Immediately after His arrest, Jesus is taken away to "Caiaphas the high priest, where the scribes and the elders were assembled" (Matt. XXVI:57).[40]
The council seek "false witnesses" against Jesus and at first have some difficulty in finding any. "At the last came two false witnesses, and said: This fellow said, I am able to destroy the temple of God, and to build it in three days" (Matt. XXVI:59, 60, 61). Interrogated as to this charge, "Jesus held His peace" (Matt. XXVI:62, 63). The high priest then adjures Him to tell them whether He is "the Christ, the Son of God" (Matt. XXVI:63). "Jesus saith unto him, Thou hast said: nevertheless I say unto you, Hereafter shall ye see theSon of Mansitting on the right hand of power and coming in the clouds of heaven" (Matt. XXVI:64). The high priest accepts this as a confession of blasphemy, and, on appeal to the council, they say, "He is guilty of death" (Matt. XXVI:65, 66). They then indulge their spite against Jesus by spitting in His face and striking Him with their hands (Matt. XXVI:67, 68).[41]
In the morning (Friday) the chief priests bind Jesus and bring Him to Pontius Pilate, the Roman "governor" or procurator (Matt. XXVII:1, 2). Pilate asks Him, "Art Thou the King of the Jews? And Jesus said unto him, Thou sayest" (Matt. XXVII:11).[42]He persists in maintaining His position of silence or non-negation against all the accusations of the chief priests, "insomuch that the governor marvelled greatly" (Matt. XXVII:12-14). Pilate's wife, having been warned in a dream, sends word to him, "Have thou nothing to do with that just man" (Matt. XXVII:19). It being a custom of the feast of the Passover that the governor should release one prisoner to the people, and Pilate, knowing that the chief priests had delivered Jesus to him out of "envy," asks the multitude whom he shall release unto them, Barabbas or Jesus (Matt. XXVII:15, 16, 17, 20, 21). The multitude demands the release of Barabbas, and, on Pilate's asking them what he shall do with Jesus, "they all say unto him, Let Him be crucified" (Matt. XXVII:22). "And the Governor said, Why, what evil hath He done? But they cried out the more, saying, Let Him be crucified" (Matt. XXVII:23). Pilate then washed his hands before the multitude, "saying, I am innocent of the blood of this just person; see ye to it. Then answered all the people and said, His blood be on us, and on our children" (Matt. XXVII:24, 25). Thereupon Pilate released Barabbas, and after he had scourged Jesus, delivered Him to be crucified (Matt. XXVII:26).
In Mark the charges before the Sanhedrim are the same as in Matthew with some slight verbal changes (Mark XIV:53-66). To the question, "Art Thou the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?" Jesus answers directly, "I am."
The proceedings before Pilate are substantially the same as in Matthew (Mark XV:1-15).
According to Luke, the session of the Sanhedrim was held "as soon as it was day," instead of in the night, immediately after Jesus' arrest (Luke XXII:66). The only charge here is, "Art Thou the Christ?" Jesus, after a few words, recognizing the futility of any defense, says, "Ye say that I am" (Luke XXII:66-71).
Luke's account of the proceedings before Pilate is more detailed than, and somewhat different from, that of Matthew and Mark. The charge is maliciously distorted so as to offend the political susceptibilities of the Romans. "We found this fellow perverting the nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar, saying that He Himself is Christ, a King" (Luke XXIII:2). Pilate, after questioning Jesus, says at once, "I find no fault in this Man" (Luke XXIII:4). This makes the chief priests the more fierce, and they press again their charges, mentioning that Jesus comes from Galilee (Luke XXIII:5). Galilee being in Herod's jurisdiction, and Herod being then in Jerusalem, Pilate sends Jesus to him, probably hoping thus to rid himself of the whole trouble (Luke XXIII:6, 7).[43]Herod questions Jesus, who answers him nothing, and then with his men of war mocks Jesus, arrays Him "in a gorgeous robe," and sends Him back to Pilate (Luke XXIII:8-11). Pilate then calls together the "chief priests and the rulers and the people," and tells them that both he and Herod have examined Jesus, and lo, "nothing worthy of death is done unto Him" (proved against Him) (Luke XXIII:13-15). "I will, therefore, chastise Him and release Him" (Luke XXIII:16). "And they cried out all at once, saying, Away with this Man, and release unto us Barabbas" (Luke XXIII:18). Twice more Pilate urges that Jesus be released, but they insist that He be crucified. Pilate finally yields and "gave sentence that it should be as they required" (Luke XXIII:20-24).
Neither Mark nor Luke nor John mentions that Pilate publicly washed his hands of responsibility for Jesus' sentence.
John's account of the trial is very indefinite. Jesus was first taken to Annas,[44]the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest, and Annas sent Him bound unto Caiaphas (John XVIII:13, 14). There was probably a session of the Sanhedrim, though this is not clear, and it was probably at the house of the high priest (John XVIII:15). No specific charges against Jesus are mentioned, but the high priest asked Him "of His disciples, and of His doctrine" (John XVIII:19). Jesus replies that He has spoken openly, and said nothing in secret, and that the priest should ask those who had heard Him (John XVIII:19, 20, 21, 23). No formal condemnation of Jesus is related, nor is it said who was present except the high priest.
Then "they" bring Jesus to Pilate "unto the hall of judgment," but "they cannot enter in, because it would defile them for the eating of the Passover that night (John XVIII:28). Pilate then comes out to them and asks what accusation they have against Jesus (John XVIII:29). They evade the issue by saying, "If He were not a malefactor, we would not have delivered Him up to thee" (John XVIII:30). Pilate very aptly tells them to take Him and judge Him according to their Law, but they reply, "It is not lawful for us to put any man to death" (John XVIII:31). Pilate thereupon goes back to the judgment hall, and, after an examination of Jesus, comes out and says, "I find in Him no fault at all" (John XVIII:33-38). He then suggests that, according to custom, he release Jesus unto them. "Then cried they all again, saying, Not this Man, but Barabbas" (John XVIII:39, 40).
Upon this Pilate has Jesus scourged, a crown of thorns put on His head, and a purple robe about Him, and has the soldiers hail Him as King of the Jews (John XIX:1-3). He once more brings Jesus before the people and states that he finds no fault in Him.[45]The Jews still insist that by their law He ought to die, "because He made Himself the Son of God" (John XIX:4-7). Pilate goes back into the judgment hall, and talks further with Jesus, evidently hoping to find some way out of his dilemma (John XIX:8-11). "And from thenceforth Pilate sought to release Him; but the Jews cried out, saying, If thou let this Man go, thou art notCæsar's friend" (John XIX:12). Pilate makes one more effort to save Jesus, but, failing, delivers Him over to be crucified (John XIX:13-16).
