native Greek,
" Bevan: "Stoics and Skeptics," pp. 24-28.

100 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ever the passionate lover of liberty, to slavery and
degradation? Did not the collapse of the city-
state seriously impair if it did not utterly destroy
the authority of ancient religious traditions? Man
was tormented by new and disturbing ideas about
everything. He was intensely conscious of loneli
ness. In this enlarging world he was without
shelter for body or soul. He was like a youth,
bom and bred in a provincial community, who
suddenly finds himself alone and friendless in the
streets of a great city. Amid new forces, strange
faces and novel experiences he feels the remoteness
and insignificance of his cherished traditions, the
utter inaptitude of his point of view on every
thing. Such a man will desire a way of life above
everything. So felt the people of the ancient
world, particularly the conservative citizens of the
old city-state when Alexander broke down the bar
riers between East and West and gave them a
chance to see things from a cosmopolitan point
of view. Old religions, philosophies and morali
ties; old notions of political rights and privileges
were felt to be out of date. The time called for
a new intellectual outlook. It wanted new teach
ers and new schools of thought to meet the new
needs. But if these momentous changes made man fear
ful, from another point of view they inspired him

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 101
with a new desire. He wanted to take his place
in the new order of things. He began to have
visions of a wider human relationship and gradu
aUy became aware of the possibility of a world
brotherhood. A fresh sense of the solidarity of
humanity was altering the ancient racial exclusive
ness. If the passing of the old made him lonely,
the coming of the new order made him keenly
desire a share in its experience.
The most pressing problem was how to meet
the new conditions. Obviously the old theories
would not suit the new age. They were too ab
stract and elusive to interest the plain man. He
desired something that had to do with the busi
ness of living. It was a time when the ordinary
man had to think about himself, and especially
when everybody -was looking for a way of life
and a scheme of thought adjusted to the new con
ditions. It was to provide a way of life that the philoso
phies of Stoicism and Epicureanism were devised.
These philosophies represent the ethical quest for
safe conduct in the Grseco-Roman world. How
these systems attained their influence over the
ages immediately following Alexander's conquests
is an important inquiry if we are to understand the
temper of the times to which the gospel was
preached.

102 THE RELIGION OF POWER
The primary need of the fourth century was
for individual guidance. This need is responsible
for two features of the new phUosophies. On the
one hand they were quests for the chief good by
means of ethical discipline; on the other hand
they were intensely dogmatic.
The morahty of the Greeks up to the time of
Socrates was instinctive rather than reflective.
Even with Socrates, Plato and Aristotle ethics
was subordinated to political science. The ethical
sanction was bound up with the fortunes of the
city-state. But the city-state was doomed. Man
was rapidly outgrowing its provincial limitations,
besides, Alexander's successes proved that form of
government inadequate. This immediately sepa
rated the science of ethics from politics and made
it a distinct object of inquiry. What the individual
required was to be assured of a way of life which
could afford tranquillity apart from favourable
circumstances and unconditioned by political re
lationships. Under the old economy the chief
good was always conceived as a composite thing,
composed of many elements besides moral sanity.
Youth, personal beauty, riches, intellectual power
and political security under the compact form of
a city-state were not only desirable concomitants
but the essentials of happiness. But the changes
of the fourth century had completely destroyed

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 103
this conception. It was impossible under the new
conditions to reahse a composite ideal of the chief
good. Man was stripped bare of all outward
goods ; he lost contact with inherited religious sup
ports ; he was tormented with new desires and new
needs, and was forced to seek spiritual compensa
tions apart from extemal conditions. How could
he meet such a world as this? How could he
face its adversities and cope with its uncertainties?
How could he become a contented citizen of this
enlarging commonwealth of humanity and stiU
retain a tranquil mind? The new philosophies en
deavoured to meet such needs as these.
But the age was indifferent to argument and
weary of speculations dealing with lUtimate ques
tions. These seemed beside the mark. The prob
lems of life were urgent, and men wanted quick
answers. They wanted something that would
work, and work promptly. Some were inclined
towards universal scepticism. It is interesting to
remember that Pyrrho of Elis, the founder of the
Sceptical school, followed Alexander to India and
returned more than ever convinced of the futility
of knowledge. He believed that nothing could be
known for certain about anything. Vague prob
ability was the only guide of life. This school per
sisted in the Grseco-Roman world and had in
Carneades a very able advocate, but we are not

104 THE RELIGION OF POWER
concerned with it here. The point of importance
to remember is that the age was indifferent to
sustained arguments and elaborate systems, and
demanded dogmas. It was ready to believe in
eaa-cathedra deliverances of any kind, provided
they had to do with the problem of moral direction.
It is an interesting thing, this recurrent demand
for dogma in the history of human opinion. After
ages of rationalism people wUl tum from argu
ment and system and demand the dogmatist. It
is a time when men will believe a conception not
because they think it is true, but because it is
powerfully and dogmatically proclaimed. It was
the demand for dogma, this disposition to believe
in a powerful preaching that gave to the philoso
phies of the fourth century something of the
quality of Hebrew prophecy. It was the desire
to believe in dogmas that made the personahty of
the phUosopher a more important element than his
teaching. The devotion of the foUowers to Epi
curus savoured of religious veneration. In fact,
it was attachment to his memory that protected his
system from the syncretic tendencies of the suc
ceeding centuries, Zeno, the founder of the Stoic
school, had a personal influence that went far be
yond the influence of his teaching. All this in
dicates that the age was rapidly approaching a
time when it would readily yield to personal lead-

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 105
ership, when it was going to reahse so acutely the
need for a way of life that it would follow any
man who could speak with authority on the main
question. We must study these systems from this point of
view. We cannot discuss them in detail; indeed,
it is not desirable that we should. What is needed
is to understand their spirit and main intention.
They were intensely sincere efforts to meet a press
ing need of the times. They were not attempts at
final systems of thought, but inspired by the prac
tical necessities of a series of profound changes
growing out of Alexander's conquests.
Stoicism centres in the will. Epicureanism in
the desires, Zeno's main principle was that man
has the power to will the good, and gain absolute
independence of external conditions of life. The
right use of the wiU would make man free in a
world of change. Zeno held, and rightly I think,
that many of hf e's evils come from an over-elabora
tion of desire. If you reduce the number of your
desires, you reduce your needs to a minimum, and
you at once limit the possibility of worry. Desire
must be brought under the discipline of the wiU.
Man overcomes the world by a noble defiance, by
the adjustment of his demands upon it to the re
quirements of a disciphned personality. But what
assurance of success has he? Supposing his in-

106 THE RELIGION OF POWER
tention to be right, can he depend on the uni
verse ? Will it help or hinder him ? Is the universe
friendly or otherwise? Zeno answers that the uni
verse is friendly because it is rational. All that
is necessary to realise the chief good is to adjust
decisions to right reason; hence the problem is
simply one of adjustment. But by what rule?
Zeno replies "by following nature." To "follow
nature" means to obey her essential meaning. But
what is the essential meaning of nature? Zeno
goes back to the speculations of Heraclitus. Her
aclitus taught that the universe was made of fire.
It was instinct with reason and spirit. The uni
verse in short was ahve, and this life had a voice
which he called the "Logos" or word. The word
was inteUigible to any one who was wUling to listen
to it. It told man that God and humanity were
alike essentially rational beings, and this notion
of imphcit rationality was taken over by the Stoics,
and when they speak of following nature they
mean to obey the voice of reason, which is the
spirit and life of aU things. This in many respects
resembles Bergson's "elan vital" or push of life.
It is open to aU who have the sense to understand
it. "Will to be good," Zeno seems to say, "and
you may defy circumstances." By bringing the
wiU under the control of reason man could never
go wrong simply because the universe is friendly.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 107
in short instinct with Providence, with God. There
is a Semitic strain in Stoicism which is expressed
in this characteristic doctrine. Zeno himself was a
native of Citium in Cyprus, and many of the later
Stoics were Semites.
The notion of an immanent and guiding Spirit
in the universe is suggested in the beautiful hymn
of Cleanthes, the immediate follower of Zeno:
"O king of kings
Through ceaseless ages, God, whose purpose brings
To birth, whatever on land or in the sea
Is wrought, or in high heaven's immensity;
Save what the sinner works infatuate." ^^
This quotation suggests Stoicism's noblest con
tribution and characteristic weakness. By foUow
ing nature the Stoic believed he was following
God. Man was akin to the etemal, and God was
always wiUing to aid the striving spirit. It was a
strenuous effort to adjust human nature to the
requirements of God, and at the same time give
man a position of undisturbed tranquiUity in the
midst of a changing world. Undoubtedly it proved
a powerful agent in stabilising minds naturally
disposed to goodness, but its characteristic con
fession is found in the statement that the Sovereign
WUl has no meaning for the "sinner infatuate."
This, however, did not disturb the Stoic, because
he was not interested in the "sinner infatuate."
'^Adam's translation: See Hicks' "Stoic and Epicurean,"
pp. 14-16.

108 THE RELIGION OF POWER
He accepts Aristotle's notion of the irrational part
of the soul and endeavours to destroy this side of
human nature by a rigid discipline of the desires ;
but the older Stoics thought of goodness and
badness in such an absolute sense that they left no
possible encouragement for the ordinary man. A
man was either good or bad, and that was the end
of it. Either he foUowed nature wholly, or not at
all. There was no middle ground. They admitted
that the ideal wise man was rare in our work-a-
day world, but they would not alter their view.
Of course, this made for hardness, austerity and
grimness, but it made men strong enough to face
the world with a valiant spirit.
There was another element in Stoicism which
made for hardness : I refer to its doctrine of inten
tion without desire.^* The Stoic believed that de
sire in great measure determines happiness. Re
duction of the number and intensity of desires
limits the possibihty of unhappiness. But his
special aim was not to make man happy but to
make him good, and goodness was an affair of the
wiU rather than of desire. StUl he did not beheve
in cloistered goodness. The Stoic must take part
in the world's work because he belonged to a
universal brotherhood. But he must aim to serve
others without allowing his feehngs to become in-
" Bevan: Op. Cit., pp. 58-67.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 109
volved. He must serve his neighbour, but he must
not love him, neither must he worry if his service
is a failure. His purpose was to do good to others
but he would indulge in no useless regrets. Com
passion or pity were vices because they operated
against the interests of peace. "In the service
of his fellow man he must be prepared to sacrifice
his health, to sacrifice his possessions, to sacrifice
his life; but there is one thing he must never
sacrifice — ^his own eternal calm." ^*
The Stoic was trying to end life in himself. He
is the Pharisee of the heathen world, a preacher of
an impossible creed of strenuous endeavour; a
seeker always after virtue : very much of a Puritan,
sometimes a prig, always a dogmatist, and always
tremendously interested in preserving at any cost
his peace of mind. But he was something more
and greater than this. He was a citizen of the
world because he believed in the universality of
reason. He cheerfuUy put behind him the old
social and poUtical conceptions; he broke away
from ancient speculations and faced the new age
with a noble defiance of circumstance, simply be
cause he believed that everything meant intensely
and meant good — for him. We can hardly over
estimate the power of Zeno's mind battering syl
logisms and dogmatic preachments in stabilising
"Bevan: Op., Cit., p. 67-

110 THE RELIGION OF POWER
an age adrift on a sea of cosmopolitanism. Men
were wUling to seize anything substantial enough
to carry them through the great flood to peace and
safety. This is enough to account for the influ
ence of Stoicism on the hfe and opinions of later
centuries. The foil of Stoicism was Epicureanism. The
Stoic believed in overcoming the world by de
fiance; the Epicurean by a judicious compromise
and the avoidance of extremes. One was founded
on predominance of wiU, the other on the proper
co-ordination and development of desire. Stoicism
had in it a Semitic strain of exclusive devotion
to an ideal; Epicureanism expressed the Greek
sense of proportion; the aim of the one was the
safe life, of the other, the complete life,
Epicurus believed that most of hfe's troubles
were due to excess and one-sidedness. He traced
much of life's unrest to religious observances and
endeavoured by means of the physical specula
tions of Democritus to show that, while there were
gods, they took no interest in the affairs of men.
He elaborated an atomic theory of the universe,
holding that only two things exist : atoms and the
void, AU things being atomic and subject to
change, the fear of gods and the fear of death
are delusions. Best banish such fears and con
centrate attention on this life. Since it is aU we

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE GREEKS 111
have, we ought to make the best of it. He aimed,
you see, to abandon all extreme positions and all
impossible quests, and to adapt life to a wise com
promise with daily responsibUities. Happiness
was to be realised in a proper co-ordination of de
sires, in the enjoyment of the amenities of human
intercourse, in. the cultivation of friendships and
the pleasures of social hfe.
In brief the ideal of the Stoic was perfection
through the predominance of will over desire, while
the ideal of the Epicurean was comfortableness
in the ciUtivation and control of desire.
The chief good according to Epicurus was the
pursuit of pleasure ; but by pleasure he meant only
a condition of existence free from pain or want.
In the avoidance of excess and indulgence, in the
combination of plain living and high thinking, he
was a conspicuous example of his teaching. But
the weakness of the system lies in its loose defini
tion of pleasure as the chief good and in giving too
large an influence to worldly prudence. By leav
ing such matters to individual preference it is easy
to understand why the system broke up into a
series of lawless tendencies. We must not forget,
however, that Epicureanism had an immense sig
nificance for one of the noblest minds of the last
century of the Roman republic, and in the "De
Rerum Natura" it attained a dignity and moral

112 THE RELIGION OF POWER
strength which gave it wide influence in that age.
These practical methods of dealing with the
issues of life represent the ethical quest for safe
conduct, which manifests itself among the Romans
in the scepticism of Lucretius, the opportunism
of Cicero, the humanism of Virgil, and the resig
nation of Seneca. Stoicism and Epicureanism
were final efforts to obtain peace through philoso
phy. They had an important bearing on the re
ligious situation in the Grseco-Roman world when
Christianity began its westward movement.

LECTURE IV
THE ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS

LECTURE IV
THE ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS
Alexander's conquests had, as we have seen, an
important influence on the social and political life
of fourth century Greece. His successes further
enlarged the conception of individual significance
and, by destroying the old city-state, made man
a citizen of the world. By undermining ancient
traditions concerning politics and religion these
momentous changes brought the question of safe
conduct to the front as the paramount need of the
times. The age was impatient with arguments
and too much in a hurry to concern itself with
speculative systems. It desired something posi
tive, concrete and simple, and was willing to be
lieve in dogma and hsten to prophecy. It was an
era of popular preaching and ethical propaganda.
Under these circumstances Epicureanism and Sto
icism arose. And it was due to the fact that the
moral situation of the Roman world immediately
preceding the Christian era resembled in many
important particulars that of fourth century
Greece, that these philosophies had such a wide in
ns

116 THE RELIGION OF POWER
fluence on the period. In this lecture we shaU con
sider the ethical quest among the Romans as re
flected in the opinions of four great men. We
shall study it in the scepticism of Lucretius, the
opportunism of Cicero, the humanism of VirgU
and the resignation of Seneca. These men ear
nestly endeavoured to adjust the human spirit to
the requirements of the moral nature, but if we are
to understand why they believed this to be such an
important problem we must seek the reason in the
history of those times.
The last century of the Roman Republic has
fittingly been called "the terrible century," It
stands almost alone among the ensanguined pages
of history, "That period in Italy," says Prof,
Conway, "had seen twelve separate civil wars, six
of which had involved many of the provinces; a
long series of pohtical murders, beginning with the
Gracchi, and ending with Caesar and Cicero; five
deliberate legalised massacres, from the drum head
court martial which sentenced to death 3000 sup
posed followers of Gaius Gracchus, to the second
proscription dictated by Marc Antony, Men still
spoke with a shudder of the butchery of 7000
Samnite prisoners in the hearing of the assembled
senate, and the boy Virgil would meet many men
who had seen the last act of the struggle with
Spartacus and his army of escaped gladiators —

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 117
6000 prisoners naUed on crosses along the whole
length of the busiest road in Italy, from Rome to
Capua," ^
The causes of these grave pohtical disorders
were various, but they may be reduced to one : to
the feU disease which the Greeks called "stasis,"
that attacks political organisms at certain pe
riods of their history. Stasis, as Prof. Fowler de
fines it, is "to take up a distinctive position in the
state, with malicious intent towards another
party," ^ This is Ulustrated by the oligarchic oath
quoted by Aristotle: "I wiU hate the Demos, and
do it all the harm in my power," Of course, such
an attitude was fatal to patriotism, for it developed
into an exaggerated form of partisanship, or what
socialists caU "class consciousness," Stasis usually
began with friction between the few and the many
and was always intensified by war; for war in
creased the burden of taxation, engendered ani
mosity between rivals and developed selfish am
bitions. This malignant disease of stasis, which destroyed
the Greek city-state, was epidemic in the last cen
tury of the Roman Republic, It is necessary to
consider the development of a tendency hitherto
foreign to the Roman temperament,
* Virgil's "Messianic Eclogue," pp. 33-34.
== "The City-State of the Greeks and Romans," p. 254.

118 THE RELIGION OF POWER
The misfortunes of a nation often rise from its
conspicuous successes. The final victory of Rome
over Carthage was from many points of view a
vast misfortune. By that victory she won her
peace, but she also discovered her fatal power for
conquest. It was the beginning of the end of
Roman simplicity. The old Romans were farm
ers. If they went to war, as they often did, it was
in defence of their homes, but with the conquest
of Carthage Rome became a nation of aggressors.
Victory over a foreign foe developed the passion
for world dominion. As conquests followed with
relentless precision, restlessness attacked the body
poUtic, and the country was soon overrun with
foreign soldiers, without a shred of patriotism and
utterly indifferent to the control of the civil power.
Factions developed around great leaders, political
jealousies ripened into fratricidal strife and civil
war, social disorder and a riot of irresponsible pas
sion destroyed the peace of the state.
Stasis set in with the agrarian disputes of the
Gracchi, and became epidemic in the next cen
tury. All the evils which Thucydides predicted
would fall on the Greek city-state had fallen on
Rome, Internal strife was the price she paid for
world power.
In addition to this, Rome was exposed to what
Cumont calls "the peaceful infiltration of the

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 119
Orient into the Occident," We are just beginning
to realise the enormous influence of the Orient on
the early Roman empire. The distinctive achieve
ment of the Romans has been their conception of
law. Almost everything else in art, science and
religion came to them from the Orient. Even her
form of government was eventuaUy orientalised
and most of the evUs which resulted in her decline
and fall came from her contact with foreign peo
ples.* In the last century of the republic the passion
for wealth, luxury and extravagance; the adop
tion of foreign fashions, manners and customs
and the pernicious influence of foreign supersti
tions destroyed her old simphcity so that it
could no longer be said that "the Roman Common
wealth stood on ancient character and on men." *
It was an age of profound disillusion, when ancient
traditions were questioned, and when men of
thoughtful mind looked to the future with fore
boding. Such an age as this could not but make a
deep impression on sensitive and earnest natures,
and its melancholy is reflected in its great htera
ture. But eras of political disenchantment often occa-
' Cumont: "Oriental Religions in Roman Paganism,"
Chapter I, passim.
* Ennius.

120 THE RELIGION OF POWER
sion reUgious revivals. Prolonged unrest begets
a passion for peace, and men begin to desire safe
conduct and moral direction. They are inclined to
look for compensation for material losses to some
form of intellectual or spiritual experience.
The political disorders of the last century of the
republic made the quest for safe conduct very
acute. The old religion was in a manner of speak
ing dead. It was influential in rural districts,
but had little vital significance for the thoughtful
cosmopolite. Rome was filling up with new cults,
coming for the most part from the East. Cybele
and Isis were there with their splendid promises
and ornate ritual performances ; other conceptions
were current, such as astrology, Syrian nature
cults, and foreign fashions in divination. Judaism
was not without influence, and many gentile minds
were in sympathy with its ethical monotheism.
But none of these cults satisfied the cultivated
man. He sought peace in some form of philoso
phy. The speculative systems of Plato and Aris
totle had less influence, however, than the con
crete conceptions of Stoic and Epicurean. These
phUosophies had been developed by influences with
which the Roman was famihar. The break up of
the city-state and the intensified sense of individual
importance resulting therefrom, had made the
question of moral direction paramount. Men

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 121
wanted peace and quiet in an age of trouble, and
the reflective Roman found in the moral passion
and slender speculative structures of these prac
tical systems a tranquUlity which nothing else could
afford. Stoicism had a far wider influence than
Epicureanism, since it was congenial to the Roman
temperament ; stiU the latter philosophy had pow
erful advocates, and in the person of Lucretius, one
of the most earnest men of the time, it attained a
moral grandeur that commended it even to that
strenuous age.
The advantage of these systems over more spec
ulative types lay in the fact that they were in
tensely dogmatic, professedly ethical in their aims,
and their teaching could be expressed in easily
remembered maxims. It naturaUy found its way
into popular preaching and was a frequent subject
for discussion in the schools of declamation.®
The tendency to philosophic discussion is strik
ingly shown in the writings of Cicero, but it was
the signal achievement of Lucretius that he trans
formed a series of loosely related speculations into
a rigid dogma, characterised by scientific consis
tency, poetic fire and spiritual enthusiasm.®
The great poem of Lucretius, on the "Nature of
' See Boissier: "Tacitus and Other Roman Studies," Eng.
Trans., p. 16S, passim.
^ Fowler : "Social Life at Rome in the Age of Cicero,"
p. 329.

122 THE RELIGION OF POWER
Things," is a reUgious phenomena. It probably
had little influence on his generation, but as an
expression of opinion on the urgent question of
moral direction it is of the first importance. This
poem reveals a mighty intellect of melancholy tem
perament and spiritual sensibility, trying to ad
just itself to the eternal issues of hfe in the face
of a most discouraging outlook. "Some men,"
says Henry Osborn Taylor, "live in the eternities,
and must at their perU keep in tune with them.
The need of adjustment belongs to them pecu
liarly." "^ This.was the inspiration of "De Rerum
Natura."
According to Lucretius the evil of the time had
a body and a soul. The body consisted of political
disorders which could be cured by no known pre
scription. The soul of evU he finds in a tyranny
of fear; chiefly the fear of gods, and the fear of
what might happen after death. "This terror,
therefore, and darkness of mind must be dispelled
not by the rays of the sun and glittering shafts of
day, but by the aspect and law of nature." ® Like
aU Epicureans he beheved in the existence of gods,
but he held that they took no interest in human af
fairs. They dwell "in their tranquil abodes, which

" "Deliverance," p. 2.
®"The Nature of Things," Bohn edition, Munro's trans
lation, p. 43.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 123
neither winds do shake nor clouds drench with
rains, nor snow congealed by sharp frosts harms
with hoary faU: an ever cloudless ether o'er cano
pies them, and they laugh with light shed largely
round. Nature, too, supplies aU their wants and
nothing ever impairs their peace of mind." ® Re
Ugious ceremonies designed to propitiate the gods
were groundless and irrational. The fear of what
might happen after death was equaUy false, since
the soul was mortal and perished with the body.
He developed the Epicurean theory of atoms into
a rigid dogma in order to prove the truth of these
contentions. It was best, he thought, to know the
truth. His arm, you see, was not to make men at
home in the world, but to get them through it with
credit. He had no remedy for poUtical disorders,
and little social passion. He does not expect any
change for the better. His single aim is to provide
safe conduct through an intolerable world. Per
haps his point of view was that of many cultivated
men of the time. The paramount need was an
estimate of Ufe that could quiet the mind, Lucre
tius beheved he had found this in the atomic theory
of Epicurus. With invincible dogmatism and pro
phetic fervour he preached salvation through the
study of the nature of things. Since religion and
immortahty were delusions, it were best to rid
» Op. Cit., pp. 83-84.

124 THE RELIGION OF POWER
one's self of such fancies and face the future with
a tranquil mind.
No man of that period more truly represents the
urgent need for safe conduct than Lucretius. In
him we see a spirit stripped bare of aU ancient sup
ports, devoid of consolations save such as might be
found within itself, calmly facing a future, than
which one more hopeless or melancholy could
hardly be conceived.
The important thing to remember is that Lucre
tius hated reUgion. His powerful ethical spirit
turned round upon the rehgious observances of
the time with relentless scorn, and his earnest scep
ticism cleared the threshing floor of a ruck of su
perstitions, and made it easier in the following
century to believe in rehgion as a moral dynamic
But what did Lucretius mean by rehgion? Wheiu
we think of religion we think of churches, and
spiritual relationships based upon a divine revela
tion. But of religion such as this, Lucretius knew
nothing. By "religio" he meant two things : first
a nervous fear of gods, and secondly, rites and cere
monies devised to rid man of this fear. In other
words "religio" meant nervousness, dread, super
stition. "Religio" manifested itself in rites and
sacrifices designed to propitiate the gods, and
while the poet had an instinctive reverence for
the traditional observances of his race, he re-

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 125
garded everything that went by the name of cult or
worship as an expression of superstition.
There was much in those days to justify this
notion of religion. The notion of an Absolute
and Infinite God has always been a painful one
to a mind unassisted by a revelation instinct with
a noble ethic. Too vast for the comprehension of
a finite inteUigence, it has always been easy to
break it up into a number of parts and associate
them with what is visible, familiar and human.
But so soon as man had made the gods in his own
likeness, he became dissatisfied with them, and the
sense of the etemal passing beyond these visible
and inadequate forms peopled the universe with
nameless terrors. The Greeks were most success
ful in humanising the gods; and yet the altar
that Paul saw in Athens was significant of the
fact that men reahsed the impossibility of express
ing the Infinite through finite forms, and had un
derwritten the uncomprehended elements of divin
ity and worshipped them under the comprehensive
designation of "unknown gods."
The consequence of such a tendency has always
been disastrous. For man began to think of gods
as dweUing everywhere. They dwelt on the earth
in birds, and beasts and creeping things; in trees
and stones and running brooks. They dwelt in
the heavens, in the sun and the moon and the silent

126 THE RELIGION OF POWER
stars. AU these deities assume the character and
participate in the passions of men. The tyranny
of elemental spirits was common in the time of
Lucretius. The nervousness of life which fear of
the gods inspired was transferred to the gods
themselves. They, too, were nervous, capricious
and irritable. You never could tell what a god
would do; you never could tell what he wanted;
what would please one might offend another. Be
sides you never could be sure where the gods lived,
and you had to be careful how you moved about
the world. You might step on a god, or eat him or
offend him some way; and although nothing hap
pened in this life, yet in the dread Acherusian
quarters in the under-world the angry god would
await you with a long-cherished vengeance.
A layman was helpless before this dread, and it
delivered him, body and soul, into the hands of the
professional religionist. A man could not marry,
go on a journey or make a purchase without pro
fessional advice. Armies and fleets were held up
because the auspices were unfavourable. The
soothsayer, diviner and religious quack flourished
on this weakness. The rich had many diviners,
but the poor had to take their chance.
The Romans of the last century of the Republic
were as dependent on the priest as moderns are
upon the physician. The fear of gods was analo-

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 127
gous to the present-day fear of germs. Disease in
those times was regarded as due to a dsemon; "if
you could drive him out you could cure the disease.
The same sort of thing is now said of bacilli, which,
however, have the advantage that they can be seen
under the microscope." ^"
This nervous dread was what Lucretius meant
by "religio." His age was priest-ridden, ignorant
and superstitious. He was convinced that the only
way to peace lay through a scientific study of the
nature of things. At one blow he would destroy
the fear of gods and the fear of death. It was a
sorrowful time at best. The world was f uU of dis
order, injustice, slavery and misery; why, then,
carry a needless burden, when the great book of
nature lay open, and beside it stood the portentous
figure of Epicurus — ^glory of the Greek race —
ready to interpret it so that a wayfaring man
though a fool need not err therein?
We know that the poet's estimate of religion
was a mistaken one. His was not the only view
that could be taken of it even in his day; but
in so far as "religio" meant superstition Lucretius
was right. Although he had no moral dynamic
and lacked positive assurance that he could remedy
the situation he had diagnosed, stUl he performed a
great service in clearing the ground of alien
" Lake: "The Earlier Epistles of St. Paul," p. 196, note.

