I would have you wise unto that which is good, and simple concerning evil.
In considering the first part of this precept, I endeavoured to give some general description of Religious or CHRISTIAN WISDOM; both in respect of the END it has in view, and of the MEANS employed by it: I further exemplified some of those subordinate WAYS, in which the prudent application even of those means is seen and expressed: And all this, for the sake of those sincere, but over-zealous persons, who are apt to think that wisdom hath little to do in the prosecution of honest and upright purposes.
It now remains to treat that other part of the text, which requires us to be INNOCENT, as well as wise, to be SIMPLE CONCERNING EVIL. And this, perhaps, will be thought the more important branch of the subject. For, generally speaking, the ways of wisdom, when our purposes are the very best, are not only the most effectual, but the safest and most convenient. So that prudence is likely to be a favourite virtue with us. But the case is different with regard to simplicity concerning evil; which is often found a hard and disagreeable injunction; as it may happen to cross our passions and the more immediate views of self-interest. So that this SIMPLICITY will sometimes seem, what the world is ready enough to call it, folly: and therefore, for the credit of our sense, as well as virtue, we should be well apprized of the worth and excellence of this Christian duty.
The virtue of SIMPLICITY consists, in general, in following the plain ingenuous sense of the mind; in taking our measures according to the dictates of conscience, and acting, on all occasions, without reserve, duplicity, or self-imposture, up to our notions of obligation. It is the office of WISDOM to see that our conscience be rightly informed: But our INTEGRITY is shewn in doing that which conscience, be it erroneously informed or no, requires of us. It consists, in a word, in whatever we understand by an honesty of nature; in observing, universally, that which we believe to be right, and avoiding what we know, or but suspect123 to be wrong.
This simplicity of mind may be almost said to be born with us. It is the bias of nature on our young minds; and our earliest instructions, as well as the first efforts of reason, strengthen and confirm it. But the impression lasts not long. We are scarcely entered into life, when we begin to treat it as one of those childish things, which it is beneath the dignity of our riper age to be amused with. The passions put forth and grow luxuriant; and why, we say to ourselves, should this tender apprehension of evil check their growth, and restrain their activity? We are now in the season of pleasure; and can there be any hurt in taking a little of it, out of that narrow path, which our early prejudices have prescribed to us?
Still, as we advance in years, fresh objects arise, and other passions engage us in the pursuit of them. Wealth and honour, or what we improperly call our interests, have now an ascendant over us; and the passion for each is rarely gratified but at the expence of some virtue. And thus it comes to pass, that, though we set out in the world with a warm sense of truth and honour, experience by degrees refines us out of these principles; and our hearts, instead of retaining that infant purity, the grace and ornament of our nature, and which Christ so especially requires124 in the professors of his religion, are all over stained with fraud, dissimulation, and disingenuity. We are even proud of the acquisition, and call it a knowledge of life: so dextrous are we in giving a good name to our worst qualities!
But effects follow their causes; and the vice we are now considering is not the less operative, nor the less hurtful, for the specious terms in which we dress it up, and present it to each other.
Of its malignity I shall give two or three instances; and, to fit them the better for use, they shall be taken from very different quarters; from the cabinets of the wise, and the schools of the learned, as well as from the vulgar haunts of careless and licentious men. We shall learn, perhaps, to reverence the Apostle’s advice, when we find that the neglect of it has DEGRADED RELIGION; RELAXED MORALITY, and POLLUTED COMMON LIFE.
To begin with an instance which shews how dangerous it is to depart from this simplicity concerning evil, in the great concerns of RELIGION.
I. When the priest, the sage, and the politician joined together in the days of heathenism to propagate among the people a superstition, which themselves condemned and detested; when they did their utmost to support a senseless, an immoral, an irreligious worship; when they strove, by every seducing artifice, to keep up that strong delusion, which God, in his just indignation, had sent among them, to believe a lye, (for such in its whole fabric and constitution was the old Pagan idolatry) when these men, who knew the truth, were yet contented to hold it in unrighteousness; they believed, no doubt, nay, they made no scruple to boast, that they had acted with consummate prudence; and that, in sacrificing the interests of religious truth (a small matter in their estimation) they had most effectually provided for the public interest. But what sentence does the Scripture pass on these men of ancient and renowned wisdom? Why this severe and mortifying one, That professing themselves wise, they became fools. And how well they deserved this censure, we understand from their own history; where we read, That Pagan idolatry, thus countenanced and supported, teemed with all the vices, of which our depraved nature is capable; and that the several contrivances of its wise advocates to keep an impious and barefaced falshood in credit, served only to produce, first, a SUSPICION, and in the end, an open and avowed CONTEMPT, of all Religion.
However, the ends of divine wisdom were greatly promoted by this sad experience of human folly. For Christianity, which made its appearance at this juncture, found it an easier task to establish itself on the ruins of a fallen, or falling superstition. Truth, which had for so long a time been anxiously kept out of sight, was now the more welcome to those, who wished her appearance. And the detection of those prophane arts, which had been so manifestly employed in that service, disposed the most perverse or careless the more easily to reconcile themselves to her.
