The Gospels in the Second Century / An Examination of the Critical Part of a Work Entitled 'Supernatural Religion'

by W. Sanday

The world has undergone a great change since then. A new and far- reaching philosophy is gradually displacing the old. The Christian sees that evolution is as much a law of religion as of nature. The Ethnic, or non-Christian, religions are no longer treated as outside the pale of the Divine government. Each falls into its place as part of a vast divinely appointed scheme, of the character of which we are beginning to have some faint glimmerings. Other religions are seen to be correlated to Christianity much as the other tentative efforts of nature are correlated to man. A divine operation, and what from our limited human point of view we should call a special divine operation, is not excluded but rather implied in the physical process by which man has been planted on the earth, and it is still more evidently implied in the corresponding process of his spiritual enlightenment. The deeper and more comprehensive view that we have been led to take as to the dealings of Providence has not by any means been followed by a depreciation of Christianity. Rather it appears on a loftier height than ever. The spiritual movements of recent times have opened men's eyes more and more to its supreme spiritual excellence. It is no longer possible to resolve it into a mere 'code of morals.' The Christian ethics grow organically out of the relations which Christianity assumes between God and man, and in their fulness are inseparable from those relations. The author of 'Supernatural Religion' speaks as if they were separable, as if a man could assume all the Christian graces merely by wishing to assume them. But he forgets the root of the whole Christian system, 'Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.'

The old idea of the Aufklärung that Christianity was nothing more than a code of morals, has now long ago been given up, and the self-complacency which characterised that movement has for the most part, though not entirely, passed away. The nineteenth century is not in very many quarters regarded as the goal of things. And it will hardly now be maintained that Christianity is adequately represented by any of the many sects and parties embraced under the name. When we turn from even the best of these, in its best and highest embodiment, to the picture that is put before us in the Gospels, how small does it seem! We feel that they all fall short of their ideal, and that there is a greater promise and potentiality of perfection in the root than has ever yet appeared in branch or flower.

No doubt theology follows philosophy. The special conception of the relation of man to God naturally takes its colour from the wider conception as to the nature of all knowledge and the relation of God to the universe. It has been so in every age, and it must needs be so now. Some readjustment, perhaps a considerable readjustment, of theological and scientific beliefs may be necessary. But there is, I think, a strong presumption that the changes involved in theology will be less radical than often seems to be supposed. When we look back upon history, the world has gone through many similar crises before. The discoveries of Darwin and the philosophies of Mill or Hegel do not mark a greater relative advance than the discoveries of Newton and the philosophies of Descartes and Locke. These latter certainly had an effect upon theology. At one time they seemed to shake it to its base; so much so that Bishop Butler wrote in the Advertisement to the first edition of his Analogy that 'it is come to be taken for granted that Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry; but that it is now at length discovered to be fictitious.' Yet what do we see after a lapse of a hundred and forty years? It cannot be said that there is less religious life and activity now than there was then, or that there has been so far any serious breach in the continuity of Christian belief. An eye that has learnt to watch the larger movements of mankind will not allow itself to be disturbed by local oscillations. It is natural enough that some of our thinkers and writers should imagine that the last word has been spoken, and that they should be tempted to use the word 'Truth' as if it were their own peculiar possession. But Truth is really a much vaster and more unattainable thing. One man sees a fragment of it here and another there; but, as a whole, even in any of its smallest subdivisions, it exists not in the brain of any one individual, but in the gradual, and ever incomplete but ever self-completing, onward movement of the whole. 'If any man think that he knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know.' The forms of Christianity change, but Christianity itself endures. And it would seem as if we might well be content to wait until it was realised a little less imperfectly before we attempt to go farther afield.

Yet the work of adaptation must be done. The present generation has a task of its own to perform. It is needful for it to revise its opinions in view of the advances that have been made both in general knowledge and in special theological criticism. In so far as 'Supernatural Religion' has helped to do this, it has served the cause of true progress; but its main plan and design I cannot but regard as out of date and aimed in the air.

The Christian miracles, or what in our ignorance we call miracles, will not bear to be torn away from their context. If they are facts we must look at them in strict connection with that Ideal Life to which they seem to form the almost natural accompaniment. The Life itself is the great miracle. When we come to see it as it really is, and to enter, if even in some dim and groping way, into its inner recesses, we feel ourselves abashed and dumb. Yet this self-evidential character is found in portions of the narrative that are quite unmiraculous. These, perhaps, are in reality the most marvellous, though the miracles themselves will seem in place when their spiritual significance is understood and they are ranged in order round their common centre. Doubtless some elements of superstition may be mixed up in the record as it has come down to us. There is a manifest gap between the reality and the story of it. The Evangelists were for the most part 'Jews who sought after a sign.' Something of this wonder-seeking curiosity may very well have given a colour to their account of events in which the really transcendental element was less visible and tangible. We cannot now distinguish with any degree of accuracy between the subjective and the objective in the report. But that miracles, or what we call such, did in some shape take place, is, I believe, simply a matter of attested fact. When we consider it in its relation to the rest of the narrative, to tear out the miraculous bodily from the Gospels seems to me in the first instance a violation of history and criticism rather than of faith.

Still the author of 'Supernatural Religion' is, no doubt, justified in raising the question, Did miracles really happen? I only wish to protest against the idea that such a question can be adequately discussed as something isolated and distinct, in which all that is necessary is to produce and substantiate the documents as in a forensic process. Such a 'world-historical' event (if I may for the moment borrow an expressive Germanism) as the founding of Christianity cannot be thrown into a merely forensic form. Considerations of this kind may indeed enter in, but to suppose that they can be justly estimated by themselves alone is an error. And it is still more an error to suppose that the riddle of the universe, or rather that part of the riddle which to us is most important, the religious nature of man and, the objective facts and relations that correspond to it, can all be reduced to some four or five simple propositions which admit of being proved or disproved by a short and easy Q.E.D.

