Discourses and reviews upon questions in controversial theology and practical religion

Front matter

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IP

WORKS

Preface

The Volume, here offered to the public, is designed to give a comprehensive reply to the question, What is Unitarianism ? Many persons feel the want of something of this nature ; something beyond the brief compass of a Tract, and within the limits of a Volume, which they could give or point out, to those who are asking, " What are your general views of religion ? What are your views of the Scriptures, of faith in them, and of the doctrines and principles which they teach ?" Such inquirers are often not sufficiently interested to gather the information they seek, from scattered tracts, or to hunt for it through twenty volumes ; nor, if they were, is it likely that the tracts or volumes would be within their reach. The present volume will perhaps satisfy the questions, that are already in their minds ; and if it raises questions which it does not settle, they must be referred to other sources. In particular, reference may be made, on the Trinity, to Norton's Statement of Reasons : on the Offices of Christ, to Ware's Discourses ; on the general subject, to Sparks's Inquiry, Yates's Vindication, Peabody's and Burnap's Lectures, and the Works of Channing ; and for our practical views of religion, to the Discourses of Freeman, Buckminster, Thatcher, Abbot, Parker, Cappe and Channing, besides those of many living writers. 1* vi

PREFACE.

One word further the Author may be permitted to say of the manner in Avhich this volume is made up. It consists partly of discourses not before published, and partly of reprints of former publications. Of the latter kind are chiefly two series of papers, entitled " Cursory Observations on the Questions at issue between Orthodox and Liberal Christians ;" and " The Analogy of Religion with other subjects."

In short, the Author's purpose, in this volume, has been, in the first place, to offer a very brief summary of the Unitarian Belief ; in the next place, to lay down the essential principles of all religious faith ; thirdly, to state and defend our construction, as it is generally held among us, of the Christian doctrines ; fourthly, to illustrate, by analogy, our views of practical religion ; and finally, to present, somewhat at large, the general views entertained among us, of the Scriptures ; of the grounds of belief in them ; of the nature of their Inspiration ; of the New Testament doctrine of Justification by Faith ; and of the just Principles of Reasoning in religious inquiry. Under the last head, several Reviews from the Christian Examiner are introduced into the present edition, and two Discourses not before printed. In the last of them, bearing the title " That Errors in Theology have sprung from False Principles of Reasoning," the Author has attempted to show, as far as was compatible with the nature and limits of a popular Discourse, that the prevailing Theology is at war with the true inductive philosophy.

"With this brief statement, the volume is submitted to the Reader.

New-York, June, 1846.

Contents

PAGE

On the Nature of Religious Belief; with inferences concerning Doubt, Decision, Confidence, and the trial of faith, - - - -27

Cursory Observations on the Questions at issue between Orthodox and Liberal Christians.

I

Now I know in part. — 1 Cor. xiii. 12.

It is of some importance, I think it is of no little importance, that Ave should entertain just ideas of the nature of religious belief. To this subject therefore, and especially with a view to consider some difficulties and to meet some practical questions, I wish, at present, to invite your attention.

In the first place, then, it may be observed in general, that religious belief is essentially of the same nature as moral belief. In form they differ, but in substance they are the same. The common distinction between Religion and Morals, as totally different things, is as erroneous in principle as it is injurious in its effects. Both have their root in the same great original sense of rectitude, which God has impressed on our nature ; and without which we should not be men. By religion, we mean our duty to God ; and by morals, our duty to men : and both are bound upon us by the same essential reason ; that they are right. Or they are respectively, the love of God and the love of men ; and both, in their highest character, are a love of the same goodness. Piety and philanthropy are essentially of the same nature. The Bible appeals to both alike, and it does not sever, but it binds them together ; summing up all its commandments in these two ; " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour as thyself : n and saying emphatically, "he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen !"

Further ; as the original grounds of conviction, so the steps by which we arrive at our conclusions in both of these spheres of duty, are essentially the same. The steps are steps of reasoning. The Bible teaches morals and religion alike, and teaches them in the same way ; and we arrive at its meaning in both, by the same means ; viz. by that process of reasoning, called criticism. There is not one kind of criticism to be applied to those texts which teach the love of God, and another to those which teach the love of man ; there is the same process of reasoning in both cases. And so in Natural Theology, and Moral Philosophy, alike, we begin with certain original truths in the mind, and proceed to deduce certain duties ; and in both cases, the process of reasoning is, in kind, the same.

