Part 41

In making _penal_ redemption and _moral_ redemption separate and successive, the vicarious scheme, we submit, is inconsistent with the Christian idea of salvation. Not that we take the second, and reject the first, as our Trinitarian friends imagine; nor that we invert their order. We accept them both; putting them however, not in succession, but in super-position, so that they coalesce. The power and the punishment of sin perish together; and together begin the holiness and the bliss of heaven. Whatever extracts the poison, cools the sting: nor can the divine vigour of spiritual health enter, without its freedom and its joy. That there can be any separate dealings with our past guilt and with our present character, is not a truth of God, but a fiction of the schools. The sanctification of the one is the redemption of the other. The mind given up to passion, or chained to self, or any how alienated from the love and life divine, dwells, whatever be its faith, in the dark and terrible abyss: while he, and he only, that in the freedom and tranquillity of great affections, communes with God and toils for men, understands the meaning, and wins the promises, of heaven. Am I asked, ‘What then is to persuade the sinful heart, thus to draw near to God;—what, but a proclamation of absolute pardon, can break down the secret distrust, which keeps our nature back, wrapped in the reserve of conscious guilt?’ I reply; however much these fears and hesitations might cling round us, and restrain us from the mystic Deity of Nature, they can have no place in our intercourse with the Father whom Jesus represents. It needs only that Christ be truly his image, to know “that the hindrance is not with him, but entirely in ourselves:”[394] to see that there is no anger in his look; to feel that he invites us to unreserved confession, and accepts our self-abandonment to him; that he lifts the repentant, prostrate at his feet, and speaks the words of severe, but truest hope. Am I told, ‘that only the gratitude excited by personal rescue from tremendous danger, by an unconditional and entire deliverance, is capable of winning our reluctant nature, of opening the soul to the access of the Divine Spirit, and bringing it to the service of the Everlasting Will?’ I rejoice to acknowledge, that _some_ such disinterested power must be awakened, some mighty forces of the heart be called out, ere the regeneration can take place that renders us children of the Highest; ere we can break, with true new-birth, from the shell of self, and try and train our wings in the atmosphere of God. The permanent work of duty must be wrought by the affections; not by the constraint, however solemn, of hope and fear; no self-perfectionating process, elaborated by an anxious will, has warmth enough to ripen the soul’s diviner fruits; the walks of outward morality, and the slopes of deliberate meditation, it may keep smooth and trim; but cannot make the true life-blossoms set, as in a garden of the Lord, and the foliage wave as with the voice of God among the trees. I gladly admit that to a believer in the vicarious sacrifice, the sense of pardon, the love of the great deliverer, may well fulfil this blessed office, of carrying him out of himself in genuine allegiance to a being most benign and holy. And perceiving that, if this doctrine were removed, there is not, _in the system of which it forms a part_, and which else would be all terror, anything that could perform the same generous part, I can understand why it seems to its advocates, an _essential_ power in the renovation of the character. But great as it may be, within the limits of its own narrow scheme, ideas possessed of higher moral efficacy are not wanting, when we pass into a region of nobler and more Christian thought. Shall we say that the view of the infinite Ruler, given in the spoken wisdom or the living spirit of Christ, has no sanctifying power? Yet where is there any trace in it of the satisfactionist’s redemption? When we sit at Messiah’s feet, that transforming gratitude for an extinguished penalty on which the prevailing theology insists, as its central emotion, becomes replaced by a similar and profounder sentiment towards the eternal Father. If to rescue men from a dreadful fate in the future be a just title to our reverence, _never to have designed_ that fate claims an affection yet more devoted; if there be a divine mercy in annihilating an awful curse, in shedding only blessing there is surely a diviner still. Shall the love restored to us after long delay, and in consideration of an equivalent, work mightily on the heart; and shall that which asked no purchase, which has been veiled by no cloud, which has enfolded us always in its tranquillity, nor can ever quit the soul opened to receive it, fail to penetrate the conscience, and dissolve the frosts of our self-love by some holier flame? Never shall it be found true, that God must threaten us with vengeance, ere we can feel the shelter of his grace!