128 THE RELIGION OF POWER
growths and prepared the way for a view of re
Ugion more in accord vsdth moral and spiritual
ideals. A word in passing must be said of Cicero. If
Lucretius represented the scepticism of the age,
Cicero stood for its opportunism. Prof. Fowler
caUs him "the last-born son of the old city-state." "
He was fond of philosophic speculation, and espe
cially interested in the syncretic movement which
combined Oriental mysticism with Greek ethics.
He was also fairly weU acquainted with Stoic and
Epicurean teaching, and at one time in his life had
been a disciple of the great Syrian Posidonius.
Posidonius was the most learned man of his time,
and his aim according to Mr. Bevan was nothing
less than "to make men at home in the universe." ^^
Cicero had long been under his influence, and
traces of it appear in many of the great politician's
writings. It can hardly be said, however, that
Cicero was interested in a personal rehgion, but
he thought highly of religious sanctions as aids
to good government. Towards the close of life,
under accumulating afflictions, he turned to Sto
icism for consolation : and by many treatises on the
nature of the gods, divination, moral questions
" "Roman Ideas of Deity," p. 5.
^^ For a brilliant account of Posidonius, see "Stoics and
Skeptics," Lecture S.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 129
and the like, indicated that he was a seeker after
God. Fowler thinks that had he lived in an Ori
ental city rather than in the metropohs he might
have been a "God-fearer."" I have often felt
that under favourable circumstances the same
might have been said of Lucretius. Both men
represent attitudes towards the question of safe
conduct : one the sceptical, the other the opportun
ist, yet neither indicates the highest tendency of
the age. For this we must tum to VirgU.
VirgU has exercised a powerful influence over
the world's imagination, not only because of his
poetic genius but also on account of his religious
sensibihty. He was the most spiritual man of
the heathen world: a representative of a religious
tendency that commends itself because it is rooted
in the homely soU of humanism.
It is interesting to compare him with Lucretius.
Both men felt that the evils of the time had
reached a climax. Both had a healthy dishke
for the crowded hfe of cities, and a passionate
love for the open country, but they differed widely
in their outlook. Virgil believed that the world
was young, a mighty faith in that age of gloom.
He stood in the darkness, it was true, but he was
waiting for the dawn. The golden age was re
turning upon the world: that is why his poetry
" Op, Cit., pp. 4-5.

130 THE RELIGION OF POWER
is so animated, why its most sombre passages are
fiUl of charm. It is the charm of an eternally
youthful nature. He preached the worth of or
dinary man, the glory of the great past, and the
lasting significance of ancient mythologies. He
is looking for a better era : a time of brotherly in
tercourse, an epoch of universal kindliness and
pohtical stabUity which wUl be ushered in through
some personal agency.
It was far otherwise with Lucretius, He, too,
stood in the darkness but he looked for no dawn.
The world was in its decrepitude, and the sun of
life had set forever. The universe was about to
break up. What was the meaning of the strange
mistakes of nature and premature old age; of the
coUapse of ancient states and the passing of old
simplicities, and this oncoming tumult of riot and
disturbance and unrestrained passion, but that
soon the mighty atomic forces which rage and
storm beyond the flaming waUs of the world wUl
invade our domain, and aU things vanish away,
leaving not a rack behind. The peace of Lucre
tius is the peace of hopeless abandon and heroic en
durance ; the peace of Virgil is the peace of restful
confidence and serene faith in the future. He
was as earnest as Lucretius, and as catholic in his
tastes as Cicero; but he lacked the scepticism of
the one as he escaped the opportunism of the

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 131
other. What was the secret of his optimism? I
find it in three thhigs: his spiritual sensibUity, his
tempered Stoicism, and his splendid faith in the
power of personality.
His spiritual sensibility is revealed by his faith
in the native religion. The ancient mythologies,
which to Cicero were useful only as political ex
pedients, were to the sensitive spirit of VirgU in
stinct with reahty, aU the more impressive because
tempered by racial relationships and glorified by a
splendid tradition. He believed that these old
ritual performances embodied the rehgious experi
ence of his people, a spirit of devotion that still
lived in rural communities, and kept the altar
fires burning in many a lowly dweUing, The an
cient religion had united the gods and men in a
living bond, and in spite of the collapse of the
city-state and the oncoming tide of cosmopolitan
ism, the poet beheved in the vitality of the native
faith, and, like a captive Jew, waited for its restor
ation. The Stoicism of Virgil was tempered by his
humanity. The Stoic consecrated the new experi
ence of cosmopolitanism by a doctrine of universal
brotherhood. This sense of human solidarity had
been steadily growing, and had come into Roman
life in union with certain Semitic elements which
had tempered and humanised the hard old creed.

132 THE RELIGION OF POWER
This tempered Stoicism, for which Posidonius was
largely responsible, was pecuharly acceptable to
Virgil. He had the rare gift of making and de
serving friends. A winsome spirit, he moved
through his age, gathering the finest and best in
his environment, and ever giving expression to
his faith in man as man. Living in the metropolis,
sought after by the great and powerful, the friend
of Augustus and frequently moving amid the
splendid wickedness of the age, he remained to the
end unspotted and unspoUed, a frank, open-
hearted humanist. His genius embodied the Stoic
strength without its hardness, and his cleanness of
heart kept him unsoiled in the midst of evil with
out loss of social passion or pubhc efficiency.
Because of his faith in human nature, he felt
that a time was coming when the goodness of God
would be brought in sympathetic touch with the
pathetic needs of the age through some powerful
personal agency. The last century of the Repub
lic was distinguished by nothing so much as a loss
of faith in its political institutions. What could
hold society together and impart stability to gov
ernment? The old notions did not suit the new
needs. The age wanted a strong man to set it
right. The career of Julius Caesar brought the
notion of personal dominion to full consciousness ;
and when his death renewed the strife of civU war

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 133
the age eagerly tumed to Augustus and invested
him with imperial power, Augustus filled the
imagination of the time, notably that of Virgil,
There was a feehng abroad that something more
than right principles was needed to safeguard the
age from moral anarchy; this feeling passing over
into religion developed into the cult of Emperor
worship. Virgil keenly felt the need of personal
leadership. His great Roman iEneas might ap
pear in some strong man. We need not insist that
his fourth eclogue is a prophecy of Christ, but in
this poem he predicts the return of the golden
age, which, under the leadership of a child about
to be born, shall exceed other ages in peace and
good will. In some respects this conception re
sembles Isaiah's Messianic predictions, so much so
in fact that some scholars have maintained that
Virgil was influenced by Jewish prophecy,"
Whether this be true or not is unimportant ; what
is of moment here is the great confession of faith
in the power of personality, a confidence in a lead
ership that should stabilise government and give
peace to the individual. Virgil's great service to
his age consisted in shaping up its instinctive desire
for personal direction, in arousing hopeful antici
pations concerning a change in the political and
^* Virgil's "Messianic Eclogue," Mayor, Fowler and Con
way, pp. 115-131.

134 THE RELIGION OF POWER
spiritual situation, and from this point of view
he may be regarded as a forerunner of Christian
ity, It is extremely difficult to resist the convic
tion that had he been more favourably situated,
he, too, might have been a "God-fearer." At any
rate he well deserves the praise of Dante :
"Thou didst like him, who goes by night, and
carries the hght behind him, and profits not him
self, but makes the persons foUowing him wise,
when thou saidst : 'The world is renewed. Justice
returns, and the primeval time of man, and a new
progeny descends from heaven,' Through thee I
became a poet, and through thee a Christian," ^®
We now pass to consider a great figure of the
following century: a man whose teaching illus
trates the strength and weakness of Stoicism in
contact with practical life — I mean Seneca.
Naturally it may be asked : Why prefer Seneca
to Epictetus or Marcus Aurelius? The answer is
that Epictetus represents Stoicism in detachment,
a Stoicism of contemplation rather than action.
His theory is worthy of high consideration, but the
range of his activities was so limited as to be of
little value for our purpose. On the other hand
Marcus Aurehus was a public character of large
capacity. He realised Plato's dream of "a phi
losopher on the throne;" but his teachings iUus-
^^ "Purgatory," vv. 67-74, Norton's translation.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 135
trate the decrepitude of a system that was a weary
old creed in the Antonine Age. His attitude is
that of a judge rather than of an advocate; more
over he is too introspective for our purpose. Dr.
Gildersleeve aptly calls him "a keeper of a patho
logical peepshow." "
What we wish to knov/ is how will a Stoic meet
the trials and temptations of such a period as the
Neronian reign of terror? We know what the
Stoic professed; but we should like to know how
he behaved as a member of society and man of
affairs. Such considerations make the career of
Seneca of immense importance, because it exhibits
better than that of his contemporaries the strength
and weakness of the Stoic position.
Seneca was bom in Spain and brought to Rome
in the last years of the great Augustus, He
grew up in the reign of the gloomy Tiberius and
barely escaped with his life during the frantic
reign of Caligula, He attained a high position
in the state during the Claudian regime, but fall
ing the victim of a plot was banished to Corsica,
from whence after eight weary years he was
recalled to become the tutor of Nero, He
diligently tried to form the character of his royal
disciple on a noble model; his treatise on "Clem
ency" written for Nero's guidance is a mirror for
i» "Essays and Studies," p. 300.

136 THE RELIGION OF POWER
princes, and is one of his finest productions. For
a period he was one of Nero's chief ministers, but
his influence on his capricious master was slight
and always dangerous. His relation to Nero was
represented in caricatures of the time as that of
a butterfly acting as charioteer to a dragon.^ '^
Eventually the unnatural relation was broken off,
and Seneca retired to his viUa and gave himself
to philosophic contemplation, the society of friends
and the preparation for death. He died, finally,
by his own hand at the command of Nero during
the Pisonian conspiracy.
The character of Seneca is full of violent con
trasts and these often appear in his writings. Per
haps there never was a man of such intellectual
force and moral sensibility so entangled in a
world that he despised, yet lacked strength of
character to forsake. Rich beyond the dreams of
avarice, he is constantly preaching the glory of
poverty. He knew the burden and the danger of
wealth. "A great fortune is a great slavery," he
writes to Polybius.^* It was his wealth rather
than his supposed complicity in the conspiracy of
Piso that made him an object of Nero's vengeance.
While professing Stoic principles he often lived
in Epicurean surroundings. Obliged by public
" Grant: "The Ethics of Aristotle," Vol. I, p. 351.
" "Minor Dialogues," Bohn edition, p. 360.

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 137
duty to mingle in corrupt society, he vainly longed
for quiet and seclusion. Graver things have been
said of him. There are tales of shameless intrigue
and possibly he was implicated in the murder of
Agrippina. As a youth it is likely he had a fair
share in the vices and follies of his time. The
truth is, Seneca was naturally disinclined towards
¦corrupt society and under favourable circum
stances would have more thoroughly realised the
Stoic ideal; but situated as he was, his strength
and weakness are alike revealed in almost every
action. During his Corsican exile the brother of
Polybius died. Polybius was the rich and influ
ential freedman of the Emperor; and to him on
that occasion the exile wrote a letter of consolation,
ostensibly to offer his sympathy, but in reality to
enlist the powerful henchman's services in securing
his recall. In this letter he indulges in outrageous
flattery of Claudius, when at heart we know he
thoroughly despised the man. If we desire to
know his real opinion of the Emperor we should
read the "Ludus de Morte Claudii," a pitUess
satire on the supposed efforts of Claudius to enter
into heaven.^® In fact Seneca was something of a
sycophant and timeserver, and it is easy to hold the
opinion that has prevailed from Dion Cassius to
^'Translated in the Loeb Classics under the title: "The
Pumpkinification of Claudius."

138 THE RELIGION OF POWER
Carlyle that he was a trimmer and a hypocrite.
In some respects he is very like Bunyan's By-
Ends. But there is something more to be said. If
through weakness he often descends into the sink of
iniquity, which in those days yawned at the feet of
public men, he rises frequently to sublime heights
of moral aspiration and spiritual contemplation.
In his last days the man was penitent, contrite,
and passionately interested in moral reformation.
At heart he wished to do right, but found him
self often obliged to make concessions that he
knew to be wrong. He lacked power to break
away from an evU environment; he sought in
Stoicism something that would give him strength
to check inherent weakness, and he probably suc
ceeded as weU as any well-meaning man of his
age. It was easy for Epictetus to lay down the
law in his state of detachment ; it was pleasant for
Marcus Aurelius to indulge in introspective specu
lations during the leisure of his mihtary cam
paigns; but it was altogether another matter to
live hke a Stoic in the circles of society where
Seneca's interests lay; and the man's inconsis
tencies make him aU the more interesting as show
ing the strength and weakness of Stoic principles
in contact with real life.
Stoicism was Seneca's religion. Many of his
precepts pre very like those of Holy Writ, and an

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 139
interesting parallel might be drawn between his
teaching and that of Paul. This indicates that
in his powerful inteUect the ethical significance of
life was being sharpened by an intensified sense of
God. He had, as Prof. DUI has indicated, to an un
usual degree the power of moral diagnosis. He
had the fatal gift of insight, and looked deeply into
the heart of the age. He saw its sins and weak
nesses, its sullen hates and vain ambitions, its
keen desires and abortive remedies. More than all
else he was aware of its profound melancholy.
"Look round you, I pray you, upon aU mortals,"
he writes to Polybius; "everywhere there is ample
and constant reason for weeping. . . . Tears wiU
fail us sooner than causes for shedding them. Do
you not see what sort of life it must be that Nature
has promised us men when she makes us weep as
soon as we are born?" ^^
Seneca's insight was due to his perception of
moral reality; he seemed to feel as if the drab
life of the age was overlooked by an unattainable
Purity. He had no adequate remedy for evU
save to fall back on the familiar principle of Stoi
cism that what could not be cured must be endured.
And his chief aim was to temper this endurance
with sympathetic understanding. He was a good
20 Op. Cit., p. 357.

140 THE RELIGION OF POWER
diagnostician, but a poor healer, and he knew it.
He is not willing to preach the hard old creed
of self-sufficiency, because his own sad experi
ence had made him realise the need of a dynamic.
But he tempered his Stoicism with humanism.
He was full of pity and compassion for the over
wrought age, and so he became, to use a phrase
of Prof. Dill, "a spiritual director." ^^ Philosophy
became a quest for consolation and a meditation
on death. He shows us better than any contem
porary writer how philosophy was ready to aban
don the effort to set things right, and accommodate
itself to immediate human necessity. The prime
need of the time was for consolation, and so
Seneca became a consoler, a lay-pastor who was
among the people as one :
"Who most has suffered, takes dejectedly
His seat upon the intellectual throne.
And all his store of sad experiences he
Lays bare of wretched days;
Tells his misery's birth and growth and signs,
And how the dying spark was fed.
And how the breast was soothed, and how the head
And all his hourly anodynes." "^
We have now traced the ethical quest for safe
conduct from its inception in the age of enlighten
ment among the Greeks to its culmination in the
resignation and sadness of the Roman Stoic
"^ "Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius," Book
III, Chapter 1.
22 Matthew Arnold- "The Scholar Gipsy."

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 141
Seneca, The real test of the religious status of
a people is not what is manifest in the lowest
expression of life, but what is missing from the
highest reaches of aspiration. As M. Denis
remarks : "When one wishes to find the conscience
of a people, it is not always in their actual be
haviour that it should be sought for: it is often en
tirely present in their prayers and in their re
grets." ^^ And this is the impression such a review
of ethical opinion makes upon the mind of the
impartial reader. The moral passion of that age
was running far in advance of its moral power.
Its main problem was how to translate "gnosis"
into "dunamis." It had great ideals, but was
keenly aware of their impotence. What it wanted
was a virtue-making power that could transform
precept into practice and ideals into character.
The distinctive service of the ethical thinkers of the
period was in making the problem explicit ; in de
fining its limits, in sifting out the various methods
of accommodating the human spirit to the imperi
ous need for adjustment, and finally, by their
confessions of futility, showing the utter inade
quacy of any scheme of reform based on human
nature. These great men could draw near and hear what
2* Quoted by Angus : "The Environment of Early Chris-
tianiiy," p. SO.

142 THE RELIGION OF POWER
God would say, but few there were who could
hear for others. Not one of them, unless it be
Virgil, had any message of encouragement for
the masses of the people. They have nothing to
say for the plain man. Their ways of adjustment
were open only to certain highly endowed classes;
and eventuaUy within these favoured groups the
pessimism, sadness, and resignation serve better
than anything in that age to show that what the
world needed was not a diagnostician but a healer,
not a reformer but a Saviour.
Even then, had they been aware of it, there were
some who were looking for adjustment in another
direction. Another teaching was abroad in the
land. You would not find it in the temples of the
mystery religions nor in the lecture haUs of the
philosophers, but you could hear it proclaimed in
the humble synagogue of the Jew of the disper
sion. Many gentiles had broken away from the
native reUgion; they were stiU less inclined to
adopt one of the Oriental cults then epidemic in the
empire; neither were they looking for adjustment
in the direction of philosophy. Their keenest wish
was for a dynamic personality functioning in hu
man history. They were waiting for a deliverer, a
redeemer ; and while waiting for him had grouped
themselves, "a fringe of devout heathenism," round
the Jewish synagogue. They were attracted by the

ETHICAL QUEST AMONG THE ROMANS 143
ethical monotheism of Judaism and inspired with
its Messianic hopes. This brings us to the Jew,
and opens the way for a study of a third phase of
the quest for safe conduct, that manifestation of
reUgious experience which seeks adjustment with
God by means of legal obedience to a revealed law.

LECTURE V
THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS

LECTURE V
THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS
In turning from the gentile to the Jew we pass
from the region of speculation to the domain of
revealed religion. The primitive religious impulse
has been defined as "man's effective desire to be in
right relation to the Power manifesting itself in
the universe." The imperious need for adjust
ment led to certain quests or pilgrimages. Hither
to we have considered the pilgrimage of the imagi
nation which culminated in the mystery religions,
and the pilgrimage of the mind which manifested
itself in the ethical speculations of the Greeks and
Romans. We now take up the pilgrimage of the
conscience which reached its climax in the legalism
of the Jews.
The consideration of this question, however,
has certain limitations. We are not to ask what
the religion of Israel was intended to be under the
providence of God ; nor what that religion was in
the teaching of the prophets, but what it came to
be under the distorting influences of Jewish par
ties. We wish to understand why the Jew rejected
147

148 THE RELIGION OF POWER
his Messiah in the age when Christianity began its
westward movement.
The failure of the Jew is one of the great trage
dies of history. Christianity met with greater re
ceptivity among gentiles than among Jews ; God-
fearers pressed into the kingdom ahead of the
chosen people, and a race that God had trained for
centuries rejected its Messiah whUe heathen peo
ples received Him gladly. How shaU this failure
be accounted for? The explanation hes deep in
the history of the past.
In becoming the special object of Divine provi
dence the Jew had three distinct advantages over
other peoples. In the first place he had a revela
tion of the true God. The monotheism of Israel
was the direct outcome of revelation and not the
product of a slow evolution. Not only did the
Jew have the idea of one God, but this notion of
Deity was founded not as among heathen peo
ples on unlimited power, but upon character. The
one God was a holy and righteous God. In the
second place, the Jew enjoyed a covenant rela
tion to God ; he was a chosen instrument of Divine
providence. In the third place the Jew was in
possession of a Divine law. All these features gave
him a distinct advantage over other peoples.
What then was the notion of salvation held by
the average Jew? How did he answer the ques-

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 149
tion of getting right with God? This is a fair
question, and cannot be answered by a study of
the prophetic teaching, or of the function of the
law as it was interpreted by special revelation. Our
question is rather with the notion of religion as it
lay in the popular mind. The religious problem
of the Jew was less complex than that of the gen
tile. The gentile had to determine the nature
and attitude of the power manifesting itself in
the universe from speculations of various kinds;
and he never could be sure that he was right. With
the Jew, on the contrary, the problem was very
simple. The power manifested itself in a revela
tion. The supreme God had chosen Israel for a
special destiny and given it a law. How then
did the idea of right relations with God appear
to the average Jew?
Apparently it passed through two distinct
stages.* From the settlement in Palestine to the
return from the Babylonian exUe, the ordinary
Jew had a very simple answer to the question of
right relations. Being a member of the chosen
race and a child of Abraham, he reasoned that he
was born in right relation with God. Believing
that he was the heir to all the covenant promises,
he does not appear to have seriously questioned his
reUgious status. Eventually this led to the de-
* F. B. Westcott: "St. Paul and Justification," pp. 11-14.

150 THE RELIGION OF POWER
velopment of a conventional morahty in harmony
with the ritual and legal requirements of the law of
Moses ; and finally this notion of ritual obedience
came into conflict with the moral sense of the race,
especiaUy with the teaching of the prophets. We
are quite familiar with the stubborn resistance of
the popular religion to aU forms of prophetic in
fluence. It was not possible for the average Jew
to question his religious status so long as he be
lieved that he was born in right relations with
God. The question of safe conduct as an individ
ual problem does not appear to have been raised
until after the exile.
But the Babylonian captivity produced very
profound changes in the Jewish view of religion.
It had much the same general effect on the Jew
as the collapse of the city-state had upon the
spirit of the Greeks and Romans. So long as
Jerusalem stood inviolate the average Jew lived
undisturbed in his national exclusiveness. He was
deaf to the warnings of conscience, and equally
indifferent to the prophetic teaching. But when
Jerusalem was destroyed by the Babylonians it
meant the end of the old theocratic state. The
death blow to national security brought the ques
tion of spiritual relationships definitely within the
ken of individual consciousness.
The exUe sharpened the sense of ethical mono-

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 151
theism; it made the average Jew aware of the
spirituahty of God; it brought the wUl of the Al
mighty into direct contact with a sensitive con
science. The natural result was to intensify the
conception of spiritual reahty.
The new sense of spiritual reality broke down
the two barriers which hitherto had enabled the
Jew to live at ease in Zion. On the one hand "it
substituted the church for the state. The old
theocratic state having ceased with the fall of
Jerusalem, a new notion, that of a spiritual com
munity, came into the mind of the Jew, and right
status with God was conceived as a personal rather
than a national one. On the other hand, by placing
emphasis on the moral rather than the ritual as
pects of the law — since with the faU of Jerusalem
he also lost contact with the temple worship — ^it
sharpened the sense of individual responsibility and
made the quest for safe conduct a personal one.
For the first time, the average Jew became aware
of the force of prophetic teaching. It was better
to obey than sacrifice, and righteousness was be
lieved to be more acceptable than burnt offerings.
The new feeling of spiritual reality had destroyed
communal morality and developed the notion of
personal morality. The primacy of individual
hfe was distinctly taught by Ezekiel. One of the
common complaints of the exUes was that they

152 THE RELIGION OF POWER
were suffering for the sins of their fathers, "Our
fathers have eaten sour grapes," they said, "and
our teeth are set on edge," But Ezekiel told them
that this proverb should no longer be current in
Israel, for "the soul that sinneth, it shaU die. The
son shaU not bear the iniquity of the father, neither
shall the father bear the iniquity of the son; the
righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him,
and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon
him," ^
The net result of the exile was to bring the
question of safe conduct to the front as a problem
for the individual. This led to a development of
vast significance for the future of Israel.
From the beginning of their return from the
Babylonian captivity, the Jews were troubled by
two tendencies — a nationalist tendency and a cos
mopolitan tendency. On the one hand some
wished to keep Israel exclusive and separate from
other nations; they were ambitious to restore the
race to its old position as a separate state. On the
other hand some felt the attraction of Persian in
fluence. They were in favour of a more liberal
policy of deahng with other peoples. One was a
tendency towards spirituality, the other a drift
towards secularism.
This difference of opinion was very acute when
xviii: 20.

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 153
Ezra began his work of reform. His problem
was a dual one. It was important at the outset
to secure national sohdarity. He was afraid of
the cosmopolitan tendency because he believed that
if this policy should prevail the Jew would lose
his racial distinctiveness. But it was clear that the
old city-state could not be restored. The bond of
union, then, could not be a political one. It must
be distinctly religious. He solved the political
difficulty by dealing with it from the standpoint of
a religious reformer. But the idea of religion
needed definition, because the spiritual experience
of the exile had subordinated ceremonialism to
moral considerations, and the problem of right
relations had become a matter for conscience to
determine. Obviously he could not base his re
ligious hopes on a repetition of the old temple serv
ices ; these were still important, but they were not
then fundamental. Ezra, therefore, determined
to make the moral law the basis of national solidar
ity; and this was highly expedient, since it was in
harmony with the new spiritual requirements of
the individnal. The Jew could no longer be sat
isfied with a communal morality; neither could he
satisfy his conscience by the reflection that he was
right with God because he was a child of Abra
ham. He had outgrown this view. He must
find a basis of right relations in something that he

154 THE RELIGION OF POWER
could do. But since he could not be content with
ritual observances he was compelled to develop his
religious activities in harmony with the moral
aspect of life. In brief he must find an ethical
sanction for conduct.
Ezra rightly comprehended the need of the
time, and endeavoured to satisfy it with a fresh
promulgation of the law of Moses. Under the
pre-exilic regime the ordinary Jew was content
with racial relationships; but under the post-exilic
regime he adjusts himself to God through legal
relationships. This new basis for national sepa-
rateness, conforming as it did so accurately with
the need of the times, sufficiently accounts for the
success of Ezra's reforms. The secular party,
which desired more liberal relations with gentiles,
was defeated by the religious party which de
sired to preserve racial exclusiveness by means
of a legal bond. The secularists gravitated to
wards the temple and its ritual services and even
tuaUy assumed the duties of the priests, while the
rehgious party, being in the majority, gravitated
towards the law, and eventuaUy became the domi
nant influence in the synagogue worship.
But a new development immediately set in,
because the law had to be interpreted, and the
new order of Scribes arose in Israel, whose duty
it was to expound and explain the law. But the

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 155
law not only required exposition, but also ad
justment and expansion to meet the constantly
growing needs of the people. In pre-exilic times
this was the work of the prophets, but since in
post-exilic times the voice of prophecy was si
lenced, the duty came into the hands of the Scribes,
And the interpretations and expansions of the
Scribes developed a body of oral tradition known
as the unwritten law, and was so closely identified
with the written law as to be regarded of equal
importance; and the composite structure was
finally accepted as the standard authority for
Jewish religion.
As time passed the reUgious and secular ten
dencies drifted further apart and began to crys
tallise into distinct parties with different policies
of government and confiicting national ideals.
The secular party identified itself with the temple
services, whUe the religious party concentrated
its interest on the interpretation of the written
and oral law and the development of the syna
gogue worship; until towards the close of the
second century, B. C, we find them with specific
names. The secular tendency associated with the
temple worship developed into the party of the
Sadducees, whUe the religious tendency asso
ciated with the synagogue developed into the
party of the Pharisees ; and these parties were di-

156 THE RELIGION OF POWER
rectly responsible for the tragic faUure of the
Jew. The Sadducees were the direct descendants of
the priestly party which towards the close of the
Greek period wished to HeUenise the Palestinian
Jews.^ They were a cosmopolitan party whose
rehgious interests were limited to the conserva
tion of the temple ritual and the enjoyment of
priestly privileges; and for the preservation of
these rights they were always wiUing to compro
mise with gentile influences in behalf of the
status quo. As a rule they were of the nobil
ity. Religion was an expedient in the interest of
worldly position. The Sadducee ordinarily was
a man of culture and refinement, a creature of
loose and often sceptical views and at heart a sec-
lUarist. His opposition to Jesus was based less
on a religious than a political ground. He ad
vocated the crucifixion of the Saviour on the
ground that His mission was a seditious one. It
was better, in his view, that one man should die
than that the whole nation should perish. Apart
from this aspect, his influence on the problem of
safe conduct was negligible.
The Pharisee, on the contrary, is the most in
teresting, as he is the most pathetic figure in Jew-
' Hastings' Dictionary of the Bible : Article "Sadducees."

