Routledge Library Editions: Christianity, 15-Volume Set 9780367623074, 9781003108795, 9780367623111, 9780367631543, 9781003108818

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ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 1

CHRISTIANITY AMONG THE RELIGIONS

CHRISTIANITY AMONG THE RELIGIONS

E. L. ALLEN

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1960 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1960 George Allen & Unwin Ltd. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

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Christianity Among the Religions by

E. L. ALLEN

Uno itinere non potest pervenire ad tarn grande secretum

Ruskin House GEORGE ALLEN & U N W I N LTD MUSEUM STREET LONDON

FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1960 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act 1956 no portion may be reproduced without written permission. Enquiries should be addressed to the publishers. © George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1960

Printed in Great Britain in 12 on i$-pt Bembo type at the University Press Aberdeen

PREFACE The title of this book should be sufficient explanation of its purpose. Throughout the writing of it, I have been conscious of the debt I owe to the men and women of other lands and other faiths who have honoured me with their friendship. E. L. ALLEN Arana Hall Dunedin New Zealand

CONTENTS PREFACE

page 7

1. Truth and Error

n

2. A Vision of Unity

25

3. The Impact of China

33

4. Rationalism and Romanticism

49

5. The Way of the Absolute

64

6. Counter-attack from the East

71

7. T/*e TVn o/^e Century

83

8. Philosophy in East and West

94

9. Christianity and Indian Religions

107

10. Criticism

117

11. Towards a Conclusion

134

12. Communication

145

INDEX

157

I

Truth and Error a. MISSION TO ISLAM

IT was in the thirteenth century that Western Christendom began to be shaken in the conviction that it possessed the absolute truth. The Church that had converted pagans, excommunicated heretics, and excluded the Jew from the common life, now found herself face to face with Islam. That enigmatic monarch Frederick II entered Jerusalem by treaty with the Sultan of Cairo and in defiance of the Pope, and the dwindling Christian principalities of Palestine took advantage of a truce with the enemy to turn against each other. Islam, it became clear, was not to be dispossessed by force of arms. The Cross and the Crescent must find some less futile and less bloody way of settling their differences. Nor was that all. For Islam had gone over to the counter-attack in the person of her philosophers. Under the patronage of the Abbasid caliphs in Baghdad, Greek medical, astronomical, and philosophical texts were translated into Arabic and commented on in the same language. Thanks to the Moslem conquest of Spain, this rich culture was carried to the gates of Western Europe. As Christian armies marched south to recover the peninsula, the new knowledge crossed the frontier in the opposite direction. All this is part of the history of European culture. With it a new possibility emerged. There were intermediaries available who could assist in giving Averroes a Latin dress. Might not one of them be employed in rendering the same service to the Koran? Yes, if a Christian were found who wished to read it. Peter the Venerable was such a one, and in 1141 while in Spain on a tour ii

Christianity Among the Religions of inspection he took the decisive step of commissioning a Latin version of the Koran. He was perhaps the first to see that it was vain to combat Islam with the sword while remaining ignorant of what it stood for. His purpose was a missionary one, and he knew that to make converts from a religion one must first study it. The Christians who undertook the task included one Robertus Retensis (of Reading?), an Englishman, but they were assisted by a Saracen of the same name as the Prophet. Robert's rendering continued in use throughout the medieval period and we shall see that it was drawn upon in particular by Nicolas of Cuas.1 So the missionary and not the soldier was now to be the champion of the faith. This was the bold new idea and the first Pope to espouse it was Gregory IX, though he did not for all that abandon hope that the crusading spirit might be renewed. He gave his support to the mendicant orders as they threw themselves into the enterprise. Of St Francis we know that he twice suffered disappointment before he set foot on the Holy Land. He was in Syria for more than a year (1219-1220), during which time he paid a visit to Egypt and found the crusaders there no less in need of his ministrations than the Saracens. We are told of an interview with the Sultan of Egypt, one version of which makes the latter ask for a sign that would enable him to decide between the rival religions. Another account represents the saint as offering himself to pass through fire if 'the priests of Mahomet' will do the same.2 Franciscans and Dominicans worked in North Africa and the Near East, sometimes meeting with martyrdom as the reward of their zeal. But the missionary needs to know the language of those to whom he goes. So in 1250 the provincial chapter of Toledo sent eight Dominicans to Tunis to study Arabic. One of them was to become famous as linguist and writer. He was Ramon Martin, whose Pugio Fidei was a handbook for use in 1

On this subject see Ugo Monneret de Villard, Lo Studio dell*Islam in Europa nel XII e ml XIII Secolo, 1944. 2 Paul Sabatier, Vie de S. Francois fAssisse, 1920, ch. XIV. 12

Truth and Error missions to Jews as well as to Moslems.1 Another Dominican is important for his influence on Lull. He was Ramon de Pennyafort, a Catalan by birth; he claimed to have baptized two thousand converts from Islam. It was at his instigation that Lull devoted himself to the study of Arabic, purchasing a Moorish slave to act as teacher. Largely as the result of Lull's tireless advocacy, the Council of Vienne in 1311 resolved upon the establishment of colleges for the study of Oriental languages. These were to be located at Bologna, Oxford, Salamanca, and the place of residence of the Roman court—it was necessary to be vague on that last point! Provision was to be made for their maintenance. Alas, there is no evidence that the project got beyond good intentions. By such measures as these the stage was being set for a new kind of encounter with Islam, one based on knowledge to some extent. There was need for this, too, as one can see from a glance at some of the great preposterous opinions of Mohammed and his religion that were current at the time. Perhaps it is not surprising that Mohammed was thought of as a heretic and schismatic. In the seventh century John of Damascus, who had firsthand contact with Islam, included Mohammed in his catalogue of Christian heretics. He founded the 'Saracen* sect on the strength of a cursory acquaintance with the Scriptures and information given by an Arian monk. One story made him a priest, if not actually a cardinal! Islam was generally reputed to be an idolatrous religion with an image of Mohammed as its cult-object. Some who claimed to have visited Palestine as pilgrims declared that an image of the kind was to be seen in the Mosque of Omar. And has not the medieval morality-play given us the word 'termagant*, used originally for a Moslem idol, the product of Christian ignorance and fear? 2 1

On Ramon Martin see The Legacy of Islam, 1931, pp. 272 f. For the acount of Mohammed current at the Papal Court see Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora (Rolls Series), iii. 343 ff. For the popular view see Dorothy Savers' translation of The Song of Roland. 2

13

Christianity Among the Religions b. R A M O N LULL

The most notable of the seventeenth-century missionaries was Ramon Lull. The words in which he expressed the ideal that governed his earlier years have often been quoted and are indeed memorable: Many knights do I see who go to the Holy Land thinking to conquer it by force of arms. But, when I look at the end thereof, all of them are spent without attaining that which they desire. Wherefore, it appears to me, O Lord, that the conquest of that sacred land will not be achieved . . . save by love and prayer and the shedding of tears as well as blood. . . . Let the knights become religious, let them be adorned with the sign of the Cross and filled with the grace of the Holy Spirit, and let them go among the infidels to preach truth concerning thy Passion.1

What is less well known is that he later abandoned this ideal. In preparation for the Council of Vienne he made up his mind 'to propose three things for the honour and reverence and increase of the holy Catholic faith'. The first was study of the Oriental languages, the second, that of all Christian knights there should be made a certain order, which should strive continually for the conquest of the Holy Land.2 With the third we shall be concerned in a later section. Was the change of front occasioned by the ill-success of his missionary labours? Though he wrote much, he visited North Africa only three times, and in each case his stay was a brief one. It is not surprising that his method at Bugia brought him to prison. For he stood in the market-place and cried: 'The law of the Christians is holy and true, and the sect of the Moslems is false and wrong, and this I am prepared to prove.'3 He did not doubt that he himself was in possession of the truth and that those to *E. Allison Peers, Ramon Lull London: S.P.C.K., 1929, pp. 30 £ 3 Ibid. p. 351. Ibid. p. 325.

2

14

Truth and Error whom he went were wilfully in error. He had complete confidence in his ability to demonstrate the truth of the Trinity and the Incarnation. Did he not actually invent a sort of logical machine, in which the subjects and predicates of theological propositions were arranged in circles, squares, triangles, and other geometrical figures, so that by moving a lever, turning a crank, or causing a wheel to revolve, the propositions would arrange themselves in affirmation or negation, and thus prove themselves to be true?1

Apparently, therefore, Lull accepted the current view that Christianity and Islam were related simply as truth and error. But this was not quite the case. As a student of Islam, he could not but be aware that it had much in common with his own faith. So, in the Book of the Gentile, he introduces us to a Saracen who is called upon to state what he believes. Before speaking, he performs the prescribed lustrations, of which a detailed account is given, recites the opening sura of the Koran, and then gives a statement of his creed that shows how accurate was Lull's information. In the main body of the book, three sages, a Jew, a Christian, and a Saracen are about to begin a discourse that has the unity of religion as its aim, when they are accosted by a heathen philosopher. He tells them that he sees death approaching and fears it may be the end. Can they not convince him of God and the resurrection? Since the three religions are united on these points, they are able to satisfy him. But when he asks why so little is done for those who share his ignorance, he learns how deeply his new acquaintances are divided. Each is convinced that his own religion is the one true faith and that eternal torment awaits those who profess one of the others. He begs therefore that each will state his case, so that he may choose between them. They speak in order of age, the Jew first, the Christian next, the Saracen last. So fairly is Islam represented that there is even a warning against supposing that its Paradise is a place of sensual delights merely. The philosopher appears to incline towards the 1

Catholic Encyclopaedia, xii. 670. 15

Christianity Among the Religions Christian position, but he leaves without committing himself. The sages are impressed with the Gentile's concern for truth and vow to seek it as earnestly, by friendly discussion among themselves. What is remarkable is the objectivity of the whole treatment. Was Lull so confident of the Christian case that he could afford to be scrupulously fair to Judaism and Islam? Or was he merely reproducing the method of a medieval disputation? One explanation is clearly ruled out. His attitude was not one of indifference. I have spoken of the effect on Lull of his study of Islam. Perhaps even more important was the effect of contact with Islam in the person of its followers. Like some in our own day, he contrasted the fervour of Moslem piety with the lukewarmness of so many Christians. Thus, The Book of the Lover and the Beloved, an appendix to the allegorical novel Blanquerna but a spiritual classic in its own right, is introduced with a reference to the Sufis who 'have words of love and brief examples which give to men great devotion*. At a later point in the book he writes: The Lover reproached Christian people, because in their letters they put not first the name of his Beloved, Jesus Christ, to do him the same honour that the Saracens do Mahomet, who was a knave and no true man, when they honour him by naming him in their letters first ofall.1

Nor was Lull content merely to admire this aspect of Islam. He paid it the compliment of imitation. He composed The Hundred Names of God as a devotional collection to be used in churches, thus exceeding by one the divine attributes on which the devout Moslem is wont to meditate. C. THE KORAN REFUTED

The career of Lull, as we have seen, shows how the condemnation of Islam as a false religion could be maintained even while it 1

Peers, op. at. p. 434. 16

Truth and Error was in fact qualified by the recognition, in the first place, of certain elements of truth within it, and, in the second, of a genuine spirituality in the life it inspired. As a further illustration of this I propose to take another of these thirteenth-century missionaries, the Dominican Ricoldo da Monte di Croce.1 Ricoldo was the first European to give a precise account of conditions in Baghdad, the first also to derive his knowledge of Islam from Oriental sources and not merely from Moorish or Syrian. Setting out in 1288 on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, he pushed on to Baghdad, where he enrolled as a student and was granted every facility for study. It is possible that he made a fresh translation of the Koran, but if so, it is lost to us. He left behind him two books, Liber Peregrinacionis* an account of his travels and his first-hand contacts with Islam, and Confutatio Alcorani* a systematic attempt to come to grips with its teaching. The latter received the compliment of a translation into German by Luther.4 In the Confutatio Alcorani Ricoldo repeats the usual slanders against the Prophet. He depicts Mohammed as a robber chieftain, as unscrupulous as he was cowardly and unsuccessful. He fixes on epilepsy as an important factor in his claim to inspiration. His appearance as a prophet was the work of Satan, incensed by Heraclius's recovery of the Cross from the Persians.5 The choice of an agent was determined by Mohammed's evil qualities. No 1

1 follow the Catholic Encyclopaedia for the spelling of his name. Published in J. C. M. Laurent, Peregrinationes Medii Aevi Quattuor, 1873. See on this Ugo Monnercrt de Villard, II Libro della Peregrinazione nella Parti d'Oriente de Fratre Ricoldo da Montecroce, 1948. 3 1 have not been able to find a copy of this book that is not the translation of a translation. The Byzantine theologian Demetrius Cydonius rendered it into Greek when the Eastern Empire was menaced by Islam, and in 1506 this was translated back into Latin by the Italian Bartolomeo of Monte Arduo. 4 Made in 1542 from Bartolomeo's Latin. Under the tide Verlegung Alcorans Bruder Richardi it appears in vol. liii of the Weimar edition. The Latin text used by Luther is reproduced there, and footnotes indicate where it departs from the original. See Sweetman, Islam and Christian Theology, London: Lutterworth Press, 1945-48, ii/i. 116. 6 Which, in fact, fell towards the close of the Prophet's life! 2

B

17

Christianity Among the Religions doubt, the devil would have preferred someone better, as more fitted to deceive. But the divine wisdom would not permit this, wanting it to be obvious to all what was taking place and how worthless the new religion was! Ricoldo can even say that Mohammed allowed his followers to indulge in unnatural vice. At one point he declares that 'what the Alcoran and the whole sect of Saracens have in mind is just this, that supreme blessedness lies in lust and gluttony'.1 It is not surprising, therefore, that he recommended polemics rather than understanding to the would-be missionaries for whom the book was written. It is easier and therefore wiser to work by exposing the folly of Islam than by demonstrating the truth of the Gospel. As a traveller in the Near East, however, Ricoldo had not failed to be impressed by the part that religion played in the life of the ordinary man, and the Liber Peregrinadonis, being written for the general public, presents a much more favourable view. He ascribes to Moslems numerous 'works of perfection', such as enthusiasm for study, devotion in prayer, charity towards the poor, reverence for the name of God, dignity in bearing, courtesy towards strangers, concord and love among themselves. He is struck by the number of students in Baghdad and the public provision for their maintenance. He notes how unfailingly his companions in travel observed the hours of prayer. The songs of the Saracens are hymns of praise and their conversation is marred neither by slander nor by gossip. The moral of it all is clear. If these lost souls will do so much for their law of death', why do we do so little for our 'law of life'? For even after these admissions Ricoldo sees the issue as one of truth versus error. The Saracen law, we are told in the concluding sections, is lax, obscure, confused, and irrational. And he concludes with the pious hope that all who believe in so preposterous a religion will end in the flames of hell [ 1

Luther, op. cit. Jiii. 317.

18

Truth and Error d. AVERROES AND AQUINAS

I spoke earlier of the three-point programme prepared by Lull for the Council of Vienne. The time has now come to deal with the second of these points, which was that in opposition to the opinion of Averroes, who in many things has endeavoured to oppose the Catholic faith, men of learning should compose works refuting these errors aforementioned and all those that hold the same opinion.1

But if to Lull Averroes (Ibn Raschid) was an enemy to be opposed, he none the less represented an opportunity to be seized. The time was ripe for a mission to the Moslem world precisely because its religion was being undermined from within by the philosophers. Modern study of Averroes tends to acquit him of some of the major innovations of thought for which he has long been held responsible. Thus he did not, it would seem, teach the dangerous doctrine of a 'double truth', that what is true in theology may be false in philosophy, and vice versa. But he did recognize two formulations of truth, a supernatural revelation in the Koran and a natural theology in Aristotle, the former for the masses and the latter for the few who could appreciate it.2 There was a curious ambivalence in the attitude of thirteenth century Christendom to him. He was at once revered as an interpreter of Aristotle and detested as a source of pestilential heresies. Histories of philosophy tell of the acute controversies that followed on the publication of his writings in a Latin translation, and of the episcopal and Papal decisions that led to their condemnation. By the third quarter of the century, indeed, Averroes had become a symbol, a banner to which the freethinkers of the time rallied. And there were many such. One item in what may be called the Averroes-legend is that which sent his sons to Sicily, to find a place at the court of Frederick II. This prince made no secret of his preference for 1

Peers, op. cit. p. 351.

2

19

The Legacy of Islam, pp. 275 ff.

Christianity Among the Religions Saracens, encouraged Arabic studies, and surrounded himself with sceptics and unbelievers. It was in such a circle that men began to speak of Christianity as one of three rival religions and to compare it unfavourably with Judaism and Islam. Rumour even told of a book De Tribus Impostoribus in which Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed in turn were held up to ridicule. No one, to be sure, had actually seen the book, but there were those who, so they affirmed, had met those who had seen it. No one doubted its existence or its blasphemous character. Who then was the author? Was it perhaps Averroes himself? Thus, as Renan puts it, the thirteenth century conceived the idea of a comparison between religions. A few advanced thinkers could no longer class Christianity as the true faith and the rest as false. Some went on to hint that perhaps all were false. If so, then it might well be that Christianity, precisely because it claims to be alone true, is inferior to the others, which at least allow a relative value to their rivals. And Islam and Judaism, it was whispered, shared one outstanding advantage. Neither had a Pope! Averroes, so the legend ran, had put this brutally: Christianity is impossible, Judaism is for children, and Islam is for pigs.1 Another version had it that he professed each religion in turn and ended without any. He was a mad dog, barking incessantly against Christ and the Christian faith.2 In this Averroes-legend Thomas Aquinas figures as the knight of faith, the St George who slays the philosopher-dragon.3 We are told on what seems to be good authority that his Summa Contra Gentiles was written at the request of Ramon Pennyafort as a textbook of apologetics and missionary theology for use within the Dominican order. But allusions to Islam are few and far between and there are no indications that Aquinas took the trouble to acquit himself with its doctrines, except at hearsay. The passage in which he gives his estimate of Mohammed is too long to quote here and it has nothing of value to offer.4 We are told that he 1

Renan, Averroes et rAverroisme, 1866, p. 297. 3 Ibid. p. 299. Ibid. pp. 301 ff. for this theme in Italian art. 4 Op. cit. Dominican trans., i. 13.

2

20

Truth and Error enticed peoples with the promise of carnal pleasures, to the desires of which the concupiscence of the flesh instigates. He also delivered commandments in keeping with his promises, by giving the reins to carnal pleasure, wherein it is easy for carnal men to obey: and the lessons of truth which he inculcated were only such as can be easily known to any man of average wisdom by his natural powers. As Chenu points out, the traditional view of the origin of the Contra Gentiles, if accepted simpliciter, raises more problems than it solves. We must therefore suppose that, whatever the audience Aquinas was instructed to address, the one he actually had in mind was that of the University of Paris. 'He has in view and seeks to refute the theses of the Averroism then current in Paris.'1 Yet modern scholarship, if it does not see Averroes as the dragon, is equally reluctant to cast Aquinas for the role of St George. We are told, for example, that 'coincidences between the theology of St Thomas and Averroes are extremely numerous' and that there must indeed be 'something firmer than coincidence' here. One is left wondering how this is to be reconciled with the assertion, made in the same quarters, that the Latin translations of Averroes sadly misrepresented him. But, whatever the explanation, the fact that we must recognize 'the presence of doctrines of Islam in the very citadel of Western Christianity, the Summa of Aquinas', is germane to our study. It is one more piece of evidence that the simple judgment truth versus error cannot in fact be maintained.2 e. AMONG THE MONGOLS

One of the most enterprising missionaries of the period was the Franciscan, William Rubruck, who entered the Mongol Empire and spent some time at the court of the Great Khan. He had been preceded in 1245 by John of Piano Carpini, sent by Pope Innocent IV thither to ward off the menace to Western Europe now that 1 2

Introduction a fttude de Saint Thomas d'Aquin, 1950, p. 250. The Legacy of Islam, pp. 279, 281. 21

Christianity Among the Religions Russia had been overrun and annexed; an embassy had also been sent by St Louis of France. These missions had been political in character, while William's was purely religious. He came to a people who were among the great powers of their day; he expected too, that they would be prepared to listen to his message. For Christianity in its Nestorian form had long been established in Central Asia. Indeed adherents of it were to be found at the court and at times even in the royal family. In February 1258 a Mongol army sacked Baghdad and put an end to the Abbasid caliphate; two years later, a second army, led by a Christian general and allied with two Christian kings, captured Aleppo and Damascus. Brother William was among the Mongols from 1253 to 1255 so that he could scarcely have arrived at a more favourable moment. Mango Khan, to whose court he came, was an idolater, but there was Moslems as well as Christians among his entourage. The Buddhists whom he also met were lamas such as are to be found in Tibet to this day. Through the indigenous Bon religion * that preceded it, Lamaism had absorbed elements from various sources, including Manichaeism, and William makes express mention of this. The 'idolatrous priests', as he calls them, shaved their heads, took a vow of chastity, and lived a communal life. They recited in their temples what were obviously Buddhist scriptures, and used rosaries, repeating as they told their beads the sacred formula Om tnani padi hum ('Greeting to the jewel in the lotus'), which is clearly discernible in William's On man baccam. He took this to be a prayer, and we are not surprised to find that in a conversation conducted through an interpreter he reached strange results. He understood them at one point to say that they believed in one God who is spirit and at another to jeer at him 1

'Essentially a shamanist, devil-channing, necromantic cult with devildancing, allied to the Taoism of China.' ERE, xii. 333. 'The struggle between the two demiurges of good and evil is fundamental to the Bon conception of the universe. Their theology is thus definitely derived from Iranian and Manichaean sources.' Fosco Mariani, Secret Tibet, London: Hutchinson & Co., 1952, p. 166. 22

Truth and Error when he in turn spoke of God and the soul. This was not the last occasion on which Buddhist and Christian found it difficult to understand each other, because the language they employed was pre-emptied for the expression of Buddhist ideas. Not to mention the additional complication introduced by an interpreter who was 'tired and unable to express the words'. What must surely have been the first inter-religious conference in history, took place at Pentecost of 1254, and a panel of three judges, one from each religion, was appointed by the Khan to preside over the debate. The Nestorians asked William to represent the Christian cause, and he discussed with the lamas the unity and omnipotence of God and his relation to evil. When he declared that 'all things that are, are good', their Manichaeism was roused in protest. They 'were astonished at this saying and put it down in writing as something untrue and impossible'.1 When they were forced to admit that, on their premisses, there could be no omnipotent God, the Moslems joined in the laughter of the Christians. At this point the Nestorians intervened and proposed to argue with the Moslems, but the latter declined, actually assuring the Christians that 'in all their prayers they beseech God to grant that they may die a Christian death'. One suspects that this was the interpreter's way of cutting the discussion short. Those who convene similar gatherings today might care to know how this one concluded. When this was finished, the Nestorians and Saracens alike sang loudly while the tuins kept silence, and afterwards they all drank their fill.2 On his return William sent a report of his travels to St Louis and, after staying some time at Acre, made his way to Paris, where he met Roger Bacon, who was not a little intrigued to bear of this conference. In his Opus Maius Bacon tells of his 1

The Mongol Mission, ed. Christopher Dawson, London: Sheed & Ward, 2 1955, p. 193Ibid. p. 19423

Christianity Among the Religions meeting with the intrepid Franciscan. What William related of his travels helped him in his classification of religions under six heads: (i) Pagans, i.e. worshippers of natural phenomena; (2) Idolaters, worshippers of manufactured images; (3) Tartars, who cultivated philosophy and magic arts; (4) Saracens; (5) Jews; (6) Christians. Pagans and idolaters are obviously in error, and Bacon understands the Tartars to have admitted defeat at the conference. What he has to say of the Jews does not concern us, and he has little to add to what his predecessors urged against Islam. While various Christian doctrines were adumbrated by the philosophers, this is not the case with Islam, whose philosophers are openly critical of their religion. Indeed he makes them give it only another generation to live. The points at which Christianity is found superior are miracles, fulfilment of prophecy, and sexual restraint by virginity and in marriage as opposed to the license permitted and practised by Mohammed. In addition, the virgin birth of Jesus, admitted by the Koran, ranks him higher than Mohammed.1 1

Opus Mains, cd. J. H. Bridges, 1897, ii. 367 ff.

24

II

A Vision of Unity a. NICOLAS OF CUSA

THE thirteenth century ended with the triumph of Islam and the extinction of the tiny Christian kingdoms of Palestine. Before the following century was halfway through, a Moslem army had set foot on European soil in the East, and that at the invitation of a Christian. A few years later, an Ottoman garrison at Gallipoli was evidence enough that the Byzantine Empire, long since shorn of its Asiatic provinces, was now threatened in its very capital. The one hope of deliverance lay in an appeal to Western Christendom. To effect this, there must first be a reconciliation with the Roman Church. The Council of Basel took the initiative and invited the Emperor, John Paleologus, to come in person to conduct negotiations. An escort was sent to Constantinople in 1437 and one of its members was Nicoks of Cusa. This expedition brought him into indirect contact with Islam. His reaction to it marks a distinct advance upon that of his predecessors. He endeavoured to refute it, of course, and he could be as harsh in his judgments on the Prophet as anyone before him. But the title he gave to his polemic work, Cribratio Alcorani, is indicative of a new spirit. He wants to sift the book, to separate the true in it from the false. Indeed, he actually extended the range of his interest so far as to include Judaism and the pagan cults, along with Islam, as so many types of religion that could in some sense be set alongside Christianity. He first in Christendom envisaged the possibility of mutual understanding on the part of the various faiths, and in De Pace Fidei he argued 25

Christianity Among the Religions for this. If we ask how such an outlook, impossible in others, was actual in Nicolas, the answer is that a passion for unity, both theoretical and practical, was one of his characteristics. Thus, he was one of the envoys appointed at Basel to negotiate with the Hussite leaders, and the agreement of 1433 was largely his work. But it is the dating of the amazingly irenical De Pace Fidei that is so remarkable. It was written in the very year in which Constantinople fell to Islam (May 29, 1453). The alternative to crusades was not now missions, it was the harmony of religions. To be sure, Constantinople was not yet abandoned as lost, and there was talk in the West of an expedition to recover it. Nicolas made his contribution to the proposed counter-attack with the book Cribratio Alcorani, written probably in 1461 or late in I460.1 It is dedicated to Pius II, for his use in the refutation and condemnation of Moslem errors. In our discussion of the two books, it will be more convenient to begin with the one that was published later. b. MOHAMMED AS WITNESS TO CHRIST

Anything like a systematic account of the contents of the Cribratio would need to be preceded by an outline of Nicolas's philosophy, since this is operative throughout. I shall only touch on this where it proves absolutely necessary; my concern is with the attempt to present Mohammed as a witness to Christ, since this is a new approach to the Koran. Not that Nicolas does not parade the old slanders and indulge in the old polemic. He is never sure whether to execrate Mohammed as the enemy of Christ or to acclaim him as a witness to him. Our concern is solely with the second presentation. Nicolas states at the outset what his purpose is. He proposes to sift the Koran and to show that it contains much that would confirm the Gospel, did this need confirmation; also that where it departs from the Gospel it does so as a result of Mohammed's 1

Sichtung des Alcorans, ed. Paul Naumann, 1948, p. 13. 26

A Vision of Unity ignorance and therefore of his evil intent.1 He actually hazards the suggestion that, in spite of Nestorian and Jewish influence, Mohammed himself revered Christ as Son of God and believed in his death for the salvation of mankind. But he thought it inexpedient to express himself clearly. Perhaps he adopted a policy of accommodation as Jesus did in his parables, veiling the truth so that only those able to appreciate it would be in a position to receive it. Of one thing he is sure, and that is that such truth as the Koran possesses has been borrowed from the Gospel. If therefore any beauty, truth, and light are found in the Koran, it must be that this is a ray from that Gospel which is the fulness of light. And he who reads first the Gospel and then the Koran will see that this is so.2

In accordance with a tradition at least as early as John of Damascus, Mohammed is presented as a Christian heretic.3 An expelled monk, Sergius by name, went to Mecca, where he preached his Nestorian version of Christianity to Jews and idolaters. Mohammed was converted by him and actually died a Christian. Before then, however, three crafty Jews had been at work upon him to turn him from the faith, and at his death, on which followed a general return to idolatry, they exploited his name for anti-Christian purposes. That is to say, they persuaded Mohammed's son-in-law Ali to come forward as a prophet and the successor of Mohammed, who now was made out to have been himself a prophet. Ali handed over to these Jews the writings his father-in-law had left behind him, and by a process of addition and subtraction they quite altered their character. They now became the documents of a new sect in which—contrary to Mohammed's own attitude—Jews were equally esteemed with 1 Sichtung des Alcorans, ed. Paul Naumann, 1948, p. 83: De Nicolai de Cusa Cardinalis Opera, Basel, 1565, p. 881. Some chapters of the Cribratio are translated into French by Maurice de Gandillac in Oeuvres Choisis de Nicolas de Cusa. See Sweetman, op cit. ii/i. 159 f. 2 Ibid. p. 105; ibid. p. 888. 3 Migne: Patrologia Graecat adv. 678 ff.

2J

Christianity Among the Religions Christians. On this view, what is true in the Koran is of Christian origin, though not orthodox, while what is false is the perverse work of Jewish intriguers. There is even evidence, Nicolas thinks, that Mohammed knew the full truth about Christ though he did not proclaim it openly. Here the Latin translation he uses has led him astray. Where in the original Jesus is described as 'illustrious in this world and the next' (iii. 40), the Latin has fades omnium gentium, prototype of all peoples. Naturally enough, Nicolas cites this passage again and again. Further, the Koran speaks of Christ as the Word of God but will not allow that God has a Son. But the difference here, Nicolas suggests, may be one of language only. God does not 'have* a Son, as he does not 'have' anything whatsoever. With him, having and being are one, yet we may not say that the Father 'is' the Son. Perhaps Mohammed shrank from speaking of Christ as Son because this would be misunderstood by idolaters, who would infer either a plurality of gods or a physical sonship rather than an intellectual one. The same subtlety enables Nicolas to find an affirmation of the death and resurrection of Christ even in those passages that explicitly deny these. What could be made of the plain assertion in the Koran that Jesus did not die, but that another was crucified in his place? The least satisfactory expedient is to say that the Koran does not deny that Jesus was crucified, but only that the Jews crucified him. As to be sure they did not. The Romans did! Another suggestion is that Mohammed thought death out of place with such an one as Christ. He could not grasp the mystery of a death by which a cross became a throne. As for the resurrection—there the argument becomes even more involved and even less convincing. We are left wondering why Nicolas is at such pains to demonstrate that the Koran does not mean what it says. This is one of those points at which the polemic tendency yields to the irenic. The final conclusion of the book is that Mohammed knew who Jesus was and what happened to him, but knew also that the ignorant and uncultured Arabs of his day would not listen to 28

A Vision of Unity such a message. He could not have convinced them of Christ's death and resurrection without acknowledging his divinity, and this, so far as he could see, was not consistent with the unity of God. He therefore simplified his preaching till it was well within their understanding, presenting Christ for the time being as the greatest of prophets and of men. Therefore Mohammed concealed from them the mysteries of the Gospel, to the intent that they should one day be revealed to the wise, just as the Gospel at first remained obscure to many and was not understood, but only gradually became more and more manifest.1

Almost all this reasoning is forced and much of it is based on crass misunderstanding of the text. But all honour is due to one who, in spite of the misleading sources on which he drew, in spite also of the mortal danger in which Christendom stood from Islam, could not dismiss it out of hand as a false religion. The light of Christ shines in it too. C. A VISION OF UNITY

We now come to De Pace Fidei, in which Nicolas actually envisages the possibility of a universal religion on which Jews, Christians and Moslems will agree. The immediate occasion for its composition was the capture of Constantinople in 1453 and the atrocities by which this was accompanied. Shocked by the strife and cruelty that issued from religious differences, Nicolas prayed that they might somehow be led to agree and so restore peace to mankind. In a vision, he saw the Lord of all surrounded by his heavenly court. The most eminent of the Archangels took up his petition. There is but one God after whom all men seek, since all seek the good and the true: let God reveal Himself and convince men that 'under the diversity of religious practices there is but one religion*. Here we have the key to the whole book. Nicolas proposes to apply to the non-Christian religions the 1

Sichtung, pp. 202 f.: Opera, p. 904.

29

Christianity Among the Religions principle that worked in the case of the Greeks and the Hussites. Nations develop their own customs and in course of time become so attached to these that nothing will induce them to abandon them. And why should they? But why should they remain apart and hostile on that account? The unity of religion requires only agreement on essentials; on non-essentials let there by full toleration. An admirable formula, no doubt, but who decides what is essential and what is not? In the vision the Word seconds the archangel's petition and God bids the angels who have oversight of the nations summon an assembly of their wise men to reduce the variety of religions to the one true faith. He is convinced that, as religion is natural to all men, so the basic ideas of Christianity are accepted implicitly by all. The wise may be persuaded of this by reasoning, while the prejudices of the multitude can be respected where they do not militate against this universal faith. The discussion takes the form of a series of questions addressed to the Word by the spokesmen of various nations, and answered through the medium, first of Peter then of Paul. The Greek and the Italian represent philosophy, and they are easily brought to acknowledge that Wisdom is one and that it is God, 'the one simple, eternal God, the source of all'.1 The Arabian, who stands for Islam in its philosophical rather than its religious aspects, agrees, but asks what then is to be done with polytheists? The reply is that those who worship many gods may yet seek in them all the one Godhead. Provided they will recognize him and worship him in the full sense, there is no reason why they should not venerate holy men. So with idols. They can be permitted where they aid men to worship the one true God, but not where they draw them away from him. The crux of the whole discussion is, of course, the Trinity and the Incarnation. These for Nicolas are among the essentials, Christian dogmas that must enter into any universal religion. 1 Uber den Frieden im Glauben, ed. Ludwig Moehler, 1943, p. 93; De Pace Fidei, ed. Klibansky and Bascovy, 1956. See Gandillac, op. cit. also Sweetman, op. cit. ii/i. 170 ff. 30

A Vision of Unity He tries to show that they are not inconsistent with the unity of God; indeed, that they follow logically from it. Here he has recourse to the philosophy expounded in all his writings.1 On the one hand, by the principles of negative theology, God is absolute and inexpressible. As infinite he is neither threefold nor one nor yet any of the attributes that can be ascribed to him. For the names that are applied to God are taken from the creatures, since in Himself he is inexpressible and exalted above all that can be named or spoken of.2

On the other hand, positive theology speaks of him, not as he is in himself, but as he is in relation to the world. That world is characterized by multiplicity, inequality, and division. God is prior to these as eternal unity, equality and connection, and in him these three are one. So those who grant the unity confess the Trinity implicitly in so doing. A similar argument is developed in the case of the Incarnation. If the universal religion is to have so much Christian dogma, will it have any Christian rites? Certainly, says our cardinal. Yet these are of much less importance in his eyes. For faith and love alone are essential and alone are necessary to salvation. On circumcision, it might seem that the best course would be for the Christians to submit to this in return for the acceptance of so much of their dogma by Jews and Moslems. This, however, is scarcely practicable, so it is to be hoped that the majority will fall in with the minority on this point. Non-Christians are to accept the Eucharist, but a rational account of transubstantiation is given so as to relieve it of any charge of materialism. The method of its administration is one of those points on which liberty of opinion can safely be conceded. How shall we judge of this scheme? It is possible to brand it as hopelessly conservative. In the sphere of dogma, peace is made 1 See especially Of Learned Ignorance, trans. Germain Heron, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1954. 2 Frieden, p. 107; De Pace, p. 20.

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Christianity Among the Religions on one condition—that other religions surrender to Christianity. Baptism and the Mass, ordination and marriage are to be accepted by all, though in return there need be no uniformity on such matters as fasting and forms of prayer. Let the different nations thereby provoke each other to greater zeal. On the other hand, there are some remarkably liberal features. The disquisition on justification by faith, while hardly Protestant in tone, shows a new interest in Paul. And what shall we think of a cardinal who says not so much as a word on the authority of the Church or submission to the Pope? We may suspect that he was prepared to go farther in his toleration of a diversity of rites than most of those in his position would have done. The humanism of the Renaissance was at work in him. The cynic might say that this solution of the problem is naive in the extreme. Peace between the religions is possible if only all will accept—the philosophy of Nicolas of Cusa. But what else could he have said? What have we to urge upon our fellows except what we believe to be true? Neither to the writer nor to the reader of this book is any other course open.

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in

The Impact of China a. THE R E F O R M A T I O N

To the Renaissance and the Reformation the non-Christian world was still that of Nicolas of Cusa, the world of Judaism, Islam, and paganism. Luther knew the non-Christian only as either the Turk, or the Jew, and when he translated Ricoldo's Confutatio into German, he did it partly as an encouragement of Christians perplexed by the advance of Islam and partly as a polemic against the Pope, a worse Antichrist even than Mohammed. The discovery of America did not alter the position substantially; it merely enlarged the area occupied by paganism and deprived of the Gospel. When the Reformers therefore discussed the salvation of the heathen, they did so in terms of classical and biblical precedents. Zwingli, for example, did not doubt that there would be a place in heaven for Hercules and Theseus as well as Socrates. In short, there has not lived a single good man, there has not been a single pious heart or believing soul from the beginning of the world to the end, which you will not see there in the presence of God. All that he has to say of Islam is casual, ill-informed, and mere repetition of the prejudices we have already met with.1 There were those, to be sure, who were prepared to go even farther than Zwingli, and among these the most notable is Sebastian Franck. His 'spiritualism', his individual piety and his 1

C

Zwingli andBullinger (Library of Christian Classics), 1953, p. 276. 33

Christianity Among the Religions detachment from all the churches betray the influence of the mediaeval mystics and the humanists, Erasmus among them. He represented that 'universal religion of theism or panentheism' in which Dilthey sees *the highest and freest element in European culture' at that time.1 One of his warmest admirers says of him that he created an amalgam and not a synthesis, a mosaic arranged around certain leading ideas.2 One of these ideas is that of the opposition between the inward and the outward. All religions are relative, because they are so many exteriorizations of the spirit, so many representations of God under a historically conditioned form. The one true religion is the worship of God in spirit and in truth. The actual religions, Christianity among them, are therefore true in so far as they participate in this, false in so far as they depart from it, substituting externals for the inward disposition. Since God is pure goodness, his revelation is for all men at all times; he discloses himself to them inwardly by reason and conscience. All who obey the inward monitor are therefore children of God and acknowledged as such by him. God is no respecter of persons, and the pious heathen is on the same level as the Christian in his sight. Franck mentions Socrates and Plato, Hermes Trismegistus and the Sibyl among those who knew God by the natural light. At the same time, he personally is a Christian and he is prepared to maintain that salvation is by Christ alone. How are the two positions to be reconciled? He falls back on the Logos-doctrine of the Alexandrian Fathers and with its help he equates Christ with the Inner Light, with reason and conscience as they are present in every man. 'All salvation is mediated through Christ, but it is not the historical Christ who bestows it, it is the ideal Christ.'3 Yet the historical Christ is of decisive importance; 1

2 Gesammelte Werke, ii. 81. A. Koyre, Sebastien Franck, 1932, pp. 8 f. A. Hegler, Geist und Schrift bei Sebastian Franck, 1892, p. 199. So for Dirk Coornheert the 'Indwelling Christ reaches out far beyond the borders of Christendom, since, apart from the Scriptures, the Logos has brought new light and life to many souls in the non-Christian world*. Troeltsch, The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches, London: Allen & Unwin, 1931, ii. 764. 8

34

The Impact of China he bears witness to, makes manifest, the eternal truth that is written on the heart of man as such. His true church is therefore invisible and spiritual, to be found among Christians and heathen alike. There are thoughts here with which we shall be concerned in the sequel. Unfortunately, there were limits to the charity of so great a soul. Judaism he dismissed as a religion of external observances, its spirit long since dead. Of Mohammed he knew only the current slanders and he repeated them without examination. The prophet was a blind leader of the blind, propagating religion sword in hand. He won men by sensual delights and the indulgence of the passions. That the divine government of the world allowed such a man to appear and work so much harm could be explained in one way only; he was an instrument of God to punish apostate Christendom.1 The Reformation, then, was not open to the non-Christian world. The Counter-Reformation was, and its missionaries, recruited largely from the Society of Jesus, entered India, China and Japan. So doing they rediscovered the strange world that Marco Polo had visited. His report of what he found there had been dismissed as a traveller's tale; the accounts sent home by the Jesuits were taken seriously and became a factor of no slight importance in the intellectual life of Europe. b. MISSIONS TO CHINA

This is not the place for more than a brief reference to the story of Jesuit missionary enterprise in China. There were two important phases in this. The first began with the arrival of Matteo Ricci at Goa in 1578. Five years later, he and a companion had established themselves in the neighbourhood of Canton. At first they dressed as Buddhist monks, but soon found that this carried with it no prestige. So, since their aim was to reach the upper class, they decided to adopt the dress of scholars. In their new role and with their knowledge of Western science they were able to enter into 1

Arnold Reimann, Sebastian Franck ah Geschichtsphilosoph, 1923, p. 72.

35

Christianity Among the Religions polite society and even to win converts. Ricci made his way to Pekin, where the present of a clock to the emperor secured him, if not permission to reside in the capital, at least toleration there. The mission was reinforced from Europe by men of outstanding ability, with such success that an imperial decree entrusted some of them with the reform of the calendar. John Adam Schall supervised the casting of cannon for the defence of Pekin against the Manchus, and his skill won such respect that the conquerors in turn took him into their service. Not until the third decade of the seventeenth century did other orders establish themselves in China, notably the Dominicans and Franciscans. Meantime—and with this we come to the second phase—Louis XIV saw in a French mission to China an opportunity to enhance his prestige, and in the second half of the century the Societe des Missions Etrang&es came into being. Its agents worked at first in Siam and Indo-China, but later extended their operations to China. In 1683 six French Jesuits, specially selected for their scientific knowledge, sailed for China under royal patronage. The emperor Kang H'si was one of the most enlightened of Chinese rulers, and in 1692 he issued the long-desired edict of toleration. Meanwhile, friction had developed between the various orders and nationalities with interests in the country. From the beginning Ricci adopted the policy of 'accommodation'. He wanted to make the transition to Christianity as easy and as natural as possible, and also to defend himself against the charge of introducing a foreign religion. He took the view that the traditional ceremonies in honour of Confucius and the ancestors were civil and not religious in character, so that a Christian might legitimately take part in them, if the laws of the empire so required. There was also the question of the Chinese equivalent for ' God'. While normally using T'ien Chu (Lord of Heaven), Ricci was prepared to take from the classics the terms Shang Ti and Heaven. Not all the Jesuits agreed with him, but the really bitter opposition came from the Dominicans. The controversy was carried on in Europe as well as China, and while Rome was considering what decision to reach, the emperor identified himself 36

The Impact of China with the Jesuits. When therefore the Pope in 1704 finally gave judgment against them, the emperor was incensed at what he considered interference in a domestic concern. Meanwhile, in Europe itself powerful forces were at work against the order, and submission became inevitable. But this brought on it the imperial displeasure, persecution broke out again, and an enterprise once so promising was brought to a standstill. Long before that happened, however, the Jesuits had translated into Latin some of the Chinese classics and given to Europe their impressions of a civilization that compared favourably with its own. In addition, some of them had revisited their own countries and excited intense interest by their reports. For they offered a momentous, perhaps even a decisive, contribution to the debate in which Europe was engaged. Sick of rival creeds and devasting wars of religion, men everywhere were turning to 'natural religion' as the one possible basis of agreement. Here was a religion for all sensible men, a welcome end to fanaticism of every kind. One of the best and most influential statements of this position was Lord Herbert of Cherbury's De Veritate. According to him, man shares with the animal a natural instinct for self-preservation, though in him it assumes a higher form, becoming spiritual and no longer merely biological. It therefore equips him with certain 'common notions'. These are axiomatic, basic to our thinking. They are like Kant's categories inasmuch as they are presupposed in all experience, and indeed constitutive of it. These common notions are five in number. They are (a) the existence and attributes of God, (b) his claim to worship, (c) the connection between virtue and piety, (d) repentance for wrong-doing, and (e) rewards and punishments after death. And the only Catholic and uniform Church is the doctrine of Common Notions which comprehends all places and all men. This Church alone reveals Divine Universal Providence, or the wisdom of Nature. And it is only through this Church that salvation is possible.1 1

Lord Herbert of Cherbury, De Veritate, trans. Carre, 1937, p. 303. 37

Christianity Among the Religions Herbert did not deny revelation, but he was suspicious of it. He commends the attitude of the 'cautious layman', who demands cogent proofs before he will credit the priests farther than these common notions allow. Such indeed was the attitude of intelligent men in the ancient world. Their real religion was that set out above: all else they either dismissed as absurd or at best tolerated with a smile. In the course of the debate certain crucial questions emerged. Is belief in God universal or are there peoples to whom this is unknown? Is such belief necessary to personal morality and social order or is atheism compatible therewith? What is the relation, for those who allow revelation, between this and natural religion? As long as the discussion was purely theoretical it was likely to remain inconclusive. But the news from China suggested that there was an alternative. For had not that country staged an immense and protracted experiment that would provide a definitive answer to precisely these questions? C. JESUIT WITNESS

What was the judgment of these Jesuit missionaries on the religion they found in China? I shall call in evidence four witnesses. They represent the majority opinion, though there were dissenters within the order. (i) The first is Matteo Ricci himself. He distinguished between the original texts of the classics and the interpretation put upon them by the dominant Sung philosophy. As to the religious implications of this philosophy let a contemporary Chinese scholar speak: This attempt to humanise the K'ung (Confucian) doctrine had also the indirect effect of ultimately doing away with the ancient Sinitic conception of heaven as a personalized god. . . . And now, with the mysteries of the creation satisfactorily explained in terms of metaphysics, it is obvious that there would be no further use for an almighty god as the ruling deity of men.1 x

Liu Wu-chi, A Short History of Confucian Philosophy, London: Penguin Books, 1955, p. 164.

38

The Impact of China It was precisely this 'ancient Sinitic conception of heaven as a personalized god' that gave the missionary his point d'appui in approaching the scholar class. The Shang Ti, the Heaven, and the Lord of heaven were for him so many names for the one great and good God, maker and ruler of all things. In other words, he found in Confucius the natural theology, the preparatio evangelica, of China as his theological training had given him this for the West in Aristotle. Hence his most important work in Chinese was the catechism The True Doctrine of God, which ran through five editions during his lifetime. We are told that 'it led countless numbers to Christianity, and aroused esteem for our religion in those readers whom it did not convert'.1 The book, we are told, consisted entirely of arguments from the natural light of reason, rather than such as are based upon the authority of Holy Scripture. In this way the road was levelled and made clear for the acceptance of the mysteries dependent upon faith and upon the knowledge of divine revelation. The book also contained citations serving its purpose and taken from the ancient Chinese writers; passages which were not merely ornamental, but served to promote the acceptance of this work by the enquiring readers of other Chinese books. It also provided a refutation of all the Chinese religious sects, excepting the one founded on the natural law, as developed by their Prince of Philosophers, Confucius, and adopted by the sect of the literati. Their particular philosophy as developed by the ancients, contains but little that is justly reprehensible. . . . The reply made by Doctor Paid, when he was asked, what he considered to be the basis of the Christian law, might be quoted here, as being very timely. He defined the whole subject in four syllables, or rather, in four words, when he said, Ciue, Po, Fu, Giu, meaning, It does away with idols and completes the law of the literati.2 (ii) Nicolas Trigault arrived in Macao in the year of Ricci's death (1610): by this time the mission had established itself so 1

Catholic Encyclopaedia, xiii. 36. China in the Sixteenth Century: The Journals of Matthew Ricci, trans. Louis J. Gallagher, New York: Random House, 1942, p. 448. 2

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Christianity Among the Religions securely that a few years later he was sent back to Europe to recruit new workers. On the voyage home he translated into Latin the Journals kept by his great predecessor, prefacing them with an account of China and its people from his own pen. Arrived in Rome, he presented the completed work to the Pope, and it was published in 1615 under the title De Christiana expeditione apud Sinas ab Societate Jesu. Translations soon followed into French, German, and Spanish. Like Ricci, Trigault distinguished sharply between the Buddhist bonzes and the literati. But he was struck by the similarity of the Pure Land sect of Buddhism to the Catholicism he had brought from Europe. This philosophy seems not only to have borrowed from the West but to have actually caught a glimpse of light from the Christian Gospels... In some respects their profane rites resemble our own ecclesiastical ceremonies, as for instance their recitation in chant which hardly differs from our Gregorian.1

His final judgment is remarkable for its charity. One can confidently hope that, in the mercy of God, many of the ancient Chinese found salvation in the natural law, assisted as they must have been by that special help which, as the theologians teach, is denied to no one who does what he can toward salvation, according to the light of his conscience. That they endeavoured to do this is readily determined from their history of more than four thousand years, which really is a record of good deeds done on behalf of their country and for the common good.2

(iii) The most important work for which the Jesuits were responsible was Confucius Sinarum Philosophus, published in Paris in 1687 with a dedication to Louis XIV. It contained a Life of Confucius, followed by translations of the Great Learning, the 1 L. J. Gallagher, The China That Was, from the Latin of Nicolas Trigault, S.J., New York: Bruce Pub. Co., 1942, p. 164. 2 Ibid. p. 154. On the position of Jesuit theologians in Europe see Louis Caperan, Leprobteme (te salut des infi&les, 1934, i. 278 ff.

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The Impact of China Doctrine of the Mean, and the Analects. Four scholars collaborated in it, Couplet, Herbtrich, Intorcetta, and Rougemont. Chronological tables traced the origin of the Chinese nation to the time of the Deluge. Basing on this, Louis Le Comte took a farther step in his Nouveaux memoires sur Yetat present de la Chine (Paris, 1696). The appeal to natural law was not enough, the Chinese were declared to be repositories of revelation. As the immediate descendants of Noah, the founders of the Chinese empire carried with them almost intact the revelation of God at the beginning of the race. The third emperor built the most ancient temple in the world and sacrificed to the true God long before this was done in Israel. Only gradually did deterioration set in, and even then it was never total. For more than two thousand years China preserved the knowledge of the true God and practised die purest maxims of morality while Europe and almost all the rest of the world were in error and corruption.1 The theological faculty at the Sorbonne thought otherwise. If the Chinese had got so far without revelation, what need was there for it. The Jesuit plea that there had been revelation did not receive the consideration it deserved. In 1700 a series of propositions extracted from Le Comte's work were censured and condemned as heretical. While the discussion continued, an opponent of the Jesuits put clearly what seemed to him at stake. If all those who have lived according to reason, whether Jews or Gentiles, were truly and properly Christians and in a state of salvation, like those who had faith and to whom Jesus Christ was revealed, it becomes possible to save oneself by the capacities of nature, and faith in Jesus Christ as mediator is entirely unnecessary.2 (iv) It might well appear that this was as far as one could go towards meeting Confucianism halfway. But it was not. There 1 2

G. Atkinson, Les relations de voyages du XVIIe sieck, p. 93. Ibid. p. 97, see also Caperan, op. cit. pp. 362 ff. 41

Christianity Among the Religions was a group of Jesuits known as the 'figurists' whose theories were so extreme that their superiors in Europe refused to give them to the public. Bouvet was among the most ardent of these. In a letter to Leibniz, dated from Pekin November 8, 1702, he went so far as to assert that almost the whole system of the true religion is to be found in the classical books of the Chinese, and that the principal mysteries of the incarnation of the Word, the life and death of the Saviour, and the chief functions of his holy ministry are contained in the precious monuments of ancient China as it were in prophetic fashion.1 It was particularly the I-king or Book of Changes that Bouvet had in mind. Not that it was an inspired work on the same level as the Old Testament, but it preserved an original revelation that had been lost elsewhere or obscured beyond all recognition. The chronology with which the Chinese historians worked made it impossible to argue, as had once been done, that the wisdom of the Gentiles was borrowed from Moses. It must, in the case of China, go back to Noah if not indeed—as Bouvet suggested—to Enoch, who in turn drew on oral traditions coming down from Adam. What an argument with which to confute sceptics at home! What they challenged was shown to be part of the human heritage from the beginning of the race. And what an argument against heretics, too! For, writes Bouvet, it will be seen that the prophets and holy teachers of the natural law must have had almost as much light on the principal mysteries of the law of Jesus Christ as the holy Fathers had, and that the Church the Son of God established on earth is truly catholic and universal for all periods of time as for all places on the earth.2 His superiors were not prepared to have the church as universal as that. The whole scheme was too much like a Christian version 1

2

Leibniz, Oeuvres (Geneva, Fratres de Tournes), 1768, iv/i. 165.

VirgHe Pinot, La Chine et la formation de Vesprit philosophise en France 1640-1740,1932, pp. 352 £ 42

The Impact of China of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, with dogmas reduced to 'common notions'. But there was no point in risking a heresy trial, as the order had enemies enough already. So these novel ideas got no farther than scholars like Leibniz who were in correspondence with individual missionaries. d. B E L I E V E R S

We have followed the Jesuit reports on Confucianism, most of them remarkably favourable and some even extravagantly so. What was the reception accorded to them in Europe? Some believed and some doubted. For in Europe at the time there was much that disposed men to accept this story of a society superior to their own in morals and political science, with much to teach in the art of civilized living. Criticism of existing institutions sought support in travellers' tales of remote and simple peoples with none of Europe's vices because they were so much nearer to nature. The Kindly Savage, the Wise Egyptian, the Mohammedan Arab, the Turkish, or Persian, Satirist—all these were highly diverting and most welcome to those who were looking for a new order of things. But still more popular than any of these was the Chinese Sage.1 Among the believers the chief place must go to Leibniz as a champion of natural religion who found an ally in China and the Jesuits. On a visit to Rome in 1689 he met one of the missionaries, Grimaldi by name, and gained from him first-hand knowledge of the country. On Grimaldi's return to China he corresponded with him. A letter written in December of the same year shows that he had read Confucius Sinarum Philosophus, and in the same month he writes suggesting that he put a notice on his door Bureau d'adresse pour la Chine, so busy is he collecting and disseminating information about the country.2 In the preface 1 2

Paul Hazard, The European Mind (1680-1715), 1935, p. 24. R. F. Merkel, Leibniz und die Chinamission, 1952, p. 17.

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Christianity Among the Religions to Novissima Sinica he singles out for special mention as characteristic of Chinese society the stability of family life, based as it is on respect for age, the public peace and social order everywhere manifest, the mutual deference and courtesy that enter into daily intercourse. Then follow the remarkable words: The condition of affairs among ourselves seems to me to be such that, in view of the inordinate lengths to which the corruption of morals has advanced, I almost think it necessary that Chinese missionaries should be sent to us to teach us the aim and practice of natural theology, as we send missionaries to them to instruct them in revealed theology. For I believe that if a wise man were to be appointed judge— not of the beauty of goddesses, but of the goodness of peoples—he would award the golden apple to the Chinese—unless indeed we should outdo them in nobility by conferring on them that which is, indeed, a superhuman good—the divine gift of the Christian religion.1 Leibniz suggests that the West may have something to learn from the East, but that the West has also something to give. Even greater was the enthusiasm for China of Christian Wolff. The furore provoked by his rectoral address De Sinarum Philosophia Practica was such as to lead to his expulsion from the University of Halle and the Prussian dominions. He borrows from the Jesuits but differs from the majority of them on the crucial point. That is to say, he is sure that the ancient Chinese had no knowledge of God, whether natural or revealed. Longobardi, who succeeded Ricci as head of the China mission, had taken this view and was critized for it by Leibniz. Wolff prefers his finding to Ricci's. In their achievements, as in their standards, the ancient Chinese drew on their unaided natural resources. They have therefore proved, for all to see, that human powers are sufficient to enable us to choose good and refuse evil. The Chinese ethic is purely rational, humanist, and utilitarian, with no appeal to authority and no sanction in a life after death. The good is that which ministers to the happiness and development of individual 1

Oeuvres, iv/i. 82. The translation is from Reichwein, China and Europe, 1925, pp. 80 f.

44

The Impact of China and society alike. Yet, while it differs toto caelo from the Christian ethic as far as ground and motive are concerned, it does not differ appreciably in content. To harmonize the two systems, we have only to suppose that God forbids certain courses of action because he sees that they will promote the welfare of society and forbids others because they will injure it.1 There were even those who gave credence to the fantasies of the Figurists. The Chevalier Ramsey appeals to them in Les Voyages de Cyrus (1728). The appendix includes information from an authority on China, 'a gentleman of superior genius, who does not care to be mentioned till he has published a large work upon these matters'. The extracts from the Chinese classics that he sent to Ramsey and that are reproduced by him are obviously his allegorical interpretations rather than the original texts. The book itself is written to show that the doctrines of the primitive perfection of nature, its fall, and its restoration by a divine Hero, are equally manifest in the Mythologies of the Greeks, Egyptians, Persians, Indians, and Chinese.2

This is the thesis of a primitive revelation that we have met already and shall meet again. Last but not least among the supporters of the Jesuits in this matter I would cite Voltaire. He is sure that the ancient religion of China was the worship of one Supreme Being, without idolatry or superstition, and that this is still the creed of the scholar class. The accusation of idolatry brought against them is due to misunderstanding; gestures and actions implying no more than deep respect have been mistaken for worship. What idolatry obtains in China is due to Taoism and Buddhism and was always scorned by Confucians. He does not lose an opportunity to contrast the tolerance practised in China with the religious furies of Europe. Confucius himself is almost beyond praise. 1

Gesammelte kkine philosophische Schriften, 1740, vi. 67 ff See also vi. 529 ff. and The Real Happiness of a People under a Philosophical King, 1750. 2 The Travels of Cyrust 1751, p. 294.

45

Christianity Among the Religions His ethic is as pure, as austere, and at the same time as human as that of Epictetus. . . He enjoins forgiveness of injuries, gratitude for benefits received, friendship, and humanity. His disciples were a community of brothers. The period during which his laws were followed was the happiest and most honourable this earth has ever known.1 And now the case for the sceptics must he heard.

e. SCEPTICS I have included Wolff among the believers because he did not question the Jesuit account of Chinese civilization as wholly admirable. He might have been listed with the sceptics because he sided with the minority view that Confucianism was an atheist and humanist philosophy. Bayle was of the same mind, and this enabled him to reach two conclusions disturbing to the orthodox. First, what has become of the consensus omnium gentium, if the oldest and wisest people of Asia was without God? Second, it is clear that revealed religion is not indispensable to morality, not even to a morality that can compare favourably with that of the New Testament. That there is a knowledge of God among all peoples and at all times—this, remarks Bayle, is as difficult to prove as it is easy to assert. It would require evidence beyond the power of man to assemble. Could it be proved true of all known peoples, are they more than a fraction of the race at one short phase of its history? Think what unexplored regions would need to be investigated, what languages mastered, what strange customs interpreted, before a statement about 'all' men at 'all' times would acquire plausibility. In the case of China, many of those who lived in the country for years and acquired its language report that its scholars are atheists. Others say that the true God was originally known there, but they admit that few now retain that knowledge. And Le Gobien, Jesuit as he is, gives an account of the dominant philosophy that makes it sheer materialism.2 1

Oeuvres, xv. 275.

2

Continuation des Penstes Diverse*, 1705, ii. 537 ff.

46

The Impact of China To crown his argument, Bayle quotes a letter written by Longobardi in 1598 to the head of his order, in which he dilates on the virtues of the scholar class and regrets only that men of such admirable qualities should be so blind in religion, atheists who deny the immortality of the soul and scout the whole notion of rewards and punishments after death.1 How is it possible after this to maintain that the dogmas of revealed religion alone can prevent society from breaking down into the war of all against all? Voltaire was to join issue with Bayle on this point. His variety of deism was indispensable to social cohesion and stability. 'To reject outright any belief in God would be an error with frightful moral consequences, an error incompatible with wise government.'2 He therefore sides with Ricci against Longobardi. Clearly, the dispute was interminable, for there were witnesses waiting to be called on both sides. Voltaire warned the orthodox critics of the Jesuits that they were playing a dangerous game. But there were those among the orthodox to whom it did not appear that much was at stake. They could not accept the high estimate so many of the missionaries set on the Confucian ethic. In his Dialogues des Moris Fenelon, for example, stages a conversation between Socrates and Confucius. The latter admits frankly that he confined himself to a morality of social utility. Socrates replies that he for his part insisted on going back to first principles. Indeed, he doubts whether what Confucius teaches deserves the name of morality. Is it more than social convention? When Confucius replies by citing the travellers who have praised his countrymen, Socrates wants more evidence. There are those who tell a very different story, who say that of all the people on the face of the earth, the Chinese are the most vain, the most superstitious, the most mercenary, the most unjust, and the biggest liars.3 1 2

Continuation des Penstes Diverses, 1705, ii. 785 f. 3 Oeuvres, xv. 280. Oeuvres, 1835, ii. 571.

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Christianity Among the Religions The China legend was becoming discredited. Grimm could say in 1776: The Chinese Empire has become in our time the object of special attention and special study. The missionaries first fascinated public opinion by rose-coloured reports from that distant land, too distant to be able to contradict their falsehoods. Then the philosophers took it up, and drew from it whatever could be of use to them in denouncing and removing the evils they observed in their own country. Thus this country became in a short time the home of wisdom, virtue, and good faith, its government the best possible and the longest established, its morality the loftiest and most beautiful in the known world; its laws, its policy, its art, its industry, were likewise such as to serve for a model to all nations of the earth.1 1

Reichwein, op. cit. p. 96.

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IV

Rationalism and Romanticism a. THE E D U C A T I O N OF THE R A C E

WE may take a moment now to look back over the way by which we have travelled thus far. We have seen how wider knowledge, first of Islam and then of China, left Europe no alternative but to recognize the presence of truth beyond the frontiers of the Christian religion. The critics of the Church, of course, seized on this evidence with avidity; it did but confirm the conclusion at which they had arrived from a study of classical antiquity. Within the Church, on the other hand, we witnessed the emergence in some quarters of a world-historical perspective. There was a primitive revelation, first to Adam and then to Noah, and while this was virtually lost elsewhere, it had maintained itself in Israel and to a less extent in China. Traces of & preparatio evangelica were therefore to be found everywhere. This judgment received support by the publication at Oxford of Thomas Hyde's Veterum Persarum et Parthorum et Mediorum religionis Historia (2nd edn. 1760). Hyde suggests that Zoroaster had some knowledge of the Old Testament and had profited by conversation with Jewish exiles. The coming of Messiah was revealed by him, and it was because of this that the Magi were sent by the Persian king of that time to pay homage to him at his birth. God had a peculiar love for this people, because they preserved so much of the original revelation handed on to them through Shem and Elam. This, then, was the orthodox perspective. The rationalism of the eighteenth century operated with the same materials but produced a different structure. It denied an original revelation D 49

Christianity Among the Religions from which the race had fallen away, and had therefore to work with the hypothesis of a development, truth lying in the future rather than the past. Revelation then became either a claim put forward by the priestly class to secure their own authority or an auxiliary to natural religion. The most important presentation of this view is Lessing's. Lessing belongs to rationalism by his emphasis on natural religion and his reduction of this to a few simple and immediately acceptable ideas. But he transcends it by his recognition that positive religion is more than priestcraft. It is a historical necessity. His principle is that 'all positive and revealed religions are equally true and equally false'. They are equally true because all alike meet a social need at a particular point in history; equally false because all alike obscure the essential by placing the non-essential on a level with it.1 For a fuller statement we turn to The Education of the Human Race. An original revelation of the truths that make up natural religion is granted but not stressed. For the universal religion we must look to the future. It is the goal towards which we are being led. And the function of revelation is to get us there sooner than we should have done had we been left to ourselves. It speeds up the process for the race as education does for the individual. Education gives man nothing which he could not also get from within himself; it gives him that which he could get from within himself, only quicker and more easily. In the same way, too, revelation gives nothing to the human race which human reason could not arrive at on its own; only it has given, and still gives to it, the most important of these things sooner.2

The sacred book is part of this process. It is a primer containing the instruction appropriate to each stage of development. The Old Testament taught a religion of rewards and punishments in this world, since only so could the Hebrews be brought one day to 1 2

H. Chadwick, Lessing's Theological Writings, 1956, pp. 104 f. Ibid. p. 83. 50

Rationalism and Romanticism grasp the unity of God. We Christians have the New Testament as 'the second, better primer for the race of man'.1 But this is not final. We look for an 'age of the Spirit', a 'new eternal gospel'. Nor is this a mere aspiration. It is a certainty, for progress is inevitable. Or, if not that, it is an article of faith. 'It will assuredly come! the time of anew eternal gospel, which is promised us in the primers of the New Covenant itself.'2 It is never easy to interpret Lessing when he writes on religious matters. Just because he knows that what he has to say will disturb, he introduces concessions and modifications that will gain it a hearing. We are probably nearer to what he himself believed in the play Nathan the Wise, especially in the parable of the three rings to which the action is meant to lead up. It is Nathan's answer to Saladin's question: Which of the three religions is the true one? In a certain family, a ring has been handed down from generation to generation, each father giving it to the dearest of his sons. It has power to make the wearer loved by God and man. The time comes when a father has three sons who are equally dear and he promises the ring to each. On his deathbed he therefore orders two copies of the original ring and gives one of the three to each of the brothers. After his death, each claims that his is the genuine one and they go to law to settle the dispute. The judge refuses a decision, but offers advice. Let them go away and so live as to demonstrate the virtues of the ring. So, free from prejudice, let each one aim To emulate his brethren in the strife To prove the virtues of his several ring, By offices of kindness and of love, And trust in God. And if, in years to come, The virtues of the ring shall reappear Amongst your children's children, then, once more Come to this judgment-seat. A greater far Than I shall sit upon it, and decide.3 1 2

H. Chadwick, Lessing's Theological Writings, 1956, p. 93. 3 Ibid. p. 96. Nathan the Wise, trans. E. Bell, 1888, pp. 82 f. 51

Christianity Among the Religions The test is 'By your fruits'. To ask which is the true religion is to ask an idle and a dangerous question. Idle, because no man has the knowledge to answer it; and if appeal is made to revelation, all three, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam can lay claim to this. Dangerous, because that way he intolerance, fanaticism, subordination of moral integrity to religious zeal, perversion of human relationships, and open strife in the end—all this is developed in the body of the drama. The only question worth asking is which religion does most good, and this only time, tolerance, and concentration on essentials will show. The play makes a special application of this lesson for the benefit of Christians. Let them abandon once for all their claim to a monopoly of the truth. Let them accept their religion as one among several, a historical phenomenon like the others, and live by the human rather than the Christian. The eighteenth century has completed what the seventeenth began, and the missionary perspective has been quite abandoned. b. HISTORICAL RELATIVISM

The overcoming of rationalism had begun with Lessing, when he formulated the idea of a historical process in which each of the religions had its part to play. But he was not able to develop this, and he fell back in the end on the poverty of natural religion. The next step was taken by Herder in his Outlines of a Philosophy of the History of Man (1784-1791), a work that astonishes equally by its detail and its synoptic vision, its recognition that nature conditions man and its confidence that man transcends nature. The ruling idea of the book is that of the individual as an organic whole, rich in potentialities that develop under the influence of the environment, and in its turn one aspect of a whole of similar nature. What man is is therefore not to be found by penetrating behind the flux of phenomena to some permanent substance; he comes to be what he is in and through these phenomena, in and through the historical process. As to what the individual is that constitutes the unit of history—on this point 52

Rationalism and Romanticism Herder is ambiguous. Sometimes it is the individual person, as when he speaks of man as intermediate between two worlds and destined for immortality. Sometimes again it is the nation. But for Herder the nation is a natural community as the state is not. The latter is often a mere product of conquest, whereas the former has a set of innate powers and develops these through a life peculiarly its own. At any given point in its development, it is to be understood as the resultant of two sets of forces, those inherent in it and those brought to bear on it from the environment. Had the European peoples, for example, been set down in less favourable climatic conditions, they would not have reached their present supremacy. Nay more, no one would have known what qualities they possessed, since these can be discerned only as they are expressed in history, and there would have been no such expression. Each nation has a great part to play, in turn, in the development of man. For man has a vocation to 'humanity', and this is fulfilled only as his potentialities are realized. Critics of Herder complain that he has given no adequate account of what he means by this 'humanity'. I would reply that no such account is in the nature of the case possible. Herder has done all that can be done, so presented the idea that it awakens in us the appropriate response, if we are willing to obey the summons it addresses to us. Fellowship, justice, and religion are the principal components of what is meant. Man is so made that it is natural for him to share life with his fellows; he knows himself to be under obligations that forbid the use of this association for private advantage; and he is conscious of that which transcends him and claims his reverence. The attainment of the goal by the human race requires millenia of trial and effort, and numerous peoples must co-operate if it is to be possible. But sooner or later, in some quarter of the globe, everything human that is possible will become actual. In this improved programme for the education of the race religion is cast for a most important role. In each people it is that basic response to the Whole out of which, by a process of differentiation, such other forms of expression as art and literature 53

Christianity Among the Religions spring. In each people, again, tradition is the bearer of religion, and tradition is the means by which, generation by generation, a people educates itself for its task. Further, the principle of the unique character and worth of the individual must mean that the various religions are not to be judged by standards derived from one of them, our own, but that each is to be appraised simply by asking how it met the needs of its people and its time. For what one nation holds indispensable to the circle of its thoughts has never entered into the mind of a second, and by a third has been deemed injurious.1

To be understood, a religion has to be set against its geographical background and within its historical context. How different this from the abstract natural religion that moderns have invented and foisted upon an equally abstract and invented man! Must we then surrender to relativism? It would seem so. Singular and wonderful are what we call the genetic spirit and character of a people. It is inexplicable; it is ineradicable; ancient as the nation, ancient as the country he inhabits. The Brahmin pertains to his region: no other, he is persuaded, merits its sacred soil Thus the Siamese and the Japanese; everywhere, out of their own country, they are untimely planted shrubs. What the Indian solitary thinks of his god, the Siamese of his emperor, we do not think: what to us appear activity and freedom of mind, manly honour and female beauty, in their eyes are far otherwise. ... It is the same with all the customs of diversified man, nay, with all that appears on our earth.2

To know all is therefore to accept all. Every religion is justified in its place, and criticism is ruled out as inapplicable. Christianity is the religion of Europe, Hinduism of India: he who says this has said all there is to say. The wise man will therefore accept the beliefs of others as valid for them. His own are not superior; they are merely those that are appropriate to his situation and so 1

Outlines, etc., trans. T. Churchill, 1800, p. 201. 54

2

Ibid. p. 314.

Rationalism and Romanticism valid for him. Herder only says clearly what is in the minds of many today. If a nation or a class of men possess good morals and arts; if it have such ideas and such virtues as suffice for its labours and a happy and contented life; it is sufficiently enlightened for its wants; even supposing it unable to account for an eclipse, otherwise than by the wellknown tale of the dragon. ... I cannot possibly persuade myself that every individual of every nation was intended to acquire a metaphysical idea of God, without which, though probably at last turning on a mere word, he must be superstitious, barbarous, and less than man.1 Historical relativism has arrived and it will pursue us to the end of this enquiry. It is difficult to refute, but it is not on that account to be accepted. For the fact is that it just cannot be accepted in practice. None of us occupies a standpoint outside the historical process. He is within it and must pass judgment from the position he occupies. Complete suspension of judgment is out of the question. Certainly, it is not to be found in Herder. He condemns China, in spite of his familiarity with the Jesuits and their panegyrics. The empire is an embalmed mummy, wrapped in silk, and painted with hieroglyphics; its internal circulation is that of a dormouse in its winter sleep.2 He finds much to praise in Hinduism, but censures as pernicious the caste system and the practice of suttee. Despotism, polygamy, and servitude to the letter of the Koran, are the charges brought against Islam. The account of Christianity is unhistorical and quite in the spirit of the Enlightenment. He draws a sharp distinction between the religion o/" Christ and the religion about him. No praise is too much for the former, no blame too severe for the latter. 'His vital scheme for the welfare of mankind' is opposed to 'an unreflecting adoration' of 'his cross and person'.3 1 2

Outlines, etc., trans. T. Churchill, 1800 p. 312. 3 Ibid. p. 296. Ibid. p. 492. 55

Christianity Among the Religions Historical relativism has arrived and must be accepted. Yet it must also somehow be overcome. This is the problem with which we shall henceforth be concerned. C. RELIGION IN ESSENCE AND MANIFESTATION

Herder, we have seen, was still fettered by the rationalist dogma of natural religion to some extent. In Schleiermacher, on the other hand, emancipation was complete. The essence of religion is not to be constructed a priori out of abstract ideas such as God, duty, and immorality. It is not the kernel that remains when the husk has been thrown away; it is rather the life that sustains an organism through all its changes. And religion is neither metaphysics nor morals; it is sui generis. Since its home is neither in knowing nor in doing, there remains but one possibility, feeling. Whereas in science we are concerned with establishing relations between items within the universe, in religion we have to do with the universe as a whole. Whereas in morality we are active, in religion we are passive. True, religion is bound up with particulars, but not with them qua particular. They are doors that open out upon the infinite, points at which the Whole makes impact upon us. So religion is response in feeling to the infinite as it offers itself to us in and through the finite. I quote the famous paragraph from the Speeches, for it is with this initial phase in Schleiermacher's thinking that we are here concerned. The contemplation of the pious is the immediate consciousness of the universal existence of all finite things, in and through the Infinite, and of all temporal things in and through the Eternal. Religion is to seek this and find it in all that lives and moves, in all growth and change, in all doing and suffering. It is to have life and to know life in immediate feeling, only as such an existence in the Infinite and Eternal. Where this is found, religion is satisfied, where it hides itself there is for her unrest and anguish, extremity and death. Wherefore it is a life in the infinite nature of the Whole, in the One and in the All, having and possessing all things in God, and God in all.1 1

John Oman, Schleiermacher on Religion, 1893, p. 36.

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Rationalism and Romanticism The Romantic principle of individuality now receives a twofold application. In the first place, since each person is a unique individual, each will appreciate and respond to the universe in his own way. There will be as many ways to God as there are souls whom he has made. In the second place, each of the religions is an individual whole, an unique evaluation of the universe in feeling. So the common essence of religion is manifest in a rich variety of forms. Each religion is an apprehension of the Whole from a particular perspective; what other perspectives yield will not be absent from it, but will be subordinate within it. Or, to use other language, religion-as-such consists of a number of elements that can take on any pattern. Each positive religion is one such pattern, and in each some one element occupies a central and determining position. Each tends to select some one of the great relations of mankind to the Highest Being, and, in a definite way, make it the centre and refer to it all the others. ... By every formation of this kind one of the endless number of different views and different arrangements of the single elements, which are all possible and all require to be fully exhibited, is fully realized.1

From this it would seem to follow that all religions are equally true. Or rather, that the distinction between truth and falsehood does not apply to religions. Schleiermacher says as much. But we soon see that this refers, not at all to the actual religions, but only to the feeling-responses out of which they arise. All is immediately true in religion, for except immediately how could anything arise? But that only is immediate, which has not yet passed through the stage of idea, but has grown up merely in the feeling. All that is religious is good, for it is only religious as it expresses a common higher life.2

Doctrine is the product of reflection upon feeling, and as such may be mistaken. Hence any actual religion, Christianity included, will be a mixture of truth and error. 1

John Oman, Schleiermacher on Religion, 1893, p. 223. 57

2

Ibid. p. 54.

Christianity Among the Religions What then is the place of Christianity among the religions? We are told that it is 'the religion of religions', the positive religion that realizes, as no other does, what all religion is meant to be. If we ask where this religion is to be found, we are directed to Christ. He not merely enunciated the Christian idea, he embodied it. So doing, he created a religion. At the same time, he formed a school to continue it. But these two are not to be confused. 'He never maintained that he was the only mediator, the only one in whom his idea actualized itself.'1 The name 'Christian' may be given, it would seem, to anyone who thinks in terms of man's corruption and his redemption by God, even though he does not connect these with Christ. Precisely because Christianity is of this order, derived from Christ but not identical with him, because it sees all things, itself included, as shot through with human weakness yet sustained by divine power, it can face the future with confidence though without arrogance. As long as our age endures, nothing disadvantageous to Christianity can come forth, whether from the age or from Christianity itself, and from all strife and battle it must issue renewed and glorified.2

We might suppose this to imply that it will eventually displace the other religions. But this is not Schleiermacher's intention. As long as the world stands, we may expect that they will survive and flourish alongside our own. Indeed, new faiths may appear. For 'as nothing is more irreligious than to demand general uniformity in mankind, so nothing is more unchristian than to seek uniformity in religion'.8 So much for the Speeches. The conclusion is an indecisive one. The question is raised again in The Christian Faith. We meet there a new definition of the essence of religion. It lies now in 'the feeling of absolute dependence'. But the various religions are still regarded as species of one genus. 1 2

John Oman, Schleiermacher on Religion, 1893, p. 248. 3 Ibid. p. 267. Ibid. p. 252.

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Rationalism and Romanticism In every individual religion the God-consciousness which in itself remains the same everywhere on the same level, is attached to some relation of the self-consciousness in such an especial way that only thereby can it unite with other determinations of the self-consciousness; so that all other relations are subordinate to this one, and it communicates to all others its colour and its tone.1 Religions are classified as aesthetic and teleological, the former predominantly natural and the latter predominantly ethical. Islam, surprisingly enough, is classed as aesthetic because it enjoins submission to Allah's inscrutable will. What distinguishes Christianity is 'that in it everything is related to the redemption accomplished by Jesus of Nazareth'. That is to say, emphasis now passes from his 'idea' to his person and work. In Jesus the God-consciousness was entire and unbroken, as his life was sinless. He can redeem others because he does not himself need redemption. Therefore there can be no talk of other mediators along with him. Indeed, 'in comparison with him, everything which could otherwise be regarded as revelation again loses this character'.2 Christianity is therefore superior to all its rivals. One day it 'will be able to extend itself over the whole human race'. Not that it will supersede other faiths: it will bring them to fulfilment by taking up into itself whatever truth they contain. As it preserves today what was of permanent value in Hebrew faith and Greek wisdom, so it will be enriched eventually from the treasures of India and China. Then 'all religions will be visible in Christianity'.3 This carries with it another departure from the earlier position. Missionary activity is now permissible. For, while in the deepest sense there is but one religious communion to which each faith makes its contribution, at the same time, as far as the empirical religions are concerned, some are higher and others lower. They form a graded series, and it is the duty of those who stand higher to invite those who stand lower to cHmb 1 8

The Christian Faith, 1928, p. 47. Oman, op. cit. p. 108.

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2

Ibid. p. 63.

Christianity Among the Religions up and join them. They will not lose by so doing, for the new religion is hospitable to everything in the old that was of abiding worth. What is not justified is the impatience and intolerance that would sweep away the old entirely. He who commends his own religion to another should do so as one partner in the life of the spirit speaking to another. d. APPEAL TO REVELATION

Without an absolute man cannot live, and in religion he knows himself claimed by an absolute. Yet, when he looks out upon the variety of religions known to history, he finds no absolute. Each religion is relative, conditioned by a particular setting. This is the problem that has emerged. Schleiermacher has outlined a solution to it that will be filled in by Hegel. Granted that a hierarchy of religions can be conceived, it is then permissible to think that the highest in the series completes and fulfils all those below it, and that these, when they have discharged each its mission, are meant to lose themselves—and also to find themselves—in the one enduring religion. But before we consider this, we must turn aside to consider another approach to the problem, and that a distinctively Christian and Catholic one. Friedrich Schlegel had one great advantage over most of those we have considered hitherto, in that he possessed a firsthand knowledge of Indian language and literature. He learned Sanskrit while in Paris during the Napoleonic War, his teacher being an Englishman detained there by the outbreak of hostilities. His brother August Wilhelm caught the enthusiasm from him and held the first chair of Sanskrit in a German university. He translated the Gita into Latin and began, though he did not complete, an edition of the Ramayana. Friedrich Schlegel's philosophy of history falls within his Catholic period; it is therefore overtly Christian throughout. Christ is the centre of history in more than a chronological sense. What preceded was a preparation for him; what follows bears his impress even where he is rejected; and the future is hopeful just 60

Rationalism and Romanticism in so far as it promises a return to his guidance. World-history as a whole is governed by the departure, as far as the major portion of the race is concerned, from a primitive revelation, coupled with the preservation of this among the Hebrews and also, in fragmentary and mythological form, among some other peoples, till the advent of Christ and the new turn in the process that comes with him. Man is constituted man by the divine word, the communication from God that enables him to know and serve him and at the same time binds him to his fellows in moral opportunity and obligation. But already in Adam man lost the blessed relation to God in which he was meant to stand. This, however, belongs rather to the prelude to history than to history proper. The latter begins with the first rivalry, the first murder. Here Schlegel follows Augustine. History is the conflict between two cities, two states of mind, between the children of Seth and the children of Cain. This opposition and this discord—this hostile struggle between the two great divisions of the human race, forms the whole tenure of primitive history. When the moral harmony of man had once been deranged, and two opposite wills had sprung up within him, a divine will or a will seeking God, and a natural will or a will bent on sensible objects, passionate and ambitious, it is easy to conceive how mankind from their very origin must have diverged into two opposite paths.1 The two races, as they appear in the early phases of history, are the patriarchs, lovers of God and custodians of the ancient tradition and the giants and demigods of Scripture and myth, arrogant and hostile to God. The memory of this primal conflict has been preserved in every nation, in however fabulous a form. Here then is the yard-stick by which the various religions are to be measured. We must ask in each case how much it has preserved of the primitive revelation. After Israel, the first place is assigned to Zoroastrianism, which 1

Philosophy of History, 1846, p. 97. 61

Christianity Among the Religions deserves to rank next to the Christian faith and doctrine, as propounded in the Old Testament and developed and completed in the New: its severe truth and high moral tendency give it a decided superiority to all other Oriental systems.1 Zoroaster is not to be regarded as the founder of the religion; he did but hand on and recast a tradition of remote antiquity. India comes next. The rishis of the Vedas, Brahmins by birth, correspond to the Hebrew patriarchs. After Adam's reconciliation with God he handed on to Seth the truth and powers he had received, and the Brahmin caste, degenerate as it is today, springs from Seth's descendants by one line as a class of men 'chosen by God, and entirely devoted to his service'.2 In the belief in transmigration the memory of the Fall still works obscurely upon man. He knows himself so estranged from God that only long discipline and purgation can bring him back to him. The worst instance of the descent into superstition that charaterizes all history except that of the chosen people, is, however, China. Among the great nations of antiquity who stood the nearest or at least, very near, to the source of sacred tradition—the word of primitive revelation—the Chinese hold a very distinguished place; and many passages in their primitive history, many remarkable vestiges of eternal truth—the heritage of old thoughts—to be found in their ancient classical works, prove the originally high eminence of this people. But at a very early period, their science had taken a course completely erroneous, and even their language partly followed this direction, or at least assumed a very still and artificial character. Descending from one degree of political idolatry to a grade still lower, they have at last openly embraced a foreign superstition—a diabolical mimicry of Christianity, which emanated from India, has made Thibet its principal seat, prevails in China, and, widely diffused over the whole middle of Asia, reckons a greater number of followers than any other religion on the earth.3 1 2

Aesthetic and Miscellaneous Works, 1849, p. 485. 3 Philosophy of History, p. 150. Ibid. p. 137. 62

Rationalism and Romanticism Islam, of course, meets with unqualified condemnation. What else was possible in the case of a religion that represented for Schlegel not merely the loss of a primitive revelation, but the rejection of the full light of truth? Schlegel's voice is that of one crying in the wilderness. He thinks in terms of degeneration while his contemporaries were writing 'Progress' on their banner. The future lies with the idea of development, with explanation by the terminus ad quern rather than by the terminus a quo. So we come to Hegel.

63

V

The Way of the Absolute a. HEGEL

HEGEL'S starting-point was a vision of reality as one and spiritual. It both is such and becomes such. Indeed, it only is such in the process of becoming such, as it only becomes such because it eternally is such. Spirit is the origin, die way, and the goal of the supreme and all-inclusive adventure. What we first greet in its most abstract form as pure Being passes through transformation after transformation till it reveals itself in the end as the self-consciousness that is both Subject and Object, that than which nothing can be more concrete. Spirit can come to itself through a series of phases just because it is already present in each. And if we ask whether the development is historical, with phase succeeding phase in time, or logical, so that we could infer any one of the phases from what went before it, the answer is that both accounts are correct. It is in 'history comprehended conceptually' that Absolute Spirit comes into its own. The point at which this happens, at which the Absolute comes to awareness of itself and its journey hitherto, is man. He is that phase of the Absolute which apprehends the development. The pilgrim, as it were, reaches the point at which he sees the shrine towards which he travels and begins to understand that the pilgrimage has all the while been within himself. But, though the Absolute attains in man to knowledge of itself, that knowledge is not yet absolute. In art, it apprehends itself through senseobjects and therefore only obscurely. In religion it does so by representation, picture and image and symbol. Only in philosophy, 64

The Way of the Absolute that 'thinking upon thought' which Aristotle judged divine, is absolute knowledge reached. So the content is the same in philosophy and religion; the expression differs. Where, for example, religion speaks of God creating the world, philosophy describes how the Idea goes out of itself to become other than itself, that it may finally return to itself. On this view, the essence of religion can be defined in two ways—and these two are one. It is at once Spirit aware of itself in man and man aware of himself as spirit. These are what Hegel calls the moments of universality and particularity respectively in religion. They are reconciled in the third moment, that of worship. So religion can be described with equal truth as God coming to himself in man and as man coming to himself in God. He who worships knows himself to be one with God. 'Worship is thus, in fact, the eternal process by which the subject posits itself as identical with its essential being.'1 The centre of religion is the unio mystica. But this unity requires to be approached through the separation that preceded it. Man comes to himself in God because he has been reconciled to him, because the alienation between them has now been overcome. He sees in God the other who is at the same time himself. That is to say, he repudiates the empirical self that stood over against God as the finite over against the infinite, and apprehends God as the unity of finite and infinite. The final insight therefore is that God and man are one though they are not the same. For the Absolute only is through the relativities in which it comes to expression. It has been necessary to devote so much space to the general pattern of Hegel's thinking to make it clear that we have now to do with an exceptionally promising attempt to grapple with that problem of how to combine the relativities of history with the absolute of devotion which, once raised, cannot henceforth be set aside. To each movement in the self-development of Spirit there corresponds an awareness of this in accordance with the possibilities of that stage, in other words, a particular religion. 1

Philosophy of Religion, English and Foreign Philosophical Library, 1895, i. 70.

E

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Christianity Among the Religions Each of these is true in its place, and a higher stage contains a fuller truth than a lower. Yet none of them is the true religion. That only comes at the final stage, in the religion that takes up into itself and brings to fulfilment all that went before. Christianity therefore supersedes all other faiths because it justifies them. Each of them apprehended the unity of God and man to the extent that this was possible at its point in the process. What was obscurely grasped in them becomes actual in it. The stages through which religion passes are three in number. In the first Spirit is as it were asleep, in the second it wakes and moves, in the third it comes to full self-consciousness. For the religions of nature (those of China and India) God is substance and impersonal power, for those of spiritual individuality (Greece, Rome, and Israel) he is free and personal over against man, for the absolute religion (Christianity) he becomes man and so effects the reconciliation that makes God and man one. These stages are like the childhood, youth, and manhood of a person; as an adult he looks back and sees how in the earlier phases he was coming to himself without being fully aware of what was taking place. Each of the three groups again contains within itself three distinct religions or, in the last instance, the three forms under which God reveals himself, as Father, as Son, and as Spirit. Christianity is at once ideal and actual. It is both God's selfconsciousness and an institution within the world, both the last in the series of religions and the truth of all religions. As such, it is absolute. It is not possible that it should be surpassed. Beyond it, nothing more remains in the sphere of religion. Christianity is as it were the answer to the prayers offered by the religions, the fulfilment of their aspirations. It exposes their shortcomings only that it may demonstrate how even these were pointers to the truth it brings. It is also revealed. This must not be understood in the popular sense, as though it were a set of truths communicated to men by God. Revelation is its very nature. Now at last the religious spirit knows what it has been seeking down the ages. Now at last, to say the same thing in other words, God attains 66

The Way of the Absolute to full self-consciousness. 'The absolute religion is the revealed religion, the religion which has itself for its content, its fulness.'1 It is an imposing and splendid construction. But is it a convincing one? I shall have something to say on that in the sequel. Here it will suffice to borrow a leaf from Hegel's book and say that it was historically justified and therefore destined to be superseded. It bears the impress of a time when Europe had as yet only such contacts with and knowledge of the East as confirmed it in its own sense of superiority. It did not yet doubt that its standards were those by which all else should be judged, that its civilization represented the climax of historical development, though it could graciously admit that others were not without their value. But an obscure Private-dozent in Berlin was to launch against all this self confidence his counter-attack from the East. b. MYTH AND REVELATION

Before we turn to Schopenhauer, we can take time to consider how another representative of Absolute Idealism reached the same conclusion by a somewhat different path. It will not be necessary here to trace the development of Schelling's thought, or, as some would say, to follow the various aberrations in which he indulged. I shall confine myself to the Philosophic der Mythologie and the Philosophie der Offenbarung, both of which were published posthumously. There is evidence in both these works that he had taken pains to master the literature available on the various religions, both ancient and modern, as also that he was prepared at times to risk a judgment where he was not qualified to offer one. Extravagant and unconvincing as much of the detail in the former series of lectures is, it rendered great service by its insistence that myth is not to be dismissed as mere fantasythinking, but deserves to be taken seriously for the truth it yields. It is the work of mind, though not its deliberate creation. In mythical thinking, as in logical, there is commerce between 1

Philosophy of Religion, English and Foreign Philosophical Library, 1895, ii. 330. 67

Christianity Among the Religions subject and object. There is that in nature which can be grasped by conceptual thought, but there is that which lies deeper, to be expressed indeed in image and story, but in image and story as vehicles for truth. The mythological process has arisen in man independently of his wishes and thoughts. . . . Mythology is a natural, a necessary growth. . . . Mythology is essentially active and self-moving in accordance with an indwelling law. It is actually the highest human consciousness that is stirring in myth, and through the very contradictions in which it involves itself and which none the less it surmounts, it proves that it is something real, true, and necessary.1

As we should put it today, mythology is a product of the collective unconscious and therefore given, authoritative, and illuminating for the individual consciousness. The objects with which it deals belong to the reality of the psyche. This view of myth was nothing short of epoch-making. Myth is neither to be scouted as priestly fiction nor evaporated into general moral principles. Nor are the figures that appear in it mere personifications of natural forces. For primitive peoples do not project their own mental states upon a dead nature, they experience nature as a realm of forces akin to themselves. They do not, as we do, reduce nature to a complex of things while reserving for themselves what is felt about things. That the sky lowers and the rock menaces are for them qualities of the sky and the rock. Schelling puts it that divine potencies are at work in nature, so that natural religion in the proper sense of the term will be man's encounter with these forces in nature and in himself. The original unity of the divine life includes within itself the interaction of three potencies. They set up in God a condition of unrest from which he escapes by externalizing them in the creation of the world. In man these potencies attain to equilibrium, yet the maintenance of that equilibrium depends thereafter on his 1

Quoted in Cassirer, The Problem of Knowledge, Oxford University Press, 1950, p. 297.

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The Way of the Absolute freedom, and in freedom he chooses to disturb it. So once again the condition of 'unblessedness' appears in the divine life. The process must therefore begin all over again. God must come to his own once more, this time in the human race and in particular in its religious development. Here we see repeated in time the process that belongs to God's eternity. The religious development of the race is at the same time a theogony, the coming to be of God as immanent in his creation. The religions of the world in their successive stages yield a history of divine revelation only to be understood out of the depths of God's own being. Thus Schelling has broken entirely with the notion of natural religion as a set of general truths and reached an appreciation of it as experience, encounter with the divine. There is a dealing of God with man in all the history of the race, as all our search for him falls within the context of his self-revelation. In the second of the two works with which we are concerned, he makes clear that revelation is not another term for discovery. It is not the crown of man's development nor the flower of his religious experiences. It is something new. Man cannot give it to himself or find it for himself. He must receive it from God. Its content is not to be known in advance, it cannot even be inferred from the mythological process that preceded it. It is the self-disclosure of God in freedom as personal. It is beyond reason yet not irrational. To speak of it as 'the education of the human race' is quite inadequate. For man needs more than education, he needs reconciliation. This revelation brings to him, revelation as event. The characteristic element which requires to be explained is just the historical. The principal content of Christianity is just Christ himself; not what he said, but what he is and did. Christianity is not, in the first place, a doctrine; it is a fact, something objective, and the doctrine can never be anything but the expression of this^art.1 Unfortunately, Schelling's practice did not accord with his profession. He got entangled in a morass of Gnostic theosophy. When he tells us that his aim is not 'to construct a speculative 1

Quoted in Pfleiderer, Philosophy of Religion, 1897, ii. 16.

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Christianity Among the Religions dogmatic system', but 'to explain Christianity out of its higher historical context', we wonder where the difference Hes. What then has Schelling to say on the relation between Christianity and other religions? He is aware of the importance of the question in view of increasing contact between East and West, as also of its bearing on the missionary enterprise. The missionary, he tells us, fails because he dismisses heathenism as false and imposes in its place doctrinal formulations far beyond the grasp of the convert. Christ should be presented, not as the negation of the great ethnic faiths, but as their fulfilment. The coming of Christ is that wholly new event—here justice is done to what is meant by revelation—that at once exposes the error in what went before and satisfies its aspirations. A religion that was not in being from the origin of the world and throughout all times cannot be the true one. Christianity must therefore have been present in heathenism also; the latter has in substance the same content. Or, as I put the same thought earlier: Christ was in heathenism—only not as Christ. That is what I meant by saying 'in substance' and not 'in his truth'.1

Christ, that is to say, was present in every age to every race, but he was not yet known as such. Heathenism is related to Christianity as law to gospel, reason to faith, nature to grace. The heathen is like a blind man, feeling the sun's warmth but not seeing the sun itself. Christ was within heathenism as natural potency but not yet as personal principle. We detect the influence of the German mystics, an influence that was at work already in Hegel but is much more evident in Schelling. We are reminded of Sebastian Franck. Christ is 'the light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world'. There is the possibility here of an advance on Hegel's position, inasmuch as we can envisage the fulfilment of human hopes in a person and not merely in an idea. We shall have to return in due course to this theme of the Christ who is at work in the world under two forms, latent in one and manifest in the other. 1

Werke, iv/2. 77. 70

VI

Counter-attack from the East a. THE EAST ARRIVES

SCHOPENHAUER represents a turning-point in the relation between Western and Eastern thought. Hitherto, the representatives of the former did not for a moment doubt the superiority of their heritage or their right to judge the rest of the world by their standards. Now, however, a thinker appears who cites the Vedas equally with Plato, confirms by appeal to the Buddhist scriptures what he learned from Kant, and regards the true in Christianity as substantially identical with what it has in common with Hinduism and Buddhism, the false as those points at which it differs from them. The book that captivated him was AnquetU Hyacinthe Du Perron's translation of the Upanishads. He spoke of the 'profound, lofty, and original thoughts' to be found on every page of this, as of the 'high and holy seriousness' that characterized it as a whole. It is the most rewarding and the most elevating reading (the original excepted) the world has to offer. It has been the consolation of my life and will be my consolation when I come to die.1

Du Perron (1731-1805) enlisted as a private soldier for service in India to enable him to study Oriental languages there. Friends intervened to secure him a post at Pondicherry, and he learned Persian, Sanskrit, Zend, and Pehlevi there and elsewhere in India. Returning to Europe, he published in 1771 a translation 1

Parerga unJ Paralipomena, 1888, ii. 427. 71

Christianity Among the Religions of the Zend Avesta, to be followed in 1801-2 by a Latin rendering of the Upanishads. This was made, not from the Sanskrit original, but from two manuscripts of the Persian version by Prince Bara Shukoh, brother of Aurengzeb. The title of the book is Oupnek'hat (id est9 Secretum Tegendum), and the original is described as opus ipsa in India rarissimum. It runs to two volumes, each of more than 800 pages. The first volume has a preface, giving some account of how die translation came to be made. Then follow quotations, principally from classical and Indian authors, in support of the author's claim that the sacred books of the various ancient peoples agree in affirming one spiritual principle behind the universe. After this comes a collection of passages from Christian authors, beginning with Synesius of Gyrene, in which ideas akin to those in the Upanishads are found. Jewish writers are also laid under contribution. His conclusion is that Tor the wise man there is nothing new; it is simply that one thing is earlier and another later. Nothing is absolutely bad; what is evil either preserves a trace of the good or contains some germ of it'.1 Six Upanishads are then translated and the rest of the volume—amounting to one half —is given over to notes and emendations plus various supplements, a veritable farrago of learning such as suited the taste of those days. The second volume is of the same miscellaneous character and brings the number of Upanishads up to fifty. The text is a mixture of Latin, Persian, and Sanskrit, with the Greek definite article thrown in from time to time. That Schopenhauer was able to learn so much from a hotchpotch of this kind is amazing. He could scarcely have done so without the guidance of scholars such as Jones and Colebrooke.2 Yet, though he had no knowledge of Sanskrit, he was sufficiently enamoured of Du Perron's work to judge all subsequent translations far inferior. 1

Op. cit. i. p. cix. Sir William Jones (1746-94), translated Sakantula and The Laws of Manu. Thomas Henry Colebrooke (1765-1837), 'the real founder of Indian philology and archaeology* (Winternitz). 2

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Counter-attack from the East It is my fixed conviction that a genuine knowledge of the Upanishads and therefore of the true and esocteric dogmatic of the Vedas is up to now obtainable only through the Oupnekhat; one can read through the other translations and have no idea what it is all about.1

b. THE WORLD AS WILL

The attraction of Indian thought for Schopenhauer was that it provided a sanction for the metaphysic he derived from Plato and Kant. He could cite a more venerable authority than either Greece or Germany. For, like Plato and Kant, Schopenhauer reduces the world of everyday experience to the status of mere appearance. That which truly is, is not to be found there. Instead, we are fobbed off with a flux of phenomena, banished to a realm of which no knowledge is possible but only opinion. Nothing, says Kant, can be known to us save as it has first been operated upon by the mind. Nothing here below, Plato tells us, is more than a copy and shadow of that other world which alone is, while everything with us merely becomes. This world is illusion and such knowledge as it yields were better termed opinion. So stated, what could be nearer to the Indian concept of Maya? Take, for example, the following quotation: The worlds gained as a result of action, from the plane of Brahma to that of the lowest organism, whether subtle or gross, belong to samsara, or the relative universe. Like seed and tree, these worlds are bound by the law of cause and effect and are mutually related. They are beset with a hundred thousand troubles and are insubstantial, like the pith of a plantain tree. They are illusory, like objects conjured up by magic, like the water of a mirage, like a castle in the air, or like dreams. They are unstable, like foam and bubbles.2 How eagerly Schopenhauer fastens on this support! 1 2

Parerga etc. ii. 428. Nikhilananda, The Upanishads, London: Phoenix House, 1951, pp. 276 f.

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Christianity Among the Religions The Vedas and Puranas have no better simile than a dream for the whole knowledge of the actual world, which they call the web of Maya, and they use none more frequently.1

So much for the phenomenal world. What then of the noumenal? For Schopenhauer, the reality behind appearances in one and of the nature of will. The will covers inanimate as well as animate nature; it is the blind, restless, insatiable, driving force of which everything in time and space is but the appearance. The prindpium individuationis, the mistaken belief that each individual existent is a distinct entity with full claim to reality—this is the snare of Maya. And that all life is one—is not this the message of the East? Again and again Schopenhauer reverts to the Upanishads with their slogan of'the one and all'. To be sure, the reality there is not will; rather does it lie beyond all categories. In Schopenhauer the activism of the West leagues itself with the monism of the East. He is fascinated by the formula in which the ultimate insight comes to expression: "That art thou.' We might equate the will in Schopenhauer with the karma of Hinayana Buddhism, for this is the driving-force that urges men on from desire to desire, from life to life, and therefore leaves them always restless and unhappy. Granted such a metaphysic, the ethic to be deduced from it is clear. Egoism is evil, altruism good. The sin of sins is to repudiate the basic unity of things, this solidarity of oneself with all that lives and breathes, and to assert one's own claims at the expense of others. Here accordingly Schopenhauer joins hands with Buddhism. Boundless compassion for all living beings is the surest and most certain guarantee of pure moral conduct, and needs no casuistry. Whoever is filled with it will assuredly injure no one, do harm to no one, encroach on no man's rights; he will rather have regard for every one, forgive every one, help every one as far as he can, and all his actions will bear die stamp of justice and loving-kindness.2 1

The World as Will and Idea, London: Roudedge & Kegan Paul, 1906, i. 21. The Basis of Morality, trans. A. B. Bullock, London: Allen & Unwin, pp. 213 f. 2

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Counter-attack from the East The good man identifies himself with his fellows, because he is in fact one with them and not the separate individual he once imagined himself to be. The unity of compassion is grounded in the unity of being. Ordinarily, we divide mankind into a vast number of individuals, each with his claims and counter-claims, and among these we naturally give precedence to ourselves. Hence we seek frantically for what will promote our happiness, we envy others, we take offence at what they say or do, and so on. In all this, we are victims of the illusion of multiplicity, we take to be separate and conflicting things what are in reality but so many appearance of the one and all. The possibility of unselfish conduct arises only when we awake from this dream to realize that you and I are not different, we are ultimately one. I love my neighbour because I realize that in the last resort he is myself in disguise. How, otherwise and metaphysically, are we to account for even the smallest offering of alms made with absolutely no other object than that of lessening the want which afflicts a fellow-creature? Such an act is only conceivable, only possible, in so far as the giver knows that it is his very self which stands before him, clad in the garments of suffering; in other words, so far as he recognises the essential part of his own being, under a form not his own.1 What unites the ethic to the metaphysic is, we now see, a judgment of value. Buddhism and Schopenhauer join in asserting that 'all life is suffering'. If we, our fellows, and the world in which we live are but so many appearances of an unconscious, insatiable will, then we are indeed the sport of gods, if not of a power even less responsible. Such happiness as we enjoy is a brief respite snatched from pain, and our enjoyment of it is vitiated by the realization that pain will soon return, and in a still worse form. The instruction which his life offers to every one consists, as a whole, in this, that the objects of his desire continually delude, waver, and fall, 1

The Basis of Morality, trans. A. B. Bullock, London: Allen & Unwin, p. 278. 75

Christianity Among the Religions and accordingly bring more misery than joy, till at last the whole foundation upon which they all stand gives way.1 This is indeed 'the worst of all possible worlds'. For 'it is so arranged as to be able to maintain itself with great difficulty; but if it were a little worse, it could no longer maintain itself'.2 The human predicament being so desperate, the one question worth asking is: What must I do to be saved? Moral conduct provides at least a means of alleviating this immense suffering. But it is never more than a palliative. There are ways of escape open to some, notably art, which withdraws us from participation in the tragedy of life and enables us for a brief while to contemplate it as disinterested spectators. But this is no more than an occasional consolation. Salvation is possible for him only who can deny and destroy the will. So Buddha preached long ago, and the West must go to school with him. True, Christendom has had its saints, its mystics, and its ascetics. But what is their spiritual heroism in comparison with that of the East? Our most ardent deniers of the will do not, like Indian devotees, throw themselves over precipices, bury themselves alive, or fling themselves beneath the car of Juggernaut in an ecstasy of liberation. What is the goal to be reached by denial of the will? It is the Nirvana of the Buddhist. But how define this? Is it annihilation? Or is it bliss unspeakable? Schopenhauer would say that all depends upon the perspective from which it is viewed. For us who cling to life, the prospect appals. We see it as extinction, the loss of everything to which we cling so eagerly. But if we could call back for a moment those who have actually attained, how different their language would be! We can see as much from the serenity, the purity and calm that are characteristic of them, wherever in tie world they appear and whatever religion they profess. They would speak of emancipation, of release from the urgencies of time and the constrictions of space, of a condition no words can describe, because in it all words have been abolished. 1

2

The World, etc. iii. 384. 76

Ibid. in. 395.

Counter-attack from the East C. EX ORIENTE LUX

It is easy from all this to guess how Schopenhauer will judge Christianity. The Indian religions provide him with a standard; that in Christianity which agrees with them will be true, where it departs from them it will be in error. And he understands this even in the sense of historical derivation. In religion, as in philosophy, all light is from the East. So the New Testament. . . must be in some way traceable to an Indian source: its ethical system, its ascetic view of morality, its pessimism, and its Avatar, are all thoroughly Indian.1

The world-view of the Gospels, on this showing, is that of the Upanishads and the Dhammapada: a deep sense of the misery of the world, suffering as the universal inescapable lot, and renunciation as the sole way of salvation. The command of Jesus to the rich young ruler, 'Sell all that thou hast and give to the poor', might well have come from Buddha. To be sure, the Christianity of today has come to terms with the world. But in so doing it has been false to its origins. But the corruption of Christianity is no recent event. In fact, it is tainted at the source. The Jewish strain in Christianity is responsible for all the evil in it. For Judaism was an optimistic religion; it pronounced the world of nature good and gave its blessing to human life. Its morality was optimistic: 'Increase and multiply!' The material world is real and God discloses himself through history. In all these respects, it is the antithesis of Indian spirituality. Historical Christianity is the result of the fusion of two creeds that originally had nothing in common. The Old Testament is Schopenhauer's bete noire. The superiority of the Oriental religions lies in the fact that they are not contaminated by its absurd belief in the devil, its denial of rights to animals, and its childish appeal to history. Though the New Testament may appear to agree with the Old on such points, the fact rather is 1

Complete Essays, London: Allen & Unwin, iii, 92. 77

Christianity Among the Religions that the doctrines of the Old Testament arc rectified and their meaning changed by those of the New, so that, in the most important and essential matters, an agreement is brought about between them and the old religions of India. Everything which is true in Christianity may also be found in Brahmanism and Buddhism.1 To this repudiation of the Old Testament there is, however, one exception. The story in Genesis iii is the one suggestion in the Old Testament that the world is what Schopenhauer sees it to be, a vale of tears and misery. The sole thing that reconciles me to the Old Testament is the story of the Fall. In my eyes, it is the only metaphysical truth in that book, even though it appears in the form of an allegory. There seems to me no better explanation of our existence than that it is the result of some false step, some sin of which we are paying the penalty.2 To be sure, India has a better explanation of this. The primal fault was not man's but God's! Brahma is said to have produced the world by a kind of fall or mistake; and in order to atone for his folly, is bound to remain in it himself till he works out its redemption. As an account of the origin of things, that is admirable !3 To many Western minds, Indian religion is burdened by one great absurdity, its doctrine of metempsychosis. How does Schopenhauer meet this objection? He has two answers. The first, as he himself points out, has affinities with the denial in Hinayana of any substantial and permanent self. The individual is but an appearance under some form of the all-pervading will. At death, what happens is that the will discards one appearance to assume another. Since the intellect perishes with the body, there is continuity of life without continuity of memory. 1 2

Complete Essays, London: Allen & Unwin, iii. 94. 3 Ibid. v. 13 f. Ibid. v. 11 £

7«

Counter-attack from the East These constant new births, therefore, constitute the succession of the life-dreams of a will which in itself is indestructible, until, instructed and improved by so much and so various successive knowledge in a constantly new form, it abolishes or abrogates itself.1 The second reply to the objector is that metempsychosis is a mythological version of what is taught in the Upanishads—that all life is one and that while apparently doer and sufferer are different persons they are ultimately the same. The West has its parallel mythology in the Christian dogma of original sin. So Hegel's grandiose demonstration of Christianity as the absolute religion is swept aside. It must begin with shame to take a lower place among the religions than those that derive from India. d. REVISION The irrationalism of Schopenhauer meant a decisive break with the Hegelian tradition. He would construct no system into which each religion neatly fitted. Nor, indeed, was he interested in religions other than those of India. His follower, Hartmann, went back to Hegel, in part because wider interests compelled a more comprehensive treatment. Between Schopenhauer and Hartmann the situation had been changed radically by the emergence of the science of religion, a new and objective approach with which the name of Max Miiller will always be connected. The aim was now not to formulate conclusions but to amass knowledge. The sacred books of the East must be studied and translated, its civilizations understood from within, and judgment resolutely postponed till the facts are in. For the purposes of the new science, the presupposition must be that all religions have equal rights. The student of Comparative Theology therefore can claim no privilege, no exceptional position of any kind, for his own religion, 1

The World, etc. iii. 300. 79

Christianity Among the Religions whatever that religion may be. For his purposes all religions are natural and historical.1 As a believer, of course, the same person may assert that his own religion is superior or all-inclusive, and Max Miiller himself could speak thus of his own undogmatic version of Christianity. But a confession of faith is not of the same order as a scientific conclusion. In the light of the new investigations, it became clear how slender was the basis for the judgments passed by the philosophers. In the first volume of the Gifford Lectures, Max Miiller tells how, as a student at Berlin, he attended Schelling's lectures on mythology and found that they 'opened many new views' to his mind. But he was aware, from his study of the Oriental languages, how faulty Schelling's information was on many points and knew him well enough to tell him so. At his request he translated for him some of the Upanishads. When he came to England later, it was with warm commendations from Schelling. Miiller tells also of a conversation with Schopenhauer in Frankfort, in which he tried in vain to convince him that a study of the Vedas was necessary if one wished to understand the Upanishads. The philosopher rated them as so much 'priestly rubbish'.2 Precisely because he was open to the new knowledge, Hartmann aspired to renew the attempt of Hegel to trace the development of the religious consciousness as an aspiration after the Absolute. To begin with it is embedded in nature. The gods are powers of nature and man worships them because he seeks from them the fulfilment of hopes and desires that are still of the order of nature. But with increasing rationalization and socialization the gods become detached from nature and achieve a measure of spirituality. In Greece and Rome supremely, they take on human form, are organized after the pattern of human society, and take their places within a theology that is designed to systematize them under a single head. This is the highest stage that naturalism 1 2

Natural Religion, London: Longmans Green & Co., 1889, 52. Ibid. pp. 17 £ 80

Counter-attack from the East can reach, and it now breaks down under its inner contradictions, to make way for a higher form of religion, supranaturalism. This branches out in two directions, one monist and the other theist. The first, in India, repudiates naturalism negatively by reducing the world to illusion over against an absolute principle. The second, in Israel, repudiates it positively by enthroning an absolute personal God as its Creator and Lord. For monism, man must be his own saviour, for theism he is dependent on God. The conclusion of the argument is not difficult to foresee. The final truth, which is at the same time, the absolute religion, will transcend this opposition, while preserving the truth in each type. Hartmann calls this 'concrete monism', which is the name he gives to his own philosophy. The Indian religions were abstract, surrendering the world and man to illusion so that man might find unity with God as the reality beyond this. The theistic religions left God over against man as person against person, so that the two could be related only through some form of mediation. One purchased unity with God by making it impossible to have a relation to him; the other established a relation by making unity impossible. We look for a coming world-religion that will avoid both mistakes, giving us at the same time a real relation and a genuine unity. Such a religion does not need to be constructed de nova. If the Christianity of the churches and the creeds is far from it, it is present already in germ among the mystics. It derives from John rather than Paul; in it the Spirit is central and Christ himself is assimilated thereto. And the Spirit is both immanent and transcendent. All men participate in it, yet in none is it fully present. It is therefore transcendent enough for a religious relation to be possible, and immanent enough for that relation to be one of unity. The Spirit is the Atman of India and the God of the West. Such a religion will not recognize the distinction between man's faith and God's grace, man's reason and God's revelation. Nor will there be any distinction between man's suffering and God's, man's redemption and God's. For F 81

Christianity Among the Religions the only God who can draw near to the human heart is a God who is unhappy, who suffers like him and like him needs redemption, but who at the same time bears an infinitely heavier burden of suffering than petty man does.1

The future lies, therefore, in a synthesis of East and West, but in this synthesis Christianity will be the senior partner. In his Grundriss der Religionsphilosophie Hartmann states this clearly. Schopenhauer made Indian religion absolute, as Hegel did Christianity. Both are mistaken. These represent two great streams of religious development, each of which has its own rights but the Christian stream has flowed onwards while the Indian has stagnated. Hence the next advance will come from the West rather than the East, with both indeed making their contributions to this, but with the Christian contribution the decisive one.2 1 2

Grundriss der ethischen Prinzipienlehre, 1909, p. 216. Grundriss der Religionsphilosophie, 1909, p. x.

82

VII

The Turn of the Century a. HISTORICAL RELATIVISM

THE beginning of the twentieth century marks a turning-point in the discussion we are following, and that for several reasons. In the first place, the results of historical criticism as applied to the New Testament equally with the Old had become common knowledge for the educated person, especially in Germany. In the second place, the horizon of such a person was now wider than ever before: his security even was threatened by a China in revolt and a modernized Japan. Thirdly, the East, thanks to the rise of modern universities in India and Japan, was producing interpreters of its ancient traditions schooled in Western techniques and using these for their apologetic. The world had undergone an unprecedented expansion and it was no longer clear that its centre remained in Europe. The assumption with which the West had hitherto operated, the assumption that civilization and history were the prerogative of the Mediterranean basin, was no longer tenable. Were our values not universal after all? Was our Christianity merely provincial? To be sure, the new mentality was not entirely of recent growth. It was but the latest phase in that historical consciousness so distinctive of the nineteenth century. Was not one of its major triumphs the theory of evolution, for which even nature took on the features of historical process? Now the success of the historian was largely due to his suspension of moral judgment. He studied each episode in the past in the endeavour to learn just how and why it took the shape it did. The stranger such an 83

Christianity Among the Religions episode, the greater the effort of research, interest, and sympathy required. His part was that of a spectator of events, surveying the past in an impartial and objective fashion. So doing, he found that much that at first seemed reprehensible was in fact appropriate to, perhaps necessary in, the situation out of which it arose. Hegel taught the European mind to think of everything in the past as relative, though at the same time as ministering to an absolute that could be found in the beliefs and institutions of nineteenth-century Europe. Once such an absolute came to be questioned, historiography led on to Historismus, a condition of things in which all standards of judgment disappear. Each complex of circumstances observed by the historian is a mere wave in the universal flux, no sooner visible than it begins to be merged under the next wave. From this standpoint our religion is historically conditioned like every other. The differences between religions lose their sharpness. Each has its share of truth and none may claim a monopoly. The most we can hope for is what is true for us. It was with this problem that Eucken set himself to deal. The study of history does not terminate in frustration, though at a certain point it threatens to do so. What is needed is that we should carry our inquiry through to the end. When we do, we find that the historical process is more than a flux of events; there are islands in the stream, values that reveal themselves within the process while not in any sense its products. History shows us man claimed by that which transcends him. We can learn from the past only because there is a spiritual life in which we participate along with the men of the past. To be sure, on this view we shall cease to think of the eternal as bound up with a particular event in the past, and envisage it rather as offering itself to us in every moment of the temporal, though supremely disclosed in certain creative occasions. From this it follows that there can be no such thing as an absolute religion, just because nothing within the temporal process can be absolute. What appears in the world is as such historically conditioned; it bears the stamp of the period at which

84

The Turn of the Century it arose and will therefore never be more than partially adequate to the needs of other periods. The absolute religion is a reality, no doubt, but not a historical reality. It is to be found in, with, and under the historical religions, present in some to a higher degree than in others, but everywhere as alloy and nowhere as pure metal. So Eucken constructs what he calls 'characteristic religion' and allows to this the absolute status he denies to any of the historic creeds. It appears, in so far as we understand it, not as the exclusive possession of a particular historical religion, but as the common aim and common fundamental energy of all religion. These historical religions are considered by us not as irreconcilable opponents, but as co-workers in the great enterprise of the spiritual redemption of humanity. As certainly as there is one sole truth, there can be only one absolute religion, and this religion coincides entirely in no way with one of the historical religions. The historical religions are not the truth itself, but appearances of the truth and pathways to the truth.1

It is therefore possible to classify religions and to grade them as higher and lower. Eucken argues for the superiority of Christianity, while allowing that the form in which it actually appears stands in need of revision. The criterion he applies is that of the power a religion possesses to foster and enhance the spiritual life. Here what is particularly important is its ability to master the obstacles to that life and to turn them into means of growth. In other words, we ask how each religion copes with the perennial problems of evil, pain, guilt, and death. Religions fall into two main groups, the religions of law and the religions of redemption. The second group divides into two sub-groups, comprising the Indian religions and Christianity respectively. India seeks redemption from the world, Christianity from a wrong condition in it. One bids us eradicate the will to Hve, the other offers a renewal of life by God's forgiveness. Christianity has shown us how to 1

The Truth of Religion, London: Williams & Norgatc, 1911, pp. 411, 535,

536. 85

Christianity Among the Religions make outward suffering a means to inward gain, it has brought God and man together whereas elsewhere they are separated. It excels, also, by its more positive attitude to the world and its broadly human character. It can be universalized as no other religion can. The superiority of Christianity has thus been proved, at least to Eucken's satisfaction, but it is the superiority of an ideal or essential Christianity that differs markedly from what is found in the churches. Christianity is 'the highest embodiment of the absolute religion', 'the religion of religions', yet at the same time 'a fundamental revision of its traditional-existential form has become absolutely necessary'.1 We are not concerned with the form this revision is to assume, but only with the question: If we are to abandon the claim that Christianity is absolute, can we then maintain that it is superior, that it is the highest of all known religions? b. THE SUPERIORITY OF CHRISTIANITY

Troeltsch, in the earlier stages of his thought, was prepared to answer this question in the affirmative. Orthodoxy, he argues, set Christianity apart from all other religions as a supernatural irruption into history, attested by prophecy and miracle. This is no longer a tenable position, and Schleiermacher, Hegel, and Ritschl represent only so many vain attempts to resuscitate it. The only Christianity there has been, is, or ever will be, is one that is historically conditioned and therefore relative. The march of historical relativism may not be arrested at this point. Not that absolute values are surrendered. Troeltsch agrees with Eucken that they reveal themselves within history without being fully embodied therein. We can therefore continue to speak of an absolute religion only if we mean by this one that is located beyond history and is present within it merely as goal and ideal. But we need not for all that see in the history of religion only a welter of conflicting claims. We can reduce the number of 1

The Truth of Religion, London: Williams & Norgate, 1911, p. 539.

86

The Turn of the Century religions that compete for allegiance today to three or four great types, perhaps to two, the monist and the monotheist. For the purposes of study we may be neutral as between these, but life requires us to choose, and choice needs a standard to direct it. Where then is this standard to be found? Here Troeltsch follows Schleiermacher in assuming an 'essence* of religion common to all the religions, so that one among them will be the highest in which this common essence finds most adequate expression. But we shall not look for the essence in any principle of reason, nor shall we try to circumscribe it in any definition. It is present in the great religions as aim and endeavour. There is something they are all after, and in so far as we ourselves are religious persons we know from within the process what this is. Here we have the standard by which the truth in the various religions is to be measured, and it is an absolute standard. Our task is to identify the necessary in the conditioned, the eternal in the temporal. The application of this standard takes place, not in any dispassionate study of the major spiritual alternatives that confront us, but as we participate in their living encounter. We must enter into alien forms of faith in the effort to understand them, their power over others, and what they have to offer us. The process is one of experience and what issues from it will be in the nature of personal conviction. This has its objective ground in a careful survey of the relevant data, in unprejudiced appreciation of other forms of experience, and in conscientious weighing of the evidence; but in the kst resort the decision remains subjective and personal, a matter of inner decision.1

From such a survey and comparison Christianity emerges as the highest of the religions known to us. It has effected the passage from nature to spirit more drastically than any other. 'Among the great religions Christianity is the strongest and most concentrated form of personal religiosity.'2 We can confidently assert that 1

Die Absolutheit des Christentums, 1912, pp. 66 f. 8?

2

Ibid. p. 86.

Christianity Among the Religions whatever is true in it will remain throughout the future. Should the worst happen and our civilization go down in ruin, its revival would bring with it a renewal of Christianity. Thus far may we go and we need go no farther. It is not necessary to maintain that no higher revelation can ever be vouchsafed to us, or that all men are one day to become Christians. Such desires are born of anxieties the genuinely religious spirit does not share. It is enough that we live by the truth given to us. This conclusion, of course, rests on what Troeltsch calls 'the fine point of personal conviction*. Is there no train of reasoning that can fortify the conviction in question? Troeltsch thinks there is, and he finds it by comparing the different ways in which each religion claims to be absolute. For each religion makes a naive claim to this effect, inasmuch as it offers itself as the way of salvation and not as one among several. When its adherents find that others also use the same language, they put forward for their own religion a reflective and sophisticated claim, advancing arguments to demonstrate its superiority. It then becomes possible to compare these arguments and therefore the claims that rest upon them. When we do so, we see reason to regard the Christian claim as better supported than the others. For here we have a religion that is universal and spiritual, with a succession of prophets culminating in Jesus, and authenticating itself by its power to reveal God and redeem men. In the last resort, the Christian gospel has its roots in the profound and mysterious relation of Jesus to God as Son to Father. In this, we may be sure, we have the highest that has yet been reached. As we follow Christ, we set our feet upon the path that leads, better than any other, to the absolute truth that transcends all the forms under which it is apprehended. Christianity possesses the highest degree of validity among all the historical religions we are able to examine. We shall not wish to become Jews, nor Zoroastrians, nor Mohammedans, nor again Confucianists nor Buddhists. We shall rather strive continually to bring our Christianity into harmony with the changing conditions of life, and to bring its 88

The Turn of the Century human and divine potentialities to the fullest possible fruition. It is the loftiest and most spiritual revelation of which we have any knowledge. It has the highest validity. Let that suffice.1

Such was Troeltsch's position when he wrote his Die Absolutheit des Christentums (1902). C. SECOND THOUGHTS

Twenty years later, when Troeltsch came to take up again the theme developed in Die Absolutheit des Christentums, he decided that the treatment he had then given it needed to be modified at two important points. In the first place, he had come to rate the principle of individuality even more highly. Historical relativism was not to be combated as easily as he had once supposed. Perhaps even science and logic were as conditioned, as much the products of a particular civilization as its moral standards or its art-forms. Here we can detect the influence of Spengler upon him. The universal law of history consists precisely in this, that the Divine Reason, or the Divine Life, within history, constantly manifests itself in always-new and always-peculiar individualisations—and hence that its tendency is not towards unity or universality at all, but rather towards the fulfilment of the highest potentialities of each separate department of life. It is this kw which, beyond all else, makes it quite impossible to characterise Christianity as the reconciliation and goal of all the forces of history, or indeed to regard it as anything else than an historical individuality.2

In the second place, his further studies in Christian social ethics showed him that there is no such thing as Christianity simpliciter, but only a series of historically conditioned forms of that religion. The gulf between it and others had therefore begun to contract, and he came to see that, on grounds of personal conviction, their 1 2

Christian Thought, University of London Press, 1923, p. 21. Ibid. p. 14.

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Christianity Among the Religions adherents had as much right to judge them to be superior as he had to give Christianity this place. For—and this is the point of supreme importance—the great religions have entered so deeply into the life and thought of those peoples with whom they are associated that the very standards with which the latter operate are derived therefrom. We find Christianity superior because it ascribes positive value to the world and history, stresses action, and sets a high value on the individual personality. But these are Western standards and they are largely Christian in origin. Our European conceptions of personality and its eternal, divine right, and of progress towards a kingdom of the spirit and of God, our enormous capacity for expansion and for the interconnection of spiritual and temporal, our whole social order, our science, our art— all these rest, whether we know it or not, upon the basis of this deorientalised Christianity.1

We are guilty of the same fallacy as when we rate certain peoples as lower than ourselves in the scale of intelligence because they score badly in tests that assume familiarity with our urban civilization and its techniques. Behind us in Europe today lie centuries of interaction between secular and Christian ideals and forces. Our argument that Christianity is higher than other religions is nothing more than an assertion that our civilization is higher than others. There is nothing objective in such a judgment: it is the mere self-flattery of a provincial mind. We get out of the conclusion only what we put into the premisses. An Indian may claim that Hinduism is superior with equal force, and with as little force, because he will employ a criterion that is largely the work of Hinduism. There is no neutral or impartial standpoint from which one can assess anything so all-pervading as a great religion. Do not suppose that it will help to ask an atheist for his opinion. If he is of die West, then, as the case of Nietsche shows, he will be a 'Christian atheist'. Of the religions therefore we must say that 1

Christian Thought, University of London Press, 1923, pp. 24 f% 90

The Turn of the Century the question of their several relative values will never be capable of objective determination, since every proof thereof will presuppose the special characteristics of the civilisation in which it arises.1 Of Christianity we must be content to say: It is God's countenance as revealed to us; it is the way in which, being what we are, we receive, and react to, the revelation of God. It is binding upon us, and it brings us deliverance. It is final and unconditional for us, because we have nothing else, and because in what we have we can recognise the accents of the divine voice.2 We may not therefore look for the triumph of one religion over the rest, but for fruitful co-operation between them. For it is clearly the will of God that others should see an aspect of his countenance that is hidden from us. The great religions might indeed be described as crystallisations of the thought of great races, as these races are themselves crystallisations of the various biological and anthropological forms. There can be no conversion or transformation of one into the other, but only a measure of agreement and of mutual understanding.3 Thus historical relativism registers its triumph. d. CATHOLIC COMMENT

Of the many criticisms of Troeltsch, the one that perhaps most deserves notice is Max Scheler's. The philosopher was then in his Catholic phase, and his Catholicism gave him a point of view from which Troeltsch's difficulties simply did not arise. He argues that neither positivism nor Protestantism can do justice to the question at issue. The former has a neat evolutionary scheme according to which the higher religions develop out of the lower, and the lower out of such primitive types of thinking as animism 1 2

Christian Thought, University of London Press, 1923, p. 33. 3 Ibid. p. 26. Ibid. p. 29 £ 91

Christianity Among the Religions and magic. In this enlightened century, we can dispense with any kind of religion, since in science we have a much more reliable guide! What is this, Scheler asks, but the stupid self-glorification of Western man, the bourgeois who imagines himself the climax of history? On the other hand, Protestant theology made the initial mistake of narrowing down God's dealing with the race to a single channel, and has actually denied any knowledge of him apart from Jesus Christ. Hence the effort of liberal theologians such as Troeltsch, embarrassed by the new knowledge the science of religion gives us, to save at least some scrap of 'absoluteness' for Christianity. The Catholic is spared any such anxiety. For was he not taught to think of Plato and Aristotle as witnesses to the truth? The nonChristian religions may well contain within them germs of that which comes to fruition in Christianity. It is indeed one of the principles of the Church that truth is to be respected even where it is inadequately expressed or mixed with error. For example, when the Chinese revere Heaven, what they do is not lightly to be condemned. True, they worship as God what is really only his ordinance, the moral world-order he maintains. But is he not himself present in that? Granted the principle of a primitive revelation, it is possible to combine the finality of the Christian faith with a glad recognition of the rektive truth of what falls outside this. All that is needed is to extend this approach to the wealth of material now at our disposal, and here anthropologists like Andrew Lang and P. W. Schmidt have shown us the way.1 A similar judgment is to be found in Von Hiigel: We religious men will have to develop, as part of our religion, a sense, not simply of the error and evil, but also of the truth and the good, in any and every man's religion. We will have to realise, with Cardinal John de Lugo, S.J. (who died in 1660), that the members of the various Christian sects, of the Jewish and Mohammedan communions, and of the non-Christian philosophies, who achieved and achieve their salvation, did and do so in general simply by God's grace aiding their 1

Vom Ewigen im Menschen, 1933, pp. 716 ff. 92

The Turn of the Century good faith instinctively to concentrate itself upon, and to practise, those elements in the cultus and teaching of their respective sect, communion or philosophy, which are true and good and originally revealed by God. And, finally, we religious men, especially we Catholic Christians, will indeed never drop the noble truth and ideal of a universal unity of cultus and belief, of one single world-wide Church, but we will conceive this our deathless faith in religious unity as being solidly realisable only if we are able and glad to recognise the rudimentary, fragmentary, relative, paedagogic truth and worth in religions other than our own—a worth which, as regards at least Judaism and Hellenism, the Roman Church has never ceased to practise and proclaim.1 One can find equally liberal statements in the work of a devout historian like Rene Grousset. The Catholic does not need to make an exclusive claim for his faith. A certain natural knowledge of God, fragments of a primitive revelation, grace that comes to the help of every sincere seeker—these combine to enable him to recognize elements of truth in every religion that has won men's allegiance. It is not out of the question for him that this preparatio evangelica should include Confucius and Buddha as well as Plato and Aristotle. But there are distinct limits to this apparent liberalism. The truth in the non-Christian religions is expressly said to be 'rudimentary, fragmentary, relative, paedagogic' only. Scheler's criticism of Troeltsch therefore misses the point. It was because the latter saw so clearly that the non-Christian religions cannot be reduced in this way to mere handmaids of the Church that he raised the question how we, as Christians, are to regard them and how, in the light of what we know of them, we are to regard our own faith. 1

Essays and Addresses in the Philosophy of Religion, London: J, M. Dent & Sons, 1921-26, i. 63.

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VIII

Philosophy in East and West Tms chapter and the next are meant to serve as connecting links between the historical portion of this study and the constructive section. Here I propose to consider how East and West differ in the presuppositions that govern everyday thought and action. Of course, one must bear in mind the complexity of both traditions. The East does not present us with a single point of view consistently developed. India and China are sometimes poles apart, with Japan as the exception that proves the rule. India has its six schools of philosophy, and we credit ancient China with three, the Confucian, the Legalist, and the Quietist. Again, two periods that are chronologically far apart may be psychologically and culturally akin. There are aspects of Indian thought that are alien to the modern Western mind but would have been appreciated at once by a man of the Middle Ages. Finally, the East equally with the West is in a state of turmoil; it is changing before our eyes, so that statements that were true ten years ago are now false. The most that anyone can make bold to offer is therefore a certain number of general contrasts, and even there we must bear in mind that what we see in another culture will not be identical with what those see who stand within it. a. EXPERIENCE AND

INTERPRETATION

I begin with F. S. C. Northrop's Meeting of East and West, confining myself to what in it is relevant to die present study. His thesis is that the East sets out from experience as immediate 94

Philosophy in East and West awareness, while the West is concerned to handle experience by conceptual interpretation, and that therefore each, ought to learn from the other. It may be best to state this in his own words: The Oriental portion of the world has concentrated its attention upon the nature of all things in their emotional and aesthetic, purely empirical and positivistic immediacy. It has tended to take as the sum total of the nature of things that totality of immediately apprehended fact which in this text has been termed the differentiated aesthetic continuum. Whereas the traditional West began with this continuum and still returns to local portions of it to confirm its syntactically formulated, postulationally prescribed theories of structures and objects, of which the items of the complex aesthetic continuum are mere correlates or signs, the East tends to concentrate its attention upon this differentiated aesthetic continuum in and for itself for its own sake.1 For immediate experience, we may say, the distinction between subject and object has not yet arisen; it is a continuous stream that carries along with it pains and pleasures, sensations of colour and sound, and so on. When attention is concentrated on the local here-and-now differences within the stream, we have the differentiated aesthetic continuum; when attention is withdrawn from these, we have the undifferentiated aesthetic continuum. But there is a third possibility. We may seek to order and manipulate experience by constructing concepts to group together a number of these local here-and-now differences and to forecast their future behaviour: we then check these generalizations by observation and retain or revise them as the evidence requires. The East operates the first two procedures, the West the third. Science is the^orte of the latter, art and religion are the strong points of the former. Some illustrations may help to bring out better what is meant. In Chinese art, the artist paints out of a sense of unity with nature; he must become one with bamboo or mountain before he sets brush to scroll. The Westerner paints objects that are immediately 1

Op. cit. New York: Macmillan, 1946. p. 375. 95

Christianity Among the Religions apprehended, no doubt, but as signs of what conceptual thinking grasps, the Ideas. The Indian devotee empties his consciousness of die finite and transitory, that he may become one with the unchanging behind all change. The Western believer relates himself to a personal God who directs the detail of history according to a will man may hope to know. While the Oriental errs by yielding too easily to die circumstances of the moment, the sin of the Westerner is bigotry, fanatical adherence to general principles. The ethos of the East is detachment, that of the West attachment. 'Let goP says one; 'Commit yourself!' cries the other. 'Not this! not that P is the expression of the divine for the East, while the West speaks of God's character and purpose. Monotheism means for us a sharp separation between God and nature; the Hindu meets the one God in the forces of nature and even in images. Paul Masson-Oursel confirms this analysis in his Comparative Philosophy. All Asiatic logic, even when coloured with idealism, is concerned with things, substances or phenomena, and not with concepts. . . . As for ourselves, the East will teach us that our conceptual logic bears an exclusively European character.1

So where we say 'Socrates is mortal', the Indian would say 'There is a mortal man, Socrates'. He 'grasps the solidarity of two attributes of a single substance' where we relate two concepts.2 Nor is it purely accidental that Socrates figures in the first sentence the Western student of logic is given. For it is he who more than any other gave our thought the direction it has followed ever since. The East had no Socrates. In the East no man was found to distil from vulgar opinion and current language that basis of the logical spirit of the West—concepts; and it is impossible to exaggerate the importance of this fact.3 1 2

Op. cit. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1926, pp. 147 f. 3 Ibid. p. 146. .Ibid. p. 142.

6

96 9

Philosophy in East and West If the difference between East and West lies in the fact that each emphasizes one of the two components of experience, reconciliation ought not to be difficult. Each party must learn to recognize that it has a truth, but that the truth is that which will unite both parties. They can meet, not because they are saying the same thing, but because they are expressing different yet complementary things, both of which are required for an adequate conception of man's self and his universe. Each can move into the new comprehensive world of the future, proud of its past and preserving its self-respect. Each also needs the other.1 b. K N O W L E D G E AND W I S D O M

Part of the value of the analysis in the previous section is that it illuminates some of those more obvious differences between East and West that by now have become part of the common consciousness with us. Thus, we know that the East is tolerant, the West intolerant, by tradition. China has its three religions, India accepts the superstition of the villager as his way to God as the philosopher's speculation is his; in Europe some of the most cruel wars were those waged over religion. Again, the East, we say is contemplative, static, conservative, while the West is active, dynamic, and progressive. As Keyserling puts it in more abstruse language, for the East 'significance is the primary, the eternal, and the truly real force' beside which the realm of appearance ranks only as so much illusion,2 while for the West 'it is the mission of man to embody significance in appearance'.3 This would mean, presumably, that the West is down-to-earth and practical as the East is not. Yet we must be wary of any such conclusion. What are we to make, in this connection, of the judgment that in the Orient 1

Meeting, pp. 454 f. Travel Diary of a Philosopher, London: Jonathan Cape, 1925, p. 108. 3 Ibid. p. 637. 2

G

97

Christianity Among the Religions all philosophy is ultimately for practical purposes, that ethics or the philosophy of life is the essential phase of philosophy, that the theoretical finds its sole justification in its service as a guide to the practical?l A contemporary Indian thinker confirms this: 'In India, philosophy is sought for the sake of the one and only lesson it teaches man: how to attain and live the life in which is realized the all as himself and himself as the all.'2 The second quotation shows that the practical purpose is not at all a this-worldly one. Indeed, what is at stake here is just what is truly practical. The medieval Christian knew quite well that nothing mattered in comparison with the salvation of the soul. So the Indian even in his boldest flight of speculation seeks release and salvation from the illusion that is life in this world. The Taoist argues for quietism and a do-nothing policy because it is far more effective, more practical, in the long run than education, law, and morality. The practical aspect of Confucius and Moh Ti comes nearer to our feeling on the matter, though the ends sought by them are political and social rather than economic. I would put it that the West seeks knowledge, the East wisdom. It is worth noting in this connection that, according to MassonOursel, while our philosophical tradition is divided between intellect and will, some giving the primacy to this and others to that, India and China have never recognized this distinction. The knowledge of the Upanishads is akin to that of the Old Testament, a knowledge that transforms and not merely informs. He adds that on this point Socrates stood where the East still stands. We ask how it was that he did not see that men sin by ill-will and not merely by ignorance. Perhaps he did not distinguish the two as we do. Perhaps what we thought was psychology pure and simple is our psychology and no more. 1 Philosophy East and West, ed. Chas. A. Moore, Oxford University Press, 1944, p. 266. 2 V. Subrahamanya Iyer in Contemporary Indian Philosophy, London: Allen & Unwin, 1936, p. 346.

98

Philosophy in East and West Granted that the East seeks after wisdom, how does it suppose it attainable? Whereas the European wrestles with a problem in the hope of solving it, the Indian rather aspires to reach a new condition of consciousness. The Westerner advances from thought to thought, inducing, deducing, differentiating, integrating; the Indian advances from condition to condition. The former rises higher and higher in the domain of abstraction, from particular to general concepts, from these to ideas, and so forth; the latter changes continually the form of his consciousness.1 This is so important that I add a quotation from Radhakrishnan: Hindu systems of thought believe in the power of the human mind to lead us to all truth. Our ordinary mind is not the highest possible order of the human mind. It can rise to a level almost inconceivable to us. Each system prescribes a discipline or a practical way of reaching the higher consciousness.2 Even more striking is this from Aurobindo: We mean by man mind imprisoned in a living body. But mind is not the highest possible power of consciousness; for mind is not in possession of Truth, but only its ignorant seeker. Beyond mind is a supramental or gnostic power of consciousness that is in eternal possession of Truth. This supermind is at its source the dynamic consciousness, in its nature at once and inseparably infinite wisdom and infinite will of the divine Knower and Creator. Supermind is superman; a gnostic supermanhood is the next distinct and triumphant evolutionary step to be reached by earthly nature.3 The presupposition of Indian thought is that consciousness functions at several levels. This explains how the belief in transmigration is possible, seems indeed the common-sense explanation 1

Travel Diary, p. 258. S. Radhakrishnan in Contemporary Indian Philosophy, p. 266. 3 Sisirkumar Mitra, Sri Aurobindo and the New World, 1957.

2

99

Christianity Among the Religions of the disparities life presents. It would be absurd to think of the rationalized consciousness of Western man as entering the world now as man, now as animal, and perhaps even as god. But here again we confront a different psychology from ours, and let us not forget that the Indian's psychology (what Jung would call 'metapsychology') is confirmed by his experience as ours is by ours. Consciousness, then, functions at a series of levels and at each it apprehends directly what is given. What appears to us fantastic speculation is sober report to him. His is a 'higher empiricism'. That there is such a highest realm, to be reached as one carries thinking to the point where it transcends itself and becomes vision, some among us have maintained. In India, there is a recognized training, Yoga, for those who wish to reach the supraconsciousness and the truth it finds. By heightening his power of concentration man gains possession of an instrument of immense power. If he controls this instrument perfectly it is possible for him to enter into direct contact with any object in the world, to act at a distance, to create like a god, to attain whatever he wishes. He has to direct his concentrated attention only towards one point, and he then knows everything concerning it. He need only turn to a problem to understand and solve it.1 Such is the insight given by the Tao. Without leaving his door He knows everything under heaven. Without looking out of his window He knows all the ways of heaven. For the further one travels The less one knows. Therefore the Sage arrives without going, Sees all without looking, Does nothing, yet achieves everything.2 1

Travel Diary, pp. 263 £ Arthur Waley, The Way and its Power, London: Allen & Unwin, 1934, p. 200. 2

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Philosophy in East and West As has been noted in more than one quarter, there is something here that Bergson can help us to understand. Intellect, he tells us, serves the everyday purposes of life, and it does this by abstracting from the totality of life in order to manipulate it by means of concepts. As against this, philosophy should make use of intuition, which enables us to grasp life from within as a total movement. Thus, 'philosophy can only be an effort to dissolve again into the Whole'.1 It might be an Indian speaking. But the yogin does not return to a condition prior to intellect, he advances through intellect to a country beyond it. There is perhaps a closer relation between Indian thought and the existentialism of Jaspers and Marcel. For this, too, philosophy is an intellectual labour that leads to an extension and deepening of consciousness. One comes to the point at which the processes we call knowledge break down, to the limit-situations of guilt, pain, death, and so to the ultimate mystery that can be met only by the transformation of the self. What is found then can only be related in stammering fashion, perhaps better in a play than in a treatise. Or, when it is given the form of argument, the reader is constantly reminded that this is but a pointer to what does not admit of demonstration. But the existentialist must part company with the yogin at one point. There is no technique of the Transcendent in which one can be trained; the way thereto is by faith, hope, and the venture of one's whole self. 'What is so wonderful', says Keyserling, 'in Indian yoga is the perfect rationality of its methods. We do, of course, not know whether it leads with certainty to the goal it is supposed to lead to, and whether the phenomena with which it is connected have been recognized and interpreted correctly; but in principle the possibility exists of testing the exactitude of its assertions along with its theories/2 There are affinities also between the analytical psychology of Jung and Oriental thought, as he himself has often pointed out. The archetypes of the collective unconscious correspond to the 1

Creative Evolution, 1911, p. 202. 101

2

Op. cit. p. 560.

Christianity Among the Religions metaphysical realities of the supraconscious. In each case the way thereto is by a course of training and discipline under a master, and in each the motive of the quest is the desire for salvation. Here, again, mutual understanding is called for. In East and West alike, we need both knowledge and wisdom. C. ACCEPTANCE AND RENUNCIATION

In the popular judgment, one of the most important differences between East and West is that the former tends to renounce the world while the latter cheerfully and heartily accepts it. Two concepts in particular may be cited in support of this view, those of Maya and Nirvana. For does not the first mean that all things here below, ourselves included, are unreal, illusory, a mere play of Brahma, and as such not to be taken seriously? Contrast with this the Western emphasis on history as man's sphere of action and responsibility; he is here for a purpose, the world is for the making of his soul, and for what he does in it he will one day be called upon to render an account. Similarly, is not Nirvana a state of inaction, even perhaps of annihilation? At any rate, the desire for it is prompted by a sense of the worthlessness of the world as transitory and fraught with suffering. The West wants to change conditions, the East surrenders life as irremediable and seeks only to escape from it. Of course, it is clear that the East is here being understood in a restricted sense. The Confucian scholar shows no sign of judging the world an undesirable place, and the Zen devotee insists that Samsara is Nirvana, that here and now the Buddha-land is open to us to enter in. Only against India and, outside India, those who have accepted Buddhism, can this charge of world-rejection be brought. Schweitzer tells us that he began his study of Indian thought because he was not convinced that this popular judgment, even supported by the authority of Schopenhauer and Deussen, was to be accepted without question. When he went to the sources, his doubts were strengthened. He came to the conclusion that the positive attitude to life was present in India from the beginning 102

Philosophy in East and West alongside the negative, and that the latter had no sooner established itself as negative than it had to face a counter-attack. Driven from one position to another, it is today on the point of being expelled entirely by the positive attitude to life. The Vedas show us a boisterous, hard-drinking warrior class as little disposed to renunciation as Homer's heroes. It was with the Brahmins that the ideal of renunciation originated and it was they who gave it a prestige that is only now being seriously shaken. Yet even the Brahmin had to allow that the ascetic should come to his rejection of the world through acceptance of it in the normal round of family and social life. Even Buddha linked his condemnation of the world as a place of suffering with a summons to self-perfection in thought, word, and deed, and also to compassion for all sentient beings. And the Gita preached karmayoga as a life of loving devotion amid one's daily duties in a spirit of inward detachment. But it was not till the nineteenth century and under the influence of the West that the claim was put forward that is now to be met with constantly, that Hinduism is only understood as resignation and flight from the world when it has first been misunderstood.1 In this last point Schweitzer is certainly correct. Whatever may have been the case in the past, the Hinduism of the future will regard social progress and social service as native to it, and not as a foreign import. The Ramakrishna Mission, Gandhi and Tagore are evidence enough. Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut? Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee! He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the pathmaker is breaking stones. He is with them in sun and in shower, and His garment is covered with dust. Put off thy holy mantle and even like Him come down on the dusty soil !2 1

Indian Thought and Its Development, London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1936. Tagore, quoted in A. J. Appasamy, Temple Bells, London: S.C.M. Press, 1930, p. 126. 2

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Christianity Among the Religions Even in the past, it is not clear that what are negativism and pessimism from our point of view were such for the Hindu and the Buddhist. A person may well count the world well lost for what is of so much more value than the world. It would seem that even those who, like Sankara, dismissed the world as illusion in fact accepted it as real for all practical purposes. The latter attitude is, of course definitely that of the Vaishnavite. While from the final standpoint this world is but an empty show, our life in it is not lived from this final standpoint, but from one that accepts it as the sphere of duty and achievement. And we in the West are supposed to be familiar with the question: 'What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?' We too are bidden to look 'not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal'. InjBuddhist countries such as Burma and Ceylon there is no less of the joy of life than there is in the West. That 'all life is suffering' no more militates against enjoyment than does the confession that we are 'miserable offenders'. As the Middle Ages recognized that life must be lived on two levels, so did the East. The few are called to take the ultimate standpoint and deny the world, the many must live within it. And we need to bear in mind that the Oriental is not troubled by the urgency of our threescore and ten years. Salvation does not turn once for all on what we do here below. This life is important enough to be taken seriously, but it is not all the life we have. It is sufficient for most men if they use it as one step nearer to the goal. What is the meaning of obsession with the present moment where a succession of further opportunities is anticipated? Our categories of world-acceptance and world-denial do not admit of a simple application where this is the case. There is, however, a real difference between the East and the West, and that in two respects. In the first place, they offer alternative solutions to the problem of how to close the gap between man's desires and the satisfactions open to him. We want more than life is willing to give us. Under the pressure of this 104

Philosophy in East and West state of things, the Occidental develops ever fresh means to the satisfaction of his desires. He speaks of a 'divine discontent'; need should become a spur to achievement, till the ideal condition is realized and all wants are met. Alas, he is never in fact satisfied. What is more serious is that he creates an economic system in which wants are stimulated by all sorts of means in order that goods may be produced and services afforded. The stimulation of desire has become a fine art with us, and we actually dare to hope that one day we shall have increased the wants of multitudes in Asia and Africa to the point at which—they will be happy? Oh, no, we shall be rich! The Oriental ideal, on the other hand, is reached by the reduction of one's desires to the level at which they can be satisfied. This ideal is embodied in the Confucian scholar, who asks only for a few books, wine, and the conversation of his fellow-scholars. But much less will do. How admirable was Hui! With just a modicum of food and a gourd of water, and living in a mean alley-way: other men could not endure the misery of it, but Hui was not affected. He remained quite happy. Admirable indeed!x

Here again the Eastern standpoint is nearer to that of early and mediaeval Christianity than to our own. When an Indian official abandons office and power for the life of a sannyasi, the heart of his people responds. So did the heart of a mediaeval people when a monarch abdicated to enter a monastery. In the second place, there are points both of agreement and of contrast in the karmayoga of the Gita and the 'inner-worldly asceticism' that Max Weber finds in Protestantism. In each case, a man is to discharge the duties laid upon him by society, and to do so in inward detachment, making of all that he does an offering to God. In each case, he hopes by this means to achieve salvation. But there are important differences. In India the ideal is embodied in the warrior and the householder rather than the merchant, X E. R. Hughes, Chinese Philosophy in Classical Times, London:}. M. Dent & Sons, 1942, p. 30.

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Christianity Among the Religions the duties are those required by tradition in accordance with the caste system, and there is none of that restlessness, that activity for its own sake, that makes for a mounting accumulation of capital. In the West one acts primarily for the sake of the immediate result of the action, or because of love of activity as such, and this is not only the very opposite of karmayoga, but also perhaps, the secret of the West's bondage to the world and its values.1 1

Philosophy East and West, p. 292.

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IX

Christianity and Indian Religions HUMANISM and the political religions apart, Christianity's only rivals for the spiritual allegiance of Western man are the religions of India. Here there are four possible attitudes that require to be considered. The first is neutrality, the attitude of the observer for whom both types of religion are valid and who, if choice is required of him, opts for the one that claims his attention at the moment. The second is assimilation, for which the differences between the religions are glossed over, and the two are reconciled by stating one in terms of the other. The third is hostility, when one is rejected outright in the name of the other. The fourth is understanding, when an attempt is made to appreciate the genius of each religion and to facilitate communication between them. I shall deal in the main with one representative of each attitude in the rest of this chapter. a. NEUTRALITY

For the first I select Count Keyserling. From one point of view, his Travel Diary of a Philosopher is a masterpiece of what the Germans have taught us to call empathy, the ability to feel oneself into a standpoint and system originally alien. He tells us that he did not go abroad to extend his experience, but rather to show how a mind that is master of itself does but turn upon its own axis even while it circumnavigates the globe, because it enters into different forms of spiritual life, to find each appropriate and even inevitable in its own setting. Each style of life is understood and 107

Christianity Among the Religions justified in its own place. In the East, therefore, Keyserling is critical of the West, but no sooner is he on American soil than the values of the West resume their hold over him. There is no over-all standard and the path to perfection is open within each culture. Perfection, that is, in a particular direction, though this will be compensated for by inadequacy elsewhere. 'Every appearance within its limits can give expression to Atman.'1 So in Ceylon the description of the world as may a becomes the only possible one amid such a riot of vegetation as surrounds him. That nothing is permanent, that life passes over into death and death into renewal of life—this is everyday experience in the tropics. One ceases to think, and something impersonal thinks in one. If then there is no permanent self, what room is there for any thought of immortality? One longs rather to be free, free for ever from the constriction of this luxuriant, entangling environment. The introduction to India took place through a temple ceremony at Rameshvara in which he participated. Here he found an attitude to the world quite different from ours. To understand this, we must give up our assumption that there is a world that has been accurately described by Western science, and that those who think otherwise are merely foolish or ignorant. We need to recognize that world and consciousness are correlated or, to change the metaphor, that other peoples are receptive of wavelengths that escape us altogether. Every form of consciousness reveals a different layer of nature. He who dwells in the world of the Hindu is subject to influences and has experiences unknown to others.2

Hence the Indian response to symbols is other than ours. He believes without 'believing that', as we cannot. He may commit himself to an avatar for salvation without supposing that such a being ever existed. A meeting with a group of political exiles in Tsingtao won his sympathy for China. 1

2

Selbstdarstellung, p. 15. 108

Travel Diary, pp. 92 f.

Christianity and Indian Religions All these statesmen take it as a matter of course that the organism of state rests on a moral basis, that politics are the external expression of ethics, and that justice is the normal emanation of good intentions; and it seems a matter of course to them, in quite a different sense from that in which the Sermon on the Mount does to the Christians: not as something which ought to be, but which happens only rarely, but as something which necessarily takes place.1 He caught a glimpse of Islam in India and felt himself at home. In a Moslem environment he became susceptible to the values of monotheism, the dignity it confers on those who know themselves to be in immediate relation to God, especially when this is fortified by belief in predestination, so that one is secure in the hands of God and called to serve him. Islam is a soldier's religion, and it breeds greatness of soul, self-confidence, and readiness to accept the fellow-believer as a brother, since all human distinctions vanish with God. All this is interesting and much is of value. Yet no clear conclusion emerges. In Japan, Keyserling finds Mahayana superior to Christianity; in America he reverses the relation. Indeed, the weakest part of the book is the final section, in which he looks back on his travels from an American perspective and finds in favour of the West. It is now to be praised for its activism, and even the missionary, previously condemned as an intruder upon a higher culture, is now justified. For is he not the hearer of 'a gospel of creative work and action?' 2 Further, the West has what Hegel termed 'objective spirit': the good is not left to individuals to will, but is built into institutions. Men do the right because it is expected of them, because it will be reciprocated, because their advantage points in that direction. Nor is this mere utilitarianism. It has educative value and may awaken spontaneity, so that a man comes to do of his own accord what society expects of him. Whereas in our case even the man who is inwardly coarse is forced, to a certain extent, to act according to the highest ideals, nothing 1

2

Travel Diary, p. 382. 109

Ibid. p. 604.

Christianity Among the Religions compels the Asiatic to appear cultured where he is not, and for this reason the behaviour in practice of the average man in the East leaves more to be desired than that of the same class in the West. On the whole, we act better than we are.1

A dubious advantage indeed! b. ASSIMILATION

One reaction to the discovery of India's rich spiritual heritage was an unwillingness to admit that it might be basically different from our own tradition. The conflict of truths is not easy to accept, and we prefer to take refuge in something like the 'perennial philosophy' that Aldous Huxley constructs. This assimilates Christianity to Indian thought till it virtually loses everything distinctive of it. The reconciliation of religions is achieved by the surrender of one party to the dispute. What happens is that all representatives of Christianity are dismissed unheard except the one whose agreement to such an arrangement is guaranteed in advance—the mystic. So when Huxley states the Tour fundamental doctrines' that are 'at the core of the Perennial Philosophy', he cites Suso and Eckhart for Christianity and the Sufis for Islam. Now, there is no doubt that mysticism is one the world over, but what is entirely overlooked in this argument is that mysticism as a system of practice and thought is central for India, marginal for Christianity. Heiler's distinction between the mystical and the prophetic types of piety may need qualification, but it is a valid protest against the hasty assimilation of what are really quite diverse spiritual types. And it is not clear that the three great monotheist religions would agree to be described in terms of a philosophy, even a perennial one. How unjustified and unsatisfactory such a procedure is may be seen from W. T. Stace's Time and Eternity (1952). To be sure, he anticipates criticism by denying that he merely takes Indian thought as his starting-point; he does but set out the common 1

Travel Diary, p. 595. 110

Christianity and Indian Religions elements in the various faiths. But we have only to look at his description of religion to see that it does not apply to Christianity as usually understood. Religion is the desire to break away from being and existence altogether, to get beyond existence into that nothingness where the great light is. It is the desire to be utterly free from the fetters of being. For every being is a fetter. Existence is a fetter. To be is to be tied to what you are. Religion is the hunger for the non-being which yet is.1

What has this in common with the Sermon on the Mount or Wesley's hymns? Nothing whatever. So when he looks for evidence to support his thesis, Stace goes to the mystics and not to the New Testament. Eckhart, Sankara, and the Sufi devotees bear witness to a common vision. Undoubtedly, but Eckhart stands outside the main Christian tradition while Sankara is one of the makers of the Indian tradition. Stace further distinguishes between the negative and the positive divine, and asserts that their claims are equal. From the first standpoint God is 'not this, not that', 'the nameless nothing', 'the non-being that also is', and so on. For the second he is personality, justice, love. The whole treatment is heavily biased in favour of the first approach, and the Indian scriptures and the Christian mystics are quoted in its support. On the positive divine we have only a few general statements, and those gravely qualified. We are told what we predicate of God differs in kind, and not merely in degree, from the same thing predicated of man. This means that there is no comparison between God's love and ours, that his love, and he himself, belong to a wholly different order from that in which we, in our natural moments in the time-order, live and move.2

This may be good Vedanta, it is certainly not Christianity. 1

2

Op. cit. p. 5.

Ill

Ibid. p. 155.

Christianity Among the Religions Stace frankly admits that the negative divine has no place in the Gospels, but urges that Christ's mission was to teach what 'the plain man' needed rather than to provide material for philosophers and theologians. A patronizing attitude indeed! C. HOSTILITY

We have already had a notable instance of hostility, the preference of Indian religion to Christianity, in Schopenhauer, and this reappears in Nietzsche. Though he finds neither religion satisfactory when judged by his standard of the will-to-power, Buddhism is reckoned superior to Christianity, since it bids man rely on himself and not look for supernatural assistance. His own doctrine of the eternal recurrence is of the same order. It is the utter rejection of any purpose of the universe, and as such it is 'the European form of Buddhism' to which science is inexorably leading us.1 Leopold Ziegler builds upon Nietzsche, but supports his thesis with a much greater weight of argument. He tells us that Neumann's translation of the PaH scriptures came to him with the force of a revelation. It convinced him that Buddha was no pessimist or quietist; on this point, the Western interpretation was wrong. Henceforth, there must be no 'Monroe doctrine' to forbid the Western soul to open itself to what the East has to give. True, we can never be Buddhists. But our greatest need today is for a new religion. And since science has destroyed for us all possibility of belief in God, it must be a religion without God. To this who can help us better than Buddha? According to Ziegler, one of the outstanding phenomena of modern times is the rejection of God combined with the retention of religion. Fichte, Shelley, Feuerbach, and Nietzsche are instances of this new attitude. Yet it is not as new as we think. For it was anticipated by Nicolas of Cusa and his docta ignorantia. He struck the deathblow at all attempts, from Anselm onwards, to 'demonstrate God's existence', i.e. to show from the objects in the world 1

Will to Power, London: Allen & Unwin, 1909, i. 50.

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Christianity and Indian Religions that there is a superior object that is necessary, that is such that no greater object can be conceived, and so on. For Nicolas God is not the most eminent of all objects; he is beyond definition and description, beyond language even. He may neither be imagined nor thought. He transcends Being and Non-being alike. The good cardinal did not see whither he was travelling, but we can. The God he reaches by this road is the God whom the 'godless' acclaim. He is the Brahma of the Upanishads and the Nirvana of the Buddhists. God must go, but religion must remain. Man cannot live without it. And Gautama has shown that God is not necessary to a religion by which a civilization is sustained and in which multitudes find support for daily life.1 In Der ewige Buddho (1922) this religion without God is presented as the logical development of Protestantism, the latter being itself only one form of something much older and more fundamental. 'Protestantism arises wherever the act that saves man and the world is the responsibility of man himself, man in this world of time and space.'2 Shades of Martin Luther! Hence Buddha is the supreme Protestant. And Nietzsche is saluted as the Buddha both of this age and the coming one. It is only regretted that the vehemence of his attack on Christianity galvanized it into a final spasm of effort just as it was about to fall dead. Where Ziegler differs from Nietzsche is in his estimate of the will-to-power. The defeat of Germany in the 1914-18 war taught us that the cult of power is deathly. But he ascribes the disaster that has befallen Europe, not to its abandonment of Christianity, but to the Christian influence at work in its history. Whereas Buddha repudiated a permanent self, Jesus put this in the centre of his teaching. Hence he must be held responsible for the self-assertion that has been the curse of Christendom. 'Power is the sole and final virtue of the European Christian; in it alone does he really believe; to it he prays and to it he sacrifices.'3 We measure life by its power to produce and then fall victims to 1 2

H

Selbstdarstellung, 1923; Gestaltwandel der Cotter, 1922. 8 Op. cit. p. 58. Ibid. p. 382. 113

Christianity Among the Religions what we have produced. Not that the Christian centuries were wholly in error. But they passed over the one thing needful. Gautama knows nothing of this imperious self; he does not cut up the world into fragments that he may bind these together again by means of laws. Whereas for us the individual self is the threshold everything must cross if it is to become real to us, he would have us lower this threshold till it approximates to zero, when a whole new and liberating experience will be ours. His saving formula runs: 'That does not belong to me.' We are to reject the Western notion that the world is there for us to possess it. Yet activism is not to be disposed of so easily, and in the end light breaks for Ziegler in the West and not in the East. For man's vocation is to create 'God'. By this word we can nowadays mean only an idea, the kind of idea of which the psychologists say that it is a force for action. God is the point of unity towards which the world aspires, the reconciliation of those powers and purposes that would otherwise be in conflict. God is 'not this, not that', not Zeus, not Brahma, not Christ, not anything that may be known or named. God is not 'a thing in itself, but 'a thing to itself, an impulse in man towards its own realization. God is a tendency that awaits from man the decision whether it will reach or miss its goal. Man effects his salvation by producing his saviour! d. U N D E R S T A N D I N G

Since understanding will be my concern in all that follows, I shall content myself here with a brief reference to A. N. Whitehead. For him, Buddhism and Christianity are 'the two Catholic religions of civilization' and if we have regard to clarity of idea, generality of thought, moral respectability, survival power, and width of extension over the world, then for their combination of all these qualities these two religions stand out beyond their competitors.1 1

Religion in the Making, Cambridge University Press, 1926, p. 44.

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Christianity and Indian Religions For a judgment on their respective worth, Whitehead operates with two criteria, their treatment of the problem of evil and their conception of God. On the first point, Christianity is 'a religion seeking a metaphysic' and Buddhism *a metaphysic generating a religion'.1 Or, in the language with which Marcel has made us familiar, Buddhism offers a solution of the problem of evil, while Christianity sees in it a mystery with which we can learn to live victoriously. The latter is accordingly less clear in its metaphysical ideas, but more inclusive of the facts'. How pain came about it cannot say; indeed, it directs attention to the evil we do rather than to that which we suffer. It certainly does not accept the thesis that 'all life is suffering'. But it offers us 'the religious fact' of Christ and in him a vision of how God is ever engaged in transmuting evil into good by taking it up into himself. What now of the second point, the conception of God? Whitehead thinks that here Christianity is handicapped by its Hebrew heritage. It has taken over the transcendent, intensely personal, and terrifying God of the Old Testament. The peoples of the Far East have another conception of the divine as either an impersonal world-order or the reality of which the world is but an appearance. The merit of Christianity is that, while adopting the Semitic concept, it has not been confined to it. This is especially due to the Fourth Evangelist, whose Logos-doctrine qualifies transcendence by recognizing immanence. So these two great religions confront each other, and confront also that new phenomenon, science. They do not find it easy to understand each other. They differ in their conceptions of God and of the ultimate fate of the soul. In their moral codes they largely agree; yet even here Christianity aims at the fulfilment of personal life, while Buddhism bids us overcome, not merely selfishness, but even, it would seem, selfhood as such. Again, each religion has its saviour. But Buddha and Christ are not saviours in the same sense. One brought a doctrine, the other gave his life. There is therefore opposition and not merely 1 Religion in the Making, Cambridge University Press, 1926, p. 50. H5

Christianity Among the Religions difference. Is this condition to continue? Whitchcad pleads that it should not. In the past 'each religion has unduly sheltered itself from the other'; let them now look 'to each other for deeper meanings'.1 Whitehead's treatment of our problem is slight in comparison with the others considered in this chapter. That was necessarily the case, as it is but part of a much larger study. But it has one great advantage over the others. It is not superficial. As such, it is much more worthy of consideration. So that, if the reader is disposed to travel farther with me along this road, this is the direction in which we shall proceed. 1

Religion in the Making, Cambridge University Press, 1926, p. 146.

Ii6

X

Criticism a. METHOD

BEFORE continuing the journey, it may be as well to look back upon the road hitherto traversed. We have seen how the problem of the relation between Christianity on the one hand and Islam and the Oriental religions on the other emerged in the thirteenth century. We have noted certain solutions of this problem that have shown themselves to be open to criticism, and the time has now come to consider these in greater detail. They are five in number: 1. Christianity stands over against its rivals as truth against error. 2. The other religions contain an admixture of truth and error, perhaps because they draw upon a primitive revelation since largely obscured. Christianity can therefore recognize in them a preparation for the Gospel; it comes not to destroy, but to fulfil. It accepts and completes the truth that was present elsewhere in fragmentary fashion. 3. Christianity is the absolute religion, the culmination of a process of development in which the other religions are moments, each justified in its place but each transcended in its turn. 4. There is no absolute religion, but Christianity is the highest. It is superior to all rivals. 5. No comparison is possible between religions, since each is a whole that carries its own standards within itself. Each embodies the form of spiritual life appropriate to a particular culture. Christianity is 'God's countenance as revealed to us*. 117

Christianity Among the Religions These are the possible solutions now to be considered. But first something will need to be said on the standpoint from which this enquiry is conducted. The standpoint is not that of theology, but that of the philosophy of religion. The theologian's approach to the subject-matter of this study has been stated quite clearly by Tillich: It should elaborate the motives and types of religious expression, showing how they follow from the nature of the religious concern and therefore necessarily appear in all religions, including Christianity in so far as it is a religion. A theological history of religion also should point out demonic distortions and new tendencies in the religions of the world, pointing to the Christian solution and preparing the way for the acceptance of the Christian message by the adherents of nonChristian religions. One could say that a theological history of religion should be carried through in the light of the missionary principle that the New Being in Jesus as the Christ is the answer to the question asked implicitly and explicitly by the religions of mankind.1 I need not consider here the justification for, or the value of, such an enquiry. Suffice it to say that my own purpose is very different. It is neither apologetic nor missionary. The finality of Christianity is not the initial assumption. It is one of the questions to be answered in the course of the enquiry. While the approach is from a Christian standpoint, the Christian allegiance of the writer is, as it were, held in solution throughout. It is liable to revision at any moment as the argument may require. There is no claim therefore to impartiality; that is probably not possible and perhaps not desirable. But it is hoped that the presuppositions with which one operates will be brought out into the open and checked against the evidence from time to time. But what exactly is meant by one's 'Christian standpoint' and 'Christian allegiance'? For, as the preceding discussion will by now have made plain, the conclusion at which one arrives in this matter is largely decided in advance by the conception one has of 1

Systematic Theology, London: Nisbet & Co., 1953, i. 44. 118

Criticism Christianity. In the relation between Christianity and the Eastern religions, the first term is more variable than the second. For while the second can be fixed by scholarship with some degree of accuracy, personal conviction enters into the determination of the first. Here again it is necessary to bring to light the assumptions with which one operates. As I see it, the Christian is under two obligations in this matter, one to truth and one to love, and these have equal claim upon him. On the one hand, he must stand by that which convinces him of his truth. Not, to be sure, that he will do so with a closed mind. Rather will he hazard this truth continually afresh by exposing it to all the winds that blow and retain it only because it roots itself the more firmly as a result. On the other hand, he will look with charity, as on all men, so on all manifestations of the spiritual life. He will therefore approach with respect and reverence the religions that have guided men for centuries and continue to do so to this day. He will put on them the best possible interpretation and will be willing to enter into a relation with them in which he will receive as well as give. The precept of neighbour-love may not be restricted to individuals, it must be extended to the faiths that the Christian is tempted to regard as rivals, but with which he needs to acknowledge himself akin. Nor is this relation between truth and love one of tension. The claim of truth includes within it that of love. Here, to be sure, we have to choose between the two interpretations of Christianity that have been current since the beginning, one exclusive and the other inclusive. For the first, the revelation of God in Christ is confined to a single stream of history, that which rises in Israel. For the second, what is revealed in Israel and in Christ is a dealing of God in mercy with all men at all times. The crucial significance of Christ is maintained on either view, but in the second case he is the point at which God so discloses himself that it can be seen that he is present at every point. For myself, the inclusive interpretation is the only possible one. The problem that has exercised so many good Christians, the problem of the multitudes who have died without hearing of 119

Christianity Among the Religions Christ and of those who died before he came, arises out of a failure to grasp the import of his revelation. The God who has come to us in him may not be restricted to him. Indeed, did he not come thus that he might open our eyes to see that none is without him? In other words, my sympathies are with Sebastian Franck and Schelling, for whom Christ is 'the light that lighteneth every man that cometh into the world'. He is at once historical and universal, because in Jesus of Nazareth there came to its fullest expression that presence of God that is with every man, or rather, that presence of God in virtue of which he is constituted man. As such he is at once manifest in a community that acknowledges him as Lord and latent as an influence that is at work even where he is unknown or actually denied. Neither of these forms exhausts his fullness, for each has something that the other lacks. If the manifest Christ is served by truth, the latent Christ sets no bounds to love. b. TRUTH AND ERROR

So much for the question of method. We may now address ourselves to the first of the five solutions to our problem enumerated above. For this, all religions are false save one's own and this alone is true. It might seem not worth the trouble to criticize this, for it can surely not now be held by anyone who has some knowledge of the great religions of the East. As we saw, it was soon found necessary to modify this claim on behalf of Christianity. The Moslem devotee and the Chinese scholar forced upon the missionary some degree of recognition. Yet it would be a mistake to dismiss this naive view without further consideration, and that for two reasons. In the first place, we need to appreciate the measure of justification it originally had. The Hebrew prophet, faced with the licence of Baal-worship, the magic practices of Babylon, and the superstitions of the Hellenistic world, swept them away as false and called men to acknowledge the one true God. The missionaries who brought the Gospel to our forefathers felt 120

Criticism in much the same way. They might, with Gregory the Great, be ready to facilitate the transition from the heathen temple to the Christian Church, but idolatry was abhorrent. Islam shocked the mind of Christendom; it seemed a devil's parody of the faith, and as such to be rejected with horror. When the categories of truth and error were first employed in this connection, they must have seemed the only possible ones. In the second place, we should not overlook the element of truth in this naive view. It is right in its insistence that the distinction between truth and error is as valid in religion as elsewhere in human experience. The mistake lies in supposing, first, that the true and the false in religion are to be identified with particular religions, and, second, that in the case of the true the identification is with one's own religion. We should rather think of truth and error as present in all religions, for are they not all historical phenomena, man's endeavour to come to terms with the Transcendent? They are true in so far as they apprehend the Transcendent aright, false in so far as they fail to do so. Since truth is9 we are called to be resolute in its service; since it is never in our possession but always beyond us, we are to serve it without fanaticism, biogotry, or intolerance. It is a false charity that regards everything that is religious as therefore good. The charge that many Indians bring against the Biblical religions, the charge of exclusiveness, is justified where they claim a monopoly of the truth, not justified where they assert that the distinction between truth and falsehood is a vital one. This brings us to the final solution we saw reason to question. I do not see how it is possible to place all religions on the same level, to assert that they are equally true. This is a view that has considerable support in the West today as well as in the East, and it is not without justification. It came as a surprise to many Europeans to find in the Islamic countries how religion permeates all life, how India and Japan have known for centuries of faith and love on man's part and grace on God's. The Christian who hears for the first time of Asoka notes with shame the contrast with his own imperial patron, Constantine. The discovery of a 121

Christianity Among the Religions world of spirituality hitherto unknown forced on the West the surrender of its self-satisfaction and arrogance. Once we had abandoned our own position of superiority, we seemed to be on a plain, with everything on the same level. Granted that we can see how such an opinion came to be entertained, it does not follow that it is plausible. One does not need to bring one's own religion into the picture. Is it really possible to maintain that there is no significant distinction between the worship of the synagogue and the practices of Tibetan lamaism? Or that Mohammed is on the same moral level as Buddha? We are back at the insistence that truth and error are as sharply opposed in religion as elsewhere. Again, is it only a debating point that those who maintain that all religions are equally true invariably go on to assert that certain religions are in grave error because they do not recognize this, and that they ought to abandon this mistaken position for the true one? It is assumed, at times even claimed, that the religions that acknowledge all to be on the same level are ipso facto on a higher level than the others! Again, if all religions are equally true, on what grounds does one follow this rather than that? Presumably the question is answered for one by the accident of birth. I believe in the religion into which I was born and in which I was brought up. But this seems to me destructive of the nature of religious conviction. I must begin, to be sure, by appropriating at second-hand the content of the tradition in which I stand; but I must go on to make it my own. We are not satisfied that a man should be a Conservative merely because he was born into a household that had always voted in that way; he ought to have convictions of his own. So in religion a man should come to the point at which he lives at his own charges: brought up a Christian, he chooses whether he will remain such or cease from that allegiance. In either case, he throws in his lot with truth as he sees it and rejects error.

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Criticism C. CHRISTIANITY AS FULFILMENT

Is it possible to regard the non-Christian religions generally as one can regard Israel and classical antiquity, as a preparation for the Gospel? They are, on this view, so many aspirations to that which they cannot of themselves attain, so many expressions of a need only to be met in Christ. He comes to them, therefore, not to destroy but to fulfil. The Hindu or the Buddhist ought then to feel that in becoming a Christian he has lost nothing but has gained much, and that in particular all that was true in his old allegiance has been preserved in the new and indeed enhanced therein. There is something attractive about this view, and we have met it in the Protestant Schleiermacher and the Catholic Scheler. The day will come, says the former, when 'all religions will be visible in Christianity'. In the latter, this view receives additional support in the appeal to a primal revelation, an original disclosure of God to which all branches of the human race have fallen heir. It will be necessary therefore to glance briefly at this suggestion. The existence of 'high gods of low races' cannot be questioned. In Ghana I was told that the ordinary man fully recognizes a supreme God who is Creator and Lord of all, though his prayers are directed not to him, but to some one of a whole host of minor spirits. As it was put to me: 'When you have a request to make to a chief, you do not think of going direct to him; you approach him through one of his subordinates.' In China Heaven plays a similar role, and in country districts I have heard reference made to 'the Heavenly Grandfather'. But there are other explanations of this phenomenon than a primitive revelation. Indeed, the theory of such a revelation must be regarded as a myth, that is, as the presentation in the language of history of that which does not belong to history but makes it possible. As such, it has its value. For it can be interpreted as referring, not to something that took place in the remote past, but to something that underlies every moment in the present. In other words, we might more legitimately speak of a basic revelation, that dealing of God with 123

Christianity Among the Religions man in virtue of which he is man, a being to whom God speaks and who makes answer to him in acceptance or rejection. From this digression we return to the theme of fulfilment. It is contended that Christianity takes upon itself, includes, all that is true, let us say, in Hinduism. But there is an obvious source of error here. The Christian is only entitled to claim that the Gospel does justice to the truth he finds in Hinduism. What has to be shown rather is that it can do justice to the truth the devout Hindu finds there. However convinced the Christian may be that the hope of Israel became actuality in Christ, there are Jews who have read the Gospels and come to revere the figure portrayed in them who yet find that in their Jewish heritage which is lacking in Christianity. Synesius could accept Christianity as preserving what he valued. Symmachus could not. What is possible is the judgment of the convert that he has lost nothing but gained much by a change of allegiance. This is something that is true for him personally, and as such is beyond dispute. But equally beyond dispute is the judgment of his neighbour that such a change would mean an impoverishment not to be contemplated. For our purpose, the evidence is indecisive. When therefore Martin Wight says, in criticism of Arnold Toynbee, that the higher religions 'forfeit their historical significance except in so far as they are related to Christianity',1 he goes much too far. For this judgment is put forward as that of a professional historian who is also a Christian. It is for me out of the question that spiritual structures of the value and power of Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam should be dismissed so lightly. The great religions are to be accepted for their own sake and not for the tribute they pay to our religion. What they say to us is not decisive for their worth, but what they have said to the multitudes who found shelter and inspiration in them. I could not agree that even the religion of Israel is without independent historical significance, and much less would this be the case with those religions that spoke to other civilizations than our own. 1 In A Study of History, Oxford University Press, vii. 748. 124

Criticism One further point. This claim to fulfil might be put forward on behalf of other religions. This is in fact taking place. For the Jew, Christianity and Islam are the means by which God leads the Gentiles out of heathenism towards the pure monotheism for which they are not yet ready. The Moslem acclaims Mohammed as the bearer of the final revelation for whom Moses and Jesus prepared the way. The most distinguished Buddhist leader in modern China was wont to say that Buddhism could find a home for everything in Christianity except the belief in a personal God. That error once discarded, the rest was truth that could be preserved. An Indian may confidently hold that, precisely because of its inclusive character, Hinduism can give hospitality to whatever truth other religions contain. The claim that a religion fulfils all religions is clearly the expression, on the plane of historical judgment, on one's personal attachment to that religion. d. CHRISTIANITY AS ABSOLUTE

I come now to Hegel's grandiose demonstration of the history of religion as at the same time a logical development culminating in Christianity as the absolute religion? What is to be said of this? It is now agreed that the scheme, imposing though it is, is imposing only because it sacrifices history to logic. The facts themselves go into the witness-box against Hegel. There is no evidence whatsoever of any necessary development in religion, of any process by which it advances from stage to stage to come to itself finally in one particular religion. The history of religion shares the features common to all history. It is a record, not of steady progress, but of advance and retreat, of brilliant achievement and shameful failure. The Christian will see in it also the record of God's disclosure and man's response thereto, sometimes in acceptance and sometimes, alas, in rejection. It knows tragic loss, as when so great a prophet as Zoroaster left so little behind him; isolation, as in the case of Chinese thought; and calamitous misunderstanding, as when Christianity failed to give Mohammed 125

Christianity Among the Religions what he needed, or he could not find it there. It knows also the conflict of values, when one apprehension of God is countered by another, equally sincere, but incompatible with it. A more adequate analogy than die logical would be the biological. Biological evolution tells the same story of effort often wasted, possibilities thwarted, and tracks that seem to lead nowhere. If Bergson is right, man is not the crown of creation in the sense that all led up to him. There are other lines of development, at least one of which leads to a type of life that has preserved powers lacking in man. We may not say that the social instinct of the bee was a means to man's intelligence; it is of a different order and has a value of its own. So Confucius and Buddha claim attention in their own right and not merely for the service they can render to Christianity. The assertion that any religion is absolute encounters at the outset two major difficulties. In the first place, one needs to know for which form of the religion the claim is made. Christianity exists in a rich diversity of forms, between which there is rivalry and at times even open opposition. We smile at Hegel's identification of the absolute religion with Lutheranism in his own peculiar interpretation of it. But is not the claim that any of us makes for Christianity necessarily in the name of Christianity as he himself understands it? And how can this be distinguished in the long run from attaching an absolute value to our own opinions? True, the attempt is made in certain quarters to avoid so unfortunate a conclusion by distinguishing between 'empirical Christianity', which can be surrendered to the relativity of all human things, and Christianity as revelation, which is independent of our judgment. But is it? Is not this second form of Christianity simply Christianity in the form that commends itself to those who employ this argument? It is another version of empirical Christianity and not anything of a higher order. Consider, for example, this criticism of Troeltsch: We speak familiarly of the Christianity of the Apostolic Age, of the Middle Ages, of the Reformation, of the twentieth century, meaning 126

Criticism by these general phrases the total positive reaction to Christ in different epochs. That this reaction, whatever age be taken, has been profoundly imperfect and in that sense wholly relative, no reasonable person, it may be presumed, could be tempted for a moment to deny. . . . But when serious thinkers raise the question whether Christianity is or is not final and absolute, the real issue is, or ought to be, a very different one. Now we are dealing with * Christianity* in quite another sense. Now it stands not for the reaction of man but for the action of God— for the revelation of God's holy love in Christ, for all that is meant by the Incarnation, the Atonement, the Resurrection, for the great things which the Father has promised or accomplished in the Son for us men and our salvation, for all that God is offering to the world in his declared Gospel. And to affirm the absolute and final character of Christianity in this sense merely proves that we understand what Christianity means.1 But is this to use the term 'Christianity' 'in quite another sense'? I fail to see this. Professor Mackintosh is merely asserting that Christianity as he and certain others understand it is absolute. What he describes is definitely not 'the action of God' but 'the reaction of man' thereto, a set of doctrines, each of them capable of many interpretations, by which men have sought to express what they found in Christ. The same writer goes on to say that the finality of Christ and what he imparts can justly be called in question only when a loftier fact than holy love has come into view— then, but not till then. But is not this the fallacy pointed out by Troeltsch, the fallacy of supposing one has demonstrated Christianity to be absolute or superior when one has assumed as much at the outset by taking a Christian standard as absolute or superior? So much for the difficulty that arises from the fact that those who claim that Christianity is absolute confine that claim to one form of it—that which they themselves hold—while rejecting it *H. R. Mackintosh, Types of Modern Theology, London: Nisbet & Co., 1937, p. 215. 127

Christianity Among the Religions for others. The second difficulty is that a religion is a historical phenomenon, arising at a particular point within history and a particular society, and as such conditioned and relative. That indeed, is essential to its success. That which was, as it were, in the air, not committed to any specific human situation, would meet no one's needs and would pass away, leaving no trace behind it. The message of the Hebrew prophets was for their own small kingdom in peril from the world-powers of the day, the Cross and Resurrection of Jesus are intimately related to the hopes and fears of Israel, the Pauline message was for the urban populations of the Mediterranean world in the first century, and so on. And a religion must pay what Hocking has called 'the price of existence'; if it is exactly suited to one period or people, it must be rethought and re-stated if it is to commend itself equally to others. Nothing in this world of space and time is absolute. Only God himself is. An absolute religion is a contradiction in terms. If this is so, a serious question confronts us. It was said earlier that religion requires an absolute, since without this man cannot live. Where is such to be found? C. RELATIVISM AND FAITH

We can no longer postpone a reckoning with historical relativism. How can we reconcile the relativities of historical enquiry with the absolute that faith needs? We can only do so as we distinguish between the standpoints peculiar to each. The first is that of the spectator, the disinterested observer, the second that of the responsible and committed participant. Life requires us to play now one now another of these roles, and in each to profit by what we learned from the other. The first is concerned with what can be detached from the self and studied as an object. Its sphere is pre-eminently the past, though often only the past of a moment ago. The second is concerned with what impinges directly upon the self and challenges it. Its sphere is pre-eminently the present as that in which the shape of the future is to be decided. To the one corresponds the truth of information, one's knowledge is 128

Criticism enlarged by it; to the other the truth of transformation, it leaves one a different person from what one was before. For the one, the 'absolute' is that which can be demonstrated to be free from anything that conditions it, and this cannot be found. There is no absolute for knowledge. For the other, the absolute is that which claims me personally here and now, puts my whole being under arrest. It is the absolute of Paul: 'Woe is me, if I preach not the gospel!' or Luther: 'Ich kann nicht anders! The distinction is one with which the moral philosopher is familiar. The obligation to do one's duty is unconditional though admittedly all judgments as to what is in fact one's duty are conditioned by a variety of factors. In this way the historical becomes the vehicle of the absolute. 'The accent of eternity' falls upon a moment of time or, to use W. E. Hocking's phrase, a man may feel that the arc of destiny coincides with the swing of his arm. The absolute in such a situation is not that which has no part or lot with the relative, but that which is perfectly related, that which, in my present situation, I must do. Plato's Apology is the classic account of how a man can discern the absolute in the relative and be faithful to it. But this is matter of personal commitment arising out of personal discernment, and not something that can be demonstrated. It is because he confuses these two standpoints that Mackintosh equates the finality of Christianity with the finality of Christ. But these are quite different. The first is an assertion about one set of historical phenomena in relation to other sets. The second is the acknowledgement of a person as adequate to all one's needs. Christ is absolute for me because, having him, I have all. But is not this 'absolute for me' a dangerous expression? Can we be content with Troeltsch's language about 'God's countenance turned towards us'? In one sense, yes; in another sense, no. If there is anything in the argument so far, then the absolute of religion is necessarily an absolute 'for me' or, in the case of a community whose members share a common faith, an absolute 'for us'. But Troeltsch does not mean this. The tone in which he speaks—or writes—is one of regret, as though there were an I 129

Christianity Among the Religions absolute of a higher order that, unfortunately, is beyond our reach. But, as I have urged, there is no such absolute. If we are to see God at all, we must see him as he turns his face to us. We have a knowledge of the absolute but not absolute knowledge. In virtue of the first, we stand fast by the truth as we see it; in virtue of the second, we are open in love to the witness of others to the truth they have seen. Von Hfigel finds great difficulty in the concept of 'polymorphous truth' with which Troeltsch operates. How can I recognize the existence and right of truths other than my own and at the same time give entire devotion to my own truth? Troeltsch fails to solve this problem. For him, the recognition of other truths robs my own of something of its power. I must acquiesce in their existence with regret, since they throw doubt on my own truth. The most satisfactory discussion of this difficult problem is that of Karl Jaspers in his Vernunft und Existenz. There is no theoretical solution, but only an existential one. I must neither allow my own truth to sink to the level of one among many, as though it were mine merely by some personal preference, nor use it to destroy the right of others to live, each by the truth as he sees it. I must regard my neighbour's truth as challenge and opportunity. In open communication with him, I shall either (a) come to hold my truth more firmly, or (b) abandon it because I have seen that it is not true, or (c) recast it in the form of a fuller and richer truth. In either case, so long as my concern is for truth and not for my own opinion of it, I stand to gain. We may state this in another way by reverting to the distinction between the standpoints of the observer and the participant. The relation between the truth that is mine and the truth that is yours cannot be seen rightly on the plane of the observer, since for him neither is truth. He sees only conflicting claims thereto. On the plane of the participant, there is no truth save that to which I come under the guidance of God and in a relation of love to my fellows, that is to say, in openness to the truth by which you live. The obligation to follow the light I have is always accompanied by the obligation to seek after fuller light. 130

Criticism f.

CHRISTIANITY AS SUPERIOR

Now that we have dismissed the claim of Christianity to be absolute, what of the more modest suggestion that it is at any rate superior to other religions? Here, Troeltsch's argument seems to me unanswerable. Eucken's own treatment is a case in point. He denies, it will be remembered, that any actual religion can be absolute; the absolute religion, or characteristic religion as he calls it, is present in, with, and under the historical religions. But whence does he obtain this characteristic religion? As he himself admits, it is a construction based on Christianity. But is not such a construction valueless? Of course, Christianity will do better than its rivals in an examination at which it has set most of the questions! Toynbee confirms Troeltsch's judgment when he writes: In our generation, there is not anyone alive who is effectively in a position to judge between his own religion and his neighbour's. An effective judgment is impossible when one is comparing a religion which has been familiar to one in one's home since one's childhood with a religion which one has learnt to know from outside in later years. One's ancestral religion is bound to have so much the stronger hold upon one's feelings that one's judgment between this and any other religion cannot be objective.1 Nor is this disproved by the case of the convert. For such a person is notoriously unreliable as a witness to the religion he has forsaken for another. He leaves it because it failed to satisfy, so that we cannot learn from him what it means to one for whom it is an adequate guide. It would seem, therefore, that we cannot claim that Christianity is superior, if by this is meant some objective judgment on the religions. This does not mean that it is inferior, but simply that the language of superiority and inferiority is out of place in the sphere of religion, especially for the Christian. The religious 1

An Historians Approach to Religion, Oxford University Press, 1956, p. 296. 131

Christianity Among the Religions spirit knows nothing of any comparison between itself and others, but only of the humility that comes from measuring itself by the divine holiness. From the standpoint of faith, comparison is out of the question. He to whom worship if offered is not superior to others, he is incomparable. The moment we begin to compare, we exchange the standpoint of the believer for that of the observer. Even there, as we have seen, the question of superiority is decided in advance by the standard employed for the comparison. Does this mean that no comparison between religions is possible? Are we shut up to a conflict between rival claims with no means of adjudicating between them? By no means. When it was said earlier that the standpoints of the observer and the participant must be distinguished, it was said also that neither is sufficient of itself. The commitment of faith must be subjected continually to the scrutiny and criticism of knowledge, lest it degenerate into wishful thinking or fanaticism. It must be exposed also, we have said, to the challenge of commitments in others that differ from one's own. What is personal and existential must in both cases be translated into concepts and propositions on which rational discourse can operate. If there is to be communication in truth and love between the representatives of the great religions—and it is towards this that we are moving—there must be argument at a rational level. The believer must achieve sufficient detachment to enable him to speak of his faith as something he observes and describes, yet not be so detached that the description ceases to convey what his faith means to him. The Christian, for example, will tell the Hindu why a faith that is rooted in history seems to him more adequate than one that appeals to general ideas, and the Hindu will reply. The Buddhist will state his objections to belief in a personal Creator and a permanent self and the Christian will defend his own position against his criticisms. Is there perhaps a parallel here to the arguments for God's existence? We believe in God, we cannot demonstrate him. But the traditional arguments and such new ones as we may bring forward are not therefore without value. 132

Criticism They express and confirm a faith in God that is already present, they make clear to those who do not share that faith what we believe and what we do not believe. So the personal confession 'I am a Christian' may be assisted and strengthened by setting out just how and where Christianity has that to offer which is not present in other faiths. But let me resist the temptation to pride that lurks in the use of such a word as 'superiority' in this connection.

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XI

Towards a Conclusion a. CONFLICT

ALL that we have seen so far goes to confirm our initial suspicion that the problem of the relation between the great religions is one that does not admit of an easy solution. The fact of conflict has emerged again and again, one religion repudiating what is as the breath of life to another. This takes its most overt form in the division of the world between a number of civilizations, each drawing its inspiration originally from a single religion or—in the case of China—a single philosophy. Our Western world is still nominally Christendom, as the Arab nations are bound to each other by Islam, while India, for all its Westernization, has still a culture of its own, based on Hinduism. Each of these civilizations has its own assumptions, its own thought-forms, its own standards of value, so that any effort to compare them is obstructed from the outset by the fact that there are no common standards that can be applied impartially. Each of us is committed to one or other of these patterns of culture. The sociologist will say that one may not ask whether Christian or Moslem marriage is better, but only whether each fulfils the role for which it is cast within its own society. If we wish to go beyond that, we must compare Islamic and Christian culture as two distinct wholes, each with its own claims. But this should not be allowed to lead us to the despairing conclusion that the great religions occupy so many hermetically sealed compartments, so that communication between them is out of the question. This is the position reached by Troeltsch in 134

Towards a Conclusion his later study. But has he not carried the principle of individuality too far, making it in fact one of those absolutes he is concerned to deny? The various civilizations are not as starkly opposed as the analysis in the previous paragraph would suggest. To those who are not lacking in sympathy and imagination and can shake off prejudice, there are amazing possibilities of mutual understanding on the part of people with diverse backgrounds. My own experience as one who has lived in the Far East and travelled in West Africa is that one has no sooner reached the conclusion that the mind of another people is a sealed book and that their standards are different from one's own than one discovers how much one has in common with them. Confucius and Mencius are sometimes incomprehensible to a modern Englishman, sometimes nearer to him than the editorial in his morning paper. Those who have had fellowship at a deep level with adherents of another religion can no longer think of them as inhabitants of another intellectual and spiritual planet. Again, granted the influence of geographical, racial, and cultural conditions upon a religion, is not this another reason for refusing to regard the individual character of each religion as an insurmountable barrier? For we are now in a period of large-scale intercourse and interaction. The New Testament is read in Japan and the Upanishads have their devotees in every Western country. The historical setting of every religion today is one of intellectual uncertainty, confusion even, and immense spiritual need. The future of each is at stake and therefore of humanity as a whole. We can no longer say that Christianity is 'final and unconditional for us, because we have nothing else'. Any claim we make for it today must be made in face of numerous counter-claims. The field is open for communication and common effort; we must think in global terms and no longer of civilizations so unique that they are sealed off from each other. Conflict is undoubted, but we may not accept it as final. If now we consider the opposition that obtains at the purely religious level, we shall see it as fundamentally that between the three great Biblical religions and the religions of India. It is the 135

Christianity Among the Religions clash between monotheism and monism, between the appeal to one God who is Creator and Lord of all and the quest of unity with an impersonal divine principle. This carries with it a grave difference in the evaluation of the world and history. Monotheism accepts the world as real, as having a definite origin and moving towards a definite termination at some future date; for monism it is maya, illusory, the present phase is a beginning-less and endless series of cycles. Monotheism takes pride in the fact that it has a historical basis, the exodus from Egypt, the crucifixion under Pontius Pilate, the Hegira: it reveres the personality of a founder. For the monisms, general philosophical ideas take the place of historical events. The Hindu doctrine of man is metapsychological, a piece of subtle and—as it seems to us—unsubstantiated analysis; the Christian doctrine operates with such concepts as the image of God, responsibility and love. A comparison of the two is no more possible than a conversation between one who knows only English and another who has only Chinese. But perhaps the most acute conflict has still to be mentioned. The Hinayana Buddhist may say that the difference between the way he follows and that taken by Jew, Christian, or Moslem is so great that he must deny that the word 'religion' is common to both. Buddhism, he will say, is not a religion at all. It acknowledges no God, but only gods who are caught, like men, in the net of karma; no future life, but only the bliss—or extinction—of Nirvana; no soul, but only the legacy of one life bequeathed to another that falls heir to it; no prayer, but only meditation as a form of spiritual discipline; no grace, but only man's resolve to tread the Noble Eight-Fold Path to the end. Could there be more serious conflict than this? How discuss the relation between the great religions when one of them informs us at the outset that it is not a religion at all? We seem to have arrived at the position stated so succinctly by Professor Zaehner in his inaugural lecture at Oxford. The religions differ, not because they give different answers to the same question, but because they ask different questions. 136

Towards a Conclusion b. DIVERSITY Is it possible to advance beyond this situation of conflict, as, for example, by reducing it to a clash of insights, each partial indeed but each in its place legitimate? Toynbee makes just this attempt in his Study of History. His approach is a psychological one. He fastens on the phenomenon of compensation as his starting-point. An individual who carries his development too far in one direction thereby does injury to his personality as a whole. But this brings with it its own remedy, as the psyche sets up in the unconscious a tendency that goes to redress the balance. The hard-headed employer may be soft-hearted within the family, the intellectual turns to crime-fiction for diversion, and so on. So it is with a religion. It tends to stress one aspect of the truth and neglect others. Sooner or later this calls into being a counter-movement, which in turns goes too far, so that once again a compensatory movement is called for. A Catholicism that allows Christ to become obscured by the Virgin provokes a Protestant reaction; this proves too masculine, and Anglo-Catholicism revives features of the old tradition. In India the dominant advaita fails to satisfy and in the bhakti cults men turn in devotion to a personal God. Perhaps what obtains within each religion may also obtain between the religions. Each of them is able to meet certain deep needs of the soul, but only at the cost of leaving others unsatisfied. The compensatory movement thus called into being leads to some degree of borrowing from another's store. Syncretism is inescapable in practice, even where frowned upon in theory. If Catholicism takes over the Mother-Goddess of paganism to satisfy the craving for a feminine object of worship, Protestantism is deeply indebted to the synagogue. In spite of the claim of some religions to possess the final truth, their history is a confession that they do not cover the whole range of human needs. The fullness of truth does not lie with one of them but is spread over all. But how is it so spread? Here Toynbee has recourse to Jung's classification of psychological types. There is first the contrast 137

Christianity Among the Religions between the extrovert whose attention is fastened on the outside world and the introvert whose eye is turned within. Then we have the four basic functions of thought and feeling, sensation and intuition, to be taken thus in pairs. Without forcing a system upon the variety of individuals, we can construct a series of types that will serve as guides to an understanding of that variety. In any person, one of the four functions will play a dominant part; as a consequence of this, the other member of the pair will tend to be repressed. The remaining two functions will be used as auxiliaries or also repressed—no rule can be laid down, for it is here that individual differences come into play. To illustrate, the intellectual will tend to be deficient in the emotional side of his life; how sensation and intuition enter into his make-up will vary from case to case. Finally, the repressed function will probably not allow itself to be relegated to the unconscious once for all; it will break out from time to time and manifest itself in more or less disturbing fashion. It only remains to apply this scheme to the great religions. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are extrovert because they worship a personal God who created the world and is at work in history. Hinduism and Buddhism are introvert, because for them the divine is within, the dweller in the innermost. Again, the dominant function in Hinduism is thought, in Islam feeling, and in Buddhism intuition. Thus each has appeal and validity as meeting the needs of some psychological type. It will be sufficient to indicate very briefly the further steps in the analysis. In Hinduism thinking dominates, we saw; this is associated with sensation and intuition, which find expression respectively in ritual and yoga. Feeling, banished to the unconscious, forces its way to the light in the bhakti cults. In Christianity feeling is dominant and thinking repressed; for, while Christianity has always had its intellectuals, they have been employed in the service of the Church and its dogmas, not set free, as in India. Intuition is found in the mystics and sensation in ritual. In Islam sensation is dominant and thinking is associated with it; feeling comes to its own in the Shi'ah, and intuition forces its way in as 138 3

i8

Towards a Conclusion Sufi mysticism. Finally, Buddhism is primarily a religion of intuition, and this co-operates with thought in the Hinayana and with feeling in the Mahayana. Sensation could not be entirely repressed, and avenges itself in such practices as the worship of relics. On a strictly psychological theory this is as far as we have a right to go. Each type must be accepted as ultimate, no gradation or comparison being possible. The divers higher religions must resign themselves to playing limited parts, and must school themselves to playing these parts in harmony, in order, between them, to fulfil their common purpose of enabling every human being or every psychological type to enter into communion with God the Ultimate Reality.1 But Toynbee cannot be content merely to classify, he must go on to judge. Man's chief end, he tells us, is to glorify God and enjoy him for ever, and he does this by feeling rather than by thought. On this showing, the most valuable instruments in the orchestra of Religion would be those that played the music of Love; and, on an order of merit determined by that criterion, Christianity would head the list.2 Next to it come Shi'ah Islam and Mahayana Buddhism, with Hinduism at the foot of the list. The last-named has, however, one excellence lacking in Christianity. It is tolerant and comprehensive, unwilling to outlaw any religion that brings man help and strength. In this argument, as Toynbee frankly admits, a Christian conclusion is reached because the premisses are Christian. A Hindu might well complain that the verdict has gone against him only because the jury was packed. Once again we see that in these high matters there is no imparital perspective, that we take our stand on what Troeltsch called the 'fine point of personal conviction*. 1

2

Op. cit. vii. 734.

