§ 1. Definition of the Church Doctrine.
“The fundamental formula for the doctrine of the Trinity, as defined by
the Church,” says Twesten,(72) “is, that in one divine essence or nature
there are three persons, distinguished from each other by certain
characteristics, and indivisibly participating in that one nature.” The
“Augsburg Confession,” says, in like manner, “three persons in one
essence.”(73) So the “Gallic Confession,” and other Church Confessions,
which say almost the same thing in the same words.(74)
The explanations given to these phrases vary indefinitely. Nitzsch (System
d. Christ. Lehre, § 80) says, “We stand related in such a way, with all
our Christian experience (Gewerdensein und Werden), to the one, eternal,
divine essence, who is love, that in the Son we adore love as mediating
and speaking, in the spirit as fellowship and life, in the Father as
source and origin.” Schleiermacher considers this doctrine as not any
immediate expression of the Christian consciousness, and declares that
“our communion with Christ might be just the same if we knew nothing at
all of this transcendent mystery.” Hase says,(75) “This Church dogma
always has floated between Unitarianism, Tritheism, and Sabellianism,
asserting the premises of all three, and denying their conclusions only by
maintaining the opposite.”
All sorts of illustrations have been used from the earliest times—such as
fountain, brook, river; root, stalk, branch; memory, understanding,
will;(76) soul, reason, sense;(77) three persons in grammar, the teacher,
the person spoken to, and that spoken of.(78) Some mystics argued the
necessity of three persons in the Deity for the sake of a divine society
and mutual love.(79) Lessing argues that “God from eternity must have
contemplated that which is most perfect, but that is himself; but to
contemplate with God, is to create; God’s thought of himself, therefore,
must be a being, but a divine being, that is, God, the Son God; but these
two, God the thinker and God the thought, are in perfect divine harmony,
and this harmony is the Spirit.”(80) Leibnitz also considers the Trinity
as illustrated best by the process of reflection in the human mind.
Strauss objects to this class of definitions, that they are two elements
united in a third, while the Church doctrine requires three united in a
fourth.
The Church doctrine concerning the Trinity appears most fully developed in
its Orthodox form in what is called the Creed of St. Athanasius. It was
not written by him, but by some one in the fifth or sixth century.
1. Whosoever will be saved, before all things must take care to keep the
Catholic faith:
2. Which except one keeps it entire and inviolate, he shall without doubt
perish everlastingly.
3. But the Catholic faith is this: that we adore one God in Trinity, and
the Trinity in Unity;
4. Neither confounding the persons, nor dividing the substance.
5. For there is one person of the Father, another of the Son, and another
of the Holy Spirit.
6. But the divinity of the Father, Son, and Spirit, is one, the glory
equal, the majesty equal.
7. As is the Father, so is the Son, and so is the Holy Spirit.
8. The Father is uncreated, the Son is uncreated, and the Holy Spirit
uncreated.
9. The Father immeasurable,(81) the Son immeasurable, and the Holy Spirit
immeasurable.
10. The Father eternal, the Son eternal, and the Holy Spirit eternal.
11. And yet there are not three Eternals, but one Eternal.
12. And so there are not _three_ uncreated, nor _three_ immeasurable, but
_one_ uncreated, and _one_ immeasurable.
13. So the Father is omnipotent, the Son is omnipotent, and the Holy
Spirit is omnipotent.
14. And yet there are not _three_ omnipotents, but one omnipotent.
15. So the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Spirit is God.
16. And yet there are not _three_ Gods, but _one_ God.
17. So the Father is Lord, the Son is Lord, and the Holy Spirit is Lord.
18. And yet there are not _three_ Lords, but _one_ Lord.
19. For as we are compelled by Christian truth to confess of each one,
that each person(82) is God and Lord; so we are forbidden by the Catholic
religion from saying three Gods or three Lords.
20. The Father is not made, nor created, nor begotten.
21. The Son is from the Father alone; not made, nor created, _but
begotten_.
22. The Holy Spirit is from the Son and the Father; not created, nor
begotten, but _proceeding_.
23. Therefore there is one Father, and not three; one Son, and not three;
one Holy Spirit, and not three.
24. And in this Trinity there is none before or after, none greater or
less, but all three Persons are coeternal and coequal.
25. So that everywhere we must adore the Unity in Trinity, and the Trinity
in Unity.
26. Whoever, therefore, would be saved, must think thus of the Trinity.
§ 2. History of the Doctrine.
In the Christian Church, the history of this doctrine is interesting and
important. Some sort of Triad, or Trinity, existed in very early times,
although the Orthodox form was not established until later.
At first, the prevailing doctrine is that of subordination; that is, that
the Son and the Spirit are inferior to the Father. But, as the Son and the
Spirit were also called divine, those who thought thus were accused of
believing in three Gods.(83) Some then said, that the Father was alone
divine; and these were called Monarchians. Others, wishing to retain the
divinity of the Son and Spirit, and yet to believe in one God, said that
the _divinity_ in the Father, in the Son, and in the Spirit, was
essentially the same, but that the divinity of the Father was the fountain
from which that of the Son and Spirit was derived. This was fixed as
Orthodox at the Council of Nice, A.D. 325, and was the beginning of
Orthodoxy in the Church. It was a middle course between Scylla and
Charybdis, which were represented on the one side by Arius, who maintained
that the Son was created out of nothing; and by Sabellius on the other
hand, who maintained that the Son was only a mode, manifestation, or name
of God; God being called the Father, as Creator of the world; called Son,
as Redeemer of the world; and Spirit, as Sanctifier of the world. The
Council of Nice declared that the Son was not a manifestation of God, as
Sabellius said, nor a creation by God, as Arius said, but a derivation
from God.(84) Just as the essence of the fountain flows into the stream
derived from it, so the essence of the Father flows into the Son, who is
derived from him. Here, then, we have the three formulas of the early
Church—that of Arius, who says, “The Son was created by the Father, and is
inferior to him;” that of Sabellius, who says, “The Father, Son, and
Spirit, are manifestations of God, and the same essence;” and Orthodoxy,
as the Council of Nice, trying to stand between them, and saying, “The Son
is derived from the Father, and is of the same essence with him.”
The Church, ever since, has been like a ship beating against head winds
between opposing shores. It has stood on one tack to avoid Arianism or
Tritheism, till it finds itself running into Sabellianism; then it goes
about, and stands away till it comes near Arianism or Tritheism again.
Unitarianism is on both sides: on one side in the form of one God, with a
threefold manifestation of himself; on the other side in the form of a
Supreme God, with the Son and Spirit subordinate. It has always been very
hard to be Orthodox; for, to do so, one must distinguish the Persons, and
yet not divide the substance, of the Deity. In keeping the three Persons
distinctly separate, there was great danger of making three distinct Gods.
On the other hand, if one tried to make the Unity distinct, there was
danger that the Persons would grow shadowy, and disappear.
The heaviest charge against the Church doctrine of the Trinity is, that,
driven to despair by these difficulties, it has at last made Orthodoxy
consist, not in any sound belief, but only in sound phrases. It is not
believing anything, but saying something, which now makes a man Orthodox.
If you will only use the _word_ “Trinity” in any sense, if you will only
call Christ God in any sense, you are Orthodox.
§ 3. Errors in the Church Doctrine of the Trinity.
The errors in the popular view concerning the Trinity, as it is at present
held, appear to be these:—
1. _The Trinity is held as a mere dogma_, or form of words, not as a
reality. It is held in the letter, not in the spirit. There is no power in
it, nor life in it; and it is in no sense an object of faith to those who
accept it. They do not believe it, but rather believe that they ought to
believe it. There are certain texts in Scripture which seem to assert it,
certain elaborate arguments which appear convincing and irrefutable. On
the strength of these texts and these arguments, they believe that they
ought to believe it. But it is a matter of conscience, not of heart; of
logic, not of life; of law, not of love. It is not held as a Christian
doctrine ought to be held, with the heart; but only philosophically, with
the head. If it should cease to be preached for a few years in Orthodox
pulpits, it would cease to be believed; it would drop out of the faith, or
rather out of the creed, of the community. Unitarianism has extended
itself, without being preached, from the simple reading of the Bible. But
Trinitarianism cannot be trusted to its own power. It has no hold on the
heart. Here, in Massachusetts, the ministers left off preaching the
Trinity, and the consequence was, that the people became Unitarian.
Unitarianism in New England was not diffused by preaching: it came of
itself, as soon as the clergy left off preaching the Trinity. This shows
how worthless, empty, and soulless the doctrine was and is. Instead of
this formal doctrine, we want something vital.
