_THE GAIN OF A LOVE OF GODLINESS, AND THE UNGODLINESS OF A LOVE OF
GAIN._
"Wranglings of men corrupted in mind and bereft of the truth,
supposing that godliness is a way of gain. But godliness with
contentment is great gain: for we brought nothing into the world,
for neither can we carry anything out....
"Charge them that are rich in this present world, that they be not
high minded, nor have their hope set on the uncertainty of riches,
but on God, Who gives us richly all things to enjoy; that they do
good, that they be rich in good works, that they be ready to
distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for
themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may
lay hold on the life which is life indeed."--1 TIM. vi. 5-7, 17-19.
It is evident that the subject of avarice is much in the Apostle's mind
during the writing of the last portion of this Epistle. He comes upon it
here in connexion with the teachers of false doctrine, and speaks
strongly on the subject. Then he writes what appears to be a solemn
conclusion to the letter (vv. 11-16). And then, as if he was oppressed
by the danger of large possessions as promoting an avaricious spirit, he
charges Timothy to warn the wealthy against the folly and wickedness of
selfish hoarding. He, as it were, re-opens his letter in order to add
this charge, and then writes a second conclusion. He cannot feel happy
until he has driven home this lesson about the right way of making gain,
and the right way of laying up treasure. It is such a common heresy, and
such a fatal one, to believe that gold is wealth, and that wealth is
the chief good.
"Wranglings of men corrupted in mind and bereft of the truth." That is
how St. Paul describes the "dissidence of dissent," as it was known to
him by grievous experience. There were men who had once been in
possession of a sound mind, whereby to recognize and grasp the truth;
and they had grasped the truth, and for a time retained it. But they had
"given heed to seducing spirits," and had allowed themselves to be
robbed of both these treasures,--not only the truth, but the mental
power of appreciating the truth. And what had they in the place of what
they had lost? Incessant contentions among themselves. Having lost the
truth, they had no longer any centre of agreement. Error is manifold and
its paths are labyrinthine. When two minds desert the truth, there is no
reason why they should remain in harmony any more; and each has a right
to believe that his own substitute for the truth is the only one worth
considering. As proof that their soundness of mind is gone, and that
they are far away from the truth, St. Paul states the fact that they
"suppose that godliness is a way of gain."
It is well known that the scholars whose labours during the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries produced at last the Authorized Version, were
not masters of the force of the Greek article. Its uses had not yet been
analysed in the thorough way in which they have been analysed in the
present century. Perhaps the text before us is the most remarkable among
the numerous errors which are the result of this imperfect knowledge. It
seems so strange that those who perpetrated it were not puzzled by their
own mistake, and that their perplexity did not put them right. What kind
of people could they have been who "supposed that gain was godliness"?
Did such an idea ever before enter into the head of any person? And if
it did, could he have retained it? People have devoted their whole souls
to gain, and have worshipped it as if it were Divine. But no man ever
yet believed, or acted as if he believed, that gain was godliness. To
make money-getting a substitute for religion, in allowing it to become
the one absorbing occupation of mind and body, is one thing: to believe
it to be religion is quite another.
But what St. Paul says of the opinions of these perverted men is exactly
the converse of this: not that they supposed "gain to be godliness," but
that they supposed "godliness to be a means of gain." They considered
godliness, or rather the "form of godliness" which was all that they
really possessed, to be a profitable investment. Christianity to them
was a "profession" in the mercantile sense, and a profession that paid:
and they embarked upon it, just as they would upon any other speculation
which offered equally good hopes of being remunerative.
The Apostle takes up this perverted and mean view of religion, and shows
that in a higher sense it is perfectly true. Just as Caiaphas, while
meaning to express a base and cold-blooded policy of expediency, had
given utterance to a profound truth about Christ, so these false
teachers had got hold of principles which could be formulated so as to
express a profound truth about Christ's religion. There is a very real
sense in which godliness (genuine godliness and not the mere externals
of it) is even in this world a fruitful source of gain. Honesty, so long
as it be not practised merely as a policy, is the best policy.
"Righteousness exalteth a nation": it invariably pays in the long run.
And so "Godliness with contentment is great gain." They _suppose_ that
godliness is a good investment:--in quite a different sense from that
which they have in their minds, it really _is_ so. And the reason of
this is manifest.
It has already been shown that "godliness is profitable for all things."
