1 Contra Cels., ii. 63. It is curious that, in an earlierchapter, Origen, discussing the question of Celsus,—whetherany one who had been actually dead had ever risen with areal body, says that if Celsus had been a Jew who believedthat Elijah and Elisha had raised little children he couldnot have advanced this objection. Origen adds that he thinksthe reason why Jesus appeared to no other nation but theJews was, that they had become accustomed to miracles, andcould, by comparing the works of Jesus and what was told ofhim with what had been done before, recognize that he wasgreater than all who had preceded him. ii. 57.
Acts, who further represents Paul as immediately preaching publicly in Damascus and confounding the Jews. Widely different is the statement of Paul. He distinctly affirms that he did not communicate with flesh and blood, nor went he up to Jerusalem to them which were Apostles before him, but that he immediately went away into Arabia. The Fathers delighted in representing this journey to Arabia as an instance of Paul's fervour and eagerness to preach the Gospel in lands over which its sound had not yet gone forth. There can be no doubt, however, we think, that Paul's journey to Arabia and his sojourn there were for the purpose of reflection.(1) It is only in legends that instantaneous spiritual revolutions take place. In sober history the process is more slow and progressive. We repeat that there is no evidence which can at all be accepted that Paul's conversion was effected by a vision, and that it is infinitely more probable that it was, so to say, merely completed and crowned by seeing Jesus; but, at the same time, even if the view be held that this vision was the decisive circumstance which induced Paul at once to resign his course of persecution and embrace Christianity, our argument is not materially affected. In any case, much silent, deep, and almost unconscious preparation for the change must long before have proceeded in the mind of Paul, which was finally matured in the Arabian waste. Upon no view that is taken can this be excluded; upon every ground of common sense, experience, and necessary inference, it must be admitted.
Indifference is the only great gulf which separates opinions. There was no stolid barrier of apathy between Saul of Tarsus and belief in the Messiah-ship of Jesus. In persecuting Christianity, Paul proved two things: the earnestness and energy of his convictions, and the fact that his attention was keenly directed to the new sect. Both points contributed to the result we are discussing. Paul's Judaism was no mere formalism. It was the adoption, heart and soul, of the religion of his people; which was to him no dead principle, but a living faith stimulating that eager impetuous character to defend its integrity with "fire and sword." He did not, like so many of his countrymen, turn away with scorn from the followers of the despised Nazarene and leave them to their delusion; but turned to them, on the contrary, with the fierce attraction of the zealot whose own belief is outraged by the misbelief of others. The earnest Jew came into sharp collision with the earnest Christian. The earnestness of each was an element of mutual respect. The endurance and firmness of the one might not melt the bigoted resolution of the other, but it arrested his attention and commanded his unconscious sympathy. Just so would the persecutor have endured and resisted persecution; so, subsequently, he actually did meet it. And what was the main difference between the persecutor and the persecuted? It consisted in that which constituted the burden of the apostolic preaching: the belief that "this was the Christ." The creed of the new sect at least was not complicated. It was little more at that time than a question of identity, until Paul himself developed it into an elaborate system of theology.
In this question of identity, however, there was comprised a vast change of national ideas. To the devout Jew,—looking for the hope of Israel, yearning and praying for the advent of that Son of David who was to sit upon the throne of his fathers, restore the fortunes of the people, drive out the heathen and subdue the nations again to the yoke of Israel, establishing the worship of Jehovah in its purity and turning the Gentiles to the service of the God of Gods,—it was an abhorrent thought that the lowly peasant who had died a shameful death on Golgotha should be represented as the Messiah, the promised King of the Jews. Still there was something sufficiently startling in the idea to excite reflection. A political aspirant, who pretended to play the part, and after some feeble attempt at armed insurrection had been crushed by the heel of the Roman, could not have attracted attention. In that, there would have been no originality to astonish, and no singularity to require explanation. This man, on the contrary, who was said to be the Messiah, assumed no earthly dignity; claimed no kingdom in this world; had not even a place to lay his head; but ended a short and unambitious career as the teacher of a simple but profound system of morality by death on a cross. There was no vulgar imitation here. This was the reverse of the Messiah of the Jews. In spite of so much dissimilarity, however, there was in the two parties a fundamental agreement of belief. The Jew expected the Messiah; the Christian believed he had now come. The Messiah expected by the Jew was certainly a very different Saviour from the despised and rejected Jesus of Nazareth, but at the root of the
Christian faith lay belief in a Messiah. It was a thoroughly Jewish belief, springing out of the covenant with the fathers, and based upon the Law and the Prophets. The difference was not one of principle but one of details. Their interpretation of the promises was strangely dissimilar, but the trust of both was in the God of Israel. To pass from one to the other did not involve the adoption of a new religion, but merely a modification of the views of the old. Once convinced that the Messiah was not a political ruler but a spiritual guide, not a victorious leader, but a suffering servant of Jehovah, the transition from judaic hopes to recognition of Jesus was almost accomplished.
