For though Christ spoke so much in symbols and parables, literal people took him literally. And so they do still. When he said that except men ate his flesh and drank his blood they could not be his, the literalists said, "How can this man give us his flesh to eat?" And so many persons still think that somehow Christ's actual body is to be eaten in the Lord's supper. So, when he said that the Son of man should be seen "coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory, and send his angels with the sound of a trumpet, and gather his elect from the four winds," they took it literally. His apostles, even, may have supposed that he was to be seen up in the air in physical form,(43) and that a material trumpet was to be blown. But all this was the flesh, the garb of his thought. The spirit of his thought only is of value; the flesh profits nothing. The apostles were wrong in supposing—if they did suppose it—that Christ was to come in their day in the air, in an outward physical fashion, with an outward noise, making a great demonstration to the senses of sight and hearing. Christ never came so, and he never will come so. The only coming of Christ possible is spiritual coming, for Christ is spirit. He did come, therefore, in the days of the apostles, in the great access of faith and power in their own souls, and in the souls of those whom they converted. He came in power and great glory, when his truth came to human minds, and his love to human hearts. He sent his angels then, and gathered his elect from the four quarters of the heavens. When Paul was converted, Christ came to him; when the negro chamberlain of the Queen of Ethiopia was converted, Christ came to him; when the people of Ephesus and Corinth, Philippi and Rome, were converted, Christ came to them. The trumpet sounded, but it was in their souls that it sounded; the angels summoned the elect, but these angels were the convictions sent into their reason, and the longings awakened in their hearts.

Materialists and Literalists are always the same. The apostles soon rose out of their literalism, and soon spoke of Christ as being revealed within them, not outside of them; dwelling, not in the air, but in their hearts. But literalists, down to this day, have always imagined the coming of Christ to be to the senses, rather than to the soul. They do not see that a great noise in the air is not so glorious a thing as a voice heard in the depths of the heart, and a great outward conflagration somehow seems to them more imposing than the burning up of falsehood and sin in the world. So we are always hearing people predict that Christ is to come in 1846, or 1856, or 1866, meaning thereby that they expect some great outward event then, visible to eyes and ears. "Fools, and slow of heart," not to see that the only possible coming of Him who is spirit and love is a coming in the soul, and that he has come, and is coming, and is to come more and more abundantly, from day to day. So they read about the heavens and earth being burned up, and of a new heavens and earth; and they imagine that the sky is somehow to be burned with material fire, and the surface of the earth to sink into the flaming abyss beneath us. But if this should happen, that would have nothing to do with the coming of Christ. The heavens and earth which he consumes with the breath of his mouth, and destroys with the brightness of his coming, are the religions and moralities, the institutions and works, of men. And the new heavens and new earth which take their place are the higher, nobler, purer religions and moralities which flow out of the Spirit of Christ.



4. Examination of the Account of Christ's Coming given by Jesus in Matthew (chapters 24-26).

A great difficulty in regard to the coming of Christ is to combine in one view the different notions given in Scripture concerning it. Many of these ideas indicate that the coming of Christ took place at the destruction of Jerusalem, as, for example, the description of wars, destruction of the Temple, and especially the declaration that "this generation shall not pass away till all these things be fulfilled." On the other hand, the coming of Christ is expressly connected, in our translation, with "the end of the world," and with the general judgment. Hence a difficulty in interpreting these passages, some persons thinking that the coming of Christ took place at the destruction of Jerusalem; others thinking that it is yet to take place at the end of the world; others, again, maintaining two or more comings of Christ; and others spiritualizing the whole of it, and making it mean the spread of the spirit of Christianity.

Let us, therefore, examine the passage in which Christ's coming is spoken of, and endeavor to find its natural and obvious meaning, and so see how far the common Orthodox conception is correct.

The subject is not unimportant. Several chapters in the Gospel of Matthew (24-26) are devoted to the description of this event. All of the Epistles contain frequent allusions to it. The apostles unquestionably expected Christ's coming in their day, and they had a right to do so, inasmuch as Jesus himself had distinctly said that their generation would not pass away till all was fulfilled. And in the main fact they were not mistaken, however they may have been deceived, as we have before said, in taking too outward a view of the attending circumstances. For if Christ's coming did not take place in their day, not only were they themselves mistaken on a most important point, but Jesus was mistaken likewise.

Some of the other points in the description of this event are these: Christ's coming was to be like that of the thief in the night—that is, it was to be unexpected, and to take men unprepared. It was to be preceded by wars, commotions, and misery in every form; preceded also by the preaching of the truth in many lands. It was to be as difficult to locate Christ at his coming, as to fix the lightning, which comes out of the east and shines to the west. It was to be attended with great spiritual darkness, even in the minds of the wise and good. The sun, and moon, and stars of the moral world were to be darkened, and the powers of the heavens to be shaken; and of ten virgins, all going together to meet the bridegroom, half would be found spiritually asleep when he came. Christ's coming would be especially judgment and punishment. He would part the sheep from the goats. He would consume with the brightness of his coming the man of sin. Such are some of the traits with which the coming of Jesus is described by himself and by his apostles. How are these to be reconciled with the facts, and what was his coming?

The best way to get at the facts is to begin at the beginning, and ask what the disciples meant when they asked for the signs of Christ's coming. They were sitting with Jesus on the Mount of Olives, looking across the valley between, at the Temple. They saw and admired the gorgeous magnificence of this vast edifice towering before them, white with marble and yellow with gold, against the deep blue sky of that sunny land, and as they admired it, Jesus told them that every stone of that divine structure should be cast down. And then they asked, "When shall these things be? and what shall be the signs of thy coming, and of the end of the world?" What was the connection, in their minds, between the three events? Why should they have at once inferred that the destruction of the Temple was to take place at the coming of Christ, and that the coming of Christ was to take place at the end of the world? There was no connection at all, according to the common notions on this subject. If the coming of Christ was to be a great outward manifestation in the sky, to take place long after his death, after the lapse of thousands of years, and at the destruction of the visible universe, what had that to do with the Jewish Temple? or, indeed, what had that to do with any of their ideas concerning their Master? But the notion in their minds, when they asked the question, was something very different; not the present Christian idea, but the usual Jewish idea. They spoke as Jews, out of the notions of their day. Christ answered what was in their minds, not what is in ours. If we wish to know what he meant, we must place ourselves on their stand-point, look out of their eyes, and listen with their ears.

The coming of Christ had a very distinct meaning to the Jewish mind. It meant the manifestation of the Messiah, as such. It meant his coming to reign as king. It meant his manifestation in Judea, in Jerusalem, as the great Son of David, and the submission of the Jews, and Gentiles with them, to his authority. The disciples of Jesus, believing him to be the Christ, believed that he was to come as such. He had come as Prophet, as Teacher, as a worker of beneficent miracles, but he had not yet come as Christ, as King. They were not asking about any second coming after his death and resurrection, for they did not believe that he was to die. They were asking for his present triumphant manifestation and investiture as the Messiah.

Nor were they asking—as our translators make them ask—for "the end of the world." But they were asking for the end of the age—that is, of the first age. We have said that the Jews divided all time into two great periods; one the age preceding the Messiah, the other the age of the Messiah. The first was called this age, or the present age; the other the coming age. The end of the first period and beginning of the second were called the ends of the age; as where Paul says, "These are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come;" and where he says that Christ has "now once appeared in the end of the world to put away sin." These were the ideas of the Jews, as we know from history. When, therefore, Christ spoke of the overthrow of the Temple, they inferred that he was speaking of the beginning of the Messianic age; since the Temple would not be overthrown while the Jewish theocratic and Levitical government continued. Now, as the Jewish age did come to an end at the destruction of Jerusalem, and Christianity, as the universal religion, took the place of Judaism in the education of the human race, this really was the coming of the Messiah and the end of the age.

