CHAPTER I.

THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF

CHRISTIAN DOGMA

THE

ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT

OF

CHRISTIAN DOGMA

AN ESSAY

_IN THE SCIENCE OF HISTORY_

BY

CHARLES A. H. TUTHILL

LONDON

KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE

1888

(_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._)

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

INTRODUCTION 1

I. THE FOUNDATION OF MONOTHEISM 4

II. THE MESSIANIC FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY 33

III. THE CHRISTIANITY OF CHRIST 65

IV. JEWISH CHRISTIANITY 93

V. PAGAN CHRISTIANITY 112

VI. CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT CHRISTIANITY 142

VII. THE PERMANENCE OF DOGMATIC RELIGION 160

THE

ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT

OF

CHRISTIAN DOGMA.

INTRODUCTION.

If we compare Christianity with the other dogmatic religions of the

world, we are at once struck by a feature peculiar to it, namely,

the complexity of its doctrinal system. A glance at the Athanasian

Creed is sufficient to show that this peculiarity results from the

existence of fundamental inconsistencies in the dogmas of Christianity.

Such inconsistencies are not found in other religions, whether, like

Mohammedanism, they have at once sprung into full maturity at the time

of their creation, or whether, like Judaism, they have passed through a

long and slow process of development. The inconsistencies of Christian

doctrine clearly cannot be ascribed to the necessary tendencies of

the evolution of dogmatic religion; they must be due to special

circumstances connected with the history of Christianity.

What these circumstances were there is no difficulty in ascertaining.

The fully developed dogmatic system of Christianity is the product

of the union of two opposite streams of religious tendency. From

the collision of the monotheism of Judaism with the polytheism of

Paganism the inconsistencies of its doctrines have sprung. In the

doctrine of the Trinity, which takes up so much of the Athanasian

Creed, we have the clearest evidence of this. But, in reality, the

whole of Christianity is pervaded by the contradictions inseparable

from the combination in it of the characteristics of monotheistic and

polytheistic religion. This combination is the source of its unique

power; it thus can satisfy both the higher and the lower class of

religious instincts; but its complex and confused theology is also an

inevitable result.

The distinctive feature of the doctrinal system of Christianity can

thus be readily explained by a reference to the conditions of its

origin. To investigate in detail, by the same method of historical

inquiry, the causes which produced its separate dogmas, is the object

of this essay. The origin of the earlier ones must be traced through

the history of Judaism; the later ones were Pagan, but they were

grafted on a Jewish stock. Starting from primary religious ideas, we

have to examine the growth and modification of theological dogma. Our

study, accordingly, will take us over the whole period of history.

CHAPTER I.

THE FOUNDATION OF MONOTHEISM.

At the time of the birth of Christianity, only in one portion of the

Roman world could a new and pure religion have arisen. The fusion of

the empire had, by destroying their national basis, fatally weakened

the Pagan religions; so far as real feeling was concerned, they had

passed into the hands of the ignorant classes exclusively, and had

lost the vitality in which alone the higher religious forces can

germinate. Philosophies, resting on a common basis of contempt of the

popular polytheism, were the refuge of the more enlightened. Between

philosophers and those who still believed in the power of the ancient

gods there existed a vast mass of people who had religious instincts

with no sure means of satisfying them, ripe subjects for the new

religion which they looked for but could not originate. At this time,

throughout the Pagan world, a high and systematic morality could

only be reared on an intellectual basis which destroyed sympathy

with common men; in no part of it could have been developed the pure

enthusiasm needed for the founding of a great religion.

One region of the empire alone was free from the symptoms of religious

decay. In the small district of Palestine, with many offshoots

scattered over the world, lived a people who professed a religion of

the purest type. And this religion was not a lightly held philosophical

theory; its adherents clung to it with a passionate tenacity, and

were ever ready to face martyrdom in its defence. It was a pure

monotheism, and morality was inculcated by it, indeed, maintained by

it, in the strongest and most effective fashion. With justice Josephus

could assert that Greek philosophers only followed the example of his

countrymen, and taught doctrines which the Jewish sacred law had made

practical realities.[1] For Judaism was not an esoteric creed which

only the more cultured Jews fully understood; the lowest of the people

grasped its principles, abhorred the idea of polytheism, detested even

the smallest advance towards idolatry, and regarded every sin as a

violation of divine decrees. Such a religion, pure and strongly held,

was fit to be the parent of a noble religious system. In it originated

the earliest doctrines of the religion which now sprang from it and

conquered the Roman world. And as Judaism was in a special sense a

national religion, its development must be examined in the history of

the Jewish people.

