* Exodus ii, 15.
My forehead throbs as I quote these forbidden texts, and my pulse rises. But I have the consolation that the book is not true, that the wild stories it tells about Jews and Christians had no basis in history. If I could only get the devout Jews and Christians to realize this!
HOWEVER imperfect the teachings of others in the Old and New Testament might be, it is urged that Jesus himself is the one infallible revelation of God, and that even if everything else is lost, nothing is really lost so long as Jesus abides. This is the remaining consolation of the apologists of the bible. No reasons are given as to why, in an inspired book, there should be only one person who is really inspired. Nor do these "new theologians" stop to think that such an admission is equivalent to a plea of guilty—for if no one but Jesus in the bible is to be trusted, then Jesus can not be trusted either. In plain words Jesus tells his hearers that they must believe in him, because Moses and the prophets testify of him. Repeatedly Jesus expressed his unquestioning belief in the Old Testament. He had come not to destroy the law of Moses, but to fulfil it. And he expressly told them, that there was no necessity for any one to come down from heaven to teach the people, for "if they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." * But if "Moses and the prophets" are not to be depended upon, what becomes of Jesus' testimony of them? Jesus says "Moses and the prophets were of God," the "new theologians" say they were not. In the meantime, the same "new theologians" say that Jesus knew what he was talking about.
But the "new theologians," who have nearly thrown overboard everything else, still cling, or pretend to cling, so ardently to Jesus as a moral teacher, because of the supposed beauty of the Sermon on the Mount, and the other teachings of Jesus. This is not the first time that the present writer makes the Sermon on the Mount a subject for comment. ** There are many fine passages in the collection of utterances attributed to Jesus, but we have the same objection against the moral teachings of Jesus that we have against the moral teachings of Moses and the prophets. The best in Jesus' sermons are to be found in the Old Testament, and there is enough of the worst in the Old Testament in the sayings attributed to Jesus to make his teachings unfit, in the main, for universal uses.
* Luke xvi, 31.** Consult the author's Is the Morality of Jesus Sound.
On one theme all parts of the bible are in perfect unison—God comes before man. To us this is the negation of morality. "Blessed are the pure in heart," preaches Jesus; and why are the pure blessed? "Because," is the answer, "they shall see God." There is not a word said about the social worth of personal and public purity of heart. Not a word that to be pure is to bless the world in which one lives, or that by being pure we help to make life on earth sweeter and more lovable. The idea that to be pure in thought and conduct is the way to serve humanity, and make this earth a heaven, does not occur to Jesus at all. He is not interested either in humanity or in this earth. His eyes are fixed upon the mists beyond. His one thought is of the invisible God, not of man who is made of flesh and blood.
And when the "purity" required is examined, it will be found that, in consonance with the Old Testament, purity of belief is what is meant by it. The thief on the cross would see God, not because he was pure in heart, but because he believed before he died. In the same way the other virtues are recommended, not for their civic values, not as the means of social well-being and blessedness, but as auxiliaries to piety, namely, to the worship of God.
That Jesus had no message to man is seen in his attempt to shift the center of gravity, so to speak, from this world to the next. He would take away from man the world in the hand, for the one hidden away in the clouds. "Blessed are ye that hunger now," cries Jesus to the starving multitude, "for ye shall be filled." * Butwhen?It reads very much like the vague and airy promises which a politician makes to his constituents when he is bidding for votes. "Give us breadnow," cry the poor. Can the famished eat a promise for bread? But Jesus was not interested in helping them "now." He had come to reveal God and his glory, not to make the world a happy home for man. He prayed for and predicted the speedy destruction of the world; why, then, should he labor for its betterment? And in his "next world" is there really going to be no more poverty? Let us read what Jesus says:
Blessed are ye that hunger now: for ye shall be filled.... Woe unto you that are full! for ye shall hunger.**
* Luke vi, 21.** Luke vi, 21-25.