139

Ibid. p. 735.

Christianity Among the Religions To return from this digression to the theory of types. At first sight, it is unquestionably attractive, but closer examination suggests that it is one of those brilliant generalizations that are suggestive rather than convincing. I confine myself to one criticism that may serve to advance the argument a stage further. Are we really to suppose that the four main psychological types have been distributed somehow over the earth's surface so that one prevails in the Far East, a second in the Near and Middle East, and a third in Europe and America? All experience goes to show the contrary. Christianity, for example, includes a number of great churches and small sects, each of which has tensions within itself, parties differing in outlook, congregations many of which have a peculiar ethos, and so on. It does not seem to be otherwise with the other great religions. Each of them is able to maintain its authority over great masses of men in virtue, in part at least, of its ability to cater for the needs of the whole gamut of psychological types. This suggests that we should look to some theory of types—not necessarily Jung's—not to explain the diversity of the religions, but to establish affinities between them. C. AFFINITY

The question I propose to ask in this section runs: Is there perhaps a classification by types that cuts across the classification by religions, so that a particular type can be traced in several religions? If so, there would be a measure of affinity between them. H. N. Spalding, in his survey of Civilization in East and West, may serve as guide at this point. He enumerates four types of state or, as it would be better to say, society. The first is that of primitive man, the 'biological society'. From this, man sets out on the long pilgrimage of reason and arrives first at the 'materialist society'. Here interest is still focused on the world, concerns are practical, and man is in the centre of the picture. By contrast the 'moral-spiritual society' looks towards God, conceives him as personal, and seeks reconciliation with him. Finally, in the 140

Towards a Conclusion Spiritual society' the claims of this world yield to those of the other, the dominant mood is one of contemplation, and man yearns after unity with the divine as the end of his being. As the argument develops, Spalding tends to set Indian religion at the climax of the process and assimilate Christianity to it. I am not concerned here with this or other features of his argument. What is of value is that, in allocating one or more of the nonChristian religions to each form of post-primitive society, he sets beside it one of the three major types of Christianity. There is thus a link between Orthodoxy, Catholicism, and Protestantism and at least one non-Christian religion in each case. Let us see how this is worked out. To the moral society Spalding assigns Chinese religion with the Confucian strain predominant in it. The parallel to this is not Protestantism as such, but the version of it current among the busy, practical nations of northern Europe. The moralspiritual society is represented by Israel and Islam on the one hand and by Catholicism on the other. In all three, God's law is the source of moral obligation, and man relates himself to God by obedience or submission or dependence on his grace. The spiritual society is the work of Hinduism and Buddhism in one hemisphere and of Orthodoxy in the other. For the latter is strongly influenced by Neoplatonism and shares with the mystics of all ages a belief in the divine element within the soul. The salvation it offers is theosis, the deification of man and nature. As Keyserling puts it: 'In order to be pious in the Indian sense one has either to be born an Indian or a Russian.'1 There is much truth in this analysis, but one important modification is called for. The great religions are too complex for the relations between them to be as simple as is here made out. It is clear, for example, that Catholicism has as much in common with Hinduism as with Islam, if not more. We must establish affinities, not between the religions as such, but between the patterns of spiritual experience that may be identified within them. So, for example, Orthodoxy will be akin to Hinduism in 1 Travel Diary, p. 226. 141

Christianity Among the Religions virtue of feature A and to Islam in virtue of feature B; Lutheranism will stretch out a hand to one form of Buddhism but not to others, and so on. The religions, that is to say, are like cities, each of which has within it a group of people related by kinship to the people of other cities. While they retain their loyalty unimpaired, they can therefore interpret to their rulers the policies of those other cities and so make friendship possible where otherwise hostility would threaten. So, in Truth and Revelation, Berdyaev at times confesses himself more in sympathy with Indian thought than with that of Western Christianity. Its concept of the divine is not so crudely personal nor so harshly judicial and authoritarian; it treads the via negativa, more ready to say what God is not than what he is. Its concept of man is more generous, and it is not disposed to condemn multitudes to the flames of hell. No Calvinist should listen to those who accuse the Koran of teaching fatalism. He, like the Moslem, attempts to combine God's predestination with man's freedom and responsibility. Illogical this may be, but who can doubt its power in history? Every observer of the Jodo and Shinshu sects of Buddhism in Japan has been struck by their likeness to Lutheranism—the same emphasis on salvation by faith and not by works, the same entry of the religious life into the secular calling. Did not Shinran marry, as Luther did, in the name of the latter principle? Some of the hymns sung in the services of these two sects would need little adaption for use in Methodist worship. What religion has not had its controversies over reason and revelation? The effort to return to the historical Jesus had had its parallel in the call 'Back to Buddha'. There have been Christian theologians who would have been thoroughly at home in the dispute among Vaishnavites as to whether God's grace saves us as a cat carries its kittens or as a monkey carries its young. One could wish, indeed, that Western theology had conducted its debates in such language. And even so no mention has been made of the most striking case of affinity, that of mysticism in all its forms. Here the quest is one and the goal, when it is reached, is one. 142

Towards a Conclusion d. UNITY The considerations brought forward in the previous section makes it possible to hope for a measure of unity. Yet it must be a unity that includes within it tension and conflict, even the rejection by one religion of that which is precious to another. Perhaps what obtains within Christianity itself may help us to see what might be possible over a wider area. The ecumenical movement has led the churches to the paradoxical position in which their divisions are more sharply defined than before, because they have been brought out into the open and clearly formulated, and yet they are aware as never before that Christian unity is a reality. On certain points, such as the ministry and the sacraments, we seem to be confronted by insuperable difficulties; we know now that we are divided by basic convictions and not merely by prejudices. Yet for all that we can no longer be indifferent to each other, as we once were. We are drawn together, we learn from each other, we recognize each other as servants of the same Lord—yet we cannot sit together at the communion table. There is unity in spirit even where any attempt to express this unity divides us. To be sincere, we must use our own words, and they constitute a barrier at once. Yet this unity of the spirit is no vague and misty thing; it is something by which we are learning to live. Perhaps it is only in silent worship and practical collaboration on particular projects than we can grasp our unity as a reality. Perhaps it is even so with the great religions. Just as the Protestant may be conscious at once of his unity with a Catholic friend at the level of prayer and worship and of his conflict with him at the level of theology, so Christian and Hindu may be drawn together in the life of the spirit yet separate when they put into words what that life is for them. Between the wars, during a short stay in Japan, I visited the community of Ittoen near Kyoto and met its founder and head, Tenko Nishida. Though a Buddhist, he had been deeply influenced by Tolstoi and the New Testament. The hour I spent in conversation with him was a most moving and memorable experience, though again and again there 143

Christianity Among the Religions was much in what he said that I was prepared to challenge. After our conversation I slipped away to the shrine of the brotherhood, kept for private worship. It was in two parts. One contained a Shinto tablet, a small figure of Buddha, and a cross. In the other was a simple lamp burning the rape-seed oil a peasant uses, and kept alight continually. Each person who worshipped there was free to choose the symbol he preferred, that which was peculiar to his own faith or that which stood for their underlying unity, the Light that lighteneth every man that cometh into the world. As I knelt before that lamp, I too entered into that unity of the spirit which did not abolish our several allegiances even while it transcended them.

144

XII

Communication a. R E C O N C E P T I O N

OUR discussion thus far has brought us to the point reached by W. E. Hocking in his Living Religions and a World Faith. The religions may not be dissolved into general ideas, their strength lies to no small extent in what marks them off from each other. 'The price of existence must be paid. We shall not arrive at the world faith by omitting the particulars.'1 The religions of the East are not religions in the same sense as Christianity, so comparison between them is difficult, if indeed it is legitimate. Each, again, is highly complex, so that our attempts to define it never do justice to it. Most of our criticisms of a religion other than our own are invalid for the simple reason that it is one thing for those who live by it and another for those who do not. We turn aside attacks on Christianity by pleading that they are valid only against 'empirical', not against 'genuine', Christianity. But what is to prevent a Buddhist from urging that Buddhism has not failed, it has been found difficult and not tried? Further, the religions of the East are not defunct, they are taking on new forms to meet the challenge of the modern world. We allow that such a procedure is legitimate in our own case, but seem to regard it as unfair when, say, Islam follows our example. We want to stereotype the other religions so that we can always feel superior to them. They ought to stagnate and die. But they refuse to oblige us. We must allow a religion to be what its followers claim that it is. 1

K

Op. cit. 1940, p. 57145

Christianity Among the Religions Hocking then goes on to consider the possibility of a world faith emerging one day and what the prospects are of Christianity becoming such a faith. There are three paths to this goal. The first is that of radical displacement, one religion aiming to supersede all others. The second is that of synthesis, the inclusion within one's religion of what is good in the others. If the first errs by bigotry, the second does so by weakness. It neglects the distinction between truth and error. Of course, we must be willing to learn from each other. But let us take nothing over save as it convinces us of its truth. We may say that syncretism is permissible so long as it is not a deliberate policy but comes about naturally as men of open mind share their experiences. What Hocking himself advocates is reconception. Let the representatives of each religion look at once without and within. Challenged as they are by one another, let each use the knowledge he has of the others to enable him to understand his own religion better, to penetrate beyond the adventitious to the essential. As we see our own religion through the eyes of those who are of a different allegiance, we shall learn to distinguish what is vital and primary in it from what is merely traditional and secondary. One's conceptions have been inadequate; they have not anticipated these new vistas and motives: we require to understand our own religion better—we must reconceive it—then we shall see how the new perspectives belong quite naturally to what has always been present in its nature, unnoticed or unappreciated by us.1 By such a process, the religions will be drawn together in mutual understanding. The return of each to its essence will be the return of all together to what they have in common. Not that in the process they will be reduced to the same terms, to a few simple ideas: what is local and particular must live on. But could there not be a rivalry between religions, not to win converts, but to reach truth and serve mankind? We may therefore look for 'a growing resemblance among religions', but there will be 1

Op. cit. 1940, pp. 191 f. 146

Communication 'no immediate tendency to diminish the number of particular religions'. Nevertheless, the process does tend to a decision, not through a conflict of faiths or a campaign for world dominance, but through the unforced persuasiveness of relative success in this effort to become a better vehicle of truth.1 I suspect that my quarrel with Hocking is over his language rather than over the intention behind it. I am not happy about the use of the term 'essence' in this connection. Again, such a word as 'reconception' suggests something less than the unreserved openness to the challenge of another faith that I would wish to see. The experience of the ecumenical movement suggests that the danger that one will merely be confirmed in one's original position is a serious one. Also, to enter into conversation on the assumption that 'the new perspectives' will be seen to 'belong quite naturally to what has always been present', albeit 'unnoticed or unappreciated by us', is to ensure that the danger wih1 not be avoided. In the later book The ComingWorld Civilization Hocking makes it clearer that he has in mind a process of assimilation that is consistent with fidelity to one's own truth. But he still falls short of the complete exposure and total risk that are involved in such a full and frank encounter as alone can assure that truth is advanced thereby. I find him too optimistic in his judgment that Christianity has by now achieved sufficient freedom fromWestern civilization and its peculiarities to qualify it for taking 'a certain leadership in meeting the religious problems of the coming civilization'.2 For 'reconception' I would therefore substitute 'communication' in the sense the word bears in Karl Jaspers's philosophy. Is the only unity truly obtainable to us humans unity through communication of the historically manifold origins, which are mutually concerned with one another, without becoming identical in the manifestation of idea and symbol—a unity which leaves the One concealed 1

2

Op. cit. 1940, p. 201. 147

Op. cit. 1956, p. 136.

Christianity Among the Religions in manifoldness, the One that can remain true only in the will to boundless communication, as an endless task in the interminable testing of human possibilities? *

"The will to boundless communication*—is not this what is needed? b. CONFLICT OF TRUTHS

In the relation between the religions, conflict, as we have seen, is inescapable. If they sometimes agree, they also often differ, and there are occasions when they seem irreconcilably opposed. But the situation is even more complex than it has been presented hitherto. For sometimes, just where the affinity is greatest, divergence reveals itself. A few instances of this will suffice. I have adverted to the 'Lutheranism' of the Jodo and Shinshu sects in Japan. They preach salvation by faith, but not as the one possibility for sinning man; it is the 'easy way' that is opened in this degenerate age. They proclaim a Saviour and his grace, but they acknowledge that he never actually lived; he is symbol and myth. Buddhist compassion prompts to the same actions as Christian love, but they differ profoundly in their metaphysical basis. The Christian loves his neighbour because he is other than himself, a person with unique rights that must be respected; the Buddhist loves his neighbour because he is not other than himself, since all life is one and the self is unreal in all. Ramanuja knows of a God of love who created the world; but that world is not unique, with a beginning and an end, it is one phase of a process that is endlessly repetitive. How shall we describe such cases? Is the conflict uppermost or the unity? The presupposition of communication is that, here and elsewhere, no one party to the debate has a monopoly of the truth. Each can lay claim to no more than a partial glimpse of it, so that the one hope of advancing beyond this to a larger insight 1

The Origin and Goal of History, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1949, p. 264. I48

Communication is by the willingness to meet and learn from each other. What has laid hold upon me must neither be lightly surrendered nor obstinately adhered to. It must be exposed to the challenge and criticism of what has similarly laid hold upon you. Conflict there must be, but it will be a conflict waged in love, each seeking victory not for himself but for a truth that will be common to both and will bind them together. The opponent in each case is not the other person, but the ignorance, the prejudice, the selfsatisfaction within oneself that prevent growth. But for such a relation the first requisite is complete openness. Everything must be brought out into the light of day; nothing must be kept back because it is too dear to be surrendered even were it proved false. Meanwhile, we are supported by a common faith in truth as the pearl of great price for which it were well worth while to sell all that we have and are up to this point. All that can be done at present is to call for this boundless communication. What will come out of it we cannot foresee. No syncretism, no assimilation, no world faith is envisaged, but something better than these—a growth in mutual understanding, and a participation in the life of the spirit at a level where words and definitions break down. In the language of George Fox, we 'shall meet and know one another in that which is eternal*. It is the paradoxical nature of such communication that it must present in arguments that which arguments cannot touch, must throw into the form of rational discourse that which can be known but not defined. For we can only share in spiritual experience as we put it into words, employ concepts, and state our own point of view over against another's. The two extremes to be avoided are, first, the withdrawal of each party to the conversation into a realm of private feeling, and second, the reduction of intense and personal experiences to abstract ideas. He who has genuinely shared with a person of another faith knows how difficult it is to avoid these two pitfalls, but he knows also that it can be done. Perhaps I may be permitted to make three brief contributions here to such communication from the Christian side. It is a 149

Christianity Among the Religions commonplace among Christian theologians that, as Tillich puts it, all our statements about God—with the single exception of this statement, which after all is only indirectly about him—are symbolic. There is as yet little disposition to admit that this is the case with the non-Christian religions. The Upanishads and the Koran are to be taken literally, the New Testament symbolically! But is this fair? Once grant that all our language about God is a pointer to that which no language can express, it may well be that we need two sets of symbols if we are not to fail entirely in our speech of him. The West experiences the Transcendent as a personal God, the East as an impersonal divine principle. That neither of these is absolute is shown by the fact that, on the one hand, Christian theology is forced at times to speak of 'ultimate reality' and 'the nature of things', and that, on the other, the soul of India has again and again turned in loving devotion to God as personal. Perhaps that is dominant for the one which is subordinate in the other. This leads to the second point. Is an understanding between monism and monotheism possible? Or, we may ask whether each can do justice to the other. For monism, of course, the worship of Isvara, the personal Creator and Lord, belongs to the relative world, the sphere of ignorance, of transmigration and salvation. Monism, as it were, includes monotheism within it as a particular case, just as the theory of relativity includes Newtonian physics. I think that it is possible for monotheism in its turn to include monism within it. The static world-view of monism is, so to speak, a cross-section of the dynamic world-view of monotheism. If God maintains the world in being from moment to moment by an activity that presents each situation with a possibility of redemption, so that God, as it were, adds to each phase of its development just that complement that would bring it to perfection, if accepted, then, could we arrest the process at one instant, we should see it as a perfect whole in which all evil was made the occasion of a greater good, and one's highest aim would be to merge oneself in that whole at the point where one's individuality entered it, and so to become one with the divine. The impersonal 150

Communication absolute of one system is the Hving-God-and-the-world-ininterrelation of the other system. Finally, I would suggest how a Christian can view the anomaly of Hinayana, a religion that denies that it is a religion. For if our definition of religion is such that it excludes Buddhism, the inference to draw from this is that we must find another definition, or maybe decide that here is something that resists all attempts at definition. Perhaps we should think of God as revealing himself to men in two ways. In one, he offers himself as a gift to be received; in the other, he holds himself in reserve as a prize to be won. So, in the teaching of Jesus, the kingdom of God is now something to be reached in the spirit of a little child, now something only for him who is willing to take up the cross and bear it after Jesus. For Paul, the man who surrenders all claims of his own must at the same time be pictured as straining every nerve to reach the goal and win the prize. Karl Jaspers speaks of 'the reticence of God'. He remains silent, stays in the background, throws us on our own resources, because he cares so much for us. If then for Christianity God is known primarily as gift, this is not to say that there are not those, as in Buddhism, by whom he wills to be won as prize. Once again, God is too great to be apprehended exclusively through one set of symbols. Two sets are needed, and these in apparent conflict. If they are after all not so much opposed as complementary, it is only in communication that this can be seen. C. LEVELS OF DECISION

Such communication as is here called for is in fact no new thing. Wherever the ecumenical movement has gone, it has become part of the daily life of the churches. It is by the combination of fidelity to one's historic witness with openness to the witness of others that they have come to a fuller understanding of their unity in Christ. Where such openness is refused, on the ground that one already has the truth and that nothing remains to be learned, communication is impossible and unity is not achieved. 151

Christianity Among the Religions Let us bring out by an example the sort of thing that has happened again and again. The convinced Protestant, coming to a better knowledge of Roman Catholicism or Greek Orthodoxy, finds himself taking up four attitudes to it. (a) He discovers it in the truth he already holds, so that to this extent unity is already present. (b) He finds in it that which he must reject as error. To this extent conflict must continue, but it can be qualified by charity. (c) He finds in it that which appeals to him as a new truth, some idea or practice hitherto strange to him which convinces him as something he must learn and make his own. (d) He finds it in that which he can neither accept as truth nor dismiss as error. He realizes its spiritual value for others but it does not speak to his condition. He must respect it, but he cannot make it his own. I suggest that communication between the great religions may well have the same outcome. The first of the four attitudes presents no difficulty and calls for no comment. I shall therefore illustrate briefly the other three. (a) For the foreseeable future, conflict must be accepted as inescapable. Each of the great religions sees that in the others which it must reject, and nothing is to be gained by concealing this unpleasant fact. As a man who cannot say 'No' is without character, so a religion that cannot say 'No' is without power. As regards the application of this, I can only speak for myself. I appreciate the fact that the Moslem is under an obligation to speak no evil of the founders of other religions, and I am sure that we should reciprocate by refraining from the criticisms of Mohammed that come so easily. But I cannot regard Mohammed as a prophet in the same sense as Jeremiah and Second Isaiah. I am fully aware that a thoughtful Hindu finds the use of images in worship not incompatible with the unity and spirituality of God, as also that he may employ the language of sexual licence to express the soul's purest devotion: but to both these practices I find myself compelled to say 'No'. Whatever the future holds, the present leaves us in opposition on certain points. I do not doubt that the 152

Communication Buddhist and the Hindu will wish to dissent in the same way from certain features in our Christianity. (c) On the question of what the Christian may well learn from other religions, I find myself largely in agreement with Hocking. I add a few comments of my own. Are we Christians as sound as we think we are on the unity of God? I could wish that something like the muezzin's cry to prayer might ring out five times a day over our great cities in the West, calling its population to remember how all life is under the rule and mercy of one good, great God. Some even among our professional theologians might well go to school with the Moslem on this point. The tendency of the Christian moralist to abdicate before the necessities of the political struggle is in sharp contrast to the Confucian affirmation that justice and humanity must always take precedence of expediency, even in affairs of state. When I read in the Upanishads of the soul's quest for unity with the divine, I cannot doubt that there is here a genuine spiritual experience, and I long to enter into it for myself. The judgment of two men with much greater experience than my own may be of value. The first was a missionary to India. He was once describing to a student audience in England how he went to that country only to teach, but found that he had also much to learn. One of his audience put the question to him: 'You say that we should be willing to learn from Indian religion. Give us one instance of what you have in mind.' He lowered his voice as he replied: 'The love of God for his own sake, and not for anything he gives.' The second was a missionary in Hong Kong, previously resident in China, who knew Chinese Buddhism from within as no other European of his day did. When a similar question was put to him, he replied: 'A sense of the immensities of space and time that are at God's disposal for his work, so that we are delivered from the so-much-to-do-so-little-done anxiety of the West.' Are not both these lessons well worth learning? I have spoken already of the striking contrast between the two imperial patrons, Asoka of Buddhism and Constantine of Christianity. If only we could learn from the religions of the 153

Christianity Among the Religions East their patience and tolerance that put to shame our lack of charity at the point where we profess it most! We need to take to heart the charge that Jaspers brings against us, that the Christian claim to possess absolute truth is in part responsible for the political and national fanaticisms of today. (d) What is the Christian to think of Gautama Buddha, his struggle for truth, his enlightenment, and the message he has left behind him for the guidance of multitudes? What is he to think of the great and gracious souls nourished on Buddhism, the boundless devotion and self-abnegation of Santi-deva, the nobility of Prince Shotoku,the saints of Zen and the evangelists of Jodo? The presuppositions of this religion are not his own, it does not answer his questions, and it asks questions that are not his. He cannot say with it that 'all hfe is suffering', and he cannot with it equate the self with selfishness. That it is not the truth for him is clear. But can he deny that it has been the truth for multitudes of others? Neither acceptance nor rejection, it seems to me, does justice to the situation here. Here is something that I salute with profound respect, though I can never make it my own. Though not turned towards me, it may yet be the countenance of God. I cannot say 'Yes', nor can I say 'No'. I say rather: 'Here are depths in the wisdom of God that must be further explored.' C. CHRIST LATENT AND MANIFEST

The tide of this book requires that one final question be asked and answered: 'What, in the process of boundless communication here envisaged, are the prospects of Christianity?' Here, as was said earlier 'the conclusion at which one arrives in this matter is largely decided in advance by one's conception of Christianity'. What follows is therefore in the nature of a personal confession. But in this confession I am not alone. The time is ripe for that radical reconception of which we have spoken, whereby the concept of the Christ is extended to include that unbound Spirit who stands at the door of every man, and who, in 154

Communication various guises, still appears to him who opens, both as an impersonal word and as personal presence.1

The Christian can enter into conversation with men and women of another faith because his aim in this is not to win them for his religion, but to serve that kingdom of Christ whose triumphs are only those of truth and love. He is willing to receive into the fellowship of the church ah1 who would confess Christ by name; indeed, he invites them to enter it. But he does not demand that ah1 become Christians. For he knows that Christendom has so sadly misinterpreted Christ that he may draw some to himself within their own religions as he could not do by gaining them for ours. When 'In hoc signo9 ceases to be a battle cry, it will ascend as token of another conquest, the conquest of estrangement among the seekers of God.2

I would accept the thesis of the latent and the manifest Christ, as it is found in Sebastian Franck and Schelling. But I would add one important qualification. To neither form of Christ do we have access directly, but only in and through historically conditioned religions, of which Christianity is one. We may not therefore assume that, as Christians, we possess the key to the understanding of the non-Christian faiths, the criterion by which to distinguish truth from error in them. We know the manifest Christ only in part, so that we are not in a position to define the outlines of the latent Christ. The complete Christ, it may be, includes a glory in the latent Christ that waits to be recognized and appropriated by those who know him only as manifest. The faith that he is present in Christian and non-Christian alike should lead to frank conversation between the two, in the hope thereby to draw nearer to the complete Christ. Perhaps the time has come to restore to honour one of the oldest and most neglected symbols of the faith. We look for the Christ who is to come. 1 2

The Coming World Civilization, London: Allen & Unwin, 1958, p. 169. Living Religions, London: Bailey Bros., 1956, p. 269.

155

Index ALI, 27 Aquinas, 20 £ Aristotle, 19, 39, 65, 92 Asoka, 121, 153 Atman, 81, 108 Augustine, 61 Aurobindo, 99 Averroes, n, 19 ff.

E C K H A R T , 100 £, III

Erasmus, 34 Eucken, 84 ff, 131 FENELON, 47 Francis, St., 12 Franck, Sebastian, 33 ff, 70, 120, 155

BACON, Roger, 23 £ Bayle, 46 £ Berdyaev, 142 Bergson, 101, 126 Bouvet, 42 Buddha, 76, 77, 93, 103, ix, 122, 126, 144, 154 Buddhism, 22 £, 35, 40, 45, 71, 74 £, 77, 88, 102 £, ix, 124, 125, 132, 138, 141 £, 145, 148, 151, 153, 154 CEYLON, 108 China, iii, 49, 55, 59, 83, 92, 94, 95 £, 97, 108 £, 123, 125, 134, 141 Colebrooke, 72 Confucius, 36, 38 £, 40 £, 45, 47, 93, 94, 98, 102, 105, 126, 135, 141, 153 DEUSSEN, 102 Dhammapada, 77 Du Perron, 71 ff.

GANDHI, 103 Gita, 60, 103, 105 Grimaldi, 43 Grousset, 93 HARTMANN, 79 ff. Hegel, 60, 63, 64 ff, 70, 79, 80, 82, 84, 86, 109, 125, 126 Herbert, Lord of Cherbury, 37 f., 43 Herder, 52 ff. Hinayana, 78, 136, 139, 150 Hinduism, 54, 55, 71, 90 102 £, 124, 132, 134, 136, 138 £, 143, 152 Hocking, 128, 129, xii Hyde, 49

INDIA, 54, 59, 62, 66, 73, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 85, 94, 97, 98, 99, 100, 102 ff., ix, 121, 134, 137, 150 Islam, i, ii, 33, 49, 52, 55, 59, 88, 109, 120 £, 124, 125, 134, 138, 142, 145, 152 Ittoen, 143 f. 157

Christianity Among the Religions JAPAN, 54, 83, 94, 109, 121, 135, 142 f. Jaspers, 101, 130, 147 £, 151, 154 Jesuits, iii, 55 John of Damascus, 13 John of Piano Carpini, 21 Jones, 72 Judaism, 13, 15, 16, 20, 27 £, 35, 52, 77, 88, 138, 141 Jung, 100, 101, 137 £, 140 KANT, 37, 71, 73 Keyserhng, 97,101,107 ff., 141 Koran, n, 15, i6ff., 19, 26 ff., 142, 150 LAMAISM, 22, 122 Le Comte, 41 Le Gobien, 46 Leibniz, 42, 43 f. Lessing, 50 ff. Longobardi, 44, 47 Lull, 13, 14 ff. Luther, 33, n3, 129, 142

MACKINTOSH, H. R., 127,129

Mongols, 21 ff. Moses, 20, 42, 125 Miiller, Max, 79 £ NEOPLATONISM, 141 Nestorians, 22 £, 27 Nicolas of Cusa, ii, 112 Nietzsche, 90, 112 £ Nirvana, 76, 102, 113, 136 Northrop, 94 ff. PENNYAFORT, Ramon de, 13,20 Peter the Venerable, n Plato, 34, 71, 73 Polo, Marco, 35

RADHAKRISHNAN, 99 Ramakrishna Mission, 103 Ramayana, 60 Ramsey, 45 Renan, 20 Ricci, 35, 38, 40, 44, 47 Ricoldo da Monte di Croce, 17 f. Ritschl, 86 Rubruck, William, 21 ff.

SANKARA, 104, in Santi-deva, 154 Mahayana, 109, 139 Schall, 36 Mango Khan, 22 Scheller, 91 f£, 123 Manichees, 22 Schelling, 67 ff., 80, 120, 155 Marcel, 101, 115 Schlegel, A. W., 60 Martin, Ramon, 12 £ Schlegel, F., 60 ff. Masson-Oursel, 96 Maya, 73 £, 102 Schleiermacher, 56 ff, 86, 87, 123 Mencius, 135 Schopenhauer, 67, 71 ff., 80, 82, 102, 112 Mohammed, 13, lyf., 20, 24, 26 ff., 35, 125, 152 Schweitzer, 102 ff. Moh Ti, 98 Shi'ah, 138 £ 158

Index Shinran, 142 Shinto, 144 Shotoku, 154 Socrates, 34, 47, 96, 98 Sorbonne, 41 Spalding, 140 ff. Spengler, 89 Stace, nofF. Sufis, 16, no£, 139 Suso, no Symmachus, 124 Synesius, 72, 124 TAGORE, 103 Taoism, 45, 98, 100 Tenko Nishida, 143 £ Tillich, 118 Toynbee, 131, 137 f. Trigault, 39 f.

Troeltsch, 86 f£, 126 £, 129 £, 131,134,139 UPANISHADS, 71 ff, 74, 77, 80, 98, 113, 135, 150, 153 VEDANTA, in Vedas, 62, 71, 80, 103 Vienne, Council of, 13, 14, 19 Von Hiigel, 92 £, 130 Voltaire, 45 £, 47 WEBER, Max, 105 Whitehead, H4ff. Wolff, 44 £, 46 YOGA, 100 ZAEHNER, 136 Ziegler, 112 ff. Zoroaster, 49, 61 £, 88, 125 Zwingli, 33

159

ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 2

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

BRIDGE TO ISLAM A Study of the Religious Forces of Islam and Christianity in the Near East

ERICH W. BETHMANN

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1953 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1953 Erich W. Bethmann All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

978-0-367-62307-4 978-1-003-10879-5 978-0-367-62372-2 978-0-367-63150-5 978-1-003-10913-6

(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 2) (hbk) (Volume 2) (pbk) (Volume 2) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

BRIDGE TO ISLAM A STUDY OF THE RELIGIOUS FORGES OF ISLAM AND CHRISTIANITY IN THE NEAR EAST BY

E R I C H W. B E T H M A N N

LONDON GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD RUSKIN

HOUSE

•

M U S E U M STREET

FIRST PUBLISHED IN GREAT BRITAIN IN 1953

Copyright in the U.S.A.

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act /p//, no portion may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiry should be made to the publisher.

Printed in Great Britain in n point Baskerville type by C. Tinting & Co., Ltd., Liverpool, London andPrescof

PREFACE After having spent twenty years in mission service in the Middle East, on my return to the West I was asked innumerable questions about Islam and Christianity and the relationship between these two great forces. Many of these questions revealed that the average Westerner has only a scant knowledge of the situation in the Middle East. This volume will be an answer to some of these questions. It is hoped that it will be a contribution in its own small way to a better understanding and a more correct evaluation of our fellow men in the Near East. Its aim is to throw some light upon the spiritual background of the people in those lands and to draw attention to the multiple influences which have been at work and which have contributed to create the delicate relationships between Islam and Christianity. The author is fully aware that in order to treat such a subject adequately a volume three to five times this size would be required. But such a work would be too cumbersome for the general reader, and its appeal would be limited to the specialist. This little volume, however, is not written for the specialist in the field of Islamic studies, but for the general reader, and in a special sense for all those who look forward to a life of usefulness in the lands of Islam. Although extensive research has been undertaken, and all facts stated are based on authorities, many topics are for obvious reasons only touched upon and not exhaustively treated. Short monographs such as these on the different countries of the Near East are but pencil sketches and are not intended to give the minute details of the paintings of an old master. Here, too, we should mention that the spiritual aspects and influences are stressed and not the material achievements. To sum it up, this little work is not written to give ready answers to all the manifold problems of these lands, but rather to arouse an interest, stimulate thinking, and, if possible, to 5

O

PREFACE

kindle the desire for further investigation and awaken the urge to make a contribution to a solution. In order to facilitate further study a list of books besides the bibliography has been added. This may prove a help for the inquirer. In the transliteration of Arabic names, the system of the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., has been followed. I would like to extend a special note of gratitude to all who have helped me in the preparation of this little volume. First of all, thanks are due to Miss O. Lattof, librarian of the Near East Section of the Library of Congress, to Miss Thelma Wellman, who had to struggle through the hand-written copy, and to Mrs. E. Howard and Miss J. Neuffer who spent many an extra hour in addition to their strenuous work to give it the finishing touch. Last but not least, my gratitude is due to Professor M. E. Kern, who made it possible for me to complete this project by allowing me sufficient free time to finish it. THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Acknowledgment is hereby made to the following publishers for kind permission to quote from the books as listed. The publisher, author, and title of each book is given in full. Clarendon Press: Sir Thomas and Guillaume Arnold, THE LEGACY OF ISLAM (1931) (Through Oxford University Press). Columbia University Press: James Thayer Addison, THE CHRISTIAN APPROACH

TO THE M O S L E M (1942).

Thomas Y. Crowell Company: Paul W. Harrison, THE ARAB AT HOME (1924). Encyclopedia Britannica: Pope Urban II, THE HISTORIANS' HISTORY OF THE

WORLD.

Funk & Wagnalls Company: S. M. Zwemer, D.D., RAYMOND LULL (1902). Harper & Brothers: W. Wilson Cash, CHRISTENDOM AND ISLAM (1937). Longman's, Green & Company, Inc.: J. J. Considine, ACROSS A WORLD (1942). The Odyssey Press, Inc.: Ncvill Barbour, PALESTINE, STAR OR CRESCENT ? (1947).

Oxford University Press: A. H. Hourani, MINORITIES IN THE ARAB W O R L D (1947). Dante Alighieri, THE D I V I N E C O M E D Y OF D A N T E A L I G H I E R I (1933).

Charles Scribner's Sons: Tor Andrae, MOHAMMED, THE MAN AND HIS FAITH. State Department, Washington, D.C.: Report, RECENT EDUCATIONAL ADVANCES IN EGYPT, April 18, 1946, Dr. Ruth C. Sloan. University of Chicago Press: Wilbur W. White, THE PROCESS OF C H A N G E IN THE OTTOMAN E M P I R E (l937).

World Dominion Press: William Harold Storm, WHITHER ARABIA (1938).

KEY TO TRANSLATION OF ARABIC LETTERS a for Arabic aiiph

f

5 "

" ye

vS

"

" ee " deed

" wau

)

"

" oo" root

u

M

pronounced like a in calm

ay"

" aliph-ye combination

* "

" hamza indicates syncopated break between syllables

« «

« «ayn

dh"

" dhal

th"

" tha

gh*'

" ghayn

kh"

" kha

fe " 4 "

t " 9 " ^ "

£ ^

no

" y " by

equivalent in English

pronounced like th in that

& ^ £

"

" thin thief

"

u

"

" a Dutch guttural h

guttural r

" ba 733 Syrian Orthodox 40,135 3,753 4,984 Syrian Catholic 16,247 Armenian Orthodox 101,747 59,749 Armenian Catholic 16,790 10,048 327,846 Maronites .. 13,349 Protestants8 .. 11*187 10,440 Latins .. 5,998 Nestorians .. 9J78 Chaldaeans .. 4,7*9 6,261 Various .. — 5,666 Jews .. .. 29,770 These statistics are very revealing. Whereas in Syria there are 393,036 Christians of all persuasions among a total population of 2,870,311, in Lebanon there are 660,691 Christians out of 1,126,601 as total population. Lebanon is therefore the only country in the Near East with a slight Christian majority. 142

SYRIA

AND

LEBANON

Furthermore, it is quite significant that in Syria nearly 25 per cent of the Muslims do not belong to the Orthodox Sunna but to the Shi'a and other groups, whereas in Lebanon the Shi'a and Druzes are in the majority, 283,649 against 235,595 Sunnis. That is all the more remarkable as in these countries the Shi'a has developed a number of offshoots which are worthy of consideration. The figures on the Christian side tell the sad tale of remnant groups of once-strong churches and also of their national affinities and their disunity. The Shf Is in the southern Lebanon are called Mutawala.9 They belong to the ordinary Shi'a, the same as we find in 'Iraq and Iran, who believe in the sanctity of the twelve Imams.10 NUSAYRIS In the mountain range east of Tartus stretching to alLadhaqiyya (Latakiya), we find the Nusayris or 'Alawiyyin. They are an extreme group of the Shi'a. Their origin is shrouded in mystery, and no theory has yet been advanced to command general acceptance. They hold that beneath the inexplicable deity four worlds expand: a spiritual world of heavenly beings, the great world of light, beneath which is the lesser world of light in which half-materialistic beings have their abode, fettered to bodies as to graves, but who gradually will be led back to the great world of light; furthermore there is the lesser dark world, lights which have been extinguished, souls which have lost their spiritual qualities and have been changed into matter—as women and animals, for instance; and last, there is the utter darkness where the demons roam. The existence of the universe is divided into seven periods, and the God of the last period is 'All. The Nusayris have deified 'All and have practically become 'All-worshippers. They call him al mcfna, i.e., 'meaning,' in contrast to Jesus, whom they call al kalima, i.e., 'word.' It requires a long period of initiation to be accepted as a Nusayri. The initiation rites are coupled with solemn vows never to divulge the secrets of this spiritual marriage. Only sons of Nusayris can be initiated. Besides the Shi'itic feasts, they celebrate the sun festivals of Nawruz and Mihrgan as well

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

as Christmas, Epiphany, and the day of Saint Barbara. They abstain from camel's meat and rabbit, eel, and catfish, and also from bdmiya (okra) and tomatoes.11 ISMA'ILIS Another group we encounter around Banjas and al-Ladhaqiyya are the Isma'ilis, bitter enemies to the Nusayris. They, too, belong to the Shf a, but they recognize only seven Imams. The sixth Imam Ja'far al Sadiq had nominated his son Isma'il to become Imam, but hearing of his intemperance, he denounced him and transferred the Imamate upon his second son. The Isma'ills refused to accept this change, claiming that it was not permissible to God to change His opinion, because it is God who speaks through the Imam. The followers of that doctrine had to flee, and concealed themselves in different parts of the Muslim world. A part came to the mountain fastnesses of Syria. From here they sent out missionaries to preach the doctrine of the esoterics (Batiniya) and the allegorical explanation of the Qur'an. Their doctrine is: God is without attributes, incomprehensible, and unperceivable. He did not create the universe directly by an act of will, but He made manifest Universal Reason, in which all the divine attributes rest. Reason thus becomes the real divinity of the Isma'Iliya. Reason creates the universal soul, whose essential attribute is life. The soul produced primal matter which formed the earth and stars. To gain salvation knowledge must be acquired which can come only from the earthly incarnation of Reason, that is, the Prophet, and his successors, the Imams. Paradise allegorically signifies the state of the soul which has reached perfect knowledge. Hell is ignorance, No soul is condemned to hell eternally, but is returned to earth in new incarnations until it has recognized the Imam of the epoch and has learned knowledge from him.12 The Isma'ilis at times commanded a large following. At the end of the third century of the Hijra, 'Ubayd Allah ibn Muhammad al Mahdl was recognized as Imam and founded in Tunisia the empire of the Fatimids, which ruled Egypt for a considerable period and which left their deep imprint upon Egyptian life.13 144

SYRIA AND L E B A N O N

Another offshoot of the Isma'Ilis was the Assassins, the notorious secret society which struck terror into the hearts of the Crusaders and all ruling houses of Islam. None of the latter was for a moment sure of his life; suddenly a dagger could be thrown at him by one of these fanatics to bring it to an abrupt end. The founder of this group was Hasan ibn Sabbah, who from his impenetrable mountain fortress in Persia directed the whole movement. The main seat was Alamut in Persia, but the order possessed many castles outside of Persia in Syria. The Crusaders called the mysterious leader the 'Ancient of the Mountain.' It is said that the members of the secret society were given a drug, Hashish, in order to fulfill their often difficult tasks in blind obedience. The addicts of this drug were called hashshashin, from which the word 'assassin' is derived. For more than 200 years the Assassins were the terror of the East until the Mongols broke their power in Persia in 1260, and the Sultan Baybars of Egypt in Syria in I272. 14 Today they are a peaceful community not showing any of their ancient characteristics. The Indian branch of the Isma'ilis is headed by the well-known Agha Khan, who not long ago was weighed in diamonds, the equivalent value of which was distributed for charitable purposes. DRUZES Yet another group that should be considered in this connection are the Druzes. They are about 150,000 strong in the Lebanon and Jabal al Druz. Their origin is also obscure, although they believe themselves to be pure Arabs of South Arabian stock. Professor Hitti, himself a Lebanese, advances a number of rather convincing arguments that point to their affinity with Kurdistan and Persia.15 But whatever the truth may be, the interesting point is their religious belief. To them the Fa timid caliph Al Hakim bi amr illah (996-1021) is the last incarnation of God. He is venerated, if not worshipped, and is called 'our lord.' He was the most eccentric of all Fatimid caliphs, but his bizarre whims and excesses are interpreted symbolically. He is believed to be alive, living hidden in some kind of spiritual transcendence, but will return to earth some K

145

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

day. The Druzes are strict Unitarians. The door of the Druze religion was closed after the death of Baha9 al Din in A.D. 1031. No one can be permitted to enter the Druze fold, but likewise no one can leave it. It is a sacred privilege and a priceless treasure to belong to the Druze people. They have their secret catchwords and the people are divided into initiates and uninitiates. Only the initiates attend their meetings on Thursday nights in secluded spots, the so-called Khalwa. They hold many ideas in common with the Isma'ilis about the universe. From the universal mind emanates the universal soul, and from the latter again the word, or intelligent expression of mind and soul. All religions are forerunners to Druzism. Adam and Jesus seem to stand above other prophets and share in the divine essence. Jesus is featured according to the Docetistic type, not like the Jesus in the Gospels. They believe in the transmigration of souls, and hold that a pious Druze will be reborn in China or Tibet. They are mostly farmers and winegrowers, and have no inclination for commerce. They are very clean, straightforward, and courageous in battle. In the religious field, however, their straightforwardness is completely reversed, because they consider the doctrine of dissimulation as justified; according to this a member of the Druze religion is free to profess publicly any other dogma or creed, if therein should lie his path of safety. Orthodox Islam never considered the Druzes as a branch of Islam, and Ibn Taymiyya went so far as to proclaim that warring against the Druzes is more meritorious than warring against the Armenians. Modern educated Druzes are fervently pro-Arab and cannot be distinguished from any westernized Easterner.16 Most of these aforementioned communities are unknown even to the well-informed Westerner. The West seldom hears about them, and if so, then some queer notion or absurd practices are played up by a casual traveller, which create an altogether wrong impression and leave a distorted picture in the minds of many. The Westerner begins to think that these people are dreadfully backward or that they are simpletons, who have never thought about life, and have no idea of the 146

SYRIA AND

LEBANON

wherefrom and the whereto; hence they should be treated like children, whereas, the contrary is the case. These people have developed highly elaborate systems of thought, which bear witness to their intense interest in all things supernatural, and in life—its origin and its future. Therefore, if the spiritual forces of the West—that is, Christianity—want to gain a foothold among those people, they must send their best-trained and most tactful ambassadors, who do not consider it a loss to follow the Oriental mind in its highways and byways of subtle reasoning, and who are able to cope with it in presenting the message of Christ in such a way that it will find an echo in the Oriental soul. ORIENTAL

CHRISTIANS

In looking once more at the statistics given before, the reader will see a large variety of Christian bodies, and perhaps here is the proper place to make some remarks in passing. In any survey of the divisions of the church universal, three crucial centuries stand out distinctly: the fifth, when after the Council of Chalcedon (451) the Syrian Nestorian body organized the Church of the East, followed in the next century by the schism of the Syrian Jacobites, Copts, and Armenians who adhered to the Monophysitic view of the nature of Christ; the eleventh century which saw the definite break between the Eastern and the Western Church, that is, the Greek Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church; and the sixteenth century, when the various Protestant churches came into being. The Orthodox Church has no vicar on earth, but has one common doctrine and practice which binds her followers together. She is subdivided into national churches—the Serbian, Bulgarian, and Russian Orthodox Churches, for example. The original four patriarchs of Constantinople, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria were equal and independent in administration. The patriarch of Constantinople, being near the seat of the imperial government and later of the Ottoman government, had greater influence, but no greater power. He was primus inter pares. There is no celibacy for the lower clergy, but the higher clergy are taken in general from monastic orders. 147

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

The difference in points of belief from the Roman Catholic Church could be summed up in the following: 1. Procession of the Holy Ghost from the Father alone. 2. Triple immersion in baptism. 3. The use of leavened bread in the mass. 4. Communion in both kinds. 5. Denial of indulgence and purgatory.17 The Syrian Orthodox and Armenian Orthodox are Monophysites. That means that they believe in the unity of Christ's nature, the one nature of the incarnate Word of God. They acknowledge that the Logos was made flesh, but did not assume a human soul. He became flesh in order to manifest Himself to us as God through the flesh as through a curtain. They claim that the body of Christ could not be corruptible else we worship the corruptible. However in the Council of Chalcedon it was laid down (and that is what the Greek Orthodox and all the western churches believe) that Jesus Christ is perfect God and perfect man consubstantial with the Father according to His deity, consubstantial with man according to His humanity, in two natures without confusion or change, without division or separation. Those who follow this rule are called Dyophysites. The Greek Catholics, Syrian Catholics, and Armenian Catholics belong to the Uniates, whom we have already met in the Chaldaeans in 'Iraq. These groups have returned to the fold of the Roman Catholic Church, recognize the pope as their head, and adhere to the dogma of Rome but are permitted to continue certain ancient rites and customs of their own, and to read mass not in Latin but in their respective languages. Whereas those who read mass in Latin are called Latins in the Near East, the others are Rum-Catholics. Rum is the word the Turks used to signify the Greeks. Another very important and prominent group in the Lebanon are the Maronites. The real Lebanese, meaning the people of the 'mountain,' are in fact Maronites. So the term Maronite really expresses more than religious adherence; it expresses a national relationship. This was true especially in former times when the 'mountain' formed an administrative unit by itself under the Turks. 148

SYRIA AND LEBANON

During the sixth and seventh centuries when the Monophysitic controversy was at its height, the emperor Heraclius (610-641) tried to reconcile the warring parties. Finally a new formula was found which stated that in Christ, although being of two natures, the unity of will and purpose (God's and human will) was revealed. But this new formula did not achieve the expected peace between the Monophysites and the Dyophysites. It only helped to create a new faction, the followers of which were called Monothelites. They were living mainly around Antioch and in the plains stretching towards Hama and Horns. When Justinian II, in 685, invaded Muslim Syria and did all he could to persecute the Monothelites and to cripple their influence, they left the plains and retreated into the mountain fastnesses of the northern Lebanon. From there they penetrated farther to the south, and have lived ever since a semi-independent life under their feudal lords. During the time of the Crusades they threw in their lot with the Franks and returned to the fold of the Roman Church in 1182. In 1584, Gregory XIII founded the Maronite College in Rome, which played a decisive part in the organization of the Lebanon Church. The Maronites recognize the pope and have adopted various Roman usages and symbols. They have, of course, abandoned Monothelitism, but they continue to permit the marriage of priests, retain their own fasts and saints and the Syriac liturgy. But for all practical purposes they are Roman Catholics.18 The return of the Maronites as a unit to the fold of the Roman Church provided an opening wedge for the entry of many Catholic orders into Lebanon and Syria. The Jesuits entered first in 1595, but closed their work, only to return later a second time. In 1846 they founded the Oriental Seminary at Ghazir which was transferred to Beirut in 1875, and which developed into the well-known St. Joseph University. Today it is the spiritual and intellectual focus of Catholicism in which an elite is prepared in its theological as well as medical colleges. They have a weekly paper Bashir and a bimonthly review Al Mashriq. The Jesuits alone have under their care 155 elementary schools scattered all over Syria. The Capuchins have been stationed in Syria since 1627, the Carmelites since 1650, the H9

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

Lazarites since 1784. They have no schools under their care. Besides these institutions there are numerous institutions operated by nuns, as for example, the Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul, the Sisters of the Holy Family, and so forth.19 Besides these orders of foreign origin, the Maronites have their monasteries and convents, so that the c mountain' is just honeycombed with Catholic religious institutions. Lebanon is certainly the bulwark of Catholic Christianity in the Near East. PROTESTANT MISSIONS

The first two Protestant missionaries arrived at Beirut in 1823. Their force was strengthened by another arrival in 1827. In 1834 the Arabic section of the mission press was transferred from Malta to Beirut,20 and many books and pamphlets were distributed by colporteurs every year. But these early missionaries felt that the greatest need was the Bible in Arabic. Therefore, the heavy task of translating the Bible was begun in 1847 by Eli Smith and completed by Dr. C. V. A. van Dyck in 1865. It has become the Bible for most Arabic-speaking people in the world, and in 1934 the press could report that it had printed 2,200,000 volumes of Scripture—whole Bibles, Testaments, and portions. The influence and blessing of it, however, cannot be measured in figures. It is one of the best translations of the Bible ever made, and although people at times complain that its Arabic compares unfavourably with that of the Qur'an, it should never be forgotten that Qur'anic Arabic has a standard of its own, and cannot be duplicated. In 1834, the first school exclusively for girls was started. This was certainly a new venture in the Arabic world. In 1870, a large number of small schools could show an enrolment of over 1,200 pupils, including 250 girls. In 1864, the Syrian Protestant College was founded, independent of mission control. It began to operate in 1866 and developed into the famous American University of Beirut to which students flock from all over the Near East. Its graduates return to their respective lands, often to fill posts of high importance, The main interest of the university is to promote knowledge, to raise the moral and ethical standard of all its alumni, and to disregard religious differences. 150

SYRIA

AND

LEBANON

It could not be said that it exercises a definite Christian influence. Professor Addison sums it up in the following statement: c The present ideal of the institution, which grows more secular every year, is that each student should remain in whatever religious status he may happen to be. The conversion of a Moslem to Christianity would be as unexpected as it would be inconvenient.'21 The first indigenous Protestant church of twenty-seven members, among them three Druzes, was organized in 1848 at Beirut after twenty-five years of labour. Protestant forces, including, of course, the Armenians, have now grown to 10,000, most of them second- and third-generation Protestants, as very few changes of allegiance from one Christian body to another occur. In the early times every small band of Protestants had to undergo strong opposition and often persecution, but today this has practically ceased. Besides the American Board of the Presbyterian Church, other mission societies entered. The British Syrian Mission, mostly women workers who have made it their primary aim to work among Muslim women; the Edinburgh Medical Mission which operates the Victoria Hospital at Damascus; the Danish Mission which works farther in the interior; and a number of other societies came to Syria. Dr. Bliss mentions thirty-eight Protestant agencies active in Syria in igi2. 2 2 To unify and to co-ordinate this diversity of Christian endeavour not only in Syria, but also in the other lands of the Muslim East, the Near-East Christian Council was established in 1927 with its executive centre first at Cairo, but later transferred to Beirut B

Considering the enormous efforts which Christian agencies, both Catholic and Protestant, have made in this relatively small area of the Muslim world, we may well ask the question: 'What has been the impression upon the Muslim? What has been the net result? Has the Muslim problem been solved during these long years?' Those who are eager to read the result in statistics about the number of actual conversions will be sorely disappointed. The number is negligible, and the reasons are many. First of all, the Catholics never attempted a

BRIDGE TO

ISLAM

really aggressive missionary programme. They worked among the Christians in the main. And the Protestants saw the need of reviving the ancient Oriental churches with the spirit of the gospel, hoping that by this rejuvenation these might become a potent force in evangelizing their neighbours. Therefore, the main missionary effort in former Turkey during the last century was concentrated upon the Armenians and not upon the Turks. The same was true in Syria. These hopes, unfortunately, have not been fulfilled. The influence upon these ancient churches has been less than anticipated, and the members of the various indigenous Protestant churches in general do not seem more inclined than their Orthodox or Maronite brethren to work for their Muslim neighbours. The indirect influence, of course, cannot be properly gauged. The example of charity, honesty, devotion, and sacrifice of many a Christian ambassador has helped destroy the barriers of prejudice, hate, ignorance, and fanaticism in many a heart, and may have opened many ears to the Christian message which otherwise would have refused to listen. I remember once being invited to a Muslim party where a good number were present. After many secular subjects were discussed, an old doctor stood up and addressed me, saying, 'Today is Christmas, your feast. Tell us something about Christ and let us have a Christian prayer.9 Such a request would have been impossible if the silent seed of some other Christian before me had not stimulated this doctor's heart. How deep this influence of silent example has gone cannot be ascertained, but it can always be felt. When one real converted Christian has lived in an area, he is spoken of and even revered for a long time to come. Missions have largely adopted schools as a means of approach, and certainly countless blessings have been derived from them. But on the other hand, especially in institutions of higher learning the secular, irreverent, agnostic spirit of the West is a most dangerous ferment. It has created a fervent nationalism, eager to imitate Western methods and modes of life which are often based on a purely materialistic concept. The sobering influence of Christianity which makes Western life bearable in spite of its shortcomings is not transmitted to Muslims. This is true because '52

SYRIA A N D

LEBANON

this influence cannot be learned mentally; it must be experienced inwardly, and the result is apparent in modern Turkey, where the church has exchanged one master for another. Formerly it was orthodox Islam which laid all the restrictions upon her. Today it is the well-regimented nationalism, which has no place for a discordant note, which the church with her spiritual claims would strike. E D U C A T I O N IN SYRIA AND

LEBANON

The same situation may eventually arise in Syria and Lebanon, although probably it will be less accentuated. These states have achieved their full independence. Their main concern now is to create a unified national spirit, which is very understandable as it is a matter of life and death to them. In order to achieve that goal their ministers of education have set up a definite programme to which all schools, governmental and private, have to adhere. That again is easy to understand, as a diversity of schools and school systems as was prevalent, especially in Lebanon, would never bring about that envisaged goal. Such a diversity cannot be tolerated. The situation in Lebanon was impossible from a national point of view. There were the Catholic schools modelled according to the French style, making French the medium of instruction and French culture their ideal. There were the Protestant schools based on the American and English systems with the respective attitudes on life. There were the Muslim schools favouring a strong national spirit based on Islam and the glorious past of the Arabs. There were the old mosque schools with a purely religious medieval outlook. The result was four Syrians or four Lebanese who spoke the same language but did not understand one another; as each one of them had received a totally different mental picture, and different ideals were instilled into him by these different educational institutions. Instead of education serving as an agent to bring them closer together, it often separated them and widened the gulf. That a national government cannot tolerate such a situation is evident, but it certainly will mean many readjustments to institutions conducted by mission societies. In looking through the different curricula published by *53

B R I D G E TO ISLAM

Syrian and Lebanon ministers of education, one point stands out clearly. The supreme emphasis is laid upon the study of Arabic and Arabic history, that the medium of instruction shall be Arabic even in the sciences in the higher grades, and that foreign teachers shall be replaced by qualified nationals as fast as circumstances permit, except in cases of experts in certain fields. Further, they require that all private schools come under government inspection and that their pupils qualify in government examinations if they desire a certificate. These restrictions, while they have no important bearing on a school whose purpose is a general education, yet they have a very definitely restrictive attitude toward schools with a particular mission. These regulations are certainly most reasonable, but likewise they may cause many difficulties. One interesting result is seen in the drop of foreign elementary schools in Syria. Tear

1944-45 1945-46 1946-47

Foreign Schools 128

31 41

Enrol-

ment

19,878 3?207 4,388

Govt. Schools 658

737 839

Enrol-

ment

Private National Schools

85>540 99J03

287 312

"4»549

303

Enrol-

ment

43,010 47,224 44.7I923

I submit these statistics only to show the general trend of developments in the educational field in Syria. SYRIANS A B R O A D

This short survey would, however, not be complete, if it failed to mention one particular feature of Syrian life. Not only the most diversified Islamic conceptions are to be found in these territories, not only is the Lebanon the stronghold of Latin Christianity in the Near East, and the field of the oldest and strongest Protestant mission work, but the Syrians and Lebanese are moreover the most widely travelled people among the Arabs. Beginning with the last century, a stream of emigrants went forth from Syria and Lebanon, at first mainly directed to Egypt, but later all over the world. In Egypt, Syrians were the first to start newspapers and periodicals, and gave the impulse of the modern literary awakening of the Arabs. Only two

154

SYRIA AND

LEBANON

periodicals may be mentioned in this place, Al Muqtataf and Al Hildly both of which had a profound influence in shaping the modern spirit of the Near East. Like the Phoenicians of old, Syrians went farther afield whenever and wherever opportunity presented itself. At present we find large communities of Lebanese and Syrians in the United States of America and in the various republics of Central and South America, as well as on the West Coast of Africa, and in Australia.24 Some writers believe that an additional 50 per cent of the population figures for Syria and Lebanon should be added to account for those living abroad. Many of these emigrants are absorbed by the countries of their choice, but a good number return to their homeland bringing with them the modern ideas they have imbibed and the spirit of the foreign countries. It can justly be said that Syria, but more especially Lebanon, is the most westernized of all the countries of the Near East, and that a higher percentage of its population has a fair knowledge of the outside world, not only by hearsay but by personal contact, than in any other Eastern country. The inquisitive and versatile spirit of the Syrian makes him more inclined to start out on new ventures in any line than the more static and conservative spirit of his brethren in the neighbouring countries.

1

Suq=a market or bazaar. Achievements of Civilization, No. i, The Story of Writing, p. 36. 8 H. Lammens, La Syrie, Vol. I, p. 12. 4 R. Fedden, Syria, p. 92. 6 Lammens, op. cit.9 Vol. I, pp. 14, 15. 6 A. H. Hourani, Minorities in the Arab World, p. 76. 7 Ibid., p. 63. 8 The Protestants are split into different groups—Syrian and Armenian —racially as well as denominationally. 9 Singular, Mutawall—those who make friends of (understood by the Shi'a, as friends of * All). 10 F. J. Bliss, The Religions of Modern Syria and Palestine, p. 295. 11 See R. Dussaud, Histoire et Religion des Nosairis (1900); and G. Samne, La Syri e, pp. 337'342. 12 See I. Goldziher, Streitschrift des Gazdli gegen die Bdtinijja-sekte; V. Ivanov, A Guide to Ismaili Literature; B. Lewis, The Origins of Ismd'Uism. 2

BRIDGE

TO ISLAM

18

See Muir, The Caliphate, Its Rise, Decline and Fall, pp. 557-586; De L. O'Leary, A Short History of the Fatimid Khalifate. 14 See de Sacy, Memoire stir la dynastie des Assassins; B. Bouthoul, Le Grand Maitre des Assassins. 15 P. Hitti, The Origins of the Druze People and Religion, pp. 18-23. 16 See de Sacy, Expose de la Religion des Druz.es, 2 vols.; P. Hitti, The Origins of the Druze People and Religion; B. Springett, Secret Sects of Syria and the Lebanon. 17 See W. F. Adeney, The Greek and Eastern Churches; S. H. Scott, The Eastern Churches and the Papacy. 18 A. A. Stamouli, 'Maronites,' The New Schqff-Herzog Encyclopedia, Vol. VII, pp. 188-190; J. Labourt, 'Maronites,' in The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 9, pp. 683-688. 19 The statistical data are taken from Gabriel Oussani, 'Syria,' Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 14, pp. 404-406. 20 This and the following data on Protestant missionary endeavours are taken from J. T. Addison, The Christian Approach to the Moslem, pp. 113-138. 21 Ibid., p. 130. 22 Bliss, op. cit., p. 328. 23 The figures of 1944-46 are given in the yearly report of the Ministry of Education of the Republic of Syria, 1946, in Arabic, p. 62. The figures of 1947 based on a government report were given to me through the favour of the Syrian Embassy in Washington, D.G. 24 See P. Hitti, The Syrians in America.

156

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

PALESTINE AND TRANSJORDAN

R

ALESTINE, the Holy Land, is dear to more hearts in this world than any other country. It unites and has united )re men in their thoughts and has inspired more ideals than any other place; but at the same time it splits men far more deeply into antagonistic camps, and raises far more fury and violent hatred than any other land. Mention the word 'Zion,' and the suppressed hope of millions who have to live in faraway lands, often in squalor and misery, is kindled anew. They are urged on in their struggle for bare existence; and if they approach the valley of shadows and their dreams have never come true, the hope has at least cast some golden rays upon their dreary pathway, and it lingers that perhaps their sons and daughters will experience the joy of throwing off the shackles of bondage and returning home to Zion. Mention the word 'Bethlehem,' and children's eyes begin to sparkle; and even if that 'Child' which was born there does not hold their allegiance very long, yet Christmas, with all that it stands for, will remain a sweet remembrance for all their days to come. Mention the words 'Galilee,' 'Gethsemane,' and 'Calvary,' and the hustle and bustle in many souls quiets down, and silence and thoughtfulness enter. This may be for a few fleeting moments only; but those moments count, because not the length of time we live is of importance, but the moments which are fraught with inner experiences in which we hear the still voice of God. Mention the word 'Al Quds' (Jerusalem), and every Muslim feels elated. At the same time, he feels that the strongest appeal is being made upon his manly qualities to protect such a holy place from all aggression and desecration. Palestine is the most controversial country to be imagined, and ever has been. It is a cockpit of unending conflict. Even its 157

BRIDGE TO I S L A M

name, intead of being related to one or the other of the three great religions which have their home there, points to the invaders from the Greek islands, the Philistines, who frightened the earlier inhabitants of the land with their chariots of iron and their metal-clad warriors. Such has been the experience of Palestine through the centuries. Conquerors came and conquerors went. They brought death and desolation, but also periods of wealth and prosperity. And in our day, this bridge between the continents has again become a major trouble spot, which may involve many a nation before its problems are finally solved. It is not the aim of this study to write a political history of the countries of the Near East, nor to delve into the present political controversies. The struggle, however, between the Arabs and the Zionists has such far-reaching repercussions and has such a definite bearing upon the attitude of the Arabs and Muslims towards the West that it cannot be overlooked. No other question has done more to unite the Arabs and to bring about a feeling of solidarity on the one hand and antagonism against the West on the other than the question of Palestine. Muslims and Jews lived together peacefully for centuries. The Jews were treated like the Christians, as dhimrnis\ and as long as they accepted that state no difficulties arose. There were no ghettos in Eastern cities, although the Jews themselves liked to live among their brethren, and Jewish quarters were the result just as there existed Christian quarters. There was friendly intercourse between the two communities; and during the glorious age of Islam, Jewish scholars helped to spread the fame of Islamic culture. Often the Jews became the intermediaries between the Islamic East and the Christian West. In Palestine the ancient settlements of the Jews in Hebron, Jerusalem, Tiberias, and Safed continued to flourish. There was no strife between the Jews and the Muslims. On the contrary, the Jews had a more peaceful existence under Muslim rule than in many a Christian kingdom. This situation, however, underwent a radical change when Zionism arrived on the scene. J E W I S H MESSIANISM AND ZIONISM

To understand Jewish history in the past, and to have an 158

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AND TRANSJORDAN

inkling of the Jewish future, one must look back to Jewish Messianism. Messianism can be traced to the very beginning of the Israelites, to the hopes and visions of the prophets, and later to the tribulation of the soul under the Roman Empire. It is the Jewish conception of things to come—a complex body of thought and speculation about the destiny of Israel and the salvation of mankind running through Biblical, Apocalyptic, Talmudic, Cabalistic, Rabbinic, and Zionist literature. It finds a different expression in every age, and is subject to many interpretations. Messianism implies faith in the rise of a new order for mankind to be created by persons who are divinely appointed for the task. No matter how long they had to wait, no matter what disasters they had to endure, the Jews were enjoined to have faith in ultimate salvation.1 Jews seldom gave expression to their Messianic dreams and speculations outside their homes and colleges. There, day and night, Jewish mystics sought contact with deeper reality and searched for the secrets of the universe and dreamed of the salvation of their people. Zionism began to translate their dreams and aspirations into the political and economic terms of the modern world. That was extremely revolutionary even to Jewish orthodox thought. It meant that the passive waiting for the restoration was to be replaced by an active endeavour to bring about the restoration. Deliverance cannot be expected by a supernatural intervention, but the Messianic hope will find its fulfilment by working for it. In reality in Zionism the Messiah is replaced by the combined effort of the people for the realization of a national goal. The first fires of Zionism were kindled by Leo Pinsker, a Russian Jew, in 1882, after the pogroms following the assassination of Tsar Alexander II in 1881. Pinsker wrote a book called Auto-emancipation. The fires were brought to flame by Theodor Herzl in his book Jewish State in 1896. In 1897 the first Zionist Congress was held in Basel, and Herzl spared neither time nor effort to bring his plans to realization. At first no definite country for settling Jews was envisaged. Argentina, Uganda, and Kenya were prospected, but soon the influence of Eastern Jewry made itself felt, which demanded Palestine, the old homeland, and no other. But up to 1911 the idea of the Zionists was 159

B R I D G E TO ISLAM

not to establish a separate Jewish State but a Jewish home. At the tenth Congress held at Basel in 191i, the president made the following statement: 'The aim of Zionism is the erection for the Jewish people of a publicly recognized, legally secured home in Palestine. Not a Jewish State, but a home in the ancient land of our forefathers, where we can live a Jewish life without oppression and persecution. What we demand is that the Jewish immigrant to Palestine be given the opportunity of naturalizing as a citizen without limitation and that he can live unhindered in accordance with Jewish customs. . . . That and nothing else is our aim!52 The first step for the actual realization of these hopes was made when Dr. Chaim Weizmann as reward for the valuable service rendered to England in chemical warfare received the promise from the British government that it would consider with favour the settling of Jews in Palestine. That is the famous Balfour Declaration of November 2, 1917, which states: 'His Majesty's Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.'8 This declaration not only laid the cornerstone for the aspirations of the Zionists, but it was also lauded by many influential Christian groups in the Anglo-Saxon world who believed that the return of the Jews to the Holy Land constitutes a fulfilment of prophecy and is one of the sure signs which is to usher in the end of the world and the establishment of the millennial reign of Christ. These groups openly support the Jewish claims. The wide circulation given to these ideas in no way helped to increase the confidence of the Muslims in Christian intentions, but made them more suspicious than ever of the trustworthiness of Christian motives. From the end of World War I, when the Arabs began to realize that the Allied Powers were not going to fulfill their 160

PALESTINE

AND

TRANSJORDAN

promises of a United Arab State and that their aspirations would not be realized, a bitter controversy has been waged on the interpretation of the Balfour Declaration. The Arabs claim that the aim of this declaration was the establishment of a national home for the Jews in Palestine. The Jews declare that it meant Palestine as a national home. The situation has deteriorated from year to year until open warfare broke out between the Arab nations including Egypt under the auspices of the Arab League and the Jews in Palestine backed by powerful world Jewry. What the final outcome will be is very difficult to foretell. The Zionists have had initial success, and by the pressure and influence of outside nations will most likely be able to maintain a government, at least for a period. It is a wideopen question, however, as to how long they will be able to hold that speck of land in the midst of an Arab ocean. Once before Western powers got a foothold in the Holy Land, and established the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but after a short period the enthusiasm for continued support of that kingdom died down in Europe, and the valiant knights, overwhelmed by the surrounding forces of the Arabs, had to leave the country. The hot wind of the desert which has blown for centuries over the ruins of their seemingly impregnable castles whispers the story of enthusiasm, devotion, and sacrifice, but also of failure and defeat because their ambitious project was built on unsound premises. A warning signal to the Jews was given by Dr. Abba Hillel Silver on the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of HerzPs death. He made the following statement: 'Many of the spokesmen of our cause were driven to extol nationalism, per se, which is after all a quite recent and, demonstrably, a quite inadequate human concept. It is not mankind's ultimate vision. Certainly it is not the substance of our ancestral tradition, whose motive is not nationalism but prophetism. Nationalism is not enough. It is a minimum requirement, not a maximum programme. Our national rebirth was made possible by a war in which nationalism was thoroughly exposed and discredited.'4 This fundamental conflict between the Arabs and the Zionists L

161

B R I D G E TO ISLAM

has pushed all other issues and differences into the background. Minority problems among the original Arab population have become practically extinct at the present, as both the Christian Arabs and their Muslim brethren have laid aside their religious differences, and are considering themselves Arabs first in order to repulse the common danger of Zionism. MUSLIMS MORE U N I F O R M THAN IN SYRIA

In comparing figures, it is interesting to note the remarkable difference between Lebanon and Palestine in their respective number of Muslims and Christians. Whereas in Lebanon the Christians formed the majority, and the Shi'is combined outnumbered the Sunnis, the relationship between the two communities is exactly reversed in Palestine. Here, according to the figures of 1944, the Muslims of the Sunni persuasion numbered 15053,521 Muslims of the Shi'i persuasion .. .. 4,100 I Christians of all persuasions .. .. .. 34>599 Druzes .. .. .. .. .. .. 9>i48 Bahai .. .. .. .. .. .. 350 Samaritans .. .. .. .. .. 182* The Muslims are overwhelmingly Sunni, and Christians belong to all persuasions, but are still predominantly Rumorthodox. The Christians, in general, form urban communities and live mostly in Jerusalem, Jaffa, Haifa, Ramallah, Bethlehem, and Nazareth, whereas the rural population is in general Muslim. WESTERN MISSIONS

The interest of Western as well as Eastern Christianity always centred around the Holy Land, and here Islam came into closest contact with all forms of Christianity. Many different orders established houses and institutions in Jerusalem, and the Western and the Eastern as well as the schismatic churches claimed to have a part in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The differences between these various factions often became so violent that the Muhammadan guards of the church had to 162

PALESTINE

AND

TRANSJORDAN

intervene to avoid bloodshed and to restore order. During the past century various Protestant denominations arrived, some with missionary aims, others just to be represented in Palestine. Today a greater diversity of Christian denominations can hardly be found anywhere else in such a relatively small space. This, of course, is rather bewildering to a Muslim inquirer, as he is at a loss what to choose, because each one of these denominations proclaims itself as the only true guardian of the Christian faith. Before the time of the British regime, mission work was largely conducted among the oriental Christians. Only after complete religious freedom was guaranteed by the mandatory power was the evangelistic approach stressed. The results, however, are very meagre and converts few. The Church Missionary Society of England is the oldest society established in Palestine and has done pioneer work in educational and medical fields. A light- and power-house for disseminating the spirit of Christ and an example of practical, living Christianity has been the Syrian Orphanage in Jerusalem. It was founded by the German Pastor L. Schneller, who was moved with compassion when he saw the many orphaned Christian children after the fearful massacres of the Christians by the Druzes in Lebanon and Syria in 1860. The institution has grown marvellously, and has provided a practical education and vocational training for tens of thousands of orphaned boys and girls during the years of its existence. It has become a household word in that part of the world, and is remembered with esteem and affection by all. After World War II it was taken over by an American board. The Y.M.C.A. has one of its finest buildings in Jerusalem, and had become a centre for the modern educated youth of the country before the outbreak of the Arab-Zionist hostilities. The influx of the large number of Jews has opened a new field, but it has also created a new problem for Christian missions. Thus far nothing definite has been done to meet this problem. TRANSJORDAN

Transjordan emerged as an amirate after the end of World War I, and has recently become the Hashimite Kingdom of 163

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

Transjordan under its ambitious leader, King 'Abdullah from the noble house of the Sharifs of Makka. King 'Abdullah is the older brother of the late King Faysal of 'Iraq. Before World War I Transjordan was a backward subdistrict of the province of Syria of the Ottoman Empire. Until the present day it is more truly Arab than Palestine and Lebanon and even parts of Syria, as foreign influence and Western ways have not been able to penetrate deeply. The population is about 300,000; 130,000 of whom are settled in towns and villages. Settled Beduins number 120,000, who, however, still live under tribal law, and 50,000 are nomads. About 10 per cent, or 30,000, are Arabic-speaking Christians, Greek Orthodox, Greek Catholics, Latins, and Protestants. Further, there are about 10,000 Circassians, from the Caucasus, who are Muslims, living in Transjordan. They were settled there by the Sultan of Turkey, after they had had to suffer much persecution by the Tsars of Russia during the early part and the middle of the last century. They still speak their own language and preserve their customs and style of dress. The Church Missionary Society pioneered also in TransJordan, and established a school and a hospital in al Salt. When the Amir, now King 'Abdullah, chose 'Amman as his capital, al Salt declined. 'Amman developed rapidly to a little Damascus, as trading centre for the Beduins. It has become a prosperous new town. Missions followed. The Catholics built a modern hospital at 'Amman and another in Kerak, and Protestants have their schools erected on the hills of the new city. The constitution of Transjordan, ratified July 12, 1946, guaranteed freedom of worship and freedom to maintain schools: 'Art. 16—The State shall protect the freedom to perform religious ceremonies and rites in accordance with the customs observed in the Hashimite Kingdom of Transjordan6 unless they are injurious to order or are contrary to morals. 'Art. 17—Freedom of opinion is guaranteed and every one may express his thoughts in speech or in writing within the limits of the law. . . . 'Art. 21—Societies shall have the right to establish and main164

PALESTINE AND

TRANSJORDAN

tain schools for the instruction of their members, provided that they may meet the general requirements prescribed by law.'7 These paragraphs guarantee religious freedom, but agressive missionary work can easily be stopped, as it can cause disturbance and therefore would be injurious to order. It is the typical concept of religious liberty as considered in a previous chapter. 1

Jeremiah Ben-Jacob, The Future of Jewish Nationalism, pp. 8, 9. Nevill Barbour, Palestine: Star or Crescent? p. 52. * Ibid., p. 61. 4 Abba Hillel Silver, 'Herzl and Jewish Messianism/ as an appendix in Jeremiah Ben-Jacob, The Future of Jewish Nationalism, pp. 24, 25. 5 A. H. Hourani, Minorities in the Arab World, p. 52. 6 The name of the country has been changed to The Hashimite Kingdom of Jordan. 7 Middle East Journal, Vol. i, No. 3, July, 1947, pp. 323 ff. 2

165

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

EGYPT

E

GYPT, like 'Iraq, is the gift of the river. But whereas 'Iraq lies along the trade routes between East and West, exposed to invasions from all sides, Egypt's position is much more sheltered. Her great life-giving stream flows between two deserts which are sufficiently broad that alien hordes cannot easily traverse them. Therefore a civilization and culture could grow up in this large, secluded valley of the Nile with characteristics all its own. Moreover, the heart of Africa did not harbour great civilizations such as India and the farther East; hence the river was not required for external transit trade but mainly for internal traffic. Ancient Egypt was placed not in the centre, but on the fringe of conflicting world interests, and her development, therefore, was more homogeneous than that of 'Iraq. Certainly, in her long history, she also experienced the heel of foreign invaders, but in many instances the delta alone was involved. Often these invaders found the easy-going life on the banks of the Nile congenial and pleasant, and after not too long a time they were absorbed and became Egyptian. Egypt is much more uniform in outlook than any of the other countries of the Near East. The casual traveller who visits Alexandria and Cairo will probably object, because he is deeply impressed by the colourful types and the great variety of people he encounters in these two cities. However, it should always be remembered that parts of Cairo and especially of Alexandria are not typical of Egypt. These are international centres. WHAT ARE THE

EGYPTIANS?

Sometimes Egypt is listed among the countries which form the fertile crescent around Arabia, although strictly speaking, that is not correct. Egypt does not belong to Western Asia but geographically to Africa. In crossing the Suez Canal we have entered Africa and have come to a different cultural sphere. 166

EGYPT

Should the Egyptians then be called Africans or North Africans? That would hardly be acceptable, as we associate in general different groups with these terms, and Egyptians have only slight relationship and very little in common with either the Negroes or the Berbers. What then are the Egyptians? Are they Arabs as modern Arabic propaganda likes to point out? That again would not be correct. It is true that there was an influx of Arabs into Egypt during the early period of Islam; it is true that the Egyptians have adopted Arabic as their language. For more than a thousand years they have discarded their own original tongue. Furthermore, it is true that the great majority of Egyptians have accepted the religion of the Arabs, and have become thoroughly Islamized. Egypt has even been the cultural centre of Islam during certain periods, and at present the al Azhar University at Cairo is the mainspring of orthodox Islam, radiating influence and power near and far in the Muslim world. Yet in spite of all that, the Egyptians are not Arabs but decidedly and distinctly Egyptians. Neither by race nor character are they Arabs. They are not Beduins, roaming herdsmen, split into clans like the Arabs; but they are tillers of the soil. From the very beginning of their history to the present day the great majority of Egypt's millions are fallahin> peasants, either owning their own small holdings, or working as farm hands on the estates of big land owners, Beks and Pashas. These occupations—wandering tribesmen following their herds, and cultivators of the soil—produce very distinct characteristics, so that in many respects the Egyptian is the exact opposite in type and character of the Arab. The majority of the Egyptian villagers eke out a bare existence in spite of unrelenting toil and hard work—an existence, however, which becomes more and more precarious because of the rapidly increasing population and the impossibility of increasing the area of cultivated land. In spite of the proverbial fertility of the Nile valley because of the rich sediment which the stream deposits year after year, it becomes wellnigh impossible to nourish adequately an ever-increasing population. The population in 1917 was about 12,000,000. At

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

present (1948) it stands above 19,000,000. These nineteen millions have to live on an arable area not much larger than the state of Maryland. That means about 1,400 persons per square mile, whereas 172 live on the same area in Maryland, and the latter is one of the more thickly populated states in the eastern part of the United States. This makes Egypt one of the most densely inhabited countries of the world, comparable only to some portions of the Ganges valley in India and the Yangtze valley in China. Such a density of population naturally results in great poverty of the masses, which is increased by the unequal distribution of the land. There is perhaps no other place where people live so crowded together in their villages as in Egypt, as every available inch of ground is cultivated. The lanes between the mud-brick houses are winding and narrow, and it is practically impossible to keep them clean, as donkeys and camels pass through, and cats, dogs, and chickens use them as playgrounds. Thus they become a breeding ground for flies and fleas. To institute real sanitary conditions would mean that these villages would have to be pulled down and rebuilt in a more sanitary style. In addition to the impossibility of financing such a project, there would not be sufficient space on which to build, unless all the villages should be transferred to the edge of the desert. Even the best intentions and efforts for improvement, therefore, will only partly alleviate the situation. As the population increases, the problem becomes more serious. This question of overpopulation has its repercussions in all spheres of life, also in the Muslim-Christian relationship, and must be considered in the planning and the possibilities of mission work. Egypt in her long history has changed cultures and dynasties, has passed through the stages of ancient Egyptian sun worship and priestly cults, of Roman paganism, and Christianity, and finally Islam. Names have changed, yet the life of the simple tiller of the soil has not been too deeply affected. His life has remained much the same. In many instances he uses the same tools as his forebears used thousands of years ago. With leather buckets he lifts the water from a lower level to a higher, and the creaking sound of the water wheel under the sycamore 168

EGYPT

tree is the eternal song of Egypt. Its melody, plaintive and never ending, is full of melancholy. The women live in fear of the evil eye and different evil spirits, jinns and afrits, as in times long ago; and in like manner as their sisters in Pharaoh's day, they try to avert the evil influences by charms and talismans. The saints have changed their names into those of the Muslim walls, who are highly venerated. It is true that all modern inventions have entered Egypt. White luxury trains flash by, bringing visitors from all over the globe to the famous cities of ancient Egypt, as Luxor, Edfu and Siene (Aswan). The automobile reaches practically every village; telephone and telegraph connect the remotest places, but all this has not changed substantially the life of the average villager. Modern life in the larger centres and life as it was lived 5,000 years ago exist side by side. EGYPT'S CONTRIBUTION TO CHRISTIANITY The famous past of Egypt does not concern us in our study, but it is worth while to throw a little light upon the development of Christianity in Egypt. It is widely accepted that St. Mark was the first missionary to this land. He was able to win a strong foothold in Alexandria among the large Jewish community there.1 During the two following centuries Alexandria's theological school had a deep influence upon the dogmatical and theological development of Christianity. Names like Origen and Athanasius may suffice. However, not only in the large cities did young Christianity find its support. Soon it penetrated into the small towns and villages. The Egyptians added one special feature to the life of the church. That is monasticism, which in later centuries wielded such supreme influence, especially in the church of the West. Antonius (born A.D. 251), a native of upper Egypt, was the first to withdraw from ordinary life in order to live a life of contemplation in the desert. Soon a group of similar-minded gathered around him, and under Pachomius, also an Egyptian, the monastery was developed. For centuries, however, monasticism was not looked upon with favour in the West; only when Benedict of Nursia founded the monastery of Monte 169

B R I D G E TO ISLAM

Cassino (529) did it become thoroughly rooted in the Occident. The Egyptian Church accepted Monophysitism2 mainly in opposition to the Greek Church, and has not changed her position since, although this resulted in her being cast off from the main stream of Christianity. When the Muslims entered Egypt under *Amr ibn al 'As in A.D. 639, the Copts, that is, the indigenous population, did not offer a last-ditch resistance, but on the contrary felt rather relieved to be freed from the imperial yoke and from Byzantine interference. At the beginning, the Copts were not treated badly by the Muslims, and were not forced at the point of the sword to accept Islam. During successive periods, however, the Muslim yoke made itself felt, and it became apparent that a Christian was rated as a second-class being with limited rights. Especially was this the case under fanatical rulers who enforced the segregation laws strictly, and added other degrading conditions. For instance, the Caliph Al Hakim bi amr illah, forced the Christians to wear fivepound wooden crosses around their necks. No wonder that many embraced Islam in order to escape such shameful conditions. Therefore, all those who remained faithful should fee all the more commended, and those Oriental churches who kept the faith of Christ alive during centuries of most exacting circumstances should be highly esteemed. Perhaps they represent a rather formal, non-spiritual type of Christianity, and often rebuke is heaped upon their heads by Western writers, but have we in the West any reason to boast of the type of Christianity we have developed? THE FATIMIDS AND

THE A Z H A R

During the centuries of Islamic rule in Egypt, the most outstanding period is that of the Fatimids (969-1171). The Fatimids were Shi'is, or more exactly Isma'ilis, and were able during that period to establish a separate caliphate with its centre in Cairo, in opposition to the 'Abbasid Caliphate, which had its centre in Baghdad. Egypt, therefore, under the Fatimids, became the centre of an empire stretching from Tunisia to the borders of the Euphrates. During that period the foundations of a new city were laid north-east of the gates ofal Fustat. 170

EGYPT

The new city was called al Qahira al Mu'izziya (the conquering city of Al Mu'izz), whence Cairo. In 971 the mosque and school of al Azhar were founded as a Shrite institution, of course. But after the Shfls were driven out of Egypt, al Azhar was taken over by the Sunnis and became during the succeeding ages the one great centre of learning and orthodoxy in Islam. At present, since the caliphate has been abolished by Turkey, al Azhar is the one great rallying point of the orthodox forces of Islam all over the world. Al Azhar is the guardian of the faith and the authoritative exponent of the dogma and the Muslim way of life. The Rector of al Azhar, or Shaykh al Azhar, as he is called, exercises a tremendous influence, far greater than his office might suggest. Students from all over the Islamic world flock to al Azhar to study Islamic law and theology, and having completed their education, return to become teachers and qddis (judges according to canon law) in their home towns and villages. They are highly esteemed and are destined to play an important role in their communities. An average of 1,500 students are enrolled annually, about 90 per cent of them from Egypt. That country, therefore, is still the stronghold of orthodox and fanatical Islam. Al Azhar is the oldest continuously operating university in the world, and until the beginning of the twentieth century was the only institute of higher learning in Egypt. MUHAMMAD

*ALl AND

WESTERN

INFLUENCE

On the other hand, Egypt has been longer under Western influence than any of the other Islamic countries of the Near East. Egypt's modern history begins with Muhammad 'All Pasha. He was an Albanian by birth, was sent as an officer in a Turkish regiment to Egypt in 1801, was able to play the different factions then existing in Egypt one against the other, gained a victory over the British, and finally made himself master of Egypt by murdering the Mamluk Beys who ruled Egypt and had bled it white. Muhammad 'AH was progressive and laid the foundations of modern Egypt. He started modern irrigation in Egypt, introduced cotton—today one of the major sources of wealth. He also introduced primary and secondary 171

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

education and sent specially talented students to European universities, mostly to France. He invited scientists and engineers from abroad to help and to supervise the construction of his intended projects, and was thereby instrumental in tying Egypt closer to Europe, and giving French culture a preponderant influence in Egypt even today. Until recently French was more widely used than English, especially in Lower Egypt. The grandson of Muhammad 'All, the Khedive (viceroy) Isma'il, opened more widely the gates of Western influence. During his reign the Suez Canal was built. He built an opera house, and the Italian composer Verdi wrote a special opera (Aidd) for the inauguration. European players were invited yearly to give their performances. There was more freedom of thought in Egypt than in any other country under Ottoman rule. Many Syrians and Lebanese came to Egypt, daily newspapers were started, and periodicals made it their aim to give translations of the newest developments in Western thought and science. Cairo and Alexandria became important centres where European thought was clothed in Oriental garb and transmitted to the Arabic world. Egypt became the centre of modern intellectual advancement in the Near East.3 In 1908 the National Egyptian University was established as a private enterprise, which has grown into the great Fu'ad University. In 1945, this institution had over 10,000 students enrolled in its eleven faculties. Egypt began to play a double role. She holds in her midst the most orthodox school of Islamic thought and the most advanced schools on Western lines in the Near East. Both groups, the orthodox and the progressive, in the Islamic world, look to Egypt for intellectual and spiritual guidance. Naturally this must lead to tension. It may be interesting to give some figures of the progress made in Fu'ad University and in education in general.

Tear 1935-36 1944-45

FU'AD UNIVERSITY Muslim Christian Jewish Students Students Students 1,754 4,861 2,638 61 7.302

36

172

Total 6,651 10,001

EGYPT

It is remarkable that the percentage of Christian students in the university is much higher (i to 3) than the proportion of Christians to Muslims in the population (i to 13). In 1930 the Fu'ad University opened its doors to women students. To show the progress made in education in general some further statistics may be enlightening. Tear 1928

Type School Elementary Schools Other Schools

Boys 470,449 184,333

Girls 121,552 65,377

1945

Elementary Schools Other Schools

590,449 263,072

450,170 72,276

Total

841,711

This last figure represents about one-third of all Egyptian children of school age. And although the law makes education compulsory and free to every Egyptian child of both sexes, there are at present not sufficient buildings or teachers available to enforce the law. Remarkable is the upward surge in the female attendance in schools. Only one who has laboured among the Muslim falldhin of Egypt is able to evaluate what an amount of prejudice had to be overcome to make that rise possible. The number of pupils who received their education in foreign schools is rather static. In 1928 there were 68,823 pupils and in 1943, 69,179 pupils.5 All foreign schools have to follow the rules laid down by the Ministry of Education. Let us now review briefly the political developments. The lavish expenditures of Isma'Il Pasha had burdened Egypt with a tremendous debt. Soon the foreign creditors laid their hands upon every line of revenue, but Egypt was unable to fulfill her commitments. A revolt started among the army under 'Arabi Pasha; a number of foreigners were massacred in Alexandria in 1882. This provided a good reason for England to interfere in order to restore order and to ensure peace and the security of foreign nationals. In practice she took over the administration of the country. Her high commissioners, as advisers to the Khe173

B R I D G E TO ISLAM

dive, ruled Egypt in fact, although the country remained legally under Turkish suzerainty. Lord Cromer and Lord Kitchener were the shapers of the destiny of modern Egypt. British rule in Egypt as everywhere else was just and benevolent to the individual. But quite naturally British interests were served first, and this again quite naturally led to clashes when the spirit of nationalism awoke in the country. During World War I, Britain declared Egypt to be a British Protectorate and finally severed her from Turkey. After the war, and after heavy pressure by nationalistic forces, Britain declared the independence of Egypt in 1922. Prince Fu'ad was crowned as King Fu'ad I. In reality, the British 'advisory' administration continued to function. Only after a prolonged struggle, Egypt reached in 1936 the status of complete independence. In 1937 the last vestige of the rule of the foreigners, the capitulation laws, were abolished. These laws granted the foreigner extraterritorial rights. This meant that he could not be arrested by the Egyptian police or judged by an Egyptian court. Now, however, he is under Egyptian jurisdiction. Egypt is one of the Muhammadan countries which has freed herself from foreign domination during the last decade. WESTERN CHRISTIANITY IN EGYPT

What part, if any, did foreign mission work have in the shaping of events in Egypt? The Franciscans have had representatives in Egypt practically ever since the time of the Crusades. They were mostly sent out from Jerusalem, and a good number paid for their witnessing with their lives. Toward the end of the fifteenth century and the beginning of the sixteenth, the Bishop of Tama preached for twenty years to Muslims and Copts.6 Beginning with 1687 Upper Egypt was organized as a separate mission district. But difficulties abounded from both sides—from Muslims as well as Copts. Only after centuries of hard toil were the Roman Catholics able to win sufficient numbers of the Copts so that a special vicar could be appointed for the Uniate Copts.7 E. L. Butcher writes: 'By the close of the I7th Century the influx of Roman missionaries and European merchants introduced a new factor 174

EGYPT

into the Egyptian world.'8 These missionaries were working mostly among the Christian population and the slaves, a number of whom had turned Muslim. The first Protestant missionaries who entered Egypt were from among the Moravian Brethren. Count von Zinzendorf, their leader, had a world-wide vision for missions. He sent his brethren to Labrador and to India and contemplated the revival of the Christian Church in Ethiopia and in Egypt. Therefore, it was resolved to start the work in Egypt, and finally in 1752 a doctor by the name of Friedrich Wilhelm Hocker arrived in Cairo. He laboured there with interruptions until 1782. He and two brethren, a watchmaker and a carpenter, were on a self-supporting basis. The doctor found entrance into many homes, and established excellent connections with the Coptic patriarch and high government officials. Yet the result of their labours expressed in figures was very meagre; in 1782 the home board decided to recall the brethren.9 The next attempt was made by the Church Missionary Society of England (C.M.S.). Five young men, trained in the Basel Seminary, Switzerland, were sent to Egypt, among them Samuel Gobat (later Bishop in Jerusalem). They soon discovered that the Muslims were inaccessible, and that the only hope was among the Copts. They began to sell and distribute Bibles and portions of the Bible, and other Christian tracts up and down the Nile. They started a girls' day school and a boarding school for boys, which they developed into a theological seminary for the Coptic clergy. But when this movement for a rejuvenated Christianity began to take hold in larger circles, the government became suspicious and encouraged the most reactionary element in the Coptic Church to take control. Soon difficulties increased, and the work faded out. The missionary force was never large. It started with five men, and for a long period there were only two in Egypt.10 In 1854, the 'American Mission' appeared on the scene.11 Three missionaries sent by the United Presbyterian Church arrived in Egypt. They started, like all missions, by distributing literature and opening small schools, trying to find an opening among Muhammadans. But the only group who seemed to 175

BRIDGE TO ISLAM

respond was the Copts. In spite of opposition and a denunciation read in all Coptic Churches, the 'Protestant Church' was organized and Protestant churches erected in many Christian quarters, especially in Upper Egypt, because the majority of Christians are living between Minia and Girga with Assiut as centre. Large boarding schools for girls were established, a theological seminary at Cairo, and a large college for men at Assiut, as well as two hospitals, one at Assiut and the other at Tanta in the delta. These Protestant undertakings have certainly brought a new element into the field of religion in Egypt. And even if the original hope of reforming the Coptic Church has not been fulfilled, it certainly has stirred her to new activity; and just as the Roman Catholic Church after the Reformation abolished many of her former abuses and laid emphasis on points formerly neglected, in like manner the Coptic Church at present is not the same as she was one hundred years ago. And it can be noted that in places of greatest Protestant activity the Coptic Church is most alive. In 1882 the C.M.S.12 re-entered Egypt with the sole purpose of work among Muslims. A number of outstanding men among them gave their service, and have done much to prepare the way for that work. Douglas M. Thornton and Reverend W. H. Temple Gairdner are among the most prominent. The latter's book, The Reproach of Islam, is an inspiration to every one interested in these questions. In 1905 the Nile Mission Press was founded with the special purpose of providing literature in Arabic suited for Muslim readers, as well as such of a general Christian character. The Nile Mission Press has become the centre of Christian literature publication for all Muslim lands. During 1938 it distributed 500,000 books and tracts for readers in at least twelve countries.18 Medical work was also started, and the Mission Hospital in Old Cairo has become well known all over Egypt. Another hospital operates at Manuf in the delta. Besides these two larger missions, the Egypt General Mission works in the delta. The Y.M.C.A. with its centres in the larger towns has had a profound influence in pulling down the barriers of prejudice and 176

EGYPT

bringing together young people of different faiths in an informal manner. The influence has been so great that Muslim's shaykhs started a similar organization and called it Y.M.M.A., Young Men's Muslim Association. But whereas the greatest asset of the Y.M.C.A. is its true Christian spirit of tolerance and forbearance, the Y.M.M.A. soon developed the opposite tendencies and became a stronghold of fanatical Islam. Inherent in the Protestant way of life is freedom of thought and tolerance, allowing a diversity of opinions. That might be at times detrimental to its own cause, but the conviction that truth by its own valour will be victorious without the help of enforcing laws and restrictions is such a lofty conception that it never should be abandoned, even if we have to go through dark periods during which the lawless forces take advantage of misunderstood liberty. Side by side with the Protestant schools, sometimes even furthered by them, entered the modern, irreligious, agnostic, materialistic spirit, a spirit which doubts everything, tears down everything without being able to build up a satisfying structure in its place. This, of course, it is unable to do, as it leaves large sections of life out of consideration—all spiritual and supernatural elements. This modern spirit, whose logical outcome is pure materialism, with its enthronement of self, is somewhat tempered in the West by the Christian heritage and the stillexisting Christian faith and sentiments in many members of the community. But this modern spirit causes absolute havoc when taken on its face value without the Christian background. And that is just what is going on in the East. This attitude is like a powerful dissolvent; it cuts people from their moorings, and leaves them drifting. It develops cynics. Thus it has come to pass today that not only the often fanatical spirit of Islam has to be met, but also the irreligious attitude of the West with its impact on the Eastern mind. I N F L U E N C E OF THE CINEMA

Another extremely detrimental factor towards a right evaluation of the Christian way of life in the Muslin mind is the movies, especially in the smaller centres where only second- and M

177

B R I D G E TO ISLAM

third-class films are shown. Occidentals look at a film story and know it is a bit of fiction. We know where it is exaggerated, highly coloured, sensational. Not so the average Muslim. No other knowledge of Christian ethics are his to correct what he sees, to suggest to him that he should discount a good deal of what passes before him on the screen. He accepts the full story literally and at face value. The life he sees featured on the screen is for him the Christian way of life, because the films are produced in Christian countries, hence are an expression of Christian culture, because for the Muslim, life is not separated into a divine and a secular sphere. It is still one. Do you wonder that he does not cherish a high admiration for Christianity? How often the author felt an undertone of derision in conversation with Muslims when discussing Christian aspects of life. It often took many hours to dislodge some utterly wrong notions which were conceived, quite naturally, from attending the pictures. The harm films have done for the reputation of the Westerner is seldom realized; we only feel shocked when we do not receive the respect from the Easterner that we foolishly imagine is due us. To be equal to such a situation requires that as Christians we remember that our only power is spiritual power taken from the divine source by constant communion with God, a power which not only changes our lives but which can become through us the greatest uplifting and constructive force in the world. This power does not create biting cynics but men full of vision, inspiration, and love. That is the only power, and yet the mightiest, we Christians have. Political moves, economical schemes, and financial plans count for nothing beside this power of God. It is the only power a Christian worker must depend upon, and he will have to depend upon it in a much larger measure in the days to come. REACTION OF EGYPTIANS TO F O R E I G N CHRISTIAN I N F L U E N C E

What are the reactions to mission work in Egypt? The conversions from Islam to Christianity are very few, and in no proportion to the effort expended—in fact, they are even offset

EGYPT

by the numbers of Copts who accept Islam every year; yet the attitude of Muslims toward missions has always been hostile. Whenever a convert was registered, a storm of protest was raised in all the papers. It was loudly demanded that the work should be closed, and the missionaries expelled. During the year 1942, among other proposals, the following was laid before the Committee for the Protection of Public Morals: Tight against missionary work: "A law is being prepared to oppose missionary work and prevent the influencing of Muslim children in foreign schools by any means of propaganda or missionary work, whether by books or publications or requiring them to attend classes for instruction in any religion other than their own, or by any other means." ' The law did not pass. It shows, however, that strong forces are at work which aim at eliminating all foreign religious endeavours.14 These forces have in no way decreased since World War II. On the contrary they are rather on the increase. Whereas formerly the National Movement, which found its expression in the Wafd Party, tried to bridge religious differences and to create an Egyptian national feeling regardless of religion and ancestry, in recent years radical groups have gained the upper hand, as, for instance, the Muslim Brotherhood (Ikhwan al Muslimin) of Shaykh Hasan al Banna, who fight fanatically for the realization of Muslim aspirations and are hostile not only to missions but to Christians in general. That spirit of considering Christians as equals on a national basis is fast disappearing. Missions may easily encounter more difficulties and restrictions in the future. That, of course, does not mean that their influence has come to an end, although they may be shown the door. If, however, they have been able to create stalwart Christian characters among the indigenous population, their existence will have been vindicated. Times of storm and stress are always the most fruitful times in spiritual development. 1

E. L. Butcher, The Story of the Church of Egypt> Vol. i, pp. 20, 21. 2 See pp. 175, 176. 179

BRIDGE TO ISLAM 8

See A. E. Weigall, A History of Events in Egypt from 1798-1914. The statistical figures are used with permission of Dr. Ruth G. Sloan from a report prepared for the State Department, Washington, D.C., entitled Recent Educational Advances in Egypt, April 18, 1946. 5 Ruth C. Sloan, op. cit. 6 Holzapfel, H., Handbuch der Geschichte des Franziskanerordens, pp. 250, 2514

8

Butcher, op. cit., Vol. 2, p. 286. See Th. Bechler, Die Herrnhuter in Agypten; and Charles R. Watson, Egypt and the Christian Crusade, pp. 131-142. 10 J. T. Addison, The Christian Approach to the Moslem, p. 141. 11 Ibid., p. 142. 12 Ibid., p. 144. 18 Ibid., p. 148. 14 C. G. Adams, Trends of Thought in Egypt,' in The Moslem World, Vol. XXXIV, 1944, p. 271 ff.; see also G. C. Adams, Islam and Modernism in Egypt (I933)9

180

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

TURKEY ^ I ^HE whole Arab world is in a process of change. The I impact of Western thought. Western science, and Western A industrialism is too strong to be ignored. The old social order based upon a patriarchal form of life, fortified by religious sanction and traditional usage, cannot withstand this onrush. But the Arab countries, each of them in a different stage of this process, hope to perfect that change in a more or less gradual manner. They endeavour to find a synthesis between their Eastern way of life, with its deep-set roots in religion and custom, and the Western way with its relentless drive for further subduing and utilizing the forces of nature for its own materialistic end. The Arab countries looking toward the West are trying at the same time to save what can be saved from their old heritage. TURKEY

TURNED

WEST

Turkey, on the contrary, has turned West radically, and has severed all bonds which connected her with her past. She accepted the modern scientific principle—which states, 'Truth is what can be proved*—as her guiding star, and discarded wherewith all religious beliefs which accept certain premises by faith. After the vivisection of Turkey following World War I, and the dividing of Anatolia, her mainland, into spheres of influence of foreign powers, Mustafa Kamal, later called Kamal Ata Turk, rallied the Turks around his banner, promising to free Anatolia from the foreigner, and to make Turkey a living place for the Turks. No longer encumbered by a large number of alien races for which the Turk as guardian of Islam had to spill his blood in endless wars, the Turk could fight for the first time in his long history for his own benefit—for Turkey alone. A new nationalism was born, whose watchword was Turkey for the Turks, and Mustafa Kamal Pasha became its leading 181

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force. It was a nationalism backed by the deep interest of selfpreservation in the face of overwhelming odds, In September, 1922, the final military victory over the Greeks was won. As soon as the peace treaty was signed, Mustafa Kamal set himself to the task of building a new Turkey out of the ruins. It was not a rebuilding of the old nor a reform of the old, but a complete new beginning involving a radical break with the past. As we have formerly seen, religious and political institutions are completely interlinked in Islam, and cannot well be separated. Therefore, any law directed towards a separation of church and state, so to say, is basically against Islam. The significance and importance of any such law has to be evaluated from this angle. On March 3, 1924, the caliphate was abolished. That meant that Turkey did not wish any longer to take the responsibility for safeguarding Islam. It is true that the caliphate was a tottering institution which had not functioned efficiently for a long time, but as long as the caliph existed, he was a powerful factor in holding up the spiritual unity of the world of Islam. In 1928, Kamal Ata Turk forbade the wearing of a distinctive dress for religious teachers, which hit both alike—Muslim shaykhs and Christian priests. The wearing of the fez or tarbush was made illegal, and the European hat was introduced. That might seem trivial to Western minds, but in the East, headgear is the distinctive sign of class and religion—an age-old and age-honoured custom. Furthermore, the wearing of a hat made it difficult to fulfill the prescribed ritual of prayer, because the Muslim has to prostrate himself before God, touching the ground with his forehead. At the same time he has to keep his head covered. This is easily done by one who is wearing a fez or tarbush, but it is well-nigh impossible while wearing a modern hat with a brim. Kamal Ata Turk forbade all religious orders, considering them to be a hotbed of fanaticism. He forbade polygamy, abolished the veil, and gave women equal rights and equal possibilities in education. Today, twenty years after these revolutionary reforms, women can be found in all walks of life in Turkey. One of his far-reaching reforms was the abolishing of the Arabic script, and the introducing of the Latin alphabet. 182

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Arabic is a most beautiful script, but it requires a scholarly knowledge of the language to read and write it correctly. The Latin alphabet is for the average man much easier to master. Ata Turk himself went from place to place to introduce and teach the new alphabet, and the whole Turkish nation went to school. Hand in hand with the introduction of the Latin characters, the Turkish language, as far as possible was purged from Arabic words, which constituted about 60 per cent of the language. Old Turanian expressions were revived. At the same time great efforts were made to make the Turks forget their Islamic past and to glorify their pre-Islamic days, when they had lived in the steppes of Turkmenistan and Western Asia. Everything was aimed to set the Turks on the new road of nationalism, unfettered by religious bonds. Kamal Ata Turk, although inaugurating a constitutional regime, ruled with dictatorial powers. It is the only way to achieve such far-reaching changes in so short a period among a people who had never known how to express their will, and who were wholly untrained to share in public life. At the same time, Kamal Ata Turk wanted to introduce a real parliamentary system, but one trial convinced him that the time was not yet ripe for it. Many thought that his more or less dictatorial regime would collapse with his death, but it has weathered the storm. Today Turkey is stronger than before, although she is menaced from many sides. In a short span of time Turkey has undergone the most complete change ever made by any country. From a medieval state she has passed into a modern state. Turkey has broken with the old traditional Islam and has severed the bonds with her Islamic past, but has she really broken with Islam? Has she really accepted the full liberal attitude of the United States, for instance, where the state does not interfere with the religious beliefs of the citizens? What is her attitude toward Christians? Is there a more tolerant attitude? In old Turkey, under the so-called millet-system, Christian communities were recognized, and their patriarchs had full legal authority over their respective communities, with the right to operate schools and other institutions according to their

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own designs. In the new Turkey the number of Christians has been greatly reduced. All those of Greek origin living in Asia Minor have been transplanted to Greece, and Turks formerly living in Greek territory, like Macedonia and Thrace, have been taken over. Other Christians, Armenians and Syrians, have emigrated, so that today practically no Christians are left outside of Istanbul and vicinity, a bare 2 per cent of Turkey's 19,000,000 inhabitants. Turkey is today more solidly Muslim than ever before because a non-muslim is not considered to be a Turk. She has solved her religious problem by eliminating the minorities. In 1924, education became entirely secular. That means that it was forbidden to teach any religion in schools. Foreign schools which felt they could not comply with this regulation had to close. That was in no way an unfriendly act against Christian schools, because the law was enforced with equal vigour against the teaching of Islam in schools. Religion from this point of view just has no place in a well-ordered state run on modern scientific lines. In the thought of New Turkey, religion would introduce a foreign, transcendental element, which cannot be correctly measured, and its latent potentialities cannot be safely gauged. The result is that Turkey is still a closed country and that there exist fewer possibilities for Christian work today under the modern Westernized government than under the 'terrible5 Sultan 'Abd al Hamid. ENTRANCE OF WESTERN CHRISTIANITY

Turkey came into closer contact with Western Protestant Christianity when, in 1820, American missionaries landed on her shores. After having made an extensive survey, the American Mission decided to lay its main emphasis on the work among the Armenians (1831), and for the next eighty or ninety years the Armenian work absorbed practically the whole interest and all the energy of the mission.1 When the fearful massacres broke out in 1895, the Armenian Protestant Church had a membership of about 12,000 and about 20,000 adherents. During the massacre 10,000 were lost.2 In Constantinople a famous educational institution, similar to the American University at Beirut, had been developed. 184

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Its name is Robert College. Like the American University at Beirut, it operated independently from the mission board. But whereas in Beirut a good number of Muslims were among the students, in Constantinople the student body consisted mainly of Greeks, Armenians, and Bulgars. This was so because the Sultan had decreed that Turks should receive their education solely in government schools.3 The Church Missionary Society arrived in Constantinople in 1858 with the sole purpose of working among Muslims. They brought Gottlieb Pfander to Constantinople from India, where he had worked successfully. Pfander is the author of the famous controversial book, Mizan al Haqq (Balance of Truth). He together with Dr. Koelle from West Africa, a famous linguist, began to work openly for Muslims by preaching and giving Bible studies. In 1864 on one occasion ten adults were accepted into the church. The High Porte became alarmed and acted quickly. It imprisoned the Turkish Christians, closed the assembly hall of the Mission, confiscated all the books of the Bible Society, and ejected the missionaries from their homes. Pfander retired to London, where one year later he died. In 1877 the Church Missionary Society abandoned the station.4 This experience proved that the indirect methods by schools and hospitals seemed the only advisable way of approach, even if these institutions were not frequented much by Muslims. Their sole existence would help to disseminate the light, truth, and love of a real Christianity. Did these institutions fulfill their purpose? At present Turkey is again a closed land. This has been brought about by the adoption of Western nationalism. Whither Turkey is moving is the question in many minds. Certainly Turkey is beset with many outside dangers, which may spell disaster, but that does not concern us at present. Whither Turkey at the spiritual crossroads of the world? Many thoughtful Turks who have enthusiastically supported the swing to the West begin to wonder whether modern scientific and purely materialistic thinking is the answer to all questions after all. These men and women wonder whether nationalism alone, however pure its flame, will have sufficient strength to satisfy the soul of the people. 185

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They are disillusioned, because World War II exposed the utter fallacy of the modern materialistic approach to life. They begin to doubt whether the decision to discard Islam was a move in the right direction. There is a widespread feeling that they should return to Islam—a modernized Islam of course—a nationalized Islam, perhaps a philosophy of Islam after the pattern of the Indian thinker Iqbal. But a modernized Islam is not Islam any longer, and a modernized Islam cannot satisfy the spiritual longing of a people, especially if the only service expected from it is to become the handmaid of nationalism, to furnish the religious trimmings to an otherwise purely materialistic outlook on life, just as Christianity loses all its power and strength when it is summoned only to support some claims of the state. Turkey is again at the spiritual crossroads either to continue in her course decided upon twenty-five years ago, or to reintroduce Islam in a modernized form. Or do we Christians have a solution for Turkey? Are we able to bring to them a Christianity stripped of all the ballast of the centuries, of all the squabbles of the ecclesiastics, and of all narrow national concepts? Are we in a position to bring a purely spiritual Christianity?—the spiritual message of Christ, pure and simple, which goes directly to the human heart, which does not recognize Greek or Turk, black or white, but which knows only human beings who, with minds bewildered and hearts in trouble, are looking in vain for life's solution? The message of Christ, which reveals human ambitions in their right perspective, changes the whole attitude of life and brings peace and serenity to the heart. Are there enough Christians who are prepared to bring this kind of Christianity to the Turk? Are there enough among us who have the vision to see the need of the world and to fill that need? Modern Turkey today is a mighty challenge to the spiritual forces of Christianity.

1

J. T. Addison, The Christian Approach to the Moslem, pp. 81-83, * Ibid., p. 88. * Ibid., p. 91. 4 /foW., pp. 94, 95186

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G

)ING east from Turkey, we reach Iran, although the most accessible approach in our days is via Baghdad. The frontier post at Khanikin is really Iran's gate to the West. Iran belongs to the Islamic sphere, but Islam in Iran is different just as the people of Iran are different. They are neither Semites as the Arabs, nor Turanians as the Turks, but are predominantly Ayran. Iran means the land of the Aryans. The inhabitants of the country never called their land Persia, as it was and still is more widely known in the West. The name Persia is derived from Fars, one of the south-eastern provinces of Iran. LAND

OF THE

ARYANS

The original home of the Aryans is believed to have been around the shores of the Caspian Sea. There two main streams of migration set out; the one climbed to the high tablelands of Iran, settling partly there, partly surging further eastward through Afghanistan to settle finally on the plains of Northern India. They subdued the original inhabitants, became the ruling class, and shaped the destiny of India. They produced the songs of the Vedas, and had a large part in developing the different systems of Indian thought and philosophy. The other great stream of migration went West, settling all over Europe and producing the culture of the West. Both streams together formed the great Indo-European group of peoples, or Aryans. The Aryan relationship of the Iranians can also easily be demonstrated by their language. Not only are the roots of many words the same as those in European languages or with Sanscrit, but also the structure often varies only a little. For instance, Iran has pader for father, mader for mother, dochtdr for daughter; likewise, many verbs show the close relationship:

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griftan, to grip; in German, greifen; burdan, to burden, and so forth. Furthermore the grammar is typically that of an Aryan language, and bears no resemblance to that of a Semitic language. From a religious point of view, ancient Iran produced a system of thought with a resulting philosophy of life that promoted lofty standards of right and honour. In many respects it resembled the Biblical concept. The main difference, however, was that the Iranian system of thought was built on a dualistic principle and not on a strict monotheistic basis. Two powers were recognized: the power of light and the power of darkness. Ahura Mazda was the Lord of Light, of Purity, of Righteousness, of Great Knowledge, of Goodness. Opposed to him was Angra Mainju or Ahriman, the Lord of Darkness, the Lie, the Principle of Evil. Both Ahura Mazda and Ahriman were believed to possess creative powers, whereas according to Biblical conceptions God alone has creative powers, and Satan is able only to use, pervert, and misuse created matter. Life was viewed as an eternal struggle between these two forces. Man was considered to be a creature of value and dignity endowed with the freedom of choice. He was free to align his powers with either one or the other. The path of his duty, was to fight on the side of Ahura Mazda, the Lord of Righteousness, until Ahriman's forces were overcome. Children from their earliest childhood were taught to shun the lie as the worst of all evils. Finally, on the day of reckoning, they believed that Ahriman would be conquered, evil would vanish forever, and eternal goodness would prevail. The holiest symbol of this religion was fire; it was the great cleansing power. The heavenly fire endowed man with creative powers. Therefore 'fire' received worshipful attention. Such was the religion of the kings of ancient Persia, of Cyrus and Darius, of Cambyses and Artaxerxes, the lords whom Daniel and Esther served. Another figure was introduced, the figure of Mithra, the lord of wide pastures, the truth-speaking, the thousand-eared, the myriad-eyed, the exalted, the strong, the sleepless, the vigilant, the invincible, the protector of the needy, the mediator, the helper of man in his fight against Ahriman the Lie. 188

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Mithraism, substantially altered by Babylonian influences but still retaining much of its original form, became the cherished cult of the Roman legions. Sanctuaries of Mithra have been found all over Europe, especially at the frontier stations of the Roman Empire. For a long time Mithraism was the strongest rival of Christianity, as the figure of Mithra with all its praiseworthy qualities resembled in a large measure the figure of Christ. Many of the symbols of this cult found their way into Christianity, and today are accepted as genuinely Christian. Among the symbols and ceremonies practiced in Mithraism, we find the use of bells and candles, the use of holy water, and communion. Sunday was a day of worship, and December 25 was sanctified.1 At any rate, the ancient Iranian religion, as it was laid down by Zarathustra (Zoroaster is merely a Latin corruption),2 developed in man a high moral standing and placed upon him the responsibility of combining his forces with Ahura Mazda, the Lord of Light, in the struggle against the forces of darkness. In this system of thought there was no room for complacency or fatalism, which with the spread of Islam has completely enveloped the East. Only faint traces of that original ideal have remained among the Iranians. Thirteen hundred years of Islam, the fearful Mongol invasions under Genghis Khan, and later Tamerlane and his Tartars, have devastated the fair land of Iran and stamped out the lofty ideals of that ancient time. When the Arabs came, the Zoroastrian religion was officially tolerated, but it rapidly lost its hold on the people, and at present only small groups can be found in Eastern Iran where they are known as Gabrs. A more numerous group went to India and settled in Gujerat mostly around Bombay. There they form the very wealthy community of the Parsees, practicing their ancient rites. The spirit of'Ancient Persia,' however, is not wholly extinct. Just as among the Arabs ancient desert poetry is still alive, so among the Iranians, Firdausi's great epic, the Shah Namah, completed A.D. 999, has made the ancient legends and history of Iran immortal. And Firdausi's verses are more widely known and recited in their original language and beauty by the 189

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common man than any other work of similar nature among Europeans. Firdausi has stabilized the Iranian language, just as the Qur'an has fixed the Arabic, or Luther's Bible translation the German. Everyone who is interested in gaining an insight into the mentality of the Iranian should have a knowledge of the Shah Namah, just as he must comprehend the spirit of The Thousand and One Nights and some desert poetry if he wishes to penetrate deeper into the mind of the Arab, or as he has to know something of baseball and football to strike a responsive chord in a modern American's heart. The battle of Nehavend in A.D. 642 was the great turning point in Iran's history. In this battle the forces of the Iranian dynasty, the Sassanids, which had revived the ancient Persian religion, were finally overwhelmed, and the victorious Arabs swept even to the outer boundaries of the realm, establishing the religion of the prophet wherever they went. The Arabs were not at all numerous in this newly acquired but vast territory, It is, therefore, all the more remarkable that they were able to establish their hold upon Iran for a long time to come, and to exercise such a profound and enduring influence upon this land and ancient culture. They, however, did not succeed in imposing their language upon the Iranians, as they did in Egypt. Iranian remained a separate language, although the Arabic script was adopted, and thousands of Arabic words filtered in. I R A N I A N I N F L U E N C E ON ISLAM

The Iranian pulse of life was too powerful to be subdued for long, and as it has happened so often in history, the conquered avenged themselves by subduing their conquerors culturally, changing thereby to a large extent the concept and outlook of the latter's life. Soon the Iranian influence made itself felt in the Arab empire of Islam. The overthrow of the Umayyads in Damascus (A.D. 750) and the establishment of the 'Abbasids in Baghdad was due mainly to the Iranian support of the latter. Under the famous caliph Harun al Rashid, for instance, Iranians were prime ministers, and occupied many of the highest positions in the empire. With them the pomp and grandeur of an Oriental monarchy entered into Islamic life. 190

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The caliph surrounded himself with bodyguards of foreign extraction, and became more and more remote and unapproachable to the common people of his realm. This was an idea utterly foreign to the simple tastes of the Arabs, where the poorest Beduin may approach his ruler without fear and hesitation. Besides that fundamental difference in the conception of the state, its ruler, and his function, which was introduced into Islam by Iranian influence, the cultural influence of Iran soon made itself felt. Many famous scientists and philosophers of this and later periods who contributed much to spread the fame of Arabic and Islamic culture were of Iranian origin.3 To name only a few: al Ghazali (1058-1111), the founder of Sufism and expositor of Islamic theology, was Iranian; Ibn Sma, known as Avicenna in the West (979-1037), the famous physician and greatest philosopher of the age, was Iranian; al Biruni (973-1048), the mathematician and philosopher, was likewise Iranian; furthermore, Abu Bakr Muhammad al Razi (864-925), perhaps the most famous doctor of the Middle Ages, whose discoveries were considered basic, and were unsurpassed during centuries. The poets, as Omar Khayyam (died 1132), Sa'adi (1193-1292), Jalal al Din al RumI (1208-1283), and Hafiz (1320-1384), well known also in Western circles, wrote in their mother tongue. Their verses are still repeated and sung by high and low, by shah and muleteer, in Iran. Even the formerly mentioned collection of The Thousand and One Nights is largely Iranian in origin. Iranian influence penetrated into all spheres of life, but as it used Arabic largely as its mode of expression, and as it was eagerly absorbed by the Arabs, it is difficult to establish a distinct demarcation line between the Arabic and the Iranian element in Islamic culture. Both elements together with further additions from Christian and Oriental sources form the complex body of Islamic culture. The Shi'a preachers early lent their power and talent to support Iranian nationalism in opposition to pan-Islamic imperialism. Hence, when the central power of the 'Abbasids waned, Iranian nationalism was able to assert itself, and Iranian dynasties followed, adopting officially the Shi'ite form of Islam. Iran has clung to the Shl'a ever since, alienating herself thereby from

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her neighbours to the west and to the east, so that her relations with Turkey and Afghanistan were often not only strained but openly hostile, as both are staunch supporters of the Sunna. The Shf is are in some respects more fanatical than the Sunnis, especially in their particular beliefs regarding the imamate. On the other hand, they are more easily accessible to outside and also to Christian ideas than the Sunnis, as their religious conceptions are not confined to a vigorous formalism. For instance, in their belief in the imamate and the hidden Imam as an everlasting guide, they find a clue to understand the doctrine of the incarnation. As most of their imams have met with a violent death, to which a vicarious meaning has been attached, the cross on which Jesus expired to redeem the world does not become to them the fatal rock of offence, as it does to the Sunnis. During the first days of Muharram until recent years thousands marched through the streets lashing themselves with whips and chains, and inflicting wounds upon themselves with swords. The doctrine of atonement is more easily comprehensible to them because of the sufferings of Husayn, which gave him the right to be an intercessor before God in behalf of his followers, and which are remembered yearly throughout the land. Furthermore, their belief in the paighambar akhira zamdn (the messenger of God or prophet of the last time), who will restore righteousness, helps them to understand the second coming of Christ in which the Christian hope finds its ultimate consummation. These foregoing remarks might convey the impression that Christian mission work should have found a ready welcome in Iran, and that it should not be too difficult to bring a Shfi into contact with Christ. To draw such a conclusion, of course, would be premature. It has been proved, however, that it is easier to win an Iranian than an Arab, and churches exist in Iran whose members are without exception converts from Islam. Before we enlarge on this topic, a few remarks on Iran might be in order. GEOGRAPHICAL

AND

ETHNOGRAPHICAL

REMARKS

Iran is the connecting link between Western and Central 192

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Asia. Her high tablelands, which have an average altitude of 4,000 feet, are surrounded by mighty mountain ranges, which fan out from the Armenian highlands and the Caucasus mountains, stretching eastward towards the Hindu Kush mountains and the Pamir plateau, and south-eastward parallel to the Persian Gulf, towards the mountain ranges of Baluchistan. Their peaks often reach the height of 10,000 feet, and the Demavend north-west of Teheran towers with his 18,600 feet far above all the others. Large tracts of land are barren wastes due to the lack of rain, but wherever water is found, beautiful oases have sprung up, in which larger and smaller towns thrive. The climate in general is healthful, although the temperature varies from extreme heat in summer to a biting cold in winter. During a considerable time of the year strong, persistent, north-westerly winds blow, so that the Iranians were the first to conceive the idea of harnessing the powers of the wind, and invented the windmill. The narrow strip of lowlands around the Caspian Sea is of an entirely different nature. Its climate is tropical, and a dense subtropical vegetation flourishes. Also the lowlands towards the Persian Gulf and along its coast are extremely trying and unhealthful for foreigners because of the sweltering, oppressive heat. The territory of modern Iran comprises 628,000 square miles, about the size of Texas, Arkansas, and New Mexico. It contains a population variously estimated to be between thirteen and fifteen millions. The first estimate is probably more correct, as the population of thirty-five larger towns amounts to only three million. Twenty-five per cent of the population are nomads with their own tribal constitution and their ancient tribal customs. Under the late Riza Shah Pahlevi, great efforts were made to break up these tribes, and settle them in their respective districts in order to bring them under the authority of the central government in Teheran. The encouraging results obtained were largely undone by the effects of World War II. The population of such a vast mountainous territory is, of course, not homogeneous. Besides the true Iranians, who constitute the absolute majority of the population, we find in the north-western province of Iran in Azerbaijan, people mainly of N

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Turkish origin. They are descendants of hordes from Central Asia who invaded Iran during the Seljuk period (nth and i2th centuries). Their language is Turki, a coarser form of the more polished and refined Osmanli Turkish spoken in Istanbul and Ankara. Only the upper classes among them understand Iranian and a great difference is noticeable in mental and physical characteristics between Turkis and Iranis. Azerbaijan probably is the most fertile province of Iran. The capital is Tabriz which in former centuries was one of the main exchange centres of commerce between Europe and Asia. Soon after World War II, claims for autonomy of Azerbaijan were raised, based on the racial differences from the Iranians. Other powerful influences were behind the scenes. The revolt which followed ended in failure. Azerbaijan is again incorporated in the structure of the Iranian state, but with a grant of considerable powers of local administration.4 This same north-western district, especially around Lake Urmia, was the home of large Christian groups, Armenians as well as Nestorians. During World War I the Nestorians cast their lot in on the side of Russia and England, hoping that they would find help and freedom through their Christian brethren. This disastrous decision brought only hardship. They were driven out of their homes by the Kurds and Turks, and had to live the life of unwanted displaced persons, until they were finally permitted to settle in north-eastern Syria, around the river Khabur. In the mountain ranges to the west of Lake Urmia, towards the 'Iraqi and Turkish borders, is the homeland of the Kurds. They speak their own language, which is related to Iranian, but yet distinct, and which only during this century has been put into written form. In appearance they are distinct from the typical Iranians. They are more stocky, with aquiline features and dark eyes with beetling brows, and are fond of a hazardous life and warfare. They pay only lip service to the central government; in reality they recognize only their own tribal chiefs and their own tribal laws. In former times they often descended from their mountain fastnesses to raid and decimate the Christian towns and villages of the Nestorians and Armenians around 194

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Lake Urmia and Lake Van. Their most famous son was Salah al Din al Ajjubi, the Saladin of the West, who defeated the Crusaders and excelled in chivalry and nobility. In the north-eastern province of Iran, in Khorasan, are numerous Turkmenes. In the south-eastern parts of Iran the Baluchis have their home. They form a racial unit with their brothers beyond the border in Indian Baluchistan, which forms today a part of Pakistan. They speak their own language. Arabs are found in the lowlands around the northern part of the Persian Gulf. They make a living by cultivating dates and fishing. Some of the most powerful tribes are the Lurs and the Bakhtiaris. They marry only inside their tribes, and are therefore pure bred. Nominally they are Muslims, yet these free sons of the dasht, as the untilled land is called, obey nobody except their chief. That is the picture of Iran over which the shahs of the different dynasties ruled with more or less success. It was a medieval system: an autocratic emperor with his feudal lords, assisted or hampered by a zealous clergy, the mujtahidin and mullahs of the Shi'a faith. It worked well as long as Europe was ruled by the same system. But with the change in Europe during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Iran was soon outpaced and became the prey of the stronger European powers, until it was parcelled out into spheres of interest between Russia in the north and Britain in the south-east. RIZA SHAH This situation, however, underwent a radical change when Riza Khan, later Riza Shah Pahlevi, an officer of the Cossack guard, seized power in 1921. With a strong hand, he began to set the house in order and did everything possible not only to free the country from the foreign political and financial influence, but also from the reactionary influence of the powerful, fanatical, and superstitious clergy. The influence of the Shari'a law was gradually abolished, and therewith the power taken from the hands of the mullahs. The veil was discarded and women partially emancipated. When the leading mujtahid of the 195

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mosque of Qum publicly derided the queen, who had advertently or inadvertently unveiled her face during the sermon, consequently causing a demonstration against the queen, the shah proceeded immediately to Qum with troops, entered the mosque without removing his boots and administered a severe flogging to the mujtahid with his own hands.5 The religious holidays were drastically reduced, and the Muharram procession with its accompanying religious frenzy was forbidden. Like Kamal Ata Turk in Turkey, Riza Shah endeavoured to make the Iranians Iran-conscious, and no effort was spared to link them again to their glorious pre-Islamic past, and to make them forget if possible, the long predominance of Arab influence. The same process as in Turkey went into operation in Iran. The language has been purged of its Arabic elements, and old Iranian words revived. The ethics of Zoroaster are restudied and praised, and to Iranian poets, old and new, a wide publicity is given. Many reforms were inaugurated which were detrimental to Islam. A secular-minded nationalism was created, in which religion has to play a second fiddle. The result of this trend, of course, is that many, especially among the educated classes, are led away from all religion towards modern scepticism. But beside the evil consequences which such a falling away from all religion brings forth, it has on the other hand given rise to a tolerance in religious matters, a tolerance never experienced in former times, so that a convert from Islam, apart from petty annoyances, is hardly ever threatened with death, as was the case in the past. On the other hand, in this effort to create an Iran-consciousness, the state has decreed the closing of all foreign and sectarian schools, and has put all education under its direct control. Although it was by no means particularly aimed at them, it was a hard blow to missions, because most mission work was done along educational lines. But it might be a blessing in disguise, as missionary energies and funds will thereby become free to be used for the main objective of missions and the only reason for their existence: namely, the proclamation of truth revealed in Christ Jesus. Missions have done a most difficult spadework in education in Iran, and have nobly executed it, but this phase 196

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of their work seems to have come to an end definitely. The government has taken over and has larger means at its disposal than ever could be gathered by private initiative. Let us hope that the high ideals of Christian influence will be taken over at least partially by the new agency. F O R E I G N MISSIONS IN I R A N

Foreign missions were represented in Iran by the Lazarites who came to Iran in 1625. Their work and that of other Catholic orders is mostly confined to the ancient Christian communities and to the foreigner residing in Iran. Christian charity, of course, is extended to all, and that silent witness is often more forceful than the best sermon.6 Protestant missions in an organized form came to Iran in 1833, when the Basel Mission opened a station in Tabriz. They soon found out, however, that there was little opportunity to work among Muslims, and they left after a few years.7 But before organized work began, one of the greatest modern missionaries, the pioneer of work among Muslims in modern times, spent some time in Iran. He was Henry Martyn, whose heart was aflame to bring the message to his Muslim brethren. He was a chaplain, employed by the East India Company, and spent a number of years in India. In 1811 he went to Iran and lived for ten months in Shiraz, where he completed and revised his translation of the New Testament and the Psalms into Iranian. During his stay in Shiraz he had daily talks and discussions with the leading Muslims. But he came to the conclusion that it is of no avail to convince Muslims by argument, and he cried out in despair: 'I know not what to do but to pray for them.'8 After the completion of his translation, a copy was presented to the shah, and then Martyn took the overland route to Constantinople. Before he could reach that city, however, his already weakened health failed, and he died. The American Mission, later taken over by the American Presbyterian Board, started work in 1834 among the Nestorians around Lake Urmia. After a survey of the situation, public preaching to Muslims was not recommended. Later a station in Hamadan was opened, and medical work begun at Tabriz 197

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and Teheran.9 Shortly before World War I, Meshed, one of the most fanatical towns of Islam, was entered, and medical work established. Today there exists a church in Meshed, the members of which are all converts from Islam. Besides the American Mission, the Church Missionary Society of England (C.M.S.) is working in Iran. Their stations are in Isfahan, Shiraz, Yezd, and Kerman. The work started in Isfahan (1869 and I ^75)- In each of these places, hospitals and dispensaries were established, besides the schoolwork for boys and girls. Their main object was to reach the Muslim population. The results were at first very sparse, but later became more abundant. In 1911 the G.M.S. could report that they had 100 converts from Islam.10 In the beginning these converts were mostly around the mission centres and enjoyed their protection, so that the reproach could be levelled against them that they were rice Christians. In recent times, however, churches have sprung up independently from the mission, as for instance in the village of Qalat near Shiraz, where there exists today a church entirely of Iranian-Muslim descent.11 The work of the Protestant missions was considered advanced enough that in 1933 the first synod of the diocese of Iran as an independent see could be held. There is now Iranian leadership in the councils of the church as well as in the evangelistic work, a factor of utmost importance, as it will become increasingly more difficult for foreigners to live in those countries and have a direct hand in the management of the affairs of the church. The work has- to be done by nationals. Christ on the Iranian road must be carried by Iranians clad in Iranian garb. Iran today, more than any other Muslim land, presents an open door. There is greater tolerance at present towards religion than in any other Muhammadan country, and the tenets of the Shi'a make it easier for the inquirer to understand, to a certain degree, the essential points of Christianity. Moreover, Iran is in a most strategic position from which the light of Christianity can spread further. To the east lies Afghanistan, a country which has never consented to let a Christian messenger enter. To the west lies Turkey, the doors of which likewise seem closed; to the north lies Soviet Russia, with all her Central Asian peoples,

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who never have had the opportunity of hearing the message of love in Christ. And here in Iran an open door exists, and tolerance such as has seldom been experienced in her history. There is an awakening and longing among the people for something better than what they have had before. Perhaps from Iran will go forth the messengers again as the Nestorians of old to preach the message of salvation to the countries of Central Asia. Let us not pass by this open door. 1 See H. Stuart Jones, *Mithraism,' in Hastings Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, Vol. 8, pp. 752-759; also F. Cumont, The Mysteries of Mithra; English translation by T. J. McGormack, 1903. 2 The birth of Zarathustra is variously given from 1000 B.C. to 600 B.C. 3 Many of them wrote in Arabic, and are therefore counted as belonging to the Arabic sphere. 4 E. Groseclose, Introduction to Iran, p. 240. 5 Ibid., p. 131. 6 B. Arens, Handbuch der Katholischen Missionen, pp. 36, 37. 7 J. T. Addison, The Christian Approach to the Moslem, p. 180. 8 Ibid., pp. 178, 179. 9 Ibid., p. 180 ff. 10 Ibid., p. 182. 11 J. N. Hoare, Something New in Iran, pp. 40, 41.

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I

N BUILDING a bridge over a deep gorge or a wide, swiftflowing river, the engineers have to do a vast amount of planning before the first digging can be done. They have to survey the terrain with the greatest care in order to be able to select the most suitable spot where the future structure is to be erected. They have to plumb the depth of the river, measure the swiftness and volume of the current, and observe the high and low watermarks, before they decide what kind of bridge they are going to build. They have to make most exact calculations in order to choose the kind of material best suited to the amount of stress and strain which the structure must bear. Only after having laid these plans most carefully and after having estimated the costs closely is work begun on the great enterprise. In the preceding chapters of this study our work was mostly that of surveying the territory, of measuring the width of the gulf which separates Islam from Christianity, of plumbing the currents and crosscurrents which have to be reckoned with. Everyone who has had the patience to follow these chapters will realize that the shores along this gulf run parallel for long distances, that at some points they approach each other rather closely, but at others they draw far apart. Certainly, he will have recognized that the other shore is not just a barren desert, but a country full of life, with its own forms and patterns—that Islam is a way of life just as Christianity has developed its own distinct culture. But he will also have discovered on the long march up and down the stream that there is no bridge anywhere between the two banks. On the contrary the relationship between Christianity and Islam during the past was mostly overshadowed by political considerations. This resulted in a state of permanent tension, with frequent outbreaks of bitter hostilities and a deep200

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seated fear and suspicion toward the sincerity of the motives of each other. He may have noticed with dismay that the bestmeant Christian endeavours during the past hundred years have not accomplished much in this respect. On the other hand, he may point out that Western civilization and the modern application of science with all its material benefits has finally bridged the gulf. However, that latter aspect is rather deceptive; it is only seemingly true, whereas the inner life of the two peoples still runs far apart, each in its own course. Where Christians and Muslims have met is on neutral ground— a few highly educated persons from both camps on a scientific level. It would therefore be more appropriate to point to the mystics of both groups who really do stand on common ground in their adoration of a highest deity. But why, many will ask, is it necessary to build a bridge to Islam? Is it not just as well that the two religions and systems of thought run parallel without mixing and intermingling, especially as there does not exist on the side of official Islam the least inclination to lay the foundation for such a bridge on their side of the gulf? This question has often been asked, and rightly so. It can only be answered by another question: Why did God send Christ to bridge the gulf between heaven and earth, between divinity and humanity? The people of this world did not ask for it, and when Christ came He was not accepted even by those who should have been prepared for His coming. God's love constrained Him to do so, and the same love constrains Christians to do likewise. God himself built the bridge to humanity. Should we fail to build the bridge to our fellow men? God knew that when His love would become fully revealed in Christ, this very love would draw men to Him. He had to condescend to make our salvation and partaking of the divine life possible. Or, as Paul has expressed it so eloquently, Christ 'thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.' Christ spanned the gulf between divinity and 201

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humanity in Himself, that we might have access to the Father, no longer to remain aliens and foreigners to the household of God, but to be children and heirs. The spirit that was in Christ should be in us also, is the admonition of Paul. That is the answer. And thank God there will always be men and women who will attempt to build that bridge to Islam and who will not rest until they have succeeded. And this word of Paul's about Christ gives the directive concerning the conditions under which this work should be undertaken, and what attitudes should inspire the bridge-builders. Just as Christ Himself became the bridge between God and man and the channel through which the divine blessings flow, in like manner we have to become bridges to our fellow men—here to the Muslims—and channels through which the life-giving waters flow. That alone should be our objective and that alone justifies our going to these foreign lands as missionaries. Are these the reasons why we go to the lands of the Muslims? Why do we do mission work, as we call it nowadays? Are we clear in our objectives? Mission work has taken on so many aspects, partly through our western fondness for organization, that only too easily our objectives become blurred. It is of utmost importance that we ask ourselves this question again, and again that we keep our objective clear. Why do we go? Do we go to the Muslims because we long deep in our hearts that they may share with us the abundant life in God which we have experienced in Christ Jesus? Do we long to make them acquainted with Christ, the Healer of the soul, who alone can free man from the bondage of fear and from the fetters of sin and guilt? Does the love of Christ constrain us to do so? Where do our objectives lie? Do they lie on a different level? Do they lie more on a cultural level, or a modern scientific level? Do we go to clean up these people somewhat, to give them the benefits of carbolic acid and make them microbe-conscious? And are we highly pleased if they start to use a toothbrush and adopt some of our hygienic requirements? Let us not forget that they have survived the microbes for thousands of years, and were never haunted by the fear of microbic warfare which now lurks in the back of our minds. Or do we go to put them 202

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on their feet socially by educational methods? Do we go to give them some uplift in their agricultural or other economic problems? What is our aim? Are we messengers for Christ, or messengers for a Christianity as we understand it—a Christianity clothed in the garb of western civilization? Perhaps you will say, Do not the preaching of Christ and educational as well as medical work go hand in hand? Are not teaching, healing, and helping essential to the Christian faith? Are not these practical virtues better than any amount of theorizing? Why put the alternatives so crassly? The answer has been given most effectively by Professor Duncan B. Macdonald in an article which appeared in the Moslem World under the title, 'The Essence of Christian Missions.5 The author states, after having put the question in similar lines: 'The answer, in all gentleness and charity, must be that this objection rests simply on confused thinking and is, also, a misreading of the facts in the case. It may easily be that our Western world is not theologically minded, that its religion is not theocentric—which is a pity—but the whole Eastern, non-Christian world is theologically minded, and when our missionaries go to them with a non-theological temper of mind, they are simply unintelligible. The East is quite certain that these men know nothing of Religion, that the Divine Spirit has never spoken to them. They may bring in their hands many very useful things for our present life, here and now; they may be teachers, physicians, and helpers in many ways. But if they do not come to proclaim a definite theological teaching which produces a life-transforming faith they are a puzzle to the Oriental. Why do they come? What is their motive? The whole East understands a theological motive; but when that is obscured the East is only too ready to impute other and discreditable motives.'1 These words are only too true, as the author can testify from personal experience. Most of our philanthropic work is not understood. Often it is considered to be a bait for catching converts and is resented. Or as many simple souls put it: Why not take advantage of the generosity of the foreigner, which he displays so lavishly, and give him the opportunity to perform 203

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some good works? These will surely stand him in good stead in the day of reckoning when hope is against him. These lines are not written with the intention of depreciating educational or medical work, nor do they mean that we should stop all of this type of work. Not at all. The writer simply wishes to point out that we should never lose sight of the main issue of our calling, namely, to be witnesses for Christ; and that we should never allow ourselves to be sidetracked by the busy routine work which is involved in the upkeep of such institutions. Furthermore, as has been pointed out in the separate studies on the different countries of the Near East, the educational as well as the medical lines of mission work face increasing difficulties because the respective governments of these countries are taking education and medical welfare work into their own hands, and have much larger means at their disposal than missions ever can hope for. It would be unwise, therefore, to embark into big ventures without very careful counsel. On the other hand, this development brings home the fact that spiritual truth must be proclaimed by spiritual means; not by human strength and human achievements can this be brought about, but by the Spirit of the everlasting God. Before considering some special points necessary in the work with Muslims, some general remarks about the attitudes and qualifications these bridge builders should possess or at least aim for, will not be out of place. Fishermen must love fish. You must love people. You want to win hearts, but hearts can only be won by heartfelt love and sympathy. Be natural in your dealings. Do not try to impress others regarding your own importance. The Arab, and the Oriental in general, has a sharp mind to detect the genuine from the false. Never consider yourself superior to them because your skin is a shade whiter than theirs. Never allow a feeling of superiority to lead you into a back-slapping attitude. This is not at all appreciated. Remember, you did not choose your mother or the country in which you first saw the light of day. Be honest and frank, as a man to man should be, and soon you will not see the difference in colour or habit, but only the other man whose innermost being 204

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longs for honesty and frankness. Never consider your habits superior to theirs and commit the tactless offence of comparing their ways with your accustomed ways in a depreciating manner. The Easterner likes to invite you to eat with him. It means more than to provide a meal for you; it is a gesture of friendship. Eat heartily of that which is set before you. You will cause great joy and establish a friendship never forgotten. If you have a weak stomach, or if you are over-sensitive about what you eat, then it will be better for you to choose another country for your endeavours. Principles of healthful living are very important, but to avoid offence and win the friendship of those we have come to bring in contact with Christ is more important than some slight digression from our usual habits of eating. Certainly health reform faddists are unsuited for pioneer mission work. Never consider Western ways essential to a Christian life. Remember that Christ and His apostles were Easterners. Those who would have greater right to object are the Easterners when they observe our Western ways. Be courteous and hospitable, two virtues which are inborn in every Easterner, even if he does not pretend to be religious. If you lack in those, you have little chance to impress them with your message. Tact includes the ability to speak respectfully of their religion and religious institutions. Speaking of Muhammad as the false prophet would be just as helpful as if a Muslim coming to this country in order to win Christians would speak of Christ as the son of a harlot. You have conceded nothing when you call Muhammad the 'Prophet of Islam.' If you call him 'a prophet,' that would lead to misunderstandings. Do not be hasty! Haste is not a manifestation of energy, but a sign of confusion and nervous tension. 'Haste is from the devil,' says an Arabic proverb. Therefore, do not associate yourself with this bedfellow in the minds of the people you have come to work for. It might ruin your usefulness for quite a long time to come. Do not think when some wheels are turning that you have accomplished a great deal in their hearts. A steadfastness in adversity, a loyal stand at their side in their sorrows, big or small, will give you a place in their hearts. To have a 205

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place in their hearts is the greatest achievement towards which you should aim, because, remember, JWH are the bridge over which Christ will walk to them and they to Him. Christianity in its highest sense is never propagated by methods but only by Christian hearts through which pulsates fully the stream of love coming from that greatest of hearts which ever beat for human beings, the heart of Jesus. In order to be able to enter fully into the lives of your friends, to share their joys and their sorrows, you must know their language. If you do not know their language you will forever remain an outsider, and your working capacity and outlook for a successful life are at least 50 per cent reduced. Imagine a Muslim coming from Cairo or Baghdad trying to convert people to Islam in New York or any other great centre, preaching only in Arabic, understanding only a few sentences of English, relying on translators whose qualities he is unable to check. What measure of success would you grant to such a person? Therefore, language study is absolutely essential, and your aim should be no less than mastery of the language. Only if you are able to talk to the people on all subjects concerning their lives, only if you are able to read their books and to understand their way of thinking, only if you can join in their jokes and laugh heartily with them, have you become one of them, and one who will be able to exercise a permanent influence upon them. Without knowing their language you have little more than a curiosity value. Until recent times missionaries in Muslim lands worked under one great handicap. They belonged in most cases to a nation which was dominant politically in the country in which they worked. Their message, therefore, was quite naturally linked with all the acts of aggression and oppression of that hated foreign power, and often was even considered part and parcel of that domination. It is evident that the true spiritual values of Christ's message were thereby blurred or not seen at all. On the other hand, the missionary had that pleasant feeling of security, that in the time of trouble the strong arm of his government would always be available to help and to protect him. Some missionaries even played up that point. 206

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Recently, however, most of these countries have become independent. Foreign governments have nothing to say any more in their domestic affairs. The missionary cannot call for protection by his home government at any moment. Such protection is no more available. He stands on his own, more or less, among the people he has come to serve. That might at times be quite uncomfortable, but it has made him and his message a thousand times stronger than before. It dissociates him from all Western political influence. The accusation that he is an agent of a foreign power cannot be levelled against him any longer. He is not there because his government is there, or because his government looks favourably upon his being there. He is not there to protect some vested interests, but he stands at his post because he came to proclaim Christ. For Christ's sake he lives among these people. Christ is his protection, and for Christ's sake he is willing to die if need be. If missionaries accept this clear attitude, and are willing to work under such conditions, then their message has a chance to be heard on its own merits, and Christ has a chance to be seen in His own beauty and holiness, not dressed up with Western paraphernalia. Therefore, unpleasant as the political development in the East may appear at first sight, in reality it is a blessing in disguise, and offers greater prospects for success than ever before. It might happen that some countries will close their doors completely to all foreigners. That would be regrettable. Yet it does not matter by whom Christ is proclaimed, whether by foreigners or nationals of the country. The witness of the latter will be more valuable and eventually the work will be done by them. These national workers often become more effective by the withdrawal of the foreign political influence, because the horrible accusation that they are fifth columnists, tools in the hand of a foreign power, traitors to their own country, cannot be hurled against them any more. If they now proclaim the message of Christ, then they witness for Christ and for Him alone. The foregoing remarks may be applicable to missionaries in general. However, the missionary to Muslim countries should 207

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possess some other qualities in addition to the foregoing. Everyone who has followed these chapters will have recognized that the Near East is full of religious ideas and speculative systems, and has ever been. A missionary going to these countries should have the best possible mental equipment, and should be well trained in religious and philosophical thinking. First of all he must do all his work in a difficult language. Then, too, he should be capable of understanding these systems, and be able to reason soundly and logically without bias. However, he should never make reasoning and arguing his business. The more practical type of man finds himself somewhat out of place. His ability to do all sorts of things, which would be highly appreciated in Central Africa or some other field, is not so much needed in the Near East, where workmen for nearly all purposes can be found. In laying all due stress upon the good intellectual qualities of the missionary candidate, it should never be overlooked that the best intellect is of no avail when the heart is not full of the love of Christ. Both should be found together. The work for Muslims requires full attention and concentration. It is therefore advisable to let him specialize in this field, and not have him do work for Christians and Muslims at the same time. Not only is an entirely different approach needed to reach Muslims, but even a different vocabulary. For example, in speaking to a Christian audience, the term, Christ the Son of God, is perfectly understood. To Muslim ears it is a blasphemy. The same holds true for many other fundamental terms which we Christians use as a matter of course. For that same reason it is impracticable to translate Christian literature of the West even of the best quality. It has to be rewritten to make it suitable for the understanding of the Muslim. That does not mean that truth should be watered down or even hidden. It means only that it should presented in such a way that it does not repel the reader from the very outset. Only a man who is well acquainted with Islamic thought and deeply versed in its literature is able to produce such books. Furthermore, the two communities, the Muslim and Christian, do not mix much in a social way, except perhaps on the higher social stratum, or among some modernly educated young 208

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people. They live in watertight compartments; in most places they live in different quarters of the town. Most Christians have not the faintest inkling of Muslim literature and religious thought. The Muslim is likewise ignorant of Christianity. He knows just a few points by which he can deride and ridicule Christianity, and the Christian retaliates in the same coin. Therefore, a man who finds ready entrance in the one community will have difficulty in finding acceptance at the same time in the other. All these points speak strongly in favour of a separation of the work for Muslims from that for other communities. In bringing Christ to Muslims we face a difficulty which is to be met nowhere else. That is that Muslims assume that they know Christ and that their knowledge of Him is more accurate than ours. We are, therefore, not introducing a new figure to their thinking in bringing Christ to them, but on the contrary, we are trying to impose our wrong ideas about Christ upon their better understanding of Him. To us, Christ is the Incarnate Word of God. He is the Redeemer, the only Mediator between God and man. To Muslims, Christ is highly exalted. He is a sign to the worlds, a spirit from God, the messenger of God, illustrious in this world and in the next, but otherwise he is considered to be on the same level as any other prophet. By no other religion is Christ's position challenged in such a definite manner as it is in Islam. Therefore, everything depends upon our right representation of Christ. If we are able to represent Christ in His full spiritual power, every other problem will be solved. And here lies the crux of the matter. We can only represent Christ in such a manner if we have become partakers of His spiritual power. But often we ourselves have only touched the fringe of His garment, and are not aware of the spiritual resources which are in store for everyone who maintains an uninterrupted communion with Christ. In our own experience we often mistake the belief in a set of doctrines for faith, an adherence to some formulae for the life-changing power of the Spirit of God. Islam, however, arouses us from our lethargy, because Islam not only challenges the Christian o

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creed, but it challenges the spiritual power revealed in Christ Jesus. The Muslim is always ready to bring up the subject of the Trinity, the Sonship of Christ, and the death of God. If the Son of God died, then God, they say, died. The Christian church for many centuries has defended her creed against these attacks. In the course of this very noble undertaking, she has tried to find similes, metaphors, and symbols in order to prove convincingly the truth of such doctrines as the Trinity, the two natures of Christ, redemption, and so forth. But in spite of all this endeavour she has failed. No amount of discussion and argument over these points will ever convince anybody, because the truth of these doctrines does not lie on the intellectual level where it can be reached by the power of reasoning. It lies on the spiritual level to which we find entrance by listening quietly to the Spirit of God, who is willing to reveal Himself to everybody, Muslim and Christian alike. Let us remember that none among ourselves has become a true, living Christian because he suddenly understood and was able to explain the Trinity, but he has become such because of a personal experience with Christ. At the same time he understood inwardly on a higher level that the Trinity must be true, although he will forever be unable to explain it satisfactorily. But how many simpler things become distorted when we try to explain them in words or draw them on paper. For instance, we are unable to project a spherical body on a level surface. Therefore, all global maps give us a somewhat distorted picture of the earth. The peculiar problem in the work with Muslims arises because Islam has a great similarity with Christianity in its outward form. Muslims believe in one God, and so do Christians. Muslims have a book, the Qur'an; Christians have a book, the Bible. Muslims have a founder, the messenger of God, Muhammad; Christians also have a founder, Christ, the Son of God. Muslims have a creed; Christians have a creed. Muslims have a number of religious duties to perform; Christians seem to do likewise. Comparing the two systems according to their outward struc210

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ture and appearance, there does not seem to be much difference between the two, and comparing form with form, Islam would probably take the first prize. Muslims contend that Islam is simpler, easier to comprehend, and more reasonable, that its requirements can be met by everyone, whereas the sayings of Christ, although pointing to high ideals, are difficult to attain and nobody or only a chosen few are able to live up to them. Therefore, they affirm, Islam is more practical for this world. And yet this conclusion is subject to the reservation that a religion which is fully comprehensible by reason, and its requirements fully adapted to human possibilities is not a religion at all; it is just an ethical system. The purpose of religion is to raise man from his human level to a higher level, to the divine level. It is to awaken in him, besides the faculty of reason which he has so well developed, a greater and higher faculty, the faculty of faith, which has its own laws. Religion must set before man a goal which he is unable to attain by his own strength in order to bring him into contact with the divine power. In doing so, the necessary tension is created to bring about the full development of man's personality, spiritually and mentally. This aspect of true religion is most beautifully expressed by the ageing Apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians: 'Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.'2 If any religion lacks this fundamental element, its followers will soon settle down to a self-satisfied complacency, adhering to a rigid formalism. Islam by its own admission lacks this element of spiritual tension; it does not even claim to have such aspirations. It is therefore perfectly logical that Muslims consider the Christian teaching in the same formalistic, mechanical way as they consider their own. The Bible is a mechanized, word-for211

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word revelation like the Qur'an. Christ, the Son of God, can only be such in a physical way, a repulsive thought indeed. The same holds true for all the other points. Abstaining from alcohol or certain foods will surely be praised by Muslims, but the motive for so doing would be misunderstood. We do it, of course, they assume, to gain favour or merit with God. To present to Muslims a certain set of forms in order to replace their own set means no gain at all. Even if they should accept this new set, we have achieved nothing so long as they do not understand that Christianity is not a form, but spiritual life. To understand the fundamental difference in the conception of inspiration of the two books, the Qur'an and the Bible, is of utmost value. In this connection one other aspect of the Bible deserves special mention here. This is totally absent in the Qur'an, and that is the 'Word of Prophecy.' Unfortunately Christians in general have failed to heed it and have practically forgotten to use that mighty weapon of their spiritual armour. The Apostle Peter says: 'We have also a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts: knowing this first, that no prophecy of the Scripture is of any private interpretation. For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.'3 By jthe prophetic word, God has thrown rays of light upon earth's dark pathway. He has built lighthouses beforehand that man may recognize the times in which he lives. The great prophecies of Isiah concerning the Messiah, the prophecies of Daniel which span human history and reach unto the time of the end, and the prophetic words of Jesus Himself are the most eloquent witnesses of the manifestation of God's Spirit through all the ages, and one of the most convincing elements even to the sceptic that God does not leave Himself unrevealed. Muhammad brought laws, often going into great detail; Christ laid down principles upon which true life is based and can grow. He led us from the adherence to law to the realm of faith and its righteousness, from the confession of a creed to the 212

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self-sacrificing service of love, from a hope to the privilege of sonship of God. Islam is proud of its brotherhood and has a right to be proud of it. But this brotherhood is confined to its own members and based upon a hereditary selection. It considers all outsiders to be in the 'House of War/ certain groups of which even should be annihilated. Christ, on the other hand, spoke of the general human brotherhood, and in a special sense of those who are reborn by the Spirit of God. The acceptance into this spiritual brotherhood does not rest on hereditary merits, but on the willing reception of the Spirit of God. Islam requires a strict ritual in worship which only too easily develops into a rigid form bare of all spiritual significance. Christ laid down no special rule or form for worship, but requested that worship should be in spirit and in truth. Islam claims finality; that means that no higher thought about God and our relationship to Him can be possible than what has been revealed in the Qur'an. Now, however, it is evident that more advanced thoughts on this God-man relationship have been revealed and can be conceived. Thoughts and revelations raise this relationship from the level of man's abject submission to God to that of a spiritual intercourse with God, from that of blind obedience to that of an intelligent acceptance of God's purposes. This opens up the whole realm of the Spirit, a sphere in which orthodox Islam has nothing to offer. Therewith its claim of finality is invalid. Is there still need for us to go to the Muslim world? Have we something to offer? Should we offer it, even if we are not welcomed? Friends, when we have drunk from the stream of life, when we have come to the fountainhead of life—to Christ Jesus—and He has filled us with His Spirit, then streams of living water flow forth from us. Then in accord with Paul the apostle we exclaim: 'I am a debtor to the Arab and the Turk, to the Iranian and the Afghani, to the Christian in ignorance, and to the Muslim alike.' As long as we Christians set form against form, our contribution will be very meagre, but the moment we are able to bring the full power of Christ's spiritual message to the Muslims, this 213

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power will perform its work upon their hearts. Spiritual power cannot be resisted forever. Spiritual power leaves its influence even if the results are not immediately apparent. Spiritual power is never lost; it is a seed which will blossom and bloom at its time. To pray for this power is our greatest need. Islam is the greatest challenge to the Christian church, but perhaps also her best handmaid in making her realize the one thing she needs most, spiritual power. 1 8 8

The Moslem World, Vol. XXXIV, p. 7, Jan., 1944. Philippians 3: 12-14. 2 Peter i: 19-21.

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Abu Bakr 'Urnar 'Uthman 'All

632 634 644 656-661

2. Umayyad Caliphs Damascus Mu'awiya I Yazid I Mu'awiya II Marwan I 'Abd al Malik Walid Sulayman 'Umar II Yazid II Hisham Walid II Yazid III Ibrahim Marwan II

661-750 661 680 683 683 684 705 714 717 719 723 742 743 743 744-75°

3. 'Abbdsid Caliphs Baghdad Al Saffah Al Mansur Al Mahdi Al Had! Harun al Rashid Al Amm Al Ma'mun Al Mu'tasim Al Wathiq Al Mutawakkil Al Muntasir (Followed by a long list of mostly unimportant rulers) Al Musta'sim 215

750-1258 750 754 775 785 786 809 813 833 842 847 861 1242-1258

APPENDIX

A.H. 138-422

448-541

524-667 629-897

4. Umayyads of Spain Cordova then followed by minor dynasties, among them the Almoravides (Al Murdbits) (Morocco, part of Algeria, Spain) and the Almohades (Al Muwahhids) (All North Africa and part of Spain) The Nasrids (Granada) (1492, expulsion of the Arabs from Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile)

A.D.

756-1031

1056-1147

II30-I269 1232-1492

334 34i 365 386 411 427 487 495 524 544 549 555-567

5. Fdtimid Caliphs in Egypt Cairo 'Ubayd Allah al Mahdi Muhammad al Qa'im Al Mansur, Isma'il Al Mu*izz Al'AzIz Al Hakim bi amr illah AlZahir Al Mustanir Al Musta'li Al Amir Abu 'Al! AlHafiz AlZafir Al Fa'iz 'Abd-Allah al 'Adld

"49 "54 1160-1171

564-650 564-589

6. The Ayyubids The most important was: Salah al Din (Saladin)

1169-1252 1169-1193

297-567 297 322

650-922 648-792 784-922 429-700

7. Mamluk Sultans in Egypt a. Bahri Mamluks b. Burji Mamluks 8. The Seljuks (They are Turkomans from the steppes of Central Asia, and appeared at a time when the Empire of the Caliphate was dying. They accepted Islam and reunited Muhammadan Asia, until they split among them?elves. Their greatest names are: 2l6

909-II7I 909

934 945 952 975 996 1020 1035 1094 IIOI

1130

1252-1517 1250-1390 1382-1517 1037-1300

APPENDIX

429

455 465-485

699 726 761 792 805 824 855 886 918 926 974 982 1003 1012

1026 1027 1031 1032 1049 1058 1099 IIO2

1106

1115 1143

1168 1171 1187 1203 1222 1223 1255 1277 1293

Tughril Bek Alp Arslan Malik Shah Later, we have separate dynasties of Seljuks, of Kirman of Syria, 'Iraq, and Asia Minor. Among the latter the tribe of the 'Othmanlis gained the upper hand.)

9. 'Othmardi Sultans of Turkey 'Othman I Orkhan Murad I Bayazid I Muhammad I Murad II Muhammad II Bayazid II Sellm I Sulayman the Magnificent Sellm II Murad III Muhammad III Ahmad I Mustafa I 'Othman II Mustafa I (restored) Murad IV Ibrahim I Muhammad IV Sulayman II Ahmad II Mustafa II Ahmad III Muhmud I 'Othman III Mustafa III 'Abd al Hamid I Selim III Mustafa IV Mahmud II 'Abd al Majid 'Abd al 'Aziz Murad V

217

A.D. 1037 1063 1072-1092

1299 1326 1360 1389 1402 1421 1451 1481 1512 1520 1566 1574 1595 1603 1617 1618 1622 1623 1640 1648 1687 1691 1695 1703 1730 1754 1757 1773 1789 1807 1808 1839 1861 1876

APPENDIX

A.D. 1876 'Abd al Hamid II 1293 Muhammad V 1327 I 1917-1922 Muhammad VI (Wahid al Din) 336'I34I 1922-1923 Prince 'Abd al Majid—elected—deposed 1341-1342 (Turkey became republic under Mustafa Kama! Ata Turk.) A.H.

jo. The Khedives of Egypt A.H. 1220 1264 1264 1270 1280 1300 1309 1332 1333 1336 1341 1355

(Under nominal subordination to the Porte) Muhammad 'All Ibrahim 'Abbas I Sa'id Isma'a (adopted the title Khedive) Tawifiq 'Abbas Hilmi deposed by the British Husayn Kamil declared Sultan of Egypt Prince Fu'ad becomes Sultan of Egypt King of Egypt Fariiq

A.D. 1805 1848 1848 1854 1863 1882 1892 1914 1914 1917 1922 1936

//. Dynasties in Iran 250-316 205-259 254-290 261-389 320-447 470-628 654-750 907-1148 985-1038 1052-1077 1135-1142 1148-1210 1148-1160 1163-1209 "93-1342 1344-1362

'Alids (Tabaristan) Tahirids (Khorasan) Safarids (Persia) Samanids (Transoxania and Persia) Buwayhids (Southern Persia and 'Iraq) Shahs of Khwarizm Il-Khans (Mongols, descendants of Jenghiz Khan) Safarids Abbas I Abbas II Afghans Afshdrids Nadir Shah Zands Qdjars Riza Shah Pahlevi

2l8

864-928 820-872 867-903 874-999 932-1055 1077-1231 1256-1349 1502-1736 1577-1629 1642-1667 1722-1729 1736-1796 1736-1747 1750-1794 I779-I923 1925-1943

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Bein, A. Theodor Herzl. Philadelphia: 1940. Bell, G. L. The Desert and the Sown. New York: 1907. Brown, P. M. Foreigners in Turkey. Princeton: 1914. Burckhardt, J. L. Travels in Syria and the Holy Land. 1822. Bury, G. W. Arabia Infelix, or the Turks in Temen. London: 1915. Cleland, W. The Population Problem in Egypt. Lancaster, Pa.: 1936. Coan, F. G. Yesterdays in Persia and Kurdistan. 1939. Cromer, Earl of. Modem Egypt. 2 vols. New York: 1908. Edib, Halide. Memoirs. New York: 1926. . Turkey Faces West. New Haven: 1930. Ekrem, Selma. Turkey: Old and New. New York: 1947. . Unveiled. New York: 1930. Foster, Henry A. The Making of Modern Iraq. Norman, Okla.: 1935. Glanville, S. R. K. The Legacy of Egypt. Oxford: 1942. Gliick, N. The Other Side of the Jordan. New Haven: 1940. Hourani, A. H. Syria and Lebanon: A Political Essay. New York: 1946. Hessein, Taha. An Egyptian Childhood. New York: 1946. Cairo: 193-? Lane, E. W. An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians. Everyman's Library. Lawrence, T. E. Revolt in the Desert. London: 1927. Lloyd, S. Twin Rivers. Oxford University Press, Indian Branch, 1947. Lowdermilk, W. C. Palestine, Land of Promise. 1944. Luke, H. C. J. Prophets, Priests, and Patriarchs, Sketches of the Sects of Palestine and Syria. London: 1927. Luke, Sir Henry. The Making of Modern Turkey from Byzantium to Angora. London: 1936. Mattern, J. Les miles mortes de Haute Syrie. Beyrouth: 1933. Meulen, D. van der. Aden to the Hadramaut. London: 1947. Miller, W. The Ottoman Empire and its Successors, ifku-igsf. Cambridge: 1936. Morier, J. The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan. New York: 1937. Morris, Jastrow, Jr. £ionism and the Future of Palestine. The Fallacies and Dangers of Political Zionism. New York: 1919. Mosharrafa, M. M. Cultural Survey of Modern Egypt. London: 1947. Nasr-ed-Din. The Khqja. Translated by H. D. Barnham. New York: 1924. Niebuhr, M. Travels Through Arabia and Other Countries in the East. Translated by Robert Heron. Edinburgh: 1792. Philby, J. B. Arabia of the Wahhabis. London: 1928. — . A Pilgrim in Arabia. London: 1946. • . Sheba's Daughters. London: 1937. Rihani, A. Around the Coasts of Arabia. Boston and New York: 1930. Rihbany, A. M. The Syrian Christ. Boston: 1916. Ristelhueber, R. Les traditions francaises au Liban. Paris: 1925. Stark, F, The Southern Gates of Arabia. 1936. Storrs, R. Lawrence of Arabia. London: 1940. Stripling, G, W. F. The Ottoman Turks and the Arabs. 1942. 228

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Sykes, Sir P. A History of Afghanistan. New York: 1942. . A History of Persia. 2 vols. New York: 1922. Thomas, Bertram. Arabia Felix, Across the 'Empty Quarter' of Arabia. New York: 1932. Tobin, C. M. Turkey, Key to the East. 1944. Ward, B. Turkey. 1942. Wilson, Sir A. South West Persia. Oxford: 1941.

229

INDEX Aaron, 60 Abadites, 119 'Abbasids, 88, 105, 127, 170, 190, 191 'Abdallah, father of Muhammed, 19 'Abd-al-Muttalib, 19 Abraha, 104 Abraham, 28, 60, 124 Abu Bakr, 27, 29, 45-46, 61, 81, 82, 86

Abu Hanifa, 74 Abu Hurayra, 52 Abu Talib, 19 Abyssinians, 84, 104, 114 Aden, 113-114, 116 Adventists, 133 Aelius Gallus, no Afghanistan, 87, 128, 187, 192, 198 Afiq, 61 Africa, 83, 92, 166, 167 Agha Khan, 145 Ahl al Kitab (people of the book), 73.75 Ahmad ibn *Isa, 115 Ahriman (Angra Mainju), 188 Ahura Mazda, 188, 189 'A'isha, 27 Alamut, 145 Alcohol, 78, 79 Alexandretta, 138 Alexandria, 166, 169, 172, 173 Algeria, 96, 119 'AH, caliph, 40, 119, 126, 143 Allah, 17, 30, 47, 53, 67, 69, 82 Alms (zakdt, sadaqa), 50, 51 Alphabet, 139 ; Latin, 182-183 Americans, 106 Amida, 76 Amma, mother of Muhammad, 39 Amir al Mu'mimn, 112 'Amman, 164 'Amr ibn al 'As, 74, 170

Ancient of the Mountain, 145 Antichrist, 61 Antioch, 137, 138, 140 Antonius, 169 Apamea, 140 Apostates, 76, 77 'Aqaba, Gulf of, 102 'Arabi Pasha, 173 Arabia, 16, 81, 90, 97, 102-109, in, 114, 118, 119, 120, 122, 124, 136 Arabic language, 46, 86, 91, 124, 128, 150, 153, 167, 183, 190, 206 Arab League, 161 Arabs, 20, 28, 31, 39, 53, 73~76, 80, 81, 94, 110, 113, 115-116, 118, 120, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 137, 138, 145, 161, 162, 167, 181, 189, 190, 196, 204 conquests, 82-85, 190 culture, 87, 88 race, 86 Arab State, 160-161 Aramaean States, 139 Aramaic, or Syriac, 130, 140, 141 Ardahan and Kars, 97 Arianism, 17, 84, 85 Armenians, 71, 84, 128, 147, 152, 184, 185, 194 Catholic, 142 highlands, 193 massacres, 96, 184 Orthodox, 142, 148 Aryan, 127, 187, 188 Ash'ari, Al, 67 Asia Central, 83, 87, 88, 90, 193, 194, I98> T99 Minor, 88, 91, 97 Assassins, 145 Assiut, 176

230

INDEX

Assyrians ancient, 139 modern, 96, 125, 128, 129 Athanasius, 169 Austria, 97 Avicenna, See Ibn Sina Azerbaijan, 193, 194 Azhar, Al, 167, 171

Baalbek, 137, 140 Bab-al-Rayyan, 52 Babylon, Babylonians, 121, 124, 125, 127, 139 Badr, battle of, 30-31, 36 Baghdad, 13, 87, 88, 105, 127, 128, 129, 131, 141, 170, 187 Baha'al Din, 146 Bahai, 162 Bahrayn, 121-123 Bajurl, 77 Bakhtiaris, 195 Balfour Declaration, 160, 161 Balkan Wars, 97 Baluchis, 118, 193, 195 Bani Ghassan, 103 Barhebraeus, Abdul Faraj, 130 Basel, 93, 159, 160, 175 Basra, 82, 130 Batiniya, 144 Batum, 97 Baybars, Sultan, 77, 145 Baydawi, 56-57* 59~6i5 76 Beduins, 16, 19, 81, 103, 123, 164, 167, 191 Beirut, 140, 149-151 Benedict of Nursia, 169 Bessarabia, 95, 96 Bible, 44-62, 115, 175,210,211-212 biblical concept, 188 Society, 185 tithe, 51 translation into Arabic, 80, 150 translation into Iranian, 197 Bibliander, 93 Bid1 a hasana, 41

Birs Nimrud, 13 Biruni, al, 191 Bombay, 189 Presidency, 112 Bosnia and Herzegovina, 97 Budapest, 92 Buddhism, 80 Bukhari, al, 60-61 Bulgaria, Bulgar, 95, 97 Bullinger, 93 Byzantine Empire (Eastern Rome), 72, 75, 82, 83, 84, 91, 170

Cairo, 105, 166, 170-172 Calendar, Islamic, 29, 54 Caliphate, 182 Capitulation Laws, 174 Carlyle, 19 Caucasus, 95, 164, 193 Chalcedon, 147, 148 Chaldaeans (Christians), 128-130, 134, 142 China (Cathay), Chinese, 87, 92, 128 Christ, 34, 41, 80, 108, 134, 192, J 98, 199, 201-203, 204-214 Christian attitude towards women, 32 belief in return of Jesus, 160 conception of sin, 70 influence, 20, 21, 81, 152, 177178, 192 Lent, 51 minorities, 92-96 missionary, 99, 204-207 point of view, 65 religion, 95 Christianity, 15, 53, 71, 80-81, 84, 91, 96, 100, 134, 141, 147, 169, 170, 174, 186, 189, 200, 203, 206, 209 Christians, 39, 73, 74, 76, 78, 80, 83, 85, 86, 88, 94, 147. 157,

231

l62, 201, 208,

209,

accepted Islam, 75, 85

210

INDEX

Christians holy war, 90, 93 in Arabia, 103-105, 107, 108 in Egypt, 168-170, 172, 173, 174-

176

in Iran, 194-197 in 'Iraq, 125, 126, 128-130, in Lebanon, 142, 143 in Palestine, 162, 163 in Syria, 140-143 in Transjordan, 164 in Turkey, 96, 182, 183-185 of John the Baptist, 130 Cinema, influence of, 177-178 Circassians, 164 Clermont, council of, 89 Columbus, 72, 92 Confucianism, 80 Constantinople, 75, 83, 91, 95, *85 Converts, 77, 132 Copts, Coptic Church, 76, 84, 170, 174-176 Cordoba, 87 Crete, 97 Crimea, 95, 97 Cromer, Lord, 174 Crusades, 76, 88-92, 145, 174, Cyprus, 97

Divorce, 32 Druzes, 138, 142, 143, 145-146, 162, 163 Dufar, 118 Dyck, Dr. C. V. A. van, 150

132

184, 147,

Eastern Church, 81, 91 Eastern Rome, See Byzantine Empire Edessa, 128, 140 Egypt, 74, 81, 82, 97, no, 116, 139, 154,161,166-180 Elagabalus, 140 England, See Great Britain Erasmus, 97 Esther, 188 Evil spirits, 169 Europe, 83, 87-88, 90, 91-93, 96, 97, 98, 99, J 72, 182, 187, 195 Europeans, 92, 113, 114, 122, 172

195,

Dahna', 103 Dajjal, al, 61 Damascus, 46, 87, 103, 104, 105, 138, 139, !4i Daniel, 188 Dante, 17 Dar al-Islam (House of Islam), 14, 53, 55, 79, 9, 94 Day of Judgment, 23-25, 60-61 Day of Resurrection, 25-27 Desert, influence of, 16, 17 Devil worship, 131 Dhikr, 51, 54 Dhimmi (ahl al dhimmd), 74-75, 158 Dhu Nawas, 104 Dyophysites, 148, 149

Falldhm, 167 Fard (wdjib), 69 Fasting, 51, 52 Fatalism, 49, 67, 189 Fatimids, 105, 144, 145, 170, 171 Fatra, 21 Faysal, King of'Iraq, 164 Fez or tarbush, 182 Fiqh (science of Islamic law), 74, 77, 79 Firdausi, 189, 190 Fire worship, 188 Food, unclean, 78 France (French), 83, 89, 96, 97, 137, 138, 153, *72 Free will, 67 French, Bishop Valpy, 120 French influence, 153 Fu'ad, King of Egypt, 174

232

INDEX

Gabriel, 21, 40, 44, 56, 57, 60, as the Holy Spirit, 62 Gabrs (Parsees), 189 Gairdner, W. H. Temple, 176 Genghis Khan, 90, 189 George, Bishop of the Arabs, 130 German Empire, 93 Gerra, 121 Ghafari dynasty, 120 Ghazali, al, 191 Gibraltar, 101 Ginza, 130 Gobat, Samuel, 175 God, 16, 53, 69, 70, 80, 98, 107, 201,202 his relationship to Jesus, 59, 148 in Christian thinking, 47-49, 201202, 213 in Druze thinking, 145, 146 in Iranian thinking, 188 in Isma'ili thinking, 144 in Jewish thinking, 47 in Muslim thinking, 47-50, 59, 67,68 in Nusayri thinking, 143 in Yazidi thinking, 131 Gospel (Injil), 73 Great Britain (England), 97, 113, 114, 116, 120, 122, 125, 129, 138, i53> 160, 165, 171, 174, 194. '95 Greece, 84,86, 95, 96, 125, 141, 182, 184 Greek Catholic or Rum-Catholic, 142, 148, 164 Greek fire, 83, 101 Greek Orthodox Church (Rum), 75, 84, 142, 147, 148, 164, 170 Orthodox Christians, 95

Hadith (tradition), 22, 27, 38, 51, 60, 61 around Muhammad, 38, 39 collections, 42

Hadramaut (Hazarmareth), no, 113, 114-117 Hafiz, 191 Hajjaj, Al, 88 Hakim bi amr illah, 145, 170 Haldl, 69 Kama, 137, 139, 149 Hamadan, 129 Hardm, 69 Harrison, Dr. P. W., 120, 121 Harvin al Rashid, 127, 190 Hasa district, 106 Hasan al Banna, 179 Hasan, grandson of the Prophet, 126 Hasan ibn Sabbah, 145 Hashim, Hashimis, 19, 28 Hauran, 137 Hawari, 58 Hell, 24, 66, 144 Heraclius, 149 Herzl, Theodor, 159 Hijra, al, 29 Hildl, Al, 155 Himyar, 104, no, 112 Hinduism, 80 Hindu Kush, 83, 193 Hira, Kingdom of, 104 Hittites, 139 Hocker, Friedrich Wilhelm, 175 Holy Spirit (ruh al qudus), 62 Horns, 137, 149 Hormuz, 121 Hud, prophet, 115 Hulaga Khan, 128 Hume, 97 Husayn, grandson of the prophet, in, 126, 192 Husayn of Hijaz, 106, 126

Ibadis, 119 Iblls, See Satan Ibn Batuta, 119 Ibn Hanbal, 74 Ibn Sa'd, 31, 38 Ibn Sina (Avicenna), 191

233

INDEX

Ibn Su'ud (Ibn Saud), 105-107 Ibn Taymiyya, 146 Igmd', 105 Ignatius of Loyola, 93-94 Ikhwan al Muslimln (Muslim Brotherhood), 179 Imam of al Yaman, no, in of Isma'ms, 144 of mosque, 49-50 of Shi'a, 143 imamate, 192 Imam Yahya, in, 112 Immaculate conception, 55 India (Hind), 87, 92, 100, 102, no, 116, 117, 128, 145, 187, 189 East India Company, 122, 197 Indian Ocean, no, 113, 118 Indians, 113, 114, 122 Ingrams, W. H., 112-113, 116 Iqbal, Indian thinker, 186 Iran, 82-84, 121, 122, 128, 129, I3'> '45> 187-199 Iranians, 83, 86, 120, 122, 125 language, 187, 188, 190, 196 'Iraq, 97, 101, 115, 124-135, 166 'Isa, See Jesus Isaac, 124 Islam, 15, 16, 51, 62, 78, 81, 90-91, 94, 98, 102-105, in, 141, 145, 167, 171, 181, 182, 183,

187, 189, 2OO, 201, 2O9, 214

on alcohol and foods, 78, 79 change of aspect, 38 Christianity, 80-101 culture, 86^88 and Druzes, 146 early spread, 82-85 empire, 91-92 fundamentals, 44-54 Jesus, 55-62 little horn of Daniel, 18 mystics, 40 predestination, 65-68 Qur'an, 46 religious liberty, 71-78 sin, 68-70

Islam sword, 31, 73,83 treatment of apostates, 76-78 women, 31, 32, 33 Isma'il (Ishmael), 50, 124 Isma'il, Khedive of Egypt, 172, 173 Isma'ilis, 142, 144-145, 170 Israel, 124, 139 Istanbul, 184 Italy, 91, 97 Jabal Akhdar, 103, 118 Jabal Druze, 137, 145 Jabal Sinjar, 130, 131 Jacobites, 75, 84, 128, 130, 147 Ja'far al Sadiq, 144 Jalal al Dm al Rumi, 191 Janissaries, 94 Java, 116 Jazira district, 129, 137 Jerusalem, 11-13, 53> 76> 82, 93, 127, 162, 163 kingdom of, 90, 161 Jesuits, 94, 130, 149 Jesus (Isa), 21, 84, 148, 192, 212 in Druze thinking, 146 in Muslim thinking, 55-62 Jews, 73, 75, 78, 103, 113, 124, 129, i57> 158 influence, 21 messianism, 159 in Egypt, 169, 172 in 'Iraq, 126, 127-128 in Madma, 29, 51, 52 in Palestine, 158-162 in Syria, 142 in al Yaman, 110-111 Jidda, 106 Jihad (Holy War), 105 Jim, 41 John of Damascus, 17 Joseph, 60 Justinian II, 140, 149 Ka'ba, 53, 126 Ka'b ibn al Ashraf, 34

234

INDEX

Kairowan, 83 Kamal Ata Turk, 181-183, 196 Karbala, 104, 126 Kasb or iktisdb, 67 Keith-Falconer, 114 Khadija, 12, 19-21 Khalid, 88 Khawarij, 119 Khayzuran, 127 Khorasan, 125, 195 Khyber Pass, 82 Kismet (Fate), 17 Kitab, al Jilwah, 131 Kitchener, Lord, 174 Koelle, Dr., 185 Kufa, 46, 104 Kurds, 125-127, 129, 145, 194 Kutchuk Kainardji, Treaty of, 95 Kuwayt, 106, 123

Lactantius, 71 Ladhaqiyya, al-(latakiya), 143, 144 Land-tax (kharaj), 74 Latin Church, 81 Latins, 142, 148, 164 League of Nations, 125 Lebanon, 96, 97, 136-156, 162, 163, 172 centre of Catholic work, 149 Literary awakening, 154-155, 172 Literature work, 150, 175, 176 Locke, 97 Lull, Raymond, 91 Lurs, 195 Luther, 18, 68, 76, 77, 84, 93

Macdonald, D.V., 203 Madina, 29, 30, 33, 36, 46, 51, 52, 61, 76, 81, 104 forbidden to non-Muslims, 104 Madkhal, al, 77 Mahdi, 61

Makalla, 114, 115 Makka (Mecca), 17, 19, 20, 23, 29? 49> 52-53* 81, 104, 106, 107, 126 forbidden to non-Muslims, 104 newspaper, 106-107 people of, 25, 27-29 Makruh, 69 Malik, law school of, 74 Malik Ta'us, 131 Mamluk Sultans (Beys), 76, 171 Ma'mun, al, 88, 127 Mandseans (Subbis), 126, 130-131 Mandates, 97, 137, 138 Mansur, al, 88 Marco Polo, 92 Mark, St., 169 Maronite College, 149 Maronites, 96, 142, 148, 149 Martyn, Henry, 197 Marwa, al, 53 Marwan II, 119 Maryam (Mary, mother of Jesus), 55-57 Maryland, 168 Matrah, 118 Maulid al nabbl, 40, 41 Medes, 127 Medical Mission, 107, 114, 122, 123, 151, 163, 164, 176, 197-198, 202-204 Medicine under Muslims, 87 under Nestorians, 128 Mediterranean, 83, 97, 98, 136-138 Melanchthon, 18 Melitene, 75 Meshed, 198 Mesopotamia, 81, 82, 84, 101, 104 Messiah, See Jesus Meulen, D. van der, 116 Middle Ages, 72, 75, 78, 98 Millet-system, 183 Minaean kingdom, 128-129 Miracles attributed to Muhammad, 38-39 Qur'an greatest, 39

235

INDEX

Mission work Adventist, 133 American Presbyterian Board, 151, 175, 197 Arabian Mission, 107, 121, 122, 123, 133 Basel Mission, 197 Bibliander, 93 British Syrian Mission, 151 Church Missionary Society, 163, 164, 175, 176, 185, 198 Danish Church Missionary, 114, 116, 151 Egypt General Mission, 176 Ignatius of Loyola, 93-94 in Aden, 114 in Egypt, 174-176, 178-179 in Hadramaut, 116, 117 in Iran, 192, 196-199 in 'Iraq, 132 in Lebanon, 149-151 in 'Oman, 120, 121 in Palestine, 162-163 in Persian Gulf States, 123 in Turkey, 184-185 in al Yaman, 112 modern, 99, 100, 152-153, 202204 Moravian Brethren, 175 Nestorians, 86, 128 Raymond Lull, 91 Roman Catholic Missions, 114, 134, 164, 197 Capuchins, 114, 149 Carmelites, 134, 149 Franciscans, 174 Jesuits, 134, 149 Lazarites, 150, 197 Sisters of the Good Shepherd, 114 Sisters of the Holy Family, 150 Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul, 150 Scotland South Arabian Mission, 114 Syrian Orphanage, 163 United Missions of Mesopotamia, 134

Mitannis, 139 Mithra, 188, 189 Monasticism, 169 Mongols, 86, 128, 145, 189 Monophysites, 84, 130, 148, 149, 170 Monothelites, 149 Moses, 60 Mosque (Masjid) Gaylani, 127 of Qum, 196 influence, 85-86 schools, Kuttab, 85, 153 for women, 120 Mosul, 129, 130, 131, 133 Mount Hira, 20 Mu'awiya, 88 Mubah (jd'iz), 69 Mughira, al, 39 Muhammad, 16, 17, 28, 44, 50, 51, 52, 58, 61, 65, 66, 73, 80-82, 84, 205, 210, 212 antichrist, 18 birthday, 41 Christians and Jews, 20, 21 critics of, 17-19 development of, 33-34 early life, 19 in eyes of followers, 37-42 in Medina, 29, 30, 33, 34 in Makka, 27-29 literacy of, 20 mediator, 40, 42 message, 23-28 miracles, 38, 39 night journey, 22, 60 on state of dead, 26, 27 pre-existence, 39, 40 revelations, 20-23 traditions about, 37-38 women, 31-33 Muhammad 'Abd al Wahhab, 105 Muhammad al Abdarl ibn Hajj, 77 Muhammad 'All Pasha, 171, 172 Muharram processions, 192, 196 Mujtahidy 195 Muqtataf, Al, 155

236

INDEX

Muslim (commentator), 61 Muslims, 28, 37, 41, 44~45> 52> 67~ 68, 74, 83, 85, 87, 88, 97' 100, 101, 104, 116, 128, 132, 138, 15*5 !53> 158* l62 > l63> 170, i74-!75> 177. J78, 182, 197, 198, 201, 204, 207-209, 2IO-2I2

against missions, 179 Musqat (muscat), 118-121 Mustafa Kamal, See Kamal Ata Turk Mutawali, 142, 143, 155 Muthanna, 88 Naaman, 139 Najaf, 126 Najran, 104, 107 Najraniyya, 104 Nationalism, 152, 161, 179, 181, 182, 185 Near East Christian Council, 151 Nebuchadnezzar, 124-125 Nehavend, battle of, 82, 190 Nestorians, 20, 27, 84, 86, 128-130, 142, 147, 194 Newton, 97 Nile Mission Press, 176 Nisibin, 128, 129 Nizam of Hyderabad, 116 North Africa, 81, 82, 83, 91 Nubians, 84 Nufud, 103 Nusayris ('Alawis), 142-144 Oil Companies, 106, 122 'Oman, 103, no, 118-121 Omar Khayyam, 191 Origen, 169 Original sin, 55 Pachomius, 169 Paighambar akhira zamdn, 192 Pakistan, 195

Palestine, 81, 82, 90, 97, in, 128, 137-138, I57~l63 Paradise, 24, 41, 52, 59, 63, 66-67, 144 Parsees, 113, 189 Parthians, 125 Patriarch of Babylon, 129 Paul, Apostle, 48, 103, 201, 202, 211, 213 Pearl diving, 122 Persia, Persians. See Iran, Iranians Persian Gulf, 102, 106, no, 118, 121-123, 193, 195 Peter, the Apostle, 212 Peter the Great, 94 Petrie, Dr. and Mrs., 112, 113 Pfander, G., 185 Philip the Arabian, 140 Philistines, 158 Phoenicians, 139 Pilgrimage (al hajj), 52, 53, 126 Pinsker, Leo, 159 Pirate Coast (Trucial Coast), 122 Poll tax (jizya), 74 Polygamy, 31-33, 182 Pompey, 140 Popes, 129 Clement III, 89 Gregory VII, 89 Gregory, XIII, 149 Urban II, 89, 90 Portuguese, 120, 121, 122, 136 Prayer, 49, 50, 182 Predestination, 65-68 Prophecy, 212 Prophet, idea of, 37 Protestantism, 93, 97, 99, 142, 147, 155, 164, 177 in Egypt, 175-176 in Iran, 197 in Lebanon, 151 in Palestine, 163 in Turkey, 184 Psalms (zabbur), 73 Qadasiyya, battle of, 82

237

INDEX

Qadi, 171 Qalat (near Shinraz), 198 Qat, log Qatar, 122 Qatn, al, 115 Qias, 105 Qibla (direction of prayer), 53 Qum, 196 Qur'an (Koran), 18-22, 37~38> 44> 50, 65, 66, 76, 80, 85, 105, 119, 144, 150, 190,210,212, 213 abrogated verses, 47 commentaries, 45 Holy Spirit in, 62 Jesus in, 55-62 recension of, 44-46 translation of, 35, 93 Quraysh, 19 Rahman, al, 56, 57 Ramadan, 51, 52, 54 Rationalism, 71 Red Sea, 102, 106, 113 Religion, 68, 72 Religious Liberty, 71, 75, 76, 78, 131-1325 l64> 165 Renaissance, 97 Reuchlin, 97 Rhazes, or Razi, 87, 191 Riad, 106 Richard, the Dominican, 18 Riza Shah Pahlevi, 193, 195, 196 Roman Catholic Church, 78, 89, 93, 147, 148-150, I74> J ?6 Roman Empire, 72, 83, 103, no, 140, 189 Romans, 115, 125, 140, 189 Rub'al Khali, 103, 113, 118 Rumania, 95, 97 Russia, 92, 94, 95, 96, 97, 129, 194, i95> 198 Tsars of, 164 Sa'adi, 191 Sabaeans, no

Sabians, 73 Safa, al, 53 Sajjun, 115 Saladin (Salah al Din), 76, 195 Soldi, 49 Salt, al, 164 Samaritans, 162 Samarkand, 87 San* a', 104, 112, 113 Sargon, Assyrian King, no, 121 Sassanids, 82, 125, 190 Satan (Iblis), 55, 63, 78, 130, 131, his fall according to Qur'an, 62,

63

Savonarola, 18 Sayyids, 112, 115, 116 Schneller, L., 163 Schools al Azhar, 171 Catholic, 149-150 Christian, 133, 203, 204 C.M.S., 162, 164 Fu'ad University, 172, 173 Girls School, first, 150 higher learning, 87 in Egypt, 172-173, 175 in Iran, 196-198 in 'Iraq, 132, 133 in Syria and Lebanon, 149-151, 153-154 in Turkey, 184 Mission, 114, 153 of Nestorians, 128 Qur'an, 85 Robert College, 185 St. Joseph University, 149 Syrian Orphanage, 163 Syrian Protestant College, American University, 150151, 184, 185 Secularism, 78 Seleucids, 121, 139, 140 Seljuk period, 194 Serbia, Serbs, 95, 96 Shabak, 120 Shafi'I, al, law school of, 74 Shahdda, 47

238

INDEX

Shah Namah, 189, 190 Shari'a (Muslim canon law), 77, 195 Sharifs of Makka, 164 Shaykh 'Adi, 131 Shakh Hamid of Qatar, 107 Shaykh of Lahaj, 113 Shaykh 'Othman, 112 Sheba, queen of, no Shl'a, 40,42, in, 122, 143, 191, '92, I95? '98 Shibam, 115 Shihr, 115 Shl% 39, 126-127, 142-i44> ^2, 170, 171, 192 Shiraz, 197, 198 Shirk, 69 Shoas, 114 Sicily, 83, 88 Sidra Rabba, 130 Sidra tree, 22 Silver, Dr. Abba HUld, 161 Sin, 68-70 Sind, 82, 83 Singapore, 115 Smith, Eli, 150 Solomon, no Somalis, 113 Spain, 15, 81, 86, 87, 88, 91 Spice Islands, no Spirituality in Christianity, 47, 48 in Islam, 47, 48 Storm, Dr., 107, 118, 121 Suez Canal, 99, 113, 172 Sufi, Sufism, 40, 41, 48, 191 Sulayman, the Magnificent, 94 Sulaymania, 127 Sumatra, 116 Sumerian (s), 121, 124 Sunna, 38, 143, 192 Sunms, 42, 83, 105, 112, 119, 123, 126-127, 142, 143, 162, 171, 192 Sura general, 44, 53-54 of Madina period, 45 of Makkan period, 28, 45

Sura question about first, 22 quoted, 21, 22, 24-26, 30, 31, 34, 47, 48, 51, 56-60, 63, 65, 66, 67, 69, 73, 76, 77, 78 Swahilis, 114 Syria, Syrians, 81, 82, 84, 88, 90, 97, 104, 129, 136-156, 162 Syriac (language), 128, 141, 149 Syrian Catholic Christians, 142, 148 Syrian expedition, 82 Syrian Orthodox Christians, 142, 148 Syrians abroad, 154-155

Tabriz, 194, 197 Ta'if, 28 Talmud, Babylonian, 130 Tama, Bishop of, 174 Tamerlane, 129, 189 Tarim, 115, 116 Tariq, 83, 101 Tartars, 82, 92, 94, 189 Teheran, 193, 198 Tertullian, 71 Thornton, D. M., 176 Thousand and One Nights, The, 115, 190, 191 Tibet, 87 Timothy I, patriarch, 86-87 Tolerance, 73, 75, 76, 120, 177, 196 Torah, 73 Tours and Poitiers, 83 Tradition, see Hadith Transjordan, 97, 104, 138, 163-165 Transmigration (re-incarnation), 144, 146 Transoxania, 83 Trinity, 59, 69, 2IO Tripolitania, 97 Tunis, 97, 144 Turan, 183, 187, Turcomans (Turkmenes), Turkmenistan, 125, 183, 195

239

INDEX

Turkey, 97, in, 125, 127, 129, 138, 152, 164, 171, 174, 181-186, 192, 198 Turks, 18, 71, 88, 90, 94, 96, 97, in, 125, 189, 194 Osmanli Turks, Ottomans, 91-93, 95, 147, 148, 172 Ottoman Empire, 94,95, 137-138 language, 183, 194

'Ubayd Allah ibn Muhammad al Mahdi, 144 Ukraine, 95 'Umar ibn al Kattab, 27, 74, 81, 82, 88, 104 Umayyads, 88, 105, 119, 131, 141 190 Uniate Eastern Churches, 129-130, 148, 174 Urmia, Lake, 194 U.S.A. (American), in, 150, 153, 155, 190 'Utayba, tribe, 122 'Uthman (caliph), 46, 119

Van Ess, Dr., 133 Vasco da Gama, 92 Vedas, 187 Veil, 32-33, 182, 195 Verdi, 172 Vienna, 93

Wafd Party, 179 Wahhabis, 78, 105-106 Walt, 169

Weizmann, Chaim, 160 Wolff, Joseph, 112 Women first girls'school, 150 mosques for, 120 position of, 31-33, 169, 182, 195196 schools, 173 World War I, in, 125, 129, 135, 137, 160, 163, 164, 174, 181, I94? 198 World War II, 100, 163, 179, 186, J 93> J94

Yafa'is, 115 Yaman, al, (Yemen), (Arabia Felix), 102, 103, 104, 109-113 Yarmuk, battle of, 82 Yathrib, 20, 29, 30 Yazidis (Yezidis), 126, 131, 132, 142 Y.M.G.A., 163, 176, 177 Y.M.M.A., 177

Zacharias, 55 Zahran, 106 Zamzam, 126 Zanzibar, 120 Zarathustra (Zoroaster), 189^ 196, 199 Zoroastrians, 73, 74 Zayd ibn 'All, 111 Zayd ibn Thabit, 45-46 Zayd, Muhammad's adopted slave, 34 Zaydites, 111-112, 113 Zinzendorf, von, Count, 175 Zionism, 128, 157-160, 162 Zubayda, 127 Zwemer, Dr. S. M., 112, 120, 121

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ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 3

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY

FRANK DODD

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1938 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1938 Frank Dodd All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

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(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 3) (hbk) (Volume 3) (pbk) (Volume 3) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

AN INTRODUCTION TO

THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY ty

F R A N K DODD

"On ne saurait en quelques pages epuiser un sujet a jamais inepuisable. Le parcourir a grandes enjambees serait deja beaucoup."—CHARLES NOKDMANNttL'au (the first two letters of the name XPI2T02, Christ). In the following year by his command the Christian religion was officially tolerated throughout the Empire. In 325 the Emperor presided at the Council held at Nicea as the result of the difficulties which had arisen with respect to the doctrines held by Arius. When these difficulties came to the knowledge of Constantine, he wrote a very sensible letter in which he showed every desire that the dispute should be quietly dropped. In view, however, of the wide interest already aroused in the controversy, Constantine finally consented to convene a Council, as he doubtless thought that his presence as President would strengthen the loyalty of those who attended. He was at the time still a pagan, and was indeed only baptised shortly before his death. Five years after the Council of Nicea there occurred another event of great importance in the history of Christianity. Constantine transferred the capital of the Empire to Byzantium, for many centuries subsequently to be called Constantinople. It would be reasonable to have supposed that the result of this change would be a decline in the importance of the Latin Church and of its chief Bishop. Reference has already been made to the facts that it was indeed decreed, in consequence of the change, that "the most holy throne" of the Patriarch of Constantinople should have equal precedency with that of the Bishop of Rome, and that this decree was opposed by the Pope and his partisans. It has however more than once happened that events which at first glance appear to be likely to constitute a staggering blow to the papal pretensions have eventually actually given the Popes even greater power. The adherents of the Roman system very naturally attribute this fact to the beneficent overruling of Almighty God. This argument clearly demands thoughtful consideration, though at first glance it reminds us somewhat of the reasoning of the immortal Pangloss, who based his system of philosophy on the assumption that dans ce meilleur des mondes possibles tout est necessairement pour la meilleure Jin. On the other hand the opponents of the Roman system attribute the lack of success of true Christianity very largely

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to the skill and energy with which successive Popes have sought and achieved the aggrandisement of their office rather than the application of the simple precepts of the Founder of their religion. But however this may be, the fact remains that the Popes first acquired prestige on account of the preponderating importance of the city of Rome, and subsequently acquired further prestige when, the government of the city having become greatly enfeebled after the departure of the imperial court, the population tended to look to their Bishop rather than to their civil rulers for leadership. The extent to which the papal claims increased subsequently to 330 may be gathered from the terms of a forgery which it was eventually considered expedient to execute in their support. The forgery in question is called the Donation of Constantine, and purports to be a grant by the Emperor to Pope Sylvester and his successors for ever, not only of spiritual supremacy over the other great patriarchates, but also of temporal sovereignty over Italy. It is remarkable that the forger should have thought it worth while to make the Emperor invest the Pope with spiritual as well as temporal dignities. This document, it is now thought, dates from the eighth century, but there is considerable difference of opinion as to exactly what were the special circumstances which caused the forgery to be executed. Gregory V (Pope 996-999) seems to have been the first Bishop of Rome who is known to have made use of it. Thenceforward it became the chief documentary support of the papal claims to temporal dominion. Dante, in ignorance as to its true nature, reproaches Constantine for having executed it (Inferno xix. 115). Ahi, Constantin, di questo malfu matre Nonla tua conversion, ma quella dote Che da te prese il primo ricco patref

The genuineness of the Donation was first attacked in 1440, and since the end of the eighteenth century no serious attempt has been made to defend its authenticity. In the latter part of the fourth, and the first part of the fifth centuries, two ecclesiastics, Jerome and Augustine, exercised considerable influence over the progress of the Western Church. Eusebius Sophronius Hieronymus, better known to us as ST. JEROME (c. 340-420), was a Dalmatian, a man of immense learning, who became specially valuable to the See of Rome

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on account of his advocacy of the general principle that whenever divergencies arose, the doctrines and customs current at that city ought to prevail. But after having been papal secretary for a short time, Jerome left the West and travelled in Palestine and in Egypt, eventually settling down at Bethlehem, where up to the time of his death he was engaged on his vast literary work, including his translation of the Scriptures, such translation being the basis of the current Vulgate (i.e. edition in vulgar use). The religious terminology of the languages of Western Europe has been very largely influenced by Jerome's work. AURELIUS AUGUSTINUS (354-430) is generally regarded by Roman Catholics as the greatest of the Doctors of the Church, while at the same time he is perhaps the one early Father whose authority is genuinely respected by practically all Protestant writers. While on the one hand it has been asserted that the doctrines of Calvin were those of Augustine carried to their logical conclusion, on the other Augustine's popularity in Roman Catholic Spain is so great that the saying has become proverbial: "No stew (olio) without garlic; no sermon without St. Augustine." It so happens that we possess exceptionally full information as to the Saint's religious development. In his childhood he was impressed by the earnest Christian teaching of his mother, Monica, but as he grew up he became careless about religion. He was subsequently attracted by Manichaeism, a system which may be said to be in a sense a successor of Mithraism. Manes attempted to blend the doctrines of Christianity with Persian Magism, the result being a system of dualism, the universe being regarded as divided into two opposing kingdoms —of light and darkness—with the former kingdom being associated God, virtue and happiness, and with the latter Satan, vice and misery. Augustine was a disciple (auditor) of Manichaeism for nine years, after which he became dissatisfied with dualism, which served, as he very justly thought, to shelve difficulties rather than to solve them. He subsequently fell under the influence of Neo-Platonism, of which school of thought Plotinus is the best known exponent. This truly great writer held that the One Original Being begets what he called the Novs, which is a perfect image of the One, and the archetype of all existing things. The individual human soul is to the Novs in the same relationship as the Novs itself is to the One, and it is the aim

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of the soul to regain union with the Novs. It will be seen therefore that what Plotinus called the Novs is really what Origen and his followers called the Christ. (It may be observed that Plotinus and Origen were pupils of the same master, Ammonius Saccas.) Few subjects of reflection can be more profitable than an enquiry into the differences between Neo-Platonism and Christianity. Wherein lie the weakness of the former and the strength of the latter? Why did Augustine finally abandon the one to become so great an advocate of the other? An answer to these questions is contained in the article on Neo-Platonism, contributed jointly to the Encyclopedia Britannica by Dr. Harnack and Mr. J. M. Mitchell: Why was Neo-Platonism defeated by Christianity? Three essentials of a permanent religious foundation were wanting in Neo-Platonism; they are admirably indicated in Augustine's Confessions (vii. 18-21). First and chiefly, it lacked a religious founder; second, it could not tell how the state of inward peace and blessedness could become permanent; third, it had no means to win those who were not endowed with the speculative faculty. The philosophical discipline which it recommended for the attainment of the highest good was beyond the reach of the masses. . . . Thus it remained a school for 'the wise and prudent.' The above merits our very careful attention. Taking the second item first, we are reminded of the fact that people of such widely different opinions as Plotinus, Mahomet and St. Thereza of Avila all had their experiences of intense religious ecstasy, but in none of the three was the state permanent, nor could it apparently be induced at will; so it is not easy to see why in this respect Christianity necessarily had any advantage over Neo-Platonism. The first and third items seem to be closely allied, that is to say people not endowed with the speculative faculty require to look up to some leader or teacher, either living or historical, as their religious enthusiasm cannot be otherwise aroused. The truly spiritually-minded man cries out "O God, early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee: my flesh longeth for thee" (Ps. Ixiii. i), but those whose religious thought is on a lower level affirm: "We have Abraham for our father," or "We are the sons of the Prophet," or whatever the current phrase may happen to be. We ask ourselves therefore why so spiritually-minded a man

188 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY

as Augustine should need to look up to a personal religious leader. He tells us that he was converted to Christianity at the moment of reading the words of Paul to the Romans (xiii. 13, 14): Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof.