2. _Another objection to the present form of the Trinity is, that it is
not only scholastic, or purely intellectual, but that it is also
negative._ It is not even a positive doctrine. It is often charged against
Unitarianism, that it is a mere negation; and, in one sense, the charge is
well founded. Unitarianism is a negation, so far as it is a mere piece of
reasoning against Orthodoxy; but, as asserting the divine Unity, it is
very positive, But the doctrine of the Trinity _is_ a mere negation, as it
is usually held; because it is an empty form of denial. It only can be
defined or expressed negatively. The three Persons are not substances, on
the one hand; nor qualities, on the other hand. It is not Sabellianism,
nor is it Arianism. Every term connected with the Trinity has been
selected, not to express a truth, but to avoid an error. The term “one
essence” was chosen in order to exclude Arianism; the term “three
Persons,” or subsistences, was chosen in order to avoid Sabellianism.
Because the doctrine is thus a negation, it has failed of its chief use.
It has become exclusive; whereas, when stated truly, as a positive truth,
it would become inclusive. Rightly stated, it would bind together all true
religion in one harmonious whole, comprehending in its universal sweep
everything true in natural religion, everything true in reason, and
uniting them in vital union, without discord and without confusion. Every
manifestation which God has made of himself in nature, in Christ, and in
the human soul, would be accepted and vitally recognized by Christianity,
which comes, not to destroy, but to fulfil. The doctrine of the Trinity
would be the highest form of reconciliation or atonement,—reconciling all
varieties in one great harmony; reconciling the natural and supernatural,
law and grace, time and eternity, fate and freedom.
But, before illustrating this, we must consider further some of the
objections to the common form of the doctrine.
3. _It is also charged against the doctrine of the Trinity, __“__that it
is a contradiction in terms, and therefore essentially incredible.__”_ To
this it is replied, that it would be a contradiction if God were called
Three _in the same sense_ in which he is called One; but not otherwise.
The answer is perfectly satisfactory; and we therefore proceed to ask, In
what sense is he called Three, and in what sense is he called One? The
answer is, The Unity is of essence, or substance: the Trinity is of
persons. This answer, again, is satisfactory, provided we know what is
meant by these two terms. But the difficulty is to know what is meant by
the word “person.” We are expressly informed, that this term is not used
in its usual sense; for, if it were, it would divide the essence, and
three Persons would be the same as three Gods. On the other hand, we are
told that it means more than the three characters or manifestations. Here
lies the difficulty, and the whole of the rational difficulty, in the
doctrine of the Trinity. It is all on the side of the Triad. When we ask,
What do you mean by “the three”? there can be given but three answers,—two
of them distinct, and one indistinct. These answers are, (1.) We mean
three somethings, which we cannot define; (2.) We mean three Persons, like
Peter, James, and John; (3.) We mean three manifestations, characters, or
modes of being. Let us consider these three answers.
(_a._) “The three Persons are three somethings, which cannot be defined.
It is a mystery. It is above reason. There is mystery in everything, and
there must be mystery in the Deity.” So Augustine said, long ago, “We say
three Persons, not because we have anything to say, but because we want to
say something.”(85) But if one uses the phrase “three Persons,” and
refuses to define it positively, merely defining it negatively, saying,
“It does not mean this, and it does not mean that, and I don’t know what
it does mean,” he avoids, it is true, the difficulties, and escapes the
objections; but he does it by giving up the article of faith. No one can
deny that there _may be_ three unknown distinctions in the divine nature;
but no one can be asked to believe in them, till he is told what they are.
To say, therefore, that the Trinity is a mystery, is to abandon it as an
article of faith, and make of it only a subject of speculation. We avoid
the contradiction; but we do it by relinquishing the doctrine.
This fact is not sufficiently considered by Trinitarians. They first
demand of us to believe the doctrine of the Trinity, and, when pressed to
state distinctly the doctrine, retire into the protection of mystery, and
decline giving any distinct account of it. Now, no human being ever denied
the existence of mysteries connected with God, and nature, and all life.
To assure us, therefore, that such mysteries exist, is slightly
superfluous. But, on the other hand, no human being ever _believed_, or
could _believe_, a mystery, any more than he could see anything invisible
or hear anything inaudible. To believe a doctrine, the first condition is,
that all its terms shall be distinct and intelligible.
(_b._) The second answer to the question is, “We mean, by Persons, three
Persons, like Peter, James, and John.” According to this answer, the
_Trinity_ remains, but the _Unity_ disappears. This answer leaves the
Persons distinct, but the Unity indistinct. The Persons are not
confounded; but the essence is divided. The Tri-personality is maintained,
but at the expense of the Unity. In fact, this answer gives us Tritheism,
or three Gods, whose unity is only an entire _agreement_ of feeling and
action. But this answer we may set aside as unorthodox, no less than
unscriptural.
(_c._) Having thus disposed of each other possible answer, there remains
only that which makes of the three Persons three revelations or
manifestations of God, or representations of God. This answer avoids all
the difficulties. It avoids that of _contradiction_; as we do not say that
God is one in the same sense in which he is three, but in a different
sense. It avoids the objection of _obscurity_; for it is a distinct
statement. It avoids the objection of Tritheism; for it leaves the Unity
untouched. Moreover, it is a real Trinity, and not merely nominal. The
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are not merely three different names
for the same thing, but they indicate three different revelations, three
different views which God has given of his character, which, taken
together, constitute the total divine representation. It remains,
therefore, simply to ask, Is this view _a true one_? Is there any
foundation for it in Scripture, in reason, and in Christian consciousness,
the three sources of our knowledge of the truth?
§ 4. The Trinity of Manifestations founded in the Truth of Things.
We repeat, that this view is an Orthodox view of the Trinity, according to
the teaching of the greatest fathers of the Church. If we suppose that the
Deity has made, and is evermore making, three distinct and independent
revelations of himself,—each revelation giving a different view of the
divine Being, each revelation showing God to man under a different
aspect,—then each of these is a personal manifestation. Each reveals God
as a Person. If we see God, for example, in nature, we see him not merely
as a power, a supreme cause, but also a living Person, who creates
evermore out of a fulness of divine wisdom and love. God in nature is,
then, a Person. Again: if God reveals himself in Christ, it is not as
abstract truth or as doctrinal statement. But we see God himself, the
personal God, the Father and Friend, the redeeming grace, the God who
loved us before the foundation of the world, approaching us in Christ to
reconcile us and save us. It is a God who “so loved the world” that we see
in Christ, therefore, a Person. And so the Spirit, which speaks in the
human conscience and human heart, is not a mere influence, or rapture, or
movement, but is one who communes with us; one who talks with us; one who
comforts us; one who hears and answers us; therefore a Person.
If, then, there is no antecedent objection to this form of the Trinity as
a threefold manifestation of the divine Being, we have only to ask, Is it
_true_ as a matter of fact? Has such a threefold manifestation of God
actually taken place? We reply, that it is so. According to Scripture,
observation, and experience, we find such to be the fact. Scripture shows
us God, the Father, as the source of all being, the fountain and end of
all things; from whom all things have come, and to whom all things tend.
As the Creator, he reveals himself in nature and providence (as the
apostle Paul declares), “being understood by the things that are made,”
and “not leaving himself without a witness.”
Supreme power, wisdom, and goodness are manifested in nature as unchanging
law, as perfect order. But God is seen in Christ again as Redeemer, as
meeting the exigencies arising from the freedom of the creature by what we
call miracle; not contrary to nature, but different from nature, showing
himself as the Friend and Helper of the soul. As the essence of the first
revelation of God is the sight of his goodness, and wisdom, and power,
displayed in law, so the essence of the second revelation is of the same
essential Being displaying himself as love. In the first revelation, he is
the universal Parent; in the second, he is the personal Friend. But there
is a third revelation which God makes of himself,—within the soul as life.
The same power, wisdom, and goodness which we see displayed externally in
outward nature, we find manifested internally in the soul itself, as its
natural and its spiritual life. That which is displayed outwardly as power
is manifested within the soul as cause; that which is manifested outwardly
as wisdom is revealed inwardly as reason; and that which is manifested
outwardly as goodness is manifested inwardly as conscience, or the law of
right.
§ 5. It is in Harmony with Scripture.
The Scriptures also speak of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. When
they speak of the Father, they usually mean God as the Supreme Being.
Matt. 11:25: “Jesus said, I thank thee, _O Father_, Lord of heaven and
earth.” As omniscient: “Of that day knoweth no man, nor the angels, nor
the Son, but _the Father_ only.” As omnipotent: “Abba, _Father_, all
things are possible to thee.” As having life in himself, and as spirit:
“They shall worship _the Father_ in spirit and in truth.” As the source of
all power, life, and authority of the Son: “I came forth _of the Father_;”
“_the Father_, which hath sent me;” “the works which _the Father_ hath
given me to do.” The apostle Paul says, “To us there is but _one God, the
Father_;” and calls him “the God of our Lord Jesus;” also “the one God
_and Father_ of all, who is above all, and through all, and in us all.”
The great order of the universe depends on him: “He has put the times and
the seasons in his own power.” Christ will at last “deliver up the kingdom
to God, _the Father_.” By Christ, “we have access in one spirit _to the
Father_.” “All things were delivered” to Christ “of _his Father_,” whose
will Christ always sought. Thus is _the Father_ spoken of in the New
Testament as the Source from which all things have proceeded, and the End
to whom all things tend.
