But the gift of the SPIRIT, that _unction_ of which St. John speaks
(probably in allusion to the anointment of the Hebrew priests, the
interpreters of the Old Law), was not intended as a check but as a
GUIDE to the rational mind of man. ‘He will _guide_ you into all the
truth,’ namely of the simple Gospel. The Divine Spirit of TRUTH has
been promised to sincere Christians, to guide them into all that
concerns their moral safety. The two SPIRITS—the Spirit (i. e. the
mind, so we may call it without irreverence) of God, and the spirit of
man, though infinitely apart from each other in their nature, are
clearly represented by St. Paul as analogous (I might say _akin_) to
each other. Nor could it be otherwise, since the one is the
fountain-head of reason, the other a derived stream. ‘Likewise the
Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should
pray for as we ought; but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us
(with sighs not expressed in words);’ i. e. the divine impulse after
holiness which is in us, makes us sigh for what we cannot express: but
God, who gives us that Spirit, knows what it is we wish
for.”—_Observations on Heresy and Orthodoxy, by the Rev. J. B. White._
Footnote 531:
See the Rev. Mr. Buddicom’s Lecture.
Footnote 532:
The Rev. H. M‘Neile.
Footnote 533:
The Rev. H. M‘Neile’s Lecture.
Footnote 534:
2 Thess. ii. 16.
Footnote 535:
1 Thes. iii. 11.
Footnote 536:
2 Thes. ii. 16.
Footnote 537:
Sacred Classics. Sermons on the Holy Spirit, p. 161. I have lately
read this volume carefully, in the hope of finding some definite
statement of argument for the Trinitarian Theology on this subject,
but in vain.
Footnote 538:
See the Rev. J. E. Bates’ Lecture, and the Preface to the Rev.
Fielding Ould’s.
Footnote 539:
See the Lecture of the Rev. D. James, and indeed the whole tone and
spirit of the Trinitarian Course. Mr. James declared that we denied
the personality of the Holy Spirit, only because we had never _felt_
his operations.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LECTURE X.
CREEDS THE FOES OF HEAVENLY FAITH; THE ALLIES OF WORLDLY POLICY.
BY REV. HENRY GILES.
“LET EVERY MAN BE FULLY PERSUADED IN HIS OWN MIND.”—
_Rom._ xiv. 5.
The essential spirit of the religious revolution which in the 16th
century shook Europe and its thrones, was resistance to ecclesiastical
authority. When Luther burned the Pope’s bull, in Wirtemberg, in one act
pregnant with meaning and with consequences, he broke the spell which
had chained the minds of men for a thousand years, and spread its
fascination over the whole space of Christendom. That single act was a
virtual denial that any church, however high in pretension, however
venerable in institutions, however universal in dominion, however mighty
in power, had a right to enslave his intellect or to silence his
conscience. The English martyr, when ready to be offered up, boasted to
his fellow-sufferer that they would that day kindle such a flame in
England as should never be put out; but the blaze of a piece of
parchment in the hand of the German reformer, was a light far more
significant and impressive—a light at which thousands started from their
slumbers, and although it has often since flickered and been clouded, it
does yet, and ever will, point the way to mental and religious freedom.
Luther and the other reformers, objected to the church of Rome, the
usurpation of unjust authority, and the establishment of a false
standard in faith and practice: they objected to her that she claimed a
dominion over the souls of men which God alone can hold; and they object
that she set aside the supremacy of Christ by encumbering his gospel
with her own traditions. Not alone for alleged errors in doctrine, but
for this error in the very root and foundation of her constitution, they
separated from her communion, and protested against her jurisdiction.
They declared the Bible to be the only ground of a Christian’s faith—the
only guide of his religious convictions, and they claimed for themselves
the right of private judgment and of individual interpretation. We make
the same declaration and assert the same claim, and we neither restrict
nor nullify it by creed, catechism or confession, by tests or articles,
by pains or penalties. Modern Protestant churches, like the reformers,
speak proudly of religious liberty, but like the reformers also, it is a
liberty they are very unwilling to share—a liberty for themselves and
not for others: without claiming infallibility in name, they assume it
in reality; and without giving, as Rome does, the promise of unerring
guidance, they aim at an authority as despotic, and would wrest a
submission as slavish.
The energetic maxim of Chillingworth, “The Bible and the Bible alone is
the religion of Protestants,” is ever and ever repeated even by those
who are pledged to find in it the Athanasian creed and the thirty-nine
articles, and by others who are compelled to extract out of it the
Westminster confession and the longer catechism. With a zeal that never
grows fatigued, it is translated in every tongue and circulated in every
nation; nay, the lisping child must have it to the very letter, and a
fierce war-cry is opened should a school, by selections or omissions,
leave the youthful mind without an opportunity to study the patriarchal
genealogies, the prophesies of Daniel, or the apocalypse of Saint John.
