WE say “reverent” out of pure regard to the feelings of multitudes of
devout persons who verily believe that Jesus was and is God, and so any
criticism of him is simply blasphemous. This subject is not to be
treated in a light or frivolous manner.
We say “reverent” also out of respect to a smaller number of so-called
_liberals_ who deny the divinity of Christ, but who nevertheless believe
that Jesus was the _one_ pre-eminently good and wise man, and that no
man equal to him ever existed or ever will exist upon the face of this
earth; that he was the special Son of God, the model man, worthy of
worship as the man who possessed so much of the divine spirit as to
entitle him to the place of honor and grateful remembrance among men for
all time and in all countries.
We think it more honest and respectful to reverently inquire into the
evidences of his divine character, and not to accept with blind
credulity what other men say. We are endowed with reason, and it seems
to us proper that we should exercise our rational faculties, and not
ignore them altogether. Honest _doubt_ must be more acceptable to him,
_if_ he is God, than unreasoning faith.
Now, we propose to look at him in the light of the New Testament, and
especially of the Gospels, assuming them to be authentic. We shall here
pass by his infancy and childhood (utterly ignoring the doubtful and
controverted passages concerning his immaculate conception and
miraculous birth), and take the first direct account we have of his
life. This commences when he was about _twelve_ years of age. We are
told that he accompanied his mother and putative father to Jerusalem,
whither they went to attend the feast of the Passover. Luke states that
he strayed away from his parents, who were greatly concerned for his
safety, but he was at length found in the temple among the doctors
asking and answering wonderful questions, so as to astonish all who
heard him with his wonderful knowledge. His mother gently reproved him
for giving them so much anxiety, and he answered back, rather
impatiently, “How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not that I must be
about my Father’s business?" But he went home with his parents and was
subject to them, and for at least eighteen years dwelt with them and his
brothers James, Joses, Judas, and Simon. The names of his several
sisters are not given. During these eighteen years he is supposed to
have learned the trade of a carpenter and worked with his reputed
father, who was a carpenter, spending the most vigorous portion of his
life in manual labor, only devoting about three years to his mission as
the Messiah. Now, Jesus is held up as an “example,” and we are “to
follow his steps,” and it does not appear that there was anything in his
example specially worthy of imitation for about thirty years. We must
find it in the last years of his earthly career if we find it at all.
The first instance in which the evangelists bring Jesus forward as a
moral teacher is in the Sermon on the Mount. This discourse is supposed
by Christians to be the masterpiece of wisdom and deep spiritual
insight. While Matthew gives it as a complete discourse, Mark and Luke
intersperse the substance of the sermon throughout their Gospels; which
is strong presumptive proof that it was not delivered as a connected
discourse. Like the book of Proverbs, it seems to be a collection of the
moral sayings of former times, many of which can be pointed out, with
slight verbal alterations, in the writings of pagan authors and of more
modern Jews of the Hillel school. In fact, there is nothing in the
sermon which had not been taught by many others a long time before,
while there is much that is absurd and impracticable, not to say untrue
and unjust. Even the deep spirituality involved in recognizing the
spirit and intent of the law can be paralleled by several passages in
Buddhistic scriptures. The so-called “Golden Rule” was announced by
Confucius as an axiom nearly five centuries before the Christian era,
both in its positive and its negative form, while the same maxim is laid
down in most choice and beautiful language by Isocrates, Aristotle,
Sextus, Pittacus, Thales, and many others from three to six centuries
before Christ.
The same is true of the Lord’s Prayer, though it is often asserted that
Jesus first taught the “Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man.”
This is not true. The “Lord’s Prayer” is found in the ancient Jewish
rituals, and is entitled a “Prayer to the Father,” and the expression
“Our Father who art in heaven” is common to many, if not all, nations
and religions.
While there are several things in the Sermon on the Mount truly
beautiful, there is nothing that is strictly _original_; there are many
sayings which show a great lack of knowledge, and that are positively
impracticable and immoral in their tendency. No Christian tries to keep
these sayings. It would lead to vagabondism and would convert a nation
into a crowd of tramps. It would be positively immoral to obey them. If
Jesus did not _intend_ that his teachings should be taken according to
the common sense of the words used, why did he not say so? What is
language for but to express one’s meaning? So far from teaching the
non-resistance of evil, in other places he runs into the extreme of
teaching revenge. (See Luke 10:10-12; Matt. 10:14, 15; Mark 6:11.) He
also sanctions the most gross injustice. He commends the unjust steward
(Luke 16:5-8), saying that he had “done wisely” in cheating his employer
by compounding with his creditors, and advises his hearers to make
“friends” of the “mammon of unrighteousness.”