He adds: "I had neither desire nor need to read further." Now if we examine the passage which produced so extraordinary an effect on the life of Augustine, we see that the greater part consists of moral precepts which might quite conceivably have been spoken by Socrates, or written by one of the Hebrew prophets. The only distinctively Christian phrase is Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and it is consequently of special interest to try to determine exactly the meaning of these words. The phrase in question is clearly on a par with such expressions as: As many of you as have been baptised into Christ have put on Christ (Gal. iii. 27). Paul seems to be dealing with purely spiritual experiences. He is not telling his readers to hold certain beliefs as to the nature of Jesus, nor is he asking them to study the earthly life of Jesus with a view to following that great example. He tells them to put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and we are reminded of such phrases as Little children of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you (Gal. iv. 19), and it would appear that in each case he is urging his readers to strive to bring about the union of the individual soul with the Divine Christ Spirit. The situation may possibly be rendered more clear if we study the language of the Third Gospel. We find that the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus (iii. 22), that Jesus being full of the Holy Spirit then returned from Jordan (iv. i) and subsequently returned in the power of the Spirit into Galilee (iv. 14). Now in the light of these passages we may again ask ourselves the meaning of the phrase Put on the Lord Jesus Christ: are we to understand that it should be our aim to attain spiritual communion with the man Jesus who became "full of the Holy Spirit/' or with that same Holy Spirit which inspired him? Herein lies the crucial point. Augustine was attracted by the idea of a personal historical Saviour, and hundreds of millions of Christians have followed his example, and as a result have eventually adopted the dogma that "it is necessary to ever-

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lasting salvation that (they) believe rightly the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ." But the difficulties of Christianity when brought in contact with modern thought lie increasingly in the fact that so many thinking men and women find it hard to believe that a right comprehension of the nature of a historical character can be a vital part of religion. Religion is to many something which would remain unimpaired even if all history were blotted out. Consequently a certain type of evangelical preaching is received in a markedly different manner by the two classes of hearers. The familiar invitation to "Come to Jesus" and to "Accept Jesus as your Saviour" has proved itself attractive to millions of disciples, and immense benefit has unquestionably resulted. But there is another class of hearer to whom the so-called gospel message, as expressed in the above form, is practically meaningless. To members of this class the invitation to accept as Saviour a man, albeit divinely inspired, who lived nineteen centuries ago is quite unattractive. And many such people have most unfortunately been spiritually starved because traditional Christianity, while focussing attention on the earthly career of Jesus, has kept in the background its vital truths as to the indwelling of Christ in the individual human soul. When about thirty-three years old Augustine was baptised, and some eight years subsequently was made co-adjutor to the bishop of Hippo Regius, a town near the site of the modern port of Bone. He subsequently became himself bishop of the see, making himself famous for his controversial treatises, directed firstly against his former friends the Manichaeans, and secondly against the Donatists, a schismatical body of Christians who aimed at a more rigid discipline than that common among the orthodox party. More famous than these writings however were those directed against Pelagianism. It appears that Coelestius, a pupil of Pelagius, had been excommunicated for teaching that the sin of Adam, being a purely personal act, prejudiced no one but himself, and consequently children who die without having committed actual sin are saved, even though unbaptised. Augustine undertook the refutation of these heterodox opinions in a treatise in which, though as a theologian he rises to the full height of his powers, he shows himself emphatically at variance with twentiethcentury ideas of justice. From 413 to 426 Augustine was engaged with The City of

igo INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY

God, a work in which, as an attempt to meet the situation caused by the patent weakness of the Roman Empire, he advocated a social order based on the religion of Christ. To some extent the medieval Papacy may be said to be founded on the ideas first put forward in detail by Augustine. Roman Catholic controversialists have with perfect justice urged, against those Christian bodies which lie outside the pale of the Latin Church, that Augustine clearly never contemplated the permanent schisms which have existed ever since the separation of East and West in 1054. One answer seems to be that Augustine, who was a theologian and not a prophet, seems equally to have been unable to contemplate the permanent adoption of an alien creed by the inhabitants of any district once converted to Christianity. So if he had been told that his own diocese of Hippo would cease to be Christian two centuries after his death, and would continue to be non-Christian for at least another thirteen centuries, he would doubtless have been inexpressibly shocked. So would he have been if he had been told that war among Christian nations would at times become even more common than among the heathen. He indeed regards it as a proof of the divinity of Christ that nations converted to Christianity, however savage may have been their antecedents, thereafter cease to engage in war. While Augustine was occupied in putting forward a philosophy based on the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity, the old Greek philosophy was falling more and more into disrepute. The celebrated school at Alexandria seems to have lost all real importance after the murder of Hypatia, a pagan teacher who in 415 was put to death by a Christian mob, instigated it is believed by St. Cyril the Patriarch of the city. The school at Athens, notwithstanding the excellent work done by Proclus (410-485), was definitely closed by order of Justinian in 529, and Gibbon was eventually able to write that he had described the triumph of barbarism and religion. It has been said above that Augustine in The City of God outlined a society based on what he believed to be the principles of Christianity. Ten years after his death the See of Rome was occupied by Leo the Great, a man whose vigorous personality enabled him to go far towards putting the theories of Augustine into practice. ST. LEO I (Pope 440-461). It is a testimony to the exceptional personality of this Pontiff that he was unanimously elected to

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the papal throne at a time when he was actually absent in Gaul, and when he was apparently only in deacon's orders. Some three years after assuming office he began to take measures against the Manichaeans, then very numerous at Rome. Some little time subsequently we find him able to assert that of these heretics some had been converted to Catholicism, and a large number had been condemned to perpetual banishment, while he asks the help of the provincial clergy in seeking out those who had fled. Shortly afterwards took place an important controversy between St. Leo and St. Hilary, Bishop of Aries. Into the details of this controversy it is unnecessary to go, but it is important to record the fact that Leo was able to secure an edict from the Emperor Valentinian III whereby the papal claims over the bishops of the Gallican Church were sanctioned by imperial law. In the history of the great struggle between the Popes and what afterwards came to be termed Gallicanism, this edict is of considerable importance. The closing years of the reign of Leo were full of political troubles. In 452 Attila, King of the Huns, invaded Italy and seemed likely to advance on Rome. Leo thereupon met the King near the banks of the Po. Exactly what passed at the interview is not known, but the fact remains that Attila discontinued his southward march. It has been suggested that his disinclination to penetrate farther into the peninsula was due to his lack of sea-power. Three years afterwards the Vandal chief Genseric, who commanded a powerful fleet, was able to sack Rome, but he did so in a relatively humane manner, without murder or incendiarism. The mildness of Genseric's methods, as compared to what has frequently taken place when other cities have been plundered by hostile troops, is again attributed to the influence of Leo. The intervention of Leo with Attila has given rise to one of those only too numerous distortions of history for which the student must be prepared. By order of Pope Julius II, Raphael painted (1512-1514) in the Stanza d'Eliodoro in the Vatican, his well-known fresco representing "the repulse of Attila.55 Leo I is depicted as seated on a white palfrey, in an attitude of blessing. Above him in the heavens are SS. Peter and Paul, who with swords in their hands strike terror into the hearts of Attila and his Huns. Now it is a little difficult to believe that SS. Peter and Paul really accomplished a miracle in 452 but made no attempt to prevent the sack of Rome in 455. Conse-

192 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY- OF CHRISTIANITY quently, while great prominence has been given by ecclesiastical historians to the events of 452, it has been thought expedient to keep those of 455 in the background. So it has finally come about that even standard works of reference, which cannot be accused of partiality, when writing of Leo mention his success in prevailing on Attila to spare Rome but frequently say nothing at all about Genseric. The consequence is that for every moderately well-educated reader who has any knowledge of the sack of Rome during Leo's reign, there are probably a hundred who have read that this Pontiff was able, either miraculously or otherwise, to deter Attila from attacking the city. The character of Leo merits study because in him we have the prototype of the series of great Popes who were subsequently called upon to play so prominent a part in European history. It seems fair to say of Leo and of his successors that they attempted to carry on the work of Jesus, but adopted widely different methods. They associated themselves wholly with their office, and regarded the aggrandisement of such office, by whatever means attained, as the aggrandisement of the Church. Bishop Gore (Roman Catholic Claims) sums up very ably the difficulties which beset them, and their manner of meeting these difficulties: The untamed, undisciplined races which formed the material of our modern nations were subjected to the yoke of the Church (mostly at the will of kings or chiefs) as to an external law, which was to train, mould, restrain them. The one need of such an age was authoritative discipline, and the Church became largely "a schoolmaster to bring men to Christ." She had in fact to deal with children in mind, with children whose one religious faculty, which was in full exercise, was faith in the form of a great readiness to accept revelations of the unseen world and to respect their ministers—the sort of faith which asks for nothing but a sufficiently firm voice of authority. Christianity thus became, by a one-sided development, a great imperialist and hierarchical system. The peremptory needs of government tended to overshadow earlier conceptions of the Church's function even in relation to the truth. Compare the Roman Leo's view of the truth with that of the Alexandrian Didymus or Athanasius, and the contrast is marked. Both Easterns and Westerns insist on the importance of the Church's dogma, but to the Easterns it is the guide in the knowledge of God, to the Westerns it is the instrument to subdue and discipline the souls of men. Thus the authoritativeness of tone

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which becomes characteristic of the Western Church makes her impatient of the slow and complex methods of arriving at the truth on disputed points which belonged to the earlier idea of 'the rule of faith.' The comparison of traditions, the elaborate appeal to Scripture, these methods are too slow and too indecisive: something more rapid and imperious is wanted. It is no longer enough to conceive of the Church as the catholic witness to a faith once for all delivered. She must be the living voice of God, the oracle of the Divine Will. And just as the strength and security of witness lies in the comparison and consent of independent testimonies, so the strength of authoritative oracular utterance lies in unimpeded, unqualified centrality, and Christendom needs a central chair of truth, where Divine Authority speaks and rules. Such has been broadly the Roman development of the Christian religion. Somewhat more than a century after the death of Leo, the papal throne was occupied by another great Pontiff, GREGORY I (Pope 590-604). To the English-speaking world Gregory is chiefly known owing to the fact that he, apparently in the mistaken belief that the ancient British Church was wholly extinct, commissioned Augustine (subsequently called Augustine of Canterbury) to commence the conversion of England. Gregory is one of the occupants of the papal chair whose truly Christ-like character has been justly appreciated by thoughtful opponents of the Roman system. A quarter of a century after the death of Gregory, the birth and rapid success of a rival religion inflicted on Christianity a series of blows, the effect of which is still being acutely felt. The following section is devoted to this subject. Mahometanism On June 20, 622, one of the prominent citizens of Mecca found himself forced hurriedly to leave the city for the oasis of Yathrib, about ten days' journey to the north. He had rendered himself unpopular among his fellow-townsmen owing to his attacks on the idolatrous nature of their worship, and also owing to his claims to be a prophet and to receive direct inspiration from the Deity. His name was something like Muhammad, but the form Mahomet, though probably not such a close approximation to the Arabic original, is more familiar to the English-speaking world. If on the date in question an inhabitant of Mecca had been told that in consequence of Mahomet's flight Yathrib would cease to be given a name, but would be considered sufficiently N

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important to be called simply "The Town" (Al Medina), the statement would probably have been received with incredulity. And if such inhabitant had been further told that his own descendants and hundreds of millions of other believers would for many centuries consider June 20, 622, as the commencement of their era, this incredulity would doubtless have been intensified. In fact the rise and progress of the religion founded by Mahomet constitute a series of events of capital importance in the history of mankind, and these events have had so direct an influence on the progress of Christianity that it is necessary that a few remarks thereon be made in this treatise. It may be well to state as a preliminary that Christianity and Mahometanism have found themselves in direct conflict more especially during three epochs: (i) The time of the early conquests in Asia, North Africa, Spain and the south of France. This phase commenced shortly after 622 and may be regarded as coming to an end with the defeat inflicted by Charles the Hammer on the Mahometans between Tours and Poitiers in 732. (ii) The Crusades, which were a series of unsuccessful attempts on the part of Christians to regain permanent possession of Palestine. Their epoch may be regarded as commencing with an expedition led in part by Peter the Hermit in 1096, and ending with the fall of Acre in 1291. (iii) The irruption of the Turks into Eastern Europe in the fourteenth and two following centuries. The most outstanding item of this series of events is the fall of Constantinople in 1453. The events referred to under headings (ii) and (iii) will be touched upon in later sections of this chapter. In this place a few observations are offered concerning heading (i). Mahomet, having settled down with his followers at Yathrib (Medina), soon acquired, possibly not wholly unjustly, the reputation of being a robber of passing caravans. Hence his ex-fellow-townsmen at Mecca sent out an expedition to crush him, and the repulse of this expedition forms the commencement of the extraordinary series of combined military and missionary operations which in less than a century carried the new religion from Arabia, across Northern Africa and the Iberian Peninsula to Provence. We are the more impressed

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with the magnitude of the Moslem achievement when we remember how comparatively small was the progress made by Christianity within the first hundred years after Jesus commenced his public teaching. The early Mahometan successes are ably summed up in picturesque language by the brothers Tharaud, from one of whose books the following is taken: In the name of the all-powerful and merciful God, Amron, Welid, Yezid, Khaled, all the great chieftains of the new-born Islam, opened for themselves a sanguinary route through the neighbouring tribes, inflicting on them chastisement of such kinds as seemed appropriate, and taking as slaves all those whom they did not massacre. After which, throughout the desert, from the Hedjaz to the plateau of Nedj, from the Yemen to Irak, from the Yamama to the Hadramaout, the whole population appreciated the fact that the religion of the Prophet, concerning which executioners and victims alike understood practically nothing, was unquestionably the true one. This operation finished, the bands which had become accustomed to pillage, and in which converters and converted were mixed up indiscriminately, took on their own initiative the route to Syria, which has always seemed to the half-starved Bedouin, an eater of lizards and jumping-mice (gerboises), to be the land of plenty. Consequently one fine day people at Byzantium learnt that on the shore of the Dead Sea some frontier guards had been roughly handled. But at the moment the court of Heraclius was occupied only with the quarrel which divided the Syrian Church into orthodox and Jacobites, the one party recognising a dual nature in Jesus and the other the divine nature only. The matter of the frontier guards passed unnoticed. Such was nevertheless the commencement of the extraordinary adventure which in less than three years placed Damascus, Jerusalem, Palestine, and the whole of Syria in Arab hands. Then came the turn of Egypt which has never resisted any conqueror whatsoever. The Empire of the Persians itself soon collapsed before these Bedouins whom the hope of plunder had at first enlisted, but who were now rendered fanatical by a success which they interpreted as a most evident proof of the genuineness of the Prophet. (J. and J. THARAUD, Les Cavaliers d* Allah.) It may well be asked what was the secret which enabled a series of Moslem commanders, constantly engaged as they were in quarrelling among themselves and constantly suffering as they did from the intrigues of their followers, to be so marvellously successful when combating the infidel. This success seems

ig6 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY

to have been largely caused by the same combination of factors as that which in later years aroused in Christian countries such enthusiasm for the Crusades. Warriors saw every prospect of unlimited plunder if they were victorious: if defeated there was held before their eyes the sure and certain hope of a blessed immortality. In this respect, as in so many others, there is much in common between the histories of the two rival creeds. It may therefore be of interest to say something about the Mahometan tenets, with a view to noting points both of similarity to and of difference from Christianity. In the first place we observe that Mahometan theology is, like the Jewish, vastly simpler than the teaching of the Christian creeds. The Jews indeed in their best days gave but little attention to theological speculation, to philosophy and to science. But they had a profound conviction of the unity, the wisdom and the presence of God. In these respects the outlook of Mahomet was far more Jewish than Christian. He indeed at the outset of his career confidently expected the Jews to recognise him as one who continued the work of their own prophets, and he was much disappointed when he found that stiff-necked people unwilling to modify its faith accordingly. On the other hand, he had no sympathy whatever with that development of Christian doctrine which, starting from Paul's tenet that there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, had already adopted as its principal dogma the affirmation of the Godhead of Jesus, and was in further process of developing the cult of his mother as a semi-divine being. Moreover Mahomet shared with the Jews an intense horror of the veneration of any picture or image of the Deity, in which respect he again differed from established Christian usage. For a convert to adopt the new creed was an exceedingly simple matter. If a man made his "confession of faith" saying: There is no God but God, and Mahomet is the Prophet of God, he was, in virtue of that confession alone, said to be "ennobled with Islam," and was reckoned among the true believers. It is true that this extreme simplicity was found to be not without certain practical disadvantages. Whenever the incursion of a powerful band of Moslem raiders suddenly convinced some peaceful tribe of the profound spiritual verity of the teaching of the Prophet, there was always the risk that twelve months subsequently the whole incident might have come to occupy only a secondary place in the memories of the new converts. To guard against this contingency the conquering Moslem generals

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sometimes adopted the simple precaution of cutting off either an ear or a finger of such tribal chiefs as they were successful in converting, so that the new believers might always keep before them a permanent symbol of the incalculable benefits accruing through their adoption of the true faith. But while the Moslem theology is incomparably simpler than the Christian, the former religion is considerably more rigid in its demands on the individual worshipper. Mahometans believe that the Prophet received a revelation from God enjoining the recitation of prayers by the faithful no less than fifty times a day. Mahomet however, on descending from the highest heaven where he had received the Divine command, passed through that part of the celestial kingdom which is ruled over by Moses, whose long experience as a law-giver prompted him to advise Mahomet to re-approach the Deity with a view to obtaining some modification of this ordinance. As the result of successive applications at the throne of grace, God was eventually persuaded to reduce the number of daily prayers to five, and this command is still strictly followed. Moreover fasting among the Mahometans is a far more serious matter than among the Christian laity. During the month of Ramadan, the believer is not permitted to eat, drink, or smoke between sunrise and sunset. While of course this precept is not invariably strictly observed, such observance is in fact even to-day very much more conscientious than an uninformed person would deem probable. The result is of course very severe privation, especially when the month of Ramadan falls during the summer, and it then follows that towards the end of the fast a very unfavourable effect is shown on the physical health and mental balance of the population of Mahometan cities. The Mahometans took over from the Jews both the practice of circumcision and the abstinence from certain foods, notably pork. A prohibition laid down by Mahomet with respect to the use of fermented beverages is probably to be accounted for by the Prophet's personal distaste for wine. Among Christians the consumption of wine, albeit on an exceedingly small scale, forms an essential part of the most sacred religious rite; so it is a little illogical for a Christian, however abstemious he may be personally, to adopt the tenet that the drinking of wine is in itself displeasing to God. As regards sanitation and personal cleanliness Moslem nations were undoubtedly, up to comparatively modern times,

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far in advance of the Christians. The ultimate origin of the importance given by the Mahometans in this respect may have been the abnormally keen sense of smell possessed by the Prophet. On the other hand the early Christians belonged very largely to the poorer classes of the great cities of the Roman Empire, and in their own houses there were presumably but small facilities for cleanliness, the public baths supplying what private residences lacked. Unfortunately these public baths came to be the scenes certainly of immodesty and probably of immorality. Consequently the baths were in principle avoided by the Christians, who very properly thought that cleanliness of the soul was more important than that of the skin. So it unfortunately happened that the ideas of sanctity and dirt came to be, more or less subconsciously, associated in the minds of many Christians; and notwithstanding the immense world-wide progress in sanitation made during the past hundred years, this idea is not wholly extinct. On the general subject of the conflict between science and religion it may be said that Mahometan and Christian teachers are both open to criticism, because both have appealed to a literal interpretation of their sacred writings in order to rebut the findings of physical science. But until the dawn of the Renaissance, the record of Mahometanism seems to have been in this respect somewhat better than was that of Christianity. In the twentieth century the so-called Christian nations are materially so much in advance of the Mahometans that we have difficulty in realising how relatively backward were the former during the dark ages. Medicine and mathematics especially were held in much higher esteem, from the seventh century to the fifteenth, in Moslem than in Christian countries. Hence it happens that our numerals in common use come to us from the Arabs (though their ultimate origin is said to be Indian). We also give the Arabic name to formal mathematics, which science the Arabs recovered from the early Greek writers and termed "the science of redintegration and equation" Urn al-jabr wal muqabalah, or more shortly al-jabr or algebra. Mahometans have in general shown themselves vastly more tolerant than have the Christians both towards the Jews and towards their own co-religionists who differ from them on questions of detail. On the other hand, as regards the mutual relationships of Mahometans and Christians, no very marked degree of charity has been customarily shown on either side.

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Probably the most striking difference between Christian and Mahometan institutions relates to the relationship between the sexes. It must be remembered that Mahometanism was first propagated by nomadic peoples of a warlike disposition. For them the population problem was exactly the reverse of that which to-day confronts such overcrowded countries as England and Belgium. The desert tribes were continually seeing their numbers depleted in battle, and it was necessary for their very existence that a constant supply of young men should be growing up to take the place of the fallen. So Mahomet assumed that every young woman has the duty of producing children, and he consequently held that she should be permitted neither to remain a virgin nor to lead an immoral life. Polygamy was of course a logical outcome of these principles. Mahomet held that it was meritorious for a man to have but one wife, though four were permitted to the faithful in general, while he himself, as the result of a special Divine revelation, was allowed to have fifteen. He however in actual fact never seems to have had more than eleven at the same time. The laws regulating the number of wives were in practice modified by the system of treating prisoners captured in war. The Mahometans, to some considerable extent at least, followed the general lines indicated in the Jewish Pentateuch (Num. xxxi. 17, 18): female captives no longer virgins were put to death; if still virgins they became the slaves of their captors, so that they might rear children to swell the numbers of the true believers. The point has frequently been stressed that polygamy is frankly recognised in the Old Testament and is nowhere very clearly denounced in the New. The answer seems to be that Christianity aims at assisting the individual soul to attain union with God, and when this union is achieved, albeit incompletely, the Holy Spirit serves as a guide enabling the believer to order his conduct in harmony with the Divine Will. In other words, the true Christian escapes the bondage of the law and enters into the true liberty of the gospel (Gal. v. i). Hence the New Testament does not profess to lay down any detailed and inflexible code of conduct: he who is in Christ and who has consequently become a new creature (2 Cor. v. 17) submits questions to his conscience in the belief that he will be guided aright by the Holy Spirit. Now the uniform sentiment of Christianity has been that polygamy is inconsistent with the higher spiritual life, and for

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this reason should be eschewed. Mahomet, when recommending his followers to have but one wife, seems to have recognised the same general principle. But it would be an over-statement to affirm that the polygamous system in the form established by Mahomet had no advantages. Attention has already been called to the effect of multiplicity of wives on the birth-rate. And it must not be overlooked that under the Christian system of monogamy it has come about that it is frequently the women of exceptional talent and individuality who remain celibate, and who consequently are unable to pass on their gifts to their offspring. Mahomet would have had no great respect for a system which permitted women of such extraordinary abilities as St. Hilda of Whitby, St. Theresa of Avila, Elizabeth of England and Florence Nightingale to die without an effort to bequeath to their progeny some of their unusual talents. It must moreover not be forgotten that Mahomet and his successors proved themselves more successful than Christian legislators in solving the problem of the professionally immoral woman. Again, under Moslem rule married women retain a control, quite unknown in Christian countries until recent years, over their own estates, including whatever presents their husbands may give them. It must therefore have been with a certain naive surprise that Christian readers first studied the "Thousand and One Nights," with their humorous stories of how a rich wife, as a result of some domestic friction, would sometimes cause her servants to give her husband a beating and to turn him out of doors. Reference has already been made to the fact that on more than one occasion circumstances have arisen which have had the unexpected effect of increasing the prestige of the Bishops of Rome as compared with that of the other Bishops. The rise of Mahometanism forms a case in point. The disaster to Christianity was incalculable. The religion of Jesus was stamped out of the country of his birth. In vast regions of Asia, in the greater part of North Africa, in parts of Spain, Christianity was either exterminated altogether or became the religion of a few politically unimportant bodies, resigned to suffer chronic oppression at the hands of their Moslem conquerors. But what was a disaster for Christianity as a whole, indirectly brought about the triumph of the Papacy, because this disaster caused the centre of gravity of Christendom definitely to move westwards. The rise of Mahometanism injured the Latin Churches to a very serious extent, but the blow to the Greek Churches

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was so incalculably more severe that the hegemony of Christendom was definitely left with the former. After the Moslem conquests the Eastern Bishops could still deny that the Pope was dejure the Primate of Christendom, but no one could deny his pre-eminence de facto. Growth of the Papal Power

Mention has already been made of Charles the Hammer, "Mayor of the Palace" of Austrasia, or Eastern Gaul, and subsequently ruler of the whole Frankish kingdom. Some years after the death of Charles, his son Pippin the Short assumed the title of King of the Franks, and afterwards at the Pope's invitation invaded northern Italy. On this occasion, with that open-handed generosity which is sometimes observed in conquerors who find themselves in occupation of territory which they have no obvious means of governing, Pippin transferred to the Roman Pontiff dominion over Ravenna, Ferrara and five lesser Italian cities styled jointly " the Pentapolis." In this way were constituted the "States of the Church." On Christmas Day 800 the son of Pippin, Charles the Great (Carolus Magnus or Charlemagne), was crowned Emperor at Rome by Pope Leo III. It is doubtful whether or no Charlemagne had been previously consulted, and indeed the imperial title proved a source of embarrassment to him, as he had previously hoped, by marriage with the Empress Irene then reigning at Constantinople, to obtain peaceably dominion over the entire Christian world. The fact remains however that he received at Leo's hands the imperial crown, and in consequence we find an Emperor at Rome as well as an Empress at Constantinople, both claiming universal dominion as successors of Caesar Augustus and of Constantine. It has been remarked: "Two halves confronted one another, each claiming to be the whole: two finite bodies touched and yet each claimed to be infinite." Thus was formed what was afterwards called the "Holy Roman Empire," though, as the dominion of Charlemagne collapsed soon after his death, it is perhaps more proper to date the real commencement of the Empire from 962, when Otto I was crowned by Pope John XII. The adjective "Holy" seems to have been incorporated into the title about the middle of the twelfth century, owing to the fact that the Emperors had become desirous, in face of the papal attitude, of emphasising the sanctity of their own office. The claims of the Emperors

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to universal dominion were specially brought to the notice of the English nation when Richard I, after having been taken prisoner by Duke Leopold of Austria and having been surrendered to the Emperor Henry VI (i 193), was compelled to do homage to the latter for the throne of England. But when in 1416 the Emperor Sigismund paid a visit to this country, and Henry V sent three hundred ships to escort him across the Channel, on the arrival of the fleet at Dover the King's brother rode into the water and with drawn sword demanded that the Emperor should formally declare that he had not come to claim Imperial rights. Leaving aside however the question of the influence of the Empire on European politics, we are here concerned with its relationships with the Church. From quite early times jurists had in mind the principles enunciated by Augustine in The City of God, and they conceived of an essentially Christian state of society, governed by Pope and Emperor working in complete harmony one with another. The twin powers, the spiritual and the temporal, were compared to the two swords mentioned in Luke xxii. 38, and the supreme aim of both was assumed to be the extension of the kingdom of Christ on earth. The Papacy was a visible witness to the unity of the Church; the Empire similarly bore witness to the fundamental political unity of Christendom. The arrangement would of course have been an excellent one if there had been any means of ensuring the harmonious co-operation of the parties concerned. And it would indeed appear that for about two centuries the system really did work tolerably well. But during these two centuries events occurred which had the practical effect of consolidating the papal position at the expense both of the secular authority and of local Churches. About 850 an unknown writer adopting the name of Isidore, Archbishop of Seville, put together a kind of compendium of ecclesiastical precedents and legislation, now known by the name of the "Decretals of pseudo-Isidore." This composition, designed as it is to give support to the papal system, is a clever mixture of authentic materials and forgeries. It commences with a series of seventy forged letters attributed to the Popes of the first three centuries. Then follows a resume of the acts of the various Councils, and this resume incorporates among much genuine matter certain earlier forgeries, of which the best known is the "Donation of Constantine," reference to which has already been made. A third part of the work consists

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of thirty forged letters, attributed to Popes from Silvester to Damasus; then follow the genuine papal decretals together with thirty-five apochryphal ones. In this way the highlycentralised ecclesiastical system which it was sought to impose on the Church in the ninth century was represented as having been in force almost from the Apostolic ages. Until the fifteenth century the decretals were universally accepted as genuine; since the sixteenth they have been universally admitted to be false, any further discussion being limited to the question of the influence actually exercised by the forgeries on ecclesiastical policy. Professor Boudinhon, who has already been cited in these pages, puts the case for the Roman Church as follows: In the papal letters of the end of the ninth and the whole of the tenth century, only two or three insignificant citations of the pseudo-Isidore have been pointed out; the use of the pseudo-Isidorian forged documents did not become prevalent at Rome till about the middle of the eleventh century, in consequence of the circulation of the canonical collections in which they figured; but nobody then thought of casting any doubt on the authenticity of those documents (Encyclopedia Britannica).

The above is not very convincing. It is not denied that the forgeries were regarded as authoritative by the Popes of the ninth and tenth centuries; it is merely argued that no very considerable public use was made of the forgeries till the eleventh. But even admitting this to be true, the point is that the forged compendium was for six centuries accepted as authoritative by the Popes and by the Church generally. Its influence therefore in moulding papal and ecclesiastical thought and policy must have been enormous, even though it cannot be proved that the Popes, during the ninth and tenth centuries, actually quoted from the compendium to more than a small extent. Professor Dollenger and his colleagues (writing under the pseudonym of "Janus": Der Papst und das Condi), tell us with respect to the forged decretals that St. Nicholas I (Pope 858-867) assured the Gallican bishops: that the Roman Church had long possessed these documents in its archives, and venerated them as forming part of its ancient records. He added that, although not forming an integral part of the collection of Dionysian canons, all and every papal pronouncement had of itself the full force of law

204 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY for the Church (Mansi. Condi xv). It was in accordance with this line of thought that at a synod held in Rome in 863 he anathematised anyone who failed to respect any doctrine or order expressed by the Pope (Harduin-Concil v). From the moment that the whole Church obeyed the pontifical decrees, and the popes had the right of condemning or approving, at their discretion, the Synodical decisions (as Nicholas, basing himself on the fiction of pseudo-Isidoro, claimed), only one step more was needed to arrive at the promulgation of personal infallibility. A long time elapsed however before this step was actually taken. The next important event which it is advisable to mention is the rupture between the Eastern and Western Churches in 1054. Previously to this rupture certain divergencies between the two great branches of Christianity, the Latin and the Greek, had been manifest. The Latin branch, as we have already seen, tended to emphasise the necessity for centralisation, discipline and obedience. The Greek branch was subjected to the interference of the civil power in a manner which would have seemed intolerable in the West; but what is of even more importance is the fact that the Greeks may be said to have had the theological temperament, while the Latins had not. It has been remarked that "Eastern theology had its roots in Greek philosophy, while a great deal of Western theology was based on Roman law. The Greek Fathers succeeded the Sophists, the Latin theologians succeeded the Roman advocates." It came about therefore that the Greeks, continually involved as they were in disputes as to the ultimate nature of the Deity, found themselves obliged to admire the calm of the Western Church, where discussions as to fundamentals were discouraged. We not infrequently find therefore that Eastern bishops have freely acknowledged and made use of the unique position of the Roman Pontiffs. When however the Western Church has attempted to insist, not on such preeminence as the historical position of the See of Rome clearly justifies, but on that absolute authority which results from enforcing the Petrine claims in their entirety, then the Eastern Churches have consistently protested. The actual point of dispute which brought matters to a head was the insertion of the word Filioque in the Creed. As explained on page 130 it seems probable that this insertion was caused by a copyist's error, but however this may be, a deadlock had long been reached owing to the refusal of the Western Church to delete

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the word and the refusal of the Eastern Church to insert it. Consequently in 1054 Pope Leo IX excommunicated the whole of the Eastern Churches, thus creating the definite breach which continues to our own day. This breach was of course a logical result of insistence on the Petrine claims: the Pope desired to be the acknowledged ruler of the whole Christian Church, and consequently declared in effect that those who refused to recognise his supremacy did not form part thereof. So the events of 1054 divided the Church into two main sections, commonly called "Catholic" and "Orthodox." The word "Orthodox" gives us comparatively little trouble: it means "correct," so the Greek Church, calling itself "Orthodox," claims to teach the correct faith in much the same way as every other Church claims to teach the correct faith. But the word "Catholic," which means "universal," presents a certain difficulty. It would appear that, as Milton (True Religion) reminds us, the word was originally applied to the Christian Church because it aimed at the inclusion of all men, in contradistinction from the Jewish religious system, which only aimed in general at the inclusion of all men of Jewish race. In this sense of course the Mahometan religion is as catholic as the Christian, because each aims at converting the whole of humanity. So we find the word "Catholic" used freely by people who attach no very great importance to the term. Thus the Greek Church calls itself The Holy Orthodox, Catholic, Apostolic, Oriental Church, and the expression the Holy Catholic Church occupies a prominent place in the formularies of the Church of England, although a member of the latter, if asked the question "Are you a Catholic?" would quite possibly reply: "No, I am a Protestant." On the other hand the term "Catholic" is restricted by the Roman Church to its own body, and it is difficult to see the propriety of such restriction. We can imagine a Roman Catholic apologist putting his case somewhat as follows: Both before and after 1054 the Holy Catholic Church consisted of those who rendered due and effective obedience to its earthly ruler, the Roman Pontiff. A change of creed having been made, and certain bodies of Christians having refused to accept such change, such bodies were anathematised by the Roman Pontiff and cast out of the Church, which nevertheless remained as before both Holy and Catholic.

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Leaving aside altogether any question of historical error here involved, it would seem that the word "Catholic" can only be rightly applied to the Roman Church in the sense that its followers desire their religion to be universally dominant. But a pious Protestant would obviously be inspired by a corresponding wish, and could therefore equally claim to be Catholic. It will be observed that the excommunication of the Oriental Christians had an effect somewhat analogous to that of the Mahometan conquests; that is to say, while the number of human souls regarded by Romanists as members of Christ's Church was decreased, the importance of the Papacy was increased. After the excommunication of 1054, Leo IX was in a position to claim that all true Christians acknowledged the papal supremacy. Such claim might or might not have been just, but it undoubtedly forms a logical deduction from St. Leo's premisses. St. Leo throughout his pontificate had the benefit of the advice of an ecclesiastic of very exceptional ability, a Tuscan named Hildebrand, who was able to render valuable services to no less than five of the former's successors. The reign of one of these, Nicholas II, was distinguished by a measure, ascribed to the influence of Hildebrand, whereby it was enacted that future Popes should be elected, independently of lay interference, by a body composed of (a) certain bishops having sees in the vicinity of Rome; (b) the parish priests of Rome; and (c) the deacons entrusted with the administration of the finances of certain Roman churches. The members of this electoral body, or college, were called Cardinals, as their functions were regarded of such importance as to be hinge-like (Lat. cardo, a hinge). Although it is true that the dignity of Cardinal has been and is frequently awarded to non-Italians whose connection with their respective parishes or churches may often be of the slightest, nevertheless the fact remains that the practical effect of the decree of Nicholas II has been that: (a) lay influence in papal elections has been, if not eliminated, at all events greatly reduced; (b) a certain continuity in papal policy has been, if not ensured, at all events rendered more probable; and (c) it has eventually come about that in general both the Popes themselves and the majority of their councillors have been Italian. In 1073 Hildebrand himself ascended the papal throne and took the title of GREGORY VII. To this Pontiff belongs the merit, or the demerit as some critics might suggest, of having pressed

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the papal claims to their full and logical extent. His ultimate aim was the entire subjection of the laity to the clergy, and of the clergy to the Pope. Now it has already been explained that the Empire and the Papacy were looked on by medieval jurists as twin powers, jointly exercised in bringing about the extension of the Kingdom of Christ on earth. But this theory presents one very obvious point of weakness. If Pope and Emperor were equally to be looked on as powers ordained of God, the former, who never commanded an army of his own sufficient to impose forcibly his will on any important European nation, was clearly at a disadvantage as compared with the latter. And if, on the other hand, the Pope was admitted to be the supreme authority in all matters of faith and morals, or in other words to be the final judge as to what course of action was the right one, the Emperor merely became a kind of executive officer, obliged to mould his policy according to the papal direction, and subject to deposition when he ceased to enjoy the papal favour. Cardinal Manning (The Vatican Decrees in their bearing on civil allegiance, 1875) puts this doctrine in its most attractive form when he says: If Christian Princes and their laws deviate from the law of God, the Church has authority from God to judge of that deviation, and by all its powers enforce the correction of that departure from justice. . . . No just prince can be deposed by any power on earth, but whether a prince is just or not is a matter for the Pope to judge of. The claim that the Pope is the ruler over crowned heads, and has power to release subjects from their oath of fidelity, had been put forward by Gregory IV (Pope 827-844), but it was not till the time of Gregory VII that this claim was pressed to its logical conclusions: If the Holy See received from God the power to judge spiritual matters, why should it not also judge temporal matters? . . . When God said to S. Peter "Feed my sheep," did he make an exception in the case of kings? The episcopate is as much superior to the crown as gold is to lead. . . . God, conferring on S. Peter the supreme right of binding and loosing in heaven and on earth, excepted no one, and freed no one from his authority: he submitted to him all the principalities, all the powers of the globe. In this manner Christ, the King of Glory, constituted the chief of the apostles Lord over all the kingdoms of the earth. Heathen is he who refuses obedience to the

208 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY apostolic see, and those sovereigns who have the audacity to disobey the decrees of the Holy See lose their royal dignity (Greg. VII, Epist. iv. vii, viii).

In the light of these claims it is not difficult to understand the difficulties which inevitably beset both Pope and Emperor in their mutual dealings. The situation may be likened to that of a castle inhabited by two rulers, one of whom is elected by a group of German princes and the other by a committee of Italian ecclesiastics. We can imagine the former of the two rulers saying: "I and my colleague divide between us jurisdiction over this castle and its domain: certain matters fall within the scope of my authority and others within that of my colleague." It is quite clear that the situation so created would most probably cause considerable friction. But now let us further imagine that the second ruler affirms: "I am the supreme governor of the castle and domain. The man who calls himself my colleague and professes to rule jointly with me is merely my subordinate, and only exercises such limited authority as I permit, and is always liable to be removed from his office should I so decide." It is now clear that friction is not merely probable but inevitable. It consequently follows that the history of the Holy Roman Empire is very largely a history of disputes between Pope and Emperor, and those between Gregory VII and the Emperor Henry IV are among the most important. Into the details it is unnecessary to go: it suffices to say that Henry was excommunicated by Gregory, and was declared to have forfeited his crown. Henry in consequence travelled to Italy and presented himself before Gregory at Canossa, near Reggio Emilia (1077), where he did penance and was eventually absolved. (It is impossible to say what truth there is in the well-known legends as to the extreme personal humiliation inflicted on Henry before absolution was granted.) Three years subsequently Gregory again excommunicated his rival, but on this occasion he found that unless backed by a certain degree of public opinion the sentences of even the greatest of the Popes fall somewhat flat. A Council was summoned at Brixen in the Tyrol, Gregory was declared deposed, and Guibert of Ravenna nominated in his stead. Guibert was consequently enthroned as Clement III, and Gregory eventually died in exile. The various stages in the series of disputes between Popes and Emperors have been discussed in detail by historians:

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frequently such historians write from a purely ultramontane point of view and seek to prove that in all respects the Pope was wholly in the right; sometimes on the other hand less partial writers have tried to apportion the blame according to the circumstances of each specific incident. But the details are really not of vast importance to the general readfer, because it is clear that everything depends on the question of principle involved. The Popes made certain claims which were either justifiable or otherwise. In the first hypothesis the Emperors were wholly and consistently wrong in having resisted the Divine will as manifested by the voice of the Vicar of Christ: in the second hypothesis the responsibility lies wholly with the Popes who wantonly distorted the Christian religion and needlessly involved Europe in costly and sanguinary wars. A point however to be borne in mind in judging of these quarrels is that the Popes consistently aimed at the subjection of the Emperors, not their extinction. The Empire finally collapsed when Francis II abdicated in 1806. At the Congress of Vienna held after the fall of Napoleon a few years subsequently the Pope formally protested against the failure of the Powers to restore the Empire as a "centre of political unity" of Christian nations. It has already been observed that Hildebrand aimed at the entire subjection of the laity to the clergy. In order that this ideal might be fully realised, it was clearly necessary that ecclesiastics should keep aloof from the ordinary social and domestic life of their lay neighbours. Hence much of Hildebrand's energy was directed to the enforcement of a rule, laid down as early as 385 by Pope Siricius, to the effect that the clergy should remain celibate. The action of Siricius was presumably taken in view of the considerations mentioned on page 79, but it is noteworthy that such action should have been taken in face of the apostolic warning (i Tim. iv. 1-3) that in the latter times some should depart from the faith, forbidding to marry. Much discussion has taken place as to the extent to which the rule of celibacy had been actually observed before the time of Hildebrand, but it seems certain that with respect to the parish priests a great deal of toleration was generally shown, while even as regards the bishops marriage does not seem to have been very exceptional. The celebrated Saint Swithun, Bishop of Winchester (d. 862), was married, and we read that during 112 years (942-1054) the o

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See of Rouen was successively occupied by three bishops, two of whom were actually married, while the third had a family. In 1051, presumably under the influence of Hildebrand, Leo IX, in his attempt to enforce the rule of celibacy, decreed that the partner of a guilty priest should be condemned to slavery. This is one of the many examples of the general practice of ecclesiastical law whereby it came about that, in the event of an equal degree of guilt, a lay person was more severely treated than a priest. An echo of this decree was heard in England at the trial of Archbishop Cranmer, when one of the judges reminded the accused th^t his children were "bondmen to the see of Canterbury." It is interesting to notice that as a result of the enforcement of the papal decrees, married clergy were treated with far less consideration than those guilty of simple immorality. We find even so sincere a Christian as St. Thomas More (1478-1535) writing that the clerical marriage "defileth the priest more than double or treble whoredom." This point is of importance as being symptomatic of the fundamental change which had come over organised Christianity: spiritual matters had been allowed to fall into the background, while questions of legality and discipline had attained a maximum of importance. We might imagine that a sincere Christian would believe that if a priest feels certain very human sentiments towards a female member of his flock, it is better that he should marry her than seduce her. But the ecclesiastic says in effect: This is not so. If he seduces her he can, after confessing his sin with due penitence, be absolved. But he is unable validly to marry her, and if he go through an invalid ceremony of marriage, he not merely seduces his victim but he openly rebels against established Church order, and cannot be absolved until he not only expresses due penitence but unreservedly undertakes to treat his so-called marriage as null and void. Insistence on the celibacy of the clergy has been the subject of a certain amount of criticism even on the part of the Roman Catholic laity, but it seems to be generally agreed that the influence of ecclesiastics has thereby been greatly augmented. This matter forms one of the points of difference from the Greek Church, wherein candidates for the priesthood customarily leave the seminary for a few months in order to choose

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a wife so that they can be ordained when already married. They do not marry after ordination. A little over a century after the death of Gregory VII, the papal dignity was assumed by INNOCENT III, whose reign (1198-1216) nearly coincides with that of King John of England. It is noteworthy that, as in the case of Leo the Great, the electors' choice fell on a man who was not, at the time of his election, an ordained priest. The policy of Innocent, possibly the greatest of the Popes, was practically identical with that of Gregory, but whereas the latter had been only partially successful, the former carried the papal power, spiritual and temporal, to a height equalled neither before nor after. His attitude towards European politics will be appreciated from two answers given by him, one to the Emperor at Constantinople, who had quoted the injunction of Peter (i Peter ii. 13) to submit to the King as supreme, and to whom Innocent replied that these words were addressed to the laity and not to the clergy. The other reply was given to the ambassadors of Philip Augustus, to whom he said: To princes power is given on earth, but to priests it is attributed also in heaven; to the former only over bodies, to the latter also over souls. Whence it follows that by so much as the soul is superior to the body, the priesthood is superior to the kingship. Considerations of space prevent any detailed account of the extraordinary success of Innocent in enforcing his purpose on the various European rulers, but three points may be lightly touched on: (a) the Crusades; (b) dealings with England; and (c) the suppression of the Albigenses. As regards the first question, Innocent showed the utmost zeal in preaching a holy war against the Saracens. To this end immense preparations were made, but what actually took place in his reign was that the commanders of the principal expedition allowed themselves to be deflected from their original purpose, and instead of invading Palestine they waged war on the Eastern Empire, stormed Constantinople, and proclaimed Baldwin of Flanders Emperor of the East (1204). This change of plan was opposed to the wishes of Innocent, but he very justifiably took the best possible advantage of the new situation: he found himself in the unprecedented position of being able to nominate a Patriarch of Constantinople, and he expressed the hope that henceforth the Church would be "one fold under one shepherd."

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In this way the papal authority was increased, although in after years memories of the terrible sack of Constantinople by the armies of Western Europe formed an additional obstacle in the way of a possible reunion of the Oriental Church with the Occidental. We now come to consider the special relationships of Innocent with England. At the period of which we speak the Archbishops of Canterbury were customarily the chief advisers of the Crown, and it was therefore not unreasonable that the right of nomination should be exercised by the reigning sovereign. But at that time, as in our day, the Chapter of Canterbury claimed the right to elect its Archbishop. At the present time the difficulty is in practice surmounted by the Chapter going through the fiction of electing whomever may be appointed by the Crown; but in 1206, the see having fallen vacant, the monks of Canterbury showed themselves less complaisant, and a deadlock ensued. The King, the bishops of the province and a part of the Chapter favoured the translation of the Bishop of Norwich to the vacant see: other members of the Chapter, being apparently the younger of the monks, privately elected their own Sub-Prior. The Bishop of Norwich was then elected by such of the monks as were favourable to him. Both candidates appealed to Rome for confirmation, and the Pope, holding both elections null and void, ordered that a fresh election should take place in his own presence. Innocent then induced the representatives of the monks to elect one of the Cardinals, Stephen Langton, an Englishman, and indeed a very suitable man for the office had King John's consent been obtained. The King refused to recognise this election, and Innocent in consequence laid England under an interdict (1208). The great majority of the English clergy in obedience to the Pope's command closed their churches, although baptisms, marriages and the unction of the dying took place in private. In the winter of 1212-1213 Innocent declared John deposed, and called on Philip Augustus of France to invade England. John, however, thereupon made complete submission to the Pope, agreeing to hold his crown as a papal vassal and to pay an annual tribute. This submission left the King in an unsatisfactory position as regards the nobles, people and the more patriotic of the clergy: they had previously been disgusted by his crimes and now they became emboldened by his weakness. The nobles drew up (1215)— and in this they seem to have been assisted by Cardinal Langton

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himself—a document (Magna Charta) consisting of sixty-three very heterogeneous clauses to which they practically forced the King to pledge himself. The sealing of this Charter is an event of great importance in English history, not so much on account of any strikingly new principle therein adopted, but rather because the insistence on its acceptance served to remind the King forcibly of his duties, and warned him that deposition might follow failure to carry them out. The clauses to which subsequent generations have attached special importance are Nos. 39 and 40, which stipulate that no one shall be imprisoned except by legal process and judgment of his peers, and further that justice shall not be denied, delayed or sold. The reference to judgment by the peers of the accused seems to imply the maintenance of different courts of criminal jurisprudence for different classes of offenders—ecclesiastics, lay nobles, lay commoners. But the remaining portion of the two clauses in question appears merely to aim at calling the King's attention to his remissness in the past. No ruler, however unscrupulous or lazy, could possibly claim that it was consistent with his duty to deny, to delay or to sell justice. The clauses to which the framers of the document evidently attached greatest importance are those which tend to limit the power of the Crown by confirming the "liberties" (i.e. privileges) of the tenants-in-chief, and (No. 15) by extending some of these "liberties" to the tenants of the tenants-in-chief! It is further somewhat vaguely stipulated that the English Church shall be free (Nos. i and 63). Hence the general policy of the framers is the precise opposite of that of the great statesmen—Louis XI, Henri IV, Richelieu and Mazarin—whose combined efforts raised France from a condition resembling anarchy to its pinnacle of prosperity in the first half of the reign of Louis XIV. It is interesting to note that so little was the Charter regarded as what we should to-day call a democratic document, that it does not seem to have been translated into English before the sixteenth century. Almost immediately after affixing his seal, John wrote to the Pope asking that the Charter be declared null and void. The sympathies of Innocent must have been with his friend and protege Cardinal Langton rather than with John his ex-opponent; but, as will be shown in a later chapter (pp. 272 and 274), the attitude of the Roman Church has consistently been to discountenance resistance, on the part of subjects,

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to the measures of any lawful prince, unless of course such measures be condemned by the Pope himself as Vice-Regent of God on earth. So Innocent issued (August 15, 1215) a bull to the effect that, being unwilling to dissimulate the audacity of so much malignity (tanta malignitatis audaciam dissimulare nolentes) to the grave peril of all concerns of the Crucified One (grave periculum totius negotii crucifixi), on behalf of the omnipotent God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and also with the authority of the Blessed Peter and Paul and of himself (ac nostra), he prohibited the King under threat of the papal anathema from presuming to observe the Charter (prohibentes ne ea observare praesumat) and the Barons and their allies (complicibus) from demanding its observance. The "troublers of the King and Kingdom" were afterwards declared excommunicate, and the Cardinal himself was eventually suspended from his functions for his remissness in giving effect to this sentence. It so happened that in the following year both Pope and King died, and it can hardly be said that the final victory rested with Innocent, as the Charter was eventually ratified on behalf of John's nine-year-old son (Henry III) who, after coming of age, reaffirmed his fidelity thereto. It is probably true to say that the most notable and successful work of Innocent was the suppression of the Albigenses, a name given to certain heretics of the south of France in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Exactly what were the tenets of these unhappy people is not exactly known, as such knowledge as we possess is almost exclusively derived from their adversaries (vide Appendix C, p. 298). It seems probable however that the great bulk of their number had become dissatisfied with the formalism and legalism of the Roman Church and with the avarice and corrupt morals of its priesthood. Such people, while becoming anti-sacerdotal, fully retained their Christian beliefs. (The doctrines of their inner circle, Cathari, perfecti or bonshommes, are touched on in a later section of this chapter.) Innocent at first attempted to suppress the sect by pacific means, but found that not merely the nobles but the bishops themselves tended to sympathise with the heretics. It is not clear how far the bishops actually held the same beliefs as the Albigenses, and how far they resented certain monks being appointed by the Pope as his legates to perform work which doubtless in their opinion should have been carried on by themselves. However this may be, in 1204 Innocent sus-

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pended the authority of the bishops in the south of France, and a few years subsequently declared a holy war against the Albigenses. Thereupon the nobles of northern France, allying themselves with the monks, invaded the south and dispossessed the landowners of their property, with such frightful slaughter as to make this persecution one of the most sanguinary in history. The brilliant Provencal civilisation was utterly destroyed, but it is impossible to deny that the success from the papal point of view was complete. The massacre of the Albigenses is the most outstanding exercise of the Pope's authority when the Papacy itself was at the pinnacle of its power, and it is impossible to dissociate our judgment of this incident with our conviction as to the nature of the papal office. If we believe that Popes are appointed by God to repress by fire and sword any creed other than that which they are divinely inspired to teach, it follows that Innocent acted in a wholly laudable manner: in the contrary event we are forced to regard his conduct as frankly indefensible. General Nature of Medieval Christianity

In a former chapter a few pages were devoted to a glance at the infant Church as existing shortly after the death of its founder: it is now convenient to examine cursorily the situation of the fully-organised body when at the plenitude of its power. A point which immediately claims our attention is that Christianity found itself confronted with a great rival, Mahometanism, and although the two systems differed very widely in their details, nevertheless in certain respects they were strikingly similar. Each body taught the existence of one God, and each believed itself to be the recipient of that God's special favour. Each body eagerly appealed to arms in defence of its faith: such appeals continued for centuries with indecisive results, each side calling upon God for assistance against the other, each side regarding victory as a divine answer to its own prayers and refusing to regard defeat as a divine answer to the prayers of its rival. Each body was anxious to convert the other to the true faith, and each was convinced that, although something might be done on a small scale by argument and persuasion, nevertheless wholesale bloodshed really constituted the true missionary effort. We find for example that that most eminent of Portuguese poets, Luiz de Camoes, in his magnificent description of Vasco da Gama's great expedition to India, began by glorifying the memories of those kings who dilated

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the Faith and the Empire, and who devastated the vicious lands of Africa and Asia. (As memorias gloriosas d'aquelles reis queforam dilatando a Fe, o imperio; e as terras viciosas de Africa e de Asia andaram devastando. Lusiadas i. 2.) The idea of propagating the Faith among the Mahometans and other unbelievers without an accompanying devastation of their vicious lands, would have had but small attraction for the militant Christians whom Portugal sent forth on her great maritime expeditions (vide Appendix D, p. 300). A second very notable point about medieval Christianity is the marked line of demarcation of the faithful into two classes, clerical and lay. Somewhat as the Jew looked on the Gentile as a being in whom God took far less interest than he did in the chosen race of Israel, so was the medieval layman looked on as one meriting and receiving a smaller share in the divine favour than did the ecclesiastic. Gregory VII argued that the Pope is to the Emperor as the sun is to the moon, and Innocent III similarly affirmed that the priest is as much above the king as the soul is above the body. The history of the Christian religion is largely a history of attempts to apply these theories to practice. It resulted logically from the position taken up by the Church that an ecclesiastic who commits some criminal offence ought to be tried by his hierarchical superiors and not by the secular courts. This claim led to much discussion and ill feeling. For example, when so late as 1850 the so-called privilegium fori was extinguished in Piedmont, the Archbishop of Turin prohibited his clergy from appearing before the secular tribunals or obeying their mandates, and the Archbishop's action was expressly confirmed by Pius IX. In England however the controversy was far less acute, and the law courts early came to a kind of working arrangement, tolerated by the Church, whereby the death penalty in respect of certain offences was mitigated when a cleric was the criminal. It was only in 1841 that the last relics of this practice, called "Benefit of Clergy," were abolished by statute. Another feature which claims our attention is the size, magnificence and number of the medieval churches, when contrasted with the number of laymen who might reasonably be expected to worship therein. Such relatively small towns as Bourges and Chartres possess cathedrals which would have excited our unstinted admiration even if they had been the principal churches of such cities as London and Paris. It is needless to add that the work of construction of such ambitious

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buildings was frequently interrupted, so a considerable time often elapsed between the laying of the foundation-stone and final completion. Florence and Cologne Cathedrals were both commenced in the thirteenth century and finished in the nineteenth. Many cathedral churches, especially in the smaller cities, remain unfinished; but such buildings frequently bear witness to the boldness with which the ecclesiastical authorities planned works which we should have considered wholly disproportionate to the size of the respective towns. The vaulting of the cathedral of Beauvais, a town of some 20,000 inhabitants, is over 150 feet high, about the same as that of St. Peter's at Rome, the largest and most magnificent temple in Christendom. We are not surprised to find therefore that the nave of Beauvais remains, and seems likely to remain, still unbuilt. If the nave of Siena Cathedral had been completed the building would almost have rivalled St. Paul's, London, in size, as well as far surpassing it as regards beauty. The cathedrals were the scenes of very elaborate ceremonies, of which the bulk of the laity presumably understood but little. The language used was unintelligible to the common people, and even if the vernacular had been employed the effect so far as regards the laity would have been the same, because the offices in general were either sung in such a way as to obscure the sense, or else said in a very low tone of voice. In consequence the modern traveller is not surprised to find that in many immense places of worship the floor-space from which the laity can get a view of what is going on is remarkably small. We find a certain area, called "the sanctuary," which may be regarded as the stage where the principal ceremonies are carried out; and in the immediate vicinity there is a choir where the bulk of the ecclesiastics and customarily the singers are accommodated; but in such churches as Seville and Toledo Cathedrals and Westminster Abbey we see that of the floorspace allocated to the use of the laity only quite a small portion commands a good view of the sanctuary. It is noteworthy that with the increase of the power and wealth of the clergy, their function of leading their flocks in prayer and praise tended to drop into the background, and they were regarded more and more as bedesmen, praying on behalf of the laity rather than with them. As an illustration of this tendency may be cited the fact, already referred to, that every day in the Church of Our Lady at Loreto a series of one hundred and twenty masses commenced at daybreak.

2i8 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY Assuming that the latest of the series was said in accordance with the normal custom about noon, we infer that the masses commenced at intervals averaging about four minutes. It seems clear therefore that the saying of a mass was and is regarded as something in itself agreeable to God, independently of the question as to whether a congregation can be found to take part in the service. We therefore ask ourselves exactly what is understood by the term "mass." We have already made reference to the institution by Jesus of the ceremonial custom of breaking bread, and theologians hold that this custom can be rightly regarded in two different aspects—sacramental and sacrificial. When speaking of the ceremony in its sacramental aspect, it is usual to use the word "eucharist," or perhaps more frequently "holy communion." When speaking of the ceremony in its sacrificial aspect, Roman Catholics customarily use the word "mass." With respect to the sacramental aspect we note the importance attached to a literal rather than a figurative acceptance of the words: "This is my body": "This is my blood." Hence the decree promulgated by the Council of Trent: If any one shall say that in the holy sacrament of the Eucharist there remains, together with the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, the substance of the bread and wine, and shall deny the wonderful and singular conversion of the whole substance of the bread into body and of the wine into blood, the species only of the bread and wine remaining—which conversion the Catholic Church most fittingly calls Transubstantiation—let him be anathema. Two noteworthy consequences result from the acceptance of the above doctrine of Transubstantiation. Firstly, when once the body and blood of Jesus exist under the "species" (or outward appearance) of bread and wine, it is not necessary that anyone who desires to receive the spiritual benefit of this mystery shall have been present at the moment of transsubstantiation. On the contrary, the consecrated elements can be retained for an undefined period and partaken of by the communicant according to circumstances. And further it is current doctrine that each particle of that transubstantiated element which has the species of bread becomes body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus; so it is not necessary that the communicant receive more than one of the two elements. In point of fact in the Church of Rome the communicant, other than the officiating priest, receives one element only.

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Secondly: that transubstantiated element which has the species of bread can rightly be placed in a suitable receptacle, called a "monstrance," and exhibited to the faithful, who are thus, independently of any question of actually partaking of the Lord's body, afforded an opportunity of worshipping him hidden under the appearance of bread. We have hitherto spoken of the ceremony in its sacramental aspect: it is the rite in which is believed to be effected the miracle of transubstantiation. We now come to speak of the sacrificial aspect. Paul tells us (i Cor. xi. 26) that by eating and drinking at the breaking of the bread we "show (Vulg. annuntiabitis) the Lord's death till he come." Theologians interpret the words show and annuntiabitis as implying a reoffering before God the Father of the sacrifice made by his Son on Calvary. This idea of a re-offering is especially associated with the name "mass." And as medieval doctrine further developed, the mass frequently came to be looked on not so much as a re-offering but rather as a re-enactment of the great sacrifice. As an example of how this doctrine is now presented in popular theology, an extract is subjoined from Canon Gilbert's Love of Jesus, published with the imprimatur of Cardinal Manning: "We hold that here" (i.e. at the Altar) "in a mystical manner thy body and blood are separated, and that thou art as it were again nailed to the cross, and presented to heaven as a holocaust, for the propitiation of the sins of the world. . . . Why was not one atonement, dearest Lord, one sacrifice, one Calvary sufficient? Thou knewest . . . that we should contemn thy first sacrifice, and so, dearest Lord, every day thou art sacrificed again." The doctrine above indicated forms the explanation of a point which has often raised enquiry in the minds of people outside the Roman Church. When there are a number of priests together, why do we so frequently find that each says his own mass individually? Why does not one celebrate the holy mysteries while the others join him in an act of collective worship? For example, U Illustration of August 3, 1935, gave its readers a photograph, accompanied by a descriptive article, of a young priest saying his first mass at Cambrai. Three of his brothers, all priests, were present; so three altars were placed in the choir in front of the high-altar, and the four priests said mass simultaneously, the photograph showing the elevation of the chalice by all four at the same moment. The intention was

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that by this means four separate sacrifices might be offered in the sight of God, instead of one as would have been the case if the elder priests had merely accompanied with their prayers the act of their younger brother. It is not easy to over-estimate the influence exercised by belief in the efficacy of the mass over the mentality of the medieval Christian. In later centuries there arose a school of thought which unreservedly accepted (e.g.) the miracle of the raising of Tabitha by Peter, but which rejected the miracle of the mass as a blasphemous fable (vide Art. XXXI of the Church of England). But in the belief of the medieval Christian, throughout each morning of the year the marvel of transubstantiation was taking place every minute, and Christ was continually being offered as a sacrifice before God. The fact that we are unable to perceive any physical change in the elements after consecration was and is looked on as a result of the act of God, who permits our senses to be so imperfect that this change cannot be observed. Thus in St. Thomas Aquinas's well-known hymn forming part of the office for Maunday Thursday we find the following: Verbum caro, panem verum Verbo carnem efficit: Fitque sanguis Christi merum; Et si sensus deficit, Ad firmandum cor sincerum Sola fides sufficit. (The Word-Flesh makes, by his Word, true bread to be flesh, and wine is made to be the blood of Christ; and if sense fails, faith alone is sufficient to strengthen a sincere heart.)

It was believed that on extremely rare occasions the deficiency of our senses was, as a result of a special divine favour, partially remedied. The best known example is that of the "Miracle of Bolsena." The history is to the effect that in 1263 a pious priest when saying mass at Bolsena was troubled with doubts as to the truth of the doctrine of transubstantiation, and that the consecrated host thereupon commenced to bleed to such an extent as to stain a napkin (corporale). It appears that it was on account of this miracle that in the following year Urban IV, formerly Archdeacon of Liege, made the observance of the festival of Corpus Christi (which had previously been kept, in honour of the mystery of transubstantiation, in the diocese of Liege almost exclusively) obligatory on the whole Church.

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The Pope also gave directions for the building of the present Cathedral of Orvieto, about twelve miles from Bolsena, so that the bloodstained corporate might therein be suitably lodged. This miracle forms the subject of one of Raphael's frescoes executed by order of Julius II in the Vatican about 1512. The priest is represented in the act of consecration, and the Pope, with the features of Julius II, kneels opposite. From a technical point of view this is probably Raphael's most perfect fresco. Everything which was best in the religious system of the Middle Ages was associated with the celebration of holy mass. The doctrine of transubstantiation, held even to-day by the great majority of Christians, was then almost universally accepted. To the medieval churchgoer this dogma was one not to be argued about, but to be received unreservedly with all due faith and humility. The worshipper who entered a church where the sacrifice of the mass was being offered, or where the consecrated wafer was exposed, was rarely troubled by doubts as to whether he was really in the presence of the living God, and whether One fairer than the children of men was verily manifesting himself as an object of the adoration of the faithful. So when the medieval saint lifted his thoughts towards Almighty God, he very specially associated his highest and holiest aspirations with the blessed sacrament of the altar. Modern sceptics argue that the bread and wine form at best a mere material aid to devotion. This point is now a matter of controversy, but was hardly a matter of controversy in the days of which we speak, when with practical unanimity all those who professed and called themselves Christians accepted unreservedly the doctrine set forth by the Catholic Church. But it can hardly be doubted that an intense and earnest conviction of the miracle of transubstantiation, as effected in virtue of certain supernatural powers conferred on a priest at his ordination, inclined people to believe, usually on very slight grounds, that the Deity frequently intervened in human affairs in a manner contrary to the normal processes of nature. Or perhaps it would be more correct to say that the processes of nature appeared much less uniform to the medieval theologian than they do to the twentieth century scientist. For example, few visitors to the Long Gallery at the Louvre fail to admire Murillo's exquisite masterpiece entitled La Cuisine de San Diego: a monastery cook has interrupted his work in order to pray, and angels have consequently received a divine mission to prepare the food while the cook himself remains in ecstasy.

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Now it seems likely that those very devout people who, believing the legend to be literally true, commissioned Murillo to paint this picture, based their belief on somewhat slight evidence. The idea of an angel preparing food while the cook himself is occupied in prayer appealed far more forcibly to the average Spaniard even as late as Murillo's day than it does to the present generation, accustomed as is the latter to think that the more abnormal an alleged event the greater the need for conclusive evidence before accepting it. So it will readily be inferred how unfavourable was medieval mentality to the progress of scientific observation. A man who believes that, provided he be sufficiently devout, he may very possibly find an angel to prepare his food for him, is unlikely to enter into a serious technical study of the real nature of cooking, and to enquire exactly in what way heat modifies foodstuffs and renders them more suitable for consumption. So we are not surprised to find that throughout the Middle Ages the natural sciences were relatively little esteemed, and it can hardly be doubted that progress in hygiene and medicine was greatly impeded by the widespread belief that illness is normally a punishment for sin rather than the direct result of physical causes. Hence terrible plagues resulted from the generally insanitary condition of the houses. It is estimated for example that the Black Death in the middle of the fourteenth century carried off a third of the population of England. ROGER BACON (c. 1214-^. 1294), the greatest and most original thinker of his age, urged in vain that knowledge of the working of nature should be sought empirically by actual experiment. The first result of Bacon's efforts was that he was placed under supervision, and prevented for ten years from doing any writing for publication. Pope Clement IV who had heard of his misfortunes then very wisely intervened, and Bacon was permitted to commit his theories to writing, but with the unfortunate result that he was kept in prison for a further term of fourteen years. The intellectual stagnation of the Middle Ages was probably intensified by the celibacy of the clergy. The wealth and power enjoyed by the higher ecclesiastics were such as to form a great attraction to young men of exceptional mental ability. Such men, however, when once vowed to the religious life, were unable to bring up legitimate children to have a chance of inheriting their fathers' talents. This seems to be one of the various reasons whereby it came about that during the Middle

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Ages institutional Christianity, while attaining a maximum of secular power, simultaneously showed such obvious signs of moral and intellectual decadence. Those who dispute the fact of this decadence call attention to the magnificence of the ecclesiastical buildings which form so prominent a feature of the period. It is however easy to understand why such great importance should have been attached to sacred architecture among medieval Christians. Undoubtedly a genuine feeling of piety played a highly important share in the planning and construction of their places of worship, but it seems probable that a desire to impress the laity with the power, wealth and authority of the clergy also formed a prominent factor. (A confirmation of this inference may be found in the fact that, contrary to the custom of the Mahometans, in the very elaborate ceremonies which take place in Catholic places of worship, a considerable part of the ritual consists of expressions of respect, sometimes thought by outsiders to be a little exaggerated, paid to the principal officiant.) It seems moreover likely that rivalry between the regular clergy (monks and friars) and the secular (bishops and parish priests) was largely instrumental in bringing about the extraordinary magnificence of the churches of the Middle Ages. On the whole it was the bishops and their clergy who found themselves enabled to put up the more ambitious buildings, although there are several striking instances to the contrary. The Franciscan Church of the Frari at Venice is far more sumptuous than the former Cathedral of S. Pietro di Castello.1 And similarly at Padua the Cathedral, which is unfinished, is completely outshone by the Franciscan Church dedicated to St. Anthony, just as in Rio de Janeiro the Cathedral is outshone by the Church of the Candelaria Brotherhood. Philosophy

The medieval ecclesiastics not merely took considerable interest in philosophy, but some of their writers made very real advances in that science. Later generations arose to whom the terminology used by these writers was unfamiliar, and such generations found it easier to ridicule the so-called scholastic philosophy than to understand it. Thus it came about that the name of one of the most eminent of the thirteenth-century writers, Duns 1 In 1807, on the initiative of Napoleon, the Patriarch's seat was removed from S. Pietro di Castello to the Church of S. Mark, which is now used as the Cathedral.

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(surnamed Scotus) came eventually to mean "a backward pupil." But we in our own day may well feel admiration for the acuteness of intellect with which many of the schoolmen attempted to solve the fundamental problems which confront humanity. It was of course inevitable that freedom of thought and of discussion, whenever permitted, should produce occasional deviation from orthodoxy. PIERRE ABELARD (1079-1142) is particularly noteworthy as having had the courage to maintain that "a doctrine is believed, not because God has enunciated it, but because we are convinced by reason that it is true." We are not surprised to find therefore that Abelard's spirit of free enquiry led him to a view of the nature of the Blessed Trinity closely allied to that of Sabellius (vide p. 128), and Abelard was consequently condemned at the Councils of Soissons and Sens. So he fell into disrepute, and it has indeed come about that whereas in his early manhood his exceptional mental gifts received extraordinary appreciation, and he may be fairly said to have fixed more than any other teacher the scholastic manner of philosophising, later generations remember him almost entirely on account of a very unfortunate love affair. Of the thousands of people who yearly visit his tomb in the Pere Lachaise Cemetery, probably not one in a hundred has ever read a line of his writings, excepting possibly in the popular hymn commencing 0 quanta qualia sunt ilia Sabbata ("O what their joy and their glory must be, those endless Sabbaths the blessed ones see"). No other scholastic writer, of ability approaching to that of Abelard, permitted himself similar independence of thought, and some little time after Abelard's death orthodox philosophy received a powerful stimulus from an outside source. It happened that an Arab writer, Abul Walid of Cordoba, commonly referred to as AVERROES (1126-1198), did some excellent work in his Commentaries on Aristotle, and the Commentaries, in a Latin translation, practically introduced the system of the Stagirite to Christian scholars in the West. Scholastic writers had all along seen, as Augustine had seen nine or ten centuries previously, the difficulty of reconciling the principles of Plato with those of traditional Christianity. Hence the teachings of a rival philosopher were eagerly welcomed, and Christian thought, among the more intellectual of the scholastic writers, came to be a blend of Aristotelian principles with Catholic dogma. Of these writers by far the most prominent is ST. THOMAS (c. 1226-1274), a Dominican

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friar, born near Aquino in Campania, whose Summa has consistently commanded great authority among Catholics. The Dominican adopted the fundamental principle that human knowledge has two foundations, faith and reason; the former causes us to accept divine revelation, and the latter enables us both to acquire knowledge as to the visible universe and to judge of such theological points as revelation leaves undecided. St. Thomas held that faith and reason do not clash, but nevertheless that the truths we acquire as a result of revelation are more important than those which we acquire through reason. In 1567 St. Thomas was formally ranked with the other four great Latin Doctors of the Church—Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome and Gregory, and he is specially designated as "Angelic." Leo XIII directed the clergy (August 4, 1879) to take the teachings of St. Thomas as the basis of their theological position. He was indeed a man of vast learning and of extraordinary power of synthesis; and even a hostile critic could hardly deny that he performed admirably his task of blending into a harmonious whole Aristotelian philosophy with Roman theology. But on the other hand it would appear that by insisting on the importance of revelation as compared with reason, he merely shelved difficulties without attempting to solve them; so he, like so many other theological writers, may be not unfairly accused of having based his works on a petitio principii. On the matter of persecution of heretics St. Thomas enunciates principles (Summa ii. 9, n) concerning which the most charitable thing that can be said is that the writer was in no way in advance of his age. The name of St. Thomas has further become prominent in connection with the controversy anent the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. A doctrine was preached by the Franciscan friars, and especially by Duns Scotus, that the Mother of Jesus was born free of original sin. St. Thomas and the Dominicans in general however opposed this teaching on the ground that Paul tells us that Jesus gave himself as a ransom for all (i Tim. ii. 6), including presumably the Blessed Virgin. They argued not unreasonably that if she had not inherited original sin she could not have been ransomed therefrom. This controversy was not settled till 1854 when Pius IX published a decree formally imposing on the faithful belief in the Franciscan teaching. So notwithstanding the p

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extraordinary honour paid to the writings of the Angelic Doctor, the fact remains that they contain matter which if written since 1854 would have entailed their author in condemnation as a heretic. An important matter on which medieval doctrine was at variance with modern practice is the lending of money at interest (or "usury," to adopt the old-fashioned term). We know that the Jews, while still a very primitive people, formed the conclusion that usury was immoral when the borrower was a fellow Jew, but not otherwise (Deut. xxiii. 19, 20). The reason of this prejudice is easy to understand. In a primitive community well-to-do people rarely borrow money as a commercial speculation, and applicants for loans are almost always impecunious and often insolvent. And it is evident that the habitual lending of money to needy borrowers without tangible security cannot be carried on without ultimate loss to the lender unless he secures himself by charging a rate of interest which is highly onerous on the borrowers. It was presumably in view of such considerations as the foregoing that the Church prohibited usury altogether, independently of the question whether the rate of interest was high or low. The Mahometans of our own day still refuse, in principle at all events, to permit the practice. But as mercantile transactions came to be more extensively developed, and became better organised, an entirely different class of borrowing was found desirable. Merchants enjoying good credit were desirous of obtaining loans for their legitimate commercial speculations, and were able to offer rates of interest which, without being onerous on the borrowers, were attractive to lenders. To such transactions there could be no objection on moral grounds, and it was on that account that in course of time the Church's prohibition was modified, although the prejudice against usury is still strong in Roman Catholic countries. In France for example banking operations remain largely in the hands of Protestants and Jews, most but perhaps not all of whom carry on worthily the traditions of their honourable calling. It may also be not out of place to refer to the daily press of those not unnumerous Latin-American countries which are in default to their foreign creditors: the reader will notice how lofty a moral tone is taken by the native journalist when he extols on the one hand the dignified and patriotic attitude of his country's government in dishonouring

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its obligations, and condemns on the other the contemptible greed of the vulgar usurer who asks for payment of his bond. It now seems desirable to say something about that extreme cruelty which appears to many people to be the most conspicuous feature of medieval ecclesiastical administration. In considering this question it seems right to point out as a preliminary that we have no real proof that this cruelty was so very exceptional. We read for example that on a certain day in 1245 two hundred heretics were burnt at Montsegur. This fact is of course very shocking, but we ought to remember that while we possess information as to what was going on in Montsegur in 1245, we do not know accurately what was being done in that year in Senegal or in Borneo or in many other parts of the world; and it is quite conceivable that other atrocities equally revolting but which had nothing to do with Christianity were in fact then committed. Leaving however this point aside, it is easy to see why and how institutional Christianity became closely associated with extreme cruelty. Like other governing classes the medieval ecclesiastics aimed at wealth and authority, and it was only to a relatively small extent that they were able to attain their ends by the direct use of military power. They were forced to rely on their hold on the minds of men, and they in consequence represented themselves as the possessors of a mysterious power which gave them the keys of heaven and hell, and which caused men who died on good terms with the Church to obtain in the next world a reward far exceeding all possible merit, while those who failed in this condition were doomed to an eternity of the most frightful suffering. In other words the ecclesiastics found it to be in their interest to represent the Deity himself as intensely cruel, and this doctrine inevitably reacted on their own mentality. If we accept the traditional teaching as to eternal punishment, it is reasonable to infer that it is a small matter to burn a few hundred heretics, because such chastisement is merely a comparatively insignificant preliminary to the eternity of torment which awaits them hereafter. So we find that under the influence of traditional Christianity men developed morally in two directions simultaneously. A certain standard of genuine Christian morality was customarily taught, and many individuals were in fact able by God's help to raise themselves to exalted spiritual levels. But at the same time the training which was universal in their day caused even the best of ecclesiastics

228 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY to subordinate the teaching of the Gospels to what was held to be the interest of the Church. In consequence the history of the development of Christianity is for many centuries the history of the opposition between two different standards of morality—that of Jesus and that of the Church. Centuries before the commencement of our era, Micah (vi. 8) had asked What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God? And it was on the basis of the teaching implied in this question that Jesus founded his community. But the qualities of justice, mercy and humility could have but little place in a system which aimed primarily at the complete subjection of the laity to the clergy, and which, in pursuance of that aim, suppressed most ruthlessly all independent thought. So the student must be prepared to find that while the Christian virtues undoubtedly continued to exist, their exercise was unhappily subordinated to that terrible cruelty and injustice which form the key-notes of medieval Christianity. As an example of the opposition between the two standards of conduct, the following incident may be related: Early in this year (1569) . . . a poor Anabaptist, guilty of no crime but his fellowship with a persecuted sect, had been condemned to death. He had made his escape, closely pursued by an officer of justice, across a frozen lake. It was late in the winter and the ice had become unsound. It trembled and cracked beneath his footsteps, but he reached the shore in safety. The officer was not so fortunate. The ice gave way beneath him and he sank into the lake, uttering a cry for succour. There was none to hear him except the fugitive whom he had been hunting. Dirk Willemzoon, for so was the Anabaptist called, instinctively obeying the dictates of a generous nature, returned, crossed the quaking and dangerous ice at the peril of his life, extended his hand to his enemy, and saved him from certain death. Unfortunately for human nature, it cannot be added that the generosity of the action was met by a corresponding heroism. The officer was desirous, it is true, of avoiding the responsibility of sacrificing the preserver of his life, but the Burgomaster of Aspern sternly reminded him to remember his oath. He accordingly arrested the fugitive who, on the i6th of May following, was burned to death under the most lingering tortures. (Gerard Brandt, Hist, der Reformatie.) Quoted in Motley's History of the Rise of the Dutch Republic.

The foregoing forms an excellent illustration of the state of morality. We find that the officer of justice was by no means

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destitute of the Christian feelings of mercy and gratitude. But such feelings were strictly subordinated to what he believed to be his duty, which was of course to assist in putting down all divergence from traditional Christianity by any means however atrocious. Something has now been said about the triumph of institutional Christianity under Innocent III and other Pontiffs. It is in consequence convenient to give attention to the various difficulties which the Holy See encountered in attaining its maximum of power, and which eventually caused this power to decline. These difficulties can be mentioned under the heads of (a) Mahometanism; (b) Decentralisation, and the tendency to demand independence, total or partial, for local churches; (c) Protestantism, although this name was only invented long after the death of Innocent; (d) Liberal theology, sometimes tending to scepticism; and (e) Mysticism. (a) Mahometanism

The relationships between Christianity and Mahometanism in Western Europe and in North Africa can now be very rapidly indicated. It has already been stated that in 732 the Moslem troops suffered a serious reverse near Poitiers. The effect of this reverse on the progress of civilisation has, as might indeed have been expected, been diversely appreciated by adherents of different schools of thought. Dr. Arnold (The Later Roman Commonwealth) seems to give to the Battle of Poitiers the first place "amongst those signal deliverances which have affected for centuries the happiness of mankind." And Schlegel (Philosophy of History) speaks of how "the arms of Charles Martel saved and delivered the Christian nations of the West from the deadly grasp of all-destroying Islam." On the other hand Anatole France in one of his books of personal reminiscences (La Vie en Fleur) tells us of a friend who used to argue that 732 was the most disastrous (funeste) date in history, because at the battle of Poitiers "Arab science, art and civilisation were driven back before Prankish barbarity." But however this may be, it is clear that 732 must be looked on as the high-water mark of Arab expansion in Western Europe, though on the other hand the final expulsion of the invaders from Gaul only took place considerably later. When Charles Martel died, nine years after his great victory, he left the Arabs in possession of Septimania (South-Eastern Gaul) whence they were expelled by his son

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Pippin. But about 884 they again came northwards and succeeded in firmly establishing themselves in Provence, where they maintained a footing for nearly a century, being finally dislodged only in 973. South of the Pyrenees we find that the relationship between partisans of the rival creeds long remained one of almost constant hostility, the fortunes of war tending sometimes in one direction and sometimes in the other, the general advantage however lying with the Christians. We read of a cultured and pleasure-loving people, interested in science, philosophy and the liberal arts, seeking to maintain its hold on the most agreeable and fertile parts of the Iberian Peninsula, and being dislodged, province by province, by sterner, hardier and less refined warrior races. Moslem rule disappeared from Spain in 1492; and North Africa subsequently became the battlefield between the contending creeds. The year 1578 may be said to form a high-water mark of Christian expansion in Africa, because in that year a formidable Portuguese army, led by King Sebasti^o in person, took the field against the Arabs in Morocco, and was totally defeated at Alcacer Kebir, the King himself presumably being amongst the slain. After this great defeat we do not seem to hear of any military operations on a really first-class scale against the North African Mahometans until more than two centuries subsequently, when Napoleon obtained a temporary footing in Egypt. And genuine permanent conquest of considerable tracts of territory, leaving aside the holding of seaports such as Ceuta and Mazagan, was only begun in North Africa in 1830 when, during the last few weeks of the reign of Charles X, the French captured Algiers. Relationships during the Middle Ages between Christians and Moslems in the East are of even greater importance to the historian. Charlemagne, after his coronation in 800, cultivated amicable relationships with the Sultan of Bhagdad, Haroun al Raschid, who showed himself fully as urbane a monarch as the Thousand and One Nights would lead us to expect. Haroun recognised Charlemagne as "Protector of Jerusalem," and the Prankish Emperor there founded a hospital and a library. But a quarter of a century afterwards we find the Arabs commencing the conquest of Sicily; and some years subsequently they attacked the mainland of Italy, and Pope Leo IV took the very significant and far-reaching step of promising (848) a sure and certain hope of salvation to those who died combating in defence of Christianity. Somewhat more than two centuries subsequently

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Gregory VII assembled an expedition for the sake of capturing Asia Minor from the Mahometans and restoring this territory to the Eastern Emperors, in return for which benefits the Oriental Churches would, it was hoped, make their submission to the Roman See. This expedition came to nothing, but some twenty years afterwards (1095) Urban II journeyed to Clermont-Ferrand in Auvergne, where he convened a Council at which he urged primarily the need for the recovery of the holy places of Christianity, and secondly the advisability of helping the Eastern Empire in its struggle with the Moslem infidels. He called for a truce to all quarrels among the nations of Western Europe, and urged the equipment of an expedition which should set forth to Palestine with the promise that participation therein should be considered as full and complete penance for sin. It is noteworthy that Urban should have gone to France to launch this appeal. Less than thirty years previously Pope Alexander II, presumably under the influence of Hildebrand, had given his blessing to a great piratical raid which had taken place from Normandy against England, and the success of this expedition had exceeded all expectations (1066). Hundreds of the adventurers who had followed Duke William to Pevensey had attained, at the cost of possibly a few hours' sea-sickness and of participation in a single pitched battle, wealth and prosperity ever since. The younger generation of those who listened to Urban's address at Clermont-Ferrand were probably therefore the sons of men who had either taken part in the conquest of England, or who had passed their lives regretting that they had not done so. And further, when we consider the motives underlying the actions of the French and Norman nobles, we should not forget the fact that the right of primogeniture, as adopted by French law, left the younger brothers of the feudal lords with practically no choice of a profession other than the military or the clerical. Hence their readiness to take part in any operation which offered a fair prospect of profitable fighting. So it will eventually be seen that, while we should not under-estimate either the genuine religious zeal of many of the Crusaders, nor the powerful assistance rendered by the Genoese and Venetian merchant-adventurers who were anxious to establish trading stations in the Levant, yet the military success of Urban's expedition was principally due to the French (and especially the Norman) adventurers who sailed to the Holy Land with the same efficient organisation

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as their fellow-countrymen possessed when they embarked on the conquests of England and of the two Sicilies. In the summer of 1096 large but unorganised bands of men began to move eastwards. Some ten thousand Jews were massacred in the Rhine Valley, but no military result was attained. Less than half of those who set out reached Constantinople, and those who crossed the Bosphorus seem to have perished almost to a man. The most celebrated of the leaders of this expedition. Peter the Hermit, a priest from Amiens, was one of the few survivors. On the other hand, what may be considered as the officially organised expedition, headed by Bishop Adhemar, the papal commissary, assembled at Constantinople in the spring of 1097, and set out thence for Palestine. Two years later the Holy City fell, after frightful slaughter, into the hands of the Crusaders, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem was established. This brilliant victory occasioned great rejoicing throughout Christendom, and the prestige of the Papacy was very naturally and justifiably enhanced. But unfortunately the qualities necessary to take a city by storm are widely different from those necessary to impose permanently an alien rule on a conquered people. And the difficulties of the new rulers of Jerusalem were added to by a stream of fresh adventurers who continued to arrive, attracted as they were by the glowing reports which reached Europe with respect to the wealth and luxury acquired by the victorious Crusaders. These newcomers were naturally hostile to any kind of truce with the infidel; like the Portuguese of a later age of whom Camoes wrote, what they wanted was to "dilate the faith" and to "devastate the vicious lands" of the unbeliever. So amicable relationships with neighbouring chieftains were found impossible and a permanent state of hostility prevailed. Less than half a century after the founding of the new kingdom, Edessa (the modern Urfa) was re-taken by the Saracens, and Pope Eugenius III thought it necessary to proclaim a new Crusade, commissioning St. Bernard to preach on its behalf. Louis VII of France and Conrad III of Germany took the vow, but the expedition was a disastrous failure, and few people can have been surprised when in 1187 Jerusalem in its turn fell to the Moslem. In consequence of this severe blow, as it was deemed, to the Christian faith, we find the three chief temporal monarchs of Christendom—Richard of England, Philip Augustus of France and Frederick I of Germany—taking part in the next expedition (i 189-1192). Though

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this effort resulted in by no means as complete a failure as the last, nevertheless its measure of success was but small. It is interesting to notice in this connection how the ideals of a Holy War were now assuming a secondary place. Richard gravely suggested to Saladin that the former's sister should marry the latter's brother. In the reign of Innocent III, who was the Pope who most consistently preached the duty of reconquering Jerusalem, the actual crusading effort was, as has already been noticed, chiefly utilised in sacking Constantinople, though in Innocent's time there were some very painful incidents styled "Children's Crusades." In France and Germany tens of thousands of young boys, possessed with religious fervour but lacking proper equipment and provisions, set out to march to Palestine and perished miserably in various ways. In 1228 the Emperor Frederick II conducted a Crusade of his own under somewhat singular circumstances. He had taken the vow more than ten years previously, but had for one reason or other postponed his departure. The Pope consequently excommunicated him, invaded his dominions and levied a tithe from Christian Churches to pay for the expenses of this operation. Frederick nevertheless sailed for the Holy Land, and by diplomatically taking advantage of disputes among the Mahometans was able to obtain, without any fighting, possession of Jerusalem, Nazareth and Bethlehem. So having crowned himself King of Jerusalem (as he could find no cleric to perform the ceremony) Frederick sailed back to Europe to reconquer his own possessions and to make peace with the Pope. Jerusalem was in Christian hands from 1229 till 1244, and in Moslem hands from 1244 until the Great War. Acre, the last Christian stronghold in Syria, fell to Sultan Khalil in 1291, and the Crusades, in the sense in which the word is generally used, came to an end. The effect of the Crusades on Christianity in general, and especially on the prestige of the Papacy, has often been discussed. Certain benefits undoubtedly resulted to Western civilisation through its contact with the learning and the culture of the East. But these benefits are small when compared with the frightful sacrifice of human life and the economic waste entailed in these ill-fated expeditions. The papal power however was undoubtedly increased by the success of 1099. On the other hand it is reasonable to suppose that subsequent disasters, and the success of the excommunicated Emperor Frederick II, had a contrary effect.

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The Turks, who in their turn became the attackers, were successful in crushing Serbia and Bulgaria towards the end of the fourteenth century. In 1453 they took Constantinople, a victory which had far-reaching results on Western culture, because Greek-speaking refugees carried Greek manuscripts into the various centres of Occidental learning, and consequently popularised the study of the Hellenic classical authors. In 1526 a great part of Hungary passed into Turkish possession, and by 1571 the Ottoman power had become such that it seemed as if all Europe was in danger. But a naval battle which took place iji that year near the entrance to the Gulf of Lepanto proved a decisive check to the Oriental invaders' sea power. On land they continued to meet with a considerable measure of success, and we find that Samuel Pepys thought it worth while to note in his diary under date of December 31, 1663: "The Turk very far entered into Germany, and all that part of the world at a loss what to expect from his proceedings." But the Ottoman armies subsequently met with a series of defeats at the hands of King John Sobieski of Poland; and after the relief of Vienna (September 12, 1683) the Moslem power definitely declined. A very rapid summary has now been given of the relationships between Mahometanism and Christianity. The great struggle which took place during so many years is represented in much Christian literature as being one between truth and falsehood, between good and evil, between light and darkness. Thus Camoes in the great poem to which reference has already been made, stimulates the enthusiasm of the Portuguese reigning monarch Dom Sebastiao by expressing his hope that the King will become the "yoke and bane of the ignoble Ishmaelitish cavalier" (Yds que esperamos jugo e vituperio do torpe ismaelita cavalkeiro. Lusiadas i. 8). Now we know that it was the ignoble Ishmaelitish cavalier who finally proved himself to be the yoke and bane of Dom Sebastiao, who, as we have already seen, lost his throne and presumably his life at Alcacer Kebir. And we cannot but lament the fact that so many millions of human beings, throughout so lengthy a period, should have consistently refused to recognise the common fatherhood of God, and should have expended so much energy and treasure in iniquitous and fruitless warfare. Where lay the greater share of the blame it is exceedingly difficult to say, as historians on both sides have adulterated facts to meet their purposes. But as regards material civilisation there seems no doubt that

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during what are called the dark ages the Moslems, in some countries at all events, were far ahead of the Christians. Mr. Joseph McCabe (The Splendour of Moorish Spain) tells us: In the tenth century there was not anywhere in Europe, outside Arab Spain and Sicily, and there would not be for at least two centuries, a single city with 30,000 people, with even the most rudimentary sewerage, with any paved or lamp-lit streets, with a communal supply of pure water, with an elementary regard for hygiene, with a single public bath (and few if any private baths) or school. . . . In the tenth century Cordova had a population of 1,000,000 souls, a lavish supply of pure water and miles of well-paved and lamp-lit streets. . . . It took 5,000 mills along the river to grind the corn for the workers of Cordova. Nine hundred public baths met their passion for cleanliness, and six hundred mosques (Ballesteros admits the larger number of 3,000), each with a school attached, served their devotion. To the foregoing it may very plausibly be objected that whatever may have been the extent of the achievements of the Hispano-Moslems in other directions, their buildings as a whole seem to compare unfavourably with those produced a few centuries later by the great Christian ecclesiastical architects. The reply would appear to be that the Spaniards either destroyed or disfigured so much of the Moslem handiwork that any true comparison has become exceedingly difficult. However, there are two notable buildings which may not unfairly be contrasted one with another—the Minaret (now called La Giralda) of the Great Mosque at Seville and the Campanile at Pisa. The former was begun in 1184 and took twelve years to construct; the latter was commenced a little earlier (1174) and was only finished in 1350. Now even if we overlook the initial error of building the Pisa Campanile on insecure foundations, thereby giving it its well-known inclination, we still feel that the artistic sense of the architect was far behind that of his Moslem rival at Seville. What was formerly the Great Mosque at Cordoba occupies a walled-in area approximately as great as that of St. Peter's at Rome, but this comparison is unfair to the latter building, seeing that about a third of the Mosque consists of an unroofed court-yard (Patio de los Naranjos). On the other hand, if we to-day walk through what remains of the aisles at Cordoba, we still find sufficient traces of former magnificence to lead to the conclusion that for genuine artistic feeling the architects

236 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY of the Mahometan building were by no means unworthy of comparison with those who some centuries later constructed and adorned the great Basilica on the Vatican Hill. (b) Decentralisation, and the Tendency to Form National Churches Non-Roman writers have not infrequently pointed out with perfect propriety the debt which Western civilisation in general, and Latin Christianity in particular, owes to the early medieval Papacy for having formed a bulwark against the general anarchy of its time. Thus Dean Milman, an eminent Church of England divine (1791-1868), tells us: The Papacy . . . was the only power which lay not entirely and absolutely prostrate before the disasters of the times. . . < It was this power which was most imperatively required to preserve all that was to survive out of the crumbling wreck of Roman civilisation. To Western Christianity was absolutely necessary a centre, standing alone, strong in traditionary reverence, and in acknowledged claims to supremacy. . . . On the rise of a power, both controlling and conservative, hung, humanly speaking, the life and death of Christianity—of Christianity as a permanent, aggressive, expansive and to a certain extent uniform system. There must be a counterbalance to barbaric force, to the unavoidable anarchy of Teutonism, with its tribal, or at the utmost national independence, forming a host of small, conflicting, antagonistic kingdoms (History of Latin Christianity).

Now it is evident that any institution exercising the authority above indicated must necessarily incur considerable unpopularity. The Papacy felt it to be both lawful and expedient to repress heresy ruthlessly, the word "heresy" being interpreted in an even more elastic manner than "treason" in the times of the Tudor sovereigns. And if we examine many of the papal measures taken in repression of heresy, we notice not merely that they seem severe, but that they are of a nature to excite considerable resentment among many of those whose opinions are wholly orthodox. Two of the best known papal bulls dealing with heresy are the Cum ex apostolatus officio and the In c&na Domini, concerning which a few details may be found interesting. The former of these bulls was promulgated by Paul IV in 1558 and was expressly stated to be a piece of permanent legislation, effected "in the plenitude of the apostolic jurisdiction." The Pope, as vice-regent of God and of our Lord Jesus

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Christ (qui Dei et Domini nostri Jesu Christi vices gerit in terris), therein claimed absolute authority over all princes and peoples: he enacted that should any rulers of any kind, spiritual or temporal, become heretical or schismatical they should ipso facto be deposed and condemned to death, but in case of repentance they should be imprisoned for life: further, that any prince who should grant any shelter or assistance to any heretical or schismatical ruler should also be deposed: further that if any bishop held privately any heretical opinions which only became public subsequently, the bishop's acts during the time he held such opinions were null and void. The faithful were enjoined not to oppose the bull in question under penalty of incurring the indignation of Almighty God and of the Apostles St. Peter and St. Paul. The bull In c&na Domini actually dates from 1568, but is a kind of codification of older decrees. For two centuries this bull was read publicly at Rome on Thursday in Holy Week, the custom being that the Pope, when the reading was finished, cast a lighted torch into the Piazza di San Pietro as a token of the anathema incurred by those who contravene its terms. The bull anathematises all heretics, and those princes and magistrates who permit heretics to live unmolested in their territory: also all those who read or possess heretical books: also all those who appeal from any papal decision to any future Council: also such lay judges, officers of the secular courts and executioners as may attempt to render ecclesiastics subject to lay jurisdiction. Such anathema when incurred can only be removed, except in articulo mortis, by the Pope himself. Now it is quite clear that the provisions of these decrees must inevitably have caused considerable resentment among even the most orthodox of the faithful. In France in 1580 the Parlement ordered that any bishop who published the bull In ccena Domini should be considered guilty of high treason, and that his estate should be confiscated. The King of Spain and the Viceroy of Naples both refused to allow the bull to be published in their territories. The Emperor Rudolph II similarly protested against its publication in Germany. But it was in Venice that the controversy actually became most acute (1605-1607). The Republic had convicted and imprisoned two clerics for criminal offences, and moreover had asserted its right to impose taxes on ecclesiastical property. After admonition a bull of interdict and excommunication was issued by the Pope. But the secular clergy remained faithful to the

238 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY Republic: some of the regular clergy who advocated submission to the Holy See were expelled: the Spanish army on which the Pope had apparently been relying finally decided not to attack, and the interdict remained almost a dead letter. There seems no doubt that the Venetians had in general no thought of leaving the Roman Church to become Protestant. It would indeed appear that their principal technical adviser throughout this controversy. Friar Paolo Sarpi, had certain mild leanings towards Protestantism, but the great bulk of the Venetians were wholly loyal to Catholicism: what they wanted was that the Pope should be a constitutional, and not an absolute sovereign. Eventually both sides agreed to accept the services, as mediator, of Henri IV of France. The Venetians, without going back on their general principles, agreed to surrender, as an exceptional act, the two clerical criminals to the French ambassador; and the Pope gave it to be understood that the interdict, while not formally withdrawn, would be practically disregarded. The victory clearly rested with the Venetians, who continued to exercise jurisdiction over clerical offenders and to impose taxes on ecclesiastical property. In treating of the Papacy as a great unifying and consolidating power, attention is naturally directed to canon law, which long formed a kind of code common to the Christian nations of the West. This code dealt not merely with purely ecclesiastical matters, but also with marriage and kindred subjects. Now the advantage of the existence of a uniform system of jurisprudence, current throughout Western Christendom, is very obvious. A single illustration will show the practical disadvantage of lack of uniformity. George IV of England went through a ceremony of marriage with both Mrs. Maria Fitzherbert and Princess Caroline of Brunswick. He cohabited firstly with the former, then with the latter, then again with the former. All parties agree that he lived with one of the two ladies in holy matrimony, and with the other in sin. But opinions differ as to which was which. Those who hold that English statute law is valid in English matrimonial cases regard the marriage with Princess Caroline as alone lawful: those who hold the supremacy of the (Roman) can on law take a contrary opinion. It is unnecessary in this place to say anything about the merits of this matter: the point which it is desired to make is merely that it is undesirable that such cases should be possible. But appreciation of the advantages of a uniform code should

CHRISTIANITY AS AN INSTITUTION 239 not blind us to certain disadvantages which resulted from considering Rome as an ultimate court of appeal from the decisions of local authorities. One result seems to have been that the pecuniary advantages of the practice of ecclesiastical law were such that at Rome theology tended to be dropped into the background, while the more intelligent members of the clergy devoted their attention to jurisprudence. A certain discontent inevitably ensued in the less favoured countries, where litigants were obliged to pay in fees to Roman officials and legal practitioners sums of money which in their opinion might quite well have remained at home. Thus Voltaire (Pot Pourri XIII) makes the calculation that in his day in France every year about forty uncles were married to their respective nieces, and about two hundred pairs of cousins were also married. He assesses the fees payable at Rome as 80,000 livres in each of the former cases and 18,000 livres in each of the latter, making the important sum of 6,800,000 livres going yearly out of the country on this score alone. In England in 1353 the improper carrying of any legal process before a foreign court of justice (Rome was aimed at but not mentioned) was made punishable by loss of all civil rights and imprisonment. Subsequent legislation extended the scope of this statute. To understand the origin of the legislation above referred to, it is desirable to remember the events of the reign of John, which events cannot have failed to leave a profound sense of injury in the minds of the English people. It is of course quite possible for apologists to argue that the Pope was wholly in the right, but the point which it is here desired to make is that the English people must inevitably have resented the treatment they experienced; and hence they, without any desire towards schism, necessarily welcomed any affirmation of the principle that the Pope is a constitutional and not an absolute monarch. Proof of this is seen in such legislation as the statute of 1306 which prohibited the proceeds of any tax imposed by any religious person being sent out of the country, and the statute of 1350 which, after premising that the Pope had acted "as if he had been patron" of English benefices "as he was not of right by the laws of England," enacted that election to all dignities and benefices should be free, "as they were granted by the King's progenitors." Matters came to a head in the first half of the sixteenth century. The English throne was at the time occupied by Henry VIII, a cruel, vicious and tyrannical monarch, but

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nevertheless a man of considerable intellectual ability and an earnest student of theology, so much so that Pope Leo X had granted him the title "Defender of the Faith." Henry's matrimonial affairs have proved themselves to be of such importance in English history, and have been the subject of so much discussion, that it is extraordinarily difficult to write thereon with impartiality. It seems however fair to say that when he was some thirty-five years of age he found that his health was bad; his wife had given him one daughter, Mary, and was unlikely to have further children; and he had a very earnest desire to have a male heir to whom he might leave his crown. There was at the time no precedent for a queen ruling in her own right over England1 (or indeed over France), and Henry not unreasonably believed that the likelihood of Mary's claims being disputed was increased by the fact that his union was of an illegal nature (he had married under formal protest his brother's widow), such union being condemned in Lev. xviii. 16, and having been made possible only by a papal dispensation, the validity of which was questioned. Henry, presumably taking advantage of a moment when relationships between Pope Clement VII and the Emperor Carlos V (the nephew of Henry's Queen, Catalina) were specially strained, applied to the former for a declaration of nullity of his marriage. Thereupon there commenced a controversy centering round the question whether the King's deceased brother had ever had actual marital relationships with his wife. The delicacy of proving such a matter is obvious. Those who upheld the cause of the Queen pointed out the tender years of her first husband, but Francis Bacon (History of Henry VII) replies: "The Prince was upon the point of sixteen years of age when he died, and forward, and able in body." The impression left in the mind of a reader who follows this controversy is likely to be that Henry had no moral right to claim, after many years of conjugal life, that his marriage was void. On the other hand the King's conduct is quite comprehensible in view of the facility with which the Roman ecclesiastical authorities customarily granted declarations of nullity (vide p. 252 infra). That is to say, that while such declarations are in general open to grave objection, the case 1 The case of Mathilda, daughter of Henry I, hardly constitutes an exception to the above. Although it is true that she was crowned in 1141, her so-called reign is more properly regarded as a (finally) unsuccessful attempt to deprive Stephen of the throne.

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on behalf of Henry VIII was a particularly strong one. His critics have created a prejudice against him by representing him as so infatuated with Anne Boleyn that he desired to raise her to the throne at any cost. But the evidence points the other way. While no one would regard Henry as a moral man in the Victorian sense of the term, nevertheless in this particular instance what Henry seems to have wanted was a male heir. It appears probable that Clement at the commencement of negotiations really favoured Henry's cause, but that he altered his attitude when subsequent events brought about a rapprochement with the Emperor. In any event it is clear that if the Pope did not wish to annul the marriage he had every reason to try to gain time, because if Henry defied him, as eventually turned out to be the case, his only recourse was to excommunicate Henry and to absolve his subjects from their allegiance. Now obviously the Pope cannot conceivably have desired to excommunicate the King unless he felt that he could rely on some Catholic power—the Empire being of course indicated by medieval tradition and by circumstances generally—to invade England in order to make the sentence effective. So negotiations were protracted till Henry lost patience and caused Parliament to enact the Statute of Appeals, strongly emphasising the conception of the Church of England as a national body, ruled over by the King, and not as merely the English branch of a body ruled over by the Pope. About the same time Henry asked the Archbishop of Canterbury to declare in his archiepiscopal court the invalidity of the marriage with Catalina (1533). When this was done, the fact of Henry's recent marriage with Anne Boleyn was made public. The Pope was now led to believe that the Emperor Carlos would be prepared within four months to invade England and to depose Henry. Consequently definite judgment was given: the marriage with Catalina was declared valid, and Henry was enjoined to respect it under penalty of excommunication and forfeiture of the allegiance of his subjects (1534). But the Pope found European politics unfavourable to the deposition of Henry. The Emperor realised that the papal favour had veered in the direction of France—in 1533 Clement went to Marseilles to marry his kinswoman Catarina dei Medici to Prince Henri (afterwards Henri II), and suspicion of France rendered the Emperor reluctant to risk an attack on England. Clement died in 1534, and was succeeded by Paul III, who after his accession made strenuous efforts to enlist the help of a

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France. In a letter to the French King dated July 26, 1535, His Holiness, after declaring Henry deposed, appealed to Fran£ois saying: We cast ourselves and our necessities on your piety; and we entreat you . . . to execute our sentence upon the said Henry, when by ourselves you shall be invited to take arms. . . . To your Majesty's protection we commend the dignity of the Apostolic See and the honour of Almighty God.

But just as the Emperor had refrained from overt action for fear of Francois, so Fran£ois seems to have refrained from action for fear of the Emperor; so what actually happened was that jealousy between the two great Catholic powers saved England from certain invasion and probable defeat. In the summer of 1538, however, there took place a reconciliation between the Emperor and Francois, and His Holiness took advantage of this reconciliation to attempt to induce the monarchs to take joint action against this country. Both the French and the Flemish Ambassadors were in fact withdrawn, and the English looked on invasion as inevitable; but Henry had taken full advantage of his period of respite and had pushed forward his preparations for defence so energetically that his enemies were reluctant to commence hostilities. In April 1539 the French Government received a confidential report to the effect that— No landing at Dover could now be attempted with any chance of success. Boys of seventeen and eighteen have been called up without exemption of place or person. They are prepared on all sides to the very extent of their ability, and the great Lords are at their posts as if the enemy were already at their doors (Marillac to the Connetable: 3 April 1539).

So what actually happened was that the great expedition against England was delayed for half a century, and, undertaken by the son of the Emperor against the daughter of Henry, it finally proved a total failure (1588). History as customarily written sometimes reminds us of the dramas of Racine, in which we hear a great deal about the intimate thoughts of emperors and princesses, but in which the minor characters merely appear in order to give the principals an excuse for orating. Volumes have been written about the exact attitude and real motives of Clement VII, Henry VIII, his three children who in turn succeeded him, and his son-in-law, Philip II. But it seems fitting that instead

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of paying undivided attention to these half-dozen individuals, the student should give some thought to the millions of Englishmen whose lives were profoundly affected by the events now under discussion. About this time men naturally tended to divide into three parties: (i) those who upheld the ideas of Henry himself, that is to say who wished the Catholic faith to be maintained in its entirety, but with the proviso that the Pope be recognised only as chief Bishop of Christendom, having under normal circumstances no direct intervention in English affairs. Such people naturally reflected that apart from other evils the papal powrer had sanctioned the atrocious invasion of England in 1066, had tried to bring about a similar disaster in the time of John, and was actually inviting two foreign potentates to make a further attempt. Moreover no one could fail to be impressed by the fact that the papal rule had throughout the last five centuries caused an immense drain of national wealth in the direction of Rome, while any corresponding benefits to this country were by no means easy to discover even by the most orthodox of believers; (ii) those who had been influenced by Protestantism (a school of thought which will be discussed in the next section) and who welcomed a breach with Rome as a preliminary to the adoption of the new doctrines; and (iii) those who maintained a thoroughly conservative attitude, who continued their allegiance to the Pope, and who were forced to consider their fidelity to the King as extinguished by the papal excommunication. Such men were placed in a very cruel embarrassment. By the principles of the modern state, if a man perform loyally his civic duties, he may give what spiritual obeisance he likes to any religious leader resident in Rome or elsewhere. But the papal conception of society admitted of no divided allegiance. If Pope and King quarrelled, a man could not logically say: "I render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's, and therefore in questions of religion I am loyal to the Pope, but in secular matters I am loyal to the King." The papal attitude from the time of Gregory VII onwards had made this compromise logically impossible. No one can reasonably deny that the danger to Christian princes in bad odour with the Vatican was a very real one. The assassination by Catholic fanatics of Henri III and Henri IV of France and of William the Silent of Orange, are cases in point. And Guy Fawkes, when examined by James I in person, alleged as a reason why he had attempted to assassinate the

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King the fact that the latter had been excommunicated by the Pope. So the individual was called upon to choose, and must have been guilty of disloyalty to either Pope or King. It is for this reason that the religious persecutions which took place in the reigns of Henry VIII and of his immediate successors were of widely different natures. Henry as a religious fanatic condemned to death Protestants for denying the truth of transubstantiation, while at the same time as a temporal ruler he punished as traitors men who were convinced that he had, in virtue of the papal sentence, forfeited his crown. His son Edward was under the influence of strongly Protestant advisers, and was able to impose a markedly Protestant character on the English Church. But Henry's daughter Mary, who had been made to suffer acutely by what was in effect a declaration of her illegitimacy, very naturally had a deeply rooted regard for the papal power which had sustained her position. Mary became in consequence a persecutrix from religious motives. Her sister Elizabeth was a stateswoman and by no means a fanatic, but the Pope's active hostility compelled her to regard with at least suspicion all those of her subjects who professed allegiance to the sovereign Pontiff. So it seems not unfair to say that while both Mary and Elizabeth persecuted, the former acted out of conviction and the latter because her hand was forced by her enemies. The behaviour of Elizabeth towards her Catholic subjects has indeed been the cause of such acute controversy that some further detail seems desirable. On February 25, 1570, Pope Pius V issued a bull, cutting off Elizabeth from the communion of the faithful, releasing her subjects from their allegiance, and forbidding them, under pain of incurring the same sentence of excommunication as herself, to recognise her as their sovereign. The Queen's situation thus became critical in the extreme. Her predecessor, Mary, had considered her illegitimate, and a similar attitude was adopted by the heiress presumptive, Mary Queen of Scots, who was for many years the centre of a series of intrigues directed against Elizabeth. A large part of the English nation, including a very high proportion of the nobility, had remained attached to the ancient regime, and the consequent danger of overt rebellion was a pressing one. Felton, the papal agent who actually promulgated the bull by nailing it on the door of the Bishop of London, stated when on trial that in England 25 peers, 600 gentlemen, and 30,000 commoners were ready to die in the

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Pope's quarrel, and this statement seems to have been well founded. In the following year (1571) the Spanish Court received from an agent confidential information with a list of thirty-nine of the English peers who were stated to be prepared to take arms under the Duke of Norfolk, and it was affirmed that of the remainder fifteen at the most could be depended upon to be loyal to Elizabeth. In March of that year Norfolk wrote asking that the King of Spain and His Holiness should furnish 6,000 soldiers, together with 3,000 horses and a supply of arms, to assist in an attack on Elizabeth. It so happens that a despatch (April 7, 1571) of the Duke of Alva, who was then Governor-General of the Netherlands, enables us to understand accurately the attitude of Philip's government towards Norfolk's request. Alva wrote to the King: "I have written to Don Juan de Cuniga" (Spanish Ambassador to the Vatican) "to impress on His Holiness the necessity of caution. Should the Queen of England hear of what is going on, she will have a fair excuse to execute them both" (i.e. Norfolk and Mary Queen of Scots). . . . "His Holiness sent some one here a little time ago to press these English matters upon me. I said then that he ought not to believe that the matter was as easy as the English Catholics pretended. The difficulty was not so much in the enterprise itself as in the impossibility of any common understanding about it between your Majesty and the French. . . . It would never do simply to send our troops as these people propose, on the chance of what may follow. A large force will be required, many persons will have to be admitted into the secret, and a secret which is widely shared will infallibly be betrayed. . . . But there is another possibility. Suppose the Queen of England dead— dead by the hand of nature or by some other hand; or suppose the Catholics to have got possession of her person before Your Majesty has interfered; the case is then altered. . . . The enterprise will be as honourable to Your Majesty as it will then be easy to execute. So confident am I of this, that if I hear that either of these contingencies has taken place, I shall act at once without waiting for further instructions from Your Majesty." The above extract makes the situation very clear to us. We know from other sources that Philip had from the commencement regarded the bull as ill-timed, and consequently the result of Alva's cautious advice was that the Spanish King sent instructions to the Duke to confine himself for the present to making due preparations for shipping an army from Flanders to England. Had Philip been bolder, it seems probable that

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the throne of the Tudors would have fallen; but what actually happened was that the English Government had time to obtain information as to the plan of campaign, and Norfolk went to the scaffold (1572). But circumstances rendered it obviously necessary that the English Government should take urgent measures for the safety of the Queen's person and for the stability of the realm; and it was inevitable that there should be a tendency to regard every papal adherent as a potential rebel. It can hardly be doubted that much injustice consequently resulted. Emphasis has frequently been placed on the lamentable case of Father Edmund Campion, who was executed in 1581. Campion was a brilliant scholar and man of high moral character, who, after having taken deacon's orders in the English Church, was converted to Catholicism and entered the Order of Jesus at Rome. He was sent to England as a missionary, and about a year afterwards was arrested, and after repeated torture was charged with having conspired at Rome and elsewhere to raise sedition in the realm and to dethrone the Queen. He does not seem to have denied that he travelled from Rome with funds supplied by the Pope, and that he entered England in disguise. In view of the status created by the papal bull, it was possible to argue that these acts in themselves constituted treason, but there was no real evidence of any overt act of sedition. Campion was nevertheless convicted, and suffered the extreme penalty of the law. It is remarkable that when under examination he was asked if he acknowledged Elizabeth to be really Queen of England, and he not only replied in the affirmative but maintained this attitude even after it was plain that his death was inevitable whatever he might say. It is not easy to see how under the circumstances fidelity to both Queen and Pope was possible, and indeed it seems likely that Campion had in mind the hope that his protestations of loyalty might influence the attitude of the authorities towards his co-religionists. Campion was doubtless treated with great injustice, and he fully deserves the title of martyr for his faith. But on the other hand it is not easy to see how Elizabeth's Government could with safety have avoided very severe measures towards papal agents. And the protestations of loyalty of Campion possibly did his cause as much harm as good, seeing that they tended to increase in the minds of the public doubts as to the complete ingenuousness of many statements made by Roman Catholic controversialists.

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The attitude of Philip throughout these events has been much discussed. There is no doubt that his reluctance to invade England was genuine, and was based on: (a) his failure to dominate the Netherlands; (b) the possibility of France either siding with England, or at least taking advantage in some way of hostilities between England and Spain; and (c) the fear that a permanent union between Scotland and England, under a ruler hostile to Spain, might result from the overthrow of Elizabeth. So there is no reasonable doubt that Philip was eventually influenced, against his better judgment, by religious motives. But on the other hand when he finally decided to accede to the injunctions of Pope Sixtus he was sufficiently guided by mundane considerations to ask that His Holiness should pay half the expenses of the expedition, and leave him (Philip) with a free hand as regards the political results. Eventually the Pope promised a million crowns, the first half to be payable on the arrival of the Armada in England, and it was on that understanding that the ill-fated fleet sailed from Lisbon (1588). The total failure of this expedition occasioned a considerable loss of papal prestige, and this loss was accentuated by the behaviour of the English Catholics, the great bulk of whom remained loyal to the Crown rather than to the Pope. (c} PROTESTANTISM About the middle of the eleventh century Berengarius, Archdeacon of Angers, acquired considerable notoriety by his heterodox views on the nature of the Lord's Supper. He taught that the body and blood of Jesus are therein indeed received by the faithful, but not materially and rather after a heavenly and spiritual manner. He was induced to recant (1059) and to sign a declaration that the body of Christ is "touched and broken by the hands of the priests, and ground by the teeth of the faithful, not merely in a sacramental but in a real manner." He however reverted to his former opinions, and continued to be a cause of grave scandal; but he seems on the whole to have been treated with considerable toleration by Gregory VII, and he was permitted to end his days in retirement. His case is noteworthy because he was a precursor of a school of thought which numbered a very large body of adherents from the sixteenth century onwards. Such men regarded themselves as orthodox Christians; they accepted the creeds and recognised the authority of Holy Scripture, but they exercised considerable reserve in submitting to ecclesi-

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astical discipline. They showed a certain readiness to question the scriptural interpretations considered authoritative in their day, and to ask themselves if such interpretations rightly represented the meaning of the original writers. In other words they claimed to exercise what is called the "right of private judgment." This phrase is a common one, but is perhaps a little illogical, as all Christians necessarily exercise the right of private judgment. The difference lies in the fact that one man after the exercise of this right comes to the conclusion that the Roman Church is an infallible guide, and another forms a contrary opinion. Such Christians of Western Europe as form this contrary opinion have from time to time been designated by various names to distinguish them from followers of the Roman Church. The best known of such names is "Protestant," which term was first applied to those who protested against the decisions of a Diet (or Assembly of the Empire) held at Speyer in 1529. As will have been already gathered, Protestantism coincides with traditional Christianity as regards a large number of essential doctrines, while as regards points of divergence the attitude of the former is generally negative rather than positive. Protestants are agreed that various tenets of the Roman Church are wrong, but they are not all agreed as to exactly what is right. All Protestants for example unhesitatingly reject the doctrine, as promulgated by Boniface VIII, that it is necessary for the salvation of every human creature that he submit himself to the Roman Pontiff. But Protestants do not by any means agree in answering the questions obviously raised by this rejection: (a) what living ecclesiastic has the greatest claim on our respect? and (b) what are the nature and extent of the respect due to such ecclesiastic? So it seems not unfair to compare Protestants to a group of individuals who criticise a piece of workmanship and who, while unanimously urging that some drastic alterations are necessary, nevertheless differ widely among themselves as to exactly what those alterations should be. It will be seen therefore that it is not correct to look on Protestantism as a system rivalling Catholicism in somewhat the same way as Mahometanism rivals Christianity. Roman Catholics sometimes compare their position with that of the Protestants somewhat as follows: Jesus Christ founded one Church, not many Churches. This one Church he entrusted to Blessed Peter, who

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centralised it at Rome, and who confided its government to his successors, the Bishops of Rome. The various so-called Churches to which our opponents belong were established by such men as Martin Luther, Jean Calvin, Henry VIII or the brothers Wesley, and the visible heads of such Churches are certain pastors who may or may not in themselves be worthy men, but who are wholly lacking in that divine commission which was imparted with the words "Feed my Sheep," spoken to the Rock on which the Church was built and applicable to the successors of that same Rock. To the foregoing we can imagine a Protestant replying as follows: From the Apostolic age Christians have been divided into local Churches, concerning the actual foundation of which we frequently possess no details; it is possible to regard all these Churches as offshoots, direct or indirect, of the Church of Jerusalem, but impossible to regard them in general as offshoots of the Church of Rome. Now it is highly desirable that all these Churches should work together in visible union, such union being important for their bene esse, though not however necessary for their esse. And the lack of union which in fact exists is not the fault of Protestants, because it has most paradoxically come about that it is the Bishops of Rome, in their unjustifiable desire to establish an absolute universal monarchy, who have destroyed that very union which is essential for the realisation of their ambition. It will be seen therefore that the divergence between Catholics and Protestants as regards the unity of the Church resolves itself into the question of the Petrine claims, already discussed in this treatise. If we believe that the Popes are what they claim to be, we must believe that Almighty God ratifies and confirms the sentence which cast out of the unity of the Church the Oriental Orthodox Christians. We must further believe that Almighty God similarly ratifies and confirms that sentence which cast out of the Church those English who allege the validity of Magna Charta. But as all Protestants in point of fact reject the papal claims, it is logical that they should contend that it is not they but their opponents who are primarily responsible for the lack of union in the Church,

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One result of the divergence above indicated is that the Protestant occupies his thoughts far less with the idea of a visible Church than does the Catholic. The former as a rule looks on the Church primarily as an invisible body—the blessed company of all faithful people—consisting of all those who are to a greater or less degree genuine followers of Christ. If the Protestant requires instruction on Christian doctrine he can gather it from the New Testament. If he desires to pray he is taught in the Gospels (Matt. vi. 6) how he should proceed. So he very explicably has a tendency to that process which in commercial parlance is called "cutting out the middleman." He does not ask either a priest to offer mass on his behalf or the Blessed Virgin Mary to intercede for him with Jesus, but rather does he direct his prayers to his Father which seeth in secret, in the hope that his Father which seeth in secret will reward him openly. While therefore the Protestant maintains a professional ministry, he does not usually conceive of Christian pastors as being endowed with supernatural powers, neither does he favour the idea of their holding themselves aloof from the social and domestic life of their flocks. Again, among Protestants public worship is less frequent than among Catholics; and Protestants use their churches for private devotion much less than do Catholics. Protestant churches are as a rule less ornate than those of their rivals, and are also less numerous in proportion to probable congregations. It seems unlikely that any Protestant town of corresponding size has as many churches as one sees for example in such Latin-American cities as Olinda and Bahia. Discussions between Catholics and Protestants very largely turn on the question of priestly absolution from sin, concerning which a few remarks are desirable. In the chapter dealing with the Fourth Gospel attention was called to the words of Jesus: "Whose soever sins ye remit they are remitted," and a suggestion was offered as to the real meaning of this passage. The Roman Church with its genius for discipline has consistently enjoined on its members the necessity for privately confessing their sins to a priest, so that they may receive absolution in accordance with the powers understood to be conferred in virtue of the words above quoted. The influence of the Church on the private lives of its individual members has of course been incalculably increased by the above practice, and experience has shown that this influence is largely bound up with the celibacy of the clergy. It is patent that female penitents would

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frequently hesitate before disclosing their most intimate thoughts to a married priest, who it is feared might not inconceivably discuss with his wife the matters dealt with in the confessional. It is for this reason that the laity in Roman Catholic countries is more disposed to tolerate an occasional lapse from the moral code on the part of a celibate priest than to contemplate the idea of a married clergy. Agreeably with the same general principle there are indeed in several of the older canons instances of prohibitions of priests living in the same house as their mothers or sisters. While the whole subject is admittedly surrounded by difficulties, there are two conclusions which an impartial observer can hardly fail to draw: (a) In controversy concerning the benefits and dangers of auricular confession, enough attention is in general not given to human individuality. There are many people who prize very highly the privilege of being able to explain their troubles in detail to a sympathetic and experienced spiritual director. But on the other hand there are others, neither more nor less virtuous and spiritually minded, to whom such selfexposure is wholly repugnant; (b) So long as the practice of auricular confession is enjoined as a duty instead of being offered as a privilege, opposition thereto is likely to continue. But coming back to the days of the outburst of Protestant feeling in the sixteenth century, there is one feature connected with priestly absolution that had a great influence in bringing about and intensifying this outburst. It had long been a general principle of the Church that the penitent sinner should undergo some punishment before being regarded as fully reconciled. Such punishment, or penance as it is called, was and is normally merely symbolical, the penitent being in general told to recite in private one or more prayers or psalms. But at one time it became not unusual to ask for money as the price of readmittance into the Church's privileges, and we accordingly find that, with that special genius for organisation and codification which has consistently characterised the Roman Church, the authorities nominated men called "pardoners" to travel about and to collect on behalf of the papal treasury monies paid as sin-offerings. Thus in Piers Plowman we read: Ther preched a pardoner as he a prest were, And broute forth a bulle with bishopis seles, And seide that hym-selue myghte asoilie hem alle Of falsnesse of fastings, of vows to-broke.

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The system was in itself a bad one, and moreover the abuses to which it gave rise were atrocious, because the people who purchased pardons came to understand that the mere payment of the sum demanded absolved them from all guilt in God's sight, independently of any question of their own penitence and amendment of life. The indignation occasioned by this abuse constituted one of the principal causes of the Reformation. A secondary cause, of a very similar nature, was the following. The Roman Church holds that the faithful after death pass into an intermediary state called Purgatory, where they generally spend a considerable time in purification before they become fit to rise into the higher celestial regions. Such purification can, it is taught, be expedited by the prayers of the saints in heaven and of the friends left by the departed on earth. Masses on behalf of the deceased are regarded as especially acceptable to God. Consequently it came to be considered a meritorious act to pay for the maintenance of priests whose duty it was to offer masses for the holy souls of the departed, and eventually the abusive idea gained ground that the mere payment of money could obtain the deliverance of a soul from purgatory. The question of the dissolubility or otherwise of the marriage tie is also one which has formed a fruitful cause of controversy between Protestants and their adversaries. Christians are agreed that the marriage bond should be entered into on the understanding that it is to be permanent; but Church history shows that when the parties so desire ways of obtaining release have in practice always been looked for. The teaching of the Roman Church is that the marriage tie cannot be undone, but that in many ostensible marriages nullities exist which enable the ecclesiastical courts to release the parties by declaring that the tie was never made. When it is said that canonists enumerate fourteen classes of impediments to marriage, it will be seen what extensive possibilities are opened up to the ecclesiastical lawyer. Thus Chief Justice Coke (1552-1634) mentions a case in which a marriage was annulled because the husband had stood godfather to his wife's cousin. A statute of Henry VIII calls attention to the uncertainty accruing through such decisions: "Marriages have been brought into such an uncertainty that no marriage could be so surely knit or bounden but that it should lie in either of the parties' power . . . to prove a pre-

CHRISTIANITY AS AN INSTITUTION 253 contract, a kindred and alliance, or a carnal knowledge to defeat the same" (32 Hen. VIII, c. 38). The disadvantages of an avoidance of the marriage tie, as compared with divorce, or loosening, are: (i) stigma is placed on the ostensible wife, often a wholly innocent party, on account of her having cohabited with a man not her lawful husband; (ii) children of the ostensible marriage become illegitimate; and (iii) legal processes are brought into contempt, because it is frequently patent that the plaintiff merely desires a dissolution of the tie, and the alleged ground of nullity is only a pretext. The well-known cases of the avoidance of the marriages between the French kings Louis XII and Henri IV and their respective first queens, may be cited as instances. Napoleon indeed informed the senate that in annulling his marriage with Josephine he was following the example of thirteen French sovereigns. Protestantism on the other hand has tended to emphasise the teaching of Jesus in Matt. v. 32 and to admit divorce a vinculo as an exceptional remedy to be applied, as against the guilty party, in the event of adultery. This is a muchdiscussed question, on which the last word has yet to be spoken. It seems however fair to call attention to the fact that the attitude of the Roman Church results from its general tendency to formalism and legality. All parties start from the general principle that a marriage is a permanent union, but afterwards they differ: the Roman theologian is much more shocked at the idea of a valid union being formally and ostensibly dissolved than he is at the idea of ecclesiastical courts proclaiming, on very flimsy grounds indeed, that such union has never taken place. It is now desirable to say something about the Protestant attitude towards the Bible. Reaction to Roman Catholic doctrine and practice led some of the earlier of the Protestants to a critical examination of the Biblical canon, and we find for example that Luther looked with considerable suspicion on four of the New Testament books (Hebrews, James, Jude, Apocalypse). But here a difficulty presented itself. The Catholic position was and is that the Christian should regard as authoritative the Church and the Bible, looking on the two as mutually supporting. If therefore Protestantism rejects entirely the authority of the Church and partially that of the Bible, what standard remains? It was apparently in view of the difficulty

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so created that Protestants went back on their early attitude, and came to base their position unreservedly on the Bible (accepting however the Old Testament in the manner advocated by Jerome, i.e. the Apocrypha being regarded as of only secondary value). Thus Chillingworth writing in 1637 claims that "the Bible, the Bible alone, is the religion of Protestants," and this phrase has met with considerable approval. It has consequently come about that there is in practice a great difference between the use of the Bible among the Catholic and Protestant laity respectively. While the Roman Church has, as has already been pointed out, consistently affirmed the sacred ness and canonicity of Holy Scripture, nevertheless it has forbidden in the severest terms the use of unauthorised translations (vide e.g. the Encyclical Inter Praecipuas of Gregory XVI, May 8, 1844), and has at the same time done but little to encourage the use by the laity of the authorised Latin translation, or Vulgate (vide p. 151). But Protestants customarily place freely in the hands of their adherents the whole of the Scriptures regarded by them as canonical. While many and various blessings have unquestionably resulted from this practice, it can hardly be denied that certain disadvantages have accrued. Many passages of the Scriptures are frankly unsuitable for general reading, and, leaving aside the question of propriety, a certain proportion of the Old Testament to-day hardly repays careful study. What interest can a modern reader take in the list of the fourteen sons of Heman (i Chron. xxv. 4)? But the most unfortunate effect of the orthodox Protestant's attitude towards the Bible is seen in its influence on his conception of God's work in the universe. If an impartial student read the scriptural account of Jonah and the great fish, or of Balaam and his ass, his impressions are probably (a) that the respective writers imparted their meaning by fables, and did not profess to be relating actual events, and (b) even if this be not so, there is no obvious reason why one should believe an unsupported account of occurrences so remote from normal human experience. But Protestants have frequently felt that if they begin to cast doubt on the literal veracity of the Bible, no visible source of authority remains for them; and they consequently have often insisted with some emphasis that it is the bounden duty of the true Christian to believe certain affirmations which appear prima facie to be very highly improbable. Consequently we find that

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the orthodox Protestant of the old school, while turning a deaf ear to those numerous witnesses who testify in favour of such alleged phenomena as Cardinal Newman's "motion of the eyes of the pictures of the Madonna in the Roman States/' will unhesitatingly accept the story of how Elijah twice called down fire from heaven to consume, on each occasion, a company of fifty soldiers, who were merely the wholly innocent agents of their commander (2 Kings i. 9). Protestantism has also differed widely from Catholicism with respect to the observance of Sunday. From very early times Christians have kept the first day of the week as a holy day in remembrance of the Resurrection of Jesus. But Protestants have gone farther and have regarded certain very rigid ordinances, laid down in the Mosaic Law with respect to the Sabbath, as applicable to Christians, with the proviso however that such ordinances now refer to the first, and not the seventh day of the week. But to this their opponents may not unreasonably reply that the injunction to respect the Sabbath is found side by side with a similar injunction to allow land to lie fallow one year in seven "that the poor of thy people may eat" (Ex. xxiii. ii and 12). If the former is still to be respected as a Divine command, why not the latter? Identification of the Jewish Sabbath with the Christian Sunday has been carried to such an extent that in some Protestant countries it is quite usual to hear the first day of the week actually spoken of as "the Sabbath Day," whereas in Catholic Spain and Portugal Sunday is called "Domingo" (the Lord's Day), Saturday being called "Sabado" (the Sabbath). The French names Dimanche" and "Samedi" have the same etymology. Two characteristics of Protestantism are very commonly emphasised by its opponents: the first being its tendency to split up into a number of relatively small and mutually antagonistic bodies. This tendency, unfortunate as it is, seems to be the inevitable result (a) of a lack of any visible central authority and (b) of a disposition to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest the words of Holy Scripture. Secondly, it is objected against Protestantism that in its work among the less educated classes it has been inclined to over-emphasise the teaching of the Epistle to the Hebrews, and has consequently brought into great prominence "the blood of Jesus," rather than "the example of Jesus" or "the work performed by Jesus." Origen referred to the name of Jesus as "a kind of

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sacred spell/' and it is to be feared that in many cases the less thoughtful of the Protestants have fallen into a similar error with respect to his blood. Thus for example William Cowper (1731-1800), better known to most readers as the author of John Gilpin, wrote a hymn commencing: There is a fountain filled with Blood Drawn from Emmanuel's veins, And sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains.

The above lines have become very popular among uneducated congregations, but it is to be doubted if the effect is always edifying. Too many hearers are carried away by religious fervour, and believe that the blood of Jesus has cleansed them from their sins, only to discover after the excitement has died down that they unhappily fail to bring forth the fruit of the Spirit, which is all goodness and righteousness and truth (Eph. v. 9). Politically the benefits derived from Protestantism are immense: it can indeed be said that it has prepared mankind for the idea of the modern state. Medieval society was based, in theory at all events, on the idea of the subjection of the heathen and the heretic to the Christian layman, of the Christian layman to the Christian clergy, and of the Christian clergy to the Pope. Hence justice, as the word is to-day understood, was not merely impossible but was considered undesirable. Now it cannot of course be claimed for the Protestant that as soon as he found himself freed from the medieval system, he at once set to work to constitute a society in which he should have exactly the same rights as his adversary who was still actively engaged in attempting to bring about a reversion to the status quo ante. Unhappily the Protestant, in those countries where he gained the upper hand, showed himself in many respects as intolerant as had been the Catholic. But an important distinction must be made. Open hostilities between Catholics and Protestants originally arose because the latter claimed a right to worship as they pleased, and the Catholics denied this right. So the Protestant states, when they finally came to feel themselves reasonably secure against attempts to disturb forcibly the exercise of the Protestant cult, were bound by their principles to extend toleration to Catholics, and did in point of fact sooner or later act on these principles. The Catholic states in so far as they have extended toleration to

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Protestants, seem to have done so in opposition to the directions laid down by the Holy See. (Vide Appendix E, p. 301.) Coming back however to the time of the Reformation, we find that reaction, on the part of the Catholics, against the spread of Protestantism very naturally took two different directions—active hostility against the Reformers themselves, and genuine reforms carried into effect within the Roman Church in order to place it in a position to combat its enemies more effectively. The question of active hostility to the Reformers is one of the most painful in the history of the human race, but it is not proposed in this place to go into any detail. It suffices here to say that the combined effect of the work of the Inquisition and of the great religious wars has been to leave a profound and lasting impression on European mentality, and to form to-day a grave impediment to the propagation of Christianity. The subject of reform within the Church itself is a much more agreeable one. In commencing to deal with this matter it may be said that the Emperor Carlos V, notwithstanding the fact that his policy was frequently in direct conflict with papal interests, was wholly orthodox in his religious views, and ardently desired to see such genuine reforms within the Church as would enable it to combat successfully the growing tendency to Protestantism. With this end in view he pressed for the convocation of an Ecumenical Council. The University of Paris had advocated the same measure in 1518. Now the steps taken by the Ecumenical Councils of Constance (1414) and Basel (1431) had been exceedingly unfavourable to the papal prestige. Both Councils had acted formally on the principle that the authority of a Council is greater than that of a Pope. The Council of Constance deposed John XXIII, and that of Basel Eugenius IV, though in the latter case the final victory rested with the Pope rather than with the Council. So we are not surprised to find that in 1459 Pius II, notwithstanding the fact that in early life he had been a prominent opponent of Eugenius, published a bull affirming the supremacy of the Pope over Councils, and anathematising anyone who should appeal to the latter. It will be readily understood therefore that in the first half of the sixteenth century, when the doctrines of Protestantism were beginning to take a strong hold on men's minds, Pope Paul III should have regarded the occasion as unpropitious for convening a Council, even with a view to what may be called "conservative reforms," R

258 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY that is to say reforms which might be expected to increase the efficiency of the Church without modifying its doctrine. So a policy of procrastination was adopted. A Council was however eventually convened for 1537, and actually commenced to function, at Trent, in 1545. Arrangements were made whereby about two-thirds of the members of the Council should be Italian, and Cardinal Pallavicini (1607-1667) in his History of the Council of Trent tells us very frankly that the Italian bishops had no other aim than the support and the greatness of the Apostolic See (non tendevano ad altro oggetto che al sostentamento ed alia grandezza della sede apostolica). So we are not surprised to find that the Council performed its labours throughout under the assumption that it did not form an autonomous assembly, but merely acted under the commission and direction of the Pope. Such proposed changes as the optional marriage of the clergy, and the administration of Holy Communion to the laity under the species of both bread and wine, were rejected. But nevertheless the constructive work of the Council is of immense importance, and is ably summed up by Charles Seignobos in his Histoire Sincere de la Nation Frangaise: The Council effected a reform by reestablishing discipline by measures which were, in part, imitations of the proceedings of its adversaries. It maintained obligatory celibacy for priests and religious orders; it ordered bishops to visit their dioceses in order to superintend their priests. It prescribed the foundation of seminaries to instruct young men destined to the Eriesthood. It ordered priests to reside in their parishes, reguited their costume, their habits and their manner of life, and also indicated severity of deportment. To reinforce the authority of the clergy over the faithful it ordered them to preach sermons on Sundays and to teach the catechism to children. . . . The Council . . . in condemning clerical abuses which were a cause of scandal, deprived its adversaries of one of its most popular arguments. The Church, reformed in a traditional sense, was thenceforth provided with means of making itself respected and obeyed by the laity. (d) Liberal Theology, sometimes tending to Scepticism Students of history have been impressed by the fact that among the influences hostile to the papal power at the time of the Reformation, so relatively unimportant a place is occupied by so-called liberal theology, or in other words theology regarded as unorthodox by Catholics and Protestants alike. It is true" that we read that Miguel Serveto (i5U~i553)> a

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Spanish physician, after publishing two very heterodox works unluckily happened to visit Geneva, then a Protestant city, where at the instance of Calvin he was tried for heresy and burnt, notwithstanding the fact that his offence, if offence it were, was committed outside the jurisdiction of the Swiss authorities. But this incident was an exceptional one, and if we study the activities of the Roman Church, although we learn a good deal about the persecution of Protestants and of such Jews as, after having submitted to baptism, were accused of having relapsed, we read relatively little about writers having the courage to propound such doctrines as a Protestant would regard as contrary to the fundamentals of the Christian religion. It is true that in the second half of the sixteenth century the Sozini (or Sozzini) family of Siena made itself remarkable for its heterodox views as to the person and mission of Jesus, and indeed the name Socinian is still used to indicate one who denies the divinity of the Founder of Christianity. But although Cornelio, one of the less-known members of the family, was at one time imprisoned in Rome, the Sozini seem to have suffered but little for their unusual opinions. It seems therefore on the whole fair to say that until the second half of the nineteenth century Catholicism and orthodox Protestantism were troubled surprisingly little by what came to be known as liberal theology. In the eighteenth century a school of Deists acquired considerable influence among the so-called "intellectuals" in France and elsewhere, but this school, which was regarded with extreme aversion by Catholics and Protestants alike, opposed the claims of Christianity in toto. In England the "Blasphemy Act" (1697-1698) penalises very severely anyone who, after having once professed or been educated in the Christian religion, denies the authority of Holy Scripture. But, at all events during the nineteenth century, this law only seems to have been put into full operation when an unreasonably violent attack on Christianity was made. It is true that Shelley's Queen Mob was held (1841) to be a blasphemous libel, but in this case the prosecutor was a man who had himself been indicted for a similar offence, and who seems to have instituted proceedings merely to test the opinion of the courts. (e) Mysticism Something has already been said about the mystic as one who, instead of looking forward to a time when he may come to

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enjoy God's presence in heaven, seeks rather here on earth to realise that actual union with the Deity which seems to be indicated in the prayer of Jesus: That they all may be one, as thou Father art in me and I in thee, that they also may be one in us (John xvii. 21). According to this conception of religion, man's duty is consciously to struggle to raise his being Godwards and to seek union with the Almighty. Now an objection at once presents itself: in accounts of religious experiences self-deception is not infrequently intermingled with what is genuine. An intimate conviction as to union with God might indeed be quite conceivably facilitated by such extraneous means as the use of drugs.1 How then is the Christian to know that his inmost feelings with respect to the indwelling of the Spirit are not a mere subjective delusion? The most obvious answer is of course that we are known by our fruits. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance (Gal. v. 22). If a man bring forth this fruit surely it forms evidence of the Divine approval. But though the above argument is indubitably weighty it must be admitted that it by no means closes the question, because it may still be suggested that the mystic may have erroneous ideas about the relationships between the Deity and mankind, but nevertheless he may be a choice soul, very precious indeed in God's sight, and on that account abundantly rewarded. It is, it may be submitted, undoubted that certain men called mystics believe themselves to have attained union with God, and that such men frequently bring forth abundantly in their lives the fruits of the Spirit; but nevertheless strictly speaking such abundant bringing forth is not proof of the accuracy of their belief. Something may now be said about the actual teaching of the Christian mystics, and two names, Eckhart and Scheffler, are here chosen as representative of their class. MEISTER ECKHART (c. 1260-^. 1327) was a Dominican, 1 Professor William James (The Varieties of Religious Experience) tells us: Nitrous oxide and ether, especially nitrous oxide, when sufficiently diluted with air, stimulates the mystical consciousness in an extraordinary degree. Depth beyond depth of truth seems revealed to the inhaler. The truth fades out however, or escapes, at the moment of coming to; and if any words remain over in which it seemed to clothe itself they prove to be the veriest nonsense. Nevertheless the sense of a profound meaning having been there persists; and I know more than one person who is persuaded that in the nitrous oxide trance we have a genuine metaphysical revelation.

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and like so many other members of his order an earnest student of Thomas Aquinas. But the methods of the two men were widely different. St. Thomas taught that for the human soul to attain to the highest truth it must be assisted by something which we call "revelation," coming from without. Eckhart on the other hand seems to attach but little value to revelation. In his opinion Divine truth is something which carries out its work within us independently of any external aid. Eckhart calls attention to the words of Jesus: It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go not away the Paraclete will not come unto you; and he interprets these words to mean; Te have set too much joy upon my present appearance, therefore the perfect joy of the Paraclete cannot come unto you. Eckhart shows us the nature of his conception of God when he says: Some people want to see God with the same eyes with which they see a cow, and want to love God as they would love a cow. So they love God for the sake of outer riches and inner comfort, but such people do not rightly love God. . . . Simple folk fancy that they should behold God as though he stood there and they here. But this is not so. God and I are one when my soul knoweth him. It is noticeable that in the above passage Eckhart deprecates the love of God for the sake of inner comfort. This opinion may be well contrasted with such a commonplace sentiment as that contained in Faber's well-known hymn ending: Father of Jesus, love's reward, What rapture will it be Prostrate before thy throne to lie And gaze and gaze on thee. As the mystic believes that he is essentially one with the Deity, it follows that for him any feeling of separation from God is a mere delusion of the senses, which tends to disappear as the inner sight becomes more and more developed. The non-mystic on the other hand looks forward to a time when his knowledge of God will be fuller, and his relationship more intimate; but nevertheless according to his theological system the creature and the Creator will for ever remain essentially separate, it being through all eternity the duty and privilege of the former to worship the latter.

262 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY The foregoing prepares us for other sayings of Eckhart: A Master said: God became man, whereby the whole human race is uplifted and made worthy. Thereby we may be glad that Chris^ our brother, of his own strength rose above all the choirs of angels and sitteth at the right hand of the Father. That Master spake well, but in truth I would little heed it. What would it profit me had I a brother who was a rich man, and I were poor? What would it profit me had I a brother who was a wise man and I were a fool? . . . The Heavenly Father begetteth his Only Begotten Son in himself and in me. Wherefore in himself and in me? I am one with him and he hath no power to shut me out. In the selfsame work the Holy Spirit receiveth its being and proceedeth from me as from God. Why? I am in God, and if the Holy Spirit take not its being from me, neither doth it take it from God. I am in no wise shut out. I speak in good truth and in eternal truth and in everlasting truth that God must needs ever pour himself forth to the utmost of possibility in every man who has reached down to the foundation of his being—so wholly and completely that in his life and in his being, in his nature and in his Godhead, he keeps nothing bapk, he must ever pour all forth in fruitful wise. It is a sure and certain truth that God is of necessity bound to seek us as though indeed his very Godhead depended upon it. God can as little dispense with us as we with him. Even though we turn away from God, yet God can never turn away from us. I thank God not that he loveth me, for he may not do otherwise; whether he will or no yet his nature compelleth him . . . therefore will I not pray to God to give me anything nor will I praise him for that he hath given me.

And the following passages illustrate Eckhart's attitude to the great problem of freewill: God compelleth not the will; rather he setteth the will free, so that it wills not otherwise than what God willeth. And the spirit desires not to will other than what God willeth, and that is not lack of freedom, it is true and real freedom. The righteous man serveth neither God nor the creature, for he is free, and the nearer he is to righteousness the nearer he is to freedom's very self. The man who standeth in God's will and in God's love, he but craveth to do all good things that God willeth and to leave undone all evil things that are contrary to God. And it is impossible for him to leave undone anything that God ordains. Even as a man whose legs are bound cannot walk, so it is

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impossible that a man who standeth in God's will should do aught unvirtuous. Certain men say: I have God and God's freedom; I may do whatever I please. Such understand wrongly this saying. So long as thou canst do aught that is contrary to God and his commandments, so long hast thou not God's love, even though thou mayst deceive the world that thou hast. In fine, for Eckhart the Christian's philosophy is summed up in the phrase: "God became man that I might become God." JOHANN SCHEFFLER (1624-1677) is perhaps better known by his pseudonym of Angelus Silesius. Originally a physician and of the Lutheran persuasion, he joined the Roman Church, became a priest and rose to be coadjutor to the Prince Bishop of Breslau. He is widely known as the author of a collection of over two hundred hymns. Of these the most familiar to English worshippers is the Liebe, die du mich zum Bilde> a wellknown translation of which begins: O Love, who formedst me to wear The image of thy Godhead here; Who soughtest me with tender care Through all my wanderings wild and drear: O Love, I give myself to thee, Thine ever, only thine to be. But a work, less popular than the hymns but more valuable to the student, is the Cherubinischer Wandersmann. In this book Scheffler puts into the form of rhymed couplets various thoughts apparently drawn, principally at all events, from earlier Christian mystics. Some examples are subjoined: God is in me the fire and I in him the light: do we not each partake of the other most intimately? I am as rich as God: believe me, man, there can be no grain of dust that I have not in common with him. God loves me above himself if I love him above myself: so much I give him as he giveth me from himself. The bird flieth in the air, the stone rests upon the earth, the fish lives in the water and my spirit in God's hand. Halt! whither runnest thou? Heaven is in thee; seekest thou God elsewhere, thou missest him for ever.

264 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY Man is all things; if aught is lacking in him then in truth he knoweth not his riches. The world it holds thee not; thou art thyself the world that holds thee, with thee, in thee, so strongly captive bound. I myself am eternity when I abandon time and self in God, and grasp God in myself. The rose here seen by thine outer eye, has so bloomed in God from all eternity. So long as for thee, my friend, time and place exist, so long thou failest to grasp what is God and what eternity. In as far as my own "I" languishes and decreases, so cometh to power the Lord's own "I." God may not make without me a single little worm: if I with him uphold it not, straightway must it burst asunder. I know that without me God can no moment live; if I come to nought he needs must give up the Ghost. Is my will dead? God must do as I will; I myself prescribe to him the pattern and the goal. For the wicked is the law; were there no command written, still would the righteous love God and their neighbours. All must be slain. If thou slayest not thyself for God, then at last eternal death will slay thee for the enemy. A few representative passages have now been given from two representative Christian mystics. Without here submitting any opinion on the vital question whether these writers were or were not justified in their assumptions as to the essential unity of their Higher Ego with God, there are three observations which may conveniently be made: Firstly: the ideas of Eckhart and of Scheffler may shed some light on such very difficult sayings of Jesus as those in which he tells us My Father is greater than /, and immediately afterwards All things that the Father hath are mine> and That they all may be one; as thou Father art in me and I in thee> that they also may be one in us (John xiv. 28, xvi. 15, xvii. 21). Secondly: a mystic who believes that his Higher Ego is

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essentially one with God can scarcely be expected to attach great importance to theological dogmas. If a man like Eckhart be so convinced of his unity with the Deity that he neither prays for any benefit hoped for, nor thanks God for any benefit received, he cannot surely believe, with the author of the Athanasian Creed, that it is necessary to everlasting salvation that he believe rightly the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ; neither is he likely to hold with Boniface VIII that it is necessary for the salvation of every human creature that he submit himself to the Roman Pontiff. Thirdly: the Christian mystic, having an intense conviction of the indwelling of God within the human soul, and also of man's participation in the Divine nature, is likely to form an opinion of Jesus as a being in whom God specially dwelt, and who specially participated in the Divine nature. Hence the mystic is more likely to be attracted by what seems to have been the older Christian theology—i.e. that Jesus was endued with the Spirit at his baptism—than with the later—i.e. that Jesus was God Incarnate from the moment of his miraculous conception. When attention was specially called above to the works of two mystics, Eckhart and Scheffler, it was not intended to be implied that all those theologians who are commonly called "mystics" take such a definite view of the essential identity of God and man as did the two writers named. Thus few people would deny the title of "mystic" to St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who wrote a sequence in which the following passage, addressed to Jesus, occurs: Celestial sweetness unalloyed! Who eat thee hunger still, Who drink of thee still feel a void Which nought but thou can fill. In the above lines St. Bernard clearly desired to indicate an extremely close communion with God, without however going quite the length of Eckhart, in whose opinion the union was so complete that he felt justified in declaring that "I am in God and if the Holy Spirit take not its being from me, neither doth it take it from'God." It will now be seen why the medieval Church tended to look on mysticism always with suspicion and sometimes with

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active hostility. Little by little dogmatic theology had caused men to look on the Almighty Father as more and more remote; he was to be approached through Jesus, and Jesus having in his turn become remote was to be approached through his Blessed Mother and through the Saints. And the Church simultaneously came to be looked on as the divinely instituted organisation by and through which the prayers of the faithful were offered in an acceptable manner. But this elaborate system had but little interest for the true mystic: if he realised the presence of God within him he felt but small need to travel to Compostella to seek the protection of St. James, or to Canterbury to ask for the intercession of St. Thomas a Becket. Reference has already been made to Protestantism as tending to eliminate what in commercial parlance is called the "middleman," and this consideration applies with even greater force to mysticism. In consequence it would appear that in Spain the activities of the Inquisition were directed far more against mystics (alumbrados or enlightened ones) than against Protestants, the explanation of course being that the principles of the Reformation failed to arouse any great sympathy in the Peninsula. St. Theresa of Avila was several times denounced to the Inquisition, and one of her books, Conceptos del amor divino, was actually prohibited. She herself was under arrest for two years, and the immense success which eventually crowned her efforts seems to have been largely due to the fact that the attacks on her had been directed from Italy, and consequently aroused a reaction in the mind of Philip II, who disliked Italian interference in Spanish affairs. It is especially instructive to examine the attitude of the authorities towards what is called "Quietism," that is to say the passive meditation on God, in the belief that such meditation is the highest spiritual exercise, and the chief means whereby the Creator and the individual soul can be brought into intimate communion. The best-known apostle of this school was Miguel de Molinos (c. 1640-1697), a Spanish priest who settled in Rome and was for a long time an intimate friend of Pope Innocent XI. Molinos collected round him a considerable following of pious and intelligent disciples, largely belonging to the best Roman society, for whose benefit he published a Guida spirituale, a book which was examined by the Inquisition and considered orthodox. But as Molinos became more popular the authorities perceived more clearly —what apparently Molinos himself did not perceive—that in

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his system there was really no logical necessity for a formally organised Church, nor indeed for the death of Jesus on the Cross. So Molinos was arrested: two years subsequently he made a formal retraction of his doctrines and was sentenced to imprisonment for life. He died after about ten years' incarceration. In Spain several devotees alleged to be "Molinists" were burnt in the eighteenth century. Other examples of mystics forcibly repressed by the Church are the Cathari. These formed a very widely spread body, and are perhaps best known on account of the fact that the inner circle of the Albigenses were Cathari. The exact tenets of the body form a matter of doubt; the information that has reached us has filtered through their opponents, and much of it appears to bepri mafacie unreliable. (Vide Appendix C, p. 299, dealing with this subject.) But there seems no doubt that the Cathari perfecti were celibates; that their austerities rivalled those of the Christian hermits; that they ate neither meat, cheese nor eggs, nor did they drink milk; that they taught that salvation comes about by the gift of the Spirit and by man becoming the vehicle of the Paraclete; that until a man receives the Divine gift he is destined to be born again and again, but that finally all men will be redeemed. The Cathari are specially interesting on account of the influence they exercised on Catholicism. It was principally to counteract the teaching of the Cathari that the Dominican order was formed; the Catholic sacrament of Extreme Unction is believed to have been suggested by the Catharist consolamentum, and it was the adverse criticism pronounced by the Cathari on the character of the Old Testament Deity which led the Church to discourage the circulation of the Old Testament among laymen.

CHAPTER VIII CHRISTIANITY OF TO-DAY PREPARATORY to making a few general observations concerning the Christian religion as it exists at the present time, it seems desirable to recall the nature of its growth. We have seen a society, apparently quite small in number at its founder's death, increase slowly and with difficulty during two centuries, after which it took a sudden impulse and rapidly attained great popularity, eventually becoming indeed the chief religion of the Roman Empire. It seems reasonable to conclude that the Christian had during a certain period every ground for hoping that his faith would shortly become dominant throughout the habitable world. In the seventh century however such hopes received a rude shock by the rapid and spectacular success of a rival creed. There subsequently followed many years of warfare between Christian and Moslem nations; and it happened that after a kind of stalemate had been reached in the seventeenth century, the former group progressed in material civilisation incomparably faster than did its opponents. Indeed by the nineteenth century it seemed that it would have been relatively easy for the Christian powers, had they so wished, to have combined and to have completely dominated the Mahometans. But by that time the Christian nations had almost entirely lost that sense of solidarity which had caused the sovereigns of England, France and Germany to take joint action against the infidel in Asia Minor towards the close of the twelfth century. Christian powers have indeed during the last few hundred years been guilty of most sanguinary wars among themselves, and mere jealousy has proved itself sufficient to prevent them from joining in arms against the Moslem. And it must further be said, in this case to the credit of the modern Christian, that the fact is now widely recognised that religion is not rightly propagated by wholesale slaughter—by "devastating the vicious lands" of the expected proselyte— but by missionary efforts approximating somewhat more closely to the methods of Jesus and of his immediate followers. From quite early days there existed an occasional tendency for larger or smaller numbers of Christians to sever themselves from the main body; and in the eleventh century an extremely important schism took place, the Eastern and Western groups

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definitely separating. Again in the sixteenth century a very large number of Western Christians severed themselves from the traditionally organised Church, and, taking the name of Protestants, formed a number of independent bodies. Between Catholics and Protestants there then ensued a very active period of violent hostility. While this hostility is by no means entirely at an end, its violence has been abated by the growth of the modern conception of the lay state, either maintaining itself neutral in all purely religious matters, or at least extending frank toleration to well-behaved partisans of creeds other than that officially adopted. Now if the excellent Pangloss, who, as we all know, taught his pupils that in this best of possible worlds everything is necessarily disposed in the best possible manner, had lived towards the end of the nineteenth century, he would very probably have been led to conclude that Protestantism was especially the object of divine favour. We can indeed imagine that he would have spoken somewhat as follows: I see much that is admirable in the Mahometan religion and in the daily lives of many of its adherents. I cannot doubt therefore that this religion receives Divine approval to a very considerable degree. But on the other hand a careful comparison between Mahometanism and Christianity convinces me that the former occupies only a secondary place. And if I pursue my investigation further, arid attempt to distinguish between the different branches of Christianity, the conclusion to which I come is on the whole favourable to Protestantism. It is true that as regards mere numbers, Catholicism is far ahead of its rival. But if we judge of the value of a religion by its effect on culture, enlightenment, education and moral rectitude, the result appears to be frankly favourable to Protestantism. Divide for example the American continent into two parts, north and south of the boundary between Mexico and the United States, and judge accordingly. It is true that certain Catholic countries, notably France and Italy, have attained a very high level of civilisation. But in both these countries anti-clerical influence is very strong, and in neither are the precepts of Catholicism respected with regard to the relationships between Church and State. In point of fact in Italy a condition of open hostility exists between the Vatican and the Quirinal. I

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have no hesitation therefore in concluding that the future of Christianity and indeed of civilisation lies with Protestantism. But the opinions of Pangloss might possibly have been considerably modified had he lived say three decades subsequently. The situation by that time had become profoundly altered. Catholicism had become far stronger in various parts of the world, and Protestantism had in the meantime come to exhibit certain very disquieting symptoms, concerning which a few comments are now offered. It has already been seen that while Catholicism is fundamentally a religion of a Church and of a Book, in actual practice the authority of the Book has tended to be obscured in popular theology. But orthodox Protestantism for centuries avowedly based its teaching on the assumption of the literal accuracy of the Bible narrative. And in consequence grave difficulties began to arise when in the second half of the nineteenth century the scientific theories of the schools of Darwin and Lyell began to be popular. For some time Protestantism was able to maintain an attitude of simple negation in the face of such teaching as tended to cast doubts on the scientific accuracy of the book of Genesis. But as time went on Protestant ministers found it increasingly difficult to make their flocks believe that the visible universe came into being by means of six distinct acts of creation, occurring on six successive days. And when congregations came to reject this proposition, it was explicable enough that they should begin to ask: If we cannot rely on the statements of the Bible with respect to such matters as are to some extent open to verification, why should we rely on its remaining statements? Hence a great falling off in the influence of the Protestant teachers. These men are at least as earnest, intelligent and conscientious as were their predecessors, and their reading usually covers a far wider field. But they claim less authority over their hearers, and one of the most human of human weaknesses is the respect that man instinctively feels for definite affirmations, true or false, delivered in an authoritative manner. It is probably fair to say that people who call themselves Protestants at the present time are at least as truly religious as were their predecessors two generations ago. But they attend public worship far less, and they attach relatively little importance to dogmatic teaching.

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On the other hand the influence of the Church of Rome on its followers has been affected to a much smaller extent by modern scientific discoveries and speculations. The Holy See has found itself in a position to some extent analogous to that which it occupied when, on the disruption of the Roman Empire, it proved to be the one existing organisation able to speak in an authoritative manner. And it has not been slow to avail itself of the opportunity so afforded. So Pangloss, had he been living at the present time, would presumably show himself as great an admirer of Catholicism as he would have been of Protestantism had he lived half a century ago. It may therefore be of interest if something be said about the position of the Roman Church with respect to the modern state, modern thought and modern society. Three-quarters of a century ago Pope Pius IX conceived the idea of compiling a kind of code, technically called a "syllabus," which would indicate authoritatively the Church's attitude towards such matters as those above indicated. It was decided that this code should take a negative form, i.e. instead of positive dogmas being enunciated, errors were to be condemned (or rather re-condemned); and, as a result of the labours of a commission specially appointed, eighty propositions were selected as having been already stigmatised as erroneous by His Holiness. On December 8, 1864, the Cardinal Secretary of State, acting on the Pope's instructions, addressed to all the Roman Catholic Bishops a formal letter enclosing a copy of the condemned propositions. Now these eighty "erroneous propositions" are of by no means equal interest. For example No. 31 advocates the abolition of the special courts of justice for the trying of secular causes, civil or criminal, to which a cleric is a party. But in condemning this proposition the Pope does not appear to adopt a wholly uncompromising attitude, nor does he affirm that no cleric should ever be judged by a layman. On the contrary the language used seems to imply that the matter is one on which negotiations may conveniently take place between the civil and the ecclesiastical authorities. But the condemnation of certain other propositions shows a far more uncompromising spirit, and is indeed of a nature to give rise to considerable criticism. For example: 5. Divine revelation is imperfect, and is consequently subject to a continual and indefinite progress which corresponds to the development of human reason.

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INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY 15. Every man is free to adopt and to profess the religion which he reputes to be true according to the light of reason. 42. In case of legal conflict between the two powers, civil jurisprudence prevails, 55. The Church should be separated from the State, and the State from the Church. 63. It is permissible to refuse obedience to lawful princes, and even to revolt against them. 78. It is justifiable that in some Catholic countries the law has provided that foreigners may enjoy the public exercise of their special forms of worship. 80. The Roman Pontiff can and should reconcile himself with, and adapt himself to progress, liberalism, and modern civilisation. Now one cannot condemn numbers 42 and 55 without appearing to claim that there should exist a close relationship between Church and State, on the understanding that in case of conflict between the two powers the ecclesiastical law, or in other words the will of the Pope, should prevail. And one cannot condemn number 63 without appearing to condemn in toto all those checks on absolutism which the experience of centuries has proved to be so necessary for the progress and welfare of civilised countries. And moreover the condemnation of Nos. 5 and 15 is of a nature to cause considerable embarrassment to the faithful. If revelation is not progressive, how can one justify the fact that prior to 1854 it was permissible for a good Catholic to teach, as did for example St. Thomas Aquinas, that the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception is false? And how can one justify the further fact that prior to 1870 it was permissible for a good Catholic to believe, as did for example the bishops assembled at the Council of Constance, that the Pope is not infallible? And if a man may not accept a religion because his reason tells him that it is true, on what grounds can a Protestant be asked to accept the Roman Catholic faith? Concerning the reception of the Syllabus by the Church, Professor Boudinhon, already referred to in these pages as a moderately-minded Catholic theologian, tells us: Its publication aroused the most violent polemics; what was then called the Ultramontane party was loud in its praise; while the liberals treated it as a declaration of war made by the Church on modern society and civilisation. Napoleon Ill's government forbade its publication, and suspended the newspaper L'Univers for having published it. Controversies were equally numerous as to the theological value of the Syllabus.

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Most Catholics saw in it as many infallible definitions as condemned propositions; others observed that the Pope had neither personally signed nor promulgated the collection, but had intentionally separated it from the Encyclical by sending it merely under cover of a letter from his Secretary of State; they said it was hastily and sometimes unfortunately drawn up; they saw in it an act of the pontifical authority, but without any of the marks required in the case of dogmatic definitions; they concluded therefore that each proposition was to be appreciated separately, and in consequence that each was open to theological comment. That such is the true view is proved by the fact that Rome never censured the theologians who, like Newman, took up this position (Encycl. Brit.}.

The above reasoning seems strained. The reader naturally enquires: "What are the marks required in the case of dogmatic definitions?" The reply is that it is claimed that the Pope is infallible when he, acting in his capacity of Universal Bishop, declares that a certain pronouncement on any question of faith or morals is binding on the whole Church (vide p. J72)/ It seems a little disingenuous to deny that these conditions are fulfilled in the present case. The fact that the propagation of the Syllabus was entrusted to the Cardinal Secretary of State is an indication that the Pope acted officially, and the fact that the Cardinal was instructed to send a copy to every Roman Catholic Bishop indicates the intention of imparting authoritative teaching to the whole Church. The concluding remark made by Professor Boudinhon about the position of Newman and his fellow-liberals is difficult to follow. One party in the Church affirmed that certain doctrines laid down by the Pope were infallible; the other party denied this. His Holiness himself formally condemned neither. Surely it is unfair to infer, as Professor Boudinhon appears to do, that the Pope thereby supported the position of those who denied infallibility to his own pronouncement. It has been frequently suggested that the liberal policy of Leo XIII, the successor of Pius IX, did much to counteract the traditional conservatism of the latter. This however is only a partial truth. Leo XIII had an extraordinary faculty for making himself respected, and indeed beloved, by many of those who differed from him. But on questions of principle Leo entirely confirmed the utterances of Gregory XVI and Pius IX, concerning which he wrote (Encyclical Immortale Dei, 1885): s

274 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY From these decisions of the Sovereign Pontiffs it must absolutely be admitted that the origin of public power must be attributed to God and not to the multitude; that the right of rebellion is repugnant to reason; that it is not permissible either to individuals or to societies either to omit to take into account religious duties or to treat different religions in the same way; that the unrestrained liberty of thinking and of publicly manifesting one's thoughts ought in no way to be placed among the rights of citizens, nor among matters worthy of favour and protection. And on the question of absolutism Leo XIII wrote in the Encyclical Quod apostolici, 1878: If it happens however that princes heedlessly go too far in the exercise of their power. Catholic teaching does not permit the individual to rebel on his own account against them, for fear that the tranquility of order may be more and more disturbed, and that society may receive still greater injury. And when the excess has got to the point when no further hope of safety appears to remain, Christian patience teaches that the remedy should be sought in merit and in urgent prayers to God. The successor of Leo XIII, Pius X, in his Encyclical Vehementer nos (1906) wrote concerning the nature of the Church: Scripture tells us, and the tradition of the Fathers confirms to us that the Church is the mystical body of Christ, a body governed by Pastors and Doctors, a society of men in the bosom of which chiefs are to be found who have full and perfect powers to govern, to teach and to judge. It results that this Church is in its essence an unequal society, that is to say a society embracing two categories of members, the Pastors and the flock; those who occupy a rank in the different degrees of the hierarchy, and the multitude of the faithful. And these categories are so distinct one from another that in the pastoral body alone reside the right and authority necessary to urge and to direct all the members towards the aim of the society; as for the multitude it has no other duties than those of allowing itself to be led, and like a docile flock of following its Pastors. It can hardly be questioned therefore that the general principles of the Roman Church harmonise far better with those of an absolute civil government than with a liberal one. Our own generation has seen for example that after the Italian Government had become absolutist it was able to enter into a close working arrangement with the Vatican (February n,

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1929), and thereby to put an end to a quarrel which had lasted for half a century. Two days after the signature of the respective treaty, the Pope was reported to have said with reference to his negotiations with Signor Mussolini: We must say that we were most generously helped by the other side. It may be that there was also needed a man such as Providence has caused us to meet, a man unaffected by the prejudices of the "Liberal School" (Address to a delegation from Milan University, February 13, 1929). Subsequent events in Abyssinia and elsewhere have proved how wholly accurate was His Holiness in describing Signor Mussolini as "a man unaffected by the prejudices of the Liberal School." The foregoing quotations from papal utterances, illustrating as they do the attitude of the Roman Church towards civil governments, may assist the reader to understand the somewhat paradoxical fact that those monarchs whose general principles would presumably cause them to be the most faithful followers of the papal policy, have occasionally experienced great friction in their relationships with the Holy See. For example Louis XIV in 1685, following the counsel of his clerical advisers, revoked the measures of toleration granted to Protestants by the Edict of Nantes (1598), and he afterwards subjected his Protestant subjects to exceedingly harsh treatment, prohibiting for example medical men to attend them in sickness. But simultaneously the King consistently nominated to vacant bishoprics ecclesiastics specially chosen for their disavowal of the extreme papal claims, and to these ecclesiastics the Pope with equal consistency refused to grant letters of institution. Hence it came about that at the time when the Pope was illuminating the Vatican in honour of the revocation of the edict (which revocation he described as "the finest act the King had ever performed") many dioceses of France were one by one being left unoccupied. In 1688 there were thirty-five sees awaiting bishops, and it was only in 1693 that the King finally decided to come to terms with the Papacy. The explanation is of course that Louis XIV was by nature a despot, and as a despot he could not on the one hand accept the principles of papal authority as laid down by Gregory VII and Innocent III, neither could he on the other hand tolerate the obvious desire of his Protestant subjects to conduct their religious affairs without interference on the part of the Crown.

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Another matter which strikes the notice of the student is the fact that, while the Roman Church itself is international, its government is Italian. As is of course well known, the College of Cardinals when electing a Sovereign Pontiff has full liberty of choice, and indeed in past centuries there have been many Popes of nationality other than Italian. But it is generally believed that public opinion in Italy would not in our day tolerate the idea of a non-Italian Pope, and in modern times we are compelled to think of the Pope as an Italian, having his seat of government in Italy, and surrounded by an immediate entourage of Italians. It is indeed noteworthy that the Syllabus of Pius IX contained the following "condemned proposition": 35. There is nothing to prevent a decree of a General Council, or the consensus of all nations, from transferring the Sovereign Pontificate from the Roman Bishop and from the town of Rome to another Bishop and another town. It appears therefore to be definitely implied that the papal office is absolutely identified with that of Bishop of Rome, and that not even the decree of a General Council nor the universal consensus of Christians would justify the conferring of the papal tiara on the Bishop of some other city. And when relationships between the kingdom of Italy and the Vatican are considered, attention is naturally drawn to the fact that the latter, by the Lateran Treaty of 1929, became the holder of Italian Government 5 per cent Bonds to the value of a thousand millions of lire and thereby acquired, apart from any other consideration, a very strong interest in the stability and prosperity of the Italian State. The foregoing observations naturally raise two questions which the reader may put to himself: (a) is it consistent with the gospel of Christ that one nation should be given, with respect to matters of religion, that special pre-eminence which Italy would acquire if the papal claims were generally acknowledged? and (b) if the former question be answered in the affirmative, has Italy any special claim to merit that preeminence? Concerning question (a) it may be suggested that it is usually believed by Christians that until the birth of Jesus the Jews occupied a very special position among the nations of the world, and were in a very particular sense the object of divine favour. At first glance therefore there would appear to be

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nothing illogical in the suggestion that under the new dispensation some other nation might acquire that special favour which the Jews are stated to have lost. On the other hand Paul would probably have demurred at accepting this doctrine, because he taught that in Christ there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free (Col. iii. n). Question (b] is obviously one which cannot be answered in a few words, but one observation can be placed before the reader. It is generally admitted that there are important points of divergence between the respective mental outlooks of the Italian and the Anglo-Saxon. Such divergence has for example been brought quite recently into prominence owing to Italian action in North Africa and in Spain. But it is easier to judge impartially of matters which are less recent, and which affect us less directly. Let us take, therefore, as another example the works of St. Alfonso Liguori, a writer, formerly at any rate, regarded by many English and French Catholics with marked distaste. Now notwithstanding the opposition to his teaching, St. Alfonso was consecrated bishop in 1762, was declared "Venerable" in 1796, was canonised in 1839 and obtained the supreme rank of "Doctor of the Church" in 1871. That the works of St. Alfonso are an expression of Italian mentality, and impress the average Englishman unfavourably, seems to be recognised to some extent by Cardinal Newman when he says (Apologia): S. Alfonso Liguori, it cannot be denied, lays down that an equivocation, that is a play upon words, in which one sense is taken by the speaker, and another sense intended by him for the hearer, is allowable if there is a just cause, that is in a special case, and may even be confirmed by oath. I shall give my opinion on this point as plainly as any Protestant can wish; and therefore I avow at once that in this department of morality, much as I admire the high points of the Italian character, I like the English character better; but in saying so I am not, as will be seen, saying anything disrespectful to S. Alfonso, who was a lover of truth and whose intercession I trust I shall not lose, though on the matter under consideration, I follow other guidance in preference to his. And concerning the teaching of St. Alfonso and other Italian writers with reference to the Blessed Virgin Mary, Cardinal Newman tells us in the same work:

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Such passages . . . were not acceptable to every part of the Catholic world. . . . Such devotional manifestations in honour of Our Lady . . . are suitable for Italy but they are not suitable for England. Should the reader care to follow this matter up and to study for himself the writings of St. Alfonso, he is likely to come to the conclusion that the writings have in actual practice done considerable harm; that they are emphatically a product of the Italian mind; and that the extraordinary honour extended to the author by successive Popes can be explained at least in part by the fact that the Popes themselves were Italians, and therefore more able than an Englishman would be to appreciate and to sympathise with the subtleties of the Saint's reasoning. If we were to say: "The English mental outlook is superior to the Italian," the statement would be certainly discourteous and quite possibly untrue. But it can hardly be doubted that a healthy English mind tends to emphasise an aspect of truth which the Italian mind tends to overlook, and consequently the world would be morally far poorer if it were generally admitted that there existed one supreme and irresponsible human arbiter on all questions of morality, and that this arbiter was an Italian. It now seems desirable to say something about the general manner in which Catholics and Protestants respectively find themselves compelled to deal with the various questions in dispute between them. An impartial observer who had never given the matter any very serious consideration, might be inclined to say that as each side had an interest in putting forward its own case in the most attractive manner possible, a certain perversion of the facts was just as likely to be made by the one as by the other. But it will nevertheless be seen that a distinction does in point of fact exist; and this distinction will be exhibited more clearly by means of one or two illustrations. Let us suppose that our impartial enquirer studies the public utterances of successive Popes during for example the last century, and compares them with the utterances of some prominent non-Roman ecclesiastics: say for example successive Archbishops of Canterbury throughout the same period. Now if the result of such comparison were wholly favourable to the papal cause, or in other words if the successive Popes were clearly seen to excel the Archbishops in bringing forth in their

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pronouncements the fruits of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance— the Protestant controversialist would not necessarily be disconcerted at the discovery. We can indeed imagine him replying somewhat as follows: The Popes are chosen, under circumstances of extraordinary solemnity, by mechanism carefully designed to ensure that the successful candidate is a man of quite outstanding aptitude for his exalted office. On the other hand the election of the Archbishops of Canterbury is known to be a mere fiction; they are really appointed by the Crown, and in actual practice the general public never knows exactly why or how they are chosen. So if it can be proved that they are men of no great suitability for their posts, one can only reply that it is indeed surprising that they are not worse than they are. But all this does not bear directly on the Protestant case against the Papacy, which case is not necessarily that modern Popes are not spiritually minded and able men, but rather that they both preach false doctrine and improperly claim to be Vice-Regents of God on earth. But if the impartial enquirer, as the result of his study, had formed a wholly contrary view, and had decided that the Archbishops of Canterbury appeared to bring forth the fruits of the Spirit to a greater degree than did the Popes, the conclusion w7ould be exceedingly damaging to the papal claims. According to the Roman view any post-Reformation Archbishop of Canterbury is an arch-enemy of the Holy and Immaculate Bride of Christ, outside of which there is no salvation, and such Archbishop is cut off from any sacramental means of grace, and consequently prevented from receiving into his corporal and spiritual being that body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus which the humblest members of the true Church may receive at the hands of any ordained priest. In consequence, while Roman theories by no means exclude the possibility of certain Popes being incapable and indeed wicked men, and of certain Protestant divines being both capable and spiritually minded, the papal apologist could hardly contemplate the possibility of a series of heretical Archbishops of Canterbury, throughout a long term of years, bringing forth the fruits of the Spirit in greater abundance than the contemporary occupants of the throne of St. Peter brought forth such fruits.

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It will be seen therefore that it happens that the Roman controversialist is at a disadvantage with respect to his Protestant opponent in that the former, in order fully to make out his case, has to prove so much more than has the latter. The Protestant has no hesitation in admitting that God has left man without any visible guide with respect to a vast number of important matters; the Catholic on the other hand has formed a general theory, of which the most striking feature is that this world is subjected to the Pope as the Vice-Regent of God (qui Dei et Domini nostri Jesu Christi vices gerit in terris) and that the Pope is an infallible source of divine truth. In consequence all historical facts have to be examined by the Catholic in the light of this theory, and hence there is necessarily a great temptation for him, when he finds that the theory does not readily harmonise with the facts, to adjust the latter to the former. Some Roman Catholic writers seem to have appreciated this difficulty, and have attempted to meet it by what seems to be practically discouraging the free study of Church History. Thus Cardinal Manning in his Temporal Mission calls the appeal to Scripture and antiquity "essentially rationalistic," and further on in the same work he says: "The appeal to antiquity" (i.e. the appeal behind the present teaching of the Church) "is both a treason and a heresy. . . . I may say in strict truth that the Church has no antiquity. It rests upon its own supernatural and perpetual consciousness. . . . The only divine evidence to us of what was primitive is the witness and voice of the Church at this hour." Clearly however it would be quite impossible for Cardinal Manning or anyone else to hope that the public generally would refrain from studying history for fear of discovering facts which fail to harmonise with preconceived theories. Hence it has come about that a certain adjustment of the facts by controversialists has indeed been made. A few examples will be given of incidents concerning which controversy has taken place. At the beginning of the seventeenth century a story was put into circulation to the effect that Matthew Parker, who became Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury under Queen Elizabeth in 1559, was never consecrated, or rather that his only consecration took place at a tavern called the "Nag's Head," where one "Scory, an apostate monk" touched his head with a Bible

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and bade him receive power to preach the word of God. Now it so happens that the contemporary records of the consecration of Parker are exceptionally ample and convincing, and there is no reasonable doubt that the ceremony really took place in the manner prescribed by English ecclesiastical law. The only vestige of truth that can be found in the legend is the fact that one of the consecrating bishops was in fact named Scory. But let us suppose that the contrary had been the case, and that the so-called "Nag's Head fable" had been true. The result would of course have been unfavourable to Protestantism, but nevertheless the position of the great bulk of Protestant thinkers would have been but little affected thereby. They would reply somewhat as follows: We take our stand on the belief that in the first century of our era certain supernormal events took place, and that these events had the effect (a) of modifying profoundly the relationships between God and man, and (b) of setting up a certain code of morality. It is therefore the duty of the modern Christian (a) to take advantage of the Way laid open nineteen centuries ago, by which Way he can approach the Father, and (b) to act in accordance with the code propagated by Jesus. This is our religion, and nothing that could possibly have happened in the time of Queen Elizabeth can conceivably modify it. Let us now take an allegation made against the Roman position. The Council of Constantinople of 680 anathematised Pope Honorius I for heresy; the then reigning Pope (Agathus) was represented at the Council, and his successor (Leo II) explicitly approved of its sentence. Now it is clear that by the very nature of the standpoints of the contending parties, it is impossible that any fact could be adduced as damaging to the Protestant position as is the condemnation of Honorius I to the Papal claims to infallibility. We are not surprised therefore to find that after the sixteenth century the Roman Breviaries cease to mention this condemnation. A Breviary dated 1520 contains the entry (under the date of June 28th): In which synod were condemned Sergius, Cyrus, Honorius, Pyrrhus, Paul and Peter . . . who asserted and proclaimed one will and operation in our Lord Jesus Christ. In modern Roman Breviaries (under the heading June 28th) one reads the following: In this Council were condemned Cyrus, Sergius and Pyrrhus, who preached only one

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will and operation in Christ. It is clear therefore that in this respect the record of the facts is adjusted to fit the theory. To the foregoing it may quite conceivably be replied that the Protestant controversialists also have every interest in presenting their case in the most favourable light possible, and hence it would be very unfair to assume that one of the two sides has a monopoly of misrepresentation. But the fundamental difference between the two sides is, as has already been pointed out, very considerable. And this difference will perhaps be made clearer if we remember that such men as Philip II of Spain, Louis XIV and Napoleon I of France and William II of Germany have all in turn been intensely unpopular among the English public, but nevertheless any reputable modern historian may be trusted to write concerning any one of the four with at least something approaching to impartiality. But if a historian accepts as a basic assumption the allegation that the successive Popes are Vice-Regents of God on earth, and are in a very special sense the chosen vehicles and mouthpieces of the Holy Spirit, then ex hypothesi there cannot be any question of impartiality. Indeed, if we accept the Roman position, impartiality instead of being a virtue seems to be—to use the language already quoted of Cardinal Manning anent appeals to antiquity—"at once a treason and a heresy." A further matter concerning which there is a marked contrast between the teaching of modern Protestantism and that of Roman Catholicism is the doctrine of eternal punishment. From the earliest times Christians have uniformly adopted the starting-point that all men are sinners (Rom. iii. 9 and 23). The life and death of Jesus, however, were held to afford the sinner a means of escape from the punishment of his sins; but it was simultaneously taught that the Church possessed the Keys of Heaven, and consequently the individual benefited or otherwise from the death of Christ according as to whether or no he died reconciled to the Church. In the latter event he was doomed to an endless future of never-ceasing torment. From a strictly legal point of view it is easy to argue that such torment is a punishment for sin, but nevertheless, seeing that all men, good and bad, are held to have incurred the Divine wrath, it seems inevitable that the faithful should have come to regard suffering in the next world as a punishment for having failed to become reconciled to the Church. And as it is taught that the first essential in order to effect such reconciliation is the

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acceptance of the Church's dogmatic teaching, it has often been said that the result of the system was to substitute the creed for the ten commandments. That is to say that while no one could truthfully allege that the Church actually ceased to preach Christian morality, nevertheless such morality came in practice to be regarded as of vastly less importance than the acceptance of Catholic dogma and the maintenance of an attitude favourable to the claims of Rome. It will be seen therefore that while there is much difference of opinion as to whether or no the doctrine of the eternal torture of the damned is true, there can be no doubt whatever that it is a doctrine highly advantageous to the position of the Roman Church. At the time of the Reformation, Protestant divines still continued to hold strenuously to the same doctrine: they did not of course teach that sinners would be eternally damned for not being reconciled to Rome, but they consistently taught that damnation would result from rejection of the dogmas of Christianity as accepted by Protestant bodies. So they continued to take their stand on the Athanasian Creed, and to insist that it is necessary to everlasting salvation that he that would be saved believe rightly the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. But as and when Protestantism came to find itself faced with rationalism, and had to submit its teachings to the light of human reason, it found itself gradually compelled to preach two propositions: (a) God is a just and righteous Judge, and (b) in so far as is consistent with the former proposition, God is merciful. And it was felt that these propositions were incompatible with the doctrine of eternal punishment, because, even supposing that the effect of sin is really much more terrible than we human beings can conceive, it is hardly reasonable to think that any one man can in a single lifetime commit sins sufficiently atrocious to merit eternal torture as an expiation. It has consequently come about that probably the majority of modern Protestant divines either repudiate altogether the doctrine of everlasting damnation, or at least let it drop into the background. Those theologians who continue to teach this doctrine are sometimes actuated by wholly laudable motives, i.e. they conscientiously believe the teaching to be true, and they think that its rejection on the part of Christians generally would entail an enormous increase of wickedness in this world and of consequent damnation in the world to come. Sometimes however such theologians appear to outsiders to be actuated by less worthy motives—an overwhelming desire for authority

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and control over the minds of men, coupled with a certain satisfaction at the thought of the terrible fate about to befall those of whose conduct they disapprove, or, more especially, from whose doctrinal views they differ. In particular the Church of Rome, which consistently maintains its policy of exacting obedience rather than of appealing to reason, lays special emphasis on the doctrine of the everlasting duration of punishment. An interesting example of such emphasis is quoted by Miss Betham-Edwards in her study of that great liberal Catholic theologian Jean Reynaud (1806-1863). She tells us: With regard to Jean Reynaud's condemnation of the theory of eternal punishment, the conclave of bishops at Perigueux decreed as follows:— As regards the doctrine which the author puts especially forward with respect to the punishment of the wicked after death, we condemn it likewise, we repel it, and we have it particularly in horror, because it is infinitely pernicious. In truth the divine love is only too often stifled in the heart of man under the weight of passions; what would happen if a hypocritically flattering doctrine were to come to destroy fear, and to offer to the generation of the perverted a God under whose government vice having attained liberty would be allowed full scope (les vices qffranchis se mettraient a raise) ? But the closing sentence shows best the temper of the bishops:— Finally we declare that even if, not merely a man or the whole world but, to imagine the impossible, an angel from heaven were to teach a contrary doctrine, our own should remain for all Christians the object of a wholly firm and entirely immutable faith. If anyone act otherwise, let him know that he cuts himself off from the Catholic faith, and that he has incurred those same eternal penalties the existence of which he denies.

The obvious difficulty of presenting to the faithful this truly awful doctrine, while at the same time teaching the justice and the love of the Almighty Father, has occasioned a curious air of unreality in such popular devotions as deal with the fate of the wicked. Thus for example that great saint, Francisco Xavier (1506-1552), wrote a hymn 0 Deus, ego amo te, of which two verses are here given:—

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My God, I love thee; not because I hope for heaven thereby, Nor yet because who love thee not Are lost eternally. Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ, Should I not love thee well, Not for the sake of winning heaven, Or of escaping hell? This hymn finds a place in more than one well-known collection intended for the use of non-Catholics, and frequently forms a part of evangelical missionary services. But if anyone takes the trouble to paraphrase the first verse he can hardly fail to be struck by the extraordinary incongruity of addressing the Deity with an expression of disinterested affection, reminding the Almighty at the same time that a cessation of such affection would entail everlasting punishment. We have quoted above the words of the Athanasian Creed: "it is necessary to everlasting salvation that he that wrould be saved believe rightly the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ." As this statement may be said to mark the point where traditional Christianity definitely breaks away from other religions, it may be desirable further to examine the words in question. It will be seen that they assume the truth of three propositions: (a) In the first century of the Christian era certain very remarkable occurrences took place in Palestine, the chief actor therein being a public preacher named Jesus of Nazareth. (b) Jesus was not merely perfect man, but was also perfect God, being in fact the second Person of the Blessed Trinity. In him the divine and human natures were united in one Person. The result of this union, or Incarnation of God in man, is of the very highest importance for us members of the human race, because Jesus by his death "hath destroyed death and by his rising again hath restored to us everlasting life." (c) In order however that the individual may attain everlasting life and may otherwise benefit by the incarnation, death and resurrection of Jesus, it is necessary that he believe the accuracy of proposition

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(b), it being of course clear that proposition (a) presents no great difficulty. It is as regards proposition (c) that traditional Christian teaching clashes so notably with twentieth-century thought. Thinking men and women increasingly find it hard to believe that their eternal salvation can depend on their right interpretation of facts alleged to have occurred in Asia Minor nearly two thousand years ago. If we find it intensely difficult to form a correct judgment as to the causes and responsibilities of the Great War, an event still fresh in the memories of most of us, how can we possibly be sure of appreciating rightly the existing evidence relative to events which took place in Palestine in the third decade of our era? We are taught that the Ufe and death of Jesus brought about a new relationship between God and man, and as it were created a new remedy for the spiritual illnesses of mankind. Is it reasonable to suppose that a right comprehension of the nature of this remedy is necessary for its efficacy? Analogy with the material world would prompt us to reply in the negative. For example, scientists have discovered that certain substances found in different foodstuffs are necessary for maintaining our bodily health. But no one could possibly think that an accurate scientific knowledge as to the nature and effect of vitamins is necessary to keep a man in reasonably good physical condition. And it is at least possible that there is some analogy between our spiritual health and our bodily health. If it be true that the human race became estranged from God, and if reunion with God be our aim and goal, and if such reunion has been facilitated in some manner transcending human intelligence by the earthly mission of Jesus, then it is prima facie reasonable to hope that the benefits thereby accruing can be enjoyed by those who earnestly desire reunion with God, but who for one reason or other have erroneous ideas, or even no ideas at all, about such mission. We remark that Peter, shortly after the Ascension, is reported to have said of Jesus: "Neither is there salvation in any other; for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved" (Acts iv. 12). But the vision subsequently granted to him at Joppa profoundly modified his exclusiveness, and led him to realise that God is indeed the Father of all men. We find that he immediately afterwards told Cornelius: "Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons, but in every nation he that feareth him and worketh

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righteousness is accepted with him" (Acts x. 34, 35). And again we observe that Paul, writing to Timothy (i. iv. 10), says that God is the Saviour of all men, especially of those that believe. This seems to show unequivocally that Paul did not consider the acceptance of dogma as essential to salvation. It is of course true that there are certain passages (e.g. Gal. iii. 22) which have been adduced to prove the contrary. This question has already been touched on (vide p. 121) but at the risk of appearing to go over the same ground a second time, it may be well to observe that in those passages of the Epistles and Gospels in which "belief" seems to be stressed as an essential for salvation, it seems not unlikely that the authors' meaning may have been something like what a physician has in mind when he says to a patient: "I can assure you that if you will only have confidence in me, you will get well." Here the physician obviously means that if the patient's confidence be sufficient to induce him to carry out faithfully the treatment indicated, he is almost certain to get well. It is not suggested that the patient will be cured by merely saying to himself: "Dr. Blank is a very able practitioner." And in the same way, the phrase "to have faith in Jesus" may be reasonably interpreted to mean "to adopt the method of Jesus, as set forth in the Gospels and as further explained and elaborated in the Pauline Epistles." It has already been remarked that the Epistle to the Hebrews contains passages which have been interpreted, especially by Protestants, in a manner out of harmony with the teaching of other Christian writers. For example the text Without faith it is impossible to please (God) (Heb. xi. 6) is a very favourite one with a certain type of preacher. But if the quotation be continued, we read: For he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him. It appears that what is here meant by faith is, as already suggested, a conscious effort on the part of the individual to raise his being towards God, and the author assures us that God rewards those who so seek him. It will be observed that such faith presupposes a belief in the existence of the Deity, but does not necessarily presuppose any specific dogmatical tenets as to the Divine Nature. And the writer of the Epistles to the Hebrews does not, in the passage in question, tell us that in order to obtain the desired reward any conditions are necessary other than that man should firstly believe in God's existence and secondly diligently seek him.

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As a contrast to the foregoing it may be well to call attention to Faber's well-known hymn, of which the last verse is as follows: Jesus is God: let sorrow come And pain and every ill, All are worth while, for all are means His glory to fulfil; Worth while a thousand years of woe To speak one little word, If by that "I believe" we own The Godhead of our Lord.

