MIRACLES.
Two means of proof--miracles and the accomplishment of
prophecies--could alone, in the opinion of the contemporaries of
Jesus, establish a supernatural mission. Jesus, and especially his
disciples, employed these two processes of demonstration in perfect
good faith. For a long time, Jesus had been convinced that the
prophets had written only in reference to him. He recognized himself
in their sacred oracles; he regarded himself as the mirror in which
all the prophetic spirit of Israel had read the future. The Christian
school, perhaps even in the lifetime of its founder, endeavored to
prove that Jesus responded perfectly to all that the prophets had
predicted of the Messiah.[1] In many cases, these comparisons were
quite superficial, and are scarcely appreciable by us. They were most
frequently fortuitous or insignificant circumstances in the life of
the master which recalled to the disciples certain passages of the
Psalms and the Prophets, in which, in consequence of their constant
preoccupation, they saw images of him.[2] The exegesis of the time
consisted thus almost entirely in a play upon words, and in quotations
made in an artificial and arbitrary manner. The synagogue had no
officially settled list of the passages which related to the future
reign. The Messianic references were very liberally created, and
constituted artifices of style rather than serious reasoning.
[Footnote 1: For example, Matt. i. 22, ii. 5, 6, 15, 18, iv. 15.]
[Footnote 2: Matt. i. 23, iv. 6, 14, xxvi. 31, 54, 56, xxvii. 9, 35;
Mark xiv. 27, xv. 28; John xii. 14. 15, xviii. 9, xix. 19, 24, 28,
36.]
As to miracles, they were regarded at this period as the indispensable
mark of the divine, and as the sign of the prophetic vocation. The
legends of Elijah and Elisha were full of them. It was commonly
believed that the Messiah would perform many.[1] In Samaria, a few
leagues from where Jesus was, a magician, named Simon, acquired an
almost divine character by his illusions.[2] Afterward, when it was
sought to establish the reputation of Apollonius of Tyana, and to
prove that his life had been the sojourn of a god upon the earth, it
was not thought possible to succeed therein except by inventing a vast
cycle of miracles.[3] The Alexandrian philosophers themselves,
Plotinus and others, are reported to have performed several.[4] Jesus
was, therefore, obliged to choose between these two
alternatives--either to renounce his mission, or to become a
thaumaturgus. It must be remembered that all antiquity, with the
exception of the great scientific schools of Greece and their Roman
disciples, accepted miracles; and that Jesus not only believed
therein, but had not the least idea of an order of Nature regulated by
fixed laws. His knowledge on this point was in no way superior to that
of his contemporaries. Nay, more, one of his most deeply rooted
opinions was, that by faith and prayer man has entire power over
Nature.[5] The faculty of performing miracles was regarded as a
privilege frequently conferred by God upon men,[6] and it had nothing
surprising in it.
[Footnote 1: John vii. 34; _IV. Esdras_, xiii. 50.]
[Footnote 2: _Acts_ viii. 9, and following.]
[Footnote 3: See his biography by Philostratus.]
[Footnote 4: See the Lives of the Sophists, by Eunapius; the Life of
Plotinus, by Porphyry; that of Proclus, by Marinus; and that of
Isidorus, attributed to Damascius.]
[Footnote 5: Matt. xvii. 19, xxi. 21, 22; Mark xi. 23, 24.]
[Footnote 6: Matt. ix. 8.]
The lapse of time has changed that which constituted the power of the
great founder of Christianity into something offensive to our ideas,
and if ever the worship of Jesus loses its hold upon mankind, it will
be precisely on account of those acts which originally inspired belief
in him. Criticism experiences no embarrassment in presence of this
kind of historical phenomenon. A thaumaturgus of our days, unless of
an extreme simplicity, like that manifested by certain stigmatists of
Germany, is odious; for he performs miracles without believing in
them; and is a mere charlatan. But, if we take a Francis d'Assisi, the
question becomes altogether different; the series of miracles
attending the origin of the order of St. Francis, far from offending
us, affords us real pleasure. The founder of Christianity lived in as
complete a state of poetic ignorance as did St. Clair and the _tres
socii_. The disciples deemed it quite natural that their master should
have interviews with Moses and Elias, that he should command the
elements, and that he should heal the sick. We must remember, besides,
that every idea loses something of its purity, as soon as it aspires
to realize itself. Success is never attained without some injury being
done to the sensibility of the soul. Such is the feebleness of the
human mind that the best causes are ofttimes gained only by bad
arguments. The demonstrations of the primitive apologists of
Christianity are supported by very poor reasonings. Moses, Christopher
Columbus, Mahomet, have only triumphed over obstacles by constantly
making allowance for the weakness of men, and by not always giving the
true reasons for the truth. It is probable that the hearers of Jesus
were more struck by his miracles than by his eminently divine
discourses. Let us add, that doubtless popular rumor, both before and
after the death of Jesus, exaggerated enormously the number of
occurrences of this kind. The types of the gospel miracles, in fact,
do not present much variety; they are repetitions of each other and
seem fashioned from a very small number of models, accommodated to the
taste of the country.