And it would have been happy if the sense of this advantage, which the simplicity of truth obtained, in the first pages of the Gospel, over all the frauds of imposture, had prevented Christians from copying afterwards what they had so successfully contended against and exposed. Then had a great dishonour of the Christian name been avoided. But that truth, whose virtues are here magnified, must not be dissembled. The practice of lying for the cause of God, too soon revived, and became too frequent in the Christian world. It is in vain to think of diverting your minds, more especially, from that great part of it, which has long since forgotten to be simple concerning evil. But true wisdom will ever be justified of her children. These dishonest arts, which could not support a bad cause, have been injurious and disgraceful to the best. They have corrupted the ingenuous spirit of the Gospel, they have adulterated the sincere word of God; and, in both ways, have produced innumerable mischiefs, in civil and religious life. They have helped to bring into discredit or disuse a true Christian temper; and have unhappily created in the minds of many an undeserved prejudice against the Christian faith.
II. But if these men have dishonoured Religion, others have defiled MORALITY; yet both assume to themselves the title of wise men; and for that very reason, because they have departed as far as possible from the virtue of simplicity.
And here your indignation cannot but rise more especially against a set of men, who, applying the subtleties of school-philosophy to the plain science of Ethics, have made as free with the precepts of the Gospel, as some others had done with its doctrines. These men, under the respectable name of Casuists, have presumed to wind up, or let down the obligation of moral duties to what pitch they please. Such as have taken the STRICTER side, deserve but small thanks for perplexing the minds of good men with needless scruples; and discouraging the rest with those austerities, which our Religion no where commands, and the condition of human life will not admit. But for that looser sort, who by a thousand studied evasions, qualifications, and distinctions, dissolve the force of every moral precept; and, as the Pharisees of old, make the word of God of none effect by their impious glosses, I know not what term of reproach you will think bitter enough for them. The sacred writers thought it sufficient to deliver the rules of life in general terms125; leaving it, as they well might, to common sense and common honesty, to make the application of them to particular cases, as they chanced to arise. But this officious sophistry intervening and perverting the ingenuous sense of the mind, instructs us how to transgress them all with impunity, and even innocence. By the help of this magic, we may extract the sting of guilt from every known sin; and, if we have but wit enough, may be as wicked as we please with a safe conscience.
If the features of this corrupt casuistry have not been overcharged; or, indeed, if there be any such thing in the world as a corrupt casuistry, it may concern us to reflect, that this pest of society could not have arisen but from a contempt of the Apostle’s rule, of being simple concerning evil.
III. Hitherto we have exemplified the breach of this rule in the learned, and the wise. And it may be thought that nothing but perverted science could qualify men for so prodigious a depravity. But there is a casuistry of the heart, as well as head; and we find by woeful experience, that men may refine themselves out of that simplicity which the Gospel enjoins, without the assistance of unblessed knowledge.
For I come now, in the last place, to instance in the vulgar tribes of libertine and careless men. Of whom we may observe, that when indulged passion has taught them to make light of an honest mind; the consequence is, that they run into all excesses, and are rarely hindered from working all uncleanness with greediness. It is true, indeed, that no man becomes at once desperately and irretrievably wicked. But it is not less true, that when this great step is taken of prevaricating with a man’s own conscience, the other stages of iniquity are presently passed over. And how indeed can it be otherwise? So long as a man preserves the integrity of his natural disposition, there is always hope that, though particular passions may prevail for a time, reason and virtue will, in the end, regain their dominion over him. At least, he will be constantly checked and kept back in the career of his vices. But when this sincerity of heart is lost; when he confounds the differences of right and wrong, palliating the deformities of vice, or bestowing on vice itself the attractions of virtue; then all reasonable expectation of a return is cut off; since this perverted ingenuity tends to make him easy under his sins, and leaves him at leisure to pursue his evil courses with security.
We see then from the excesses into which these different sorts of men have been led, by the refinements of POLICY, of ABUSED SCIENCE, and DELUSIVE PASSION, how dangerous it is to bid adieu to that simplicity concerning evil, which the Holy Apostle requires of us.
It remains, that we cannot provide too cautiously against those evasive PLEAS AND PRETENCES, which would incline us to part with it.
These PRETENCES are infinite: for, when the heart is corrupted, the understanding is ready to pander to every lust that importunes it. But we may know the principal of them by these signs. To be simple concerning evil is the easiest thing in the world; but we may suspect that something wrong is ready to intrude itself, “WHEN we cast about for excuses to cover the nakedness of ingenuity; when we are driven to distinctions and far-fetched reasoning for our justification; when we pause a moment between the clear conviction of duty, on one hand, and any indirect views on the other; more particularly, WHEN we find the tone of our virtue relax at the consideration of what we may chance to lose by adhering to it; when we but suspect, that a severe unqualifying virtue looks like inhumanity; when we think our dependencies and connexions in life have a demand upon conscience; when we lament with the politician, that good men are impracticable, and so, from a principle of public spirit, resolve not to encounter that prejudice: Above all, when we go about to regulate morality by what a knowledge of the world teaches; when custom is pleaded in opposition to duty, and vice itself authorized by fashion126; when we acknowledge what we do is in itself not justifiable, but excuse it by a pretence of the good ends we hope to serve by it; when we are willing to plead the infirmity of nature, the power of temptation, the prevalence of example; when we venture too securely on the confines of immorality, and are curious to know how near we may go to vice, without being directly vicious.”
These, and such as these, are the dangerous insinuations which attempt our virtue. And how, you will ask, shall we secure ourselves from them? By reason and argument? By speculation and philosophy? Shall we stay to examine their several pretences, call these delusive pleas to account, and shew we can confute them all, before we reject them?
