Produced by David Widger
THE GODS
By Robert G. Ingersoll
Give Me The Storm And Tempest Of Thought And Action, Rather Than The
Dead Calm Of Ignorance And Faith. Banish Me From Eden When You Will; But
First Let Me Eat Of The Fruit Of The Tree Of Knowledge.
1878.
TO
EVA A. INGERSOLL
MY WIFE,
A WOMAN WITHOUT SUPERSTITION, THIS VOLUME
IS DEDICATED.
THE GODS
AN HONEST GOD IS THE NOBLEST WORK OF MAN.
EACH nation has created a god, and the god has always resembled his
creators. He hated and loved what they hated and loved, and he was
invariably found on the side of those in power. Each god was intensely
patriotic, and detested all nations but his own. All these gods demanded
praise, flattery, worship. Most of them were pleased with sacrifice, and
the smell of innocent blood has ever been considered a divine perfume.
All these gods have insisted upon having a vast number of priests, and
the priests have always insisted upon being supported by the people, and
the principal business of these priests has been to boast about their
god, and to insist that he could easily vanquish all the other gods put
together.
These gods have been manufactured after numberless models, and according
to the most grotesque fashions. Some have a thousand arms, some a
hundred heads, some are adorned with necklaces of living snakes, some
are armed with clubs, some with sword and shield, some with bucklers,
and some have wings as a cherub; some were invisible, some would show
themselves entire, and some would only show their backs; some were
jealous, some were foolish, some turned themselves into men, some into
swans, some into bulls, some into doves, and some into Holy Ghosts, and
made love to the beautiful daughters of men. Some were married--all
ought to have been--and some were considered as old bachelors from all
eternity. Some had children, and the children were turned into gods and
worshiped as their fathers had been. Most of these gods were revengeful,
savage, lustful, and ignorant. As they generally depended upon
their priests for information, their ignorance can hardly excite our
astonishment.
These gods did not even know the shape of the worlds they had created,
but supposed them perfectly flat Some thought the day could be
lengthened by stopping the sun, that the blowing of horns could throw
down the walls of a city, and all knew so little of the real nature
of the people they had created, that they commanded the people to love
them. Some were so ignorant as to suppose that man could believe just
as he might desire, or as they might command, and that to be governed
by observation, reason, and experience was a most foul and damning sin.
None of these gods could give a true account of the creation of this
little earth. All were wofully deficient in geology and astronomy. As a
rule, they were most miserable legislators, and as executives, they were
far inferior to the average of American presidents.
These deities have demanded the most abject and degrading obedience. In
order to please them, man must lay his very face in the dust. Of course,
they have always been partial to the people who created them, and have
generally shown their partiality by assisting those people to rob and
destroy others, and to ravish their wives and daughters.
Nothing is so pleasing to these gods as the butchery of unbelievers.
Nothing so enrages them, even now, as to have some one deny their
existence.
Few nations have been so poor as to have but one god. Gods were made
so easily, and the raw material cost so little, that generally the god
market was fairly glutted, and heaven crammed with these phantoms. These
gods not only attended to the skies, but were supposed to interfere in
all the affairs of men. They presided over everybody and everything.
They attended to every department. All was supposed to be under their
immediate control. Nothing was too small--nothing too large; the
falling of sparrows and the motions of the planets were alike attended
to by these industrious and observing deities. From their starry
thrones they frequently came to the earth for the purpose of imparting
information to man. It is related of one that he came amid thunderings
and lightnings in order to tell the people that they should not cook a
kid in its mother's milk. Some left their shining abodes to tell women
that they should, or should not, have children, to inform a priest
how to cut and wear his apron, and to give directions as to the proper
manner of cleaning the intestines of a bird.
When the people failed to worship one of these gods, or failed to feed
and clothe his priests, (which was much the same thing,) he generally
visited them with pestilence and famine. Sometimes he allowed some other
nation to drag them into slavery--to sell their wives and children; but
generally he glutted his vengeance by murdering their first-born.
The priests always did their whole duty, not only in predicting these
calamities, but in proving, when they did happen, that they were brought
upon the people because they had not given quite enough to them.
These gods differed just as the nations differed; the greatest and most
powerful had the most powerful gods, while the weaker ones were obliged
to content themselves with the very off-scourings of the heavens. Each
of these gods promised happiness here and hereafter to all his slaves,
and threatened to eternally punish all who either disbelieved in his
existence or suspected that some other god might be his superior; but to
deny the existence of all gods was, and is, the crime of crimes. Redden
your hands with human blood; blast by slander the fair fame of the
innocent; strangle the smiling child upon its mother's knees; deceive,
ruin and desert the beautiful girl who loves and trusts you, and
your case is not hopeless. For all this, and for all these you may
be forgiven. For all this, and for all these, that bankrupt court
established by the gospel, will give you a discharge; but deny the
existence of these divine ghosts, of these gods, and the sweet and
tearful face of Mercy becomes livid with eternal hate. Heaven's golden
gates are shut, and you, with an infinite curse ringing in your
ears, with the brand of infamy upon your brow, commence your endless
wanderings in the lurid gloom of hell--an immortal vagrant--an eternal
outcast--a deathless convict.
