This new and, in appearance, more liberal attitude towards modern ideas of progress has raised the hopes of many in the Roman Church whose minds and consciences are troubled by the ever-widening chasm which separates traditional dogma from secular knowledge. While dogma was stationary—immobilis et irreformabilis—there seemed to be no prospect except that the progress of human knowledge would leave theology further and further behind, till the rupture between Catholicism and civilisation became absolute. The idea that the Church would ever modify her teaching to bring it into harmony with modern science seemed utterly chimerical. But if the static theory of revelation is abandoned, and a dynamic theory substituted for it; if the divine part of Christianity resides, not in the theoretical formulations of revealed fact, but in the living and energising spirit of the Church; why should not dogmatic theology become elastic, changing periodically in correspondence with the development of human knowledge, and no longer stand in irreconcilable contradiction with the ascertained laws of nature?
Thus the dethronement of tradition by the Pope contributed to make the Modernist movement possible. The Modernists have even claimed Newman as on their side. This appeal cannot be sustained. 'The Development of Christian Doctrine' is mainly a polemic against the high Anglican position, and an answer to attacks upon Roman Catholicism from this side. Anglicanism at that time had committed itself to a thoroughly stationary view of revelation. Its 'appeal to antiquity'—a period which, in accordance with a convenient theory, it limited to the councils of the 'undivided Church'—was intended to prove the catholicity and orthodoxy of the English Church, as the faithful guardian of apostolic tradition, and to condemn the medieval and modern accretions sanctioned by the Church of Rome. The earlier theory of tradition left the Roman Church open to damaging criticism on this side; no ingenuity could prove that all her doctrines were 'primitive.' Even in those early days of historical criticism, it must have been plain to any candid student of Christian 'origins' that the Pauline Churches were far more Protestant than Catholic in type. But Newman had set himself to prove that 'the Christianity of history is not Protestantism; if ever there were a safe truth, it is this,' Accordingly, he argues that 'Christianity came into the world as an idea rather than an institution, and had to fit itself with armour of its own providing.' Such expressions sound very like the arguments of the Modernists; but Newman assuredly never contemplated that they would be turned against the policy of his own Church, in the interests of the critical rationalism which he abhorred. His attitude towards dogma is after all not very different from that of the older school. 'Time was needed' (he says) 'for the elucidation of doctrines communicated once for all through inspired persons'; his examples are purgatory and the papal supremacy. He insists that his 'tests' of true development are only controversial, 'instruments rather than warrants of right decisions.' The only real 'warrant' is the authority of the infallible Church. It is highly significant that one of the features in Roman Catholicism to which he appeals as proving its unblemished descent from antiquity is its exclusiveness and intolerance.
'The Fathers (he says complacently) anathematised doctrines, not because they were old, but because they were new; for the very characteristic of heresy is novelty and originality of manifestation. Such was the exclusiveness of the Christianity of old. I need not insist on the steadiness with which that principle has been maintained ever since.'
The Cardinal is right; it is quite unnecessary to insist upon it; but, when the Modernists claim Newman as their prophet, it is fair to reply that, if we may judge from his writings, he would gladly have sent some of them to the stake.
The Modernist movement, properly so called, belongs to the last twenty years, and most of the literature dates from the present century. It began in the region of ecclesiastical history, and soon passed to biblical exegesis, where the new heresy was at first called 'concessionism,' The scope of the debate was enlarged with the stir produced by Loisy's 'L'Évangile et l'Église' and 'Autour d'un Petit Livre'; it spread over the field of Christian origins generally, and problems connected with them, such as the growth of ecclesiastical power and the evolution of dogma. For a few years the orthodox in France generally spoke of the new tendency as loisysme. It was not till 1905 that Edouard Le Roy published his 'Qu'est-ce qu'un dogme?' which carried the discussion into the domain of pure philosophy, though the studies of Blondel and Laberthonnière in the psychology of religion may be said to involve a metaphysic closely resembling that of Le Roy. Mr. Tyrrell's able works have a very similar philosophical basis, which is also assumed by the group of Italian priests who have remonstrated with the Pope.[57] M. Loisy protests against the classification made in the papal Encyclical which connects biblical critics, metaphysicians, psychologists, and Church reformers, as if they were all partners in the same enterprise. But in reality the same presuppositions, the same philosophical principles, are found in all the writers named; and the differences which may easily be detected in their writings are comparatively superficial. The movement appears to be strongest in France, where the policy of the Vatican has been uniformly unfortunate of recent years, and has brought many humiliations upon French Catholics. Italy has also been moved, though from slightly different causes. In the protests from that country we find a tone of disgust at the constitution of the Roman hierarchy and the character of the papal entourage, about which Italians are in a position to know more than other Catholics. Catholic Germany has been almost silent; and Mr. Tyrrell is the only Englishman whose name has come prominently forward.
