be confounded with the party which now bears that name. They were the
new school of the early Christians. They rejected the Hebrew law, so far
as it did not rest on human nature, and considered that Christianity was
a new thing; Christ, not a mere Jew, but a universal man, who had thrown
down the wall of partition between Jews and Gentiles. All the old,
artificial distinctions, therefore, were done away with at once. Paul
was the head of the liberal party among the primitive Christians. He was
considered a heretic; and though he was more efficient than any of the
other early preachers of Christianity, yet the author of the Apocalypse
thought him not worthy of a place in the foundation of the new
Jerusalem, which rests on the twelve apostles.[7] The fourth gospel with
peculiarities of its own, is written wholly in the interest of this
party; James is not mentioned in it at all, and Peter plays but quite a
subordinate part, and is thrown into the shade by John. The disciples
are spoken of as often misunderstanding their great Teacher. These
peculiarities cannot be considered as accidental; they are monuments of
the controversy then going on between the two parties. Paul stood in
direct opposition to the Jewish Christians. This is plain from the
epistle to the Galatians, in which the heads of the rival sects appear
very unlike the description given of them in the book of Acts. The
observance of Jewish sacred days was one of the subjects of controversy.
Let us look only at the matter of the Sabbath, as it came in question
between the two parties. Paul exalts Christ far above the Messianic
predictions of the Old Testament, calling him an image of the invisible
God, and declaring that all the fulness of divinity dwells in him, and
adds, that he had annulled the old Hebrew law. "Therefore," says Paul,
"let no man judge you in meat or in drink, or in respect of a holy day,
or of the new moon, or of the Sabbath."[8] Here he distinctly states the
issue between the two Christian sects. Elsewhere he speaks of the Jewish
party, as men that "would pervert the gospel of Christ," by teaching
that a man was "justified by the works of the law;" that is, by a minute
observance of the Hebrew ritual.[9] Paul rejects the authority of the
Old Testament. The law of Moses was but a schoolmaster's servant, to
bring us to Christ; man had come to Christ, and needed that servant no
longer; the law was a taskmaster and guardian set over man in his
minority, now he had come of age, and was free; the law was a shadow of
good things, and they had come; it was a law of sin and death, which no
man could bear, and now the law of the spirit of life, as revealed by
Jesus Christ, had made men free from the law of sin and death. Such was
the work of the glorious gospel of the blessed God. Thus sweeping off
the authority of the old law in general, he proceeds to particulars: he
rejects circumcision, and the offering of sacrifices; rejects the
distinction of nations as Jew and Gentile; the distinction of meats as
clean and unclean, and all distinction of days, as holy and not holy. If
one man thought one day holier than another day; if another man thought
all days equally holy, he would have each man true to his conviction,
but not seek to impose that conviction on his brothers. Such was Paul's
opinion of "The law of Moses;" such, of the Sabbath; the Christians were
not "subject to ordinances."
* * * * *
Let us come now to the common practice of the early Christians. The
apostles went about and preached Christianity, as they severally
understood it. They spoke as they found opportunity; on the Sabbath to
the Jews in the synagogues, and on other days, as they found time and
hearers. It does not appear from the New Testament, that they limited
themselves to any particular day; they were missionaries, some of them
remained but a little while in a place, making the most of their time.
It seems that the early Christians, who lived in large towns, met every
day for religious purposes. But as that would be found inconvenient, one
day came to be regarded as the regular time of their meetings. The
Jewish Christians observed the Sabbath with pharisaic rigor, while the
liberal Christians neglected it. But both parties of Christians
observed, at length, the first day of the week as a peculiar day. No one
knows when this observance of the Sunday began; it is difficult to find
proof in the New Testament, that the apostles regarded it as a peculiar
day; it seems plain that Paul did not. But it is certain that in the
second century after Jesus, the Christians in general did so regard it,
and perhaps all of them.