_The Son_ (or Son of God) is spoken of in the New Testament as distinct
from the Father, but intimately united with him. The Father gives power;
the Son receives it. The Father gives light; the Son receives it. The Son
does nothing but what he seeth the Father do. “The Father hath sent me,”
he says, “and I live by the Father.” “I am not alone; but I, and the
Father who sent me.” “The Son is in the Father, and the Father in him.”
“No man cometh to the Father but by” him. He shows the Father to the
world. The Father is glorified in the Son. He is in the bosom of the
Father. The Father sent him to be the Saviour of the world. “He that hath
the Son hath life;” “And in him is everlasting life.”
_The Holy Spirit_, which came after Jesus left the world (also called the
Holy Ghost and the Spirit of God), is an inward revelation of God and of
Christ. It teaches all things, comforts, convinces. It is a spirit of
life, lifts one above the flesh, makes one feel that he is a Son of God,
communicates a variety of gifts, produces unity in the Church, sanctifies,
sheds the love of God into the heart, and renews the soul. The New
Testament speaks of joy in the Holy Ghost, power of the Holy Ghost, and
communion of the Holy Ghost.
According to the New Testament, the Father would seem to be the Source of
all things, the Creator, the Fountain of being and of life. The Son is
spoken of as the manifestation of that Being in Jesus Christ; and the Holy
Ghost is spoken of as a spiritual influence, proceeding from the Father
and the Son, dwelling in the hearts of believers, as the source of their
life,—the idea of God seen in causation, in reason, and in conscience, as
making the very life of the soul itself.
There are these three revelations of God, and we know of no others. They
are distinct from each other in form, but the same in essence. They are
not merely three names for the same thing; but they are real personal
manifestations of God, real subsistences, since he is personally present
in all of them. This view avoids all heresies, since it neither “divides
the substance” nor “confounds the persons.” And these are really the two
heresies, which are the most common and the most to be avoided. We think
it can be easily shown that these are the great practical dangers to be
avoided. To “divide the substance” is so to separate the revelations of
God as to make them contradict or oppose each other: to “confound the
persons” is not to recognize each as an independent source of truth to the
soul.
§ 6. Practical value of the Trinity, when rightly understood.
There is, therefore, an essential truth hidden in the idea of the Trinity.
While the Church doctrine, in every form which it has hitherto taken, has
failed to satisfy the human intellect, the Christian heart has clung to
the substance contained in them all. Let us endeavor to see what is the
practical value of this doctrine, for the sake of which its errors of
statement have been pardoned. What does it say to the Christian
consciousness?
The Trinity, truly apprehended, teaches, by its doctrine of
Tri-personality, that God is _immanent_ in nature, in Christ, and in the
soul. It teaches that God is not _outside_ of the world, making it as an
artisan makes a machine; nor _outside_ of Christ, sending him, and giving
to him miraculous powers; nor outside of the soul, touching it _ab extra_
from time to time with unnatural influences, revolutionizing and
overturning it; but that he is personally present in each and all. So
that, when we study the mysteries and laws of nature, we are drawing near
to God himself, and looking into his face. When we see Christ, we see God,
who is in Christ; and when we look into the solemn intuitions of our soul,
the monitions of conscience, and the influences which draw our heart to
goodness, we are meeting and communing with God.
Moreover, the Trinity, truly apprehended, teaches, by its doctrine of _One
Substance_ (the Homoousion), that these three revelations, though
distinct, are essentially at one; that nature cannot contradict
revelation; that revelation cannot contradict nature; and that the
intuitions of the soul cannot be in conflict with either. Hence it teaches
that the Naturalist need not fear revelation; nor the Christian believer,
natural Theism. Since it is one and the same God who dwells in nature, in
Christ, and in the soul, all his revelations must be in harmony with each
other. To suppose otherwise is to “divide the substance” of the Trinity.
And again: the Trinity, rightly understood, asserts the distinctness of
these three personal revelations. It is the same God who speaks in each;
but he says something new each time. He reveals a new form of his being.
He shows us, not the same order and aspect of truth in each manifestation,
but wholly different aspects.
And yet again: as the doctrine teaches that the Son is begotten of the
Father, and the Spirit proceeds from the Father and Son, it thereby shows
how the revelation in nature prepares for the revelation in Christ, and
both for the revelation in the soul.
The error of “dividing the substance” is perhaps the most common. The man
who sees God in nature, sees him only there: therefore God loses to him
that personal character which seems especially to be seen through Christ;
for God, as a person, comes to us most in Christ, and then is recognized
also in nature and the soul as a personal being. So, without Christ,
natural religion is cold: it wants love; it wants life. But, on the other
hand, the Christian believer who avoids seeing God in nature, and who
finds him only in his Bible, loses the sense of law or order, of
harmonious growth, and becomes literal, dogmatic, and narrow. And so, too,
the mystic, believing only in God’s revelation through the soul, and not
going to nature or to Christ, becomes withdrawn from life, and has a
morbid and ghastly religion, and, having no test by which to judge his
inward revelations, may become the prey of all fantasies and all evil
spirits, lying spirits, foul spirits, and cruel spirits.
Such errors come from “dividing the substance;” and they are only too
common. So that, when the true doctrine of Trinity in Unity is
apprehended, the most beneficial results may be expected to flow into the
life of the Church. No longer believed as a dead formula, no longer held
in the letter which killeth, no longer accepted outwardly as a dogma or
authority, but seen, felt, and realized in the daily activity of the
intellect and heart, the whole Church will recover its lost union, sects
will disappear, and the old feud between science and religion forever
cease. Science will become religious, and religion scientific. Science, no
longer cold and dead, but filled through and through with the life of God,
will reach its hand to Christianity. Piety, no longer an outlaw from
nature, no longer exiled from life into churches and monasteries, will
inform and animate all parts of human daily action. Christianity, no
longer narrow, Jewish, bigoted, formal, but animated by the great liberty
of a common life, will march onward to conquer all forms of error and evil
in the omnipotence of universal and harmonious truth.
Natural religion, Christianity, and spiritual piety, being thus
harmonized, nature will be more warm, Christ more human, and the divine
influences in the soul more uniform and constant. Nature will be full of
God, with a sense of his presence penetrating it everywhere. Christianity
will become more natural, and all its great facts assume the proportion of
laws, universal as the universe itself. Divine influences will cease to be
spasmodic and irregular, and become calm, serene, and pure, an indwelling
life of God in the soul.
A simple Unity, as held by the Jews and Mohammedans, and by some Christian
Unitarians, may be a bald Unity and an empty Unity. Then it shows us one
God, but God withdrawn from nature, from Christ, from the soul; not
immanent in any, but outside of them. It leaves nature godless; leaves
Christ _merely_ human; leaves the soul a machine to be moved by an
external impulse, not an inward inspiration.(86)
We conclude, finally, that no doctrine of Orthodoxy is so false in its
form, and so true in its substance, as this. There is none so untenable as
dogma, but none so indispensable as experience and life. The Trinity,
truly received, would harmonize science, faith, and vital piety. The
Trinity, as it now stands in the belief of Christendom, at once confuses
the mind, and leaves it empty. It feeds us with chaff, with empty phrases
and forms, with no real inflowing convictions. It seems to lie like a
vessel on the shore, of no use where it is, yet difficult to remove and
get afloat; but when the tide rises, and the vessel floats, it will be
able to bear to and fro the knowledge of mankind, and unite various
convictions in living harmony. It is there for something. It is
providentially allowed to remain in the creeds of the Church for
something. It has in itself the seed of a grand future; and, though
utterly false and empty as it is taught and defended, it is kept by the
deeper instinct of the Christian consciousness, like the Christ in his
tomb, waiting for the resurrection.
APPENDIX. CRITICAL NOTICES.
In this Appendix we shall add a brief critical examination of certain
recent works on points connected with our previous subjects. These
criticisms will complete the discussion in these various directions, so
far as space will allow here. The largest part of what follows has been
printed already, either in the “Christian Examiner,” or in the “Monthly
Journal of the American Unitarian Association.”
§ 1. On the Defence of Nescience in Theology, by Herbert Spencer and Henry
L. Mansel.
Mr. Herbert Spencer, in his book called “First Principles,” lays down the
doctrine of theological nescience, as the final result of religious
inquiry. In his chapter on “Ultimate Religious Ideas” he argues thus: The
religious problem is, Whence comes the universe? In answer to this
question only three statements are possible. It is self-existent. It was
self-created. It was created by external agency. Now, none of these, says
Spencer, is tenable. For, (1.) Self-existence means simply an existence
without a beginning, and it is not possible to conceive of this. The
conception of infinite past time is an impossibility. (2.) Self-creation
is Pantheism. We can conceive, somewhat, of self-evolution, but not of a
potential universe passing into an actual one. (3.) The theistic
hypothesis is equally inconceivable. For this is to suppose the world made
as a workman makes a piece of furniture. We can conceive of this last,
because the workman has the material given; he only adds form to the
substance. To produce matter out of nothing is the real difficulty. No
simile enables us to conceive of this production of matter out of nothing.
