Transcriber's note:

 Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly braces, e. G. {99}. They have been located where page breaks occurred in the original book. For its Index, a page number has been placed only at the start of that section. 

CHRISTIANITY AND ETHICS

A Handbook of Christian Ethics

by

ARCHIBALD B. D. ALEXANDER, M. A. , D. D. 

Author of 'A Short History of Philosophy, ' 'The Ethics of St. Paul, ' etc. 

London: Duckworth & Co. 3 Henrietta St. , Covent Garden1914All rights reserved

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PREFACE

The object of this volume is to present a brief but comprehensive viewof the Christian conception of the moral life. In order to conformwith the requirements of the series to which the volume belongs, thewriter has found the task of compression one of almost insurmountabledifficulty; and some topics, only less important than those dealt with, have been necessarily omitted. The book claims to be, as its titleindicates, simply a handbook or introduction to Christian Ethics. Itdeals with principles rather than details, and suggests lines ofthought instead of attempting an exhaustive treatment of the subject. At the same time, in the author's opinion, no really vital question hasbeen overlooked. The treatise is intended primarily for students, butit is hoped that it may prove serviceable to those who desire asuccinct account of the moral and social problems of the present day. 

A fairly full bibliography has been added, which, along with thereferences to authorities in the body of the work, may be helpful tothose who wish to prosecute the study. For the convenience of readersthe book has been divided into four sections, entitled, Postulates, Personality, Character, and Conduct; and a detailed synopsis ofcontents has been supplied. 

To the Rev. W. R. Thomson, B. D. Of Bellshill, Scotland, who read thechapters in type, and generally put at his disposal much valuablesuggestion, the author would record his most sincere thanks. 

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CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

 PAGEA PLEA FOR THE STUDY OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS . . . . . . . . . . 1

SECTION A--POSTULATES

CHAPTER I

THE NATURE AND SCOPE OF ETHICS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

 I. General Definition. II. Distinctive Features--1. Ideal; 2. Norm; 3. Will. III. Is Ethics a Science? IV. Relation to--1. Logic; 2. Aesthetics; 3. Politics. V. Dependence upon--1. Metaphysics; 2. Psychology. 

CHAPTER II

THE POSTULATES OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22

 I. Philosophical Ethics. II. Dogmatics. III. Theological Presuppositions-- 1. Christian Idea of God. 2. Christian Doctrine of Sin. 3. Human Responsibility. IV. Authority and Method. 

CHAPTER III

ETHICAL THOUGHT BEFORE CHRIST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

 I. In Greece and Rome--Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Stoics. Stoicism and St. Paul. II. In Israel--1. Law; 2. Prophecy; 3. Poetry. Preparatory Character of pre-Christian Morality. 

SECTION B--PERSONALITY

CHAPTER IV

THE ESTIMATE OF MAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55

 I. Conflicting Views of Human Nature-- 1. Man by nature Morally Good. 2. Man by nature Totally Depraved. 3. The Christian View. II. Examination of Man's Psychical Nature-- 1. The Unity of the Soul. 2. The Divine in Man. 3. The Physical and Mental Life. III. Appeal of Christianity to the Mind. 

CHAPTER V

THE WITNESS OF CONSCIENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68

 I. Treatment of Conscience-- 1. In Greek Poetry and Philosophy. 2. In Old Testament. 3. In New Testament. II. Nature and Origin of Conscience-- 1. Intuitionalism. 2. Evolutionalism. III. Validity of Conscience-- 1. The Christian View. 2. The Moral Imperatives. 3. The Permanence of Conscience

CHAPTER VI

'THE MIRACLE OF THE WILL' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

 Is Man free to choose the Good? Creative Power of Volition. Aspects of Problem raised. I. Scientific-- Man and Physical Necessity. II. Psychological-- Determinism and Indeterminism. Criticism of James and Bergson. Spontaneity and Necessity. III. Theological-- Divine Sovereignty and Human Freedom. Jesus and Paul--Challenge to the Will. Freedom--a Gift and a Task. 

SECTION C--CHARACTER

CHAPTER VII

MODERN THEORIES OF LIFE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99

 I. Naturalistic Tendency-- 1. Materialistic-- (1) Idyllic or Poetic--Rousseau. (2) Philosophic--Feuerbach. (3) Scientific--Haeckel. 2. Utilitarian--Hobbes, Bentham, Mill. 3. Evolutionary--Spencer. 4. Socialistic--Marx, Engels. 5. Individualistic-- (1) Aestheticism--Goethe, Schiller. (2) Subjectivism-- (_a_) Pessimism--Schopenhauer. (_b_) Optimism--Nietzsche. II. Idealistic Tendency-- 1. Kant--Categorical Imperative. 2. Fichte and Hegel--Idea of Personality. 3. James--Pragmatism. 4. Bergson--Vitalism. 5. Eucken--Activism. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

 Life, as the highest Good. I. Life, in its Individual Aspect-- 1. Its Intensity. 2. Its Expansion. 3. 'Eternal Life. ' II. Life, in its Social Aspect-- 1. 'The Kingdom of God'-- Eschatological Interpretation. Untenableness of _Interimsethik_. 2. Christ's View of Kingdom-- (1) A Present Reality--a Gift. (2) A Gradual Development--a Task. (3) A Future Consummation--a Hope. III. Life, in its Godward Aspect-- 1. Holiness. 2. Righteousness. 3. Love. 

CHAPTER IX

STANDARD AND MOTIVE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146

 I. Christ as Example-- 1. Portrayal by Synoptists-- (1) Artlessness of Disciples. (2) Naturalness of Jesus, 2. Impression of Power-- (1) Power of Loyalty to Calling. (2) Power of Holiness. (3) Power of Sympathy. 3. Value of Jesus' Example for Present Life-- Misconception of Phrase 'Imitation of Christ. ' II. The Christian Motive-- 1. Analysis of Springs of Conduct-- (1) Divine Forgiveness. (2) Fatherhood of God. (3) Sense of Vocation. (4) Brevity of Life. (5) Idea of Immortality. 2. Question as to Purity of Motive-- (1) Charge of Asceticism. (2) Charge of Hedonism. 3. Doctrine of Rewards-- (1) In Philosophy. (2) In Christianity--(_a_) Jesus; (_b_) Paul. 

CHAPTER X

THE DYNAMIC OF THE NEW LIFE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164

 I. Divine Power-- Operative through Christ's 1. Incarnation and Life. 2. Death and Sacrifice. 3. Resurrection and Indwelling Presence. II. Human Response-- 1. Repentance-- (1) Contrition--Confession--Resolution. (2) Question of 'Sudden Conversion. ' (3) 'Twice Born' or 'Once Born. ' 2. Faith-- (1) In Ordinary Life. (2) In Teaching of Jesus. (3) The Pauline Doctrine. 3. Obedience-- (1) Active Appropriation of Grace. (2) Determination of Whole Personality. (3) Gradual Assimilation. 

SECTION D--CONDUCT

CHAPTER XI

VIRTUES AND VIRTUE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

 Definition of Virtue. I. The Natural Basis of the Virtues-- 'The Cardinal Virtues. ' II. The Christian Transformation of the Virtues-- 1. The New Testament Account. 2. Cardinal Virtues, Elements of Christian Character. 3. Place of Passive Virtues in Life. III. The Unification of the Virtues-- 1. Unity in Relation to God. 2. Love, Spring of all Virtues, 3. 'Theological Virtues, ' Aspects of Love. 

CHAPTER XII

THE REALM OF DUTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199

 I. Aspects of Duty-- 1. Duty and Vocation. 2. Conflict of Duties-- (1) Competing Obligations. (2) 'Counsels of Perfection. ' (3) Indifferent Acts. 3. Rights and Duties-- (1) Claim of 'Natural Rights. ' (2) Based on Worth of Individual. (3) Christian Idea of Liberty. II. Spheres of Duty-- 1. Duties in Relation to Self-- (1) Self-Respect. (2) Self-Preservation. (3) Self-Development-- Self-regarding Duties not prominent in Scripture. Self-Realisation through Self-Sacrifice. 2. Duties in Relation to Others-- (1) Regard for Man: Brotherly Love-- (_a_) Justice. (_b_) Veracity. (_c_) Judgment. (2) Service-- (_a_) Sympathy. (_b_) Beneficence. (_c_) Forgiveness. (3) Example and Influence. 3. Duties in Relation to God-- (1) Recognition. (2) Obedience--Passive and Active. (3) Worship--Reverence, Prayer, Thanksgiving. 

CHAPTER XIII

SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230

 I. The Family-- 1. Origin and Evolution of Family. 2. Christian view-- (1) Christ's Teaching on Marriage. (2) State Regulation and Eugenics. (3) Tendencies to Disparagement. 3. Family Relationships-- (1) Parents and Children. (2) Woman's Place and Rights. (3) Child Life and Education. II. The State-- 1. Basis of Authority-- Tolstoy and Anarchism. 'Social Contract. ' 2. State, in New Testament. 3. Modern Conceptions-- Views of Augustine and Hegel. (1) Duty of State to Citizens. (2) Duty of Citizens to State. (3) The Democratic Movement-- Reciprocity of Service and Sense of Brotherhood. III. The Church-- 1. Relation of Church and State. 2. Purpose and Ideal of Church-- (1) Worship and Edification. (2) Witness to Christ. (3) Evangelisation of Mankind. 3. The Church and the Social Problem-- (1) Christ's Teaching as to Industry and Wealth. (2) Attitude of Early Church to Society. (3) Of Roman and Reformed Churches. 4. Duty of Christianity to the World-- The Missionary Imperative and Opportunity. 

CHAPTER XIV

CONCLUSION--THE PERMANENCE OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS . . . . . . . 245

BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248

INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263

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CHRISTIANITY AND ETHICS

INTRODUCTION

A PLEA FOR THE STUDY OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS

If, as Matthew Arnold says, conduct is three-fourths of life, then acareful inquiry into the laws of conduct is indispensable to the properinterpretation of the meaning and purpose of life. Conduct of itself, however, is merely the outward expression of character; and characteragain has its roots in personality; so that if we are to form a justconception of life we have to examine the forces which shape humanpersonality and raise it to its highest power and efficiency. Inestimating the value of man all the facts of consciousness andexperience must be considered. Hence no adequate account of the end oflife can be given without regard to that which, if it is true, must bethe most stupendous fact of history--the fact of Christ. 

If the Christian is a man to whom no incident of experience is secularand no duty insignificant, because all things belong to God and alllife is dominated by the spirit of Christ, then Christian Ethics mustbe the application of Christianity to conduct; and its theme must bethe systematic study of the ideals and forces which are alone adequateto shape character and fit man for the highest conceivabledestiny--fellowship with, and likeness to, the Divine Being in whoseimage he has been made. This, of course, may be said to be the aim ofall theology. The theologian must not be content to discuss merelyspeculative problems about God and man. He must seek above {2} allthings to bring the truths of revelation to bear upon human practice. All knowledge has its practical implicate. The dogma which cannot betranslated into duty is apt to be a vague abstraction. 

In all ages there has been a tendency to separate truth and duty. Butknowledge has two sides; it is at once a revelation and a challenge. There is no truth which has not its corresponding obligation, and noobligation which has not its corresponding truth. And not until everytruth is rounded into its duty, and every duty is referred back intoits truth shall we attain to that clearness of vision and consistencyof moral life, to promote which is the primary task of Christian Ethics. 

It is this practical element which gives to the study of morals itsjustification and makes it specially important for the Christianteacher. In this sense Ethics is really the crown of theology andought to be the end of all previous study. 

As a separate branch of study Christian Ethics dates only from theReformation. It was natural, and perhaps inevitable that the firstefforts of the Church should be occupied with the formation andelaboration of dogma. With a few notable exceptions, among whom may bementioned Basil, Clement, Alquin and Thomas Aquinas, the Church fathersand schoolmen paid but scanty attention to the ethical side ofreligion. It was only after the Reformation that theology, Roman andProtestant alike, was divided into different branches. The RomanCatholic name for what we style Ethics is 'moral philosophy, ' which, however, consists mainly of directions for father confessors in theirdealing with perplexed souls. Christian Ethics appears for the firsttime as the name of a treatise by a French theologian of theCalvinistic persuasion--Danaeus, whose work, however, is confined to anexposition of the Decalogue. The first recorded work of the Lutheranchurch is the _Theologia Moralis_, written in 1634, by George Calixtus. 

But the modern study of the subject really dates from {3}Schleiermacher (1768-1834), who divides theology into two sections, Dogmatics and Ethics, giving to the latter an independent treatment. Since his time Ethics has been regarded as a separate discipline, andwithin the last few decades increasing attention has been devoted to it. 

This strong ethical tendency is one of the most noticeable features ofthe present age. Everywhere to-day the personal human interest is inevidence. We see it in the literature of the age and especially in thebest poetry, beginning already with Coleridge and Wordsworth, andcontinued in Tennyson and Browning. It is the inner life of man asdepicted to us by these master singers, the story of the soul, evenmore than the delineation of nature which appeals to man's deepestexperience and evokes his finest response. We see it in the art of ourtimes, which, not content to be a mere expression of sensuous beauty orlifeless nature, seeks to be instinct with human sympathy and to becomethe vehicle of the ideas and aims of man. We see it in modern fiction, which is no longer the narration of a simple tale, but the subtleanalysis of character, and the intricate study of the passions andambitions of common life. History to-day is not concerned so much withrecording the intrigues of kings and the movements of armies as withscrutinising the motives and estimating the personal forces which haveshaped the ages. Even in the domain of theology itself this tendencyis visible. Our theologians are not content with discussing abstractdoctrines or recounting the decisions of church councils, but areturning to the gospels and seeking to depict the life of Jesus--toprobe the secret of His divine humanity and to interpret the meaningfor the world of His unique personality. 

Nor is this tendency confined to professional thinkers and theologians, it is affecting the common mind of the laity. 'Never was there atime, ' says a modern writer, 'when plain people were less concernedwith the metaphysics or the ecclesiasticism of Christianity. Theconstruction of systems and the contention of creeds which onceappeared the central themes of human interest are now {4} regarded bymillions of busy men and women as mere echoes of ancient controversies, if not mere mockeries of the problems of the present day. ' The Churchunder the inspiration of this new feeling for humanity is turning withfresh interest to the contemplation of the character of Jesus Christ, and is rising to a more lofty idea of its responsibilities towards theworld. More than ever in the past, it is now felt that Christianitymust vindicate itself as a practical religion; and that in view of thegreat problems--scientific, social and industrial, which the newconditions of an advancing civilisation have created, the Church, if itis to fulfil its function as the interpreter and guide of thought, mustcome down from its heights of calm seclusion and grapple with theactual difficulties of men, not indeed by assuming a political rôle oracting as a divider and judge amid conflicting secular aims, but byrevealing the mind of Christ and bringing the principles of the gospelto bear upon the complex life of society. 

No one who reflects upon the spirit of the times will doubt that thereare reasons of urgent importance why this aspect of Christian life andduty, which we have been considering, should be specially insisted uponto-day. Of these the first and foremost is the prevalence of amaterialistic philosophy. Taking its rise in the evolutionary theoriesof last century, this view is now being applied with relentless logicas an interpretation of the problems of society by a school ofsocialistic writers. Man, it is said, is the creature of heredity andenvironment alone. Condition creates character, and relief from thewoes of humanity is to be sought, not in the transformation of theindividual but in the revolutionising of the circumstances of life. Asa consequence of this philosophy of externalism there is a filteringdown of these materialistic views to the multitude, who care, indeed, little for theories, but are quick to be affected by a prevailing tone. Underlying the feeling of unrest and dissatisfaction, so marked afeature of our present day life, there is distinctly discernible amongthe masses a loosening of religious faith and a slackening {5} of moralobligation. The idea of personality and the sense of duty are not sovivid and strong as they used to be. A vague sentimentalising aboutsin has taken the place of the more robust view of earlier times, andevil is traced to untoward environment rather than to feebleness ofindividual will. And finally, to name no other cause, there is atendency in our day among all classes to divorce religion from life--toseparate the sacred from the secular, and to regard worship and work asbelonging to two entirely distinct realms of existence. 

For these reasons, among others, there is a special need, as it seemsto us, for a systematic study of Christian Ethics on the part of thosewho are to be the leaders of thought and the teachers of the people. The materialistic view of life must be met by a more adequate Christianphilosophy. The unfaith and pessimism of the age must be overcome bythe advocacy of an idealistic conception which insists not only uponthe personality and worth of man, involving duties as well as rights, but also upon the supremacy of conscience in obedience to the law ofChrist. Above all, we need an ethic which will show that religion mustbe co-extensive with life, transfiguring and spiritualising all itsactivities and relationships. Life is a unity and all duty is one, whether it be duty to God or duty to man. It must be all of a piece, like the robe of Christ, woven from the top to the bottom without seam. It takes its spring from one source and is dominated by one spirit. Inthe Christianity of Christ there stand conspicuous two great ideasbound together, indeed, in a higher--love to God the Father. These arepersonal perfection and the service of mankind--the culture of self andthe care of others. 'Be ye perfect' and 'love your neighbour asyourself. ' It is the glory of Christianity to have harmonised theseseemingly competing aims. The disciple of Christ finds that he cannotrealise his own life except as he seeks the good of others; and that hecannot effectively help his fellows except by giving to them that whichhe himself is. This, as we take it, is the Christian conception of themoral life; and it is {6} the business of Christian Ethics to show thatit is at once reasonable and practical. 

The present volume will be divided into _four_ main parts, entitled, _Postulates_, _Personality_, _Character_ and _Conduct_. The _first_will deal with the meaning of Ethics generally and its relation tocognate subjects; and specially with the Philosophical, Psychologicaland Theological presuppositions of Christian Ethics. The _second_ partwill be devoted to man as moral subject, and will analyse thecapacities of the soul which respond to the calls and claims of the newLife. The _third_ Section will involve a consideration of theformative Principles of Character, the moulding of the soul, theIdeals, Motives and Forces by means of which the 'New Man' is'recreated' and fashioned. _Finally_, under Conduct, the Virtues, Duties and Rights of man will be discussed; and the various spheres ofservice and institutions of society examined in relation to which themoral life in its individual and social aspects is manifested anddeveloped. 

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SECTION A

POSTULATES

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CHAPTER I

THE NATURE AND SCOPE OF ETHICS

Philosophy has been defined as 'thinking things together. ' Every man, says Hegel, is a philosopher, and in so far as it is the naturaltendency of the human mind to connect and unify the manifold phenomenaof life, the paradox of the German thinker is not without a measure oftruth. But while this is only the occasional pastime of the ordinaryindividual, it is the conscious and habitual aim of the philosopher. In daily life people are wont to make assumptions which they do notverify, and employ figures of speech which of necessity are partial andinadequate. It is the business of philosophy to investigate thepre-suppositions of common life and to translate into realities thepictures of ordinary language. It was the method of Socrates tochallenge the current modes of speaking and to ask his fellow-men whatthey meant when they used such words as 'goodness, ' 'virtue, ''justice. ' Every time you employ any of these terms, he said, youvirtually imply a whole theory of life. If you would have anintelligent understanding of yourself and the world of which you form apart, you must cease to live by custom and speak by rote. You mustseek to bring the manifold phenomena of the universe and the variousexperiences of life into some kind of unity and see them asco-ordinated parts of a whole. 

When men thus begin to reflect on the origin and connection of things, three questions at once suggest themselves--what, how, and why? Whatis the world? How do I know it? and why am I here? We might brieflyclassify the three great departments of human thought as attempts {10}to answer these three inquiries. What exists is the problem ofMetaphysics. What am I and how do I know? is the question ofPsychology. What is my purpose, what am I to do? is the subject ofEthics. These questions are closely related, and the answer given toone largely determines the solution of the others. The truths gainedby philosophical thought are not confined to the kingdom of abstractspeculation but apply in the last resort to life. The impulse to knowis only a phase of the more general impulse to be and to act. Beneathall man's activities, as their source and spring, there is ever somedim perception of an end to be attained. 'The ultimate end, ' saysPaulsen, 'impelling men to meditate upon the nature of the universe, will always be the desire to reach some conclusion concerning themeaning of the source and goal of their lives. ' The origin and aim ofall philosophy is consequently to be sought in Ethics. 

I. If we ask more particularly what Ethics is, definition affords ussome light. It is to Aristotle that we are indebted for the earliestuse of this term, and it was he who gave to the subject its title andsystematic form. The name _ta ethika_ is derived from _êthos_, character, which again is closely connected with _ethos_, signifyingcustom. Ethics, therefore, according to Aristotle is the science ofcharacter, character being understood to mean according to itsetymology, customs or habits of conduct. But while the modern usage ofthe term 'character' suggests greater inwardness than would seem to beimplied in the ancient definition, it must be remembered that under thetitle of Ethics Aristotle had in view, not only a description of theoutward habits of man, but also that which gives to custom its value, viz. , the sources of action, the motives, and especially the ends whichguide a man in the conduct of life. But since men live before theyreflect, Ethics and Morality are not synonymous. So long as there is acongruity between the customs of a people and the practicalrequirements of life, ethical questions do not occur. It is only whendifficulties arise as to matters of right, for which the {11} existingusages of society offer no solution, that reflection upon moralityawakens. No longer content with blindly accepting the formulae of thepast, men are prompted to ask, whence do these customs come, and whatis their authority? In the conflict of duties, which a wider outlookinevitably creates, the inquirer seeks to estimate their relativevalues, and to bring his conception of life into harmony with thehigher demands and larger ideals which have been disclosed to him. This has been the invariable course of ethical inquiry. At differentstages of history--in the age of the Sophists of Ancient Greece, whenmen were no longer satisfied with the old forms of life and truth: atthe dawn of the Christian era, when a new ideal was revealed in Christ:during the period of the Reformation, when men threw off the bondage ofthe past and made a stand for the rights of the individual conscience:and in more recent times, when in the field of political life theantithesis between individual and social instincts had awakened largerand more enlightened views of civic and social responsibility--thestudy of Ethics, as a science of moral life, has come to the front. 

Ethics may, therefore, be defined as the science of the end oflife--the science which inquires into its meaning and purpose. Butinasmuch as the end or purpose of life involves the idea of some goodwhich is in harmony with the highest conceivable well-being ofman--some good which belongs to the true fulfilment of life--Ethics mayalso be defined as the science of the highest good or _summum bonum_. 

Finally, Ethics may be considered not only as the science of thehighest good or ultimate end of life, but also as the study of all thatconditions that end, the dispositions, desires and motives of theindividual, all the facts and forces which bear upon the will and shapehuman life in its various social relationships. 

II. Arising out of this general definition three features may bementioned as descriptive of its distinctive character among thesciences. 

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1. Ethics is concerned with the _ideal_ of life. By an ideal we meana better state of being than has been actually realised. We areconfessedly not as we should be, and there floats before the minds ofmen a vision of some higher condition of life and society than thatwhich exists. Life divorced from an ideal is ethically valueless. Some conception of the supreme good is the imperative demand and moralnecessity of man's being. Hence the chief business of Ethics is toanswer the question: What is the supreme good? For what should a manlive? What, in short, is the ideal of life? In this respect Ethics asa science is distinguished from the physical sciences. They explainfacts and trace sequences, but they do not form ideals or endeavour tomove the will in the direction of them. 

2. Ethics again is concerned with a _norm_ of life, and in this senseit is frequently styled a normative science. That is to say, it is ascience which prescribes rules or maxims according to which life is tobe regulated. This is sometimes expressed by saying that Ethics treatsof what _ought to be_. The ideal must not be one which simply floatsin the air. It must be an ideal which is possible, and, therefore, assuch, obligatory. It is useless to feel the worth of a certain idea, or even to speak of the desirability of it, if we do not feel also thatit ought to be realised. Moral judgments imply an 'ought, ' and that'ought' implies a norm or standard, in the light of which, as acriterion, all obligation must be tested, and according to which allconduct must be regulated. 

3. Ethics, once more, is concerned with the _will_. It is basedspecifically on the fact that man is not only an intellectual being(capable of knowing) and a sensitive being (possessed of feeling) butalso a volitional being; that is, a being endowed with self-determiningactivity. It implies that man is responsible for his intentions, dispositions and actions. The idea of a supreme ideal at which he isto aim and a norm or standard of conduct according to which he ought toregulate his life, would have no meaning if we did not presuppose thepower of self-determination. {13} Whatever is not willed has no moralvalue. Where there is no freedom of choice, we cannot speak of anaction as either good or evil. [1] When we praise or blame a man'sconduct we do so under the assumption that his action is voluntary. Inall moral action purpose is implied. This is the meaning of thewell-known dictum of Kant, 'There is nothing in the world . . . Thatcan be called good without qualification except a good will. A goodwill is good, not because of what it performs or effects, not by itsaptness for the attainment of some proposed end, but simply by virtueof the volition. '[2] It is the inner aim, the good will which alonegives moral worth to any endeavour. It is not what I do but the reasonwhy I do it which is chiefly of ethical value. The essence of virtueresides in the will, not in the achievement; in the intention ormotive, not in the result. 

III. The propriety of styling Ethics a science has sometimes beenquestioned. Science, it is said, has to do with certain necessary anduniform facts of experience; its object is simply to trace effects fromcauses and to formulate laws according to which sequences inevitablyresult from certain ascertained causes or observed facts. But is notcharacter, with which Ethics confessedly deals, just that concerningwhich no definite conclusions can be predicted? Is not conduct, dependent as it is on the human will, just the element in man whichcannot be explained as the resultant of calculable forces? If the willis free, and is the chief factor in the moulding of life, then youcannot forecast what line conduct will take or predict what shapecharacter will assume. The whole conception of Ethics as a sciencemust, it is contended, fall to the ground, if we admit a variable andincalculable element in conduct. 

Some writers, on this account, are disposed to regard Ethics as an artrather than a science, and indeed, like every normative science, it maybe regarded as lying midway between them. A science may be said toteach us to know {14} and an art to do: but as has been well remarked, 'a normative science teaches to know how to do. '[3] Ethics may indeedbe regarded both as a science and an art. In so far as it examines andexplains certain phenomena of character it is a science: but in so faras it attempts to regulate human conduct by instruction and advice itis an art. [4] Yet when all is said, in so far as Ethics has to do withthe volitional side of man, --with decisions and acts of will, --theremust be something indeterminate and problematic in it which precludesit from being designated an exact science. A certain variablenessbelongs to character, and conduct cannot be pronounced good or badwithout reference to the acting subject. Actions cannot be whollyexplained by law, and a large portion of human life (and that thehighest and noblest) eludes analysis. A human being is not simply apart of the world. He is able to break in upon the sequence of eventsand set in motion new forces whose effects neither he himself nor hisfellows can estimate. It is the unique quality of rational beings thatin great things and in small things they act from ideas. The magicpower of thought cannot be exaggerated. Great conceptions have greatconsequences, and they rule the world. A new spiritual idea shootsforth its rays and enlightens to larger issues generations of men. There is a mystery in every forth-putting of will-power, and everyexpression of personality. Character cannot be computed. The art ofgoodness, of living nobly, if so unconscious a thing may be called anart, is one certainly which defies complete scientific treatment. Itis with facts like these that Ethics has to do; and while we may laydown broad general principles which must underlie the teaching of everytrue prophet and the conduct of every good man, there will always be anelement with which science cannot cope. 

IV. It will not be necessary, after what has been said, to trace atany length the relations between Ethics and the {15} special mentalsciences, such as Logic, Aesthetics, and Politics. 

1. _Logic_ is the science of the formal laws of thought, and isconcerned not with the truth of phenomena, but merely with the laws ofcorrect reasoning about them. Ethics establishes the laws according towhich we ought to act. Logic legislates for the reason, and decernsthe laws which the intellect must obey if it would think correctly. Both sciences determine what is valid; but while Logic is confined tothe realm of what is valid in reasoning, Ethics is occupied with whatis valid in action. There is, indeed, a logic of life; and in so faras all true conduct must have a rational element in it and be guided bycertain intelligible forms, Ethics may be described as a kind of logicof character. 

2. The connection between Ethics and _Aesthetics_ is closer. Aesthetics is the science of the laws of beauty, while Ethics is thescience of the laws of the good. But in so far as Aesthetics dealswith the emotions rather than the reason it comes into contact withEthics in the psychological field. In its narrower sense Aestheticsdeals with beauty merely in an impersonal way; and its immediate objectis not what is morally beautiful, but rather that which is beautiful initself irrespective of moral considerations. Ethics, on the otherhand, is concerned with personal worth as expressed in perfection ofwill and action. Conduct may be beautiful and character may affordAesthetic satisfaction, but Ethics, in so far as it is concerned withjudgments of virtue, is independent of all thought of the mere beautyor utility of conduct. Aesthetic consideration may indeed aidpractical morality, but it is not identical with it. It is conceivablethat what is right may not be immediately beautiful, and may indeed inits pursuit or realisation involve action which contradicts our ideasof beauty. But though both sciences have different aims they areoccupied largely with the same emotions, and are connected by a commonidealising purpose. In the deepest sense, what is good is beautifuland what is beautiful is good; and {16} ultimately, in the moral andspiritual life, goodness and beauty coincide. Indeed, so close is theconnection between the two conceptions that the Greeks used the sameword, _to kalon_, to express beauty of form and nobility of character. And even in modern times the expression 'a beautiful soul, ' indicatesthe intimate relation between inner excellence of life and outwardattractiveness. Both Aesthetics and Ethics have regard to thatsymmetry or proportion of life which fulfils our ideas at once ofgoodness and of beauty. In this sense Schiller sought to remove thesharpness of Kant's moral theory by claiming a place in the moral lifefor beauty. Our actions are, indeed, good when we do our duty becausewe ought, but they are beautiful when we do it because we cannot dootherwise, because they have become our second nature. The purpose ofall culture, says Schiller, is to harmonise reason and sense, and thusto fulfil the idea of a perfect manhood. [5]

 'When I dared question: "It is beautiful, But is it true?" Thy answer was, "In truth lives beauty. "'[6]

3. _Politics_ is still more closely related to Ethics, and indeedEthics may be said to comprehend Politics. Both deal with human actionand institution, and cover largely the same field. For man is notmerely an individual, but is a part of a social organism. We cannotconsider the virtues of the individual life without also consideringthe society to which he is related, and the interaction of the wholeand its part. Politics is usually defined as the science ofgovernment, which of course, involves all the institutions and lawsaffecting men's relations to each other. But while Politics isstrictly concerned only with the outward condition of the state'swell-being and the external order of {17} the community, Ethics seeksthe internal good or virtue of mankind, and is occupied with an idealsociety in which each individual shall be able to realise the true aimand meaning of life. But after all, as Aristotle said, Politics isreally a branch of Ethics, and both are inseparable from, andcomplementary of each other. On the one hand, Ethics cannot ignore thematerial conditions of human welfare nor minimise the economic forceswhich shape society and make possible the moral aims of man. On theother hand, Economics must recognise the service of ethical study, andkeep in view the moral purposes of life, otherwise it is apt to limitits consideration to merely selfish and material ends. 

V. While Ethics is thus closely connected with the sciences justnamed, there are two departments of knowledge, pre-supposed indeed inall mental studies, which in a very intimate way affect the science ofEthics. These are Metaphysics on the one hand and Psychology on theother. 

1. Metaphysics is pre-supposed by all the sciences; and indeed, allour views of life, even our simplest experiences, involve metaphysicalassumptions. It has been well said that the attempt to construct anethical theory without a metaphysical basis issues not in a moralscience without assumptions, but in an Ethics which becomes confused inphilosophical doubts. Leslie Stephen proposes to ignore Metaphysics, and remarks that he is content 'to build upon the solid earth. ' But, as has been pertinently asked, 'How does he know that the earth issolid on which he builds?' This is a question of Metaphysics. [7] Theclaim is frequently made by a certain class of writers, that wewithdraw ourselves from all metaphysical sophistries, and betakeourselves to the guidance of commonsense. But what is this commonsenseof which the ordinary man vaunts himself? It is in reality a number ofvague assumptions borrowed unconsciously from old explodedtheories--assertions, opinions, beliefs, accumulated, no one knows how, {18} and accepted as settled judgments. [8] We do not escape philosophyby refusing to think. Some kind of theory of life is implied in suchwords, 'soul, ' 'duty, ' 'freedom, ' 'power, ' 'God, ' which theunreflecting mind is daily using. It is useless to say we can dispensewith philosophy, for that is simply to content ourselves with badphilosophy. 'To ignore the progress and development in the history ofPhilosophy, ' says T. H. Green, [9] 'is not to return to the simplicityof a pre-philosophic age, but to condemn ourselves to grope in the mazeof cultivated opinion, itself the confused result of these past systemsof thought which we will not trouble ourselves to think out. ' The aimof all philosophy, as Plato said, is just to correct the assumptions ofthe ordinary mind, and to grasp in their unity and cohesion theultimate principles which the mind feels must be at the root of allreality. We have an ethical interest in determining whether there beany moral reality beneath the appearances of the world. Ethicalquestions, therefore, run back into Metaphysics. If we takeMetaphysics in its widest sense as involving the idea of some ultimateend, to the realisation of which the whole process of the world asknown to us is somehow a means, we may easily see that metaphysicalinquiry, though distinct from ethical, is its necessarypre-supposition. The Being or Purpose of God, the great first cause, the world as fashioned, ordered and interpenetrated by Him, and man asconditioned by and dependent upon the Deity--are postulates of themoral life and must be accepted as a basis of all ethical study. Thedistinction between Ethics and Philosophy did not arise at once. Inearly Greek speculation, almost to the time of Aristotle, Metaphysicsand Morals were not separated. And even in later times, Spinoza and tosome extent Green, though they professedly treat of Ethics, hardlydissociate metaphysical from ethical considerations. Nor is that to bewondered at when men are dealing with the first principles of all beingand life. Our view of God and of the {19} world, our fundamental_Welt-Anschauung_ cannot but determine our view of man and his morallife. In every philosophical system from Plato to Hegel, in which theuniverse is regarded as having a rational meaning and ultimate end, thegood of human beings is conceived as identical with, or at least asincluded in the universal good. 

2. But if a sound metaphysical basis be a necessary requisite for theadequate consideration of Ethics, _Psychology_ as the science of thehuman soul is so vitally connected with Ethics, that the two studiesmay almost be treated as branches of one subject. An Ethic which takesno account of psychological assumptions would be impossible. Consciously or unconsciously every treatment of moral subjects ispermeated by the view of the soul or personality of man which thewriter has adopted, and his meaning of conduct will be largelydetermined by the theory of human freedom and responsibility with whichhe starts. Questions as to character and duty invariably lead toinquiries as to certain states of the agent's mind, as to the functionsand possibilities of his natural capacities and powers. We cannotpronounce an action morally good or bad until we have determined theextent and limits of his faculties and have investigated the questionsof disposition and purpose, of intention and motive, which lie at theroot of all conduct, and without which actions are neither moral norimmoral. It is surely a mistake to say, as some do, that as logicdeals with the correctness of reasoning, so Ethics deals only with thecorrectness of conduct, and is not directly concerned with theprocesses by which we come to act correctly. [10] On the contrary, merely correct action may be ethically worthless, and conduct obtainsits moral value from the motives or intentions which actuate anddetermine it. Ethics cannot, therefore, ignore the psychologicalprocesses of feeling, desiring and willing of the acting subject. Itis indeed true that in ordinary life men are frequently judged to begood or bad, according to the outward effect of their actions, andmaterial results are often regarded as the sole {20} measure of good. But while it may be a point of difficulty in theoretic morality todetermine the comparative worth and mutual relation of good affectionsand good actions, all surely will allow that a certain quality ofdisposition or motive in the agent is required to constitute an actionmorally good, and that it is not enough to measure virtue by itsutility or its beneficial effect alone. Hence all moralists are agreedthat the main object of their investigation must belong to thepsychical side of human life--whether they hold that man's ultimate endis to be found in the sphere of pleasure or maintain that hiswell-being lies in the realisation of virtue for its own sake. Theproblems as to the origin and adequacy of conscience, as to the meaningand validity of voluntary action; the questions concerning motives anddesires, as to the historical evolution of moral customs, and man'srelation at each stage of his history to the social, political andreligious institutions amid which he lives--are subjects which, thoughfalling within the scope of Ethics, have their roots in the science ofthe soul. The very existence of a science of Ethics depends upon theanswers which Psychology gives to such questions. If, for example, itbe decided that there is in man no such faculty or organ as conscience, and that what men so designate is but a natural manifestation graduallyevolved in and through the physical and social development of man: orif we deny the self-determining power of human beings and assume thatwhat we call the freedom of the will is a delusion (or at least, in thelast resort, a negligible element) and that man is but one of the manyphenomena or facts of a physical universe--then we may continue, indeed, as some evolutionary and naturalistic thinkers do, to speak ofa science of Ethics, but such a science will not be a study of themoral life as we understand it and have defined it. 

Ethics, therefore, while dependent upon the philosophical sciences, hasits own distinct content and scope. The end of life, that for which aman should live, with all its implications, forms the subject of moralinquiry. It is {21} concerned not merely with what a man is oractually does, but more specifically with what he should be and shoulddo. Hence, as we have seen, the word 'ought' is the most distinctiveterm of Ethics involving a consideration of values and a relation ofthe actual and the ideal. The 'ought' of life constitutes at once thepurpose, law, and reason of conduct. It proposes the three greatquestions involved in all ethical inquiry--whither? how? and why? anddetermines the three great words which are constantly recurring inevery ethical system--end, norm, motive. Moral good is the moral endconsidered as realised. The moral norm or rule impelling the will tothe realisation of this end is called Duty. The moral motiveconsidered as an acquired power of the acting will is called Virtue. [11]

[1] Cf. Mackenzie, _Manual of Ethics_, p. 32; also Wuttke, _ChristianEthics_ (Eng. Trans. ), vol. I. P. 14. 

[2] _Metaph. Of Morals_, sect. I. 

[3] Mackenzie, _Manual of Ethics_, p. 8. See also Muirhead, _Elementsof Ethics_. 

[4] Hyslop, _Elements of Ethics_, p. 1. 

[5] Schiller, _Über Anmuth und Würde_. Cf. Also Ruskin, _Mod. Painters_, vol. Ii. ; Seeley, _Natural Religion_, and Inge, _Faith andits Psychology_, p. 203 ff. See also Bosanquet _Hist. Of Aesthetic_. We are indebted to _Romanticism_, and especially to Novalis in Germanyand Cousin in France for the thought that the good and the beautifulmeet and amalgamate in God. 

[6] Browning. 

[7] Cf. Newman Smyth, _Christian Ethics_, p. 8. 

[8] See Author's _History of Philosophy_, p. 585. 

[9] Introduction to Hume's _Works_. 

[10] Mackenzie seems to imply this view. _Ethics_, p. 25. 

[11] Cf. Haering, _Ethics of the Christian Life_, p. 9. 

{22}

CHAPTER II

THE POSTULATES OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS

We now proceed to define Christian Ethics and to investigate theparticular postulates, philosophical and theological, upon which itrests. 

Christian Ethics presupposes the Christian view of life as revealed inChrist, and its definition must be in harmony with the Christian ideal. The prime question of Christian Ethics is, How ought Christians toorder their lives? It is therefore the science of morals asconditioned by Christian faith; and the problems it discusses are, thenature, meaning and laws of the moral life as dominated by the supremegood which has been revealed to the world in the Person and Teaching ofChrist. It is based upon an historical event, and presupposes aparticular development and consummation of the world. 

I

_The Relation of Christian to Philosophical Ethics_. --Christian Ethicsis a branch of general Ethics. But it is something more; it is Ethicsin its richest and fullest expression--the interpretation of life whichcorresponds to the supreme manifestation of the divine will. For ifthe revelation of God in Christ is true, then that revelation is notmerely a factor, but the factor, which must dominate and colour man'swhole outlook and give an entirely new value to all his aims andactions. In Christianity we are confronted with the motive-power of agreat Personality who has entered into the current of human history and{23} given a new direction to the moral life of man. Man's life at itshighest can only be interpreted in the light of this supremerevelation, and can only be accounted for as the creation of thedynamic force of this unique Personality. 

But while this truth gives to Christian Ethics its distinctivecharacter and pre-eminent worth it does not throw discredit uponphilosophical Ethics, nor indeed separate the two departments by anyhard and fast lines. They have much in common. A large domain ofconduct is covered by both. The so-called pagan virtues have theirvalue for Christian character and are in the line of Christian virtue. Even in his natural state man is constituted for the moral life, and, as St. Paul states, is not without some knowledge of right and wrong. The moral attainments of the ancients are not to be regarded simply as'splendid vices, ' but as positive achievements of good. Duty maydiffer in content, but it is of the same kind under any system. Purityis purity and benevolence benevolence, whether manifested in a heathenor a Christian. While, therefore, Christian Ethics takes its point ofdeparture from the special revelation of God and the unique disclosureof man's possibilities in Christ, it gladly accepts and freely uses theresults of moral philosophy in so far as they throw light upon thefundamental facts of human nature. As a system of morals Christianityclaims to be inclusive. It takes cognisance of all the data ofconsciousness, and assumes as its own, from whatever quarter it maycome, all ascertained truth. The facts of man's natural history, theconclusions from philosophy, the manifold lights afforded by previousspeculation--all are gathered up, sifted and tried by oneall-authoritative measure of truth--the mind of Christ. It completeswhat is lacking in other systems in so far as their conclusions arebased upon an incomplete survey of facts. It deals, in short, withpersonality in its highest ranges of moral power and spiritualconsciousness and seeks to interpret life by its greatest possibilitiesand loftiest attainments as they are revealed in Christ. 

But while Christian Ethics is at one with philosophic {24} Ethics inpostulating a natural capacity for spiritual life, it is differentiatedfrom all non-Christian systems by its distinctive belief in thepossibility of the re-creation of character. Speculative Ethicsprescribes only what ought ideally to be done or avoided. It takes noaccount of the foes of the spiritual life; nor does it consider theremedy by which character, once it is perverted or destroyed, can berestored and transformed. Christian Ethics, on the other hand, isconcerned primarily with the question, By what power can a man achievethe right and do the good? It is not enough to postulate the inherentcapacity of man. Experience of human nature shows that there arehostile elements which too often frustrate his natural development. Hence the practical problem which Christian Ethics has to face is, Howcan the spiritual ideal be made a reality? It regards man as standingin need of recovery, and it is forced to assume, that whichphilosophical Ethics does not recognise, a divine power by whichcharacter can be renewed. Christianity claims to be 'the power of Godunto salvation to every one that believeth. ' Christian Ethicstherefore is based upon the twofold assumption that the ideal ofhumanity has actually been revealed in Christ, and that in Him also isthe power by which man may realise this ideal. 

II

_The relation of Christian Ethics to Dogmatics_. --Within the sphere oftheology proper the two main constituents of Christian teaching areDogmatics and Ethics, or Doctrines and Morals. Though it is convenientto regard these separately they really form a whole, and are but twoaspects of one subject. It is difficult to define their limits, and tosay where Dogmatics ends and Ethics begins. The distinction issometimes expressed by saying that Dogmatics is a theoretic science, whereas Ethics is practical. It is true that Ethics stands nearer toeveryday life and deals with matters of practical conduct, whileDogmatics is concerned with beliefs and treats of their origin andelucidation. {25} But, on the other hand, Ethics also takes cognisanceof beliefs as well as actions, and is interested in judgments not lessthan achievements. There is a practical side of doctrine and there isa theoretic side of morals. Even the most theoretic of sciences, Metaphysics, though, as Novalis said, it bakes no bread, is not withoutits direct bearing upon life. Dogmatic theology when divorced frompractical interest is in danger of becoming mere pedantry; and ethicalinquiry, if it has no dogmatic basis, loses scientific value and sinksinto a mere enumeration of duties. Nor is the common statement, thatDogmatics shows what we should believe and Ethics what we ought to do, an adequate one. Moral precepts are also objects of faith, and what weshould believe involves moral requirements and pre-supposes a moralcharacter. Schleiermacher has been charged with ignoring thedifference between the two disciplines, but with scant justice. For, while he regards the two subjects as but different branches ofChristian theology, and insists upon their intimate connection, he doesnot neglect their distinction. There has been a growing tendency toaccentuate the difference, and recent writers such as Jacoby, Haeringand Lemme, not to mention Martensen, Dorner and Wuttke, claim forEthics a separate and independent treatment. The ultimate connectionbetween Dogmatics and Ethics cannot be ignored without loss to both. It tends only to confusion to speak as some do of 'a creedlessmorality. ' On the one hand, Ethics saves Dogmatics from evaporatinginto unsubstantial speculation, and by affording the test ofworkableness, keeps it upon the solid foundation of fact. On the otherhand, Dogmatics supplies to Ethics its formative principles andnormative standards, and preserves the moral life from degeneratinginto the vagaries of fanaticism or the apathy of fatalism. But whileboth sciences form complementary sides of theology and stand inrelations of mutual service, each deals with the human consciousness ina different way. Dogmatics regards the Christian life from thestandpoint of divine dependence: Ethics regards it from the {26}standpoint of human determination. Dogmatics deals with faith inrelation to God, as the receptive organ of grace: Ethics views faithrather in relation to man, as a human activity or organ of conduct. The one shows us how our adoption into the kingdom of God is the workof divine love: the other shows how this knowledge of salvationmanifests itself in love to God and man, and must be worked out throughall the relationships of life. 

III

We may define more particularly the relation of Ethics to Dogmatics byenumerating briefly the doctrinal postulates or assumptions with whichEthics starts. 

1. Ethics assumes the Christian _idea of God_. God is for Ethics notan impersonal force, nor even simply the creator of the universe asphilosophy might conceive Him. [1] Creative power is not of coursedenied, but it is qualified by what theology calls the 'moralattributes of God. ' We do not ignore His omnipotence, but we lookbeyond it, to 'the love that tops the power, the Christ in God. '[2] Itis not necessary here to sketch the Old Testament teaching with regardto God. It is sufficient to state that the New Testament writers, while not attempting to proclaim abstract doctrines, took overgenerally the Hebrew conception of the Deity as a God who was at oncealmighty, holy and righteous. The distinctive note which the NewTestament emphasises is the Personality of God, and personalityincludes reason, will and love. The fact that we are His offspring, asSt. Paul argues, is the basis of our true conception of God's nature. Through that which is highest in man we are enabled to discernsomething of His character. But it is specially in and through JesusChrist that the distinctive character of the Divine Personality isdeclared. Christ reveals Him as our Father, and everywhere the New{27} Testament writers assume that men stand in the closest filialrelations to him. In the fundamental conception of divine Fatherhoodthere are implicitly contained certain elements of ethicalsignificance. [3] Of these may be mentioned:

(1) _The Spiritual Perfection of God_. --The Christian doctrine of Godincludes not only His personality, but His spiritual perfection. Allthat is highest and best in life is attributed to God. What we regardas having supreme moral worth is eternally realised in Him. It is thisfact that prescribes man's ideal and makes it binding. 'Be ye perfecteven as your Father in heaven is perfect, ' says Christ. Because ofwhat God is, spiritual and moral excellence takes precedence of allother aims which can be perceived and pursued by man. Morality is therevelation of an ideal eternally existing in the divine mind. 'Thebelief in God, ' it has been said, 'is the logical pre-supposition of anobjective or absolute morality. '[4] The moral law, as the norm andgoal of our life, obtains its validity and obligation for us notbecause it is an arbitrarily-given command, but because it is of thevery character of God. 

(2) _The Sovereignty of God_. --Not only the spiritual perfection butthe moral sovereignty of God is pre-supposed. He is the supremeexcellence on whom all things depend, and in whom they find theirultimate explanation. The world is not merely His creation, it is theexpression of His mind. He is not related to the universe as an artistis related to his work, but rather as a personal being to his ownmental and moral activities. [5] He is immanent in all the phenomena ofnature and movements of life and thought; and in the order and purposeof the world His character and will are manifested. The fact that themeaning and order of things are not imposed from without, butconstitute their inner nature, reveals not only the completeness of His{28} sovereignty, but the purpose of it. The highest end of God, asmoral and spiritual, is fulfilled by the constitution and education ofspiritual beings like Himself, and in laying down the conditions whichare necessary for their existence and perfecting. No definition ofdivine sovereignty can exclude the idea of moral freedom and theconsequences bound up with it. Hence God must not only confer the giftof individual liberty, but respect it throughout the whole course ofHis dealings with man. 

(3) _The Supremacy of Love_. --This is the highest and most distinctivefeature of the divine personality. It is the sum of all the others; aswell as the special characteristic of the Fatherhood of God as revealedby Christ. 'God is love' is the crowning statement of the Gospel andthe fullest expression of the divine nature. The essential of all loveis self-giving; and the peculiarity of God's love is the communicationand imparting of Himself to His creatures. The love of God finds itshighest manifestation in the gift and sacrifice of His Son. He is thesupreme personality in history, revealing God in and to the world. Inthe light of what Christ is we know what God is, and from Hisrevelation there flows a new and ever-deepening experience of thedivine Being. 

2. Christian Ethics presupposes the _Christian doctrine of Sin_. Itis not the province of Ethics to discuss minutely the origin of evil orpropound a theory of sin. But it must see to it that the view it takesis consistent with the truths of revelation and in harmony with thefacts of life. A false or inadequate conception of sin is asdetrimental to Ethics as it is to Dogmatics; and upon our doctrine ofevil depends very largely our interpretation of life in regard to itsdifficulties and purposes, its trials and triumphs. In the meantime itis enough to remark that considerable vagueness of idea and loosenessof expression exist concerning this subject. 

While some regard sin simply as a _defect_ or shortcoming, a missing ofthe mark, as the Greek word _hamartia_ implies, others treat it as a_disease_, or infirmity of the flesh--a malady affecting the physicalconstitution which may be {29} incurred by heredity or induced byenvironment. In both cases it is regarded as a misfortune, rather thana fault, or even as a fate from which the notion of guilt is absent. While there is an element of truth in these representations, they aredefective in so far as they do not take sufficient account of thepersonal and determinative factor in all sinful acts. The Christianview, though not denying that physical weakness and the influence ofheredity and environment do, in many cases, affect conduct, affirmsthat there is a personal element always present which these conditionsdo not explain. Sin is not merely negative. It is something positive, not so much an imperfection as a trespass. It is to be accounted fornot as an inherited or inherent malady, but as a self-chosenperversity. It belongs to the spirit rather than to the body, andthough it has its seat in the heart and in the emotions, it has to doprincipally with the will. 'Every man is tempted when he is drawn awayby his own lust and enticed. Then when lust has conceived it bringethforth sin. '[6] The essence of sin is selfishness. It is thedeliberate choice of self in preference to God--personal and wilfulrebellion against the known law of righteousness and truth. There are, of course, degrees of wrongdoing and undoubtedly extenuatingcircumstances which must be taken into account in estimating thesignificance and enormity of guilt, but in the last resort ChristianEthics is compelled to postulate the fact of sin, and to regard it as apersonal rebellion against the holy will of God, the deliberate choiceof self and the wilful perversion of the powers of man into instrumentsof unrighteousness. 

3. A third postulate, which is a corollary of the Christian view ofGod and of sin, is the _Responsibility of Man_. Christian Ethicstreats every man as accountable for his thoughts and actions, andtherefore, as capable of choosing the good as revealed in Christ. While not denying the sovereignty of God, nor minimising the mystery ofevil, Christianity firmly maintains the doctrine of human freedom. AnEthic would be impossible if, on the one side, grace were absolutely{30} irresistible; or, on the other, sin were unalterably necessitated. Whatever be the doctrine we formulate on these subjects, Ethics demandsthat what we call freedom be safeguarded. An interesting questionemerges at this point as to the possibility, apart from a knowledge ofChrist, of choosing the good. Difficult as this question is, andthough it was answered by Augustine and many of the early Fathers inthe negative, the modern, and probably the more just view, is that wecannot hold mankind responsible unless we allow to all men the largerfreedom and judge them according to their light and opportunity. Ifnon-Christians are fated to do evil, then no guilt can be imputed. History shows that a love of goodness has sometimes existed, and thatmany isolated acts of purity and kindness have been done, among peoplewho have known nothing of the historical Christ. The New Testamentrecognises degrees of depravity in nations and individuals, and ameasure of noble aspiration and honest endeavour in ordinary humannature. St. Paul plainly assumes some knowledge and performance on thepart of the heathen, and though he denounces their immorality inunsparing terms, he does not affirm that pagan society was so corruptthat it had lost all knowledge of moral good. 

IV

Before concluding this chapter some remarks regarding the authority andmethod of Christian Ethics may be not inappropriate. 

1. Christian Ethics is not directly concerned with critical questionsas to the genuineness and authenticity of the New Testament writings. It is sufficient for its purpose that these have been generallyreceived by the Church, and that they present in the Person of Christthe highest embodiment of the law and spirit of the moral life. Thewritings of the New Testament thus become ethically normative in virtueof their direct reflection of the mind of Christ and their specialreceptivity of His spirit. Their {31} authority, therefore, isChrist's own authority, and has a value for us as His word isreproduced by them. It does not detract from the validity of the NewTestament as the reflection of the spirit of Christ that there arediscernible in it distinct signs of development of doctrine, a manifestgrowth in clearness and depth of insight and knowledge of the mind ofJesus. Such evidences of advancement are specially noticeable in theapplication of Christian principles to the practical problems of life, such as the questions of slavery, marriage, work and property. St. Paul does not disclaim the possibility of development, and heassociates himself with those who know in part and wait for fullerlight. In common with all Christians, Paul was doubtless conscious ofa growing enrichment in spiritual knowledge; and his later epistlesshow that he had reached to clearer prospects of Christ and Hisredemption, and had obtained a fuller grasp of the world-widesignificance of the Gospel than when he first began to preach. 

