An analysis of religious belief

by viscount John Russell Amberley

Curiously enough, another Chinese sage has anticipated another of the best points in the doctrine of Jesus. Jesus enjoined his hearers not to practice charity in a public and ostentatious manner, like the hypocrites, "but when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth" (Mt. vi, 3). In this admirable maxim he would have had the support of all true Confucians, for one of their canonical writers had also told them that "it is the way of the superior man to prefer the concealment of his virtue, while it daily becomes more illustrious, and it is the way of the mean man to seek notoriety, while he daily goes more and more to ruin" (C. C., i. 295.—Chung Yung, ch. xxxiii. 1).

On another question, that of the admonition of an erring friend, Jesus gave an opinion which is in perfect accord with an opinion given by Confucius. If a man's brother trespass against him, he is first, according to Jesus, to take him to task in private; should that fail, to call in two or three witnesses to hear the charge; and should the offender still be obdurate, to inform the Church.[33] If his impenitence continue even after this, he is to become to him "as a heathen and a publican" (Mt. xviii. 15-17). Turning to the conversations of Confucius, we find the following:—"Tsze-kung asked about friendship. The Master said, 'Faithfully admonish your friend, and kindly try to lead him. If you find him impracticable, stop. Do not disgrace yourself'" (Lun Yu, b. xii. ch. 33.—C. C., i. 125). The steps inculcated by the two teachers are, making allowance for difference of country, almost identical.

The thoughts as well as the language of Jesus are often reproduced with singular fidelity in the sacred works of Buddhists. As the Buddha is, on the whole, the prophet whose character approaches most closely to that of Jesus, so we are almost certain to find in the literature of Buddhism nearly all the most exalted features of his ethical teaching. Thus Jesus praises the poor widow who contributes her mite to the temple treasury, because she has given all that she had. In one of the numerous legends supposed to have been related by Sakyamuni an exactly similar incident occurs. A former Buddha was traveling through various countries, accompanied by his attendant monks. The rich householders presented them with all kinds of food as offerings. A poor man, who had no property whatever, and lived by collecting wood in the mountains and selling it, had gained two coins by the pursuit of his industry. Perceiving the Buddha coming from a visit to the royal palace, he devoutly gave him these two coins; his sole possession in the world. The Buddha received them, and mercifully remembered the donor, who (as Sakyamuni now explained) was richly rewarded during ninety-one subsequent ages (W. u. Th., p. 53). The widow's mite is no less closely reflected in the following anecdote from the same collection. In the time of a former Buddha, a certain monk belonging to his train had gone out to collect the offerings of the pious. He arrived at the hut of a miserable couple, who had nothing between them but an old piece of cotton-wool. When the husband went out to beg, the wife sat at home naked in the hay; and when the wife went out, the husband remained in the same condition. To these people then the monk approached, crying out as usual, "Go and prostrate yourself before Buddha! present him with gifts!" It happened that the wife was wearing the cotton-wool on this occasion. She therefore requested the holy man to wait a little, promising to return. Hereupon she entered the house and requested the permission of her husband to offer the cotton-wool to Buddha. He, however, pointed out that as they had not the smallest property beyond this, extreme inconvenience would result from the loss of it, for both of them must then remain at home. To this she replied that they must needs die in any case, and that their hopes for the future would be much improved if they died after presentation of an offering. She then returned to the monk, and requested him to turn away his eyes a moment. But he told her to give her alms openly in her hands, and that he would then recite a benediction over them. The full delicacy of her situation had now to be explained. "Except this cotton-wool stuff on my body I have nothing, and no other clothing; since, then, it would be improper for thee to behold the foul-smelling impurity of the female body, I will reach thee out the stuff from within." So saying she retired into the house and handed out her garment. When the monk delivered it to Buddha, it caused great offense to the king's courtiers, who surrounded him, on account of its being old and dirty. But Buddha, who knew their thoughts, said, "I find, that of all the gifts of this assembly, no single one surpasses this in cleanliness and purity" (W. u. Th., p. 150).