It is clear that Paul in his capacity of Persecutor must have become well acquainted with the views of the Christians, and probably must have heard them repeatedly expounded by his captives before the Jewish Sanhedrin.1 He must have heard the victims of his blind religious zeal affirming their faith with all that ecstatic assurance which springs out of persecution. The vision of Peter contributed to the vision of Paul. There can be no doubt that Paul must have become aware of the application to Jesus of Old Testament prophecies, and of the new conception thence derived of a suffering Messiah. The political horizon was certainly not suggestive of the coming of the Lord's Anointed. Never had the fortunes of Israel been at a lower ebb. The hope of a Prince of the house of David to restore dominion to the fallen race was hard to entertain. The suggestion of an alternative theory based upon a new interpretation of the prophets, if startling, was not untimely, when the old confidence
was becoming faint in many minds, and the hope of his coming seemed so distant and unsure. If we do not misjudge the character of Paul, however shocked he may have been at first by the substitution of a crucified Nazarene for the triumphant Messiah of his earlier visions, there must have been something profoundly pleasing to his mind in the conception of a spiritual Messiah. As he became familiar with the idea, it is probable that flashes of doubt must have crossed his mind as to the correctness of his more material views. If the belief were true, which Christians professed, that this Jesus, despised and rejected of men, was actually the suffering servant of Jehovah, and this servant of Jehovah the Messiah! If the claim of this Jesus who had been esteemed smitten of God and afflicted, had been verified by his rising again from the dead and ascending to the right hand of God! This aspect of the Messianic idea had a mystery and significance congenial to the soul of Paul. The supernatural elements could have presented no difficulties to him. Belief in the Resurrection was part of his creed as a Pharisee. That the risen Messiah should have been seen by many, the fundamental idea once admitted, could not surprise the visionary Jew. We can well imagine the conflict which went on in the ardent mind of Paul when doubts first entered it; his resistance and struggle for the faith of his youth; the pursuance as duty of the course he had begun, whilst the former conviction no longer strengthened the feverish energy; the excitement of religious zeal in the mad course of persecution, not to be arrested in a moment, but become, by growing doubt, bitterness and pain to him; the suffering
inflicted sending its pang into his own flesh. There was ample preparation in such a situation for the vision of Paul.
The constitution and temperament of the Apostle were eminently calculated to receive impressions of the strongest description.(1) We have mentioned the conjecture of many able men that his "stake in the flesh" was a form of epilepsy. It is, of course, but a conjecture, though one which has great probability,(2) and we must not treat it otherwise; but, if it could be proved correct, much light would be thrown upon Paul's visions. We have discussed the Apostle's statements regarding the supernatural Charismata in the Church, and have seen his extreme readiness to believe in the lavish bestowal of miraculous gifts where others could recognise but ordinary qualities. That Paul should be able to claim the power of speaking with tongues more than all the Corinthians, whose exercise of that spiritual gift he so unceremoniously restrains, is in perfect keeping with all that we elsewhere learn about him. Everywhere we find the keenly impressionable nature so apt to fall into the ecstatic state when brought under the influence of active religious emotion. "I must glory," he exclaims with irresistible impulse on coming to a theme so congenial to him, "I must glory; it is not indeed expedient, but I will come to visions and revelations of the Lord."(3) Even when he speaks of the stake in his flesh, which he does in such suggestive connection with his visions, he describes it as sent lest he should "be exalted above measure by the
excess of the revelations."(1) We have so repeatedly had to refer to Paul's claim to have received his Gospel by special revelation that we need not again speak of it here. If we could quote Acts as a genuine representation of Christian tradition regarding Paul, we might point out the visions and revelations therein so freely ascribed to him, but his own writings are amply sufficient for our purpose. Even his second journey to Jerusalem is attributed to the direction of revelation.(2)
The only vision regarding which the Apostle gives any particulars is that referred to, 2 Cor. xii. 2: "I know a man in Christ above fourteen years ago (whether in the body I know not, whether out of the body I know not, God knoweth), such an one caught up even unto the third heaven. 3. And I know such a man (whether in the body or out of the body I know not, God knoweth), 4. that he was caught up into paradise and heard unspeakable words which it is not lawful for a man to utter. 5. For such an one will I boast," etc.(3) It has been argued from this passage and the repetition of the expression "whether in the body or out of the body I know not," that Paul himself could clearly distinguish objective facts from subjective impressions.(4) No interpretation could well be more erroneous. It is evident that Paul has no doubt whatever of his having been in the third heaven and in Paradise, and as little of
his having heard the unspeakable words. That is quite objectively real to him. His only doubt is whether the body was caught up with his soul upon this occasion.(1) No one who has carefully considered such phenomena and examined the statements here made can have any doubt as to the nature of this vision. The conception of being caught up into "the third heaven," "into Paradise," and there hearing these "unspeakable words which it is not lawful for a man to utter," betrays in no doubtful manner the source of the subjective impressions. Of course, divines who are prepared to see in this passage the account of an actual objective event will not consider it evidence that Paul had subjective visions which he believed to have been objective facts; but to those who, more rightly and reasonably, we think, recognize the subjective character of the vision, it must at once definitely settle the point that Paul could mistake subjective impressions for objective realities, and consequently the argument for the similar subjectivity of the vision of Jesus becomes complete. The possibility of such a mistake is precisely what apologists question. Here is an instance in which the mistake has clearly been made by Paul.
The Apostle's own statements show him to have been superlatively visionary and impressionable, with restless nervous energy it is true, but, at the same time, with keen physical and mental susceptibility. Liable to be uplifted by "the excess of revelations," glorying in "visions and revelations of the Lord," possessing ecstatic
powers more than all others, subjecting his very movements, his visits to Jerusalem, to the direction of impulses which he supposed to be revelations: there has never been a case in which both temperament and religious belief more thoroughly combined to ascribe, with perfect conviction, objective reality to subjective impressions connected with divine things then occupying his mind.
