Therefore we will only say further, concerning this theory, that, as being

_apparently_ in direct conflict with the divine attributes as taught in

the New Testament; as making man a mere process deprived of real freedom;

as proving man not guilty for any sin committed in this life; and as

thereby deadening the sense of responsibility, and showing that we cannot

possibly obey the command, “Repent and turn to God,”—this theory of a sin

committed in Adam _ought to have the amplest proof_ before we believe it.

We admit that it may be true, though opposed to all our ideas of God, man,

and duty. But being thus opposed, it ought to be sustained by the most

unanswerable arguments. If Jesus and his apostles have told us so plainly,

we will believe it if we can. How is it, then? Not a word on the subject

in the four Gospels. Not a text from the lips of Jesus which can be

pretended to lay down any such theory. He does not even mention the name

of Adam once in the Gospels, nor allude to him, except when speaking of

marriage. This theory rests, not on anything contained in the Gospels,

book of Acts, or Epistles of Peter, James, or John, but on two texts in

two Epistles of Paul (Rom. 5:14; 1 Cor. 15:22). In the latter passage Paul

says not a word of Adam’s sin, but only of his death,—the whole chapter

treating, not of sin, but of death and the resurrection. This passage,

therefore, can hardly be considered a plain statement of the theory. The

other, in Romans, is confessedly so far from plain, that it is difficult

to make it agree with any theory; but the most evident meaning, to one who

has no theory to support, is, that sin began with Adam, and the

consequences of sin, which are moral and physical evil, began also with

him; and as he thus set in motion a series of evil tendencies which we

find in our organization, and which Paul elsewhere calls the law of the

members, and a series of evil circumstances which we find around us in the

world, both of which are the occasion of sin, we may trace back to him the

commencement of human disobedience. If the passage teaches anything more

than this, it certainly does not teach it plainly or explicitly.

§ 4. Defence of Everlasting Punishment, by Dr. Nehemiah Adams and Dr. J.

P. Thompson.

Two defences of this dreadful doctrine have appeared within a few

years—one by Rev. Nehemiah Adams, D. D. (chiefly known by his many and

determined pleas for slavery), and the other by Dr. Thompson of New York.

We will first examine Dr. Adams’s tract on “The Reasonableness of Eternal

Future Punishment.”

We have these three objections to it:—

I. It, throughout, denies the sovereignty of God.

II. It is, throughout, a system of naturalism.

III. It, throughout, ignores the central truth of the gospel.

It is our business to substantiate these assertions by sufficient proof.

1. The view taken in his tract, of God, cannot be true, because it

conflicts with his supreme and sovereign deity.

Of course, this is to dethrone God. God, if not sovereign, is not God. Any

view which disturbs, however remotely, the supremacy of the Deity, must be

a relapse towards Pagan idolatry. We charge this tendency on the whole

tenor of this tract. We affirm that it seriously impairs that confidence

and strength which can only come from reliance on Omnipotence, and remands

us to the terrors and narrowness of Polytheism: not consciously, of

course, or intentionally, but by the logic of its ideas and the tendency

of its argument.

According to Dr. Adams’s view of the world, it is a scene of conflict

between God and the Devil. The prize contended for is the souls of men.

God wishes to save them: the Devil wishes to damn them. By immense

efforts,—by the unparalleled sacrifice of himself on the cross,—God

succeeds in saving a portion of this race, whom the Devil had plunged into

fearful and desperate sin. As for the rest, He can do nothing with them,

but must go away and leave them; escaping with the saved to some other

region, where the sin and misery of the rest may be lost sight of.

The only divine supremacy which Dr. Adams admits is that of force. God is,

on the whole, _stronger_ than the Devil; so that He can prevent him from

carrying his ravages beyond certain limits. God can “hem in and overrule”

the power of sin; but he cannot conquer it. He has no complete power over

the heart and will of men to become supreme there; but he has power over

their conduct, and can restrain that within certain limits.

God’s sovereignty, according to Dr. Adams, is only like that of a human

government, and that, again, a weak one. A human government is strong when

it is able to dispense with standing armies, with an omnipresent police,

with prisons and dungeons: it is weak when its authority is only

maintained by these. In the first case, it rests on the love of the

people; in the other case, only on force.

Now, according to Dr. Adam’s tract, God’s sovereignty is essentially one

of force. He is not sovereign by overcoming sin through his own holiness,

but only by restraining its outbreaks by externally applied force. So far

from conquering sin, he is represented as giving up all hope of conquering

it. He has tried everything in his power, and has failed. He can do

nothing more. Dr. Adams speaks of God’s “having expended upon us all which

the gospel of his grace includes,” and of “the failure of that which is

the brightness of his glory.” Now, Dr. Adams says, “What God will probably

do is, to go away and leave us,” God says, according to the idea of this

tract, “I will place all of you, who sin, in a world by yourselves, from

which I and my friends will forever withdraw.” In substance, He gives up,

and acknowledges himself defeated. He is beaten by sin, which is more

powerful than his gospel. Sin compels the Deity to compromise; to take

some souls, and to leave others; to divide the universe,—love reigning in

one part of it, hatred and wickedness in another.

2. The second objection to the doctrine of everlasting punishment, as

taught in these works, is, that it is a system of pure materialism. It is

naturalism, as opposed to supernaturalism. All its arguments from

Scripture interpret Scripture according to its letter, and not according

to its spirit. While much stress is laid on the word “eternal,” no real

eternity is believed in, or even conceived of. The fundamental law of

religious knowledge—namely, that a man must be born of the Spirit in order

to see the kingdom of God, and that spiritual things must be spiritually

discerned—is wholly lost sight of. The spiritual world, with its bliss and

its woe, is supposed to be a continuation of the natural world, instead of

being its exact opposite. The same conditions of space and time are

supposed to prevail there as here. Hell is regarded by Dr. Adams as a

large place, located in some remote part of the universe, where the

sufferings and blasphemies of damned souls and devils will not disturb the

sentimental happiness of himself and his pious companions. Eternity he

regards as an enormous and quite inconceivable accumulation of time,

instead of being the very negation of time. An unlimited quantity of days,

months, and years, is his notion of eternity.

In like manner, all the arguments by which the school to which he belongs

maintains this doctrine, are drawn from relations which exist in this

world. Great use is made of the analogies of human government. It is said

that it would not be safe for the Deity to forgive sins on the simple

condition of repentance, without an atonement, because it would not be

safe for human governments to do so. The government of God is made wholly

similar to the imperfect and ignorant governments of men. When we say that

God, as described in the New Testament, is not a Being to inflict

everlasting suffering hereafter, we are told that he inflicts suffering

here; as though there were no essential distinction between the finite and

the infinite, the temporal and the eternal. When we argue that God would

not suspend the eternal destiny of a soul upon the conduct and the

determination of a brief earthly life, we have instances given us of great

risks to which we are exposed, and great evils which we may incur, in this

world; as though there were no difference between a partial loss and total

destruction. When we say that the justice of God will not permit him to

punish everlastingly those who, like the heathen, have never known Christ,

we have instances given of those who have ignorantly burned themselves or

have fallen down precipices. In all such examples, these reasoners

overlook the essential distinction between the finite and the infinite.

They forget that all finite evil can be made the means of a greater

ultimate good, but that infinite evil cannot.

It is a curious fact, that those who are most Orthodox fall most easily

into a very hard and dry naturalism. God is to them a king sitting on a

throne in some far heaven outside of the world, not a spirit pervading it

and sustaining it. He governs men from without by offering them rewards

and threatening them with punishments, not by inward inspirations and

influence. He teaches them from without by an outward Christ, an outward

Bible, outward preachers, pulpits, creeds, Sabbaths, and churches; not by

Christ formed within us, not by epistles and gospels written on the

fleshly tables of the heart. The day of judgment is a particular time,

when God shall sit on his throne, and all appear before him; not the

perpetual spiritual sentence pronounced in each human soul by the divine

law. And so heaven is a place where there is to be some singing of psalms,

and such amusements as are here considered proper in Orthodox families;

hell, another place, where souls are shut up, to suffer from physical

fire, or at least from some external infliction. The doctrine taught by

the Saviour in the first twelve verses of his first sermon, that the

humble, the generous, the merciful, are already blessed, and have heaven

now, does not appear to be at all comprehended. That heaven and hell are

in this world already; that truth, love, and use are its essence, whilst

falsehood and selfishness are the essence of hell,—these, though

rudimental facts of Christianity, are commonly considered mere mysticism.

But those who do not see all this have not seen the kingdom of heaven, and

must be born again, into a new world of spiritual ideas, in order to see

it.

3. The third and principal argument against the doctrine of everlasting

punishment is, that it is _inconsistent with the divine love to his

creatures_. It is impossible for God to manifest love to a human being by

inflicting everlasting torment upon him. It cannot do him good, because,

according to this theory, the period of probation is past, and he has no

power now to repent. As far, therefore, as the man himself is concerned,

it is gratuitous suffering—torment inflicted without any purpose. It

cannot be said that God has any love for the soul which he is treating in

this way. He has cast it off. To that soul, nevermore, throughout the ages

of an everlasting existence, shall God appear as a friend, but always as

an enemy.

