detail on the subject; but the chief obstacles to a faith in Jesus,
independently of the evidence on which it rests, are, I suppose, these
TWO.
1. A confused idea that the law of nature is sufficient to the
salvation of mankind;
2. The mysterious nature of the Christian revelation.
Reason, they say, is a sufficient guide in matters of Religion;
therefore, Christianity is unnecessary: Again, Christianity is all over
mysterious; therefore, it is unreasonable.
Now, it will not be presuming too much to say, that the greater
advances any man makes in true knowledge, the more insignificant must
these _two_ great stumbling-blocks of infidelity needs appear to him.
1. And, _first, for the sufficiency of nature in matters of religion_.
Whether _nature_ be a sufficient guide in _morals_, let the history of
mankind declare. They who know most of that history, and have, besides,
a philosophic knowledge of human nature, are the proper judges of the
question; and to that tribunal I leave it: the _rather_, because,
though it be very clear what its decision must be, I hold, that what is
most essential to the Christian religion (which is a very different
thing from _a republication of the law of nature_) is not at all
concerned in it.
Let the law of nature be what it will, under this idea of a guide in
morals, let Socrates, if you please, be as great a master of it, as
Jesus, still the importance of Christianity remains, and is indeed very
little affected by that concession.
Our religion teaches, that man is under the sentence of mortality,
and that immortal life in happiness, (which is the true idea of
Gospel-salvation) is the gift of God through Christ Jesus. These
it relates as _two_ facts, which it requires us to believe on its
own authority; _facts_, which could not otherwise have come to our
knowledge, and on which the whole superstructure of Christianity is
raised.
Now, let the men of reason, the men who say, WE SEE, tell us, whether
they are sure that these facts are false; and, if they are not, whether
they know of any natural means by which _that sentence of mortality_
can be reversed, or _that gift of immortality_ can be secured.
Yes, they will say, by _a moral and virtuous life_, and by a _religious
trust_, which nature dictates, _in the goodness of the Deity_. What? Is
any man so assured of his own virtue, as that he dares expect so great
things from it? Does he think it so perfect and of such efficacy, as
that it should remove a curse which lies on his nature, that it should
redeem him from a general sentence, which is gone forth against all
mankind? Is it not enough, that he does his duty (though where is the
man that does that?) and thereby consults his own true interest in
this world, without requiring that his merits should deliver him from
the doom of death; or that, of force, they should compel the divine
_goodness_ to deliver him from it?
But say, that the boundless mercy of God might so far consider the
poor imperfect virtues of his lost creature, as to free him from the
bondage of _death_, will he pretend that he has any claim, even upon
infinite goodness itself, for _eternal life in glory_? All that reason
suggests is, that, some way or other, either in this state or in one to
come, he shall be no loser by his virtue: but so immense a reward is
surely, not of _right_; and reason is too modest to entertain the least
expectation, or even thought of it.
You see then what the _sufficiency of nature_ comes to: It leaves us,
for any thing we know, under the sentence of _death_; and, for any
thing we can do, very much short of _eternal life_. And is this all we
get by following _nature_, as our all-sufficient guide, and rejecting
the assistance of _Revelation_? Are men satisfied to live, as they do
here, and then to die for ever; and all this, rather than condescend to
lay hold on the mercy of God through Jesus? If they are, their ambition
is very moderate; but, surely, this is not a moderation of that sort
which is prescribed by _reason_.
2. But they fly now (and it is their last resource) to the _mysterious
nature of the dispensation itself_, which, they say, is perfectly
irreconcileable with the principles of natural reason.
That Christianity is _mysterious_, that is, that it acquaints us
with many things which our faculties could not have discovered, and
which they cannot fully comprehend or satisfactorily explain, is an
undoubted truth.—The pride of reason, when, from human sciences, where
it saw much and thought it saw every thing, it turns to these divine
studies, is something mortified to find a representation of things
very different from what it should previously have conceived, and
impenetrable in many respects by its utmost diligence and curiosity.
