v. We speak, therefore, not of what we know, but, as I have said, by an
act of faith, of that which would be _if_ we knew. In this attitude we make allowance for possible and probable defects in our sources: we make allowance for all the disturbing influences that have brought them into the shape in which we see them. But in doing this, we have the consolation of feeling that any element of mistake that has come in under this head has been all of the nature of _extension_. The miracles of primitive Christianity are certainly not a series of fictions. There certainly was among them a large nucleus of events that really had the character claimed for them, that were really due to the operation of a Divine cause, and really bore witness to the presence of such a cause. If there was anything beyond this of a less trustworthy character, we may be sure that it was framed on the analogy of that which is verifiable, or that would be verifiable if we possessed instruments and methods capable of dealing with it.
This principle of _extensions_ is, I believe, of the first importance in the scientific reconstruction of primitive Christianity. It at once explains and covers the transition from that which is permanent to that which is not permanent. It signifies ‘the removing of those things that are shaken, ... that those things which are not shaken may remain.’ As, for instance, in the case of the belief in Inspiration, there is undoubtedly a reality underlying the popular belief both of ancient and of modern times, so, also, in the case of miracle we may be sure that there is an inner reality, which no criticism will ever dissolve, though it may succeed in making us conscious that the descriptions of eighteen centuries ago no longer satisfy the thought of to-day.
iii. The Gospel embodies ocular Testimony.
For these reasons I do not wish it to be supposed that I regard all difficulties as removed and every question as closed, if I insist upon the conclusion that has so far seemed to be emerging from our study—the conclusion that the Gospel is the work of an eye-witness of the events, who is describing for us what he had himself actually seen. I do not want to use any kind of argumentative coercion. I fully believe that the author of the Gospel occupied this position; and yet I do not mean, by asserting this, to impose upon others the necessary consequence that everything happened (i. e. that we can realize it to ourselves as having happened) exactly as it is described. For my own part I abstain from attempting to re-write the narrative. I know that any such attempt is foredoomed to failure. Still more do I refuse to follow those who peremptorily dismiss all that they cannot understand. I cherish and value very highly the assurance that we have to do with the work of an eye-witness. And yet, as I have said, I accept the result with a certain reserve, with the consciousness that there is something unexplained and which I perhaps myself shall never be able to explain.
This does not prevent me from making what I can of the easier incidents, in which one seems to see one’s way more clearly. I will give an example. One of the great passages discussed at the outset of our inquiries is typical and significant in the light which it throws on the mental attitude of the writer. We are told how, as he stood at the foot of the Cross, he saw the side pierced, and blood and water flow from the wound. It is in connexion with this that we have one of those solemn asseverations (whether made by the writer for himself or by some one else for him) of the truth, resting upon his own ocular testimony, of the fact that he is recording. The whole incident evidently made a deep impression upon him, for he goes on to quote it as a direct fulfilment of two distinct passages of Scripture. And again, in his First Epistle, he refers to the peculiar phenomenon which he had seen as one that was fraught with mystical meaning.
Now physicians tell us that what the Evangelist actually saw was not, strictly and literally, what he has described. The efflux from the side was not exactly blood and water, though it might quite well have had an appearance like that of blood and water, and the Evangelist no doubt supposed it to be what he says. The blood was real blood, but that which looked like water was a sort of lymph or serum. This would serve equally well to suggest the train of thought which the Evangelist attached to it. It is easy to understand how what was for him a strange phenomenon at first struck the eye and then dwelt in his mind, and as he often returned to it and pondered over it, at last took definite shape, as a visible emblem, divinely produced, of a principle deeply rooted in the Christian religion, the principle that found expression in its two leading Sacraments.
Clearly here it is permissible to distinguish between the fact itself for which we have this explicit testimony, and the train of speculation to which it gave rise. The speculations are such as in all ages have naturally commended themselves to devout minds. There have always been those who have had so strong a sense of the unity of things, of the ‘pre-established harmony’ between the material and the spiritual, that the ‘outward shows’ of external nature ‘the earth and every common sight,’ have seemed to reflect and symbolize that which is unseen. We may well believe that there is broad fundamental truth underlying these dim intuitions, though it may be another thing to say that in any particular case the harmony that is guessed is precisely that which the Divine Artificer intended. But the point on which I should wish to lay stress is, that the order of thought is from the observed fact to the idea, and not backwards from the idea to a fact imagined to correspond with it. And in regard to the Fourth Gospel, I think we may lay down that the Evangelist always starts from something that he has seen. It is possible that his mind, acting retrospectively on his memory of the physical impression, may emphasize features in the impression that were not so distinct at the time when it was given. But the notion that the Gospel is a pure romance woven entirely out of the creations of the brain seems to me contrary to its whole character.