We sometimes hear of a father who disinherits a child in consequence of

some act of disobedience. In one of the most touching tragedies in the

English language, a father refuses to forgive his daughter who had married

contrary to his wishes. He leaves her to starve, and refuses to forgive

her or to see her. No one approves of this conduct in the parent. But

every Orthodox man, who believes in everlasting punishment, attributes an

infinitely greater cruelty to God; infinitely greater, because the

obstinacy of the human parent endures only during a short life, but the

severity of God endures forever.

The force of this objection is such, that Dr. Adams has felt obliged to

add to his tract on “Everlasting Punishment” another tract upon the text,

“God is love,” endeavoring to show a consistency between the two. But he

does this by substituting something else in the place of the last. It is

curious enough, that a master in Israel should have written a tract upon

the “love” of God, and should have substituted “benevolence” instead of

it. In other words, instead of that fatherly love to every individual

which is the essential fact revealed in the gospel, he gives us a general

good-will towards the human race. Such a general benevolence he finds not

inconsistent with the doctrine of everlasting punishment; for, if love be

only general good-will, then, the greatest good of the greatest number

being the object, there is nothing to complain of if a few are sacrificed

for the sake of the rest. It is not, to be sure, easy to see how those who

have safely reached glory, and are in no danger of relapse, can be

benefited by the knowledge that their old neighbors and friends are in

hell; but there may be some benefit which is not apparent. By quietly

substituting, therefore, the idea of benevolence in the place of love, the

difficulty may be evaded, which otherwise is unanswerable.

But what an entire confusion of ideas is this, which substitutes a general

benevolence for a personal affection, good-will towards the race for love

to the individual! It is, in fact, abolishing the idea of Father, and

substituting that of Ruler. The kind ruler, actuated by benevolence,

desires the good of all his subjects; but he does not love them as

individuals. But the father loves the child with a wholly different

feeling. The tie is personal, not general. It is one of mutual knowledge

and mutual dependence. We cannot love one whom we do not know; but we can

exercise benevolence towards him very easily. Benevolence depends wholly

on the character of the benevolent person; but love is drawn out by the

object loved. I do not love my child because I am benevolent, but because

it is my child. The infant draws forth a host of feelings, before unknown,

in the mother’s heart. She does not love her infant because she is a

benevolent woman, but because the infant excites her love. A man is

benevolent towards the sufferers in Kansas, whom he has never seen; but he

does not love them. He loves his wife, but is not benevolent towards her.

Benevolence and love, therefore, are not only essentially different in

their nature, origin, and manifestations, but so different as often to

exclude each other.

Now, it has always been seen that God is benevolent. This is taught by

natural religion. We see it in all the arrangements of divine Providence.

The infinitely varied provisions for the good of his creatures, the myriad

adaptations by which their wants are met, are ample evidence of this. But

Christianity comes to teach us something else,—to teach us that God is our

Father, and so to see in him benevolence swallowed up in love. God does

not love his children because he is benevolent, but because they are his

children. He does not love them for the sake of others, but for their own

sake. His love does not depend upon their being good, pious, or Christian;

it depends only upon the fact that they are his children. This is the

doctrine of the prodigal son; in which wonderful parable it is more

distinctly stated than in any other part of the New Testament. The

doctrine there taught, that there is more joy in heaven over one sinner

who repents than over ninety and nine just persons who need no repentance,

is somewhat different from that other doctrine, that the redeemed in

heaven look down with joy upon the sufferings of the damned below. This

parable teaches that God has a personal, fatherly love towards the

impenitent sinner who has gone away from him into a far country. The

father’s joy when his child returned is the evidence of the love which had

continued in his heart while his child was absent from him.

This being the character ascribed by Christ to the Deity, we assert that

it is wholly inconsistent with the doctrine of everlasting punishment as

taught in the pamphlet before us. There are, it is true, many widely

different doctrines to which the term “eternal punishment” is applied.

Some of these may not be inconsistent with the love of God. Let us give

some instances.

Some, by eternal punishment, intend the punishments of eternity, as

distinguished from those of time. They mean spiritual punishment, as

distinguished from temporal punishment. They mean the sufferings which

have their root in the sight of eternal things, as distinguished from

those which originate in the sense of earthly things—sufferings which come

to us from within, and not from without. “Eternal,” in this sense,

describes the quality, and not the quantity, of the suffering; and in this

sense eternal punishment is not inconsistent with the divine love. But

this is not the sense which Dr. Adams intends.

Some mean by endless punishment, that, as long as men continue to sin,

they will continue to suffer; that sin is eternally suffering. But this is

not the sense which Dr. Adams intends.

And some say that they believe in eternal punishment; meaning thereby,

that the consequences of sin are everlasting,—either positively, by

leaving forever some remorseful sorrow in the mind, or negatively, by

leaving men forever lower down in the scale of excellence and happiness

than they would otherwise be. But this is not what Dr. Adams means by it.

And some men believe in eternal punishment in the sense of a dark

background to the universe, which will always continue, a shadow as

permanent as light,—necessary for the full perfection and beauty of an

infinite divine creation. Into this shadow man may forever plunge; out of

it he may forever emerge: and it will always continue so to be. But this

is not the view taken by Dr. Adams.

The view which Dr. Adams takes is of endless punishment inflicted as a

consequence of temporal sin committed in this life. There will be no

opportunity to repent hereafter, no pardon offered. There is nothing done

by God, after this life, to save men. The heathen who have never heard of

Christ, unconverted infants, those who have been brought up in the midst

of evil, and heretics who do not accept the theory of Calvin concerning

Christianity, are to be tormented forever in the other world. This view he

thinks not only scriptural, but reasonable. It corresponds nearly to the

human penalty of imprisonment for life; except that, instead of a few

years of earthly life, it is a never-ending existence; and, instead of

simple imprisonment, it is imprisonment with torture added.

We are accustomed to complain of the “horrors of the Inquisition;” but

wherein do they differ in principle from the doctrine of Dr. Adams? The

inquisitors tortured men for heresy; Dr. Adams thinks that God will do the

same. The power of the Inquisition, however, was limited, on the

principle, _Dolor, si dura, brevis; si longa, levis_. But not so with

everlasting punishment.

That this view is absolutely inconsistent with the fatherly love of God to

every soul, is apparent. It would be impossible for a father to torment

his child forever in consequence of temporal sin. No earthly parent could

be found cruel enough to inflict a million years of torture upon his child

for each sin committed by him; but a million years for every sinful action

would be but a trifling penalty compared with everlasting punishment.

As it is absolutely impossible to defend this doctrine on the ground of

the fatherly love of God, it is defended by Dr. Adams and his companions

on other grounds, namely, of the divine benevolence, and the duty of God

as a governor. The argument is this: If God was dethroned, all sorts of

evil would ensue. But sin is always endeavoring to dethrone God; therefore

it is his duty to use the most strenuous measures to prevent this result.

These strenuous measures consist in the highest rewards offered to

obedience, and the severest punishments threatened to disobedience. But no

punishment is so severe as everlasting punishment; therefore the

benevolence of God requires him to threaten it; and, if threatened, his

truth requires him to inflict it. This is the sort of argument by which

the doctrine is defended. Its fallacies are manifest. It is based on a

sort of Manicheism, making evil a hostile power in the universe, which

threatens the supremacy of God. It makes God in danger of outward

overthrow in consequence of the external assaults of sin. But we have

always supposed that the essence of sin was the state of the heart, and

the evil of sin to consist in the estrangement of the heart from God, and

not in any danger that Omnipotence would be dethroned by it. Besides,

though the fear of future punishment may restrain the outward act, it

cannot change the heart, and cannot, therefore, remove the real evil of

sin. Here is the fallacy of this whole argument.

Another weak point in the argument for everlasting punishment regards its

proof, that all opportunity for repentance is confined to this life. Only

two or three texts are quoted in proof of this very important position.

One is taken from the book of Ecclesiastes, and declares, that, “in the

place where the tree falleth, there it shall be;” of which there is no

evidence that it has any relation to the subject; or, if it has, that it

carries the least authority with it. Another passage asserts that “there

is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither

thou goest.” But this would prove too much; for it would prove that there

was no knowledge in the other life. Another passage, quoted by Dr. Adams

from the book of Revelation, says, “Let him that is unjust be unjust

still;” from which it is inferred that men have no opportunity hereafter

for repentance. But, as this is said to those who are in _this_ world

waiting for the coming of Christ, it also proves too much, if taken

literally; since it would declare that men cannot repent even in this

world. Such is the extremely slight foundation on which this essential

part of the doctrine is made to rest. Never was there so weak a support

for so important a position.