We understand, therefore, Christ to have been really speaking of his coming, as an event soon to take place, and which did soon take place, when, at the destruction of Jerusalem, the Jewish Christians were scattered through the world, and Christianity took its place as a universal religion.(44) If this exhausted the meaning of the idea, it would be of very little interest to us. But the contents of the passage are more rich and full; and, like most of Christ's sayings, besides its present and immediate application, it has more universal and far-reaching meanings. The principles of Christianity which were manifested then, continue to be manifested in other forms to-day. Jesus said on one occasion, "The hour is coming, and now is, when all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of man." And on another occasion, "The hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father." The hour had come in its first manifestation, but was to come again in other and richer manifestations of the same principle. So Christ himself came as King at the taking of Jerusalem, but has come since, again and again, more plainly and fully, in other triumphs of his truth, in other manifestations of his power. We believe that the coming of Christ took place at the destruction of Jerusalem. We believe that it has taken place since, in other historical events. We believe that it is to take place more fully hereafter, in this life and in the other life.

Let us look and consider how this may be.



5. Coming of Christ in Human History at different Times.

As we look back through the eighteen centuries of Christian history, we can observe many events which may now be seen to have been each a coming of Christ. When, at the destruction of Jerusalem, the Mosaic theocracy went down before the iron power of Rome, amid those scenes of horror the firmest believers in Christ might have feared only evil. It seemed to be the overthrow of everything most sacred—the triumph of Paganism over the worship of Jehovah. Yet what was the result? Jesus then ceased to be the Jewish Messiah, and began to reign over all nations as the world-teacher, the Son of God, the prophet for mankind. Since then, more and more, the world has gone to him as to its great Master. This, therefore, was a coming of Christ.

Look again. The early centuries are disgraced with theological wars. Fierce conflicts are carried on about the Trinity, and the rank of Jesus in the universe. All regard for the pure, divine truth of Christianity seems forgotten in the fury of these controversies. Yet, nevertheless, amid all the absurdity and contradiction, one truth emerges, everywhere recognized—that in Jesus was something divine; that God was more fully manifest in him than elsewhere; that he is the moral image of the Infinite One. This is another coming of Christ. He comes now not merely as a prophet, but as the revealer of divine love and truth, in his own character. The theological doctrines, in which this truth has been wrapped, are the husks and shells which the world will throw away. But throughout Christendom the idea of God is derived from the character of Jesus, and in this way Jesus has come to rule the hearts of men as their divine King.

Other centuries passed by, and we find new and strange ideas taking possession of men's minds. A horror of life, a dread of the sins of the world, drive men into the desert, to live as hermits and anchorites. Thousands and tens of thousands of monks withdrew from the world into the wilderness. All Christianity appeared to be changing into a new form of heathenish, self-inflicted torture. Its blessed humanity, its genial influences on social life, seemed to be fast disappearing. Nevertheless, out of all this error one truth emerged, one Christian idea was developed—that of self-discipline and self-culture. And in the development of this idea Christ came to reign over the individual soul as its Master, Guide, and Redeemer from all sin.

After this arose the Papacy. The Church, as a powerful institution, became ambitious to rule the state and the world. A spiritual despotism appeared, surrounding itself with earthly splendor, grasping the sword of earthly power, and the farthest removed from the humble and gentle spirit of its Master. It would tolerate no opposition to its will, in high places or low. It hurled its thunders at the head of kings, and sent crusading armies to persecute and torture the peasants of the Piedmont valleys. Nothing could seem more full of the spirit of Antichrist than this spiritual despotism embodied in the Papacy. And yet, even through this evil there was developed a truth—that there was something in the world higher than kings, greater than the state. Papacy, with all its evils, was a standing proof, in an age of brute force, of the supremacy of mind over matter. So that, even here, the pride and selfishness of the priests and the popes have been overruled, in the providence of God, to give ascendency to a Christian idea, and to cause Christ to come as the King of the world.

Consider another important event in the history of Europe: the conversion of the barbarous tribes to Christianity. When the nations of the north poured from the forests of Germany and the deserts of Scandinavia over the Roman empire,—when Goths and Vandals, Franks, Lombards, and Normans, quenched the light of civilization and brought the dark ages over Europe,—how terrible seemed the gloom, and how hopeless the prospects, of the human race! But we now see the result in modern civilization. We see all these different nations subdued by the power of Christianity, and a new unity, a higher harmony, as the result. We see the great idea of the unity of the race, the harmony of nations, resulting from all this darkness and misery. So Christ has come again as the Prince of Peace, breaking down the partition walls, and proclaiming a brotherhood of man.

Let us look at one more event of history—the Lutheran Reformation. What evils attended it! What wars came out of it! How has the impulse to freedom given by Luther degenerated into licentiousness, run out in infidelity and unbelief! And yet, when we consider the ideas of personal responsibility and individual independence which have been born of it,—when we consider what an impulse it has given to thought, to free inquiry, to earnest investigation of truth, all the results of this fruitful principle,—we cannot doubt that this also was a coming of Jesus, the unfolding of a new and higher power in Christianity.

Thus has Christ come from age to age, and in the midst of apparent failure, increasing error, growing unbelief, and all forms of human wickedness, has acquired new power over the human mind. At the present day he is more the King of the world than ever. When he seems to go, then he comes. When iniquity most abounds, then he is nearest. When love grows cold in the hearts of his disciples, then a new impulse of faith is about to be given. When false prophets rise up and deceive many, then new champions of the truth are near at hand. Christ comes amid wars and persecutions. He comes unexpectedly, like the thief in the night; comes without observation; and while men say, "Lo, here!" and "Lo, there!" the kingdom of heaven is in the midst of them. He is not to be found in the desert, nor in the secret chambers; neither in public nor private; located neither in this nor that particular place; incarnate neither in this nor that particular person. But Christ comes like the lightning, seen over the whole heaven at once, in a new spirit pervading all parts of life, all parts of society.



6. Relation of the Parable of the Virgins, and of the Talents, to Christ's Coming.

We now see what is meant by the parable of the foolish and wise virgins, and of the talents, which follows it. We see their application to this description of Christ's coming. If the coming of Christ be thus unexpected, he will not be recognized by the sleeping servant, nor by those who beat their fellow-servants. Slothful Christians who make no effort to improve, persecuting Christians who spend their time in denouncing heretics, and saying, "My Lord delayeth his coming," never understand the signs of the times, nor recognize any new influx of divine light in the world. At each new coming of Christ those who have been faithful are rewarded by more light. To those who have, shall be given, and the faithless lose what they had before. From him who hath not, shall be taken away even what he seems to have. The capacity of seeing Christ when he comes, of recognizing him in any new manifestation of truth, depends on his previous fidelity.



7. Relation of the Account of the Judgment by the Messiah, in Matt. ch. 25, to his Coming.

But what is meant by the judgment described in the 25th chapter of Matthew, commencing, "When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory, and before him shall be gathered all nations, and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats." This stands in such close connection with what goes before, that many refer this also to the destruction of Jerusalem. But the moral meaning is so prominent, that others apply it entirely to the final judgment in the future life. The difficulties on both sides disappear if we reflect that the principles which govern this life and the next are identical—that whether Christ came at Jerusalem, comes to-day, or comes in the future life, the laws of Christian retribution are the same. Wherever Christ judges men, the sheep go to the right, and the goats to the left. The generous, humane, and disinterested hear always the words, "Come, ye blessed of my Father; inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." The judgment in this world, it may be, is only heard in the depths of the soul. It may be that no other mortal knows of it. Still it is the voice of Christ which speaks. Still it is the real kingdom which they inherit. The judgment in the future life, may be or may not be, before assembled multitudes whom no man can number, and the kingdom then inherited may be one shared with the angels, and extending over worlds. Still the sentence is the same in both cases. The judgment of Christ is one in all worlds. It was, and is, and shall be. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.

It may be said, this is to make the coming of Christ merely figurative—the coming of ideas and principles only; only the coming of his religion; and this is but an invisible abstraction. We reply, that according to our view, Christianity cannot be conceived of as an abstraction, apart from the person of Jesus, nor can his religion come unless he comes with it. Jesus is with us always, in the world always, and none the less really, because invisibly. It is no figure of speech to say that Christ is with his Church, and with his truth; that where it goes, he goes; that when he comes, it comes. It may even be that his presence will not always be an invisible one. It may be that what we now believe, we shall one day see and know. But then those only will recognize their Master's presence who are awake and watching for him. To the others it will seem a mere illusion or enthusiasm.