Why was the Sunday chosen as the regular day for religious meeting? It
was regarded as the day on which Jesus rose from the dead; and,
following the mythical account in Genesis, it was the day on which God
began the creation, and actually created the light. Here there were two
reasons for the selection of that day; both are frequently mentioned by
the early Christian writers. Sunday, therefore, was to them a symbol of
the new creation, and of the light that had come into the world. The
liberal Christians, in separating from the Jewish Sabbath, would
naturally exalt the new religious day. Athanasius, I think, is the first
who ascribes a divine origin to the institution of Sunday. He says, "The
Lord changed this day from the Sabbath to the Sunday;" but Athanasius
lived three centuries after Christ, and seems to have known little about
the matter.
The officers and the order of services in the churches on the Sunday
seem derived from the usages of the Jewish synagogues. The Sunday was
thus observed: the people came together in the morning; the exercises
consisted of readings from the Old Testament and such writings of the
Christians as the assembly saw fit to have read to them. In respect to
these writings there was a wide difference in the different churches,
some accepting more and others less. The overseer, or bishop, made an
address, perhaps an exposition of the passage of Scripture. Prayers were
said and hymns chanted; the Lord's supper was celebrated. The form no
doubt differed, and widely, too, in different places. It was not the
form of servitude but the spirit of freedom, they observed. But all
these things were done, likewise, on other days; the Lord's supper could
be celebrated on any day, and is on every day by the Catholic church,
even now; for the Catholics have been true to the early practices in
more points than the Protestants are willing to admit. In some places it
is certain there was a "communion" every day. Sunday was regarded holy
by the early Christians, just as certain festivals are regarded holy by
the Catholics, the Episcopalians, and the Lutherans, at this day; as the
New Englanders regard Thanksgiving day as holy. Other days, likewise,
were regarded as holy; were used in the same manner as the Sunday. Such
days were observed in honor of particular events in the life of Jesus,
or in honor of saints and martyrs, or they were days consecrated by
older festivals belonging to the more ancient forms of religion. In the
Catholic church such days are still numerous. It is only the Puritans
who have completely rejected them, and they have been obliged to
substitute new ones in their place. However, there was one peculiarity
of the Sunday which distinguished it from most or all other days. It was
a day of religious rejoicing. On other days the Christians knelt in
prayer; on the Sunday they stood up on joyful feet, for light had come
into the world. Sunday was a day of gladness and rejoicing. The early
Christians had many fasts; they were commonly held on Wednesdays and
Fridays, often on Saturday also, the more completely to get rid of the
Jewish superstition which consecrated that day; but on Sunday there must
be no fast. He would be a heretic who should fast on Sunday. It is
strictly forbidden in the "canons of the apostles;" a clergyman must be
degraded and a layman excommunicated, for the offence. Says St.
Ignatius, in the second century, if the epistle be genuine, "Every
lover of Christ feasts on the Lord's day." "We deem it wicked," says
Tertullian in the third century, "to fast on the Sunday, or to pray on
our knees." "Oh," says St. Jerome, "that we could fast on the Sunday, as
Paul did and they that were with him." St. Ambrose says, the "Manichees
were damned for fasting on the Lord's day." At this day the Catholic
church allows no fast on Sunday, save the Sunday before the crucifixion;
even Lent ceases on that day.