It will be convenient to consider the position of the Modernists under three heads: their attitude towards New Testament criticism, especially in relation to the life of Christ; their philosophy; and their position in the Roman Catholic Church.
The Modernists themselves desire, for the most part, that criticism rather than philosophy should be regarded as the starting-point of the movement. 'So far from our philosophy dictating our critical method, it is the critical method that has of its own accord forced us to a very tentative and uncertain formulation of various philosophical conclusions.... This independence of our criticism is evident in many ways.'[58] The writers of this manifesto, and M. Loisy himself, appear not to perceive that their critical position rests on certain very important philosophical presuppositions; nor indeed is any criticism of religious origins possible without presuppositions which involve metaphysics. The results of their critical studies, as bearing on the life of Christ, we shall proceed to summarise, departing as little as possible from the actual language of the writers, and giving references in all cases. It must, however, be remembered that some of the group, such as Mr. Tyrrell, have not committed themselves to the more extreme critical views, while others, such as the Abbé Laberthonnière, the most brilliant and attractive writer of them all, hold a moderate position on the historical side. It is perhaps significant that those who are specialists in biblical criticism are the most radical members of the school.
The Gospels, says M. Loisy, are for Christianity what the Pentateuch is for Judaism. Like the Pentateuch, they are a patchwork and a compound of history and legend. The differences between them amount in many cases to unmistakable contradictions. In Mark the life of Jesus follows a progressive development. The first to infer His Messiahship is Simon Peter at Cæsarea Philippi; and Jesus Himself first declares it openly in His trial before the Sanhedrin. In Matthew and Luke, on the contrary, Jesus is presented to the public as the Son of God from the beginning of His ministry; He comes forward at once as the supreme Lawgiver, the Judge, the anointed of God. The Fourth Gospel goes much further still. His heavenly origin, His priority to the world, His co-operation in the work of creation and salvation, are ideas which are foreign to the other Gospels, but which the author of the Fourth Gospel has set forth in his prologue, and, in part, put into the mouth of John the Baptist.[59] The difference between the Christ of the Synoptic Gospels and the Christ of John may be summed up by saying that 'the Christ of the Synoptics is historical, but is not God; the Johannine Christ is divine, but not historical.'[60] But even Mark (according to M. Loisy) probably only incorporates the document of an eye-witness; his Gospel betrays Pauline influence.[61] The Gospel which bears his name is later than the destruction of Jerusalem, and was issued, probably about A.D. 75, by an unknown Christian, not a native of Palestine, who wished to write a book of evangelical instruction in conformity with the ideas of the Hellenic-Christian community to which he belonged.[62] The tradition connecting it with Peter may indicate that it was composed at Rome, but has no other historical value.[63]
The Gospel of Matthew was probably written about the beginning of the second century by a non-Palestinian Jew residing in Asia Minor or Syria. He is before all things a Catholic ecclesiastic, and may well have been one of the presbyters or bishops of the churches in which the institution of a monarchical episcopate took root.[64] The narratives peculiar to Matthew have the character rather of legendary developments than of genuine reminiscences. The historical value of these additions is nil. As a witness to fact, Matthew ranks below Mark, and even below Luke.[65] In particular, the chapters about the birth of Christ seem not to have the slightest historical foundation. The fictitious character of the genealogy is proved by the fact that Jesus seems not to have known of His descent [from David]. The story of the virgin birth turns on a text from Isaiah. Of this part of the Gospel, Loisy says, 'rien n'est plus arbitraire comme exégèse, ni plus faible comme narration fictive.'[66] Luke has taken more pains to compose a literary treatise than Mark or Matthew. The authorities which he follows seem to be—the source of our Mark, the so-called Matthew logia, and some other source or sources. But he treats his material more freely than Matthew. 'The lament of Christ over the holy city, His words to the women of Jerusalem, His prayer for His executioners, His promise to the penitent thief, His last words, are very touching traits, which may be in conformity with the spirit of Jesus, but which have no traditional basis.'[67] 'The fictitious character of the narratives of the infancy is less apparent in the Third Gospel than in the First, because the stories are much better constructed as legend, and do not resemble a midrash upon Messianic prophecies. "Le merveilleux en est moins banal et moins enfantin. II paraît cependant impossible de leur reconnaître une plus grande valeur de fond."'[68]
The Gospel of Luke was probably written (not by a disciple of St. Paul) between 90 and 100 A.D.; but the earliest redaction, which traced the descent of Jesus from David through Joseph, has been interpolated in the interests of the later idea of a virgin birth. The first two chapters are interesting for the history of Christian beliefs, not for the history of Christ. As for the Fourth Gospel, it is enough to say that the author had nothing to do with the son of Zebedee, and that he is in no sense a biographer of Christ, but the first and greatest of the Christian mystics.[69]