The Higher Criticism, as expounded by Dr. Farrar, admits nearly all
the Bible difficulties that have been advanced by "infidels." Let us
recapitulate the most important. The Bible is hopelessly at variance
with science. It sometimes contradicts well-established history. Many of
its stories, taken literally, are obviously absurd. Some of the actions
it records with apparent approval are wicked or disgusting. A good deal
of its language sins against common decency. Several books were not
written by the authors whose names they bear. Others are, and must for
ever remain, anonymous. The dates of composition of the various
books are not what has been generally supposed. Occasionally the true
chronology differs from the received chronology by many centuries. To
the great majority of readers the Bible has never been known, and never
can be known, except in translations. No translation can possibly be
perfect. Every translation of the Bible is known to contain grave and
numerous errors. Even in the original Hebrew and Greek manuscripts there
are thousands of various readings. In some cases the text is uncertain,
in some cases interpolated, and in others irrecoverably impaired. The
vowel points by which Hebrew is now read are demonstrably a modern
invention. Even the discourses of Jesus Christ, in the New Testament,
are not reported with accuracy. The New Testament writers seldom quote
from the Old Testament exactly, but generally rely upon the Greek
translation called the Septuagint.
Sometimes they quote passages which are not in Scripture at all. "Out of
288 passages quoted from the Old Testament in the New," says Dr. Farrar,
"there are but 53 which agree accurately with the original Hebrew. In 76
the New Testament differs both from the Greek and the Hebrew; and in 99
the New Testament, the Greek, and the Hebrew are all variant."
On the face of it, then, the Bible is doomed. A book of which all these
things can be said, without the slightest fear of contradiction, must
sooner or later be dropped as the Word of God. It will be recognised as
a human composition.
Meanwhile, those who live by the Bible, and are professionally
interested in its "supremacy," as Dr. Farrar calls it, cast about a
for means of giving it a fresh reputation. The old conception of it is
fatally discredited; a new one may give it a fresh lease of life.
Evidently there is only one direction open to the theological trimmers.
They must start another theory of inspiration--one that will conserve
the "sacred" character of the Bible in spite of every difficulty that
has been, or can be discovered.
The Bible is no longer to be called _the_ Word of God. Ruskin says, and
Dr. Farrar seems to quote it approvingly, that "it is a grave heresy (or
wilful source of division) to call any book, or collection of books, the
Word of God." Ten pages later, however, we are told that the Bible, as a
whole, _may_ be spoken of as the Word of God, because it "contains words
and messages of God to the human soul." This word "contains" is the
magical spell by which Dr. Farrar seeks to dissipate all difficulties.
He finds the expression in the Church Articles, in the Book of Homilies,
and in the Shorter Catechism. But in order to see how illegitimate is
Dr. Farrar's use of these authorities, let us take his extract from the
last of them: "The Word of God which is _contained_ in the Scriptures of
the Old and New Testament is the only rule to direct us how we may enjoy
and glorify Him." Is it not clear that the word "_contained_" is used
here in its primary meaning? Did not the writers mean that the Word of
God is included or comprehended in the Old and New Testament only, and
is not to be found elsewhere? Would they not have been shocked to hear a
clergyman of the Church of England say that some parts of the Bible were
_not_ the Word of God? If so, their use of the word "contain" lends no
countenance to the use made of it by Dr. Farrar. And is it not a shallow
trick upon our intelligence to argue that different persons, using
the same word, necessarily mean the same thing? Words are the money of
fools, as Hobbes said, but only the counters of wise men. We must get at
the actual value of the thing which is symbolised. And the moment we do
this, we see that Dr. Farrar's theory of the Word of God is _not_ the
same as that of the gentlemen who drew up the Shorter Catechism. They
would indeed have laughed at his "contains," and excommunicated and
imprisoned him, and perhaps burnt him at the stake. It is not by
torturing one poor word ten thousand ways that such wide differences can
be reconciled.
Passing by this ridiculous legerdemain, let us take Dr. Farrar's theory
for what it is worth. The Bible _contains_ the Word of God. But how are
we to find it? What is the criterion by which we are to separate God's
word from man's word? Dr. Farrar bids us use "the ordinary means of
criticism and spiritual discernment." But such a vague generality is
nothing but verbiage. What we want is the _criterion_. Now the nearest
approach to it in all Dr. Farrar's pages is the following:--
"Is it not a plain and simple rule that anything in the Bible which
teaches, or is misinterpreted to teach, anything which is not in
accordance with the love, the gentleness, the truthfulness of Christ's
Gospel, is _not_ God's word to us, however clearly it stands on the page
of Scripture?"
This is at best a _negative_ criterion; and, on close examination, it
turns out to be no criterion at all. The criterion, to be valid, must be
_external_ to the book itself. Dr. Farrar's criterion is _internal_.
He picks out one part of the Bible as the standard for judging all
the rest. This is entirely arbitrary. Moreover, it would soon be found
impossible in practice. Dr. Farrar's criterion may be "plain," but it
is not so "simple," except in the uncomplimentary sense of the word.
