Part 20
And where is the design in the thousands of facts which science has brought to light, showing that there are organs and parts that serve no purpose at all, but on the contrary, are injurious to their possessors? Why do some animals, like the dugong, have tusks that never cut through the gums? Why has the guinea pig teeth that are shed before it is born? Science tells us these rudimentary structures are the remnants of a former state, in which these parts were of service; but theology, which requires us to believe that a God made all these animals as we now see them, cannot possibly reconcile these facts with infinite wisdom and goodness.
Adaptation in organisms instead of having been produced by a Deity, we hold is largely the result of natural selection. Adaptation must exist as the adjustment of objects to their environments. If a flock of sheep be exposed to the weather of a severe climate, those of them having the thinnest wool, affording the least protection from the cold, will perish. Those with the thickest wool and hardiest nature will survive every year, and by the law of heredity, transmit their favorable variations. By this process those best adapted to the climate live, and the others perish. Thus in the struggle for life we have the "survival of the fittest," without any design whatever. But the theologian comes along and looking at the sheep, says: "See how God has adapted these sheep to the climate." He forgets the thousands that have shivered and perished in winter's cold as the condition of this adaptation. So animals change the color of their coverings in accordance with their environments. The bears among the icebergs of the North are white, because in the struggle for life every light variation has been favorable to the animal--has facilitated its escape from the hunter and its preying upon the living things upon which it subsists. Those with darker coverings have gradually become extinct, leaving in undisputed possession of the snow banks and icebergs this species, which in color resembles the general aspect of its surroundings. Look at the rabbits. Some change their color every year; some are brown in the summer and white like the snow in winter. Those with this tendency to change their color during the year, having the most favorable variation, have persisted, and this tendency, by heredity, has been accumulated, until it has become a part of the nature of the animal.
These are but illustrations of a principle discovered by Darwin and Wallace, which explains largely how, not only color and thickness of coverings, but speed, strength and suppleness of body, keenness of sight and hearing, and all other parts and powers of organism have been developed in adaptation to their environment, without any special design whatever.
It is said we have no evidence of the eternal existence of the universe, because we have no personal observation of it. But is there any personal observation to prove the existence of an eternal God? Yet it is believed in by our opponents. We believe the universe always has existed in the past, because we see no trace of a beginning; we believe it will always exist in the future, because we see no prospect or possibility of an end. Worlds have their formation and dissolution; but the substance is neither augmented nor diminished. Matter is indestructible and eternal. We are not, therefore, in need of a creator.
B. F. Underwood.
Do the natural affairs of this world show a designer? Is there a conscious intelligence at work guiding all the affairs of this world? We see no evidence of a wise and benevolent design in the creation of wild, ravenous birds and beasts of prey. We fail to see anything like a kind providence in earthquakes, volcanoes, floods, tidal-waves, storms at sea, drouth, famine, and pestilence. Is there a supreme intelligence which causes monstrosities, sends epidemics, horrid diseases, plants parasites upon the human body? Are lice, tape-worms, bed-bugs, fleas, flies, grasshoppers, and mosquitoes "blessings in disguise?" Are abject poverty and misery divine blessings? Is ignorance a gracious boon in mercy sent? Pain and misery are not exceptional features of man's life on earth, but they are chief characteristics of it. Are some unconscious of their degradation? Shall we infer therefrom that ignorance is bliss? If this unconsciousness of degradation on the part of some shall be considered as evidence of a benevolent designer, then what shall we say in the case of those who are conscious of their degradation?
"If," says Haeckel, "we contemplate the common life and mutual relations between plants and animals (man included) we shall find everywhere and at all times, the very opposite of that kindly and peaceful social life which the goodness of the creator ought to have prepared for his creatures: we shall rather find everywhere a pitiless, most embittered struggle of all against all." Large fish eat small ones, large birds devour the smaller, and the ferocious beasts of prey live upon the weaker and less fleet animals. In this struggle for existence there is one perpetual battle; the smaller, weaker and less fleet are captured and devoured by the stronger, and man destroys and eats any of them at his pleasure.
Is there a display of intelligence and benevolent design in creating man with strength and wisdom to slaughter his prey at will? Then where is the benevolence of design in creating the animals to be thus slaughtered?
The universe, we shall find, does not exhibit evidence of a conscious intelligent design. Says Shelley: "We must prove design before we can infer a designer."