The above lines may be compared with the words of Jesus himself: Not every one that saith unto me, "Lord, Lord" shall enter into the Kingdom of Heaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven (Matt. vii. 21). We now approach the conclusion to which the considerations set forth in the foregoing pages appear to lead. In the first few centuries of our era Christianity was propagated among men, for the most part very uneducated, of widely different races, languages and religions. It was therefore humanly speaking impossible that it could have performed its function of disciplining men's souls unless it had presented its teaching in definite dogmatic form, the preacher saying in effect: What you have hitherto believed is wrong: I affirm this to be right: Tour duty is to accept as true what I tell you. Or, as St. Remi expressed it when baptising Clovis: Bow thy head: adore what thou hast burnt, and burn what thou hast adored. But in the twentieth century the standard of culture among the more civilised nations is wholly different from what it was in the early centuries of Christianity. There are to-day thousands of people who are unable to believe that the New Testament ought to be interpreted and accepted in a certain traditional manner, and that if they fail so to interpret and to accept it, God is no longer their Father and they are definitely cut off from the spiritually living. It is to such that the present treatise is primarily addressed. To them it is suggested that the Gospels and Pauline Epistles do not profess to give us in clear and unequivocal language exact information as to the nature of the personality of Jesus. And it is indeed difficult to believe that such exact information can be necessary to men's happiness in the world to come. But the New Testament does give its readers a vast amount of instruction as to the method of Jesus, and it

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is this method that the disciple is called upon to follow. And moreover, if and when the disciple takes up his cross and follows Jesus, he may reasonably be encouraged to do so in the conviction that God is his Father, and that his sonship is not necessarily lost on account of any erroneous ideas which he may hold either as to the nature of the founder of Christianity, or as to the status of any living ecclesiastic resident in Rome or elsewhere. It may be of interest to study the words of a very popular hymn commencing 0 little town of Bethlehem, by Bishop Phillips Brooks. TWTO extracts are subjoined: So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of his heaven. No ear may hear his coming; But in this world of sin, Where meek souls will receive him, still The dear Christ enters in. O holy Child of Bethlehem, Descend to us, we pray; Cast out our sin, and enter in, Be born in us to-day. We hear the Christmas Angels The great glad tidings tell: O come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Emmanuel. Examining the above lines in the light of traditional Christianity, we naturally conclude that the author accepted two basic propositions: (a) Christ was born as a human being in Bethlehem in or about B.C. 4; and (b) the spiritual progress of each individual soul depends upon its capacity for enabling Christ to be born and to develop within itself. These two propositions are of very different natures; the former is a part of exoteric Christianity, and is taught freely to all comers; the latter may in a sense be called semi-esoteric Christianity, because, although no secret is made about the doctrine, nevertheless it is in actual practice not considered suitable for explaining to children and to prospective converts. It is noteworthy that the two propositions are wholly independent in the sense that theoretically it is possible that either might be true and the other false. It may possibly assist us to appreciate the relationship between the two propositions if T

ago INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY we recall to mind the "alabaster box of ointment of spikenard very precious" of which we read in Mark's Gospel. Such doctrine as directly affects the life of the human soul and its communion with the Deity may be compared to the "very precious spikenard." On the other hand such doctrine as that set forth in what we have called proposition (a) may be compared to the alabaster box containing the ointment. The box without its contents would be a useless ornament: the ointment without a suitable receptacle could not be conveniently transmitted from one person to another, and would quickly deteriorate. There is here an analogy, albeit incomplete, with the Christian faith. If the early apostles and missionaries had taught the birth of the Christ Spirit within their hearers, and had made such teaching the principal point of their message to mankind, then their doctrine would have been too similar to Neo-Platonism and other popular philosophies to permit of its being considered as a unique revelation. (We have already seen, on p. 187, that Augustine abandoned NeoPlatonism for Christianity partly because the latter offered him a "religious founder" while the former did not.) But on the other hand it would seem that the weakness of traditional Christianity has been the excessive drawing of attention to the alabaster box rather than to the ointment contained therein. It is easy to teach children to repeat the statement that Jesus Christ was conceived of the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary, but intensely difficult to explain to them how the indwelling of the Christ Spirit may possibly affect their individual souls. So from generation to generation the difficulty has been shelved, and while time and care have been lavished on the study of the less important words and acts of Jesus, the fundamental truths as to union with God through Christ have been too often allowed to drop into the background. In this way traditional Christianity has unhappily fallen short of its divine mission, with the effect that is only too familiar to us. The above observations raise a very pertinent enquiry: if it be admitted that a Deity exists, and that this Deity yearns for complete union with each individual human soul, and if such union may be brought about by man availing himself of the aid of the Divine Christ Spirit, then what need was there for the Passion of Jesus, or indeed what essential difference is there between the system taught by Paul and that taught by Plotinus? The preceding pages of this treatise will

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possibly have prepared the reader for the difficulty of answering these questions. The accounts we possess of the life and work of Jesus were compiled, as we have already seen, long after the event by writers who did not as a rule possess the theological temperament, and who did not give us their own deductions from the facts they related. We also notice the disinclination of Paul to comment on the teaching, parables and miracles of Jesus, just as we similarly notice the disinclination of early Christians to make pictorial representations of any of the scenes of the Passion of Jesus, notwithstanding the fact that they freely depicted him both as a thaumaturge and also in an ideal manner: e.g. as the Good Shepherd. But while the difficulties of the subject are great, it seems to be something more than a mere tenable hypothesis that in the fullness of time the Almighty Father specially chose one human being, who on account of his superlative merits became the vehicle of the Christ Spirit, and to borrow the language of Paul of Samosata, coalesced with God so as to admit of no divorce from him, but for all ages to retain one and the same will and activity with him, an activity perpetually at work in the manifestation of God. And there seems nothing unreasonable in the belief that as a result of the complete union between God and man, effected in the person of Jesus, the union (albeit less complete) between other human beings and God became in some transcendental manner greatly facilitated. It must of course be admitted that we can hardly suppose that an inhabitant of Athens living in B.C. 200 was necessarily precluded from becoming a Son of God, but that as a result of the mission of Jesus an Athenian living four centuries later did in fact possess that potential privilege. But what we know about even the best of the ancient religions leads us to infer that the doctrine as to union with God was jealously kept secret from the mass of humanity, and initiation was an arduous and painful process which only a very small proportion of even "the wise and prudent" could hope to pass through. And it is surely not unreasonable to believe that after one specially chosen human being had by divine ordinance and by his own superlative merits attained perfect union with the Godhead, the way for the rest of humanity was laid more open; the time came when whosoever had ears to hear was enabled to hear, when it might be said

292 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY figuratively that the veil of the Temple was rent in twain, and when all who desired to worship the Father were freed from the necessity of undergoing the* training of the Mystery Schools and became encouraged to worship in spirit and in truth. Rudolf Steiner, in one of his essays (Human Conscience) puts forward a proposition harmonising with the foregoing. He says: In order that man should find God-nature in his inner soul it was necessary that Christ should enter into the development of humanity as an external historical event. If Christ, the Deity, had not been present in the human body of Jesus of Nazareth; if he had not appeared as the conqueror of death in the Mystery of Golgotha—man would never have been able to understand the indwelling of the Deity in the inner soul. To assert that man could understand the Divine inner penetration without the external historical Christ Jesus, is equivalent to claiming that we could have eyes though there were no sun in the world. As against the one-sided view of philosophers that the origin of light must be sought in the eyes, since light cannot be perceived without eyes, we must ever put forward Goethe's statement that the eye is "created through light for light." If no sun were to enlighten space, no eyes could have been formed out of the human organism. The eyes are created by light and, without the sun, there would be no eyes to perceive. No eye is capable of perceiving the sun without having first received from the sun the power of perception. In the same way there can be no inner understanding and knowledge of Christ-nature without an external Christ-impulse. As the sun in the Cosmos is to sight, so is the historical Christ Jesus to that which we call the permeation with God-nature in ourselves. Steiner arrived at the above conclusions through what he called "spiritual science," that is to say he believed that he acquired his knowledge when his consciousness was on a higher plane, and he was thus enabled to perceive truths actually hidden from the average human being. Obviously the appeal of such statements can hardly be to strict logic. But nevertheless many earnest enquirers have been led to feel that the view of the mission of Christ as above set forth harmonises as no other theory harmonises with scientific knowledge and with the history of mankind, as well as appealing to all that is most sacred and profound in human consciousness. In studying the Christianity of our own day, we ought not to forget that, like everything else, it is the net result of all

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the forces to which it has been subjected since its inception. In so far as these forces have been favourable to its right development, we reap the advantage; in so far as they have been unfavourable, we inevitably suffer the consequences. And it so happens that the methods now adopted in Russia to propagate Bolshevism as a militant creed enable us to appreciate, far better than the last generation could have done, the general lines on which medieval Christianity was imposed on the bulk of the people. Lenin and his colleagues have practically laid down a code of dogmas based on certain affirmations with respect to mankind and to the universe in general; and current Russian writers on history, sociology and philosophy are compelled to adapt their theories to the official creed. A distinguished Russian professor, exiled from his own country, tells us that: Creative philosophical thought cannot flourish in such an environment, and it amply accounts for the shuffling, the endless repetition, the monotony, the limitedness of Soviet philosophy, its petty sophistries, the reciprocal accusations and denunciations, the fundamental necessity of lying; neither talent nor genius can make any headway (Nicolas Berdyaev: from an essay contributed to Questions Disputees, 1933). The foregoing language may, at least in part, be applied to medieval Western Christianity, to the Church of Innocent III and of Torquemada; and it would seem that the initial error, both in Russia and in Western Europe, has been the demand that all individuals shall think alike, and it is from the results of this initial error that we to-day are suffering. It has not always been remembered that the Christian Church is a community of believers striving to attain atonement with God through his Christ Spirit: unquestionably members of this community should tend to think on the same general lines concerning religious matters, they should hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace and of righteousness of life, but enforced unity of thought, so destructive of personality and of intellectual advancement, is in no way a desirable characteristic of the Church of Christ. In conclusion permission may be asked to remind the reader that the present treatise is a mere Introduction to the Study of Christianity, and the author in no way claims to have written

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a History. Many of the subjects herein dealt with are in the highest degree controversial, and the utmost that the author can hope is that a train of thought may be initiated in the reader's mind, assisting him in some measure to arrive at his own conclusions thereon.

APPENDIX A

EXTRACTS FROM BHAGAVAD GHITA, GIVEN FOR SAKE OF COMPARISON WITH THE TEACHING OF THE JOHANNINE DISCOURSES ALL these sacrifices of so many kinds are displayed in the sight of God; know that they all spring from action, and, comprehending this, thou shalt obtain an eternal release. O harasser of thy foes, the sacrifice through spiritual knowledge is superior to sacrifice made with material things; every action without exception is comprehended in spiritual knowledge, O son of Pritha. Seek this wisdom by doing service, by strong search, by questions, and by humility; the wise who see the truth will communicate it unto thee, and knowing which thou shalt never again fall into error, O son of Bharata. By this knowledge thou shalt see all things and creatures whatsoever in thyself and then in me. Even if thou wert the greatest of all sinners, thou shalt be able to cross over all sins in the bark of spiritual knowledge. Chapter IV. I am the cause, I am the production and the dissolution of the whole universe. There is none superior to me, O conqueror of wealth, and all things hang on me as precious gems upon a string. I am the taste in water, O son of Kunti, the light in the sun and moon, the mystic syllable OM in all the Vedas, sound in space, the masculine essence in men, the sweet smell in the earth, and the brightness in the fire. In all creatures I am the life, and the power of concentration in those whose minds are on the spirit. Know me, O son of Pritha, as the eternal seed of all creatures. I am the wisdom of the wise and the strength of the strong. Chapter VII. I am the goal, the Comforter, the Lord, the Witness, the restingplace, the asylum and the Friend; I am the origin and the dissolution, the receptacle, the storehouse, and the eternal seed. I cause light and heat and rain; I now draw in and now let forth; I am death and immortality; I am the cause unseen and the visible effect. Chapter IX. I am the same to all creatures; I know not hatred nor favour; but those who serve me with love dwell in me and I in them. Even if the man of most evil ways worship me with exclusive devotion,

296 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY he is to be considered as righteous, for he hath judged aright. Such a man soon becometh of a righteous soul and obtaineth perpetual happiness. Chapter IX. Having obtained this finite, joyless world, worship me. Serve me, fix heart and mind on me, be my servant, my adorer, prostrate thyself before me, and thus, united unto me, at rest, thou shalt go unto me. Chapter IX. For those who worship me, renouncing in me all their actions, regarding me as the supreme goal and meditating on me alone, if their thoughts are turned to me, O son of Pritha, I presently become the saviour from this ocean of incarnations and death. Place, then, thy heart on me, penetrate me with thy understanding, and thou shalt without doubt hereafter dwell in me. But if thou shouldst be unable at once steadfastly to fix thy heart and mind on me, strive then, O Dhananjaya, to find me by constant practice in devotion. If after constant practice, thou art still unable, follow me by actions performed for me; for by doing works for me thou shalt attain perfection. But if thou art unequal even to this, then, being selfrestrained, place all thy works, failures and successes alike, on me, abandoning in me the fruit of every action. Chapter XII.

APPENDIX B SUFFERING AND SHAME AS FACTORS IN SPIRITUAL DEVELOPMENT

(P. 92) MANY Christian authors have emphasised the shame and humiliation experienced by Jesus on the occasion of his Passion, but have not always remembered that shame and humiliation formed part of at least some of the ancient mysteries wherein the neophyte was perfected in spiritual knowledge. The following illuminating quotation is from an article by Mr. Cecil Harwood in Anthroposophy for Easter 1930: At certain Dionysian Mysteries it was the custom for the procession of those who were to become the Initiates (reAercu) of the gods to be subjected on the way to a ceremonial cursing and reviling by the lookers-on. The meaning of such a custom is not clear, except perhaps to those who try to experience in imagination the effect of such a reviling on the neophyte as he advanced to the temple. It was surely to strengthen in him the feeling that every man's hand was against him, that he must be strong in the lonely mysteries of his own ego which he was now seeking to fulfil. Such a feeling of the effect of this reviling can only be strengthened and deepened by the contemplation of the life of the Christ. He too was reviled, and forsaken even of God, and, at the last, he uttered the word which the Gospel writer took from the old Mystery language (reteXearai)—the Mystery is fulfilled.

APPENDIX C THE RELIGION OF THE ALBIGENSES IT is stated in the text (p. 214) that such knowledge as we possess of the tenets of the Albigenses is almost exclusively derived from their adversaries. The reader may be interested in examining a typical example of the statements made by orthodox writers concerning this body. An article attributed to the Benedictine Abbot Dom Butler, and contributed to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, contains the following: The Albigenses have received much sympathy, as being a kind of pre-Reformation Protestants; but it is now recognised that their tenets were an extreme form of Manichaeism. They believed in the existence of two gods, a good (whose son was Christ) and an evil (whose son was Satan); matter is the creation of the evil principle, and therefore essentially evil; and the greatest of all sins is sexual intercourse, even in marriage; sinful also is the possession of material goods, and the eating of flesh meat, and many other things. So great was the abhorrence of matter that some even thought it an act of religion to commit suicide by voluntary starvation, or to starve children to death. . . . Such tenets were destructive not only of Catholicism but of Christianity of any kind, and of civil society itself. . . . In 1208, after the murder of a papal legate, Innocent III called on the Christian princes to suppress the Albigensian heresy by force of arms, and for seven years the south of France was devastated by one of the most bloodthirsty wars in history, the Albigenses being slaughtered by thousands and their property confiscated wholesale. Two points especially strike the reader, the first of these being the inherent improbability of several of the above statements. Why should it be necessary to engage for seven years in "one of the most bloodthirsty wars in history" in order to confiscate the property of people who hold the possession of material goods to be sinful? And how could people who hold sexual intercourse, even in marriage, to be the greatest of all sins, survive in the struggle for life, and continue to be for several centuries the object of an extremely violent, if possibly ntermittent persecution, on the part of the orthodox Chris-

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tians? The obvious inference is that Dom Butler has represented the Albigenses in general as inculcating a degree of asceticism which could hardly have been attempted by more than a very few exceptional members of the inner circle of the body (Cathari or perfecti). The second point which strikes us is that what Dom Butler says about the Albigenses sounds so very much like what a hostile and not wholly well-informed critic might be expected to say about the Catholic regular clergy. The great religious orders, male and female (excluding however the tertiary orders), owing obedience to Rome, prohibit their individual members from owning personal property, in which indeed they follow the example of the early Christian Church. They also prohibit marriage, and this prohibition applies to the Roman Catholic secular clergy. All of them forbid the use of flesh meat throughout certain seasons of the year, and some indeed (e.g. the Minims) permanently exclude from their diet such articles as meat, eggs, milk, butter and cheese. It is true that we do not hear of Catholic ascetics deliberately starving themselves to death, but we can hardly doubt that the early death of many of them (e.g. St. Francis of Assisi) has been directly brought about by malnutrition. The remaining point raised by Dom Butler is that of the dualism alleged to be taught by the Albigenses. Here again it would seem that the case is not quite fairly presented. The most outstanding point of the teaching of the Albigenses, as against their Catholic opponents, appears to have been the rejection by the former of the doctrine of eternal punishment. The Albigenses believed in the ultimate extinction (at all events as far as the human race is concerned) of evil. The Catholics appear to preach that that great mass of humanity which does not ('submit itself to the authority of the Roman Pontiff" will throughout all eternity form part of the kingdom of Satan and remain permanently separated from God. While therefore it seems untrue to say that either the Catholics or the Albigenses acknowledged the existence of two opposing deities, the accusation is more comprehensible if brought against the former than against the latter.

1 We find that Albigenses were put to death for their faith as early as 1022. The great persecution preached by Innocent III commenced about 1209. In 1245 at Montsegur two hundred of the heretics were burned in one day. The Inquisition continued to take active steps to crush the heresy throughout the thirteenth century, and it was not until about 1330 that the persecution of the body came to an end owing to the practical extinction of its partisans.

APPENDIX D With reference to Page 216 PORTUGUESE EXPEDITIONS GONDIN DA FONSECA (Portugal no, Historia, 1932) devotes a chapter to the reproduction of interesting passages from Portuguese sources, specially selected as shedding light on the mentality which formerly stimulated expeditions to the East. For example, we have the following quotation from Joao de Lucena's Life of Father Francisco de Xavier, in which we are given details concerning a battle against Moslem seamen: When the soldiers of Jesus saw that it was clear that their Lord was fighting on their side, all of them called with one voice on his most unconquered name (por sen invitissimo nomi) and flung themselves on the enemy as if they had wished to conquer with the work and energy of their bare hands, seeing that they ran no risk, the artillery having already acted so efficiently. Four of our boats rammed six of the Moors', killing with musket-fire, with lance and with sword, some two thousand in half an hour. Those who remained, after some had fought with courage, fearing rather the fury of our men than a jump into the river, flung themselves therein, so that in a short time all the boats were surrounded with struggling soldiers. Of these, however, as they were getting tired of fighting, and half dead with fear, some burnt with powder and others badly wounded, none got out of the water alive. . . . The number of dead in the enemy's fleet was four thousand, for the greater part people of position (gente limpd), attendants of King Achem, according to the confession of fifteen of them who, after all was over, were captured in a proa and tortured. On our side four men were lost—one for every thousand—and indeed the mere work of killing so many people might have caused more (on our side) to die if the most holy name of Jesus had not constituted both strength and weapons for his warriors. (So do trabalho de matar tanta gente puderam morrer mais, se o santissimo nome de Jesus naofora aos seus guerrerios forgas e armas.)

APPENDIX E With reference to P. 257 TOLERATION TOWARDS NON-CATHOLIC BODIES IT is a remarkable fact that respect for its general principles has sometimes caused the Holy See to demand the non-toleration of Protestantism even in circumstances in which it would appear to outsiders that such demand was not merely useless but positively prejudicial to Catholic interests. We know for example that the French Catholic clergy suffered severely from the great outburst of anti-clericalism at the time of the Revolution of 1789. In 1809 Napoleon imprisoned Pius VII, who during his long captivity might have been expected to have been led to the conclusion that the Catholic clergy should attempt to carry out their sacred mission without too great friction with the (then dominant) anti-clerical party in France. But on the contrary we find that within two months of his release from Savona the Pope addressed (April 29, 1814) to the Bishop of Tours the Apostolic Letter Post tarn diuturnas, giving various instructions to the French Episcopate, and specially enjoining the bishops to make certain representations to Louis XVIII with reference to the proposed Constitution. The Pope, on the subject of liberty of conscience, wrote: A fresh subject of regret, with which our heart is still more bitterly afflicted, and which, we confess, causes us an extreme torment, grief and anguish, is the twenty-second article of the Constitution. Not only does it permit the liberty of cults and of conscience, to employ the actual terms of the article, but it promises support and protection to this liberty, and moreover to the IT inisters of what are called cults. There is indeed no need for a long dissertation, in addressing such a bishop as yourself, to make you see clearly how mortal is the wound with which ti:e Catholic faith in France is smitten by this article. By the fact that the liberty of all cults is established without distinction, truth is confounded with error, and the Holy and Immaculate Bride of Christ, the Church outside which there can be no safety, is placed in the same rank as the heretical sects and even as Jewish perfidy. In promising favour and support to the heretical sects and to their ministers, not only their persons but also their errors are tolerated and favoured. . . .

302 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY

His Holiness instructs the French bishops to seek audience of the King and to point out: what a fatal blow to the Catholic religion, what a peril for souls, what ruin for the faith, would be the result of his consent to the articles of the said Constitution. . . . Inform him on our behalf that we cannot persuade ourselves that he will wish to inaugurate his reign in causing to the Catholic faith a wound so deep as to be nigh incurable.

INDEX Abdul Walid of Cordoba (Averroes), 224 Abelard, P., 224 Acre, fall of, 139, 194,233 Acts of Apostles, 26, 33 Adhemar, Bp., 232 Agathus, Pope, 281 Agrippa, King, 91 Albigenses, 211, 214, 215, 267, 298299 Alcacer Kebir, 230, 234 Alcibiades, 60 Alexander, Bishop, 126, 133 Alexander II, 98, 231 Alfonso Liguori, S., 277, 278 Alva, Duke of, 245 Ambrose, St., 143, 225 Ammonius Saccas, 187 Anastasius, Creed of, 131 Andrew, St., 57 Angelus Silesius, see Scheffler, J. Antioch, Synod of, 132 Apelles, 119 Apocrypha, 149-150, 152, 254 Apolinare Nuova, S., at Ravenna, 144 Apollinaris, 129 Apollo, 108 Apostles, choice of, 39 Apostles' Creed, 117,118,125,127,132 Aquinas, Thomas, 220, 261, 272 Archelaus, 37 Areopagus, Paul's speech on, 96 Ariston, 108 Aristotle, commentaries on, 224 Arius and Arianism, 126, 127, 133, 134. 184 Arjuna, 74 Arnold, Matthew, 23, 90, 92, 155 Arnold, Thomas, 229 Assumption of S. Mary, 138 Athanasian Creed, 283, 285 Athanasius, 124, 126, 127, 133, 177 Attila, 191, 192 Augustine of Canterbury, St., 193 Augustine of Hippo, St., 176,178,179, 185,186, 190,202,224,225,290 Aurelian, Emperor, 125 Averroes, 224

Babylon, 169 Bacon, F., 15, 240 Bacon, Roger, 222-223 Bahia, 250 Barnabas, St., 86, 126, 156 Basilidians, in Basle, Council of, 257 Beauvais Cathedral, 217 "Benefit of Clergy," 216 Berdyaev, Nicolas, 293 Berengarius, 247 Bernard, St., 232, 265 Betham-Edwards, Miss, 284 Bethlehem, 18 Bhagavad Ghita, 24, 73, 295-296 Bible, the, 148 et seq. Birth-Stories, 102-111 Bishops, 156, 200 Boanerges, 39 Boleyn, Anne, 241 Bolsena, Miracle of, 220 Boniface VIII, Pope, 173, 248 Book of the Dead, 22

Boudinhon, Dr. Auguste, 172, 203, 272, 273 Brandt, Gerard, 228 Breath (Spirit), 38, 114, 116 Brooks, Bishop P., 289 Buddha, Gautama, 104, 135 Butler, Abbot, 298,299 Byron, Lord, 18 Callixtus I, 128, 144 Calvin, J., 249, 259 Camoes, Luiz de, 215, 216, 232 Campion, Edmund, 246 Cana of Galilee, 57, 58, no Candelaria Brotherhood, 223 Canon of New Testament, 150 et seq. Canon of Old Testament, 148 et seq. Canterbury, See of, 212, 241 Cardinals, College of, 206, 276 Caroline of Brunswick, 238 Carpaccio, 180 Carpus, 153 Catacombs, 142, 143, 144, 145, 180 Catalina, Queen, 240, 241 Catarina dei Medici, 241

3°4

INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY

Cathari, 214, 267, 299 Cumont, F., 183 Gather, Miss Willa, 17 Cyprian, St., 163, 164 Celibacy of Clergy, 79, 210, 222, Cyril, St., 138, 165, 190 250, 267 Cyrus, 25 Celsus, 176, 181, 182 Damasus, 203 Cerdo, 118 Dante, 185 Chalcedon, Council of, 136, 159 Darius, 16 Charlemagne, 201, 230 Darwin, C., 270 Charles V, 201, 240, 241, 257 David, 45 Charles X, 230 Deacons, 155, 156 Charles the Hammer (Martel), 194, Desmoulins, Camille, 122 201 Diogenes Laertius, 108, 109 Chillingworth, 254 Dionysian Mysteries, 297 Chrishna, 74, 104 Disciples, Commission to the, 65-66 Christians as a Jewish sect, 76-95 Divine Pymander, 23-24 Christmas Day, no Dollinger, Prof., 203 Chrysostom, St. John, 111, 162 Drugs, 260 Church of Rome, see Roman Duns Scotus, 223, 225 Catholic Church Ebionites, 95 Cathari, 214, 267, 299 Clement I (Clemens Romanus), 117 Eckhart, Meister, 260-263 Clement III (Guibert of Ravenna), Eddington, Sir A., 102 Edessa, 232 208 Egyptian Trinity, 114, 115 Clement IV, 222 Eleusinian mysteries, 60 Clement VII, 240, 242 Elijah, 255 Clement of Alexandria, in, 241 Elizabeth, Queen, 200, 244, 245, Clovis, 288 246, 247 Codex Sinaiticus, 16 Eons, 122, 131 Codex Vaticanus, 16 Epiphany, 38, 111—112 Coke, Chief Justice, 252 Essence, 127 Commodus, Emperor, 183 Essenes, 79 Communal system, 78 Communion, Institution of, 45-46, Eugenius III, 232 Eugenius IV, 257 218, 219, 258 Eusebius, 35, 127, 143, 177 Conrad III, 232 Eutyches, 129, 132 Constance, Council of, 257, 272 Constantine, 133, 184, 185, 201; Eutychus, 50 Faber, F. W., 261, 288 donation of, 185 Constantinople, Council of, 177, Faustus, 123 Fawkes, G., 243 281; stormed, 211 Felton, 244 Cordoba (Cordova), 235 Filioque, 204 Cornelio, 259 Fish symbol, 143, 144 Cornelius, 85, 286 Fitzherbert, Maria, 238 Cosmas Indicopleustes, 179 Fonseca, G. da, 300 Coue, School of, 40 Fourth Gospel, 13,46; authorship, 53, Cowper, W., 256 Cranmer, Abp., 210 68 etseq.; prologue, 53-55, 170 Creed, Apostles, 117; Athanasian, France, Anatole, 97,98,140-141, 229 130 et seq., 285: Nicene, 127 et seq. Francis, St., 139, 299 Francis II, Emperor, 209, 242 Crookes, Sir W., 19 Crusades, 194, 196, 211, 232, 233; Frederick I, 232 Frederick II, 233 Children's, 233

INDEX Gadarene swine, story of the, 40 Gallicanism, 191 Gallic, 97, 98, 99 Gama, see Vasco da Gama Gautama Buddha, 104, 135 Genghis Khan, 98 Genseric, 191, 192 Gentiles, conversion of, 85 George IV, 14,238^, 185 Gibbon, E., 180, 190 Gilbert, Canon, 219 Gnostics,39, in, 119,120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 135 Gore, Bp., 192 Gospels, commencement of the, 3637 Gregory I, 193 Gregory IV, 207 Gregory V, 185 Gregory VII (Hildebrand), 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 216, 225, 231, 243, 247, 275 Gregory XVI, 254, 273 Gregory of Tours, 138 Guibert of Ravenna, see Clement III Hagiographa, 149 Harnack, A., 175. 179, 187 Haroun al Raschid, 230 Harwood, Cecil, 297 Hebrews, Epistle to the, 15, 87 etseq., 287; Gospel of, 35 Henri II, 241 Henri III, 243 Henri IV, 243, 253 Henry III, 94, 214 Henry IV, 208, 213, 238, 240 Henry VI, Emperor, 202 Henry VIII, 239, 241, 242, 244, 249, 252 Hermes, 143 Herod, 51, 103, 107, 108 Herodotus, 16 Hilary of Aries, S., in, 132, 191 Hilary of Poitiers, 133 Hilda, St., 200 Hildebrand, see Gregory VII Holy Roman Empire, 208 Home, D. D., 19, 20 Honorius I, 281 Horus, 114 Hypatia, 190

305

Ignatius, 109, 156 Immaculate Conception, 79, 100, 108, 109, 132, 173, 225, 272 Inge, Dean, 19, 42 Innocent I, 171 Innocent III, 211, 213, 214, 215, 216, 233, 275, 293, 299 Innocent XI, 266 Irenaeus, 36, 156, 170 Isidore of Seville, 202 Isis, 138 James, I, 243 James, Prof. W., 260 James, St., 39, 56, 86; Epistle of, 87 et seq. Januarius, St., 122 Jerome, St., 35, 133, 168, 185-186, 225, 254 Jerusalem, siege of, 43; temple authorities at, 46; Jesus at, 58, 59; Council of, 115 Jesus, baptism of, 37, 55; life and mission of, 39-42; teaching of, 42-44, 48; family connections of, 44—45; passion of, 46 et seq.y 63-65; preaching, 39, 99, genealogy of, 44-45; resurrection of, 48> 5-52 Jews, 24, 25, 182; Christians as a Jewish sect, 76-95 Joad, C. E. M., 102 Johannine discourses, 72-74,295-296 John, King, 211, 212, 213 John, Apostle, 56 John the Baptist, 37, 38, 39, 55, 89 John XII, Pope, 201 John XXIII, 257 Jonah, 145 Joseph of Copertino, St., 20 Josephine, 253 Joshua, 25 Julius II, 191, 221 Justin, 71, 100, 114, 190 Kamsa, 105 Keenan's Controversial Catechism, 171 Kephas, 39 Khalil, Sultan, 139, 233 Langton, Stephen, 212 Lasserre, Henri, 153 Lateran Treaty, 276 Lazarus, raising of, 60-62, 146

u

306 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY Lenin, 293 Leo I, 112, 190-191, 192, 193, 211 Leo II, 281 Leo III, 201 Leo IV, 230 Leo IX, 205, 206, 210 Leo X, 139, 240 Leo XIII, Pope, 151, 152, 225, 273, 274 Leopold of Austria, 202 Liberius, Pope, 133 Liesse, 140 Lisbon, 170, 247 Livy, 117 Locke, John, 127 Logos, doctrine of, 177 Loisy, M. Alfred, 14 Lord's Supper, Institution of the, 45-46 Loreto, Holy House, 139, 140 Loreto, Our Lady of, 139, 140, 141, 217 Louis VII, 232 Louis XI, 213 Louis XII, 253 Louis XIV, 213, 275, 282 Louis XVIII, 301 Lourdes, 18 Lourdes, Our Lady of, 140 Lucena,J. de, 300 Luke, St., 33, 36. 37, 38, 40, 42, 45, 48, 49, 50, 56 Luther, Martin, 249 Lyell, 270 Lystra, 126 McCabe,J., 235 Maeterlinck, Maurice, 17, 18 Magi, no, 112 Magna Charta, 213, 249 Mahomet and Mahometanism, 95, 187, 193-201, 215, 223, 226, 229-236, 248, 268, 269 Maia, 135, 138 Malachi, 157 Malchus, 40, 64 Malory, Sir Thomas, 15 Manes, 123 Manichaeism, 186, 191, 298 Manning, Cardinal, 153, 207, 219, 280, 282 Manuscripts, 15-16

Marcion and Marcionites, 119 Maria Maggiore, S., 141 Mark, St., Gospel of, 33 etseq. Marriage, 57,110,252,253 Martel, C., 229 Martet,Jean, 122 Martha, 71 Martin, St., 133 Mary, St., cult of, 134-141 Mary, Queen of England, 240, 245 Mary, Queen of Scots, 244,245 Mary of the Snow, 141 Mass, 252 Matthew, Gospel of, 15, 20, 21, 34 et seq.

Maxentius, 184 Maya. 104, 135, 138 Mazarin, 213 Messiah, 25, 55, 56, 57, 77, 80, 103, 162 Milman, Dean, 236 Milton, J., 205 Ministry, Christian, 155—158 Miracles, 17-21, 58, 59, 60-62 Miriam, 135 Mitchell, J. M., 187 Mithraism, 183, 186 Moffatt,Dr.J., 27, 38 Molinos, Miguel de, 266, 267 Monothelites, 129 Montsegur, 227, 299 More, St. Thomas, 210 Mosaic Code, 77, 79 Mother of God, 137 Motley, J.R., 228 Muratorian fragment, 150 Murillo, 221, 222 Museo Kircheriano, 142 Musset, A. de, 92 Mussolini, 275 Mysticism, 259-260, 267 "Nag's Head" fable, 280, 281 Nantes, Edict of, 275 Napoleon, 253, 283, 301 Neo-Platonism, 186, 187, 290 Nestorius, 129, 132 Newman, Cardinal, 17, 21, 122, 255, 273, 277 New Testament, 150 et seq. Nicea: Council of, 127, 132, 174, 184; Creed of, 130, 178

INDEX Nicholas I, 203 Nicholas II, 206 Nightingale, Florence, 200 Norfolk, Duke of, 245, 246 Noah, 144-145 Olinda, 250 Origen, 95, 123, 135, 163, 175-179* 187, 255 Orpheus, 143 Orvieto, Cathedral of, 221 Osiris, 114 Otto I, 201 Padua, Cathedral at, 223 Paganism, influence of, 96 et seq. Pallavicini, Cardinal, 258 Pangloss, 184, 269, 270 Papal power, growth of, 201-215 Papias, 34 Paraclete, 83, 84, 267 Parker, Archbishop, 280, 281 Pascal, Blaise, 106 Patrizi, Cardinal, 172 Paul III, 241 Paul IV, 236 Paul of Samosata, 124, 125, 126, 132, 291 Paul of Tarsus, apostleship, 22,2829; career, 26 et seq.; possible auditor of Jesus, 27; serpent incident, 52 Pauline Epistles, 13, 14, 15, 22-32, 45, 287, 288 Pelagianism, 189 Pentateuch, 148, 199 Pepys, S., 234 Pere Lachaise Cemetery, 224 Periclitione, 108 Perigueux, 284 Peter, St., 83; imprisoned by Herod, 5i;atjoppa, 286 Peter, St., Basilica of, 160 Peter the Hermit, 194, 232 Petrine Claims, 160 et seq., 249 Philip II, 95, 242, 245, 247, 266, 282 Philip Augustus, 211, 212, 232 Piers Plowman, 251 Pilate, Pontius, 27, 37, 127 Pippin the Short, 201, 230 Pius II, 257 Pius V, 244

307

Pius VII, 301 Pius IX, 14, 216, 225, 271, 273, 274, 276 Pius X, 14, 274 Pius XI, 275 Plato, 73, 100, 108, 109, 224 Plotinus, 186, 187, 290 Polycarp, 71 Polygamy, 199 Portuguese expeditions, 216, 230, 300 Proclus, 190 Prophets, Book of, 149 Pseudo-Matthew, 38, 103, 104, 105, 109 Pseudo-Mark, 148 Pseudo-Luke, 38, 103, 104, 105, 109 Protestantism, 247-258 Quakers, 77, 90 Quicunque Vult, see Athanasian Creed Quietism, 266 Racine, 242 Rahab, 94 Ramadan, 197 Raphael Sanzio, 191, 221 Remi, St., 288 Renan, E., 21, 73, 80 Revelation, Book of, 61 Reynaud, Jean, 284 Richard I, 202, 232, 233 Richelieu, 213 Rio de Janeiro, Cathedral at, 223 Robertson, J. M., 13, 105, 135 Roman Catholic Church, 13, 14, 17, 20, in, 138, 151, 153, 154, 158160, 173, 201-215, 236 et seq., 250 et seq., 269 et seq. Rome; See of, 158-160,173, 185,231 Romulus, 120 Rosicrucians, 39 Rouen, See of, 210 Rubens, P. P., 139 Rudolph II, 237 Sabbath Day, 255 Sabellius, Sabellianism, 128, 129, 224 Saladin, 233 Sarpi, Paolo, 238

3o8 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF CHRISTIANITY Scheffler, Johann (Angelus Silesius), 263-267 Schlegel, A. W., 229 Schure*, E., 145 Schweitzer, Albrecht, 42 Scory, Bishop, 280 Sebastian, St., Church of, 142 Sebastiao, King, 230, 234 S6gur, Mgr., 172 Seignobos, C., 258 Sens, Council of, 224 Sepher Tet&ra, 113 Serveto, Miguel, 258 Seville Cathedral, 217 Sexual problems, 30-31 Shelley, P. B., 259 Sicilian expedition of, 415, 60 Siena Cathedral, 217 Sigismund, Emperor, 202 Silas, 51, 52 Simon, 39 Siricius, 209 Sixtus V, Pope, 247 Sobeski, King John, 234 Socinians, 259 Socrates, 73 Soissons, Council of, 224 Son of God (title), 28, 79; of Man, 79, 81 Sosthenes, 99 Sozini family, 259 Spensippus, 109 Speyer, Diet of, 248 Stanley, Dean, 140 Steiner, R., 292 Stephen, 76 Substance defined, 127 Sunday, 95 Sun God, 135, 143 Swithun, St., 209 Syllabus, 272, 276 Sylvester, Pope, 185 Synoptic Gospels, 13, 34-74, 118 Tabitha, 51, 220 TertuUian, 123, 124, 131, 135, 175 Tharaud, J. andj., 195 Theophilus of Antioch, 37, 71 Theophylact, 162

Theresa, S., 187, 200, 266 Thomas, St., 224, 225 Thurii, 61 Toledo Cathedral, 99, 217 Toledo, Council of, 130 Torquemada, 293 Trallis, Church at, 109 Transubstantiation, 220, 221 Tre Fontane, 32 Trent, Council of, 13, 14, 15, 258 Trinity, Doctrine of the, 112 et seq., 119, 131, 132, 135, 141 Trismegistus, 23, 24 Trullo, Council in, 151 Tyrannus, 99 Tyrrell, Father, 14 Urban II, 231 Urban IV, 220 Ursula, St., 180, 181 Usury, 226 Valentinian III, Emperor, 191 Vasco da Gama, 215 Vatican Council, 171, 172 Venice, 180, 237 Verbal accuracy, 16-17 Victor I, St., 174 Victricius, Bishop, 131 Vienna, 209 Vincent, St., 133, 171, 173 Voltaire, 134, 169, 239 Wesley, C., 42, 105, 249 Westminster Abbey, 217 Whitman, W., 80 William, Duke, 231 William II, 282 William of Orange, 243 Xavier, F., 284, 300 Xenophon, 73 Yathrib, 193, 194 Zebedee, 39,56, 57, 68,94 Zenobia, 125 Zephaniah, 157

ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 4

THE FORCE OF THE FEMININE

THE FORCE OF THE FEMININE Women, Men and the Church

Edited by MARGARET ANN FRANKLIN

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1986 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1986 Margaret Franklin All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

978-0-367-62307-4 978-1-003-10879-5 978-0-367-62313-5 978-0-367-63158-1 978-1-003-10883-2

(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 4) (hbk) (Volume 4) (pbk) (Volume 4) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

ElNMiMlNli Women, Men and the Church

MARGARET ANN FRANKLIN

ALLEN & UNWIN Sydney London Boston

© Margaret Ann Franklin 1986 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. No reproduction without permission. All rights reserved. First published in 1986 Allen & Unwin Australia Pty Ltd 8 Napier Street, North Sydney, NSW 2060, Australia Allen & Unwin New Zealand Limited 60 Cambridge Terrace, Wellington, New Zealand George Allen & Unwin (Publishers) Ltd Park Lane, Kernel Hempstead, Herts HP2 4TE, England Allen & Unwin Inc. 8 Winchester Place, Winchester, Mass 01890, USA National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-publication entry: The Force of the feminine. Includes index. ISBN 0 86861 930 2. ISBN 0 86861 914 0 (pbk.). 1. Women in Christianity. 2. Women's rights. I. Franklin, Margaret Ann. 261.8'344 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 85-073513 Typeset in 9/11 Century Schoolbook by Singapore National Printers (Pte) Ltd Printed in Hong Kong

Contents

Page INTRODUCTION

vii

CONTRIBUTORS

xx

1 WOMAN AND THE CHURCH: Her story Eileen Jones 2 THE ROLE OF THE CHURCH IN THE EDUCATION OF GIRLS AND WOMEN Eileen M. Byrne 3 SEXISM AND FUNDAMENTALISM Barbara Thiering

1

10 28

4 THE ORDINATION OF WOMEN: On whose side is the Bible? Kevin Giles

38

5 THE ORDINATION OF WOMEN: The position of the Catholic Church Leo Hay

49

6 THE ORDINATION OF WOMEN: A psychological interpretation of the objections Maggie Kirkman and Norma Grieve

55

V

vi

The force of the feminine

Page 7 INSTITUTIONAL SEXISM AND THE ANGLICAN CHURCH 68 Margaret Ann Franklin 8 MINISTERS' WIVES: Continuity and change in relation to their husbands' work 81 Kenneth Dempsey 9 A CLERGY WIFE'S STORY 100 Marlene Cohen 10 GOD AND PRONOUNS 113 Richard Franklin 11 AFFIRMATIVE ACTION IN THE UNITING CHURCH 1977-83 120 Marie Tulip 12 A QUIXOTIC APPROACH: The women's movement and the Church in Australia 141 Veronica Brady 13 THE FEMINISATION OF STRUCTURES IN RELIGIOUS ORDERS 149 Anne McLay 14 IMPLICATIONS OF THE FEMININE AND MASCULINE IN PASTORAL MINISTRY 164 Edward Morgan 15 CHRISTIAN CONVERSION AND THE FEMININE 175 Tony Kelly NOTES INDEX

187 204

Introduction

There is a stirring today, felt in nearly every denomination in Christendom, which concerns the place of the 'feminine' in Christianity. This involves much more than improving the low status of women in the Church and changing patriarchal structures. It involves accepting the 'feminine' in God and loving our contrasexual selves and calls for a theology which revives the ancient tradition of associating the Holy Spirit with God's femininity.1 Issues involving the 'feminine' mix together in complex ways, and arouse passionate debate. This book is a contribution to many, though not all of them. To untangle some of the threads we begin by examining the present position of women. The Force of the Feminine has a message for all Christians, but since the contributors, with one exception, are all Australians, and since they come from the Uniting, Anglican and Catholic churches, we shall start by sketching the role of the Women's Movement and the Australian Council of Churches in improving the status of women in these churches, and then discuss the other issues, concentrating on the greatest current focus of discussion, namely whether women should be ordained as priests or ministers. In Australia, Christian women seem to have been among the first to have been affected by the Women's Movement, which spread through the Western world in the late sixties and early seventies.2 This is probably due to the fact that the Church provided opportunities for female bonding in a society where women, for historical and geographical reasons, tended to be isolated from each other.3 In 1968 a group of Christian feminists established an interdenominational group called Christian Women Concerned. It studied the role of vii

viii

The force of the feminine

women in the Church and its male-oriented vocabulary; it also discussed issues such as poverty, racism and peace.4 In 1973 it published its small but influential journal Magdalene and began to establish a national network of women devoted to changing the Church. For many women, attending their first meeting was an experience of growth for it provided them with an atmosphere in which they could voice and share their concern about the rigid patriarchal attitudes they found entrenched in the Church. One woman wrote about how her life was changed after attending a meeting of local women in May 1969: I listened to a young Roman Catholic woman, an Anglican and a Quaker, speaking of those things which most disturbed, affected, interested and challenged us in our personal, national and emotional lives. And nothing has ever been quite the same since ... Wounded and scared by what it cost to be a woman in Sydney in 1969 I sat in that audience of 70 and listened, rejoiced and hoped. Maybe I wasn't a fool, a misfit, a nothing!... Here, my own thinking, so often ridiculed, was being expressed by these three, and being appreciated and applauded by the seventy. A spark lit the pile of gathered tinder in my soul that day—and 'Magdalene' kindled it into flame and has kept it burning ever since.5 Christian Women Concerned seems to have inspired the Australian Council of Churches branch in New South Wales to establish in 1973 the Commission on the Status of Women in the Church under the presidency of Marie Tulip.6 Two hundred submissions were received by the commission. These represented eleven denominations: Anglican, Baptist, Roman Catholic, Christian Scientist, Church of Christ, Congregational, Eastern Orthodox, Latter Day Saints, Methodist, Presbyterian, Salvation Army and the Society of Friends (Quakers). After examining the submissions the commission concluded that not only was there an enormous imbalance in the number of men and women serving on decision-making bodies, but, when funds were allocated, constitutions changed or theology discussed, women were largely absent.7 Alarmed by similar results from surveys in other Christian countries, the World Council of Churches began a project called 'Study on the Community of Men and Women in the Church'. It invited groups around the world to discuss issues such as identity, church teaching and theological education, worship and ministry. Groups were asked to report in August 1980. Australian

Introduction

IX

Christians were quick to respond to this invitation and in New South Wales, for example, an interdenominational group of men and women met regularly.8 In September 1978 the Australian Council of Churches Status of Women Commission set up four task forces. These studied sexist language and the production of non-sexist literature, theological colleges, sexuality and feminist theology. Two years later the commission also sponsored a 'Living Female Conference'. While some progress was made the results of these efforts were not particularly encouraging and a member of the Status of Women Commission of the Australian Council of Churches reported: It is not an exaggeration here in Australia to speak of the Church's rigidities in the area of sexism. Men hold effective power in almost every area of the church's life— administration, theological education, local churches, and also in writing theology, hymn book compilation, evangelism campaigns and so on. God is indubitably male, as are most of 'his' priests and ministers, and the dominant culture of the church is a patriarchial culture.9 As Australia is still very much a patriarchial society a new national Commission on the Status of Women was recently established by the Australian Council of Churches. Task forces consisting of women from Sydney, Melbourne and Canberra have been set to examine four areas. These are: 1 domestic violence—its relationship to war, patriarchy and theological issues; 2 the economy—taxation and women, and the increasing numbers of women in poverty; 3 bioethics—the moral, theological, physical and social aspects as they impinge on the family, lifestyle and sexuality; 4 language—attitudes to inclusive language in churches and production of a liturgical resource book.10 In 1978 Australian women learned that a significant number of women had been ordained in New Zealand, Sweden, the United States and Canada. This inspired a group of theologically trained women to meet in Adelaide in April of that year to try to find 'forms of ministry that are valid at this time'.11 Other groups began, and in October 1983 some Sydney women started the Movement for the Ordination of Women. This movement, which is ecumenical and which has both male and female members, became a national movement in 1985 and

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thanks to its energetic spokesperson, Patricia Brennan, has been given a considerable amount of media coverage. Of the three churches to which our contributors belong, the Uniting Church is in all respects the most advanced. It finds no theological objections to female ordination, and has many women ministers. Moreover, in 1977, well before the Commonwealth government introduced the first voluntary affirmative action program in 1984, the Uniting Church was one of the first institutions in Australia to introduce affirmative action for women. Its program required congregations to review the membership of all their decision-making bodies and to make sure, where possible, of a membership of about a third women. The Uniting Church accepted that if women were to be fully integrated into the total ministry of the Church, it was not enough just to remove legal barriers and discriminatory procedures; rather, positive steps had to be taken to overcome the habits and stereotypes of centuries. If we turn to Anglicanism, we find that within the worldwide Anglican community there are already women priests. In 1968 there was a consensus of opinion at the Lambeth Conference that there are no fundamental theological objections to the ordination of women. In 1971 the Bishop of Hong Kong ordained two women as priests. Later, churches in the USA, Canada, New Zealand and Kenya also did so. But neither the Church of England nor the rest of the churches in Asia, Australia, the Pacific or South America have done so. The reasons offered are various, and not always easily reconciled. Those who heavily emphasise the Protestant dimension of the Anglican tradition appeal to New Testament texts and to the notion of the Godgiven authority of the male over the female. Those who are more concerned with the Catholic emphasis in the tradition would agree more with the Catholic Church's viewpoint which we present below. In Australia as long ago as 1977 the Commission of Doctrine of the (Australian) General Synod concluded that there were no theological objections which constituted a barrier to the ordination of women to the priesthood. Accordingly a proposal to permit such ordination was introduced. Complicated manoeuvrings prevented it being implemented until in 1985 a decision of the Church's supreme body of constitutional and legal matters, the Appellate Tribunal, opened the way. It declared that there was no constitutional or theological principle preventing women being ordained as deacons, priests or bishops. The Anglican General Synod which was held in August 1985 refused to pass a bill which would have acknowledged this situation

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and given each diocese the choice to ordain women if they so wished.12 However the decision of the Appellate Tribunal remains in effect, and it seems open to any diocese to act on it without requiring the approval of General Synod. At the same General Synod a bill was passed to permit the ordination of women as deacons (rather than deaconesses). Since the diaconate has been the traditional stepping stone to the priesthood the crucial time for the Anglican Church may come in perhaps a few years when bishops must decide whether to ordain women deacons to the priesthood. Finally, the Roman Catholic Church, or at least the present Pope, is rigidly opposed to the ordination of women. In 1976 (which was, incidentally, a year after the Decade of Women began) the Vatican Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith published a 'Declaration on the question of the Admission of Women to the Ministerial Priesthood'. In the introduction it was stated that 'the Church in fidelity to the example of the Lord, does not consider herself authorised to admit women to priestly ordination'. In the rest of the Declaration 'the Church's constant tradition' is defended by pointing out that Christ, despite his nonconformist attitude to women, never invited any women 'to become part of the Twelve', and that the apostles faithfully followed his practice. It is claimed that there is no evidence to show that Jesus' and the apostles' attitude towards women was determined by social and cultural conditions. Further, it would be impossible for women to be priests because the priest represents Christ at the Mass and only males bear a natural resemblance to him; Christ is the Church's bridegroom and only a male can represent Christ, the Bridegroom. However, the matter is not quite so clear. There is considerable discussion among theologians (as represented by Leo Hay's chapter in this book), and in particular many Catholic sisters believe that ultimately the ordination of women must be permitted. Apart from this central, contentious issue, the place of women in the life of the Australian Church was an item on the agenda of the meeting of Catholic bishops and major superiors in May 1982. It was decided to launch a national project, and grassroots groups have been established all over Australia. Their primary task is to raise the consciousness of women of all denominations on Christian feminist issues. Representatives from diocesan regional groups will form State core groups and their reports will be used when the Church comes in 1988 to formulate policy for the next twenty years. Cynics have suggested that the men who began this movement are hoping to direct women's

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thinking along lines that do not threaten male authority on feminist issues. Behind this intense discussion of feminine ordination which is the central current focus, there are other, and in the end deeper, issues. What is the role of the priest or minister in the congregation, and how is it to be understood in the light of the New Testament notion of the 'priesthood of all believers? What should it mean to have authority in a church whose founder said 'the leaders among you must be your servants' (Matt. 23:11)? What are the appropriate structures for exercising whatever authority and priestly ministry there should be in the Church? How does the notion of authority apply outside the Church also—for example in the relationship of husband and wife? Behind these are deeper questions still. If accustomed practices, which Christians value in their spiritual journey, are challenged by a new viewpoint, then how can we tell whether they are mere historical patterns, which comfort us because we are used to them but which should give way to more appropriate ones, or whether they embody the wisdom of a tradition with which we are not entitled to tamper? As specific examples, how should we think about God? Is God in any sense masculine, or more like a man than a woman? If so, in what sense? If not, then should we continue always to speak of 'Him'? And what else might we say—would it be any more helpful to speak of 'Her'? How far can or should we change the traditional language of the Christian liturgies in such ways? And besides our thinking about God, what of our thinking about ourselves and our own self-understanding? Are the roles of male and female, as delineated in the Bible or church tradition, given immutably? Or are they rather examples of what was appropriate for their time and place, and so should be replaced by patterns appropriate for ours? And what would such patterns be? In particular, should we be seeking a deeper acceptance of our contrasexual selves—that is, of the element of the feminine in every man and of the masculine in every woman? Or should we regard such suggestions with suspicion, as departing from traditional Christian standards? The writers in this book turn constantly to the theme of the spiritual androgyny of people. Whether discussing the creation of humankind in Genesis, or Jesus' respect for women, or the fact that women as well as men held office in the early Church, they constantly seek to show human beings as not male or female exclusively, but as children of God with male and female, masculine and feminine, characteristics, with one set predominant. Edward Morgan's recom-

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mendation of the Jungian notion of contrasexuality is perhaps the most explicit of these efforts. Christian feminists know that, just as in our physical bodies we show a mingling of male and female, so the two poles of human being are mingled in every person. It is significant that one of the movements in feminism was a consideration of the notion of androgyny. Androgyny, according to Carolyn Heilbrun, suggests 'a full range of experience open to individuals who may, as women, be aggressive, as men, tender; it suggests a spectrum upon which human beings choose their places without regard to propriety or custom'.13 The freedom of possibilities this suggests is breathtaking. The whole direction of Christian feminism is not just to ensure that women have the status in the Church that they see as rightly theirs, but to explore the subtle and complicated business of femininity and masculinity and to bring about a union of the best parts of these in each person; to heal and not to divide; to make whole and not to put asunder. The division into two mutually antagonistic poles of being, masculine and feminine, Christian feminists see as one of the results of the Fall, perhaps the chief result. They believe that Christ came to rebuild the bridges between every part of our divided nature, that this particular division is bridgeable and indeed has to be bridged if we are to be whole human beings, and that it is continuing the work of redemption to try to do so. When we Christians try to settle these questions we are driven to the issue: by what criteria should we decide them? Do we appeal simply to the words of the Bible? To the authority of two millennia of tradition embodied in the Church? To the working of the Holy Spirit today in the Church (and if so, how is such working to be recognised)? to our God-given powers of reasoning about such matters? And if to more than one of these, then how are they to be related? For all Christians, these are theological questions. This means, in the first place, that they cannot be settled simply by appealing to the sorts of considerations by which the community decides whether women should be admitted to the stock exchange. Non-Christians may well see theology as a smokescreen for the avoidance of the obvious and the protection of vested interests. But if Christians are to be Christian, they are in some sense under authority. They must try to relate all their thinking to what they take the will of God to be for themselves and the Church; and their attempts to discern that will must be guided by the whole outlook presented in the Bible and preserved in the Christian tradition. Yet agreement on this point may not solve

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problems. For Christians, certain sorts of argument are central which to outsiders may seem irrelevant, but about the outcome of those arguments Christians can remain deeply divided. In the first place, the conception of what is authoritative can differ. Protestants appeal above all to the Bible. Roman Catholics, Orthodox and Anglo-Catholics in the Anglican church would insist that the tradition of the Church is also of fundamental authority. Second, even agreement on that to which we should appeal may not yield agreement in the result. Protestants differ deeply in their interpretation of the Bible, and about such things as how far their interpretation of it should be influenced by historical knowledge of the situation in which it was written. Those who appeal to the authority of tradition, in turn also differ deeply about how that authority is manifested in history and how it is to be recognised. And in each case there are views which vary from the naivest conviction that the matter is perfectly clear, to the subtlest evaluation of conflicting considerations. Finally, though all Christians would agree that the problems are not to be settled by mere appeal to secular considerations, this agreement can mask fundamental differences about the role of secular knowledge within theology itself. On the one hand, there are those who see Christianity as forever needing to maintain itself against the distortions of non-Christian viewpoints, and hence view theology as a perpetual fight to preserve the truth against error seeping in from outside. For such people, typically 'the world lieth in the evil one' (I John 5:19). On the other hand, there are those who believe that, with the redemption of the world by Christ and his promise to send the Holy Spirit to believers (John 16:12-13), it is already true that in some sense 'the kingdoms of this world have become the kingdom of our Lord and Christ' (Rev. 11:15). Hence for them all secular knowledge is indeed to be tested in the light of the deepest Christian principles, but then, if compatible with them, to be willingly accepted. Such Christians expect the viewpoints manifested in the New Testament and early Church to be progressively amplified in the light of greater truth wherever it may be found. And between these two positions there are many intermediate ones. Hence the relevance of those considerations to which non-Christians would naturally appeal, is itself a deep issue among Christians. In all these appeals to authority, and the search for the correct criterion by which to judge, a central problem is that the Bible is not an easy document to interpret. Consisting as it does of a large number of books written down over a great period of time, virtually everyone

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would agree that it is not always easy to reconcile what is said in one place with what is said in another. The accepted principle among theologians is that individual passages are to be interpreted in the light of the total picture which the Bible presents; though at the same time the total picture is essentially the sum of the individual passages. Thus our reflection moves to and fro between the whole and the part, in a way which is sometimes called the 'hermeneutic circle'. This is found in all sound biblical interpretation or exegesis. But the result is that whereas some will take a particular text as perfectly clear (and therefore as limiting the overall picture which can properly be held as consistent with it), others will have another view of the overall picture (perhaps based on taking some other text or texts as particularly significant), and will therefore argue that the first text should be read in the light of that picture. Such difficulties suggest to some people that the Bible is to be interpreted by an authority, namely the Church, rather than left to the individual reasoning of theologians. Others, however, reply that the very same problem breaks out afresh in relation to any proposed authority. For the Christian tradition has varied greatly from age to age (and nowhere more than in its treatment of the 'feminine'). Hence must we not interpret its pronouncements also in the same way—understanding a particular statement in the light of the general picture, while at the same time discerning this from the total collection of pronouncements? And a similar circle operates again in deciding how far the growth of new knowledge should be allowed to impinge on the biblical tradition. Some will take the Bible (or the Bible as interpreted by tradition) to be that by which all else can be judged, so that what seems to be inconsistent with it may be confidently set aside. Others will say that the whole vast expansion of human knowledge is a gift of the Holy Spirit which gives us a wider overall picture, in the light of which the treasured Christian tradition may be more deeply understood. The overall picture, which these essays support in various ways, is that Jesus lived, and the Church came into existence, in a maledominated or patriarchal society, where the status of women was by our standards intolerably low. A striking feature of his ministry was his amazingly free attitude towards women, whereby he continually dealt with them simply as human beings. Afterwards, as the early Church explosively expanded under the pressure of its passionate convictions, modern scholarship increasingly suggests that there was neither a rigidly formalised ministry as we know it today, nor any

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emphasis on male dominance; but rather that women were used in whatever way their gifts and talents would indicate. Later, however, as the contagious enthusiasm gave way to more organised structures, and specially when Christianity eventually became the official religion of the Roman Empire, general patriarchal attitudes reasserted themselves. The documents of the New Testament were reinterpreted (with sincerity and even with inevitability) as leading up to what was then the present position; for the interpreters were uniformly male, and they could read the documents only from their own perspective. Moreover, the later rise of asceticism, and the fact that the greatest spiritual achievements of the age came from those leading a celibate life, gradually induced an increasing fear of, and hostility towards, sex, which threatened in time to obliterate Jesus' superbly open attitude towards women. The eventual extreme views, whereby women were seen as inherently a source of temptation and evil, would today officially be repudiated by everyone; but it is not nearly so clear that their traces do not still linger. Given this overall picture, the subordinate position of women in the Church today seems quite unsurprising but also totally unacceptable. We are, in this view, at a stage in the development of the Christian tradition where fidelity to Jesus' great emphasis on the liberation of the human spirit, and the need to translate this liberation into practical action in our life and in the structures of society, show that restrictions on the role of women in the Church must go. We should try to avoid bitterness at the attitudes of past generations, but we cannot make the comfort of familiar patterns an excuse for resting in them. If that were all, the pressing of the claims of the 'feminine' might be seen merely as the redressing of an injustice. But while no doubt injustice is in any case to be redressed, this position leads to an understanding of human, as well as feminine, liberation in a much deeper sense. For the questions now arise of understanding both God and our own nature more deeply. Again it turns out, on scholarly investigation, that the apparently masculine picture of God which the Bible superficially presents, is, within the Bible itself, balanced by other feminine strands. And as well as our picture of God, a whole new dimension opens up about whether we humans have been encouraged or forced to become too masculine (if we are men) or feminine (if we are women), and whether we ought not both to become more conscious of the supressed aspects of our natures. The ultimate goal would be to restore the 'feminine' in our image of God and to convert Christians to

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the 'feminine', so that men may love the 'feminine' in themselves and women rejoice in the 'masculine' aspects of their characters. On this view, the present structures and assumptions in the organisation of the Church not merely do injustice to half the human race, but mask a movement of self-understanding and liberation to which the Holy Spirit is calling us in this generation. To achieve such a general picture, and to begin to become aware of its implications, is only part of the story. For, as the 'hermeneutic circle' indicates, a vision of the whole must be checked by whether it is consistent with the parts, just as the parts must be understood in the light of the whole. The contributors to this book take up detailed aspects of the discussion in various ways, according to their expertise and their own personal experience. Eileen Jones sketches the historical perspective, and brings out the role of the male-dominated or patriarchal ideology in that history. Eileen Byrne discusses the role of the Church in the education of girls and women. Barbara Thiering examines the link between sexism and the particular Protestant positions known as fundamentalism and conservative Evangelicalism. Leo Hay considers some, though not all, of the arguments used in the Catholic Church to reject the possibility of feminine ordination. Kevin Giles considers the New Testament position, including both the texts which may be taken to prohibit female ordination, and also those which speak of the much misunderstood 'headship' of the male. Maggie Kirkman and Norma Grieve present a psychological interpretation of objections to the ordination of women. My own chapter is concerned with less technical issues. I offer an example of how patriarchal attitudes may in practice restrict even the opportunities of service which are officially open to women. Similarly Kenneth Dempsey could well have called his chapter 'Institutional sexism and clergy wives', as he outlines some of the implication of his sociological work among the wives of clergy. Then Marlene Cohen poignantly and humorously tells us from her own experience how her career in the Church ended when she married a clergyman whom she had converted to Christianity. A small aspect of the deepest issues about the nature of God and ourselves is raised by Richard Franklin, who discusses the problem of trying to talk about God in non-sexist ways. Marie Tulip's chapter is concerned with developments in the Uniting Church, which are impressive by comparison with most other denominations. They already show that the 'feminisation' of church structures will benefit

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the Church in many subtle and unexpected ways. Veronica Brady again considers longer-term issues, beginning with a plea that women should neither withdraw from these issues because of the enormous current pressures that may be placed on them, nor adapt by becoming 'honorary males' if they do gain some power. The Church has much to offer from its own traditions about how power can be expressed and exercised in more 'feminine* ways, but first it must learn to see its own tradition afresh. The point is illustrated in a different context by Anne McLay, who discusses penetratingly the past, present and future of Catholic women's congregations. Here women have a chance to play a genuine part in ordering their own affairs, and she suggests how the 'feminisation' of these structures might occur: the need for a new, and more holistic model of knowledge, which takes into account 'those non-rational abilities which Western society has tended to ignore and dismiss as irrational'; and also a new model of association and the carrying out of business, using consensus rather than the majority vote. The next chapter, by our only non-Australian contributor, is included because valuable experience can be gained from the North American experience, where women have been involved in pastoral care for many years. Edward Morgan outlines the view, based largely on Jung, that there is an element of the opposite sex in each of us. He applies this, not only to pastoral counselling, but also to an understanding of the creation narrative in Genesis. Similar themes, expressing perhaps the deepest level of the changes to which we may be called, are found finally in Tony Kelly's discussion of the need for 'conversion to the feminine'. He sees this as a process occurring on at least four interrelated levels, which he calls the religious, the intellectual, the moral and the psychological; and he traces something of what such a conversion might mean for all of us. This book therefore is not a systematic treatment, but is more like a series of sketches of a landscape produced by different artists from different perspectives. Yet we hope it conveys a sense of the importance, the complexity, the vastness and above all the exciting challenge of this new territory which the Holy Spirit is calling us to explore. Some of the chapters in The Force of the Feminine are based on material that has already been published. A version of Kevin Giles' contribution appeared in St Mark's Review in June 1979, entitled 'A Biblical Case For The Ordination of Women'. Leo Hay's chapter was

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originally written for a conference on baptism, eucharist and ministry, organised by the Australian Council of Churches; an edited version was published in In Unity in June 1984. Edward Morgan's Implications of the Masculine in Pastoral Ministry' first appeared in the American publication Journal of Pastoral Care. Maggie Kirkman and Norma Grieve's chapter is an edited version of a paper called 'Women, Power and Ordination: A psychological interpretation of objections to the ordination of women to the priesthood'. It was published in Women's Studies International Forum by Pergamon Press in 1984. The authors wish to thank Father Roger Sharr who provided information on scriptural and theological issues pertinent to the ordination of women. Barbara Thiering based her chapter on a paper she wrote for Toleration called The Church and Christian Fundamentalists'. Marie Tulip's contribution is a condensation of her book, Woman in a Man's Church: Changes in the Status of Women in the Uniting Church in Australia 1977-1984. It was published by the Australian Council of Churches Commission on the Status of Women. We do want to thank all the organisations and publications concerned for permission to republish. We also want to thank Richard Franklin for helping with the introduction, Venetia Nelson for providing editorial assistance and Liz Thompson for secretarial help. Eleanor Brasch acted as our honorary literary agent and we would like to thank her for all she did. Margaret Ann Franklin August 1985 Postscript Things are moving fast in the Anglican communion. On the one hand, the Archbishop of Sydney, the Right Reverend Donald Robinson, employing a rarely used provision has vetoed his diocese's acceptance of women deacons. On the other hand, the Church of England is drafting rules to present to its synod to provide for the ordination of women to the priesthood.

Contributors

Veronica Brady is a Loreto sister who has published several theological books. From 1973-76 she was a member of the Western Australian Appeals Tribunal for the Department of Social Security. She is now a director of the board of the Australian Broadcasting Commission. She also holds the position of Senior Lecturer in English at the University of Western Australia. Eileen Byrne, who is Anglican, is Professor of Education Policy Studies at the University of Queensland. She trained in linguistics, specialising in medieval and modern French. She has published a book on the education and training of girls for the Commission for the European Community. She has also written a more general book on women and education. Marlene Cohen is an Anglican lay preacher. Her lecture entitled * Agenda for a Biblical Church' has been influential. Her aim is to eradicate institutional sexism in the church by educating her own local congregation about ministry gifts as outlined in the New Testament (for men as well as women). The topic of her Master of Theology thesis, which is to be submitted to Sydney University, is 'Educating the Laity in Theological Concepts'. Kenneth Dempsey trained as a Methodist minister. He is now Senior Lecturer in Sociology at Latrobe University and is a member of the Uniting Church. He has published a book and numerous articles on the sociology of religion in Australian society. xx

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Margaret Ann Franklin is Anglican, a sociologist and a freelance writer. She has written a book and various articles on race relations in Australia and on Aboriginal health. Her research interests now include the role of women in the church in Australia and the status of women in China. In 1985 she led an Australian women's delegation to China and made contact with.Christian women there. She tutors in the Department of Continuing Education at the University of New England on womens' issues. Richard Franklin is Professor of Philosophy at the University of New England. He began his professional life as a barrister and has published in philosophical and legal journals. He has written a book on freewill, and has nearly finished another called Knowledge and Understanding. He is an Anglican lay reader. Kevin Giles is rector of St Matthews Anglican Church, Kensington, in the Diocese of Adelaide. He has lecturered on and written various articles and two books about women's ministry. His latest book, Created Woman, was published by Acorn Press. He lectures part-time in New Testament studies at the Adelaide College of Divinity at Flinders University. Norma Grieve is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Psychology at the University of Melbourne. She has co-edited Australian Women: Feminist Perspectives and has research interests in sex differences in mathematics. She also teaches in an interdisciplinary women's studies course. Leo Hay is a member of the Franciscan Order and has long been involved in the ecumencial movement. He lectures in systematic theology at the National Pastoral Institute and the Yarra Theological Union, both in Melbourne. Eileen Jones is a member of the Bridgetine Order. She is a psychologist and has been researching how people remember. Her chapter is based on a lecture she gave at a lunch-time seminar at the University of New England. Tony Kelly is a member of the Redemptionist Order. He is perhaps best known for his writings in National Outlook. His essay 'Restoring the Feminine in Our Image of God', which was published in this

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journal, won a Religious Press Association Prize. He is president of the Yarra Theological Union and also of the Melbourne College of Divinity. He lectures on systemic theology. His latest book, Seasons of Hope, has recently been published by Dove Press. Maggie Kirkman is a Tutor in Psychology at the University of Melbourne. She is working towards a PhD on the effect of growing up with an intellectually disabled sibling. Anne McLay is a Mercy sister and member of the order's administrative team in Brisbane. She is also a historian and has written a biography of Bishop Quinn, Brisbane's first bishop. The Mercy sisters enjoy being involved with community groups that ask alternative questions. Edward Morgan has written about pastoral care and also has first hand experience in the field. He was rector of St Luke's Episcopal Church, Alexandria, for 21 years. He now specialises in field education and also teaches pastoral theology. He is particularly concerned that students should understand the implications of the masculine and feminine in pastoral ministry. He is Professor of Field Education at the Protestant Episcopal Theological Seminary in Virginia, USA. Marie Tulip has been a member of the Commission on the Status of Women of the Australian Council of Churches since 1974. She has written articles on feminist theology and spirituality and is a member of the editorial group of Magdale. She is a member of the National Women's Consultative Council. She teaches English as a Second Language at Sydney Technical College. Her chapter is a condensation of her book, Woman in a Man's Church, published by the Commission on the Status of Women of the Australian Council of Churches. Barbara Thiering is an Anglican theologian. She has written and edited books on women in the Australian church and has published numerous essays and articles on this topic. She has lectured and spoken widely on contemporary theology and biblical studies and on the status of Australian women. Her chapter is based on a monograph she wrote called The Church and the Christian Fundamentalists', published by Toleration.

1 Woman and the Church Her story EILEEN JONES

The concept of church has been variously defined, but in this chapter I will be discussing church both as the community of Christian believers and as the established Catholic Church. The position of women in the Church is at present the subject of much attention. Not only is this topic being discussed in theological journals and elsewhere in ways which place it in the broader context of the women's movement, but those bastions of masculinity in church organisational structure, the seminaries, are now both accepting women students and offering courses which actually explore the status of women, and particularly women in ministry. Because of the limits of time and my own life history much of what I say will refer to the experiences of Catholic women. Those readers who have first-hand experience of other denominations, as well as those who have made the status of women their special study, will be able to extrapolate from the material I present, to other denominations and situations. There is a heritage common to all Christians: the historical roots of Christianity in Judaean culture and the influence of early Greek philosophers on our thought and language. For that reason I shall spend a little time examining the woman myth in both the Greek and Judaean traditions and then move on to the ideas of women and womanhood embodied in the thought of Aristotle. The ideas of these ancient Greeks and the language in which they are expressed have exercised a pervasive influence on our perception of the nature of woman and of male/female roles. Fifteen years ago this chapter could as easily have been entitled 'the invisible women and the Church'. An examination of our historical and philosophical roots, cursory though it may be, will help to explain why women have been largely unseen 1

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and unheard in the Church until now. Having dealt with the 'why' of the situation we will be in a better position to discuss the 'how' of necessary change. The woman myth in very early Greek literature presents her as a source of evil and danger. According to Hesiod (eighth century BC) men were the original earth dwellers and enjoyed an existence free from toil and disease until the first woman, Pandora, arrived bringing with her all kinds of harm. In Hesiod's view, Pandora (and therefore all womankind) is not only the purveyor of evil, but is evil personified, being created that way by Zeus. However, Hesiod's woman had a limited use: as a sex-object, breeder and housekeeper she was an object to be acquired along with a dwelling and oxen, but never a person to be trusted. Here we have a very early record of the functionalist view of women which is typical of patriarchal cultures and which survives still. In the Homeric epics both Helen and Clytemnaestra are shown as open to seduction and prone to treachery. They are presented not as women intrinsically evil but evil through intrinsic weakness. This theme is akin to that in the Judaean myth recorded in Genesis. The woman, Eve, is the purveyor of evil. She falls herself and drags the man, Adam, with her. As punishment she is henceforth to be under Adam's domination. Integrity and strength are therefore to be seen as special prerogatives of the male. The assumption of male superiority can also be found in the writings of Aristotle. His theory of sexual reproduction suggests the identification of masculinity with clarity, form, power and perfection; and femininity with formlessness, passivity and imperfection. According to Aristotle, a female is formed as a result of a deviation in nature, but a necessary deviation to ensure survival of the species. She is therefore to be regarded as a deformity—an infertile male. It is the male who supplies the form or soul of the offspring; the female merely supplies the inferior matter or body. Maleness is seen to exist because of an inherent ability, femaleness because of an inherent inability. Modern biologists, of course, have stood Aristotle on his head. They tell us that all embryos are first female, and that maleness is added during the course of gestation. Aristotle tells us that as 'the Form is better and more divine than the Matter, it is better also that the superior one should be separate from the inferior one. That is why whenever possible, and so far as is possible, the male is separate from the female'.1 The relationship between these myths and ideas, and women's experience of reality, both in the Church and in the wider society, is

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3

not hard to trace. Ancient mythology and philosophy both present woman as inferior. The Aristotelian, hierarchical, patriarchal, functionalist view of the world in which the lesser exists to serve the greater is reflected in this quote from Thomas Aquinas cited by Tony Kelly: Woman is something deficient and accidental. For the active power of the male intends to produce a perfect likeness of itself in the male sex. If however, a female is conceived, that is due to a lack of strength in the active power or to wrongly disposed matter or to some external influence like that of a humid wind from the South.2 This hierarchical model is very much in line with twentiethcentury experience of reality, whether in the struggles of the peoples in Third World countries, the reality of our fiercely competitive industrial and commercial life, our educational institutions or our experience of established church structures. Western linguistic expression defines humanity as male and defines woman as relative to man, not as an autonomous person. This situation presents us with a multidimensional problem; most of these dimensions can only be mentioned here. The philosophical problem, of the masculinity= perfection/femininity=imperfection picture has already been outlined. It is generally accepted that the search for truth is the object of intellectual enquiry. However, the philosophical bias emanating from Aristotle's world view which has been so widely and unquestioningly accepted by the West has meant that our explorations of reality have been one-sided. Until very recently history has been explored, interpreted and written by men, about man, for men. Psychologically, men and women have been trapped in sexual stereotypes and in our own day the mass media have generally served to reinforce those stereotypes. Throughout most of the history of humankind education and even basic literacy have been the prerogative of elites, and by and large of male elites only. Consequently the creativity of most people, and especially of women, has been stunted, distorted or disowned. The Greek philosophical bias which has pervaded the Christian tradition in the West has meant not only that women are perceived as inferior to men, but that aspects of femininity could not be attributed to the Deity. This theological problem is at present being explored. As Tony Kelly points out, our understanding of reality affects the way we affirm God; and the way we think about God affects the way we think about reality.3 Thus our forebears have

4

The force of the feminine

set up a vicious circle of masculinity which needs to be broken. There are two creation myths in Genesis, one in each of the first two chapters. The second myth tells us of a female made from Adam's rib to be his helpmate—again an hierarchical view of the sexes and a functionalist view of women. The myth recorded in chapter 1 makes no such distinction. In Genesis 1:27 we read: 'God created man in the image of himself, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them', and there's no prize for guessing which of these two myths has been most emphasised in the Western Christian churches. Tony Kelly also comments: If the male-female polarity is in the image of God (Gen. 1:27) then there must be something transcendentally feminine about God—a consolation, and I suspect, quite a revelation to most men'.4 Linked to the theological problem of demolishing the male stereotypes which have limited and determined our perception and articulation of the concept of God is a problem of morality and justice: that of equal rights for men and women in the Church. While Christians generally have given lip-service to the intrinsic value of personhood, in practice women have been both perceived and treated as inferiors by the established Church. In the Judaean, Greek and Roman cultures which prevailed at the time Christianity was founded, women tended to be categorised as wives, concubines or prostitutes. While there were minor variations from one culture to another, a wife's place was in the home where she was expected to provide heirs but to be seen only occasionally and rarely heard. Women in the Judaean tradition played no part in public life and even temple architecture was designed to ensure that women kept their place. The priestly office was reserved for males only. Males expected to marry a virgin and wives were honoured in the home. However, Jewish theocracy imposed severe punishments on women who transgressed the accepted code of sexual morality, and the law provided that an adulteress should be stoned. Christ's encounter with the self-righteous Jews who brought to him a 'women taken in adultery' for condemnation challenged their double standards. The result of his challenge is well known: the woman's accusers slipped away, 'beginning with the eldest' (Jn 8:3-4). Christ's attitude to women constituted a threat to the establishment, for he consorted with sinners, lepers, tax collectors and beggars and treated 'public sinners', that is, prostitutes, with respect and courtesy, as persons, not as second-class citizens. We find at various places in the New Testament, mention of the women who ministered to him, and at

Woman and the church

5

the last women were prominent on Calvary. The fact that mention is made in the New Testament of the ministry of women is perhaps an indication that this was a novel situation worthy of comment. Luke provides parallel incidents which feature a woman in one and a man in the other, as with the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin. Gospel writers selected and arranged their material to make a point and Luke appears to be indicating that women and men are of equal importance in salvation history. In the first stages of Christianity women continued to be prominent. Thus Prisca, Junia and Phoebe are mentioned by Paul (Rom. 16) but by the second century we find that this initial status of women has been eroded and that Tertullian rails against women who dared to 'teach, to participate in theological disputes, to exorcise, to promise healings and to baptise'.5 It is interesting evidence that they were in fact doing so. Once Christianity moved from being a fringe element to integration into the establishment, woman was defined according to the Aristotelian model, by her reproductive function and household duties. Woman's place was in the home, of which the husband was the head and where she was expected to take a passive, submissive role. These were, and in part still are, the expectations placed on women, both religious and lay, by ecclesiastical authorities. In other words, what feminist writers call patriarchal ideology gradually prevailed over the equal status found in the early Church and implied by Jesus' ministry. Evidence of the prevalence of this attitude among Catholics during the early years of this century is provided in the records of the 1904 Catholic Congress. Patrick and Deirdre O'Farrell6 in their short bulletin on the status of Catholic women in Australia, tell us that at the 1904 Catholic Congress, all papers prepared by women, and there were several, had to be read by a man. 'Women were permitted to listen to, but not to utter their own words'. A major strand in clerical attitudes to women's rights at that time was that 'they might be permissible in theory, but they were undesirable in practice'. A formal resolution of the whole congress reads: That woman's special sphere of duty and dignity and security is the home, to be guarded against pagan ideas, principles and practices'. Social, political and industrial change, which has occurred in the last three centuries, has forced a modification of women's inferior status both within and outside the Church. Demands for equality and liberty for all men resulted in political change which attempted to abolish authoritarian rule and replace it with gome form of democracy and enfranchisement of the masses. Industrial and technological

6

The force of the feminine

development meant that women were increasingly employed outside the home, and basic literacy became a necessity if workers were to manage efficiently the increasingly sophisticated technology. These changes could not be ignored by the Church, even though the consequences of some of them have been fiercely resisted and others given lip-service only. Perhaps the most visible sign of the status, or lack of it, for women in the Australian church, has been the exclusion of women not only from ordained ministry but even from theological colleges until the last few years. Pope Pius X (Pope 1904-1913) was liberal for his time and encouraged women to acquire higher education, but drew the line at women studying theology, or pursuing politics. Some Australian Catholic laymen are on record as sharing the reactionary view of the clergy that women should not exercise political power. Not only public life but church politics were once proscribed for women. The O'Farrells tell of a meeting called in 1862 at Ipswich, which was to be held in the church building after Mass to settle disputes about church internal affairs. It was decided that women and children had no business at the meeting. This desire to exclude women from involvement in public affairs of any kind is partly explained by the contemporary attitudes to Mary as model. She was interpreted as a static, conservative force in which submissiveness was lauded. This interpretation of the woman who showed active concern for others at the Cana marriage, and had the moral fibre to stand by Christ on Calvary is unrealistic, to say the least, and it was reflected in an exalted idea of femininity which was also unrealistic. In the political climate of the time many viewed the demands for female equality as an anti-religious assault on society. In fact the franchise for women was supported by some male Catholics, not because they acknowledged woman's intrinsic worth, but as a means of increasing the anti-socialist vote. In spite of the rather radical working-class origins of Australian Catholicism, by the turn of this century it was beginning to acquire most of the trappings of middleclass respectability. Moreover in the climate of bitter sectarianism which prevailed in Australian society during the early years of this century, Catholics and Protestants saw themselves as arch rivals. Neither faction was prepared to be outnumbered unnecessarily at the polls, so all churches actively encouraged women to enrol once they recognised that extension of the franchise to women was inevitable. Similarly Australian churchmen encouraged the education of 'female children' so that they could better fulfil the functionalist roles

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assigned to them by the unwritten patriarchal norms of the masculine-oriented culture. During the last 75 years the social fabric of our culture has undergone persistent change, and within the Catholic Church this change has been accelerated by Vatican II. Two world wars separated by the depression of the thirties, the increased availability of both elementary and higher education, the universal franchise, rapid improvements in the means of transport and communication have all contributed to a shift in the power base and resulted in a more egalitarian society. In the nineteenth century the power base was land or wealth derived from land, and/or trade and commerce. In today's society information is power, and thanks to the electronic media information is no longer dependent on print literacy. These changes have of necessity had an impact on the Church, for women as well as men are much better educated and more articulate than they were in the early years of Australia's history. Historically, theology and church law have been exclusive male provinces but there are now a small but growing number of women theologians and scripture scholars, in the Catholic and other churches, while women regularly contribute to theological and church publications. Vatican II has been a catalyst in speeding up the changed self-perception and churchperception of women. It makes numerous statements on the value of personhood and the need for Christians to become actively involved in bringing about a more just and humane society. This passage from The Church Today' is pertinent to our discussion and typical of the tenor of the documents of Vatican II generally: Since all men possess a rational soul and are created in God's likeness . . . the basic equality of all must receive increasingly greater recognition. . . . with respect to the fundamental rights of the person, every type of discrimination, whether social or cultural, whether based on sex, race, colour, social condition, language, or religion, is to be overcome and eradicated as contrary to God's intent. For in truth it must still be regretted that fundamental personal rights are not yet being universally honoured. Such is the case of a woman who is denied the right and freedom to choose a husband, to embrace a state of life, or to acquire an education or cultural benefits equal to those recognised for men. . . . Above all the education of youth from every social background has to be undertaken, so that there can be produced not only men and women of refined talents, but

8

The force of the feminine those greatsouled persons who are so desperately required by our times . . . We can justly consider that the future of humanity lies in the hands of those who are strong enough to provide coming generations with reasons for living and hoping.7

The women's movement is instrumental in realising this hope. It calls woman to define herself as a human person, equal in capacity, in aspiration and in sinfulness with men. Modern women, increasingly aware of their potential, see themselves as autonomous, and are increasingly becoming involved in public life in both ecclesiastical and secular spheres. Within the contemporary Catholic Church, women are serving as members of pastoral teams; they are directors of religious education, and prepare adults as well as children for reception of the sacraments. They act as extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist and bring the Sacrament to the aged and bedridden. They are involved in hospital and campus chaplaincies; they preach retreats and act as spiritual directors—even to males. As well they work with Marriage Encounter groups and teenage organisations. They are even occasionally invited to preach to a church congregation, and a very small number lecture in seminaries. Others seek to change the political and social structures which cause and perpetuate poverty and alienation. In spite of these changes, the image projected by church structures is still one of a masculine, clerical and hierarchical system. The structures of the Catholic Church are perceived by some as inhibiting rather than promoting full human and spiritual freedom: a power structure that rewards conformity. It is not surprising then, that some women who wish to minister hesitate to move into this structure, and others leave what they consider a depersonalising system destructive of the Christian spirit of ministry. Other women, and also some men, are disappointed that the Catholic Church is not proceeding to the ordination of women in the foreseeable future. These people see the inclusion of women in the ordained ministry as a means of acknowledging in fact the worth of woman, and of humanising church structures. Humphrey O'Leary has formulated a schema which reflects how the Church has dealt with change in law over the centuries. His five stages are that new discipline is i not mentioned; ii rejected; iii allowed as exception; iv encouraged; and v imposed.8 He gives several examples to support his schema, one of which is the Catholic shift from non-participation to involvement in the ecumenical movement. Others are admission of married men to ordination, and

Woman and the church

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eucharistic intercommunion which are examples of a Stage iii situation. He then suggests that the issue of admission of women to the ministerial priesthood could be construed as a Stage ii situation. It is inconsistent for the Church in her official documents to call for equal opportunities for all persons whether male or female, and in her practice to perpetuate exclusively masculine ministerial and administrative structures. Such a stance is at variance with Paul's famous passage from Gal. 3:28: 'All are baptised in Christ, you have been clothed yourselves in Christ, and there are no more distinctions between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, but all of you are one in Christ Jesus'. I have mentioned the institutionalised structures of church and society which impede necessary and worthwhile change. I see a danger of the Women's Movement succumbing to the same pitfalls, for increasing professionalism and institutionalism is the hallmark of modern society. However an examination of early church practice would help develop a greater awareness and realisation of the contributions that members of a disadvantaged group can make to the welfare of the individuals who constitute it.9 In this respect local social networks are invaluable. There is evidence already that both men and women are beginning to realise that the hierarchical and functionalist approach to relationships between human persons is natural in the same way that moral suffering, degradation and death are 'natural' to us.10 The Christian woman can no longer acquiesce in or accept these evils. There is a need for a spirituality that recognises the feminine and shows how women can be brought into the full liberty of the children of God. This integration demands a thorough spiritual transformation and an education of both men and women into a new set of values, attitudes, aims and relationships. All have within themselves masculine and feminine elements. The masculine in each of us has to eschew the pursuit of power which is divorced from love, rooted in violence, lust and deceit and expressed in arrogance. The feminine in us must refuse to acquiesce in violence and injustice and the acquisition of false power. It must learn to cooperate with the creative force of the Spirit in order to slough off subservience. The spirit of the Lord is given to proclaim liberty, to bring new sight to the blind and to set the downtrodden free (Luke 4:18). In short, we need people who are at one and the same time theologically perceptive, seriously concerned for human welfare and alert to the psychological and sociological dimensions of their work and its effects upon its recipients.11

2 The role of the Church in the education of girls and women EILEEN M. BYRNE If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet Be sure the future would not stand. Elizabeth Barrett Browning Aurora Leigh

We cannot understand the role of the Church in education unless we set our thinking in the context of the historical and social origins of the policies which have their roots in past theology and ideologies. The provision, curriculum and style of education has always been determined by the perceptions of those controlling the education system of the social roles for which they are preparing boys and girls respectively. Because therefore the control of schooling has been mainly in the hands of the established Church for over eighteen of our twenty centuries, it follows that the attitudes of the leadership of the Church towards the education of girls at all, and towards the type of schooling considered suitable, has been a major determinant of their access to and quality of education. Women's invisibility in church affairs reflects an historic undertreatment of their role in Christianity. In the 1981 Sheffield Report of the World Council of Churches on the role of women and men in the Church, a woman consultant from Germany reminded us that 'Church history begins when a few women set out to pay their last respects to their dead friend, Jesus . . . This story as told by Matthew is generally known as the Easter Story, but never as the beginning of Church history . . A1 But what in fact do we mean by the Church? Its leadership defines the Church as the handing down of a core of beliefs, doctrines, dogmas and spiritual experiences, stitched into tradition by the apostolic succession to give us decisive guidance. But in so far as we say with conviction in the Communion service 'We are the body of Christ', we may also see the Church as all of the Christians who commit themselves to active participation in one of the branches of the Church: women and men alike. In this chapter we look at policy and 10

The role of the church in the education of girls and women

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developments in the light of both interpretations, that is, the influence of the established leadership in each age, and the role of individual churchwomen and men in opening up education to women. It is clearly impossible to cover the whole history and ideology in one brief overview, and the account which follows is to be regarded as an illustrative analysis using landmarks in the development or decline of Church influence, rather than a full ecumenical account. Yet although the very different histories of the different branches of Christianity deserve more scholarly and complete justice, there are nevertheless some principal themes and trends which emerge which have transfer value. With rare exceptions, we can substantiate a general conclusion that the leadership of the established Church has hindered the equal access of girls to schooling and education in three ways until very recently: by denying access to systematic schooling at all for nearly a thousand years; by constructing and imposing an inferior and non-vocational education aimed at keeping women subordinate, domestic and socially defined in relation to male kinfolk; and by limiting girls to a less advanced education than their brothers. Nor will readers find here an Australian account, since much of the necessary research remains still to be done which will enlighten the history of the education of women in this country. The limited published Australian sources documenting the Church—State battles have concentrated on the provision and funding of Catholic systemic schooling, rather than on qualitative issues within the theme of church influences. Yet the history of this country lies within the history of England and Europe, and the history of the Church stands sui generis. Today's church attitudes are born in yesterday's policies. It is proposed to look at church influence in four main phases: early Christianity, medieval education, Renaissance and Reformation influences and the post-industrial period. Within these ages, three issues arise. What were prevailing church attitudes to women's role for which education should prepare them? What access did girls have to schooling or higher education? Did they have the same provision and content as their brothers?

Early Christianity Christianity has its roots in the Jewish religion, and it is interesting to note that, by 65 AD, the Jews had established universal elementary education from the age of seven, operative in towns and provinces. However, boys and girls were seen as having different vocations. The

12

The force of the feminine

threefold duty of a Jewish father was to 'instruct his sons in the Law, bring them into wedlock and teach them a handicraft'.2 One must remember that the New Testament, and particularly the Epistles, need to be interpreted against the prevailing practices of the time, and of the age in which their (former Jewish) writers composed them. Donaldson, an Anglican Edwardian scholar of repute, records the prevailing view of the turn of this century that Paul's stringent views on women's subordination were formed by his perception of the character of the women of his native Tarsus (prim and modest and shrouded in appearance but allegedly licentious and corrupt behind their veils).3 Donaldson reminds us that women in late Roman times were socially unfettered, dining in the company of men unveiled, studying literature and philosophy, helping their husbands to govern provinces and defending their own law cases where necessary. 'Accordingly at the very first stage, women take a prominent part in the spread of Christianity'. In the first enthusiasm they were allowed to do whatever they seemed most fitted for because 'the idea that regulated the forms of organisation was that each member should contribute to the Church, in an orderly way, any gift that God had given him'.4 Hence we meet with prophetesses, the four daughters of Philip the Evangelist, women who worked with the apostles in spreading the Gospel, and the original deaconesses. But any expectation that this early equality in the sight of God (from direct evangelism to martyrdom) would lead to equality in education or training for the same roles, vanished by the third century when the cult of virginity began to replace the respectability of widowhood. Deaconesses were limited to functions of doorkeeping at services and preparing women for baptism; they were however prohibited from teaching. Those sects in which women declared the right to preach or prophesy were labelled as heretical. St Augustine of Canterbury, who landed in Britain in 596, proclaimed the doctrine of indissoluble marriage and the total submission of wives and daughters to what he saw as the God-appointed male heads of their households. By the time St Augustine of Canterbury became influential, Tertullian, third-century Carthaginian theologian, had firmly established the anti-marriage ascetic cult for celibacy as a nobler aim than marriage for childbearing. His instruction to women to be silent and to remain in the home, and his designation of children as 'burdens which are to most of us unsuitable, as being perilous to faith', made any serious consideration of children and their education perceivedly irrelevant.5 Fourth-century St Jerome further elevated celibacy as a

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spiritual ambition by his example as a hermit. Augustine's influence on early educational thought was seminal, but in De Magistro he speaks only of schoolmasters and of boys. It is difficult to interpret his treatises on challenging concepts of truth and vision, from his writing on Divine Illumination to his extension of vision and understanding to mathematical theory, as other than intended for male comprehension (De Trinitate). Other early Christian writers such as Clement of Alexandria designated women as temptresses, causing them to be instructed to exercise only 'spinning and weaving and superintending of cooking if necessary' and to be entirely covered. Thus women's role was redefined as both domestic and dependent. At this stage, of course, neither sex had access to schooling ag such, but the expectation that men would become church leaders, would travel, would carry on the oral traditions and written scholarship of the new beliefs, meant that at least a minority of boys received formal teaching. After the Dark Ages, under the influence of Alcuin of York, Charlemagne ordered the establishment of cathedral schools in France in the ninth century, at a time when the Pope also enjoined all bishops in 826 to establish teachers and to inspect the emergent schools in their dioceses. In England, records exist of the decline of the religious nature of the few nunneries in pre-medieval times and their opening to the daughters of the rich laity where they could learn reading, writing, and some rhetoric as well as church embroidery and other crafts. Eadburga, for example, a former English abbess, wrote Latin and taught girls 'in the poetical tradition'.6 Somewhat earlier in 635, Oswald of Northumbria had invited Aidan from lona to establish schools in the region, and these monastery centres of learning certainly produced future (male) clerics for some time before the more systematic provision of town grammar schools in the Middle Ages. All this is notwithstanding the Cura Pastoralis of Pope Gregory I which commanded his bishops to call together 'the people of every condition and sex and plainly teach them who rarely hear the Word of God' (my emphasis). Leach argued that song schools attached to the early cathedral schools (for example, Canterbury and York) were established as early as the ninth century, and that although most schools would be monastic, secular schools to teach Latin would have been established as soon as churches were built.7 Lawson found no evidence of song schools before the twelfth century, but in either event, the provision was still wholly male.8 In the first place, the Licentia Docendi (licence to teach) was held only by bishops from the ninth to the sixteenth

14

The force of the feminine

century, and they accordingly controlled how many boys would be taught to read Latin (fewer to write it), and excluded girls. The purpose of song schools was to teach the plainchant and Latin needed for the liturgy, and hence was also limited to boys by definition.

Medieval education The twelfth-century reorganisation of cathedrals on a collegial basis not only developed them as centres of learning, but represents the first origins of systemic schooling. The development of ecclesiastical and canon law, and the rediscovery of Roman civil law also created a demand for higher education in the burgeoning medieval universities like Paris, Ravenna, Bologna, Oxford and Cambridge. The Third Lateran Council of 1129 (some authorities say 1179) instructed cathedral authorities to give clerics and 'other poor scholars' free instruction in reading, and the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 extended this instruction to all churches. But the schools set up as a result were for the younger priests, deacons and vicars choral, clerks and choristers, who were naturally male. Hence when in due course secular education in these non-monastic schools was opened up to a few children from the upper classes, it was to sons only and not to daughters. This exclusion was more serious than simply exclusion from preparation for roles in the Church. Already some secular knowledge was becoming necessary to back up the growing merchant and trade system. The traditional seven Liberal Arts which were established as the 'core curriculum' were to dominate education until post-Reformation reconstruction. The elementary trivium of grammar, rhetoric and logic, and the quadrivium of geometry, astronomy, arithmetic and music were not available to girls, with very rare exceptions. It is less easy to understand this when one remembers that it was a woman, Aspasia, who in fact taught Pericles and Socrates logic and rhetoric in Athens, and that in feudal England and France, women had to run their husbands' estates, albeit through estates managers, while their husbands were away fighting the Crusades. The rationale for extending education to upper-class sons only was to extend the country's male power base. The strong influence of theologians like Aquinas, who argued that women were 'defective and misbegotten', subsequently provided a further reinforcement of church policy that access to grammar school, cathedral, choir and chantry schools, was inappropriate for girls and women.

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Lawson however holds that the contribution of nuns to medieval education has been much underestimated, and that while it cannot be statistically assessed any more accurately than that of monks, 'relatively it was probably greater, and may indeed have been their chief social justification'. Eileen Power, still one of the most respected authorities on medieval English nunneries, suggested that a majority of them boarded children from the upper classes, typically about twenty or so girls and a few small boys at a time. Unlike the boys' almonry and choir or chantry schools which employed schoolmasters after the Lateran Council edicts, the teaching in the nunnery schools was covered by the nuns themselves. It was not likely that the nuns refrained from teaching the Word of God along with the English, French, needlework and herbal knowledge, reading and (rarely) Latin which was considered an appropriate female curriculum. Although there is of course some evidence of nun scribes by the fourteenth century, and indeed illuminators of manuscripts would have been trained in nunneries from Whitby Abbey onwards, the 'normal' female curriculum would not have included writing (because women did not become church clerics), long after writing became standard for boys in town grammar schools. Out of a population of three million in England in 1500, Power estimated that perhaps 1,000 girls had received some form of convent education.9 It is perhaps a singular irony that the growth of boys-only chorister schools in the fourteenth century had been as a result of the rising cult of the worship of the Virgin Mary.10 Women were similarly excluded from the great movement of medieval universities, for predictable reasons, since the universities sprang out of the development of Scholasticism after Aquinas, the rediscovery of Aristotle in the thirteenth century, and of Quintilian in 1416, as well as the ricochets of the debates on the Great Schism. The widening of university powers beyond the teaching of theology and philosophy to law and medicine (Salerno examined potential doctors from 1231, Bologna taught secular letter writing as an art in the thirteenth century, and Paris became political after the decline of Scholasticism in the fifteenth century), still meant that medieval educators constructed the university faculties around preparation for occupations which had been controlled, by Church and State alike, as only accessible to men. It is often overlooked that medieval education was mainly vocational (Latin was a vocational skill!) and that the concept of liberal education for its own sake was a much later arrival.

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The force of the feminine

The development of a new merchant class and of an embryonic middle class contributed to the laicisation of schooling as the guilds grew in status and power. And here we note the first stage at which, at least in theory, girls are regarded as having the same rights as boys to basic education. In 1406 the Statute of Apprentices declared that a child of either sex could be sent to learn Latin at any school, even villeins, a right which the Church had hitherto strictly limited to boys of the upper class or to intending clerics. Over the next three centuries, town schools were founded by guilds, by mayor and corporation, by the landed gentry for the poor of the town (among the earliest, Wotton-under-Edge was endowed by a Lady Barclay). In a most scholarly work, Fletcher traces how many of these early endowments were founded for children—not boys—and should have been open to girls, but how for four centuries until the Schools Inquiry Commission and its aftermath in 1868 and beyond, the endowments were increasingly and corruptly diverted to provide only for the sons of the merchant and middle classes, or the indigenous yeomanry. Endowments which referred to the 'children of the poor' were not aimed at the kind of poverty which was characteristic of the labouring classes in the nineteenth century, but at the poorer relations of the upper classes and the lower squirearchy and upper tradesmen.11 On the one hand, therefore, we find that increased lay control theoretically widened girls' potential access; on the other, that the concept of 'automatic male priority' merely shifted from the Church to the financial and political power structure. Caution should be observed in interpreting these generalisations, to the extent that the position of girls in the upper, merchant and yeoman classes varied considerably and they merit separate study. For example, Sir Thomas More, a churchman of stature, encouraged his daughter Margaret to study seriously, and her Latin reply to Quintilian and her translation of Eusebius from the Greek to Latin, were praised by Cardinal Pope. Lady Jane Grey read Plato in the original at fourteen, as well as French, Italian, Latin, Hebrew and Arabic.

Renaissance to industrialisation In England, the period up to the nineteenth century is mainly marked by two trends: on the one hand, a steady decline in the quality of education in the grammar and dame schools; on the other, the rise of

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17

dissent and evangelism creating a new demand for literacy. In France, however, three movements became established which were highly significant in the development of educational theory, but which continued the exclusion of girls. The founding of the Jesuit order by St Ignatius Loyola in 1534 gave a further reinforcement to the automatic male priority which had been established through church schooling, and hence in the ladder to power in both Church and State. Loyola being a former soldier, the Jesuit movement was organised on a military basis and focused on teaching the catechism to boys, grammar to male scholars and philosophy and theology to male students in universities. Thus both the classical and theological core of studies in the Ratio Studiorum which dominated schools from 1559 till its revision in 1832, and the nineteenth-century additions of history, geography, mathematics and science, were denied to the Catholic sisters of the 1000-strong boy enrolments of the Jesuit colleges. By 1610, these numbered over 300, some in the New World. The founding of the Oratory schools by Berulle in 1611 'to reform the life and learning of the French clergy', providing in due course for 36 influential Oratory schools, added more male opportunities. Some see the schools of Port-Royal however as more pervasively influential, if more short-lived. The Abbaye of PortRoyal was founded in 1204 southwest of Paris and 'the original aim of the foundation placed under the supervision of the Cistercians was the education of girls'12 (my emphasis) but in a now familiar pattern, the Renaissance church leaders ignored this. By 1637, St Cyran was able to found the Petites Ecoles of Port-Royal for boys only. The Grandes Ecoles were licensed to teach Latin to boys only, university scholars; but the Petites Ecoles had a Licentia Docendi to teach both boys and girls French as the mother tongue. Nevertheless, the Port-Royal schools diverged from their original foundation to teach secondary education to sons but not daughters, because of their perception that women had no part to play in either the church hierarchy or in professional spheres in society. The third great French movement was the Christian Brothers Community, founded in 1684 and currently described as the largest teaching order in the world. These schools of the Christian Brothers sprang from the work of Jean-Baptiste De La Salle, who incorporated charity schools for boys into the new community from the outset. De La Salle's innovations in the area of teacher training (he established one of the earliest seminaries), and his work with adult students, were again limited to young men— unusually for his time, some boys of genuinely poor families.

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The force of the feminine

Meanwhile, for two centuries in England, Reformation and Dissent had as profound an impact on educational policy as they were to have on Church and State politics. One principal influence was the insistence of Dissenters on their right to educate their children (not only their sons) in the way of their conscience and according to their tenets. The new movement, founded as it was on the importance of direct access to the Scriptures for each person, gave equal weight to the right and need of their daughters as of their sons, for the level of education thought suitable to their class. The Society of Friends developed an educational policy from the outset in marked contrast to the more rigid Church of England system, providing an important alternative to the sex-segregated and vocationally segregated schools set up by other church interests later. Quakers believed that men and women were equal in the sight of God, and the Quaker principle of individualism hindered any sex-stereotyping from the start. By 1691 there were fifteen Quaker schools in England which taught science and English as well as Latin to both sexes. Ackworth school, founded in 1779, was described as for both boys and girls 'not in affluence'. By 1840 most of the Friends' schools for the middle classes, (67 in England) were mixed at a time when secondary schooling was not available for middle-class girls elsewhere, and when only church elementary schools were available in towns and villages in Britain. By the 1860s, girls at the Quaker girls' school, The Mount, were studying algebra, geometry and trigonometry some years ahead of the availability of this in the schools to be later founded by Dorothea Beale, Frances Buss and the Girls Public Day Schools Trust.13 Boys of course had had access to mathematics through the Quadrivium since the establishment of medieval education. But even the Quaker movement became influenced by nineteenthcentury sex-differentiation of social roles. Although women had been teachers in nunneries in the Middle Ages, and despite knowledge of many distinguished women scholars over centuries of culture, teacher training at the Quaker Flounders Institute originally provided scholarships for male students only. Scholarships were to be open to women 'only when finances allowed', to enable them to study at the new university centres.14 Characteristic of normal Quaker upbringing, however, was that of Elizabeth Fry, the prison reformer, whose mother Catherine Gurney took as much trouble to teach her daughters because of her belief that boys and girls were equal in the sight of God. Elizabeth learned Latin, French, 'the simple beauties of

The role of the church in the education of girls and women

19

mathematics', modern history and geography, natural history and drawing, in addition to the household economy and sewing thought essential for all girls at the time.15 Some hundred years earlier, in 1737, Susannah Wesley, mother of John and Charles, described to John in a letter the principles and method she had used to bring them up and teach them, and one notes with interest the eighth principle, that [n]o girl be taught to work till she can read very well: and that she be kept to the work with the same application and for the same time that she was held to in reading. This rule also is much to be observed, for the putting children to learn sewing before they can read perfectly is the very reason why so few women can read fit to be heard and never to be well understood.16 Such ideas were advanced for their time, and since the letter was written after many requests from John and Charles for Susannah to do so, one may well argue that the views of this remarkable churchwoman (she conducted household prayers and preached to the family and servants in her minister husband's absence—to his disapproval) were strongly influential in the characteristic Methodist respect for education for girls as well as boys. The children of the poor had experienced less sex-differentiation in that they had had little systematic education at all, for either sex. By the eighteenth century, the medieval grammar schools had fallen into disrepair and disrepute. No elementary school system had been created, despite the longstanding post-Lutheran insistence on direct access to the Bible, until Robert Raikes, Hannah More and Mrs Trimmer started the Sunday School movement for general literacy.17 Only reading was taught, because the prevailing Establishment view was that we are called into a certain rank and station by divine foresight, and writing was not necessary for the lower classes. For the next hundred years, educational policy was to be dogged by the Church's reluctance to open up education beyond what it saw as predestined roles for the poor and for women. Public morals had declined in the eighteenth-century. The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge was founded in 1698 from a desire to reform the young to a more pious orthodoxy, and the breakdown of the old Tudor Poor Law system was accompanied by a new social consciousness of class hierarchy. These and other factors led to the charity school movement which led to further laicisation of church control. Charity schools were set up by citizens (Grey Coat

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Hospital), by Aldermen (Red Maids, Bristol) and only occasionally by the diocese (Launceston); they were paid for by public subscription and provided an endless stream of well-trained domestic servants and craftsmen. One must remember that even this was a much better future in those days than the children of the poor and penurious could otherwise have expected. The early schools were predominantly for girls, but as the movement spread, provision became heavily weighted to boys, for whom public subscription could more easily be raised. But despite the apparent lay control, the Church of England was not prepared to cede its control of the country's educational policy. The pupils were publicly examined in church, some schools were used to combat 'Popery' and all were monitored to prevent children moving above 'their rank and station'. Thus even as industrialisation created new social and educational needs, the Church remained an instrument of reinforcement of social roles which were still seen as theologically predestined.

Nineteenth-century education The history of the opening up of secondary and higher education to women is too complex and detailed to treat here, and interested readers may follow through the different strands of girls' education in the well-documented results of recent research.18 My purpose here is to highlight the contrast of the role of the Church as such and of individual churchwomen and men. The former has been repressive; to the latter we owe our emancipation. For working-class girls, the early schools founded by the National Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor (the Anglican society) reiterated the Church doctrine of obedience and conformity. The facility of communicating instruction by the system now intended to be brought into general use . . . the entire provision which it takes of their minds, so as to render them pliant and obedient to discipline . . . are powerful instruments both for infusing into their minds good knowledge and forming them to good habits.19 Sixty years later, the Church Quarterly Review reported that the vast majority of schools in the country were church schools (grant-aided by government) 'founded to carry out Church views. Education as a whole was a Church work, was so treated by the State, was legislated for on that basis . . .'20 Thus we may expect that the prevailing view of

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21

leading churchmen would define very clearly the education thought appropriate for girls and boys respectively; and it did. The workingclass girl learned the same as her brother in basic education, but was required to learn in due course the cooking, laundry and household management which have bedevilled elementary and high school education for girls ever since. Girls were held to be wholly responsible for homemaking, and the curriculum imposed on them in both church schools and the School Board schools which followed the 1870 and 1876 acts to provide state education, prepared them for domesticity, but their brothers for the labouring (later, the skilled) trades. The sex segregation of the manual crafts and domestic crafts which remains an attitudinal block to boys preparing for parenting and home responsibility, and to girls from entering skilled trades today, has its direct roots in the enforced elementary curriculum of Victorian England. Even the School Boards were often dominated by diocesan interests, as were the great commissions of inquiry into the schooling needs of the new industrialisation. But the thrust for educating more than a chosen elite has tended to follow major reforms not always of the Church's own choosing. Without Tyndale's English Bible and the Lutheran demand for direct Bible teaching in the vernacular, we would probably still have vestiges of a medieval grammar school system—the curriculum of which lingered long past its usefulness in Victorian England. Similarly, two developments accelerated the removal of girls' education from the stranglehold of church dominance: the rise of the commercial middle class who sought more relevant education for their daughters in the latter half of the century, and the devout Church of England women who enlisted their help to demand full and the same secondary education for girls. Archer called them 'a hardheaded, hardworking, religiously minded and commonsense group of middle class women'.21 The history of the founding of the first boarding school for middleclass girls, Cheltenham Ladies College, by Dorothea Beale; of the North London Collegiate school for the daughters of the 'other middle class' (trade) by Frances Buss; the great fight with the Endowed Schools Commission to reclaim the endowments misappropriated for boys over the centuries to provide for secondary schools for girls (of which there were none at the turn of the nineteenth century) are now part of mainstream as well as feminist history. What has been little recorded is the religious motivation which drove these women, devout as they were, to fight for girls' education against the prevailing social and theological climate of their time. On Dorothea Beale's death in

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1906, the Guardian obituary wrote of her as 'a loyal Churchwoman . . . She may take rank not only as a great administrator and educationist but also, we venture to believe, with the great holy women of the past'.22 Dorothea herself, writing of Frances Buss on the death of the latter in 1897 to Joshua Fitch, spoke of her as one who was 'unostentatiously religious, lived in the spirit of prayer, and had the love of God in its twofold sense ever guiding her thought and action'.23 In Dorothea's case, she saw the parable of the talents as directly relevant to girls. 'What is God's work for you, my children? To put out your own talents to interest, to improve and perfect your own powers . . . We may not keep God's gifts for ourselves', she told the college girls just before her death in 1906. Higher education for girls similarly owed its development to leading members of the established Church, despite the views of more than one bishop that woman's place did not lie with mathematics and Greek. The first efforts to provide university lectures for women otherwise doomed to become underpaid and under-educated governesses, owed much to Rev. David Lang, Vicar of Holy Trinity Church, and Rev. Frederick Denison Maurice, who persuaded professors of King's College London to give lectures to governesses to qualify them to teach secondary education in place of the superficial accomplishments inherited from the previous century's decay. Queen's College and Bedford College both owe their origin to a combination of church support and feminist fight. (Two of the first students were Miss Beale and Miss Buss.) Anne Clough, who founded the North of England Council for Promoting the Higher Education of Women in 1867 and was later first principal of the newly founded Newnham College for women, Cambridge, was profoundly influenced by her 'truly religious' mother and herself lived in the 'constant realisation of God's presence'. She will also be remembered for founding the University Association of Women Teachers in 1882.24 Among the many histories now available which cover the fight by Emily Davies and others to open up the university entrance examinations to girls, and to enable them to study the same curriculum (that is, Greek, which had hitherto been limited to boys) the new scholarly study by Fletcher is especially valuable in researching in great detail the patient work of women and men alike, including two schools inspectors, to renegotiate the misappropriated endowments of some hundreds of years back for provision of secondary education for girls in the major towns and cities. Resistance came equally from leading churchmen and from mayors and merchants who held that to use

The role of the church in the education of girls and women

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funds to educate girls' intellect was to go against the will of God, and to take from boys what was their natural, superior right.25 Church opinion was similarly divided on the proper role of women attracted by the call of the cloister to form the sisterhoods which were another main provider of education for girls—often against strong male opposition from bishops and church leaders. Many held that women's place was more properly with marriage and childbearing, and that women had no 'moral right' to dedicate lifelong service to God if the promise involved celibacy and rejection of motherhood. Others saw religious vows as such as leading to 'perversion to Papal. . . schismatical and corrupt Communion'.26 Bishop Tait in particular believed that women's imagination led them to see 'some peculiar sanctity' in the cloistered life which he regarded as more appropriately found for women in 'the quiet discharge of domestic duties'.27 The opposite view was taken by Prebendary Bernard Leslie, who 'had not the slightest doubt that such a life is sanctioned by Holy Scripture as well as the Universal Church' and who soundly criticised episcopal interference with sisterhoods as no more justified than episcopal intervention to prohibit voluntary social work or teaching.28 There was of course nothing new about religious orders for women. The Ursuline order (still one of the leading orders to provide schools for girls) was founded in 1537 by Angela da Brescia. The order of the Catholic Sisters of Mercy was founded in 1838 and fourteen communities now provide schools for girls. Of the Anglican sisterhoods, many saw a special need for schools for girls staffed by women. The Community of the Sisters of the Church, for example, numbers among its 5000 or so children in sisters' schools, girls at single-sex schools in Croydon, York, Liverpool, and in Canada and Australia. The Community of the Holy Family (1898) was rare in being led by a Mother Superior (Mother Agnes Mason) who took a Moral Science Tripos at Cambridge as early as 1886 and the Lambeth Dip. Theol. by thesis, enabling her to centre on advanced education for girls in England and abroad. Others, too numerous to cover here, include a wide variety of provision for all classes of girls. Priscilla Seddon, founder of the Society of the Most Holy Trinity (Ascot, 1848) focused on the needs of orphan daughters of soldiers and sailors, and provided industrial schooling for other needy girls. Others (The Community of All Hallows; the Community of St Thomas the Martyr; the Society of the Holy and Undivided Trinity) concentrated on girls of the new middle class— tradesmen and upper servants—in country towns. The Community of St Mary the Virgin at Wantage added to the reputation of its

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The force of the feminine

schools for girls and Oxford hostel for women a distinguished reputation for education and training in church embroidery, printing of plainchant books and arts at the Wantage school and Community. It is the more unaccountable that so many sisterhoods founded for community work of great social need should have met with opposition from some church leaders who still held that women were unsuited to roles outside the home, given the immediate past history of three queens who played a role in church affairs, the prominence of intellectual women in the Church in the eighteenth century and the known history of outstanding abbesses in the Middle Ages. Hilda of Whitby ran a major organisation in her abbey, using political skills and financial experience to maintain it, teaching skills to staff it, management skills to control it and intellectual skills in spiritual leadership of her nuns. Precedents were not lacking in church history. Yet we began the last century with a prevailing view of women as saintly influences—on the very young—who should not be absent from those who needed them whatever their own personal talents. Writing in the Christian Observer of 1812 a reviewer of the current (if decadent) systems of education referred to the inauspicious religious career of the scholar removed from his mother, Tor to the fair sex are we in general indebted for whatever piety is instilled into our infant minds'. This view of women's non-intellectual role persisted throughout most of the Victorian age, the few churchmen who allied themselves to the feminist pressure for equal and open education being regarded as neither typical nor wholly respectable by the leadership. More characteristic of those who served on the commissions and boards of the time was the writer in the Church Quarterly Review of 1876 who believed that 'female readers can hardly be expected to read for intellectual self-improvement's sake. A girl with a true thirst for knowledge is rare . . . Lads on the other hand who have some intelligence and ambition, especially if put to trades that only occupy their hands, often do like instructive reading and will pursue it in after life. They need a full supply of books'.29 It would be not surprising if the daughters of Victorian households had not acquired a taste for intellectual reading. The curriculum controlled by the head of household for those given some home education, and by the clergymen who dominated the governing boards of the schools for daughters of gentlefolk and middle-class merchants and bankers, had been purged of any subjects of substance except in those rare Nonconformist homes which we have noted, and left with a vapid diet of light literature, music, some languages and drawing.

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The most serious criticism that the pioneers of an equal and identical curriculum for girls faced from the politicians, clergy and academics who opposed them was that they risked making young women unladylike and unpious. After achieving the access which had been steadily eroded since the medieval and Renaissance growth of schools, women caught in the time of the Anglo-Catholic revival of a pressured industrial society, found that they had been placed on a pedestal of role-playing from which descent not infrequently meant the loss of marriage and therefore of security. Tertullian was alive and well: marriage and no external career, or the freedom of Aspasia but no respectability except for a gifted upper-class few. Women's progress through the development of educational opportunity has all the hallmarks of the Sisyphus syndrome. Opportunity gained has had to be rewon and retaken after reversal in a cyclical reflection of changing views of Church and State on the appropriate roles for which both are preparing the boys and girls in the homes (girls did not even reach the classroom at certain periods). It is arguable that the leadership of the Church has used its power and control of provision, until very recently, to reinforce automatic male priority for whatever was rationed at the time; school places to learn the Latin that opened up clerical work; grammar-school education for the knowledge necessary for trade, marketing and access to political structures; liberal education which upper-class young men seized as of right, however wealthy, as the key to a dynamic open society. Education is the key lifechance to money, power, influence and reform. Differentiation of education means different outcomes in the power structures of Church and State alike.

The Church and education today Much has been left out of this brief historical overview. It would be possible, given space, to trace the gradual changes in male and female curricula over the centuries where this has been controlled by church interests. Noticeable differences in educational policy for girls and women between systems and countries which are respectively Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran or other Protestant in their main faith, have been noted in Europe.30 In countries which are strongly Catholic (Italy, Ireland), both the system and the curriculum are strongly sexsegregated, with a heavy accent in girls' educational programs on their future family roles or on occupational preparation for traditionally 'feminine' labour market sectors. (In Ireland, grammar school

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The force of the feminine

education is still mainly provided by the church schools.) In strongly secular countries where church schools are a minority of total provision and with mainly Protestant faith (Denmark, Britain), there is a wider overlap between programs attractive to boys and girls respectively. One phenomenon is however common to most countries. A very high proportion of the single-sex girls' schools which remain are Catholic or Anglican schools. There are two trends in church education today which are likely to be detrimental to girls' advancement, and to the advancement of women teachers. The first is the increased laicisation of the schools formerly run by Catholic and Anglican sisters. The second is the increasing reorganisation of these and other single-sex schools as coeducational. The laicisation of church girls' schools has resulted in a steady replacement of women principals and female staff by male equivalents, and even the appointment of male heads to girls' schools. There is no recorded case of the appointment of a woman head to a boys' school. This, apart from removing promotion opportunities for women staff, also removes role models of women in leadership from the girls' schools. There is a growing research-based hypothesis that the presence of women in leadership and of women teachers of maths and science, is one of the principal positive influences which encourage girls to take 'non-traditional' options in secondary and higher education. The further move towards coeducation raises more complex issues. Over the last decade, there has been conflicting research evidence about differential achievements of boys and girls respectively in mixed and in single-sex schools. Some of the current theory is based on anecdotal rather than research-based evidence, but scholarly work in the area of the teaching of maths and science in Britain and in the USA suggests that girls perform better in an all-girls environment, but boys better in mixed schools. The issue is one of some complexity, and merits study in its own right, but to the extent that church authorities are among the main providers of single-sex schools in Australia, the policy of reorganisation would justify more serious review than perhaps it has received so far, in the specific context of the impact of coeducation on equal and the same education for girls and boys. At a time when the ordination of women is being debated more seriously than ever against increasing evidence that there is either no scriptural authority for the ordination of men, or there is authority for both sexes, the messages that our children receive in school about male and female roles can no longer remain irrelevant to the Church.

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Moreover, social and technological reconstruction are affecting both the labour market and changing sex roles in the home, creating added societal stresses. It becomes more critical that thinking members of the active Christian community remove stereotypes from past church history as models on which to base current church policies, and look at society as its needs face us today. If God put 51 per cent of the world's brains in female heads, He did not intend us to bury our talents in a narrow field.31 And it is as important that the boys in our schools receive the message that men and women are equal in the sight of God as that our girls learn to expect to achieve to the height of their talent and not according to a perceivedly predestined and separate role. As one looks back on the Church's gifts to women, one sees that they equal neither in scale nor quality the gifts which we have given the Church and our own society. We have received second measure over the centuries, in return for martyrdom in early Christianity, and community service throughout the years, stitching together again the fabric of societies torn by wars—often religious wars. The steps to be taken to enable the feminine perspective to be heard in the government of the Christian Church as well as under its marquees and behind the coffee urns, will not be achieved unless the boys as well as the girls in our schools learn from the church leadership that 'there is neither male nor female but we are all one in Christ'. The Church is built on a rock. The children in our schools are our future rock, and we cannot build a future on the sands of past educational discrimination or present indifference. Talents are equally distributed between the sexes, and education remains the key lifechance in achieving the fulfilment of these. Women's role in the Church is to use their Godgiven talents wherever these may lie, and the role of educators is to develop actual gifts and not assumed 'femininity' according to a male-defined Tertullian perception of female inferiority. Women's role is to lead a strengthened Christian community in an increasingly lost world.

3 Sexism and fundamentalism BARBARA THIERING

The word 'fundamentalism' has been introduced to the public in recent years by journalists. It was applied first to the Muslim revolution, which revived a traditional sexual code and grounded it in primitive Islamic theology. Then, with the visit to Australia of the American Protestant preacher, the Reverend Jerry Falwell, in 1982, the word was more correctly used for his combination of biblical dogmatism with an absolutist attitude to moral values. A group called Toleration—a coalition against fanaticism' sprang into existence in Sydney in reaction to his visit. In 1984 Jerry Falwell led a significant faction in the US presidential election, and has been observed to be moving towards a new kind of American established religion which endangers the separation of Church and State. Originally, the word 'fundamentalism' was used simply for an attitude to the Bible. There is little doubt in the minds of most historians of Christianity that it is a recent phenomenon, and one which is so at variance with classical Christianity that, if we were back in the days of orthodoxy, it would have to be called a heresy. It came into existence in the late nineteenth century, and from its inception flourished in the southern states of the USA. After the First World War it became characteristic of Sydney Protestantism, as its main weapon in the battle against Roman Catholicism. The effect of fundamentalism was to give to the Bible the same sort of authority, based on infallibility, which the Roman Catholic Church had declared for the Pope in 1870. Both Protestants and Catholics were setting up an intellectual authority against the invasions of scientific rationalism, but fundamentalism stepped right into the camp of science by claiming that the factual statements of the Bible had the same kind of 28

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truth as scientific descriptions, took priority over them, and were 'proved' by the methods of science. One reason why biblical fundamentalism flourished in Sydney was that a form of it had been planted here from the beginning. In 1788 the Wesleyan revival had thoroughly permeated the working classes in England, and it was from their lowest levels that the convict founders came. The first chaplain, the Reverend Richard Johnson, was appointed by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. In Manning Clark's words, [h]is sponsors entertained great hopes for the success of his work, that he would prove a blessing to lost creatures, and hasten the coming of that day when the wilderness became a fruitful field, when the heathen would put off their savageness, and put on the graces of the spirit. To assist him the Society provided a library of tracts and books . . . In addition to Bibles, Books of Common Prayer, and Psalters, Johnson took with him copies of Osterwald on the necessity for reading the scriptures, Kettlewell's offices for the penitent, copies of exercises against lying, of cautions to profane swearers, of exhortations to chastity, of dissuasions from stealing, together with the most fervent wishes from the board of the Society that the divine blessing might go with him.1 The Bible was already a symbol of class struggle, and remained so for a long time wherever there was a deep resentment against the ruling classes. The historical circumstances meant that it was given an extraordinary position here as the sole source of religious authority. The convicts and working-class settlers were going to a place where they had no church, and they lacked a sufficient sense of derivation from the Church in England to be able to claim to carry its essence among themselves, unlike the Pilgrim Fathers in North America. Thus, probably for the first time in its history, Christianity was planted in a country on the basis of the Bible alone, rather than on the Bible and the Church, the two traditional pillars. Further, the dependence on the Bible was held by people who were largely illiterate, and made little connection between relying on it and reading it. Thus began the tradition of making it a magic talisman, no different from a cross or a set of rosary beads, an unsuitable basis on which to add a belief, started in the early twentieth century, that its contents consisted of rational propositions about the physical world.

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In the United States, the emphasis was not so much on the Bible as a symbol or magical object as on the Bible as a depository of Christian beliefs that were said to be fundamental and unshakeable, something against which adherence to religion could be measured. Its history has been traced by Gabriel Hebert in his book Fundamentalism and the Church of God. Its formal phase began with the publication by the Testimony Publishing Company of Chicago, Illinois, between 1909 and 1915, of three million booklets free of charge to 'every pastor, evangelist, missionary, theological professor, theological student, Sunday School superintendent, YMCA and YWCA secretary, in the English speaking world, so far as the addresses of all these can be obtained'.2 The essentials of belief that were called fundamentals in these booklets were emphatically Protestant; in fact Roman Catholicism was classed with heresies. They included: the doctrine of the Atonement (that Christ died vicariously for sinners); the deity of Christ; the reality of hell and the devil; the virgin birth of Christ; the second advent. The authority for these was the Bible, said to be a revelation direct from God, infallible and inerrant. The treatment of it which was then coming into use as a result of both Darwinism and the new comparative literature from the Ancient Near East was condemned as fallacious if not wicked, because it implied that the Bible was a record of human development in a particular place at a particular time, a point of view which was said could not be held side by side with a belief that it was a direct revelation from God in true form for all time. Fundamentalism rapidly became a bad word, associated with bigotry and fanaticism, and in 1955 the Reverend John Stott said that he preferred in its place the term 'conservative evangelical'. This label was accepted, and is still proudly worn by a very large section of the Protestant Church in Sydney, especially the Anglicans. John Stott himself was among those considered for the position of Archbishop of Sydney in 1982. In their original form, as stated in the series of booklets, the selection of 'fundamentals' had no precedent in the previous creeds of the Christian Church. The doctrine of Atonement was of course a central tenet of the Reformation, being one of its weapons against the temporal power of Rome, for it meant that every person could gain salvation directly by identification with Christ's death without the intermediacy of a priest. But its meaning had always included admission into a community, which was entered by means of the symbolic death of baptism. Without a strong emphasis on Church, the

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idea of atonement simply becomes a piece of magical thinking, making no sense, and this is the form in which these booklets teach it. A belief in the second coming of Christ was held in the first century AD, when they were using a calendar dated from the creation of the world which was about to reach the year 4000, and under contemporary Pythagorean influence they believed that a great crisis ought to happen in that year. Once the Christian era replaced their calendar, the basis for belief in a second coming was removed, and such expectations moved further and further to the fringes of the Church. Doctrines such as the virgin birth, hell and the devil, were part of the contemporary popular language of the hellenistic period, and were simply accepted and to some extent refined by the Church; they never taught them in opposition to accepted belief, as supernaturalists now try to do; miracles are no longer a common assumption. Further, there never had been such a doctrine of the Bible—infallible and inerrant— even in the Reformation. It was not the detailed information that it contained, but its power as a means of independence of priests, that made the Protestants hold to it. Luther stood quite cheerfully in judgment upon it, selecting those parts of the New Testament he liked and deriding others. The Apostles' Creed contains no statement about the Bible. The attribution of infallibility to the Bible seems to be a direct reaction to the doctrine of papal infallibility promulgated in 1870. In both cases, the hardening of authority was a response to a loss of actual power. The label 'evangelical', now associated with fundamentalist belief, has been removed from its original context of meaning. The evangelical revival in eighteenth-century England was a recovery of fervour, aroused by the powerful preaching of men like Wesley and Whitefield. Preaching the gospel gives the word 'evangelical', the gospel being a challenge to personal commitment to the figure of Christ. Its meaning is discussed in the Bible, but could be understood without it, being preserved in a continuing community. The Bible became secondarily connected with the evangelical revival, because it was the working classes in England who were aroused by it and given the strength to stand up against the ruling classes, whose advantage was their education. Schooled in the principles of the Enlightenment, they had reduced religion to a rational formula which is certainly not found in the Bible. But the Bible does contain the gospel, the good news, and so it became the manual of the uneducated in their fight against cold rationalism. Now, however, the word 'evangelical' is used

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for a process of strict reasoning from an assumption that the Bible is a lawbook containing a set of absolute propositions. Enthusiasm and fervour are on the whole distrusted by the Evangelicals, as shown by their reaction to the charismatic outbreak of the 1970s. The best-known product of biblical fundamentalism, still very much current as a matter of legal, educational and sociological concern, is the doctrine of creationism, which is opposed to the theory of evolution as an account of the way species came into existence. The so-called 'monkey trial' in the United States in 1926 dramatised issues which are still being fought out in their legislation and have now found their way here, with the growth of fundamentalist schools as part of a new phase of private education. Children are being taught that God created human beings directly in their present form, and all species independently, and that it is a matter not only of science but of personal salvation and moral wholeness that this should be believed. The answer of academic biblical scholars to this and related questions is derived from both theology and historical records. The accounts of the creation and flood found in Mesopotamia in the second half of the nineteenth-century show beyond doubt that they belong to the category of myth. They are intertwined with the stories of gods, and are a kind of primitive metaphysics: an attempt to talk about the nature of reality in terms drawn from human experience. They picture the way things must have been in the light of the way things are now; for example, since conflict between opposing forces leads to a creative synthesis, they pictured the mother goddess Tiamat fighting against the hero god Marduk and being defeated, with the result that the physical world came into existence. The Old Testament is using the same sort of language to put forward a different philosophical point of view: that the world is unified, entirely under the control of a single god, not the helpless victim of a cosmic dialectic. There is every reason to suppose that Genesis is consciously revising and purifying an existing creation story in the interests of monotheism and the observance of the sabbath. Its concern is with theology and ritual, not with natural science. Theology has also recognised the place of myth and symbol in theological language. As soon as we use language at all, we are dealing in images and symbols, not with things directly. The religious language of the past used them far more extensively. To say that 'God created' is to use a picture derived from our own experience, not from any evidence in the natural world. We create things, and because of that we say that what is out there must be created. 'Creation' is

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simply a human category of thought. How can we—dare we—say that the whole of the universe really and actually corresponds to human categories of thought? By the same process, we say that God, acting like a person, is a super-person, and because the dominant persons are male, he also is male. His 'providence' (also a human category) is symbolised by calling him 'father'. But even in Old Testament times they saw the fallacy of calling God a super-person. After the exile the Jews stressed transcendence, not anthropomorphism. So far off did the Jews place God that they would not even pronounce the Name. The Christians, to preserve this insight, inserted a human-divine person for the sake of those who still needed a picture.

Fundamentalism as moral absolutism The second phase of fundamentalism began to appear in the 1960s and 1970s, in England and America, and was rapidly taken up in Australia. The excesses of sexual experimentation of the sixties led to increasing interest in and concentration on abnormalities, and the public media were the places where the interest was expressed. The degree of explicitness was becoming hurtful to some, and sensitive observers needed to protest. Their cause was taken up by religious people who had been increasingly driven into a corner on doctrinal and dogmatic questions, but who found with relief that they had something to say on moral questions. The Church does act as a repository of traditional wisdom on human behaviour, and can still claim to be the custodian of moral law. But then a difficulty arose for Protestants, who as the dominant tradition in England, the United States and Australia found themselves given the new responsibility. Where is their moral law? Once again they suffered from their separation from the Church's magisterium, whose work has been to adapt continually in the light of enshrined principles. Their only alternative authority was the Bible, and to this many of them turned, encouraged by the definition it had already been given, that it was a collection of fundamentals which had absolute authority. Those fundamentals were now seen as moral propositions. The 'fundamentals' of the Moral Majority, put very simply, are: God's law says that you must live in a family consisting of a husband and wife and their two or three immediate offspring. Monogamy is

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right, divorce is wrong, abortion is wrong, homosexuality is wrong. A woman's first duty is to be a wife and mother. The man's first duty is to be the provider, and care and emotion are not so important to him. The man is the authority and head, the woman must defer to him. Behaviour depends on sex roles, which divide all human beings into two different categories. Marriage is the only healthy condition for adults; other conditions are either inferior or perverse. These tenets have only to be stated to show what their origin is: they describe the social customs of Western capitalist countries for about the last 100 years. They may or may not be a good way to live, but there is no evidence whatsoever that they are divine law, or have any absolute validity. It is untrue and quite misleading to say that they are contained in the Bible: they are not. Neither the Old nor the New Testaments knows anything about the nuclear family. In the Old Testament, pre-exilic Israel lived in tribal groupings which were undergoing a process of urbanisation. The normal way of life was to live in large settlements outside the towns consisting of a patriarchal figure, his several wives and concubines, their numerous children, and large numbers of servants or slaves. Women and slaves had the legal status of animals, as shown in the Ten Commandments: 'You shall not covet your neighbour's wife, or his slave, or his ox, or his ass.' The wife of a slave belonged to her master, not to her husband. In the New Testament, the main teaching on family life is that the family unit is undesirable. With increased urbanisation family groups were becoming more usual, and the Christian Church led the way in a process of preventing them hardening into a norm. It now appears, from increased knowledge of the contemporary setting, that one of the main reasons why the Church succeeded was that it included an attempt to substitute community for family. Aided by the new interest in the vocation of celibacy that was coming into Judaism from Hellenistic thought, it taught that the highest way of life was one of sexual abstinence, as it released one for a spiritual vocation or life of social dedication. Marriage was a regrettable necessity, and married couples should not be an isolated unit but be closely integrated into the community, so that they did not even have private property but gave all their property into the common stock. Relationships in these communities were to take priority over natural ones, and if necessary be a substitute for them. Jesus is credited with saying: If any one comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters . . . he cannot be my disciple'

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(Lk 14:26). He rejected his mother and brothers and sisters and, turning to the friends around him said that they were his mother and family. .The members of such spiritual families called each other 'mother', 'father', 'sister' and 'brother'. St Paul said that his own unmarried state was a preferable one, that a married man is divided in his loyalties, but that when a man is married his duty to his wife is to love her. Nothing is said about having to provide for her—both were supported by the community. The nuclear family code, far from being derived from the Bible, is the product of the growth of the middle class in the nineteenthcentury. Patricia Grimshaw3 has seen this also. She traces the breakdown of the earlier working-class rural family, in which all the members shared equally in production under the patriarchal head, to the change where the father went to work outside the home, as the employee of another man. He earned enough to keep his whole family, so the wife gained greater leisure, and began to elevate the care and education of children to a full-time task. It was a more egalitarian arrangement in many ways, and at first was treated as the model life. But the husband compensated for his own subordination by limiting his wife's chances to be independent of him. It may be added that the nuclear family code also derives from the growth of cities and suburbs, at a considerable distance from one another because of the use of cars. Women were confined to their houses, one to each house, and were expected to accept the imprisonment as ordained by nature or by God. It is simply not possible to give a theological sanction to these arrangements: the matter is one for sociologists and psychologists to debate. Another common attitude does, however, come closer to New Testament teaching: that the male in the family is to be the head. Ephesians 5 states this explicitly, basing it on a doctrine of hierarchy in the Church. Sydney Anglicans, for whom the Bible, defined as a set of propositions, is the ultimate authority, use the passage to prevent women being ordained, as the office involves the exercise of authority. It has always been the task of theology to adapt Christian teachings to the conditions of a new age, in order to educate that age in its own language. From the very beginning there have existed side by side in the Church those who have learned the new language, and those who have not yet applied it. The passage in Ephesians is an example of this. Elsewhere in the New Testament it is apparent that Christians, under the direct guidance of Jesus, had attacked the hierarchical and exclusive Jewish system that lay behind them, one in which priests

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were superior to laymen, and Gentiles were the lowest of all. Jesus himself, although not an Aaronite priest, had adopted the functions of priests by granting forgiveness of sins ('the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins'). Once it had rejected the privileges of Aaronite priests, the Church was able to break away from Judaism. All unclean persons—slaves, Gentiles and women—were now given full rights. The Lord was to act, not as a superior, but as a servant, as was vividly illustrated by the washing of feet at the Last Supper. Christianity does not stand for hierarchy, but for the equality of all before God. But every now and then in the Church's history there has been a return to hierarchy, with the priesthood or clergy claiming a superior position. Such a distortion has always been followed by a lay revolution. The last great occasion was the Protestant Reformation, which broke the power of Rome. We are at present witnessing a revolt of another significant part of the laity—women. If the spirit of Christ is still in the Church, the reformation of which they are at the centre will lead to major historical consequences. The group of Sydney women who nailed a new Ninety-Five Theses to the door of St Andrew's cathedral in 1983 were not simply being provocative, but recognising the tradition in which they stand. It is not difficult to foresee a great change in theological language also. To speak of God as male is, as suggested above, a culturally determined symbol. Such crude anthropomorphism is again being challenged, and the result will almost certainly be a purer doctrine of God. In the meantime, however, the dominant churches in Sydney are sufficiently opposed to the ordination of women to have claimed an exemption under the NSW Anti-Discrimination Act. Section 56 not only allows religious bodies to refuse to ordain women, racially different people, and the physically handicapped, but to refuse to appoint them in any capacity whatever. They will not necessarily use the right, of course, but the exemption is there. A reader of the New Testament might point out that to claim it would be directly contrary to the stand Jesus took against the Jews, when he accepted women, Gentiles, the blind and the lame, the rejects, in other words. We appear to be in the ironical situation where the state is enforcing a Christian law in the place of the churches. It is, of course, not only biblical fundamentalism that sanctions the rejection of women. Some of the same attitudes are found in churches which rely on tradition rather than the Bible. A concentration on prayer and worship, characteristic of Roman Catholic, Anglo-Catholic

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and Orthodox churches, tends to emphasise ritual purity and to oppose it to sexuality, with the exclusion of women as the symbols of sex. It is evident that women are excluded from religious practice for a great variety of reasons, and this means that it is not simply from caprice or habit. It is much more deeply based in the human psyche, and has to do with the link between sex and religion that Freud observed. It seems clear enough that the suppression of one leads to the stimulation of the other. While women are understood, and understand themselves, as primarily objects of sex, they will be found to be an impediment to religion. But the higher forms of religion have gone beyond primitivism or fundamentalism on this matter. Neither women nor men are treated as simply objects of sex to one another. In Christ there is neither male nor female' is a statement derived from the central Christian doctrine of reconciliation of opposites, the doctrine on which the Church itself was founded as a community accepting Gentiles on an equal basis with Jews. For Christians, there is enough within our own tradition to be able to point out that current official attitudes are a debasement of the faith. Both fundamentalism and sexism are distortions; it is for our own generation of reformers to point this out.

4 The ordination of women On whose side is the Bible? KEVIN GILES

In the continuing discussion among Anglicans in Australia about the ordination of women, biblical teaching has been a key issue. Those opposed to women ministers often insist that Scripture is the basis of their objection. The appeal to the Bible is most frequently made by Anglicans of Protestant Evangelical persuasion (sometimes called Low Church) but it is also raised by those of Anglo-Catholic persuasion (sometimes called High Church). The biblical teaching that is believed to be threatened is, however, not the same for both parties. Protestant Anglicans claim that the apostolic comments about women's subordination is the main concern. The Church should do nothing to overthrow this principle. In particular it should not set women over men in the church by allowing them to teach from the pulpit. Catholic Anglicans, on the other hand, make much of the fact that Jesus chose twelve men as apostles and no women. The apostles, they claim, are the first ministers and set a pattern for all times. For this reason the Church should not allow women to preside at the altar. At first sight both objections seem to raise insurmountable obstacles to the ordination of women. Few Christians would want to deliberately contradict what is perceived as the clear teaching of the New Testament in matters of faith and conduct. A critical evaluation of these arguments and a fresh consideration of what the Bible actually says about the ministry of women suggests however, that in neither instance is the case as clear-cut as we have been led to believe. The appeal to Scripture on this issue is more complex than many realise for three main reasons. First, the New Testament says very little, if anything, about ordination as such. The Church of the apostles was a lay institution. Neither men nor women are ever called

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priests; we find no instance of one person in sole charge of a church, and great freedom and variety was allowed in patterns of ministry. Second, the* Bible does not seem to speak with one voice. Numerous examples can be found of women involved in all kinds of spiritual leadership in the New Testament Church (we will discuss these later) but at the same time we find texts which subordinate women and demand their silence (for example 1 Cor. 14:34; 1 Tim. 2:11-12). Third, the ordination of women raises the thorny problem of the extent to which cultural differences should be taken into account. Women in the apostolic age were, as a general rule, married in their very early teens, normally pregnant or nursing from then on, seldom given formal education and granted few rights in common law. Should we then directly apply statements addressed to women in that context to women living in modern Western society where none of these restrictions exists?

The central issue In this debate the fundamental issue is in fact not women's ordination but whether or not we Christians are going to continue to insist that because a woman is a woman and for no other reason she must be excluded from leadership in the Church. The present position is that no matter what the training, spiritual gifts or perceived calling of a woman may be she cannot lead in Church solely because she is a woman. Those opposed to the ordination of women hotly affirm their belief in the personal equality of the sexes, but when the situation is analysed it is soon seen that women are not being treated as full human beings. The more prestigious, ego-enhancing, leadership positions are all reserved for men and the jobs men do not want such as missionary work in difficult and dangerous locations, minding children, teaching Scripture in schools, the flowers and the tea are left to women. It is like saying we believe women are equal but they can only be nurses not doctors, articled clerks not lawyers, voters not parliamentarians—as was indeed the case once. For long centuries the Church simply reflected the attitude of society to women and no one questioned their lowly status. It has been the dramatic change in the position of women in modern Western society that has forced the Church to begin to think afresh. God's work in history has written the agenda for us. Society at large has granted women equality of status and opportunity. The only institution now

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left which still raises discrimination against women to the level of principle is the Church. Does the Bible demand this? I for one think not.

Jesus Jesus always granted women equality of consideration.1 Despite the fact that in first-century Jewish culture, as a general rule, women were subordinated to men, we find virtually no trace of this in Jesus' attitude or teaching. He called women as his disciples, he taught them and he died for them as well as for men. He did not criticise the woman of Samaria when she preached about him to her men kinsfolk (John 4), and after the resurrection he sent two women to proclaim the news of his victory over the grave to the frightened male disciples (Matt. 28:10, John 20:17). Men of his day, as today, insisted that women should keep to women's things, but not Jesus. He commended Mary for listening to his teaching (usually a male preserve) and criticised Martha for her preoccupation with domestic chores (Luke 10:38-42). The thought that woman's noblest calling was to bear and care for children Jesus challenged by stating that hearing and obeying his word must always come first (Luke 11:27-28). It was the same for women and men. As far as marriage was concerned Jesus said not one word which would suggest that he believed husbands had been set over wives. He saw the ideal pattern in Genesis.2 Before sin entered the world man and woman were created as personal equals. The goal of marriage was not an obedient servile wife but the union of two persons. Both parties were equally responsible for the success or failure of this God-initiated bond (Mark 10:6-12). The one possible exception in Jesus' bestowal of equality upon women was his choosing of the twelve apostles who were all men. So much has been made of this by opponents of women's ordination that one would think it was the central point of Jesus' teaching about the sexes. Two weighty reasons and numerous incidental ones can be given as to why Jesus did not include women among the twelve. First, the twelve apostles symbolised the formation of the new people of God, the new Israel. As the original twelve patriarchs had been men, men needed to be chosen as the founding fathers of the new Israel if the symbolism was to be recognised. Second, the foremost task of the twelve apostles was to bear witness to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. In Jewish law a woman's testimony was of no value. As

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males alone could be witnesses Jesus had to choose men. We might also remember that the twelve were all Jews but we find no one arguing that all ministers should be converted Jews!3 An isolated fact should, however, not be singled out. What is important is Jesus' general attitude and his specific teaching. This we suggest shows that Jesus gave no place to the thought that women should be subordinated in the home or society but rather insisted that they should be granted equality of consideration. But as he said nothing directly about the structure of the Church or its ministry it is only by inference that we can draw him in to support equality of opportunity in ministry. Nevertheless I believe this conclusion is the only one that follows naturally from the evidence.

The Acts and Epistles Direct insight into the ordering and life of the Church is found not in the Gospels but in the Acts and the Epistles. The relevant material on ministry divides itself into three categories: theological or normative statements, descriptive statements and regulative statements. We will consider these in turn. Theological or normative statements It is important to remember that it is gifts of ministry not ordination which is of central interest in the New Testament.4 Leadership was given in the congregation as the Holy Spirit raised up and empowered individuals. In a few cases the laying on of hands is mentioned, but not always, and even then it is only a prayerful recognition of gifts already possessed. The following texts reveal the basic apostolic understanding of Christian ministry. Acts 2:17-18 In the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions and your old men shall dream dreams; yea, and on my menservants and my maidservants in those days I will pour out my Spirit and they shall prophesy. This prediction by the prophet Joel, Peter understood, was fulfilled when the Holy Spirit was given at Pentecost. The gift of the Spirit meant that men and women would be empowered to proclaim the

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Word of God. The gift of the Spirit carried with it gifts of ministry for the whole Church. 1 Cor. 12:7 To each is given the manifestation of spirit for the common good. In 1 Corinthians chapters 12 and 14 Paul enunciates his view of ministry. In the congregation the Spirit gives to each member a gift or gifts for the edification of the whole.5 Some teach, some speak in tongues, some lead in singing, some have gifts of healing, some are administrators and so on. It is impossible to read into Paul's discussion the idea that only men are given these gifts or the more important ones are reserved for men. In order of importance he ranks prophecy as the most important congregational ministry (1 Cor. 14:1-3), and interestingly this is one gift he specifically says women exercised (1 Cor. 11:5). Virtually the same teaching, again devoid of sexual bias, is found in Rom. 12:4-8 and Eph. 4:4-16. 1 Peter 4:10-11 As each has received a gift employ it for one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who utters oracles of God, whoever renders service, as one who renders it by the strength which God supplies. Once more the teaching is clear. Ministry flows from the gift or gifts given. It has nothing to do with one's sex. Descriptive statements The correctness of our reading of these primary theological statements about ministry is convincingly proved by the fact that the apostolic description of ministry in the early churches fits this picture perfectly.6 Luke, Paul and John7 all mention women who prophesied in Christian assemblies (Acts 21:9, 1 Cor. 11:5, Rev. 2:20). This is a very important point, for prophecy is unquestionably a form of preaching8 and in order of importance it ranks before ordinary teaching.9 We should not be at all surprised to hear of the spiritual leadership of these women, for in Old Testament days God frequently raised up women prophets, some of them married women, to lead his people.10 Paul commends his fellow labourers in preaching the Gospel, Mary (Rom. 16:6), Tryphaena, Tryphosa and Persis (Rom. 16:12) and Euodia and Syntyche (Phil. 4:3). Luke warmly describes the exceptional teaching gifts of the married couple Prisca and Aquila who taught Apollos 'the way of God more accurately' (Acts 18:24-28).

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Luke, and Paul who also knows this couple, usually name Prisca first which may suggest she had some preeminence in the relationship. In the larger circle of apostles which included such people as Paul, Barnabas, James, Silas etc., Paul mentions Junia (Rom. 16:7). Our modern translations usually give a male name Junias in the text but recent research has shown that no commentator before the twelfthcentury accepted the poorer reading which gave her a sex change.11 Twice Paul speaks of women deacons (Rom. 16:1; 1 Tim. 2:9), and twice he uses the term elder of women (1 Tim. 5:2 Tit. 2:3). We need not go on. The picture is clear. Any discussion of the ordination of women that does not mention these facts is incomplete and unconvincing. Regulative statements Often the apostles were asked to give direction on specific problems that had arisen in a given congregation. In many of these cases it is extremely difficult to know exactly what the problem was because we have so little information to go on. We need not consider all these passages as most of them do not bear upon the topic we are discussing. There are just three that demand consideration. The first allows women to preach in church; the other two would seem to disallow them to do so. The first passage is 1 Cor. 11:2-16. Apparently the Corinthians had asked Paul about appropriate head coverings in church. The apostle replies that the tradition established is that men when they pray or prophesy should leave their heads uncovered and when women lead in prayer or prophesy they should cover their heads (1 Cor. 11:4-5). We do not know what sort of head covering was used or what it symbolised in that society. Translators often add the word veil but this term does not appear in the Greek. By a strange twist of ecclesiastical exegesis this advice was taken to mean that when women came to church as passive spectators they should wear decorative hats! The main point, the apostolic acceptance of the declarative ministry of women, was completely overlooked. The Corinthians also asked Paul about other matters to do with their meetings as sometimes, it would seem, they had become disorderly. At the end of 1 Cor. 14 Paul comes to deal with these questions. Three times he advises some group to keep silent. If there is no one to interpret, let the tongue speakers 'keep silent in church' (14:28). If a prophet is speaking and another has a revelation 'let the

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first be silent' (14:30). If the women want to ask questions, presumably of the prophets, 'let them ask their husbands at home'—they should keep silent (14:34-35). Paul is obviously not forbidding women from preaching as he has just allowed that women prophesy in church (1 Cor. 11:5). The prohibition seems to apply solely to asking questions which disrupt the service. These verses are not without their difficulties12 as we do not know the exact nature of the problem, but an exegesis such as we have given is preferable to one that reads them as a prohibition against women preaching and so sets Paul at odds with himself. The final passage is the most difficult by far. The problem facing the Church addressed in the epistle we know as 1 Timothy is clear. The Christian community was under seige by treacherous teachers who were leading God's people into error. In Ephesus where Timothy was, this had been initiated by women. They had claimed the right to teach with absolute authority. Speaking on this situation, which is carefully spelt out, Paul says 'I permit no woman to teach, to have dominion over a man' (1 Tim 2:12). The word translated 'dominion' (authenteiri) by the NEB and the RV and 'authority' by the RSV only appears here in the New Testament and refers to the exercise of absolute power. It defines the sort of preaching that is forbidden. Paul forbids these women from preaching as if what they said was the infallible Word of God.13 This means that we do not have here a general prohibition against women teaching but rather a prohibition against a specific form and manner of teaching which Paul would not allow of men either (see Tit. 1:10-11). Paul's use of this very strong term shows that he is not speaking about ordinary preaching. As John Stott points out, the Christian preacher has no authority in himself; he is but a lowly 'steward' whose tasks it is to point to Christ and allow his Word to speak.14 The somewhat morbid preoccupation that traditionalists have with this text because it singles out women is quite misplaced.15 The condemnation of an authoritarian type of ministry, in this instance exercised by women, fits into the general New Testament condemnation of ministerial leadership which adopts the power model rather than the servant model.16 Jesus warned against those who wanted 'to lord it over' others as the Gentiles did, saying, 'it shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant' (Matt. 20:20-26 and par). The apostle Peter commands Christian leaders not to 'domineer' over the flock but with other Christians to clothe themselves with humility (1 Peter 5:1-5).

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Diotrephes, 'who likes to put himself first', is rebuked by John (3 John 9), while Paul singles out certain 'insubordinate men', in his letter to Titus, and says of them 'they have no right to teach' (Tit. 1:11).

The subordination of women Our case should be able to rest at this point, for we have proved that the Spirit did give gifts of ministerial leadership to women in the apostolic Church, but it cannot, for the opponents of women's ordination insist that the principle of subordination in itself is an absolute barrier. We are told that God has permanently and unilaterally subordinated either all women to all men or all wives to their husbands and this means that all women, or at the best all married women, are excluded from positions of leadership in the Church on this basis alone. They must continue with the tea-making, the flowers and minding the children for ever and ever. What evidence do we have for this far-reaching assertion? It is not supported by the creation stories of Genesis 1 and 2, for before sin entered the world man and woman shared the dominion of the earth (Gen. 1:28) and were 'partners' together in marriage (Gen. 2:18 NEB). The Fall was the time man began to domineer over woman (Gen. 3:16) but no responsible theologian suggests this gives the Christian ideal.17 Not one word on the lips of Jesus can be found to support it and much of what he said and did is quite opposed to it. John and Luke, who rival Paul for the scope of their contribution to the New Testament, never mention it. The evidence consists of four simple exhortations, three by Paul and one by Peter, that wives should be subordinate, Paul's discussion about marriage in Eph. 5:2Iff and a few verses taken in isolation from 1 Cor. 11:2-15. Let us then briefly evaluate this evidence on which so much is built. The simple exhortations addressed to wives to be subordinate are all clearly set in a cultural context.18 Women living in a maledominated society are asked for Christ's sake to be subordinate, as indeed are slaves living in a slave-owning society (Eph. 6:5). The apostles base their plea on practical considerations, not weighty theology. In Colossians 2:18 wives are to be subordinate because rit is fitting in the Lord', in Titus 2:5 so that 'the word of God may not be discredited' and in 1 Peter 3:1 so that husbands 'who do not obey the word may be won without a word'. The only way to understand these exhortations properly is to see them as particular applications of the

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general Christian truth that in all personal relationships the believer should count others more worthy than himself (Luke 22:25-26, Rom. 12:10, Gal. 5:13, Eph. 4:2, Phil. 2:3 etc.).19 The remaining parallel exhortation to wives, which we will now consider, explicitly makes this point. Ephesians 5:2Iff gives Paul's most profound discussion about marriage.20 The exhortation to be subordinate again arises out of the same cultural setting, but because of the theological nature of this passage it stands apart from the texts we have just discussed. Paul begins his comments about marriage by affirming that the mark of the Spirit-filled Christian is subordination to others (5:21). This presumably includes husbands to wives as well as wives to husbands. Only after this does he ask wives in particular to subordinate themselves to their husbands, 'as to the Lord', for 'the husband is the head of the wife' (5:23). The moment we see the word 'head' we immediately think that Paul is giving to husbands the status of boss, director or decision-maker, but in the Greek language this word (kephale: head) does not necessarily bear this meaning.21 When not used literally of the top part of the body it can have a range of meanings, and the appropriate one must be determined by the context. Here Paul explains that the 'headship' of the husband finds its perfect model in the total self-giving of Christ for his bride the Church (5:25). This self-giving is summed up in the greatest of all Christian words—agape (love). The resultant union, the apostle concludes, is not an hierarchical power structure but a one-flesh union (5:31). In this bond decisions are made by seeking to find a common mind. This wonderful picture of marriage cannot be used to limit the role of women; it can only be used to encourage a view of marriage in which mutual respect and mutual service prevail. The last passage, 1 Cor. 11:2-16 is one of the most difficult pieces of Pauline reasoning to be found. Those who wish to subordinate women quote it because here Paul says that 'man is the head of woman' (11:3). The traditional understanding of the English word 'head' supports this idea, but modern scholarly opinion largely agrees that in this context Paul is using the word kephale in one of its most common metaphorical senses, so that it means 'source' such as when we speak in English of the source of a river as its head.22 God is the head of Christ in the sense that he is the source of Christ's life, and man is the head of woman in the sense that Adam, the first man, was the source of life for Eve the first woman (Gen. 2). This 'headship' of the man, Paul believes, does not exclude women from leading in prayer or

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proclamation in the congregation (11:5), even if tradition demands that they cover their heads when they do this. To support his case that women should cover their heads when leading in worship Paul draws in several pragmatically based arguments, one of which is that woman was originally made for man (11:8), but the grand climax of the passage is reached when the apostle affirms that now 'in the Lord' both sexes are equally dependent on each other (11:11-12). In other words Paul himself negates his comment made in 11:8.23 We see then that all the talk about male 'headship' in the sense of authoritative leadership and decision-making has no theological foundation at all and is in fact quite contrary to Christian ideas of leadership which involve not power but service.24 For practical reasons it may be wise if women often let men take the lead—it is still a fallen world and the male ego is very tender—but Scripture does not demand it and sometimes the opposite should be encouraged.

Conclusion Our discussion about the ministry of women has shown not only that women should not be discriminated against in the Church but that the New Testament picture of ministry is very different from presentday practice. In the apostolic Church the ministry of the whole body of Christ is primary. Some people naturally stood out as leaders par excellence but no one was excluded on principle from offering leadership. It was the Holy Spirit who gave precedence to certain people: there was no ministerial elite on the basis of ordination. This is even so in the congregations influenced by Judaism where elders were nominated as congregational leaders. These elders are always a large group and their existence did not mean others were excluded from leading in the congregation in one way or another. We cannot reproduce the New Testament Church. That age and its social forms are gone for ever. But we can work to regain a corporate dimension to Christian ministry which has been lost.25 Ordination, I believe, must remain. It is now a necessary aspect of church order. But it must be extended. More people should be ordained. The ideal would be to have a team ministry in every parish. Within this team some could be stipendiary ministers, some self-supporting, some old, some young, some well trained theologically, some less so, some men, some women. Although they could all hold the same office their contribution would differ. The emphasis would be on the complementary

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character of their ministries. Women should be ordained so that they are free to offer the ministry which the body of Christ needs from them as women. Their ordination is only the first step in an exciting journey to a renewed Church. We have nothing to fear. There is nothing in the Bible which suggests that women should not be ordained as deacons or priests.

5 The ordination of women The position of the Catholic Church LEO HAY

The official position of the Catholic Church on the ordination of women is quite clear. It stated it in a 'Declaration on the question of the Admission of Women to the Ministerial Priesthood' published by the Vatican Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith on 15 October 1976. Its position is expressed in the Introduction: 'the SCDF judges it necessary to recall that the Church, in fidelity to the example of the Lord, does not consider herself authorised to admit women to priestly ordination. The Sacred Congregation deems it opportune at the present juncture to explain this position of the Church.'1 In the rest of the declaration, the SCDF seeks confirmation of this position in 'the Church's constant tradition' (apart from 'a few heretical sects' the tradition of the non-ordination of women was so entrenched it was never questioned), the attitude of Christ (who, despite his non-conformist attitude to women, never invited any woman 'to become part of the Twelve'), the practice of the apostles (which was faithful to the attitude of Jesus), the permanent value of the attitude of Jesus and the apostles (it has not been proven that Jesus' and the apostles' attitude was determined by the social and cultural conditions of the time), the ministerial priesthood in the light of Christ (the priest is the sacrament of Christ to the point of being his very image; males alone can bear a natural resemblance to him and therefore alone can be priests) and in the light of the Church (Christ is consistently the Bridegroom, the Church, the Bride; only a male can represent Christ the Bridegroom). I cannot here enter into these arguments in detail, but I would like to point out that they have not been fully accepted into the conscious49

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ness of the Catholic Church as convincing arguments. I would also like to draw attention to a statement by Karl Rahner soon after the publication of the declaration. Rahner declares that 'despite papal approval the Declaration is not a definitive decision; it is in principle reformable and it can b e . . . erroneous'.2 And a little later, the theologian 'must bring to such a decree the respect it deserves; nevertheless he has not only the right but also the duty of examining it critically and under certain circumstances of contradicting it. The theologian respects the decree by attempting to appreciate as impartially as possible the reasons it puts forward . . . even to the point of regarding it as objectively erroneous in its basic thesis. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (to say nothing at all about earlier times) there is a whole series of declarations of the Roman authorities on faith which have meanwhile been shown to be erroneous or at least largely obsolete'.3 Here I wish simply to point to certain disquieting features of the document—features which, in some instances, seem to put it at variance with some of the directions foreshadowed in the Second Vatican Council (1962-65).

The structure of the document The very structure of the document threatens good method. The Sacred Congregation,' it says in its introduction, 'deems it opportune at the present juncture to explain this position of the Church', this position being, as we know, 'No Women Priests'. Such a method assumes its own stated position as theologically certain without having to establish it on scriptural and theological grounds. Consequently it puts the whole burden of proof on its opponents to demonstrate that the attitude of Jesus and the disciples was conditioned by social and cultural circumstances. The question is not approached as an open one. This method also runs the danger of selecting only that material which supports its a priori position. According to one commentator, 'the exegesis is selective and is marshalled to support the current teaching of the Magisterium. Such exegesis will convince no one who is not disposed to agree with the Declaration on grounds other than the strength of its exegesis'.4 Rahner also points to a defect in method in the declaration's deduction from the composition of the College of the Twelve who can or cannot be 'an ordinary, simple leader of the community and president of the eucharistic celebration in a

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particular congregation of a later period'.5 The document presents evidence of other tendentious choice of evidence in confirmation of its position.6

Apparent failure to consult Another disquieting aspect of the declaration is its apparent failure to consult with the Church in a matter of such importance as this. There is no public indication that the views of the bishops throughout the world were sought and evaluated. On the level of Scriptural expertise we know that the Pontifical Biblical Commission considered the question of the ordination of women in April 1975 and again in April 1976. We know that the commission voted unanimously (17:0) that the New Testament does not settle in a clear way and once and for all whether women can be ordained priests; and by a 12:5 vote that Christ's plan would not be transgressed by permitting the ordination of women.7 There is no mention of these findings in the declaration and no indication that the SCDF took the Biblical Commission's report into account. Nor was there any consultation of the laity. The Second Vatican Council spoke emphatically of the prophetic role of the whole Church. The body of the faithful as a whole, anointed as they are by the Holy One, cannot err in matters of belief. Thanks to a supernatural sense of the faith which characterises the People as a whole, it manifests this unerring quality when "from the bishops down to the least member of the laity", it shows universal agreement in matters of faith and morals.'8 Now it must be admitted that juridically there was no obligation to consult the faithful of the Church before the declaration was composed and published. But it would have been an opportunity to do this and so verify in practice what is stated theoretically in the Second Vatican Council about 'the supernatural sense of the faith which characterises the People as a whole'. Similarly consultation on a wider scale would have lent more credibility to what the same council affirmed on collegiality and on the importance of charisms in the Church, including that of scriptural and theological expertise.

Lack of ecumenical sensitivity Another disquieting aspect of the document is what we may perhaps describe as a lack of ecumenical sensitivity. The declaration notes

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that Tor some years now various Christian communities stemming from the sixteenth century Reformation or of later origin have been admitting women to the pastoral office on a par with men'.9 However there is no attempt at learning from the experience of such churches. The Second Vatican Council's Decree on Ecumenism says: 'Nor should we forget that whatever is wrought by the grace of the Holy Spirit in the hearts of our separated brethren can contribute to our own edification.'10 After noting the different practices of the churches concerning the ordination of women, the Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry text (BEM) prepared by the World Council of Churches Faith and Order Commission in 1982 declares that 'those obstacles must not be regarded as substantive hindrance for further efforts towards mutual recognition. Openness to each other holds the possibility that the Spirit may well speak to one church through the insights of another. Ecumenical consideration, therefore, should encourage, not restrain, the facing of this question'.11 Earlier, BEM addresses the question of the basis on which some churches practise the ordination of women. 'It rests for them on the deeply held theological conviction that the ordained ministry of the Church lacks fullness when it is limited to one sex. This theological conviction has been reinforced by their experience during the years in which they have included women in their ordained ministries. They have found that women's gifts are as wide and varied as men's and that their ministry is as fully blessed by the Holy Spirit as the ministry of men. None has found reason to reconsider its decision.'12 One of the questions that the Faith and Order Commission addresses to all the churches concerns 'the consequences your church can draw from this text for its relations and dialogues with other churches, particularly with the churches which also recognise the text as an expression of the apostolic faith'.13 One such consequence for the Catholic Church might well be for it to become a learner from the experience of those churches who have ordained women to the ministry. To approach such experience without prejudice and in docility to the Spirit might well involve for it 'the possibility that the Spirit may well speak to one church through the insights of another'.14 Such an approach may possibly bear fruit for the dialogue between the Catholic Church and the Anglican communion. Admission of women to priesthood in the Anglican communion constituted, in the words of Pope Paul VI, a 'grave' and 'new obstacle and threat' on the path of reconciliation.15

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Inconclusiveness of the theological arguments The declaration, in parts 5 and 6, considers the priesthood in the light of the mystery of Christ and the Church in order to clarify with the aid of 'the analogy of faith' the conclusions reached in the first four parts. The declaration admits that these reflections do not constitute a conclusive argument. They are persuasive only to one who is already convinced by the previous sections of the document. In fact the arguments used from the maleness of Christ and from the bridal symbolism of Christ and the Church create problems and tensions in other areas of theology including christology, the theology of the sacraments and especially of baptism and Eucharist, and the theology of the Church. In particular they do not give sufficient attention to the doctrine of Paul in Gal. 3:28: 'there is neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.'16 In a reply to Dr Coggan's notifying him on 9 July 1975 that the Anglican communion found no fundamental objections in principle to the ordination of women, Pope Paul VI wrote: Your Grace is of course well aware of the Catholic Church's position on this question. She holds that it is not admissible to ordain women to the priesthood for very fundamental reasons. These reasons include: the example recorded in the sacred scriptures of Christ choosing his apostles only from among men; the constant practice of the Church, which has imitated Christ in choosing only men; and her living teaching authority which has consistently held that the exclusion of women from the priesthood is in accordance with God's plan for his Church.17 This reply was written on 30 November 1975. It is significant that the argument from the natural physical resemblance to Christ, which was to be used in the declaration, is missing in this letter.

Conclusion In concluding I would like to stress that I am not rejecting out of hand the arguments brought forward in the declaration on the admission of women to the priesthood. The space at my disposal is not adequate for properly stating these arguments, much less than for passing judgment on them. All I wish to do is to draw attention to some disquieting features of this declaration. I also wish to emphasise that far from

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settling the issue of the ordination of women in the Catholic Church, the declaration has, unwittingly perhaps, stimulated it through the controversial nature of its argumentation and by drawing attention to some basic issues involved, such as, in the words of the declaration, 'the nature of the real equality of the baptised which is one of the great affirmations of Christianity'18 and the 'capital importance' of the role of Christian women today.19 I would like to finish with the concluding remarks of Rahner: The Roman Declaration says that in this question the Church must remain faithful to Jesus Christ. This is of course true in principle. But what fidelity means in connection with this problem remains an open question. Consequently the discussion must continue. Cautiously, with mutual respect, critical of bad arguments on both sides, critical of irrelevant emotionalism expressly or tacitly influencing both sides, but also with that courage for historical change which is part of the fidelity which the Church owes to its Lord.20 The official position of the Catholic Church in the ordination of women is clear. The issue, however, is still a live one in the Church.

6 The ordination of women A psychological interpretation of the objections MAGGIE KIRKMAN and NORMA GRIEVE The teachings of Christ suggest that the opportunities for women to serve Him are similar to those for men. The practices of the Christian church however, belie this possibility, particularly in the strong objections to the ordination of women to the priesthood. We shall argue in this chapter that these objections are specific examples of patriarchal attitudes. Patriarchy is a term used loosely to describe the cultural rule which, all other things such as age, caste and class being equal, accords higher value to the activities, and greater power to the person, of those assigned to the male rather than the female gender. We will apply to the ordination debate the thesis of Dorothy Dinnerstein who claims that patriarchy is sustained at its core by irrational and unconscious motives. In particular, we will argue that justifications for the exclusion of women from the priesthood are more or less transparent expressions of attitudes exemplifying Dinnerstein's claim that patriarchy is a social expression of the flight from maternal power. Many reasons are given to support the antagonism to women priests. One of the most popular is that Jesus chose no women among the apostles,1 but seeing that He also chose no Gentiles, the argument fails to be convincing. Although there are some dissenting voices,2 it is generally considered that there are no theological objections to the ordination of women. The General Synod of the Anglican Church in Australia resolved in 1977 that this was the case, and the Roman Catholic Biblical Commission of 1976 stated that there were insufficient biblical grounds to exclude the possibility. A Roman Catholic nun, a doctoral candidate in canon law, wrote confidently: Women will eventually move to an equality with men in the ministerial life of the Church. Studies in biblical, 55

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theological, historical and canonical disciplines can offer no substantial reasons for this inequality in the present day life of the Church. There is a long tradition in the Church which has been formed on ambiguous theological conceptions of women. These theological perspectives, coupled with the socio-cultural constructs that favoured the subordination of women, have marked women's role in the Church as one of constant inferiority to men. The result has been a practical and juridical depreciation of her gifts and ministry.3 Nevertheless, tradition and custom weigh as heavily as theology. The statement of the Biblical Commission was followed by a firm declaration from the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (1976) to the effect that women should not be ordained because they had never been ordained in the past. This tends to give doctrinal weight to custom, although further examination of women's ordination in the light of Newman's seven Notes led to a conclusion that it would qualify as acceptable doctrinal development.4 Other arguments arise from distaste that the person of a woman should represent Christ to the people. This position was adopted in the 1976 Roman declaration: When Christ's role in the Eucharist is to be expressed sacramentally, there would not be this natural resemblance, which must exist between Christ and his minister, if the role of Christ were not taken by a man: in such a case it would be difficult to see in the minister the image of Christ. For Christ Himself was and remains a man.5 One may well ask why the resemblance stops at sex: why not demand of priests that they be short, bearded Jews aged 30 with skills in carpentry? The declaration also deals with the image of Christ as the bridegroom and the Church as the bride as further justification for a male priesthood. It does not use the image to demand an all-female congregation of brides. As Ruether pointed out, the maleness of Jesus was not used in patristic theology as an argument against the ordination of women. It arose in medieval scholastic theology which adopted the Aristotelian view of women as misbegotten males (see chapter I).6 Augustine, for example, claimed that women were not made in the image of God (except as an appendage to men) and could not therefore be priests: The woman together with her husband is the image of God, so that the whole substance may be one image. But

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when she is referred to separately in her quality of a helpmate, which regards the woman herself alone, then she is not in the image of God. But as regards the man alone, he is the image of God as fully and completely as when the woman too is joined with him.7 Neal8 discusses the role of symbols as both embodying and reinforcing socially understood meaning. Those in power control the operative images of God; in a patriarchal society, the images of God are male. In the West, God (who in theory is beyond sex) is characteristically symbolised as the father of a family, and any change to this is perceived as a threat to the integrity of God: 'As the drive for the ordination of women has proceeded, it has become apparent that what is involved is the very Doctrine of God. It is not only feminising the image of the priest, but feminising the image of God. The priest stands as an image of Christ, who is the image of God.'9 Terwilliger, in company with others, sees no need to explain why a feminine God is any more abhorrent than a masculine one. As Mary Daly puts it so succinctly: 'Even if "in Christ there is neither male nor female", everywhere else there damn well is.'10 The Anglican layman C.S. Lewis argued that although women can do all that a priest can do, only a man can represent God. He wrote of the 'inarticulate distaste, a sense of discomfort' aroused by the mere thought of women priests, even though 'no one among those who dislike the proposal is maintaining that women are less capable than men of piety, zeal, learning and whatever else seems necessary for the pastoral office'.11 However, he continued, it is 'not mere prejudice begotten by tradition' which produces 'the horror, which the idea of turning all our theological language into the feminine gender arouses in most Christians'. It is justified by the fact that 'God himself taught us how to speak of Him'.12 Blessed by sanctions from a higher authority supporting male superiority, Lewis is able to be suitably humble in accepting the honour: It is painful, being a man, to have to assert the privilege, or the burden, which Christianity lays upon my own sex. I am crushingly aware how inadequate most of us are, in our actual and historical individualities to fill the place prepared for us. But it is an old saying in the army that you salute the uniform not the wearer. Only one wearing the masculine uniform can . . . represent the Lord to the Church: for we are all, corporately and individually, feminine to Him. We men may often make very bad

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priests. That is because we are insufficiently masculine. It is no cure to call in those who are not masculine at all.13 In order to ward off the inevitable question as to why men have exclusive claims to spiritual androgyny, whereas women who wish to share male power are asking the world 'to treat human beings as neuters', Lewis offers a suitably mystical threat: With the Church . . . we are dealing with male and female not merely as facts of nature but as the live and awful shadows of realities utterly beyond our control and largely beyond our direct knowledge. Or rather, we are not dealing with them but (as we shall soon learn if we meddle) they are dealing with us.14 C.S. Lewis has been quoted in some detail because he draws together threads of objection spun by other sources. For example, the threat to God-given masculinity and femininity if women occupy male preserves is claimed also by Barth, Bouyer and Terwilliger;15 and the mystical increase in or conferring of masculinity (undefined) at ordination is asserted by Balthasar and Boyer.16 Let it not be said, however, that male domination should be maintained only for the good of men. Those who oppose women priests do so for the good of women. Bouyer, for example, wishes to safeguard women from losing their identity (whether or not they want such protection): 'it is precisely this safeguarding of a necessary complementarity, without which women's claimed equality would be nothing but the annihilation of her originality and of her own identity, that motivates exclusive attribution of the priestly ministry to man: to the male.'17 'Femininity' may be 'crushed', he continued, by 'conferring on her a ministry which is not suitable for her.' Women's unsuitability is related only to tradition, which implies the existence of'a fundamental principle', the nature of which Bouyer chooses not to divulge. He expressed pious hopes that suitable ministries would soon be discovered for women. According to Bouyer, 'more experienced psychologists and sociologists' know that the current mistaken view that equality equals identity provides 'unfavourable conditions' for true equality. He also supports apartheid because it allows the blacks to retain their identity, and uses this as an analogy for the male/ female state. The fact that in both cases it is the dominant group evincing concern for the identity of the oppressed emphasises that the issue is one of power. These views could be enjoyed as harmless eccentricities were it not for the fact that men such as Bouyer and Lewis hold respected positions at the heart of Christian orthodoxy.

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Even Karl Earth, a courageous champion of human rights against the Nazis, maintained that the subordination of women was decreed by God.18 His argument seems to have been based on a misunderstanding of the second (Yahwist) Creation story, which is recognised as a theological attempt to explain contemporary patriarchal society.19 Such blind spots in otherwise liberal people; the hunt for pragmatic barriers to the ordination of women when theological arguments fail; the fact that so few women have offered themselves for ordination when the opportunity has arisen; and (particularly) the fact that women share the antagonism towards the mere idea of women priests20 all these combine to suggest that a psychological explanation may be appropriate. Because the limits set upon female activity in the Church are representative of the ubiquitous secular dominance of men, it seems appropriate to suggest an explanation in terms of a universal feature of the experience of the human race.

Female childcare and fear of women The significant universal experience has been defined by the psychologist Dorothy Dinnerstein as the fact that it is nearly always a woman who provides the infant with the primary initial contact with humanity and with nature.21 The detrimental effects of a mother-reared infancy may be focused particularly sharply in the Church because of its central association with matters spiritual and mystical. According to Dinnerstein, female-dominated childcare guarantees certain forms of antagonism (shared by men and women) against women; her summary of the nature of these antagonisms reads like a distillation of the relation of women to the Church, symbolised by the extremes of virgin and whore, experienced both as a servant and as a threat to male virtue: These antagonisms include fury at the sheer existence of her autonomous subjectivity; loathing of her fleshly mortality; a deep ingrained conviction that she is intellectually and spiritually defective; fear that she is untrustworthy and malevolent. At the same time they include an assumption that she exists as a natural resource, as an asset to be owned and harnessed, harvested and mined, with no fellow-feeling for her depletion and no responsibility for her conservation or replenishment. Finally, they include a sense of primitive outrage at meeting her in any position of worldly authority.22

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Dinnerstein is not the first to relate patriarchy and its particular manifestations to the structure and dynamics of early life in the family. Other psycho-analytically oriented theorists share her basic claim, notably its progenitor Freud.23 However, Dinnerstein locates the crucial formative period not in the oedipal conflict but in the preoedipal period. She bases her thesis on aspects of the work of Melanie Klein24 and on object-relations theory, particularly emphasising the primitive unconscious defence mechanism of 'splitting'. We will examine Dinnerstein's thesis in the following terms: ambivalent attitudes towards women; women and sexuality; women's collusion in patriarchy; the capriciousness of women and nature; women as quasi-persons; the wholeness of men; and finally, women and power. Each of these will be linked to aspects of objections to the ordination of women.

Ambivalent attitudes to women Dinnerstein interprets Klein metaphorically. The essential insight she adopts is that the feelings binding the pre-verbal, pre-logical infant to the adult who cares for it are dominated by the infant's boundless need and by the adult's nurturing response to that need. The child remains dependent after he/she becomes aware of that dependence and resents it. The nurturant response can never fully satisfy the rapacious desires of the infant, so the source of good is also a source of bad. To prevent the internalised object of good being overwhelmed by the bad, the infant 'splits' the two into separate internal objects. The bad object then menaces both the good object and the ego. An ambivalent relation to the mother develops when the good and bad objects (previously not recognised as belonging together) are united when the mother comes to be seen as a whole person, and the infant's internal world is imposed on external persons and situations. The Christian Church might have been designed as a deliberate demonstration of ambivalent attitudes to women. Mary Magdalene the whore and Mary the Virgin Mother of God exemplify this ambivalence; both refer to women in sexual terms, both imply the association of women with the dangers and degradations of the flesh. As Chaucer put it in the prologue to the Wife of Bath's tale: For trusteth wel, it is an impossible That any clerk wol speke good of wyves, But if it be of hooly seintes lyves25

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Less ambiguously, in the Christian scheme of things, woman has been traditionally assigned to the evil part of the good/evil polarity. She is the Flesh fighting perpetually against Reason to enslave man, as in this typical traditional medieval account: for the flesche may be likened to an yuel condicioned [illbred] womman, of whiche seith the wise man Salamon: the more men foloweth her wille the more froward [unruly] and schrewed [wicked] is sche. [The example of Sampson follows] . . . Right so whoso foloweth & suffreth the wille of his flesche hit wole byneme [take from] him the strengthe of his resoun & caste him into the thraldom of synne . . . And therfor hit is nedeful to holde the flesche vnder the gouernance of resoun . . ,26 Even more fundamentally, women is Vice needing to be held in check by Virtue. In one of Veronese's frescoes in the villa at Maser, Treviso, Virtue, a male figure, sits in a relaxed open posture looking up to heaven, holding in one hand the rod of governance, while the other is upraised and holds the reins of a bridle; the bit is in the mouth of a female figure, the Passions or Vices, who stares malevolently downward and whose clenched posture suggests extreme tension. The line from Eve the apple-eater through Solomon (a reminder that the ambivalence is much older than Christianity) to such allegories is unbroken.

Women and sexuality The relationship of the infant with its mother is intimately physical. Dinnerstein sees in this the source of our ambivalent attitudes to sexuality and our bodies, and particularly to the sexuality of women: the independent sexuality of the female is feared because it recalls the terrifying erotic independence of the baby's mother. To soothe the fear we subordinate Eve's lust to Adam's, but this cure only makes the sickness worse; subordinated, Eve's lust is more frightening still.'27 In a lively and interesting history of the cult of the Virgin, Marina Warner28 describes the way in which the cult of Mary is inextricably interwoven with Christian ideas about the dangers of the flesh and their special connection with women. Perhaps it is for this reason that the early Church found sexless women most acceptable; for them the highest accolade was to be honorary men.29 Seminarians in our own time have been warned: 'Beware the daughters of Eve!'30 and for

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many years Roman Catholic priests were forbidden to be alone in a room with a woman. The Australian Church's Plenary Council of 1938 extended this restriction to motor vehicles; Costigan reports that some priests refused to drive alone with their mothers. In a heterosexual relationship, Dinnerstein perceives the man to be more vulnerable because the woman can bring out the dependent child in him. The two forms of male escape Dinnerstein describes are both recognisable in the Church, particularly in a celibate male priesthood. One escape is to keep heterosexual love superficial, both emotionally and physically; the other is to dissociate the emotional from the physical. These options are not open to women, who tend to be able to give way to heterosexual physical pleasure only when it is accompanied by sentiment. This is partly because women can deal with the split between bad and good aspects of the first parent by projecting a substantial proportion of the (maternally aroused) good feelings to the second parent and hence to all men. Bad feelings can be projected onto and contained in other women, particularly those women who could occupy positions where others would have direct experience of their power. However, if man is to live heterosexually, thus directing his passions towards women, his relations with her must embrace at a primitive level both the worshipful and derogatory, the affectionate and the hostile feeling towards the mother. If man divides the tender and the sensual, his lust carries the anger from which the trusting and protective side is insulated. It is illuminating to consider the explanations offered by church officials when a woman journalist was excluded from the ceremony in the Sistine Chapel to mark the meeting of Pope Paul VI and the Archbishop of Canterbury; The presence of a woman will sully this holy occasion for the Pope'; To you, women are people, but to us they are temptation.'31

Women's collusion in patriarchy It is of particular interest that so many women appear as committed as men to maintaining patriarchal power. Following de Beauvoir, Dinnerstein observes that women, unlike men, are offered a cultural immunity to the demands and risks of public life. A woman can vicariously enjoy the public triumphs of a man in return for her witness, support, nurturance and recognition. For Dinnerstein this 'socially sanctioned existential cowardice' is yet

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another expression of the 'morbid core' of our (collusive) sexual arrangements.32 Female initiative and will are as problematic for women *as they are for men since human infantile experience of maternal power is associated and confused with an inchoate sense of vulnerability and punishment. There are two additional features of the development of female sexuality within mother-reared infancy which incline girls toward becoming childish and submissive women. First, the prospect of adult heterosexual maturity requires for a woman the severance from her first female love and offers her a 'solution of sorts' to her maternal ambivalence not applicable to the boy, who maintains the female as the object of love. Dinnerstein suggests that the girl can dodge the work of healing the split between bad and good feelings toward the first parent by shifting a substantial portion of the magically good ones onto the second, so that her love for the opposite sex comes to be infused with the infant's grateful passion toward the mother while most of the hostile derogatory attitudes remain attached to their original object.33

Women and nature are capricious It is interesting that not only Dinnerstein but also those who have written specifically on the issue of the priesthood should associate our attitude to nature with our attitude to women.34 In Western thought, nature and women are perceived (by both sexes) as objects to be used, subjugated and exploited, reflecting the rapacious desires of the infant.35 At the same time, nature and women are paradoxically cherished as sources of life. Nevertheless, as the forces of nature are seen as capricious, the ways of women are understood in similarly wilful terms. The accusations of dividing the Church directed at women who wish to be ordained36 carry implications of the malevolent wilfulness of women. The frequently expressed horror at the mere idea of goddesses37 may be because of the association of women with nature and hence with paganism.

Women as quasi-persons The association of women with nature arises from the same source as the failure to perceive women as fully sentient, individual beings. The

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earliest roots of antagonism toward women lie in the period before the infant has any clear idea of where the self ends and the outside world begins, or any way of knowing that the mother is a sentient human being. The mother is 'the centre of non-self.38 When she is perceived finally as a person, her person-ness is infused for the child with these earlier qualities, and all women come to be defined as quasi-persons. Augustine's comments on the necessity of women to be united with man in order to be the image of God fit this pattern. The child learns its own T-ness in the face of the mother as 'it'. According to Dinnerstein:' "I"-ness wholly free of the chaotic carnal atmosphere of infancy, uncontaminated humanness, is reserved for man'.39 Thus also is the priesthood. Thomas Aquinas refused to accept women as priests on the fundamental grounds that because women did not have the 'eminence of degree' of the male sex, ordination would not even take place. Her 'state of subjection' makes her less fully human than men; 'a misbegotten male' (as Aristotle had claimed). Aquinas' attitude may still be found in the world (not just the church) today. C.S. Lewis's 'inarticulate distaste' succinctly expresses the pre-verbal apprehension of the not-quite-human.

The wholeness of men In Dinnerstein's view, the wholeness of men and their relative freedom from being objects of ambivalent attitudes stem from the fact that infants become aware of their fathers only after developing rational appreciation of others as independent Ts. To mother-raised humans, she claims, male authority (and, in the present case, male priestly authority) is bound to look like a reasonable refuge from female power. Men also represent the freedom of the world beyond maternal control, which makes them doubly attractive. Russell and Dewey provide an explicit cultural expression of this theme. They assert that maternal care cannot prepare the (male) child for insertion into the world. An unspecified paternal influence is necessary to complete socialisation: Is a 'bad' father. . . not as bad for the child as a 'bad' mother? The answer is No. Simply by being a father, he represents a phase in the child's development which carries him into the world, beyond the reach of the mother, good or bad. This is not, of course, a mere matter of personalities, but one of archetypes; and at that level a

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good mother, like a bad mother, must in the end be 'bad' for her child in a fashion not true even of the bad father.40 These authors go on to argue that to endorse women priests would constitute a return to the pre-rational thraldom in which our mothers held us. Male priests exemplify the essential, continuing paternal influence: 'A "child" (of whatever age), if he is to grow up, he needs a father to lead him away from the blandishments of the "best" as from tyranny of the "worst" of mothers.'41

Women and power The pre-logical and therefore mystical power of all women (as generalisations of the mother) has special significance for the sacred power of the priesthood. On one level, perhaps the most conscious level, women can be perceived as polluting the 'clean', spiritual power of men. Terwilliger, for example, asks with rhetorical horror: Is the Church by permitting female priesthood actually depriving the church sacramentally?'42 On another level, ordination may be seen as conferring even greater power on already powerful women. It is, in fact, the Catholic denominations (both Anglican and Roman) which have resisted the ordination of women most strongly. In this tradition, ordination is a sacrament which conveys grace. For an Evangelical, ordination simply refers to the public and prayerful nomination of a person, who is recognised to have gifts of ministry, for a particular work in the Christian community. Ordination is thus an aspect of church order and not a sacrament. In the congregational Christian churches in which the Eucharist is more a memorial of an event than an event in itself, there has been less objection to seeing it celebrated by women, presumably both because of the nature of the Eucharist and the nature of priesthood. Nevertheless, in both cases, ordination for women has not meant full participation in the ministerial roles or in ecclesiastical decision-making.43 Even the streams of churchmanship in the Anglican Church reveal these sacramental differences.44 A survey of attitudes to the ordination of women conducted for the Anglican Diocese of Melbourne45 found that the strongest opposition to female ordination came from Anglo-Catholics. In Dinnerstein's terms, this may express the fear of maternal power which still threatens the adult as it once threatened the infant: The woman . . . is the overwhelmingly external will in the face of which the child first learns the necessity for

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The force of the feminine submission, the first being to whose wishes the child may be forced by punishment to subordinate its own, the first powerful and loved creature whom the child tries voluntarily to please.46

A woman in authority represents (to both men and women) a relapse into submission to the mother; it is much more fearful when that authority is coupled with the magic of priesthood. C.S. Lewis expressed his alarmed distaste interrogatively: 'So you really want a matriarchal world? Do you really like women in authority? When you seek authority yourself, do you naturally seek it in a woman?'47 The mother-reared man still needs women, but in a strictly limited and controlled way to enable him to feel that he has overcome the power of the mother. Karl Earth was clear on this matter, incorporating in his statement an element of maternal applause: Properly speaking, the business of woman, her task and function, is to actualise the fellowship in which man can only precede her, stimulating, leading and inspiring. How could she do this alone, without the precedence of man? How could she reject or envy his precedence, his task and function, as the one who stimulates, leads and inspires? . . . The establishment of an equality with man might well lead to a state of affairs in which her position is genuinely and irreparably deplorable because both it and that of man are left as it were hanging in the void.48 The power of the sensual and dominating mother and, by association, all women (since they potentially embody the omnipotent mother of our infancy) must be controlled in our adult social arrangements. Social power, in the hands of women, must be kept trivial. Simone de Beauvoir was even more clear on this matter than Earth. She sees in the Virgin Mother a symbolic resolution of the need to contain maternal power: Tor the first time in human history the mother kneels before her son; she freely accepts her inferiority. This is the supreme masculine victory, consummated in the cult of the Virgin—it is the rehabilitation of woman through the accomplishment of her defeat.'49 However, de Beauvoir was wrong on one count; women were not rehabilitated, because the very conditions that make the Virgin sublime (that is, asexual maternity) are beyond the powers of women to fulfil. The love of the Virgin does not erase but presupposes ambivalence towards real women.

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Dinnerstein's solution Dinnerstein's solution is a radical one, arguably Utopian, and unlikely to occur in the near future. She appeals for a change in human childrearing arrangements in order to remove the burdens of ambivalence and fantasies of fearful power from the shoulders solely of women. She argues that although women have no choice in the matter of childbearing, modern culture and technology no longer require the exclusion of men from subsequent infant care. The involvement of men would force us to deal with our ambivalence, instead of associating the bad aspects with women and construing only men as persons. One cannot crush 'the massive orienting passions' of a dependent infancy, but they may be more equitably focused: men may then also be endowed with some of the parental magic. The necessity of integrating the bad and the good (brought about by the absence of female scapegoats) should also lead people to a new maturity, a new sense of self. The fear of infant helplessness is better outgrown than translated into irrational fantasies, beliefs and attitudes. In the meantime, acknowledging our irrational fears permits some clarification of our attitudes and allows us to rectify them. Some churches have found already that the reality of women in authority has not fulfilled apprehensive predictions. New arguments, often self-serving, will doubtless be generated and require confrontation and analysis, but a reconciliation of men and women, clergy and laity, the human and the natural world is long overdue.

7 Institutional sexism and the Anglican Church MARGARET ANN FRANKLIN

This chapter focuses on a case study of the gap between theological discussion on the status of women in the Anglican Church in New South Wales and actual practice in a parish in a large country town. It looks at this from a sociological perspective and includes an outline of the institutional structure of the Anglican Church today. Christianity created a complete change in the position of women in the religious congregation. In the Jewish synagogue women were inactive participants, usually separated from the men by an opaque lattice. In contrast in the early Christian community women were recognised as full members of the congregation, and more than that, as Kevil Giles has shown, were known to have held office in the Church. Eileen Jones showed how what we call patriarchal ideology, on both Jewish and Greek lines, overthrew this Christian newness and imprisoned women once again as lesser beings, subject to men's domination, responsible for evil, and explicitly excluded from office in the Church. Eileen Byrne has shown how such a view is reflected in the educational opportunity offered to girls; Maggie Kirkham and Norma Grieve have offered a psychological explanation. An ideology is a set of beliefs and values which expresses the interests of a particular group. Typically, as here, we are concerned with an ideology being used by a dominant group to mask social reality and legitimate the activities of those in power. In a patriarchal ideology the dominant group is men, and it is men's interests that are served; the differences that are noticed between men and women operate in one direction: towards women's subjection and exclusion. Such an ideology justifies what we may call institutional sexism. This is the erection into a power system of the perennial misogyny

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expressed by individuals (for example by C.S. Lewis—see chapter 6) and the accumulated anti-feminism of ancient and Christian thought. Christianity as it developed through the early centuries failed to overturn an attitude to women already ancient and, indeed, came to reinforce this attitude and entrench it in its power structure. The inferiority, subordination and dependence of women vis-a-vis men is reflected in the way the Anglican and other churches are constituted, not only in the exclusion of women from the ministry but, in the case of the Anglican Church, in what it expects of ministers' wives and what place it assigns to women generally—the sphere of the domestic and the ancillary. The Church therefore does not transcend the world, which is its mission, but actually embraces an injustice so old we cannot see its origins; it has thereby deeply, we believe, abandoned the inspired justice of its founder. Fortunately the psychological and sociological explanations now being offered by feminists and others are being absorbed by non-fundamentalist theologians and give some hope that the Church will change. When Christian men and women internalise the Christian patriarchal ideology, like colonised people they come to believe, despite what Christ taught and practised, that Christian males are always entitled to a higher status than Christian women. The acceptance of such an ideology has locked Christian women and men into gender cages and has deprived the Church of competent female leadership. Furthermore, it has ensured that the most serious concerns of Christians are discussed in a male-oriented vocabulary and in a male context, and are deprived of female experience.

Women's status in the Anglican Church Like its companion Christian churches, the Anglican Church has always been organised around the differences between males and females rather than the similarities, and the gifts of women have consequently been under-used or ignored. In Australia the Church's organisation and practice have reinforced the all-too-obvious sexism of Australian society, reserving leadership, scholarship and decision-making for men and casting women into serving and caring roles. In a country where parishes are not endowed, as they are in England, Anglican women have always been important fundraisers, but they have rarely had the power of deciding how the money they raise should be spent. Until quite recently women were barred from being on parish councils, vestries or synods. While Anglican women

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have often been influential they have usually remained in the background, exercising their power covertly through their husbands.1 In 1972 the Australian theologian Barbara Thiering recognised the presence of institutional sexism in the Church when she suggested that in Australia the Christian Church, both Catholic and Protestant, was one of the main agencies for reinforcing the low status of women. She complained that the Church had tended to canonise a status quo prevailing in society as a whole, one in which women were severely deprived.2 Two years later the Australian Council of Churches (NSW) Enquiry Into The Status of Women in the Church provided empirical evidence supporting her statement. Six dioceses of the province of the Anglican Church in New South Wales (then called the Church of England and affiliated with the American Episcopalian Church) sent submissions to the Enquiry. They stated that women could not be admitted to the orders of bishop, priest or deacon. Sydney was the only diocese that permitted women to be elected as parish representatives on the synod of that diocese. There were at the time of the Enquiry three women parish representatives among 600 clerical and lay representatives. The fact that the other dioceses would not allow women to sit on their synods meant that most women were unable to sit on the powerful general or provincial synods as membership was selected from diocesan synods. While Sydney allowed women to sit on its synod it stated that they could not be members of the Church Property Trust or the Glebe Administration Board, nor could they be churchwardens. The Riverina did not want women churchwardens either, but CanberraGoulburn and Bathurst had no objections. All dioceses permitted women to serve on parochial councils, and in the diocese of Grafton women made up about 25 per cent of the membership. Perhaps fearing a female takeover, the diocese of the Riverina insisted that women parochial councillors could not exceed one-third of the total membership. While women in the Sydney diocese were permitted to be elected as a Parochial Nominator, a woman's election was declared void if her husband was elected to the same position. Although all dioceses were happy to have their registries staffed by women and welcomed women as organists and choir members, some would not allow women to assist at the service of Holy Communion, nor did they like the idea of women preaching. Both activities were explicitly prohibited by the diocese of Sydney, though it would allow a deaconess to give an address in a church providing she talked only about her work.3

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In secular society such discrimination is now under challenge. The Women's Movement gained momentum in Australia during the seventies and early eighties. The formation of the Women's Liberation Movement in 1969 and Women's Electoral Lobby in 1972 has forced political discussion of women's issues. Some specific reforms, such as equal pay, paid maternity leave for both married and single women in the Commonwealth Public Service, the appointment of an adviser on women's issues, appeared under the Whitlam Labor government, despite the heavy male domination of the ALP. Equal pay did not bring equal opportunity, however, either in industry or in higher education, and women still tend to lose in the battle for equal status. Anti-discrimination legislation and equal opportunity programs aimed at reducing the continuing inequality have had some kind of success. Two things, however, are clear: women are still suffering discrimination in very many ways, and the Australian community is showing more and more concern about it as the evidence mounts.4 In the face of such concern the churches have not been able to maintain their traditional attitudes unchallenged.

The Church today Institutional sexism is not only becoming unacceptable to the Australian community, it is also being questioned by members of the Church. Since the Enquiry Into The Status of Women was published the Anglican Church has begun to discriminate less against members who are female. There are now no legal barriers preventing women becoming lay preachers, lay readers, chalice bearers or church wardens. Women can now sit on the prestigious and powerful General and Provincial Synods, though few are elected to these positions. At the 1981 Australian General Synod seven of the representatives were women out of a house of 90 lay members; in the next General Synod held in 1985 there were fifteen women. This pattern of underrepresentation is typical of all decision-making bodies in the Church. The Rt Reverend A.C. Holland, Bishop of Newcastle, wrote recently in a letter: 'On all our diocesan committees we have an open policy and there is no bar to women's membership: but it is true to say that on those official bodies of the Diocese there is no significant female representation.'5 The ordination of women is a contentious issue for Anglicans. They have been ordained in Canada, Hong Kong, New Zealand and the

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United States, but not in Australia or England. Opponents of ordination, as well as advancing the main theological arguments referred to in chapter 4, also use an ecumenical one. It is argued that if the Anglican Church were to ordain women, it would harm relationships with the Roman Catholic and Orthodox Churches, both of which are firm in not permitting women to be priests. On the other hand, it can be pointed out that there are many churches with which the Anglican Church has close relationships which do ordain women, such as the Uniting Church, and there is, as we have seen, some discussion on the question going on in the Catholic Church. In 1974 the Anglican Church in Australia agreed that there are no theological objections to the ordination of women as deacons, and at the 1977 General Synod it took the revolutionary step of declaring by a considerable majority that the theological objections which have been raised did not constitute a barrier to the ordination of women to the priesthood. Despite these pronouncements Anglican women were not ordained because this involved changing the Church's constitution. In 1981 a provisional bill was presented to alter the constitution of the Church so that women could be ordained. To become law it had to be passed by three-quarters of all male-dominated diocesan synods, including all metropolitan sees. When it became clear that the bill was not going to get the required majority the Archbishop of Sydney suggested that the debate on this issue should cease. He wrote: 'What this means is that the Anglican Church in Australia has joined the great majority of churches in the Anglican communion in considering and then rejecting proposals to ordain women.'6 If opponents of the ordination of women thought that the issue would now die because constitutional changes were rejected, they were wrong. Anglican women are now increasingly entering theological colleges and some are letting it be known that they believe they are called to the ordained ministry. In October 1983 a group of Sydney women started the Movement for the Ordination of Women. This organisation has a considerable number of male members and in 1985 became a national organisation. Occasionally a woman priest from another part of the Anglican communion comes to Australia and her presence highlights the problem of institutional sexism in the Australian Anglican Church. In September 1983 for example, Melbourne was visited by the Reverend Joyce Bennett of Hong Kong. She was invited by Archdeacon David Chambers, who is a Christian feminist, to celebrate the Eucharist in his church, St Stephen's, Richmond. Word of this reached

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the Archbishop of Melbourne who told the Archdeacon to celebrate the service himself. Being a man under authority and also believing that women should be ordained, Archdeacon Chambers arranged a concelebration. This is a service at which the consecration of the bread and wine is done jointly by a number of priests. However as James Murray pointed out in an article in the Australian7 on the altered status of women in the Church, the service at St Stephen's was an appearance only of obedience to the archbishop's authority, for the Reverend Joyce Bennett used a separate chalice and paten and gave absolution—a declaration of forgiveness—and a blessing. In the Anglican Church the latter functions cannot be performed by lay people. The Movement for the Ordination of Women has done a great deal to publicise the debate on this issue. It has organised seminars, lectures and public demonstrations and has embarrassed the Anglican Church by inviting to Australia women who have been ordained in other parts of the Anglican communion. Some clergy have wanted to offer these women priests hospitality; others have preferred to ignore them. In 1985 the question of whether it was legal for an Australian Anglican priest to offer hospitality to an Anglican woman ordained in a foreign country was one of the ones on which the Church's highest legal body, the Appellate Tribunal, was asked for a ruling. It decided that Anglican priests were permitted to offer hospitality to women priests from other countries and could license them to minister in their dioceses. It also declared that the principles of the Church did not prevent women becoming ordained as deacons, priests or bishops. These decisions did not please conservative male members of the male-dominated General Synod. After a heated debate, between those who favoured the ordination of women and those who did not, a bill which would have given any diocese the right to ordain women if it wanted to was defeated. The General Synod did however pass a bill permitting the ordination of women as deacons, but some conservative dioceses have made it clear that such women will not be ordained as priests. The official debate about the status of women in the Anglican Church has centred on such issues as whether there are any reasons why women should not be ordained and whether the suggestion attributed to St Paul that women should not be in authority over men should forbid their preaching in church.8 While this is the centre of the current discussion, I shall now turn to something which is by comparison theologically uncontentious, the licensing of women as lay readers.