The soldiers, taking Jesus, at first mocked Him, putting on Him a scarlet robe and a crown of thorns, spitting on Him and smiting Him (Matt. XXVII:27-30). They then put His own raiment on Him, and took Him to the place of Crucifixion, on the way impressing a "man of Cyrene, Simon by name," to carry His cross (Matt. XXVII:31, 32). When they reached Golgotha, they gave Him vinegar to drink, mixed with gall, but, on tasting it, Jesus refused to drink (Matt. XXVII:33, 34). They then crucified Him with two thieves, one on each hand, and parted His raiment, casting lots (Matt. XXVII:35, 38). Over His head they set up "His accusation written: This is Jesus, the King of the Jews" (Matt. XXVII:37). The passers-by and the chief priests and the two thieves mocked and reviled Him on account of His prophecies and His failure to save Himself (Matt. XXVII:39-44). The Crucifixion was apparently at the sixth hour, and darkness was over the land until the ninth hour (Matt. XXVII:45). Jesus then cried out in a loud voice, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani" (Matt. XXVII:46). Some of them who stood there thought that He called for Elias; one of them took a sponge filled with vinegar and gave it to Him to drink (Matt. XXVII:47, 48). "Jesus, when He had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost" (Matt. XXVII:50). Then was the veil of the temple rent in twain, and "the earth did quake and the rocks rent" (Matt. XXVII:51). Graves were opened, and bodies of the saints which slept arose, "and came out of the graves after His resurrection," and appeared to many in the "holy city" (Matt. XXVII:52, 53). When the centurion and the soldiers saw these things done, "they feared greatly, saying, Truly this was the Son of God" (Matt. XXVII:54). There were many women from Galilee, "beholding afar off," including Mary Magdalene, Mary, Jesus' aunt, and also the mother of the apostles James and John (Matt. XXVII:55, 56). "When the even was come" Joseph, a rich man of Arimathæa, takes Jesus' body, Pilate, at his request having delivered it to him, wraps it "in a clean linen cloth," and lays it in his own new tomb, "hewn out in the rock." He rolls a great stone to the door of the sepulchre and departs (Matt. XXVII:57-60). On the following day the chief priests come to Pilate and tell him of Jesus' prophecy, that after three days He would arise again. They express their fearsthat the disciples may steal the body and claim that He was risen from the dead. Pilate gives them a watch, and "they went, and made the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone and setting a watch" (Matt. XVII:62-66).[46]
Mark follows closely the narrative of Matthew, except he says that they offered Jesus wine mingled with myrrh to drink,[47]instead of vinegar and gall (Mark XV:23). Mark omits the supernatural happenings at the death of Jesus, except that the veil of the temple was rent in twain (Mark XV:38).
He also omits any account of the sealing of the sepulchre, or the setting of a watch over it (Mark XV:46, 47).
Luke omits the ill-treatment of Jesus by the soldiers before starting on their march (Luke XXIII:25, 26). "And there followed Him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented Him (Luke XXIII:27). Jesus delivers a short address to the women, which does not appear in the other Gospels (Luke XXIII:28-31). They bring Him to Calvary and crucify Him and the two "malefactors" (Luke XXIII:33). "Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke XXIII:34). The superscription over Him was written in letters of Greek, Latin and Hebrew (Luke XXIII:38). Luke alone relates that, when one of the "malefactors" railed at Jesus, the other rebuked Him, and asked Jesus to remember him, when He should come into His kingdom; Jesus says to him: "Today shalt thou be with me in paradise" (Luke XXIII:39-43). The sun was darkened and the "veil of the temple was rent in the midst" (Luke XXIII:44, 45). The centurion acknowledges Jesus to be a righteous man, and "all the people that came together to that sight" smote their breasts (Luke XXIII:47, 48), "and all His acquaintance and the women that followed Him from Galilee stood afar off, beholding these things" (Luke XIII:49). Joseph of Arimathæa obtains Jesus' body from Pilate, and lays it in a new sepulchre, hewn in stone (Luke XXIII:50-53), "and the women also, which came with Him from Galilee, followed after and beheld the sepulchre, and how His body was laid. And they returned and prepared spices and ointments" (Luke XXIII:55, 56). No mention is made of any guard over the sepulchre.
John does not mention the ill-treatment of Jesus by the soldiers, nor any Simon of Cyrene. According to him, Jesus Himself carried His cross (John XIX:17).[48]
The title on the cross, written in Greek, Latin and Hebrew, was "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews."[49]The chief priests objected to Pilate about this (probably considering it an insult to their nation), but Pilate refused to change it (John XIX:19-22).
John says that Jesus' mother, His aunt, Mary Magdalene and the disciple "whom He loved," stood by the cross. Jesus recommends His mother to this disciple's care, and "from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home" (John XIX:25-27).[50]
The vinegar was then given Jesus to drink, and, at the request of the Jews, the soldiers broke the legs of the two who were crucified with Jesus, but "they brake not His legs," because He was dead already. One of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, "came there out blood and water" (John XIX:28-37).[51]
John does not mention any supernatural occurrences at the time of Jesus' death, Joseph of Arimathæa obtains Jesus' body "secretly" from Pilate, and, with the aid of Nicodemus, wound the body in linen with spices—"A mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred pound weight"—"as the manner of the Jews is to bury" (John XIX:38-40). "Now, in the place where He was crucified there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid they Jesus therefore because of the Jews' preparation day; for the sepulchre was nigh at hand" (John XIX:41, 42). No mention is made of the attendance of the women, or of any guard being placed about the sepulchre.