Mr. Talmage insists that it takes no especial brain to reason out a "design" in nature, and in a moment afterward says: "When the world slew Jesus, it showed what it would do with the eternal God if once it could get its hands upon him." Why should a God of infinite wisdom create people who would gladly murder their creator? Was there any particular "design" in that? Does the existence of such people conclusively prove the existence of a good designer? ("Ingersoll's Interviews," p. 46.)
Providence.
Religious people see Providence in everything. Strange it is, too, that the most marked displays of Providence are seen in shipwrecks, railroad collisions, or in all devastating fires, floods, and plagues. In such appalling calamities as lead most sensible men to say with Æneas, "If there be gods, they certainly take no interest in the affairs of men," the Christian sees proof of a good guardian, a saving God, where nothing but destruction and ruin mark his pathway. There is a strange fatuity manifested by believers in this doctrine. Not long since a young man died very suddenly in Boston. There was a post-mortem examination by regular physicians, and a coroner's jury, who mutually deliberated over the body as to the cause of its death. The doctors found the young man's stomach somewhat irritated. On close inspection the contents of the stomach were found to be a mixture of bread and butter, mince pie and coffee, ham and eggs, buckwheat cakes, oyster stew, plum pudding, pound cake, corned beef, ice cream, more mince pie, and baked beans.
The jury gave the case most grave and deliberate consideration, and in accordance therewith returned the verdict: "Came to his death by a mysterious dispensation of the afflictive hand of Providence." Just so! Anything, however evil, unjust or foolish may be attributed to Providence; yet he remains both wise and good.
Why, if this world is created and controlled by infinite wisdom and benevolence, are not all things beautiful? One of man's noblest endeavors is to beautify. But we see many flowers and plants which are not beautiful.
Many parts of the earth are inhospitable and forbidding. What beauties on the other hand lie buried at the bottom of the ocean, its flora, shells, and corals! But no human eye ever sees them. Wherein is the evidence of design? Where is the evidence of design in the horrid monsters which once filled the oceans? Where is the design in creating such monstrosities as we see among animals?
Did the designer intend that parasites should infest the human body? The creator made the parasites (lice) and their proper dwelling-place seems to be the human body. The human body gives them their proper food. They are so constituted as to reproduce themselves rapidly and thus persist in feeding upon man.
The question is immediately raised: "Were the lice made for man, or man for the lice?" When did it ever occur to a sane mind that bed-bugs and mosquitoes and fleas were created with a benevolent design?
These facts are irreconcileable with the notion of a supreme and beneficent Providence.
Where is the evidence of benevolent design in earthquakes, floods, volcanoes, drouth, famine, and ten thousand ills which flesh is heir to? Where is the moral purpose? Where is the benevolence in peopling the earth with millions of human beings who live lives of poverty and misery?
But it is argued that we cannot see it all now, but by and by it will be made plain to us, that is, when we get into the other world. This is begging the question. The Christian says creation shows a creator, who first created the universe and now presides over it. But when we bring the facts of this world, its abounding evils and human miseries, to show the absence of any benevolent superintendence, he promises to make good his argument in the next world. This is asking a fellow to wait too long. Again, it is argued by the Christian that God ordained pain to work out good; but how comes it that this ordination of working good out of evil does not take place? Sometimes one man is made better by it, and another is brutalized by it. How does this come to pass if pain was ordained to work good? Has the plan of the designer failed? "The evils of this world are ordained for the purpose of developing our souls; only by pain and suffering can we be prepared for heaven." Little children who die, according to this dogma, can never be developed.
Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall to the ground without your Father? (Mat. 10 : 29.)
But sparrows do fall to the ground nevertheless. And if some do not fall to the ground that wicked bird the sparrow-hawk, devours them sometimes before they have an opportunity to fall. It is the same wise and kind Providence who makes the sparrow and the sparrow-hawk, but perhaps the poor sparrow does not recognize the wisdom and mercy of having a destroyer. But our good Christian friends will have it that all things come to pass by the direct control of an all-wise and all-good Providence. The Chicago fire, the Boston fire, and others are all dispensations of Providence, if we may believe the ministers, and they are the only ones who pretend to have positive information of the facts. The bursting of a mill-dam, or a tidal-wave, or anything and everything else that carries the besom of destruction to thousands is to them a well-known intervention of the hand of a wise and merciful Providence. It is the same, with good fortune; if we as a people have great prosperity, large harvests and abundance of trade, it is because of this "All-wise Providence." He brings the evil and the good, miseries and joys, sins and salvation.