Paul moreover lived in a time when the Messianic longing of the Jews led them to be profoundly interested students of the later apocalyptic writings, which certainly made a deep impression upon the Apostle, and in which he must have been struck by the image of the promised Messiah, like the Son of Man, coming on the clouds of heaven (Dan. vii. 13, cf. 1 Cor. xv. 47).(1) At no time was such a vision more likely to present itself to him, than when his mind was fixed upon the Messianic idea with all the intensity of one who had been persecuting those who asserted that the Messiah had already come. Here was reason for all that concentration of thought upon the subject which produces such visions: and when doubt and hesitation entered into that eager intense spirit, the conflict must have been sharp and the nerves highly strung. The Jesus whom he saw with his mind's eye was the climax of conviction in such a nature; and the vision vividly brought to him his own self-reproachful thoughts for cruelly mistaken zeal, and the remorse of noble souls which bounds to reparation. He devoted himself as eagerly to Christianity, as he had previously done to Judaism. He changed the contents but not the form of his mind.(2) Paul the
Christian was the same man as Paul the Jew; and in abandoning the conception of a Messiah "according to the flesh," and placing his whole faith in one "according to the spirit," he displayed the same characteristics as before. The revolution in his mind, of which so much is said, was merely one affecting the Messianic idea. He did not at a bound become the complete Apostle of the Gentiles, but accepting at first nothing more than belief in a Messiah according to the spirit, his comprehensive and peculiar system of theology was, "of course, only the result of subsequent reflection. That his conviction should have been completed by a subjective vision is no more strange than that he should believe in supernatural Charismata, miraculous speaking with tongues, and being actually caught up into the third heaven, into Paradise, and hearing there unutterable words which it is not lawful for a man to utter. Paul evidently never questioned the source of his visions. They were simply accepted as divine revelations, and they excited all the less of misgiving in his soul from the fact that, without doubt, they expressed the expected solution of problems which intensely occupied his mind, and reflected conclusions already practically formed by his own thoughts.(1)
There remain two points to be briefly considered.
The first of these is the assertion, constantly made in various shapes, that the cardinal miracles of the Resurrection and Ascension were proclaimed as unquestionable facts, without contradiction, at a time when such an assertion might have been easily refuted. The production of the body, the still occupied sepulchre, it is said, would have set such pretensions at rest It is unnecessary to say that the proclamation of the Resurrection and Ascension as facts proved nothing beyond the belief, perhaps, of those who asserted them. So far as Paul is concerned, we may seek in vain for any assertion of a bodily Ascension. But there is not the slightest evidence to show when the Resurrection and Ascension were first publicly proclaimed as unquestionable facts. Even the Gospels do not state that they were mentioned beyond the circle of disciples. The second Synoptist, who does not state that Jesus himself was seen by any one, makes the curious affirmation at the close of his Gospel as we have it, that the women, on receiving the announcement of the Resurrection from the angels, and the command for the disciples and Peter to go into Galilee, "went out and fled from the sepulchre; for trembling and astonishment seized them, and they said nothing to any one; for they were afraid."(1) In the fourth Gospel, although the "beloved disciple" went into the sepulchre, "and he saw and believed," it is related of him and Peter: "So the disciples went away again unto their own home."(2) The Eleven, in fact, who all forsook their Master and fled—who are represented as meeting with closed doors "for fear of the Jews"—with closed doors after eight days, it is again said, although, a week before, ten of them are said to have seen Jesus—were not likely to expose
themselves to the fate of Jesus by rushing into the highways and asserting the Resurrection. Beyond the statement of the Gospels, the value of which we have seen, and a statement accompanied by so many confused circumstances, there is no evidence whatever that the sepulchre was found empty. There is no evidence that the sepulchre was really known to the disciples, none of whom, probably, was present at the crucifixion; and it might well be inferred that the women, who are represented as ignorant that the body had already been embalmed, yet who are the chief supposed witnesses for the empty sepulchre and the informants of the disciples, were equally ignorant of the sepulchre in which the body was laid. We might ask whether the 500 brethren who are said to have seen Jesus at the same time came from Galilee, or wherever they were, and examined the state of the sepulchre? We have already said, however, that if the sepulchre had been shown to be empty, the very last thing which could be proved by that circumstance would be the correctness of the assertion that it had become so in consequence of a stupendous miracle. On the other hand, if it had been shown that it was occupied by a body, it is exceedingly doubtful whether the fact would have convinced any one not previously sure that Jesus could not have risen from the dead, and he would not have required such evidence. When the Resurrection was publicly proclaimed as a fact, the body could no longer have been recognizable, and the idea that any of those in authority could have thought such demonstration necessary to refute a story whispered about amongst an obscure sect in Jerusalem, or even more courageously asserted, is a product of later times. When Jesus of Nazareth, the head of the nascent sect, was suppressed
by a shameful death, his humble and timid followers were obviously for a time despised; and there is little reason to suppose that the chief priests and rulers of the Jews would have condescended to any public contradiction of their affirmations, if they had even felt indifference to the defilement of exposing for such a purpose a decaying body to the gaze of Jerusalem. This kind of refutation is possible only in the imagination of divines. Besides, what evidence is there that even a single indifferent person found the sepulchre empty? There is not an iota of proof.