One cannot forget that the battle of criticism is raging to-day aroundthe inner citadel--the very person and words of Jesus. If it can beshown that the Gospels contain only very imperfect records of thehistorical Jesus, and that very few sayings of our Lord can bedefinitely pronounced genuine, then, indeed, we might have to give upsome of the particular passages upon which we have based our conceptionof truth and duty, but nothing less than a wholesale denial of thehistorical existence of Jesus[7] would demand of us a repudiation ofthe Christian view of life. The ideals, motives, and sentiments--theentire outlook and spirit of life which we associate with Christ--arenow a positive possession of the Christian consciousness. There is aChristian view of the world, a Christian _Welt-Anschauung_, so livingand real in the heart of Christendom that even though we had no morereliable basis than the 'Nine Foundation Pillars' which Schmiedelcondescends to leave us, we should not be wholly deprived of thefundamental principles upon which the Christian life might be reared. {32} If to these we add the list of 'doubly attested sayings' collectedby Burkitt, [8] which even some of the most negative critics have beenconstrained to allow, we should at least have a starting-point for thestudy of the teaching of Jesus. The most reputable scholars, however, of Germany, America and Britain acknowledge that no reasonable doubtcan be cast upon the general substance and tone of the SynopticGospels, compiled, as they were, from the ancient Gospel of Mark andthe source commonly called 'Q' (_i. E. _ the lost common origin of thenon-Markian portions of Matthew and Luke). To these we should bedisposed to add the Fourth Gospel, which, though a less primary source, undoubtedly records acts and sayings of our Lord attested by one, who(whosoever he was) was in close touch with his Master's life, and haddrunk deeply of His spirit. 

In the general tone and trend of these writings we find abundantmaterials for what may be called the Ethics of Jesus. It is true, nosharp line can be drawn between His religious and moral teaching. But, taking Ethics in its general sense, as the discussion of the ideals, virtues, duties of man, the relation of man to God and to hisfellow-men, it will at once be seen that a very large portion ofChrist's teaching is distinctly ethical. The facts of His own earthlyexistence, all His great miracles, His parables, and above all, theSermon on the Mount, have an immediate bearing upon human conduct. They all deal with character, and are chiefly illustrations andenforcements of the divine ideal of life and of the value of man as achild of God which He came to reveal. In the example of Jesus Himselfwe have the best possible illustration of the translation of principlesinto life. And in so far as we find our highest good embodied in Him, He becomes for us, as J. S. Mill acknowledged, a kind of personifiedconscience. No abstract statement of ethical principles can possiblyinfluence life so powerfully as the personal incarnation of theseprinciples; and if the greatest means to the true life is personalassociation with the high and noble, then it need not seem strange {33}that love and admiration for the person of Christ have as a matter offact proved the mightiest of historical motives to noble living. 

However imperfectly we may know the person of Jesus, and howeverfragmentary may be the record of His teaching, one great truth loomsout of the darkness--the peerlessness of His character and theincomparableness of His ideal of life. He comes to us with a messageof Good, new to man, based on the great conviction of the Fatherhood ofGod. The all-dominating faith that a genuine seeking love is at theheart of the universe makes Jesus certain that the laws of the worldare the laws of a loving God--laws of life which must be studied, welcomed, and heartily obeyed. 

2. The Christian ideal, though given in Christ, has to be examined, analysed, and applied by the very same faculties as are employed indealing with speculative problems. All science must be furnished withfacts, and its task generally is to shape its materials to definiteends. The scientist does not invent. He does not create. He simply_discovers_ what is already there: he only moulds into form what isgiven. In like manner, the Christian moralist deals with therevelation of life which has been granted to him partly in the humanconsciousness, and partly through the sacred scriptures. Thescriptures, however, do not offer a systematic presentation of the lifeof Christ, or a formal directory of moral conduct. The data aresupplied, but these data require to be interpreted and unified so as toform a system of Ethics. The authority to which Christian Ethicsappeals is not an external oracle which imposes its dictates in amechanical way. It is an authority embodied in intelligible forms, andappealing to the rational faculties of man. Christian Ethics, thoughdeduced from scripture, is not a cut and dry code of rules prescribedby God which man must blindly obey. It has to be thought out, andintelligently applied to all the circumstances of life. According tothe Protestant view, at least, Ethics is not a stereotyped compendiumof precepts which {34} the Church supplies to its members to save themfrom thinking. Slavish imitation is wholly foreign to the genius ofthe Gospel. Christ Himself appeals everywhere to the rational natureof man, and His words are life and spirit only as they are intelligiblyapprehended and become by inner conviction the principles of action. 

Authoritative, then, as the scriptures are, and containing as they dothe revelation of an unique historical fact, they do not present aclosed or final system of truth. Christ has yet many things to sayunto us, and the Holy Spirit is continually adding new facts to humanexperience, and disclosing richer and fuller manifestations of Godthrough history and providence and the personal consciousness of man. No progress in thought or life can indeed be made which is inconsistentwith, or foreign to, the fundamental facts which centre in Christ: andwe may be justly suspicious of all advancement in doctrine or moralswhich does not flow from the initial truths of the Master's life andteaching. But, just as progress has been made, both in the increase ofmaterials of knowledge and in regard to the clearer insight andappreciation of the meaning of Christian truth, since the apostles'age, so we may hope that, as the ages go on, we shall acquire a stillfuller conception of the kingdom of God and a richer apprehension ofthe divine will. The task and method of Christian Ethics will be, consequently, the intelligent interpretation and the gradualapplication to human life and society, in all their relationships, ofthe mind of Christ under the constant illumination and guidance of theDivine Spirit. 

[1] Cf. Dorner, _System der Christl. Ethik_, p. 48. See also NewmanSmyth, _Christian Ethics_, p. 44. 

[2] Cf. Mackintosh, _Christian Ethics_, p. 11. 

[3] Cf. Lidgett, _The Christian Religion_, pp. 106, 485 ff. , where theidea of God's nature is admirably developed. 

[4] Rashdall, _The Theory of Good and Evil_, vol. Ii. P. 212. 

[5] Lidgett, _idem_. But see Bosanquet, _Principle of Indiv. AndValue_, p. 380 ff. 

[6] James i. 13, 14. 

[7] As, for example, that of Drew's _Christus Myth_. 

[8] Cf. _Gospel History and its Transmission_. 

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CHAPTER III

ETHICAL THOUGHT BEFORE CHRIST

Apart from the writings of the New Testament, which are the primarysource of Christian Ethics, a comprehensive view of our subject wouldinclude some account of the ethical conceptions of Greece, Rome andIsrael, which were at least contributory to the Christian idea of themoral life. Whatever view we take of its origin, Christianity did notcome into the world like the goddess Athene, without preparation, butwas the product of many factors. The moral problems of to-day cannotbe rightly appreciated except in the light of certain concepts whichcome to us from ancient thought; and Greco-Roman philosophy as well asHebrew religion have contributed not a little to the form and trend ofmodern ethical inquiry. 

All we can attempt is the briefest outline, first, of the successiveepochs of Greek and Roman Ethics; and second, of the leading moralideas of the Hebrews as indicating the preparatory stages in theevolution of thought which finds its completion in the Ethics ofChristianity. 

I

Before the golden age of Greek philosophy there was no Ethics in thestrictest sense. Philosophy proper occupied itself primarily withontological questions--questions as to the origin and constitution ofthe material world. It was only when mythology and religion had losttheir hold upon the cultured, and the traditions of the poets had cometo be doubted, that inquiries as to the meaning of life and conductarose. 

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The Sophists may be regarded as the pioneers of ethical science. Thisbody of professional teachers, who appeared about the fifth century inGreece, drew attention to the vagueness of common opinion and began toteach the art of conduct. Of these Protagoras is the most famous, andto him is attributed the saying, 'Man is the measure of all things. 'As applied to conduct, this dictum is commonly interpreted as meaningthat good is entirely subjective, relative to the individual. Viewedin this light the saying is one-sided and sceptical, subversive of allobjective morality. But the dictum may be regarded as expressing animportant truth, that the good is personal and must ultimately be thegood for man as man, therefore for all men. 

1. It was _Socrates_, however, who, as it was said, first calledphilosophy from heaven to the sphere of this earth, and diverted men'sminds from the consideration of natural things to the affairs of humanlife. He was indeed the first moral philosopher, inasmuch as that, while the Sophists merely talked at large about justice and virtue, heasked what these terms really meant. Living in an age when the oldguides of life--law and custom--were losing their hold upon men, he wascompelled to find a substitute for them by reflection upon the meaningand object of existence. For him the source of evil is want ofthought, and his aim is to awaken men to the realisation of what theyare, and what they must seek if they would make the best of theirlives. He is the prophet of clear self-consciousness. 'Know thyself'is his motto, and he maintains that all virtue must be founded on suchknowledge. A life without reflection upon the meaning of existence isunworthy of a man. [1] Hence the famous Socratic dictum, 'Virtue isknowledge. ' Both negatively and positively Socrates held thisprinciple to be true. For, on the one hand, he who is not conscious ofthe good and does not know in what it consists, cannot possibly pursueit. And, on the other hand, if a man is once alive to his real good, how can he do otherwise than pursue it? No one therefore does {37}wrong willingly. Let a man know what is right, and he will do it. Knowledge of virtue is not, however, distinct from self-interest. Every one naturally seeks the good simply because he sees that the goodis identical with his ultimate happiness. The wise man is the happyman. Hence to know oneself is the secret of well-being. Let each bemaster of himself, knowing what he seeks, and seeking what heknows--that, for Socrates, is the first principle of Ethics, thecondition of all moral life. This view is obviously one-sided andessentially individualistic, excluding all those forms of moralitywhich are pursued unconsciously, and are due more to the influence ofintuitive perception and social habit than to clear and definiteknowledge. The merit of Socrates, however, lies in his demand forethical reflection, and his insistence upon man not only actingrightly, but acting from the right motive. 

2. While Socrates was the first to direct attention to the nature ofvirtue, it received from _Plato_ a more systematic treatment. Platonicphilosophy may be described as an extension to the universe of theprinciples which Socrates applied to the life of the individual. Platoattempts to define the end of man by his place in the cosmos; and bybringing Ethics into connection with Metaphysics he asks What is theidea of man as a part of universal reality? Two main influencescombined to produce his conception of virtue. First, in opposition tothe Heraclitean doctrine of perpetual change, he contended forsomething real and permanent. Second, in antagonism to the Sophistictheory of the conventional origin of the moral law, he maintained thatman's chief end was the good which was fixed in the eternal nature ofthings, and did not consist in the pursuit of transient pleasures. Hence, in two respects, Plato goes beyond Socrates. He puts opinion, which is his name for ordinary consciousness, between ignorance andknowledge, ascribing to it a certain measure of truth, and making itthe starting-point for reflection. And further, he transforms theSocratic idea of morality, rejecting the notion that its principle isto be found in a mere calculation of pleasures, {38} and maintainingthat particular goods must be estimated by the good of life as a whole. Plato's philosophy rests upon his doctrine of ideas, which, as thetypes of permanent reality, represent the eternal nature of things; andthe problem of life is to rise from opinion to truth, from appearanceto reality, and attain to the ideal principle of unity. The highestgood Plato identifies with God, and man's end is ultimately to be foundin the knowledge of, and communion with, the eternal. 

The human soul he conceived to be a mixture of two elements. In virtueof its higher spiritual nature it participates in the world of ideas, the life of God: and in virtue of its lower or animal impulses, in thecorporeal world of decay. These two dissimilar parts are connected byan intermediate element called by Plato _thymos_ or courage, implyingthe emotions or affections of the heart. Hence a threefoldconstitution of the soul is conceived--the rational powers, theemotional desires, and the animal passions. If we ask who is the goodman? Plato answers, it is the man in whom these three elements areharmonised. On the basis of this psychology Plato classifies anddetermines the virtues--adopting the four cardinal virtues of Greektradition as the fundamental types of morality. Wisdom is the quality, or condition of all virtue and the crown of the moral life: courage isthe virtue of the emotional part of man; temperance or moderation, thevirtue of the lower appetites: while justice is the unity and theprinciple of the others. Virtue is thus no longer identified withknowledge simply. Another source of vice besides ignorance is assumed, viz. , the disorder and conflict of the soul; and the well-being of manlies in the attainment of a well-ordered and harmonious life. Ashealth is the harmony of the body, so virtue is the harmony of thesoul--a condition of perfection in which every desire is kept incontrol and every function performs its part with a view to the good ofthe whole. Morality, however, does not belong merely to theindividual, but has its perfect realisation in the state in which thethree elements of the soul have their {39} counterpart in the threefoldrank of society. Man is indeed but a type of a larger cosmos, and itis not as an individual but as a citizen that he finds his station andduties, and is capable of realising his true life. 

Thus we see how Plato is led to correct the shortcomings ofSocrates--his abrupt distinction between ignorance and knowledge, hisvagueness as to the meaning of the good, and his tendency to emphasisethe subjective side of virtue and withdraw the individual from thecommunity of which he is essentially a part. But in developing histheory of ideas Plato has represented the true life of man asconsisting in the knowledge of, and indeed in absorption in, God, astate to which man can only attain by the suppression of his naturalimpulses and withdrawal from earthly life: and though there is notwanting in Plato's later teaching the higher conception of thetransformation of the animal passions, he is not wholly successful inovercoming the dualism between impulse and reason which besets some ofthe earlier dialogues. 

It is a striking proof of the vitality of Plato that his teaching hasaffected every form of idealism and has helped to shape the history ofreligious thought in all ages. Not only many of the early Fathers, such as Clement and Origen, but the Neo-Platonists of Alexandria, theCambridge Platonists of the seventeenth century, and also the Germantheologians, Baur and Schleiermacher, have recognised numerouscoincidences between Christianity and Platonism: as Bishop Westcott hassaid, 'Plato points to St. John. '[2] His influence may be detected insome of the greatest Christian poetry of our own country, especially inthat of Wordsworth and Tennyson. For Plato believes, in common withthe greatest of every age, in 'that inborn passion for perfection, 'that innate though often unconscious yearning after the true, thebeautiful, the good, 'Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, '

which are the heritage of human nature. 

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3. The Ethics of _Aristotle_ does not essentially differ from that ofPlato. He is the first to treat of morals formally as a science, which, however, in his hands becomes a division of politics. Man, saysAristotle, is really a social animal. Even more decisively than Plato, therefore, he treats man as a part of society. While in Plato there isthe foreshadowing of the truth that the goal of moral endeavour lies ingodlikeness, with Aristotle the goal is confined to this life and isconceived simply as the earthly well-being of the moral subject. 'Death, ' he declares, 'is the greatest of all evils, for it is theend. ' Aristotle begins his great work on Ethics with the discussion ofthe chief good, which he declares to be happiness or well-being. Buthappiness does not consist in sensual pleasure, nor even in the pursuitof honour, but in an 'activity of the soul in accordance withreason. '[3] There are required for this life of right thinking andright doing not only suitable environment but proper instruction. Virtue is not virtuous until it is a habit, and the only way to bevirtuous is to practise virtue. To be virtuous a man's conduct must bea law for him, the regular expression of his will. Hence the virtuesare habits of deliberate choice, and not natural endowments. FollowingPlato, Aristotle sees that there is in man a number of impulsesstruggling for the mastery of the soul, hence he is led to assume thatthe natural instincts need guidance and control. Moderation istherefore the one chief virtue; and moral excellence consists in anactivity which at every point seeks to strike a 'mean' between twoopposite excesses. Virtue in general, then, may be defined as theobservation of the due mean in action. Aristotle also follows Plato inassigning the ideal good to contemplation, and in exalting the life ofreason and speculation above all others. In thus idealising thecontemplative life he was but reflecting the spirit of his race. Thisapotheosis of knowledge infected all Greek thought, and foundexaggerated expression in the religious absorption of Neo-Platonism. 

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Without dwelling further upon the ethical philosophy of Aristotle, adefect which at once strikes a modern in regard to his scheme ofvirtues is that benevolence is not recognised, except obscurely as aform of magnanimity; and that, in general, the gentler virtues, soprominent in Christianity, have little place in the list. The virtuesare chiefly aristocratic. Favourable conditions are needed for theircultivation. They are not possible for a slave, and hardly for thoseengaged in 'mercenary occupations. '[4] Further, it may be remarkedthat habit of itself does not make a man virtuous. Morality cannotconsist in a mere succession of customary acts. 'One good custom wouldcorrupt the world, ' and habit is frequently a hindrance rather than ahelp to the moral life. But the main defect of Aristotle's treatmentof virtue is that he tends to regard the passions as irrational, and hedoes not see that passions if wholly evil could have no 'mean. ' Reasonpervades all the lower appetites of man: and the instincts and desires, instead of being treated as elements which must be suppressed, ought tobe regarded rather as powers to be transformed and employed as vehiclesof the moral life. At the same time there are not wanting passages inAristotle as well as in Plato which, instead of emphasising theavoidance of excess, regard virtue as consisting in complementaryelements--the addition of one virtuous characteristic to another--'thatbalance of contrasted qualities which meets us at every turn in thedistinguished personalities of the Hellenic race, and which is toooften thought of in a merely negative way, as the avoidance of excessrather than as the highest outcome of an intense and many-sidedvitality. '[5]

4. After Aristotle philosophy rapidly declined, and Ethics degeneratedinto popular moralising which manifested itself chiefly in a growingdepreciation of good as the end {42} of life. The conflicting elementsof reason and impulse, which neither Plato nor Aristotle succeeded inharmonising, gave rise ultimately to two opposite interpretations ofthe moral life. The _Stoics_ selected the rational nature as the trueguide to an ethical system, but they gave to it a supremacy so rigid asto threaten the extinction of the affections. The _Epicureans_, on theother hand, fastening upon the emotions as the measure of truth, emphasised the happiness of the individual as the chief good--adoctrine which led some of the followers of Epicurus to justify evensensual enjoyment. It is not necessary to dwell upon the details ofEpicureanism, for though its description of the 'wise man, ' as that ofa person who prudently steered a middle course between passion andasceticism, was one which exercised considerable influence upon themorals of the age, it is the doctrines of Stoicism which moreespecially have come into contact with Christianity. Withoutdiscussing the Stoic conception of the world as interpenetrated andcontrolled by an inherent spirit, and the consequent view of life asproceeding from God and being in all its parts equally divine, we maynote that the Stoics, under the influence of Platonism, regardedself-realisation as the true end of man. This idea they expressed inthe formula, 'Life according to nature. ' The wise man is he who seeksto live in all the circumstances of life in agreement with his rationalnature. The law of nature is to avoid what is hurtful and strive forwhat is appropriate. Pleasure, though not the immediate object of man, arises as an accompaniment of a well-ordered life. Pleasure and painare, however, really accidents, to be met by the wise man withindifference. He alone is free who acknowledges the absolute supremacyof reason and makes himself independent of earthly desires. This lifeof freedom is open to all: since all men are members of one body. Theslave may be as free as the consul, and in every station of life eachmay make the world serve him by living in harmony with it. 

There is a certain sublimity in the ethics of Stoicism which has alwaysappealed to noble minds. 'It inspired, ' {43} says Mr. Lecky, 'nearlyall the great characters of the early Roman Empire, and nerved everyattempt to maintain the dignity and freedom of the human soul. '[6] Butwe cannot close our eyes to its defects. Divine providence, thoughfrequently dwelt upon, signified little more for the Stoic than destinyor fate. Harmony with nature was simply a sense of proudself-sufficiency. Stoicism is the glorification of reason, even to theextent of suppressing all emotion. Sin is unreason, and salvation liesin an external control of the passions--in indifference and apathybegotten of the subordination of desire to reason. 

The chief merit of Stoicism is that in an age of moral degeneracy itinsisted upon the necessity of integrity in all the conditions of life. In its preference for the joys of the inner life and its scorn of thedelights of sense; in its emphasis upon individual responsibility andduty; above all, in its advocacy of a common humanity and its belief inthe relation of each human soul to God, Roman Stoicism, as revealed inthe writings of a Seneca, an Epictetus, and a Marcus Aurelius, not onlyshowed how high Paganism at its best could reach, but proved in ameasure a preparation for Christianity, with whose practical truths ithad much in common. 

The affinities between Stoicism and Paulinism have been frequentlypointed out, and the similarity in language and thought can scarcely beaccounted for by coincidence. There are, however, elements in Stoicismwhich St. Paul would never have dreamt of assimilating. The materialconception of the world, the self-conscious pride, the absence of allsense of sin, the temper of apathy, and unnatural suppression offeelings were ideas which could not but rouse the apostle's strongestantagonism. But, on the other hand, there were characteristics of anobler order in Stoic morality which, we may well believe, Paul foundready to his hand and did not hesitate to incorporate in his teaching. Of these we may mention, the Immanence of God, the idea of Wisdom, theconception of freedom as {44} the prerogative of the individual, andthe notion of brotherhood as the goal of humanity. [7]

The Roman Stoics, notwithstanding their theoretic interest in moralquestions, lived in an ideal world, and hardly attempted to bring theirviews into connection with the facts of life. Their philosophy was arefuge from the evil around them rather than an effort to remove it. They seek to overcome the world by being indifferent to it. InNeo-Platonism--the last of the Greek schools of philosophy--thistendency to withdraw from life and its problems becomes still moremarked. Absorption in God is the goal of existence and the essence ofreligion. 'Man is left alone with God without any world to mediatebetween them, and in the ecstatic vision of the Absolute the light ofreason is extinguished. '[8]

Meagre as our sketch of ancient thought has necessarily been, it isperhaps enough to show that the debt of religion to Greek and RomanEthics is incalculable. It lifted man above vague wonder, and gave himcourage to define his relation to existence. It caused him to askquestions of experience, and awakened him to the value of life and themeaning of freedom, duty, and good. Finally, it brought into viewthose contrasted aims of life and society which find their solution inthe Christian ideal. [9]

II

Christianity stands in the closest relation with _Hebrew religion_. Much as the philosophy of Greece and Rome have contributed toChristendom, there is no such intimate relation between them as thatwhich connects Christian Ethics with the morality of Israel. ChristHimself, and still more the Apostle Paul, assumed as a substratum of{45} their teaching the revelation which had been granted to the Jews. The moral and religious doctrines comprehended under the designation ofthe 'law' served, as the apostle said, as a _paidagogos_ or usher whosefunction it was to lead them to the school of Christ. 

At the outset we are impressed by the fact that the Ethics of Judaeismwas inseparable from its religion. Moral obligations were conceived asdivine commands, and the moral law as a revelation of the divine will. At first Jehovah was simply a tribal deity, but gradually thisrestricted view gave place to the wider conception of God as thesovereign of all men. The divine commandment is the criterion andmeasure of man's obedience. Evil, while it has its source and head ina hostile but subsidiary power, consists in violation of Jehovah's will. 

There are three main channels of Hebrew revelation, commonly known asthe _Law_, the _Prophecy_, and _Poetry_ of Old Testament. 

1. LAW

(1) _The Mosaic Legislation_ centering in the Decalogue[10] is thefirst stage of Old Testament Ethic. The ten commandments, whetherderived from Mosaic enactment or representing a later summary of duty, hold a supreme and formative place in the teaching of the OldTestament. All, not even excepting the fourth, are purely moralrequirements. They are, however, largely negative; the fifthcommandment only rising to positive duty. They are also merelyexternal, regulative of outward conduct. The sixth and seventh protectthe rights of persons, while the eighth guards outward property. Though these laws may be shown to have their roots in the moralconsciousness of mankind, they were at first restricted by Israel intheir scope and practice to its own tribes. 

(2) _The Civil laws_ present a second factor in the ethical educationof Israel. The 'Book of the Covenant'[11] reveals a certainadvancement in political legislation. Still the {46} hard and legalenactments of retaliation--'An eye for an eye and a tooth for atooth'--disclose a barbarous conception of right. Alongside of theseprimitive laws must be set those of a more humane nature--laws withregard to release, the permission of gleaning, the privileges of theyear of jubilee. 

(3) _The Ceremonial laws_ embody a third element in the moral life ofIsrael. These had to do chiefly with commands and prohibitionsrelative to personal conduct--'Meats and drinks and diverse washings';and with sacrifices and forms of ritual worship. [12]

With regard to the moral value of the commandments two opposite errorsare to be avoided. We must not refuse to recognise in the OldTestament the record of a true, if elementary and imperfect, revelationof God. But also we must beware of exalting the commandments of theOld Dispensation to the level of those of the New; and thusmisunderstanding the nature and relation of both. 

The Christian faith is in a sense the development of Judaeism, thoughit is infinitely more. The commandments of Moses, in so far as theyhave their roots in the constitution of man, have not been superseded, but taken up and spiritualised by the Ethic of the Gospel. 

2. PROPHECY

The dominant factor of Old Testament Ethics lay in the influenceexerted by the prophets. They, and not the priests, are the greatmoralists of Israel. The prophets were speakers for God, theinterpreters of His will. They were the moral guides of the people, the champions of integrity in political life, not less than witnessesfor individual purity. [13]

We may sum up the ethical significance of the Hebrew prophets in threefeatures. 

(1) They were preachers of _personal righteousness_. In {47} times offalsehood and hypocrisy they were witnesses for integrity and truth, upholding the personal virtues of justice, sincerity, and mercy againstthe idolatry and formalism of the priesthood. 'What doth the Lordrequire of thee, ' said Micah, 'but to do justly, to love mercy, and towalk humbly with thy God. '[14] In the same strain Isaiah exclaimed, 'Bring no more vain oblations, but wash you and make you clean. '[15]And so also Habakkuk has affirmed in words which became the keynote ofPaul's theology and the watchword of the Reformation--'The just shalllive by faith. '[16]

(2) They were the advocates of the _rights of man_, of equity andjustice between man and man. They denounce the tyranny of kings, andthe luxury of the nobles. They protest against the oppression of thepoor and befriend the toilers of the cities. They proclaim the worthof man as man. They reveal Jehovah as the God of the common people, and seek to mitigate the burdens which lie upon the enslaved anddown-trodden. 

(3) They were the apostles of _Hope_. Not only did they seek to lifttheir fellow-men above their present calamities, but they proclaimed amessage of peace and triumph which was to be evolved out of trouble. Agreat promise gradually loomed on the horizon, and hope began to centrein an anointed Deliverer. The Hebrew prophets were not probablyconscious of the full significance of their own predictions. Like alltrue poets, they uttered greater things than they knew. The prophetwho most clearly outlines this truth is the second Isaiah. As he looksdown the ages he sees that healing is to be brought about throughsuffering, the suffering of a Sinless one. Upon this mysterious figurewho is to rise up in the latter days is to be laid the burden ofhumanity. No other, not even St. Paul himself, has grasped so clearlythe great secret of atonement or given so touching a picture of thepower of vicarious suffering as this unknown prophet of Israel. 

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3. THE POETICAL BOOKS

Passing from the prophets to the poets of Israel--and especially to thebook of Psalms--the devotional manual of the people, reflecting themoral and religious life of the nation at the various stages of itsdevelopment--we find the same exalted character of God as a God ofRighteousness, hating evil and jealous for devotion, the same profoundsense of sin and the same high vocation of man. The Hebrew nation wasessentially a poetic people, [17] and their literature is full ofpoetry. But poetry is not systematic. It is not safe, therefore, todeduce particular tenets of faith or moral principles from passageswhich glow with intensity of feeling. But if a nation's character isrevealed in its songs, the deep spirituality and high moral tone ofIsrael are clearly reflected in that body of religious poetry whichextends over a period of a thousand years, from David to the Maccabeanage. It is at once national and personal, and is a wonderful record ofthe human heart in its various moods and yearnings. Underlying alltrue poetry there is a philosophy of life. God, for the Hebrewpsalmist, is the one pervading presence. He is not a mereimpersonation of the powers of nature, but a personal Being, righteousand merciful, with whom man stands in the closest relations. Holy andawful, indeed, hating iniquity and exacting punishment upon the wicked, He is also tender and pitiful--a Father of the oppressed, who bearstheir burdens, forgives their iniquities, and crowns them with tendermercy. [18] All nature speaks to the Hebrew of God. He is no far-offcreator, but immanent in all His works. [19] He presides over mankind, and provides for the manifold wants of his creatures. It is thisthought which gives unity to the nation, and binds the tribes into acommon brotherhood. God is their personal friend. In war and peace, in worship and labour, at home and in exile, it is to Jehovah they look{49} for strength and light and joy. He is their Shepherd andRedeemer, under whose wings they trust. Corresponding to this sublimefaith, the virtues of obedience and fidelity are dwelt upon, while theideal of personal righteousness and purity is constantly held forth. It is no doubt largely temporal blessings which the psalmistsemphasise, and the rewards of integrity are chiefly those of materialand earthly prosperity. The hope of the future life is nowhere clearlyexpressed in the Old Testament, and while in the Psalter here and therea dim yearning for a future with God breaks forth, hardly any of thesepoems illumine the destiny of man beyond the grave. The hope of Israelwas limited mostly to this earth. The land beyond the shadows does notcome within their purview. Like a child, the psalmist is content toknow that his divine Father is near him here and now. When exactly thelarger hope emerged we cannot say. But gradually, with the breaking upof the national life and under the pressure of suffering, a clearervision dawned. With the limitations named, it is a sublime outlookupon life and a high-toned morality which the Psalter discloses. Poetry, indeed, idealises, and no doubt the Israelites did not alwayslive up to their aspirations; but men who could give utterance to afaith so clear, to a penitence so deep, and to longings so lofty andspiritual as these Psalms contain are not the least among the heraldsof the kingdom of Christ. 

We cannot enlarge upon the ethical ideas of the other writings of theOld Testament, the books of Wisdom, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Job. Their teaching, while not particularly lofty, is generally healthy andpractical, consisting of homely commonplaces and shrewd observationsupon life and conduct. The motives appealed to are not always thehighest, and frequently have regard only to earthly prosperity andworldly policy. It must not, however, be overlooked that moralpractice is usually allied with the fear of God, and the right choiceof wisdom is represented as the dictate of piety not less than thesanction of prudence. The writers of the Wisdom literature are the{50} humanists of their age. As distinguished from the idealism of theprophets, they are realists who look at life in a somewhat utilitarianway. With the prophets, however, they are at one in regarding theinferiority of ceremonial to obedience and sincerity. God is the rulerof the world, and man's task is to live in obedience to Him. What Godrequires is correct outward behaviour, self-restraint, andconsideration of others. 

In estimating the Ethics of Israel the fact that it was a preparatorystage in the revelation of God's will must not be overlooked. We arenot surprised, therefore, that, judged by the absolute standard of theNew Testament, the morality of the Old Testament must be pronouncedimperfect. In two respects at least, in intent and extent, it isdeficient. 

(1) It is lacking in _Depth_. There is a tendency to dwell upon thesufficiency of external acts rather than the necessity of inwarddisposition. At the same time, in the Psalter and prophecy inwardpurity is recognised. [20] Further, the character of Jehovah issometimes presented in a repellent aspect; as in the threatenings ofthe second commandment; the treatment of the children of Achan and theSons of Korah; the seeming injustice of God, implied in the complaintof Moses, and the protests of Abraham and David. But again there arenot wanting more kindly features of the Divine Being; and theFatherhood of God finds frequent expression. Though the penal code issevere, a gentler spirit shines through many of its provisions, andprotection is afforded to the wage-earner, the dependent, and the poor;while the care of slaves, foreigners, and even lower animals is notoverlooked. [21] Again, it has been noticed that the motives to whichthe Old Testament appeals are often mercenary. Material prosperityplays an important part as an inducement to well-doing. The good whichthe pious patriarch or royal potentate contemplates is something whichis calculated to enrich himself or advance his people. But here wemust not forget that {51} God's revelation is progressive, and Hisdealing with man educative. There is naturally a certain accommodationof the divine law to the various stages of the moral apprehension ofthe Jewish people. Gradually the nation is being carried forward bythe promise of material benefits to the deeper and more inwardappreciation of spiritual blessings. 

(2) It is lacking in _Scope_. In regard to universality the Hebrewideal, it must be acknowledged, is deficient. God is usuallyrepresented as the God of Israel alone, and not as the God of all men, and the obligations of veracity, honesty, and mercy are confined withinthe limits of the nation. It is true that a prominent commandmentgiven to Israel and endorsed by our Lord runs thus: 'Thou shalt lovethy neighbour as thyself. '[22] But the extent of the obligation seemsto be restricted by the context: 'Thou shalt not avenge nor bear anygrudge against the children of thy people. ' It is contended that theword translated 'neighbour' bears a wider import than the English term, and is really applicable to any person. The larger idea is expressedin vv. 33, 34, where the word 'stranger' or 'foreigner' is substitutedfor neighbour. And there are passages in which the stranger isregarded as the special client of God, and is enjoined to look to Himfor protection. 

The Jews were not in practice, however, faithful to the humanitarianismof their law, and, in keeping with other nations, showed a tendency torestrict divine favours within the limits of their own land, and tomaintain throughout their history an attitude of aloofness andrepellent isolation which even amounted to intolerance towards otherraces. In early days, however, the obligation of hospitality wasregarded as sacred. [23] Nor must we forget that, whatever may havebeen the Jewish practice, the promise enshrined in their revelationinvolves the unity of mankind; while several of the prophecies andPsalms look forward to a world-wide blessing. [24] In Isaiah we evenread, 'God of the whole earth shall He be called. '[25]

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The stream of preparation for Christianity thus flowed steadily throughthree channels, the Greek, the Roman, and the Jew. Each contributedsomething to the fullness of the time. 

The problem of Greek civilisation was the problem of _freedom_, therealisation of self-dependence and self-determination. In the pursuitof these ends Greece garnered conclusions which are the undyingpossessions of the world. If to the graces of self-abasement, meeknessand charity it remained a stranger, it gave a new worth to theindividual, and showed that without the virtues of wisdom, courage, steadfastness and justice man could not attain to moral character. 

The Roman's gift was unbending devotion to _duty_. With a genius forrule he forced men into one polity; and by levelling material barriershe enabled the nations to commune, and made a highway for the messageof freedom and brotherhood. But, intoxicated with material glory, hebecame blind to spiritual good, and in his universal toleration heemptied all faiths of their content, driving the masses tosuperstition, and the few who yearned for a higher life to withdrawalfrom the world. 

The Jewish contribution was _righteousness_. Not speciallydistinguished by intellectual powers, nor gifted in politicalenterprise, his endowment was spiritual insight, and by his dispersionthroughout the world he made others the sharers of his inheritance. But his tendency was to keep his privilege to himself, or so to load itwith legal restrictions as to bar its acceptance for strangers; and inhis pride of isolation he failed to recognise his Deliverer when Hecame. 

Thus, negatively and positively, by failure and by partial attainment, the world was prepared for Him who was the desire of all nations. InChrist were gathered up the wisdom of the Greek, the courage of theRoman, the righteousness of the Jew; and He who came not to destroy butto fulfil at once interpreted and satisfied the longings of the ages. 

[1] _Apologia_, pp. 38-9. 

[2] Cf. Adam, _Vitality of Platonism_, p. 3. 

[3] _Nic. Ethics_, bk. I. Chap. 5. 

[4] _histharnikai ergasiai_, Arist. , _Politics_, iii. 'There isnothing common between a master and his slave, ' _Nic. Ethics_, viii. 

[5] Butcher, _Harvard Lectures on Greek Subjects_, quoted by Barbour, _Philos. Study of Christian Ethics_, p. 11. Cf. Also Burnet, _Ethicsof Aristotle_, p. 73. 'The "mean" is really the true nature of thesoul when fully developed. '

[6] _Hist. Of Europ. Morals_, vol. I. Chap. Ii. 

[7] See Author's _Ethics of St. Paul_ for further discussion ofrelation of Paul to Stoics. 

[8] Cf. E. Caird, _Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philosophers_, vol. I. P. 48. 

[9] Cf. Caird, idem. Pfleiderer, _Vorbereitung des Christentums in derGriech. Philos. _; Wenley, _Preparation for Christianity_. 

[10] Exod. Xx. ; Deut. V. 

[11] Ex. Xx. -xxiii. 

[12] Amos v. 25; Hos. Vi. 6; Isa. I. 11-13. 

[13] Cf. Wallace, _Lectures and Essays on Natural Theol. And Ethics_, p. 183. 

[14] Micah vi. 8. 

[15] Isa. I. 13-17; Micah vi. 7. 

[16] Hab. Ii. 4; cf. Rom. I. 17; Gal. Iii. 2. 

[17] Though Houston Chamberlain, in his recent work, _The Foundationsof the Nineteenth Century_, maintains that they were 'a most prosaic, materialistic people, without any real sense of poetry. '

[18] Ps. 51. 

[19] Ps. 19. 

[20] Ps. 51; Isa. 1. 

[21] Deut. Xxiv. 14, 15; Jer. Xxii. 13-17; Matt. Iii 5; Deut. Xxv. 4. 

[22] Lev. Xix. 18. 

[23] Gen. Xviii. Xix. 

[24] Isa. Lxi. ; Ps. Xxii. 27; xlviii. 2-10; lxxxvii. 

[25] Isa. Liv. 5. 

{53}

SECTION B

PERSONALITY

{55}

CHAPTER IV

THE ESTIMATE OF MAN

Having thus far laid the foundations of our study by a discussion of itspresuppositions and sources, we are now prepared to consider man as thepersonal subject of the new life. The spirit of God which takes hold ofman and renews his life must not be conceived as a foreign power breakingthe continuity of consciousness. The natural is the basis of thesupernatural. It is not a new personality which is created; it is theold that is transformed and completed. If there was not already implicitin man that which predisposed him for the higher life, a consciousness towhich the spirit could appeal, then Christianity would be simply amechanical or magical influence without ethical significance and havingno relation to the past history of the individual. But that is not theteaching of our Lord or of His apostles. We are bound, therefore, toassume a certain substratum of powers, physical, mental and moral, asconstituting the raw material of which the new personality is formed. The spirit of God does not quench the natural faculties of man, but worksthrough and upon them, raising them to a higher value. [1]

I. But before proceeding to a consideration of these elements of humanconsciousness to which Christianity appeals, we must glance at twoopposite theories of human nature, either of which, if the complete viewof man, would be inimical to Christianity. [2]

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1. The first view is that man _by nature is morally good_. His naturalimpulses are from birth wholly virtuous, and require only to be left totheir own operation to issue in a life of perfection. Those who favourthis contention claim the support of Scripture. Not only does the wholetone of the Bible imply the inherent goodness of primitive man, but manytexts both in the Old and New Testaments suggest that God made manupright. [3] Among the Greeks, and especially the Stoics, this viewprevailed. All nature was regarded as the creation of perfect reason, and the primitive state as one of uncorrupted innocence. Pelagiusespoused this doctrine, and it continued to influence dogmatic theologynot only in the form of Semi-Pelagianism, but even as modifying theseverer tenets of Augustine. The theory received fresh importance duringthe revolutionary movement of the eighteenth century, and found a strongexponent in Rousseau. 'Let us sweep away all conventions andinstitutions of man's making and get back to the simplicity of aprimitive age. ' The man of nature is guileless, and his naturalinstincts would preserve him in uncorrupted purity if they were notperverted by the artificial usages of society. So profoundly did thistheory dominate the thoughts of men that its influence may be detectednot only in the political fanaticism which found expression in the FrenchRevolution, but also in the practical views of the Protestant Churchacting as a deterrent to missionary effort. [4] This view of humannature, though not perhaps formally stated, finds expression in much ofthe literature of the present day. Professor James cites Theodore Parkerand other leaders of the liberal movement in New England of last centuryas representatives of the tendency. [5] These writers do not whollyignore moral effect, but they make light of sin, and regard it not assomething positive, but merely as a stage in the development of man. 

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2. The other theory of human nature goes to the opposite extreme. Manby nature is _utterly depraved_, and his natural instincts are whollybad. Those who take this view also appeal to Scripture: 'Man is shapenin iniquity and conceived in sin. ' Many passages in the New Testament, and especially in the writings of St. Paul, seem to emphasise the utterdegradation of man. It was not, however, until the time of Augustinethat this idea of innate depravity was formulated into a doctrine. TheAugustinean dogma has coloured all later theology. In the Roman CatholicChurch, even in such a writer as Pascal, and in Protestantism, under theinfluence of Calvin, the complete corruption of man's nature has beendepicted in the blackest hues. 

These theories of human nature represent aspects of truth, and are falseonly in their isolation. 

The doctrine that man is innocent by nature is not in agreement withhistory. Nowhere is the noble savage to be found. The primitive manexhibits the same tendencies as his more civilised neighbour, and hisanimal passions are indulged without control of reason or considerationfor others. Indeed, Hobbes's view of early society as a state of war andrapacity is much truer to fact than Rousseau's. The noble savage issimply a fiction of the imagination, an abstraction obtained bywithdrawing him from all social environment. But even could we conceiveof a human being kept from infancy in isolation, he would not fulfil thetrue idea of virtue, but would simply develop into a negative creature, amutilated being bereft of all that constitutes our notion of humanity. Such experiences as are possible only in society--all forms of goodnessas suggested by such words as 'love, ' 'sympathy, ' 'service'--would neveremerge at all. The native instincts of man are simply potencies orcapacities for morality; they must have a life of opportunity for theirevolution and exercise. The abstract self prior to and apart from allobjective experience is an illusion. It is only in relation to a worldof moral beings that the moral life becomes possible for man. Theinnocence which the advocates of this theory contend for is {58}something not unlike the non-rational existence of the animal. It istrue that the brute is not immoral, but neither is it moral. The wholesignificance of the passions as they exist in man lies in the fact thatthey are not purely animal, but, since they belong to man, are alwaysimpregnated with reason. It is reason that gives to them their moralworth, and it is because man must always put his self into every desireor impulse that it becomes the instrument either of virtue or of vice. [6]

But if the theory of primitive purity is untenable, not less so is thatof innate depravity. Here, also, its advocates are not consistent withthemselves. Even the systems of theology derived from Augustine do notcontend that man was created with an evil propensity. His sin was theresult of an historical catastrophe. In his paradisiacal condition manis conceived as possessing a nobility and innocence of nature far beyondthat even which Rousseau depicted. Milton, in spite of his Calvinisticpuritanism, has painted a picture of man's ideal innocence which foridyllic charm is unequalled in literature. [7] Nor does historicalinquiry bear out the theory of the utter depravity of man. The latestanthropological research into the condition of primitive man suggestsrather that even the lowest forms of savage life are not without some dimconsciousness of a higher power and some latent capacity for good. [8]Finally, these writers are not more successful when they claim thesupport of the Bible. Not only are there many examples of virtue inpatriarchal times, but, as we have seen, there are not a few texts whichimply the natural goodness of man. Our Lord repeatedly assumes theaffinity with goodness of those who had not hitherto come into contactwith the Gospel, as in the case of Jairus, the rich young ruler, and theSyrophenician woman. It has been affirmed by Wernle[9] that the ApostlePaul in the interests of salvation grossly {59} exaggerates the conditionof the natural man. 'He violently extinguished every other light in theworld so that Jesus might shine in it alone. ' But this surely is amisstatement. It is true that no more scathing denunciation of sinfulhuman nature has ever been presented than the account of heathenimmorality to be found in the first chapter of Romans. Yet the apostledoes not actually affirm, nor even imply, that pagan society was soutterly corrupt that it had lost all knowledge of moral good. Though sobad as to be beyond hope of recovery by natural effort, it was not so badas to have quenched in utter darkness the light which lighteth every man. 

3. Christianity, while acknowledging the partial truth of both of thesetheories, reconciles them. If, on the one hand, man were innately goodand could of himself attain to righteousness, there would be no need of agospel of renewal. But history and experience alike show that that isnot the case. If, on the other hand, man were wholly bad, had nosusceptibility for virtue and truth, then there would be nothing in him, as we have seen, which could respond to the Christian appeal. [10]Christianity alone offers an answer to the question in which Pascalpresents the great antithesis of human nature: 'If man was not made forGod, how is it that he can be happy only in God? And if he is made forGod, how is he so opposite to God?'[11] However, then, we may accountfor the presence of evil in human nature, a true view of Christianityinvolves the conception of a latent spiritual element in man, a capacityfor goodness to which his whole being points. Matter itself may be saidnot merely to exist for spirit, but to have within it already the potencyof the higher forms of life; and just as nature is making towardshumanity, and in humanity at last finds itself; as

 'Striving to be man, the worm Mounts through all the spires of form, '[13]

{60} so man, even in his most primitive state, has within him the promiseof higher things. No theory of his origin can interfere with theassumption that he belongs to a moral Sphere, and is capable of a lifewhich is shaping itself to spiritual ends. Whatever be man's pasthistory and evolution, he has from the beginning been made in God'simage, and bears the divine impress in all the lineaments of body andsoul. His degradation cannot wholly obliterate his inherent nobility, and indeed his actual corruption bears witness to his possible holiness. Granting the hypothesis of evolution, matter even in its crudestbeginnings contains potentially all the rich variety of the natural andspiritual life. The reality of a growing thing lies in its highest formof being. In the light of the last we explain the first. If theuniverse is, as science pronounces, an organic totality which is everconverting its promise into actuality, then 'the ultimate interpretationeven of the lowest existence of the world, cannot be given except onprinciples which are adequate to explain the highest. '[13] Christianmorality is therefore nothing else than the morality prepared from alleternity, and is but the highest realisation of that which man even athis lowest has ever been, though unconsciously, striving after. All thatis best and highest in man, all that he is capable of yet becoming, hasreally existed within him from the very first, just as the flower andleaf and fruit are contained implicitly in the seedling. This is thePauline view of human nature. Jesus Christ, according to the apostle, isthe End and Consummation of the whole creation. Everywhere in all menthere is a capacity for Christ. Whatever be his origin, man comes uponthe stage of being bearing within him a great and far-reaching destiny. There is in him, as Browning says, 'a tendency to God. ' He is not simplywhat he is now, but all that he is yet to be. 

II. Assuming, then, the inherent spirituality of man, we may now proceedto examine his moral consciousness with a view to seeing how its variousconstituents form what we have called the substratum of the Christianlife. 

{61}

1. We must guard against seeming to adopt the old and discreditedpsychology which divides man into a number of separate and independentfaculties. Man is not made like a machine, of a number of adjustedparts. _He is a unity_, a living organism, in which every part hassomething of all the others; and all together, animated by one spirit, constitute a Living whole which we call personality. While the Bible isrich in terms denoting the different constituents of man, neither the OldTestament nor the New regards human nature as a plurality of powers. Abind of unity or hierarchy of the natural faculties is assumed, and amidall the difference of function and variety of operation it is undeniablethat the New Testament writers generally, and particularly St. Paul, presuppose a unity of consciousness--a single ego, or Soul. It isunnecessary to discuss the question, much debated by Biblicalpsychologists, as to whether the apostle recognises a threefold or atwofold division of man. [14] Our view is that he recognised only atwofold division, body and soul, which, however, he always regarded asconstituting a unity, the body itself being psychical or interpenetratedwith spirit, and the spirit always acting upon and working through thephysical powers. 

Man is a unique phenomenon in the world. Even on his physical side he isnot a piece of dead matter, but is instinct through and through withspirit. And on his psychical side he is not an unsubstantial wraith, buta being inconceivable apart from outward embodiment. Perhaps the mostgeneral term which we may adopt is _psyche_ or Soul--the living self orvital and animating principle which is at once the seat of all bodilysensation and the source of the higher cognitive faculties. 

2. The fact of ethical interest from which we must proceed is that man, in virtue of his spiritual nature, is _akin to God_, and participates inthe three great elements of the divine Personality--thought, love andwill. [15] Personality has been called 'the culminating fact of the {62}universe. ' And it is the task of man to realise his true personality--tofulfil the law of his highest self. In this work he has to harmonise andbring to the unity of his personal life, by means of one dominatingforce, the various elements of his nature--his sensuous, emotional, andrational powers. By the constitution of his being he belongs to a largerworld, and when he is true to himself he is ever reaching out towards it. From the very beginning of life, and even in the lowest phases of hisnature he has within him the potency of the divine. He carries theinfinite in his soul, and by reason of his very existence shares the lifeof God. The value of his soul in this sense is repeatedly emphasised inscripture. In our Lord's teaching it is perhaps the most distinctivenote. The soul, or self-conscious spiritual ego, is spoken of as capableof being 'acquired' or 'lost. '[16] It is acquired or possessed when aman seeks to regain the image in which he was created. It is lost whenhe refuses to respond to those spiritual influences by which Christbesets him, and by means of which the soul is moulded into the likenessof God. 

3. A full presentation of this subject would involve a reference even tothe physical powers which form an integral part of man and witness to hiseternal destiny. 

(1) The very body is to be redeemed and sanctified, and made aninstrument of the new life in Christ. The extremes of asceticism andself-indulgence, both of which found advocates in Greek philosophy andeven in the early Church, have no countenance in scripture. Evil doesnot reside in the flesh, as the Greeks held, but in the will which usesthe flesh for its base ends. Not mutilation but transformation, notsuppression but consecration is the Christian ideal. The natural is thebasis of the spiritual. Man is the Temple of God, every part of which issacred. Christ claims to be King of the body as of every other domain oflife. The secret of spiritual progress does not consist in theunflinching destruction of the flesh, but in its firm but kindlydiscipline for loyal service. It is not, therefore, by {63} leaving thebody behind but by taking it up into our higher self that we becomespiritual. As Browning says, 'Let us cry all good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more now Than flesh helps soul. '

Without dwelling further upon the physical elements of man, there arethree constituents or functions of personality prominent in the NewTestament which claim our consideration, reason, conscience and will. Itis just because man possesses, or _is_ mind, conscience and will, that heis capable of responding to the life which Christ offers, and of sharingin the divine character which he reveals. 

(2) The term _nous_, or reason, is of frequent occurrence in the NewTestament. Christianity highly honours the intellectual powers of manand accords to the mind an important rôle in apprehending and enteringinto the thoughts and purposes of God. 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy Godwith all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind, ' saysJesus. Many are disposed to think that the exercise of faith, theimmediate organ of spiritual apprehension, is checked by the interferenceof reason. But so far from faith and reason being opposed, not only arethey necessary to each other, but in all real faith there is an elementof reason. In all religious feeling, as in morality, art, and otherspheres of human activity, there is the underlying element of reasonwhich is the characteristic of all the activities of a self-consciousintelligence. To endeavour to elicit that element, to infuse into thespontaneous and unsifted conceptions of religious experience theobjective clearness, necessity and organic unity of thought--is thelegitimate aim of science, in religion as in other spheres. It would bestrange if in the highest of all provinces of human experienceintelligence must renounce her claim. [17] The Ritschlian value-judgmenttheory in its disparagement of philosophy is practically a dethronementof reason. And the protest of Pragmatism and the voluntarists {64}generally against what they term 'Intellectualism'[18] and their distrustof the logical faculty, are virtually an avowal of despair and a resortto agnosticism, if not to scepticism. If we are to renounce the questfor objective truth, and accept 'those ideas only which we canassimilate, validate, corroborate, '[19] those ideas in short which are'practically useful in guiding us to desirable issues, ' then it wouldseem we are committed to a world of subjective caprice and confusion andmust give up the belief in a rational view of the universe. 

(3) In spite of the wonderful suggestiveness of M. Bergson's philosophy, we are unable to accept the distinction which that writer draws betweenintuition and intelligence, in which he seems to imply that intuition isthe higher of the two activities. Intelligence, according to thiswriter, is at home exclusively in spatial considerations, in solids, ingeometry, but it is to be repelled as a foreign element when it comes todeal with life. Bergson would exclude rational thought and intelligencefrom life, creation, and initiative. The clearest evidence of intuitionis in the works of great artists. 'What is implied is that in artisticcreation, in the work of genius and imagination, we have pure noveltyissuing from no premeditated or rational idea, but simply pureirrationality and unaccountableness. '[20] The work of art cannot bepredicated; it is beyond reason, as life is beyond logic and law. [21]But so far from finding life unintelligible, it would be nearer the truthto say that man's reason can, strictly speaking, understand nothingelse. [22] 'Instinct finds, ' says Bergson, 'but does not search. Reasonsearches but cannot find. '[23] 'But, ' adds Professor Dewey, 'what wefind is meaningless save as measured by searching, and so instincts andpassions must be elevated into reason. '[24] In the lower creaturesinstinct does the {65} work of reason--sufficiently for the simpleconditions in which the animal lives. And in the earlier stages of humanlife instinct plays an important part. But when man, both as anindividual and as humanity, advances to a more complex life, instinct isunequal to the new task confronting him. We cannot be content to beguided by instinct. Reason asserts itself and seeks to permeate all ourexperiences, and give unity and purpose to all our thoughts and acts. 

The recent disparagement of intellectualism is probably a reactionagainst the extreme absolutism of German idealism which, beginning withKant, found fullest expression in Fichte, Schelling and Hegel. But thetrue way to meet exclusive rationalism is not to discredit the functionof mind, but to give to it a larger domain of experience. We do notexalt faith by emptying it of all intellectual content and reducing it tomere subjective feeling; nor do we explain genius by ascribing its actsto blind, unthinking impulse. 'The real is the rational, ' says Hegel. Truth, in other words, presupposes a rational universe which we, asrational beings, must assume in all our thought and effort. To set upfaith against reason, or intuition against intelligence is to set themind against itself. We cannot set up an order of facts, as ProfessorJames would have us do, outside the intellectual realm; for what does notfall within our experience can have for us no meaning, and what for ushas no meaning cannot be an object of faith. An ineradicable belief inthe rationality of the world is the ultimate basis of all art, moralityand religion. To rest in mere intuition or emotion and not to seekobjective truth would be for man to renounce his true prerogative and toopen the door for all kinds of superstition and caprice. 