The arguments from reason, by which our writer supports this part of his

doctrine, are all taken from the plane of the lowest naturalism. He thinks

it reasonable that the Almighty should suspend the everlasting destiny of

his creatures upon what they do or omit doing in this life, because men,

in earthly transactions, adopt a similar principle. A railroad train is

advertised to start at a certain hour. If we are there a minute too late,

we lose our opportunity of going on an important journey. We think this

reasonable; why, then, argues Dr. Adams, should we think it unreasonable

for God to make us lose our chance throughout eternity if we do not take

the opportunity during life? God has given us full notice, he says, of his

intention; we have been duly notified; and, after due notice, it is

thought reasonable, in earthly business transactions, for people to run

their chance. A man may commit a crime in a minute, for which he is

sentenced to imprisonment for life or to capital punishment. We think this

reasonable; why should we think it unreasonable that God should send men

to an everlasting hell in consequence of sin committed in a short

lifetime?

All these arguments are fallacious, because they apply to the infinite,

conditions belonging wholly to the finite; because they transfer to Him,

whose ways are not as our ways, and whose thoughts are not as our

thoughts, the poor necessities of human ignorance and weakness. To those

who reason thus, the Almighty may say, “Thou thoughtest me altogether such

a one as thou thyself.” It is because man is weak and ignorant that he is

obliged to live under these limitations. If we were able to do

differently, we should not make such severe consequences flow from human

ignorance and weakness. We do such things, not because we think them

absolutely just and good, but because we cannot help it. To argue that,

because it is reasonable for human weakness to do something which it

cannot help, it is reasonable for divine Omnipotence to do an infinitely

more injurious thing of the same kind, is to fly in the face of all logic

and reason.

Men make a rule, that, if I am not at the station when the train starts, I

shall lose my trip for that day. Yes; but suppose the rule should be,

that, if I arrived a moment too late, I should be crucified. Suppose a

father should give full notice to his children, that, whenever any of them

mispronounced a word, he should be burned alive. But it is easier,

according to Dr. Adams’s theory, for a child never to make a mistake, than

not to commit the sins for which it is to be punished with everlasting

torment. “What man among you is there, being a father,” who would cause

his children to come into the world exposed to such fearful risks; who

would allow them to be born with constitutions tending inevitably to sin,

the inevitable consequence of which, after a few short years of life, is

never-ending torment, the only possible escape from which is salvation

through a Being of whom the majority never heard, according to a system

which the majority cannot believe, and by a process, which, except by a

special help, none of them are able to accomplish? We should say, that we

would not have children under these conditions. It were better that such

children had never been born. If we then, being evil, would not subject

our children to such risk, how much less would our Father in heaven do

anything of the kind!

The reply to such arguments, by those whom Thomas Burnet calls the

“unmerciful doctors” and “ferocious theologians,” is always the same.

Because finite evil exists, and is not inconsistent with the divine plan,

therefore infinite evil may also exist, and not be inconsistent with the

divine plan. Because one may suffer for a time in this world, therefore he

may be compelled to suffer forever in the other world. It is assumed that

there is no essential distinction between time and eternity, between

finite and infinite evil. Here is the immense fallacy of the argument. The

difference is simply this: All finite _suffering_, however great, is as

nothing when compared with everlasting happiness afterwards; but all

finite _happiness_, however great, is as nothing when compared with

everlasting suffering afterwards. If we deny, therefore, the doctrine of

everlasting suffering, evil virtually disappears from the universe; if we

accept it, good virtually disappears, as far as the sufferers are

concerned. If all evil is finite, the goodness of God can be fully

justified; but, if to any one it is infinite, no such theodicy is

possible.

This is the fatal objection to the doctrine of everlasting punishment. It

clouds the face of the heavenly Father with impenetrable gloom. It takes

away the best consolations of the gospel. When Jesus tells us to forgive

our enemies, that we may be like our heavenly Father, who sends his

blessings upon the evil and the good, this doctrine adds, that God’s

character is thus forgiving only in this world; but that, in the other

world, he will torment his enemies forever in hopeless suffering. When we

seek consolation amid the griefs and separations of this world by looking

to a better world, where all tears will be wiped away, we have presented

to us instead this awful vision of unmitigated horror. Instead of finite

evil being swallowed up into infinite good, it darkens down into infinite

woe.

Dr. Adams quotes Thomas Burnet, Master of the Charter-house, as a striking

instance of one, who, though he denied or doubted this doctrine, admitted,

nevertheless, that the Scriptures were probably against him. He quotes him

correctly as saying, “Human nature shrinks from the very name of eternal

punishment; yet the Scriptures seem to hold the other side.” Though Dr.

Adams gives the Latin, and refers to the page of the book, let us hope,

for his own sake, that he quotes it at second-hand; which, as he twice

misspells the name, is not unlikely; for Dr. Burnet, so far from admitting

that the Scriptures are “probably against him,” concludes, after an

examination of the leading passages, that they prove nothing certainly as

to the eternal duration of future punishment. He quotes the passage in

which the Jewish servant is said to become a slave _forever_,—meaning till

the year of jubilee; in which circumcision is called an _everlasting

covenant_,—meaning that it shall be abolished by the same divine

authority; in which the land of Canaan was given for an _everlasting

possession_ to Abraham and his seed, from which they have long since been

expelled; &c. Dr. Burnet does, indeed, say that the Scriptures _seem_ to

favor the doctrine he opposes; but he then goes on to show that such is

not the case. He also “awakens antiquity,” and calls to his aid the

merciful doctors of the early church (Justin Martyr, Jerome, the

Gregories, &c.) to support his hope in a merely limited future suffering.

We will now consider the meaning of some of the texts usually adduced in

support of this doctrine. Of these texts, there are some six or seven only

upon which much stress is laid; and of these the principal ones are as

follows:—

1. Matt. 18:8, “Having two eyes, two hands,” &c., “to be cast into hell

fire,” or “into everlasting fire” (τὸ πῦρ τὸ αἰώνιον)—(τὴν γέεναν τοῦ

πυρός).

2. Matt. 25:46, “These shall go away into everlasting (eternal)

punishment, but the righteous into life eternal ”(κόλασιν αἰώνιον and ζωὴν

αἰώνιον). The same adjective is used in both places here, in the Greek;

but our translators have seen fit to render it “everlasting” in the first

place, and “eternal” in the second. There is no authority for such a

different translation. The word κόλασις, translated “punishment,” occurs

in one other place in the New Testament: this is (1 John 4:18), “Perfect

love casteth out fear, because fear hath torment.” In this last instance,

it is evident that the idea of punishment is not found, but only that of

suffering. In the LXX. (Ezek. 14:3, 4, 7) it is translated

“stumbling-block,” and means, says Schleusner (Lexicon in LXX.), “all that

is the source of misfortune or suffering.” Donnegan gives as its meaning,

“the act of clipping or pruning; _generally_, restriction, restraint,

reproof, check, chastisement; _lit. and met._, punishment.”

The true translation of the passage, then, is,—

“These shall go away into the sufferings or punishments of eternity; and

the righteous, into the life of eternity.”

The simple, direct, and natural meaning, therefore, of this passage is,

that, besides temporal joy and suffering, there are eternal joy and

suffering: besides the joys and sufferings which have their root in time

and in temporal things, there are joys and sufferings which have their

root in eternity and in eternal things. In the twenty-fifth chapter of

Matthew, the sufferings of eternity are described as following directly

upon judgment, and as being its natural consequence. The judgment on each

soul consists, according to this passage, in showing it its real

character. Both the good and the bad are represented as needing such a

judgment as this. Until the judgment takes place, men are described as

being ignorant of the true nature of their own past conduct. They do not

know their own good or their own evil: they do not understand themselves

as they really are. They have done good and bad actions, but have not

understood the value of those actions. They have not seen, that in every

deed of charity, in every act of humble benevolence, they were helping

Christ and his cause. They have not understood, that, by every selfish and

cruel deed, they were injuring their Master. But the judgment reveals all

this to them, and lifts them immediately out of temporal joy or pain into

eternal joy or pain. They rise out of temporal things into eternal things,

and the new insight is to them a source of spiritual joy or spiritual

suffering.

In some instances, if αἰώνιος were translated “everlasting” or

“never-ending,” it would make such palpable nonsense, that our translators

have been obliged to give it an entirely different rendering. Thus (2 Tim.

1:9; Tit. 1:2) we have the phrase πρὸ κρόνων αἰώνιον; which would be,

literally, “before eternity,” or “before everlasting time began,”

according to the common rendering. They have, therefore, translated it

“before the world began.” In the same way (Matt. 24:3; 1 Cor. 10:11), they

are obliged to change their usual rendering, or they would have to say,

“So shall it be at the end of forever;” or, “The ends of eternity have

arrived.”

Mark 9:43-50, it is said that the “worm does not die” in Gehenna, and “the

fire is not quenched.” This, therefore, is thought to teach the doctrine

of never-ending punishment hereafter; but this was a proverbial

expression, taken from the book of Isaiah.