About dawn on Sunday morning, the two Marys came to the sepulchre (Matt. XXVIII:1). The soldiers set to watch the tomb are there also (Matt. XXVIII:4). There is a "great earthquake, for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came, and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it" (Matt. XXVIII:2). "His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow" (Matt. XXVIII:3). The angel tells the women that Jesus is risen, and bids them go quickly and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead; "and, behold, He goeth before you intoGalilee; there shall ye see Him" (Matt. XXVIII:6, 7). As the women were on their way to tell this to the disciples, "Jesus met them, saying, All hail. And they came and held Him by the feet, and worshipped Him" (Matt. XXVIII:9). Jesus says to them to be not afraid, and to tell His brethren that He will meet them inGalilee(Matt. XXVIII:10). Some of the watch go into the city and tell the chief priests what has happened (Matt. XXVIII:11). The chief priests give the soldiers "large money" to say, "His disciples came by night and stole Him away while we slept" (Matt. XXVIII:12, 13). The soldiers did as they were taught, and "this saying is commonly reported among the Jews until this day" (Matt. XXVIII:15). "Then the eleven disciples went away into Galilee, into a mountain where Jesus had appointed them. And when they saw Him, they worshipped Him, but some doubted" (Matt. XXVIII:16, 17). Jesus then tells them to teach and baptize "all nations" (Matt. XXVIII:10).[52]
According to Mark, the two Marys and Salome come to the tomb early Sunday morning "at the rising of the sun" (Mark XVI:1). There was no watch there, and the stone was rolled away from the door of the sepulchre (Mark XVI:2, 3). They go into the sepulchre and find there a "young man, sitting on the right side, clothed in a long, white garment" (Mark XVI:5). The young man says to them that Jesus is risen, and that they should go and tell the disciples and Peter: "He goeth before you intoGalilee," where they should see Him (Mark XVI:6, 7). The women fled quickly from the tomb, "neither said they anything to any man; for they were afraid" (Mark XVI:8). Then, at some time and place not specified, Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene (Mark XVI:9). She tells of this appearance to "them that had been with Him, as they mourned and wept," but they believeth not (Mark XVI:10, 11). "After that He appeared in another form unto two of them, as they walked, and went into the country. And they went and told it unto the residue: Neither believed they then" (Mark XVI:12, 13). Afterward, at a time and place not specified, Jesus appears to the eleven "as they sat at meat," and upbraided them for their unbelief and hardness ofheart in not believing the accounts of His previous appearances to Mary and the two disciples (Mark. XVI:14). He then delivers a short exhortation to go into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature, telling of the signs that should follow belief, and the punishment that should follow unbelief (Mark XVI:15, 18). "So then, after the Lord had spoken unto them, He was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God" (Mark XVI:19).[53]
Luke relates that the two Marys, Joanna and "other women" went to the tomb on Sunday, "very early in the morning" (Luke XXIV:1, 10). There is no watch and the stone is rolled away (Luke XXIV:2). They enter the sepulchre, find the body of Jesus gone, and, as they stand there "much perplexed," "behold, two men stood by them in shining garments" (Luke XXIV:3, 4). They were afraid, but the two men tell them that Jesus is risen, as He had predicted, and as they now remember (Luke XXIV:5, 6, 7, 8). The women then return and tell "all these things unto the eleven and to all the rest," but "their words seem to them as idle tales, and they believed them not" (Luke XXIV:9, 11). Peter then goes to the sepulchre, finds the linen clothes "laid by themselves," but apparently sees nothing of the two men (Luke XXIV:12).
On the same day Cleopas[54]and another disciple go to a village called Emmaus, about three score furlongs from Jerusalem (Luke XXIV:13, 18).
As they are proceeding on their way, Jesus, in the guise of a stranger, joins them. Quite a long conversation follows, the disciples telling Jesus the things that had happened to Him, and He expounding the Scriptures to them. It is evening when they reach the village, and Jesus "made as though He would go further." But the two disciples induce Him to tarry with them (Luke XXIV:15-29), "and it came to pass as He sat at meat with them, He took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished out of their sight" (Luke XXIV:30, 31).
The two return to Jerusalem and, finding the eleven there, say to them, "The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared toSimon" (Luke XXIV:32, 33, 34). They then tell the disciples what happened to them on the way (Luke XXIV:35). "As they thus spoke, Jesus Himself stood in the midst of them" (Luke XXIV:36).The disciples are terrified, and "supposed that they had seen a spirit" (Luke XXIV:37). Jesus then tells them to see and handle His hands and feet, and prove that He is real flesh and bones and not a spirit. But "they yet believed not for joy, and wondered." To finally convince them He eats before them a piece of broiled fish and some honeycomb (Luke XXIV:38-43). He then delivers a short discourse to them, telling that these things have happened to Him that the Law and the prophets might be fulfilled (Luke XXIV:44-49). They then went out to Bethany and He blessed them, and "while He blessed, He was parted from them and carried up into heaven" (Luke XXIV:50, 51).
John says that Mary Magdalene came along to the sepulchre and found the stone rolled away (John XX:1). She then summons Peter and John, who enter and find the grave clothes lying around, but no body. They then "went away again unto their own home." It is added, "For as yet they knew not the Scripture, that He must rise again from the dead" (John XX:2-10). Mary remains weeping, and, looking again into the sepulchre, sees two angels in white there (John XX:11, 12). They ask her, "Why weepest thou?" and she says, "Because they have taken away my Lord and I know not where they have laid Him" (John XX:13). She then turns and sees Jesus standing, but supposes Him to be the gardener. She asks Him to tell her where they have laid Jesus, "and I will take Him away," she says (John XX:14, 15). Jesus then calls her by name, and she apparently recognizes Him and calls Him Master (John XX:16). Jesus then tells her, "Go unto my brethren and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father and your Father, and to my God and your God" (John XX:17). Mary then reports these things to the disciples, but John does not say whether they believed her, or, as Mark and Luke say, they disbelieved her (John XX:18). On this same Sunday evening, when the eleven, except Thomas, are together secretly for fear of the Jews, Jesus came to them and showed them His hands and side. Then follows a short discourse from Jesus to His disciples (John XX:20-23). When Thomas hears of this appearance, he expresses his disbelief, unless he can put his fingers into the print of the nails, and thrust his hand into His side (John XX:24, 25). Eight days later Jesus appears again to His disciples, when Thomas is present, and tells the latter to make his verifications. Thomas says unto Him, "My Lord and my God." Jesus then commends those who "have not seen, and yet have believed" (John XX:26-29).
John's Gospel apparently at one time ended at this point (John XX:30, 31), but Chapter XXI was subsequently added. Herethere is related a third appearance of Jesus, this time to six of the apostles and Nathaniel of Cana (John XXI:1, 2). This occurred at the sea of Tiberias, and there was a miraculous draught of fishes (see Luke V:4, 5, 6), and a hint of Peter walking on the water (see Matt. XIV:28-31). At first the disciples "knew not that it was Jesus," and, even after John tells Peter that it is the Lord, they seem to be under some restraint, "and none of the disciples durst ask Him, Who art thou, knowing that it was the Lord" (John XXI:3-12). After they had dined, there ensued some conversation between Jesus and Peter, and later with John, out of which came the saying that the latter should not die (John XXI:15-23).
In neither of these appearances is there any account of Jesus ascending up into heaven, or of His instructing the disciples to preach His Gospel to all nations.[55]
With the death of Jesus, died also His dream of converting the Jews to His religious ideas. A few scattered bands of followers—Nazarites or Ebionites—survived Him. But they existed only in a moribund condition, exerted no influence over the nation, and, in the course of a few centuries, disappeared from history. The Jews as a people rejected, and have always rejected, both Jesus as a Messiah and His teachings as their religion. If the Jews had then been an independent nation, living in their haughty isolation from other peoples, the power and hatred of the Pharisees would probably have stamped out the last remnants of Jesus' followers, and He would have survived only as a name in history. But the disciples (or apostles) found under the Roman rule protection for their teaching, and ready access to the Gentile communities, not only in Palestine, but throughout all the coasts of the Mediterranean. Among these communities Jesus' Gospel found a quick and ready acceptance, and, within two or three centuries after His death, it had become a mighty living force in the evolution of mankind. In the reign of Constantine, Christianity became the dominant religion in the Roman empire, and it rapidly brought under its influence the Northern Barbarians, who, in their turn, were to be the conquerors of this empire.