III. In the truest sense it may be claimed that this is the teaching ofChristianity. When Christ says that we are to love God with our minds Heseems to imply that there is such a thing as intelligent affection. Thedistinctive feature of our Lord's claim is that God is not satisfied whenHis creatures render a merely implicit obedience; He {66} desires alsothe enthusiastic use of their intellect, intent on knowing everythingthat it is possible for men to know about His character and ways. And isthere not something sublime in this demand of God that the noblest partof man should be consecrated to Him? God reveals Himself in Christ toour highest; and He would have us respond to His manifestations with ourhighest. Nor is this the attitude of Christ only. The Apostle Paul alsohonours the mind, and gives to it the supreme place as the organ ofapprehending and appropriating divine truth. Mr. Lecky brings theserious charge against Christianity that it habitually disregards thevirtues of the intellect. If there is any truth in this statement itrefers, not to the genius of the Gospel itself, nor to the earlierexponents of it, but rather to the Church in those centuries whichfollowed the conversion of Constantine. No impartial reader of St. Paul's Epistles can aver that the apostle made a virtue of ignorance andcredulity. These documents, which are the earliest exposition of themind of Christ, impress us rather with the intellectual boldness of theirattempt to grapple with the greatest problems of life. Paul wasessentially a thinker; and, as Sabatier says, is to be ranked with Platoand Aristotle, Augustine and Kant, as one of the mightiest intellectualforces of the world. But not content with being a thinker himself, hesought to make his converts thinkers too, and he does not hesitate tomake the utmost demand upon their reasoning faculties. He assumes anatural capacity in man for apprehending the truth, and appeals to themind rather than to the emotions. The Gospel is styled by him 'the wordof truth, ' and he bids men 'prove all things. ' Worship is not ameaningless ebullition of feeling or a superstitious ritual, but a formof self-expression which is to be enlightened and guided by thought. 'Iwill pray with the understanding and sing with the understanding. '

It is indeed a strong and virile Christianity which Paul and the otherapostles proclaim. It is no magic spell they seek to exert. They areconvinced that there is that in {67} the mind of man which is ready torespond to a thoughtful Gospel. If men will only give their unprejudicedminds to God's Word, it is able to make them 'wise unto salvation. ' Itwould lead us beyond the scope of this chapter to consider the peculiarPauline significance of faith. It is enough to say that while he doesnot identify it with intellectual assent, as little does he confine it tomere subjective assurance. It is the primary act of the human spiritwhen brought into contact with divine truth, and it lies at the root of anew ethical power, and of a deeper knowledge of God. If the apostleappears to speak disparagingly of wisdom it is the wisdom of pride, of'knowledge that puffeth up. ' He warns Timothy against 'science falselyso called. ' On the whole St. Paul exalts the intellect and bids menattain to the full exercise of their mental powers. 'Be not children inunderstanding: but in understanding be men. '[25]

If, as we have seen, the body be an integral part of man, and has itsplace and function in the Christian life, not less, but even more, hasthe mind a special ethical importance. It is to the intelligence thatChristianity appeals, and it is with the rational faculties that moraltruth is apprehended and applied to life. Reason in its broadest senseis the most distinctive feature of man, and by means of it he exerts hismightiest influence upon the world. Mental and moral growth are closelyconnected, and personal character is largely moulded by thought. 'As aman thinketh in his heart so is he. ' Not only at the beginning of thenew life, but in all its after stages the mind is an important factor, and its consecration and cultivation are laid upon us as an obligation byHim in whose image we have been made, and whom to know and serve is ourhighest end. 

[1] See Author's _Ethics of St. Paul_. 

[2] Cf. Murray, _Sandbank of Christian Ethics_. See also Hegel, _Phil. Der Religion_, vol. Ii. P. 210 ff. , where the antithesis is finely workedout. 

[3] Gen. I. 26; Eccles. Vii. 29; Col. Iii. 10; James iii. 9. 

[4] See Hugh Miller's _Essays_, quoted by Murray, _op. Cit. _, p. 137. 

[5] Cf. W. James, _Varieties of Religious Experience_, pp. 81-86. 

[6] Cf. Goethe's _Faust_. See also Nietzsche, _Götzendämmerung_ fortrenchant criticism of Rousseau. 

[7] Murray, _idem_. 

[8] Max Müller, Fraser, _Golden Bough_, and others. 

[9] Anfänge des Christentums. 

[10] Cf. Ottley, _Christian Ideas and Ideals_, p. 52. 'Christianity doesjustice both to man's inherent instinct that he has been made for God, and to his sense of unworthiness and incapacity. '

[11] _Pensées_, part ii. Art. 1. 

[12] Emerson. 

[13] Ed. Caird, _Critical Philosophy of Kant_, p. 35. 

[14] See Author's _Ethics of St. Paul_. 

[15] Ottley, _idem_, p. 55. 

[16] Luke xxi. 19. 

[17] Cf. John Caird, _Introd. To the Philosophy of Religion_. 

[18] Cf. Wm. James's _Pragmatism_ and _A Pluralistic World_. 

[19] _Idem_, p. 201. 

[20] Cf. Bosanquet, _The Principles of Individuality and Value_. 

[21] Bergson, _Evol. Creat. _, p. 174 f. 

[22] Cf. E. Caird, _Kant_, vol. Ii. Pp. 530 and 535. 

[23] _Evol. Creat. _, p. 159. 

[24] _Hib. Jour. _, July 1911. 

[25] Some sentences in the above are borrowed from the writer's _Ethicsof St. Paul_. 

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CHAPTER V

THE WITNESS OF CONSCIENCE

Passing from the physical and mental constituents of man, we turn tothe more distinctly moral elements; and in this chapter we shallconsider that aspect of the human consciousness to which mankind hasgiven the name of 'conscience. '

No subject has presented greater difficulties to the moralist, andthere are few which require more careful elucidation. From theearliest period of reflection the question how we came to have moralideas has been a disputed one. At first it was thought that thereexisted in man a distinct innate faculty or moral sense which wascapable of deciding categorically man's duty without reference tohistory or condition. But in modern times the theory of evolution hasdiscredited the inviolable character of conscience, and sought ratherto determine its nature and significance in the light of its origin anddevelopment. Only the barest outline of the subject can be attemptedhere, since our object is simply to show that however we may accountfor its presence, there is in man, as we know him, some power orfunction which bears witness to divine truth and fits him to respond tothe revelation of Christ. It will be most convenient to consider thesubject under three heads: I. The history of the Conception; II. Thenature and origin of Conscience; and III. Its present validity. 

I. _History of the Conception_. --'The name conscience, ' says a writeron the subject, 'appears somewhat late in {69} the history of theworld: that for which it stands is as old as mankind. '[1]

1. Without pushing our inquiries back into the legendary lore ofsavage life, in which we find evidence of the idea in the socialinstitutions and religious enactments of primitive races, it is amongthe Greeks that the word, if not the idea of conscience, first meetsus. Perhaps the earliest trace of the notion is to be found in themythological conception of the Furies, whose business it was to avengecrime--a conception which might be regarded as the reaction of man'sown nature against the violation of better instincts, if not as thereflection or embodiment of what is popularly called conscience. Itcan scarcely be doubted that the Erinnyes of Aeschylus were deities ofremorse, and possess psychological significance as symbols of theprimitive action of conscience. [2] Though Sophocles is less of atheologian than Aeschylus, and problems of Ethics count less than thehuman interest of his story, the law of Nemesis does find in himdramatic expression, and the noble declaration put into the mouth ofAntigone concerning the unwritten laws of God that 'know no change andare not of to-day nor yesterday, but must be obeyed in preference tothe temporary commandments of men, '[3] is a protest on behalf ofconscience against human oppression. And even in Euripides, regardedas an impious scoffer by some scholars, [4] there are not wanting, especially in the example of Alcestis, evidence of belief in thatdivine justice and moral order of which the virtues of self-devotionand sacrifice in the soul of man are the witness. 

Socrates was among the first teachers of antiquity who led the way tothat self-knowledge which is of the essence of conscience, and in the'Daemon, ' or inner voice, which he claimed to possess, some writershave detected the trace {70} of the intuitive monitor of man. Plato'sdiscussion of the question, 'What is the highest good?' involves thecapacity of moral judgment, and his conception of reason regulatingdesire suggests a power in the mind whose function it is to point tothe highest good and to subordinate to it all the other impulses ofman. In the ethics of Aristotle there is a reference to a faculty inman or 'rule within, ' which, he says, the beasts lack. 

But it is among the Stoics that the word first appears; and it is tothe Roman moralist, Seneca, that we are indebted for the earlierdefinite perception of an abiding consciousness bearing witnessconcerning a man's own conduct. The writings of Epictetus, Aurelius, and Seneca approach in moral sublimity and searching self-analysis theNew Testament Scriptures. It was probably to the Stoics that St. Paulwas indebted for the word _syneidêsis_ to which he has given sodistinctive a meaning that it has coloured and determined the wholelater history of the moral consciousness. 

2. But if the word as used in the New Testament comes from Greeksources the idea itself was long prevalent in the Jewish conception oflife, which, even more than the Greek, was constitutive of, andpreparatory to, the Christian view. The word does not, indeed, occurin the Old Testament, but the question of God to Adam, 'Where artthou?' the story of Cain and the curse he was to suffer for the murderof his brother; the history of Joseph's dealing with his brethren; theaccount of David's sin and conviction, are by implication appeals toconscience. Indeed, the whole history of Israel, from the time whenthe promise was given to Abraham and the law through Moses until thedenunciations of wrong-doing and the predictions of doom of the laterprophets, is one long education of the moral sense. It is the problemof conscience that imparts its chief interest to the book of Job; andone reason why the Psalms in all ages have been so highly prized isbecause they are the cries of a wounded conscience, and the confessionsof a convicted and contrite heart. 

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3. If we turn to the New Testament we find, as we might expect, a muchclearer testimony to the reality of the conscience. The word came intothe hands of the New Testament writers ready-made, but they gave to ita richer meaning, so that it is to them we must go if we wouldunderstand the nature and the supremacy of the conscience. The termoccurs thirty-one times in the New Testament, but it does not appearonce in the Gospels. It is, indeed, principally a Pauline expression, and to the apostle of the Gentiles more than to any other writer is duethe clear conception and elucidation of the term. It would be amistake, however, to assume that the doctrine itself depends entirelyupon the use of the word. Our Lord never, indeed, employs the term, but surely no teacher ever sounded the depths of the human heart as Hedid. It was His mission to reveal men to themselves, to convict themof sin, and show the need of that life of righteousness and puritywhich He came to give. 'Why even of yourselves, ' He said, 'judge yenot what is right?' Christ, indeed, might be called the conscience ofman. To awaken, renew and enlighten the moral sense of individuals, tomake them know what they were and what they were capable of becomingwas the work of the Son of Man, and in contact with Him every one wasmorally unveiled. 

The word occurs twice in Acts, five times in Hebrews, three times inthe Epistles of Peter, and more than twenty times in the PaulineEpistles. St. Paul's doctrine of the conscience is contained in Romansii. 14, 15, where he speaks of the Gentiles being 'a law untothemselves, ' inasmuch as they possess a 'law written in their hearts, ''their conscience bearing witness, therewith accusing or excusingthem. ' The idea underlying the passage is the responsibility of allmen for their actions, their condemnation in sin, and their acceptancein righteousness. This applies to Gentiles as well as Jews, and itapplies to them because, though they have not the explicit revelationof the law, they have a revelation of the good in their hearts. Thepassage therefore teaches two things: (1) That man has received a {72}revelation of good sufficient at all stages of his history to make himmorally responsible; and (2) That man possesses a moral faculty whichindeed is not a separate power, but the whole moral consciousness orpersonality in virtue of which he recognises and approves of the goodwhich, either as the law written in his heart or as the lawcommunicated in the Decalogue, has been revealed to him, and by whoseauthority he judges himself. 

II. _Nature, and Origin of Conscience_. --While experience seems topoint to the existence of something in man witnessing to the right, there is great diversity of view as to the nature of this moralelement. The word 'Conscience' stands for a concept whose meaning isfar from well defined, and the lack of definiteness has left its traceupon ethical theories. While some moralists assign conscience to therational or intellectual side of man, and make it wholly a faculty ofjudgment; others attribute it to feeling or impulse, and make it asense of pleasure or pain; others again associate it more closely withthe will, and regard its function to be legislative or imperative. These differences of opinion reveal the complexity of the nature ofconscience. The fact is, that it belongs to all these departments--theintellectual, emotional, and volitional--and ought to be regarded notas a single faculty distinct from the particular decisions, motives, and acts of man, not as an activity foreign to the ego, but as theexpression of the whole personality. The question of the origin ofconscience, though closely connected with its nature, is for ethicsonly of secondary importance. It is desirable, however, to indicatethe two main theories which have been held regarding its genesis. While there are several varieties, they may be divided broadly intotwo--Intuitionalism and Evolutionalism. 

1. _Nativism_, of which Intuitionalism is the most common form, regards the conscience as a separate natural endowment, coeval with thecreation of man. Every individual, it is maintained, has been endowedby nature with a distinct faculty or organ by which he can immediatelyand clearly {73} pronounce upon the rightness or wrongness of his ownactions. In its most pronounced form this theory maintains that manhas not merely a general consciousness of moral distinctions, butpossesses from the very first, apart from all experience and education, a definite and clear knowledge of the particular vices which ought tobe avoided and the particular virtues which ought to be practised. This theory is usually connected with a form of theism which maintainsthat the conscience is particularly a divine gift, and is, indeed, God's special witness or oracle in the heart of man. 

Though there would seem to be an element of truth in intuitionalism, since man, to be man at all, must be conceived as made for God andhaving that in him which points to the end or ideal of his being, stillin its most extreme form it would not be difficult to show that thistheory is untenable. It is objectionable, because it involves twoassumptions, of which the one conflicts with experience, and the otherwith the psychological nature of man. 

(1) Experience gives us no warrant for supposing that duty is alwaysthe same, and that conscience is therefore exempt from change. Historyshows rather that moral convictions only gradually emerge, and that thelaws and customs of one age are often repudiated by the next. What mayseem right to one man is no longer so to his descendant. Historyrecords deeds committed in one generation in the name of consciencewhich in the same name a later generation has condemned with horror. Moreover, the possibility of a conflict between duties proves thatunconditional truth exists at no stage of moral development. There isno law so sacred that it may not in special cases have to yield to thesacredness of a higher law. When duties conflict, our choice cannot bedetermined by any _a priori_ principle residing in ourselves. It mustbe governed by that wider conception of the moral life which is to begained through one's previous development, and on the basis of a ripemoral experience. [5] (2) Nor is this theory consistent with {74} theknown nature of man. We know of no separate and independent organcalled conscience. Man must not be divided against himself. Reasonand feeling enter into all acts of will, since these are not processesdifferent in kind, but elements of voluntary activity itself andinseparable from it. It is impossible for a man to be determined inhis actions or judgments by a mere external formula of duty, a'categorical imperative, ' as Kant calls it, apart from motives. Moreover, all endowments may be regarded as divine gifts, and it is aprecarious position to claim for one faculty a spiritually divine orsupernatural origin which is denied to others. Man is related to Godin his whole nature. The view which regards the law of duty assomething foreign to man, stern and unchangeable in its decrees, and innowise dependent upon the gradual development and growing content ofthe moral life is not consistent either with history or psychology. 

2. _Evolutionalism_, which since the time of Darwin has been appliedby Spencer and others to account for the growth of our moral ideas, holds that conscience is the result of a process of development, butdoes not limit the process to the life of the individual. It extendsto the experience of the race. While admitting the existence ofconscience as a moral faculty in the rational man of to-day, it holdsthat it did not exist in his primitive ancestors. Earlier individualsaccumulated a certain amount of experience and moral knowledge, theresult of which, as a habit or acquired capacity, was handed down totheir successors. From the first man has been a member of society, andis what he is in virtue of his relation to it. All that makes him man, all his powers of body and mind, are inherited. His instincts anddesires, which are the springs of action, are themselves the creationof heredity, association and environment. The individual takes itsshape at every point from its relation to the social organism of whichit is a part. What man really seeks from the earliest is satisfaction. 'No school, ' says Mr. Spencer, 'can avoid taking for the ultimate moralaim a desirable {75} state of feeling. '[6] Prolonged experience ofpleasure in connection with actions which serve social ends hasresulted in certain physiological changes in the brain and nervoussystem rendering these actions constant. Thus, according to Spencer, is begotten conscience. 

While acknowledging the service which the evolutionary theory has donein calling attention to the place and function of experience and socialenvironment in the development of the moral life, and in showing thatmoral judgment, like every other capacity, must participate in thegradual unfolding of personality, as a conclusive explanation ofconscience it must be pronounced insufficient. Press the analysis ofsensation as far back as we please, and make an analysis of instinctsand feelings as detailed as possible, we never get in man a meresensation, as we find it in the lower animal; it is always sensationrelated to, and modified by, a self. In the simplest human instinctsthere is always a spiritual element which is the basis of thepossibility at once of knowledge and morality. 'That countlessgenerations, ' says Green, 'should have passed during which atransmitted organism was progressively modified by reaction on itssurroundings, by struggle for existence or otherwise, till itsfunctions became such that an eternal consciousness could realise orproduce itself through them--might add to the wonder with which theconsideration of what we do and are must always fill us, but it couldnot alter the results of that consideration. '[7]

No process of evolution, even though it draws upon illimitable ages, can evolve what was not already present in the form of a spiritualpotency. The empiric treatment of conscience as the result of socialenvironment and culture leads inevitably back to the assumption of somerudimentary moral consciousness without which the development of amoral sense would be an impossibility. The history of mankind, moreover, shows that conscience, so far from being merely the reflex ofthe prevailing customs and institutions of a particular age, hasfrequently {76} closed its special character by reacting upon andprotesting against the recognised traditions of society. Theindividual conscience has often been in advance of its times; and theprogress of man has been secured as much by the champions of liberty asby those who conform to accepted customs. In all moral advance therecomes a stage when, in the conflict of habit and principle, conscienceasserts itself, not only in revealing a higher ideal, but in urging mento seek it. 

III. _The Validity and Witness of Conscience_. --It is not, however, with the origin of conscience, but with its capacities and functions inits developed state that Ethics is primarily concerned. The beginningmust be interpreted by the end, and the process by the result to whichit tends. 

1. The Christian doctrine is committed neither to the intuitional northe evolutionist theory, but rather may be said to reconcile both byretaining that which is true in each. While it holds to the inherentability on the part of a being made in God's image to recognise at thedifferent stages of his growth and development God's will as it hasbeen progressively revealed, it avoids the necessity of conceiving manas possessing from the very beginning a full-fledged organ ofinfallible authority. The conscience participates in man's generalprogress and enlightenment. Nor can the moral development of theindividual be held separate from the moral development of the race. Asthere is a moral solidarity of mankind, so the individual conscience isconditional by the social conscience. The individual does not start inlife with a full-grown moral apparatus any more than he starts with amatured physical frame. The most distinctively spiritual attainmentsof man have their antecedents in less human and more animal capacities. As there is a continuity of human life, so individuals and peoplesinherit the moral assets of previous generations, and incorporate intheir experience all past attainments. Conscience is involved in man'smoral history. It suffers in his sin and alienation from God, becomingclouded in its insight and feeble in its testimony, but it shares alsoin his {77} spiritual advancement, growing more sensitive and decisivein its judgments. 

(1) Conscience, as the New Testament teaches, can be _perverted_ anddebased. It is always open to a free agent to disobey his conscienceand reject its authority. On the intuitional theory, which regards theconscience as a separable and independent faculty, it would bedifficult to vindicate the terrible consequences of such conduct. Itis because the conscience is the man himself as related to theconsciousness of the divine will that the effects are so injurious. Conscience may be (_a_) _Stained_, defiled, and polluted in its verytexture (1 Cor. Viii. 7); (_b_) _Branded_ or seared (1 Tim. Iv. 2), rendered insensible to all feeling for good; (_c_) _Perverted_, inwhich the very light within becomes darkness. In this last stage theman calls evil good and good evil--the very springs of his nature arepoisoned and the avenues of his soul are closed. 

 'This is death, and the sole death, When man's loss comes to him from his gain. '[8]

(2) But if conscience can be perverted it may also be _improved_. Theeducation is twofold, social and individual. Through society, saysGreen, personality is actualised. 'No individual can make a consciencefor himself. He always needs a society to make it for him. '[9] Thereis no such thing as a purely individual conscience. Man can onlyrealise himself, come to his best, in relation to others. Theconditions amid which a man is born and reared--the home, the school, the church, the state--are the means by which the conscience isexercised and educated. But the individual is not passive. He hasalso a part to play; and the whole task of man may be regarded as anendeavour to make his conscience effective in life. The New Testamentwriters refrain from speaking of the conscience as an unerring andperfect organ. Their language implies rather the possibility of itsgradual enlightenment; and St. Paul specially dwells upon the necessityof 'growing in spiritual {78} knowledge and perception. ' As lifeadvances moral judgment may be modified and corrected by fullerknowledge, and the perception of a particular form of conduct as goodmay yield to the experience of something better. 

2. 'It is one of the most wonderful things, ' says Professor Wundt, 'about moral development, that it unites so many conditions ofsubordinate value in the accomplishment of higher results, '[10] and theworth of morality is not endangered because the grounds of itsrealisation in special cases do not always correspond in elevation tothe moral ideas. The conscience is not an independent faculty whichissues its mandates irrespective of experience. Its judgments arealways conditioned by motives. The moral imperatives of conscience maybe grouped under four heads:[11] (1) _External constraints_, includingall forms of punishment for immoral actions and the socialdisadvantages which such actions involve. These can only produce thelowest grade of morality, outward propriety, the mere appearance ofvirtue which has only a negative value in so far as it avoids what ismorally offensive. (2) _Internal constraints_, consisting ofinfluences excited by the example of others, by public opinion andhabits formed through education and training. (3) _Self-satisfaction_, originating in the agent's own consciousness. It may be a sense ofpleasure or feeling of self-approbation: or higher still, the idea ofduty for its own sake, commonly called 'conscientiousness. ' (4) _Theideal of life_, the highest imperative of conscience. Here thenobility of life, as a whole, the supreme life-purpose, gives meaningand incentive to each and every action. The ideal of life is not, however, something static and completed, given once and for all. Itgrows with the enlightenment of the individual and the development ofhumanity. The consciousness of every age comprehends it in certainlaws and ends of life. The highest form of the ideal finds itsembodiment in what are called noble characters. These ethical heroesrise, in rare and exceptional circumstances, above the ordinary levelof {79} common morality, gathering up into themselves the entire moraldevelopment of the past, and radiating their influence into theremotest distances of the future. They are the embodiments of theconscience of the race, at once the standard and challenge of the morallife of mankind, whose influence awakens the slumbering aspirations ofmen, and whose creative genius affects the whole history of the world, lifting it to higher levels of thought and endeavour. 

The supreme example--unique, however, both in kind and degree, anddiffering by its uniqueness from every other life which has in somemeasure approximated to the ideal--is disclosed in Jesus Christ. Thusit is that the moral consciousness of the world generally and of theindividual in particular, of which the conscience is the organ andexpression, develops from less to more, under the influence of thesuccessive imperatives of conduct, till finally it attains to thevision of the greatness of life as it is revealed in its supreme andall-commanding ideal. [12]

3. Finally, in this connection the question of the _permanence ofconscience_ may be referred to. Is the ultimate of life a state inwhich conscience will pervade every department of a man's being, dominating all his thoughts and activities? or is the ideal conditionone in which conscience shall be outgrown and its operation renderedsuperfluous? A recent writer on Christian ethics[13] makes theremarkable statement that where there is no sense of sin conscience hasno function, and he draws the inference that where there is completenormality and perfect moral health conscience will be in abeyance. Satan, inasmuch as he lacks all moral instinct, can know nothing ofconscience; and, because of His sinlessness, Jesus must also bepronounced conscienceless. Hence the paradox attributed toMachiavelli: 'He who is without conscience is either a Christ or adevil. ' But though it is true that the Son of Man had no actualexperience of sin, and could not, indeed, feel remorse or contrition, yet in so far as He was man there was in Him {80} the possibility ofsin, and in the intimate relation which He bore to the human race Hehad a most accurate and clear knowledge both of the meaning andconsequences of evil. So far from saying that Christ had noconscience, it would be nearer the truth to say that He had a perfectconscience, a personality and fullness of consciousness which was acomplete reflection of, and harmony with, the highest conceivable good. The confusion of thought into which Professor Lemme seems to fall isdue, we cannot help thinking, to the too restricted and negativesignification he gives to conscience. Conscience is not merely thefaculty of reproving and approving one's own conduct when brought intorelation with actual sin. It is involved in every moral judgment. Agood conscience is not only the absence of an evil one. It has also apositive sanctioning value. The 'ought' of life is constantly present. It is the whole man ever conscious of, and confronted by, his idealself. The conscience participates in man's gradual progress andenlightenment; so far from the individual growing towards a conditionin which self-judgment ceases, he is progressing rather in moraldiscernment, and becoming more and more responsive to the will of Himwhose impress and image he bears upon his soul. 

The tendency of modern physiological accounts of conscience has been toundermine its authority and empty life of its responsibility, but notheory of the origin of conscience must be permitted to invalidate itsjudgments. If conscience has any moral worth it is that it containsthe promise and witness of God. The prime question is, What is thenature of its testimony? According to the teaching of Scripture itbears witness to the existence of a higher than man--to a divine Personwith whom he is spiritually akin and to whom he is accountable. 

'God's most intimate presence in the soul. ' As the revelation of God'swill grows clearer man's ideal becomes loftier. Hence a man'sconscience is the measure of his moral life. It reveals God, and inthe light of God reveals man to himself. We carry a 'forever' withinour bosom, {81} 'ein Gott in unserer Brust, '[14] as Goethe says, whichreminds us that even while denizens of this earth we are citizens ofheaven and the sharers of an eternal life. Like another John theBaptist, conscience points to one greater than itself. It emphasisesthe discord that exists between the various parts of man's nature, adiscord which it condemns but cannot remove. It can judge, but itcannot compel. Hence it places man before Christ, and bids him yieldto the sway of a new transforming power. As one has finely said, 'Hewho has implanted in every breast such irrefragible testimony to theright, and such unappeasable yearnings for its complete triumph, nowcomes in His own perfect way to reveal Himself as the Lord ofconscience, the Guide of its perplexities, the Strength of its weaknessand the Perfecter of its highest hopes. '[15]

[1] Davidson, _The Christian Conscience_. 

[2] Cf. Symonds, _Studies of Greek Poets_, first series, p. 191. 

[3] _Antigone_, Plumptre's Trans. , 455-9. 

[4] Cf. Bunsen, _God in History_, vol. Ii. P. 224; also Campbell, _Religion in Greek Literature_. 

[5] Cf. Wundt, _Ethik_, vol. Ii. P. 66. 

[6] _Data of Ethics_, p. 18. 

[7] _Proleg. _, section 83. 

[8] Browning. 

[9] _Proleg. _, section 321. 

[10] _Ethik_, vol. Ii. P. 66. 

[11] _Idem_. 

[12] Cf. Wundt, _Ethik_, vol. Ii. Pp. 67-74. 

[13] Lemme, _Christliche Ethik_, vol. I. 

[14] _Tasso_, act iii. Scene 2. 

[15] Davidson, _The Christian Conscience_, p. 113. 

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CHAPTER VI

'THE MIRACLE OF THE WILL'

Closely connected with the conscience as a moral capacity is the power ofself-determination, or as it is popularly called--free-will. Ifconscience is the manifestation of man as knowing, will is moreespecially his manifestation as a being who acts. The subject which wenow approach presents at once a problem and a task. The nature offreedom has been keenly debated from the earliest times, and the historyof the problem of the will is almost the history of philosophy. Thepractical question which arises is whether the individual has any powerby which the gulf between the natural and the spiritual can betranscended. Can man choose and decide for a spiritual world above thatin which he is by nature involved? The revelation of the good must, indeed, precede the activity of man. But at the same time the changecannot merely happen to him. He cannot simply be a passive recipient. The new life must be taken up by his own activity, and be made his by hisown decision and acceptance. This responsive activity on the part of manis the task which life presents to the will. 

Much obviously depends upon the answer we are able to give to thisquestion. If man has no power of choice, no capacity ofself-determination, and is nothing more than a part of the natural world, then the ethical life is at once ruled out of court. 

The difficulties connected with the problem of moral freedom resolvethemselves mainly into three: a scientific, a psychological, and atheological. 

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I. On the part of natural science it is claimed that man is subject, like everything else, to physical necessity. 

II. From the psychological standpoint it is urged that man's actions arealways determined by the strongest motive. 

III. On the theological side it is alleged that human freedom isincompatible with divine Sovereignty. A complete doctrine of freedomwould require to be examined in the light of these three objections. Forour purpose it will be sufficient to indicate briefly the value of thesedifficulties, and the manner in which they may be met. 

I

The wonderful progress of the natural sciences in the second half of thenineteenth century has tended to banish the old idea of freedom from therealm of experience. Science, it is maintained, clearly shows that manbelongs to a great world-movement, in relation to which his whole lifeand work are completely determined. Though even in earlier ages, andespecially in Stoic philosophy, this conception of life was not ignored, it is more particularly in recent times, under the influence of theevolutionary theory, that the idea of determination has been applied withrelentless insistence to the structure of the soul. There is, it isalleged, no room for change or spontaneity. Everything, down to theminutest impulse, depends upon something else, and proceeds from adefinite cause. The idea of choice is simply the remnant of anunscientific mode of thinking. It might be sufficient to reply that inthus reducing life and experience to a necessary part of a world-whole, more is surrendered than even science is willing to yield. The freedomwhich some writers reject in the interests of science they attempt tointroduce in an altered form. Why are these philosophers so anxious toconserve the ethical consequences of life? Is it not because they feelthat there is something in man which will not fit into a rigidworld-mechanism, and that conduct would cease {84} to have moral worth iflife were reduced to a causal series of happenings? But it may befurther argued that, if the mechanical conception of life, which reducesthe spiritual to the natural, were consistently carried out it would leadnot merely to the destruction of the moral life, but to the destructionof science itself. If man is merely a part of nature, subject entirelyto nature's law, then the realities of the higher life--love, self-sacrifice, devotion to ends beyond ourselves--must be radicallyre-interpreted or regarded simply as illusions. But it is also true thatfrom this standpoint science itself is an illusion. For if reality liesonly in the passing impressions of our sensible nature, the claim ofscience to find valid truth must end in the denial of the verypossibility of knowledge. Does not the very existence of physicalscience imply the priority of thought? While in one sense it may beconceded that man is a part of nature, does not the truth, which cannotbe gainsaid, that he is aware of the fact, prove a certain priority andpower which differentiates him from all other phenomena of the universe?If he is a link in the chain of being, he is at least a link which isconscious of what he is. He is a being who knows himself, indeed, through the objective world, but also realises himself only as he makeshimself its master and the agent of a divine purpose to which all thingsare contributing, and for which all things exist. In all our reasoningand endeavour we must start from the unity of the self-conscious soul. Whatever we can either know or achieve, is _our_ truth, _our_ actpresented in and through our self-consciousness. It is impossible for usto conceive any standard of truth or object of desire outside of ourexperience. As a thinking and acting being man pursues ends, and has theconsciousness that they are his own ends, subject to his own choice andcontrol. It is always the self that the soul seeks; and the will isnothing else than the man making and finding for himself another world. 

The attempt has recently been made to measure mental states by theirphysical stimuli and explain mental {85} processes by cerebral reaction. It is true that certain physical phenomena seem to be invariablyantecedent to thought, but so far science has been unable to exhibit theform of nexus between these physical antecedents and ideas. Even if theknowledge of the topography of the brain were immeasurably more advancedthan it now is, even though we could observe the vast network ofnerve-fibres and filaments of which the brain is composed, and coulddiscern the actual changes in brain-cells under nerve stimulations, weshould still be a long way off from understanding the nature and genesisof ideas which can only be known to us as immediate in their own quality. All that we can ever affirm is that a certain physical excitation is theantecedent of thought. It is illegitimate to say that it is the 'cause'of thought; unless, indeed, the word 'cause' be invested with no othermeaning than that which is involved in such a conception. It is, however, in a very general way only, and within an exceedingly narrowrange, that such measurement is possible. We do not even know at presentwhat nerves correspond to the sensations of heat and cold, pain and joy;and all attempts to localise will-centres have proved unavailing. 

The finer and more delicate feelings cannot be gauged. But even thoughthe alleged parallelism were entirely demonstrated, the immediate andpertinent question would still remain, Who or what is the investigator?Is it an ego, a thinking self? or is it only a complex of vibrations ormechanical impressions bound together in a particular body which, forconvenience, is called an ego? Are the so-called entities--personality, consciousness, self--but symbols, as Professor Mach says, useful in sofar as they help us to express our physical sensations, but which withfurther research must be pronounced illusions?[1] Monistic naturalism, which would explain all psychical experiences in terms of cerebralaction, must not be allowed to arrogate to itself powers which it doesnot possess, and quietly brush {86} aside facts which do not fit into itssystem. The moral sanctions so universally and deeply rooted in theconsciousness of mankind, the feelings of responsibility, of guilt andregret; the soul's fidelities and heroisms, its hopes and fears, its aimsand ideals--the poetry, art, and religion that have made man what he is, all that has contributed to the uplifting of the world--are, to say theleast, unaccounted for, if it must be held that 'man is born in chains. 'Primary facts must not be surrendered nor ultimate experiences sacrificedin the interests of theoretic simplicity. In the recentanti-metaphysical movement of Germany, of which Haeckel, Avenarius, Oswald and Mach are representatives, there is presented the finalconflict. It is not freedom of will only that is at stake, it is thevery existence of a spiritual world. 'Es ist der Kampf um die Seele. '[2]

If the world forms a closed and 'given' system in which every particularis determined completely by its position in the whole, then there can beno place for spontaneity, initiative, creation, which all investigationshows to be the distinctive feature in human progress and upwardmovement. So far from its being true that the world makes man, it wouldbe nearer the truth to say that man makes the world. A 'given' world cannever be primary. [3] There must be a mind behind it. We fall back, therefore, upon the principle which must be postulated in the wholediscussion--the unity and self-determining activity of the self-consciousmind. 

II

We may now proceed to the second problem of the will, the objection thathuman action is determined by motives, and that what we call freedom isnothing else than the necessary result of the pressure of motives uponthe will. In other words, the conduct of the individual is alwaysdetermined by the strongest motive. It will be seen on examination thatthis objection is just another form of that which we have alreadyconsidered. Indeed, the {87} analogy of mechanical power is frequentlyapplied to the motives of the will. Diverse motives have been comparedto different forces which meet in one centre, and it is supposed that theresult in action is determined by the united pressure of these variousmotives. Now it may be freely admitted at the outset that the individualnever acts except under certain influences. An uninfluenced man, anunbiassed character cannot exist. Not for one moment do we escape theenvironment, material and moral, which stimulates our inner life toreaction and response. It is not contended that a man is independent ofall motives. What we do affirm is that the self-realising potentialityof personality is present throughout. Much of the confusion of thoughtin connection with this subject arises from a false and inadequate notionof personality. Personality is the whole man, all that his past history, present circumstances and future aims have made him, the result of allthat the world of which he is a part has contributed to his experience. His bodily sensations, his mental acts, his desires and motives are notdetached and extraneous forces acting on him from without, but elementswhich constitute his whole being. The person, in other words, is thevisible or tangible phenomenon of something inward--the phase or functionby which an individual agent takes his place in the common world of humanintercourse and interaction, and plays his peculiar and definite part inlife. [4] But this totality of consciousness, so far from reducing man toa 'mere manufactured article, ' gives to personality its uniquedistinction. By personality all things are dominated. 'Other thingsexist, so to speak, for the sake of their kind and for the sake of otherthings: a person is never a mere means to something beyond, but always atthe same time an end in himself. He has the royal and divine right ofcreating law, of starting by his exception a new law which shallhenceforth be a canon and a standard. '[5]

{88}

The objection to the freedom of the will which we are now considering maybe best appreciated if we examine briefly the two extreme theories whichhave been maintained on the subject. On the one hand, _determinism_ or, as it is sometimes called, necessitarianism, holds that all our actionsare conditioned by law--the so-called motive that influences a man'sconduct is simply a link in a chain of occurrences of which his act isthe last. The future has no possibilities hidden in its womb. I amsimply what the past has made me. My circumstances are given, and mycharacter is simply the necessary resultant of the natural forces thatact upon me. On the other hand, _indeterminism_, or libertarianism, insists upon absolute liberty of choice of the individual, and deniesthat necessity or continuity determines conduct. Of two alternativesboth may now be really possible. You can never predict what will be, norlay down absolutely what a man will do. The world is not a finished andfixed whole. It admits of infinite possibilities, and instead of thevolition I have actually made, I could just as easily have made adifferent one. 

Without entering upon a detailed criticism of these two positions, it maybe said that both contain an element of truth and are not socontradictory as they seem. On the one hand, all the various factors ofthe complex will may seem to be determined by something that lies beyondour control, and thus our will itself be really determined. But, on theother hand, moral continuity in its last analysis is only a half truth, and must find its complement in the recognition of the possibilities ofnew beginnings. The very nature of moral action implies, as Lotze hassaid, that new factors may enter into the stream of causal sequence, andthat even though a man's life may be, and must be, largely conditioned byhis circumstances, his activity may be really originative and free. Whatthe determinists seem to forget is, as Green says, that 'character isonly formed through a man's conscious presentation to himself of objectsas _his_ good, as that in which his self-satisfaction is found. '[6] {89}Desires are always for objects which have a value for the individual. Aman's real character is reflected in his desires, and it is not that heis moved by some outside abstract force, which, being the strongest, hecannot resist, but it is because he puts _himself_ into the desire ormotive that it becomes the strongest, the one which he chooses to follow. My motives are really part of myself, of which all my actions are theoutcome. Human desires, in short, are not merely external tendenciesforcing a man this way or that way. They are a part of the man himself, and are always directed towards objects related to a self; and it is thesatisfaction of self that makes them desirable. 

On the other hand, the fallacy lurking in the libertarian view arisesfrom the fact that it also makes a hard and fast distinction between theself and the will. The indeterminists speak as if the self had amongstits several faculties a will which is free in the sense of being able toact independently of all desires and motives. But, as a matter of fact, the will, as we have said, is simply the man, and it cannot be separatedfrom his history, his character, and the objects which his characterdesires. To speak, as people sometimes do in popular language, of beingfree to do as they like--that is, to be influenced by no motive whatever, is not only an idea absurd in itself, but one which, if pushed to itsconsequences, would be subversive of all freedom, and consequently of allmoral value. 'The liberty of indifference, ' if the phrase means anythingat all, implies not merely that the agent is free from all externalcompulsion, but that he is free from himself, not determined even by hisown character. And if we ask what it really is that causes him to act, it must be answered, some caprice of the moment, some accidental impulseor arbitrary freak of fancy. The late Professor James makes a valiantattempt to solve the 'dilemma of determinism' by resorting to the idea of'chance' which he defines as a 'purely relative term, giving us noinformation about that which is predicated, except that it happens to bedisconnected with something else--not controlled, secured or {90}necessitated by other things in advance of its own actual presence. '[7]'On my way home, ' he says, 'I can choose either of two ways'; and suppose'the choice is made twice over and each time falls on a differentstreet. ' 'Imagine that I first walk through Divinity Avenue, and then amset again at the door of this hall just as I was before the choice wasmade. Imagine then that, _everything else being the same_, [8] I now makea different choice and traverse Oxford Street. Looking outwardly atthese universes of which my two acts are a part, can you say which is theimpossible and accidental one and which the rational and necessary one?'Perhaps an outsider could not say, but Professor James, if he examinedhis reasons, could say. He assumes that 'everything else is the same. 'But that is just what cannot be. A new factor has been introduced, itmay be a whim, a sudden impulse, perhaps even a desire to upsetcalculation--a something in his character in virtue of which his secondchoice is different from his first. It is an utter misnomer to call it'chance. ' Even though he had tossed a coin and acted on the throw, hisaction would still be determined by the kind of man he was. 

Let us not seek to defend freedom on inadequate grounds, or contend for aspurious liberty. No view of the subject should indeed debar us fromacknowledging 'changes in heart and life, ' but a misunderstanding of thedoctrine of freedom may tend to paralyse moral initiative. The attemptto sunder the will and the understanding and discover the source offreedom in the realm of the emotions, as the voluntarists seek to do, cannot be regarded as satisfactory or sound philosophy. In separatingfaith and knowledge the Ritschlian school tends to make subjectivefeeling the measure of truth and life; while recent psychologicalexperiments in America with the phenomena of faith-healing, hypnotism andsuggestion, claim to have discovered hitherto unsuspected potencies ofthe will. This line of thought has been welcomed by many as a relieffrom the mechanical theory of life and as a witness to moral {91} freedomand Christian hope. But so far from proving the sovereignty and autonomyof the will, it discloses rather the possibilities of its abject bondageand thraldom. 

No one can doubt the facts which Professor James and others, working fromthe side of religious psychology, have recently established, or discreditthe instances of conversion to which the annals of the Christian life soabundantly testify. But even conversion must not be regarded as a changewithout motives. There must be some connection between motive, characterand act, otherwise the new spiritual experience would be simply a magicalhappening lacking all moral significance. If there were no continuity ofconsciousness, if I could be something to-day irrespective of what I wasyesterday, then all we signify by contrition, penitence, and shame wouldhave no real meaning. Even the grace of God works through naturalchannels and human influences. The past is not so much obliterated, astaken up into the new life and transfigured with a new value. 

The truth of spontaneity and initiative in life has lately found in M. Bergson a fresh and vigorous advocacy, and we cannot be too grateful tothat profound thinker for his reassertion of some neglected aspects offreedom and his philosophical vindication of the doctrine which puts itin a new position of prominence and security. 'Life is Creation. ''Reality is a perpetual growth, a Creation pursued without end. ' 'Ourwill performs this miracle. ' 'Every human work in which there isinvention, every movement that manifests spontaneity brings something newinto the world. In the composition of the work of genius, as in a simplefree decision, we create what no mere assemblage of materials could havegiven. '[9] But yet he says that 'life cannot create absolutely becauseit is confronted with matter. . . . But it seizes upon this matter whichis necessity itself, and strives to introduce into it the greatestpossible amount of indetermination and liberty. '[10] Even Bergson, though he emphasises so strongly immediacy and incalculableness in {92}all human action, cannot deny that the bodily arrangements and mechanismsare at least the basis of the working of the soul. Man cannot produceany change in the world except in strict co-ordination with the forcesand qualities of material things. The idea in his consciousness ispowerless save in so far as it is a guide to combinations andmodifications which are latent in reality. The man who works with hishands does not create out of nothing a new totality. Even genius isconditioned by the elements he works with and upon. He can do nothingwith his materials beyond what it is in themselves to yield. This senseof co-operation is strongly marked in the higher grades of activity. Theworld may be in the making, as Bergson says, but it is being made ofpossibilities already inherent in it. Life may be incalculable, and youcan never know beforehand what a great man, indeed, what any man mayachieve, but even the originality of a Leonardo or a Beethoven cannoteffect the impossible or contradict the order of nature. The sculptorfeels that the statue is already lying in the marble awaiting only hiscreative touch to bring it forth. The metal is alive in the worker'shands, coaxing him to make of it something beautiful. [11] Purpose doesnot come out of an empty mind. Freedom and initiative never beginentirely _de novo_. Life is a 'creation, ' but it is also, as M. Bergsonlabours to prove, an 'evolution. ' Our ideals are made out of realities. Our heaven must be shaped out of the materials of our earth. 

A moral personality is a self-conscious, self-determining being. Butthat is only half the reality. The other half is that it is aself-determining consciousness _in a world_. As Bergson is careful totell us, the shape and extent of self-consciousness are determined by ourrelation to a world which acts upon us and upon which we act. Without aworld in which we had personal business we should have noself-consciousness. 

The co-operation of spontaneity and necessity is implied {93} in everytrue idea of freedom. If a man were the subject of necessity alone hewould be merely the creature of mechanical causation. If he had thepower of spontaneity only his so-called freedom would be a thing ofcaprice. Necessity means simply that man is conditioned by the world inwhich he lives. Spontaneity means, not that he can conjure up at a wisha dream-world of no conditions, but that he is not determined by anythingoutside of himself, since the very conditions amid which he is placed maybe transmuted by him into elements of his own character. Moral decisionsare never isolated from ideals and tasks presented by our surroundings. The self cannot act on any impulse however external till the impulse hastransplanted itself within and become our motive. 

'Our life, ' says Eucken, 'is a conflict between fate and freedom, betweenbeing "given" and spontaneity. Spiritual individuality does not come toany one, but has first to be won by the work of life, elevating thatwhich destiny brings. . . . The idea of freedom calls man to independentco-operation in the conflict of the worlds. It gives to the simply humanand apparently commonplace an incomparable greatness. However powerfuldestiny may be, it does not determine man entirely: for even inopposition to it there is liberation from it. '[12]

III

It will not be necessary to dwell at any length on the thirddifficulty--the incompatibility of divine sovereignty and grace withmoral personality. 

How to reconcile divine power and human freedom is the great problemwhich meets us on the very threshold of the study of man's relation toGod. The solution, in so far as it is possible for the mind, must besought in the divine immanence. God works through man, and man actsthrough God. Reason, conscience, and will are equally the testimony toGod's indwelling in man and man's {94} indwelling in God. It is, as St. Paul says, God who worketh in us both to will and to do. But justbecause of that inherent power, it is we who work out our own characterand destiny. The divine is not introduced into human life at particularpoints or in exceptional crises only. Every man has something of thedivine in him, and when he is truest to himself he is most at one withGod. The whole meaning of human personality is a growing realisation ofthe divine personality. God's sovereignty has no meaning except inrelation to a world of which He is sovereign, and His purposes can onlybe fulfilled through human agency. While His thoughts far transcend inwisdom and sublimity those of His creatures they must be in a sense ofthe same kind--thoughts, in other words, which beings made in His imagecan receive, love and, in a measure, share. And though God cannot beconceived as the author of evil, He may permit it and work through it, bringing order out of chaos, and evolving through suffering and conflictHis sovereign purposes. 

The problem becomes acutest when we endeavour to harmonise the antinomyof man's moral freedom and the doctrine of grace. However insoluble themystery, it is not lessened by denying one side in the interest of unity. Scripture boldly affirms both truths. No writer insists more strenuouslythan the Apostle Paul on the sovereign election of God, yet none presentswith greater fervour the free offer of salvation. In his ethicalteaching, at least, Paul is no determinist. Freedom is the distinctivenote of his conception of life. Life is a great and solemn trustcommitted to each by God, for the use or abuse of which every man will becalled to account. His missionary zeal would have no meaning if he didnot believe that men were free to accept or refuse his message. Paul'sown example, indeed, is typical, and while he knew that he was 'called, 'he knew, too, that it lay with him to yield himself and present his lifeas a living sacrifice to God. Jesus, too, throughout His ministry, assumed the ability of man freely to accept His call to righteousness, and though He speaks {95} of the change as a 'new birth, ' a creation fromabove, beyond the strength of man to effect, He invariably makes Hisappeal to the will--'Follow Me, ' 'Come unto Me. ' He assumes in all Hisdealings with individuals that they have the power of decision. And sofar from admitting that the past could not be undone, and no chain ofhabit broken, the whole purpose of His message and lifework was toproclaim the need and possibility of a radical change in life. So fullof hope was He for man that He despaired of none, not even of those whohad most grievously failed, or most utterly turned their back on purity. The parables in the Third Gospel of the lost coin, the lost sheep, andthe lost son lay emphasis upon the possibility of recovery, and, in thecase of the prodigal, specially on the ability to return for those whohave gone astray. 

The teaching of Scripture implies that while God is the source of allspiritual good, and divine grace must be present with and precede allrightful action of the human will, it rests with man to respond to thedivine love. No human soul is left destitute of the visiting of God'sspirit, and however rudimentary the moral life may be, no bounds can beset to the growth which may, and which God intends should, resultwherever the human will is consentient. While, therefore, no man canclaim merit in the sight of God, but must acknowledge his absolutedependency upon divine grace, no one can escape loss or blame if hewilfully frustrates God's design of mercy. Whatever mystery may attendthe subject of God's sovereign grace, the Bible never presents it asnegating the entire freedom of man to give or withhold response to thegift and leading of the divine spirit. 

In the deepest New Testament sense to be free is to have the power ofacting according to one's true nature. A man's ideal is his true self, and all short of that is for him a limitation of freedom. Inasmuch as noideal is ever completely realised, true freedom is not so much apossession as a progressive appropriation. It is at once a gift and atask. It contains the twofold idea of emancipation {96} and submission. Mere deliverance from the lower self is not liberty. Freedom must becompleted by the appropriation of the higher self and the acceptance ofthe obligations which that self involves. It is to be acquired throughsubmission to the truth. 'Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shallmake you free. ' A man is never so free as when he is the bondsman ofChrist. The saying of St. Paul sums up the secret and essence of alltrue freedom: 'The law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made mefree from the law of sin and death. '

[1] Mach, _Erkenntniss und Irrtum_. Vorwort. See also _Die Analyse derEmpfindungen_, p. 20. 'Das Sich ist unrettbar, ' he says. 

[2] Cf. W. Schmidt, _Der Kampf um die Seele_, p. 13. 

[3] Cf. Eucken. 

[4] Cf. Wallace, _Logic of Hegel, Proleg. _, p. 233. 

[5] Wallace, _Idem_, p. 235. Cf. Aristotle's wise man whose conduct isnot _kata logon_ but _meta logon_. 

[6] _Proleg. _, section 108. 

[7] _The Will to Believe_, p. 154. 

[8] _The italics are ours_. 

[9] _Creative Evolution_ (Eng. Trans. ), p. 252. 

[10] _Idem_, p. 265. 

[11] Cf. Morris, _Lects. On Art_, p. 195; Bosanquet, _Hist. OfAesthetic_, p. 445; also _Individuality and Value_, p. 166. 

[12] _Life's Basis and Life's Ideals_, p. 181 f. 

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SECTION C

CHARACTER

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CHAPTER VII

MODERN THEORIES OF LIFE

Bearing in mind the three fundamental ideas lying at the root of allethical inquiry--End, Norm, and Motive--we have now to deal with theshaping forces of the Christian life, the making of character. In thissection, therefore, we shall be engaged in a discussion of the ideals, laws, and springs of moral action. And first, What is the supreme good?What is the highest for which a man should live? This questiondetermines the main problem of life. It forces itself irresistibly uponus to-day, and the answer to it is the test of every system of morals. 

But before endeavouring to determine the distinctively Christian ideal, as presented in the teaching of Jesus and interpreted by the growingChristian consciousness of mankind, it may be well to review briefly someof the main theories of life which are pressing their claims upon ourattention to-day. Many of these modern views have arisen as a reactionagainst traditional religion. From the seventeenth century onwards, andespecially during the nineteenth, there has been a growing disposition tocall in question the Christian conception of life. The antagonismreveals itself not only in a distrust of all forms of religion, but alsoin a craving for wider culture. The old certitudes fail to satisfy menwho have acquired new habits of reflection, and there is a disinclinationto accept a scheme of life which seems to narrow human interests andexclude such departments as science, art, and politics. One reason ofthis change is to be found in the wonderful advance of science during thelast century. Men's minds, withdrawn {100} from primary, and fixed uponsecondary causes, have refused to believe that the order of nature can bedisturbed by supernatural intervention. Whether the modern antipathy toChristianity is justified is not the question at present before us. Wemay see in the movements of our day not so much a proof that the oldfaith is false, as an indication that if Christianity is to regain itspower a radical re-statement of its truths, and a more comprehensiveapplication of its principles to life as a whole must be undertaken. 

In the endeavour to find an all-embracing ideal of life two possibilitiespresent themselves, arising from two different ways of viewing man. Human life is in one aspect receptive; in another, active. It may beregarded as dependent upon nature for its maintenance, or as a creativepower whose function is not merely to receive what nature supplies, butto re-shape nature's materials and create a new spiritual world. Receptivity and activity are inseparable, and form together theharmonious rhythm of life. 

But there has ever been a tendency to emphasise one or other of theseaspects. The question has constantly arisen, Which is the more importantfor life--what we receive or what we create? Accordingly two contrastedconceptions of life have appeared--a naturalistic and an idealistic. Under the first we understand those theories which place man in the realmof sense and explain life by material conditions; under the second wegroup such systems as give to life an independent creative power. 

I

NATURALISTIC TENDENCY

1. Naturalism has usually taken three forms, an idyllic or poetic, aphilosophic, and a scientific, of which Rousseau, Feuerbach, and Haeckelmay be chosen as representatives. 