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 157
ish history after the exile.* From the beginning of
that momentous experience there had been a re
Ugious or separatist party in Jerusalem. Dur
ing subsequent changes of fortune, this party
had consistently exalted the written and oral laws
above ritual performances; and as consistently
feared and opposed every attempt to bring
Judaism into harmony with the cosmopolitan ten
dencies of the age. The world had outgrown sim
ple conceptions of government, and since Alex
ander's conquests the East and West had been in
intimate contact; still there were many Jews who
honestly believed that the wave of cosmopolitan
ism could be successfully resisted ; and as the gen
tile world pressed hard upon the little nation, the
party of separation persistently emphasised a le
gal relation to God as the basis for racial solidar
ity. Towards the close of the second century B.
C, the tendency of separation had developed into
a powerful party known as the Pharisees,
The Pharisees differed from the Sadducees in
many important particulars. Fundamentally they
were a religious party, while the Sadducees were
secularists. But there were other differences. The
Pharisees stoutly maintained the authority of the
* Hastings, Op. Cit., Article, "Pharisees." For an ap
preciation of the Pharisee, see Herford's "Pharisaism."
Crown Theological Library.

158 THE RELIGION OF POWER
oral law and put it on a level with the law of
Moses. They were full of missionary zeal. Our
Saviour said that they would "compass sea and
land to make one proselyte." ^ They were men
of the synagogue rather than of the temple, but
were chiefly distinguished by their principle of
separation. They took solemn vows to have no
dealings with gentiles, and they were not willing
to give religious privileges to the "people of the
land." They were zealously interested in the in
terpretation of the written and the oral law, and
in the time of Christ the traditions of the elders
had assumed such a complicated form that it was
difficult to distinguish them from the original de
posit of revelation. Moreover they had enlarged
the sphere of the ceremonial law until it compre
hended the most minute phases of conduct.
The Pharisees were the most religious men of
their age, the Puritans of the first century before
Christ, and we are obliged to recognise their ear
nestness and sincerity. They preserved a spiritual
view of religion in the era of syncretism which fol
lowed Alexander's conquests, when so many re
ligions and philosophies lost their distinctive char
acter. Moreover we must admit that the vices of
the Pharisees were not personal, but those of the
system. They were victims largely of conscien-
* Matthew xxiii:15.

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 159
tious wrong-headedness, and their influence over
later Judaism was paramount.
What was the source of Pharisaic influence?
To answer this we must return to the question
raised by the Babylonian exile. That question
was: How can a man get right with God? The
exile had taught the Jew that the old notion of
right relations through Abrahamic descent was
not sufficient. A new feeling of individual re
sponsibUity forced him to seek for a personal
method of satisfying his conscience. The strength
of the Pharisee's position lay in the fact that he
answered this question in a way that was in many
respects adequate for the needs of the time.
The Pharisee held that a right relation with
God could be obtained by means of legal obedi
ence to a revealed law. Originally the law was
contained in the ten commandments, but since
prophecy had ceased it became necessary to elab
orate the original law so as to meet new condi
tions; hence had developed a vast body of tradi
tions and interpretations known as the oral law.
The law, written and oral, was the only rule of
faith and practice. The law had the advantage
of being concrete. Men felt that they must do
something to be saved. It was this feeling that
gave such great influence to the Scribes and Phar
isees. The great tradition eventually assumed a

160 THE RELIGION OF POWER
Divine significance and the Pharisees began to
teach the doctrine of the eternity of the law. From
many points of view the real God of the Pharisee
was the law.
But the law was given to the chosen people
only; obedience was the religious bond of the Jew
ish race, and its perfect working seemed to depend
on a restoration of the state to its former inde
pendence. The supremacy of the law was bound
up with a revival of nationaUsm, and this concep
tion of the mission of the Jew determined the
characteristic points of view of the Pharisee in
the time of Christ. First, he insisted that man
was saved by the law, that the law was etemal
and unchangeable, and he was determined to re
sist any change or innovation. He consistently
opposed Jesus because He would not accept his
view of the law. The intense patriotism of the
Pharisee led him to interpret destiny in national
rather than in spiritual terms ; at least he regarded
spiritual dominion as conditioned by national in
dependence, and this led him to think of his Mes
siah as an earthly rather than as a spiritual ruler.
Both powerful parties among the Jews ex
pected a Messiah, and both looked for national
security as a result of His reign. But while the
Sadducee thought of political security as an end,
the Pharisee regarded it as a means only, I think

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 161
the Sadducee would have been content with a
Messiah subject to Roman rule. He would have
been satisfied with any phase of pohtical life that
aUowed him to enjoy unmolested his priestly priv
ileges. If this new relationship permitted him to
indulge his cosmopoUtan tendencies, so much the
better. But the Pharisee held a sterner view. Pohtical
security was a necessary means of attaining
spiritual dominion, and he would have been
content with nothing less than a restoration of
the old theocratic state, and a complete separa
tion of the Jew from gentile influence. He was
not afraid of a revolution. In fact he wished for
it, and probably expected the Messiah to begin
it. The Sadducee feared nothing so much as sedi
tion; hence the secularist opposed Jesus because
His principles seemed inimical to the status
quo; the religious enthusiast opposed Him be
cause His teaching was hostile to Pharisaic inter
pretations of the law.
It is easy to understand why the Pharisee mis
conceived the Messianic mission; it is also easy
to comprehend his faUure to accept Christianity.
But his failure was significant of another thing.
It was significant of the breakdown of the idea of
salvation based on legal observances; and it is

162 THE RELIGION OF POWER
with this aspect of the question that we are mainly
concerned. The Pharisaic system was the best product of
later Judaism; in fact it was the best the Jew
could offer to gentiles; and its failure to accom
phsh the desired result is an impressive iUustra
tion of the failure of the third great quest for
safe conduct, which was one of the distinguishing
features of the rehgious situation during the west
ward movement of Christianity.
The Pharisaic system failed for three reasons:
it misconceived the law of Moses; its conception
of religion could not satisfy the moral sense; and
it could not successfuUy resist foreign influences.
The Pharisee misconceived the law of Moses.
He believed that the law had been given as the
way of salvation, but this is contrary to the teach
ing of the Scriptures. What was the Biblical
function of the law? This is an important ques
tion, and can be answered, I think, in a simple
way. The function of the law was a dual one : it
was that of a diagnostician and of a schoolmaster.
In the first place the law was given in order
that it might diagnose a moral situation that called
for redemption. A law was needed to define sin,
since where there is no law there is no clear con
sciousness of sin. From the beginning man had
been haunted by a sense of evil ; by a feeling that

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 163
he was not right with God. It was moral uneasi
ness that developed the primitive religious impulse
into "an effective desire to be in right relations
to the Power manifesting itself in the universe."
A law written on the heart, while effective in
making man uneasy, could not without further
definition work a spiritual change in his view of
his need. The function of the law was to diagnose
the trouble, to create the notion of sin. It did
this in two ways. The Shorter Catechism defines
sin as "any want of conformity unto, or transgres
sion of, the law of God," On the one hand, sin
has a horizontal aspect. Before the law came
man did what was right in his own eyes; lines of
behaviour crossed and recrossed each other with
out interference; but when the law was given, a
straight line was drawn through human conduct,
and at every point man's actions appeared cross
ing and recrossing this line. That is the meaning
of transgression. The law created the notion of
sin as disobedience and lawlessness ; it revealed sin
in its positive or commission aspect. On the other
hand sin has a perpendicular aspect. Before the
law came man was aware of not being in right rela
tions with God, Something was wrong with his
character structure, something lacking, but what
he could not tell but vaguely; but when the law
was given, a plumb line was dropped down beside

164 THE RELIGION OF POWER
the character structure and it was seen to be out
of plumb. This created the notion of sin as a
want of conformity, of sin in its negative or omis
sion aspect. The effect of the law was to sharpen
and make definite what was implicit in experience.
Transgression and want of conformity were the
elements always present in the life of a fallen man.
In the second place the law was given to act as
a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ. A school
master in the old days was not a teacher, but an
attendance officer. It was his duty to bring the
pupil to the school, and when he tumed him over
to the teacher his work was done. This is Paul's
argument in Galatians. ® The law revealed man's
desperate situation. It was a situation calling
for remedy. The moral law diagnosed the situa
tion, and the ceremonial law, through its types and
sacrifices, was a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ.
Christ was the Lamb of God who came to take
away the sins of the world. And the law was most
efficient. If the moral law made man aware of
his need, the ceremonial law suggested an ade
quate remedy.
But the Pharisee misconceived the law. In
stead of regarding it in its Scriptural light, he
turned it into the way of salvation; and under
«iii:1^25.

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 165
his skilful manipulation it became a burdensome
imposition upon an already overloaded people.
The Pharisaic system failed, because, by rigidly
limiting the law to externals, it failed to satisfy
a growing moral sense. This was a constant criti
cism of Jesus. The law as the Pharisees under
stood it did not go deep enough. Applied exclu
sively to the outer manifestations of life, it could
not influence the thoughts or satisfy the con
science. In previous lectures we have noticed a very sig
nificant phase of ethical development: how the
growing moral sense of a people will turn round
upon ancient religious traditions and cut them to
pieces, or transform them ethically. It does not
require an extended examination to discover that
this process was going on within Pharisaism it
self. Take the case of Saul of Tarsus. Exter
nally his career aVa Pharisee appears satisfying.
Believing himself blameless before the law, he
does not seem to question his religious status.
But an examination of some of the autobiograph
ical references in his epistles raises a question
whether, after all, his satisfaction did not mask a
profound uneasiness, as of a sense of something
lacking, of an experience inconsistent with his
ideals. It is difficult to say to what precise period we

166 THE RELIGION OF POWER
may assign that remarkable analysis of experience
contained in the 7th chapter of Romans. This
chapter is a "chamber of horrors and an Iliad
of woes" and there is much in it that seems to re
fer to his pre-Christian experience. As a Chris
tian he boasts of the freedom of his spirit; he is
conscious of a feeling of harmony within himself
produced by faith in the gospel; while the chapter
under review indicates a mighty struggle between
a law in the members and a law in the mind, quite
out of harmony with his professions of liberty.
For my own part, I am convinced that this chap
ter refers in some measure at least to his experi
ence under the law. If he could look upon the
law as limited to externals, he might be content;
but this was precisely what so earnest a nature
could not do. In spite of his Pharisaic training
the law became spiritual and inward; it ceased
to be a mere preceptive influence and became a
power that searched his very soul, A diagnosti
cian is often incapable of suggesting a remedy,
but he can make his patient profoundly uneasy
by telling him what is the matter with him. In
Paul's case the law worked better as a diagnosti
cian than as a schoolmaster. We have noticed
how the growing moral feeling among Greeks and
Romans tended to widen and deepen the rift in
the soul, and to produce a feeling of conflict be-

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 167
tween flesh and spirit. Aristotle expresses it as
a conflict between reason and passion in these
words: "It is clear that there is in man another
principle which is naturaUy different from reason
and fights and contends against reason. For just
as the paralysed parts of the body, when we in
tend to move them to the right, are drawn away
in a contrary direction to the left, so it is with the
soul ; the impulses of incontinent people run coun
ter to reason." ''
What speculation was doing for the gentile, the
law was doing for many Jews as earnest as Saul
of Tarsus. How accurately he sums up the case
in the familiar phrase: "To will is present with
me, but how to perform that which is good, I find
not." * This is a confession of a need for a virtue-
making power; a demand for a remedy adequate
to meet a situation created by the law. It is also
a confession that power to meet this need is not
to be found in human nature. And this was prac
tically the same conclusion reached by ethical
thinkers from Plato to Seneca. Speculation de
veloped the conviction in the gentile mind, and the
law created it for the Jew, and both were brought
to the same level, Pharisaism failed simply be
cause it could not meet the growing demands of
^ "Ethics," Welldon's translation, p. 32.
*vii:18,

168 THE RELIGION OF POWER
the moral sense, and this failure is significant of
the failure of the quest for safe conduct by means
of legal obedience. A man might keep the ex
ternal demands of the law, and stUl be far from
attaining peace. He had to reckon with an inner
experience which the law could sharpen and in
tensify, but in no wise relieve, save as by suggest
ing submission to Christ. I do not mean to assert
that thinking alone would have made Paul a
Christian ; but I do believe that a profound feeling
of dissatisfaction with the Pharisaic programme
made it easier to yield to Christ, when he was con
vinced that He had risen from the dead. In his
epistles he attacks the law in no academic spirit.
His passionate assertion of the freedom of the
Christian against the tyranny of tradition is the
offspring of a conviction that the Pharisaic con
ception of the law was not only inadequate, but
positively harmful. But he gave the law credit
for performing its divine function; it was an at
tendance officer to bring men to Christ. When
this was accomplished its work was done.®
Pharisaism failed in the third place because it
could not successfully cope with foreign influences.
This is apparent from the history of the Jew of
the dispersion. The power of the Pharisee was
exercised in the synagogue. The Sadducee was
"See MacGregor's "Christian Freedom," passim.

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 169
a man of the temple; as an ecclesiastical politician
he had httle interest in provincial enterprises.
The Pharisee, on the contrary, vitaUy influenced
the life of the provincial Jew because the bond of
racial solidarity was the synagogue service. But
in spite of this the Pharisee found it difficult to
plant legalism in gentile soil. The Jew of the dis
persion emphasised the ethical rather than the le
gal aspect of religion. Separated by time and
distance from the temple services, he was less in
terested in ceremonial observances than his Pal
estinian brother. Moreover, he was less suscepti
ble to Pharisaic exclusiveness and more open to
cosmopolitan influences. This is indicated by the
speech of Stephen, a Jew of the dispersion. He
devoutly believed in the temple and the law as di
vine institutions, but clearly saw that they had
been superseded by Christianity. Under such
circumstances the notion of ethical monotheism
as the foundation of spiritual religion became clear
and explicit. But the enlargement of the moral
significance of God tended to educate the con
science and intensify the struggle between the hu
man will and the ethical imperatives of the law;
and the net result was a sense of inadequacy in the
old way of salvation. The Jew of the dispersion
was far more wUling to receive Christianity than
his Palestinian kinsman, not only because his mind

170 THE RELIGION OF POWEl.
was open to new influences, but because the new
religion adequately met the demands of the eth
ical nature.
In these particulars we have an explanation of
the faUure of Pharisaism. By misconceiving the
law, so far from providing a way of salvation, the
Pharisee actually made the quest for safe conduct
more acute, since the law developed the moral
sense and made man aware of the inaptitude of
external righteousness. Our Saviour told the dis
ciples that unless their righteousness should ex
ceed that of the Scribes and Pharisees, they could
not enter the kingdom. Possibly many Jews of the
dispersion felt the same thing. The growing eth
ical feeling of the time made external methods of
salvation unfit and useless, and created a demand
for a virtue-making power that could give man an
undisputed status before the most High God,
The failure of Pharisaism was the failure of the
third phase of the quest for safe conduct.
Our consideration of the background of early
Christianity has been limited to a study of certain
persistent forms of spiritual experience. The
primitive religious impulse is "the effective desire
to be in right relation to the Power manifesting
itself in the universe." We have examined three
historic answers to this imperious need. Some
sought adjustment through ritual, others through

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 171
ethical reflections, and others, as in the case of
the Pharisee, through legal observances; and the
quests for safe conduct failed because they could
not provide a virtue-making power; they were
unable to evolve a moral dynamic of sufficient force
to meet the requirements of a growing ethical pas
sion. Every endeavour to attain peace naturaUy
increased the moral urgency of the quest, and in
the period under review this feeling was para
mount. Where in the midst of this welter of re
hgions, philosophies, and rituals could man find a
virtue-making power? The age was too impa
tient to hsten to argument ; it was beginning, too,
to weary of mere dogma. It most intensely
craved the appearance of a power manifest in ex
perience and working its will in historic forms
and comprehensible ways. The most pathetic
figures of the time were men like Seneca or Mar
cus Aurelius, representatives of the ethical quest ;
or men of the Pharisaic type, who held the impos
sible hope of a restoration of the ancient national
exclusiveness. But they were men of the past.
The more promising figures of the age on the
other hand were Jews of the dispersion, and God
fearing gentiles. They were men of the new age,
who could hope and aspire and grow. This was
the harvest which our Saviour could see. It lay
out there in the gentile world, prepared by cen-

m THE RELIGION OF POWER
turies of struggle and deferred hopes, of inapt
speculations and unfruitful moral experiences.
What could Christianity do for that age?
What could it say of the need for moral power?
Could it satisfy the passionate desire for safe
conduct? Was it too a mere theory, or a reUgion
of myths and symbols and ritual performances ?
Was it another ethical philosophy, or new legal
ism — another link in the chain of bondage — or was
it a virtue-making power, a story of a Mighty
Personality that had come into the world, to seek
and to save?
This was the inspiriting situation that con
fronted the many-sided mind of Paul when he
looked beyond the narrow confines of Judaism
to the Grseco-Roman world. And this vision of
opportunity is the explanation of his confidence
when he writes to the Roman Christians : "I am
not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the
power of God unto salvation to every one that
believeth; to the Jew first and also to the
Greek." ^^ In the first epistle to the Corinthians
he summons the ancient world to debate the ques
tion of safe conduct with him: "Where is the
wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the dis-
puter of this world? Hath not God made foolish
the wisdom of this world, for after that in the
"i:l6.

THE LEGAL QUEST AMONG THE JEWS 173
wisdom of God, the world by wisdom knew not
God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preach
ing to save them that believe," ^* For several cen
turies God had permitted the old world to think
about the question of safe conduct, and while the
moral strenuousness of life had become explicit,
and ethical passion stimulated, no djmamic to meet
the need had been devised. The scribe and the phi
losopher and the disputer of this world were silent
in the face of this tremendous demand. But a new
and entirely different force had come into the
world. It did not rely on the enticing words of
man's wisdom, or depend on an ornate ritual, but
was communicated to man through faith in a his
toric Person, Jesus Christ, the Son of God,
Mighty to save.
"i:20-21.

PART TWO: THE
RELIGION OF POWER

LECTURE VI
CHRISTIANITY AS THE RELIGION OF POWER

LECTURE VI
CHRISTIANITY AS THE RELIGION OF POWER
In passing to the constructive part of the subject
we must keep in mind the significance of the back
ground. The background is important first as
defining the feehngs of the Grseco-Roman world
concerning spiritual relations and outlook; and
secondly, as indicating the sort of rehgion the age
was prepared to accept.
The feeling that characterised the period was
one of distress. The collapse of the old city-state
had made it impossible any longer to believe in
the native religion; and whUe the Oriental mystery
cults were widely diffused, they had little signifi
cance at that time for serious-minded inteUectuals.
This class ordinarily sought peace in some form
of phUosophy. Epicureanism had many advo
cates, but the prevailing philosophy was Stoicism.
But whUe Stoicism proved a healing and con
soling influence to many distressed minds, its final
effect was to further intensify the unrest of those
who consistently followed it. It sharpened the
moral sense, clarified the ethical imperatives of
177

178 THE RELIGION OF POWER
life, but made the problem of safe conduct more
acute. The want of a dynamic seriously limited
the phUosophy in the directions towards which the
spiritual aspiration of the age was tending. It
was reahsed that right principles were not suffi
cient; a moral dynamic was sorely needed; above
aU there was a passionate desire for the appear
ance of a power in the hfe of the times that could
realise the spiritual aspiration and embody the
ethical ideal which haunted every thoughtf id mind,
Judaism was influential; its conception of ethical
monotheism powerfuUy attracted God-fearing
gentiles; the promise of a Messiah had simplified
the desire of the age for a demonstration of spir
itual power within the domain of history; yet it
was felt that something was wanting. What after
all was the advantage of ethical monotheism
if it only increased the feeling of imperfection,
and further enlarged the disproportion between
precept and performance, which tormented seek
ers after God? Where, too, was the Messiah?
Why did He not come to set the age right? Even
should He come, would He be able to solve the
problem of safe conduct, and set man right with
God? These questions of course did not assume the
form of rational inquiry; but they represented feel
ings and instincts, more or less vague and incho-

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 179
ate, yet powerful enough to intensify the moral
distress of the age.
Furthermore, the feeling of insecurity tended
to define the sort of religion the age was prepared
to accept. If it were indifferent to inherited be
Uefs and weary of fruitless speculation, or even
critical of the highest manifestation of religion
current in the empire, it is not unreasonable to sup
pose that a religious appeal calculated to impress
the times must proceed upon very different lines.
It must be an appeal not in behalf of a sup
posedly correct philosophy and dependent on the
skilful manipulation of interdependent proposi
tions, but able to point with absolute confidence
to historic performances. Such an appeal could
not make headway with promises alone, but must
show that its promises were actually being real
ised. The problem reduced to its simplest terms
was how to translate "gnosis" into "dunamis";
how to turn precept into practice, how to express
the moral ideal in character.
The age was rich, too rich in fact in ideas; it
was not barren of ideals, but it was painfully and
consciously aware of its lack of power; and it was
keenly felt that any solution of the problem of
safe conduct must tum not on the revelation of a
perfect moral system, but upon the operation of
a moial dynamic; upon the discovery of a virtue-

180 THE RELIGION OF POWER
making power at work within the sphere of man's
experience. The purpose of the study of the background
has been to bring out the material fact that the
age was ready to accept any religion that proved
itself a moral dynamic in the realm of history.
If we accept this interpretation I think it wUl
be an easy task to show the originality of Chris
tianity on its Graeco-Roman background. Our
estimate of the unique significance of the new re
ligion wUl be derived from the writings of the
Apostle Paul, because he was the man chosen by
God to interpret the gospel to the gentile world,
Paul was the one man among the Apostles who
had a comprehensive knowledge of the intellectual
and moral temper of the Graeco-Roman peoples.
His thoughts and aims were in the closest possible
touch with the age. He knew its peculiar needs;
he was conscious of its high aspirations; he visu
alised its moral degradation and sympathised with
its futility. He understood its philosophical pre
suppositions and rightly estimated its inteUectual
limitations. The chief interest of Paul's age was religion.
But the people as a rule were ignorant and super
stitious. To put hght in the place of darkness,
to impart knowledge to the ignorant, above all to
reveal the dynamic Personality of Christ to his

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 181
time, was Paul's ruling passion. He proclaimed
the joy of the light bearer to the Athenians in
these words: "Whom ye ignorantly worship.
Him declare I unto you," ^
There was something splendidly audacious
about the Christian programme. Its advocates
hoped to win a world steeped in philosophy, or en
meshed in the sensuous attractions of ritual and
ceremony, by telling it a simple story. But the
wisdom of God is evident from the results, for the
world was ready to listen to a story that could
correctly define its need and provide an adequate
remedy. What was there in the new religion most likely
to appeal to the gentile mind? Surely it is not
to be sought in its superficial aspects, for
Christianity despised nearly everything that the
pagan world praised, and praised nearly every
thing the pagan world despised. In the begin
ning it had to meet the test of ridicule ; its preach
ing was foohshness and its gospel a "sUly story";
but in the end it conquered the pagan world be
cause of its inner worth,^ It came to a people
tired of epigrams, sick of discussions, and tor
mented by a moral idealism they could not hope
to express in conduct. It offered salvation, both
*Acts xvii:2S.
^-Paulsen: "Ethics," p. 112,

182 THE RELIGION OF POWER
for this life and that which was to come, through
faith in an historic Personality, and eventually
such preaching made a profound impression.
Wherever the gospel was proclaimed people were
converted and God-fearing gentUes pressed into
the kingdom with joy and understanding. Chris
tian communities sprang up in the strategic cen
tres of population in Asia Minor and in Europe;
and a splendid church exercised a glorious minis
try in the metropolis.
At the outset the faith of the Christian com
munity was simple and uncritical. The novelty
of its ideas, the power of its promises, and the joy
of its experience was sufficient for the time being;
but as the new experience began to challenge the
attention of the world, the people asked questions
about it and compared it with other and more fa
miliar ways of salvation. In contrast with the
mystery cults it was painfuUy lacking in ritual
and in sensuous appeal; in comparison with cur
rent philosophies it was singularly barren in dia
lectic discussions and rhetorical embeUishments,
But people were puzzled by its mobUity, Juda
ism was rooted and grounded in the synagogue
worship and racial relationships; but here was a
religion that ignored differences of race and lo
cality, that could move freely about the world, in
dependent of tradition or local attachments. It

CHRISTIA.NITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 183
had all the attractive features of the mystery
cults, such as the open church, the non-secular
clergy, and it satisfied the social passion of the
time in its community life. Moreover, it breathed
lofty hopes of immortality and fellowship with
the eternal God, and yet so far from depending on
symbol or myth, or expressing itself in ornate rit
ual, it founded its promises on an historic Person
ality, It promised to unite man to God in such
a way as to fully satisfy spiritual aspiration, and
by faith in Jesus Christ to impart power to the
realisation of the moral ideal. It promised these
things, the very things the age passionately
wanted, but could it accomplish them?
That was the crucial question, for it raised the
problem of performance. At the outset it is quite
likely that many whose faith in the mystery cults
had been destroyed by the discovery that Cybele,
Attis or Osiris, so far from being historic per
sons, were myths and symbols only, had demanded
some proof of the historic reality of Jesus Christ.
Was the splendid object of gentile faith, the glori
ous Saviour of the Pauline gospel, a myth or a
reality? Had He once lived upon the earth, or
was He a product of the theological imagination?
Such questioning was inevitable, and at first it
was easy to satisfy it by oral testimony. There
were many aUve at that early stage of the church

184 THE RELIGION OF POWER
who had from the first been eye witnesses of the
majesty of Jesus, and their testimony was ade
quate to meet the requirements of the growing
community. But as time passed, and the churches
multiphed — especiaUy as the great leaders either
suffered martyrdom or were cast into prison — the
desire for a permanent record of the earthly hfe
of Jesus led to the writing of the gospels. The
characteristic demand for a dynamic Personality
probably influenced Mark and Luke in the choice
of materials, in order to exhibit the mighty power
of Christ as the world's Saviour.
But the problem was growing all the time, and
as spiritual life matured it demanded inteUectual
stimulus ; sentiments and impulses required a solid
basis of conviction. The demand of the age for a
dynamic quahty in rehgion was steadily forcing
the advocates of Christianity to prove that it was
a religion of power. The question was assuming
a concrete form: was Christianity a religion of
ideals or of performances? If it was a power, how
did it function in history? What were the evi
dences of its strength? What were the elements
of its efficiency?
The new faith was arousing criticism. Jews
were speaking of the cross as a stumbling block,
and Greeks were calling the gospel a "silly story."
Was Christianity after aU to prove a disappoint-

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 185
ment? In the end would it tum out to be as futUe
as a mystery cult, or as ineffective as a philosophic
theory? Paul realised that it was impossible to stifle or
ignore intellectual inquiry, and he deliberately
challenged the intelligence of his age, as he has of
succeeding ages, by a direct appeal to reason.
But his appeal was very simple and strikingly
original. It had nothing of the complexity of
current speculations. It was made, not in the in
terests of a philosophy of religion, but in behalf
of historic demonstration. His ultimate aim was to
tell the age what Christianity is, but his immedi
ate concern was to show what Christianity can do.
The age demanded a test of Christianity; and
while it stUl clung to the ancient obsession that its
needs might be met by some phUosophic or ethical
theory, it was inclined on practical grounds to be
suspicious of any religious appeal that resembled
the futile methods with which it was painfully fa
mUiar. The age still thought of religion from a
speculative point of view, but it was feeling after
God because it wanted a dynamic; and this con
fusion in the mind of the age suggests two ways
of testing a religion.
Mr. Balfour has reminded us of the double as
pect of all beliefs.^ On the one hand beliefs have
' "Theism and Humanism," pp. 58-59.

