receive honour from one another, and believe, at the same time; as
if there was a physical, at least a moral impossibility, that these
two things should subsist together. And we shall find, perhaps, the
expression no stronger than the occasion required, if, besides other
considerations, we attend to the following; which shew how inconsistent
a true practical faith in the Gospel is with the sollicitous and
undistinguishing pursuit of human glory.
For, I. _The Gospel_ delivers many of its doctrines as inscrutable, and
silences the busy curiosity of our understandings about them: but the
_honour of men_ is frequently obtained by indulging this curiosity, and
pushing the researches of reason into those forbidden quarters.
II. _The Gospel_ demands an humble and reverential awe in the
discussion of all its doctrines; such of them, I mean, as it leaves
most free to human inquiry: but this turn of mind is contrary to that
high courage and daring intrepidity, which the _world_ expects in those
who are candidates for its honour.
III. _The Gospel_ prescribes an uniform and unqualified assent to
whatever it declares of divine things, whether we can or cannot
apprehend the reason of such declaration: but this submission to
authority, the _world_ is ready to call ill-faith, and to consider the
defiance of it, as a mark of superior honesty and virtue.
Thus we see, that WIT, COURAGE, and PROBITY, the three great qualities
we most respect in ourselves, and for which we receive the highest
honour from each other, appear many times to the world with less
advantage in the Christian, than the unbeliever. Not, that Christianity
strips us of these virtues: on the other hand, it requires and
promotes them all, in the proper sense of the words; and they may
really subsist in a higher degree in the _believer_, than any other:
but they will often seem to be more triumphantly displayed by those
who give themselves leave to _disbelieve_; and the prospect of honour,
which that opinion opens to such men, is one of the commonest sources
from which they derive their infidelity.
But to make good this charge against the unbelieving world, and to lay
open the mysteries of that insidious self-love, which prompts them to
aspire to _fame_, by the means of infidelity, it will be necessary to
resume the THREE TOPICS before mentioned, and to enlarge something upon
each of them.
I. FIRST, then, I say, That He, who at all adventures resolves to
obtain the honour of men, _cannot believe_, because the unrestrained
exercise of his WIT, by which he would acquire that honour, is
inconsistent with the genius and principles of our religion.
The fundamental articles of the Gospel are proposed to us, as objects
of faith, not as subjects of inquiry. As they proceed from the source
of light and truth, they are founded, no doubt, in the highest reason;
but they are for the most part, at least in many respects, inscrutable
to our reason. It is enough that we see cause to admit the revelation
itself, upon the evidences given of it: it is not necessary that we
should carry our researches any farther. It is not safe, or decent,
or practicable, in many cases, to do it. The just and sober reasoner
is careful to proceed on clear and distinct ideas, and to stop where
these fail him. But how soon does he arrive at this point? For the
sublime genius of Christianity reminds him, at almost every step, how
impossible it is, with the scanty line of human reason, to fathom
the _deep things of God_; and represses the sallies of his wit and
fancy, with this reflexion—_how unsearchable are his judgments, and
his ways past finding out!_ In a word, where he finds the subject too
obscure for his understanding to penetrate, or too vast for his ideas
to comprehend (and he presently finds this, when he attempts to reason
on the mysteries of the Christian faith) he checks his inquiries, he
believes, and adores in silence.
But now this silence, this adoration, is ill suited to the restless
ambition of the human mind, when it aspires to the reputation of
profound and extensive knowledge. The vain reasoner would signalize
himself on all subjects, the most abstruse and mysterious, in
preference to others; and fears not to carry his presumptuous inquiries
to the seat and throne of God. He questions the revealed truths
of the Gospel as freely as any other; and finding them many times
inexplicable by the principles of human science, he triumphs in the
discovery, applauds his own reach of thought, and dazzles the world
into a high opinion of his wit and parts. The truth is, he decides
on subjects, which he does not, and cannot understand: but the world
sees, he decides upon them; and that is generally enough to attract its
admiration and esteem.