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In the Anglican Church lay people perform a number of functions. The most important of these are, in descending order, preaching sermons, reading services, administering the bread or wine to communicants at the Eucharist or reading lessons during services. The only activities strictly theologically forbidden to lay people are the pronouncing of the absolution for sins and the consecration of the elements in a communion service. Such lay people may be of either sex, though conservative Evangelicals in the Anglican Church hold that it is improper to give women authority by allowing them to preach. We will now trace the gap between the theology which encourages women to become lay readers and the practice which discourages them. Although the Enquiry into the Status of Women in the Church undoubtedly raised the consciousness of Anglicans about institutional sexism, it did not start the debate. The topic had already been discussed in 1971 at a National Conference on Mission and Ministry. In 1972 the synod of my own diocese passed the following resolution: That this Synod adopts in principle the recommendations from the National Conference on Mission and Ministry (August, 71) in regard to the ministry of women and urges parishes and appropriate bodies to implement them, i.e.: (1) Membership of Synods, Standing Committees, Parochial Councils, Boards of Presentation and all such Councils and Committees, and election, or appointment as Churchwardens, lay Canons, etc., should be open to women and men alike. It is recommended that, at least for the present, the Councils of the Church should be constituted as to encourage the election or appointment of women. (2) In the pastoral work of the Church, the abilities and the capacities of women should be recognised and consciously used. (3) The offices of Lay Reader and Lay Preacher should be open to all suitable persons irrespective of sex. Where lay people are given a specific function in public worship (e.g. reading lessons, leading intercessions) women should be given the same opportunity to minister as is given to men. Resolution 38 of the 1968 Lambeth Conference should be implemented: The Conference recommends that, in the meantime, National or Regional Churches or Provinces should be encouraged to make canonical provision, where this does not exist, for duly qualified women to share in the conduct of Liturgical worship, to preach, to baptise, to read the Epistle and

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Gospel at the Holy Communion, and to help in the distribution of the elements.' A copy of this resolution was given to me in 1983 by the bishop of our diocese when I went to see him because I believed that my parish church of St Paul's was practising institutional sexism. I was told that he regarded this issue as a matter for the parish to sort out. Institutional sexism: a case study In 1982 sixteen male members of our congregation were invited to become lay readers. Two women, with theological qualifications who had both been members of the parish council, were asked to tutor them in Old Testament studies. Neither of these women was asked to become a lay reader. This did not worry Susan Denton.9 She was socialised to believe that males should preside in the sanctuary. She told me that she felt that men's voices sounded so much better than women's. The other woman, Ann Taylor, a scientist, was angry about being excluded. She said she felt she was being treated as a secondclass citizen. In her important book Beyond God the Father, Mary Daly points out that rage can be a positive creative force. She writes: It rises as a reaction to the shock of recognising what has been lost—before it had even been discovered—one's own identity. Out of this shock can come information of what human being (as opposed to half being) can be. Anger then can trigger and sustain movement from the experience of nothingness to recognition of participation in being. When this happens, the past is changed, that is, its significance factor is changed.10 If it had not been for Ann Taylor the synod resolution of 1972 would not have been implemented so soon. When she first moved to our town she went to see the former bishop of the diocese to ask if she could be licensed as a lay reader. He told her that he felt that the congregation of St Paul's was not yet ready to accept women in the sanctuary. He suggested a process of gradualism. As a first step women were invited to read a lesson from the Bible at a morning service. St Paul's congregation became used to women reading the lessons. The appointment of a woman church worker and, when she left, a deaconess, further accustomed the congregation to the ministry of

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women. As the next incumbent appointed to the church in 1974 was sympathetic to feminism, the participation of women in church services increased. The arrival of two licensed women lay readers from other parishes further increased the participation of women in church services. By 1975, Women's International Year, St Paul's could claim that laywomen were well on their way to enjoying the same status as laymen. The status of women further improved with the appointment of a new bishop who encouraged the deaconess to preach in the cathedral. Although the bishop was opposed to the ordination of women on the grounds that married women could not have authority over their husbands, he was not opposed to the ordination of single women providing they remained single. He believed, however, that until there was a provision for unordaining single female clergy who married, no women should be ordained. As he had no objection to single theologically trained women preaching in church he was prepared to allow, and indeed saw it as his duty, to encourage this practice. Although the congregation was not used to women preachers, only one woman complained about the innovation. She was, however, so shocked that she left St Paul's and joined a more conservative church. The improved status of the church women did not last long. The practice of women reading the lessons was retained, but by 1982 the sanctuary was again reserved for males. This occurred because the deaconess and the two women lay readers left the district and no attempt was made to recruit more women. It seems that the resolution of 1972 had been forgotten. When she learnt that sixteen men were to be licensed as lay readers, Ann Taylor made an appointment to see our minister. He told her that it would not be possible for her to become a lay reader unless her nomination was approved by the other clergy and the parish council. Ann Taylor said she could not understand why this approval had not been forthcoming. She pointed out that she had served the church in various capacities. She had been a member of the parish council and had been considered to be a fit and proper person to tutor the lay readers in Old Testament studies. She suggested to the incumbent that it was wrong for the church to discriminate between men and women. She drew his attention to biblical passages which supported her position. She quoted Galatians 3:28, and also stressed that by limiting women's opportunities to minister, the church was out of touch with society. Her appeal had no effect.

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I was moved by Ann Taylor's situation to become a Christian feminist. Until this incident occurred my feminism and my religion had been compartmentalised. Although I called myself a feminist I had also been blinded by the Christian patriarchal ideology to accept the sanctuary as a male preserve. A discussion about this problem with a woman who had been involved with the Commonwealth Women's Advisory Council led to an invitation to write a report on the status of women in the church. At first I felt that as I was acting in a professional capacity I should do as little as possible to disturb the social field, so when the Anglican Women's Group held a meeting to discuss changes necessary in the church, I made no attempt to influence the agenda. As I was unable to attend the meeting the president prepared a report for me to read. The report revealed that the women were only concerned about playing their 'natural' female roles more effectively. Various suggestions were made such as sending people Get Well cards, reading to the elderly in their homes, visiting sick people in hospital, and providing transport for those in need. It was suggested that Anglican women should open their homes to those who were new to the district and that they should not confine their hospitality to churchgoers but be prepared to care for everyone. At these morning teas it was suggested that Anglican women should explain to the newcomers 'how the diocese works'. No one of course would have pointed out that Christian patriarchal ideology was operating to ensure that the ministry of women was not conducted in the sanctuary. While most of the female members of our congregation were unconcerned about the fact that women had not been asked to become lay readers, some male lay readers were worried about institutional sexism. Several of them spoke to our minister who assured them that in due course women would become lay readers. The matter was raised in the parish council and the names of 29 women who had the necessary qualifications to be lay readers were put forward by a parish councillor, but no motion was moved. After several months had passed and no move had been made to invite women to become lay readers, I decided to raise the issue with other church women. While I found that most were not interested in the issue—a woman who had always worked and who had been president of the local Chamber of Commerce told me that she had been brought up to believe that men should run the Church—I did find a few allies. I mentioned to our minister in a joking way that I was thinking of leading a women's revolution.

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In the Anglican Church the local incumbent is in a very strong position indeed. Church administration, modelled on that of the Tudor monarchy, is not democratic. In the last resort all a parish council is entitled to manage is the church funds; other decisions are made by the incumbent. When I asked our minister why he had not licensed women as lay readers he told me that if he had done this he would have divided the parish. When I pointed out that the congregation had accepted the ministry of women before he came he refused to discuss the matter any further. However he did tell me that he personally believed that Christ can work through women: 'He's not bound to work through males.' He said he was not opposed even to the ordination of women but doubted whether a woman, particularly a married woman, should be in sole pastoral charge of a parish. He did not think this would fit in with a wife's primary duty which is to look after her husband and children. I should emphasise that our minister has done a great deal to further the spiritual growth of women. When he first came to our parish only one small group, consisting mainly of women, as studying the Bible. By the time I interviewed him 150 people were attending Bible study groups regularly; most of these were women. Furthermore, a couple of women were studying in theological courses. But while there was considerable emphasis on the spiritual development of women, the synod resolution of 1972 was virtually ignored in our parish. Gradually the situation began to change. On 10 July 1983 a notice appeared in St Paul's Church paper headed 'Administration of Communion'. It read: 'During July we welcome Mrs Susan Denton and Mrs Ann Taylor amongst those who participate in the distribution of communion. They follow in the tradition of former years when Louise Peters, Dorothy Smith and Jane Olsen served it.' While it could be argued that these women were following in the same tradition, their status was still much less than that of the original women. Of these Louise Peters was a fully licensed lay preacher, Dorothy Smith was a licensed lay reader and Jane Olsen was a deaconess. Furthermore, the women were being asked to accept the status of chalice-bearers, a status below that of lay reader which had been given to the sixteen men, none of whom were as well qualified as the women. While the women could read the lessons and administer communion they could not take parts of the Communion Service like the men. The announcement in the church paper surprised Susan Denton as she had not been asked if she would like to become a chalice bearer.

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When after attending a mid-week service she noticed her name on the roster, together with that of her husband, she became, she said, 'suddenly aware that there might be some good in my going up there. There might be a blessing'. However, she felt inadequate. She talked things over with her husband, who assured her that she was capable, though he admitted that he 'didn't like women up there'. On the last Sunday in July the Dentons both distributed Communion together. Susan found it an enriching experience. The fact that women administered Holy Communion drew no unfavourable comments from the congregation. Our minister reported that he had had several positive comments. Furthermore the experience of administering Communion changed Susan Denton. She now felt she wanted to be licensed as a lay reader. She told me: 1 want the complete approval of the congregation. I don't want to slip in by the back door.' However, when a lay reader who regarded the situation as unjust took up a petition on behalf of the two women, she decided that she would prefer the back door, especially when she learned that some lay readers refused to sign the document. At her request the petition was abandoned. After the women had acted as chalice-bearers I interviewed our minister. He agreed that as the congregation had accepted the two women there was now no reason why they should not be licensed. While no attempt was made to do this a few more women were asked to become chalice-bearers. All at first refused the offer, saying they could not see themselves in this role. However after discussion most of them accepted. A typical example of the complicated attitudes to be found in the parish at the time came from an elderly retired man who is one of the most devoted workers in the parish. He has very definite ideas about the role women should play in the church. While not opposed to their being chalice-bearers he expressed a fear about women taking over the church. He believes women should never be asked to preach. The fact that no women were licensed as lay readers did not trouble him. He feared that women, having set their sights on getting power in commercial enterprises, had now decided 'we'll have a go at the church'. The new women chalice-bearers were only asked to act when their husbands were available. As Ann Taylor's husband was often away she was rarely called on. Months passed and eventually Ann's husband wrote to the parish council drawing their attention to the fact that by not licensing these well-qualified women the church was

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demonstrating a gap between policy and practice. The parish council became concerned about the issue and in June 1984 it published the following statement in the Parish News: The Parish Council has discussed (over the last two months) a motion requesting licences for suitable women members of the congregation to become Lay Readers and Lay Preachers. Such requests were normally presented to the Bishop. At their June Meeting, the Parish Council decided to adopt this motion. Thirteen further months elapsed. Finally, in July 1985, three years after the sixteen men had been licensed, five women and three men were licensed as lay readers. Part of the delay was caused by Ann Taylor's reluctance to accept the offer. She eventually declined. No attempt has been made in this study to estimate how typical our parish might be. Undoubtedly there would be different stories to be told in different places. In some the status of women would be better, in others, particularly the parish in our diocese which bars women from sitting on its parish council, the situation would be worse. What this story does illustrate forcefully is the gap between theory and practice and the inertia of an established pattern of thought. This will not necessarily be removed merely by taking away legal barriers, even those which have prevented the ordination of women. It is usually, though not undisputedly, said that sociological studies should be Value-free' in the sense of merely stating facts without incorporating the author's own values. I have made no attempt in this chapter to achieve this attitude, for it seems to me that Christians must be prepared to make value judgments about what is right or wrong, particularly in the church area. I regard the position of women in the Church as unjust. However, to judge a situation unjust is one thing and to make personal judgments is another. This study has shown that it is by no means a case of clergy wishing to hold on to entrenched authority against the wishes of the laity. It contains an equally strong element of conservatism in the laity, including lay women. Perhaps in the end any attempt to apportion blame would be pointless. What the study does demonstrate is the need for voluntary affirmative action along the lines indicated by Marie Tulip in her chapter. This will ensure that the power of patriarchy is lessened.

8 Ministers' wives Continuity and change in relation to their husbands' work KENNETH DEMPSEY In her recent book Married to the Job,1 Janet Finch says that the part that women play in their husbands' work is a relatively unexplored issue in sociological literature. In an attempt to fill the void Finch herself offers a synthesis of the relevant research in which she demonstrates that all wives are caught up in their husbands' work to at least some degree. Using the findings from her own study of a sample of English ministers' wives, she cogently argues that their incorporation in the work of their husbands is as great or greater than that of the wives of men in other honorific occupations including policemen, politicians and doctors.2 In an earlier publication Finch shows that the members of her sample were highly committed to the role of the minister's wife and that they believed in the indispensability of their husbands' work to the success of their church.3 Many of the laity I have surveyed or interviewed on the attitudes and behaviour of Australian ministers' wives would be agreeably surprised by Finch's findings. These laity believe—and deplore—that there is a growing trend for ministers' wives to be much less enthusiastic about participating in local church life and generally supporting their husbands' work than were wives of earlier generations. For example, a majority of the 87 lay leaders who participated in a survey I conducted in Victoria in 1984 said that ministers' wives were less committed to assisting their husbands in their work at the present time than they were ten years ago. Finch's arguments are based on data collected from a sample of English Methodist and Anglican wives in the 1980s. A majority of the 30 Australian ministers' wives in the study I am reporting on here

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displayed a similar level of commitment to their husbands' work. The sample covers a period of some 70 years and includes six wives from the 1980s. Although it is not a representative sample it is worth noting—especially in the face of the lay point of view I have just reported—that five of the six wives of the 1980s displayed a very high commitment to their husbands' work. My sample, however, did include a number of wives who had become very disenchanted with at least some aspects of the traditional role of the minister's wife. These women resisted—usually unsuccessfully—meeting certain expectations. The failure of their 'rebellion' demonstrates that whether morally committed or not ministers' wives are caught up to a marked degree in their husbands' work. Their rebellion also illuminated a number of the factors responsible for such involvement. The data on the behaviour of these and other wives were gathered in the course of two community studies, each of which had a sociohistorical or longitudinal dimension to it. The first was conducted in the New South Wales town I call Barool and the second in a Victorian town I call Smalltown. The Barool study covers the years between 1905 and 1967 and the Smalltown study the years from 1973 until the present. During the period covered in the Barool study 26 Methodist ministers resided in the town and I was able, through interviewing, correspondence and in some instances observation, to gain sufficient data on 24 of their wives to categorise their attitudes to their husbands' work and the nature of their involvement in it.4 During the eleven years that the Smalltown study has been in progress I have been able to collect comparable material for the wives of six of the seven Anglican, Methodist, Presbyterian and Uniting Church ministers who have resided in this town during these years. The seventh minister was a woman and unmarried. Because the similarities in the relationship of both Smalltown and Barool wives to their husbands' work are much greater than any dissimilarities I am, for the purposes of this paper, treating them as one sample. This approach is also warranted because of a number of important parallels between the two social contexts in which these 30 ministers' wives lived. Both Barool and Smalltown were centres for surrounding agricultural districts, relying on the prosperity of their hinterland for their survival. Each had a population of only a few thousand. In both cases it was farmers and their wives and, to a lesser extent, businessmen and their wives who provided the majority of active supporters and leaders for the Protestant churches I have been researching.5

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The part played by the ministers' wives of Barool and Smalltown All 30 ministers' wives supported their husbands in their work to some degree and at least two-thirds of them to a very great degree. Nevertheless eleven of the Barool wives were strongly criticised by at least some sections of the laity for giving their husbands insufficient support. But even these were, in fact, enmeshed in their husbands' work, often despite serious efforts on their part to reduce their involvement. Here in fairly specific terms is an account of the part that Barool and Smalltown ministers' wives played in their husbands' work. At least two-thirds of them presided over one or more of the women's organisations of the church or parish, assisted with the Sunday school or youthwork or both, and with such fundraising activities as fetes and concerts. These things they did usually without taking over or trying to take over from local lay leaders of long standing. They often accompanied their husbands on country preaching appointments, endeavoured to be friendly towards everybody, and strove to be exemplary in their personal behaviour and to ensure that the behaviour of their children did not in any way prejudice their husbands' work. Most served as sermon critics, confidantes and co-strategists in their husbands' efforts to accomplish such goals as getting rid of an 'obstructionist' lay leader. It seems most were sources of encouragement and reassurance in situations where organisations were often failing, congregations and financial support declining, and lay men and women were often prone to criticise their husbands' efforts. Some served on flower rosters for the church, some preached or spoke at women's meetings, and some started new groups. Only one of the 30 wives engaged in full-time paid employment and this was only for a period of several months. Two others took parttime employment and a third gave over a large amount of time to trying to develop a career as a writer and a lecturer. All of these women continued to support their husbands' work in a variety of ways, although the woman in full-time employment was forced to give up attending meetings of the women's organisations and the woman who was trying to establish a career as a writer declined to be involved in such activities. The two women who worked part-time said they would not contemplate working full-time because this would seriously impede their

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husbands' work. I did not collect information on the attitude of all ministers' wives to the issue of taking paid employment. It would have been an irrelevant area of inquiry as far as the women of the pre-Second World War period were concerned and probably for all of the women living in Barool before the 1960s. Up till that time few married women, especially those married to professionals, were working. However, a number of the ministers' wives who lived in Barool in the 1960s and in Smalltown in the 1970s said that it was out of the question for them to take paid employment because of the detrimental consequences it would have for their church work and for their husbands' work. In summary, there is a good deal of evidence to show that the great majority of the 30 ministers' wives were heavily involved in their husbands' work and that most sought to make that work as effective as possible.

The costs of being a minister's wife What is particularly interesting is that this involvement and commitment occurred despite the considerable cost to the wives. For example, they often lived in houses that were inferior to those of many, even most, of their parishioners, and houses which were often inadequately furnished and sometimes in need of repair. In fact there were problems and sometimes disruptive controversies over the parsonage, its condition or its furnishings, during the incumbencies of at least four of the couples in my study. For example, so appalled was one ministerial couple over the standard of the housing provided that they devoted as much of their energy to what proved to be an unsuccessful campaign to have a new parsonage built as they did to any other aspect of church affairs. A second couple sold their car to buy furniture for what they regarded as a totally inadequately furnished parsonage. All 30 husbands received, by professional standards, quite inferior incomes, and because of an inadequate superannuation scheme faced the prospect of retirement without necessarily having the funds to buy a house. The wives had to accept a constant and extensive invasion of their privacy, partly because there were no time limits to their husbands' job and partly because of its honorific nature. One minister's wife spoke of the problems that the 'do-gooder' image of her husband created for her:

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If I start talking to some of the women of the church about needing some time for myself or complaining about the way John's work interferes with family life I get little sympathy. You can hear them thinking how can she be so selfish when her husband devotes his life to helping other people? She should do everything possible to assist him in his work. The invasion of privacy was inevitable because much of the minister's 'good works' occurred in the parsonage or manse or were organised from there. Because there were no paid staff to help in the demanding and extensive range of tasks that fell to a minister his wife ended up doing double duty. The wives not only freed their husbands by taking major or entire responsibility for domestic tasks and for childcare but they also served as receptionists, hostesses and at times counsellors.6 In 1950 Mrs Collins, the Barool Methodist minister's wife at the time, said when talking to some of the lay women after church one Sunday morning: 'When I go through the gate of the parsonage I want to forget all about the church.' Mrs Collins was enunciating an unachievable goal. The last place it was possible to forget the church and its people was in the parsonage. This was the place where many church meetings were held and where the minister was most likely to unburden himself to his wife about the frustrations and disappointments of his job. It was a provocative statement because it challenged the prevailing arrangement between ministers, ministers' wives, and the laity whereby the minister's wife freed her husband from household and family tasks for his demanding work. It was also provocative because it flew in the face of the fiercely held lay belief that because they (that is the laity) had provided the parsonage and its furnishings they should have access to it (and to its inhabitants) more or less whenever they wanted to. The problems inherent in the situation of the kind I have just been describing were exacerbated by the 'fish bowl' existence of ministers' wives. They were living in small communities with populations possessing effective gossip chains articulated through the many cross-cutting ties existing among community members. These problems were further exacerbated by the fact that they lived in a social milieu where they were expected in their personal behaviour to be above reproach, to be friendly towards all but not to play favourites by forming close friendships. As Finch has pointed out, this last condition sometimes ensures that ministers' wives lead a fairly lonely existence despite the constant parade of people through

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their doors and their heavy involvement in the wide range of social activities connected with church life.7 There were other costs to bear as well. By marrying a minister, a minister's wife committed herself to a life of geographical mobility which often adversely affected the schooling of her children and which usually put considerable distances between herself and her relatives.8 Another part of the cost was the inequitable share of the workload of the church that wives invariably had to bear. In 1918 at an official farewell to the Reverend and Mrs Bruce Reddropp—a couple who had worked with great application and considerable success for four years in Barool—a famous minister of the time said: 'You don't care what a lawyer's wife is like, nor the butcher's, nor the baker's, but directly you hear of a new minister coming to town you want to know what sort of wife he has got.' Although made in 1918 these remarks capture the attitude of the laity in both Barool and Smalltown for the course of the 70 years under review. Ministers' wives were distinguished from other wives by the extent and nature of their involvement in their husbands' work. It was exceptional for any of the wives in my sample not to do far more than the great majority of the laity. Where a wife failed to, say because of illness, it was remembered and remarked upon almost 30 years later as the primary reason for that woman's husband not having an outstanding incumbency.

The reasons for the incorporation of wives in their husbands' work In the face of the cost that ministers' wives had to shoulder, why did they centre so much of their lives on their husbands' work? There were both structural and cultural factors at work which constrained wives to participate in this way: first, the social and economic rewards of being a minister's wife; second, the presence of a strong ideological commitment to the value of the work the husband was doing and to the part a wife played in that work; third, socialisation in earlier years that ensured most wives were committed to and skilled in meeting many of the specific expectations held of them; fourth, the pressure on ministers' wives to tailor their performance to the expectations of their audience; and fifth, the manner in which their husband's work was organised, especially the fact that it centred on the parsonage or manse and had no firm time limits.

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The social and economic rewards First there were social and economic gains from marrying a minister and helping him making the job as successful as possible. The majority of the women in my two samples came from working-class or lower-middle-class backgrounds. Furthermore, only three or four of them had the necessary qualifications to pursue professional careers in their own right. So by marrying ministers these women improved their social status. This was especially the case for the ministers' wives of the pre-Second World War period when the standing of ministers was considerably higher than it was from about the 1970s onwards. There were also status gains for the wife in the context of the local church. A woman who became engaged to a young minister or trainee minister, moved as it were, from 'the back row' to 'the front row' of local church life. Within the Methodist Church the standing of wives was symbolised by the tradition of their accompanying their husbands to the front door of the sanctuary at the end of the service to shake hands with the people. A woman who was selected by a young minister or a trainee minister as a suitable partner won immediate approval in the world of the church for choosing 'the path of selfdenial and service'. There were considerable economic incentives for the wife to make her husband's work as effective as possible. Some of these too were more effective before the war; others continued to be very effective until the middle of the 1970s, and others remain effective until the present time. In the Methodist Church for most of the first half of this century, the minister's stipend, which apart from help in kind, was for both him and his wife their only source of livelihood, was third on the list of financial commitments to be met from local funds. Both commercial bills and the levies of the central organisation of the church had to be met before the minister's stipend was paid. There is no record of any Barool minister of this period not eventually receiving his full stipend but there were instances of it being delayed for several months and in at least one case of a portion of the stipend still owing to a minister when he left Barool. Barool ministers and their wives, however, were aware of situations where ministerial couples never received their full stipend. This knowledge influenced them to work hard to make a tangible success of the local church. Methodist ministers and their wives have always been dependent upon the laity for a house. Furthermore, before the Methodist Church

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joined the Uniting Church in 1977 they were also dependent upon the laity for the furnishings of that house. Any updating of household furnishings was entirely at the discretion of the local leaders. There was in Barool a tendency for the laity to adopt the practice of rewarding ministers and ministers' wives of whom they approved by paying particular attention to the parsonage and penalising those of whom they disapproved by 'letting things run down'. So, for example, plans to recarpet the parsonage during the time that I was doing fieldwork in Barool in 1966 were abandoned because the women of the Ladies Church Aid felt that the minister's wife was not showing enough interest in their organisation or in them personally. Instead of buying the carpet they bought new heaters for the church. The secretary of the Ladies Church Aid confided to me that whereas the members of the 'Aid' would have gained no personal benefit from the carpet they would gain benefit from the heaters. Ministers always need the support of local people if their careers are to be advanced, and as a minister's wife's economic and social interests are inextricably bound up with the success of her husband's career she is also dependent on lay support for her advancement. Not all appointments within Protestant churches carry the same status or necessarily the same economic remuneration. Ministers and ministers' wives learn early in their careers that better appointments do not hang so much on showing a concern for people in poor circumstances as for ensuring that the churches in their charge are as financially viable as possible. Careers are also facilitated by expanding congregations, keeping the support of the younger members of church families and acquiring reputations for being friendly, caring and cooperative. A minister's career is furthered by a wife who demonstrates she is strongly committed to the traditional role of the minister's wife and shows skill in that role. Career achievement was particularly important to Barool ministers in the first half of the century because their training did not equip them for any other professional career. In these circumstances, wives had a great deal to gain by working as hard as possible to make a success of their husbands' career and a good deal to lose by failing to do so. Some of the best insights into the motivation of ministers' wives for supporting their husbands during this period came from a minister's wife who had not been resident in Barool herself but who had served in a number of similar appointments and who had discussed with several Barool ministerial couples their approach to their work. She reported that like her husband and herself these

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couples had done everything possible to attract people to church because livelihood, future careers, and immediate happiness depended upon the church being a successful enterprise'. She went on to say: [W]e could not expect invitations to good appointments if we did not make a success of our present one. My husband, like most ministers I knew, was ambitious to get on in the church, so he worked very hard himself and looked to me to help him in every way possible. The Barool ministers look for the same support from their wives. We ran concerts, bazaars, socials and picnics, to gain sufficient income so that we could receive our stipend and always with a mind to our future career. In the appointments we were in during the 1930s we found ourselves in competition with the Presbyterians for the support of the various office people, bank people and business people who came to the town. We wanted to make our church programmes as attractive as possible so as to gain their membership. We needed the financial support they would give to the church; we needed the lift they would give to the 'tone' of the church and, of course, they were particularly interesting people to have around. So I ran afternoon teas at the parsonage; I took up speaking at special women's functions, all with these ends in mind. But we were careful not to offend by neglecting the stalwarts of the church—the local farmers and business men and tradesmen who were our bread and butter—we could only succeed by pleasing them. A decline in the standing of the churches and their clergy—the causes of which I discuss elsewhere9 had, by the 1950s, significantly diminished the social and economic advantages of being a minister's wife. However, these advantages had not entirely disappeared because, as Finch has argued, once a woman has committed herself to a minister through marriage she can probably best serve her own economic and social interests by working to make a success of his job: [A] higher standard of living can be gained over a life time by being a wife than most women could achieve in their own right. In those circumstances it may well sound the most sensible economic option for a wife to invest her energies in her husband's work, thus promoting his earning potential rather than to pursue her own.

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This statement was especially true for the women in my study because most of them lived at a time and in an economic environment that offered few opportunities for married women to take paid employment and in a social environment where there was virtually total opposition to the notion of ministers' wives going out to work. At the same time that the economic and social advantages of being married to a minister were being diminished probably most of the lay men and women that ministers' wives associated with were improving their position economically and socially. In other words ministers and their wives did not share in the growing affluence of Australian society to nearly the same degree as most of the leading lay families. Furthermore, as the affluence of such families increased they often sought admission to the more prestigious social circles within the community and in the process they often chose to cut their active connections with the church and its minister and his wife. Such developments diminished one of the social gains of being a minister's wife in a country town, namely close informal association with some of the fairly prominent families. Some of the wives commented on the failure of younger members of formerly prominent church families to draw them into their friendship circles. A greater number spoke with considerable feeling about the economic hardship they were experiencing at a time that their laity were 'doing well'. One put it this way: The lay people just gave us enough to keep body and soul together. There they were driving around in their big American cars and often we did not have enough money in the bank to pay for the latest repair bill to our old Austin. We were wearing it out for them.' Disappointment and, at times, resentment, however, did not cause most ministers' wives to give up supporting their husbands in many aspects of their work. There were many reasons for their persisting. One of the most important was their commitment to Christianity itself and to the Church as the necessary instrument of its maintenance and, ideally, expansion.

Believing in the cause As far as I have been able to establish all the 30 ministers' wives of Barool and Smalltown were committed Christians. It appears that most sought to express their religious commitment through working for the Church and most believed that the success of the Church was essential for the advancement of Christianity and that the Church could only be successful if it had working for it good and able

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ministers and ministers' wives. Many of the women in this sample— especially those who had married ministers in the first-century—saw themselves as called to the full-time service of God. They believed that by marrying a minister they were able to realise this calling and at the same time realise their goals to be wives and mothers. It is important to bear in mind that there were no religious orders for women in the Methodist or Presbyterian churches for most of the period under study. Women can now be ordained to the ministry within the Uniting Church but the only full-time economically supported option for them in the former Methodist and Presbyterian churches was the position of deaconess. This was a role usually taken by a single woman and one which generally had less standing and less influence in local church life than that of a minister's wife. The commitment of at least a majority of the ministers' wives in my two samples to their husbands' work was so strong that it is true to say that for them it was a vicarious career, a joint enterprise. For example, they made a habit of talking about 'our circuit' or 'our next appointment'. The extent of a wife's identity with her husband's career is illustrated by the following comments made by a Smalltown minister's wife in the 1980s: 'I am saddened by the approach of many younger ministers' wives who rebel against being ministers' wives even to the point where they have stopped going to church and stopped joining the women's groups. You know they don't help their husbands' work at all.' She continued: 'Some ministers have told me they don't know how their preaching is going down because their wives are not attending church so they are not getting any feedback.' This woman, who was frequently described in the parish, as 'her husband's greatest asset' organised her home so as to facilitate her husband's work. She served as his typist as well as his receptionist and hostess, regularly attended church functions and organisations, and introduced one new organisation to the church because she believed it would meet important needs of younger sections of the church community. The inextricable way in which her personal goals were mixed up with her husband's work was borne out by her teaching Sunday school so that she might have an influence on the quality of Sunday school life so that in turn her child would receive an adequate religious education. Although not officially described as such hers was, in reality, a joint career: she had made her husband's work her own. The strong commitment this wife and many others displayed to their husbands' work probably came in large part from their

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participation as young women in local churches. Here they gained a knowledge of many of the very specific expectations that congregations, ministers themselves, and members of the Church's hierarchy held of ministers' wives, and usually a commitment to meeting those expectations. One can push the socialisation argument too far, however, because there was a decline in the commitment of some of the wives who had been active as young women in local congregations to many of the traditional expectations of a minister's wife. Other factors had intervened to erode the impact of early socialisation, for example the increasing emphasis in the postwar period on the importance of family life, of motherhood and of companionship within marriage. Some of these wives, for example, objected to the continual invasion of the parsonage and tried to maintain some measure of privacy within it. The same wives insisted that they had married a man and not a minister and were concerned to relate to their husbands as men and not primarily as ministers. The same wives also expressed concern over the impact their husbands' work and the part they themselves were playing in the life of the church was having on their children. In most cases the decline in their commitment to some of the traditional expectations was not due to exposure to the feminist movement. Only two or three of the wives who were resident in Barool in the mid-1960s tried to advance their personal needs as justification for not fulfilling some of the traditional expectations of them. The Smalltown wives of the 1970s and 1980s did, of course, work as minister's wives at a time when feminism was, so to speak, 'in full swing'. As it happened only one of these wives gave much credence to the feminist movement and it was only in her actions that there could be observed a significant impact of feminist ideas.11

Local pressure to conform Even where commitment to the role of minister's wife or belief in the worthlessness of many of its traditional tasks is eroded ministers' wives will often behave in an expected manner because the costs of not doing so appear too great. There are the long-term costs of damaging a husband's career and therefore one's own economic and social interests as well as those of one's children. There are also the immediate costs of earning disapproval of those one is interacting with every day and alternatively the gain of earning their approval if

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one meets their expectations. It is not surprising therefore, as Goffman has observed, that the character of the immediate situation and of the interaction itself (as well as external constraints) works to induce certain patterns of behaviour.12 In the face-to-face situation there is a strong tendency for actors to match their performance to the expectations of their audience, especially where the audience exhibits a homogeneous point of view.13 In both Barool and Smalltown ministers' wives found themselves in situations where the laity adhered with great conviction to very explicit expectations of the minister's wife. The intensity of this adherence was demonstrated when expectations were breached. For example, in Barool there was an explicit expectation that a minister's wife focus her social activities on members of the congregation and not look beyond them for friendship. Barool ministers' wives knew of this expectation from their years as young women in their local congregation. The strength with which it was held in Barool was revealed on several occasions when a minister's wife offended by forming friendships with non-Methodists, especially ones of higher social standing in the community than the Methodists. A Mrs Forsyte, for example, was strongly criticised for this: 'She thought she was just too good for us. She preferred to hob nob with the elite of the district.' This was a reference to Mrs Forsyte's practice of finding her personal friends among well-to-do graziers and the town's professionals. She was also criticised 45 years after she had been in Barool by a number of my informants for not being friendly enough towards members of the congregation and for maintaining distance between herself and them by doing such things as 'failing to see us when she was out shopping'. As far as I have been able to establish this wife did not yield to the pressure the laity were placing upon her. She was, however, a wealthy woman in her own right and therefore was not dependent on the laity for her economic security. What is more, her wealth and social background enabled her to find an alternative reference group in the immediate context. Yet the Barool laity had the last word because they refused to extend the Forsytes an invitation to stay beyond their second year. This was an unprecedented action for them to take. When the norm that a minister's wife should not work because it would interfere with her husband's work was breached in Barool by the one woman who took full-time employment, Barool people made their disapproval abundantly clear. One of the younger males of the church told the wife that she had no right to work, and to support his

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point of view he drew an analogy between the wife of a farmer and that of a minister. He said to her: The job of a farmer's wife is to help her husband on the farm and it is the same for you as a minister's wife. It is your job to help your husband with his work in the church so you should not take paid employment because this can only interfere with him doing his job properly. What is more, it stops you playing your part in the life of the church. This woman did not desist, but she and her husband found it impossible to live with the disapproval aroused by breaking the lay people's expectations of them, and they left after only six months in their appointment. In both Smalltown and Barool another important expectation was that a minister's wife should not try and 'take over' or impose unwanted programs on the laity, especially the women. Mrs Boyd, a minister's wife who tried in the face of gentle but determined opposition by the most powerful woman in the Barool church to persuade the Ladies Church Aid to increase their giving to the churches' overseas mission stations only managed to persuade the women to make a token increase in their contribution. The Boyds were temporary appointees to Barool and Mrs Brown, who was secretary of the LCA, told me that if she had known how Mrs Boyd was going to act she would not have brought the letters from the various mission stations requesting contributions to the meeting. She continued: It is a good thing they [the Boyds] are only staying for a few months because if they were here any longer we would have a few 'head on' clashes. Mrs Boyd made a career of being a minister's wife, but she may have been insensitive to the fact that in the Australian context her task was to be led rather than to lead because she had just returned from many years in a Pacific Islands missionary appointment. It seems that the lay women of the 1980s are often in a position to exercise the same kind of power because a Smalltown minister's wife who tried 'in minor ways' to wrest leadership from the laywomen was strongly criticised and her attempts ignored. Ministers' wives do not always comply when expectations are made explicit or sanctions are introduced. But much of the time they do because it is too costly to do otherwise. While they may believe that a particular task is not worth doing or may even be detrimental to

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themselves or to the life of the church they will perform it because they are committed to making their husbands' work as successful as possible or at least to doing nothing that will harm that work. Furthermore, they also have to cope with the expectations of their husbands. Often the husbands of the women in my sample held similar expectations to the laity. Even if a particular minister agreed that a specific expectation the laity held of his wife was unreasonable he usually preferred her to meet it because he held strongly to the view that his wife should support him in his work. Some ministers reported that they felt angered or let down if their wives failed to behave in a 'wifely' way because this made their job so much harder. The majority of ministers' wives who found themselves confronted by general disapproval of a course of behaviour they had adopted and who found their husbands were at least partially in sympathy with the lay expectations ended up meeting them. Understandably, they preferred to receive approval and goodwill rather than disapproval and ill-will from those who peopled their daily lives. So one minister's wife who believed that it was unnecessary for her to serve as president of one of the ladies' groups unhappily resumed the position because of the pressure applied to her by women of the church. She told me: They made it very plain that they did not like me giving up the job. I was repeatedly told that the meeting just was not working properly because I was not in the chair. They said they could not get along without me so I took on the presidentship again because my standing to one side was creating too much ill feeling and upsetting my husband. The kind of pressure that can be applied and the effectiveness of such pressure in gaining conformity from ministers' wives is borne out by a story another minister's wife told me. This woman gave up doing something she believed was in the interests of her husband's work and the church to assume a role that she believed was less important. At the official welcome to herself and her husband the Sunday school superintendent publicly expressed the hope that she would take on the position of the superintendency of the kindergarten section of the Sunday school because as he said 'there was nobody else to do the job'. A number of other people subsequently expressed the hope that she would comply with this request. She resisted at first on the grounds that she had no experience in this kind of work and that it would interfere with her travelling with her husband to country services and seeing members of the parish that she had little opportunity to meet. However in the face of the expectation of the

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superintendent and other members of the congregation and pressure from her husband she capitulated. For the whole of her time in this particular appointment she resented this Sunday school work. It must be stressed that probably most of the time most of the ministers' wives believed that the specific expectations of the laity and their husbands were worth meeting. It is also true that where they did not believe this they usually complied because the long-term costs of not doing so were too great. This was borne out by the fact that the six Barool ministers who had wives who persistently deviated from traditional expectations and who failed to modify their performance under pressure, left Barool prematurely or resigned from the ministry altogether. It was clear to all concerned that these departures were due to a marked degree to the attitudes and behaviour of the wives. Three ministers told me that the inability or unwillingness of their wives to support them to any great degree in their work was the main reason for their resignation from the ministry.

Living on the job As long as a minister and his wife remain in the parish some involvement in her husband's work is inevitable for his wife. This inevitability stems not only from the operation of the sanctions that I have been describing but also because of her geographical proximity to his work and the manner in which that work is organised. Because there are no time limits to a minister's work, because so much of it goes on in the family home and because of its sacrificial nature, wives usually find that their lives and the lives of their children are organised around their husbands' work and that they are active participants in that work. Ministers' wives answer phones, entertain visitors and at times substitute for their husbands by listening to people pour out their troubles. They try to justify to their children the chronic absenteeism at meal times of their father, his preoccupation with other people's problems when he is at home and the frequent invasion of the home by his parishioners. Even ministers' wives who are not committed Christians or who have no strong commitments to supporting their husbands in their work find themselves caught up in that work to at least some degree because they 'live in his office'. For example, a Smalltown minister's wife for whom her husband's work 'was anything but a top priority' came to terms with meetings being held frequently in her home. She attended church much more regularly than she would have had her husband

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not been a minister; she regularly listened to parishioners discuss their personal problems and she tried to cope with the knowledge that many parishioners were dissatisfied with her level of involvement in local church life and were critical of her failure to give her husband more support. Involvement in the minister's work on the part of such a wife is not a product of a conscious decision but of ad hoc reflex-like responses to requests and demands that are inevitable because she is 'living on the job'. Behavioural commitment of this kind is increased by the moral commitment most women have to making their marriages work and the knowledge that the success of their husbands'job is closely linked with success in marriage. Taking up paid employment will obviously reduce the amount of phone answering, entertaining and voluntary counselling a minister's wife engages in but it will not totally exclude such activities. The extraordinary lengths it is necessary to go to minimise such intrusion is illustrated by the following story. This wife met the customary expectations of a minister's wife during the first few years of her marriage, but she gradually became disenchanted with playing the traditional role. So in order to escape many of its demands she took full-time employment in a town one hour's drive from her husband's parish. This gave her relief at least during the day from attending church functions and answering the phone etc., but she still resented her involvement in the weekend round of church activities, so she used the money she had accumulated from working to buy a home for herself two hours' drive from the parish. She then made a practice of escaping there virtually every weekend.14 It is undeniable that some of the wives in my sample deliberately sought to reduce the level of their involvement in their husbands' work and some, like the woman whose story I have just told, would have preferred to have separated themselves entirely from it. However, these women were the exception rather than the rule: the majority were strongly committed to making a success of their husbands' work, even if they did not agree with some of the specific things required of them. Many of these wives were so caught up in their husbands' work and identified so strongly with it psychologically, that in effect they had joint careers with their husbands. They were not, however, careers of equals, for the wives' roles were secondary and subordinate. I have tried to show that even where the wives had little ideological or moral commitment to their husbands' work they were still caught

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up in it to a marked degree. A number of powerful structural and cultural constraints facilitated this. Because of the way work is organised in this society—it is men rather than women who get the better-paying, more secure, and more status-conferring positions—it was in the interests of ministers' wives to further their husbands' careers. There is also a strong cultural expectation that wives will support their husbands in their work and put their husbands' work before their own interests.15 I have shown that the wives in my sample were constrained to support their husbands in their work by forces operating in the immediate situation and by the nature of the interactive processes themselves. Usually wives needed the friendship and acceptance of the laity, and the laity had the ability to sanction them economically and socially: they used gossip, joking and persistence to ensure that wives conformed to their expectations. As one wife said: It proved easier to go along with them than fight them. I've tried fighting and it just causes so much trouble. You've got to be at it all the time, you've got to win the same ground over and over again. While you're trying to make your point your husband's work suffers, your marriage gets hurt and the kids suffer as well. I do many things in the church I believe are futile and I believe that by doing them I deny my right to lead my own life. I don't like myself for doing them but there seems to be no other way. [This woman's husband eventually gave up parish work] I have also sought to show that the manner in which a minister's work is organised, with much of it centering on the home and its lack of time limits, guaranteed some involvement of his wife in that work. Even the minister's wife who bought the weekender still had to deal with parishioners on weeknights. As Finch has convincingly argued, there is a commitment to a husband's work which proceeds not only from numerous acts of participating but from the personal and familial sacrifice these have entailed.16 A wife is also compelled by the knowledge that various projects can be realised only if her husband continues at his work and that for him to do this requires at least a modicum of support from her. So commitment from ministers' wives follows in part at least from 'having staked things of value upon their husbands' work'.17 I have stressed that the costs of being a minister's wife were high. Perhaps what I have failed to stress sufficiently is that for many the

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rewards did outweigh the costs. One of the more important rewards for most of the wives in my sample was a vicarious occupational identity^ In fact once married to a minister this was for most of them the only opportunity for an occupation apart from that of housewife and mother. As Finch observed in another context, 'it is the one available identity which does not confine a woman to the private domestic sphere but which offers her some kind of foothold—albeit a vicarious one—in the public domain'.18 The ministers' wives of the future may come to exercise much more control over their time and labour than did the wives I have been discussing. Entering the workforce is the most likely way of their achieving these ends. Many lay people have pointed out to me that while they disapprove of ministers' wives working it is a growing trend and that once firmly established it will mean that ministers' wives generally will do less in the church and give their husbands less support in the home than in the past. It must be borne in mind, however, that the possible gains coming for wives from these developments may be more than offset by the costs entailed. I say this because ministers' wives will, for the foreseeable future, live in a society organised on the assumption that it is men who are the primary breadwinners and providers for their families and that any employment that a wife takes is to be organised in such a way as to facilitate rather than inhibit her husband's breadwinning role. Wives will still be expected to support their husbands in their work and to take the main responsibility for the home and the family. They will be criticised for pursuing their own careers to the point where they jeopardise such responsibilities. Finch calls it doing 'triple duty'.19 If the findings of my study are a good indication then there will still be in the foreseeable future many ministers' wives who prefer a vicarious occupational identity to one of their own, for whom the gains of this identity outweigh the costs of doing 'triple duty'. In the lives of these wives the past will contend with the present and the future.

9 A clergy wife's story MARLENE COHEN

To be or not to be is fortunately not the question. The question is what form our being takes. Pascal, Descartes and many since them have defined human essence primarily in terms of thinking capacity: only a reed, but a thinking reed . . . a thing that thinks . . . I think, therefore I am. When God was asked for a self-description He declined to express His being in terms of faculties or achievements. He merely replied with the statement 1 am'. Human beings were formed in that image at Creation, it was despoiled in them at the Fall and it can be accounted restored to them at the Cross. We are, because He is. Our essence derives from His: He is the only ground of our being. The implication of a divinely derived identity has been clear to me since I was fourteen. As a schoolgirl, and then from the age of sixteen as a teacher (mostly in Australia but for a short time in England), I went into each classroom and staffroom for Christ. The conversion of my headmistress was my first endeavour, while I was still a pupil, but I regretfully record that it was quite dismally unsuccessful. It took me some years to realise that it helped to care about people before attempting their conversion. A more successful enterprise, perhaps for this reason, was the evangelistic campaign I launched in my own student year, by means of the distribution of decision cards and impromptu lunch-hour talks. Becoming a teacher gave me considerably more power to do this: within a matter of days of taking over a new class I would have everyone enrolled as Scripture Union members! I took and engineered all kinds of opportunities for witnessing to Christ and challenging others—staff and pupils alike—to follow Him also. Even transport to 100

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and from school, or a staff washroom in a boys' Prep School in England, could provide a suitable location for successful endeavour. I must often have appeared thoroughly obnoxious, but didn't realise this until some time later, fortunately by a gentle process unattended by too much guilt. By the age of about nineteen, I had been back in Australia for some time and had become increasingly disdainful of the easy life of Christians at home. 'Some want to live within the sound of church or chapel bell: I want to run a rescue shop within a yard of hell,' declared C.T. Studd—and I.1 The fact that this declaration involved him in leaving his wife and daughter in England for twenty years would have seemed to me then a feat of sheer nobility. I had been reading a whole range of missionary literature and had been particularly challenged by Oswald Sanders' version of the feeding of the 5000: he depicted it as an evangelistic setting with Europeans occupying all the front rows, receiving helping after helping of the bread of life while the Third World sat waiting, with little hope of even the crumbs. The Church Missionary Society (of which my uncle had been the state secretary and my father the home secretary some years earlier) was advertising the need for a primary school teacher in Borneo and I decided to offer myself for the job. It came as a great surprise to be rejected; apparently I was too young to become a missionary. The suggestion was made that I continue teaching in Australia and apply again when I was older. I joined the League of Youth of the society and was later invited to leave teaching to become its full-time youth secretary, responsible for outreach to parishes in Sydney and throughout the state. I gathered together a team of about 70 young people (some of them men in theological training, today occupying official leadership positions in Australia and overseas), wrote a handbook, organised a training weekend and launched a program of team ministry. Some months before this appointment I had graduated from primary to secondary school teaching and one day at an after-school prayer meeting a student asked me if I would pray for her family and in particular for her brother David. As the three of us attended the same church it was not long before she introduced us one Sunday evening at Fellowship. David joined our youth teams soon after, and on another Sunday evening—at a country service where I was preaching—he committed his life fully to Christ. We were married about a year later.

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The week before our wedding we attended the society's annual summer school, as I had been responsible for much of the planning involved, with 400 people living in. At the same summer school of the previous year Bishop Stanway had asked me to go to Tanzania (then Tanganyika) as youth director for his diocese: but he told us later that it was apparent even then that I was unlikely to be free to accept. Other than the reference to my acquiring a husband I don't think there has been any indication so far of my sexual status, and there is an appropriateness in that omission. The circumstance of my being female was an irrelevance in my ministry. At that stage of my life I was not aware within myself nor made aware by others that sexual differentiation had any bearing on usefulness to Christ. My life's theme of total ministry was pursued with the dedication of ordination. Even today when people ask me 'Do you want to be ordained?' the question can surprise me: I have truly considered myself ordained since I was fourteen. There were three components in my definition of ordination then, and they are the same three now: a personal call from God, a personal answering of the call, and a recognition of both by other Christians. Since my marriage I have suffered the bewilderment of finding the third requirement withdrawn without explanation. The reason I now see for that withdrawal—but I did not see it clearly for about eighteen years—was not my sexual status alone but a combination of my marital and my sexual status; not only have these stood in contrast to my fundamental sense of Christian personhood, but they have been in active combat with it for the past three years, and in unconscious conflict for all those other years before! (I thank God for anaesthetising my mind from conscious realisation of that combat while our children were growing up, and while my husband was becoming established in his own ministries.) Before our wedding there seemed to be no thought, at any official or unofficial level, of confining me in regard to ministry. Other unmarried women have found severe limitations and even humiliations placed upon them, but I happened to be in a situation where this was not so. No one seemed to think that my ministry equipment was any differently packaged or constituted because I was not male: there was no indication that the Holy Spirit indwelt me in a different way or apportioned His gifts to me according to some sexual criterion. I was allowed to be, without question. I was a source of pride and usefulness to those who knew me, as was shown by my ministry machinery being

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turned full on and at a speed that delighted me. There was a natural recognition that my essence was in service for Christ, that my endowment came direct from Him and that my identity derived directly from His. After David and I were married each of these three was brought into question. Up to a week before our marriage I was giving spiritual leadership to a large group of students, both male and female. From our honeymoon we moved into a student hostel linked with Sydney University. Though my husband was not yet 21 and was younger than some of the students, he had been appointed as Warden: as far as I remember his age had not been asked by the committee concerned, so they may have assumed that he was older, if they knew that I was twenty-three. David was told that his duties included collecting fees, giving an after-dinner talk each weekday evening except Mondays, supervising the students' welfare and organising the kitchen and other staff. The only specific request of me (made a few weeks later) was that I check that no student be given more than one split-spoon of vegetables per meal. It must also have been implied at some stage—we forget now how it was couched—that I would fill in as cook if we had staffing problems and that I would keep an eye on the ordering of provisions and the tidiness of the students' rooms. I realise that in this job of David's, as in all subsequent appointments, the board or person responsible for appointing him was probably reluctant to assume or expect that his wife went with him in the sense of providing an extra worker. I understand this in a general sense, but not specifically in regard to me, as it was either known at the start of each job, or discovered soon after, that I wanted to be in ministry partnership with him. We believed that God had called us into His service together, and I had thought that everyone else would see it that way. As it turned out there has never been a recognition of that partnership in the sense in which we envisaged it. There has, however, been no official reluctance or compunction in accepting a high level of dedicated work involvement from me, so long as the work was in the blue-collar category—not white-collar, and certainly not dog-collar! The standard joke about 'unpaid curates' is remarkably apt, though I see it as a statement about status rather than about remuneration. I watched my mother occupy the role from the time I was two, with a combination of outstanding natural ability, buoyant enthusiasm and a rare quality of graciousness. Fortunately

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for the church—and for her—she was never consciously resentful of this role restriction, but anyone who knew her brother, Bert Arrowsmith, and who knew her would have seen that they were identical ministry machines in every piece of equipment. One of them was turned on at high speed with constant public recognition of its performance value and the other was left officially unattended and barely recognised. Both, in different ways, were exploited. Exploitation by wastage is the more curious of the two—lacking as it does any defensible rationale—and possibly the more culpable in God's view, as we may see. In the fifteen months that we were at the University Hostel David gave 160 talks (with some initial trepidation as he had had opportunity to give only two addresses up to this time), received delegations from students demanding more than one split-spoon of vegetables per meal—and meat of some recognisable quality—and also kept up a full-time teaching program in a city school. I stayed at home, helping the housekeeper unload supplies, confiscating underwear left lying around the students' rooms and filling in on several occasions when a cook failed to turn up. (One cook was in prison on one such occasion but we didn't find this out until later.) I had never cooked for 40 before: in fact I had scarcely ever cooked before, except pork chops and packet chocolate cake each time my sister's future husband came to visit us in our flat, when our parents were in Canberra. To be faced with the task of cooking porridge for that number early in the morning (and while newly pregnant, as attested to by the uncertainty of my inner equilibrium) was a challenge I still remember with horror. Addressing a whole schedule of public meetings held absolutely no comparative qualms for me. I wonder why it was assumed that I would be a proficient housekeeper and cook on that scale? It has been very interesting through the years to see what other assumptions have been made by David's employers of the things I would do and enjoy—or should do and enjoy. Anyway, we joined the local church near the hostel and within a month or so of our arrival found ourselves at its vestry meeting. What happened there occasioned the first conscious recognition of the surprise I must have been registering somewhere subconsciously over the previous weeks: I can still feel it now. My being so surprised at least demonstrates the genuineness of my self-concept at that time in regard to ministry: it also however indicates a degree of naivety that I can scarcely credit today.

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What happened was really quite a small thing and so predictable: the parish council was elected and no one thought to nominate me. David's name was to be one of the first put forward (and withdrawn by him because of the demands of his other responsibilities) and I then expected to hear my own suggested. I was a rectory daughter with teacher training and teaching experience, full-time ministry leadership experience and a cultivated missionary awareness: and I was free, with scarcely anything to occupy me all day. Having been brought up on vestry meetings, I knew that this last qualification mattered a great deal: so many able parishioners just didn't have the time to take on additional responsibility. The rejections I experienced at this meeting occasioned my first conscious feeling of bewilderment and this mind-cast was to last me for eighteen years. The way I saw it then was that God had for some reason stopped wanting to use me, but I could never understand what I had done to cause this. As I see it now He had nothing to do with the restrictions placed upon me except in turning them to good. I should explain here that the main good has been a developing swing of emphasis in me from the gifts to the fruit of the Spirit, from doing to being. It was not my conscious choice but rather something thrust upon me! My supreme self-confidence as a young Christian had been rooted in a calm assurance of having already arrived at the destination of my being. I sincerely believed there was no further distance to cover. The nurturing quality of my upbringing had created within me a self-esteem reservoir of immense proportions: the biblical injunction not to think of oneself more highly than one ought, but to think soberly, induced guilt in many of my friends (who emphasised the first half) but not in me. I believed that God not only loved me but was proud of me. It was not until last year that I understood what J.B. Philips had apparently propounded years before, in 'Your God is too Small', that our view of God derives subjectively from our parents' view of us. (My daughter was preparing a talk for Fellowship and asked me to define 'God'. I did so with aplomb as I not only knew Him well but had made an academic study of Him over recent years. I was therefore taken aback, and not a little incensed, when she smiled at me kindly and explained I had exactly described my own father. We later conducted the same experiment with a group of young people, with the same results. Those with indulgent, nurturing parents usually saw God this way and the others didn't.) Another good that came from my rejection is the related conviction that 'ministry' encompasses a vast range of spiritual activity and is of

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course by no means limited to the taking of leadership and responsibility, nor best represented by it. However those of us who constitute today's Church need to recognise that we still erroneously equate ordination with visible ministry and therefore run the risk of imbuing it with the highest value in spiritual terms. Leadership—a concept also linked with ordination—does matter vitally, of course, which is why its exercise is withheld wherever possible from women. In my own early ministry experience, the official Church of the day certainly chose to put me up front: any gathering of which I was part more often than not assumed that I would be a major contributor. Most of the Christian meetings I attended I did so as the speaker or leader. Then suddenly it stopped. In fact the opposite occurred. From the time of our marriage in January 1963 until May 1981, it was assumed that I would have no leadership contribution or ministry contribution whatever to make to any official Christian gathering of men and women. The only time I remember speaking at a meeting where a man was present he left before the address: he came across during the singing of the preceding hymn and whispered 'Marlene, I'll slip out now so you won't feel uncomfortable'. He was a clergyman of about my own age and had only met David and me in the previous few months. He clearly had no thought of demeaning me: he must really have thought his presence would make me feel inadequate, whereas his absence did so. For eighteen years I attended church services and other such meetings in no capacity that expressed the sense of ministry I felt. (This would have been a minimum of about 2000 meetings.) I had lost my 'I am' in that sense, not through any personal commission of sin but because the Church had relocated me from the light of the Cross to the shadow of the Fall and had done so in the mistaken belief that God's own institution of marriage had decreed the position for me. In the 21 years and ten weeks that David and I have been married I have only conducted one teaching series where men were present and that has been in the past ten weeks at a weekday Bible study. I was too confused for all those years to do anything but keep quiet, and keep occupied in the ministries available to me. I found real fulfilment in discussion and prayer and still today would consider this my primary ministry whether or not others become available to me. Then the Anglican Church unexpectedly asked me to speak at an Australia-wide conference on the topic 'Marriage and Family in God's Purposes'. Not only were men present: they stayed when I spoke! In doing the necessary biblical research I discovered the incontrovertible

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biblical truth that God never intended men and women to exercise dominion over each other. The only actual statement about authority in the whole Creation material is when God gives it to man and woman together; and the authority was not over each other but over the earth. Having now seen this (and all its implications) so clearly myself I find the blindness of many of my friends in this area incredible. God never intended human beings to rule over or subdue each other and He came Himself to tell us so and show us so. Nowhere in Scripture is any person told to dominate any other person. 'Woe unto you . . . for you . . . have omitted the weightier matters—judgment, mercy and faith . . . ye blind guides, which strain at a gnat and swallow a camel/For one is your Master, even Christ; and all ye are brethren . . . neither be ye called masters: for one is your Master/You know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them . . . but it shall not be so among you.' (Matthew 23:23-4,23:8,23:10,20:25-6) At Creation man and woman exercised joint dominion: at the Fall because of sin, the man ruled over the woman: at the Cross the power and penalty of all sin was dealt with. We are accounted restored, just as if we had never sinned. The New Testament proclaims the principle of reinstatement in three relational areas: Jew and Gentile, bond and free, male and female. The Christian Church of New Testament times devoted itself to the challenge of working out the first aspect in everyday life and ministry; subsequent generations worked on the second aspect: and our age is working on the third. Each area has been the cause of pain, conflict and schism in the Church of its time. To give Gentiles, slaves and women the status of Jews, masters and men is an undertaking of breathtaking proportions in any age. In the 1960s the opportunity had come for David and me to go out on the mission field with the British and Foreign Bible Society. In our eleven years serving the society (six in Mauritius, three in New Zealand, then two in Africa for David alone, travelling around 42 African countries) and in both successive parish appointments, no inquiry was ever made of David or of me in regard to my ministry interests, experiences or qualifications. There was a real sense in which I had ceased to exist. The only inquiry of any kind was made six years ago, fifteen years after our marriage, in connection with the appointment to our present parish. At the conclusion of the nominators' preliminary meeting with us one of the church wardens asked 'And what about you Mrs Cohen, are you interested in church work?' There could be no more graphic way to express how much I had lost in those years that such a question could be put to me

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with any seriousness and with no intention of discourtesy or of patronage. I experienced something similar to this soon after our arrival in the same parish, at yet another vestry meeting. Early in the proceedings it was explained that those who participated in discussion or voting needed to have been members there for a period of, I think, three months. Somehow it came up that even the rector's wife didn't qualify here and there was some light-hearted badinage about it. I took no part in that meeting, whereas my husband (who, it will have been deduced, had been in the parish for the same amount of time) not only chaired the meeting—with all that this involved—but selected one of the churchwardens and had the choice of an additional three Church Committee members. The feeling this aroused in me was still one of bewilderment rather than indignity, though I also remember feeling embarrassed on that particular occasion and trying to cover it by joining in the laughter. The situation clearly demonstrates once again that I had no real place, no personal location. My being had somehow been subsumed in my husband's: I had become a mere embellishment to his person and ministry. I think now, in retrospect, that a book of Ayn Rand's brought matters to a head for me. My teenage children had given me a copy of Anthem for Mothers' Day in 1982 and its content meant so much to me that I have never since been able to hear Ayn Rand criticised without leaping to her defence (though a part of my mind cannot defend that defence!). Anthem is the story of a land where the word T had long ago been forbidden and was now forgotten, and the book closes with the glory and pain of its rediscovery. I asked an artist in our parish to adapt the cover of the book for me for use as a visual aid at women's meetings. I was on the circuit—and so grateful to be—as a speaker for an international women's convention group. One of their rules was that no men were to attend the meetings: this resulted from the genuine conviction that a woman should not have authority over a man. I agree with this contention—it being also a biblical injunction—but not with the belief that any such rule is concomitant to it. As I have commented before, I have four ordained Anglican clergymen in my immediate family—an uncle, now deceased, a father, husband and brother-inlaw—and I have heard each of them preach several times. On no occasion has it occurred to me that any of them was speaking on his own authority.

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The adapted cover depicted a woman with arm upraised, exulting in her freedom: but instead of a clenched fist her hand was open and relaxed and instead of a 'mighty Colossus' stance we had her on her knees! I have adopted it as my autobiographical comment, a statement of my own 'I am'. My son has just commented, as I am writing, that Coleridge described the primary imagination as a repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite 'I am'. When Christ died He set me free. His blood cleanses me from all sin, even the sin of Eve, and I will no longer be held to account for it. I am free indeed and will stand fast in my liberty. But I also intend to try to obey the associated injunction that I must not use my liberty as an occasion to serve my own interests. Before I left school my French teacher, who was a committed Christian, gave me a little French New Testament with the biblical inscription The Son of Man came not to be ministered unto but to minister and to give his life a ransom for many'. She must have spotted that I was having trouble over English synonyms for the word 'ministry'. Jesus undoubtedly saw ministry as service, a total self-giving. I wonder why theologians of repute even today still equate 'the ministry' with authority. Theologians are particularly sensitive, I've discovered, when any of the Church Fathers is brought into question in regard to the status of women. Undoubtedly this results from a fear that if their accuracy is undermined in one area it will risk the whole, but this need not be so. Another fear could be that church history may be found to affirm what many women today assert, that Christian men consider Christian women to be ontologically inferior to them, in a spiritual sense as well as any other. As the Church we should face the fact that the following men have made the following statements: Augustine (of Hippo): Women were not made to the image of God; Tertullian: Women are the Devil's gateway; Aquinas: Women are mis-begotten males. A modern Church Father may justifiably be assumed to be summing up the ancients in his declaration 'A Woman is ontologically subordinate to a man'.2 She is unconsciously regarded as somehow unworthy, even as unclean. The uncleanness of women in Judaism has been a subject of fascination for me since reading the Mishnah a few months ago. A Jewish woman delivered of a female child is unclean (and then in process of purification) for double the period of a male child. Samaritan women are considered menstruous from birth. No woman can be a witness in a court of law, and so on. In particular there is an

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emphatic equation of virginity with chastity: loss of virginity entailed loss of personal value. This concept of soiling has been fostered throughout the centuries in religious and secular writings and it is, I think, a core—though unrecognised—concept in our own churches today. Jesus deliberately broke the law in regard to uncleanness. He did so in connection with a Samaritan woman (speaking to her about herself, let alone theology), a menstruous woman and so on: and He deliberately did so in public. He even chose a woman whose lifestyle had been uncleanness to be the first evangelist. His intention is unmistakable. He considers no one unclean. He has made us all clean, every whit. There is a curious dichotomy in some traditions of Christian thinking about womanhood. Virginity is ennobled and so is motherhood, but the inevitable conflict between the two remains a source of some regret. Perhaps the real sequence of that view is this: (1) Virginity symbolises purity, (2) loss of virginity is a taint, as sin is, (3) a woman will be saved from her 'sin' by bearing children (as in 7 Tim. 2:15). Pope Paul VI put it more euphemistically: True women's liberation is in recognition of a woman's vocation to be a mother.' In fact, Jesus sees it very differently—which is predictable: like Father like Son! He refused to allow personal worth to have any residence in status, role, function or performance and He made this particularly clear in regard to women. When He was congratulated on His own mother's performance of her function—'blessed is the womb that bear thee and the breasts which thou hast sucked'—He replied 'No, rather blessed are those who hear the will of God and keep it'. To Martha, who was performing her expected function, He made the point again: 'Mary has chosen the better part which shall not be taken away from her.' Christ's Church today is still taking away some of that better part from women, and doing it in His name. Talents are being buried in the ground in the mistaken belief that such an activity is doing God service. To bury one's own talents is bad enough; to bury other people's talents—and to legislate for the process to be enforced—is alarmingly worse. True women's liberation lies in men's recognition of a woman's freedom to be: true Christian women's liberation lies in Christian men's recognition of a woman's freedom to be, in Christ and in her calling to ministry. Though the Bible nowhere elevates motherhood (or fatherhood) to the highest rung of ministry, Christian principles and common sense would dictate to me that it should for some years

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be a primary ministry for both parents. In fact the Bible seems to hold fathers more than mothers responsible for how children develop. I have never understood the clumsy division of labour whereby missionary parents or others in 'full-time' service can feel called to neglect their own children in order to save other people's children. Of course they don't see it as neglect: they openly operate on the policy 'if I do God's work He will look after my children'. But God's work is our children. Once again there is often a confused ontological distinction whereby children are seen as extensions of the parent and therefore any focus on them can be a form of self-interest. Being a parent is a primary ministry (for those who of their own free will and believing themselves to be in God's will, have taken on the role), but it is not a full-time occupation. As He has given us gifts of ministry, so let us minister, whatever that ministry may be. The Holy Spirit3 dispenses ministry gifts regardless of sexual criteria. When Bishop Dain and two other clergy combined their efforts to launch us into the married state he chose a text of obvious suitability: They two went on.' What actually happened however is that David started and I stopped. As far as the official Church—the whole body of men and women in Christ—was concerned I stopped for eighteen years. Then in two successive years I was asked to be a keynote speaker at National Anglican conferences. The other speakers at those conferences came from established ministry spheres, so after the conferences were over they again went on: and I stopped again. I had no avenue to go on in. In 1983 I applied for a licence to preach in our parish and within the diocese. (I obtained my BD in 1981 and am presently enrolled for an MTh. My program of study over the years has been a lifeline: I became an extra-mural student with London University the year after we arrived in Mauritius.) It was decided not to grant the licence, and one reason given was that 'it would not be in the best interests of David's future ministry'. How can two go on if only one of them is permitted any movement? And why was only one ministry being considered when two people with ministry gifts and experience were involved? What God hath joined was being put asunder by men—men of God—not with any intent to destroy or to hurt, but in the sincere belief that no other option existed. I again stopped. As part of a new policy adopted by our archbishop, I was however licensed to preach one year later in August

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1984, and I now preach once a month as part of our preaching team. It has not been easy to minister with freedom to a congregation that knows my suitability for such a ministry has been in question and that my licensing has been a matter of dispute. * My husband has shared my bewilderment at each stage, because his private validation of my teaching gifts has been in conflict with the fairly consistent invalidation of them by the official Church.4

10 God and pronouns RICHARD FRANKLIN

Christians have nearly always assumed that the appropriate pronoun to use for God should be 'He'. But this has been part of a much wider set of linguistic conventions, which ultimately reflect a whole way of thinking, a way which is often today called a patriarchal ideology. This way of thinking is questioned these days in many contexts for many reasons, and the questioning necessarily has an impact on religion. I am not in this chapter concerned with all the subtle ramifications of this change, but only with how it is reflected in our choice of pronouns. Let us begin with non-religious contexts. There is a problem in referring to people in the ordinary third-person context while remaining gender-neutral; for example in advising school children we might want to say, leaving dots for the difficult part: If anyone wants to be an engineer . . . need(s) to choose maths in ... courses. The traditional way to handle this (for example in Acts of Parliament) is to say that 'he' covers both male and female. So we say: If anyone wants . . . etc., he needs . . . etc. in his courses. Today, however, people increasingly protest, and surely rightly, that this inevitably suggests we are really talking only to the boys. Suppose we try to emphasise both genders by altering 'anyone' to 'any boy or girl'. We can then no longer say: If any boy or girl wants . . . etc. he needs . . . etc. in his courses. 113

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And though it may be tempting for its feminist shock value to use 'she' instead of 'he', this is obviously open to the same objections. Of course there is a grammatically correct way out, namely 'he or she': If any boy or girl wants . . . etc., he or she needs . . . etc. in his or her courses. But this soon becomes intolerably clumsy, so people easily slip back into 'he'. Sometimes we find 's/he'. The trouble here is that we do not know how to pronounce it (except as 'she or he'). Moreover with cases other than the nominative we must presumably use 'him/her' and 'his/her', which again gets intolerably clumsy. Again we may try systematically to use the plural: If boys and girls want. . . etc., they need . . . etc. However, not only can continual plurals get as frustrating as 'he or she's', but the trick will not always work. Suppose we want to go on: However at least the first one of them who later changes . .. mind will be able to switch to languages later then we have the same problem as before. Let us grant, however, that for skilled users of English the situation is at best an irritation, to be avoided by a handful of circumlocutions. The real problem is that most users are not really skilled, and the difficulties encourage slipping back into 'he'. There are at least two reasons for avoiding this. The first is that more and more people are annoyed by what they feel is sexist language. The second, and even more important, one is the unconscious influence on our thought of how we unthinkingly speak. We need to change bad linguistic habits for good ones, so the unconscious influences will go in the right direction. So we need a gender-neutral form of words which will continually, though covertly, remind people that they really mean both sexes. Unfortunately, English just does not have such a form. To those who are skilled enough not merely to use English but to reflect on it, there might seem a good case here for inventing a new set of words, and then trying to get them accepted, just as 'Ms' has been largely accepted. We might try some composite form of 'he or she', such 'heshe'. But how would we pronounce it? 'H'she', 'hee-shee', 'heesh'? Then we would have to cope with the other cases, presumably by such forms as 'himmer', 'hiser', 'himmerself. A better way might be to select the vowel that 'he' and 'she' have in common. (We already

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have the single vowel T as a pronoun.) For 'him or her' and 'his or her' we could capitalise on the fact that the feminine has only one form, so we could again drop the 'h' and write 'er'. The result would be: 'he or she': V (as in 'see'). 'him or her': 'er' (as in 'earnest'). 'his or her': 'er' 'himself or herself: 'erself In this way we introduce only three new words to cover all the uses of 'he', 'she', 'him', 'her', 'his', 'hers', 'himself and 'herself. However I do not think any such proposal would be accepted. In the first place, though English absorbs hundreds of new words every year, they are substantive words, typically tacked on to our existing vocabulary to cover new circumstances. A change to our structural words, part of our basic word stock used in innumerable different contexts, is extremely difficult to establish. These forms would also be unacceptable because they sound like non-standard forms with the 'h-' dropped and have associations of ignorance and lack of education. Second, when such changes do occur, they are rarely the result of discussion by skilled and reflective language users. Rather there is a gradual shift among the whole linguistic community for which no one person is responsible, and a new usage begins to emerge. The skilled, who tend to be purists, often condemn it as improper (slang, neologism, ungrammatical, etc.). If it fills a real need, however, it will become accepted. Then what is legitimate purism in one generation becomes sheer pedantry in the next. For though we are entitled to protest for a while, in the end correct English must be what English speakers say. I think this is happening now. People are exploiting the happy accident that the plural third-person pronoun is gender-neutral. So they increasingly say, If any boy or girl wants . . . etc., they need . . . etc. in their courses. For this we pay a price. The singular verb 'wants' and the plural 'need' now both refer to the same subject, namely 'any boy or girl'. But such protests, I think, are purism on the way to becoming pedantry. So much for non-sexist forms in ordinary contexts. If the tendency I discern succeeds, it will have both advantages and disadvantages for the problem of religious language. The advantage is that the less sexist our ordinary language is, the more the problem of talking about

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God as 'He' will stand out, and so the greater will be the pressure for change; unconscious linguistic habits, that is, will now be pressing for a change instead of against it. The disadvantage, however, is that the previous solution will not work here. Clearly God cannot be They'. So what are we to say? It' is too impersonal; simply to substitute 'She' would again at best have feminist shock value; so we seem stuck with 'He'. Unfortunately there is no one answer to this problem which suits all cases. However one device does stand out as giving maximum relief. The central problem, after all, is with liturgy. For it is above all in worship that difficulties are most deeply felt by those who find traditional language loaded with unacceptable patriarchal overtones. The device is: wherever possible—and it is nearly always possible— turn all third person pronouns into the second person; that is, replace speaking about God by speaking to God. So 'He' is replaced by the gender-neutral 'You'. There is ample precedent for this. Again and again the psalms, for example, switch from second to third person and back, often in the same verse. Here is a random sample, using the translation of the current Anglican Australian Prayer Book: In the hour of fear: I will put my trust in you. In God whose word I praise in God I trust and fear not. (Ps. 56:3-4) I will sing your praises O my strength: for God is my strong tower. (Ps. 59:20) The river of God is full of water: and so providing for the earth you provide grain for men. (Ps. 65:9) Hence when we find passages with third-person pronouns, we can simply convert them to second person, as in the previous examples. Consider: O shout with joy to God all the earth: sing to the honour of his name and give him glory as his praise. Say to God 'how fearful are your works: because of your great might your enemies shall cower before you. (Ps. 66:1-2) Here we can convert 'his' and 'him' into 'your' and 'you', without defeating the purpose of the psalm in any way. In fact in this case it makes the first verse more consistent with the second.

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Such a change is in no way obtrusively 'feminist'. In fact it not only has ample biblical precedent, but seems positively valuable in its own right. For it reinforces the basic truth that our primary attitude to God should be one of prayer, and that talk about God which is divorced from talking to God is always potentially sterile. This device cannot always be applied mechanically. Where it cannot, sometimes other equally simple changes may be effective. Thus people increasingly object to the use of 'man' or 'men' to mean humankind. In the phrase in the Creed, Tor us men and for our salvation', 'men' is best simply omitted rather than being replaced by 'humans'. Again, where 'He' or 'Him' cannot conveniently be replaced by 'You', we can often repeat 'God' rather than use a pronoun. None of this should be mistaken for a solution to the deep, underlying theological issues discussed in this book. For at bottom what is at stake is our whole understanding both of God and of ourselves. These ultimately cannot be divorced. If we are to think of God at all we must use human images, while Christian views about human nature cannot ultimately be divorced from views about God. In our self-understanding, we have been accustomed to think of human characteristics as typically 'male' or 'female'. The 'male' ones would include: taking the initiative; being in control; standing firm against pressure; reasoning rigorously by making sharp distinctions and tracing out their implications. 'Female' ones would include: nurturing; yielding and gentleness; intuitive insight; seeking consensus rather than defining differences. Despite, or perhaps because of, the vagueness and open-endedness of these lists, they play an important role in our thinking about ourselves and each other. Increasingly this is seen by many as inappropriate stereotyping. The new picture of human personality and individuality is different in at least two ways. First, we seek more freedom of choice for individuals in their roles in life. Let husband and wife decide for themselves who will be the main breadwinner; why should not a man have the primary task of bringing up the children while his wife is the main provider? Second, there is a new picture, not only of the legitimate areas of choice, but of the ideal of human personality. Many now admire a more androgynous pattern. Men, they hold, should not be ashamed of showing traditionally 'feminine' gentleness and sensitivity (which can be combined with all necessary firmness). Women should not be ashamed of showing traditionally 'male' decisiveness (which can be combined with all necessary concern for others). For spiritual progress makes possible—in fact it largely consists

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in—achieving a 'fully rounded' personality which successfully harmonises characteristics that from a lower level appear opposites. For Christians, these issues inevitably spread ultimately into their views about God and the Divine Nature, and about the authority of their revelation. The God of the Bible appears, at least initially, as a heavily 'male' figure. Quite apart from the exclusive use of 'He', the terms used (metaphors though they may admittedly be) are also typically 'male' in their imagery: God is Lord, King of Kings, Judge of all men (including presumably women), Shepherd, etc. And how far, many Christians ask, are we at liberty to question this picture? This is no place for a detailed discussion, but a few points may serve to balance the assumptions that have been held so unquestioningly by so many for so long. For new and exciting vistas of biblical interpretation develop, involving both the nature of God and also male-female relationships. Thus, in the Old Testament, though the commonest terms to address God suggest the 'male' emphasis, it is striking also, when we look for it, how much 'female' emphasis there is on God's nurturing, tenderness and compassion. Again, the development of the notion of Wisdom, which is always portrayed as feminine, seems to approach startlingly close to the Logos, the second person of the Trinity, by whom all things were made.1 As for male-female relationships, the role of great female leaders such as Deborah may be seen as indications of how God has always broken through the patriarchal stereotypes of society to show that leadership as well as devotion can be irrespective of sex. In the New Testament, much discussion is needed of why Jesus chose 'Father' as his central term for presenting his picture of God to his contemporaries. However clearly it is not meant to give a specifically 'male' picture of God. For, as only one example, when Luke tells the parable of the shepherd searching for the lost sheep, where the shepherd has always been seen as an image of God, he immediately follows it by that of the woman searching for the lost coin, where equally clearly the woman represents God (Luke 15:3-10). As for male-female relationships, not only does Jesus, in strong contrast to his age, repeatedly treat women on a complete spiritual equality with men, but there is the great declaration in Galations 3:28, quoted by several writers in this book, that in Christ there is no difference between Jew and Gentile, slave and free man, or man and woman. What we should do about these questions is a further matter, where much thought—and experiment—is needed. However, as a simple and

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immediate step, we could look for undeniably biblical notions which reflect the 'female' rather than the 'male' aspects of God. One obvious one would be God as Nurturer; no one could deny the total orthodoxy of the notion that God nurtures the world and us. When, therefore, we use the commonest of all terms for God, namely 'Lord', we could balance this clearly 'male' notion by regularly addressing God as 'Lord and Nurturer'. Beyond this simple proposal lie others which would certainly disturb many Christians as much as they would help others. A central one is whether we are prepared to balance Jesus' chosen metaphor of 'Father' with the other aspect of parenting, and so address God as our Father and Mother. Such linguistic changes are not trivial, but reach to the heart of our understanding of the divine nature. It is for individual Christians to judge whether and how far they feel called by the Spirit to introduce such challenging changes. However the point of my present suggestion is just that we can separate those linguistic changes which are theologically contentious from those that are not, and we can implement the latter immediately. Specifically, we can avoid using 'He' of God, chiefly by changing to the second person, and we can balance the clearly 'male' orthodox metaphors such as 'Lord', by joining to them unquestionably orthodox 'female' ones such as 'Nurturer'. These simple proposals could, first, bring some immediate relief to those who find much current worship painful—sometimes painful enough to drive them away from the Church altogether. Second, there is the importance of sheer linguistic habit. It would be something if we could create linguistic habits in worship which left open, rather than begged, the central questions which Christians must eventually decide.

11 Affirmative action in the Uniting Church 1977-83 MARIE TULIP

It is a surprising thing that the Church, often regarded as the last bastion of male domination, should have been one of the first institutions in Australia to undertake what would now be called an affirmative action program, yet this happened in the Uniting Church. And it has been highly successful. Women now make up at least a third of the membership of nearly all committees and councils of the parish and congregation, and a third of the lay membership of presbyteries, synods and the Assembly, and their committees. This increased participation of women has built up women's self-confidence, changed men's attitudes, and transformed the style of many meetings. Property and finance committees, and specialised committees of the assembly and synods, are slower to change. Elders' councils on the other hand tend to have more than the required one-third women. The increase in the number of women on decision-making bodies does not of itself change the power relation between women and men, and the Church is clearly still controlled by men in many areas of its life. However, the fact that women are now beginning to transform the life of councils and committees, and also to enter the ordained ministry in greater numbers, demonstrates, to themselves and others, that religious authority is no longer a male perserve. The slight shift in power in the Uniting Church in Australia needs of course to be seen as part of a wider social movement in which women have been challenging male domination in many areas of Church and society both here and in other countries. It is a shift from almost total male domination of the structures and authority patterns of the Church toward structures and styles that include women and 120

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reflect women's experience. The change has taken place both symbolically and also in hundreds of specific local situations all round Australia. It is, I believe, a movement of the spirit, breaking entrenched patterns, opening up the Church to fresh options, bringing new life. We now know how common it is for women to be written out of history, and already claims are being made that men deliberately adopted these changes in the Uniting Church out of the goodness of their hearts. One of the aims of this chapter is to set the record straight.

The historical context At its Inaugural Assembly in June 1977 the Uniting Church in Australia took the historic step of adopting in its constitution and regulations clauses which sought to ensure the significant representation of women in all its decision-making bodies. It was a brave and surprising step for a church to take, the only one to have done so in this country where churches are still widely regarded as reflecting male supremacy. This chapter seeks to tell the story of this struggle for change, to assess what it achieved, and to explore future prospects. As one of those involved in the events that led up to the constitution, I write as an interested participant, not a detached observer. I have of course tried to canvass as wide a range as possible of opinions and experience of members of the Uniting Church on these issues. The timing is significant. When the Uniting Church was inaugurated, the regulations concerning women were to remain in force for six years, that is until June 1983. As that period has now come to an end I believe it is important for an account of what has happened to be written while it is fresh in people's memories. Discussions directed towards church union have taken place among various churches in Australia since early this century. By 1971 three churches, the Congregational Union of Australia, the Methodist Church of Australasia, and the Presbyterian Church of Australia, had progressed far enough to have drawn up a Basis of Union. By 1974 they were in the final stages of drawing up a constitution and regulations for the new church they were to become, to be called the Uniting Church in Australia. The body responsible for drafting the constitution and regulations had 21 members and was called the Joint

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Constitution Commission. All its members were male, and came from the upper reaches of the legal and administrative hierarchies of the three churches. Another body, the Joint Constitution Council, had 75 members representing women and men from each of the three churches in all the States of Australia. Being larger and more widely representative of the different aspects and groupings of church life, the council was much easier for the people in the congregations to relate to and be in touch with. It was this larger body, the Joint Constitution Council, that was responsible for deciding policy. The smaller Joint Constitution Commission expressed that policy in proper form in the constitution and regulations and in other ways. By the end of 1974 the Joint Constitution Commission had done a lot of groundwork and was ready fpr the larger Joint Constitution Council to come together and express its mind on many constitutional matters that would determine what form the new Uniting Church would take. The first meeting of the Joint Constitution Council was to be on 1 November 1974. Many women were aware of the limited role and status of women in the three churches, and wanted to make sure that the structures of the new Uniting Church would enable women as well as men to participate fully. There was a sense of hope and urgency, of an opportunity for action of the kind that comes only rarely. We wanted the participation of women in the Uniting Church to be an item on the agenda of the Joint Constitution Council at this first meeting on 1 November 1974. The previous year, in 1973, women from all the major denominations had come together to form the Commission on the Status of Women of the Australian Council of Churches (NSW), and a great deal of the pressure for change that was coming from women in the church was brought to a focus in this body. A packet of writings on feminist theology was published and read with widespread enthusiasm. A seminar series on women was held in the city. Consciousness-raising groups were formed, a resource collection was begun, and a national conference was held on Women's Liberation and the Church. In mid-1974 the commission conducted an Enquiry into the Status of Women in the Church, the central findings of which were pinpointed by Sabine Willis, its director, in her introduction when she observed: 'Despite women's considerable physical presence in the Church their representation on decision-making bodies is miniscule. When funds are allocated, constitutions changed, theology discussed, the women are largely absent. In short, there is an enormous

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imbalance in the numbers of men and women serving on decisionmaking bodies in most churches, and many capable women deeply regret this.'1 Many women who were seeking changes within these church structures hoped for a new church and new possibilities with the formation of the Uniting Church.

Meeting of Uniting Church Women, 3 August 1974 It was in this atmosphere of hope that the Commission on the Status of Women of the ACC called a meeting of Uniting Church women on 3 August 1974 in the Epping Congregational Church Hall to discuss the participation of women in the Uniting Church. The aim was to clarify and express women's views while the constitution was being drafted so that the structures of the new church could reflect the renewed hopes of women for full participation. Those invited were the State secretaries of the Congregational Women's Union, the Methodist Women's Federation, and the Presbyterian Women's Association; the fifteen members of the Joint Women's Committee made up of representatives from the women's organisations of the three denominations; the members of the ACC Commission on the Status of Women; and some other interested individual members of the three churches. All were asked to pass the invitation on to any other interested women. Thirty-five women came to the meeting, including members of all the above organisations. Two women were to speak, and then draft proposals for a submission on the place of women in the Uniting Church were to be discussed. There was an air of excitement and anticipation, and of some risk. Women who were leaders within the church structures and women who were interested in women's liberation and the Church were meeting for the first time and finding common cause. Betty Marshall spoke about her visions for a church in which 'the time of isolation of women within the organisation is ended, and the time of participation has begun', and she went on to say: The Constitution Commission of the Uniting Church has been appointed and has already written a preliminary document—while we are assured that women have been taken into account there is no woman on this Commission'. Marjorie Spence spoke of her experience as the convenor of a committee of the NSW General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, a male-dominated body in which in 1973 out of a total of 538 members, only eight were women. By a vote of the

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assembly Marjorie was allowed to present the report of her committee, but only after several members had objected and one called her an 'outsider'. She said: To say that a Communicant member of the Church was an outsider was to express a truth for that is just how I felt and how the structure of the Church intended me to f e e l . . . I felt betrayed by a hard master—the Church. It requires from its servants hours and hours of voluntary, sacrificial time and effort and allows them to carry the responsibilities involved without providing for their rights.

The submission The meeting then turned its attention to the draft proposals for a submission on the place of women in the Uniting Church. After a great deal of discussion agreement was reached on the recommendations of the submission and it was unanimously adopted. It consisted of a preamble arguing that while there were virtually no biblical, theological or legal barriers to the full participation of women in the life and ministry of the Church, there were very real barriers in the traditions and structures of the Church. It went on to say that it is not enough to remove discriminatory laws and procedures. Tor the true integration of women into the total ministry of the church, positive steps will need to be taken to overcome the habits and stereotypes of centuries.' The submission asked that the following eleven recommendations be adopted by the Uniting Church and that regulations be worked out to ensure they become part of the church's practice: 1 That at least 60 per cent of the members of presbyteries, synods, and the Assembly be lay people, and that all age groups be represented. 2 That at least 50 per cent of the lay members of parish councils, presbyteries, synods, and the Assembly be women, so that these bodies may be truly representative of the church membership. 3 That the committees set up by these bodies include at least 30 per cent women and that women be given equal opportunities in leadership.

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4 That administrative and staff positions at all levels be open to women and men, and special efforts made to recruit women in order to overcome the present imbalance. 5 That positive steps be taken to actively seek out and encourage women to become candidates for the ordained ministry. 6 That the participation of women in the theological processes of the Church be actively encouraged at all levels, including teaching in theological colleges. 7 That care be taken to use all-inclusive language (i.e. the use of such terms as 'men and women', people, persons) on all occasions and in all documents, including liturgies, rituals, and orders of service. 8 That the Church take positive steps, with the necessary support staff, to prepare and encourage the women of the Uniting Church for involvement in the life of the Church and of society and for the recognition and development of their potential as people. 9 That times of meetings be arranged so that full lay participation is possible. 10 That lay participation in all aspects of the Church's life, including worship, pastoral care, education programs, developing church policy, and general church administration, be encouraged so that full use is made of all lay resources. 11 That a limitation on the consecutive years of service of a member of any Assembly committee be seriously considered in an effort to widen opportunities for participation and for continuing renewal of the decision-making areas of the Church. The meeting requested the Commission on the Status of Women to convey the submission to the members of the Joint Constitution Commission and to its executive officer, asking him that they also be placed before the Joint Constitution Council. The meeting also asked that the submission be incorporated in the newsletter Countdown and be publicised in church papers, and that representatives of the women be able to attend the next meeting of the Joint Constitution Commission to present the submission in person.

Responses to the submission At the end of the women's meeting there was a great feeling of achievement and, though many would not have used the word, of

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sisterhood. We felt the submission was important and well thought out, and it was supported by many of the most highly respected women in the three churches. However, while we did not expect the male office-bearers and church representatives to agree with everything in it, we were quite unprepared for the deep resistance we were to encounter. Where we had hoped for the widest possible dissemination and discussion of our proposals, we found when the Uniting Church Office replied to us that they were unwilling to circulate our proposals or to give them any publicity or even to give us the names of members of the Joint Constitution Council to whom we had hoped they would be sent. Nor were they willing to allow our three representatives to attend a Joint Constitution Commission meeting to talk to members in person. Women were evidently perceived as posing a greater threat to male power and control than we had imagined. The Joint Constitution Commission met on 10 September 1974 and decided that they would bring to the attention of the Joint Constitution Council the matters raised in the submission, and send copies of it to the Australian presidents of the women's organisations of the three churches. We felt, however, that it was essential for members of the Joint Constitution Council to have a chance to actually read the submission and also for some of the men who were members either of the commission or the council to meet some of us so that we could talk through the issues involved. Without an actual meeting we felt there was no chance of our proposals being taken seriously. We therefore decided that as the Uniting Church Office would not accede to our requests we would ourselves send the submission to Joint Constitution Council members, and invite them to a meeting to discuss the issues with the women making the submission. We had to use our informal networks to find out who these members were in each state and their addresses.

Meeting of some members of Joint Constitution Council with Uniting Church women, 18 October 1974 The meeting was on 18 October 1974 in the Chatswood Methodist Church Hall. Twenty-one of the 35 women who made the submission attended, and seven of the 75 members of the Joint Constitution Council, two of whom were women who had signed the submission. Opinions and feelings about our recommendations were thoroughly aired and discussed, and we got to know each other fairly well. There

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was not then, and had never been, any disagreement about the aims of women participating fully in the life and ministry of the Church (as already laid down in the Basis of Union, paragraphs 13, 14, 15), or about general principles that special efforts should be made to include women in staff positions, in the ordained ministry, in theological study and teaching, in the language of the Church and all other aspects of the Church's life. However, as soon as we suggested how these principles might be incorporated in the constitution and regulations of the Church there was a complete block. We felt we were getting precisely nowhere with our submission. It was a classic case of male resistance and stalling. Our arguments for a set proportion of women were not answered with reason but with comments as to their being 'impractical' or 'unnecessary' or 'women would be taking the places of the "best people"' and so on. The attitude of the men, unable or unwilling to take us seriously or to enter into real discussion, made us angry and sad. And they were the men who had been sympathetic enough to attend. Towards the end of the evening the constant stalling of the men eventually provoked the women to anger and brought the meeting to a crisis. I think that, together with the number of committed women there and our obvious seriousness, it was this strong expression of our anger that made this meeting a turning point in the whole struggle. It called the men's bluff, and I believe they realised they had to take responsibility for either including women by a percentage system, or excluding them with unsupported and therefore empty words of goodwill. It also galvanised the women into a deeper commitment to the struggle. All the women I spoke to afterwards said they came away from the meeting more convinced of the need for percentages than ever. To give some idea of what we were arguing and of how stirred we were, it seems worth quoting here from a statement I wrote as a response to that meeting. It was circulated to the members of the Joint Constitution Council as a further preparation for their November meeting when they would be coming together for the first time to decide matters of policy for the Uniting Church. We wanted their voting to be based on as full as possible an understanding of what we were asking. The situation as we saw it was as follows: At present there are very few ordained women in the three churches in Australia. In N.S.W. in 1973 the Congregational Assembly had a fair proportion of women but the Presbyterian Assembly had 8 women and over

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530 men, and the Methodist Conference had 33 women and 520 men. What is going to happen in the Uniting Church, particularly if members of councils are chosen on the basis of one minister and one lay person per parish/ group of parishes/group of presbyteries, etc.? We are worried that the one lay person will almost always be a man. It is then even more vital to guarantee that a certain proportion be women. It is sometimes asked why more women do not offer as candidates for the ministry. The ordained ministry at the moment looks for all the world like a male club, and unless the church can give some sign of its good faith to women, it is not surprising that women do not come forward. Including a percentage of women in the church councils would be a credible sign that women's experience and gifts are valued in the church community as much as men's. After the meeting, a Presbyterian woman said, 'As far as the church is concerned I'm just hanging on till 1976, hoping the Uniting Church will be different'. Another Presbyterian: 'My Church has never asked me to do anything'. A Congregational woman: 1 got so mad hearing all those women begging the men to allow them to be part of the Uniting Church. We have to struggle to be accepted as baptised members of the church'. A Methodist: I'm more convinced of the need for percentages than ever!' Given this context, we argued strongly for our views, believing they had special relevance for the Uniting Church and its Basis of Union: We believe the only way to ensure full participation of men and women in the Uniting Church is by having set proportions of men and women on the various councils. The questions we are putting to the Commission and Council still haven't been answered. It is said that a system of percentages would be too rigid and confining. But a system of percentages is accepted to guarantee certain proportions of lay and clergy and the same sort of system could be used to ensure participation of women. It is felt that the change towards fair representation of women will come about naturally, without percentages being stipulated. This has not been the experience of any group that has tried to break the middle-aged male clergy monopoly on church government. For example the battle for equal lay representation was won in the Reformed

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Churches at the time of the Reformation, and hundreds of years later the proportion of lay persons still has to be constitutionally guaranteed. For years the Methodist Church has been talking about equality between men and women but the representation of women in church government has remained at the level of tokenism. In 1973 the N.S.W. Methodist Conference passed a resolution one morning that women should be given higher representation on committees including the Standing Committee. On the same day 6 outstanding women were nominated but only the previous 3 members were elected. Presbyterians have more recently overcome the legal barrier to ordination of women as elders and ministers and believe there will be a gradual increase in participation of women. If they believe this in good faith why is there such strong opposition to the proportion of women being indicated in the Constitution? We feel it should be there as a safeguard. The Basis of Union clearly states that the Uniting Church will provide for the exercise by men and women of the gifts God bestows upon them. How is the Constitution to do this except by setting out percentages?

Meeting of Joint Constitution Council, 1 November 1974 The Joint Constitution Council held its first meeting at Naamaroo on 1 November 1974, with many important matters to be discussed and decided. Friends of the women's submission, women and men, negotiated it through the difficult rapids of counter-argument, meeting tactics and a full agenda. The vote when it came was in favour. Reporting later on the many decisions of the Council, the Sydney Morning Herald (5 December 1974) chose to headline the women's issue, 'Quota for Women in Uniting Church', as also did the New Spectator (20 November 1974). Both papers gave good reports of the decisions, the SMH reporting as follows: Women will constitute at least one-third of the lay representation of councils and committees in the proposed Uniting Church in Australia. This has been recommended by the Church's constitutional council, despite misgivings that to 'talk in figures' was contrary to the spirit of Christianity.

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The force of the feminine The one-third principle will apply for six years. It is hoped that after that time selection of women will require no compulsion.

But old attitudes die hard. The New Spectator quoted a Methodist male delegate who commented, 'We will have to watch in cases where women are not available to fill the suggested quota. Otherwise we might have Grandma coming down to presbytery or synod meetings just because Grandpa happened to be elected. We don't want to encourage the idea of wives accompanying their husbands'. The actual decisions as reported in the minutes were as follows: Submission re Status of Women It was resolved: 1 That the Council expresses its concurrence with the principles underlying recommendations 4 to 11 in the Submission, and points out that the first part of No. 4 is already provided in the proposed Constitution and Regulations, but that the remainder of what is sought in that and the following recommendations are administrative and policy matters requiring decision and implementation by the councils of the Uniting Church when constituted. 2 That the Joint Constitution Commission be asked either by amending the necessary regulations so as to require and permit, or by some other means seek to ensure, that for the first six years of the Church's life at least one third of the lay members of each Council be women. 3 That this Council recognising the principle embodied in the Basis of Union that women should be given equal opportunities with men to exercise the gifts which God bestows upon them, urges the Joint Constitution Commission to ensure that provision is made by every possible means to facilitate the full participation of women in every aspect of the life of the Uniting Church. The women who made the submission were delighted. We regarded the acceptance of a set proportion of women as a significant victory on the way towards full equality of women and men in the Uniting Church. But we were also disappointed. Our submission had recommended that at least 60 per cent of the members of councils be lay people, and

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at least 50 per cent of the lay members be women. In fact the constitution requires that only 50 per cent be lay, and that of this 50 per cent one-third should be women. So in fact, recognising that over 95 per cent of the clerical members are men, the required proportion of women is one-sixth of the total, or 16 per cent, whereas our submission sought 30 per cent—a very significant reduction. The second major qualification was the addition of the six-year time limit. The third qualification is apparent in the detailed wording of the requirements in the regulations for membership of the congregation councils and committees, parish councils, presbyteries, synods and the Assembly, for each of which the words 'if practicable' or some similar phrase appear. In addition, the Council declined to make any specific provisions relating to recommendations 4-11 of the submission. So it was far from a clear victory. Yet we understood only too well the Church's resistance to change, particularly on this issue of relations between the sexes which affects everyone so intimately and so deeply. After 2000 years of male domination in the Church, with past attitudes still so deeply entrenched, we were delighted with what we saw as a step forward, a change in the pattern, an opportunity for growth. The question still to be answered was, were the proposals so watered down as to be ineffectual? Were the qualifications so serious as to have made the whole thing a token gesture? Were we back where we started, with the real power structures of the Church, the decisionmaking bodies at all levels, still effectively in the hands of men?

How the regulations worked out The six years for which the regulations concerning women were to be in force are now over. It is disappointing that some assessment was not made by the Church before the expiry date so that an informed debate could have been engaged in and a decision made on whether the regulations should continue or not. When I undertook this study the rather strange silence had been broken only by a NSW minister quite openly rejoicing that the regulations would have a limited life. A survey was undertaken a few months later by women in Victoria which showed that 79 per cent of the laity of the Uniting Church, but only 44 per cent of the clergy, felt the regulations should continue. In March 1983 the Commission on the Status of Women of the Australian Council of Churches (NSW) agreed to sponsor the present

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study. Leaflets were circulated widely and large advertisements were placed in all the state newspapers of the Uniting Church. The response was immediate, enthusiastic and gratifying. Letters, some short, many long and detailed, came from all states and territories except Tasmania, and express a wide range of experience and opinion. Of over 60 replies, 78 per cent are from women, 22 per cent from men. Considering the passions and conflicts so easily aroused by this subject, even more perhaps in the Church than in society generally, I was delighted that so many were ready to grasp the nettle. The results are not necessarily representative of the membership of the Uniting Church, but they are broadly based enough for assessment to be made of what the legislation achieved. The general pattern that emerges is that at all levels of church government and in most geographical areas the regulations were accepted and complied with. Sometimes it was with enthusiasm, sometimes with reluctance, but with few exceptions a serious effort was made to include women in the proportions set down. Most correspondents saw the effect on the Church as a large and worthwhile increase in the participation of women. At first many women were too shy or self-deprecating to come forward, and many men and some women showed various degrees of opposition, but as these initial obstacles were overcome, it 'became part of the thinking to include women'.2 Later, after four or five years, the numbers of women started to slip again. There is a widespread feeling that the regulations achieved their aim, and a sense among many contributors that the balance between women and men on councils and committees is now as it should be. Many others however have a sense of unease that although women's participation has greatly increased, the underlying attitudes and structures of male domination remain.

Patterns of response There are three main patterns of response expressed in the letters, although there is considerable overlapping. A small group, fewer than 10 per cent, are opposed to the regulations or think they made no difference; a second much larger group thinks the regulations brought about important changes and that the present situation is broadly satisfactory; a third group, about the same number as the second group, also thinks the changes have been important and beneficial but considers they should go further.

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The main objections to the regulations, as reflected in the first group, are that they somehow interfere with God's will, that the people in 'top' positions should be men, that regulations might lead to people who are not the 'right people' being on committees. However, very few of the correspondents made these objections, and often they supported the regulations in other ways in their letters, and had been quite willing for women to participate at all levels of church government. The large second group, representing, one feels, a large body of opinion in the Church, sees the regulations as having brought about a significant change for the better. Most problems have already been sorted out. Although there is a vague sense of threat to men, and fears that some may leave, most men tolerantly accept, and sometimes even welcome, the increased participation of women. Women themselves are in general enthusiastic about it and are benefiting from it. Very little change in meeting style or procedure was noticed or expected by this group, but there was a general feeling that the increased contribution of women had enriched the whole Church. Now that the old cycle has been broken and a new pattern of participation established, many people in this group appear to consider the regulations no longer necessary. The third group also think that the legislation has brought about significant and desirable change but in contrast to the second group they think that the change is not deep enough or securely established. Where the second group look more to past changes and what has already been achieved, the third group look with a more critical eye at the present and at possibilities for the future. Where the second group are glad for women to have a bigger slice of the cake, the third group want a different cake. They do not think it is enough for women to take part in the Church on the old terms. To them, full participation of women requires that the patriarchal structures of male domination and female subordination be transformed into a new relationship of equals.

Reflections on the present situation A minister, recognising that more women are on committees, asks what has this achieved. In many instances,' she says, 'women are not able to be assertive enough to make any input, either to a cognitive discussion or in changing the emphasis of a meeting.' In other words, women are present at meetings but are not powerful enough to

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challenge the male style, supported as it still is by superior numbers and the weight of tradition. It is not that women are in some way weak or incapable, or still in need of some sort of extra education or experience; rather it is that the governing bodies of the Church are still controlled by men. The figures of the General Assemblies of the Uniting Church since union support this view of the present position. At the First (Inaugural) Assembly in June 1977, women were 31 per cent of the lay members and 17.5 per cent of the total (nearly all the clergy being men); at the Second Assembly in 1979 the percentages were 40 per cent and 21 per cent, and at the Third Assembly in 1982, 41 per cent and 19.6 per cent respectively. That means that the regulations were fully complied with (in fact there were slightly more women than the required 33 per cent of lay members) and yet we still have a situation where for every one woman at the Assembly there were four men. And in 1982 all the officers of the Assembly, and all the chairpersons and secretaries of Assembly commissions, councils and committees except one were men. Looked at in this way I believe we can still say that the legislation has been a success, but it is important to see what has been achieved and what has not. Certainly the old pattern has been broken and more women are on decision-making bodies, and this has found ready acceptance in the Church. But it does not mean that the Uniting Church has stopped being a male-dominated institution or that women and men now participate equally. For those interested in real sharing of power and responsibility, the legislation has been a beginning, but there is still a long way to go. There is, I believe, a certain danger in the view of many church members that everything is now all right and the regulations can be dropped. They underestimate, I believe, the strength and momentum of male power in the Church. This is not necessarily to blame men, but to say that the system will not change unless deliberate steps for change are taken, and men have a stake in this, just as women do. Extending the term of the regulations may be only one of the possible appropriate ways forward, but unless the Church takes some action in the light of the present situation, the slide backwards which some women have already identified may accelerate. What is the present situation? Certainly it is important not to deny the gains made (and referred to earlier). But it is also important to look at the whole picture. Let us look first at where women still encounter obstacles to full participation and then at where breakthroughs have been made.

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Undergirding the continuing numerical superiority of men on many councils and committees (for example the Assembly, as described above), there is still the whole weight of the patriarchal tradition and symbol structure of the Church. Although some genuine attempts at change are being made, most references to God are heavily male, language in church documents, liturgies and hymns is strongly sexist, authority figures (for example, clergy) are nearly all male, theology is still male-centred, and so on. All these things are changing, but little headway has been made so far, and each change requires a lot of work and energy from women. Several people referred to the way tradition expresses itself in male networks. Established over many years, they tend to be selfperpetuating and are a problem when it comes to nominating women. Highly qualified and experienced women expressed disappointment that they were not asked to do anything related to their special qualifications and skills, though they were asked by the Church to do other traditionally feminine things. Meetings are still set up in a way which excludes some women and makes it difficult for others to attend. Many women continue to be alienated by the rational, competitive meeting style, in which men monopolise the talking and put procedure over content and the interests of people, while other women and men are more hopeful as they identify ways in which women's style is gradually, if slowly, transforming what they see as the dry bones of male meeting procedure. The hurt involved for women who go on challenging old patterns is well expressed in the following letter: I've been reflecting on how I feel in my own parish situation. Initially we tried hard to ensure that approximately one third of the members of the parish council were women, although it was achieved only by appointing a greater number of women from one of the two congregations making up the parish. Five years later when an executive of the parish council was appointed, its six members were all men. When I raised this at a meeting of our congregation earlier this year and sought to move that the congregational meeting request the parish council to do something about it, I was quite unprepared for the hostility which my motion engendered in the meeting. I was told that such an action would be divisive within the parish council, that it had only happened because all of the officers of the parish council were men (as though that explanation was good enough). As an aside one person

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The force of the feminine suggested we didn't have to worry any more about what the regulations said about having one third women as the time in which that was to take effect had now expired! I can still recall how awful I felt in that meeting when my motion was carried by one vote and a subsequent motion, to which I agreed, was passed that no action be taken on the result. This experience at a local level and others have made me feel alienated from some members of the congregation that I have known for a long time and at the moment I am feeling very ambivalent about becoming involved in the institutional church.

The continuing strong influence of the masculine and feminine roles underlies many of the present hurtful attitudes: There is still discrimination against women mainly due to attitudes and expectations which are slow to change and difficult to alter. Women are still expected to act like women; to be outspoken is laudable and "prophetic" in a man, "aggressive" in a woman. Business matters are still the province of men, who are deferred to in most councils of the church.' One woman wrote of her desperation at being discriminated against in her work and then the relief of a particular accepting community, grateful for the reforms of the women's movement. She said that 'aggressive' women make her feel 'shivery and squirmy', though at the same time without realising it she was appreciating the benefits they had brought about. Many women feel excluded from the church community because they are outside the traditional 'ideal family' pattern. One woman who was divorced said the church women expressed sympathy but no real understanding. Another said the sexist attitudes of the church men prevent the Church from reaching the families (for example single-parent families) who need it in her area. Several people said that women feel confident locally, for example at congregational and parish level, but 'insecure outside this area'. 'At Presbytery many women are regular in attendance but with little to say.' 'Few women speak at Synod although amongst the lay delegates women would predominate.' It seems that where women are strong enough to influence meeting style, that is, locally, they quickly gain confidence and contribute well. Where men predominate, at synod and the Assembly and above all on the specialised committees and boards, men keep control and women keep quiet—or refuse to be nominated. There is a tendency to blame or exhort women, but it might be more appropriate to change the structures and style so that

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women feel comfortable and secure enough to participate. As one women said, 'so many women have developed the confidence once they have the opportunity'. Only two men mentioned their own effort to change roles. One sees himself as a pioneer when he picks up a teatowel at church functions—and let no one underestimate the courage needed to break role-patterns. The other, who has been 'attempting to encourage all to use inclusive language' says that 'by some men I am seen as a betrayer of my sex!' Well, if breaking sexist language and other structures of domination is seen as a betrayal, perhaps it is time a few more men became traitors! It is clear that the battles are still there to be fought. But I want now to turn to the signs of hope, the breakthroughs. And I believe that women have indeed begun to make a difference. The fact that women are present on the committees and councils means that the committees are already different, and there have been a great many comments on changes towards a more humane, personal, social, caring style, with less competition, more consensus, and the power to see that 'ideas have legs'. The rate of change is too slow for some women, too demanding of the energies of others, and some fear the slide is now backwards. But women have staked their claim, and change has become visible. In the second place, women are beginning to overcome their fear of power, bred in us since Eve was framed, and to give up the manipulative way of using power through someone else. As women come out from behind the scenes to exercise power directly on committees and as officers of those bodies, they are beginning to create role models for younger women, as also are the growing but still small numbers of women ministers. I believe it is true that authority is still tied to maleness in the Uniting Church, and that this will continue to be the case while most ministers are men. However, if 35 per cent of students at the United Theological College are now women it is clear that, at this deep level of authority patterns, change has begun to happen. It represents a shift in power at the symbolic level in the Uniting Church. The same shift seems to be happening in relation to women elders, and it is interesting to speculate on why women are choosing the elder role. It uses women's traditional gifts of nurturing and caring, but in combining them with an avenue for participating more creatively in worship, and also with the oversight of the spiritual life of the congregation, it links and integrates them with the symbolic and the

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decision-making powers of the Church. So it becomes for women the free choice of a high and responsible avenue of service, rather than their being slotted into the traditional doormat role. A second reason may be that it gives women a way of expressing their gifts more directly than the slow, difficult, equally valuable role of serving on and transforming committees. The picture that emerges, especially from the third group of letters, is of a church very ready to welcome women onto committees and councils, and to accept in general the many obvious changes and benefits this has brought. At a deeper level the Church is still maledominated and -controlled. Most men are happy with the status quo and seek to perpetuate the structures and styles that suit them. Almost all initiative for change in this area comes from women and is accepted or met with passive or covert resistance from men. Often this resistance may be unintentional or even unperceived, simply the momentum of the powers that be. The changes have been welcomed by women and in some cases have been deep and significant enough for women to become aware of their own relation to power in a new way, and to have a transforming effect. Some women are sad, disappointed or angry at the Church's reluctance to give up its attachment to the old roles, or are simply fatigued from carrying the torch for so long, and are choosing to move out rather than go on with a fruitless struggle.

Future prospects Looking back, we can recognise that several factors were important in the success of the regulations on women. First, the enormous initial impetus from women and the continuing collective energy of women; second, that the regulations were based on important beliefs of the church and clauses in the Basis of Union; third, that the proposals became part of the formal legislation of the Church and were then supported by male leaders; fourth, that society was also moving in a similar direction at the time; and fifth, that a new structure was coming into being, so people were prepared to try a new way of balancing the sexes at the same time. Now, six years later, the Uniting Church has begun to settle down and people have come to terms with the regulations in various ways as we have seen. There is still an apparent reluctance to see the relation between the sexes as a power relation. 'Harmony' seems more

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important than further struggle, so the gains made by great effort are accepted, redefined (for example as inevitable or natural), and then everything is seen as having reached a satisfactory balance. Conflict is avoided rather than faced and worked through. But we have seen that there remains a lot of discrimination and dissatisfaction in the Church. The advances are real, but limited and precarious. The Church has a choice to go forward or to slide back. The weight of patriarchal tradition is strong and the processes of change take a lot of work, energy and good will. To press on now requires another major effort. After its pioneering venture one can only hope the Uniting Church will take up the issue again and carry it forward. Several correspondents talked of possible ways ahead, including directories of women, and 'some kind of support system for women who feel that they are being ignored or demeaned in the church'. Some argue against keeping the regulations, others, like this clergyman, argue for them: 'Because it remains possible for men to exclude women and rationalise their actions, there needs to be a re-affirmation of the policy and an extension of its terms. Otherwise there will be some return towards the previous situation. A sufficient sanction could be to require each committee, council, board etc. to report to its Presbytery or Synod on the proportion of women in its membership.' One woman believes 'the world is far ahead of the church in providing and accepting a changed role for women in social decision-making'; another asks, 'I wonder whether the experiences of secular organisations in affirmative action programmes have some relevance for the Church'. Taking an opposite tack, an old campaigner and very active elder suggests a program of non-cooperation: 'I feel that further energy expended in ensuring that the Regulations remain would not be worth the time involved—having established a pattern I think it will continue as it has, which hasn't been wholly satisfactory. We could concentrate on encouraging women to bring about change through a different, non-competitive mode of operation. Refusal to cooperate and withdrawing support when decisions are made without proper consultation with women or where we are not adequately represented would be more effective than having a regulation which can be ignored. One parish in this presbytery has four ordained ministers and four lay representatives attending presbytery meetings and not a woman among them in the six years since union. My own feeling is that the Church should move forward on as many fronts as possible, depending on where women choose to put their

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energy. I think that regulations do serve as a brake on the expansionist nature of male power, and are therefore worth keeping. Let's not lose the hard-won ground already gained! But as quotas can so easily be got round in subtle or even blatant ways, I would suggest also the setting of future targets, for example that decision-making bodies should represent the composition by sex of the congregation, the targets to be formally adopted by the councils of the Church, together with specific programs and strategies for moving towards them. Second, the Church has as yet put virtually no money into this area, crucial for its future health. I would suggest that full-time appointments be made, perhaps two women in each state, to initiate and encourage the support action along the lines of all eleven recommendations of the women's submission in 1974. But perhaps our best hope is still the profound and hopeful restlessness of women.

A disappointing postscript In 1983, at the end of the six years for which the regulations were in force, the Assembly allowed them to lapse. At the following Assembly in May 1985 the NSW Synod moved that the regulations be reintroduced. The motion was lost, and the mood of the Assembly, as shown in other decisions also, was clearly against the participation of women in decision-making bodies of the Church. Our earlier optimism about the willingness of the Uniting Church in Australia to move out of its conservative and patriarchal mould was unfortunately ill-founded.

12 A quixotic approach The women's movement and the Church in Australia VERONICA BRADY Don Quixote has always been one of my heroes not because he mistook windmills for giants or prostitutes for princesses but because he insisted on believing in the possibility of giants and princesses. Times of social change are times of tension, confusion and misunderstanding. Warring ideologies can be as destructive, perhaps even more so in a psychic rather than physical sense, as warring armies. The Women's Movement, the struggle that is to readjust the position of women in a changing world, a struggle which involves contesting injustice on the one hand and clarifying the notion of woman and the place she has in the world on the other, is part of this conflict of ideology, the result of the seismic historical upheavals of this century. In talking about any aspects of the Women's Movement therefore it is important first of all to get clear what we are talking about and where the argument leads us. But it is even more important in dealing with 'Women and the Church in Australia' because the combination of the word 'Church' with the rest of its phrase is particularly complex, particularly provocative. Let us first of all then get clear what I shall be talking about when I use the word. As the Oxford Dictionary tells us, 'Church' has two kinds of meanings. It means something objective, 'a building for public worship' or 'the ecclesiastical organisation'. But it also means something subjective, 'the Christian community collectively', a community gathered together in the faith, hope and love that arises out of the Gospel, the Good News, of the story of Jesus. In talking about the 'Church' and 'Woman' in Australia or indeed anywhere it is important to keep this distinction in mind because external appearances may not always be true to the inner reality, which is the essential. But 141

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since these appearances probably concern most readers of this book I want to begin with them, and since I am myself a member of the Roman Catholic section of the Church I shall mainly be writing about the face that church presents to the world. As far as current perception goes, the Catholic Church is the great enemy of feminism and this not only in the eyes of non-Christians. Christian feminists like Rosemary Reuther and Mary Daly in the USA and Barbara Thiering and Jean Skuse in Australia1 have made out an eloquent case for the dehumanisation and even 'neuroticisation'2 which have all too often been the consequence of official church policies like the opposition not only to contraception, divorce and abortion, but also to careers for women. By and large as far as the Australian Church is concerned woman's place seems to be in the home, her primary and perhaps only role to bear children or else to become a woman religious. The option to remain single has a very dubious place, though middle-aged spinsters prove their worth as sacristans, church sweepers, flower-arrangers, and if old or unattractive enough, as priests' housekeepers. As for the woman religious, even though she would seem at first to have a special place within the institution, that place is generally as second-class citizens whose function is, it seems, to provide a cheap and docile workforce as teachers and nurses. Especially in parish schools, the nun is expected to do what the parish priest decrees, meekly and without question, to treat him with deference and wait on him—if Father comes to dinner he must never be allowed to do the washing up. There are grim stories told of priests totally insensitive to the emotional and physical needs of sisters in remote country parishes, just as there are equally grim stories of the celibate male's lack of understanding of sexual needs and problems in marriage. All this may be caricature, but caricature takes off from a basis of fact and nothing is gained by denying the undeniable. Equally it is hard to defend Rome's resolute opposition even to consider the question of the ordination of women—in theological terms an open question—and even harder to stomach the recent decree that women are no longer to be allowed to act as readers in the celebration of the liturgy, a decree which one can only suspect arises out of the notorious misogyny of medieval theologians who regarded women as ritually unclean, thus showing themselves to be disciples of Plato for whom the body and bodily functions was something unclean rather than of Jesus of Nazareth whose dealings with women were remarkably free for his time. For him indeed women were equals, a fact which lead a sometimes unsympathetic Paul to proclaim that in

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the Christian community there should be no more distinctions of Jew and Gentile, slave and free man, male and female but that 'you are all one person in Jesus Christ' (Gal. 3:28). All this is unfortunately very familiar. But merely negative criticism is seldom fruitful. It is possible, I believe, to be positive about the relations between the Catholic Church and women. To tackle first of all the question of the Church's attitude to sexuality in general, and to contraception, and abortion, to divorce and extra-marital sexuality in particular. There is no doubt, as we have said, that the ban on all forms of contraception apart from the rhythm and the Billings method has forced many Catholics to have more children than they wanted or could cope with, emotionally as well as financially, and turned some women into mere childbearing machines. Yet sexual freedom is an ambiguous concept. Susan Sontag has argued recently: Merely to remove the onus placed upon the sexual expressiveness of women is a hollow victory if the sexuality they become free to enjoy remains the old one that converts women into objects . . . This already 'freer' sexuality mostly reflects a spurious idea of freedom, the right of each person, briefly, to exploit and dehumanize someone else. Without a change in the norms of sexuality, the liberation of women is a meaningless goal. Sex as such is not liberating for women. Neither is more sex.3 Compulsory sexuality, whether it be heterosexuality or, as some extreme lesbian separatists would have it, homosexuality, can be as tyrannous a subjection to physical necessity as uncontrolled fertility. If one of the goals of the women's movement is liberation from this subjection, then the Church's ideal of chastity is by no means as negative as it has been said to be. The word has gathered unfortunate overtones, it is true, and is all too often associated with repression, ignorance, fear and frigidity. But the notion that sexual expression should be governed by respect for the other and for oneself and that it is not the only or even the best way of loving is a positive one. So too with virginity. Against the neo-Freudians the Church asserts that it is possible for some people to be mature and loving without the experience of genital sexuality. There are neurotic celibates, of course, but there are also large numbers of celibate men and women in the Church who are normal loving human beings. Ideology is particularly dangerous here. 'Woman' is not just a sexual category— indeed sexuality may well be the linchpin of gender inequality—and

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to challenge the idea that one becomes a woman through the experience of genital (as distinct from psychic) spirituality is to advance rather than retard the cause of women. If it is true, as Julie Kristeva suggests, that groups define themselves according not only to their relation to the means of production but also to the means of reproduction, then chastity offers an alternative to the exploitative mode of our society and to the conflictual model of existence.4 This brings us to some consideration of the context of our discussion, Australian society. Whether or not it is true, as Barbara Thiering alleges,5 that Australians generally have a 'deeply crippled self-image' it is incontestable that Australia is intrinsically involved in the capitalist world system and, perhaps more contestable, that our ways of thought and behaviour are affected by this system. By and large it seems to be assumed that the task of schools is to train people as workers and consumers and thus to accept the sexual stereotyping that directs boys in the direction of the maths and sciences and thus to positions of power and prestige in technological society and girls elsewhere, on the premise that their task is to be beautiful rather than brainy and thus ultimately objects of men's pleasure. Sexuality is an ambiguous concept but it is at least arguable that in this kind of usage it is part of the capitalist consumer ethic—certainly the female body has become a necessary element in marketing. In objecting to this exploitative aspect of sex, the Church is perhaps doing what it did in the Graeco-Roman world when it opposed prostitution and the systematic degradation of women which went with the exaltation of the spirit at the expense of the body. Though most feminists have little sympathy for the Church's concept of woman, it does give woman a very important place. Indeed the Church is traditionally seen as a woman, the feminine if you like, in relation to the fertilising power of God at work in creation, and Mary the Mother of Jesus as the most perfect of all believers. Convent schools in Australia may have much to answer for, but at least they put before girls an image of the independent woman not only in Mary but also in women saints like Catherine of Siena who in the name of God ordered the Avignon Popes back to Rome, Teresa of Avila who talked as an equal with nobles and princes, Mary Ward the seventeenth-century Englishwoman who founded an order of nuns who were to be as free to live in the world and serve its needs as the Jesuits were, Catherine McAuley whose followers went with the migrants who crossed the world to Australia, America, Africa and so on to look after the poor, the sick and the ignorant or that great Australian,

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Mary McKillop, who founded the Josephite order to educate and care for the people of the outback. It is even arguable that in the nuns who taught them many girls recognised independent women who as teachers, nurses or social workers had a career in their own right. Long before the twentieth century, there were feminists like Mary Ward, for example, who replied to the priests and bishops who wanted to condemn her idea of a community of liberated women. Their argument was that women were necessarily inferior to men, less intelligent and thus unable to present Christian doctrine or to cope with temptation. Thus they needed to be protected, set apart behind the high walls of a cloister. To this Mary Ward responded: There is no such difference between men and women [she retorted]. Fervour is not placed in feelings but in a will to do well which women may have as well as men. Women may do great things, as we have seen by example of many saints who have done great things and I hope in God it will be seen that women in time to come will do much . . . This is truth, this is verity, to do what we have to do well. Many think it nothing to do ordinary things. But for us it is a great deal. . . This is all I have to say at this time; that you love verity and truth.6 Australian society by and large is an aggressively masculine if not macho one, but the Church's image of the woman at least gives woman a place and a significance over and above her role as mere sexual object, housekeeper or producer of children. Even the emphasis on motherhood and the family make her a powerful and valuable person, someone to whom the male must defer and whom he must honour, and contemporary women are beginning to rethink their attitudes, accepting that mothering may be seen, as Mary Beth Elshtain puts it, as 'a complicated, rich, ambivalent, vexing, joyous activity'.7 Recognition of this fact goes along with the repudiation of the old dualism with which we have been saddled in favour of an 'account that unites mind and body, reason and passion, into a comprehensive [view] of human subjectivity and identity', thus creating 'a feminist theory of action that, complicatedly, invokes both inner and outer experiences'.8 The sacramental world of the Church also presupposes this kind of unity and it is thus not so surprising that many of the pioneering generation of feminists like Bella Guerin, one of the first women to graduate at the University of Melbourne, as well as many more recent feminists like Germaine Greer or Susan Ryan, have been products of convent schools. Brought up and trained in

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single-sex schools they did not have to define themselves in terms of masculine expectations. There was more room for them to discover what it meant to be female as something positive, not just as notmale. This kind of discovery has not been so important so far in the Women's Movement in Australia, where the great task has been to contest social injustice, to rebel against pervasive patterns of subordination, limitation and confinement, and see to it that women are given their rightful opportunities in public life, allowed to have careers, as members of parliament, doctors, lawyers, academics and so on. In this task there is still a long way to go, but at least the pass has been won. The next stage, however, is more problematic. On the one hand women who have achieved some social power are in danger of being co-opted, becoming 'courtesy males' or at least of being perceived as doing so, while on the other hand, many feminists, especially the lesbian separatists, are withdrawing from political involvement. As its founders saw it, however, the Women's Movement does not involve surrender of the public sphere, the sphere of culture and civilisation, but neither does it involve losing one's sense of self as feminine, possessed of a special mode of existence. Feminists elsewhere have become increasingly aware of this dilemma and this has led to the call for a feminist theory. Susan Griffin, for instance, poses the question: 'What if all our efforts towards liberation are determined by an ideology which despite our desire for a better world would lead us inevitably back to the old paradigm . . . of warfare?'9 If it is true, as Simone de Beauvoir has said, that woman has been defined by the male gaze, has been the mirror image of his desires, then it is necessary now to begin to define the feminine, its mode of being and forms of power and to consider the ways in which we are to modify the hitherto dominant masculine mode and power structure. What is needed, in other words, is not so much a model of contestation, of hatred of the male as enemy but 'a passionate desire to heal suffering . . . a vision of possibility, a desire to know the whole truth [about human existence], and understand and know what is obscured or what has been forgotten, to take in the unknown'.10 In Australia in particular the feminine mode has been obscured. Whatever it means, it can be associated with the land and with the dark side of the self, the intuitive and the instinctual, all of which Australian culture has tended to neglect, clinging to the fringes of the self as to the fringes of the continent.11 My contention is that the words to describe and thus to activate this dimension are words and

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images which are essentially religious, which have to do, that is, with realities at present unseen. Feminists elsewhere, in the USA particularly, are increasingly becoming aware of the need to take possession of this area, to define what it means to be woman as such, not just as not-man or even as anti-man. How many women today are like Laura in Elizabeth Harrower's The Watch Tower, who still felt 'like someone on a runaway train, events [flashing! by like stations, with no reference to her at all'12 or like Glen Tomasetti's heroine in Perfectly Ordinary People. One cold Monday afternoon cleaning the bath she is suddenly aware of herself, getting old and still 'thinking useless thoughts' and, getting out of the bath, looks at herself in the mirror on the door of the medicine chest and says aloud,' "There's no progress around here" '.13 This word 'progress', of course, is the crucial word in any discussion of the Women's Movement, especially now when many of its earlier goals seem to have been more or less achieved. Unable to create an Archimedean point outside the world, we must now begin to find and make our own some centre of value within the self, 'scanning the beacons that flare along the horizon', as Adrienne Rich puts it, 'asking whether any of them is our lighthouse'.14 If much of our Australian culture involves a radical forgetting of the traditional values, the Church, despite everything, still keeps alive at least one of these beacons, a sense of the transcendent and thus of the absolute value of each individual not for what she/he possesses or has achieved in material terms but for her/himself, a sense which thus gets beyond sexual stereotyping. If that person is free who is no longer constrained by forces which alienate her from herself, whether these forces be external, economic, social or even political, or internal, physical or emotional needs, and can thus do what she wants, the secret of freedom may well be found in this sphere of interiority, in the spiritual dimension, the sphere of the 'sublime "I" ',15 the sphere which is no longer governed by nature or the state. Similarly Christian teaching has never been really sympathetic to crude masculine notions of power—hence Nietzsche's and Schopenhauer's charge that Christianity is effeminate. A feminist discourse will need to develop its own concept and language of power and may well find both concept and language in the Christian tradition of non-violence and of symbolic expression. And so we return to Don Quixote, to the importance of challenging definitions of reality and of value which tend to restrict, confine and oppress. Women in Australia may have made important gains, but it

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is at least arguable that the way forward for the future lies in exploring the nature of her feminity, not in accepting the status quo but transforming it. Consciousness-raising, after all, is a matter not only of coming to know different things but of coming to know them in a different way. In the general deconstruction of reality which follows from experiencing it inwardly and affirmatively, woman may discover her full significance. With its emphasis on the intuitive, the ecstatic and the symbolic the Church may well be woman's best ally in discovering this significance, directing us away from narrow merely rationalistic and utilitarian definitions of reality and value to explore inner, female space. In turn women then may recall the Church to its true nature, to become the place of inwardness and thus of freedom.

13 The feminisation of structures in religious orders ANNE McLAY

Religious orders of women within the Roman Catholic tradition have typically been female replicas of the male models. Men have written or corrected their constitutions. In some instances men have assumed the role of Higher Superior or, more commonly, have acted as spiritual director, fulfilling their role in an active way. Many female religious orders have been founded as a kind of subsidiary arm to the more important and more privileged clerical order. This has been but a reflection of the normal status of women. Women are still the most burdened in any contemporary poor society. Women still have little say in our own religious and social system, in our government, economics, defence. We do not have to be Marxist to see validity in Friedrich Engels' naming the subjugation of women as the first relationship of oppressor-oppressed, or in his further claim that it is the foundation of all other class and property relations.1 Jesus had changed this, giving women dignity and equal leadership roles. But the Church, as it developed, was pressurised by Roman law and Graeco-Roman social practice in the opposite direction, and women became unequal again. This movement towards inequality was strengthened by the ambivalence of Paul's attitude to women within the Christian community. On the one hand, he affirmed their equality (Gal. 3:28); on the other, he severely restricted their active participation in public worship (1 Cor. 14:34-5). He opened up a new independence for women by including them in the call to celibacy (1 Cor. 7:8). Yet this meant that women who did marry became confined to the household, in which reigned a descending hierarchy: God— man—woman (1 Cor. 11:3).2 Rosemary Reuther explains this first exploitative relationship thus: 'From the dawn of history the physical lightness of woman's body 149

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(which has nothing to do with biological inferiority) and the fact that the woman is the childbearer have been used to subordinate the woman to the man in a chattel status and to deprive women of the leadership possibilities and the cultural development of the dominant group.'3 Religious women escaped, in some ways, from male dominance. In New Testament times women were often leaders of house churches. In later decades, deaconesses were usual. As convents were established, nuns were able to win great freedom from the clerical male establishment and to create a rich feminine culture. In one way, they did this by becoming 'male' in so far as they existed in relationship to God, not to father or husband. Thereby they could escape many of the implications of their femininity, and could perform extraordinary feats of public service.4 In Australia, for example, they built hospitals and staffed them, almost without any help from the diocesan churches. They administered and staffed an extraordinary number of schools and, once again, frequently built them unaided by the official church agencies.5 They have been among the forerunners of social work with their homes for various kinds of disadvantaged children and adults, and in these latter decades have moved out into many diverse kinds of pastoral and social ministries, including that of action for social change. It has been an achievement largely unsung by both civil and ecclesiastic society, for these religious women somehow do not really belong to the official institutions of 'state' or 'church'. I am a member of a fairly typical—and 'successful'—nineteenthcentury religious congregation of women devoted to the spread of God's Kingdom of love through the service of the needy. As our name indicates, we engage in the works of mercy, spiritual and corporal. Though we have some affinity with the Irish Christian Brothers founded some few years previously, the Sisters of Mercy are not a female arm of a male order. Yet, like most of the female congregations established at that time, a bishop's influence was critical to the type of society we became. Our foundress, Catherine McAuley, was spending her inherited wealth in setting up a house of refuge for young women at risk in the Dublin slums. She did not want her small band of helpers to become a religious congregation, fearing the restrictions on their service that this would entail. However, Archbishop Daniel Murray of Dublin finally persuaded her that the work would not otherwise endure without this official church sanction and regulation. He had quite a lot to say in the writing of her constitutions, even

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deleting a section written by Catherine on the sisters' cheerful yet sweet gravity of manner, apparently considering it too 'feminine'. Having been amended by the archbishop in this and other ways, the constitutions were then sent to Rome where a totally clerical Sacred Congregation finally approved them.6 Until such time as each new Mercy foundation comprised seven professed sisters, the local bishop was empowered by these constitutions to 'nominate the Mother Superior, and the other principal officials of the Convent'. He himself was named as the highest superior, under the Holy See, of the communities. In Queensland, Bishop James Quinn (1861-81) continued to act in this way, taking liberties not allowed to him even by the Mercy rule. He made and remade superiors at his will, long after the number of professed sisters was more than seven. He changed staff, sometimes against the decisions of the convent superiors. He altered internal arrangements, innovating and changing conventual customs. Through his decree, their internal government developed in a direction other than that envisaged in Ireland. At the command of the bishop, the Queensland Sisters of Mercy departed from the monastic form of separate independent religious houses as intended by Catherine, and were transformed into a diocesan-centralised unit. He deposed Mother Vincent Whitty, the first Brisbane superior and a woman of amazing vision and courage—so outstanding, in fact, that the Dublin Chapter of Mercies had refused to let her volunteer to go with Quinn to the newly separated colony of Queensland, saying they could not spare her. Quinn would not take no for an answer and prevailed on Cardinal Cullen of Dublin to overrule the women's decision. Yet a few years later he deposed her from office for being 'too lax' in government.7 Mother Vincent Whitty and Mary McKillop, founder of the Australian Sisters of St Joseph, each in quite different ways successfully refused to be subordinated. Mary McKillop had extraordinary burdens to carry imposed by more than one Australian bishop. Her protest was often public, and in Queensland she withdrew her members rather than agree to Quinn's demands.8 Mother Vincent preferred to avoid any public break with the bishop or withdrawal from the diocese. Her character was such that she could do this and still preserve her own quiet serenity. The Brisbane Sisters of Mercy grew in strength and virtual independence under her continued informal leadership.9 But women like Mary McKillop and Mother Vincent were rare creatures. On the whole, the women seemed to have little will to effect

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fundamental changes. Many generations of young sisters, including my own age group, were guided in the spiritual life by Jesuit retreat directors and Jesuit confessors. The prevailing model was a severe interpretation of the Spiritual Exercises, often harsh in a way not intended by their author Ignatius. The result was certainly a disciplined, aggressive approach to spirituality, more appropriate to the army model of the Society of Jesus than to women's communities. One result of this male influence in the development of the female orders has been the adoption of the patriarchal structures of Western society. Among the consequences has been a violence that many women religious seem to have to do to themselves to fit these largely 'masculine' structures. Given the ideal of religious life prevailing for a long time, namely, that it is a lifestyle commanding one's loyalty to the smallest detail of daily activity, whether physical or mental, the violence could be at times almost total. This is not to say that many women did not live happy and fulfilled lives within the structures. But something had gone wrong and there was suffering, some of it perhaps unredemptive, much of it undoubtedly unnecessary. Institutions of themselves can be Christian or unchristian. Structures can help or hinder our proclamation of the truth, our service of people, our building of community. There is the beginning of an awareness among us, I sense, that we women religious need to find structures and procedures for our institutional living which more truly embody our natures as women. In this chapter I shall try to explore this question of 'feminisation' of structures, and shall refer particularly to the structure of General Chapter, highest organ of government in a religious society. It is a very tentative exploration, coming out of my own reflection on my own experience and prompted by my role as member of the general council of the Brisbane Sisters of Mercy. It is a beginning exploration and I hope the reader will accept it as such. For those readers not familiar with the inner workings of a religious order, let me first describe some traditional practices which most contemporary religious can remember. A religious order's structure is democratic at its highest level, in so far as the structure is based on government by top officials elected in General Chapter by elected delegates of all the professed members. However, until recently, the democracy ended there. The highest superior was assisted by a Vicar', next in order of importance and power, followed by the rest of the governing council (two or three usually), who were definitely lower on the hierarchical ladder. Local officials were

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appointed by the top person or group. Often positions or functions were given to or belonged by right to the 'seniors by profession'. In our congregation the Mistress of Novices and the Bursar General were automatically members of the council. The combination of councillor, superior and spiritual teacher in the one person of the Novice Mistress gave her for most young people in formation an overwhelming aura of sacredness. As one sister at a recent gathering of over-fifties reminisced, 'She was God'. In every house of the congregation, the sisters sat in order of seniority at table, in chapel, in the community room. Bedrooms and other 'goodies' were received in order of seniority. On visitation of poor homes in the local area, one of our traditional works of mercy, the senior led the prayers while the junior carried the basket. This is but one small application of the principle which defined much of our behaviour. All in all, maintaining the structure seemed at times more important than developing the Kingdom. While such regulations allowed large organisations to function in an ordered way and without too much overt conflict, it was often at great cost to the individual. The base was control and domination. The discipline was at times surprisingly similar to that of an army—traditionally a male organisation in our society. Justice not mercy could easily prevail. People had little real participation in making decisions which could affect their lives to an enormous extent. Instead of the uniqueness of the human personality being nurtured and nourished, many were forced into a common mould, and they often cracked. Work became the final product for quite a few, the source of their identity. Efficiency of service, competence, productivity rather than people and their needs seemed part of their raison d'etre. There was .stress on corporate identity, with the habit (dress) as the cherished symbol. The heart seemed ignored. Women who seem more at home in the smaller informal family-style unit than in the highly regulated anonymous large institution existing to produce the goods of holiness or service or whatever, readily became resentful and angry, or apathetic or depressed. When the structures were finally made more flexible, in the wake of Vatican II, the hidden rebellion dissolved into many departures from religious life. The men were also affected—for the structures they had built ignored, I believe, the 'feminine' within themselves. Men may have seemed freer than women in using the structures, and I have no tightly constructed proof that such structures were inherently

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'masculine'. Yet they were structures built up largely by men and copied by or forced upon women. They are consistent with those of our traditional patriarchal society, and counterparts still survive in civil life. Rosemary Reuther and Judith Vaughan present arguments that seem relevant here. Vaughan, using Reuther, argues along these lines: A hierarchically structured society establishes some persons or some groups of people above others, and gives them the power to define all others in relation to themselves—an essentially dehumanizing situation. Those who are lower on the scale thereby have to define themselves in relation to their superiors. Relationships of mutuality and interdependence are impossible. Alienation from others and from one's true self is the final result. If, then, the first—and fundamental—social relationship of exploitation is the male/female relationship, then the male is easily seen as the superior on the hierarchical scale, and the female the powerless, dependent, passive one. While this relationship of woman to man has undergone some changes during the centuries, for example, from 'inferiority' to 'complementarity', the basic inequality exists. One group of people in power (men) are able to define another group of people (women) over against themselves. Women have been conditioned to accept their dependence and powerlessness. Men and women are prevented from relating to and co-operating with each other as equals in the creation of society. Women are kept by our social structures from interfer[ing] with the real business of running the world.10 I cannot yet say to what extent I accept the feminist arguments; but I do know from my own experience that structures such as I have described were alienating to most of the women living under them. The manner of living that they imposed appears to have involved some inner contradictions especially repugnant to women. The structures can be termed, I believe, 'masculine' rather than 'feminine'. It must be said at this stage that 'masculine' and 'feminine', as I use them in this chapter, are not interchangeable terms with 'male' and 'female'. 'Masculinity' and 'femininity' belong to both men and women. The man, however, is dominantly 'masculine' and the woman correspondingly 'feminine'. The whole person, nevertheless, has

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developed both sides to his or her personality. While many of our masculine and feminine traits may be culturally determined, I accept, however, that some are inherently uppermost in our nature as a man or a woman, and that we have to work to develop the other side of our self. Women appear to prefer a mode of judging through feeling, men through thinking. Women emphasise nurture, compassion, sensitivity within human relationships. Men emphasise competition, mastery, control. Women seem naturally more receptive, men more aggressive. Women intuit, men reason. A general case, at any rate, can be made for such distinctions. Whether they are inherent or cultural in origin, I find them acceptable so long as they do not lead to diminishment and are not seen as obligatory or exclusive. Our rationalist Western society as a whole is masculine, and our education has left latent many of our non-rational, feminine traits, whether we be male or female. We are seeing one effect of this masculine imbalance in the religious order structures which have been described. I would like to develop my argument concerning the need to 'feminise' our structures by examining what has happened to the General Chapter of Religious Congregations of women within the last three decades, that is, since Vatican II. The General Chapter is an amazingly democratic organ of government to have persisted through long years of enculturation of religious orders by a society based on autocracy, whether feudal or monarchical. In early groups such as the Benedictines, the chapter was used for regular review of the monastery's life, and the youngest member was listened to as reverently as the eldest. In all groups it was the organ of election of the major governing officials and, theoretically at least, set broad directions for the future. By Vatican II it had become, in practice, often just an electing body. Vatican II introduced the notion of a special renewal chapter, with at least two long sessions. Its purpose was a thorough overhaul of aims and practices and manner of living. The special chapter took years of preparation and of putting into operation. For most women religious, it meant learning new techniques based on the rules of parliamentary debate and/or the principles of business management. They wrote submissions, elected delegates, learned to debate on the chapter floor. Small house meetings and large group assemblies were held to generate and discuss data. Committees and research groups were formed; first, second, and third drafts of position papers were written. Commissions or task forces carried the position papers through the debating process until they were accepted as

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statements of the chapter by the elected delegates. Constitutions began to be revised in the light of a re-examined original charism or spirit. They were rewritten, initially at least in the traditionally legal form. Renewal became a way of life, a spirituality almost. But there was also hostility to some aspects of the new learning. The formal, adversary style traditional to parliamentary debating or even the more newly developed techniques of business management were self-defeating for many women. They were valuable techniques, but something was not quite right. Once again there seemed to be occurring a violence to self and to relationships. A kind of paralysis often set in. Or at other times, an overaggressive reaction resulted in hostility. History seemed to be repeating itself, and we did not really learn from our mistakes when we came to the chapters of the 1970s and early 1980s. The models being employed were worked out by men and taught to the women by men, who also guided the process of many of the sessions. Women were still assuming their traditional passivity in the face of their guides in the spiritual life. The models developed by the men brought religious together in large groups. This seemed to be particularly alienating to women, most of whom work more efficiently in smaller informal settings. Again a kind of violence was subtly accompanying the large group assemblies, at least those concerned with debate and discussion. A kind of power play indirectly held sway. A sense of powerlessness in many individuals resulted, and a reluctance in the group to take responsibility for itself. But the beginning of a reaction among the women was also becoming clear, a reaction which is one manifestation of the wider Women's Movement in society. This latter may be described as probably the most significant social movement of our time.11 One of the directions it is now taking is the perception of a need for both women and men to readdress the feminine within us and to build structures accordingly. Some Catholic writers, who also subscribe to the view that this is the most important movement of our day, attribute it to the power of the spirit of Wisdom.12 There has been a movement of Wisdom through the centuries, and the breakthrough is occurring in our own day and foremost among women. Wisdom in the Old Testament is always feminine. The Wisdom literature of the sacred books shows God constantly dynamic, creating all the time, working from within, rooted in our human situation, flowing outward and inward, nurturing and ordering all things well, bringing an exchange of life and of love. Jesus' mission comes out of God's Wisdom and is recognised through his growing discernment of the Spirit of

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God working in his own life and in the lives of those around him, particularly the 'little ones', the poor, the powerless, the rejected. Among the 'little ones' of his society were the women. With his complete personality Jesus could relate to women equally as to men. Jesus' urgent, all-consuming sense of mission, his compassionate awareness of those who were suffering through any kind of oppression, his willingness to endure, to let go, to persevere, to challenge—however the Spirit called him at a particular moment— these characteristics are reflected in much of the contemporary Women's Movement, especially where Christian women are involved. This is what I hear such women saying: we need a more holistic, non-violent approach; an approach which nurtures and nourishes the human beings affected; a decision-making process which works from within the situation; a process which means being open to others, not dominating but seeking consensus among all those whose lives will be touched; a process which gently probes the interior of the human psyche and devises ways to discern the Spirit within our psyche and within the events around us. Perhaps women, including religious women, had to experience the frustration and the anger of trying to operate within masculine models, had to feel restricted by the tight structures of debate and analysis and decision-taking, had to push themselves to the limits of their energy and find it led to nonproductivity or to the ordering of details and minor tasks rather than to finding visions and nurturing people. Only then, perhaps, could they reach that degree of consciousness which could say 'Let's work out our own models, models that do not discard what is valuable in the masculine but which more completely suit our nature as women'— models, in fact, which are holistic, all-rounded. As my contribution to that task, I would like to suggest two steps towards the feminisation of any structures in religious congregations of women, and more specifically, of the structure of a chapter. They are not new, but I think it may now be time to try to clarify what we have been intuitively moving towards. Therefore, I would suggest that, first, we need a new model of knowledge, a new concept of knowing and understanding; and that, second, we need a new model of association, a new concept of the kind of environment or climate in which we operate together. A new model of knowledge would take due account of the 'feminine' aspects of our intellect, those non-rational abilities which Western society has tended to ignore, indeed, has tended to dismiss as irrational. The rational, logical tasks of collecting and analysing data,

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and of making syntheses to detect trends and form generalisations are vitally important and an essential part of a holistic model of knowledge. But they comprise only half the model. There is also an intuitive approach to knowledge, which grasps by wholes and is often, and probably usually, for a woman, connected with a feeling approach to decision-making. It is the part of the intellect which gives play to the imagination, to creativity, and to the aesthetic elements in human living. The emotions are indispensably interwoven, and it is this that makes many highly logical thinking people dismiss intuition as 'the way in which women think'—or rather 'don't think'—and hence as inferior. Yet it is essential, for both men and women, to develop both sides of one's intellect if an integrated approach to knowing and to living is to be reached. Many writers assert that there are biological as well as psychological factors indicated.13 The faculty of reason or logic is seated in the left hemisphere of the brain. Some neurologists and psychologists say that men are naturally more specialised than women, concentrating on the rational or logical approach to decision-making, less holistic in the operation of their brains. Intuition, as part of the non-rational (not irrational) dimension of the human self, is connected with the right hemisphere of the brain, with what is called 'feminine consciousness'. It is also the seat of the aesthetic element of human existence, expressed and communicated through different art forms. Not all philosophers and scientists have refused to recognise intuition as a valid way of knowing. There is an anecdote told about Albert Einstein, when he was asked to describe the theory of relativity simply. He replied: 'I cannot do what you request. But if you will call on me at Princeton, I will play it for you on my violin.'14 Plato taught that when modes of music change, the fundamental laws of the state change with them.15 The right hemisphere of the brain, the seat of 'feminine consciousness', is the locus of musical expression. What scope do we give to music in our days of law-making during Chapter, or of law-interpreting in our local house meetings? Can we come to the point of permitting understanding to come through feeling? Of providing channels for this to take place? Can we allow our emotional life, individual and communal, to lead us to deeper understandings? I can imagine the alarm that those last questions may arouse in some readers. So I would like to repeat again that it is a holistic approach which is needed. I would suggest that we women religious need to explore non-rational techniques of data collection, to round out or to complement the rational techniques presently employed. I

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would suggest that non-rational techniques of achieving understanding of the data collected can also be devised. I would also suggest that women religious pay more attention to the vital role that the emotions play in all our decision-making and to the fact that feeling as a way of making judgments (that is, on the basis of values) is for many women a preferred way. What might this mean in practice? Let me explore the possibilities for the Convocation or formal opening of the chapter, the calling together of the community for the sacred event. This is done normally in some form of a large assembly. Reports of the administrators are read. Position papers may be prepared. A few members—but only a few—have the confidence to respond in the large group. Some information is given; a lesser quantity is received. No one is particularly satisfied. Several are alienated by their non-participatory status, or by their inability to use those channels of communication which are opened to them. I am not suggesting that we give up preparing reports. Such are appropriate to a holistic model of knowledge. But I do suggest that we not forget our deep need for symbol—the language of intuition. Symbol is basic to music, art, dance, celebration and worship. Symbol is intrinsic to metaphor and story, dreams and twilight imagery. Could Convocation, then, comprise the telling of the story of the group, the ritual acceptance of its present reality, and an imaginative interpretation of the future? Perhaps this might be more revealing for many women, providing both data and understanding, and new light on the more rationally conceived reports. Stories can be told and ritualised through oral witness and symbolic presentation. The value of oral testimony, for example, is being rediscovered by historians, many of whom are now stating that oral witness can be more reliable than the written word. Lyndsay Fan-all's experience in Papua New Guinea led him to the realisation of the validity of oral testimony.16 One of our local Mercy communities recently told stories around a camp fire in the backyard, and were amazed at the understanding it helped the group reach. Stories seem to take us back to the very heart of reality, including our own. The young people who founded a commune in the Californian mountains rediscovered this ancient truth. Barbara Dean, one of them, writes: We also live without television and movie theatres. And like many others who have been in that situation, we tell stories. Constantly, and over and over, to anyone who will listen . . . Some stories have been told so many times that

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Our story can be told through the symbolism of dance, music, art, as well as words, and, very fittingly for an institution such as a religious order, through the corporate symbolic action of ritual. The telling of stories, sharing not just information but also our faith-filled interpretation of the events of our lives, can help develop a layer of prayer about us, an awareness that God is with us and at work in all kinds of situations. If religion, contemplation, mysticism, is a right-brain activity; if imagination and intuition are 'feminine' traits, then we can more easily bring them to life by creating and participating in our own social dramas. Westerhoff explains the role of ritual in our corporate lives. Ritual is a social drama which embodies the experiences of a community . . . Through the power of symbolic actions we order our experience; through the use of symbolic narrative we explain our lives. Ritual operates on those levels of existential reality that undergird the conceptual. Importantly, ritual points to and participates in that primordial truth which is located at the expanding edge of our horizon of knowing, in the affections and the intuition, not common sense or reason . . . [I]t is in our symbolic actions—our rituals, our social dramas—that we experience the ultimate meanings and purposes of life and our lives.18 Movement is an essential element in corporate ritual. Creative dance, as with other art forms, can 'awaken the right lobe'.19 Dance was very much part of Old Testament worship; it can be a bridge from the world of intellect to the world of imagination, helping us grasp in deeper ways the meaning of religious concepts and see the world in a novel light. De Sola and Easton tell a story which seems pertinent here: Once, at a liturgy celebrated after endless discussion and argumentation, when it seemed that there would be yet more verbalization all through the liturgy, the unexpected happened. During a momentary pause, a

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young man arose and dramatically entered the open space before the altar. Then, without a word, he mimed, danced, and acted out a moving comment on the morning's conflict, cutting through with strong gestures all that was unessential. A gasp of astonishment passed through the congregation; it was reminiscent of other times when the Holy Spirit seemed to suddenly move and be present in unexpected ways, causing all to take note and be changed.20 Perhaps our community can find a richer meaning for ourselves and a truer vision of God through dance, music, poetry? It is not fortuitous that the final draft of our constitutions are written in a poetic style akin to free verse, and that other groups are writing theirs in similar style. Perhaps we could give special care and time to the type of worship and other celebrations we have during Chapter, allowing them to give play to our 'feminine consciousness'. Perhaps we could also test the power of symbolic dramatic action, as did the Old Testament prophets teaching their truths—and reaching a deeper understanding themselves—through symbolised action. So, too, do the women of the contemporary peace movement, and the women in the American Church movement. We must remember also our urgent and continued need for a 'still point'. We need to take a lot of time to pray and reflect together, to listen to the spirit of Wisdom within. We need to schedule real time for quiet, real time for nurturing ourselves. It would seem that the act of creation, of inventing, of making something new, must occur at the still point. It comes out of the mystical element in human life, of the non-rational or intuitive, of right-brain or feminine consciousness. The moment of breakthrough, moreover, happens most often at a moment of meditation, or relaxation, or contemplation. There is a leap of the imagination, a touch of the divine Wisdom, and its knowledge is transmitted. The whole of the intellect is required in the preparation for this one moment of breakthrough to something new. But if we are too busy to reflect, to contemplate, to relax, to pray . . . is that moment of breakthrough even possible? The second thing I would urge is that we need a new model of association. We need structures based on a non-violent way of relating, of nurturing self and caring for one another, of empowering through friendship. We need a climate of being at home with each other, a different texture of our action together, our corporate decision-making.

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A recent book on women in politics in Australia comments on their 'informal, participatory and consensual style unlike the formal, adversary style traditional to Parliament'.21 We have a need to listen to one another, truly listen without getting ready our own repartee. Many of our women are ill at ease in the 'formal, adversary style' or even at preparing formal recommendations. Perhaps the more intuitive members could tell their stories and leave it to those with the skills of logic to shape into relevant data or proposals. I suspect that some such simple cooperative technique would eliminate the harmful sense of powerlessness. A sense of the need to wait and to listen would be required from others. Maybe consensus would be a more holistic mode of decision-taking than majority vote. Chapters of recent times have talked about 'participative government', 'participatory structures and procedures'. Some steps have been taken to put these concepts into effect. Yet we still have a long way to go if those whose lives are affected by structures of government and procedures of administration are empowered to be involved in and take responsibility for the decisions made. An attempt to achieve real consensus among all the members in some of the most important decisions for the congregation would be a long step on the way. But decision-taking by consensus requires patience and time. A vote may solve the necessity for making a reasonably quick judgment, but it may be a compromise that satisfies no one, or else a tyranny of some over the rest. In times of real conflict a vote may pass a law without real agreement reached, without being a true expression of who we are and how we want to live together. Sometimes, to reach consensus, discussion must be dropped. We must retire into our 'still point'. Finally a decision may be reached which we can all accept, and which allows for personal growth within a context of genuine harmony. At other times a decision may not be reached. The community is not ready. Our Chapter may have 'ragged edges'. Some issues may be left on hold until the level of energy to resolve them is high enough. This is the way of empowerment. We enable each other to respond with total sincerity to God's Word in our lives. Leadership in this context is giving each member the power to participate and to decide. Leadership is for emptying ourselves, letting go. Leadership is for each one of us. This is the friendship model of Jesus. Jesus shared what was in his heart with his disciples, whom he no longer called servants or slaves but friends.22 Friends know one another's business. Friends grow to think alike, to do things the same way, to make

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decisions in like manner. Friends give each other energy for their corporate mission. Sometimes it is easier to be a servant than a friend. A friend dies for his or her friend. Jesus gave his friends the symbol of his total self-sharing—the Eucharist. He wanted his friends to do likewise, to be friends of one another. All this can be very difficult. It can be especially difficult in times of disagreement, when the common vision seems in jeopardy. But Jesus' concept of friendship means supporting one another in discerning God's action in our lives; being aware of the movements in the group; growing to be more real with each other, surfacing the underlying issues and staying with them however painful. It demands that we build a climate of trust and nonviolence as the context for our communal deliberations. That may well be the contribution religious women can make to today's growing femininity of our Church and our society—the discovery of new ways of living and working together in an organisational mode that lets each of us contribute, whether we be man or woman, with the whole of our being.

14 Implications of the feminine and masculine in pastoral ministry EDWARD MORGAN

The history of pastoral care in the Church is documented as largely a description of care exercised by men, mostly ordained or monastics, on behalf of either men or women. It is true that there have been examples of anointing with oil as far back as the early centuries of the Church's life by lay people, either male or female, as well as by bishops and priests.1 Historical documents also refer to unordained men and women who have been known as charismatic healers; for example, Queen Anne of England (d. 1714), the last of English royalty to practise healing.2 However, for the most part, the notable names in the literature of pastoral care are those of ordained men. None of this is surprising in view of the reality that the appointed and recognised pastors of the Church have mostly been men. Now that ordination is more open to women, pastoral care is being practised more extensively by ordained women on behalf of either men or women. In addition, the laity—both men and women—are often assuming new roles in the Church, including the pastoral role. Therefore it is appropriate to consider the implication of the masculine and the feminine in pastoral ministry. While it would seem that the focus in this consideration might turn entirely to the feminine aspect, since females are 'new' to the pastoral scene, we must remember that, although pastoring has been done by males, this does not mean that sufficient attention had been given to the masculine aspect of this ministry. We have much to discover about both the feminine and the masculine. For our purposes, 'pastor' will refer to the pastoral person, whether clergy or lay, male or female. The terms 'pastoral care' and 'pastoral ministry' can be used interchangeably, and both indicate a level of 164

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ministry different from simple Christian caring. Pastoral ministry does mean Christian caring, but at a level which includes the authority of the Church, competence in pastoral skills, and the presence of certain personal qualities in the pastor.

The special nature of pastoral ministry The implications of masculinity and feminity need special consideration with regard to pastoral ministry as compared to priestly and prophetic ministries. The latter two ministries tend to be expressed in formalised and public settings of liturgy and preaching, and the theological issues as well as practical considerations of gender have been extensively defined. Whether an ordained woman can represent Christ in the Eucharistic celebration, and whether an Amos-like denunciation of sin will be taken seriously when delivered by a woman, are questions being resolved by contemporary testing. However, in priestly and prophetic roles, the impact of the personal factors of masculinity or femininity are somewht removed from the people being ministered to—by distance, or perhaps by the wearing of vestments, by the presence of a number of people, and by the expectations inherent in the ministerial role. On the other hand, pastoral ministry tends to be done in private; the pastor is in physical proximity to the other person; touching is likely or may be part of the ministry itself; emotional tension is high; there is a helper-helpless implication which means vulnerability of the person who is ministered to; and in general both emotional and physical intimacy are heightened. This is not to say that theological convictions and practical considerations are irrelevant, but the personal dynamics of ministry come to the fore, and the pastor's masculinity or femininity will have an immediate impact on the person being ministered to—and his masculinity or her femininity will have an immediate impact on the pastor! The foregoing is not meant to imply that it does not matter whether the pastor is ordained or a lay person, male or female. In a situation marked by inherent intimacy, an ordained male pastor has a certain distance established between him and, say, a female hospital patient, just by the fact of ordination. At the same time, ordination gives a certain permission to intimacy because it is perceived as 'safe'. Thus the effects of masculinity and femininity are conditioned to some extent by the fact of ordination. A lay female pastor who ministers to a male hospital patient may find that intimacy is

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inhibited by the fact that her role is atypical (in current practice) and she may not know the man as well as an ordained pastor would know one of the flock; yet intimacy may be enhanced by the patient's natural acceptance of a mother figure's care in the sickroom setting.

The masculine and the feminine Our approach to the implications of masculinity and feminity in pastoral ministry will be made through the theory of the psyche developed by Jung. According to this theory, a person normally develops with a dominant sexual ego-identity, either male or female. This part is the conscious self. However, within each person there is an element of the opposite sex, a contrasexual core referred to as the anima in the male personality and the animus in the female.3 In the male, the anima exists in the psychic unconscious and personifies the contrasexual elements which express certain so-called feminine qualities. Ulanov identifies these as 'tenderness, sensitivity, deviousness, seduction, indefiniteness, feeling, receptivity, elusiveness, jealousy, creative containing and yielding, and understanding'. In a female, the animus exists in the psychic unconscious and personifies the contrasexual elements which express certain so-called masculine qualities—'capacity to penetrate, separate, take charge, initiate, create, stand firmly over and against, to articulate and express meaning'.4 Jung differentiates between shallower and deeper layers of the psychic unconscious. The former is the personal unconscious, containing 'repressed memories and traits which can be recalled to consciousness and experienced as belonging to the ego'.5 The deeper layer, called the objective psyche, contains archetypes, instinctive psychic drives of an objective, non-personal, universal nature which express themselves as 'a living system of reactions and aptitudes that determine the individual's life in invisible ways'.6 The anima and animus are among these archetypes. Represented mythologically, the anima archetype is represented in 'stories having to do with the eternal feminine in all its forms'7—for example, the Great Mother—while the animus archetype may be met as the Great King or in many other forms. How the contrasexual archetype functions is described briefly by Ulanov: 'it operates unconsciously and autonomously within the psyche. It often seems to have a life of its own which frequently conflicts with our clear intentions and values. Thus, to the conscious ego the anima or animus seems to be an impersonal

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"other" that confronts the ego from outside itself. Somehow the ego must learn to bring this force into connection with its own personal identity.'8 We are now approaching the relevance of Jung's theory of psychic structure to pastoral ministry. As an example, consider a male pastor with his dominant sexual ego-identity and masculine characteristics. Within him is a feminine core, the anima, introjected into his unconscious from significant females in his childhood—mother, sister, etc., culturally conditioned, and affected by the biological realities which differentiate him from females. So he is not simply a male; he is a male with femininity within. The function of the anima is to mediate the contents of the objective psyche (the deeper unconscious) to the man's conscious ego—that is, to put the man in touch with his capacity to focus upon and express his feminine qualities.9 If, however, the anima is unknown to or ignored by the conscious male ego, it is unconsciously projected on to people of the opposite sex.10 The man then sees in the woman not herself but himself, but since his projection is unconscious, he is unaware that he has a false image of her. Meanwhile, since she is a female with a masculine core, her animus, she may or may not be projecting her animus on to him. If she is, then the two are not really meeting each other; they are meeting themselves in each other. If, on the other hand, the man 'recognises that his anima is not identifiable with the woman upon whom it is projected, but rather belongs to himself and requires that his individual ego relate to it',11 he will be on his way towards the fulfilment of one of Jung's basic precepts—that personal wholeness is achieved only by full awareness of one's contrasexuality. The man will then have both his masculinity and femininity to bring into the presence of the other person. Since we are taking the position that females as well as males will be involved as pastors, it should be emphasised at this point that what has been said about a male and his anima can also be said about a female and her animus. A woman with a clear female ego-identity will bring a richness to her pastoral ministry if her animus is brought into connection with her conscious ego; then she will have both her femininity and her masculinity to bring into the presence of the other person.

The implications for pastoral ministry A female hospital patient suffers pain of apparent organic origin. The source of the pain cannot be determined with certainty without

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exploratory surgery; but exploratory surgery is not guaranteed to reveal the source. Medication and diet may alleviate the symptoms but may not effect a real cure. The patient is suffering, but she assumes the martyr role, bearing bravely this undeserved affliction while holding no malice toward anyone. She is able to recite the alternatives the doctor has outlined, but she couches her recitation in terms of being willing to go along with whatever 'they' decide, expressing hope that surely someone will extract the solution from a hopeless morass of possibilities, all too complex for her to cope with. Suppose that the pastor is a male, either ordained or lay. It would be appropriate for him to offer the healing ministries of prayer, possibly the laying on of hands, and the elicitation of a positive attitude in the patient toward the healing process. The pastor would also attempt the guiding function of pastoral care by helping the patient to sort out and weigh the alternatives in terms of their practical effects, present and long-term. Ministry might include helping the patient to deal with her avoidance of responsibility for decisions about her treatment. As a male functioning out of his dominant sexual ego-identity, the pastor may become very analytical, probing for details about medical procedures, what the doctor said, gathering data, and pushing for a decision about what to do on the basis of 'logic'. If the pastor had a negative introject from his own martyr-type mother, his anima might express itself toward the patient as an irritated impatience with her all-enduring laissez faire attitude and confused response to the options presented to her. Further, her dependency on 'them' for making a decision about her treatment may trigger in the pastor his aversion to the dependent ('feminine') side of his own makeup, resulting in his further assertiveness toward the patient to overcome her dependency, take charge of her life, make a decision, and be ready to accept the consequences! If the pastor's ego is not aware of these dynamics, his ministry to the patient will probably be objectified, unsympathetic, and overly directive. If, on the other hand, the pastor, while ignoring his masculine characteristics and ways of responding, is connected on the conscious level with his anima, his analytical, goal-oriented abilities will be balanced by feminine qualities and responses. Speaking and acting tenderly, he can bring the feeling dimension into the sickroom. (At some level of consciousness the patient may realise that she needs tenderness and may criticise the pastor inwardly for not demonstrating it.) The pastor will be able to differentiate between his mother as martyr then, and the patient as martyr now, and thus to

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respond more sympathetically to exploring the context in which the patient's decisions must be made: what about her family circumstances? how can imagining the future illuminate certain options? how much of the distress is physical pain and how much fear or anxiety? Thus the pastor will gently encourage the patient to get in touch with her whole self, including, possibly, her animus' expression of the masculine desire to be fearless and self-sufficient 01 can handle this martyrdom'), and the desirability of taking responsibility for crucial decisions about her own life. The description above indicates that when the pastor sets the feminine-in-him free to join the masculine-in-him in ministry, he is not demonstrating a learned pastoral skill. Instead, his ministry to the patient is a natural expression of pastoral masculinity combined organically with a pastoral femininity which he recognises and welcomes, not as an alien visitor from outer space (actually, from inner space—his unconscious), but as a genuine and valued part of his complete being, brought consciously to light and life and honoured by its use on behalf of someone in need. Ulanov describes this relationship of a man with his femininity this way: To establish contact with his anima, a man must trust her as though she were an actual autonomous, inner woman who cannot be controlled or dismissed but must be met as a person.'12 Likewise, the masculine in a female, her animus, must be met as an actual, autonomous, inner man who cannot be controlled or dismissed but must be met as a person. Let us now look at one of the common denominators, dependency, which appears as a factor in various pastoral situations, to see how the masculine and the feminine might play an important role. Some common pastoral situations are: 1 a bereaved person who is the object of sympathy because of his loss; 2 a hospital patient or nursing home resident who is confined and who experiences physical and emotional disability; 3 an elderly shut-in who cannot accomplish tasks or enjoy activities formerly managed with ease; 4 a new resident in the community who is an outsider to established social groups and who does not know 'the system' of the community; 5 a counselling client who is by definition someone in need of help.

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In each situation there is a dependency in the sense that the person is not as self-sufficient as he or she used to be, and/or might be at some time in the future. In other words, there is an implied and/or actual cry for healing, sustaining, guiding, reconciling, or a combination of those four functions of pastoral care. What place, then, does the pastor's masculinity or femininity have in ministering to the other person, whom we shall refer to as 'the dependant? The dependant may present the pastor with a perfect balance, in which sense of dependence corresponds exactly with the need which actually exists. Or, the dependant may be unaware of actual dependence, or may refuse to accept its reality, and may present the pastor with an unrealistic self-assurance or even a rather hostile facade. At the other extreme, the dependant may respond in a clinging, helpless, infantile way, giving the pastor the message that needs are far greater than they actually are. If the pastor is a woman, she may need to be particularly aware of the 'Great Mother' archetype lurking within her. As Ulanov notes, '[t]o be able to say no to another's need . . . is notoriously difficult for a woman'.13 A sort of pastoral masochism can result from an inability to say no to certain needs expressed under certain conditions by other people. The pastor walks the second mile so often that her feet bleed, when actually this seemingly pastoral attitude may simply reinforce the dependant's dependency and prevent the steps needed for growing independence. The pastor is adroitly taking care of this need to be needed. Or, if a female pastor meets resistance in the form of denial of needs when in reality needs obviously exist, and if the female pastor is not in touch with her animus, she may try to intrude (phallically) through the resistance presented by the dependant, in which case power replaces tenderness as the motive for ministry. If the pastor is a man, particularly if he is ordained, the 'Great King' ('Saviour') symbol may be the danger which corresponds to the 'Great Mother'. Or, the dependant's expressed needs—realistic or unrealistic—may trigger the pastor's own fear of having needs (rejection of his 'feminine'), resulting in overly energetic problem-solving and need-meeting by the pastor. Two brief illustrations from my professional associates further indicate how the masculine and the feminine have pastoral implications. A man whose teenage daughter had a severe sexual trauma did not share this problem with his male pastor, but did reveal it to the pastor's younger, less experienced female curate. The male chaplain at a military hospital told a female student chaplain that she would

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see a lot more tears on the wards than he did. And she did. (The patients were almost exclusively male.) What implications are suggested by these illustrations? First, a man's anima may be more easily set free to express itself in the presence of a female pastor, that is, men are more willing to reveal their 'weakness' to a woman than to a man. Second, if females attempt to model pastoral approaches after more masculine styles, they may defeat the very openness in communication they wish to establish. Third, male pastors who nurture their own anima may be better able to put males to whom they minister in touch with their feminine dimension and thus their wholeness of self.

Masculine and feminine in the Garden of Eden The fulfilment of God's purpose in creation is expressed in his desire to 'make man in our image' (Gen. 1:26). One way of stating the goal of pastoral ministry, therefore, is the attempt to restore or to sustain the image of God in another person whenever that image has been fractured, defaced, or impaired. The functions of pastoral ministry are aimed at restoring wholeness, mending brokenness, and preserving the image of God in man. Scholars have pointed out that the Hebrew word for 'man', adam, is a generic word which differentiates mankind from the animals. Thus, in the P creation narrative (Gen. l-2:4a), 'man' or 'mankind' includes both male and female. We conclude that both man and woman are created equally, though differently, in God's image. As Sapp puts it, 'in contrast to the J account, man and woman are created simultaneously in P with no hint of temporal, much less ontological, superiority'.14 Furthermore, God's creation of male and female is 'very good' (Gen. 1:31). The Creation narratives testify that man and woman are complementary; neither one's life is complete without the other; God's image is fully revealed only when both male and female are present. And God places them in a community of two, 'the community derived from God, the community of love glorifying and worshipping him as the Creator'.15 In this community, man and woman are to love by enjoying the gifts of each other and by affirming in each other the image of God which is there. They have a personal relationship, but until after the Fall, there is no pastoral ministry since the image of God in each is intact. But when pastoral ministry is needed, it will be

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equally the responsibility of man and woman; and each—created in God's image—will be equipped equally for the fulfilling of God's purposes. In the Garden of Eden, we have our first look at the masculine and the feminine. The J creation narrative (Gen. 2:4b-3:24) is very descriptive of the personal relationship between man and woman, and between mankind and God. Yet it appears that masculine and feminine characteristics are found in both man and woman. Man, for example, is portrayed as obedient, even passive. He goes where God puts him and does not do what God says he should not (2:15-17). He is also emotional, capable of a spontaneous, intimate expression: This at last is bone of my bones . . .' (2:23). Impulsively, and without weighing the consequences, he succumbs to temptation (3:6, 'and he ate'). Reluctant to face the consequences (like a man!), he tries to hide from the Lord and is swift to rationalise his cowardice and unhesitating in casting blame on the woman. Some of his actions come from postfallen and some from pre-fallen states, but man is portrayed as having a definite feminine dimension. The masculine dimension is seen in his evaluative and decision-making aspects, as he gives names to the living creatures and decides that none is a fit companion (2:19-20). Woman is portrayed as intellectually alert and aware of the limits of her creaturehood as defined by God. She knows which tree is offlimits and which ones are not. Appreciating the complexity of the situation, she is engaged in wrestling with options, principles, and risks. Eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is prohibited, but since God created the tree to produce fruit good for food, he must have intended the fruit to be eaten. Woman takes charge and decides. In these respects, she demonstrates characteristics more usually associated with masculinity. Yet her femininity is there—she appreciates aesthetics—the tree is lovely. Further, she has higher motives, the yearning for wisdom. On a much higher plane than man's impulsive disobedience, woman is 'the victim of the desire for infinity'.16 Of course, in her fallen state she is no better than man—she, too, tries to hide from God and to shift responsibility from herself by blaming the serpent. Outside of the presence of the Holy Spirit in human interactions, the most crucial single factor in the effectiveness of pastoral ministry is the person of the pastor. In the Creation narratives we find a variety of personal characteristics (though not a complete catalogue by any means) which can be affirmed as important when one person ministers to the needs of another in a pastoral way, and these

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characteristics are not restricted to males or females; a pastor, either male or female, clergy or lay, may exhibit any of these characteristics. Where present they can be nurtured and strengthened; where weak or absent, they may be compensated for or developed. We may identify the characteristics as follows: 1 to be aware of one's own needs 2 to know proper boundaries 3 to exercise self-discipline 4 to be capable of emotional responses and bonding 5 to be able to evaluate objective data 6 to know one's own motives 7 to be able to make decisions and to abide with the consequences 8 to assume responsibility for one's own actions 9 to be sensitive to one's surroundings 10 to have a perceptive mind 11 to wish for and to seek a deeper knowledge of God and his ways 12 to think about and to do what is good for the other person Adam and Eve were not only husband and wife. They were pastors to each other. Had they ministered pastorally to each other as God intended, we would not need all of the tending and mending which pastoral ministry today requires to restore the image of God in men and women. One final observation has to do with the shame felt by man and woman when they became aware of their nakedness after the Fall. Their sin was pride, of seeking to become 'like God' (3:5), not a matter of sexual consciousness. As God had created them, man and woman had a full awareness of their own and each other's sexuality, of their respective masculine and feminine natures. They knew that each needed the other, and they accepted this complementariness. Terrien states that man and woman after the Fall 'are ashamed of one another'17 Bonhoeffer, on the other hand, attributes the shame to the man's and the woman's 'reluctant acknowledgment' of their limitedness18—the grace of complementariness is transformed by sin into a self-centred resentment of each one's incomplete nature, of each one's desire to be complete without the other. A somewhat different interpretation would allow the truth of both positions while restating the issue in different terminology: in the Fall, man became ashamed of that part of his total self represented by woman (his feminine part of completeness—his anima), and woman became ashamed of that part of her total self represented by man (her masculine part of completeness—her animus). Thus it is part of the

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recreation of the image of God in man that he recover an unashamed affirmation of the feminine in himself, and of the image of God in woman that she recover an unashamed affirmation of the masculine in herself. The pastoral ministry has been exercised predominantly by ordained or monastic males on behalf of the laity, either males or females, and this has resulted in a quite natural lack of concern about the effects of masculinity and femininity in the pastor and in the one who is cared for. I wish to propose that because of the particular character of pastoral ministry—personal, by nature relational, often intimate, private, and emotion-laden—it is especially important to discover the effects of masculinity and femininity in this ministry. The Jungian theory of the human psyche provides a framework in conjunction with which to make this exploration. The male pastor in touch with his anima and the female pastor in touch with her animus will be better able to do pastoral ministry because they can affirm femininity along with maleness and masculinity along with femaleness. A more whole person is better able to help another person to become more whole. For the pastor, the second great commandment could then be interpreted, '. . . love your neighbour as you love yourself, including that part of yourself which is your contrasexual element'.

15 Christian conversion and the feminine TONY KELLY

First, a definition of terms. By Christian conversion I mean the fundamental dynamism of Christian existence. No one is once and for all 'converted'. One follows the Way of Christ by embarking on a journey, the existential journey of faith, hope and love. To be always open to the truth of what one believes in, to the full promise of what one hopes for, to the unrestricted goodness of what one loves, to fullest collaboration with those with whom one believes and hopes and loves—all this means a continuing process of conversion. No one is converted alone, not for long, anyway. To be converted, turned out of oneself toward that Universal Love revealed in Christ, is to be turned toward others who, one way or another, support or occasion one's growth in conversion. Typically, these others are our sisters and brothers in the Church, the neighbour who represents Christ calling us to a special love, and even the enemy who tests the realism of the unconditional love one is supposed to be living. It is always a conversion mediated by being with others, and interacting with them, in shared prayer and celebration, in mutual love, in common concern for an ever wider world, in dialogue when one meets differences, in conflict if rejection or persecution be one's lot. In one way or another, we interact to inspire and challenge to a greater individual and communal conversion. Conversion is a movement into what no eye has seen nor ear heard nor the human heart conceived. Though we move within a mystery of grace, it still 'has not yet appeared what we shall be' (1 Jn 3:2). We never lay hold of the full mystery of God—whom no one has ever seen (Jn 1:18); nor, it would appear, can we ever exhaust the fullness of our shared humanity, made, as it is, in the divine image: 'Let us make 175

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man in our image and likeness .. . male and female he created them' (Gen. 1:27). Conversion, in our context, then, is an ongoing communal development from what is opposed to Christian authenticity or less than what should be, to what accords with such authenticity and promotes it: in this case, the Feminine. What do I mean by the Feminine? I am not unaware of the number and complexity of the issues connoted by this word. It is a problematical term. It might seem too vague to those concerned directly with 'womens' issues'. It might seem too bland for a 'feminist viewpoint'. It will probably be understood as too psychological and interior in view of the decisions to be taken by those who are concerned with a more inclusive humanity and a greater Christian wholeness. Nonetheless, I will keep it. It at least points in a direction. Perhaps there is some merit in not wanting to define the Feminine too quickly, but to let its meaning emerge in its proper originality and persuasiveness. At the least, it is an emblematic term for that new depth and breadth of creativity demanded by any alert Christian commitment today. And, as I hope to make clear, it is a dimension of conversion particularly urgent in this precarious and challenging present. The Feminine, be it an essential human dimension or a particular human value, occurs in different ways to different people. In one sense, it does not occur as the most urgent issue of the day. I would see that as the very survival of the human race—given the growing threat of thermonuclear destruction, the unimaginable scale of world poverty and starvation, the oppression of whole nations by inhuman regimes, the ecological crisis, the murderously unjust distribution of the world's resources, the arms race: all the elements that put into jeopardy our human future, and call forth a common responsibility. At such a point of crisis, an insight into the value of the Feminine (however elusive it might remain) occurs. For one thing becomes clear: the world as we have known it is coming to an end. One way or another, it is ending: if we don't change, it will end in some enormous self-destruction. If we do change for the sake of human survival and development, it will be in the making of a world in great contrast to the way things are now. For the world that is passing has been, by and large, brought into existence by the thinking and decisions, the plans and the actions, the exploits and exploitations, the conquests and conflicts, the morality and philosophy of men. In the public world of history, it has been a world largely populated by men. They were the

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main actors on the world stage, recorded in a history written by men about men for men. If women did appear, it was, at best, in a supporting role; or because, by accident or genius, they did what men did, remarkably well. More usually, be it in art or religion, philosophy or science, government or education, conflict and exploration, they were behind the scenes. Admittedly it would be silly to overload this general statement (however true I believe it to be) with a further generalisation implying that women were innocent and men were villains. For, on the one hand, women often consented to and inspired the selfdestructive course of history. On the other, there was in this 'man's world' an abundance of goodness and heroism, grandeur, beauty and achievement; and above all, the beginnings of a justice that was waiting for its day. Men did love in their own way: they loved the Helen whose face launched their thousand ships. They loved the Eve who was their helpmate and mother of their children. They loved the Mary who was the mother of the Saviour of the world. They loved the Hagia Sophia, the Holy Wisdom, who intimated herself to them in flickering visions of something infinitely luminous, gentle, compassionate and all-comprehending which could never be enclosed or controlled within scope of their world (Ws. 8:1-9:6). Their love was, however, marked with a failure: by idealising their women out of their world, they disallowed the creative presence of the real women of the world in the formation of what they assumed was theirs, by right or responsibility. They did not hear the unsettling question that women implicitly stood for, and often explicitly put: is all this really the best that we human beings can do? Yes, we loved. But if we are to continue to love, it must be on other terms, terms far more inclusive of the creativity, dignity and sheer reality of women than we had dreamt of before. But now as we stand on the brink, all of us, with men offered the knowledge that their limited best was not good enough, the Feminine emerges as an essential dimension of any future we might share. If our first breath is a prayer of hope that a human future will be given us, our second breath utters a request, at once timid and desperate, to the women in whom some passionate unfamiliar spirit is stirring: For all our sakes, can you teach us to sow peace where we have reaped, harvest after harvest, of war? Can you teach us to rejoin the totality of the human race even though we have collapsed into hopeless, competitive divisiveness? Can you teach us wisdom to use all this power science has discovered for the common good? Can you lead us to a Holy

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Mystery which, despite all, might give meaning and hope, even though we have come to a dead-end in a bleak, God-forsaken no-man's land? Such, then, is one way in which the Feminine emerges in male consciousness. It occurs at that limit where men, individually and communally, know that they are limited, especially in the face of an uncanny and threatening future. To this degree, it occurs as an act of hope, and a plea for forgiveness—it does not mean a new phase in the idealisation or divinisation of women. God remains God. But any act of hope in God today seems to send us hack to an exploration of our fundamental biblical faith. That reveals that God is present in our world in the full grace of our humanness, not in some half-human version of it: 'Let us make human beings in our image and likeness . . . male and female he created them' (Gen. 1:26,27). For men to experience the question of the Feminine in the way I have tried to evoke it, has this advantage. If the Feminine is an essential aspect of hope for the future, men are, as it were, defined into the emergence of the Feminine, as relying on it, needing it, being led by it, finding themselves through it. Thus it does not occur in the destructive way of one more alienation in the current breakdown. It is rather a sign of life and new beginning. What is at stake is the whole of humanity and its future. The liberation of the Feminine is an expansion within history toward a more hopeful and whole humanity. To put it more simply, I see it not as what they (women) are telling us (men), but what you (women—personally addressed) are calling all of us to discover together—precisely at the point where an uncritical and half-human masculinity has come to the end of its resources. This is far from being a negation of male worth. I am not advocating some form of psychic or historical sex-change. No, I am envisaging a more hopeful and, indeed, more playful, exchange between the sexes, where, at the beginning of something quite new in human history, women will be free to speak and act and lead. What we need is a truly human conversation. In such an exchange, men will not feel that they disappear if they listen or if they are led. For they will be hearing a more richly human word, just as they are being invited into a fuller expression of their masculinity within a more integrally human world. 'Affirmative action' is not emasculation. It is humanisation. Of course, it means letting go of the narrow isolated styles of former sex roles. That will be hard. But so are the deeply destructive violent

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ways of the present, hard. There are no easy options. Hope can never envisage its outcome. Here, as elsewhere, 'it has not yet appeared what we shall be' (1 Jn 3:2). To that degree, it is experienced as a risk. Nonetheless, men and women will, one might predict, still keep on making love. Do they have anything to fear if it is more personal? Conversion and the Feminine, in this present context, comes to mean, in practice, conversion to the Feminine. No one would dispute that this is a complex and many-levelled movement of heart and mind, with the implications of both a journey inward and outward. As a religious word, 'conversion' implies primarily a turning to God, a new relationship with the ultimately Holy. But that level of faith has intellectual and moral components: intellectual, because it is not a conversion to anything at all, or to nothing, or to an illusion, but to the ultimate truth which faith apprehends; moral, because any relationship to the Holy affects one's being and action in the world: If God so loved us, we ought to love one another' (1 Jn 4:11). Further, because such a conversion has religious, intellectual and moral components, it necessarily deeply affects one's psychic being, how one feels about oneself, one's worth, one's destiny. Conversion to the Feminine, then, includes at least these four interrelated levels of further openness: the religious, the intellectual, the moral, the psychological. It enlarges that historical horizon which, for centuries if not millennia, has limited our cultural experience of God, privileged the masculine in our understanding of reality, locked our morality into the ethical concerns of a male-centred world, and made women feel their identity to be somehow dependent on, and subservient to, the male—in whom the true glory and splendour of the human condition was presumed to be embodied. It is not usual in the vast literature on the Feminine to find these four levels distinctly or comprehensively treated. For that reason, in what follows, I shall offer some account of each of them. Whatever the Feminine means, or however one might come to define it, a great deal will be lost if it is not recognised as a dimension of our experience of God, a question of objective truth, an issue of a more global morality, and an appropriation of a more wholesome psychological integrity.

Religious conversion to the Feminine Here it is a matter of negating a notion of 'God' elaborated in exclusive patriarchal and male terms to affirm the Holy Mystery

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through a more inclusive symbolism, both female and male. The True God is not a patriarchal idol but the One in whom our most complete humanity finds its hope. Anyone in the Judaeo-Christian tradition who has given any thought to the matter has always known that God is beyond any objective expression. The Mystery is neither 'he' nor 'she' nor 'it', but the 'You' that fills the horizon of life. This 'You' means, loves and enables our communal and individual being and freedom, in life, in death, and beyond death. The only language finally worth anything is interpersonal language, T and 'we' addressing and listening to the 'You' in whom we exist and blossom into being. Still, even the greatest mystics eventually speak. And when they do, they are faced with the problem of how to mean, in word and in ritual, who it is that loves them. Typically, they go through the whole repertoire of human experience if their words are not to fail altogether, calling God 'friend', 'father', 'mother', 'spouse', 'saviour', 'rock', 'fortress', 'life-giver', 'fire', 'breath'. . . But words are carriers of meaning, and meaning arises out of the experiences of history. So it is of some importance, for those who live in the tradition of biblical faith, to take notice not only of the words that are the vocabulary of that tradition, but to the experience out of which such words arise. The biblical tradition is manifestly marked by a powerful patriarchal culture. That is a matter of fact. What is a matter of surprise is the manner in which biblical faith breaks free from such a culture to express new divinely willed possibilities for human existence. It is a matter of regret that we have been so slow to follow such a lead. On the level of scholarship, we could hardly do better than to follow Elizabeth Schussler-Fiorenza's researches. I cannot reproduce her scholarship here, but the following quotation indicates the direction of her thought: Although Jewish (and Christian) theology speaks about God in male language and images, it nevertheless insists that such language and images are not adequate 'pictures' of the divine, and that human language and experience are not capable of beholding or expressing God's reality. The second commandment and the unspeakable holiness of God's name are very concrete expressions of this insistence. To fix God to a definite form and man-made image would mean idolatry. Classical prophetic theology, often in abusive language, polemicized against the pagan idols and thus rejected goddess worship, but it did not do so in defence of a male God and a patriarchal idol. By rejecting

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all other gods, prophetic theology insisted on the oneness of Israel's God and of God's creation. It therefore rejected the myth of the 'divine couple', and thus repudiated masculinity and femininity as absolute ultimate divine principles. But in so doing, it did not quite escape the patriarchal understanding of God, insofar as it transferred the image of the divine marriage to the relationship of Yahweh and Israel who is seen as his wife and bride.1 But there is another tradition in Israel's effort to evoke the meaning of its experience of the Divine. This is usually called 'Wisdom Theology', in which the dominant characteristic of God is Sophia (wisdom), not only a feminine word, but one connoting many aspects of the Feminine (for example, mother, bride, beloved, sister, healer, creator, artist. . .). This style of monotheistic theology is not intent on distancing itself from pagan nature-religions and fertility cults. It is an inclusive theology. It attempts to evoke the all-pervasive, allcomprehending and creative presence of God in all histories and cultures—even if 'She' dwells uniquely in Israel.2 This Holy Wisdom is a compassionate Spirit (Ws. 1:6). She comes to the one who prays, 'bringing all good things with her' (Ws. 7:11). Of all such graces, 'she is the Mother' (Ws. 7:12). She is 'more beautiful than the sun . . . she reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other, and orders all things well' (Ws. 7:29-8:1). Fiorenza comes up with the plausible suggestion that Jesus understood his ministry, and even his identity, in the light of this Holy Wisdom 'who is vindicated in all her children' (Lk 7:35): The Palestinian Jesus movement understands the ministry and mission of Jesus as that of the prophet and child of Sophia sent to announce that God is the God of the poor and heavy laden, of the outcasts and those who suffer injustice . . . he stands in a long line and succession of prophets sent to gather the children of Israel to their gracious Sophia God. Jesus' execution, like John's, results from his mission and commitment as prophet and emissary of the Sophia-God who holds open a future for the poor and the outcasts and offers God's gracious goodness to all children of Israel without exception. The Sophia-God of Jesus does not need atonement of sacrifices. Jesus' death is not willed by God but is the result of his all- inclusive praxis as Sophia's prophet.3 Take for example just two instances of the character of the God Jesus involves in his 'all-inclusive praxis'. Jesus invokes God as Abba

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and acts in the power of the Holy Spirit, to inaugurate the new human family of which he is the centre: ties of blood or social stratification are of no account, but 'whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother' (Mk 3:35). Any patriarchal classification of human beings is excluded: on the human level, there is no mention of 'fathers'! Second, in his injunction against patriarchal roles, Jesus underscores the reality of the community of equals which the Kingdom of God brings about: 'Call no one rabbi. . . father . . . master' (Mt. 23:8-11). Relying on Fiorenza's scholarship and the work of many others who move in the same direction, it is possible to conclude that Jesus invokes God as Abba (Father), in his unique idiom, not to justify patriarchal structures and relationships, but precisely to contest such enslaving human classifications.4 Another fruitful approach to freeing 'God' from fixated or congealed male imagery is to consider the character of the Holy Spirit. There may be some future in envisaging the Christian experience of God as implying the formation of a new humanity: Jesus is the new Adam (hardly unbiblical; see 1 Cor. 15:45) with the Spirit as the New Eve, possessing and inspiring Israel, Mary and the Church, forming this new humanity with all the virtualities of maternal, spousal and virginal love. For the Spirit, in Christian understanding, is preeminently the Gift. This resonates with a certain maternal symbolism, for as one writer puts it, '[n]othing on earth is "given" to us as our mother is: she personifies love in its most disinterested, generous and devoted form'.5 So, despite this extremely cursory indication of the play of feminine and masculine symbols in our relationship to God, and of God's to us, I hope this much might be clear. Any continuing religious conversion must be free to explore the whole range of sexual symbolism if our experience of the Holy Mystery is to be genuine. If through male and female symbolism we celebrate the God of our humanity, it must make a difference: our sexuality will be more totally and playfully engaged in the experience of Ultimate Love, with considerable advantage to woman, man. . . and God!

Intellectual conversion to the Feminine Conversion to God is not a turning to unreality. It means taking a position in a real world in the light of the ultimate truth and meaning disclosed in the experience of faith. Now, if such a faith has

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(re)discovered dimensions of the Feminine in Ultimate Reality, the integrity of that faith provokes a more intelligent and critical exploration of the meaning of the Feminine within one's philosophical and scientific tradition. It is at this point that we discover the masculine bias in the classical traditions of philosophy which have usually nourished the expression of faith. Such key figures in the history of Christian theology as Augustine and Thomas Aquinas inherited and transmitted a powerful Greek philosophy (Plato and Aristotle) which did less than justice to the reality of the Feminine. For a full account of this I would refer to the research of Kari Elizabeth Borresen.6 In Greek metaphysics, form and act were identified with the male principle, while the female mode of being was always depicted as 'un-formed', the material component, the passive, receptive principle. Higher reason contemplating the eternal was identified with a male nature, and lower, practical reason was identified with the feminine. In the various theological transpositions that occurred in the light of this philosophy, (though it was always acknowledged that men and women were of equal spiritual dignity) the male was more immediately made 'in the image of God', since the male principle was the active one, and male nature was the most perfect form of human nature. It is true that no serious thinker today (let alone anyone with a knowledge of modern biology) would take this model of relationships between the sexes very seriously, despite its long and powerful influence. On the other hand, to conceive of the female-male relationship in terms of an easy, uncritical mutuality or complementarity does not really close with the issue either. This is often the language of men and women who are beginning to see the problem. What still remains obscured is that women are offered a complementarity to the male in a male-dominated or 'androcentric' world. What we need, and what is beginning to take place, is a rethinking of human sexual existence in which the woman, for example, is not a half-human being (even 'the better half), not just a complement to the male, but a feminine person possessing an irreducible value in her openness to the transcendent, the undefinable fullness of existence, whether or not she exists in a particular category of relationship to a man or not. There is something absolute, that is, not relative, to the male, in feminine existence which has to be recognised before female-male relationships can be a true meeting of persons. I have found a number of examples of how this is beginning to be explored in an impressive way.7

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Moral conversion to the Feminine Christian faith assents to the true in order to promote the doing of good. 'Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother' (Mk 3:35). This moral dimension of conversion to the Feminine is to some degree obvious and reasonable—an issue of straight justice, human rights, the abolition of anti-feminine structures and attitudes. But, it seems to me, the Christian authenticity that prompts us to risk all for the sake of the Kingdom of God demands another level of response from women and men, but in different ways. This turns on that essentially Christian activity of forgiveness. Let it be noted that the real meaning of this kind of forgiveness does not reside in a soft-hearted, soft-headed smoothing over of the evidence of real evil—a kind of pretence that it never was really evil in the first place. Certainly, Christian forgiveness is about an unlimited hope in the triumph of an ultimate mercy and healing; but this is realistically expressed in naming and recognising evil for what it is: the confession of sin in oneself and a call to repentance with regard to others. It is part of a process by which we refuse to let ourselves, or others, be eternally defined by failure, malice, wrongdoing of any kind—'Father forgive . . . as we forgive . . .'. In our present context, if we are to envisage a new level of creative and hopeful communication between women and men, the issue of forgiveness has to be faced. For men, first of all: 'Bless me, Sisters, for I have sinned!' It is not an attitude or an expression readily suggested to men in a man's world. It appears utterly foolish and weak. It feels like giving in, and it does amount to giving up the way things (however inhumanly) were. But it is on such a foolishness and weakness that the mystery of new life has always been based (1 Cor. 1:20-26). This does not imply a pretence that each man has been guilty of all the violence, exploitation, humiliation and oppression that women have suffered from men throughout history. But it does imply that each individual does exist in a mysterious archetypal solidarity with the members of his or her sex—a matter that women today seem to understand more clearly than men. Here I am thinking of the enormous significance of 'the significant women' who have inspired new possibilities in the lives of thousands of their sisters. So, as he speaks for himself and in solidarity with all his brothers, I think it is time for each man to find the freedom to ask forgiveness of the women with whom he finds himself in conversation. Popes need to

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do it, politicians need to do it; so do husbands, priests, brothers, friends, doctors, lawyers, teachers . . . This is the one act that really expresses for us men a commitment to, and a hope for, something radically new. If I see it only as a futile humiliation, then perhaps it is time to ask myself how precarious, despairing and isolated my world has become. Admittedly, it is a hope and a risk, not a command or a requirement—let alone a subtle strategy for disarming feminine anger or for taming the passion for the as yet undefinable 'new'. Still, need it be a manipulation for men to hope that they will be forgiven? On a few occasions, I have tried to express this much: unless women do forgive (eventually) they will not have the unique healing and creativity that comes from forgiving: they will be more trapped within themselves than any single act of male malice could bring about. Without forgiving, they will always be reacting against the past at the expense of acting for the future . . . Unless women find the freedom to forgive, won't they merely parallel all the inhumanities that men have been guilty of?—seeking for power, acting without loving, regarding the opposite sex as inimical and inferior, a means for providing heirs or extending possessions, as an occasion of sin or a means of recreation? Forgiveness makes a more hopeful humanity possible. I suspect, too, that it is the secret source of humour, that ability that so many women have to tease our solemn male posturing into a more real communication, so to suggest a sense of proportion, of what is human and what could be so ...

Psychological conversion to the Feminine Because this conversion implies a new dimension in one's relationship with God, because it implies a new exploration of reality, because it demands a new hopeful and healing moral stance, it implies a new quality of self-possession. It affects one's sense of self and one's estimate of the worth of that self. For this conversion is not only a movement outward but a journey inward, to reclaim and to 're-member' the fuller self that an uncritical or un-Christian masculinity has forced us to disown. Since Freud was conspicuously incapable of expressing or perhaps appreciating the Feminine, it is Jungian psychology that pretty well dominates this 'journey inward'. In terms of specifically Christian

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conversion, one significant aspect of Ye-membering' the human psyche is the recovery of Christian history, especially in its origins. This takes place in instances as diverse as the sheer recognition of the status and number of women in the early Church at all levels of leadership;8 the revolutionary liberating attitude of Jesus in regard to women; the Gospels' presentation of women as 'first among the faithful' in the occurrence and the quality of faith;9 and the pervasive use, in the New Testament, of feminine symbolism to describe the divine-human relationships. I can do no better than refer the reader to Fiorenza and Moloney on these matters. The point is that biblical scholarship is providing us with a 'dangerous memory' of the presence and worth of the Feminine in the original Church, both in symbolic terms and in the history of the actual women who were 'mothers of the church'. A willingness to remember the past in the collapse of the patriarchal present, and to accept that memory as a grace and an invitation amounts to a psychological conversion.