Chap. 66:24, the prophet says, that, in the times of the Messiah, all men

shall come, and worship in the presence of Jehovah; and shall then go out,

and look upon the dead bodies of the men who had transgressed against the

Lord; “for their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be quenched;

and they shall be an abhorring unto all flesh.” Our Saviour, therefore, is

not making an original doctrinal statement, but he is quoting from Isaiah.

Now, the passage in Isaiah refers, not to punishment of the soul

hereafter, but to the destruction of the bodies of transgressors in the

valley of Hinnom. The fire and the worms in that valley were not

everlasting in any strict sense. When Isaiah says, “Their worm shall not

die, nor their fire be quenched,” he expresses merely the utter

destruction which would fall upon them. The fire and the worms of the

valley of Hinnom have long since disappeared; but, while the fire lasted,

it was the emblem, to the Jews, of the destruction which was to fall upon

those who resisted the will of Jehovah. But it is not to be supposed that

the idea of eternity, which is not in the original image, should be added

in the figure. The fire and the worms were to last in the valley of Hinnom

as long as there were idolaters to be punished for their idolatry; and so

the spiritual suffering consequent upon sin lasts as long as sin lasts.

Sin is perpetual misery; conscience is a worm which never dies; bad

passions are a fire which is never extinguished. This is the simple and

natural meaning of this passage.

3. Matt. 26:24. In this passage, as it stands in our translation, Jesus

says concerning Judas, “Woe to that man by whom the Son of man is

betrayed! It were good for that man if he had never been born.” (Mark

14:21.) The argument is, that, if it were good for Judas not to have been

born, it must be impossible that he should ever repent and be saved;

because, if he should ever be saved, and his punishment should cease

(though at ever so remote a period), it would be better for him to have

been born than not to have been born; since there would remain an eternity

of happiness to be enjoyed afterwards. And if this be true of Judas, it

may be also true of others.

But, in reply to this argument, we say,—

1. The translation is doubtful. The literal translation is, “Woe to that

man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! It had been good for him if that

man had never been born.” This is the literal rendering of the Greek; and

the apparent meaning seems to be, “that it had been good for the Son of

man if Judas had not been born.” Jesus seems to say that it is a great woe

to him, a great sorrow, to be betrayed by one of his own friends, by a

member of his own household. It would have been good for Jesus, if this

traitor, who was to wound his heart so deeply, had never existed.

2. But, retaining our present translation, the natural application of it

is to this life. It means simply this: The earthly life of this man is an

entire failure. His life is wholly thrown away. He had better never have

been in the world, than to stand, as he will to all time, a monument of

the basest treachery. The idea of the future life does not come it at all

here.

On the whole, one must feel, in reading these books and tracts, that such

writers are more to be pitied than to be blamed. Confined in the

strait-jacket of an austere theology; steeped to the lips in Calvinism;

working painfully all his life in sectarian harness; with an angry heaven

over his head, and a ruined earth about his feet; his friends and

neighbors dropping into hell by thousands every year; never having had any

real sight of the blessed face of Jesus; having for them no hope full of

immortality, but, instead thereof, a tenor full of damnation,—even a

kindly nature and an affectionate heart must suffer, be dwarfed and

crippled.

It is not an agreeable task to refute such errors; but believing them

equally destructive, in their tendency, to piety and morality,—corrupting

the Christian life at its centre, and weakening its chief source of

power,—we feel it a duty not to be avoided. Advancing age does not make us

conservative in regard to such doctrines. The longer we live, the more we

see of their evil tendency. When young, we shrank from attacking them,

fearing lest they might contain some truth beyond the range of our limited

experience. But, having come to see wherein the essence of Christian truth

lies in all varieties of pious experience, we know that this doctrine is

an excrescence, weakening always the vital power of the gospel. It rests

on custom, on cowardice, on the fear of change, not on any positive

insight or substantial knowledge. But, as Tertullian declared of another

doctrine defended by precedent, “Christ did not say, ‘I am the Custom,’

but, ‘I am the Truth.’ ”

The time will come in which the Christian Church will look back upon its

past belief in this doctrine as it looks back now on its former universal

belief in the duty of persecution, the primacy of the pope, or the

atonement made by Christ to Satan. It will regard it with the horror with

which it now regards its former universal conviction, that God was pleased

when his children burned each other alive for difference of opinion. We

now shudder when we hear of “AN ACT OF FAITH,” consisting in burning at

the stake ten or twenty Jews and Protestants. Our children will shudder

with a still more inward grief that we could make it _an act of faith_ to

believe that GOD burns millions of his own children in unquenchable fire

forever because they deny Calvin’s view of the atonement, or the Church

definition of the Trinity, or because of any possible amount of sin

committed in this world.

-------------------------------------

We now proceed to add some remarks upon a recent work by Dr. Thompson of

New York, a zealous and favorite disciple of the late Dr. Taylor of New

Haven. This book, the title of which is, “Love and Penalty,” consists of

nine lectures delivered in the Broadway Tabernacle.

With the contents of some of the chapters we have nothing to do. All the

arguments for retribution, derived from the nature of God, the nature of

man, the course of Providence, the demerit of sin, have for their object

to prove what all Christians fully believe. Unitarians and Universalists,

Theodore Parker and R. W. Emerson, teach retribution, present and future,

with a force which leaves little need of additional arguments from

Orthodoxy. They teach a perfect and inevitable retribution, proceeding

both from the truth and goodness of God, by means of which every man reaps

as he sows. Orthodoxy, they complain, teaches no such full and perfect

retribution. All that part of this volume, therefore, which is intended to

show the probability of retribution, is wasted, so far as any opposers are

concerned. In this part of his book, Dr. Thompson fights as one who beats

the air. He is very zealous to disprove that which no one asserts, to

prove that which no one denies, and to show the folly of a position which

no one assumes.

The confusion referred to runs through the whole book; and perhaps there

is no better illustration than this volume presents of that logical

fallacy which is called “the irrelevant conclusion.” This fallacy consists

in proving one thing, and making men think you have proved another. Dr.

Thompson’s hearers saw that he proved future retribution, and thought that

he proved eternal punishment. We do not suppose that he intended to

sophisticate them: the difficulty seems rather to be, that he has

sophisticated himself. The _ignoratio elenchi_ is in his own mind. He

thinks, because he sees penalty, that he has seen vengeance; that, because

he has established retribution, he has demonstrated everlasting

punishment.

A reasoner has, no doubt, a perfect right to try to prove two distinct and

independent propositions; but he must keep them distinct and independent,

and not pretend to be proving one when he is proving the other. He has

also a perfect right, if he desires to establish one proposition, to prove

another, as the first step towards it; but he has no right to assume or

imply that he has made out one of his points, when he has only shown the

probability of the other.

Now, our author (p. 19) declares that he has one object; viz., to show the

truth of the doctrine of everlasting punishment. He says, “It will be the

aim of this series of lectures to show that _the doctrine of the eternal

punishment of the wicked is in entire harmony with the paternal character

of God_.” He then proceeds to give the substance of his argument, under

eight heads. Six of these only prove future retribution, and only two of

them have any direct bearing upon the main question. Yet, through all of

them, there runs a quiet assumption, that they are bearing directly on the

main question. This is the radical sophism of the whole volume. We may see

this more plainly by analyzing some of his chapters.

His first position is this, in Lecture I.: “Our own nature, which is

appealed to as refusing to recognize the attribute of punitive justice in

a God of love, in fact demands this attribute, as essential to the moral

perfection of the Deity—an attribute without which he could not command

the confidence and homage of his intelligent creatures.”

Before attempting to demonstrate any theorem, it is important to define

its terms. An accurate definition at first of what we wish to prove would

often make a long discussion unnecessary. What is meant by the “_attribute

of punitive justice_”? Does it mean that God’s nature is such that he

causes happiness to flow from goodness, and suffering from wickedness, in

the constitution of the universe? If this is meant, Dr. Thompson will find

no one to oppose him; for all this can take place in perfect accordance

with divine love to the sinner himself. What he _needs_ is suffering: this

is the way by which he is to be cured of that sin which is a greater evil

than suffering. Or does the author mean, by “punitive justice,” some

attribute of the divine nature which finds pleasure in punishing the

sinner, without regard to any good which is to come from it, either to him

or to any one else? Apparently, this last is what he means; for he goes on

to quote from Pagan authorities and Pagan religions, to show that

conscience in man requires that the wicked should be punished, without any

regard to any good to result from it. But these authorities only show,

that, in the one-sided action of man’s nature, the sense of justice acts

independently of love. What Dr. Thompson has undertaken to show is, that

it can act in God in harmony with love. In man, conscience produces hatred

of sin, without regard to the good of the sinner; but the divine

conscience acts in no such one-sided way. “Mercy and truth meet together;

righteousness and peace kiss each other.” The law is vindicated and the

sinner benefited at the same moment.

The atonement of Christ, objectively considered, consisted exactly in

this, that he showed a perfect reconciliation, in his own life, of God’s

hatred to sin, and love to the sinner. No one was ever so averse from sin,

no one was ever so in sympathy with the sinner, as Jesus. The power of his

life, death, and higher life, lay in this union of holiness and love. This

was the objective atonement in Christ, and in this he was God manifest in

the flesh. He who has seen him has seen the Father. The Christianized

conscience, following Christ, pities the sinner, while it abhors the sin.

