Israel's faith; a series of lessons for the Jewish youth

Front matter

BM

A Series of Lessons

FOR. THE

Part I Chapter Page

I. The Existence of a God ....... i

II. The Unity of God lo

III. What we Know about God 22

IV. More about God 30

V. Man and his Position 35

VI. Reward and Punishment 43

PART 11.

I. How Religion was Revealed 47

II. The Ten Commandments 53

III. The Law of Moses 64

IV. Sacrifice and Prayer . 68

V. Sabbaths and Festivals 78

VI. The New Year's Day and Day of Atonement 88

VII. Social Duties 94

VIII. Moral Duties 113

IX. Sanitary Laws 131

X. Fasts and Feasts 143

XI. The Future Life 151

V

ISRAEL'S FAITH.

PART I.

Chapter I. The Existence Of A God

Everything in the world must have had a maker. You cannot imagine it possible that anything, however simple, made itself.

If I showed you a piece of stone, and told you that the stone made itself, you would laugh, and tell me that you could not believe such nonsense. And you would be quite right. You would tell me that the stone had no power to move, or to think, or to do anything — much less to make itself.

And if I showed you a plant, with some pretty flowers growing on it, and I told you that the plant made itself, you would laugh still more, and would say that you knew better. You would tell me, perhaps, that the plant had grown from a little seed, and that the little seed had come from another plant, just like the plant I was showing you, and that the first seed that ever became a plant, could never have been clever enough to make itself in such a wonderful way that the seed should bring forth a plant, and the plant a flower, and the flower a seed, and the new seed a plant again, and so on, year after year, till now.

And if I showed you an animal — say a bird — and told you that the bird made itself, you would laugh at me again. You would say that the first bird could never have been clever enough to make itself in such a wonderful way; and that if the bird had made itself, it would have been clever enough to keep itself alive forever, which we know no animal can do. And of course you would be right.

But, suppose some one told you that all the world, as you see it, came by chance — that the mountains and valleys, the beautiful trees, and the sweet-smeUing flowers, the beasts of the field, and men and women, and you too, all came by chance, you would think this idea still more laughable. You would say that chance never did anything in quite so orderly a fashion. You would call to mind that when you upset your box of toys by accident or by chance, the toys tumbled out in the greatest disorder, and you would have been very much astonished if it had been otherwise, for the things you see in the world are very regular and very orderly.

You never saw trees grow upside down, or the sun shine in the middle of the night, or anything heavy refuse to fall to the ground — all which might happen, ij things were arranged by chance.

All the things we see around us on this beautiful Earth seem to be arranged for one design or purpose, for the good of every hving being, and above all, of man. And we know very well that if there is a design or purpose in anything, that thing cannot be said to be the work of chance, but must have had some one to design it.

I dare say you have, at some time or other, seen a steam-engine, and have thought it a very wonderful thing. Even if you look at it from a distance, as it almost flies along the iron rails, dragging after it cars piled with goods, or full of people, it seems a Hving wonder. But if you walk close up to it, while it is standing still, you will think it yet more wonderful. For you will see that it is made up of an enormous number of parts, some very strong, and some very dehcate; and if you ask how many pieces there are in it, you will be told that there are nearly four thousand, and that each one of those four thousand pieces is necessary to make the great giant move. And then you will think to yourself how clever the men must be who could make such a wonderful machine.

And if any one were to tell you that the steam-engine came together by chance, or that it was not made by an intelHgent or clever maker, you would tell him he was a stupid fellow to talk such nonsense. You would say: "I see here four thousand pieces of metal of different shapes and kinds, some large and some small, fitting into one another exactly. They could not possibly have come together by chance; there is design or intention in their being so put together as to enable the machine to move; consequently there must have been somebody to design and plan it, and that person, whoever he was, we call the maker of the engine, without whom that engine would never have been made." This would be a very sensible answer.

But now I am going to talk of engines much more wonderful than the steam-engine. Perhaps you may look at them with less wonder, because they make less noise; but if you observe them attentively, you will see in them even more to admire. The more you look, the more is there to be seen ; and though, unlike the steam-engine, you will not find the maker's name written in letters of brass upon them, you will not be slow to find out who was the maker.

