religion, like morality, has no answer, properly speaking, to
scepticism—but that it rests upon an act of faith in answer to what
is ever saying, How, what, and why?—let us come back then to that
point at which we left it last night. That is the point at which we
saw, that in order to be moral, and to believe in morality, we must
exercise an act of faith, we must trust in ourselves, in our own
higher and better nature. It must be an act of faith which never can
justify itself to the understanding. Submit the understanding to the
soul, elevate the conscience above the merely logical and questioning
faculty; say by the exercise of a higher faculty, say by the power of
that instinct of faith, which is given us for the very purpose that
we may rise above the instinct of doubt—say, I know that this is
right and this is true, while I have a soul. There is in the heart
of every human being an eternal opposition between the merely
sceptical understanding and the spiritual faculty, between that which
demonstrates and that which believes, between the mind which we share
with the animal, and the soul which we Christians believe we
specially derive from God; and these two are opposite the one to the
other. That in us which says, This must be so, this shall be so so,
is a higher faculty than that which in us inquires, Why is it so, how
can this be so? And that act of faith in us on which our morality,
our religion, and our higher forms of being rest, is that by which we
assert the supremacy of the one above the other. We are not always
conscious, nor often conscious, of this contradiction in our
innermost nature, of the opposition between the spiritual part of our
nature and the mere fleshly man. There are times, however, when we
feel conscious of it. There are times when to each one of us comes
some dire and deadly temptation, when we find ourselves in the
presence of some coveted object, when the animal craves for its
gratification, and the spirit trembles at the thought of the unlawful
thing; and then we find the serpent intellect pleading in an
ingenious way that there is no law against it. I say, there is not
in this church a single man or woman who has not felt the eternal
opposition between the spirit and the flesh; who has not felt that
his deliverance from temptation, the mastery over the evil thing that
was leading him on to evil, lies not in any logic or demonstration,
but in the submission of the logical faculty to the spiritual, in
saying to the animal part of our nature, Be silent, submit, I will be
righteous, I will not sin. I say, in that moment we do become
conscious of the opposition that exists between the intellectual and
spiritual part of our nature. It is then that the great billows of
our souls are ebbing and flowing in the agony of our temptation. It
is at that time we feel the innermost parts of our being, the
fountains of the great deep broken up; and then the spirit says, I
will be righteous. And though we are not conscious of it, though the
animal has been accustomed to obey the man, there is this secret
opposition between the two. It is in the nature of what oculists
tell us. They tell us, that the image of an object is inverted on
the retina of the eye, and that it is only by constant habit of
correction of the impression that we see things truly. So there is
the natural inversion of the nature of the man; the animal gets the
upper hand in the man, and it is only by the unconscious training of
the man in Christian society that the supremacy of the moral part of
the man is strongly established; and we are not conscious of the act
of faith, but still that act of faith underlies all morality, and it
is true in morality as in religion, “The just shall live by faith.”
There is no righteous deed that any one of us has done that we did
not do by virtue of this act of faith; “The just shall live by
faith.”
Now let us pass on to another question, for if the whole moral and
religious life is based upon the act of faith, there doubtless must
be a good reason for it. We Christians believe that God made us so
for a good reason. Can we see any reason why we should live our
moral life by faith? That faith is not a mere assent to
propositions, it is trust in a person, in a nature, a belief that we
are better, nobler, than our understanding would persuade us we are.
Every time this opposition which I have described arises within a
man, he is given a choice; he has to pass through a probation, or a
test as to whether he will or will not believe in his better self,
whether he will rise up to the idea of his spiritual nature, or sink
down to the depths of his animal nature. There is a trial for him,
and a discipline in the trial, and a culture and a growth of his
moral nature if he stands firm in the trial. We cannot believe, in
such a moment of trial, in our nobler and better selves, without
becoming in the very act of believing, nobler and better out of such
strife; and the man comes out stronger every time he wrestles with
his baser self; his purer and nobler self comes out of the trial
nobler and purer.