I do not wish at all to imply—I desire expressly to guard myself against implying—that other miracles in the Fourth Gospel can be explained so simply as that of the pierced side. On the wider question I have just said what I have to say. But for my present purpose, in its bearing upon the criticism of the Fourth Gospel, I content myself with maintaining, that St. John’s descriptions of the supernatural always start from facts that had come under his own personal observation, or that of others who were very near to him.
iv. A Patristic Parallel.
So far as the treatment of the supernatural has been made a ground of objection to the Gospel, I think we may take a warning from critical experience in another field. I quoted in the second Lecture several instances in which criticism has distinctly changed its mind and come back to a view far more in accordance with tradition than that which at one time prevailed. One of these instances was taken from the literature of the beginnings of Monasticism, and more particularly from the _Vita Antonii_ ascribed to St. Athanasius. I pointed out how the whole class of literature to which this treatise belongs has been definitely set upon its feet again. After being at one time very radically treated, it is now widely accepted as in great part resting upon good first-hand authority. One of the arguments alleged against the Athanasian treatise turned upon the miracles contained in it. But at the present time that argument would be differently stated. Whereas it used to run, This treatise contains miracles of a kind that must be unhistorical, and therefore it cannot be the genuine work of St. Athanasius; now it would run, This treatise is certainly a genuine work of St. Athanasius, and therefore we must make of the miracles what we can: a judicious estimate of them is given by Dom Cuthbert Butler in his _Lausiac History of Palladius_ (1898), pp. 192-6. In like manner I should like to reverse the objection that is often brought against the Fourth Gospel and to say, that there is strong reason for regarding it as a first-hand authority, and that the recognition of this should be a postulate of any examination of its bearing upon the question of the supernatural.
I observe that at the Church Congress recently held at Liverpool, in the discussion on New Testament Criticism, Mr. F. C. Burkitt made use of an argument very similar to this, and that exception was taken to it at the end of the debate by the Bishop of Salisbury, on the ground that the miracles in the Gospels and in the _Historia Lausiaca_ are too different to be compared. Of course I perfectly acknowledge the difference. I would not for a moment wish to press the argument for more than it is worth. At the same time, it seems to me that we must not despise the day of small things; we must not reject an analogy simply because it is incomplete. It rarely happens that an analogy entirely covers that with which it is compared. Many an argument is employed _a minori ad maius_; and I do not doubt that it was in that sense that Mr. Burkitt wished his words to be taken, as I should wish mine.
Footnote 54:
_Theol. Literaturzeitung_, 1893, col. 181 ff.
LECTURE VI THE DOCTRINE OF THE LOGOS, AND ITS INFLUENCE ON THE GOSPEL
The Fourth Gospel is like one of those great Egyptian temples which we may see to this day at Dendera or Edfu or Karnak—and we remember that the Temple on Mount Zion itself was of the same general type—the sanctuary proper is approached through a pylon, a massive structure overtopping it in height and outflanking it on both sides. The pylon of the Fourth Gospel is of course the Prologue; and this raises at the outset two important questions: I. What are the affinities of its leading thought; or, in other words, what is its place in the history of thought and the history of religion? and II. In what relation does the prologue stand to the rest of the Gospel? I need not say that both these points have been, and are being still, actively debated.
I. Affinities of the Logos doctrine.
The preponderance of opinion at the present time doubtless leans to the view that there is some connexion between the Logos of Philo and the doctrine of the Logos in the Fourth Gospel. But the question is as to the nature and closeness of that connexion. On this many shades of opinion are possible.
1. Partial parallels in O. T. and Judaism.
If the Logos of St. John is not connected with that of Philo, the alternative must be that its origin is Palestinian. The directions in which we should look would be to the Old Testament, the Apocrypha, and the _Memra_ of the Targums. And it is true that there are many places in these writings in which ‘the Word of God’ is used with pregnant meaning.
Ps. xxxiii. 6: ‘By the word of the Lord were the heavens made; and all the host of them by the breath of His mouth.’ Cf. 2 Esdras vi. 43: ‘As soon as thy word went forth the work was done.’
Ps. cvii. 20: ‘He sendeth his word, and healeth them, and delivereth them from their destructions.’
Ps. cxlvii. 15: ‘He sendeth out his commandment upon earth; his word runneth very swiftly.’
Ps. cxlvii. 18: ‘He sendeth out his word, and melteth them; he causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow.’
Isa. xl. 8: ‘The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever.’
Isa. lv. 10, 11: ‘For as the rain cometh down and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, and giveth seed to the sower and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: It shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.’