But then, when further exercised and improved, the same reason
presently checks this presumption, as seeing very clearly, that there
are inexplicable difficulties every where, in the world of _nature_, as
well as in that of _grace_, and as seeing too, that, if both systems
be the product of infinite wisdom, it could not be otherwise. Next,
a thinking man, as his knowledge extends, and his mind opens, easily
apprehends, that, in such a scheme as that of Christianity, which runs
up into the arcana of the divine councils in regard to man, there will
be many particulars of a new and extraordinary nature; and that such a
dispensation must partake of the obscurity in which its divine Author
chuses to veil his own glory.
Thus, we see, how the objections to the mysterious nature of the Gospel
spring out of pride and inconsideration, and are gradually removed, as
the mind advances in the further knowledge of God and itself.
Now, suppose there had been no mysterious parts in this Revelation,
and that every thing had lain clear and open to the comprehension of
natural reason, what would the improved understanding of a wise man
have thought of it? Would he not have said, that the whole was of mere
human contrivance? since, if it were indeed of divine, it must needs
have spoken its original by some marks of divinity, that is, by some
signatures of incomprehensible wisdom, impressed upon it. Consider,
I say, whether this judgment would not have been made of such a
Revelation; and whether there be not more sense and reason in it, than
in that _other_ conclusion which many have drawn from the mysterious
nature of the Christian religion.
IT MAY APPEAR, from these cursory observations, that _faith
and knowledge_ are no such enemies to each other, as they have
been sometimes represented; and that neither the _evidences_ of
Christianity, nor the _doctrines_ of it, need decline the scrutiny
of the most improved reason. Conclude, therefore, when ye hear a
certain language on this subject, that it is equally foolish, as it is
indecent; and that ye may safely profess a _belief_ in Jesus, without
risking the reputation of your _wisdom_.
Another conclusion is, that, when unbelievers lay claim to a more than
ordinary share of sense and penetration, we may allow their claim, if
we see fit, for other reasons, but NOT for their disdainful rejection
of our divine religion. We must have better proofs of their sufficiency
than this, before we subscribe to it. We may even be allowed to
conclude, from this circumstance of their unbelief, that they either
_see not_ so clearly as they pretend, or that the case is still worse
with them, if they do. They are ready to ask us, indeed, in the prompt
language of the Pharisees to our Lord, _Are we blind also?_ To which
question, having such an answer at hand, we need look out for no other
than that of Jesus, _If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now
ye say we see_, THEREFORE _your sin remaineth_.
SERMON XIX.
PREACHED MAY 12, 1771.
1 COR. viii. 1.
_Knowledge puffeth up; but Charity edifieth._
There is none of our little accomplishments, or advantages, which we
are not apt to make the foundation of pride and vanity. When, upon
comparing ourselves with others, in any respect, we _entertain_ a
higher opinion of ourselves than we ought, this sentiment is called
PRIDE. And when we are forward to _express_ the good opinion, we have
of ourselves, to others, in our words or actions, (even though such
opinion be but proportioned to our desert) we give to this disposition
the name of VANITY. Each of these affections of the mind is, a real
vice: _Pride_, because it violates truth and reason; and _Vanity_,
because it violates Christian charity.
But, of all the subjects of comparison which betray us into these
vices, none is thought to produce them so easily, and to inflame them
to that degree, as _learning or knowledge_. And we see the reason why
it should be so. For knowledge arises from the exertion of our best
and noblest faculties; those faculties which distinguish us to most
advantage, not only from the inferior creatures, but from each other.
Hence we are naturally led to place a higher value on this, than other
acquisitions; and to make our pride and boast of that which is, indeed,
the glory of our nature.
The observation then seems well founded; and the Apostle advances no
more than what experience teaches, when he affirms in the text—THAT
KNOWLEDGE PUFFETH UP. Where, however, we are to take notice, that the
remedy for this vice is not ignorance (which, though for different
reasons, is as apt to engender pride and self-conceit, as knowledge
itself) but Christian love and charity. For, when the Apostle had
brought this charge against _knowledge_, _that it puffeth up_, he does
not say that _ignorance_ keeps men humble, but that _charity edifieth_.