The sun, the moon, the stars, and the Earth on which we live are even more wonderful engines. And I call them engines, because they are known to move, to be always moving; not hke the steam-engine, by fits and starts, when water is poured in and heat applied; but ever moving, ever working, never stopping to take rest, never even slackening speed for an instant.

Then, too, there are engines on the Earth itself, which we may examine more closely than we can the sun, moon, and stars — they are the animals that Hve on this Earth. Yes; these, too, are engines, and many of them have more parts than the steam-engine itself, and these parts are much less hkely to get out of order, and they need fuel or food less frequently, and they are capable of repairing themselves over and over again, when they wear out or get damaged, till they get so old that there is hardly anything left worth repairing.

Let us take one of these living engines as an exampie, one with which you are better acquainted than any other; nsimdy— yourself.

You will remember that the steam-engine is a running-machine. It moves, and drags a train after it; but it can do nothing else. You, however, are something more. You are a reading and writing machine, a tasting and smelUng machine, a seeing and feeling machine, a hearing and talking machine; but the greatest wonder of all is that this machinery of yours is under the control or management of a something within you, which you cannot see, and which is called the Willj and that this Will is guided by another unseen something within you, which we call Reason.

But as we can see neither the Will nor the Reason, we will let them alone for the present, and talk about the machinery only.

Look at your hand. How wisely it is fitted for its purpose! It can carry a heavy load of books, and it can thread the finest needle with the finest thread. It can hurl a baseball a very long way, and it can make the thinnest up-stroke with the finest pen. It can throw; it can carry; it can pull; it can push; it can lift; it can crush; it can bind; it can loosen. Look at that great stout workman. He has just been Hfting a hundred- weight of grain with his brawny hands ! Look at him now. He is using the same hand to take out a little particle of dust that has been blown into his fellow-workman's eye!

I called you just now an engine. I think I must have been wrong. Why, your hand alone is a hundred

ISRAEL'S FAITH.

engines all put together; for it can do a hundred different things, and many quite opposite things.

Just look at your hand, and ask yourself if you think it became a part of your body by chance, or without design or intention. Of course you will reply, that it was designed for the express purpose of doing all the things which we see it doing, just as the steam-engine was designed for the express purpose of moving and dragging. Therefore, we cannot help saying at least the same of the hand as we said of the steam-engine, that the hand must have had a very clever maker; and I think you would feel incHned to add that, as the hand is so much more wonderful than the steam-engine, and as no man, however clever, can make a true imitation of a hand with all its powers and movements, the maker of the hand must be far more clever than he who invented or made the steam-engine.

Now the hand is only one part of you. There are hundreds of other parts of the body quite as wonderful; and the more you look into these matters, the more you will see to admire, and the more certain you will become that the maker of all these wonderful contrivances of your body must be a Being of mighty skill.

But there are other animals which, so far as their bodies are concerned, are quite as wonderful. There is the elephant; for example, he has a trunk which can tear up a huge tree and can also pick up a pin. There is the camel, too, vnth an extra stomach, capable of holding enough spare water to enable him to travel a long distance, in the desert, without drinking.

There is not an animal that can be named, whose body is not truly wonderful in every point of its structure. And then, if we look more closely into the peculiarities and habits of each animal, we shall find how beautifully the body of each is suited to the cHmate in which it is to live: how some are clothed with fur, others with wool, others with bristles, according to the heat or cold to which each is Hkely to be subject.

Then, also, we see how wonderfully it is provided for that life should be preserved as long as possible. For example, v/e know that all animals are liable to accidental injuries, and that they would soon die if those injuries were not repaired. But we see that the animal has in itself the materials for its own cure. If part of a steam-engine be broken or damaged, engineers must come with tools to mend it. The engine cannot mend itself. But animals are machines that can and do mend themselves. If the skin be broken in a Hving animal, or the flesh torn, there is a substance produced by the wound itself which heals it. Even if the bone of a living animal be broken, the broken edges give forth a Hquid which soon hardens into solid bone, making the broken parts, if placed together, stick to one another, and form one sound bone again.