One of these gods, and one who demands our love, our admiration and
our worship, and one who is worshiped, if mere heartless ceremony is
worship, gave to his chosen people for their guidance, the following
laws of war: "When thou comest nigh unto a city to fight against it,
_then proclaim peace unto it_. And it shall be if it make thee answer,
of peace, and open unto thee, then it shall be that all the people that
is found therein shall be tributaries unto thee, and they shall serve
thee. And if it will make no peace with thee, but will make war against
thee, then thou shalt besiege it.
"And when the Lord thy God hath delivered it into thy hands, thou shalt
smite every male thereof with the edge of the sword. But the women and
the little ones, and the cattle, and all that is in the city, even all
the spoil thereof, shalt thou take unto thyself, and thou shalt eat
the spoil of thine enemies which the Lord thy God hath given thee. Thus
shalt thou do unto all the cities which are very far off from thee,
which are not of the cities of these nations. But of the cities of these
people which the Lord thy God doth give thee for an inheritance, _thou
shalt save alive nothing that breatheth?_"
Is it possible for man to conceive of anything more perfectly infamous?
Can you believe that such directions were given by any being except an
infinite fiend? Remember that the army receiving these instructions
was one of invasion. Peace was offered upon condition that the people
submitting should be the slaves of the invader; but if any should have
the courage to defend their homes, to fight for the love of wife and
child, then the sword was to spare none--not even the prattling, dimpled
babe.
And we are called upon to worship such a god; to get upon our knees and
tell him that he is good, that he is merciful, that he is just, that he
is love. We are asked to stifle every noble sentiment of the soul, and
to trample under foot all the sweet charities of the heart Because we
refuse to stultify ourselves--refuse to become liars--we are denounced,
hated, traduced and ostracized here, and this same god threatens to
torment us in eternal fire the moment death allows him to fiercely
clutch our naked helpless souls. Let the people hate, let the god
threaten--we will educate them, and we will despise and defy him.
The book, called the bible, is filled with passages equally horrible,
unjust and atrocious. This is the book to be read in schools in order
to make our children loving, kind and gentle! This is the book to
be recognized in our Constitution as the source of all authority and
justice!
Strange! that no one has ever been persecuted by the church for
believing God bad, while hundreds of millions have been destroyed
for thinking him good. The orthodox church never will forgive the
Universalist for saying "God is love." It has always been considered
as one of the very highest evidences of true and undefined religion to
insist that all men, women and children deserve eternal damnation. It
has always been heresy to say, "God will at last save all."
We are asked to justify these frightful passages, these infamous laws
of war, because the bible is the word of God. As a matter of fact, there
never was, and there never can be, an argument, even tending to prove
the inspiration of any book whatever. In the absence of positive
evidence, analogy and experience, argument is simply impossible, and at
the very best, can amount only to a useless agitation of the air.
The instant we admit that a book is too sacred to be doubted, or even
reasoned about, we are mental serfs. It is infinitely absurd to suppose
that a god would address a communication to intelligent beings, and yet
make it a crime, to be punished in eternal flames, for them to use their
intelligence for the purpose of understanding his communication. If we
have the right to use our reason, we certainly have the right to act in
accordance with it, and no god can have the right to punish us for such
action.
The doctrine that future happiness depends upon belief is monstrous.
It is the infamy of infamies. The notion that faith in Christ is to
be rewarded by an eternity of bliss, while a dependence upon reason,
observation, and experience merits everlasting pain, is too absurd for
refutation, and can be relieved only by that unhappy mixture of insanity
and ignorance, called "faith." What man, who ever thinks, can believe
that blood can appease God? And yet, our entire system of religion is
based upon that belief. The Jews pacified Jehovah with the blood of
animals, and according to the Christian system, the blood of Jesus
softened the heart of God a little, and rendered possible the salvation
of a fortunate few. It is hard to conceive how the human mind can give
assent to such terrible ideas, or how any sane man can read the bible
and still believe in the doctrine of inspiration.
Whether the bible is true or false, is of no consequence in comparison
with the mental freedom of the race.
Salvation through slavery is worthless. Salvation from slavery is
inestimable.
As long as man believes the bible to be infallible, that book is his
master. The civilization of this century is not the child of faith, but
of unbelief--the result of free thought.