8. How Christ is, and how he is not, to judge the World.

In some places Jesus says that he is made Judge of mankind, and in other places denies that he is to judge any one. Take, for example, the following passages, selected because they seem to contradict each other. They are all in the Gospel of John, and therefore the contradiction is not in the different limitations or special misconceptions of the different evangelists. The passages are, John 3:17; 9:39; 5:22; 8:15; 12:47. The first is as follows: "For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved." The word here translated "condemn" is precisely the same as that which elsewhere is translated "judge." Consequently we should here read that God sent Christ into the world, not to judge the world, but to save it. But the next text referred to (John 9:39) is one in which Jesus says, "For judgment have I come into the world, that they which see not may see, and that they which see might be made blind." Again (in John 5:22) it is said, that "the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son." But in the following passage (John 8:15) Jesus says, "Ye judge after the flesh. I judge no man." And in the last text he repeats the same idea. "And if any man hear my words and believe not, I judge him not; for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world." We have, therefore, in these passages, this apparent contradiction—that the Saviour seems in some places to declare that he is to judge the world, and in others that he is not to judge the world. We therefore shall do well to inquire how these are to be understood, and in what way at all they are to be reconciled with each other, and with the common Orthodox doctrine concerning judgment.

And here we may remark, in passing, that there are many such seeming contradictions as these in the New Testament, and that to the student of the Gospels, who is a sincere seeker of truth, they are very precious and valuable. Such a one is always glad at finding statements in the New Testament which thus appear opposed to each other; for he knows, by experience, that they are the very passages from which he may learn the most, and where he will be likely to find some hitherto unnoticed truth concerning Christ or his gospel. Such truth, however, will not be found if he attempts to remove the contradiction by any artificial, hasty, or forced process. If his object is merely to find proof-texts in support of the doctrines he already believes, such paradoxes will afford him nothing but barren difficulties, and a sphere for the exercise of sophistry and misplaced ingenuity. But if he can bear to admit his ignorance, and is willing to examine these difficulties in order to correct his own errors, enlarge his own views, and learn something really new, he will often find here the clew to deeper insight and to a larger knowledge.

What, then, is the explanation of these passages? In what way is Christ to judge? How is it that he has come into this world for judgment? and how has the Father committed all judgment unto the Son? and how, nevertheless, can be say, "I judge no man; for I came not to judge the world"?

Christ's coming was simply to do good; to make men better; to save them from their sins; to reveal pardon; to offer salvation; to manifest God's love. "The law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." It is the law, and not the gospel, which judges and condemns the evil-doer. The law given by Moses, or the law given in the conscience, in the reason, in the nature of things, written on the face of nature, written in the soul of man,—this law has not been made more strict by the coming of Christ. Men were bound before, by the law of nature and the law of Moses, to love God with all their heart, and their neighbor as themselves; and they are not bound to do more now. They were bound by nature and reason to obey their conscience, to do the best they could always, and they are not bound to do any more now. The whole influence of the gospel is a bountiful and gracious one, intended and adapted to make it easier to do right, to add new motives to virtue. Christ is no strict, severe judge, deciding by the letter of the law, bound by his office to show no favor or compassion, but the sinner's advocate and friend. And hence it may truly be said that he came not to judge the world, but to save the world.

Nevertheless, it is also true that the greatest blessings and the best gifts of God are also judgments. They test the character. They show what it is. According to the state of mind and heart in which a man is, so does he receive, or reject, or neglect the offered good. If he loves light, he comes to the light. If he loves darkness, he goes away. If his deeds are good, he gratefully receives any revelation which brings him nearer to God. If his deeds are evil, he rejects such revelation, avoids it, dislikes the thought of it. So it necessarily is that the best and kindest of men who wishes only to do good to all, nevertheless, by his very presence and his offers of good, judges and condemns the wicked. But what are the judgment and the sentence? Simply this—that light has come into the world, and that they have chosen darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil. Therefore it was necessarily the case that the coming of Jesus into the world was a judgment, and that though he everywhere went with the purpose of saving and blessing men, yet that he necessarily was also a judge. The thoughts of many hearts were revealed by his presence. The pure in heart came to him in humility, penitence, and faith. The proud in heart, the self-willed, the self-righteous, turned away from him, and so judged themselves unworthy of receiving his truth. The Galilean peasants, the common people, heard him gladly. The Scribes and Pharisees murmured against him and rejected him. This was really a judgment on both: the sheep went to the right hand, and the goats to the left. Thus it is a law of human nature that all high truth by its coming judges men, and shows by its influence upon them what is their real state. And in this way, as Christ's truth was the highest of all, so he was, and is, a judge in the highest sense. But this is not quite all. The coming of such truth not only shows the good and evil which are in men, but it develops them, brings them out, increases the good, increases also the evil. It is necessarily so; it cannot be otherwise. When good comes to us, if it does not make us better, it makes us worse. Truth and goodness are like the magnet. They have two poles. They attract and they repel. Thus it was written that the coming of Jesus would be for the fall or the rising of many. Thus he said, "For judgment I have come into the world, that those which see not may see, and that those who see may be made blind." Peter was made better, Judas was made worse, by being in the company of Christ. His coming was not only judgment, but also reward and punishment. He came to the fishermen of Galilee: they were pure in heart, they were lovers of truth and goodness, and his coming transformed them into apostles, saints, and martyrs. He came to the Scribes and Pharisees: they were not pure in heart. They were proud of their position, their influence, their piety, and his coming transformed them into murderers.

We are now prepared to decide what is meant by Jesus in saying that he came to judge the world, and yet that he came not to judge, but to save. It was not the purpose of his mission to judge. The direct object of his coming was not to judge, but to save; but indirectly, and as a matter of necessity, one of the consequences of his coming was, that men were judged by the word which he spoke, by the truth which he manifested, by the holiness of his life, by the bliss which he offered, and which they rejected. And yet it was true that he did not judge them, and that he did not mean to judge them. They were already judged by their own choice and determination. Therefore he says, "He who believeth not on me is judged already, because he hath not believed on the name of the only begotten Son of God." It was not the will of Christ, but the truth itself, which pronounced the sentence upon him. "The word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him at the last day." And thus it is said, that God is the Judge of all, and yet again, that the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son, and hath given him authority to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of man. The explanation is, that men are judged by the truth. But this truth is not abstract, but the truth embodied in the life and teaching of Jesus. God does not come into the world himself to show men their sins, but he embodies his truth and holiness in the life of his Son, and so judges the world.

In giving this explanation, we have looked steadily at the essential thing in judgment. We have regarded the substance, not the form. If we think of judgment as something outward, the judge seated on his throne, the criminal standing before him, and a formal sentence pronounced, of acquittal or condemnation, we confess that we should find it difficult to reconcile these different passages of Scripture, some of which declare that Christ is to be the judge, and others that he is not to be. But what is the essential thing in judgment? It is that justice shall be done, and that truth and right shall be vindicated; that the good shall be rewarded, and the wicked punished; that virtue and truth shall be seen and recognized in the consciences of men for what they are. This is the essential thing. How this is done, whether in an open tribunal, before the assembled universe, or in the secret places of every man's soul, belongs not to the essence, but to the form, and is comparatively unimportant.



9. When Christ's Judgment takes Place.

Nevertheless, there is a more important question to be answered in relation to the time of judgment. When is the judgment? For it may be thought, from what we have said, that we consider judgment as taking place only in this world. But such is not the fact. Christ's judgments take place at Christ's coming, whether here or hereafter. Whenever Christ comes, he comes to judge. His first coming, in Judea, was a judgment; and he said, "Now is the judgment of the world." His coming judged all those who were near him; revealed the state of their minds and hearts; showed them what they were. Wherever he went, men arranged themselves at once according to their real characters, and the thoughts of many hearts were revealed.