186 THE RELIGION OF POWER
a position in a cognitive series, and on the other,
hand beUefs have a position in a causal series.
When beliefs are viewed under a cognitive aspect
we are interested principaUy in a more or less suc
cessful interrelation of a series of interdependent
propositions, and this method followed to its log
ical conclusion results in a speculative view of re
ligion. But when beUefs are viewed under a
causal aspect, our interest is principally in a "tem
poral succession of interdependent events." Our
aim is not to formulate a system, but to discover
power. We may be unable to attain a perfect
system of truth; stiU if we can discover a divine
power functioning in the events of history and the
experience of mankind we may attain an historic
basis for faith.
As was intimated in the introductory lecture, I
desire to base my interpretation of Pauhnism on
this latter conception, Paul was tremendously
interested in a systematic development of Chris
tian truth, and for many minds such a systematic
conception of religion is a prime necessity; still
it is clear that most of us cannot witlihold our as
sent to Christianity until we get a complete and
comprehensive theory of it. We must seek an
adequate basis for religious faith in a knowledge
of the functions of Christian power. I believe
that a systematic view of religious truth is highly

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 187
desirable, but I am very well aware that for most
men it is impossible; and I am confident that a
perfectly satisfactory basis for faith can be found
in the causal aspect of Christianity. And I hold
this view not only because it seems to insure a
practical and workable basis for faith, but also
because it was Paul's method of approach to the
intellectual difficulties of an age, which in so many
important particulars resembles our own.
The difference between a cognitive and a causal
view of beliefs suggests the two ways of testing
a religion. One is to investigate its ideas, the
other is to examine its power. One studies its
principles, the other considers the facts and events
that make up its history. One asks: What is re
ligion? The other: What can rehgon do? One
is the test of discussion, the other of performances
and of fruit.
Paul's age was interested in both aspects of the
question, but the moral stress of the time tended
more and more to concentrate attention on the
causal aspect. Superficially the age was willing
to discuss the ideas of the new religion, but fun
damentally it was intensely interested in its per
formances. The test of religion by means of discussion is
an easy test, since it can be indefinitely prolonged,
and maintain its credit for a considerable time

188 THE RELIGION OF POWER
without perU to itself. But it is quite another
matter when one falls back on performances.
That is the acid test of religion, and it was to this
acid test that Paul submitted Christianity,
He seems to say to his age something like this :
"I could prolong the discussion of Christianity
indefinitely, and probably afford you, as I once
did Stoics and Epicureans in Athens, much pleas
ure in so doing. But that is not my object. I do
not come to you with the enticing words of men's
wisdom, but in the power and the demonstration
of the Spirit, I bring you no complete theory of
religion ; I do not wish to gratify your speculative
ambitions, but I offer you a reUgion of power,
based on the life, death and resurrection of a Di
vine Person; I offer you personal contact with a
spiritual dynamic which functioning in your ex
perience will bring you into vital relation with the
eternal God,"
This was the crucial question then, and it is the
crucial question now. Is Christianity a religion
of power? Most assuredly its originahty does not
he in the novelty of its ideas. Many of its ideas
are new, of course, but that is beside the mark.
The ideas of Christianity are means to an end;
in their doctrinal aspect they are descriptive of
dynamic functions; they are given to explain the

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 189
working of a power. Christianity is original sim
ply because it is a religion of power.
The quest for safe conduct had for its goal the
reconcUiation of man with God. It raised the
question : How can a man get right with the power
manifest in the universe, and tried to answer it in
various ways, such as ritual observances, ethical
speculations and legal obedience of a revealed
law; and all failed simply because they did not
have power. They were good diagnosticians, but
poor healers, and they left the world more miser
able than it was before. The want of power gen
erally determined the most distinctive desire of
that period. The absence of vitality in old po
litical theories and ancient forms of government
led to a wUlingness to entrust the fortunes of the
state to a strong man. The world in Paul's age
worshipped power as symbolised in the Roman
Emperor; and it as keenly looked for power in
religious experience. Could Christianity set man
right with God, and keep him faithful amid life's
increasing perplexities? That was the supreme
demand made on the new faith, and Paul's answer
was the proclamation of the religion of power.
A theory of power might explain the provisional
influence of Christianity, but it could not sustain
it. The important point was, whether the con
tention was in accord with facts. Theoretical

190 THE RELIGION OF POWER
cogency and enthusiastic propaganda were not
sufficient. What people wanted was not a theory
of power, but a demonstration of power in re
ligious history. If Christianity were true, where
were the evidences of its power on the field of
human history?
As has been suggested, this need in the begin
ning was met by the gospels. The people were
assured that the glorious Christ of the Pauline
preaching, so far from being a myth or symbol,
was an historic Personality. But as the spiritual
life matured the question assumed a different
form: Was the glorious Object of gentUe faith
one and the same with the gracious Figure en
shrined in the gospel story? In other words was
Jesus Christ alive? If so, He was dynamic; it
would prove that the "Still Strong Man of the
soul's need" had come, not as a symbolic ideal
but an actual personality. Religion would not
base itself on a pious memory of a dead Christ,
but upon the living Lord of Glory. The death
of Jesus would no longer appear as a calamity,
but as one of the links in a causal chain of redemp
tion, having its fitting climax in an historic resur
rection. Paul connects these two conceptions in
the epistle to the Romans. He is writing, he says,
of "Jesus Christ, Our Lord, which was made of
the seed of David according to the flesh ; but de-

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 191
clared to be the Son of God with power, according
to the spirit of 'holiness, by the resurrection from
the dead." *
The resurrection of Jesus from the dead is,
according to the Apostle, the fundamental demon
stration on the field of history of Christianity as
the religion of power. I do not wish to enter upon
an extended examination of the evidence for this
stupendous fact. Apart from the Scriptural evi
dence, which seems to me entirely adequate, be
hef in the historic resurrection of Jesus is an in
evitable inference from the whole course of Apos
tolic history.
It is frequently asserted that the resurrection of
Jesus is to be understood as a symbol of immortal
ity, or of the revival of spiritual life in man. If
this were true, the resurrection could have no
possible meaning for historic religion, for symbols
produce no events. They belong neither to the
cognitive nor to the causal series of beliefs, but
are suspended in a mid-region of ineffective senti
ments and are of no possible value in the solution
of the problem.
A symbolic view of the resurrection is entirely
contrary to the evidence. The New Testament,
the only document on which we can depend for
reliable information on the subject, nowhere de-
*i:3-4.

192 THE RELIGION OF POWER
scribes the resurrection of Jesus as a symbol; on
the contrary, it constantly describes it as a fact —
as an actual event in the sphere of history. It
was as much a fact of history as the birth, life and
death of the Saviour. If His death were an
actual event, so was His resurrection. To speak
of this most momentous event in the history of
mankind as if it were a symbol of "the renaissance
of the spiritual" is to substitute rhetoric for his
toric realism.
The tradition of an actual historic resurrection
of Jesus is as well attested a fact of Bibhcal
truth as any we have. Not only have we the
general consensus of the Apostolic church, sup
ported by the amazing vitality of the gospel
propaganda which professed to derive its power
from the fact of the resurrection, but we have
evidence of another kind of great significance.
On the one hand, if the resurrection of Jesus
were symbolic only, it is difficult to understand
why Christianity impressed the Grseco-Roman
world. The age was familiar with symbolic in
terpretations of religion, and increasingly scep
tical of myths. In the first and second centuries
the pagan theologians were doing their level best
to rid their gods of the stigma of myth, and the
mystery cults failed in the end partly because they
had no historic roots. But Christianity steadily

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 193
advanced in spite of persecution and political op
position untU it conquered the world, because it
was the religion of power, authenticated by an
historic resurrection.
On the other hand, if the resurrection of Jesus
were symbolic only, it makes the problem of ac
counting for historic Christianity insolvable, ex
cept on the hypothesis that Paul himself created it.
Yet to my way of thinking the strongest argu
ment for the historicity of the resurrection apart
from the dynamic character of early Christianity
is the religious experience of Paul. He emphatic
aUy declares his conviction that if there had been
no resurrection, it would invahdate the Christian
hope of salvation, make faith vain, falsify the
Apostolic testimony, and leave the world in its
sins. Yet his life and ministry were founded on
this fact, and reinforced at every critical stage
by his spiritual experience.^ He was a man of
immense inteUectual force, in the prime of his
career, with an accurate insight into the temper
of his time, and by race, and training, rooted and
grounded in the most stubborn as it was the most
plausible force opposing Christianity, I mean
Pharisaism. Is it easy then to believe that such a
man would break with the spiritual associations of
a lifetime, and become the chief advocate of a
*I Corinthians, xv:14-19.

194 THE RELIGION OF POWER
despised faith, that he would build round a per
sonality the exact antithesis of the Pharisaic ideal,
a religion that professed to be dynamic, when
all the time he knew its historic pretensions were
mythical and the central figure of his preaching,
a creature of his imagination? It is absolutely in
conceivable. Paul became a Christian because he
believed that Jesus was alive. He was convinced
that the great gulf between the human and the
divine life had been bridged by the incarnation of
the Son of God, and the resurrection was the
historic proof of a spiritual dynamic operating
within the sphere of human experience.
This is not only the strongest argument for
the resurrection, but it is also the all-sufficient
argument. If the resurrection be a fact of his
tory, it explains and authenticates aU that precedes
it and all that follows it. It becomes the proof
of power in the new religion. It belongs not
simply to the cognitive series of beliefs, but is
causal, productive and creative. It explains the
Apostolic faith in the simple story of the cross;
it explains the persistence of the gospel testimony
in face of the world's opposition; it also explains
Paul's willingness to submit Christianity to the
acid test of performance.
The Apostles did not preach a beautiful sym
bolism. They were not interested in revamping

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 195
worn-out philosophical platitudes; stiU less were
they indulging in the composition of lachrymose
epistles of consolation. They were the enthusias
tic advocates of a life-giving power, who put
behind their passionate proclamations the courage
and sanity of rich and deep conviction, because
they knew beyond all question that Christ had
risen from the dead. Christ was the power of God
unto salvation. In Him dwelt all the fiUness
of the Godhead bodily, and in Him Christians
were complete. The age demanded proof of the
reality of the Christian dynamic, and the Apostles
preached the historic resurrection of Jesus.
What did the stupendous fact signify? It sig
nified that the moral ideal, which had tormented
ethical thinkers of aU ages, and never more than
in that period, had finally appeared in historic
form — an actual fact of human experience. For
two centuries thoughtful men had felt that some
thing more than right principles was needed to
set man right. It was increasingly felt that noth
ing short of a personal demonstration would be
adequate; and many were trying to shape their
conduct on the model of some ancient philosopher.
The typical wise man of the Stoic was an impos
sible ideal. "The Stoics admitted that he was as
rare in the real world as the phoenix; Socrates,
perhaps, and Diogenes had attained; or perhaps

196 THE RELIGION OF POWER
not even they." ^ What the world needed was a
demonstration of the ideal in an historic person
ality. This was the significance of the resurrec
tion. Jesus Christ was declared to be the Son of
God with power, according to the spirit of holi
ness, by the resurrection of the dead. In Jesus
the world had a perfect standard of goodness.
More could be learned of goodness, by consider
ing His character and conduct, than from cen
turies of ethical speculation.
But the resurrection did not reveal the moral
ideal in detachment, having a mere preceptive
value. If this were aU, so far from relieving the
tension, it would increase it to the breaking point.
If the relation of Jesus, the perfect ideal of char
acter, was that of a model to an artist, if it left the
question of attainment to the skiU of the individ
ual, the burden would still rest on the human
spirit, and this was precisely what the age could
not endure. It was rich in ideals, but poor in
power; and it wanted a dynamic, not in detach
ment but in actual contact with life. It was not
enough that Jesus should prove His power by
rising from the dead; the question stiU remained:
Could this power function in human experience?
The resurrection was a glorious fact, but was it
a gospel for men? The rehgion of a moral ideal
'Bevan: "Stoics and Skeptics," p. 71.

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 197
is a religion of despair, but a religion of a moral
ideal working in contact with human need is a
religion of hope and power.
This question could not be answered by argu
ment ; what was required was historic proof. Men
wished to be assured not only that Jesus was good,
but that He could make other men good. Where
then was the historic evidence of the dynamic
quality of the resurrection? Paul found it in
the Christian community. All over the empire,
both in Asia Minor and in Europe, churches had
grown up round the gospel message, and had at
tained distinction in Ufe and character through
faith in Jesus. This remarkable transformation
was directly traceable to the gospel. Wherever it
was beheved, it worked. It proved its reaUty
by its fruits. In the beginning the gospel preach
ing dealt little in argument. The message was
given simply and concretely, but whoever accepted
it experienced a spiritual change. For instance,
Paul asks the Galatians: "This only would I
learn of you: Received ye the Spirit by the works
of the law, or by the hearing of faith V' In Ephe
sians the Apostle connects the power of the gospel
with the resurrection: "You hath he quickened,
who were dead in trespasses and in sins. . . .
God who is rich in mercy, for his great love where-
Mii:2.

198 THE RELIGION OF POWER
with he loved us, even when we were dead in sins,
hath quickened us together with Christ, and hath
raised us up together, and made us to sit together
in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." *
The rise of the Apostolic church is a fact that
has to be accounted for. Why was it that a peo
ple who formerly lived in sin and superstition,
had suddenly risen above their age and attained
to morality and spiritual power, to cleanness of
life and unselfish zeal? The answer is found in
the creative power of the gospel. It was intended
to communicate power through faith to the in
dividual. To one familiar with those times, nothing is
more impressive than the account given of these
little Christian communities. Corinth was one of
the wickedest cities in the ancient world. It was a
most unlikely place for the reahsation of a spirit
ual experience, and yet Paul is able to address
that community as a church or household of God,
sanctified in the Lord Jesus and called to be
saints. In their old life they had been fornica
tors, thieves, hars and idolaters. "Such were some
of you," says the Apostle, "but now ye are sanc
tified, now are ye justified in the name of the
Lord Jesus, and by the spirit of God." ®
Mi:l, 4-6.
®I Corinthians, vi:9-ll.

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 199
The presence of these transformed hves in the
midst of a crooked and perverse generation was
an undeniable fact; and this is explained by the
dynamic quality imparted through faith in the
resurrection of Jesus. Paul prays that the
Ephesians may know "what is the exceeding
greatness of his power to us-ward who beheve,
according to the working of his mighty power,
which he wrought in Christ when he raised him
from the dead." This is a glorious fact : the power
that created the Christian community and func
tions in the experience of the individual is the same
power that raised Jesus from the dead.^"
Paul's age needed assurance of moral power.
It craved a demonstration in human experience
of a transforming ethical dynamic; and Paul and
his associates pointed to the two outstanding facts:
the resurrection of Jesus and the creation of the
Christian community. Both were real events of
history, and they were proof of the fruitfulness
of the new religion. The resurrection of Jesus
proved that behind the gospel message was a
dynamic hfe; the Christian community ^proved
the fact that the gospel was creative within the
sphere of human experience; and the supreme
revelation made by these two historic facts was
this, that the virtue-making power, which for
"Ephesians i:19-20.

200 THE RELIGION OF POWER
centuries had haunted the minds of ethical think
ers, had at last appeared in the historic Person
ality of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, Mighty
to save.
At the outset it appears that the preaching
of these two essential facts — ^the resurrection of
Jesus and the creation of the Christian commu
nity — ^was sufficient to stabilise the faith of the
church. They were the most obvious facts and
strengthened faith in the dynamic character of the
gospel in the face of a rising tide of opposition.
But new problems were developing, occasioned
by the growth of the church. So long as the
church was growing extensively the simple appeal
to essential and obvious facts would be sufficient
to stabilise faith and inspire zeal; but so soon
as the church began to grow intensively a new set
of questions would arise. For example, people
would wish to know something more in detail
about the function of Christian power in individ
ual experience. Paul clearly anticipates such a
desire in the first epistle to the Corinthians. He
had determined to know nothing among them
save Jesus and Him crucified, not, however, be
cause he had no deeper revelation, but because the
carnal character of the Corinthian mind made it
impossible at their stage of development to make
further disclosures. But Paul does take up the

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 201
doctrine of the resurrection in that letter, and
shows its relation to the individual experience.
He realised that spiritual progress depends in
part upon purity of heart and in part upon in
tellectual development. Granted that the heart
is pure, a time comes to every man when he is
obliged to think out the meaning of his experience;
and Christianity must be able to meet that need.
It is clear that a disposition to grow in knowl
edge inspired the Roman letter. Paul did not care
that his converts should remain undeveloped in-
teUectually. He wished them to become strong
men in Christ Jesus; he wUl not always feed
them with mUk, but insist that they partake of
strong meat.
Among the manifold tasks undertaken by the
Apostle, that of thinking out the ultimate mean
ing of Christianity was very important; and when
occasion justified it, he put his profoundest
thoughts into letters to various communities. And
it is not difficult to imagine that his thinking was
shaped in part by the quest for safe conduct, which
was a characteristic feature of his age.
The quest for safe conduct was inspired by an
imperious need for adjustment with God. Such
methods as ritual observances, ethical specula
tions and legal obedience to a revealed law had
failed to satisfy the conscience of the time. Men

202 THE RELIGION OF POWER
were disposed to ask, so soon as they became fa
miliar with the outstanding features of the new re
ligion: Can Christianity set man right with God?
Is it the religion of power, and if so, where are
the evidences of this fact? And Paul pointed to
the resurrection of Jesus and the creation of the
Christian community.
These facts being obvious, the next question
would be: How does this power function in in
dividual experience? How does it deal with man's
past, present and future needs ? How does Chris
tianity adjust man to the requirements of con
science? How function in the present strife with
evil? What assurance can be given that Christ
will bring man to the goal of his hopes? Life
was difficult at best; Christianity further com
plicated it because it invited persecution: assum
ing then that it was the religion of power, could it
give peace in this present world, and assurance of
final attainment of the next life?
These were important questions, and they had
to be answered ; for on the understanding of such
questions would turn the stability and power of in
dividual experience.
Paul answered such questions as these by teach
ing the doctrines of Christianity. To use again
Mr. Balfour's important classification of beliefs,"
" Op. Cit., pp. 58-59.

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 203
we may think of Christian doctrine as belonging
either to a cognitive or to a causal series. If we
think of it under a cognitive aspect, our interest
wUl chiefly concern itself with a series of interde
pendent propositions, and our aim will be a com
plete system of religious truth. And this is not
only a legitimate but a necessary duty of the
church. The church must have a systematic body
of teaching if it is to meet the intellectual re
quirements of believers. And it goes without
saying that Paul was a theological genius, and
that he had a very clear conception of the cognitive
aspect of beliefs. But this does not seem to have
been his immediate concern. What the age needed
was not so much a systematic theology, as an
explanation of the life and experience created
by the gospel. And while he did not overlook
the cognitive aspect of belief, his immediate con
cern was with its causal aspect.
I propose in the next two lectures to view cer
tain characteristic doctrines under a causal rather
than a cognitive aspect. Doctrines are undoubt
edly revelations of essential and objective truth;
but they are something more than this. Doctrines
are descriptions of function. The function of a
power is its characteristic mode of operation. The
Christian life is divinely originated, but its growth
depends in part upon the cooperation of man

THE RELIGION OF POWER
with God; and our ability to work intelligently
with God is conditioned by our knowledge of the
functions of the power of God. The more we know
of the habits and characteristic modes of that tre
mendous spiritual dynamic working in the indi
vidual experience, the greater is the benefit to be
derived from its activities.
The characteristic emphasis placed on Chris
tianity at the time when the inteUectual develop
ment of the church made doctrinal teaching neces
sary was that it was "the power of God unto sal
vation." It was essentially dynamic and creative.
Behind the Christian community was the experi
ence of the individual; and the pressing question
was : What is the function of the spiritual dynamic
in individual life? Paul's answer was by teaching
doctrines; doctrines are descriptions of function;
they interpret the causal aspect of Christianity.
The strength of the believer is determined by
the degree in which he understands the power
working in his experience. Knowledge of func
tion puts behind the sentiments and impulses of
rehgion a body of unchangeable conviction. By
thinking out the ultimate meaning of experience
in the light of its functional implications, the
believer comes to know the power of God in his
thought and life.
This, in my judgment, is the right way to teach

CHRISTIANITY AS RELIGION OF POWER 205
religious doctrines. Few individuals realise a need
for systematic statements of belief; but they are
anxious to understand the functional significance
of religious teaching in relation to the evolution
of a strong and stable faith; and this was Paul's
method of approach to the inteUectual require
ments of an age, which in many features of its
life and thought so strikingly resembles our own.

LECTURE VII
CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER

LECTURE VII
CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER
The quest for safe conduct that distinguished the
centuries immediately preceding the Christian era
was inspired by the desire to be in right relation
with God. Underlying the quest were three dif
ferent ideals of life. According to the Greek,
the ideal of life was completeness. Religion was
important, but there were other things, such as
philosophy, culture and worldly position, equally
important. The chief good was a composite of
material and spiritual advantages, realised in an
ideal political environment. According to the
Roman, the good man was the ideal citizen, the in
teUigent servant of the state. According to the
Jew, the good man was the just man, who lived
in harmony with the law of Moses.
These ideals of life were modified by the course
of events. The sifting processes of history brought
them to the same level, for with the coUapse of
the city-state the quest for safe conduct became
a task for the individual. In the period following
Alexander's conquests man's religious needs were
209

210 THE RELIGION OF POWER
separated from his poUtical relationships ; and the
outcome of the quest, whether manifested in a
ritual, ethical, or legal form, was to intensify the
need for a moral dynamic. In spite of racial
differences the ruling passion of Paul's age was
for moral direction, and the great Apostle met this
demand with the conception of Christianity as
the religion of power. The power of the new
religion was manifest in the resurrection of Jesus
and the creation of the Christian community. On
the one hand the moral ideal had appeared in a
Life, and on the other hand the gospel was effec
tive in transforming character. The virtue-mak
ing power which the age wanted was operating
in the domain of history. It was no longer an
ideal or a theory, but a cause, manifest in a series
of events.
NaturaUy the question would arise: How is this
power communicated to the individual? At the
outset the question was not acute, since most peo
ple were content with a simple and uncritical
faith. The pardoning love of Christ was suffi
cient to set man right with God; it was enough
that he could appeal to the fact of his experi
ence — his changed life — to prove the power of the
new religion.
But the question would become urgent so soon
as experience required interpretation. The proc-

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 211
lamation of the forgiveness of sins did undoubtedly
give peace to the believer, but it did not effectively
change his feelings about the past. The charac
teristic feeling of the age was that salvation had
to be earned. It was the product of human effort.
For centuries the race had been working at the
problem, and the quest for safe conduct had been
a long, laborious and, in the end, a discouraging
struggle to be in right relation with God. The
feeling that salvation had to be earned was as
common among gentiles as among Jews, and the
struggle had left its mark on the race. It was a
most difficult thing indeed to attain peace with
God ; so acute was the feeling at the beginning of
the Christian era that it tended to obscure the
originality of the new religion.
The first converts to Christianity were Jews
or proselytes; and although they came into the
new relation with God by means of faith and re
pentance, stUl their confidence in the new religion
was reinforced by a prior relation to Judaism. It
was generally felt that the only way to Christ
lay through the law of Moses.
But when gentiles began to press into the king
dom, particularly when the remarkable growth of
the church in Antioch of Syria finally convinced
men of the originality of the new religion, the
troublesome question concerning terms of admis-

212 THE RELIGION OF POWER
sion for gentiles became very acute. Were they
to be admitted on the simple terms of faith and
repentance, or must they first become disciples of
Moses? The matter was allowed to remain unsettled,
until a serious defection among the Galatian
churches made its adjustment an imperative neces
sity. The council of Jerusalem officially decreed
that gentiles were to be admitted on the simple
terms of faith and repentance. But Jewish Chris
tians of the stricter sort did not accept this de
cision as final, not only because they thought it
unfair to the old rehgion, but also because they
could not rid themselves of the inherited feeling
that man must do something to save himself; and
the further fact that this notion impressed the
Galatians shows how deeply rooted the feeling
was in the gentile mind. It seemed unreasonable
and impossible to accept the blessings of Chris
tianity on terms so simple.
The age was prepared to admit the inadequacy
of the old methods of salvation; its present un
rest was evidence of that, but it was still disposed
to insist that a man must do something to save
himself. Christianity had proclaimed peace with
God through the forgiveness of sins ; this was ac
cepted provisionally, but it could not rid man of

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 213
the feeling that so simple a programme should be
supplemented by something else.
The feeling that the Christian programme was
inadequate exposed believers to the syncretic ten
dency of the times. The age was sceptical of
simple things, and in love with complexity. The
more popular religions were composite; they had
been improved by the addition of desirable ele
ments taken from other cults: why then should
Christianity prove an exception? Greek, Oriental
and Jewish influences sought admission into the
Christian consciousness. They were all the more
dangerous because they were vague and inchoate,
and in the main friendly. They did not seek to
displace the new faith; they simply asked that
they be added to it for the sake of a better Chris
tianity. They sought to beguile the believer from
the simplicity that was in Christ.
Paul anticipates such questions as these in his
various letters. With the Corinthians he insists
that Christianity is not a philosophy but the re
ligion of power. With the Colossians he main
tains the great truth that Christ is the fulness
of God, and that Christians are complete in Him.
Christianity was sufficient for all human needs,
and was not obliged to seek assistance from out
side sources.
In spite of this, the feeling that man must do

214 THE RELIGION OF POWER
something to save himself made it difficult to
accept a religion of grace. Men would reason:
How can so great an issue as the soul's salvation
stand upon faith and repentance? Salvation had
come by the hearing of the gospel; faith had com
municated pardoning love and peace with God;
moreover it had imparted a dynamic character
to experience, but the old inherited feeling would
not down : Can any religion save without strenu
ous human effort?
This question, so characteristic of the times,
made a further interpretation of Christianity an
immediate necessity. It did not in the beginning
call for a systematic statement of Christian truth,
but it did require an explanation of the func
tional significance of the Christian dynamic in hu
man experience.
A function is a mode of action through which
a power fulfils its purpose. The demand for
further light on Christian experience was legiti
mate and Paul met it by teaching doctrines. Doc
trines are descriptions of function; they explain
how Christian power operates in individual ex
perience. In the Roman letter Paul declares that the
gospel of Christ is the power of God unto salva
tion, because therein is revealed a righteousness of

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 215
God.^ Righteousness is a very important word
and is used in two senses: as a description either
of the character of God, or of a status given to
man by God, In the first sense it belongs to a
cognitive series; in the second sense to a causal
series. The gospel is power because it reveals a status
which God gives to man through the redemptive
work of Christ. Righteousness does not refer to
man's conduct in this sense, but to his position in
the sight of the Most High God. It is a graciously
bestowed privilege whereby man is enabled to hold
himself free from the claims of his past. This
function of gospel power is called justification.
Justification is God's righting act. His adjust
ing power. It is the divine way of settling once
and for aU the question raised by the quest for
safe conduct. That quest was for a right rela
tion with God, and the gospel bestows this relation
through justifying faith. The gospel reveals the
fact that God has given man a status before Him
which past experience cannot invalidate. Behind
pardoning love is justifying grace. Justification
is the function of the Christian dynamic which
deals chiefly with man's past. Prof. William
James has reminded us that there are three kinds
of functions: productive, releasing, and transmis-
M:16-17.

