The Proportions of Truth

by Edward Hoare

And now, having said enough on the general principle, let us begin by applying it to the variations which exist amongst us with reference to the great principles which lie within the circle of Evangelical truth, and in which we are in the main agreed. I hear a good deal of the disunion of the Evangelical body, but I do not believe it. I am fully alive to our defects in organization, and I believe you will always find such defects amongst persons trained as we are to think for ourselves, and to act on our own responsibility; but I believe there is a vast amount of real loving Christian brotherhood amongst us, and I doubt whether in the whole world you would find five hundred thinking men more completely of one heart and one mind than that loving band of brethren who meet year after year in this hall, under the presidency of our venerable friend. Still we have our variations, and I venture to suggest that these variations, such as they are, arise much more from our losing sight of the proportions of truth, than from error as to truth itself. Some, e.g., of us who are deeply interested in prophetic inquiry, may carry the subject too far, and become too much absorbed by an intense interest of the study; while other dear brethren have been so much impressed by our mistakes, that they think it wiser to neglect the subject altogether; and thus it comes to pass that the proportion of truth is missed by us both. Is it not possible that some of us are so impressed with the grandeur of the universal offer of a free salvation in Christ Jesus, that we scarcely give sufficient prominence to the doctrine of election; while others have our hearts so filled with the deep sense of electing love, that we feel some difficulty in making a universal offer? And in such a case does not the difficulty arise much more from our losing sight of the relative position of two truths, than of either party being in error as to either one? Each can prove his point, but the question is, Do they preserve the proportion of truth?

So again, is there not a danger of those amongst us whose own mind is occupied by the Jews, seeing everything in Jewish light, and forgetting the election from the Gentiles; while those who are absorbed in Gentile work are in equal danger of withholding his proper portion from the Jew?

Once more, is it not a question whether, as a body, we are giving quite sufficient prominence to the sacrament of Baptism? If I were to draw any comparison between the two sacraments, I think I must come to the conclusion that the sacrament of Baptism occupies in Apostolic teaching a more prominent place than the Lord’s Supper; but I am not at all sure that the proportion is not reversed in my own ministry, and that much more importance is not attached to the Holy Communion than to our Baptism into the body of Christ. The same may be said of the Second Advent, and many other subjects. We may be perfectly sound upon each point, and able in the most satisfactory manner to prove each point from Scripture, but still while maintaining truth we may be exhibiting a partial view of truth: we may be presenting only certain colours of the spectrum, and failing to produce the perfect light; we may be playing only the bass notes, and so losing the harmony of our music.

If this be the case, we shall not be drawn together by an eager maintenance of our own particular subject, but by fixing our thoughts on the whole. I am not arguing against men taking up particular subjects and becoming absorbed in them. I believe that if this were not done nothing great would be accomplished, for no one mind is big enough for the whole. But I am anxious that we should remember that other person’s subjects have a place in God’s system as well as our own; that “the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you;” but that we all remember that “God hath tempered the body together;” and that our earnest desire must be, as one united band of brethren, to exhibit before the world in all its proportions the whole counsel and the perfect mind of God.

But, leaving these subjects, which may be defined as variations within the Evangelical body, let us pass on to apply the principle to some of those great questions in which the whole body are united in the earnest struggle for the truth of God; and let us begin with that which is undoubtedly one of the great questions of the day,—the relative value of ritual, and reality in religion. Now let us admit at the outset that it is utterly impossible to have reality without ritual. It is impossible for twelve men to meet together and worship God decently and in order without a ritual of some kind or other. Nay, I would go further, and say it is impossible for any one, even alone, to pour out his heart before God without a certain amount of ritual or form. There must be a certain ritual, or external action, in harmony with the spiritual or internal movements of the soul. But though you cannot have reality without ritual, you may have ritual without reality. You may have an elaborate form, notwithstanding the total absence of the weightier matters of the law. It becomes therefore a matter of deep interest for us to consider what is the relative position of ritual in the Christian system, and what place it occupies in sacred Scripture.

Now it was once said to me by an advanced Ritualist, “If there be an elaborate and gorgeous ritual in heaven, and if there was an elaborate and gorgeous ritual under the law, may we not conclude that we ought to have the same in this intermediate dispensation?”

But where do we find any account of a gorgeous and elaborate ritual in heaven? We do, I acknowledge, read of one gorgeous dress “of purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls;” but that was on the harlot. In all besides there is perfect simplicity. The bride has no dress but “fine linen, clean and white;” and when the elders were honoured with crowns, they cast them at the feet of the Lamb, that all eyes might be fixed on Him, and all heaven give Him His honour. Nor was there any gorgeous ritual under the law. It is true that the high priest wore a dress adorned with precious stones and the most costly material that could be procured, but that was for the simple reason that what he wore was typical of the glorious attributes of our blessed Redeemer. But the dress of the ordinary priests was perfectly simple. And as for ritual, it was minute because it was prophetic: it was a pictorial prophecy, and therefore of necessity accurate. But in other respects we find no directions whatever. The argument therefore completely falls to the ground; and we have to consider simply the position occupied by ritual in the New Testament. And what do we find there? Absolutely nothing: not even in the administration of the sacraments do we find a single direction beyond the name and the water in Baptism, and the use of bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper. Beyond these points not a hint is given. Whether it should be received standing, sitting, or kneeling; what words should be used, and who should use them; whether there should be a liturgy or extempore prayer, and indeed whether there should be any prayer at all,—all these things are left without any notice in the Word of God.