But now the material question, and that to which I have been endeavouring to bring you, is this ; what kind of reasoning is it ? And the answer is plain ; it is that kind of reasoning which is usually called moral reasoning. It is commonly denned, simply by being distinguished from mathematical reasoning. That is to say, it is not like a mathematical deduction, infallible ; it is not attended with a feeling of certainty, but only of belief.

But still we must distinguish ; fcr it is important to observe that the difference of which we speak relates only to deductions ; not at all to principles. The

THE NATURE OF RELIGIOUS EELIEF. 29

original principles of religion and morals are certain. They are as certain as any other principles ; as certain as the principles on which mathematical science is founded. They are not matters of belief at all, but matters of absolute knowledge. Though not in religious belief, accurately speaking, yet in religion, there are absolute certainties. I am as sure that I have a conscience and a religious nature ; I am as sure again, that benevolence and other moral qualities are right ; and I am as sure that my nature is constituted to approve and love them, wherever they appear, in man or in God, as I am of my own existence and identity, or as I am that my nature is constituted to assent to the truth of any mathematical axioms. It is important to say this, because the distinction commonly made between mathematical and moral reasonings, may be carelessly extended, so as to cover more ground than belongs to it. For the basis of the mathematics is not more certain and irrefragable, than the basis of morals.

But the moment we take one step from that basis, from those first principles, and enter upon deductions, it is agreed by all reasoners, that a marked and essential difference obtains. In the mathematics, every step of the deduction is as certain as the principle from which it started. In moral reasonings, it is not so. The ideas, involved in these reasonings, are not so definite, the terms not so clear, and the result is, by no means, so unerring. The steps of moral deduction, of philological criticism, are not steps of demonstration. But these are the steps that lead to religious belief, that conduct to a creed. A creed is not a certainty, but a belief. Put any certainty into a creed, and the absurdity would at once be felt. No one could gravely stand up and say, " I believe in my own existence ; 3*

I believe in my identity ; I believe that I ought to be a good man." These are matters of certainty ; but the propositions of a creed are matters of logical inference. The seal upon it is not absolute consciousness, but religious conviction. The scale, on which that conviction is marked, is the scale of probability. I use this term, probability, I ought to say, in the technical sense which moral reasoners assign to it, which is stronger, and more definite than the popular sense. I use it as simply opposed to certainty. On the scale of probability, or of moral reasoning, in other words, belief often rises, no doubt, almost to certainty. But it never, strictly speaking, arrives at that point. It is never absolute certainty ; it is never perfect knowledge. For, " we know in part," says the Apostle.

From these views, I am not aware that any intelligent moral or religious reasoners dissent. The distinction is familiar in all the standard writers, and may be considered as the settled judgment of all who are competent to form an opinion on the subject. Moral evidence is not demonstration. Belief is not knowledge. Believing a thing to be true, is not knowing it to be true.

Not to dwell longer, then, upon a point so plain, and so universally conceded, my further purpose is to offer some remarks upon this admitted nature of religious belief.

I. My first remark is, if the view presented be just, that it is common to assign, in some respects, a very injurious and unwarrantable importance to doubts.

Doubts enter into the very processes by which we arrive at belief. Nay, they enter into the very nature of belief itself, They constitute a part of it, by very definition. Believing is doubting, to a certain extent. Believing and doubting are correlative terms. They are co-essential elements. "We know in part." That is to say, our knowledge is imperfect. But imperfect knowledge implies uncertainty. And uncertainty is doubt.

But the prevalent feeling and policy of the Christian world has been, to beat down and destroy doubts. It has given them no quarter. It has allowed them no place in the theory of its creeds, though those creeds have begun with the phrase "I believe not "I know," but "I believe." And this tendency of the public opinion and practice of the churches, has had the effect, 1 wish it may be considered, to give not only an unwarrantable, but a most injurious importance to doubts. Its effect has been, not only to rend the bosom of the church, to cast out many honest and virtuous men from it, to make a new sect for every new doubt ; but, I fear, to make many, who might have been preserved from that result, infidels. Doubt, I say, has derived a factitious importance, from this universal persecution. That portion of evidence, which leads a man to doubt, has been held by him to deserve more attention, than that which leads him to believe. One fraction of doubt has weighed with him more than nine parts of evidence in favour of Christianity, and he has become an unbeliever, we may say, against his own convictions. It is an independent and honest mind, too — which makes the case a more unfortunate one — that is especially liable to be carried away by this fallacy. Such an one, afraid of every thing implicit and traditional in faith, says, "I have a doubt; I must be fair and impartial ; I must be true to my convictions ; I must assent to nothing from fear or favour ; / have a doubt" this man says, " and how can I say I believe, so long as I doubt ?" But why, let me ask in turn, should he pay this sort of homage to a mere negative conviction 2