On the contrary, there is the very strongest evidence that when the assertion of the Resurrection and Ascension as "unquestionable facts" was made, it was contradicted in the only practical and practicable way conceivable: (1.) by all but universal disbelief in Jerusalem; (2.) by actual persecution of those who asserted it. It is a perfectly undeniable fact that the great mass of the Jews totally denied the truth of the statement by disbelieving it, and that the converts to Christianity who soon swelled the numbers of the Church and spread its influence amongst the nations were not the citizens of Jerusalem, who were capable of refuting such assertions, but strangers and Gentiles. The number of the community of Jerusalem after the forty days seems to be stated by the author of Acts as "about 120," and although the numbers added to the Church, according to this document, are evidently fabulous, the converts at Pentecost are apparently chiefly from amongst the devout men of every nation upon earth congregated at Jerusalem. To this hour the Jews have retained as their inheritance the denial by their forefathers of the asserted facts. The assertion, secondly, was emphatically denied by the persecution, as soon as it
became worth any one's while to persecute, of those who made it. It was in this way denied by Paul himself, at a time when verification was infinitely more possible than when he came to join in the assertion. Are we to suppose that the Apostle took no trouble to convince himself of the facts before he began to persecute? He was in the confidence of the high priests it seems, can he ever have heard the slightest doubt from them on the subject? Is it not palpable that Paul and his party, by their very pursuit of those who maintained such allegations, stigmatized them as falsehoods, and perhaps as imposture? If it be said that Paul became convinced of his mistake, it is perfectly obvious that his conversion was not due to local and circumstantial evidence, but to dogmatic considerations and his supposed vision of Jesus. He disbelieved when the alleged occurrences were recent and, as it is said, capable of refutation; he believed when the time for such refutation had passed.
The second point to which we have referred is the vague and final objection of apologists that, if the vision of Jesus was merely subjective, the fabric of the Church and even of Christianity is based upon unreality and self-deception. Is this possible? they ask. Is it possible that for eighteen centuries the Resurrection and Ascension have been proclaimed and believed by millions, with no other original foundation than self-delusion? The vagueness and apparent vastness of this objection, perhaps, make it a formidableargumentum ad hominem, but it vanishes into very small proportions as we approach it. Must we then understand that the dogmas of all religions which have been established must have been objective truths? and that this is a necessary inference from their wide adoption? If so, then all
historical religions before Christianity, and after it, must take rank as substantially true. In that case the religion of the Veda, of Buddha, of Zoroaster, of Mahomet, for instance, can as little be based on unreality and self-deception as Christianity. They have secured wide acceptance from mankind. Millions have for centuries devoutly held their tenets, and to this day the followers of Sakya Muni are as numerous as the believers in the religion of Paul. If not, the objection at once falls to the ground as an argument, and the problem becomes a simple matter of evidence, which has been fully discussed and disposed of.
When we analyse the fact, it becomes apparent that, ultimately, belief in the Resurrection and Ascension resolves itself into the belief of a few or of one. It requires very little reflection to perceive that the Christian Church is founded much more upon belief in the Resurrection than on the fact itself.(1) Nothing is more undeniable than the circumstance that not more than a very small number of men are even alleged to have seen the risen Jesus. The mass of those who have believed in the Resurrection have done so because of the assurance of these few men, and perhaps because they may have been led to think that the event was predicted in Scripture. Up to this day, converts to the dogma are made, if made at all, upon the assurance of Paul and the Gospels. The vast question at last dwindles down to the inquiry: Can a few men, can one man, draw erroneous inferences and be honestly deceived by something supposed to have been seen? We presume that there can be no hesitation in giving an affirmative reply. The rest follows as a matter of
course. Others simply believe the report of those who have believed before them. In course of time, so many believe that it is considered almost outrageous to disbelieve or demand evidence. The number of those who have believed is viewed at last as an overwhelming proof of the truth of the creed.
It is a most striking and extraordinary fact that the life and teaching of Jesus have scarcely a place in the system of Paul. Had we been dependent upon him we should have had no idea of the Great Master who preached the Sermon on the Mount, and embodied pure truths in parables of such luminous simplicity. His noble morality would have remained unknown, and his lessons of rare spiritual excellence have been lost to the world. Paul sees no significance in that life, but concentrates all interest in the death and resurrection of his Messiah. In the sepulchre hewn out of the rock are deposited the teaching and example of Jesus, and from it there rises a mystic Christ lost in a halo of theology. The ecclesiastical Christianity which was mainly Paul's work has almost effaced the true work of Jesus. Too little can now be traced of that teaching, and few are the genuine records of his work which have survived the pious enthusiasm evoked by his character. Theology has done its worst with the life; and that death, which will ever be the darkest blot upon history, has been represented as the climax of divine beneficence. The Resurrection and Ascension have deified Jesus of Nazareth; but they have done so at the expense of all that was most truly sublime in his work.
The world will gain when it recognises the real character and source of such dogmas, and resigns this inheritance from the Age of Miracles. For, although we lose a faith which has long been our guide in the past, we need not now fear to walk boldly with Truth in the future, and turning away from fancied benefits to be derived from the virtue of his death, we may find real help and guidance from more earnest contemplation of the life and teaching of Jesus.
We have seen that Divine Revelation could only be necessary or conceivable for the purpose of communicating to us something which we could not otherwise discover, and that the truth of communications which are essentially beyond and undiscoverable by reason cannot be attested in any other way than by miraculous signs distinguishing them as divine. It is admitted that no other testimony could justify our believing the specific Revelation which we are considering, the very substance of which is supernatural and beyond the criticism of reason, and that its doctrines, if not proved to be miraculous truths, must inevitably be pronounced "the wildest delusions." "By no rational being could a just and benevolent life be accepted as proof of such astonishing announcements."
On examining the alleged miraculous evidence for Christianity as Divine Revelation, however, we find that even if the actual occurrence of the supposed miracles could be substantiated, their value as evidence would be destroyed by the necessary admission that miracles are not limited to one source and are not exclusively associated with truth, but are performed by various spiritual Beings, Satanic as well as Divine, and are not always evidential, but are sometimes to be regarded as delusive and for the trial of faith. As the doctrines supposed to be revealed
are beyond Reason, and cannot in any sense be intelligently approved by the human intellect, no evidence which is of so doubtful and inconclusive a nature could sufficiently attest them. This alone would disqualify the Christian miracles for the duty which miracles alone are capable of performing.