Not only in the case of the widow at the treasury did Jesus dwell upon the value of even trifling gifts made for the sake of religion. Another time he declared to those about him that whoever gave them a cup of cold water in his name, because they belonged to Christ, would not lose his reward. In Buddhist story the very same ideas are to be found; almost the same words. An eminent member of the Buddha's circle says that "whoever with a purely-believing heart offers nothing but a handful of water, or presents so much to the spiritual assembly or to his parents, or gives drink therewith to the poor and needy, or to a beast of the field;—this meritorious action will not be exhausted in many ages" (W. u. Th., p. 37).

The simile of fishing for men, employed by Jesus in his summons to Simon and Andrew, is likewise to be discovered in the works of the great Asiatic religion. The images of the Bodhisattvas, or Buddhas yet to come, frequently hold in their hands a snare, which is thus explained in the Nippon Pantheon:—"He disseminates upon the ocean of birth and decay the Lotus-flower of the excellent law as bait; with the loop of devotion, never cast out in vain, he brings living beings up like fishes, and carries them to the other side of the river, where there is true understanding" (B. T., p. 213). And in the book from which some illustrations have already been taken, it is said of a believer that "he had been seized by the hook of the doctrine, just as a fish, who has taken the line, is securely pulled out" (W. u. Th., p. 114).

Hitherto we have noticed a few of the minor points in the doctrine of Jesus, and while there has been little in these to object to, there has also been little to excite excessive admiration. The extreme exaltation of humility, and the evident anxiety to see, not equality of conditions, but a reversal of the actual inequalities, are not among the best features of his ideal system. We cannot but suspect something of a personal bias. Thus, in the parable of the Pharisee and the publican, aimed at a hostile and detested order, the publican is justified by nothing but his humility; while in that of Lazarus and Dives, Lazarus is eternally rewarded for nothing but his poverty. It is no doubt well to be humble, and we should be glad to see poverty removed; but it is not to be assumed that the Pharisee, conscious of leading an honorable life, is therefore a bad man; nor that the rich proprietor should be tormented in hell merely because he does not give alms to all the beggars who throng about his gates. When Jesus desires that virtuous actions should be done as quietly and even as secretly as possible, he inculcates an important principle of morals, and it is devoutly to be wished that we had among us more of this unconspicuous kindness, and less ostentatious charity. Where, however, he preaches on the virtue of bestowing alms on his disciples, he does but echo a sentiment which is natural to religious teachers in all ages, and to which, as we have seen, the emissaries of another and earlier faith, were equally alive. Passing from these comparatively trifling questions, let us consider some of his decisions on the greater moral problems with which he felt called upon to deal.

On a vast social subject—that of divorce—he pronounced an opinion which gives us a little insight into his mode of regarding that most important of all topics, the relations of the sexes. The Pharisees, it appears, came to him and asked him whether it was permissible for a man to put away his wife, Moses having allowed it. Jesus explained that this precept had been given for the hardness of their hearts. His own view was, that man and wife are one flesh, and that if either should leave the other, except on account of unfaithfulness, and marry again, that one would be guilty of adultery. This severe doctrine he supported by one of his short sayings: "What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder" (Mk. x. 1-12; Mt. xix. 1-12, and v. 31, 32). But surely this judgment assumes the very point at issue. The joining together in wedlock is ascribed to God; the putting asunder to man. But granting the sacredness of the marriage tie, it would still be no less possible to invoke the divine sanction for its dissolution than for its original formation. And in many instances the maxim might be exactly reversed. So unfortunate is the result of many marriages, that it would be easy for a religious reformer to say of them, with perfect sincerity, "What man hath joined together, let God put asunder." There is, in fact, almost as much to be said on moral grounds for the divorce of unhappy couples as for the marriage of happy ones. Nor does Jesus by any means face the real difficulties of the question by allowing divorce where either of the parties has been guilty of adultery. This, no doubt, is the extreme case, and if divorce is not to be given here, it can be given nowhere. But why is adultery to be the sole ground of separation? Why is an institution which may bring so much happiness to mankind to be converted into one of the most fertile sources of human misery? Why, when both parties to the contract desire separation, is an external authority, whether that of opinion or of law, to enforce union? None of these questions appear to have presented themselves to the mind of Jesus. Supposing even that his decision were right, he assigns no reasons for it, but simply lays down the law in a trenchant manner, without giving us the least clue to the process by which he arrived at so strange a conclusion. Nor is it in the least likely that the many perplexities encompassing this, and all other questions affecting the morals of sex, had ever troubled him. His mind was not sufficiently subtle to enter into them; and thus it is that, throughout the whole course of his career, he lays down no single doctrine (if we except this one on divorce) which can be of the smallest service to his disciples in the many practical troubles that must beset their lives from the existence of a natural passion of which he takes no account.