All that is necessary, as it seems to me, to convince any reasonable
person that the bible is simply and purely of human invention--of
barbarian invention--is to read it. Read it as you would any other
book; think of it as you would of any other; get the bandage of
reverence from your eyes; drive from your heart the phantom of
fear; push from the throne of your brain the cowled form of
superstition--then read the holy bible, and you will be amazed that you
ever, for one moment, supposed a being of infinite wisdom, goodness and
purity, to be the author of such ignorance and of such atrocity.
Our ancestors not only had their god-factories, but they made devils as
well. These devils were generally disgraced and fallen gods. Some had
headed unsuccessful revolts; some had been caught sweetly reclining in
the shadowy folds of some fleecy cloud, kissing the wife of the god of
gods. These devils generally sympathized with man. There is in regard
to them a most wonderful fact: In nearly all the theologies, mythologies
and religions, the devils have been much more humane and merciful
than the gods. No devil ever gave one of his generals an order to kill
children and to rip open the bodies of pregnant women. Such barbarities
were always ordered by the good gods. The pestilences were sent by the
most merciful gods. The frightful famine, during which the dying child
with pallid lips sucked the withered bosom of a dead mother, was sent by
the loving gods. No devil was ever charged with such fiendish brutality.
One of these gods, according to the account, drowned an entire world,
with the exception of eight persons. The old, the young, the beautiful
and the helpless were remorsely devoured by the shoreless sea. This,
the most fearful tragedy that the imagination of ignorant priests ever
conceived, was the act, not of a devil, but of a god, so-called, whom
men ignorantly worship unto this day. What a stain such an act would
leave upon the character of a devil! One of the prophets of one of these
gods, having in his power a captured king, hewed him in pieces in the
sight of all the people. Was ever any imp of any devil guilty of such
savagery?
One of these gods is reported to have given the following directions
concerning human slavery: "If thou buy a Hebrew servant, six years shall
he serve, and in the seventh he shall go out free for nothing. If he
came in by himself, he shall go out by himself; if he were married, then
his wife shall go out with him. If his master have given him a wife, and
she have borne him sons or daughters, the wife and her children shall be
her master's, and he shall go out by himself. And if the servant shall
plainly say, I love my master, my wife and my children; I will not go
out free. Then his master shall bring him unto the judges; he shall also
bring him unto the door, or unto the door-post; and his master shall
bore his ear through with an awl; and he shall serve him forever."
According to this, a man was given liberty upon condition that he would
desert forever his wife and children. Did any devil ever force upon a
husband, upon a father, so cruel and so heartless an alternative? Who
can worship such a god? Who can bend the knee to such a monster? Who can
pray to such a fiend?
All these gods threatened to torment forever the souls of their enemies.
Did any devil ever make so infamous a threat? The basest thing recorded
of the devil, is what he did concerning Job and his family, and that
was done by the express permission of one of these gods, and to decide
a little difference of opinion between their serene highnesses as to the
character of "my servant Job." The first account we have of the devil is
found in that purely scientific book called Genesis, and is as follows:
"Now the serpent was more subtile than any beast of the field which the
Lord God had made, and he said unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye
shall not eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden? And the woman
said unto the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the
garden; but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden
God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest
ye die. And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die.
For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall
be opened and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. And when the
woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to
the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the
fruit thereof and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her, and
he did eat. * * And the Lord God said, Behold the man is become as one
of us, to know good and evil; and now, lest he put forth his hand, and
take also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever. Therefore the
Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden to till the ground from
which he was taken. So he drove out the man, and he placed at the east
of the garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword, which turned every
way to keep the way of the tree of life."
According to this account the promise of the devil was fulfilled to
the very letter. Adam and Eve did not die, and they did become as gods,
knowing good and evil.
The account shows, however, that the gods dreaded education and
knowledge then just as they do now. The church still faithfully guards
the dangerous tree of knowledge, and has exerted in all ages her utmost
power to keep mankind from eating the fruit thereof. The priests have
never ceased repeating the old falsehood and the old threat: "Ye shall
not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die." From every
pulpit comes the same cry, born of the same fear: "Lest they eat and
become as gods, knowing good and evil." For this reason, religion
hates science, faith detests reason, theology is the sworn enemy of
philosophy, and the church with its flaming sword still guards the hated
tree, and like its supposed founder, curses to the lowest depths the
brave thinkers who eat and become as gods.
If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all,
to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate
of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human
ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of
modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of
civilization.
Give me the storm and tempest of thought and action, rather than the
dead calm of ignorance and faith! Banish me from Eden when you will; but
first let me eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge!
