Luke xvi. 14.
And the Pharisees also, who were covetous, heard all those things, and they derided him.
But what then were those things which our Lord had said in the hearing of the Pharisees, and for which they derided him?
Had he been inveighing against the vice of covetousness in any unreasonable manner? Had he carried the opposite virtue to an extreme, as some moralists have done? Had he told the Pharisees that the possession, and much more the enjoyment of riches, was, universally, and under all circumstances, unlawful? Had he pressed it as a matter of conscience upon them, to divest themselves of their wealth, and to embrace an absolute and voluntary poverty? Had he even gone so far as to advise these Pharisees, as he once did a rich man, to sell what they had and give it to the poor, and then take up the cross and follow him[155]?
Alas, no. He had been saying none of these things. He did not think well enough of the Pharisees to give this last counsel of exalted charity to them; a counsel, which he had addressed to one whom he loved, to one who was a virtuous man as well as rich, and who wanted only this one thing, to make him perfect.
And as for those other precepts, which would have implied, that riches were unlawful in themselves, and the possession of them a crime, he was too sober a moralist to address a lecture of this sort to any of his hearers.
The truth is, he had only been advising rich men to employ their wealth in such a way as should turn to the best account, to make themselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; that is, such friends, as should be able to repay them with interest, and, when these houses of clay are overturned, should receive them into everlasting habitations: and, to give this advice the greater weight with them, he had concluded his discourse with saying, that such conduct was even necessary, if they aspired to this reward, for that they could not serve God and mammon; that is, they could not serve God acceptably, unless they withdrew their service from mammon in all those cases, in which the commands of two such different masters interfered with each other.
Such, and so reasonable was the doctrine which Jesus had been delivering to the Pharisees. And how then could it provoke their derision?
The text answers this question—THEY WERE COVETOUS. Their life was a contradiction to this doctrine, and therefore they found it unreasonable, and even ridiculous.
Nor let it be thought, that this illusion is peculiar to avarice. It is familiar to vice of every kind, to scorn reproof; to make light of the doctrine, which condemns it; and, when it cannot confute, to deride the teacher.
So that the text affords this general observation, “That, when the heart is corrupted by any vice, it naturally breeds a disposition to unreasonable mirth and ridicule.”
And, because this levity of mind, in its turn, corrupts the heart still further, it may be of use to open to you, more particularly, the sources of irreligious scorn; to let you see from how base an origin it springs; how it rises, indeed, on the subversion of every principle, by which a virtuous man is governed, and by which there is hope that a vicious man may be reclaimed.
Now ye will easily apprehend how the sinner comes to cultivate in himself this miserable talent, if ye reflect; how much he is concerned to avoid the EVIDENCE of moral truth; how insensible he chuses to be to the DIFFERENCES of moral sentiment; how studiously he would keep out of sight the CONSEQUENCES of moral action: And if ye consider, withal, how well adapted the way of ridicule is, to answer all these purposes.
I. First, then, the sinner is much disposed to withhold his attention from the evidence of moral truth; and the way of ridicule favours this bad disposition.
When a moral lesson is addressed to us, it is but a common piece of respect we owe the teacher of it, and indeed ourselves, to see what the ideas are of which the doctrine is made up; to consider whether there be a proper coherence between those ideas; whether what is affirmed in the proposition be consonant to truth and reason, or not. If upon this enquiry we find that the affirmation is well founded, either from our immediate perception of the dependency between the ideas themselves, or from the evidence of some remoter principle, with which it is duly connected, we admit it thenceforth as a truth, and are obliged, if we would act in a reasonable manner, to pay it that regard which may be due to its importance. This is the duty of a rational hearer in the school of instruction: and this, the process of the mind, in discharging that duty. But this work of the understanding, it is plain, requires attention and seriousness; attention, to apprehend the meaning of the proposition delivered to us, and seriousness, to judge of its truth and moment.
Indeed, if the result of our enquiry be, that the proposition is unmeaning, or false, or frivolous, we of course reject it, and, perhaps, with some contempt: but then this contempt is subsequent to the inquiry, and would itself be ridiculous, if it went before it.
It is apparent, then, what reason demands in the case. But the precipitancy of the mind is such, that it often concludes before it understands, and, what is worse, contemns what it has not examined. This last folly is more especially chargeable on those who are under the influence of some inveterate prejudice, or prevailing passion. For, when the moral instruction pressed upon us, directly opposes a principle we will not part with, or contradicts an inclination we resolve to cherish, the very repugnancy of the doctrine to our notions or humours creates disgust: and then, to spare ourselves the trouble of inquiry, or to countenance the hasty persuasion that we have no need to inquire at all, we very naturally express that disgust in contempt and ridicule.
