Human Sacrifices.
I refuse to accept the Bible as a moral guide because it sanctions human sacrifices.
“No devoted thing, that a man shall devote unto the Lord of all that he hath, both of man and beast, and of the field of his possession, shall be sold or redeemed; every devoted thing is most holy unto the Lord. None devoted, which shall be devoted of men, shall be redeemed; but shall surely be put to death” (Lev. xxvii, 28, 29).
God commands Abraham to sacrifice his son:
“Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering” (Gen. xxii, 2).
The order was countermanded, but the perusal of this text has driven thousands to insanity and murder.
That a famine may cease, David sacrifices the sons of Saul:
“Wherefore David said unto the Gibeonites, What shall I do for you? and wherewith shall I make the atonement, that ye may bless the inheritance of the Lord?... And they answered the king, The man that consumed us and devised against us.... Let seven men of his sons be delivered unto us, and we will hang them up unto the Lord.... And the king said, I will give them. And he delivered them unto the hands of the Gibeonites, and they hanged them in the hill before the Lord; and they fell all seven together, and were put to death in the days of the harvest” (2 Sam. xxi).
The sacrifice, we are told, was accepted, and the famine ceased.
Five of these innocent victims, if the Bible be true, were the sons of Michal, David’s own wife. Two were the sons of Rizpah. Throughout that long summer—from April till October—in the heat and glare of the day and the chill and darkness of the night, Rizpah, broken-hearted, tenderly watches and protects the decaying bodies of her dead sons and relatives.
“And Rizpah the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night.”
When I dwell on this dark tragedy, and contrast the love and devotion of this agonized and despairing Hebrew mother with the malignant hatred and heartless cruelty of this Bible God and his despicable agent, humanity rises to the highest heaven and divinity sinks to the lowest hell.
The pathetic story of Jephthah’s daughter is familiar to all. Jephthah is a warrior, and makes a vow that if he is permitted to conquer the children of Ammon, upon his return the first that meets him at the door will be offered up for a burnt offering unto the Lord. He is successful; the Lord permits him to defeat the children of Ammon. Upon his return the first to meet him is his daughter, an only child. He tells her of his vow. She prays for two brief months to live. Her prayer is granted, and at the expiration of this time, the Bible tells us that Jephthah “did with her according to the vow which he had vowed” (Jud. xi, 26–40).
Describing the fulfilment of this terrible vow, Dr. Oort says:
“This victim, crowned with flowers, was led round the altar with music and song in honor of Yahweh. She met her cruel fate without shrinking. But who shall say how sick at heart her father was when he struck that fatal blow with his own hand and saw the blood of his darling child poured out upon the sacred stone, while her body was burned upon the altar?” (Bible for Learners, Vol. I., p. 408.)
“In that frightful sacrifice that he performed—breaking the holiest domestic ties—we do but see the disastrous results of a mistaken faith” (Ibid., p. 411).
The celebrated Jewish commentator, Dr. Kalisch, while endeavoring to palliate as far as possible the crimes of his people, admits that human sacrifices were not uncommon among them:
“The fact stands indisputable that human sacrifices offered to Jehovah were possible among the Hebrews long after the time of Moses, without meeting a check or censure from the teachers and leaders of the nation” (Leviticus, Part I., p. 385).
“One instance like that of Jephthah not only justifies, but necessitates, the influence of a general custom. Pious men slaughtered human victims, not to Moloch, nor to any other foreign deity, but to the national God, Jehovah” (Ibid., p. 390).
Jules Soury says: “Nothing is better established than the existence of human sacrifices among the Hebrews in honor of Iahveh, and that down to the time of Josiah, perhaps even until the return from the Babylonish captivity” (Religion of Israel, p. 46).
The Church, having received the benefits of a sacrificed God, deems human sacrifices no longer necessary. But what can be said of the Church as a whole cannot be said of all its individual members. Scarcely a year passes without the sacrifice of human beings by those who believe the Bible to be inspired, and who believe that what was right three thousand years ago is right to-day.
The sacrifice of little Ben Smith at Los Angeles, in 1882, is still remembered by some. His father was converted at a Methodist revival. He became very religious. The press dispatches stated that “for several months he devoted his time to the study of the Bible until he not only convinced himself that he ought to make a human sacrifice, but brought his wife and their only child, a boy of thirteen, to acquiesce, in his views.” I quote from the mother’s testimony:
“When he talked to me and persuaded me that a good wife ought to think as her husband did, I got so as to take whatever he said as the truth. He made us fast, and when Ben asked him if God had ordered us to starve he said yes. When he announced that the boy must be killed we both remonstrated, but finally thought it was all right. On the day appointed for the ceremony he called Ben out of the house and told him he had to die for our savior. The little fellow knelt down and I got on my knees by his side; John raised the knife, looked hard into the boy’s face, and then drove the knife into his breast.”
Here the mother was overcome with grief. Regaining her composure, she continued: “I am always thinking of Ben; I am always hearing him in the night asking to be brought in and laid on his bed, and begging for a little water before he died.”
Let me recall another half-forgotten scene. In a quiet village of New England live a pair whom nature meant for good, kind citizens. But they have become infatuated with the Bible. They believe it to be infallible. Day after day they pore over its pages. They dwell with especial interest upon the story of Abraham and Isaac, until at last they become impressed with the belief that they, too, are called upon to offer up their child. The fatal hour arrives. Nerved for the cruel deed, they approach the bedside of their child, a sweet-faced, curly-haired girl of four. How placidly she rests! Folded upon her breast are dimpled hands, white as the winter snow; curtained in slumber are eyes as mild as the summer sky. How beautiful! How pure! We would risk our lives to save that pretty thing from harm. How dear, then, must she be to that father and that mother! She is their idol. But that idol is about to be sacrificed upon the altar of superstition. There they stand—the mother with a lamp in her hand, the father with a knife. They gaze for a moment upon their sleeping victim. Then the father lifts his arm and plunges the knife into the heart of his child! A quiver—the blue eyes open, and cast a reproachful look upon the parent. The little lips exclaim, “O papa!” and the sacrifice is made!
You may say these people were insane. Aye, but what made them insane? And what, more than almost any other cause, is filling our asylums with these unfortunate people? The vain attempt to reconcile with reason the irreconcilable teachings of the Bible.