Whence it appears, that, to correct this excess of self-love, which we
call pride, the Apostle would not have us renounce the way of learning
and knowledge, but only increase our love and respect for mankind.
Charity, then, is the proper cure of LEARNED PRIDE; and of
those unfriendly vices, which spring from it, _sufficiency_,
_self-importance_, and _ostentation_: And it will be worth our while
to consider, _in what_ RESPECTS, and _by what_ MEANS, this divine
principle of charity contributes to that end. And this it does
1. By keeping men steady to that OBJECT, which they ought to propose to
themselves in the cultivation of knowledge, I mean the _edification of
each other—charity edifieth_.
One of the ancient sects of philosophy carried their admiration of
_knowledge_ so far, that they made it _the supreme good_ of man, and
built their whole _moral_ system (if it might be called such) on
this extravagant idea. Whereas, common sense, as well as religion,
teaches, that knowledge, like our other faculties and attainments,
is only an instrument of doing good to others; not to be regarded by
us, as the end of moral action, or a good simply in itself, but as
one of those means by which we may express our moral character; and
promote the common interest of society, which (in subordination to
the will and glory of God) is the proper end of man. Now, if we keep
this end in view, which Christian charity sets before us, we shall
neither cultivate knowledge for its own sake (which is a strain of
fanaticism, unsuited to our present condition); nor for the sake of
that complacency, which may be apt to result from it; nor solely, for
any other selfish purpose to which it may serve: but we shall chiefly
and ultimately refer it to the use and edification of our brother; and
shall therefore suppress that inordinate elation of heart and display
of vain-glory, which tend so much to obstruct the success of our
applications to him in this way.
2. Charity, estimating the value of knowledge by the good it _actually_
does to others, finds the very foundation of pride and vanity, in the
application of it, in a great measure taken away. For, how divine
a thing soever knowledge may appear to the mind, when heated by
speculation, we shall find, in practice, that it falls very much short
of those glorious ideas we had formed of it; that the _real service_,
we are enabled to do to mankind by our most improved faculties, affords
but little occasion to the gratulations of self-esteem (which, when
resulting from such service, are, no doubt, more pardonable than in
any other case whatsoever); and that, if such gratulations arise in
us from some slight and partial services done to others, they are
sufficiently checked and mortified by the general ill success of our
most strenuous endeavours, and best concerted designs. The philosopher
and divine, after many studious days and sleepless nights, are ready to
promise to themselves great effects from their systems and apologies.
Alas, the world is little bettered or improved by them. Its amusements,
its follies, its vices, take their usual course. Reason and knowledge
are found but feeble instruments of its conversion. It attends so
little, or so negligently to its instructors, that it remains almost as
uninformed, and as corrupt as before.
Such is too commonly the issue of our best pains in the cultivation of
moral and religious truth! Or, if in some rare cases it be otherwise,
and some sensible, some considerable, benefit result from them, still
it will be far less than the good man wishes and intends. For, burning
with this holy zeal of love to mankind, the charitable instructor of
the ignorant is in the condition of HIM, whose ambitious zeal the poet
so well describes: His successes do but inflame his desires; and _he
reckons he has done nothing, so long as there remains any thing for him
to do_[131].
So certainly does charity, in this work of learned instruction,
disconcert and subdue all the projects and emotions of pride!
3. Charity takes a sure way to counteract those movements of vanity and
self-applause, which the pursuits of knowledge are apt to excite, _by
confining our attention to solid and important subjects_. For, when the
mind is thus employed, it naturally refers its acquisitions to _use_,
not vanity; or, if vanity should still find room to spring up with this
crop of useful knowledge, its growth would be much checked by this
benevolent and social attention: It would either die away amidst these
higher regards of duty and public spirit, or would lose at least very
much of its malignant nature, and of those qualities which render it so
offensive to mankind. Whereas, when we employ ourselves on frivolous
or unimportant subjects, which offer nothing to our view besides the
ingenuity of the speculation, and the distinction of the pursuit, these
ideas are so present to the mind, and engross it so much, that vanity
and self-esteem almost necessarily spring from them, luxuriant and
unrestrained.
