Let us now see whether Jesus Christ set up sanguinary laws, enjoined
intolerance, ordered the building of dungeons of the inquisition, or
instituted bodies of executioners.
There are, if I am not mistaken, few passages in the gospels from
which the persecuting spirit might deduce that intolerance and
constraint are lawful. One is the parable in which the kingdom
of heaven is compared to a king who invites his friends to the
wedding-feast of his son (_Matthew_ xxii.). The king says to them,
by means of his servants: “My oxen and my fatlings are killed, and
all things are ready. Come unto the marriage.” Some go off to their
country houses, without taking any notice of the invitation; others
go about their business; others assault and slay the king’s servants.
The king sends his army against the murderers, and destroys their
town. He then sends out on the high road to bring in to the feast all
who can be found. One of these sits at table without a wedding dress,
and is put in irons and cast into outer darkness.
It is clear that, as this allegory concerns only the kingdom of
heaven, it certainly does not give a man the right to strangle or
put in jail a neighbour who comes to sup with him not wearing a
festive garment. I do not remember reading anywhere in history of
a prince who had a courtier arrested on that ground. It is hardly
more probable that, if an emperor sent his pages to tell the princes
of his empire that he had killed his fatlings and invited them to
supper, the princes would kill the pages. The invitation to the
feast means selection for salvation; the murder of the king’s envoys
represents the persecution of those who preach wisdom and virtue.
The other parable (_Luke_ xiv.) tells of a man who invites his
friends to a grand supper. When he is ready to sit at table, he sends
his servant to inform them. One pleads that he has bought an estate,
and must go to visit it; as one does not usually go to see an estate
during the night, the excuse does not hold. Another says that he has
bought five pairs of oxen, and must try them; his excuse is as weak
as the preceding--one does not try oxen during the night. A third
replies that he has just married; and that, assuredly, is a good
excuse. Then the holder of the banquet angrily summons the blind and
the lame to the feast, and, seeing that there are still empty places,
says to his valet: “Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel
them to come in.”
It is true that this parable is not expressly said to be a figure
of the kingdom of heaven. There has, unhappily, been too much abuse
of these words, “Compel them to come in”; but it is obvious that a
single valet could not forcibly compel all the people he meets to
come and sup with his master. Moreover, compulsory guests of this
sort would not make the dinner very agreeable. According to the
weightiest commentators, “Compel them to come in” merely means “Beg,
entreat, and press them to come in.” What, I ask you, have this
entreaty and supper to do with persecution?
If you want to take things literally, will you say that a man must
be blind and lame, and compelled by force, to be in the bosom of the
Church? Jesus says in the same parable: “When thou makest a dinner
or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy
kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours.” Has any one ever inferred from
this that we must not dine with our kinsmen and friends when they
have acquired a little money?
After the parable of the feast Christ says (_Luke_ xiv. 26): “If any
man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and
children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also,
he cannot be my disciple.... For which of you, intending to build
a tower, sitteth not down first and counteth the cost?” Is there
anybody in the world so unnatural as to conclude that one must hate
one’s father and mother? Is it not clear that the meaning is: Do not
hesitate between me and your dearest affections?
The passage in _Matthew_ (xviii., 17) is quoted: “If he neglect
to hear the Church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a
publican.” That does not absolutely say that we must persecute pagans
and the farmers of the king’s taxes; they are cursed, it is true,
but they are not handed over to the secular arm. Instead of the
prerogatives of citizenship being taken from these farmers of taxes,
they have received the greatest privileges. It is the only profession
that is condemned in Scripture, and the one most in favour with
governments. Why, then, should we not be as indulgent to our erring
brethren as to the tax-gatherers?
The persecuting spirit further seeks a justification of itself in
the driving of the merchants from the temple and the sending of a
legion of demons from the body of a possessed man into the bodies of
two thousand unclean animals. But who can fail to see that these are
instances of the justice which God deigns to render to himself for
the contravention of his law? It was a lack of respect for the house
of the Lord to change its purview into a merchant’s shop. It is no
use saying that the Sanhedrim and the priests permitted this only
for the sake of the sacrifices. The God to whom the sacrifices were
made might assuredly destroy this profanation, though he was hidden
in a human form; he might also punish those who introduced into the
country such enormous herds of animals forbidden by a law which he
deigned to observe himself. These cases have no relation whatever to
persecution on account of dogma. The spirit of intolerance must be
very poor in argument to appeal to such foolish pretexts.
Nearly all the rest of the words and actions of Christ breathe
gentleness, patience, and indulgence. He does not even break out
against Judas, who must betray him; he commands Peter never to use
the sword; he reproaches the children of Zebedee, who, after the
example of Elias, wanted to bring fire from heaven on a town that
refused them shelter.
In the end Christ succumbed to the wicked. If one may venture to
compare the sacred with the profane--God with a man--his death,
humanly speaking, had some resemblance to the death of Socrates.
The Greek philosopher was a victim to the hatred of the sophists,
priests, and leaders of the people; the legislator of the Christians
was destroyed by the Scribes, Pharisees, and priests. Socrates might
have escaped death, and would not; Jesus Christ offered himself
voluntarily. The Greek philosopher not only pardoned his calumniators
and his wicked judges, but begged them to treat his children in the
same way if they should ever be so fortunate as, like himself, to
incur their hatred; the legislator of the Christians, infinitely
superior, begged his father to forgive his enemies.
If it be objected that, while Socrates was calm, Jesus Christ seemed
to fear death, and suffered such extreme anguish that he sweated
blood--the strongest and rarest symptom of fear--this was because
he deigned to stoop to all the weakness of the human body that he
had put on. His body trembled--his soul was invincible. He taught us
that true strength and grandeur consist in supporting the evils under
which our nature succumbs. It is a splendid act of courage to meet
death while you fear it.
Socrates had treated the sophists as ignorant men, and convinced them
of bad faith; Jesus, using his divine rights, treated the Scribes and
Pharisees as hypocrites, fools, blind and wicked men, serpents, and
vipers.
Need I now ask whether it is tolerance or intolerance that is of
divine right? If you wish to follow Jesus Christ, be martyrs, not
executioners.