In the dim, distant day those who hunger now will have all that they can eat, but those who now are filled will starve. What then is the advantage of that future day over the now? Instead of doing away with hunger, it is to be shifted on to another set of people. There will be just as much poverty in the beautiful future Jesus predicts, as there is to-day, only the people who are poor here, will be rich there, and the rich now, will be the poor then. Is there any inspiration in such a prospect? Is it not like clinging to a straw, to expect help from such haphazard utterances as these? What a serious world desires to know is not how to "beat around the bush," but how to remedy real evils. By taking the bread from one man and giving it to another, we neither add to the quantity of food, nor diminish the stress of poverty. Yet that is precisely the solution Jesus proposes with such a flourish of trumpets. Is it any wonder that people do not care for his heaven, or that humanity has turned away from Jesus to look for help elsewhere? Again Jesus says:
Blessed are ye that weep now, for ye shall laugh.... Woe unto you that laugh now! for ye shall mourn and weep.*
* Luke vi, 21-25.
Is it not fantastic? Jesus seems to believe that to laughnowis a crime; and yet he holds it up as a future reward to those who weep now. There is an oriental saying that the food which each one that comes into the world needs, is set apart for him by Allah; he may eat it all at once, and starve the rest of his life, or use it moderately, and have enough to last him all the days of his life. Likewise, Jesus appears to be of the belief that there is just so much happiness set apart for man; he can take it in this world, and go tohadesin the next; or he can make this world a place of mourning, and go to heaven in the next. Therefore, "Woe to those who want their heaven here, for they shall be tormented forever after, and blessed are those who mourn and weep here, for they shall laugh in the hereafter." Is this sense?
According to Jesus, as long as a man is weeping and mourning he is "blessed," but as soon as he begins to laugh, then "woe" unto him. In the same way, a man is "blessed" as long as he is hungry, but the moment he is "filled" Jesus turns upon him with a "woe unto you." Who could fail to draw the conclusion from such teaching that to help people to be happy now, is to expose them to the "woe unto you" of God, and to help people out of poverty now, is to bring upon their heads the curse of the future; and that, therefore, we should let the poor be the poor, and the rich, the rich—leaving it to the unknown future to settle all accounts. Such a teacher deserves to have only the unthinking for his disciples.
One Sunday in June, about three years ago, I went to hear the Rev. Dr. Aked, of the Fifth Avenue Baptist Church, in New York city. For his scripture lesson he read the parable of the "Wheat and the Tares." * This is about a farmer who sows good seed in his field. But while he was asleep, his enemies came and sowed tares among the wheat. As the blades sprang up "and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares also." The farm-hands, when they saw this, asked the owner for permission to destroy the tares. "Nay," replied the master, "lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up also the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest: and in the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them: but gather the wheat into my barn."
* Matthew xiii, 24-30.
What edification is there in such a story? To bring a church full of people together—tired, busy, perplexed, hungering for ideas, for truth, for beauty—only to tell them that the tares must not be touched or separated even from the wheat until some day in the future, some judgment day in the clouds, when the Lord of the harvest shall gather up the tares to be burned, and the wheat to be deposited in his chests! Could anything be more destructive of human endeavor and hope than this shifting of all responsibility upon God and the future? If the parable has any meaning, it is this: Let every field become rank with weeds, and let nothing be done to destroy the weedsnow—the future will take care of that. Thefutureis the one great asset of the priest. "Wait until you die," is his answer to every challenge to show present results.
The weeds injure the wheat during the time that the crop is growing, and not after it is ready to be harvested. What is gained by burning up the tares when they can no longer hurt the wheat and after they have done all the harm they could to the grain by stealing sun and moisture from them? Besides, there is just as much danger of gathering up the wheat with the tares at harvest time as there is of rooting up the wheat with the tares while they are growing together. Why postpone the purging process? Why let a child, for example, grow up to be a criminal to be hanged, if there is a way of saving him from evil associations earlier in life? What farmer or educator will follow the advice of Jesus, to let the bad and the good alone until judgment day?
Suppose, instead of such an unprofitable story, with its impracticable lesson, and its suggestion oflaissez faire, the preacher had read the page from Ralph Waldo Emerson, which contains a grander passage than is to be found in the whole bible, "My freedom is part of my faith"; or suppose he had read to his audience the page from Thomas Paine in which occurs that thrilling and musical pæan, "Where liberty is not, there is my country"—and why? Not to wait until some distant day, but to bring about and share with them now, and here, the blessings of liberty; or suppose the preacher had greeted his hearers with the words of Goethe, "In the whole, the good, the true, the beautiful, resolve to live." Would he not have read to them from a better bible?