Some nations have borrowed their gods; of this number, we are compelled
to say, is our own. The Jews having ceased to exist as a nation, and
having no further use for a god, our ancestors appropriated him and
adopted their devil at the same time. This borrowed god is still an
object of some adoration, and this adopted devil still excites the
apprehensions of our people. He is still supposed to be setting his
traps and snares for the purpose of catching our unwary souls, and is
still, with reasonable success, waging the old war against our god.
To me, it seems easy to account for these ideas concerning gods and
devils. They are a perfectly natural production. Man has created them
all, and under the same circumstances would create them again. Man has
not only created all these gods, but he has created them out of the
materials by which he has been surrounded. Generally he has modeled them
after himself, and has given them hands, heads, feet, eyes, ears,
and organs of speech. Each nation, made its gods and devils speak its
language not only, but put in their mouths the same mistakes in history,
geography, astronomy, and in all matters of fact, generally made by the
people. No god was ever in advance of the nation that created him. The
negroes represented their deities with black skins and curly hair. The
Mongolian gave to his a yellow complexion and dark almond-shaped eyes.
The Jews were not allowed to paint theirs, or we should have seen
Jehovah with a full beard, an oval face, and an aquiline nose. Zeus was
a perfect Greek, and Jove looked as though a member of the Roman senate.
The gods of Egypt had the patient face and placid look of the loving
people who made them. The gods of northern countries were represented
warmly clad in robes of fur; those of the tropics were naked. The gods
of India were often mounted upon elephants; those of some islanders were
great swimmers, and the deities of the Arctic zone were passionately
fond of whale's blubber. Nearly all people have carved or painted
representations of their gods, and these representations were, by the
lower classes, generally treated as the real gods, and to these images
and idols they addressed prayers and offered sacrifice.
"In some countries, even at this day, if the people after long praying
do not obtain their desires, they turn their images off as impotent
gods, or upbraid them in a most reproachful manner, loading them with
blows and curses. 'How now, dog of a spirit,' they say, 'we give you
lodging in a magnificent temple, we gild you with gold, feed you with
the choicest food, and offer incense to you; yet, after all this care,
you are so ungrateful as to refuse us what we ask.'
"Hereupon they will pull the god down and drag him through the filth
of the street. If, in the meantime, it happens that they obtain their
request, then, with a great deal of ceremony, they wash him clean, carry
him back and place him in his temple again, where they fall down and
make excuses for what they have done. 'Of a truth,' they say, 'we were
a little too hasty, and you were a little too long in your grant. Why
should you bring this beating on yourself. But what is done cannot be
undone. Let us not think of it any more. If you will forget what is
past, we will gild you over brighter again than before.'"
Man has never been at a loss for gods. He has worshiped almost
everything, including the vilest and most disgusting beasts. He has
worshiped fire, earth, air, water, light, stars, and for hundreds of
ages prostrated himself before enormous snakes. Savage tribes often make
gods of articles they get from civilized people. The To-das worship
a cow-bell. The Kotas worship two silver plates, which they regard as
husband and wife, and another tribe manufactured a god out of a king of
hearts.
Man, having always been the physical superior of woman, accounts for
the fact that most of the high gods have been males. Had woman been the
physical superior, the powers supposed to be the rulers of Nature would
have been women, and instead of being represented in the apparel of
man, they would have luxuriated in trains, low-necked dresses, laces and
back-hair.
Nothing can be plainer than that each nation gives to its god its
peculiar characteristics, and that every individual gives to his god his
personal peculiarities.
Man has no ideas, and can have none, except those suggested by his
surroundings. He cannot conceive of anything utterly unlike what he has
seen or felt. He can exaggerate, diminish, combine, separate, deform,
beautify, improve, multiply and compare what he sees, what he feels,
what he hears, and all of which he takes cognizance through the medium
of the senses; but he cannot create. Having seen exhibitions of power,
he can say, omnipotent. Having lived, he can say, immortality. Knowing
something of time, he can say, eternity. Conceiving something of
intelligence, he can say, God Having seen exhibitions of malice, he can
say, devil. A few gleams of happiness having fallen athwart the gloom of
his life, he can say, heaven. Pain, in its numberless forms, having been
experienced, he can say, hell. Yet all these ideas have a foundation
in fact, and only a foundation. The superstructure has been reared
by exaggerating, diminishing, combining, separating, deforming,
beautifying, improving or multiplying realities, so that the edifice or
fabric is but the incongruous grouping of what man has perceived through
the medium of the senses. It is as though we should give to a lion the
wings of an eagle, the hoofs of a bison, the tail of a horse, the pouch
of a kangaroo, and the trunk of an elephant. We have in imagination
created an impossible monster. And yet the various parts of this monster
really exist. So it is with all the gods that man has made.
Beyond nature man cannot go even in thought--above nature he cannot
rise--below nature he cannot fall.