Wherever we look we find something to admire, something to wonder at. I do not mean to say that we can always tell the design or object or use of everything, when we see it. But that is caused by our ignorance. At one time, people were much puzzled to know what could be the use of certain poisonous plants; but now they have found out that these plants which destroy Hfe may, if used in a particular way and in very small quantities, serve as medicines to cure disease and so preserve Hfe. And thus it may be with many other poisons and many other things whose object we cannot at present understand. Perhaps, when the world becomes wiser, we shall know all about them too.

And, after all, those things which puzzle us are not the greatest or the most important points in the universe. The things we see every day are the greatest wonders. Sunrise and sunset, rain and snow, wind and hail, the change of the seasons, the growth of plants, and animals — Hfeless seeds becoming Hving flowers; Hfeless eggs becoming Hving birds; Hfe everywhere, in the sea, in the fields, in the rivers, in the forests, in the air; Hving things made to last tiU their place is taken by other Hving things Hke themselves; and every one of these Hving things fuU of machinery which seems perfection — these are wonders indeed!

If the steam-engine must have had such a very clever maker, what shall we say of the World ?

Do you know that, when I ask myself that question, I begin to have quite a poor opinion of the steam-engine ? For I never knew a steam-engine to lay eggs, and bring forth a brood of Httle steam-engines, Hke yonder fine old hen with her large family of chickens. Nor did I ever know a steam-engine that was capable of doing anything else than move; nor did I ever know a steam-engine that was out of order, get itself in order again, without being doctored by an engineer.

And still the steam-engine is a very wonderful thing, and must have had a very clever maker.

Well, what shall we say of the World ?

I am sure you will come to the conclusion, that the World and its contents must have had a maker possessed of an intelligence, power, and cleverness, to which the intelligence, power, and cleverness of the engine-maker cannot bear the least comparison.

This great and wonderful Maker of the World and its contents we call God; and what I have tried to prove to you is the existence of a god, who designed and created the World.

Chapter II. The Unity Of God

Perhaps you may ask, How am I to know that the world had only one Maker? How am I to know that there is only one God ?

You might point to the steam-engine and tell me it was made by several makers, and then argue that each wonder of the World might have had a separate maker.

You would not be the first person to reason in this way. Indeed, in olden times, there were several nations who believed in almost any number of gods.

I am going to prove to you that these people were very foolish, and that it is right and reasonable to be- Heve that there is only one God, the Creator of the whole World and of everything therein. This is what is meant by the Unity, or oneness of God.

Let us take another look at the steam-engine. Now, it is certainly true that the engine was made by several people; but one man only designed it. That is to say, there was one man only, who first made a drawing or picture of it before it was begun. And that same man it was, who decided how large it should be, and how strong it should be, how much weight it should be able to drag, how fast it should be able to run, and how

THE UNITY OF GOD. II

large and how small every one of the four thousand pieces of metal should be. And all the men who were employed in making the engine were just like so many machines, obeying the orders of the master engineer, not daring to disobey, but following exactly the picture or design he had set before them.

It was only by this strict obedience that the engine could ever have been finished, and turn out to be a moving machine; for if one of the workmen took it into his head to make one of the parts larger or smaller than was intended by the master engineer, the engine would have turned out weak or unruly, or, perhaps, would never have been able to move at all.

So you see, after all, the whole engine might be said to be the work of one man; for, in making it, the common workmen, who put it together, had no more to do with the design or intention than the miners who dug out of the earth the metals of which it was made.

Indeed, if we look at the finished steam-engine, we shall at once see that one man only must have had the arrangement of it. If it were not so, the enormous number of parts would not fit into one another so exactly.

It is this exact fitting of the various parts, all pointing to one object or intention, which makes us feel sure that, however many hands put the engine together, one master-mind designed or arranged it.

Now, if I can show you that the Earth, nay, that the whole World is, in this respect, just like the steam-engine, that every little or great part exactly fits into some other part, and that each part, as well as the whole which is made up of the parts, points to one great object or design, you will believe that, no matter how many powers may have been used in making the great World, there was only one Gody who was the Masterengineer of the World, who designed, ordained, arranged, and regulated it all.