It does not appear that labor ceased on Sunday, in the earliest age of
Christianity. But when Sunday became the regular and most important day
for holding religious meetings, less labor must of course be performed
on that day. At length it became common in some places to abstain from
ordinary work on the Sunday. It is not easy to say how early this was
brought about. But after Christianity had become "respectable," and
found its way to the ranks of the wealthy, cultivated and powerful, laws
got enacted in its favor. Now, the Romans, like all other ancient
nations, had certain festal days in which it was not thought proper to
labor unless work was pressing. It was disreputable to continue common
labor on such days without an urgent reason; they were pretty numerous
in the Roman calendar. Courts did not sit on those days; no public
business was transacted. They were observed as Christmas and the more
important saints' days in Catholic countries; as Thanksgiving day and
the Fourth of July with us. In the year three hundred and twenty-one,
Constantine, the first Christian emperor of Rome, placed Sunday among
their ferial days. This was perhaps the first legislative action
concerning the day. The statute forbids labor in towns, but expressly
excludes all prohibition of field-labor in the country.[10] About three
hundred and sixty-six or seven, the Council of Laodicea decreed that
Christians "ought not to Judaize and be idle on the Sabbath, but to work
on that day; especially observing the Lord's day, and if it is possible,
as Christians, resting from labor." Afterwards the Emperor Theodosius
forbade certain public games on Sunday, Christmas, Epiphany, and the
whole time from Easter to Pentecost. Justinian likewise forbade
theatrical exhibitions, races in the circus, and the fights of wild
beasts, on Sunday, under severe penalties. This was done in order that
the religious services of the Christians might not be disturbed. By his
laws the Sunday continued to be a day in which public business was not
to be transacted. But the Christmas days, the fifteen days of Easter,
and numerous other days previously observed by Christians or pagans,
were put in the same class by the law. All this it seems was done from
no superstitious notions respecting those days, but for the sake of
public utility and convenience. However, the rigor of the Jewish
Sabbatical laws was by no means followed. Labors of love, _opera
caritatis_, were considered as suitable business for those days. The
very statute of Theodosius recommended the emancipation of slaves on
Sunday. All impediments to their liberation were removed on that day,
and though judicial proceedings in all other matters were forbidden on
Sunday, an exception was expressly made in favor of emancipating slaves.
This statute was preserved in the code of Justinian.[11] All these laws
go to show that there were similar customs previously established among
the Christians, without the aid of legislation.
About the middle of the sixth century the Council of Orleans forbade
labor in the fields, though it did not forbid travelling with cattle and
oxen, the preparation of food, or any work necessary to the cleanliness
of the house or the person--declaring that rigors of that sort belong
more to a Jewish than to a Christian observance of the day. That, I
think, is the earliest ecclesiastical decree which has come down to us
forbidding field-labor in the country; a decree unknown till five
hundred and thirty-eight years after Christ. But before that, in the
year three hundred and thirteen, the Council of Elvira in Spain
decreed, that if any one in a city absented himself three Sundays
consecutively from the church, he should be suspended from communion for
a short time. Such a regulation, however, was founded purely on
considerations of public utility. Many church establishments have
thought it necessary to protect themselves from desertion by similar
penal laws.
In Catholic countries, at the present day, the morning of Sunday is
appropriated to public worship, the people flocking to church. But the
afternoon and evening are devoted to society, to amusement of various
kinds. Nothing appears sombre, but every thing has a festive air; even
the theatres are open. Sunday is like Christmas, or a Thanksgiving day
in Boston, only the festive demonstrations are more public. It is so in
the Protestant countries on the continent of Europe. Work is suspended,
public and private, except what is necessary for the observance of the
day; public lectures are suspended; public libraries closed; but
galleries of paintings and statues are thrown open and crowded; the
public walks are thronged. In Southern Germany, and, doubtless,
elsewhere, young men and women have I seen in summer, of a Sunday
afternoon, dancing on the green, the clergyman, Protestant or Catholic,
looking on and enjoying the cheerfulness of the young people. Americans
think their mode of keeping Sunday is unholy; they, that ours is Jewish
and pharisaical. In Paris, sometimes, courses of scientific lectures
are delivered after the hours of religious services, to men who are busy
during the week with other cares, and who gladly take the hours of their
only leisure day to gain a little intellectual instruction.
When England was a Catholic country, Catholic notions of Sunday of
course prevailed. Labor was suspended; there was service in the
churches, and afterwards there were sports for the people, but they were
attended with quarrelling, noise, uproar, and continual drunkenness. It
was so after the Reformation. In the time of Elizabeth, the laws forbade
labor except in time of harvest, when it was thought right to work, if
need were, and "save the thing that God hath sent." Some of the
Protestants wished to reform those disorders, and convert the Sunday to
a higher use. The government, and sometimes the superior clergy, for a
long time interfered to prevent the reform, often to protect the abuse.