There is a deep meaning in the temptation of our Saviour, when he is
said to have been with the wild beasts, in that hour when the man is
wrestling with the wild beasts, or the brute part of his nature, and
his spiritual nature comes strong out of the struggle; just as the
waving of the branches of the trees in the wind, makes the sap
circulate to the tiniest leaflet, and brings the life-blood of the
plant to every part. This is the use and object of the act of faith;
to train, discipline, and elevate the man. Further, I have said, in
every case in which a man believes in his better self, he becomes
better; but we have to deal not only with our better selves, we have
to come constantly in contact with other natures and other
personalities than our own. Now, what happens when we encounter a
higher or more moral nature than our own? Just the very same trial
and discipline; because if a man comes to deal with a higher and
better nature than his own, there is always a trial to the lower
nature. If a higher nature could be easily understood by a lower
nature, then the two natures would be equal. It is the very essence
of a higher and purer nature to be something of a mystery to a lower
nature. Some of the sayings or the doings of that higher nature,
will always appear strange and puzzling to the lower nature, just
because it is a lower nature. There is always the possibility of the
lower nature saying of the higher nature, This nature is no better
than mine, I do not believe in its higher or greater goodness. But
are these cynical, worldly-wise men who disparage others, generally
speaking, the most improving and valuable of our acquaintances? Do
we not generally find these cynical, bitter, disparaging men to be
men of low tone? They have lowered their moral nature in the hour of
probation and trial; they have sunk lower than themselves, because
they have refused to believe in something higher and better than
themselves. If these men could have risen to the higher natures they
had to deal with, then in that very hour, their own nature would have
grown purer, nobler, and higher. So we see again, the act of faith
would be an act of probation, an act of discipline, an act of moral
culture and growth. Therefore we say it is true, “Blessed are they
that have not seen, and yet have believed.”
But now let us go one step further. We have seen that in all
morality there is an act of faith, and we believe in our own higher
nature and the higher nature of others, and in so doing we ourselves
grow better; but is there not something better still? We that
believe in higher natures than our own, is there not in our hearts an
instinctive belief that there must be somewhere perfect
righteousness, perfect truth, perfect holiness? We seek for it,
believe in it; do we ever find it? The more we know of men, though
we may know more of their excellencies, we are compelled to know
something more too of their imperfections. The result of this
discovery is that one of two things happens, according as we listen
to our understanding or our will. The sceptical understanding says,
There is no such thing as perfection anywhere. That answer is
unanswerable if we look only to experience. Is that the answer of
the soul and heart of man? No, the soul and the heart rebel against
this cheerless teaching. The soul has ever been uttering its protest
against this despairing creed, ever speaking its belief in the
reality of a perfect righteousness, a perfect truth, a perfect
holiness; but can never attain to it. It may be a dream, but it is a
dream that has haunted humanity from the first hour of its existence.
We thus have faith in humanity, and the value of this faith is that
it elevates the soul which believes in it; a faith which cannot
justify itself to the understanding, a faith as deep as the human
heart, and as old as the hills.
There is in very deed, in a very true sense, although it may be a low
sense comparatively, a religion of humanity; a creed and an act of
faith; and that religion has for its creed these articles: man is
pure; he is not a bundle of passions merely; man is responsible, he
has to answer for his beliefs; man may yet be perfect. There is no
article in this creed that can be justified to the sceptical
intellect, and yet there is not a single article in it that the
loving heart of man, and that his soul in his highest and best
moments, does not cling to as the very life of its life. The heart
of man believes in the perfectibility of humanity, in spite of sin
and misery and oppression. The long litany of man’s [imperfections?]