Christian legislation lays aside the vindictive tendencies of natural law,

and seeks at the same time to destroy evil, to protect society, and to

reform the criminal. From this gospel view our author remands us to

Paganism, and to the dicta of the natural conscience in unregenerate man.

These testimonies only show, that conscience, in its unregenerate state,

demands that the sinner be punished, and does not care whether that

punishment does him good or harm, makes him better or worse. But

conscience, when Christianized, does care: it wishes to save the sinner,

while it punishes the sin. As far as the natural conscience goes, it

speaks truly in saying that evil should follow sin. But why it should

follow it, and what shall be the result, it does not say. That was left to

Christ to reveal.

Dr. Thompson himself bears witness, unconsciously, to the truth of this

distinction. Along with his testimonies from the Heathen conscience, he

gives us two testimonies from the Christian conscience. The one is his own

feelings on seeing a woman carried to the Tombs. He says he felt sympathy

for her, and would fain have saved her from that shame, while he wished

her crime to be punished. The other is the testimony of Dr. Bushnell, that

the “necessary reason” why wicked people, remaining wicked, should not be

in heaven, is, that it would destroy the happiness of heaven. These two

Christians, therefore, have consciences which do not testify to punishment

proceeding from naked, arbitrary, and vindictive law, such as the Pagan

conscience accepts, but punishment having a reasonable end, a benevolent

purpose, and accompanied with sympathy for the sinner.

Another position of Dr. Thompson is, however, so extraordinary, that it

needs more consideration. His fifth proposition is this: “_The high and

sacred Fatherhood which the gospel reveals is a Fatherhood in Christ

towards those who love him, and not a general Fatherhood of indiscriminate

love and blessing for the race._”

A certain want of logical clearness in our author’s mind appears in the

very statement of this proposition. He joins together a positive and a

negative, which have no antithetical relation. We entirely agree with him,

that the Fatherhood of God is _not_ one of _indiscriminate_ love and

blessing for the race; but we utterly reject the proposition, that the

Fatherhood which Christ reveals is only one towards those who love him.

The apostle John tells us that “we love him because he first loved us.”

And again: “Herein is love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us,

and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” The doctrine of the

apostle is exactly opposite to that of Dr. Thompson. The modern divine

teaches that God only loves those who first love him; but the ancient

divine teaches that only by God’s loving us first do we come to love him.

Nor is this doctrine peculiar to John. It is a fundamental truth of the

New Testament, that God’s fatherly love, manifested to the soul, creates

an answering love, and that nothing else can create it. Jesus said of the

woman, “She loved much; but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth

little.” God’s forgiving love comes first, and creates a grateful love in

return. And again we read (John 3:16), “God so loved the world, that he

gave his only-begotten Son.” He therefore loved the world while it was

still alienated from him. And again we are told by the Saviour (Matt.

5:44) to “love our enemies, that we may be the children of our Father in

heaven,” who loves his enemies.

Possibly our friend may say, “Yes, God loves the sinner; but he does not

love him with a _fatherly_ love, but only with a general love.” Perhaps a

copy of the New Testament may be used in the Tabernacle Church, New York,

which does not contain the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Only on some such

supposition can we account for this assertion of Dr. Thompson, that “the

high and sacred Fatherhood which the gospel reveals is a Fatherhood in

Christ towards those who love him.” Is that “_high and sacred Fatherhood

of God_” revealed anywhere more fully and plainly than in this parable?

and does it not teach expressly that the father loved the son, while he

was absent, as a son? Is not his joy at the return of his son the evidence

of that love which clung to him while he was away? Even after the son

returned, he had not begun to love his father as a son: he did not think

he had any right to do so. He did not expect that his father would love

him again: he only expected to be as a servant. It is evidently, then,

utterly false to say that God’s Fatherhood, revealed in the gospel, is

only a Fatherhood towards those who love him: it is a Fatherhood to those

who hate him and to those who fear him. His love creates theirs, and is

not created by it. Such a doctrine as this of Dr. Thompson, if generally

believed, would sap the foundations of Christian life, and turn the gospel

of reconciling grace into a cold system of retribution.

As a proof of this melancholy opinion,—an opinion which takes the life out

of the gospel,—the author relies chiefly on that passage in which Jesus

says to the Jews that they were of their father the devil. (John 8:44.)

From this he argues that they had no right to regard God as Father, and

that no one has that right except pious believers in Christ. But was not

God at that very moment their Father, in the same way that the father of

the prodigal son was his father while he was yet in the far country? The

prodigal son could not see his father’s love: while absent from him, he

could not tell how much his father loved him. Only when he returned, and

came back to his father’s house, could he behold that blessed countenance

and feel that pardoning love. But none the less did his father love him

during all that absence; none the less did he desire his return.

When Jesus said to the unbelieving Jews, “Ye are of your father the

devil,” was he describing God’s state of mind, or their state of mind? Did

he mean that God was alienated from them, or that they were alienated from

God? He evidently meant to say that they were in a _devilish_ state of

mind; that in their character and feelings they partook of the spirit of

the devil, and not of the spirit of God. He was describing their position

in relation to God, not God’s position in relation to them. The text,

therefore, appears to have no direct bearing on the subject. It teaches,

indeed, that they could have no truly filial feeling towards God; but it

does not show that he might not have a truly parental feeling towards

them. If they could not truly say, “Abba, Father,” he could say, “My son,

give me thy heart.”

We dwell on this because our author seems to us to have assumed a position

injurious, if not fatal, to the most vital force of the gospel. That which

subdues and converts the heart, and makes all things new in the soul, is

not to be told, that God will be our Father when we love him, but that he

is our Father now. “Herein is love; not that we loved God, but that he

loved us.” “God commends his love toward us, that, _while we were

sinners_, Christ died for us.” But why multiply quotations to prove that

which is written on the face of the gospel, and to which all Christian

experience bears testimony? It is God’s love to us, descending in Christ,

while we are estranged and far off, which draws up our affection to him:

it is not our love which takes the initiative, and draws his down.

The sixth position argues future retribution from the demerit of sin, and

asserts that “no punishment equal to the demerit of sin is, or can be,

inflicted in the present life.”

The boldness of this proposition is only equalled by the poverty of the

reasoning by which it is supported. To assert that it is not in the power

of God adequately to punish sin in this world, is to profess a knowledge

of the resources of Omnipotence, and an acquaintance with the deserts of

man, which it seems to us presumptuous to claim. On this point it is not

necessary to enlarge. An _a priori_ argument to prove that God cannot

punish sin in this life as much as it deserves to be punished, can carry

conviction to no mind which possesses any intellectual humility.

The seventh position declares that “there is no conceivable mode and no

revealed promise by which the Fatherhood of God can make one, dying in

impenitence and unbelief, holy and blessed in the future world.”

This is, of course, the very key-stone of the argument in support of the

doctrine of everlasting punishment. The burden of proof rests upon those

who assert that doctrine. It is not enough that Scripture does not

expressly declare that there is an opportunity in the other life for

repentance and pardon; for Scripture is dealing with us in this life, and

has no occasion to say much of the opportunities of the other. Those who

wish to prove that there is no opportunity hereafter must show some text

which expressly declares it. No such text is produced, and there is no

such text in the Bible. If Jesus had said, “You must repent in this life,

for after death there will be no opportunity;” or, “At death, man’s

spiritual condition is finally determined;” or, “After this life, man

cannot turn from evil to good,”—we should have some distinct proof of the

doctrine. But now we have none.

The Parable of Dives and Lazarus is referred to more than once by our

author in support of his position. It is sufficient to say in regard to

this, that the most Orthodox commentators, provided they are scholars,

expressly deny that this refers to the doctrine of everlasting punishment.

Olshausen, for instance, says, “Rightly to understand the whole

delineation, we must, above all, keep clearly in view, that it is not

everlasting salvation or condemnation which is here described, but the

middle state of departed souls, between death and the resurrection.” “In

our parable, there is no possible reference to the everlasting

condemnation of the rich man, inasmuch as the germ of love, and of faith

in love, is clearly expressed in his words.” The word translated “hell” in

this parable is not Gehenna, but Hades.

Our author says, and says justly, that we can form no opinion as to

another probation hereafter from _a priori_ reasoning, but that the

question must be answered only from Scripture. Having said this, he

immediately proceeds to argue it, _a priori_, stating that there are only

three conceivable modes by which those dying impenitent can be saved; and

then tries to show that neither is possible. After this, he quotes a few

passages bearing only indirectly, and by inference, upon the question. The

Parable of the Ten Virgins is one of these, because in it it is said, “The

door is shut;” and, “Depart! I know you not.” With regard to this parable,

also, Olshausen says that “the words ‘I know you not’ cannot denote

eternal condemnation;” that the foolish virgins were “saved, but not

sanctified;” and that the parable does not distinguish between the

penitent and the impenitent, but between the penitent believers who watch

and those who do not watch.