Let us begin with the Earth itself. What do we find therein? We find coal in abundance, to warm our homes and cook our food; then iron, the material of all those tools with which we till the ground, make our clothing, our furniture, indeed, everything that has to be shaped ; the stone to build our houses, and lime and sand, to join the stone together; and then, not the least of the treasures of the earth, we find springs of pure v/ater bursting out of the hard rocks, flowing in little streams, and swelling into large rivers, always ready and at hand to quench our thirst. All for the good oj the inhabitants oj this Earth.

Then let us consider the Sea. It is the great cistern, from which the sun and air draw up moisture. The moisture collects into clouds, the clouds fall in refreshing showers of rain upon the fields and forests, making the earth bring forth corn, and fruit, and flowers in abundance. And then the surplus water runs into rills, and the rills run into ditches, and the ditches into brooks, and the brooks into rivers, and the rivers into the sea; and so the water which came from the sea returns to the sea, completing its circle of usefulness, and ready to begin anew a like circle of silent, useful

THE UNITY OF GOD. I3

work; and all for the good oj the inhabitants 0} this Earth.

Next, let us consider the living things that swarm in the sea. There are shoals of fishes which yield food, sea-monsters which yield oil, and sea- weeds which manure the fields near the sea-coasts; all for the good of the inhabitants oj this Earth.

Then let us consider the Air. How wonderfully it is arranged ! We are always breathing a part of it ; so, too, are the plants. Now you might think that, in the course of time, all the air would be spent, or would become impure, through so many plants and animals breathing it; and so it would, but for the wise forethought of God.

The air, which you cannot see, and which you only feel when it blows against your face, is made up of several different kinds of gas or air, mixed together. One of these gases (oxygen) animals inhale or breathe in, and, when it has passed through their lungs, they breathe it out again. It is then found to be entirely changed, and to be exactly hke another part of the air (carbonic acid gas) which the plants breathe. And so, you see, the animals breathe out the very kind of air which the plants require.

But this is not all. This (carbonic acid) gas, which the plants and trees breathe, also becomes changed, in passing through them, and, when they breathe it out, it is changed back again into oxygen — the very kind of air that we and all animals require. It cannot matter how many animals there are upon the earth to be supplied with air. For, however impure they make it, the plants and trees are quite sure to set it right again.

Surely such a fact as this is quite enough to show that the animals, the plants, and the air they breathe, must have had one and the same Maker. For how could we imagine it possible that the animals were made by one maker, the plants by another, and the air they breathe by a third, and yet that this wonderful arrangement could exist ?

Another great fact in nature, which I shall proceed to explain, is that there is no waste.

If you inquire into the cause of this, you will find how it is that there is no waste. You will see that animals, plants, and even hfeless things, have a way of changing places one with the other. For example:

Suppose we sow some beans; the rain moistens them; in course of time, they will sprout. There is something in the seed which we call life (but which we do not at all understand), giving it the power of breathing the air, of drinking the water, and of feeding in the lifeless earth.

And so the seed grows into a plant. It becomes larger and larger. At last, it flowers; then the flowers drop off, and gradually the beans appear in their stead. A stem, a root, a number of leaves, a flower, and a quantity of beans, seem all to have come from a simple seed. But they have really come from many things besides the seed. Something has come out of the earth, and something out of the air, and these somethings, which were before lifeless, have mixed with the little seed, and become part of the living plant. How, we do not know, and perhaps never shall.

Now, what becomes of the plant? Let us watch and find out. Suppose a horse eats the beans. The beans will become part of his flesh and blood, and muscles and bones, and so such part of the plant, as is useful for food, becomes part of an animal. As for the remainder, it is not wasted. The leaves will fade and the stalks will wither; but the leaves will crumble into dust at last, and become part of the earth again — a very fertile part, known as leaf-mould. The stalks and roots will do the same, if left to themselves; but the farmer will, perhaps, burn them, and use the ashes for manure, which brings them to the same useful end ; for they become part of the earth again, ready, next year, to serve the same useful purpose ; perhaps not as part of a crop of beans, but for wheat, or barley, or something of that sort.

And bear this in mind. It is the same earth, the same hfeless soil, which becomes part of the beans, or part of the wheat, or part of the barley.

We have seen how the Hfeless earth changes into, and forms part of, the Hving plant, and how a portion of the Hving plant changes into, and forms parts of, the Hving and moving animal. Let us watch the further changes.