We cannot, with any approach to historical certainty, assert more

respecting the social and political condition of the first known

ancestors of the Jews, than that they belonged to a race of nomad

tribes wandering in the district which, roughly speaking, lies between

Egypt and Palestine. In endeavouring to ascertain the religious ideas

of this race, we may safely assume that the character of their religion

was determined by the circumstances of their position. Living in a

region which is either desert or barren and unprofitable land, the

softer influences of nature could not affect them. The terror of nature

would fascinate them; lightning and tempest would speak to them of

their gods, and from the harshness of their surroundings they would

derive the gloomiest impressions of the powers of the supernatural

world. Their religion would be essentially a religion of fear.[2]

Having little to deify on the earth around them, their mythology

would be based on the phenomena of the sky. Sun and moon and stars

would be their divinities, and to these they would ascribe jealous

and implacable tempers. This sternness of their religion would carry

with it many advantages. Their deities would be more majestic, more

removed from themselves, than the gods of happier peoples, and the

humility they would feel in worship would have within it the seeds of a

higher religious development. A still more important feature of their

mythology would be its narrowness. The poverty of their environment

would cause their gods to be few and limited in number. No fresh

divinities would discredit the older ones and reveal the weakness of

their theology. And this would be likely to produce a serious effect on

the outward form of their religion.

Whenever a common polytheism is professed by peoples politically

separate, there is a tendency to localise deities. Now a large

mythology throws great difficulties in the way of this tendency. If

there are many gods, each one individually is too unimportant to be

the divinity of a people, and the political divisions of course being

few, after every tribe or state has appropriated a deity, a surplus is

left with no particular duty to discharge. When this occurs, it usually

results that the national deities are formed into a higher order of

gods; and probably divine oligarchies, like that of the Hellenic

mythology, are always created in this manner. But it is obvious that if

the number of gods is small at the time of the formation of political

divisions, the process of localization is greatly facilitated. The

fewer they are, the more honour attaches to the gods individually; each

one is sufficiently dignified to become the god of a separate people.

After a system of this kind has been fully developed, the gods form a

federal council, in which each state or tribe has a representative. The

quarrels and rivalries of the earthly bodies are of course transferred

to their heavenly representatives; all local patriotism expresses

itself in the general religion.

From the evidence of the early records of the Jewish people we may

conclude that the race from which they sprang went through a process of

this character. In these, Israel, whether as a tribe or as a people,

is often described as associating with other tribes or peoples, and

comparing its own god with theirs, a common basis of religious belief

being assumed.[3] The god of Israel seems to be regarded as superior to

the other gods; but this does not imply that distinctions of rank were

recognized in the common mythology. An intelligent Englishman would

hardly assert that his country is now the chief European power; but

if any other state were named as a possible enemy, he would probably

say that his own was more than a match for it. In the same way,

patriotism expressing itself in religion, the Israelites considered

their own god, or heavenly representative, more than a match for any

other, and this naturally involved a belief in his superiority. From

these conditions a spurious monotheism would necessarily result.

In proportion as their patriotism was strong, the Israelites would

worship exclusively the tribal god, though thoroughly believing in

the existence of others. This, of course, is only polytheism, but it

contains within it the possibility of monotheistic development.

Such probably was the state of the religious ideas of the Israelites at

the time they came into connection with Egypt. Previously they had been

one among many cognate tribes having a common polytheistic mythology.

