Modern Skepticism: A Journey Through the Land of Doubt and Back Again Part 20

Paley, both in his Natural Theology and in his evidences of Christianity, seemed to be almost all that I could desire, and I rested in him for a length of time with great satisfaction. But I read him only once, and I ought, for a time at least, to have made him my daily study, and imprinted his work on my mind, as I did the work of Grotius.

7. Many writers on the Bible attempted to settle points which could not be settled. They tried to make out the authors of all the books in the Bible, and this was found impossible. Different writers ascribed books to different authors. The Book of Job was ascribed by one writer to Job himself, by another to Moses, and by a third to Elihu. The Book of Ecclesiastes was ascribed by some to Solomon, by others to a writer of a later age. Writers differed with regard to the authors.h.i.+p of many of the Psalms and many of the Proverbs. They differed with regard to the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, and the Book of Revelation, and even with regard to some of the Gospels. They multiplied controversies instead of ending them, and in some cases made matters seem doubtful that were not so.

8. The writers on evidences often attempted to prove points which were not true, and which, if they had been true, would have been no credit to the Bible or Christianity. Some of them spent more time in laboring to prove that Christianity taught doctrines which it did not teach, than in proving that the doctrines which it did teach were 'worthy of all acceptation.' Some left the impression that Christianity was a ma.s.s of vain, improbable, and incomprehensible doctrines, calculated neither to satisfy man's intellect nor his conscience, neither to renovate his heart, nor improve his life, nor increase his happiness. Such writers served the cause of infidelity rather than the cause of Christ.

9. Some, like Hartwell Horne, gave so many rules for interpreting the Bible, and required such a mult.i.tude of rare qualifications to fit a man for being a Bible student, that they left the impression on one's mind that the Book must be utterly unintelligible to people at large. And they directed the attention of their readers so much to matters of little or no moment, that they lost sight of the matters which the Bible was specially intended to teach and impress on men's minds and hearts.

10. Many dwelt so much on things doubtful, that they left the impression on the minds of their readers, that there was little or nothing but what _was_ doubtful. They busied themselves so much in answering objections, that they left the impression that there was little or nothing but what was open to objections. They had so little to say about what was true, and good, and glorious beyond all question, that they left people in doubt whether there was any thing past question or controversy in Christianity or not.

11. And many treated the subject so coolly or carelessly, that they abated rather than increased the interest of their readers in religious matters.

12. And the great ma.s.s of writers followed one another so servilely,--they wrote so much by rote, and so little from experience or real knowledge, that all seemed cold and formal, uninteresting and unprofitable. It was a rare thing to come across a writer that touched the heart, or even satisfied the judgment.

13. And they often labored hard and long to prove points of little or no importance, while points of greatest moment were left untouched, or handled so unskillfully as to do harm rather than good.

14. And almost all had unauthorized and unscriptural theories of Scripture inspiration, which it was impossible for them to prove, and which they so manifestly failed to prove, that a critical reader could not but see their failure. They tried to justify expressions and actions which could not be justified, and to reconcile differences which did not admit of reconciliation.

15. Even the historical arguments of Paley and Grotius consisted of so many particulars, and carried one so far back into regions with which one was so imperfectly acquainted, and into states of society which it was so difficult for one to realize, that it was impossible they should have much power over the heart; and the little they had was soon lost, when their books were laid aside. Even when we remembered the facts, and could run them over in our minds, we could not feel the force of the argument based on them, or use it so as to make it felt by others.

The historical argument drawn from miracles never exerted much satisfying power on my mind for any length of time. I could remember that it _had_ satisfied me once, but that was not to feel its satisfying power then. And you could not go back to your books continually, and pore over the arguments forever. So that long before I became a doubter, I felt that the historical argument could never be useful to people generally, either in producing faith where it was not, or in perpetuating it where it was. I was sure that if mankind at large were to be brought to receive and cherish Christianity, it must be by proofs of a simpler and more popular kind, which people could feel, and carry along with them in their hearts as well as in their heads. And now I see most clearly that I was right. Miracles had a use, and I may show what it was by and by; but it was not the use to which they have been so often and so vainly applied.

16. The writers on prophecy were as unsatisfactory as those on miracles.

They often handled the prophecies unfairly if not deceitfully. They treated as absolute prophecies, prophecies which were expressly conditional. And they lost sight of the fact, so plainly stated in Jeremiah xviii, that all prophetic promises and threatenings are conditional. Then they took one bit of a prophecy and left another: kept out of sight predictions which had not been fulfilled, and dwelt exclusively on phrases which had been fulfilled.