Besides, the mind, which loves to justify itself in all its operations,
finding but little real use or worth in these disquisitions, strives to
make itself amends by placing an imaginary value upon them; and grows
so much the more enamoured of them, as it foresees and expects the
neglect and indifference of other men.
Hence, the sufficiency of such persons as wholly employ their time
and pains in the more abstract studies, in the minuter parts of
learning, and universally in such inquiries as terminate only or
chiefly in curiosity and amusement, is more than ordinarily glaring
and offensive. Their minds are _puffed up_ with immoderate conceptions
of their own importance; and this unnatural tumour they are neither
able, nor willing, to conceal from others. The secret is, they would
persuade themselves first, and then the world, that their studies and
occupations are less frivolous, than they in earnest believe or suspect
them, at least, to be.
Now, Charity, indisposing us to these fruitless speculations, and
delighting to cultivate such parts of knowledge as have a real dignity
in them, and are productive of light and use, tends directly to keep
us modest, by taking away this so natural temptation to pride and
self-conceit.
4. Further, we may observe that, of the more important studies
themselves, such as we call _practical_, are less liable to this
perversion of vanity, than the speculative, to what important ends
soever they may ultimately be referred. And the reason of the
difference is, that, in the former case, the calls of charity upon
us are more instant. We cannot stir a step in practical meditations
without considering what use and benefit may result from them: while
the speculative seem to terminate in themselves; are pursued, for the
time at least, for their own sakes; and so, by keeping the ultimate
end out of sight, do not divert the mind enough from that complacent
attention to its own ingenious researches, whence the passion of pride
is apt to take its rise.
Not but there are some parts of knowledge, which, though called
practical, and referring indeed to practice, have a different
effect. But these are such, as are in their own nature boastful and
ostentatious; calculated not so much for use, as pleasure; or, at most,
terminating in some private and selfish end. The proficients in these
popular arts and studies are tempted to regard, not the good _simply_,
which their knowledge might do to others, but the general influence of
it, and the consideration, which, by means of such influence, whether
to a good or bad purpose, they may draw to themselves.
Of this sort was, too commonly, the study of eloquence in the ancient,
and sometimes, I doubt, in the modern world. Vanity is apt to mix
itself with these practical studies, and to result from them; the
question generally being, not how the greatest good may be effected by
them, but how the greatest impression may be made.
Divine and moral subjects, _practically_ considered (though vanity may
creep in here), are more secure from this abuse. For, respecting the
spiritual and moral good of men, distinctly and exclusively, a regard
to the end must correct and purify the means. And thus we are not
surprised to find, that, while a vain rhetorician[132] is said to have
boasted, in the hearing of all Greece, that _he knew every thing_, the
sober moralist of Athens[133] readily confessed, _he knew nothing_.
5. Another way, in which _charity_ operates to the suppression of
_pride_, is, _by increasing our good opinion of other men_. _Pride_ is
an elation of mind upon comparing ourselves with others, and observing
how much we excel them in any respect; and, in the present instance,
how much we excel them in point of _knowledge_. When the mind is wholly
occupied by _self-love_, it easily magnifies its own attainments,
and as easily diminishes those of others: whence the advantage, on a
comparison, must needs be to _itself_. But when _charity_, or the love
of others, prevails in us to any degree, we are willing to do them
_justice_ at least, and _but_ justice to ourselves: nay, our affection
to others makes us willing to see their good qualities in the fairest
light, to magnify to ourselves their excellencies, and to lessen or
overlook their defects; while on the other hand, it inclines us readily
to forego any undue claims of pre-eminence, and even to abate something
of what we might strictly claim to ourselves: whence the comparison
must be more favourable to _others_; and our pride, if not entirely
prevented, must be considerably reduced. Increase this charity, and the
pride still lessens; till, at length, it is almost literally true, as
the Apostle divinely expresses it, that, _in lowliness of mind, each
esteems other better than himself_; _better_, in respect to _knowledge_,
as to every thing else.
