Part 14

Besides, the mind, which loves to justify itself in all its operations, finding but little real use or worth in these disquisitions, strives to make itself amends by placing an imaginary value upon them; and grows so much the more enamoured of them, as it foresees and expects the neglect and indifference of other men.

Hence, the sufficiency of such persons as wholly employ their time and pains in the more abstract studies, in the minuter parts of learning, and universally in such inquiries as terminate only or chiefly in curiosity and amusement, is more than ordinarily glaring and offensive. Their minds are _puffed up_ with immoderate conceptions of their own importance; and this unnatural tumour they are neither able, nor willing, to conceal from others. The secret is, they would persuade themselves first, and then the world, that their studies and occupations are less frivolous, than they in earnest believe or suspect them, at least, to be.

Now, Charity, indisposing us to these fruitless speculations, and delighting to cultivate such parts of knowledge as have a real dignity in them, and are productive of light and use, tends directly to keep us modest, by taking away this so natural temptation to pride and self-conceit.

4. Further, we may observe that, of the more important studies themselves, such as we call _practical_, are less liable to this perversion of vanity, than the speculative, to what important ends soever they may ultimately be referred. And the reason of the difference is, that, in the former case, the calls of charity upon us are more instant. We cannot stir a step in practical meditations without considering what use and benefit may result from them: while the speculative seem to terminate in themselves; are pursued, for the time at least, for their own sakes; and so, by keeping the ultimate end out of sight, do not divert the mind enough from that complacent attention to its own ingenious researches, whence the passion of pride is apt to take its rise.

Not but there are some parts of knowledge, which, though called practical, and referring indeed to practice, have a different effect. But these are such, as are in their own nature boastful and ostentatious; calculated not so much for use, as pleasure; or, at most, terminating in some private and selfish end. The proficients in these popular arts and studies are tempted to regard, not the good _simply_, which their knowledge might do to others, but the general influence of it, and the consideration, which, by means of such influence, whether to a good or bad purpose, they may draw to themselves.

Of this sort was, too commonly, the study of eloquence in the ancient, and sometimes, I doubt, in the modern world. Vanity is apt to mix itself with these practical studies, and to result from them; the question generally being, not how the greatest good may be effected by them, but how the greatest impression may be made.

Divine and moral subjects, _practically_ considered (though vanity may creep in here), are more secure from this abuse. For, respecting the spiritual and moral good of men, distinctly and exclusively, a regard to the end must correct and purify the means. And thus we are not surprised to find, that, while a vain rhetorician[132] is said to have boasted, in the hearing of all Greece, that _he knew every thing_, the sober moralist of Athens[133] readily confessed, _he knew nothing_.

5. Another way, in which _charity_ operates to the suppression of _pride_, is, _by increasing our good opinion of other men_. _Pride_ is an elation of mind upon comparing ourselves with others, and observing how much we excel them in any respect; and, in the present instance, how much we excel them in point of _knowledge_. When the mind is wholly occupied by _self-love_, it easily magnifies its own attainments, and as easily diminishes those of others: whence the advantage, on a comparison, must needs be to _itself_. But when _charity_, or the love of others, prevails in us to any degree, we are willing to do them _justice_ at least, and _but_ justice to ourselves: nay, our affection to others makes us willing to see their good qualities in the fairest light, to magnify to ourselves their excellencies, and to lessen or overlook their defects; while on the other hand, it inclines us readily to forego any undue claims of pre-eminence, and even to abate something of what we might strictly claim to ourselves: whence the comparison must be more favourable to _others_; and our pride, if not entirely prevented, must be considerably reduced. Increase this charity, and the pride still lessens; till, at length, it is almost literally true, as the Apostle divinely expresses it, that, _in lowliness of mind, each esteems other better than himself_; _better_, in respect to _knowledge_, as to every thing else.

6. Lastly, charity, not only by its qualities, but in the _very nature of things_, is destructive of all _pride_. For what is pride, but an immoderate _love_ of ourselves? And what is charity, but a fervent _love_ of other men? It is the same passion of love, only directed to different objects. When it is concentred in a man’s self, it naturally grows abundant and excessive: divert some part of it upon others, and the selfish love is proportionably restrained. Just as seas and rivers would overflow their shores and banks, if they had no outlet or circulation: but issuing forth in useful streams or vapours to refresh the land, they are kept in due proportion, and neither deluge the rest of the globe, nor drain themselves. Thus the affection of _love_, if too much confined, would overflow in _pride and arrogance_; but, when part of it is diffused on others, the rest is innoxious and even salutary, as supplying the mind only with a _just and moderate self-esteem_.

Hence we see that charity, by its very operation, corrects the excesses of self-love; and therefore of learned pride (which is _one_ of those excesses) as well as any other vice, which the confined and inordinate exercise of that passion is apt to produce.