In this mythology they had a tribal god, whom they worshipped without

denying the existence of the rest. While mixing and constantly coming

into collision with other tribes, each owning, of course, a similar

deity, tribal patriotism must have made them, for the most part,

devote themselves to this god exclusively. When they arrived in Egypt,

they found there a system of religion utterly unlike their own, and

this would confirm them in adherence to it. Being then a small tribe,

they could more easily pay strict allegiance to the tribal god. As

they increased in numbers, both through ordinary growth and through

receiving accessions from cognate peoples outside, this allegiance

would begin to be endangered. While they were a small tribe often

meeting with other tribes which had different gods, patriotism would

make them cling to their own. But when they became a large tribe, and

ceased to come in contact with other branches of their race, not only

would tendencies towards polytheism in actual worship be strengthened,

but the check upon them in the shape of tribal patriotism would be

weakened. They would thus be likely to drift back into the racial

polytheism, their tribal god being lost in the rest. The opposition

to the Egyptian religion[4] would rather help this tendency, as it

would throw them more on their feelings of race. So, on the whole, it

is probable that the Israelites, during their connection with Egypt,

became more or less ordinary polytheists.

In one respect, however, their relations with Egypt must have tended

to maintain their adherence to the tribal god. The period of struggle

against Egyptian power which preceded their departure from Egypt must,

by stimulating their patriotism, have prevented the remembrance of

his old rank from being wholly lost. Patriotism could not have been

completely disassociated from the divinity who had formerly been the

centre round which it rallied. The outburst of patriotic fervour

necessarily accompanying the actual conflict with Egypt, as well as

its ultimate success, must have enormously increased the influence of

the tribal god. For a time, we may be sure, he regained his original

distinction, and became to the Israelites the representative of

heaven. During the first serious fighting in Palestine, he would for

the same reason retain his power. But then, as the national warfare

degenerated into a series of detached tribal contests, the old tendency

towards polytheistic worship would revive. To ascertain what forces

counteracted this tendency, we must consider a new question.

Judaism may as well be said to have been founded by Moses as

Christianity by Christ. Even if we knew nothing of its founder, there

are features of Christianity which we could only explain by referring

them to the influence of a personal character. There are peculiarities

of Judaism, too, which have to be traced back to the personality of

its founder. Moses and Christ, indeed, are inseparably connected in

history. One completed what the other began. Without Moses, Christ

could hardly have existed; without Christ, the work of Moses would

have been of little value to the world. This presumption from internal

probability corroborates the traditional evidence, and justifies us in

accepting its general outline.

If the Israelites migrated from Egypt under the leadership of Moses,

and thus began their national life, it was very natural that he should

be to some extent their legislator as well. Their leader, under such

circumstances, must have had great ability, and also enormous power.

His ability, together with his power, would lead him to consolidate

the energies of his people, in order to fit them for the difficult

task lying before them; and this could only be done by a system of

legislation. Accordingly, we may assume that the foundation of the

Jewish law was laid by Moses, though it is very hard to ascertain what

that foundation actually was. The ten commandments, in their simplest

form, are generally admitted to be relics of the Mosaic age. To account

for the first and most important of these we have, in particular, to

call in the authority of Moses. “I am Jahveh thy god; thou shalt have

none other gods beside me,” is the foundation stone of the development

of monotheism. It implies the existence of polytheism, but it decrees

that polytheism shall be abolished. If the people, or any class of

the people, continuously obeyed it, they had in time to become pure

monotheists. If they ceased to think of other gods, these gods would

ultimately pass out of remembrance, and Jahveh alone would occupy

heaven. Jewish monotheism, with all its wonderful consequences, must be

ascribed to the framer of the first commandment.