Again: In such parts of revealed Religion, as lie more within the
cognizance of human reason, an inquirer may find difficulties, and
start objections, which the best instructed believer either does not
attempt, or is not able to resolve. Here, the triumph of wit over
faith is thought conspicuous, and is indeed seducing. For, while the
believer has only to confess his own ignorance, the infidel shines in
exposing and inforcing those difficulties and objections: And, when the
ingenuity is all on one side, it is rarely suspected, that reason and
good sense may be, with modesty, on the other.
Nay, where the point in question can be effectually cleared up,
still their will generally seem to be more acuteness in discovering
a difficulty, than in removing it: And thus the subtle caviller in
religious controversy shall have the fortune to pass for a shrewder
man, than the ablest apologist.
And that this advantage of reputation is, indeed, that which free and
libertine reasoners propose to themselves, you will see by calling to
mind the sort of subjects, which they are fondest to treat, and the
sort of character, which they are most proud to assume.
In natural religion, the origin of evil, and God’s moral government,
are their favourite topics: in revealed religion, the fall of human
nature, its restoration by the death and sufferings of Christ, the
incarnation of the Son of God, and the adorable Trinity. But why are
these high subjects picked out to exercise their speculations upon?
subjects, in which the sublimest understanding is absorbed and lost;
subjects, which they well know (for I speak of the abler men in that
party) we have no faculties to comprehend. Why, then, are these
subjects preferred to all others? For an obvious cause: to shew how
ingenious they can be in perplexing human reason, if any believer
should be indiscreet enough to subject these mysterious truths to that
test.
But the character, they assume, declares their purpose no less than the
arguments they delight to treat. For their pride is to affect a sort
of pyrrhonism, or universal doubt and hesitation, even on the plainest
points of morals; to controvert the most received principles and
opinions; and, as the sophists of old, _to make the worse appear the
better reason_, in all questions which they undertake to discuss. Would
you desire a stronger proof of the principle which actuates such men?
II. It appears, then, how the ostentation _of wit_ leads to infidelity.
The affectation of COURAGE is another snare to those, who lie in wait
for the honour of men.
The believer, it has been observed, presumes not to reason at all on
some points of his Religion. In others, he is left at liberty; yet on
these, he reasons, always with great reverence and circumspection.
Now, though this conduct be highly fit and proper, it is not so likely
to strike the observation of men, as a more forward and enterprizing
behaviour. Not only his understanding is restrained, but his spirit,
they say, is cramped and broken. The inconsiderate world, on the other
hand, is taken with bold assertions, and hazardous positions; which
it easily construes into a mark of high courage, as well as capacity.
A fearless turn of mind is a dazzling quality, and we do not always
distinguish between intrepidity and temerity. Thus it comes to pass,
that as the Christian’s love of peace and charity in common life,
so his cautious respect in religious matters, has been treated by
libertine men, as pusillanimity. He is considered, in the fashionable
world, as a tame and spiritless man; and in the learned world, as a
tame and spiritless reasoner.
Hence, when we are bent, at any rate, upon _receiving honour one of
another_, we are tempted to make a display, not of our wit only, but
our courage: And, as nothing is thought a surer indication of this
quality, than to make light of that which the rest of the world hold
sacred, we easily see how a passion for this sort of fame betrays the
unbalanced mind into all the extravagancies of infidelity.
The instances are frequent, and well-known. When the Philosopher of
Malmsbury, in the last century, took upon him to resolve all morality
and all religion into the will of the magistrate, whatever other end he
might have in view, the bold singularity of this paradox was, no doubt,
that which chiefly recommended it to himself, as well as surprized the
world into an opinion of his bravery: though we know, from his story,
that, in fact, he had no more of this virtue, than might well have
consisted with faith, and the fear of God. But vain man oft affects to
make a shew of that which he does not possess: and thus his defect in
true courage, may be the true account of his pretending to so much of
it.
Still, the heart of man is more deceitful, than we have hitherto seen,
or can easily believe: For who,
III. In the last place, would suspect, that an admiration of INTEGRITY
itself, as well as of _wit_ and _courage_, should seduce the unwary
mind into irreligion? Yet so it is, that men, intoxicated with the love
of fame, will sacrifice any virtue, the best quality they have, to the
reputation of it.
