An analysis of religious belief

by viscount John Russell Amberley

His conceptions of justice are seemingly not more perfect than his conceptions of social arrangements. The parable of the laborers is intended to justify the deity in assigning equal rewards to those who have borne unequal burdens, and also to illustrate his doctrine that the first will be last, and the last first. A householder hires a number of laborers to work in his vineyard; some of whom he engages in the morning, others later in the day, others towards its close. All of them receive a denarium in payment, though some had worked the whole day, and others only an hour. At this result the class which had worked the longer time grumble; but the householder defends himself by appealing to the strict terms of his contract, by which he had bound himself to give the same wages to all (Mt. xx. 1-16). No doubt the laborers who had borne the burden and heat of the day had no legal standing-point for their complaint; but the sentiment that prompted it was none the less a just one. Granting the validity of the master's plea that he had honorably fulfilled his bargain, it may still be urged that the bargain itself was not of an equitable character. Plainly, a sum which is adequate pay for an hour, is inadequate for ten or twelve; and that which is sufficient for a day is excessive for an evening. And the same argument applies to a future state. If, as is so often urged, it is to be a compensation for the sufferings of this state, then it ought to bear some proportion to those sufferings. But how can this be effected? Jesus saw the difficulty, and endeavored, but not successfully, to meet it by this parable.

But the imperfection of his sense of justice is nowhere more conspicuously shown than in the conduct he ascribes to God. To recur again to the case of Lazarus and Dives. Not only is the rich man punished with frightful torture, but his humble and kindly request that Lazarus might be allowed to warn his five brothers of their possible fate is met with a peremptory refusal. The only reason alleged for this cruelty is that they have Moses and the prophets, who certainly did not inform them that the mere possession of wealth or enjoyment of luxury was punished by everlasting misery (Lu. xvi. 27-31). In other places, too, the horrible doctrine of unending punishment is asserted by Jesus, and all the efforts of his modern disciples will not explain away this fact. The tares are to be bound up in bundles to be burnt. The wicked are to be cast into a furnace of fire, where there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth (Mt. xiii. 30, 42, 50). It is better to enter into life mutilated than to be thrown unmutilated into the fire (Mt. xviii. 8, 9) of hell which is never quenched (Mk. ix. 43-46). The servant who had made no money by usury is cast into outer darkness (Mt. xxv. 30). The righteous go into eternal life; the wicked to eternal punishment (Mt. xxv. 46). Blasphemy against the Holy Ghost cannot be forgiven, but involves eternal damnation (Mk. iii. 29). It is almost needless to observe that no wickedness could ever justify punishment without an end; that is, punishment for punishment's sake; and that the creation of human beings whose existence terminated in torture would be itself a far more terrible crime than any which the basest of mankind can ever commit.

There is one more point as to which his teaching will not bear investigation. It is the doctrine of the power of prayer. He tells his hearers, in the most absolute manner, that they will receive whatever they may ask in prayer, provided they believe (Mk. xi. 24; Mt. xxi. 22). Faith is the grand and sole condition of the accomplishment of all desires. This is the explanation of the withered fig-tree. It was faith that had wrought the change. By faith the disciples might effect not only such matters as the destruction of fig-trees, but far more stupendous miracles (Mt. xxi. 19-21). This is the explanation of the disciples' failure with the lunatic child. It was owing to their want of faith. Had they but faith as a grain of mustard seed—so Jesus told them—they would be able to say to a mountain, "Remove hence thither," and it would be removed. Nothing would be impossible to them (Mt. xvii. 20). And if they had faith themselves, if they really believed in their master's words, and ever attempted the experiment of working such transformations in nature, they must have experienced the bitter disappointment so graphically described by the authoress of "Joshua Davidson" in the case of that sincere Christian. But short of this extreme trial of the power of faith over matter, many generations of pious believers will bear sad witness to the fact that they have asked many things in prayer which they have not received; not least among the number being moral excellence, which they have but imperfectly attained. Yet this, it would seem, might be the most easily granted without interference with the physical universe. And if it be pleaded that no Christian has ever really succeeded in acquiring the degree of faith required to move mountains, what becomes of the promise of Jesus? Is it not a mere form of words, depending for its truth on a condition which human nature never can fulfill?

