IV.

"And when he had said this he fell asleep."

--ACTS VII. 60.

At death, as we have seen, the spirit and the soul are separated from the

body, and, still united together, are launched into the unseen world. For

though the soul is not the spirit, these two form the incorporeal parts

of our compound nature, are the two immaterial elements of that trinity

of life,--body, soul, spirit, which are united to make one human being.

They both survive death. For death is the separation of the soul from

the body, not of the soul from the spirit. But it must be remembered

that the spirit, when at death it is, in company with the soul, withdrawn

from the body, passes into the Intermediate State, shaped and stamped

with the impress which the life on earth has fastened upon it. The

spirit enters the new life, either enslaved, disfigured, degraded,

dishonoured by the sensual soul, or else strong, free, true, purified in

its victory over the flesh. It carries with it, in short, the character

which in life it has acquired.

It may be well to fall into the usage of ordinary speech, and speak of

that which survives death as the _soul_, so long as we keep in mind what

is really meant, viz., that it is the soul _united with the spirit_ which

survives death.

When, then, we say that the disembodied soul enters the Intermediate

Life, we are bound to consider in what condition it enters it. For

people sometimes argue thus: "Yes! I grant that there will be an interval

or waiting time between death and the Day of Judgment. But then, during

that time, is not the soul asleep? Surely the dying are said to fall

asleep. Then, if asleep, they are unconscious, and to the unconscious

soul the Intermediate State will seem to last but for an instant, and

will no sooner be entered upon than it will be practically at an end. For

complete insensibility to the passing and movement of time is one of the

effects of complete unconsciousness. And, in truth, is it not the case

that the Bible over and over again speaks of death as a state of sleep or

taking rest? {41a} Thus the Intermediate State is in fact a blank. The

eyes close in death, and they remain closed till they open to gaze upon

the glories of the Resurrection, and the terrors of the judgment seat of

Christ. Does not our own Prayer Book sanction this view in her Service

for the Burial of the Dead? {41b} And do we not in common language

ourselves express the same belief when we give to the resting place of

the bodies of the dead the name of 'cemetery,' or sleeping place?"

The answer to all this is that the language which represents death as a

profound slumber is language applicable enough to describe what befalls

the body, but is quite inapplicable when it is used of the soul. Sleep

is distinctly a physical and corporeal function. The soul cannot be

liable to or affected by corporeal influences when it is separated from

the body. The soul cannot sleep. It is the body, in the hushed

stillness of the chamber of death, which seems, now that the last

struggle is over, and the spasm of dying leaves it motionless, to be

sleeping. But even in life, while the body sleeps, the soul is awake. It

is often, during the sleep of the body, even more active than during the

waking hours. In dreams the soul is busy with its fancies. Thoughts

flit this way and that through the mind of the sleeper. Indeed, the body

is more often a hindrance rather than a help to the activities of

thought. To lose all consciousness of the existence of the body, to be

as if the body for the time were not,--this is to set the mind thinking

in freedom unrestrained. For the body and the conscious sensation of the

presence of the body seem to serve to drag down and encumber the energy

of thought. A sound through the ear, a sight presented to the eye, a

touch, an ache,--these break off sustained thinking. No wonder, when the

body sleeps profoundly, the soul is often then most active. And will not

this be so when the profoundest sleep of all falls upon the body?

It is clear that the disembodied soul, if we may again go back to the

Bible, is not by our Lord regarded as in a state of lethargy and dull

unconsciousness. "To-day," said He, "shalt thou be with Me in Paradise."

If this promise was meant to be a blessing and a solace it was meant to

be consciously _felt_ as a blessing and a solace. How else could the

thief have been in any true sense with Christ? S. Paul said, "For me to

live is Christ, to die is gain." {43} Gain! Wherein could it be a gain

to him to die, if to die was to exchange that eager, active vitality, so

full of welcome pain and happy suffering, so full of a service, whose

fruits were rich in blessing,--to exchange all this for dull heaviness

and blank oblivion?

In the narrative of the rich man and Lazarus, which, as we saw, describes

the Intermediate State, the rich man is said to have "lifted up his eyes

being in torments." So, then, his pain was felt. He was conscious; he

reflected; he remembered; he spoke. Once more, in a remarkable passage

in the First Epistle of S. Peter, to which, on a future occasion, I shall

again refer, our Lord is spoken of as "having been put to death in the

flesh, but quickened," _i.e._, made alive, "in spirit" {44}; words which,

whatever the context may mean, can only have the force of bringing the

effect of death in its relation to Christ's human body into sharp

contrast with its effect in relation to His human spirit. In respect of

His human body He was put to death; but in respect of His human spirit He

was quickened or lived, lived still, in Paradise, though His body was

dead. I need not, I think, refer to other passages. It is abundantly

clear, both from the necessity of the thing, and from the obvious

testimony of the Bible, that the soul still lives, still is awake, still

is conscious.

What, then, follows from the soul's consciousness in and through the

passage of death? Obviously this,--that the life of the soul goes on,

and is therefore the life of the same soul, sustained without break or

interruption, after death, by an unsuspended continuity of the

consciousness of personal identity. For of what is the soul still

conscious? Of itself. The life therefore of the soul after death is one

with the life of the soul before death. The same soul lives on. The

only change to it is the absence of the body, which has been withdrawn

from it, and is laid in the ground, and dissolves into dust. And this

continuous consciousness of identity means that the soul's character is

preserved unchanged and unaffected by the shock of the separation. For a

character it had been contracting during its sojourn in the body, a

character of its own. The spiritualized soul before death is a

spiritualized soul after death. The animalized soul before death remains

after death an animalized soul. The righteous is righteous still. The

holy, the pure, the faithful, the devout, the true, are true, and devout,

and faithful, and pure, and holy still. The wicked and tainted soul is

still wicked and tainted when it enters the unseen, and begins its life

in the Intermediate State. It is on the other side what it was on this

side. Death,--the crisis and shock of death,--makes no change, no other

change than this, that it strips off the outer clothing which enveloped

the soul. It leaves the soul the same, no better, no worse. This is

what is implied in the personal identity of the soul. It means the

continuity of consciousness, and therefore continuity of character.

Do we cling to some vague and fanciful expectation that the mere act of

dying, so to call it, will itself work a great change upon the soul, will

blot out our sins, will clear away our imperfections, will in an instant

heal the wounds and scars, which evil habits, long inured in us, have

wrought upon the soul? It will do nothing of the sort. We shall be no

better, no holier on the other side than we were on this, no more fitted

for heaven than when we died. If this be so,--and, so far as we can see,

it must be so,--how much does it behove us to fear greatly the peril we

incur by a careless and GOD-forgetting life! "Israel doth not know,"

said the prophet, "My people doth not consider." {47} That was the pity

of it. It was the thoughtlessness, and the ignorance which came of it,

that ruined the nation.

Oh! that in life we would look things in the face more steadily! Would

that we were ready to take heed how surely we are, day by day, shaping

and moulding our character for good or for evil, a character which no

shock of dissolution will affect, which will be ours when the crisis

comes to end our probation here, and to usher us, as we are and have

become, into that unseen life beyond!

The Life of the Waiting Soul in the Intermediate State · 第 6 / 11 题