Again, says Spencer, space is something, the non-existence of which is
inconceivable; hence the creation of space is inconceivable. And lastly,
says Spencer, if God created the universe, the question returns, Whence
came God? The same three answers recur. God was self-existent, or he was
self-created, or he was created _ab extra_. The last theory is useless.
For it leads to an endless series of potential existences. So the theist
returns to self-existence; which, however, says Spencer, is as
inconceivable as a self-existent universe, involving the inconceivable
idea of unlimited duration.
Nevertheless, continues Spencer, we are compelled to regard phenomena as
effects of some cause. We must believe in a cause of that cause, till we
reach a _first cause_. The First Cause must be infinite and absolute. He
then follows Mansel in showing the contradiction between the two ideas.
But total negation is not the result,—only nescience. Atheism, Pantheism,
and Theism agree in one belief, namely, that of a problem to be solved. An
unknown God is the highest result of theology and of philosophy. “If
religion and science are to be reconciled, the basis of the reconciliation
must be their deepest, widest, and most certain of all facts—that the
power which the universe manifests is utterly inscrutable.”
Thus Mr. Spencer proposes to take back human thought eighteen centuries,
and ignoring the conquests of Christian faith in civilization, theology,
and morals, carries us to Athens, in the time of Paul, to worship at the
altar of an unknown God. He makes a solitude in the soul, and calls it
peace. He makes peace between religion and science, by commanding the
first to surrender at discretion to the other. Science knows nothing of
God; therefore theology must know nothing of God. But not so. Let each
impart to the other that which it possesses, and which the other lacks.
Let science enlarge theology with the idea of law, and theology inform
science with the idea of a living God.
It is not difficult to detect the fallacies in this argument of Spencer
for religious nescience. His notion of conception is that of a purely
sensible image. He assumes that we have no knowledge but sensible
knowledge, and then easily infers that we do not know God. We can
conceive, he says, of a rock on which we are standing, but not of the
whole earth. No great magnitudes, he declares, can be conceived. The
conception of infinite time is, therefore, an impossibility.
But it is clear to any one, not bound hand and foot by the assumptions of
sensationalism, that it is just as easy to conceive of the whole globe of
earth, as of the piece of it which we see. We cannot have _a visual image_
of the whole earth, indeed, but the mental conception of the globe is as
distinct as that of the stone we throw from our hand. And so far from the
conception of infinite duration being an impossibility, not to conceive of
time and space as infinite is the impossibility. It is impossible to
imagine or conceive of the beginning of time, or the commencement of
space.
Looking at his trilemma concerning the universe, namely, that it was
either, (1.) Self-existent, (2.) Self-created, or, (3.) Created by an
external power, we say,—
1. The real objection to a self-existent universe, is not that we cannot
conceive of existence without beginning. Nothing is easier than to
conceive of an everlasting, unchanging universe, without beginning or end.
It is not existence, but change, that suggests cause. Phenomena, events,
require us to believe in some power which produces them. Now, the events
which take place in the universe suggest an intelligent, absolute, and
central cause, that is, a cause combining supreme wisdom, power, and
goodness. A self-existent universe is not inconceivable, but it is
incredible.
2. Self-creation, he objects, is Pantheism. But this is no reason for
denying it, since Pantheism may, for all we see at this stage of the
argument, be the true explanation of the universe. The real objection to
the hypothesis of a self-created universe (or of a self-created God), is
that it involves the contradiction of something which exists and which
does not exist at the same moment; at the moment of self-creation, the
universe must exist in order to create, but must be non-existent in order
to be created. A self-created universe, then, is not incredible because it
involves Pantheism, but because it involves a contradiction.
3. He objects to the Theistic hypothesis, that we cannot conceive of the
production of matter (more strictly, of substance) out of nothing. He adds
that no simile can enable us to imagine it.
But I can produce, out of nothing, something visible, tangible, and
audible. There is no motion and no sound. I move my arm by the power of
will, and I produce both sound and motion. The motion of a body in space
is a material phenomenon; for whatever is perceived by the senses is
material. We do then constantly perceive material phenomena created out of
nothing, by human will.
His argument against the Theist, that space could not have been created by
God, since its non-existence is inconceivable, is much more plausible. But
suppose we grant that space, supposed to be a real existence, was not
created in time. Does it follow from that, that it does not proceed from
God? Not being an event in time, it does not require a cause; but being
conceived of as a reality, it may have eternally proceeded from the divine
will, and so not be independent of the Creator.
And as regards his trilemma concerning Deity, that also fails in the
failure of his thesis that eternal duration is inconceivable. His argument
against the self-existent Deity, only rests on that assumption which we
have shown to be untenable.
But Mr. Spencer, who is not a theologian, is at this point reënforced by
Mr. Mansel, on whose former work, “The Limits of Religious Thought,” we
proceed to offer some criticism. This also is an argument for nescience in
theology, in the presumed interests of revelation. Mr. Martineau has ably
shown the weakness and the dangerous tendency of this whole argument of
Mansel, in an article to which we earnestly refer our readers.
The work of Mr. Mansel is a desperate attempt to save Orthodox doctrines
from the objections of reason, not by replying to those objections and
pointing out their fallacy, but by showing that similar objections can be
brought against all religious belief. For example, when reason objects to
the Trinity, that it is a contradiction, Mr. Mansel does not attempt to
show that it is _not_ a contradiction, but argues that our belief in God
is another contradiction of the same kind. His inference therefore is,
that as we believe in God, notwithstanding the contradiction, we ought to
believe in the Trinity also, notwithstanding the contradiction. If we
believe one, we may believe both.
But this is a dangerous argument; since it is evident that one might
reply, that there remains another alternative; which is, to believe
_neither_. If Mr. Mansel succeeds in convincing his readers, the result
may be a belief in the Trinity, or it may be a disbelief in God
altogether; one of two things—either a return to Orthodoxy, or a departure
from all religion. Either they will renounce reason in order to retain
religion, or they will renounce religion in order to retain reason.
At the very best, also, the help which this argument offers us is to be
paid for somewhat dearly. It proposes to save Orthodoxy by giving up the
use of reason in religion. Mr. Mansel would say, “by giving up the
unlimited use of reason;” but, as we shall presently see, this comes very
much to the same thing at last.
What, then, is the nature of Mr. Mansel’s argument? It is an argument
founded upon Sir William Hamilton’s philosophy of the Unconditioned. Now,
this has been generally considered the weak side of Hamilton’s system.
According to him, the unconditioned is inconceivable: in other words, of
the Absolute and Infinite we have no conception at all. But this denies to
man the power of conceiving of God, and so leads directly to Atheism. This
charge has already been brought against Hamilton’s philosophy, in various
quarters; for example, in the “North British Review ” for May, 1835. But
we will not here attempt any examination of Hamilton’s theory, but confine
ourselves to Mr. Mansel.
The argument of Mansel is this (p. 75): “To conceive the Deity as he is,
we must conceive him as First Cause, as Absolute, and as Infinite. By the
First Cause is meant that which produces all things, and is itself
produced of none; by the Absolute is meant that which exists in and by
itself, having no necessary relation to any other being; by the Infinite
is meant that which is free from all possible limitation.”
Having thus defined the Deity as the First Cause, the Absolute, and the
Infinite, Mansel goes on to show that these ideas are mutually
contradictory and destructive. A First Cause necessarily supposes effects,
and therefore cannot be absolute: nor can the Infinite be a person; for
personality is a limitation. By a course of such arguments as these,
Mansel endeavors to show that the reason is as incapable of conceiving God
as it is of conceiving the Trinity, the Atonement, or any other Orthodox
doctrine; and since we do not renounce our belief in God because of these
contradictions, neither ought we, because of similar contradictions, to
renounce our belief in the Trinity.
Such is the substance of Mansel’s statement, though the arguments by which
it is proved are varied with great ingenuity and to great extent. This
course of thought is by no means original, either with Mr. Mansel or Sir
William Hamilton. A far greater thinker than either of them (Immanuel
Kant) had long before shown the logical contradictions of the
understanding in what he called the Antinomies of the pure reason. But the
important question is, If the reason contradicts itself thus in its
conception of Deity, how are we to obtain a ground for our belief in God?
Mansel answers, “Through revelation; that is, through the direct
declarations of Scripture.” This he calls faith. We are to believe in a
personal God on the ground of a Bible confirmed by miracles.
This result is so strange, that it may well seem incredible. Yet we cannot
think that we have misrepresented the tendency of the argument; though, of
course, we have given no ideas of the acuteness and flexibility of the
reasoning, the extent of the knowledge, and mastery of logic, in this
work. That such a position should be taken by a religious man, in the
supposed interest of Christianity, is sufficiently strange; for it seems
to us equally untenable in its grounds, unfounded in its statements, empty
of insight, destructive in its results. We will add, very briefly, a few
of the criticisms which occur to us.