32 TILS NATURE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF.

What is there in a doubt ; that is to say, what is there in a reason against, that is to be treated with so much more consideration, than in a reason for ? Whyshould not this man say, though he may not feel that the argument is perfectly satisfactory, though he mat/ be troubled with doubts : why should he not say, " I have twice as much evidence for the Bible and a future life, as I have against them, and how can I doubt so long as I have that evidence ?" I am sure this conclusion would be twice as rational as the other ; and I am certain, that the spirit of this conclusion would have saved many from unbelief. But we do not ask so much as we have asked, in form, and by w~ay of rejoinder. We do not ask, we have no right, as advocates or apologists for Christianity, to ask the man who hesitates, to say that he has no doubts ; but we do ask, and have, in reason, a right to ask, that he should yield his mind, not to any assumed power or importance of doubt, but to the preponderance of evidence.

Beside the doubt about Christianity, there is another which may be considered as a part of it, but which, J think, demands a distinct notice ; and that is, the doubt about a future life. This is a doubt which is much more frequently felt, than expressed. You will always observe, when it is expressed, that it is done with great reluctance and caution, with a feeling almost as if a crime were confessed ; and with a feeling too, as if the matter of the confession were quite as peculiar to the individual confessing, as it is painful to him.

Now the difficulty here arises from our not sufficiently considering the nature of moral evidence, the nature of religious belief. It would relieve us, to be at once more frank and rational, instead of wrapping up the matter like a dark secret, in the cloud of our speculative misapprehensions. The truth is, that, in doubt on this point, there is nothing very strange. It belongs to more minds than you may imagine. It must belong, more or less, to all minds. It enters into the very nature of our belief in a future state. For that belief is not certainty. The point in question, is not the subject of intuition. No man ever saw the world of departed spirits. All the views and convictions, that any man has or can have about it, fall short of actual knowledge. We believe, indeed, in the divine mission of Christ. We believe, too, in the mercy of God, and should entertain some hope of a future life, even on the general ground of natural Theology. We see not, moreover, how the scene of this life can be cleared up, how the great plan of things can be made consistent or tolerable, without a future scene. And on all these accounts we have a strong faith in futurity. But to say that this faith has passed beyond every shadow of doubt, is to say more than is true, more than can be reasonably demanded of faith.

Now this shadow, sometimes passing over the mind ; why should it chill, or darken, or distress any one, as if it were something portentous, or in fact, anything extraordinary ? Certainty, it is true, would be grateful. Uncertainty is painful ; though it is also, I think, and will yet attempt to show, useful. It is painful, however, I confess, in proportion as it is great. But this is what I say ; it is not at all surprising. It is a part of our dispensation. Some clouds are between us and those ever bright regions, in whose existence we fully believe. So God has willed it to be We see through a glass darkly. We walk by faith and not by sight. We long for a sight of those regions of existence in which we are to live ; but it has not pleased God to give us that vision.

And the point that I would urge is, that we should not give any undue importance to this lack of vision, or of certainty. We should do most unwisely and unnecessarily, to magnify the importance of this doubt, by considering it as anything peculiar, or awful, or criminal. It is painful, indeed, but not wonderful. It is painful ; but the pain, like all the pains of our moral imperfection, is an element of improvement; and it is to be removed by reflection, by prayer, by self-purification. To the mind rightly thinking and feeling, the evidence of immortality is growing continually stronger and stronger. Already with some, it touches upon the borders of certainty. So may it do with every one who hears me. And the direction to be given for every one's guidance is, not to stumble at doubt, but to press on to certainty. And I hold and firmly believe, that an assurance, all but vision, is just as certainly at the end of the process, with every right mind, as complete demonstration is at the end of every true theorem in science.