Man, in his# ignorance, supposed that all phenomena were produced by
some intelligent powers, and with direct reference to him. To preserve
friendly relations with these powers was, and still is, the object of
all religions. Man knelt through fear and to implore assistance, or
through gratitude for some favor which he supposed had been rendered. He
endeavored by supplication to appease some being who, for some reason,
had, as he believed, become enraged. The lightning and thunder terrified
him. In the presence of the volcano he sank upon his knees. The great
forests filled with wild and ferocious beasts, the monstrous serpents
crawling in mysterious depths, the boundless sea, the flaming comets,
the sinister eclipses, the awful calmness of the stars, and, more than
all, the perpetual presence of death, convinced him that he was the
sport and prey of unseen and malignant powers. The strange and frightful
diseases to which he was subject, the freezings and burnings of fever,
the contortions of epilepsy, the sudden palsies, the darkness of night,
and the wild, terrible and fantastic dreams that filled his brain,
satisfied him that he was haunted and pursued by countless spirits
of evil. For some reason he supposed that these spirits differed
in power--that they were not all alike malevolent--that the higher
controlled the lower, and that his very existence depended upon gaining
the assistance of the more powerful. For this purpose he resorted to
prayer, to flattery, to worship and to sacrifice.
These ideas appear to have been almost universal in savage man.
For ages all nations supposed that the sick and insane were possessed by
evil spirits. For thousands of years the practice of medicine consisted
in frightening these spirits away. Usually the priests would make the
loudest and most discordant noises possible. They would blow horns,
beat upon rude drums, clash cymbals, and in the meantime utter the most
unearthly yells. If the noise-remedy failed, they would implore the aid
of some more powerful spirit.
To pacify these spirits was considered of infinite importance. The poor
barbarian, knowing that men could be softened by gifts, gave to these
spirits that which to him seemed of the most value. With bursting heart
he would offer the blood of his dearest child. It was impossible for him
to conceive of a god utterly unlike himself, and he naturally supposed
that these powers of the air would be affected a little at the sight of
so great and so deep a sorrow. It was with the barbarian then as with
the civilized now--one class lived upon and made merchandise of the
fears of another. Certain persons took it upon themselves to appease the
gods, and to instruct the people in their duties to these unseen powers.
This was the origin of the priesthood. The priest pretended to stand
between the wrath of the gods and the helplessness of man. He was man's
attorney at the court of heaven. He carried to the invisible world a
flag of truce, a protest and a request. He came back with a command,
with authority and with power. Man fell upon his knees before his own
servant, and the priest, taking advantage of the awe inspired by his
supposed influence with the gods, made of his fellow-man a cringing
hypocrite and slave. Even Christ, the supposed son of God, taught that
persons were possessed of evil spirits, and frequently, according to
the account, gave proof of his divine origin and mission by frightening
droves of devils out of his unfortunate countrymen. Casting out devils
was his principal employment, and the devils thus banished generally
took occasion to acknowledge him as the true Messiah; which was not only
very kind of them, but quite fortunate for him. The religious people
have always regarded the testimony of these devils as perfectly
conclusive, and the writers of the New Testament quote the words of
these imps of darkness with great satisfaction.
The fact that Christ could withstand the temptations of the devil was
considered as conclusive evidence that he was assisted by some god, or
at least by some being superior to man. St. Matthew gives an account of
an attempt made by the devil to tempt the supposed son of God; and it
has always excited the wonder of Christians that the temptation was
so nobly and heroically withstood. The account to which I refer is as
follows:
"Then was Jesus led up of the spirit into the wilderness to be tempted
of the devil. And when the tempter came to him, he said: 'If thou be the
son of God, command that these stones be made bread.' But he answered,
and said: 'It is written: man shall not live by bread alone, but by
every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.' Then the devil
taketh him up into the holy city and setteth him upon a pinnacle of
the temple and saith unto him: 'If thou be the son of God, cast thyself
down, for it is written, He shall give his angels charge concerning
thee, lest at any time thou shalt dash thy foot against a stone.' Jesus
said unto him: 'It is written again, thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy
God.' Again the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain and
sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, and
saith unto him: 'All these will I give thee if thou wilt fall down and
worship me.'"
The Christians now claim that Jesus was God. If he was God, of course
the devil knew that fact, and yet, according to this account, the devil
took the omnipotent God and placed him upon a pinnacle of the temple,
and endeavored to induce him to dash himself against the earth. Failing
in that, he took the creator, owner and governor of the universe up into
an exceeding high mountain, and offered him this world--this grain
of sand--if he, the God of all the worlds, would fall down and worship
him, a poor devil, without even a tax title to one foot of dirt! Is it
possible the devil was such an idiot? Should any great credit be given
to this deity for not being caught with such chaff? Think of it! The
devil--the prince of sharpers--the king of cunning--the master of
finesse, trying to bribe God with a grain of sand that belonged to God!