Of course, we have not been able to notice all the arguments of this book,

or all the texts referred to; but we have perhaps said enough to show that

its positions are not all tenable, and that its arguments are not

absolutely unanswerable. This book of Dr. Thompson, though able, cannot be

called conclusive.

§ 5. Defence of the Trinity, by Frederick D. Huntington, D. D.

The last section of this Appendix shall be devoted to an examination and

criticism of Dr. Huntington’s sermon, printed some time since, in defence

of the Trinity. The course of our argument will be as follows. We shall

give the reasons which have induced Unitarians to reject the Church

doctrine of the Trinity; also examining Dr. Huntington’s positions and

arguments in its support.

The principal reasons, then, for rejecting the Church doctrine of the

Trinity, as assigned by Unitarians, are these:—

1. That it is nowhere taught in the New Testament.

2. That every statement of the Trinity, which has ever been made, has been

either, (1.) Self-contradictory; (2.) Unintelligible; (3.) Tritheistic;

or, (4.) Unitarian, in the form of Sabellianism, or of Arianism.

3. That the arguments for it are inadequate.

4. That the arguments against it are overwhelming.

5. That the good ascribed to it does not belong to it, but to the truths

which underlie it.

6. That great evils to the Church come from it.

7. That it is a doctrine of philosophy, and not of faith.

8. That we can trace its gradual historic formation in the Christian

Church.

9. That it is opposed to a belief in the real divinity of Christ, and to a

belief in his real humanity; thus undermining continually the faith of the

Church in the divine humanity of Christ Jesus the Lord.

-------------------------------------

Proceeding, then, to an examination of these reasons, we say,—

I. The Church doctrine of the Trinity is nowhere stated in the New

Testament.

To prove this, as it is a negative proposition, would require us to go

through the whole New Testament. But we are saved this necessity by the

fact that we have a statement on this point from one of Dr. Huntington’s

own witnesses, and one on whom he mainly relies. He brings forward

Neander, the great Church historian, as a believer in the Trinity (p.

361), and again (p. 378), by an error which he has since candidly

admitted, quotes him as saying, “It is the fundamental article of the

Christian faith,”—which is just what he denies in the following passage.

We call Neander to the stand, however, _now_, to have his unimpeachable

testimony as a Trinitarian (and a Trinitarian claimed by Dr. Huntington

with pride) to the fact, that the doctrine of the Trinity is nowhere

stated in the New Testament. This is what Neander says of the Trinity, in

the first volume of his great work on Church History (p. 572, Torrey’s

translation):—

“We now proceed to the doctrine in which Theism, taken in its

connection with the proper and fundamental essence of

Christianity, or with the doctrine of redemption, finds its

ultimate completion—_the doctrine of the Trinity_. This doctrine

does not strictly belong to the fundamental articles of the

Christian faith, as appears sufficiently evident from the fact,

that it _is expressly held forth in no one particular passage of

the New Testament_; for the only one in which it is done, the

passage relating to the three that, bear record (1 John 5:7), is

undoubtedly spurious, and in its ungenuine shape, testifies to the

fact, how foreign such a collocation is from the style of the New

Testament Scriptures. We find in the New Testament no other

fundamental article than that of which the apostle Paul says, that

other foundation can no man lay than that is laid—the annunciation

of Jesus as the Messiah.”

With this authority we might be content. But Dr. Huntington differs from

Neander in thinking that Jesus has himself stated the doctrine of the

Trinity, and stated it clearly and fully, in the baptismal formula. (Matt.

28:19.) He says that this is “a clear and full declaration of the

fundamental article of Christian belief.” He says, “Now, if ever, Christ

will distinctly proclaim the doctrine of Christendom;” and he then

declares that Christ, in this passage, told his Church to baptize “in the

Triune name.”(90)

Not in the Tri_une_ name, certainly. This is an assumption of our friend.

He may think that this is implied; that this is to be inferred; that this

is what Christ meant; but certainly it is not what Christ said. Christ

gives us here _three_ objects of baptism, no doubt; but he does not say

that they are one. How far this baptismal formula is “a clear and full

declaration” of the doctrine of the Trinity will appear thus. The doctrine

of the Trinity declares,—

1. That the Father is God.

2. That the Son is God.

3. That the Holy Ghost is God.

4. That the Holy Ghost is a person, like the Father and the Son.

5. That these three persons constitute one God.

Of these five propositions, all of which are essential to the doctrine of

the Trinity, _not one is stated in the baptismal formula_. Christ here

says _nothing_ about the deity of the Father, the Son, or the Holy Ghost;

_nothing_ about the personality of either of them; and _nothing_ about

their unity: It is difficult to conceive, therefore, how Dr. Huntington

can bring himself to call this a command to baptize in the Triune name.

Dr. Huntington adds, “Our faith is summoned to the three persons, of the

one God.” But nothing is said of three _persons_; nothing is said of their

being one God.

He says, “No hint is given that there is any difference of nature,

dignity, duration, power, or glory, between them.”

We admit it, but also say, that no hint is given of any _equality_ of

nature, dignity, duration, power, or glory, between them. Which way, then,

is the argument? Christ does not state, on the one hand, that the three

are unequal or different: he does not state, on the other hand, that they

are equal and the same. The inference of proof from this fact seems to us

to be this: If the apostles, when Christ spoke to them, were already full

believers in the church doctrine of the Trinity, the fact that Christ did

not deny it would be an argument in its favor; but if the apostles were,

at that time, wholly ignorant of the Trinity, then the fact, that he did

not assert it distinctly, at least shows that he did not mean to teach it

at that time. That inference appears to us a very modest one. But Dr.

Huntington will admit that they did not know the doctrine; for he tells us

that it was the purpose of Christ to teach it to them at that time. To

which we can only reply, If he meant to teach the doctrine, why did he not

teach it?

That the _word_ TRINITY is not to be found in the New Testament, and that

it was invented by Tertullian, is a matter of little consequence; but that

the doctrine itself should be nowhere stated in the New Testament we

conceive to be a matter of very great consequence. We have seen that Dr.

Huntington’s attempt to show that it _is_ stated in the baptismal formula

is a failure. If not stated there, we presume that he will not maintain

that it is stated anywhere. We therefore agree with Neander in saying,

that, whether the doctrine be true or not, it is not taught distinctly in

the New Testament. If taught at all, it is only taught inferentially; that

is, it is a matter of reasoning, not a matter of faith. It is metaphysics:

it is not religion.

II. The second reason why Unitarians reject the Church doctrine of the

Trinity is this:—

That every statement of the Trinity has proved, on examination, to be

either, (1.) A contradiction in terms; or, (2.) Unintelligible; or, (3.)

Tritheistic; or, (4.) Unitarianism under a Trinitarian form.

Let us examine this objection. What is the general statement of the

Trinity, as made by the Orthodox Church, Catholic and Protestant?

Fortunately, this question is easily answered.

Orthodoxy has been consistent since the middle ages in its general

statement, however much it may have varied in its explanations of what it

meant by that statement.

The doctrine of the Trinity, as it stands in the creeds of the churches,

is this:—

There is in the nature of God three persons,—the Father, the Son, and the

Holy Ghost,—and these three are one being. They are the same in substance,

equal in power and glory. Each of these three persons is very God,

infinite in all attributes; and yet there are not three Gods, but one God.

According to the general doctrine of Orthodoxy, the unity of God is in

being, essence, and substance; that is, God is one being, God is one

essence, God is one substance. The threefold division stops short of the

being of God: it does not penetrate to his essential nature: it does not

divide his substance.

What, then, is the Trinity? It is a Trinity of persons.

But what is meant by “person,” as used in this doctrine? According to the

common and familiar use of the word at the present time, three persons are

three beings. Personality expresses the most individual existence

imaginable. If, therefore, the word “person” is to be taken according to

the common use of the phrase, the doctrine of the Trinity would be

evidently a contradiction in terms. It would be equivalent to saying, God

is one being, but God is three beings; which again would be equivalent to

saying that one is three.

Now, Trinitarians generally are too acute and clear-sighted to fall into

such a palpable contradiction as this. It is a common accusation against

them, that they believe one to be three, and three one; but this charge

is, in most cases, unjust. This would be only true in case they affirmed

that God is three in the same way in which he is one; but they do not

usually say this. They declare that he is one being,—not three beings.

They declare that the threefold distinction relates to personality, not to

being, and that they use the word “person,” not in the common sense, but

in a peculiar sense, to express, as well as they can, a distinction,

which, from the poverty of language, no word can be found to express

exactly. Thus St. Augustine confessed, long ago, “We say that there are

three persons, not in order to say anything, but in order not to be wholly

silent.” _Non ut aliquid diceretur, sed ut ne taceretur._ And so

Archbishop Whately, in the notes to his Logic, regrets that the word

“person” should ever have been used by our divines; and says, “If

_hypostasis_, or any other completely foreign word, had been used instead,

no idea at all would have been conveyed, except that of the explanation

given; and thus the danger, at least, of being misled by a word, would

have been avoided.”