The first thing which strikes us in the argument is, that everywhere it
deals with words rather than with things. The whole object of the
discussion concerns the meaning of terms, and it deals throughout with the
relation of words to other words. It is an acute philological argument. We
feel ourselves to be arguing about forms, and not about substances. Now,
such arguments may confuse, but they cannot convince. We do not know,
perhaps, what to say in reply; but we remain unsatisfied. One not used to
logic may listen to an argument which shall conclusively prove that white
is black; that nothing is greater than something; that a man who jumps
from the top of the house can never reach the ground; but, though the
thing is proved, he is not convinced. So, when Mr. Mansel proves to us
that we cannot conceive of a Being who is at the same time Infinite and
Personal, we are unable, perhaps, to reply to the argument; but we know it
to be false, since we actually have the two conceptions in our mind.
We _do_ conceive of the Deity as an infinite personality. Of what use to
tell us that we _cannot_ have an idea, when we know that we _do_ have it?
Mansel tells us that we cannot think the idea of the Infinite and
Absolute. He says (p. 110), “The Absolute and the Infinite are thus, like
the Inconceivable and Imperceptible, names indicating, not an object of
thought or of consciousness at all, but the mere absence of the conditions
under which consciousness is possible.”
But, then, they are only words, with no meaning attached; and, if so, how
can we argue about them at all? All argument must cease when we come to an
unmeaning phrase; therefore the existence of Mr. Mansel’s argument proves
the falsehood of his assertion. Since he argues about the Infinite, it is
evident that he has the idea of the Infinite in his mind.
Mr. Mansel agrees in principle wholly with the Atheists; for the Atheists
do not say that God does not exist, or that God cannot exist, but that we
cannot know that he exists. So says Mr. Holyoake, a leading modern
Atheist. This is what Mansel also asserts, only he goes farther than they,
contending that the very idea of God is impossible to the human reason. It
is true that he believes in God on grounds of revelation, which the
Atheists do not; but he agrees with them in setting aside all natural and
reasonable knowledge of Deity.
But how is it possible to obtain an idea of God from revelation, if we are
before destitute of such an idea? When Paul preached to the Athenians, he
addressed them as having already a true, though an imperfect, idea of God.
“Whom, therefore, ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you.” But, if
they had not already an idea of God, how could he have given them such an
idea? Suppose that he works a miracle, and says, “This miracle proves that
God has sent me to teach you.” But, by the supposition, they know nothing
about God; consequently, they have nothing by which to test the truth of a
revelation professing to come from him. Neither miracles, nor the nature
of the truth taught, nor the character of the teacher, avail anything as
evidence of a revelation from a Being of whom we know nothing. Without a
previous knowledge of God, only immediate revelation is possible.
Mr. Mansel, therefore, is one who, without a foundation, builds a house on
the sand. He attempts to erect faith in God after taking away the
foundation of reason. The apostles built revealed religion upon natural
religion, revealed theology upon natural theology, according to the rule,
“That is not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural;
afterward that which is spiritual.” Christ said, “Ye believe in God:
believe also in me.” Mr. Mansel reverses all this, and makes Christ say,
“Ye believe in me: believe also in God.”
But, even if it were possible to ascend to belief in God through belief in
Christ, we must ask, Is not belief thought? If the mind cannot _think_ the
Infinite, how can it believe the Infinite? Must we not apprehend a
proposition before we can believe it? Does not the conception of a thing
logically precede the belief of it? If it is impossible to apprehend the
Absolute, if this is only an empty name, how is it possible to believe in
the Absolute on grounds of revelation, or on any other grounds? A miracle
cannot communicate to the mind an idea which is beyond its power of
conception.
Mr. Mansel declares that our religious knowledge is _regulative_, but not
_speculative_.
He lays great stress on this distinction: by which he means that we have
ideas of the Deity sufficient to guide our practice, but not to satisfy
our intellect; which tell us, not what God is in himself, but how he
_wills_ that we should think of him. According to this view, all
revelation is overturned, just as all natural religion has been previously
overturned. Revelation does not reveal God on this theory. We have no
knowledge of God in the gospel, any more than we had in nature. Instead of
knowledge, we have only law. But this seems to despoil Christianity of its
vital force. Christ says, “This is life eternal, to _know_ thee, the only
true God.” But Mr. Mansel tells us that such knowledge of God is
impossible. Therefore, instead of the gospel, he gives us the law; for it
is certain that his _regulative_ truths are simply moral precepts,
addressed to the will, not to the intellect; capable of being obeyed, but
not of being understood.
The radical error of Mansel seems to be this,—that his mind works only in
the logical region belonging to the understanding, and is ignorant of
those higher truths which are beheld by the reason. He has tried to find
God by logical processes, and, of course, has failed. He therefore
concludes that God cannot be known by the intellect. He has fully
demonstrated that God cannot be comprehended by the logical understanding;
and in this he has done a good work. But he has not shown that God cannot
be known by the intuitive reason. The understanding comprehends: the
reason apprehends. The understanding perceives the form: reason takes
holds of the substance. The understanding sees how things are related to
each other: the reason sees how things are in themselves. The
understanding cannot, therefore, see the infinite and absolute; cannot
apprehend substance or cause; knows nothing of the eternal. But the reason
is as certain of cause as of effect; knows eternity as really as it knows
time; it is as sure of the existence of spirit as it is of matter; and
sees the infinite to be as real as the finite. Therefore, though we cannot
comprehend God by logic, we can apprehend him by reason. We can be as sure
of his being as we are of our own, and we are not obliged to explain away
all those profound scriptures which teach us that the object and end of
our being is to know God.
Since, therefore, Mr. Mansel’s argument, with all its acuteness, learning,
and honesty, tends directly to Atheism; since, by overturning the
foundation of Christianity, it overturns Christianity itself; since it
substitutes mere moral laws in place of the vital forces of the gospel,—it
is no wonder that its positions have been rejected with much unanimity by
the most eminent Orthodox scholars. Its defence of Orthodoxy costs too
much. Leading thinkers of very different schools—for example, Mr.
Brownson, the Roman Catholic, in his “Quarterly Review;” Professor Hickok,
the Presbyterian, in the “Bibliotheca Sacra;” and Mr. Maurice, of the
Church of England, in an able pamphlet—have opposed with great force the
arguments and conclusions of this volume. It is true that some Orthodox
divines consider that Mr. Mansel has _demonstrated_ that the human
consciousness is unequal to the speculative conception of a Being at once
absolute, infinite, and personal, and seem gladly to have the aid of this
book in defending the Trinity. But the more distinguished and experienced
thinkers mentioned above are cautious of accepting the help of so
dangerous an ally.
§ 2. On the Defence of Verbal Inspiration by Gaussen.
Following the declaration of the apostle Paul, that “the letter killeth,”
we have, in the text of this volume, set aside all the theories of the
Bible which assume its absolute and literal infallibility. But within a
few years, a work in defence of this doctrine has been published abroad,
by an excellent man, M. Gaussen, of Geneva, and translated and republished
in America by Rev. Dr. Kirk, of Boston. Such a work, coming from such
sources, deserves some examination. We shall, therefore, show the course
of argument followed in this book, and the reasons which lead us to
consider its conclusions unsound, and its reasoning inadequate.
Inspiration, as defined by Gaussen, is “that inexplicable power which the
divine Spirit formerly exercised over the authors of the Holy Scriptures,
to guide them even in the employment of the words they were to use, and to
preserve them from all error, as well as from every omission.
“We aim,” says he, “to establish, by the word of God, that the Scriptures
are from God—that all the Scriptures are from God—and that every part of
the Scripture is from God.”
Let us consider the arguments in support of this kind of inspiration, and
the objections to them.
_Argument I. Plenary Inspiration is necessary, that we may know with
certainty what we ought to believe._
Great stress is laid upon this supposed _necessity_, both by Gaussen and
Kirk.
“The book so written,” say they, “is the Word of God, and binds the
conscience of the world; and nothing else does so bind it, even though it
were the writings of Paul and Peter.
“With the Infidel, whether he be Christian in name or otherwise, the sharp
sword of a perfect inspiration will be found, at last, indispensable. If
the ground is conceded to him that there is a single passage in the Bible
that is not divine, then we are disarmed; for he will be sure to apply
this privilege to the very passages which most fully oppose his pride,
passion, and error. How is the conscience of a wicked race to be bound
down by a chain, one link of which is weak?”
_Reply to Argument I._—It is no way to prove a theory _true_ to assume its
_necessity_. The only legitimate proof of a theory is by an induction of
facts. This method of beginning by a supposed necessity, this looking
first at consequences, has always been fruitful of false and empty
theories. The great advance in modern science has come from substituting
the inductive for the ideological method. Find what the facts say, and the
consequences will take care of themselves. An argument from consequences
is usually only an appeal to prejudices.