The true believer admits, with a full and perfect assent, whatever
he takes to be clearly revealed in the Gospel; the most impenetrable
article of his creed, as well as the simplest proposition in morals.
All stands with him on the same equal footing of divine authority: no
matter, whether he can, or cannot, perceive the grounds of reason, on
which the Revelation is founded.
But now this facility of belief, this entire resignation of the
understanding to the dictates of Heaven, the world is ready to suspect,
of disingenuity. And they who live only in the opinion of that world,
would not be exposed to so dishonourable a suspicion.
The process of their vanity may be traced in this manner. They have
observed, that some persons (of their acquaintance, it may be)
pretend to more faith than they have. They suppose the same thing of
many others; and they suppose too, the rest of the world, the more
intelligent part of it at least, are in the same opinion. But they
pique themselves on their honesty: they will give no man leave to call
in question their good faith; the ornament of their lives, and the
idol of their hearts. And thus, as many men are ill-bred, for fear of
passing in the world for flatterers; so these men are unbelievers, that
they may not be accounted hypocrites.
As extravagant as this turn of mind appears, it cannot be thought
incredible; especially when united, as it may be, with that pride of
understanding, and courage, before mentioned. “It is not for _me_,
(says a presuming inquirer to himself) who am distinguished by a reach
of thought and penetration from the vulgar, to admit, without scruple,
so extraordinary a system, as that of Revelation. I must doubt and
disbelieve, where others see nothing to stop at. Nor is it for a man
of my spirit to endure those shackles of reserve and respect, which
oppress the timid and servile believer. Above all, it becomes the
honesty, I profess, to take no part of my religion upon trust; an easy
submission to what is called authority, is, with discerning men, but
another name for insincerity. As I tender, then, the reputation of my
_wit_, my _courage_, and my _integrity_, it concerns me to take heed
how I entertain a belief; which may, at once, shake the credit of all
these virtues.”
This train of sophistry, you see, is not ill laid; and one conceives
how a mind, transported with the love of false honour, may be caught by
it.
At first, perhaps, the disbelief is _pretended_, only. But
pretences[127], continued for any time, become _realities_. And thus,
what was assumed, to give us the credit of certain virtues with
the world, or with that part of it to which we desire to recommend
ourselves, is at length embraced with a sort of good faith; and we are,
what we have seemed to be, at the instance indeed of our vanity, but,
as we flatter ourselves, for the sake of those very virtues.
Something like this, which I have here described, may have been the
case of a well-known philosopher, who would be thought to crown his
other parts of ingenuity and courage, with the purest probity[128].
This unhappy man, having published to the world an offensive system of
infidelity, and being called to account for it, replies to his censurer
in these words—_The world may calumniate me, as it sees fit; but it
shall never take from me the honour of being the only author of this
age, and of many others, who hath written with good faith_[129].
What shall we say of this strange boast? Was it enthusiasm, or the
pride of virtue, that drew it from him? This _honest_ man, we will say,
might believe himself, when he talked at this rate: but then we must
conclude, that nothing but the most intemperate love of praise could
have wrought him up to so frantic a persuasion.
I suppose, it may now appear how easily we become the dupes of any
favourite passion; and how perfect an insight our Lord had into the
nature of man, when he asserted in the text—_that we cannot believe,
if we will receive honour one of another_. _We cannot_, you see,
_believe_; because, if that honour be the ultimate end and scope of our
ambition, the best faculties we possess, the fairest virtues of our
hearts, will pervert, and, in a manner, force us into infidelity.
Let this humiliating consideration have its full effect upon us.