We have to assign its authorship to Moses, because of the difficulty

of otherwise accounting for it. That it was a spontaneous decree of the

people, produced by their confidence in the national god after their

victory over the Egyptians, is very improbable. Many reasons, however,

can be given for its having been decreed by Moses. The explanation just

mentioned is more probable when applied to him. He may, as Professor

Kuenen conjectures,[5] have regarded the national success as a proof of

the greatness of the national god, and so have vowed the people to his

exclusive service. The connection between this hypothesis and the idea

of a covenant between Jahveh and Israel, to be referred to presently,

is in its favour. But a stronger reason for believing the commandment

to be due to Moses might be found in his desire to secure the national

unity. The Israelites had grown so numerous as to be divided into

separate tribes. If the people had more gods than one, the old process

would be repeated, each tribe choosing a different god for its tribal

deity; and thus their religion would help the tendency towards

disunion. We know how the unity of Greece was anything like a reality

only when it was based on the worship of Apollo at Delphi, Apollo

becoming practically the national god of the Hellenes.[6] If no rivals

of Apollo had existed, how much more effective his worship would have

been! In general it may be said that, in an early stage of political

development, national unity can be secured against tribal separation

only by basing it on religion. A close union was specially necessary

to the Israelites at this time, when they had to struggle against so

many peoples in order to obtain a home. Recognizing the impossibility

of otherwise securing this union, Moses may well have framed the first

commandment in order to give the tribes at least one bond of union in

the exclusive worship of Jahveh, their national god.

We may conclude, then, that from the Mosaic age it was part of the

Israelitic religion that the tribal, or national, god should be

worshipped exclusively. The people, whatever might be their practice,

had accepted the principle. The second and third commandments, which

prohibit idolatry and the misuse of Jahveh’s name, are evidently meant

to be supports of the first, by demanding reverence for Jahveh and by

abolishing the records of his rivals. The next two are merely local.

But the last five, the second table of the law, are the basis of a

feature of the Jewish religion even more important than its monotheism.

That the morality of the time, so far as it existed, should have

been based on religion is natural enough; and, accordingly, at first

sight, there seems to be nothing remarkable about the five moral

commandments. When examined closely they are found more curious.

The first four, though simple rules which tribal experience might

have shown to be necessary, are still exceptional as the laws of a

half-civilized people. The last takes us into a region of morality

with which it is impossible that the Israelites could then have

been acquainted. Only a highly civilized mind could have conceived

the precept, “Thou shalt not covet.” Here again we are driven for

explanation to the personality of Moses.

These commandments are inexplicable as the product of a low

civilization, but they are very natural if a high civilization be

assumed as their basis. Egypt was at this time highly civilized, and,

as we know from the “Book of the Dead,” had developed a pure morality,

with which the last commandment would be thoroughly in harmony. If

we could assume that Moses once belonged to the inner circle of

Egyptian civilization, the peculiarities of Judaism would be fully

explained. The early traditions represent him as brought up in the

king’s household, and, accordingly, in a position to be acquainted

with the best philosophy of the age. A later tradition says he was

“instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.”[7] And probabilities

are distinctly in favour of this. The power and authority he exercised

over the Israelites could be readily accounted for if he was a member

of their tribe who had received the highest education of the time. Such

a training must have developed his faculties, and marked him out as the

leader of his countrymen, ensuring their reverence for him, and trust

in his ability to rule them.

In a region of historical inquiry like that in which we are now moving,

we must be content to be guided by conjecture. When a conjecture

asserts what is intrinsically probable, and at the same time explains a

complex series of phenomena, we may fairly consider it to be accurate.

The conjecture that Moses drew his inspiration from the higher culture

of Egypt is of this kind.[8] There was nothing strange in his stamping

the principles of that culture, if he was acquainted with it, on his

Israelitic legislation. He had an unequalled opportunity of realizing

the ideals of conduct. Political circumstances had placed the destinies

of his people in his hands. Commands coming from him had an authority

only possible at the beginning of national life. It is thoroughly in

accordance with probability that he should have seized the occasion

offered him, and imposed laws on the nation he ruled which, unless they

passed utterly out of remembrance, would ensure it a noble development.

From the evidence of the ten commandments it is thus almost certain

that the Israelitic religion was, even at its beginning, peculiarly

moral. The people were commanded to worship Jahveh exclusively, and

also to practise a severe morality. From this connection between

Jahvism and morality important consequences were bound to follow.

All ancient religions were more or less marked in practice by a

sacrificial system. The idea at the bottom of the custom of offering

sacrifices is very simple. Men, as a proof of their devotion, give

to their gods some of their possessions. The immediate object may

be either to win the divine favour or to avert the divine wrath.

