SIR ROBERT ANDERSON
Secret Service
Theologian
A
DOUBTER'S DOUBTS about science and religion
CHAPTER FOUR
HAVE WE A REVELATION?
SCEPTICISM is "not a permanent resting-place for human
reason." The knowledge that there is bad money in circulation does not make us
fling our purse into the gutter, or refuse to replenish it when empty. The
sceptic tries a coin before accepting it, but when once he puts it in his
pocket, his appreciation of it is, for that very reason, all the more
intelligent and full. A convinced doubter makes the best believer.
As Lord
Kelvin declares, "Scientific thought is compelled to accept the idea of
creative power." With an open mind, therefore, and unwavering confidence the
true sceptic acknowledges "the beneficent Creator of the universe." And in no
grudging spirit, but honestly and fully, he will own the obligations and
relationships which this involves. Religion is implied in the acknowledgment of
God. And further, this acknowledgment removes every a priori objection
to the idea of a revelation. It creates indeed a positive presumption in its
favour. For if we are the offspring of a "beneficent Creator," it is improbable
that, in a world so darkened by sorrow and doubt, He would leave us without
guidance, and without light as to our destiny.
At all events, our belief in
God makes it incumbent on us to examine any alleged revelation which is
presented to us with reasonable credentials. If some one brings me what
purports to be a message or letter from my brother, I may dispose of the matter
by answering, " I have no brother"; but if I possess an unknown lost brother, I
cannot refuse to receive the communication and to test its claims on my
attention.
But here we must keep our heads. There is no sphere in which the
functions of the constable are more needed. The existence of a lost brother is
no reason for sheltering impostors. Our belief in God is no reason for
abandoning ourselves to superstition, or submitting to be duped by foolish or
designing men.
Yet another caution is needed here. We have now reached
ground where the judgment of men of science is of no special value whatever. So
long as it is a question of investigating and describing the facts and
phenomena of nature, we sit at their feet with unfeigned admiration of their
genius and industry; but when it becomes a question of adjudicating upon the
evidence with which they furnish us, they must give way to those whose training
and habits of mind make them better fitted for the task. We place the very
highest value upon their testimony as experts in all matters within their own
province, but we cannot consent to their passing from the witness-box to the
judicial bench ; least of all can we consent to their occupying such a position
where the subject-matter is one of which they have no special cognizance.' In
such a case a dozen city merchants, with a trained lawyer to guide their
deliberations, would make a better tribunal than the Royal Society could
supply.
The extreme point to which reason leads us is the recognition of an
unknown God. What now concerns us is the inquiry whether He has revealed
Himself to men. Have we a revelation? A discussion of this question on a
priori lines would have many advantages. But, on the whole, the practical
view of it is the best. And it would be mere pedantry to ignore the peculiar
claims which Christianity has upon our notice. In fact, the question narrows
itself at once to this plain issue, Is Christianity a Divine revelation? If
this question be answered in the negative, it is really useless to discuss the
merits of Islam; and as for Buddha, his popularity in certain quarters in
England as a rival to Christ is proof only of the depth of Saxon silliness.
There is a sense, of course, in which all enthusiasm is inspiration, but for
our present purpose this is a mere fencing with words. The question is
perfectly definite and clear to every one who wishes to understand it, Is
Christianity a revelation from God? Let us examine the witnesses.
If we ask
in what form this alleged revelation comes to us, all Christians are agreed in
placing in our hands a Book; in a word, they point us to the Bible. But here,
at the very threshold, their unanimity ceases. While some would insist that
this is the only revelation, the majority of Christendom would point us also to
a certain class of men so supernaturally gifted and accredited that they are
themselves a revelation. This system, which is popularly associated with Rome,
deserves priority of consideration because of the prestige it enjoys by reason
of the antiquity of its origin, and the influence and number of its disciples.
Moreover, if its claims be accepted, the truth of Christianity is established;
and if on examination they be rejected, the ground is cleared for the
consideration of the main question on its merits.
The founders of
Christianity, we are told, in addition to their ability to work miracles such
as the senses could take notice of, possessed also supernatural powers of a
mystic kind. By certain mystic rites, for instance, they were able to work such
a transformation in common bread and ordinary wine, that, although no available
test could detect the change, the bread really became flesh, and the wine
blood. Further still, we are assured that these powers have been transmitted
from generation to generation, and are now possessed by the successors of the
men who first received them direct from Heaven. And more than this, we are
asked to believe that these miracles are actually performed in our own day, not
in isolated and remote places far removed from observation, but in our midst
and everywhere; and that, too, in the most public and open manner.
If this
be true, it is obvious that not only the miracles which are thus wrought in our
presence, but the very men themselves who cause them, are a Divine revelation.
We are no longer left to reach out toward the Supreme Being by the light of
reason; we are thus brought face to face with God.
Indifference is
impossible in the presence of such demands on our faith. If these men in fact
possess such powers, it is difficult to set a limit to the respect and
veneration due to them. But if their pretensions be false, it is monstrous that
they should be permitted to trade upon the credulity of mankind. Suppose we
admit for the sake of argument that the apostles possessed these powers, the
question remains, Are these same powers in fact possessed by the men who now
claim to exercise them ?