But the gem in the Sermon on the Mount is supposed to be the, "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." * This advice is supplemented with the "Love your enemies," which is claimed to be the noblest utterance in all religious literature. The philosophy underlying these commandments is the same which we found in the parable of the "Wheat and the Tares." Even as the tares are to be allowed to have their way in a wheat field, evil is not to be resisted in the world of men, but let alone. It is not the business of man, according to Jesus, to effect reforms; he must leave it all to God. In his own time, and in his own way, God will fill the hungry and punish the rich; he will burn the tares and save the wheat; and he will reward the good and destroy the evil.
* Matthew v, 39.
This Asiatic fatalism is quite consistent with the belief in an all-wise and powerful being at the head of affairs. If God were not almighty, we might assist him in his work; or if he were not all-wise, we might enlighten him on some things, but being almighty, and all-wise, he does not wish any meddling on our part. Besides, if we resist evil, or weed the tares, or fight poverty and misery, we might think that it is our efforts which have made the world better. But that is taboo. Really, Jesus is quite right; there is no room for human effort where an infinite being is doing things. The plea that God wants us to help him, because if we neglect to do our part, neither will he do his, is nonsensical. An attitude of passivity is alone becoming to a believer. To bestir oneself about the tares, or the evil in the world, is to show that one has lost faith in the Lord of the harvest. "Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord," is the word of inspiration.
And could anything be more pessimistic than "Resist not evil?" If not the evil, what then shall man resist? Nothing? But he will fall into decay unless he resists the forces that menace his well being. And why was man made a moral agent or created in the "divine" image if he is to let the powers of darkness have their way, instead of girding himself for battle against them? But the decline of man is desired because that is the only way the world may come to an end, and God and his heaven ushered in. Such is the philosophy of Jesus.
If God does not wish us to "resist evil," pray what is the devil's pleasure? We have been told that the devil always wants us to do the things which God has forbidden. Does he, then, want us to resist evil? Not to resist the agencies of evil, is not to resist the devil, if there is such a being; and not to resist the devil is to surrender to him, which is just what he would want us to do.
The Sermon on the Mount, if complied with, would lead the world to animpasse. We must not resist the Holy Spirit, according to Jesus, and, according to the same teacher, we must not resist evil either. But unless the Holy Spirit and evil are the same, how can we be as hospitable or as passive toward the one as toward the other? We must stand still and let God work in us his purposes, says the bible, and, according to the same book, we are to be equally passive to the operations of the Evil One. Is such advice intelligible? Could anything be more confusing and bewildering to the moral sense than so contradictory a commandment? If the gospel writers had put in Jesus' mouth the words, "I am the darkness of the world," they would not have been very far wrong.
Why resist not evil? If evil is evil, and if we have power to resist it, why may we not do so? What is morality but the exercise of the power of resistance against evil? The idea that by resisting evil we become evil ourselves, as Tolstoi maintains, is as much a conundrum as the text itself. Did not Jesus resist the devil in the wilderness? Did he not drive the evil spirits out of his patients? Did he not denounce the scribes and Pharisees who would not accept his Messiaship? And did he not scourge the money-changers out of the temple court, and overturn their tables by sheer physical force? Why did he resist evil himself? And did such resistance degrade him?
In all probability, the reason we are warned against resisting evil is that evil is one of the agencies God works by, and, therefore, to resist it is to rebel against God. But not to resist evil is to do evil. "If any man," says Jesus, in this famous sermon, "will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also." * But there need be no law courts, even, to go to, if we will only notify the robbers in advance that they may have all they can lay their hands on. Why not strip ourselves for the benefit of the oppressor and thereby save him also from the trouble of suing us for anything? Is the above advice given for the benefit of the honest man or the robber? Surely the latter will not object to being given more than he sought to steal. And why should an honest man labor to possess anything, since he must permit the thief and the brigand to enjoy all the fruits of his own economy and thrift? By what process of ratiocination does Jesus arrive at the conclusion that the man of fraud and violence should not only not be denied any demand he may make upon us, but that he should have more, nay all we have earned and saved. Is not this nihilism?