When a religion is harsh and severe, the latter is likely to be the

more frequent sacrificial motive. Accordingly, when the Israelites

sacrificed to Jahveh, it was probably for the most part to remove

Jahveh’s anger, to obtain forgiveness for their sins against him.

Now exactly in proportion to the closeness of the connection between

Jahvism and morality would be the tendency of these sins to be real

sins. When sins are included among offences against a religious code,

they are pretty sure to be the offences most frequently committed.

Hence it follows that the early sacrificial system of the orthodox

Israelites must have been largely directed to the atonement of sin.

If, then, we could accept the accounts in the Pentateuch as an

accurate description of the sacrificial customs of the Mosaic age,[9]

with external evidence corroborating internal probability, we might

regard our conclusion as proved. But, as Professor Kuenen has shown,

the whole system of the Jewish ceremonial law described in the

Pentateuch was, in at least its final and consolidated form, the result

of the labours of the period of Ezra and Nehemiah. It thus becomes a

question of great difficulty to determine what portion of the law, if

any, existed in early times. A few statements of the prophets seem

to imply that in the Mosaic age no sacrifices at all were offered

to Jahveh.[10] But the prophets cannot be considered trustworthy

authorities for the early history of Israel. They wrote under the

pressure of immediate circumstances, and with a very definite purpose.

This purpose, as will afterwards be shown, required them to cast

discredit on sacrifices. In doing so, their repeated references are

evidence that a full sacrificial system in connection with the worship

of Jahveh was established in their time.[11] Here their testimony

is irrefragable, and it proves that such a system must have begun

before their age. No period was so likely to have originated it as the

earliest, when the foundations of the national life were laid.

But the strongest argument in favour of the conclusion that sacrificing

to Jahveh for the atonement of sin began in the Mosaic age is, that

thus only can subsequent phenomena be explained. The great point in the

history of Jewish religion is the magnificent period of the prophets.

Their writings are the noblest expression ever given to religious and

moral ideas. We explain their pure monotheism by deducing it from the

institution of the first commandment, which necessitated in a class

obeying it continuously the ultimate development of the belief that

Jahveh was the one God “that made the earth and created man upon it,

that stretched out the heavens and commanded all their host.”[12] How

can we explain their wonderful morality except in the same way? We

know from the commandments that moral excellence was required by the

religion of Jahveh from the very first. If thus from the beginning

morality was impressed on Jahveh’s worshippers by a sacrificial

system which declared every sin to be an offence against him that

must be expiated at a personal cost, we can understand how any class

continuously adhering to him should in time have developed a morality

in which sin was hated for its own sake, and goodness made the essence

of religion. Such vivid and constant evidence of Jahveh’s hatred of sin

would naturally, after many generations, produce the pure morality

of the prophets. But otherwise it is inexplicable. A mere theoretical

connection between Jahvism and morality might ultimately have made

the Jahvists better than the worshippers of other gods, but it could

not have created that marvellous passion for righteousness which made

the Jewish religion at its best the greatest the world has ever seen.

This conclusion does not involve the belief that in the Mosaic age the

system of sacrificing for sin was fully developed. If the foundation

of it was laid then, the conditions of the problem are satisfied. The

system would ensure its own subsequent development. Once Jahveh’s

hatred of sin was marked by any practical effect, as time went on,

through the moral growth of the people who grasped the doctrine, that

hatred would seem to deepen, to become more comprehensive and complete.

A conclusion which explains so much, and has probability so greatly in

its favour, may fairly be accepted.