As Christianity grew and spread and became more powerful, it lost almost all resemblance to the religion of "right living," which Jesus had taught and practiced. The spiritual and temporal powers were once more re-united, dogmas, creeds, theological disquisitions multiplied, "until the fair body of religion, revealed in almost naked purity by the prophets, is once more hidden under a new accumulation of dogmas and of ritual practices of which the primitive Nazarene knew nothing; and which He would probably have regarded as blasphemous if He could have been made to understand them."
"As, century after century, the ages roll on, polytheism comes back under the disguise of mariolatry and the adoration of saints; image worship becomes as rampant as in old Egypt; adoration of relics takes the place of the old fetich-worship; the virtues of the ephod pale before those of holy coats and handkerchiefs; shrines and calvaries make up for the loss of the ark and of the high places; and even the lustral water of paganism is replaced by holy water at the porches of the temples. A touching ceremony—the common meal originally eaten in pious memory of a loved teacher—was metamorphosed into a flesh-and-blood sacrifice, supposed to possess exactly that redeeming virtue which the prophets denied to the flesh-and-blood sacrifices of their day; while the minute observance of ritual was raised to a degree of punctilious refinement which Levitical legislators might envy. And with the growth of this theology, grew its inevitable concomitant, the belief in evil spirits, in possession, in sorcery, in charms and omens, until the Christians of the twelfth century after our era were sunk in more debased and brutal superstitions than are recorded of the Israelites in the twelfth century before it."
(Some Controverted Questions, Huxley, p. 159.)
In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the leaders of the Reformation and the New Learning began their relentless warfare upon the existing formalism and superstition, and from two different points of attack. After centuries of bloody wars, Protestantism succeeded in displacing Catholicism as the dominant religion over a large part of Northern Europe. Roman Catholicism still remained dominant in Southern Europe, and Greek Catholicism in Eastern Europe. In the meanwhile, to the eternal disgrace of the then Christendom, the followers of Mahomet had established his religion in some of the fairest portions of Southeastern Europe. If the Christian nations of the fifteenth century had expended on the practical cause of keeping Mohammedanism out of Europe one tithe of the energy and sacrifice that they did expend on the unpractical dream of recovering the Holy Sepulchre, Europe would have been spared the endless heritage of evil that has followed the introduction of the unspeakable Turk into European politics. But mutual jealousies, prejudices, petty ambitions, dissentions and discords permitted this calamity to occur, the end of which it seems is not yet.
As the Reformed churches became established in power, each one developed its own formalism, different from, but no more in consonance with, Jesus' simple religion, than that of the Catholics. As dogmatic theologians, Luther, Calvin, Knox and Jonathan Edwards were little improvement over Loyola, Augustine and Justin. Predestination, fore-ordination, change of heart, infant damnation, eternal punishment, the Thirty-nine Articles, the Augsburg Confession, would have been as unintelligible to Jesus, and would have met as summary condemnation at His hands, as the quarrels between the homoi-ousians and the homo-ousians, which rent the Christian world in the third century after His death.
But a more formidable champion had entered the lists againstdogmatic theology and in favor of the creedless religion of Jesus. The invention of printing, the growth of science, the diffusion of education, and the development of a world-wide commerce were all working towards the eradication of superstition, the breaking down of national and racial and religious antipathies and prejudices, the cultivation of relations, first of business, and then of mutual regard and friendship between the peoples of different countries, the constant amelioration of the roughness, harshness and cruelty of earlier times, the encouragement of courtesy, consideration for others and charity towards all men. All these forces were making for Jesus' ideal of a common humanity, where the asperities of different religious creeds would cease to trouble, and each man might love his neighbor as himself. A tremendous victory had been won when the time came, that an Orthodox Catholic would admit that his righteous-living Protestant neighbor might inherit heaven as surely as himself.
The optimist of the early years of this century might have hugged himself with complacency over the rapid progress which the Gospel of Jesus was making in moulding mankind towards a realization of His ideals. Then came the cataclysm of 1914. The leading nations of Europe—all Christian except the Turks—plunged into the bloodiest war of history, and on the most petty of pretexts—the political administration of an insignificant Balkan state. The Gospel of Jesus, as an efficient force restraining these nations from war, was as though it had never existed. In the communications between England, France, Russia and Germany, preliminary to the war and ostensibly seeking to avert war, did any one statesman urge the argument that the law of Jesus forbade this war? Not a single syllable, and, for the sufficient reason, that each one knew that it would fall on deaf ears and would be laughed at as "old women's talk." So far as the efficiency of such arguments was concerned, they might as well have been used between the Persians and Egyptians before Jesus was born.
Then, when war broke out, came the supreme irony of each nation crowding its churches to pray for the assistance of the meek and gentle Jesus in slaughtering its enemies. Later, the victorious nations crowded their churches to thank Jesus that He had made them successful in their hellish business.
There are some who can quiet their consciences by shifting the responsibility for the incalculable misery of this brutal, barbarous conflict from the sins and evil ambitions of man to the shoulders of the Almighty. With those holding this (to the writer) blasphemous doctrine, argument is useless. But to the ordinary, sincere and candid follower of Jesus, does not the occurrence of this war give occasion to pause and think—as it were, to take an account of his stock-in-trade? Why did the mighty forces of Christianity fail to work with any practical effect at this, their supreme test—the prevention of war? What promise has the future to prevent the recurrence of such evils? How far has modern Christianity kept undefiled the pure religion of the Great Nazarene?
These are all questions demanding at this time the serious consideration of every thinking man, professed Christian or not.
The Gospel of Jesus proclaimed the highest ethical ideal that had yet appeared on earth. But, as a working rule-of-conduct for practical, everyday life, it contained an essential weakness. With its acceptance by one nation after another, it became an efficient force, working with other forces in the evolution of mankind. But here it came in direct conflict with the forces of nature, which, working through countless ages, had made man what he then was. The ultimate goal of man's struggles and aspirations under the Gospel of Jesus was self-abnegation, non-resistance, the protection of the weak by the strong. The ultimate goal of nature's forces was self-assertion, battle, the crushing out of the weak by the strong. The struggle for existence and the survival of the fittest had no place in their operation for the doctrines of "turning the other cheek," and "loving thy neighbor as thyself." The two were, and always will be, as incompatible as fire and water.
When the Germans, some fifty years ago, began dreaming of, and planning for, a world empire, some of their philosophers clearly recognized, and openly proclaimed, the essential antipathy between the forces of Christianity, working towards Jesus' ideal, and the forces of nature, working towards the survival of the fittest. In order to realize her dream, it was necessary for Germany to treat the Sermon on the Mount as the piping of some "idle singer of an empty day."
On the assumption that the "manifest destiny" of the Germans was to be world-conquerors, these philosophers argued, with unassailable logic, that the nation had made a vital mistake in abandoning the heathen gods for the Jesus of Christianity. World-conquest demands of its aspirant merciless severity, even to the enslavement or annihilation of any unoffending people, which the "necessity of war" considers to be impeding its progress. In so far as the individual imbibes, and is affected by, the ideals of Jesus, just so far is his efficiency as a unit of the conquering nationimpaired. World-conquerors can tolerate no "conscientious objectors" in their ranks. Logically their gods should be the gods of the old Valhalla, Valor, Glory, Victory. Their priests should preach war and hate, not peace and love.