* Matthew v, 40.
No extraordinary intelligence is needed to see what would happen to the state that decided to live up to the teachings of Christ. Every precaution to protect our homes and families would be condemned as unchristian. Instead of throwing the burglar out, or arousing the police to pursue and arrest him, we must thank him for giving us an opportunity to practice the rare "virtue" of giving also the other coat, as well as of turning also the other cheek to him. If the brigand strikes us once, we must encourage him for a second blow; if he has killed but one member of the family, he must be pampered into further indulgence in his bloody pastime. Is this the Christian religion? Surely it is not the religion of common sense. But Jesus does not seem to reflect upon the consequences to the robbers themselves of this policy of non-resistance, and of giving freely to him that would borrow of us. In order to be able to take or borrow of one's neighbor, that neighbor must have something. But to encourage the having of things, the possessor of things must be protected. Jesus, by taking away this protection, endangers the creation of wealth of any kind. What is the robber or the beggar to take when there is nothing to take? And there will be nothing to take when the industrious are sacrificed to the lazy and the vicious. Jesus strikes at the roots of civilization by his doctrine of "let alone." And that is really what he is after. Wealth, culture, liberty, help to make us fonder of this world than of the next, fonder of things than of God! And that, a jealous religion will not tolerate.
We are aware of the many ingenious explanations proposed to retain the Sermon on the Mount in the creeds, though it is diligently excluded from life. Praise the Sermon on the Mount, but do not practice it, seems to express the attitude of the church. Jesus is not supposed to have really meant what he said about "turning the other cheek," or allowing the oppressor his way. What he was trying to say, argue the commentators, was that we should be patient under provocation, not given to seeking vengeance; and that we should be generous to the indigent and the unfortunate. That was what Jesus wanted to say, according to defenders of the bible; but instead of saying that, he said something so totally different that a large army of commentators is kept busy trying to excuse and explain what he really said.
The world needs a teacherwho can say what he means, and mean what he says. If his commentators can make themselves understood why could not Jesus? Besides, it is not right to be patient with wrong, or generous to the oppressor. Shakespeare's thought was very much more wholesome when he said that kindness to the guilty is injustice to the honest.
Instead of these nihilistic or pessimistic utterances, which no self-respecting nation will translate into daily life, suppose Jesus had said, "Not to resist crime is also a crime." Suppose he had said, "If ever evil, or darkness, or poverty, is to be conquered, it will be by the efforts of man only." But Jesus was trying to put man to sleep, not to provoke him into action against the enemies of his progress. Compare the three simple but puissant commandments of Volney, the author of "The Ruins," to the whimsical ethics of the Sermon on the Mount:
I.—Preserve thyself!
This is the first task to which man must apply his head and hands. He must preserve himself. A thousand things conspire against his life. He is beset by dangers and temptations. Under every stone lurks a menace to his well being. He must compel a place for himself in nature, and be able to hold it against all rivals.
II.—Instruct thyself!
Mark the positiveness of both commandments. By being active, not by passivity, will man succeed, both in self-preservation and self-instruction. Once we are confident of our standing in nature, and reasonably sure of our daily bread, it is our high privilege to start on the quest for knowledge. "Instruct thyself!" Knowledge is the all-conquering weapon. Know thyself, thy fellows, thy world. The sun is the light of the body; knowledge is the light of the mind.
III.—Moderate thyself!
Having conquered the means which assure self-preservation, and having through much labor acquired science—the intellectual sun which turns man's night into day—the next virtue, the practice of which alone can enable man to enjoy the life he has learned to preserves, and the arts and pleasures he has created through knowledge, is to put a wholesome check upon his appetites by exercising moderation. Not until a man can moderate himself does he really become a moral, that is to say, a superior, being—a conqueror who can hold his possessions. In one of his romances, Voltaire makes the first man ask his Maker what he must do to get the most beauty and joy out of life. The answer to this question is also Voltaire's: "Practice Moderation."