In truth, the Christian idea of salvation cannot be better illustrated, than by the doubt which has been entertained respecting the proper translation of my text. Some, referring it to spiritual redemption, adhere to the common version; others, seeing that the apostle Peter is explaining “by what power, or by what name” he had cured the lame man at the temple gate, refer the words to this miracle of deliverance, and render them thus; “neither is there _healing_ in any other; for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we can be _healed_.” It matters little which it is; for whether we speak of body or of mind, Jesus “_saves_” us by “_making us whole_;” by putting forth upon us a divine and healing power, through which past suffering and present decrepitude disappear together; which supplies the defective elements of our nature; cools the burning of inward fever; or calls into being new senses and perceptions, opening a diviner universe to our experience. The deformed and crooked will, bowed by Satan, lo! these many years, and nowise able to lift up itself, he loosens and makes straight in uprightness. The moral paralytic, collapsed and prostrate amid the stir of life, and incapably gazing on the moving waters in which others find their health, has often started up at the summons of that voice, though perchance “he wist not who it was;” and going his way, has found it to be “the sabbath,” and owned the “work” of one who is in the spirit of “the Father.” From the eye long dark and blind to duty and to God, he has caused the film to pass away, and shown the solemn look of life beneath a heaven so tranquil and sublime. Even the dead of soul, close wrapped in bandages of selfishness,—that greediest of graves,—have been quickened by his piercing call, and have come forth; to learn, “when risen,” that only in the meekness that can obey is there the power to command, only in the love that serves is there the life of heart-felt liberty. To call, then, on the name and trust in the spirit of Christ, is to invoke the restoring power of God; to give symmetry and speed to our lame affections, and the vigour of an athlete to our limping wills. There is not any Christian _salvation_ that is not thus identical with Christian _perfection_: “nor any other name under heaven given among men, whereby we may be (thus) _made whole_.” Let all that would “be perfect be thus minded;”[395] seek “the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ;”[396] and they shall find in him a “power to become the Sons of God.”[397]

NOTES.

A.

_Relation between Natural Religion and Revelation._

It is not easy to determine, with any precision, what is Mr. M‘Neile’s estimate of the capabilities and defects of natural religion. It is subjected to a vague and indistinct disparagement throughout his lecture; the _impression_ is left, that the character of God cannot be vindicated by appeal to his works; but I do not perceive that the lecturer commits himself to any logical proposition on the subject. One of his coadjutors,[398] however, has supplied this deficiency; and taking, as an antagonist, a sentence from the second Lecture of the present series, has argued at length, that “The moral Character and Unity of God are not discoverable from the works of Creation.” He affirms that “to talk of ‘discerning the moral attributes of God on the material structures of the universe,’ is not only idle, but unreasonable:” and the justification which he offers of this bold statement seems to comprise the two following arguments:—

That the universe is analogous to a cathedral or other human edifice; which discloses something of the Architect’s genius and power, but nothing of his moral qualities: and

That the mixture of good and evil in the world perplexes the mind with opposite reports of the Creator’s character.

If scepticism were a just object of moral rebuke, in what terms might we not speak of this “infidel” rejection of God’s ancient and everlasting oracles of nature? For the serious doubts and perplexities of the devout student of creation, an unqualified respect may be entertained. But it is to be regretted that the necessities of a system should tempt the expounder of revelation to assail, with reckless indifference, the primitive sentiments of all religion. The aversion of orthodoxy to the theology of the unsophisticated reason and heart is, however, to be classed among the natural antipathies. Among all the extravagances of modern English divinity, unknown to the sound and healthy era of our national church, it is perhaps the most significant; indicating that final obscuration of Christianity, in which it cannot be made to shine without putting out every other light. This destructive mode of argumentation, which discredits everything foreign to the favourite system, is the evident result of fear, not of faith: it is a theological adoption of the Chinese policy; and keeps the Celestial Empire safe, by regarding every stranger as a possible spy; and excluding all alien ideas as forerunners of revolution. The citadel of faith is defended, by making the most dreadful havoc of every power which ought to be its strength and ornament. Put out reason, but save the Trinity; suborn experience, but prove depravity; disparage conscience, but secure the Atonement; bewilder the sentiments of justice and benevolence, only guard the everlasting Hell;—have long been the instructions of orthodoxy to its defenders: and now we are asked to silence the anthem of nature to the God of _love_, that priests without disturbance may prove him the God of _vengeance_; and to withdraw our eye from the telescope of science, which reveals the ONENESS of the Creator’s work, that we may examine, through a church microscope, the _plurality_ of a Hebrew noun. Can those who taunt the Unitarians with the _negative_ character of their system, give a satisfactory account of the _positive_ merits of a religion which _dis_believes reason, _dis_trusts the moral sense, _dis_likes science, _dis_credits nature, and for all who are without the Bible and a fit interpreter, _dis_owns the moral character of God?

In commenting upon Mr. James’s position on this last point, I will confine myself to three observations:—the first, relating to the consequences of his doctrine, if true; the others explaining, by separate reference to his two arguments, why I conceive it to be false.