The supposed miraculous evidence for the Divine Revelation, moreover, is not only without any special divine character, being avowedly common also to Satanic agency, but it is not original either in conception or details. Similar miracles are reported long antecedently to the first promulgation of Christianity, and continued to be performed for centuries after it. A stream of miraculous pretension, in fact, has flowed through all human history, deep and broad as it has passed through the darker ages, but dwindling down to a thread as it has entered days of enlightenment. The evidence was too hackneyed and commonplace to make any impression upon those before whom the Christian miracles are said to have been performed, and it altogether failed to convince the people to whom the Revelation was primarily addressed. The selection of such evidence for such a purpose is much more characteristic of human weakness than of divine power.
The true character of miracles is at once betrayed by the fact that their supposed occurrence has thus been confined to ages of ignorance and superstition, and that they are absolutely unknown in any time or place where science has provided witnesses fitted to appreciate and ascertain the nature of such exhibitions of supernatural power. There is not the slightest evidence that any attempt was made to investigate the supposed miraculous occurrences, or to justify the inferences so freely drawn from them, nor is there any reason to
believe that the witnesses possessed, in any considerable degree, the fulness of knowledge and sobriety of judgment requisite for the purpose. No miracle has yet established its claim to the rank even of apparent reality, and all such phenomena must remain in the dim region of imagination. The test applied to the largest class of miracles, connected with demoniacal possession, discloses the falsity of all miraculous pretension.
There is no uncertainty as to the origin of belief in supernatural interference with nature. The assertion that spurious miracles have sprung up round a few instances of genuine miraculous power has not a single valid argument to support it. History clearly demonstrates that, wherever ignorance and superstition have prevailed, every obscure occurrence has been attributed to supernatural agency, and it is freely acknowledged that, under their influence, inexplicable and miraculous are convertible terms. On the other hand, in proportion as knowledge of natural laws has increased, the theory of supernatural interference with the order of nature has been dispelled, and miracles have ceased. The effect of science, however, is not limited to the present and future, but its action is equally retrospective, and phenomena which were once ignorantly isolated from the sequence of natural cause and effect, are now restored to their place in the unbroken order. Ignorance and superstition created miracles; knowledge has for ever annihilated them.
To justify miracles, two assumptions are made: first, an Infinite Personal God; and second, a Divine design of Revelation, the execution of which necessarily involves supernatural action. Miracles, it is argued, are not contrary to nature, or effects produced without adequate
causes, but on the contrary are caused by the intervention of this Infinite Personal God for the purpose of attesting and carrying out the Divine design. Neither of the assumptions, however, can be reasonably maintained. The assumption of an Infinite Personal God: a Being at once limited and unlimited, is a use of language to which no mode of human thought can possibly attach itself. Moreover, the assumption of a God working miracles is emphatically excluded by universal experience of the order of nature. The allegation of a specific Divine cause of miracles is further inadequate from the fact that the power of working miracles is avowedly not limited to a Personal God, but is also ascribed to other spiritual Beings, and it must, consequently, always be impossible to prove that the supposed miraculous phenomena originate with one and not with another. On the other hand, the assumption of a Divine design of Revelation is not suggested by antecedent probability, but is derived from the very Revelation which it is intended to justify, as is likewise the assumption of a Personal God, and both are equally vicious as arguments. The circumstances which are supposed to require this Divine design, and the details of the scheme, are absolutely incredible, and opposed to all the results of science. Nature does not countenance any theory of the original perfection and subsequent degradation of the human race, and the supposition of a frustrated original plan of creation, and of later impotent endeavours to correct it, is as inconsistent with Divine omnipotence and wisdom as the proposed punishment of the human race and the mode devised to save some of them are opposed to justice and morality. Such assumptions are essentially inadmissible, and totally fail to explain and justify miracles.
Whatever definition be given of miracles, such exceptional phenomena must at least be antecedently incredible. In the absence of absolute knowledge, human belief must be guided by the balance of evidence, and it is obvious that the evidence for the uniformity of the order of nature, which is derived from universal experience, must be enormously greater than can be the testimony for my alleged exception to it. On the other hand, universal experience prepares us to consider mistakes of the senses, imperfect observation and erroneous inference as not only possible, but eminently probable on the part of the witnesses of phenomena, even when they are perfectly honest and truthful, and more especially so when such disturbing causes as religious excitement and superstition are present. When the report of the original witnesses only reaches us indirectly and through the medium of tradition, the probability of error is further increased. Thus the allegation of miracles is discredited, both positively by the invariability of the order of nature, and negatively by the fallibility of human observation and testimony. The history of miraculous pretension in the world, and the circumstances attending the special exhibition of it which we are examining, suggest natural explanations of the reported facts which wholly remove them from the region of the supernatural.
When we proceed to examine the direct witnesses for the Christian miracles, we do not discover any exceptional circumstances neutralizing the preceding considerations. On the contrary, we find that the case turns not upon miracles substantially before us, but upon the mere narratives of miracles said to have occurred over eighteen hundred years ago. It is obvious that, for such narratives to possess any real force and validity, it is essential that
their character and authorship should be placed beyond all doubt. They must proceed from eye-witnesses capable of estimating aright the nature of the phenomena. Our four Gospels, however, are strictly anonymous works. The superscriptions which now distinguish them are undeniably of later origin than the works themselves, and do not proceed from the composers of the Gospels. Of the writers to whom these narratives are traditionally ascribed only two are even said to have been apostles, the alleged authors of the second and third Synoptics neither having been personal followers of Jesus, nor eyewitnesses of the events they describe. Under these circumstances, we are wholly dependent upon external evidence for information regarding the authorship and trustworthiness of the four canonical Gospels.