The "Book of Sports," appointed to be read in churches, is well known to
us from the just indignation with which it filled our fathers.
Now, it is plain, that in England, before the Reformation, the Sunday
was not appropriated to its highest use; not to the highest interests of
mankind; no, not to the highest concerns, which the people, at that
time, were capable of appreciating. The attempts, made then and
subsequently, by government, to enforce the observance of the day, for
purposes not the highest, led to a fearful reaction; that to other and
counter reactions. The ill consequences of those movements have not yet
ceased on either side of the ocean.
The Puritans represented the spirit of reaction against ecclesiastical
and other abuses of their time, and the age before them. Let me do these
men no injustice. I honor the heroic virtues of our fathers not less
because I see their faults; see the cause of their faults, and the
occasion which demanded such masculine and terrible virtues as the
Puritans unquestionably possessed. I speak only of their doctrine of the
Sunday. They were driven from one extreme to the other, for oppression
makes wise men mad. They took mainly the notions of the Sabbath, which
belong to the later portions of the Old Testament; they interpreted them
with the most pharisaical rigor, and then applied them to the Sunday.
Did they find no warrant for that rigor in the New Testament? they found
enough in the Old; enough in their own character, and their consequent
notions of God. They thus introduced a set of ideas respecting the
Sunday, which the Christian church had never known before, and rigidly
enforced an observance thereof utterly foreign both to the letter and
spirit of the New Testament. They made Sunday a terrible day; a day of
fear, and of fasting, and of trembling under the terrors of the Lord.
They even called it by the Hebrew name--the Sabbath. The Catholics had
said it was not safe to trust the Scriptures in the hands of the people,
for an inspired Word needed an expositor also inspired. The abuse which
the Puritans made of the Bible by their notions of the Sunday, seemed a
fulfilment of the Catholic prophecy. But the Catholics did not see what
is plain to all men now--that this very abuse of Sunday and Scripture
was only the reaction against other abuses, ancient, venerated, and
enforced by the Catholic church itself.
Every sect has some institution which is the symbol of its religious
consciousness, though not devised for that purpose. With the early
Christians, it was their love-feasts and communion; with the Catholics,
it is their gorgeous ritual with its ancient date and divine
pretensions--a ritual so imposing to many; with the Quakers, who scorn
all that is symbolic, the symbol equally appears in the plain dress and
the plain speech, the broad brim, and _thee_ and _thou_. With the
Puritans, this symbol was the Sabbath, not the Sunday. Their Sabbath was
like themselves, austere, inflexible as their "divine decrees;" not
human and of man, but Hebrew and of the Jews, stern, cold, and sad.
The Puritans were possessed with the sentiment of fear before God; they
had ideas analogous to that sentiment, and wrought out actions akin to
those ideas. They brought to America their ideas and sentiments. Behold
the effect of their actions. Let us walk reverently backward, with
averted eyes to cover up their folly, their shame, and their sin, as
they could not walk to conceal the folly of their progenitors. The
Puritans are the fathers of New England and her descendant States; the
fathers of the American idea; of most things in America that are good;
surely, of most that is best. They seem made on purpose for their work
of conquering a wilderness and founding a State. It is not with gentle
hands, not with the dalliance of effeminate fingers, that such a task is
done. The work required energy the most masculine, in heart, head, and
hands. None but the Puritans could have done such a work. They could
fast as no men; none could work like them; none preach; none pray; none
could fight as they fought. They have left a most precious inheritance
to men who have the same greatness of soul, but have fallen on happier
times. Yet this inheritance is fatal to mere imitators, who will go on
planting of vineyards, where the first planter fell intoxicated with the
fruit of his own toil. This inheritance is dangerous to men who will be
no wiser than their ancestors. Let us honor the good deeds of our
fathers; and not eat, but reverently bury their honored bones.