(1) According to Rousseau, man is really a part of nature, {101} and onlyas he conforms to her laws and finds his satisfaction in what she givescan he be truly happy. Nature is the mother of us all, and only as weallow her spirit to pervade and nourish our being do we really live. Thewatchword, 'back to nature' may be said to have given the first impulseto the later call of the 'simple life, ' which has arisen as a protestagainst the luxury, ostentation, and artificiality of modern times. 

(2) The philosophical form of naturalism, as expounded by Feuerbach, inveighs against an idealistic interpretation of life. The author of_The Essence of Christianity_ started as a disciple of Hegel, but soonreversed the Hegelian principle, and pronounced the spiritual world to bea fiction of the mind. Man belongs essentially to the earth, and isgoverned by his senses. Self-interest is his only motive, and egoism hissole law of life. It was only what might be expected, that the ultimateconsequences of this philosophy of the senses should be drawn by adisciple of Feuerbach, Max Stirner, [1] in whose work, _The Individual andHis Property_, the virtues of egoism are extolled, and contempt is pouredupon all disinterestedness and altruism. 

(3) The latest form of naturalism is the scientific or monistic, asrepresented by Haeckel. It may be described as scientific in so far asits author professes to deduce the moral life from biological principles. In the chapter[2] devoted to Ethics in his work, _The Riddle of theUniverse_, his pronouncements upon morality are not scientificallyderived, but simply dogmatically assumed. The underlying principle ofmonism is that the universe is a unity in which no distinction existsbetween the material and the spiritual. In this world as we know itthere reigns only one kind of law, the invariable law of nature. Theso-called spiritual life of man is not an independent realm having itsown rights and aims; it belongs wholly to nature. The moral world is aprovince of the physical, and the key to all the departments of realityis to be found in science {102} alone. The doctrine of evolution isbrought into the service of monism, and the attempt is made to prove thatin the very process of biological development human thought, moralsentiment, and social instincts have been evolved. With a curioussacrifice of consistency, Haeckel does not agree with Feuerbach inexalting egoism to the place of supremacy in the moral life. Herecognises two kinds of duty--duty to self and duty to society. Thesocial sense once created is permanent, and rises to ever-freshdevelopments. But benevolence, like every other obligation, is, according to evolutionary monism, a product evolved from the battle ofexistence. Traced to its source, it has its spring in the physicalorganism, and is but an enlargement of the ego. [3]

The monistic naturalism of Haeckel offers no high ideal to life. ItsEthics is but a glorified egoism. Its dictates never rise above theimpulses derived from nature. But not religion only with its kingdom ofGod, nor morality only with its imperatives, nor art with its power ofidealising the world of nature, but even science itself, with its claimto unify and organise facts, proves that man stands apart from, and ishigher than, the material world. The very existence of such activitiesin the invisible realm renders vain every attempt to reduce the spiritualto the natural, and to make truth, goodness and beauty mere outgrowths ofnature. 

2. On its ethical side naturalism is closely associated with the theoryof life which bears the name of _utilitarianism_--the theory whichregards pleasure or profit as the aim of man. In its most independentform Hedonism can hardly be said to exist now as a reasoned theory. Carried out to its extreme consequences it reduces man to a mere animal. Hence a type of reflective egoism has taken the place of animalgratification, and the idea of ulterior benefit has succeeded to that ofimmediate pleasure. 

The names associated with this theory of morals are those of Hobbes, Bentham, and the two Mills. Hobbes, {103} who preaches undilutedegoism, [4] may be regarded as the father of utilitarianism. But thetitle was first applied to the school of Bentham. [5] Bentham's watchwordwas 'utility' expressed in his famous formula--'The greatest happiness ofthe greatest number. ' While renouncing the abstract ideal of equality, he yet asserted the equal claim of every individual to happiness. In itsdistribution 'each is to count for one, and no one for more than one. 'Hence Bentham insisted upon an exact quantitative calculation of theconsequences of our actions as the only sufficient guide to conduct. Theend is the production of the maximum of pleasure and the minimum of pain. 

J. S. Mill modified considerably the principle of utility by introducingthe doctrine of the qualitative difference in pleasures. [6] While Benthamassumed self-interest as the only motive of conduct, Mill affirmed thepossibility of altruism in the motive as well as in the end or criterionof right actions. [7] Thus the idea of utility was extended to embracehigher moral ends. But the antithesis between the 'self' and the 'other'was not overcome. To introduce the notion of sympathy, as Adam Smith andothers did, is to beg the question. Try as you will, you cannot deducebenevolence from selfishness. The question for the utilitarian mustalways arise, 'How far ought I to follow my natural desires, and how farmy altruistic?' There must be a constant conflict, and he can only be atpeace with himself by striking a balance. The utilitarian must be alegalist. The principle of self-sacrifice does not spring from his innerbeing. Truth, love, sacrifice--all that gives to man his true worth as abeing standing in vital relation to God--are only artificial adaptationsbased on convenience and general advantage. 

3. Evolutionary ethics, as expounded by Spencer and others, thoughemploying utilitarian principles, affords an ampler and more plausibleaccount of life than early {104} Hedonism. [8] The evolutionists haveenriched the idea of happiness by quietly slipping in many ends whichreally belong to the idea of the 'good. ' As the term 'gravitation' wasthe magic word of the eighteenth century, so the word 'evolution' is thetalisman of the present age. It must be admitted that it is a sublimeand fruitful idea. It explains much in nature and history which the oldstatic notion failed to account for. It has a great deal to teach useven in the spiritual sphere. But when applied to life as a whole, andwhen it is assumed to be the sole explanation of moral action, it is aptto rob the will of its initiative and reduce all moral achievements tomerely natural factors in an unfolding drama of life. The soul itself, with all its manifestations and experiences, is treated simply as theresultant and harmonious effect of adaptation to environment. Man isregarded as the highest animal, the most richly specialised organism--thelast of a long series in the development of life, the outstanding featureof which is the acquired power of complete adjustment to the world, ofwhich it is a part. Strictly speaking, there is no room for a personalGod in this mechanical theory of the universe. The world becomesinevitably 'the Be all and the End all. ' Hence, as might be expected, while evolutionary Ethics claims to cover the whole range of this presentlife, it does not pretend to extend into the regions of the hereafter. It is concerned only with what it conceives to be the highest earthlygood--the material and social well-being of mankind. But no theory oflife can be pronounced satisfactory which explains man in terms of thisearth alone. The 'Great Unknown' which Mr. Spencer posits[9] as theultimate source of all power, is a force to be reckoned with; and, knownor unknown, is the mightiest factor in all life's experiences. Man'sspiritual nature in its whole range cannot be treated as of no account. 'The powers of the world to come' have an essential bearing upon human{105} conduct in this world. They shape our thoughts and determine ourideals. Hence any view of life which excludes from consideration thespiritual side of man, and limits his horizon by the things of this earthmust of necessity be inadequate and unsatisfactory. 

4. Closely connected with, and, indeed, arising out of, the evolutionarytheory, another type of thought, prevalent to-day, falls to benoted--_the socialistic tendency_. It is now universally recognised thatthe individual cannot be treated as an isolated being, but only inrelation to society of which he is a part. The emphasis is laid upon thesolidarity of mankind, and man is explained by such social facts asheredity and environment. Marx and Engels, the pioneers of thesocialistic movement, accepted in the fullest sense the scientificdoctrine of evolution. So far from being a mere Utopian dream, Marxcontends that Socialism is the inevitable outcome of the movement ofmodern society. The aim of the agitation is to bring men to a clearconsciousness of a process which is going forward in all countries wherethe modern industrial methods prevail. Democracy must come to itself andassume its rights. The keynote of the past has been the exploitation ofman by man in the three forms of slavery, serfdom, and wage-labour. Thekeynote of the future must be the exploitation of the earth by man_associated to man_. The practical aim of Socialism is that industry isto be carried on by associated labourers jointly owning the means ofproduction. Here, again, the all-pervading ideal is--the general good ofsociety--the happiness of the greatest number. The reduction of all aimsto a common level, the equalising of social conditions, the direction andcontrol of all private interests and personal endeavours, are to be meansto one end--the material good of the community. Socialism is not, however, confined to an agitation for material welfare. The industrialaspect of it is only a phase of a larger movement. On its ethical sideit is the outcome of a strong aspiration after a higher life. [10] Theworld is awakening to {106} the fact that the majority of the humanfamily has been virtually excluded from all participation in man'sinheritance of knowledge and culture. The labouring classes have beenfrom time immemorial sunk in drudgery and ignorance, bearing the burdenof society without sharing in its happiness. It is contended that everyman ought to have an opportunity of making the most of his life andobtaining full freedom for the development of body and mind. The aim tosecure justice for the many, to protect the weak against the strong, tomitigate the fierceness of competition, to bring about a betterunderstanding between capital and labour, and to gain for all a moreelevated and expansive existence, is not merely consistent with, butindispensable to, a true Christian conception of life. But the questionwhich naturally arises is, how this reformation is to be brought about. Never before have so many revolutionary schemes been proposed, and somany social panaceas for a better world set forth. It is, indeed, ahopeful sign of the times that the age of unconcern is gone and thetemper of cautious inaction has yielded to scientific diagnosis andcourageous treatment. It must not be forgotten, however, that theexclusively utilitarian position tends to lower the moral ideal, and thatthe exaggerated emphasis upon the social aspect of life fails to dojustice to the independence of the individual. The tendency of modernpolitical thought is to increase the control of government, and to regardall departments of activity as branches of the state, to be held andworked for the general good of the community. Thus there is a dangerthat the individual may gradually lose all initiative, and life beimpoverished under a coercive mechanical system. 

Socialism in its extreme form might easily become a new kind of tyranny. By the establishment of collectivism, by making the state the sole ownerof all wealth, the sole employer of labour, and the controller of scienceand art, as well as of education and religion, there is a danger ofcrushing the spiritual side of man, and giving to all life and endeavoura merely naturalistic character and content. 

{107}

5. It was inevitable that an exaggerated insistence upon the importanceof society should provoke an equally one-sided emphasis upon the worth ofthe individual, and that as a protest against the demands of Socialismthere should arise a form of subjectivism which aims at completeself-affirmation. 

(1) This tendency has received the name of _aesthetic-individualism_. Asa conception of life it may be regarded as intermediate betweennaturalism and idealism. While rooted in a materialistic view of life, it is moulded in the hands of its best advocates by spiritualaspirations. Its standpoint may be characterised as a theory ofexistence which seeks the highest value of life in the realm of thebeautiful, and which therefore endeavours to promote the supreme good ofthe individual through devotion to art. Not only does the cultivation ofart tend in itself to elevate life by concentrating the soul upon allthat is fairest and noblest in the world, but the best means of enrichingand ennobling life is to regard life itself as a work of art. This viewof existence, it is claimed, widens the scope of experience, and leads usinto ampler worlds of interest and enjoyment. It aims at giving topersonality a rounded completeness, and bringing the manifold powers andpassions of man into harmonious unity. As a theory of life it is notnew. Already Plato, and still more Aristotle, maintained that a true manmust seek his highest satisfaction not in the possession of externalthings, but in the most complete manifestation of his faculties. Individual aestheticism largely animated the Romantic movement of Germanyat the beginning of last century. But probably the best illustration ofit is to be found in Goethe and Schiller; while in our country MatthewArnold has given it a powerful and persuasive exposition. It was the aimof Goethe to mould his life into a work of art, and all his activitiesand poetic aspirations were subordinated to this end. The beautifulharmonious life is the true life, the well-rounded whole from which mustbe banished everything narrow, vulgar, and distasteful, and in which{108} everything fair and noble must find expression. 'Each individual, 'says Schiller, 'is at once fitted and destined for a pure ideal manhood. 'And the attainment of this ideal requires from us the most zealousself-culture and a concentration of effort upon our own peculiargifts. [11]

A new form of aestheticism has lately appeared which pretends to combinemorality and culture. 'The New Ethic, '[12] as it is called, protestsagainst the sombreness of religious traditions and the rigidity of moralrestrictions, and assigns to art the function of emancipating man andidealising life. But what this movement really offers under its newcatchword is simply a subtler form of epicureanism, a finerself-indulgence. It is the expression of a desire to be free from allrestraint, to close one's eyes to the 'majesty of human suffering, 'allowing one's thoughts to dwell only upon the agreeable and gay in life. It regards man as simply the sum-total of his natural inclinations, andconceives duty to be nothing else than the endeavour to bring these intoequilibrium. 

That the aesthetic culture of life is a legitimate element in Christianmorality can hardly be denied by any one who has pondered the meaning inall its breadth of the natural simplicity and spiritual beauty of themanifestation of the Son of Man. The beautiful, the good, and the trueare intimately connected, and constitute together all that is conceivablyhighest in life. Christian Ethics ought to include everything that isgracious and fair; and any theory of life that has no room for joy andbeauty, for laughter and song, for appreciation of artistic or poeticexpression, is surely deficient. But it is one thing to acknowledgethese things; it is another to make them the whole of existence. We livein a world in which much else besides beauty and joy exists, and it isnot by shirking contact with the unlovely phases of experience, but byresolutely accepting the ministry of sorrow they impose, {109} that weattain to our highest selves. The narrow Puritanism of a past age mayneed the corrective of the broader Humanism of to-day, but not less mustthe Ethic of self-culture be reinforced by the Ethic of self-sacrifice. We may not cultivate the beauty of life at the cost of duty, nor forgetthat it is often only through the immolation of self that the self can berealised. 

(2) While the Romantic movement, of which Goethe was the most illustriousrepresentative, did much to enlarge life and ennoble the whole expanse ofbeing, its extreme subjectivism and aristocratic exclusiveness foundultimate expression (_a_) in the pessimism of Schopenhauer, and thearrogance of Nietzsche. The alliance between art and morality wasdissolved. The imagination scorned all fetters and, in its craving fornovelty and contempt of convention, became the organ of individualcaprice and licence. In Nietzsche--that strange erratic genius--at onceartist, philosopher, and rhapsodist--this philosophy of life foundbrilliant if bizarre utterance. If Schopenhauer reduces existence tonothing, and finds in oblivion and extinction its solution, (_b_)Nietzsche seeks rather to magnify life by striking the note of a proudand defiant optimism. He claims for the individual limitless rights;and, repudiating all moral ties, asserts the complete sovereignty of theself-sufficing ego. With a deep-rooted hatred of the prevailingtendencies of civilisation, he combines a vehement desire for a richerand unrestrained development of human power. He would not only revalueall moral values, but reverse all ideas of right and wrong. He wouldsoar 'beyond good and evil, ' declaring that the prevailing judgments ofmankind are pernicious prejudices which have too long tyrannised over theworld. He acknowledges himself to be not a moralist, but an'immoralist, ' and he bids us break in pieces the ancient tables of theDecalogue. Christianity is the most debasing form of slave-morality. Ithas made a merit of weakness and servility, and given the name of virtueto such imbecilities as meekness and self-sacrifice. He calls upon theindividual to exalt himself. The man of {110} the future is to be theman of self-mastery and virile force, 'the Superman, ' who is to crushunder his heel the cringing herd of weaklings who have hitherto possessedthe world. The earth is for the strong, the capable, the few. A mightyrace, self-assertive, full of vitality and will, is the goal of humanity. The vital significance of Nietzsche's radicalism lies less in itspositive achievement than in its stimulating effect. Though his accountof Christianity is a caricature, his strong invective has done much tocorrect the sentimental rose-water view of the Christian faith which hasbeen current in some pietistic circles. The Superman, with all itsvagueness, is a noble, inspiring ideal. The problem of the race is toproduce a higher manhood, to realise which there is need for sacrificeand courage. Nietzsche is the spiritual father and forerunner of theEugenics. The Superman is not born, he is bred. Our passions must beour servants. Obedience and fidelity, self-discipline and courage arethe virtues upon which he insists. 'Be master of life. . . . ' 'I callyou to a new nobility. Ye shall become the procreators and sowers of thefuture. '

While there is much that is suggestive in Nietzsche's scathingcriticisms, and many passages of striking beauty in his books, he isstronger in his denials than his affirmations, and it is the negativeside that his followers have fastened upon and developed. Sudermann, thenovelist, has carried his philosophy of egoism to its extreme. Thiswriter, in a work entitled _Sodom's End_, affirms that there is nothingholy and nothing evil. There is no such thing as duty or love. Onlynerves exist. The 'Superman' becomes a monster. Such teaching canscarcely be taken seriously. It conveys no helpful message. It is theperversion of life's ideal. 

As a passing phase of thought it is interesting, but it solves noproblems; it advances no truths. It resembles a whirlwind which helps toclear the air and drive away superfluous leaves, but it does little toquicken or expand new seeds of life. 

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II

IDEALISTIC TENDENCY

1. Modern Idealism was inaugurated by Kant. Kant's significance forthought lies in his twofold demand for a new basis of knowledge andmorality. He conceived that both are possible, and that both areinterdependent, and have but one solution. The solution, however, couldonly be achieved by a radical change of method, and by the introductionof new standards of value. Kant's theory of morals was an attempt toreconcile the two opposing ethical principles which were current in theeighteenth century. On the one side, the Realists treated man simply asa natural being, and accordingly demanded a pursuance of his naturalimpulses. On the other side, the Dogmatists conceived that conduct mustbe governed by divine sanctions. Both theories agreed in regardinghappiness as the end of life; the one the happiness of sensuousenjoyment; the other, that of divine favour. Both set an end outside ofman himself as the basis of their ethical doctrine. Kant wasdissatisfied with this explanation of the moral life. The question, therefore, which arises is, Whence comes the idea of duty which is anundeniable fact of our experience? If it came merely from without, itcould never speak to us with absolute authority, nor claim unquestioningobedience. That which comes from without depends for its justificationupon some consequence external to our action, and must be based, indeed, upon some excitement of reward or pain. But that would destroy it as amoral good; since nothing can be morally good that is not pursued for itsown sake. Kant, therefore, seeks to show that the law of the moral lifemust originate within us, must spring from an inherent principle of ourown rational nature. Hence the distinctive feature of Kant's moraltheory is the enunciation of the 'Categorical Imperative'--the supremeinner demand of reason. From this principle of autonomy there arise atonce the notions of man's freedom and the law's {112} universality. Self-determination is the presupposition of all morality. But what istrue for one is true for all. Each man is a member of a rational order, and possesses the inalienable independence and the moral dignity of beingan end in himself. Hence the formula of all duty is, 'Act from a maximat all times fit to be a universal law. '

It is the merit of Kant that he has given clear expression to the majestyof the moral law. No thinker has more strongly asserted man's spiritualnature or done more to free the ideal of duty from all individualnarrowness and selfish interest. But Kant's principle of duty laboursunder the defect, that while it determines the form, it tells us nothingof the content of duty. We learn from him the grandeur of the moral law, but not its essence or motive-power. He does not clearly explain what itis in the inner nature of man that gives to obligation its universalvalidity or even its dominating force. As a recent writer truly says, 'In order that morality may be possible at all, its law must be realised_in_ me, but while the way in which it is realised is mine, the contentis not mine; otherwise the whole conception of obligation isdestroyed. '[13] If the soul's function is purely formal how can weattain to a self-contained life? Moreover, if the freedom which Kantassigns to man is really to achieve a higher ideal and bring forth a newworld, must there not be some spiritual power or energy, some dynamicforce, which, while it is within man, is also without, and independentof, him? 'Duty for duty's sake' lacks lifting power, and is the essenceof legalism. Love, after all, is the fulfilling of the law. 

2. To overcome the Kantian abstraction, and give content to the formallaw of reason was the aim of the idealistic writers who succeeded him. Fichte conceived of morality as action--self-consciousness realisingitself in a world of deeds. Hegel started with the _Idea_ as the sourceof all reality, and developed the conception of Personality attainingself-realisation through the growing consciousness of the world and ofGod. Personality involves capacity. The {113} law of life, therefore, is, 'Be a person and respect others as persons. '[14] Man only comes tohimself as he becomes conscious that his life is rooted in a larger self. Morality is just the gradual unfolding of an eternal purpose whose wholeis the perfection of humanity. It has been objected that the idea oflife as an evolutionary process, which finds its most imposing embodimentin the system of Hegel, if consistently carried out, destroys allpersonal motive and self-determining activity, and reduces the history ofthe world to a soulless mechanism. Hegel himself was aware of thisobjection, and the whole aim of his philosophy was to show thatpersonality has no meaning if it be not the growing consciousness of theinfinite. The more recent exponents of his teaching have endeavoured toprove that the individual, so far from being suppressed, is really_expressed_ in the process, that, indeed, while the universal lifeunderlies, unifies, and directs the particular phases of existence, theindividual in realising himself is at the same time determining andevolving the larger spiritual world--a world already implicitly presentin his earliest consciousness and first strivings. The absolute isindeed within us from the very beginning, but we have to work it out. Hence life is achieved through conflict. The universe is not a place forpleasure or apathy. It is a place for soul-making. No rest is to befound by an indolent withdrawal from the world of reality. 'In one wayor another, in labour, in learning, and in religion, every man has hispilgrimage to make, his self to remould and to acquire, his world andsurroundings to transform. . . . It is in this adventure, and not apartfrom it, that we find and maintain the personality which we supposeourselves to possess _ab initio_. '[15] The soul is a world in itself; butit is not, and must not be treated as, an isolated personality imperviousto the mind of others. At each stage of its evolution it is the focusand expression of a larger world. A man does not value himself as adetached subject, but as the {114} inheritor of gifts which are focusedin him. Man, in short, is a trustee for the world; and suffering andprivation are among his opportunities. The question for each is, Howmuch can he make of them? Something above us there must be to make us doand dare and hope, and the important thing is not one's separate destiny, but the completeness of experience and one's contribution to it. [16]

3. It was inevitable that there should arise a reaction against theextreme Intellectualism of Hegel and his school, and that a conception ofexistence which lays the emphasis upon the claims of practical lifeshould grow in favour. The pursuit of knowledge tended to become merelya means of promoting human well-being. 

The first definite attempt to formulate a specific theory of knowledgewith this practical aim in view takes the form of what is known as'Pragmatism. ' The modern use of this term is chiefly connected with thename of the late Professor James, to whose brilliant writings we arelargely indebted for the elucidation of its meaning. 'Pragmatism, ' saysJames, 'represents the empiricist attitude both in a more radical andless objectionable form than it has ever yet assumed. '[17] It agreeswith utilitarianism in explaining practical aspects, and with positivismin disdaining useless abstractions. It claims to be a method rather thana system of philosophy. And its method consists in bringing the pursuitof knowledge into close relationship with life. Nothing is to beregarded as true which cannot be justified by its value for man. Thehypothesis which on the whole works best, which most aptly fits thecircumstances of a particular case, is true. The emphasis is laid not onabsolute principles, but on consequences. We must not consider things asthey are in themselves, but in their reference to the good of mankind. It is useless, for example, to speculate about the existence of God. Ifthe hypothesis of a deity works satisfactorily, if the best resultsfollow for the moral well-being of humanity by believing in a God, {115}then the hypothesis may be taken as true. It is true at least for us. Truth, according to Pragmatism, has no independent existence. It iswholly subjective, relative, instrumental. Its only test is its utility, its workableness. 

This view of truth, though supported by much ingenuity and brilliance, would seem to contradict the very idea of truth, and to be subversive ofall moral values. If truth has no independent validity, if it is notsomething to be sought for itself, irrespective of the inclinations andinterests of man, then its pursuit can bring no real enrichment to ourspiritual being. It remains something alien and external, a merearbitrary appendix of the self. It is not the essence and standard ofhuman life. If its sole test is what is advantageous or pleasant itsinks into a merely utilitarian opinion or selfish bias. 'Truth, ' saysEucken, 'can only exist as an end in itself. Instrumental truth is notruth at all. '[18]

According to this theory, moreover, truth is apt to be broken up into anumber of separate fragments without correlation or integrating unity. There will be as many hypotheses as there are individual interests. Thetruth that seems to work best for one man or one age may not be the truththat serves another. In the collision of opinions who is to arbitrate?If it be the institutions and customs of to-day, the present state ofmorals, that is to be the measure of what is good, then we seem to becommitted to a condition of stagnancy, and involved in the quest of adoubtful gain. 

As might be expected, Professor James's view of truth determines his viewof the world. It is pluralistic, not monistic; melioristic, notoptimistic. It is characteristic of him that when he discusses thequestion, Is life worth living? his answer practically is, 'Yes, if youbelieve it is. ' Pragmatism is put forward as the mediator between twoopposite tendencies, those of 'tender-mindedness' and 'tough-mindedness. ''The tendency to rest in the Absolute is the characteristic mark of thetender-minded; the {116} radically tough-minded, on the other hand, needsno religion at all. '[19] There is something to be said for both of theseviews, James thinks, and a compromise will probably best meet the case. Hence, against these two ways of accepting the universe, he maintains thepragmatic faith which is at once theistic, pluralistic, and melioristic. He accepts a personal power as a workable theory of the universe. ButGod need not be infinite or all-inclusive, for 'all that the factsrequire is that the power should be both other and larger than our commonselves. '[20] Such a conception of God, even on James's own admission, isakin to polytheism. And such polytheism implies a pluralistic view ofthe universe. The invisible order, in which we hope to realise ourlarger life, is a world which does not grow integrally in accordance withthe preconceived plan of a single architect, 'but piecemeal by thecontributions of its several parts. '[21] We make the world to our will, and 'add our fiat to the fiat of the creator. ' With regard to thesupreme question of human destiny Professor James's view is what he calls'melioristic. ' There is a striving for better things, but what theultimate outcome will be, no one can say. For the world is still in themaking. Life is a risk. It has many possibilities. Good and evil areintermingled, and will continue so to be. It is a pluralistic world justbecause the will of man is free, and predetermination is excluded. Ifgood was assured as the final goal of ill, and there was no sense ofventure, no possibility of loss or failure, then life would lackinterest, and moral effort would be shorn of reality and incentive. 

In Professor James's philosophy of life there is much that is originaland stimulating, and it draws attention to facts of experience and modesof thought which we were in danger of overlooking. It has compelled usto consider the psychological bases of personality, and to lay morestress upon the power of the will and individual choice in thedetermining of character and destiny. It is pre-eminently {117} aphilosophy of action, and it emphasises an aspect of life whichintellectualism was prone to neglect--the function of personal endeavourand initiative in the making of the world. It postulates the reality ofa living God who invites our co-operation, and it encourages our beliefin a higher spiritual order which it is within our power to achieve. 

Pragmatism has hitherto made headway chiefly in America and Britain, buton its activistic side it is akin to a new philosophical movement whichhas appeared in France and Germany. The name generally given to thistendency is 'Activism' or 'Vitalism'--a title chosen probably in order toemphasise the self-activity of the personal consciousness directedtowards a world which it at once conquers and creates. The authors ofthis latest movement are the Frenchman, Henri Bergson, and the German, Rudolf Eucken. Differing widely in their methods and even in theirconclusions, they agree in making a direct attack both upon the realismand the intellectualism of the past, and in their conviction that theworld is not a 'strung along universe, ' as the late Professor James putsit, but a world that is being made by the creative power and personalfreedom of man. While Eucken has for many years occupied a position ofcommanding influence in the realm of thought, Bergson has only recentlycome into notice. The publication of his striking work, _CreativeEvolution_, marks an epoch in speculation, and is awakening the interestof the philosophical world. [22]

4. With his passion for symmetry and completeness Bergson has evolved awhole theory of the universe, {118} resorting, strange to say, to a formof reasoning that implies the validity of logic, the instrument of theintellect which he never wearies of impugning. Without entering upon hismerely metaphysical speculations, we fix upon his theory ofconsciousness--the relation of life to the material world--as involvingcertain ethical consequences bearing upon our subject. The idea offreedom is the corner-stone of Bergson's system, and his whole philosophyis a powerful vindication of the independence and self-determination ofthe human will. Life is free, spontaneous, creative and incalculable;determined neither by natural law nor logical sequence. It can breakthrough all causation and assert its own right. It is not, indeed, unrelated to matter, since it has to find its exercise in a materialworld. Matter plays at once, as he himself says, the rôle of obstacleand stimulus. [23] But it is not the world of things which legislates forman; it is man who legislates for it. Bergson's object is to vindicatethe autonomy of consciousness, and his entire philosophy is a protestagainst every claim of determinism to dominate life. By introducing thecreative will before all development, he displaces mechanical force, andmakes the whole evolution of life dependent upon the 'vital impulse'which pushes forward against all obstacles to ever higher and higherefficiency. Similarly, by drawing a distinction between intellect andintuition, he shows that the latter is the truly creative power in manwhich penetrates to the heart of reality and shapes its own world. Intellect and instinct have been developed along divergent lines. Theintellect has merely a practical function. It is related to the needs ofaction. [24] It is the faculty of manufacturing artificial objects, especially tools to make tools. [25] It deals with solids and geometricalfigures, and its instrument is logic. But according to Bergson it has aninherent incapacity to deal with life. [26] When we contrast the rigidityand superficiality of intellect with the fluidity, sympathy and intimacyof intuition, we see at once wherein {119} lies the true creative powerof man. Development, when carried too exclusively along the lines ofintellect, means loss of will-power; and we have seen how, notindividuals alone, but entire nations, may be crushed and destroyed by atoo rigid devotion to mechanical and stereotyped methods of thought. Only life is adequate to deal with life. Let us give free expression tothe intuitive and sympathetic force within us, 'feel the wild pulsationof life, ' if we would conquer the world and come to our own. 'Thespectacle, ' says Bergson, 'of life from the very beginning down to mansuggests to us the image of a current of consciousness which flows downinto matter as into a tunnel, most of whose endeavours to advance . . . Are stopped by a rock that is too hard, but which, in one direction atleast, prove successful, and break out into the light once more. '[27]But there life does not stop. 

 'All tended to mankind, But in completed man begins anew A tendency to God. '[28]

This creative consciousness still pushes on, giving to matter its ownlife, and drawing from matter its nutriment and strength. The effort ispainful, but in making it we feel that it is precious, more preciousperhaps than the particular work it results in, because through it wehave been making ourselves, 'raising ourselves above ourselves. ' And inthis there is the true joy of life--the joy which every creatorfeels--the joy of achievement and triumph. Thus not only is the selfbeing created, but the world is being made--original andincalculable--not according to a preconceived plan or logical sequence, but by the free spontaneous will of man. 

The soul is the creative force--the real productive agent of novelty inthe world. The strange thing is that the soul creates not the worldonly, but itself. Whence comes this mystic power? What is the origin ofthe soul? Bergson does not say. But in one passage he suggests that{120} possibly the world of matter and consciousness have the sameorigin--the principle of life which is the great prius of all that is andis to be. But Bergson's 'élan vital, ' though more satisfactory than thefirst cause of the naturalist, or the 'great unknown' of theevolutionist, or even than some forms of the absolute, is itselfadmittedly outside the pale of reason--inexplicable, indefinable, andincalculable. 

The new 'vitalism' unfolds a living self-evolving universe, a restless, unfinished and never-to-be-finished development--the scope and goal ofwhich cannot be foreseen or explained. An infinite number ofpossibilities open out; which the soul will follow no one can tell; whyit follows this direction rather than that, no one can see. There seemsto be no room here for teleology or purposiveness; and though Bergson hasnot yet worked out the theological and ethical implications of histheory, as far as we can at present say the personality and imminence ofa Divine Being are excluded. Though Bergson never refers to Hegel byname, he seems to be specially concerned in refuting the philosophy ofthe Absolute, according to which the world is conceived as the evolutionof the infinite mind. If 'tout est donné, ' says Bergson, if all is givenbeforehand, 'why do over again what has already been completed, thusreducing life and endeavour to a mere sham. ' But even allowing the forceof that objection, the idea of a 'world in the making, ' though it appealsto the popular mind, is not quite free from ambiguity. In one sense itstates a platitude--a truth, indeed, which is not excluded from anabsolute or teleological conception of life. But if it is implied thatthe world, because it is in process of production, may violate reason andtake some capricious form, the idea is absurdly false, so long as we arewhat we are, and the human mind is what it is. The real must always bethe rational. All enterprise and effort are based on the faith that webelong to a rational world. Though we cannot predict what form the worldwill ultimately take, we can at least be sure that it can assume nocharacter which will {121} contradict the nature of intelligence. Evenin the making of a world, if life has any moral worth and meaning at all, there must be rational purpose. There are creation and initiative in manassuredly, but they must not be interpreted as activities which deviateinto paths of grotesque and arbitrary fancy. Our actions and ideas mustissue from our world. Even a poem or work of art must make its appeal tothe universal mind; any other kind of originality would wholly lack humaninterest and sever all creation and life from their root in human nature. But at least we must acknowledge that Bergson has done to the world ofthought the great service of liberating us from the bonds of matter andthe thraldom of a fatalistic necessity. It is his merit that he haslifted from man the burden of a hard determinism, and vindicated thefreedom, choice, and initiative of the human spirit. If he has nodistinctly Christian message, he has at least disclosed for the soul thepossibility of new beginnings, and has shown that there is room in thespiritual life, as the basis of all upward striving, for change of heartand conversion of life. 

5. In the philosophy of Eucken there is much that is in harmony withthat of Bergson; but there are also important differences. Common toboth is a reaction against formalism and intellectualism. Neither claimsthat we can gain more than 'the knowledge of a direction' in which thesolution of the problem may be sought. It is not a 'given' or finishedworld with which we have to do. 'The triumph of life is expressed bycreation, ' says Eucken, 'I mean the creation of self by self. ' 'We livein the conviction, ' he says again, 'that the possibilities of theuniverse have not yet been played out, [29] but that our spiritual lifestill finds itself battling in mid-flood with much of the world's workstill before us. ' While Bergson confines himself rigidly to themetaphysical side of thought, Eucken is chiefly interested in the ethicaland religious aspects of life's problem. Moreover, while there is anabsence of a distinctly teleological aim in Bergson, the purpose andideal {122} of life are prominent elements in Eucken. Notwithstandinghis antagonism to intellectualism, the influence of Hegel is evident inthe absolutist tendency of his teaching. Life for Eucken isfundamentally spiritual. Self-consciousness is the unifying principle. Personality is the keynote of his philosophy. But we are notpersonalities to begin with: we have the potentiality to become such byour own effort. He bids us therefore forget ourselves, and strive forour highest ideal--the realisation of spiritual personality. The moreman 'loses his life' in the pursuit of the ideals of truth, goodness, andbeauty the more surely will he 'save it. ' He realises himself as apersonality, who becomes conscious of his unity with the universalspiritual life. 

Hence there are two fundamental principles underlying Eucken's philosophywhich give to it its distinguishing character. The first is themetaphysical conception of _a realm of Spirit_--an independent spiritualReality, not the product of the natural man, but communicating itself tohim as he strives for, and responds to, it. This spiritual realityunderlies and transcends the outward world. It may be regarded as anabsolute or universal life--the deeper reality of which all visiblethings are the expression. The second cardinal principle is the_doctrine of Activism_. Life is action. Human duty lies in a world ofstrife. We have to contend for a spiritual life-content. Here Euckenhas much in common with Fichte. [30] But while Fichte starts withself-analysis, and loses sight of error, care, and sin, Eucken startswith actual conflict, and ever retains a keen sense of these hamperingelements. The evil of the world is not to be solved simply by lookingdown upon the world from some superior optimistic standpoint, andpronouncing it very good. The only way to solve it is the practical one, to leave the negative standing, and press on to the deeperaffirmative--the positive truth, that beneath the world of nature thereexists a deeper reality of spirit, of which we become participators bythe freedom and activity of our lives. We are here to acquire a newspiritual world, but {123} it is a world in which the past is taken upand transfigured. Against naturalism, which acquiesces in the presentorder of the universe, and against mere intellectualism, which simplyinvestigates it, Eucken never wearies of protesting. He demands, first, a fundamental cleavage in the inmost being of man, and a deliverance fromthe natural view of things; and he contends, secondly, for a spiritualawakening and an energetic endeavour to realise our spiritual resources. Not by thought but by action is the problem of life to be solved. Hencehis philosophy is not a mere theory about life, but is itself a factor inthe great work of spiritual redemption which gives to life its meaningand aim. 

That which makes Eucken's positive idealism specially valuable is hisapplication of it to religion. Religion has been in all ages the mightyuplifting power in human life. It stands for a negation of the finiteand fleeting, and an affirmation of the spiritual and the eternal. Thisis specially true of the Christian religion. Christianity is the supremetype of religion because it best answers the question, 'What can religiondo for life?' But the old forms of its manifestation do not satisfy usto-day. Christianity of the present fails to win conviction principallyfor three reasons: (1) because it does not distinguish the eternalsubstance of religion from its temporary forms; (2) because it professesto be the final expression of all truth, thus closing the door againstprogress of thought and life; and (3) while emphasising man's redemptionfrom evil, it forgets the elevation of his nature towards good. There isa tendency to depreciate human nature, and to overlook the joyousness oflife. What is needed, therefore, is the expression of Christianity in anew form--a reconstruction which shall emphasise the positiveness, activity, and joy of Christian morality. [31]

While every one must feel the sublimity and inspiration in thisconception of a spiritual world, which it is the task of life to realise, most people will be also conscious of a {124} certain vagueness andelusiveness in its presentation. We are constrained to ask what is thisindependent spiritual life? Is it a personal God, or is it only animpersonal spirit, which pervades and interpenetrates the universe? Theelusive obscurity of the position and function which Eucken assigns tohis central conception of the _Geistes-Leben_ must strike every reader. Even more than Hegel, Eucken seems to deal with an abstraction. Thespiritual life, we are told, 'grows, ' 'divides, ' 'advances'--but itappears to be as much a 'bloodless category' as the Hegelian 'idea, 'having no connection with any living subject. God, the Spirit, mayexist, indeed Eucken says He does, but there is nowhere any indication ofhow the spiritual life follows from, or is the creation of, the DivineSpirit. Our author speaks with so great appreciation of Christianitythat it seems an ungracious thing to find fault with his interpretationof it. Yet with so much that is positive and suggestive, there are alsosome grave omissions. In a work that professes to deal with theChristian faith--_The Truth of Religion_--and which indeed presents apowerful vindication of historical Christianity, we miss anyphilosophical interpretation of the nature and power of prayer, adoration, or worship, or any account, indeed, of the intimacies of thesoul which belong to the very essence of the Christian faith. While heinsists upon the possibility, nay, the necessity, of a new beginning, hefails to reveal the power by which the great decision is made. While heaffirms with much enthusiasm and frankness the need of personal decisionand surrender, he has nothing to say of the divine authority and powerwhich creates our choice and wins our obedience. Nowhere does he showthat the creative redemptive force comes not from man's side, butultimately from the side of God. And finally, his teaching with regardto the person and work of Jesus Christ, notwithstanding its tendersympathy and fine discrimination, does less than justice to theuniqueness and historical significance of the Son of Man. With profoundappreciation and rare beauty of language he depicts the life of Jesus. 'Seldom, ' {125} says a recent writer, 'has the perfect Man been limnedwith so persuasive a combination of strenuous thought and graciousword. '[32] 'He who makes merely a normal man of Jesus, ' he says, 'cannever do justice to His greatness. '[33] Yet while he protests rightlyagainst emptying our Lord's life of all real growth and temptation, andthe claim of practical omniscience for His humanity (conceptions ofChrist's Person surely nowhere entertained by first-class theologians), he leaves us in no manner of doubt that he does not attach a divine worthto Jesus, nor regard Him in the scriptural sense as the Supremerevelation and incarnation of God. And hence, while the peerlessposition of Jesus as teacher and religious genius is franklyacknowledged, and His purity, power, and permanence are extolled--themediatorial and redemptive implicates of His personality are overlooked. 

But when all is said, no one can study the spiritual philosophy of Euckenwithout realising that he is in contact with a mind which has a sublimeand inspiring message for our age. Probably more than any modernthinker, Eucken reveals in his works deep affinities with the centralspirit of Christianity. And perhaps his influence may be all the greaterbecause he maintains an attitude of independence towards dogmatic andorganised Christianity. Professor Eucken does not attempt to satisfy uswith a facile optimism. Life is a conflict, a task, an adventure. Andhe who would engage in it must make the break between the higher and thelower nature. For Eucken, as for Dante, there must be 'the penitence, the tears, and the plunge into the river of Lethe before the newtranscendent love begins. ' There is no evasion of the complexities oflife. He has a profound perception of the contradictions of experienceand the seeming paradoxes of religion. For him true liberty is onlypossible through the 'given, ' through God's provenience and grace:genuine self-realisation is only achievable through a continuousself-dedication to, and {126} incorporation within, the great realm ofspirits; and the Immanence within our lives of the Transcendent. [34]

In styling the tendencies which we have thus briefly reviewednon-Christian, we have had no intention of disparagement. No earnesteffort to discover truth, though it may be inadequate and partial, isever wholly false. In the light of these theories we are able to seemore clearly the relation between the good and the useful, and toacknowledge that, just as in nature the laws of economy and beauty havemany intimate correspondences, so in the spiritual realm the good, thebeautiful, and the true may be harmonised in a higher category of thespirit. We shall see that the Christian ideal is not so muchantagonistic to, as inclusive of, all that is best in the teaching ofscience and philosophy. The task therefore now before us is to interpretthese general conceptions of the highest good in the light of ChristianRevelation--to define the chief end of life according to Christianity. 

[1] Kasper Schmidt, _Der Einzige und sein Eigentum_. 

[2] Haeckel, _op. Cit. _, chap. Xix. 

[3] Haeckel, _op. Cit. _, chap. Xix. P. 140. 

[4] Hobbes' _Leviathan_, chap. Vi. 

[5] Cf. Pringle-Pattison, _Philos. Radicals_, and J. Seth's _Eng. Philosophers_, p. 240. 

[6] _Utilitarianism_, chap. Ii. 

[7] _Idem_, chap. Iii. 

[8] Cf. Spencer, _Data of Ethics_, p. 275; also _Social Statics_. In theformer work an attempt is made to exhibit the biological significance ofpleasure and the relation between egoism and altruism. 

[9] See _First Principles_, p. 166 ff. 

[10] See Kirkup, _An Inquiry into Socialism_, p. 19. 

[11] See Lütgert, _Natur und Geist Gottes_, for striking chapter onGoethe's _Ethik_, p. 121 f. 

[12] Cf. Eucken, _Main Currents of Modern Thought_, p. 401 f. 

[13] Macmillan, _The Crowning Phase of the Critical Philosophy_, p. 28. 

[14] Hegel, _Phil. Of Right_, p. 45. 

[15] Bosanquet, _The Principles of Individuality and Value_. 

[16] Bosanquet, _The Principles of Individuality and Value_. 

[17] _Pragmatism_, p. 51. 

[18] _Main Currents of Thought_, p. 78. 

[19] _Pragmatism_, p. 278 f. ; also _Varieties of Relig. Experience_, p. 525 f. 

[20] _Idem_, p. 299. 

[21] _Idem_, p. 290. 

[22] The writer regrets that the work of the Italian, Benedetto Croce, _Philosophy of the Practical, Economic and Ethic_ (Part II. Of_Philosophy of the Spirit_), came to his knowledge too late to permit aconsideration of its ethical teaching in this volume. Croce is a thinkerof great originality, of whom we are likely to hear much in the future, and whose philosophy will have to be reckoned with. Though independentof others, his view of life has affinities with that of Hegel. Hemaintains the doctrine of development of opposites, but avoids Hegel'sinsistence upon the concept of nature as a mode of reality opposed to thespirit. Spirit is reality, the whole reality, and therefore theuniversal. It has two activities, theoretic and practical. With thetheoretic man understands the universe; with the practical he changes it. The Will is the man, and freedom is finding himself in the Whole. 

[23] _Hibbert Journal_, April 1912. 

[24] _Evol. Creat. _, p. 161. 

[25] _Idem_, p. 146. 

[26] _Idem_, p. 165. 

[27] _Hibbert Journal_. 

[28] Browning. 

[29] _Die Geistigen Strömunyen der Gegenwart_, p. 10. 

[30] Cf. _Problem of Life_. 

[31] Cf. _Life's Basis and Life's Ideal_. 

[32] Hermann, _Bergson und Eucken_, p. 103. 

[33] _The Problem of Life_, p. 152. 

[34] Cf. Von Hügel, _Hibbert Journal_, April 1912. 

{127}

CHAPTER VIII

THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL

The highest good is not uniformly described in the New Testament, andmodern ethical teachers have not always been in agreement as to the chiefend of life. While some have found in the teaching of Jesus the idea ofsocial redemption alone, and have seen in Christ nothing more than apolitical reformer, others have contended that the Gospel is solely amessage of personal salvation. An impartial study shows that both viewsare one-sided. On the one hand, no conception of the life of Jesus canbe more misleading than that which represents Him as a politicalrevolutionist. But, on the other hand, it would be a distinct narrowingof His teaching to assume that it was confined to the aspirations of theindividual soul. His care was indeed primarily for the person. Hisemphasis was put upon the worth of the individual. And it is not toomuch to say that the uniqueness of Jesus' teaching lay in the discoveryof the value of the soul. There was in His ministry a new appreciationof the possibilities of neglected lives, and a hitherto unknown yearningto share their confidence. It would be a mistake, however, to representChrist's regard for the individual as excluding all consideration ofsocial relations. The kingdom of God, as we shall see, had a social andcorporate meaning for our Lord. And if the qualifications for itsentrance were personal, its duties were social. The universalism ofJesus' teaching implied that the soul had a value not for itself alone, but also for others. The assertion, therefore, that the individual has avalue cannot mean that he has a value in isolation. {128} Rather hisvalue can only be realised in the life of the community to which he trulybelongs. The effort to help others is the truest way to reveal thehidden worth of one's own life; and he who withholds his sympathy fromthe needy has proved himself unworthy of the kingdom. 

While the writers of the New Testament vary in their mode of presentingthe ultimate goal of man, they are at one in regarding it as an exaltedform of _life_. What they all seek to commend is a condition of beinginvolving a gradual assimilation to, and communion with, God. Thedistinctive gift of the Gospel is the gift of life. 'I am the Life, 'says Christ. And the apostle's confession is in harmony with hisMaster's claim--'For me to live is Christ. ' Salvation is nothing elsethan the restoration, preservation, and exaltation of life. 

Corresponding, therefore, to the three great conceptions of Life in theNew Testament, and especially in the teaching of Jesus--'Eternal Life, ''the kingdom of God, ' and the perfection of the divine Fatherhood, 'Perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect'--there are three aspects, individual, social, and divine, in which we may view the Christian ideal. 

I

Self-realisation is not, indeed, a scriptural word. But rightlyunderstood it is a true element in the conception of life, and may, wethink, be legitimately drawn from the ethical teaching of the NewTestament. [1] Though the free full development of the individualpersonality as we conceive it in modern times does not receive explicitstatement, [2] still one cannot doubt, that before every man our Lord doespresent the vision of a possible and perfect self. Christianity does notdestroy 'the will to live, ' but only the will to live at all costs. Evenmediaeval piety only inculcated self-mortification as a stage towards ahigher {129} self-affirmation. Christ nowhere condemns the inherentdesire for a complete life. The end, indeed, which each man should placebefore himself is self-mastery and freedom from the world;[3] but it is amastery and freedom which are to be gained not by asceticism but byconquest. Christ would awaken in every man the consciousness of thepriceless worth of his soul, and would have him realise in his own personGod's idea of manhood. 

The ideal of self-realisation includes three distinct elements:

1. _Life as intensity of being_. --'I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. '[4] 'More life and fuller'is the passion of every soul that has caught the vision and heard thecall of Jesus. The supreme good consists not in suppressed vitality, butin power and freedom. Life in Christ is a full, rich existence. Thedoctrine of quietism and indifference to joy has no place in the ethic ofJesus. Life is manifested in inwardness of character, and not in pomp ofcircumstance. It consists not in what a man has, but in what he is. [5]The beatitudes, as the primary qualifications for the kingdom of God, emphasise the fundamental principle of the subordination of the materialto the spiritual, and the contrast between inward and outward good. [6]Self-mastery is to extend to the inner life of man--to dominate thethoughts and words, and the very heart from which they issue. A dividedlife is impossible. The severest discipline, even renunciation, may beneedful to secure that singleness of heart and strenuousness of aim whichare for Jesus the very essence of life. 'Ye cannot serve God andmammon. '[7] In harmony with this saying is the opposition in theJohannine teaching between 'the world' and 'eternal life. '[8] Thequality of life indeed depends not upon anything contingent oraccidental, but upon an intense inward realisation of blessedness inChrist in comparison with which even {130} the privations and sufferingsof this world are but as a shadow. [9] At the same time life is not amere negation, not simply an escape from evil. It is a positive good, the enrichment and intensifying of the whole being by the indwelling of anew spiritual power. 'For me to live is Christ, ' says St. Paul. 'Thisis life eternal, ' says St. John, 'that they may know Thee the only trueGod, and Him whom Thou didst send, even Jesus Christ. '[10]

2. _Life as Expansion of Personality_. --By its inherent power it growsoutwards as well as inwards. The New Testament conception of life isexistence in its fullest expression and fruitfulness. The ideal aspresented by Christ is no anaemic state of reverie or ascetic withdrawalfrom human interest. It is by the elevation and consecration of thenatural life, and not by its suppression, that the 'good' is to berealised. The natural life is to be transformed, and the very bodypresented unto God as a living sacrifice. [11] So far from Christianitybeing opposed to the aim of the individual to find himself in a world oflarger interests, it is only in the active and progressive realisation ofsuch a life that blessedness consists. Herein is disclosed, however, thedefect of the modern ideal of culture which has been associated with thename of Goethe. In Christ's ideal self-sufficiency has no place. Whilerightly interpreted the 'good' of life includes everything that enrichesexistence and contributes to the efficiency and completeness of manhood, mere self-culture and artistic expression are apt to become pervertedforms of egoism, if not subordinated to the spirit of service which alonecan give to the human faculties their true function and exercise. Hencelife finds its real utterance not in the isolated development of theself, but in the fullness of personal relationships. Only in response tothe needs of others can a man realise his own life. In answer to theyoung ruler who asked a question 'concerning that which is good, ' Christreplied, 'If thou wilt enter into life keep the {131} commandments'; andthe particular duties He mentioned were those of the second table of theDecalogue. [11] The abundance of life which Christ offers consists in themutual offices of love and the interchange of service. Thusself-realisation is attained only through self-surrender. [13] Theself-centred life is a barren life. Not by withholding our seed but byflinging it forth freely upon the broad waters of humanity do we attainto that rich fruition which is 'life indeed. '

3. _Life as Eternal Good_. --Whatever may be the accurate significationof the word 'eternal, ' the words 'eternal life, ' regarded as the ideal ofman, can mean nothing else than life at its highest, the fulfilment ofall that personality has within it the potency of becoming. In one sensethere is no finality in life. 'It seethes with the morrow for us moreand more. ' But in another sense, to say that the moral life is neverattained is only a half truth. It is always being attained because it isalways present as an active reality evolving its own content. In Christwe have 'eternal life' now. It is not a thing of quantity but ofquality, and is therefore timeless. 

 'We live in deeds not years, in thoughts not breaths, In feelings, not in figures on a dial. '[14]

He who has entered into fellowship with God has within him now theessence of 'life eternal. '

But the conception of life derived from, and sustained by, God involvesthe idea of immortality. 'No work begun shall ever pause for death. '[15]To live in God is to live as long as God. The spiritual man pursues hisway through conflict and achievement towards a higher and yet a highergoal, ever manifesting, yet ever seeking, the infinite that dwells inhim. All knowledge and quest and endeavour, nay existence itself, wouldbe a mockery if man had 'no forever. ' Scripture corroborates theyearnings of the heart and represents life as a growing good which is toattain to ever higher reaches and fuller realisations in the world to{132} come. It is the unextinguishable faith of man that the future mustcrown the present. No human effort goes to waste, no gift is delusive;but every gift and every effort has its proper place as a stage in theendless process. [16]

 'There shall never be lost one good! What was shall live as before. '[17]

II

The foregoing discussion leads naturally to the second aspect of thehighest Good, the Ideal in its social or corporate form--_the kingdom ofGod_. Properly speaking, there is no such thing as an individual. Asbiologically man is only a member of a larger organism, so ethically hecan only realise himself in a life of brotherhood and service. It isonly within the kingdom of God and by recognition of its social relationsthat the individual can attain to his own blessedness. Viewed in thelight of the mutual relation of its members the kingdom is a brotherhoodin which none is ignored and all have common privileges andresponsibilities; viewed in the light of its highest good it is theentire perfection of the whole--a hierarchy of interests subordinated to, and unified by, the sovereignty of the good in the person of God. [18]

1. By reason of its comprehensiveness the doctrine of the kingdom hasbeen regarded by many as the most general conception of the ideal ofJesus. 'In its unique and unapproachable grandeur it dwarfs all thelesser heights to which the prophetic hopes had risen, and remains tothis day the transcendent and commanding ideal of the possible exaltationof our humanity. '[19] The principles implicitly contained in theteaching of Jesus concerning the kingdom have become the commonpossessions of mankind, and are moulding the thoughts and institutions ofthe civilised world. Kant's theory of a kingdom of ends, Comte's idea ofHumanity, and the modern conceptions of scientific and {133} historicalevolution are corroborative of the teaching of the New Testament. Withinits conception men have found room for the modern ideas of social andeconomic order, and under its inspiration are striving for a fullerrealisation of the aspirations and hopes of humanity. [20]

Though frequently upon His lips the phrase did not originate with Jesus. Already the Baptist had employed it as the note of his preaching, andeven before the Baptist it had a long history in the annals of the Jewishpeople. Indeed the entire story of the Hebrews is coloured by thisconception, and in the days of their decline it is the idea of therestoration of their nation as the true kingdom of God that dominatestheir hopes. When earthly institutions did not fulfil their promise, andnothing could be expected by natural means, hope became concentrated uponsupernatural power. Thus before Jesus appeared there had grown up a massof apocalyptic literature, the object of which was to encourage thenational expectation of a sudden and supernatural coming of the kingdomof heaven. Men of themselves could do nothing to hasten its advent. They could only wait patiently till the set time was accomplished, andGod stretched forth His mighty hand. [21]

A new school of German interpretation has recently arisen, the aim ofwhich is to prove that Jesus was largely, if not wholly, influenced bythe current apocalyptic notions of His time. Jesus believed, it is said, in common with the popular sentiment of the day, that the end of theworld was at hand, and that at the close of the present dispensationthere would come suddenly and miraculously a new order into which wouldbe gathered the elect of God. Johannes Weiss, the most pronouncedadvocate of this view, maintains that Jesus' teaching is entirelyeschatological. The kingdom is supramundane and still to come. Jesusdid not inaugurate it; He only predicted its advent. Consequently thereis no Ethics, strictly so called, in His {134} preaching; there is onlyan Ethic of renunciation and watchfulness[22]--an _Interimsethik_. 