Is there in all the religious literature of the world anything more
grossly absurd than this?
These devils, according to the bible, were of various kinds--some
could speak and hear, others were deaf and dumb. All could not be cast
out in the same way. The deaf and dumb spirits were quite difficult to
deal with. St. Mark tells of a gentleman who brought his son to Christ
The boy, it seems, was possessed of a dumb spirit, over which the
disciples had no control. "Jesus said unto the spirit: 'Thou dumb and
deaf spirit, I charge thee come out of him, and enter no more into
him.'" Whereupon, the deaf spirit (having heard what was said) cried out
(being dumb) and immediately vacated the premises. The ease with which
Christ controlled this deaf and dumb spirit excited the wonder of his
disciples, and they asked him privately why they could not cast that
spirit out. To whom he replied: "This kind can come forth by nothing but
prayer and fasting." Is there a Christian in the whole world who would
believe such a story if found in any other book? The trouble is, these
pious people shut up their reason, and then open their bible.
In the olden times the existence of devils was universally admitted. The
people had no doubt upon that subject, and from such belief it followed
as a matter of course, that a person, in order to vanquish these devils,
had either to be a god, or to be assisted by one. All founders of
religions have established their claims to divine origin by controlling
evil spirits and suspending the laws of nature. Casting out devils was
a certificate of divinity. A prophet, unable to cope with the powers
of darkness was regarded with contempt The utterance of the highest
and noblest sentiments, the most blameless and holy life, commanded but
little respect, unless accompanied by power to work miracles and command
spirits.
This belief in good and evil powers had its origin in the fact that man
was surrounded by what he was pleased to call good and evil phenomena.
Phenomena affecting man pleasantly were ascribed to good spirits, while
those affecting him unpleasantly or injuriously, were ascribed to evil
spirits. It being admitted that all phenomena were produced by spirits,
the spirits were divided according to the phenomena, and the phenomena
were good or bad as they affected man.
Good spirits were supposed to be the authors of good phenomena, and evil
spirits of the evil--so that the idea of a devil has been as universal
as the idea of a god.
Many writers maintain that an idea to become universal must be true;
that all universal ideas are innate, and that innate ideas cannot be
false. If the fact that an idea has been universal proves that it
is innate, and if the fact that an idea is innate proves that it is
correct, then the believers in innate ideas must admit that the evidence
of a god superior to nature, and of a devil superior to nature, is
exactly the same, and that the existence of such a devil must be as
self-evident as the existence of such a god. The truth is, a god was
inferred from good; and a devil from bad, phenomena. And it is just as
natural and logical to suppose that a devil would cause happiness as
to suppose that a god would produce misery. Consequently, if an
intelligence, infinite and supreme, is the immediate author of all
phenomena, it is difficult to determine whether such intelligence is the
friend or enemy of man. If phenomena were all good, we might say they
were all produced by a perfectly beneficent being. If they were all bad,
we might say they were produced by a perfectly malevolent power; but,
as phenomena are, as they affect man, both good and bad, they must be
produced by different and antagonistic spirits; by one who is sometimes
actuated by kindness, and sometimes by malice; or all must be produced
of necessity, and without reference to their consequences upon man.
The foolish doctrine that all phenomena can be traced to the
interference of good and evil spirits, has been, and still is, almost
universal. That most people still believe in some spirit that can change
the natural order of events, is proven by the fact that nearly all
resort to prayer. Thousands, at this very moment, are probably imploring
some supposed power to interfere in their behalf. Some want health
restored; some ask that the loved and absent be watched over and
protected, some pray for riches, some for rain, some want diseases
stayed, some vainly ask for food, some ask for revivals, a few ask for
more wisdom, and now and then one tells the Lord to do as he may think
best. Thousands ask to be protected from the devil; some, like David,
pray for revenge, and some implore, even God, not to lead them into
temptation. All these prayers rest upon, and are produced by, the idea
that some power not only can, but probably will, change the order of the
universe. This belief has been among the great majority of tribes
and nations. All sacred books are filled with the accounts of such
interferences, and our own bible is no exception to this rule.