If from the age of Moses the religion of Jahveh was thus inseparably

connected with morality, all the best of the people would rally round

it. Unless Israel at any time was wholly without a remnant that loved

righteousness and hated iniquity, Jahvism must always have had its

earnest supporters. The same cause, of course, would tend to make it

unpopular with the mass of the people. But for this, it would be

difficult to understand why the Israelites, down to the captivity,

were so persistent in their devotion to strange gods. Jahveh was their

national divinity, and a mere love of polytheism could hardly account

for this incessant desertion of him. The close connection between

Jahvism and morality fully explains the phenomenon. The Israelites

in general found Jahveh too severe for them, and turned to gods more

tolerant of evil-doing, just as Catholic sovereigns used to choose

indulgent confessors. This fact would only confirm the few more

strongly in their allegiance. The worshipper of Jahveh would justly

extol Jahveh in comparison with Baal, as he compared himself with the

worshipper of Baal. And thus through the purity of Jahveh’s adherents

their religion would be saved from the contamination of baser elements,

and would necessarily develop in simplicity and truth. Sin, at first

hated chiefly because Jahveh forbade it, would at last be hated

because of its own foulness; Jahveh, at first reverenced merely as the

national saviour, would at last be reverenced as the lord of heaven and

earth. Down the channel of Jahvism flowed all the higher forces of the

national life, till at length they broke forth in the wave of moral

and religious energy which finally overcame resistance in the grand

struggle of the prophets.

Though the majority of the people usually worshipped other gods, and

thus broke their own sacred laws, we are not to suppose that they

denied Jahveh’s existence, or even his right to worship. They must

have been pure polytheists, believing that many gods reigned in the

heavens. Among these they held it to be their right to choose, just

as a lower-class Catholic will choose his favourite saint. But they

fully admitted that Jahveh was the national god; and in periods of

danger, when patriotism was strongly excited, it is likely that for the

moment they returned to the exclusive worship of him. Thus the power of

Jahvism over the people at large would rise and fall with the national

fortunes. When Israel was prosperous, Jahvism prospered too; when

Israel declined, Jahvism declined as well. For we may well believe that

the Israelites flourished just in proportion as they were united. The

book of Judges is probably in the main historically correct. The tribes

would drift apart, or even quarrel with each other, and their enemies

would overcome them and take their cities. Then a wave of patriotism

would sweep over them; they would reunite and become victorious in

their turn. From this it is easy to see what credit Jahveh would in

time acquire, even among the entire people. Union brought with it

national happiness and success, but the adoption of Jahvism was the

condition of union. So it would appear to them that by returning

to Jahveh and observing the precepts of their sacred law they could

always secure prosperity. When serving Jahveh faithfully, they would

have good fortune; after falling away from him, they would quickly

be plunged in calamity. How soon this would create a conviction of

Jahveh’s irresistible power! In their misfortunes they would see Jahveh

punishing them for their apostacy; in their successes they would see

Jahveh accepting their repentance and restoring his protection.

Thus in time all the people would in one sense become Jahvists. They

would believe that Jahveh was their true god, and that they ought to

worship him alone. When they turned to other gods, they would do so

with a distinct consciousness of evil-doing and a certain expectation

of punishment. Jahveh’s severity of moral requirement would render it

impossible for them to serve him willingly; they could never become

true Jahvists. But in their hearts would always be a sullen fear of

Jahveh, a belief that he punished terribly. This was the chord of

popular feeling which the prophets touched, and to the existence of

which they owed their success.

These conditions would naturally in time produce the belief that a

covenant had been concluded at the beginning between Israel and Jahveh.

The true Jahvists would of course eagerly proclaim that Israel’s

happiness depended on obedience to Jahveh, that calamity was the result

of his just anger, and prosperity the consequence of his favour. But

that Jahveh should have given notice of this, and shown the ways of

good and evil from the first, would soon seem to be necessary. Hence

in later times it would be thought that Jahveh had formally concluded

a covenant with the Israelites, in which he engaged to protect them

and make them prosperous, on condition that they served him and kept

his law.[13] All the failures and misfortunes of the nation would

be ascribed by the Jahvists to the breaking of this covenant by the

people, and the consequent drawing down of the penalties of its

violation on their heads.