Moreover, whoever is familiar with the teachings ascribed to Jesus must
know that his first condition of discipleship is _the total surrender of
all worldly possessions and the non-accumulation of earthly treasures
thereafter_ (Matt. 16: 24; Luke 14: 26, 27; Matt. 19, etc.). Can words
be more emphatic than the utterances of Jesus reported in Matt.
6:19-34?—“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and
rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal.”... “For
where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”... “Ye cannot
serve God and mammon.”... “Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for
your life, what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink, nor yet for your
body, what ye shall put on.” This absolute unconcern about food and
raiment is emphasized by repeating the injunction twice: “Therefore take
no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or,
Wherewithal shall we be clothed?”... “Take therefore no thought for the
morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.”
The attempts of theologians to modify these precepts are most
preposterous. They tell us that Jesus meant to discourage _anxious_
thought about worldly possessions and wants—that he intended to condemn
undue anxiety and worriment of mind; and they even assert that the
original word implies and justifies this rendering. To this it may be
replied, We cannot be certain as to what particular words Jesus used, as
we have no manuscripts of the Gospels dating back to within four hundred
years of his time, and the alleged copies that we have are not
authenticated; so that an argument, even if justified by learned
criticism, based upon the implied meaning of particular words is
useless, unless we are sure, as we cannot be, that Jesus used those very
words, and that he intended that his disciples and other unlearned and
uncritical hearers should accept the implied rather than the obvious
meaning.
But, taking the words in the Greek manuscripts of the Gospels now most
approved by scholars, we deny that there is anything in them to justify
the interpolation of the word “anxious” between the words “no” and
“thought.” There is the highest classical authority for the assertion
that the verb employed here simply means to “care,” “to be careful,” “to
heed,” and is so translated in other portions of the New Testament, as,
for examples, in 1 Cor. 7: 32, 33, 34; Phil. 4:6; 1 Pet. 5:7; and in
many other passages. When Paul exhorted the Philippians to be “careful
for nothing,” because the Lord was about to appear in judgment, he
obviously meant that it was not worth while to make any provision for
future bodily wants.
It is a universally-admitted principle of critical interpretation that
the meaning of words in any given text must be determined from the
context, the connection in which the word occurs. It so happens that
Jesus has illustrated his doctrine in this connection so as to make it
impossible to doubt as to the meaning of the words employed: “Behold the
fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather
into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not ye much
better than they?”... “And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the
lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin,
and I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like
one of these.”
The use of the illative word, “_wherefore_, if God so clothe the grass,”
and the word “_therefore_ take no thought,” show beyond doubt that Jesus
intended to teach, and did teach, that his disciples were to be as
indifferent to matters of food and clothing as are the birds of the air
and the flowers of the field. Not only did he use words that sanction
the utmost improvidence in regard to future bodily wants, but he gave
the sense in which his words were to be received by referring them to
the well-known unconcern of the birds and lilies.
But it may be further shown what Jesus meant to teach by reference to
his own life and the lives of his first followers. There is little or no
evidence in the Gospels or elsewhere that Jesus or his first disciples
ever possessed any earthly goods whatever, or that they ever engaged in
any of the useful or wealth-producing avocations of the country in which
they lived. Matthew speaks of Jesus as the son of a carpenter, and Mark
calls him “the carpenter, the son of Mary.” The fervid imaginations of
modern writers have depicted Jesus as an apprentice to his father and
laboring at the carpenter’s trade, but there is no evidence that he ever
pushed a plane or drove a nail. There is no reason to believe that he
ever erected a house for others, and it is certain that he never built a
house for himself, for he has told us that “the foxes have holes and the
birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man has not where to lay his
head.” There is not in any of the Gospels one single word accredited to
Jesus in favor of industrial pursuits, not one syllable to justify the
accumulation of property, or any forethought whatever for sickness, for
helpless infancy, or tottering age.
When Jesus sent out his disciples he expressly forbade them to make any
provision for food or raiment. He said, “Provide neither gold or silver
nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats,
neither shoes, nor yet staves, for the workman is worthy of his meat.”
They were to throw themselves upon the charities of the world, accept
such things as were given them, and to manifest the utmost indifference
to worldly comforts. There is no evidence that any of the followers of
Jesus who listened to his personal instructions ever engaged in any
worldly avocation, except to catch a mess of fish when driven by hunger
to do so. They lived from “hand to mouth,” and if they had lived in our
day they would, every one of them, have been denominated “tramps,” and
would have been amenable to our modern laws of vagrancy. ’Tis true,
there seems to have been some sort of care about future possible wants,
but only on the communistic principle. They had a treasurer in the
person of Judas Iscariot, but no _individual_ possessions were allowed.
