AS he kinder, more forgiving, more self-sacrificing than Buddha? Was he
wiser, did he meet death with more perfect calmness, than Socrates?
Was he more patient, more charitable, than Epictetus? Was he a greater
philosopher, a deeper thinker, than Epicurus? In what respect was he the
superior of Zoroaster? Was he gentler than Lao-tsze, more universal than
Confucius? Were his ideas of human rights and duties superior to those
of Zeno? Did he express grander truths than Cicero? Was his mind subtler
than Spinoza's? Was his brain equal to Kepler's or Newton's? Was he
grander in death--a sublimer martyr than Bruno? Was he in intelligence,
in the force and beauty of expression, in breadth and scope of thought,
in wealth of illustration, in aptness of comparison, in knowledge of the
human brain and heart, of all passions, hopes and fears, the equal of
Shakespeare, the greatest of the human race?
If Christ was in fact God, he knew all the future.
Before Him like a panorama moved the history yet to be. He knew how
his words would be interpreted. He knew what crimes, what horrors, what
infamies, would be committed in his name. He knew that the hungry flames
of persecution would climb around the limbs of countless martyrs. He
knew that thousands and thousands of brave men and women would languish
in dungeons in darkness, filled with pain. He knew that his church would
invent and use instruments of torture; that his followers would appeal
to whip and fagot, to chain and rack. He saw the horizon of the future
lurid with the flames of the auto da fe. He knew what creeds would
spring like poisonous fungi from every text. He saw the ignorant sects
waging war against each other. He saw thousands of men, under the orders
of priests, building prisons for their fellow-men. He saw thousands of
scaffolds dripping with the best and bravest blood. He saw his followers
using the instruments of pain. He heard the groans--saw the faces white
with agony. He heard the shrieks and sobs and cries of all the moaning,
martyred multitudes. He knew that commentaries would be written on his
words with swords, to be read by the light of fagots. He knew that the
Inquisition would be born of the teachings attributed to him.
He saw the interpolations and falsehoods that hypocrisy would write and
tell. He saw all wars that would be waged, and-he knew that above these
fields of death, these dungeons, these rackings, these burnings, these
executions, for a thousand years would float the dripping banner of the
cross.
He knew that hypocrisy would be robed and crowned--that cruelty and
credulity would rule the world; knew that liberty would perish from the
earth; knew that popes and kings in his name would enslave the souls
and bodies of men; knew that they would persecute and destroy the
discoverers, thinkers and inventors; knew that his church would
extinguish reason's holy light and leave the world without a star.
He saw his disciples extinguishing the eyes of men, flaying them alive,
cutting out their tongues, searching for all the nerves of pain.
He knew that in his name his followers would trade in human flesh; that
cradles would be robbed and women's breasts unbabed for gold.
And yet he died with voiceless lips.
Why did he fail to speak? Why did he not tell his disciples, and through
them the world: "You shall not burn, imprison and torture in my name. You
shall not persecute your fellow-men."
Why did he not plainly say: "I am the Son of God," or, "I am God"? Why
did he not explain the Trinity? Why did he not tell the mode of baptism
that was pleasing to him? Why did he not write a creed? Why did he not
break the chains of slaves? Why did he not say that the Old Testament
was or was not the inspired word of God? Why did he not write the New
Testament himself? Why did he leave his words to ignorance, hypocrisy
and chance? Why did he not say something positive, definite and
satisfactory about another world? Why did he not turn the tear-stained
hope of heaven into the glad knowledge of another life? Why did he
not tell us something of the rights of man, of the liberty of hand and
brain?
Why did he go dumbly to his death, leaving the world to misery and to
doubt?