With a courage and consistency that left nothing unsaid, these German writers tore in twain the veil of hypocrisy with which Christian nations cover up their wars, and their schemes of colonization, benevolent assimilation, etc. They showed forth the naked truth that Jesus' ideal and nature's goal for man are the antipodes of each other, at least as regards different nations struggling with each other for supreme power. In other words, the forces of Christianity are working in one direction, and the forces of nature in another.
As with the Nation, so with the Individual.
Jesus (stating His ideal standard, it must be remembered) says: "Go and sell that thou hast and give to the poor" (Matt. XIX:21).
Nature says: Not so. If you had done this in the beginning, you would now have nothing with which to help the poor. If you do it now, you will simply be adding yourself and your family to increase the number of the poor.
Jesus says: "Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat; neither for the body, what ye shall put on" (Luke XII:22).
Nature says: Take thought for the morrow and provide for the future of yourself and your family; practice economy, frugality, thrift; see to it that the contingency of sickness, or the coming of old age, does not bring you and those dependent on you into the ranks of the poor, seeking aid from others.
The contrast between the two goals is as sharply defined in the case of the individual as in the case of the nation.
From this it does not follow that nature's forces do not make for altruism. As the family, the tribe or clan, the race, and the nation are successively evolved, the scope of self-interest widens and the means necessary to attain its ends become less individualistic and more humanitarian. As Fagin impresses on Noah Claypole, even in a band of thieves, the number one of Noah must also include the number one of the other members of the gang. In a modern community, whether Christian or heathen, the successful business or professional man must necessarily practice, to a greater or less degree, the same virtues inculcated by Jesus; otherwise he makes himself an outcast—an Ishmaelite—against whom every man's hand is turned.
"Honesty is the best policy" of the utilitarian leads to the same results as the Gospel maxim "to deal justly with all men."
Also the growth of a world-wide commerce, with the accompanying spread of international law, develops constantly a spirit of international morality. A nation today, planning a war, must look beyond the question of how its course will affect the self-interest of other nations. If it has wisdom in its councils, it must also reckon with this spirit of international morality. If its cause be too palpably unjust, or the means it adopts to secure victory be too barbarous, it may shock this international morality, and bring upon itself unexpected enemies, who may balk its best laid plans. The possibility of such contingencies arising will have far more weight than any argument based on the teaching of Jesus.
In Physics a body acted on by two divergent forces takes a course which is the resultant of (a compromise between) the two different forces. So, if Christianity is to survive as an efficient force in man's evolution, compromises must be made between the ideals of Jesus and the natural forces expressed in the terms of the struggle for existence and the survival of the fittest. It is possible that the day may come, when all nations of our planet may be converted, to put into practical operation in international affairs the ideals of Jesus. But the experience of the world during 1914 shows that little, if any, progress has been made in that direction since the Crucifixion. Suppose the Christian nations of Europe and America should announce today the doctrine of non-resistance, dismantle their fleets and dismiss their armies, how long would it be before the Moslems, or the "yellow hordes" of Asia, would enslave them and exterminate all Christian religion and civilization? Fortunately, such a result is unthinkable, and the Christian nations will, until some unknown time in the future, continue their compromise with Jesus' ideals. The unspeakable Turk will continue to understand that, if he massacres some Christian villages, the other cheek will not be turned to him, but, on the contrary, a righteous retribution of bayonet and shell will be meted out to him.
A superficial glance at history illustrates the necessity of national compromise.
If Moses had preached, and the Jews had put in practice, the doctrine of non-resistance, they would soon have been exterminated by their Philistine neighbors, and the Jesus that was would never have been.
If the tribes of the northern barbarians in the first thousand years of our era had put into practical effect the Sermon on theMount, as soon as they accepted Christianity, there would have been no Anglo-Saxon England and United States, as they are today.
If Ferdinand and Isabella had not relied on their earthly weapons, Spain would probably have been Moslem to this day.
If the Christian powers had not warred against the Turks in the sixteenth century, the greater part of Europe would have bowed the knee to Mahomet, and the Mosque would have superseded the Church as the authorized place of worship.
If our colonial ancestors had obeyed the injunction, "Render to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's," there would have been no American Revolution.
If the "conscientious objectors" had swayed the councils of the North in 1861, we would now have a divided country, with slavery firmly established in one-half of it.
As with the nation, so with the individual, a compromise between Jesus' ideals and the forces of nature is a necessity, at least until evolution has produced some fundamental change in human nature.
It is related that when the mother and brethren of Jesus sought to speak with Him, He repudiated their special claims of relationship on Him, and said: "For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister and mother" (Matt. XII:50; Mark III:31; Luke VIII:19).
In another place He says: "He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me" (Matt. X:37).
"If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple" (Luke XIV:26).
"And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive a hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life" (Matt. XIX:29).
"And He said unto another, Follow me. But he said, Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father.
"Jesus said unto him, let the dead bury their dead; but go thou and preach the kingdom of God" (Luke IX:59, 60).
Now, no sane man would advocate that doctrines such as these should be put into general, practical operation under the present constitution of human nature. Their practice would make of man a selfish ascetic, would disintegrate the family into its individual units, like animals when the breeding season is past, would discourage human progress and development, and would eventually lead to the degradation or extinction of any society which attempted to consistently enforce them. Of course the individual man or woman may abjure family ties altogether, without serious loss to the community and even perhaps with some gain, just as the drones have a function to perform in a community of bees. But the universal adoption of this practice by a human community would mean its speedy death. With those who would regard this as a desirable outcome of Jesus' teachings, we have no argument.
There is, however, no danger of such a condition of affairs coming to pass. For untold ages before these utterances of Jesus, nature had been developing the family affections in man. It had made the family the fundamental unit of the tribe, the clan, the race, the nation. These family affections, so planted by nature in man, must, in society as a whole, override the ethical idea of a general philanthropy, as embodied in these utterances of Jesus. The normal man has always, and does now, rank the duties to his family as paramount over those of general philanthropy.
Man will continue to marry and have children in the future, as he has in the past. He will continue to regard his obligations to his family as superior and prior to those he owes to mankind in general. He will feel within himself the urge, not merely to satisfy the need of the day, but also to provide for the future. He will look forward to the education and outfitting of his children. He will guard against the contingencies of sickness and the probabilities of old age coming upon himself and those dependent on him. He will engage with all his energy in the struggle with his fellow men for the acquisition of property. He will practice industry, thrift and economy, and take every fair means to push his own business at the expense of his competitors.
But in all this, even allowing that he has reasonably practiced the virtues of generosity, charity and philanthropy, there is no disguising the plain, naked truth that is all the time making compromises with the ideals of Jesus. His actions simply do not square with the maxims: Give all thy goods to the poor; take no thought for the morrow; every one who does the will of God is the same to you as your brother and sister and mother; resist not evil, but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also; whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain; give to every man that asketh of thee, and of him that taketh away thy goods, ask them not again; love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you; lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth; take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? Or, What shall we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.