How do we know there is a kind Providence watching over this world? "Oh!" says our Christian friend, "we see this manifested in the kindly adaptations of nature to man's conditions, everything seems to have been made for man's comfort." But, this general adaptation of man to nature and of nature to man, proves nothing of a conscious intelligence ruling over the universe. The maggot in the cheese might look around him and say, if he could talk: "All this cheese was made for me, because it's perfectly adapted to my wants and conditions." Man and maggot are adapted to their surroundings, because their surroundings have made them what they are.
After attempting to prove the existence of a special Providence, and failing, the Christian then craw-fishes into absurd talk of a mysterious Providence, a dark dispensation of Providence, an inscrutable Providence, an inexplicable Providence. And when driven from this refuge, he at last exclaims: "Well, if it all seems dark and hidden from our understanding here, it will all be made clear when we pass over to the other side." Yes, but you admit by this statement that you know now positively nothing of a conscious intelligence ruling the universe, why not say so?
The fundamental idea of a special Providence, is that he prevents accidents; but in spite of special Providence, accidents do occur. And even these mishaps, which show that no such thing as Providence exists, are claimed by the superstitious as proof of a mysterious Providence.
Francis Bacon says: "We shall do well to bear in mind the ancient story of one who in Pagan times was shown a temple with a picture of all the persons who had been saved from shipwreck, after paying their vows. When asked whether he did acknowledge the power of the gods, "Aye," he answered, "but where are they painted who were drowned after their vows?" (Jevon's "Principles of Science," part 2, p. 5.)
We learn from the little care which nature takes of single individuals. Thousands of them are sacrificed without hesitation or repentance in the plenty of nature. Even with regard to man we make the same experience. Not one half of the human race reach the second year of their age, but die almost without having known that they ever lived. We learn this very thing also from the misfortunes and mishaps of all men, the good as well as the bad, which cannot well be made to agree with the special preservation or co-operation of the creator. (Feuerbach's "Essence of Religion.")
But with the conception of a supreme beneficence this gratuitous infliction of misery, in common with other terrestrial creatures capable of feeling, is also absolutely incompatible.--Spencer.
In short, there can be no hypothesis of a "moral government" of the world which does not implicitly assert an "immoral government." (Fisk's "Cosmic Philosophy," vol. 2, p. 407.)
But the believer in the inspiration of the Bible is compelled to declare that there was a time when slavery was right--when men could buy, and women could sell, their babes. He is compelled to insist that there was a time when Polygamy was the highest form of virtue; when wars of extermination were waged with the sword of mercy; when religious toleration was a crime, and when death was the just penalty for having expressed an honest thought. He must maintain that Jehovah is just as bad now as he was four thousand years ago, or that he was just as good then as he is now, but that human conditions have so changed that slavery, polygamy, religious persecutions, and wars of conquest are now perfectly devilish. Once they were right--once they were commanded by God himself; now, they are prohibited. There has been such a change in the conditions of man that, at the present time, the Devil is in favor of slavery, polygamy, religious persecution, and wars of conquest. That is to say, the Devil entertains the same opinion to-day that Jehovah held four thousand years ago, but in the meantime Jehovah has remained exactly the same--changeless and incapable of change.... A very curious thing about these commandments is that their supposed author violated nearly every one. From Sinai, according to the account, he said: "Thou shalt not kill," and yet he ordered the murder of millions; "Thou shalt not commit adultery," and yet he gave captured maidens to gratify the lust of captors; "Thou shalt not steal," and yet he gave to Jewish marauders the flocks and herds of others; "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, nor his wife," and yet he allowed his chosen people to destroy the homes of neighbors and to steal their wives; "Honor thy father and thy mother," and yet this same God had thousands of fathers butchered, and with the sword of war killed children yet unborn; "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor," and yet he sent abroad "lying spirits" to deceive his own prophets, and in a hundred ways paid tribute to deceit. So far as we know, Jehovah kept only one of these commandments--he worshipped no other God. ("Ingersoll's Reply to Black.")
It is said of Christ that he was infinitely kind and generous, infinitely merciful because when on earth he cured the sick, the lame, and the blind. Has he not as much power now as he had then? If he has and is the God of all worlds, why does he not now give back to the widow her son? Why does he withhold light from the blind, and why does one who had the power miraculously to feed thousands allow millions to die for want of food? Where is he now? ("Ingersoll's Interviews.")
