The bible is on the whole very unfair to woman. This is a sign of its inferior morality. It is the bully who takes advantage of the physically weak. When, in the Garden of Eden, God is about to punish the first couple for their disobedience, he is much less considerate of the woman than he is of the man. "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread," is the curse for Adam. That was not a curse at all. Labor is not only honorable, it is also pleasureable. Many work who do not have to—they work, not from pressure, but from pleasure. Many who retire from business do so with regret. It is indolence that is a curse. The divine curse against the serpent is even milder. He is told to walk upon his belly for the rest of his life—a change of locomotion was his punishment. But when Jehovah curses the woman, he shows,—I was going to say,—the effect of his Asiatic training. "Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee."[3]
[3] Genesis III:16.
"I will greatly multiply thy sorrow." And why? Is it because she is stronger and can therefore endure more suffering than the man? Why should she be struck a heavier and a more crushing blow? And observe that she is cursed in the act which constitutes the greatest and most heroic service a woman renders to the human race,—the giving birth to children. The pain of child-bearing is to be henceforth, says the deity, very much more painful. Well may we blush for Jehovah. If there is a divine moment in human life, it is when a woman becomes a mother. All the tenderness, the love, the gentleness, the devotion, the sweetness, and the compassion, of which we are capable, will not be enough to outweigh the suffering a woman endures to give life and light to a new being. And think of choosing this delicate and helpless moment to strike at her! And this is the being who has sent his son to save us! But who shall save Jehovah?
"And thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee." At the threshold of life she is sold into slavery. She is not given to Adam—to share with him the dignity of humanity, the duties and rights of life,—but to be his creature. Suppose Jehovah had said: "A woman is as much a human being as a man, and because of her physical weakness, I shall charge myself to be her special protector and friend until man shall have advanced sufficiently in culture and civilization to do full justice to her." Ah, if Jehovah had only said that! In the Episcopal and Catholic marriage services, to this day, the wife is asked to promise to obey her husband. And this is the religion that pretends to be just and impartial to women. From the silence of Jesus on this subject, in a country and at a time when woman's condition was deplorable, and where the curse with which she had been cursed had really taken effect,—as well as from the few words he said about marriage,—Jesus shows his utter incapacity to tear himself from his Asiatic environment, or to rise to the nobler ideals of an advancing civilization.
Again, in the light of his belief in a world soon to disappear, it becomes clear why Jesus ignored such subjects, for instance, as education, art and politics. There is not a word in all the sayings and sermons of Jesus about schools, or the acquisition of knowledge of nature and its laws. He does not devote a single thought to the education of children. Not once does he denounce ignorance, which is the mother of all abominations. In the age in which he lived, ignorance was the most abundant as well as the worst crop his own country raised. And yet, Jesus had absolutely nothing to say against it. It would take time to conquer knowledge, and the time was too short. Moreover, in the world to come, such knowledge would be superfluous. What wisdom the believers needed would be given to them miraculously, even as God rained down manna in the desert to the children of Israel. This idea that everything, even our daily bread, is given to us, not acquired by us, explains also why Jesus ignored the subject of labor—the great transformer that transforms the world's waste places into gardens and its swamps into flourishing cities. "Consider the lilies of the fields," argues Jesus, with a suggestion of poetry in his usually severe and solemn speech,—"they toil not, neither do they spin,"—from which it is to be inferred that, if the lilies can be so fair and flourishing without toil or labor, so can man, if he will only put his trust in God.
The kingdom of heaven which is to take the place of this world when it has been burned down to ashes, is not an evolution, or a growth out of present conditions, but it is a totally different order, and is to be introduced suddenly and by miracle. This idea makes human labor unnecessary. Hence, the advice of Paul to the slave, not to seek his freedom, and that of Jesus, to let the tares grow up with the wheat. It is not by any effort on our part; it is not by human science or labor, but by magic, that is to say, by some unknown, mysterious and sudden manner—like the thief at night, that the kingdom of God is to come.
Little things as well as great issues, Jesus would have us leave to providence. Therefore his warning: Take no thought for the morrow. In other words labor is necessary for those people only who have no Father in heaven who takes notice of even the falling sparrow. But the believer has only to cast his net into the sea and fishes with pearls in their mouths will help him pay for his wants. Faith will not only move mountains, but it can make a single loaf of bread to satisfy the hunger of thousands. In fact, a miracle-worker like Jesus could not consistently recommend labor, which means application of means to ends. Jesus was a magician. Morality is a Science.
But let us now consider Jesus' answers to special problems presented to him by many of his hearers for solution. You know the story of the rich young man who came to Jesus to ask him the way to eternal life. "Keep the ten commandments," Jesus told him. But when the youth answered that he was already doing that, Jesus said, "If thou wilt be perfect, sell all that thou hast and give it to the poor and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." I am not surprised that the young man went away disappointed. What is there in poverty to entitle a man to eternal life? Is it not a perverse doctrine that associates beggary with moral perfection? Why should the mendicant be the pet of heaven. If you give all that you have to the poor, you will have to depend upon charity for your living,—or starve. And where will the charity come from, if all men were to follow the advice of Jesus and cultivate poverty? But wealth means life, it means enjoyment of the world and exuberance of spirits, which things Jesus dreads. Poverty means lassitude, asceticism, low vitality, prostration and weariness of life,—which things Jesus considered essential to the destruction of the world, which he hoped for. It is only for this world, however, that Jesus believes in poverty. In the next, his followers will receive a hundred-fold for every sacrifice made. They will be given thrones, crowns, jeweled streets to walk in—and mansions of pure gold in which they will drink of the fruit of the vine. Heaven, in the opinion of Jesus, is like a bank which pays ten thousand per cent for every privation suffered in this world. The most pronounced commercialism even is not so extravagant as that. The heaven of Jesus is more materialistic than this world.
It is often claimed that this doctrine of Jesus was a great comfort to the unfortunate, who were given something to look forward to. If they were poor, here, they could hope to be rich there. It is true to a great extent that Christianity won its way into the hearts of the masses by flattering them. "Unto the poor the Gospel is preached," said Jesus. And what was its message to them?—You have lost this world, but the next will be yours. In my opinion this promise, while it sounds big, is a very empty one. It taught the poor to submit to oppression, instead of inspiring them to rebellion against injustice. Jesus did not tell the truth when he said that poverty, hunger, ignorance, misery, were blessed.
You are also familiar with the story of the men who came to Jesus to ask him whether they should pay tribute to Caesar? Instead of giving to this question a direct answer, Jesus resorts to quibbling—He asks for a coin, and when one is presented, "Whose is the superscription," he asks. "Caesar's," is the answer. "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," commands Jesus. But one moment: Is a coin Caesar's because his superscription is upon it? Is it not rather the property of the man who has earned it by his labor? Shall Caesar claim everything that he can put his stamp upon? Was not Jesus recommending the blind worship of force when he told them to respect Caesar's name? Suppose, instead of evading the question, or attempting a smart answer to it, Jesus had calmly and clearly explained to them that no government, be it human or divine, is just, which is not based upon the consent of the governed. Ah, if Jesus had only said that.