'He believed,' says the narrative, and believing was baptized. It is
worth noting, in passing, how the profession of faith without anything
more was considered by the Early Church sufficient. But obviously his
was no true faith. The event showed that it was not.
What was it which made his faith thus unreal?
It rested wholly on the miracles and signs; he 'wondered' when he saw
them. Of course, miracles were meant to lead to faith; but if they did
not lead on to a deeper sense of one's own evil and need, and so to a
spiritual apprehension, then they were of no use.
The very beginning of the story points to the one bond that unites to
God, as being the sense of need and the acceptance with heart and will
of the testimony of Jesus Christ. Such a disposition is shown in the
Samaritans, who make a contrast with Simon in that they believed Philip
_preaching_, while Simon believed him _working miracles_. The true
place of miracles is to attract attention, to prepare to listen to the
word. They are only introductory. A faith may be founded on them, but,
on the other hand, the impressions which they produce may be
evanescent. How subordinate then, their place at the most! And the one
thing which avails is a living contact of heart and soul with Jesus
Christ.
Again, Simon's belief was purely an affair of the understanding. We are
not to suppose, I think, that he merely believed in Philip as a
miracle-worker; he must have had some notion about Philip's Master, and
we know that it was belief in Jesus as the Christ that qualified in the
Apostolic age for baptism. So it is reasonable to suppose that he had
so much of head knowledge. But it was only head knowledge. There was in
it no penitence, no self-abandonment, no fruit in holy desires; or in
other words, there was no heart. It was credence, but not trust.
Now it does not matter how much or how little you know about Jesus
Christ. It does not matter how you have come to that knowledge. It does
not matter though you have received Christian ordinances as Simon had.
If your faith is not a living power, leading to love and
self-surrender, it is really nought. And here, on its earliest conflict
with heathen magic, the gospel proclaims by the mouth of the Apostle
what is true as to all formalists and nominal Christians: 'Thou hast
neither part nor lot in this matter, _for_ thy heart is not right.' One
thing only unites to God--a faith which cleanses the heart, a faith
which lays hold on Christ with will and conscience, a faith which,
resting on penitent acknowledgment of sin, trusts wholly to His great
mercy.
II. An instance of the constant tendency to corrupt Christianity with
heathen superstition.
The Apostles' bestowal of the Holy Ghost, which was evidently
accompanied by visible signs, had excited Simon's desire for so useful
an aid to his conjuring, and he offers to buy the power, judging of
them by himself, and betraying that what he was ready to buy he was
also intending to sell.
The offer to buy has been taken as his great sin. Surely it was but the
outcome of a greater. It was not only what he offered, but what he
desired, that was wrong. He wanted that on 'whomsoever I lay hands, he
may receive the Holy Ghost.' That preposterous wish was quite as bad
as, and was the root of, his absurd offer to bribe Peter. Bribe Peter,
indeed! Some of Peter's successors would have been amenable to such
considerations, but not the horny-handed fisherman who had once said,
'Silver and gold have I none.'
Peter's answer, especially the words of my text, puts the Christian
principle in sharp antagonism to the heathen one.
Simon regards what is sacred and spiritual purely as part of his
stock-in-trade, contributing to his prestige. He offers to buy it. And
the foundation of all his errors is that he regards spiritual gifts as
capable of being received and exercised apart altogether from moral
qualifications. He does not think at all of what is involved in the
very name, 'the Holy Ghost.'
Now, on the other hand, Peter's answer lays down broadly and sharply
the opposite truth, the Christian principle that a heart right in the
sight of God is the indispensable qualification for all possession of
spiritual power, or of any of the blessings which Jesus gives.
How the heart is made right, and what constitutes righteousness is
another matter. That leads to the doctrine of repentance and faith.
The one thing that makes such participation impossible is being and
continuing in 'the gall of bitterness, and the bond of iniquity.' Or,
to put it into more modern words, all the blessings of the Gospel are a
gift of God, and are bestowed only on moral conditions. Faith which
leads to love and personal submission to the will of God makes a man a
Christian. Therefore, outward ordinances are only of use as they help a
man to that personal act.
Therefore, no other man or body of men can do it for us, or come
between us and God.
And in confirmation, notice how Peter here speaks of forgiveness. His
words do not sound as if he thought that he held the power of
absolution, but he tells Simon to go to God who alone can forgive, and
refers Simon's fate to God's mercy.
These tendencies, which Simon expresses so baldly, are in us all, and
are continually reappearing. How far much of what calls itself
Christianity has drifted from Peter's principle laid down here, that
moral and spiritual qualifications are the only ones which avail for
securing 'part or lot in the matter' of Christ's gifts received for,
and bestowed on, men! How much which really rests on the opposite
principle, that these gifts can be imparted by men who are supposed to
possess them, apart altogether from the state of heart of the would-be
recipient, we see around us to-day! _Simony_ is said to be the securing
ecclesiastical promotion by purchase. But it is much rather the belief
that 'the gift of God can be purchased with' anything but personal
faith in Jesus, the Giver and the Gift. The effects of it are patent
among us. Ceremonies usurp the place of faith. A priesthood is exalted.
The universal Christian prerogative of individual access to God is
obscured. Christianity is turned into a kind of magic.