The opinions of Jesus on the question of the lawfulness of the tribute, and his reply to the Sadducean difficulty about due adjustment of matrimonial relations in a future state, have been already noticed. Neither of these decisions, it has been shown, can be regarded as evincing wisdom or depth of thought. On the other hand, his answer to the scribe who asked him which was the first commandment fully deserves the approbation which his questioner bestowed. After this, remarks the Evangelist triumphantly, no man dared to interrogate him. Passing from these isolated judgments, let us consider now the fullest exposition to be found anywhere of the moral system of Jesus,—the so-called Sermon on the Mount (Mt. v.-vii. inclusive). As reported by Matthew, this is a vast collection of precepts on many different subjects, delivered no doubt on many different occasions. Taken together, they contain the concentrated essence of his teaching, and offer therefore the fairest field for discussion and criticism. He opens his discourse with a series of blessings, in which his extreme fondness for contrasting the present with the future order is markedly exhibited. Those whom he selects as the objects of benediction are the poor in spirit; mourners; the meek; those who hunger and thirst after righteousness; the merciful; the pure in heart; the peace-makers; those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake; the disciples when reviled, persecuted, and unjustly accused. Of the nine classes of those who are thus blessed, five are composed of those whose present condition makes them objects of pity, and who are consoled with the assurance that they shall be rewarded in the kingdom of heaven. After this, the followers of Jesus are admonished that they are the salt of the earth, and that they must cause their light to shine before men. This is followed by that remarkable declaration (already noticed) as to the permanence of the law, and by a warning that, if they wished to enter the kingdom of heaven, their righteousness must exceed that of those odious people, the scribes and Pharisees.

Hereupon Jesus takes up three great commandments—not to kill, not to commit adultery, not to commit perjury—and proceeds to expand their meaning beyond the literal signification of the words. Thus, it had been said, "Thou shalt not kill." But he says, that whoever is angry with his brother shall be liable to the judgment; that whoever says "Raka" to his brother shall be liable to the Sanhedrim; but that whoever says "Fool," shall be liable to hell, or literally, to "the gehenna of fire." The punishment is of undue severity in proportion to the offense; but when, in the following verses, Jesus insists on the importance of doing justice to men before performing religious obligations, he speaks in the truest spirit of humanity. Proceeding to the commandment not to commit adultery, he enjoins an excess of self-discipline. It is not desirable to pluck out the right eye and cut off the right hand because they offend us, though it is well to train them to obey the higher faculties. The argument of Jesus rests only on the assumption that the sinful members, if not destroyed by such violent measures as this, may land the whole body in hell. Dealing next with the question of oaths, he enlarges the prohibition of perjury into a prohibition of all swearing whatsoever, assigning the strangest reasons for avoiding the employment, when taking oaths, of the names of various objects. They are not to swear by heaven, because it is God's throne; nor by the earth, because it is his footstool; nor by Jerusalem, because it is the city of the great king; nor by the head, because we cannot make a single hair black or white. Granting even that the advice is good, what is to be said of these reasons? What would be thought of a Member of Parliament using an exactly parallel argument: namely, that it is wrong to swear by the New Testament, because the person taking the oath cannot make a single type larger or smaller?

The theory embodied in the following verses occupies so cardinal a place in the philosophy of Jesus, that in order to do him justice they must be quoted at length. "You have heard that it has been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. But I tell you not to resist evil; but whoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And as for him who wishes to sue thee, and take thy coat, give him thy cloak also. And whoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go two with him. Give to him that asketh thee; and turn not away from him that wishes to borrow of thee. You have heard that it has been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, and pray for them who persecute you, that you may be sons of your father in heaven; for he causes his sun to rise on bad and good, and sends rain on just and unjust" (Mt. v. 38-45).