The whole problem resolves itself into two crucial questions: (1) DidJesus expect a gradual coming of the kingdom, or did He conceive of it asbreaking in suddenly by the immediate act of God? and (2) Did Jesusregard the kingdom as purely future, or as already begun?

In answer to the first question, while there are undoubtedly numerous andexplicit sayings, too much neglected in the past and not to be whollyexplained by mere orientalism, suggesting a sudden and miraculous coming, these must be taken in connection with the many other passages implying agradual process--passages of deep ethical import which seem to colour ourLord's entire view of life and its purposes. And in answer to the secondquestion, while there are not a few utterances which certainly point to afuture consummation, these are not inconsistent with the immediateinauguration and gradual development of the kingdom. 

A full discussion of this subject is beyond the scope of this volume. [23]There are, however, two objections which may be taken to the apocalypticinterpretation of Christ's teaching as a whole. (1) As presented by itsmost pronounced champions, this view seems to empty the person andteaching of Jesus of their originality and universality. It tends toreduce the Son of Man to the level of a Jewish rhapsodist, whose wholefunction was to encourage His countrymen to look away from the presentscene of duty to some future state of felicity, which had no connectionwith the world of reality, and no bearing upon their present character. It would be surely a caricature to interpret the religion of the NewTestament from this standpoint alone to the exclusion of those directlyethical and spiritual {135} principles in which its originality chieflyappeared, and on which its permanence depends. [24] As Bousset[25] pointsout, not renunciation but joy in life is the characteristic thing inJesus' outlook. He does not preach a gloomy asceticism, but proclaims anew righteousness and a new type of duty. He recognises the worth of thepresent life, and teaches that the world's goods are not in themselvesbad. He came as a living man into a dead world, and by inculcating aliving idea of God and proclaiming the divine Fatherhood gave a newdirection and inner elevation to the expectations of His age, showing thetrue design of God's revelation and the real meaning of the propheticutterances of the past. To interpret the kingdom wholly from aneschatological point of view would involve a failure to apprehend thespiritual greatness of the personality with which we are dealing. [26](2) This view virtually makes Christ a false prophet. For, as a matterof fact, the sudden and catastrophic coming of the kingdom as predictedby the Hebrew apocalyptics did not take place. On the contrary thekingdom of God came not as the Jews expected in a sudden descent from theclouds, but in the slow and progressive domination of God over the soulsand social relationships of mankind. In view of the whole spirit ofJesus, His conception of God, and His relation to human life, as well asthe attitude of St. Paul to the Parousia, it is critically unsound todeny that Jesus believed in the presence of the kingdom in a real senseduring His lifetime. [27]

2. If this conception of the kingdom of God be correct we may nowproceed to regard it under three aspects, Present, Progressive, andFuture--as a _Gift_ immediately bestowed by Jesus, as a _Task_ to beworked out by man in the history of the world, and as a _Hope_ to beconsummated by God in the future. 

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(1) _The Kingdom as a Present Reality_. --After what has been already saidit will not be necessary to dwell upon this aspect. It might besupported by direct sayings of our Lord. [28] But the whole tenor andatmosphere of the Gospels, the uniqueness of Christ's personality, Hisclaim to heal disease and forgive sin, as well as the conditions ofentrance, imply clearly that in Jesus' own view the kingdom was an actualfact inaugurated by Him and obtaining its meaning and power from His ownperson and influence. Obviously He regarded Himself as the bearer of anew message of life, and the originator of a new reign of righteousnessand love which was to have immediate application. Christ came to makeGod real to men upon the earth, and to win their allegiance to Him atonce. No one can fail to recognise the lofty idealism of the Son of Man. He carries with Him everywhere a vision of the perfect life as it existsin the mind of God, and as it will be realised when these earthly sceneshave passed away; yet it would be truer to say that His interests were in'first things' rather than in 'last things, ' and would be more justlydesignated Protology than Eschatology. [29] His mission, so far fromhaving an iconoclastic aim, was really to 'make all things new. ' He wasconcerned with the initiation of a new religion, therefore with amovement towards a regeneration of society which would be virtually areign of God in the hearts of men. 'The kingdom of God is within you. 'Not in some spot remote from the world, some beautiful land beyond theskies, but in the hearts and homes, in the daily pursuits and commonrelationships of life must God rule. The beatitudes, while theyundoubtedly refer to a future when a fuller realisation of them will beenjoyed, have a present reference as well. They make the promise of thekingdom a present reality dependent upon the inner state of therecipients. Not in change of environment but in change {137} of heartdoes the kingdom consist. The lowly and the pure in heart, the mercifuland the meek, the seekers after righteousness and the lovers of peaceare, in virtue of their disposition and aspiration, already members. 

(2) The kingdom as a _gradual development_. --The inward gift prescribesthe outward task. It is a power commanding the hearts of men andrequiring for its realisation their response. It might be argued thatthis call to moral effort presented to the first Christians was not asummons to transform the present world, but to prepare themselves for thedestiny that awaited them in the coming age. [30] It is true thatwatchfulness, patience, and readiness are among the great commands of theNew Testament. [31] But admitting the importance of these requirements, they do not militate against the view that Christians were to work forthe betterment of the world. Christ did not look upon the world ashopeless and beyond all power of reclaiming; nor did He regard His own orHis disciples' ministry within it as without real and positive effects. While His contemporaries were expecting some mighty intervention thatwould suddenly bring the kingdom ready-made from heaven, He saw itgrowing up silently and secretly among men. He took his illustrationsfrom organic life. Its progress was to be like the seed hidden in theearth, and growing day and night by its own inherent germinating force. The object of the parables of the sower, the tares, the mustard seed, theleaven, was to show that the crude catastrophic conception of the comingof the kingdom must give place to the deeper and worthier idea ofgrowth--an idea in harmony with the entire economy of God's working inthe world of nature. In the parable of the fruit-bearing earth Jesusshows His faith in the growth of the good, and hence in the adaptation ofthe truth to the human soul. In the parables of the leaven, the light, and salt Jesus illustrates the gradual power of truth to pervade, illumine, and purify the life of humanity. His method of bringing aboutthis {138} good is the contagion of the good life. His motive is thesense of the need of men. And His goal is the establishment of thekingdom of love--a kingdom in which all the problems of ambition, wealth, and the relationships of the family, of the industrial sphere, and of thestate, are to be transfigured and spiritualised. [32]

It is surely no illegitimate application of the mind of Christ if we seein His teaching concerning the kingdom a great social ideal to berealised by the personal activities and mutual services of its citizens. It finds its field and opportunity in the realm of human society, and isa good to be secured in the larger life of humanity. This ideal, thoughonly dimly perceived by the early Church, has become gradually operativein the world, and has been creative of all the great liberating movementsin history. It lay behind Dante's vision of a spiritual monarchy, andhas been the inspiring motive of those who, in obedience to Christ, havewrought for the uplifting of the hapless and the down-trodden. It hasbeen the soul of all mighty reformations, and is the source of thatconception of a new social order which has begun to mean so much for ourgeneration. 

Loyalty to the highest and love for the lowest--love to God andman--these are the marks of the men of all ages who have sought tointerpret the mind of Christ. Mutual service is the law of the kingdom. Every man has a worth for Christ, therefore reverence for the personalityof man, and the endeavour to procure for each full opportunity of makingthe most of his life, are at once the aim and goal of the new spiritualsociety of which Christ laid the foundations in His own life andministry. Everything that a man is and has, talents and possessions ofevery kind, are to be used as instruments for the promotion of thekingdom of God. 

 'For life, with all it yields of joy and woe, And hope and fear . . . Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love. '

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(3) But though the reign of God has begun, it has _yet to beconsummated_. --There is not wanting in the New Testament an element offuturity and expectancy not inconsistent with, but rather complementaryto, the notion of gradual development. The eschatological teaching ofJesus has its place along with the ethical, and may be regarded not asannulling, but rather reinforcing the moral ideals which Heproclaimed. [33] There is nothing pessimistic in Christ's outlook. Histeaching concerning the last things, while inculcating solemnity andearnestness of life as become those to whom has been entrusted a highdestiny, and who know not at what hour they may be called to give anaccount of their stewardship, [34] bids men look forward with certaintyand hope to a glorious consummation of the kingdom. Though many of ourLord's sayings with regard to His second coming are couched in figurativelanguage, we cannot believe that He intended to teach that the kingdomitself was to be brought about in a spectacular or material way. He bidsHis disciples take heed lest they be deceived by a visible Christ, or ledaway by merely outward signs. [35] His coming is to be as 'the lightningwhich cometh out of the east and shineth even unto the west'[36]--anemblem not so much of suddenness as of illuminating and convincing, andespecially, of progressive force. Not in a visible reign or personalreturn of the Son of Man does the consummation of the kingdom consist, but in the complete spiritual sovereignty of Christ over the hearts andminds of men. When the same love which He Himself manifested in His lifebecomes the feature of His disciples; when His spirit of service andsacrifice pervades the world, and the brotherhood of man and thefederation of nations everywhere prevail; then, indeed, shall the sign ofthe Son of Man appear in the heavens, and then shall the tribes of {140}the earth see Him coming in the clouds with power and glory. [37]

Jesus does not hesitate to say that there will be a final judgment and aningathering of the elect from all quarters of the earth. [38] There willbe, as the parable of the Ten Virgins suggests, a division and a shutdoor. [39] But punishment will be automatic. Sin will bring its ownconsequences. Those only will be excluded at the last who even now areexcluding themselves. For Christ is already here, and is judging theworld every day. By the common actions of their present life men arebeing tried; and that which will determine their final relation to Christwill not be their mere perception of His bodily presence, but their moraland spiritual likeness to Him. 

Amidst the imperfections of the present men have ever looked forward tosome glorious consummation, and have lived and worked in the faith of it. 'To the prophets of Israel it was the new age of righteousness; to theGreek thinkers the world of pure intelligible forms; to Augustine andDante the holy theocratic state; to the practical thought of our own timethe renovated social order. Each successive age will frame its ownvision of the great fulfilment; but all the different ideals can findtheir place in the message of the kingdom which was proclaimed byJesus. '[40]

There is thus opened to our vision a splendid conception of the future ofhumanity. It stands for all that is highest in our expectations becauseit is already expressive of all that is best in our present achievementsand endeavours. The final hope of mankind requires for its fulfilment aprogressive moral discipline. Only as Christ's twofold command--love toGod and love to man--is made the all-pervasive rule of men's lives willthe goal of a universally perfected humanity be attained. 

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III

The chief good may be regarded finally in its _divine_ aspect--as theendeavour after God-likeness. In this third form of the ideal the twoothers--the personal and the social--are harmonised and completed. Torealise the perfect life as it is revealed in the character and will ofGod is the supreme aim of man, and it embraces all that is conceivablyhighest for the individual and for humanity as a whole. This aspirationfinds its most explicit expression in the sublime word of Christ--'Be yeperfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect. '[41] This commandment, unlike so many generalisations of duty, is no cold abstraction. It ispervaded with the warmth of personality and the inspiration of love. Inthe idea of Fatherhood both a standard and motive are implied. BecauseGod is our Father it is at once natural and possible for us to be likeHim. He who would imitate another must have already within him somethingof that other. As there is a community of nature which makes it possiblefor the child to grow into the likeness of its parent, so there is akinship in man with God to which our Lord here appeals. 

1. Among the ethical qualities of divine perfection set forth inscripture for man's imitation _Holiness_ stands preeminent. God, theperfect being, is the type of holiness, and men are holy in proportion astheir lives are Godlike. This conception of holiness is fundamental inthe Old Testament. It is summed up in a command almost identical withthat of our Lord: 'Be ye holy, for I am holy. '[42] Holiness, asChristianity understands it, is the name for the undimmed lustre of God'sethical perfection. God is 'the Holy one'--the alone 'good' in theabsolute sense. [43]

If God's character consists in 'Holiness, ' then that quality determinesthe moral end of man. But holiness, as the most comprehensive name forthe divine moral perfection--the pure white light of God's Being--breaksup into the {142} separate rays which we designate the special moralattributes. These have been grouped under 'Righteousness' (truth, faithfulness, justice, zeal, etc. ), and 'Love' (goodness, pity, mercy, etc. ), though they are really but expressions of one individual life. [44]

2. In the New Testament _Righteousness_ is almost equivalent toholiness. It is the attribute of God which determines the nature of Hiskingdom and the condition of man's entrance into it. As comprisingobedience to the will of God and the fulfilment of the moral law, it isthe basal and central conception of the Christian ideal. [45] It is thekeynote of the Pauline Epistles. Life has a supreme sacredness for Paulbecause the righteousness of God is its end. While righteousness is thedistinctive note of the Pauline conception, it is also fundamental in theEthics of Jesus. It is the ruling thought in the Sermon on the Mount. To be righteous for Jesus simply means to be right and true--to be as oneought to be. But human standards are insufficient. A man must order hislife by the divine standard. Jesus is as emphatic as any Old Testamentprophet in insisting upon the need of absolute righteousness. That, forall who would share in the kingdom of the good, is to be their ideal--theobject of their hunger and thirst. It is a 'good' which is essential tothe very satisfaction and blessedness of the soul. [46] It is the supremedesire of the man who would be at peace with God. It involves poverty ofspirit, for only those who are emptied of self are conscious of theirneed. They who, in humility and meekness, acknowledge their sins, are inthe way of holiness and are already partakers of the divine nature. 

Christ's teaching in regard to righteousness has both a negative and apositive aspect. It was inevitable that He should begin with a criticismof the morality inculcated by the leaders of His day. The characteristicfeature of Pharisaism was, as Christ shows, its _externalism_. If a manfulfilled the outward requirements of the law he was {143} regarded asholy, by himself and others, whatever might be the state of his hearttowards God. This outwardness tended to create certain vices ofcharacter. Foremost amongst these were (1) _Vanity_ or Ostentation. Toappear well in the opinion of others was the aim of pharisaic conduct. Along with ostentation appears (2) _Self-complacency_. Flattery leads toself-esteem. He who loves the praise of man naturally begins to praisehimself. As a result of self-esteem arises (3) _Censoriousness_, sincehe who thinks well of himself is apt to think ill of others. As a systemPharisaism was wanton hypocrisy--a character of seeming righteousness, but too often of real viciousness. 

But Christ came not to destroy but to fulfil the law. [47] His aim was toproclaim the true principles of righteousness in contrast to the currentnotions of it. This He proceeds to do by issuing the law in its idealand perfected form. [48] Hence Jesus unfolds its _positive_ content bybringing into prominence the virtues of the godly character as opposed tothe pharisaic vices. _Modesty_ and _humility_ are set over againstostentation and self-righteousness. [49] _Single-minded sincerity_ iscommended in opposition to hypocrisy. [50] The vice of censoriousness ismet by the duty of _self-judgment_ rather than the judgment of others. [51]

The two positive features of the new law of righteousness as expounded byJesus are--_inwardness_ and _spontaneity_. The righteousness of theGospel, so far from being laxer or easier of fulfilment, was actually toexceed that of the Pharisees:[52] (_a_) in _depth and inwardness_. It isnot enough not to kill or steal or commit adultery. These commandmentsmay be outwardly kept yet inwardly broken. Something more radical isexpected of the man who has set before him the doing of God's will, arighteousness not of appearance but of reality. (_b_) In _freedom andspontaneity_. It is to have its spring in the heart. It is to be arighteousness not of servile obedience, but of willing devotion. The aimof life is no longer the painful effort of the bondsman who {144} strivesto perform a distasteful task, but the gladsome endeavour of the son whoknows and does, because he loves, his father's will. In the Ethics ofthe Christian life there is no such thing as mere duty; for a man neverfulfils his duty till he has done more than is legally required of him. 'Whosoever shall compel you to go with him one mile, go with himtwain. '[53] The 'nicely calculated less or more' is alien to the spiritof him who would do God's will. Love is the fulfilling of the law, andlove knows nothing of limits. 

3. Thus the holiness of God is manifested not in righteousness only, butin the attribute of Love. The human mind can attain to no higherconception of the divine character than that which the word 'love'suggests. The thought is the creation of Christianity. It was thespecial contribution of one of the innermost circle of Jesus' disciplesto give utterance to the new vision of the divine nature which Christ haddisclosed--'God is love. '[54] In our Lord's teaching the centre ofgravity is entirely changed. The Jewish idea of God is enriched with afuller content. He is still the Holy One, but the sublimity of Hisrighteousness, though fully recognised, is softened by the gentlerradiance of love. [55] Jehovah the Sovereign is revealed as God theFather. Divine righteousness is not simply justice, but goodnessmanifested in far-reaching activities of mercy and pity and benevolence. A new note is struck in the Ethics of Jesus. A new relationship isestablished between God and man--a personal filial relationship whichentirely alters man's conception of life. To be perfect as our Father inheaven is perfect, to be, and embody in life all that love means, that isthe sublime aim which Jesus in His own person and teaching sets beforethe world. As God's love is universal, and His care and compassionworld-wide, so, says Christ, not by retaliation or even by theperformance of strict justice, but in loving your enemies, in returninggood for evil and extending your acts of helpfulness and charity to those'who know not, care not, think {145} not, what they do, ' shall ye becomethe children of your Father, and realise something of that divine patternof every man which has been shown him on the holy mount. 

If the view presented in this chapter of the ethical ideal ofChristianity be correct, then the doctrine of an _Interims-ethik_advocated by modern eschatologists must be pronounced unsatisfactory as acomplete account of the teaching of Jesus. [56] The three features whichstand out most clearly in the Ethics of Christ are, Absoluteness, Inwardness, and Universality. It is an ideal for man as man, for alltime, and for all men. The personality of God represents the highestform of existence we know; and the love of God is the sublimest attributewe can conceive. But because God is our Father there is a kinshipbetween the divine and the human; and no higher or grander vision of lifeis thinkable than to be like God--to share that which is most distinctiveof the divine Fatherhood--His love of all mankind. Hence Godlikenessinvolves Brotherhood. [57] In the ideal of love--high as God, broad asthe world--the other aspects of the chief good, the individual and thesocial, are harmonised. In Christian Ethics, the problem of philosophyhow to unite the one and the many, egoism and altruism, has beenpractically solved. The individual realises his life only as he findshimself in others; and this he can only do as he finds himself in God. The first and last word of all morality and religion is summed up inChrist's twofold law of love: 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with allthy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind; and thou shaltlove thy neighbour as thyself. '[58]

[1] Cf. Troeltsch, _Die Sociallehren d. Christl. Kirchen_, vol. I. P. 37, where the idea of self-worth and self-consecration is worked out. 

[2] Wernle, _Beginnings of Christianity_, vol. I. P. 76. 

[3] Wernle, _Beginnings of Christianity_, pp. 76 f. 

[4] John x. 10. 

[5] Luke xii. 15, 16. 

[6] Matt. V. 

[7] Matt. Vi. 24. 

[8] 1 John ii. 15. 

[9] Luke x. 21; Matt. Xi. 28-30; Mark viii. 35; John iii. 15, x. 28, xvii. 2. 

[10] John xvii. 3. 

[11] Rom. Xii. 1. 

[12] Matt. Xix. 17. 

[13] Luke xvii. 33; John xii. 25. 

[14] Bailey, _Festus_. 

[15] Browning. 

[16] Jones, _Browning as a Philosophical and Religious Teacher_, p. 354. 

[17] Abt Vogler. 

[18] Cf. Balch, _Introd. To the Study of Christian Ethics_, p. 150. 

[19] Newman Smyth, _Christian Ethics_, p. 97. 

[20] Balch, _Introd. To the Study of Christian Ethics_, p. 150. 

[21] See Apocalypses of Baruch, Esdras, Enoch, and Pss. Of Solomon, andalso Daniel and Ezekiel. Cf. E. F. Scott, _The Kingdom and the Messiah_, for Apoc. Literature. 

[22] J. Weiss, _Die Predigt Jesu vom Reiche Gottes_. Cf. Also Wernle, _Die Anfänge unsurer Religion_, who is not so pronounced. Boussetrejects this view, and Titius, in his _N. T. Doctrine of Blessedness_, regards the kingdom of God as a present good. See also Moffatt, _TheTheology of the Gospels_. 

[23] Cf. Dobschütz, _The Eschatology of the Gospels_, also Schweitzer, _op. Cit. _, and Sanday, _The Life of Christ in Recent Research_, E. Scott, _The Kingdom of God and the Messiah_, and Moffatt, _op. Cit. _

[24] Cf. Barbour, _A Philos. Study of Chr. Ethics_, p. 184. 

[25] 'Jesu predigt in ihrem Gegensatz zum Judenthum. '

[26] Cairns, _Christianity in the Mod. World_, p. 173. See Schweitzer, _The Quest of the Historical Jesus_, for advocates and opponents of thisview, pp. 222 ff. Cf. Also Troeltsch, _op. Cit. _, vol. I. P. 35. 

[27] Cf. Moffatt, _op. Cit. _

[28] Luke iv. 21, xvii. 21; Matt. Xii. 28, xi. 2-8, xi. 20; Luke xvi. 16. Cf. Also Matt. Xiii. 16-17. 

[29] Our Lord never uses the word 'final' or 'last' of anythingconcerning the kingdom. Only in the fourth Gospel do we find the phrase'the last day. ' See art. , _Contemporary Review_, Sept. 1912. 

[30] The view of Weiss. 

[31] Luke xii. 19; Matt xxiv. 13; Mark xiii. 13; 2 Tim. Ii. 12. 

[32] King, _The Ethics of Jesus_, p. 143. 

[33] Mark xiii. 7-31 has been called the 'little Apocalypse' and thehypothesis has been thrown out that a number of verses (fifteen in all)form a document by themselves, 'a fly leaf put into circulation beforethe fall of Jerusalem, and really incorporated by the Evangelist himself. See Sanday, art. , _Hibbert Journal_, Oct. 1911, and _Life of Christ inRecent Research_. 

[34] Matt. Xxiv. 42. 

[35] Matt. Xxiv. 23. 

[36] Matt. Xxiv. 27. 

[37] Matt. Xxiv. 30. 

[38] Matt. Xxiv. 31. 

[39] Matt. Xxv. 

[40] E. F. Scott, _The Kingdom and the Messiah_, p. 256. 

[41] Matt. V. 48. 

[42] Lev. Iv. 11, xix. 2. 

[43] Mark x. 18. 

[44] Cf. Orr, _Sin as a Problem of To-day_, chap. Iii. 

[45] Cf. Jacoby, _Neu-testamentliche Ethik_, p. 1. 

[46] Matt. V. 3 f. 

[47] Matt. V. 17. 

[48] Matt. V. 18. 

[49] Matt. Vi. 1-6. 

[50] Matt. Vi. 16-18. 

[51] Matt. Vii. 1-5. 

[52] Matt. V. 20. 

[53] Matt. V. 41. 

[54] 1 John iv. 8, 16. 

[55] John xvii. 11; Heb. X. 31; Rev. Xv. 4. 

[56] Cf. E. Digges La Touche, _The Person of Christ in Modern Thought_, pp. 150 ff. 

[57] 1 John iv. 21. 

[58] Matt. Xxii. 37. 

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CHAPTER IX

THE STANDARD AND MOTIVE OF THE NEW LIFE

In every system of Ethics the three ideas of End, Norm, and Motive areinseparable. Christian Ethics is unique in this respect that it presentsnot merely a code of morals, but an ideal of good embodied in a personwho is at once the pattern and inspiration of the new life. In thischapter we propose to consider these two elements of the good. 

_Christ as Example_. --The value of 'concrete examples' has beenfrequently recognised in non-Christian systems. In the 'philosopherking' of Plato, the 'expert' of Aristotle, and the 'wise man' of theStoics we have the imaginary embodiment of the ideal. A similar tendencyis apparent in modern theories. Comte invests the abstract idea of'Humanity' with certain personal perfections for which he claims homage. But what other systems have conceived in an imaginative form only, Christianity has realised in an actual person. 

The example of Christ is not a separate source of authority independentof His teaching, but rather its witness and illustration. Word and deedin Jesus are in full agreement. He was what He taught, and every truthHe uttered flowed directly from His inner nature. He is the prototypeand expression of the 'good' as it exists in the mind of God, as well asthe perfect representative and standard of it in human life. In Him ismanifested for all time what is meant by the good. 

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1. If Christ is the normative standard of life it is extremely importantto obtain a true perception of Him as He dwelt among men. But too oftenhave theology and art presented a Christ embellished with fantasticcolours or obscured by abstract speculations. Recently, however, therehas been a revival of interest in the actual life of Jesus. Men areturning wistfully to the life of the Master for guidance in practicalmatters, and it is beginning to dawn upon the world that the highestideals of manhood were present in the Carpenter of Nazareth. We musttherefore go back to the Gospels if we would know what manner of manJesus was. The difficulty of presenting the Man Christ Jesus as theeternal example to the world must have been almost insurmountable; and weare at once struck with two remarkable features of the synoptics'portrayal of Him. (1) The writers make no attempt to produce a work ofart. They never dream that they are drawing a model for all men to copy. There is no effort to touch up or tone down the portrait. They simplyreflect what they see without admixture of colours of their own. Hencethe paradox of His personality--the intense humanness and yet the mysteryof godliness ever and anon shining through the commonest incidents of Hislife. (2) Even more remarkable than the absence of subjectivity on thepart of the evangelists is the unconsciousness of Jesus that He is beingportrayed as an example. We do not receive the impression that the Sonof Man was consciously living for the edification of the world. Hismental attitude is not that of an actor playing a part, but of a true andgenuine man living his own life and fulfilling his own purpose. There isno seeming or display. Goodness to be effectual as an example must beunconscious goodness. We are impressed everywhere with the perfectnaturalness and spontaneity of all that Christ did and uttered. [1]

The character of Jesus has been variously interpreted, and it is one ofthe evidences of His moral greatness that each age has emphasised somenew aspect of His {148} personality. In a nature so rich and complex itis difficult to fix upon a single category from which may be deduced themanifold attributes of His character. Two conceptions of Jesus havegenerally prevailed down the centuries. One view interprets Hischaracter in terms of asceticism; the other in terms of aestheticism. [2]Some regard Him as the representative of Hebrew sorrow and sacrifice;others see in Him the type of Hellenic joy and geniality. There arepassages in Scripture confirmatory of both impressions. On the one hand, there is a whole series of virtues of the passive order which are utterlyalien to the Greek ideal; and, on the other hand, there is equallyprominent a tone of tranquil gladness, of broad sympathy with, and keenappreciation of, the beautiful in nature and life which contrasts withthe spirit of Hebrew abnegation. But, after all, neither of these traitsreveals the secret of Jesus. Joy and sorrow are but incidents in life. They have only moral value as the vehicles of a profounder spiritualpurpose. To help every man to realise the fullness and perfection of hisbeing as a child of God is the aim of His life and ministry, andeverything that furthers this end is gratefully recognised by Him as agood. He neither courts nor shuns pain. Neither joy nor sorrow is forHim an end in itself. Both are but incidents upon the way of holinessand love which He had chosen to travel. 

2. Everywhere there was manifest in the life and teaching of Jesus anote of _self-mastery and authority_ which impressed His contemporariesand goes far to explain and unify the various features of His personalityand influence. It is remarkable to notice how often the word 'power' isapplied to Jesus in the New Testament. [3] Whether we regard His attitudeto God, or His relation to others, it is this note of quiet strength, ofvital moral force which arrests our attention. It will be sufficient tomention in passing three directions in which this quality of power ismanifest. 

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(1) It is revealed in the consciousness of a _divine mission_. He goessteadily forward with the calmness of one who knows himself and his work. He has no fear or hesitancy. Courage, earnestness, and singleness ofpurpose mark His career. He is conscious that His task has been givenHim by God, and that He is the chosen instrument of His Father's will. Life has a greatness and worth for Him because it may be made themanifestation and vehicle of the divine purpose. 

(2) His power is revealed again in the _realisation of Holiness_. Holiness is to be differentiated, on the one hand, from innocence; and, on the other, from sinlessness. Innocence is untried goodness;sinlessness is negative goodness; holiness is achieved and victoriousgoodness. It was not mere absence of sin that distinguished Jesus. Hiswas a purity won by temptation, an obedience perfected through suffering, a peace and harmony of soul attained not by self-suppression, but by theconsecration of His unfolding life to the will of God. 

(3) His power is manifested once more in His _Sympathy with man_. Hispurity was pervasive. It flowed forth in acts of love. He went aboutdoing good, invading the world of darkness and sorrow with light and joy. It is the wealth of His interests and the variety of His sympathy whichgive to the ministry of the Son of Man its impressiveness and charm. With gladness as with grief, with the playfulness of childhood and theearnestness of maturity, with the innocent festivities and the graverpursuits of His fellow-men, with the cares of the rich and the trials ofthe poor, He disclosed the most intimate and tender feeling. Hisparables show that He had an open and observant eye for all the lifearound Him. To every appeal He responded with an insight and delicacy ofconsideration which betokened that He Himself had sounded the depths ofhuman experience and knew what was in man. Humour, irony, and pathos inturn are revealed in His human intercourse. 

But while Jesus delighted to give of Himself freely He knew also how towithhold Himself. There can be no true {150} sympathy without restraint. The passive virtues--meekness, patience, forbearance--which appear in thelife of Christ are 'not the signs of mere self-mortification, they arethe signs of power in reserve. They are the marks of one who can affordto wait, who expects to suffer; and that not because he is simply meekand lowly, but because he is also strong and calm. '[4]

The New Testament depicts Jesus as made in the likeness of men, whoselife, though unique in some of its aspects, was in its general conditionsnormal, passing through the ordinary stages of growth, and participatingin the common experiences of mankind. He had to submit to the same lawsand limitations of the universe as we have. There was the same call, inHis case as in ours, to obedience and endurance. There was the samedemand for moral decision. Temptation, suffering, and toil, which meanso much for man in the discipline of character, were factors also in thespiritual development of Christ. Trust, prayer, thanksgiving wereexercised by the Son of Man as by others; confession alone had no placein His life. 

3. The question has been seriously asked, Can the example and teachingof Jesus be really adopted in modern life as the pattern and rule ofconduct? Is there not something strangely impracticable in His Ethics;and, however admirably suited to meet the needs of His own time, utterlyinapplicable to the complex conditions of society to-day? On the onehand, Tolstoy would have us follow the example of Jesus to the letter, and rigidly practise the precepts of the Sermon on the Mount, even to theextent of refusing to resist wrong and possess property, and of holdingaloof from all culture and enterprise, and the interests of lifegenerally. On the other hand, philosophers like Paulsen and Bradley, perceiving the utter impracticableness of Tolstoy's contentions, yet atthe same time recognising his attitude as the only consistent one if theimitation of Christ is to have vogue at all, are convinced that theearthly life of Jesus is not the model of our {161} age, and that toattempt to carry out His precepts consistently would be not onlyimpossible but injurious to all the higher interests of humanity. [5]

But this conclusion is based, it seems to us, upon a two-foldmisapprehension. It is founded upon an inadequate interpretation of thelife and teaching of Christ; and also upon a wholly mechanicalunderstanding of the meaning and value of example. 

(1) What was Christ's ideal of the Christian life? Was it that of themonk or the citizen?--the recluse who meditates apart on his ownsalvation, or the worker who enters the world and contributes to thebetterment of mankind? Is the kingdom of God a realm apart and separatefrom all the other domains of activity? Or has Christianity, accordingto its essence, room within it for an application of its truth to thecomplex relations and manifold interests of modern life? Both views havefound expression in the history of the Church. But there can be littledoubt as to which is the true interpretation of the mind of Jesus. [6]

(2) But, again, what is meant by the 'imitation of Christ' has been alsomisconceived. Imitation is not a literal mechanical copying. To makethe character of another your model does not mean that you are to becomehis mimic or echo. In asking us to follow Him, Christ does not desire tosuppress our individuality, but to enrich and ennoble it. When He says, on the occasion of the feet-washing of His disciples, 'I have given youan example, that ye should do as I have done to you, '[7] obviously it wasnot the outward literal performance, but the spirit of humility andservice embodied in the act which He desired His disciples to emulate. From another soul we receive incentives rather than rules. No teacher ormaster, says Emerson, can {152} realise for us what is good. [8] Withinour own souls alone can the decision be made. We cannot hope tointerpret the character of another until there be within our own breaststhe same moral spirit from which we believe his conduct to proceed. Thevery nature of goodness forbids slavish reproduction. Hence there is acertain sense in which the paradox of Kant is true, that 'imitation findsno place at all in morality. '[9] The question, 'What would Jesus do?' asa test of conduct covers a quite inadequate conception of the intimateand vital relations Christ bears to our humanity. 'It is not to copyafter Christ, ' says a modern writer, 'but to receive His spirit and makeit effective--which is the moral task of the Christian. '[10] Christ isindeed our example, but He is more. And unless He were more He could notbe so much. We could not strive to be like Him if He were not alreadywithin us, the Principle and Spirit of our life, the higher and divinerself of every man. 

What is meant, then, by saying that Christ is the ideal character or normof life is that He represents to us human nature in its typical or idealform. As we behold His perfection we feel that this is what we were madefor, this is the true end of our being. Every one may, in short, see inHim the fulfilment of the divine idea and purpose of man--the conceptionand end of himself. [11]

II

_The Christian Motive_. --Rightly regarded Christ is not only the model ofthe new life, but its motive as well. All the great appeals of theGospel--every persuasion and plea by which God seeks to awaken aresponsive love in the hearts of men--are centred in, and find expressionthrough, the Person and Passion of Christ. 

1. The question of motive is a primary one in Ethics. {153} If, therefore, we ask, What is the deepest spring of action, what is theincentive and motive power for the Christian? The answer is: (1) thelove of God, a love which finds its highest expression in _Forgiveness_. Of all motives the most powerful is the sense of being pardoned. Evenwhen it is only one human being who forgives another, nothing strikes sodeep into the human heart or evokes penitence so tender and unreserved, or brings a joy so pure and lasting. It not only restores the oldrelation which wrong had dissolved; it gives the offender a sense ofloyalty unknown before. He is now bound not by law but by honour, and itwould be a disloyalty worse than the original offence if he wounded suchlove again. Thus it is that God becomes the object of reverence andaffection, not because He imposes laws upon us but because He pardons andredeems. The consciousness of forgiveness is far more potent inproducing goodness than the consciousness of law. This psychologicalfact lay at the root of Christ's ministry, and was the secret of His hopefor man. This, too, is the key to all that is paradoxical, and, at thesame time, to all that is most characteristic in St Paul's Gospel. Whatthe Law could not do, forgiveness achieves. It creates the new heart, and with it the new holiness. 'It is not anything statutory which makessaints out of sinful men; it is the forgiveness which comes through thepassion of Jesus. '[12]

(2) Next to the motive of forgiveness, and indeed arising from it, is thenew consciousness of the _Fatherhood of God_, and the corresponding ideaof sonship. This was a motive to which Jesus habitually appealed. Heinvariably sought not only to create in men confidence in God byrevealing His fatherly providence, but also to lift them out of theirapathy and thraldom by kindling in their souls a sense of their worth andliberty as sons of God. The same thought is prominent also in theepistles both of St. Paul and St. John. As children of God we are nolonger menials and hirelings who do their work merely for pay, andwithout {154} intelligent interest, but sons who share our Father'spossessions and co-operate with Him in His purposes. [13]

(3) Closely connected with the idea of Sonship is that of life as a_Divine Vocation_. Life is a trust, and as the children of God we arecalled to serve Him with all we have and are. The sense of the vocationand stewardship of life acts as a motive: (_a_) in giving _dignity andstability_ to character, saving us, on the one hand, from fatalism, andon the other from fanaticism, and affording definiteness of purpose toall our endeavours; and (_b_) in promoting _sincerity and fidelity_ inour life-work. Thoroughness will permeate every department of ourconduct, since whatsoever we do in word or deed we do as unto God. Allduty is felt to be one, and as love to God becomes its motive thesmallest as well as the greatest act is invested with infinite worth. 'All service ranks the same with God. '

(4) Another motive, prominent in the Pauline Epistles, but present alsoin the eschatological passages of the Synoptics, ought to be mentioned, though it does not now act upon Christians in the same form--_theShortness and Uncertainty of life_. Our Lord enjoins men to work whileit is day for the night cometh; and in view of the suddenness andunexpectedness of the coming of the Son of Man He exhorts to watchfulnessand preparedness. A similar thought forms the background of theapostle's conception of life. His entire view of duty as well as hisestimate of earthly things are tinged with the idea that 'the time isshort, ' and that 'the Lord is at hand. ' Christians are exhorted, therefore, to sit lightly to all worldly considerations. Our truecitizenship is in heaven. But neither the apostle nor his Master everurges this fact as a reason for apathy or indifference. Life may bebrief, but it is not worthless. The thought of life's brevity must notact as an opiate, but rather as a stimulant. If our existence here isshort, then there is all the greater necessity that its days should benobly filled, and its transient opportunities seized and turned intooccasions of strenuous service. 

{155}

(5) To the considerations just mentioned must be added a cognate truthwhich has coloured the whole Christian view of life, and has been a mostpowerful factor in shaping Christian conduct--_the idea of Immortality_. It is not quite correct to say that we owe this doctrine to Christianityalone. Long before the Christian era it was recognised in Egypt, Greece, and the Orient generally. But it was entertained more as a surmise thana conviction. And among the Greeks it was little more than the shadowyspeculation of philosophers. Plato, in his _Phaedo_, puts into the mouthof Socrates utterances of great beauty and far-reaching import; yet, notwithstanding their sublimity, they scarcely attain to more than a'perhaps. ' Even in Hebrew literature, as we have seen, while isolatedinstances of a larger hope are not wanting, there is no confident orgeneral belief in an after-life. But what was only guessed at by theancients was declared as a fact by Christ, and preached as a sublime andcomforting truth by the apostles; and it is not too much to say thatsurvival after death is at once the most distinctive doctrine ofChristianity and the most precious hope of Christendom. The whole moraltemperature of the world, says Jean Paul Richter, has been raisedimmeasurably by the fact that Christ by His Gospel has brought life andimmortality to light. This idea, which has found expression, not only inall the creeds of Christendom, but also in the higher literature andpoetry of modern times, has given a new motive to action, has founded anew type of heroism, and nerved common men and women to the discharge oftasks from which nature recoils. The assurance that death does not endexistence, but that 'man has forever, ' has not only exalted andtransfigured the common virtues of humanity; but, held in conjunctionwith the belief in the divine Fatherhood and human brotherhood, given tolife itself a new solemnity and pathos. [14]

2. But if these are the things which actuate men in their service of Godand man, can it be legitimately said that the Christian motive is pureand disinterested? It is {166} somewhat remarkable that two oppositecharges have been brought against Christian Ethics. [15] In one quarterthe reproach has been made that Christianity suppresses every naturaldesire for happiness, and inculcates a life of severe renunciation. Andwith equally strong insistence there are others who find fault with itbecause of its hedonism, because it rests morality upon an appeal toselfish interests alone. 

(1) The first charge is sufficiently met, we think, by our view of theChristian ideal. We have seen that it is a full rich life which Christreveals and commends. The kingdom of God finds its realisation, not in awithdrawal from human interests, but in a larger and fuller participationin all that makes for the highest good of humanity. It is a caricatureof Christ's whole outlook upon existence to represent Him as teachingthat this life is an outlying waste, forsaken of God and unblessed, andthat the world is so hopelessly bad that it must be wholly renounced. Onthe contrary, it is for Him one of the provinces of the divine kingdom, and the most trivial of our occupations and the most transient of ourjoys and sorrows find their place in the divine order. It is notnecessary to endorse Renan's idyllic picture of the Galilean ministry tobelieve that for Jesus all life, its ordinary engagements and activities, had a worth for the discipline and perfecting of character, and werecapable of being consecrated to the highest ends. There are, indeed, nota few passages in which the call to self-denial is emphasised. Butneither Christ nor His apostles represent pain and want as in themselvesefficacious or meritorious. Renunciation is inculcated not for its ownsake, but always as a means to fuller realisation. Jesus, indeed, transcends the common antithesis of life. For Him it is not a questionas to whether asceticism or non-asceticism is best. Life is for use. Itis at once a trust and a privilege. It may seem to some that He chose'the primrose path, ' but if he did so it was not due to an easy-goinggood-nature. We dare not forget the terrible issues {157} He facedwithout flinching. As Professor Sanday has finely said, 'If we are todraw a lesson in this respect from our Lord's life, it certainly wouldnot be that

 "He who lets his feelings run In soft luxurious flow, Shrinks when hard service must be done, And faints at every woe. "

It would be rather that the brightest and tenderest human life must havea stern background, must carry with it the possibility of infinitesacrifice, of bearing the cross and the crown of thorns. '[16]

(2) The second charge, the charge of hedonism, though seemingly opposedto the first, comes into line with it in so far as it is alleged thatChristianity, while inculcating renunciation in this world, does so forthe sake of happiness in the next. It is contended that in regard topurity of motive the Ethics of Christianity falls below the Ethics ofphilosophy. [17] This statement, so often repeated, requires someexamination. 

3. While it may be acknowledged that unselfishness and disinterestednessare the criterion of moral sublimity, it must be noted at the outset thatconsiderable confusion of thought exists as to the meaning of motive. Even in those moral systems in which virtue is represented as whollydisinterested, the motive may be said to reside in the object itself. The maxim, 'Virtue for virtue's sake, ' really implies what may be calledthe 'interest of achievement. ' If virtue has any meaning it must beregarded as a 'good' which is desirable. Perseverance in the pursuit ofany good implies the hope of success; in other words, of the reward whichlies in the attainment of the object desired. The reward sought may notbe foreign to the nature of virtue itself, but none the less, the idea ofreward is present, and, in a sense, is the incentive to all virtuousendeavour. This is, indeed, implied by a no less rigorous {168} moralistthan Kant. For as he himself teaches, the question, 'What should I do?'leads inevitably to the further question, 'What may I hope?'[18] The endstriven after cannot be a matter of indifference, if virtue is to havemoral value at all. It must be a real and desirable end--an end whichfulfils the purpose of a man as a moral being. 

(1) But though Kant insists with rigorous logic that reverence for themajesty of the moral law must be the only motive of duty, and that allmotives springing from personal desire or hope of happiness must beseverely excluded, it is curious to find that in the second part of his_Critique of Practical Reason_ he proceeds, with a strange inconsistency, to make room for the other idea, viz. , that virtue is not without itsreward, and is indeed united in the end with happiness. Felicity andholiness shall be ultimately one, he says; and, at the last, virtue shallbe seen 'to be worthy of happiness, ' and happiness shall be the crown ofgoodness. [19] Thus those philosophers, of whom Kant is typical, whocontend for the purity of the moral motive and the disinterested loyaltyto the good, bring in, at the end, the notion of happiness, which, as aconcomitant or consequence of virtue, cannot fail to be also an activeincentive. 

(2) When we turn to Christian Ethics we find that here, not less than inphilosophical Ethics, the motive lies in the object itself. The end andthe motive are really one, and the highest good is to be sought foritself and not for the sake of some ulterior gain. It is true, indeed, that Christianity has not always been presented in its purest form; toooften have prudence, fear, other-worldliness been set forth asinducements to goodness, as if the Gospel cared nothing for thedisposition of a man, and was concerned only with his ultimate happiness. Even a moralist so acute as Paley bases morality upon no higher groundthan enlightened self-interest. But the most superficial reader of theGospels must see at a glance the wide variance between such a view andthat of Christ. Nothing could be further from the spirit of Jesus thanto estimate the {169} excellence of an action by the magnitude or theutility of its effects rather than the intrinsic good of its motive. Otherwise He would not have ranked the widow's mite above the gifts ofvanity, nor esteemed the tribute of the penitent, not so much for thecostliness of her offering, as for the sincerity of affection itrevealed. Christ looked upon the heart alone, and the worth of an actionlay essentially for Him in its inner quality. Sin resided not merely inthe overt act, but even more in the secret desire. A man may beoutwardly blameless, and yet not really good. He who remains sober orhonest simply because of the worldly advantages attaching to such conductmay obtain a certificate of respectability from society; but, judged bythe standard of Christ, he is not truly a moral man. In an age which istoo prone to make outward propriety the gauge of goodness, it cannot besufficiently insisted upon that the Ethic of Christianity is an Ethic ofthe inner motive and intention, and that, in this respect, it does notfall a whit behind the demand of the most rigid system of disinterestedmorality. 

(_a_) It must, however, be freely admitted that our Lord frequentlyemploys the sanctions both of rewards and penalties. In the time ofChrist the idea of reward, so prominent in the Old Testament, still heldan important place in Jewish religion, being specially connected with theMessianic Hope and the coming of the kingdom. It was not unnatural, therefore, that Jesus, trained in Hebrew religious modes of thought andexpression, should frequently employ the existing conceptions as vehiclesof His own teaching; but, at the same time, purifying them of their morematerialistic associations and giving to them a richer spiritual content. While the kingdom of God is spoken of as a gift, and promised, indeed, asa reward, the word 'reward' in this connection is not used in theordinary sense, but 'is rather conceived as belonging to the same orderof spiritual experience as the state of heart and mind which ensures itsbestowal. '[20] Though Jesus does not {160} hesitate to point Hisdisciples to the blessings of heaven which they will receive in thefuture, these are represented for the most part not as material benefits, but as the intensification and enrichment of life itself. [21]

It was usually the difficulties rather than the advantages ofdiscipleship upon which Jesus first laid stress. He would not that anyone should come to Him on false pretences, or without fully counting thecost. [22] Even when He Himself called His original disciples, it was ofservice and not of recompense He spoke. 'Follow Me, and I will make youfishers of men. '[23] The privilege consisted not in outward éclat, butin the participation of the Master's own purpose and work. Still, allservice carries with it its own reward, and no one can share the missionof Christ without also partaking of that satisfaction and joy which areinseparable from the highest forms of spiritual ministry. [24]

There is, however, one passage recorded by all the Synoptists which seemsat first sight to point more definitely to a reward of a distinctlymaterial character, and to one that was to be enjoyed not merely in thefuture, but even in this present life. When Peter somewhat boastfullyspoke of the sacrifice which he and his brethren had made for theGospel's sake, and asked, 'What shall we have therefor?' Jesus replied, 'Verily, I say unto you, that no man that hath left home, or brethren, orsisters, or mother, or father, or children, or lands, for My sake and theGospel's sake, but shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, housesand brethren, sisters and mothers, and children and lands, withpersecutions; and in the world to come eternal life. '[25] Now, whilethis is a promise of wide sweep and large generosity, it is neither soarbitrary nor material as it seems. First, the words, 'withpersecutions, ' indicate that suffering is not only the very condition ofthe promise, but indeed an essential part of the reward--an element whichwould of itself be a true test of the sincerity of the sacrifice. {161}But, second, even the promise, 'An hundredfold now in this time, ' isobviously not intended to be taken in a literal sense, but rather assuggesting that the gain, while apparently of the same nature as thesacrifice, will have a larger spiritual import. For, just as JesusHimself looked upon all who shared His own devotion as His mother andbrethren; so, in the deepest sense, when a man leaves father and mother, renouncing home and family ties for the sake of bringing his fellow-mento God, he seems to be emptying his life of all affectionaterelationships, but in reality he is entering into a wider brotherhood;and, in virtue of his ministry of love, is being knit in bonds strongerthan those of earthly kinship, with a great and increasing community ofsouls which owe to him their lives. [26] The promise is no arbitrary giftor bribe capriciously bestowed; it is the natural fruition of moralendeavour. For there is nothing so productive as sacrifice. What theman who yields himself to the service of Christ actually gives is life;and what he gets back, increased an hundredfold, is just life again, hisown life, repeated and reflected in the men and women whom he has won toChrist. 

In some of His parables Christ employs the analogy of thework-engagement, in which labour and payment seem to correspond. But thelegal element has a very subordinate place in the simile. Jesus liftsthe whole relationship into a higher region of thought, and transformsthe idea of wages into that of a gift of love far transcending the legalclaim which can be made by the worker. He who has the bondsman's mind, and works only for the hireling's pay, will only get what he works for. But he who serves from love finds in the service itself that which mustalways be its truest recompense--the increased power of service, thecapacity of larger devotion[27]--'The wages of going on. '[28] In hislatest volume Deissmann has pointed out that we can only do justice tothe utterances of the New Testament regarding work and wages by examiningthem _in situ_, {162} amidst their natural surroundings. Jesus and St. Paul spoke with distinct reference to the life and habits of the commonpeople of their day. 'If you elevate such utterances to the level of theKantian moral philosophy, and reproach primitive Christianity withteaching for the sake of reward, you not only misunderstand the words, but tear them up by the roots. ' . . . 'The sordid ignoble suggestions soliable to arise in the lower classes are altogether absent from thesayings of Jesus and His apostles, as shown by the parable of theLabourers in the Vineyard, and the analogous reliance of St. Paul solelyupon grace. '[29]

The same inner relation subsists between Sin and Penalty. But here, again, the award of punishment is not arbitrary, but the naturalconsequence of disobedience to the law of the spiritual life. He whoseeks to save his life shall lose it. He who makes this world his allshall receive as his reward only what this world can give. He who burieshis talent shall, by the natural law of disuse, forfeit it. Not tobelieve in Christ is to miss eternal life. To refuse Him who is theLight of the world is to remain in darkness. 

(6) An examination of the Pauline epistles yields a similar conclusion. St. Paul does not disdain to employ the sanctions of hope and fear. 'Knowing the terrors of the Lord' he persuades men, and 'because of thepromises' he urges the Corinthians 'to cleanse themselves and perfectholiness. ' But in Paul's case, as in that of our Lord, the charge ofhedonism is meaningless. For not only does the conception hold a mostsubordinate place in his teaching, but the idea loses the sense of merit, and is transmuted into that of a free gift. And in general, in all thepassages where the hope of the future is introduced, the idea of rewardis merged in the yearning for a fuller life, which the Christian, who hasonce tasted of its joy here, may well expect in richer measurehereafter. [30]

Enough has been said to clear Christianity of the charge of hedonism. Sofar from Christian Ethics falling {163} below Philosophical Ethics inregard to purity of motive, it really surpasses it in the sublimity ofits sanctions. The Kantian idea of virtue tends to empty the obligationof all moral content. Goodness, as the philosopher himself came to see, cannot be represented as a mere impersonal abstraction. Virtue has nomeaning except in relation to its ultimate end. And life in union with apersonal God, in whose image we have been made, is the end and purpose ofman's being. Noble as it may be to live morally without the thought ofGod, the man who so strives to live does not attain to such a highconception of life as he who lives with God for his object. Motivesadvance with aims, and the higher the ideal the nobler the incentive. Fear of future punishment and the desire for future happiness may proveeffective aids to the will at certain stages of moral development, butultimately the love of God and the beauty of holiness make every othermotive superfluous. Indeed, the reward of the Christian life is such ascan only appeal to one who has come to identify himself with the divinewill. The Christian man is always entering upon his reward. His joy ishis Master's joy. He has no other interest. His reward, both here andhereafter, is not some external payment, something separable fromhimself; it is wholly conditioned by what he is, and is simply his owngrowth of character, his increasing power of being good and doing good. And if it be still asked, What is the great inducement? What is it thatmakes the life of the Christian worth living? The answer can onlybe--The hope of becoming what Christ has set before man as desirable, ofgrowing up to the stature of perfect manhood, of attaining to thelikeness of Jesus Christ Himself. But so far from this being a selfishaim, not to seek one's life in God--to be indifferent to all the inherentblessings and joys involved--would be not the mark of puredisinterestedness, but the evidence, rather, of a lack of appreciation ofwhat life really means. The soul that has caught the vision of God andbeen thrilled with the grace of the Son of Man cannot but yield itself tothe best it knows. 

[1] Cf. Fairbairn, _The Phil. Of the Ch. Religion_, pp. 358 ff. 

[2] Peabody, _Christ and the Christian Character_, p. 44. 

[3] Peabody, _op. Cit. _, pp. 53 f. 

[4] Peabody, _op. Cit. _, p. 68. 

[5] See Paulsen, _System der Ethik_, pp. 56 ff. ; also Troeltsch, _op. Cit. _, vol. Ii. P. 847. 