In examining this evidence, we proceeded upon clear and definite principles. Without forming or adopting any theory whatever as to the date or origin of our Gospels, we simply searched the writings of the Fathers, during a century and a half after the events in question, for information regarding the composition and character of these works, and even for any certain traces of their use, although, if discovered, these could prove little beyond the mere existence of the Gospels used at the date of the writer. In the latter and minor investigation, we were guided by canons of criticism previously laid down, and which are based upon the simplest laws of evidence. We found that the writings of the Fathers, during a century and a half after the death of Jesus, are a complete blank so far as any evidence regarding the composition and character of our Gospels is concerned, unless we except the tradition preserved by Papias, after the middle of the second century, the details of which fully justify
the conclusion that our first and second Synoptics, in their present form, cannot be the works said to have been composed by Matthew and Mark. There is thus no evidence whatever directly connecting any of the canonical Gospels with the writers to whom they are popularly attributed, and later tradition, of little or no value in itself, is separated by a long interval of profound silence from the epoch at which they are supposed to have been composed. With one exception, moreover, we found that, during the same century and a half, there is no certain and unmistakable trace even of the anonymous use of any of our Gospels in the early Church. This fact, of course, does not justify the conclusion that none of these Gospels was actually in existence during any part of that time, nor have we anywhere suggested such an inference, but strict examination of the evidence shows that there is no positive proof that they were. The exception to which we refer is Marcion's Gospel, which was, we think, based upon our third Synoptic, and consequently must be accepted as evidence of the existence of that work. Marcion, however, does not give the slightest information as to the authorship of the Gospel, and his charges against it of adulteration cannot be considered very favourable testimony as to its infallible character. The canonical Gospels continue to the end anonymous documents of no evidential value for miracles. They do not themselves pretend to be inspired histories, and they cannot escape from the ordinary rules of criticism. Internal evidence does not modify the inferences from external testimony. Apart from continual minor contradictions throughout the first three Gospels, it is impossible to reconcile the representations of the Synoptics with those of the fourth Gospel. They mutually destroy each other as evidence. They must
be pronounced mere narratives compiled long after the events recorded, by unknown persons who were neither eye-witnesses of the alleged miraculous occurrences, nor hearers of the statements they profess to report. They cannot be accepted as adequate testimony for miracles and the reality of Divine Revelation.
Applying similar tests to the Acts of the Apostles, we arrived at similar results. Acknowledged to be composed by the same author who produced the third Synoptic, that author's identity is not thereby made more clear. There is no evidence of the slightest value regarding its character, but, on the other hand, the work itself teems to such an extent with miraculous incidents and supernatural agency, that the credibility of the narrative requires an extraordinary amount of attestation to secure for it any serious consideration. When the statements of the author are compared with the emphatic declarations of the Apostle Paul, and with authentic accounts of the development of the early Christian Church, it becomes evident that the Acts of the Apostles, as might have been supposed, is a legendary composition of a later day, which cannot be regarded as sober and credible history, and rather discredits than tends to establish the reality of the miracles with which its pages so suspiciously abound.
The remaining books of the New Testament Canon required no separate examination, because, even if genuine, they contain no additional testimony to the reality of Divine Revelation, beyond the implied belief in such doctrines as the Incarnation and Resurrection. It is unquestionable, we suppose, that in some form or other the Apostles believed in these miracles, and the assumption that they did so, supersedes the necessity for
examining the authenticity of the Catholic Epistles and Apocalypse. In like manner, the recognition as genuine of four Epistles of Paul, which contain his testimony to miracles, renders it superfluous to discuss the authenticity of the other letters attributed to him.
The general belief in miraculous power and its possession by the Church is brought to a practical test in the case of the Apostle Paul. After elaborate consideration of his letters, we came to the unhesitating conclusion that, instead of establishing the reality of miracles, the unconscious testimony of Paul clearly demonstrates the facility with which erroneous inferences convert the most natural phenomena into supernatural occurrences.
As a final test, we carefully examined the whole of the evidence for the cardinal dogmas of Christianity, the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus. First taking the four Gospels, we found that their accounts of these events are not only full of legendary matter, but that they even contradict and exclude each other, and so far from establishing the reality of such stupendous miracles, they show that no reliance is to be placed on the statements of the unknown authors. Taking next the testimony of Paul, which is more important as at least authentic and proceeding from an Apostle of whom we know more than of any other of the early missionaries of Christianity, we saw that it was indefinite and utterly insufficient. His so-called "circumstantial account of the testimony upon which the belief in the Resurrection rested" consists merely of vague and undetailed hearsay, differing, so far as it can be compared, from the statements in the Gospels, and without other attestation than the bare fact that it is repeated by Paul, who doubtless believed it, although he had not himself been a witness
of any of the supposed appearances of the risen Jesus which he so briefly catalogues. Paul's own personal testimony to the Resurrection is limited to a vision of Jesus, of which we have no authentic details, seen many years after the alleged miracle. Considering the peculiar and highly nervous temperament of Paul, of which he himself supplies abundant evidence, there can be no hesitation in deciding that this vision was purely subjective, as were likewise, in all probability, the appearances to the excited disciples of Jesus. The testimony of Paul himself, before his imagination was stimulated to ecstatic fervour by the beauty of a spiritualized religion, was an earnest denial of the great Christian dogma emphasized by the active persecution of those who affirmed it, and a vision, especially in the case of one so constituted, supposed to be seen many years after the fact of the Resurrection had ceased to be capable of verification, is not an argument of convincing force. We were compelled to pronounce the evidence for the Resurrection and Ascension absolutely and hopelessly inadequate to prove the reality of such stupendous miracles, which must consequently be unhesitatingly rejected. There is no reason given, or even conceivable, why allegations such as these, and dogmas affecting the religion and even the salvation of the human race, should be accepted upon evidence which would be declared totally insufficient in the case of any common question of property or title before a legal tribunal On the contrary, the more momentous the point to be established, the more complete must be the proof required.