It is difficult to conceive how, at the present stage of man's evolution, any community of considerable size, even if we assume all external hostile interference eliminated, could put these ideals into practical effect without disaster. As we know man, he has become what he is only through strife and contest, through the survival of the strong, the industrious, the provident over the weak, the lazy, the improvident. If the struggle for existence is eliminated, is there not every reason to expect that progress will be arrested, and the nation's civilization will decay and finally disappear, as has been the case so many times in the past history of the world? The desire for the acquisition of private property and the lust for power have been the two dominant motives impelling men to raise themselves from a stage of barbarism to a stage of civilization. What motives can be substituted for those that will have the same compelling, driving force? It is only by long centuries of hard fighting with material weapons that the powers of good have so far subdued the powers of evil as to establish our present standard of humanitarianism. But if the good are to be confined to the weapon of moral suasion, how long will it be until the powers of evil are in full control?
But, further, even if we assume that all evil-doers are converted from the error of their ways, the economic problem for a community working under these ideals seems insoluble. Even under the grinding necessities of the struggle for existence, the tendency of human populations to increase beyond their means of subsistence is an indisputable fact, as soon as they develop a civilization where peace and security of private property are measurably assured, and especially where manufacturing centers with large industrial populations are established. The many ancient civilizations that have arisen, flourished and decayed attest the truth of this fact. In the seventeenth century England was confronted with the problem of inadequate means of subsistence, and met it by spreading over the whole globe. What the history of the English people would have been if they had been confined to their native island, would afford an interesting subject for abstract philosophical speculation. Thus far, the vast undeveloped territories of the United States have furnished an outlet for its surplus population. But the time may not be far distant when the problem of subsistence may be a serious one with us. In modern times, nearly all the great nations have been struggling for the acquisition of new territories as an outlet for their expanding populations. Germany's economic needs were undoubtedly one of the strongestmotives urging her onward in her fateful dream of world empire. France attempts to meet the difficulty by voluntary, individual action in limiting the birth rate. This remedy will always be resorted to in highly civilized nations, as the pressure of population on subsistence becomes more severe. But the decrease of population means the arrest of growth and progress in the national organism, and eventual decadence.
Thus dark and uncertain is the economic outlook for nations where the competitive struggle for existence is in full sway, where the acquisition and accumulation of private property are fostered and encouraged, where thrift, industry and saving are ranked as cardinal virtues, and where proper provision for oneself and one's family is even enforced by law against the indolent and shiftless. What must be the economic future of a community from which these incentives and restraints are banished, and where sympathy for the unfortunate and the criminal, regardless of merit or desert, is to be the governing principle?
It follows, then, first, that the nation, in its international relations, must compromise with the ideals of Jesus in order to preserve its national existence, and to safeguard Christianity against the attacks of its external foes; and second, that the individual, in his daily life, must compromise with these ideals to preserve the well-being and continuity of the family and to ensure the progress of mankind in happiness, morality and material prosperity.
The Crucifixion was but a few years old when those two old enemies whom Jesus had fought so persistently—creeds and ceremonies—began to be active among the early Christians.Right theological thinkingbegan to assert its supremacy over theright practical living, taught by Jesus as the first essential of His professed followers. The outside of the cup was being carefully polished up, although the inside might be unclean. Paul, who had never had any personal intercourse with Jesus, was the protagonist of this retrograde movement. Zealous, energetic, a ready writer and a subtile dialectician, his numerous epistles furnished an arsenal of weapons for all future controversial theologians. His arrogance in defining the tenets of the rapidly growing Gentile Church was not one whit abated by the fact that he had never been in personal contact with Jesus, and that in his views he was opposed to those who had been the most intimate associates of Jesus during his entire prophetic career. Quite early in his ministration, Paul has a bitter quarrel with Peter, James, Cephas, John (the pillars) and other disciples of Jesus over some question of circumcision, and has no hesitation in telling Peter (the "rock" of the new Church) to his face that "he was to be blamed" for his views (Galatians II:11 et seq.).
It is not too much to say that he took the fair, smiling child of religion, as left by Jesus, and transformed it into a misshapen dwarf, with twisted and contorted limbs, and upon its face a frown of almost malevolent austerity.
When right theological thinking became established as the primary essential of a Christian, and especially when Christianity acquired temporal power, it was inevitable that there should be extracted from Paul's militant writings that most abominable doctrine of "No compromise with evil." In company with dogmatic distinctions of orthodoxy and heterodoxy, it has inflicted its full quota of misery and suffering upon the human race. It formed the justification of the cruelties of the Inquisition, the religious persecutions and wars of the Middle Ages, the conversion of savages by fire and sword, the extermination of so-called witches, and the burning at the stake of countless advanced thinkers in science and religion, and other so-called heretics.
Probably the unrecorded suffering which the advocates of this doctrine have inflicted in the domestic and social sphere would equal that which is written in political history. The possession of, and disposition to put into practical operation, this dogma presupposes sublime egoism, coupled with a narrowness of mind easily running into extreme bigotry. For the slightest study of history will show that the error and evil of one age becomes the truth and good of a succeeding age. But the non-compromiser ignores any consideration of that sort. If he has decided that this and that are evil, they must necessarily be evil without argument or appeal. He is the legitimate descendant of the old inquisitors, and, if he had the temporal power, would today enforce his ideas as ruthlessly throughout the nation as they did in the Middle Ages. Confined to the narrower limits of the domestic and social circle, he plays the autocrat so far as he can. Without sympathy or toleration for differing opinions and tastes, as husband, father, priest, officer, or citizen, the non-compromiser seeks to fit every one to his ownnarrowProcrustean bed.
Closely allied to the non-compromisers are the sacro-sancts, or those who would be holier than Jesus.
This class is well illustrated in an incident taken from a recent novel. The heroine consults her married sister about the heroine's contemplated marriage with a man who has divorced his wife onthe ground of her adultery. The sister declares that such a marriage would be no better than prostitution. "But he is legally divorced" says the heroine. "Yes, according to man's law, but not according to God's law," says the sister. Now, considering that divorce was permitted under God's law, as recorded in the Old Testament, that Matthew twice clearly and explicitly states that Jesus sanctioned divorce on the ground of adultery, and that John mentions no condemnation of divorce by Jesus, it would seem that there was at least a fair doubt as to whether the heroine's proposed marriage was contrary to God's law. But the sister, like other sacro-sancts and non-compromisers, arrogates to herself infallibility in interpreting the divine will, and will not admit argument as to her possible inaccuracy.
Other examples are those who would fear to contaminate their holiness by following their Master's example in eating and associating with publicans and sinners (Matt. IX:10); who would shudder at being anointed by a prostitute (Luke VII:37); who would think the Sabbath desecrated by pleasant walks in the fields, or by feasting and joyous meetings with one's friends (Matt. XII:1; Luke XIV:1), and who in general insist on the observance of religious rites and symbols, similar to those which Jesus condemned in the Pharisees.