comes down with a wail of despairing denial of the possibility of
perfection. Remedy after remedy has been tried, scheme after scheme
has been invented, and have been borne away like the bubbles on the
wave; but still the heart of man clings to the belief that there is a
perfect goodness somewhere, even when civilisation fails to produce
it, even in spite of what we have seen in the last three months when
the most civilised nations of Europe have banded themselves together
for mutual destruction; in spite of all this disproof of perfection,
the heart of man clings to it still. We do have faith in humanity,
and the value of the faith is that it elevates the soul which
believes in it. This belief in the possibility of perfection, in the
possibility of delivering men from sin and sorrow, this is not merely
the dream of the poet, it is not merely the Utopia of the
philosopher, but it is the instinctive might in the heart of the
earnest worker, that gives strength to him who does his duty amid the
haunts of sin and sorrow; it is this that sends the Christian worker
into the back streets and lanes of our great cities; it is this that
sends the Christian minister to the bedside of the dying; it is this
that makes men toil and suffer for their fellow men, like him whom we
worship, who saw in his dying hour of the travail of his soul and was
satisfied.
And now we take one step further. We have seen that there is a faith
which underlies all morality as well as religion, and that this faith
is the discipline of the soul, and without it the soul cannot grow in
morality or religion. Let us suppose, for argument’s sake, let us
suppose that for this yearning of the soul after an infinite
perfection, there is a corresponding reality—an absolutely perfect, a
supremely righteous and true and holy Being. And let us suppose that
it pleased him to make a revelation of himself to man; what should we
expect beforehand respecting that revelation? Should we not expect
that it would follow the analogy of all other revelations to the
higher and better part of man’s nature, and that inasmuch as morality
needs faith, so this manifestation of the Perfect One would come in
some way or other so as to call out the act of faith? Should we not
expect that if this were the only absolutely perfect nature, it would
appear to our lower and inferior nature in some respects
unintelligible, in some respects mysterious, in some respects
contradictory? For all mysteries, everything we cannot understand,
must come to our understanding in the shape of contradictory
propositions. We must expect that this higher nature, this perfect
nature, should try our faith. If it would be unreasonable to suppose
that an inferior man to himself should understand a man, so also it
would be unreasonable to suppose that our nature should not find some
difficulty in perfectly appreciating and understanding the absolutely
perfect nature of a supremely perfect Being. Should we not expect
from analogy that we should have some more difficulty in
understanding God, than we have in understanding man? We must expect
the same trial of our faith, the same probation and discipline of our
spiritual nature, when it is brought into contemplation of this
perfect nature. Surely we should beforehand expect that this would
be the case; surely we might say that the God who was perfectly
understood could not be the true God. When a man says, I want a God
that is not a mystery; I ask, Do you know a man who is without a
mystery? Are you not a mystery yourself? Is there one fellow being
whom you understand? And yet you say, I have not faith in a God whom
I cannot understand. Who can comprehend him who dwells in ineffable
light, in whom there is no variableness nor shadow of turning? If
there be revelation from God at all, it must try the faith of man.
In the next place, we should expect that it would be a revelation of
a righteous person; because we know that the highest tendencies of
our nature at their best moments are ever to find a righteous person,
and our faith that has been cultivated in our brother man naturally
looks for a person. Faith has ever been trusting in a person, in a
nature, and therefore we should expect beforehand that if there came
a revelation of this God, it would not come in the shape of a
revelation of doctrines or creeds, but that it would be a revelation
of a person. We Christians say there is made to us a revelation of
the working of the Divine Will, and the purpose of the Divine
Designer, in the works of his hands. We say the invisible things of
God are revealed by the things that are made. There is that in the
world which testifies to a creator and designer. This we believe
because there is that in us which instinctively, when it finds a work
of art, supposes an artist; and finding a work requiring design, has
belief in a designer. We say, “The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the firmament shows his handy work.”
But this revelation must follow the law of all other manifestations.