[6] Cf. Ehrhardt, _Der Grundcharacter d. Ethik. Jesu_, p. 110. 'Theascetic element in the ethics of Jesus is its transient, the service ofGod its permanent element. ' Cf. Also Strauss, _Leben Jesu_, who speaksof 'the Hellenic quality' in Jesus; also Keim, _Jesus of Nazareth, andTroeltsch_, _op. Cit. _, vol. I. Pp. 34 ff. 

[7] John xiii. 15. 

[8] _Conduct of Life_. 

[9] _Metaphysics of Ethics_, sect. Ii. 

[10] Schultz, _Grundriss d. Evang. Ethik_, p. 5. 

[11] Cf. _Ecce Homo_, chap. X. 

[12] This thought has been beautifully worked out by Prof. Denney in_British Weekly_, Jan. 13, 1912. 

[13] Luke xv. 

[14] Cf. Knight, _The Christian Ethic_, p. 36. 

[15] See Haering, _Ethics of the Christian Life_, p. 190. 

[16] 'Apocalyptic Element in the Gospels, ' _Hibbert Journal_, Oct. 1911. 

[17] The question of rewards has been fully discussed by Jacoby, _Neutestamentliche Ethik_, pp. 41 ff. ; also Barbour, _op. Cit. _, pp. 226ff. 

[18] Cf. _Kritik d. Prakt. Vernunft_, p. 143. 

[19] Kant, _Idem_. 

[20] Barbour, _op. Cit. _, p. 231. 

[21] Matt. V. 12, xix. 21, xxv. 34; Luke vi. 23, xviii. 22; Mark x. 21. 

[22] Mark viii. 19; Luke ix. 57. 

[23] Mark i. 17, ii. 14. 

[24] Luke xxii. 29 f. 

[25] Mark x. 28-31; cf. Matt. Xix. 27-30. 

[26] This thought is finely elaborated by Barbour. 

[27] Matt. Xxv. 21; Luke xix. 17. 

[28] Tennyson, _Wages_. 

[29] Deissmann, _Light from the Ancient East_, pp. 316 ff. 

[30] See also Eph. Vi. 5-8; 1 Cor. Iii. 14; Rom. V. 2-5, vi. 23, viii. 16. 

{164}

CHAPTER X

THE DYNAMIC OF THE NEW LIFE

In the dynamic power of the new life we reach the central anddistinguishing feature of Christian Ethics. The uniqueness ofChristianity consists in its mode of dealing with a problem which allnon-Christian systems have tended to ignore--the problem of translatingthe ideal into life. The Gospel not only sets before men the highestgood, but it imparts the secret of realising it. The ideals of theancients were but visions of perfection. They had no objectivereality. Beautiful as these old-time visions of 'Good' were, theylacked impelling force, the power to change dreams into realities. They were helpless in the face of the great fact of sin. They couldsuggest no remedy for moral disease. 

Christianity is not a philosophical dream nor the imagination of a fewvisionaries. It claims to be a new creative force, a powercommunicated and received, to be worked out and realised in the actuallife and character of common men and women. 

In this chapter we have to consider the means whereby man is broughtinto a new spiritual relation with God, and enabled to live the newlife as it has been revealed in Christ. This reconciliation implies atwofold movement--a redemptive action on God's part, and anappropriating and determinative response on the part of man. 

I

THE DIVINE POWER

The urgent problem of the New Testament writers was, How can manachieve that good which has been embodied {165} in the life and exampleof Jesus Christ? A full answer to this question would lead us into therealm of dogmatic theology. And therefore, without entering upondetails, it may be said at once that the originality of the Gospel liesin this, that it not only reveals the good in a concrete and livingform, but discloses the power which makes the good possible in thehitherto unattempted derivation of the new life from a new birth underthe influence of the spirit of God. The power to achieve the morallife does not lie in the natural man. No readjustment ofcircumstances, nor spread of knowledge, is of itself equal to the taskof creating that entirely new phenomenon--the Christian character. There must be a cause proportionate to the effect. 'Nothing availeth, 'says Paul, 'but a new creature. ' This new condition owes its origin toGod. It is a life communicated by an act of divine creative activity. 

But while this regenerative energy is represented generally as the workof God's spirit, it is more particularly set forth as operating throughChrist who is the power of God unto salvation. 

There are three great facts in Christ's life with which the NewTestament connects the redemptive work of God. 

1. _The Incarnation_. --In Christ God shares man's nature, and thusmakes possible a union of the divine and human. On its divine side theincarnation is the complete revelation of God in human life, and on thehuman side it is the supreme expression of the spiritual meaning ofhuman nature itself. Christ saves not by a special act of atonementalone, but emphatically by manifesting in Himself the union of God andman. In view of the fact of the world's sin, the Incarnation, as therevelation of the divine life, includes a gracious purpose. Itinvolves the sacrifice of God, which theologians designate by thetheory of _Kenosis_. The Advent was not only the consummation of thereligious history of the race; it was also the inauguration of a newera. The Son of Man initiated a new type of humanity, to be realisedin increasing fullness as men entered into the meaning of the greatrevelation. 'He {166} recapitulated in Himself the long unfolding ofmankind. '[1] Hence in the very fact of the word becoming fleshatonement is involved. In Christ God is revealed in the reality of Hislove and the persistence of His search for man, while man is disclosedin the greatness of his vision and vocation. 

2. _The Death of Christ_. --Although already implied in the life, theatonement culminates in the death of Christ. Even by being made in thelikeness of men Jesus did not escape from, but willingly took up, theburdens of humanity and bore them as the Son of Man. But His passionupon the cross, as the supreme instance of suffering borne for others, at once illuminated and completed all that He suffered and achieved asman's representative. It is this aspect of Christ's redemptive workupon which St. Paul delights to dwell. And though naturally not soprominent in our Lord's own teaching, yet even there the significanceof the Redeemer's death is foreshadowed, and in more than one passageexplicitly stated. [2] Here we are in the region of dogmatics, and weare not called upon to formulate a doctrine of the atonement. All thatwe have to do with is the ethical fact that between man and the newlife there lies the actuality of sin, the real source of man's failureto achieve righteousness, and the stumbling-block which must be removedbefore reconciliation with God the Father can be effected. The act, atonce divine and human, which alone meets the case is represented inScripture as the Sacrifice of Christ. In reference to the efficacy ofthe sacrifice upon the cross Bishop Butler says: 'How and in whatparticular way it had this efficacy, there are not wanting persons whohave endeavoured to explain; but I do not find that the Scripture hasexplained it. '[3] Though, indeed, the fact is independent of anytheory, the truth for which the cross stands must be brought by us intosome kind of intelligible relation with our view of the world, otherwise it is a piece of magic lying outside of our experience, and{167} having no ethical value for life. At the same time no doctrinehas suffered more from shallow theorisings, and particularly by theemployment of mechanical, legal, and commercial analogies, than thedoctrine of the atonement. The very essence of the religious life isincompatible with the idea of an external transference of goodness fromone being to another. Man can be reconciled to God only by an absolutesurrender of himself to God. To assimilate this spiritual act to acommercial or legal transaction is to destroy the very idea of themoral life. No explanation, however, can be considered satisfactorywhich does not safeguard two ideas of a deeply ethical nature--thevoluntariness and the vicariousness of Christ's sacrifice. We must becareful to do justice, on the one hand, to the eternal relations inwhich Christ stands to God; and on the other, to the intimateassociation with man into which Jesus has entered. It is the task oftheology to bring together the various passages of Scripture, andexhibit their systematic connection and relative value for a doctrineof soteriology. For Ethics the one significant fact to be recognisedis that in a human life was fulfilled perfect obedience, even as far asdeath, a perfect obedience that completely met and fully satisfied thedemand of the very highest, the divine ideal. 

3. _The Resurrection of Christ_. --If the Incarnation naturally issuesin the sacrifice unto death, that again is crowned and sealed byChrist's risen life. The Resurrection is the vindication andcompletion of the Redeemer's work. He who was born of the seed ofDavid according to the flesh was declared to be the Son of God by theResurrection. It was the certainty that He had risen that gave to Hisdeath, in the apostles' eyes, its sacrificial value. This was theground of St. Paul's conviction that the old order had passed away, andthat a new order had been established. 'If Christ be not risen ye areyet in your sins. ' In virtue of His ascended life Christ becomes theindwelling presence and living power within the regenerate man. It isin no external way that the Redeemer exerts His influence. He is theprinciple of life working within the soul. The key {168} to the newstate is to be found in the mystical union of the Christian with therisen Lord. The twofold act of death and resurrection has its analogyin the experience of every redeemed man. Within the secret sanctuaryof the human soul that has passed from death to life, the history ofthe Redeemer is re-enacted. In the several passages which refer tothis subject the idea is that the changed life is based upon an ethicaldying and rising again with Christ. [4] The Christ within the heart isthe vital principle and dynamic energy by which the believer lives andtriumphs over every obstacle--the world, sin, sorrow, and death itself. 'I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. '[5] All that makes life, 'life indeed'--an exalted, harmonious, and joyous existence--is derivedfrom union with the living Lord, who has come to be what He is for manby the earthly experiences through which He has passed. Thus by HisIncarnation, Death, and Resurrection He is at once the source and goal, the spring and ideal of the new life. 

 'Yea, thro' life, death, sorrow, and through sinning, He shall suffice me for He hath sufficed; Christ is the end, for Christ was the beginning; Christ the beginning, for the end is Christ. '[6]

Theology may seek to analyse the personality of Christ into itselements--the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus. But afterall it is one and indivisible. It is the whole fact of Christ, and notany particular experience taken in its isolation, which is the power ofGod unto salvation. The question still remains after all our analysis, What was it that gave to these events in the history of Jesus theircreative and transforming power? And the answer can only be--BecauseChrist was what He was. It was the unique character of the Being ofwhom these were but the manifestations which wrought the spell. Whatbound the New Testament Christians to the cross was that their Masterhung there. They saw in that life lived among {169} men, and in thatsacrifice upon Calvary, the perfect consummation of the ideal manhoodthat lived within their own hearts, and of the love, new upon theearth, which made it possible. The cross stood for the symbol of atruth that pierced to the inner core of their souls. 'He bore oursins. ' And thus down the centuries, in their hour of shame, and grief, and death, men have lifted their eyes to the Man of Sorrows, and havefound in His life and sacrifice, apart from all theories of atonement, their peace and triumph. It is this note of absolute surrender towardsGod and of perfect love for man which, because it answers to a deepyearning of the human heart, has given to the mystery of theIncarnation and the Cross its lifting and renewing power, II

THE HUMAN RESPONSE

Possession of power involves the obligation to use it. The force isgiven; it has to be appropriated. The spirit of Christ is not offeredin order to free a man from the duties of the moral life. Man is notsimply the recipient of divine energy. He has to make it his own andto work it out by his self-determinative activity. Nevertheless therelation of the divine spirit to the human personality is a subject ofgreat perplexity, involving the psychological problem of the connectionof the divine and the human in life generally. If in the last resortGod is the ultimate source of all life, the absolute Being, who

 'Can rejoice in naught Save only in Himself and what Himself hath wrought';

that truth must be held in harmony with the facts of divine immanenceand human experience. The divine spirit holds within His grasp allreality, and by His self-communicating activity makes the world ofnature and of life possible. But that being granted, how are we toconceive the relation of that Spirit to man with his distinctindividuality, with {170} his sense of working out a future and a fatein which the Absolute may indeed be fulfilling its purpose, but whichare none the less man's own achievement? That is the crux of theproblem. The outstanding fact which bears upon this problem is thegeneral character of our experience, the growth of which is not themere laying of additional material upon a passive subject by anexternal power, but is a true development, a process in which thesubject is himself operative in the unfolding of his ownpotentialities. Without dwelling further upon this question it may bewell to bear in mind two points: (1) The growth of experience is agradual entrance into conscious possession of what we implicitly areand potentially have from the beginning. Duty, for example, is notsomething alien from a man, something superimposed by a power nothimself. It lies implicit in his nature as his ideal and vocation. The moral life is the life in which a man comes to 'know himself, ' toapprehend himself as he truly is. (2) In this development ofexperience we ourselves are active and self-organising. We are reallymaking ourselves, and are conscious, that even while we are theinstruments of a higher power, we are working out our ownindividuality, exercising our own freedom and determination. [7] Theteaching of the New Testament is in full accord with this position. If, on the one hand, St. Paul states that every moral impulse is due tothe inspiration of God, no less emphatic is he in ascribing to manhimself full freedom of action. 'The ethical sense of responsibility, 'says Johannes Weiss, [8] 'the energy for struggle, and the discipline ofthe will were not paralysed nor absorbed in Paul's case by hisconsciousness of redemption and his profound spiritual experiences. 'Scripture lends no support to the idea which some forms of Augustiniantheology assume, that the divine spirit is an irresistible force actingfrom without upon man and superseding his exertions. It acts as animmanent moral power, not compelling or crushing the will, butquickening and inspiring its efforts. 

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If we inquire what constitutes the subjective or human element in themaking of the new life, we find that the New Testament emphasises threemain factors--Repentance, Faith, and Obedience. These arecomplementary, and together constitute what is commonly called'conversion. '

1. _Repentance_ is a turning away in sorrow and contrition from a lifeof sin, a breaking off from evil because a better standard has beenaccepted. Our Lord began His ministry with a call to repentance. Thefirst four beatitudes set forth its elements; while the parable of theprodigal illustrates its nature. 

Ethical writers distinguish between a negative and a positive aspect ofrepentance. On its negative side it is regarded as the emotion ofsorrow excited by reflection upon sin. But sorrow, though accompanyingrepentance, must not be identified with it. Mere regret, either in theform of bitterness over one's folly, or chagrin on account ofdiscovery, may be but a weak sentiment which exerts little or noinfluence upon a man's subsequent conduct. Even remorse following thecommission of wickedness may only deepen into a paralysing despairwhich works death rather than repentance unto life. 

(1) On its positive side repentance implies action as well as feeling, and involves a determination of will to quit the past and start on anew life. A man repents not merely when he grieves over his misdeed, but when he confesses it and seeks to make what amendment he can. Thispositive outlook upon the future, rather than the passive brooding overthe past, is happily expressed in the New Testament term _metanoia_, change of mind, and is enforced in the Baptist's counsel, 'Bring forthfruits meet for repentance. '[9] The change of mind here indicated ispractically equivalent to what is variously called in the New Testament'Conversion, '[10] 'Renewal, '[11] 'Regeneration, '[12]--words suggestiveof the completeness of the change. 

(2) The variety of terms employed to describe conversion {172} wouldseem to imply that the Scriptures recognise a diversity of mode. Alldo not enter the kingdom of God by the same way; and the New Testamentoffers examples varying from the sudden conversion of a Saul to thealmost imperceptible transformation of a Nathaniel and a Timothy. Inmodern life something of the same variety of Christian experience ismanifest. While what is called 'sudden conversion' cannot reasonablybe denied, [13] as little can those cases be ignored in which the truthseems to pervade the mind gradually and almost unconsciously--cases ofsteady spiritual growth from childhood upwards, in which the believeris unaware of any break in the continuity of his inner history, hisdays appearing to be 'bound each to each by natural piety. '

(3) The question arises, Which is the normal experience? The matterhas been put somewhat bluntly by the late Professor James, [14] as towhether the 'twice-born' or the 'once-born' present the natural type ofChristian experience. Is it true, he asks, that the experience of St. Paul, which has so long dominated Christian teaching, is really thehigher or even the healthier mode of approaching religion? Does notthe example of Jesus offer a simpler and more natural ideal? The moralexperience of the Son of Man was not a revolution but an evolution. His own religion was not that of the twice-born, and all that He askedof His disciples was the childlike mind. [15] Paul, the man of cities, feels a kindred turbulence within himself. Jesus, the interpreter ofnature, feels the steady persuasiveness of the sunshine of God, andgrows from childhood in stature, wisdom, and favour with God and man. It is contended by some that the whole Pauline conception of sin is anightmare, and rests upon ideas of God and man which are unworthy anduntrue. 'As a matter of fact, ' says Sir Oliver Lodge, 'the higher manof to-day is not worrying about his sins at all, still less about theirpunishment; his mission, if he is good for anything, is to be up anddoing. '[16] {173} This amounts to a claim for the superiority of thefirst of the two types of religious consciousness, the type which Jamesdescribes as 'sky-blue souls whose affinities are with flowers andbirds and all enchanting innocencies than with dark human passions;. . . In whom religious gladness, being in possession from the outset, needs no deliverance from any antecedent burden. '[17] The second typeis marked by a consciousness, similar to St. Paul's, of the dividedself. It starts from radical pessimism. It only attains to religiouspeace through great tribulation. It is the religion of the 'sick soul'as contrasted with that of 'healthy-mindedness. ' But, morbid as it mayappear, to be disturbed by past sin, it is really the 'twice-born' whohave sounded the depths of the human heart, and have been the greatestreligious leaders. And so far from the sense of the need of repentancebeing the sign of a diseased mind, the decreasing consciousness of sinin our day may only prove the shallowness of the modern mind. What menneed of religion is power. And there is a danger of people to-daylosing a sense of the dynamic force of the older Gospel. [18]

But whether Paul's case is abnormal or the reverse, it is surely afalse inference that, because Christ grew up without the need ofconversion, His life affords in this respect a pattern to sinful men. It is just His perfect union with God which differentiates Him entirelyfrom ordinary men; and that which may be necessary for sinful creaturesis unthinkable in His case. What He was we are to become. But beforewe can follow Him, there is for us, because of sin, a preliminarystep--a breaking with our evil past. And, in all His teaching our Lordclearly recognises this. His first call is a call to repentance. Itis indeed the childlike mind He requires; but He significantly saysthat 'except _ye turn_ and become as little children, ye shall in nowise enter the kingdom of heaven. '[19]

The decision of will demanded of Jesus, while it may not {174}necessarily involve a catastrophe of life or convulsion of nature, mustbe none the less a deliberate and decisive turning from evil to good. By what road a man must travel before he enters the kingdom, throughwhat convulsion of spirit be must pass, so frequently dwelt upon by St. Paul and illustrated by his own life, Christ does not say. In theFourth Gospel there is one reported saying describing a process ofspiritual agony, like that of physical child-birth, indicative that thechange must be radical, and that at some point of experience the greatdecision must be made, a decision which is likely to involve deeptravail of soul. 

There are many ways in which a man may become a Christian. Some menhave to undergo, like Paul, fierce inward conflict. Others glidequietly, almost imperceptibly, into richer and ampler regions of life. But when or how the transition is made, whether the renewal be suddenor gradual, it is the same victory in all cases that must be won, thevictory of the spirit over the flesh, the 'putting off of the old man'and the 'putting on of the new. ' Life cannot be always a compromise. Sooner or later it must become an alternative. He who has seen thehigher self can be no longer content with the lower. The acts ofcontrition, confession, and decision--essential and successive steps inrepentance--are the immediate effects of the vision of Christ. Thoughrepentance is indeed a human activity, here, as always, the earlierimpulse comes from the divine side. He who truly repents is already inthe grip of Christ. 'We love Him because He first loved us. '

2. _Faith_. --If repentance looks back and forsakes the old, faithlooks forward and accepts the new. Even in repentance there is alreadyan element of faith, for a man cannot turn away from his evil pastwithout having some sense of contrast between the actual and thepossible, some vision of the better life which he feels to be desirable. 

(1) While there is no more characteristic word in the New Testamentthan faith, there is none which is used in a greater variety of senses, or whose import it is more difficult to determine. It must not beforgotten at the outset {175} that though it is usually regarded as atheological term, it is a purely human act, and represents an elementin ordinary life without which the world could not hold together for asingle day. We constantly live by faith, and in our common intercoursewith our fellows we daily exercise this function. We have anirresistible conviction that we live in a rational world in whicheffect answers to cause. Faith, it has been said, is the capital ofall reasoning. Break down this principle, and logic itself would bebankrupt. Those who have denied the intelligibility of the universehave not been able to dispense with the very organ by which theirargument is conducted. Hence faith in its religious sense is of thesame kind as faith in common life. It is distinguishable only by its_special object_ and its _moral intensity_. 

(2) The habitual relationship between Christ and His disciples was oneof mutual confidence. While Jesus evidently trusts them, they regardHim as their Master on whose word they wholly rely. Ever invested witha deep mystery and awe, He is always for His disciples the embodimentof all that is highest and holiest, the supreme object of reverence, the ultimate source of authority. Peter but expresses the mind of thecompany when he says, 'To whom can we go but unto Thee, Thou hast thewords of eternal life. ' Nor was it only the disciples who manifestedthis personal trust. Many others, the Syrophenician woman, the RomanCenturion, Zacchaeus, Bartimaeus, also evinced it. It was, indeed, tothis element in the human heart that Jesus invariably appealed; andwhile He was quick to detect its presence, He was equally sensitive toits absence. Even among the twelve, when, in the face of some newemergency, there was evidence of mistrust, He exclaimed, 'O ye oflittle faith. ' And when, beyond His own immediate circle, He met withsuspicion and unbelief, it caused Him surprise and pain. [20]

From these and other incidents it is obvious that faith for Jesus had avariety of meanings and degrees. 

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(_a_) Sometimes it meant simply _trust in divine providence_; as whenHe bids His disciples take no thought for their lives, because He whofeeds the ravens and clothes the lilies cares for them. (_b_) It meantagain _belief in His own divine power_; as when He assures therecipients of His healing virtue that their faith hath made them whole. (_c_) It is regarded by Jesus as _a condition of forgiveness andsalvation_. Thus to the woman who had sinned He said, 'Thy faith hathsaved thee, ' and to the man who was sick of the palsy, 'Son, thy sinsbe forgiven thee. '[21]

The essential and vital mark in all Christ's references is the personalappropriation of the good which He Himself had brought to man. In Hisvarious modes of activity--in His discourses, His works of healing andforgiveness--it is not too much to say that Jesus regarded Himself asthe embodiment of God's message to the world; and to welcome His wordwith confidence and joy, and unhesitatingly act upon it, was faith. Hence it did not mean merely the mental acceptance of some abstracttruth, but, before all else, personal and intimate devotion to Himself. It seems the more necessary to emphasise this point since Harnack hasaffirmed 'that, while Christ was the special object of faith for Pauland the other apostles, He did not enter as an element into His ownpreaching, and did not solicit faith towards Himself. '[22] It isindeed true that Jesus frequently associated Himself with His Father, whose immediate representative He claims to be. But no one can doubtthat He also asserts authority and power on His own account, andsolicits faith on His own behalf. Nor does He take pains, even whenchallenged, to explain that He was but the agent of another. On thecontrary, as we have seen, He acts in His own right, and pronounces theblessings of healing and forgiveness in His own name. Even when theword 'Faith' is not mentioned the whole attitude and spirit of Jesusimpels us to the same conclusion. There was an air of independence andauthority {177} about Him which filled His disciples and others, notmerely with confidence, but with wonder and awe. His repeated word is, 'I say unto you. ' And there is a class of sayings which clearlyindicate the supreme significance which He attached to His ownpersonality as an object of faith. Foremost among these is the greatinvitation, 'Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, andI will give you rest. '

(3) If we turn to the epistles, and especially to the Pauline, we arestruck by the apparently changed meaning of faith. It has become morecomplex and technical. It is no longer simply the receptive relationof the soul towards Christ; it is also a justifying principle. Faithnot only unites the believer to Christ, it also translates him into anew sphere and creates for him a new environment. The past iscancelled. All things have become new. The man of faith has passedout of the dominion of law into the kingdom of Grace. 

The Pauline doctrine of Justification by Faith has received in thehistory of the Church a twofold interpretation. On the one hand, ithas been maintained that the sole significance of faith is that itgives to the believer power, by God's supernatural aid, to realise agoodness of which he is naturally incapable. On the other hand, it isheld that the peculiarity of faith is that, though he himself is asinner deserving condemnation, it affords to the believer an assuranceof the favour with which a loving Father regards him, not on account ofhis own attainments, but in virtue of the perfect obedience of the Sonof God with whom each is united by faith. The former is the moredistinctively Roman view; the latter that of the Reformed Church. While the Catholic form of the doctrine gives to 'works' a place notless important than faith in justification, the Protestant exalts'faith' to the position of priority as more in harmony with the mysteryof the atoning sacrifice of Christ as expounded by St. Paul. Faithjustifies, because it is for the Christian the vision of an ideal. What we admire in another is already implicitly within us. We {178}already possess the righteousness we believe in. The moral beauty ofChrist is ours inasmuch as we are linked to Him by faith, and haveaccepted as our true self all that He is and has achieved. Hence faithis not merely the sight of the ideal in Christ. It is the energy ofthe soul as well, by which the believer strives to realise that whichhe admires. According to the teaching of Scripture faith has thus athreefold value. It is a receptive attitude, a justifying principle, and an energising power. It is that by which the believer accepts andappropriates the gift of Life offered by God in Christ. 

3. _Obedience_. --Faith contains the power of a new obedience. Butfaith worketh by love. The soul's surrender to Christ is the crowningphase of man's response. The obedience of love is the natural sequelof repentance and faith, the completing act of consecration. As Godgives Himself in Christ to man, so man yields in Christ to God all heis and all he has. 

Without enlarging upon the nature of this final act of self-surrender, three points of ethical value ought not to be overlooked. 

(1) Obedience is an _activity_ of the soul by which the believerappropriates the life of God. Life is not merely a gift, it is a task, an achievement. We are not simply passive recipients of the Good, butfree and determinative agents who react upon what is given, taking itup into our life and working it into the texture of our character. Theobedience of love is the practical side of faith. While God impartsthe energy of the Spirit, we apply it and by strenuous endeavour andunceasing effort mould our souls and make our world. 

(2) It is a consecration of the _whole personality_. All the powers ofman are engaged in soul-making. Religion is not a detached region ofexperience, a province separate from the incidents and occupations ofordinary existence. Obedience must cover the whole of life, anddemands the exercise and devotion of every gift. Not only is everythought to be brought into subjection to the mind of {179} Christ, butevery passion and desire, every activity and power of body and mind areto be consecrated to God and transformed into instruments of service. 'Our wills are ours to make them thine. ' But the will is not aseparate faculty; it is the whole man. And the obedience of the willis nothing less than the response of our entire manhood to the will ofGod. 

(3) Finally, obedience is a _growing power of assimilation_ to Christ. We grow in the Christian life according to the measure of our faith andthe exercise of our love. The spiritual world is potentially ours atthe beginning of the Christian life, but it has to be worked out indaily experience. Like every other form of existence spiritual life isa growth which only attains to strength and fruition through continualconflict and achievement. The soul is not a finished product. Inpatience it is to be acquired. [23] By trial and temptation, by toiland expenditure, through all the hardships and hazards of daily lifeits value is determined and its destiny shaped. And according to themeasure in which we use these experiences, and transmute them byobedience to the will of God into means of good, do we grow inChristian character and approximate to the full stature of the perfectMan. 

To this self-determining activity Eucken has given the name of'Activism. ' 'The basis of a true life, ' says this writer, 'must becontinually won anew. '[24] Activism acquires ethical characterinasmuch as it involves the taking up of the spiritual world into ourown volition and being. Only by this ceaseless endeavour do we advanceto fresh attainments of the moral life, and are enabled to assimilatethe divine as revealed to us in Christ. Nor is it merely theindividual self that is thus enriched and developed by obedience to thewill of God. By personal fidelity to the highest we are aiding themoral development of mankind, and are furthering the advancement of allthat is good and true in the world. Not only are we making {180} ourown character, but we are helping to build up the kingdom of God uponthe earth. 

Repentance, Faith, and Obedience are thus the human factors of the newlife. They are the moral counterparts of Grace. God gives and manappropriates. By repentance we turn from sin and self to the true homeof our soul in the Fatherhood of God. By faith we behold in Christ thevision of the ideal self. By obedience and the daily surrender ofourselves to the divine will we transform the vision into the reality. They are all manifestations of love, the responsive notes of the humanheart to the appeal of divine love. 

[1] Irenaeus, _Contra Haereses_, III. Xviii. 1. 

[2] Matt. Xx. 28; John xi. 51; Matt. Xxvi. 28; Mark xiv. 8, 9. 

[3] _The Analogy_, part II. Chap. V. 

[4] 2 Cor. V. 14 f. ; Rom. Vi. ; Ephes. Iii. 16, 17, v. 8. 

[5] Gal. Ii. 20. 

[6] Meyers, _Saint Paul_. 

[7] See Blewett, _The Christian View of the World_, pp. 88 ff. , wherethis subject is suggestively treated. 

[8] _Christ and Paul_. 

[9] Matt. Iii. 8; Luke iii. 8. 

[10] Acts xxvi. 20. 

[11] Rom. Xii. 12; Titus iii. 5. 

[12] 2 Cor. V. 17; Gal. Vi. 15. 

[13] See Begbie, _Broken Earthenware_. 

[14] _Varieties of Relig. Experience_. 

[15] Mark x. 15. 

[16] _Man and the Universe_, p. 220. 

[17] _Varieties of Religious Experience_, p. 80. 

[18] Cf. _Foundations: a Statement of Religious Belief by seven Oxfordmen_, Essay VI. , pp. 274 f. 

[19] Matt. Xviii. 3. 

[20] Matt. Xiii. 58; Mark vi. 5. 

[21] Cf. Stalker, _The Ethic of Jesus_, p. 179. 

[22] _Das Wesen des Christenthums_, p. 91, quoted by Stalker, _idem_, p. 176. 

[23] Luke xxi. 19. 

[24] _Life's Basis and life's Ideal_, p. 255. 

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SECTION D

CONDUCT

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CHAPTER XI

VIRTUES AND VIRTUE

So far we have gained some conception of the Christian ideal as thehighest moral good, and have learned also how the Christian character isbrought into being. We now enter upon a new section--the last stage ofour inquiry--and have to consider the 'new man'--his virtues, duties, andrelationships. 

The business lying immediately before us in this chapter is to considerthe accepted standards in which the Christian good is exhibited--thevirtues recognised by the Christian consciousness. 

What, then, are the particular forms or manifestations of character whichresult from the Christian interpretation of life? When we think of manas living in relation to his fellows, and engaging in the commonactivities of the world, what are the special traits of character whichdistinguish the Christian? These questions suggest one of the mostimportant, and at the same time one of the most difficult, tasks ofChristian Ethics--the classification of the virtues. The difficultyarises in the first instance from the ambiguity attaching to the term'virtue. ' It is often loosely used to signify a meritorious act--as inthe phrase, 'making a virtue of a necessity. ' It is frequently employedgenerally for a moral quality or excellency of character, and in thisrespect is contrasted with vice. Finally, virtues are sometimesidentified with duties. Thus we speak of the virtue of veracity. Butobviously we may also refer to the duty of veracity. The word _aretê_;signifies 'force, ' and was originally used as a property of bodies, plants, or animals. {184} At first it had no ethical import. In Atticusage it came to signify aptness or fitness of manhood for public life. And this signification has shaped the future meaning of its Latinequivalent--_virtus_ (from _vis_, strength, and not from _vir_, a man). 

Plato gave to the term a certain ethical value in connection with hismoral view of the social life, so that Ethics came to be designated thedoctrine of virtues. In general, however, both by the Greek and Romanmoralists, and particularly the Stoics, the word _virtus_ retainedsomething of the sense of force or capacity--a quality prized in thecitizen. The English word is a direct transcript of the Latin. TheGerman noun, _Tugend_ (from _taugen_, to fit) means capability, and isrelated to worth, honour, manliness. The word _aretê_ does notfrequently occur in the New Testament. [1] In the few passages in whichit appears it is associated with praiseworthiness. In one passage[2] ithas a more distinctly ethical signification--'add to your faithvirtue'--where the idea is that of practical worth or manhood. 

Virtue may be defined as the acquired power or capacity for moral action. From the Christian point of view virtue is the complement, or rather theoutcome, of grace. Hence virtues are graces. In the Christian sense aman is not virtuous when he has first appropriated by faith the newprinciple of life. He has within him, indeed, the promise and potency ofall forms of goodness, but not until he has consciously brought hispersonal impulses and faculties into the service of Christ can he becalled truly virtuous. Hence the Christian character is onlyprogressively realised. On the divine side virtue is a gift. On thehuman side it is an activity. Our Lord's figure of the vine and thebranches represents the relation in which Christian character stands toChrist. In like manner St. Paul regards the manifestations of theChristian life as the fruit of the Spirit--the inevitable and naturaloutgrowth of the divine seed of life implanted in the heart. Hencearises the importance of {185} cultivating the inner life of the spiritwhich is the root of all moral excellency. On the other hand it must beremembered that Christian morality is not of a different sort fromnatural morality, and the Christian virtues are not merely supernaturalqualities added on, but simply human virtues coloured and transfigured bygrace and raised to a higher value. The power to act morally, thecapacity to bring all our faculties into the service of the spirituallife, is the ground of Christian virtue just as it is of every naturalexcellence. From this it follows that the distinction sometimes madebetween natural goodness and Christian goodness is unsound. A virtue isnot a superlative act of merit, implying an excess of excellence beyondthe requirements of duty. From the Christian standpoint there are noworks of supererogation, and there is no room in the Christian life forexcess or margin. As every duty is a bounden duty, so every possibleexcellence is demanded of the Christian. Virtues prescribe duties;ideals become laws; and the measure is, 'Be ye perfect as your Father inheaven is perfect. ' The Stoic maxim, 'Nothing in excess, ' is inadequatein reference to moral excellence, and Aristotle's doctrine of the 'Mean'can hardly be applied without considerable distortion of facts. The onlyvirtue which with truth can be described as a form of moderation isTemperance. It has been objected that by his doctrine of the 'Mean'Aristotle 'obliterates the awful and absolute difference between rightand wrong. ' If we substitute, as Kant suggested, 'law' for 'mean, ' someof the ambiguity is obviated. Still, after all extenuation is made itmay be questioned whether any term implying quantity is a fit expressionfor a moral attribute. [3]

At the same time the virtues must not be regarded as mere abstractions. Moral qualities cannot be isolated from the circumstances in which theyare exercised. Virtue is character in touch with life, and it is only incontact with actual events that its quality can be determined. Actionsare not simply good or bad in themselves. They must {186} always bevalued both by their inner motives and intended ends. Courage orveracity, for example, may be exercised from different causes and for themost various ends, and occasionally even for those of an immoralnature. [4]

For these and similar reasons some modern ethical writers have regardedthe classification of the virtues as unsatisfactory, involving arbitraryand illogical distinctions in value; and some have even discarded the useof the word 'virtue' altogether, and substituted the word 'character' asthe subject of ethical study. But inasmuch as character must manifestitself in certain forms, and approximate at least to certain norms orideals of conduct, it may not be altogether superfluous to consider intheir relation and unity those moral qualities (whether we call themvirtues, graces, or norms of excellence) which the Christian aims atreproducing in his life. 

We shall consider therefore, first, the natural elements of virtue asthey have been disclosed to us by classical teachers. Next, we shallcompare these with the Christian conception of life, showing howChristianity has given to them a new meaning and value. And finally, weshall endeavour to reveal the unifying principle of the virtues byshowing that when transformed by the Christian spirit they are theexpressions or implicates of a single spiritual disposition or totalityof character. 

I

_The Natural Basis of the Virtues_. --At a certain stage of reflectionthere arises an effort not merely to designate, but to co-ordinate thevirtues. For it is soon discovered that all the various aspects of thegood have a unity, and that the idea of virtue as one and conscious isequivalent to the idea of the good-will or of purity of heart. Thus itwas seen by the followers of Socrates that the virtues are but differentexpressions of one principle, and that the ultimate good of character canonly be realised by the actual pursuit {187} of it in the recognisedvirtues. We do not sufficiently reflect, says Green, how great was theservice which Greek philosophy rendered to mankind. From Plato andAristotle comes the connected scheme of virtues and duties within whichthe educated conscience of Christendom still moves when it is impartiallyreflecting on what ought to be done. [5] Religious teachers may haveextended the scope of our obligations, and strengthened the motives whichactuate men in the performance of duty, but 'the articulated scheme ofwhat the virtues and duties are, in their difference and their unity, remains for us now in its main outlines what the Greek philosophers leftit. '[6]

Among ancient moralists four virtues, Wisdom, Courage, Temperance, Justice were constantly grouped. They were already traditional inPlato's time, but he adopts them as fundamental. Aristotle retainedPlato's list, but developed from it some minor excellences. 

Virtue, according to Plato, was the health or harmony of the soul; hencethe principle of classification was determined by the fitness of the soulfor its proper task, which was conceived as the attainment of the good orthe morally beautiful. As man has three functions or aspects, acognitive, active, and appetitive, so there are three correspondingvirtues. His function of knowing determines the primal virtue of Wisdom;his active power constitutes the virtue of Courage; while his appetitivenature calls for the virtue of Temperance or Self-control. These threevirtues have reference to the individual's personal life. But inasmuchas a man is a part of a social organism, and has relations to othersbeyond himself, justice was conceived by Plato as the social virtue, thevirtue which regulated and harmonised all the others. For the Stoicsthese four virtues embraced the whole life according to nature. It maybe noticed that Plato and Aristotle did not profess to have created thevirtues. Wisdom, fortitude, temperance, and justice were, as theybelieved, radical principles of the moral nature; and all they professedto do was to {188} awaken men to the consciousness of their naturalcapacities. If a man was to attain to fitness of life, then these werethe fundamental and essential lines on which his rational life mustdevelop. In every conceivable world these are the basal elements ofgoodness. Related as they are to fundamental functions of personality, they cannot be less or more. They stand for the irreducible principlesof conduct, to omit any one of which is to present a maimed or onlypartial character. In every rational conception of life they must remainthe essential and desirable objects of pursuit. It was not wonderful, therefore, when we remember the influence of Greek thought upon earlyChristianity, that the four classical virtues should pass over intoChristian Ethics. But the Church, recognising that these virtues hadreference to man's life in relation to himself and his fellow-men in thisworld alone, added to these the three Pauline Graces, Faith, Hope, andCharity, as expressive of the divine element in man, his relation to Godand the spiritual world. The first four were called natural, the lastthree supernatural: or the 'Cardinal' (_cardo_, a hinge) and the'Theological' virtues. They make in all seven, the mystic perfectnumber, and over against these, to complete the symmetry of life, wereplaced the seven deadly sins. 

II

_Their Christian Transformation_. --But now if we compare the cardinalvirtues with the conception of goodness revealed in Scripture, we are atonce conscious of a contrast. We seem to move in a new atmosphere, andto be confronted with a view of life in which entirely different valueshold. 

1. While in the New Testament many virtues are commended, no completedescription occurs in any single passage. The beatitudes may be regardedas our Lord's catalogue of the typical qualities of life, and adevelopment of virtuous life might be worked out from the Sermon on theMount. Beginning with poverty of spirit, {189} humility, and meekness, and rising up out of the individual struggle of the inner man, we attainto mercifulness and peaceableness--the spirit which bears the poverty ofothers, and seeks to make others meek and gentle. Next the desire forrighteousness finds expression in a readiness to endure persecution, tosupport the burden of duty in the midst of worldly conflict; and finallyin the highest stage the light of virtue shines through the clouds ofstruggle and breaks forth spontaneously, irradiating all who come intocontact with it, and constituting man the servant of humanity, the lightof the world. [7] Or we might turn to the apostle Paul, who regards thevirtues as the fruit of the Spirit, describing them in general as 'love, joy, peace, long-suffering, goodness, faith, gentleness, humility. '[8] Arich cluster is also mentioned as 'the fruit of light'--goodness, righteousness, truth. A further enumeration is given in Colossians wherethe apostle commends compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, long-suffering, forbearance, and forgiveness. [9] And once more there isthe often-quoted series in the Epistle to the Philippians, 'Whatsoeverthings are true, reverent, just, chaste, lovely, and kindly spokenof. '[10] Nor must we forget the characteristics of love presented in theapostle's 'Hymn of Charity. '[11] To these descriptions of St. Paul thereought to be added the remarkable passage in which St. Peter unfolds theprocess of the moral life from its seed to the perfect flower. [12]Though the authorship of this passage has been disputed, that fact doesnot make the representation less trustworthy and typical as an exhibitionof early Christian morality. According to this picture, just as in St. Paul's view, the whole moral life has its root in faith, and character isnothing else than the working out of the initial energy of the soul intovirtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and charity--all that makes life worthy and excellent. Character is notbuilt like a house, by the addition of stone to stone. It is evolved as{190} a plant from a seed. Given faith, there will ultimately emerge allthe successive qualities of true goodness--knowledge, temperance, patience--the personal virtues, rising upwards to godliness or the loveof God, and widening out to brotherhood, and thence to charity or a loveof mankind--a charity which embraces the whole world, even those who arenot Christian: the enemy, the outcast, and the alien. 

These descriptions are not formal or systematic, but are characterised bya remarkable similarity in spirit and tone. They all reflect the mind ofChrist, and put the emphasis where Jesus Himself invariably laid it--onlove. But the point to which we desire to draw attention is the contrastbetween the classical and the Christian type of virtue. The differenceis commonly expressed by saying that the pagan virtues were of a boldmasculine order, whereas the Christian excellences are of an amiable andpassive nature. 

Yet if we carefully examine the lists as given in Scripture, we shall seethat this is hardly a just distinction. Certainly Christianity brings tothe front some virtues of a gentle type which are apparently wanting inthe Platonic catalogue. But, on the other hand, the pagan virtues arenot excluded from the New Testament. They have an acknowledged place inChristian morality. Fortitude and temperance, not to speak of wisdom andjustice, are recognised as essential qualities of the Christiancharacter. Christianity did not come into the world as the negative ofall that was previously noble in human nature; on the contrary, it tookover everything that was good and true, and gave to it a legitimateplace. Whatsoever things, says the apostle, are true and just and fair, if there be any virtue or praise in them, think of these things. 

Courage is not disparaged by Christianity. In writing to Timothy Paulgives to this virtue its original significance. He only raises it to ahigher level, and gives to it a nobler end--the determination not to beashamed of bearing testimony, and the readiness to suffer hardship forthe Gospel's sake. And though the apostle does not expressly {191}commend courage in its active form in any other passage, we may gatherfrom the whole tenor of his life that bravery, fortitude, endurance, occupied a high place in his esteem. While he made no parade of hissufferings his life was a continual warfare for the Gospel. The courageof a man is none the less real because it is evinced not on thebattlefield, but in the conflict of righteousness. He who devoteshimself unnoticed and unrewarded, at the risk of his life and at thesacrifice of every pleasure, to the service of the sick and the debased, possesses courage the same in principle as that of the 'brave man'described by Aristotle. Life is a battle, and there are other objectsfor which a man must contend than those peculiar to a military calling. In all circumstances of his existence the Christian must quit himself asa man, and without courage no one can fulfil in any tolerable degree theduties of his station. 

In like manner temperance or self-control is a truly Christian virtue, and it finds repeated mention in Scripture. When, however, we comparethe conception of temperance as formulated by Aristotle with the demandof self-denial which the enlightened Christian conscience makes uponitself we are struck with a difference both in the motive and the scopeof the principle. Temperance as Aristotle conceived it was a virtueexhibited only in dealing with the animal passions. And the reason whythis indulgence ought to be checked was that the lusts of the fleshunfitted a man for his discharge of the civic duties. But, in view ofthe Greek idea that evil resides in the physical constitution of man, thelogical deduction would be the total suppression of the animal passionsaltogether. But from the Christian standpoint the physical instincts arenot an evil to be crushed, but rather a legitimate element in man whichis to be disciplined and brought into the service of the spiritual life. Temperance covers the whole range of moral activity. It means thepractical mastery of self, and includes the proper control and employmentof hand and eye, tongue and temper, tastes and affections, so that theymay become effective instruments of righteousness. The practice of {192}asceticism for its own sake, or abstinence dictated merely by fear ofsome painful result of indulgence, we do not now regard as a virtue. Thetrue form of self-denial we deem to be only rendered when we forbidourselves the enjoyment of certain legitimate inclinations for the sakeof some higher interest. Thus the scope of the virtue of temperance hasbeen greatly enlarged, and we present to ourselves objects of moralloyalty, for the sake of which we are ready to abandon our desires in afar greater variety of forms than ever occurred to the Greek. Anindulgence, for example, which a man might legitimately allow himself, heforgoes in consideration of the claims of his family, or fellow-workmen, or for the good of mankind at large, in a way that the ancient worldcould not understand. Christian temperance, while the same in principlewith the ancient virtue, penetrates life more deeply, and is fraught witha richer and more positive content than was contemplated by the Greekdemand. 

And the same may be said of the virtues of Wisdom and Justice. Wisdom isa New Testament grace, but mere calculating prudence or worldlyself-regard finds no place in the Christian scheme of life. We areenjoined, indeed, to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves in ourrelations with men; but what we are urged to cultivate is a mind for theright interpretation of the things of God, that spiritual insight whichdiscerns the things of the Spirit; and, while recognising life as adivinely given trust, seeks to obtain a wise understanding of our dutiestoward God and man. 

While the other virtues are to a certain extent self-regarding, Justiceis eminently social. At the very lowest it means 'equal consideration'for all, treating, as Kant would say, every man as an 'end, ' and not as ameans. Morally no man may disregard the claims of others. It is said, indeed, that we must be 'just before we are generous. ' But a full andperfect conception of Justice involves generosity. There is no suchthing as bare justice. Righteousness, which is the New Testamentequivalent, demands more than negative goodness, and in Christian Ethics{193} passes over into Charity, which finds and fulfils itself in others. Love here and always is the fulfilling of the law, and mercy, benevolence, kindness are the implicates of true justice. 

2. It is thus evident that the cardinal virtues are essential elementsof Christian character. Christianity, in taking over the moralconceptions of the ancient world, gave to them a new value and range bydirecting them to new objects and enthusing them with new motives. Ithas been truly said that the religion of Jesus so profoundly modified thecharacter of the moral ideals of the past that they became largely newcreations. The old moral currency was still kept in circulation, but itwas gradually minted anew. [13] Fortitude is still the cool and steadybehaviour of a man in the presence of danger; but its range is widened bythe inclusion of perils of the soul as well as the body. Temperance isstill the control of the physical passions; but it is also the rightplacing of new affections, and the consecration of our impulses to noblerends. Justice is still the suppression of conflict with the rights ofothers; but the source of it lies in giving to God the love which is Hisdue, and finding in the objects of His thought the subjects also of ourcare. Wisdom is still the practical sense which chooses the propercourse of action; but it is no longer a selfish calculation of advantage, but the wisdom of men who are seeking for themselves and others notmerely temporal good, but a kingdom which is not of this world. 

The real reason, then, why Christianity seems by contrast to accentuatethe gentler graces is not simply as a protest against the spirit ofmilitarism and the worship of physical power, so prevalent in the ancientworld--not merely that they were neglected--but because they and theyalone, rightly considered, are of the very essence of that perfection ofcharacter which God has revealed to man in Christ. What Christianity hasdone is not to give pre-eminence to one class over another, but _to makehuman character complete_. Ancient civilisation was one-sided in itsmoral {194} development. The pagan conceptions of virtue were merelymaterialistic, temporal, and self-regarding. Christ showed that withoutthe spirit of love even such excellences as courage, temperance, andjustice did not attain to their true meaning or yield their fullimplication. Paul, as we have seen, did not disparage heroism, but hethought that it was exhibited as much, if not more, in patience andforgiveness as in self-assertion and retaliation. What Christianityreally revealed was a new type of manliness, a fresh application oftemperance, a fuller development of justice. It showed the might ofmeekness, the power of gentleness, the heroism of sacrifice. 

3. It is thus misleading to say that Christian Ethics differs fromancient morality in the prominence it gives to what have been called 'thepassive virtues. ' Poverty of spirit, humility, meekness, mercifulness, and peaceableness are indeed the marks of Christ's teaching. But asChrist conceived them they were not passive qualities, but intenselyactive energies of the soul. It has been well remarked that[14] therewas a poverty of spirit in the creed of the cynic centuries beforeChristianity. There was a meekness in the doctrine of the Stoic longbefore the advent of Jesus. But these tenets were very far from beinganticipations of Christ's morality. Cynic poverty of spirit was but thepoor-spiritedness of apathy. Stoic meekness was merely the indifferenceof oblivion. But the humility and lowliness of heart, the mercifulnessand peace-seeking which Christ inculcated were essentially powers ofself-restraint, not negative but positive attitudes to life. The motivewas not apathy but love. These qualities were based not on the idea thatlife was so poor and undesirable that it was not worthy of consideration, but upon the conviction that it was so grand and noble, something so farbeyond either pleasure or pain, as to demand the devotion of the entireself--the mastery and consecration of all a man's powers in thefulfilment and service of its divine end. 

Hence what Christianity did was not so much to institute {195} one typeof character for another as to exhibit for the first time the completeconception of what human life should be--a new creature, in whom, as inits great Exemplar, strength and tenderness, courage and meekness, justice and mercy were alike combined. For, as St. Paul said, in ChristJesus there is neither male nor female, but all are as one. And in thischaracter, as the same apostle finely shows, faith, hope, and charityhave the primary place, not as special virtues which have been added on, but as the spiritual disposition which penetrates the entire personalityand qualifies its every thought and act. 

III

_The Unification of the Virtues_. --While it is desirable, then, toexhibit the virtues in detail, it is even more important to trace backthe virtues to virtue itself. A man's duties are diverse, as diverse asthe various occasions and circumstances of life, and they can only comeinto being with the various institutions of his time, Church and State, home and country, commerce and culture. But the performance of these maybe slowly building up in him a consistent personality. It is incharacter that the unity of the moral life is most clearly expressed. There must be therefore a unity of character underlying the multiplicityof characteristics, one single and commanding principle at work in theformation of life of which every possible virtue is the expression. 

1. A unity of this kind is supplied by man's relation to God. Religioncannot be separated from conduct. If it were true, as Epicurus said, that the gods take no concern in human affairs, then not religion only, but morality itself would be in danger. As men's conceptions of God arepurified and deepened, they tend to exhibit the varied contents ofmorality in their connection with a diviner order. It is, then, thethought of man's relation to God which gives coherence to the moral life, and brings all its diverse manifestations into unity. 

{196}

If we examine the Christian consciousness as presented in the NewTestament, we find three words of frequent occurrence repeatedly groupedtogether, which may be regarded as the essential marks of Christiancharacter in relation to God--Faith, Hope, and Love. 

So characteristic are these of the new life that they have been calledthe theological virtues, because, as Thomas Aquinas says, 'They have Godfor their object: they bring us into true relation to God, and they areimparted to us by God alone. '[15]

2. These graces, however, cannot be separated. A man does not exerciseat one time faith, and at another time hope or love. They are all of apiece. They are but different manifestations of one virtue. Of theselove is the greatest, because it is that without which faith and hopecould not exist. Love is of the very essence of the Christian life. Itis its secret and sign. No other term is so expressive of the spirit ofChrist. It is the first and last word of apostolic Christianity. Lovemay be called the discovery of the Gospel. It was practically unknown inthe ancient world. _Eros_, the sensuous instinct and _philia_, the bondof friendship, did exist, but _agapê_ in its spiritual sense is thecreation of Christ. In Christian Ethics love is primal and central. Here we have got down to the bedrock of virtue. It is not simply onevirtue among many. It is the quality in which all the virtues have theirsetting and unity. From a Christian point of view every excellence ofcharacter springs directly from love and is the manifestation of it. Itis, as St. Paul says, 'the bond of perfectness. ' The several virtues ofthe Christian life are but facets of this one gem. [16]

Love, according to the apostle, is indispensable to character. Withoutit Faith is an empty profession; {197} Knowledge, a mere parade oflearning; Courage, a boastful confidence; Self-denial, a uselessasceticism. Love is the fruitful source of all else that is beautifuland noble in life. It not only embraces but produces all the othergraces. It creates fortitude; it begets wisdom; it promptsself-restraint and temperance; it tempers justice. It manifests itselfin humility, meekness, and forgiveness:

 'As every hue is light, So every grace is love. '

Love is, however, closely associated with faith and hope. Faith, as wehave seen, is theologically the formative and appropriating power bywhich man makes his own the spirit of Christ. But ethically it is a formof love. The Christian character is formed by faith, but it lives andworks by love. A believing act is essentially a loving act. It is agiving of personal confidence. It implies an outgoing of the selftowards another--which is the very nature of love. Hope, again, is but aparticular form of faith which looks forward to the consummation of thegood. The man of hope knows in whom he believes, and he anticipates thefulfilment of his longings. Hope is essentially an element of love. Like faith it is a form of idealism. It believes in, and looks forwardto, a better world because it knows that love is at the heart of theuniverse. As faith is the special counteragent against materialism inthe present, so hope is the special corrective of pessimism in regard tothe future. Love supplies both with vision. Christian hope, becausebased on faith and prompted by love, is no easy-going complacence whichsimply accepts the actual as the best of all possible worlds. TheChristian is a man of hope because in spite of life's sufferings he neverloses faith in the ideal which love has revealed to him. 'Tribulation, 'says St. Paul, 'worketh patience, and patience probation, and probationhope. ' Hope has its social aspect as well as its personal; like faith itis one of the mighty levers of society. Men of hope are the saviours ofthe world. In days of persecution and doubt it is their courage whichrallies the wavering hosts and gives others {198} heart for the struggle. Every Christian is an optimist not with the reckless assurance that callsevil good, but with the rational faith, begotten of experience, that goodis yet to be the final goal of ill. 'Thy kingdom come' is the prayer offaith and hope, and the missionary enterprise is rooted in the confidencebegotten of love, that He who has given to man His world-wide commissionwill give also the continual presence and power of His Spirit for itsfulfilment. 