I explain myself by the instance in the text, Jesus had said, Ye cannot serve God and mammon. The Pharisees, who heard him say this, had taken their resolution, to serve mammon; and they had, it seems, a principle of their own, on which they presumed to satisfy themselves, that they, likewise, served God. Now, this aphorism of our Lord coming against these prejudices, they had not the patience to consider what truth there was in the assertion; what it was to serve God, and what it was to serve mammon; and what inconsistency there was between these two services. This way of inquiry, which reason prescribes, was too slow for these impatient spirits; and, besides, was contrary to their fixed purpose of adhering, to their old principles and practices. They therefore take a shorter method of setting aside the obnoxious proposition. They conclude hastily, that their service of mammon was, some how or other, made consistent with their service of God, by virtue of their long prayers. And, for the rest, they condescend not to reason upon the point at all: to get quit of this trouble, or rather, to conceal from themselves, if possible, the deformity of their practice, they slur an important lesson over with an air of negligent raillery, and think it sufficient to deride the teacher of it.
Ye see then how naturally it comes to pass that the way of ridicule is taken up by the sinner, to avoid the trouble and confusion which must needs arise from a serious attention to the evidence of moral truth.
II. It serves equally in the next place, to sooth and flatter his corruption, by keeping him insensible, as he would chuse to be, to the differences of moral sentiment.
The divine wisdom has so wonderfully contrived human nature, that there needs little more in moral matters, than plainly and clearly to represent any instruction to the mind, in order to procure its assent to it. Whatever the instruction be, whether it affirm this conduct to be virtuous, or that vicious, if the mind be in its natural state, it more than sees, it feels, the truth or falshood of it. The appeal lies directly to the heart, and to certain corresponding sentiments of right and wrong, instantly and unavoidably excited by the moral proposition[156].
It is true, the vivacity of these sentiments may be much weakened by habits of vice; but they must grow into a great inveteracy indeed, before they can altogether extinguish the natural perception. The only way to prevent this sensibility from taking place in a mind, not perfectly abandoned, is to keep the moral truth itself out of sight; or, which comes to the same thing, to misrepresent it. For, being then not taken for what it is, but for something else, it is the same thing as if the truth itself had not been proposed to us. But now this power of misrepresentation is that faculty in which ridicule excells. Nothing is easier for it than to distort a reasonable proposition, or to throw some false light of the fancy upon it. The soberest truth is then travestied into an apparent falshood; and, instead of exciting the moral sentiment which properly belongs to it, only serves, under this disguise, to provoke the scorner’s mirth on a phantom of his own raising.
The instance in the text will again illustrate this observation.
Had the Pharisees seen, that, to serve God implies an universal obedience to all his laws, and that, to serve mammon implies an equal submission to all the maxims of the world, and that these laws and these maxims are, in numberless cases, directly contrary to each other, they would then have seen our Lord’s observation in its true light; and they could not have helped feeling the propriety of the conduct recommended to them. But the sentiments arising out of this truth, would have given no small disturbance to men, who were determined to act in defiance of them. To avoid this inconvenience, they had only to put a false gloss on the words of Jesus; to suppose, for instance, that by serving God was meant, to make long prayers, and by serving mammon, to make a reasonable provision for their families; and, then, where was the inconsistency of two such services? In this way of understanding the text, nothing is easier than to serve God and mammon. And thus, by substituting a proposition of their own, in the room of that which he had delivered, they escape from his reproof, and even find means to divert themselves with it.
III. But, lastly, a vicious man is not more concerned to obscure the evidence of moral truth, and to suppress in himself the differences of moral sentiment, than he is to keep out of sight the consequences of moral action: and what so likely as ridicule to befriend him also in this project.
When the sinner looks forward into the effects of a vicious life, he sees so much misery springing up before him, even in this world, and so dreadful a recompence reserved for him in another, that the prospect must needs be painful to him. He has his choice, indeed, whether to stop, or proceed, in his evil course; but, if he resolve to proceed, one cannot think it strange that he should strive to forget, both what he is about, and whither he is going. And, if other expedients fail him, he very naturally takes refuge in a forced intemperate pleasantry. For the very effort to be witty occupies his attention, and gratifies his vanity. A little crackling mirth, besides, diverts and entertains him; and, though his case will not bear reasoning upon, yet a lively jest shall pass upon others, and sometimes upon himself, for the soundest reason.