They dealt deceitfully with history as well as prophecy. They made or modified facts. They gave fanciful interpretations to prophecies. And they tried to make prophecy prove what it could not prove, however unquestionable and miraculous the fulfilment might be. The manner in which Nelson and Keith dealt with prophecy was often childish, and even dishonest. A careful examination of their works left a most painful impression on my mind.

What Albert Barnes says about much of the reasoning of preachers and divines is applicable to this cla.s.s of writers more than to some others.

'A great part of the reasoning founded upon prophecies is unsound. Much of the reasoning employed by the early Christian Fathers, by the Schoolmen, and by the Reformers had no intrinsic force: it was based on ignorance and error. Yet theologians are p.r.o.ne to cling to it. They forget the age in which they live. They linger, they live, among the shades of the past. Their thoughts, their dialect, their way of reasoning are all of other days.

'The quality of another kind of reasoning common among divines is, that it is not understood by the ma.s.s of men, and that it does not seem to be understood by those who use it.'

17. In the following paragraph he speaks important words about theology as well as about theological reasoning.

'There is much theology,' says he, 'that a good man cannot preach. It would shock his own feelings; it would contradict his prayers; it would be fatal to all his efforts to do good; it would drive off the sinner to a hopeless distance, though he had begun to return to G.o.d; it would be at war with the elementary convictions which men have of what must be true. Among the doctrines of this theology are those,--that Christ died for the salvation of only a part of mankind,--that we are to blame for Adam's sin,--condemned for an act done ages before we were born.

'The theology that should be preached to make the pulpit what it should be, should be based on obvious and honest principles of Scripture interpretation. The preacher is the interpreter of a book, and he should be the voice, the organ, of its true and natural meaning. Nothing should be misquoted; nothing should be perverted or misapplied. His interpretation should be seen and felt to be in harmony with the scope, the drift, the spirit, the aim of the Bible. The success of preaching has been greatly hindered by false principles of Biblical interpretation. In interpreting other books men have gone on rational principles; but in interpreting the Bible they have gone on principles quite irrational. They have sought for double senses, and mystical meanings, and used texts as proofs of doctrines, that had no reference to the doctrines whatever. Metaphors and symbols have had all possible meanings forced on them. Infidels and men of the world are approached with arguments that are little less than insults to their understandings. They are disgusted, instead of being convinced. They are led to look on the Bible with disdain. They are willing to remain infidels, rather than become idiots. One is pained and sickened that such a mult.i.tude of impertinent and inapplicable texts should be brought as proofs of Christian doctrine;--texts applicable to anything else rather than the points under consideration. Even Dr. Edwards misuses texts of Scripture thus. The Bible is to be interpreted as other books are. Men are not to hide themselves in the mist of a hidden meaning, and shock the common sense of the world. Preachers should go on the supposition, that in every congregation there are shrewd and sagacious men, who can appreciate a good argument, and see the weakness of a bad one; men who can appreciate a good sermon, if there be a good sermon to be appreciated. For such, he may be a.s.sured, is the fact.'

All these unwise things had a tendency to shake my faith in writers on the evidences, to lessen my interest in the subject, to abate my confidence in the knowledge and integrity of the authors, and to diminish my faith in the supernatural origin of the Bible and Christianity.

18. The evidences that had most weight with me were the internal evidences. But these were often handled in an unsatisfactory way. The greater part of Soame Jenyns' little work was good, as far as it went; but it went only a very short way. It took a step or two, in the most difficult, doubtful, and uninviting part of the road, but it left the vast paradise of internal evidences unexplored, and even unapproached.

His work was rather an apology for Christianity, proving that it was not open to censure, than a demonstration of its incalculable worth and power.

I did not myself see clearly at the time, that the adaptation of Christianity to man's wants, to man's nature, and its tendency to promote man's temporal as well as his spiritual welfare, was really a proof of its divine origin. I saw that it was a valid answer to the infidel objection that it was useless or mischievous; but not that it was a decisive proof of its divinity. Hence though I employed it as a refutation of infidel charges against Christianity, I never pressed it further.

And though I got at length much larger views of the excellency of Christianity than those presented by Soame Jenyns, I saw not half, I saw not a tenth of its worth and glory. I saw not a tenth even of what I see now. I now see there are no limits to the excellency of Christianity, or to the power of the argument supplied by its glorious character, in proof of its divinity.