3. Faith, hope, and charity are at once the root and fruit of all thevirtues. They are the attributes of the man whom Christ has redeemed. The Christian has a threefold outlook. He looks upwards, outwards, andinwards. His horizon is bounded by neither space nor time. He embracesall men in his regard, because he believes that every man has infiniteworth in God's eyes. The old barriers of country and caste, whichseparated men in the ancient world, are broken down by faith in God andhope for man which the love of Christ inspires. Faith, hope, and lovehave been called the theological virtues. But if they are to be calledvirtues at all, it must be in a sense very different from what theancients understood by virtue. These apostolic graces are not elementsof the natural man, but states which come into being through a changedmoral character. They connect man with God, and with a new spiritualorder in which his life has come to find its place and purpose. Theywere impossible for a Greek, and had no place in ancient Ethics. Theyare related to the new ideal which the Gospel has revealed, and obtaintheir value as elements of character from the fact that they have theirobject in the distinctive truth of Christianity--fellowship with Godthrough Christ. 

These graces are not outward adornments or optional accomplishments. They are the essential conditions of the Christian man. They constitutehis inmost and necessary character. They do not, however, supersede orrender superfluous the other virtues. On the contrary they transmute andtransfigure them, giving to them at once their coherence and value. 

[1] Phil. Iv. 8; 1 Peter ii. 9. 

[2] 2 Peter i. 5. 

[3] Cf. Sir Alex. Grant, _Aristotle's Ethics_. 

[4] Cf. Wundt, _Ethik_, p. 147. 

[5] Green, _Proleg. To Ethics_, section 249. 

[6] _Idem_. 

[7] Matt. V. 1-16. 

[8] Gal. V. 22-3. 

[9] Col. Iii. 12, 13. 

[10] Phil. Iv. 8. 

[11] 1 Cor. Xiii. 

[12] 2 Peter i. 5. 

[13] Strong, _Christian Ethics_. 

[14] Mathieson, _Landmarks of Christian Morality_. 

[15] _Summa_, I. Ii. 

[16] An interesting parallel might be drawn between the Paulineconception of Love as the supreme passion of the soul and lord of theemotions, and the Platonic view of Justice as the intimate spirit oforder alike in the individual and the state, expressing itself in, andharmoniously binding together, the virtues of Temperance, Courage, andWisdom. 

{199}

CHAPTER XII

THE REALM OF DUTY

We have now to see how the virtues issue in their corresponding dutiesand cover the whole field of life. 

Virtues and duties cannot be strictly distinguished. As Paulsenremarks, 'They are but different modes of presenting the samesubject-matter. '[1] Virtues are permanent traits of character; dutiesare particular acts which seek to realise virtues. 

The word 'duty, ' borrowed from Stoic philosophy, inadequatelydescribes, both on the side of its obligation and its joy, the servicewhich the Christian is pledged to offer to Christ. For the Christianthe two moments of pleasure and duty are united in the higher synthesisof love. 

In this chapter we shall consider, first, some aspects of Christianobligation; and, second, the particular duties which arise therefrom inrelation to the self, others, and God. 

I

ASPECTS OF DUTY

1. _Duty and Vocation_. --'While duty stands for a universal elementthere is a personal element in moral requirement which may be calledvocation. '[2] As soon as the youth enters upon the larger world he hasto make choice of a profession or life-work. Different principles mayguide him in his selection. First of all, the circumstances {200} oflife will help to decide the individual's career. Our calling andduties arise immediately out of our station. Already by parentalinfluence and the action of home-environment character is being shaped, and tastes and purposes are created which will largely determine thefuture. Next to condition and station, individual capacity anddisposition ought to be taken into account. No good work can beaccomplished in uncongenial employment. A man must have not onlyfitness for his task, but also a love for it. Proper ambition may alsobe a determining factor. We have a right to make the most ofourselves, and to strive for that position in which our gifts shallhave fullest scope. But the ultimate decision must be made in thelight of conscience. Self-interest should not be our sole motive inthe choice of a vocation. It is not enough to ask what is mostattractive, what line of life will ensure the greatest material gain orworldly honour? Rather should we ask, Where shall I be safest frommoral danger, and, above all, in what position of life, open to me, canI do the most good? It is not enough to know that a certain mode oflivelihood is permitted by law; I must decide whether it is permittedto me as a Christian. For, after all, underlying, and giving purposeand direction to, our earthly vocation is the deeper calling of Godinto His kingdom. These cannot, indeed, be separated. We cannotdivide our life into two sections, a sacred and a secular. Nor must werestrict the idea of vocation to definite spheres of work. Even thosewho are precluded by affliction from the activities of the world arestill God's servants, and may find in suffering itself their divinelyappointed mission. There is a divinity which shapes our ends, and inevery life-calling there is something sacred. 'Saints, ' says GeorgeEliot, 'choose not their tasks, they choose but to do them well. '

But the decisions of life do not cease with the choice of a calling. At every moment of our career fresh difficulties arise, and newopportunities open up which demand careful thought. Our firstobligation is to meet faithfully the claims of our station. But in thecomplexity of life we are {201} being constantly brought into widerrelations with our fellow-men, which either modify the old, or createentirely new situations. While the rule is to do the duty that liesnearest us, to obey the call of God at each moment, it needs no littlewisdom to discern one's immediate duty, and to know what the will ofGod actually is. 

2. _Conflict of Duties_. --In the sphere of duty itself a three-folddistinction, having the imprimatur of the Romish Church, has been madeby some moralists: (1) the problem of colliding interests; (2)'counsels of perfection'; and (3) indifferent acts or 'Adiaphora, 'actions which, being neither commanded nor forbidden, fall outwith thedomain of Christian obligation. It will not be necessary to discuss atlength these questions. The Gospel lends no support to suchdistinctions, and as Schleiermacher points out they ought to have noplace in Protestant Ethics. [3]

(1) With regard to the 'conflict of duties, ' when the collision isreally, as it often is, a struggle between inclination and duty, thequestion answers itself. There are, of course, cases in whichperplexity must occur to an honest man. But the difficulty cannot bedecided by drawing up a list of axiomatic precepts to fit allconceivable cases. In the dilemma, for example, betweenself-preservation and self-sacrifice which may present itself in sometragic experience of life, a host of considerations relative to theindividual's history and relationships enter in to modify thesituation, and the course to be taken can be _finally_ determined by aman's _own_ conscience alone. Ultimately there can be no collision ofduties as such. Once a man recognises a certain mode of conduct to beright for him there is really no choice. In judgment he may err;passion or desire may obscure the issue; but once he has determinedwhat he ought to do there is no alternative, 'er kann nicht anders. '

(2) Again, it is a complete misapprehension of the nature of duty todistinguish between the irreducible minimum and acts of supererogatorygoodness which outrun duty. {202} Goodness is one, and admits of nodegrees. All duty is absolute. An overplus is unthinkable, since noman can do more than his duty. A Christian can only do what herecognises as his obligation, and this he ought to fulfil at everymoment and with all his might. Love, which is the Christian's onlylaw, knows no limit. Even when we have done our utmost we are stillunprofitable servants. 

(3) Finally, the question as to whether there are any acts which areindifferent, permissible, but neither enjoined nor forbidden, must alsobe answered in the negative. If the Christian can do no more than hisduty, because in every single action he seeks to fulfil the whole willof God, it is clear that there can be no moment of life that can bethought of not determined by the divine will. There is no part of lifethat is colourless. There must be no dropped stitches in the textureof the Christian character. 

It is most frequently in the domain of amusement that the notion of the'Permissible' is applied. It has been contended that as recreationreally lies outwith the Christian sphere, it may be allowed toChristian people as a concession to human weakness. [4] But can thisposition be vindicated? Relaxation is as much a need of man as work, and must, equally with it, be brought within the scope of Christianconduct. We have no business to engage in any activity, whetherinvolving pleasure or pain, that we cannot justify to our conscience. Are not the joys of life, and even its amusements, among God's giftsdesigned for the enriching of character? And may not they, too, beconsecrated to the glory of God? We are to use the world while notabusing it, for all things are ours if we are Christ's. Over everydepartment of life the law of Christ is sovereign, and the ultimateprinciple applicable to all problems of duty is, 'Whatsoever ye do inword or deed do all to the glory of God. '

3. _Rights and Duties_. --The foregoing question as to the scope ofduty leads naturally to the consideration of the relation of duties andrights. It is usual to distinguish {203} between legal and moralrights; but at bottom they are one. The rights which I legally claimfor myself I am morally bound to grant to others. A right is expressedin the form of a permission; a duty, of an imperative. I may or maynot demand my legal rights; morally, I must perform my duties. But, onthe other hand, a right may be secured by legal compulsion; a duty, asa moral obligation, can never be enforced by external power: it needsour own assent. [5]

Strictly speaking rights and duties are correlative. Every rightcarries with it an obligation; not merely in the objective sense thatwhen one man has a right other men are under the obligation to respectit, but also in the subjective sense that when a man has a right he isbound to use it for the general good. It is sometimes said, 'A man maydo what he likes with his own. ' Legally that may be true, but morallyhe is under obligation to employ it for the general good just asstrictly as if it were another's. A man's rights are not merelydecorations or ends in themselves. They are opportunities, instruments, trusts. And when any man has them, it means that he isplaced on a vantage-ground from which, secure of oppression orinterference, he may begin to do his duty. [6] But this moral aspect ofright is often lost sight of. People are so enamoured of what theycall their rights that they forget that the real value of every rightdepends upon the use to which they put it. A man's freedom does notconsist in having rights, but in fulfilling them. 'After all, ' saysMazzini, 'the greatest right a man can possess or recognise--thegreatest gift of all--is simply the privilege and obligation to do hisduty. '[7] This is the only Christian doctrine of rights. It underliesour Lord's teaching in the parable of the Talents. We only have whatwe use. 

(1) Much has been written of the 'Natural rights of Man. '[8] This wasthe claim of a school of political philosophy of {204} which Paine wasthe most rigorous exponent. The contentions of Paine were met asvigorously by the negations of Bentham and Burke. And if it besupposed that the individual is born into the world with certainready-made possessions, fixed and unalterable, the claim is untenable. Such an artificial account of man ignores entirely the evolution ofmoral nature, and denies the possibility of development in man'sconception of law and duty. 'It is, ' as Wundt says, 'to derive all themoral postulates that have been produced in our minds by previous moraldevelopment from moral life as it actually exists. '[9]

(2) But while the 'natural rights of man' cannot be theoreticallyvindicated, they may still be regarded as ends or ideals to be strivenafter. 'Justifiable or unjustifiable in theory, they may still remaina convenient form in which to couch the ultimatum of determinedmen. '[10] They give expression, at least, to a conviction which hasgrown more clear and articulate with the advance of thought--theconviction of the _dignity and worth of the individual_. This thoughtwas the keynote of the Reformation. The Enlightenment, with its appealto reason, as alike in all men, gave support to the idea of equality. Descartes claimed it as the philosophical basis of man's nature. Rousseau and Montesquieu were among its most valiant champions. Kantmade it the point of departure for the enforcement of human right andduty. Fichte but elaborated Kant's view when he contended for 'theequality of everything which bears the human visage. '[11] And Hegelhas summed up the conception in what he calls 'the mandate ofright'--'Be a person, and respect others as persons. '[12] Poetssometimes see what others miss. And in our country, at least, it is toWordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning, and still more, perhaps, to Burns, that we are indebted for the insistence upon the native worth of man. 

But if this claim has only gradually attained to articulate {205}expression, and is only now being made the basis of socialreconstruction, it must not be forgotten that it is essentially aChristian truth. In Harnack's language, 'Jesus Christ was the first tobring the value of every human soul to light, and what He did no onecan any more undo. '[13]

When, however, the attempt is made to analyse this ultimate principleof manhood, opinions differ as to its constituents, and a long list of'rights' claimed by different political thinkers might be made. Thefamous 'Declaration of Rights'[14] included Life, Liberty, Property, Security, and 'Resistance of Oppression. ' To these some have added'Manhood Suffrage, ' 'Free Access to the Soil, ' and a commondistribution of the benefits of life and means of production. This isa large programme, and certainly no community as yet has recognised allits items without qualification. Obviously they are not all of thesame quality, nor are they of independent validity; and at best theybut roughly describe certain factors, considered by various agitatorsas desirable, of an ideal social order. 

(3) We are on safer ground, and for Christian Ethics, at least, more inconsonance with ultimate Christian values, when we describe the primaryrealities of human nature in terms of the revelation of life as givenby the Person and teaching of Jesus Christ. The three great veritiesupon which He constantly insisted were, man's value for himself, hisvalue for his fellow-men, and his value for God. These correspondgenerally to the three great ethical ideas of life--Personality, Freedom, and Divine Kinship. But although the sense of independence, liberty and divine fellowship is the first aspect of a being who hascome to the consciousness of himself, it is incomplete in itself. Manplants himself upon his individuality in order that he may set out fromthence to take possession, by means of knowledge, action, and service, of his larger world. Man's rights are but {206} possibilities whichmust be transmuted by him into achievements. 

 'This is the honour, --that no thing I know, Feel, or conceive, but I can make my own Somehow, by use of hand or head or heart. '[15]

Rights involve obligations. The right of personality carries with itthe duty of treating life, one's own and that of others, as sacred. The right of freedom implies the use of one's liberty for the good ofthe society of which each is a member. And finally, the sense ofdivine kinship involves the obligation of making the most of one'slife, of realising through and for God all that God intends in the giftof life. 

In these three values lies the Christian doctrine of man. [16] Becauseof their fullness of implication they open out to our vision the goalof humanity--the principle and purpose of the whole process of humanevolution--the perfection of man. Given these three Christiantruths--the Sacredness of Personality, the Brotherhood of Man, and theFatherhood of God--and all that is essential in the claim of the'Natural Rights of Man' is implicitly contained. The one thing needfulis that men become alive to their privileges and go forward to 'possesstheir possessions. '

II

SPHERES OF DUTY

We are thus led to a division, natural if not wholly logical, of dutieswhich spring from these rights--duties towards self, others, and God. Though, indeed, self-love implies love of others, and all duty is dutyto God, still it may be permissible to frame a scheme of dutiesaccording as one or other element is prominent in each case. 

1. _Duties in Relation to Self_. --It is obvious that without (1)_respect_ for self there can be no respect for others. I am {207} apart of the moral whole, and an element in the kingdom of God. Icannot make myself of no account. Our Lord's commandment, 'Thou shaltlove thy neighbour as thyself, ' makes a rightly conceived self-love themeasure of love to one's neighbour. Self-respect involves (2)_self-preservation_, the care of health, the culture of body and mind. Not only is it our duty to see that the efficiency and fitness of thebodily organism is fully maintained, but we must also guard it againsteverything that would defile and disfigure it, or render it aninstrument of sin. Christianity requires the strictest personalpurity, purity of thought and feeling as well as of deed. It demands, therefore, constant vigilance, self-control, temperance, and evenself-denial, so that the body may be, not, as the ancients thought, theprison-house of the soul, but the temple of the Holy Spirit. Christianity is, however, opposed to asceticism. Though Jesus deniedHimself to the uttermost in obedience to the voice of God, there is inHis presentation of life a complete absence of those austerities whichin the history of the Church have been so often regarded as marks ofsuperior sanctity. [17] It is unnecessary here to dwell upon athleticsand sport which now so largely occupy the attention of the youth of ourland. Physical exercise is necessary to the maintenance of bodilyfitness, yet it may easily become an all-absorbing pursuit, and insteadof being merely a means to an end, may usurp the place in life whichbelongs to higher things. 

(3) Self-maintenance involves also the duty of _self-development_, andthat not merely of our physical, but also of our mental life. If thebody has its place and function in the growth of Christian character, still more has the mind its ethical importance. Our Maker can have nodelight in ignorance. He desires that we should present not afragmentary but complete manhood. Specialisation, though a necessityof the age, is fraught with peril to the individual. The exigencies oflabour require men to concentrate their energies on their own immediatetasks; but each must seek to be not merely a craftsman, but a man. Other sides {208} of our nature require to be cultivated besides thosewhich bring us into contact with the ways and means of existence. Indeed, it is only by the possession of a well-trained mind that thefullest capacity, even for special pursuits, can be obtained. It hasbecome a commonplace to say that every man should have equality ofopportunity to earn a livelihood. But equality of opportunity foreducation, as something which ought to be within the reach of everyyouth in the land, is not so frequently insisted upon. Beyond theclaims of daily occupation every one should have a chance, and, indeed, an inducement, to cultivate his mental and spiritual nature. Hencewhat is called 'culture, ' the all-round development of the humanfaculties, is an essential condition of moral excellence. For, asGoethe has said, the object of education ought to be rather theformation of tastes than simply the communication of knowledge. Butmost important of all the self-regarding aims of life is the obligationof _Self-discipline_, and the use of every means of moral culture whichthe world supplies. It is through the complex conditions of earthlyexistence that the character of the individual is developed. It willonly be possible to indicate briefly some of the aids to the culture ofthe moral life. Among these may be mentioned: (_a_) _The ProvidentialExperiences of life_. The world itself, as a sphere of Work, Temptation, and Suffering, is a school of character. The affectionsand cares of the home, the duties and tasks incident to one's calling, the claims of one's fellow-men, the trials and temptations of one'slot--these are the universal and common elements in man's moraleducation. Not to escape from the world's activities and conflicts, but to turn them into conditions of self-mastery, is the duty of each. Men do work, but work makes men. The shopkeeper is not merely sellingwares; the artisan or mechanic is not simply engaged in his handicraft;the mason and builder are not only erecting a house; each is, in andthrough his toil, making his own soul. And so, too, suffering andtemptation are the tools which God commits to His creatures for theshaping of their own lives. Saints {209} and sinners are made out ofthe same material. By what Bosanquet has finely called 'the miracle ofwill' the raw stuff of life is taken up and woven into the texture ofthe soul. (_b_) The so-called _secular opportunities of culture_. Innumerable sources of self-enrichment are available. Everything maybe made a vehicle of moral education. Knowledge generally, andespecially the ministry of nature, the influence of art, and the studyof literature, are potent factors in the discipline and development ofChristian character. To these must be added (_c_) _The specialreligious aids and means of grace_. From an ethical point of view theChurch is a school of character. It 'guards and keeps alive thecharacteristic Christian ideas, and thereby exhibits and promotes theChristian ideal of life. '[18] Its fellowship, worship, and ordinances;its opportunities of brotherly service and missionary activity, as wellas the more private spiritual exercises of prayer and meditation--allare means of discipline and gifts committed to the stewardship ofindividuals in order that they may realise the greatness of life'spossibilities, and attain through union with God to the fullness oftheir stature in Christ. 

But while the truth that the soul has an inalienable worth isrepeatedly affirmed, the New Testament touches but lightly upon theduties of self-regard. To be occupied constantly with the thought ofone's self is a symptom of morbid egoism rather than of healthypersonality. The avidity of self-improvement and even zeal forreligion may become a refined form of selfishness. We must be willingat times to renounce our personal comfort, to restrain our zest forintellectual and aesthetic enjoyment, to be content to be less culturedand scholarly, less complete as men, and ready to part with somethingof our own immediate good that others may be ministered to. Hence thechief reason probably why the Scriptures do not enlarge upon the dutiesof self-culture is, that according to the spirit of the Gospel the truerealisation of self is achieved through self-sacrifice. Only as a manloses his life does he find it. To horde [Transcriber's note: hoard?]one's {210} possessions is to waste them. Growth is the condition oflife. But in all growth there is reciprocity of expenditure andassimilation, of giving and receiving. Self-realisation is only gainedthrough self-surrender. Not, therefore, by anxiously standing guardover one's soul, but by dedicating it freely to the good of others doesone achieve one's true self. 

2. _Duties in Relation to Others_. --We belong to others, and othersbelong to us. They and we are alike parts of a larger whole. 

(1) While this is recognised in Scripture, and all men are declared tobe brothers in virtue of their common humanity, Christianity traces thebrotherhood of man to a deeper source. The relation of the individualto Christ is the true ground of love to others. In Christ alldistinctions which in other respects separate men are dissolved. Beneath the meanest garb and coarsest features, in spite even of thedefacement of sin, we may detect the vast possibilities of the soul forwhom Christ has died. The law of love is presented by Jesus as thehighest of all the commandments, and the duty to others is summed upgenerally in what is known as the golden rule. Of the chiefmanifestations of brotherly love mention must be made (_a_) of thecomprehensive duty of _Justice_. The ground upon which justice restsis the principle that each individual is an end in himself. Hence itis the duty of each to respect the rights of his neighbours, negativelyrefraining from injury and positively rendering that which ourfellow-men have a right to claim. Religion makes a man more sensitiveto the claims of humanity. Mutual respect requires a constant efforton the part of all to secure for each the fullest freedom to behimself. Christianity interprets justice to mean emancipation fromevery condition which crushes or degrades a man. It seeks to create asocial conscience, and to arouse in each a sense of responsibility forthe good of all. At the same time social justice must not beidentified with charity. Charity has done much to relieve distress, and it will always form an indispensable element in {211} theChristian's duty towards his less fortunate brethren; but somethingmore radical than almsgiving is required if the conditions of life areto be appreciably bettered. Justice is a demand not for bread alone;it is a claim of humanity to life, and all that life ought to mean. Christianity affirms the spirit of human brotherhood--a brotherhood inwhich every child will have a chance to grow to a noble manhood, andevery man and woman will have opportunity and encouragement to live afree, wholesome, and useful life. That is the Christian ideal, and tohelp towards its realisation is the duty laid upon every citizen of thecommonwealth. The problems of poverty, housing, unemployment, intemperance, and all questions of fair wages, legitimate profits, andjust prices, fall under the regulative principle of social justice. The law is, 'Render to all their dues. ' The love which worketh no illto his neighbour will also withhold no good. [19]

(_b_) _Truthfulness_. --Justice is not confined to acts, but extends tospeech and even to thought. We owe to others veracity. Even when themotive is good, there can be no greater social disservice than to failin truthfulness. Falsehood, either in the form of hypocrisy orequivocation, and even of unsound workmanship, is not only unjust toothers; it is unjust to ourselves, and a wrong to the deeper self--thenew man in Christ. [20]

Is deception under all circumstances morally wrong? Moralists havebeen divided on this question. The instance of war is frequentlyreferred to, in which it is contended that ruse and subterfuge arepermissible forms of strategy. [21] There are, however, manydistressing cases of conscience, in which the duties of affection andveracity seemingly conflict. It must be remembered that no command canbe carried out to its extreme, or obeyed literally. Truth is notalways conveyed by verbal accuracy. There may be higher interests atstake which might be prejudiced, and indeed unfairly represented by amerely literal statement. {212} The individual conscience must decidein each case. We are to speak the truth in love. Courage andkindliness are to commingle. But when all is said it is difficult toavoid the conclusion that in the last analysis lack of truth argues adeficient trust in the ultimate veracities of the universe, and restsupon a practical unbelief in the divine providence which can make 'allthings work together for good to them that love God. '

(_c_) Connected with truthfulness, and also a form of justice, is theduty enjoined by St. Paul of forming _just judgments_ of ourfellow-men. If we would avoid petty fault-finding and high-mindedcontempt, we must dismiss all prejudice and passion. The two qualitiesrequisite for proper judgment are knowledge and sympathy. Goethe has afine couplet to the effect that 'it is safe in every case to appeal tothe man who knows. '[22] But to understanding must be addedappreciative consideration. We must endeavour to put ourselves in theposition of our brother. Without a finely blended knowledge andsympathy we grow intolerant and impatient. Fairness is the rarest ofmoral qualities. He who would estimate another truly must have whatSt. Paul calls 'spiritual discernment'--the 'even-balanced soul' of one'who saw life steadily and who saw it whole. '

(2) Brotherly Love evinces itself further in _Service_, which takes thethree forms of Compassion, Beneficence or practical kindness, andExample. 

(_a_) _Compassion_ or sympathy is a readiness to enter into theexperiences of others. As Christians nothing that concerns our brothercan be a matter of indifference to us. As members of the samespiritual community we are participators in each other's joys andsorrows, 'weeping with those that weep, and rejoicing with those thatrejoice. ' It is no mere natural instinct, but one which grows out ofthe Christian consciousness of organic union with Christ. 'When onemember suffers, all the members suffer with it. '[23] {213} We fulfilthe law of Christ by bearing one another's burdens. 

(6) _Practical Beneficence_ is the natural outcome of sympathy. Feelings pass into deeds. Those redeemed by the love of Christ becomethe agents of His love, gladly dispensing to others what theythemselves have received. The ministry of love, whatever shape it maytake, must, in the last resort, be a giving of self. No one can do akindness who does not put something of himself into it. No trueservice can be done that does not cost us more than money. 

In modern society it is inevitable that personality should largely findits expression and exercise in material possessions. Without enteringhere upon the question of the institution of private property, it isenough to say that the possession of material goods may be morallydefended on the twofold ground, that it ensures the security ofexistence, and is an essential condition of the development ofindividual and national resources. The process of acquisition is amoralising influence, since it incites the individual to work, andtends to create and foster among men interchange of service. Property, says Hegel, is the embodiment and instrument of the will. [24] But in acivilised community there must be obviously restrictions to theacquisition and use of wealth. Unbridled appropriation andirresponsible abuse are alike a peril to society. The State hastherefore the right of interference and control in regard to allpossessions. Even on the lowest ground of expediency the very idea ofproperty involves on the part of all the principle of co-operation andreciprocity--the obligation of contributing to the general weal. Itwould, however, be most undesirable that the government shouldundertake everything for the general good of man that is now left tospontaneous effort and liberality. But from the standpoint ofChristian Ethics possessions of all kinds are subject to the law ofstewardship. [25] Every gift is {214} bestowed by God for the purposeof social service. No man can call the things which hepossesses--endowments, wealth, power--his own. He is simply a trusteeof life itself. No one may be an idler or parasite, and society has ajust claim upon the activity of every man. The forms of such serviceare various; but the Christian spirit will inspire a sense of 'theultimate unity of all pursuits that contribute to the good of man. '[26]

The ministry of love extends over the whole realm of existence, andvaries with every phase of need. Physical necessities are to be met inthe spirit of charity. St. Paul pleads repeatedly the cause of thepoor, and commends the grace of liberality. Giving is to be cheerfuland without stint. But there are needs which material aid cannotmeet--desolation, anxiety, grief--to which the loving heart alone canfind ways of ministering. And beyond all physical and moral need isthe need of the soul; and it lies as a debt upon those who themselveshave experienced the grace of Christ to seek the renewal and spiritualenrichment of their brethren. 

(_c_) There is one special form of practical kindness towards otherswhich a follower of Christ will often be called upon to exercise--thespirit of _forbearance and forgiveness_. The Christian is to speakevil of no man, but to be gentle, showing all meekness unto all men;living peaceably with all men, avoiding everything provocative ofstrife; even 'forbearing one another and forgiving one another, if anyhave a quarrel against any; even as Christ forgave you so also do ye. '

(3) Finally, we may serve others by _Example_, by letting the light oflife so shine before men that they seeing our good works shall glorifyGod our Father. This duty, however, as Fichte points out, 'has oftenbeen viewed very incorrectly, as if we could be obliged to do this orthat, which otherwise we would not have needed to do, for the sake of agood example. '[27] That which I am commanded {215} to do I must do forits own sake without regard to its effect upon others. Esteem can beneither outwardly compelled nor artistically produced; it manifestsitself voluntarily and spontaneously. A modern novelist[28] ironicallyexposes this form of altruism by putting into the mouth of one of hercharacters the remark, 'I always make a point of going to church inorder to show a good example to the domestics. ' At the same time noone can withhold one's influence; and while the supreme motive must be, not to make a display, but to please God, he who is faithful to hisstation and its duties cannot fail to affect his fellow-men for good. The most effective example is given unconsciously, as the rose exhalesits sweetest perfume without effort, or the light sheds its radiancesimply by being what it is. 

3. _Duties in Relation to God_. --Here morality runs up into religion, and indeed since all duties are in their last analysis duties towardGod, Kant and other moralists have objected to the admission intoEthics of a special class of religious obligations. It has been wellremarked that the genuine Christian cannot be known by particularprofessions or practices, but only by the heavenly spirit of hislife. [29] Hence religious duty cannot be formulated in a number ofprecise rules. Love to God finds expression not in mechanicalobedience, but in the spontaneous outflow of the heart. The specialduties to the Divine Being may be briefly described under the mainheads of Recognition, Obedience, and Worship. 

(1) _Recognition_. --The acknowledgment of God rests upon knowledge. Without some comprehension of what God is there can be no intelligentallegiance to Him. We cannot, indeed, by logical reasoning demonstratethe existence of the Deity any more than we can demonstrate our ownbeing. But He has not left Himself without a witness, and He speaks toman with many voices. The material creation is the primary word ofGod. The beauty, and still more the sublimity, of nature are arevelation through {216} matter of something beyond itself, a messageof the spiritual, bearing 'authentic tidings of invisible things. ' Butnature is symbolic. It is a prophecy rather than an immediaterevelation. Still it warrants the expectation of a yet fullermanifestation. That fuller utterance we have in man himself. There, spirit reveals itself to spirit; and in the two primary intuitions ofman--self-consciousness and the sense of moral obligation--the presenceof God is disclosed. But, higher still, the long historic evolutionhas culminated in a yet clearer manifestation of the Deity. In Christ, the God-Man, the mystery underlying and brooding over the world isunveiled, and to the eye of faith is revealed the Fatherhood of God. 

The first duty, therefore, we owe to God is that of recognition, theacknowledgment of His presence in the world. To feel that He iseverywhere, sustaining and vitalising all things; to recognise His willin all the affairs of our daily life, is at once the duty andblessedness of man. 

(2) _Obedience_ follows acknowledgment. It is partly passive andpartly active. 

(_a_) As _passive_, it takes the form of habitual trust or_acquiescence_, the submissive acceptance of trials which areultimately, we believe, not really evils, because ordained by God andoverruled for good. [30] This spirit of obedience can be maintained by_constant vigilance_ alone. [31] While connected with the anticipatedcoming of the Son of Man, the obligation had a more generalapplication, and may be regarded as the duty of all in the face of theunknown and unexpected in life. We are therefore to watch for anyintimation of the divine will, and commit ourselves trustfully to theabsolute disposal of Him in whose hands are the issues of our lives. 

(_b_) But obedience has also an _active_ side. _Faithfulness_ is thecomplement of faith. The believer must exercise fidelity, and goforward with energy and purpose to the tasks committed to him. Asstewards of Christ we are {217} to occupy till He come, employing everytalent entrusted to us in His service. Work may be worship, and we canglorify God in our daily tasks. No finer tribute can a man give thansimply himself. 

(3) _Worship_. --The special duties of worship belong to the religiousrather than the ethical side of life, and do not demand here more thana passing reference. The essence of religion lies in the subordinationof the finite self to the infinite; and worship is the consciousoutgoing of the man in his weakness and imperfection to his Maker, andit attains its fullest exercise in (_a_) _reverence_, humility, anddevotion. The feeling of dependence and sense of need, together withthe consciousness of utter demerit and inability which man realises ashe gazes upon the majesty and grace of God, awaken the (_b_) instinctof _prayer_. 'It is the sublime significance of prayer, ' says Wuttke, 'that it brings into prominence man's great and high destiny, that itheightens his consciousness of his true moral nature in relation toGod; and as morality depends on our relation to God, prayer is the verylife-blood of morality. '[32] The steadfast aspiration of the soul toGod, whose will is our law and whose blessing is granted to whatsoeveris done in His name, is the habitual temper of the Christian life. Butprayer must also be particular, definite, and expectant. By a law ofour nature, and apart from all supernatural intervention, prayerexercises a reflex influence of a very beneficial character upon themind of the worshippers. But he who offers his petitions expectingnothing more will not even attain this. 'If prayers, ' says Mr. Lecky, 'were offered up solely with a view to this benefit, they would beabsolutely sterile and would speedily cease. '[33] The purelysubjective view of prayer as consisting solely in 'beneficentself-suggestion' empties the term of significance. Even FrederickMeyers, who lays so much stress upon the importance of self-suggestionin other aspects of experience, admits that prayer is something morethan a subjective {218} phenomenon. 'It is not only a calling up ofone's own private resources; it must derive its ultimate efficacy fromthe increased flow from the infinite life into the life of thesuppliant. '[34]

(_c_) Prayer attains its highest expression in _Thanksgiving and Joy_. Gratitude is the responsive feeling which wells up in the heart ofthose who have experienced the goodness of God, and recognise Him asthe great Benefactor. Christians are to abound in thankfulness. Welive in a world where everything speaks to us of divine love. Praiseis the complement of prayer. The grateful heart sees lifetransfigured. It discovers everywhere tokens of grace and hope, 'Making the springs of time and sense Sweet with eternal good. '

Peace, trust, joy, hope are the ultimate notes of the Christian life. 'Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks. 'Thanksgiving, says St. Bernard, 'is the return of the heart to God inperpetual benediction. '

In the kingdom of love duty is swallowed up in joy. Life is nothingbut the growing realisation of God. With God man's life begins, and toHim turns back at last in the wrapt contemplation of His perfect being. In fellowship with God man finds in the end both himself and hisbrother. 

 'What is left for us, save, in growth Of soul, to rise up, far past both, From the gift looking to the Giver, From the cistern to the river, And from the finite to the Infinity And from man's dust to God's divinity?'[35]

'God, ' says Green, 'is a Being with whom we are in principle one, inthe sense that He is all which the human spirit is capable ofbecoming. '[36] In the worship of God, {219} man dies to the temporalinterests and narrow ends of the exclusive self, and lives in anever-expanding life in the life of others, manifesting more and morethat spiritual principle which is the life of God, who lives and lovesin all things. [37]

[1] Paulsen, _Ethics_, bk. III. Chap. I. Cf. Also Wundt, _Ethik_, p. 148. But see also W. Wallace, _Lectures and Essays_, p. 325, on theirconfusion. 

[2] Mackintosh, _Chr. Ethics_, p. 114. 

[3] Cf. Haering, _Ethics of Chr. Life_, p. 230. 

[4] This seems to be the position of Herrmann; see _Ethik_. 

[5] Cf. Eucken, _Life's Basis_, p. 185. 

[6] Maccunn, _Ethics of Citizenship_, p. 40. 

[7] _Duties of Man_, chap. I. 

[8] See discussion by late W. Wallace in _Lectures and Essays_, pp. 213ff. 

[9] _Ethik_, p. 190. 

[10] Maccunn, _op. Cit. _; p. 42. 

[11] Cf. Eucken, _Main Currents of Modern Thought_, p. 348. 

[12] Hegel, _Philosophy of Right_, p. 45. 

[13] _Das Wesen des Christenthums_; cf. Also _Ecce Homo_, p. 345. 

[14] Adopted in Massachusetts in 1773. --'All men have equal rights tolife, liberty, and property. '

[15] Browning, _Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau_. 

[16] Cf. Wheeler Robinson, _The Christian Doctrine of Man_, pp. 281 f. 

[17] Matt. Xi. 18; Luke vii. 33. 

[18] Ottley, _Ideas and Ideals_. 

[19] Rom. Xiii. 7-10. 

[20] Col. Iii. 9, 10. 

[21] See Lecky, _Map of Life_. 

[22] _Vor dem Wissenden sich stellen, sicher ist's in allen Fällen_. 

[23] 1 Cor. Xii. 26. 

[24] _Phil. Of Right_, pp. 48 ff. ; see also Wundt, _Ethik_, pp. 175 f. 

[25] Cf. Ottley, _Idem_, p. 271. 

[26] Green, _Proleg. _, p. 173, quoted by Ottley. 

[27] _Science of Ethics_ (trans. ), p. 337. 

[28] Miss Fowler, _Concerning Isabel Carnaby_. 

[29] Drummond, _Via, Veritas, Vita_, p. 227. 

[30] Matt. Viii. 25 f. , x. 26; Luke viii. 23 f. 

[31] Matt. Xxv. 1 f. ; Mark xxiv. 42; Luke xii. 36 f. 

[32] _Chr. Ethics_ (trans. ), vol. Ii. P. 221. 

[33] _Hist. Of Europ. Morals_, vol. I. P. 36. 

[34] _Human Personality_, vol. Ii. P. 313. 

[35] Browning, _Christmas Eve_. 

[36] _Proleg. _, p. 198. 

[37] Cf. Jones, _Browning as Philosophical and Religious Teacher_, p. 367. 

{220}

CHAPTER XIII

SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS

In last chapter we dealt with the rights and duties of the individualas they are conditioned by his relation to himself, others, and to God. In this chapter it remains to speak more particularly of the organisedinstitutions of society in which the moral life is manifested, and bymeans of which character is moulded. These are the Family, the State, and the Church. These three types of society, though distinguishable, are closely allied. At first, indeed, they were identical. Humansociety had its origin, most probably, in a primitive condition inwhich domestic, political, and religious ends were one. Even in modernlife Family, State, and Church do not stand for separate interests. Sofar from their aims colliding they are mutually helpful. An individualmay be a member of all three at one time. From a Christian point ofview each is a divine institution invested with a sacred worth and aholy function, and ordained of God for the advancement of His kingdom. 

I

_The Family_ is the fountain-head of all the other social groups, 'thecell of the social organism. ' Man enters the world not as an isolatedbeing, but by descent and generation. In the family each is cradledand nurtured, and by the domestic environment character is developed. The family has a profound value for the nation. Citizenship rests onthe sanctity of the home. When the fire on the hearth is quenched, thevigour of a people dies. 

{221}

1. Investigations of great interest and value have been pursued inrecent years regarding the origin and evolution of the family. Howeverfar back the natural history of the race is carried, it seems scarcelypossible to resist the conclusion that some form of family relationshipis coeval with human life. Widely as social arrangements differ indetail among savage peoples, arbitrary promiscuity can nowhere bedetected. Certain laws of domestication have been invariably found toexist, based upon definite social and moral restrictions universallyacknowledged and rigidly enforced. Two primitive conditions arepresent wherever man is found--the tribe and the family. If the familyis never present without the tribe, the tribe is never discoveredwithout 'those intra-tribal distinctions and sexual regulations whichlie at the bottom of the institution of the family. '[1] Westermarckindeed says that 'the evidence we possess tends to show that among ourearliest human ancestors the family and not the tribe formed thenucleus of every social group, and in many cases was itself perhaps theonly social group. The tie that kept together husband and wife, parents and children, was, if not the only, at least the principalfactor in the earliest forms of man's social life. '[2] If the familyhad been an artificial convention called into being by human will andingenuity, it might conceivably be destroyed by the same factors. Butwhatever arguments may be adduced for the abolition of marriage andfamily life to-day, the appeal to primitive history is not one of them. On the contrary the earliest forms of society show that the family isno invention, that it has existed as long as man himself, and that allsocial evolution has been a struggle for the preservation of its mostvaluable features. [3]

2. If, even in early times, and especially among the Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, the family was an important factor in national development, it has been infinitely more so {222} since the advent of Christianity. Christ did not create this relationship. He found it in existence whenHe came to the earth. But He invested it with a new ethical value. Helaid upon it His consecrating touch, and made it the vehicle of allthat is most tender and true in human affection, so that amongChristian people to-day no word is fraught with such hallowedassociations as the word 'home. ' This He did both by example andteaching. As a member of a human family Himself, He participated inits experiences and duties. He spent His early years in the home ofNazareth, and was subject unto His parents. He manifested His glory ata marriage feast. By the grave of Lazarus He mingled His tears withthose of the sorrowing sisters of Bethany. He had a tender regard forlittle children, and when mothers brought their infants to Him Hewelcomed them with gracious encouragement, and, taking the little onesin His arms, blessed them, thus consecrating for all time bothchildhood and motherhood. Throughout His life there are indications ofHis deep reverence and affection for her who was His mother, and withHis latest breath he confided her to the care of His beloved disciple. 

There are passages indeed which seem to indicate a depreciation offamily relationships. [4] The most important of these are the sayingswhich deal with the home connections of those whom He called to specialdiscipleship. [5] Not only are father and mother to be loved less thanHe, but even in comparison with Himself are to be hated. [6] Among thesacrifices His servants must be ready to make is the surrender of thehome. [7] But these references ought to be taken in conjunction with, and read in the light of, His more general attitude to the claims ofkindred. It was not His indifference to, but His profound regard for, home ties that drew from Him these words. He knew that affection maynarrow as well as widen the heart, and that our {223} tenderestintimacies may bring our most dangerous temptations. There are momentsin the history of the heart when the lesser claim must yield to thegreater. For the Son of Man Himself, there were interests higher eventhan those of the family. Some men, perhaps even most, are able tofulfil their vocation without a surrender of the joys of kinship. Butothers are called to a wider sphere and a harder task. For the sake ofthe larger brotherhood of man, Jesus found it necessary to renounce theintimacies of home. What it cost Him to do so we, who cannot fathomthe depth of His love, know not. Even such an abandonment did Hedemand of His first disciples. And for the follower of Christ stillthere must be the same willingness to make the complete sacrifice ofeverything, even of home and kindred, if they stand in the way ofdevotion to the kingdom of God. [8]

(1) Our Lord's direct statements regarding the nature of the familyleave us in no doubt as to the high place it holds in His conception oflife. Marriage, upon which the family rests, is, according to Jesus, the divinely ordained life-union of a man and woman. In His quotationfrom Genesis He makes reference to that mysterious attraction, deeplyfounded in the very nature of man, by which members of the opposite sexare drawn to each other. But while acknowledging the sensuous elementin marriage, He lifts it up into the spiritual realm and transmutes itinto a symbol of soul-communion. Our Lord does not derive the sanctionof wedded life from Mosaic legislation. Still less does He permit itas a concession to human frailty. It has its ground in creationitself, and while therefore it is the most natural of earthlyrelationships it is of God's making. To the true ideal of marriagethere are several features which our Lord regards as indispensable. (_a_) It must be _monogamous_, the fusion of two distinctpersonalities. 'They two shall be one flesh. ' Mutual self-impartationdemands that the union should be an exclusive one. (_b_) It is a_union of equality_. Neither {224} personality is to be suppressed. The wedded are partners who share one another's inmost thoughts andmost cherished purposes. But this claim of equality does not excludebut rather include the different functions which, by reason of sex andconstitution, each is enabled to exercise. 'Woman is not undevelopedman but diverse. ' And it is in diversity that true unity consists. Both will best realise their personality in seeking the perfection ofone another. (_c_) It is a _permanent_ union, indissoluble till theparting of death. The only exception which Christ acknowledges is thatform of infidelity which _ipso facto_ has already ruptured the sacredbond. [9] According to Jesus marriage is clearly intended by God toinvolve sacred and permanent obligations, a covenant with God, as wellas with one another, which dare not be set aside at the dictate of awhim or passion. The positive principle underlying this declarationagainst divorce is the spirit of universal love that forbids that thewife should be treated, as was the case among the dissolute of ourLord's time, as a chattel or slave. Nothing could be more abhorrent toChristian sentiment than the modern doctrine of 'leasehold marriage'advocated by some. [10] It has been ingeniously suggested that therecord of marital unrest and divorce in America, shameful as it is, maynot be in many cases altogether an evil. The very demand to annul aunion in which reverence and affection have been forfeited may springfrom a growing desire to realise the true ideal of marriage. [11] (_d_)Finally, it is a _spiritual_ union. It is something more than a legalcontract, or even an ecclesiastical ordinance. The State must indeedsafeguard the civil rights of the parties to the compact, and theChurch's ceremony ought to be sought as the expression of divineblessing and approval. But of themselves these do not constitute theinner tie which makes the twain one, and binds them together amid allthe chances and changes of this earthly life. [12] In the teaching ofboth Christ and {225} the apostles marriage is presented as a highvocation, ordained by God for the enrichment of character, and investedwith a holy symbolism. According to St. Paul it is the emblem of themystic union of Christ and His Church, and is overshadowed by thepresence of God, who is the archetype of those sacred ideas which weassociate with the name of fatherhood. 

(2) Though marriage is the most personal of all forms of socialintercourse, there are many varied and intricate interests involvedwhich require _legal recognition_ and adjustment. Questions as to thelegitimacy of offspring, the inheritance of property, the status andrights of the contracting parties, come within the domain of law. TheState punishes bigamy, and forbids marriage within certain degrees ofconsanguinity. Many contend that the State should go further, andprevent all unions which endanger the physical vigour and efficiency ofthe coming generation. It is undoubtedly true that the government hasa right to protect its people against actions which tend to thedeterioration of the race. To permit those to marry who are sufferingfrom certain maladies of mind or body is to commit a grave crimeagainst society. But care must be taken lest we unduly interfere withthe deeper spiritual sympathies and affections upon which a true unionis founded. In agitating for State control in the mating of thephysically fit, the champions of eugenics are apt to exaggerate thematerialistic side of marriage, and overlook those qualities of heartand mind which are not less important for the well-being of the race. In the discipline of humanity weakness and suffering are assets whichthe world could ill afford to lose. [13]

(3) In modern times the institution of marriage is menaced by twoopposite forces; on the one hand, by a revolutionary type of socialism, and on the other, by the reactionary influence of self-interestedindividualism. (_a_) It is contended by some advanced socialists thatamong {226} the poor and the toiling home life is practicallynon-existent; indeed, under present industrial conditions, impossible. Marriage and separate family life are insuperable barriers, it is said, to corporate unity and social progress. It is but fair to add thatthis extreme view is now largely repudiated by the most enlightenedadvocates of a new social order, who are contending, they tell us, notfor the abolition, but for the betterment, of domestic conditions. [14](_b_) The stability of social life is being threatened even moreseriously by a self-centred individualism. Marriage is considered as amerely temporary arrangement which may be terminated at will. It iscontended that divorce should be granted on the easiest terms, and themost trifling reasons are seriously put forward as legitimate groundsfor the annulling of the holiest of vows. Without discussing thesedisintegrating influences, it is enough to say that the trend ofhistory is against any radical tampering with the institution ofmarriage, and any attempt to disparage the sanctity of the home orbelittle domestic obligations would be to poison at its springs themoral life of man. 

3. The duties of the various members of the family are explicitly, ifbriefly, stated in the apostolic epistles. They are valid for alltimes and conditions. Though they may be easily elaborated they cannotwell be improved. All home obligations are to be fulfilled _in_ and_unto_ the Lord. The fear of God is to inspire the nurture ofchildren, and to sanctify the lowliest services of the household. Authority is to be blended with affection. (1) _Parents_ are not toprovoke their children by harsh and despotic rule, nor yet to spoilthem by soft indulgence. _Children_ are to render obedience, and, whenable, to contribute to the support of their parents. [15] Masters areto treat their servants with equity and respect. Servants are exhortedto show fidelity. In short all the relationships of the household areto be hallowed by the spirit of Christian love. 

Many questions relative to the family arise, over which {227} we maynot linger. One might speak of the effect of industrial conditionsupon domestic life, the employment of women and children in factories, the evil of sweating, the problem of our city slums, and, generally, ofthe need of improved environment in order that our labouring classesmay have a chance of a healthier and purer home existence. Legislationcan do much. But even law is ineffective to achieve the highest endsif it is not backed by the public conscience. The final solution ofthe problem of the family rests not in conditions but in character, notin environment but in education, in the kind of men we are rearing. 

(2) This century has been called the _woman's_ century. And certainlythere is an obvious trend to-day towards acknowledgment, in alldepartments of life, of women's equality with men. There is, however, a difference of opinion as to what that equality should mean; and thereseems to be a danger in some quarters of overlooking the essentialdifference of the sexes. No people can achieve what it ought while itswives and mothers are degraded or denied their rights. For her ownsake, as well as for the weal of the race, whatever is needful toenable woman to attain to her noblest womanhood must be unhesitatinglygranted. [16]

(3) But this is even more the _children's_ era. A new sense ofreverence for the child is one of the most promising notes of our age, and the problems arising out of the care and education of the younghave created the new sciences of pedagogy and child-psychology. Regardfor child-life owes its inspiration directly to the teaching of Christ. The child in the simplicity of its nature and innocence of itsdependence is, according to the Master, the perfect pattern of thosewho seek after God. It is true that in the art of antiquity child-lifewas frequently represented. But as Burckhardt says it was the drolleryand playfulness, even the quarrelsomeness and stealth, and above allthe lusty health and animal vigour of young life that was depicted. Ancient art did not behold in the child the prophecy of a new and purerworld. Moreover, it was aesthetic {228} feeling and not real sympathywith childhood which animated this movement. As time went on theteaching of Christ on this subject was strangely neglected, and thehistory of the treatment of the young is a tragic tale of neglect andsuffering. Only now are we recovering the lost message of Jesus inregard to the child, and we are beginning to realise that infancy andyouth have their rights, and demand of the world both care andaffection. Ours sons and daughters are the nation's assets. Yet it isa parent's question even more than the State's. In a deeper sense thanwe imagine children are the creation of their parents. It is theeffect of soul upon soul, the mother's touch and look, the father'swords and ways, that kindle into flame the dull material of humanity, and begin that second birth which should be the anxiety and glory ofparenthood. But if the parent makes the child, scarcely less true isit that the child makes the parent. In the give and take of home lifea new world is created. When a father really looks into his child'seye he is not as he was before. [17] Indispensable as is the State'seducation of the young, there is an important part which the communitycannot undertake, and there is a danger in curbing individuality by astereotyped method of instruction. 'All social enactments, ' saysHarnack, 'have a tendency to circumscribe the activities of theindividual. If we unduly fetter the free play of individual effort webreak the mainspring of progress and enterprise, and create a state ofsocial immobility which is the antecedent of national decay. '[18]Youth ought to be taught self-reliance and strenuousness of will; andthis is a work which can only be done in the home by the firm yetkindly influence of the parents. But there is another aspect of thehome problem not less pressing. The want of training in working-classfamilies is largely answerable for the waifs and strays with which ourcities team. Even in middle-class households there are indications ofa lack not only of discipline, but of {229} that kindly sympathy andaffectionate counsel on the part of parents, and of reverence andfrankness in the children; with the result that the young people, missing the attachment and interest which the home should supply, seektheir satisfaction outside the domestic circle, often with the mostdisastrous results. The problem of the family is thus the problem ofnurturing the very seeds of the moral life. Within the precincts ofthe nation's homes the future of the commonwealth is being determined. 

II

1. The _State_ is the supreme controller of social relationships. Asdistinguished from the family and the Church, it is the realm oforganised force working for social ends. Its purpose is to secure theconditions of life essential to order and progress, and it can fulfilits function only as it is endowed with power to enforce its authority. The interference of the State with the liberty of the individual hascreated a reaction in two opposite quarters towards complete abrogationof all State compulsion. On the one side Tolstoy pleads for theremoval of force, because it violates the principle of love andsubverts the teaching of Jesus--'Resist not evil. ' Militant anarchismas the other extreme demands the abrogation of authority, because itbelieves that restraint hinders progress and happiness, and that ifgovernmental force were abolished individuals would be best able totake care of themselves. The aim of anarchism is to destroy force byforce; the aim of Tolstoy is to allow force to do its worst. Such aspirit of non-resistance would mean the overthrow of all security, andthe reversion to wild lawlessness. It is an utter travesty of Christ'steaching. Extremes meet. Violence and servility join hands. Anarchism and Tolstoyism reveal the total bankruptcy of unrestrictedindividualism. 

The social order for which the State stands is not so much aninterference with the freedom of the subject as the condition underwhich alone individual liberty can be preserved. {230} The view, however, that the State is an artificial relationship into which menvoluntarily enter in order to limit their selfish instincts and tosecure their mutual advantages--the theory of the 'socialcontract'--has been discarded in modern times as a fiction of theimagination. It is not of his own choice that the individual becomes amember of society. He is born into it. Man is not a whole in himself. He is only complete in his fellows. As he serves others he serveshimself. But men are not the unconscious functions of a mechanicalsystem. They are free, living personalities, united by a sense ofhuman obligation and kindredship. The State is more than a physicalorganism. It is a community of moral aims and ideals. Even law, whichis the soul of the State, is itself the embodiment of a moralprinciple; and the commonwealth stands for a great ethical idea, to thefulfilment of which all its citizens are called upon to contribute. 

2. The reciprocal duties of the State and its citizens receivecomparatively little prominence in the New Testament. But they arenever treated with disparagement or contempt. During our Lord'searthly life the supreme power belonged to the Roman Empire. ThoughJesus had to suffer much at the hands of those in authority, Hishabitual attitude was one of respect. He lived in obedience to thegovernment of the country, and acknowledged the right of Caesar tolegislate and levy taxes in his own province. While giving alldeference to the State officials before whom He was brought, He did nothesitate to remind them of the ideal of truth and justice of which theywere the chosen representatives. [19] St. Paul's teaching is in harmonywith his Master's, and is indeed an expansion of it. [20] 'The powersthat be are ordained of God. Render therefore to all their dues, tribute to whom tribute. ' Beyond, however, enjoining the necessity ofwork as a means of independence, and recommending that each shouldremain in the sphere in which he has been placed, and performconscientiously the duties of his calling, we {231} find little directreference in the Epistles to the matter of citizenship. But as hasbeen truly said 'the citizen has but to stand in his station, andperform its duties, in order to fulfil the demands of citizenship. '[21]St. Paul's insistence therefore upon the personal fidelity of every manto the duties of his sphere goes far to recognise that spirit ofreciprocal service which is the fundamental idea of the commonwealth. 