Wisd. ix. 1: ‘O God of the fathers, and Lord who keepest thy mercy, who madest all things by thy word.’
Wisd. xvi. 12: ‘For of a truth it was neither herb nor mollifying plaister that cured them, but thy word, O Lord, which healeth all things.’
Wisd. xviii. 15, 16: ‘Thine all-powerful word leaped from heaven out of the royal throne, a stern warrior, into the midst of the doomed land, bearing as a sharp sword thine unfeigned commandment; and standing it filled all things with death; and while it touched the heaven it trode upon the earth.’
This last passage goes furthest in the way of personification. But in the other passages there is a tendency—we can hardly call it more—to objectify the ‘word of God’ and to treat it as though it had a substantive existence. This is, however, still some way short of the Logos both of St. John and of Philo.
Rather more may be said of the _Memra_ of the Targums. These writings are indeed, in their extant form, of uncertain date. And yet I suspect, though I cannot prove, that our present texts faithfully preserve the interpretative tradition of the synagogues. The same tendencies were at work as far back as the beginning of the Christian era, and the probabilities are that they expressed themselves in the same way. The Jews were a conservative people; and the ‘tradition of the elders’ went on continuously without any real break.
We are always hampered by our want of knowledge. The works of Philo bulk large upon our shelves, and their contents naturally impress the imagination. Of the state of thought in Syria and Palestine we have far scantier information. I believe it to be possible that a doctrine like that of the Philonian Logos was more widely diffused than we suppose. After all Philo grounded his use of the term largely upon the Stoics; and the Stoics were spread all over the Roman Empire; they were strong in Asia Minor. At the same time we should not be justified in drawing too much upon conjecture, where we have positive data in our hands. So far as Palestine goes, we have traces of a tendency but not of a system. In both Philo and St. John we have what might really be called a system. This creates a presumption that the connexion between them is not accidental.
The example of St. Paul may show us what an active stimulus to thought had been given by Christianity. In his case we see what far-reaching consequences were drawn from concentrated reflexion upon single detached verses of the Jewish Scriptures. We must not wholly put aside the possibility that the author of the Fourth Gospel let his thoughts work in the same manner. We shall see presently that on some important topics he has certainly done so. Still, if the doctrines of Philo came in his way, the easier hypothesis would be that he was influenced by them. The work of construction would in that case be lighter for him; he would find the half of it done ready to his hand.
2. The Evangelist not a philosopher.
It is a distinct question in what form we are to conceive of Philo’s teaching as coming before him. The author of the Fourth Gospel was a thinker, but not a professed philosopher. So far as we can judge from the writings of his that have come down to us, we should not be inclined to credit him with much philosophical erudition. The idea that we form to ourselves of the Evangelist is not that of a great reader always poring over books. I find it hard to think of him as sitting down to a deliberate study of the Jewish scholar’s voluminous treatises. The mental habits of the two men are too different. The Evangelist has a shorter and more direct way of getting at the truth. He was more like the old Ionian philosophers, who looked up to the sky and out upon the earth, and set down the thoughts that rose in them in short loosely connected aphorisms. The author of the Fourth Gospel did not look so much without as within: he sank into his own consciousness, and at last brought out to light what he found there. He dwelt upon the past until it became luminous to him; and then he took up the pen.
We will consider presently what sort of hypothesis we may form as to the process by which the Evangelist came to assimilate Philonian ideas, if he did assimilate them. But it may be well, first, to try to realize rather more exactly the extent of the agreement and difference between the two writers.
3. Points of Agreement with Philo.
And, first, as to the agreement. I have said that Philo’s philosophy, in spite of its decorative exuberance and prolixity, is yet at bottom a system. And in the main outline of that system the Evangelist coincides with him.
By the side of the Eternal, Philo has what he himself called ‘a second God’ (πρὸς τὸν δεύτερον θεόν, ὅς ἔστιν ἐκείνου λόγος Grill, _Entstehung d. vierten Evang._ p. 109); and this second God he called ‘the Divine Word.’ The Word was Himself God (καλεῖ δὲ θεὸν τὸν πρεσβύτατον αὐτοῦ νυνὶ λόγον, ibid.). The Word was the agent or instrument (ὄργανον) in creation (ibid., p. 110).
The action of the Word is not infrequently compared to that of Light; and although it is nowhere said that the Word is Life[55], there are contexts in which the ideas of light and life appear in connexion[56]. In like manner there is a certain amount of parallelism for the idea of the Word coming to his own and being rejected; it is the Word that makes the mind receptive of good; there are some who may be fitly called ‘sons of God,’ and those for whom this title is too high may at least model themselves after the pattern of the Word. The parallels for the later part of the Prologue are slighter, until we come to the last verse (ver. 18). Philo fully shares the conception of the transcendence of God, and speaks of the Logos as His ‘prophet’ and ‘interpreter[57].’