And the worth and excellency of Christianity you can carry continually in your mind. They present themselves whenever you open the Gospels, or look at Jesus. They move you whenever you think of the happy effect Christianity has had on your own hearts and lives. They come to your minds whenever you look on the prevailing vices and miseries of society, which result from a want of Christianity. They touch your heart, as well as convince your judgment. But I neither saw them in their true light nor in their full extent before I fell into doubt; so that they were unable to make up for the deficiency in the external evidences, and to check my growing tendency to unbelief.

19. There were other influences that helped me down to unbelief.

Negative criticism, pulling things to pieces with a view to find faults, to which our modern philosophers give the fine name of _a.n.a.lysis_, tends to cause doubt about every thing. It eats out of one the very soul of truth, of love, and of faith. It tends naturally to kill all our good instincts and natural affections, and to render not only religion, but philosophy, virtue and happiness impossible. The Cartesian system of reasoning, which begins by calling in question every thing, and which refuses to believe anything without formal proof, is essentially vicious. The man who adopts it and carries it out thoroughly, must necessarily become an infidel, not only in religion, but in morals and philosophy. And he must become intolerably miserable, and destroy himself, unless, like John S. Mill, he can find out some method of deceiving himself.

And this is the system of reasoning now in vogue. This vicious system I adopted, and it hastened my fall into unbelief as a matter of course.

Not one of all the most important things on earth admits of proof in this formal way. You cannot prove your own existence in this way. You cannot prove the existence of the universe. You cannot prove the existence of G.o.d. You cannot prove that there are such things as vice and virtue, good and evil. You cannot prove that men ought to marry, rear families, form governments, live in society, tell the truth, be honest, restrain their appet.i.tes and pa.s.sions, or abstain from treachery and murder. All reasonings in favor of religion, virtue, society, philosophy, must rest on a.s.sumptions,--must take a number of things for granted,--must take for granted the truth and goodness of those instincts, sentiments, and natural affections which constrain us to be religious, social, and moral, independent of argument. All reasoning, to be of any use, must begin, not with doubt, but belief. The reasoning that begins with doubting every thing, and accepting nothing till it is proved by formal argument, will end in doubt of every thing that ought to be believed. It will end, not only in Atheism, but in boundless immorality, and in utter wretchedness and ruin. The man who would not be undone by his logic, must pity Descartes instead of admiring him, and instead of following him go just the contrary way. Descartes made a fool of himself, or his method of reasoning made a fool of him, the very first time he used it. His very first argument was a fallacy and a folly. He pretended, first, to doubt, and then to prove, his own existence. His argument was, 'I think; therefore I _exist_:' as if he could be more sure that he _thought_, than he was that he existed. He took his existence for granted when he said 'I think.'

20. Other things helped on the horrible change that was taking place in my soul. I got a taste for reading a different kind of works from those which I had been accustomed to read. I turned away from works on religion and duty, and began to read the works of the critical, destructive party. I turned away even from the best practical writers of the orthodox school, such as Baxter, Tillotson and Barrow, and read Theodore Parker, Martineau, W. F. Newman, W. J. Fox, and Froude. I also read Carlyle, Emerson, and W. Mackay, the metaphysical bore, and C.

Mackay, the charming, fascinating, but not Christian poet. Theodore Parker became my favorite among the prose writers. His beautiful style and practical lessons had already reconciled me to his harsh expressions about the Bible, and to his contemptuous treatment of miracles; and now I had degenerated so far that I liked him for those very faults.

I read the writings of the American Abolitionists, all of which tended to draw me from the Church and the Bible, and to bring me more fully under skeptical influences. I began to look more freely and frequently into works of science, and most of those waged covert war with supernaturalism, and sought to bring down the Bible and Christianity to the level of ordinary human thought. All ideas of authority in books and religious systems, in ecclesiastical and social inst.i.tutions, gradually faded away. All ideas of superhuman authority, or divine obligation, in marriage, in home, and in family life vanished. All things lost their sacredness, and came down to the vulgar level of mere human opinion, or of personal interest, convenience, or pleasure.

21. There was a change in my companions. Those who had high and holy thoughts of all things, and whose meat and drink it was to do good, withdrew from me; and men and women came around me who cared only for earth and self; whose talk was of gain, and fas.h.i.+on, and self-indulgence; and whose desire it was to silence conscience, and to stifle thoughts of duty.