3. Of the two extreme views as to the meaning of the State betweenwhich the verdict of history has wavered--that of Augustine, whoregarded the State as the result of man's sinful condition and as thedirect antithesis of the kingdom of God; and that of Hegel, who saw init the highest ethical form of society, the realisation of the moralideal--the view of St. Paul may be said to have approximated morenearly to the latter. Writing to the Christians at Rome Paul does notsuggest that it was merely for prudence' sake that they should give tothe Imperial Power unquestioning obedience. He appeals to the loftiestmotives. All authority is of God in its origin and ultimate purpose. What does it matter to him whether Nero be a devil or a saint? He isthe prince upon the throne. He is the symbol of divine authority, 'theminister of God to thee for good. ' As a Christian Paul looks beyondthe temporal world-power as actually existing. Whatever particularform it may assume, he sees in the State and its rulers only theexpression of God's will. Rome is His agent, oppressive, and, it maybe, unjust, but still the channel through which for the moment theAlmighty works for the furtherance of His purposes. [22]

The conception of the State as thus formulated involves a twofoldobligation--of the State towards its citizens, and of its citizenstowards the State. 

(1) As the embodiment of public right the State owes protection to itssubjects, guarding individual privileges and prohibiting such actionsas interfere with the general {232} good. Its functions, however, arenot confined to restrictive measures. Its duty is not only to protectthe rights of the individual, but to create and maintain suchconditions of life as are essential to the development of personality. In its own interests it is bound to foster the growth of character, andto promote culture and social well-being. In modern times we look tothe State not only to protect life and property, but to secure for eachindividual and for all classes of men that basis of material well-beingon which alone life in its truest sense can be built up. Thegovernment must therefore strike some kind of balance between theextremes of individualism and socialism. While the old theory of_laissez-faire_, which would permit every man to follow his ownindividual bent without regard to the interests of others, has beengenerally repudiated, there is still a class of politicians whoridicule the 'night watchman' idea of the State as Lassalle calls it. 'Let there be as little State as possible, ' exclaims Nietzsche. According to such thinkers the State has only negative functions. Thebest government is that which governs least, and allows the utmostscope to untrammelled individual enterprise. But if there is atendency on the part of some to return to the individualisticprinciple, the 'paternal' idea as espoused by others is being carriedto the verge of socialism. The function of the State is stretchedalmost to breaking point when it is conceived as the 'guardian angel'who accompanies and guards with perpetual oversight the whole life ofthe individual from the cradle to the grave. Many of the more cautiouswriters[23] of the day are exposing the dangers which lurk in thebureaucratic system of government. This tendency is apt to crushindividual enterprise, and cause men to place entire reliance uponexternal aid and centralised power. It is indeed difficult to draw afast line of demarcation between purely individual and social ends. There are obviously primary interests belonging to society as a wholewhich the State, if it is to be the instrument of the common good, ought to control; certain {233} activities which, if permitted asmonopolies, become a menace to the community, and which can besatisfactorily conducted only as departments of the State. Nationallife is a unity, and it can only maintain its integrity as it securesfor all its constituents, justice, equity before the law, and freedomof each to be himself. The State ought to protect those who in thecompetitive struggle of the modern industrial system find themselves ata hopeless disadvantage. It is the duty of the commonwealth to securefor each the opportunity to become what he is capable of being, and tofulfil the functions for which he is best fitted. The State cannotmake men moral, but it can interfere with existing conditions so as tomake the moral life easier for its citizens. Criminal law cannotcreate saints, but it can punish evil-doers and counteract the forcesof lawlessness which threaten the social order. It cannot legislatewithin the domain of motive, but it can encourage self-restraint andthrift, honesty and temperance. It cannot actually intermeddle withthe sanctity of the home, or assume the rôle of paternal authority, butit can insist upon the fulfilment of the conditions of decency andpropriety; it can condemn insanitary dwellings, suppress traffic invice, supervise unhealthy trades, protect the life and health ofworkmen, and, generally, devise means for the culture and theadvancement, intellectually and morally, of the people. The State insome degree embodies the public conscience, and as such it has theprerogative of awakening and stimulating the consciences ofindividuals. As a divine institution it is one of the channels throughwhich God makes His will known to man. Law has an ethical import, andthe State which is founded upon just and beneficent laws moulds thecustoms and forms the characters of its citizens. 

(2) But if the State is to fulfil its ideal function it must rely uponthe general co-operation of its citizens. The measure of its successor failure will depend upon the extent to which an enlightened sense ofmoral obligation prevails in the community. Men must rise above their{234} own immediate interests and realise their corporate being. Government makes its will dominant through the voice of the people. Itcannot legislate beyond the sympathies of its constituents. As theindividuals are, so the commonwealth will be. Civil duties varyaccording to the qualifications and opportunities of individuals. Butcertain general obligations rest upon all. 

(_a_) It is the duty of all to take an _interest in public affairs_. What concerns us collectively is the concern of each. Everything thattouches the public good should be made a matter of intelligent andwatchful interest by all. (_b_) It is the duty of all to _conform tothe laws_ of the country. It is possible that a particular enactmentmay conflict with the dictates of conscience, and it may be necessaryto protest against what seems to be an injustice. No rule can be laiddown for exceptional cases. Generally it will be best to submit to thewrong, while at the same time using all legitimate means to secure therepeal of the obnoxious law. And if they will revolt, martyrs must notcomplain nor be unready to submit to the penalties involved. (_c_) Itis the further duty of all to take some _personal part_ in thegovernment--if not by active service, at least by the conscientiousrecording of one's vote. Christians must not leave the direction ofthe nation's affairs to non-Christians. The spirit of Christ forbidsmoral indifference to anything human. All are not fitted for, orcalled upon to take, public office; but it is incumbent upon every manto maintain an intelligent public spirit, and to exercise all theduties of good citizenship. It has been truly said that they who givemost to the State get most from the State. It is the men who playtheir part as active citizens working for the nation's cause who enrichtheir own lives and reap the harvest of a full existence. Not bywithdrawal from social service, but in untiring labour for theircountry's weal, shall men win for themselves and their brethren thefruits of liberty and peace. For nations as for men emancipation maycome with a stroke, but freedom can be earned only by strenuous andunited toil. 

{235}

(3) Already these ideals have begun to take shape. The mostsignificant feature of modern times is the growing spirit of democracy. Men of all classes are awakening to their rights, and are acceptingtheir share in the task of social reconstruction. 'We know how themasses, ' says Eucken, 'are determined to form a mere dependent body ofthe so-called higher classes no longer, but to take the problem of lifeindependently into their own hands. '[24] But while the moderndemocratic movement is not without its hopeful aspects, it is fraughtalso with grave perils. It is well that the people should awake totheir obligations, and realise the meaning of life, especially in itssocial implications. But there is a danger that culture may notadvance with emancipation, and while the masses demand their rightsthey may not at the same time discern their duties. For rights involveduties, and emancipation, as we have seen, is not liberty. The appealof the socialistic party is to the equality of all who bear humanfeatures. It sounds plausible. But there never has been, nor nevercan be, such equality. Nature and experience alike reveal a pronouncedand insuperable inequality among men. The law of diversity strikesdeep down into the very origin and constitution of mankind. Theequality proclaimed by the French Revolutionists is now regarded as anidle dream. Not equality of nature but equity before the law, justicefor all, the opportunity for every man to realise himself and make themost of the life and the gifts which God has given him--that is theonly claim which can be truly made. 'The only idea, ' says Eucken, 'which can give to equality any meaning is the conviction that humanityhas spiritual relations, that each individual has a value for himselfand for the whole because he is a part of a larger spiritual world. 'Hence if democracy is truly to come to its own and fulfil its highvocation, the Pauline figure of the reciprocal influence of the bodyand its members must be proclaimed anew as the ideal of the bodypolitic--a unity fulfilling itself in difference--an organic life inwhich the unit finds its {236} place of security-and-service in thewhole, and the whole lives in and acts through the individual parts. 

If we are to awaken to the high vocation of the Christian state, torealise the possibilities of our membership one with another, a newfeeling of manhood and of national brotherhood, a new pride in thecommunity of life, must take possession of our hearts. We need, as onehas said, a baptism of religious feeling in our corporateconsciousness, a new sense that we are serving God in serving ourfellows, which will hallow and hearten the crusade for health andsocial happiness, and give to every citizen a sense of spiritualservice. 

III

Unlike the family and State the _Church_ is the creation of JesusChrist. It is the witness of His Presence in the world. In its idealform it is world-wide. The Redemption for which it stands is a goodfor all men. Though in practice many do not acknowledge its blessing, the Church regards no man beyond its pale of grace. It is set in themidst of the world as the symbol and pledge of God's universal love. 

1. The _Relation of Church and State_ is a difficult question with along history, and involving much controversy. Whatever view may beheld as to their legal connection, their interests can never beregarded as inimical. The Church cannot be indifferent to the actionof the State, nor can the State ignore the work of the Church. Butsince their spheres are not identical nor their aims entirely similar, the trend of modern opinion seems to indicate that, while working inharmony, it is more satisfactory that they should pursue independentpaths. There are spiritual ends committed to the Church by its Headover which the civil power has no jurisdiction. On the other handthere are temporal concerns with which ecclesiastical courts haveneither the vocation nor the qualifications to deal. Still, theChurch, as the organ of Christian thought {237} and activity, hasresponsibilities with regard to civil matters. While religion is thechief agent in the regeneration of man, religion itself is dependentupon all social means, and the Church must regard with sympathy everyeffort made by the community for moral improvement. The main functionof the Church in this connection is to keep before its members a highideal of social life, to create a spirit of fidelity in every sphere ofactivity, and, particularly, to educate men for the tasks ofcitizenship. The State, on the other hand, as the instrument of civiclife, has obligations towards the Church. Its duty is hardly exhaustedby observing an attitude of non-interference. In its own interests itis bound, not merely to protect, but encourage the Church in thefulfilment of its immediate aims. Parliament, however, must concede toecclesiastical bodies complete liberty to govern themselves. TheChurch, as the institution of Christ, claims full autonomy; and theState goes beyond its province when it imposes hampering restrictionswhich interfere with the exercise of its authority and disciplinewithin its own sphere. 

2. As a religious institution the Church exists for three mainpurposes: (1) the _Worship_ of God and the Edification of its members;(2) the _Witness_ of Christ to Mankind; (3) the _Evangelisation_ of theWorld. 

(1) The first of these objects has already been dealt with whentreating of the duties to God. It is only needful to add here that theChurch is more than a centre of worship; it is the home of kindredsouls knit together by a common devotion to Christ. It is the schoolof character which seeks the mutual edification of its members 'byprovoking one another to love and to good works. ' Hence amongProtestants the duty of _Church Discipline_ is acknowledged, whichdeals with such sins or lapses from rectitude as constitute 'offences'or 'scandals, ' and tend to bring into disrepute the Christian name andprofession. In the Roman Church, the Confessional, through which moralerror is avowed, with its system of penances, has in view the sameobject--viz. , to reprove, correct, and reclaim {238} those who havelapsed into sin--thus seeking to fulfil Christ's ideal 'to despair ofno man. '

(2) But the Church is also a rallying place of service. Both in itscorporate capacity, and through the lives of its individual members, the Church seeks to bear constant _witness to the mind of Christ_. Itproclaims His living example. It reiterates His will and embodies Hisjudgment, approving of what is good, condemning what is evil, and evermore confronting the world with the high ideal of the divine Life andWord. Not all who bear the name of Christ are consistent witnesses. But still the aim of the Church is to harmonise the profession andpractice of its members, and generally to spiritualise secular life bythe education of public opinion. Before, however, Christians can hopeto make a profound impression upon the outside world, it is notunnatural to expect that they should exhibit a _spirit of concord_, among themselves, seeking to heal the unhappy schisms by which theChurch is rent. But while our separations are deplorable--and we oughtnot to cease our endeavour for the reunion of Christendom--we must notforget that there may be harmony of spirit even amid diversity ofoperation, and that where there is true brotherly sympathy betweenChristians, there already is essential unity. [25]

(3) The special work of the Church to which it is constrained by theexpress terms of its Master's commission, is to _preach the Gospel_ toevery creature and to bring all men into obedience to Christ. Adistinction is commonly made between Home and Foreign Missions. Whilethe distinction is useful, it is scarcely valid. The work of theChurch at home and abroad is one. The claims of the ignorant andhapless of our own land do not exempt us from responsibilities to theheathen world. The Lord's Prayer for the coming of the Kingdomrequires of Christian men that they shall consecrate their gifts alongevery line of effort to the fulfilment of the divine will upon theearth. 

3. While all sections of the Church are convinced that {239} an honestapplication of the principles of Jesus to the practical affairs of lifewould speedily transform society, there is considerable diversity ofopinion as to the proper attitude of Christianity to _social problems_. The outward reconstruction of social order was not, it must beadmitted, the primary aim of Jesus: it was rather the spiritualregeneration of the individual. But such could only become a realityas it transformed the entire fabric of life. (1) Christ's teachingcould not but affect the organisation of industry as well as everyother section of the social structure. Though Jesus has many warningsas to the perils of riches, there is no depreciation of wealth (in itstruest sense). It is true He refuses to interfere in a dispute betweentwo brothers as to worldly property, and repudiates generally theoffice of arbiter. It is true also that He warns His disciples againstcovetousness, and lays down the principle that 'a man's life consistethnot in the abundance of the things which he possesseth. ' But thesesayings, so far from implying disapproval of earthly possessions, implyrather that property and trading are the indispensable basis upon whichthe outward fabric of the social order is built. Christ does notcounsel withdrawal from the activities of the world. He honours work. He recognises the legitimacy of trading. Many of His parables wouldhave no meaning if His attitude to the industrial system of His day hadbeen one of uncompromising hostility. He has no grudge against richesin themselves. In the parable of the talents it is the comparativelypoor man who is censured while the rich is commended. To sum up whatJesus thought about wealth is not easy. Many have thought that Hecondemned the holding of property altogether. But such a conclusioncannot be drawn from His teaching. Possessions, both outward andinward, are rather to be brought to the test of His judgment. Hisinfluence would rather bring property and commerce under the control ofrighteousness and brotherhood. His ideal of life is to be attainedthrough learning the right use of wealth rather than through theabolition of it. Wealth {240} can be used for the kingdom of God, andit is a necessary instrument in the Church's work. It may beconsecrated like every other gift to the service of Christ. But thereare mighty forces enlisted against its best usefulness, and onlythrough the fullness of Christian grace can its good work be done. What Jesus does condemn however is the predatory instinct, that greedof gain which embodies itself everywhere in the spirit of plunder, exploitation, and the impulse to gambling. He can have nothing butcondemnation for that great wave of money-love which has swept overChristendom in our time, affecting all classes. It has fosteredself-indulgence, stimulated depraved appetites, corrupted business andpolitics, oppressed the poor, materialised our ideals, and weakenedreligious influences. 'From this craze of the love of money the voiceof Jesus calls the people back to the sane life in Ethics and religionin which He is leader. '[26] What then ought to be the attitude of theChurch to the industrial questions of our day? While some contend thatthe social question is really a religious question, and that the Churchis untrue to its mission when it holds itself aloof from the economicalproblems which are agitating men's minds, others view with suspicion, if not with hostility, the deflection of religion from its traditionalpath of worship, and deem it a mistake for the Church to interfere inindustrial movements. 

A recent writer[27] narrates that in his boyhood he actually heard anold minister of the Church of Scotland declare in the General Assembly, 'We are not here to make the world better: we have only to pass throughit on the way to glory. ' 'No grosser travesty, ' adds the author, 'wasever uttered. We _are_ here to make the world better. We have acommission to stamp out evil and to prevent men from falling into it. If this is not Christian work, what is?'

At the same time a portion of the clergy have gone to the oppositeextreme, identifying the kingdom of God with social propaganda, andthus losing sight of its spiritual {241} and eternal, as well as itspersonal, significance. There has been moreover a tendency on the partof some to associate themselves with a political party, and to claimfor the Church the office of judge and arbitrator in industrial strife. But surely it is one thing to degrade the Church to the level of asecular society, and another, by witness and by effort, to make the lawof Christ dominant over all the relationships of life. Men areimpatiently asking, 'Has the Church no message to the new demands ofthe age? Are Christians to stand apart from the coming battle, andpreach only the great salvation to individual souls? _That_ theChristian minister must never cease to do; but the Gospel, if it is tomeet the needs of men, must be read in the light of history andexperience, and interpreted by the signs of the times. 

(2) The ground idea of Jesus' teaching was, as Troeltsch has pointedout, [28] the declaration of the kingdom of God. Everything indeed isrelative to union with God, but in God man's earthly life is involved. Two notes were therefore struck by Jesus, a note of individualism and anote of universalism--love to God and love to man. These notes do notreally conflict, but they became the two opposite voices of the Church, and gave rise to different ethical tendencies. The first religiouscommunities consisted of the poor and the enslaved. It never occurredto them that they had civic rights: all they desired was freedom toworship Christ. Not how to transform the social world, but how tomaintain their own religious faith without molestation in the world ofunbelief and evil was their problem. 

(3) In the early Catholic Church the spirit of individualism ruled. With the Reformation a new type of life was developed, and a newattitude to the social world was established. But while Lutheranismsought to exercise its influence upon social life through stateregulation, Calvinism was more individualistic, and sought rather to{242} enforce its teaching by means of the personal life. The attitudeof the various sects--Baptists, Pietists, Puritans--has been largelyindividualistic, and instead of endeavouring to rectify the abuses ofindustrial life they have been disposed rather to suffer the ills ofthis evil world, finding in faith alone their compensation and solace. 

In modern times the tendency of the Church, Romanist and Protestantalike, has been toward social regeneration; and a form of ChristianSocialism has even appeared which however lacks unity of principle anduniformity of action. The mediaeval idea of a Holy Roman Empire, inwhich all nations and classes were to be consolidated, is now admittedto be a dream incapable of realisation, partly because the idea itselfis illusory, but principally because the hold of the Papacy upon thepeople has been weakened. The agitation, 'Los von Rom' on the onehand, and the 'Modernist' movement on the other, have tended todissipate the unity and energy of Catholicism. Nevertheless theChurch, which is really the society of Christian people, is coming tosee that it cannot close its eyes to questions which concern the dailylife of man, nor hold aloof from efforts which are working for thesocial betterment of the world. To bring in the kingdom of God is theChurch's work, and it is becoming increasingly evident that thekingdom, if it is to come in any real and living sense, must come whereJesus Himself founded it--upon the plane of this present life. 

There are two considerations which make this work on the part of theChurch at once imperative and hopeful. The first is that the Church isspecially called upon by the command and example of its Founder torange itself on the side of the weak and helpless. It is commanded tobring the principles of brotherly love to bear upon the conditions oflife which press most heavily upon the handicapped. It is called on inthe spirit of its Master to rebuke the greed of gain and the callousselfishness which uses the toil, and even the degradation of others, for its own personal enjoyment. The Church only fulfils its functionwhen {243} it is not only the consoler of the suffering but also thechampion of the oppressed. And the other consideration is that invirtue of its nature and charter the Church is enabled to appeal tomotives which the State cannot supply. It brings all social obligationunder the comprehensive law of love. It exalts the principle ofbrotherhood. It lifts up the sacrifice of Christ, and seeks to make itpotent over the hearts of men. It preaches the doctrine of humanity, and strives to win a response in all who are willing to acknowledgetheir common kinship and equality before God. It appeals to mastersand servants, to employers and labourers, to rich and poor, and bidsthem remember that they are sharers alike of the Divine Mercy, pensioners together upon their Heavenly Father's love. 

4. Whatever shape the obligation of the Church may take in regard tothe social problems of the homeland, the duty of Christianity to thelarger world of Humanity admits of no question. The ethicalsignificance of the missionary movement of last century has beenpronounced by Wundt, [29] the distinguished historian of morals, as themightiest factor in modern civilisation. Speaking of humanity in itshighest sense as having been brought into the world by Christianity, hementions as its first manifestation the care of the sick, and thenadds, 'the second great expression of Christian humanity is theestablishment of missions. ' It is unnecessary to dwell upon thismodern form of unselfish enthusiasm. It has its roots in the simplenecessity, on the part of the morally awakened, of sharing their bestwith other people. 'Man grows with the greatness of his purposes, ' andno greater ideal task has ever presented itself to the imagination ofman than this mighty attempt to conquer the world for Christ, and giveto his brother men throughout the earth that which has raised andenriched himself. [30]

'The two great forming agencies in the world's history, ' says aprominent political economist, 'have been the {244} religious and theeconomic. '[31] On the one hand the economic is required as the basisof civilisation, but on the other the supreme factor is religion. Thecommercial impulse, carried on independently of any higher motive thanself-interest, has however not infrequently reacted favourably on themoral life of the race. Mutual understanding, the sense of a commonhumanity, the virtues of honesty, fairness, and confidence upon whichall legitimate commerce is founded, have paved the way in no smalldegree for the message of brotherhood and mercy. The present hour isthe Church's opportunity. Already the world has been opened up, thenations of the earth are awakening to the greatness of life'spossibilities. The danger is that the Oriental peoples should becomesatisfied with the mere externals of civilisation, and miss that whichwill assure their complete emancipation. Christianity was born in theEast, though it has become the inheritance of the West. It is adaptedby its genius to all men. And undoubtedly the West has no better boonto confer on the East than that on which its own life and hope arefounded--the religion of Jesus Christ. If we do not give that, we areunfaithful to our Master's call; we falsify our own history, and whollymiss the purpose for which we have been entrusted with divineenlightenment and power. 

[1] Lofthouse, _Ethics of the Family_, p. 77. 

[2] _Hist. Of Human Marriage_, p. 538. 

[3] The literature on this subject is enormous. See specially works ofWestermarck, M'Lennan, Frazer, Hobhouse, Andrew Lang, and Ihering. 

[4] See chap. Vii. In Garvie's _Studies in Inner Life of Jesus_. 

[5] Matt. Viii. 21, 22; Luke ix. 59-62. 

[6] Luke xiv. 26; Matt. X. 37. 

[7] Mark x. 29, 30. 

[8] Matt. Xix. 12. 

[9] Matt. V. 32, xix. 3-10; Mark x. 11, 12. 

[10] See Forsyth, _Marriage: its Ethics and Religion_. 

[11] King, _Ethics of Jesus_, p. 69. 

[12] Stalker, _Ethics of Jesus_, p. 336. 

[13] Though Nietzsche does not use the word he may be regarded as thefather of modern eugenics. 

[14] Cf. Ramsay Macdonald, _Socialism_. 

[15] Mark vii. 9-13. 

[16] Cf. King, _The Moral and Religious Challenge of our Times_, pp. 42f. 

[17] Cf. W. Wallace, _Lects. And Addresses_, p. 114. 

[18] _Aus Leben und Wissenschaft_. 

[19] Matt. Xii. 18-22; John xviii. 23, xix. 10 f. 

[20] Rom. Xiii. 

[21] Sir H. Jones, _Idealism as a Practical Creed_, p. 123. 

[22] Some sentences are here borrowed from author's _Ethics of St. Paul_. 

[23] _E. G. _ Eucken, Kindermann, Mallock, and earlier H. Spencer. 

[24] _Life's Ideal and Life's Basis_. 

[25] Eph. Iv. 3. 

[26] Clarke, _Ideal of Jesus_, p. 258. 

[27] Watson, _Social Advance_. 

[28] _Die Soziallehren der Christlichen Kirchen und Gruppen_, a recentwork on social ethics of great erudition and importance. 

[29] _Ethik_, vol. Ii. 

[30] King, _The Moral and Religious Challenge of our Times_, pp. 44 and346. 

[31] Marshall, _Principles of Economics_. 

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CHAPTER XIV

CONCLUSION--THE PERMANENCE OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS

In bringing to a close our study of Christian Ethics, we repeat thatthe three dominant notes of the Christian Ideal are--Absoluteness, Inwardness, and Universality. The Gospel claims to be supreme in lifeand morals. The uniqueness and originality of the Ethics ofChristianity are to be sought, however, not so much in the range of itspractical application as in the unfolding of an ideal which is at oncethe power and pattern of the new life. That ideal is Christ in whomthe perfect life is disclosed, and through whom the power for itsrealisation is communicated. Life is a force, and character a growtharising in and expanding from a hidden seed. Hence in Christian Ethicsapathy and passivity, and even asceticism and quietism, which occupy animportant place in the moral systems of Buddha and Neo-Platonism, inmediaeval Catholicism and the teaching of Tolstoy, play only asubsidiary part, and are but preparatory stages towards the realisationof a fuller life. On the contrary all is life, energy, and unceasingendeavour. 'I am come that ye may have life, and that ye may have itmore abundantly. '

There is no finality in Christian Ethics. It is not a mechanical andcompleted code. The Ethic of the New Testament, just because it hasits spring in the living Christ, is an inexhaustible fountain of life. 'True Christianity, ' says Edward Caird, 'is not something which waspublished in Palestine, and which has been handed down by a deadtradition ever since; it is a living and growing {246} spirit, andlearns the lessons of history, and is ever manifesting new powers andleading on to new truths. '

The teaching of Jesus is not merely temporary or local. It is an utterperversion of the Gospels to make the eschatology present in them themaster-key to their meaning, or to derive the ethical ideal from theutterances which anticipate an abrupt and immediate end. Jesus spokeindeed the language of His time and race, and often clothed Hisspiritual purpose in the form of national expectation. But to base Hismoral maxims on an 'Interim-Ethic' adapted to a transitory world is to'distort the perspective of His teaching, and to rob it of its unityand insight. ' On the contrary, the Ethics of Jesus are everywherecharacterised by adaptability, universality, and permanence, and in Hisattitude to the great problems of life there is a serenity and sympathywhich has nothing in common with the nervous and excited expectation ofsudden catastrophe. 

In like manner it is a misinterpretation of the teaching of Jesus torepresent asceticism as the last word of Christian Ethics. Renunciation and unworldliness are undoubtedly frequently commended inthe New Testament, but they are urged not as ends in themselves but asmeans to a fuller self-realisation. Such was not the habitual temperand tone of Jesus in His relations to the world, nor was the ultimatepurpose of His mission to create a type of manhood whose perfection layin withdrawal from the interests and obligations of life. 'To singleout a teaching of non-resistance as the core of the Gospels, to retreatfrom social obligations in the name of one who gladly shared them andwas called a friend of wine-bibbers and publicans--all this, howeverheroic it may be, is not only an impracticable discipleship but ahistorical perversion. It mistakes the occasionalism of the Gospelsfor universalism. '[1]

Finally, there are many details of modern social well-being with whichthe New Testament does not deal, questions of present-day ethics andeconomics which cannot be decided by a direct reference to chapter and{247} verse, either of the Gospels or Epistles. The problems of lifeshift with the shifting years, but the nature of life remainsunchanged, and responds to the life and the spirit of Him who was, andremains down the ages, the Light of men. The individual virtues ofhumility, purity of heart, and self-sacrifice are not evanescent, butare now and always the pillars of Christian Ethics; while the greatprinciples of human solidarity, of brotherhood and equality in Christ, of freedom, of love, and service; the New Testament teachingsconcerning the family, the State, and the kingdom of God; our Lord'sprecepts with regard to the sacredness of the body and the soul, theduty of work, the stewardship of wealth, and the accountability to Godfor life with its variety of gifts and tasks--contain the germ andpotency of all personal and social transformation and renewal. 

[1] Prof. Peabody, _Harvard Theological Review_, May 1913. 

{248}

BIBLIOGRAPHY

A. --GENERAL WORKS ON ETHICS

I. ENGLISH WORKS

1. _Early Idealism and Intuitionalism_. 

Hobbes, 1650; Mandeville, 1714; Cudworth, 1688; Cumberland, 1672; Sam. Clarke, 1704; Shaftesbury, 1713; Butler, 1729; Hutchison, 1756; AdamSmith, 1759; R. Price, 1757; Thom. Reid, 1793; Dugald Stewart, 1793; W. Whewell, 1848; H. Calderwood, _Handbook of Mor. Phil. _, 1872;Martineau, _Types of Ethical Theory_, 1886; Laurie, _Ethics_, 1885; N. Porter, _Elements of Moral Science_, 1885. 

2. _Utilitarianism_. 

Locke, _Concerning Human Understanding_, 1690; Hartley, _Observationson Man_, 1748; Hume, _Enquiry Concerning Principles of Morals_, 1751;_Essays_, 1742; Paley, _Principles of Mor. And Political Phil. _, 1785;Bentham, _Introd. To Principles of Morals and Legislation_, 1789; Jas. Mill, _Analysis of the Human Mind_, 1829; J. S. Mill, _Utilitarianism_, 1863; A. Bain, _Mental and Moral Science_, 1868; _Mind and Body_, 1876;H. Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_ (6th ed. ), 1901; Shadworth Hodgson, _Theory of Practice_, 1870; T. Fowler, _Progressive Morality_, 1884;Grote, _Examination of Utilitarian Ethics_, 1870. 

3. _Evolutionary Ethics_. 

Chas. Darwin, _Descent of Man_, 1871; Herbert Spencer, _Principles ofEthics_ and _Data of Ethics_, 1879; W. K. Clifford, _Lectures andEssays_, 1879; Leslie Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, 1882; S. Alexander, _Moral Order and Progress_, 1889; Shurman, _Ethical Import ofDarwinism_; Huxley, _Evolution and Ethics_; Hobhouse, _Morals inEvolution_ (2 vols. ), 1906; Westermarck, _Origin and Development of theMoral Ideas_, 1909. 

4. _Modern Idealism_. 

T. H. Green, _Proleg. To Ethics_, 1883; F. H. Bradley, _EthicalStudies_, 1876; _Appearance and Reality_, 1893; E. Caird, _Crit. Phil. Of Kant_, 1890; _Evolution of Religion_, 1903; W. R. Sorley, _Ethics ofNaturalism_, 1885; _Recent Tendencies in Ethics_, 1904; _The MoralLife_, 1912; W. L. Courtney, _Constructive Ethics_, 1886; J. S. Mackenzie, _Introd. To Social Philos. _, 1890; _Manual of Ethics_ (4thed. ), 1900; W. Wallace, _Lectures and Essays_, 1898; Muirhead, _Elements of Ethics_, 1892; Rashdall, _Theory of Good and Evil_; BoyceGibson, _A Philos. Introd. To Ethics_, 1904; Ward, _Kingdom of Ends_(Gifford Lect. ), 1910; Bosanquet, _Principles of Individuality andValue_, 1912; _Value and Destiny of the Individual_ (Gifford Lects. ), 1913; _Psychology of the Moral Self_; D'Arcy, _Short Study of Ethics_;W. Arthur, _Physical and Moral Law_; Jas. Seth, _Study of EthicalPrinciples_ (11th ed. ), 1910; Ryland, _Manual of Ethics_; G. E. Moore, _Principia Ethica_, 1903; _Ethics_ (Home Univ. Lib. ), 1912; MacCunn, _Making of Character_, 1905; _Ethics of Citizenship_, 1907; _SixRadical Thinkers_, 1907; Bowne, _Principles of Ethics; Immanence ofGod_, 1906; Dewey, _Outlines of a Crit. Theory of Ethics_, 1891;Harris, _Moral Evolution_; Hyslop, _Elements of Ethics_, 1895; Mezes, _Ethics, Descriptive and Explanatory_, 1901; Royce, _Religious Aspectsof Philosophy; Philosophy of Loyalty_, 1908; Taylor, _Problem ofConduct_; Rand, _The Classical Moralists_ (Selections), 1910. 

II. FOREIGN WORKS

Kant's works, specially _Metaphysics of Ethics_, trans. By T. K. Abbott, under title, _Kant's Theory of Ethics_ (3rd ed. ), 1883; Fichte, _Science of Ethics_ (trans. ), 1907; _Science of Rights_ (trans. );_Popular Works_ (2 vols. ); _Vocation of Man_, etc. ; Hegel, _Philosophyof Right_, trans. By S. W. Dyde, 1896; Lotze, _Practical Philosophy, _1890; Paulsen, _System of Ethics_, trans. By Tufts; Wundt, _Ethics, AnInvestigation of the Facts and Laws of the Moral Life_ (3 vols. ), trans. From 2nd German ed. , 1892; Dubois, _The Culture of Justice_;Guyot, _La Morale_; Janet, _Theory of Morals_ (trans. ); Nietzsche's_Works_, translated by Oscar Levy (18 vols. ); Eucken, _The Problem ofHuman Life_, 1912; _Life's Basis and Life's Ideal_, 1912; _Meaning andValue of Life_, 1912; _Main Current of Modern Thought_, 1912; _The Lifeof the Spirit_, 1909; Hensel, _Hauptproblem der Ethik_, 1903; Lipps, _Die Ethischen Grundfragen_, 1899; Natorp, _Social-paedagogik_;Schuppe, _Grundzüge der Ethik_; Wentscher, _Ethik_; Schwarz, _DasSittliche Leben_; L. Levy-Bruhl, _Ethics and Moral Science_, trans. ByEliz. Lee, 1905; Windelband, _Präludien. über Willensfreiheit_; Bauch, _Glückseligkeit und Persönlichkeit in der krit. Ethik_; {250}_Sittlichkeit und Kuttur_; Cohen, _Ethik des Reinen Willens_, 1904;Dilthey, _Einleitung in die Geisteswissenschaften_; Ihering, _Der Zweckim Recht_ (2 Bde. ), 1886; Cathrein, _Moral. Philosophie_ (2 Bde. ), 1904; Tonnies, _Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft_, 1887. 

B. --CHRISTIAN ETHICS

I. GENERAL

Harless, _Christl. Ethik_, 1842 (trans. ), 1868; Schleiermacher, _DieChristl. Sitte_, 1843; Marheineke, _System d. Christl. Moral_, 1847;Bothe, _Theol. Ethik_, 1845; De Wette, _Lehrbuch d. Christl. Sittenlehre_, 1853; Ch. F. Schmid, _Christl. Sittenlehre_, 1861; A. Wuttke, _Handbuch d. Christl. Sittenlehre_, 1861 (trans. , 2 vols. , J. P. Lacroix, 1873); F. P. Cobbe, _Religious Duty_, 1864; _StudiesEthical and Social_, 1865; Seeley, _Ecce Homo_, 1886; Maurice, _SocialMorality_, 1872; _Conscience_, 1872; Wade, _Christianity and Morality_, 1876; Hofmann, _Theol. Ethik_, 1878; Lange, _Grundriss d. Christl. Ethik_, 1878; Martensen, _Christl. Ethik_ (trans. , 3 vols. ), 1878;Gregory Smith, _Characteristics of Christian Morality_, 1876; O. Pfleiderer, _Grundriss d. Glaubens und Sittenlehre_, 1880; Luthardt, _Vorträge über die Moral d. Christenthums_, 1882; S. Leathes, _Foundations of Morality_, 1882; Frank, _System d. Christl. Sittenlehre_, 1885; Westcott, _Social Aspects of Christianity_, 1887;W. T. Davidson, _The Christian Conscience_, 1888; Balfour, _TheReligion of Humanity_, 1888; Maccoll, _Christianity in Relation toScience and Morals_, 1889; Stanton, _Province of Christian Ethics_, 1890; Hughes, _Principles of Natural and Supernatural Morals_, 1890; W. G. Lilly, _Right and Wrong_, 1890; Bright, _Morality in Doctrine_, 1892; Schultz, _Grundriss d. Evangelischen Ethik_, 1891; Newman Smyth, _Christian Ethics_, 1892; Dowden, _Relation of Christian Ethics toPhilos. Ethics_, 1892; Jas. Drummond, _Via, Veritas, Vita_ (Hib. Lect. ), 1894; Jacoby, _Neukstamentliche Ethik_, 1889; Salwitz, _DasProblem d. Ethik_, 1891; Knight, _The Christian Ethic_, 1893; Jas. Kidd, _Morality and Religion_, 1895; Strong, _Christian Ethics_, 1897;Troeltsch, _Die Christl. Ethik und die heutige Gesellschaft_, 1904;_Die Sociallehren d. Christl. Kirchen u. Gruppen_ (2 vols. ), 1912;_Protestantism and Progress_, 1912; Lemme, _Christl. Ethik. _ (2 vols. ), 1908; Kirn, _Grundriss d. Theol. Ethik_, 1909; _SitllicheLebenanschauungen d. Geigenwart_, 1911; Nash, _Ethics and Revelation_;Dobschütz, _The Christian Life in the Primitive Church_; Clark, _TheChurch and the Changing Order_; Ottley, _Christian Ideas and Ideals_, 1909; Clark Murray, _Handbook of Christian Ethics_, 1908; Henry W. Clark, _The Christian Method of Ethics_, 1908; Rauschenbusch, _Christianity and the Social Crisis_, 1908; Geo. Matheson, _Landmarksof New Testament Morality_, 1888; J. Smith, _Christian Character andSocial Power_; Gladden, _Applied Christianity_; J. R. Campbell, _Christianity and the Social Order_; Coe, _Education in Religion andMorals_; Peile, _The Reproach of the Gospel_; Gottschick, _Ethik_, 1907; W. Schmidt, _Der Kampf um die Sittliche Welt_, 1906; Herrmann, _Ethik_, 1909; _Faith and Morals, Communion of the Christian with God_;A. E. Balch, _Introduction to the Study of Christian Ethics_;Kirkpatrick, _Christian Character and Conduct_; Church, _Outlines ofChristian Character_; Paget, _Christian Character_; Illingworth, _Christian Character; Personality, Human and Divine_; R. Mackintosh, _Christian Ethics_, 1909; Haering, _The Ethics of the Christian Life_(trans. ), 1909; Barbour, _A Philos. Study of Christian Ethics_, 1911;Stubbs, _Christ and Economics_; W. S. Bruce, _Social Aspects ofChristian Morality_, 1905; _Formation of Christian Character_; Harper, _Christian Ethics and Social Progress_, 1912; T. C. Hall, _SocialSolutions in the Light of Christian Ethics_, 1911. 

II. SPECIAL SUBJECTS

1. _Ethics of Jesus_. 

Briggs, _Ethical Teaching of Jesus_; P. Brooks, _Influence of Jesus_;Dale, _Laws of Christ for Common Life_; Feddersen, _Jesus und dieSocialen Dinge_; Gardner, _Exploratio Evangelica_; Ehrhardt, _DerGrundcharacter d. Ethik Jesu_, 1895; Grimm, _Die Ethik Jesu_, 1903;Peabody, _Jesus Christ and the Christian Character_, 1905; _JesusChrist and the Social Question_, 1902; _The Approach to the SocialQuestion_, 1909; King, _The Ethics of Jesus_, 1910; _Moral and SocialChallenge of our Times_, 1912; Rau, _Die Ethik Jesu_; Stalker, _ImagoChristi_, 1888; _The Ethic of Jesus_, 1909; Mathews, _The SocialTeaching of Jesus_; Horton, _The Commandments of Jesus_; W. N. Clarke, _The Ideal of Jesus_, 1911. 

2. _Teaching of Jesus and Apostles_. 

_Works_ of A. B. Bruce; Gilbert, _Revelation of Jesus_; Harnack, _Whatis Christianity?_ (Das Wesen); _Sayings of Jesus_; Jülicher, _Gleichnissreden Jesu_; Denney, _Jesus and the Gospel_, 1909; Latham, _Pastor Pastorum_; Moorhouse, Pullan, Ross, Von Schrenck, Stevens, Swete; Tolstoy, _My Religion_; Wendt, _Lehre Jesu_ (2 ed. ), 1901;Weizsäcker, _The Apostolic Age_; Hausrath, _History of N. T. Times_;Fairbairn, _Christ in Modern Thought_; D. La Touche, _The Person ofChrist in Modern Thought_, 1911; Pfanmüller, _Jesus im Urtheil d. Jahrhunderte_; Bacon, _Jesus, the Son of God_; Dalman, _Words ofJesus_; Baur, _Paulinismus_; Bosworth, _Teaching of Jesus andApostles_; Pfleiderer, _Paulinismus; Primitive Christianity_;Johan-Weiss, _Paul and Jesus_; Gardner, _Relig. Experience of St. Paul_; Alexander, _Ethics of St. Paul_. 

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C. --HISTORY OF ETHICS

See Histories of Philosophy: Ueberweg, Erdmann, Windelband, Schwegler, Maurice, Rogers; Alexander, _A Short History of Philosophy_ (2nd ed. ), 1908; Lecky, _Hist. Of Europ. Morals_; Luthardt, _History of Ethics_;Rogers, _A Short History of Ethics_, 1912; Thoma, _Geschichte d. Christl. Sittenlehre in der Zeit d. N. T. _, 1879; Wundt (_Vol. II. OfEthics_); Wuttke (_Vol. I. Of Ethics_); Sidgwick, _History of Ethics_;Ziegler, _Gesch. D. Ethik_; Jodl, _Gesch. D. Ethik in d. NeuerenPhilosophie_; T. C. Hall, _History of Ethics within OrganizedChristianity_, 1910. See also Relevant Articles in Bible Dictionaries, especially Hastings' _Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics_. 

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INDEX

 Activism, 117, 122, 179. Adiaphora, 201. Aestheticism, 15 f. , 108. Alquin, 2. Apocalyptic teaching of Christ, 133. Aquinas, Thomas, 2, 196. Aristotle, 10, 17 f. , 40 f. , 66, 70, 87, 107, 187. Arnold, Matthew, 1, 107. Asceticism, 129, 150, 192, 245. Assimilation to Christ, 179. Atonement, 166. Augustine, 30, 57 f. , 66, 140, 231. Aurelius, Marcus, 43, 70. Avenarius, 86. 

 Balch, 132, 133. Barbour, 41, 135, 157, 159, 161. Baur, 39. Beatitudes, 129, 136, 188. Beneficence, 213. Bentham, 103, 204. Bergson, 64, 91 f. , 117 f. Bernard, 218. Blewett, Christian view of God, 170. Bosanquet, 16, 27, 64, 92, 113, 114. Bousset, 134, 135. Brotherhood, 145, 210, 243, 247. Browning, 3, 16, 60, 63, 77, 119, 131, 132, 138, 206, 218. Bunsen, 69. Burckhardt, 227. Burke, 204. Burkitt, 32. Burnet, 41. Burns, Robert, 204. Butcher, 41. Butler, Bishop, 166. 

 Caird, E. , 44, 60, 64, 245. ---- J. , 63. Cairns, 135. Calixtas, G. , 2. Calvinism, 2, 57, 241. Cambridge Platonists, 39. Campbell, 69. Chamberlain, Houston, 48. Character, 6, 10, 14, 15, 24, 186; making of, 208. Childhood, children, 226 f. Christ, 1, 4, 5, 11 f. , 124; as example, 146 f. ; character of, 148 f. , 150. Christianity, 123 f. Church, 4, 209, 236 ff. Citizenship, 39, 151, 233 f. Clarke, 240. Clement, 2, 39. Coleridge, 3. Collectivism, 106. Compassion, 212. Conduct, 1, 6, 13, 15, 183 f. Conscience, 68 f. Conversion, 171. Courage, 38, 186, 187, 190. Cousin, 16. _Creative Evolution_, 117. Croce, Benedetto, 117. Culture, 16, 99, 108, 130, 148, 156, 207, 208. 

 Daemon of Socrates, 69. Danaeus, 2. Dante, 125, 138. Darwin, 74. David, Psalms, 48 f. , 70. Davidson, 69, 81. Death of Christ, 166. Decalogue, 2, 45, 72. Deissmann, 162. Democracy, 235. Denney on Forgiveness, 163. Descartes, 204. Determinism, 88 f. Dewey, Professor, 64. Disinterestedness of motive, 156 f. Divorce, 224. Dobschütz, 134. Dogmatics, 3, 24 f. Dorner, 25 f. Drew, 31. Duty, Duties, 8, 21, 52, 196 ff. Dynamic of new life, 164 f. 

 'Ecce Homo, ' 152, 205. Ecclesiasticism, 3, 49. Economics, 17, 239. Ehrhardt, 151. Emerson on Example, 151. Empire, Roman, 43; 'Holy, ' 242. Engels, 105. Epictetus, 43, 70. Epicureans, 42. Erinnyes of Aeschylus, 69. Eschatology, 133 f. Eternal life, 131. Ethics, Christian, 1 f. , 5, 6, 10 ff; Philos. , 22, 35 f. , 168; permanence of, 245. ---- of Israel, 44 ff. Eucken, 86, 93, 108, 115, 117, 121 f. , 179, 203, 207, 235. Eugenics, 110, 255. Euripides, 69. Evil, 57 f. , 62, 118. Evolutionalism, 74 f. , 103 f. Example, human, 151, 214 f. ; of Jesus, 140, 222 f. Externalism, 142 f. 

 Fairbairn, A. M. , 147. Faith, 65, 67, 174 f. , 196, 216; Pauline doct. , 177. Faithfulness, 200, 203, 216, 224, 231. Faith healing, 90. Family, 220 f. ; relationships, 222, 226. Fatherhood of God, 141, 145, 153, 216. Feuerbach, 101. Fichte, 65, 112, 204. Forgiveness, divine, 153; human, 214. Forsyth, 224. 'Foundations, ' 173. Frazer, 29, 221. 

 Garvie, 222. God, idea of, 26; sovereignty of, 27; fatherhood of, 27; love of, 28; recognition of, 215; obedience to, 216; worship of, 217. Godlikeness, 141, 218. Goethe, 58, 81, 107, 130, 212. Grace, means of, 209. Graces, 188. Grant, Sir A. , on 'Mean, ' 185. Greece, Ancient, 11, 35. Greeks, 16, 28, 69. Green, T. H. , 18, 75, 77, 88, 187, 218. 

 Haeckel, 86, 101. Haering, 21, 25, 156, 201. Harnack, 176, 205, 228. Hebrew, 35, 44. Hedonism, 104. Hegel, 9, 19, 55, 65, 112 f. , 124, 204, 213, 231. Heraclitus, 37. Hermann, E. , 125. Herrmann, 202. Hobbes, 57, 102. Hobhouse, 221. Holiness, 141; of Jesus, 149. Hope, 47, 197 f. Hügel, von, 126. Hume, 18. Hypnotism, 90. Hyslop, 14. 

 Ideals, 6, 12; idealism, 107, 127 f. Ihering, 221. Immanence of God, 43, 93. Immortality, 155. Incarnation, 165 f. Indeterminism, 88. Individualism, 107, 204, 205. Inge, 16. Intellect and Intuition, 65, 118. Intellectualism, 64, 65, 114, 118. Intensity of life, 129 f. _Interimsethik_, 134 f. , 246. Intuitionalism, 72. Irenaeus, 166. Israel, 35, 44, 70. 

 Jacoby, 25, 142, 157. James, St. , 29. ---- W. , 56, 65, 66, 89 f. , 114 f. , 172. Jones, Sir H. , 132, 219, 231. Judaeism, Ethics of, 45. Judgment, final, 140; just judgment, 212. Justice, 32, 38, 172, 187 f. , 210, 233. Justification by faith, 177. 

 Kant, 13, 65 f. , 74, 111 f. , 152, 158, 162, 185, 204. Keim, 151. King, 134, 224, 227, 243. Kingdom of God, 132 f. Kirkup, 105. Knight, 36. 

 Lassalle, 232. Law, Mosaic, 45 f. , 70. Lecky, 43, 66, 211, 217. Lemme, 25, 79 f. Leonardo, 92. Lidgett, 27. Life, 12, 118; as ideal, 128; as vocation, 200; regard for, 207; as Godlikeness, 141; sacredness of, 142; Christ as standard of, 147; brevity of, 154; 'eternal, ' 131. Lodge, Sir O. , 172. Lofthouse, 221. Logic, 15, 118. Lotze, 88. Love, supremacy of, 28, 196 f; divine, 144, 153. Lütgert, 108. 

 Maccabean age, 48. MacCunn, 203. Macdonald, Ramsay, 220. Mach, 85 f. Machiavelli, 70. Mackenzie, 13, 14, 19. Mackintosh, 26, 199. Macmillan, 112. Mallock, 232. Man, estimate of, 55 ff. ; primitive, 57. Mark, St. , 32. Marriage, 223, 225. Marshall, 224. Martensen, 25. Marx, 105. Massachusetts, 'Declaration of Rights, ' 205. Matheson, Geo. , 194. Mazzini on Rights, 203. 'Mean' of Aristotle, 40, 185. Metaphysics, 3, 10, 17 f. , 25, 37. Meyers, St. Paul, 168, 217. Micah, 47. Mill, J. S. , 32, 103. Millar, Hugh, 56. Milton, 58. Mission of Jesus, 149. Missionary movement, 243. Moffatt, 134. Morality, 10, 37 f. Morals, 24. See Ethics. Morris, 92. Motives, 6, 10; Christian, 152 f. Muirhead, 14. Murray, 55, 58. Müller, Max, 58. 

 Nativism, 72. Naturalism, 100 ff. Nemesis, 69. Neo-Platonism, 39 f. , 40, 44, 245. 'New Ethic, ' 108. Nietzsche, 58, 109, 225, 232. Nine Foundation Pillars of Schmiedel, 31. Norm, Normative, 12, 146. Novalis, 16, 25. 

 Obedience, 178. Old Dispensation, 45. Origin, 39. Orr, J. , 142. Oswald, 86. Ottley, 59, 61, 209, 213. 'Ought, ' 12, 21, 80. 

 Paine, 204. Parables of the kingdom, 137. Parents, 226. Parker, Theodore, 56. Pascal, 57, 59. Passions, 41, 58, 191. Paul, St. , 22, 26, 30 f. , 43, 47, 57 f. , 66, 70, 77, 94 f. , 162, 173, 177. Paulsen, 10, 151, 199. Peabody, 148, 150, 246. Pelagius, 56. Penalty, 162. _Pensées_, 59. Perfection, spiritual, 27, 141. Permissible, 202. Personality, 6, 55 f. , 61, 112, 113, 122, 209, 213. Pfleiderer, 44. Pharisaism, 143. Philosophy, 4, 5, 9, 35 f. Plato, 18 f. , 37 ff. , 66, 107, 184, 187. Pluralism, 116. Poetry of Old Testament, 45 f. , 48. Politics, 15 f. Postulates, 6, 18, 22, 25, 29. Power, divine, 164 f. Pragmatism, 63, 114 f. Prayer, 217. Pringle-Pattison, 103. Property, 213. 

 Rashdall, 27. Realisation of self, 128. Reformation, 2, 11, 47. Regeneration, 171. Regret, 171. Renewal, 171. Renunciation of Gospel, 156. Repentance, 171. Response, human, 169. Responsibility of man, 29. See Will. Resurrection of Christ, 167. Revolution, French, 56, 235. Rewards, 157 f. Richter, Jean Paul, 155. Righteousness, 46 f. , 52, 142, 192. Risen life, 167. Ritschlian school, 63, 90. Romanticism, 107. Rome, 35; Romanist, 243. Rousseau, 56 f. , 100. Ruskin, 16. 

 Sabatier, 66. Sacrifice of Christ, 166; self, 131, 191, 194, 209. Sanday, Professor, 139, 157. Schelling, 65. Schiller, 16, 107. Schleiermacher, 3, 25, 39, 201. Schmidt, 86. Schmiedel, 31. Schopenhauer, 109. Schultz on copying Christ, 152. Schweitzer, 134. Science, 13 f. , 83. Scott, E. , 134, 140. Seeley, 16. Self-regard, 207. Self-restraint of Jesus, 150. Self-sufficiency, 130. Seneca, 43, 70. Sermon on (the) Mount, 32. Seth, Jas. , 103. Sin, 28 f. , 140. Sinlessness of Jesus, 149. Smith, Adam, 103. Smyth, Newman, 17, 26, 132. Socialism, 105; social problems, 225 f. , 239. Society. Social institutions, 220 ff. Socrates, 9, 36 f. , 39, 69, 186. Sonship, 153. Sophists, 11, 36, 37. Sophocles, 69. Soul, 61, 119. Sovereignty of God, 27, 93, 144. Specialisation, 207. Spencer, 74 f. , 103, 232. Spinoza, 18. Sport, 207. Stalker, 176, 224. Standard of New Life, 146 f. State, 229 ff. Stephen, Leslie, 17. Stoics, 42, 56, 70, 185, 194. Strauss, 151. Strong, 193. Sudermann, 110. Suffering, 202, 208. _Summum bonum_, 11. See Ideal. Symonds, 69. Sympathy of Jesus, 149. Synoptic Gospels, 33. 

 Tasso, 81. Temperance, 38, 187, 191. Temptation, 208. Tennyson, 3, 39; wages, 161. Testament, New, 28, 30 f. , 35, 57, 71. ---- Old, 26, 45. Thanksgiving, 218. _Theologia Moralis_, 2. Titius, 134. Touche, E. D. La, 145. Troeltsch, 135, 151, 241. Truthfulness, 211. 

 Utilitarianism, 103 f. , 114. 

 Virtue. Virtues, 69, 21, 38 ff. , 183 ff. Vitalism, 117, 120. Vocation, 154, 199 f. 

 Wages, 161. Watson, 240. Wealth, 239. Weiss, Johannus, 134, 170. _Welt-Anschauung_, 19, 31. Wenley, 44. Wernle, 58, 134. Westcott, Bishop, 39. Westermarck, 221. Will, 12 ff. , 82 f. Wisdom, 38, 43, 49, 187, 192. Wordsworth, 3, 39. Work, 208, 239. Worship, 217, 237. Wundt, 73, 78 f. , 186, 213, 243. Wuttke, 13, 25, 217.