We are told (Acts 4: 26) regarding early Christians, “Neither was there
any among them that lacked; for as many as were possessors of lands or
houses sold them and brought the prices of the things that were sold,
and laid them down at the apostles’ feet, and distribution was made unto
every man according as he had need.” In Acts 2:44, 45 the facts are also
fully set forth: “And all that believed were together and had all things
common, and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men
as every man had need.” Whatever was allowed as a community, it is
certain that no individual was allowed to accumulate or retain property
on his own personal account.
In perfect consistency with the view here presented Jesus taught that
the possession of riches was almost sure to debar one from heaven—that
while it might be possible for a rich man to be saved, because all
things are possible with God, nevertheless it is “easier for a camel to
go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into
heaven.” Riches were always denounced by Jesus, and poverty eulogized as
if it were a virtue in itself, commending one to the favor of God and
greatly increasing his prospects for the heavenly inheritance. If the
triple testimony of the synoptical Gospels amounts to anything, it shows
beyond a doubt that Jesus would accept no man as a disciple who
continued in the possession of worldly property, or who accumulated
earthly riches, or who allowed himself to think of the future
necessaries of life, even food and clothing. At the same time, the most
promiscuous and profuse almsgiving was enjoined: “Sell all that thou
hast and give unto the poor,” was the literal injunction. “Give to him
that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou
away.”
Besides this, he required absolute non-resistance: “But I say unto you
that ye resist not evil, but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right
cheek turn to him the other also “And whosoever shall compel thee to go
a mile, go with him twain “And if any man will sue thee at the law and
take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.” This is even more than
non-resistance; it is a reward for unprincipled men to impose upon you.
It would be impossible to state the principle of absolute non-resistance
in stronger language. But modern commentators tell us that Jesus did not
intend to be so understood—that he merely intended to condemn the spirit
of strife and retaliation. Why, then, did he not say so? Which shall we
accept—what Jesus plainly and repeatedly said, or what commentators say
he meant?
What are we to say about the doctrine of _bodily mutilation_ taught in
the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5: 29, 30)? Theologians of to-day tell us
that these words are to be taken in a metaphorical sense—that to secure
salvation we must sacrifice every passion that would lead us into sin,
though it might be as dear as a right hand, foot, or eye. The reason
assigned by Jesus for enforcing this precept cannot be reconciled with
the assumption that it was intended to be figurative: “For it is
profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that
thy whole body should be cast into hell.” If by members of the body
Jesus _meant principles or passions_ that might tempt and entrap one
into evil, we must charge upon the precept the absurdity that it would
be better to enter into heaven with one evil principle or passion than
to be cast into hell with many evil principles and passions! The literal
interpretation is favored by the fact that in ancient times bodily
mutilation was recognized in religious matters. In Matt. 19:12, Jesus is
reported to have said, “And there be eunuchs, which have made themselves
eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake. He that is able to receive it,
let him receive it.” If this is not a sanction of bodily mutilation,
what can it mean? That it was understood literally by many early
Christians cannot be denied. The ascetics of the second century
practised the most extreme literal mortification of the flesh, and even
in the middle of the third century Origen, one of the most learned of
the Christian Fathers, destroyed his own manhood by bodily mutilation as
an act of piety. Much curious matter upon this subject may be found in
Mosheim’s _Ecclesiastical History_, page 310, and also Gibbon’s _Decline
and Fall_, chap. xv. and notes.
The fairest and most reasonable way to ascertain what Jesus taught is to
study his own life, and then to follow his example. It will be somewhat
startling to many when we announce the proposition that the religion of
the Christian Gospels is monastic and ascetic in the extreme, and that
Jesus himself was an ascetic, and that he required his disciples to
become such. One thing is certain: No man can study the character of
Jesus and his teachings, his own life and the career of his immediate
disciples, without admitting the monkish character of their religion. It
was emphatically the religion of sorrow, the religion not only of
anti-naturalism, but of unnaturalism. It virtually said: “Whatever is
natural is wrong; whatever you desire is wrong. To do what is painful is
right, while to do what you want to do is certain ruin. Life must be one
incessant wail of suffering if it is to be followed with eternal
blessedness. The body is the enemy of the soul, and the world the enemy
of God. Worldly prosperity is a curse in disguise, while poverty and
want and persecution and suffering of all kinds are indications of the
divine favor.” (See _Secret of the East_, by Dr. Felix L. Oswald.)