How simple are all the commandments of Reason compared with the contradictions of Revelation! There is not one word of Reason ever spoken which has lost either its authority or beauty, while it is admitted by the believers themselves that more than half of the divine Revelation has become obsolete. To the question, "Why do not men obey the ordinances and commandments in the Old Testament?" the answer of the churches is, "The times have changed," or, "They were meant only for the Jews." Revelations grow old and expire. Reason, like the sun, rises daily to give unto each day its daily light. If Rationalists ever succeed in building a Hall of Reason, the two commandments which they will inscribe over its entrance will never need revision:
1.Speak according to knowledge.
2.Act according to conscience.
JESUS is supposed to be the vein of gold in the bible. As already intimated, if the whole book is of God, it is difficult to see why certain portions of it should be more or less godly than others. Among the parables of Jesus, that of the "Prodigal Son" is said to be one of the most inspiring. It is the story of a young man who borrows in advance his portion of his father's wealth, while the latter is still living, and leaves home. After wasting his inheritance by riotous living, he finds himself face to face with starvation. The worst thing happens to him that might happen to a pious Jew—he is compelled to take care of a herd of swine, and to eat of their food. In this condition, he remembers that his father is still rich, with plenty of servants, and food for everybody. He decides to go back to him, just as he is, and to throw himself upon his mercy. It never occurs to him to try and make for himself a good reputation before he returns to his father, or to earn back the wealth he has squandered by a life of debauchery. Why should he? It is not his father's respect he wants, but his forgiveness. His foolish father does just as the prodigal expected; he gives him a royal welcome. A ring is slipped on his finger, the richest robe is thrown over his shoulders, and the fatted calf is killed for him.
Nobody will claim that the good-for-nothing son deserved all these honors. Indeed, it is quite plainly insinuated that he is honored for being a repentant sinner, unlike his elder brother, who had no need of repentance, because he remained at home and did his duty. To eat the "fatted calf," it is necessary to be a great sinner, suing for mercy. For the honest, who have no need to cry for forgiveness, there are no banquets. This is shown by the treatment accorded the other son, who had not asked for his portion of the inheritance, and had not wasted his years and money in self-indulgence, who had not deserted his aged father, but stood at his side in the home and the vineyard, doing also the work of the younger brother who had run away from home. No favors are conferred upon him, no feast is given in his honor, and strangest of all, he is not even invited to the party. It is by accident that he finds out about the costly banquet at which his prodigal brother was being entertained, while he himself was toiling in the fields. Who ate the fatted calf? Not the man who raised it, but the man who had lost all claim upon the fruits of his brother's or father's toil. Is this the way to encourage virtue? Rob the honest son who has not shirked labor—who has been faithful, devoted and frugal—to feast the prodigal, who has already consumed one fortune and is now begging for another?Begging, I say, for the idea of earning one is very disagreeable to prodigals. As long as there is a "father" who is willing to treat his prodigal son better than the worthy son, prodigals will not be wanting in the world.
And this is the gem of the collection over which we are supposed to go into ecstasies!
But we must read between the lines; the purpose of Jesus, or whoever was the author of the parable, was to show that the greater the sinner, greater still is the welcome that awaits him. And this welcome is not to be deserved, or earned through merit; it is given as a favor. God, whom the father in the parable typifies, cares little for character. People must not flatter themselves that they are saved because they deserve it. Look at the worthy elder son who had done his duty: he was not invited to the feast. Look at the prodigal son, who had descended to the level of the swine; he was "dined and wined." Now we understand why the malefactor on the cross was saved, and all his crimes wiped out in the twinkling of an eye. Had he been a better man than he was, or had he been innocent of the crimes for which he was crucified, there would have been no chance for him. Nor does Jesus say a word about the subsequent conduct of the forgiven prodigal? Did he make amends for the harm he had done to others by his selfishness? Was he really a changed character after he wasfeted?Not a word. The promise Jesus holds out to the sinner is not reform, but forgiveness.
Let us take another parable: A very rich farmer, or landlord, goes out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. He hired some very early in the day; others about the noon hour, and others again as late as "the eleventh hour," that is to say, just an hour before the close of day. When the laborers came to receive their pay for the day's work, the landlord paid the man who had put in a full day just as much as he paid those who had only worked for one short hour. Naturally, the men who had borne the brunt of the hot day, and had done most of the work, complained. To which the lord of the vineyard made this reply: "Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good?" * And turning to his disciples, Jesus said: "So the last shall be first, and the first last; for many be called, but few chosen." ** The full meaning of which is that an employer's or the Lord's whim is law.