It makes a man a better master, a better servant, a better citizen, and
both in mind and body a healthier and therefore a stronger man. Above
all it makes him a happier man; for it gives him that which is the
foundation of all happiness in this life, and the foretaste of happiness
in the world to come,--a good conscience. A possession of such value as
this cannot be otherwise than great gain: especially if it be united, as
it probably will be united, with _contentment_. It is in the nature of
the godly man to be content with what God has given him. But godliness
and contentment are not identical; and therefore, in order to make his
meaning quite clear, the Apostle says not merely "godliness," but
"godliness with contentment." Either of these qualities far exceeds in
value the profitable investment which the false teachers saw in the
profession of godliness. They found that it _paid_; that it had a
tendency to advance their worldly interests. But after all even mere
worldly wealth does not consist in the abundance of the things which a
man possesses. That man is well off, who has as much as he wants; and
that man is rich, who has more than he wants. Wealth cannot be measured
by any absolute standard. We cannot name an income to rise above which
is riches, and to fall below which is poverty. Nor is it enough to take
into account the unavoidable calls which are made upon the man's purse,
in order to know whether he is well off or not: we must also know
something of his _desires_. When all legitimate claims have been
discharged, is he satisfied with what remains for his own use? Is he
_contented_? If he is, then he is indeed well-to-do. If he is not, then
the chief element of wealth is still lacking to him.
The Apostle goes on to enforce the truth of the statement that even in
this world godliness with contentment is a most valuable possession, far
superior to a large income; and to urge that, even from the point of
view of earthly prosperity and happiness, those people make a fatal
mistake who devote themselves to the accumulation of wealth, without
placing any check upon their growing and tormenting desires, and without
knowing how to make a good use of the wealth which they are
accumulating. With a view to enforce all this he repeats two well-known
and indisputable propositions: "We brought nothing into the world" and
"We can carry nothing out." As to the words which connect these two
propositions in the original Greek, there seems to be some primitive
error which we cannot now correct with any certainty. We are not sure
whether one proposition is given as a reason for accepting the other,
and, if so, which is premise and which is conclusion. But this is of no
moment. Each statement singly has been abundantly proved by the
experience of mankind, and no one would be likely to dispute either. One
of the earliest books in human literature has them as its opening moral.
"Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return
thither," are Job's words in the day of his utter ruin; and they have
been assented to by millions of hearts ever since.
"We brought nothing into the world." What right then have we to be
discontented with what has since been given to us? "We can take nothing
out." What folly, therefore, to spend all our time in amassing wealth,
which at the time of our departure we shall be obliged to leave behind
us! _There_ is the case against avarice in a nutshell. Never contented.
Never knowing what it is to rest and be thankful. Always nervously
anxious about the preservation of what has been gained, and laboriously
toiling in order to augment it. What a contrast to the godly man, who
has found true independence in a trustful dependence upon the God Whom
he serves! Godliness with contentment is indeed great gain.
There is perhaps no more striking example of the incorrigible perversity
of human nature than the fact that, in spite of all experience to the
contrary, generation after generation continues to look upon mere wealth
as the thing best worth striving after. Century after century we find
men telling us, often with much emphasis and bitterness, that great
possessions are an imposture, that they promise happiness and never give
it. And yet those very men continue to devote their whole energies to
the retention and increase of their possessions: or, if they do not,
they hardly ever succeed in convincing others that happiness is not to
be found in such things. If they could succeed, there would be far more
contented, and therefore far more happy people in the world than can be
found at present. It is chiefly the desire for greater temporal
advantages than we have at present that makes us discontented. We should
be a long way on the road to contentment, if we could thoroughly
convince ourselves that what are commonly called temporal
advantages--such as large possessions, rank, power, honours, and the
like--are on the whole _not_ advantages; that they more often detract
from this world's joys than augment them, while they are always a
serious danger, and sometimes a grievous impediment, in reference to the
joys of the world to come.
What man of wealth and position does not feel day by day the worries and
anxieties and obligations, which his riches and rank impose upon him.
Does he not often wish that he could retire to some cottage and there
live quietly on a few hundreds a year, and sometimes even seriously
think of doing it? But at other times he fancies that his unrest and
disquiet is owing to his not having enough. If he could only have some
thousands a year added to his present income, then he would cease to be
anxious about the future; he could afford to lose some and still have
sufficient. If he could only attain to a higher position in society,
then he would feel secure from detraction or serious downfall; he would
be able to treat with unconcerned neglect the criticisms which are now
such a source of annoyance to him. And in most cases this latter view
prevails. What determines his conduct is not the well-grounded suspicion
that he already has more than is good for him; that it is his abundance
which is destroying his peace of mind; but the baseless conviction that
an increase of the gifts of this world will win for him the happiness
that he has failed to secure. The experience of the past rarely destroys
this fallacy. He knows that his enjoyment of life has not increased with
his fortune. Perhaps he can see clearly that he was a happier man when
he possessed much less. But, nevertheless, he still cherishes the belief
that with a few things more he would be contented, and for those few
things more he continues to slave. There is no man in this world that
has not found out over and over again that success, even the most
complete success, in the attainment of any worldly desire, however
innocent or laudable, does not bring the permanent satisfaction which
was anticipated. Sooner or later the feeling of satiety, and therefore
of disappointment, must set in. And of all the countless thousands who
have had this experience, how few there are that have been able to draw
the right conclusion, and to act upon it!