It is true that people at that day did not understand that they were thus condemning themselves. They did not know that the awful judgment of God was being pronounced upon them; that they were standing before his bar in the presence of angels. They did not know that the day of judgment had come, and that they were giving an account of every idle word even then. But so it was. When they scoffed at Jesus and said, "He is a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber," they may have forgotten their words almost before they left their mouths. But there they stand, recorded against them forever—an everlasting proof of their blindness of mind and their hardness of heart. When the penitent woman brought the ointment and anointed the feet of Jesus, and bathed them with her tears, little did she think that it was her day of judgment also, and that the approving sentence of her act would be read by angels in heaven and countless myriads on earth. None of them knew that it was a judgment then; but it was so.

But was that the only judgment? No; for whenever Jesus comes, he comes to judge; and since that, his first coming, he has come again and again to individuals and to the world, and every coming has been a new judgment on the state of the human mind and heart. It has therefore been well said, that the history of the world is the judgment of the world. And it is always true that this judgment is not understood when it is pronounced, but is seen and recognized afterwards. It is so with individuals; it is so with communities. Who is there who, in looking back over his past life, does not witness many an hour in which the truth has come to him, and he refused to admit it, and so sentenced himself to receive a lie? in which he has had opportunities of improvement, opportunities of doing good, and has refused to accept them, and so the talent has been taken from him and given to another. This is the judgment—that light has come into the world, and we have chosen darkness. At the time we did not know it: blinded by prejudice, heated by passion, we rushed recklessly on. But sooner or later comes the calm hour of recollection, and we see ourselves as we are.

But is this judgment which takes place in this world the only one? It is unreasonable to think so. There are, in fact, two extreme views on this subject. The views of those who say that all judgment is in this life, and the views of those who say that no judgment is in this life. The New Testament teaches that we are judged here, and that we are also judged hereafter. The coming of Christ is here, and also hereafter; and the judgment which commenced with his first coming will not be completed till all of us stand before the judgment seat to give an account of the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or evil. "It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment." There is a judgment in this life, and another to come. But those will be best prepared for that future judgment who understand the present judgment. Here is an example of the nature of the judgments which take place in this world.

In the year 1633, an old man was brought before the Court of the Inquisition, consisting of seven cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church, to hear a sentence and to pronounce a recantation. The crime he had committed was the publication of a book in the form of a dialogue, maintaining that the sun stood still, and that the earth moved; which proposition these holy cardinals pronounced to be absurd, false in philosophy, and formally heretical, seeing that it was expressly contrary to Holy Scripture. Whereupon they call upon him to abjure, execrate, and detest these errors and heresies; prohibiting his book and condemning him to confinement, with the penance of reciting once a week, for three years, the seven penitential psalms. And thereupon, this man, Galileo Galilei, of the age of seventy, on his knees, with his hands on the Gospels, abjures his opinion.

These seven cardinals thought that they were pronouncing sentence on Galileo and on the Copernican system. But, in reality, they pronounced sentence on themselves and their own church. They put it upon record forever, that the Roman Catholic Church, claiming to be infallible in matters of faith, had, by its highest judicature, declared the Copernican system a heresy, and thus declared its own claim to infallibility a lie. This was the condemnation—that light had come into the world, and they chose darkness rather than light.

So it is whenever a new truth comes into the world: it attracts the free-minded, the lovers of truth; it repels those bound by interest or passion. Those who believe, with Solomon, that a living dog is better than a dead lion, leave behind them the past, and with open eyes go forward, leaving the dead to bury the dead. Those who change the maxim, and love a dead dog more than a living lion, turn their backs to the east and to the rising sun, and hug their much-loved errors to their hearts. So the truth stands in their midst, awful in its beauty, and judges them—sending away its foes, drawing its friends to its embrace.

But it is not in abstract truth, whether of science or theology, that Christ comes to us now. It is in the truth in its concrete shape, embodied in the reforms which overthrow evil, in the great moral improvements which do away with the sin and woe of the world. Every new cause of this sort parts the sheep from the goats, and causes the thoughts of many hearts to be revealed. We do not mean to assert that all who sympathize with any particular reformatory measures, or any particular reformatory party, are on the side of Christ, and all who disapprove these measures, or this party, are against him. Such an assertion would be the sign of the narrowest bigotry or the most foolish ignorance of human nature. But we mean to say, that when any great human and moral movement comes to rouse men's minds to a great evil—such as the evil of war, slavery, intemperance, licentiousness, popular ignorance, pauperism, infidelity, it is impossible for good men not to take an interest in it, and in their own way to aid it. If men neglect and ridicule such movements, find fault with all that is done, and do nothing themselves, they show thereby that they do not care so much for their brother's happiness as for their own ease and comfort. In this way it becomes true that

"Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, parts the sheep upon the right, And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and the light."

We read in the book of Acts, that after Paul and Barnabas had preached the gospel to the Jews in Antioch, the Gentiles were interested also, and great multitudes came together to hear the word of God. But when the Jews saw the multitudes, they were filled with envy, and contradicted Paul and blasphemed. Then Paul and Barnabas waxed bold, and said, "It was necessary that the word of God should be first preached to you; but since you put it from you, and judge yourselves unworthy of eternal life, lo, we turn to the Gentiles." A hard judgment for a man to pronounce on himself—that he is not worthy of eternal life!

But do we not often all do the same? Christ comes to us in the form of a new truth, which will correct our errors and enlarge our hearts. But loving our own little creed better than the truth, we reject it without examination, and so judge ourselves unworthy of the light, strength, and peace it might bestow. Christ comes again in some opportunity of usefulness to our neighbor. But loving our own selfish ease, we excuse ourselves, and so judge ourselves unworthy of the happiness we should enjoy in doing the kind action. He comes in some deep conviction, calling us to a new life. We feel that we ought to leave our frivolity, and live for God and eternity—live for what is real and permanent. But we stifle these convictions, and go back to our old lives, and so judge that we are not worthy to become the friends and fellow-workers of Jesus, and companions of the pure and good. The great feast is ready, and the invitation is sent to us, and we, with one consent, begin to make excuse. Do we think that in that moment we are standing before the judgment seat of God, and pronouncing sentence on ourselves? It is our own heart that condemns us, and God, and Christ, and the everlasting truth of things must confirm the sentence.



10. Paul's View of the Judgment by Christ.

What were the views of the apostle Paul concerning a future judgment? One of the passages is in Romans. (2:5-16.) In this passage Paul describes a day, or time, when God should judge and bring to light the secrets of the human heart. He refers probably to the coming of Christ, as described in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew. Christ's coming is represented as "that day" the "day of judgment," as, "it shall be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment." It was not, we have seen, as is commonly supposed, only a judgment in the other world after death, but also a judgment in this world. It was not when we should go to Christ in the other world, but when Christ should come to us in this world. It is spoken of as a particular day, or time, and, no doubt, it was thought at first by Paul, as by the other apostles, that the coming of Christ was to be sudden and outward—an imposing visible transaction. But, gradually, Paul's views on this subject changed, under the influence of a growing spiritual insight. At first he interprets literally what Jesus says of his coming. But afterwards, in his later Epistles to the Ephesians and Colossians, he ceases to dwell on the outward coming, and speaks of the inward revelation of Christ in the heart—speaks of our now sitting in heavenly places with Christ. We may, therefore, suppose that the apostle believed the essence of the judgment to be in this—that either in this world or the next, or both, there shall be a revelation of God's truth to the soul, so that every soul shall see itself as God sees it—see its own evil or good, and so be rewarded or punished by that sight. This idea is given by Jesus himself, in his description of the judgment which was to take place before that generation passed away—a judgment in which the Son of man should be seated on the throne of his glory, with all his angels, and all nations be collected before him. The judgment consists in showing to the good, that when they did anything good to man, they did it to Christ and God; and in showing to the bad, that when they refused anything to their poor brethren in want, they refused it to Christ and God. The judgment is therefore making known to each man his own real character. The consequence of that revelation is, that some men immediately go into spiritual happiness, and others into spiritual suffering.