If we test the results at which we have arrived by general considerations, we find them everywhere confirmed and established. There is nothing original in the
claim of Christianity to be regarded as Divine Revelation, and nothing new either in the doctrines said to have been revealed, or in the miracles by which it is alleged to have been distinguished. There has not been a single historical religion largely held amongst men which has not pretended to be divinely revealed, and the written books of which have not been represented as directly inspired. There is not a doctrine, sacrament or rite of Christianity which has not substantially formed part of earlier religions; and not a single phase of the supernatural history of the Christ, from his miraculous conception, birth and incarnation to his death, resurrection and ascension, which has not had its counterpart in earlier mythologies. Heaven and hell, with characteristic variation of details, have held an important place in the eschatology of many creeds and races. The same may be said even of the moral teaching of Christianity, the elevated precepts of which, although in a less perfect and connected form, had already suggested themselves to many noble minds and been promulgated by ancient sages and philosophers. That this Inquiry into the reality of Divine Revelation has been limited to the claim of Christianity has arisen solely from a desire to condense it within reasonable bounds, and confine it to the only Religion in connection with which it could practically interest us now.
There is nothing in the history and achievements of Christianity which can be considered characteristic of a Religion divinely revealed for the salvation of mankind. Originally said to have been communicated to a single nation, specially selected as the peculiar people of God, and for whom distinguished privileges were said to be reserved, it was almost unanimously rejected by that
nation at the time, and it has continued to be repudiated by its descendants with singular unanimity to the present day. After more than eighteen centuries, this Divine scheme of salvation has not obtained even the nominal adhesion of more than a third of the human race,(1) and if, in a census of Christendom, distinction could now be made of those who no longer seriously believe in it as Supernatural Religion, Christianity would take a much lower numerical position. Sakya Muni, a teacher only second in nobility of character to Jesus, and who, like him, proclaimed a system of elevated morality, has even now almost twice the number of followers, although his missionaries never sought converts in the West. Considered as a scheme Divinely devised as the best, if not only, mode of redeeming the human race, and saving them from eternal damnation, promulgated by God himself incarnate in human form, and completed by his own actual death upon the cross for the sins of the world, such results as these can only be regarded as practical
failure, although they may not be disproportionate for a system of elevated morality.
We shall probably never be able to determine how far the great Teacher may through his own speculations or misunderstood spiritual utterances have suggested the supernatural doctrines subsequently attributed to him, and by which his whole history and system soon became transformed; but no one who attentively studies the subject can fail to be struck by the absence of such dogmas from the earlier records of his teaching. It is to the excited veneration of the followers of Jesus, however, that we owe most of the supernatural elements so characteristic of the age and people. We may look in vain even in the synoptic Gospels for the doctrines elaborated in the Pauline Epistles and the Gospel of Ephesus. The great transformation of Christianity was effected by men who had never seen Jesus, and who were only acquainted with his teaching after it had become transmuted by tradition. The fervid imagination of the East constructed Christian theology. It is not difficult to follow the development of the creeds of the Church, and it is certainly most instructive to observe the progressive boldness with which its dogmas were expanded by pious enthusiasm. The New Testament alone represents several stages of dogmatic evolution. Before his first followers had passed away the process of transformation had commenced. The disciples, who had so often misunderstood the teaching of Jesus during his life, piously distorted it after his death. His simple lessons of meekness and humility were soon forgotten. With lamentable rapidity, the elaborate structure of ecclesiastical Christianity, following stereotyped lines of human superstition, and deeply coloured by Alexandrian
philosophy, displaced the sublime morality of Jesus. Doctrinal controversy, which commenced amongst the very Apostles, has ever since divided the unity of the Christian body. The perverted ingenuity of successive generations of churchmen has filled the world with theological quibbles, which have naturally enough culminated of late in doctrines of Immaculate Conception, and Papal Infallibility.