216 THE RELIGION OF POWER
sive.^ We may apply these differences to the
conception of justification. Justification is the
productive function of the atoning work of Christ,
by which we mean that the status given the sinner
before God is caused by the atonement. Faith
is the releasing function of justification, by which
we mean that faith releases the power of justi
fication in individual experience. Peace is the
transmissive function of faith, by which we mean
that peace with ^ God is communicated through
faith in the righting power of God.
The conception of justification is here viewed,
not as one of a series of interdependent proposi
tions, but as a link in a chain of redemptive causes.
This beyond question was Paul's method of ap
proach to the problems raised by the growing ex
perience of the church. The believer wished to
know the implications of experience, chiefly, how
did the Christian dynamic function in relation to
the past? Could it suspend the inherited feeling
that man must do something to save himself? Had
the believer set out on a new quest, or had he
arrived at the goal of his hopes? Pardoning love
had undoubtedly given a kind of peace, but was it
real or fictitious? Was it based on fiat or historic
performance? If the resurrection of Jesus proved
the dynamic character of the new religion, what
^ "Human Immortality," pp. 13-14.

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 217
was its specific evidence of justifying power?
Paul's answer to this important question was that
behind the pardoning love of Christ which the
gospel proclaimed stood the justifying grace of
God, and behind justifying grace stood the great
historic act of the atonement,
A clear conception of what is meant by the
atonement of Christ is necessary if we are to un
derstand what is meant by justification. Now
there are theories and theories. Some theories
exist for the sake of phUosophic system ; and other
theories because they are needed to understand
the function of power, A theory of the atonement
necessary to comprehend justification is of this
latter kind. Just as a theory of electricity is re
quired to understand the functional habits of elec
tricity, so is a theory of the atoning work of
Christ required for a knowledge of its functional
significance. Justification is the function of
Christ's sacrificial death which has to do with one
of the vital problems of human history: how can
a man attain right status before God? Justifica
tion is God's righting act and is squarely based
on the historic death of the Saviour; a theory of
the atonement is therefore a prime necessity, if
we are to comprehend justification.
There are but two logical views of the atone
ment : one is known as the moral influence theory.

218 THE RELIGION OF POWER
the other as the theory of vicarious substitution.
The moral influence theory originated in the
fertUe brain of Abelard in the twelfth century;
and although it has been changed from time to
time to suit the popular mood, it is substantiaUy
the same now as then. "It views the death of
Christ rather under the category of revelation
than of atonement, as part of His prophetical
rather than His priestly office. It is the great
manifestation of the divine love, the pledge to
men of God's eternal readiness to forgive the re
turning sinner. The divine justice needs no other
satisfaction than the repentance and reformation
of the sinner." ^
There is some truth in this view. The preaching
of God's love has a powerful influence on sinful
natures, and is calculated to arouse feelings of re
gret and penitence. The simple story of the cross
has mightily moved the ages ; and if human nature
raised no deeper questions, that is if man could
hold his religion apart from his thoughts, and view
his past and present performances apart from the
criticism of conscience, it is possible he might con
tent himself with such a view.
But the experience of the Apostolic church
shows that a man cannot be content with an unin
terpreted faith. We are obliged to reckon with
" Stearns: "Present Day Theology," p. 388.

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 219
a growing inteUigence. We have already noticed
how the moral sense will turn round upon inherited
traditions and make demands which they are not
always prepared to grant; and the need which
led to the formulation of a doctrine of the atone
ment in the Apostolic church was aroused by the
gospel offer. The gospel offered peace with God
on terms of faith and repentance; in fact at the
outset it resembled in many ways a moral influ
ence. But so soon as the new experience came
under the scrutiny of a growing intelligence, the
question was at once asked: Is this proclamation
of peace and pardon a reality, or a fiction? Is it
preceptive only, or dynamic?
Growing Christians were compeUed to ask the
meaning of Christ's death, and it is an interesting
thing to observe that a moral influence theory of
the atonement never seems to have occurred to
them. It was impossible for those who had been
seeking salvation by the various strenuous ways
revealed in the quest for safe conduct, and who
had so keenly felt the need of a moral dynamic, to
base their faith in adjustment with God on an
influence, however beautiful or appealing.
Influence is not power. An influence may sug
gest an ideal or indicate ways and means, but it
cannot create. Let us admit that the gospel did
assure the sinner of God's pardon, if he would re-

220 THE RELIGION OF POWER
turn, the main question is stiU unanswered: How
are you going to get him to return? Where was
the power that could move him towards the divine
ideal? The old struggles for peace had convinced
man of his moral immobUity. He had ideals and
theories abundant, but was deficient in power, and
what is more important, he knew it. "To will is
present with me, but how to perform that which
is good, I find not. . . . O wretched man that I
am! who shaU deliver me from this dead body?"
Such thoughts are not confined to Scripture ; they
may be found in other forms in the writings of
Lucretius, Cicero, Virgil, Seneca or Marcus Au
relius. Is it conceivable that men who acutely
felt the need of a virtue-making power, and who
passionately craved the advent of a strong Per
sonality to adjust the age to its spiritual rela
tionships, could have been content with a theory
of that adjustment, which while it presented an
ideal of such purity as to strike terror into sensi
tive minds, stiU resolved its saving power into a
vague and sentimental influence?
It is a safe thing to say that Paul's age would
not have been interested in a moral influence the
ory of the atonement, first because it could throw
no light whatever on its present experience, and
secondly because it had no doctrine of justification
by faith. What the thoughtful man wanted was

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 221
not assurance of God's love: he had that; but he
wished to go behind the love and understand its
sanctions and historic roots. He wanted to know
what position the love of Christ gave him in the
face of the holiness of God? What was his status
before the Great White Throne? A theory which
invited him to be content with surface impressions
largely emotional in character could have no mean
ing for him. The view cannot function in expe
rience at its deepest level, because it has no justi
fying power. It interests but does not grip. It
stirs sentiments but fails to move the conscience.
The moral influence theory of the atonement is
popular because it allows considerable room for
pride, and does not offend man's natural impulses.
Superficially it attracts, but when it confronts the
realism of deep experience it loses all meaning,
because it appeals to the aesthetic rather than to
the moral nature. It presents Jesus in a very
amiable light, but "had Jesus been such an amiable
preacher of human world- wisdom," says Paulsen,
"His contemporaries would most likely not have
considered it necessary to nail Him to a cross ; the
amiable, proper and charming people who live and
let live, who understand the art of combining re
ligion with culture, who incline towards easy-going
congeniality, and enjoy the pleasures of the social
cup, have never been regarded as dangerous and

222 THE RELIGION OF POWER
nailed to crosses. If the Christianity of early
times had been what the interpreters of later ages
have now and then made it, the deadly enmity
which it aroused in the world would be absolutely
inconceivable." *
The theory is popular because it has no sting
in it. It repeats the Socratic error that knowl
edge is power, that sin is a mistake, and that
no man "errs of his own free wiU." But Paul's
age knew better. It was acutely aware of per
versity: "I see the good and approve it," said
Ovid, "but deliberately do the wrong." Men could
not believe in a love, however good, unless it was
based on historic perfonnances ; they could not ac
cept peace with God on a declaration of forgive
ness, because they felt the force of the inherited
tendency to do something, and were wilhng to re
ceive salvation by faith alone, only when assured
that behind pardoning love was justifying grace,
and behind justifying grace was the great historic
deed of the atonement.
And there is nothing amiable about the New
Testament doctrine of the atonement. It frankly
sets forth the death of Christ as the only possible
way of reconciliation with God. It leaves no
room for pride, has little patience with half-and-
half measures, and revamps no lost illusions. It
« "Ethics," p. 96.

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 223
was a reproach in Apostolic times and it is a re
proach now; but what does this matter if it be
true? What did it matter to men of Paul's age
what view the gospel took of human nature, if
it gave an undisputed status before God? This
tremendous doctrine put the Jew and gentile on
the same level. All had sinned and come short of
the glory of God, but nevertheless the gospel
opened the way for a real communion with the liv
ing God. It was the "new and hving way" to the
throne of the heavenly grace.
The New Testament doctrine of the atonement
is set forth in these words: "All have sinned and
come short of the glory of God, being justified
freely by his grace through redemption that is in
Christ Jesus, whom God hath set forth to be a
propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare
his righteousness for the remission of sins that are
past." " "It is impossible," says Sanday, "to get
rid from this passage of the double idea of sacri
fice, and of a sacrifice which is propitiatory. . . .
And further, when we ask, who is propitiated?
the answer can only be God. Nor is it possible to
separate this propitiation from the death of the
Son."«

"Romans iii:23-S6.
* Quoted by Stevens : "New Testament Theology," p.
413, note.

224 THE RELIGION OF POWER
The truth is, according to New Testament
teaching, let it be plainly and frankly said, that
Christ took the place of the sinner on the cross,
died in his stead, and His death resulted in a
propitiation of God. Without a real propitia
tion there can be no such thing as justification.
"It plainly lies with the Deity," says Mr. West
cott, "to dictate the terms and conditions on which
He will admit man within His covenant." ''
The death of Christ is conceived as a propitia
tion of God ; as having an effect upon the Divine
relation to man. How shall this change be un
derstood? Obviously most of the difficulties with
this doctrine come from a loose definition of the
idea of reconciliation. There are ways of illus
trating the doctrine as inconsistent with the moral
sense as they are with Scripture, But I think we
can speak of it in a simple way, without doing
violence to anything essential. Plainly there is a
deep mystery in the atoning work of Christ; how
the reconciling work was ultimately accomplished
we cannot say, since it belongs to the mystery of
the Divine nature ; but the New Testament makes
some things clear.
The word "reconciliation" is used in two senses
in Scripture: either as a change of nature, or as
a change of relation. The atonement of Christ
^ "St. Paul and Justification," p. 38.

CHRISTLANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 225
did not change God's nature, but it did change
His relation to man as a sinner.
The atonement did not change God's attitude
towards man. God does not love us because Christ
died for us; but Christ died for us because God
loved us. The atonement is the perfect revelation
of divine love: "God commendeth his love toward
us, in that, whUe we were yet sinners Christ died
for us." «
The atonement did not change God's attitude
towards sin. If the law of Moses condemned sin,
the death of Christ so far from setting it aside,
rather increased the divine condemnation. It was
the perfection of condemnation: "God sending
His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and
for sin, condemned sin in the flesh," ®
But the atonement did change God's relation
to the sinner. It enabled Him to be just, and
yet to become the justifier of the unjust. "For he
hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin;
that we might be made the righteousness of God
in him." ^° As such the atonement is God's con
sistent method of removing the barrier between
man and Himself; consistent at once with God's
* Romans v:8.
• Romans viii :3.
^''II Corinthians v:21.

226 THE RELIGION OF POWER
holy nature, and man's fundamental moral neces
sities. But the significance of the atonement is not
limited to a proclamation of Divine love; its spe
cific object is to provide for justification. Grace
provides a righting power; it puts behind the
offer of pardoning love an assured status before
God. From this point of view justification is the
productive function of the atonement ; it describes
the legitimate operation of atoning power within
the sphere of human experience. Pardon is not
suspended in an ineffective region of sentiment,
but rooted and grounded in an historic deed.
Justification is God's righting act, the final ad
justment of the human spirit to the demands of
its eternal relationships; it is God's act of recon
ciliation, effective unto the saving of souls because
it derives its power from the atoning work of
His Son,
But how is assurance of status to be gained?
How is the righting power of God communicated
to man? Paul's answer is by faith. Faith is the
releasing function of justification. But some one
may say: Grant the truth of your theory, is it
necessary for a believer to have a theory of the
atonement, in order to have peace with God?
May he not be content with a simple and un
critical faith in Jesus Christ? The answer is yes

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 227
and no. It is perfectly true that many do get
along without theories of religious truth; their
faith appears to require little or no theology ; stiU
this does not indicate the superiority of this type
of Christian. A faith without doctrines is a col
ourless faith, and may at any time become unsta
ble. Even if it be capable of sustaining itself in
the face of opposition, it has no power for propa
gating itself, simply because it has no ideas.
Ideas are the hooks of faith which stick into other
minds and take hold there often in spite of op
position. If one is wUling to remain a babe
in Christ, and depend on a favourable environ
ment for successful resistance of the friction of
this world, he may get along without theoretical
explanations of reUgion. But it ought to be said
that objections to religious doctrine often rise
from mental indolence or from a superficial ex
perience. And if one is to be a mature Christian,
sustaining himself in the face of opposition, and
propagating his faith in his own generation, he
must think out the functional implications of his
experience; he must go down to the roots and
grapple with religion's inspiring problems, and
the reason for this is a very practical one.
Any scheme of rehgion a thoughtful man ac
cepts must reckon with the conscience. Now the
conscience knows nothing of mercy, and makes

228 THE RELIGION OF POWER
short work of proclamations based on pardon
alone. When conscience sleeps it is content with
a moral influence, but when conscience awakes
it wiU demand a dynamic atoning deed. To for
give a sin does not remove its wrongfulness. The
question of right or wrong is in charge of the con
science. Now the target of pardoning love is the
heart, the emotional nature; but the target of
justification is the conscience, the moral nature.
Paul's age demanded a religion that could deal
with conscience. It would listen to preaching
that began with pardoning love, but it would
permanently yield to a religion only when it could
satisfy the imphcations of the moral nature. A
conviction of sin is necessary to an adequate com
prehension of Divine love; and it was a convic
tion of the sinfulness of sin that made Paul's age
go behind pardoning love to the deed of justifica
tion. The gentile felt the need of deliverance
from the power of evil. The feeling could not
suggest a remedy, but it was powerful enough to
inspire a desire for a deliverer, a Saviour. In
the meantime, however, it left man without ex
cuse. It filled him with fear and dread and unrest.
He saw punishments in his calamities and dreaded
what might happen after death. The age was
conscious of the need of a tremendous righting
power which could adjust it to its eternal rela-

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 229
tionships. And if this feeling of need was com
mon to gentiles it was equally so with the Jew.
For the Jew had the law of God, and in spite of
his professed security, he was keenly aware of the
inadequacy of his way of life. Paul tells us how
he felt about it in the seventh chapter of Romans.
The law had revealed the sinfulness of sin both in
its positive and negative aspects. "All had sinned
and come short of the glory of God." And if a
Jew felt thus before his law how much more
keenly would he feel it in the presence of the
White Purity which had come into the world and
condemned the ideal religious figure of the age in
the words: "Except your righteousness shall ex
ceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Phari
sees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom
of heaven." ^^ The law confronted man with a
debt he could not pay, it threatened him with a
penalty he could not bear, and set him a task
he could not essay. No assurance of Divine for
giveness could rid him of the feeling that he must
do something to save himself, except on the as
sumption that behind that assurance was an his
toric righting power. The age was sick of precep
tive moralities, and wanted power, and the only
thing that could square it with conscience was a
real justification, grounded on historic perform-
*^ Matthew v:20.

230 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ance. It ought to be easy to comprehend this.
But it may be asked: Can a man have peace
with God upon the assurance of pardoning love
alone? The answer is provisionally yes, perma
nently no. Suppose you borrow money from a
man and he deposits your note in a bank for col
lection. The note falls due and you cannot pay
it, so you go to the creditor and confess the debt,
admit that in spite of honest efforts you are un
able to meet it, and throw yourself on his mercy.
He forgives the debt and assures you of his friend
ship. Undoubtedly this relieves your mind for
the time being, but how about the bank? Your
plea will not be valid there so long as it holds your
note. The mere fact of the pardon of the debt
will not prevent a renewal of uneasiness, so you
retum to the friendly creditor, and he goes with
you to the bank, takes up the note and destroys
it in your presence. Your status with the bank is
at once altered. Your peace is secured because
the visible obligation has been destroyed. You
are forever free from the debt. Why? Because
the destruction of the note was a deed, while the
pardon of the debt was a word only. The word
of pardon was not effective until the obligation
had been cancelled.
Now the conscience is a bank, and it holds man's
notes for past transgressions. These notes are

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 231
sins. They are debts contracted in the past, but
they hold over man's head the obligation to reckon
with them in the future. Mere pardon will not
finaUy bestow peace of mind. What man needs
is the destruction of the obligation. He wants a
power to go with him before the conscience, and
make an end of the whole sad business. It was
the function of the Mosaic law to establish the fact
of debt, it is the business of the conscience to
enforce its collection, but it is the function of
justifying grace to cancel aU obligations and give
the debtor a status before God which the con
science cannot dispute. Justification not only re
moves the barrier between man and God, but also
between man and his conscience. Bunyan in the
allegory of the Holy War has beautifully illus
trated this truth, when Emmanuel on the recon
quest of Mansoul deprives conscience of his posi
tion as recorder, and makes him an under-secre-
tary of love. Justifying grace transforms con
science into a servant, and sets the believer free.
The Biblical word which describes this experi
ence is "peace." Peace is the transmissive func
tion of faith. It is the precise assurance of a
status before God, based on the historic deed of
the cross, which conscience cannot dispute. It is
not easy to break with the past. As poisonous
exhalations rise from a marsh and endanger

832 THE RELIGION OF POWER
health, so do thoughts of past transgressions
threaten the health of the soul. It is very diffi
cult to throw off the inherited tendency that one
must do something to be saved. Persistence of
this feeling means bondage. It enslaves the mind
and wastes the energy of the wiU in fruitless
works. The ancient world had learned the bitter
lesson; the more passionately it sought peace, the
more acutely conscious was it of the futility of
human effort. It was not in man's power to save
himself, but he could not abandon the quest. Paul
put the question for the old world in the words:
"O wretched man that I am: who shaU deliver
me from this dead body?" He saw and approved
the good, but power to perform that which was
right he found not. It was not in ritual, it was
not in ethical speculations, and it was not in
legal obedience of a revealed law. The service
of the law was the most burdensome of all be
cause it found sin in a state of suspended anima
tion, and left it acutely alive as an evil power
within the soul. But the glorious gospel pro
claimed deliverance, Christ was the end of the law
for righteousness unto every one that believed.
In Christ the law was abolished and a new right
eousness was revealed, a God given status which
none could dispute. The quest of the ages ended
at the foot of the Cross, because the atonement

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 233
made justification a reahty, and faith in Christ
released the power of God in the individual soul
and the issue was the enjoyment of peace that
passed all understanding.
This was a wonderful revelation, because it
meant the end of dead works and fruitless quests
to serve the living God in the freedom of the
spirit. To comprehend justification by faith wUl
determine whether our religious experience is to
be founded on a stable peace or on a new kind
of bondage. I remember an incident of my child
hood. An exposition was held in our town, and I
went to it in a rather unconventional fashion. I
entered it not by the door, but over the fence in
a surreptitious manner. But although it was filled
with many diverting things I could not enjoy
them, because I was continually haunted by fear
of detection. I was on the inside, but I had no
right to be there; and my pleasure was turned into
bondage. The joy that I had anticipated was
turned into trembling unto me. Some time after
I went again, but this time in company with my
father. We came by way of the door and entered
by ticket, and I gave myself unreservedly to the
enjoyment of the exposition. Many people enter
the treasure house of God without being sure of
their rights there. They are always looking back,
they are in fear of detection; the conscience like

THE RELIGION OF POWER
a policeman walks in the midst of the treasures
of grace, and they are afraid for their souls. Their
religion is a new kind of bondage. The old shadow
of Puritanism stiU falls athwart our modern lives.
Our religion is sour, unattractive, and funereal.
The reason for this is found in an undisciplined
conscience, and the cure for it is a fresh apprecia
tion of justifying grace. Justifying grace gives
us peace with God and peace with ourselves.
Peace becomes our man of war, and guards the
heart against all unhealthy tendencies and all
unspiritual experiences. Justification makes con
science the servant of love, and frees the spirit to
serve the living God.
It is impossible to overestimate the eagerness
with which earnest spirits received the Pauline
conception of justifying faith. The peace of God,
like a great river, made glad the city of Mansoul,
and by cleansing it of the poisonous influences of
the past, made it a temple of the Holy Ghost.
Wherever the doctrine was preached men seemed
to hear again the great voice of Jesus caUing:
"Come unto me, aU ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I wUl give you rest." Breaking with
an evil past and assured of the love and protec
tion of God, they were enabled to work out their
salvation and make their calling and election sure.
The atoning work of Christ enabled the believer

CHRISTIANITY AS A JUSTIFYING POWER 235
to pass through the portals of pardoning love
into the Throne Room of the Almighty, confident
that none could question his right to be there.
In this manner, Paul answered the first of the
questions raised by the growing experience of the
church. But the new freedom developed ques
tions concerning moral progress. Some were in
clined to believe that faith in Christ relieved them
of moral effort; while others were disposed to
doubt their salvation so long as sin remained in
their mortal bodies. Such questions made a
further elaboration of doctrine essential, and
opened the way for a consideration of the func
tion of the Christian dynamic in the growing life
of the church.

LECTURE VIII
CHRISTIANITY AS A CONSTEUCTI-VE POWER

LECTURE VIII
CHRISTIANITY AS A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER
It was the distinctive glory of Christianity that
it could say to the men of the first century: "You
are neither under the law of Moses, nor the law
of conscience, but through faith have been brought
under the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus."
Justifying faith suspended the age-long struggle
for salvation by personal effort, and this was what
none of the schemes hitherto devised had been able
to do. A religion of grace was taking the place
of religions of works, whose promises were founded
on historic performances. The immediate out
come of this experience was a new sense of free
dom. But how was the new freedom to be understood?
Did justifying faith make salvation possible apart
from a holy life? If salvation were a free gift,
was it necessary to strive after perfection? Chris
tianity was a law-free religion, and to many it
appeared to offer peace with God apart from an
ethical experience.
Such a misconception was easy for the Jew,
239

240 THE RELIGION OF POWER
because his religious sanctions were derived from
the law of Moses. The only religion that a Jew
could understand was a law-bound religion, and
it was difficult to resist the conviction that Chris
tianity was immoral simply because it set aside the
law. It seemed to remove aU legitimate restraints
from human nature and to encourage lawlessness
and self-indulgence.
Such a misconception was easy for the gentile,
because he was famUiar with non-moral religions.
Religions without moral sanctions were common
in the ancient world; the mystery cults then exer
cising a wide influence in the empire were of this
character. They promised blessedness on compU-
ance with ritual requirements. To submit to a
ceremonial purification admitted the devotee to
spiritual privileges without regard to his moral
character. Moreover a light-minded man will al
ways take religion on the easiest terms and seek
a maximum of benefit with a minimum expendi
ture of effort. The mystery religions attracted
many because they offered salvation on the easy
terms of ritual conformity. But these cults suffered
somewhat in popular estimation because of their
non-historical character. Cybele, Attis, and Isis
tumed out to be mythical figures without dynamic
authority. It was different with Christianity.
This religion was historic and productive of re-

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 241
suits in human experience through the Person
ality of Jesus, The age-long quest for a righting
power had successfully ended at the foot of the
cross, God's pardoning love was founded on an
historic deed of sacrifice which gave man an un
disputed status before God, It was easy for un
disciphned minds to suppose that faith in this
great sacrifice was sufficient. Having suspended
the old struggle for peace, it did not seem neces
sary to take up a new quest for holiness. That
such a view was current is apparent from the
sixth chapter of Romans: "Shall we continue in
sin that grace may abound? God forbid. How
shall we that are dead to sin, live any longer
therein?" But such a notion of Christian experience would
not satisfy a serious mind. How, for instance,
would it strike a Gk)d-f earing gentile? This man
had completely broken with native superstitions,
and he was not interested in mystery cults be
cause they could not satisfy his craving for moral
experience. He had turned to Jewish monothe
ism because it was the highest and best form of re
ligion that he knew. Still Judaism did not fully
satisfy him because it had no dynamic; and he
eagerly embraced Christianity, not only because
it offered peace with God, but imparted power to
hfe and conduct. It would not be a pleasant

242 THE RELIGION OF POWER
reflection to suppose that the new religion would
after aU prove as disappointing as a mystery
cult. If faith in Christ became an excuse for
lawlessness, how could it be the best religion?
Judaism, in spite of its limitations, was far better.
The truth is, a serious man, be he Jew or gentUe,
could not accept Christianity on these terms. No
religion can permanently hold the faith and loyalty
of a serious nature that does not satisfy the need
for ethical experience.
The demand, therefore, for a moral experience
made a further elaboration of Christian doctrine
essential. For no sooner was the believer satis
fied as to his status with God, than he wished to
know how faith met the problems of the present
life. For the believer had a new experience, un
questionably the product of gospel power. Faith
not only justified, but created desires and stimu
lated passions for righteousness. Still the new
experience required interpretation. Was it real
or fictitious? Granted that faith justified, did
it also renew the human disposition? Assuming
that the death of the Saviour had settled man's
past obligations, what had Christianity to say for
the present life? In other words could the new
religion set the enfranchised spirit to work in
the service of a moral ideal with a reasonable hope
of success?

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 243
It was such a need that prompted Paul to un
dertake a further development of doctrine. First
he lays down the characteristic Pauline proposition
that faith in Christ means union with Christ, The
Christian life was a unity; for the sake of clear
ness it might be viewed in various relations, but
in essence it was one. Justification dealt with
man's past; it removed the obligation to punish
ment through the atoning merits of the Saviour,
but justifying faith led to a closer union of the be
liever with the Lord. The faith which justified
also united the Christian with the renewing and
transforming energies of the Spirit. Forgiveness
was the gateway to a new experience. Even as
Christ died and rose again, so believers in Christ
die unto the old nature, and rise to newness of
life. The Christian was a new creature, because
he was a new creation.
In the last lecture we described faith as the
releasing function of justification, but it is some
thing more than this. Faith unites the soul to
Christ. To believe on Christ is to be in Christ.
Paul is leading up to the conception of spirit
ual growth, but he finds it necessary first to speak
of the connecting hnk between forgiveness and
growth. That link he caUs adoption,
Christ's redemptive work is comprehensively de
scribed as reconciliation. But reconcUiation means

244 THE RELIGION OF POWER
a change of status or a change of nature. Spirit
ual growth is a manifestation of a transformed
nature ; but adoption has to do with reconciliation
as status. Justification gives the sinner not only
the status of pardon, but also of acquittal of all
past transgressions through the merits of the aton
ing Saviour. But the notion of status may be en
larged so as to include the redeemed sinner in the
family of God. This enlarged status is called
adoption. Adoption is that expression of Divine grace
which gives the pardoned sinner the status of a
son in the Father's family. This conception had
a very definite meaning to the early Christian.
"The Pauline analogy was founded on one of the
most cherished of Roman institutions, fraught
with important and widely reaching results both
to the adopted person and the father who had re
ceived him into his family. A bond was formed
which even death could not sever. The adopter
could not, even if he would, evade the new rela
tionship, established by the ceremony of adoption
in the presence of the appointed witnesses. The
adopted person obtained the right to the family
inheritance, and so close was the relationship con
ceived to be, that the tie of blood was no stronger.
. . . The object of the Apostle was to awaken
men to the full realisation of their glorious privi-

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 245
leges, to enable them to comprehend the certainty,
the closeness and permanence of that bond which
united God to them as their Father, and them to
God as His sons; to assure his readers that the
covenant which God makes with every believer
in Christ Jesus is not a capricious undertaking,
hable to be broken at any moment, but a pledge to
be observed by Him in all its fulness, because
grounded on the eternal Truth and Justice." ^
Justification narrowly considered seemed to
leave the present experience detached from the
life of God; but adoption showed how man was
brought into the Divine family and given the
status of a son. And this met one of the deep
longings of the age. For centuries the world
had been trying to realise the Fatherhood of God,
and the notion had attained a definite meaning for
Stoic philosophy. The Stoic, to use Mr. Bevan's
phrase, believed in a "Friend behind phenomena."
Three centuries before Christ Cleanthes had con
fessed the Stoic belief :
"We are thy children, we alone, of all
On earth's broad ways that wander to and fro,
Bearing thine image wheresoe'er we go." "
Unquestionably the pagan world was dimly
aware of the truth, but it was obliged to feel after
* Muntz : "Rome, St. Paul and the Early Church," pp.
86-87. * Hymn to Zeus, Adam's translation.