The Puritans represented the natural reaction of mankind against old
institutions that were absurd or tyrannical. The Catholic church had
multiplied feast days to an extreme, and taken unnecessary pains to
promote fun and frolic. The Puritans would have none of the saints' days
in their calendar; thought sport was wicked; cut down Maypoles, and
punished a man who kept Christmas after the old fashion. The Catholic
church had neglected her golden opportunities for giving the people
moral and religious instruction; had quite too much neglected
public prayer and preaching, but relied mainly on sensuous
instruments--architecture, painting, music. In revenge, the Puritan had
a meeting-house as plain as boards could make it; tore the pictures to
pieces; thought an organ "was not of God," and had sermons long and
numerous, and prayers full of earnestness, zeal, piety, and faith, in
short, possessed of all desirable things except an end. Did the
Catholics forbid the people the Bible, emphatically the book of the
people--the Puritan would read no other book; called his children Hebrew
names, and reenacted "the laws of God" in the Old Testament, "until we
can make better." Did Henry and Elizabeth underrate the people and
overvalue the monarchy, nature had her vengeance for that abuse, and the
Puritan taught the world that kings, also, had a joint in their necks.
The Puritans went to the extreme in many things: in their contempt for
amusements, for what was graceful in man or beautiful in woman; in their
scorn of art, of elegant literature, even of music; in their general
condemnation of the past, from which they would preserve little
excepting what was Hebrew, which, of course, they over-honored as much
as they undervalued all the rest. In their notions respecting the Sunday
they went to the same extreme. The general reason is obvious. They
wished to avoid old abuses, and thought they were not out of the water
till they were in the fire. But there was a special reason, also: the
English are the most empirical of all nations. They love a fact more
than an idea, and often cling to an historical precedent rather than
obey a great truth which transcends all precedents. The national
tendency to external things, perhaps, helped lead them to these peculiar
notions of the Sabbath. The precedent they found in "The chosen people,"
and established, as they thought, by God himself.
* * * * *
The ideas of the Puritans respecting the Sunday are still cherished in
the popular theology of New England. There is one party in our churches
possessed of many excellences, which has always had the merit of
speaking out fully what it thinks and feels. At this day that party
still represents the Puritanic opinions about the Sunday, though a
little modified. They teach that God created the world in six days, and
rested the seventh; that he commanded mankind, also, to rest on that
day; commanded a man to be stoned to death for picking up sticks of a
Saturday; that by divine authority the first day of the week was
substituted for the seventh, and therefore that it is the religious duty
of all men to rest from work on that day, for the Hebrew law of the
Sabbath is binding on Christians for ever. It is maintained that
abstinence from work on Sunday is as much a religious duty as abstinence
from theft or hatred; that the day must be exclusively devoted to
religion, in the technical sense of that word, to public or private
worship, to religious reading, thought, or conversation. To attend
church on that day is thought to be a good in itself, though it should
lead to no further good, and therefore a duty as imperative as the duty
of loving man and God. The preacher may not edify, still the duty of
attending to his ministration of the word remains the same; for the
attendance is a good in itself. It is taught that work, that amusement,
common conversation, the reading of a book not technically religious, is
a sin, just as clearly a sin as theft or hatred, though perhaps not so
great. Writing a letter, even, is denounced as a sin, though the letter
be written for the purpose of arresting the progress of a war, and
securing life and freedom to millions of men.
Now, it is very plain that such ideas are not consistent with the truth.
In the language of the church, they are a heresy. As we learn the facts
of the case we must give up such ideas concerning the Sunday. It is like
any other day. Christianity knows no classes of days, as holy or
profane; all days are the Lord's days, all time holy time.
* * * * *
But then comes the other question, What is the best use to be made of
the day; the use most conducive to the highest interests of mankind?
Will it be most profitable to "give up the Sunday," to use it as the
Catholics do, as the Puritans did, or to adopt some other method? To
answer these questions fairly, let us look and see the effects of the
present notions about the Sunday, and the stricter mode of observing it
here in New England. The experience of two hundred years is worth
looking at. Let us look at the good effects first.