At the very commencement of his public career Jesus formed an alliance
with that hardiest of anchorites known as John the Baptist, and in all
the Gospels the close relationship between the missions of John and
Jesus is constantly recognized. It is a tradition of the early Church
that Jesus was never known to smile, and there is an implication in the
Gospels that his face was prematurely old. He recommended a life of
religious mendicancy and voluntary poverty as absolutely necessary for
admission to his kingdom.
But there was scarce anything in the teachings of Jesus that had not
been insisted upon for hundreds of years before by the monks of India,
Egypt, and other countries. It is impossible to go into details, but no
man of reading will deny this allegation. Like the ancient monks, Jesus
practised long fastings and abstained from flesh meats, though he ate
fish and vegetables. He neither possessed nor sought to acquire any
worldly property. While going about the streets and the seashore
teaching by day, he generally resorted, like ancient monks, to the
mountains and wilderness at night, and his principal religious devotions
were performed in the darkness of midnight. He abstained from marriage,
and had but little regard for the domestic relations. Asceticism was the
distinguishing characteristic of the early Church, and the doctrine of
the community of goods was practically received by the Church for two
hundred years, and is so received by many to-day.
So far from practically condemning the literal teachings of Jesus as we
find them in the Gospels, we take the ground that they were just what
might have been expected from one holding the doctrine that the world
was about to be destroyed and a new kingdom established upon the
regenerated earth, of which he was to be the king and his disciples the
princes. If there was anything definite in the teachings of Jesus, it
was the speedy coming of the end of the world. Carefully study the
twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew, the thirteenth of Mark, and the
twenty-first of Luke if you have any doubts upon this subject.
The attempt of theologians to make it appear that Jesus only referred to
the destruction of Jerusalem is most absurd. It virtually charges Jesus
with the inconsistency of giving information upon one subject when his
disciples desired information upon another. They asked him for signs
that should precede the destruction of the world, and he distinctly
affirmed, “This generation shall not pass away till all these things are
fulfilled;” “There be some standing here that shall not taste death till
they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom” (Matt. 16:28). The
doctrine of the almost _immediate_ end of all mundane things as they
then existed is the only key to unlock what seems so absurd in the
teachings of Jesus. If he believed what he taught as to the speedy end
of the world, it was perfectly consistent for him to condemn the holding
or accumulating of property, and to commend the most indiscriminate
almsgiving, the most absolute non-resistance, with bodily mortification
and mutilation, and a life of unworldliness and practical mendicancy and
poverty. Jesus and his disciples taught and acted just as men would
teach and act if they believed that the end of the world was at hand.
His disciples so understood him.
In the year 960 A. d. there was in the Christian Church a revival of
this doctrine, and the speedy end of the world and the second coming of
Jesus were proclaimed with great earnestness. The clergy as a class
adopted it, and encouraged people to give away their possessions. A
universal panic prevailed; all business was suspended; men abandoned
their families, and multitudes undertook a pilgrimage to Palestine to
meet their returning Lord.
It is hardly necessary to mention the craze of “Millerism” in 1843 in
this country, when many, in perfect consistency with their belief, gave
up their possessions and prepared their “ascension robes,” and waited
anxiously for the end. If the clergy of all denominations should now
unite in proclaiming just what Jesus predicted concerning the end of the
world, just in proportion as people sincerely believed the message they
would at once literally accept the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount,
and act accordingly.
This leads us to the inevitable conclusion that much of what Jesus
taught can only be understood and justified by his particular view and
representation of the almost immediate end of all earthly things; and
this understanding of the subject is much more creditable to Jesus as a
teacher than the assumption that he failed to make himself understood,
and that he did not mean what he said, though both he and his disciples
practically in their lives exemplified the unworldliness and asceticism
that he preached.
We submit as a key to the enigmas of the Sermon on the Mount and other
hard sayings attributed to Jesus that he and his disciples believed and
taught that this world was about to be made new, that the then present
order was about to terminate, and that therefore earthly possessions and
pursuits were of no consequence, and even the domestic relations were of
little account.
That the teachings and examples of Jesus (in many respects) cannot be
accepted by the people of the nineteenth century without a complete
overthrow of existing institutions and forms of civilization is a
self-evident fact. We must abandon all industrial pursuits, change all
our views of the rights of property, adopt the communistic principle and
policy, and lead lowly lives of self-denial and bodily mortification and
discomfort.
We repeat that the teachings and example of Jesus were natural and
rational from his conviction of the approaching end of all things.
It would be easy to point out many other things in the Sermon on the
Mount equally defective and offensive to reason and common sense, but we
forbear. We have dwelt upon this celebrated sermon at such length
because it is held up as a model of moral teaching. We pronounce it a
very inferior compilation of things good and bad, not at all
corresponding with proper ideas of practical morality, and not adapted
to the present necessities of civilization.