246 THE RELIGION OF POWER
God in the darkness of superstition. It was not
able to realise it in any concrete way, because
there was no actual contact of God's grace with
human need.
But Christianity was the religion of revelation ;
it was the unfolding of the mystery of grace,
Christ's sacrificial death had revealed the Father
hood of God, and the intense longing for this
filial relation to God had been confirmed by the
Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit was the witness
to the adopting act. He bears witness with our
spirits that we are the children of God. Adoption
was a manifestation of divine love: "Behold what
manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us,
that we should be called the sons of God." ^ In
the Christian revelation, the great spirit of the
universe, the wished-for "Friend behind phe
nomena" became the God and Father of our Lord
and Saviour, Jesus Christ,
Justification and adoption are Unks in a chain
of redemptive causes which deal with man's status
before God: one acquits him of the guilt of sin,
the other admits him into the Divine family.
But the idea of status does not exhaust the
gift of love. There is also a vital change of the
human disposition. The believer realised that a
new power was functioning in life. He had been
^I John iii:l.

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 247
quickened with Christ and was alive to new rela
tionships. The works of the flesh were being elimi
nated and new desires were forming in the soul.
How was this experience to be understood?
What share had man in its development? Paul
answered this question with the doctrine of sanc
tification. Sanctification describes the construc
tive function of the Christian dynamic.
Back of growth is the mysterious experience of
regeneration. But Paul does not carefully formu
late this doctrine, because it was not needed. He
was dealing with a people who were tremendously
alive, and who were not so anxious to understand
how they had been born, as to know how to meet
the problems of the expanding hfe. This enabled
the Apostle to pass from a consideration of re
conciliation as a change of status, to reconcilia
tion as a change of nature.
Growth creates perplexities for serious minds
because it usually sharpens the sense of opposition.
Moral effort sooner or later reveals a schism within
the soul. There is a law in the mind and a law in
the members; there is conflict between the flesh
and the spirit.
Plato has described the conflict between flesh and
spirit in the myth of the charioteer and the winged
horses.* One horse is noble, pure and amenable
*See Dickinson: "Greek View of Life," pp. 146-149.

248 THE RELIGION OF POWER
to right reason; the other is earthly, sensual and
perverse, and the struggle to control creatures,
so diverse in disposition, makes up life's moral
experience. The ancients could discover no ade
quate method of reconciling these opposing forces.
With all his faith in the power of intelligence,
Aristotle is obliged to confess that there is a con
cupiscent part of the soul that is not subject to
reason. The thinking and especially the experi
ence of later ages made this point clear ; and Paul's
period was keenly aware of human perversity, and
equaUy lacking in power. How, then, would the
experience of growth impress a serious nature?
Assuming that the grace of God provided for
justification, did it also promise power for the
realisation of a holy life? Could Divine power
control and finally overcome the concupiscent part
of the soul? That question had to be answered,
since no religion can stand on justification alone;
it must also give power to lead a holy life. Could
Christianity do this?
For so soon as the believer was assured of his
status, he became aware of a new problem.
Contact with Christ sharpened the radical differ
ence between good and evil, and made man aware
of the tremendous power of the flesh, to resist and
even to defeat the holy aspirations of the newly
enfranchised spirit.

CHRISTLANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 249
Paul has a great deal to say of the warfare of
flesh and spirit. By flesh he does not mean the
material body, but that system of disorderly and
self-regarding desires which opposes the reign of
spirituality. The carnal mind is enmity against
God; it cannot be subject to the will of God, The
natural man is under the dominion of flesh, while
the spiritual man is under the dominion of spirit.
If the spirit is to triumph, the flesh must be put
to death. There must be a transformation of the
inner disposition. Although the Christian was
renewed in the inner life, the problem of growth
had to be faced. He must put on Christ in the
moral habit and disposition of the mind, and make
no provision for the flesh to fulfil its lawless de
sires. This was a splendid programme, but could it be
carried out? The plain fact confronted tlie be
Uever: contact with Christ intensified the reality
of the struggle with evil. The flesh lusted against
the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh, and no
compromise was possible. We have had occasion
in previous lectures to note the fact that the older
Stoics made no allowance for human imperfec
tion. They held that a man was either wholly
good or wholly bad. Their favorite illustration,
as Mr. Bevan has pointed out, was "that a man a
foot below the water is in a drowning condition

250 THE RELIGION OF POWER
just as much as a man a mile down," ® They ad
mitted that a perfect man was a rarity, but they
would make no concessions to imperfection, for
fear of impairing the moral ideal. Although later
Stoics tempered this hard doctrine, the feeling
stiU remained to torment earnest souls. It power
fully affected growing Christians. How was it
possible to believe in the soundness of one's salva
tion so long as sin remained in the mortal body?
The Orphics among the Greeks had settled the
question by saying that the body was the tomb of
the soul ; that matter was essentiaUy evil and that
the spirit could be delivered only by death. But
the Christian could not hold such a view. Evil
dwelt in the thoughts and disposition of the mind.
The higher a man aimed the more conscious was
he of the presence of sin in experience, not be
cause his sins increased in bulk, but because moral
effort increased the sensitiveness of the soul.
Mere status, then, however glorious, could not
meet a need like this. How could a Christian be
lieve his sins were forgiven, so long as evil in
fluenced his conduct?
This feeling made men doubt the adequacy of
Christianity, and exposed them to the temptations
current in that syncretic age. Many, in those
days, could not be satisfied with a simple religion;
° "Stoics and Skeptics," p. 71.

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 251
they were engaged in various improvements and
additions to current faiths, and cults borrowed
from each other with impunity. The satisfaction
of the devotee appeared to depend on the num
ber and variety of elements taken from other re
ligions. It was natural that Christians should
feel the force of this tendency. They would ask:
Is not something lacking in the gospel which may
be supplied from without? It was such a feeling
that tempted the Galatians to mix Moses with
Christ. The tendency was also present in the
church at Colossse, Some were inclined to adopt
the Orphic notion of the evil of matter; others
were interested in the worship of "elemental
spirits," and still others were disposed to practise
a false asceticism, borrowed for the most part
from the Jews ; and all were inclined to believe that
by the addition of one thing or another they
would get a better Christianity,
The tendency to supplement Christ's redemp
tive work from outside sources is a very stubborn
one. It is occasioned usually by the difficulty of
believing in a religion of grace rather than of
works. It is very difficult to follow the Christian
programme, when every advance sharpens the con
flict between flesh and spirit, without being
tempted to do something of a supplementary char
acter to sustain the meagre resources of faith.

252 THE RELIGION OF POWER
This feeling, so deeply rooted in human nature,
accounts for the power of old Jewish practices; it
explains the attraction of asceticism in the early
church; it gave Roman Catholicism great influ
ence in the Middle Ages, and is responsible in part
at least for the confusion in the mind of some theo
logians, concerning the relation of justification to
sanctification. This latter is a vicious mistake, for
it practically makes one's faith in justifying grace
dependent on one's opinion of moral progress, and
is utterly contrary to the Bibhcal view, as it is
destructive of peace,
Paul's answer to the whole contention was that
since the fulness of the Godhead dwelt in Christ,
Christians were complete in Him, It was impos
sible on the one hand to accept the antinomian con
tention that salvation by faith alone inevitably
led to lawlessness, since faith in Christ meant
union with the life and power of Christ. It was
equally impossible on the other hand to ignore
the plain fact that the new life was a life of strife.
It deepened the notion of sin and sharpened the
conflict between flesh and spirit, but the Chris
tian was assured of resources in Christ adequate
to meet all problems growing out of the new hfe
of holiness. It was folly then to go outside of
Christ, since His grace was sufficient for all prac
tical needs.

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 263
According to Paul, justification must be com
plete before sanctification can begin. They were
closely related but essentially distinct functions
of grace. Justification was an act, sanctification
was a work. In justification God was the sole
agent; in sanctification God and man worked to
gether. As Prof. Stearns puts it, "Justification
is the setting of the broken bone ; it brings the soul
into its true relation to God; it has sanctification
for its object. Sanctification is the healing, a
process wholly different and wholly distinct." ®
It is important to notice that while perfection
of character is the ultimate goal of sanctification,
it is not its immediate object. It is doubtful
whether in this life a man can form a true estimate
of perfection. There is danger in attempting to
do so, for fear of suspending the struggle without
which perfection is impossible. The immediate
object of sanctification is not perfection, but rea
sonable progress in the divine life. Its aim is not
the suspension of struggle, but the avoidance of
useless effort. The old effort after perfection was
to found salvation on the basis of human merit,
or attainment. This was the significance of the
quest for safe conduct. But this abortive effort
had been set aside by the coming of Christ, Faith
in the atoning mercy of the Saviour, by the grace
« "Present Day Theology," p. 447.

254 THE RELIGION OF POWER
of justification delivered the soul from past fears
and bondage, to serve the living God in the free
dom of the spirit. But this new liberty was not
deliverance from struggle, but only from the fruit
less and unavailing effort to lay a basis of salva
tion in human merits.
Paul vigorously describes the new experience.
Sometimes it is a race, at other times a boxing
match; still again it is called a battle, and in one
place it is a wrestling match with formidable pow
ers of darkness. It was always strenuous. The
growing Christian could never say that he had at
tained, or was already perfect. The best he could
say was that he was pressing on. In this warfare
our weapons were not carnal. Power to succeed
in this realm must come from spiritual relation
ships. The believer was encouraged by the further
revelation of sanctifying power issuing from the
free gift of salvation. The grace that bestowed
the status of a son was also given to ensure the ex
perience of a son by the progressive transforma
tion of man's nature. The active agent in this
new experience is the Holy Spirit of God; He
is the leader of the regenerate nature in its warfare
on the flesh. As many as are led by the Spirit of
God, they are the sons of God.
The growing Christian would be intensely in
terested in the teaching about the Holy Spirit,

CHRISTLANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 255
and Paul naturally devotes a great deal of at
tention to the subject. The Spirit is the witness
with our spirits that we are chUdren of God. He
is the earnest of the purchased possession ; the in
terpreter of the unexpressed longings of the grow
ing soul; the seal of the Father's love and the
guarantee of a completed salvation. He regen
erates, renews, quickens, guides and informs the
soul in its progress towards the divine ideal. Man's
co-operation is needed, but power issues from the
divine energy imparted through faith. The active
agent charged with the responsible task of de
veloping the divine experience in the life of man
is the "Holy" Spirit, the Spirit of righteousness
and of love. He is also the "Spirit of Christ,"
manifesting the same attitude and disposition
towards man as was experienced in Christ, As
such He was no stranger or outsider, but an active
participant in the great work of salvation.
We cannot overestimate the tremendous sig
nificance of this revelation for the first Christian
century. Belief in the activity of spirits was prac
tically universal in those days, but it was not al
ways an encouraging belief. There were many
reasons for the notion. For one thing it was
very old, and had been inherited by the Romans
from Greece and the Orient, It was especially
influential in the first century because of the grow-

^56 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ing belief even among pagans in the moral sig
nificance of God. When the conscience sleeps
it is easy to bring the gods down to the ordinary
level of human life and make them in man's like
ness; but when conscience awakes it turns round
on inherited beliefs and modifies them in the in
terest of a purer conception of Deity, As the idea
of God is moralised and spirituaUsed, He becomes
remote and inaccessible to man. The feeling of the
aloofness of God was common in the first century.
It was almost universally believed that any com
munication with Deity depended on mediators of
one sort or another. This led to the notion of
intermediate gods or elemental spirits, "Great
was the multitude of this heavenly host, inter
preters between God and man; 'thrice ten thou
sand are they upon the fruitful earth, immortal,
ministers of Zeus,' healers of the sick, revealers
of what is dark, aiding the craftsman, companions
of the wayfarer." "^ Plutarch said that it could
be proved "on the testimony of wise and ancient
witnesses that there were natures, as it were on the
frontiers of the gods and men, that admit mortal
passions and inevitable changes, whom we may
rightly, after the custom of our fathers, consider
to be daemons, and so calling them, worship
¦^ Dill : "Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius,"
pp. 429-430.

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 267
them." ® And Plutarch was stating the general
belief of the time. These daemons "serve two pur
poses in religious philosophy. They safeguard
the Absolute and the higher gods from contact
with matter, and they relieve the Author of Good
from responsibUity for evil. At the same time
they supply the means of that relation to the di
vine which is essential for man's higher life," ^
Opinion differed as to the nature of these in
termediate spirits. Some were of the same essence
as God Himself ; others had mixed natures, partly
divine and partly human, Plutarch said "that
they were godlike in power and inteUigence, but
human in liability to the passions engendered by
the flesh," '"
It was inevitable that such views .should de
velop into the notion of a tyranny of malignant
spirits, "tainted with the evil of the lower world,"
In order to reconcile the old myths with prevailing
ethical conceptions of deity, the doctrine of the
familiar spirit was devised. The gods were be
lieved to be good, but they were often as in the
case of Zeus misrepresented by their familiar
spirits. Such notions led, of course, to a spread of
* Quoted by Glover: "Conflict of Religions in the Early
Roman Empire," pp. 96-97.
» Glover: Op. Cit., p. 97.
"Quoted by Dill: Op. Cit., p. 431.

258 THE RELIGION OF POWER
superstition, to a dread of gods and daemons of
the most degrading influence. The favour of good
daemons could be gained by observing the ritual re
quirements of the mystery religions, but there was
no sure way of obtaining the good will of evil
daemons. This gross superstition roused the noble
scorn of Lucretius in the preceding century, but
the dread of elemental spirits was even more com
mon in Paul's time. The universe was filled with
capricious beings ; even the Most High God might
have a famihar spirit, capable of misrepresenting
Him. It is easy to imagine the eagerness of a people,
long familiar with the dread of elemental spirits,
in receiving the Pauline revelation of the Holy
Spirit. God Himself was present in the behever's
life. The Historic Christ had brought man into
living contact with the Lord of Glory, and the
Great Spirit of the Universe had come down from
His inaccessible heights to dwell in sympathetic
relation with the children of men.
The doctrine of the Holy Spirit as the active
agent in the growth of the Christian met the sec
ond pressing need of the times. The first need
Paul had met with the doctrine of justifying faith.
The second need was met with the assurance of
reasonable progress in the divine life, in spite of
indwelling sin and the prolonged struggle with

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 259
the flesh. But a third and final question would
be raised: What of the future? Is Christianity
capable of bringing man to the goal of his hopes?
Was there a stage beyond sanctification? God
had begun a good work in man, did He intend to
complete it?
This question was raised in part by the growth
of the Christian, and in part also by the increas
ing complications of life in this world.
The outstanding fact of the new experience was
the fact of dependence. The Christian knew that
his experience was an effect. He was what he
was by the grace of God. He was just as de
pendent on grace for progress in holiness as he
had been in the first instance upon pardoning love.
He could not boast of his spiritual attainment,
because the goal of perfection receded as he ap
proached it. It was a flying goal, and the best
he could say was that he was pressing on. But
sooner or later he had to face the question of at
tainment. Progress could not be indefinitely pro
longed: would he then reach the goal? He was
sure if he did, it would be by the grace of God.
This made him intensely anxious to know whether
there was a Divine plan comprehensive enough to
meet all requirements back of his faith and life.
He wanted a larger concept of religion; one that
would embrace the several aspects of experience.

260 THE RELIGION OF POWER
Paul had been revealing the several links in the
chain of redemptive causes. But the behever
wanted to see the whole chain, its beginning and
end. He saw justification, adoption and sancti
fication; was there not a further link of glorifica
tion still to be revealed? He asked this question
because his experience had reached the stage where
unity in the several processes of his hfe was essen
tial to abiding peace.
An additional influence in this direction was the
increasing complications of Ufe in this world.
Christians were beginning to attract the unfa
vourable attention of society. The profession
was becoming dangerous not only to leaders but
also to followers. The disciples were realising the
increasing cost of living with Christ. The early
Christians universally believed that Christ would
return during their lifetime, and their hopes at
the outset were fixed on this blessed expectation.
But as time passed it appeared as if they were
to be disappointed. Some were growing lax, others
had faUen away, and some were growing scep
tical and saying: "Where is the promise of his
coining? for since the fathers fell asleep, aU things
continue as they were from the beginning of the
creation." ^* Above all the menace of Nero's evil
reign was becoming portentous, and the future
"II Peter iii :4.

CHRISTLANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 261
held the promise of persecution and death for
many. It is interesting to note that the Roman Chris
tians did not suggest that Christ save them from
such a future. They were wilhng to endure hard
ship and even suffer death for Christ's sake. Un
doubtedly many who read Paul's great epistle
suffered under Nero. But they knew the weak
ness of the flesh, and had no confidence in them
selves. How would they behave in the flames?
What would be their attitude when they saw the
lions in the arena? How could they stand against
the opposition of the Roman world? They dare
not trust themselves, but could they trust God?
That depended on His plan for their life. Would
His grace hold them true as they passed through
the fires, and in spite of unworthiness bring them
to the goal of their hopes ?
That was an urgent question. Stoics like Seneca
tried to answer it with a conception of Provi
dence very like fatalism, but it was a hard old
creed, and few could abide it. But the God and
Father of Jesus Christ was not the rigid deity
of the Stoic phUosophy. He had loved them in
the past and He loved them in the present, but
would He love them unto the end? Was it not
natural then to ask for further explanations of
the Divine purpose that would enable them to be

THE RELIGION OF POWER
more than conquerors in the coming persecution?
This question was urgent because of the tragedy
of the Jewish nation. If God had a plan, had it
not been revealed in the history of the Jew? But
the law had failed to save the Jew, and his nation
had been rejected. Did this imply the failure of
God's plan, or was there something more to be
said? It was this need, issuing from the mature Chris
tian experience, and the complications of life that
prompted Paul to formulate the doctrine of the
Divine purpose. The very word "predestination"
bristles with difficulties, and it is unlikely that one
could answer all objections made to it. We must
frankly admit the presence of a deep mystery in
the ways of God with men. A philosophy of
Providence is impossible since the finite mind can
never fully comprehend the Infinite. But it is
evident to any one familiar with the relation of
Christian teaching to the life of those times, that
the doctrine of election was taught for a very
practical purpose. It was not meant for babes
in Christ, but for strong men. It would have
been an enigma to the Corinthians, but it was as
plain as a pike staff to the Romans, simply be
cause they had reached a stage where light on the
Divine purpose was essential to further progress.
The doctrine of election, so far from being a

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 263
perplexing mystery, is a plain and necessary ele
ment in spiritual education. It is a doctrine for
the maturer stages of faith, but if I am right in
accounting for the conditions which made the doc
trine essential, I think it can be shown to have
great utility for a growing intelligence, for it pre
pares the believer for successfully overcoming the
temptations which issue from the deeper phases of
Christian experience.
The doctrine of election is the revelation of
the plan behind the believer's life. It is the prin
ciple that co-ordinates the plan of salvation. It
is the final cause of redemption. In this book,
I have consistently maintained the causal signifi
cance of Christianity; I have asked you to consider
doctrine in part at least as descriptive of function.
If this be true, we may regard election as the ex
planation of the purpose that gives meaning and
cohesion to the Christian dynamic which functions
through faith in the interests of a complete salva
tion. Paul develops the discussion along several
lines. First he shows that the law and gospel
are not two different plans of salvation, but two
phases of one and the same plan. So far from
failing to fulfil its Divine mission, the law was a
complete success. It had accurately diagnosed
the world's spiritual malady, and by revealing the

264 THE RELIGION OF POWER
positive and negative aspects of sin, had established
a need for redemption. Furthermore, through
its types and symbols, it had efficiently served
as an attendance officer to bring the world to
Christ. Christ was the end of the law for right
eousness, to every one that believed. Paul knew
from his own experience that the law was efficient.
It had not failed ; what it had done was to estab
lish the fact that the race could be saved on no
other terms than those of free grace.
The law was given to a chosen nation ; that was
an advantage; but the covenant which God made
with the Jew was not based on the law but on the
agreement with Abraham. The Abrahamic cove
nant was based on faith rather than works, Israel
was elect unto certain privileges, but they did not
confer the blessing of a personal election. That
depended on other conditions entirely. The na
tion's faUure did not imply the failure of God's
plan; on the contrary, it proved, as Prof. Stevens
truly observes, that there was "an election within
the election." ^^
This more intimate phase of election was indi
cated by the caUing of the gentiles. It unfolded
the mystery of God, hitherto a Divine secret, but
now made manifest in the universality of the gos
pel offer; but within this general call, there was an
" "The Theology of the New Testament," p. 381.

CHRISTIANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 265
effectual calling. Mature Christians knew some
thing of this, for, says Paul, "We know that aU
things work together for good to them that love
God ; to them who are the called according to His
purpose." ^^ It was impossible to believe that God
would begin such an experience as they enjoyed,
and then aUow it to fail in the face of the very
complications that it raised.
From an assured position in experience Paul
proceeds to develop the doctrine of the Divine
purpose. Christians are predestinated to be con
formed to the likeness of Christ. The plan behind
the life is indicated in the successive links of a
causal chain: whom He called. He justified, whom
He justified. He sanctified, and whom He sanc
tified He will also glorify.^*
What more can we want than this? No doubt
there is still much to be said from the point of
view of the theologian, the seeker for a complete
system; but for the growing Christian whose aim
is to understand in some measure the implications
of his experience, nothing further than this is
needed, since this is about all Paul told the Ro
mans about it.
But some one will say: If you assert the effi
ciency of the Divine Will in all the processes of
** Romans viii :28.
^* Romans viii :30.

266 THE RELIGION OF POWER
salvation, do you not relieve the believer of moral
effort? The answer is plainly no, simply because
the only practical evidence of a Divine purpose in
individual life is reasonable progress towards holi
ness. But this progress need not be consciously
continuous. As a matter of fact, many do lose it
temporarily; they seem to fall from grace, but if
God begins a work of grace in man's soul. He wiU
perform it until the day of Jesus Christ. If a
child disobeys his father and falls down the steps,
he does not fall out of the house; because his body
is bruised, he does not cease to be his father's
child. And if it be objected. How about faUing
out of the window? my answer is that there are no
windows in this house; it opens only on the eternal
glories of that great upper world where God waits
the home coming of His children.
The mystery of the Divine purpose is the mys
tery of a love so wise and comprehensive as to
meet all the requirements of a growing experience,
and to give positive assurance that in spite of the
complications of this present evil world the be
liever shaU arrive at the goal of his hopes. Justi
fying faith is the title deed to salvation, and elec
tion is the abstract of that title, which traces our
right to it straight back to the source of all good.
"If God be for us, who can be against us?"

CHRISTLANITY A CONSTRUCTIVE POWER 267
writes the great Apostle, as he sees in vision those
earnest Roman faces. He knew the strain that
would shortly come on their faith; he knew the
mighty temptations to yield in the face of persecu
tion ; he knew how the arch fear would grip those
brave hearts when they saw the cords and the
stakes, the lions and the arena. These people
wanted assurance that they would not fail; they
passionately wished to endure without flinching
the last struggle with the world; and he knew
moreover that they were inteUigent enough to un
derstand his meaning : so he did not hesitate to tell
them that behind their experience, working
through aU the stages of the new life, was the
great purpose of God; and in words of immortal
beauty he gathers up the possibilities of the situa
tion and affirms a truth which reasonable faith
wiU confirm, that through aU the phases of our
earthly pilgrimage there is being realised an un
changeable plan, a plan grounded in love and sus
tained by a power adequate to fulfil its promises
and complete its undertakings.
The Christian life is rooted and grounded in
the Divine Energy. When God comes into a
man's hfe. He comes to stay. That life begins,
grows and ends in God ; and behind its hopes and
its fears, its longings and desires, stands the his-

268 THE RELIGION OF POWER
toric Personality of Jesus Christ, who lived and
died and rose again that He might deliver us from
this present evil world, and present us faultless in
the Throne Room of the Eternal God.

CONCLUSION

LECTURE IX
THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY

LECTURE IX
THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY
It is time to sum up our results. The study of the
background has shown the urgency of the religious
problem in the time when Christianity began its
westward movement; it has also indicated the kind
of religion the age was prepared to accept.
The desire for a right relation with God was
the distinctive need of the first Cliristian century;
and while the quest for safe conduct had sug
gested a moral ideal, it had been unable to furnish
power for its realisation. The moral passion of
the age was running far in advance of its con
scious capacities, and it was this that gave the
Apostles their peculiar opportunity, for Chris
tianity was the religion of power. Its power was
manifested in the resurrection of Jesus and the
creation of the Christian community; and when
the intelligence of the first Christians made a ra
tional interpretation of the power necessary, Paul
met the need by teaching doctrines. Doctrines are
descriptive of function; they show that God has
come into human history with a special redemp-
271

272 THE RELIGION OF POWER
tive purpose in view. Not only did Christianity
provide an answer to the original question of safe
conduct in its great doctrine of justifying faith,
but it also furnished assurance of reasonable prog
ress in holiness, and through the great conception
of electing love promised to bring the believer
to the goal of his hopes. The net result of the
Christian propaganda was to establish the new
religion on an historical basis in contact with the
growing inteUectual and spiritual requirements of
the age.
Undoubtedly Christianity had a very practical
significance for those early centuries. How great
it was may be inferred from Fowler's briUiant
study of Roman rehgious experience. Describing
the originality of the new religion, when compared
with competitive forces working in its early en
vironment, he says: "The love of Christ is the
entirely new power that has come into the world ;
not merely as a new type of morality, but as 'a
divine influence transfiguring human nature in a
universal love.' The passion of St. Paul's appeal
lies in the consecration of every detail of it by ref
erence to the life and death of his Master, and the
great contrast is for him not as with the Stoics,
between the universal law of nature and those who
rebel against it; not as with Lucretius, between
the blind victims of "religio" and the indefatigable

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 273
student of the rerum natura; not, as in the Mneid,
between the man who bows to the decrees of fate,
destiny, God, or whatever we choose to call it,
and the wilful rebel, victim of his own passions;
not, as in the Roman state and family, between
the man who performs religious duties, and the
man who wilfully neglects them — ^between pius and
impius; but between the universal law of love,
focussed and concentrated in the love of Christ,
and the sleep, the darkness, and the death of a
world that will not recognise it." ^
The contrast is not relative, but absolute. It
does not lie in the selection of one among several
equally avaUable methods of salvation; but in a
comparison of a series of efforts whose futUity was
clearly realised, and a dynamic, functioning in
history, and actually capable of transforming life
into the image of the Divine Master,
Admitting the truth of this contention, the ques
tion may be asked: What has this to do with the
modern world? Can we base our faith on the
historic Christ, or shall we expect a higher con
ception to develop? In other words, is Christian
ity final, or do we look for another religion?
This is an important question, and its answer
in part will depend on one's attitude towards re-
^ "The Religious Experience of the Roman People,"
p. 467.

