It is only natural that the parable of the Prodigal Son should be no
favorite with those who deny the unconditional mercy of God. The place
which this divine tale occupies in the Unitarian theology appears to
be filled, in the orthodox scheme, by the story of Zaleucus, king of
the Locrians; which has been appealed to in the present controversy by
both the lecturers on the Atonement, and seems to be the only
endurable illustration presented, even by Pagan history, of the
execution of vicarious punishment. This monarch had passed a law
condemning adulterers to the loss of both eyes. His own son was
convicted of the crime; and, to satisfy at once the claims of law and
of clemency, the royal parent "commanded one of his own eyes to be
pulled out, and one of his son's." Is it too bold a heresy to confess
that there seems to me something heathenish in this example, and that,
as an exponent of the Divine character, I more willingly revere the
Father of the prodigal than the father of the adulterer?
Without entering, however, into any comparison between the Locrian and
the Galilean parable, I would observe, that the vicarious theory
receives no illustration from this fragment of ancient history. There
is no analogy between the cases, except in the violation of truth and
wisdom which both exhibit; and whatever we are instructed to admire in
Zaleucus, will be found on close inspection to be absent from the
orthodox representation of God. We pity the Grecian king, who had made
a law without foresight of its application, and so sympathize with his
desire to evade it, that any quibble which legal ingenuity can devise
for this purpose passes with slight condemnation; casuistry refuses to
be severe with a man implicated in such a difficulty. But the Creator
and Legislator of the human race, having perfect knowledge of the
future, can never be surprised into a similar perplexity; or ever pass
a law at one time which at another he desires to evade. Even were it
so, there would seem to be less that is unworthy of his moral
perfection in saying plainly, with the ancient Hebrews, that he
"repented of the evil he thought to do," and said, "It shall not be,"
than in ascribing to him a device for preserving consistency, in which
no one capable of appreciating veracity can pretend to discern any
sincere fulfilment of the law. However barbarous the idea of Divine
"repentance," it is at least ingenuous. Nor does this incident of
Zaleucus and his son present any parallel to the alleged relation
between the Divine Father who receives, and the Divine Son who gives,
the satisfaction for human guilt. The Locrian king took a part of the
penalty himself, and left the remainder where it was due; but the
Sovereign Lawgiver of Calvinism puts the whole upon another. To
sustain the analogy, Zaleucus should have permitted an innocent son to
have both his eyes put out, and the convicted adulterer to escape.
The doctrine of Atonement has introduced among Trinitarians a mode of
speaking respecting God, which grates most painfully against the
reverential affections due to him. His nature is dismembered into a
number of attributes, foreign to each other, and preferring rival
claims; the Divine tranquillity appears as the equilibrium of opposing
pressures,--the Divine administration as a resultant from the
collision of hostile forces. Goodness pleads for that which holiness
forbids; and the Paternal God would do many a mercy, did the Sovereign
God allow. The idea of a conflict or embarrassment in the Supreme Mind
being thus introduced, and the believer being haunted by the feeling
of some tremendous difficulty affecting the Infinite government, the
vicarious economy is brought forward as the relief, the solution of
the whole perplexity; the union, by a blessed compromise, of
attributes that could never combine in any scheme before. The main
business of theology is made to consist in stating the conditions and
expounding the solution of this imaginary problem. The cardinal
difficulty is thought to be the reconciliation of justice and mercy;
and, as the one is represented under the image of a Sovereign, the
other under that of a Father, the question assumes this form: How can
the same being at every moment possess both these characters, without
abandoning any function or feeling appropriate to either? how,
especially, can the Judge remit?--it is beyond his power; yet how can
the Parent punish to the uttermost?--it is contrary to his nature.
All this difficulty is merely fictitious, arising out of the
determination to make out that God is both wholly Judge and wholly
Father; from an anxiety, that is, to adhere to two metaphors, as
applicable, in every particular, to the Divine Being. It is evident that
both must be, to a great extent, inappropriate; and in nothing, surely,
is the impropriety more manifest, than in the assertion that, as
sovereign, God is naturally bound to execute laws which, nevertheless,
it would be desirable to remit, or change in their operation. Whatever
painful necessities the imperfection of human legislation and judicial
procedure may impose, the Omniscient Ruler can make no law which he will
not to all eternity, and with entire consent of his whole nature, deem
it well to execute. This is the Unitarian answer to the constant
question, "How can God forgive in defiance of his own law?" It is not in
defiance of his laws: every one of which will be fulfilled to the
uttermost, in conformity with his first intent; but nowhere has he
declared that he would not forgive. All justice consists in treating
moral agents according to their character; the inexorability of human
law arises solely from the imperfection with which it can attain this
end, and is not the essence, but the alloy, of equity; but God, who
searches and controls the heart, exercises that perfect justice, which
permits the penal suffering to depart only with the moral guilt; and
pardons, not by cancelling any sentence, but by obeying his eternal
purpose to meet the wanderer returning homeward, and give his blessing
to the restored. Only by such restoration can any past guilt be effaced.
The thoughts, emotions, and sufferings of sin, once committed, are woven
into the fabric of the soul; and are as incapable of being absolutely
obliterated thence and put back into non-existence, as moments of being
struck from the past, or the parts of space from infinitude. Herein we
behold alike "the goodness and the severity of God"; and adore in him,
not the balance of contrary tendencies, but the harmony of consentaneous
perfections. How plainly does experience show that, if his personal
unity be given up, his moral unity cannot be preserved!
The author himself is the best exemplification of the man described in
this account of the