In these several ways then, whether, by prescribing the proper _end_ of knowledge, _the edification of our neighbour_, an attention to which must needs lessen the temptation to pride; or, by suggesting how _imperfectly_ that end is attained by knowledge, which must mortify, rather than inflame our pride; or, by confining the candidates of knowledge _to solid and important subjects_, and, of _these_, rather to _practical_ subjects, than those of speculation, both which pursuits are unfavourable to the growth of pride; or, by increasing _our good opinion of others_, engaged in the same pursuits of knowledge, which must so far take from our fancied superiority over them; or, lastly, _by the necessary effect of its operation_, which is essentially destructive of that vicious self-love, which is the parent of such fancies—In _all_ these respects, I say, it is clearly seen how CHARITY, whose office it is to _edify_ others, is properly applied to the cure of that tumour of the mind, which knowledge generates, and which we know by the name of LEARNED PRIDE.

There are many other considerations, no doubt, which serve to mortify this pride; but nothing tends so immediately to remove it, as the increase of charity. It is therefore to be wished, that men, engaged in the pursuits of learning, would especially cultivate in themselves this divine principle. Knowledge, when tempered by humility, and directed to the ends of charity, is indeed a valuable acquisition; and, though no fit subject of vain-glory, is justly entitled to the esteem of mankind. It should further be remembered, that this virtue, which so much adorns knowledge, is the peculiar characteristic grace of our religion; without which, all our attainments, of whatever kind, are fruitless and vain. Let the man of Science, then, who has succeeded to his wish in rearing some mighty fabric of human knowledge, and from the top of it is tempted with a vain complacency to _look down_, as the phrase is, _on the ignorant vulgar_; let such an one not forget to say with HIM, who had been higher yet, even as high as _the third Heaven[134]_, “_Though I understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and have not charity, I am nothing_[135].”

SERMON XX.

PREACHED NOVEMBER 19, 1769.

ACTS OF THE APOSTLES, xxvi. 9.

_I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth._

The case of the Apostle, Paul, as represented by himself in these words, is so remarkable, that it cannot but deserve our attentive consideration.

The account of _those many things_, which he thought himself obliged _to do against the name of Jesus_, during his unbelieving state, he gives us in the chapter whence the text is taken. _These things_, continues he in his apology to king Agrippa, _I did in Jerusalem, and many of the Saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority from the chief-priests; and when they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And punished them oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme; and being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them, even to strange cities._ And then he proceeds to speak of his going, with the same authority, and the same zeal, to persecute the Christians that were at Damascus; when, in his journey thither, he was suddenly stopt in the career of his impiety by _a heavenly vision_, which had the effect to overturn his former persuasion, and to make a full convert of him to the Christian faith.

1. From this account of himself, we learn, that Paul, in his Jewish state, had been carried, by his zeal, into all the horrors of persecution. And _these things_, he says, _he verily believed he ought to do, contrary to the name of Jesus_.

“But what, you will ask, did this _belief_ then justify those crimes? And, are blasphemy, murder, and persecution, innocent things, from the time that a man persuades himself he ought to commit them? This would open a door to all the evils of the most outrageous fanaticism, and evacuate the whole moral law, under the pretence of conscience.”

In general, it would do so: and we shall presently find, that St. Paul does not pretend to justify _himself_, notwithstanding _he verily believed he ought to do these things_. But to see the degree of his crime, it will be convenient, and but just to the criminal, to call to mind, in the first place, the peculiar circumstances under which it was committed.

Paul was at that time a Jew; and, as a follower of this law, his conduct, supposing his conscience to have been rightly informed, had not been blameable; on the contrary, had been highly meritorious. For the law of Moses made the restraint of opinions, in matter of religion, lawful: Heterodoxy was to a Jew but another word for disloyalty; and a zeal to see the rigour of the law executed on that crime, was the honour of a Jewish subject. Paul, then, conceiving of Jesus as a false prophet, and the author of a new worship, contrary to that of the God of Israel, Paul, I say, regarding Jesus in this light, but conformed to the spirit of the law, when he joined in persecuting the Jewish Christians, and must esteem himself to have deserved well of it.

And this he, in fact, did. For, reckoning up the several merits, which, as a Jew, he might claim to himself, he mentions this zeal of persecution, as one, which did him honour, under that character—_Concerning zeal_, says he, PERSECUTING THE CHURCH[136].

The crime of Paul, then, as of the other Jews, in persecuting Christ and his religion, was not _simply_ the crime of persecution (for, had that religion been a false one, by the peculiar structure of the Jewish œconomy, there would have been no crime at all in punishing such of the Jews, as professed themselves of it); but his guilt was, and, in general, the guilt of the other Jews was, in misapplying the law to this particular case; in persecuting a just and divine person, whom their own prophets had foretold and pointed out, who came in no opposition to the Jewish law, nay, who came _not to destroy_, but _to fulfill_[137].