The horse which ate the beans, of course, breathes; and we know that part of his food goes to form the air which he breathes out. So certain portions of the beans go back into the air, which, you will remember^ was part l6 ISRAEL'S FAITH.

of the nourishment of the growing bean. And more than that, it goes back just in the very state, fit and ready for the plants to breathe.

But what becomes of the horse ? In course of time, it will die of old age. Its skin will be used for one purpose, and its hair for another, and, perhaps, its flesh will feed other animals; but its bones will be burned and ground for bone-earth, a most valuable manure; and such parts of the poor old horse as cannot be turned to some profitable purpose, will be buried in the earth, becoming dust, very fertile dust, ready, like the bone-earth, to grow a crop of beans, or wheat, or barley of extra- fine quahty.

The chain is thus complete between the animal, the vegetable, and the mineral creations.

Does it, then, seem possible that these things had more than one Maker? If there were two or more makers, would it be Hkely that the work of one would exactly fit into the work of the other, in every respect; that the object or intention of one would exactly agree with the object or intention of another; that the material used by the one would be the same as the material used by the other ?

If there were more than one Maker, would it be likely that the earth and all in it would be controlled by one never- changing law; that the great planets, which twinkle Hke Httle sparks in the sky, would follow the same law ("The law of gravitation"); that the animals would be so formed that they breathe one air, and the plants so formed that they breathe another air; and, alDove all, that there would be manifest in all the works of creation one main object, namely, the good 0} all living creatures?

The thing is impossible. There cannot be two or more makers. If such a work as the steam-engine required one master-mind to design it, what shall we say of the world, where we find thousands of objects — each more wonderful, more lasting, more perfect, than the steam-engine — and all fitting exactly into one another, and pointing to one object — Lije?

There can be but one conclusion — that the world must have been designed by one Master-Mind; that there is but one God, the Creator and Ruler of all things.

In olden times, there were so many people — and some very clever people, too — who beHeved in several gods.

They saw the works of Creation with eyes hke our eyes, but not with thoughts like our thoughts. They viewed the sun as the source of Hght, which made their fields fertile and their gardens gay. They viewed the rain as a source of gloom, and as an enemy of the sun, because it often spoiled their crops, undoing all the good which the sun had wrought. They considered the wind as an enemy of the rain, because it dried it up, and undid the rain's work.

So when they saw the different powers of nature fighting with each other, the one undoing the work of the other, they thought each power had a separate god which ruled it.

And this idea they carried still further. They saw l8 ISRAEL'S FAITH.

that men were ruled by different virtues and vices. One was moved by Revenge, another by Love, another by Hatred, another by Ambition, another by Avarice, another by Patriotism, another by Philanthropy, and so on; and they found such very different results produced by these different men, that they imagined the various virtues, vices, and passions, which led them or drove them on to these different results, must each have a different god.

Besides, they often saw in one and the same man^ perhaps in themselves (as we find in ourselves), good passions and bad passions, fighting with one another, sometimes the one and sometimes the other gaining the victory.

Thus it happened that they had a great number of gods; — a god of the sun, a god of the rain, a god of the winds, and a god of the waves, and so on.

No doubt, many of the clever people in those days must have thought this absurd; for some of them, in their books, made their gods cut a very funny figure, representing them as doing all sorts of ungodly things. But certainly there were millions who really beheved in all these gods. And we must not laugh at them; for they knew no better.

Their idea of a number of gods arose in this way: they noticed the sun, and noticed the rain, and noticed the wind; they saw the effects of each, but did not think of the effect of all put together. They saw that one power moistened the earth, and the other dried it; that one parched the earth, and the other cooled it;

but they did not see that it was the moistening and drying, the parching and cooling, which, all put together, made the crops grow.

So, too, in the affairs of men : they saw the love and the hatred, the charity and the revenge, the avarice and the ambition, the good and the evil, pulHng different ways ; but they did not see that all these opposites, put together, kept the world of men in that state of activity of mind and body which is a necessity of man's nature. In a word, they did not look at the world, as we have been looking at it, as a whole; and did not notice — indeed, did not know — how all these parts fitted into each other, and formed the whole.