Again: This argument is fatal to the arguments drawn from the Scriptures
themselves. In arguing from the Scripture to prove that every passage is
divine, we have, of course, no right to assume that every passage is
divine, for that is the very thing to be proved. Then the texts which we
quote to prove our position may themselves not be divine, and if we grant
that, “we are disarmed.” For, according to this argument, nothing can be
proved conclusively from Scripture except we believe in plenary
inspiration—then plenary inspiration itself cannot be proved from
Scripture. But Gaussen admits that this doctrine can be proved “only by
the Scriptures;” therefore (according to this argument) it cannot be
proved at all.
If, therefore, the doctrine of plenary inspiration is necessary “to bind
the conscience of the world,” it is a doctrine incapable of proof. If, on
the other hand, it can be proved, it is then clearly not necessary “to
bind the conscience of the world.”
But again. This theory of plenary inspiration does _not_ bind the
consciences of men. If men are naturally disposed (as Messrs. Gaussen and
Kirk maintain) to deny and disbelieve the doctrines and statements of the
Bible, they have ample opportunity of doing so, notwithstanding their
belief in this theory. For, after admitting that the words of Scripture,
just as they stand, are perfectly true and given by God, the question
comes, What do they mean? For instance, I wish, we will suppose, to deny
the doctrine of the Deity of Christ. Now, you quote to me the text Rom.
9:5. “Of whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came, who is over all, God,
blessed forever,”—which is the strongest text in the Bible in support of
that doctrine. Now, though I believe in the doctrine of plenary
inspiration, I am not obliged to accept this passage as proof of the Deity
of Christ. For I can, 1. Assert that the verse is an interpolation; 2.
Assert that it is wrongly pointed; 3. Assert that it is mistranslated; 4.
Assert that Christ is called God in an inferior sense, as God over the
Church. And, as a matter of fact, these are the arguments always used,
even by those who deny the doctrine of a plenary inspiration. They seldom
or never accuse the writer of a mistake, but always rely on a supposed
mistranslation, or misinterpretation, in order to avoid the force of a
passage. Hence, also, we find believers in this doctrine of plenary
inspiration, differing in opinion on a thousand matters, and with no
probability of ever coming to an agreement.
_Argument II. Several Passages of the New Testament plainly teach the
Doctrine of the Plenary Inspiration of the Bible._
The passages quoted by Gaussen, and mainly relied upon, are 2 Tim. 3:16.
“All Scripture is given by inspiration,” &c.; 2 Peter 1:27, “Holy men of
God spake as they were moved,” &c. Besides these, he refers to many
passages in the Old and New Testaments, but his chief stress is laid on
these.
_Reply to Argument II._—It is well known that both these passages refer
only to the Old Testament Scriptures. It is well known that the first may
be translated so as to read, “All Scripture, given by inspiration, is
profitable,” &c. But it is reply enough to both these passages, to say,
that neither of them indicates what kind of inspiration is intended. They
assert an inspiration, which we also maintain. But they do _not_ assert a
verbal inspiration, nor one which makes the Scriptures _infallible_, but
simply one which makes them _profitable_.
The stress laid on the passage 2 Tim. 3:16, “All Scripture,” &c., is
itself an argument against the theory of plenary inspiration. The most
which can be made of this text, by _any_ punctuation or translation, is,
that all the Scripture is written by inspired men. What was the degree or
kind of their inspiration, is not in the least indicated. It might have
been verbal, it might have been the inspiration of suggestion, or of
superintendence, or the general inspiration of all Christians.
Gaussen’s only argument on this point is, “that it is the _writing_ which
is said to be inspired, and writing must be in words; hence the
inspiration must be verbal.” To this we must reply, that inspired writing
can only mean what is written by inspired men. The writing itself cannot
be inspired. This argument is too flimsy to be dwelt upon.
But further still. There is another argument which lies against every
attempt to prove plenary inspiration out of the Scripture. _Every such
attempt is necessarily reasoning in a circle._ Gaussen and Kirk have
labored earnestly to reply to this argument, but in vain. The answer they
make is, “We are not reasoning with Infidels, but with Christians. We
address men who respect the Scriptures, and who admit their truth. The
Scriptures are inspired, we affirm, because, being authentic and true,
they declare themselves inspired; and the Scriptures are plenarily
inspired, because, being inspired, they say that they are so totally, and
without any exception.”
But we answer Messrs. Gaussen and Kirk thus: “You are indeed reasoning
with Christians, not with Deists; but you are reasoning with Christians
who do not believe that _every passage_ of Scripture is infallibly
inspired. To prove your doctrine from any particular passages or verbal
expressions, you must prove that those particular passages and expressions
are not themselves errors. You yourselves assert that this cannot be done,
except we believe these passages to be infallibly inspired. Therefore you
must assume infallible inspiration in order to prove infallible
inspiration. In other words, you beg the question instead of arguing it.”
In this vicious circle the advocates of a verbal inspiration of
infallibility are necessarily imprisoned whenever they attempt to argue
from the words of Scripture. They contend that one must believe their
theory in order to be sure that any passage is absolutely true, and then
they quote passages to prove their theory, as if they were absolutely
true.
_Argument III. The theory of plenary inspiration is simple, precise,
intelligible, and easy to be applied._
We admit this to be true. It has this merit in common with the opposite
theory of no inspiration. Both are simple, precise, and very easy of
application. But simplicity is not always a sign of truth. The facts of
nature and life are more apt to be complex than simple. Theories
distinguished by their simplicity most commonly ignore or omit a part of
the facts. Simplistic theories are generally one-sided and partial.
Materialism, Atheism, Idealism, Fatalism, are all very simple theories,
and explain all difficulties with a marvellous rapidity. This makes them,
at first, attractive to the intellect, which always loves clear and
distinct views; but afterwards, when it is seen that they obtain clearness
by means of shallowness they are found unsatisfactory.
_Argument IV. The quotations from the Old Testament, by Jesus and his
apostles, show that they regarded its language as infallibly inspired._
This argument, upon which great stress is laid, both by Prof. Gaussen and
Dr. Kirk, though plausible at first sight, becomes wholly untenable on
examination.
Thus, in the temptation of Jesus, in his reply to the tempter, he says,
“Thou shalt not live by bread alone;” the whole force of the argument
depending on the single word _alone_.
Replying to the Sadducees, who denied the resurrection, he says, “Have ye
not read that God says, I _am_ the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of
Jacob? God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.” Then the whole
stress of the argument rests on the use of the verb in the present tense,
“_I am_.”
Arguing with the Pharisees, “How did David, by the Spirit, call him
_Lord_, saying, The Lord said to my Lord,” &c.? Here the argument depends
on the use of the single word _Lord_.
Many more instances could be produced of the same kind; and Gaussen
contends, that when Jesus and his apostles thus rest their argument on the
force of a single word of the Old Testament, they must have believed that
the very words were given by inspiration. For otherwise the writers might
not have chosen the right word to express their thought in each particular
case. And unless the Jews had also believed in the verbal inspiration of
their Scriptures, they would have replied that these particular words
might have been errors.
_Reply to this Argument._—Plausible as this argument may seem, it turns
out to be wholly empty and worthless. Whenever any writer is admitted to
be an authority, then his words become authoritative, and arguments are
necessarily based on single words and expressions. In all such cases, we
assume that he chose the best words by which to convey his thought, and
yet we do not ascribe to him any inspiration or infallibility.
Thus, go into our courts of law, and you will hear the language of the
United States constitution, of the acts of legislature, of previous
decisions of the courts, argued from, word by word. Counsel argue by the
hour upon the force and weight of single words in the authorities. Judges
in their charges instruct the jury to determine the life and death of the
criminal according to the letter of the law. And this they do necessarily,
according to the rule, “_Cum recedit a litera, judex transit in
legislatorem_.” But will any one maintain that the counsel and court
believe that the legislature was infallibly inspired to choose the very
language which would convey their meaning?
In this very argument for plenary inspiration, Gaussen and his associates
rest their argument on the single word “all,” in the text, “All Scripture
is given by inspiration,” &c. Yet, say they, we are not assuming that this
text is plenarily inspired, for that, we admit, would be begging the
question. If, then, Mr. Gaussen can argue from the force of the single
word _all_, without assuming the doctrine of plenary inspiration, why
could not Jesus and his apostles argue from single words, without assuming
the doctrine of plenary inspiration?
There is, however, a passage in Paul (Gal. 3:16), in which the apostle
quotes a text from the Old Testament, and lays the whole stress of his
argument on two letters. “He says not, ‘And to seeds’ σπέρμασιν, as of
many, but as of one, ‘And to thy seed’ σπερματι.” According to Gaussen’s
argument, Paul must have believed in the inspiration of the letters. But
Gaussen is careful not to adduce this instance, which seems at first so
much in his favor. For, in fact, both in Hebrew and Greek, as in English,
“seed” is a collective noun, and does mean _many_ in the singular. The
argument of Paul, therefore, falls through; and it is evident that he is
no example to be imitated here, in laying stress on one or two letters.
Most modern interpreters admit that he made a mistake; and so, among the
ancients, did Jerome, who nevertheless, said the argument “was good enough
for the foolish Galatians.”