If we believe in a power superior to nature, it is perfectly natural to
suppose that such power can and will interfere in the affairs of this
world. If there is no interference, of what practical use can such
power be? The scriptures give us the most wonderful accounts of divine
interference: Animals talk like men; springs gurgle from dry bones; the
sun and moon stop in the heavens in order that General Joshua may have
more time to murder; the shadow on a dial goes back ten degrees to
convince a petty king of a barbarous people that he is not going to die
of a boil; fire refuses to burn; water positively declines to seek its
level, but stands up like a wall; grains of sand become lice; common
walking-sticks, to gratify a mere freak, twist themselves into serpents,
and then swallow each other by way of exercise; murmuring streams,
laughing at the attraction of gravitation, run up hill for years,
following wandering tribes from a pure love of frolic; prophecy becomes
altogether easier than history; the sons of God become enamored of the
world's girls; women are changed into salt for the purpose of keeping a
great event fresh in the minds of men; an excellent article of brimstone
is imported from heaven free of duty; clothes refuse to wear out for
forty years; birds keep restaurants and feed wandering prophets free of
expense; bears tear children in pieces for laughing at old men without
wigs; muscular development depends upon the length of one's hair; dead
people come to life, simply to get a joke on their enemies and heirs;
witches and wizards converse freely with the souls of the departed, and
God himself becomes a stone-cutter and engraver, after having been a
tailor and dressmaker.
The veil between heaven and earth was always rent or lifted. The shadows
of this world, the radiance of heaven, and the glare of hell mixed
and mingled until man became uncertain as to which country he really
inhabited. Man dwelt in an unreal world. He mistook his ideas, his
dreams, for real things. His fears became terrible and malicious
monsters. He lived in the midst of furies and fairies, nymphs and
naiads, goblins and ghosts, witches and wizards, sprites and spooks,
deities and devils. The obscure and gloomy depths were filled with
claw and wing--with beak and hoof--with leering looks and sneering
mouths--with the malice of deformity--with the cunning of hatred, and
with all the slimy forms that fear can draw and paint upon the shadowy
canvas of the dark.
It is enough to make one almost insane with pity to think what man in
the long night has suffered; of the tortures he has endured, surrounded,
as he supposed, by malignant powers and clutched by the fierce phantoms
of the air. No wonder that he fell upon his trembling knees--that he
built altars and reddened them even with his own blood. No wonder that
he implored ignorant priests and impudent magicians for aid. No wonder
that he crawled groveling in the dust to the temple's door, and there,
in the insanity of despair, besought the deaf gods to hear his bitter
cry of agony and fear.
The savage, as he emerges from a state of barbarism, gradually loses
faith in his idols of wood and stone, and in their place puts a
multitude of spirits. As he advances in knowledge, he generally discards
the petty spirits, and in their stead believes in one, whom he supposes
to be infinite and supreme. Supposing this great spirit to be superior
to nature, he offers worship or flattery in exchange for assistance. At
last, finding that he obtains no aid from this supposed deity--finding
that every search after the absolute must of necessity end in
failure--finding that man cannot by any possibility conceive of the
conditionless--he begins to investigate the facts by which he is
surrounded, and to depend upon himself The people are beginning to
think, to reason and to investigate. Slowly, painfully, but surely, the
gods are being driven from the earth. Only upon rare occasions are they,
even by the most religious, supposed to interfere in the affairs of men.
In most matters we are at last supposed to be free. Since the invention
of steamships and railways, so that the products of all countries can be
easily interchanged, the gods have quit the business of producing
famine. Now and then they kill a child because it is idolized by its
parents. As a rule they have given up causing accidents on railroads,
exploding boilers, and bursting kerosene lamps. Cholera, yellow fever,
and small-pox are still considered heavenly weapons; but measles, itch
and ague are now attributed to natural causes. As a general thing, the
gods have stopped drowning children, except as a punishment for
violating the Sabbath. They still pay some attention to the affairs of
kings, men of genius and persons of great wealth; but ordinary people
are left to shirk for themselves as best they may. In wars between great
nations, the gods still interfere; but in prize fights, the best man
with an honest referee, is almost sure to win.
The church cannot abandon the idea of special providence. To give up
that doctrine is to give up all. The church must insist that prayer
is answered--that some power superior to nature hears and grants the
request of the sincere and humble Christian, and that this same power in
some mysterious way provides for all.
A devout clergyman sought every opportunity to impress upon the mind
of his son the fact, that God takes care of all his creatures; that the
falling sparrow attracts his attention, and that his loving kindness is
over all his works. Happening, one day, to see a crane wading in quest
of food, the good man pointed out to his son the perfect adaptation of
the crane to get his living in that manner. "See," said he, "how his
legs are formed for wading! What a long slender bill he has! Observe how
nicely he folds his feet when putting them in or drawing them out of
the water! He does not cause the slightest ripple. He is thus enabled
to approach the fish without giving them any notice of his arrival."
"My son," said he, "it is impossible to look at that bird without
recognizing the design, as well as the goodness of God, in thus
providing the means of subsistence." "Yes," replied the boy, "I think I
see the goodness of God, at least so far as the crane is concerned; but
after all, father, don't you think the arrangement a little tough on the
fish?"