(1.) If there is no trace in nature of the moral attributes of God, there can be no disclosure of them in Scripture. The character of the Revealer is our only guarantee for the truth and excellence of the Revelation: and if his character is antecedently unknown, if there is nothing to preclude the idea of his being deceitful and malignant, how can we be assured that his communication is not a seduction and a lie? It is not the præternatural rank, but the just and holy mind, of a celestial Being, that entitles his messages to reception: and surely it is this alone which, in our opponents’ own system, makes the whole difference between the suggestions of Satan and the inspiration of God. But let us hear, in this matter, the judgment of one who adorned the English church in times when solidity of thought and truth of sentiment were still in esteem among her clergy. Archbishop Tillotson observes; “Unless the knowledge of God and his essential perfections be natural, I do not see what sufficient and certain foundation there can be of revealed religion. For unless we naturally know God to be a Being of all perfection, and consequently that whatever he says is true, I cannot see what divine revelation can signify. For God’s revealing or declaring such a thing to us, is no necessary argument that it is so, unless antecedently to this revelation, we be possessed firmly with this principle, that whatever God says is true. And whatever is known antecedently to revelation, must be known by natural light, and by reasonings and deductions from natural principles. I might further add to this argument, that the _only standard and measure to judge of divine revelations_, and to distinguish between what are true, and what are counterfeit, are the _natural notions which men have of God, and of his essential perfections_.”[399] And elsewhere, still more explicitly; “The strongest and surest reasonings in religion are grounded upon the essential perfections of God; so that even divine revelation itself doth suppose these for its foundation, and can signify nothing to us, unless these be first known and believed. Unless we be first persuaded of the providence of God, and his particular care of mankind, why should we believe that he would make any revelation of himself to men? Unless it be naturally known to us, that God is true, what foundation is there for the belief of his word? And what signifies the laws and promises of God, unless natural light do first assure us of his sovereign authority and faithfulness? So that _the principles of natural religion, are the foundation of that which is revealed_; and therefore in reason nothing can be admitted to be a revelation from God, which plainly contradicts his essential perfection; and consequently if any pretends divine revelation for this doctrine, that God hath from all eternity absolutely decreed the eternal ruin of the greatest part of mankind, without any respect to the sins and demerits of men, I am as certain that this doctrine cannot be of God, as I am sure that God is good and just; because this grates upon the notion that mankind have of goodness and justice. This is that which _no good man would do_, and _therefore_ cannot be believed of infinite goodness; and therefore if an _Apostle_ or _Angel from heaven_ teach any doctrine which plainly overthrows the goodness and justice of God, let him be accursed. For every man hath greater assurance that God is good and just, than he can have of any subtle speculations about predestination and the decrees of God.”[400]

It is somewhat curious, that in the position which they have assumed with respect to natural religion, our reverend opponents are allying themselves with Socinus: and that, in answering them, I should find myself citing the words of an Archbishop of their own church in direct reply to this great heresiarch. On the adjoining page to the first from which I have quoted, Tillotson says, “God is naturally known to men: the contrary whereof Socinus positively maintains, though therein he be forsaken by most of his followers,—an opinion, in my judgment, very unworthy of one who, not without reason, was esteemed so great a master of reason; and (though I believe he did not see it) undermining the strongest and surest foundation of all religion, which, when the natural notions of God are once taken away, will certainly want its best support. Besides that, by denying any natural knowledge of God and his essential perfections, he freely gives away one of the most plausible grounds of opposing the doctrine of the Trinity.” That which Socinus could afford “freely to _give_ away,” our reverend opponents, it seems, find it necessary violently to _take_ away.[401]

(2.) The _arguments_ by which Mr. James endeavours to justify his repudiation of the primary sentiments of unrevealed religion, might be sufficiently answered by a reference to any work treating of natural theology, from the Memorabilia of Socrates to the last Bridgewater Treatise. But as a phrase occurring in my first lecture appears to have been concerned in their production, it is incumbent on me to show where their fallacy lies.

The lecturer’s reasoning stands thus: The universe is a material structure; and so is a cathedral; but a cathedral gives no report of the moral character of its architect: neither, therefore, does the universe:—an excellent example, when reduced to form, of the violation of the first general rule of the syllogism, forbidding an undistributed middle term.