Having thus replied, very briefly, but we believe sufficiently, to the
main arguments in support of this theory, we say, in conclusion, that it
cannot be true, for the following reasons, which we simply state, and do
not now attempt to unfold.
1. The New Testament writers nowhere claim to be infallibly inspired to
write. If they had been infallibly inspired to write the Gospels and
Epistles, they certainly ought to have announced this important fact.
Instead of which Luke gives as his reason for writing, not that God
inspired him to write, but that “inasmuch as others have taken in hand” to
write, it seemed good to him also to do the same, and that for the benefit
of Theophilus. John and Paul assert the truth of what they say, but not on
account of their being inspired to write, but because they are disciples
and apostles.
2. The differences in the accounts of the same transactions show that
their inspiration was not verbal.
These differences appear on every page of any Harmony of the New
Testament. They are numerous but unimportant; they go to prove the truth
of the narrative, and give probability to the main Gospel statements. But
they utterly disprove the theory of plenary inspiration.
3. Paul declares that some things which he says are “of the Lord,” other
things “of himself;” that in regard to some things he was inspired, in
regard to others, not.
4. Every writer in the New Testament has a style of his own, and there is
no appearance of his being merely an amanuensis.
5. While the New Testament writers lay no claim to any such inspiration as
this theory assumes, they do claim for themselves and for all other
Christians another kind of inspiration, which is sufficient for all the
facts, and which gives them ample authority over our faith and life, and
makes them independent sources of Christian truth.
This view we have already sufficiently considered in our chapter on
inspiration.
§ 3. Defence of the Doctrine that Sin is a Nature, by Professor Shedd.
In the “Christian Review” for 1852 appeared an article of great power,
written by a gentleman who has since become eminent as a thinker and
writer—Professor W. G. T. Shedd. The title of the article was calculated
to attract attention, as a bold attempt to defend an extreme position of
Calvinism—“Sin a Nature, and that Nature Guilt.” The article was so
rational and clear that we consider it as being even now the best
statement extant of this thorough-going Calvinism, and therefore devote a
few pages here to its examination.(87)
After some introductory remarks, which it is not necessary to notice, the
writer lays down his first position, that sin is a nature. His statement
is, that we all sin necessarily and continually in consequence of _our
nature_, i.e., the character born with us, original and innate.
The proofs of this position are, 1. The language of St. Paul (Eph. 2:3),
“We were by nature the children of wrath, even as others.” 2. That we are
compelled by the laws of our mind to refer volitions to a nature, as
qualities to a substance. We cannot stop in the outward act of sin, but by
a mental instinct look inward to the particular volition from which the
sin came. Nor can the mind stop with this particular volition. There is a
steady and uniform state of character, which particular volitions cannot
explain. The instinct of reason causes us to look back for one common
principle and source, which shall give unity to the subject; and, having
attained a view both central and simple, it is satisfied. As our mind
compels us to refer all properties to a substance in which they inhere, so
it compels us to refer all similar volitions to a simple nature. When we
see exercises of the soul, we as instinctively refer them to a nature in
that soul, as we refer the properties of a body to the substance of that
body. 3. Christian experience proves that sin is a nature. The Christian,
especially as his experience deepens, is troubled, not so much by his
separate sinful actions and volitions, as by the sinful nature which they
indicate, and out of which they spring. We are compelled to believe, as we
look inward, that there is a principle of evil within us, below those
separate transgressions of which we are conscious. There is a diseased
condition of the soul, which these transgressions, indicate. There are
secret faults from which we pray to be cleansed. 4. The history of
Christian doctrine shows that the Church has in all ages believed in a
sinful nature, as distinguished from conscious transgressions.
These are the proofs of the first position, that sin is a nature. We have
stated them concisely, but with sufficient distinctness and completeness.
Let us now examine their validity.
The first argument is the text in Ephesians, “We were by nature children
of wrath,” ἦμεν τέκνα φύσει ὀργῆς. The word φύσις, the writer contends,
“always denotes something original and innate, in contradistinction to
something acquired by practice or habit.” This text, we know, is the
proof-text of original sin, and is considered by many commentators as
teaching that man’s nature is wholly corrupt. But plainly this is going
too far. Granting the full meaning claimed for the word φύσις, the text
only asserts that there is something in man’s nature which exposes him to
the divine displeasure by being the source of sin. It does not assert the
corruption of the whole nature, nor preclude the supposition that we are
born with tendencies to good, no less than to evil. That we are so, the
writer is bound by his own statement to admit; for if this Greek word
“always denotes something original and innate,” it denotes this in Rom.
2:14,(88) which declares that the Gentiles “do by nature the things
contained in the law.” According to this passage in Romans, if there be
such a thing as natural depravity, it is not total; and if there be such a
thing as total depravity, it is not natural. Those who wish to maintain
both doctrines can only do it by admitting two different kinds of
sinfulness in man, one of which is natural, but not total; the other
total, but not natural—a distinction which we esteem a sound one.
According to this passage in Rom 2:14, we must understand φύσις as
referring to the good side of man’s nature, and the same word in Eph. 2:3
as referring to the corrupt side of man’s moral nature. The first refers
to the “law of the mind;” the second, to the other “law in the members”
(Rom. 7:23). But there is another passage (Gal. 2:15), which asserts that
the Jews by nature are not sinners, like the heathen. Now, as we can
hardly suppose that the original instincts and innate tendencies of the
Jewish child were radically good from birth, and essentially different
from those of the heathen, and as such a supposition would contradict the
whole argument of Paul in Rom. ch. 2, it is evident that φύσις in Gal.
2:15 does not denote something original and innate. The meaning of this
verse probably is, that the Jew from birth up, and by the mere fact of
being born a Jew, came under the influences of a religious education,
which preserved him from many forms of heathen depravity. The word,
therefore, means in that passage, not a Jew by nature, but a Jew by birth;
and, if so, we are at liberty, if we choose, to ascribe the same meaning
to the word in Ephesians, and to understand the text to teach that we were
by birth placed under circumstances which tended necessarily to deprave
the character.
This passage, therefore, quoted by the writer, does not teach entire
depravity by nature, but a partial depravity, either found in the
hereditary tendencies and instincts, or acquired by means of the evil
circumstances surrounding the child from his birth.
The second argument of the writer is, that the laws of mind compel us to
refer sinful volitions to a sinful nature, as they compel us to refer
qualities to a substance.
We admit that, where we see uniform and constant habits of action, we are
compelled to refer these to a permanent character or state of being. If a
man once in his life becomes intoxicated, we do not infer any habit of
intemperance, or any vicious tendency; but if he is habitually
intemperate, we are compelled, as the writer justly asserts, to look
beneath the separate single actions for one common principle and source.
But in assuming that this source is a nature brought with us into the
world, the writer seems to us to jump to a conclusion. It may be an
acquired character, not an original nature. It may be an induced state of
disease either of body or mind, a depravity which has commenced this side
of childhood. We know that there are acquired habits both of mind and of
body; otherwise, not only would it be impossible for a man to grow worse,
but it would also be impossible for him to grow better, and there would be
an end to all improvement and progress. Such an acquired character
introduces unity into the subject of investigation, as completely as does
an original nature, and therefore satisfies all the wants of the mind.
A precisely similar answer may be made to the writer’s third argument,
drawn from Christian experience. He is perfectly right, we think, in
saying that the Christian is troubled, not merely, nor chiefly, by the
recollection of single acts and volitions of evil, but in the evidence
which they seem to give of a sinful state of mind and heart. He is right
in considering any theory of moral evil shallow and inadequate which only
takes into account sinful actions and sinful volitions. What earnest man,
who has seriously set about correcting a fault, or improving his
character, but has been obliged to say, “To will is present with me; but
how to perform that which I will, I find not”? Every earnest effort shows
us more plainly how deep the roots of evil run below the surface. We find
a _law_ in the members warring against the law of the mind, and bringing
us into captivity to the law of sin. This is the description which Paul
gives of it. It is a _law_; that is, something regular, constant,
permanent—a steady stress, a bias towards evil. The apostle, however,
differs from the writer in placing this law, not in the will, but in the
members; and also in stating that there is another law,—that of the
mind,—which has a tendency towards good. In the unregenerate we understand
him to teach that the law of evil is the stronger, and holds the man, the
personal will, captive. In the regenerate, the reverse is the case. Nor
does Paul teach that this sinful tendency is guilt. It is not “O _guilty_
man that I am!” but “O _wretched_ man that I am!”
Now, while we agree with the writer in rejecting as superficial and
inadequate any theory of evil, whether emanating from our own denomination
or from any other, which does not recognize this evil state or tendency
lying below the volitions, we differ from him in that we think it not
always a nature, but a character. He has not proved, nor begun to prove,
that this dark ground of evil in man is always innate or original. It may
or may not be; but the argument from Christian experience shows nothing of
the sort.