Notes

Introduction 1 Tony Kelly Seasons of Hope Blackburn, Vic.: Dove Communications, 1984, p. 95 2 Miriam Dixson The Real Matilda 2nd edn, Penguin Australia, 1984, p. 241 3 Jill Conway 'Gender in Australia' Daedalus 114, 1, 1985, pp. 343-68 4 Dixson The Real Matilda p. 241 5 Magdalene 4, December 1982, p. 13 6 Dixson The Real Matilda p. 241 7 Enquiry Into The Status Of Women In The Church: Commission On The Status Of Women Australian Council of Churches (NSW), 1974, p. 4 8 Dixson The Real Matilda pp. 241-42 9 ibid. p. 242 10 In Unity 32, 1, 1985, p. 12 11 Dixson The Real Matilda p. 242 12 To be passed a bill must receive approval from two-thirds of the bishops, priests and laity voting separately. Though a majority were in favour, it failed these requirements 13 Hester Eisenstein Contemporary Feminist Thought London and Sydney: Unwin Paperbacks, 1984, p. 60

1 Woman and the Church: Her story 1 Aristotle Generation of Animals II, 732a, 738b, 727b, 729a, 731a 2 Tony Kelly 'Restoring the feminine in our image of God: Liberation from the half human' National Outlook July 1983 187

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3 ibid 4 ibid 5 Elizabeth Fiorenza 'You are not to be called Father: Early Christian history in a feminist perspective' Cross Currents 29, 3, 1979, pp. 301-323 6 P. and D. O'Farrell The status of women: Some opinions in Australian Catholic history' Bulletin of Christian Affairs Special, 1977 7 Walter M. Abbott SJ (ed.) The Documents of Vatican II London: Chapman, 1966 8 B. Pitman, B. Johnstone, H. O'Leary, I. Hay, A. O'Hagen 'Current Focus: Declaration on the question of the admission of women to the Ministerial Priesthood' Compass Theology Review II Winter, 1977 9 Robert Banks 'The early church as a caring community and some implications for social work today' Interchange 30, Sydney: AFES Graduate fellowship, 1982 10 Irene Brennan 'Women in the Kingdom of God' The Month: A review of Christian Thought and World Affairs 13, 12, 1980 pp. 414-17 11 Banks 'The early church as a caring community'

2 The role of the Church in the education of girls and women 1 Constance Parvey (ed.) The Community of Women and Men in the Church Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1983 2 William Barclay Educational Ideas in the Ancient World London: Collins, 1959 3 James Donaldson Woman: Her position and influence in Ancient Greece and Rome and among Early Christians London: Longman's, Green & Co, 1907 4 ibid. p. 158 5 Tertullian De Baptismo cxvii and Ad Uxorem 6 See also Lina Eckenstein The Women of Early Christianity London: The Faith Press, 1935 7 A.F. Leach Educational Charters and Documents Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1911 and A.F. Leach Schools of Medieval England London, Methuen, 1916 8 John Lawson Medieval education and the Reformation London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1967

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9 Eileen Power Medieval English Nunneries Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1922 10 Leach, Educational Charters and Documents 11 Sheila Fletcher Feminists and Bureaucrats London: Methuen 1981 12 H.C. Barnard The French Tradition in Education Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1922 and S.J. Curtis and M. Boultwood, History of Educational Ideas, London: University Tutorial Press, 1966 13 W.A. Campbell-Stuart Quakers and Education Epworth: Epworth Press, 1953 14 ibid 15 June Rose Elizabeth Fry London: Macmillan, 1980, chapter 1 16 Aubrey Richardson Women of the Church of England London: Chapman & Hall, 1908, p. 137 17 For further reading on the Sunday School movement, see Letters of Hannah More London: Bodley Head, 1925; Charles Birchenough History of Elementary Education London: University Tutorial Press, 1938; Richardson Women of the Church of England', L.B. Walford 'Hannah More' in Four Biographies London: W. Blackwood & Sons, 1888, for introductory material, and M.G. Jones Hannah More Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1952 18 See for example Josephine Kamm How Different From Us London: The Bodley Head, 1958; Barry Turner Equality for Some London: Ward Lock Educational, 1974; Josephine Kamm Hope Deferred London: Methuen, 1965; E. Raikes Dorothea Beale of Cheltenham London: Constable, 1908; Barbara Stephen Emily Davies and Girton College London: Constable, 1927; Sarah Burstall Frances Mary Buss London: SPCK, 1938 19 Christian Observer 1812 pp. 738-41, First report of the National Society for promoting the Education of the Poor in the Principles of the Established Church throughout England and Wales. The National Society was, with the parallel British and Foreign School Society founded by Lancaster (a Nonconformist), the main systemic provider of elementary education until the state took over in 1870 20 'On Lord Sandon's Bill' in The Church Quarterly Review April-July 1876, vol. 2, London 21 R.L. Archer Secondary Education in the Nineteenth Century Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1928

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22 Cheltenham Ladies College Magazine, 1906 23 Raikes Dorothea Beale 24 Blanche Clough A Memoir of Anne Jemima Clough London: Edward Arnold, 1903 25 Fletcher Feminists and Bureaucrats 26 Peter Anson The Call of the Cloister London: SPCK, 1964 27 ibid. p. 138 28 ibid. p. 303 29 Church Quarterly Review 1876, pp. 60-61 30 Eileen M. Byrne Equality of Education and Training for Girls Brussels: Commission of the European Communities, Studies, Education Series 9, 1979 31 It is not generally recognised that statistically, women and girls are at present 50.8 per cent of the world's total population and men and boys 49.2 per cent. To classify women as 'a minority' is as inaccurate statistically as it is conceptually

3 Sexism and fundamentalism 1 C.M. Clark History of Australia vol. 1, Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1968, p. 75 2 Gabriel Herbert Fundamentalism and The Church of God London: SCM, 1957, p. 17 3 Patricia Grimshaw 'Women and the Family in Australian History' in Elizabeth Windshuttle (ed.) Women, Class and History: Feminine Perspectives on Australia, 1788-1978 Fontana-Collins, Australia, 1980, pp. 37-52

4 The ordination of women: On whose side is the Bible? 1 For supporting evidence for this summary of New Testament teaching about women see my book Women and their Ministry Melbourne: Dove Communications, 1977, chapter 1 (henceforth WTM) 2 This is explained later in the essay in the discussion about the teaching on the subordination of women. 3 In any case the argument that the twelve apostles are the prototype of all future ministers is without substance. A valiant attempt to prove this was made in K.E. Kirk (ed.) The Apostolic Ministry London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1946, but despite its enthusiastic reception by Anglo-Catholics, the passing of time

Notes

4 5 6 7 8 9 10

11

12 13

191

has shown that the central thesis of the book is invalid. The apostles are not the prototypes of all future ministers nor do they institute 'the ministry' of the church. In the New Testament many forms of leadership emerged, most of them without apostolic direction WTM pp. 55-58 ibid. pp. 29-41 Whereas the case against equality of opportunity in ministry for women does not Jezebel is condemned as a false prophetess. She is not condemned because as a woman she prophesied The teacher expounds apostolic teaching while the prophet proclaims the Word of the Lord as it has been personally revealed to him When gifts of ministry are listed the order is normally apostle, prophet, teacher. See 1 Cor. 12:28, Eph. 4:11 Miriam (Ex. 15:20, Mic. 6:4); Deborah (Jud. 4:5)—a married woman; Huldah (2 Kings 22:8-20) also married; Isaiah's wife (Is. 8:3), Noadiah (Neh. 6:14); Anna (Luke 2:36:38). The rabbis, who usually had a very low view of women, held that 'Forty-eight prophets and seven prophetesses prophesied in Israel' (b. Meg. 14a Bar). It is interesting that Dr R.A. Cole (Prophet Priest and Pastor, Sydney, AIO, 1970) who argues that the office of prophet is the prototype of today's ordained full-time ministry does not, on this basis, go on to argue for the ordination of women See WTM pp. 34-35 and especially B. Brooten 'Junia . . . Outstanding Among the Apostles Rom. 16:7' in L. and A. Swidler (eds) Women Priests. A Catholic Commentary on the Vatican Declaration, New York: Paulist Press, 1977, pp. 141-44. She notes that Chrysostom, Origen, Jerome, Theophylact and Peter Abelard, to mention a few, all accepted that Paul was here speaking of a woman apostle It could even be that 1 Cor. 14:34-35 is a non-Pauline interpolation. Many New Testament scholars hold this view. See WTM pp. 59-60 See the whole discussion in WTM pp. 65-70. It is important to point out that there is no command here to women to maintain absolute silence in church. The word so often translated 'silent' in v. 11-12 means 'quiet' in the sense of tranquil or peaceful. This is how it is translated in v. 2 of this same chapter and in several other places in the NT. The interpretation given is not without its

192

14 15

16 17 18 19 20 21

22

23

The force of the feminine problems, but some believe the passage so clearly contradicts Paul's stance seen elsewhere that the great apostle of liberty could not have written 1 and 2 Timothy and Titus (the so-called Pastoral Epistles). The Pauline authorship of these three letters, it is to be pointed out, has been frequently questioned in the last hundred years by scholars John Stott The Preacher's Portrait London, 1961, pp. 9-28. Dr Stott cogently agrees that the preacher has no authority himself—all authority lies in God's work But it can be understood in some ways, for while Paul would not condone authoritarian leadership among men or women he is like most men more upset by the latter. It was abhorrent to his mind that women should domineer over men in this way. His arguments to support this point are not very profound, as Calvin (see his comments on 1 Tim. 2:12, quoted in WTM p. 69) pointed out. That woman was created second or sinned first seems to have had little significance for Paul. Elsewhere Paul makes Adam the chief sinner. (In Gen. 1 Man is created last. Does this place him under the animals?) Here we need to remember that 'minister' means servant or slave. 'Rector', which means ruler, is its antonym, not its synonym See my study, The Order of creation and the Subordination of Women' Interchange 23, 1978, pp. 175-98 I take this point from Leon Morris The Ministry of Women' in A Woman's Place Sydney, AIO, 1976, p. 27 On this see especially V.R. Mollenkott Women, Men and the Bible Nashville: Abingdon, 1977, pp. 9-50 See WTM, pp. 79-83 See first of all the most authoritative Greek Lexicon, H.D. Liddle and R. Scott A Greek-English Lexicon Oxford: OUP, 1953, p. 945. Also S. Bedale The Meaning of kephale in the Pauline Epistles' JTS 5,1954, pp. 211-15. In Greek and Hebrew thought decisionmaking took place in the heart So C.K. Barrett The First Epistle to the Corinthians, London: A. & C. Black, 1968, pp. 248-50; F.F. Bruce 1 & 2 Corinthians London: Oliphants, 1971, pp. 103-6. See also L. Morris The Ministry of Women' p. 25 One of the best discussions on this passage is R. and J. Boldrey Chauvinist or Feminist: Paul's View of Women Grand Rapids: Baker, 1976, pp. 33-40

Notes

193

24 The argument that all women or all wives should be excluded from ministry solely because of their supposed subordinate status is seen, apart from these biblical reasons, to be a piece of invalid logic simply because the idea is not universally applied. The Bible subordinates sons and daughters, no matter their age to their parents, citizens to their rulers and young men to older men (1 Pet. 5:5), while the Anglican Church subordinates deacons and priests to bishops, whom they must promise to obey. But we hear no one arguing that sons should not be ordained while their parents are alive or that no one should preach in the presence of a leader in society or someone older or a priest before a bishop 25 WTM pp. 93-96

5 The ordination of women: The position of the Catholic Church 1 'Declaration on the Question of the Admission of Women to the Ministerial Priesthood' in L. and A. Swidler Women Priests: A Catholic Commentary on the Vatican Declaration New York: Paulist Press, 1977, p. 38 2 K. Rahner Theological Investigations vol. 20, London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1981, p. 37 3 ibid. pp. 38ff 4 John R. Donahue 'A Tale of Two Documents' in L. and A. Swidler (eds) Women Priests p. 30 5 K. Rahner Theological Investigations p. 40 6 Such as: 'In the Pauline Letters, exegetes of authority have noted a difference between two formulae used by the Apostle: he writes indiscriminately "my fellow workers" (Rom 16:3; Phil 4:2-3) when referring to men and women helping him in his apostolate in one way or another; but he reserves the title "God's fellow workers" (1 Cor 3:9; or 1 Thess 3:2) to Apollos, Timothy and himself, thus designated because they are directly set apart for the apostolic ministry and the preaching of the Word of God', Declaration, 17. The 'exegetes of authority' are not named 7 Cf. L. and A. Swidler (eds) Women Priests p. 25 8 Lumen Gentium 12 9 Declaration 4 10 Decree on Ecumenism 4 11 Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry (BEM), World Council of Churches, Geneva, 1982, section 54, p. 32

194 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

The force of the feminine ibid. Commentary, 18, p. 7 ibid, x ibid. 54, p. 32 Quoted in Pro Mundi Vita Bulletin 83, October 1980, p. 8 Cf. L. Hay The Interrelation of Mysteries' (DS 3016) Compass Theology Review 11, 1977, pp. 35-37 Pro Mundi Vita Bulletin 83, October 1980, p. 8 Declaration 39 ibid. p. 40 Rahner Theological Investigations p. 47

6 The ordination of women: A psychological interpretation of the objections 1 Louis Bouyer 'Woman priests' L'Osservatore Romano 20 Jan 1977 pp. 5, 10; Louis Bouyer 'Christian priesthood and woman* in Peter Moore (ed.) Man, Woman and Priesthood London: SPCK, 1978 2 Hans Urs von Balthasar The uninterrupted tradition of the Church' L'Osservatore Romano 24 February 1977, pp. 6-7 3 Rose McDermott Internal ministry and legislation in the church today' Review for Religious 38, 2, 1979, p. 253 4 Robert L. Kinast 'The ordination of women: acceptable doctrinal development?' Review for Religious 37, 6, 1978 5 Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith Declaration on the Question of the Admission of Women to the Ministerial Priesthood Rome, 1976, p. 13 6 Rosemary Ruether New Woman/New Earth Melbourne: Dove Communications, 1975 7 Quoted in Julia OTaolain and Lauro Martines (eds) Not in God's Image New York: Harper & Row, 1973 8 Marie Neal 'Women in religious symbolism and organisation' Sociological Inquiry 49, 1979, pp. 2-3 9 Robert Terwilliger 'A fractured church' in Moore (ed.) Man, Woman and Priesthood p. 161 10 From a sermon reprinted in Elizabeth Clark and Herbert Richardson (eds) Women and Religion: A Feminist Sourcebook of Christian Thought New York: Harper & Row, 1977, p. 265 11 C.S. Lewis 'Priestesses in the Church' in C.S. Lewis Undeceptions (ed. Walter Hooper) London: Geoffrey Bles, 1971, p. 192 12 ibid. p. 194

Notes

195

13 ibid. p. 195 14 ibid. p. 196 15 Karl Barth The doctrine of creation' Church Dogmatics Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1961; Cyril Eastaugh 'Bishop sees woman priests as "unnatural"' (interview by Clifford Longley) The Times 14 May 1973, p. 14; Bouyer 'Women priests'; Terwilliger 'A fractured church' 16 von Balthasar The uninterrupted tradition of the Church'; Bouyer Women Priests 17 Bouyer Women Priests p. 5 18 Barth Church Dogmatics vol. 3, sec. 4 19 Gerhard von Rad Genesis (trans. J. Marks) London: SCM Press, 1961 20 John Morgan 'Survey on attitudes to the ministry of women' in John Gaden (convenor) Report of the Commission on the Ministry of Women Synod Papers Diocese of Melbourne (Church of England in Australia), 1980 21 Dorothy Dinnerstein The Rocking of the Cradle: And the Ruling of the World London: Souvenir Press, 1978 22 ibid. pp. 36-37 23 For example, Beyond the Pleasure Principle New York: Batman 1959 (1928); Civilization and its Discontents London: Hogarth Press, 1930; New Introductory Lectures Harmondsworth: Pelican, 1973 (1933) 24 Melanie Klein The Psycho-Analysis of Children London: Hogarth Press, 1932 25 Geoffrey Chaucer Canterbury Tales (ed. A.C. Cawley) London: J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd 1975, p. 176 26 Venetia Nelson A Myrour to Lewde Men and Wymmen, Middle English Texts No. 14, Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1981, p. 129 27 Dinnerstein The Rocking of the Cradle p. 62 28 Marina Warner Alone of all her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1976 29 John Gaden 'Women and the Church' in Norma Grieve and Patricia Grimshaw (eds) Australian Women: Feminist Perspectives Melbourne: OUP, 1981 30 Michael Costigan The priest and the daughters of Eve' in Barbara Thiering (ed.) Deliver Us From Eve Sydney: Australian Council of Churches (NSW) Commission on the Status of Women, 1977 31 Quoted in ibid. p. 8

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32 Dinnerstein The Rocking of the Cradle pp. 211-12 33 ibid. p. 69 34 Mary Daly Beyond God the Father Boston: Beacon Press, 1973; Mary Daly Gyn/Ecology: The Metaethics of Radical Feminism Boston: Beacon Press, 1978; Ruether New Woman/New Earth 35 Sherry Ortner Is female to male as nature is to culture?' in Michelle Rosaldo and Louise Lamphere (eds) Woman, Culture and Society California: Stanford University Press, 1974 36 Bertil Gartner and Carl Strandberg The experience of the Church of Sweden' in Moore Man, Woman and Priesthood; Terwilliger 'A fractured church' 37 Lewis 'Priestesses in the Church?; E.L. Mascall 'Some basic considerations' in Moore Man, Woman and Priesthood 38 Dinnerstein The Rocking of the Cradle p. 93 39 ibid. p. 133 40 Gilbert Russell and Margaret Dewey 'Psychological aspects' in Moore Man, Woman and Priesthood p. 94 41 ibid. p. 93 42 Terwilliger 'A fractured church' p. 161 43 Audrey Oldfield 'No room for the real Mary' in Thiering Deliver Us From Eve; Jean Skuse 'Outside the sanctuary' in Thiering Deliver Us From Eve; Freda Whitlam 'The fathers and the brethren' in Thiering Deliver Us From Eve 44 Kevin Giles 'The ordination of women: a plea for a fair go' in Thiering Deliver Us From Eve; Ruth Teale 'Matron, maid and missionary: the work of Anglican women in Australia' in Sabine Willis (ed.) Women, Faith and Fetes Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1977 45 J. Carpenter The Inklings London: George Allen & Unwin, 1978 46 Dinnerstein The Rocking of the Cradle pp. 28-29 47 Quoted in Carpenter The Inklings p. 164 48 Barth Church Dogmatics vol. 3, sec. 4, p. 171 49 Simone de Beauvoir The Second Sex (trans. H. Parshley) London: Jonathan Cape, 1960, p. 160

7 Institutional sexism and the Anglican Church 1 Ruth Teale 'Matron Maid and Missionary: The Work of Anglican Women' in Sabine Willis (ed.) Women, Faith and Fetes Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1977, pp. 119-20

197

Notes

2 Barbara Thiering Created Second? Sydney: Family Life Movement of Australia, 1973, p. 19 3 Enquiry Into The Status of Women In The Church: Commission On The Status of Women, Australian Council of Churches, NSW, 1974, pp. 11-17 4 Dixson The Real Matilda. 2nd ed see also Conway, 'Gender in Australia' 5 Personal correspondence 6 'Beatrice Pate. Is Ordination a Dead Issue?' Movement For The Ordination of Women Newsletter February 1984, p. 5 7 Australian 22 September 1983 8 Paul's authorship of the pastoral epistles (1 and 2, Timothy and Titus) has long been disputed by scholars. See R. Banks Paul's Idea of Community Exeter, 1980, pp. 192-98. Claims have also been made that 1 Corinthians 14, 33b-35 is a non-Pauline interpolation. For references to this material see Francis J. Moloney, Woman: First Among the Faithful Blackburn, Vic.: Dove Communications, 1984, p. 1, nn 37-40 9 Names in this chapter are fictitious 10 Mary Daly Beyond God The Father Boston: Beacon Press, 1974, p. 43

8 Ministers' wives: Continuity and change in relation to their husbands' work 1 Janet Finch Married to the Job: Wives' Incorporation in Men's Work London: George Allen & Unwin, 1983 2 As will be apparent from the references throughout this chapter I am indebted to Finch for several of the arguments advanced here and in particular for emphasising the inevitability of ministers' wives being incorporated in their husbands' work 3 Janet Finch 'Devising Conventional Performances: The Case of Clergy Men's Wives' Sociological Review 28, 4, 1980, pp. 851-70 4 Kenneth Dempsey Conflict and Decline Sydney: Methuen Australia, 1983 5 See ibid., also Kenneth Dempsey 'Country Town Religion' in A. Black and P. Glasner Practice and Belief Sydney: George Allen & Unwin, 1983, pp. 25-42 6 See also Finch Married to the Job ch. 13 7 Finch 'Devising Conventional Performances' 8 See ibid. 9 Dempsey 'Country Town Religion'

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10 Finch Married to the Job p. 152 11 Feminism has of course been of unquestionable significance for many ministers' wives in other situations. The kind of impact the movement can have is well illustrated in a study made by Margaret Bottomley in 1976 of the attitudes, beliefs and behaviour of twenty wives of Victorian Uniting Church ministers. Her subjects spoke of a strong need for a high degree of independence from their husbands' work and for the opportunity to find personal fulfilment through pursuing their own careers and personal interests. These women did not define themselves primarily in terms of their relationship to their husbands' congregation or to his work; they 'rejected the description of themselves as ministers' wives because of the consciousness of their own identity apart from their vicarious role as ministers' wives and also because of the stigma attached to that label': Margaret Bottomley, 'And What Does Your Husband Do?', unpublished MA thesis, La Trobe University 12 E. Goffman The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life Monograph No. 2, University of Edinburgh Social Sciences Research Centre, Edinburgh, cited in Finch 'Devising Conventional Performances' p. 863 13 H. Becker Sociological Work Chicago: Aldine Publishing Co., 1970, cited in ibid. pp. 861-62 14 Despite the added pressure that this wife's behaviour placed on her husband's work the marriage has survived. The husband did, in fact, say that he understood his wife's position. At the same time he acknowledged that it would limit the number of invitations he received to new appointments. If he is right about its inhibiting effect then it corroborates the major argument of this chapter 15 See Finch Married to the Job ch. 13 16 ibid. p. 166 17 ibid. 18 ibid. p. 163 19 ibid. ch. 13

9 A clergy wife's story 1 Norman Grubb C.T. Studd: Cricketer and Pioneer Evangelical Press, 1935, p. 170 2 Mary Daly Beyond God the Father Boston: Beacon Press, 1973, p. 3

199

Notes

3 The word for Holy Spirit in Hebrew is a word of feminine gender, ruach ('wind or breath') and is represented in Greek by *pneuma', a neuter word. The Holy Spirit has been associated with inspiration, constant support, consolation, qualities traditionally associated with women 4 Marlene's husband writes: Only in recent years have I even begun to understand some of the sadness my wife, and others in her situation, have suffered. I long for the day when her gifts, and theirs, are given opportunity for free expression, and when ecclesiastical sanctions catch up with the divine!

10 God and pronouns I Much of the Wisdom literature is in the Apocrypha (the Wisdom of Solomon, and Sirach or Ecclesiasticus), and is thus more authoritative for Catholics than for Protestants. However a central expression of the Wisdom doctrine is in Proverbs 8

II Affirmative action in the Uniting Church 1977-83 1 Commission on the status of Women, Australian Council of Churches (NSW), Sabine Willis (ed.) Enquiry into the Status of Women in the Church Sydney, 1974, p. 5 2 This and all following quotations not otherwise specified are from letters in response to my advertisements, March-April, 1983

12 A quixotic approach: The women's movement and the Church in Australia 1 Rosemary Reuther Religion and Sexism 1974; Mary Daly Beyond God the Father: Towards a Philosophy of Women's Liberation 1973; Barbara Thiering Created Second? 1973; Jean Skuse, in Barbara Thiering Deliver Us From Eve. 1977 2 Jean Skuse's word 3 Quoted Catherine A. MacKinnon 'Feminism, Marxism, Methodology and the State: An Agenda for Theory' in Nannerle Keohane, Michelle Rosaldo and Barbara Gelpi (eds) Feminist Theory: A Critique of Ideology London: Harvester Press, 1982, p. 21 4 Julia Kristeva 'Women's Time' in Keohane et al. (eds) Feminist Theory p. 45

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5 Barbara Thiering 'Up From Down Under?' in Queenie Fogarty (ed.) Where Religion Places Women Perth: WEL, 1983 6 Quoted M. Oliver Mary Ward London: Sheed & Ward, 1959, p. 87 7 Jean Beth Elshtain 'Feminist Discourse & Discontents: Language, Power and Meaning' in Keohane et al. (eds) Feminist Theory p. 140 8 ibid. p. 142 9 Susan Griffith The Way of All Ideology' in Keohane et al. (eds) Feminist Theory p. 292 10 ibid 11 I have argued this more extensively in my Crucible of Prophets: Australians and the Question of God Sydney: Theological Inquiries, 1982 12 Elizabeth Harrower The Watch Tower Melbourne: Macmillan, 1966 13 Glen Tomasetti Thoroughly Decent People Melbourne: McPhee Gribble, 1976 14 Adrienne Rich, quoted by N. Keohane and B. Gelpi in the foreward to Feminist Theory, p. viii 15 Karl Rahner 'Freedom in the Church' in his Theological Investigations vol. 2, London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1963, p. 91

13 The feminisation of structures in religious orders 1 The Origins and History of the Family (1884) quoted in Rosemary Ruether New Woman/New Earth: Sexist Ideologies and Human Liberation Melbourne: Dove Communications, 1975, p. 3 2 Elisabeth Schiissler-Fiorenza In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins New York: Crossroad, 1982, chs 5, 6, 8 3 Liberation Theology: Human Hope Confronts Christian History and American Power, quoted in Judith Vaughan Sociality, Ethics and Social Change Landham, Md.: University Press of America, 1983, p. 105 4 Rosemary Haughton, Feminine Consciousness in the Church, lecture, Brisbane, January 1984; Eleanor McLaughlin 'Women, Power and the Pursuit of Holiness' in R. Ruether and E. McLaughlin (eds) Women of Spirit: Female Leadership in the Jewish and Christian Traditions New York: Simon & Schuster, 1979, ch. 3; Margaret Brennan 'Women and Men in Church Office' in V. Elizondo and N. Greinacher (eds) Concilium: Women in a Men's Church New York: Seabury, 1980

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201

5 See the several published histories of Australian women's religious congregations, or Ronald Fogarty Catholic Education in Australia, 1806-1950 Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1959 6 In the Beginning Carysfort Park, 1967, printed facsimile of 1833 written first copy and amendments 7 Y.M. McLay, Critical Appreciation of the Educational System of All Hallows' Congregation, unpubl. MEd thesis, University of Queensland, 1963; James Quinn: First Catholic Bishop of Brisbane Armadale: Graphic, 1979, pp. 81-86 8 ibid. pp. 206-9 9 E.M. O'Donoghue Mother Vincent Whitty Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1972 10 Vaughan Sociality, Ethics, and Social Change ch. 5 11 Carol Gilligan In a Different Voice: Women's Conceptions of Self and of Morality' Harvard Educational Review 47, 4, 1977, pp. 482, 492 12 Rosemary Haughton, There is Hope for a Tree, unpubl. paper on the emerging Church; Rosemary Haughton The Passionate God London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1981 13 See, for example, research cited in Paul E. Bumbar 'Notes on Wholeness' in Gloria Durka and Joanmarie Smith (eds) Aesthetic Dimensions of Religious Education New York: Paulist Press, 1979 14 Cited Norma H. Thompson 'Art and the Religious Experience' in Durka and Smith (eds) Aesthetic Dimensions p. 44 15 The Republic Book 4, quoted in Bumbar 'Notes on Wholeness' p. 47 16 'Historical Background to the Relationship between Faith, Science and Technology' Australian Council of Churches Conference, Melbourne, 1983 17 Wellspring Ramsey, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1979, p. 89 18 John H. Westerhoff 'Contemporary Spirituality: Revelation, Myth and Ritual' in Durka and Smith (eds) Aesthetic Dimensions p. 24 19 Carla de Sola and Arthur Easton 'Awakening the Right Lobe through Dance' in Durka and Smith (eds) Aesthetic Dimensions ch. 5 20 ibid. p. 77 21 Marion Sawer and Marion Simms A Woman's Place: Women and Politics in Australia, reviewed Courier-Mail Brisbane, 31 May 1984 22 John 15:9-17

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14 Implications of the feminine and masculine in pastoral ministry 1 William A. Clebsch and Charles R. Jaekle Pastoral Care in Historical Perspective Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: PrenticeHall, 1964, p. 34 2 ibid. p. 36 3 Ann Belford Ulanov 'C.G. Jung on Male and Female' in Ruth Tiffany Barnhouse and Urban T. Holmes (eds) Male and Female vol. 3, New York: Seabury Press, 1976, p. 197 4 Ann Belford Ulanov The Feminine in Jungian Psychology and in Christian Theology Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1971, pp. 38, 42 5 Ulanov 'C.G. Jung on Male and Female p. 197 6 Ulanov The Feminine in Jungian Psychology p. 48 7 ibid. p. 37 8 Ulanov 'C.G. Jung on Male and Female' p. 198 9 Ulanov The Feminine in Jungian Psychology pp. 37, 45 10 Ulanov 'C.G. Jung on Male and Female' p. 199 11 Ulanov The Feminine in Jungian Psychology p. 229 12 ibid. p. 40 13 ibid. p. 200 14 Stephen Sapp Sexuality, the Bible, and Science Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977, p. 10 15 Dietrich Bonhoeffer Creation and Fall London: SCM Press, 1959, p. 62 16 Samuel Terrien Toward a Biblical Theology of Womanhood' in Barnhouse and Holmes (eds) Male and Female p. 19 17 ibid. p. 20 18 Bonhoeffer Creation and Fall p. 80

15 Christian conversion and the feminine 1 Elizabeth Schtissler-Fiorenza In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins London: SCM Press, 1983, p. 132 2 ibid. pp. 133ff 3 ibid. pp. 135ff 4 ibid. pp. 150ff 5 P. Lemonnyer as quoted by Y. Congar in his excellent chapter, 'Sur la Maternit^ en Dieu et la Femininite du Saint-Esprit' in Je crois en I'Esprit Saint vol. 3, Paris: Cerf, 1980, pp. 206-218

Notes

203

6 'Male/Female Typology in the Church' Theology Digest 31, 1, 1984, pp. 23-26 7 FoV a good overview of European theological literature, see Karl Lehman The Place of Women' Communio Fall, 1983, pp. 219-39. For a more evocative English-language approach, see Sebastian Moore The Inner Loneliness London: Barton, Longman & Todd, 1982, esp. Section 2, pp. 45-76 8 See Schiissler-Fiorenza In Memory of Her pp. 160-99; also Frank Moloney SDB Woman: First Among the Faithful Blackburn, Vic.: Dove Communications, 1984 9 Moloney is especially good on this point.

Index

abortion, 34, 142, 143 Adam, 2, 4, 171, 173 affirmative action, x, 80,120-40,178 androgny, xii, 58, 117, 175-86 Anglican Church, vii, viii, x, 15, 16, 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 29, 38, 52, 53, 65, 68, 69-75, 82, 106 Anglican schools, 23, 26 Anglo-Catholic, 36, 38 Anti-Discrimination Act (NSW), church exemption, 36 apostles, xi, 38-41, 49, 53, 55; see also Junia Appellate Tribunal, x, xi, 73 Aquinas, Thomas, 3, 14, 15, 64, 109 Aristotle, 1, 2, 3, 5, 15, 56, 183 asceticism, xvi, 12, 13 Aspasia, 14, 25 Augustine of Canterbury, 12 Augustine of Hippo, 56, 64, 109 Australian Council of Churches Status of Women Commission, task forces 1978, ix, 1985, ix; see also Enquiry Into The Status of Women in the Church (NSW) 1973 authority-type leadership, forbidden, xii, 36, 44; see also bible as authority, man as head, ordination of women Baptist Church, viii Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry (BEM), 52

Earth, Karl, 58, 59, 66 Beale, Dorothea, 18, 21, 22 Benedictines, 155 Bennett, Joyce, 72 bible, authority of, xii, xiv, xv, x, 18, 28,29,30, 31,38, 39; see also image of God, ministry biblical interpretation, xiv-vii Bouyer, Robert, 58 Brennan Patricia, x; see also Movement for the Ordination of Women Buss, Frances, 18, 21, 22 Catherine of Siena, 144 Catholic Church, vii, viii, x, xi, xvii, 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 28, 36, 52, 53, 54, 70, 72, 141-48, 149; see also ordination of women, Catholic position; women, religious Catholic schools, 11, 23, 26,145, 146, 150 Charity School Movement, 19 Christian Brothers, 17, 150 Christian Science, viii Christian Women Conference, vii, viii Church of Christ, viii Church of England see Anglican Church church structures, 124,127,128,129, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 138; hierarchial model, 3, 8, 9, 36; non

204

Index hierarchial model, xvii, xviii, 9, 35, 36, 41; feminisation of, 152-63; see also ministry Clark, Manning, 29 Clement of Alexandria, 13 Clough Anne, 22; see also Newnham College for Women Coggan, Dr (Archbishop of Canterbury), 53 Commission of Doctrine of the (Australian) General Synod, x Community of All Hallows, 23 Community of St Mary the Virgin, 23 Community of St Thomas the Martyr, 23 Community of the Holy Family, 23 Community of the Sisters of the Church, 23 Congregational Church, viii, 121, 123, 127, 128 contraception, 143, 154, 155 contrasexual self, vii, xii, xiii, xvi, xvii, xviii, 9, 154-55,166, 167, 174 creation, two accounts of, 171, 172 creationism, 32 Cyran, 17 Daly, Mary, 57, 75, 142 Davies, Emily, 22 de Beauvoir, Simone, 62, 66, 146 de la Salle, Jean-Baptiste, 17 deacons, women, x, xi, xix, 72, 73 deaconesses, 12, 43, 70, 75, 76, 91, 150 Deborah, 118 Denison, Maurice Fredrick, 23 Dinnerstein, Dorothy, 55, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 67 disciples, women, 40 divorce, 34, 142, 143 Donaldson, James, 12 Eadburga, 13 Eastern Orthodox Church, viii education of women, early Christianity, 6-14; Medieval period, 14-6; post-industrial period, 25-7, 71, 145-46; Reformation, 20-5; Renaissance, 16-20

205 Einstein, Albert, 158 elders, women, 137 Elshtain, Mary Beth, 145 Engels, Friedrich, 149 Enquiry into the Status of Women in the Church (NSW 1974), viii, 70, 71, 74, 122, 123, 125, 131, 135 Episcopalian Church, 70 evangelical, 17, 30, 31, 32, 38, 74,100 Eve, 2, 61, 109, 137, 173, 177 evil women, associated with, xvi, 2, 13, 60-1, 63; see also asceticism, Eve, women as unclean exegesis of I Timothy, 45-6 Fall, xiii, 2,40,45,100,106,107,171, 173, 174 Falwell, Jerry, 28; see also Moral Majority family, 34, 92,184; see also head man as feminine, vii, xii, xv, xvi, xvii, xviii, 9, 146, 148, 153, 157, 161; church as, 144; conversion and the, 176-86; in pastoral ministry, 164-74; see also Holy Spirit, Wisdom; see also androgyny, contrasexual self, image of God feminist theology, viii, xii, 5, 122; see also women theologians Finch, Janet, 81, 85, 89, 98, 99 Fletcher, Sheila, 22 Freud, 60, 185 Fry, Elizabeth, 18 fundamentalism, xvii, 28-37 gifts of ministry, women's, 39, 42, 45, 110, 111, see also feminine pastoral ministry Goffman, 93 Greer, Germaine, 145 Grey, Lady Jane, 16 Griffin, Susan, 146 Guerin, Bella, 145 Harrower, Elizabeth, 147 head man as, xii, xvii, 12, 34, 35, 38, 40, 44-7, 70, 73, 107, 108, 137; covering, 43, 47 Hilda of Whitby, 24

206 Holland, A. C., 71 Holy Spirit, vii, xiii, xiv, xv, xvii, xviii, 9, 41, 42, 47, 51, 52,102, 111, 119, 121, 161, 172, 182; as feminine, 199, Ch 9 fn 3 house churches, 150 ideology, 68, 69, 77, 113, 141, 143, 146; see also patriarchy image of God, xvi, 4, 36, 56, 57, 64, 118, 182, 183 institutional sexism, 68, 69, 70, 71, 77, 142, 143, 144, 149, 151, 152, 153, 176, 177 Jesus and women, xi, xii, xv, xvi, 4, 5, 36, 40, 41, 118, 142, 149, 157, 186 Josephites, 145 Junia, 5, 43 Jung, xiii, 166, 167, 174, 185 Kelly, Tony, 3 Kephale, 46-7; see also head man as Klein, Melanie, 60 Lang, David, 22 lay readers, 71, 74, 75-80, 83 Latter Day Saints, viii Lawson, John, 13, 15 Leach, A. F., 13 Lewis, C. S., 57, 58, 64, 66, 69 Loyola, Ignatius, 17, 152 Lutheran Church, 19, 21, 25 marriage, 12, 34, 46, 70,117; see also head man as, wives clergy Martha, 40, 110 Mary Magdalene, 60 Mary the Virgin, 6, 15, 60, 61, 66, 144, 182 masculine in pastoral ministry, 164-174 Mason, Agnes, 23; see also Community of the Holy Family McAuley, Catherine, 144, 150-51; see also Sisters of Mercy McKillop, Mary, 145; see also Josephites Methodist Church, viii, 19, 29, 82, 87, 91, 93, 121, 128, 129, 130; see also Wesley, Susannah

The force of the feminine Ministry, gifts of, 39, 41, 42, 45, 52, 69; see also gifts, women's; ministers as servants, 35, 36, 44, 109; no formalised, xv, 26, 39, 47, 105, 106; of modern women, 8, 72, 73, 75-6, 78, 106, 110, 199; Ch 9 fn 4; see also women, religious; of women in early church, 5; see also deacons, deaconesses, prophets, preachers, teachers women; pastoral, 164-174; priesthood of all believers, xii Mishnah, 109 Moloney, Frank, 186 Moore, Hannah, 19 Moral Majority, 33-4 Movement for the Ordination of Women, ix, 72, 73 Murray, Daniel, 150 National Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor, 20 Newnham College for Women; see Clough, Anne Nietszche, 147 O'Farrell, Patrick and Deirdre, 5 O'Leary, 8, 9 ordination of women, vii, ix, x, xi, xii, xvii, 2,6, 8, 9, 26, 36, 38, 39,43,45, 48, 55, 57, 58, 59, 63, 65, 71, 72, 73, 76, 91, 106, 142, 164, 165; Catholic position, 49-54, 56; see also Movement for the Ordination of Women Orthodox Church, xiv, 37, 72 patriarchy, vii, ix, xv, xvi, xvii, 2, 3, 5, 55, 68, 80, 131, 139, 140, 152, 154,180,182; women's collusion in, 62-3, 177, see also ideology Plato, 158, 183 Phoebe, 5 Pontifical Biblical Commission, 51 Pope Gregory I, 1, 13 Pope Paul VI, 53, 62, 110 Power, Eileen, 15 preaching by women, 5, 42, 44, 83 Presbyterian Church, viii, 82, 89, 91, 121, 123, 127, 128, 129

Index

207

42; French women, Feudal France, 14, Medieval, 14, 15, Renaissance to industrialisation, 17; Greek women, 2, 4, 5, 14; Jewish women, 2, 4, 11, 12, 34, 39, 68, 109, 110; Roman women, 4, 12; today, vii, ix, xi, 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 26, 69, 70, 71, Quakers see Society of Friends 76, 80, 87, 97, 98, 122, 127, 128, Quinn, James, 151 142, 149, 164; see also Jesus and women Rahner, Kahl, 50, 54 Stott, John, 30 Raikes, Robert, 19 symbols and ritual, 32,135,160,161; Rand, Ayn, 108 see also sexist language, Mary the Reuther, Rosemary, 56,142, 150, 154 Virgin Rich, Adrienne, 147 Sunday School Movement, 19 Ryan, Susan, 145

priesthood of all believers, xii Prisca, 5, 42 prophets, women, 12, 42, 43, 44 Protestants, x, xvii, 6, 25, 28, 30, 31, 33, 82, 88

Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (SCDF), 49-54, 56 Salvation Army, viii Samaritan woman, 40, 110 Sapp, Stephen, 171 Schopenhauer, 147 Schussler-Fiorenza, Elizabeth, 180 Seddon, Priscilla, 23 sexist language, ix, xii, xvii, 57, 113-19, 135, 137 sexist theologians see Aquinas, Augustine of Hippo, Barth, Clement of Alexandria, Lewis C. S., Tertullian, Terwilliger sexual stereotypes, 2, 3, 4, 7, 18, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 34, 37, 39, 64-5,136, 142, 144, 145, 147, 178 sexuality and women, 62; see also Eve, women associated with evil, women as unclean Sisters of Mercy, 23, 150-156 Skuse, Jean, 142 socialisation, 69, 77, 86, 92, 154 Society for Promotion of Christian Knowledge, 19 Society of the Most Holy Trinity, 23 Society of Friends, viii, 18 Socrates, 14 status of women, British women, Feudal Britain, 12, 13, Medieval, 14, 15, 16; Renaissance to industrialisation, 16, 18, nineteenth century, 2, 21, 22, 23, 25; in early church, 5, 9, 10, 12, 36,

teaching by women, 42, 43, 44, 197, Ch 7 fn 8 Terea of Avila, 144 Tertullian, 5, 12, 27, 109 Terwilliger, Robert, 58, 65 The Society of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, 23 theology, vii, viii, ix, x, xiii, xiv, 3, 4, 7, 32, 135, 165; see also feminist theology theologians, women; see Daly, Reuther, Schussler-Fiorenza, Thiering Thiering, Barbara, 70, 142, 144 Thomasetti, Glen, 147 Tulip, Marie, viii Tyndale, 21 Ulanov, Ann Belfour, 166 Uniting Church, vii, x, 82, 88, 91, 120-40 Ursulines, 23 Vatican, 7, 11, 50, 51, 52, 153, 155 Vaughan, Judith, 154 Veronese, 61 Ward, Mary, 144, 145 Wesley, Susannah, 19 Whitlam, G., 71 Whitty, Mother Vincent, 151 Ws, Wisdom of Solomon in Apocrypha wisdom, 118, 156, 161, 177, 181

208

The force of the feminine

wives clergy, xvii, 69, 81-99,100-12 women, religious, 13, 15, 17, 18, 23, 24, 26,142,144,145,149,150,151, women and uncleanness, 109, 110, 152, 153, 155, 158, 159 142; see also evil associated with women's movement, vii,l, 8,9, 71, 92, women 120, 141, 146, 147, 156 women deacons, xix World Council of Churches Faith and Women's Electoral Lobby, 71 Order Commission see Baptism, women's liberation, 71, 110, 122, 123 Eucharist and Ministry women and nature, 63 women priests, offering hospitality to, 73

ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 5

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

MAURICE GOGUEL

Translated by H. C. Snape

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1953 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1953 Maurice Goguel All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

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(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 5) (hbk) (Volume 5) (pbk) (Volume 5) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

The Birth of Christianity by

MAURICE GOGUEL

Docteur es Lettres, Docteur en Theologie D.D, (St. Andrews, Glasgow, Lausanne, Uppsala) Doyen honoraire de la Faculte libre de Theologie frot&tante (Paris) Directeur d'Etudes a VEcole des Hautes Etudes Charge" de cours d la Faculte des Lettres de Paris Professeur hon. caus. du College reforme de Debreczen

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY H. C. SNAPE, M.A.

London GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD RUSKIN HOUSE • MUSEUM STREET

FIRST PUBLISHED IN IQ53

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research^ criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act 1911, no portion may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiry should be made to the publisher

This volume (which is a translation of La Naissance du Christiantsme, Payot, Paris, 1946) is the second of a trilogy entitled Jtsus et les Origines du Christianisme, of which the first part, The Life of Jesus, was published by George Allen & Unwin in 1933

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

in 11 on 12 pt. Imprint type

AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS ABERDEEN

PREFACE ANYONE who had just seen Jesus die on the cross might well have thought that there was nothing left of him and his work except the memory of a splendid dream, which hard reality had destroyed. Pilate would have been very much surprised if he had been told that his name would go down into history because he had pronounced sentence on a wretched little Jew, who had been brought before him as an agitator and on the suspicion of being a danger to the rule of Rome. Yet in reality nothing was finished: something was going to begin which would march through the centuries and open up a new age in the history of mankind. A few souls had been so deeply impressed by the person and teaching of Jesus that, although the drama of Calvary was able temporarily to obscure that impression, it could not destroy it. Soon the disciples recovered their confidence in their master and their faith in his divine mission. Their hopes revived and they became convinced that Jesus had overcome death, and that henceforth he would sit on the right hand of God as the Lord in heaven. In this way a new faith was born. At first it found expression in a variety of forms which were gradually absorbed and assimilated into one system of doctrine. In its essential elements this process may be considered to have been completed by the end of the second century in the primitive Catholicism of SS. Irenaeus and Tertullian. It is the birth of this faith which I propose to analyse.1 There are so many works concerning the birth and early history of Christianity that a catalogue of them would easily fill a book itself. In addition to the volumes needed for evaluating, summarising, and discussing them, several more 1 In my book, UEglise primitive, Paris, 1948, I have shown how the constitution of the church expressed the new faith in the field of social relationships and what were the principal aspects of its life.

V

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

would be needed to compare them and extricate from them the differing orientations, which guide their researches, and to identify those which seem to hold out possibilities of advance. In the footnotes will be found references to the standard works to which students of primitive Christianity refer. The references ajid discussions have been reduced to a minimum. I have thought it necessary to proceed in this way not only to prevent a work which is already long enough, becoming inordinately lengthy, but also to allow the main features of a process, which is already sufficiently complex, to be clearly delineated. In the present state of historical science it is perhaps more important to elucidate the structure than to discuss every detail. If anyone thinks that I have arbitrarily simplified my task, I would refer him to a series of detailed articles which I have published in the course of many years in the Revue de Vhistoire des religions and in the Revue d'histoire et de philosophic religieuses.1 I intended all these articles to be only preparatory to the synthesis which I hoped some day to attempt. Anyone who casts a glance over them will, I hope, be convinced that my work is built up on ample research into details which— not always without regret—I have refrained from quoting in order not to weary the reader. I have made it my duty to be very sparing in analysing and discussing the many hypotheses and theories which have been put forward on numerous historical points concerning Christian origins. I have taken count only of those which provide an opportunity of defining or justifying some particular element in my own conception. There is one last point which can be conveniently explained here. The history of the formation of the church, which I have here tried to sketch out, forms the first chapter of a general history of Christianity. Nevertheless it treats of one specific fact—if the phrase may be allowed—the formation of a religious society and all that bears on such a fact, not only in the realm of thought but also on the social 1 It will be seen in the introduction why I formulate the problem of Christian origins in this way.

VI

PREFACE

level, in the fields of both emotional life and moral action. Here is a very different phenomenon from the development of such a society and its adaptation to the various conditions in which it can be called upon to live. The problem of the birth of the church1 can be considered as part of a much vaster problem than that of the history of Christianity; it belongs to the general history of religions. I have no idea of doubting the legitimacy and even the necessity of applying to the study of Christianity and, especially to its origins, the methods of religious history, and particularly the comparative method. By comparing Christian facts with the phenomena observed in the bosom of other religions we can elucidate certain aspects of primitive Christianity and comprehend their significance better. Yet I consider that, while we are concerned both to establish facts and grasp their character as well as to explain them, in the present state of historical science we must be very wary of supposing that Christianity is to a large extent made up of elements borrowed from other religions. A religion must be understood as an independent entity which generates its own dynamic. It may be subjected to the influence of other religions or it may borrow to some extent from them; but what it receives or borrows in this way only takes root and is absorbed if it harmonises with some latent quality which thereby gains expression. Those elements, which come from a strange source, in the course of their development generally assume a different significance from that which they possessed in their native environment. As a rule what one religion borrows from another is only material; less often is it the interpretation belonging to the material; very rarely is it the complete complex of ideas, feelings, emotions, and experiences which the material expresses. M. G. 1 They will be found enumerated as far as 1941 in the Bibliographie Gogueliana inserted by Professor Fridrichsen of Uppsala in part X of his Conjectanea neotestamentica.

Vll

A U T H O R ' S NOTE THE books of the New Testament and the works of early Christian literature are for convenience mentioned under the names of the authors to whom they are traditionally attributed; this, however, does not imply that they are accepted. The manuscripts and versions of the New Testament are mentioned by the usual sigla, i.e. those used in E. Nestle's edition of the Greek New Testament (1Stuttgart, 1941). This table is now universally adopted. The quotations from Irenaeus follow the traditional division of the text as it is reproduced in the Stieren edition (Leipzig, 1853). That given in the Harvey edition (Cambridge, 1857) differs in some respects.

IX

T R A N S L A T O R ' S NOTE THIS book forms the second volume of a trilogy entitled Jtsus et les origines du christianisme. The first volume appeared in an English translation in 1933, under the title, The Life of Jesus. The third volume was published in 1947 and is entitled L'figlise primitive but has not been translated. The author has introduced a few changes and additions in the text and notes of the English edition but substantially this work is a full and unabridged translation of La Naissance du christianisme which first appeared in 1946. The references to La Vie de Jesus are to the second edition published in Paris in 1950 under the title Jesus. The quotations from the Bible have been rendered from the Authorised Version except where it fails to give the meaning which it is desired to bring out. In these cases the new translation from the Vulgate has been used. In most of the passages quoted from Josephus and the Patristic Writers the translations in the Loeb Classical Library have been used. I desire to record my thanks to Professor S. G. F. Brandon of Manchester University for his permission to make use of the bibliography of modern works appended to his work, The Fall of Jerusalem and the Christian Church and the additions to it suggested by him in composing the similar bibliography appended to this work at the author's request. H. c. SNAPE Whalley Vicarage January, 1952

B I B L I O G R A P H I C A L NOTES I. Periodicals A.G.=Abhandlungen der konig- R.H.R.= Revue de Vhistoire des lichen Gesellschaft der Wissenreligions. schaften zu Goettingen, Philo- R.H.L.R.= Revue d'histoire et de sophisch-historische Klasse. littdrature religieuses. ARCH. F. RELlG.= Archiv fur R.H.P.R.= Revue d'histoire et de Religionswissenschaft. philosophie religieuses. BEITR.=Beitrage zur Religions- s.E.A.= Sitzungsberichte der Berwissenschaft. liner Akadamie der WissenFORSCH.—Forschungen zur Geschaften, Philosophisch-historschichte des neutestamentlichen ische Klasse. Kanons und der altkirchlichen s.H.A.= Sitzungsberichte der HeidLitteratur. elberger Akadamie der WissenHARV.TH. R.= The Harvard Theoschaften. Philosophisch-historlogical Review. ische Klasse. N.G.=Nachrichten der koniglichen z.F.TH.v.K.= Zeitschriftfur TheoGesellschaft der Wissenschaften logie und Kirche. zu Goettingen, Philosophisch- Z.F.WISS.TH.—Zeitschrift fir wishistorische Klasse. senschaftliche Theologie. R.B.=Revue biblique. = Z.T$.T:.W. Zeitschrift fur die neuR . E. j.=Revue des Etudes juives. testamentliche Wissenschaft. II. Dictionaries, Encyclopaedias, etc. BAUER, w6RTERB.= W a l t e r Bauer, Griechisch-deutsches Worterbuch zu den Schriften des Neuen Testaments und der tibrigen urchristlichen Litteratur, Giessen, 1928. D.A.c.L.=Dictionnaire d'archeologie chrdtienne et de liturgie, public par Dom F. Cabrol et Dom H. Leclercq, Paris, 1907 ss. E.B.=Encyclopaedia biblica, published by Cheyne, London, 1899-1903. HENNECKE, NEUT.APOKR. = Neutestamentliche Apokryphen in Verbindung mit Fachgelerten

xiii

in deutscher Uebersetzung herausgegeberi*> Tubingen, 1924. KITTEL = G. Kittel, Theologisches Worterbuch zum Neuen Testament in Verbindung mit Bauerfeind, Baumgarten, Behm, J$eyeT,etc.,herausgegeben, Stutgart, 1933 ss. R.E.= Realencyclopadie fur protestantische Theologie und Kirche, begriindet von Hertzog, in dritter Auflage herausegegebeny von Hauck, Leipzig, 1896 ss. R.G.G. (the second edition is quoted except where otherwise shown). = Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY herausgegeben von F. M. Schiele, Tubingen, 1909 ss. Zweite Auflage herausgegeben von H. Gunkel undL,. Zscharnack, Tubingen, 1926 ss. VOCABULARY= Moulton and Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Greek New Testament, illustrated from papyri and

other non-literary sources, London, New York, Toronto, 1914 ss. BEGIN.= !T&? Beginnings of Christianity, edited by F. J. FoakesJackson and Kirsopp Lake, Part I, Vol. I-V, New York, London, 1920-33.

III. Works frequently quoted BALDENSPERGER, PROL. VIERT.

DUCHESNE, H. A.= Histoire Ond-

Ev.=W. Baldensperger, Der enne de V&glise, Paris, 1906 ss. Prolog des vierten Evangeliums, ERBES. TODESTAGE= Z)*> TodeFreiburg in Breisgau, Leipzig, stage der Apostel Paulus und Tubingen, 1898. Petrus und ihre rdmische DenkBAUER. R E C H T G L . u. K E T Z . = maler, Leipzig, 1899. Rechtglaubigheit und Ketzerei G O G U E L M A U R I C E , EV.DE MC. im alltesten Christentum, Tub- = L'£vangile de Marc dans ses ingen, 1934. rapportes avec ceux de Matthieu BAUER, WORTGOTTESDIENST= et de Luc, Paris, 1909. f Der Wortgottesdienst der aelLtE\}CUAHis= riE L'Eucharistie testen Kirche, Tubingen, 1930. des origines d Justin Martyr, BOUCHE-LECLERCQ.=L'intole'rParis, 1910. once religieuse et la politique, INTROD.^Introduction au NouParis, second edition, 1911. veau Testament, I-V, 2, Paris, BOUSSET-GRESSMANN,REL.D.

1922 SS.

jUD.=W. Bousset, Die Rej. DE w.= Je'sus de Nazareth, ligion des Judentums im spathelmy the ou histoire ? Paris, 1925. lenistischen Zeitalter in dritter ].-&. = Au seuil de Vfivanverbesserter Auflage herausgegile. Jean-Baptiste, Paris, 1928. geben von H. Gressmann, TROIS ^Ti]DES= Trois etudes Tubingen, 1926. sur la pens^e religieuse du BULTMANN, GE$cn.= Geschichte christianisme primitif, Paris, I der synoptischen Tradition2, 93IGoettingen, 1931. = v.D.j. La Vie de Jtsus. ComDEISSMANN, L. v. o.= L i c h t pletely recast in a second vom Osten*~z, Tubingen, 1909. edition under the title, J&us, DIBELIUS, GEISTERS.= DI> Ge-> Paris, 1950. The references isterwelt im Glauben des Paulus. from this book come from Goettingen, 1909. the English translation (The DUCHESNE, MGR. L., ORIGINES= Life of Jesus, translated by Origines du culte chretien, Olive Wyon, London, 1933). Paris, 1903. The references to the second

xiv

BIBLIOGRAPHY

French edition have been added, LA FOI X LA Rts.=Lafoi a la resurrection de Jesus dans le christianisme primitif, Paris, 1933. E.v.=U£gli$e primitive, Paris, 1947.

pdpstlicher Zentralismus, Marburg, 1937-41. HOLL, GES. AVFS.=Gesammelte Aufsatze zur Kirchengeschichte, w, Das Osten, Tubingen, 1928. KNOPF, NACHAP. z.= Das nachapostolische Zeitalter, Tubingen, 1906.

GUIGNEBERT, PRIM DE PI.=La

LEIPOLDT, GOTTESDIENST. =

Der primaute de Pierre, la venue de Gottesdienst der aeltesten Kirche Lei zl Pierre a Rome, Paris, 1909. > P g> *W]* Le Christ, Paris, 1943. LIETZMANN, H. = Histoire de HARNACK, L. D. zw. AP.= Die ™gliseanciene, traduction de A Jundt Lehre der zwolf Apostel nebst ' > ^A93? SS' n LIOH Untersuchungen zur , aeltesten J"Or ^ J ^ *. ,. ~, TT/. Apostohc Fathers, ' TLondon, Geschtchte der Kirchenverfas0 ^ 0 9 oo mt. ^ I ^ i^- z. z.* 1869-852 y 5ttw^ und^ des Kirchenrechts, . , 1889-90. s i The firstj part is quoted ffrom the second T r . 00 Leipzig, 1884. j- • , t r i_ , , , , , edition, the second from the DOGSCH., i.—Lehrbuch der fi t Dogmengeschichte, I*,, Tubin- L O I B J / Q - EV . =Le qmtrieme gen, 1909. Evangile, Paris, 1903, 2i92i. M I S S I ON, £** Mmoii WWrf 4fifUnless otherwise 8tated j quote 6mYM^ des Christentums in from the second edition. den ersten drei Jahrhunderten*, ACTES = ssief ^cto &1 Apdtres, Leipzig, 1915. Paris, 1920. G. A. i,.= Geschichte der altMYSTERES = L«^ mysteres paiens christlichen Litteratur bis et k mystere chretien\ Paris, Eusebius, Leipzig, 1893 ss. I92a ENSTEH. u. ENTWiCK.= £nN Aiss. DU CHRIST.= La naisstehung und Entwickelung der sance du christianisme, Paris, I Kirchenverfassung und des 933Kirchenrechts in den ersten drei MEYER, URSPR. u. ANF.= [/r/>sJahrhunderten, Leipzig, 1910. rung und Anfange des ChristenEiNF.=Einfuhrung in die alte turns, Stuttgart, Berlin, 1921Kirchengeschichte, Das Schrei25. ben der romischen Kirche an REITZENSTEIN, HELL. MYSTERdie korinthische in der Zeit des = REL. Dte hellenisteschen MyDomitians (I CUmensbrief), sterienreligionen, Leipzig, BerLeipzig, 1929. H nj I^IOy Tg2o, 3i927- I quote HEILER, U R K . u. O S T K j A L T K . from the second edition. AUTON.=Dt> katholische REVILLE, ORIG. DE L'^PISCOP. Kirche des Ostens und Westens, = Les origines de Vepiscopat, I I,UrkircheundOstkirche,H,i, (which is all that appeared), Altkirchliche Autonomie und Paris, 1894. xv

THE BIRTH OF C H R I S T I A N I T Y

Q .E .=Le Quatri&me £vangik, aus Talmud und Mtdrash, MarParis, 1901. burg, 1922-28. ORIG. DE L9EVCH.=Lesortgines WEINEL, BIBL. TH.= Biblische de Veucharistiey Paris, 1908. Theologie des Netien TestaSCHURER, GESCH.= Geschichte ments. Die Religion Jesu und des jiidischen Volkes im Zeitdes Urckristentums3, Tubingen, alter Jesu Christi? Leipzig, 1921. 1898-1901.

SOHM.=Kirchenrecht, I, Die geschichtlichen Grundlagen, Leipzig, 1892. STRACK-BILLERBECK.=J^ o m mentar zum Neuen Testament

JOHANNES WEISS, URCHRIST. =

Das Urchristentum, Goettingen, 1917. ZAHN, G. K.= Geschichte des Kanons des Neuen Testaments, Leipzig, 1888, 1892.

xvi

CONTENTS PREFACE

PAGE

AUTHOR'S NOTE TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

y

ix xi zlii

B I B L I O G R A P H I C A L NOTES

INDEX

557

INTRODUCTION

1. The problem of the birth of Christianity 2. The chronological setting of primitive Christianity

i 21

PART ONE

CHAP.

The Creation of a New Object of Religious Devotion

I. THE BIRTH OF THE BELIEF IN THE RESURR E C T I O N OF JESUS

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

The The The The The The

burial of Jesus third day and the empty tomb resurrection appearances ascension tradition and its formation

II. THE BIRTH OF THE F A I T H IN THE RESURRECTION

1. The character of the faith in the resurrection 2. The origins of the idea of resurrection 3. The psychological character of the resurrection appearances 4. The function and character of religious visions 5. The psychological mechanism of the appearance to Paul

30 33 37 41 60 61

66 72 74 75 81

PART TWO The Failure of Christianity to Develop in the Framework of Judaism I. THE C H U R C H AT J E R U S A L E M UP TO A.D.

44

1. The Church at Jerusalem according to the compiler of Acts 89 2. Was the Christianity of the Jerusalem Church pneumatick in character ? 95 3. The theology of the Church at Jerusalem 98 4. The life of the Church at Jerusalem according to Acts 103

xvii

THE B I R T H OF C H R I S T I A N I T Y CHAP.

II. THE CHURCH IN JERUSALEM AFTER A.D. 44. THE FATE OF JUDAEO-CHRISTIANITY

PAGB What happened about 44 106 James and dynastic Christianity 110 The mother of Jesus 118 The domestic history of the Church at Jerusalem after 44 121 5. The death of James 124 6. The exodus of the Church info *32 7. The traditions concerning the desposunoi 133 8. The Church at Jerusalem after 70 136 9. Ebionitism 139 10. Jewish Christians and heresies 145 11. The significance of Jewish Christianity 14?

1. 2. 3. 4.

III.

APOSTOLIC C H R I S T I A N I T Y AFTER A.D. 44

1. Peter at Antioch. The incident between him and Paul 2. Did Peter evangelise Asia-Minor ? 3. Peter and Babylon. Does Babylon refer to Rome? 4. Missions from Jerusalem and the Church of Rome

149 I52 154 158

PART THREE

The Development of Christianity within the Framework of Hellenism. The Beginnings of Christian Doctrine I. STEPHEN AND THE HELLENISTS OF JERUSALEM

1. 2. 3. 4.

Who the Hellenists are The story of Stephen Stephen's Speech The Origins of Hellenic Christianity

II. THE C H U R C H AT A N T I O C H

1. The Hellenists and their mission 2. The foundation of the Church at Antioch 3. The name'Christians'given to the faithful at Antioch 4. The Church at Antioch after 44 Appendix—Barnabas

III. THE APOSTLE PAUL AND

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

PAULINISM

Paul's significance and the character of his thought The life of the apostle Paul Paul's missionary method Paul's theology Paul's controversies

167 169 172 174 177 181 184 186 189 194 205 221 223 250

PART FOUR

The Stabilisation of Christianity and the Formation of its Doctrine I. T O W A R D S

STABILISATION

i. Why Christianity only gradually became conscious of itself as an independent entity xviii

257

CONTENTS

CHAP.

2. Primitive diversity and the work of unification PAGE 3. Pnewnatism and eschatological belief, obstacles to stabilisation 4. The evolution of pneumatism 5. The evolution of eschatological belief 6. The parallelism between the evolution of pneumatism and that of eschatology 7. The evolution of the idea of authority

II. THE C O N F L I C T B E T W E E N GENTILE CHRISTIANITY

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6. 7. 8. III.

JEWISH

261 263 271 280 286

AND

Paul and the Church at Jerusalem until 43-44 The conference at Jerusalem The incident at Antioch The campaign led by Jewish Christians in churches founded by Paul The epistle to the Romans and the Jewish Christian question Paul's isolation both at Jerusalem and Rome The triumph of universalism after A.D. 70 The surviving forms of Jewish Christianity

292 295 303 305 316 318 319 321

DEUTEROPAULINISM

1. What is to be understood by the term deuteropaulinism 2. The Pastoral Epistles 3. The Epistle to the Ephesians 4. The synoptic Gospels 5. The book of the Acts 6. The first Epistle of Peter

IV. THE E P I S T L E TO THE HEBREWS

1. The Fourth Gospel 2. The first Epistle of John 3. The Johannine Apocalypse

347 366 369

VI. C H R I S T I A N I T Y AS AN E T H I C A L R E L I G I O N IN THE E P I S T L E OF JAMES AND THE D I D A C H E

1. The Epistle of James 2. The Didache

THE P R E - C A T H O L I C I S M ROME

OF C L E M E N T

323 324 328 330 337 339 342

V. THE J O H A N N I N E T H E O L O G Y

VII.

258

OF

373 377 383

VIII. H E R E S I E S

1. Heresy and the Church's aspirations after unity. Definition of heresy. The grounds of its appearance 2. Did the apostle Paul regard the Judaising Christians as heretics ? 3. The gnosticism of Colossae 4. The gnosticism which is attacked in the Epistle to the Ephesians 5. The heresies attacked in the Pastoral Epistles

xix

393 396 401 404 405

CHAP.

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

6. The heresies attacked in the first Epistle of John PAGE 407 7. The fight against heresy in the Book to the Seven Churches 409 8. Ignatius of Antioch and heresies 413 9. The Didache and heresies 418 10. The polemic against heresy in the Epistles of Jude and II Peter 418 n. Conclusion 430

IX. TOWARDS EARLY

CATHOLICISM

433

PART FIVE

The Reactions Provoked by the Preaching of the Gospel I. THE PROBLEM

1. The feelings of the primitive Church towards Judaism 2. The feelings of the Church towards the empire and the Gentile world 3. The attitude of Judaism towards the Church 4. The position of Christianity in the empire. Public opinion 5. The reactions of the Church

439 440 446 448 449

II. THE REACTIONS OF PALESTINIAN JUDAISM TO THE P R E A C H I N G OF THE GOSPEL

1. The feelings of Judaism towards Christianity until 70 and its methods of action 451 2. The description given by the compiler of Acts of the attitude of the Jewish authorities towards the church at Jerusalem. A criticism of his description 454

III.

THE REACTIONS OF THE JEWS IN THE DIASPORA AND THE FIRST INTERVENTIONS OF ROME PROMPTED BY THEM

1. The Christians at first confused with the Jews and enjoying the tolerance accorded to Judaism as a religio licita 468 2. The efforts of the Jews to counter Christian propaganda, especially Paul's missionary work 469 3. Paul's trial 489 IV. C H R I S T I A N I T Y AND THE R O M A N

EMPIRE

1. The change in the situation in 64 and its causes 2. The question of the Edictum Neronianum and the procedure applied against the Christians 3. The massacre of Christians at Rome in 64 4. From Nero to Domitian 5. The persecution of Domitian 6. The persecution under Trajan

502 506 510 523 528 537

V. HOW C H R I S T I A N I T Y R E A C T E D TO PERSECUTION 545 A P P E N D I X — B I B L I O G R A P H Y OF M O D E R N WORKS IN ENGLISH 555 XX

Introduction I.—THE PROBLEM OF THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

ALBERT S CH WEITZER writes: 'The great and still undischarged task which confronts those engaged in the historical study of primitive Christianity is to explain how the teaching of Jesus developed into the early Greek theology, in the form in which it appears in the works of Ignatius, Justin, Tertullian, and Irenaeus. How could the doctrinal system of Paul arise on the basis of the life and work of Jesus and the beliefs of the primitive community: and how did the early Greek theology arise out of Paulinism? Strauss and Renan recognised the obligation and each endeavoured in a series of works to trace the path leading from Jesus to the history of dogma. Since their time no one who has dealt with the life of Jesus has attempted to follow this course.'1 This judgement is rather shallow in nature, as the real problem is not only to discover how Christian theology and dogma were formed but also, what is especially important, to discover how the church developed its constitution. For Christianity cannot be reduced to a theology. In addition Schweitzer's appreciation of the paths criticism has followed is somewhat sweeping. But it has to be recognised that research has produced much more both in volume and importance on points of detail than in the way of general outlines and attempts at explanation of the whole.2 It is very tempting 1 Albert Schweitzer: Geschichte der paulinischen Forschung, Tubingen, 1911, p. v. Eng. trans. Paul and his interpreters, Black, p. v. * Confining oneself to the works of the twentieth century the following exceptions must be mentioned: Adolph Julicher, Die Religion Jesu und die Anfange des Christentums bis zum Nicaenum (325); Adolph Harnack, 'Kirche und Staat bis zur Grundung der Staatskirche', Die Kultur der Gegenwart, Teil. I, Abt. IV, Berlin, Leipzig, 1906, pp. 41-160; Johannes Weiss, Das Christentum, Gottingen, 1917. The work is incomplete. Only the volume devoted to the apostolic period appeared. The author died before he could edit the volume which was going to deal with the religious state of the ancient world at the time of Jesus. The order in which the volumes were intended to succeed each other show that the complete work was undoubtedly not going to be a general explanation of the origins of Christianity. See by the same author 'Das Problem der Enstehung des Christentums', Arch.f. Redzviss., 1913, XVI, pp. 423-515; Meyer, Ursp. u. Anf. Cf. Ursprung und Geschichte der

I

I

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

to suppose that the history of Christian origins cannot be treated in any other way but the reasons for this are complex and it is worthwhile pointing out the chief of them. The history of Christian origins and the New Testament criticism on which it depends are sciences which have only by a slow and difficult process detached themselves from their theological origins; for a long time—and even now on occasion—they had to defend their right to an autonomous existence and, even since they gained that right, they have not always succeeded in ridding themselves completely of the habit of envisaging their problems with a certain theological prejudice. On this account the history of the birth of Christianity has often turned out to be nothing more than the history of the formation of Christian doctrine. But although doctrine is that manifestation of a religion which is most easily grasped, yet it is neither the only one nor always the most important. For this reason also it is nearly always assumed as a priori certain that Christianity in its development moved from unity to diversity; in reality, although Christianity has varied in form according to changing environment and different circumstances, at the beginning it appeared under a variety of forms, which a superficial examination fails to disclose. In its earliest history some forces can be detected making for diversity as well as others making for unification and concentration. Research on Christian origins has not yet arrived at results comparable to those attained in other fields of the history of religions, because (i) theological prejudices have often played hard and fast with research and have had to be set aside,1 (2) the documents at one's disposal are insufficient2 and perhaps especially because (3) the problem has been as a rule conceived too narrowly. Mormonen mit Exkursen uber die Anfange des Islams und des Christentums, Halle, 1912. (Extremely suggestive in many parts, the work of Edouard Meyer is a series of detailed studies sometimes lacking logical order rather than a general exposition.) Loisy, Naiss. du christ. Charles Guignebert (Jesus, Paris, 1933; Le monde juif vers le temps de Jesus, Paris, 1935) made preliminary studies for a complete history of Christian origins which was to be followed by two volumes called Le Christ et L'tglise. Only part of the first volume could be published. It appeared in 1943 together with a lecture on the mystery of Paul given by Guignebert in 1933. The extensive work published under the editorship of F. Foakes-Jackson and Kirsopp Lake (with the assistance of a large number of scholars) under the title The beginnings of Christianity, New York, London, is a collection of studies of which only those referring to the book of the Acts have appeared (five volumes, 1920-33). 1 This applies just as much to those who want to use history in defence of Christianity as to those who want to use it as an instrument of attack. 2 In these circumstances there is a strong temptation to supply the gaps in our sources of information by hypothesis. A historian as judicious as F. Kattenbusch 2

INTRODUCTION

The phenomenon, which we are concerned to analyse and explain is not only the formation of a doctrine which found expression in the old Greek dogma but also the establishment of a new religious society, the church, in the life of which doctrine plays a very important but by no means the only part. The terms Christianity and the Church are often used as if they were synonymous. But the first has a wider connotation than the second. Christianity is the whole religious movement which claims Jesus and his activity as its source and origin both in its individual and collective forms; the church is a society, which, without forgetting that its raison d'etre and purpose lie in a realm beyond, has had to adapt itself to an existence in this present world for its realisation. It is also a society which was several times divided and in the life of which can be discerned at play two forces, one tending to unification, the other to diversification. Both Christianity and the church are wholly centred on the belief in the risen and glorified Jesus. Everything concerning the ministry of Jesus, his teaching and ministry as well as the group of disciples collected round him do not belong to the church's history but to its 'prehistory'. Typically enough there is no word for this: it is an indication of a confusion of ideas and explains why it is so difficult to form a unifying conception of the origins of Christianity. This confusion comes from the idea to be found as a confessional prejudice in both Catholicism and Protestantism, that Jesus founded the church. The church is a result of his activity but he neither founded it directly himself nor entrusted its foundation to a solitary individual, such as Peter, nor can a group of men such as the twelve apostles be supposed to have been given the mission and power to do it. Jesus did not foresee the church. He proclaimed his return in glory to establish the Kingdom of God and he believed that his return was so near that he gave no instructions to his disciples concerning the interval, which had to elapse until he returned. To quote Loisy's epigrammatic phrase, 'He proclaimed the Kingdom of God and the church was the outcome'.1 But Loisy's assertion raises a problem of the first importance which he does not seem to have envisaged. Was the church a ('Die Vorzugstellung des Petrus und die Urgemeinde zu Jerusalem*, Festgabe fur, Karl Muller, Tubingen, 1922, p. 323) puts forward a theory to justify this procedure. 'We are often tempted', he writes, 'to know more than the texts tells us. We must take a provisional risk. Hypotheses in reconstruction cannot be dispensed with altogether. But we must be very careful in using them.' 1 Loisy, L'£vangile et rEglise, Paris, 1929, p. 153. See also Guignebert, Le Christ, p. 3.

3

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

substitute for the Kingdom of God or was it felt, at any rate in the beginning, that it was only a stage preparatory to the Kingdom of God? The Pauline conception of the church as the means of edification—taking the word in its full sense and not with the flat insipid meaning which was given to it subsequently—shows that this is the question which has to be answered. It is often said that history is the resurrection of the past. This is not true. The course of events cannot be reversed. Nothing in the future can be done to recreate the present. So far as history may be thought of as a resurrection of the past it can only be so on entirely partial lines. The possibilities of its being so are directly dependent on the documents at one's disposal. Furthermore, out of all the facts which constituted the real at a given moment, only a small part find a place in the relevant documents and they are not necessarily the most important or the ones of the greatest consequence.1 At the most history may be a simplified representation of the past but there is even then no guarantee that the facts as a result of such simplification may not to some extent be presented in false perspective. But, dangerous as simplification may be, on other counts it has one advantage. It allows us to see the relationship between the facts which necessarily escapes observation when we are in the presence of the entire complexity of the real. Such a simplified history of primitive Christianity is only possible to a very limited extent. So far as it could be sketched out roughly it would resemble those old maps of Africa, on which beyond the districts touching the coast a few roads and regions were merely marked out and shown without their relative positions being given but with vast tracts of land left white or hachured and marked 'region unknown*. Pierre Termier 2 in his description of the way in which geologists, 'those historians of the earth', study the architecture of the globe, notices that as their observations are restricted to the continents and islands seventenths of the earth's surface 'escapes their investigations. The historians of primitive Christianity are in a similar plight. They are unable to plot the exact position of what they know or to estimate its value because so much has become inaccessible by the oceans of oblivion. 1

The earliest history of Christianity offers a typical example of this kind. The cultus is one of the most direct manifestations of religion. What we know of the cultus of the first generation of Christians amounts to very little and gives us no general picture. 1 P. Termier, Souvenirs d?un geologue*, Paris, s.d., p. 358. 4

INTRODUCTION

The fragmentary nature of the documents at their disposal demands an exceedingly sensitive interpretation. Where the texts are so few, it is possible to make a most minute examination. This is an advantage provided that you always resist the temptation to desire to extract from them more than is there. One particular difficulty emerges from the character of the texts. The term literature may be reserved for those works where the author has some regard for style and expresses what he wishes to say in a way which men of culture can understand. By this definition the writings of primitive Christianity cannot be classified as literature, since they were intended only for a limited group and were not completely intelligible to others. The earliest Christian writers wrote only for the members of the church and therefore did not express all their knowledge, sentiments, and beliefs, because they could assume that their readers already shared them. Religious literature offers peculiar difficulties in the way of interpretation. A feeling and regard for historical accuracy is missing. Everything in this kind of literature which has the charm of a historical tale is twisted into expressing and justifying the faith, facts and their interpretation being indissolubly bound up together. The memories, which a religious society can preserve of its origin and past, play in its life a double part. On the one hand they express what it is and what it wants to be; at the same time they justify its existence by giving its origins a transcendent character. A religious society makes its memories into a myth which serves to explain the society's formation and justifies its existence.1 Christianity is not the religion preached or taught by Jesus. It has for its content the drama of redemption accomplished by his death and resurrection. It depends therefore upon a sacred history culminating in the fact of the resurrection. It is not concerned with the life of a holy man or a hero who serves as an example for those who follow him 2 but with a series of historical facts, which are interpreted as revealing redemptive acts of God. The material may be provided by historical memories and traditions but its elaboration involves a certain disregard for minute historical accuracy. Sacred history in some ways resembles a myth; it differs from a myth as far as both those who weave the story and those who hear it cherish it 1 Hellenic Christianity developed more rapidly than Palestinian Christianity without doubt because its memories of the ministry of Jesus were more remote. * Although the gospel story was viewed from this angle also in the primitive church.

5

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

as significant because they are convinced that it is concerned with what is real. The earliest Christian documents would not make the problem of Christian origins unusually difficult, if they did not happen also to be unilateral in character, owing to the fact that they are a canonical collection. Tacitusl mentions massacres of Christians after the fire at Rome in 64. Josephus2 mentions John Baptist and the death of James the Just, the brother of Jesus, in 62. Suetonius and Dion Cassius3 tell of the persecution of Domitian.4 Pliny informs us of the action taken against the Christians in Bithynia.5 Apart from these references there is nothing in the history of Christianity in the first century and the beginning of the second known outside Christian sources. Latin writers, in particular Epiphanes and St. Jerome, make some allusions to small groups of Jewish Christians who survived for some time after 70 on the edge of the great church. They also refer to gospels used by these people of which they have preserved a few fragments. The passages in the Memoirs of Hegesippus quoted by Eusebius throw an interesting light on the character of Palestinian Christianity, principally as it existed in the period from 70 to the revolt of Barkochba. But, apart from this, our information is confined to Christianity in Asia Minor and Jerusalem. Of the latter we are informed of the earliest phase in its history and of its relations with the former. In spite of this there is reason to think that Christianity both in the first and second centuries was much more diverse than the sources disclose.6 Is it credible that Christianity made no advance except in the direction of Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy? It must have spread in several directions at the same time. The catalogue of nations found in Acts ii. 9-11 suggests a vast missionary enterprise which must have been under way when the book of Acts was being edited, i.e. between 80 and 90. We do not know anything about the 1 Tacitus, Ann. xv. 44; Suetonius (Nero, 16) also mentions the massacres of Christians but does not connect them with the fire at Rome. 2 Josephus, A.j. xviii. 5, 2; xx. 9, I. 3 Suetonius, Domitiant x. 12, 15; Dion Cassius, Ixvii. 14. 4 Important as they are in certain respects, the texts of Tacitus, Suetonius, and Pliny the Younger, in which Christ is named, do not tell us anything we do not know from other sources. Concerning these texts see my books J. de N.t pp. 25 ff.; V. dej., Eng. trans., London, 1933, pp. 75 ff. 6 Pliny, Ep. x. 96. 8 On this point see my article, 'Unite* et diversite" du christianisme primitif, R.h.p.r., 1939, XIX, pp. 1-54.

6

INTRODUCTION

origin of Christianity in Egypt,1 since the traditions which attribute the evangelisation of Egypt to Mark and make him the first bishop of Alexandria are legendary in character.2 Intercourse, however, between Syria, especially Antioch and Egypt was easy and frequent and the Jewish colony in Egypt was so important that it must have been, so it seems, one of the first objectives of Christian evangelism. There is another reason why Christianity must have been taken to Egypt at a very early date. Paul writes to the Romans in 58 that he is thinking of undertaking a missionary journey to Spain (Romans xv. 23-4) since he finds that Christ has been preached everywhere in the eastern half of the Mediterranean. He would surely have thought of Egypt rather than Spain, if it had still been virgin country. Of course we cannot exclude the possibility that where there is no mention of a church in existence, evangelism had proved a failure or had left no lasting results. It is also possible that through some accident all the documents referring to a particular church have been destroyed. But such attempts to solve the problem are too simple to give any satisfaction and are tantamount to being unable to offer any satisfactory explanation. Walter Bauer3 investigated the history of Christianity in Egypt and came to the conclusion that the earliest ecclesiastical authors, 1 Duchesne, Histoire ancienne de VEglise, Paris, 1906-10, I, p. 331; Harnack, Mission*, II, pp. 706 ff.; Walter Bauer, Rechtglaubigkeit und Ketzerei im aeltesten Christentum, Tubingen, 1934, pp. 49 ff. Harnack (Mission, II, p. 91, n. i) believes that he can find proof of the existence of Christianity in Alexandria at a very early date in Acts xviii. 25, where the manuscript D. d. gig. say that Apollos was instructed in the word of the Lord 'in his own country'. But it is rash to see in this anything more than the conjecture of the recursor of D. Some people think that they can find an allusion to Christianity in a letter of Claudius to the people of Alexandria in 41. H. Idris Bell, Jews and Christians, illustrated from Greek papyri in the British Museum, London, 1924, pp. 1-37. Cf. Salamon Reinach, 'La premiere allusion au Christianisme dans 1'histoire', R.h.r., 1924, LXXXIX, pp. 108 ff. This opinion cannot be retained. Cf. Guignebert, Le Christ, p. 17. Out of the copious literature written about the letter of Claudius I will only quote W. Seston's article 'L'Empereur Claude et les Chretiens', R.h.p.r., 1931, XI, pp. 275 ff., where will be found a reference to the earlier literature on the subject. See also the bibliography given by Dom. Leclercq, 'Judaisme', D.A.C.L., VIII, col. 162. Of the literature later than Seston's article mention must be made of H. Janne, 'Une passage controverse de la lettre de Claude aux Alexandras', Revue archeologique, ser. 5, 1932, XXXV, pp. 268-82. La lettre de Claude aux Alexandrine et le Christianisme, Melanges Franz Cumont, Brussels, 1936, I, pp. 273-95 and Marcel Simon, 'A propos de la lettre de Claude aux Alexandras', Bulletin de la Faculte des lettres de Strasbourg, 1943, XXI, pp. 175-183. Seston and Simon think that the letter from Claudius refers to Judaism, Janne refers it to Christianity. 2 Concerning these traditions see my book Ev. de Me., Paris, 1909, pp. 13 ff. 8 Bauer, RechtgL u. Ketz., pp. 49 ff.

7

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

although they must have had some information of the origin of Christianity in Egypt said nothing about it, because by the standards of early Catholicism the earliest form of Christianity in Egypt was a heresy. In confirmation of this hypothesis, he points out, that in other places as well, Christianity in its earliest form did not conform to what later came to be regarded as orthodox. Observations such as these regarding the history of the earliest Christian missions show us that what was remembered of the earliest days pf Christianity passed through a kind of censorship so that there is only left for us what conformed to the doctrine of the church when it had become fixed in one single form. We can then understand the significance of the fact that with very few exceptions to hand1 the documents which we have as our sources for the early history of Christianity have a canonical character.2 The canon of the New Testament3 began to be established in the second half of the second century in the course of the church's struggle to preserve its traditions, teaching, and hopes against the 1 The list of documents which are not canonical and have been preserved is short. Apart from a few passages in the Memoirs of Hegesippus mentioned by Eusebius which were not written before the second half of the second century, there are only a few fragments from apocryphal gospels (Jewish Christian Gospels of the Hebrews, the Ebionites, the Nazarenes or the twelve apostles; the Gospel of Peter; the Gospel of the Egyptians) and a fragment from the Apocalypse of Peter. These texts were conveniently collected together by Preuschen (AntUegomena. Die Reste der ausserkanonischen Evangelien und Urchristlichen Uberlieferungen, Giessen, 1901). See also the larger collection which extends over a considerably longer period published in German under the direction of E. Hennecke (Neutestamentliche Apokryphen*t Tubingen, 1924). The fragments of the apocryphal gospels and the Apocalypse of Peter cannot be dated before the second century. They belong to types of Christianity recognisably different from that of the great church but they cannot be distinguished and placed with any precision. * I am using the term 'canonical* in a wider sense than that in which it is commonly used, intending it to cover the works of the apostolic fathers (Clement of Rome, the Didache, Ignatius, Polycarp, Barnabas, and Hernias). At one time they were included in the New Testament but were not kept in it because it became clear that the authors of the books did not belong to the apostolic period. 8 On the history of the canon of the New Testament there exists abundant literature. The most important work of a very conservative character is that of Zahn, G./C, unfinished. .Cf. Grundgiss, Der Geschichte des Neutestamentlichen Kanons*, Leipzig, 1904, and the series Forschungen zur Geschichte des Neutestamentlichen Kanons und der altkirchlichen Litteratur, published under his editorship from 1881 onwards which contains most of his works. Zahn's ideas were vigorously contested by Harnack, Das Neue Testament um 200, Frieburg im Breisgau, 1889, as well as Die Enstehung des Neuen Testaments und die Wichtigsten Folgen der Neuen Schopfungt Leipzig, 1914. See also Loisy, Histoire du Canon du Nouveau Testament, Paris, 1891; Leipoldt, Geschichte des Neutestamentlichen Kanons, Leipzig, 1907-8; Jacquier, La Nouveau testament dans VEglise chre'tienne, Paris, 1911, I; Lagrange, Histoire ancienne du Canon du Nouveau Testament, Paris, 1933.

8

INTRODUCTION

threats of Marcionism and Gnosticism. The canon defined what the church regarded as the authentic standard of its doctrine. By fixing the canon, the church set limits on her own development without consciously intending to make any innovation or arrive at any authoritative decision. She was inspired with the kind of conception of the apostolate and apostolicity which prevailed on the eve of the second generation. The New Testament was intended to be the corpus of apostolic writings which had been preserved by the church; there is nothing to suggest that those who began to close the collection had any other idea in mind except to select books which were supposed to have come from the apostles.1 But they worked with an artificial idea of the apostolate. Also they could not pick out from the books preserved by the church those which were really old and might have been written by men of the first generation of Christians. In reality, books which possessed a certain inherent authority were considered apostolic much more because their teaching harmonised with that of the church than because they did not bear the stamp of a late period. Books were admitted into the New Testament according to an estimate of their value.2 That can be inferred from the arbitrary combinations of inconsistent traditions to which recourse had to be made in order to establish a posteriori the apostolic character of certain books, notably the Johannine writings and so justify their inclusion in the canon. The New Testament therefore is documentary evidence for the Greco-Roman Christianity of the second half of the second century no less than for that of the first century.3 The formation of the New Testament assured the preservation of precious texts but created conditions exceptionally unfavourable for the preservation of other documents, the loss of which* historians can only deplore. The canon acted as a veritable censor, with the result 1 Except always the Gospels of Mark and Luke which were known not to have been written by apostles but possessed such authority that it was impossible to exclude them. Mark and Luke were accepted as apostolic on the ground that the one had Peter's authority the other Paul's. Cf. Irenaeus, Adv. haer. iii. I, I. 2 This did not apply when the time came to close the canon finally. This was only done slowly and with much hesitation and delay. When it eventually took place the liturgical practice of the majority of the churches in their readings at public worship was the deciding factor. 8 Heiler (Urkirche und Ostkirche, Marburg, 1937, p. 94) makes the same inference when he writes: 'the New Testament is the document of the catholic church', but he is making a theological not a historical judgement when he adds, 'the New Testament is not only the document of the pure gospel of Jesus Christ; it is also the document of the one catholic apostolic church, which confesses the Nicene creed'.

9

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

that they were thrown in the waste paper basket and disappeared. It stands between us and the realities of the first century like a filter or screen which prevents us from seeing in the sequence of events ending in early Catholicism anything which fails to harmonise with it. We cannot therefore construct a true and factual history of primitive Christianity, as things are, not just because the preservation of the texts has depended on chance but much more on account of the character of the texts themselves. While, however, when we consider the facts of the canon, we are compelled to give up the idea of composing a complete history of primitive Christianity, at the same time we can see another way of attacking the problem. That is to investigate the constitution of the early catholic church for which the New Testament is the earliest and most authentic documentary source of information and to pick out of it those elements which we know, with some certainty, belong to Christianity in the first century. What calls for study is the appearance in history of the early catholic church, i.e. the formation, stabilisation, and organisation of a Christian religious society. The establishment of a society of this kind is the normal result of the advent of a new religious experience.1 This is not a chance phenomenon but for its appearance depends on certain conditions and laws. It develops with an appearance of inevitability resulting from the process of natural selection, which eliminates those forms without survival value for a religious society, substituting those which we have. A further process of selection operates upon these so as to leave those forms which have the strongest survival value and possess most vitality. This process is determined by the laws of religious sociology and proves a guide for the historian and gives direction to his researches. The historical method is always the same in principle but varies in application. Military history is not treated exactly as political history. The procedure in studying the history of law is not precisely the same as in studying the history of philosophy or of science or literature. When we come to the history of religions or of one particular religion, we must not abandon the rigorous standard of 1 In using the term 'religious experience* for want of a better one, I am well aware of the objections raised against its use and do not underestimate their force. (See for instance Hubert and Mauss, Melanges d'histoire des religions, Paris, 1909, pp. xli f.; Loisy, Les mysteres paiens et le mystere chretien*, Paris, 1930, p. 345. We mean by the term 'religious experience' only the subjective feeling of being acted upon by a power beyond oneself without any implication that the experience when it arises spontaneously proves to be a source of knowledge.

10

INTRODUCTION

historical criticism in order to square the result of research with the postulate of this or that theology; neither must we mark out in advance a sphere prohibited to the historian; history is absolutely free from any positive or negative theology and must remain so. The business of the historian is only to establish the facts and set them out in order by their mutual connection. It is not his job to evaluate them and to disengage their deep significance and their spiritual meaning or even to discover if they correspond to a transcendent reality. What is peculiar in religious history comes from the fact that it is concerned with a twofold object, religion being both individual and collective. Primarily it is a complex of feelings, emotions, intuitions, ideas, and representations; in other words, it is a peculiar and specific form of interior life which has direct influence on the intellectual and practical bearings of the subject. If we take into consideration only its exterior manifestations such as doctrine, institutions, and rites, we shall never understand what religion is.1 While the religious life is the most personal thing in the world, if it is not to evaporate completely, it must find its expression in the social life of a religious society organised in such a way that it can endure. Social religion emerges from personal religion: the converse is also true. All personal religion comes to birth in the setting of a social religion, even when it assumes a new form. It is purely a question of theory and impossible to verify by observation whether personal or social religion appears first. The religious experience of Jesus occurred in the setting of Judaism to which it owes its form and many of its constituent elements. But it is not the inevitable result of Judaism. In the first century there were hundreds of thousands of Jews in exactly the same position as Jesus and subject to the same influences but there was only one Jesus.2 In comparing personal religion with social religion there is a striking analogy with the comparative characteristics of the two kinds of religion distinguished by Bergson3 as (i) the open or dynamic 1 Concerning the fact that religious history is in the last resort a study of human experiences and feelings and therefore demands sympathy and understanding of men, see the reflections of H. Usener, 'Mythologie', Archf. Rev. 1904, VII, p. 29. Because in the final analysis the history of religion deals with personalities and every human personality is a mystery, we cannot in this sphere expect to arrive at completely exhaustive results. Snouck-Hurgronje (in Bertholet, Lehrbuch der Religionsgeschichte3, Tubingen, 1925, I, p. 671) writes concerning Mahomet: 'The lives of men who make history in the final analysis evades the historian's criticism.' 2 Similar observations can be made concerning all religions the origin of which can be known. 3 Bergson, Les deux sources de la morale et de la religion, Paris, 1932.

II

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

religion and (2) the closed or static religion, (i) being the spontaneous outburst of spiritual energy, (2) being a certain way of living, thinking, feeling, arid acting imposed by the environment. In reality, however, there is no religion purely dynamic or purely static; all that happens is that one characteristic or the other predominates in a religion. The two forms of religion are closely bound up together in so far as a dynamic religion becomes stable and organised, suffers degradation, and gives birth to a static religion. The converse also happens so far as a static religion is the setting from which a dynamic religion can emerge. Religious experience is a form of interior life which in some ways approaches approximately to an emotional phenomenon, in others to an intellectual phenomenon. As it finds an appropriate intellectual symbol to express its emotional impulses, it associates together two apparently contradictory convictions. The first belongs to the pessimistic turn of mind, the conviction of a person that his true destiny is not fulfilled and that neither by his own efforts nor by the natural turn of events will it ever be. There exists no religion for those who are content and satisfied and, while religion is not merely the expression of deep human anxiety, it begins with that. The man who remains anxious is resigned, in despair, or in revolt, according to his temperament; he is not religious. To be religious there must be associated with the pessimistic element an optimistic element, the conviction that the destiny which a man is unable to fulfil if left to himself can be realised by a transcendent power, who is kindly disposed towards him or can be made and kept kindly disposed to him on certain moral or ritual conditions. The destiny of man, the transcendent power, the conditions which must be fulfilled to make this power kindly disposed may be thought of in countless ways. This is what creates the great diversity in religions. That does not matter but without convictions of this kind a living religion cannot exist.1 If this religious experience remained purely a matter of feeling without finding any intellectual expression, it would be reduced to a series of isolated moments, which would consequently be unstable and fleeting. In the realm of thought the results of the labour of abstraction are fixed by words which save the trouble of continually repeating the work of abstraction. In the same way the religious feeling 1 It is true that there are certain kinds of religion which do not appear to possess the idea of a transcendent power. Such is the Religion of Humanity developed by Loisy at the end of his life. But it may be asked whether religions of this kind are anything more than the residue of religions. 12

INTRODUCTION

is fixed and becomes capable of being developed and communicated by finding expression in ideas which are rudimentary and isolated to begin with but later are developed and organised into systems. There is a natural temptation to confuse the projection of religion into the intellectual sphere in this way with religion itself but we must not do this, because, although it is the expression of a religion, as an expression it is only a symbol. That is why Auguste Sabatier1 says that religious knowledge has a symbolic character. We must go further than that and say that there is no knowledge but only religious symbols.2 In every religion there exists an expanding force which compels it to become a conquering power and to assume a social form. Although the conquest of men's minds by a summary or systematically developed doctrine is the plainest form of expansion, there is also active, what is perhaps essential, the mysterious phenomenon of spiritual contagion, the action of soul upon soul, of person on person.3 A religion has not really come to a head and found itself until it has given birth to a religious community. But when religion ceases to be personal and becomes social, it changes its character, because the relationship between religious experience and doctrine is reversed. Religious experience instead of preceding doctrine follows it. Intellectual assent to a statement of belief tends to become a substitute for faith; in every case assent precedes experience which becomes dependent on it. Doctrine tends to become an object in itself and a truth in no way dependent on the experience which created it. In this way religion is degraded into a rationalistic system of ideas. Rites and practises also become detached from the religious experience. Religions usually degenerate in the end into a rationalistic theology, a formal morality, and a ritualistic cult. When in this way rites and practises are detached from religious experience, they can only survive as a form of restraint which the religious society exercises on its members. Then the outsider defines religion as *a bag 1

A. Sabatier, Esquisse d'une philosophic de la religion d9apres la psychologic et I'histoire, Paris, 1897, pp. 353 ff. (Eng. trans. Outlines of a philosophy of religion, London, 1897, pp. 322 ff.). 2 For the idea that religious representations are only images see the remarks of H. Usener, Arch.f. Relav., 1904, VII, p. 31. 8 This is what the apostle Paul felt when he explained the success of his preaching of the Gospel by saying that his preaching at Corinth was not with enticing words of human wisdom but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power (i Cor. ii. 4). 13

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

of superstitions which thwart the free development of our faculties'.1 Sometimes a religion which is nothing more has ceased to live. To take religion in this state of existence and define it as religion is almost the same as taking a decomposing corpse and defining it as life and a living being. When a religion is living, those who belong to it feel themselves united together by a bond of a peculiar kind. However important to the community may be the bond of experience, convictions and hopes, doctrine and discipline, rites and practices, the specifically religious bond is something different. It does not act directly but indirectly and is made up of the personal loyalty and attachment which each member of the group feels for the transcendent power who is its peculiar religious object. Through him they are united to one another. The Christians of the first generation felt themselves brothers, but brothers 'in Christ', which means that their brotherhood did not depend on some humanitarian conception but on the transcendent action of Christ. The peculiar religious object which gave birth to the church was the risen and glorified Christ but the faith in the religious object was still only the mental and spiritual necessary condition for the birth of a new religion. If the creative principle of a religious society is transcendent and belongs to something beyond, it is all the same on the level of human and social realities that the religious community comes into existence. Its stable existence for any length of time depends on its submission to the laws governing the stability and life of all human societies. A religious community of which the Christian church is one example is a social phenomenon; if it fails to satisfy the laws governing the life of societies it is doomed to disappear.2 It must also comply to certain peculiar conditions; otherwise it will change its character and cease to be a religious society. If we analyse the most essential of these conditions we can see to what points the historian of the birth of the church must pay attention. No society can live for any length of time unless it defines its boundaries in respect of other groups, especially those with which it comes in contact and works. That is why the church possessed a rite of separation and admission. This was the function of baptism.8 For 1

Salamon Reinach, Orpheus, histoire generate des religions2, Paris, 1909, p. 4. Thus Troeltsch (Die Soziallerhen der christlichen Kirchen und Gruppen, Tubingen, 1912, p. 5) speaks of 'the sociological consequences of the phenomena of religion*. 8 This was the primitive significance of baptism. It remained even after other meanings came to be added. See E.P., pp. 295 ff. 2

14

INTRODUCTION

this reason also there must be kept alive within the group a consciousness of the religious object which gave birth to it. If the group's consciousness of this becomes feeble or disappears, it ceases to have any reason for existing and disintegrates or lets itself be absorbed by one of the religious groups with which it happens to come into contact. If its consciousness of the religious object is to be preserved and live, it must from the first be expressed in doctrine. In the past perhaps too much emphasis has been laid on doctrine as the expression of religious speculation and not enough on its sociological function. For Christianity the development of its doctrine into a system of ideas expressing its religious object so as to ensure its independence with respect to other groups was particularly urgent. For, although it had a lively sense of its novelty, yet it kept itself, ideally at any rate, solidly bound up with Judaism from which it had emerged and of which it felt itself to be the fulfilment. Christianity only succeeded after surmounting many difficulties and struggles in formulating its belief in its own independence in such a way that it could feel itself the embodiment of the ideal of Judaism and at the same time independent of Judaism as it empirically existed. In the realm of doctrine the problem for Christianity to solve in order to find its equilibrium was determined by the fact that, while it had its own peculiar religious object, i.e. the Christ, it did not in any way repudiate the traditional religious object of Judaism, i.e. God. Its conception of Christ and of God had therefore to be reconciled in such a way that they remained united without being confused. Not only must theologians think out and formulate doctrine but all the members of the group must be fairly clear in their minds what the doctrine is. That is why a teaching office is needed in a religious society. One of the functions of ritual in particular is to keep alive not merely the concept of the particular religious object, but also, what is much more important, a feeling of love for it. The principles and aims of a religious society may belong to the realm of ideas but its life is cast on the level of human realities. On this account a minimum of organisation at least is needed. Circumstances may allow it to become established in the general social setting of its life which it will tend to absorb, or it may be compelled to set its face against its environment and to fight it. Early Christianity was in the latter plight up to the time of 15

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

Constantine.1 In these conditions it had to create weapons of attack and defence for its own safety. It had also to defend itself against rival religions which were fighting it or trying to find a foothold in its bosom. A religious society has only a precarious existence if it allows its principles and teaching to be contradicted and disregarded by the doctrinal assertions or practical behaviour of its members. It has therefore to exercise disciplinary action on its members with a view to preventing deviations of this kind, to restrain those who would deviate too far and to expel from its bosom those who definitely show themselves to be disobedient to all warnings. A religious society can only assert itself and maintain its existence after creating the instruments necessary for the discharge of its functions. We have just recounted the most essential of these. A history of the birth of the church will have to demonstrate how the Christian society—or rather how certain forms and groups within this society—gradually adapted itself to the conditions belonging to the stable existence of a religious society, while other groups and forms are shown to have been unable to comply with those conditions and so disappeared, sometimes leaving a confused memory at other times without leaving a trace of their existence. The history of early Christianity is dominated by the fact that it not only developed on Jewish soil where it was born, but it also underwent a parallel development in the environment to which it was very soon transplanted. At that time it still possessed very great plasticity without any fixed form either in the sphere of doctrine or of organisation. It was not yet a religion but only the germ of one. Greek Christianity was not a religion adapted to a new environment but a religion which grew on Greek or Hellenistic soil from a religious principle indigenous to Palestine and came to maturity in Asia Minor in a form destined to last.2 When about 1900 the methods of comparative religion began to be applied to the history of Christian origins, it was thought that many of the problems would be solved by the phrase, 'Christianity is a synchretistic religion'.3 Generalisations do not enable us to answer 1 Except for the first generation when Christianity in Jerusalem in its legalistic form was treated by the Jewish authorities with considerable tolerance and the Roman authorities were unaware of the existence of Hellenistic Christianity or confused it with Judaism which enjoyed the privilege of a religio licita. * Guignebert, Le Christ, pp. 129 f. 8 This phrase was developed with brilliance by H. Gunkel, Zum religionsgeschichtlichen Verstandniss des Neuen Testaments, Gottingen, 1903. See also R. Reitzenstein, Die hellenistischen Mysterienreligionen, Leipzig, Berlin, 1910', 1927.

16

INTRODUCTION

the question, whether Greek religious elements have become incorporated in the make-up of Christianity or if some ideological material of Greek origin is to be found there. What is the meaning of this fact, supposing it to be established? An element of one religion is only absorbed by another if the element finds a soil favourable for its development, i.e. if there exists a correspondence in spirit between the foreign element and some principle already present in the receptive religion.1 In order to decide whether certain elements in a religion have been borrowed from another it is not enough to compare rites, ideas, statements of doctrine, or institutions. It must be seen what is expressed and covered by these things, whether the experiences and feelings, which are the essence of rej ligion, are the same in each case; in other words, we must find out if Greek religious elements have really penetrated into the heart of Christianity or whether Christianity has merely borrowed from Greece certain means of expression.2 As Christianity came to be developed on Greek soil, certain terms and ideas which did not mean the same thing for the Jew and the Greek were transposed. Both Semites and Greeks maintained that human personality is made up of two elements, one material, the other spiritual. But the Jew thought that if these two elements are separated, the human personality is destroyed; the body returns to the dust of which it is made, likewise the spiritual element i.e. the breath of life returns to God. For the Greek, on the other hand, the association of the two elements is unnatural and can only be provisional. The soul is bound to a body in which it is shut up as in a prison or tomb; it will only fully expand when it is set free, i Cor. xv where Paul argues against certain Corinthians, who deny the resurrection as if it was a denial of any life beyond the grave, shows how certain expressions could bear different meanings for Jews and Greeks. There was here a source of misunderstanding which might have the greatest consequences. Both Jews and Greeks were dualists in outlook but their dualism differed in each case. The dualism of the Jew was temporal; he opposed the present world to the world to come. The dualism of the Greek was ontological; he expressed himself by spatial images and 1 This is a justifiable comment of Reitzenstein, 'Religionsgeschichte und Eschatologie', Z.N.T.W., 1912, XIII, p. 23. a Guignebert (Le Christ, p. 336) appears to me to give the true meaning to the facts when he shows Paulinism to be not a Greek expression of Christianity but 'a Christian adaptation of the spirit behind the Hellenistic mystery religions'. 2 17

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

opposed the world above to the world below which is a symbolical expression for the opposition between flesh or matter and spirit. The transposition of Christianity from the environment of Judaism to that of Hellenism had profound and lasting consequences. The God of Hellenism is a static God who dwells in realms above; man must struggle to rise to God by purifying himself from material elements in order to be able to participate in life divine. The God of Judaism is essentially transcendent but He is above all a god who acts and is constantly intervening in the world's history. He is dynamic. Ever since the creation which was the first victory gained by him over the powers of chaos, He has been in conflict with Satan and this conflict will go on until every hostile power has been annihilated. In consequence, Greek Christianity in its formation has found it a hard task to think out and express in Greek terms an action of a God who was conceived of in the setting of Jewish thought and to translate into static language a dynamic conception of religion. In those conditions it is not surprising that it has been difficult for Christians to attain perfect balance while on certain points it has not done so even yet.1 How much of the early history of Christianity do we need to study for an understanding of the birth of the church? To divide history into periods where there has been continuous development is a device to which recourse must be made if the historian is to arrange his work satisfactorily. Christianity in the course of its history passed through a succession of phases perceptibly differing from one another in aspect and direction, due sometimes to internal developments and at other times changing external circumstances. We have to consider the period during which the church with its essential elements assumed the shape which it possessed at the end of the second century. By then its general structure, although not immutably fixed, was at any rate so formed that, while it afterwards grew still more definite, was yet capable of adaptation to changing circumstances but did not undergo any radical transformation. I shall not, however, attempt within the limits of an outline to write the history of Christianity up to the end of the second century. It will be sufficient to 1 To give only one example, Christian theology has never discovered a satisfactory solution of the problem of theodicy, i.e. a reconciliation of divine omnipotence with the existence of evil. Perhaps the reason is that it tried to find, by the help of a static conception concerning the being of God, a solution of a problem created by the essentially dynamic conception of a great struggle between God and Satan.

18

INTRODUCTION

notice the facts concerning the formation of the vital organs of the church. It took the church more than a century and a half to possess these organs discharging their proper functions. From 70 to 78 Christianity was fully conscious of its complete independence from Jewish communities but it possessed the nucleus of a corpus of sacred writings complementary to the Old Testament only a century later. The period running from the death of Jesus to the end of the second century can be quite plainly divided into two about the year 70. At that time Christianity passed through a crisis in both growth and adaptation. Also the first generation of Christians was disappearing and except by the oral tradition the church ceased to be tied to the witnesses of the facts which had created the faith and to those who had proclaimed the earliest forms of doctrine. Tradition then became a preponderant factor, all the more easily because the phenomena of pneumatism abated and tended to disappear, as though the outburst had exhausted those who were possessed. At the same time the expectation of Christ's return and the arrival of a new world assumed a theoretical character and ceased to be a dynamic conviction possessing men's souls. Without forgetting that its consummation lay in its last days, i.e. in the distant future the church settled on earth and took root. This is the end of the period of creative activity and the beginning of that of stabilisation and organisation.1 About the same time the church was compelled to adapt itself to somewhat new conditions. Up to 70 those forms of Christianity which were not infected with anti-legalism and anti-ritualism enjoyed a large measure of tolerance from the Jewish community to which they were organically linked. After the fall of Jerusalem Judaism fell back on itself and became identified with Pharisaism. It then turned fundamentally hostile to every form of Christianity. This forced the new religion to become conscious of itself as an independent entity. Even those forms of Christianity which had previously shown themselves unable to understand the position of the apostle Paul were affected. The Judaic opposition to Paulinism lost all meaning if it did not completely vanish. All that was left of Jewish Christianity in Palestine after 70 was reduced to such a precarious kind of existence that Christians emigrated to the Greek world especially to Asia Minor. On account of these happenings the 1 This must be taken cum grano sails. Stabilisation and organisation began with the birth of the faith but in the second generation they were the dominant factors at work.

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

centre of gravity for the church shifted from East to West. Jerusalem and Antioch had originally been the two foci of the church. After 70 the former retained only a theoretical importance; the centre of Christianity was in the Greek world. Gradually and not without resistance from the East the centre of Christianity shifted again and became finally fixed at Rome. It would be an exaggeration to say that Christianity up to 64 lived at peace with the Roman Empire; for the most part it was unnoticed or rather it was confused with Judaism and enjoyed the privileged position given to the latter. Even, however, before 64, incidents arose, sometimes spontaneously, sometimes through public opinion being inflamed by Jews, but usually only the active preachers of the gospel were disturbed. But this state of affairs came to an end in 64 when after the fire of Rome Christians were accounted responsible for the catastrophe and a large number of them were massacred. The church could no more entertain the illusion that it could find any tolerable modus vivendi with the empire. Somewhat against its own wishes it was forced to adapt itself to a new situation where it could not have any legal status. 65 marks the beginning for the church of a new crisis of adaptation and growth in directions which determined its definite characteristics. This does not mean, however, that they were acquired all at once. We can recognise another transition, real although perhaps not quite so clear, at the end of the first century. In Clement of Rome can be found a distinct formulation of certain essential elements of the catholic conception of the church produced only as an ideal theory but nevertheless as a definite programme. The pre-catholicism of Clement of Rome can be distinguished from the early Catholicism prevalent at the close of the second century by the following features, (i) In early Catholicism there was a mystical element which came from Johannine theology in contrast with the emphasis on morals in Clement. (2) Pre-catholicism was still a local form of Christianity peculiar to Rome and it is impossible to know how far it was accepted beyond Rome. But early Catholicism is a general form of Christianity catholic in the true sense of the word. At the end of the second century episcopal power and, in a general way, the authority of the clergy had ceased to be a programme as at the end of the first; they had become a reality. Lastly, early Catholicism became much more of a system than pre-catholicism ever was; it was equipped also with weapons of organised defence, the essential 20

INTRODUCTION

ones being the rule of faith, episcopal power, and the canon of the New Testament which was the most essential of all. All these came into existence or received precise definition in the course of the second century so that the church could withstand the assaults of heresy. 2.—THE CHRONOLOGICAL SETTING OF PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY 1

Only a few facts of Christian history can be dated by their synchronisation with general history. The first of these facts in chronological order is the persecution ordered by Herod Agrippa I against leaders of the church in Jerusalem when James, son of Zebedee and also without doubt John his brother, were killed and Peter was forced to leave Jerusalem. The story of this persecution in Acts (xii. 1-19) is immediately followed by that of the king's death, which happened in such impressive circumstances that the compiler of Acts felt that it was God's punishment for ordering the church to be persecuted. The one event must have then followed very quickly on the other. The story to be found in Josephus,2 although it omits the more legendary charm of that in Acts, confirms it on the essential point by saying that Agrippa reigned for three years; that makes the date of his death 44-3 Herod appeared in the theatre at Caesarea at some games which he was giving in honour of the emperor. His silver robe was so magnificent that flatterers began to acclaim him as a god. Shortly after the king saw an owl above him and was seized with such violent pain in his stomach that he had to be carried away.4 He died five days later. According to Dion Cassius5 the games at Caesarea seem to have been held at the same time as those which took place in the spring in Rome in honour of Claudius' return from Britain. This confirms the story in Acts which tells us that Peter was put in prison at the time of the feast of Unleavened Bread (xii. 3). The persecution therefore took place about Easter 44. The next fact capable of being dated although with less accuracy 1 For a discussion of what is only given here in summary form concerning the facts refer to my 'Essai sur la chronologic paulinienne', R.h.r., 1912, LXV, pp. 2 285 ff. and my Introd. IV, i, pp. 81 ff. Josephus, A.j. xix. 8, 2. 8 On the accession of Claudius (41) which Agrippa furthered, he received Judaea and Samaria (Josephus, A.j. xix. 5, i; G.j. ii. 51, 5; Dion Cassius, Ix. 8). 4 The sudden violence of the disease suggests a crushing attack of appendicitis. * Dion Cassius, Ix. 23.

21

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

is Paul's stay at Corinth during which he appeared before the proconsul Gallio (Acts xviii. 12-17). The date of Gallio's proconsulate is fixed by an inscription of Delphi1 which is unfortunately mutilated but still indicates that Gallio was proconsul of Achaea in the spring of 52. Was he then at the beginning or at the end of his period of office? Governors of provinces entered office in spring2 and retained their powers until their successors arrived.3 In 25 Tiberius decided that the new magistrates must have left Rome before ist June.4 In 42 Claudius advanced this date to ist April and the following year he fixed it on I3th April.5 Gallio's assumption of office can then be fixed for the beginning of May. The fact that his name is mentioned in connection with the grant or confirmation by Claudius of privileges to the Delphians makes it probable that he participated in the negotiations which preceded the imperial decision so that we can rightly conclude that Gallio was proconsul of Achaea from May 51 to May 52.® Did Paul's appearance before Gallio really take place at the end of his eighteen months' stay at Corinth, as the position of the story in Acts seems to show?7 The Acts, after telling of Paul's break with the synagogue at Corinth, his establishment in the house of Titus Justus, and the conversion of Crispus with many Corinthians (xviii. 5-8), relates a vision in the course of which the Lord says to Paul, 'Be not afraid, but speak, and hold not thy peace. For I am with thee and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee: for I have much people in this city.' After this vision, Paul settles at Corinth to preach the word of God for a year and a half (xviii. 9-11). Next to this story of the vision is placed without any transition or link the story of Paul's appearance before Gallio (xviii. 12-17), and it is then said that after this Paul stayed some days longer in Corinth before embarking for Syria (xviii. 18). The arrangement of this story shows some anomalies. The incident of Paul's appearance before Gallio is inserted between the 1 This inscription was published for the first time by Borguet, De rebus delphicis imperatoriae aetatis capita duo, Montepassulano, 1905, p. 63. 2 Mommsen (Le droit public remain, trans. F. Girard, Paris, 1893, p. 294), gives the date ist July. It appears to have only a hypothetical value. 8 Bouche*-Leclercq, Manuel des institutions romaines, Paris, 1886, p. 203, n. 2. 4 6 Dion Cassius, Ivii. 14. Dion Cassius, Ivii. 11-17. 6 This is also the conclusion of Ed. Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 37. It is not, however, completely out of the range of possibility that these dates may be put a year later. 7 On this question see my article *Le vision de Paul a Corinthe et sa comparution devant Gallion', R.h.p.r., 1932, XII, pp. 321-33. (My previous conclusions need amendment after this article.) See further, pp. 479 ff.

22

INTRODUCTION

comment of verse n on the duration of Paul's stay at Corinth, which normally would have appeared at the story's end, and the mention of his departure without being connected with it. Also it is plain that a lacuna exists before the story of the vision as nothing is said of the possible risks which the apostle was running and made him think of leaving the town. The story would be much more coherent if verses 9-11 came after verse 17. The accusation of the Jews would have appeared such a threat to Paul that he would have thought of leaving the place. The rearrangement may have been determined by a desire to play down the gravity of the incident. If this is the case then the appearance before Gallio took place not, as is customarily supposed, at the end of Paul's stay at Corinth but considerably earlier, at the time of his break with the synagogue. Several authors1 think that the Jews made their complaint when Gallio had just assumed office; they would have hoped to obtain the object of their desires with greater ease from a magistrate who was still badly informed about the situation. Nothing in the text supports this hypothesis.2 Paul had to leave Corinth in the autumn.3 The break with the synagogue, the appearance before Gallio, and the vision appeared to have taken place at least a year before his departure, if allowance is made for the important effect of Paul's preaching to the pagan population of Corinth. If the appearance before Gallio took place at the earliest in the spring of 51, which was the date of Gallio's arrival at Corinth, then the autumn of 52 is the earliest date which can be assigned for Paul's departure from Corinth. If account is taken of all the happenings between his departure from Corinth and his arrest at Jerusalem which took place at the latest in the spring of 58, Paul's departure from Corinth cannot be placed as late as the autumn of 53. His eighteen months' stay in Achaea therefore probably lasted from the spring of 51 to the autumn of 52. A third synchronisation is to be found in the biography of the apostle Paul. His arrest at Jerusalem took place two years before the 1 Deissmann, Paulus, Tubingen, 1911, p. 161; Harnack, 'Chronologische Berechnung des Tage von Damaskus\ S.B.A., 1912, p. 674. 2 Preuschen (Apostelgeschichte, Tubingen, 1912, p. 113) observes that if the author of Acts had wanted to say what is attributed to him, he would not have said 'Gallic being proconsul'. 3 When he passed by Ephesus after his departure from Corinth Paul refused to stop there but promised to return (xviii. 19-21) most probably because he wanted to embark for Syria before navigation suffered its annual interruption.

*3

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

recall of the procurator Felix and his replacement by Porcius Festus (Acts xxiv. 27).1 The Chronica of Eusebius2 places the recall of Felix in the eighteenth year of Claudius and the tenth of Agrippa II, i.e. 54. But since according to Eusebius3 Festus was sent by Nero, there is certainly an error in the Chronicle.4 But some writers5 put the recall of Felix at the very beginning of Nero's reign in 55 or 56. In support of this date Harnack observes that according to Josephus6 when the Jews accused Felix before Nero he only owed his safety to his brother Pallas who fell into disgrace sometime before I3th February 55.' Harnack confesses that in giving this last date Tacitus made a mistake of a year and in this way is made to agree with the Chronicle. But Schurer8 has correctly observed that it is impossible to fit into the four months separating the accession of Nero (i3th Oct. 54) from the downfall of Pallas (sometime before i3th Feb. 55) all that part of the period of Felix's government which according to Josephus included his recall, his return to Rome, the complaint of the Jews against him and the intervention of Pallas on his behalf, all taking place in Nero's reign.9 With Schurer10 it must be supposed 1 Some authors (V. Weber, Kritische der Exegese des neunten Kapitels des Romerbriefs, Wurzburg, 1889, p. 89; Wellhausen, 'Noten zur Apostelgeschichte', N.G., 1907, pp. 8 f.) return to an interpretation which was given in the seventeenth century by Fr. Petau and refer the two years mentioned by the Acts to the duration of Felix's term of office. This opinion, it appears, cannot be retained. 8 Eusebius, Werke (the Berlin academy edition), V; Die Chronik aus dem Armenischen ttbersetzt herausgegeben von J. Karst, Leipzig, 1911, p. 215. The revision of St. Jerome (Eusebius, Werke, vii. i; Die Chronik des Hieronymus bearbeitet von R. Helm, Leipzig, 1911, p. 182), gives the second year of Nero (A.D. 55). 8 Eusebius, H.E., ii. 22, i. * Schurer ('Zur Chronologic des Lebens Pauli', Z. f. Wiss. Th., 1898, p. 21 f. and Gesch.9 I, p. 578) shows that for the period which concerns us Eusebius had at his disposal only dates given by Josephus and that those which do not come from this source are pure conjectures. Erbes (Todestage, p. 27) supposes that in the sources used by Eusebius the facts were dated by the years of the reign of Agrippa II which were reckoned according to two systems between which existed a difference of five years. Cf. Schurer, Gesch. I. p. 589, n. 7. 5 Weber, Krit. Gesch., p, 182 f.; Harnack, G.S.L., II. i, p. 233; Wellhausen, 'Noten zur Apostelgeschichte', N.G., 1907, pp. 8 f.; Schwarz, 'Zur Chronologic des Paulus', N.G., 1907, pp. 285 f. 'Josephus, A.j. xx. 8, 9. 7 Britannicus' fourteenth birthday (Tacitus Ann. xiii. 14-15). According to Suetonius (Claudius 27) Britannicus was born twenty days after the accession of 8 Claudius, i.e. I3th February 41. Schurer, Z./. zviss. Th., 1898, pp. 35 f. •According to Acts xxi. 38 the Roman tribune who arrested Paul mistook him for an Egyptian Jew who had just caused a Messianic insurrection which had been completely put down. According to Josephus (A.j. xx. 8; G.j. ii. 13, 1-5) the riot caused by the Egyptian took place a little after Nero had begun his reign. Unfortunately the chronology furnished by Acts is far from reliable. 10 Schurer, Gesch. I. I, p. 578; Z./. toiss. Th.t 1898, pp. 35 f.

*4

INTRODUCTION

that Pallas even after his downfall exercised some influence1 or we must even agree with Erbes and Schwertz2 that the Jews only imagined that Pallas intervened in favour of Felix in order to explain why their complaint which they thought well founded was checked. The date cannot be placed later than 62 because in that summer Albinus, the next governor but one to Felix, arrived in Palestine and Festus must have held office at least two years, if we take into account the events recorded by Josephus3 as happening when he was governor. The year 60 is then the latest date for Felix's recall4 but it might have been one or even two years earlier. I shall retain the year 60, because according to Josephus Festus' term of office appears to have been brief and the interval between Paul's departure from Corinth and his arrest at Jerusalem must have been at least five years.5 The setting determined by these three dates must constitute the basis for any attempt to construct the chronology for a biography of the apostle Paul by making use of the short but exact narrative of his relations with the church at Jerusalem in the epistle to the Galatians (i. 15; ii. io).6 Three years7 after his conversion he came to Jerusalem where he remained only fifteen days during which he saw none of the apostles save Cephas and James (i. 19). Then after fourteen years8 in the course of a second visit he had conversations with 'the pillars of the church', James, Cephas, and John. These conversations which are generally given the somewhat formal title of 'the conference at Jerusalem' must have taken place at the latest 1 Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 53, remarks that according to Tacitus (Ann. xiii. 23) Pallas succeeded in 55 in getting a prosecution which was brought against him set aside and that up to the end of his life he remained in possession of his large fortune. This shows that his disgrace did not involve for him complete loss of respectability. 2 Erbes, Todestagey p. 17; Schwartz, Zur Chronologic, p. 286. 8 4 Josephus, A.j. xx. 8, 9-11. Schurer, Gesch. I, p. 579. 5 Nothing can be made of Acts xxiv. io, where Paul appearing before Felix says to him that he has governed the people 'for many years*. This may be only a conventional phrase. * In this narrative Paul corrects the tendacious account of his relations with the church at Jerusalem which had been given to the Galatians. He has therefore to weigh all his statements carefully in order not to give his opponents any ground for attacking him. 7 This must mean 'in the course of the third year*. It may have been less than three years. It is less probable that he means somewhat more than three years as Paul would have been inclined to give the impression of as long an interval as possible between his conversion and his first visit to Jerusalem. 8 With the great majority of scholars I understand 'at the end of 14 years' although grammatically the phrase can mean 'in the course of the following fourteen years'.

25

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

either at the beginning of 44 or the end of 43. Concessions, which were made to Paul's ideas about the freedom of Gentiles from the demands of the Jewish law, may have been sufficient to incense public opinion against the leaders of the church at Jerusalem which was only satisfied by the persecution undertaken by Agrippa. By working backwards from the date of the conference it is possible to calculate the date of Paul's conversion. Some scholars1 think that the fourteen years means 'fourteen years after the first visit' and that at first sight seems the natural meaning. But Paul's conversion would then have to be dated 26 or 27 and this is plainly impossible. We mtist therefore adopt the suggestion of other scholars2 and suppose that the fourteen years begins from the event which dominates the whole story, i.e. the conversion; we should then place this towards the end of 29 about eighteen months after the death of Jesus.3 1

e.g. Harnack, G.a.L. II. i, p. 237; 'Chronologische Berechn.', S.B.A., 1912, p. 676, n. i; Zahn, Einleitung in das Neue Testament2, Leipzig, 1900, II., p. 630. z Ramsay, The pauline chronology, in Pauline and other studies in early Christian history, London, 1906; Schwartz, *Zur Chronologic', N.G., 1909, p. 274. 3 Concerning the chronological relationship between the death of Jesus and Paul's conversion see V. dej., pp. 166 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 228 ff.

26

PART ONE

The Creation of a New Object of Religious Devotion

CHAPTER I

The Birth of the Belief in the Resurrection of Jesus1 THE creative source of Christianity was the faith in the risen and glorified Jesus. How did this faith arise? How did there come into being a consciousness of a new object of religious devotion, i.e. Jesus, who had triumphed over death and had become the Christ on the right hand of God? The death of Jesus on the cross seemed to make definite shipwreck of all the expectations which he had planted in the hearts of his disciples. Soon, however, these hopes were destined to be recreated, enriched with greater assurance than ever before, and founded on the certitude that the master had won a definite victory over death. The church expressed and defended this faith in a cycle of stories which stretch from the death of Jesus to his ascension. The relationship between the faith and the stories is not quite so simple as has been traditionally thought. The stories not only provide the foundation for the faith; they express it and at the same time defend it. The facts are not unimportant. But even if they could be stated and defined with greater accuracy than is possible, they would not in themselves explain the creation of the faith. If nothing had happened except that the disciples had been the victims of an illusion and had persuaded themselves that their master had returned to life, the appearance of a new religion founded on faith in the resurrection would be capable of explanation. If some document were discovered and established beyond all possibility of dispute that the body of Jesus slowly decomposed in the grave where it had been laid, Christianity with all the gifts of spiritual life which it has given to mankind would not be destroyed. On the other hand, if it were possible to prove that 1 1 have devoted a special work to this question (Lafoi d la r£s.t Paris, 1933). I shall give here in summary form only the conclusions at which I arrived, referring to this previous work of mine for their justification and for a discussion of questions of detail. 29

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

on the morning of the third day the body of Jesus was no longer in the tomb and every possibility of fraud had been excluded, it would not follow that those who were forced to admit this fact would on that account become Christians. A fact means nothing without some interpretation put upon it. The purpose of studying the stories of the resurrection must be to extract the factual elements on which the faith depended, to outline the character of this faith, and to describe the psychological process which created it. When Jesus had to allow the possibility of his death to intrude upon his visions of the future, he did not think of it as a check to his work but considered that God would cause him to return on the clouds of heaven as the glorious Messiah. He did not foresee a renewal and continuation of his work on the level of this world's economy but its extension in the realised kingdom of God. I.—THE BURIAL OF JESUS

Two traditions concerning the burial of Jesus must be distinguished. One refers to what can be called the ritual burial. It would have taken place not to perform a last act of respect to the crucified but solely to avoid transgressing the commandment of Deuteronomy (xxi. 23) which forbids one allowing the sun to rest on the corpse of a criminal.1 Those who, according to this tradition, buried Jesus were only concerned that his body should not remain exposed and so had no other reason for marking with accuracy the place where they laid it. The other tradition refers to what may be called the honourable burial. It was done in an honourable way in a tomb which could be found again. This tradition alone is portrayed in the stories but there survive distinct traces of the other tradition. In the gospel of Peter (3-5) Herod declares that, if Joseph of Arimathea had not asked for the body of Jesus, the Jews would have buried him to prevent the violation of the precepts of Deuteronomy. The incident of the crucifragium in the Fourth Gospel (xix. 31-37) has the same significance. The Jews obtain permission from Pilate to break the 1 Josephus (G.j. iv. 5, 5) attests that no one failed to take away the bodies of criminals before sunset. Normally the bodies of crucified persons remained exposed, but the Romans had no difficulty in making a concession on this point to Jewish scruples, since, unless it was the body of a slave, it was customary to give it back to the next of kin. The Jews were accustomed to lay these bodies in a special tomb; they could not be placed in the tombs of their fathers even if only bones survived (Sank. 5 f.; cf. Strack-Billerbeck, I, p. 1049).

30

BELIEF IN THE RESURRECTION

legs of the crucified to hasten their death because they wanted to be able to bury the bodies of the criminals before sunset. These two extracts only prove that the Jews would have buried the body of Jesus, even if no one had undertaken to do it himself. We have, however, more direct evidence of a ritual burial in the book of Acts which makes Paul say 'For they that dwell at Jerusalem and their rulers . . . desired Pilate that he should be slain and when they had fulfilled all that was written of him they took him down from the tree and laid him in a sepulchre' (xiii. 27-29). The tradition referring to the ritual burial must have been very much alive to have left traces in a book by a writer, who in his gospel had related the burial of Jesus by Joseph of Arimathea. The theme of an honourable burial is found in the canonical gospels and in the gospel of Peter1 but with significant variations. First of all there are variations concerning the personality of the man who took charge of the burial. Joseph of Arimathea is named in all the texts but only Mark and Luke say that he was a member of the Sanhedrin. Luke gives a further detail, it is true, by saying that he was not associated with the designs and acts of his colleagues. They both say that he 'was waiting for the kingdom of God', which means that he was a religious Jew. Matthew calls him a disciple and John2 reconciles the two traditions by saying that he was a disciple of Jesus but a secret one, because he feared the Jews.3 Concerning the tomb there are also variations.4 Matthew, Luke, and John give the detail that it had never been used before, which Mark seems to ignore. John says that it was 'in a garden in the place where Jesus was crucified'.5 Peter's gospel has left a trace 1 Mark xv. 42-46; Matt, xxvii. 57-60; Luke xxiii. 50-54; John xix. 38-42; Ev. Pi. 3-5, 23-24. 8 The traditions followed by the Synoptics is by John combined with another tradition which makes Nicodemus share the lead with Joseph. 8 The gospel of Peter is vague on this point. It calls Joseph 'the friend of Pilate and the Lord*. 4 They do not agree about the type of tomb. All the stories assume it to be one of which several examples have been found in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem. This type of tomb is made up of one or more funeral chambers hollowed out in a wall of rock and approached by a fairly low corridor. In front of the entrance was carved a groove along which, presumably with the help of levers, a stone disc was rolled to block up the entrance. Concerning this type of tomb see Vincent et Abel, Jerusalem, Recherches de topographic et cThistoire, Paris, 1912 ff., II, p. 96. (I am confining myself to this reference as it would be fastidious and futile to enumerate all the works in which this type of tomb is described with illustrations attached.) 6 The phrase refers to the passover ritual which prescribed that the paschal lamb must be eaten in the place where it was prepared.

31

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

of this when it speaks of the sepulchre being called 'garden of Joseph' (24). Mark says that Joseph bought a shroud and wrapped the body of Jesus in it before putting it in the tomb. Neither Matthew nor Luke mention the purchase of the shroud but Matthew gives the information that it was new. In John things happen less simply. Nicodemus brings a hundred pounds of a mixture of myrrh and aloes with which he buries the body of Jesus wrapping it up with bandages. None of the stories give any indication that the burial of Jesus might have been incomplete and only provisional. The story of the anointing at Bethany whether in the form in which we find it in Mark (xiv. 3-9) and Matthew (xxvi. 6-13) or as we find it in John (xii. 1-8) has some connection with those traditions about the burial which tell of the intervention of a woman. It is difficult to find in them any element of solid evidence as the anointing of corpses was apparently not a Palestinian custom. Although there is nothing in the story of the burial itself to suggest the idea that the burial was only provisional,1 Mark (xvi. i) and Luke (xxiii. 56; xxiv. i) say that the women came to the sepulchre on the morning of the third day in order to anoint the body with spices which they had brought.2 The two traditions about the burial cannot be independent. One is the transformation of the other. It is impossible to understand how the tradition of an honourable burial would have become nothing more than a story of a ritual burial without any certain information concerning the position of the tomb. But an evolution of the traditions in the reverse direction is natural, guaranteeing the identity of the tomb and eliminating the harsh suggestion that the body of Jesus was completely deserted by his own friends. At first it is timidly suggested that Jesus was buried by friends through the intervention of someone who was otherwise unknown in the gospel story and in the early church. Only gradually, as the tradition develops, this person comes to be thought of as a disciple. In these circumstances it cannot be doubted that the tradition concerning merely a ritual burial must be regarded as the earlier. From its transformation came the idea of an honourable burial. The earlier tradition in default of all positive evidence sprung from the fact that the narrators 1 Bousset, Kyrios Christos2, Goettingen, 1921, p. 64; Schwartz, 'Osterbetrachtungen', Z.N.T.W., 1906, VII, p. 30. * Matthew does not say the same thing, but that is because his story of the guard put at the tomb prevented this detail from being put in.

32

BELIEF IN THE RESURRECTION

presumed that the Jews treated the body of Jesus in exactly the same way as they usually treated the bodies of criminals. In addition to this there is no particular reason to doubt that this is what happened. 2.—THE THIRD DAY AND THE EMPTY TOMB

The earliest statements of the faith, that of i Corinthians xv. 4, speaks of Christ being risen on the third day. If we have here an early element of the tradition, it does not follow that it is a primitive element. The expression 'the third day* is found three times in Matthew (xvi. 21; xvii. 23; xx. 19) and twice in Luke (ix. 22; xviii.33) in the triple declaration concerning the sufferings, death, and resurrection of the Son of Man, but Mark (viii. 31; ix. 31; x. 34) three times has the phrase 'After three days'; Matthew is also aware of this expression as he alludes to it in xxvii. 63, to recall the prophecy of the resurrection. It has been maintained that the two expressions 'the third day' and 'after three days' are equivalent to each other. Actually they are sometimes in the Septuagint but not always as, e.g. in Hosea vi. 2 where 'the third day' is the equivalent of 'after two days' and not 'after three'.1 Matthew also has this logion, 'For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the whale's belly; so shall the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth' (xii. 41). No interpretation however subtle can harmonise this statement with the idea that Jesus was buried on Friday night and rose again on Sunday morning. The tradition therefore originally was not as precise as it had already become in i Corinthians xv. 4. It is possible that the two phrases 'the third day' and 'after three days' were at first used without any distinction between them to mean 'after a short interval'. The discovery of the empty tomb in all the stories takes place on the morning of the third day and according to Matthew, Luke, and John the first appearance of the risen Christ took place on the same day but this differs from the tradition followed by Mark and the gospel of Peter which state that the first appearance took place in Galilee.2 The necessity of reconciling the appearances with the empty tomb is one of the reasons why the appearances have been moved from Galilee. The story of the discovery of the empty tomb is the 1

e.g. Gen. xlii. 17-18; Esther iv. 15 ff. The necessity of reconciling the appearances with the empty tomb is one of the reasons why the appearances have been moved from Galilee to Judaea. 2

3

33

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

same in form with only insignificant variations in the three synoptic gospels (Mark xvi. 1-8; Matt, xxviii. i-io; Luke xxiv. i-n). On the third day at dawn the women met at the sepulchre with spices which they had prepared.1 They find the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. An angel2 tells them that the body of Jesus is not there, that he is risen and has gone before them into Galilee. They must tell Peter and the other disciples to go there. 'There', he adds, 'you will see him'.3 In Mark the women say nothing to the disciples because they are afraid.4 In Matthew and Luke they deliver the message which had been entrusted to them. Matthew does not say how it is received. Luke says that the disciples do not believe them and consider that they are telling idle tales.5 In John's gospel the story of the discovery of the empty tomb is closely associated with two others, (i) the coming of Peter and the nameless disciple to the sepulchre, and (2) the appearance to Mary Magdalen (xx. 1-18). We shall return to these later.6 The gospel of Peter has a story in a more developed form. It gives the impression of being a literary amplification which has been quite cleverly constructed from the synoptic story and is completed by the incident of the guard at the sepulchre which it gives with more detail than is to be found in Matthew and contains one surprising element. The way in which the story of the guard at the sepulchre is told makes it difficult to understand how the women were able to enter the tomb. But the story contains one very important original feature. This is the story: 'Mary Magdalen, a disciple of the Lord, because she was frightened of the Jews, who were inflamed with anger, was unable to perform at the tomb of the Lord what women are accustomed to do to the dead whom they have loved. At dawn 1 The incident of placing a guard at the sepulchre compelled Matthew to make the desire to see the tomb the only motive for the women's visit. Concerning the other particulars of his story see further on p. 39. 2 Luke mentions two angels. 3 In spite of this announcement Jesus appeared in Galilee to the disciples only and not to the women. In Luke's story where the appearances are placed in Judaea, mention is made of what he said when he was yet in Galilee. 4 Concerning the way in which the ending of Mark can be explained see Lafoi d la r£s.t pp. 176 ff. and my more recent study 'Deux notes d'exe'gese: II. R&urrection et apostolat', R.h.r., 1941, CXXIII, pp. 43-56. 5 Quite a large number of manuscripts ( A.B.W. vg. sysln" cur- etc.) it is true, add (what is verse 12 of the Received Text): 'Peter arose and ran unto the sepulchre and stooping down he beheld the linen clothes laid by themselves and departed wondering in himself at that which was come to pass'. These words are missing in D and in the early Latin version. They contradict verse n and arise from a harmonisation with John xx. 3-10. ' See pp. 53 ff.

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BELIEF IN THE RESURRECTION

on the morning of the Lord's day she took her friends with her and came to the sepulchre where the Lord was laid. They were frightened that the Jews would see them. They said to themselves, "If only at least we had been able to weep and lament on the day when he was crucified. Now we would like to do it at hjs tomb. Who will roll away the stone put at the entrance to the tomb so that we can go in, sit down beside his body, and do what ought to be done? (Now the stone was big.) We are frightened of being seen. If we cannot go in, we will put what we have brought in front of the entrance in memory of him. We will weep and lament until we return home." When they arrived they found the sepulchre open. They went near, bent down and saw a handsome young man dressed in a dazzling dress who said to them, "Why have you come? Who are you looking for? Is it not the crucified? He is risen and he is gone away. If you do not believe, bend down and see the place where he was. He is no more. He is risen; he is gone to the place whence he came." Then the frightened women fled' (50-57). While this story is on many points an amplified version of what is found in the canonical stories, there is, however, one particular feature which it is difficult to think can be the invention of the compiler. This is the idea that Jesus returned from the tomb straight to the place whence he came, i.e. to heaven. While all the other stories of the discovery of the empty tomb in our possession contain an announcement of an appearance1 the story in the gospel of Peter does not contain one and even seems to exclude any idea of one by affirming the return of Jesus to heaven. It may well be that there is here a feature originating from an archaic story which is not found in the synoptics. Some connection exists between the idea that Jesus rose on the morning of the first day of the week and the observance of the Christian Sunday with which the communities founded by Paul seem to have been already acquainted (i Cor. xvi. 2; Acts xx. 7) and for the existence of which at the end of the first century and in the course of the second there is clear evidence.2 Apparently the most convincing reason why the resurrection was judged to be on the third day must be found in a belief which was widely prevalent in different quarters of the world that the soul of a dead man remained near the body which it had animated until the morning of the third day 1

Or rather (Matt., John) are associated with a story of an appearance. * Ape. i, 10; Didache xiv. i; Ignatius, Magn. ix. i; Barnabas xv. 9; Justin Apol. /, 67, 3, 8. 35

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

when it left it altogether.1 In this way the body of Jesus would be thought of as coming to life again at the very moment when normally death definitely supervened. In the gospel stories as well as in the gospel of Peter the discovery of the empty tomb with a comment from one or several angels is offered as sufficient proof of the resurrection which is resisted by the disciples, at any rate when they first learn of it. They are convinced only by the appearances. This may well be the result of a literary elaboration which correlated together what were originally two expressions of belief in the resurrection and subsequently became two independent ways of justifying it. Only in Matthew's gospel (xxvii. 62-66), i.e. half a century after the birth of the faith in the resurrection, are there to be found any traces of a dispute between Jews and Christians about the empty tomb as a matter of empirical evidence. Yet from the very moment when it was first made, the affirmation of the resurrection of Jesus was in dispute. If it originated from the discovery of the empty tomb, how are we to explain why no enquiry was made to contradict the evidence? Certainly no enquiry was made, because if it had been and had proved that the body of Jesus was in the tomb in a recognisable form, how could Christians have maintained their claim that the tomb was empty? At the very least the form in which the belief in the resurrection was expressed would have had to be adapted to the established facts. If no one thought of making an enquiry about the empty tomb, it can only have been because discussion was raised at such time and place as made enquiry impossible. Either those who affirmed that the tomb was empty lived so far away from Jerusalem or such a long time after the burial of Jesus that their statement could not be verified or else no verification was ever possible because the tomb of Jesus could not be identified. This last seems to be the hypothesis which must be retained. At first the affirmation that the tomb was empty was made a priori. It was a corollary deduced from the affirmation that Christ was alive in heaven. Once we assume what was the Semitic belief about man, it follows that if Jesus was alive in heaven, his body could not possibly have been left to decompose in the tomb. There was then no necessity to go and look in the tomb in order to declare that it was no longer there. The affirmation of the empty tomb then took on concrete form, the fauction fdbulatrice came into play; it was imagined and then told how women came 1

In my book Lafoi a la rts., pp. 167 ff. will be found a list of various texts providing evidence for this.

36

BELIEF IN THE RESURRECTION

to the sepulchre on the morning of the third day and found it open and empty.1 This change became possible as soon as ritual burial became burial made out of respect allowing the position of the tomb to be identified and providing a motive for the visit of the women. A link had to be forged between the stories of the burial of Jesus and the discovery of the empty tomb. The evangelists were forced to create one. This they did with discretion but also with a rather clumsy repetition which shows that the conflation to which they resort is artificial in character. With discretion they omit any reference to the story of the burial itself in order to leave a part for the women who two days later would find the tomb empty.2 They confined themselves to saying that the women kept at a distance and looked on. With insistence Mark (xv. 47; xvi. i) and Matthew (xxvii. 61; xxviii. i)3 twice name the women as witnesses who identified the tomb and agreed that it was empty. With a certain clumsiness they fail to create a real connection between the story of the burial and that of the discovery of the empty tomb. 3.—THE R E S U R R E C T I O N

To leave no doubt that the resurrection was an assured fact, primitive Christianity said that the tomb of Jesus was found empty and that his disciples were shown that it was so. But no attempt was made to describe the fact of the resurrection itself by picturing Jesus coming out of the tomb. There was the feeling that here was a sacred mystery which any attempt at direct description could only profane. Therefore, it was thought, all effort must be confined to ascertaining and establishing its consequences. On this account we have to go further afield to find stories of Jesus leaving the tomb. We find no reason for supposing that they depend on the earliest traditions. They are simply figments of the imagination. There was a story of this kind in the gospel of the Hebrews but the fragment preserved by St. Jerome4 mentions only the shroud which Jesus gives back to the servant of the high-priest 1

It is futile to discuss the attempts which have been made to give a natural explanation of the empty tomb (apparent death or the removal of the body). See on this, Lafoi a la res., pp. 203-210. 2 Perhaps, however, there can be found some trace of a tradition which would have effected this in the story of the anointing. See Lafoi a la r£s.t pp. 127 f. 8 In addition with divergences between the two notes of Mark. 4 Jerome, De viris inl. 2.

37

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

as he leaves the tomb. This reference is made in such terms as preclude any attempt being made to reconstruct what went before. The gospel of Peter (35-49) contains elements which go beyond what is told in the earlier narratives. But the actual resurrection is not really related. The core of the story is hardly given space at all. Only what happened immediately before and immediately after is reported. It tells us that, immediately before, two angels entered the tomb and, immediately after, they went out with the Jesus whom they held. During the night previous to the Lord's day there is a great noise; the heavens open; two angels come down and go towards the tomb. The stone rolls away of its own accord and they enter. The soldiers see this and go to wake up the centurion and the Jewish authorities. The second part of the story which is the more important yields more evidence than the first. Three men come out of the tomb. Two of them carry the other one while the cross comes behind them. The heads of the two bearers touch the sky while that of the one carried reaches above it. The angels, the story says, have come to find Christ and they have to carry him because before he died his 'power* had left him and he would only find it again in heaven.1 A voice from heaven asks, 'Have you preached to the dead?' and the cross replies, 'Yes'. While the witnesses of this scene are plunged in thought, the heavens open again and another angel comes down and enters the tomb.2 In this story there is not found the idea so strongly insisted upon by the gospel stories of the appearances, that he who is risen is recognised as the man whom the disciples have known in the days of his flesh. The identity of Jesus is established in other ways, i.e. by the evidence of angels and the man on the cross. Here we are in the presence of a story which is the product of theological elaboration and must be classed as myth.3 Popular tradition tells the public to which it is addressed what it wants to know. The story of the resurrection of 1 There is an element here which is not exactly docetism but comes from a somewhat peculiar christology which tends to docetism. 2 This angel appears to have been introduced to prepare the way for the visit of Mary Magdalene and her companions who will find him seated in the tomb. 8 I mention just as a reminder the glossia to be found in a manuscript of the early Latin version (k, codex Bobbiensis of the fourth or fifth century) in Mark xvi. 4, where it says, 'The women ask who will roll away the stone for them', it reads in this manuscript 'As soon as darkness came over the whole earth during the day about the third hour, angels came down from heaven and, coming out of the tomb (the manuscript has surgent: all the editors correct it to surgentes) they ascend up to the splendour of the living God: doubtless it is the Christ whose glory fills the sky with light and so the day ends.'

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Lazarus (John xi. 39-44) shows that the public were not unable to imagine Jesus leaving the tomb. Yet there was no story of this although it would have been of great value both as propaganda and as apologetic. People had the feeling that they were here in the presence of a very sacred mystery which would only be profaned by any claim to give any very accurate description of it. There is, however, in Matthew's gospel a story with a thread which might have been expected to end with a description of the resurrection. The tomb is guarded; when the women appear on the scene, there is a great earthquake, an angel comes down from heaven, rolls away the stone and sits on top of it (xxviii. 1-3). But this is not done to allow Jesus to leave the tomb but to enable the women to prove that the tomb is empty. While the soldiers guarding the tomb are so struck with fear that they become like dead men (xxviii. 4) the women are not affected in this way, at any rate not to the same degree, as the angel is able to speak to them after re-assuring them (xxviii. 5). Matthew does not tell of anything happening between the angel coming down and speaking to the women because at that moment nothing did happen beyond the tomb being opened which made it possible to prove that the body of Jesus was no longer there. This is exactly the same point of view which is expressed in Mark's gospel where the one fact proved is that the body has gone out of the tomb. It has not come out like a living person who had been shut up. It has gone direct to heaven.1 At some point of time the disappearance of the body of Jesus was not in itself a sufficient proof of the resurrection, a direct manifestation of Jesus restored to life established as a fact was called for and cited in support. This was all the more natural when in actual fact such manifestations did constitute the psychological origins of the faith in the resurrection. The idea of direct translation to heaven which Jewish tradition asserted to have happened to certain men such as Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, did not imply that of resurrection in the sense of the reanimation of a corpse which had been laid in a tomb, since these men had neither corpse nor tomb. In all the forms of early Christian thought which we can discern, we find that the religious significance belonging to the resurrection does not lie in the fact that the body of Jesus came to life again on 1 Bickermann 'Das leere Grab', Z.N.T.W., 1924, XXIII, pp. 281-292, shows that the idea of a body laid in a tomb being taken up into heaven i s to be found in several Christian legends and had its origin in Hellenism.

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earth for a short time, but that it was taken to live in heaven. What gives salvation is Christ's glorification, not his resurrection understood in the sense of the reanimation of his body. If this reanimation became an object of faith, it was because it was regarded as the symbol, proof, and verification of the glorification of Christ.1 This is what constitutes for primitive faith the difference between the resurrection of Jesus and those of others which are narrated in the gospels and elsewhere but which no one thought of calling in question,2 e.g. that of Jairus' daughter (Mark v. 42-43 and parallel passages), the young man of Nain (Luke vii. 11-17), or Lazarus (John xi. 1-44). These resurrections were not thought of as definite victories gained over death. Those who were restored seem to be pictured as having died prematurely and remained mortal.3 Jesus on the contrary definitely conquered death. 'Christ having risen from the dead dieth no more', writes Paul, 'death hath no more dominion over him' (Rom. vi. 9). The absence of a story of Jesus coming out of the tomb is not due to accident or design, but to the fact that the earliest conception of the resurrection did not admit of such a happening. The empty tomb as the objective evidence that Jesus did not remain a prisoner to death is not the only form in which the resurrection was expressed, perhaps not even the earliest. After narrating that the veil of the temple was rent in twain, when Jesus expired, Matthew says, 'The earth did quake, and the rocks rent, and the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept, arose, and came out of the graves after the resurrection4 and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many' (Matt, xxvii. 50-53). The saints certainly did not rise again because an earthquake opened their graves. It was quite a different kind of action with a theological significance. Matthew has preserved here a fragment of a very early tradition which he has scarcely tried to harmonise with 1 A trace of the idea that Christ went direct to heaven survives also in a variant of the Syriac version of Sinai which in Matt, xxvii. 50 in place of 'yielded up the ghost* has 'and his spirit rose up', i.e. 'he went up to heaven*. * Fr. de Grandmaison (Jesus Christy sa personne, son message, ses preuves, Paris, 1922, II, pp. 464-9) has collected some Greek stories of resurrections, StrackBillerbeck (I, p. 560; II, p. 545) some Jewish stories. Both show that the idea of resurrection would not have appeared an impossibility in the first century. 8 A passage from Quadratus, the apologist, preserved by Eusebius (H.e. IV. 3) says that some of the dead persons whom Jesus restored to life—he seemed to think that there were more of them that the gospel stories tell of—lived up to Hadrian's time but died afterwards. 4 Certainly after the resurrection of Jesus. Matthew is here adding to his source.

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his story. We can understand what this happening means and how it was thought possible1 if we bear in mind that the resurrection of Jesus forms the first fruits of the general resurrection. We can see the resurrection of the saints to be both a result of the victory gained by Jesus over death, not on the morning of the third day but at the very moment when he expired and an anticipation of the general resurrection. Such an idea could well ignore any thought of the third day and the empty tomb. An idea analogous to it is expressed in the saying of Jesus to the repentant thief, 'Today thou shalt be with me in paradise' (Luke xxiii. 43). Here also the victory of Jesus takes the form of a transition to heaven, it is not said how the victory will be shown on earth.2 4.—THE APPEARANCES

Whatever theological value primitive Christianity attributed to the empty tomb, it is certain that the faith in the resurrection emerged from the appearances. The earliest text to speak of the appearances of the risen Christ is i Corinthians xv. 3-11. It does not give an account of them but merely alludes to them as facts already known to the reader.3 Paul only refers to them as evidence in favour of his argument for the resurrection which had been denied by certain Corinthians.4 Those who have experienced appearances of the risen Christ are mentioned in the following order: Cephas,5 the Twelve,6 more than five hundred brethren, James,7 all the apostles and last of all, Paul 1

1 Cor. xv. 20-3; Rom. viii. 29; Col. i. 18; Rev. i. 5. Bousset, Kur. Chr.2, p. 63. 8 Certain writers (Schmiedel, 'Resurrection und Ascension narratives', E.B. IV, col. 4058; Bousset, Kyrios Christos2, Gottingen, 1921, p. 65) believe it possible to infer from the summary character of Paul's reference that at the time when he was writing no detailed stories of appearances were yet in existence. The remark appended to the reference to the appearance to more than five hundred brethren, 'of whom the greater part survive to this day* seems to me to exclude this possibility as it means that anyone could question them, if he wanted. What Paul says of the appearance of Christ to him seems also to exclude this. 4 This denial did not in their estimation, as Paul understood, mean denial of any life beyond the grave but a spiritualist conception which only expected the 5 survival of the soul. i.e. almost certainly Peter. * Some texts (D.F.G. 464 lat., etc.) thinking of Judas have 'the Eleven* in place, of 'the Twelve'. 7 This certainly means James, the brother of the Lord (cf. Gal. i. 19; ii. i ff.). Nevertheless, Kattenbusch ('Die Vorzugstellung des Petrus und der Charakter der Urgemeinde', Festg. f. K. Midler, Tubingen, p. 329, n. i) puts forward the hypothesis that it can mean the apostle James whose martyrdom is related in Acts xii 2. 2

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himself 'as one born out of due time'.1 This text while its authenticity cannot be questioned by any valid argument is not altogether homogeneous. First of all we can see in it a formula which Paul says he had received and is an expression of the common faith of the whole church. It is the earliest expression of faith. Its rhythmic form makes it easily recognisable. 'Christ died for our sin, according to the Scriptures. And he was buried He rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures. And he was seen by Cephas, then by the Twelve.'2 To this Paul adds the appearance to more than five hundred brethren with the remark that the majority of them are still alive. This was certainly mentioned with the purpose of hinting that it was possible for anyone to meet them and question them. Because of the commentary accompanying it, this mention of the appearance to more than five hundred cannot have belonged to the kerygmatic formula. Next comes a phrase which is strikingly parallel to the second part of the kerygmatic formula: 'He was seen by James, then by all the apostles.' It is a formula parallel to that which circulated among those who claimed to follow Peter and appears to have been modelled on it by James' partisans. In conclusion, Paul speaks of the appearance which he himself experienced and describes it in terms which cannot have belonged to a kerygmatic formula. In this way Paul completes and confirms the kerygmatic formula by mentioning other appearances of which he was aware and also his own, the last of all.3 Kattenbusch thinks that he would have been held to have experienced by himself an appearance of Christ because respect was due to him as the first apostle to be a martyr. 1 The term 'abortion* by which for want of a better word ftcrputfia is translated is given to the foetus which has been torn away by violence done to the womb of a woman and is dead (cf. Num. xii. 12, Septuagint) and papyrus texts quoted by Moulton and Milligan. Vocabulary, art eirrpco/ia. Without doubt it was a nickname given to the apostle on account of his wan and mean appearance, it he adopted to signify that the beginning of his Christian life was a miracle from God. See A. Fridrichsen, Taulus abortivus. Zu I Kor. XV. 8', Symbolae philologicae O. A. Dainelson octogennario dictatae, Uppsala, 1932, pp. 78-85. 2 It is hardly necessary to point out the direct connection between this formula and the declaration of the disciples in Luke xxiv. 34: 'The Lord is risen indeed and has appeared unto Simon*. 8 This signifies that Paul did not know of any appearances later than his own, not that later ones were impossible. Nothing in Pauline christology suggests or authorises the idea that a limitation was placed upon the period when appearances might take place.

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A precise and satisfying connection between the appearances recorded by Paul and those known to us from other sources cannot be established. Luke's gospel contains an allusion to a tradition which recorded that Peter experienced the first appearance but does not recount it.1 Matthew, Luke, and John, and the book of the Acts, know of appearances to the Twelve but it is just as impossible to harmonise their stories as to discover if Paul is alluding to one of them either in verse 5 or verse 7. The appearance to more than five hundred brethren remains the most obscure in Paul's catalogue. It is surprising that tradition preserved no direct recollection of such an important fact.2 St. Jerome3 recounts the story of an appearance to James as given in the gospel to the Hebrews. After handing his shroud to the servant of the high-priest the Lord goes to the house of James, his brother. James, after drinking the Lord's chalice, swore not to eat before he saw Jesus risen from the dead. On his arrival at James' house the Lord had a table and bread brought to him. He broke the bread and gave it to James, saying, 'My brother, eat your bread, since the Son of Man is risen from the dead'. Even if to suppose that James was present at the last supper did not create difficulties to begin with, it would be impossible to admit a story as historical which against the evidence of all early traditions presumes that there was a single person among the followers of Jesus who waited for his resurrection with conviction. We are in the presence of a story, which originated among those who believed in a Christian caliphate ad majorem Jacobi gloriam, and is founded on the single reference in the epistle to the Corinthians. The last of the appearances mentioned by Paul is his own; it took place in the autumn of 29, about eighteen months after the death of Jesus.4 Paul makes no reference to a detailed story but the allusions 1

The special message for Peter with which the women are charged in Mark xvi. 7 suggests perhaps that Mark was acquainted with the same tradition. As I shall suggest further on, it is at first somewhat surprising that the appearance to Peter is not recounted but it is explained by the fact that in the interests of apologetic collective appearances are preferred. In some sense it may be said the Tu es Petrus makes up for this diminution in Peter's part. 2 Von Dobschutz (Ostern und Pfingsten, Leipzig, 1903) tried to show that a remembrance of this large collective appearance has been transposed and preserved in the story of Pentecost. It does not^seem as if this opinion can be retained although it secured the adhesion of Harnack among others ('Die Verklarungsge-i schichte Jesu, der Bericht des Paulus und die beiden Christus visionen des Petrus', S.B.A., 1922, p. 65) and Lietzmann (Histoire de VEglise ancienne, French trans. 8 A. Jundt, Paris, 1936 ff., I. p. 60). Jerome, De viris inl. 2. 4 See pp. 25 f. and V. dejf.t pp. 166 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 229 ff. 43

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in the epistles (i Cor. ix. i; xv. 8; Gal. i. 16; Phil. iii. 7-8) show that the circumstances of this appearance and of the conversion which resulted from it were known in the churches. The place which Paul gave to it in his preaching explains why some of his enemies accused him of preaching himself (2 Cor. iv. 5). The story in Acts which by a device in compilation is repeated three times (ix. 1-19; xxii. 1-16; xxvi. 12-iS)1 only provides hints about some exterior circumstances. It places the event on the road to Damascus whither Paul is on his way to persecute the church. He is suddenly surrounded by a great light, falls to the ground and hears the voice of the Lord asking him why he is persecuting him and giving him orders to go to Damascus where he will learn what he must do. In Damascus he is baptised by Ananias who lays hands upon him and he receives the Holy Spirit. The incident of Ananias which is missing in chapter xxvi is somewhat suspect in the form in which we have it, as it is completely contradicted by Paul's categorical affirmation in the epistle to the Galatians that his conversion owes nothing to any man.2 The author of the Acts sees in the vision on the road to Damascus something quite different from the appearances of the risen Christ mentioned in chapter i. He speaks of a voice and a light, he does not say that Paul saw Jesus risen. He flagrantly contradicts the evidence of the apostle (i Cor. ix. n; xv. 8). It is the result of the theory held by the compiler of Acts that all the appearances were confined to a period of forty days3 and were reserved for the apostles alone who had been chosen by Jesus (i. 3; x. 41; xiii. 31). There are clear indications to show that in the source from which the story was taken it had quite a different character. In ix. 5 (cf. xxii. 8; xxvi. 15) Paul, after hearing the voice says, 'Who art thou, Lord?'. It is said that his companions saw no one (/^ScW ix. 7). Ananias says to him, 'The Lord Jesus whom you saw on the road* (ix. 17). A little further on, Barnabas, introducing Paul to the Twelve, tells them how, 'on the road he saw the Lord and spoke to him' 1 Concerning the use of repetition in ancient literature as a means of emphasising the importance of a story, see Von Dobschutz, 'Die Berichte uber die Bekehrung des Paulus', Z.N.T.W., 1930, XXIX, pp. 144-7. Contrary to the opinion of some critics the latest of whom is E. Hirsch ('Die drei Berichte der Apostelgeschichte uber die Bekehrung des Paulus', Z.N.T.W., 1929, XXVIII, PP- SOS-12) there are not three stories but three slightly divergent forms of the same story. 2 Nevertheless the incident must not have been purely and simply an invention as Paul was certainly baptised (Rom. vi. 3; i Cor. xii. 13) and that could only have happened at the beginning of his life as a Christian. * Concerning this theory see further on pp. 60 ff.

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(ix. ay). These expressions show that, even if the compiler did not intend to tell of an appearance, the source followed by him recounted one. Although it is impossible to attempt to reconstruct this source, it can be seen that it differs from other stories of appearances by giving to Christ the attributes of a celestial being and by stating that those who accompanied Paul were aware that something was happening but did not share the vision. By saying that Christ was seen by him, last of all, Paul distinguishes the appearance of Christ to him from Visions and revelations of the Lord' (2 Cor. xii. i). In some of these visions, e.g. that at Troas (Acts xvi. 9-10) Paul did not see the Christ but only received instructions from him, yet in others he saw the Lord himself. Such plainly is the case of his vision in the Temple at Jerusalem when he went there after his conversion and the Lord appeared to him and ordered him to go and preach the gospel to the Gentiles (Acts xxii. i?-2i).2 Paul is not the only one who made a distinction between ecstatic visions and appearances of Christ. It is never said that Christ appeared to Stephen or to the seer of the Apocalypse. Yet the former, when he was dying, saw 'the glory of God and Jesus sitting on the right hand of God* (Acts vii. 55-56). The latter beheld Christ in heaven (Rev. i. 9-20). One difference between appearances of Christ and visions is what may be called functional; appearances of Christ created a faith in the resurrection, while ecstatic visions, even though they enriched those who received them, did not fundamentally modify their religious attitude. Another difference appears to be that in the appearances of Christ he was seen on the earth while in the ecstatic vision he was seen in heaven. The most important difference, however, seems to be this; those who enjoyed ecstatic visions felt at the time when they experienced them that they were in an abnormal subjective state of mind, while the percipients of 1 In the same way in chapter xxii. Ananias says to Paul, 'The God of our fathers hath chosen thee . . . that thou shouldst see that Just One and shouldest hear the voice of his mouth. For thou shalt be his witness unto all men of what thou hast seen and heard (xxii. 14, 15). In chapter xxvi the voice from heaven says to Paul, 'I am Jesus whom thou persecutest, to make thee a minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen and of those things in which I will appear unto thee' (xxvi. 15). 2 If there was no evidence apart from that in Acts it would be somewhat open to suspicion. But in 2 Cor. xii. 2-4 Paul speaks of a particularly important vision which he had fourteen years later, i.e. about 43-44. This may well be the vision mentioned in Acts xxii. 17-21, although in Acts the vision seems to take place on Paul's first visit to Jerusalem.

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appearances seem to have thought that anyone else who had been in the same place at the same time would have also seen Christ. But one point seems to be of the greatest importance; those to whom Christ appeared regarded the phenomenon as something new and were surprised and troubled by it. On the other hand, those who enjoyed the ecstatic visions which in some cases, notably Paul's, followed an appearance, regarded them as phenomena which they had expected, waited for, and recognised. In some measure their hopes and expectations brought on the visions. The tradition which survived as it is found expressed in the book of the Acts is, that for a period the length of which is variously described, there was a succession of appearances of Christ, that after this Christ made a final return to heaven and so appearances ceased to be possible. This is not the earliest tradition and it is easy to see how it came about. With the growth of christology it became more and more difficult to think of Christ living the life of glory in heaven and at the same time continually appearing to his disciples on earth. Men's conceptions of the appearances of Christ grew more materialistic because they tended to describe them with greater minuteness, and at the same time details were introduced progressively into the stories to meet the objections raised by those who opposed the idea of the resurrection. When we consider the part played by the faith in the resurrection in Paul's religious life and thought as a result of Christ's appearance to him, we see that most essential to his faith was not the feeling that Jesus had returned to the environment of his life on earth preceding his passion but a belief in his glorification, i.e. in his transition to life in heaven where death has no more dominion over him (Rom. vi. 9). This idea receives little emphasis in the gospel stories, because, as it seems, influenced by the necessities of apologetic, they have undergone a marked materialisation. The first story in Matthew, that of the appearance to the women (xxviii. g-io)1 is discreet but contains one detail—the women fell down before Jesus and held him by the feet—which implies the resurrection to be material. The second story, that of the appearance to the disciples on a mountain in Galilee (xxviii. 16-20) is told with 1

This story comes just after that of the discovery of the empty tomb. Although it seems as if Jesus appeared to the women by the side of the tomb and the story finished with the order being given to them to inform the disciples and tell them to meet in Galilee, yet the incident is only narrated just after verse 8 which says that the women told the disciples what they had seen.

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considerable discretion. No details of the circumstances are given. All that is said is that the Eleven on seeing Jesus worshipped him but some doubted.1 The two elements to be distinguished in this story are (i) an appearance of Christ, (2) a theological doctrine concerning the mission formed by the instructions given to the disciples by Jesus. The story of the appearance is told with remarkable moderation in a somewhat primitive fashion and is quite bereft of any apologetic tendencies. The element of doubt to be met with here is found elsewhere, e.g. in Luke and John, but there it has quite a different character. Its purpose is apologetic. It seems to show that the disciples did not come to believe in the resurrection with ease, that at first they disbelieved and only finally yielded in the face of incontrovertible evidence. But there is nothing resembling this in Matthew. He does not say how the doubts of some were relieved or even if they were relieved at all. The promise of perpetual aid with which Matthew's story ends can only mean spiritual aid and seems to exclude completely any further appearance of Christ. It is impossible to see in what way one or more appearances could be intercalated between the one experienced by the women and the one experienced by the disciples. On this account Matthew's story resists any attempt to harmonise it with the other traditions. The stories of the appearances in Luke are not connected with that of the empty tomb by any link as organic as that found in Matthew. The only allusion in the stories of the appearances to the empty tomb is to be found in the Emmaus story in xxiv. 22-24.2 The first appearance recorded in Luke is that on the road to Emmaus (xxiv. 13-35). On the evening of the third day two disciples are on their way to the village of Emmaus.3 On the way they are talking together of what has just happened, when Jesus meets them without being recognised for 'their eyes were heavy'. They speak to the mysterious stranger of their hopes which are now dashed. Three days have passed. 'It is true', they add, 'that some women of their company made them astonished by telling them that they were at the sepulchre, found it empty and saw angels, who told them that 1

There is no need to discuss the desperate attempts which many interpreters have made to eliminate this doubt on the part of the disciples. See Lafoi d la r&., p. 278, n. 3, pp. 279 f. 2 These verses appear to be an editor's addition to his source. 8 The majority of the manuscripts place Emmaus 60 stadia, i.e. about 6 miles from Jerusalem. Some (N. K. @. min.) say 160 stadia, i.e. about 3! miles. For possible reasons for this variation and proposed identifications see Lafoi d la r£s.t p. 282, n. i.

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their master was risen. Some disciples had confirmed the truth of what the women had reported but had not seen the Lord.1 Jesus then rebukes the two disciples for their incredulity and lack of intelligence and goes on to explain to them the Scriptures which taught that the Messiah must suffer before entering into his glory. On their arrival at Emmaus the disciples persuade their travelling companion to stay with them as the day is far spent. At supper he takes bread, blesses it, and distributes it to them. Then their eyes are opened and they recognise him, but immediately he becomes invisible. The two men then hasten to return to Jerusalem where they find the Eleven and their companions gathered together who tell them, 'The Lord is risen indeed and has appeared to Simon'. They then tell them what has happened to them. This story is a little masterpiece of dramatic narrative; as the story proceeds, the interest grows. It is written in a lively style with animation. It cannot be the work of Luke as he would not have introduced Cleopas, a figure mentioned elsewhere, and he would have linked the story with that of the empty tomb in a neater manner. The conclusion of the incident is hardly satisfactory. The effect to be expected by the arrival of the two travellers is spoilt as the other disciples already know that Jesus is risen. The original ending of the incident has been touched up to make allowance for the tradition which placed the first appearance in Jerusalem and also made Peter a recipient of an appearance. The author of the unauthentic ending of Mark (xvi. 12-13) knew of the incident in its original form where the two disciples tell of their incredulity only in Jerusalem. If this ending and the phrase about the appearance to Simon is suppressed, a satisfactory link is forged between the Emmaus incident and the following one which tells of another appearance. The disciples at first are sceptical and think that they are in the presence of a ghost. How could an appearance be regarded in this way by people who a moment before had just been confirmed by the evidence of the men of Emmaus? If, on the other hand, the story which these people had just heard left them sceptical, then the meaning of the second appearance which triumphs over their doubts is easily explained. In this second story—or rather in the second part of the story (xxiv. 36-43)—Jesus is suddenly found in the midst of the disciples assembled together. They think that they see a ghost. He tries to convince them by showing them his feet and hands, making them 1 This allusion to the empty tomb and a visit of the disciples seems to be an addition to the source.

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touch them. Without explicitly saying so the story presumes that these accumulated proofs finally convince them. A scene of instruction follows that of recognition. It is composed of three closely connected elements. First of all Jesus declares that he has accomplished what Moses and the prophets have written of him and he opens their understanding that they might understand. Next he recalls the prophecy of Scripture on the necessity of his sufferings and death and announces that repentance for remission of sins in his name must be preached to all nations. The commission to do this is given to the disciples by these words, 'Ye are witnesses of these things'. Finally Jesus promises his disciples to send them the Holy Spirit and tells them not to leave Jerusalem before receiving him. This second story emphasises the material nature of the body of the risen Jesus but this is possibly a result of an apologetic elaboration to show that the disciples did not find it easy to believe in the resurrection and to kill the possibility of their having been in the presence of a ghost. The way in which Jesus is suddenly present among them implies quite a different conception of the state of the risen Christ from that resulting from the reanimation of his corpse. It is a delicate problem to say exactly what conception Luke's gospel has of the state of the risen Jesus. The mysterious manner in which Jesus comes up to the disciples on the road, the fact that at first they do not recognise him, the manner in which he becomes invisible after breaking bread, cannot be thought of as ordinary arrivals and departures. This is because the risen Jesus is never depicted as having resumed the life which he shared with his disciples. The absence of trays which would emphasise the material nature of the body of Jesus in the Emmaus incident forbids us to see in it simply an allegory of the mysterious presence of Christ in the eucharist. It must be interpreted as a sign of a relatively 'primitive tradition'. Except for the appearance to Mary Magdalene1 the Fourth Gospel in its earliest form, i.e. before the addition of chapter xxi. contains two descriptions of appearances. The first is simply placed next to the incident of Mary Magdalene. On the evening of the first day of the week, the disciples are reunited and the doors shut for fear of the Jews, when Jesus suddenly appears in the midst of them and greets them. He shows them his hands and his side and they rejoice together. Then he says to them a second time, Teace be with you' and he breathes on them to give them the Holy Spirit and 1

4

See pp. 53 ff.

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bestow on them the power to forgive or retain sins (xx. 19-23). There is no mention of how Jesus left the disciples or of what impression his appearance made on them. The sudden appearance of Jesus and the fact that the doors were shut imply the idea of an immaterial body: the manifestation of the wounds implies the identity of this body with the one which died on the cross. Here is a contradiction which the strangeness of the double greeting increases. The manifestation of the wounds must therefore be considered as an addition for reasons which are plain. The second greeting can then be regarded as a literary device for resuming the thread of the narrative. Thomas, it is said, was not present when Jesus showed himself to the disciples. When he is told of what has passed he remains sceptical and refuses to believe, 'except he should put his fingers into the print of the nails of Jesus' hands and his hand into the scar of the wound in his side' (xx. 24-25). Thomas' absence is not mentioned at the beginning where it is said that the disciples were gathered together but only at the end as a kind of appendix. From this it can be inferred that the detail was added afterwards so that a second story which laid more emphasis on the material nature of the resurrection could follow. And so eight days afterwards Jesus appears again in the same circumstances, this time Thomas being present; he asks Thomas to touch his wounds and says to him 'Be not faithless but believing', and Thomas says to him, 'My Lord and my God'. Jesus goes on, 'Because thou hast seen, thou hast believed. Blessed are they that have not seen and yet have believed' (xx. 26-29). Although this story is moulded on the one preceding, it is not just a variation told to emphasise the same point. It has a point of its own because it is told for the people who find it hard to believe in the resurrection and demand material proofs. The thought behind the story is that proofs exist which, however, only a man of little faith can need. A final appearance is recorded in chapter xxi which constitutes an appendix to the gospel. The scene is laid on the edge of Lake Gennezareth without any explanation as to how the disciples returned to Galilee. Seven of them, Peter, Thomas, Nathaniel, the sons of Zebedee and two others go fishing but labour all night without catching anything. In the morning Jesus unrecognised by them stood on the shore and asked them if they had anything to eat. They assured him, No. He told them to cast the net on the right side of the ship. They did so and were not able to draw it up for the 50

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number of the fishes. The beloved disciple then said to Peter, 'It is the Lord*. Immediately Peter who was naked put on his coat and threw himself into the water. The other disciples came to the shore and drew in the net. On the land they saw a fire lit, a fish on it and bread. Jesus ordered them to bring the fish which they had caught. Peter then came out of the water and drew in the net which was full of 153 fishes great and small.1 Jesus invited the fishermen to eat. Then they knew they were in the Lord's presence but no one dared to ask him, 'Who are you?' Jesus took a loaf and a fish and distributed them (xxi. 1-14). The meal was followed by a conversation between the Lord and Peter. After being assured by putting the question three times that his disciple loved him he entrusted him with the mission of feeding his flock and then predicted his coming martyrdom. At the end of this section Peter asks a question about the fate reserved for the beloved disciple to which the Lord gives a vague reply; the story explains how this reply had been misunderstood so that a legend was accepted that the beloved disciple was not destined to die (xxi. 15-23). The incoherences in this story of an appearance are obvious. The purpose of the miracle of fishing appears to be to provide food for the disciples and yet no explanation is given of how the bread and fish were provided which they actually found being cooked to give them a meal. When Peter throws himself into the sea after he recognises the Lord who is pointed out to him by the beloved disciple, he seems to do so in order to come up to him more quickly, as the gesture of putting on his coat out of respect seems to show, although it is somewhat unnatural in the circumstances. Yet as soon as he comes on shore he does not run to Jesus but helps his companions who had remained in the ship to draw in the net. We are bound to suppose that the story is a combination of two sources. One told of a lucky catch of fish which Jesus had ordered and was followed by a meal. In the other Jesus made himself known to his disciples by the breaking of the bread with them. This story has some distant analogies with the Emmaus incident. As for the first story it bears a striking resemblance to the incident of the miraculous draught of fishes recorded by Luke (v. i-n). It is difficult to discover the relationship between the two stories since we know one of them only 1 The symbolic meaning of this number is unknown to us. It is only necessary to notice that 153 is the triangular number of 17, as in Rev. xiii. 18 666 is the triangular number of 36. This cannot be fortuitous.

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when it has become combined with the other and has thus lost its original form. But it seems fairly certain that Luke possesses the story in its earlier form; at any rate Luke's version is nearer to the original than that given by the writer of John xxi and also the story did not originally belong to the cycle of resurrection stories. This conclusion is supported by the fact that the appearance on the edge of the lake is said to be the third (xxi. 14) while in reality it is the fourth. Two other manifestations of Jesus are numbered in the Fourth Gospel: the miracle at Cana (ii. 11) and the healing of the nobleman's son at Capernaum (iv. 54). The miraculous draught of fishes was originally the third incident of the Galilean ministry of Jesus. As a story of a resurrection appearance it was first altered by being combined with another and then has been reduced to its present form to serve as an introduction to Peter's conversation with Jesus.11 shall return to this in my second volume. The next point to consider is the way in which the two themes (i) the empty tomb and (2) the resurrection appearances have been linked together in the tradition. Several types of connection can be distinguished. One consists of simple juxtaposition. The most typical example of this comes from the gospel of Peter where the angel interprets the empty tomb as evidence of Jesus' ascension to heaven. This constitutes a consummation following which a resurrection appearance would be altogether out of place. There is a story of an appearance2 taking place afterwards (58 ff.) but it has no logical or formal connection with the story of the empty tomb. It is quite a separate story with a new beginning. It must have originally been the same story as that found in Mark, if we agree that the prophecy which Jesus makes in xiv. 28, 'But after that I am risen, I will go before you into Galilee' is a later addition3 which in its turn has caused xvi. 7 to be inserted announcing a resurrection appearance in Galilee.4 The words break the organic link between verses 27 and 29 in a very awkward fashion. 1

See Egl. Prim., pp. 191 ff. It would be more accurate to say that there is in the fragment in our possession a story suggesting an appearance. 8 And is missing in a papyrus of Fayoum, Pair. or. IV. 2, pp. 95 ff, no. 14. 4 If this verse is omitted the ending of Mark becomes more balanced. The women by keeping silence on what they had seen and on what the angel had told them are no longer disobeying orders given to them. Consequently we cease to be surprised that we are not told how, in spite of the women's disobedience, the disciples were informed of what the angel had wanted to be brought to their knowledge. 5* 2

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In Luke's gospel1 there is an example of this type of story where the empty tomb and appearances of Christ are simply placed next to each other. In Mark's gospel, as we have it, and in Matthew's a connection is made. In the story of the empty tomb an announcement of an appearance is made in the order given by the angel to the disciples to go into Galilee where they will see the Lord. But it looks like an artificial addition because in Mark's story the predicted appearance is never recounted and in Matthew's the appearance does not correspond to what has been foretold. The appearance in Galilee takes place on a mountain which had been appointed by Jesus as a meeting-place (xxviii. 16), although there is no mention of this mountain either in xxvi. 32 or in the angel's instructions.2 Matthew, on the other hand, found it necessary to establish a closer connection between the empty tomb and the resurrection appearances by introducing an appearance of the risen Christ to the women near by the empty tomb,3 but, as we have seen,4 the story of the empty tomb and that of the appearance to the women are placed side by side without any logical connection between them. The closest connection between the two themes of the empty tomb and the appearances is found in John's narrative (xx. 1-18) where Mary Magdalene's discovery of the empty tomb culminates in an appearance which originally must have been thought of as a unique appearance preceding Jesus' ascension to heaven. The story is a brilliant composition but is made up out of disparate elements which can be easily distinguished from each other because they are only placed together side by side. Mary Magdalene comes by herself to the sepulchre for no possible purpose except just to see it, since the body of Jesus was anointed with myrrh and aloes and wrapped up in bandages before it was 1 Verse 12 of chapter xxiv is not reckoned to belong to the authentic text. It is missing in D. it.t Marcion. 2 Perhaps it is right to suppose that behind Matthew's story lies a tradition which knew nothing of the empty tomb and told of an appearance on a mountain in Galilee which Jesus had appointed beforehand as a meeting-place for his disciples. The age and character of this tradition cannot be accurately given. In the light of this conjecture it is legitimate to ask if the prominent place occupied by the discovery of the empty tomb in all the stories concerning the resurrection may not be partly explained as a reaction against the tradition which made Galilee alone the birthplace of the faith in the resurrection. 3 This introduction also satisfies a desire to harmonise the earliest tradition locating the appearances in Galilee with the later tradition placing them in Judaea. 4 See pp. 32 ff.

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buried. She finds that the stone has been removed and without going near and looking inside the tomb runs to Simon Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved and says to them 'They have taken away the Lord out of the sepulchre and we know not where they have laid him'. Although all she has seen is that the stone has been rolled away she says,'They have taken away the Lord*. Although no other woman is ever mentioned in the story, she says, 'We do not know*. Mary Magdalene's encounter with the disciples comes therefore from one source while the story of her visit to the sepulchre comes from another. Peter and the anonymous disciple run together. The latter arrives first. He bends down to look in and sees the linen clothes on the ground. Simon Peter comes up behind, goes in, and sees the linen clothes lying and the napkin which was about his head by itself.1 The other disciple then goes in. He sees and believes. After they have made these enquiries they return and ask no further questions about them before the appearance of Christ, on the evening of the same day, to them and others. We are not told that Mary Magdalene came back to the sepulchre after meeting Peter and the beloved disciple. Yet after they have gone she is depicted as back at the tomb weeping. It is exactly the same situation which existed before she went to meet the disciples. The fragment concerning Peter and the anonymous disciple has been so clumsily inserted into the Mary Magdalene story that it cannot be attributed to the evangelist. It comes from a tradition the origin of which can easily be conjectured. It arose from a desire to make apostles as well as a woman witnesses of the empty tomb. Verse 11 which says that Mary Magdalene wept beside the tomb originally belonged to the beginning of the story. Kneeling down she saw two angels seated in the place where the body had been laid. They ask her why she weeps and she replies that they have taken away the body of her Lord: she does not know where they have put it. Then Mary Magdalene turns round and sees Jesus standing up but does not recognise him. Why Mary turned round so as to see Jesus is not explained; she is wholly occupied in conversation with the angels. As she must be waiting for their reply it is not natural for her to turn her back on them. What has been said of them serves 1 There exists here a point of argument against the theory that the corpse had been stolen. The body of Jesus would not have been stripped before it was taken away, cf. Baldensperger, Urchristliche Apologetik Die aelteste Auferstehungskontroverse, Strasburg, 1909, p. 23.

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no purpose because we hear no more of them. It is clear that the ending of the incident about the angels has been suppressed to make room for an appearance of Jesus. An analysis of what follows will enable us to conjecture what the original end of the incident concerning the angels must have been. Jesus says to Mary Magdalene, what the angels had said to her, 'Woman, why weepest thou?' adding, 'Whom seekest thou?' Mary Magdalene who thinks that she is talking to the gardener says to him, 'Sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away'. Jesus then says to her, 'Mary* and she turning round* replies to him in Hebrew 'Rabboni* (which means 'Master'). After she has recognised Jesus, it is clear, although the text does not say so, that Mary intends to throw herself at Jesus' feet or to grasp him in her arms, but he stops her doing this and forbids her to touch him because he has not yet gone to his Father.2 He then orders her to tell the disciples that he is going to his Father and their Father, to his God and their God. Mary Magdalene delivers this message. We are not told how it was received and so we may suppose that they are convinced by what Mary Magdalene told them. As I have already pointed out, the incident concerning Jesus has been substituted for the end of the incident concerning the angels. We can, however, guess what the end must have been. It is certain that it was an announcement of the resurrection. It is safe to suppose that its wording must have been analogous to the announcement which Jesus himself makes. The angels must have told Mary Magdalene that Jesus had been restored to his Father and his God. 1 It is difficult to explain Mary's gesture which at that moment is repeated. It is equally unsatisfactory to take the word metaphorically in a psychological sense and refer it to a change in mental disposition. Perhaps the text has been altered. 2 The motive behind this prediction is not clear. Van den Bergh van Eysingh, 'Le Christ charge" d'Esprit', Premiers Merits du christiamsme, Paris, Amsterdam, 1930, pp. 139 fT., thinks that with a human being Jesus would have lost a mysterious power needed by him for his ascent to heaven, but this idea is altogether at variance with Johannine christology. The idea that contact with the risen Christ would be dangerous for human beings is equally out of the question, if we take into account the stress laid in the resurrection stories, especially those in the Fourth Gospel (xx. 26-9) on the disciples touching Jesus after his resurrection. Perhaps it may be supposed that in his descent into hell Jesus had contracted some taint of which he would not be rid until he was restored to heaven. We must confess that we offer this explanation only in default of a better one. May a better explanation be that we have here a recollection of the story in its earliest form which contained no mention of an appearance.

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Schwartz considered that this was the end of John's gospel before it was revised into the form in which we now have it. Schwartz's theory can appeal to purely literary considerations in its favour but it seems certain that the writer who conceived the scene in which angels announce the return of Jesus to God never imagined that an appearance of Jesus could have followed it. It is just as likely that the story has been changed so as to make room for an appearance at the end.2 Among the stories to be found in the gospel tradition those concerning the resurrection show the greatest diversity in form and it may therefore be assumed that they have changed the most in the course of development. We have seen in John xxi how a story of a miraculous draught of fishes which originally belonged to the Galilean ministry of Jesus became a story of a resurrection appearance. Conversely it can be proved that a story of a resurrection appearance became an incident in Jesus' ministry: it is the story of the transfiguration (Mark ix. 2-8 and the corresponding passages).3 The transfiguration provides assent from heaven to Peter's confession with which it is closely connected. The three intimate disciples, Peter, James, and John witness it. The essential elements in the story are the appearance of Jesus clothed in glory, the witness of the two heavenly beings4 who appear on his right and left hand, and lastly the heavenly voice which declares, 'This is my beloved Son, hear ye him'. The precise chronological sequence 'six days after'5 with which the story begins deserves attention. As we can find nothing similar to it except in the stories of the passion and the resurrection, we have here the first sign of transposition.6 1

Schwartz, Aporien in vierten Evangelium, I. N.G., 1907, p. 348. A story exists which connects together the empty tomb and an appearance much more closely than in the Fourth Gospel. It is to be found in the Epistola Apostolorum (9-10) but this is a late document (written between 160 and 170) and contains not a free development of the tradition but a literary combination of the gospel stories. 8 See my article 'Esquisse d'une interpretation du recit de la transfiguration', R.h.r.9 1920, LXXXI, pp. 145-57 (here will be found a catalogue of the previous literature on the subject); Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition* Goettingen, 1931, pp. 73 f.; Harnack, S.B.A., 1922, pp. 73 ff.; ed. Meyer, Urspr. u. Gesch. der Mormonen, pp. 280 ff.; Urspr. u. Auf. Ill, pp. 152 ff., attack this interpretation. 4 Identified as Moses and Elijah but originally they may have been angels. * Luke says 'about eight days'. The number eight must have been due to an error in transcription and 'about' must have been added after the error had crept in to smooth out the contradiction with Mark. ' Certain incoherences in the story such as that belonging to the three tents which Peter proposes to put up are also proofs of editing. 2

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The declaration of the voice from heaven which is the culminating point of the story closely resembles that made at Jesus' baptism (Mark i. H, etc.). The author of the story of the transfiguration cannot have believed that the truth which had been revealed only to the three intimate disciples and which they had to keep secret had been publicly proclaimed in the presence of John the Baptist and the crowd. We cannot help but see a resemblance between the brightness of Jesus' countenance on the mount of transfiguration and the glory of the person of Christ which 2 Cor. iii. 7 ff. declares to be infinitely greater than that which shone on Moses' face as he came down from Sinai. The resemblance is closer still. Paul considers that the resurrection confers on Christ the heavenly attribute of glory and makes him 'the Lord' (Phil. ii. 9-11). Jesus is 'declared to be the son of God with power by (or after) the resurrection of the dead' (Rom. i. 4).1 What the heavenly voice proclaims on the mountain is that Jesus is the son of God and nothing else. The story of the transfiguration appears to have referred originally to a resurrection appearance where Jesus revealed himself on a mountain (as in Matthew) to the three intimate disciples with the attributes of heavenly glory and in the company of Moses and Elijah or angels. No story of a resurrection appearance could bear the character of a messianic proclamation, once Jesus was thought of as having been the Messiah from the time his ministry began, as the stories of the baptism show or as having revealed himself as the Messiah to his disciples. The story was therefore transposed and became an incident in Jesus' ministry. This transposition must have taken place before the stories of the baptism had assumed the form in which we have them.2 The stories of the resurrection appearances—even the earliest— cannot be harmonised without their being deprived of all their concrete elements and reduced to a bare outline containing nothing but a story of a vision. It would also be necessary to prove that no evangelist intended to relate all the resurrection appearances or even 1

For Paul Jesus is the pre-existent son of God. The resurrection reveals this attribute which until then was unnoticed by the heavenly powers. But behind Paul's formula a more primitive conception can be discovered which maintained that the resurrection made Jesus the son of God. a This interpretation is confirmed by the fact that in the apocalypse of Peter (especially in the Ethiopian recension) there exists a scene resembling that of the transfiguration intimately connected with a resurrection appearance and a story of the ascension.

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all those of which he was aware. Alternatively it would be necessary to reduce the stories to a unity by transforming them on the lines of some very complicated system so as to prove that some were derived from others.1 Anyone will be convinced that no harmonisation is possible if he considers such a problem as the various persons who are supposed to have experienced the first resurrection appearance or the place where it is supposed to have taken place.2 No fact was more important for the primitive faith than the resurrection of Jesus; yet, on no fact is the tradition so diverse and incapable of being reduced to a unity. The stories as we have them compel us to admit that they were diverse and incapable of being reduced to a uniform pattern from a very early time. From a single elementary theme there seems to have spontaneously grown and multiplied a host of stories. Some of these stories are simply literary creations with no concrete happenings behind them, such as the appearance to Joseph of Arimathea in the gospel of Nicodemus, to take an example which cannot be called in question but this explanation does not cover all the stories. It is a matter of certainty that in the period following the death of Jesus the disciples were convinced that they saw him alive. Paul's evidence leaves no doubt on this point. He may have been the victim of an illusion but the sincerity of his statements is beyond question. It must be admitted too, that the multiplicity of the stories is explained by a multiplicity of visions. Of the ten appearances related in the gospels, two only are to individuals;3 of the six recorded by Paul, three are to individuals. We have here therefore a marked diminution in the number of appearances to individuals in proportion to those experienced collectively. The reason for this is doubtless that on the principle testis unus9 testis nullus an appearance to an individual seemed less probable than an appearance collectively experienced. In this way the tradition developed into a systematic argument which might win over the indifferent and confound opponents. The needs of apologetic added to a spontaneous tendency for the tradition to assume a more material and concrete form introduced contradictions into the stories. How could a being, who appeared 1 As Voelter has done, Die Enstehung des Glaubens an die Auferstehung Jesu, Strasburg, 1910. 1 Schmiedel, E.B. IV, cols. 4041-4, 4051-2, gives an impressive chart of the contradictions in the stories. 8 One of these (the appearance to Simon) is only alluded to and another (the appearance to Mary Magdalene) has been inserted as an afterthought into a story which only mentioned one person to begin with.

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and disappeared suddenly and entered a room the doors of which were shut, eat and possess a body which could be touched and possessed wounds which were not even healed up? The growing materialisation of the appearances affected the place where they were thought to have happened. By insisting more and more on the idea that the corpse came to life again, men were bound to tend to place the appearances near the tomb where the corpse had been laid. Mark and Matthew1 have a tradition of an appearance in Galilee, Luke and John2 of an appearance in Judaea. In the forms in which we have them Matthew and John combine both traditions. One is plainly a transposition of the other and the Galilean tradition can be said for certain to be the earlier. It is impossible to suppose that it could be formed on the basis of a Judaean tradition while the converse development is easy to explain. It comes from a tendency to connect the appearance with the discovery of the empty tomb and from the importance of Jerusalem in primitive Christian thought. There the church came into existence and there it felt for a long time was its seat and centre.3 Appearances in Galilee on the other hand were quickly forgotten because so far as we know Christianity did not develop in Galilee in its earliest days to any appreciable extent.4 Furthermore, there were two reasons why the disciples should have been impelled to return to Jerusalem when they had become convinced of their master's resurrection. First, if, as the gospel of Peter says (59),5 the disciples left Jerusalem in tears and grief, it was natural that their faith being restored to them on a new level of life they should have been inspired to return to the place from which they had set out in despair. They must also have felt impelled to carry the news of Jesus' resurrection to his disciples in Jerusalem. Secondly, there was also the idea that Jesus would return to Jerusalem because he died there.6 1

Before the appearance to the women was put in. In the gospel before chapter xxi was added. For a long time the church in Jerusalem was thought to be the true church of which the other churches were no more than colonies. 4 The silence of Acts about Galilee is typical. It is not named in the missionary programme of i. 8 and only receives any mention at all in a purely editorial passage (ix. 31). If there were any attempts to evangelise in Galilee they must have failed probably because of the way in which Jesus' ministry in Galilee came to an end. See V. dej., pp. 342 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 359 fT. 5 This statement is very likely to be true and very probably comes from an early tradition. f K. Hall, Der Kirchenbegriff des Patdus im semen Verhaltnis zu dem der Urge" meinde, Gesammelte Aufsitze zur Kirchengesckichte, Tubingen, 1928, II, p. 55; Lietzmann, H. I, p. 61. 8

8

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The resurrection appearances appear to have been fairly frequent at first but must have soon become rare. A time came when appearances ceased and this gave rise to the idea that the possibility of their happening was confined to a limited period.1 As the resurrection appearances ceased to be phenomena of actual experience they became merely the data for systematic proof. As the tradition developed into a fixed form and the resurrection appearances became limited to a closed period, some of the appearances were eliminated as can be seen in the way in which the appearance to Paul is narrated in the book of Acts.2 The diversity in the gospel stories cannot be explained except on the assumption that diverse stories were selected from what was formerly a richer tradition still. The preponderance of appearances which were a collective experience has been already noted;3 it is also very typical. We lack the landmarks which would help us to know how the selection was made from the tradition as it evolved and developed. 5.—THE ASCENSION

The ascension is a late element in the tradition. In the earliest period men appeared to have hesitated in mind between the idea of an indefinite period of appearances and one of a single appearance. All the gospel stories offer a combination of these two ideas. The hesitation is particularly noticeable when Luke's gospel is compared with the book of the Acts.4 If we ignore the appearance to Simon to which only an allusion is made, the two appearances on the road to Emmaus and to the disciples gathered together in Jerusalem form one story only; they are, if I may say so, one resurrection appearance experienced on two occasions. After Jesus has promised his disciples that they will be endowed with the power of the Holy Spirit, he leads them out as far as Bethany and, while he is blessing them, he is separated from them and is taken up into heaven.5 The book of the Acts tells us that Jesus showed himself 1

On the other hand this idea must have come into existence when the resurrection appearances were envisaged to possess such material characteristics that it became difficult to combine the glorified life of Christ with his corporeal mania 8 festation on earth. See pp. 43 ff. See pp. 62 if. 4 Both books are attributed to the same author but the beginning of Acts has been revised, cf. Introd. Ill, pp. 155 ff. 5 The words 'and he was taken up into heaven* are missing in X D and several manuscripts of the early Latin versions and syr*n. They must be considered authentic; a desire to eliminate the contradiction between Luke's ending and the beginning of Acts explains the suppression.

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alive to his disciples for forty days and provided them with many proofs of his resurrection, gave them instructions, and promised them the gift of the Holy Spirit who would give them power to become his witnesses to the ends of the earth (i. 3-8). When he had completed these instructions he was taken up and a cloud received him out of their sight. While they watched him ascending up to heaven two angels explained to them that he would return in the same way (i. 9-12). Compared with the narrative in the gospel that of Acts extends the period of the appearances perceptibly; it also states more definitely that after this period there will be no further appearances. The fact that this idea prevailed over the earliest tradition shows that it must have arisen in response to a profound need.1 6.—THE TRADITION AND ITS FORMATION

The faith in the resurrection originates from the appearances. All the other elements in the tradition are the fruit either of reflection or of an elaboration of the stories for purposes of apologetic or, as is most often the case, of both these factors. We may accept with reserve Pascal's saying, *I only believe those stories for the truth of which the witnesses are prepared to give their lives'. For in every case we have to rely on the good faith of such witnesses. But there is more truth in the statement, 'They saw Jesus because they believed and were convinced that he was living', than in that which lies behind the tradition, 'They believed in the resurrection of Jesus because they saw him living after his death'. The resurrection of Jesus is in reality the resurrection of that faith in him which the disciples had had during his ministry. Those who experienced the first appearances—and in particular Peter who seems to have had the first one of all, the one which set in motion all the others—had the feeling that they owed to them a faith of which they had no previous knowledge. Others, on the contrary, in particular the apostle Paul, knew of this faith previously but were hostile to it. The two cases differ psychologically and must be considered separately. 1

It is easy to discern the reasons why the period of the appearances was limited to forty days. Forty is a sacred number. There is a clear correspondence between the forty days of the temptation (Mark i. 13 and corr.) which was the period of preparation for Jesus' ministry on earth and the forty days which preceded the ascension and was the period of preparation for his ministry in heaven. Concerning other traditions which have given other lengths to the period of the appearances (eighteen months, eleven or twelve years) see Lafoi a la res., pp. 354 f.

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From the stories in the New Testament it is possible to realise that the vision of the risen Christ depended on something more than physical causes. This is a matter of inference rather than evidence. Jesus never appeared to those who were indifferent or hostile but only to men who were his disciples or were destined to become so. The book of the Acts goes so far as to restrict the visions to the Twelve (x. 40-42; xiii. 31); Celsus in the second century was ironical about this, saying that if Jesus had really risen again, he would not have shown himself 'to a silly weak woman' but to those who had proceeded against him, to the man who had condemned him, and finally to everyone.1 The first affirmation of the resurrection of Jesus probably only referred to his entrance into heaven. The idea that Jesus would triumph in spite of his death appears under this form in the promise accompanying the distribution of the cup at the last supper (Mark xiv. 23 ff. and corresponding passages) and in the reply to the repentant thief (Luke xxiii. 43). It is quite possible that the words of Jesus to Thomas, 'Happy are those who have not seen and have believed* (John xx. 29; cf. xx. 8) contain a note of regret for a form of faith which depended less upon statements of fact. We find perhaps an echo of a primitive conception, which in support of the reality of the resurrection appealed only to spiritual convictions in Acts ii. 25-36, where Peter appeals not to the empty tomb or to the appearances as evidence for the resurrection but only to Psalm i6.2 In the same way what is said about the resurrection in reference to the healing of the impotent man seems to have referred only to evidence which is entirely spiritual (Acts iii. 15; iv. 10). If the faith in the resurrection had originated from the conviction of having seen the Lord living after his death, it does not follow that the proclamation of this fact in its earliest form would have referred to appearances of the risen Christ. It may have been that the first disciples felt a kind of shame which prevented them from recounting certain moments in their spiritual life which they judged too sacred to speak of openly. But this feeling must have been quickly neutralised by the demands of apologetic and by the need which 1 Origen, 2

C. Celsum, II, 55. What is said in this passage about the tomb of David seems so naturally to suggest an allusion to the empty tomb that critics with such diverse views as Loisy (Les Actes des Apdtres, Paris, 1920, pp. 290 f.) and Jacquier (Les Actes des Apdtres, Paris, 1926, p. 72) think, the former that this illusion was suppressed by a clumsy editor, the latter that it was implied. Both these interpretations are equally arbitrary.