One of the XXXIX Articles of the Protestant Episcopal Church takes a slap at these sacro-sancts (Book of Common Prayers, Article XIV). It condemns, as marks of "arrogancy and impiety," works of supererogation—that is, works over and above God's commandments. Undoubtedly the meaning here is, not to condemn excess in acts of mercy and charity, but excess in the same acts of ceremonial worship which Jesus condemned in the Pharisees: Long prayers, "standing in the synagogues" (churches), instead of in their "closet"; public fasting with "a sad countenance," so that they "disfigure their faces," instead of anointing their heads and washing their faces "that they appear not unto men to fast," making "broad their phylacteries" and giving ostentatiously their "tithe of mint and anise and cummin" (Matt. VI:1-7, 16, 17, 18; XXIII:4-7, 23).
The dogma of non-compromise finds no support in the teaching and practice of Jesus. He pictured the highest ideals for mankind. But He was no bigot in demanding that fallible human beings should live up to these ideals on pain of damnation. With His wonderful tolerance and broadminded sympathy, He recognized that the happiness and progress of the human race, in its present state of evolution, necessitated certain compromises with evil. "As between two evils, choose the less," would be muchnearer His position than "no compromise with evil." A short study of some of the episodes of His life will place this beyond dispute.
Jesus undoubtedly considered that riches were an evil (Matt. XIX:23, 24; XIII:22; Mark X:23, 24; Luke XVIII:24, 25). He knows the "deceitfulness" of riches, and that the temptations attending the possession of wealth do not ordinarily make for righteousness. He advises that one should lay up treasure in heaven rather than on earth (Matt. VI:19, 20; Luke XII:33).
Riches, then, being an evil, the non-compromiser should logically regard the rich man as a persistent evil-doer. He should constantly denounce his evil ways, as those of any other malefactor. He should refuse him his public association and friendship, since thereby he would be gilding his misconduct with the gold of his own sanctity. If a priest, he should charge his congregation to abstain from those habits of thrift and economy which will result in bringing upon them this evil of wealth.
But Jesus was too sane and broad-minded not to see that the happiness of mankind demanded a compromise with this evil. While warning against the temptations of riches, He preached poverty, not as a necessity to salvation, but as an ideal, to be attained and practiced by but a few.
Thus, in the case of the young man with "great possessions," Jesus, according to Matthew prefaces His counsel to sell his goods and give to the poor with the significant condition, "if thou wilt be perfect" (Matt. XIX:21). To the same effect are the accounts of Mark and Luke. "One thing thou lackest," viz., in order to be perfect (Mark X:21; Luke XVIII:22). Evidently Jesus took the concrete case of the young man to impress on His hearers one of His ideals—the high standard He set for those who aspired to be His immediate followers and the ministers of His Word. In His instructions to the twelve and the seventy, He laid down rules of conduct which practically eliminated the acquisition or possession of wealth (Matt. X:2, 9, 10; Mark VI:8, 9; Luke IX: 3; X:4). But He set no such severe standard for the rank and file of His followers, nor did He withhold His favor and countenance from the possessors of riches, as though they were evil doers.
Nearly all the persons named in the Gospels as intimate friends and associates of Jesus (outside of the apostles) were, apparently, more or less prominent, and belonged at least to the well-to-do class. Joseph of Arimathæa, a disciple of Jesus, and one "waiting for the Kingdom of God," and who placed His body in the sepulchre, was a rich man (Matt. XXVII:57; Luke XXIII:50, 51).Nicodemus, who assisted Joseph in the burial, brought a hundred pound weight of myrrh and aloes indicating that he was not a poor man (John XIX:39). According to John he was the man who came to Jesus by night and was a "ruler" of the Jews (John III:1, 2; VII:50). Lazarus, whom Jesus "loved" and with whose family He was very intimate (John XI:5; Luke X:38), could not have been a poor man, since his sister anointed Jesus with an ointment "very precious" and worth more than three hundred pence (Mark XIV:3, 4, 5).
On one occasion Jesus invites Himself to visit in the house of Zacchaeus, who was "chief among the publicans," rich, and a "sinner" (Luke XIX:1-7). Levi, the publican, gives a "great feast" for Jesus, which He approves by His presence (Luke V:29). On another occasion He goes to the house of one of the "chief Pharisees" to eat bread on the Sabbath day (Luke XIV:1).
Several times He commends the qualities of thrift and economy (Matt. XXV:21, 23; Luke XII:42-44; Matt. XXV:3, 4; XXIV:45, 46; Luke XIX:17, 19). He constantly extols charity—the generous giving to the poor—as one of the chief virtues, but the practice of this virtue on a considerable scale necessarily implies the prior accumulation of riches.
The evidence of the four Gospels proves that Jesus, without hesitation, compromised with the evil of riches. He praised voluntary poverty as an ideal for those who were supposing themselves to be already perfect, and, perhaps, demanded it of His apostles and those who assumed to be the ministers of His Word. But He imposed no such hard and fast rule for the rank and file of His followers. He did not go about fanatically denouncing the rich men as evil-doers and malefactors. On the contrary, He made them His friends, singled them out for special marks of His favor and regard, though constantly urging on them the deceitfulness of riches and the necessity of generous giving to the poor. His friendship for Mary, the sister of Lazarus, was so great that in her case He even condoned the use of the precious ointment for a purpose which He must have regarded as superfluous, instead of its being given to the poor (Matt. XXVI:6; Mark XIV:3; John XII:3).
Other instances illustrate the readiness of Jesus to compromise with evil—to choose the less of two evils—when the conditions of practical human life demanded it. A notable instance of this was in the matter of paying tribute to the Romans. Undoubtedly Jesus, like all the other Jews, regarded the imposition on them of Roman sovereignty as an injustice—as a very great evil. But, under existing conditions, resistance to the Roman power was hopeless. A refusal to pay tribute by the Jews would have brought on them imprisonment, death and countless sufferings, and, if persisted in, would have resulted in the enslavement or extermination of the race. In putting to Jesus the question: "Is it lawful to give tribute unto Cæsar or not?" the Pharisees thought they had framed a dilemma from which He could not escape. If He had been a fanatical non-compromiser, He could only have answered the question in the negative. The Pharisees would then have denounced Him to the Romans, and thereby compassed His immediate death before His mission was completed.
His answer, "Render therefore unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's, and unto God the things that are God's"—is pregnant with meaning to all religious bigots and fanatics if they could only open their minds to its significance. This earth is not a heaven, and cannot be made one so long as human beings are fallible and imperfect. Concessions and compromises must be constantly made between the material necessities of the body and the ethical ideals of the spirit. The economic ideal of the "greatest good to the greatest number" can no more be ignored by the theologian of today in formulating rules of conduct for humanity, than it was by Jesus in His time. However wrong and unjust in theory it was for the Jews to be subject to an alien race, still in practice the Roman rule was reasonably mild and humane. As between resistance and obedience to this rule, the latter was much the less evil. Consequently, Jesus wisely and sanely compromised with this evil and both paid tribute Himself (Matt. XVII:24-27), and advised His disciples to do likewise (Matt. XXII:21; Mark XII:17; Luke XX:25).