22. I ceased to pray. I had already given up family prayer. I now gave up private prayer. I gave up prayer altogether. I had impulses to prayer, but I resisted them. Prayer was irrational, according to the new philosophy, and must be discarded.

23. And praise and thanksgiving went next. What reason could there be for telling an all-wise G.o.d what you thought of Him, or how you felt towards Him? And besides, it now began to appear that G.o.d had not been so very bountiful as to deserve either high commendation, or enthusiastic thanksgiving.

24. I had fresh work. Politics first got into partners.h.i.+p with my religion, and then turned religion out of the concern. And politics, severed from religion, soon become selfish, and even devilish. So long as Christian philanthropy occupied my thoughts and feelings, it helped religiousness; but when it gave way to polities, my religiousness declined, languished, and died.

25. I began to indulge in amus.e.m.e.nts. Chess, drafts, cards, concerts, theatres, and feasting asked for a portion of my time and money, and I gave it to them. I began to think of pleasure more than of usefulness; to live for myself rather than for others; and the higher virtues and religion went down together.

26. My position improved. I pa.s.sed from poverty to comparative wealth.

This helped my degeneracy. I had more abundant means of self-indulgence, and I began, though slowly, timidly, and with misgivings, and self-reproaches, and occasional fits of remorse, to use them for selfish, worldly purposes. G.o.d had given me more, so I gave Him less.

Jeshurun waxed fat and kicked. Jesus knew what He was saying when He warned people against the danger, the deceitfulness, of riches.

27. I was often uneasy during the decline of religion in my soul, but philosophy had its anodynes, its soothing syrups, its dreamy, delusive, spiritual drugs. It could flatter, it could cheat, in the most approved fas.h.i.+on. It could bewitch, intoxicate, and take captive the whole soul,--judgment, conscience, fancy, everything.

Satan can put on the appearance of an 'angel of light.' He can talk religion. He can talk philanthropy. He can preach the most beautiful doctrines. He can use the most charming words. At the very moment that he is destroying religion and virtue, he can speak of them in the highest terms, and even sing of them in the sweetest strains. He can talk of liberty in the most swelling, high-sounding, and fascinating style, while all the time he is making men the most degraded and miserable slaves. He can lead people, singing and dancing, laughing and shouting, through a philosopher's paradise, to a purgatory of guilt and horror. And all the time he will preach to them the finest doctrines; the most exalted sentiments. 'Religion!--everything is religion, that is in accordance with the laws of our own nature, that is suitable to our position and relations, that helps our brothers or our families. And all truth is religious truth. All science is divine revelation. All laws are G.o.d's laws, except the arbitrary laws of men. All work is divine work, if it be according to nature. All useful work is religion.

Farming, trade, government, are all religion. So are waking and sleeping. They are all divine ordinances; they are all divine service.

All good work is wors.h.i.+p. Singing foolish hymns, reading foolish lessons, preaching foolish sermons, offering foolish prayers, in unhealthy churches, half stifled with foul air, are not religion.

Religion is the free and natural utterance of great, true thoughts, of good and generous feelings, of nature's own rich sentiments and inspirations. The flowery fields, the shadowy woods, the lofty mountains are n.o.bler places of wors.h.i.+p than the dark and damp cathedral; and the fresh air of heaven is a diviner inspiration than carbonic acid gas. And the sun is a diviner light than waxen tapers, explosive lamps, or oxygen-consuming gas. And the gorgeous sun-tinted clouds are grander and more beautiful than painted windows! G.o.d's temple is all s.p.a.ce; His altar; earth, air, skies! His ministers are sun, moon, stars; birds, beasts, and flowers. Nature is G.o.d's revelation; the true Bible; written in an universal language; speaking to all eyes; needing no translation; in danger of no interpolation, alteration, or mutilation. Man is the true Shekinah,--the veritable image, the real glory, the true revelation and manifestation of G.o.d. Man is the saviour of man: the teacher, the guide, the comforter of man. Every one, male or female, is a servant, a minister of G.o.d. All are priests. All are kings. The truth makes us free: free from all authorities, but the authority of G.o.d,--G.o.d in the soul. Christ is our brother, not our master. He is a helper, not a ruler. And all are helpers of each other. All are saviours. All are Christs. Inspiration is not a matter of time, or place, or person. It is eternal and universal. It is in all, and it endures forever. Every good book is a Bible. Every good hymn or song is a holy psalm. Purity of body is holiness, as well as purity of mind. Every day is a sabbath, a holy day. Every place is holy ground. The Church of G.o.d is the human race.