The wide circulation of the Bible we regard as a great social blessing;
but when it is sometimes asked, whether its indiscriminate reading is
suited to all ages and classes, the very question is taken as an
evidence of popery or infidelity in the proposer. To doubt the
perspicuity of God’s word, it is said, is to doubt the wisdom of God’s
providence. The first object of man in speaking to man, is to be
understood; how much more in God addressing his creatures, and on the
most momentous concerns! The Bible, it is asserted, is so plain that the
child may understand it, that he who runs may read, and that way-faring
men, though fools, shall not err therein. If this be true, it is in
itself the death-blow of creeds, for then they are both unnecessary and
absurd—unnecessary, because the statements can be as clearly, can be as
easily found in the Bible as in the creed; absurd, because it is
monstrous folly to attempt making that more distinct which is manifest
enough already. The Bible being, on the orthodox theory of plenary
inspiration, literally the word of God, there is even a degree of
impiety in the presumption of pretending to give a summary of its
meaning in human fabrications, whether from Trent or Augsburgh, from the
palace of the Lateran or the hall of Westminster.
That simplicity is a characteristic of the Bible, at least in its main
tendency, I cordially admit; it is the especial quality of the gospel. I
could desire no better test by which to try the value of creeds. If the
evangelists John or Matthew were again to appear on earth, bringing with
them their first simplicity, ignorant of the wrangling disputes, of the
vain scholasticism which have disturbed this world and the church since
they were taken to their rest—if the Athanasian document were put into
their hands, there is nothing in their gospels which enables me to think
they could understand it; if moreover they were told that the whole of
it could be deduced from their writings, I speak in all earnest
solemnity when I say, that at such an assertion I can conceive of them
as no otherwise than utterly bewildered and surprized. Take our Lord’s
sayings and discourses as reported by his evangelists, and contrast them
with the creed we are discussing. With what undisguised simplicity is
God ever spoken of, always presented in some intimate relation to our
duty or his own providence—as an object of worship, of trust, or of
love! Pray to thy Father who is in secret, and thy Father who seeth in
secret shall reward thee openly. If ye being evil know how to give good
gifts unto your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give
good things to them that ask him. Touch me not for I have not yet
ascended to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God. Such is
the clear and touching phraseology in which Christ always speaks of God,
and thus gives, not a scholastic dissertation, but a revelation to human
affections. And in the same spirit of simplicity is his own nature also
manifested; he who in all things was meek and lowly in heart, who went
about doing good, and came to seek and save the lost. Astonishing
mysteries indeed has Athanasian theology made out of these plain
statements, having found in them a trinity in unity, and a unity in
trinity; the Father uncreate, the Son uncreate, and the Holy Ghost
uncreate; the Father incomprehensible, the Son incomprehensible, and the
Holy Ghost incomprehensible; the Father eternal, the Son eternal, and
the Holy Ghost eternal, and so on; and though each is distinctively
asserted to be uncreated, incomprehensible, and eternal, we are to
believe on pain of eternal damnation, that they are not three eternals,
but one eternal—not three uncreated, but one uncreated—not three
incomprehensibles, but one incomprehensible. Surely of all
incomprehensibles this theological jumble is the most incomprehensible.
If to defy contradiction by the very sublime of absurdity be a safeguard
from refutation, the Athanasian creed must stand eternally unconfuted.