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they experienced not to restrict themselves to affirmations but to provide proofs and also to reply to the objections of opponents. The proof which depended on both the empty tomb and the appearances must have developed in two phases. First of all, the resurrection appearances were referred to by themselves as i Corinthians xv shows, which only refers to the burial of Jesus as a proof of his death. Preachers may have also had to begin by making only vague and guarded references to the appearances as the source of their faith. They may also have mentioned the empty tomb, not as a proof of the resurrection but as a result of it. Later—and without doubt in an environment far away from Jerusalem where the circumstances attendant upon the burial of Jesus had been forgotten or were not known—the statement about the empty tomb changed its character and became a concrete story which was used as a proof. In other places—and doubtless first in Jerusalem where a memory of the actual circumstances in which Jesus was buried must have lasted for a long time—the empty tomb could not be used as a proof of the resurrection so that the scruples which were felt about speaking of the resurrection appearances were overcome. As the empty tomb or the appearances or both of them came to be used as proofs of the resurrection the stories became more concrete in character and details were introduced which were intended to answer objections which were raised. By this means also, men were impelled to form ideas concerning the mode of the resurrection and specially concerning the process by which it was realised. The earliest conception to be found on this point is what may be called the idea of passive resurrection such as is offered by the apostle Paul and the book of the Acts. It explains the resurrection as due to an act of the power of God. In the Fourth Gospel (x. 17-18) is found the idea of active resurrection, conceived of as the act of Christ himself who takes back a life of which he had been able momentarily to deprive himself but could not really lose altogether. The development of christology is to be found as the reason for this change. The eternal Logos of God cannot die: only the flesh in which the logos has come to dwell can be tainted. As the tradition developed, themes which at first were independent of each other became grouped together and organised. The three fundamental moments of the burial, the empty tomb, and the resurrection appearances tended to form one continuous history. Next, as the conception of the appearances became more material, they were confined to a period of limited time. To these three

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moments was then added a fourth, that of the ascension which is thought of as the beginning of Christ's heavenly life, the first act of which will be to give the Holy Spirit to his own. As long as the conception of a passive resurrection was dominant, nothing more was needed than simply placing the burial beside the discovery of the empty tomb. The time passed by Jesus in the tomb was thought of as a pause or noticeable break between the terrestrial activity of Christ and his celestial activity which the creative or rather recreative act of God was to make possible. But this held good no longer when the conception of active resurrection was established. If Christ did not die completely—how could it be said that he died completely if he preserved the power of taking back the life which he had freely laid down?—it is difficult to think of him as totally inactive between his death and resurrection. The Fourth Gospel affirms that the activity of the Son is as incessant as that of the Father (v. 17). The problem then is, 'What did the divine Logos do while the flesh with which the Logos was united lay in the tomb?' The anxiety to solve this problem did not apparently meet with the same scruples which resisted the inclination to picture the resurrection itself. The solution was found by introducing the theme of the descent into hades which appeared at first in the form of the preaching to the dead. The idea of the mission to the dead arose originally from a natural anxiety. If salvation was only possible through faith in Christ how could the patriarchs and saints of the old dispensation be saved? On the other hand, it was impossible to entertain the idea that the greater part of humanity were condemned to eternal death because they had never had the opportunity to hear the word of Christ which could save them. This gave rise to the thought that one day, either in this world or in the other, all men will hear the word. In John v. 25 it is said without giving an exact date that 'the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of Man and they that hear shall live*. The first epistle of Peter also refers to the preaching to the dead without any mention of the day (iii. 18 f.; iv. 6). At a later date it is stated that Jesus went down to Hades to preach salvation there between his death and resurrection (ev. Petr. 41). Later on from a combination of the idea that Christ descended into Hades and the old myth of a fight between the powers above and those below emerged the story of the harrowing of hell by Jesus who came and snatched the dead from the clutches of Thanatos, Hades, and Satan. But this does not belong to the early period of the

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church's history. By the insertion of the theme of the descent into Hades the tradition concerning the resurrection was formed and completed into a continuous story beginning with the burial and ending with the Ascension and Pentecost. But the affirmation of the resurrection in its completed form became something very different from what it was originally. Originally the expression of an experience it assumed the character of a factual history which can be proved true and must be believed if one is to be saved. This revolutionary change in the primitive character of the tradition is due to what can be considered to be a law of religious development. When the period of creativity comes to an end and one of consolidation follows, the fundamental theme of a new religion and the principal object of its worship become detached from the experience which they symbolise, acquire an objective character, and form the subject of a sacred history and a thesis for systematic apologetic. What Bergson calls the mythmaking function intervenes at this stage. The stories created by it, even when they do not correspond with reality or only do so remotely, are still charged with spiritual significance, because, while they may not be entirely products of the imagination, imagination kindles them into life and faith gives them power. After the original fervour has subsided and the spiritual excitement has died down, the stories produced by it change their character; while to begin with, although they were inaccurate on material points, they formed a true expression of the spiritual realities of a faith, they now become statements of facts in relation to one another which serve both as an expression and perhaps still more as a proof of belief and doctrine.1 1 It is possible that the tradition concerning the resurrection may have been on some accessory points influenced by the old myth of the god who dies and rises again. It is possible that there was not a great difference between the way in which a Christian of the fourth or fifth century thought of the resurrection of Jesus and that in which a worshipper of Attis, Osiris, and Adonis thought of the history of the hero of his cult. But we are concerned with the feelings of Christians of the first generation. While an Adonis, Attis, or Osiris were lost in such a fabulous past that they had become unreal, Christians had the feeling that the drama of the life, death, and resurrection of the Lord had been enacted so recently that they felt they possessed a solid tradition. It must be added that if the faith in the resurrection had been a transposition of a myth, it would have been from the beginning the object regularly celebrated in a ritual, whereas we only find traces of such a cult at a comparatively late date.

5

6 655

CHAPTER II

The Birth of the Faith in the Resurrection I.—THE CHARACTER OF THE FAITH IN THE RESURRECTION

FROM our analysis of the stories of the cycle of the resurrection we, have seen how a tradition developed under the pressure of two demands, (i) to express a faith and (2) to defend it. But how did this faith come into being? The problem belongs not so much to history as to psychology. We can take what facts we like as the beginning of the development of the tradition and in spite of the manifest contradictions existing among them and the impossibility of harmonising them without doing violence to them we may yet suppose that all those facts reported in the New Testament are historically true. But by themselves they cannot explain a faith which looks far beyond them. The facts only express the faith by the interpretation put upon them. First of all then the essence of this faith must be defined as well as its function in the life and thought of primitive Christianity.1 It was neither impossible or even difficult for men of the first century to entertain the idea of a dead man coming back to life,2 but Christians never considered the resurrection of Jesus to belong to the same species as those recounted in many traditions, the great mass of which the public never thought of doubting as having really happened. They were not final victories gained over death. Most of those who had been restored to life were supposed to have perished 1 For further details concerning this chapter as for the preceding one I refer to my book Lafoi a la rds. See also my article 'Le caractere de la foi a la resurrection dans le christianisme primitif, R.h.p.r. XI, 1931, pp. 329-52. 3 The gospels contain several stories of resurrections (Mark v. 22-43; Luke vii. 7-17; John xi. 1-44). Acts has two stories (ix. 36-42; xx. 7-12). A fragment of the apologist Quadratus (preserved by Eusebius, H.e. iv. 3, 2) who wrote at the beginning of Hadrian's reign attributed to Jesus more resurrections than are reported by the gospels. 66

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prematurely; it was thought that while their resurrection had restored to them their normal span of life, it had not changed their nature which remained mortal as before. But Christ by his resurrection had finally conquered death. 'Christ being risen from the dead dieth no more, death hath no more dominion over him' (Rom. vi. 9), and the second epistle to Timothy speaks of Christ 'who hath abolished death and hath brought life and immortality to light' (i. 10). The ideas of the Lord's resurrection and his parousia are closely connected. Because Christ has triumphed over death he will return on the clouds of heaven to preside over the universal resurrection and establish the kingdom of God. Thus the resurrection of Christ comprises the idea of his glorification, his entry into the heavenly life of the world to come, and his triumph over death as well as the idea of a return to life. Whatever forms we may suppose primitive Christian thought to have taken, we are bound to come to one conclusion. The importance of the resurrection does not lie in the fact that it destroyed the ignominy of the degrading punishment of the cross but that it made Jesus a heavenly being, and revealed him as one, able to redeem those who believe on him and to assure them of their salvation. 'God hath made that same Jesus whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ', we read in Peter's first sermon preserved in Acts (ii. 36) which constitutes the evidence for the earliest Christian thought1 and on account of that when the times of refreshing shall come and the restitution of all things which God hath spoken by the mouth of the prophets, Jesus shall be sent as Messiah to blot out the sins of those who shall be converted and to admit them into the heavenly kingdom which shall then be set up (Acts iii. 19 if.). Christian thought in this primitive form disclosed by Peter's sermons already possesses two poles. On the one hand it is the cult of the Lord Jesus, i.e. of a being who after a life on earth and his death on a cross is now living and triumphant in heaven. On the other hand it is Jesus who died and at the same time lives and will return. The belief in the resurrection, i.e. in the triumph over death and the elevation to life in heaven unites these two conceptions of Jesus which otherwise would contradict each other. In the apostle Paul's thought2 there is a close connection between 1

In Acts ii. 33 is found the equivalent phrase 'being by the right hand of God exalted*. It is repeated in v. 31. 8 For a complete summary of Pauline thought see further on pp. 223 ff.

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Christ's resurrection1 and the one expected on the last day.2 From this comes the title given to Christ, first-begotten among the dead, TTpOJTOTOKOS

€K TOJV VZKp&V

(Col.

L l8| cf. ROHl. viii. 2Q', ReV.

i. $).*

It signifies not only that Christ's resurrection is the first of all those which will happen but also that it makes the other resurrections possible. The resurrection is the ground of the justification of believers. On the one hand, faith, and on the other, the sacraments of baptism and the eucharist unite the believer closely to Christ and associate him with the drama of His death and resurrection. The believer by dying with Christ expiates his sins and is freed from the power of the Law, the flesh, sin, death, and demons. 'He rises with Christ and so enters into a new life, the life of the Spirit and is become a new creature'. Although he continues to live in this present world, he belongs to the new celestial world which is that of the Spirit, the world over which the Lord reigns, the Lord who is said to be the Spirit (2 Cor. iii. 17) and which draws from Him the very principle of its existence and its life (cf. Rom. vi. 3-5). If Paul had considered that the resurrection was only the reversal of the undeserved fate to which Jesus had submitted and nothing more than his rehabilitation, then it could not have brought in its train such far-reaching consequences; it would not have created a new order of things. It might have saved Jesus, perhaps; it would not have saved mankind. Paulinism could not exist without the exaltation of Christ to life in heaven. On the other hand it could dispense with the appearances as their only function is to reveal a transcendent reality. Christ's resurrection is the ground of redemption as well as justification. Paul has two quite distinct conceptions of how redemption will be realised. They are quite independent of each other; no attempt is made even to harmonise them.4 According to one conception5 redemption will be completed at Christ's parousia when he will destroy all hostile powers, last of all, the power &dvaros, who 1

It is clearly revealed in chapter xv of the first epistle to the Corinthians. In the case of the elect, who are still alive on earth at the time of the parousia, they will be transferred into beings resembling those who rise again, i.e. they will be endowed with a body which will no longer be terrestrial, psychic, and earthy, but heavenly, spiritual and glorified. 3 We must consider the title given to Christ in i Cor. xv. 20 'first fruits of them that slept* to be the equivalent of the phrase 'first begotten among the dead*. * Concerning these two conceptions see pp. 197 ff. 6 Stated in i Thess. iv. 13-18; i Cor. xv. 20-28, 50-57. 2

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brings death to men, and is certainly to be identified with Satan (cf. Heb. ii. 14) although Paul does not expressly do so. Then in Christ the elect will be made alive (i Cor. xv. 22).l Unless the resurrection of Christ is thought to be his exaltation to life in heaven, the parousia with the general resurrection and salvation are not possible. The other conception2 casts off the eschatological clothes in which Paul's theology took shape. The believer's destiny ceases to be bound up with the world's. It is no longer thought that the faithful are in a temporary state of sleep and prostration which they will throw off at the parousia. Each one accomplishes his redemption at the time of his death, when the inner man, which grows and is consummated as the outer man perishes, comes into full flower (2 Cor. iv. 16-18). 'To depart', 'not to abide in the flesh', i.e. to die is to be with Christ which is far better for the believer (Phil. i. 21-23). Paul gives no description of this process either in the second epistle to the Corinthians or in the epistle to the Philippians nor does he offer any theory in explanation of this transition of the faithful to life in heaven. He only envisages it from the point of view of the experience of the believer. Nevertheless he expresses himself in terms which clearly show that it results from an action of the risen Christ. 'Now he that hath wrought us for the selfsame thing is God, who also hath given unto us the earnest of the Spirit', says Paul (2 Cor. v. 5). Further the gift of the Spirit cannot be separated in Paul's thought from the action of Christ and springs from the communion with Christ enjoyed by the believer. Finally Christ's celestial life plays an essential part in the process of redemption so far as it is a transformation of human nature from a state of psyche to one of pneuma. By identifying himself with sinful and condemned humanity Christ re-established the link which had united men to their creator once before. Christ died because he identified himself in this way but God has raised him up. Because of this by his action in heaven he is able to exalt those who believe in him to the life of the Spirit. The theological interpretation of the resurrection outlined in Peter's sermons and developed by Paul expresses a faith which the whole early church shared. From the synoptic gospels and the book of the Acts we can grasp its essentials. 1 The categorical manner in which Paul expresses himself shows that all men will rise again but those who are not of the elect will meet with a judgement which will send them to destruction. 2 As is found in 2 Cor. iv. i6-v. 10; Phil. i. 21-26.

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The gospel tradition shows us that believers not only looked for light on what Jesus did and taught; they not only found in his words rules of life or the expression of truths which could enrich their devotion. They considered Jesus to be something more than the prophet of the Gospel or the preacher of the doctrine of salvation. He was himself the direct object of their faitn. They did not look on him as a historical personage but as a living being. They felt his presence and action. They knew that he was present when two or three were gathered together in his name (Matt, xviii. 20), when they baptised, celebrated 'the Lord's supper', or used his name to exorcise a demon or heal someone sick. The gospel tradition carries traces of a collective, anonymous, and impersonal effort, which in place of the real sequence of events in the life of Jesus substituted the idea of the realisation of a divine plan. If Jesus was not listened to or followed and came into collision with the authorities of his people, who did not rest until they had him put to death, it was because God had decided in advance that it must be so. The centre of gravity in the life and work of Jesus was sought not in what he had done and taught but in the drama of his death and resurrection. Everything was envisaged in the light projected on the gospel history by the resurrection. It was naturally supposed that Jesus had proclaimed it in advance.1 The drama of Calvary could only be regarded as the prelude of the victory realised by the resurrection. The factual material of the gospel tradition in this way became subject to a revision which gave the central place to the resurrection. The stories of the cycle of the resurrection, considered without submitting them to criticism but only for the purpose of trying to disengage from them the ideas and feelings they express, confirm this conclusion. 1

According to the Synoptics Jesus predicted his sufferings, death and resurrection plainly three times (Mark viii. 31; ix. 31 -33; x. 32-34 and par.), but the evangelists are careful to indicate very clearly that this information was beyond the understanding of the disciples. According to Luke (xxiv. 13 ff.) the risen Jesus appeared to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus and explained the Scriptures to them which show that the Messiah must suffer before entering into his glory. A little later he appears to the disciples reunited in Jerusalem and explains to them that it was necessary 'that all should be accomplished which was written of him in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms'. Then he opens their understanding that they might understand the Scriptures. Finally he recalls to them that according to the Scriptures it behoved Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day and that repentance should be preached in his name among all nations (xxiv. 44-47). 70

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Christians saw a miracle in the tomb of Jesus when it was found open and empty. The Jesus who afterwards showed himself to his disciples is beyond question the same man who had been buried. His body is real although in some stories it is said to be freed from the contingencies to which ordinary bodies are subject. It appears and disappears suddenly without anybody being able to understand how or why. It can come into a room the doors of which are shut. Very much less interest is shown in the resurrection itself as a fact, and in the conditions under which it happened than in the ensuing consequences. Early tradition does not tell us how Jesus left the tomb. When the extraordinary plasticity of the stories of the cycle of the resurrection is taken into account as well as the ease with which they were shaped, transformed, and organised, the silence on this point is very striking. It is explained chiefly by the feeling there was, that the resurrection of Jesus contained a mystery and by the fact that all attention was given to its manifestations and results. Above all things it was desired to explain how the disciples who had been scattered when their master was arrested regained their courage and found a faith which was more assured than before and had become aggressive and victorious. The book of the Acts lays a still greater insistence on this idea. The pouring out of the Spirit as a result of the resurrection, which the apostles must await at Jerusalem, will make them able to be witnesses of Jesus to the ends of the world. In the subsequent narrative the resurrection occupies a central position in the preaching of the Gospel. The apostles are the witnesses of it.1 In the Fourth Gospel as in the Synoptics the resurrection had been predicted in advance by the Scriptures, but the disciples only knew of it after the event (xx. 9). Only then too did they understand the prediction made by Jesus (ii. 21-22). But in the farewell discourses Johannine thought assumes a form perceptibly different from that of the Synoptics. One of the essential themes developed in them is the promise that the disciples will see Jesus again after the imminent separation. But, besides the promise that they will see him again and so change their grief into joy (xiv. 3, 18-19, 23; xvi. 17, 20, 22), there is also the promise to send the Paraclete, i.e. the Spirit (xiv. 16, 25; xv. 26; xvi. 7, I3-I5).2 The ideas of parousia and 1 Among the documents revealing the place held in religious thought and life at the end of the first century by the belief in the resurrection must be mentioned the canticles in the Apocalypse and the fragment of a hymn preserved in i Tim. iii. 16. * Concerning the Johannine notion of the Spirit see pp. 358 ff.

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pneumatick inspiration are transposed and spiritualised so as to become the idea of the glorified Christ acting upon his own. The Johannine notion of the Paraclete is thus brought into close relationship with the resurrection as a necessary condition of the action of the glorified Christ and a guarantee of the parousia. John has quite a different conception of the resurrection from Paul but its function in his soteriology is similar. Paul's conception of the resurrection is passive. God raises up Christ by an act of his power. John has an active conception: Christ raises himself, because he has the power to lay down his life and take it up again (x. 17-18). Although his death is represented as a momentary triumph of the Prince of the world, i.e. of the devil (xiv. 30) this idea comes entirely from the tradition since this death is the glorification of the Son of Man (xii. 23). Like a grain of corn which must die to bear much fruit, so the Johannine Christ declares that a man must lose his life in this world to have life eternal. A man must then follow him in his death in order to be 'honoured by the Father' (xii. 24-26). There is no difficulty in seeing here the influence of Pauline ideas. The Johannine Christ declares that when he is lifted up1 he will draw all men unto him (xii. 32). This shows the importance of Christ's return to heaven for salvation. Nevertheless the resurrection does not play the same part in John's theology as in Paul's. With John there can be no question of being associated with Christ's death as a condition of being associated with his resurrection, since John considers Christ's death not even to be his temporary annihilation but to be itself his return to heaven, Christ's death only comes into his soteriology because participation in the life divine which the Logos has revealed to men can only begin when Christ, has returned to heaven. 2.—THE O R I G I N S OF THE IDEA OF RESURRECTION

Attempts have been made to find the origin of the idea of resurrection in the myths of gods who die and come to life again, which occupied an important place in the religions of the ancient world. On secondary points they may have influenced the form assumed by the Christian belief in the resurrection. But no direct derivation can 1 This term, in accordance with a procedure dear to John, must be regarded as ambiguous. It is an allusion both to the nature of Christ's death and also to his return to heaven.

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be discerned. The religion of the worshippers of Attis, Adonis, or Osiris did not possess—or at any rate in only a very feeble degree— that element of love and affection which played such an important part in the Christian faith in its earliest stages and is inseparable from a previous attachment to a living person.1 The first germ of the idea of resurrection must be found in the thoughts of Jesus' disciples before their master's death. The faith which possessed their hearts after the crisis of the passion was not new but was transfigured and transposed. The gospels belittle the faith which the disciples had during Jesus' ministry and minimise their loyalty for their master. They were, no doubt, inspired to do this by their own judgement on their past. They made themselves out to have had a certain attachment to their master—they could hardly have done otherwise—but to have been completely blinded to the meaning of the teaching which he had tried to give them on the necessity of his death and resurrection. According to Luke (xxii. 24) when Jesus had just distributed the bread and the cup at the last supper, they disputed among themselves as to who was the greatest among them. They fell asleep at Gethsemane; at the time of the arrest after a timid show of resistance they scattered. They did not appear either at the trial of Jesus or at the time of his crucifixion. They were not there to bury him. Tradition even relates that Peter denied his master in the presence of the high-priest's servants. Even if, as I have tried to show,2 the episode is not historical, it is none the less significant. The motive behind this theme which was so amply developed in the tradition was not a spirit of defiance or hostility towards the disciples. It shows that primitive Christianity was so acutely conscious of the novelty of the faith in the celestial Kyrios that it became blind to the fundamental unity which existed between the faith of the disciples before and after the resurrection, who themselves gained the idea that their faith in the heavenly Christ had suddenly flashed into life the day after the passion. In reality there was more continuity in the thought of the disciples than they themselves perceived. If they had never really submitted to the ascendancy of Jesus and had not attached themselves to him, they would never have continued to follow him, 1

See p. 65, n. i. See my study 'Did Peter deny his Lord? A conjecture', Harv. theol. rev. 1932, XXV., pp. 1-27; Life of Jesus, pp. 485 ff. 2

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when the illusion of possible success had faded and they knew that if they remained faithful they must reckon their lives to be in jeopardy. Jesus perceived the prospect of his death from the beginning of the crisis in Galilee grow more definite and certain right up to the final drama but it never shook his conviction that he would be manifested in glory as the Messiah. It only made him change his ideas of how his manifestation as Messiah would come about. He thought it would be by a return on the clouds of heaven. After his death he would be exalted to heaven. From thence he would return to preside at the resurrection of the dead and establish the Kingdom of God. When we thus take into account what appears to have been the underlying character of Jesus' thought it is plain that the two ideas of victory over death and participation in celestial life were not absolutely novel. In any case they have their roots in his conviction that in spite of every setback the Kingdom of God will be realised. The belief in the resurrection of Jesus was not therefore ideologically an absolute novelty in primitive Christianity. After a momentary eclipse it was the restoration of the faith which his disciples had shown in him previously. 3.—THE PSYCHOLOGICAL CHARACTER OF THE RESURRECTION APPEARANCES

From an analysis of the tradition we can recognise at least in outline the conditions under which the belief in the resurrection appeared and grew. At the end of a period, the length of which cannot be determined, the disciples, after being disheartened by Jesus' death, regained their courage. What their master had told them about the meaning of his sufferings and death came back to mind and prepared the way for the resurrection of their faith. The realisation of the Kingdom of God ceased to be for them a dream which never could come true. They began to think of Jesus not as dead but as living. This gave rise to the idea that God allowed Jesus to return in order that he might realise his task as Messiah. Jesus first rose again in the heart of his disciples who had loved and believed in him. Renan1 spoke of 'the divine power of love* and 'the passion of a hallucinated woman which gave to the world a risen God*. Rather than speak of a miracle of love it would have been better to speak of a miracle of faith which prevented those who had for a few months 1

Renan, V. dej., Paris, 1863, p. 434. 74

DEVELOPMENT OF THE BELIEF

lived with tremendous expectations believing that they had been snatched away from them. Natura non facit saltus. This principle applies to the psychqlogical and moral domain as well. The belief in the resurrection had grown up in the heart of the disciples, before they could be conscious of it, proclaim and preach it. Their conviction that Jesus was alive in heaven and that they had seen him when he had judged good to show himself gave birth to the idea that the tomb was empty. This at first was simply a corollary of the belief in the resurrection. But gradually it became an independent idea, and as what Bergson has called 'the myth-making function of religion'1 came into play, stories sprung up telling how women came to the tomb on the morning of the third day and found it empty. The resurrection appearances which did nothing more than definitely establish belief in the resurrection and rendered men conscious of their belief can from the psychological point of view be divided into two classes. The initial appearance is in one class by itself, Peter's, in all probability.2 It belongs to a man whose faith and confidence in Jesus had been eclipsed and who was in no way conscious that the Lord was risen. The appearance of Christ to him created both the idea and the belief simultaneously. The other class consists of the remaining subsequent appearances which happened to men who were acquainted with the idea of Jesus' resurrection but had not given him their full loyalty, although they had not rejected and opposed him. Only of the appearance to Paul have we any knowledge. It is true that we do not know much but we know sufficient to give us a good idea of what happened. 4.—THE F U N C T I O N AND CHARACTER OF R E L I G I O U S VISIONS

Although the appearances of the risen Christ have certain peculiar characteristics, they are not isolated phenomena in religious history. Without entering into a general study of facts of this kind it will be useful to consider as specimens two cases of visions where the psychological mechanism can be easily discerned and light is 1

Bergson, Les deun Sources, pp. 207 ff.; Eng. trans., pp. 165 ff. Perhaps there was at first more than one vision since, although it appears most unlikely, it cannot be absolutely ruled out that men who did not know of other appearances may have experienced them quite independently of each other. 2

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thrown upon the factors determining the appearance to Paul and his conversion.1 They are the visions which caused the conversions of the Jew, Ratisbonne, and the Hindu, Sundar Singh.2 Marie-Alphonse was converted to Roman Catholicism on aoth January 1842 at Rome after a vision while contemplating the Virgin Mary. Up till then he was strongly attached to the religion of his fathers and had never forgiven one of his brothers for his conversion to Christianity fifteen years earlier. One of his Roman Catholic friends, Baron de Bussiere, kept on pressing him to do the same, but to his persistent demands he replied that born a Jew he would die a Jew. Yet he confessed that he used to visit the church of the Aracoeli where he experienced a mysterious emotion, an emotion which he said was purely religious without being in any way Christian. His friend had given him a medal of the Virgin which had been blessed and which he had promised he would always wear. He had also been given by him a copy of St. Bernard's prayer, 'Memorasse, o piassima mrgo\ He read and re-read it until he knew it by heart and was surprised to find himself repeating it mechanically. On the aoth January 1842 he went with Baron de Bussiere to the church St. Andrea della Frati where his friend left him for a moment to make some arrangements at the sacristry for a friend's funeral. Ten minutes later Baron de Bussiere rejoined Ratisbonne and found him on his knees in the chapel of St. Michel with his face bathed in tears and in such a state of emotion that he could not give any explanation of what had happened. When he had regained a little calm he explained that he had suddenly been thrown into indescribable mental confusion. The building seemed to disappear from sight. All the light was concentrated on one chapel alone, and there in the centre of the radiating light standing up on the altar was the Virgin Mary, tall and shining, with her face full of majesty and sweetness with the same likeness as shown on the medal. Ratisbonne related later that failing to sleep most of the previous night he seemed to see all the time a tall cross of a somewhat peculiar shape and could not get rid of this vision which obsessed him. A few hours later his eyes fell 1 For an interpretation of Paul's vision and his conversion by means of these visions see my book La foi a la r&., pp. 403 ff. The explanation propounded by me has been criticised by Guignebert, 'La conversion de Paul', Rev. hist. 1938, CLXXXII, pp. 7-23 (the article is reproduced in Le Christ, pp. 245 ff.). 8 To these two cases can be added according to evidence which, however, raises some doubts, the case of Edmond Scherer who received a vision of Christ on Christmas Day 1832, which did not change incredulity into faith but indifference into enthusiasm. See La foi a la res., pp. 405 ff.

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on the reverse side of the medal, which he did not remember to have looked at before; there he found the cross, the image of which had haunted him the whole night. Few visions are as transparent as this one. Even at the time when Ratisbonne said that he was resolved to die a Jew, he was unconsciously a divided soul. On the one side were those things of which he was conscious, the weight of his traditions, pride of race, and the prejudiced attitude to which his condemnation of his brother's conversion had tied him. On the other side below the surface of his consciousness were the forces pushing him towards Catholicism revealed in the emotions which he experienced in the church of Aracoeli, in the impression created by St. Bernard's prayer, in the obsession caused by the face of the Virgin on the medal, and in the impression unconsciously made upon him by the cross on the reverse side of the medal. The former repressed the latter. All this shows that we have here a man with a divided soul where the forces driving him towards conversion are in conflict with those striving to maintain the status quo. At first the latter preponderate but the adverse tendencies become all the stronger by being repressed in the unconsciousness. A time comes when they have gathered sufficient power to overcome those which had been repressing them. The old equilibrium is shown to be destroyed by a vision which expresses and justifies simultaneously the new position now realised. Another vision which must be similarly interpreted is that which made Sundar Singh, who was then fifteen years old, a convinced Christian on iyth December 1904. He belonged to a family who were ardent and practising Sikhs,1 and up till that time he was violently hostile to Christianity with which he was acquainted through having attended an American mission school. Several times he had burnt or torn up copies of the Bible and had thrown stones and dirt at the missionaries, as evildoers who had come to corrupt everything. He thought of writing a book against Christianity. At the same time—and this was doubtless why his opposition to Christianity took such a violent form—the Bible possessed a secret attraction for him so that he could not stop himself from reading it. It promised peace and rest in mind to those who are tired and heavy-laden (Matt. xi. 28 f.) which was exactly what he was looking for, but he was indignant that a foreign religion could promise him peace, while Hinduism, which he was determined was the finest religion in the 1 A Hindoo Mahommedan sect. 77

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world, was unable to give it him. He read that God so loved the world that he had given his only-begotten son that all who believe on Him should not perish but have everlasting life (John iii. 16) and he was angry that Christ who could not save himself claimed to save others. On i6th December 1904 this internal conflict ended in an explosion of rage in the course of which he solemnly burnt the Bible which promised peace and only destroyed his own. The next morning, in the last stage of despair and thinking that as there was no peace in this world he might perhaps find it in the next, he resolved to kill himself by throwing himself under a train which passed near his house at 5 a.m. At 3 a.m., in accordance with Sikh custom, he took a cold ritual bath. Afterwards he emphasised this detail, which made it difficult to think that he was half asleep when what followed took place. After his bath he began to pray, 'O God, if there is a God, show me the true path. I want to be a sadhou (i.e. a saint). If I cannot I am going to kill myself.' About 4.30 a.m. a great light filled the room where he was praying. He thought at first that a fire had started but found out that it was nothing. Turning again to prayer he saw in a luminous mist the visage of a man completely bathed in love. Thinking that it was Bhudda or some other Indian god he was preparing to prostrate himself before the apparition and worship, when he heard these words in Hindustani: 'Why do you persecute me? Reflect that I gave my life for you on the cross.' At first he did not understand: then on the form before him he saw the scars of the Jesus of Nazareth whom he had so violently detested. On his face he read nothing but gentleness and love. Instantly he was changed. 'The Christ', he afterwards said, 'penetrated me like a stream from God; joy and peace filled my soul.' When Sundar Singh got up Christ had disappeared but the wonderful peace remained without ever leaving him. What happened on iyth December 1904 was for him a miracle in the exact sense of the word, a direct and personal intervention of Christ. Sixteen years later he said this: 'I did not imagine what I saw. Until then I hated Jesus and did not pray to him. If it had been the Bhudda I would have said that it was the result of my imagination through my being accustomed to call upon him. No, it was not a dream; you do not dream when you have just had a cold bath. It was a reality, the living Christ.' Sundar Singh had other visions in the course of his life after conversion. He never, however, equated them with the vision at his conversion when he saw Christ with his bodily eyes, while on other occasions he only contemplated him in ecstasy.1 1 Streeter and Appasamy, The Sadhu, London, 1921, pp. 5 f.

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Three factors go to determine the most satisfactory interpretation to be given to this vision, (i) the restless state of a man who does not find an interior peace of mind for which he longs, (2) an acquaintance with Christianity, which makes him the victim of an internal conflict of motives, being on the one hand attracted to Christianity because it promises him peace and at the same time opposed to it by an instinctive loyalty to his native traditions and a racial pride, which refuses to recognise the value of what is not purely Hindu, (3) an acquaintance with the story of Paul and his conversion. The conflict between the opposing forces lasted a long time. The moment of crisis was marked by an intense internal agitation, by acts of violence, and ideas of suicide. Suddenly calm came: peace followed anguish and the crisis ended by conversion to Christianity. A conversion which does not originate from a state of indifference but from one of declared hostility is bound to be sudden.1 The agitated emotional condition of a person whose whole mental life has been thrown into doubt and confusion is eminently favourable for the emergence of visions, which from a psychological point of view are only external projections in a concrete form of the motives of conversion. The person is unable to find the reasons for what has happened to him and is therefore compelled to give himself some explanation. The greater the obstacles to a change of mind seem to him, the more necessary it is for the motives leading to change to be thought of as irresistible. In the Sadhu's case conversion implied the recognition of the truth of traditional Christian statements about Christ which depended upon the affirmation of his resurrection. It was natural therefore that it should have taken the form of an appearance of the living Christ. Besides this the fact that he knew of the story of Paul's conversion went a long way to determine beforehand, if one may say so, the form that his conversion was eventually to take. Because Christianity satisfied the Sadhu's deepest religious aspirations he felt it was true; because it was true, he was certain that Christ was really living. But the true sequence was reversed in the way in which things appeared to him to have happened. The result of his experience, i.e. the certitude that Christ was really living, he saw as its cause. 1

What is meant by this is that its appearance not its formation is sudden. Every conversion is the end of a psychological process which naturally may be long or short in duration. In certain cases this process works out on the level of consciousness, in others in the region of the subliminal,1

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Sundar Singh made a clear distinction between His initial vision and the ensuing ecstasies which came to him, because anyone, who lives through a conversion in retrospect, cannot confuse the revelations of a heavenly being in whom he believes, which are granted to him in the subsequent course of his life, with the action by which this being, previously unknown or repulsed by him, won his heart and gained possession of him. The coincidence between Sadhu and Paul, who also made a clear distinction between the vision on the road to Damascus and subsequent Visions and revelations from the Lord* is too striking to be fortuitous: it is the result of what is common to both conversions.1 'The visionary', wrote Edward B. Tylor, 'turns in a vicious circle: what he believes he therefore sees and what he sees he therefore believes.'2 This summary conclusion does not go to the bottom of things. The faith which brings forth visions and the faith which conversely is created or strengthened by visions are two different phenomena. The former springs from the depths of the unconscious where it has come into activity for reasons which can only partly be discerned. The faith which the vision creates or strengthens is conscious and is expressed in an intellectual formula. Rather than a vicious circle it should be called an ascending line along which faith passes from the region of the unconscious to that of the conscious. In those conversions which we call slow or progressive this passage is made insensibly. The subject himself cannot notice it. Many people while they would agree that their religious position has changed would be unable to say when precisely their conversion had occurred. But, when a faith is born in the depths of the subliminal self and clashes with opposing forces strong enough to keep it temporarily in check, its passage to the level of consciousness is only made when it has already acquired a certain intensity. Then it is not a progressive ascension but an explosion which breaks all resistance and the resulting disturbance is eminently favourable to the presence of visions. Those visions which often play an important part in the appearance of new religions present striking analogies with those phenomena 1 A complete study of religious visions would have to include two further facts: (i) the contagious nature of visions, and (2) collective visions, e.g. the visions of Notre Dame de Salette which came to the young shepherd girl, Melanie Calvat, aged fourteen and a half, and her little companion, Maximin, beginning on igth September 1846, and those which occurred in 1931, at Ezquioga, in the Basque country, a strong Catholic district, where the anti-clerical movement let loose by the revolution in Spain was creating disturbance and anxiety. 8 Edward B. Tylor, Primitive Culture*, London, 1903, II, p. 45.

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the pathological character of which is indisputable, being the result of a real mental break-down. Yet, as Bergson has shown,1 the two phenomena must not be confused. Both of them are the outcome of a psychological disturbance and a weakening of the functions of synthesis and control. But this disturbed condition can be due to very different causes. It may be due to a disease in the personality caused by some mental defect or some nervous lesion. Then it is constitutional and lasting.2 But it may be caused by some intense sentiment, emotion, or spiritual energy in some other form. Then it is only provisional and functional; normal mental balance is more or less quickly restored. It became disturbed because certain psychological elements were enfeebled while others were intensified. It is like the balance of scales which may be disturbed because something has been added to one of the pans or something has been taken away. The activity of visionaries who are mentally ill or defective must be disordered or can only be on a reduced scale. But on the other hand, those who enjoy visions through being spiritually elated in some way or other may be creative in the realm of thought or action. From their vision they find their personality enriched and strengthened. Applying this criterion to the resurrection appearances we find that they do not belong to that class of visions which are pathological, unless we intend to class as pathological everything in mental and spiritual activity which stretches beyond the level of what is habitual and normal. 5.—THE PSYCHOLOGICAL MECHANISM OF THE APPEARANCE TO PAUL

In the light of the preceding observations we can now consider what happened in the vision of the risen Christ which turned Paul the persecutor into an apostle.3 After the belief in the resurrection had come into existence and Paul had come into contact with Christianity4 he considered the 1

Bergson, Les deux sources, pp. 243 ff., Eng. Trans., pp. 195 ff. It may also be the result of a temporary prehypnotic state such as might be due to the action of certain poisons, e.g. opium, cocaine, hashish, etc. 3 For certain questions concerning Paul's conversion which I am here obliged to pass over quickly, see Introd. IV. I, pp. 195 ff. 4 Contrary to the opinion of quite a number of critics we shall see (pp. 462 ff.) that the reasons for questioning that Paul came into contact with the new faith at Jerusalem are insufficient. 2

6

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disciples of Jesus to be blasphemers, because they claimed that an individual, who quite clearly was under God's curse, as it is written in Deuteronomy, 'Cursed is everyone that hangeth on a tree* (xxi. 23 quoted in Gal. iii. 13), was a messenger from God. Paul persecuted the church because there was a danger that the blasphemy of which it had made itself guilty would bring down the divine wrath on those who tolerated it as well as on those who uttered it. He must then have been aware of the essence of Christianity. He knew that they declared that Jesus after his death had gained a striking revenge, and that several people, nay, even many of the disciples, had seen him alive again, so that they were now able to wait for his glorious return on the clouds of heaven. Paul must also have known something of the teaching of Jesus and possibly some of the sayings of Jesus which he was reported to have said, such as that part of the Sermon on the Mount concerning obedience to the Law of God (Matt. v. 17 ff.), had penetrated deeply into his consciousness. But the principle of Deuteronomy, which made him judge Jesus accursed, held such absolute sway with him that even that strain in the Gospel, which was capable of satisfying his deepest aspirations, could not influence his conscious thoughts. Paul attributed his conversion to an act of God, which with irresistible power revealed his Son to him, nay, it might be said thrust him upon him (Gal. i. 1-12, 16). This revelation took the form of an appearance of Christ (i Cor. xv. 8; cf. ix. i). By showing himself to Paul Christ took possession of him (Phil. iii. 12; cf. i Cor. ix. 17); as a result his whole life and thought were changed completely and his scale of values was reversed. It is easy to follow the course of Paul's thought from the time when his consciousness was suddenly seized with the complete assurance that Jesus was living. God had not only done something extraordinary for Jesus crucified by restoring him to life; he had also anticipated for Jesus the resurrection on the last day and had given him from now on life in heaven, i.e. life in the world to come. Therefore, Paul argued, the disciples were right in saying that Jesus was Messiah of God. The two propositions, 'Jesus is Lord', and 'Jesus is accursed', Paul considered to be equally true. He harmonised them or rather made them dependent on each other by the idea that Christ, to make salvation possible, accepted a complete identification with the whole of humanity and so could take upon himself in his own flesh all the sins of mankind and expiate them by submitting himself to punishment. 82

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The relationship which Paul envisaged between his vision of the risen Christ and his conviction that Jesus was living must be reversed. His vision did not create but revealed a conviction which already existed. The whole problem of the appearance to Paul and his conversion centres round the formation of this conviction. Some people1 suggest that an external factor such as a mirage, an attack of fever, a hallucination caused by fatigue, heat, hunger, or some ocular affection caused his vision. These explanations are radically insufficient, although it may be admitted that Paul's temperament predisposed him to ecstatic phenomena. But even if it could be established beyond the realm of conjecture that some external circumstance let loose the crisis on the road to Damascus, it would not explain it. It would be the match which set fire to the powder not the cause of the explosion. If anything explains the appearance of Christ to Paul and his conversion it can only be his interior life. Many Protestant interpreters2 ignore the diversity of forms in which conversion can be clothed and are more or less consciously dominated by the idea that Luther's conversion affords the most suitable guide for interpreting others. With Luther's conversion in mind they suppose that Paul for weeks or months preceding the vision had been passing through a crisis which must be recognised as due to two causes, (i) Paul was attracted by the Church's teaching and impressed by Stephen's attitude before his death. That was the goad against which he tried to kick by persecuting the faithful (Acts xxvi. 14). (2) He needed a rule which was absolute and found the righteousness of the law insufficient because he yearned after such righteousness as would be proof against failure to obey even one solitary commandment of the law. Neither of these ideas can hold water. For one thing when Paul is speaking of his activity as a persecutor, he certainly regrets and condemns it but he never expresses the least remorse but rather boasts of it. This shows that he fully believed that he had acted in accordance with his convictions. As for the idea that his conversion was the outcome of a moral 1

e.g. Renan, Les ApStres, Paris, 1866, p. 179. e.g. Weizsaecker, Das apostolische Zeitalter2, Freiburg in Brisgau, 1892, p. 72; Weiner, Paulusy Tubingen, 1904, pp. 54 ff. and Bibl. T/z.,3, p. 416; Deissmann, Paulus, Tubingen, 1911, p. 83. It has been disputed by Wrede, Paulus, Halle, 1905, pp. 8 f.; Loisy, 'La conversion de saint Paul et la naissance du christianisme', R.h.l.r.t N.S., 1914, V, p. 309; 'La carriere de Tapotre Paul', R.h.l.r.y N.S., 1920, VI, pp. 451 ff.; Bousset, Kyrios Christos2, p. 106; Heitmuller, 'Die Bekehrung des Paulus', ZJ.Th.u.K., 1917, XVII, pp. 145-7. 2

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struggle,1 the principal evidence for it comes from the epistle to the Romans (vii. 7 ff.), which is the classic expression of the anguish of a soul which yearns for an ideal it has not yet realised. Further on2 we shall see that the moral struggle through which there is no doubt Paul passed at the beginning of his Christian life was not the cause but a result of his conversion. But in any case the passage in the epistle to the Philippians (iii. 6), where Paul maintains that he was beyond reproach before his conversion as far as righteousness of the law was concerned,3 compels us to dismiss from our minds the idea that his conversion was the outcome of a moral struggle. When Paul had become a Christian and because he had become one, his opinion concerning man's capacity to keep the Law of God was quite different from what he thought previously. Besides, if Paul had considered his conversion to be as Luther did, the recognition or discovery of a truth for which he had been painfully groping, he would in referring to it have expressed feelings of deliverance. Instead he always says that it is a constraint" to which he has submitted and that it has thrown him out of the track which previously he had been convinced was the path to salvation (Phil, iii. 12).* At. first sight we do not perceive what link there can be between Paul's new estimate of man's capacity to obey the Law of God and his mystical experience on the road to Damascus. All becomes clear, if we remember that Jesus had already submitted the conception of obedience to the Law, i.e. to the will of God to a comparable transformation, when he substituted for the negative prohibitions of the commandments given to them of old time his 'But I say unto you' and his commandment, 'Be ye perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect' (Matt. v. 22 ff.) and placed the ethic of intention against that of the act.5 Such a revolution in thought cannot have happened twice independently with only a few years between. A change in Paul's attitude following his conversion was determined by the new 1

Besides Weizsaecker, Weinel and Deissmann, mentioned in the preceding footnote, the idea of a moral crisis is adhered to by Sabatier, L'apdtre Paul*, Paris, 1896, pp. 37 ff.; Fulliquet, La pensee religieuse du Nouveau Testament, Paris, 1893, p. 292; Julicher, Einleitung in das Neue Testament7, Tubingen, 1931, pp. 34 f. * See pp. 213 f. » On this text see my study KATA TEN AIKAIOZYNHN THN EN NOMQ FENOMENOS AMEMIIT02 (Phil. iii. 6); 'Remarques sur un aspect de la conversion de Paul', Journal of Biblical Literature, 1934, LIII, pp. 257-67. 4 The meaning of the term Ijcrpta/ia in i Cor. xv. 8, must be underlined. See p. 42, n. i. 6 See my V. de J., pp. 537 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 553 ff.

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ethical conception proclaimed by Jesus. This reveals one factor in Paul's conversion: his acquaintance with the sayings and teaching of Jesus exercised an unconscious influence against which his whole religious position cried out. But immediately on his conversion it became predominant and played a part in his thought's development, the importance of which has often been ignored. While Paul's conversion was not preceded by any crisis of which he was aware, there had gone on in preparation for it intense activity in his subliminal self. There the affirmations of Christians concerning their master's resurrection and their expectation of his return on the one hand and on the other the new ethical ideal preached by Jesus had been secretly working upwards gathering strength while on the level of consciousness they were repressed by the statement of the law concerning a curse belonging to the cross and by loyalty to the traditional forms of Judaism. As in the case of Ratisbonne and that of Sundar Singh, a moment came when the activity in the unconscious gained such strength that in the end it triumphed over every obstacle and found a positive conclusion. It then burst forth in the field of consciousness and became objectified in a vision which the apostle judged to be the direct presence of Christ himself. Trying to account for what had happened to him he considered that Christ had personally intervened in his life and had caused his conversion. The first appearances were different in character, because they happened to men who had been attached to Jesus but had never thought of his returning to life. Nevertheless, as far as one can judge in the absence of any direct documentary evidence, the vision's mechanism appears to have been the same. Before there was any belief that he would appear posthumously there existed the conviction that Christ was alive in heaven. This explains the visions. As for the belief that Christ was alive in heaven, it was only the reappearance of convictions which had developed while as disciples they had lived with their master. The dark hours of the passion had repressed them without completely robbing their hearts of them. When they had returned to Galilee and had recovered themselves, their old convictions came alive again. But they could not subsist in their previous form. As long as Jesus was alive they could expect that he would manifest himself as the Messiah in glory. After his death faith in him could only last or be reborn if he had triumphed over death and so could be regarded as a living person. Faith in the heavenly Christ not only extended the hopes which the disciples had placed in Jesus; it exalted and adapted them to the

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changed circumstances which seemed at first to have brought them grievous disappointment. This explains the presence of a conviction which did not develop slowly and calmly but showed itself with such intensity that it assumed the explosive form of a vision. For this reason, as soon as this faith began to spread, a veritable epidemic of visions occurred of which there is no doubt the stories preserved to us give only a dim picture. It is certain that very quickly afterwards they became rare and stopped altogether. Paul felt that he enjoyed the last of them. Things were then stabilised; the belief in the resurrection assumed a different character. It ceased to express a mystical experience and took on the aspect of an affirmation of fact which was to be turned into a dogma.

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PART TWO

The Failure of Christianity to Develop in the Framework of Judaism

CHAPTER I

The Church at Jerusalem up to A.D. 44 SOON after Jesus' death, at the end of a few days or at most a few weeks, the belief in his resurrection and glorification was firmly held by his disciples. Thus a new religion was set up but if it was to last various conditions had to be fulfilled which did not exist at first. First, the new faith had to become aggressive, and to do that had to extend beyond the narrow confines of the little group among whom it had originated. Secondly, it had to define its position, especially in respect of the Jewish faith, which those who considered Jesus to be the Messiah sitting on the right hand of God had no idea of repudiating. I.—THE CHURCH AT JERUSALEM ACCORDING TO THE COMPILER OF ACTS

The process by which both these conditions were realised began at Jerusalem. The book of Acts is our only source of information concerning the very early history of Christianity at Jerusalem. Although the compiler of this book only wrote as late as between 80 and 90 he had excellent sources of information. In particular he made use of a written source1 containing missionary sermons which in the opening chapters he put into the mouth of Peter.2 Besides this he had nothing else concerning the very early history of the church at Jerusalem except various traditions of a somewhat legendary character and some more prosaic notes describing the life of the first Christians. But he does not seem always to have understood 1 If it had been an oral source it would have conformed to the postpauline thought which was current in the period when Acts was compiled. But this is not the case. * It is impossible to decide if they were his actual speeches. The question is without interest. The important thing is that they express a very primitive form of thought.

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them very clearly as, e.g. concerning the community of goods, which held sway among the disciples. What is more serious, he naively projected into his description of the early church in Jerusalem a representation of it as it existed in his own time as well as personal memories of his own concerning Greek Christianity in the Pauline communities. To extract from his story reliable information concerning the first Christians a very close criticism is therefore needed. We must begin by recollecting the professed purpose of this history. It proposed to show how by the action of the Spirit the gospel was carried from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. But this design was only partly realised, partly because his sources proved insufficient and partly because he never became their real master.1 Chapter ii provides the key to the whole story, where it is narrated how, on the day of Pentecost, the promise of the Holy Spirit made by Jesus to his disciples was fulfilled, and how the disciples by the action of this Spirit were given power to be witnesses to their master. The day of Pentecost was the real birthday of the Church, because on that day it became a missionary body. At the first effort by the preaching of Peter 3,000 persons were converted. The Twelve did not have a monopoly of the Spirit, but possessed the privilege of being able to confer it by the imposition of hands.2 The compiler of Acts considered that the apostles retained all power because they were both guardians of the Spirit and by their witness maintained the tradition which had brought the church into being. While some stories3 appear to suggest that the assembly of the faithful possessed a right of decision, the power of initiative belonged to the Twelve whose mouthpiece was Peter.4 The work of conquest begun on the day of Pentecost is followed by the healing of an impotent man performed by Peter and John. The impression produced by this miracle and the explanation given 1

Perhaps also because he intended to write a third volume, a project which he wassunable to realise. Concerning this see the characteristic story of the Samaritans converted and baptised by Philip, one of the Seven, but they did not receive the Holy Spirit until Peter and John came from Jerusalem and laid their hands upon them (viii. 14-25). 8 The story of the election of Matthias as an apostle in place of Judas (i. 15-26) and that of the institution of the ministry of the Seven (vi. 1-6) (see E.P., pp. 86 ff.). 4 Besides apostles in two passages (xi. 30 and xv. 2 and passim in this chapter also) mention is made of elders or presbyters. They are also named in xxi. 18 besides James. Their function cannot be denned and it must be supposed that here is a projection into the past of the function played by the college of presbyters in the churches at the end of the first century. 90

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by Peter mark a new step forward: 5,000 persons were added to the church on this occasion. But at the same time difficulties began. The sensation caused by the healing awoke the attention of the authorities.1 Peter and John were arrested and the next day were brought before the Sanhedrin. Not till then was it known that they had been with Jesus.2 Their boldness made an impression on the tribunal, which only forbade them to speak in the name of Jesus before releasing them. Peter replied to this that one must obey God rather than men and that they could only speak of what they had seen and heard. In spite of this outburst they were freed and rejoined their companions with whom they prayed to God for courage to withstand the threats against them. While they prayed, the place where they were shook; they were all filled with the holy Spirit and preached the word of God with boldness (iii. 1-4, 31). The life of the church went on without hindrance for a period the length of which the story in Acts does not allow us to determine. Suddenly, without any explanation, the high priest Annas3 caused the apostles to be arrested and put in prison. They were brought before the Sanhedrin,4 who on the advice of one of their members, Gamaliel, did not take extreme measures against them but only caused them to be whipped and again forbade them to speak in the name of Jesus. They took no notice of this prohibition (v. 17-42). The hostility of the Jewish authorities, even if it was as active as the compiler of Acts makes it out to have been, did not hinder the 1 It is surprising that the attention of the authorities had not been attracted to them by the events of Pentecost. It is a proof that in the earliest tradition the healing of the impotent man was the first appearance of the new faith outside the circle among whom it originated. This is confirmed by the pouring out of the Spirit at the end of the incident which is an earlier doublet of the story of Pentecost. 2 This feature is also hard to reconcile with the story of Pentecost. 8 All the manuscripts have Avaaras 8c 6 apxiepcvs (The high priest getting up) and the versions give this reading also, with the exception of one manuscript alone, b. of the old Latin version, Samuel Berger, Un ancien texte latin des Actes des Apdtres retrouve* dans un manuscrit provenant de Perpignan, Notices et extraits des manuscrits, t. XXXV, Ire partie) Paris, 1895, p. 194, which has 'Annas the high priest'. This is no doubt the primitive text, as Blass admits (in his edition of Acts secundum formam quae videtur Romanam, Leipzig, 1896). The high priest then in office was Caiaphas. Annas, his father-in-law and predecessor, had been deposed in 15. The same mistake is made in Acts iv. 6. In Luke iii. 2 Annas and Caiaphas are given as being high priests at the same time which is quite impossible. 4 At this point (v. 21-26) is placed an incident of a miraculous deliverance. In the morning the apostles were no longer in prison but at liberty preaching in the temple. The Sanhedrin had them brought before them without violence because of their popularity. This is an embellishment on the tradition, made by the compiler of Acts who, it must be supposed, makes the Jewish authorities hostile to Christianity but not the people.

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expansion of the church but its very growth created a difficulty and to overcome it measures had to be devised. For the first time mention is made of the existence of two groups within the church, the Hebrews and the Hellenists. The compiler appears to have thought that they only differed in the language which they used; the former group had never left Palestine and so spoke Hebrew or Aramaic, while the latter spoke Greek because either they or their parents belonged to the dispersion. Friction occurred between the two groups: the Hellenists complained that their widows fared worse than the others in the distributions which were made daily to those members of the church who were in need. Peter proposed, to satisfy them, that, as the apostles had too much to do to be able to give their attention to charitable distributions, seven men should be appointed for this purpose. This suggestion was accepted: seven men, all bearing Greek names, were nominated and the apostles laid their hands on them (vi. 1-6). The compiler read into this incident the institution of the diaconate as it existed towards the end of the first century, but all we know of the seven shows that they were the leaders and preachers of the Hellenist group, while the Twelve were of the Hebrew group. This is particularly plain from what is told of one of them, Stephen, whose preaching provoked violent opposition from the Hellenistic Jews. Stephen was accused of blasphemy and stoned after a more or less regular trial. His death was followed by a persecution which the author of Acts says extended over the whole church so that everyone was forced to scatter except the apostles, who remained at Jerusalem (vi. 7-8, 3). In actual fact only the Hellenists1 were subject to persecution; they were compelled to leave the city and become evangelists. Two detailed stories follow telling of the activity of one of them, Philip (viii. 4-40) and of the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, who had been one of the most active agents of persecution (ix. 1-30). The author then comes back to the church in Jerusalem and states that it enjoyed peace and walked in the fear of the Lord (ix. 31). Following this comes a series of stories about Peter's mission. Two miracles are attributed to him, the healing of an impotent man at Lydda (ix. 32-35), and the resurrection to life of a woman, Tabitha-Dorcas, at Joppa (ix. 36-43).2 Then comes the story of Cornelius (x. i-ii, 18). 1

Guigenbert, Le Christ, p. 128. These stories offer striking analogies, the first with the healing of the impotent man at the gate of the temple, the second with the resurrection of Jairus* daughter by Jesus. 1

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A centurion of Caesarea, who 'feared God', i.e. a man who was drawn towards Judaism, received through a vision an order to summon to his house Peter who was at Joppa. Peter also received an order in the same way to comply with this invitation. In spite of his Jewish scruples he went to the Gentile's house and preached the Gospel to those he found there assembled. As the holy Spirit fell on them while he was speaking, his remaining scruples were destroyed and he commanded them to be baptised. On his return to Jerusalem Peter became an object of criticism to certain members of the church belonging to the 'party of the circumcision',1 because he had entered the house of a Gentile. He defended himself by recounting what had happened and the whole assembly gave glory to God for granting to Gentiles repentance unto life. The author of Acts attached capital importance to this story.4 He considered that it explained and justified the preaching of the gospel to the Gentiles and that it attributed to the leader of the Twelve an initiative heavy with consequences although, as we shall see,3 when others followed his example they met with lively opposition from part of the church in Jerusalem and some of its leaders.4 The story is important because it throws light on one of the essential characteristics belonging to the conception which ruled the mind of the compiler of Acts, namely, the idea all the power of initiative in matters of importance to the church's life belonged to the church at Jerusalem, especially to the group of the Twelve who governed it.5 The story of the persecution ordered by Herod Agrippa I in the spring of 446 is the last fact of immediate concern to the church at Jerusalem to be reported in the Book of Acts.7 It is placed in the 1

Further on I shall try to determine the sense and meaning of this expression. This is shown by the fact that all the elements of the story are repeated twice 8 by a clever arrangement. See pp. 177 ff. 4 One reason sufficient in itself for doubting the historicity of this incident is that the personality of the centurion seems to have been moulded on that of the centurion at Capernaum (Matt. viii. 5 f.; Luke vii. 2 ff.); Meyer (Urpsrung u. Auf. Ill, pp. 141 f. Cf. Grundmann, 'Die Apostel zwischen Jerusalem und Antiochien', Z.N.T.W., 1940, XXXIX, p. 129) remarks that the note in X. i saying that the centurion Cornelius belonged to the Italian cohort cannot be historical, as this cohort could not between 41 and 44 have been stationed at Caesarea which at that time belonged to the kingdom of Agrippa I. 5 Another example of this can be found in the story of the foundation of the church at Antioch (xi. 19-26). This story is post-dated and transposed by making Barnabas, who appears to have been one of this church's founders, a delegate from the church at Jerusalem to that at Antioch when Jerusalem had learnt of its foundation. * See pp. 465 ff. concerning this persecution. 7 There is of course also the story of the conference at Jerusalem in chapter xv but it is post-dated and also refers not so much to the church at Jerusalem as to 1

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middle of a story of a journey made by Barnabas and Saul to Jerusalem to bring assistance following a prediction of famine which prophets from Jerusalem who had come to Antioch made there (xi. 27-30 and xii. 24-25). After a bare mention of the martyrdom of the apostle James, son of Zebedee, most of the narrative is devoted to Peter's imprisonment and his miraculous deliverance. After he came out of prison he went to the house of Mary, mother of John Mark, where he found the brethren assembled praying for his deliverance. Then he left Jerusalem; he seems never to have returned (xii. 1-23). Before departing Peter ordered those whom he found at Mary's house to tell of his deliverance to 'James and the brethren'. As James is singled out by name he must have been from this time onwards a particularly important person in the church. This is very surprising as he is not previously mentioned.1 In what follows James appears as the principal person and real leader of the church at Jerusalem. Not only the story of Acts but also the epistle to the Galatians show that he played an important part at the conference of 43-44. We must now examine the material used by the author of Acts to express his own idea of the history of the church at Jerusalem. The first stages of the church's development are marked by the story of Pentecost and that of the healing of the impotent man. Originally they were parallel and not successive to each other. Their character shows that the church had no clear remembrance of the way in which the new faith emerged out of the group among whom it originated. We must therefore presume that it must have happened by easy imperceptible stages without attracting attention. This hypothesis is strongly supported by an allusion in the incident of the healing of the impotent man to an enquiry by the Jewish authorities, after they discovered that those who had been with Jesus were devoting themselves to missionary activity. In spite of this their activity must not have seemed very dangerous since, except for the brief squall raised by Herod Agrippa's persecution, they were deft undisturbed. Did the missionary activity of the Twelve extend beyond Jerusalem? It is impossible to say. The evangelisation of Samaria was the work of a Hellenist and what is told of Peter's missionary activity lacks consistency. One thing only can be retained as certain: its relations with the Gentile Christian churches. I shall come back to this story later on. See pp. 298 ff. 1 For further details see E.P., pp. 86 ff.

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Peter was remembered as a missionary.1 But we have no means of determining whether his missionary activity preceded or followed his departure from Jerusalem.2 2.—WAS THE CHRISTIANITY OF THE JERUSALEM CHURCH PNEUMATICK IN CHARACTER?

While the incident of the healing of the impotent man may be a piece of genuine history, the same cannot be said of the story of Pentecost. We have only to recall its main outline. While the Twelve3 were reunited in one place which is not specified but may be the upper room, a mighty wind was heard. Tongues of fire alighted on the head of each of them; they were filled with the holy Spirit and began to speak in foreign tongues to the great surprise of those Jews who had come to keep the feast from all parts of the diaspora. But some maintained that the apostles were the worse for drink (ii. 1-13). It is plain that the author wished to tell of an outburst of glossolalia4 but had never met with this phenomenon in his own experience. It was not then current in his own time. The compiler only knew that it had played a big part in the church's past history but the traditions in his possession referring to it belonged to Greek Christianity. He failed to take into account the differences between this form of Christianity and that at Jerusalem and so introduced phenomena belonging to the former into his picture of the life of the church at Jerusalem. He was also compelled to form his own idea of what glossolalia were from the word itself. He understood it to be the power to express oneself in an idiom acquired by some extraordinary 1

The Pauline epistles also show this. See i Cor. ix. 5. Guignebert, Le Christy p. 124, thinks that if Peter ever preached outside Jerusalem, it could only have been after the dispersion of 44. 3 The text does not say precisely 'the Twelve*. The subject of the first sentence is 'all* but the next sentence shows that in all probability it means the apostles. 4 Glossolalia is the language of ecstasy which is often inarticulate and sometimes appears at times of exaltation and religious excitement. Concerning glossolalia in general see Flournoy, Des Indes d la planete. Mars. Etude sur un cos de somnambulisme avec glossolalie*, Paris, Geneva, 1900; Lombard, Essai d'une classification des pMnomenes de glossolalie. Archives de psychologic, VII, 1907. De la glossolalie chez les premiers Chretiens et des phenomenes similaires, Lausanne, Paris, 1910; Mosiman, Das Zungenreden geschichtlich und psychologisch untersucht. Tubingen, 1911; H. Rust, Das Zungenreden. Eine Studie zur kritischen Religionspsychologie, 1924. Besides the story of Pentecost there is also a question of glossolalia in two further passages of Acts (viii. 17 and xi. 44-46) which both fit in with the compiler's theory and belong to incidents of more than doubtful historicity. There is perhaps also an allusion to glossolalia in viii. 17. 2

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means. We are therefore in the presence of a story which has been quite artificially constructed. It is not even possible to infer from it that the church at Jerusalem was acquainted with the phenomena of glossolalia. It is a matter of prime importance to know if Palestinian Christianity was acquainted with glossolalia and pneumatism in general. These facts played such a considerable part in Greek Christianity, especially in Paul's. Their appearance gave believers the feeling that they were being invaded and possessed by a power, which was not their own but belonged to the holy Spirit, directing their words and acts.1 What is to be said of the appearances of the risen Christ, which belong to the beginning of Christianity at Jerusalem and must certainly be classified as phenomena of pneumatism, since they are a symptom of the excitement belonging to a new faith? Do they by themselves give Palestinian Christianity a pneumatick character?2 We noted in the last chapter3 that the first Christians, in particular Paul, made a very sharp distinction between the appearances of the risen Christ and ecstatic visions by attributing to the former an objectivity not to be found in the latter. While it is true that in the case of the apostle Paul, which is the only one we can follow in detail, an initial appearance gave rise to the phenomena of pneumatism, as is shown by the interpretation Paul put upon them, we have no right to generalise from this one case. For between Pauline Christianity and that at Jerusalem there was this one essential difference. Paul regarded the new faith as cut off from the cultural framework of Judaism, while Christians in Jerusalem felt it to be enshrined in the old framework so that they were not nearly so conscious of the novelty of the Gospel. Furthermore this feeling grew weaker as ensuing conversions made Jewish influences and Judaisers stronger. We are therefore led to the conclusion that while the resurrection appearances constituted phenomena pneumatick in character which gave birth to Christianity in Jerusalem, they lasted only for a limited period and do not prove that this characteristic 1

Concerning this question see my article 'La conception j6rusal&nite de rfiglise et les phe'nome'nes de pneumatisme', in Melanges Franz Cumont, Brussels, 1936, pp. 209-23; K. Kundsin, Das Urcknstentum im Lichte der Evangelienforschung, Giessen, 1929, p. 31, had remarked already that pneumatism was a feature of Greek Christianity. 2 Light was thrown on the organic relationship between the appearances of Christ and pneumatism particularly by Wellhausen, 'Kritische Analyse der Apostel8 geschichte', A.G., 1914, p. 6. See p. 43.

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persisted. Only by examining the stories in Acts which refer to or appear to refer to pneumatick phenomena can we hope to arrive at more precise conclusions. We cannot help but be struck by the artificial nature of the theory put forward by the author of Acts concerning the relationship between the Spirit and apostleship. It is exactly the reverse of the oldest which is that held by St. Paul. It can only be briefly described here.1 The compiler of Acts considers the pouring forth of the Spirit to be a result of apostleship. Paul considers it to precede apostleship. Apostleship for him is a charisma which God has established in the church (i Cor. xii. 28). Compared with Paul's conception that of the book of the Acts shows a perceptible narrowing down. In the latter possession of the Spirit is a privilege for a small number, while for Paul it is a general possession since, 'if any man has not the Spirit of Christ he is none of his' (Rom. viii. 9). It is clear that the book of the Acts does not attach such importance to the Spirit and apostleship as Paul does; to explain this we must suppose that it was written at a time when the phenomena of pneumatism were dying out, if they had not died out already, and when the idea of a charisma is no longer understood in its primitive sense. The second story of the outpouring of the Spirit on the apostles (iv. 23-31), although it is more primitive than the one in chapter ii, shows a curious deviation in the conception of the charismatic gift of evangelism. The Spirit no longer speaks by the apostles or lends a persuasive power to what they say but, what is very different, only inspires them with courage to speak in the face of threats. As for miracles of healing, if we put on one side the stories referring to Peter which seem to be purely literary inventions, apart from some general remarks of an editorial nature there is only one concrete story, that of the healing of the impotent man at the gate of the temple (iii. i ff.). The explanations given by Peter concerning this cure show that reference is not being made to a 'gift of healing' as is mentioned in i Cor. xii. 9 or to a Virtue' which Jesus possessed and felt went out of him when the woman with an issue of blood touched the hem of his garment according to Mark v. 30, but only to an invocation which brought into play the power of Christ. It is not so much a miracle of healing as a healing through prayer.2 1 For more details I refer the reader to E.P., pp. 86 ff. * We must consider the compiler responsible for the grossly materialistic conception which we meet in v. 15-16 where it is aaid that the sick were healed when

7

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We notice the same sort of thing concerning visions. They abound in the second half of Acts which tells of Paul, while they are rare in the first half.1 Only those belonging to the legendary story of Peter at the house of Cornelius can be mentioned. The election of Matthias in place of Judas by supernatural intervention through drawing lots cannot be used to support the idea that pneumatism played any part in the history of the church at Jerusalem. It is only the revival of an old superstition. Nobody is inspired in any way since it is left entirely to God to show who must be chosen. No inference can be drawn from the story of Ananias and Sapphira, the historicity of which is very doubtful (v. i-n). We must recognise here the feeling of the church that it had such little power to ensure its own purity that it had to leave to God the task of excluding from its bosom those who had compromised it too deeply.2 3.—THE THEOLOGY OF THE CHURCH AT JERUSALEM

Why did pneumatism play such a small part in the life of Christianity at Jerusalem that for most purposes it hardly existed there at all, while in Greek Christianity its part was considerable? One reason lies in the fact that pneumatism found a more favourable soil for its development in the Greek environment than in the Judaism of the first century, which considered the age of prophecy to be closed not to be reopened until the times of the Messiah.3 In they were covered by Peter's shadow. That this is due to the compiler is confirmed by the fact that he recounts a detail of the same kind in reference to Paul, when he says that cures were made by means of handkerchiefs which he had used and had been impregnated with his sweat. 1 We must naturally put on one side those belonging to persons of the Hellenistic group (Stephen, Philip, and Ananias of Damascus). 2 The non-pneumatick character of Christianity at Jerusalem receives some support from a fact noted by Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf. II, p. 442, n. 5) that the Synoptics tell of no miracle performed by Jesus at Jerusalem, except for the cursing of the fig-tree (Mark xi. 12-14, 20-25; Matt. xxi. 18-20) and also from a fact noted by Lonmeyer, Galilaea und Jerusalem, Gottingen, 1936, p. 76, cf. p. 98, that Jamus is never represented as inspired. 8 Ps. Ixxiv. 9; Isa. Ixiii. u; Joel ii. 28 f.; Zech. xiii. 2-6; i Maccabees iv. 44 ff.; ix. 27; xiv. 41. Cf. J. Bonsirven, Le Judaisme Palestinien au temps de Je'sus-Christ, Paris, 1935, I, p. 256. Guignebert (Le monde juif vers le temps dejtsus, p. 84, n. 2) maintains that prophecy was not completely extinct but by basing his argument on the calling of John Baptist in Luke iii. 2, he makes his contention unacceptable since it depends on a Christian document. Bousset-Gressman, Rel. d. Jud^ pp. 394 ff., supports the same hypothesis by more consistent arguments, in particular, by referring to a clear mention of ecstatic phenomena in the Jewish apocalypses. But allowance must be made for the fact that these descriptions are only literary imitations in character and constitute nothing more than a surviving literary form.

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the Greek environment on the contrary enthusiasm in the etymological sense of the word was still alive. Popular preachers and philosophers felt that they were the mouthpieces of the gods and on that score claimed attention.1 While Christianity in Jerusalem felt that it was a new religion, it was both theoretically bound up with Judaism and also in material contact with it. On the other hand, Paul, who moulded Greek Christianity so clearly with his own imprint, and was much more conscious of the absolute novelty of the Gospel could only find an explanation for his own radical conversion in the compelling intervention of Christ in his own life, not just at the very beginning of his career as a Christian but extending over his whole Christian life. There are also definite theological reasons to explain why pneumatism has such a small place in the life of Palestinian Christianity. We can see them clearly if we consider the kind of theology to be found in the sermons of Peter. In the first of these sermons, the one woven into the context of the story of Pentecost,2 Jesus is described as a man approved of God as his envoy by the miracles wrought by his hands. Two points must be emphasised: the term 'man' which is applied to Christ and the idea that Jesus was in his miracles only an instrument used by God. Peter goes on to recall how the Jews caused his death by Gentile hands.3 But his death was the realisation of a purpose predetermined in the will and foreknowledge of God (ii. 22-23). This idea is merely suggested without being put into precise form. Nothing is said of this divine plan or of the part which Jesus was to play in it. No reference is made to Old Testament prophecies. The idea is put forward in a very rudimentary form without any of the later developments. An affirmation of the resurrection follows without any reference to the empty tomb or to the resurrection appearances.4 It rests on nothing but an exegetical argument and the testimony of the apostles to what can only be a spiritual experience and refers only to the act by which God has raised up Jesus (ii. 24-32). Raised now 1

Reitzenstein, Hellen. Mysterrel., pp. 12 ff., 19, 48 f., 99 ff. There is no need in this sermon to take into account the references to the outpouring of the Spirit. They are additions of the editor for the sake of making a link between the sermon and the story which forms its context. 3 The conception of the respective part of the Jews and the Romans in the passion to be found here is subordinate to that existing in the gospels (see V. de J., p. 392 and Life of Jesus, p. 464) but here it is only a detail added by the compiler. In the main it is certain that the Jews were not ignorant of the death of Jesus. 4 See p. 62. 2

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to the right hand of God, he has received the Spirit who had been promised and has poured him over his own disciples.1 The house of Israel must now know that God had made this Jesus whom it had crucified Lord and Christ (ii. 33-36). The idea that Jesus only became Messiah through his exaltation to heaven is very primitive. After this declaration Peter draws the practical consequences in reply to his audience's request as to what they ought to do: 'Repent and be baptised everyone of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost'.2 This exhortation is supported by the declaration that the Spirit is promised to the Jews and their children and to all that are afar off as many as the Lord shall call.3 Peter exhorts them to save themselves from this untoward generation (ii. 38-40), i.e. to separate themselves from them to escape being shut out from the Kingdom of God, which is the fate hanging over them. As it is a generation and not a world which is untoward, it must follow that the sin of which they must repent has been committed by the Jewish nation through putting Jesus to death. The second sermon which comes after the healing of the impotent man follows the same line of thought. Jesus is described in it as irals Oeov. This expression has a double meaning as it can mean either 'servant' or 'child of God'. We must understand it in the first sense and so see one of the processes through which the idea of the divine sonship of Jesus is introduced and formed. The term 'servant of God' is equivalent to the term 'a man approved by God' which was used in the first sermon. This servant, Jesus, has been rejected by the Jews.4 They have put him to death, although he was 'the prince of life', i.e. it was his function to give men the true life or to lead them to it. God has raised him up. Peter and his companions are witnesses of this (iii. i5).6 The Jews and their leaders in putting Jesus to death acted in ignorance but by this means God has realised what he had promised by the mouth of all the prophets. Then comes, as in the first sermon, an exhortation to repentance which will assure 1 This 8

appears to be an addition of the compiler. Here also can be recognised an addition of the compiler. 'Those who are afar off* may be Jews of the diaspora or Gentiles. The former may be the meaning in the original and the latter that given to it by the compiler. * The theme referring to Pilate wishing to release Jesus and the Barabbas incident is slightly developed here. But as it is derived from an elaborated form in the gospel tradition it must be accounted the work of the compiler. 5 As in chapter ii we have no allusion here to the empty tomb or to the appearance. IOO 8

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forgiveness of sins. The fruits of repentance are described somewhat differently from chapter ii. Not only will the Jews be restored to their alliance with God from whom they have been separated by the wrong which they have done to Jesus but repentance will also bring positive results by allowing the times of refreshing to come from the Lord and the sending of the predestined Messiah, Jesus, who must remain in the heavens until the restitution of all things spoken of by the prophets1 (iii. 19-21). To support this statement Peter quotes a series of passages from the Old Testament, which speak of the coming of a prophet who shall deliver the people. He refers them to the second coming of Jesus, which alone will have a messianic character. God has raised up and sent his servant for the Jews2 to bless them and turn them from their wicked works. This passage appears to be referring to the first coming of Jesus, as the repentance of the Jews is conceived as the condition of Jesus coming as Messiah. The thought of the sermon is not perfectly coherent. According to verse 17 the Jews put Jesus to death through ignorance and Peter appears to excuse them on that account. We cannot suppose that the compiler has touched this passage up, as, if he had done so, he would have made the thought more coherent. It seems better to explain this contradiction by the gropings of thought which is trying to express itself. The only remark to be noted of the words put into the mouth of Peter when he is questioned by the authorities is that there is none other name except that of Jesus by which men can be saved (iv. 12). In the speech before the Sanhedrin the same theme keeps cropping up: God has raised up Jesus, whom the Jews had put to death and has raised and exalted him to be prince and Saviour, to give Israel repentance and forgiveness of sins, i.e. to persuade them to repent so that forgiveness will be assured them. Because the resurrection shows the gravity of the wrong they have done Jesus, in itself it constitutes an appeal to repentance, and furthermore, the 1 To understand how the restoration of all things, i.e. the arrival of the new age can depend on the conversion of the Jews, we must remember that the end of redemption is not only the salvation of men but also the glory of God by the establishment of his reign, which can only take effect when a messianic people is established through the repentance of the Jews or, failing that, through the conversion of the Gentiles. 2 The text has the words 'to the Jews first* but, as nothing in what follows envisages the extension of salvation to the Gentiles, it must be supposed that the words 'at first* have been added by a compiler who was a universalist to a source which was not so. IOI

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fact that Jesus has become the Saviour guarantees the efficacy of repentance. Of this the apostles are witnesses1 (v. 3O-32).2 The theology of these sermons is still very simple and its form floating; yet its attitude is quite distinct. They show a functional christology which explains the person and work of Jesus by what he did not by what he was. It has two poles, one in the past in the ministry of Jesus as prophet and healer, the other in the future in the work which he will accomplish on his return as Messiah and redeemer. In the meanwhile he sits at the right hand of God but he is apparently inactive and there is nothing to show that he intervenes either in the individual's life or that of the community of those who believe in him and expect him. There is no reference in these sermons to anything comparable to the activity which according to Paul the Christ-Spirit exercises in the life of believers and of the church. Verse 33 of chapter ii, which is of an editorial character,3 speaks of the Spirit which Christ has received and has poured over his own disciples as something which remains external to him and has no direct relationship with him. When the fact that Christianity at Jerusalem was not pneumatick in character is placed in this theological framework the reason for it is plain and we can see it in its true character. It was a form of Christianity where the Christ played no active part. The framework of the theology of Peter's sermons is completely Jewish and eschatological.4 It centres round an expectation of salvation but does not possess the assurance of a salvation which has been already realised. It is true that the hope of salvation differs from that to be found in Judaism; it does not rest only on the promises of God and the words of the prophets but also on the ministry of Jesus and especially on his exaltation as Messiah at the right hand of God. Yet it always remains a hope. Men continue to wait for the coming of the Messiah who will grant forgiveness of sins5 and will realise 1 To the witness of the apostles is added that of the Spirit which God gives to those who obey Him. This has no organic connection with what goes before and is due2to the compiler. We are not using Peter's sermon at the house of Cornelius as it does not come from the same source as the first chapters. 8 This is one of the elements by which the sermon is adapted to the story of the outpouring of the Spirit, which is the sermon's setting. It makes an awkward division between verses 32 and 34. 4 It does not appear to have envisaged the idea of the salvation of the Gentiles. 5 This sin is thought to be especially that which the Jews committed by putting Jesus to death. Consciousness of sin is far from having in Peter's sermons and the book of Acts the tragic character which Paul gives to it. 102

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the Kingdom of God. But this Messiah is known; he has lived on earth. This is a novelty for Judaism and one must be careful not to underestimate the importance of this. The expectation of his coming could assume a more concrete form and increase in tenseness through being charged with a personal loyalty. The Jewish people have committed a crime against the man who is to be the Messiah and they must repent of it to obtain forgiveness for it. The preaching of the gospel begins then to assume the character of an appeal to repentance in quite a different sense from what it had been with John Baptist and with Jesus, a fact which contributes to giving the conceptions of sin and forgiveness a central position in Christian thought. In order to understand completely the part played by the theology in Peter's sermons in the formation of Christian doctrine we have to do more than consider it by itself. We must take account of what is essentially there without yet being formally expressed. There are present certain ideas logically leading to developments which did in fact take place later on. Such, for example, is the idea that the sufferings, death, and resurrection of Jesus were arranged by God in advance. In chapter ii. 23 f. a quotation from Psalm xvi is used as the only argument for this as the author sees in it a prediction of the resurrection. Starting from the idea that God willed the death of Jesus, one was bound to ask how it was possible to know that God willed it and why he did so. An answer to the first question came from the use of prophetic exegesis and this proved one of the factors in the development of the gospel tradition.1 An answer to the second question was given by developing the idea of God's plan of redemption using the death of Jesus as a necessary means for the accomplishment of human salvation. While Peter's sermons yield only a functional christology, yet we can also see in them the germ of an ontological one. The idea that after the resurrection Jesus became Messiah, the prince of life, was bound to lead to the idea that his whole nature had been transformed by the resurrection. 4.—THE LIFE OF THE CHURCH AT JERUSALEM A C C O R D I N G TO ACTS

The book of the Acts gives some information about the life of the first Christian community in notes of a fairly general character (ii. 43-47; iv. 32-35; v. 12-16) which form, however, precious sources 1

On prophetic exegesis see.?, de N.,pp. 125 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 175 ff.

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of evidence. They show us a group united in a brotherhood whose religious life had two centres, the temple where they participated in the worship of Judaism1 and 'the house'2 where they celebrated together the breaking of the bread, i.e. a eucharist which looked entirely to the reunion in the future with the Lord in the consummated Kingdom of God without any idea of a present blessing associated with the idea of union with Christ through the celebration of the meal. It has been suggested that although only the word 'house1 is used for the meetings of Christians, in reality they formed a synagogue (called the synagogue of the Galileans or of the Nazarenes), one of the many synagogues at Jerusalem which the Jews formed according to their particular affinities without any thought of separation.3 But Acts xii. 12 show us that the Christians met together in the houses belonging to those of them who could accommodate them. The author emphasises the spirit of fellowship which reigned among the members of the church and says that they had everything in common, that they sold their possessions and distributed the proceeds among them according to everyone's need (ii. 45). The same information is given with more precision in iv. 34, but the facts show this to be only an ideal picture. If the community of goods was a rule imposed on members of the church, how has the action of Barnabas been remembered who sold some land in his possession to give the price to the church? (i. 36-37).* Apart from the detachment shown by Christians perhaps sustained by their belief 1 Acts mentions specifically participation by Christians, in Jewish prayers but says nothing of their attitude towards the temple sacrifices. It does not appear to have been negative like that of the Essenes. This is true whatever may be our opinion of the historicity of the detail mentioned in Acts xxi. 23 f., where it is said that James requested Paul on his last visit to Jerusalem to associate himself with four brethren who had vowed a vow and to purify himself in front of the sacrifice. Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 39, remarks that if the Christians had abstained from sacrifices entirely they would not have preserved the saying of Jesus, 'When you offer sacrifice . . .' (Matt. v. 23-24). * In place of the singular KCLT OIKOV the Western text has the plural KO.T OLKOVS which appears to suggest that there were too many Christians to meet in one house. The Western recensors have taken KO.T OIKOV too literally and did not understand the author's intention which was simply to distinguish between the particular assemblies of Christians and those of the Jews. 8 e.g. the synagogues of the Libertines which I shall speak about later on, p. 170, n. 2.4 In the Ananias-Sapphira incident (v. 8-n) Peter expressly declares that they could preserve their goods. The case of Mary can also be recalled. She kept the ownership of her house (xiii. 12).

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in the imminent end of the world and the development of a service of assistance which appears to have grown considerably l the only fact to be inferred from this legend is that the little Galilean colony which formed the initial nucleus of the church lived in common and had only one purse.2 1 What form this service took cannot be denned in detail. In the same passage, which appears on other accounts to reflect a later organisation, daily distributions (in money or in kind ?) and common meals are mentioned in succession. 1 It was perhaps originally formed out of the sale of what they possessed in Galilee, e.g. Peter had a boat and what with difficulty they had been able to keep when they came to settle in Jerusalem. Guignebert admits this, Le Christ, pp. 104 f.

IOS

CHAPTER I I

The Church in Jerusalem after A.D. 44 The Fate of Judaeo-Christianity THE years 43-44 were both for the church in Jerusalem and in a more general way for the development of Christianity a period of crisis. Simultaneously, or almost simultaneously, three things happened. At first sight they appear to have taken place independently of each other but further examination shows a close bond between them. Undoubtedly they mutually reacted upon each other and are closely linked together, even though they did not spring from the same root. We are faced with a double difficulty both when we come to study and bring to light these events and when we try to explain and interpret them and analyse their consequences. First of all, the direct information at our disposal, which at any rate does not amount to much, only allows us at the most to see these events as isolated happenings without telling us anything of their causes, their possible relationship to each other, or the repercussions which they caused either at Jerusalem or beyond. Secondly the events at Jerusalem to be considered here had causes and effects which were both local and general.1 I.—WHAT HAPPENED ABOUT A.D. 44

Here are the three things which happened at Jerusalem in the years 43-44 given in their chronological order. i. The church at Jerusalem discovered quite suddenly, it seems, that the position of the community founded at Antioch twelve years 1 This could have been avoided by adopting another plan and following more exactly the chronological order of events but, after weighing everything up, it appeared that, although there might be some inconveniences, it would be better without dividing the study of Christianity at Jerusalem or in Greece up into pieces, to treat all the reactions resulting from the preaching of the Gospel together.

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earlier was very different from its own, although it had not been ignorant of its existence without, however, ever having until then had occasion to enter into relations with it.1 From its first beginnings Gentiles had been admitted into it without any demand being made upon them to be circumcised or to comply with the observance of the Jewish law. Christians of Jewish origin seem to have shown no anxiety or scruple at living in close religious communion with men who, despite their conversion to the gospel, remained none the less from the point of view of Jewish ritual impure Gentiles. A journey made to Antioch by some Christians from Judaea2 disclosed an outlook in this church quite different from that which characterised the church at Jerusalem. The Jews attempted to impress upon the Gentile converts at Antioch that they could not be saved unless they had themselves circumcised according to the Mosaic custom. They met with lively opposition from Barnabas and Paul, especially the latter. As agreement was found to be impossible it was decided that delegates of the Christians at Antioch should go up to Jerusalem to discuss the question there. At Jerusalem a rupture was avoided but not without difficulty and, although the two contradictory positions could not be really reconciled and an agreement arrived at, yet it was agreed in principle that the leaders of the church at Jerusalem should recognise the validity of Paul's apostleship and preaching and extend 'hands of fellowship* to Barnabas and Paul. They were thus given complete freedom to preach the gospel to the Gentiles, without anything being fixed or determined concerning what the relations should be between Jewish and Gentile Christians when circumstances brought them together. Furthermore, it was only a personal agreement made between 'the pillars of the church' themselves. The mass of the faithful do not appear to have followed them but to have persisted in their intransigent attitude. 2. At the beginning of 44 just before the Passover the church received a sharp attack. The Jews publicly expressed their opposition to the Christians which Herod Agrippa appeased by having James 1 Although, because the divergences between the church at Jerusalem and that at Antioch were for a long time ignored, conflict was avoided, it made it all the more bitter when it eventually flared up. The divergent positions had had time to harden and grow definite. 2 The passage Acts xv. i, which informs us of this does not tell us if it was by chance these Jewish Christians came to Antioch or if they had been sent by the leaders of the church at Jerusalem or by some of them who had learnt or suspected that the church at Antioch did not take up the attitude towards the Gentile converts which appeared at Jerusalem to be normal. I shall return to this question later.

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and, doubtless his brother John too, put to death and imprisoning Peter. He escaped early in the morning of the day when he was to be brought to trial. His escape is told as a miraculous deliverance; it must have been surrounded in mystery to protect from discovery those who had facilitated it. Agrippa's persecution was violent but brief; it did not touch the masses of the faithful but only certain of the leaders of the church, those who belonged to the party which had met Paul with concessions, which the church in Jerusalem, to judge by his subsequent attitude, does not appear to have approved of. Did persecution cease because the deaths of James and John together with Peter's departure were sufficient to satisfy public opinion or was it because Herod's sudden death, followed by the re-establishment of the rule of procurators, brought back a situation where it was more difficult for the Jews to express in action their hostility towards the Christians? Apparently the first explanation is to be preferred, as the story in Acts shows quite clearly that Herod left Jerusalem for Caesarea, which appears to show that he had lost interest in the Christians. We may then presume that the emotions which had stirred Jewish public opinion were allayed after the conference, both because they received satisfaction and also because it was seen that, taking all things into account, the church at Jerusalem remained loyal to Judaism and made no concession to Paul's position. Although the evidence for the conference is quite independent of that for the persecution and the compiler of Acts placed the conference at Jerusalem out of its chronological order so that the two events are not mentioned in sequence, it is not rash for us to think that they were intimately bound up together and that Jewish public opinion was stirred up against the Christians by the concessions made to Paul. 3. The third event which happened in 44 quite clearly was a result of the persecution as it is concerned with Peter's departure from Jerusalem. But it is possible that it was caused by a situation existing both before the persecution and the conference. For Peter does not seem to have returned to Jerusalem when the storm had passed, and none of the apostles are ever mentioned any more in the history of the church at Jerusalem after 44,* while the direction 1

This does not mean that the party was not represented at Jerusalem afterwards. We shall see that representatives of the apostolic tradition emigrated from Palestine to Asia after 70.

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of this church passed into the hands of James. The change therefore was not only a change of personnel caused by circumstances but also a change of government favoured by circumstances which must have been prepared for beforehand. Harnack1 notes that according to a tradition which appears to have been widespread,2 the apostles, in obedience to the Lord's orders, remained twelve years in Jerusalem before scattering over the world to preach the gospel and suggested that there could be found in this a confused memory of the fact that the apostles left Jerusalem in 44. But we must rather see in this tradition an effort to harmonise two elements in the conception of apostleship to be met with in the book of the Acts, (i) the idea that the apostles directed the life of all the Christian communities from Jerusalem, and (2) the idea that the essential function of the apostles was to scatter all over the world and preach the gospel.3 Besides this the interval from the death of Jesus to 44 is sixteen not twelve years and, even if the number twelve is supposed to be given as an approximation and for reasons of symbolism, the difference is too great for it to be a true recollection of the period during which the church at Jerusalem was under the direction of the Twelve. Harnack 4 thinks that the direction of the church passed into the hands of James as a result of a change in its composition. Strongly Hellenistic at first, he supposes that it became Jewish through the occurrence of a large number of Jewish conversions; in this way he explains that the Seven and the Twelve successively disappeared and that finally the direction of the church came into the hands of James. There may be an element of truth in this idea but in the form in which it is presented by Harnack it cannot be retained. First of all, as we shall see later on,5 if the Hellenists and the Seven had to leave Jerusalem at an early date, it was not owing to an internal conflict within the church, but to the violent hostility to which Jews treated them after the death of Stephen.6 Furthermore, 1

Harnack, Mission, II, p. 96; cf. I, p. 45. Kerygma Petrou, a fragment mentioned by Clement of Alexandria, Strom., VI, 5-43. Apollonius, mentioned by Eusebius, H.e. V. 18, 4; Acta Petri cum Simone 3. Cf. Von Dobschutz, Das Kerygma Petri, Leipzig, 1893, pp. 52 ff.; Harnack, S.B.A., 1912, p. 678. 3 The importance of this idea was reinforced by the fact that from some particular date the churches which could do so strove to attribute to themselves an 6 apostolic origin. * Harnack, Mission, II, p. 96, n. 2. See pp. 461 ff. ' It may be asked, it is true, if the complaints concerning the way in which the Hellenist widows were treated in the distribution of alms, did not mask a conflict of another kind. This, however, does not appear likely; the purpose of the story is 2

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although there are reasons for thinking that Peter did not adopt such a rigorist attitude as James on the question of Gentile converts conforming to the ritual obligations of the law and was ready in some measure to accommodate himself to circumstances, he stayed nearer to James than Paul on this question, especially in the period previous to 44 when he had not yet entered into relations with the church at Antioch. Nevertheless there may have been some rivalry between Peter and James which ended in the disappearance of Peter and the Twelve leaving the primacy to James with the desposunoi1 as his successors and doubtless as assistants as well. Their disappearance took place before 44, i.e. before the time when the question of the position of Gentiles in the church cropped up at Jerusalem.2 After the departure of the apostles two opposing developments took place. James and his group grew more exacting in their demands upon the Gentiles to observe the law. Peter, on the other hand, after coming to Antioch and submitting to the influence of Greek Christianity became perceptibly more liberal in his outlook towards Gentile converts.3 A divergence may have grown up between Peter and James, even opposition, but we have no evidence for its existence in the period preceding 44. 2.—JAMES AND DYNASTIC CHRISTIANITY

Further back4 I have remarked on the strangeness of the fact that James is only mentioned for the first time in the Acts in chapter xii. 17, in reference to Peter's departure from Jerusalem in 44, clearly to explain the coexistence of the Twelve and the Seven, which the author has understood on the lines of the orders existing in his own time, i.e. of deacons subordinated to presbyters or episcopoi. It was therefore natural for him to treat the Seven as deacons and to come to regard the incident concerning the distribution of alms as the occasion which brought their ministry into being. 1 This term means 'those who are connected with the Lord*. To our knowledge it was used for the first time by Julius, the African, in his 'Letter to Aristides', Eusebius, H.e. i. 7, 14, as a title for the members of Jesus' family. 2 It is true that in xi. 2 it is said that, when Peter returned to Jerusalem from his visit to Cornelius, 'they of the circumcision* reproached him for entering the house of a Gentile. There could not have been at Jerusalem a party of the circumcision before 44, because it was not known that Gentiles had been admitted into the church at Antioch without obligation. In addition to this the Cornelius incident has no historical value. 8 We do not know how long he remained at Antioch or when he left it, but it appears certain that for the whole of the latter part of his life he lived in Greek Christian churches. * See p. 94, n. i. IIO

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although he had been an important and influential person for some time past, since on Peter's departure from Jerusalem the direction of the church falls to him. We have also established the fact1 that a group was formed at an early date, which claimed for James the distinction given to Peter by the original tradition, of having experienced the first appearance of the risen Christ, and created the phrase 'he was seen of James, then of all the apostles'. To appreciate the significance of these facts we must consider as a whole the tradition preserved by the church concerning James. There are two distinct elements in the tradition which are quite unconnected. On the one hand, there is a very clear remembrance of the fact that while Jesus was alive his brothers did not believe in his mission. Mark (iii. 21) relates how on one occasion, when the crowd were pressing so closely round Jesus to hear him that he could not even take a meal, his own people (i.e. the members of his family), tried to get hold of him by saying that he was beside himself, i.e. he was mad.2 A little later on after the Pharisees had accused Jesus of being possessed by a devil the following incident is narrated. Someone comes to tell Jesus that his mother, his brothers, and sisters are present calling for him but he, knowing that they were doing this to prevent him from doing his \york, replies, 'Who is my mother or my brethren?' And he looked round about on them which sat about him and said, 'Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of God the same is my brother, and my sister, and mother' (iii. 31-35). Besides this passage the Fourth Gospel expressly says that the brethren of Jesus did not believe in him (vii. 5). On the other hand, a remembrance of the part played by James in the early church has been preserved. We have not only to mention the evidence of the book of Acts but we must recall the evidence of the apostle Paul, which is perceptibly earlier. In i Cor. xv. 7, he recalls the tradition according to which James experienced an appearance of the risen Christ. It must have been widely prevalent at the time he was writing, as he shows no doubt on the subject. In the Epistle to the Galatians (i. 19) he says that on his first visit to Jerusalem he saw no one but Peter and James, the brother of the Lord, but no other apostle.3 Three years then, after the death of 1

See p. 42. The whole import is clearly shown by this incident being placed next to the story of the Pharisees accusing Jesus of being possessed (iii. 22-30). 8 Much discussion has taken place, which in many respects has proved fairly futile, whether the passage means that Paul saw no other apostle except James apart from Cephas, or whether he saw no other apostle except Cephas but that 2

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

Jesus, James was already a person of importance in the church. Paul's version of the conference at Jerusalem which he gives a little further on (ii. i f.) shows the importance of the part played by James in it. He figures at the side of Cephas and John—and even before them—among the pillars of the church at Jerusalem; lastly, i Cor. ix. 5 shows without specially naming James how much consideration the early church gave to the brethren of the Lord. Tradition makes James the first bishop of the church at Jerusalem. According to Clement of Alexandria,1 'on the day after the ascension Peter, James (the son of Zebedee) and John, although they had been given more honour by the Lord than any of the others, did not lay claim to the distinction of being the first bishop of Jerusalem but James the Just was chosen'.2 Tradition, however, does not preserve any memory of the circumstances in which James returned to the faith which he had at first rejected.8 This suggests a comparison with the case of Paul. Acts shows him first as persecutor and then as believer, but these two phases of his life are connected together by the story of his conversion. No story of the conversion of James has survived. This can only be explained by supposing that the group who were attached to the Twelve recalled to mind and brought up against James and his party the incredulity of the brothers of Jesus during his ministry. The early church at Jerusalem lived in the expectation of the return of the Lord, waiting for the day when he would return to he saw James. For the latest discussion of this question see H. Koch, 'Zur Jacobus frage, Gal. i. 19', Z.N.T.W., XXXIII, 1934, pp. 294-309. Koch is in favour of the latter meaning. Both are grammatically possible. If we assume the broad meaning which Paul always gives to the term 'apostles' there is nothing in any case in Gal. i. 13 to justify the arbitrary combinations which have been used to try and identify the brother of Jesus with James, the son of Alphaeus, who figures in the list of the Twelve. 1 In a fragment of the Hypotyposes, quoted by Eusebius, H.e. ii. 1,2; Jerome, De viris inl. II, supports the same tradition. * In what follows he goes so far as to say that Jesus himself made James bishop of Jerusalem, Epiphanius, Haer. Ixxviii. 7; Chrysostom, In ep. ad Cor. horn. xxxviii. 4, Eusebius already knew of this tradition (H.e. vii. 19). He reports that there was shown at Paneas, which was formerly Caesarea Philippi—'still or previously* Harnack says (Mission, II, p. 96, n. i)—the seat of James 'who received from the Lord and the apostles the bishoprick of the church at Jerusalem*. The book of the Acts must have been unknown where the tradition grew up about James being the first bishop of Jerusalem. * The story of the gospel of the Hebrews concerning the appearance of Jesus to James was not made up to provide this explanation since it suggests that James recognised much more explicitly than anybody else the Lord to be the historic Jesus. 112

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reign over his own. As the disciples had to have direction while they were waiting for this, it was supposed that those most qualified to act on behalf of the Lord provisionally as his deputies or vicars were those who were most closely connected with him while he was living on earth. At first sight it is natural to suppose that the Twelve made up his spiritual family. But when the brothers of the Lord rallied to him, the idea occurred to some that those who were members of the natural family of Jesus because they were connected to him by ties of blood ought to take his place provisionally. This introduced an element into Christianity, in one of its forms at least, which has been justly compared by Edouard Meyer to the part which the Kaliphate played in the beginnings of Islam. 'It is extremely significant', he writes, 'that in the earliest days of Christianity, as in Islam and in Mormonism, as soon as the prophet had died, a dynastic element appeared and tried to assert itself.' The brothers of Jesus are held to have a share in the same divine power as the master and themselves assert this claim.1 We can justifiably say that a dynastic Christianity supplanted apostolic Christianity at Jerusalem in 44. This fact throws light on the meaning of the polemical point implied in the references made by Mark and John to the attitude of the brothers of Jesus towards him during his ministry. This polemical point is not the only one to be noted in the gospel tradition. There is a point, strongly emphasised, in the Tu es Petrus (Matt. xvi. 17-19) and in the Pasce oves (John xxi. 15-17) 2 which is an adaptation of the former to a somewhat different conception of the church: Jesus here entrusts his mission and the power of legislation and government in the church to Peter and not to James.3 Similarly tlie power of remitting or retaining sins is given by him to the Twelve and not to his brothers (Matt, xviii. 18; John xx. 22-23). He announces to them that in his kingdom they will sit on thrones to judge the twelve tribes of Israel (Matt. xix. 28; Luke xxii. 28-3o).4 Lastly, to them and not to the desposunoi is given first the promise 1 Meyer, Urspr. ti. Anf. III., p. 224. Before Meyer, Johannes Weiss (Urckrist., pp. 558 ff.) had already emphasised the importance of this fact. * Concerning the meaning of these two texts see E.P., pp. 184 ff. 1 Foakes, Jackson, and Lake, Beginn. I, p. 330, suppose that the Tu es Petrus was thought of at Antioch as a defence for Peter against James. 4 Concerning this logion see my article 'La demande des premieres places dans le Royaume messianique et le logion sur les trones', R.h.r. 1941, CXXIII, pp. 32 ff

8

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and later the gift of the Holy Spirit (Luke xxiv. 49; Acts i. 8; ii. i ff.; John xx. 22).1 Lastly, the Fourth Gospel contains the incident of Jesus entrusting his mother to the beloved disciple (xix. 26-27) which we cannot help but consider to be an antidynastic point; it is written in terms which would lead the chance reader to think that the death of Jesus would leave his mother alone and deserted, without any other sons to look after her. It is possible that this incident originated in the confusion created by the fact that there was in the church at Jerusalem a woman with the name of Mary who had a son John with the surname Mark (Acts xii. 12). None the less, it remains true that the author of this incident did not know or did not wish to recall the presence of the brothers of Jesus in the church and dissociated his mother from them. The antidynastic points to be found in the book of the Acts and in the gospels are all the more striking since dynastic Christianity seems to have been an entirely Palestinian affair and there is no sign that it played any part in Greek Christianity. The antidynastic polemic never existed in the Greek environment in which the gospels were written. What we find in them must be considered the survival of a polemic which had been much more active in an earlier period.2 1

On the contrary I do not think that the interpretation of Johannes Weiss (Uf'Christ., p. 559) can be adopted which also finds an antidynastic point in the demand of James and John for the first places in the messianic kingdom (Mark x. 35-40; Matt. xx. 20-23). For the reasons which compel me to reject this interpretation see the Note d'exegese mentioned in the preceding footnote, pp. 37 ff. 2 The polemic between the partisans of dynastic Christianity and those of apostolic Christianity has a curious echo in the second century. Hegesippus in his story of the death of James (in Eusebius, H.e. ii. 23, 6) says that he only was allowed to enter into the sanctuary (i.e. into the holy of holies where only the high priest entered once a year) and that he wore vestments of linen following the custom of the priests, not of wool. He thus makes him out to have been a high priest. The same tradition is to be found in Epiphanius (Haer. xxix. 4; Ixxviii. 13) who refers to Eusebius, Clement of Alexandria, and others and describes James as a high priest with greater precision by saying that he wore the petalos, the gold plate which adorned the tiara of the high priest (Exod. xxviii. 36 f.; xxix. 6; xxxix. 30-31; Lev. viii. 9). Jerome (De viris inl. 2) and Andrew of Crete (Vita Jacobi, ed. Papadopoulos Kerameus, x. 21) support the same tradition. For the attempt made by Eisler to defend the historicity of this tradition, IHZOY2 BASIAEYS OY BA2IAEY HAS Heidelburg, 1929, II, pp. 580 ff., on the subject of Eisler's system, see my observations *J£sus et le messianisme politique. Examen de la theV>rie de M. Robert Eisler' (Rev. lust. 1929, CLII, pp. 217-67). In this tradition can be seen only a legend, the purpose of which is to glorify James. There is a very similar tradition about John which can have no greater value. The evidence for it comes in a letter of Polycartes of Ephesus to Victor of Rome (Eusebius, H.e. iii. 31, 3). It is there said of him that he was 'high priest, having worn the petalos, martyr

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When we come to analyse the traditions concerning Palestinian Christianity in the period from 70 to the revolt of Barkochba, we shall find that the rights conceded to the desposunoi were derived at that time, not only from their common parentage with the Lord, but also from the fact, that like him they claimed to be descended from David. From this it can be legitimately inferred that the hopes for the future entertained by dynastic Christianity at this period had acquired or resumed an outlook distinctly nationalistic. Did they possess this already before 70? To attempt to answer this question we must examine the form which belief in the Davidic descent of Jesus assumed. It appeared very early on; the Apostle Paul affirms it in the most distinct manner in Romans i. 3. From the infancy narratives right up to the solemn entry of Jesus into Jerusalem the evangelists declare it in such an explicit manner that it is unnecessary to quote the texts. It seems quite clear that it depended on a dogmatic assumption rather than historical evidence. Men were not induced to believe Jesus was Messiah because they knew he was descended from David. It was rather the reverse. They thought he was descended from David because they considered him to be Messiah. It is also very doubtful if many Jewish families possessed any exact knowledge of their ancestry at the beginning of the first century of our era.1 The gospel tradition, however, contains a pericope, which shows a somewhat critical attitude towards the Davidic descent. It is Mark xii. 35-37 and corresponding passages.2 Jesus has just been subjected and doctor*. This tradition can only be explained as a replica of that concerning James being a high priest. Nevertheless it affords evidence of the persistence of opposition between the partisans of the apostles and partisans of the desposunoi. 1 This difficulty was perceived in antiquity by Julius the African who, in his 'Letter to Aristides' (an important part of which is quoted by Eusebius, H.e. i. 7), explains that the genealogies of the families of pure Hebraic race were preserved right up to the time of Herod the Great but Herod caused them to be destroyed so that he could not be reproached for not being of the Jewish race. A few persons, however, says Julius the African, remembered their genealogies and even preserved copies of them. They lived in the towns of Nazareth and Kochaba and scoured the rest of the country to find their genealogy in the Book of the Days (13-14). This story shows a singular contradiction. Julius the African says, on the one hand, that genealogies were preserved up to the time of Herod and that the Lord's parents had to re-establish theirs by making enquiries throughout the whole country. At the same time he says that they made use of a book of days which if it existed at all must have been at a given place. This enquiry would certainly have been made before the orders of Herod as he would have first ordered the Book of the Days to have been destroyed. Again an enquiry made at that time by people who claim to have knowledge of their genealogy defies explanation. The whole statement is quite inconsistent and does not contain a shred of truth. 2 I am considering it here only in the form in which Mark gives it. The texts of Matthew and Luke only differ by insignificant variations.

"5

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to a whole series of insidious questions by the Jews in an attempt to place him in an embarrassing position and extract from him some compromising answer. He turns round, takes the offensive, and asks questions of his interlocutors. Quoting from a passage in Psalm ex. i which was currently interpreted in a Messianic sense, he asks them how could David in speaking of Messiah call him 'Lord', if he is his son. The question assumes that the title Lord implies Messiah's superiority over David while the title son implies subordination to him. The Jews cannot reply to this question. We are not concerned to know how far in a more or less mutilated form this story preserves the words of Jesus. What we want to know is in what sense the evangelists have understood the question and whether they thought any reply possible or called for. Some commentators1 judge this passage to be a criticism of the idea of the Davidic descent of Messiah. In any case it cannot be supposed that this was the meaning which the evangelists gave to this story since when they wrote the Davidic descent of Jesus was a well established dogma. Before we try to see what meaning can be given to Jesus' question we must consider two passages in the Fourth Gospel. It is said in vii. 40 f. that when the people in the crowd heard Jesus teaching in Jerusalem, they said, 'He is the Christ' to which others made the objection, 'Shall Christ come out of Galilee? Hath not the scripture said, That Christ cometh of the seed of David and out of the town of Bethlehem where David was?' A little later, when Nicodemus observes to the Pharisees who were much enraged against Jesus that the Law does not allow anyone to be condemned without being heard, they reply to him, 'Art thou also of Galilee? Search and look; for out of Galilee ariseth no prophet' (vii. 52). Something similar is found in i. 45 ff. when Philip says to Nathanael, 'We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph'. Nathanael replies disdainfully, 'Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?' As soon as Nathanael allowed himself to be led to Jesus who told him that he had seen him at a distance under a fig-tree—this scene is not described and it is futile to try and picture it—he cries out, 'Rabbi, thou art the Son of God; thou art the I^ing of Israel'. The meaning of this is quite clear. The evangelist is alluding to an 1 Among others, H. J. Holtzmann, Hand-commentur gum Neuen Testament, Tubingen, Leipzig, 1901, I, I8, p. 166; Loisy, Les fivangiles synoptiques, Ceffond, 1908, II, p. 362; Bultmann, Gesch., pp. 145 ff.

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objection which the Jews must have been making at the time against those who affirmed the Messiahship of Jesus. He meets it with what is for him the one thing decisive, the evidence of faith. This explains why in chapter vii the objection is stated without any reply. We can easily understand a mystic like the fourth evangelist taking up this attitude but it is more difficult to attribute it to the synoptic evangelists who appear to have been spirits of another kind from John's. When they treat this question of the Davidic descent of the Messiah they give no reply to it because they consider that the reply is obvious and can presume that their readers know the answer. We can see what the reply would be in the passage in the Epistle to the Romans concerning it. In it the person of Jesus is defined from two complementary points of view and it is plain that either of them treated in isolation would fail to provide a satisfactory definition. From the point of view of the flesh Christ is the son of David but this is a condition of Messiahship not its efficient cause. From the point of view of the Spirit or through the Spirit he is son of God. If then Jesus was only son of David he would not be Messiah, i.e. 'Lord* over David and superior to him. This is the meaning of the declaration put into the mouth of Jesus. We can see here a point directed against the desposunoi who, because they said that they were sons of David, believed that they had the right to a special place in the church and to direct it. The fact that this fragment found its way into the tradition received by Mark and is reproduced by him without perhaps properly understanding it appears to prove that even before 70 ideas of the Davidic descent of the Messiah were mentioned and discussed, it being maintained that it held good for Jesus but that it could not justify any pretensions the desposunoi might put forward. It is thus permissible for us to think that even before 70 future expectations had assumed a nationalistic character in dynastic Christianity. Finally, a passage in the book of Acts (i. 6-8) makes a polemical point against the nationalistic bias in the expectations for the future entertained by the desposunoi. They may have inherited this or themselves created it. After Jesus has announced to his disciples that in a few days they will receive the baptism of the holy Spirit, they ask him if at this time he will restore the Kingdom to Israel. Jesus meets this question with a kind of demur by declaring to them that it is not for them to know the times and seasons which God has put in his own power, i.e. He has not only not revealed 117

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them but He has not yet fixed them.1 He repeats, as if it were the only thing that mattered to the disciples, the promise of the holy Spirit. Apocalyptic preoccupations are thus opposed by the argument that concerning the time when the events of the end will happen they are in any case unpredictable. Is there anything more in this passage? The question put by the disciples shows that they considered that the baptism of the Spirit would coincide with the national restoration which they were expecting. Jesus' reply denies this coincidence, at least so far as the realisation of their hopes is concerned. The pouring out of the Spirit is quite near, but when the restoration of the nation will take place cannot be known. It would be going too far to see in Jesus' reply a rejection of the idea of a national restoration; it is not even implied. There is nothing more than a censure passed on excessive importance being attached to this idea. From this it can be inferred that dynastic Christianity had given its hopes and expectations a nationalistic colour. We are all the more justified in interpreting this passage in this way because, while the idea of a national restoration does not appear again in Acts, the compiler in mentioning views of the future makes Peter speak of 'times of refreshing and the re-establishment of all things' (iii. 20-21) and Paul of 'the hope of the resurrection of the dead* (xxiii. 6). 3.—THE MOTHER OF JESUS

Is there any relationship between the dynastic movement of the first generation of Christians and the tendency, which began to show itself a little later—only after 70, since it is not yet formed in Mark's gospel—to attribute to the mother of Jesus an important place in Christian piety? To reply to this question we will pass in review what the tradition says about Mary. Mark's gospel only mentions her in addition to her sons and daughters in their attempt to seize Jesus and prevent him from following his work (Mark iii. 20-21, 31-35). At the time when Mark was writing it cannot be supposed that Mary played any part in the life of the church. In the gospel of the infancy told by Matthew, Mary plays quite a passive part. She is an instrument used by God and nothing more. It is very different in the story told by Luke where Mary is no longer eclipsed. In the scene of the annunciation, after she has been told of God's designs, she acquiesces in them with 1 For the reasons why this moment is conceived as not having been fixed by God, see p. 101, n. i.

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a humility and confidence which the narrator wishes to put forward as a pattern.1 After the adoration of the shepherds it is said that 'Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart' (ii. ig).2 We must also recall the words addressed to her by the old man, Simeon (ii. 34-35). He says that 'a sword shall pierce her heart' which seems to associate her closely with the drama of the passion. The man who conceived and wrote this gospel could not have thought that Mary remained a stranger to the Christian faith and had no place in the church. It is surprising that after this Luke does not name Mary again and only speaks of her when he recalls a speech of Jesus disavowing her by declaring that he regarded only those who do the will of God as his mother and brethren (viii. iQ-ai).3 The infancy gospel is a fragment borrowed from an earlier tradition. Its Palestinian origin is 1 1 am not taking into consideration here the Magnificat because there is doubt concerning its attribution. While the great majority of the manuscripts introduce it with the words, 'And Mary said', the reading, 'and Elizabeth said', is found in three manuscripts of the Latin version (a.b.l*). St. Jerome attests that this reading was found in some manuscripts of his time which is confirmed by the evidence of Nicetas. It is given by some of the manuscripts of the Latin version of Irenaeus. In one of the two passages quoted by Irenaeus (iv. 7, i) the Armenian version which seems to have been made from the Syriac and not from the Latin there are the words, 'And Elizabeth said'. The other passage where Irenaeus quotes the Magnificat (iii. 10, i) is not known in the Armenian version. It looks as if Irenaeus must have attributed the Magnificat to Elizabeth. See E. Ter Minassiante, 'Hat Irenaeus Lc., i, 46, Mapia oder EXi&fer gelesen?' Z.N.T.W., 1906, VII, pp. 191 ff. In verse 56 after the Magnificat we read 'and Mary stayed with her' (Elizabeth), although if she had just spoken we should have expected 'and she stayed with Elizabeth'. Since it is difficult to suppose that Elizabeth would be substituted for Mary, the reading 'Elizabeth' apparently must be retained, unless we adopt the ingenious hypothesis of Loisy (Ev. Syn. I, p. 303) that the oldest text had no proper name at all. In that case, both because Elizabeth is the last subject expressed in what precedes the Magnificat and because of the concluding words, the Magnificat would have to be attributed to Elizabeth. Among the critics who have pronounced to this effect can be named: Voelter, Die Apokalypse des Zacharias im Evangelium des Lukas, Theol. Tidschr., 1896, XXX, pp. 244 f.; Loisy (under the pseudonym of Jacobe), 'L'origine du Magnificat', R.h.l.r., 1897, II, pp. 424-32 and Ev. syn., I, pp. 304 f.; Harnack, 'Das Magnificat der Elizabeth', S.B.A., 1900, pp. 538 ff. The traditional attribution has been maintained by Catholic commentators and by others, e.g. F. Spitta, 'Das Magnificat, ein Psalm der Maria und nicht der Elizabeth', Theol. Abhandl.f., H.-J. Holtzmann, Tubingen, 1902, pp. 61-94. The later attribution of the poem to Mary is a symptom of the growing importance attributed to her. 2 The same remark is made after the episode of Jesus as a boy of twelve years old in the temple. 3 Mention must also be made of xi. 28, where after a certain woman of the company had cried out, 'Happy is the womb that bare thee and the paps which thou hast sucked', Jesus reproves her and says, 'Yea, rather, blessed are they which hear the word of God and keep it'.

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plain, not only from its style and numerous reminiscences and quotations from the Old Testament to be discerned in it, but also from the fact that salvation is conceived in it as reserved for Israel. The rest of Luke's gospel gives us the tradition in the form in which it was to be found in centres of Greek Christianity (Antioch perhaps) in the last third of the first century. Christianity in this form seems either to have had less interest in the mother of Jesus than Palestinian Christianity or else the interest developed more slowly, which is confirmed by the fact that in the Pauline epistles no allusion to her person is found.1 Mary is never mentioned in Acts except for a reference to her in i. 14, which we suspect is due to a late addition. This permits us to doubt if she ever came to Jerusalem. We find no mention of the mother of Jesus in the sphere of Greek Christianity until we come down to the Fourth Gospel.2 What can be noticed in it concerning her shows quite a complex position which reveals divergent preoccupations and gives the impression of not being completely stabilised. John does not speak of the mother of Jesus in vii. 5, where he mentions the incredulousness of the brothers of Jesus. In the story of the miracle of Cana (ii. i-ii) Mary is beside Jesus: she believes in his mission and does not doubt his power to perform miracles, but the way in which Jesus receives her suggestion and denies her any right to give him advice shows the author's preoccupation to affirm Jesus' complete independence of her. We can justifiably ask ourselves if we must not see here a protest against a particular conception of Mary's part. In addition to this, the fourth evangelist differing from the synoptics places Mary among the women stationed not in the presence of the cross at a distance but directly at its foot and he relates how Jesus before he died entrusted her to the beloved disciple (xix. 25-27). This scene presumes that up to then Mary had lived with her son and that his death was going to leave her deserted. It is hardly possible to harmonise this conception with the description of the ministry of Jesus given by both the synoptics and the fourth evangelist but it is none the less characteristic of it. 1

The fact that in Gal. iv. 4 Paul says that Christ was born of a woman cannot be counted an allusion to Mary. This phrase, which is stating the natural conditions of human birth, shows that Paul did not take into account the personality of the mother of Jesus. 2 The interest which the Fourth Gospel takes in the person of Mary, although limited in other respects, is all the more striking considering that the theory of the incarnation of the Logos tends to liberate the person of Jesus from its human ties. 12O

CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

Very important differences therefore exist between the tradition concerning the mother of Jesus and that concerning his brethren. Both of them, as was quite natural, sprung up on Palestinian soil but greater interest was shown in the brethren than in the mother and made itself much more strongly felt. The latter interest extended also much more rapidly to Greek Christianity at the cost, however, of being^ integrated into it in a less durable form. They do not possess the same nature. The interest in the brethren was first and foremost of a practical nature conditioned by the part which they played in the church and by the rights and authority which they claimed to possess. The interest in Mary was never practical: at first it was purely theoretical and later became devotional as well. We have no reliable evidence that Mary was ever a member of the church and played any part in it. Attention was called to her by the appearance and development of the idea of the supernatural birth. At first she is represented as a purely passive instrument; then gradually, as Luke shows us, she became more like an active than a passive instrument because she of her own volition acquiesced in God's designs. Later on, when the idea of Mary's perpetual virginity sprung from that of the supernatural birth, she came be be considered, not only the instrument of the incarnation but a collaborator in effecting it. But scarcely can even the beginning of this development be traced in the period with which we are concerned.1 In reality therefore there is no connection between the tradition concerning the brethren of the Lord, which reflects historical facts, and that concerning Mary, which belongs to the realm of theology. We must therefore conclude that Christianity at Jerusalem was not interested in her. 4.—THE DOMESTIC HISTORY OF THE CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

We know very little of the domestic history of the church at Jerusalem during the period when it was under the government of James, which lasted from 44 to the eve of the Jewish War. While this may partly be due to the fact that the period was not marked by any striking events, there is certainly also another reason. The book 1 Apart from certain surviving cults of feminine divinities the development of the cult of Mary was helped forward by a devotional need of popular piety for an object nearer and more accessible than God and Christ and for a being with the attribute of feminine and maternal tenderness who might be worshipped.

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which would explain why the Jewish authorities considered it a of the Acts which is our only source for this period was written at a time when Jewish Christianity, which is properly called Ebionitism, of which dynastic Christianity was a continuation, had ceased to count in the life of the church. There is no doubt that traditions and memories were preserved of what happened at Jerusalem between 44 and 70 but, as there was hardly any contact between Jerusalem and Greek Christianity, the Christian community where the book of the Acts was written did not know of them. The little that this book has to tell us concerning the life of the church at Jerusalem in the period which we are considering, refers to its dealings with the apostle Paul. The author is very discreet in what he says on this point, because he thought it inopportune to recall with precision memories of past conflicts which had lost their point and did not fit in with the idealised picture of the early days in the life of the church which he wished to draw. As for the organisation of the church at Jerusalem after 44, such information as we have, together with the tradition which makes James the first bishop of Jerusalem, provides the impression that James possessed such personal power that, even if he had not had the formal title, he was the first representative of monarchical episcopacy as it came to be established and accepted in the whole church in the first half of the second century. In addition to him presbyters are mentioned (Acts xv. 2 and several times in this chapter, and xxi. 18) but in such a way that we can form no idea of their attributes and functions. The author may be only projecting into the past the part played by the council of elders in the Hellenistic communities at the end of the first century but there is a certain fascination in the idea that the elders at Jerusalem were the other members of the family of Jesus. Since James exercised power because he was a brother of the Lord it is difficult to think that the other desposunoi had no particular position of authority. It can therefore be presumed that a kind of council gathered round James which, however, his strong personality prevented from being anything but a decorative and honorary body. Concerning the material position of the church we have no direct information. From the fact that it could live in peace it may be inferred that it must not have been numerically very important,1 1

It goes without saying that neither Acts ii. 31 not Acts iv. 4, must be taken literally which mention respectively the conversion of 3,000 and 5,000 persons at once, nor Acts xxi. 20 which speaks of thousands of Jews who believed. 122

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negligible force. From the fact that Paul organised a collection for the benefit of the church at Jerusalem at the request of its leadefs and came to bring the proceeds in 58, it may be concluded that the church at Jerusalem was in financial and economic straits.1 Only one text makes us think that the churches of Judaea suffered at the hands of the Jews after 44. Writing in 51 to the Thessalonians and speaking of the tribulations through which their church had passed, Paul draws a parallel between them and what the churches of Judaea had had to bear at the hands of the Jews (i Thess. ii. 14). Some questions arise concerning this text which makes it less positive than at first sight it seems. What precise evidence did Paul possess concerning what was happening in Judaea, while he was in Macedonia and then in Greece? Paul is speaking of tribulations which the Thessalonians had suffered in the past; he is primarily thinking therefore of what had taken place when their church was founded. It may well be that he is thinking similarly of Judaea and has in mind the persecution which had compelled the Hellenists to leave Jerusalem, i.e. an event which at the time when he was writing had happened twenty years previously. A more positive reason for doubting if the peace of the church was disturbed between 44 and 70 is the fact that, when Paul came for the last time to Jerusalem, the flood of Jewish hatred which was released against him at that time did not rebound in any way on the Christians at Jerusalem. Concerning the internal disposition and attitude of the church towards Gentile converts, there is no doubt that from 44 to 58 the church not only maintained its hostility but increased it. To convince oneself of this it is only necessary to compare the much warmer reception which Paul encountered at Jerusalem in 43-44 with that which he found in 58, when James thought it necessary to take precautionary measures before he came into touch with the faithful.2 The attitude of the church at Jerusalem developed in this way partly through the influence of James but also probably because conversions of Jews which were thus facilitated made the church all the more firmly fixed in this outlook.3 1 Although the collection was something more than an offering of material assistance. See E.P., pp. 262 ff. 2 I shall return to this point in greater detail. See pp. 318 f. 8 Confirmation of the anti-Pauline attitude of the church at Jerusalem is furnished by the fact that it is to her and her leaders to whom the opponents of Paul in Galatia and Greece refer. It is not certain if they were their agents but they certainly reflected their ideas. See pp. 309 ff.

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Although the church at Jerusalem between 44 and 58 became more anti-Pauline, this does not mean, however, that its legalism was so rigorous that it wished to impose the whole of the Jewish law on Gentile converts. As we shall see later on,1 the story in Acts xv combines two things: a tradition concerning the conference at Jerusalem and another tradition concerning a decision taken by the church at Jerusalem at a date, which cannot be accurately given but which is certainly later than the conference, when definite rules were drawn up on the relationship between Christians of Jewish origin and Gentile converts. These rules were purely negative and what was demanded from the Gentiles was to abstain from what was particularly abominable in the eyes of Jews, the eating of things sacrificed to idols, from things strangled, and from blood, i.e. from eating flesh of animals which had not been ritually slaughtered, and lastly from marriages within the degree prohibited by the Jewish law.2 Such a decision showed a modus vivendi rather than any real concessions. Jews would have been able to agree to this. It shows, therefore, a very trifling deviation from Judaism. 5.—THE DEATH OF JAMES

It is not as paradoxical as it might seem at first to see the only bloody deed which is recorded in the history of the church at Jerusalem between 44 and 70, i.e. the execution of James the Just in 62, to be the result of a reconciliation between the church and Judaism. Josephus actually explains his death as due to the jealousy of the high priest, which presumes that James' influence extended beyond the bounds of the Christian community. On the death of James we have two independent sources of evidence, which are difficult to reconcile with each other. The earliest is that of Josephus3 in Book xx. 9, i of Jewish Antiquities. This is what is told there.4 ' The younger Annas, who, as we said, had received the High Priesthood,5 was bold in temperament and remarkably bold in daring. He 1 See p. 303. 2

For my justification of this interpretation of what has been called *the decree of Jerusalem* see p. 307. The text of it is not the same in the Eastern recension as in the Western recension of the book of the Acts. 8 Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 74) thinks that Josephus was a witness of James* death. 4 Translator's note. I am reproducing the English translation of the passage from Eusebius, H.e. ii. 23,21-24, by Kirksopp Lake in Loeb Translations, Eusebius, London, 1926. 6 In 62 after the death of Festus and before the arrival of his successor Albinus.

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followed the sect of the Sadducees, who are cruel in their judgements beyond all the Jews, as we have already explained.1 Thus his character led Annas to think that he had a suitable opportunity through the fact that Festus was dead and Albinus still on the way. He summoned a council of the Sanhedrin, brought before it the brother of Jesus, the so-called Christ2 whose name was James, and some others, on the accusation of breaking the law and delivered them to be stoned. But all who were reputed the most reasonable of the citizens and strict observers of the law were angered at this and sent secretly to the King,3 begging him to write to Annas to give up doing such things, for they said that he had not acted rightly from the beginning. And some of them also went to meet Albinus as he journeyed from Alexandria, and explained that it was illegal for Annas to assemble the council without his permission. Albinus was influenced by what was said and wrote angrily to Annas threatening him with penalties, and for this reason Kong Agrippa deprived him of the High Priesthood when he had held it for three months and appointed Jesus, the son of Dammarus.' The authenticity of this text has been much discussed. Eusebius4 knew it in the form in which we have it; but Origen three times5 speaks of the destruction of Jerusalem as a punishment inflicted on the Jewish people for the murder of James and each time quotes Josephus as his authority. Several critics, however, consider that he only had before him a text which had been edited by a Christian. Schurer6 thinks little reliance can be placed on the text. Zahn7 declares it to be unauthentic. But as Origen does not say from what book he borrows his story, it may well be that he is quoting from memory and that, as Edouard Meyer8 suggests, he is combining the story of James' death with the stories of John Baptist's death and the defeat inflicted by Aretas on Herod Antipas, which Jewish 1

In A. j. xiii. 10, 6, Josephus says that the Pharisees were more indulgent than the Sadducees in applying the law. In xviii. i, 4, he says that, when the Sadducees arrive at the magistrates' courts, in spite of themselves they are obliged to conform to the practice of the Pharisees, because otherwise the people would not support them. * This is consonant with the passage xviii. 3.3, which is certainly unauthentic in the form in which we have it and must have replaced an authentic passage. V. dej.t pp. 58 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 78 ff. 8 Herod Agrippa II, to whom belonged in theory the power of nominating and deposing the high priests, but who in fact acted only in accordance with the wishes 4 of the procurator. Eusebius, H.e. ii. 23, 21-24. 6 Origen, G. Celsum, i. 47; ii. 13; Comm. in Matt., x. 17. • Schurer, Gesch. I, p. 581. 7 Zahn, Bruder und Vetter Jesu, Forsch., 1900, VI, pp. 301 ff. Zahn shows himself very severe on Josephus' evidence because of the confidence with which that 8 of Hegesippus inspires him. Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 73, n. 2 (to p. 74).

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opinion judged to be a divine punishment for the murder of the prophet1 and also with the story of the assassination of Jonathan, which God punished by stirring up the Romans against the Jews.2 Juster sees3 in the story of James' death nothing but a Christian fiction. He compares Josephus' story with John xviii. 31, where the Jews remind Pilate that they do not possess the right to put anyone to death, and notices that Albinus, when he came to take possession of his office, could not help but know the limits of the Sanhedrin's powers. He thinks, therefore, that the text of Josephus in speaking of a Sanhedrin without full power is expressing a Christian fiction. But if the Sanhedrin retained in principle under the rule of the procurators all its rights, why does Josephus never mention its intervention except in the trial of James? Besides it would have been contrary to all the principles of Roman policy and the most elementary prudence not to control and limit the Sanhedrin's powers.4 If the story of James' death in the Jewish Antiquities had come from a Christian pen, would it have contradicted the story told by Hegesippus, which seems to have been very popular in Christian circles?5 There is no reason to question its authenticity.6 It seems difficult to suppose that Roman rule in Judaea fell completely into abeyance during the absence of a procurator. It may well be that the complaint lodged against Annas was that he had not waited for the arrival of Festus' successor and had been satisfied to have the assent of some subordinate official. This would afford a better explanation as to why Albinus exacted only a moderate penalty from Annas. The statement that the enemies of the high priest went for an audience to Albinus is open to suspicion, both because it serves as a double to the story of an audience with Agrippa when he is requested to ask the high priest to be more moderate, and also because it is impossible that Albinus could not have had the most precise knowledge of the extent of his powers. If Annas had committed a flagrant illegality he would have met with something more than bare censure. Every1

2 A.j. xviii. 5, 2. A.j. xx. 8, 5. Juster, Lesjuifs dans VEtnpire romain, Paris, 1914, II, pp. 149 ff. 4 Buchsel, 'Die Blutgerichtbarkeit des Synhedrins', Z.N.T.W., 1931, XXX, pp. 202 ff. Cf. V. de y.9 pp. 406 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 451 ff. Leitzmann's reply to Buchsel ('Bemerkungen zum Prozess Jesu', Z.N.T.W., 1932, XXXI, pp. 78-84). Cf. 'Der Prozess Jesu', S.B.A., 1931, XIV, pp. 9 f. (partly in proof). I do not consider this decisive. See my observations on this subject, 'A propos du proces 5 de J&us', Z.N.T.W., 1932,XXXI, pp. 299-301. Zahn,,Forsch.t VI,pp. 254 ff. 6 Its authenticity is admitted by Salomon Reinach in Oeuvres de Flavins Josephe, IV, p. 283, n. 3. 126 3

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thing is much clearer if we allow the sentence referring to a visit by the Jews to Albinus to be the clumsy gloss of an editor, who believed that the high priest had abused his power and thought that he could not have remained in office without the consent of the procurator. When then Josephus' story is reduced to its essential elements, it tells, as Lietzmann says,1 of a blow struck by force against James by the high priest, which was made possible by the absence of a procurator and was condemned by public opinion, which shows that the high priest must have acted from personal motives rather than anything else. We do not know what accusations were brought against James and those accused with him. Josephus was not badly informed, neither did he not wish to speak of the affair because it concerned Christianity; if this had been so, he simply would have passed over the whole affair in silence. Probably he only considered the incident worth importing because it resulted in the deposition of the high priest. The accusation that he had violated the law was evidently only a pretext, as the protest of the stricter legalists proves. How too could James have been accused of violating the law, when a tradition which was so widely scattered that it cannot be dismissed as pure fiction held him to be a rigorous legalist? If the real motive behind the trial was an attack on the Christian faith,2 then it must be supposed that public opinion was still favourable to the Christians in 62 and would not allow, if it could help it, Christians to be disturbed. But it appears more probable that Ananias and James were rivals in influence. The high priest whose preoccupations were political rather than religious would have been jealous of the popularity enjoyed by James. This is confirmed by the fact that those who perished with him do not appear to have been Christians; otherwise the church at Jerusalem which was not rich in martyrs would have preserved their memory. The second story of James' death in our possession, that of Hegesippus,3 is called by Edouard Meyer4 'fantastic legend devoid 1

Leitzmann, Z.N.T.W., 1932, XXXI, p. 80. As Leitzmann thinks among others (H.t I, p. 189) who considers that he finds justification for his opinion in the fact that James was stoned which was the punishment for blasphemers. 8 Preserved by Eusebius, H.e. ii. 23. Concerning Hegesippus see Zahn, Forsch. VI, pp. 250 ff.; A. Puech, Histoire de la Litterature grecque chretienne, Paris, 1928, II, pp. 265-269. Hegesippus came originally from Palestine and must have been very nearly a contemporary of Irenaeus. He came to Rome round about 164 and wrote his Memoirs between 174 and 189. 4 Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 73, n. 2; Schwartz ('zur Eusebius Kirchengeschichte, I. Das Martyrium des Jakobus des Gerechten', Z.N.T.W., 1903, IV, pp. 48-61) had already criticised him with the same severity. 2

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of any historical value*. Zahn on the other hand1 considers it of so much value that he sacrifices the evidence of Josephus for it. Lastly, Eisler2 has attempted the impossible by trying to harmonise two stories which, beyond the fact that they both record the death of James, have nothing in common. This is how Eusebius tells the story of the martyrdom of James. The Jews made him appear before the people and summoned him to deny his faith in the Christ. Far from giving way James proudly confessed it. The Jews then taking advantage of the fact that Festus had just died could act on their own initiative without the consent of a procurator and so put James to death (ii. 23, 2). After giving this summary, in which he combines details borrowed from Josephus with others which come from Hegesippus, Eusebius recalls that he had previously (ii. i, 4-5) quoted a passage from the seventh book of the Hypotyposes of Clement of Alexandria according to which 'James the Just was hurled from the pinnacle of the temple and beaten with a fuller's stick until he died'. He then quotes an important passage from the fifth book of the Memoirs of Hegesippus concerning the death of James. This is the text given:3 The charge of the Church passed to James the brother of the Lord, together with the Apostles. He was called the 'Just' by all men from the Lord's time to ours, since many are called James, but he was holy from his mother's womb. He drank no wine or strong drink, nor did he eat flesh; no razor went upon his head; he did not anoint himself with oil, and he did not go to the baths. He alone was allowed to enter the sanctuary, for he did not wear wool but linen, and he used to enter alone into the temple, and be found kneeling and praying for forgiveness for the people, so that his knees grew hard like a camel's because of his worship of God, kneeling and asking forgiveness for the people. So from his excessive righteousness he was called the Just and Oblias, that is in Greek Rampart of the people and righteousness, as the prophets declare concerning him. Thus some of the seven sects among the people, who were described before by me (in the Commentaries), inquired of him what was the gate of Jesus, and he said that he was the Saviour. Owing to this some believed that Jesus was the Christ. The sects mentioned above did not believe either in resurrection or in one who shall come to reward each according to his deeds, but as many believed did so because of James. Now, since even many of the rulers believed, there was a tumult of the Jews and the Scribes and Pharisees 1 Zahn, Forsch.y VI, pp. 232 ff.; Dom. Leclercq, 'Jacques le Mineur*, D.A.C.L. VII, col. 2110, implies the same criticism when he judges the story of Hegesippus a to be 'without doubt historical'. Eisler, IHSOYZ, II, pp. 580 ff. 3 ii. 23,4-18, English trans. Loeb. Those passages which Schwartz, Z.N.T.W., 1903, IV, pp. 48-61, finds to be interpolations are printed in italics.

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saying that the whole people was in danger of looking for Jesus as the Christ. So they assembled and said to James, 'We beseech you to restrain the people since they are straying after Jesus as though he were the Messiah. We beseech you to persuade concerning Jesus all who come for the day of the Passover, for all to obey you. For we and the whole people testify to you that you are righteous and do not respect persons. So do you persuade the crowd not to err concerning Jesus, for the whole people and we obey you. Therefore stand on the battlement of the temple that you may be clearly visible on high, and that your words may be audible to all the people, for because of the Passover all the tribes, with the Gentiles also, have come together.' So the Scribes and Pharisees mentioned before made James stand on the battlement of the temple, and they cried out to him and said, 'Oh, just one, to whom we all owe obedience, since the people are straying after Jesus who was crucified, tell us what is the gate of Jesus?' And he answered with a loud voice, 'Why do you ask me concerning the Son of Man? He is sitting in heaven on the right hand of the great power, and he will come on the clouds of heaven.' And many were convinced and confessed at the testimony of James, and said, 'Hosanna to the Son of David', Then again the same Scribes and Pharisees said to one another, 'We did wrong to provide Jesus with such testimony, but let us go up and throw him down that they may be afraid and not believe him'. And they cried out saying, 'Oh, oh, even the just one erred.' And they fulfilled the Scripture written in Isaiah, 'Let us take the just man for he is unprofitable to us. Yet they shall eat the fruit of their works.' So they went up and threw down the Just, and they said to one another, 'Let us stone James the Just', and they began to stone him since the fall had not killed him, but he turned and knelt saying, '/ beseech thee, O Lord, God and Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do\ And while they were thus stoning him one of the priests of the sons of Rechab, the son of Rechabim, to whom Jeremiah the prophet bore witness, cried out saying, 'Stop! What are you doing? The Just is praying for you.' And a certain man among them, one of the laundrymen, took the club with which he used to beat out the clothes, and hit the Just on the head, and so he suffered martyrdom. And they buried him on the spot by the temple, and his grave stone still remains by the temple. He became a true witness both to Jews and Greeks that Jesus is the Christ, and at once Vespasian began to besiege them.

At the end of his story Eusebius insists that intelligent people thought that James* death was the cause of the city's siege which immediately followed1 and then he adds that Josephus also tells of the death of James in Book XX of the Jewish Antiquities and quotes 1 II, 23, 19. He supports his opinion by a quotation from Josephus but gives no indication as to its origin and seems to have borrowed it from Origen.

9

"9

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

his story. Eusebius, who had emphasised Clement's agreement with Hegesippus1 says nothing about the plain contradictions between Josephus and Hegesippus, although they could not have escaped his notice. At the least he could not have been completely convinced of the accuracy of one of the stories quoted by him. Schwartz2 reveals a series of incoherences, repetitions, and contradictions in the narrative of Hegesippus from which he infers that Eusebius had used an interpolated edition of Hegesippus' Memoirs.3 But the story has to be treated with the greatest reserve even after these additions have been excised. What is said of James as high priest is quite impossible. An execution in the temple and a tomb on the very spot where it was performed are so utterly improbable that neither the subtle ingenuity of Zahn4 or of Eisler5 can attenuate it. Even the substance of the story is open to suspicion. How could the enemies of James, being well aware of his ascendancy over the people and his attachment to the Christian faith, hope that he would speak in the tenor desired by them and from a tribune which to say the least of it was peculiar?6 James' declaration about the Son of Man on the right hand of the Great Power recalls too closely the words of Jesus before the Sanhedrin for it to be considered as anything except of literary origin.7 We are here in the presence of an edifying legend, where the author has had no regard for verisimilitude or for chronology.8 1 This agreement proves nothing, as Clement has merely given a summary of Hegesippus' story. a See further back p. 127, n. 2. Joh. Weiss Urchrist., 554, n. i (on p. 555 also) notes the lack of coherence in Hegesippus' story which he explains by supposing that he made use of an older tale and embroidered it. 8 Ad Schlatter, Der Chronograph ausdem zehnten jfahre Antonins, Leipzig, 1894, pp. 76 ff., attempted to extract a coherent story by making a distinction between elements from a reliable source and clumsy emendations made by Hegesippus. His system is ingenious but arbitrary. Martin Dibelius, Der Jakobusbrief, Meyer, XV7, Gottingen, 1921, p. 13, no. 3, also recognises that there must have been some disorder in Hegesippus' text. 4 Zahn (Forsch. CI, pp. 233 f.) suggests that they made James climb up on to one of the porticoes which surrounded the temple court and threw him out of the temple from the side facing the torrent of the Cedron. 5 Eisler (IHSOYZ, II, p. 538) thinks that the text is speaking not of a tomb but a commemorative plaque. • Schwartz, Z.N.T.W., IV, 1903, p. 57, remarks that the pinnacle of the temple is a common feature of both the story of Hegesippus and the story of Jesus' temptation. 7 James* prayer for his executioners calls for the same remark as it is an echo of that of Stephen (Acts vii. 60). 8 Dibelius (yakbr., p. 14) sees in the story of Hegesippus the earliest typical example of a Christian legend of martyrdom. G. Kittel ('Die Stellung des Jakobus

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CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

The two stories of Josephus and Hegesippus contradict each other on all essential points. First the date, Josephus gives 62, Hegesippus immediately before the siege.1 According to Josephus there was a trial; Hegesippus mentions nothing like a trial.2 According to Josephus James was put to death with others; Hegesippus says that he died alone. We have to choose between the two stories. Apart from the absurdities in the story of Hegesippus that of Josephus has the advantage of being connected with a historical fact, the deposition of Annas, and also it is given a precise chronological date, the interval between Festus's death and Albinus' arrival. Josephus' story cannot be accounted for as a Christian fiction, neither can it be explained as a literary creation.3 On the other hand, it is easy to show that Hegesippus' story forms a legend. The religious imagination loves to paint the death of a venerated personage in heroic colours. It makes a martyr of James, although he was not brought to his death on account of his faith, and those who died with him were not Christians.4 From the fact that James appears to have been a dangerous rival to Annas it may be concluded that the church occupied a position of importance at Jerusalem in 62. Since it was only James who was seized by the high priest, James* personal influence not the church's must have alarmed him. The story which Eusebius tells5 following Hegesippus of James being replaced by Simeon, son of Cleopas and the Lord's cousin,6 as bishop of Jerusalem, needs to be treated with great caution. Eusebius introduces it by the formula, 'It is related', which shows that he himself will not guarantee the veracity of what he is going to tell. After James' death and the capture of Jerusalem which followed zum Judentum und Heidenchristentum', Z.N.T.W., 1931, XXX, p. 145) also denies it any historical value. 1 Zahn (Forsch. VI, pp. 234-235) says 66 but this date does not agree with the story of Hegesippus. 2 Eisler (IH20Y2, II, p. 586) tries to harmonise the two versions by the idea that the Sanhedrin, being prevented by the Rome authorities from acting in broad daylight, held a secret session and then in order to execute the sentence feigned a popular outbreak to which the Roman authorities could more easily close their eyes than to a regular execution. 3 The authenticity of the text of Josephus is admitted by Dibelius, Jakbr., p. 13, and by G. Kittel, Z.N.T.W., 1931, XXX, p. 146. 4 There is no doubt that because James* companions in punishment were not Christians the church's tradition has passed them by in silence or forgotten about 5 them. Eusebius, H.e. iii. n, i. 6 He says, 'cousin of the Lord, of whom it is related*. J31

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

it, the apostles1 met together with his kinsfolk according to the flesh of whom the majority were still living to nominate a successor to James. Simeon was chosen because of his kinship to the Lord.2 This tradition was constructed to establish a regular succession of bishops of Jerusalem. It could only have happened at a time when James had died and the legend of the siege of Jerusalem being a punishment for his being put to death had had time to mature. 6.—THE EXODUS OF THE CHURCH IN 70

We have no direct source of information concerning the church's attitude in the troubled period which preceded the siege of Jerusalem,3 although there was an open struggle between the peace party which had at its head men like Gorion, the son of Joseph the Pharisee, Simon son of Gamaliel, the former high priests, Annas and Jesus, and the party of resistance to the death led by John of Gischala. By terror and assassination the Zealots came to dominate the city. Annas and Jesus were assassinated; another leader of their party, Zacharias, the son of Baruch, was brought to trial and just after he had been acquitted was stabbed by his accusers.4 The anachronistic allusion of the gospel tradition to this murder, describing it as the last crime of the Jews after which God would bring on this generation all the innocent blood which had been spilt since that of Abel the Just (Matt, xxiii. 35; Luke xi. 5i),5 shows that the Christians at Jerusalem were not on the side of the Zealots. Schurer6 makes the murder of Zacharias the date of the exodus of the Christian community who in obedience to a revelation left Jerusalem to take refuge at Pella.7 Eusebius says that it took place 'before the war'. 1 It is unnecessary to emphasise the extreme unlikelihood of the presence of the apostles in Jerusalem after 70 or even in 62. 2 Elsewhere (H.e. iv. 22, 4) Eusebius quotes a sentence from Hegesippus which says that 'after the martyrdom of James the Just, Simeon, son of Cleopas, the Lord's uncle, was made second bishop of Jerusalem, being preferred over all the others because he was the Lord's cousin*. 8 See Schurer, Gesch. I, pp. 617 ff.; Lietzmann, H. I, pp. 189 ff. 4 Josephus, G.j. iv. 5, 4. 5 Loisy, Ev. Sym. II, p. 386; WelUiausen, Einleitung in die drei ersten Evangelien*, Berlin, 1911, pp. 118-123; Das Evangelium Matthaei, Berlin, 1904, pp. 119-121; Das Evangelium Lucae, Berlin, 1904, p. 62; Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. I, pp. 234 ff.; Reitzenstein, 'Das mandaische Buch des Herrn des Grosse', S.H.A., 1919, XII, pp. 41 ff.; Bultmann, Gesch., p. 120. Bultmann, however, thinks that the text might be before 70. ' Schurer, Gesch. I, p. 619. 7 Eusebius. H.e. iii. 5, 3. On the possibility of identifying this prophecy with the synoptic apocalypse see V. de J.t pp. 406 ff. and Life of Jesus, p. 428. Cf. Epi132

CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

The revolt broke out in 66 when the rupture with the Romans came to a head, but the exodus could only have taken place in the spring of 68 when Vespasian prepared to lay siege to Jerusalem1 or in that of 70 when the city was effectively besieged by Titus. The latter interpretation recommends itself from the fact that the chapter in which Eusebius relates the exodus of the Christian community begins by mentioning the arrival of Vespasian which took place on ist July 69. The exodus of the Christians does not prove that they had detached themselves from the national aspirations of the Jews and that they were indifferent to the fate of Jerusalem;2 it only proves that they neither shared the sentiments and hopes of the Zealots nor yielded to the tyranny with which they were threatening Jerusalem.3 7.—THE TRADITIONS C O N C E R N I N G THE DESPOSUNOI

Although the traditions collected by Eusebius in the Notebooks of Hegesippus concerning the desposunoi must be used with extreme caution on matters of detail, they help us to gain a good idea of the character of Palestinian Christianity after 70 and to some extent of it previous to that. They show that its views of the future were nationalistic in character and reveal the preponderating role played by the desposunoi in it due as much to their kinship with Jesus as to their Davidic descent. phanius, Haer. xxix. 7; De mensuris et ponderibus, 15. Hoennicke (Das Judenchristentum im ersten und zweiten Jahrhunderten, Berlin, 1908, p. 104) thinks that here Eusebius depends on Hegesippus or Julius the African. This is improbable because he does not quote these two authors as he usually does. Eusebius does not speak only of the departure of the Christians of Jerusalem but of the Christians of Judaea. Such a general exodus seems to have been hardly probable. Cf. Knopf, Nachap. Z.t p. ii. Schwartz (ed. of the Histoire ecclesiastique in the Berlin collection of the Fathers, Leipzig, 1903-9, III, pp. ccxxvi f.) throws doubt upon the historicity of the flight to Pella for reasons which do not appear to be decisive. 1 Upon hearing of Nero's death he resolved to keep all his forces to support his chances of becoming emperor. 2 It would not be quite the same to admit with Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 584) and Lietzmann (H. I, p. 189), that James* murder helped the Christians to resolve to leave Jerusalem. It can hardly be supposed with any plausibility that the two facts harmonise both on account of the interval of time between them and also because the man who put James to death was the high priest Annas who subsequently was one of the leaders of the peace party. 8 Harnack (Mission, II, p. 97) remarks that the exodus of the community was only possible because it must not have been very numerous.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

According to Eusebius1 from the time of Vespasian onwards the Roman authorities had been searching for the descendants of David to put them to death. In another place2 Eusebius says that Domitian gave orders for all those who claimed to be of the race of David to be put to death. He mentions in this connection the two grandchildren of Jude, the Lord's brother.3 The story which he tells about them comes from two sources: (i) an early tradition according to which they were denounced by heretics, and (2) the story of Hegesippus which contains the rest of the story. After the accused had been brought before the Emperor4 they confessed that they were of the lineage of David. They possessed a small farm worth 9,000 denarii which they cultivated themselves, as their hard hands showed and on which they paid tax. They also declared that Christ's kingdom would not be terrestrial but altogether heavenly. Domitian recognised them to be simple and inoffensive people and had them set free.5 A combination of two traditions can be perceived in this story, one concerning measures which were taken against men who would eventually have been able to embody the national aspirations of the Jews and another concerning a persecution which heretics had initiated against the church. To connect these two elements together* somehow or other Eusebius says that after Domitian perceived that Jude's grandchildren were inoffensive persons and released them he gave orders for the persecution to cease. All this lacks consistency. The story may well have originated in nothing else but the tradition that Vespasian took measures against David's descendants and the reflection that the desposunoi must have been victims of them. We can only guess the reasons why this story was placed in the reign of Domitian and not Vespasian. The only fact which can be retained, therefore, is the importance of the part played in the church by the desposunoi. This is confirmed by another 1 Eusebius, H.e. iii. 12, following Hegesippus. It is not said here that the desposunoi were searched and disturbed at that time. Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf. I, p. 73, n. 2) concludes that the idea of the Davidic descent of the family of Jesus did not yet exist. According to him it only appeared between Vespasian and Domitian with Matthew's and Luke's gospels. It is, however, plainly mentioned in Rom. i. 3 in such a form that it seems likely to have been the same in both Hellenistic and Palestinian Christianity. It may well be that Hegesippus has become confused and attributes measures to Domitian which elsewhere he puts down to Vespasian or perhaps that the leaders of the Jerusalem community escaped under Vespasian bea cause they were still at Pella. Eusebius, H.e. iii. 19, 20. 8 According to a fragment of Hegesippus (De Boor, Neue Fragmente des Papias, Hegesippus und Pierius in bisher unbekannten Excerpten aus der Kirchengeschichte des Philippus Sidetes, Leipzig, 1888, p. 169), they were called Zoker and Jacob. 4 5 Eusebius, H.e. iii. 20, 6. Eusebius, H.e. iii. 32, 6.

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CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

passage from Hegesippus,1 according to which the grandsons of Jude, after their liberation, directed the churches until the time of Trajan, both because they were martyrs and because they belonged to the Lord's family. In another place,2 quoting the text of Hegesippus word for word, Eusebius employs the expression, 'they directed the whole church*. Tradition here makes a transposition and amplification. Because the grandsons of Jude at the most directed small Palestine communities it made them the leaders of the whole church. Government by Jude's grandsons is said to have lasted until Trajan's time, although according to Hegesippus himself Simeon's episcopate, the immediate successor of James, lasted the same length of time. There were then several divergent traditions or, as is more probable, men who only shared in the church's government within the framework of a plurinominal episcopacy were thought of as monarchical bishops. Eusebius,3 following Hegesippus, gives the following account of the martyrdom of Simeon, who at the time was 120 years old. Denounced by heretics, both because he was a Christian and also because he was a descendant of David, he was tortured for several days. Atticus, a man of consular rank, with other witnesses of his sufferings were astonished at his resistance. At the end he was crucified.4 Simeon's great age is not the only difficulty contained in this story. The conjunction of two motives for the accusation, Christianity and Davidic descent, must also be added. The tortures suffered by the old man before he died are better explained on the hypothesis that he was accused of Christianity than on the supposition that he was being suppressed as an eventual claimant to a throne. The political motive may well have been an additional cause because of the importance attached to the relationship of the leaders of the church to Jesus and David. There may be some connection between the idea that heretics denounced the bishop Simeon and Jude's grandchildren and the story told by Hegesippus5 concerning a certain Thebutis. Disappointed at not being chosen bishop on James' death, he began to corrupt the church which up to then had remained pure, i.e. pure 1

2 Eusebius, H.e. iii. 20, 6. Eusebius, H.e. iii. 20, 6. Eusebius, H.e. iii. 32, 1-6. 4 Eusebius adds, always following Hegesippus, that subsequently Simeon's accusers were in their turn put to death also because they were descendants of 5 David. Eusebius, H.e. iv. 22, 4-6. 8

*35

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

from heresy, by spreading abroad the errors of the seven Jewish heresies.1 The genealogy of heresies mentioned by Hegesippus in reference to this is pure phantasmagoria; from his story one thing can be retained, i.e. the preference given to the desposunoi in the election of those called to direct the churches stirred up opposition, which, however, it is certain did not altogether arise from disappointed ambitions. We have no means of proving if the rivals of the desposunoi went to such extremes as to denounce them to the Roman authorities. In any case it is best to be reserved on this point, since ecclesiastical tradition always likes to paint heretics in the blackest colours and does not hesitate to attribute to them deeds which call for the greatest censure. It may be that rivalry between the desposunoi and their enemies only served to attract the attention of the Roman authorities. The fact that the heretics who had denounced Simeon were themselves put to death favours this hypothesis. 8.—THE CHURCH

AT J E R U S A L E M AFTER JO

2

Eusebius gives a list of the bishops of Jerusalem which is divided into two parts. The first part contains fifteen names from James to Judas in Hadrian's time. After 134, when Hadrian forbade all Jews to live in Aelia Capitolina, which had been built on the site of the ruins of Jerusalem,3 the composition of the church changed and it had uncircumcised bishops, whose names form the second part of the list. The first was Marcus. Eusebius lists fifteen bishops up to 134. This is a large number, especially if we take into consideration that the second, Simeon, died in Trajan's reign. There would then have been thirteen bishops in succession to him within a period of twenty years, which allows for each bishop an average episcopate of eighteen months. This is very short. Zahn4 thinks that the names of bishops of neighbouring 1

Zeiller (in Lebreton and Zeiller, L'Sglise primitive [Fliche and Martin, Histoire de I'Eglise, I, Paris, 1935], p. 394) sees in Thebutis an extreme Judaiser. This is pure conjecture. 2 Eusebius, H.e. iv. 5. This list is found with some variants in Epiphanius, Haer. Ixvi, 21 f. 8 According to Epiphanius (Haer. xxix. 7) most of the Christians of Jewish race who were compelled to leave Jerusalem emigrated to Transjordania, while some of them went into the other regions of Syria. 4 Zahn, Forsch. VI, p. 300. Johannes Weiss (Urchrist., pp. 561 f.) gives the same explanation. 136

CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

churches have slipped into the list.1 Harnack2 suggests that monarchical episcopacy did not exist at Jerusalem before 134 and reckons the list of bishops to be a list of presbyters. It may be that names of desposunoi have also slipped in. From the time when the Christian community took refuge at Pella, the mist which covers the history of Palestinian Christianity grows still thicker. It will be found that for two or three centuries or a little longer Jewish Christianity remained only as the sect of Ebionitism3 and vegetated, surviving by itself before disappearing, 'obscurely and miserably', as Mgr. Duchesne says.4 Edouard Meyer for his part says, 'The church of Jerusalem on leaving Jerusalem for Pella ceased to have any significance and played no further part'.5 Ebionitism ceased to be a factor in the development of Christianity and for this reason fell into an oblivion, which would have been still more profound, if the fragments which survived to the fourth century had not tickled the curiosity of writers like St. Jerome and Epiphanius who have recorded a few details about it. Most of today's scholars6 suppose that, when peace was reestablished, the Christians who had fled to Pella—or at any rate part of them—returned and settled in the ruins of the city. Mgr. Duchesne, however, thinks that in the sixty years which elapsed from the capture of Jerusalem to the revolt of Barkochba there was nothing at Jerusalem except the camp of the tenth legion Fretensis.1 Josephus says8: Caesar ordered the whole city and the temple to be razed to the ground, leaving only the loftiest of the towers, Phasael, Hippicus, and Mariamne, and the portion of the wall enclosing the city on the west: the latter as an 1 Mgr. Duchesne (H.a. I, pp. 120 f.) who does not allow that the Christians returned to Jerusalem after 70 thinks that it gives the names of bishops of Pella and other colonies of the Jerusalem church. Yet he thinks (p. 119)—what would be more difficult to contradict, cf. Schurer, Gesch. I, pp. 685 f.—that at the time of the revolt of Barkochba the Jews occupied the ruins of the holy city for a period. 2 Harnack, G.a.L. II. i, pp. 221 and Mission, II, p. 96. This is also Schlatter's opinion (Die Kircheyerusalemsvomjahrejo-izo), Gutersloh, 1898, p. 30. Schwartz (ed. of the Histoire ecclesiastique, III, p. ccxxvi) and Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 585, n. i) consider the list to be without value. 3 Harnack (Dgsch., I4, p. 330) asks if the term * Jewish Christianity* should be kept for Ebionitism after 70. But Ebionitism is not a late appearance. It is the survival of a type of Christianity which existed well before 70. 4 5 Duchesne, H.a. I, p. 127. Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 585. 6 Harnack, Mission, II, p. 97; Knopf, Nachap. Z., p. 12; Hoennicke, Judenchristentum, pp. 105 rT. and especially Schlatter, Die Tage Trojans und Hadrians, Gutersloh, 1897; Die Kirche Jerusalem* von 70-130, Gutersloh, 1898. 7 Duchesne, H.a. I, p. 118. 8 Josephus, G.j. vii. i, i. [I am quoting from Loeb Eng. trans.]

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

encampment for the garrison that was to remain,1 and the towers to indicate to posterity the nature of the city and of the strong defences which had yet yielded to Roman prowess. All the rest of the wall encompassing the city was so completely levelled to the ground as to leave future visitors to the spot no ground for believing that it had ever been inhabited.

This passage from Josephus is not as decisive evidence as Mgr. Duchesne thinks; he mentions the order to destroy the city but only tells of the destruction of the ramparts. The statement that it was no longer possible to guess that Jerusalem had ever been an inhabited place need not be taken literally. The three towers remaining with part of the rampart sufficed to show that it had been a large city. The very importance of the Roman garrison left at Jerusalem must have required a large number of people dwelling round the Roman camp. Something remained or was reconstructed which was occupied by the insurgents in the course of the revolt of Barkochba2 and had to be recaptured by the Romans.3 Eusebius seems to be nearer the truth than Josephus when he speaks of half the city being destroyed by Titus and the remainder by Hadrian.4 He states5 that right up to the time when the city was besieged by Hadrian there was at Jerusalem a very large Christian church. Epiphanius reports6 that when Hadrian entered Jerusalem, there was among the city's ruins a synagogue and on Mount Zion a little church. These pieces of evidence cannot be put on one side, although the description of the church as Very large' must be treated with reserve, unless it must be understood in a moral and not a material sense, as must also Epiphanius' identification of the church of Zion with the upper room where the apostles were reunited after the ascension.7 There is evidence for the presence of Jewish Christians in various districts bordering on Palestine.8 It may be that they came 1 Josephus, G.j. vii. i, 2, says that attached to the tenth legion were some squadrons of cavalry and cohorts of infantry. 2 Schurer, Gesch. I, pp. 685 ff. * Schurer, Gesch. I, p. 691. 4 Eusebius, Dem. evang. vi. 18, 10. See also other texts which have been reunited together by Schurer, Gesch. I, p. 692, n. 126. 5 Eusebius, Dem. evang. iii. 5, 10. 6 Epiphanius, De mensuris et ponderflnis, xiv. i. Cf. Haer. xxix. 7. 7 For the traditions referring to this church see Dom Leclerq, 'Cenacle', D.A.C.L., II, cols. 3032-3037. 8 Epiphanius (Haer. xxix. 7. Cf. xviii. i; xxx. 2, 18; xi. i) names the Basanitides and the Batanaea as places where Jewish Christians were to be found in his time, whom he supposes to be descended from the refugees at Pella but the fact that Ebionites lived in those regions in the fourth century does not prove that they had been there since the end of the first.

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CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

to them for the same or similar reasons as those which compelled the Christians of Jerusalem to take refuge at Pella or perhaps they gradually left the country which belonged to the Jews or on account of the hostility which they met in it. Apart from Symmachos, the translator of the Old Testament, the Ebionites do not seem to have produced any writer. According to Eusebius,1 Origen held from a certain Juliana who had inherited them from Symmachos some notes written by him on the Scriptures and Notebooks in which he had discussed Matthew's gospel, doubtless to prove that the gospel belonging to his own sect was superior. As for Hegesippus, in spite of his Palestinian origin and the peculiar interest taken by him in the chufrch at Jerusalem, he belongs to the great church. Otherwise, Eusebius2 would not have said that he had collected in the five books of his Notebooks 'the pure tradition of the apostolic preaching*. He tells us nothing about the peculiar ideas of the Ebionites. 9.—EBIONITISM

Their ideas then are only accessible through the writers of the great church who only had a superficial knowledge of them and were not really interested in their theology. The first one to mention them is Justin Martyr.3 He distinguishes two groups among them. He refuses to describe as Christians those of them who claimed to impose the Jewish law on all believers and considers that they were excluded from salvation. On the other hand, those who did not deny concessions to believers who do not observe the law were saved. Justin also knows that some of them see in Christ simply a man, the offspring of men, Svdpa)TTov e£ dvOpa>7ra)v yevo^vov (48, 4), i.e. they deny the pre-existence and supernatural birth, believing that Jesus has become Messiah by election and choice (avOpwnov yeyovevai avrov /cat /car' e/cAoyjp Ke^piarai /cat Xpiarov yeyovevat) (49, i), which Tryphon observes agrees with the Jewish conception of the Messiah.4 1

2 Eusebius, H.e. vi. 17. Eusebius, H.e. iii. 8, i. 8 Justin, Dial, xlvii-xlix. In speaking of those who attribute to Christ a wholly human origin in chapter xlviii, Justin describes them as being of ourgenos. Some early commentators, like Neander, because they did not wish to think that Justin permitted heretics to be Christians corrected 'our' to 'y°ur>- This correction would be permissible if the word genos could be understood to mean 'race*. The result would be that as Justin in Dial. Ixxxii speaks of 'false doctors among us* it must be supposed that he does not consider heretics to be outside the church. 4

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

Irenaeus adds to this information1 that those who profess this christology are called Ebionites. Like Justin he says that they deny the virgin birth and affirm the necessity of observing the law. He claims that they only use Matthew's gospel2 and reject Paul's epistles. Origen3 gives almost the same information; he considers that the Ebionites differ very little from Jews.4 He remarks, however, that some of them believe in the supernatural birth.5 Eusebius6 distinguishes two groups, who were both equally attached to the law, but one of them denied the supernatural birth while the other affirmed it but rejected completely the idea of pre-existence, which, §ays Eusebius, makes them as impious as the other group. Both consider Paul an apostate and reject his epistles.7 Eusebius adds that they use the gospel of the Hebrews only and think little of the other gospels and that they observe the Sabbath and also keep Sunday like other Christians in memory of the Saviour's resurrection.8 With Epiphanius and St. Jerome9 we come to the time when information becomes more circumstantial but more confused as well as more difficult to interpret. They do not refer to anything more than fragments of groups of Jewish Christians who had survived up to the fourth century. According to Epiphanius they were quite strongly influenced by sects of Jewish heretics. What matters most is to grasp the relationship between Ebionitism and the Christianity of the first generation. The reality of this 1

Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. i, 26, 2; iii. u, 7; 21, i; iv. 33; v. i, 3. In reality a gospel akin to Matthew's. 3 Origen, C. Celsum, ii. i; v. 61, 65; Deprincipiis, iv. 22; Horn, in Genesim, iii. 5; injerem. xvii. 12; in Matt. 16, 12; 17, 12. 4 /ouScuot ical 01 dAi'y Sia€povT€s avraiv "Eftuiwalol Comm. in Mt., xi, 12 (Ed. Benz-Klostergmann, Leipzig, 1935, p. 52). 5 6 Origen, C. Celsum, v. 61. Eusebius, H.e. iii. 27. 7 Among the Ebionites appeared the story reported by Epiphanius (Haer. xxx. 16, 25) according to whom Paul's enemies hawked about a story that he was a Greek by birth and had himself circumcised out of love for the high-priest's daughter but because she repelled him he harried the Jewish people with his hatred. 8 We do not think that the pseudo-clementine writings and their grundschift must be classified with the sources concerning early Ebionitism in spite of the hypothesis developed on this subject, particularly by O. Cullman, Leprobleme litteraire et historique du romain pseudo-dementin, Paris, 1930 (see my observations on his book in Revue de philologie, LXIX, 1933, pp. 105-109). Schwartz, 'Unzeitgemasse Beobachtungen zu den Clementinen', Z.N.T.W., 1932, XXXI, pp. 151-199) seems to me to have presented with force the reasons there are for considering the Pseudoclementine writings to be a romance without any historical value direct or indirect. 9 Epiphanius, Haer. xviii. i; xxix. 7; xxx. 2-18, 20, 34; xl. i; Jerome, Ep. ad August., 112, 13. Jerome's evidence is important for what it says about the Jewish Christian gospels concerning which there is a certain confusion elsewhere. See on this subject my book J.-B., Paris, 1928, pp. 163 ff. 2

I40

CHURCH AT JERUSALEM AFTER 44

relationship is first of all established by the name or names belonging to the group. In the second and third centuries the name is Ebionites1 to which in the fourth century was added that of Nazarenes. The word ebionim (the poor) is a biblical Hebrew word and not Aramaic; it expresses a religious ideal and does not refer to indigent people but to those who feel detached from the world.2 The community at Jerusalem called itself by this name3 and the Jewish Christians kept it because it meant for them a link between themselves and the primitive church, although it is quite certain that the Greek Christians never possessed it. The very fact that this name was not given to Christians outside Jerusalem shows as James Weiss says that it was 'a relic of a very early period'.4 Nothing shows better the distance separating the Ebionites from the great church than this simple fact. What they considered to be a name of which they could be proud became in the eyes of the Greek Fathers a mark of heresy and in those of Eusebius a sign of intellectual poverty. The term Nazarene used by Epiphanius to designate a particular group of Jewish Christians has quite a different origin.5 The heresy of the Nazarenes (Acts xxiv. 5) seems to have been the earliest designation given to Christianity by the Jews. The Greek church was led by the way in which its christology developed to prefer to retain the name * Christians', which was first used by strangers to the faith (Acts xi. 26). Christians from all quarters appropriated a name which originally was used as a term of abuse. Those who treated of heresy forgot the origin and meaning of the terms, Ebionites and Nazarenes, and indulged in venturesome etymology. The terms formed a link between Palestinian primitive Christianity 1 Certain Fathers (Hippolytus, Philosophoumena, vii. 34; x. 22; Tertullian, De praescr. haer., 33; De came Christi, ii; Epiphanius, Haer. xxx. i) supposed the word Ebionites to be derived from the founder of the sect, Ebion, who had published his ideas among the refugees at Pella. Almost alone among recent critics, Hilgenfeld, Judentum und Judenchristentum, Leipzig, 1886, p. 101) still believes in the existence of Ebion. For a discussion of this question see Hoennicke, Judenchristentum, pp. 229 f. Eusebius (H.e. iii. 27) explains the name Ebionites as due to the poverty of the thought of these heretics. 'Their name*, he says, 'well suits the poverty of their thought.' 2 Cf. Ps. Sal, 5, 2; 10, 7; 16, 2. Cf. Wellhausen, Ev. Mt., p. 14. Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 569. A. Causse, Les pauvres d'Israel, Strasbourg, Paris, 1922. 8 Gal. ii. 10; Rom. xv. 26. Perhaps also Minucius Felix, Octavius, 36; Holl, Ges. Aufs. II, p. 60; Schwartz, Z.N.T.W., 1932, XXXI, p. 190. * Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 569. Weiss notes with reason that the fact that the fathers give divergent explanations of the name, Ebionites, proves the archaic character of this designation. 5 See J. de N.,pp. 64 ff., concerning the relationship which Epiphanius falsely established between the Christian Nazarenes and a Jewish sect of Nazarenes.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

and the sects of Jewish Christians. This is shown by the heresies themselves of which the Fathers accuse the Ebionites. The Ebionite christology which denies the supernatural birth is a survival from an early stage in the development of christology belonging to the time when the earliest version of the story of the baptism took shape.1 It is not so much that the Ebionites differed from the great church as that the thought of the great church underwent development if not transformation.2 Something must be said of the attitude of the Ebionites towards the law. They did not innovate3 but remained fixed in the attitude taken up at the first by the church at Jerusalem against Paul and the men of Antioch. The Fathers have been just as inaccurate in saying that the Ebionites rejected Paul's epistles. The truth is, that on this also, they remained fixed in the attitude common to all before these epistles existed or before they had yet been collected together into a corpus. They lived out of touch with the great church and even in opposition to it being unable to accept the idea that the law had been superseded. They kept on using a gospel which they had composed themselves or had adapted for themselves, and had no knowledge of the gospel canon of the Greek church. The Ebionites were not innovators but traditionalists who refused to subscribe to the hellenisation of Christianity; their group was a fragment of primitive Christianity in an air-tight case, protected completely from the influence of Greek Christianity.4 This does not mean that it underwent no change at all. Left behind on the edge of Palestine, in regions where Jewish sects of a heretical and more or less synchretistic nature flourished, it submitted to 1

See my book, jf.-B.t pp. 139 ff. * Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 570. This is not quite true if we agree with various writers: Schlatter, Dir Kirche Jerusalem* vom Jahre 70-130, pp. n f.; Knopf, Nachap. Z., pp. 16 ff., that the Ebionites returned to rabbinic discussion. According to various Talmudic texts (the texts and translation of these are to be found in Strack, Jesus die Haeretiker und die Christen nach den aeltisten judischen Angaben, Leipzig, 1910, pp. 4ff., 23 ff.* R. Eliezer was accused of heresy and trying to find an explanation for this accusation remembers that, when he was discussing a question of the law (Is it right to use money from prostitution for building latrines for the high priest?), he had made the mistake of expressing pleasure at a maxim which Jacob of Cephas Sekhanja, a Christian, said came from Jesus and of giving it his approval. Schurer (Gesch. II, p. 372) thinks this story a legend. It would be only wise to accept it with reserve. If it is historically true it would be of interest, especially on the point of view felt by Jews towards Christians. To give it the meaning attributed to it by Schlatter and Knopf we should have to prove that Jacob of Cephas Sekhanja did not quote the maxim solely in order to embarrass Eliezer. 4 Johannes Weiss, Urckrist, pp. 595 ff.; Meyer, Urspr. u. An}. Ill, p. 595; Schwartz, ZJV.T.JF., 1932, XXXI, pp. 191 ff. 8

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their influence all the more easily because its doctrine was rudimentary and lacked form and structure. In the surviving fragments of the gospels of the Jewish Christians when they are compared with the canonical gospels and in particular with Matthew's, we usually find a few variants which have no significance1 or disclose an attachment to James, the Lord's brother.2 The gospel of the Hebrews, however, contains a version of the story of the baptism, which has some interesting peculiarities.3 When Jesus comes out of the water, the whole fount of the Holy Spirit (fans omnis spiritus sancti) comes down and rests upon him, saying to him, 'My Son, I have been waiting for your coming in all the prophets in order that I might dwell in you. You are my firstbegotten Son4 who reigns for ever.' The conception contained here has been influenced by gnosticism; there is no trace of sonship or adoption. The Holy Spirit is a Power who seeks to incarnate himself and succeeds in doing so in Jesus.5 In the gospel of the Ebionites6 John Baptist instead of eating locusts (dfeplSe?) and wild honey (Mark i. 3, 4)' eats 'wild honey, which tastes like a fritter in oil'. The assonance of the words a/c^Se? and eyKpls shows that the author wishes >to touch up the traditional text by altering it as little as possible to adapt it to an ascetic vegetarianism.8 Elchasaism9 is interesting as showing the importance 1 Such an example is the fragment of the gospel of the Hebrews preserved by St. Jerome (in Mt. xii. 13) where the man with the withered hand, whose healing is told by Matthew (xii. 9-13) accosts Jesus and says to him, 'I was a mason, I gained my livelihood with my hands, I pray you, Jesus, make me whole, in order that I may not be put to the shame of begging for my bread*. 2 e.g. the story of the appearance of the risen Jesus to James. See p. 43. 8 We know of it through Jerome, (in Jes. 11, 2). 4 The term filius primogenitus must not be interpreted to imply a supernatural birth. The word spirit (ruah) is feminine in the Semitic languages. Cf. the fragment of the gospel of the Hebrews preserved by Origen (in Joh.t t. ii. 12), 'My mother, the holy Spirit, took me by one of my hairs and transported me to the great moun8 tain, Tabor*. Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 575. 6 The text is preserved by Epiphanius, Haer. xxx. 13. 7 A detail missing in Luke and in Tatian's Diatessaron, ii, possibly for similar reasons to those which have determined the transposition to be noticed in the gospel of the Nazarenes. 8 How wide this tendency was in primitive Christianity is shown by Gre*goire, Les sauterelles de saint Jean-Baptiste, Byzantion, 1929-30, V, pp. 109-128. 9 The principal sources of information for Elchasai and elchasaism are: Hippolytus, Philosophoumena, ix. 13-17; x. 29 and Epiphanius, Haer. xix, xxx, liii. The prophet's activity began a little before 101; his book was drawn up in 116. It was brought to Rome about 200 by Alcibiades of Apamaea who tried to propagate the sect and was opposed by Hippolytus. Concerning elchasaism see H. Waitz, in Hennecke, Neut. Apokr., pp. 422 ff.; Lietzmann, H. I, pp. 197 ff.

H3

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

which people who had become Ebionites attached to gnostic speculations. Elchasai lived in Transjordania. He claimed to have had a vision in which Christ appeared to him looking like a giant with the Spirit by his side having the figure of a woman. He considers Christ to be the Great King, the son of the Great God, and to have had a series of successive incarnations. Elchasai observed the Jewish law but rejected animal sacrifices. He taught that as the world was shortly coming to an end God was offering to sinners a last chance of salvation by means of a second baptism together with the invocation of the seven elements.1 In addition to this he taught cosmological speculations from which he deduced a distinction between lucky and unlucky days. Ebionitism and Elchasaism have certain elements in common but a synchretistic gnosticism had influenced the latter more strongly than the former.2 According to Epiphanius and St. Jerome all that the Ebionites did in the way of writing was to reproduce and combine what they received from previous writers. There is no doubt that Jewish Christianity was dead and finished soon after the fourth century without having brought any appreciable influence to bear on the development of Christianity after the fall of Jerusalem. Some of its adherents were compelled in the end to join neighbouring catholic communities while the rest were left to be absorbed in synchretistic sects. Ebionitism is a religion which missed its way because it never succeeded in making the principle which gave birth to it independent and strong. Why did it fail to do so? Because, unlike Paulinism, it never possessed the conviction that the Christ was present and active. It considered Jesus to be the teacher who was to return to save and reign in the new world which he was to establish. As soon as the conviction that the world was soon coming to an end disappeared, it3 could only consider him a master of wisdom, while even in this respect his importance was perceptibly dwarfed by the absolute authority which the Jewish law continued to exercise. In these circumstances Christianity ran the risk of being nothing more than a theme for cosmological speculation, as is shown by Elchasai 1

The sky, water, the holy spirits, the angels of prayer, oil, salt and earth. According to Lietzmann (H. I, p. 197) elchasaism had no influence on Jewish Christianity and is only interesting as a symptom of the influence of gnosticism in Syria. According to Meyer, on the other hand (Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 599) it had a direct influence on Ebionitism. 8 The Fathers make no reference to the eschatology of the Ebionites. The fact may not be without significance, although the limited amount of evidence at our disposal does not allow us to draw any precise conclusions. 2

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and in a lesser degree in the story of the baptism in the gospel to the Hebrews. Ebionite christology remained rudimentary for other reasons beside the fact that it failed to enjoy benefits which the doctrine of the logos conferred on Greek Christian thought. For the Ebionites could have found in their own environment material likely to stimulate speculation. Greek christology set out to explain the fact of redemption. For that reason, in spite of the speculative form it had to assume, it always preserved a sense of religious values which proved a rampart of defence for Greek Christianity against those forces which might have transferred it into a philosophy. Ebionite christology, because it had no real religious character and content, developed perforce into mere speculation and instead of making Ebionitism permanent facilitated its absorption into synchretism. 10.—JEWISH CHRISTIANS AND HERESIES

Further on1 we shall see that there seems to have been quite an important emigration of Christians from Palestine to Asia. It is certain that this must explain why Paul was so little remembered and his influence so weak in this province in the second century. These emigrants appear to have belonged to the party following the apostles. Edouard Meyer,2 however, thinks that he can find a polemic directed against powerful threats from Jewish Christianity in the pastoral epistles and in Ignatius. A passage in the epistle to Titus (i. 10-16) speaks of speculations and Jewish practices.3 After having said that the bishop must be capable of teaching sound doctrine and refuting heretics, the epistle goes on as follows: For there are many unruly and vain talkers and deceivers, specially they of the circumcision: whose mouths must be stopped, who subvert whole houses, teaching things which they ought not, for filthy lucre's sake. . . . Wherefore rebuke them, sharply, that they be sound in the faith; not giving heed to Jewish fables, and commandments, of men, that turn from the truth. Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure: but even their mind and their conscience are defiled.

The passage refers to some speculative theory4 which involved fasting and abstinence. But while the author says that these doctrines 1 2 See p. 259, n. 2. Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 587. 8 The same tendencies perhaps are at work in Titus, iii. 9; i Tim. i. 4

4; vi. 3 f. No doubt concerning genealogies of angels and aeons (because of Titus, iii. 9

and i Tim., i. 4).

10

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

prevailed among those of the circumcision, they must not have been purely Jewish. The prohibitions hinted at cannot have been those of the law since they are described as commandments of men. Ignatius opposes heretics with vehemence and describes the thought and practices of some of them as * Judaism': but we do not know exactly what the word connotes. Ignatius* mind is neither accurate or robust. With him protestations of loyalty to sane doctrine and invective against heresy take the place of argument. Ignatius came in contact with various groups of heretics; it is just as impossible to enumerate and define them as to determine to what in each of them his polemics refer. We can only discover with a measure of approximation traces of Jewish heresy. In the epistle to the Magnesians after vituperating against heterodoxies and futile myths Ignatius describes heresy as a way of life according to Judaism, but he makes no allusion to anything concrete except the observance of the sabbath and not Sunday (9. i). When Ignatius describes the heresies of Judaisers as myths, does he mean the kind of speculations referred to in i Tim. i. 4 and Titus iii. 9 or is he only using a term of abuse to which we must not give too precise a meaning? He indulges in a polemic concerning the observance of the sabbath in which he describes those who do so as persons who deny the resurrection. Is there anything more in this beyond the fact that Sunday is essentially a commemoration of the resurrection? We cannot decide. In chapter vi of the epistle to the Philadelphians readers are put on their guard against preachers of Judaism but there is no reference to circumcision or to observing the law, although Ignatius declares that it would be better to hear Christianity preached by a circumcised person than judaised by an uncircumcised person. He may be concerned here with a Judeaohellenic gnosis such as that described in the epistle to the Colossians. The same epistle contains a passage, the text of which is uncertain and the meaning obscure but it seems according to the most probable interpretation to be concerned with judaising heretics. Ignatius exhorts his readers to do nothing in a spirit of contentiousness but to act as if they had learnt of Christ (Kara Xpicrrop, Qiav). Some people say, 'If I do not find it (as for certain what is taught in the church) in the documents I do not believe it belongs to the faith of the Gospel*. The documents here in question must be the books of

i46

CHURCH AT J E R U S A L E M AFTER 44

the Old Testament.1 To those who demand in this way scriptural proofs, Ignatius first of all replies, 'It is written', i.e. proofs exist, but when his interlocutors doubt him and say that that is just the question, Ignatius breaks off the discussion and declares that for him, 'the irrefutable proofs are Jesus Christ, his cross and resurrection* (8. 2). He is engaged with Christians who were attached to Judaism and more than ordinarily struck by certain contradictions between the Old Testament and the Gospel. Perhaps too the passage may reflect the impression which certain Jewish objections had made on some members of the church. The heresies fought by Ignatius and labelled as Judaism seem to have sprung up under the influence of Jews rather than Jewish Christians.2 If Jewish dynastic Christianity appeared in Asia it met with resistance as is proved by the way in which the legend of James being high priest is countered by that of John being high priest.3 The fact is that the foundations of Greek Christianity were so strong from the beginning that they could never be called in question. The most that Jewish Christian influence could do was to inspire certain communities, notably that from which the Book to the Seven churches emerged, with a lively hatred for the Nicolaitanes,4 who had in fact developed a tradition which they had received from Paul and claimed that they had freed themselves from the last relics of Jewish ritualism. II.—THE SIGNIFICANCE OF JEWISH CHRISTIANITY

In the synthesis formed by primitive Catholicism only one element can be imagined to have had its origin in dynastic Christianity. This is monarchical episcopacy: James, i.e. the James described by the tradition, seems to have been its first representative.5 But 1

For the reasons which lead us to prefer this interpretation to interpreting it as referring to the record of the trial of Jesus. See my book, J. de N., p. 94. 2 Schwartz (Z.N.T.W., 1932, XXXI, p. 191) thinks that there were Jewish Christian influences at work in Asia but that they were quickly absorbed. 8 See p. 132, n. 4. 4 See my study, 'Les Nicolaites', R.h.r. 1937, CXV, pp. 1-36. There are reasons for thinking that the group to which the author of the Book to the Seven churches referred may have only represented a minority but its influence was extensive compared with its numbers. This fact may have been one of the reasons why the memory of Paul declined in Asia. 8 There is a certain affinity between the idea of apostolic succession and of the dynasty of the desposunoi. 147

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

there is no exact reason for supposing that a direct connection existed between them and such resemblances as exist can be explained by the fact that similar causes were at work in both cases.1 Dynastic Christianity contributed nothing to primitive Catholicism because, when Christianity shifted its centre of gravity to the Greek world, it discarded all the forms which linked its fate to that of Judaism. Doubtless the process would have been less rapid and not so complete if the events of 66-70 and the national catastrophe which struck Judaism had not intervened. Christianity did not see in these events a misfortune brought about by unfavourable political circumstances but judged them to be God's punishment for a nation which had refused to recognise the Messiah and had had him put to death.2 The tradition preserves Jesus' harsh words about Jerusalem, and his prediction of its destruction;3 it reduces his ministry at Jerusalem to a brief series of conflicts, and, above all, attributes sole responsibility to the Jews for the death of Jesus. All this amounts to a condemnation of the Jewish people which assured for Christianity definite autonomy and made Jewish Christianity an obsolete religion. Jewish Christians turned from the offensive to a defensive position in A.D. 70. When they ceased trying to impose their way of looking at things on Greek Christians they lost one of the forces which had galvanised them into life.4 As Judaism crystallised and became identified with Pharisaism keeping itself hostile to every form of Christianity, Judaising Christians were placed in a delicate and precarious position.5 The turn taken by events was unfavourable to Jewish Christianity. But it disappeared because it contained within itself the seeds of its own decay. It was not viable and failed to grasp the new object of devotion, i.e. the heavenly Christ, in such a way as to ensure its autonomy beside the God of Judaism. When Jewish Christianity ceased to think that Messiah was going to come or at any rate relegated his coming to a nebulous future, it could only think of Christ as the revealer of wisdom from on high or as an object of cosmological speculation. In other circumstances Jewish Christianity might perhaps have been the means of a revival of Judaism; the hostility displayed by Judaism after 70 made this impossible. It could not become a new religion because it was powerless to divest its main principle of its Jewish clothes. 1

See E.P., pp. 86 ff. * Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 584. 8 There is no reason to doubt the authenticity of these words. 4 5 Hoennicke, Judenchristentum, p. 241. Ibid., p. 243. 148

CHAPTER III

Apostolic Christianity After A.D. 44 I.—PETER AT ANTIOCH. THE INCIDENT BETWEEN HIM AND PAUL

THE situation arrived at in 44 when Peter had to leave Jerusalem was never subject to question afterwards. Neither he nor any of the Twelve appeared ever to have returned to Jerusalem. It may be because the situation gradually created there and firmly established by Peter's departure made it impossible for him to try and resume the direction of the church. Or perhaps he may have recoiled at the idea of a struggle, the issue of which would be doubtful and which in any case would be prejudicial to the church's interests. Or again perhaps he may have found himself at Antioch, where he seems to have stayed quite a long time, absorbed in activities which gave his life a new orientation. Peter had the reputation of being a missionary right from the time of the conference at Jerusalem; he was conceived to have been entrusted before anyone else with the mission of preaching the gospel to the Jews (Gal. ii. 7, 8). The events of 44 may conceivably have had the effect of releasing him—somewhat against his will, it is true—from the direction of the church at Jerusalem, and of allowing him to give himself up completely to missionary work in districts where Jews lived and to extend his travels still further. This last supposition receives perhaps some confirmation from the tradition which states that the apostles on the Lord's orders first of all remained twelve years in Jerusalem before they scattered themselves across the world to preach the gospel everywhere.1 This, however, has no absolute value, as it may well have sprung up to put an interpretation favourable to Peter on what was in reality a check in his career. We noted in the preceding chapter2 the traces left in the gospel tradition of an attack on the desposunoiy which could only have arisen and grown in a group attached to the Twelve. This attack, 1

See pp. 108 f.

* See pp. 112 f.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

however, only characterises one aspect of the relationship between the group of the apostles and the dynastic group. In spite of the friction generated between them they are only variants of the same type of Christianity. What separated them was less important than what united them. We can see this in their attitude towards Paulinism, in face of which, except for some fleeting differences, they realised a true common front. We have two accounts of the conference of 43-44, which are very unequal in value, one from the epistle to the Galatians (ii. i-io) and the other from the book of the Acts (iv. 1-29). They do not suggest even a shade of difference between the attitude of James on the one hand and that of Peter and John on the other. Later on, while Peter was living at Antioch, he found it possible, on grounds of expediency rather than principle and under the influence of his new environment, to agree to important concessions such as eating with believers of Gentile origin, who had remained uncircumcised. This no doubt meant celebrating the Lord's Supper with them. But we are not to suppose that his attitude had in any way fundamentally changed from that taken up at the first by the church at Jerusalem, when some of James* party went to Antioch and Peter not wishing to wound their susceptibilities cut off his relations with the Gentiles.1 When afterwards efforts were made to judaise the churches founded by Paul with ensuing crises in Galatia and Corinth, Paul's enemies appear to have claimed Peter and the other apostles as well as James and the authorities of the church of Jerusalem to have been behind them. How far were they authorised to do this? Had they really been sent by them? Paul does not seem to be quite clear on this point; he is always certain that those who were working against him in Galatia and Greece knew that their motives were akin in spirit to the attitude of Peter and James which Paul thoroughly understood. Peter and James may not have taken the initiative in going and attacking Paul on his own ground and they may even have judged their partisans' zeal to have been inopportune but they were all united in opposition to Paul's negative attitude towards the law. The check received by Peter in 44 opened up for him a new sphere of activity. It enabled him to have a much more lasting and profound influence on the general development of Christianity than if he had remained in Jerusalem, where he would have had no 1 Possibly he intended to take them back after the partisans of James had departed.

15°

APOSTOLIC CHRISTIANITY AFTER 44

contact with Greek communities and would have been isolated within the framework of Judaism. Concerning Peter's activity after he left Jerusalem we are limited in direct and certain information to the account of Galatians ii if. which tells of his stay at Antioch.1 This seems to have been quite long in duration and to have been extended owing to his influence there. It is shown by the fact that Barnabas and the Christians of Jewish origin at Antioch followed his example and also by the fact that tradition makes out that he founded the church there and became its first bishop.2 At the time of the occurrence which set Peter and Paul at loggerheads with each other the situation at Antioch had changed since the first visit of the Judaeans on the eve of the conference. Paul's dominating preoccupation then was to safeguard his missionary work by opposing the demand that converted Gentiles should be compelled to accept circumcision. He appears to have had no fears that the Christians at Antioch had allowed themselves to be influenced by his enemies. He was thus not so much advocating his personal views as defending the position of the church at Antioch. He was fighting to safeguard 'the liberty which we enjoy in Christ' to quote his own expression (Gal. ii. 4). But when the incident took place which it is certain happened on his return from his first long missionary journey the situation had completely changed. Paul was now filled with dread to see the Gentile Christians of Antioch impressed by the changed attitude of Peter and Barnabas and accepting Jewish practices in the belief that without them they would remain only half-Christian and deprived of real assurance of salvation. Only Peter's influence and his missionary activity could have made possible this change in the situation at Antioch. The epistle to the Galatians (ii. 7-8) shows that Peter's missionary activities had been to the Jews only. Peter's converts had not formed a Judaising community of their own apart from the original church at Antioch but had somewhat modified its 1

The text of the epistle to the Galatians does not say that Peter came to Antioch as soon as he had left Jerusalem. 2 The Chronicon of Eusebius (year from Abraham 2055 in the Armenian translation, ed. Karst, p. 214; 2058 in the Latin version of Jerome, ed. Helm, p. 179), attributes to Peter the foundation of the church at Antioch, but it names Evodius as the first bishop (year from Abraham 2058 in the Armenian translation, ed. Karst, p. 215; 2060 in the Latin version of Jerome, ed. Helm, p. 179). In the Ecclesiastical History (iii. 36, 2) Eusebius speaks of Ignatius as the second after Peter to succeed to the bishopric of Antioch. Origen (Horn. VI in Lucam Delarue, III, p. 938) says the same thing. Jerome (ad. Gal.t ii. n and De viris inl. i) makes him the first bishop of Antioch.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

spirit and shifted its centre of gravity. The new converts who had come from Judaism participated in the common life of the church and in all probability had no precise idea of the conditions which the Jewish law laid upon the Gentiles. The situation at Antioch seems thus to have become somewhat confused and this explains the logical contradiction in Peter's conduct when the partisans of James arrived. It may be that Peter left Antioch to escape the troubled atmosphere which the incident unavoidably created. We cannot know for certain, since, as we shall see,1 the church appears to have ranged itself on his and Barnabas' side and not on Paul's. It seems more probable that we cannot determine when Peter left Antioch2 because, in accordance with the principle which inspired the missionaries of the first generation, he wanted always to go in advance. The way in which Paul speaks of the apostles, the brothers of the Lord and Peter as missionaries shows that Peter had a roving commission (i Cor. ix. 5). We do not know where Peter went when he left Antioch. The traditions that he contributed to the foundation of churches at Corinth and Rome are, as we shall see,3 quite inconsistent and meet with decisive objections. This does not prove that he did not go to Corinth and Rome after churches had already been established there. But he does not seem to have exercised any profound influence which has left any distinct trace in either of them. Later on both these churches, especially Rome, claimed Peter for their founder for reasons, however, which had nothing to do with any memory of his activity among them. 2.—DID PETER EVANGELISE A S I A - M I N O R ?

Some authors believe that they can find in the first epistle preserved as that of Peter4 an indication of districts where he worked as a missionary. The epistle is addressed to Christians in a vast area which includes Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia. 1

See p. 305. It is impossible to make much of the dates given for Peter's departure from Antioch in the Chronicon of Eusebius (the third year of Caligula's reign (39) in the Armenian trans., ed. Karst, p. 214; the second year of Claudius' reign 3 (43) in the Latin version of Jerome [ed. Helm, p. 179]). See pp. 308 ff. 4 The second epistle cannot be used in the same way. It was written later in the second half of the second century and is a literary fiction completely dependent on the first. 2

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APOSTOLIC CHRISTIANITY AFTER 44

It takes the form of an exhortation to believers who have to suffer for their faith.1 It encourages them to patience and faith by invoking the example of Christ who had had to suffer and die before he partook of glory. Bernhard Weiss2 believed that it was addressed to communities founded by Peter in the course of a journey previous to Paul's missions in Asia. This theory meets with a series of difficulties which seem to be decisive. The narrative in Acts and the epistles of Paul which are addressed to churches in Asia give a very clear impression that no other missionary had preceded Paul in Asia. The Jewish communities in the diaspora were closed groups but there were around them groups of proselytes who constituted as it were a bridge between the Jews and the Gentile world, so that it seems impossible for the preaching of the gospel to have been strictly confined to them without extending to the Gentiles. The ideas contained in the first epistle of Peter far from showing an archaic form of Christian thought are post-pauline. It contains phrases derived from Paul but vulgarised and cheapened and to a large extent deprived of their mystical content. There is also to be found in it the conception of Christ preaching to the dead, which belongs to quite an advanced stage in Christian thought. On the other hand, the problem of the Jewish law has disappeared from the horizon; the victory of universalism has been so complete that it is taken for granted and needs no defence. From its character the first epistle of Peter can hardly be dated before 80 and must therefore have been written after the apostle's disappearance. For even if the tradition which says that he died in the course of the massacres which followed the fire at Rome is far from certain, we can at any rate retain the year 64 as the latest date which can be given for his death. It is plain that Peter may have come to Asia in the period following Paul's activity there. The very fact that an epistle attributed to him is addressed to Christians of this area may be evidence that he was remembered to have been active there. This inference is plausible but by no means conclusive. The attribution of the epistle to Peter is late and quite conceivably could have happened well after its first revision. The epistle may well have been put under the apostle's patronage owing to the authority attached to his name from the beginning of the second century onwards. 1

For the situation and time to which it refers see p. 339, n. i. Bernhard Weiss, Lehrbuch der Einleitung in das Neue Testament3, Berlin, 1897, pp. 407 ff. Most of those who defend its authenticity reject Weiss's theory. See for example the criticism of Zahn, Einl.2, II, p. 3. 2

153

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 3.—PETER AND BABYLON. DOES BABYLON REFER TO ROME?

We have one other more reliable piece of evidence for a tradition concerning Peter. Unfortunately its meaning is ambiguous. At the end of the epistle we read, 'The church that1 is at Babylon, elected together with you, saluteth you; and so doth Marcus, my son* (v. 13). What are we to understand by the term, Babylon? Three meanings are possible: Babylon in Mesopotamia, Babylon a small town which was situated in the delta of the Nile beside a camp which became old Cairo, and lastly, Babylon as a symbolic name which in theory may have stood for Jerusalem but much more probably stood for Rome as in the Apocalypse. The first interpretation was supported formerly by Jacques Cappel and Bengel,2 more recently by Weiss, Kuhl, and Knopf.3 The fact that we know nothing of the evangelisation of Babylonia4 in early days does not constitute a valid objection to this, when we remember the very fragmentary character of our knowledge of the earliest developments of Christianity. It is sometimes objected that Babylon was in the first century in ruins and a desert.5 But this objection is not in any way decisive. According to Josephus6 Jews to the number of 50,000 left the city in the middle of the century for Seleucia. Josephus' evidence, even if the numbers mentioned are subject to a heavy reduction, shows that Pausanias and Pliny the Elder must not be taken literally when they speak of the city being a complete 1

This is the commonly accepted interpretation. There is only one other possible, i.e. by adopting the reading of 'the church co-elect', but this reading is too isolated. Mill (Novum Testamentum, Oxford, 1707, p. 718) and Bengel (Gnomon Novi Testamenti, Tubingen, 1742, p. 1026, in the eighteenth century, and in our day (Guignebert, Prim, de PL, Paris, 1909, p. 169) are induced by the phrase in the context 'Mark my son* to think that it refers to Peter's wife whom according to i Cor. ix. 5, he took about with him in his travels. But Mark was from Jerusalem and not Galilee and can only have been Peter's spiritual son. The suggestion therefore, tolerably bold as it is, falls to the ground. * Jacques Cappel in Critici Sacri, Amsterdam, 1618 ff., VIII, I, p. 172. Bengel, Gnomon Novi Testamenti, p. 1026. 8 Bernhard Weiss, Lehrb. d. Einl. i. d. N. T.8, p. 416; Kubel, Die Briefe Petri und Judae (Meyer XII8) Go., 1897, pp. 60, 287 f.; Knopf, Die Brief e Petri und Judae (Meyer XII7), pp. 200 f. 4 The late traditions which make Peter a missionary to Babylonia (the earliest appears in Photius, BibL, 273) can only be accounted for by presuming that they were suggested by the text of the epistle. Concerning them see Zahn, Einl. i. d. N.T., Leipzig, 1900, II, pp. 20 ff. 5 Pausanias (viii. 33, 3) says that at Babylon only the walls remained. Pliny the Elder (Hist. not. vi. 26, 32) says that the city returned to solitude. * Josephus, A.j. xviii. 9, 8-9.

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ruin.1 As apart from this the Jewish emigration cannot be considered to have been complete, the hypothesis that a mission was sent at an early period to Babylon cannot be ruled out as impossible. It meets, however, with one difficulty, which is that if a Christian church existed at Babylon, it is difficult to conceive how Babylon could have come to be a symbolical expression for Rome. The second interpretation, which supposes that Babylon stands for a military camp in the Nile delta north of Memphis in the occupation of one of the legions stationed in Egypt2 was suggested in the eighteenth century by Jean Le Clerc3 and has been defended by Salomon Reinach.4 I have already given my reasons for thinking5 that Egypt was evangelised at an early date. But the traditions supported by Eusebius6 and the monarchian prologue to Mark7 which attribute the earliest evangelisation of Egypt to Peter and make Mark the first bishop of Alexandria are too late and inconsistent to be taken into serious consideration. It is also difficult to attach any weight to the argument in favour of Babylon in Egypt which depends on the existence of the word apx^oifjirjv (literally, head shepherd: sovereign pastor) in the epistle of Peter (v. 4). Deissmann8 discovered this word on the label attached to the mummy of a certain Ptenis who is described as 'youngest of the archipoimenes': it has also been found in a papyrus of 338® where a certain Kametis is mentioned as archipoimen at the head of a list of shepherds. But the word is also found in two documents which are not Egyptian but Syrian, in the Old Testament of Symmachos (4 Kings iii. 4) and in the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs (Judah viii. i). Salomon Reinach's argument in favour of the Egyptian theory rests on the close connection which he maintains existed between the three pseudopetrine documents, the second epistle, the gospel of Peter, and the apocalypse of Peter. The two last appear to be of 1 Josephus (A.j. ii. 15, i; xv. 2, 21) himself says this. Cf. Philon, Leg. ad. Cajum, 282. According to Strabo (xvi. i, 5) most of Babylon was destroyed and Diodorus (iii. 9, 9) says that only a small part of the city was inhabited. 2 Strabo, xvii. i, 30; Josephus, A.j. ii. 15, i. 3 Jean le Clerc, Le nouveau Testament du Notre Seigneur Jesus, Christ traduit sur roriginal gree avec des remarques, Amsterdam, 1703, on I.P. 5, 13. 4 Salamon Reinach, Rev. archeol., 1908. 5 6 See pp. 6 ff. Eusebius, H.e. ii. 16, 24. 7 Nam Alexandriae episcopus fuit. (Leitzmann, Das Muratorische Fragmen und die monarchianischen Prologe zu den Evangelien, Kleine Texte, I2, Bonn, 1908, p. 16). 8 Deissmann, Licht vom Osten2, Tubingen, 1909, p. 67 (with reproduction). 9 Pap. Leipzig, 97, *i. 4.