This undue importance attached to doubts, becomes a still more serious matter, when it affects not only a man's opinions, bat his practice. Do not many neglect to lead a strictly virtuous and religious life, on this plea of uncertainty about the result ? Is it not, at least, the plea which the heart secretly offers, to justify its indolence or indifference ? A man says with himself, " I do not know what is the right way, there are so many disputes about it ;" and he thinks that, an apology for his neglect of the whole subject. Or he says, perhaps, " I do not know that the Bible is true ; I do not know that there is any future life, or that there is any retribution hereafter. If I did knoio it, I should act upon my knowledge ; but the fact is, there is no certainty about these matters, and therefore I shall give myself no trouble about them." Now to justify this conclusion, he should be able to say, " I know that the Bible is not true, and that there is no future life, and no retribution hereafter." If he could say this, then his premises would be as broad as his conclusion. But to say, " I do not know," and therefore to do nothing, is as if a man should say, " I do not know that I shall have a crop, and therefore I will sow no seed :" or, " I do not know that I shall gain property, and therefore I will do no business ;" or, " I do not know that I shall obtain happiness, and therefore I will not seek it." The truth is, that, in the affairs of this life, men act upon the strongest evidence, upon the strongest probability; it is a part of the very wisdom of their condition, that they should so act ; and so they ought to act, so it is wise that they should be left to act, in the affairs of religion. If any one refuses to act upon such a ground, he refuses the discipline of his own nature, and of God's providence ; and neither his own nature nor the providence of heaven, will hold him guiltless.

II. Nay more, as a religious being, he must act upon some ground, and he ought to cheese the most reasonable ground ; and this is the substance of the second remark I have to offer on the nature of religious belief.

It is not often enough considered, perhaps, that every man, every thinking man, at least, must have some theory, must choose between opposing arguments ; must come to some conclusion, which he is to take and defend, with all its difficulties. He who doubts, is apt to regard himself as occupying vantage ground in religious discussion ; as occupying a position above the believer, and entitled to look down upon him without sympathy, and even with scorn ; as if he, the infidel, stood aloof from the difficulties that press upon questions of this nature. But this is an entire mistake.

He too, the infidel, is in the battle, and there is no discharge in that war. I have said that believing is doubting to a certain extent. I now say that doubting is believing to a certain extent. The doubter holds a theory. That extreme of doubt, denominated Pyrrhonism, is still a theory. It is believing something ; and something very prodigious, too ; even that nothing is to be believed ! Doubting, I say, is believing to a certain extent. A man may say he is certain of nothing. But he is certain, I suppose, of his uncertainty; certain that he is a doubter ; certain then that he is a thinker ; certain that he is a conscious being. But still he may say, willing to doubt all he can, that with regard to the objects of his consciousness, he can have no certainty. He is conscious of the difference between truth and error, right and wrong ; but he is not certain, he says, that these perceptions of his agree with the absolute, the real truth of things. Is this doubt reasonable ; or possible? A man has a perception of existence. What existence ? His own. He knows that he exists. A man has a perception of rectitude. What rectitude ? Why, of a rectitude within hi?n, just as certainly existing as he exists. There is a feeling in him : he approves it. That is final. He cannot go behind this consciousness, into a region of doubt, any more than he can go behind the consciousness of his existence. Like a flash of lightning, like the voice of thunder, is this revelation of conscience from the thickest cloud of his doubts ; it is as clear and strong and irresistible.

But suppose that we have brought the doubter thus far to the recognition of the great primitive facts of philosophy and religion ; yet when we come to the deductions from these facts, to a system of faith, we have admitted that there is some uncertainty. How shall our reasoner proceed here ? Shall he say that because there is uncertainty, he will believe nothing 1 That would be refusing to do the only thing and the very thing, which the circumstances require of him : even to choose between opposing arguments. It would be as if the mariner should say, " the waters are unstable beneath me ; they swa5 r me this way and that way ; and I will lay no course across the deep." No, the only question is ; what is it best to do ? What is the wisest course to take ? What is it most reasonable to believe in ? The moral inquirer is on the ocean ; and to give himself up to doubt, indifference and inaction, is to perish there. And the question is between remaining in this state, and adopting some religious faith for guidance and support.