6. Lastly, charity, not only by its qualities, but in the _very nature
of things_, is destructive of all _pride_. For what is pride, but an
immoderate _love_ of ourselves? And what is charity, but a fervent
_love_ of other men? It is the same passion of love, only directed to
different objects. When it is concentred in a man’s self, it naturally
grows abundant and excessive: divert some part of it upon others,
and the selfish love is proportionably restrained. Just as seas and
rivers would overflow their shores and banks, if they had no outlet
or circulation: but issuing forth in useful streams or vapours to
refresh the land, they are kept in due proportion, and neither deluge
the rest of the globe, nor drain themselves. Thus the affection of
_love_, if too much confined, would overflow in _pride and arrogance_;
but, when part of it is diffused on others, the rest is innoxious and
even salutary, as supplying the mind only with a _just and moderate
self-esteem_.
Hence we see that charity, by its very operation, corrects the excesses
of self-love; and therefore of learned pride (which is _one_ of those
excesses) as well as any other vice, which the confined and inordinate
exercise of that passion is apt to produce.
In these several ways then, whether, by prescribing the proper _end_
of knowledge, _the edification of our neighbour_, an attention to
which must needs lessen the temptation to pride; or, by suggesting how
_imperfectly_ that end is attained by knowledge, which must mortify,
rather than inflame our pride; or, by confining the candidates of
knowledge _to solid and important subjects_, and, of _these_, rather to
_practical_ subjects, than those of speculation, both which pursuits
are unfavourable to the growth of pride; or, by increasing _our good
opinion of others_, engaged in the same pursuits of knowledge, which
must so far take from our fancied superiority over them; or, lastly,
_by the necessary effect of its operation_, which is essentially
destructive of that vicious self-love, which is the parent of such
fancies—In _all_ these respects, I say, it is clearly seen how
CHARITY, whose office it is to _edify_ others, is properly applied to
the cure of that tumour of the mind, which knowledge generates, and
which we know by the name of LEARNED PRIDE.
There are many other considerations, no doubt, which serve to mortify
this pride; but nothing tends so immediately to remove it, as the
increase of charity. It is therefore to be wished, that men, engaged in
the pursuits of learning, would especially cultivate in themselves this
divine principle. Knowledge, when tempered by humility, and directed to
the ends of charity, is indeed a valuable acquisition; and, though no
fit subject of vain-glory, is justly entitled to the esteem of mankind.
It should further be remembered, that this virtue, which so much adorns
knowledge, is the peculiar characteristic grace of our religion;
without which, all our attainments, of whatever kind, are fruitless
and vain. Let the man of Science, then, who has succeeded to his wish
in rearing some mighty fabric of human knowledge, and from the top of
it is tempted with a vain complacency to _look down_, as the phrase
is, _on the ignorant vulgar_; let such an one not forget to say with
HIM, who had been higher yet, even as high as _the third Heaven[134]_,
“_Though I understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and have not
charity, I am nothing_[135].”
SERMON XX.
PREACHED NOVEMBER 19, 1769.
ACTS OF THE APOSTLES, xxvi. 9.
_I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary
to the name of Jesus of Nazareth._
The case of the Apostle, Paul, as represented by himself in these
words, is so remarkable, that it cannot but deserve our attentive
consideration.
The account of _those many things_, which he thought himself obliged
_to do against the name of Jesus_, during his unbelieving state, he
gives us in the chapter whence the text is taken. _These things_,
continues he in his apology to king Agrippa, _I did in Jerusalem, and
many of the Saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority
from the chief-priests; and when they were put to death, I gave my
voice against them. And punished them oft in every synagogue, and
compelled them to blaspheme; and being exceedingly mad against them, I
persecuted them, even to strange cities._ And then he proceeds to speak
of his going, with the same authority, and the same zeal, to persecute
the Christians that were at Damascus; when, in his journey thither, he
was suddenly stopt in the career of his impiety by _a heavenly vision_,
which had the effect to overturn his former persuasion, and to make a
full convert of him to the Christian faith.