It is sometimes affirmed, however, that those who proclaim such conclusions not only wantonly destroy the dearest hopes of humanity, but remove the only solid basis of morality; and it is alleged that, before existing belief is disturbed, the iconoclast is bound to provide a substitute for the shattered idol. To this we may reply that speech or silence does not alter the reality of things. The recognition of Truth cannot be made dependent on consequences, or be trammelled by considerations of spurious expediency. Its declaration in a serious and suitable manner to those who are capable of judging can never be premature. Its suppression cannot be effectual, and is only a humiliating compromise with conscious imposture. In so far as morality is concerned, belief in a system of future rewards and punishments, although of an intensely degraded character, may, to a certain extent, have promoted observance of the letter of the law in darker ages and even in our own, but it may, we think, be shown that education and civilization have done infinitely more to enforce its spirit. How far Christianity has promoted education and civilization, we shall not here venture adequately to discuss. We may emphatically assert, however, that whatever beneficial effect Christianity has produced has been due, not to its supernatural dogmas, but to its simple morality. Dogmatic Theology,
on the contrary, has retarded education and impeded science. Wherever it has been dominant civilization has stood still. Science has been judged and suppressed by the light of a text or a chapter of Genesis. Almost every great advance which has been made towards enlightenment has been achieved in spite of the protest or the anathema of the Church. Submissive ignorance, absolute or comparative, has been tacitly fostered as the most desirable condition of the popular mind. "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven," has been the favourite text of Doctors of Divinity with a stock of incredible dogmas difficult of assimilation by the virile mind. Even now, the fiction of theological resistance is a constant waste of intellectual power. The early enunciation of so pure a system of morality, and one so intelligible to the simple as well as profound to the wise, was of great value to the world, but experience being once systematized and codified, if higher principles do not constrain us, society may safely be left to see morals sufficiently observed. It is true that, notwithstanding its fluctuating rules, morality has hitherto assumed the character of a Divine institution, but its sway has not, in consequence, been more real than it must be as the simple result of human wisdom, and the outcome of social experience. The choice of a noble life is no longer a theological question, and ecclesiastical patents of truth and uprightness have finally expired. Morality, which has ever changed its complexion and modified its injunctions according to social requirements, will necessarily be enforced as part of human evolution, and is not dependent on religious terrorism or superstitious persuasion. If we are disposed to say:
Cui bono?and only practise morality, or be ruled by right principles, to gain a heaven or escape a hell, there is nothing lost, for such grudging and calculated morality is merely a spurious imitation which can as well be produced by social compulsion. But if we have ever been really penetrated by the pure spirit of morality, if we have in any degree attained that elevation of mind which instinctively turns to the true and noble and shrinks from the baser level of thought and action, we shall feel no need of the stimulus of a system of rewards and punishments in a future state which has for so long been represented as essential to Christianity.
As to the other reproach, let us ask what has actually been destroyed by such an inquiry pressed to its logical conclusion. Can Truth by any means be made less true? Can reality be melted into thin air? The Revelation not being a reality, that which has been destroyed is only an illusion, and that which is left is the Truth. Losing belief in it and its contents, we have lost absolutely nothing but that which the traveller loses when the mirage, which has displayed cool waters and green shades before him, melts swiftly away. There were no cool fountains really there to allay his thirst, no flowery meadows for his wearied limbs; his pleasure was delusion, and the wilderness is blank. Rather the mirage with its pleasant illusion, is the human cry, than the desert with its barrenness. Not so, is the friendly warning; seek not vainly in the desert that which is not there, but turn rather to other horizons, and to surer hopes. Do not waste life clinging to ecclesiastical dogmas which represent no eternal verities, but search elsewhere for truth which may haply be found. What should we think of the man who persistently repulsed
the persuasion that two and two make four from the ardent desire to believe that two and two make five? Whose fault is it that two and two do make four and not five? Whose folly is it that it should be more agreeable to think that two and two make five than to know that they only make four? This folly is theirs who represent the value of life as dependent on the reality of special illusions, which they have religiously adopted. To discover that a former belief is unfounded is to change nothing of the realities of existence. The sun will descend as it passes the meridian whether we believe it to be noon or not. It is idle and foolish, if human, to repine because the truth is not precisely what we thought it, and at least we shall not change reality by childishly clinging to a dream.
The argument so often employed by theologians that Divine Revelation is necessary for man, and that certain views contained in that Revelation are required by our moral consciousness, is purely imaginary and derived from the Revelation which it seeks to maintain. The only thing absolutely necessary for man is Truth; and to that, and that alone, must our moral consciousness adapt itself. Reason and experience forbid the expectation that we can acquire any knowledge otherwise than through natural channels. We might as well expect to be supernaturally nourished as supernaturally informed. To complain that we do not know all that we desire to know is foolish and unreasonable. It is tantamount to complaining that the mind of man is not differently constituted. To attain the full altitude of the Knowable, whatever that may be, should be our earnest aim, and more than this is not for humanity. We may be certain that information which is beyond the ultimate
reach of Reason is as unnecessary as it is inaccessible. Man may know all that man requires to know.
We gain more than we lose by awaking to find that our Theology is human invention and our eschatology an unhealthy dream. We are freed from the incubus of base Hebrew mythology, and from doctrines of Divine government which outrage morality and set cruelty and injustice in the place of holiness. If we have to abandon cherished anthropomorphic visions of future Blessedness, the details of which are either of unseizable dimness or of questionable joy, we are at least delivered from quibbling discussions of the meaning of [———], and our eternal hope is unclouded by the doubt whether mankind is to be tortured in hell for ever and a day, or for a day without the ever. At the end of life there may be no definite vista of a Heaven glowing with the light of apocalyptic imagination, but neither will there be the unutterable horror of a Purgatory or a Hell lurid with flames for the helpless victims of an unjust but omnipotent Creator. To entertain such libellous representations at all as part of the contents of "Divine Revelation," it was necessary to assert that man was incompetent to judge of the ways of the God of Revelation, and must not suppose him endowed with the perfection of human conceptions of justice and mercy, but submit to call wrong right and right wrong at the foot of an almighty Despot. But now the reproach of such reasoning is shaken from our shoulders, and returns to the Jewish superstition from which it sprang.
As myths lose their might and their influence when discovered to be baseless, the power of supernatural Christianity will doubtless pass away, but the effect of the revolution must not be exaggerated, although it
cannot here be fully discussed. If the pictures which have filled for so long the horizon of the Future must vanish, no hideous blank can rightly be maintained in their place. We should clearly distinguish between what we know and know not, but as carefully abstain from characterising that which we know not as if it were really known to us. That mysterious Unknown or Unknowable is no cruel darkness, but simply an impenetrable distance into which we are impotent to glance, but which excludes no legitimate speculation and forbids no reasonable hope.