It is impossible, amongst the miraculous narratives so tediously
enumerated in the Gospels, to distinguish the miracles attributed to
Jesus by public opinion from those in which he consented to play an
active part. It is especially impossible to ascertain whether the
offensive circumstances attending them, the groanings, the
strugglings, and other features savoring of jugglery,[1] are really
historical, or whether they are the fruit of the belief of the
compilers, strongly imbued with theurgy, and living, in this respect,
in a world analogous to that of the "spiritualists" of our times.[2]
Almost all the miracles which Jesus thought he performed, appear to
have been miracles of healing. Medicine was at this period in Judea,
what it still is in the East, that is to say, in no respect
scientific, but absolutely surrendered to individual inspiration.
Scientific medicine, founded by Greece five centuries before, was at
the time of Jesus unknown to the Jews of Palestine. In such a state of
knowledge, the presence of a superior man, treating the diseased with
gentleness, and giving him by some sensible signs the assurance of his
recovery, is often a decisive remedy. Who would dare to say that in
many cases, always excepting certain peculiar injuries, the touch of
a superior being is not equal to all the resources of pharmacy? The
mere pleasure of seeing him cures. He gives only a smile, or a hope,
but these are not in vain.
[Footnote 1: Luke viii. 45, 46; John xi. 33 and 38.]
[Footnote 2: _Acts_ ii. 2, and following, iv. 31, viii. 15, and
following, x. 44 and following. For nearly a century, the apostles and
their disciples dreamed only of miracles. See the _Acts_, the writings
of St. Paul, the extracts from Papias, in Eusebius, _Hist. Eccl._,
iii. 39, &c. Comp. Mark iii. 15, xvi. 17, 18, 20.]
Jesus had no more idea than his countrymen of a rational medical
science; he believed, like every one else, that healing was to be
effected by religious practices, and such a belief was perfectly
consistent. From the moment that disease was regarded as the
punishment of sin,[1] or as the act of a demon,[2] and by no means as
the result of physical causes, the best physician was the holy man who
had power in the supernatural world. Healing was considered a moral
act; Jesus, who felt his moral power, would believe himself specially
gifted to heal. Convinced that the touching of his robe,[3] the
imposition of his hands,[4] did good to the sick, he would have been
unfeeling, if he had refused to those who suffered, a solace which it
was in his power to bestow. The healing of the sick was considered as
one of the signs of the kingdom of God, and was always associated with
the emancipation of the poor.[5] Both were the signs of the great
revolution which was to end in the redress of all infirmities.
[Footnote 1: John v. 14, ix. 1, and following, 34.]
[Footnote 2: Matt. ix. 32, 33, xii. 22; Luke xiii. 11, 16.]
[Footnote 3: Luke viii. 45, 46.]
[Footnote 4: Luke iv. 40.]
[Footnote 5: Matt. xi. 5, xv. 30, 31; Luke ix. 1, 2, 6.]
One of the species of cure which Jesus most frequently performed, was
exorcism, or the expulsion of demons. A strange disposition to believe
in demons pervaded all minds. It was a universal opinion, not only in
Judea, but in the whole world, that demons seized hold of the bodies
of certain persons and made them act contrary to their will. A Persian
_div_, often named in the Avesta,[1] _Aeschma-daëva_, the "div of
concupiscence," adopted by the Jews under the name of Asmodeus,[2]
became the cause of all the hysterical afflictions of women.[3]
Epilepsy, mental and nervous maladies,[4] in which the patient seems
no longer to belong to himself, and infirmities, the cause of which is
not apparent, as deafness, dumbness,[5] were explained in the same
manner. The admirable treatise, "On Sacred Disease," by Hippocrates,
which set forth the true principles of medicine on this subject, four
centuries and a half before Jesus, had not banished from the world so
great an error. It was supposed that there were processes more or less
efficacious for driving away the demons; and the occupation of
exorcist was a regular profession like that of physician.[6] There is
no doubt that Jesus had in his lifetime the reputation of possessing
the greatest secrets of this art.[7] There were at that time many
lunatics in Judea, doubtless in consequence of the great mental
excitement. These mad persons, who were permitted to go at large, as
they still are in the same districts, inhabited the abandoned
sepulchral caves, which were the ordinary retreat of vagrants. Jesus
had great influence over these unfortunates.[8] A thousand singular
incidents were related in connection with his cures, in which the
credulity of the time gave itself full scope. But still these
difficulties must not be exaggerated. The disorders which were
explained by "possessions" were often very slight. In our times, in
Syria, they regard as mad or possessed by a demon (these two ideas
were expressed by the same word, _medjnoun_[9]) people who are only
somewhat eccentric. A gentle word often suffices in such cases to
drive away the demon. Such were doubtless the means employed by Jesus.