Again, carrying out the same idea of compromising with the existing evils of government, Jesus commands His disciples to "observe and do" whatsoever is bidden by the scribes and Pharisees, who "sit in Moses' seat," at the same time warning them not to imitate or follow the Pharisees' "works" (Matt. XXIII:2, 3).
Undoubtedly Jesus considered it an evil "to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Matt. X:35). He could foresee that this evil would result from the preaching of His Gospel. But better this evil, even, if it sent a "sword" on earth, than the greater evil that His Gospel should not be preached.
Unchastity in a woman is surely a most grievous evil. To the non-compromiser, the "scarlet woman" is a symbol of the lowest depth of vice, and no condemnation is too severe for her. But, on two occasions, Jesus dismissed the erring woman with His forgiveness (John VIII:11; Luke VII:47).
In fact, the two utterances of Jesus—"he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her" (John VIII:7), and "why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye" (Matt. VII:2)—cut at the very root of the non-compromiser's position. For, in carrying on his crusade against his pet evil-doers, it would be fatal to be obliged to stop to answer objections that he may not be infallible in deciding what is evil, and that he may himself have habits considered by others as evil as the one he is denouncing. For instance, many a prominent non-compromiser among the clergy is living in comparative ease, if not luxury. When he reads the standard of living set by Jesus for the ministers of His Word (Matt. X:9; Mark VI:8; Luke IX:3; X:4; XXII:35), he must admit that he is every day compromising with the ideals of Jesus—with the evil of riches.
Compromise is the rule of human life. Each individual, as he tries to follow the Socratic advice, "know thyself," finds that most of his actions are a compromise between his good impulses and his evil impulses. Few men are a Dr. Jekyll during the day and a Mr. Hyde during the night. Most men are partly Jekyls and partly Hydes all the time. As the individual makes his way in business and society, he learns more and more every day, if he has common sense, the wisdom and advisability of compromise. He that is always bent on "having his own way" will usually find that his way does not go far, and results in unhappiness for himself and others. Happy marriages are founded on a compromise of individual tastes, habits and opinions. Parents win and retain the affection of their children, not by imposing on them their own inflexible laws of right and wrong, but by modifying these laws to meet the different tastes, habits and opinions of the children. Success in business, in law, in politics, is usually associated with the faculty of making reasonable compromises. The wisest legislation is usually a compromise between conflicting interests and opinions.
It is not too much to say that compromise is the corner stone of every modern democratic society. It is a necessary consequence of the "rule of the majority," since the majority of today may be the minority of tomorrow. To find a society of his taste, the non-compromiser should seek some negro tribe in darkest Africa, where the witch-doctors permit no deviations from the prescribed theological cult. Or, in matters political, he might find much to admire in the administrative system of Louis the XIVth, with his famous aphorism, "L'Etat, C'est Moi."
In international affairs every treaty of peace, unless its termsare dictated by a strong power to a weak one, is a compromise between the opposing views of right and wrong held by the parties. Logically, the non-compromiser should be generally opposed to treaties, as involving necessarily some sacrifice of his principles of right to the demands of the other party. In the period from 1844 to 1846, we narrowly escaped war with England in the dispute over the boundary between ourselves and Canada, because a strong Jingo, non-compromising party started the popular cry of "Fifty-Four Forty or Fight." This class of thinkers would undoubtedly have opposed the celebrated compromises of Henry Clay, which, whatever might have been said against them at the time, have, in the light of history, the incalculable merit of having postponed the inevitable conflict between the North and the South, until the former had so grown in population and resources that it could preserve the unity of the nation. Considering the hard, and sometimes doubtful struggle, which the North went through in winning victory in the sixties, there can be little doubt that the result would have been two divided nations if the issues between the two sections had been submitted to the arbitrament of arms in 1820, in 1832, or even in 1850.
As the intolerance of the non-compromisers will lead some of them to oppose treaties of peace, so the same quality in others will lead them to make nuisances of themselves in war.
During the Great War, the nations, especially England and the United States, had considerable trouble with the "conscientious objector," who is really a non-compromiser under a different name. Supposing him to be honest in his opinions (as some of them were), the logic of his position was unanswerable from the view-point of the non-compromiser. War is unquestionably a great evil, and most obnoxious to the doctrines of the Sermon on the Mount. If there is to be no compromise with evil, then a Christian magistrate has no warrant to compel the conscientious objector to go out and slaughter, or give his help, directly or indirectly, towards the slaughter of his fellow Christians.
The true answer to this argument is, of course, obvious, although the magistrates, themselves infected with this pernicious, non-compromise doctrine, did not always make it.
In this fallible, imperfect human life, it is often necessary to compromise with evil—that is, as between two evils, to choose the less. Jesus both preached and practiced the doctrine of choosing the less evil, even in the extreme case of war. For He urged the spreading of His Gospel, although He foresaw that it would divide father from son and bring "fire" and a "sword" upon earth (Matt. X:34; Mark XIII:8; Luke XII:49). Now, in the case of this war, the vast majority of the nation has decided thatit is a less evil to go to war than to be enslaved by Germany. So, war it is to be. But it is unjust—an evil of the greatest magnitude—that a few individuals should reap all the benefits of preserving the nation from German slavery, without bearing the corresponding burdens. Consequently, the conscientious objectors must either submit to the decision of the majority or seek some other country, following the example of the Puritans, Huguenots and other "conscientious objectors" of past times.
It is apparent that if the door is once opened to allow people to shirk the civil duties imposed upon them by the society in which they live, the exemption cannot be limited to the case of war alone on the ground of their conscientious convictions. In the Supreme Court records of one of our States (possibly in several), there will be found a case where a man and woman (apparently respectable and generally law-abiding citizens) suffered a criminal conviction, because they had "conscientious objections" to legalizing their union by a conventional marriage ceremony. It is easy to imagine a man having conscientious objections to jury duty—the condemning men to death or imprisonment, or the transferring of property from one to another on account of the "technicalities" of the law. Or, why should a man not have conscientious objections to paying his taxes if they are to be used, in part at least, for a purpose which he considers evil? Evidently the field for evasion is a large one, and the only protection for society is to rigidly insist that the "conscientious objector," whether the case in hand be war or something else, either submit himself to the will of the majority or seek some other country more congenial to his peculiar ideas.
At the risk of repetition, we will collect again some of the utterances of Jesus which seem irreconcilable with the narrow, intolerant ideas of the non-compromisers and the sacro-sancts: Judge not, that ye be not judged; he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her; how wilt thou say to thy brother, let me pull the mote out of thine eye, and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye; blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy; blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God; whosoever, therefore, shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven; joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance; on these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets, viz., Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, soul and mind, and love thy neighbor as thyself.