All are G.o.d's disciples, under training by nature's operations, and by the events of daily life. The earth is G.o.d's great school-house; mankind are one great school; G.o.d is our chief Master; the universe is our lesson book, and all we are ushers and under teachers. All things are our helpers, not masters;--our servants, not lords. They are made for us, not we for them; and must be used so as to make them answer their ends. The Sabbath was made for man; not man for the Sabbath. Bibles are for men, not men for Bibles. Governments, churches, authorities, laws, inst.i.tutions, customs, events, suns, moons, stars, systems, atoms, elements, all are made for man, and to man's interest and pleasure they must be subordinated. All must be changed to meet man's changing wants.

Nothing is ent.i.tled to be permanent, but that which answers beneficently to something permanent in man. Man is lord of the universe. Man is lord of himself. Man is his own rightful governor. Man is his own law. His nature is his law. Each individual man is his own law. Individualities are divine, and must be respected; respected by laws and governments.

Law must yield to individuality; not individuality to law. Individuality is sacred. The individuality of the individual is his life, and must be fostered. It is a new manifestation of G.o.d. As to means of grace,--all expressions and interchanges of kind feeling are means of grace. Shaking hands is a means of grace. Free, friendly talk, a concert or a song, a social ride, a family feast, a social gathering, a pleasant chat, a game at whist, all are means of grace. All are holy to holy souls. All are pure to pure minds. Eating, drinking, sleeping are all divine ordinances. Religion, in its higher and more enlightened form, raises our views of all things; makes all things beautiful; all things glorious. It does not bring down the high and holy; but lifts up all things to a divine level. It desecrates no temple; but consecrates the universe. It breaks no Sabbath; but makes every day a Sabbath, and all time one lengthened holy day. It degrades no priest; but makes all men priests. It does not bring down the high, but raises the low. It denies not heaven; but brings down heaven to earth. Everywhere is heaven.

G.o.d's kingdom is an universal kingdom. His presence, His throne, His glory, are everywhere, and heaven is all around us and within us. The universe is heaven.' Thus spake the devil.

And now came in his progressive poets to give those broad, those high, those rational, those philosophical principles, this theology and religion of advanced humanity, this Church and wors.h.i.+p of the future, the fascination of their ecstatic genius, and all the charms of numbers, rhyme, and melody. 'My religion is love,' sings one, 'the richest and fairest.' 'Abou Ben Adhem,' sings another. 'He loves not G.o.d; but loves G.o.d's creature man. Give him a place,--the highest place,--in heaven.'

Another sings, 'The poor man's Sunday walk.' The advanced religionist, addressing his wife, exclaims,

The morning of our rest has come, The sun is s.h.i.+ning clear; I see it on the steeple-top: Put on your shawl, my dear, And let us leave the smoky town, The dense and stagnant lane, And take our children by the hand To see the fields again.

I've pined for air the livelong week; For the smell of new-mown hay; For a pleasant, quiet, country walk, On a sunny Sabbath day.

Our parish church is cold and damp; I need the air and sun; We'll sit together on the gra.s.s, And see the children run.

We'll watch them gather b.u.t.ter-cups, Or cowslips in the dell, Or listen to the cheerful sounds Of the far-off village bell; And thank our G.o.d with grateful hearts, Though in the fields we pray; And bless the healthful breeze of heaven, On a sunny Sabbath day.

I'm weary of the stifling room, Where all the week we're pent; Of the alley fill'd with wretched life, And odors pestilent: And long once more to see the fields, And the grazing sheep and beeves; To hear the lark amid the clouds, And the wind among the leaves; And all the sounds that glad the air On green hills far away:-- The sounds that breathe of Peace and Love, On a sunny Sabbath day.

For somehow, though they call it wrong, In church I cannot kneel With half the natural thankfulness And piety I feel When out, on such a day as this, I lie upon the sod, And think that every leaf and flower Is grateful to its G.o.d; That I, who feel the blessing more, Should thank Him more than they, That I can elevate my soul On a sunny Sabbath day.

Put on your shawl, and let us go; For one day let us think Of something else than daily care, Or toil, and meat, and drink: For one day let our children sport And feel their limbs their own: For one day let us quite forget The grief that we have known:-- Let us forget that we are poor; And, basking in the ray, Thank G.o.d that we can still enjoy A sunny Sabbath day.