Alas, I dare not advise this method; which besides its other inconveniencies, is not, I doubt, a very safe one. Our heads may be unequal to the task; or, which is worse, our hearts may betray us. At the best, we shall waste much time in these ingenious inquiries, when the business of life demands an immediate determination. St. Paul has shewn us a shorter and more excellent way, when he bids us, Be simple concerning evil. In virtue of this sacred admonition, a wise man will think it sufficient to dismiss these vain insinuations at once, without so much as spending a thought upon them. “What,” he will say to himself, “if I cannot detect the falsehood of these pleas, I have a heart, that revolts against them. I cannot, perhaps, disentangle the sophistry of these arguments; but I feel the baseness of the conclusion, and I see in others the folly of acting upon it. It were ill with vice indeed, if it had no false colours to appear in; and error would be hooted out of the world, if she did not hide her obliquities under the garb of reason. But what are these disguises to me, who am neither dazzled by the one, nor duped by the other? Let the curious, if they will, inquire, wherein the imposture consists: I have that within me, which tells me in a moment, they are but impostures. In vain then, will such a one conclude, are these insidious attempts on me, who take a sure refuge in the word of God, and the integrity of my own virtue. Be the pretences what they will, the confutation of them is no part of a Christian’s care. I may exercise my understanding profitably in other matters. It is my duty to consider much of the ways of doing good. I may be prudent and WISE here. But, EXPERIENCE, and CONSCIENCE, and RELIGION, command me to be, SIMPLE CONCERNING EVIL.”
How can ye believe, which receive honour one of another, and seek not the honour that cometh of God only?
It has been thought unfair to charge unbelief, simply and indiscriminately, on the grosser passions. The observation, I believe, is just: and yet it may be true, notwithstanding, that unbelief is always owing to some or other of the passions. The evidences of revealed religion are so numerous, and upon the whole so convincing, that one cannot easily conceive how a reasonable man should reject them all, without the intervention of some secret prejudice, or predominant affection.
Of these prejudices and affections, one of the commonest, and the most seducing of any to the better sort of unbelievers, is that irregular love of praise and reputation, which our Lord condemns in the text—How can ye believe, which receive honour one of another, and seek not the honour that cometh from God only?
The question, we may observe, is so expressed, as if we could not receive honour from one another, and believe, at the same time; as if there was a physical, at least a moral impossibility, that these two things should subsist together. And we shall find, perhaps, the expression no stronger than the occasion required, if, besides other considerations, we attend to the following; which shew how inconsistent a true practical faith in the Gospel is with the sollicitous and undistinguishing pursuit of human glory.
For, I. The Gospel delivers many of its doctrines as inscrutable, and silences the busy curiosity of our understandings about them: but the honour of men is frequently obtained by indulging this curiosity, and pushing the researches of reason into those forbidden quarters.
II. The Gospel demands an humble and reverential awe in the discussion of all its doctrines; such of them, I mean, as it leaves most free to human inquiry: but this turn of mind is contrary to that high courage and daring intrepidity, which the world expects in those who are candidates for its honour.
III. The Gospel prescribes an uniform and unqualified assent to whatever it declares of divine things, whether we can or cannot apprehend the reason of such declaration: but this submission to authority, the world is ready to call ill-faith, and to consider the defiance of it, as a mark of superior honesty and virtue.
Thus we see, that WIT, COURAGE, and PROBITY, the three great qualities we most respect in ourselves, and for which we receive the highest honour from each other, appear many times to the world with less advantage in the Christian, than the unbeliever. Not, that Christianity strips us of these virtues: on the other hand, it requires and promotes them all, in the proper sense of the words; and they may really subsist in a higher degree in the believer, than any other: but they will often seem to be more triumphantly displayed by those who give themselves leave to disbelieve; and the prospect of honour, which that opinion opens to such men, is one of the commonest sources from which they derive their infidelity.
But to make good this charge against the unbelieving world, and to lay open the mysteries of that insidious self-love, which prompts them to aspire to fame, by the means of infidelity, it will be necessary to resume the THREE TOPICS before mentioned, and to enlarge something upon each of them.
I. First, then, I say, That He, who at all adventures resolves to obtain the honour of men, cannot believe, because the unrestrained exercise of his WIT, by which he would acquire that honour, is inconsistent with the genius and principles of our religion.
The fundamental articles of the Gospel are proposed to us, as objects of faith, not as subjects of inquiry. As they proceed from the source of light and truth, they are founded, no doubt, in the highest reason; but they are for the most part, at least in many respects, inscrutable to our reason. It is enough that we see cause to admit the revelation itself, upon the evidences given of it: it is not necessary that we should carry our researches any farther. It is not safe, or decent, or practicable, in many cases, to do it. The just and sober reasoner is careful to proceed on clear and distinct ideas, and to stop where these fail him. But how soon does he arrive at this point? For the sublime genius of Christianity reminds him, at almost every step, how impossible it is, with the scanty line of human reason, to fathom the deep things of God; and represses the sallies of his wit and fancy, with this reflexion—how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! In a word, where he finds the subject too obscure for his understanding to penetrate, or too vast for his ideas to comprehend (and he presently finds this, when he attempts to reason on the mysteries of the Christian faith) he checks his inquiries, he believes, and adores in silence.