Who knows if his celebrity as exorcist was not spread almost without
his own knowledge? Persons who reside in the East are occasionally
surprised to find themselves, after some time, in possession of a
great reputation, as doctors, sorcerers, or discoverers of treasures,
without being able to account to themselves for the facts which have
given rise to these strange fancies.
[Footnote 1: _Vendidad_, xi. 26; _Yaçna_, x. 18.]
[Footnote 2: _Tobit_, iii. 8, vi. 14; Talm. of Bab., _Gittin_, 68
_a_.]
[Footnote 3: Comp. Mark xvi. 9; Luke viii. 2; _Gospel of the Infancy_,
16, 33; Syrian Code, published in the _Anecdota Syriaca_ of M. Land,
i., p. 152.]
[Footnote 4: Jos., _Bell. Jud._, VII. vi. 3; Lucian, _Philopseud._,
16; Philostratus, _Life of Apoll._, iii. 38, iv. 20; Aretus, _De
causis morb. chron._, i. 4.]
[Footnote 5: Matt. ix. 33, xii. 22; Mark ix. 16, 24; Luke xi. 14.]
[Footnote 6: _Tobit_, viii. 2, 3; Matt. xii. 27; Mark ix. 38; _Acts_
xix. 13; Josephus, _Ant._, VIII. ii. 5; Justin, _Dial. cum Tryph._,
85; Lucian, Epigr., xxiii. (xvii. Dindorf).]
[Footnote 7: Matt. xvii. 20; Mark ix. 24, and following.]
[Footnote 8: Matt. viii. 28, ix. 34, xii. 43, and following, xvii. 14,
and following, 20; Mark v. 1, and following; Luke viii. 27, and
following.]
[Footnote 9: The phrase, _Dæmonium habes_ (Matt. xi. 18: Luke vii. 33;
John vii. 20, viii. 48, and following, x. 20, and following) should be
translated by: "Thou art mad," as we should say in Arabic: _Medjnoun
enté_. The verb [Greek: daimonan] has also, in all classical
antiquity, the meaning of "to be mad."]
Many circumstances, moreover, seem to indicate that Jesus only became
a thaumaturgus late in life and against his inclination. He often
performs his miracles only after he has been besought to do so, and
with a degree of reluctance, reproaching those who asked them for the
grossness of their minds.[1] One singularity, apparently inexplicable,
is the care he takes to perform his miracles in secret, and the
request he addresses to those whom he heals to tell no one.[2] When
the demons wish to proclaim him the Son of God, he forbids them to
open their mouths; but they recognize him in spite of himself.[3]
These traits are especially characteristic in Mark, who is
pre-eminently the evangelist of miracles and exorcisms. It seems that
the disciple, who has furnished the fundamental teachings of this
Gospel, importuned Jesus with his admiration of the wonderful, and
that the master, wearied of a reputation which weighed upon him, had
often said to him, "See thou say nothing to any man." Once this
discordance evoked a singular outburst,[4] a fit of impatience, in
which the annoyance these perpetual demands of weak minds caused
Jesus, breaks forth. One would say, at times, that the character of
thaumaturgus was disagreeable to him, and that he sought to give as
little publicity as possible to the marvels which, in a manner, grew
under his feet. When his enemies asked a miracle of him, especially a
celestial miracle, a "sign from heaven," he obstinately refused.[5] We
may therefore conclude that his reputation of thaumaturgus was imposed
upon him, that he did not resist it much, but also that he did nothing
to aid it, and that, at all events, he felt the vanity of popular
opinion on this point.
[Footnote 1: Matt. xii. 39, xvi. 4, xvii. 16; Mark viii. 17, and
following, ix. 18; Luke ix. 41.]
[Footnote 2: Matt. viii. 4, ix. 30, 31, xii. 16, and following; Mark
i. 44, vii. 24, and following, viii. 26.]
[Footnote 3: Mark i. 24, 25, 34, iii. 12; Luke iv. 41.]