The conclusion is, that, though _persecution_ be on no pretence of conscience excusable in another man, yet in a Jew, and as directed against an apostate Jew, it had not this malignity, and was not the proper subject of his abhorrence[138].

To the question then, “Whether Paul’s belief justified his practice, in the case before us, that is, whether he did right _in doing that which he verily believed he ought to do_,” You may take his own answer—_This_, says he, _is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners_, OF WHOM I AM CHIEF[139]. He owns himself, we see, to have been _the chief of sinners_, that is, making all allowance for the hyperbole and modesty of the expression, a very great sinner. And if you ask in what respect, he tells you that, too: for, in the immediately preceding verses, he declares the ground of this charge upon himself, _That he had been a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious_. And in another place he says of himself, _I am the least of the Apostles; that am not meet to be called an Apostle, because I persecuted the church of God_[140].

You see, then, that, notwithstanding his former religion authorized him to persecute its enemies, notwithstanding he verily believed, that he ought to persecute Jesus as such, yet he now condemns himself, as having grievously sinned in giving way to that authority, and to that persuasion. How is this conduct to be accounted for and made consistent? plainly, by observing, that he had persecuted without warrant, even from his former religion; that he had culpably and rashly overlooked (what he might and ought to have seen) that Jesus was no fit object of this severity even to a Jew, that he was no enemy or subverter of the Jewish law, that he was no rebel to the God and king of Israel, but came indeed from him, acted by his commission, and displayed all the signs and credentials of the Messiah, in whom the law and the prophets were finally to be completed.

Without doubt, his being now of a religion, which forbad persecution, under all its forms, sharpened his sense of this crime, and may perhaps account for his calling himself the _chief_ of sinners; yet, that the persecution of Christians was to him a crime, and that he had sinned in committing it, he could not but know, and is clearly to be inferred from his expression. All the use he makes of his Jewish persuasion, is, but to palliate something what he knew was without excuse:—_I obtained mercy_, says he, _because I did it ignorantly in unbelief_: that is, because I persecuted in my _unbelieving_ state of a Jew, and was kept, by the genius of the Mosaic law, from _knowing_ and considering the general malignity of persecution. And that there may be some ground of mercy in this consideration, who can doubt, when we find the Son of God interceding for his very murderers on the same principle—_Father_, says he, _forgive them, for they know not what they do_.

There was this difference, you see, between a Jewish and a Gentile persecutor. The _Jew_ was answerable for his not seeing that Jesus was the Messiah: The _Gentile_ was to answer for that ignorance, and for his not seeing the general iniquity of persecution, on account of religion.

Paul, however, was certainly to blame; nay, he takes much blame on himself, for acting _ignorantly_ against the name of Jesus, though his ignorance was of the former kind only.

2. But now another question, and a very important one, arises out of this state of the case. Paul _verily thought_ that the religion of Jesus was an imposture. Yet he was _mistaken_ in thinking so; and, what is more, his mistake was highly _criminal_.

What then shall we say to those persons, who affirm, that, provided a man be _persuaded_ of the truth of his opinions, he is not answerable for his mistakes? or, in other words, what becomes of that notion which many have taken up, concerning _the innocency of error in matters of religion_?

I understand what is generally alledged in support of this candid and conciliating opinion. But the text says expressly, that Paul _verily believed he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus_; and with all this firmness of belief Paul was _the chief of sinners_.

Men therefore conclude too hastily, when from the sole _persuasion_ of their sincerity they infer the innocence of their errors.

“But what then would you require of poor unhappy man, whose _reason_ is naturally so weak, and whose _prejudices_ are often so strong?” Why, to use the force he has; to consider well whether he be indeed sincere (for to be firmly, and to be _sincerely_ persuaded, is not always the same thing); to employ his reason, such as it is, with care, and to controul his prejudices, what he can, by an impartial examination.

All this, it will be answered, is already done. It may be so. Let me then have leave to interrogate the sincere rejecter of Christianity, and try his good faith, of which he is so well assured, by the following questions.

“Has he cultivated his mind, and furnished himself with the requisite helps for religious inquiry? Has he studied the sacred volumes with care? Has he considered their scope and end? their genius and character? Has he fixed the boundaries of reason and of faith? Does he know where the province of the former ends, and where that of the second commences? Has he studied himself, his faculties and powers, his wants and necessities? Has he weighed the importance of the search, he is making into the will and word of God? Has he made that search with a suitable diligence and sobriety? Has he accustomed himself to the investigation of moral evidence? Has he collected, compared, and estimated, what is brought in evidence for the truth of the Christian religion? Has he, in short, (for I address myself to capable inquirers only) omitted none of those means which reason requires, and employed all that industry, and thought, and application, which the sincere love of truth demands on so momentous an occasion?