What is said of the Sermon on the Mount may be said of many portions of
the alleged teachings of Jesus. We mention only a few instances. The
parable of the Unjust Steward justifies a worldly cunning and a
decidedly dishonest act (Luke 16:5-8). Jesus commends him, saying that
“he had done wisely” in cheating his principal, and advises his
disciples to “make to them friends of the mammon of unrighteousness.” A
more grossly dishonest act could not have been committed by a person
acting in a fiduciary capacity. To follow his example would overthrow
all business integrity and lead to universal knavery.
In the parable of the Unjust Judge he gives a very low and
anthropomorphic view of God and the efficacy of prayer. It is this: A
certain woman went to a judge for a certain favor, and he would not
grant her request. She persisted, and finally he said, “Though I fear
not God nor regard man, yet because this widow troubleth me I will
avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.” Then the lesson
taught: “And shall not God avenge his own elect which cry unto him day
and night, though he bear long with them?” This certainly teaches that
if one teases and worries God long enough, he will answer the prayer
without regard to the rightfulness of the petition. Dr. Adam Clark says
in his _Commentary_ that the expression “she weary me” is a metaphor
taken from boxers, “who bruise each other about the face, _blacken the
eyes!_” We forbear to remark on this blasphemous doctrine.
We pass on without specifying the manifestly unjust principles laid down
in the parables of the Laborers in the Vineyard, the Ten Talents, the
Great Feast, and other parables, the manner in which he treated the
woman of Canaan, the mystification and evasions he used, leaving her in
doubt with regard to his real meaning, and the many instances in which
he gave irrelevant answers and unfair and illogical conclusions. His
teachings were notable for their obscurity and ambiguity; he tells us he
did not desire to be understood; and no wonder that his most trusted
disciples wrangled about his true meaning and came to opposite
conclusions. His own family did not believe in him, and some persons
thought him insane. Indeed, his mysterious and enigmatical style is so
marked that it suggests whether, after all, what is said to have been
spoken by Jesus was not the utterances and traditions of initiates in
the second Christian century?
The claim of autocratic official authority to forgive and punish, to
deny before God those who should deny him before men, to denounce whole
cities for want of faith in him, to come in God’s name to judge all
mankind, to proclaim everlasting punishment and declare that some should
never be forgiven, mars the beauty of Jesus’ character. A real
deficiency in his teaching was the absence of any explicit declaration
of human brotherhood. It is a remarkable feet that no clear statement of
this idea is recorded of Jesus. But the lack was supplied in a certain
form by Paul, whose broader ethnic experience and more liberal culture
made him recognize the demand more fully, and who was therefore bound to
have it satisfied in his religious ideal. This was easy, since he had
never seen Jesus, and could construct his personality as his own
reverence and sense of human need might prompt.
The clearest statement of human brotherhood in the New Testament is that
ascribed to Paul: “God hath made of one blood all the nations of the
earth.” Yet even in Paul’s mind it seems to have been conditioned on
faith in his Master. All were “members of one another, whether Jew or
Gentile, bond or free;” but it was only in so far as they were, or were
fit to be, “in the body of Christ.” Cicero and Seneca rest human
brotherhood on broader and deeper foundations. “All are members of one
great body,” says Seneca also; but in what sense? “By the constitution
of nature, which makes us kindred, and more miserable in doing than in
receiving an injury; and by whose sway our hands are prepared for mutual
help.” Paul says, “In Christ is neither bond nor free.” But Seneca says
more broad-ly, “Virtue invites all, free-born, slaves, kings, exiles. It
asks no questions about rank or wealth. It is content with the bare
man.” Again, exhorting Nero, he says: “Do not ask how much of
manumission is endurable, but how much the nature of justice and good
will allows you which bids you spare even captives and persons bought
with a price. Let slaves find refuge before the statute; if all things
are permitted you (by custom and power) against a slave, there is that
which the common law of life forbids to be done to a man; for the slave
is of the same nature as yourself.” So Cicero says: “No other things are
so alike as we are to each other;” “There is no one of any nation who
cannot reach virtue by following the light of nature;” “The foundation
of law is that nature has made us for the love of mankind.”
Other testimonies to like effect might easily be adduced from “heathen”
writers of that age. And the later Stoics do but echo the thought of
their predecessors from the days of Zeno and Cleanthes when they
reiterate in the broadest terms the belief that men are created for the
very purpose of mutual good. And Philo says: “We all are brothers by the
highest kind of kindredship, as children of reason;” “Slavery is
impious, as destroying the ordinances of nature, which generated all
equally and brought them up as if brethren, not in name only, but in
reality and truth.” But with the apostles of Christianity, as probably
with Jesus himself, brotherhood was inseparable from belief in “the
Christ.”