There are many coincidences of idea in the attributes ascribed to the Logos, as existing in heaven, as revealing the name of God, as possessing supernatural knowledge and power, as continually at work, as eternal, as free from sin, as instructing and convincing, as dwelling in the souls of men, as high priest towards God, as the source of unity, of joy and peace, as imparting eternal life, as bridegroom, father, guide, steersman, shepherd, physician, as imparting manna, the food of the soul[58].
I am by no means clear that the case for the connexion of the Logos of St. John with the Logos of Philo is really much strengthened by these parallels. If we ask ourselves whether they necessarily imply literary dependence, I think we should have to answer in the negative. We have to remember that Philo and St. John alike have the Old Testament behind them. Whatever is suggested by this may as well come from it directly, and not through a further literary medium. And, when once we have the idea of the Logos, there are a number of epithets and metaphors that would go with it almost of themselves.
4. Absence of Philonian Catch-words.
On the other hand, when we examine the parallels adduced in detail, we cannot help noticing that many catch-words of the Philonian doctrine are entirely absent from the Fourth Gospel: πρεσβύτατος in many connexions (Grill, p. 106); πρεσβύτατος υἱός (p. 107); πρωτόγονος (pp. 106, 107); μέσος τῶν ἅκρων, ἀμφοτέροις ὁμηρεύων (p. 106); λόγος ἀίδιος, ὁ ἐγγυτάτω (sc. θεοῦ), εἰκὼν ὑπάρχων θεοῦ (a term which occurs in St. Paul and in the Epistle to the Hebrews, but not in St. John); λόγος ἀρχέτυπος, σκιὰ θεοῦ (p. 108); μεθόριος στάς, μεθόριός τις θεοῦ (καὶ ἀνθρώπου) φυύις (pp. 109 f.); τῆς μακαρίας φύσεως ἐκμαγεῖον ἢ ἀπόσπασμα ἢ ἀπαύγασμα (p. 115); λόγος ἀόρατος καὶ σπερματικὸς καὶ τεχνικὸς καὶ θεῖος (p. 112).
Among these expressions are several that at an early date entered into Christian literature, but they are not found in the Fourth Gospel.
It is probably to such examples as these that Dr. Drummond refers when he speaks of ‘the total absence of Philo’s special vocabulary not only in relation to God, but in regard to the Logos’ (_Character_, &c., p. 24).
5. More fundamental differences.
It is of yet more importance that the conception of the Logos in Philo and in the Fourth Gospel presents great and fundamental differences.
I do not feel compelled to number among these that particular difference which is at once the most obvious and the most comprehensive. It is of course true that the Evangelist identifies the Logos with the person of Jesus Christ, whereas it is doubtful how far the Philonian Logos is to be regarded as in any sense personal. We always need to remember that the whole category of personality was wanting at the time when Philo wrote. The question whether such a conception as that of the Logos is personal, naturally forces itself upon us; we have a name for it, and we are accustomed to think of things as either personal or impersonal. Philo, on the contrary, had neither the name nor the idea corresponding to the name. Hence we are not surprised to find his language fluctuating, to find him sometimes write as though the Logos were personal, and sometimes as though it were not. Where there is no clearly drawn boundary line between two ideas, it is easy to pass from one to the other without being aware of it.
With St. John the conditions are different. In any case it was he who took the decisive step of identifying the Divine Word with the person of Christ. Having once done this, his language necessarily became fixed; the ambiguities which attached to Philo’s teaching were for him so far at an end. The personal element in the Johannean conception belongs not to the idea of the Logos but to the historical Christ; the originality of the Evangelist consists in uniting the Christ of history with the idea of the Logos, but whether that idea were personal or impersonal as it came to him was of secondary importance.
The divergence is really more significant when we observe that the Logos idea itself has a different content. The central point in Philo’s conception is the philosophic idea of the Divine reason; the centre of St. John’s is the religious idea of the Divine word, Divine utterance, creative, energizing, revealing. If we for a moment cease to think of the hypostatic and mediating aspect of the Word and dwell rather on the attributes and functions associated with it, we find ourselves naturally deserting Philo and going back to the Old Testament. When we glance over the string of passages quoted above, we see in them a truer counterpart to the real meaning of the Prologue. Ps. xxxiii. 6, with 2 Esdras vi. 43; Ps. cxlvii. 15, 18; Wisd. ix. 1, bring out the creative activity of the Word; [Num. xi. 23; Hos. vi. 5]; Isa. xl. 8; lv. 10, 11; Wisd.