This is the substance of the Christian doctrine of judgment, as taught in the New Testament. All else is accessory, and belongs to the rhetoric—is part of the mise en scene; but there are two points in the views of the apostle concerning judgment, which deserve further notice. The first is in 1 Cor. 6:2, where he says, "Know ye not that the saints shall judge the world?" and (verse 3), "Know ye not that we shall judge angels?" He speaks of this as of something which they already knew, or at any rate could know; something like an axiom, as when he says (verse 9), "Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God?" or (verse 19), "Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit?" This notion is based on the idea of the unity of Christ and his disciples. Christians are joint heirs with Christ. Whatever Christ inherits, they receive and share with him. If he judges the world, and judges angels, they do the same with him, because they share his spirit of insight. Paul thinks the essence of Christianity to be so profound, that even the angels, desiring to look into it, may not have seen it. Therefore Christians, to whose heart God has revealed it by his Spirit, may be able to set the angels right in some matters. But this does away with the notion of a literal day of judgment; for we can hardly imagine Christians to be assembled together and seated on a throne by the side of Christ, in order to judge the world. Some millions of Christians seated on a local throne as judges, with millions of men and angels standing before them, is an impossible picture.

The other point is the passage in 1 Cor. 11:31: "If we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged." Here a principle seems to be laid down—that just so far as we apply God's truth to our own hearts and consciences, we do not need to have it applied by God. And this corresponds with the account of the judgment to which we have before referred, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew. Those who are there called up for judgment, and who stand before the throne, are not Jews or Christians, but Gentiles (τὰ ἔθνη). The holy angels are with Christ in his glory. The heathen appear before him; those who have been doing good without knowing it are received by him into his kingdom, as those who have been blessed by his Father. They are Christians, it appears, without knowing it. They inherit the kingdom, from which the original heirs who have been wicked and slothful servants, and who have buried their talent in the napkin, are excluded. Christians who have judged themselves, and applied Christianity by their own lives, are not to be judged at the coming of Christ, but only those who have been doing right or wrong ignorantly.(45)



11. Final Result.

The course of our investigations in the present chapter has brought us to this result. Orthodoxy is right in expecting the coming of Christ in this world, but wrong in supposing it wholly future and wholly outward. It is right in making it a personal coming, and not merely the coming of his truth apart from him, but wrong in conceiving of this personal coming, as material to the senses, instead of spiritual to the soul. It is right in expecting a judgment, but wrong in placing it only in the other world. It is right in supposing that all mankind, the converted, the unconverted, and the heathen, are to be judged by Christian truth, but wrong in supposing that this judgment must occur in one place or at one time. Finally, in this, as in regard to many other doctrines, Orthodoxy fails by neglecting the great saying of Jesus, "THE SPIRIT QUICKENETH, THE FLESH PROFITETH NOTHING," and the similar statement of Paul, "THE LETTER KILLETH."



CHAPTER XIV. ETERNAL PUNISHMENT, ANNIHILATION, UNIVERSAL RESTORATION.



1. Different Views concerning the Condition of the Impenitent hereafter.

The different views concerning the future state, held by the Christian Church, may be thus classified; arranging them, exhaustively, under eight divisions:—

I. The Roman Catholic Church makes three conditions hereafter; viz.,—

1. Everlasting joy. 2. Everlasting suffering. 3. Temporal sorrow in purgatory.

II. The Orthodox Protestant Church makes two conditions hereafter; viz.,—

1. Unmixed and everlasting joy. 2. Unmixed and everlasting suffering.

III. The Old School Universalists make one condition hereafter; viz.,—

1. Eternal joy.

IV. New School Universalists and Restorationists make two conditions hereafter; viz.,—

1. Eternal joy. 2. Temporal and finite suffering.

V. Unitarians make an indefinite number of conditions hereafter, according to the various characters and moral states of men.

VI. The Swedenborgians make an indefinite but limited number of heavens and hells, suited to the varieties of character, but having a supernatural origin.

VII. The Spiritualists make the other world like this world, with no essential differences, making it a continuation of the natural life.

VIII. The Annihilationists believe that the finally impenitent will perish wholly, and come to nothing.

This statement includes all, or nearly all, of the views held in the Christian Church concerning the condition of departed souls in the other world. We do not propose to examine them all at the present time; but we shall examine at some length three of them.

Eternal punishment, annihilation, and universal restoration are the three principal views taken in the Church of the condition hereafter of those who die impenitent, and in a state of hostility to God. The wicked may hereafter be reformed, may be annihilated, or may be kept in a state of permanent punishment. One of these views is held by the Universalists; another by Orthodoxy; the third is now adopted by those who are dissatisfied with the horrors of Orthodoxy, but not yet ready to accept the Optimism of the Universalist hope. We will consider these, beginning with the Orthodox doctrine of everlasting punishment. We wish we could say that this doctrine was not fully and decidedly Orthodox. But it is quite as much so as the Trinity, the deity of Christ, or the atonement. No one is allowed to have any doubts or questions concerning it. It seems to be believed that the whole system of Orthodoxy would be endangered, if this terror was not held to its bosom with an unfaltering grasp.



2. The Doctrine of Everlasting Punishment, as held by the Orthodox at the Present Time.

What is this doctrine, as it is taught at the present day in all Orthodox churches, and as it stands in all Orthodox creeds? It is, that the moment of death decides, and decides forever, the destiny of man; that those who die impenitent, unbelieving, and unconverted are forever lost, without the possibility of return; that those thus lost are to suffer forever and ever, without end, the most grievous torments in soul and body. These torments consist in banishment from the presence of God, and positive sufferings, in addition thereto, of an awful kind. Precisely what they are, it is not, perhaps, necessary for an Orthodox man to believe. There is no Orthodox definition which is authoritative on that point; and considerable range, therefore, is allowable. The suffering may be that of literal fire, or it may not. It may be physical suffering, or the pangs of conscience, the absence of love, and the sense of emptiness. On these points there is some liberty of opinion, doubtless. But we presume that it would not be Orthodox to admit a preponderance, in hell, of good over evil; or to admit, with Swedenborg, the existence of pleasure there, even though it be only a diabolical and sinful pleasure. The doctrine of Orthodoxy certainly is, that evil predominates over good, and pain over pleasure, in the condition of the damned; so that there existence is a curse, and not a blessing. Especially is hope shut out: there is no hope of return, no possibility of escape, no chance of repentance, even at the end of myriads of years. The man who is condemned to imprisonment for life, in solitary confinement, is in an unfortunate condition; but he has hope,—hope of escape, hope of pardon,—sure hope, at all events, of deliverance, one day, by death, from his condition, and a change to something better, or at least to something different. But, in the Orthodox opinion, there is no such alleviation as this to the sufferings of the future state.

It is usual, we know, for many Orthodox preachers to intensify in description the sufferings of the future state, and to task their imagination for multiplied pictures of horror; and we shall presently give some examples to show how far this is carried. We have no doubt that there are many Orthodox men who are as much shocked by these gross descriptions as those are who deny everlasting punishment. But are they not themselves really responsible for them? Those who admit the principle that God can torment his children forever, in the other life, for sins committed in this, have accepted the principle, from which any view of the Deity, however shocking, may very legitimately proceed.

But let us, for the present, only assume that Orthodoxy asserts a preponderance of evil over good in the other world, and that this preponderance is to be continued without end—forever. Let us see what this means.

It means that the suffering to be endured hereafter by each individual soul, as a punishment for sins committed in this world, will infinitely exceed in amount all the suffering borne on the surface of the earth, by its total population, from the creation of Adam to the destruction of the world. Each lost soul will suffer not only more, but infinitely more, than all the accumulated sufferings of the human race throughout all time. We shudder as we read the account of the sufferings from hydrophobia, or the burning alive of a slave at the South, or the tortures inflicted by the Holy Inquisition, or the horrors of a field of battle, or the cruelties inflicted by savages upon their victims; but all of these, added together, are finite, and the sufferings of a single soul hereafter are infinite. That is to say, all the pain and evil of this world, resulting from all human sin, through all time, is infinitely small and insignificant when compared with the punishment endured by a single soul hereafter for his share of that sin. And all this is inflicted by God; and he is a God of love.