Above all, let it check, or rather regulate that ardent desire of
fame, which is so predominant in young and ingenuous minds. Let
such learn from it to mistrust their passions, even the most refined
and generous, when they would inquire into the evidences of their
religion. Let them remember that _reason_, pure impartial reason, is
to direct them in this search; that the passion for honour is in all
cases, but particularly in this (where it is so seducing) an unsafe and
treacherous guide; and that, to escape the illusions of infidelity and
a thousand other illusions, to which they will otherwise be exposed
in common life, one certain method will be, To controul their love of
fame, by the love of truth; which is, in other words, _to seek the
honour, that cometh of God, only_.
SERMON XVIII.
PREACHED APRIL 23, 1769.
JOHN, ix. 41.
_Jesus saith to them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but
now ye say we see, therefore your sin remaineth._
These words were spoken by our Lord on occasion of a great miracle
performed by him, in restoring a man _born blind_ to his sight. This
wonderful display of power had its natural effect on the man himself,
in converting him to the faith of Jesus; while the Pharisees, who
had the fullest evidence laid before them of the _fact_, persisted
obstinately in their infidelity. Yet the _blind_ man, on whom this
miracle had been wrought, was one of those whom the Pharisees accounted
_blind_ in understanding, also; in other words, he was a plain
unlettered man; whereas they themselves were _guides to the blind_,
that is, they pretended to a more than ordinary knowledge of the law
and the prophets, by which they were enabled to conduct and enlighten
others.
Jesus, therefore, respecting at once his late restoration of the blind
man’s _sight_, and the different effects of that miracle on the _minds_
of the two parties, applies, with singular elegance, to himself, the
famous prediction of Isaiah—_For judgment_, says he, _am I come into
this world, that they, which see not, might see; and that they who see,
might be made blind_. The Pharisees were, indeed, sharp-sighted enough
to perceive the drift of this application, and therefore said to him,
in the same figurative language, _Are we blind also?_ To whom Jesus
replied in the words of the text, _If ye were blind, ye should have
no sin; but now ye say we see, therefore your sin remaineth_. As if
he had said, “If ye were indeed ignorant of the law and the prophets,
as ye account this poor man to be, ye might have some excuse for not
believing in _me_, who appeal to that law and those prophets for the
proof of my mission; but being so skilled in them, as ye are, and
profess yourselves to be, ye are clearly convicted of a willful, and
therefore criminal, infidelity.”
It is implied, we see, in this severe reproof of the Pharisees, that
knowledge and faith very well consist together, or rather that, where
_knowledge_ is, there _faith_ must needs be, unless a very perverse use
be made of that knowledge.
But to this decision of our Lord, the unbelieving world is ready to
oppose its own maxims. “It sees so little connexion between _faith_
and _knowledge_, that it rather concludes them to be incompatible: It
allows the ignorant, indeed, who cannot _walk by sight_, to _walk by
faith_; but, as for the knowing and intelligent, the men of science and
understanding, it presumes, that _faith_ cannot be required of these;
and that, BECAUSE _they see_, it is too much to expect of them, _to
believe in Jesus_.”
It is true, the persons, who speak thus slightly of _faith_, are
not the most distinguished in the world by their own parts, or
knowledge. But a certain mediocrity of _both_, inflated by vanity, and
countenanced by fashion, is forward to indulge in this free language;
and the mischief done by it to Religion, is so great, that it may not
be amiss to expose, in few words, the indecency and folly of it.
FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE, then, it is said, are at variance with each other.
Why? The answer, I suppose, will be, Because _faith_ is in itself
_unreasonable_; in other words, it will be said, That the _evidences_
of our religion are not convincing, and that the _doctrines_ of it are
not credible.
One word, then, on _each_ of these bold insinuations.
I. The EVIDENCES of _revealed religion_ are so many and various; they
lye so deep, or extend so wide; and consequently the difficulty of
collecting them into one view is so great, that few men have, perhaps,
comprehended the full force and effect of them. At least, none but
persons of very superior industry, as well as understanding, have a
right to pronounce on the total amount of such evidence.
But the _chief_ evidences of the _Christian Religion_ are drawn from
PROPHECIES, and MIRACLES; and who are they who tell us, that these
methods of proof are unreasonable or unsatisfactory?