274 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ligious experience. A man's attitude towards the
claims of Jesus Christ wUl have an important
bearing on the interpretation of the Christian tra
dition. There is an incommunicable element in
religious experience that determines one's view of
rehgious truth. The personal equation wiU often
take a leading part in historical interpretations.
Granting this, however, the question as to the
finality of Christianity has a meaning for the in
telhgence. It can be thought about, investigated,
and certain features of the problem will very likely
prove decisive. I believe that if one is disposed to
be a Christian, one may turn to the problem as
it lies in the field of history and reach a satis
factory conclusion on the main point; namely, that
Christianity in its historic significance proves it
self to be the final reUgion, and that we need look
for no higher, since none other is needed.
The truth of this proposition wiU become evi
dent if, after indicating what man's fundamental
religious needs are and showing that the success
of Christianity in the early centuries was due to
the fact that it adequately met those needs, it can
be proved that the modern man has not changed
in respect of his religious necessities, that he is
in no important aspect of experience different
from the men of past ages. If man's religious
needs are the same to-day as they were when

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 275
Christianity began its westward movement, and if
Christianity met the needs of the man of the first
century, there is no reason to suppose that it can
not meet the needs of the man of the twentieth
century. Our first inquiry then is to determine what man's
fundamental rehgious needs are. Why is man a
religious being? Why is it, that whether we view
him in a primitive aspect, or in a highly civilised
state, there are inevitable resemblances of spirit
ual desires and aspirations?
This question may be answered in two ways;
either by an analysis of the religious consciousness,
or by an interpretation of the religious conscious
ness as it manifests itself on the field of history.
This latter is the better way, and the value of our
study of the various phases of the quest for safe
conduct lies in the fact that the quest indicates
what man's spiritual requirements are. When
man's need of God is so urgent as to compel him
to seek right relations with Him, we may easily
discover the permanent elements of his reli^ous
consciousness. The quest for safe conduct indi
cates that these elements are four: First, a sense
of dependence on a higher power; second, a feel
ing of not being in right relation to this higher
power; third, a desire to overcome this feeling
by means of sacrifices and religious rites; and

276 THE RELIGION OF POWER
fourth, a feeling that nothing short of a human
life in God can adequately satisfy man's desire
for right relation, which tempts him to make God
in his own knage.
First there is present in religious experience
the sense of dependence on a higher power. It
does not matter whether the power is thought of
as a person, or impersonal force; whether it be
conceived under a polytheistic or monotheistic
form; the essential point is that the sense of de
pendence is back of every religious aspiration. It
was the sense of dependence that led primitive
man to make the gods in a human likeness, in
order that he might be at home in the world. It
was tbe sense of dependence that prompted the
primitive religious endeavour.
But religious effort develops moral experience,
and its ultimate effect is an increase of moral sen
sibihty that introduces a disturbing element into
the religious consciousness: a sense of not being
in right relation to the power manifest in nature.
This is not a sense of sin, or even of wrong doing,
but rather of dislocation and alienation. The sense
of dependence draws man towards God, but the
sense of alienation drives man from Him. It fills
him with a feeling of unrest and insecurity in the
presence of the mysterious Spirit who inhabits the
universe. He is no longer at home in the world.

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTLANITY 277
and he becomes aware of a need of getting through
it with credit. He becomes a seeker for safe con
duct. The original desire of primitive man for
God becomes clear and explicit; in other words
it seeks to find an effective way of getting into
right relation with God, and this develops a third
element in the religious consciousness.
As the moral sense turns round upon inherited
traditions it makes the problem of safe conduct
a personal one; it develops a need for effective
methods of propitiating the great Spirit of the
universe, and this feeling expresses itself in
sacrifices, rituals, efforts to make atonement — in
short, in historical manifestations of various kinds.
From this primitive passion for an effective re
lation with God came purifications, ethical strug
gles, and religious observances, aU of which sought
to answer the question: How can a man get right
with God? This passion was responsible for the
prodigal expenditure of time and life in the age
long endeavour to find peace with God, It was
back of the noblest ethical speculations of anti
quity ; but as the moral sense continued to develop,
the feeling of alienation increased; and the need
of a better knowledge of God developed a fourth
element in the religious consciousness: a passion
for a human life in God. This desire was not
the cause of polytheism, but it was undoubtedly

278 THE RELIGION OF POWER
a contributing influence. The notion of an ab
solute and infinite God was, as we have seen, a
very painful one, when unaided by a Divine rev
elation. It almost made the problem of right rela
tion insoluble, because it put God out of touch
with experience. It is easy then to understand
why primitive man broke up the idea of infinity
into a number of parts. By associating them for a
season with what was near, local and familiar, he
seemed to bring God closer to human need. The
tendency to make God in the human likeness was
the final outworking of the rehgious impulse; but
it was inevitable that the growing moral sense
should introduce a disturbing element into this re
lation in spite of intense efforts to the contrary,
Man was left in uncertainty, because there were
always unknown elements, and uncomprehended
relationships ; he seemed to dwell on the frontier of
an unseen world, and the human spirit, in the ab
sence of severe ethical restraints, and sometimes
in spite of them, was tempted to people this un
known region with the creations of its disor
dered imagination. It was a fruitful source of
superstition. The Greeks confessed this sense of
inadequacy in the Athenian altar to "Unknown
Gods." Lucretius regarded the whole movement
as an expression of degrading superstition; and
the first Christian century felt the potent speU

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 279
of the unknown in its fear of daemons and its
tyranny of elemental spirits.
But in spite of its vagaries, the passion was
the expression of spiritual need. Man needed to
find a human likeness in God, if his relation to
Him was to prove effective. It was a craving for
an incarnation, Man wanted a Deity whose ad
vent was not a chance visit, but a permanent com
ing into the experience and hfe of the world.
These four elements: the sense of dependence,
the sense of ahenation, the passion to atone for
wrongdoing, and the craving for a human ex
pression of Deity, make up the religious conscious
ness of mankind, and were strikingly expressed
in the quest for safe conduct, which was the dis
tinguishing feature of religious experience at the
time of the westward movement of Christianity.
The direct consequence of that age-long quest
was to intensify the need for a virtue-making
power, and to make the question of a right relation
with God paramount. The problem was how to
translate "gnosis" into "dunamis," knowledge into
power and precept into performance. The best
thinkers of the age agreed that human nature
could not furnish a moral dynamic. Lucretius
and Seneca would have accepted Paul's diagnosis :
"To wiU is present with me, but how to perform
that which is good, I find not." Man could not

280 THE RELIGION OF POWER
rise above this position, because he was more or
less aware that religious experience as a purely
naturalistic affair was in its final stage of evolu
tion. Any further improvement must come from
a fresh manifestation of God in human history.
Thoughtful men of Paul's age were keenly
aware of dependence but they had little confidence
in the familiar methods of adjusting the human
spirit to the requirements of the Eternal, And the
characteristic longing of the time was for an ap
pearance in historic form of a personal adjuster.
This feeling became acute in the last century of
the republic. It was stimulated by the failure
of the ancient political sanctions, and the outbreak
of anarchy and civil strife developed a passion
for a strong man who could set the world right.
This passion for a personal force finally took the
form of the worship of the reigning Emperor ; but
its intensity is apparent in VirgU's Messianic
eclogue. The monotheistic drift of the times
tended to give a spiritual character to this as
piration. Men were looking for "the StiU, Strong
Man of the soul's need." That is why Paul's
age was interested in a religion of power.
How then did Christianity adjust itself to the
requirements of the religious consciousness? The
uppermost need of the times was for a righting
power with God. This is clear from that check-

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 281
ered history of human experience, that ceaseless
conflict of moral passion and human perversity,
so impressively described in the literature of the
period. This need made a religion of redemption
desirable above everything else. Man wanted a
healer and a Saviour, rather than a diagnostician
and a reformer. Above all he wanted assurance
that God Himself had come in direct contact with
human need. Nothing short of an historic mani
festation could satisfy the desire for a human hfe
in God. Man did not want a chance visit; he
wanted God to come to stay. What then had
Christianity to say to this imperious need?
If we have given a just account of the elements
in man's religious consciousness, it ought not to
be difficult to show how adequately the new re
ligion satisfied them.
In the first place the need for a conception of
God on Whom one might depend was met by the
revelation of Divine Fatherhood, For centuries
men had been trying to formulate this doctrine;
the Stoics were especially zealous in this direction,
but they could never be assured of it. What they
really wanted was a conception of fatherhood
based on redemption rather than on providence,
and this, speculation could not furnish since an
historic answer was required. No phUosophic
theory of God can satisfy human need; that can

282 THE RELIGION OF POWER
be met only by an historical revelation: an actual
manifestation in human experience, and this was
precisely what the Christian gospel offered. It
revealed Divine Fatherhood based on redemptive
power and sanctioned by historic performance.
And this glorious revelation was sustained at every
point by the dynamic Personality of Jesus Christ.
The great Spirit of the Universe, the fundamental
parent source, was manifested as the God and
Father of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Christ's manifestation was the historic proof of the
Divine love. His Presence was evidence of the
fact that God was approachable and trustworthy.
The revelation of Fatherhood through Christ
brought out the second and third features of
Christianity in respect of man's fundamental re
ligious needs. On the one hand the gospel ex
plained the nature of the world's trouble; on the
other hand it provided a way of reconciliation.
The Christian doctrine of sin properly diag
nosed the world's spiritual distress, yet so far
from producing discouragement, as lesser investi
gations usually did, it always made the diagnosis
in connection with the offer of pardon. The sacri
ficial death of the Saviour was the basis for faith
in the righting power of God. Salvation was not
suspended on a bare word of forgiveness, but was
niade as reaUstic in its redemptive aspect, as was

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 283
Khe sense of sin and need ; because behind pardon
ing love was the historic deed of the cross, and
the issue of this was a justifying grace which gave
the sinner a status with the Most High God which
none could dispute. The cross of Christ forever
settled the question of adjustment. It was the
end of the quest for safe conduct.
But God's grace did something more than this.
Not only did it justify the sinner but it also
adopted him into the Divine family; and through
the renewing and transforming energies of the
Holy Spirit made progress in holiness possible,
even in the face of the opposition of the fiesh, and
the increasing complications of life. And back of
the several stages of this experience was the
Divine purpose, which convinced man that God
had come into human Ufe to stay.
And this satisfied the fourth element of spiritual
desire, namely the hunger for a human life in
God, The incarnation of God in Christ proved
the truth of the gospel; it was evidence that the
Etemal God had come into man's life as an abid
ing power; and the experience of the first cen
tury, the creation of the Christian community —
the purity of its hfe and fidelity of its testimony
under manifold trials and temptations — shows bet
ter than anjrthing in that age, the effectiveness of
the new rehgion, Christianity began in history.

284 THE RELIGION OF POWER
it made history, and it promised historic fruits
in the future. AU that had been dimly discerned
or consciously realised of human need in the age
long quest for safe conduct was adequately ful
fiUed in Jesus Christ. The coming of the Saviour
was a fresh beginning in the history of the race.
Christ is related to man's spiritual needs as food
is to appetite. Truly He is the bread of life, AU
that was needed to estabish a new life, or a new
creation as Paul caUed it, was to bring man's
spiritual appetites into relation with Jesus, This
was accomphshed in the first century, and de
veloped an experience which neither the demands
of intelhgence nor the growing opposition of the
world could falsify or destroy. So far then as
the first century was concerned, viewed as having
desires and passions that were common to pre
ceding centuries, Christianity was adequate, and
as such was the final rehgion.
And it is the final religion for us, unless it can
be shown that the spiritual needs of mankind have
changed since those days. If the religion of the
New Testament was adequate for the first cen
tury, it is adequate for the twentieth century, un
less it can be proved that man's religious requu'e-
ments have been altered by the progress of civi
hsation. There is a general impression manifest in

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTLANITY 285
modern opinion and behaviour that would lead
one to suppose that man's spiritual requirements
are different from those of the past ages ; and that
if it cannot be maintained that the modem man has
outgrown Christianity, at least it can be said that
he can afford to reject or modify much that was
of value to past centuries. Two things, however,
must be distinguished: The attitude towards the
fundamental historical significance of Christianity
is one thing; the attitude towards theological in
terpretations and systems of later centuries is
quite another thing. Every thoughtful man must
interpret truth in terms that he can understand.
Every age has its own way of thinking about ulti
mate questions; and the disposition to think of
Christianity in present day concepts need not
necessarily lead to the rejection of, or indifference
to, fundamental historical revelations. Few men
are capable of holding a complete system of re
ligious truth; the best most of them can do is to
have a few first class convictions on essential
points ; and assuredly we cannot make the under
standing and acceptance of great theological sys
tems the condition of a valid faith in the historic
facts of Christianity.
But unfortunately the modern man imagines
that because he can neither understand nor hold
complete and systematic views of rehgion, he must

286 THE RELIGION OF POWER
necessarUy reject or be indifferent to the funda
mental historic significance of Christianity as it
is revealed in the New Testament. He becomes a
religious impressionist, selecting what he likes and
rejecting what he dishkes, and justifies this course,
when he thinks of it at all, on the ground that some
how he has attained to such a pitch of develop
ment that he no longer needs the stabihsing influ
ence of the great past; and this tendency is the
result of the pecuhar temperament of the modem
world. For the past four hundred years the world has
been steadily drifting away from a spiritual view
of Ufe. The renaissance has been the decisive
factor in modem civilisation. The revival of learn
ing has had a larger influence on modem opinion
than the Protestant reformation; in fact the union
of the Protestant principle of the right of private
judgment with the freedom of the renaissance is
responsible for present day indifference to all
forms of authority; for the popular contempt of
the great past, and particularly for the vitiated
notion of truth which identifies reality with con
sequences, and makes every man the arbiter of
his own destiny. The unregulated individualism
of the modern world is a symptom of a deeper
thing — of an altered conception of values.
This altered conception of values is directly

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTLANITY 287
traceable to the age of humanism. The renais
sance was the rebirth of man. It was man's fresh
discovery of himself, it was also his fresh discovery
of this world. The past centuries had for the
most part been Grod-centred ; succeeding centuries
have very largely been man-centred. Religion was
the all but exclusive interest of the world before
the revival of learning; it cannot be maintained
that it has been the predominant interest since.
Before the renaissance man's chief concern was
safe conduct. He did not feel altogether comfort
able in this world; there were elements in his ex
perience that reminded him that he was a stranger
and a pilgrim, and the interests of the soul were
paramount. Since the renaissance man has suc
ceeded in making himself fairly weU at home in
this world. Prior to the revival of learning man
was dominated by the Hebrew ideal of rehgious
exclusiveness: religion was his chief concern, and
his business not so much to be at home in the
world as to get through it with credit; the era
since the renaissance has been dominated by the
Greek spirit of humanism. In the former case the
ideal of the chief good was one and simple : to
enjoy the favour of God was the supreme good;
in the latter case the ideal of the chief good is
once more composite. Religion was still impor
tant, but other things such as science, art, litera-

288 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ture, phUosophy, poUtics, worldly position, in one
word civihsation, were equally important. In the
first instance the world was dominated by the
Hebrew ideal of the safe life; in the second in
stance by the Greek ideal of the complete life.
The element of wonder which in past ages used
to Uluminate the religious experience, has for more
than four hundred years increasingly centred it
self on man: on his doings and misdoings, his
inventions and discoveries; his achievements and
attainments; until it may be said of the modern
what Carlyle said of the Greek, that "he is far
more at home in Zion than he has any right to
be." The modem man has become so accustomed to
the development and enjoyment of the material
estate that he has forgotten his real relation to it.
He is in reality a tenant, but he acts as if he owned
it. His tenancy is limited at that, and in spite
of his deep satisfaction with this present world,
he is just as much a stranger and pilgrim as were
his ancestors, only he does not know it — yet. To
one who takes a long view of life there is some
thing profoundly pathetic in the present day com
placency. One hundred years hence all that will
be left of this proud complex of material posses
sion and restless desire, so far as we are concerned,

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 289
wUl be a number of spiritual entities we call souls
face to face with the etemal God.
The present age differs in many important par
ticulars from past ages, but the difference is not
so great as some suppose. In science and inven
tion, in the exploitation and development of the
material estate, and in the cultivation of its pro
ductive resources the age excels all past times.
But it cannot be maintained that our intellectual
and moral progress has kept pace with material
development. Our distinctive achievements be
long to the externals of life ; they do not materially
alter the inner constitution of mankind. The
things that make for the cultivation of the mind
and spirit are inlierited from the past. We stUl
go to Greece for the best philosophy; to Rome for
our laws, and to the renaissance for our artistic
and literary ideals; and apart from scientific and
material achievements, everything we have of re
ligion, culture, and civilisation came from the past.
The modem world is permy-wise-and-pound-fool-
ish. It ranks the achievements of civilisation above
the transforming power of true religion, because
its interest is chiefly in this world. But civUisa-
tion is not the same thing as progress. Civilisa
tion deals with the externals of life, but no more
alters the inner constitution of human nature than
clothes can transform character. Still the modern

290 THE RELIGION OF POWER
man imagines that because he is successful in the
control of material forces, he must have outgrown
the needs of past ages; and nowhere is this delu
sion more common than in current opinions on
religion. Socrates used to say of the craftsmen of his
day that "they did as a rule know something
about their own trades, but unfortunately on the
strength of this bit of knowledge, they fancied that
they knew a great many other things of which
they were ignorant, such, for instance, as how to
govern an empire." ^ And many a modem thinks
that because he can make a tin can better than his
neighbour, he is capable of settling the affairs of
the universe. The church today is suffering from
lay exploitation ; from the irresponsible attentions
of many whose only claim to notice is that they
have made a success in a material direction. Such
men never suspect their fallibility; neither do they
question their attitude towards religion. They act
as if somehow their fundamental spiritual needs
were different from those of past ages, and en
deavour to begin the religious experience de novo,
without the regulative influence of the great past.
The age is suffering from what Hugh Black caUs
"unregulated idealism," It is passionate, hopeful,
^Burnet: "Greek Philosophy from Thales to Plato,"
p. 136.

THE FINALITY OP CHRISTIANITY 291
enthusiastic — ^fine qualities in any age; but it is
singularly lacking in straightforward common
sense views of human nature. This peculiar tem
perament usuaUy issues in a demand, if not for a
new religion, at least for a Christianity modified to
suit the requirements of an augmented sense of
personal importance. The old-fashioned man was
content to remain subordinate to God; the man of
the present day desires an equal partnership. With
one rehgion means the service of God by man;
with the other the service of man by God. And
the difference at bottom is one of values. One
derives his notion of value from his relation to
God; the other values God in relation to human
enterprises. But there is another side to this question. Pres
ent day society is becoming aware of instability
in spiritual matters. The century that has excelled
past ages in the realisation of material desires,
is distinguished by a soul discomfort that is al
most as acute as that of the first century. There
is a feeling of unrest abroad. The discontents of
today are not those of poverty but of prosperity.
The discontents of prosperity are spiritual. Many
are becoming aware of the futUity of success, of
the emptiness of material possessions; full barns
do not always make peaceful minds ; and there is
a soul hunger abroad which nothing tangible

292 THE RELIGION OF POWER
seems to satisfy. The truth is the modern world
is beginning to feel the need for safe conduct, A
dim sense of a pilgrimage is coming in to disturb
material contentment, and the modern man is not
so much at home in the world as he used to be.
This unrest, offspring of spiritual distress, al
though vague and inchoate, is still insistent in its
attitude towards certain things. For many years
the modem man has been very impatient with
theology; it is now evident that he is beginning to
be dissatisfied with philosophy; else how account
for the popularity of such anti-inteUectual notions
as those of Eucken, Bergson and William James?
How shall we explain the vogue of conceptions
which set aside the intellect in favour of blind in
stinct or make the sole test of truth a conformity
with immediate desires, except on the assumption
that the modern man is beginning to realise the
need for peace, and is in a special hurry to get it?
And in the wild riot of religious congresses,
mass movements, sociological pilgrimages, vice
crusades and revivals which have distinguished the
modern world in recent years, two things are clear:
the modem man is very indifferent to guiding
principles, and tremendously in love with power.
The religious experience of the average man is
for the most part made up of impressions and
impulses, more or less influenced by mass move-

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 293
ments, the meaning of which he does not under
stand, simply because he will not take the time to
think them out. Up to recent times he did not
believe it necessary; but signs are not wanting to
show that he is beginning to think seriously about
them. He is as impatient as ever with abstract
explanations, but he would like plain answers to
such questions as God, the soul and immortality;
and in so far as he is conscious of having definite
needs, he would like to know something of Jesus
Christ and the way of salvation. In the main he
lacks convictions, but at least he knows the need
and the desirability of power.
The want of power in the higher phases of ex
perience is the most characteristic sign of the
times, Man's conspicuous successes in a material
direction have served to convince him of the lack
of power in the domain of the spirit. He sees
power functioning in visible efficiency and in
world civilisation. It is the magic word in busi
ness. And he demands it in religion because it
is in spiritual matters that he feels the lack of it.
He often looks for it in the wrong place; he is
more interested in quantitative manifestations than
in invisible and spiritual expressions. Still the
impressive feature of the present situation is that
many are in quest of spiritual power: some from
egoistic and others from altruistic motives.

294 THE RELIGION OF POWER
The egoistic manifestation is seen in the syn
cretic tendency which mixes historical Christianity
with other elements: such for example as Chris
tian Science and the New Thought cults. Man's
complex needs tempt him to look for complex
remedies. As much as he desires simplicity he
finds it difficult to trust it in the religious world.
This is a revival in a somewhat different form of
the old ascetic impulse. In ancient times many
sought to escape the opposition of the world by
selfish seclusion, "far from the madding crowd";
in these days many try to escape the reality of
life, by fleeing to these syncretic cults, and by
surrounding themselves with a cloud of misty con
ceptions, think themselves free of the world's dis
tress. But this is a passing phase. There is
no enduring power in the unreality of mental an
aesthesia. No religious enterprise founded on sel
fishness can last, and when conscience awakes it
will make short work of these futile delusions.
The altruistic quest for power is manifest in
the social passion of the time. This is a noble
enterprise, inspired by a desire to humanise social
relations and moralise the forces that are respon
sible for much of present day misery. So far
from being selfish, the social passion is the expres
sion of self-sacrifice, and is worthy of all com
mendation. Only it frequently makes the mistake

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTLANITY 295
of dealing with effects rather than causes; is too
much interested in a study of symptoms and not
enough concerned with remedies. Undoubtedly
the social passion is a by-product of Christianity,
but at present it has aU the defects of a movement
led by novices, rich in idealism, but poor in ideas ;
and serious minds are beginning to realise that
there is something wrong with the social pro
gramme. In spite of the best intentions it re
mains a programme; it lacks power, and many
are becoming aware of the need of a personal
relation to Jesus Christ, as the sole condition of
success in the social enterprise. The social needs
of the age offer a very fruitful field for work,
but the social passion is not a dynamic. That
must be looked for in another region entirely.
Where shall man look for power? What
can give him a dynamic relationship with the eter
nal God? Obviously he cannot hope to get it
from modem phUosophy, for apart from such
frankly anti-intellectual attempts as those of Berg
son and Eucken, there is little left but speculations
concerning the problem of knowledge, and the
capacities or limitations of the mind. Present day
philosophy rarely touches the problem of reality,
save in the interests of an unstable materialism.
And even though it attempt to deal with reality

296 THE RELIGION OF POWER
in a spiritual way, it is never concrete; it is always
above the comprehension of the plain man.
And if one tum to ancient systems, which, of
course, means Greek phUosophy, one will learn as
Burnet truly observes that "Greek philosophy is
based on the faith that reality is divine, and that
the one thing needful is for the soul, which is akin
to the divine, to enter into communion with it. It
was in truth an effort to satisfy what we caU the
reUgious instinct." ^ In other words Greek phi
losophy wUl teach us that our needs are spiritual,
but the fact that the quest for safe conduct led
into a blind aUey is a demonstration of the futihty
of philosophy to satisfy them. Philosophy is a
good mental disciphne but it cannot set us right
on such a question; its best service is to convince
us that we have gone wrong. Philosophy is a
barometer, and man needs a compass. It can wam
us of weather changes, but it cannot direct our
course. The Greeks went as far as possible in
the direction of God; modem philosophy has not
advanced a step beyond them; and it is probably
too late in the day to expect any help from this
source. One can get even less help from science, for
science is exclusively interested in phenomena;
it has no jurisdiction over the religious aspect of
= Op. Cit., p. 12.

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 297
life, because it cannot enter, as science, into the
noumenal world. At best we must agree with
Paulsen when he says that "whatever temple
science may buUd there will always need to be
hard by a Gothic chapel for wounded souls." *
Man's wounded spirit is in quest of this Gothic
chapel. He wUl not find it in the domain of
science; neither wiU he long trust himself to the
half-and-half schemes that go by the name of
"vitalism," "creative evolution," or "pragmatism" ;
and there seems nothing left but to re-examine his
fundamental spiritual requirements and see if
after all he cannot find an adequate solution in
historic Christianity,
The rehgious needs of the modern man differ
in no important particular from those of past
generations. Under all the mutations of life and
variations of culture he remains just man. There
has been no essential change in the inner constitu
tion of man. He has the same imperious sense of
dependence on the power manifest in the universe ;
the same feeling of not being in right relation to
this power; the same dominant passion to find a
righting power in some form of ethical struggle,
and the same intense longing for a human life in
God, which characterised past ages. If we frankly
admit these things we shall be able to see how
* "Ethics," p. 162.