Perhaps there is no single point in the moral teaching of Jesus which has been more celebrated than this. It is thought to represent the very acme of perfection, and Christianity takes credit to itself for the embodiment of so magnificent a doctrine in its moral system. And certainly the words of Jesus are so sublime as almost to extort admiration and disarm criticism. Nor would it at all detract from his merits if the principle here laid down should turn out to be no new discovery of his own, but one already reached by great teachers in other lands; for it was through him that it was made known to the Jews of his own age, and thus to the whole of Christendom. Moreover, we cannot suppose that he had ever heard of those who had anticipated the sentiments, and almost the words, of these beautiful sentences in the Sermon on the Mount. Nevertheless, these anticipations exist; and whatever glory this rule may confer on the religion of Christ must belong equally, and even by prior right, to the religion of Lao-tsze and the religion of Buddha. Thus Lao-tsze says, "Return enmity by doing good" (T. t. k., 63). Or again, "I treat the good man well; the man who is not good I also treat well" (Ibid., 49). The very perfection of patience under injustice, extending to the length of blessing those who curse, and turning the other cheek to those who smite the one—is exhibited in the old Buddhistic legend of Pûrna. Pûrna is a convert who spontaneously betakes himself as a missionary to a savage nation. The Buddha asks him what he will do if they address him in coarse and insolent language. He replies that he will consider them good and gentle people not to strike him with their fists or stone him. Should they strike him with their fists or stone him, he will still think them good and gentle neither to strike him with sticks or swords; should they strike him with sticks or swords, he will equally praise them for not killing him; should they even kill him, he will still say, "They are certainly good people, they are certainly gentle people, they who deliver me with so little pain from this body full of impurity" (H. B. I., p. 253). This is certainly a most consistent application of the principle of non-resistance to evil, and of loving one's enemies. No Christian saint or martyr could have followed his master's precepts more faithfully than this Buddhist apostle. But whether those precepts admit of general adoption into the scheme of human morals is a much more difficult question than whether in occasional instances here and there they have led to admirable conduct. Let us call in another Chinese philosopher to our assistance on this point.

The doctrine of returning good for evil, proclaimed, as we have seen, by Lao-tsze, was thus dealt with by his great rival, Confucius. "Some one said, 'What do you say concerning the principle that injury should be recompensed with kindness?' The Master said, 'With what, then, will you recompense kindness? Recompense injury with justice, and recompense kindness with kindness.'" How shall we decide between these authorities? None can question the nobility of the conduct enjoined by Jesus in certain instances. There are cases where the return of good for evil, of blessing for cursing, of benevolence for persecution, is not only the highest practicable virtue, but also the best punishment of the evil-doers. Nevertheless, there is great force in the observations of Confucius. If we are to reward injury by kindness, how are we to reward kindness? Is there to be no difference made between those who do us good and those who do us harm? To so pertinent a question we are compelled to answer that the practical results of such conduct on our part would be simply disastrous. Unkindness would not receive its natural and appropriate penalty, nor kindness its natural and appropriate reward. Not only should we ourselves be losers by our failure to resist injustice, but the worst classes of mankind would receive by that non-resistance a powerful stimulus to evil. Imagine, for example, that, instead of opposing an extortionate claim, we give up our cloak also to the man who wishes to take our coat. Plainly such conduct can have but one result. We shall become the victims of extortionate claims, and our property will be squandered among the undeserving instead of being kept for better uses. Or suppose that persecution for the sake of our opinions, instead of being met with armed resistance, wherever that resistance is likely to be successful, is received only with blessings showered on the heads of the oppressors; without doubt, the hands of the persecuting party will be strengthened, and liberty, which is everywhere the result of resisting evil, will never be established. The freedom we ourselves enjoy, both as a nation in respect of other nations, and as individuals in respect of our domestic government, is the consequence of acting on a principle the direct reverse of that laid down by Jesus. Our ancestors, who were good Christians but much better patriots, would have been amazed indeed at any attempt to persuade them to turn the left cheek to him who smote them on the right. A doctrine more convenient for the purposes of tyrants and malefactors of every description it would be difficult to invent.

At the same time it must be conceded that there is in it some truth, provided we discriminate between fitting and unfitting occasions for its application. It is not the violent man who assaults us, the unscrupulous man who sues us, or the persecutor who tramples on our freedom, who should be met by a benevolent return. But there are offenses of so personal a nature, affecting our individual interest so largely, and the public interest so slightly, that the best way of dealing with them may often be not to resent them, but to receive them with unruffled gentleness. Each person must judge for himself what are the cases to which this possibility applies. But the guiding rule in thus acting must be that we expect by thus returning good for evil to soften the heart of him who has done us wrong, and in the language of Paul to "heap coals of fire on his head." Should the effect be simply to relieve him from the penalty of our resentment without inducing him to change his course, we shall have done him a moral injury and society a material injury, and the probability or improbability of such result should be measured in deciding upon the conduct to be pursued. Properly guarded, and borne in mind as the occasional exception, by no means as the rule, the return of injustice or ill-will by benevolence and kindly feeling may be of the utmost value, both in cultivating the best emotions in those who practice it, and in calling forth the repentance of those towards whom it is practiced; but as a universal and absolute principle it must be utterly rejected. Lao-tsze and Jesus when they affirmed it undoubtedly struck one of the highest notes in human nature. Yet it must be granted that Khung-tsze took a wider view, and that his injunction to recompense injury with justice, and kindness with kindness, is more consistent with a philosophic regard for the interests of mankind, and with a practicable scheme of social ethics.