Plausible falsehood, however ingenious, may be stripped of its
sophistries, but there is a certain degree of wild fabrication which may
challenge all the efforts of philosophers and logicians, yet remain as
firm as before in the bulwarks of its impenetrable nonsense. It may be
truly said that these are things on which we cannot reason; most
certainly they are, for they subvert at once all possible principles of
reason and of truth. But the climax of these astounding marvels is, that
we are assured that if we do not hold this Catholic faith, “without
doubt we shall perish everlastingly.” And this precious document, this
compilation of monkish mysteries and scholastic jargon, is set forth as
the accurate definition of the Christian faith—the test of saving belief
or of damnable heresy; this production of crazy or crafty churchmen,
this concentration of hoary absurdities, of bewildered metaphysics, and
of savage bigotries, presumes to utter the judgment of God, and to
launch the thunder of the skies. Beginning with the pride of
infallibility, it closes consistently with a sentence of perdition; and
for this there is pleaded the language of the gospel—language evidently
misinterpreted, as any language must be which would identify the spirit
of Christ with the spirit of Athanasius. So on the ground of two false
assumptions, those who pride themselves in this Athanasian orthodoxy are
privileged to denounce with a safe and quiet conscience perdition on
their heretical brethren. First, it is assumed that when the gospel
says, “He that believeth not,” it must mean, he that believeth not the
three creeds; and, secondly, it is assumed that when the gospel says,
“He that believeth not shall be condemned,” the condemnation implied is
everlasting destruction. This is in the genuine spirit of Church and
Creed Christianity, fencing in a little and a barren paradise with the
brambles and the briars of theological definitions, making holiness and
virtue dependent on ecclesiastical syllogisms, and shutting out all from
heaven who may be compelled to disagree with the doctors of Nice, or the
compilers of our English liturgy, who hold the faith of Milton and
Locke, but cannot be convinced by Bull, Waterland, or Sherlocke. Creeds
pronounce perdition, and Churches hold up Creeds; and ministers come
forth to magnify the glory of these Churches and to maintain the verity
of these Creeds; but men of meek tempers and tolerant hearts seem half
ashamed of their work, and in the effort to soften dogmatical ferocity,
make a vain effort at compromise between their consistency and their
charity. It is all fruitless: the dark and damning malediction is
written on these Creeds with a pen of adamant; the preacher’s feelings
are of no avail, and he is commanded by his system to proclaim them
aloud and afar—to hold them as warrants of eternal death to all who
gainsay or deny them. At the best, orthodox charity, after all
admissions, can only embrace different shades of Trinitarians;
Unitarians must still remain outside the pale of hope; if therefore
condemned we must be, it is of but small importance in what form or on
what theory. To those who are to enter the regions of the lost for ever,
questions on essences and persons, with many other most grave
disquisitions, can signify but little; nor can much consolation be
derived from the reflection, that but a hair’s breadth from the
Unitarian heresy, theology by evasions and distinction might have given
us a refuge in the doctrine of Sabellianism. We are, however, most
gravely told that he who receives not the Athanasian Creed, cannot be
saved—a Creed at which reason, as it was well said, stands aghast, and
Faith itself is half confounded; a Creed, of which it was better said,
that it is alike contrary to common sense, to common arithmetic, and to
common charity.
Were the exposure of the Athanasian formulary the design of this
Lecture, I should feel that I had undertaken a very needless and a very
presumptuous task, needless, because in this age there are few that
attach any importance to it; presumptuous, because, if minds are not
affected by its self-confutation, I have not the vanity to pretend to
any arguments which could shake their convictions. But one can scarcely
suppress a feeling of sorrow and surprise at seeing this document
dragged out for defence in the nineteenth century; this mixture of
monkish metaphysics and scholastic bigotry, a production which
multitudes of the orthodox themselves conspire to repudiate, and of
which many of the best and highest minds in the Church of England have
been most heartily ashamed—of which they desire to be well rid. Were the
defence of such a creed to be taken as a true sign of the times, there
would be cause indeed for pain to think that we had been rolled back
again into the dark ages; but it is not so; such things are rather marks
that show us how far the advancing tide has moved beyond them. In the
course of the present Lecture I desire it to be distinctly understood,
that I oppose creeds in their very principle: it is not alone such as I
think false, but though I believed them true, I would yet oppose their
use. My opposition is directed against the spirit of creeds, and if my
own opinions were attempted to be forced in that form, my opposition
would be the same. I am in this place to maintain a principle, the
principle of intellectual, moral, and Christian freedom, and because
creeds, as I think, are at variance with this, I denounce them. I intend
nothing against individual professors. If I should give them offence, I
have no wrong motive with which to charge myself, and must attribute it
to the necessity of plain speaking on a subject by no means agreeable;
but whether pleasant or not, I have a duty to perform, and I must as far
as my power goes, endeavour to do it honestly and faithfully.
The title of this Lecture is, that creeds are the foes of heavenly
faith, and the allies of worldly policy. It is my object to show that
this accusation is not lightly or unjustly advanced; and in making good
this two-fold charge, the greatest perplexity which attends it, is the
multifarious and abundant evidence whereby it can be established.
I. I proceed first to prove them the foes of heavenly faith.
Creeds disqualify the mind for the pursuit of truth. This is my first
assertion, and I shall establish its correctness in several particulars.