But now this silence, this adoration, is ill suited to the restless ambition of the human mind, when it aspires to the reputation of profound and extensive knowledge. The vain reasoner would signalize himself on all subjects, the most abstruse and mysterious, in preference to others; and fears not to carry his presumptuous inquiries to the seat and throne of God. He questions the revealed truths of the Gospel as freely as any other; and finding them many times inexplicable by the principles of human science, he triumphs in the discovery, applauds his own reach of thought, and dazzles the world into a high opinion of his wit and parts. The truth is, he decides on subjects, which he does not, and cannot understand: but the world sees, he decides upon them; and that is generally enough to attract its admiration and esteem.
Again: In such parts of revealed Religion, as lie more within the cognizance of human reason, an inquirer may find difficulties, and start objections, which the best instructed believer either does not attempt, or is not able to resolve. Here, the triumph of wit over faith is thought conspicuous, and is indeed seducing. For, while the believer has only to confess his own ignorance, the infidel shines in exposing and inforcing those difficulties and objections: And, when the ingenuity is all on one side, it is rarely suspected, that reason and good sense may be, with modesty, on the other.
Nay, where the point in question can be effectually cleared up, still their will generally seem to be more acuteness in discovering a difficulty, than in removing it: And thus the subtle caviller in religious controversy shall have the fortune to pass for a shrewder man, than the ablest apologist.
And that this advantage of reputation is, indeed, that which free and libertine reasoners propose to themselves, you will see by calling to mind the sort of subjects, which they are fondest to treat, and the sort of character, which they are most proud to assume.
In natural religion, the origin of evil, and God’s moral government, are their favourite topics: in revealed religion, the fall of human nature, its restoration by the death and sufferings of Christ, the incarnation of the Son of God, and the adorable Trinity. But why are these high subjects picked out to exercise their speculations upon? subjects, in which the sublimest understanding is absorbed and lost; subjects, which they well know (for I speak of the abler men in that party) we have no faculties to comprehend. Why, then, are these subjects preferred to all others? For an obvious cause: to shew how ingenious they can be in perplexing human reason, if any believer should be indiscreet enough to subject these mysterious truths to that test.
But the character, they assume, declares their purpose no less than the arguments they delight to treat. For their pride is to affect a sort of pyrrhonism, or universal doubt and hesitation, even on the plainest points of morals; to controvert the most received principles and opinions; and, as the sophists of old, to make the worse appear the better reason, in all questions which they undertake to discuss. Would you desire a stronger proof of the principle which actuates such men?
II. It appears, then, how the ostentation of wit leads to infidelity. The affectation of COURAGE is another snare to those, who lie in wait for the honour of men.
The believer, it has been observed, presumes not to reason at all on some points of his Religion. In others, he is left at liberty; yet on these, he reasons, always with great reverence and circumspection. Now, though this conduct be highly fit and proper, it is not so likely to strike the observation of men, as a more forward and enterprizing behaviour. Not only his understanding is restrained, but his spirit, they say, is cramped and broken. The inconsiderate world, on the other hand, is taken with bold assertions, and hazardous positions; which it easily construes into a mark of high courage, as well as capacity. A fearless turn of mind is a dazzling quality, and we do not always distinguish between intrepidity and temerity. Thus it comes to pass, that as the Christian’s love of peace and charity in common life, so his cautious respect in religious matters, has been treated by libertine men, as pusillanimity. He is considered, in the fashionable world, as a tame and spiritless man; and in the learned world, as a tame and spiritless reasoner.
Hence, when we are bent, at any rate, upon receiving honour one of another, we are tempted to make a display, not of our wit only, but our courage: And, as nothing is thought a surer indication of this quality, than to make light of that which the rest of the world hold sacred, we easily see how a passion for this sort of fame betrays the unbalanced mind into all the extravagancies of infidelity.
The instances are frequent, and well-known. When the Philosopher of Malmsbury, in the last century, took upon him to resolve all morality and all religion into the will of the magistrate, whatever other end he might have in view, the bold singularity of this paradox was, no doubt, that which chiefly recommended it to himself, as well as surprized the world into an opinion of his bravery: though we know, from his story, that, in fact, he had no more of this virtue, than might well have consisted with faith, and the fear of God. But vain man oft affects to make a shew of that which he does not possess: and thus his defect in true courage, may be the true account of his pretending to so much of it.
Still, the heart of man is more deceitful, than we have hitherto seen, or can easily believe: For who,
III. In the last place, would suspect, that an admiration of INTEGRITY itself, as well as of wit and courage, should seduce the unwary mind into irreligion? Yet so it is, that men, intoxicated with the love of fame, will sacrifice any virtue, the best quality they have, to the reputation of it.
The true believer admits, with a full and perfect assent, whatever he takes to be clearly revealed in the Gospel; the most impenetrable article of his creed, as well as the simplest proposition in morals. All stands with him on the same equal footing of divine authority: no matter, whether he can, or cannot, perceive the grounds of reason, on which the Revelation is founded.
But now this facility of belief, this entire resignation of the understanding to the dictates of Heaven, the world is ready to suspect, of disingenuity. And they who live only in the opinion of that world, would not be exposed to so dishonourable a suspicion.
The process of their vanity may be traced in this manner. They have observed, that some persons (of their acquaintance, it may be) pretend to more faith than they have. They suppose the same thing of many others; and they suppose too, the rest of the world, the more intelligent part of it at least, are in the same opinion. But they pique themselves on their honesty: they will give no man leave to call in question their good faith; the ornament of their lives, and the idol of their hearts. And thus, as many men are ill-bred, for fear of passing in the world for flatterers; so these men are unbelievers, that they may not be accounted hypocrites.