There are some doctrines, the statement of which is their refutation. This, we think, is one of them.

But it must also be considered, that this doctrine, which throws such darkness over the future, also sends down a rayless night over the present. It refutes every theodicy; it nullifies every solution of evil. The consolation for the sufferings of this world is, that the fashion of this world passes away, and that there is a better world to come. The explanation of the evils of this life is, that they are finite, and that they are, therefore, to be swallowed up and to disappear in an infinite good. The Christian finds relief, in considering the sufferings of this world, by regarding them as the means of a greater ultimate joy; by looking forward to the time when all tears shall be wiped away; and by a firm faith that love is stronger than selfishness, good stronger than evil. But the doctrine of eternal punishment gives us, in the condition of a single lost soul, a greater amount of evil hereafter than all the evil, which is to be thus explained, here; and the myriads of lost souls, each of which is to suffer infinitely more than all the sufferings of the present world, present us with a problem, in the future, so appalling, that the problem of present evil, vast as it is, becomes insignificant by its side.

We are tormented with evil here. We seek a solution of the problem: we find it in the limited, finite, and ancillary nature of evil. But that solution is wholly taken away when we are told that evil is infinite and eternal.

It seems to us impossible to hold the common doctrine on this subject, without having the gospel view of the divine character essentially shaken; it is not possible to regard Him as a being in whom love is the essential attribute. If this is so, as we shall presently undertake to prove, it becomes a matter of vital importance that the doctrine should be disproved and rejected. It is not enough that it should be quietly laid aside: it is due to the truth that it should be distinctly and fully confuted. For this doctrine, if it be false, is deeply dishonorable to God: it takes away his highest glory; it substitutes fear of him, in the place of love, in the human heart; it neutralizes the peculiar power of the gospel; it degrades the quality of Christian piety, and poisons religion in its fountain.

The Orthodox doctrine of future punishment is, then, exceedingly simple. There is to be a judgment in the last day, universal and final. All mankind are to be collected before the judgment seat of Christ, and there to be divided into two classes,—one on the right hand, and the other on the left. These are to go upward, to heaven, to be eternally happy; those downward, to hell, to be eternally miserable. There are no degrees of suffering; for the torments of hell are infinite in degree, as well as everlasting in duration. Usually the suffering is made intensively as well as extensively infinite. Sometimes degrees are allowed in suffering. No allowance is made for ignorance, or want of opportunity; for inherited evil, or evil resulting from force of circumstances. The purest and best of men, who does not believe the precise Orthodox theory concerning the Trinity, sits in hell side by side with Zingis Khan, who murdered in cold blood hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, marking his bloody route by pyramids of skulls. The unbaptized child, who goes to hell because of the original sin derived from Adam, is exposed to God's wrath no less than Pope Alexander VI, who outraged every law of God and man, and who, says Machiavelli, "was followed to the tomb by the holy feet of his three dear companions—Luxury, Simony, and Cruelty."(46)

This is the doctrine which every denomination and sect in Christendom, except the Unitarians and Universalists, maintain as essential to Orthodoxy. It is but a year or two since twenty-one bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Church issued a declaration of their belief that this doctrine is maintained, without reserve or qualification, by the Church of England. Only recently an ecclesiastical council of Congregationalists refused the fellowship of the churches to a gentleman elected as its pastor by the Third Congregational Church in Portland, Maine. In the report of the result, the council says that it believes the candidate to be generally sound in his belief, and exemplary in his Christian spirit, and heartily extends to him its Christian sympathy. But it declines to install him as pastor, because it "understands him as saying, that he does not know but there may be another state of probation and offer of salvation, after death, for all to whom Christ is not personally preached; and that, whilst believing in a future retribution, he says that the everlasting punishment of the wicked may be an extinction of the wicked by annihilation." So that a mere doubt on this subject is considered a sufficient reason, by the most advanced and liberal of the whole Orthodox body at the present day, for refusing church fellowship.

The American Tract Society floods the land with loose leaves, all appealing to the fear of an eternal hell. We have one before us now, called "Are you insured?" which represents Christianity as a contrivance for escaping from everlasting torment, as a spiritual insurance office, where one must "take out a policy," and so escape everlasting fire.(47)

There is no theological journal, bearing the Orthodox name, which is more rational and liberal than the "New York Independent." But in its issue of January 5, 1860, it speaks of future endless misery thus, saying that there is a "vast amount and weight of evidence to the point—evidence enough to prove it, if provable; all nature, all law, all revelation uttering the doctrine, so that it is an amazing stretch and energy of unbelief not to believe it, implying a moral state and position that will not believe it on any testimony, however clearly and unqualifiedly, even to the exhaustion of the capabilities of language, God himself may declare and affirm it."

There is evidently an energetic attempt made in some quarters to revive the decaying belief in the doctrine of everlasting punishment in the future state, as a penalty for the sins of this. Dr. Thompson, of New York, has published a work to this end, called "Love and Penalty." Dr. J. P. Thompson, the author of this book, is considered the leader of New Haven theology—the Elisha on whose shoulders the mantle of Dr. Taylor, of New Haven, has fallen. Dr. Nehemiah Adams, of Boston, has labored in the same field, exerting himself to prove this doctrine in various tracts and other works. Professor Hovey, of the Baptist Seminary of Newton, has published a little book on the same subject.

It is probably thought dangerous by these gentlemen to relax at all the terrors of futurity. And, no doubt, if all those who have been restrained from evil by fear of eternal punishment were to lose that belief suddenly, the consequences, at first, would be sometimes bad. If you have exerted your whole force in producing fear of hell, instead of fear of sin, then, the terror of hell being taken away, men might rush at first into license. But the dread of a future hell is by no means so efficacious a motive as is often thought. We become hardened to everything, and neither the clergyman nor his parish eat any less heartily of their Sunday dinner, nor sleep any less soundly on Sunday night, in consequence of the terrible descriptions of eternal torments contained in the morning's sermon.(48)



3. Apparent Contradictions, both in Scripture and Reason, in Regard to this Doctrine.

Beside the practical motive for maintaining this doctrine, which we have intimated, there are also scriptural and philosophical reasons. Scripture and reason both do, in fact, seem to teach opposite doctrines on this subject. There are passages in the New Testament which appear to teach never-ending suffering, and others which appear to teach a final, universal restoration. It is written, "These shall go away into eternal punishment;" but it is also written, that Christ "shall reign till all things are subdued unto him;" when "the Son also himself shall be subject to Him who did put all things under him, that God may be all in all." As the same word is used to express the way in which all enemies are to be subject to Christ, and the way in which Christ himself is to be subject to God, it follows that the enemies, when subjected, shall be friends. It is said that the wicked shall be punished "with everlasting destruction from the presence of God;" but it is also said that "in the dispensation of the fulness of times, God will gather in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and on earth;" and "that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven, in earth, and under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." It is said of the wicked, that "their worm never dies, and their fire is not quenched;" but it is also said that "it pleased the Father, having made peace through the blood of the cross, by Christ to reconcile all things unto himself, whether they be things in earth or things in heaven." So that Scripture, at first sight, seems to teach both eternal punishment and universal restoration.

There is a similar contradiction on this subject, if considered in the light of pure reason. When looked at from the divine attributes, the unavoidable conclusion seems to be, that all men must be finally saved. For God is infinitely benevolent, and therefore must wish to save all; is infinitely wise, and therefore must know how to save all; is infinitely powerful, and therefore must be able to overcome all difficulties in the way of saving all: hence all must be saved. But, on the other hand, when we consider the subject from the position of man's nature, an opposite conclusion seems to follow. For man, being free, is able to choose either evil or good at any moment; and, as long as he continues to be essentially man, he must retain this freedom; and therefore, at any period of his future existence, however remote, he may prefer evil to good—that is, may prefer hell to heaven. But God will not compel him to be good against his will (for unwilling goodness is not goodness); and therefore it follows that there is no point of time in the infinite future of which we can certainly say that then all men will be saved.