There must be a possibility of denying it; a discipline here, as in
the other case, in which faith is called into play; and therefore,
though the world reveals its maker, it does not demonstrate its
maker. “Day unto day is uttering speech, and night unto night
showeth forth knowledge;” but the speech is like the speech for
things spiritual, the utterance is for all who choose to believe it.
If men will, they may put it aside; and some deny it in the face of
the world. God has willed that there shall be nothing in this world
to demonstrate his existence; but it is now as of old, inasmuch as
men did not choose to retain God in their knowledge, he gave them
over to a reprobate mind. There is a possibility, there is a
necessity, in the manifestation of God, that it should try the faith
of man. Once more, we Christians believe not only that God has
revealed himself in his works, but also in his word, in his Incarnate
Word; that, in answer to the craving desire of the soul of man to
look upon human perfection, this earth has once been walked upon by a
perfect man; that in the story of the Gospels we possess that which
no imperfect souls could ever have imagined, the lineaments of a
perfect being. I am not saying that it is so, but it is our belief.
But before we opened the Gospels, we should expect according to the
analogy of all other holy and righteous lives that we know of, that
it should not demonstrate itself, should not make itself an
impossibility to the sceptical mind to find fault with it, and should
reveal itself to those whose lives were like it, so that wisdom
should justify herself by her children. We should not expect,
judging from analogy of what we see in the world, that this life
should in all respects silence all opposition, and be understood by
every mind that it came in contact with. We should expect to hear
that he was despised and rejected of men, and some people besought
him to depart from their coasts. If the revelation of a divine and
perfect nature is to follow the analogy of all revelations of a lower
degree of perfection, and all manifestations of inferior natures,
then we must expect the same law will govern this case as all others;
there will be a possibility of doubt, and a trial of faith, and to
those who conquer the doubt and exercise the faith, will the promise
be realised, “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have
believed.” Ah, it was not with faith in a series of propositions
only, nor in a set of dogmas—though we believe the propositions and
hold the dogmas, but in the light of faith in this person—that the
disciples of the Perfect One went out to convert the world. They did
not preach Christ’s teaching, but Christ.
Did it ever occur to you to read the Acts of the Apostles? if so, you
will have seen how little of the words of Christ, how little of the
teachings of Christ, appears there. When we read in the Acts, how
the Apostles went out to preach Christ, do we read that they gathered
the multitude in the forum? Did they say, Listen to the morality of
the Gospels? You will not find a quotation from the Sermon on the
Mount. What did they do? They gathered the multitude together, and
preached not the words of Christ, but Christ. They said, Come and
believe in this man; it was the personality, it was the life and
death, and resurrection and ascension of him, that they preached. It
was a person in whom they asked the people to believe; and the result
is this extraordinary and singular fact, that Christ is the only
teacher among men whose life is greater than his teaching. All other
teachers have faded into insignificance in comparison with their
teaching. Who cares about the life of Euclid? but everybody believes
in his teaching. Men are fond of comparing Christ with Socrates.
Let us take it so. Did any man ever hear a person say, I am dead
with Socrates; I am buried with Socrates; the life that I live is by
faith in Socrates? Were such words ever heard of any heathen
teacher? How comes it that men said this of Christ? The faith of
the soul went out to the nature and work of Christ. The faith of man
triumphed in the discovery of the perfect man.
Now we have reached the last point to which I have desired to bring
you in this series of sermons. We have reached the historical fact,
as to which others will follow me who will take up the subject, and
who will show the evidence arising from history and prophecy. My
task ends in removing the stumbling-blocks which would prevent your
coming to hear them. It has been my part to lead you to the steps,
to the threshold of the temple. We have found difficulties that have
kept many away from the entrance to the temple. The first is the
belief that Christianity is opposed to Freethought. And I have
endeavoured to show you that Christianity does not deny it, but
asserts it; that where Christianity does deny it, law and society
deny it. The second difficulty is that of scepticism. We have seen
that it is fatal to morality, and to all the higher forms of human
life, and that the sceptical understanding should submit to the soul.