Now it appears to me, that the coldest and feeblest statement of the argument for religious faith, gathers strength and warmth, from being placed in this point of light. For thus would a man reason on this ground. " To doubt every thing, to doubt all the primitive facts of my moral consciousness, I have admitted, is self-contradicting absurdity. But to reject all religious systems flowing from them, because they are not equally certain, is as false in philosophy as to reject the original facts. Something, I must believe; something better or something worse. Some conclusions flow out of the principles, and I cannot help it. To reject all conclusion is irrational and impossible folly. Nay more, I am bound to accept those conclusions that favour the improvement of my nature. That I am made to improve is as certain as that I am made to be. Now to reject all religious faith, is ruin to my spiritual nature. To deny, for instance, the doctrine of immoiv tality, comes to the same thing ; my soul dies now, if it is not to live for ever. To reject Christianity is to reject what is obviously the most powerful means of 4 improvement in the world. At any rate, if there be no truth at all in religion, if its grandest principles are falsehoods, and its grandest revelations are dreams, then the very spring of improvement in me is broken, and my situation involves this astounding absurdity ; that I am made to improve, to be happy in nothing else, and yet that this is the very thing for which no provision is made ; that an appetite is given me, which craves divine and immortal good ; that on its being supplied depends the essential life of my mind and heart ; and yet, that beneath the heavens there is no food for it; no, nor above the heavens; that the only provision made for it is poison and death !"

Can this be? — as it must be if the skeptic's theory be true. Can it be that a light is on my path, which leads me to the loftiest and most blessed virtue and happiness — such is the light of religion — and yet that it sprung from the dark suggestions of fraud and imposture ? Can it be. that God has formed our minds to feel the most inexpressible longings after a life beyond the barriers of time ; and yet, that he has left our hearts to break with the dreadful conviction that the blessed land is not for us? Is this the obvious reasonableness of the skeptic's choice? Is this the charm of doubt, that is to outweigh the whole mass of evidence? Why such useless and cruel contradictions and incongruities, as enter into the unbeliever's plan ? Why are we sent to wander through this world, in sorrow and despair, as we must do, if there is no guiding light and no inviting prospect?

It would be easy, if there were space in this discussion, to present in many lights, the glaring contradictions to which skepticism must lead, and which surely are harder to receive than any tolerably rational system of faith. Suppose that such system were not free from serious difficulties. I think it is; but suppose that it were not. Yet if the weight of evidence be in its favour ; and if we must embrace some system, and that of faith clears up more difficulties than the opposite system ; is it not most reasonable that our minds should settle down into a calm and confiding belief? Let every man, with these views, make his election. Let him choose — for these are the questions — whether he will take, for his portion, light or darkness, cheerfulness or sadness, hope or despair, the warmth of confiding piety or the cold and cheerless atmosphere of distrust, the spirit of sacred improvement or the spirit of worldly negligence and apathy. I do not wish, in making this contrast, to speak Avith any harshness of skepticism. I state it as it appears to myself, and as it would appear, let me embrace whichever theory I might. Faith is light, and cheerfulness, and hope, and devotion, and improvement. And doubt, on essential points, is in its very nature darkness, and sadness, and despondency, and distrust, and spiritual death.

For which, think you — for I cannot help pressing the alternative a moment longer — for which was our nature made 1 To be lifted up and strengthened, to be bright and happy, or to be cast down and crushed ; to be the victim of doubt ; to be plunged into the dungeon of despair ? Suppose a man should literally shut himself up in a dungeon, should sit down in darkness, and surround himself with none but dismal objects, should resign his powers to inaction, and give up all the glorious prospects and enjoyments of the wide and boundless universe; and then should say, that this was the portion designed for him by the Author of nature. What should we say to him? We should say, and surely we should take strong ground, " Your Maker has given you limbs, and senses ; he has given

40 THE NATURE OP RELIGIOUS BELIEF.

you active powers, and capacities for improvement, and he designed that you should use them ; he made you not to dwell in a prison, not to dwell in dungeon glooms, but he made you for light, and action, and freedom, and improvement, and happiness. Your senses, your very faculties, both of body and mind, will perish and die, in this situation; go forth, then, into the open and fair domain of nature and life." And this we may say, with equal force, to him who is pausing on the threshold of the dreary prison-house of skepticism. God made us not to know, not to know everything, for then must he have made us equal to himself ; but to believe, to confide, to trust. And he who refuses to receive what is reasonable, because it is not certain, refuses obedience to that very law, under which he is created and must live.