First Cause.
Assuming then, the existence of a First Cause, let us inquire for a moment into its nature. The First Cause must be infinite. For if we regard it as finite, we regard it as bounded or limited, and are thus compelled to think of a region beyond its limits, which region is uncaused. And if we admit this, we virtually abandon the doctrine of causation altogether. We, therefore, have no alternative but to regard the First Cause an infinite.
We are no less irresistibly compelled to regard the First Cause as independent. For if it be dependent, that on which it depends must be the First Cause. The First Cause can therefore have no necessary relation to any other form of being; since if the presence of any other form of existence is necessary to its completeness, it is partially dependent upon such other form of existence, and cannot be the First Cause. Thus the First Cause, besides being infinite, must be complete in itself, existing independently of all relations,--that is, it must be absolute.
To such conclusions, following the most refined metaphysical philosophy of the day, are we easily led. By the very limitations of our faculties, we are compelled to think of a First Cause of all phenomena; and we are compelled to think of it as both infinite and absolute.
Nevertheless, it will not be difficult to show that such a conclusion is utterly illusive; and that in joining together, the three conceptions of Cause, of Infinite, and of Absolute, we have woven for ourselves a net-work of contradictions, more formidable, more disheartening than any that we have yet been required to contemplate. For, in the first place, that which is a cause cannot at the same time be absolute. For the definition of the Absolute is that which exists out of all relations; whereas a cause not only sustains some definite relation to its effect, but it exists as a cause only by virtue of such relation. Suppress the effect, and the cause has ceased to be a cause. The phrase "absolute cause," therefore, which is equivalent to "non-relative cause," is like the phrase "circular triangle." The two words stand for conceptions which cannot be made to unite. "We attempt," says Mr. Mansel, "to escape from this apparent contradiction by introducing the idea of succession in time. The Absolute exists first by itself, and afterwards becomes a cause. But here, we are checkmated by the third conception, that of the Infinite. How can the Infinite become that which it was not from the first? If causation is a possible mode of existence, that which exists without causing is not infinite; that which becomes a cause has passed beyond its former limits.
"But supposing all these obstacles overcome, so that we might frame a valid conception of a cause which is also absolute and infinite: have we then explained the origin of the universe? Have we advanced one step toward explaining how the Absolute can be the source of the Relative, or how the Infinite can give rise to the Finite?" To continue with Mr. Mansel, "if the condition of causal activity is a higher state than that of quiescence, the Absolute ... has passed from a condition of comparative imperfection to one of comparative perfection; and therefore was not originally perfect. If the state of activity is an inferior state to that of quiesence, the Absolute in becoming a cause has lost its original perfection. There remains only the supposition that the two states are equal, and the act of creation one of complete indifference. But this supposition annihilates the unity of the Absolute." (John Fiske, "Cosmic Philosophy.")
THE SUNDAY QUESTION.
It is related that once upon a time, a number of grave and reverend rabbins earnestly disputed among themselves, whether it was lawful or not to eat an egg that was laid upon the Sabbath day. In the minds of some of these grave and wise masters it was held to be a prohibited egg, but in the stomachs of others of their number such eggs were held as too good to be despised.
In the Blue Laws of Connecticut by Rev. Sam Peters, we have Puritan scruples put in rhyme:
"Upon the Sabbath day they'll no physick take, Lest it should worke, and so the Sabbath breake."
There have always been great disputes over this subject which we call in general terms the "Sunday Question." Why do so many misunderstandings arise upon this matter? Simply because people do not understand the question. Millions of devout worshippers use the terms Sunday and Sabbath as if they were synonymous. Millions of superstitious persons cherish obligations to maintain better conduct on Sunday than on any other day in the week. They cannot understand that it is fit and proper to do on Sunday anything that it is fit and proper to do on any other day. The tendency to perform the duties of life correctly on Sunday leaves room and disposition not to perform them so well on the other six days of the week. Such people live cream lives on Sunday and skim-milk lives all the rest of the week. It won't do; because it tends to demoralize rather than establish the noble sentiments of morality and manhood. If we would know how to observe Sunday we must know something more about it than we have unconsciously learned from the nursery stories of our childhood. Let us begin with the names of
The Days of the Week.