“Still, I have other inquiries to make. Has he approached the sanctuary of religion with awe? Has he purged his mind from all gross, nay from all refined vices? Had he no interest to serve, no prejudice to sooth, no predominant passion to gratify, by a hasty conclusion concerning the truth of Christianity? Or, (not to suspect a philosophic mind of these vulgar illusions) had he no vanity to flatter, no capricious levity to indulge, by a short and disdainful rejection of it? Had he no spleen to divert, no regard of fashion, no partialities of acquaintance or education to mislead him, from conviction? Had he no secret wish or hope, which he scarcely durst tell to himself, that his inquiry would end in doubt at least, if not in infidelity? In a word, can he assure himself, that in these several respects, he had no bias on his mind, or did his best at least to have none, against a conclusion, to which an impartial love of truth might invite and compell him?”

Had St. Paul himself been questioned in this manner, concerning his sincere belief, that he _ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus_, he would hardly, I suppose, have said, that he had fulfilled all these conditions;—But we know what he did say, to himself and to the world: He said, He was THE CHIEF OF SINNERS.

So remote is persuasion from sincerity! and so little acquainted, many times, are _innocence and error_!

But ‘these questions, it will be said, may be retorted on the believer; who may be neither more diligent, nor more impartial in his inquiries, than the unbeliever.’

Allow that they may; yet observe the immense difference of the two cases, in regard both to the _danger_ incurred, and to the _crime_ committed.

If I _believe_, on insufficient grounds, what do I lose? only what I can well spare; my unbelief and my vices. And what do I gain? that, which of all things is most precious to me; peace of mind, and the hopes of heaven. On the other hand, if I _disbelieve_, I lose all that is valuable in both worlds, and gain nothing but the sad privilege of being set free from the restraints of this religion[141].

Consider, too, the difference of the _crime_, in the two cases. If the Christian errs in admitting the truth of his religion, he has only to answer for his ill judgment, at most: he could be drawn to this persuasion by no criminal motives: for, which of these could bias him to the belief of the holiest of all religions? If the error lies on the other side, in rejecting this religion, how shall he know, that, besides the blame of judging ill, some immoral purposes and dispositions may not have secretly concurred to pervert his judgment? The Christian may be unreasonable: but the unbeliever, I do not say, certainly, but, is too probably _vicious_.

Thus the danger, in all views, is on the unbelieving side. And if there be difficulty in knowing when I am sincere, there is none in knowing which of the two mistakes is safer and less criminal.

It will be said, perhaps, that an inquirer may be biassed in favour of Christianity by corrupt motives, that is, by views of _credit_ or _interest_, attending the profession of it, in countries where this religion is legally established. Without doubt. But such persons can hardly put themselves in the case of St. Paul, and say, They are _verily persuaded_, they ought to be Christians. For such gross motives can be no secret to their own hearts, and they cannot but know that Christianity condemns all such motives. I regard then such persons in the light of _hypocrites_ confessed, and by no means in that of _believers_. On the other hand, men may _affect_ to disbelieve from the like views of _credit_ or _interest_, in certain circumstances; and so become hypocrites of another kind; of which the number is, perhaps, not inconsiderable. But I am here speaking of such corrupt partialities as may consist with a firm belief, or disbelief of Christianity. And here it is plain, the criminality is likely to be much greater in him who without ground rejects, than in him who too hastily admits such a religion.

To conclude, then, with the case of St. Paul, which has given occasion to these reflexions.

No firmness of persuasion, it is plain, can justify a man in being led by it into the commission of gross and acknowledged crimes. And the reason is, that no persuasion of the truth of any principle can be greater than that which every man has that he ought not to commit such actions. If St. Paul’s persuasion saved him from this guilt, it was owing to the peculiar genius of the Jewish religion.

But, further, St. Paul was blameable for taking up that _persuasion_, on which he acted. His mind had been corrupted by hasty prejudices, and ungoverned passion. He concluded too fast, then, when he thought his persuasion _sincere_, though it was indeed strong and violent. His persuasion did not exclude error, and that error implied insincerity, and so was not _innocent_.

It follows from the whole, that we ought never to _act_ wrong on the pretence of conscience; and that we should learn to suspect the possibility of guilt’s mixing itself even with what we call our speculative opinions. Error may be innocent; but not so long as truth lies before us, and we may, if we do our duty, discover it. Let our inquiries, then, in all matters of moment, above all in those of religion, be diligent, and strictly honest. Where these precautions are not observed, our mistakes are always blameable, because in some degree they are wilful and insincere.

SERMON XXI.

PREACHED MAY 10, 1767.

St. LUKE, vi. 26.

_Woe unto you, when all men speak well of you._