Jesus proceeds to enjoin his disciples neither to give alms, nor to pray, nor to fast in an ostentatious manner; and in connection with this excellent advice he teaches them the short prayer which has become so famous under his name. The clauses of this prayer may be worth some consideration. It begins with a formula of adoration addressed to "Our father in heaven." Then follows a petition full of meaning to Jesus and those to whom he imparted it, but of little or no signification in the mouths of the millions of modern Christians who daily repeat it: "Thy kingdom come." Jesus hoped, and his disciples caught the hope, that God's kingdom would come very soon; and this prayer was a request for the early realization of the glories of that kingdom. Those who then employed it believed that at any moment it might be granted, and that at no distant period it certainly would be granted. "Thy will be done, as in heaven so also on earth;" a clause embodying the popular conception of another region in which God's will is perfectly obeyed, while here it is met by some counteracting influence. "Give us this day our daily bread," for beyond the daily provision they were not to look; a doctrine which we shall notice shortly. "And forgive us our debts" (or, in Luke, our sins) "as we forgive our debtors; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." Passing over the singular conception of God as leading men into temptation, let us rather notice the preceding petition, on which Jesus himself has supplied a commentary, that we may be forgiven, as we forgive others. In reference to this he tells his hearers, that if they forgive men their trespasses, their heavenly father will forgive theirs; and that if they do not thus behave, neither will he. A kindred doctrine is laid down in the beginning of the next chapter, where he tells them not to judge, that they may not be judged; that with what measure they mete, it shall be measured to them again. And this illustrated in another place by the parable of the servant who, having been excused from the immediate payment of a large debt by his master, refused to excuse a fellow-servant from the payment of a small one; whereupon his master flew into a passion, and "delivered him to the tormentors" (Mt. xviii. 23-35). There is an apparent justice and real emotional satisfaction in the harsh treatment of those who are harsh themselves. But we must not be misled by the immediate gratification we experience at the punishment of the unforgiving servant, supposing that it is right to mete out to each man the measure he metes out to others. Assuredly it does not follow that because a man is unjust or cruel, he should be treated with injustice or cruelty himself. Either it is right to forgive a man's sins, or it is not. If right, then his own harshness in refusing forgiveness to another is one of the sins which should be forgiven. If not right, then neither that nor any other offense should be forgiven by the supreme dispenser of justice. For what reason should the one crime of not forgiving those who trespass against us be selected for a punishment of such extraordinary severity, while it is implied that the penalty of other and graver crimes may by God's mercy be remitted? The fact is, that Jesus is misled by a false analogy between the conduct of one man towards another, in a case where he is personally concerned, and the conduct of a judge towards criminals. Offenses against morality are treated as personal offenses against God, who has therefore the same right to forgive them as a creditor has to excuse his debtor from payment. But in a perfect system of justice, human or divine, there could be no question of forgiveness at all. Every violation of the law would bring its appropriate penalty, and no more. The penalty being thus proportioned to the offense, there could be no question of that sort of "forgiveness" which implies a suspicion that it is, or may be, too severe. No doubt, the temper of the offender, and the probability of his repeating the crime, would be elements to be considered in awarding the sentence. But it must always be borne in mind that either the hope of complete pardon, or the threat of a punishment far heavier than is needed to deter, equally tend to neutralize the effects of our system of justice. And thus it has been in Christendom. The threat of everlasting torture, accompanied with the expectation of complete forgiveness, has been less efficacious than would have been the most moderate of earthly penalties, provided they had been certain. But Jesus was encumbered with a system in which there were no gradations. Thus he represents the deity now as extending complete forgiveness to sins which should have received their fitting retribution; now as visiting with immoderate severity offenses for which more lenient measures would have amply sufficed.