As extravagant as this turn of mind appears, it cannot be thought incredible; especially when united, as it may be, with that pride of understanding, and courage, before mentioned. “It is not for me, (says a presuming inquirer to himself) who am distinguished by a reach of thought and penetration from the vulgar, to admit, without scruple, so extraordinary a system, as that of Revelation. I must doubt and disbelieve, where others see nothing to stop at. Nor is it for a man of my spirit to endure those shackles of reserve and respect, which oppress the timid and servile believer. Above all, it becomes the honesty, I profess, to take no part of my religion upon trust; an easy submission to what is called authority, is, with discerning men, but another name for insincerity. As I tender, then, the reputation of my wit, my courage, and my integrity, it concerns me to take heed how I entertain a belief; which may, at once, shake the credit of all these virtues.”
This train of sophistry, you see, is not ill laid; and one conceives how a mind, transported with the love of false honour, may be caught by it.
At first, perhaps, the disbelief is pretended, only. But pretences127, continued for any time, become realities. And thus, what was assumed, to give us the credit of certain virtues with the world, or with that part of it to which we desire to recommend ourselves, is at length embraced with a sort of good faith; and we are, what we have seemed to be, at the instance indeed of our vanity, but, as we flatter ourselves, for the sake of those very virtues.
Something like this, which I have here described, may have been the case of a well-known philosopher, who would be thought to crown his other parts of ingenuity and courage, with the purest probity128. This unhappy man, having published to the world an offensive system of infidelity, and being called to account for it, replies to his censurer in these words—The world may calumniate me, as it sees fit; but it shall never take from me the honour of being the only author of this age, and of many others, who hath written with good faith129.
What shall we say of this strange boast? Was it enthusiasm, or the pride of virtue, that drew it from him? This honest man, we will say, might believe himself, when he talked at this rate: but then we must conclude, that nothing but the most intemperate love of praise could have wrought him up to so frantic a persuasion.
I suppose, it may now appear how easily we become the dupes of any favourite passion; and how perfect an insight our Lord had into the nature of man, when he asserted in the text—that we cannot believe, if we will receive honour one of another. We cannot, you see, believe; because, if that honour be the ultimate end and scope of our ambition, the best faculties we possess, the fairest virtues of our hearts, will pervert, and, in a manner, force us into infidelity.
Let this humiliating consideration have its full effect upon us. Above all, let it check, or rather regulate that ardent desire of fame, which is so predominant in young and ingenuous minds. Let such learn from it to mistrust their passions, even the most refined and generous, when they would inquire into the evidences of their religion. Let them remember that reason, pure impartial reason, is to direct them in this search; that the passion for honour is in all cases, but particularly in this (where it is so seducing) an unsafe and treacherous guide; and that, to escape the illusions of infidelity and a thousand other illusions, to which they will otherwise be exposed in common life, one certain method will be, To controul their love of fame, by the love of truth; which is, in other words, to seek the honour, that cometh of God, only.
Jesus saith to them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now ye say we see, therefore your sin remaineth.
These words were spoken by our Lord on occasion of a great miracle performed by him, in restoring a man born blind to his sight. This wonderful display of power had its natural effect on the man himself, in converting him to the faith of Jesus; while the Pharisees, who had the fullest evidence laid before them of the fact, persisted obstinately in their infidelity. Yet the blind man, on whom this miracle had been wrought, was one of those whom the Pharisees accounted blind in understanding, also; in other words, he was a plain unlettered man; whereas they themselves were guides to the blind, that is, they pretended to a more than ordinary knowledge of the law and the prophets, by which they were enabled to conduct and enlighten others.
Jesus, therefore, respecting at once his late restoration of the blind man’s sight, and the different effects of that miracle on the minds of the two parties, applies, with singular elegance, to himself, the famous prediction of Isaiah—For judgment, says he, am I come into this world, that they, which see not, might see; and that they who see, might be made blind. The Pharisees were, indeed, sharp-sighted enough to perceive the drift of this application, and therefore said to him, in the same figurative language, Are we blind also? To whom Jesus replied in the words of the text, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now ye say we see, therefore your sin remaineth. As if he had said, “If ye were indeed ignorant of the law and the prophets, as ye account this poor man to be, ye might have some excuse for not believing in me, who appeal to that law and those prophets for the proof of my mission; but being so skilled in them, as ye are, and profess yourselves to be, ye are clearly convicted of a willful, and therefore criminal, infidelity.”
It is implied, we see, in this severe reproof of the Pharisees, that knowledge and faith very well consist together, or rather that, where knowledge is, there faith must needs be, unless a very perverse use be made of that knowledge.
But to this decision of our Lord, the unbelieving world is ready to oppose its own maxims. “It sees so little connexion between faith and knowledge, that it rather concludes them to be incompatible: It allows the ignorant, indeed, who cannot walk by sight, to walk by faith; but, as for the knowing and intelligent, the men of science and understanding, it presumes, that faith cannot be required of these; and that, BECAUSE they see, it is too much to expect of them, to believe in Jesus.”
It is true, the persons, who speak thus slightly of faith, are not the most distinguished in the world by their own parts, or knowledge. But a certain mediocrity of both, inflated by vanity, and countenanced by fashion, is forward to indulge in this free language; and the mischief done by it to Religion, is so great, that it may not be amiss to expose, in few words, the indecency and folly of it.