And when we take into account the difficulties and dangers which a large
increase in the things of this world places in the way of our advance
towards moral and spiritual perfection, we have a still stronger case
against the fallacy that increase of wealth brings an increase in
well-being. The care of the things which we possess takes up thought and
time, which could be far more happily employed on nobler objects; and it
leads us gradually into the practical conviction that these nobler
objects, which have so continually to be neglected in order to make room
for other cares, are really of less importance. It is impossible to go
on ignoring the claims which intellectual and spiritual exercises have
upon our attention without becoming less alive to those claims. We
become, not contented, but self-sufficient in the worst sense. We
acquiesce in the low and narrow aims which a devotion to worldly
advancement has imposed upon us. We habitually act as if there were no
other life but this one; and consequently we cease to take much interest
in the other life beyond the grave; while even as regards the things of
this world our interests become confined to those objects which can
gratify our absorbing desire for financial prosperity.
Nor does the mischief done to our best moral and spiritual interests
end here; especially if we are what the world calls successful. The man
who steadily devotes himself to the advancement of his worldly position,
and who succeeds in a very marked way in raising himself, is likely to
acquire in the process a kind of brutal self-confidence, very
detrimental to his character. He started with nothing, and he now has a
fortune. He was once a shop-boy, and he is now a country gentleman. And
he has done it all by his own shrewdness, energy, and perseverance. The
result is that he makes no account of Providence, and very little of the
far greater merits of less conspicuously successful men. A contempt for
men and things that would have given him a higher view of this life, and
some idea of a better life, is the penalty which he pays for his
disastrous prosperity.
But his case is one of the most hopeless, whose desire for worldly
advantages has settled down into a mere love of money. The worldly man,
whose leading ambition is to rise to a more prominent place in society,
to outshine his neighbours in the appointments of his house and in the
splendour of his entertainments, to be of importance on all public
occasions, and the like, is morally in a far less desperate condition
than the miser. There is no vice more deadening to every noble and
tender feeling than avarice. It is capable of extinguishing all mercy,
all pity, all natural affection. It can make the claims of the suffering
and sorrowful, even when they are combined with those of an old friend,
or a wife, or a child, fall on deaf ears. It can banish from the heart
not only all love, but all shame and self-respect. What does the miser
care for the execrations of outraged society, so long as he can keep his
gold? There is no heartless or mean act, and very often no deed of
fraud or violence, from which he will shrink in order to augment or
preserve his hoards. Assuredly the Apostle is right when he calls the
love of money a "root of all kinds of evil." There is no iniquity to
which it does not form one of the nearest roads. Every criminal who
wants an accomplice can have the avaricious man as his helper, if he
only bids high enough.
And note that, unlike almost every other vice, it never loses its hold:
its deadly grip is never for an instant relaxed. The selfish man can at
a crisis become self-sacrificing, at any rate for a time. The sensualist
has his moments when his nobler nature gets the better of his passions,
and he spares those whom he thought to make his victims. The drunkard
can sometimes be lured by affection or innocent enjoyments to forego the
gratification of his craving. And there are times when even pride, that
watchful and subtle foe, sleeps at its post and suffers humble thoughts
to enter. But the demon avarice never slumbers, and is never off its
guard. When it has once taken full possession of a man's heart, neither
love, nor pity, nor shame, can ever surprise it into an act of
generosity. We all of us have our impulses; and, however little we may
act upon them, we are conscious that some of our impulses are generous.
Some of the worst of us could lay claim to as much as that. But the
miser's nature is poisoned at its very source. Even his impulses are
tainted. Sights and sounds which make other hardened sinners at least
wish to help, if only to relieve their own distress at such pitiful
things, make him instinctively tighten his purse-strings. Gold is his
god; and there is no god who exacts from his worshippers such undivided
and unceasing devotion. Family, friends, country, comfort, health, and
honour must all be sacrificed at its shrine. Certainly the lust for
gold is one of those "foolish and hurtful lusts, such as drown men in
destruction and perdition."
In wealthy Ephesus, with its abundant commerce, the desire to be rich
was a common passion; and St. Paul feared--perhaps he knew--that in the
Church in Ephesus the mischief was present and increasing. Hence this
earnest reiteration of strong warnings against it. Hence the reopening
of the letter in order to tell Timothy to charge the rich not to be
self-confident and arrogant, not to trust in the wealth which may fail
them, but in the God Who cannot do so; and to remind them that the only
way to make riches secure is to give them to God and to His work. The
wealthy heathen in Ephesus were accustomed to deposit their treasures
with "the great goddess Diana," whose temple was both a sanctuary and a
bank. Let Christian merchants deposit theirs with God by being "rich in
good works;" so that, when He called them to Himself, they might receive
their own with usury, and "lay hold on the life which is life indeed."
_THE EPISTLE TO TITUS._