But let us not overlook the facts that the Gospels attribute to Jesus
certain beliefs which our present knowledge positively contradicts, and
even sentiments and claims which the highest morality cannot approve.
For example, take his belief in diabolic possession; his claim of power
to forgive sins and to judge mankind with his disciples on twelve
thrones; his denunciation of cities that should not receive his
messengers; his official retaliation (Matt. 10: 33); the unpardonable
sin; his giving Peter the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and to his
apostles the same powers; the second coming of the Son of man, with
destruction of the world and the coming judgment day within that
generation; condemning to endless punishment those who have not succored
believers; no salvation to those found unrepentant at his coming; the
sinning brother who will not hear the Church to be treated as a heathen;
his sweeping denunciation of Pharisees and Scribes; a personal devil and
an everlasting hell; power over deadly serpents and the taking of
poisons without injury; the working of miracles by faith, even to the
removing of mountains and tearing up trees, raising the dead, etc. etc.
etc.
But not only are the teachings of Jesus subject to criticism, but his
acts are equally so. Take for an example the manner in which he
addressed his mother when found disputing with the doctors in the
temple, but more particularly hear his words to his mother at the
wedding in Cana. She told him that the wine had run out, and he answered
in the most uncouth manner, “_Woman_, what have I to do with _thee?_”
That is to say, of what concern was his mother to him, and what had he
to do with her trouble about the wine being out? Then the making of the
wine, upon which the people got drunk, was by no means worthy of
imitation. The quantity, according to some divines, was not less than
two or three hogsheads of intoxicating drink, enough to last the balance
of the week. The guests were already drunk, and, though the wine was
made out of water, it was nevertheless highly intoxicating. We might
also mention his rude answer when his mother desired to speak to him
(Mark 3: 21-35). At the time of his triumphal entrance into Jerusalem he
took an “ass and colt,” the private property of some person, without
permission, and the bystanders so understood it. He went immediately to
the temple and beat out with a whip all the merchants (whom he calls
thieves), all legitimate dealers in animals and doves for religious
sacrifice, and violently overthrew the tables of the money-changers,
whose business seems also to have been legitimate. This act was a
“breach of the peace,” and in any civilized country would have been
followed by arrest and imprisonment. It was not right that he should
assert his authority by such disorderly conduct, and that too upon the
eve of the celebration of a religious ceremony. When waited on by a most
respectable deputation of public men who served officially (Matt. 23:
21) and inquired of him “by what authority he did such things,” instead
of answering them frankly and making known to them his mission, he
raised an irrelevant question, and because they could not tell whether
“John’s baptism was from earth or heaven,” he refused to give any
apology or explanation of his most treasonable and violent actions. He
addressed the Scribes and Pharisees in the most extreme language,
calling them “vipers,” “blind guides,” “hypocrites,” “serpents,” etc.,
and used fulminations that were calculated to excite the worst passions
and the most atrocious acts. He told them that they were “whited
sepulchres” and “fools.” When he was accepting the hospitalities of a
Pharisee (Luke 11:37-54) he abused and denounced both the host and his
guests. He is said to have looked on the Pharisees “with anger,” thus
violating what he taught. His unjustifiable conduct toward the “barren
fig tree” will not be overlooked. It was not the season for figs; he had
no right to expect to find fruit on that tree, yet he “cursed” it, and
here again destroyed private property without rendering an equivalent.
So with the swine of the Gadarenes. This story is childish and wicked,
and his action resulted in the destruction of animals which must have
been valued at about four thousand pounds sterling. He was also
chargeable with dissimulation greatly at variance with moral rectitude.
When his brothers would have him go to Jerusalem to attend the feast of
tabernacles he declined, and advised them to go without him. But when
they had gone, “then went up also to the feast, as it were in secret”
(John 7: 2-10).
He certainly here practised deceit. When walking with the two disciples
to Emmaus he pretended to be another person, and when they arrived there
he “made as though he would go farther that is, he pretended what he did
not intend...” (Luke 24:13). He practised the utmost dissimulation in
several particulars in the affair of Judas, and carried it even farther
than the traitor. (Read and study Matt. 26: 46-50 and context.)
We might pursue this subject indefinitely. It is enough for our present
purpose to affirm that many of the errors in natural philosophy,
physiology, astronomy, and other sciences that prevailed in that day are
implied or incorporated in the Gospels, with many prevailing
superstitions, and that there are more mistakes and a greater number of
contradictions in the four Gospels than in any other writings of the
same length now extant in any language.