From the development in Jahvism of this idea that suffering was a

divine punishment followed the most important results. If national

suffering was considered to be due to national breaking of the law,

equally private suffering would be ascribed to private breaking of the

law. Sin would be looked on as the cause of suffering. Abstinence from

sin was commanded by Jahveh, and so every sin would be a violation of

his commands that invited punishment by him. Private suffering would

then be regarded as the proof of sin, as Job’s friends regarded it, and

as the divine chastisement of it. But of course it would seem right

that the chastisement should be proportioned to the sin, and limited

for each offence. Thus, in time, suffering would be considered the

atonement of sin, Jahveh’s punishment of it, after which his favour

would be restored. But sacrifices, as we saw before, were the legal

means of atoning for sin. If a man sinned, then, in order to escape

the suffering which otherwise would be the penalty of his sin, he

would offer a sacrifice. Now Israelitic sacrifices, as they were a

pastoral people, were mainly offerings of living beasts. Under these

circumstances there would certainly be a tendency to imagine that the

penalty of sin was laid on the sacrificial victim, that its suffering

and death were accepted as the atonement in place of the suffering of

the offender.

Professor Kuenen, basing his opinion on the fact that no direct

mention of it occurs in the law, believes that this idea of atonement

by vicarious suffering did not enter into the Jewish sacrificial

system.[14] The legal permission in certain cases of a sin offering of

meal or flour[15] supports his conclusion. On the other hand, vicarious

punishment was clearly recognized in one great ceremony of the law.

The scapegoat is described as bearing away the sins of the people into

the wilderness in which it was left to die.[16] With a tendency of the

sacrificial system towards the belief in vicarious punishment, and

clear evidence in one instance of its recognition, we may safely assume

that it entered to some extent into the feelings of the people when

they sacrificed. Probably it was never consciously developed in the

law, and so it was not directly mentioned, and, in exceptional cases,

inanimate offerings were allowed. But after the sacrificial system had

been long in existence, the constant repetition of animal sacrifices

would naturally produce the belief. We find the principle of vicarious

punishment asserted in the prophets, and fully developed in the sending

away of the scapegoat. We may safely conclude, then, that, from the

beginning, it was latent in Jahvism, and gradually grew as Jahvism

passed into Judaism, until at length it reached maturity in the first

great dogma of Christianity.

Such a principle, growing in Jahvism, would tend still more to develop

a hatred of sin. Morality exists because, from the simple observation

of social phenomena, sin is connected with suffering, and calamity of

some kind regarded as its inevitable consequence. But this connection

of sin with suffering would be placed far more vividly before the

worshipper of Jahveh, as his religion gradually forced on him the

belief that “without shedding of blood there is no remission.”[17] In

the blood of the victim sprinkled on Jahveh’s altar, the Israelite

would see stern evidence of the inexorable severity of Jahveh against

sin—a severity so great that he could not forgive it without exacting

the penalty, though his mercy might allow the transgressor to find

a substitute. Harsh and cruel Jahvism thus would be, even rooted in

injustice; but in effect it would be grandly moral, stamped with a

condemnation of sin that, at such a stage of civilization, was of

priceless value.

From the Mosaic age, then, on to the period of the prophets, we can

imagine the development of Jahvism in Israel. There was always the

nucleus of true Jahvists, who observed the law so far as it existed,

and steadily grew in spirituality and moral insight. They were the

national party; for them tribal divisions could have had but little

importance. From among them, in times when the national fortunes were

near ruin, always uprose the deliverers, as the pure flame of their

patriotism drew to them the nobler elements of the people. They, in

fact, were Israel, a continuous power representing the national life.

Through a long struggle, marked by many a martyrdom, they contended

against the downward tendencies of the rest of the people, until at

length, after the final destruction of Israel’s material greatness,

they won the victory and impressed their principles on the entire

nation. It was no mere sense of the superiority of Jahvism that

sustained them for the longest part of this contest. That could only

be felt strongly towards the end, when the chief fruit of the struggle

had been gained. Their fierce patriotism was their real strength. To

them Jahveh seemed to be King of Israel, and his law the constitution

of their state. In idea their government was a theocracy; even an

earthly viceroy impaired Jahveh’s prerogatives.[18] This was possible

because Jahveh was the national god, universally recognized as such. As

the national god, the worship of him was patriotism; he was the ideal

object of Israel’s self-love. All their religious feelings flowed in

a patriotic channel. Church and state were blended in one; love of

their country inspired their passionate devotion to their religion.