1. That the argument from PROPHECIES should not convince those, who
have not considered the occasion, and design of them, the purposes
they were intended to serve, and therefore the degree of light and
clearness, with which it was proper they should be given; who have
not studied the language in which those prophecies are conveyed, the
state of the times in which they were delivered, the manners, the
customs, the opinions of those to whom they were addressed; above all,
who have not taken the pains to acquire a very exact and extensive
knowledge of history, and so are not qualified to judge how far they
have been accomplished; that to such persons as these, I say, the
argument from prophecy should not appear to have all that evidence
which believers ascribe to it, is very likely; but then this effect is
to be accounted for, not from their knowledge, but their ignorance,
not from their _seeing_ too clearly, but from their not seeing at all,
or but imperfectly, into the merits of this argument. As for those,
who have searched deepest, and inquired with most care into this kind
of evidence, they depose unanimously in its favour, and profess
themselves to have received conviction from it. So that, although there
may be difficulties in explaining particular prophecies, and though the
completion of some be questioned, or not fully apprehended, yet, on the
whole, there is so much light arising out of this evidence, that it
must be great presumption in any man to say that there is no strength
at all in it. Indeed, if the appeal lie to authority (as it must do,
if men will not, or cannot, inquire for themselves) we can scarce help
concluding that the argument from prophecy carries with it a very
considerable degree of evidence, since we find that such a man as
Newton, not only submitted to this evidence himself, but thought it no
misapplication of his great talents, to illustrate and enforce it. Yet,
such is the judgment or temper of our leaders[130] in infidelity, that
they had rather turn this very circumstance to the discredit of human
nature itself (exhibited in its fairest form, and shining out with full
lustre, in the virtues and accomplishments of that divine man) than
allow it to do honour to that immortal object of their fear and spite,
revealed religion.
2. The other great foundation of our faith is laid in MIRACLES; a sort
of evidence, which may be estimated without that learning, or that
sagacity, which is required in the case of _prophecies_; and which some
men therefore, out of the abundance of their common sense, have taken
the freedom to account of little weight or value. Yet, what opinion
soever these persons may have of their own understandings, they will
scarce be able to convince a reasonable man that this evidence is not
conclusive, and even incontestible, if they will but place it in a
fair and just light. For the question is not concerning the evidence
of miracles in _general_, but of miracles so circumstanced and so
attested as those of the _Gospel_. Now, when the Religion to which
this attestation is given, has nothing in it which appears unworthy
of the Deity; when the purpose for which the supposed miracles are
wrought is such as must be allowed the most important of any that, in
our ideas, could enter into the divine counsels with regard to mankind;
when these miracles have further the advantage of being attested by
the most unexceptionable characters, and of being recorded in books,
written soon after they were _wrought_, and by those who _saw_ them
wrought, and in books too, which have been transmitted, without any
note of suspicion on them, to our times; when, lastly, these miracles
have all the circumstances of public notoriety attending them, when no
contemporary evidence discredits, and when many otherwise inexplicable
facts and events, suppose and confirm them; when such miracles, I say,
as these, and under such circumstances only, are alledged in support of
the Christian Revelation, it must be a very extraordinary turn of mind
that can reject, as nothing, the evidence resulting from them. With
any other miracles, however numerous, however confidently asserted, or
plausibly set forth, we have nothing to do. There may have been ten
thousand impostures of this sort, in the world. But _these_ miracles
speak their own credibility so strongly, that they are admitted, on
human testimony, with the highest reason; and it must be more than a
slender metaphysical argument, taken from their contrariety to what is
called experience, which can prevent our belief of them, and overpower
the natural sense of the human mind.
It seems then, even on this slight view of the subject, that, if these
two capital arguments from _prophecies and miracles_, for the truth of
Christianity, appear inconclusive to unbelievers, the cause must be
some other than a want of that evidence, which may satisfy a reasonable
man.
II. But, perhaps the DOCTRINES of Christianity are such as revolt the
rational mind, and are not capable of being supported by any evidence.
Let us inquire then what truth there is in this _second_ allegation of
unbelievers.