Did it never occur to our reverend opponent that “the material structures of the universe” are of various kinds, not all of them resembling a cathedral; nay, that he himself (not being able “to sit in a thimble,” or even “in the smallest compass imaginable,” “without inconvenience from want of room,”)[402] is a “material structure,” in one part of his human constitution?—a circumstance which might have suggested the distinction between organized and unorganized nature. Admitting even (what is by no means true) that the arrangements of the latter terminate, like the design of a minster, in the mere production of beauty, and indicate only genius and skill, the contrivances of the former fulfil their end in the creation of happiness in the animal world, and the maintenance of a retributive discipline in human life: results which are the appropriate fruit and expression of benevolence and equity. Even the beauty of creation, however, cannot be attributed to sentiments as little moral in their character, as those which may actuate the human artist; for He who has called into being whatever is lovely and glorious, has created also percipient minds to behold it, and transmute it from a material adjustment into a mental possession.

It is not even true that a work of art, like a cathedral, expresses no moral quality. The individual builder’s character, indeed, it may not reveal. But no architect ever produced a cathedral; he is but the tool wielded by the spirit of his age; and Phidias could no more have designed York Minster, than the associated masons could have adorned the Parthenon. Ages must contribute to the origination of such works: and when they appear, they embody, not indistinctly, some of the great sentiments which possess the period of their birth.

(3.) The mixture of good and evil in the world is said to confuse our reasonings respecting the Divine Being, by presenting us with opposite reports of his character.

This argument is evidently inconsistent with the former. While _that_ declared the _silence_ of creation on the moral attributes of its Author, this affirms its _double_ (and therefore doubtful) _speech_. After all, then, there _are_ phenomena which depose to the character of the Creator, if we can only interpret their attestation aright.

The rules for the treatment of conflicting evidence are plain and intelligible; nor is there any reason why they should not be applied to the great problems of natural religion. The _preponderant_ testimony being permitted to determine our convictions, the evils and inequalities of the world cannot disturb our faith in the benevolence and holiness of God; but must stand over, as a residue of unreduced phenomena, to be hereafter brought under the dominion of that law of love, which the visible systematic arrangements of Providence show to be _general_.

Happily, no sceptical reasonings, like those on which I am animadverting, can permanently prevent the natural sentiments of men from asserting their supremacy. To use the words of Bishop Butler, “_Our whole nature_ leads us to ascribe _all moral perfection_ to God, and to deny all imperfection of him. And this will for ever be a practical proof of his moral character, to such as will consider what a practical proof is; _because it is the voice of God speaking in us_.”[403]

From the opposite appearances of good and evil in the world, Mr. James derives an argument against the Unity of God, and affirms that “reason thinks it _more reasonable_ to admit the existence of two almighty and independent Beings, the one eternally good, the other eternally evil.”[404] If the lecturer’s “_reason_” really recommends to him such extraordinary conclusions, and insists on patronizing the Manichean heresy, the intellectual faculty may well be in bad theological repute with him. The constant origin of pain and enjoyment, good and evil, from the _very same arrangements and structures_, renders the partition of the creative work between two antagonistic principles not very easy of conception; and it yet remains to be explained, how the laws which produce the breeze can proceed from one Being, and those which speed the hurricane from another; how hunger can have one author, and the refreshment of food another; how the power of _right_ moral choice can be the gift of God, and that of _wrong_ moral choice of a Demon.

The reverend lecturer attempts to weaken the argument from the unity of the creation to that of the Creator. His eccentric remarks on comets I must leave to the consideration of astronomers. The rest of the argument is entitled to such reply as the following words of Robert Hall may give to it. “To prove the unity of this great Being, in opposition to a plurality of Gods, it is not necessary to have recourse to metaphysical abstractions. It is sufficient to observe, that the notion of more than one author of nature is inconsistent with that harmony of design which pervades her works; that it solves no appearances, is supported by no evidence, and serves no purpose but to embarrass and perplex our conceptions.”[405]

B.

_Trinitarian and Unitarian Ideas of Justice._

It is only natural that the parable of the Prodigal Son should be no favourite with those, who deny the unconditional mercy of God. The place which this divine tale occupies in the Unitarian theology appears to be filled, in the orthodox scheme, by the story of Zaleucus, king of the Locrians; which has been appealed to in the present controversy by both the Lecturers on the Atonement, and seems to be the only endurable illustration presented, even by Pagan history, of the execution of vicarious punishment. This monarch had passed a law, condemning adulterers to the loss of both eyes. His own son was convicted of the crime: and to satisfy at once the claims of law and of clemency, the royal parent “commanded one of his own eyes to be pulled out, and one of his son’s.” Is it too bold a heresy to confess, that there seems to me something heathenish in this example, and that, as an exponent of the Divine character, I more willingly revere the Father of the prodigal, than the father of the adulterer?