[Footnote 4: Matt. xvii. 16; Mark ix. 18; Luke ix. 41.]
[Footnote 5: Matt. xii. 38, and following, xvi. 1, and following; Mark
viii. 11.]
We should neglect to recognize the first principles of history if we
attached too much importance to our repugnances on this matter, and
if, in order to avoid the objections which might be raised against the
character of Jesus, we attempted to suppress facts which, in the eyes
of his contemporaries, were considered of the greatest importance.[1]
It would be convenient to say that these are the additions of
disciples much inferior to their Master who, not being able to
conceive his true grandeur, have sought to magnify him by illusions
unworthy of him. But the four narrators of the life of Jesus are
unanimous in extolling his miracles; one of them, Mark, interpreter of
the apostle Peter,[2] insists so much on this point, that, if we trace
the character of Christ only according to this Gospel, we should
represent him as an exorcist in possession of charms of rare efficacy,
as a very potent sorcerer, who inspired fear, and whom the people
wished to get rid of.[3] We will admit, then, without hesitation, that
acts which would now be considered as acts of illusion or folly, held
a large place in the life of Jesus. Must we sacrifice to these
uninviting features the sublimer aspect of such a life? God forbid. A
mere sorcerer, after the manner of Simon the magician, would not have
brought about a moral revolution like that effected by Jesus. If the
thaumaturgus had effaced in Jesus the moralist and the religious
reformer, there would have proceeded from him a school of theurgy, and
not Christianity.
[Footnote 1: Josephus, _Ant._, XVIII. iii. 3.]
[Footnote 2: Papias, in Eusebius, _Hist. Eccl._, iii. 39.]
[Footnote 3: Mark iv. 40, v. 15, 17, 33, 36, vi. 50, x. 32; cf. Matt.
viii. 27, 34, ix. 8, xiv. 27, xvii. 6, 7, xxviii. 5, 10; Luke iv. 36,
v. 17, viii. 25, 35, 37, ix. 34. The Apocryphal Gospel, said to be by
Thomas the Israelite, carries this feature to the most offensive
absurdity. Compare the _Miracles of the Infancy_, in Philo, _Cod.
Apocr. N.T._, p. cx., note.]
The problem, moreover, presents itself in the same manner with respect
to all saints and religious founders. Things now considered morbid,
such as epilepsy and seeing of visions, were formerly principles of
power and greatness. Physicians can designate the disease which made
the fortune of Mahomet.[1] Almost in our own day, the men who have
done the most for their kind (the excellent Vincent de Paul himself!)
were, whether they wished it or not, thaumaturgi. If we set out with
the principle that every historical personage to whom acts have been
attributed, which we in the nineteenth century hold to be irrational
or savoring of quackery, was either a madman or a charlatan, all
criticism is nullified. The school of Alexandria was a noble school,
but, nevertheless, it gave itself up to the practices of an
extravagant theurgy. Socrates and Pascal were not exempt from
hallucinations. Facts ought to explain themselves by proportionate
causes. The weaknesses of the human mind only engender weakness; great
things have always great causes in the nature of man, although they
are often developed amidst a crowd of littlenesses which, to
superficial minds, eclipse their grandeur.
[Footnote 1: _Hysteria Muscularis_ of Shoenlein.]
In a general sense, it is therefore true to say that Jesus was only
thaumaturgus and exorcist in spite of himself. Miracles are ordinarily
the work of the public much more than of him to whom they are
attributed. Jesus persistently shunned the performance of the wonders
which the multitude would have created for him; the greatest miracle
would have been his refusal to perform any; never would the laws of
history and popular psychology have suffered so great a derogation.
The miracles of Jesus were a violence done to him by his age, a
concession forced from him by a passing necessity. The exorcist and
the thaumaturgus have alike passed away; but the religious reformer
will live eternally.
Even those who did not believe in him were struck with these acts, and
sought to be witnesses of them.[1] The pagans, and persons
unacquainted with him, experienced a sentiment of fear, and sought to
remove him from their district.[2] Many thought perhaps to abuse his
name by connecting it with seditious movements.[3] But the purely
moral and in no respect political tendency of the character of Jesus
saved him from these entanglements. His kingdom was in the circle of
disciples, whom a like freshness of imagination and the same foretaste
of heaven had grouped and retained around him.
[Footnote 1: Matt. xiv. 1, and following; Mark vi. 14; Luke ix. 7,
xxiii. 8.]
[Footnote 2: Matt. viii. 34; Mark v. 17, viii. 37.]
[Footnote 3: John vi. 14, 15.]