* Matthew xx, 15.** Matthew xx, 16.
What man of affairs can derive any benefit from such a parable? But the object of Jesus, in this, as in the former parable, is to show the independence of God of what we would call the moral law. God is not bound by any considerations of justice. He is an oriental who showers favors or withholds them just as his pleasure dictates. And whatever he gives is afavor, and not a debt which he must pay because of any merit on the part of anybody. If wages are to be distributed according to the quality and quantity of the work done, then what is there left for God to do?
To Jesus, God was something like a Turkish sultan of the olden days who exalted his barber to the rank of a grand vizier, and humbled the vizier to the level of a keeper of his stables, all in one night, to show that his pleasure is above any consideration of justice and character. But this is not morality; this is caprice. To pay the man who has worked only for one hour as much as the man who has worked all day long, is to rob the latter of his dues. The Asiatics may submit to it, but the American or European laborer will not. Because he is the sultan, or because he is God, is no excuse for such eccentricity. No; you are not at liberty to pay as you please, or to make contracts which sacrifice justice to whim.
In the parable of Lazarus and Dives, the fondness of the bible for the worthless, the fallen, the good for nothing, so to speak, becomes all the more evident. At the door of a rich man sits a miserable beggar. He is not only poor, but also diseased. Like many an orientalfakir, he is covered with sores, which by their stench attract the hungry dogs to his person. There he sits all day long—a menace to the public health, and an object of disgust. When this beggar dies, he is carried by angels straight to Abraham's bosom; It is, of course, a pity he had to remain on earth so long before entering Paradise. But what had he done to deserve so great a reward? We might as well ask what the prodigal son had done to deserve the "fatted calf," or the "eleventh-hour laborer" to deserve a full day's wages.
Nor is it true that Lazarus was saved for the inner beauty of his character. As I have shown elsewhere, * by refusing a few drops of water to cool the parched tongue of the man who had given him of the crumbs of his table on earth, Lazarus proved himself to be as small of soul as he was leprous of body. But the point of the parable is to show that a man is saved, not because he deserves salvation, but because God takes a fancy to him. And the more unworthy the subject, the better it illustrates that it is whim, and not justice, that presides over the destinies of man. We may plead with justice; against whim we are helpless. It is the sense of this helplessness of man in the hands of a whimsical God that makes Christianity so pessimistic. Of course, for the "elect" favor and whim are better than law and justice; and for the mediocre and the sinner, it is a good thing that merit or character does not count for anything before God. But what about those who have no other "pull" than their own self-respect and honor? And the dogma of total depravity has been invented to relieve the duty of being just to any one, since all mankind deserves to be damned.
* Is the Morality of Jesus Sound.
The same indifference to reason is shown in the next parable: A certain slave owed his king the enormous sum of ten thousand talents. In round numbers a talent is worth one thousand dollars. Accordingly this slave was indebted to his royal master for the sum of ten million dollars. Aslaveowing more money than any one king ever owned in Jesus' day! How he incurred this impossible debt is not explained. But the king pressed the slave for payment. Whereupon the slave fell at his sovereign's feet and begged for mercy. As expected, the king, with a wave of his hand, makes the slave a present of the ten million dollars which he owes, thereby canceling the entire indebtedness. Does this not remind us of the parable of the prodigal son? Even as he was forgiven the waste and debauchery which had disgraced him, this slave is quickly freed from his obligation. The motive in making the debt a fabulous one was to emphasize the generosity of the sovereign. This brings us to the conclusion already announced, that great sinners are preferred to little ones, because they help to show more directly that it is not character or personal merit that saves, or even helps a man with God, but pure patronage on the part of the deity. Salvation is a favor. That is the burden of the parables of Jesus.