It would have been a far more profitable enquiry if the author had asked himself, What is Revelation? The time has come when this should be asked and an attempt to obtain a more scientific definition should be made. The comparative study of religions has gone far enough to admit of a comparison between the Ethnic religions and that which had its birth in Palestine—the religion of the Jews and Christians. Obviously, at the first blush, there is a difference: and that difference constitutes what we mean by Revelation. Let us have this as yet very imperfectly known quantity scientifically ascertained, without any attempt either to minimise or to exaggerate. I mean, let the field which Mr. Matthew Arnold has lately been traversing with much of his usual insight but in a light and popular manner, be seriously mapped out and explored. Pioneers have been at work, such as Dr. Kuenen, but not perhaps quite without a bias: let the same enquiry be taken up so widely as that the effects of bias may be eliminated; and instead of at once accepting the first crude results, let us wait until they are matured by time. This would be really fruitful and productive, and a positive addition to knowledge; but reasoning such as that in 'Supernatural Religion' is vitiated at the outset, because it starts with the assumption that we know perfectly well the meaning of a term of which our actual conception is vague and indeterminate in the extreme—Divine Revelation. [Endnote 10:1]

With these reservations as to the main drift and bearing of the argument, we may however meet the author of 'Supernatural Religion' on his own ground. It is a part of the question—though a more subordinate part apparently than he seems to suppose—to decide whether miracles did or did not really happen. Even of this part too it is but quite a minor subdivision that is included in the two volumes of his work that have hitherto appeared. In the first place, merely as a matter of historical attestation, the Gospels are not the strongest evidence for the Christian miracles. Only one of the four, in its present shape, is claimed as the work of an Apostle, and of that the genuineness is disputed. The Acts of the Apostles stand upon very much the same footing with the Synoptic Gospels, and of this book we are promised a further examination. But we possess at least some undoubted writings of one who was himself a chief actor in the events which followed immediately upon those recorded in the Gospels; and in these undoubted writings St. Paul certainly shows by incidental allusions, the good faith of which cannot be questioned, that he believed himself to be endowed with the power of working miracles, and that miracles, or what were thought to be such, were actually wrought both by him and by his contemporaries. He reminds the Corinthians that 'the signs of an Apostle were wrought among them … in signs, and wonders, and mighty deeds' ([Greek: en saemeious kai terasi kai dunamesi]—the usual words for the higher forms of miracle— 2 Cor. xii. 12). He tells the Romans that 'he will not dare to speak of any of those things which Christ hath not wrought in him, to make the Gentiles obedient, by word and deed, through mighty signs and wonders, by the power of the Spirit of God' ([Greek: en dunamei saemeion kai teraton, en dunamei pneumator Theou], Rom. xv. 18, 19) He asks the Galatians whether 'he that ministereth to them the Spirit, and worketh miracles [Greek: ho energon dunameis] among them, doeth it by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith?' (Gal. iii. 5). In the first Epistle to the Corinthians, he goes somewhat elaborately into the exact place in the Christian economy that is to be assigned to the working of miracles and gifts of healing (1 Cor. xii. 10, 28, 29). Besides these allusions, St. Paul repeatedly refers to the cardinal miracles of the Resurrection and Ascension; he refers to them as notorious and unquestionable facts at a time when such an assertion might have been easily refuted. On one occasion he gives a very circumstantial account of the testimony on which the belief in the Resurrection rested (1 Cor. xv. 4-8). And, not only does he assert the Resurrection as a fact, but he builds upon it a whole scheme of doctrine: 'If Christ be not risen,' he says, 'then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain.' We do not stay now to consider the exact philosophical weight of this evidence. It will be time enough to do this when it has received the critical discussion that may be presumed to be in store for it. But as external evidence, in the legal sense, it is probably the best that can be produced, and it has been entirely untouched so far.

Again, in considering the evidence for the age of the Synoptic Gospels, that which is derived from external sources is only a part, and not perhaps the more important part, of the whole. It points backwards indeed, and we shall see with what amount of force and range. But there is still an interval within which only approximate conclusions are possible. These conclusions need to be supplemented from the phenomena of the documents themselves. In the relation of the Gospels to the growth of the Christian society and the development of Christian doctrine, and especially to the great turning-point in the history, the taking of Jerusalem, there is very considerable internal evidence for determining the date within which they must have been composed. It is well known that many critics, without any apologetic object, have found a more or less exact criterion in the eschatological discourses (Matt. xxiv, Mark xiii, Luke xxi. 5-36), and to this large additions may be made. As I hope some day to have an opportunity of discussing the whole question of the origin and composition of the Synoptic Gospels, I shall not go into this at present: but in the mean time it should be remembered that all these further questions lie in the background, and that in tracing the formation of the Canon of the Gospels the whole of the evidence for miracles—even from this ab extra point of view—is very far from being exhausted.

There is yet another remaining reason which makes the present enquiry of less importance than might be supposed, derived from the particular way in which the author has dealt with this external evidence. In order to explain the prima facie evidence for our canonical Gospels, he has been compelled to assume the existence of other documents containing, so far as appears, the same or very similar matter. In other words, instead of four Gospels he would give us five or six or seven. I do not know that, merely as a matter of policy, and for apologetic purposes only, the best way to refute his conclusion would not be to admit his premisses and to insist upon the multiplication of the evidence for the facts of the Gospel history which his argument would seem to involve. I mention this however, not with any such object, but rather to show that the truth of Christianity is not intimately affected, and that there are no such great reasons for partiality on one side or on the other.