Faith and knowledge, then, it is said, are at variance with each other. Why? The answer, I suppose, will be, Because faith is in itself unreasonable; in other words, it will be said, That the evidences of our religion are not convincing, and that the doctrines of it are not credible.
One word, then, on each of these bold insinuations.
I. The EVIDENCES of revealed religion are so many and various; they lye so deep, or extend so wide; and consequently the difficulty of collecting them into one view is so great, that few men have, perhaps, comprehended the full force and effect of them. At least, none but persons of very superior industry, as well as understanding, have a right to pronounce on the total amount of such evidence.
But the chief evidences of the Christian Religion are drawn from PROPHECIES, and MIRACLES; and who are they who tell us, that these methods of proof are unreasonable or unsatisfactory?
1. That the argument from PROPHECIES should not convince those, who have not considered the occasion, and design of them, the purposes they were intended to serve, and therefore the degree of light and clearness, with which it was proper they should be given; who have not studied the language in which those prophecies are conveyed, the state of the times in which they were delivered, the manners, the customs, the opinions of those to whom they were addressed; above all, who have not taken the pains to acquire a very exact and extensive knowledge of history, and so are not qualified to judge how far they have been accomplished; that to such persons as these, I say, the argument from prophecy should not appear to have all that evidence which believers ascribe to it, is very likely; but then this effect is to be accounted for, not from their knowledge, but their ignorance, not from their seeing too clearly, but from their not seeing at all, or but imperfectly, into the merits of this argument. As for those, who have searched deepest, and inquired with most care into this kind of evidence, they depose unanimously in its favour, and profess themselves to have received conviction from it. So that, although there may be difficulties in explaining particular prophecies, and though the completion of some be questioned, or not fully apprehended, yet, on the whole, there is so much light arising out of this evidence, that it must be great presumption in any man to say that there is no strength at all in it. Indeed, if the appeal lie to authority (as it must do, if men will not, or cannot, inquire for themselves) we can scarce help concluding that the argument from prophecy carries with it a very considerable degree of evidence, since we find that such a man as Newton, not only submitted to this evidence himself, but thought it no misapplication of his great talents, to illustrate and enforce it. Yet, such is the judgment or temper of our leaders130 in infidelity, that they had rather turn this very circumstance to the discredit of human nature itself (exhibited in its fairest form, and shining out with full lustre, in the virtues and accomplishments of that divine man) than allow it to do honour to that immortal object of their fear and spite, revealed religion.
2. The other great foundation of our faith is laid in MIRACLES; a sort of evidence, which may be estimated without that learning, or that sagacity, which is required in the case of prophecies; and which some men therefore, out of the abundance of their common sense, have taken the freedom to account of little weight or value. Yet, what opinion soever these persons may have of their own understandings, they will scarce be able to convince a reasonable man that this evidence is not conclusive, and even incontestible, if they will but place it in a fair and just light. For the question is not concerning the evidence of miracles in general, but of miracles so circumstanced and so attested as those of the Gospel. Now, when the Religion to which this attestation is given, has nothing in it which appears unworthy of the Deity; when the purpose for which the supposed miracles are wrought is such as must be allowed the most important of any that, in our ideas, could enter into the divine counsels with regard to mankind; when these miracles have further the advantage of being attested by the most unexceptionable characters, and of being recorded in books, written soon after they were wrought, and by those who saw them wrought, and in books too, which have been transmitted, without any note of suspicion on them, to our times; when, lastly, these miracles have all the circumstances of public notoriety attending them, when no contemporary evidence discredits, and when many otherwise inexplicable facts and events, suppose and confirm them; when such miracles, I say, as these, and under such circumstances only, are alledged in support of the Christian Revelation, it must be a very extraordinary turn of mind that can reject, as nothing, the evidence resulting from them. With any other miracles, however numerous, however confidently asserted, or plausibly set forth, we have nothing to do. There may have been ten thousand impostures of this sort, in the world. But these miracles speak their own credibility so strongly, that they are admitted, on human testimony, with the highest reason; and it must be more than a slender metaphysical argument, taken from their contrariety to what is called experience, which can prevent our belief of them, and overpower the natural sense of the human mind.
It seems then, even on this slight view of the subject, that, if these two capital arguments from prophecies and miracles, for the truth of Christianity, appear inconclusive to unbelievers, the cause must be some other than a want of that evidence, which may satisfy a reasonable man.
II. But, perhaps the DOCTRINES of Christianity are such as revolt the rational mind, and are not capable of being supported by any evidence.
Let us inquire then what truth there is in this second allegation of unbelievers.
It is not possible, in a discourse of this nature, to enter into a detail on the subject; but the chief obstacles to a faith in Jesus, independently of the evidence on which it rests, are, I suppose, these TWO.
1. A confused idea that the law of nature is sufficient to the salvation of mankind;
2. The mysterious nature of the Christian revelation.
Reason, they say, is a sufficient guide in matters of Religion; therefore, Christianity is unnecessary: Again, Christianity is all over mysterious; therefore, it is unreasonable.
Now, it will not be presuming too much to say, that the greater advances any man makes in true knowledge, the more insignificant must these two great stumbling-blocks of infidelity needs appear to him.