Creeds generate mental apathy and mental dependence, and this is fatal
in the very outset. To a spirit of inquiry there is needed an impulsive
intellectual activity, and to this activity there is needed a desire for
the thing to be attained, and a sense of its importance. There is no
labour without motive, and if in religious belief, the creed has defined
before-hand all that is necessary for my salvation, I have no necessity
to take any more trouble in the matter. If I am to rest on authority at
last, it is just as well for me to be satisfied with it at first—if
after toilsome inquiry, at the peril of my soul’s eternal peace, the
dogmas of the creed are those to which my conclusions must return, I had
better be at once content—if I must believe as the Church believes, if I
must believe as the Creed says I should believe, if I must believe as
the priest declares my hope of heaven requires, if after criticism and
research, long and patient, I must arrive at but one exposition of the
Bible, it is but wisdom to spare myself from such a pressure of useless
labour. But indolence in this case is not merely allowable, it is, in
fact, the safest. If to doubt be danger, and if to disbelieve be sin,
then the curiosity which stimulates examination may lead me into ruin,
whilst implicit submission, that receives all and questions nothing, is
a condition of peaceful security. The incitements to mental labour are
analogous to those to any other sort of labour; it is that one shall be
the richer and the better for it, and that what he acquires he may
justly possess. But, if by independent inquiry I may become morally
poorer and spiritually worse, if I shall have no right to my own
thoughts, and must be despoiled of my convictions, or punished for them,
when I have worked them out with the struggle of every faculty, it is
exceeding folly to risk the misery and irritation of being torn between
my opinion and my creed, conscience forcing me to acquiesce, and reason
compelling me to doubt. This view is no supposition; it is fact.
Submission to Creeds and Churches, is the true cause of that wide spread
moral torpor in every country where Creeds and Churches have dominion.
There is nothing so rare as intelligent, independent religious
conviction; and how can it be otherwise, when each leans upon his
priest, and the priest gives him ready-made opinions, as they were
formed a thousand years ago. There is a general and profound ignorance
of the sources of opinion, the history of opinion, of the philosophy of
opinion, and of the Bible, both in its letter and in its spirit. Speak
to multitudes of religion, in any broad or liberal sense, and it seems
to them as if it were an unknown tongue. To have any chance of
attention, you must use terms which Creeds have sanctified, you must
address them in traditionary phrases, which have the sectarian or
sacerdotal currency. This never could have been had religion been
recommended as a subject of individual and independent study, leaving
the mind free, both in its pursuit and its conclusion. That I have
stated nothing but what fact justifies, I may appeal to any one who has
considered the religious condition of this country, or of Europe
generally, and considered it in every rank of society. I speak not of
the Spaniard, who has not yet rid himself from the palsy of the
Inquisition, who can go from the prostration of the confessional to
scenes of the wildest crime; I speak not of the Italian, that compound
of profaneness and credulity, of sin and devotion, who can bow before an
image, and with the same hand cross himself, by which a minute before he
plunged his stiletto in his fellow-creature’s heart. I speak not of our
own peasantry, who Sunday after Sunday, walk statedly to church or
chapel, and know little more than that they went there and came back
again; I speak not of the fashionable wealthy, who, on this point, are
commonly as ignorant as the boor, and choose religion as they choose
every thing else, as it happens to be the mode; I pass these by, because
it may be said, that pleasure and gaiety leave them no time for study;
but I will refer to multitudes who are esteemed devout and serious
Christians, whose minds passively receive the mould of their teachers,
and to whom religion never presents itself as a system of various
thought and of independent examination. Now, this ignorant apathy has
bad effects, which are not merely negative; and at the risk of
anticipating, I will allude in a few words to one or two of them: it
gives stability to every error and corruption, and holds to them with an
obstinacy, against which wisdom has no power; it is the very soil in
which priestcraft grows darkest and foulest; and the hierarchy in any
age or country has never risen to its full stature of lordliness, until
the people have lain lowest in torpid submission. And, in addition to
this, there is no uncharitableness so inveterate, there is no bigotry so
intolerant, as that which this species of character matures, for as it
is unable to comprehend an opposite opinion, it is equally inadequate
and unwilling to weigh the arguments in its favour, or to estimate the
evidence on which it is maintained. Having no conception of independence
itself, independence in another appears presumption, if not something
worse, and never having imagined that other opinions could possibly be
true except its own, to hold any different could only be explained by
supposing a want of honesty or a want of grace.
I might dwell upon the fear by which Creeds paralyse the faculties of
weak or sensitive natures, by which they deprive them of all power for
calm and deliberate examination, by the fear of being excluded from
their Church, by the fear of being discarded by their friends, by the
fear of being cast into hell, above all these, by the fear of losing the
favour of God, and the friendship of Jesus, and with right and true
minds, this is the greatest of all fears. In the midst of so many
terrors, it is too much to expect that our weak humanity could be
calm,—that it could look with unmoved heart at the appalling indications
of so many and dire threatenings, it is like examining a man on the
terms of his faith, while the officials of persecution are arranging the
faggots or putting screws in the rack. From this topic, disagreeable in
any shape, I pass on, and assert, that Creeds are enemies to truth,
because, by preconception and prejudice, they disqualify the mind to
seek or apprehend it. This is my second, and in this section, my last
position.