Even the advanced religionist, although disbelieving in any great amount
of interference by the gods in this age of the world, still thinks,
that in the beginning, some god made the laws governing the universe.
He believes that in consequence of these laws a man can lift a greater
weight with, than without, a lever; that this god so made matter, and so
established the order of things, that two bodies cannot occupy the same
space at the same time; so that a body once put in motion will keep
moving until it is stopped; so that it is a greater distance around,
than across a circle; so that a perfect square has four equal sides,
instead of five or seven. He insists that it took a direct interposition
of providence to make the whole greater than a part, and that had it not
been for this power superior to nature, twice one might have been more
than twice two, and sticks and strings might have had only one end
apiece. Like the old Scotch divine, he thanks God that Sunday comes at
the end instead of in the middle of the week, and that death comes at
the close instead of at the commencement of life, thereby giving us time
to prepare for that holy day and that most solemn event These religious
people see nothing but design everywhere, and personal, intelligent
interference in everything. They insist that the universe has been
created, and that the adaptation of means to ends is perfectly apparent.
They point us to the sunshine, to the flowers, to the April rain, and
to all there is of beauty and of use in the world. Did it ever occur to
them that a cancer is as beautiful in its development as is the reddest
rose? That what they are pleased to call the adaptation of means to
ends, is as apparent in the cancer as in the April rain? How beautiful
the process of digestion! By what ingenious methods the blood is
poisoned so that the cancer shall have food! By what wonderful
contrivances the entire system of man is made to pay tribute to this
divine and charming cancer! See by what admirable instrumentalities it
feeds itself from the surrounding quivering, dainty flesh! See how it
gradually but surely expands and grows! By what marvelous mechanism
it is supplied with long and slender roots that reach out to the most
secret nerves of pain for sustenance and life! What beautiful colors
it presents! Seen through the microscope it is a miracle of order and
beauty. All the ingenuity of man cannot stop its growth. Think of the
amount of thought it must have required to invent a way by which the
life of one man might be given to produce one cancer? Is it possible to
look upon it and doubt that there is design in the universe, and that
the inventor of this wonderful cancer must be infinitely powerful,
ingenious and good?
We are told that the universe was designed and created, and that it is
absurd to suppose that matter has existed from eternity, but that it is
perfectly self-evident that a god has.
If a god created the universe, then, there must have been a time when he
commenced to create. Back of that time there must have been an eternity,
during which there had existed nothing--absolutely nothing--except
this supposed god. According to this theory, this god spent an eternity,
so to speak, in an infinite vacuum, and in perfect idleness.
Admitting that a god did create the universe, the question then arises,
of what did he create it? It certainly was not made of nothing. Nothing,
considered in the light of a raw material, is a most decided failure. It
follows, then, that the god must have made the universe out of himself,
he being the only existence. The universe is material, and if it was
made of god, the god must have been material. With this very thought in
his mind, Anaximander of Miletus said: "Creation is the decomposition of
the infinite."
It has been demonstrated that the earth would fall to the sun, only for
the fact, that it is attracted by other worlds, and those worlds must
be attracted by other worlds still beyond them, and so on, without
end. This proves the material universe to be infinite. If an infinite
universe has been made out of an infinite god, how much of the god is
left?
The idea of a creative deity is gradually being abandoned, and nearly
all truly scientific minds admit that matter must have existed from
eternity. It is indestructible, and the indestructible cannot be
created. It is the crowning glory of our century to have demonstrated
the indestructibility and the eternal persistence of force. Neither
matter nor force can be increased nor diminished. Force cannot exist
apart from matter. Matter exists only in connection with force, and
consequently, a force apart from matter, and superior to nature, is a
demonstrated impossibility.
Force, then, must have also existed from eternity, and could not have
been created. Matter in its countless forms, from dead earth to the
eyes of those we love, and force, in all its manifestations, from simple
motion to the grandest thought, deny creation and defy control.
Thought is a form of force. We walk with the same force with which we
think. Man is an organism, that changes several forms of force into
thought-force. Man is a machine into which we put what we call food, and
produce what we call thought. Think of that wonderful chemistry by which
bread was changed into the divine tragedy of Hamlet!
A god must not only be material, but he must be an organism, capable of
changing other forms of force into thought-force. This is what we call
eating. Therefore, if the god thinks, he must eat, that is to say, he
must of necessity have some means of supplying the force with which to
think. It is impossible to conceive of a being who can eternally impart
force to matter, and yet have no means of supplying the force thus
imparted.
If neither matter nor force were created, what evidence have we, then,
of the existence of a power superior to nature? The theologian will
probably reply, "We have law and order, cause and effect, and beside all
this, matter could not have put itself in motion."