Christianity only requires what morality has done. I have answered
the objection that Christianity must appeal to faith, and must do so
because it cannot find demonstration. Our answer is that it has all
the demonstration that is possible for the supernatural or for
history. Christianity does make demands on faith, but it acts in
accordance with the analogy of human life; and Christianity in
claiming faith justifies its claim to be a religion.
Now the time comes to close this discourse, in which from my inmost
soul I have set the truth before you. I will ask you in all
sincerity, Why do you suppose I am here? Some may say because we are
priests and bigots. To me, if I must put it so, it makes no
difference whether I come here or not. Why do I come here? Do you
really, honestly believe, that I have come here to deceive you? Will
you not give me credit, that to the best of my ability and in all
earnestness and honesty, I have endeavoured to put before you the
reasons that seem to me sufficient for my belief? Hear us, then, for
this reason if for no other, that we desire your souls for our Lord
and Master, that it is in his name we come among you, and because we
believe that Jesus is the Son of God and came down from heaven to
save men. It is for this reason, and this only, that we are here to
speak to you, that we may with the help of God deepen your faith or
shake your unbelief. We come with his word, that calls on you to
follow the higher and not the lower part of your nature. “Believe in
the Lord Jesus Christ, and ye shall be saved.” There are some who
don’t believe in the first part of this message, there are few who do
not believe that men need to be saved, saved in this world, and saved
in the next, saved from some of the sin and misery in this world. I
ask, is there no need of faith, is there no desire for the objects of
faith? Among men have we not some need of faith? The world is
growing old and sick at heart. All the remedies that have been tried
for the evils of society, have been tried in vain. Idol after idol
has been set up, has been rocked on its basis, and shivered. The
gods of mankind have been taken away, and the cry of despondency has
been raised, We have no humanity. Is there any evidence that there
shall be a perfection of humanity? Is it from faith in men of
science? Did science ever comfort the afflicted, or allay human
sorrows? Faith in civilisation? Can it remedy the evils that are
conquering society? Civilisation now means the gathering of men in
great masses, to live the luxurious, the voluptuous life of great
towns; it means the weary, toilful, haggard life of others in these
same towns; it means the rich growing richer, and the poor growing
poorer every day. Civilisation throws its dark shadows in its track.
Civilisation and science, have they arrested war, or softened the
heart of humanity, or prevented strife between nations?
Civilisation, science and art have invented mitrailleuses, and
invented destructive methods of wholesale murder. Where will you
find in all these things a substitute for faith? Some speak of the
millennium, and of the natural state of man being remedied in this
world. We believe in the final perfection of man, but not in this
world. We believe in the reign of righteousness, but it is in the
eternal world. It is in that faith that we gain courage to look on
the scenes and sorrows that afflict humanity. It is in the strength
of that faith that we look down on the graves of the departed, and
believe all is not dust of the earth; but we take up the song of
Christian triumph over death, and thank God for the message “Blessed
are they that have not seen and yet have believed.”
THIRD REPLY
OF
MR. C. BRADLAUGH.
CHRISTIANITY AND FAITH.
ON Wednesday evening, April 5th, Mr. Bradlaugh delivered his third
lecture on “Christianity and Faith,” before an audience which crowded
every corner of the Free Library, Norwich. He said: In delivering the
last of this course of lectures, permit me to commence by expressing my
regret, that those who differ from me consider it necessary to show their
disagreement in the manner in which it was expressed last night, on my
leaving this room. If it had been the conduct of some ignorant young
persons only, I should not have deemed it right to waste one moment in
bringing the matter before you, but there were full-grown and decently
dressed persons, who were distributing religious tracts, who encouraged
others in following me, and using foul language. I could not help
feeling how strong was the cause which I advocate, and how wretchedly
weak the cause of my opponents, when such weapons were resorted to in
lieu of fair reply.