Of course these seeming contradictions of Scripture and antinomies of reason are not real contradictions. God does not contradict himself either in revelation or in reason. Whether we can reconcile such antagonisms now, or not, we know that they will be reconciled. Meantime, it is our duty to disbelieve whatever is dishonorable to God, or opposed to the character ascribed to him by Jesus Christ. Christ has taught us to regard God as our Father. It is our duty to refuse credence to any doctrine concerning him which is plainly opposed to this character. If I have formed my opinion of my friend's character from a large experience, I ought to refuse to believe, even on good evidence, anything opposed to it. What is faith in man, or in God, good for, that is unable to resist evil reports concerning them? If I am told that my friend has become a thief or a swindler, and he who tells me says, "I know that it is so—here is the evidence," I reply, "I do not care for your evidence. I know that it is impossible." So, if all the churches in the world, Catholic and Protestant, tell me that Jesus teaches everlasting punishment inflicted by God for the sins of this life, and produce chapter and verse in support of their statement, I reply, "If I have learned anything about God from the teachings of Jesus, it is that your assertion is impossible. About the meaning of these passages you may be mistaken, for the letter killeth; but I cannot be mistaken in regard to the fatherly character of the Almighty."

These contradictions we shall consider in a paper printed in the Appendix (an examination of Dr. Neheimiah Adams's tract on the "Reasonableness of Everlasting Punishment"). At present we will only say that we should hold it less dishonorable to God to deny his existence than to believe this doctrine concerning him. We think that in the last day it will appear that the atheist has done less to dishonor the name of God than those who persistently teach this view. For what says Lord Bacon? (Essays, XVII. Of Superstition.) "It were better to have no opinion of God at all than such an opinion as is unworthy of him; for the one is unbelief, the other is contumely; and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. Plutarch saith well to that purpose. 'Surely,' saith he, 'I had rather a great deal men should say there were no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they should say there was one Plutarch that would eat his children as soon as they were born,' as the poets speak of Saturn. And as the contumely is greater towards God, so is the danger greater towards men."

The doctrine of everlasting punishment, being essentially a heathen and not a Christian doctrine, cannot do any Christian good to any one. It is the want of faith in the Church which makes it afraid of giving it up. The Christian Church has not faith enough to believe in the power of truth and love. It still thinks that men must be frightened into goodness, or driven into it. Fear is a becoming and useful motive no less than hope; but fear of what? Not fear of God; but fear of sin, fear of ourselves, fear of temptation. To be afraid of God never did any one any good. These doctrines drive men away from God; or, if they drive them to God, drive them as slaves, as sycophants, as servants, not as sons. We are saved by becoming the sons of God; but you cannot drive a man into sonship by terror. You may make him profess religion, and go through ceremonies, and have an outward form of service; but you cannot make him love God by means of fear.

But good men teach these things, no doubt. Men far better than most of us believe them and teach them. It always has been so. The best men have always been the chief supporters of bad doctrines. A good man, humble and modest, is apt to shrink from doubting or opposing what the Church has taught. He accepts it, and teaches it too. When God wants a reformer, he does not take one of these good, modest, humble men. He does not take a saint. He takes a man who has ever so much will, a little obstinacy, and a great love of fighting; and he makes the wrath of such a man to serve him.

Neither St. Teresa nor Fenelon could have reformed the Catholic Church. It took rough old Martin Luther and hard-hearted John Calvin to do it. The first Universalists, the Abolitionists, all reformers, are necessarily men of that sort. They are rude debaters, not standing on ceremony or politeness. They are hard-headed logicians, going straight to their point, careless of elegances and proprieties. They are God's pioneers, rough backwoodsmen, hewing their way with the axe through the wilderness. After them shall come the peaceful farmer, with plough and spade, to turn the land into wheat fields, orchards, and gardens.



4. Everlasting Punishment limits the Sovereignty of God.

It is certain that the doctrine of eternal punishment, in the common form, can only be maintained by giving up some of the infinite attributes of the Almighty. If punishment is to exist without end; if hell is always to co-exist with heaven; if certain beings are to be continued forever in existence merely as sinful sufferers,—then, it is clear, God is not omnipotent. He shares his throne forever with Satan. Satan and God divide between them the universe. God reigns in heaven, Satan in hell. God desires that all shall be saved; but this desire is absolutely and forever defeated by a fate greater than Deity. Law divorced from love—that is, nature in its old Pagan aspect—is higher than God. God is not the Almighty to any one who really believes eternal punishment. God is not the Sovereign of the universe, but only of a part of it. The doctrine of eternal punishment, in its common form, does, therefore, virtually dethrone God.(49)

It is, in fact, impossible to conceive of an eternal hell co-existing with an eternal heaven, without also seeing that it limits eternally the divine Omnipotence; for the omnipotence of God is in carrying out his will to have all men saved by becoming holy. Unless God's laws are obeyed, God is not obeyed; and he is not sovereign if not obeyed. Hell is a condition of things hostile to God's will: it is a permanent and successful rebellion of a part of the universe. It is no answer to say, that it is shut up, and restrained, and made to suffer; for it is not conquered. God has conquered sin only when he has reduced it to obedience. Hell is no more subject to God than the Confederate States, during the rebellion, were subject to the United States government. They were shut up by a blockade; they were restrained by great armies and navies; they were made to suffer; but they were not reduced to submission and obedience.

Nor is it any answer to say, that the existence of sin and suffering hereafter no more limits God's omnipotence than their existence here and now limits his omnipotence. For the question is of ETERNAL suffering. Temporal suffering hereafter, we grant, is no objection to the divine Omnipotence. Limited and finite evil, in this world or the other, is no philosophical difficulty; and for this reason—that finite evil, when compared with infinite good, becomes logically and mathematically no evil. The finite disappears in relation to the infinite. All the sufferings and sins of earth, through all ages, are strictly nothing when viewed in the light of the eternal joy and holiness which are to result from them. This is a postulate of pure reason. Make evil finite, and good infinite,—make evil temporal, and good eternal,—and evil ceases to be anything. But make evil eternal, as is done by this doctrine, and then we have Manicheism—an infinite dualism—on the throne of the universe.



5. Everlasting Punishment contradicts the Fatherly Love of God.

This doctrine is a relapse on Paganism, and derived from it. It has nothing to do with Christianity, except to corrupt it. No man was ever made better by believing it: multitudes have been made worse. It attributes to our heavenly Father conduct that, if done by the worst of men, would add a shade of increased wickedness to their character. It assumes that God has made intelligent creatures with the intention of tormenting some of them forever. It assumes that those who are thus created, exposed to this awful risk, are to be thus tormented, unless they happen to pass through what is called an Orthodox conversion in this short earthly life. God keeps them alive forever in order to torture them forever.

The barbarity of this opinion exceeds all power of language to express. We are accustomed to mourn over the anguish and misery that are in this world. The problem of earthly evil has been a burden and anxiety to good men in all times, a great question for thinkers in all ages. The only satisfactory solution is, that it is temporary and educational; that it is to pass away, and, in passing, to create a higher joy and goodness than could otherwise have come. But the doctrine of everlasting punishment not only annuls this explanation, and makes it impossible to explain earthly evil, but adds to it a tenfold greater mystery. The fatherly character of God disappears in Pagan darkness, in view of this horrid doctrine; for the everlasting suffering of one human being contains in itself more evil than the accumulated sufferings of all mankind from the creation of the world to the end of it. Add together all the sicknesses, bereavements, disappointments, of all mankind; all the wars, famines, pestilences, that have tormented humanity; add to these all the mental and moral pangs produced by selfishness and sin in all ages, and all that are to be to the end of time,—and these all combined are logically and mathematically nothing, compared with the sufferings of one human being destined to be everlastingly punished. For all temporal sufferings added together are finite; but this is infinite.

Now, the being who could inflict such torture as this is not the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. There may be some deity of cruelty, some incarnation of wrath and despotism, in the Hindoo Pantheon, capable of such terrific wickedness. It is no answer to say that God inflicts suffering now in this world, and therefore he may inflict everlasting suffering in the other; for those are all finite; that is infinite. Finite suffering may result in greater good, may be an education to good; but everlasting suffering cannot. The finite and infinite cannot be compared together. There is no analogy between them.