(1.) _The Unintelligible Statement._

The Trinitarian thus avoids asking us to believe a contradiction; but, in

avoiding this, he runs upon another rock—that, namely, of not asking us to

believe anything at all; for if “person” here does _not_ mean what it

commonly means, and if it be impossible, from the poverty of language, to

define precisely the idea which is intended by it, we are then asked to

believe a proposition which Trinitarians themselves are unable to express.

But a proposition which is not expressed is no proposition. A proposition,

any important term of which is unintelligible, is wholly unintelligible.

To make this matter clear, let us put it into a conversational form. We

will suppose that two persons meet together,—one a Unitarian, the other a

Trinitarian.

_Trinitarian._ You do not believe the Trinity? Then you cannot be saved.

No one can be saved who denies the Trinity. It is a vital and fundamental

doctrine.

_Unitarian._ Tell me what it is, and I will see if I can believe it. What

is the Trinity?

_Trin._ God exists as one being, but three persons.

_Unit._ What do you mean by “person”? Do you mean a person like Peter,

James, or John?

_Trin._ No; we use “person” from the poverty of language. We do not mean

that.

_Unit._ What, then, do you mean by it?

_Trin._ It is a mystery. We cannot understand it precisely.

_Unit._ I have no objection to the doctrine being mysterious; I believe a

great many things which are mysterious; but I don’t want the _language_ to

be mysterious. You might as well use a Greek, or a Hebrew, or a Chinese

word, and ask me to believe that there are three _hypostases_ or three

_prosopa_ in Deity, if you do not tell me what you mean by the word

“person.”

_Trin._ It is a great mystery. It is a matter of _faith_, not of

_reasoning_. You must believe it, and not speculate about it.

_Unit._ Believe _it_? Believe _what_? I am waiting for you to tell me what

I am to believe. I am ready to exercise my faith; but you are tasking, not

my faith, but my knowledge of language. I suppose that you do not wish me

to believe _words_, but thoughts. I wish to look through the word, and see

what thought lies behind it.

Now, it seems to us that this is a very fair demand of the Unitarian. To

ask us to believe a proposition, any important term of which is

unintelligible, is precisely equivalent to asking us to believe no

proposition at all. Let us listen to Paul: “Even things without life,

giving sound, whether pipe or harp, except they give a distinction in the

sounds, how shall it be known what is piped or harped? For, if the trumpet

give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself for battle? So likewise

ye, except ye utter by the tongue words easy to be understood, how shall

it be known what is spoken? _for ye shall speak into the air_.... For, if

I know not the meaning of the voice, I shall be unto him that speaketh a

barbarian; and he that speaketh, a barbarian unto me.”

It is of no use to talk about mystery in order to excuse ourselves for not

using intelligible language. That which is _mysterious_ is one thing; that

which is _unintelligible_ is quite another thing. We may understand what a

mystery is, though we cannot comprehend _how_ it is; but that which is

unintelligible we neither comprehend nor understand at all. We neither

know _how_ it is, nor _what_ it is. Thus, for example, the fact of God’s

foreknowledge and man’s freedom is a mystery. I cannot comprehend how God

can foreknow what I am to do to-morrow, and yet I be free to do it or not

to do it. I cannot comprehend how Jesus should be delivered to death by

the determined counsel and foreknowledge of God, and yet the Jews have

been free agents in crucifying him and accountable for it. These things

are mysteries; but they are not unintelligible as doctrines. I see what is

meant by them. There is no obscurity in the assertion that God foreknows

everything, nor in the other assertion that man is a free agent. I can see

clearly what is implied _in both statements_, although my mind cannot

grasp both, and bring them together, and show the way in which they may be

reconciled. So, too, infinity is a mystery. We cannot comprehend it. Our

mind cannot go round it, grasp it, sustain it. Our thought sinks baffled

before the attempt to penetrate to the depth of such a wonderful idea. But

we understand well enough what is meant by infinity. There is nothing

obscure in _the statement_ of the fact, that the universe is unbounded. So

the way in which a flower grows from its seed is mysterious. We cannot

comprehend how the wonderful principle of life can be wrapped up in those

little folds, and how it can cause the root to strike downward, and the

airy stalk to spring lightly upward, and the leaves to unfold, and, last

of all, the bright, consummate flower to open its many-colored eye. But

certainly we can understand very well _the statement_ that a flower grows,

though we do not comprehend how it grows.

Do not, then, tell us, when you have announced a doctrine, the language of

which is unintelligible, that you have told us a mystery. You have done no

such thing. Your proposition is not mysterious: it is unintelligible. It

is not a mystery: it is only a mystification.

(2.) _The Tritheistic Statement._

Leaving, then, this ground of mystery, and attempting to define move

clearly what he means by three persons and one substance, the Trinitarian

often sinks the Unity in the Triplicity, and so runs ashore upon

Tritheism. This happens when he explains the term “person” as implying

independent existence; in which case the Unity is changed into Union. Then

we have really three Gods: the FATHER, who devises the plan of redemption;

the SON, who goes forth to execute it; and the HOLY SPIRIT, who sanctifies

believers. If there are these three distinct beings, they can be called

one God only as they are one in will, in aim, in purpose,—only as they

agree perfectly on all points. The Unity of God, then, becomes only a

unity of agreement, not a unity of being. This is evidently not the Unity

which is taught in the Bible, where Jesus declares that the _first of all

the commandments is_, “Hear, O Israel! the Lord our God is ONE Lord.”

Moreover, against such a Trinity as this there are insuperable objections,

from grounds of reason as well as of Scripture. For God is the Supreme

Being, the Most High; and how can there be _three_ Supreme Beings, three

Most High Gods? Again: God is the First Cause; but if the Father, the Son,

and the Holy Ghost are each God, and all equal in power and majesty, and

have each an independent existence, then there are three first causes;

which is evidently impossible. Again: one of the attributes of God is his

independent or absolute existence. A being who depends on another cannot

be the Supreme God. The Father, Son, and Spirit, therefore, cannot depend

on each other; for each, by depending on another, would cease to be the

independent God. But, if they do not depend on each other, then each

ceases to be God, who is the First Cause; for that being is not the First

Cause who has two other beings independent of him. Other arguments of the

same kind might be adduced to show that there cannot be three necessary

beings. In fact, all the arguments from reason, which go to prove the

Unity of God, prove a unity of nature, not of agreement.

“But why argue against Tritheism?” you may say. “Are any Tritheists?” Yes:

many Trinitarians are in reality Tritheists, by their own account of

themselves. There are many who make the _Unity_ of God a mere unity of

agreement, and talk about the society in the Godhead, and the

_intercourse_ between the Father, Son, and Spirit.(91)

Opposed to this kind of Trinity is another view, in which the Unity is

preserved, but the Trinity lost. According to this view, God is one Being,

who reveals himself in three ways,—as Father, as Son, as Spirit,—or

sustains three relations, or manifests himself in three modes of

operation. The Trinity here becomes a nominal thing, and is, in reality,

only Unitarianism with an Orthodox name. This kind of Trinity also is very

prevalent, and is the one really maintained by men of high standing in the

Orthodox Church, both in Europe and America. According to this view, the

word “person” in the doctrine of the Trinity means the same as the

corresponding word in Greek and Latin formerly meant; namely, the outward

character, not the inward individuality. Thus Cicero says, “I, being one,

sustain three persons or characters; my own, that of my client, and that

of the judge”—_Ego unus, sustineo tres personas_.

This view of the Trinity is commonly called Modalism, or Sabellianism, and

is also widely held by those who call themselves Trinitarians. It is, in

fact, only Unitarianism under a Trinitarian name.(92)

(3.) _The Subordination View._

Avoiding these two extremes, and yet wishing to retain a distinct idea of

Unity and Tri-personality, the Trinitarian is necessarily driven upon a

third view, in which the Father is the only really Supreme and Independent

Being, the Son and the Holy Spirit subordinate and dependent.

This view, which is called the subordination scheme, or Arianism, is

Unitarianism again in another form; and this view also is entertained by

many who still retain the name of “Trinitarians.” According to this view,

the Son and the Holy Ghost are really God, but are so by a derived

divinity. God the Father communicates his divinity to the Son and the Holy

Ghost. This is the view really taken in the Nicene Creed, though adopted

in opposition to the Arians, and was the doctrine of the earliest Church

Fathers before the Arian controversy began. In the Nicene Creed, we read

that the Son is “God of (ἐκ) God, Light of (ἐκ) Light, true God of true

God;” the “_of_” here being the same as “from,” and denoting origin and

derivation.

This doctrine seems, in reality, to have less in its favor than either of

the others. By calling the Son and Holy Spirit God, it contrives to make

three distinct Gods, and so is Tritheism; and yet, by making them

dependent on the Father, it becomes Unitarianism again. Thus, singularly

enough, this attempt at making a compromise between Unity and Trinity

loses both Unity and Trinity; for it makes three Gods, and so loses the

Unity; and yet it makes Christ not “God over all,” not the Supreme Being,

and so loses the Trinity.