298 THE RELIGION OF POWER
man's fundamental religious needs are satisfied
by the gospel of Jesus Christ.
The modern passion for power in life ought to
enable us to understand the originahty of Chris
tianity. It is the religion of power, of historic
events and spiritual performances, because it re
veals the truth that God Himself has entered
man's experience with a special redemptive pur
pose in view. Jesus Christ is a supernatural
Person, whose power is shown in the creation of
a new life and the evolution of a community of
representative persons; and this power, working
through the gospel, becomes intelligible when we
understand some of its functions. Herein lies, I
think, the immediate significance of Christian doc
trine. Undoubtedly the doctrines of Christianity
are revelations of objective truth, but they are
also descriptions of function ; they tell us how the
divine power is working in individual experience.
What is needed is a better understanding of
the functional significance of Christian power.
How does the power of Christ connect with hu
man desire? The connection is made by faith,
Christianity is the religion of grace, because it
suspends the futile struggle to attain salvation on
the basis of human merit and freely bestows it
through the merits of Jesus Christ, The gift of
salvation is communicated to the individual

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 299
through faith. Where there is faith there is
power. Faith is the whole nature of man coming
into contact with the whole nature of God. Faith
in Christ means union with the life and power of
Christ. There are three elements in it.
First there is the element of intellectual recep
tivity: a willingness to assent to religious truth
on testimony of others. Of course we are obliged
to receive our information concerning the Saviour
from others. In part it comes from the revela
tion of the New Testament, and in part from the
force imparted to this revelation by the life and
example of Christians. The facts of Christianity
are of such a nature as powerfuUy to impress a
receptive mind with their truth and importance.
But all these facts centre in a Person. The
facts and truths of religion exist in order to the
revelation of a Personal Saviour; and from intel
lectual receptivity there develops the disposition
to trust oneself to the power of Jesus Christ. It
is impossible to contemplate His perfect life, to
consider the unique character of His moral con
sciousness, and, above all, to open the soul to the
healing power of His sacrificial death, without
feeling that here in human history is the end of all
spiritual quests. The sense of alienation from
God, the feeling of confusion about our relations
to the Infinite and Eternal, end with our accept-

300 THE RELIGION OF POWER
ance of Jesus Christ. We love persons, we trust
persons, and we believe in persons. Christianity
is the religion of a Person, and trust is the putting
of the life with all its past, present and future
needs into the hands of the Son of God.
But there inevitably arises from the disposition
to trust a third element, a wUlingness to accept
the authority of Christ as the law of life and con
duct. Faith is the consent of the wiU to Christ
as Master and Lord. It is the deliberate accept
ance of His personal dominion over life; and the
natural expression, of course, is obedience. The
man of faith does not stop with imitating Christ;
he obeys Him, and he believes in His authority
for the sake of those aspects of His personahty,
which man cannot imitate.
These elements of belief, trust and obedience
are always present in the act of faith; but they
are not necessarily distinct in operation. Faith
itself is one and simple; it unites man's fundamen
tal needs to the purpose of God in Christ in such
a way as to make the divine power effective in the
individual experience.
And it is from this point of view that we can
realise the finahty of Christianity. Man con
sciously or unconsciously believes in power; the
modern world appreciates power in all directions,
notably in the spiritual realm. But power is

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 301
causal; it works in history and produces events.
The supreme evidence of divine power in this
world lies in the historic significance of Jesus
Christ ; that power is communicated through faith
in the gospel, and works itself out in vivid expres
sions of peace, purity and freedom in individual
Ufe. What more then can we want of finality than
this? If our needs are the same as those of past
ages, and the gospel is the same historically, what
more can we require than a revival of faith in this
historic dynamic?
The supreme need of the time is a disposition
to believe in Jesus Christ. The only practical
way of testing the efficiency of Christianity is
to try it. If we defer belief until we have sci
entific certainty of the truth of all its propo
sitions, we shall of course remain unbelievers. If,
on the contrary, however, we recognise the fact
that Christianity appeals to the whole man, not
simply to his intelligence but also to the heart
and the wUl, then we shall be disposed to act as
if it were true, and the result wUl be the convic
tion that it is true. The real question, after all,
is as Browning puts it:
" 'What think ye of Christ,' friend ? when all's done and said.
Like you this Christianity or not?
It may be false, but will you wish it true?
Has it your vote to be so, if it can ?" ^
= "Bishop Blougram's Apology."

302 THE RELIGION OF POWER
The New Testament is full of such appeals.
Faith begins with the willingness to venture on
Christ's bare word. Consent with the wUl and
you wUl be able to assent with the mind. Truth
and obedience walk together, and the fruit of both
is trust. The man who is wUUng to act as if
historic Christianity were true wiU be able eventu
aUy to appeal to the facts of his life against what
ever objections of a speculative kind that may be
urged against it, because the disposition to obey
Christ always enlarges the experience that faith
begins. Religious experience has two sides; it
is partly human and partly divine. The human
aspect is concerned with facts, beliefs, and actions,
with developed principles and convictions. The
divine aspect has to do with a regenerating dy
namic, working into our lives, beneath the thresh
old of consciousness, certain spiritual potencies.
The problem of rehgious growth turns on how re
ligious beliefs are to be related to these sub-con
scious potencies in such a way as to develop them
into conscious activities. We make this important
connection through faith. We assent to certain
religious truths, we begin religious experience by
consenting to act on them, and obedience caUs up
the divinely given potencies from below the thresh
old of consciousness, and they become conscious

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 303
energies expressing themselves in character and
behaviour. Such is the simple but effective way one may
become experimentally acquainted with the Di
vine Reality which has been the object of every
reUgious quest, and which in the dynamic Person
ality of Jesus Christ has adequately and finally
made known its redemptive significance to a world
in need of peace.
The conclusion to which I wish this book to
point concerns itself with the present duty of the
Christian Church. That duty I conceive to be a
very simple one. The modern church has many
opportunities of directing and controlling the by
products of Christianity; it is important that it
endeavour to understand what these opportunities
are and do its full share in their realisation; but
it must not aUow itself to be diverted from its
main business; neither must it permit this age
to forget what that business is. The fundamental
duty of the Church is an adequate presentation
of the gospel of Jesus Christ, Unquestionably
an adequate presentation would include its appli
cation to the social problems of the age ; but there
is a deeper aspect, fundamental to all the rest. I
mean its dynamic significance. The present age
is intensely interested in power; it sees power
working in visible ways. It wiU eagerly beUeve

304 THE RELIGION OF POWER
in spiritual power when it finds the church actively
engaged in a passionate advocacy of the claims
of Jesus Christ. The time is sick of judges and
amiable religious philosophers, and is eager for
the voice of the advocate. The gospel must be
preached with a tremendous confidence in its effi
ciency and finality, but in order to do this we must
know what the gospel is. Especially must we ap
preciate its causal significance. The church must
instruct its members in the functional aspect of
doctrines; it must explain the operation of the
Christian dynamic in such a way as to put behind
the faith of the individual the courage of rich and
deep conviction. Our business in this hfe is not
simply to hold or enjoy a faith, but to propagate
a faith ; and faith can be propagated only when it
is supported by ideas. The ideas of faith are
expressed in its doctrines, the functional inter
pretations of the historic power in which faith
centres. Ideas are the hooks of faith which at
tach themselves to the world's intelligence; they
are the barbs of faith which goad the world to
wards a spiritual experience. We need a revival
of the sort of radical thinking that goes down
to the roots ; and the deeper one goes into human
history the profounder grows the conviction of
the reahty of Christianity. The weakness of
present day religion lies in superficial opinions ; its

THE FINALITY OF CHRISTIANITY 305
real strength is in deep convictions ; but deep con
victions are impossible without root thinking, and
root thinking is radical thinking in the best sense
of that term.
Christianity was conceived in the open — the
thing was not done in a corner — and the church
has nothing to fear from honest investigation. On
the contrary, it must answer the characteristic de
mand of the age for evidence of its dynamic sig
nificance, and that answer I believe Ues in an
adequate presentation of historic Christianity.
The twentieth century is as ready for a gospel
of power as the first century was; and when we
advocate that gospel with the intellectual vigour,
passionate conviction and constructive energy
which characterised that age; when we can give
convincing evidence of its power in our own ex
perience; above all, when we can prove the loy
alty of our lives to the Lord of Glory by an
enthusiastic personal service of the world's spir
itual needs, we shall again see the Christian Dy
namic functioning in history, as it did when first
it iUuminated the darkness and transformed the
life of the ancient world.

INDEX

INDEX

Abelard, 218.
Abraham, covenant with, 364.
Adam, on conflict between
orthodoxy and dissent, 83-83;
translation of hymn of
Cleanthes, IOT, 245.
Adjustment, desire for, 326,
328; method of, 170-171, 201;
need of, 141-142, 147, 201.
Adoption, 244.
.(Eschylus, purifies religious
idealism, 83.
Age, evils of, 179; Lucretius'
criticism of, 122; moral pas
sion of, 141; need of Graeco-
Roman, 177-178, 179; prob
lem of Roman, 141; receptiv
ity of first century, 181; Sen
eca's criticism of, 139.
Alexander the Great, 99; ef
fect of conquests, 101, 105,
115.
Apostles, preach resurrection,
195; testimony of, 76.
Apuleius, condemns priests,
74.
Aristotle, inadequacy of sys
tem, 97-98; on conflict be
tween reason and passion,
167; on oligarchic oath, 117
on reason and impulse, 95-97
on responsibility of state, 97

on virtue, 94-95; philosophy
of, 93ff.
Arnold, Matthew, the Scholar
Gipsy, 140.
Assurance, 266.
At home in the world, 51, 81-82,
133, 376, 392.
Atomic theory, 110, 133.
Atonement, 217; Moral Influ
ence theory, 218-222; New
Testament doctrine of, 233-
236.
Attis, 65. vid. Cybele.
Augustus Caesar, 133.
B
Balfour, on double aspect of
beliefs, 19-30, 185-186, 202.
Basis, historic; demand for, 75-
76.
Beliefs, double aspect of, 19,
20, 185-186, 202.
Bergson, Mam, vital, 106.
Bevan, "Friend behind phenom
ena," 245; on fear, 99; on
Posidonius' aim, 138; on the
Stoic, 108-109.
Black, Hugh; quoted, 390.
Brotherhood, possibility of, 101.
Browning, on Christianity, 301.
Bunyan, on Conscience, 331.
Burnet, on Socrates' daemon,
89; on Sophist conception of

309

310

INDEX

goodness, 84; on spirit of
Greek piiilosophy, 296.

Carlyle, quoted, 288.
Carneades, 103.
Causal series, 19, 20, 32-23, 186,
203, 215.
Cause, in Christian experience,
22.
Century, last; of republic, 116,
119, 120.
Certitude, desire for, 54.
Christ, attitude to claims of, 21 ;
end of law, 232, 264; end of
quest, 284; historic person
ality of, 180, 182, 183-184,
241, 268, 282, 398; historic
reality of, 181, 183; object
of faith, 26, 299, 301; par
doning love of, 210; redemp
tive work of, 215, 251; views
of death of, 318, 219, 222, 234,
282, 299.
Christian Community, early, 57,
198; growth of, 197; origin
of, 182; proof of faith of
church, 199, 383.
Christianity, 56-57, 180, 184,
313; adequate, 213, 374, 284;
aid of cults, 67, 75, 76; an
swer to age, 172; causal sig
nificance of, ix, 18, 20, 21, 23,
263 ; contrasted with cults, 76-
78; converts to, 211; dynamic
significance of, 305; function
in life, 202; history in Acts,
38; influence of Oriental reli
gions on justifying power,
313; misconception of, 340;
mobility of, 183; no eastward

movement, 28, 31; opposition
to, 41; power of, 189-190;
progress, three periods, 39,
40-41, 44; relation to history,
21; spread of, 33-34, 35-37,
67, 73.
Christians, test of, 261.
Church, admission to, 42, 211-
212; apostolic, 198; develop
ment of, 42; open, 69, 76,
183.
Cicero, opportunism of, 128-
129.
City-state, 115; brealdng up of,
117, 120, 177; destructive cur
rents in, 99, 100, 102.
Civilisation, and religion, 287-
288; 289.
Cleanthes, hymn of, 107, 245.
Clergy, non^^secular, 69, 76, 183.
Cognitive series, 19, 20, 22-23,
186, 202-203, 215.
Conduct, safe, definition of
quest for, 50; demand for,
116, 120, 123; desire for, 81,
83, 98, 209; end of quest, 232;
ethical sanction, 154; goal of,
189; individual problem, 151-
152; Plato's quest, 93; prob
lem of, 177-178; Socrates'
quest, 87; urgency of, 84.
Conscience, attitude to inherited
beliefs, 356; Bunyan on, 331;
criticism of, 318; description
of, 330-331.
Conway on last century of re
public, 116-117.
Corinth, 198.
Cosmopolitan, party, 156; tend
encies, 153, 167.
Creed, 16, 23.
Cross, end of quest, 318, 232.

INDEX

3111

Cumont, on appeals to divini
ties, 61; on conflict between
ritual and ethics, 74; on in
fluence of Orient, 118-119; on
Isis, 72; on notion of deity,
64.
Cybele-Attis, 65, 75, 120; ab
sorbed by cult of Mithra, 66;
brought to Rome, 65-66; cult
of, 65 ; Magna Mater, 66.

Dante, on Virgil, 134.
Democritus referred to, 110.
Denis, quoted, 141.
Dependence, sense of, 276, 279,
280.
Dickinson, on distinguishing
feature of Greek religion, 51,
81, 83; on Plato's charioteer,
247.
Dill, on intermediate gods, 256;
on Seneca, 139-140.
Dispersion, Jews, of, 168, 171.
Doctrine, description of func
tion, 33-35, 214, 298; func
tion of, 24-25; necessity of,
242; relation to series, 22-23;
two aspects of, 23, 203.
Dogma, demand for, 104.
DoUinger, 78.
Dunamis, 179, 279.
Dynamic, Christian, 214, 216;
demand for, 178, 184-185;
moral, 178-179, 210; spiritual,
188, 190.

Election, doctrine of, 262-266.
Emperor, worship of, 280.

Ennius, quoted, 116.
Ephesians, epistle to; power of
gospel described, 197-198.
Epictetus, relation to Stoicism,
134.
Epicureanism, 110-111, 116, 177,
188; as ethical quest, 101; ef
fect on Cicero, 128; form of
spiritual experience, 55; in
adequacy of. 111; influence
of, 33, 120; notion of life,
110.
Epicurus, atomic theory of, 110,
123 ; devotion of Lucretius to,
127.
Ethical sanction, 97, 102.
Ethics, conflict with ritual, 74-
76; function of state in ref
erence to, 95, 98; views of
Plato and Aristotle, 102.
Euripides, age of, 83.
Exile, effect of, 150-152.
Ezekiel, on individual life, 151-
152.
Ezra, effort for national unity,
153-154.

Faith, basis for, 187 ; Christian
ity confirms, 21; connecting
power, 298; elements in, 299-
300; in Christ, 76, 243; justi
fying, 239, 243, 266; object
of, 26 ; relation of piiilosophy
to, 19; releasing function, 216,
226-227, 243; stability of, 25;
term of admission, 212.
Fatherhood, divine, 281-282;
revelation of, 282.
Forgiveness, 244.
Fowler, Prof. Warde; on Chris-

312

INDEX

tianity in Roman world, 77-
78; on Cicero, 128-139; on
Lucretius, 121; on signifi
cance of Christianity, 272-
273; on stasis, 117.
Function, 24-26; kinds of, 215-
216; relation to doctrine, 24,
203-204, 214, 298.

Gentile, believers, vid. God-
fearers ; relation to Christian
ity, 27, 33; sense of need of,
228.
Gildersleeve, on Marcus Aureli
us, 136.
Glover, quoted on daemons,
267.
Gnosis, 179, 279.
Goal of hopes, 259; arrived at,
266.
God, attitude to man as sinner,
226-226; fatherhood of, 244;
human likeness of, 277-278;
Jewish idea of, 148; Plato on
reality of, 91-93; right rela
tion to, 49-51, 149, 151, 163-
164, 159, 178, 189, 302, 271,
277; Stoic conception of,
107.
God-fearers, 35-38, 56, 129, 134,
148, 178, 182, 241; Schurer,
quoted, 36.
Gods, fear of, 122, 126-136;
tendency to humanize, 135.
Goodness, idea of Socrates, 86-
87; of Sophists, 84; of Stoics,
108-109.
Gospel, atonement in, 217; at
tracts, 46; creative power of,
198, 199; defines man's status,

322-223; dynamic message,
199; need to preach, 303.
Gospels, the, 75; made neces
sary, 184, 190.
Grace, justifying, 217, 222, 226,
231, 234; religion of, 298.
Greek philosophy, effect of,
116-116, 120.
Growth, problem of, 249, 254,
258.

Heraclitus, referred to, 106.
History, effect on belief, 21;
•'past ethics," 21.
Holiness, progress in, 258, 266,
272.
Holy Spirit, 264-255, 258.
Howerth, definition of religion,
60.
Humanism, influence of, 287 ; of
Seneca, 140; of Virgil, 131-
133.
Humanity, new sense of, 101.
Human life in God, desire for,
283, 297.

Idealism, religious, 81; "unreg
ulated," 290.
Ideas, relation to faith, 17;
Plato's doctrine of, 89-90.
Immortality, in Christianity,
183; in Mystery Religions,
68, 76; Lucretius' denial of,
123.
Incarnation, craved, 279, 283.
Individual, importance of, 84,
98, 161.
Individualism, unregulated, 286.
Isaiah, estimate of his age, 86.

INDEX

313

Isis-Serapis, 63, 79, 75, 130;
cult of, 66-67.

"Know thyself," Delphic max
im, 86.

Jacks, L. P., referred to, 50.
James, Prof. William; on func
tion, 216-216.
Jerusalem, council of, 43-44.
Jesus Christ, in Moral Influ
ence theory, 321; object of
faith, 26; opposition to, 166,
161; Person of, 173; Person
ality of, 282, 298, 303; Son of
God, ix, X, 196; standard of
goodness, 196-197.
Jew, 27, 28; advantage of, 148;
attitude to new faith, 39-40,
142-143; dispersed, 41, 142,
168, 171; failure of, 148, 262;
sense of need, 229.
Judaism, 42; aid to converts,
211; contrasted with Chris
tianity, 183; influence of, 120;
influence of Pharisees on,
167; insufBciency of, 241;
monotheism of, 142-143; rela
tion to gentile Christians, 42-
44; superiority over cults, 56.
Judaizers, 43-44.
Justification, meaning of, 215-
217; object of, 242; prior to
sanctification, 253 ; productive
function, 216; righting act,
215, 217, 226, 229-230, 244.
Juvenal, 72; condemnation of
priests, 74. E
Knowledge, Socratic notion of,
87-88; Plato's notion of, 91-
92.

Law, authority of, 154-165;
eternity of, 169-160; Ezra's
use of, 154; function of, 162-
164, 229, 263-264; obedience
to, 160; Scribes as interpre
ters of, 154-165.
Liberty, Jewish notion of, 27-
28.
Life, Christian, 242, 267; ideals
of, 209.
Logos, 106.
Love, divine, 226, 228; pardon
ing, 210, 217, 222, 228, 241.
Lucian, 62; condemns priests,
74.
Lucretius, compared with Vir
gil, 139-130; develops atomic
theory, 123; on elemental
spirits, 126, 268, 278; on Mag
na Mater, 60; on "Nature of
Things," 121-122; scepticism
of, 122-127; view of religion,
124-126.
Luke, account of early church,
38, 42; humanism of, 76.
M
Magna Mater, 66; brought to
Rome, 65-66, vid. Cybele.
Man, aphorism of Protagoras,
84; modern, 286, 290; rela
tion to world, 288; status be
fore God, 221, 225.
Marcus Aurelius, teachings of,
134-135.
Mark, gospel of, 76.

314

INDEX

Mayor, on Virgil's Eclogue,
133.
Megalesia, festival of, 66.
Messiah, expected, 160; testi
mony of Peter to, 39-40;
wanted, 28.
Messianic Eclogue of Virgil,
133-134.
Meyers, Prof., quoted, 21.
Mithra, absorbs cult of Cybele,
66; cult of, 63-64; influence
of, 66; Plutarch's reference
to, 64.
Moral dynamic, craved, 219,
279.
Moral inability, 219-220.
Moral sense, demand on tra
dition, 165, 219, 277; devel
oped by the law, 170; grow
ing demands of, 165, 167-
168.
Monotheism, ethical, 56, 120,
143, 150-151, 178; highest
type of, 35; of God-fearing
Gentiles, 36; in synagogue
worship, 34-35; tendency to,
64-65.
Muntz on Adoption, 244-245.
Mystery Religions, aid to
Christianity, 67-68, 71, 76;
difficult to interpret, 62; four
kinds, 63; inadequacy of,
183; influence of, 240; na
ture of, 67-69; popularity of,
73; satisfies social needs, 70-
71. N
Nationalism, Jewish, 152, 160.
Nature cults, 63.
Nero, pupil of Seneca, 135-136.

Obedience, element in faith,
300, 302.
Old Testament, book of early
church, 75.
Opportunism of Cicero, 128-
129.
Orient, effect on Rome, 118-
119.
Oriental religions, influence of,
in time of Christ, 33; vogue
of, 213.
Orphic sects, teachings of, 90;
notion of evil, 250-251.
Osiris, 76.
Ovid, on good and evil, 88, 322.

Parties, religious, 156; secular,
155.
Past, debt to, 289; influence of,
ix.
Paul, appeal to Gentiles, 37,78;
belief in resurrection, 193-
194; church organized at Cor
inth, 35; demands of Paul's
age, 220-221, 222, 228-229;
development of doctrine, 242-
243; doctrine of new life,
248-249; on election, 262-266;
experience in Romans, chap
ter seven, 166-166, 229; on
good and evil, 88, 332, 249;
method used to show religion
of power, 185-188, 202-303;
two-fold function of law,
162-164; vision of opportuni
ty, 172-173.
Paulsen, on Moral Influence

INDEX

315

theory, 221-222; on need of
religion, 297.
Peace, as function of faith, 230-
234; relation to pardoning
love, 216.
"People of the way," 57.
Performance, demand for, 187,
194.
Perseverance, 267.
Person, divine, in Christianity,
188.
Personality, craved, 142, 220;
historic personality in Chris
tianity, 181-184, 190.
Pessimism, 142.
Petronius, condemns priests,
74.
Pharisaism, 193.
Pharisee, 28; failure of system
of, 162-170; idea of law, 159-
160; of relation to God, 159;
origin of, 29; party, 28, 165-
157.
Philosophers, pre-Socratic, 83.
Philosophy, inadequate, 296-
296; trend of, 140.
Pilgrimage, of conscience, 147;
of imagination, 147 ; of mind,
147.
Pindar, purified religious ideal
ism, 83.
Plato, allegory of cave, 90-91;
on conflict of flesh and spirit,
247-248; doctrine of ideas, 89-
90; ethical monotheism of,
90; idea of knowledge, 91;
inadequacy of philosophy, 92-
93; influence of, 120; way to
God, 93.
Plutarch, on elemental spirits,
256-257; reference to Mithra,
64.

Posidonius, aim of, 128; tem
pered stoicism, 132.
Power, altruistic quest, 394-
396; egoistic quest, 394; for a
life, 248; how communicated,
210; knowledge is, 87-88;
manifesting itself, 50, 81, 147;
virtue-making, 93, 96-97, 179-
180, 220; want of, 293.
Prayer, religion of, 78.
Predestination, 262, 265.
Priest, power of, 126-127.
Priesthood, non-secular, 68-69,
76, 183.
Prophets, duty of, 155.
Protagoras, aphorism of, 84;
teaching of, 84-85.
"Pumpkinification of Claudius,"
137.
Purpose, divine, 262-266.
Pyrrho, founder of skeptical
school, 103. Q
Quest, effect on Paul, 201; ele
ments of religious conscious
ness revealed in, 276-276; end
of, 284, 299; failure of, 171;
goal of, 189; for holiness,
241; phases of, S3; for power,
241.

R
Reconciliation, 189, 222, 224
243-244, 247.
Reform, inadequacy of, 141.
Reformation, Protestant, 286.
Regeneration, 247.
Relationship, legal, 153, 159.

816

INDEX

Religio, 124, 127, 272.
Religion, as "effective desire,"
50, 81, 147, 163; chief con
cern, 287-288; for Jew, 149;
law free, 239; notion of, 50,
67; of prayer, 78; test of,
188.
Religious, appeal, 179; convic
tions, 15, 17, 18, 22; con
sciousness, demand of, 285,
297; elements of, 275-276;
truth, desire for system of,
19, 21.
Remedy, demand for, 167.
Renaissance, 286-287.
Repentance, term of admission,
212.
Responsibility, new sense of,
159.
Resurrection, 40, 191, 195-197,
199-200; of Christ, 216, 268,
271 ; dynamic quality of, 197,
199; evidence for, 190-191;
fact of, 194; not a symbol,
192-195; Paul's use of, 199-
200; relation to Christianity,
193.
Righteousness, 214-215.
Right relation, effective desire
for, 50, 81, 147, 163, 277-279;
to God, 209, 226.
Ritual, conflict with ethics, 74-
76; effect on religion, 59;
popularity of, 59; power of,
60-61; religion of natural
man, 58; as screen, 82.
Romans, epistle to; analysis of
experience in chapter seven,
165-166.
Rome, state of society in, 33,
116, 119; westward door,
27.

s
Sadducees, 29-30; attitude to
gospel beginnings, 40; atti
tude to Messiah, 160; cosmo
politan party, 166; interest
of, 168-169; origin of, 166.
Salvation, by ethics, 65 ; by law,
160, 162; by legal obedience,
56; by ritual, 55, 58, 78;
earned, 211, 232.
Sanctification, 247; object of,
253; relation to justification,
263.
Sanday, Prof., on Romans, 223.
Saviour, desire for, 281; need
of, 142.
Science, no spiritual aid from,
296-297.
Scribes, origin of, 154.
Scriptures, Greek version of
Old Testament, 35.
Secularism, tendency to, after
captivity, 152.
Seneca, 134-135; character of,
136-138; as consoler, 140;
criticism of age, 139; Stoi
cism of, 138-140.
Shorter catechism, on sin, 163.
Sin, atonement needed, 228;
conviction of, 228; doctrine
of, 282; law defined, 162-164.
Skepticism, 103.
Social passion, 71, 294-295.
Socrates, 85-89; dcemmi, 89
criticism of craftsmen, 290
inadequacy of teaching, 89
Stoic estimate of, 195.
Sophists, age of, 83; on good
ness, 84.
Sophocles, contribution to reli
gious idealism, 83.

INDEX

317

Spirit, conflict with flesh, 347-
249; views of Aristotle, 348;
of Paul, 249; of Plato, 247.
Spirits, elemental, 126-127, 256-
268, 279.
Spirituality, new sense of, 151-
152.
Stasis, at Rome, 118; defined,
117.
State, function of, in etliics, 95-
96.
Stearns, Prof., on justification,
253; on Moral Influence theo
ry, 218; on sanctification, 253.
Stephen, estimate of Christian
ity, 169; part in spread of
Christianity, 40-41.
Stevens, Prof., on election, 264.
Stoicism, 116, 188; compared to
Epicureanism, 110; effect on
Cicero, 128; ethical move
ment, 73; ethical quest, 101;
inadequacy of, 107-108; influ
ence of, 33, 120; intensifies
unrest, 177; philosophy of,
105-110; salvation by, 55.
Stoics, 188, 195.
Syncretism, Cicero's interest in,
128; of cults, 62, 73; period
of, 158; tendency to, 55, 104,
213, 294. T

Tests of religion, 187.
Theology, 16, 23.
Thucydides, cited, 118.
Trust, element in belief, 300.

Unrest in modern world, 291.

Values, altered conception of,
286, 291.
Virgil, aid to Christianity, 134;
contact with "terrible cen
tury," 116; contrasted with
Lucretius, 129-130; human
ism of, 131-133; Messianic
Eclogue, 133; service to age,
133-134 ; spiritual sensibility
of, 131 ; Stoicism of, 131-132.
Virtue, views of Aristotle, 94;
of Plato, 92.
Virtue-making power, in Christ,
199-200; vid. Power.
w
Way of life, demand for, 101.
Westcott, F. B., quoted, 224.
Wilson, Woodrow, quoted, 96.
Worship of emperors, 133.

Taylor, H. 0., quoted, 122.
Temples, public buildings, 69.

Zeno, philosophy of, 104-106.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY CO
III liilillil IIII IIII II IIII I II IIII IIIIII III II '^
lililliililililliliiiliilii -^ I

3 9002 01407 8670