There is no one subject upon which so many books have been written as
what are called “harmonies of the Gospels.” There are now more than one
hundred such books extant, besides thousands that have gone out of
print. Long ago as the seventeenth century Thomas Munn of London
published such a book, on the title-page of which he states that he has
reconciled three thousand contradictions. What does all this imply? Has
it ever been found necessary to so reconcile the writings of Plato,
Socrates, Aristotle, Newton, or Bacon? Could not God make himself
understood? It is an acknowledged fact among juriste that the
discrepancies in the four Gospels would destroy the credibility of any
four witnesses in any intelligent court of law.
We must here express our conviction that the Gospels, which profess to
give the life of Jesus, are not original, genuine productions, and it is
time to show how they came into existence and were palmed off by
ecclesiastics as the productions of those whose names they bear.
About the time of the birth of Christianity almost every system of
philosophy and religion centred at Alexandria in Egypt. The Essenes,
though scattered throughout all the provinces of the Roman empire, had
their head-quarters at Alexandria, where existed a flourishing
university. To this centre of learning seekers after truth from all
countries of the globe found their way, and, comparing their various
systems, the result was the evolution of the Eclectic philosophy, made
up of what was regarded as the best of every known faith.
Palestine and Egypt were geographically contiguous, and the commerce
between them was general and constant through Alexandria. Here the
various sects of Judaism came into direct contact with Greek and
Oriental thought and philosophy, with which they had been made quite
familiar during their captivity in Babylon. Pythagorean, Platonic, and
even Zoroastrian and Buddhistic speculations were rife—were in the very
air of Alexandria. It is notorious that in that city Christian theology
assumed a systematic form. The first and best Christian manuscripts were
Alexandrian, and so were the first bishops; so says Prof. Calvin E.
Stowe.
It is impossible for any party to escape entirely from the influence of
its surroundings. How could a new sect eighteen hundred years ago escape
the influences that dominated the very atmosphere of Alexandria?
Christianity, so called, did not escape this influence, but in a short
time took an eclectic form made up of the then existing systems of faith
and philosophy, so that we now find in it ingredients taken from every
known system of religion and philosophy, including Judaism, Platonism,
Zoroastrianism, and Buddhism.
Mosheim says this Eclectic philosophy, which “chose the good and
rejected the evil out of every system that had been propounded to
mankind,” was taught in the university of Alexandria when Christianity
came into existence. A very interesting question arises in this
connection, which few have paused to ponder—viz. What became of the
sects of the Essenes and Therapeutists after the commencement of the
Christian era? That they suddenly disappeared as sects is an historical
fact. But what became of them? Is there anything more natural than to
assume that they became the pioneers of the Christian Church, and, in
fact, that it was these people to whom the name “Christian” was first
given at Antioch? The entire New-Testament Scriptures are full of
phrases and allusions which clearly show the Essenean admixture, of
which many examples might be quoted. Even Eusebius, styled the “Father
of ecclesiastical history,” without whose writings little or nothing is
known of the early Christian Church, not only admits the close
resemblance between this sect and Christianity, but he even claims that
they were Christians.
A thorough investigation of this matter drives one to the conclusion
that our Catholic Christianity came from Alexandria—virtually from the
Essenean monks who flourished before the Augustan age, and that their
writings are the foundation of our Gospels, re-edited, changed, and
interpolated to suit times and occasions. Catholicism is the undoubted
offshoot of Egyptian monkery, as Protestantism is an offshoot of
Catholicism, and improperly called a _Reformation_. Paul probably became
a sort of Martin Luther, and led the great schism from the Essenean
Church, and it was then from a certain time called Christian. The four
Greek Gospels of our New Testament were made up at Alexandria from
Egyptian asceticism, and consist largely of a union of Neo-Platonism
with Judaism, and is full of the occult and mystical so common in that
period. They were not written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, as can
be _proved_, and he who is called Jesus of Nazareth was nothing more
than an Essenean impersonation. This view is honestly held by the
writer, and did space permit he could give many pertinent reasons for
it. Investigation in this direction would meet a rich reward.
Many pious persons here confront us, and inquire reproachfully, “What is
the use of destroying the faith of the people in the Christian
religion?” This question implies what is not true, as it is farthest
possible from the object of these papers to ridicule or in any way to
bring religion into disrepute. It is not only good principle, but it is
also good policy, to always tell the truth. Why should we say, either
directly or by implication, that Christianity is a supernatural religion
when we know it to be of human origin, and can show just how, and when,
and where it grew out of then existing creeds and systems of philosophy?