The God of the New Testament is our Father. If he inflicts suffering, it is for our good; "not for his pleasure, but for our profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness." All earthly suffering finds this solution, and accords with the fatherly character of God in this point of view. Much, no doubt, cannot be now fully understood. We do not see how it tends to good; but all suffering that ends MAY end in good. Suffering that does not end CANNOT end in good.

If human beings are everlastingly punished, it must either be that they go on sinning forever, and cannot repent, lose all power of repentance, and so cease to be moral agents, or else that they retain the power of repenting, and therefore may repent. In the first case, God continues to punish forever those who have ceased to sin, because their freedom and moral power have ceased; or else he punishes forever those who have repented, and so ceased sinning. In either case, God must punish everlastingly those who have ceased to be sinners; which is incredible.

If God is a Father, he is at least as good as the best earthly father. Now, what father or mother would ever consent to place a child in a situation where there was even a chance of its running such an awful risk? God has created us with these liabilities to sin; he has (according to Orthodoxy) chosen and determined that we shall be born wholly prone to evil, and sure to fall into eternal and unending ruin, unless he saves us by a special act of grace. "What man among you, being a father," would do so? Custom dulls our sense to these horrors. Let us therefore imagine a case far less terrible. Suppose that a number of parents should establish a school, to which to send their children. Suppose they should arrange a code of laws for the school of such a stringent character that all the children are sure to break it. Under the school are vaults containing instruments of torture. For each offence against the laws of the school (offences which the children cannot fail to commit) they are to be punished by imprisonment for life in these cells, with daily torture, from racks, thumb-screws, and the like. A few of them are to be selected from the rest, not for any merit of their own, but by an arbitrary decree of the parents, and are to be rewarded (not for their superior good conduct, but according to the caprice of the parents) with every luxury and privilege. Among these privileges is included that of taking a daily walk through the cells, and witnessing the horrible sufferings of their brothers and companions, and hearing their shrieks of anguish, and praising the JUSTICE of their parents in thus punishing some and rewarding the rest.

But this, you may say, is not a parallel case. No, we grant it is not, for what are these torments to that of a never-ending futurity? They are all as nothing. Therefore every such comparison must utterly fail of doing justice to the diabolic cruelty ascribed to the Almighty by this Orthodox doctrine.

"But what right," says the Orthodox defender of this doctrine, "have we to reason in this way concerning the divine proceedings, by the analogy of earthly parents? What right have we to compare God's doings with those of a human father?" No right, perhaps, as philosophers; but as Christians we have not only the right to do it, but it is our duty to do so. Jesus has himself taught us to use this analogy, in order to acquire confidence in God's ways, and to assure ourselves that God cannot fail of acting as we should expect a good and wise earthly parent to act. "What man is there of you, whom, if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father, which is in heaven, give good things to them that ask him?" (Matt. 7:9-11.) Jesus authorizes and commands us to reason from the parental nature in man to that in God. Instead of simply assuring us of it, on the ground of his own authority to teach us; instead of saying, "Believe this, because I say it," he says, "Believe it, because it accords with your own convictions and with human nature."



6. Attempts to modify and soften the Doctrine of Everlasting Punishment.

The reasons for the late efforts to support this terrific doctrine are probably to be found in a widespread and increasing disbelief concerning it, pervading the churches nominally Orthodox. This has come from the growing intelligence and progressive movements of thought in the Christian Church. The evidences of this belief are numerous and increasing. Those who reject the Orthodox view are a numerous body, but divided into several parties. There are the old-fashioned Universalists, a valiant race,—men of war from their youth,—who, under the lead of such men as Hosea Ballou and Thomas Whittemore, have spent their lives in fighting the doctrine of everlasting punishment. Very naturally, perhaps, they went to the opposite extreme of opinion, and denied all future suffering. But this view has, we think, ceased to be the prevailing one among the Universalists. The doctrine of ultimate restoration has very generally taken its place. This doctrine also prevails widely in other denominations; not only among the liberal bodies, like the Unitarians, but also among Methodists, Presbyterians, and Congregationalists. It has widely spread, as is well known, in Germany. It was held by Schleiermacher, the father of modern German theology. It tinges the writings of such Orthodox men as Tholuck, Hahn, and Olshausen. Others profess to believe in everlasting punishment, but make it a merely negative consequence of lost time and opportunity: one will be always worse off hereafter in consequence of the neglect of duty. Others follow Swedenborg, and make the sufferings of hell rather agreeable than otherwise to those who bear them.

Various ineffectual attempts have indeed been made, in all ages of the Church, to soften the austerity of this doctrine. From the days of Origen, these merciful doctors(50) have always been trying to soften this austere dogma, but ineffectually; for the dread of an eternal hell has been one of the chief motives which the Church has used in converting men from sin to holiness. Any suggestion of the possibility of future restoration would, it is feared, cut the sinews of effective preaching. For the baptized who are not fit for heaven the Roman Catholic Church has established, indeed, a temporary hell, with torments of an inferior sort; for bad Catholics there is purgatory, with the hope of ultimate escape from it; but for the unbaptized heathen, for heretics, and for excommunicated persons, there is nothing but eternal punishment.

Many, in all ages, have made the everlasting continuance of punishment not absolute, but hypothetical—depending on the question, "Will the sinner continue forever to sin?"(51) Others have made future punishment relatively everlasting; that is, because even the repentant sinner will be always just so far behind the position he would have had if he had not sinned. This, however, is taking a material view of progress, as though it was limited, like the going of a horse, to so many miles a day.

Many of the early fathers, and some of the mediaeval doctors, took milder views of the future sufferings of the impenitent or unconverted. Proceeding from the idea of freedom, as indestructible in the human soul, Origen declared that, no matter how low any moral being has fallen, a way to return is always open to him. Even the devil may, in time, regain the highest position in the angelic hierarchy.(52) No doubt Origen admitted the need of external conditions for this restoration; but he said, God is able to heal the damage done to any part of his works.(53) He will restore all things to their origin, uniting the end and the beginning, and so becoming indeed the Alpha and Omega. This may require long processes, through many ages.(54) Since Jesus speaks of a sin which cannot be forgiven in this age (ἀιὼν) nor the next, it follows, says Origen, that there is a series of ages, or worlds, through which we pass, and many of these ages of ages (saecula saeculorum) must pass away before all bad men and angels shall have returned to their original state. Quoting the passage, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed," he says that he shall not be destroyed as to his substance, but as to his enmity. His being was made by God, and cannot perish; his hostile will proceeded from himself, and shall be destroyed.

Mr. Brownson (or rather a writer in Brownson's "Quarterly Review," July, 1863) takes another way of softening the terrors of hell. With him too, hell is an everlasting state; but he maintains that the Roman Church has not made it an article of faith to believe that there is any positive suffering therein. If you believe in an eternal hell, that is enough; you are not precluded from softening its horrors to any extent you can. Thus he maintains that the great Augustine allows hell to be only a negative state—only the absence of the exquisite beatitude of heaven. This writer (who is said by the editor to be a learned Catholic priest) asserts that there is a growing repugnance to the popular doctrine upon eternal punishment among the most intelligent of the Catholic laity, and this reluctance is the chief obstacle to the reception of the faith by a large class of non-Catholics. He attempts to meet this state of mind by showing that neither the doctrine of St. Augustine nor that of the Catholic Church supports this popular view, but allows a much milder one. He proceeds to make these points:—

1. St. Augustine nowhere teaches that human nature is intrinsically evil, but he invariably teaches that it is substantially good. ("Omnis natura in quantum natura est bona est." "Omnis substantia aut Deus est aut ex Deo." De Lib. Arbit.) Therefore it follows that the very notion of total depravity is impossible. St. Augustine distinctly says that "the very unclean spirit himself is good, inasmuch as he is a spirit, but evil inasmuch as he is unclean." Hence, not even the nature of the devil himself is evil. So St. Thomas ("Diabolus, in quantum habet esse, est bonus"), "the devil, so far as he is, is good."