The writer’s fourth and remaining argument is, that the Church has, in all
ages, believed in a sinful nature, as distinguished from conscious
transgressions. If this were so, we admit that it should have weight in
the inquiry; but we deny the fact so far, at least, as the sinful nature
is concerned.(89)
The writer proceeds thus: “Assuming, then, that the fact of a sinful
nature has been established, we pass to the second statement of St. Paul,
that man is by nature a child of wrath. We pass from his statement that
sin, in its ultimate form, is a nature, to his statement that this nature
is guilt.” If we have done justice to the writer’s arguments,—and it has
been our object to state them fairly, though briefly,—we submit that the
fact of a sinful nature has not been established by them. He has shown
that in man there is a tendency to evil running below the conscious,
distinct volitions—that there is a permanent character, good or evil,
which manifests itself, and becomes first apparent to ourselves, or to
others, in these separate, spiritual exercises or actions. But that this
stress either to good or evil, this law either of the mind or members, is
original and inborn, is yet to be proved. Let us then consider the second
point, namely, whether this character or nature, whichever it may be, is
also guilt.
As the writer’s first argument to prove a sinful nature was drawn from the
Greek word φύσις, so his first argument to prove that nature guilt is
derived from the Greek word ὀργή in the same passage. “The apostle
teaches,” he says, “that sinful man is a child of wrath. Now, none but a
guilty being can be the object of the righteous and holy displeasure of
God.” But this word, translated _wrath_, is confessedly used in other
senses besides that of the divine anger or displeasure. It may mean the
sufferings or punishments which come as the result of sin, in which sense
it is used in Matt. 3:7, “Who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to
come?” and other places. This word is used in the passage just quoted for
some future evil; in John 3:36, for a present evil—“The wrath of God
abides on him;” and in 1 Thess. 2:16, for a past evil—“For the wrath is
come [lit. _has_ come] on them to the uttermost.” It may mean the
subjective feeling of guilt; the sense that we deserve the divine
displeasure, which is removed by the assurance of forgiveness. It may mean
the state of alienation from God, which results by a law of the conscience
from this sense of guilt—an alienation removed by the divine act by which
God reconciles the sinner to himself. And the radical meaning, from which
these secondary meanings flow, may be the essential antagonism existing
between the holy nature of God and all evil. But whatever it means, it
cannot intend anything like human anger. In the divine wrath there is
neither selfishness nor passion; and it must consist with an infinite love
towards its object. The word, therefore, as used in Eph. 2:3, does not
convey the idea of guilt, _a vi terminis_. It may mean as well, that this
sinful tendency in man, manifesting itself in sinful actions, produces a
state of estrangement or alienation between man and God. How far this is a
guilty alienation, and how far it is evil and sorrowful, is not to be
learned from the term itself.
But the main proof of the writer in support of his second position is
found in the assertion, that this sinful tendency in man, out of which
evil acts continually flow, is not a tendency of the physical nature, but
of the will itself. He distinguishes the will proper from the mere faculty
of single choices, and considers it to be a deeper power lying at the very
centre of the soul, which determines the whole man with reference to some
great and unlimited end of living. It is, in fact, the man himself—the
person. For man, he asserts, is not essentially intellect or feeling; but
is essentially and at bottom a will, a self-determining creature. “His
other faculties of knowing and feeling are grafted into this stock and
root; and hence he is responsible from centre to circumference.” He then
affirms the will, thus defined, to be the responsible and guilty author of
the sinful nature; being nothing more nor less than its constant and total
determination to self as the ultimate end of living. This voluntary power,
which is the man himself, has turned away from God and directed itself to
self as an ultimate end; and this state of the will is the sinful nature
of man.
We have no disposition to quarrel with the psychology of this statement.
We admit man to be essentially will, in the sense here described. He is
essentially activity; an activity limited externally, by special
organization and circumstances,—limited internally, by quantity of force,
and knowledge.
Nor, again, do we deny that in the unregenerate state the will of man is
directed to self rather than to God as its ultimate end; and that this is
guilt, and in a certain sense total guilt. No man can serve two masters.
If he is obedient to one, he is necessarily disobedient to the other. This
disobedience may, or may not, appear in act; but it is there in state. He
whose ultimate end is self-gratification is always ready to sacrifice the
will of God to his own. He whose ultimate end is God is always ready to
sacrifice his own will. In this sense, the unregenerate man may be said to
be wholly sinful; and he who is born of God, not to commit sin.
Thus much we grant; and the admission is a large one. But we must now
object to the writer, that this is but one side of the question; and that
he has omitted to see the other side. The sources of evil are not so
simple as he seems to suppose; for man is a very complex being, and the
world in which he lives is a very complex world. We therefore would
inquire,—
What proof have we that this guilty direction of the will is a _nature_,
in the sense claimed, i.e., something innate or original? Why may not the
will have been turned gradually in this direction as we grow up, by
enticements of pleasure; and why might not the will, in like manner, by
means of wise culture, have been gradually directed to God?
Again: what proof have we that we are so wholly _unconscious_ of this
direction of the will, as our author contends? That a great many of the
acts of the will are unconscious acts, like the separate movements of the
finger in a skilful pianist, or lifting of the feet in walking, we admit;
and we are not responsible for these separate acts, but for the _preceding
choice_, by means of which we determine to play the tune, or walk the
mile. In like manner, the direction of the soul to self rather than to God
may be moral evil; but is not moral guilt, until we become conscious of
it, in a greater or less degree. Then, when partially or wholly awakened
to the evil direction of the soul, if we allow ourselves to neglect this
discovery, to turn away from the fact and forget it, on that conscious act
presses the whole burden of guilt, and not on the unconscious volitions
which may result from it. We say, therefore, in opposition to the writer,
that though there may be depravity without consciousness of the depraved
state, there cannot be guilt without consciousness of the evil choice, or,
as the apostle says, “Sin is not imputed where there is no law.”
Again: we totally dissent from the statement that this deep-lying will in
man is unable to obey the commands, “Turn ye, turn ye from your evil way,
for why will ye die?”—“Repent and be converted, that your sins may be
blotted out,”—“Make you a new heart and a new spirit,”—“Choose you this
day whom you will serve,”—“Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved.”
The writer says, that “such a power as this, including so much, and
running so deep, which is a determination of the whole soul, cannot, from
the very nature of the case, be such a facile and easily managed power as
that by which we resolve to do some particular thing in every-day life.”
True: not _so_ easily managed; but can it not be managed at all? It may
require _more_ self-examination to understand what the direction of the
will is, and more concentration of thought and will, and more leaning on
God’s help; but _with_ all these are we able or not able to turn to God?
He says, the great main tendency of the will to self and sin as an
ultimate end, though having a free and criminal origin, “is not to be
reversed so easily.” True, again; but why not _less_ easily? The writer
speaks of the sinful will as a “total determination of itself to self;”
and asks “how the power that is to reverse all this process can possibly
come out of the will thus shut up, and entirely swallowed in the process.
How is the process to destroy itself?” But what! Has man become _a
process_? He is essentially will, but is this will blind mechanism? Has it
not, according to our author’s own theory, intelligence, conscience,
affection, rooted into it? The moment that the writer begins to speak of
the will, as unable to change its direction, he is compelled to conceive
of it materially and mechanically, and not as the moral, responsible soul.
He says, “The human will becomes a current that becomes unmanageable
simply because of its own momentum.” And therefore, again, he is obliged
to conceive of the whole voluntary power as lost, and lost before man was
born; and he reduces all our real freedom to the original act of the will
previous to birth, which took place when we were present in Adam’s soul,
and committed the first transgression with him.
This is plainly the denial of all human freedom since the fall of Adam. We
bring into the world, according to the writer, a will wholly and
inevitably bent to evil. We have no consciousness of this tendency, and if
we were conscious of it we have no power to change it; but we yet are
responsible for it, and guilty because of it, inasmuch as we began this
state ourselves when all our souls were mystically present in the soul of
Adam. Of this theory, we merely say now, that, if it be true, man is not
_now_ guilty of any sin which he commits in his mortal life; for he is not
now a free being. He is only responsible for the sin which he freely
committed in Adam. He is no more responsible when we suppose his sin to
proceed from his will, than when we suppose it to proceed from a depraved
sensuous nature, or from involuntary ignorance, for he is no more free in
the one case than in the other. He may be an infinitely depraved and
infinitely miserable being, but he can in no true sense be called a
_guilty_ being. Again we say, if this theory be true, it is an awful
theory, and one which we cannot possibly reconcile with the justice or
goodness, and still less with the fatherly character, of God. That God
should so have constituted human nature that all the millions of the human
race should have had this fatal opportunity of destroying themselves
utterly, by one simultaneous act, in Adam, is, to say the least, an
_awful_ theory to propound concerning our heavenly Father. We might put
Christ’s argument to any man not hardened by theological study, as it
seems to us, with irresistible force. “What man is there among _you_,
BEING A FATHER,” who could do anything of this sort? But we know too well
that all such appeals fall harmless from the sevenfold shield of a
systematized theology.