But I must be careful what I say, for I once had a pamphlet sent me purporting to give Scriptural authority for some of these modern innovations. It maintained that the cloak, the φαιλόνη, which St. Paul left at Troas, was his chasuble, without which he could not celebrate mass at Rome; and that the many lights which sent Eutychus to sleep were the many candles with which the altar at Troas was adorned. If men believe that, it is vain to argue with them. But this much we may safely conclude,—that if these be the only arguments that can be produced, the men who urged them must have been very hard up for an authority. Our conclusion therefore remains untouched, that the whole of the New Testament is occupied by the great realities of the Gospel of Christ; and that, so far as Scripture is concerned, there is not even a hint as to ritual. And what is the grand conclusion? Is it not surely this,—that if we would keep to the proportions of truth we must not allow the thoughts to be led off by ritual, but must keep well in view the great realities of life and death, of forgiveness, of purification, new life, and everlasting salvation: the great things of the Gospel, the weighty matters revealed in the Word of God. Even when contending against innovation we must not allow the interest of the contest to draw our thoughts from great realities. And in our own peaceful and parochial work we must not disturb our people by needless changes, even though some of them may seem to ourselves to be improvements; and we must take good heed that, while all things are ordered as becometh the house of God, the great law of proportion is observed, and the minds of our young people not drawn off by the form and furniture of worship. I was deeply impressed not long ago by the importance of this principle in its bearing upon missions. In missions you have a great reality that fills the Scriptures. History, prophecy, biography, command, and promise, all unite in urging the sacred work of missions. I was anxious to ascertain to what extent the missionary spirit flourished in conjunction with costly ritual; and I thought the best test that I could apply was to ascertain how much was contributed to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel by some of those churches that are most renowned for ritual. I selected seven, with the names of which I happened to be familiar. [16] I then turned to the last report of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, in order to ascertain how much they gave for missions, and I found that the aggregate contributions by all seven together to the general fund amounted to the amazing sum of £7 13s. 2d. I ought to say that St. Albans added £5 13s. 10d. for a special fund for Honolulu. So that, taking into account the gifts to particular dioceses, as well as those to the general fund, the total contributed by the seven churches to foreign missions, through the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, amounted to £13 7s. And yet the incumbent of one or them (St. Andrew’s, Wells Street) stated in evidence before the Ritual Commission, that the cost of his choir alone was “about £1000 a year.” Is it not high time that men lay to heart the proportion to be observed between ritual and the reality of religion?

But now let us go a step further, and apply this law of proportion to what is commonly called the sacramental system. I heard this well defined not long since, in a very able sermon by an advanced Ritualist. He supposed a person in America anxious to communicate with his friend in England, and asked the question whether he would do so by direct communication through the air, or through the medium of the telegraphic wires. “Just so,” said he, “the question is whether God has been pleased to communicate direct with the soul, or has chosen to do so through the medium of His priests and sacraments.” My own belief is that that was a very fair statement of the point at issue, and I am anxious to bring it to the test of the law of proportion, and to ascertain as far as we can what proportionate place this intermediate system occupies in the Word of God. But here I meet with a great difficulty, for when I turn to my Bible the system, as a system, is not to be found. I know not therefore how to bring it to the balance; all I can attempt therefore is to consider it in detail, and to examine separately the different parts of the telegraphic system. Let us begin with confession and absolution.

Respecting confession to a priest, not one word is to be found in any portion of the New Testament; and with reference to absolution by a priest, there is not a passage which can be quoted with any semblance, of authority, except that one most difficult verse in the Gospel of St. John. I am not about to discuss that verse, or to endeavour to decide whether the words were spoken to the whole Church or to the Apostles, or whether, if to the Apostles, they describe a gift as one to be permanently transmitted, or to terminate with, the Apostleship. My object is to point out that if they referred to a gift to be transmitted through the Apostles to priests, if the transmission were to stop at priests and not descend to deacons, and if the forgiveness, and therefore the salvation of the whole Church were dependent on the exercise by a priest of the transmitted power,—it is to my mind perfectly inconceivable that the revelation of God should be completed and closed, without containing one single sentence either as to the law of transmission, or the exercise of so tremendous and mysterious a power. In the Acts we have the record of Apostolic missions. In the Epistles we have twenty-one addresses to Christian Churches, three of which were exclusively devoted to the subject of the ministry; while passages bearing on the relationship between ministers and people are perpetually recurring. From one end of the Book to the other, the great subject of forgiveness is mentioned again and again; and yet, with reference to what was termed at Nottingham, “sacramental confession and absolution,” though the application of life is supposed to depend on it, not a single hint is given.