The slave, however, fails to be as generous toward his debtors as his lord was to him. Instead of canceling their obligations as his own had been, he cast them into prison. When the king heard of this he summoned the slave into his presence, and said to him: "O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst me. Should not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow servant, even as I had pity on thee?" * In other words, debtors should be allowed to keep what they have borrowed for the mere asking. The whole tenor of the parable is antisocial. To follow such teaching is to head toward bankruptcy. There will be no lenders, if there are to be no collections. Once more Jesus sacrifices the worthy members of society to the spendthrifts and the prodigals. The man who can lend is the real benefactor, not the borrower; but Jesus is interested in saving the latter, and in such a way as to ruin the former. But the shortsightedness of this policy, as already pointed out, is seen in its effects upon the creator and conserver of wealth—he will stop saving, and then what is the borrower going to do? Jesus' advice practically amounts to this: "Allow your debtors to defraud you." But the process will kill the debtor as well as the lender.
If Jesus really wanted to encourage mendicancy, and to make this earth a paradise for the beggar, he could not have served his purpose better than by such a parable, or by the advice to "Give to him that ask-eth thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away." ** The beggar could not wish for a stronger endorsement of his profession. Everything belongs to the beggar, and he is to have what he wants, not for any work he may do in return, but because he wants it.
* Matthew xviii, 32-33.** Matthew v, 42.
In the Lord's Prayer, one of the petitions reads: "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors," which really means, "We have allowed our neighbors to impose upon us; you must allow us, Lord, to impose upon you." Jesus could have found a hundred other ways of recommending compassion for the weak and the unfortunate, if that were really what he was aiming at. But his purpose was to show that the borrower, the beggar, the prodigal, the good-for-nothing, are the favored children of God. It is not the strong, the self-reliant, the industrious, the successful, whom God has chosen for his kingdom, but "the foolish of this world." And why? The question has already been answered: to show that it is not merit or character that saves, but the grace of God. By saving the worthless, God gets all the glory; while if he saved the strong and the virtuous, it might be said that it was their character which helped to save them. "My name is Jealous," * saith the Lord.
* Exodus xxxiv, 14.
But Jesus does not forget to speak a good word also for the robber. Indeed the beggar and the robber belong to the same profession. And if anything, the robber's is the more respectable calling. He does not whine and weep and, cant as the beggar does, to get his neighbor's goods; he takes it by force, or craft, which is better than pious prating. The robber risks his life, shows skill and daring, and is not so prosaic, or at all sanctimonious, like the beggar. But, in the final analysis, they are partners in business. They are both agreed that their rich neighbors must not object to part with their possessions on demand. If Jesus had the beggar in his mind when he commanded, "Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn thou not away," he had the welfare of the highway robber in mind when he commanded: "If any man take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also." In the parable of the Good Samaritan, which, from our point of view, comes nearest to being the most innocent and harmless among the parables, while Jesus deservedly lauds the humanity of the Samaritan toward his fellow man, who had fallen among thieves, there is not a word said in condemnation of the robber. A splendid opportunity to denounce the lax conditions which made life and property insecure, which encouraged plunder and murder along the highways of travel and commerce, was overlooked by Jesus. He fails to call upon the authorities to take measures to prevent the repetition of such crimes as he has been describing. He does not call upon the officers of the law to pursue and catch the thief, and mete out to him the punishment he deserves. Nothing of this. He praises the pity, the compassion of the Samaritan, which praise was well deserved, but a man has not done his best when he has helped a victim of the robbers to a dinner and a bed—he must protect future travelers from such outrages by assisting in the arrest and prompt punishment of the criminal. But Jesus is not interested in reforming robbers, or converting beggars into productive citizens. In fact, one reading between the lines can not avoid the conclusion that Jesus would let the robbers alone, inasmuch as they give the good Samaritan a chance to practice piety and to show compassion. The beggar and the robber you always have with you, Jesus seems to say, for how can men be kind and forgiving without them?
In conclusion, the lesson of the parables, to an unprejudiced mind, is this: the more worthless and degraded a man, the more loaded down with debts, the more dangerous he is to his fellows, the more suitable he will be to prove that God saves whom he wishes, independent of the question of merit, and that "the righteousness of man is as filthy rags." * A more opprobrious phrase could not have been used to express utter contempt for human virtues. According to the Gospel, "the whores and harlots," as well as beggars and robbers, ** "shall enter the kingdom of God," "before the righteous, or the wise of this world." *** But upon what grounds?