1. And, first, for the sufficiency of nature in matters of religion.
Whether nature be a sufficient guide in morals, let the history of mankind declare. They who know most of that history, and have, besides, a philosophic knowledge of human nature, are the proper judges of the question; and to that tribunal I leave it: the rather, because, though it be very clear what its decision must be, I hold, that what is most essential to the Christian religion (which is a very different thing from a republication of the law of nature) is not at all concerned in it.
Let the law of nature be what it will, under this idea of a guide in morals, let Socrates, if you please, be as great a master of it, as Jesus, still the importance of Christianity remains, and is indeed very little affected by that concession.
Our religion teaches, that man is under the sentence of mortality, and that immortal life in happiness, (which is the true idea of Gospel-salvation) is the gift of God through Christ Jesus. These it relates as two facts, which it requires us to believe on its own authority; facts, which could not otherwise have come to our knowledge, and on which the whole superstructure of Christianity is raised.
Now, let the men of reason, the men who say, WE SEE, tell us, whether they are sure that these facts are false; and, if they are not, whether they know of any natural means by which that sentence of mortality can be reversed, or that gift of immortality can be secured.
Yes, they will say, by a moral and virtuous life, and by a religious trust, which nature dictates, in the goodness of the Deity. What? Is any man so assured of his own virtue, as that he dares expect so great things from it? Does he think it so perfect and of such efficacy, as that it should remove a curse which lies on his nature, that it should redeem him from a general sentence, which is gone forth against all mankind? Is it not enough, that he does his duty (though where is the man that does that?) and thereby consults his own true interest in this world, without requiring that his merits should deliver him from the doom of death; or that, of force, they should compel the divine goodness to deliver him from it?
But say, that the boundless mercy of God might so far consider the poor imperfect virtues of his lost creature, as to free him from the bondage of death, will he pretend that he has any claim, even upon infinite goodness itself, for eternal life in glory? All that reason suggests is, that, some way or other, either in this state or in one to come, he shall be no loser by his virtue: but so immense a reward is surely, not of right; and reason is too modest to entertain the least expectation, or even thought of it.
You see then what the sufficiency of nature comes to: It leaves us, for any thing we know, under the sentence of death; and, for any thing we can do, very much short of eternal life. And is this all we get by following nature, as our all-sufficient guide, and rejecting the assistance of Revelation? Are men satisfied to live, as they do here, and then to die for ever; and all this, rather than condescend to lay hold on the mercy of God through Jesus? If they are, their ambition is very moderate; but, surely, this is not a moderation of that sort which is prescribed by reason.
2. But they fly now (and it is their last resource) to the mysterious nature of the dispensation itself, which, they say, is perfectly irreconcileable with the principles of natural reason.
That Christianity is mysterious, that is, that it acquaints us with many things which our faculties could not have discovered, and which they cannot fully comprehend or satisfactorily explain, is an undoubted truth.—The pride of reason, when, from human sciences, where it saw much and thought it saw every thing, it turns to these divine studies, is something mortified to find a representation of things very different from what it should previously have conceived, and impenetrable in many respects by its utmost diligence and curiosity. But then, when further exercised and improved, the same reason presently checks this presumption, as seeing very clearly, that there are inexplicable difficulties every where, in the world of nature, as well as in that of grace, and as seeing too, that, if both systems be the product of infinite wisdom, it could not be otherwise. Next, a thinking man, as his knowledge extends, and his mind opens, easily apprehends, that, in such a scheme as that of Christianity, which runs up into the arcana of the divine councils in regard to man, there will be many particulars of a new and extraordinary nature; and that such a dispensation must partake of the obscurity in which its divine Author chuses to veil his own glory.
Thus, we see, how the objections to the mysterious nature of the Gospel spring out of pride and inconsideration, and are gradually removed, as the mind advances in the further knowledge of God and itself.
Now, suppose there had been no mysterious parts in this Revelation, and that every thing had lain clear and open to the comprehension of natural reason, what would the improved understanding of a wise man have thought of it? Would he not have said, that the whole was of mere human contrivance? since, if it were indeed of divine, it must needs have spoken its original by some marks of divinity, that is, by some signatures of incomprehensible wisdom, impressed upon it. Consider, I say, whether this judgment would not have been made of such a Revelation; and whether there be not more sense and reason in it, than in that other conclusion which many have drawn from the mysterious nature of the Christian religion.
It may appear, from these cursory observations, that faith and knowledge are no such enemies to each other, as they have been sometimes represented; and that neither the evidences of Christianity, nor the doctrines of it, need decline the scrutiny of the most improved reason. Conclude, therefore, when ye hear a certain language on this subject, that it is equally foolish, as it is indecent; and that ye may safely profess a belief in Jesus, without risking the reputation of your wisdom.
Another conclusion is, that, when unbelievers lay claim to a more than ordinary share of sense and penetration, we may allow their claim, if we see fit, for other reasons, but NOT for their disdainful rejection of our divine religion. We must have better proofs of their sufficiency than this, before we subscribe to it. We may even be allowed to conclude, from this circumstance of their unbelief, that they either see not so clearly as they pretend, or that the case is still worse with them, if they do. They are ready to ask us, indeed, in the prompt language of the Pharisees to our Lord, Are we blind also? To which question, having such an answer at hand, we need look out for no other than that of Jesus, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now ye say we see, THEREFORE your sin remaineth.
Knowledge puffeth up; but Charity edifieth.