This close union of religious and national feeling afterwards continued

with the relations inverted, patriotic feeling flowing in a religious

channel.

In connection with its intense patriotism, Jahvism from the beginning

must have been distinguished by a rigid exclusiveness. The greatest

danger it had to face was the corruption of the Israelites by the

religions of the peoples around them. To guard against this danger, it

would naturally insist on the sternest separation of Israel from the

Gentile nations. Circumcision, as well as other local customs, it used

as means of fulfilling its purpose. Jahvism was probably at first

fiercely cruel. The injunctions to extirpate the Canaanites contained

in the books of the law, which Professor Kuenen considers to be the

expression of the Jewish hatred of foreigners after the captivity, and

only “murder on paper,” in all likelihood faithfully represent the

feelings of the Jahvists in early times. They must have seen their

fellow Israelites constantly deserting Jahveh for the gods of other

peoples, and it is natural that they should have wished to remove such

temptations in the most effective manner. Probably they did not succeed

in gratifying their desires, except in a few instances when national

feeling was strongly roused. The Israelites in general, we may be sure,

were easily corrupted, and were in too much sympathy with foreign gods

to destroy their worshippers. But the Jahvists must have been fierce

haters of foreigners, and eager in every way to build an insurmountable

wall around Israel. This strict exclusiveness, inevitable and,

indeed, praiseworthy in early times, afterwards came into collision

with the higher tendencies of Jahvism when it attained its maturity.

The subsequent Messianic ideal, as it existed in the noblest minds,

involved a struggle against these influences, which, in its youth, had

been a hard shell enclosing and protecting the Jewish religion.

For the most part the battles of Jahvism must have been with the

local religions of the lands the Israelites conquered.[19] Intermixing

with the conquered peoples, in race kindred to themselves, they

would readily adopt the divinities they found in possession of the

soil. Thus, in different districts, Jahvism was opposed to different

religions[20]—a fact which was afterwards the subject of the bitter

irony of Jeremiah.[21] But its longest and most important conflict

was with the religion of Baal, some particular deity worshipped under

this generic title. The history of Elijah illustrates the severity and

uncertainty of the struggle. To the Jahvists probably its fierceness

was wholly due. They would tolerate the existence of no other religion,

and so, in self-defence, other religions were bound to persecute

them. This long contest with Baal must have been of great service to

Jahvism.[22] It strengthened the fanaticism of the Jahvists, and showed

vividly to the people the zeal their religion inspired. When actually

put face to face with other gods, the superiority of Jahveh must have

been so manifest as to gain for him many adherents.

During the early history of Israel, up to the time of the kings,

in spite of occasional interruptions, the national fortunes were

prosperous, and the territory of the Israelites increased in extent.

Jahvism, as the national religion, would naturally share in the

prosperity of the state. In the golden age of Israel, the age of

David and Solomon, it must have had great nominal power. The large

Israelitish empire which then existed must have appeared convincing

proof that the national deity had kept his part of the covenant, and so

the people would be more disposed to abide by theirs. But Jahvism could

not have really sunk into the hearts of the Israelites; their devotion

to it was strong in the sunshine, but failed in the storm. When the

kingdom was split in two, and the fortunes of the Israelites steadily

declined, and great empires, in comparison with which, even united,

they were as nothing, overshadowed them, then Jahvism seemed threatened

with utter ruin. Only the devotion of its true adherents, whom the days

of its success had enabled to develop in appreciation of its value,

saved it from destruction.

Still, even during the closing struggle, Jahvism must have included

in its ranks a large proportion of the people. The language of the

prophets is clear evidence of this. The strong phrase, “I am full of

the burnt-offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts,”[23] which

Isaiah puts in the mouth of Jahveh, is a proof that many sacrifices

were then being offered to him. Signs of only a formal adherence they

probably were; and it was not merely to extend the nominal limits of

their religion, but to change this formal adherence into a real grasp

of its principles, that the prophets fought their battle and won Israel

for Jahveh.