* Isaiah lxiv, 6.** "Jesus saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That thepublicans and the harlots go into the Kingdom of God beforeyou."—Matthew xxi, 31.*** For God hath chosen the foolish things of the world toconfound the wise.'—I Corinthians i, 27. Paul also statesthat the way to be wise is by becoming a fool: "... let himbecome a fool, that he may be wise."—I Corinthians iii, 18.
"It is my whim."
IAM not able to say what makes a book "holy," but I would like to give my idea of a good book. No book deserves to be called good or great which does not grapple with the problems of life in such an open and disinterested way as to challenge the most unsparing tests which may be applied to its conclusions, or to the methods by which it has arrived at them. The book that objects to or fears criticism, or is injured by it, is certainly not a great book. Even as gold outlives the fire, a great book must outlive criticism.
The works of such men as Copernicus and La Place, and of Galileo and Herschel, who opened up for us the heavens, are truly great, for the reason that not only do they not plead for protection against criticism, but they resist all the strain that the freest and boldest criticism can bring to bear upon them. The same is true of the works of Darwin, Haeckel, Herbert Spencer, who need neither the sword of the king nor the curse of the priest to prove their conclusions true. And men like Shakespeare, who have circumnavigated the human intellect, and sailed around the globe of beauty and truth, may justly be proud of their work, because criticism can no more hurt them than fire the gold. Can the bible stand the test which proves greatness? To answer this question we have only to observe how vehemently the bible objects to criticism: "He that believeth not shall be damned," and "Blessed are they who have not seen and yet have believed"—that is to say, who believe blindly. And the defenders of the bible have, alas! committed every conceivable crime in their effort to prevent criticism of the bible. Does this prove the greatness of the bible?
Let us make a brief comparison between the Book of God and some of the books of man. Suppose we wished to teach the splendid truth of the solidarity of the human race—the oneness of mankind—is there anything, either in the New or the Old Testament, which in breadth or beauty approaches the thoughts of the pagan philosophers on this subject?
I am a citizen of the world.—Socrates.
Nature ordains that a man should wish the good of every man, whoever he may be, and for this very reason—that he is a man.—Cicero.
Did any Jew, or Christian, ever say anything like that?
I was not born for one corner; my country is this whole world.—Seneca.
And it was not a slave, but a citizen of the proudest empire the world ever saw, who thus opens his sympathies to embrace the whole of the human family. Where is the bible prophet, or apostle, who could transcend creed and country with the sameelan?
The much admired Republic of Zeno aimed simply at this, that neither in cities nor towns we should live under distinct laws, one from another, but should look on all men as our fellow countrymen and citizens... like a flock feeding together with equal rights in a common pasture.—Plutarch. *
* The Fortune of Alexander, 6.
What would not Jews or Christians give for such a passage in their "holy" book! How proudly the clergy would quote it, to prove the divinity of their religion, if this beautiful gem sparkled somewhere within the covers of their bible!
I am a man, and nothing human can be foreign to me.—Terrence.
A sentiment like that makes the whole page which expresses it of solid gold. In vain do we look for so big an utterance in "infallible" books. To the Hebrew there was no world outside Israel, and to Jesus all that came before him were "thieves and robbers." Not until Christianity crossed over into Europe did its missionaries discover that "God hath made of one blood all the nations of the earth," though even then it was a creed they had to accept or perish.
In the name of the universal brotherhood which binds together all men under the common father of nature.
Nature is the only impartial father. The chosen people of this father are those of whatever race and religion who conquer knowledge and follow Reason.—Quintillian.
Love mankind.—Antoninus.
Is it not better than the "love one another," of Jesus, which really meant, "love only your fellow-believer"? Jesus declared that it will be worse for those who rejected him and his apostles, on the last day, than for Sodom and Gomorrah, which were consumed by fire from heaven.
What good man will look on any suffering as foreign to himself?—Juvenal.
The Universe is but a great city; never, in reply to the question to what country you belong, say you are an Athenian, or a Corinthian, but say you are a Cosmopolitan—a citizen of the world.—Epictetus. *