Having conquered the means which assure self-preservation, and having through much labor acquired science—the intellectual sun which turns man's night into day—the next virtue, the practice of which alone can enable man to enjoy the life he has learned to preserves, and the arts and pleasures he has created through knowledge, is to put a wholesome check upon his appetites by exercising moderation. Not until a man can moderate himself does he really become a moral, that is to say, a superior, being—a conqueror who can hold his possessions. In one of his romances, Voltaire makes the first man ask his Maker what he must do to get the most beauty and joy out of life. The answer to this question is also Voltaire's: "Practice Moderation."
How simple are all the commandments of Reason compared with the contradictions of Revelation! There is not one word of Reason ever spoken which has lost either its authority or beauty, while it is admitted by the believers themselves that more than half of the divine Revelation has become obsolete. To the question, "Why do not men obey the ordinances and commandments in the Old Testament?" the answer of the churches is, "The times have changed," or, "They were meant only for the Jews." Revelations grow old and expire. Reason, like the sun, rises daily to give unto each day its daily light. If Rationalists ever succeed in building a Hall of Reason, the two commandments which they will inscribe over its entrance will never need revision:
1. Speak according to knowledge.
2. Act according to conscience.
IX. The Parables of Jesus
JESUS is supposed to be the vein of gold in the bible. As already intimated, if the whole book is of God, it is difficult to see why certain portions of it should be more or less godly than others. Among the parables of Jesus, that of the "Prodigal Son" is said to be one of the most inspiring. It is the story of a young man who borrows in advance his portion of his father's wealth, while the latter is still living, and leaves home. After wasting his inheritance by riotous living, he finds himself face to face with starvation. The worst thing happens to him that might happen to a pious Jew—he is compelled to take care of a herd of swine, and to eat of their food. In this condition, he remembers that his father is still rich, with plenty of servants, and food for everybody. He decides to go back to him, just as he is, and to throw himself upon his mercy. It never occurs to him to try and make for himself a good reputation before he returns to his father, or to earn back the wealth he has squandered by a life of debauchery. Why should he? It is not his father's respect he wants, but his forgiveness. His foolish father does just as the prodigal expected; he gives him a royal welcome. A ring is slipped on his finger, the richest robe is thrown over his shoulders, and the fatted calf is killed for him.
Nobody will claim that the good-for-nothing son deserved all these honors. Indeed, it is quite plainly insinuated that he is honored for being a repentant sinner, unlike his elder brother, who had no need of repentance, because he remained at home and did his duty. To eat the "fatted calf," it is necessary to be a great sinner, suing for mercy. For the honest, who have no need to cry for forgiveness, there are no banquets. This is shown by the treatment accorded the other son, who had not asked for his portion of the inheritance, and had not wasted his years and money in self-indulgence, who had not deserted his aged father, but stood at his side in the home and the vineyard, doing also the work of the younger brother who had run away from home. No favors are conferred upon him, no feast is given in his honor, and strangest of all, he is not even invited to the party. It is by accident that he finds out about the costly banquet at which his prodigal brother was being entertained, while he himself was toiling in the fields. Who ate the fatted calf? Not the man who raised it, but the man who had lost all claim upon the fruits of his brother's or father's toil. Is this the way to encourage virtue? Rob the honest son who has not shirked labor—who has been faithful, devoted and frugal—to feast the prodigal, who has already consumed one fortune and is now begging for another? Begging, I say, for the idea of earning one is very disagreeable to prodigals. As long as there is a "father" who is willing to treat his prodigal son better than the worthy son, prodigals will not be wanting in the world.
And this is the gem of the collection over which we are supposed to go into ecstasies!