For "Christ's Gospel," by which the rest of the Bible is to be tried,
is itself a very composite and self-contradictory thing. Further, if
all that agrees with Christ's Gospel is the Word of God, is it not
superfluous as being a mere repetition? Dr. Farrar would therefore bring
the actual, valid Word of God within the compass of the Four Gospels;
dismissing all the rest, like the Arabian Caliph who commanded a whole
library to be burnt on the ground that if the books differed from
the Koran they were pernicious, and if they agreed with it they were
useless. Nor is this all. Dr. Farrar admits that the discourses of
Jesus Christ are not reported with accuracy. Therefore, having made the
Gospels the criterion of the Word of God in the rest of the Bible, he
would be obliged to select some special passages as the criterion of the
Word of God in the rest of the Gospels. This is what Shakespeare would
call a world-without-end process.
Candidly, it seems to us that if the Bible _is_ not the Word of God, but
only _contains_ the Word of God--that is to say, if it is partly God's
word and partly man's word--the clergy of all denominations should unite
in publishing a Bible with the divine and human parts clearly specified
by being printed in different types. And surely, if the Bible is in
any sense inspired, it should be possible, by a new and final act of
inspiration, to settle this distinction for ever.
Allowing the clergy to meditate this holy enterprise, we proceed to
consider Dr. Farrar's theory of inspiration. Of course he discards
the old theory of verbal dictation; indeed, he calls it "irreverent,"
because it attributes to God what modern men of intelligence and good
manners would be ashamed to own. He even quarrels with the very term
inspiration as "vague," and says it would be "a boon if some less
ambiguous word could be adopted." Four theories, he says, have been
entertained in the Christian Church. The first is the _mechanical_
theory, which implies that the Holy Ghost dictated, and the inspired
penmen were merely his amanuenses. The second is the _dynamic_, which
recognises "the indefeasible guidance of the Holy Spirit." The third is
that of _illumination_, which confines the divine guidance to matters of
faith and doctrine. The fourth is that of _general_ inspiration, which
regards the Holy Spirit as influencing the writers in the same way as it
influences "other noble and holy souls." This fourth theory is the one
which Dr. Farrar himself affects. Every pure and sweet influence upon
the human soul, he says, is a heavenly inspiration. We owe to it "all
that is best and greatest in philosophy, eloquence, and song." Haydn
said of his grandest chorus in the "Creation": "Not from me but from
above it all has come!" "There is inspiration," says Dr. Farrar,
"whenever the spirit of God makes itself heard in the heart of man."
Apparently--for we can never be quite sure of Dr. Farrar--the only
superiority of the Bible lies in the fact that "the voice of God" speaks
to us "far more intensely" out of it than out of "any [other?] form of
human speech."
Such a theory of inspiration is too vague and universal. Sooner than
give up inspiration altogether Dr. Farrar is prepared to share it all
round. But is not proving too much as bad as proving too little? If the
Bible is only inspired--where it _is_ inspired--in the same sense as
other books are inspired; if the difference is not one of kind, but
simply of degree; then it is really idle to talk about its inspiration
any longer. The word _inspiration_ loses all its original meaning. It
becomes a poetical expression, implying nothing supernatural, but merely
the exaltation of natural powers and faculties. God is then behind the
Bible only as God is behind everything; and Christianity, ceasing to be
a special revelation, becomes only a certain form of Theism.
This loose theory of _general_ inspiration will doubtless serve the
present turn of the clergy, who have to face a general and growing
dissatisfaction with the Bible. But it cannot live very long in a
scientific age. It will be found out in time, like all the Bible
theories that preceded it. The first Protestant dogma was the
infallibility of Scripture. That was exploded by modern science and
textual criticism. Then came the dogma of plenary inspiration, which had
a comparatively short-lived existence, as it was only the old dogma of
infallibility in disguise. Next came the dogma of illumination, which
may be said to have begun with Coleridge and ended with Maurice.
Finally, we have the dogma of general inspiration, which began nowhere
and ends nowhere, which means anything or nothing, and which is a sort
of "heads we win, tails you lose" theory in the hands of the clever
expounders of the Higher Criticism.
Behind the last, as well as the first, of all these theories
of inspiration stands the fatal objection of Thomas Paine, that
inspiration, to be real, must be personal. A man may be sure that God
speaks to him, but how can he be sure that God has spoken to another
man? He may think it possible or probable, but he can never be certain.
What is revelation at first-hand, said Paine, is only hearsay at
second-hand. Real inspiration, therefore, eventuates in mysticism.
The inner light shines, the inner voice speaks; God holds personal
communication with the individual soul. Each believer carries what the
author of _Hudibras_ calls "the dark lanthorn of the spirit," which
"none see by but those who bear it." And the very multiplicity and
diversity of the oracle's deliverances are a proof that in all of them
man is speaking to himself. He questions his gods, and hears only the
echo of his own voice.