Between these different views, between Tritheism, Sabellianism, and

Arianism, the Orthodox Trinity has always swung to and fro,—inclining more

to one or to the other according to the state of controversy in any

particular age. When the Arian or Tritheistic views were proclaimed and

defended, the Orthodoxy of the Church swung over towards Sabellianism,

making the Unity strong and solid; and the Trinity became a thin mode or

an airy abstraction. When Sabellianism, thus encouraged, came openly

forward, and defended its system and won adherents, then Church Orthodoxy

would hasten to set up barriers on that side, and would fall back upon

Tritheistic ground, making the Threefold Personality a profound and real

distinction, penetrating the very nature of Deity, and changing the Unity

of Being into a mere Unity of Will or agreement. We will venture to say,

that there has never yet been a definition of the Trinity which has not

been either Tritheistic or Modalistic; and Church Orthodoxy has always

stood either on Tritheistic or on Sabellian ground. In other words, the

Orthodox Trinity of any age, when searched to the bottom, has proved to be

Unitarianism, after all—Unitarianism in the Tritheistic or in the

Sabellian disguise; for the Tritheism of three coequal, independent, and

absolute Gods, is too much opposed both to reason and Scripture to be able

ever to maintain itself openly as a theology for any length of time.

The analogies which are used to explain the Trinity are all either

Sabellian or Tritheistic. Nature has been searched in all ages for these

analogies, by which to make the Trinity plain; but none have ever been

found which did not make the Trinity either Sabellianism or Tritheism.

They are either three parts of the substance, or else three qualities or

modes of the substance.

Thus we have instances in which the three are made the three parts of one

being, or substance; as in _man_,—spirit, soul, body; thought, affection,

will; head, heart, hand.

One Being with three distinct faculties is Tritheism: one Being acting in

three directions is Sabellianism.

Time is past, present, and future. Syllogism has its major, minor, and

conclusion. There are other like analogies.

St. Patrick took for his illustration the three leaves of trefoil, or

clover. Others have imagined the Trinity like a triangle; or they have

referred to the three qualities of space,—height, breadth, width; or of

fire,—form, light, and heat; or of a noun, which has its masculine,

feminine, and neuter; or of a government, consisting of king, lords, and

commons; or of executive, legislative, and judiciary.

This survey of Church Trinity shows that it is either one in which,—

1. The persons are not defined; or an unintelligible Trinity.

2. Or which defines person and Unity in the usual sense; or a

contradictory Trinity.

3. Or which defines person as usual, and the Unity as only Union; or

Tritheism.

4. Or which defines person as only manifestation; or Sabellianism.

These four are all the views ever hitherto given, and are all untenable.

We might stop here, and say that the Trinity is utterly unsupported. There

is no need of going to the Scripture to see if it is taught there; for we

have, as yet, nothing to look for in Scripture.

The Trinitarian’s difficulty appears to be in defining person. But

possibly he may say, “I cannot, indeed, give a positive idea of person;

but I can give a _negative_ one. I cannot say what it _is_; but I can say

what it is _not_. It is _not_ a mere _mode_ on the one hand; and not

_being_, on the other. We must neither confound the persons nor divide the

substance.”

We will, then, go further, and say, as Trinitarians have never yet defined

person, without making it either a mode or a being, so they never can

define it otherwise. There is no third between being and mode. They _must_

either confound the persons or divide the substance.

Again: that which differences one person in the Deity from another must be

either a perfection or an imperfection. There is nothing between these.

But it cannot be an imperfection; for no imperfection exists in God: and

it cannot be a perfection; for then the other two persons would want a

divine perfection, and would be imperfect.

III. The arguments in support of the Trinity are wholly inadequate. Since,

according to Neander, the Trinity is not stated in the New Testament, it

follows that it is a doctrine of _inference_ only; that is, a piece of

human reasoning. Now, we have, no doubt, a perfect right to infer

doctrines from Scripture which are not stated there; but, as Protestants,

we have no right to make these inferences fundamental, or essential to the

religious life. They may, indeed, be metaphysically essential; that is,

essential to a well-arranged system; but they are not morally essential;

that is, not essential to the moral and spiritual life of the soul.

But this is just what Dr. Huntington attempts to do. He tries to show that

there is a doctrine essential to the life, peace, and progress of man,

which the New Testament has omitted to state; which is neither distinctly

stated by our Saviour nor by any of his apostles; which has been left to

be inferred, and inferred by the mere processes of unaided human reason.

What arguments does he allege for this?

His first and principal argument is the _universal belief of the Christian

Church in the doctrine of the Trinity_.

On this Dr. Huntington lays great stress. He says,—

“Truth is not determined by majorities; and yet it would be contrary to

the laws of our constitution not to be affected by a testimony so vast,

uniform, and sacred as that which is rendered by the common belief of

Christian history and the Christian countries to the truth of the Trinity.

There is something extremely painful, not to say irreverent, towards the

Providence which has watched and led the true Christian Israel, in

presuming that a tenet so emphatically and gladly received in all the ages

and regions of Christendom, as almost literally to meet the terms of the

test of Vincentius,—believed always, everywhere, and by all,—is unfounded

in revelation and truth. Such a conclusion puts an aspect of uncertainty

over the mind of the Church, scarcely consistent with any tolerable

confidence in that great promise of the Master, that he would be with his

own all days.” (p. 359.)

To which we answer,—

(1.) That, according to Dr. Bushnell (Dr. Huntington’s own witness), there

never has been, nor is now, any such belief in the doctrine of the Trinity

as he asserts. The largest part of the Church have always “divided the

substance” of the deity, and another large portion have “confounded the

persons;” and so the majority of the Church, while holding the word

“Trinity,” have never believed in the Triunity at all.

Dr. Huntington summons Dr. Bushnell as a witness to the practical value of

the Trinity; and we may suppose something such an examination as this to

take place:—

_Dr. Huntington._ Tell us, Dr. Bushnell, what instances you know of

persons who have been converted or deeply blessed by the holy doctrine of

the Trinity.

_Dr. Bushnell._ I have known of “a great cloud of witnesses,” “living

myriads,” “who have been raised to a participation of God in the faith of

this adorable mystery,” (Huntington, p. 413.)

_Dr. H._ Mention some of them.

_Dr. B._ “Francis Junius,” “two centuries and a half ago,”—a professor “at

Heidelberg (Leyden?), testified that he was, in fact, converted from

atheism by the Christian Trinity;” also “the mild and sober Howe;” “Jeremy

Taylor;” also “the Marquis de Rentz;” “Edwards,” and “Lady Maxwell.”

(Huntington, p. 414.)

_Unitarian._ Say, Dr. Bushnell, whether, in your opinion, the majority of

Christians really believe in the Church doctrine of the Trinity.

_Dr. B._ “A very large portion of the Christian teachers, together with

the general mass of disciples, undoubtedly hold three living persons in

the interior nature of God.” (Bushnell: “God in Christ,” p. 130.)

_Unit._ Is that scriptural or Orthodox?

_Dr. B._ No. It is only “a social Unity.” It is “a celestial

Tritheocracy.” It “boldly renounces Orthodoxy at the point opposite to

Unitarianism.” (Bushnell: “God in Christ,” p. 131.)

_Unit._ Do I understand you to be now speaking of the properly Orthodox

ministers and churches generally?

_Dr. B._ “Our properly Orthodox teachers and churches, while professing

three persons, also retain the verbal profession of one person. They

suppose themselves really to hold that God is one person; and yet they

most certainly do not: they only confuse their understanding, and call

their confusion faith. This I affirm on the ground of sufficient evidence;

partly because it cannot be otherwise, and partly because it visibly is

not.” (_Ibid._ p. 131.)

_Unit._ Do you believe, Dr. Bushnell, that spiritual good can come from

such a belief in the Trinity as you describe to be “undoubtedly” that of

“the general mass of disciples”?

_Dr. B._ “Mournful evidence will be found that a confused and painfully

bewildered state is often produced by it. They are practically at work in

their thoughts to choose between the three, sometimes actually and

decidedly preferring one to another; doubting how to adjust their mind in

worship; uncertain, after, which of the three to obey; turning away,

possibly, from one with a feeling of dread that might well be called

aversion; devoting themselves to another, as the Romanist to his patron

saint. This, in fact, is Polytheism, and not the clear, simple love of

God. There is true love in it, doubtless; but the comfort of love is not

here. The mind is involved in a dismal confusion, which we cannot think of

without the sincerest pity. No soul can truly rest in God, when God is in

two or three, and these in such a sense that a choice between them must be

continually suggested.” (_Ibid._ p. 134.)

_Unit._ This state of mind is undoubtedly that of the general mass of the

disciples?

_Dr. B._ It is. (_Ibid._ p. 130.)

_Unit._ Are there others, calling themselves Trinitarians, who hold

essentially the Unitarian doctrine?