It is not easy to decide what amount of evidence
ought to be deemed sufficient in such a case. But is there any evidence at all?
These powers are not supposed to be conferred immediately from Heaven, but
mediately through other men, who in turn had received them from their
predecessors, and so on in an unbroken line extending back to the days of the
Apostles. No man who is satisfied with the evidence upon which evolution rests
can fairly dispute the proofs of an apostolic succession. Let us, therefore, go
so far in our admissions as even to accept this also; and that, too, without
stopping to investigate the lives of those through whom the "succession"
flowed. Some of them were famous for their piety, others were infamous for
their crimes. But passing all this by, let us get face to face with the living
men who make these amazing demands upon our faith.
Some of these men were
our playmates in childhood, and our class-fellows and companions in school and
college days. We recall their friendly rivalry in our studies and our sports,
and their share in many a debauch that now we no longer speak of when we meet.
Some of them are the firm and valued friends of our manhood. We respect them
for their learning, and still more for their piety and their self-denying
efforts for the good of their fellow-men. Others, again, have fallen from our
acquaintance. Although, ex hypothesi, equally endowed with supernatural
gifts which should make us value their presence at our deathbed, they are
exceptionally addicted to natural vices which lead us to shun them in our
lifetime.
And this disposes of one ground on which possibly a prima
facie case might be set up. If all those who are supposed to possess these
extraordinary powers were distinguished from their fellow-men by high and noble
qualities, their pretensions would at least deserve our respect. But we fail to
find any special marks of character or conduct, which even the most partial
judge could point to for such a purpose.
On what other ground, then, can
these claims be maintained? It is idle to beat about the bush. The fact is
clear as light that there is not a shadow of evidence of any description
whatsoever to support them. This being so, we must at once recall one of the
admissions already made, lest these men should take refuge in an appeal to the
New Testament as establishing their position. The enlightened Christianity of
the Reformation emphatically denies that even the Apostles themselves possessed
such powers, or that the Bible gives any countenance whatever to the assumption
of them. In a word, Christians who are the very elite of Christendom maintain
that such pretensions have no Scriptural foundation whatever.
If
Christianity be true, we need not hesitate to believe that certain men are
divinely called and qualified as religious teachers. But this position is
separated by an impassable gulf from the mystic pretensions of priestcraft. In
truth, sacerdotalism presents extraordinary problems for the consideration of
the thoughtful. If it prevailed only among the ignorant and degraded, it would
deserve no attention. But the fact is beyond question that its champions and
votaries include men of the highest intellectual eminence and moral worth. The
integrity of such men is irreproachable. They are not accomplices in a wilful
fraud upon their fellows; they are true and honest in their convictions. How,
then, are we to account for the fact that many who hold such high rank as
scholars and thinkers are thus the dupes of such a delusion? How is it to be
explained that here in England, while we boast of increasing enlightenment,
this delusion is regaining its hold upon the religious life of the nation? The
national Church, which half a century ago was comparatively free from the evil,
is now hopelessly leavened with it. The more this matter is studied the more
inexplicable it seems, unless we are prepared to believe in the existence of
spiritual influences of a sinister kind, by which in the religious sphere the
minds even of men of intellect and culture are liable to be warped and
blinded.'
Footnote To discuss the legality of such views and
practices in the Church of England would be foreign to my argument, and outside
the scope of my book; and moreover, having regard to Articles XXVIII. and
XXXI., I cannot see that the question is open. Here is one clause of Article
XXVIII. "Transubstantiation (or the change of the substaace of Bread and Wine)
in the Supper of the Lord cannot be proved by holy Writ; but is repugnant to
the plain words of Scripture, overthroweth the nature of a Sacrament, and hath
given occasion to many superstitions." It may be interesting to notice here
that this vetoes the superstitious meaning which almost universally attaches to
the word "sacrament." It is the equivalent of the Greek word, which is used by
the LXX in Daniel ii. 18, 19, 27, 28, 29, 30, 47, and iv. 9, and is always
rendered secret in our English version. This moreover is its ordinary meaning
in the New Testament. But the word was even then acquiring the meaning usually
given to it in the Greek Fathers, viz., a symbol or secret sign. See, e.g.,
Rev. 1: 20, and xvii. 5, 7. And this is the significance of the English word
"sacrament." It connotes something which represents something else; and so we
find that in old writers Noah's rainbow, the brazen serpent, &c., are
called "sacraments." And in this sense it is that the bread and wine in the
"Eucharist" are a "sacrament" ; they represent the body and blood of Christ.
Therefore to hold that they are in fact His body and blood is to "overthrow the
nature of a sacrament."
Our practice of kissing the book in taking a
judicial oath is in this sense a "sacrament." And there can be no doubt that it
was owing to some symbolic act of this kind that the Latin word sacramentum
came to mean a soldier's oath.
Chapter Five
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