This is the true account of that disposition to ridicule, which the world so commonly observes in bad men, and sometimes mistakes for an argument of their tranquillity, when it is, in truth, an evident symptom of their distress. For they would forget themselves, in this noisy mirth; just as children laugh out, to keep up their spirits in the dark.
Let me alledge the case in the text once more, to exemplify this remark.
When our Lord reproved the Pharisees for their covetousness, and admonished them how impossible it was to serve God and mammon, the weight of this remonstrance should, in all reason, have engaged their serious attention: and then they would have seen how criminal their conduct was, in devouring widows houses, while yet they pretended a zeal for the house of God; and being led by the principles of their sect to admit a future existence, it was natural for them, under this conviction, to expect the just vengeance of their crimes.
But vice had made them ingenious, and taught them how to elude this dreadful conclusion. They represented to themselves their reprover in a ridiculous light; probably as one of those moralists, who know nothing of the world, and outrage truth and reason in their censures of it: or, they affected to see him in this light, in order to break the force of his remonstrance, and insinuate to the by-standers, that it merited no other confutation than that of neglect. They did, then, as vicious men are wont to do; they resolved not to consider the consequences of their own conduct; and supported themselves in this resolution by deriding the person, who, in charity, would have led them to their duty.
Thus it appears how naturally the way of ridicule is employed by those who determine not to comply with the rules of reason and religion. They are solicitous to keep the evidence of moral truth from pressing too closely upon them: they would confound and obliterate, if they could, the differences of moral sentiment: they would overlook, if possible, the consequences of moral action: and nothing promises so fair to set them at ease, in these three respects, as to cultivate that turn of mind, which obscures truth, hardens the heart, and stupifies the understanding. For such is the proper effect of dissolute mirth; the mortal foe to reason, virtue, and to common prudence.
I have shewn you this very clearly in the case of one vice, the vice of avarice, as exemplified by the Pharisees in the text. But, as I said, every other vice is equally disingenuous, and for the same reason. Tell the ambitious man, in the language of Solomon, that by humility and the fear of the Lord, cometh honour[157]; and he will loudly deride his instructor: or, tell the voluptuous man, in the language of St. Paul, that he, who liveth in pleasure, is dead while he liveth[158]; and you may certainly expect the same treatment.
It is not, that vague and general invectives against vice will always be thus received: but let the reproof, as that in the text, be pressing and poignant, let it come home to men’s bosoms, and penetrate, by its force and truth, the inmost foldings and recesses of conscience, and see if the man, who is touched by your reproof, and yet will not be reclaimed by it; see, I say, if he be not carried, by a sort of instinct, to repel your charitable pains with scorn and mockery. Had Jesus instructed the Pharisees to pray and fast often; or had he exhorted them, in general terms, to keep the law and to serve God; they had probably given him the hearing with much apparent composure: but when he spoke against serving mammon, whom they idolized: and still more, when he told these hypocritical worldlings, that their service of mammon did not, and could not consist with God’s service, to which they so much pretended; then it was that they betook themselves to their arms: they heared these things, and because they were covetous, they derided their teacher.
If this be a just picture of human nature, it may let us see how poor a talent that of ridicule is, both in its origin, and application. For, when employed in moral and religious matters, we may certainly pronounce of it, That it springs from vice, and means nothing else but the support of it. Should not the scorner himself, then, reflect of what every other man sees, “That his mirth implies guilt, and that he only laughs, because he dares not be serious?”
But Solomon[159] has long since read the destiny of him, who would reprove men of this character. It will be to better purpose, therefore, to warn the young and unexperienced against the contagion of vicious scorn; by which many have been corrupted, on whom vice itself, in its own proper form, would have made no impression. For the modesty of virtue too easily concludes, that what is much ridiculed must, itself, be ridiculous: and, when this conclusion is taken up, reflexion many times comes too late to correct the mischiefs of it. Let those, then, who have not yet seated themselves in the chair of the scorner, consider, that ridicule is but the last effort of baffled vice to keep itself in countenance; that it betrays a corrupt turn of mind, and only serves to promote that corruption. Let them understand, that this faculty is no argument of superior sense, rarely of superior wit; and that it proves nothing but the profligacy, or the folly of him, who affects to be distinguished by it. Let them, in a word, reflect, that virtue and reason love to be, and can afford to be, serious: but that vice and folly are undone, if they let go their favourite habit of scorn and derision.