Another weak point in the system of Jesus is his aversion to wealth and wealthy men, apart from the consideration of the good or bad use they may make of their property. Thus, the only advice he gives to the rich man who had kept all the commandments was to sell everything he had and give the proceeds to the poor; a measure of very questionable advantage to those for whose benefit it is intended. When the man naturally declined to take this course—practically a mere throwing off of the responsibilities of life—Jesus remarked that it was hard for those who had riches to enter the kingdom of God. Seeing the amazement of his disciples, he emphasized his doctrine by adding that it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter that kingdom. Hereupon his disciples, "excessively astonished," asked who then could be saved, and Jesus left a loophole for the salvation of the rich by the declaration that, impossible as it might be for men to pass a camel through a needle's eye, all things are possible with God (Mk. x. 17-27). A like animus against the wealthier classes is evinced in the story of the king who invited a number of guests to a wedding festivity. Those who had received invitations made light of them, one going to his farm, another to his merchandise, and so forth; or, according to another version, alleging their worldly affairs as excuses. Seeing that they would not come, the king bade his servants go out into the highways, and bring in whomsoever they might find; or, as Luke puts it, the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind (Mt. xxii. 1-10; Lu. xiv. 16-24).

More indiscriminately still is this aversion to the rich expressed in the parable of Lazarus and Dives. Here we are not told that the great proprietor had been a bad man, or had acted with any unusual selfishness. The utmost we may infer from the language used about him is that he had not been sufficiently sensitive to the difference between his own condition and that of the beggar. But no positive unkindness is even hinted at. Nor had the beggar done anything to merit reward. He had only led one of those idle and worthless lives of dependence on others which are too common among Southern nations. Yet in the future life the beggar appears to be rewarded merely because in this life he had been badly off; and the rich man is punished merely because he had been well off (Lu. xvi. 19-25). A stronger instance of apparently irrational prejudice it would be difficult to find.

In connection with these notions about wealth there is a curious theory of social intercourse deserving to be considered. Jesus has expressed it thus: "When thou makest a supper or a dinner, do not invite thy friends, or thy brothers, or thy relations, or thy rich neighbors, lest they also should invite thee in return, and thou shouldst have a recompense. But when thou makest a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind; and thou shalt be blessed because they have not the means of making thee a recompense. For thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just" (Lu. xiv. 12-14). Nobody can object to charitable individuals asking poor people or invalids without rank to dinner at their houses; indeed, it is to be wished that the practice were more common than it is. But we cannot admit that this kind action ought to be rendered obligatory, to the exclusion of other modes of conduct. Society, properly speaking, cannot exist except by reciprocity. That sort of friendly intercourse between equals which constitutes society implies giving and taking; and it is eminently desirable that we should do exactly what Christ would forbid us doing, namely, invite our neighbors and be invited by them as circumstances may require. The fear that we may receive a recompense for the dinner-parties we may give is surely chimerical. Pleasantness and mutual advantage are alike promoted by this reciprocity, which, moreover, avoids the discomfort produced when the obligation is wholly on one side. Jesus, in fact, overlooks entirely the more intellectual side of society, and dwells exclusively on the moral side. What he wishes to establish, is not converse between men, but charity. So that a person acting on his views would be excluded from the society of those who might benefit him either materially or morally, and would be confined to those whom he might benefit. Such an arrangement would not in the end be good either for the benefactors or the benefited.