There is none of our little accomplishments, or advantages, which we are not apt to make the foundation of pride and vanity. When, upon comparing ourselves with others, in any respect, we entertain a higher opinion of ourselves than we ought, this sentiment is called PRIDE. And when we are forward to express the good opinion, we have of ourselves, to others, in our words or actions, (even though such opinion be but proportioned to our desert) we give to this disposition the name of VANITY. Each of these affections of the mind is, a real vice: Pride, because it violates truth and reason; and Vanity, because it violates Christian charity.
But, of all the subjects of comparison which betray us into these vices, none is thought to produce them so easily, and to inflame them to that degree, as learning or knowledge. And we see the reason why it should be so. For knowledge arises from the exertion of our best and noblest faculties; those faculties which distinguish us to most advantage, not only from the inferior creatures, but from each other. Hence we are naturally led to place a higher value on this, than other acquisitions; and to make our pride and boast of that which is, indeed, the glory of our nature.
The observation then seems well founded; and the Apostle advances no more than what experience teaches, when he affirms in the text—THAT KNOWLEDGE PUFFETH UP. Where, however, we are to take notice, that the remedy for this vice is not ignorance (which, though for different reasons, is as apt to engender pride and self-conceit, as knowledge itself) but Christian love and charity. For, when the Apostle had brought this charge against knowledge, that it puffeth up, he does not say that ignorance keeps men humble, but that charity edifieth. Whence it appears, that, to correct this excess of self-love, which we call pride, the Apostle would not have us renounce the way of learning and knowledge, but only increase our love and respect for mankind.
Charity, then, is the proper cure of LEARNED PRIDE; and of those unfriendly vices, which spring from it, sufficiency, self-importance, and ostentation: And it will be worth our while to consider, in what RESPECTS, and by what MEANS, this divine principle of charity contributes to that end. And this it does
1. By keeping men steady to that OBJECT, which they ought to propose to themselves in the cultivation of knowledge, I mean the edification of each other—charity edifieth.
One of the ancient sects of philosophy carried their admiration of knowledge so far, that they made it the supreme good of man, and built their whole moral system (if it might be called such) on this extravagant idea. Whereas, common sense, as well as religion, teaches, that knowledge, like our other faculties and attainments, is only an instrument of doing good to others; not to be regarded by us, as the end of moral action, or a good simply in itself, but as one of those means by which we may express our moral character; and promote the common interest of society, which (in subordination to the will and glory of God) is the proper end of man. Now, if we keep this end in view, which Christian charity sets before us, we shall neither cultivate knowledge for its own sake (which is a strain of fanaticism, unsuited to our present condition); nor for the sake of that complacency, which may be apt to result from it; nor solely, for any other selfish purpose to which it may serve: but we shall chiefly and ultimately refer it to the use and edification of our brother; and shall therefore suppress that inordinate elation of heart and display of vain-glory, which tend so much to obstruct the success of our applications to him in this way.
2. Charity, estimating the value of knowledge by the good it actually does to others, finds the very foundation of pride and vanity, in the application of it, in a great measure taken away. For, how divine a thing soever knowledge may appear to the mind, when heated by speculation, we shall find, in practice, that it falls very much short of those glorious ideas we had formed of it; that the real service, we are enabled to do to mankind by our most improved faculties, affords but little occasion to the gratulations of self-esteem (which, when resulting from such service, are, no doubt, more pardonable than in any other case whatsoever); and that, if such gratulations arise in us from some slight and partial services done to others, they are sufficiently checked and mortified by the general ill success of our most strenuous endeavours, and best concerted designs. The philosopher and divine, after many studious days and sleepless nights, are ready to promise to themselves great effects from their systems and apologies. Alas, the world is little bettered or improved by them. Its amusements, its follies, its vices, take their usual course. Reason and knowledge are found but feeble instruments of its conversion. It attends so little, or so negligently to its instructors, that it remains almost as uninformed, and as corrupt as before.
Such is too commonly the issue of our best pains in the cultivation of moral and religious truth! Or, if in some rare cases it be otherwise, and some sensible, some considerable, benefit result from them, still it will be far less than the good man wishes and intends. For, burning with this holy zeal of love to mankind, the charitable instructor of the ignorant is in the condition of HIM, whose ambitious zeal the poet so well describes: His successes do but inflame his desires; and he reckons he has done nothing, so long as there remains any thing for him to do131.
So certainly does charity, in this work of learned instruction, disconcert and subdue all the projects and emotions of pride!
3. Charity takes a sure way to counteract those movements of vanity and self-applause, which the pursuits of knowledge are apt to excite, by confining our attention to solid and important subjects. For, when the mind is thus employed, it naturally refers its acquisitions to use, not vanity; or, if vanity should still find room to spring up with this crop of useful knowledge, its growth would be much checked by this benevolent and social attention: It would either die away amidst these higher regards of duty and public spirit, or would lose at least very much of its malignant nature, and of those qualities which render it so offensive to mankind. Whereas, when we employ ourselves on frivolous or unimportant subjects, which offer nothing to our view besides the ingenuity of the speculation, and the distinction of the pursuit, these ideas are so present to the mind, and engross it so much, that vanity and self-esteem almost necessarily spring from them, luxuriant and unrestrained.
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 rhetorician132 is said to have boasted, in the hearing of all Greece, that he knew every thing, the sober moralist of Athens133 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 Heaven134, “Though I understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and have not charity, I am nothing135.”