Is religion such a sham that it can best be subserved by falsehood and
imposture? We think not. And if we should adopt the Jesuistic maxims,
that “the end justifies the means” and that “pious intent hallows
deceit,” it is simply impossible in this inquisitive scientific age to
keep up a deception, however venerable for age and sacred from
association. Knowledge is on the increase, and the people will not for
ever wear bandages over their eyes, and, thus hoodwinked, swallow
without question whatever is put into their mouths by the dispensers of
theologic twaddle and priestly pap. Regarding Christianity as a special
divine revelation recently made, it will not stand scientific and
historic examination; but regarding it as of human origin, an evolution,
a product of that age of pessimism which resulted from the
disappointment of the Jews as to their national Messiah, and the
disintegration and coming decadence and downfall of the Roman empire,
coupled with the proclamation of the speedy destruction of the world
itself, it is just what might have been expected—a religion of
pessimism, of sorrow, of unworldliness, of evil forebodings.
“When the devil got sick, the devil a monk would be.” When Charles IV.
of Spain was discomfited by the misfortunes of war, he sought solace in
embroidering a petticoat for the Virgin Mary. Rancé had a domestic
tragedy, and he founded the order of Trappist monks. Loyola would never
have founded Jesuitism if he had not first been disfigured and crippled
in a military siege. Dante was an exile when he wrote his _Inferno_, and
John Calvin was a dyspeptic and suffered from rheumatism, gout, and
stone when he wrote his _Institutes_. The most distinguished devotees to
the religion of self-reproach have always been sufferers from headache
and neuralgia, as “crippled foxes decry the vintage,” and grapes are
always sour that are beyond reach.
The germs of Christianity grew out of the decaying carcasses of the
Jewish commonwealth and the Roman empire, and as the worship of sorrow
and unnaturalness it is not promotive of the highest virtue and the best
interests of human society. It is only when the distinctive asceticism
is eliminated and its extreme pessimism is destroyed by a rational
optimism that it becomes a real blessing to humanity.
Every religion reflects the characteristics of the place and time of its
birth, and the gloomy and melancholic temperaments of the dwellers by
the Jordan, the Nile, and the Euphrates thoroughly permeated and
impregnated the sects of those countries.
Regarding Christianity as of human origin, we are at liberty to cast
aside its lugubrious spirit, its impracticable unworldliness and
unnaturalness, and with higher esteem, and a more genuine heartfelt
appreciation, and a sincere acceptance and approval we are free to adopt
and glorify its general humane spirit under the divine impulse of the
universal Fatherhood of God.
The real religious basis is that he serves God best who serves man best,
and the coming of the kingdom of God is concomitant with the coming of
the kingdom of man.
The claim of infallibility is always suspicious, and there is no
finality in religious truth and progress; and it cannot be doubted that
the religion of the nineteenth century is as great an improvement upon
the religion of the first as our civilization, science, commerce, and
the mechanic arts are superior. Prof. Max Müller, of the orthodox
University of Oxford, well says: “The elements and roots of religion
were there as far back as we can trace the history of man, and the
history of religion, like the history of language, shows us throughout a
succession of new combinations of the same radical elements.” In no
system of religion is the principle of combination, of previously
existing forms of creed and conduct, so apparent as in the Christian
religion. It is the best because it is the latest of the great
religions, and contains the best selections and combinations of all
previously existing ones, Jewish and pagan.
Our faith in the sublime moral precepts of Christianity is increased and
strengthened as we realize that they are thousands of years old, that
they are the accumulated products of the ages—an evolution from the
consummated wisdom of all previously existing religionists of all times
and countries. God’s real revelations to man are from within, and they
would not be any more divine if they were from without. Of nothing can
we be so sure as that God will take care of his own eternal truth, and
cause it to shine forth with more radiant splendor as knowledge shall
increase and true science shall learn to read more intelligently the
records of the divine character and will in the infallible book of
nature.
Ecclesiastical tomtits may twitter and flutter, and theological owls may
look solemn and wise and hoot out their gloomy forebodings, but the true
ark of Nature’s covenant is safe.:
“Ever the truth comes uppermost,
And ever is justice done.”
The only safe position, because it is the only true one, is that there
is a God in the universe, and that it is the divine order to make known
his will by slow and uniform processes, and not by sudden and miraculous
revelations.
The principle of evolution is just as true in its application to moral
and spiritual things as it is in regard to the material world, and
another Darwin will some day arise who will demonstrate the fact.
Indeed, this field is “ripe for the harvest,” as several new sciences,
not dreamed of until within a half century past, are revealing facts and
establishing principles which are sure to consign the old
supernaturalism to regions of superstition and priestcraft.