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Egyptian origin. Reinach thinks that the first epistle also should be added to these three. The connection between the apocalypse and the second epistle was shown by the fact that both mentioned1 the transfiguration. But it appears now since the Ethiopian text was discovered to be much less close than was supposed when we only had the Greek text. For the former makes it plain that what was supposed to be the story of the transfiguration should be placed after the resurrection and is really an account of a resurrection appearance. The connection therefore between the second epistle and the apocalypse is much less close than Reinach imagined. Furthermore, the resemblance between the two epistles of Peter is quite external and excludes the possibility of any common origin. The second epistle refers to the first in order that it may be taken for an epistle of Peter (iii. i) but the attribution is as exaggerated in the one as reserved in the other. The two documents, it may be said, are not products of the same workshop. Reinach's theory therefore rests on an insecure base. It must also be added that the theory itself is the product of pure guesswork and meets with grave difficulties. It presumes that there was in Egypt rivalry between the two churches of Alexandria and Babylon. Babylon, in order not to be outdone by its rival which claimed to have been founded by Mark, imagines that it may claim Peter as its founder. Two observations will suffice. The tradition which makes Mark the founder of the church at Alexandria lacks any support before the fourth century. It is impossible to agree to a reckless extrapolation. He judges the tradition to have been in existence as far back as the period preceding the revision of the first epistle of Peter, although it could only belong to the time of the last revision. The second observation is this. If Reinach's hypothesis is correct, it is a matter of considerable surprise to find the author of the epistle proceeding in such a discreet manner to claim Peter for Babylon in Egypt. The preceding observations do not allow us to rule out altogether the Egyptian hypothesis: it is still possible but there is not the least indication of a positive nature in its favour. Since neither of the two literal interpretations of the term Babylon have proved convincing, we must consider the interpretation which makes Babylon a symbolic designation for Jerusalem or Rome. In Revelations xi. 8 it says that the bodies of the two assassinated 1 On this Ethiopian text see my article *A propos du texte nouveau de PApocalypse de Pierre', R.h.r., 1924, LXXXIX, pp. 191-209.

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prophets remain exposed for three days 'in the street of the great city, which spiritually1 is called Sodom and Egypt, where also our Lord was crucified'. It is perfectly clear that Jerusalem is meant, but it is difficult to determine the origin of the fragment which the author of the Apocalypse has inserted in his work. It is certainly previous to 70 and must come from some Greek Christian community, which was annoyed with Jerusalem for the way in which Paul had been treated, or from a community which in the intestine quarrels preceding the siege of 70 was hostile to the Zealots, who through assassination created a reign of terror in the city. But this does not matter much, as, whatever interpretation is kept, it establishes the custom of naming a city with which one has a grievance by the name of a city or district known for its impiety. In the eighteenth century Louis Cappel and Fr. Harduin maintained that the Babylon of the first epistle of Peter was Jerusalem.2 Their theory had no great success. It met with two decisive objections. Except for the fact that two men from Jerusalem are mentioned by name in the letter, Silvanus,3 through whom as an intermediary it was written (v. 12)^ and Mark (v. 13) there is nothing in the letter implicit or explicit to show or indicate a conflict which would explain that severe judgement on Jerusalem was meant in such terms as the majority of readers could not have failed to understand. The second objection is that the epistle certainly belongs to a date after 70, which would be a time when Jerusalem had ceased to play any part at all. The Roman interpretation given in antiquity by Eusebius and Jerome5 is supported by the designation of Rome as Babylon in the Apocalypse (xiv. 8; xviii. 2 ff.).6 It meets, however, with one real 1

This means: from the point of view of the Spirit's, i.e. God's judgement on the city. 2 According to Drach, La sainte Bible avec commentaires Epttres catholiques, 1872, p. 67, mentioned by Jean Menier, La premiere Epttre de Vapdtre Pierre, MScon, 1900, p. 329. 3 Always it being supposed that he is identical with Silas, Paul's companion, which is not absolutely proved correct. It is also not absolutely certain that Silas was of Jerusalem as Acts says. 4 Or we may agree with the attractive suggestion put out by Bornemann, *Der erste Petrusbrief, eine Taufrede des Silvanus', Z.N.T.W., 1919-20, XIX, pp. 143-165, that a speech of Sylvanus has been used. 5 Eusebius, H.e. ii. 15, 2; Jerome, De viris inl. 8. 6 This designation had been in existence for some time in certain Jewish texts (4 Esdras iii. i f.; xxviii. 31; Or. Sib. v. 159 ff.). Because of their date (second and third centuries) we cannot make anything out of certain remarks of rabbi who call the Alexandrine doctors with whom they differed Babylonians.

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difficulty through the contradiction between this designation and the conciliatory attitude of the epistle towards the Empire.1 But this difficulty is not insurmountable, because there are serious reasons, which lead us to think that the epistle only assumed the form in which we know it at a late date and that the opening greeting with the epistolary conclusion, which by themselves turn it into a letter of Peter, were only added last of all without doubt at a time when the relations between the church and the Empire were not what they had been when the body of the epistle was put together. We may then retain the hypothesis that Babylon means Rome as at least the most likely to be correct, although we cannot be definitely certain of it. We cannot, however, draw any certain inference from it concerning the activity and presence of Peter at Rome. For the attribution of the letter to the apostle may well date from a time when the Roman tradition concerning Peter had already begun to develop. We know that it has been the subject of considerable discussion and still is. Later on we shall see2 that it rests on a distinctly fragile foundation and appears to have been inspired by ecclesiastical preoccupations rather than historical memories. The result of our enquiries into the evidence for Peter's missionary activity is fairly meagre and does not correspond to the importance which Paul shows was attached to it. Peter was certainly not the only missionary who carried Christianity from Jerusalem to the Jewish communities of the diaspora and to the Greek world but of the others we know still less than we do of him. 4.—MISSIONS FROM JERUSALEM AND THE CHURCH OF ROME

On one point, however, their work can be proved to have produced an important result. It concerns the foundation of the church at Rome. Its origin goes back to a very early date3 for this reason. Almost everyone agrees that the text of Suetonius4 which speaks 1 See in particular the loyal exhortation of ii. 13 f. which expresses the idea that if the conduct of Christians is beyond reproach the magistrates will protect them against their enemies. * E.P., pp. 184 ff. 8 We do not think any useful purpose is served by discussing the tentative paradox of Leon Hermann (De Golgotha au Palatin, Brussels, 1934) who wants to go back as far as 29 for the arrival of Christianity in Rome. See the criticism of his thesis and method made by Guignebert, R.h.r.t 1935, CXI, pp. 290-295. 4 Suetonius, Claudius, 25. 4. For the interpretation of this text, see J. de N., pp. 48 f. and Life of Jesus, pp. 97 f.

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of Claudius expelling the Jews of the city because they were disturbed impulsore Christo refers to an agitation caused in Roman Jewry by the preaching of the Gospel. The date of this expulsion must be the year 49.1 The Ambrosiastre provides evidence that the church of Rome was not founded by an apostle.2 This is striking evidence in face of the tendency to attribute an apostolic origin to the great churches. The tradition which makes Peter the founder of the church of Rome depends on the evidence of Irenaeus3 who does not define in what circumstances Peter came to Rome, secondly on the evidence of Eusebius4 according to whom he came to Rome to fight Simon the Magician. The legend, however, concerning Simon at Rome originated in a blunder of Justin who mistook a statue of the Sabine god, Semo Sancus5 for one of Simon the Magician. As for the idea that 'another place' to which Peter went on leaving Jerusalem (Acts xii. 17) is Rome, apart from the fact that it would be difficult to reconcile it with his arrival at Antioch, to retain it as Belser6 does we must be convinced a priqri that the church of Rome was founded by Peter. It is also equally impossible to suppose in the absence of any allusion to it in the epistle to the Romans that the church was founded by emissaries from Paul.7 The theory that pilgrims who had heard Peter at Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost brought the gospel to Rome savours far too much of fantasy and guesswork.8 The gospel must have been brought to Rome between 40 and 1 The birth of the church of Rome in the bosom of the Jewish colony there is supported by the fact that Aquila and Priscilla who were among the Jews expelled from Rome were already Christians when Paul met them at Corinth (Acts xviii. 1-2). 2 Preface of the commentary on the Epistle to the Romans: Nulla insignia virtutum videntes nee aliquem apostolorum susceperunt fidem Christi. 8 Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. iii. 3, 2. 4 5 Eusebius, H.e. ii. 14, 6. Justin, Apol. i. 26, 2. * Belser, Einldtung in das Neue Testament*, Freiburg in Breisgau, 1905, p. 489. This is not the opinion of all the Roman Catholic critics. Duchesne (H.a. I, p. 55) believes the tradition that the church at Rome was founded by Peter 'lacks sufficient foundation to win the assent of history*. 7 Wieseler, Zur Geschichte der neutestamentlichen Schriften und der UrchristentumSy Leipzig, 1880, p. 62. 8 Reuss, Epitres pauliniennes, Paris, 1878, II, p. 7. Zahn (Der Brief des Paulus an die Romer, Leipzig, 1910, pp. 8 ff.) although he does not go so far, believes the church of Rome to have originated at an early date. We are pressing much too hard the texts in Rom. xiii. 11 if we think that they prove that the church at Rome came into existence at the same time as Paul's conversion and support this opinion by the mention of Andronicus and Junias who are said to be apostles before Paul (Rom. xvi. 7) without any indication, however, that they took part in the foundation of the church of Rome.

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50 by missionaries who came from Jerusalem.1 As the young church survived the expulsion of the Jews it must have rapidly extended beyond the borders of the synagogue. There is no doubt that Paul learnt of the existence of a church at Rome and was put in touch with some of its members2 by Aquila and Priscilla, whom he met on his arrival at Corinth. When he was looking for new ground for his activities after the crises in Corinth and Galatia he saw where he could do best to prepare for the evangelisation of Spain and to assure himself of a good reception wrote his epistle to the Romans. Whether the majority of the members of the church at Rome at that time were of Jewish or Gentile origin has been much discussed. The epistle itself does not help us to answer the question for certain one way or the other. It only tells us what Paul thought about it. It is quite possible that his judgement was formed by Aquila and Priscilla, who had been strongly influenced by him, and that he believed it approximated much more closely to his views than it did in reality. A reading of the epistle leaves us with no clear impression on this point as is shown by the diversity of the interpretations which have been put forward.3 The framework of 1 This is supported by a passage from St. Augustine (Ep. 102. 8) which invokes the evidence of Porphyry and says that the lex Judaeorum penetrated to Italy after the death of Gaius Caesar (41) or in his reign (post Caesarum Gaium out certe ipso imperante). Since Judaism had arrived in Rome well before this time the information can only refer to the lex Judaica nova, i.e. the Gospel. 2 Since the time of Keggermann (De duplici epistolae ad Romanos appendice, 1767) and especially since the time of David Schule (St. u. Kr., II, 1829, PP609 ff.) many critics, because they were surprised that Paul gives personal greetings to so many members of a church he had not visited, considered Rom. xvi. 1-16 to be a fragment of an epistle to the Ephesians or to be an epistle itself to the Ephesians. This hypothesis had a certain vogue but can hardly be maintained any longer. It raises grave difficulties and also it can be easily understood that in order not to appear a stranger in Rome Paul took care to mention by name all the members of the church whom he could possibly know directly or indirectly. 8 Ancient exegesis considered it self-evident that the majority of the Christians at Rome were of Gentile origin. This opinion was questioned at an early date by Koppe (Novum Testamentum perpetua annotatione illustratum, Gottingen, 1824, IV8, p. 13) and was forcibly attacked by Baur (Ueber Zweckund Veranlassung des Romerbriefs, Tubingen, Zurich, 1836, 3, pp. ii4ff. Cf. Paidus*, Leipzig, 1866-1869,1, pp. 343 f., 368 f., 405). The idea that the epistle was addressed to Jewish Christians prevailed until 1881, when a reaction was provoked by a study from Grafe (Ueber Veranlassung und Zweck des Romerbriefs, Freiburg in Breisgau, Tubingen, 1881). Opinion is still fairly well divided. Compromising theories have also been put forward. H. Schultz (Die Adresse des letzten Capitels des Briefs an die Romer, Jahrb. f. deutsche TkeoL, 1876, XXI, pp. 105-130) and Heinrici (Die Forschung tiber die paulinischen Briefe, Giessen, 1886, p. 25) suggested that the Christians of Rome were of Gentile origin but passed for Jews. For more details see Introd.t IV, 2, pp. 274 ff.

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the epistle (i. 10-15; *v' H"1^; xvi) hints at readers of Gentile origin. The question of the collection is raised in such a way that it can only be understood as addressed to Gentiles and of the many individuals who are greeted in chapter xvi only three are shown to be Jews.1 The majority of them, therefore, must have been nonJewish. Many passages in the body of the epistle must be interpreted in the same way. Thus in iii. 3 Paul speaks of Jewish incredulity in quite an objective manner. He calls the Jews, 'My brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh*. He does not say, 'We also, are Israelites', but, 'I also, I am an Israelite'. Every exhortation to remain humble and not to become proud at having taken the place of the Jews in the economy of salvation can only be supposed to be addressed to Gentiles.2 Paul indeed tells his readers that Abraham and Isaac are their ancestors (iv. i, 12; ix. 10) but he also tells the Galatians that they are the seed of Abraham, although they are unquestionably of Gentile origin, and he speaks of 'our fathers' when he is writing to the Corinthians, who are similarly Gentiles, about the Israelites in the desert (i Cor. x. i). Other indications of Jewish origin which Zahn thought he recognised do not stand up to examination.3 As we read the epistle we grow more inclined therefore to favour the idea that the church at Rome was for the most part Gentile Christian in character or at least Paul thought it so and we are supported in this opinion by Mark's gospel, which was probably written at Rome4 and presumes that its readers have no knowledge of Jewish customs.5 1 Andronicus, Junias and Herodion (xvi. 7-n); Aquila and Priscilla (xvi. 3); Mary (xvi. 6); Rufus and his mother (xvi. 13), were also certainly Jews. a In iii. 9 Paul is speaking of the privilege and advantage accruing to the Jew from circumcision and asks, 'are we better than they*, but this cannot be understood in the opposite sense. Paul is thinking of himself not his readers as linked with Judaism. * e.g. vii. 4-6, where Paul tells his readers that before their conversion they were under the yoke of the law (Zahn, Br. a.d. Rom., p. 332). But in Gal. iii. 22, Paul says that the scripture hath concluded all under sin, all, i.e., both Jews and Gentiles together. Zahn (p. 574) also sees in the instruction concerning the weak brethren (xiv. 1-15, 13) a sign of the Jewish Christian character of the Roman community, as otherwise he considers that the contrast between Paul's tolerance shown in Rom. xiv. 5, and his intransigent attitude expressed in Gal. iv. 10 f. cannot be explained. Zahn considers that at Rome Paul was dealing with persons who continued to practise the Jewish law and not as in Galatia with Gentiles who had adopted it. But there is no proof at all that the scruples of the weak brethren arose out of observance of the Jewish law; they appear rather to have had a neopythagorean origin especially since there is nothing to show that the weak brethren at Rome had imposed a rule upon themselves as a condition of salvation. 4 Bacon, Is Mark a Roman Gospel? Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1919. Cf. Introd., I, p. 367. 1 e.g. the explanations given of purification (vii. 2-4) and of corban (vii. 11-13).

ii

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The Epistle to the Romans is, however, addressed to readers who are familiar with the Old Testament and in whose regard Paul does not wish to be thought of as contemptuous of the law and hostile to the people of Israel. The Christians of Rome therefore must have been subjected to some judaising influences, although they do not seem to have been effected by propaganda of a particularly judaising nature. Paul's only fear was that their attitude towards the law was not strong enough to prevent their falling before any future onslaught of Judaisers. He never reveals his apprehensions very explicitly but they can be seen from the following sentence which appears to be a postscript in his own hand to the letter which had been dictated to Tertius, 'Now I beseech you brethren, mark them which cause divisions and offences contrary to the doctrine which ye have learned; and avoid them. For they that are such serve not our Lord Jesus Christ, but their own belly' (xvi. 17-18). Such may have been the state of things or possibly the situation may have been transformed by the action of Judaisers between the time when Paul was writing to the Romans and that of his arrival at Rome as a prisoner. One thing, however, is certain. They did not give him a very warm welcome. It is true that Acts recounts that warned of his coming the brethren came as far as Appii forum and the three taverns to meet him1 and that their welcome gave him courage (xxviii. 15). But this note somewhat unexpectedly is placed not before but after Paul's arrival in Rome has been mentioned (xxviii. 14). It is therefore an addition made by the compiler of Acts to his sources because he did not wish to leave the impression that the Christians at Rome received Paul as a prisoner with indifference. In his last chapter, however, he declares that Paul received the Jews at Rome with whom he desired to have conversations and all those who came to him but he does not say that he also received a visit from the members of the church. This attitude of reserve which the church at Rome took up towards Paul when he was a prisoner shows that it was biased against him and ranged itself on the side of his enemies. Confirmation of this fact comes from certain passages in the pastoral epistles2 which appear to refer to 1

i.e. about thirty-eight and twenty-eight miles respectively from Rome on the Appian way. Guignebert (Le Christ, p. 318) notes that it is hardly natural that two places separated by only ten miles should be given as the rendezvous of the delegation from Rome and the apostle. 2 Concerning the use made in the pastoral epistles of fragments of letters written by Paul while he was a prisoner in Rome, see Introd., IV, 2, p. 500.

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the imprisonment and the trial of Paul at Rome. We cannot be certain that 2 Timothy iv. 16 f. refers to these things, being a passage in which Paul complains that at his first appearance in court no one stood by him but all forsook him. We cannot decide for certain whether this text refers to the imprisonment at Caesarea or at Rome. 2 Timothy i. 15-18 does not raise the same doubt as Rome is mentioned by name. 'All they that be in Asia be turned away from me.1 The Lord give mercy to the house of Onesiphorus.2 For oft he refreshed me. He was not ashamed of my chain; but when he was in Rome, he sought me out very diligently and found me. The Lord grant unto him that he may find mercy of the Lord in that day/ This text shows us that some time a change took place in Paul's condition; most probably it refers to Paul's transfer to a prison the result of which was that he lost touch with the church, so that, when Onesiphorus comes from Asia to Rome to help the apostle, the church cannot tell him where he could find him. In spite of this, Onesiphorus succeeded in discovering him. What a stranger could do the church could have done too if it had been anxious about the apostle's departure. Paul was then certainly deceived in thinking that the church at Rome had absorbed his conception of the gospel. It stood not with him but with his enemies. This provides us with a very weighty reason for thinking that it was founded by a mission from Jerusalem. We have no direct knowledge of the history of the church at Rome for a period of some thirty years following Paul's death and the fire at Rome which had resulted in the massacre of Christians. Slowly it had to be reconstituted without perhaps being able to resume completely all the traditional threads which had been snapped by the terrible bloody losses which had been inflicted on it. The church, however, arising from the old one which seemed to have been destroyed was not an entirely new creation. In the last decade of the first century, although at the time it had again to suffer from the persecution of Domitian, there was at Rome an important and flourishing church which enjoyed 1 There is no doubt that Paul is referring to some of his collaborators and friends who had come to help him but had been discouraged by the delay in the trial and other reasons and so returned to Rome. 2 The reason why Paul speaks of the house of Onesiphorus and not of Onesiphorus himself is undoubtedly because in the interval Onesiphorus had died. 163

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consideration from the other churches. This is shown by the epistle of Clement of Rome to the Corinthians which was written about 96.* As we shall see later on,2 this document reflects Christianity of an ethical nature such as can be found in Christianity at Jerusalem in its later stages. At the same time it is also tinged in a somewhat superficial and verbal way with Paulinism. 1

Concerning the circumstances in which this epistle was written see E.P., pp. 137 ff. * See pp. 383 ff.

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PART

THREE

The Development of Christianity within the Framework of Hellenism The Beginnings of Christian Doctrine

CHAPTER I

Stephen and the Hellenists of Jerusalem FROM what the book of Acts tells us about Stephen the Seven and their group, we can see that in addition to the Christians attached to Judaism, who impressed the church at Jerusalem with the character it retained right up to the time of the revolt of Barkochba, there was also at Jerusalem at a very early date, since it was already in existence at the time of PauPs conversion, another Christian group known as the Hellenists. Both their outlook and their way of life seems to have been quite distinct from that of the group known as the Hebrew which was in the majority. Our information about the Hellenists comes from the story in Acts concerning Stephen, especially from the sermon for which the story is the setting. I.—WHO THE HELLENISTS ARE

There has been much discussion on the term Hellenist which the author of Acts uses without any explanation.1 It is generally supposed to mean Jews who spoke Greek because either they or their fathers belonged to the diaspora.2 We meet with the word for the first time in Acts but it was not used subsequently with this meaning. The Post-Nicean Fathers and Julian the Apostate use it as a synonym for Gentiles. As it is derived from a verb in i£co it implies a particular tendency.3 The term Hebrews which in the Acts is used as an antithesis to Hellenists is seldom used to denote Jews who speak Hebrew, except once or twice by Philo, who generally uses it to describe the Israelites in the time of the Patriarchs.4 We meet with the term 'Synagogue of the Hebrews' in inscriptions 1

See H.-J. Cadbury, ' The Hellenists', Begin. V, pp. 59-74. This is the meaning adopted by Bauer (Worterb.) and F. Zorell (Lexicon 8 graecum Novi Testamenti2, Paris, 1931 s.v.). Cf. lovbdi&iv in Gal. ii. 14. 4 Philo, De confus. ling., 129. De congr. erud. grat.t 43 s. 2

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at Rome, Corinth,2 and Philadelphia in Lydia.3 We cannot be certain that it means synagogues which had been founded by people who continued to use Hebrew, as funerary inscriptions from the Jewish catacombs at Rome4 use the same term Hebrew but are sometimes written in Greek or Latin script. While we have no direct evidence it seems most reasonable to suppose that the only difference between Hellenists and Hebrews was one of language.5 The author of Acts certainly considered the Hellenists to be Jews because he mentions them before he tells of the first conversion of a Gentile, i.e. Cornelius and in the list of the names of the Seven he discloses the fact that one of them was a proselyte (vi. 5). The two facts (i) that they differed in language, (2) that the Hellenists were driven away from Jerusalem at a very early date explains why no conflict appears to have arisen between the two groups, although their outlook in thought was very different. They must have at least gone each their own way without being unknown to each other. It is true that this is not the picture given to us by the story in Acts; but we cannot altogether trust it on this point. Without creating any link between the preceding story, that of the appearance of the Twelve before the Sanhedrin (v. 17-42),® it goes on to say that at that time, as the number of the disciples grew, the Hellenists murmured against the Hebrews because their widows were neglected in the daily ministration.7 As Peter considered this complaint well founded, he summoned an assembly of the faithful to whom he declared that the apostles could not neglect the most important of their duties, the ministry of the word, i.e. preaching 1

C./.G., 9909; Schurer (Gesch. Ill, p. 46) thinks that it refers to a synagogue which was made up of Jews who continued to speak Hebrew. 2 Deissmann, L.v.O., p. 9, n. 2. Deissmann reproduces the inscription. 8 Keil und von Premerstein, Bericht uber eine dritte Reise in Lydien, Denkschriften der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, 1914, LVII, pp. 32 ss., n. 42. * For these inscriptions published by Nic. Muller, N. Bees and Kaibel, see Cadbury, p. 65, n. 5. 5 Cadbury's interpretation (p. 69) which makes the Hellenists to be Gentile converts to Judaism finds no possible confirmation in Acts xi. 20, which refers to Gentiles. B.D.2, etc. have 'EbXipwrras, while 'EXXrjvas is only to be found in Kc. A.D.*, and a few minuscules. The reading 'EhAipntnas seems to come from a correction of cuayyeAurra? in K*. This reading does not make sense and must have originated in a fusion of the words 'EhXyvurras and euayyeAiscyicov which follow each other. • This story is completely devoid of any historical value. See pp. 455 ff. 7 It may be as has sometimes been supposed (see e.g. Guignebert, Le Christ, p. 78), that the compiler of Acts substituted the grievance concerning the distribution of alms for a more serious motive of another kind.

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and prayer for serving tables1 and that it would therefore be best to entrust the work of assistance to seven approved men, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom. After this proposal had been agreed to, seven men were chosen and presented to the apostles who after praying laid their hands on them. This was the symbolic gesture both in Judaism and in primitive Christianity for giving authority to anyone to perform a function2 (vi. 1-6). We have already noted3 that in this story the author of Acts had in mind the organised ministry existing in his own day which subordinated deacons to presbyters and bishops. By it he wanted to explain two conflicting traditions, (i) that a group of twelve men, (2) that a group of seven exercised in the church the most primitive of the functions which they considered to be identical with those existing in the church at the end of the first century. But the list of the Seven contains only Greek names. It would have been a singular proceeding in order to ensure an equitable distribution of the alms among the members of two groups, which if not rivals were at any rate distinct, to have entrusted the duty to men who were exclusively chosen from only one of them. We know something about two of the Seven if not three and what we know does not conform to the idea that they distributed alms. Stephen was a preacher and teacher; Philip was an evangelist. Nicholas also appears to have been a teacher if we are right in supposing that the group of heretics called the Nicolaitanes who are attacked at the beginning of Revelation are connected with him.4 The story therefore in Acts vi. 1-6 has no direct historical value. It provides evidence, however, for the existence at Jerusalem of a Christian group who had as preachers and leaders the Seven and not the Twelve, and who being formed of people who spoke Greek would in other ways which cannot be defined be subject to the influence of Hellenism. 2.—THE STORY OF STEPHEN

The compiler of Acts considers the story of the institution of the ministry of the Seven to be the prelude to the story of Stephen. The only link, however, to be found between the two stories is the name Stephen which figures in the list of the Seven. Actually they 1

This seems to show that the author seems to think of the service of alms as a meal offered by the church to the poor. 8 See E.P., pp. 401 ff. * See pp. 91 f. * See pp. 409 if. 169

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

are separated by a short editorial note (vi. 7) which mentions an increase in the number of the disqiples and the conversion of many priests. We can distinguish two elements in the section vi. 8-viii. 7 devoted to Stephen, which must first be considered separately: a story and a speech. Stephen, full of grace and power, accomplishing signs and wonders, provokes hostility from certain members of the synagogue of the Libertines, Cyranians, Cilicians, and Asians,1 who not being able to resist the Spirit by which he spoke, stir up false witnesses who accuse him of having blasphemed against Moses and God. He is brought before the Sanhedrin and the false witnesses give their accusation definite form by saying that Stephen declared that Jesus of Nazareth would destroy this place2 and would change the customs given by Moses (vi. 9-15). In answer to the interrogation of the high priest Stephen makes a speech in which he vigorously accuses the people of Israel of idolatry. By his speech Stephen stirs up his audience into fury in the face of which, full of the Holy Spirit, he declares that he sees the heavens opened and the Son of Man3 seated on the right hand 1 Although the text is not exactly clear, it seems to refer to one synagogue and not several. It is surprising that one section of the members of this synagogue are called after their legal status: the Libertines (there is no doubt that they were descended from the Jews whom Pompey had brought to Rome as slaves, many of whom had been subsequently freed. Cf. Schurer, Gesch. II, p. 431). The other sections are called after their place of origin or domicile. Preuschen (Apostelgeschichte, p. 37) following the Armenian catena proposed to correct Aifeprivtw to At£va>v (people from Lydia). Blass (Philology of the Gospel, London, 1898, pp. 69 f.) proposed A^varivaiv. These corrections are unnecessary, R. Weill ('La Cite" de David, Compte rendu des fouilles ex£cute"es a Jerusalem sur le site de la ville primitive (campagne 1913-14'), R.e.j., 1920, LXXI, pp. 30-34. Cf. Clermont-Ganneau, Decouverte d Jerusalem d'une synagogue de Vepoque herodienne, Syria, 1920, I, pp. 190-197; Fr. Vincent, Decouverte de la synagogue des Affranchis a Jerusalem, R.B., 1921, XXX, pp. 247-297) while making excavations at the extremity of the hill of Ophel discovered a Greek inscription in which it is said that 'Theodotus, son of Ouettenios (Vettenius), priest and archisynagogus, son and grandson of archisynagogi, built this synagogue for the reading of the law and teaching the commandments, as well as the hostelry, the rooms, and the baths to serve as an inn for those who come from afar*, and that 'this synagogue was founded by his fathers and forbears with Simonides*. The inscription must belong to the first century before the fall of Jerusalem. The fact that Theodotus' father has a Latin name shows that he must have been a slave in Rome and had been freed. The synagogue to which Theodotus added arrangements for lodging pilgrims must have been in existence in the early years of the first century. It is not unreasonable to identify it with the one mentioned in Acts. 9 i.e. Jerusalem and the Temple. * This is the only passage in the book of Acts which contains the term, Son of Man.

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of God (vii. 54-56). He is then dragged outside the city and stoned, after the witnesses1 had laid their clothes at the foot of a young man named Saul. As he dies, Stephen cries out, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit', and then, 'Lord, lay not this sin to their charge' (vii. 57-60).2 Mention is then made of Saul's approval of his death and of a great persecution against the church which compelled all the faithful to scatter except the apostles3 (viii. i). The burial of Stephen is then mentioned (viii. 2). The story finishes with a note about the persecution of the church led by Saul (viii. 3). The end of the story is not altogether coherent. The three notes about Saul (vii. 58; viii. i, 3) make a triplet and are not smoothly integrated into the text; they certainly originated with the compiler. Stephen's burial is mentioned in such a peculiar place as to make one think that it is a note which has been clumsily put in afterwards as an afterthought. Furthermore, it is not clear from the story if Stephen was executed after a proper trial or was massacred as the victim of a popular movement. The compiler has combined two traditions which differ in detail but agree on essentials. This does not at bottom affect the value of the story in Acts. It is far otherwise concerning the false witnesses. Here the story is doubly suspect. First of all Stephen, instead of protesting against the ideas which have been falsely attributed to him, maintains in his speech that the Israelite cult was an idolatrous form of worship. From this there should have been drawn the logical conclusion that it ought to be abolished and the place where it was celebrated destroyed. There also exists a disturbing parallelism4 between the false witnesses, who accused Jesus before the Sanhedrin of having proclaimed that in three days he would destroy the temple and build it again, meaning by that, that he would change the whole form of Jewish worship,5 and those who bring an accusation against Stephen so closely resembling that brought against Jesus that it cannot be independent of it. Both these considerations show that we are in the presence of an idea which 1

According to Sank. vi. 4 it was their duty to throw the first stones. In the same way that Stephen's vision calls to mind the declaration of Jesus before the Sanhedrin (Mark xiv. 62 and par. passages) the words attributed to him recall to mind those which Luke puts into the mouth of the dying Jesus (xxiii. 34, 46) but can only be accepted as authentic with reserve. See Life of Jesus, 8 p. 536. Concerning this persecution see pp. 460 ff. 4 This parallelism is shown to be still more striking by the one drawn by the author between Stephen's death and Jesus'. 5 Concerning the authenticity and meaning of this saying see V. de J., pp. 491 f. and Life of Jesus, pp. 507 f. 2

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Christians belonging to the time and environment when the tradition had become set considered so outrageous that they could not admit that it was Jesus' or Stephen's and thought that it could only be attributed to false witnesses.

3.—STEPHEN'S SPEECH An analysis of Stephen's speech and an examination of its context affords direct confirmation of this opinion. The first part consists of a somewhat ample presentation of the religious history of Israel. Its tone is quite peaceable without any polemics (vii. 2-41).* Until it mentions the making and worship of the golden calf, the speech conforms to traditional Jewish thought. After that it falls away and takes on a tone which no Jew could help but think was blasphemous. It declares that from the time Israel worshipped the golden calf God turned away from them and gave them up to worship the host of heaven. This idea which is the basis of the whole of Stephen's thought, is supported by a saying of Amos who said that the Israelites did not worship God in the wilderness but idols, Moloch and Remphan (vii. 42-43).2 The building of the temple at Jerusalem is regarded as putting the crown on Israel's revolt against God and making it beyond redemption (vii. 48-50). The second and concluding part of the speech is short compared with the length of the beginning. It is also so obscure that it seems to have been mutilated.3 Only fragments of the original conclusion remain. Stephen reproaches his audience for remaining as rebellious to the Holy Spirit as their fathers had been. The latter persecuted the prophets who predicted the coming of the Just One; they have put this Just One to death, they have received the law by the disposition of angels and have not kept it (vii. 51-53). Although there is little connection between these affirmations certain ideas can be deduced from them. We see, for example, that 1

Stephen's historical summary differs on a few counts from the stories in the Old Testament. These are noted in the commentaries. The same divergences are found in Philo. 1 vii. 44-47 unexpectedly follows the traditional line of thought closely but so flatly contradicts what has gone before and what follows that it must be considered the compiler's addition to soften the boldness of Stephen's thought. 8 The compiler has tried to explain the want of balance between the two sections of the speech by the suggestion that the fury of the audience compelled Stephen to condense what he wanted to say. In reality the speech is not cut short or interrupted; it is mutilated. 172

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even after the revolt of his people God did not leave them as he sent the prophets to them and above all as he sent them the Just One. We do not see what part Stephen considered the Just One to play; we recognise only that the hostility shown towards him is not excused as it is in one of Peter's speeches (iii. 17) through ignorance on part of the Jews, which in short was excusable, but is the crowning point of the opposition which they have always shown to God's interventions. What survives of the speech of Stephen is completely negative in character. It forms an indictment against the Jewish people not an exposition of Stephen's faith. We can, however, form some idea of his positive thought by extending the lines of thought of which there are in his speech plain indications. Two conclusions to this speech can be thought of. One would be a call to repentance that the Jews should at last be converted and that the Just One would forgive and save them. But if Stephen thought on these lines, they would have been the same as Peter's and we can see no reason why the tradition was unable to agree to this and eliminated the positive part of the speech. Must we therefore suppose that Stephen's thoughts ran in a different direction? He may have thought that God has definitely turned away from Israel and that henceforth he will turn to the Gentiles to establish his kingdom. This interpretation finds confirmation in the fact that it was the Hellenists who took the initiative at Antioch in preaching the gospel to the Gentiles.1 The additions and mutilations made by the compiler to Stephen's speech prove that he did not compose it. The idea that Judaism became such a decadent religion that Christianity was a completely new religion belongs to the antipodes of his thought. If we grant that the story of Stephen is connected to the persecuting activity of Saul of Tarsus in an artificial way, theoretically it is not inconceivable that the compiler of Acts by inserting the story where we find it has committed an anachronism and that Stephen's thought in reality belongs to a much later stage in the development of Christian thought. But the fact that Jerusalem is the scene of Stephen's activity does not allow us to keep this conjecture. The judaising character of the church at Jerusalem was quickly accentuated; ideas such as those of Stephen could have only manifested themselves without creating a violent reaction x The initiative may have been taken by different people independently. Guignebert, Le Christ, p. 126, appears to us to go too far with his hypothesis that the Hellenists were the first to propagate the new faith.

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within the fold of the church before the Christians in Jerusalem had adopted a definite attitude. We have no trace in the story in Acts of any such reaction. We cannot see in Stephen's speech a projection into the past of Pauline ideas or of the issues raised by Paulinism. Paul only considered the worship of the Jews to have perished because the redemptive work of the Christ had been accomplished. Until then it was the legitimate form of worship desired by God. Furthermore, Stephen's speech does not contain a late interpolation made under the influence of ideas similar to those of Marcion. For Stephen considered that the religion of Israel had come to an end, not because it did not originate in a revelation of God but because Israel revolted against him and persisted in its revolt in spite of the calls of the prophets who were sent to it. 4.—THE ORIGINS OF HELLENIC CHRISTIANITY

The question of the origins of Stephen's thought cannot be separated from that of the origins of Greek Christianity. Certain scholars who have had very little following such as Heitmuller,1 Schutz,2 W. Bauer,3 and Lohmeyer4 especially, start with the fact that Galilee was only judaised at a late date and therefore in only a superficial way.5 On this they have sketched out or developed a theory that in this province a religion new in form came into existence from Jesus himself when he was alive which was much more distinct from Judaism and its law than the religion which must have developed later at Jerusalem. This form of Christianity, they argue, spread into the neighbouring Hellenic areas even as far as Damascus where it made a conquest of the man who was later to be the apostle Paul. This theory meets with a series of objections of which it is sufficient to point out the principal. First of all we are in the presence of a construction which is quite theoretical and rests on no positive fact. It is a hypothesis which has been put forward to explain facts which can be given a simpler and more natural explanation. What is more serious is that we have no trace 1 W. Heitmuller, ' Zum Problem Paulus und Jesus', Z.N.T.W., 1922, XIII, 2 pp. 320-337. R. Schutz, Apostel und Junger, Giessen, 1921. 8 Bauer, 'Jesus der Galilaer', Festgdbe fur Ad. Julicher, Tubingen, 1927, pp. 16-34. * Lohmeyer, Galilaea und Jerusalem, Gottingen, 1936. 6 This opinion meets with a serious objection in the fact that Galilee during the Jewish war and before was one of the most active centres of opposition to Rome and of political messianism resting on a religious basis.

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of the early existence of any form of Christianity in Galilee.1 This hypothesis creates a paradox for which we can find no plausible explanation. The paradox rests on the fact that while from a form of Christianity which sprung from the activity of Jesus in Galilee there developed a theory which placed the emphasis on the accomplishment of redemption through the death and resurrection of Jesus, the church at Jerusalem, where the drama of the passion was enacted, attached much less importance to it and considered what the Christ would accomplish on his return to be the essential redemptive act. We must look rather to the thought of Jesus in what appears to have been its final form if we are to discover the origin of Stephen's ideas. They appear to have been organically connected with it. As is shown by the ecstatic vision which Stephen received before his death in which he saw the heavens open and the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of God his thoughts were tending in the same direction as those of Jesus when he declared before the Sanhedrin that the Son of Man would sit on the right hand of God and come on the clouds of heaven.2 Like Jesus too, Stephen thought that the Son of Man when he showed himself in glory would change the whole form of Israel's worship. This was what Jesus meant when he spoke of destroying and rebuilding the temple. The Jewish form of worship with its legalistic setup from which it could not be separated created a gulf between Jews and Gentiles and placed the latter beyond the reach of the covenant with God. Its destruction would have enabled the Gentiles equally with the Jews to have partaken of salvation. It is therefore fairly certain that the Hellenists who came to Antioch were the first or among the first to preach the gospel to the Gentiles.3 It is not surprising that Stephen's ideas caused the Jews to react so violently that the Hellenists could not remain in Jerusalem.4 1 Galilee is only mentioned once in the book of Acts in a passage (ix. 31) which was certainly added by the compiler. 2 Concerning this declaration see Life of Jesus, pp. 507 f. and V. dej., pp. 493 f. 8 It does not then seem legitimate to suppose with Guignebert, Le Christ, p. 179, that the election of the Seven marked a schism in the church at Jerusalem. It is more natural to suppose that the Seven without ever having been formally elected were the centre and leading element in the Hellenist group corresponding to the Twelve in the Hebrew group. 4 This of course does not exclude the possibility that some remained. It seems perfectly reasonable to count as a Hellenist Mnason mentioned in Acts xxi. 16 (cf. p. 489, n. i). This, however, does not mean that the Hellenists as a group did not count for anything in Jerusalem after Stephen's death.

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We do not know how far the church itself was associated with this reaction. One thing is certain: it was in no way influenced by the Hellenists. Considered in the framework of Christianity at Jerusalem the Hellenist movement was nothing more than a passing incident leaving no traces behind it. It was remembered because the action of the Hellenists was so important in the extension of Christianity beyond Jerusalem. As we shall see in the next chapter, members of their group were the evangelists who had to leave Jerusalem, came to Antioch and preached to Gentiles. In this way they founded a church which became one of the most powerful centres for the spread of the gospel in the first generation and was for a long time one of the mother-churches of Christendom. Force of circumstances rather than any concerted plan of action drove the missionaries at Antioch to preach the gospel to Gentiles. But they would not have profited by the circumstances which arose and would not have refused to ask those who were converted to comply with the Jewish ritual, if they had not had quite a different perception of the relationship between the gospel and Judaism from that of the Hebrew Christians in Jerusalem. It would be more accurate to say that the Hellenists saw a problem to which other Christians were blind. Stephen's solution does not seem to have exercised much influence in Christian thought. His radicalism alarmed them: they refused to accept it. The expressions used by Stephen to describe his conception of the relationship between the new religion and the old, tradition transferred from him to false witnesses. There is no form of Christian thought known to us which recalls his ideas. We do not meet with anything in primitive Christianity which we can suppose to have come from them. What, however, is most important in the history of thought and is really creative of new orientations is not always to find the solution to a problem but to formulate a problem which up to then has not been thought of. This is what Stephen did. After him others were able to find solutions to the problem of the relationship between the new religion and the old, which met with more success than his, perhaps showed greater balance, smoothed the paths of transition and at the same time made it easier for Christianity to retain the heritage of Israel's religion. It nevertheless remains true that Stephen by formulating the problem laid the foundations of Christianity's independence. 176

CHAPTER II

The Church at Antioch I.—THE HELLENISTS AND THEIR MISSION

DRIVEN from Jerusalem by persecution the Hellenists came into touch with new surroundings. These provided them with the opportunity for successful activity of a more intense nature than was possible for them when they formed a small group within the Jewish community at Jerusalem.1 The Hellenists were certainly much more inclined to evangelism than the Hebrews could ever have been; this was due to the fact that they had the feeling that Judaism had come to a dead end, that to obtain salvation man must pursue the path which had been opened up by the Just One, which was not the same as that of the Jewish ritual. The narrative in Acts clearly shows a connection between the dispersion of the Hellenists and their mission. 'They that were scattered abroad', it says, 'went everywhere preaching the word* (viii. 4). This undoubtedly was the first mission to pass beyond the districts of Judaea in the immediate neighbourhood of Jerusalem. It began at a very early date since it took place before Paul's conversion. Our information about this Hellenistic mission is only very fragmentary. We have for instance no knowledge of the circumstances in which the church at Damascus was founded although the story of Paul's conversion (Acts. ix. 2, 10 ff.) proves that it was then existing. It is, however, natural to suppose that it came into existence through a Hellenist mission.2 In the same way we have no details concerning the activities of those, who according to Acts xi. 19 went to Phoenicia and Cyprus,3 neither concerning the mission 1 We noticed that the same fact can be observed of Peter whose missionary activities became much more intense after he left Jerusalem. 2 The idea advanced by Lohmeyer (Galileo, und Jerusalem, Goettingen, 1936) that it may have been one of the fruits of Galilean Christianity and had no connection with Jerusalem Christianity is an ingenious conjecture perhaps but there is no adequate evidence to support it. 8 It may be, at least so far as concerns Cyprus, that this silence must be explained by the fact that these missions gained no results. The story of Paul and 12 177

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

which founded the church of Caesarea, although it may be supposed from Acts viii. 40 and xxi. 8 f. that its foundation should be attributed to Philip. This may be due to other causes besides the fact that the compiler of Acts had only imperfect and incomplete information about these missions. It may well be that he mentions them in only a summary fashion because the fact that a missionary group came into existence without any initiative from the Twelve and outside their control did not conform to his own conception. This hypothesis is supported by the fact that the story—or rather the simple mention of the event—of the mission which founded the church at Antioch has clearly been transposed and postdated. A very striking doublet exists between viii. 4 which introduces the story of Philip's mission in Samaria and his evangelising work between Azot and Caesarea after the persecution following Stephen's death and xi. 19 which the compiler of Acts places after quite a nupiber of stories1 and so dates perceptibly later.2 He mentions the arrival of Hellenists at Antioch who had been scattered by persecution and turning also to the Gentiles founded a church which soon assumed a position of very great importance. viii. 44 They that were scattered xi. 19 They which were scattered abroad went everywhere preaching abroad upon the persecution the word. that arose about Stephen travelled as far as Phenice and Cyprus and Antioch, preaching the word to none but unto the J^ws only. 01 fJi€V o$v Sia07Tap€VT€$ SifjXOov €i>ayyeAi£o/zevoi rov \6yov

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Barnabas* journey across Cyprus (Acts xiii. 4-12) contains no mention of their finding groups of Christians there. 1 Stories of Philip's missions (viii. 4-40). The conversion of Paul of Tarsus (ix. 1-30). Stories of Peter's missions (Peter at Lydda and Joppa. The conversion of the centurion Cornelius) (ix. 32-xi. 18). 2 This is also supported by the fact that the first notice of the dispersion is placed before Paul's conversion, i.e. according to our chronology at a date later than the summer of 29. On the other hand the author of Acts seems to place the second notice telling of the foundation of the church at Antioch about 40 or 41.

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The same note serves as an introduction to both sections. The author certainly borrowed the note from a source which must have told of the activity of those who had been scattered and founded the church at Antioch rather than of Philip's; the structure of the first sentence is more suitable for the introduction to the story of a group's activity than an individual's. Why didn't the author of Acts relate the foundation of the church at Antioch in the same context as he found it mentioned in his source? It cannot be because he was wedded to the idea of narrating at once the story of the evangelisation of Samaria to which for some reason or another he attached great importance. There was nothing to prevent him from placing the activity of Philip in Samaria side by side with that of the anonymous missionaries at Antioch. The position of the story can only be explained as due to a transposition made of set purpose, expressly intended to convey the impression that the church at Antioch was founded after the centurion Cornelius had been converted. In this way the impression is given that the apostle Peter and the Twelve took the initiative in preaching the gospel to the Gentiles. Furthermore, by making out that the church at Antioch was only founded just before the conference at Jerusalem, he considerably lowered the prestige of this church which had refused to give way to the demands of Christians who had come from Judaea. On the other hand, by the same stroke the authority of the church at Jerusalem is heightened and it is made to seem less improbable for a question which had risen at Antioch to have been submitted to the judgement of the church at Jerusalem. In reality we know that nothing of the sort took place at the conference but that the men of Antioch and those of Jerusalem conferred together as between equals. The story of the evangelisation of Samaria by Philip (viii. 4-25) is fairly full but except for two details which must be accepted with considerable reserve contains nothing out of the ordinary. The story is evidence for the fact that Samaria was evangelised and attributes this to Philip but tells us nothing concrete about it. One of the episodes which must be considered concerns the incident of Peter and John's visit to Samaria, when they went as According to Acts (xi. 26) Paul passed a year at Antioch before he came to Jerusalem for the conference. His arrival at Antioch would then have taken place towards the end of 42. According to the narrative Barnabas must not have been at Antioch for a long time before this.

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delegates from the church at Jerusalem after it had learnt of the conversions made by Philip. The two apostles make what is a veritable confirmation circuit, as the Samaritans whom Philip had converted and baptised receive the holy Spirit when the two apostles lay their hands on them.1 Here is to be found an addition made by the compiler to his source. His intention is perfectly clear; he wishes to make out that the evangelisation of Samaria was under the control of the church at Jerusalem in order that his narrative may conform to his artificial ex post facto conception of the apostolate and inspiration running through the whole book of Acts.2 Among the Samaritan converts was a certain Simon who had formerly practised magic. He gave out that he was 'some great one' and all the Samaritans from the least to the greatest said that he was 'the great power of God* (viii. 9 f.). It would be foolish to suppose that we can portray Simon's appearance and describe his ideas from what the later heresiologues tells us of him and his followers. He was doubtless one of the prophets mentioned by Origen,3 who thought themselves the vehicles and organs of a divine revelation. Simon subsequently was reckoned the typical heretic, the great enemy whom Peter came to fight and destroy at Rome. An early form of this tradition more simple in character has influenced the story in Acts. Simon is treading an evil way. He asks Peter to give him in exchange for money the power of conferring the holy Spirit by the laying on of hands and draws upon himself a very stern admonition. He is not, however, obdurate beyond redemption since Peter calls upon him to repent. This call does not fall on deaf ears as he asks the apostle to pray that the threats hanging over him of which the apostle has spoken may not be realised. This must have been the tradition at a time when it was still hoped that the followers of Simon would rally to the church. Following the story of evangelisation of Samaria comes the anecdote of Philip's conversion of the Ethiopian eunuch (viii. 26-40). 1 If needed, the fact that the author of Acts believes that the privilege of conferring the Holy Spirit by the imposition of hands was confined to the apostles is plainly supported by Simon's demand made to Peter that he should give him the same power in return for money (viii. 18 f.). 2 See E.P., pp. 86 ff. 8 Origen, Celsum, vii. 8 f. According to Origen Celsum, vi. 11 the Samaritan Dositheus gave himself out to be the Messiah promised by Moses. According to Hippolytus (Philosophoumena vi. 40) Marcus declared that he possessed 'the supreme power which comes from invisible and unnamed places'. Cf. also the story of Apsesthos and his parrots told by Hippolytus (Philosophoumena vi. 8) concerning this idea of the prophet or the son of God, see Wetter, Der Sohn Go ties, Gottingen, 1916.

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In this the miraculous plays a big part. It is also noticeable that we are here in quite an advanced stage of theological thought as Isaiah liii is used to explain the death of Jesus.1 All that can be gathered from this episode is that Philip left behind the reputation of a great missionary and that his activity must have ranged in the district of Ashdod and Caesarea where we find him residing at the time when Paul stayed in Caesarea on his way for the last time to Jerusalem (xxi. 8 f.). 2.—THE FOUNDATION OF THE CHURCH AT ANTIOCH

The book of Acts tells of the foundation of the church at Antioch in remarkably sober terms. The compiler of Acts, after mentioning the Hellenists who were scattered abroad upon the persecution that arose about Stephen and then came to Phenice, Cyprus, and Antioch, says as follows:

And some of them were men of Cyprus and Cyrene, which, when they were come to Antioch, spake unto the Grecians, preaching the Lord Jesus. And the hand of the Lord was with them: and a great number believed, and turned unto the Lord (xi. 20-21).

No proper name is given; the affair is related with simplicity and sobriety. The author of this note has reported a fact without apparently possessing any clear comprehension of its significance and consequences. The text gives us no indications as to the circumstances in which the initiative to preach to the Gentiles was taken, whether it was the result of a preconcerted plan of action, which was formed from preconceived theories, or whether favouring circumstances happened to arise, which drove the Hellenists at Antioch to take the decisive step of opening the gates of the church to the Gentiles. If we ought to stick to the latter hypothesis, then it must remain true that, if the Hellenists were wise enough to be able to profit by circumstances as they arose, they were not prevented by any feeling that those who did not observe the law could not receive grace and salvation. The significance of the establishment of Christianity at Antioch, the third city in the Roman empire, and the most important in the East,2 must be emphasised. For the first time Christianity gained a foothold in one of the capital cities of the ancient world and established a church in a place which through its connections with every 1 Apart from this passage the only other explicit quotation from Isaiah liii is in i Peter ii. 22-25. * Harnack, Mission, II, p. 124.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

part of the world was destined to become a focus from which the new faith spread in every direction. The story in Acts does not tell us directly that the church at Antioch was in any perceptible way different in character from that at Jerusalem. This silence is intentional; fortunately we can fill the gap. At Antioch those who were Gentiles were not compelled to keep the law; there is no doubt that those who had been converted from Judaism continued to observe Jewish customs to some extent at any rate; they must not, however, have been very rigorous legalists as they agree in their religious life to have close relationships, with believers who had remained uncircumcised and to share meals with them (most probably the Lord's supper) (Gal. ii. 12). The book of the Acts supports the epistle to the Galatians on this point by saying (xv. i) that the Christians of Gentile origin at Antioch were both surprised and disturbed when Judaeans came to Antioch and told them that they could not be saved unless they were circumcised in accordance with the Mosaic custom. This was plainly a rule which they had never heard mentioned before. After the church at Jerusalem had learnt of the foundation of the church at Antioch it sent Barnabas there (xi. 22). Between this despatching of Barnabas to Antioch and that of Peter and John to Samaria exists a remarkable parallelism. In both cases the purpose is the same, to forge a link—at least after the first blow had been struck—between a church which had been founded by Hellenists and the mother church in Jerusalem which was represented by the Twelve. But the action taken was not the same, Peter and John's mission to Samaria is plainly a gloss in the story and entirely the product of the author's imagination. He supposed the occasion demanded it. But on the other hand we know for certain that Barnabas came to Antioch. To prove it we have only to recall that both the Acts and the epistle to the Galatians state that Barnabas with Paul represented the church of Antioch at the conference at Jerusalem, that afterwards he was first of all with Paul and then with Mark a missionary sent out by the church at Antioch, and that, as his presence at the time of the incident at Antioch proves, he appears to have stayed at Antioch in the intervals between his missionary journeys.1 If added to this it is remembered that Acts xi. 20 states that men from Cyprus and Cyrene took the initiative in preaching the gospel to the Gentiles at Antioch and that Barnabas did in fact come from Cyprus (Acts iv. 36), there appears no doubt that we 1

His name heads the list of prophets and teachers at Antioch in Acts ziii. I.

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THE CHURCH AT ANTIOCH

have every reason to think that Barnabas must be reckoned to be one of the founders of the church at Antioch.1 He must have gone there immediately after the death of Stephen.2 The epistle of the Galatians states (i. 21) that Paul stayed in Syria and Cilicia in the interval between his two missionary journeys, i.e. the eleven years preceding the conference at Jerusalem. The apostle does not mention Antioch by name as connected with the conference and only refers to it as the place where Peter and he met and faced each other.3 But there is no doubt that it was from Antioch Paul set out to Jerusalem and that it was on behalf of the church there that he fought at the conference. Acts xi. 25-26 states that it was Barnabas who went to Tarsus to look for Paul and brought him to Antioch about a year before the Jews came to Antioch on their mission which resulted in the conference. What is this information worth? Acts ix. 27-28, states that, when Paul came to Jerusalem after his conversion,4 the disciples with whom he tried to come into contact withdrew, because they did not know that he had become a Christian, until Barnabas brought him to the apostles. The story in Acts at this point lacks certainty and coherence: it does not explain how Barnabas could know of Saul's conversion, while the other Christians in Jerusalem were still unaware of it.5 The way in which the compiler of Acts recounts this affair enables us without hesitation to maintain that Barnabas and Paul were in such close contact with each other that we can understand that the former considered that the presence of the latter would be useful at Antioch. 1

Guignebert, Le Christ, p. 191. A similar fact is to be noted concerning Silas whom Acts xv. 22 mentions was sent to Antioch with Judas Barsabas to report the decisions of the conference at Jerusalem. Acts xv. 33 says that Judas Barsabas and Silas after accomplishing their mission left the brethren in peace and returned to those who had sent them, while a little further on (xv. 40) it says that Paul left Barnabas and chose Silas to help him. The editors of the Western text noted the contradiction and tried to iron it out by the addition of what is verse 34 in the received text. This, however, only emphasises the incoherence. After having said that Judas and Silas returned to those who had sent them there is added, 'Notwithstanding it pleased Silas to abide there still and Judas departed by himself*. 8 Perhaps Paul avoided mentioning Antioch by name because at the time when he was writing the letter to the Galatians his relations with this church were not 4what they had been. The Acts makes out that Paul came to Jerusalem shortly after his conversion. The epistle to the Galatians (i. 18) proves that he came considerably later 'after three5 years'. At the time when Paul made his first visit to Jerusalem, it would have been difficult for his conversion three years before to be unknown. 2

*«3

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 3.—THE NAME 'CHRISTIANS' GIVEN TO THE FAITHFUL AT ANTIOCH

The compiler of Acts also mentions one detail concerning the church at Antioch which I have refrained from considering before now to prevent my analysis from being overweighted with what should be known of the argument it has caused. 'And the disciples were called Christians first at Antioch' (xi. 2&).1 Against Bauer who maintained that the word Xpicmavos could only have come into existence in the West R. A. Lipsius2 pointed out that, although similar formations are not impossible in Latin,3 the use of words ending in avos, -^vos-, -iavos for names of partisan groups is common in Asia.4 The text of Acts clearly shows that the name 'Christians' was given to members of the church by outsiders. It was certainly devised5 1

The forms Xpyiros and Xprjoriavos are met with in various texts: pap. mag. Egyptian (Wesseley, Abh. d. Wiener Akad. d. Wiss, 1888, II, p. 75) amulet (Kaibel Inser. gr. Sidliae et Italiae, Berlin, 1890, no. 2413); epitaphs from Syracuse (Kaibel, no. 78. 154. 196), from Asia Minor (C.I.G. II, 2883, d. 3857 g.p. 3865 i) from Syria (Le Bas-Waddington, Voyage arcMologique en Syrie, Paris, 1870, III, p. 582, no. 2558). The original text of Sinaiticus had Xpyoriavovs instead of Xpurriavofa. It is the same in Acts xxvi. 28 and i Peter iv. 16, i.e. in the two other passages in the New Testament containing the words 'Christian' or 'Christianity*. We must remember also the phrase from Suetonius, impulsore Chresto. In the earliest inscriptions from Phrygia containing the term 'Christian* can be found the forms Xpumavoi, Xpewrriavoi, Xprjareiavot,, Xprjcmavoi (inscriptions mentioned by Harnack, Mission, II, p. 191, Ramsay, Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia, Oxford, 1895, pp. 558 ff. and Anderson, Paganism and Christianity in New-Phrygia, in Ramsay, History and Art of the Eastern provinces of the Roman Empire, 1906, pp. 2146°.). The earliest material evidence for the use of the term 'Christian* appears to be a graffito from Pompeii, deciphered in 1862, which has since disappeared. It contains the letters . . . HRISTIAN . . . . The inscription is too mutilated to be capable of interpretation. Concerning this graffito and the literature devoted to it see V. Schultze, Christeninschrift in Pompeii, Z.f. Kirchengesch., 1881, IV, pp. 125-130; D. Leclercq, 'Pompei*, D.A.C.L., XIV, col. 1403-1404. 8 R. A. Lipsius, Uber den Ursprung und aeltesten Gebrauch des Christennamens, Gratulationsprogramm der theol. Facultat Jena fur Hose, 1873. Cf. De Labriolle, Christianas^ Bulletin Du Conge, 1929-30, V, pp. 69-88. 3 Gerke, Der Christenname ein Scheltname, Festschrift zur Jahrhundertfeier der Universitat Breslau, 1911, pp. 360 ff., maintains the Roman origin of the term. 4 F. Blass, Xprjariavoi Xpumavoi., Hermes, 1895, XXX, pp. 465 ff. See also Lecoultre, De Vetymologic du mot 'chretien', Rev. de theol. et de phttos., 1907, XI, pp. 188-196. 5 It cannot have been devised by Jews who would have taken care not to give a name to their enemies which would have given them a claim to consider themselves the true servants of the Messiah.

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by Gentiles. It may well have first been used ironically and contemptuously;2 this would explain why for a long time it was not used by believers themselves.3 Later, when persecutions began and the nomen became a criminal offence, Christians no longer repudiated it, as, if they had done so, they would have been disavowing their faith and denying their Lord. It then became a title of honour. The fact that we do not meet with the term * Christians' in the writings of the first generation, and only rarely in those of the second and that it only became anything like current in the time of the Apologists does not constitute a valid objection to the information given in Acts xi. 26.4 In favour of the term originating at Antioch, Harnack5 uses an argument which is not without value, even though we must not consider it decisive. This is that Ignatius is the only one of the apostolic Fathers to use the terms Christian and Christianity. We can therefore agree with the majority of the commentators of Acts6 that the term Christian was coined by Gentiles at Antioch to describe the new converts shortly after the foundation of the church there. Nevertheless this fact is significant. The fact that the term Christian was at first only used of Gentile Christians7 supports the hypothesis that the church at Antioch was Hellenic in character. It also affords evidence for its importance inasmuch as outsiders found it necessary to have an appropriate term by which they could 1

The Gentile origin also explains why we have the two variants ^ Xp^ariavoi and Xpioriavoi. The name Xpiaros meant nothing to a Gentile, while we meet with the name Xpyaros although not very frequently (C.I.G., 194, 427, 1337, 1723, 2027, etc.). Cf. Blass, Hermes, 1895, XXX, pp. 465 ff. Dom Le Clercq, 'Chretiens', D.A.C.L. Ill, col. 1468. 2 Preuschen (Apgesch., p. 74) has suggested that those who claimed Christ (the Anointed) as their leader were ironically called 'the anointed ones'. Theophilus of Antioch (Ad. Autol. i. 12) knew that the name 'Christian' originally was used ironically. 3 There are thus three contexts in the New Testament containing the word. 4 The evidence from Tacitus (Ann. xv. 44) must be added which shows that the term 'Christians' was in current use in Rome in 64. This evidence cannot be rendered invalid by supposing that Tacitus is using an anachronism and has projected into the past a term which had only become current in his own time. 5 Harnack, Mission, I, p. 398. Harnack also relies on the tradition which makes Luke a native of Antioch. But the tradition is not strong enough to be used in this way. 6 It is sufficient to mention Loisy (Actes, pp. 468-470) who cannot be suspected of accepting the evidence of Acts without question. 7 Harnack (Mission, I, p. 397, n. 3) quotes from a text which has not yet been edited and mentions 'Christians and Jews who confess Christ'. The author of this text evidently does not consider the latter to be understood under the term 'Christians'.

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call its members. It proves also that the church was quite distinct from the synagogue and even from the proselytes attached to it.1 4.—THE CHURCH AT ANTIOCH AFTER 44

I have not here concerned myself with the events which disturbed the church at Antioch in 43-44 nor with the repercussions following upon it from the quarrel between the apostle Paul and the Judaising Christians. I shall return to them in another chapter. We will only note at the moment that it may well have had its origin in a difference in attitude between the church at Antioch and the apostle. Perhaps the Gentile Christians at Antioch would not have found it so difficult to accept circumcision if Barnabas and Paul especially had not exerted themselves with such vehemence against the demands of the Judaeans. Nevertheless, at the conference at Jerusalem, Paul felt that he was defending the cause of the church at Antioch as much as his own personal position. It is quite possible that he entertained some illusions on this subject and that the Christians at Antioch were much less keen than their apostle to hold fast to 'the liberty which we have in Christ* and attached less importance to the question at issue than he did. The difference between Paul and the Christians which was slight at first seems to have grown wider afterwards. It was not yet present in 43-44. The fact that Paul at the conference gained recognition for his apostleship and his gospel gave him a free hand to continue his missionary work among the Gentiles. The church at Antioch must have considered this result to be an encouragement for projects which it had undoubtedly already formed. We have no need to think that it was due to chance that immediately after the conference the church at Antioch inaugurated a series of great missionary enterprises. A note of a very modest nature (xiii. 1-3) tells us of the origin of the mission from Antioch, and we have no reason to question its value.2 It mentions six prophets and teachers:3 Barnabas, Simeon surnamed Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, 1 If Christians were only a group within the fold of Judaism, people outside would not have distinguished them from Jews or at any rate would not have been sufficiently interested in them to have given them a proper name. 2 If it was written by the author of Acts himself Paul would not have been mentioned the last after six men who left behind them a much fainter impression in the history of primitive Christianity. 3 Harnack (Mission, I, p. 323, n. 2) considers that the six persons mentioned were both prophets and teachers combined. Loisy (Acte$> p. 501) thinks that the

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Manaen, who had been brought up with Herod the Tetrarch,1 and Saul. While they rendered worship to the Lord and fasted, the holy Spirit commanded them to set apart Barnabas and Saul for the work for which he had destined them. And when they had fasted and prayed, they laid their hands on them and sent them away.2 The revelation here mentioned, it is certain, only served to put into definite action a project which had already been envisaged and entrusted to Barnabas and Saul.3 Missionary enterprise is here thought of as inspired and directed by the Spirit. On the level of human activity and thought they do not act on their own personal responsibility but as delegates of a church. In the realm of fact it clearly means that the church at Antioch organised the journey and paid the expenses incurred. After the story of the journey, to which I shall return later on,4 the envoys gave an account of what they had done before an assembly of the church at Antioch and showed 'all that God had done through them and how he had opened a door of faith unto the Gentiles' (xiv. 27). While this journey certainly does not stand out as the first time that the gospel was preached to the Gentiles, nevertheless it was the first large enterprise of a systematic character undertaken for this purpose. Its date can be fixed with certainty as the spring of 44. We cannot say how long it took or fix even approximately the date when Barnabas and Paul returned to Antioch, on which appears to depend the date when a serious quarrel arose between Peter and Paul. In short, while Paul was kept far away by his missionary activity, Peter was turned out of Jerusalem, came and settled in Antioch. terms teachers' and 'prophets* applied to two different classes of people and noticing that the conjunction between Lucius and Manaen is re not KO.I classifies Barnabas, Simeon, Niger and Lucius of Cyrene as prophets, Manaen and Saul as teachers. Ramsay (Paulus in der Apostelgeschichte> deutsche Uebesetzung von H. Groschke, Gutersloh, 1898, pp. 54 f.) had already made this distinction before Loisy. If it is true that Paul makes a distinction in i Cor. xii. 28 between the ministry of a prophet and that of a teacher, it is not rigid. The same man can combine in his own person several gifts of the spirit. Such was the case for example in Paul, who was an apostle, a prophet and a teacher as well as possessed with the gift of tongues without mentioning any other gifts which he might have possessed. Loisy thinks that except for the name Saul which was added sometime later the list composed the founders of the church at Antioch. This hypothesis should be retained although it can never be proved that it is right. 1 Or, perhaps, foster-brother. 2 The origin of this note may well be found in the story of Paul's missions which appears to have been the principal source used for the second half of the Acts. 3 The sequel shows that John Mark (xiii. 56) was their companion from the 4 start, although he only played a subordinate part. See pp. 218 f.

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There by degrees he became so influential that, when Paul and he had quite a keen dispute with each other, the church did not take Paul's side.1 We have very little information about the subsequent history of the church at Antioch. As the church at Jerusalem showed a marked decline after 70 the influence of the church at Antioch must have considerably increased. It preserved its Hellenic character as is shown by the fact that most of the names in the list of bishops of Antioch are Greek in form. It must, however, have been subject to Jewish influences. They may have met with some success as is shown by the fact that among the heresies which Ignatius attacked there is one for which he uses the term 'Judaism'.2 For want of any direct evidence some scraps of information can be gained from certain traditions. While they must be accepted on points of detail with much reserve they at least provide support for the belief that the church at Antioch preserved its importance. Acts (xi. 27-30) relates that the prophet Agabus about 43 came from Judaea to Antioch and predicted a big famine. Upon hearing this the church determined to send Barnabas and Paul to Jerusalem with money to help the church there. As we shall see further on3 the episode cannot be retained as historical. It may have arisen from a confused memory of the fact that, at the conference at Jerusalem which was held at that time, Paul had asked the Gentile churches to come to the financial aid of the church at Jerusalem which was in a bad way materially. If we accept this interpretation we are not bound to drop Harnack's.4 He considers the story in Acts to be a kind of symbolical expression of the assistance rendered by the rich church of Antioch to neighbouring churches when they found themselves in need. In the second decade of the second century the letters of Ignatius show us a man who for all his protestations of humility is proud to be bishop of Antioch and believes himself qualified by his position to instruct the other churches. His authority is certainly that of a confessor but he also speaks as bishop of Antioch. He calls this church 'the church of Syria' which after the torment of persecution had recovered 'its ancient grandeur' (Sm. xi. 2). When he asks the churches to whom he has occasion to write or to send a message to send delegates to Antioch we cannot be sure that it is only because the church needs support when it has no bishop. It may be also 1

8

See pp. 303 f. See p. 294, n. i.

2

4

iSS

See pp. 414 ff. Harnack, Mission, II, p. 125.

THE CHURCH AT ANTIOCH

because being the metropolitan church of Christendom and the most important church in the East respect from its neighbours was due to it.1 It goes without saying that no positive direct value can be attached to the affirmation of St. John Chrysostom that no church could rival that of Antioch for the number of relics it possessed2 any more than to the tradition which says that it was Ignatius who, instructed by angels, introduced the chanting of the responses into the forms of worship.3 These traditions, however, may be considered as proofs of the prestige which the church at Antioch claimed for itself and of the glory shed upon it by its past. APPENDIX—BARNABAS

Barnabas played a very important part in the church at Antioch. He may even have been one of its founders. He appears to have reflected Paul's outlook rather than Peter's. The first time we find him mentioned is in the note of Acts iv. 32-37 which describes the community of goods then characterising the church's life. We read: 'And Joses, who by the apostles was surnamed Barnabas4 (which is being interpreted, The son of consolation) (or of exhortation)5 a Levite of the country of Cyprus6 having land, sold it, and laid it at the apostles' feet' (iv. 36-37). The etymology of the name Barnabas as given in this note has been the subject of much discussion.7 Many attempts which have 1

Harnack, Mission, II, p. 126. 8 St. John Chrysostom, Horn, in coemet. appeL, i, Socrates, H.e. vi. 8. * This is the translation given by most of the commentators; it is the most probable. We may, however, translate it as Lake and Cadbury (Begin. IV, p. 49) note *Joseph surnamed Barnabas who was of the number of the apostles*. 5 The paraclesis is a religious discourse made up of exhortation, encouragement, consolation, and even reproach. The meaning given to the name Barnabas shows that he was a man who was peculiarly versed in this kind of instruction. 6 It is unnatural for the two terms 'Levite* and 'Cypriote* to be associated with each other. The word yevos would have to be watered down considerably, much more than is legitimate, if it is to mean not that Barnabas was a Cypriot by race but that he was descended from Jews who had come to Cyprus to live there. It is certainly much better frankly to recognise the contradiction and to suppose that the compiler of Acts made Barnabas a Levite because he wanted to obliterate the memory of the fact that he was not a pure Jew by race. 7 On this subject in addition to the commentaries, see Klostermann, Probleme am Aposteltext, Gotha, 1883, pp. 8 f. Schmiedel 'Barnabas*, E.B. I col. 4841!.; Dalman, Die Wortejesu I, L., 1898, p. 32; Grammatik. d. jud.palast. Aramaischen, Leipzig, 1894, P- X42» n- J > Deissmann, Bibelstudien, Marburg an der Lahn, 1895, pp. 175 ff.; Neue Bibelstudien, Marburg an der Lahn, 1897, pp. 15 ff.; 'Barnabas', Z.N.T.W., VII, 1906, pp. 91-92189 2

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

been made to explain it have not ended in any really satisfying result. It is plainly a popular derivation and therefore not more than a guess, a product of imagination to give an honourable and edifying meaning to a name which erected some surprise when it belonged to an evangelist. It was pagan and contained the name of the Babylonian god Nebo to whom it signified that its bearer was attached. Barnabas is to be equated with the form Barnebous (son or worshipper of Nebo) which appears on two inscriptions.1 As an explanation of the fantastic derivation given in Acts iv. 36 it has been suggested2 that, as this derivation was more applicable to the name Manaen rather than the name Barnabas, it originally belonged to the name Manaen in the list of prophets and teachers at the beginning of chapter xiii and that through a mistake it was applied to the name Barnabas instead of Manaen and then was transferred from chapter xiii to chapter iv. This hypothesis is too complicated to be at all probable. From iv. 36-37 we learn that Barnabas was a member of the church at Jerusalem at an early stage and that as a preacher he had notable powers of persuasion. We learn also that tradition tried to camouflage his name which contained that of a pagan god and made him out to be a Levite in order to compensate for his Cypriot origin. On this account it may well be that he was of Gentile origin, perhaps not exactly a proselyte as Nicholas is said to have been in vi. 5 but the son or grandson of a proselyte unless we are to suppose on account of his kinship to John Mark of Jerusalem (Col. iv. 10) that he was of mixed descent, having on one side ancestors belonging to the tribe of Levi, and on the other ancestors who were Cypriotes.3 1

An Aramean inscription from Palmyra of 114 of our era (De Vogue, Syrie centrale, Inser. semit., Paris, 1868, p. 53). A Greek inscription from the third or fourth century of our era from Nicopolis in the north of Syria (K. Humann und O. Puchstein, Reisen in Kleinosien und Nordsyrien, Textband, Berlin, 1890, p. 398. (Cf. Deissmann, Bibelst., p. 177; N. Bibelst., p. 16, n. I.) The transformation of the vowel e (in Nebo) into a does not cause difficulty as it is current in the transposition into Greek of the name Nebo and compounds in which it occurs. In Isa. xlvi. i where the LXX (in the manuscript B) Aquila and Theodotion have Nepvov Symmachus has Nafta). Nebucadnezzar is rendered by Nabouchodonosor in the LXX; this form is also found in Berosus, Josephus, and Strabo. See also the transposition of Nebouzaradan into Nabouzardan (manuscript A in 2 Kings zxv. 8). The form Nabu adopted by the people of Syria and Palmyra is a contraction of the full form Nabun. Syrians and Palmyrans transcribe n b w, from which comes the biblical Nebo, used both as the name of a god (Isa. xlvi, i) and of a mountain (Deut. xxxii. 49) and of a town (Numb, xxxii. 3, 38). (I owe this information to my colleague Andr6 Parrot.) a Lake-Cadbury, Begin. IV, p. 49, 8 He would then have been similar in descent to Timothy, born of a Jewish mother and a Gentile father (Acts. xvi. i).

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While we have no right to say that Barnabas belonged to the Hellenist party in Jerusalem, it is not improbable that he was more tolerant than most Christians at Jerusalem in his attitude towards Jewish ritual law because he was of Gentile or semi-Gentile descent. In the book of Acts he seems to hold a position of his own as he is described as the mediator between Paul and the Twelve after the former's conversion. I shall not give the reasons here which lead us to think that Barnabas was one of the founders of the church at Antioch and not just a delegate who was sent afterwards to create a link between it and the church at Jerusalem.1 In any case, immediately on arrival at Antioch Barnabas felt himself to be a member of the church there and behaved as if he were one. His authority there seems to have been much greater than Paul's. This perhaps was due, not only to the fact which Acts reveals that he was well known there before Paul but also and perhaps more so to the fact that Barnabas was a more supple character and less self-assertive than Paul, so that he did not create that friction which Paul seldom completely avoided in his dealings with the churches he had founded. It would be an exaggeration to say that Barnabas held prior place before Paul in the church at Antioch. Nevertheless, in the first part of Acts Barnabas is always mentioned before Paul (xi. 30; xii. 25; xiii. i, 7 and also xiv. 14; xv. 12, 25), while Paul takes first place from the time the missionaries reach Antioch in Pisidia (xiii. 43, 46, 50; xv. 2, 22, 35). This cannot be a tendacious touching up of the narrative; if the compiler had wished to show Paul's superiority over Barnabas he would have proceeded more systematically. We must therefore suppose that the situation gradually changed in the course of the voyage. It must be presumed that Paul gained the upper hand because he was bolder in initiative and capable of much more intense activity so that in the end Barnabas' gentler nature was overpowered by Paul's strong personality. The incident mentioned in Galatians ii. n ff. supports the idea that on the question of the ritual law Barnabas' position was not the same as Paul's, although according to v. 43-44 they formed a common front against the claims of the judaisers. The difference between the two men was perhaps less one of doctrine than of temperament. On the question of ritualism Barnabas did not hold such rigid and fixed ideas as possessed the mind of Paul; he was much more influenced by the practical needs of the situation and so avoided the opposition and strife which Paul stirred up. 1

See p. 182. 191

THE BIRTH OP CHRISTIANITY

Paul and Barnabas separated when they were planning a second missionary journey. It is difficult to believe that the only reason for their separation was, as the story in Acts (xv. 36-40) tells us, due to a divergence of view concerning the suitability of taking John Mark with them. On the previous journey he had accompanied Barnabas and Paul no further than Cyprus, when he left them to return to Jerusalem. The separation of Barnabas and Paul may well have resulted from the incident at Antioch, while the reference to John Mark may have been introduced in place of the real cause of the separation to make it appear less serious. The significance of the separation must not be exaggerated. Later on in the epistle to the Galatians Paul mentions Barnabas as a man who on one occasion had been carried away by an evil example but had fought by his side for the defence of the gospel and Christian liberty. In the first epistle to the Corinthians he shows him to be a missionary who had co-operated with him whole-heartedly and had followed the same methods. He mentions him in terms which show that both he and Barnabas belonged to a group of missionaries which was a different one from that to which the other apostles, the brothers of the Lord and Cephas belonged. Like Paul Barnabas worked with his hands to gain his livelihood (i Cor. ix. 6). Acts xv. 36-39 states that after being separated from Paul Barnabas with John Mark left for a missionary journey to Cyprus. We have no reason to doubt the truth of this; no value, however, can be attached to late documents1 which give an account of his missionary activity and martyrdom in Cyprus. They are legends intended to lend glory to the church in Cyprus and give it the right to affirm its independence from the church in Antioch.2 In the same way the traditions which put Barnabas among the sixty-six disciples3 as well as of what is said of him in the Acta Petri (ch. 4) or in the pseudo-clementine literature (Horn. i. 9-16; Rec. i. 60, 61) cannot be retained. A theological treatise which, in the form of a letter contains an allegorical interpretation of the Jewish sacrificial cult and appears to have been written about 130, is preserved under the title of the epistle of Barnabas. Tertullian4 also attributes to Barnabas the 1

Il€p£o8oi teat, fj,aprijpiov TOV aylov Bapvafia TOV airoaroXov (end of the fourth century or the beginning of the fifth). Acta Barnabae auctore Marco (the same period). Enkomion Barnabae by the Cypriot monk Alexander (sixth century). 2 Harnack, 'Barnabas*, R.E. II, p. 412. * On this subject see Hennecke, Neut. Apokr.t p. 125. 4 Tertullian, De pudicitia, 20. 192

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epistle to the Hebrews but the way in which he does it shows that he was not making a personal guess but following a tradition of which we have no other knowledge. There can be no question of attributing either of these two compositions to Barnabas. The epistle to the Hebrews is not a composition of the first Christian generation neither is what is called the epistle of Barnabas for much more cogent reasons. The attribution of them to Barnabas is only of interest as showing what the primitive early church remembered of his career.1 1

There also existed at a fairly early period a gospel of Barnabas of which nothing survives (except according to Resch two quotations which have little significance. That they belong to it can only be purely a matter of conjecture. See above Hennecke, Neut. Apok., p. 64, n. 2). Concerning the gospel of Barnabas see Harnack, G.0.L., I, p. 18; Zahn, G.K., II, p. 292.

13

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CHAPTER III

The Apostle Paul and Paulinism1 I.—PAUL'S SIGNIFICANCE AND THE CHARACTER OF HIS THOUGHT

WHEN the Hellenist missionaries at Antioch turned to the Gentiles and did not ask them to submit to the demands of the Jewish ritual law, they instinctively felt that their faith could not remain strictly confined within the framework of Judaism. Subsequently Barnabas and the church at Antioch showed some hesitation in their attitude towards those who maintained that Christians were obliged to keep the ritual commands of the Jewish law. Although they instinctively felt that the gospel was independent from Judaism they had not clearly grasped the fact and given it formal expression. Nevertheless the set-up of the Hellenic church at Antioch marked an important stage in the establishment of Christianity as a religion independent of Judaism, but this advance still needed to be consolidated. The relations between Christianity and Judaism had to be clearly thought out to secure the former's independence. This was the task of the apostle Paul or, one should rather say, one aspect of his task. He cut the gospel free from the chains with which Judaism was in danger of strangling it. At the same time his missionary journeys caused its vigorous expansion while the incomparable power of his preaching gave it forms of expression which have lasted for centuries and even now form the classic expression of the Christian faith. For this reason the figure of Paul towers above the whole of the first generation of Christians, although he was not the first nor the only missionary of his time and he certainly was not the most influential.2 Both in the very heart of the church and even in the 1

The literature about Paul and Paulinism is extremely abundant. The most essential references will be found in my book, Introd. IV, 1-2. Albert Schweitzer's book (Paid and his Interpreters) is especially important for the theological interpretation of Paulinism. 9 i Cor. ix. 4-6, shows, however, that Paul felt that he and Barnabas of the

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communities founded by him he met with misunderstanding and hostility. He died in isolation, in the midst of general indifference from believers, but scarcely ten years after his disappearance, the cause for which he had struggled and which appeared to die with him, that of Christian universalism freed from all ritualism, had gained complete victory. Less than a generation after his death, what could be recovered from his letters was collected into a corpusl and remained the principal source of Christian theology. Paul defined the relationship of Christianity with Judaism and in this way gave it a structure which was never subsequently modified in spite of Marcion's attempts to do so, and so far as can be seen could never be called in question without shaking the very foundations of Christianity. He proved Christianity to be the fulfilment of the promise made to Abraham and thus forged a definite link between Christianity and the religion of the patriarchs, Moses, and the prophets along the lines hinted at by Jesus, while his theory that Christ had brought to an end the reign of the law brought to birth the universal religion which was potentially present in the gospel. It may be said that Paul's doctrine of salvation provided an explanation of Christian experience and laid the foundations of christology in a form which the Hellenic spirit could assimilate. We know that some historians have claimed that Paul was the second founder of Christianity and have thought his labours to have been as important as those of the first if not more so.2 Yet this is to misunderstand his work. In the development of a religion we have to distinguish between devotion to a new religious object on the one hand, which is a real creative act, and on the other hand, the way in which this experience is expressed together with the organisation of a religious society without which it cannot be preserved in a settled condition. There is no doubt that without Paul Christianity would never have become established in the form in which we find it. Perhaps it might have evaporated away but with Paul and without missionaries of the first generation formed the group which made the greatest sacrifices for their work. 1 The corpus patdinum seems to have been formed at the beginning of the last decade of the first century between the composition of the book of Acts and that of the epistle of Clement of Rome to the Corinthians. This must have taken place in Greece. On this question see Zahn, G.K., I, pp. 811-839; Harnack, Die Briefsamndung des Apostels Patdus und die anderen vorkonstantinischen christlicher Briefsammlungen, Leipzig, 1926; Lietzmann, 'Einfuhrung in die Textgeschichte der Paulusbriefe', An die Romerz, Tubingen, 1933, pp. i ff. 2 It is to be noticed that Guignebert following many others maintains this thesis in his last book Le Christ.

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Jesus it would never have been born. The work of Jesus cannot be compared with that of Paul; they do not belong to the same species and were not undertaken with the same purpose. There is nothing more untrue than the idea that Paulinism is an abstract theological system. None of the ideas expressed by Paul or of the doctrines formulated by him mean anything if they are divorced from the religious experiences which suggested them and of which they are the expression. Paul was anything but a theorist. His interior life, his activity as a missionary and leader of the churches formed an indissoluble whole, and a whole which was constantly in motion. His ever active thoughts were centred on the idea of a movement. His theology was not of a God as a being but of a God who wills and acts. It is perfectly true that at the basis of Paul's thought lies a complete theology which he had inherited from Judaism concerning God, the creation, man, his destiny, and his position in the world and before God. But Paul does not demonstrate it as his theology; it forms the assumptions of Paulinism not Paulinism itself. It is a commonplace to mention the systematic character of Paul's thought and to describe the apostle as the first and greatest Christian thinker and the creator of the church's theology. The epistles contain the elements of a vast apocalypse, which begins with the revolt of Satan against God and even with the creation of the world while its end is the glory of God. Satan caused men to fall into sin by forcing them to give him and the demons the worship and adoration which was due only to God. In this way he associated them with the revolt by which he desired to make himself equal with God.1 The entering of sin into man and the world provoked God's anger, which would have brought the corrupt world with the rebel spirits and sinful men to an end, if God, moved by pity and for the sake of his glory, had not undertaken a work of redemption which is superimposed on his work of creation. Both man and the universe are to be redeemed or perhaps we should say man is to be redeemed in a cosmic setting.2 1 Rom. i. 18-23. Paul does not expressly mention Satan's revolt against God but it was an idea current in Jewish thought. It is implied in the christological argument developed in Phil. ii. 6-n, where it is said that Christ did not seek to make himself equal with God. The negative form of the sentences at the beginning show that this picture of Christ is like one side of a diptych. On the other side there is a corresponding picture of a celestial being, Satan, who wished to be equal with God, i.e. to gain for himself the worship due to God. 2 See my article *Le r61e de Telement cosmologique dans la soteriologie paulinienne', R.h.p.r., 1935, XV, pp. 335-359196

APOSTLE PAUL AND PAULINISM Paul gave to this general framework which he did not create but inherited from Judaism his personal interpretation, which far from being systematic and coherent shows flagrant contradictions. These appear not only on secondary questions but on such essential points as the interpretation of the death of Christ, the conditions of attaining salvation, and the calling of the Gentiles which the abrogation of the Jewish law made possible. Although I wish to anticipate as little as possible the analysis of Pauline thought which I shall give later on, I must make this point clear because it must be grasped if one is to see Paulinism in correct perspective. The importance which the apostle attached to the idea of the death of Christ cannot be exaggerated. It is such an essential element in his preaching that the whole faith rests on Jesus-Christ crucified (i Cor. i. 23; ii. 2) or on the cross of Jesus-Christ (i Cor. i.' 17, 18). We meet, however, with ideas concerning this important point which cannot be harmonised with each other. In i Corinthians v. 7, where Paul says 'Christ our passover is sacrificed for us', he seems to conceive the death of Christ to resemble the sacrifice of the paschal lamb, while elsewhere (Gal. iii. 13; Rom. v. 17; viii. 3) he seems to be thinking of another type of levitical sacrifice, of purification, redemption, or expiation. In the epistle to the Colossians (ii. 14-15) Paul declares that by the cross Christ has triumphed over hostile demonic powers and has plundered them. We meet with a similar but not identical idea in i Corinthians ii. 8 which says that none of the princes of this world knew of the plan of redemption conceived of by the wisdom of God, for, had they known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.1 In other passages Paul has recourse to the idea of substitution to explain the efficacy of the death of Christ. In Galatians iii. 13 he says that Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us.2 Although this is not really the idea of substitution it closely resembles it. Paul nearly always returns to it, when he is trying to explain how the death of Christ makes the justification of the sinner possible. It is the idea of expiation through the union of the innocent with the 1

The idea expressed here is that the spiritual powers, who direct the march of events, by crucifying Jesus, i.e. by causing Pilate to put him to death, without knowing it have contributed to God's plan for the salvation of sinners and for their own destruction. We can see here the old folklore-theme of the tricked demon. 2 The preposition vrrep is ambiguous in the Koine and sometimes means 'in place of and at other times 'on behalf of. In Gal. iii. 13, the meaning 'in place of must be preferred.

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guilty. God treated Christ 'who knew no sin' as if he was the sin itself and in his flesh condemned this sin (2 Cor. v. 21) so that, when Christ died, divine justice was satisfied and forgiveness made possible. These various interpretations of the death of Christ are not all on the same level. The idea of the condemnation of sin in the flesh of Christ has a greater importance than any of the others. Paul does not just state it once in passing but returns to it again and again and upon it bases his whole theory of the sinner's justification. The other ideas, however, are not to be considered null and void. The problem covers them all: why cannot we find in Paul a homogeneous theory of redemption through the death of Christ? We cannot escape it by taking refuge in subtle interpretations for the sake of unifying the divergent ideas which Paul puts out. If we were to find a solution by this method which would have to satisfy us on other counts, we should have to make use of ideas and arguments which cannot by any means be attributed to the apostle. Deissmann1 suggests that the various formulae concerning the death of Christ to be found in the epistles should be considered as parallel but independent attempts to explain and express experiences which by their very nature escape strict definition. A real unity exists between them but it comes from the religious experience to which they all refer, like the unity between the views of a mountain as seen from the four points of the compass. If we enquire into what Paul considers to be the conditions for the accomplishment of salvation, we shall meet with analogous statements which, however, are much sharper in form. The believer who has been justified and united to Christ by faith and the sacraments is no longer in principle a being of flesh but has become a spiritual being. He continues, however, to live in the flesh. Justification thus keeps a theoretic character; it is not salvation. The believer is only saved by hope (Rom. viii. 24). The death and resurrection of Christ guarantee for him a deliverance which, however, has not yet been realised. To the question, 'How will salvation be accomplished?', Paul's theology provides not one answer but two, i Thessalonians iv. 13-18 and i Corinthians xv. 20-58 say that in order to be able to inherit the kingdom of God the man who is flesh and blood will have to undergo a transformation. Paul says that those who die before the return of the Lord will remain until then in a state of sleep or provisional prostration and 1

Deissmann, Paulus, Eine kultur- und religionsgeschichtliche Skizze, Tubingen, 19", P-95I98

APOSTLE PAUL AND PAULINISM

then will rise again with a body which will be no longer terrestrial, carnal, and psychical, but spiritual and heavenly. The others among whom Paul ranges himself will undergo an instantaneous transformation as soon as the Lord appears to make the final assault which will end in the establishment of the reign of God.1 In other contexts Paul does not make the parousia to be the means by which salvation is accomplished and so renders it practically useless, at least so far as the elect are concerned. In 2 Corinthians iv. i6-v. 10 he distinguishes two elements in man. One he calls the outward man: it is the human personality so far as it is determined by the fact that it is descended from Adam; it is dominated by the powers of death and destined to destruction. Paul pictures this destruction as progressive, death in the customary sense of the word only signifying the final end. The inward ma*i which grows as the outward man perishes is the new creation which is realised in him who is 'in Christ'. The believer who knows that this new personality has been born and is growing in himself longs for the time when it will be able to escape out of the fetters and limitations which life in the flesh imposes upon it. The same idea is to be found in the first chapter of the epistle to the Philippians which expresses a real yearning for death as the time when the apostle will be fully 'with Christ'. The idea of an intermediate period of sleep between the death of each believer and the parousia of the Lord is quite foreign to the eschatology of both the second epistle to the Corinthians and the epistle to the Philippians. Further on we shall have to enquire why these two eschatologies exist side by side and how it can be explained;2 for the moment it is sufficient to point them out and to observe that Paul never seems to be at pains to harmonise his views on the individual and collective accomplishment of salvation. The idea of the calling of the Gentiles to salvation also had capital importance for Paul. Its importance was not only theological but also practical since he never ceased in the whole of his career to struggle in its defence. Paul had far too much respect for the authority of the Old Testament ever to free himself from the idea that there was a fundamental difference between the chosen people and the Gentiles. Besides this he retained a feeling of national pride even though his assurance of salvation which he had entertained before 1 There is no doubt that Paul did not mention the idea of the transformation of those who will be still alive at the parousia in the first epistle to the Thessalonians, because, when he wrote of this development, he was not concerned with those who had died before the parousia. * See pp. 272 ff. I99

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

his conversion had collapsed (Phil. iii. 4-6; 2 Cor. xi. 2I-22).1 The whole argument of Romans ix-xi shows how Paul remained attached to an instinctive and dogmatic belief in Israel's privileges. The phrasing of Romans i. 16 must be understood literally. Salvation was intended first for the Jews and only afterwards for the Gentiles. Although universalism is a peculiar characteristic of Christianity it was not an absolute novelty. Ad. Lods2 showed that the idea of a universal church without any distinction of race and rite was the ultimate aim and end of the religion of the prophets but was hindered and thwarted in Judaism by a series of contrary forces. The new faith triumphed over these forces and universalism spontaneously sprang up in the primitive church. It was present as a fact before any theory arose to justify it a posteriori. Paul is the only man to our knowledge who felt the need to formulate a theory in support of it. But he offered and sketched out a whole series of explanations which, however, cannot be unified. I shall enumerate them in the order of the documents in which they are described. Galatians iii. 16 states that the promise made to Abraham, which Paul3 considered to be the foundation of the religion of Israel was not intended to benefit all the descendants of the patriarch but only one of them. By means of rabbinic exegesis Paul deduces this from the fact that the text of Genesis (xii. 7) speaks of 'his seed' and maintains without taking into account that the word is a collective noun in the singular that the promise refers to Christ alone and through his mediation to all those who believe in him and belong to him, whether they are Jews or Gentiles. 'And so', he concludes, 'the blessing of Abraham is come to the Gentiles' (iii. 14). In this theory the function of the law is quite subordinate and provisional. It came 430 years after the covenant and cannot annul it (Gal. iii. 17). Its function is simply to exercise a provisional discipline like a schoolmaster (iii. 24).* Furthermore, it 'concludes all under sin' (iii. 22), i.e. to say it must make all, Jew and Gentile alike, feel convinced that there is no possibility of salvation at all apart from Christ. This, however, is not altogether coherent. Two functions are attributed to 1 To these may be added Rom. ix. 1-5, in which two sentiments are mixed up together: pride of race and Paul's feelings of loyalty to his own people. * Ad. Lods, 'Les antecedents de la notion d'l£glise en Israel et dans le judaisme', Origine et nature de rfiglise, Conferences & la Faculte libre de theologie protestante de Paris, Paris, 1939, pp. 9-50. 8 In this passage at any rate, as he appears elsewhere not to ascribe to the law such a subordinate function. 4 The word pedagogue means here supervisor not teacher. 200

APOSTLE PAUL AND PAULINISM the law, (i) a temporary function, which belongs especially to the ritual law. This is to provide a discipline for humanity so long as it is spiritually under age, i.e. until Christ comes; (2) a permanent function which is to create a consciousness of sin. This function persists in the Christian economy as the development of Paul's own Christian life clearly shows.1 Thinking especially of the ritual function of the law Paul shows in Galatians iii. 11 that it is only valid until the arrival of the inheritor of the promise, i.e. Christ.2 When the work of Christ is accomplished, the law ceases to be valid. No particular act of God or Christ was necessary to make it null and void just as no particular act is needed to put an end to the powers of guardians over the property of their wards when they attain their majority. The long argument in Romans ix-xi shows that in principle salvation was intended for the Jews alone; it was only offered to the Gentiles because the Jews did not accept it; in spite of Jewish incredulousness God's plan to establish a Messianic people must be accomplished. Jewish incredulousness therefore made the salvation of the Gentiles possible. As Paul meditates on Israel's destiny, he comes to form the grandiose idea that God has used the incredulousness of the Jews as a means of making the salvation of the Gentiles possible but once this result is obtained the incredulousness of Israel will not last. And so Israel in one way and the Gentiles in another will all be saved. While, as we have seen, the epistle to the Galatians states that the law became null and void as soon as Christ's work was accomplished, the epistle to the Colossians gives us a different idea (ii. 14-15). The separation between the Jews and the Gentiles was founded on the law. Christ by the cross destroyed the law. He gained a victory over the powers in revolt and destroyed the document which was hostile to the Gentiles, i.e. the law which condemned them to remain outside the covenant with God and cut them off from every hope of salvation. Christ nailed it to the cross and annulled it.3 Ephesians ii. 14 f. presents the same idea where it is said that Christ by his death destroyed 'the wall of separation' between the Jews and the Gentiles and united humanity. 1

See E.P., pp. 450 ff. It looks as if he must mean up till the time when his work is completed. The phrasing here is somewhat vague which is due to the fact that Paul is thinking of Christ's work theologically not historically. 3 A reference to the custom of cancelling a bill or contract by pricking it with a hole. 2OI 2

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

Thus the epistle to the Galatians, the epistle to the Romans, as well as the epistles to the Ephesians and the Colossians express the idea that the law has lost its force and that it cannot be resisted any longer or imposed upon the Gentiles; but this idea is expressed and defended by three different theories which cannot be harmonised. From these observations it must first of all be inferred that Paulinism does not possess the systematic character which is sometimes ascribed to it. But this is not all and is not the most essential point. The most important thing to be inferred from these notes is that in Paulinism, theology compared with religious experience is a secondary element both psychologically and chronologically. Experience creates the expression, while from the second generation onwards the doctrinal statement led to the experience.1 To prevent any misunderstanding I must be more precise. While in the case of the apostle Paul a direct connection between experience and doctrine can be established it must not be supposed that his theology is essentially subjective in character and is nothing more than speculation on his own personal experience. On the contrary, he considers it to be the expression of an objective redemptive drama the reality of which does not depend in any way upon the experience of believers or on the benefits they can gain from it. This is the logical conclusion of a number of considerations which can be clearly indicated. To begin with, Paul writes of his own experience in such a way that it is clear that it is not just his own but that of all believers and the whole church. To give only one example, in Galatians iv. 4 he writes, 'God sent forth his Son . . . made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption (i.e. that we might become sons of God)', and speaking to the Galatians, he continues, 'and that you might be sons of God (i.e. what proves that you are is that) God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father*. This passage is quite characteristic with 'we* and 'you* being interchanged. In the second place, Paul reckons that the Old Testament reveals the doctrine of redemption and adoption to those from whose eyes the veil has been removed which had prevented the Israelites from grasping it. 1 See my article Taulinisme et Johannisme, Deux theologies ou deux formes d'experience religieuse?' Trots Etudes sur la pensee religieuse du christianisme primitif, Paris, 1931, PP-43ff202

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Paulinism has two characteristics which at first sight may seem to contradict each other. In the epistle to the Galatians Paul declares in the most categorical manner that he holds his apostleship and his gospel which in his eyes are inseparable, direct from God and Christ. Before his conversion he was acquainted with the kerygma, i.e. the Christian preaching. He knew that Jesus' disciples preached that God had raised up Christ and had exalted him on to his right hand but he held this preaching to be absurd and blasphemous. He had read in the book of Deuteronomy (xxi. 23) this rule, 'Cursed is he who is hung on the tree*. How could it be conceived that God had accomplished a miracle of resurrection in favour of a man, on whom had rested the weight of God's curse, and furthermore had raised him to his right hand? He could only then use all his resources to fight such blasphemous preaching which, if tolerated, might bring the wrath of God of Israel. He came to believe in the resurrection of Jesus, not because the Twelve affirmed it but because he himself experienced an appearance of Christ, because he was convinced that he had seen Jesus alive after his death, in the same way as previously Cephas, the Twelve, more than five hundred brethren, James, all the apostles, i.e. all those enumerated in i Corinthians xv. 4-7 had seen him. 'Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?' he says in i Corinthians ix. i. It is difficult to say precisely what this appearance of Christ was but it is beyond argument that what happened on the road to Damascus he considered to be an act of God by which God revealed to him His son in order that he might preach Him to the Gentiles (Gal. i. 15-16). It must be added that Paul never felt that his conversion was the only moment in his life when God intervened. During the whole course of his life as a Christian and an apostle he felt that both his thoughts and his acts were guided by the Spirit of God. Thus the governing circumstances which brought Paul to the faith contained all the elements which might have led him—and I am tempted to write which ought to have led him—to think himself to have been endowed with a completely new and fresh revelation. But instead of founding a new religion on the revelations which he had received and continued to receive, he adhered to a religion, which at any rate in principle, had been previously established, although it did not possess any fixed form in the realm of worship, doctrine, organisation, etc. Everything was still fluid and in a state of becoming. Yet he determined to maintain contact with it in spite of all the difficulties and even the dangers to which he was thereby exposing himself. 203

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In i Corinthians xv what he first quotes as a proof of the resurrection of Jesus is the tradition which he has received and transmitted, expressed in the rhythmic phrases which form the earliest confession of the church's faith. Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures And he was buried He rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures And he was seen by Cephas, then by the Twelve. After giving a list of appearances of which he knew—it does not seem as if it was intended that the list should be exhaustive—he mentions the one which he himself experienced merely by way of an appendix and describes it as the last of all, which only means that he did not know of any later than his own.1 Paulinism is thus both a personal religion springing from inspiration and a religion inherited from a tradition. It is easy to understand the reason for this. Paul's gospel was summed up in Christ crucified or in the cross of Christ. He did not reckon the drama of the cross to be a metaphysical drama which had been unfolded outside the realm of time and space. It is a drama which had taken place at a particular moment of time and in a particular place on earth. He who was both its victim and its hero may have been more than man, but he was so fully clothed in humanity that he could represent humanity before God together with human sin and, if one may say so, could incarnate this sin in his own person. How otherwise could God have condemned this sin and thereby have expiated and annulled it with its consequences in the flesh of one who did not know sin so making possible salvation from sins? (Rom. viii. 3; 2 Cor. v. 21.) But Paul did not witness the drama of the cross.2 He only knew of it through the church at Jerusalem and the Twelve, who were its leaders and mouthpiece. Paul was anxious to keep in touch with the Twelve, because they were the bearers and guarantors of the tradition, in spite of all the difficulties which this brought upon him.3 1

In the Pauline christology there is nothing to justify the belief that from a particular moment of time no further appearances could occur. 2 It is often supposed that he was not in Jerusalem during Jesus' ministry and trial there. This may be so. But it is also possible that Jesus' trial and execution made less impression than the gospel stories suggest and many of the inhabitants of Jerusalem may not have known about them. 8 When Paul came to Jerusalem for the last time after the crises in Galatia and Greece, his purpose was to assure himself that the agreement of 43-44 still held good. He was not sure that he would receive a warm welcome from the church at Jerusalem and he could not help but know that his presence at Jerusalem would offer provocation to the Jews as they considered him a renegade and an 204

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Paulinism is a theology based on a tradition for another reason. When Paul became a Christian he did not feel that he had ceased to be a Jew on that account. On the contrary, he had become more truly and fully what he had not been before, because his conversion revealed to him the true meaning of the Old Testament. In 2 Corinthians iiit 3, 12 ff. Paul finds a personal meaning of his own in the incident concerning the veil with which Moses covered his face when he came down from Sinai to prevent the Israelites being terrified by the bright light which shone from his face through having contemplated the glory of God.1 He gives the incident an allegorical interpretation. The Israelites have Moses' veil on their face when they read the Old Testament and it makes them blind to the fact that it witnesses to Christ. For that reason Paul did not consider that by his conversion he had broken with Judaism. On the contrary he thought that it had given him a deeper knowledge of the true meaning of the Old Testament. 2.—THE LIFE OF THE APOSTLE PAUL

Paul's thought was so closely bound up with his personal life and preaching that, if we are to understand it, we must begin by giving a short biographical sketch. There is no doubt that St. Paul2 was born in the first decade of apostate and had been trying to create some incident which would make it possible to get rid of him. Rom. xvi. 17, which was written by Paul to the Romans when he was preparing to leave for Jerusalem, shows that he took into account the dangers which he was going to face. 1 His interpretation of the story is different from that of the Old Testament because he supposes that Moses had had to wear the veil to prevent the Israelites from being able to say that the brightness had disappeared. 2 Traditional exegesis (in antiquity, e.g. Origen, Comm. in ep. ad. Rom. praef.; Jerome, In philem., 6; Augustine. Conf.t VIII, 4, etc., and among modern commentators, e.g. Meyer, Ursprung. u. Anf., Ill, p. 197) considered that Saul took the name of Paul in memory of the proconsul Sergius Paulus, the first Roman to be converted by him (Acts xiii, 6 ff.). A change of name was legally possible (Mommsen, 'Die Rechtsverhaltnisse des Apostels Paulus', Z.N.T.W., 1901, II, p. 84). Dessau. Der Name des Apostels Paulus Hermes, 1910, XLV, p. 347, mentions the case of a Cypriot who adopted the name of C. Ummidius Quadratus, one of Sergius Paulus' predecessors. It is not impossible that the compiler of Acts may be explaining the double name of Saul-Paul in this way. But the apostle in accordance with current usage (see the examples given by Deissmann, Bibelstudien, pp. 182 fT.) seems to have had two names at the same time which sounded like each other, one Semitic and the other Greek. Also as a Roman citizen Paul must have had a nomen, apraenomen, and a cognomen. Zahn ('Paulus', R.E. XV, p. 70) suggests that Saul was his nomen and Paul his cognomen. G. A. Harrer ('Saul who is also called Paul', Harv. Th. Rev., 1940, XXXIII, pp. 19-34) has suggested another 205

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the Christian era1 at Tarsus in Cilicia (Acts ix. n; xxi. 39; xxiii. 3). His Jewish origin was only called in question by his enemies at a late date.2 His family possessed the double rights of being citizens of both Rome3 and Tarsus.4 We do not know how they acquired them. They do not appear to have belonged to the lowest classes of the population.5 Although they were domiciled abroad they remained strongly attached to their national traditions, as they boasted that they were of pure Hebrew race and belonged to the tribe of Benjamin (Phil. iii. 5).6 Paul was a Pharisee and was taught by the Rabbi.7 interpretation. He makes 'Paul' not a proper name but a surname (signum or supernomen) which it was customary to give in Macedonian Egypt. This hypothesis is not so convincing as that which considers 'Saul* and 'Paul* to be two of the three official names of the apostle. 1 Acts vii. 58 makes him out to have been a young man (veayias) at the time of Stephen's death about 30. We can hardly suppose from the part which he played in the persecution that he was then less than 25 years old. In the letter to Philemon v. 9, written between 58 and 60 he describes himself as an old man TipcajSvnjs). The conjecture of Bentley and others reading irpea/UcvTys (ambassador of Christ) is not convincing. Paul, at the age of 55, considering the Ufe he had led, might well have called himself an old man. 2 Epiphanius (Haer. XXX. 16, 25) states that the Ebionites questioned the Jewish origin of Paul by saying that being a Greek by race Paul had himself circumcised in the hope of marrying the high-priest's daughter. Because she rejected him he detested Judaism and attacked it. This is a legend concocted to explain prejudicial views and affords no reason for thinking that there is any historical tradition behind it. Paul's Jewish origin has been called in question by some modern writers (Krenkel, Beitrage zur AufheUung des Geschichte und der Briefe des Apostels Paulus2, Braunschweig, 1895, pp. 4 f.; Toussaint, UHellenisme de Vapdtre, Paul, Paris, 1921, p. 190) without adequate reasons. Jerome (Comm. in Philem., 23; De viris inl. 5) collected local traditions which stated that Paul's family originated in Gischala in Galilee and came to reside in Tarsus when he was still a small boy. But they have no value and are to be considered a product of local patriotism. 8 It has sometimes been doubted whether Paul was really a Roman citizen (e.g. Hausrath, Jesu und die neutestamentlichen Schriftsteller, Berlin, 1908, II, pp. I97ff.). It is true that although the law did not allow a Roman citizen to be scourged he submitted to being scourged three times (2 Cor. xi. 25) but the law may have been violated to his loss as it was at Philippi according to Acts xvi. 37. (Cf. Schurer, Gesch. Ill, p. 85, n. 24; Juster, Les Juifs de VEmp. rom.t II, p. 15, n. 8, p. 165, n. 2.) Paul may have renounced his privileges as a Roman citizen in order to maintain his union with his own people. He laid claim to them at Jerusalem because he had finally broken with them and there was no advantage in not making use of them. 4 On the possibility of holding double rights of citizenship see Schurer, Gesch. Ill, p. 86; Mommsen, Z.N.T.W., 1901, II, p. 82, n. 2. 8 Wendland, Die urchristlichen Literaturformen, Tubingen, 1912, p. 353; Boehlig, Die Geisteskultur von Tarsus, Gottingen, 1913, pp. 128 f. 6 It is for that reason no doubt that his Jewish name was that of the only king who belonged to the tribe of Benjamin. 7 In Acts xxiii. 6, Paul declares himself to be 'a Pharisee, the son of a Pharisee'. Some authors (Renan, Les Apdtres, p. 165; Harnack, Mission, II, p. 44; Johannes 206

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We have some information concerning his personal appearance. Some of it1 must be received with great caution, while the rest consists of Paul's personal allusions to his physical weaknesses. They are too vague for us to be able to give them any precise meaning. This much can be admitted. Paul's appearance had nothing imposing about it (2 Cor. x. 10) and he suffered several attacks of painful illness, which may well have been the symptoms of a chronic complaint.2 He speaks of it as an angel of Satan which buffeted him, as a thorn which was in his flesh from which he had prayed three times to be freed but the Lord had refused (2 Cor. xii. 7-9). The many and various diseases which it has been suggested were meant by this evil, haemorrhoids, ophthalmia, leprosy, Malta fever, chronic rheumatism, and many more, show that we have not got sufficient information to make a retrospective diagnosis. All we know is that Paul was puny and unhealthy, extremely sensitive, and subject to alternating bouts of enthusiasm and despondency; his influence owes nothing to his physical make-up. His fiery soul had only a feeble body at its disposal. Weiss, Urchrist., p. 13) take this literally, although it is not certain that the party of the Pharisees were represented in the diaspora. 'Father* was the title given to the Rabbi. (Cf. Matt, xxiii. 9 and the title of the treatise Pirke Aboth = the traditions of the fathers.) Acts xxiii. 6 and Gal. i. 14 in which Paul speaks of the traditions of the fathers probably only mean that he had been taught by the rabbis. This is how Lietzmann, An die Calater3, Tubingen, 1932, p. 7, interprets it. 1 This applies to the description of the apostle given in the Ada Pauli et Theclae (ch. 3). (Tertullian De baptismo, 17, states that these Acts were written about 180 by a presbyter from Asia, amore Pauli.) Some writers (Renan, Les Apdtres, p. 170; Zahn, G.K. II, pp. 903 f.; Salomon Reinach, 'Thecla', Cultes, mythes et religions, Paris, 1912, IV, pp. 243-249; Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 413) think that this description can be retained on the strength of the supposition that as it is not generally flattering an admirer of Paul would not have imagined it. But we cannot judge the description by modern aesthetic standards. It must be remembered that the writer of Acta Pauli et Theclae had distinct ascetic tendencies. In addition to this, the arguments advanced by those who reckon the portrait to be only a literary creation seem to us to be more convincing. Such are the opinions of Clemen ('Miszellen zu den Paulusakten', Z.N.T.W., 1904, V, pp. 228 f.; C. Schmidt, Acta Pauli2, Leipzig, 1905, p. xvii, and Vouaux, Les Actes de Paul et ses lettres apocryphes, Paris, 1913, pp. 122 f.; R. Eisler (IH20Y2 II, pp. 414 f.) believes that he can find contradictions in the portrait and on this propounds a theory that an authentic description of the apostle has been touched up to make it more flattering. It is much more reasonable to see in these contradictions which are by no means flagrant the result of two opposing tendencies similar to those which were at work in descriptions of Jesus. Sometimes he was described as the most beautiful of the children of men and at other times as the man who had taken on himself all the sufferings of mankind. 2 Gal. iv. 13. I Thess. iii. i. I Cor. ii. 3. II Cor. xii. 7-9. See also Intr., IV, I, pp. 129 ff207

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 1

At Tarsus he received his early education. This fact is important. Situated at a place where four roads meet, at the entrance to the passes of the Taurus mountains which lead to the interior of Asia Minor Tarsus was a link between two worlds. Subject to the influences of Syria, Macedonia, and Rome alike, the seat of an important Jewish colony, through Tarsus there flowed the religions and philosophies of both the East and the West. In the time of Paul it was the centre of a new syncretistic religion: the mysteries of Mithras had perhaps already penetrated there. According to Strabo's evidence2 it could count as a rival to Athens and Alexandria. Paul's early education was Greek both in form and language. Greek is his mother tongue and the way in which he expresses his ideas, reasons, and argues, shows an acquaintance with the logical forms used by the Stoics.3 There is abundant evidence to show that he used the Septuagint and never quotes from the Hebrew Old Testament.4 The Greek of his letters is not a translation of Aramaic. Wendland5 plainly proves that Paul's style is not Attic Greek but refuses to describe it as non-literary and popular in form. Norden6 goes so far as to consider his works a Greek classic and von WillamowitzMoellendorf7 considers that although his style was careless he made masterly use of the rhetorical forms used by the sophists of Asia Minor. Paul's letters show a'complete disregard for balance and harmony in composition. Constantly the course of his argument is broken up by incidents and digressions and becomes disjointed with anacoloutha. His thought is often extremely condensed; important elements are taken for granted or scarcely hinted at. It seems as if Paul could not find the words to fit his thoughts quick enough, because he was accustomed to dictate. In spite of these defects Paul's letters show incomparable power and real eloquence. Although his genius was too original and tumultuous to allow him to bend it to classic form, he was a true master of the literary art and the art was Greek not Jewish.8 1

Concerning Tarsus and its culture see Boehlig's book, Die Geistesk. v. Tarsus. * Strabo, xiv. 10, 13-15. * See Bultmann's book, Der StU der paulimschen Predigt ubd die kymsch-stoische Diatribe, Gottingen, 1910. 4 Vollmer, Die alttestamentlichen Citate bei Paulus, Freiburg in Brisgau, Leipzig, 5 1895, p. 103. Wendland, Urckristl. Literaturf., p. 353. * Norden, Antike Kuntsprosa? Berlin, Leipzig, 1909, I, pp. 506 ff. 7 Willamowitz-Moellendorf, Die Kultur des Gegenwart, TeU. I. 8 Paul's vocabulary (cf. Th. Naegeli, Der Wortschatz des Apostels Paulus, Gottingen, 1905) is that of the common language of his time, strongly tainted, however, with that of the LXX. While the syntax is generally speaking correct, it is characterised by the frequent use of conjunctions and connecting particles. 208

APOSTLE PAUL AND PAULINISM We are not on this account compelled to put on one side the statement in Acts xxi. 40 that Paul was acquainted with Aramaic1 nor that in Acts xxii. 3, that he had been the pupil of Gamaliel in Jerusalem.2 He did not, however, receive from him his early education. His ways of thinking and feeling are so essentially Jewish that he must have been familiarised with the teachings of Judaism from his childhood onwards in his father's house. He must have come to Jerusalem later merely to finish his education in Rabbinics. Although Paul was a Jew of the diaspora and imbued with the idea of Israel being the chosen people he had nothing to do with politics. The sincerity of his loyalty to Rome was never questioned. Although he was constantly haunted by the apocalyptic hope what he hoped for was the establishment of the kingdom of God not the restoration of national independence and the political triumph of Israel. Just because he was born and grew up in a Greek environment his conscience was perplexed by the problem of the Gentile world and he acquired a largeness of view which was destined to find an answer in his conception of Christianity as a universal religion. If it is supposed that Hellenism exercised any influence on Paul it has to be remembered that he never makes a quotation from any of the Greek authors3 or alludes to the teachings of the Greek philosophers.4 These facts are negative: they only prove that the apostle never looked for any confirmation of his preaching in Hellenism and that he possessed some of the Jew's contempt for the foreigner. 1 We cannot, however, consider this to be proved by the use of a few Aramaic words in the epistles (Maran Atha [i Cor. xvi. 22], Abba [Gal. iv. 6, Rom. viii. 15] as these are words of liturgical significance which have passed into the forms of worship used by the Hellenic churches. 2 Concerning Gamaliel or Gamaliel the Elder, see Dalman, 'Gamaliel', R.E. VI, p. 364; Schurer, Gesch. II, pp. 364 f.; Strack-Billerbeck, II, pp. 6361!. If the statement of Acts means anything more than a desire to make Paul the disciple of an illustrious rabbi, he owed the essential traits of his personality much more to his temperament than to his master. Several opinions of Gamaliel can be quoted which show that he was thought of as a discreet and moderate kind of man. The book of the Acts (v. 34) describes him advocating a policy of tolerance towards the Christians. Although the episode may have no historical value (see pp. 491 ff.) it shows that Gamaliel had a reputation for moderation and discretion. 3 It is true that in i Cor. xv. 33 is to be found an iambic trimeter borrowed from Menander : 'evil communications corrupt good manners', but the sentence may have become a proverb. 4 I am not taking into account the speech on the Areopagus, which I do not think can be attributed to Paul (cf. Introd. Ill, pp. 267 f.), and in Phil. ii. 6 I retain the reading in the manuscripts, apiray^ov (robbery) and reject the conjecture cwrpay/Aov (a sinecure) suggested independently of each other by Salomon 14 209

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It is possible that he was not so far removed from Greek polytheism as he imagined. He does not deny the existence of many celestial and divine beings but places upon them a different interpretation. He does not reproach the Gentiles for worshipping beings who do not exist but for worshipping beings who 'by nature are no gods' (Gal. iv. 8), or for worshipping 'devils and not God* (i Cor. x. 20). He states plainly that there is only one God, the Father, but this statement which seems to affirm an intransigent monotheism is followed by an explanation which unexpectedly weakens its significance: 'for though there be what are called gods, whether in heaven or in earth (as there be gods many and lords many), but to us there is but one God, the Father* (i Cor. viii. 5-6). Paul did not invent this interpretation of polytheism; the first sign of it appeared in Ecclesiasticus, xvii 17; it became more explicit in Jewish angelology, especially in that to be found in the book of Enoch, but what is peculiar to Paul is the way in which he connects polytheism and sin and also the way in which he interprets polytheism by the Jewish idea of the fall and on this interpretation bases his doctrine of redemption. The Hellenistic Judaism of Tarsus and a Gentile environment made such an impression on the future apostle that he presented his gospel in a form which enabled it to spread through the Greek world. Apart from the fact that Paul lived successively at Tarsus and Jerusalem1 we have practically no other information concerning his youth.2 Reinach ('L'indolence des dieux', Rev. des Etudes grecques, 1916, pp. 238-244; Cultes mytheSy et religions, Paris, 1923, pp. 301-306, and by Anton Fridrichsen, 'Quatre conjectures sur le texte du Nouveau Testament', R.h.p.r., 1923, III, pp. 441-442). This conjecture would introduce into the text a polemic against the Epicurean idea of the impassibility of the gods. I do not think the text can be corrected as there is no ambiguity in the manuscripts and the meaning is perfectly clear. 1 He appears to have served the Sanhedrin as a schliah (messenger, apostle). Cf. E.P., pp. 86 ff. 2 In accordance with the custom of the Rabbi, whose ministry must have been of a voluntary nature (Schurer, Gesch. II, p. 318), Paul learnt and practised a trade, that of making tents (a maker of harness there is no doubt rather than a weaver). See Introd. IV, i, pp. isoflf.). There is also the question whether in accordance with the custom of the Rabbis he did not marry as a young man. It seems impossible to think that he was married when he wrote i Cor. vii. 8, but he may have been a widower, as was thought in antiquity Methodius of Olympia (Symposium III, 12) in the sixteenth century Luther (see the texts mentioned by Krenkel, Beltr., p. 27) and in recent times especially J. Jeremiah. The question has been debated between him ('War Paulus Witteer?' Z.N.T.W., 1926, XXV, pp. 310-312; 'Nochmals: War Paulus Wittwer?', Z.N.T.W., 1929, XXVIII, pp. 321-333) and Fascher ('Zur Wittwersohaft 4es Paulus', Z.N.T.W., 1929, 210

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The question whether he had ever seen Jesus during his ministry1 is not so important as was once thought. At the very most they may have seen each other in the streets of Jerusalem. He did not hide the fact that he persecuted the Christians but rather boasted of it. It is much more likely then that if he had taken part in the plots against Jesus he would have boasted that he had assisted in the death of the Lord. His conversion would have been all the more remarkable.2 Most probably Paul never heard the new faith mentioned until the disciples returned from Galilee convinced that their Master had risen again, unless, as some suppose, he only heard the new faith mentioned for the first time at Damascus. He must have been shocked to hear a man proclaimed as the messenger of God and the Messiah on whom according to the principle laid down in Deuteronomy (xxi. 23) had fallen the curse of God, inasmuch as he had been hung on a tree. Even if what he had heard of Jesus and his sayings had secretly influenced him, the conviction that the divine curse was laid upon Jesus would only have allowed him to think that those who proclaimed that God had made him triumphant over death were liars and blasphemers who deserved heavy pijnishment.3 We have already seen4 that the idea that Paul had any share in the popular movement which caused the death of Stephen must XXVIII, pp. 62-69). The tradition of the primitive church that Paul was married (Clement of Alexandria, Strom. Ill, 52; Origen, Comm. in ep. ad. Rom. I, i, a recension interpolated into the epistle of Ignatius to the Philadelphiansy 4) rests on an erroneous interpretation of i Cor. ix. 5 and possibly on the more or less conscious desire to establish a parallel between Peter and Paul. As for the idea put forward by Clement of Alexandria (Strom. III. 6) and Eusebius (H.e. iii. 30) which Renan (Saint Paul, Paris, 1869, pp. 148 f.) revived as a hypothesis, that the vocative yvrjaU avfuyc ought to be translated 'dear wife' and not 'dear Synzygos* or 'true comrade* and is none other than Lydia the seller of purple (Acts xvi. 14, 40) it is better left to those who love historical romance. The fact that Paul is described as 'a young man* (Acts vii. 58) the first time he is mentioned makes it improbable that he was then married. When we read i Cor. vii it is difficult to imagine that he married after he became a Christian. 1 Concerning the discussions raised by this question and the solutions suggested see Introd. IV, pp. 176 ff. 2 The text of 2 Cor. v. 16 round which the discussion principally centres is hypothetical in form (if we have known . . .). It does not authorise any positive conclusion. 8 There is no need to think with Wellhausen, Israelitische undjudische Geschichte2, Berlin, 1897, p. 386, that Paul, made wise by hatred, thought that as the gospel developed it would be the ruin of Judaism. Pfleiderer (Das Urchristentum*, Berlin, 1902, I, p. 63) and Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf., Ill, p. 34) believe that Paul tried by persecuting the Christians to smother a secret attraction he felt for their faith. What, however, the apostle himself says leaves no doubt concerning the sincerity 4 of his hatred for Christianity. See p. 171. 211

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be considered doubtful or at least precarious. But on the other hand, although certain critics have tried to prove that it is certain that Paul only came into contact with Christianity in the diaspora at Damascus and there came into conflict with it, their arguments are not decisive. Paul's conversion took place near Damascus in the autumn of 29.* As Paul rarely alludes to it in his epistles he must have already given a detailed account of it to those to whom he was writing. For that reason he never gives any details on how it happened. He simply says that the Lord showed himself to him (i Cor. ix. i; xv. 8), that God revealed his Son to him (Gal. i. 15) that he was apprehended of Christ (Phil. iii. 12). On the other hand, the book of the Acts gives three versions of the story relating how the conversion happened (ix. 1-19; xxii. 3-16; xxvi. 9-20). But its evidence has little value, because the appearance of Christ described by the source has been reduced to a vision of an indeterminate nature.2 The only feature which can be retained is the localisation of the event in the neighbourhood of Damascus. Acts states that Paul was left by the vision quite helpless; he only understood what the vision meant after a Christian from Damascus, Ananias, had laid his hands upon him. Paul's solemn declaration in Galatians i. 11-12 that he received his gospel directly by a revelation from Jesus Christ without having been taught by anybody prevents the Ananias episode from being considered historical as it is given in the story of Acts.3 When we were considering the birth of the faith in the resurrection4 we saw what explanation could be given of the psychological process by which a persecutor was turned into an apostle. Paul's conversion was for him a revelation of the son of God (Gal. i. 15); he saw Jesus alive in glory and the experience compelled him not only to revise all his previous judgements about the new faith but completely to reorientate his thought. But the conversion did not cause the apostle to make a complete break with his religious past. He did not reject the fundamental elements of his thought and replace them by others. Formally, at any rate, Paul always used the same notions of God and his Kingdom, of man and sin, of salvation 1 See pp. 8

25 f. * See pp. 44 f. If the episode was a complete invention in every way, the person who laid his hands upon Paul would not have been given the name of the deceiver, Ananias. We know (Rom. vi. 3; i Cor. xii. 13) that Paul was baptised and it is difficult to see when he could have been except at the beginning of his life as a Christian. It would therefore be possible that Ananias baptised him when he introduced him to the church at Damascus. * See pp. 81 ff. 212

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and redemption. The problem of religion was still couched in the same terms, the problem of salvation. Paul still had the same yearning after righteousness, thinking of it not as an ideal but as the divine proclamation of a sentence, which opened the gates to the kingdom of the new world. But to the question, 'On what conditions will man who is a sinner be able to gain the verdict of acquittal?' after his conversion he gave quite a different reply from what he had said before. 'But what things were gain to me',1 he writes to the Philippians, 'those I counted loss for (i.e. in comparison with) Christ, yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord; for whom I suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung that I may win Christ, and be found in him,2 not having mine own righteousness which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith' (iii. 7-9). As a Jew he considered the law to be a kind of contract between God and his people. God said to the Israelite, 'Do this and you will live'.3 By obedience the Jew created for himself a right to salvation; he realised the conditions which God had imposed as the duty required.4 Paul felt that he had amply fulfilled these terms and showed that he was beyond reproach as far as legal justice was concerned (Phil. iii. 6). But after his conversion he considered justification by obedience to the law to be possible in theory but beyond realisation in practice. We can see a startling contrast when we compare the proud assurance of the Pharisee as it is expressed in Philippians iii. 6 with the poignant phraseology of Romans vii. 13 ff.5 which cannot possibly be an abstract argument but is the echo of the 1 Paul is referring to the claims to righteousness which he could put forward 2 from the Jewish point of view. On the day of judgement. 8 This is a conception of the law not as the revelation of an abstract ideal but as a means of grace. What it commands and what it forbids constitute a minimum with which God may be satisfied. 4 In addition to this the Jew is the object of a peculiar indulgence with which God will judge the members of his own people. The whole of chapter ii of the epistle to the Romans is a denunciation of the idea that God will not judge the sins of the Jew as he judges those of the Gentile. This is what chapter xv of Wisdom expresses. Furthermore, the Jew profited by the sacrificial system which blotted out involuntary disobedience of the law. Cf. G. F. Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era, Cambridge, Mass. I, pp. 257-267. On the whole question see my article: 'KATA TEN AIKAIOZYNHN TEN EN NOMQI FENOMENO2 AMEMIITOS\ Journal of biblical literature and exegesis, 1934, LIII, pp. 6257-267. Chapter vii of the epistle to the Romans has been the subject of so many different interpretations that it is quite impossible even to enumerate them. I have limited myself to describing the one which I think should be adopted.

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personal experience of an anguished soul who judges the law of God to be holy and good but feels himself bound to a wicked power which prevents him from obeying it. When did Paul have this experience? Not before his conversion as otherwise he would not have written Philippians iii. 6. Neither is it an experience which came to him as he was writing to the Romans. The contrast is too vivid between his description of moral despair and his shout of triumph and deliverance which ends the passage, 'Thanks be to God through Our Lord Jesus Christ*. The situation which Paul is describing has been resolved. The crisis must have taken place after his conversion before the apostle had regained his balance in Christian thought and action. It may well be that the words of Jesus preserved in Matthew v. 17 f. taught Paul to see that, if the principle of legalism, on which the religion of Israel rests, is worked out to its logical conclusion, it demands not only that some acts must be done and others avoided but also that the whole conduct and life of a man, his motives and inner convictions, should be obedience to the will of God. But this explanation is not sufficient because in Romans vii, Paul not only complains that he cannot do what is good but also that there is some kind of constraint which drives him to do what is wrong. His conversion therefore transformed his whole conception of man's capacity to obey the law and do the will of God.1 In one sense it may be said that Paul formed his theology by integrating into what had long been his philosophy the new faith in the risen and glorified Christ to which he became converted by his experience of the risen Christ on the road to Damascus.2 But it must be added that the original vision, important as it was, was not the only source of his Christian life, faith, and thought. It must not be separated from the visions, ecstasies and revelations which followed 1 In Paul's estimation the doctrine of justification by keeping the law had been robbed of two supports, (i) the idea that God regarded the chosen people with special favour, and (2) the sacrificial system; (i) was undermined by the forces which impelled Paul towards universalism. As for (2) many Jews were not particularly attached to the sacrificial system, while Paul's uncompromising mind did not permit there to be any other condition, even as an accessory, for salvation except the cross of Christ. It should also be noted that Paul's epistles do not contain any polemic against the idea of justification through sacrifices, from which it can be inferred that this idea must not have held an important place in Paul's thought as a Jew. 2 This idea is developed with force by Auguste Sabatier, VApdtre Paul, Esquisse d'une histoire et de sapenste?, Paris, 1896, particularly in pp. 52 ff., too much, however, to the neglect of other considerations. 214

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and made up that 'life in Christ' experienced by the apostle, of which his theology was only the expression.1 Paul maintained that there was a close connection between his conversion and his calling to be an apostle and evangelist. God had revealed his Son to him because he wished him to preach the gospel to the Gentiles (Gal. i. 16). From the very beginning of his life as a Christian he seems to have been convinced that he was called to preach the gospel; it is not quite so certain that he knew immediately that he was called to preach it to the Gentiles. After his conversion he was in Arabia (Gal. i. ly).2 It has been thought3 that after the shock of his conversion he retired into solitude to put his ideas into order, but action always followed his thoughts so quickly that it appears probable that he must have preached the gospel to the Nabateans.4 Support for this idea may be derived from the fact that according to the Acts Paul began immediately after his conversion to preach the gospel at Damascus, provoking such hostility thereby from the Jews that he had to escape by night, being let down over the wall of the city in a basket (ix. 23-25). The truth of this episode is confirmed by 2 Corinthians xi. 32-33 which, however, states that Paul's enemies were the Nabateans and the ethnarch, Aretas.5 This source must be preferred. The hostility of Aretas and the Nabateans would not have just been due to the fact that Paul had been in retreat in their country for the purpose of elaborating a new theological system. He must have been preaching the gospel there and so had stirred up opposition. Did his audience consist of the numerous Jews in the district or did he preach to the Gentile Nabateans as well? In the epistle to the 1 G. Wetter (Die Damaskusvision und das paulinische Evangelium, Fastschrift Jtdicher, Tubingen, 1927, pp. 80-92) emphasises the part played by revelations in the whole of Paul's life. But he seems to me to have underestimated the importance of the appearance of Christ on the road to Damascus. 2 If Josephus' terminology is used, Arabia must mean the Nabatean kingdom to the East and South of Palestine, extending from the district of the Euphrates to the Red Sea. In face of the evidence of the epistle to the Galatians it is difficult to understand how Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf., I, p. 175, n. 3 on page 174) can speak of Paul's stay at Damascus lasting for three years. 8 This is what such as Zahn, Der Brief des Paulus an die Galater, Leipzig, 1905, p. 68; Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf., Ill, p. 339; Leitzmann, H. I, p. 109 think. 4 As is admitted by Loisy, 'La carriere de 1'Apdtre Paul', R.h.Lr., N.S., 1920, VI, p. 445, and Guignebert, Le Christ, p. 296. 6 Damascus was not at that time in the hands of the Nabateans. The ethnarch therefore must not have been the governor of the town but chief of the Nabatean colony. There is no doubt that he had placed agents at the gates of the town to seize Paul or to assassinate him as he was leaving the town.

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Galatians there are hints, but nothing more, to suggest that at a given moment a change took place in the purpose and object of Paul's missionary activity. After mentioning a mission to Galatia in opposition to Paul and those who were behind it Paul writes, 'And I, brethren, if I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet suffer persecution?'1 (v. n). To preach circumcision is not exactly the same as to preach to Jews but Paul is never frightened of using somewhat exaggerated expressions and may well have thought that to preach only to the Jews was to remain a prisoner to the law. He may therefore be writing of a time when he did not incur the opposition of the Judaisers because he was not yet addressing himself to the Gentiles. There is a passage in the book of the Acts which supports the idea that Paul's missionary activity underwent a change of direction if it can be retained as authentic. Paul's speech after his arrest at Jerusalem recounting his conversion finishes with these words, 'And it came to pass that, when I was come again to Jerusalem, even while I prayed in the temple, 1 was in a trance; and saw him2 saying unto me, Make haste, and get thee quickly out of Jerusalem: for they will not receive thy testimony concerning me. And I said, Lord, they know that I imprisoned and beat in every synagogue them that believed on thee: And when the blood of thy martyr Stephen was shed, I also was standing by, and consenting unto his death, and kept the raiment of them that slew him. And he said unto me, Depart; for I will send thee far hence unto the Gentiles' (xiii. 17-21). The compiler of Acts put these words into the mouth of the apostle, because he wanted to explain why Paul's missionary activity had a different aim from that of the Twelve and to stamp the principle of preaching the gospel to the Gentiles with the highest authority he could think of.3 If Paul had had a vision like this on his first visit to Jerusalem it would have taken place three years after his conversion, i.e. after 1 The word ert (yet) is missing in D.G. it. These manuscripts are not of great value. The word may have been suppressed to prevent the idea being given that Paul's preaching varied. It is not impossible that it came through the same word being repeated which is to be found at the end of the sentence. * Him, i.e. the Lord Christ. 8 It is very tempting to identify this vision with that alluded to by Paul in 2 Cor. xii which must have been particularly important. But the difficulty about this is that the vision in 2 Cor. xii took place about 44 when Paul was already known as the apostle to the Gentiles. 2l6

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his activity in Arabia. Then when he says to the Galatians, 'If I yet preach the circumcision! . . .' he must have been thinking of his mission in Arabia as where he was doing this, i.e. while he still considered the gospel to be confined within the bounds of Judaism. This is possibly what he meant; but this explanation is far from being absolutely convincing and meets with difficulties which cannot be easily solved. Paul's brief visit to Jerusalem after his hurried escape from Damascus was undertaken with certain precautions; it was kept secret as Paul met only Peter and James and saw none of the other apostles (Gal. i. iS-ig).1 From that time he was hated by the Jews and regarded with suspicion by the Christians. This cannot be explained unless he had addressed himself to the Gentiles and so made it clear that he had taken up a position in opposition to the Law. For the period following up to 43 we only know that Paul was at work in Syria, Cilicia, and above all in Antioch. It is certain that his activity was crowned with success. They heard reports of him in Judaea and glorified God in him (Gal. i. 23-24). With Barnabas he withstood the pressure which Judaisers who came to Antioch tried to bring to bear on converted Gentiles and then came to Jerusalem to defend their cause. The results of the conference at Jerusalem2 did not exactly fulfil Paul's wishes but through his tenacity of purpose he gained recognition of his apostleship and his gospel from the 'pillars of the church'—not without difficulty it is true. In this way it became possible for him to embark on extensive missionary undertakings without any fear that his work would be compromised in advance by opposition from within the church.3 It will be sufficient to recall in outline4 his three missionary journeys.5 The narrative as it is given in the book of Acts varies very much in value according to the sources at the disposal of the 1

2 See p. in, n 3. See pp. 295 ff. In Gal. ii. 2 Paul says that he came to Jerusalem 'lest by any means he should run or had run in vain'. This shows that he had the feeling that opposition from the Christians in Jerusalem would have made his missionary work impossible or have spoilt the results. The events which followed showed that he was mistaken with regard to the way in which he was received at Jerusalem. 4 For a criticism of the account of these journeys given by Acts and for details which cannot be given here see my Introd. Ill and IV. I shall return to these journeys when I am dealing with the opposition which Paul incurred. 5 It is convenient to make use of the terms first, second, and third journeys as they are hallowed by custom but it must not be forgotten that Paul had previously made other journeys in Arabia, Cilicia and Syria. 217

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compiler of the narrative. He seems to have had fairly good sources of information on the details of the journeys in Macedonia and Greece, but for the rest of his narrative he seems only to have had a simple itinerary at his disposal which he embroidered with attractive but often legendary elements and inserted in it speeches which cannot have been Paul's1 but were either composed by the compiler himself or borrowed from some collection of missionary speeches. Paul made the first journey with Barnabas, crossed the island of Cyprus, then went into Asia Minor through Perga and preached at Antioch in Pisidia, Iconium, Lystra and Derbe; then the missionaries retraced their steps and came back to Perga where they embarked for Antioch (Acts xiii. 4-14, 28). Paul chose Silas as his companion for the second journey after he dismissed Barnabas,2 went through Syria and Cilicia and visited Derbe, Lystra, and IcOnium. At Lystra he found a new companion in Timothy who proved to be a very precious friend.3 The first part of the journey was devoted to visiting churches which had been founded previously. Next Paul went through4 Phrygia and Galatia.5 Then after he had made attempts to enter Mysia and Bithynia, the provinces of Asia, which for reasons we are unacquainted with failed, he passed over into Macedonia in accordance with a dream, which together with the obstacles which had compelled him to give up his previous plans he believed showed him what was the will of God. He stayed at Philippi, Thessalonica, and Berea. His preaching in Macedonia met with great success but also 1

The speeches in the synagogue at Antioch in Pisidia (xiii. 16-41), before the Areopagus (xvii. 22-31) and to the elders of the church at Ephesus who came a to Miletus (xx. 1^-35). See p. 304. 8 According to Acts xvi. 1-3 Timothy was the son of a Jewish mother and a Gentile father and Paul had him circumcised 'because of the Jews' before he took him as his companion. In Col. iv. 10-11, however, at the time when Timothy was with him and is mentioned as the joint-author of the epistle Paul that Mark and Jesus-Justus are the only Jews working with him. From this it can be inferred that Timothy was uncircumcised. 4 The texts of Acts (xvi. 6) says only that Paul went through Phrygia and the region of Galatia but gives no details perhaps in order not to bring to mind the disagreeable happenings which must have happened later in Galatia. The verb StetXo/xat which is used here in Acts means to go through a country and preach the gospel. 5 We think that it refers to Galatia, the country properly so called, i.e. the old kingdom with the capital Ancyra, what the commentators call Northern Galatia. For the reasons why I prefer this theory to that which would make it refer to the districts in the south of the Roman province of Galatia where the churches founded by Paul were situated see Introd. IV, 2, pp. 14? ff. 218

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with lively opposition not only as Acts informs us from the Jews but also from the Gentiles. Paul was compelled to flee from Philippi to Thessalonica, then from Thessalonica to Berea. Finally he had to leave the province, pursued, it seems, by the public authorities, who only allowed him to return in peace at a later date towards the end of his third journey.1 He made a brief stay at Athens and then came to Corinth, where at first he only wished to stay until he could return to Macedonia. When he saw that he could not return he decided to devote himself to the evangelisation of Corinth and remained there for eighteen months. After this he made a brief halt at Ephesus and returned to Antioch (xv. 4O-xviii. 22). A little time after he set out on a fresh journey which proved to be the last. For the second time he went through Phrygia and Galatia and arrived at Ephesus where he stayed2 two or three years.3 This sojourn in Asia was a particularly critical period in Paul's life. While he was there he had to face grave difficulties which came to a head in Corinth a little before those which cropped up in Galatia.4 For his stay there the evidence from Acts is poor and not very trustworthy.5 Accurate information, however, comes to us from the epistle to the Philippians,6 i Corinthians xv. 32 where Paul says that he fought with wild beasts at Ephesus, and i Corinthians xvi. 9 where he says that his enemies were numerous, proving that in Ephesus Paul met with great difficulties and very probably was put in prison and threatened with capital punishment.7 The epistle to the Philippians also shows us that Paul met with trouble even in the very heart of Asiatic Christendom from people who were jealous of him and tried to replace his authority by their own (i. 15-17). At the same time the Jews were straining to draw to their side those whom his preaching had turned from polytheism.8 It looks as if the compiler of Acts wanted to throw a veil over all this. 1

See pp. 474 ff. The stay in Asia was interrupted at least once by a rapid journey to Corinth. Two years according to Acts xix. 10; three years according to Acts xx. 31. It may well be that the two years refer only to the time spent by Paul teaching in the school of Tyrannus. It is also possible that of the three years Paul stayed in Asia two were spent in Ephesus. 4 Concerning the crises at Corinth and in Galatia see further on pp. 305 ff. 5 Thus the detailed story of the riot caused by the silversmith Demetrius appears to refer to an anti-semitic movement which did not concern Paul or the Christians. e For the reasons which make me think that the epistle to the Philippians was written at Ephesus while Paul was in prison there and not as is most generally thought while he was a prisoner at Rome see Introd. IV. i, pp. 369 ff. T 8 See pp. 485 ff. Those are the persons referred to in Phil. iii. 2 ff. z

8

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When Paul left Ephesus in Asia he wanted to pass through Macedonia which so far he had been unable to revisit, then to go to Corinth and try to restore his authority there. In Macedonia he learnt first, that the Corinthians, following a stern letter which he had written to them and the intervention of Titus, had regained their senses and had put a stop to their opposition, and secondly, that the Galatians had been worked upon by Judaising missionaries and were on the point of giving way to their demands and accepting circumcision. It is well known how the crisis in Galatia ended.1 As far as Greece is concerned the church at Corinth seems to have submitted completely to Paul who met with no trouble there during his stay of three months (Acts xx. 3) at the beginning of 58, at least so far as the church was concerned. For it is unlikely that during these three months the Jews would have showed no signs of a hatred which at the time of his departure drove them to form a plot to assassinate him on the journey which he had planned to Jerusalem.2 This journey to Jerusalem had been planned for some years. It went back to the time when in fulfilment of the promise made by him at the conference of 43-44 Paul had organised a collection for the church at Jerusalem in Galatia, Asia, Macedonia and Greece.3 At first he was undecided whether he would accompany in person the delegates of the churches who were to bring it (i Cor. xvi. 3-4). After the crises in Galatia and Greece he felt it necessary to put his relationship with the leaders of the church at Jerusalem to the test to get to know exactly what they felt towards him. By undertaking the journey to Jerusalem he got a clear idea of the dangers to which he was going to be exposed at the hands of the Jews in Jerusalem, and he was not fully assured of being favourably received by the Christians there.4 His fears were justified. The church received him with marked reserve and was unconcerned as to his fate when he found himself in difficulties. As for the Jews, they caused a riot in the course of which he would have been massacred if Roman troops had not intervened in time to seize him.5 1

See pp. 315 ff. When Paul learnt of this plot he modified his itinerary and instead of embarking direct for Syria made a detour by passing through Macedonia and Asia (Acts xx. 3). 8 Concerning this collection see my article, 'La collecte en faveur des Saints de Jerusalem*, R.h.p.r.y 1925, XV, pp. 301-318. 4 This can be inferred from Rom. xv. 30-31 where Paul makes an insistent demand on the Romans to pray that he may be delivered from them that are rebellious in Judaea, i.e. the Jews and that the collection may be well received by the church. 5 Concerning the trial which then took place and the end of Paul's life see pp. 488 ff. 2

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When Paul's missionary activity was in this way forcibly interrupted, he had the feeling that his work in the Eastern half of the Mediterranean was ended and he was preparing, after passing through Rome, to find a new field for his activity in Spain. 3.—PAUL'S MISSIONARY METHOD

Paul's missionary method is shown to be a curious mixture of irrational and supernatural impulses expressed in dreams and visions and reasoned plans formed after considered reflection, a curious combination of calculation and improvisation. It seems as if Paul's purpose was not to evangelise whole districts systematically but to create a number of strategic points from where the faith might afterwards spread. For this purpose he chose the large cities1 which by their situation were places not only where trade routes joined but also where the philosophic and religious streams of the ancient world met. Here there was a floating rootless population, which had lost its political, religious, and social traditions, possessed no stability and was particularly vulnerable to the preaching of the gospel. This missionary method, which might be described as a method of projection in contrast to a method of progression is followed by what might be called a process of diffusion. It seems to have been the method followed by the majority if not all of the missionaries of the first generation both from Jerusalem and from the Hellenistic Christians (i Cor. ix. 5).2 It affected the way in which Christianity developed in important respects. At the end of the first generation the Eastern basin of the Mediterranean from Jerusalem to Rome (Rom. xv. i8)3 contained a fair number of Christian communities 1 This is because Paul found it easiest in such cities to gain his livelihood. From one church at least, however, he accepted financial help. That was the church at Philippi (Phil. iv. 15-16; cf. 2 Cor. xi. 9), but he always refused to receive anything from the church at Corinth (i Cor. ix. 3 ff.; 2 Cor. xi. 9-10; xii. 13-18), doubtless because his disinterestedness was questioned there. 2 This method seems to have been followed by the moralists, itinerant Greek preachers. See Rengsdorf, 'a.iroar6\os\ Kittel, TheoL Worterb. I, p. 411. 8 Perhaps in other directions as well. We do not know much about the Christian mission in the first generation apart from references to Paul's missionary activities. I only wish to note one point concerning Egypt. The legends attributing its evangelisation to Peter and Mark are late and inconsistent. But it may be supposed that Egypt had already been evangelised when Paul wrote the epistle to the Romans. Wishing only to preach where Christ had not yet been named (Rom. xv. 20) he wanted to undertake the evangelisation of Spain. Would he not have preferred Egypt if it had still been virgin ground for evangelisation. There is no reason for thinking that Christianity had spread only in a westward direction. 221

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which existed in isolation from each other. They only had occasional contact with one another and were not bound up together in one central organisation. The contrast between this complete absence of any general organisation and the exceedingly strong feeling among these communities that they were spiritually one, a feeling which showed itself in action, e.g. * in the hospitality which Christians received from the churches when they were travelling,1 constitutes an important fact. Both in the realm of thought and organisation and in other respects development must not have been the same everywhere. Christianity covered a vast area and as long as it still lacked fixed forms could show diversity without being divided. In the second generation a movement towards unification set in which at the end of the first century came to a head in two forms which might be described as pre-catholic, the Fourth Evangelist in Asia representing one form and Clement of Rome in the West representing the other. A century later we can see appearing with Irenaeus and Tertullian what may be called pre-catholicism. Although Paul felt that he had a special mission to the Gentiles he was not on that account prevented from preaching also to the Jews. Between the Jews and sympathetic Gentiles who gravitated round the synagogues it was impossible to draw a clear line. Two reasons, one theoretical, the other practical, prevented Paul from refraining from altogether preaching to the Jews. When he offers the gospel as 'the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth, to the Jew first, and also to the Greek' (Rom. i. 16) he means that in principle salvation is intended for the Jews and that it is only because they reject it that it is offered to the Gentiles. Whenever Paul arrived at a fresh town, he did not feel that he had any right to address himself to the Gentiles exclusively until at any rate the Jews had rejected his message. The synagogue services with the opportunities which they provided for every worshipper to preach to the community offered to the Christian missionaries a pulpit ready to hand where they could get into touch with both Jews and proselytes and through them with other Gentiles. According to the Acts, Paul preached everywhere in the synagogue From i Cor. ix. 5 we know that the missionaries from Jerusalem, those whom Paul calls the other apostles, the brethren of the Lord and Cephas, were also itinerant but we do not know in what countries they were active. 1 See E.P., pp. 167 ff. This hospitality was also abused. The Didache formulates precise rules to remedy this abuse. 222

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until he was expelled from it. When that happened he set up in another place, at Corinth in the house of Titus Justus, at Ephesus in the school of a certain Tyrannus which he rented. Acts here rather describes Paul's arrangements as if they were the execution of a formal plan. The services of the synagogue could only be a temporary means of preaching the gospel. They were sufficient for the beginning of a mission but were unsuitable for instructing those who had to become more clearly conscious of their faith, and it is difficult to see how baptism and the eucharist could have been celebrated in them. Even when the growing groups of Christians were not expelled from the synagogues they could not remain in them indefinitely; they had to find places for meeting which could be their own. Paul had helpers in his missionary work; two groups can be distinguished. One was composed of missionaries like Barnabas, Silas, Titus, perhaps Apollos as well, who sometimes were associated with him for a common task but otherwise were engaged in their own work. Others such as John Mark for the first part of the first journey and Timothy especially were more like subordinates and auxiliaries. Paul also gained assistance from people who did not accompany him on his travels but helped him in the communities to which they belonged. Such were Aquila and his wife Priscilla, Sosthenes, Epaphras, Archippus and others. When Paul thought that his activity had made sufficient impression in a church so that it could be left alone, he withdrew himself from it; he kept in touch with it by correspondence1 and whenever the opportunity came returned and visited it. As he said, he carried with him constantly the 'care of all the churches' (2 Cor. xi. 28).

4.—PAUL'S THEOLOGY It is often said that the one source of all Paul's thought was his conversion.2 To a large extent this is true as long as we do not take it rigorously. It has already been noted that the religious problem remained the same for Paul after his conversion as it was before and that he used the same material for his ideas in both parts of his life. Furthermore, he never confined the action of God and Christ in him to the one moment of his conversion. He was an inspired man, 1

We only possess a small part of this correspondence. Particularly was this idea developed in a book of Sabatier, L'apGtre Paul Esquisse d'une Mstoire de sa penste, Paris, iSyo3, 1897. 2

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who felt that he was possessed if not continuously at any rate constantly by the Spirit of Christ inspiring his thoughts and dictating his words and actions. This life 'in Christ1 or 'in the Lord* or 'in the Spirit' was the never ceasing spring of Paul's life and thoughts pushing him forward with unfailing power. Paul's theology is based upon the idea of a divine plan of creation in two stages on which a plan of redemption was superimposed, when sin had made it impossible for God to complete His plan of creation and He refused to allow the work which He had undertaken for His glory to end in failure. Paul maintains in i Corinthians xv. 44-49 that there is a psychic body and a spiritual body.1 Adam, it is said in Genesis ii. 7, was created a living psyche.2 The second Adam, on the other hand, is a life-giving spirit. Paul states that not the spiritual but the psychical comes first (xv. 46).3 The first man is earthly,4 while the second man comes from heaven. These are the marks of human nature of which the two Adams are the prototypes. Paul explains that man, so far as in his nature he is descended from Adam, i.e. flesh and blood, cannot inherit the kingdom of God (i Cor. xv. 50). Flesh here does not mean what it has become since the fall which has made it the seat and cause of sin; but the flesh as God originally created it, innocent as far as sin is? concerned, capable of sinning but not inevitably bound to sin. Even if there had been no fall, the creation would not have been completed without the appearance of the second Adam, who had to be the bridge across which it would pass from the carnal level to the spiritual level. He would, however, have accomplished not an act of redemption but an act of creation similar to the first act of creation in which he had also played a part. The statements of the cosmological function of Christ are not as explicit as those in Hebrews i. 2-3 and John i. 3, but it is clearly said in Colossians i. 16 that 'by him all things were created, that are in 1 The first is corruptible (cv ^0op£), in dishonour (ev vi. 11. Cf. vii. 9. Wetter, Der Sohn Gottes> Untersuchung uber den Charakter und die Tendenz des Johannesevangeliums, zugltich ein Betrag zur Kenntniss der Heilandsgestalten der Antike, Gottingen, 1916. Cf. Reitzentstein, Poimandres, pp. 222 f.; Norden, Agnostos Theos., pp. 188 f. 8 In one passage alone (v. 27) do we find the concept of the Son of Man as judge, which is an element belonging to eschatological conceptions. But as v. 28-29 is a gloss (see p. 391, n. 2, Introd. II, pp. 358 f.) the words 'because he is the Son of Man' in v. 27 appear to have been added to knit the verses together. 4 Wetter, Verherrlichung, p. 46. 2

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paradox or a scandal.1 It is the return of the Lord to heaven, a return which opens access to his own; from this comes the importance of the idea of Christ as the way (xii. 31-32; xiv. 6). The idea of predestination is found in John in a much sharper form than in Paul; salvation is only possible for 'the children of light* (iii. 19-20). For them has been accomplished a work of protection, purification, and sanctification which began in the historical ministry of Jesus and only then acquiring its full force is continued in the action of the paraclete (xiv. 20-21; xvii. 14-19). The action of Christ is more the action of his person than of his work as is also shown in the idea of Christ as the light of the world (viii. 12), which does not mean only that Christ gives light to men but also that he makes them light by giving to them the essence of the life divine (xii. 35-36). Elsewhere the true life is described as the knowledge of God and Jesus Christ whom he has sent (xvii. 3). But knowledge here does not denote something purely or even principally intellectual; it is equivalent to communion. The life of the believer seemed to be both a result and an extension of the life of Christ. 'Because I live, ye shall live also', he says (xiv. 19). Some contexts speak of the gift of life as present (iii. 36; v. 25; vi. 47), even as complete (v. 24), others as future (iii. 36; v. 24; xi. 26); in some of them present and future are connected together (iii. 36; xi. 26). We have here realised eschatology in a much sharper form than in Paul. John happens to use the future sometimes not because it is a survival of the eschatological conception but because he is making Jesus speak of the bread of life and of the eucharist, which according to his doctrine2 could only be given to one after Christ had returned into celestial glory. As has already been remarked in passing, John has a very sharp conception of predestination. Jesus knew in advance who would believe and he protects them so that none of them should perish (xvii. 12; xviii. 9) but he also knows who will not believe. Those destined to salvation are exposed to the hatred of the world because they are not beings of flesh (xvii. 14-16). God has given them to Christ (vi. 37-39; x. 29; xvii. 2, 6) or rather Christ has chosen them and kept them from the world (xv. 18-19). The fact that these two phrases are logically contrary shows that we are not in the presence of a theory but of a religious experience. According to some texts (i. 13; iii. 6, 21; viii. 47, etc.), faith is a result of the very nature of 1

Wetter, Ich bin das Licht der Welt, pp. 183 f.

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See E.P., pp. 368 ff.

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those who believe, of the fact that they are 'children of God* or 'children of light'; according to other texts faith is a result of divine action which is exercised on them to draw them to Christ (vi. 37, 44, 45, 46, 65). The object of faith which is the determining condition of salvation is Christ and his sayings (iii. 18; v. 47; vi. 29; viii. 24, etc.). To believe in Christ is to believe in God who has sent him (xii. 44; xiv. i); it is to recognise his heavenly person behind his human manifestation. Faith contains an intellectual element, i.e. to know who Jesus is. But it is not only of an intellectual quality; it creates a mystic link between the believer and Christ which makes it the source of life (iii. 36; v. 24; vi. 40, 47, etc.). Faith gives life directly and not as in Paul's thought indirectly through the mediation of justification. It comes into being through the person of Christ, through hearing his words and contemplating his works. Jesus expresses both astonishment and regretful reproach when he says, 'Ye have also seen me and ye believe me not' (vi. 36). The miracles reveal the real person of Jesus; they are 'manifestations of his glory* (ii. n; x. 37-38; xiv. I2).1 John uses other terms as well as faith to describe the relationship of the believer to Christ; he speaks of 'coming to Christ' (v. 40; vi. 35; vii. 37), of going in through the door (x. i fF.) or by the way which Christ is (xiv. 6), and of receiving him (i. 12; v. 43; xvi. 48). In the last part of the gospel obedience to Christ is emphasised (xiv. 15, 21; xv. 10). The disciples are shown as if, when they were going to be separated from their master, they needed all the more to be loyal to his commandments. The connection of the faithful to Christ and their union with him not only form the determining condition of salvation but make up salvation itself which is shown by love, the love of the faithful for the Lord and of the Lord for them and the love of the faithful for one another (xii. 26; xiv. 21-23). This union is also realised through the sacraments.2 The allusions in chapter vi to the eucharist3 are sufficiently plain to leave no doubt that the omission of any account of the last supper cannot be due to any opposition to sacramentalism. The explanation for this is to be 1

The desire to see a miracle in iv. 48 (cf. vi. 36) is described as due to lack of faith because it is taken from the synoptic tradition. 2 Just as Paul shows no contradiction between faith and sacraments, John shows there to be none between the mysticism of love and the mysticism of the sacraments. 8 Concerning the eucharistic doctrine of John see my book, Ueucharistie, pp. 195-215 and E.P., pp. 368 ff.

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found in the idea that sacraments could only become efficacious through Christ's death or rather, one should say, through his glorification.1 In the incident of the feet-washing (xiii. 4 ff.) the gesture of Jesus is to be taken as symbolic representation of the supper making it to be a complementary purification to baptism effacing the impurities which have been contracted since baptism (xiii. io).2 But the discourse on the bread of life in chapter vi shows that the significance of the sacrament of the eucharist is in no way weakened. The life of believers is characterised by the love which they have for Christ and the love which they have for one another (xiv. 23; xvii. 21-23). The concept of believers being slaves to Christ is deliberately avoided and superseded by that of being his faithful friends (xv. i5).3 Believers continue to see their master after he has left the world (xiv. 19); they are guarded and protected by him against the hatred of the world (xv. 18-20; xvi. 2; xvii. 11-15). This action of Christ over his own is shown as the promise that their prayers will be answered (xiv. 14). The doctrine of the spirit,4 through whom Christ acts on his own after he has left them, is practical in character. No explicit definition of the Spirit is given and such indications as John does give us prevent us from thinking that he had any coherent ideas on the subject. This is particularly noticeable in respect of the relations between the Spirit and the Father and the Son. The Spirit comes from God but is sent at the request of Christ and his action is that of Christ returning to his own. This doctrine is unfolded only in the farewell discourses because they contain the culmination of Christ's teaching and Christian initiation. The hostility of man can do nothing against the Spirit's action; time and place impose no limitations. It enables the disciples to understand what they were unable to grasp during the ministry of Jesus (xiv. 16-26; xvi. 12-14). The complexity of the Spirit's action is expressed in the term TrapdKXrjrrjs which is his designation. This word is translated comforter, counsellor, 1 This is the significance of the incident of the piercing of Christ's side (xix. 34). The water and blood which spring from Jesus' side are symbols of baptism and the eucharist. The way in which the evangelist invokes oracular witness in reference to the incident shows the importance he attributes to it. 1 The same idea is to be found in the miracle of Cana where the water which is changed into wine is in vessels used for the Jewish rite of purification. * Bousset, Kyrios Christos, pp. 77 f. 4 See my article, 'La notion johannique de 1'Esprit', Paris, 1902.

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advocate, helper, tutor, supporter. Each of these translations contains an element of truth but none of them by itself expresses all that is contained in the concept of the Paraclete. He comforts the disciples in their grief at their separation from their master (xii. 24; xvi. 20 f.); he instructs because he is the Spirit of truth (xiv. 17, 25, 26; xvi. 13); he gives knowledge of the Father and so gives life (xvii. 26); he reveals the future (xvi. 13); at the death of every believer he receives his soul to unite him to Christ (xiv. 3). On the world his action is entirely negative; he exercises judgement upon it and pronounces condemnation (xvi. 8-n). Through his conception of the Spirit John spiritualises the eschatological tradition without ever explicitly breaking with it. As Paul had done before him, in a more radical fashion he makes his eschatology realised and present, with the result that there is no place now for an anxious waiting for the return of Christ.1 As a result of this, the traditional idea of judgement has no meaning for John. We have seen2 that this was also true of Paul but, while Paul categorically maintains the conception of a judgement which appears superfluous because before it will have taken place the elect have already been separated from the non-elect through their prior resurrection, John goes farther and changes the position of the judgement by transferring it from the last day to the moment when each is brought face to face with Christ and his sentence. He explicitly denies the conception of an eschatological judgement. 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life', says the Johannine Christ (v. 24; cf. iii. 36; viii. 51). The conception of judgement in its traditional form is even the object of a direct polemic. 'I came not to judge the world', says Christ, 'but to save the world* (xii. 47; cf. iii. 17) and again: 'And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil' (iii. 19). Only in this sense has Christ come into the world for judgement (ix. 39). But in reality man brings this judgement on himself by the attitude he adopts towards the words of Christ. It dpes not concern only those who come face to face with Christ and his words while they are alive on earth but all mankind, as everyone either in this world or while they are in the realm of the dead will be challenged to accept or refuse his words 'Verily I say unto you', says Christ, 1 The word is not found anywhere else in the epistle. * See p. 274. 359

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'The hour is coming and now is,1 when the dead shall hear the voice of God and they that hear2 shall live' (v. 24-27).3 While John teaches that those who receive the sayings of Christ have already passed from death to life, he also has the conception of the resurrection on the last day and the terms in which it is mentioned prevent us from thinking that it is due to interpolations by an editor who wanted to accommodate the gospel to conceptions which were current in the church at the end of the first century. This affirmation is met with not less than four times in the eucharistic discourse in chapter vi. For example Jesus says, 'And this is the Father's will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me, I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day. And this is the will of him that sent me, that everyone which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life and I will raise him up at the last day' (vi. 39-40; cf. vi. 44, 54). The conception of the resurrection seems then to have been superimposed upon that of eternal life as an immediate possession. These two ideas are closely associated together in the dialogue between Jesus and Martha before Lazarus' tomb: Jesus says, 'Thy brother shall rise again'. Martha replies, 'I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day'. Jesus then declares, 'I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in me though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die'4 (xi. 23-26). Under the combined influence of his religious experience and his Greek spiritualism John was led to the conception of a spiritual life, which is independent of physical life over which death has no power but he does not on that account abandon entirely the Jewish idea of resurrection. We have here 1

This expression means that this moment is near (cf. iv. 23). The same verb OLKOVCIV which is used twice in the passage means (i) understand and (2) listen, accept, receive. 3 In what follows (v. 28-29) we find an entirely different conception. 'For the hour is coming in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice (that of the Son of God) and shall come forth, they that have done good unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation'. The voice of the Son of God is not here the one which calls to salvation but the one which summons the dead before his tribunal. The contradiction between verses 24-27 and 28-29 is clear and distinct. The latter passage is an interpolation by a later editor who thought he found the idea of judgement in v. 24 f. and gave it precision by the addition of verses 28-29. 4 These words can also be translated, ' will not die for ever', The translation which I give I think must be preferred because it exhibits with greater clarity the paradoxical nature of this saying of Jesus spoken in front of Lazarus' tomb. 360 1

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a logical contradiction which is easily explained. We are concerned here with one of those phrases which are more than intellectual in their content and derive much of their significance from the emotional coefficient contained in them. A long tradition which John does not care to cast aside had so closely associated faith and hope in the beyond with the affirmation of the resurrection that it preserved its religious significance even when it no longer satisfied as an adequate conception of the life beyond. We have to understand the declaration of xii. 48 in the same way, 'He that rejecteth me and receiveth not my words hath one that judgeth him: the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day'. In form this contradicts the affirmation that judgement lies in the immediate response to the challenge presented by the sayings of Jesus offering salvation. This contradiction bears a close resemblance to the one where Jesus is made to speak of a resurrection on the last day for a believer who has already passed from death to life. The fact that Johannine thought is somewhat lacking in coherence is not entirely explained by the survival of certain forms of thought due to what might be called the religious potential with which tradition had charged them. It is also due to the fact that John expressed his ideas in the framework of the gospel story and also as much as anything else to the character of his personality. As the gospel is preceded by a prologue which appears to be systematic in character and could be described as the most philosophic bit of the New Testament we might have expected a different conception. Many critics of the nineteenth century among those belonging to the liberal school, notably H. J. Holtzmann, Jean Reville and Loisy,1 judged the prologue to contain the programme and key to the whole of Johannine thought. This compelled them to discover a scheme in the gospel in which the various elements are fitted together to develop and illustrate the themes laid down in the prologue. The schemes suggested by them show considerable ingenuity and considered separately they all seem plausible if somewhat forced. But they contradict and refute each other. In addition the underlying thesis behind these 1 H. J. Holtzmann, 'Der Logos und der eingeborene Gottessohn im vierten Evangelium', Z.f. wiss Theol, XXXVI, 1893, I. pp. 385-40?; Reville, Q.E., pp. 110-119; Loisy, Q.Ev., pp. 97-98, 153, 199. Loisy expresses the same idea again in his second edition (Paris, 1921). But here it is offered with less exactness because in the interval Loisy took to the theory that the gospel is a compilation from composite sources.

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critical essays meets with this difficulty, that, if the logos conception is the key to the gospel, it is impossible to explain why it is never referred to except in the prologue. Harnack observed this and was led to maintain that the gospel was a uniquely religious mystical work and that the prologue which is different in character ought to be considered as a kind of fa$ade, a sort of captatio benevolentiae to charm Greek readers.1 The arguments used by both parties are too weighty to allow either to be ignored. We must then suppose that the problem has been badly conceived. When we try to follow the movement of thought in the prologue we come to recognise that its dominating interest is not philosophical but religious and practical. It unfolds the successive aspects of the revealing action of the logos, in creation, in the life of the individual illuminated by reason, in the religion of Israel, and last of all in the incarnation, but it emphasises the reception given by men at each stage of the revealing process. The interest of the prologue in the logos is practical and religious like the rest of the gospel. Holtzmann, Jean Reville and Loisy are right to maintain against Harnack that the prologue sums up the message of the gospel but Harnack is right to maintain against Holtzmann and the other liberal critics that the gospel is above everything else a religious book and not a philosophic treatise. John through the instrumentality of the Judeo-Alexandrine philosophy of Philo2was much more widely and profoundly influenced by Greek currents than Paul. But the nature of these currents and the extent of their influence must be defined. They effected the framework of the form of his thought, his general conception of the world, with the opposition between the world below and the world above, and the connection between flesh and spirit. The specifically religious element in the gospel has not been touched by Greek influences. The culmination of the Johannine doctrine of the logos is the conception of incarnation, but his conception is not only strange to Philo; it lies at the antipodes of his thought. To interpret the appearance of Christ in history and his work of 1

Harnack, 'Uber das Verhaltsniss des Prologs des vierten Evangeliums zum ganzen Werk', Z.f.TH.u.K., 1902, II, pp. 189-231. 2 On this point see the somewhat ancient but still useful works of Reville (Le Logos d'apres Philon d'Alexandrie, Geneva, 1877; La doctrine du Logos dans la Quatrieme Evangile dans les ceuvres de Philon, Paris, 1881). See also Aal, Der Logosy Leipzig, Grill, Untersuchungen iiber die Enstatehung des vierten Evangeliums, Leipzig, Tubingen, 1902-23 ; J. d'Alma, Philon et le Quatrieme fivangile, Paris, 1910; Langrange, 'Vers le logos de St. Jean', R.b., 1923, XXXI, pp. 161-184; 321-371. 362

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salvation, John did not borrow doctrine from Philo which he might have transposed but only material. At the centre of Johanninism is a religious experience which is quite foreign to Philo, the conviction of what the believer receives from Christ, who is the only source of true life. The principle on which John organises the elements which he borrows from Philo, i.e. the religious spirit with which he endows them he does not owe to Judeo-Alexandrine philosophy. The same thing can be said of what he may have borrowed from rabbinic Judaism1 or the books of wisdom.2 Allowing for its own distinctive originality Johannine mysticism belongs to the main stream of Greek mysticism. For example the Johannine conception of light seems to have been influenced by the ancient conception of a luminous soul, which was trying to free itself from the matter into which it had fallen to return to its original source.3 Norden4 showed that the phrase, 'I am the light' (viii. 12), expresses a current theme of Greek mysticism and is to be found in the Poimandres? What the Greek said of his god and the Jew of the Messiah for whom he was waiting John says of the Christ in an exclusive sense. The influence is entirely formal and at bottom more negative than positive. The Fourth Gospel is primarily a religious book expressing a faith and experience but it is also an apology and a polemic. John feels the church to be threatened and he wants to defend it. Certain passages in the farewell discourses refer to the hatred of the world and to the conviction that the enemies of Christians will think that they are doing service to God by putting them to death (xvi. 2).6 Against this danger he only advises patience. He is more concerned with dangers which the faith is incurring at the hands of groups from whom the faithful do not always perhaps feel 1

Burney, The aramaic origin of the fourth gospel, Oxford, 1922, pp. 34 f., 37 f. Rendel Harris, The origin of the prologue of the fourth gospel, Cambridge, 1917; Grill, Unters., I, pp. 155-176; Holtzmann, Neutestamentliche Theologie,2 II, p. 415. On the possibility that Johannine theology may have been subject to Egyptian influences through the agency of synchretism see A. Moret, 'Le Verbe createur et r&velateur en Egypte', R.h.r., 1909, LXIX, pp. 279-298; Reitzenstein, Zwei religionsgeschichtliche Fragen, Leipzig, 1901. Cf. Introd. II, pp. 518 ff. 8 Wetter, Ich bin das Licht, pp. 177 f.; Reitzenstein, 'Die Gottin Psyche in der hellenisteschen und fruhchristlichen Literatur', S.H.A., 1917, p. 10. 4 Norden, Agn. Th., pp. 298 f. Cf. Wetter, Ich bin das Licht, pp. 179, 197. 5 Paul seems to be thinking of it in Romans ii. 19-20 and Baldensperger (Der Prolog des vierten Evangeliums, Freiburg in Breisgau, Leipzig, Tubingen, 1898, p. n) maintained that the disciples of John Baptist applied it to their master. 6 These passages seem to belong to an editorial stratum of a later date. Cf. Introd. II, pp. 370 ff. 2

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themselves completely separated by as wide a gulf as he would like and who are trying to attract to themselves members of the church. He seems to have in mind three groups, Judaism, the disciples of John Baptist, and Greek mystic sects. John's apologetic is more positive than negative; he always tends to show that faith in Christ alone is able to satisfy men's needs. In reply to Judaism John emphasises the doctrine that Jesus was the Messiah, making it his main argument. He uses the argument from prophecy and the predictions of the gospel events given in the Old Testament (xii. i6f., 38 f.; xv. 25; xix. 24, 29-36). For purposes of apology he puts the prediction of the passion right at the beginning of Jesus' ministry (ii. 19, 22; iii. 14) and makes it a public announcement (vii. 33-36; viii. 28; xii. 33-36). The miracles are less numerous than in the synoptics but they are more astounding in character. Their purpose is to create faith by revealing the true character of the personality of Jesus (i. 48 f.; ii. n; vi. 14, etc.). The way in which John repeatedly affirms the heavenly origin of Christ is certainly due to christological speculations but he is also in this way replying to the argument of the Jews, when they said that the Messiah could not have come from Nazareth and that no man knew his origin (vii. 27 f., 41, 52). Weinel1 is right when he says that John unfolds the complete body of Jewish Messianic doctrine to show that Jesus conformed to all its demands. The fact that the most important of Jesus' activities are placed in Jerusalem is partly due to the character of the sources used by John but possibly, as Baldensperger maintains,2 it is also because it forms a refutation to the charge brought by some against Christianity that it rested on a series of historical events which did not take place in full daylight but in a remote province of the empire. (Cf. vii, 4). It is thought that traces can be found in the Fourth Gospel that rivalry existed between the disciples of Jesus and those of John Baptist.3 The gospel is devoted to showing the absolute superiority 1

Weinel, Bibl. TheoL, p. 220. Baldensperger, Urckristliche Apologetik, Strasburg, 1909, p. 30. Cf. Weinel, Bibl. TheoL, p. 532. * On the questions concerning John Baptist and his disciples see my book J.B. which gives the bibliographical references. I am actually rather chary in believing in the existence of a group of disciples of John Baptist in the community among whom the Fourth Gospel was written and much more inclined to think that they were Jews who made use of some of Jesus' sayings about John Baptist to put him on a pedestal in order to embarrass the Christians. 2

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of Jesus over John Baptist but this does not prove that there was a rival group attached to the Baptist in the church. The argument may well have been purely ideological and the sole concern of the evanglist may have been to reply to Jews who, although not disciples of John Baptist, magnified him to annoy the Christians. With this reserve Baldensperger1 was right in emphasising the antibaptist polemic in John. Before John the synoptics had effaced the originality of John Baptist's preaching; he was reduced by them to the almost schematic part of a precursor. This tendency is much more strongly marked in the Fourth Gospel where he is nothing more than 'a man sent by God to bear witness to the truth' (i. 7) and it is stated that 'he was not that light but was sent to bear witness of that light' (i. 8). This statement is so important in John's eyes that he does not hesitate to break the organic development of the prologue in order to make it. In the same way John Baptist's reply to the Jews who question him begins with a categorical negative, 'I am not the Messiah' (i. 20). This plainly implies the existence of a group of people who, either out of conviction or for polemical purposes, were stating or insinuating that the Messiah was John Baptist and not Jesus. Very characteristic also is the narrative of iii. 22-iv. 3 which culminates in this declaration from John Baptist, 'He must increase, but I must decrease' (iii. 30). The gospel is also a statement in opposition to Greek mysticism. The frequency with which phrases referring to light and glory are repeated over and over again may be explained, as has been suggested,2 as due to the part they played in a liturgy which more or less resembled that of the mysteries to which Christianity was opposed. But Wetter3 carries things too far when he says that in John's eyes the Christian worship realised in full what the liturgies of the mysteries were really trying to attain and that the Johannine Christ is the perfect type of the priest represented in the mystery religions, who brought those who trusted him to light and glory. We are reading too much into the gospel, if we interpret the request of the Greeks who want to see Jesus (xii. 20) as the form of words used by the candidate to demand initiation,4 or draw a comparison between the sayings on sanctification and the rites of initiation,5 or claim to recognise in Christ's agony an echo 1

Baldensperger, Pro/, viert. Ev., 1898. Wetter, Die Verherrlichung, p. 78; Ich bin das Licht, p. 166. * Wetter, Die Verherrlichung, pp. 64, 101. 6 * Ibid. p. 57. Ibid. pp. 95 f.

1

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of the sentiments of the initiate at the time of his initiation,1 or 'in the new commandment* the law imposed on the initiate.2 To do this would be to explain what it must be confessed is not very clear by a very flimsy hypothesis and far-fetched reconstruction. It is true that John's gospel contains a conception which played a great part in the mysteries, namely that the drama of redemption is repeated in each individual,3 but this originates from Paul's principle that the faithful believer is associated with the sufferings of Christ. The origin of Paul's principle must be found in the peculiar character of his conversion. We are simplifying over much and, what is more, falsifying things, if we presume that Johanninism contains elements taken from a liturgy of the mystery religions. It remains true, however, as Norden rightly observes,4 that the Fourth Gospel is not the work of a mystic recluse, who composed it as it were shut up in his own cell but it shows contact with affairs and transports us into the thick of a conflict which Christianity was waging with the various forms of Greek religion for the domination of men's souls. 2.—THE FIRST EPISTLE OF JOHN

The conceptions of the first epistle of John are those of the gospel in an extended form but they differ in several ways. In the epistle they are cheapened and given popular form, as without going farther can be seen from the prologue to the epistle (i. 1-14). It is an imitation of the prologue of the gospel but differs from it in this respect that the two terms apxrj and Aoyos- are used in a different sense, apxy does not mean the eternal origin of things but the beginning of the Christian preaching while the logos of life is the preaching of the gospel and not the eternal word of God. The epistle has the same conception of sin as the gospel but is much more concerned about it. This is due to the fact that its author seems to have been mixed up with the life of the church more directly than the evangelist who seems to have lived in a select group of Christians. The epistle is much more directly polemical in purpose than the gospel and has in mind not rival groups but heresies. Lastly the epistle corrects and adds clarity to certain phrases from the gospel, from which not without some show of logic conclusions seem to have been drawn which were contrary to the thought of the evangelist. 1

Wetter, Die Verherrlickung, pp. 60, 62. 8 * Ibid. p. 67. Ibid. p. 51.

366

4

Norden, Agn. Ther., p. 299.

THE JOHANNINE THEOLOGY

The problem of sin in the life of the believer weighs much more heavily on the mind of the author of the epistle than on the evangelist's. He states that Christ expiates sins and frees the faithful from the domination of Satan (ii. 2; iii. 8 f.; iv. 10). Sin thus has a positive meaning and is not merely the equivalent of not having received the word of Christ. It would have been impossible for the author of the epistle to have said with the evangelist that sin would not have existed, if Christ had not come and spoken (John xv. 22).1 But we find in the epistle some ideas which come from the gospel, and are applied not to man in his natural state but to the Christian. They are stated in much more categorical terms than those used in the gospel: 'Whosoever abideth in him sinneth not. . . . Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin; for his seed remaineth in him: and he cannot sin because he is born of God' (iii. 6-9; cf. i. 18). But the epistle also speaks of sin in the life of the Christian,2 a statement which can hardly be reconciled with those which have just been quoted. To recognise the existence of sin in the life of a being who, it has been said, cannot sin, and to entertain the idea of a sin which does not necessarily involve the loss of salvation3 means that experience has triumphed over theory. There are two reasons apparently why the epistle differs from the gospel in this way: the writer of the epistle (i) had had a more direct experience of what the life of Christians was in fact, and (2) was replying to an antinomist group who may have been justifying their contentions by certain phrases from the gospel. The epistle has antinomism clearly in mind: 'Whosoever committeth sin transgresseth also the law; for sin is the transgression of the law' (iii. 4). The epistle not only replies on the theological level to a dialectical apology for some moral slackness but makes certain practical suggestions. It evolves the conception that some sins which are termed 'mortal' cut a man off from salvation so definitely that it is futile to pray for those who have committed them. Other sins, although in theory they are incompatible with the Christian life, do not necessarily involve the loss of salvation, because forgiveness for 1 It is true that we find in John the idea that the Passion is a struggle between Christ and the prince of this world (xii. 31; xiv. 30; xvi. n, 33). But it is cosmic in character. The end of it is to bring the elect from the world below to the world above by victory over the prince of this world who is keeping the elect down. In the epistle the struggle is ethical. Its purpose is to free men from the domination of sin. 2 Statements such as i. 9 and ii. 2 prevent us from thinking of sins committed before conversion. 8 But this would happen if the brethren did not intercede.

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them can be obtained through the intercession of the church (v. 16-17). The writer has here surrendered something of the primitive moral ideal which was uncompromising and retreated from his theological position that sin was incompatible with the life of a Christian. In addition to antinomism the epistles attacks two other heresies both of which are christological in character. One of them is a form of Ebionitism (ii. 18-27) and *s described by the author as denying the messiahship of Jesus, which simply means that those whom he has in mind had a different conception of messiahship from his own.1 The other consists in denying that Jesus had come in the flesh, i.e. a form of docetism (iv. 1-3). We shall return to these heresies later on.2 At the moment we will only note that the epistle judges their appearance to be the realisations of prophecies which had referred to the coming of antichrist. In this context he corrects or rather adds precision to the -teaching of the gospel on the action of the Spirit. Generally speaking, he maintains the same doctrine without alteration (ii. 20-27; iii. 14; iv. 13), but the idea that heretics are antichrists, i.e. that they are inspired by the devil, upsets the balance of the doctrine by making it necessary for discrimination to be made between the Spirit of Christ and that of antichrist. The criterion to be used3 is as follows: 'Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus is come in the flesh is of God: and every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God* (iv. 2). The purpose of the author is to harmonise the teaching about the spirit given in the gospel with the doctrine which had been already fixed and formulated in the church. In this way the function of the spirit has been perceptibly narrowed. This is an example of the way in which religious thought loses spontaneity while it gains stability and is precluded from enterprises which are not without risk. Taken as a whole Johanninism was strongly influenced by Paulinism but is shown to be less tumultuous and tragic in character. This is because the personality who created it was of a different type from Paul. He had not passed through the same experiences or known a catastrophic conversion. The apparent date of the fourth gospel allows us to suppose that John may have been born and bred in a Christian environment and so found his faith in a perfectly natural way. That is why his Christianity is quietistic in tone and his conception of sin attenuated. 1 8

Concerning the fact that the Ebionite group left the church see p. 408. See pp. 407 ff. * Paul gives exactly the same criterion in i Cor. xii. 3.

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There are other differences between them. John's eschatology is realised and spiritualised in a more coherent fashion than Paul's and there is less apocalyptic. This is due to differences in time and environment. Although John shows himself to have been subject to Palestinian influences, he remains a Greek whose outlook has been only superficially and almost only verbally affected by the Jewish conception of a temporal dualism. We have seen that the gospel seems to have been composed originally within the confines of a small group and that it was edited at a later date to adapt Johaiminism to the general outlook and needs of the church. The epistle seems to have been written for the same purpose. While we have no information concerning in what environment Johanninism came into existence, we may ask ourselves if we may not imagine it to have been a group of men made perfect, spiritual, or gnostics (wise) in the sense which Paul gives to these words (i Cor. iii. i ff.; cf. viii. i ff.). This would explain the freedom with which John treats certain traditional ideas such as that of judgement and also the boldness of some of the phrases used by him which, as the revision to which they were subject in the epistle shows, were not adapted to the needs of the church at large. The Fourth Gospel gives us an insight into an aspect of Christian thought for which there is hardly any other evidence and on the existence of a form of gnosticism which was not a heresy and provides an explanation of certain trays in later doctrinal developments. 3.—THE J O H A N N I N E APOCALYPSE

The book to the Seven Churches forms an introduction to the Apocalypse (i-iii) and seems to have come from the pen of the same author who wrote the rest of the book but to have been written about ten years earlier. It is taken up with two concerns: one refers to a measure of slackness and indifference in the life of Christians which the author strives to withstand, the other to the danger of Christian thought being involved in a heresy called the heresy of the Nicolaitans.1 In the background can be discerned the threat of persecution. The Apocalypse itself reveals a different situation. The threats of persecution have either become more definite or have begun to be realised, or perhaps it would be truer to say that the author has come to see that the conflict between the church and the empire 1

24

Concerning the Nicolaitans see pp. 409 ff.

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cannot be resolved by compromise but is taking the form of a fight to the death.1 This he sees as the last and most dramatic episode in a great struggle which began at the creation between God and the demonic powers. In this way John identifies the cause of Christians with that of God and boldly predicts the triumph of the church in spite of the formidable disproportion in the material forces at its disposal. He tries to encourage the church in face of the critical period which it is on the point of entering by suggesting the final triumph and at the same time he exhorts it to faithfulness. In the face of danger a kind of sacred union is made and doctrinal divergencies pass into the background. Only one thing counts, faithfulness in confessing the faith. To recall the great apocalyptic struggle would seem to be far removed from the serenity, of mystic contemplation to be found in the fourth gospel. If, however, we take the thought out of its context there is a striking affinity between the central idea of the Apocalypse and the way in which the evangelist portrays the passion as a struggle between the prince of this world and Christ who proves to be conquered in spite of appearances to the contrary. The saying of Jesus to his disciples, 'In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good courage, I have overcome the world' (xvi. 33) would seem to be the motto of the Apocalypse. That does not imply that the gospel and the Apocalypse were written by the same author, but shows that the two books may have emanated from the same environment, or at any rate environments sufficiently near to one another to have mutually influenced each other. It is not just due to chance or solely because they date from almost the same period that the fourth gospel, the Apocalypse, and the epistle to the Hebrews are those books in the New Testament which contain the most advanced christology.2 The christology of the Apocalypse shows some peculiar trays. The term most often used to designate Christ is 'Lord' which is sometimes given in the stronger form 'King of kings and Lord of lords' (xvii. 14; xix. 16). 1 See pp. 524ff-»535 #• * No importance can be attached in this respect to the fact that the celestial warrior's name is 'Word of God* (xix. 13). This is a gloss which was introduced under the influence of the gospel because in verse 16 it is said that his vesture and thigh are inscribed with his name which is 'King of kings and Lord of lords'. This also is an addition made by the compiler to his source. Verse 12 says that on his head he carried a name which no one but he knew. This must mean a name written in characters which no one but he could read. Cf. Lohmeyer, Die Offenbarung des Johannes^ Tubingen, 1926, p. 155.

37°

THE J O H A N N I N E THEOLOGY

In this way the sovereignty of Christ assumes a meaning which restores it to the Jewish tradition. The pre-existence of Christ is clearly stated. Christ is the beginning1 of God's creation (iii. 15), the first and the last, the alpha and omega (i. 17; ii. 8) but the apocalypticist's prevailing interest lies in what Christ has done, in what he is going to do in a future which he portrays as very near2 and in the victory which he is going to gain over the demonic powers who are at war with God and are tormenting the faithful. He is qualified to do this through the drama of his death and resurrection. The speculative element in the christology of the Apocalypse answers above everything else to the demand to exalt the Christ.3 A close connection is made between the drama of Christ's death and resurrection and his part on the last day. Christ is the dpwov4 who has been sacrificed (v. 6, 12), the first begotten from the dead (i. 5), he who was dead and is alive again and possesses the keys of Hades and Death (i. i8).5 Because he has conquered, Christ is seated with his Father on his throne (iii. 21). Here there are traces of Pauline influence; it is stronger than Johannine christology. The soteriology of the Apocalypse has two poles: the forgiveness of sins and the final deliverance. The very nature of the book causes the author to lay special emphasis on the latter element. The forgiveness of sins and their deletion through the blood of Christ are firmly stated (i. 5; v. 9-10; vii. 14-15; xiv. i, etc.). But how this takes place is not explained. That is perhaps because the author of the Apocalypse has no very deep conviction or conception about sin.6 He does not seem to have considered it to be much more than a defect inseparable from human nature. He speaks of purification rather than transformation. Life on earth is, at least for Christians, 1

Or perhaps the principle. Cf. 1,3.7 ; HI, 3. 10 ; VI, 9 ff.; XIV, 7 ; XVII, 14 ; XXII, 7, 10, 12, 20, etc. The description of Christ given in the opening vision of the book to the Seven Churches contains a number of features which have been borrowed from visions of the prophets where they are described as belonging to God. 4 The word apviov is usually but inaccurately translated 'the Lamb*. It is true that the word apviov is a diminutive of aprjv which means ram, but in the first century dpi}v had fallen into disuse and only apviov was used. As Spitta showed (Christus der Lamm, in Streitfragen zur Geschichte Jesuy Gottingen, 1907, pp. 172-224) the image used in the Apocalypse originated from the Jewish tradition (Enoch, Testaments of the xii Patriarchs). It does not suggest the idea of a weak animal who suffers without being able to defend himself but a beast full of strength and fire who goes at the head of the herd to lead and defend it. 5 i.e. the power over Hades and Death. 6 This is also a point on which the thought of the Apocalypse resembles that of the Fourth Gospel. 2 8

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tribulation and suffering rather than a cause of sin. Sin belongs to the past; it has been washed by the blood of Jesus; there is no question of its still existing. The apocalypticist considers that only one thing is needed for the deliverance which he expects from Christ on the last day, i.e. fidelity in witness. In this respect his thinking follows much more closely the lines of Palestinian Christianity than those of Paul. It would seem that for his ideas he owes most to the Jewish tradition and at the same time he seems to have no interest in the gospel history.

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CHAPTER VI

Christianity as an Ethical Religion in the Epistle of James and the Didache I.—THE EPISTLE OF JAMES

BOTH from the literary and historical point of view and in respect of its place in the development of Christian thought, the epistle of James1 is an enigma. Some scholars consider it to be the earliest Christian document;2 others even suppose it to be pre-Christian, a Jewish work which has only been superficially made Christian by the introduction of the name of Jesus Christ3 in two passages (i. i; ii. i). Every possible date has been suggested up to the beginning of the second century.4 As the epistles of Peter and Clement of 1 The most important work on the epistle of James is by Dibelius, Der Brief des Jakobus, Meyer, XV7, Gottingen, 1921; J.-H. Ropes, The Epistle of St. James, Edinburgh, 1916; Windisch, Die katholischen Briefe, Tubingen, I9ii, 2 1930, pp. 1-36; Chaine, UepHre de saint Jacques, Paris, 1927 ; J.Marty, L'epUre de Jacques, Paris, 1935, can also be consulted with advantage. 2 F. H. Kruger, Uepitre de Jacques, leplus ancien document du Nouveau Testament, Revue chretienne, 1887, PP- 605-618, 685-695. * This hypothesis was put forward simultaneously by L. Massebieau ('L'e*pitre de Jacques est-elle Fceuvre d'un Chretien?' R.h.r., 1895, XXXII, pp. 249-281) and by F. Spitta ('Der Brief des Jakobus', in Zur Geschichte und Literatur der Urchristentums, Gottingen, 1896, II, pp. 1-239). These two scholars arrived at the same conclusion quite independently of each other (cf. Spitta, pp. iii and iv). Two Jewish scholars, Joseph HaleVy (Lettre d'un rabbin de Palestine egaree dans Vfivangile (sic), Rev. stmitique, 1914, XXII, pp. 197-201) and Joseph Klausner (Jesus of Nazareth, his Life, Times and Teaching, translated by H. Danby, London^ New York, 1927, Eng. trans., p. 367) produced similar opinions. Without going further, Arnold Meyer (Das Ratsel des Jacobusbriefes, Giessen, 1930) considers the epistle of James to be a Christian adaptation of a Jewish writing. His argument greatly impressed Windisch as can be seen by comparing the two editions of his commentary. 4 There are not lacking other books in the New Testament about which there are wide differences of views on important questions. What is peculiar to the epistle of James is that the differing views are not due to differing conceptions of the whole course and development of primitive Christianity.

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Rome appear to be dependent on the epistle of James1 and refer to it, it cannot have been composed later than 85-90.* On the other hand, the author tells his readers in the passage iv. 7 of the 'worthy name by which ye are called'. This can only refer to the name of Christ invoked at baptism and therefore shows quite plainly that the epistle is a Christian document. This is also clear from the discussion on faith and works (ii. 14-26). James here has in mind, if not Paul's doctrine, at any rate his phraseology about the superiority of justification by faith over the works of the law. But he has misunderstood the doctrine; by works James does not mean, as Paul meant, the observance of the Jewish ritual but charity towards one's neighbour who is in need. Faith for James is wholly an intellectual virtue; it is not a mystic union with Christ but the kind of belief in the existence of God which even demons may have. From this fact two conclusions may be drawn, (i) James had no direct knowledge of the Pauline epistles. Although his whole outlook and temperament differed from Paul's, if he had read the epistle to the Romans or the epistle to the Galatians, he never could have so completely misunderstood Paul's thought as he has done. The misunderstanding could only have arisen, because the problem of the law as it arose when Paul formulated his doctrine of justification by faith no longer existed. James then belongs to the post-pauline period and he must have written the epistle before the epistles of the apostle had been gathered into a corpus and had begun to become known in the church at large. It is peculiarly typical that in a book which was claimed to be James', the leader of the Jewish Christian party, there is no trace of particularism or Jewish ritualism. It is none the less true that the Christianity to be found in the epistle of James differs considerably both from Paul's and from the variety to be discovered in the writings of deutero-paulinism. It is essentially ethical. Mystical and christological elements are hardly present at all, although it must not be said that they are completely absent,3 since the epistle shows a certain familiarity with the 1

The epistle describes itself as the work of James without defining to which James it refers; but apart from the brother of Jesus there is no James who played any part in Christianity in the first century and possessed such prestige that there was no need to define who he was. 2 We cannot agree with Guignebert's opinion (Le Christ, p. 43) that the epistle belongs to 'the first third of the second century and to the beginning of it rather than the end*. 8 It might be asked if the impression produced by the epistle of James was not due to the fact that it is an exhortation pure and simple. But if we examine the underlying themes of this exhortation we shall find that they are purely ethical.

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tradition giving the sayings of Jesus.1 But they were only used for purposes of moral exhortation2 which in other respects still more closely resembles Jewish moral exhortation.3 In James* eyes Jesus is hardly anything more than the revealer of true wisdom, the wisdom which comes from on high and differs from that taught by the flesh. He does not give much consideration to the idea of sin; for him it has nothing to do with a corruption of nature. The moral ideal is exalted. The author with vigorous emphasis condemns harshness towards one's neighbour, indifference on the part of the rich towards the poor, servility towards the powerful, the exploitation of the disinherited, and an attachment to the goods of this world. He criticises with force hesitating and divided attitudes and moral inconsistencies. We must also note his exhortations to faithfulness in trial and temptation and the way in which he threatens sinners with the judgement of God (v. i ff.). He speaks of this judgement as if it was very near. This, however, does not denote a resurgence of eschatological sentiment. What he says of the imminent judgement of God must be taken as a traditional theme in exhortation. It would perhaps be going too far to say with Lietzmann4 that there is no trace of any peculiarly Christian sentiments in the epistle of James since the moral strength behind the epistle which give it its value comes from the gospel. But Lietzmann is certainly right when he says that Gentile Christianity in the hands of small men who owed nothing to Paul ended in resembling the kind of Judaism which missionaries preached in the diaspora. To try and define the position of the epistle of James in the history of Christianity it is important to know where it was written. Unfortunately we have no definite sources of information about this. Nothing can be made of what is said in v. 7 about the early and later rains for which the husbandman waits, because (i) there are many districts to which this could refer, and (2) it may be more or less a traditional theme of exhortation which had come to be used in other districts besides the one where it originated.5 The fact that 1

Ritschl (Die Entstehung der altkatholischen Kirche2, Bonn, 1857, p. 109) remarks that the epistle of James echoes more closely the sayings of Jesus than any other book in the New Testament. For the study of the recollections of the sayings of Jesus in the epistle see R. Patry, L'epttre de Jacques dans ses rapports avec la predication de J6susy Alencon, 1899; Dibelius, pp. 27 ff.; Marty, pp. 258 ff. 2 A comparison comes to mind with the way in which in the Didache the Book of the Two Ways is embellished with quotations from the gospels. 3 It also contains features resembling Greek exhortations. Dibelius' commentary 4 5 has made this clear. Lietzmann, H. I, p. 217. Dibelius, pp. 46, 224.

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the epistle of James seems to have been known and valued at Rome from the end of the first century onwards, as is shown by the influence which it had on the first epistle of Peter, the epistle of Clement of Rome and the Shepherd of Hermas, is not sufficient for us to consider it to have originated in Rome.1 Many scholars such as Jean Reville and Johannes Weiss2 think that it originated in Palestine or Syria, their only reason probably being that the epistle is attributed to a person who seems never to have left Palestine or at any rate did not live very far away.3 But this argument carries little weight as Paul's epistles show that James was well known in the churches of the Greek world. The absence of any allusion to a concrete fact or situation which could be defined in more than general terms4 compels us to share Dibelius'5 opinion that it is best to give up any idea of determining the geographical origin of the epistle. To try and discover the context of James' Christianity we must therefore confine ourselves to the internal evidence .provided by the epistle itself. The only positive hint given to us here is that James' Christianity owes nothing to Paul. We have to understand it to be an offshoot of Palestinian Christianity but one which has been influenced by Hellenism to this extent, that it has been freed from particularism and Jewish ritualism and has become universalist. We saw6 that Palestinian Christianity had two centres, one in the past, i.e. the historic Jesus, his ministry and teaching, and the other in the future, what Jesus will do when he comes to accomplish his redemptive work on the last day. But at the moment he has no positive function. The eschatological hope died down and grew feeble with the result that the balance of Palestinian Christianity changed. The importance of Christ's return diminished; it remained only as a theory and all that was left for Christ was his function as a teacher, preacher, and revealer of true wisdom and the sound way of life. That is what we find Christianity to be in the epistle of James. 1 As is done with some measure of reserve by Bruckner ('Zur Kritik des Jakobusbriefes, Z.f. wiss. Th.y 1874, XVII, pp. 530-541); Von Soden (HandCommentar zum Neuen Testament, III, 2s, Freiburg in Breisgau, Tubingen, 1899, p. 176); Grafe (Die Stellung und Bedeutung des Jakobusbriefes in der Entwickelung des Urchristentum, Tubingen, Leipzig, 1904, p. 45); Loisy (Naiss. du christ., p. 31). 2 Reville, Oirg. de Vepiscop., pp. 229 ff.; Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 578, n. 8. 3 We cannot count in favour of Palestine the fact that the author addresses himself to the Twelve tribes who are in the dispersion (i. i), because, even if it is something more than a literary fiction, we must understand the term dispersion in a figurative sense and suppose it to mean believers who are still living far from 4 6 6 their celestial country. Dibelius, p. iii. Dibelius, p. 46. See p. 99.

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The Didache1 is a document belonging to about the year 100 and appears to have originated in Syria, or perhaps, but less probably, in Egypt. It is partly a catechism, partly a liturgy, but more than anything else a kind of manual containing directions for those who found themselves with the charge of governing the churches and do not seem always to have had clear ideas on what they ought to do or how they ought to act. The Didache seems to have been written for a group of churches which were situated where Christians and Jews lived in contact with each other; their separation was complete but there were certain links between them. The author seems to have dreaded the influence of Jews upon the church and makes every effort to distinguish the two groups, but he emphasises external differences.2 The Law has ceased to be a question at issue but the author advises his readers to abstain from foods forbidden by the law without, however, insisting on it.3 The churches which he has in mind seem to have lacked organisation. The charismatic ministry had almost completely disappeared.4 It was only surviving in the form of an itinerant ministry of teachers and prophets who are also called apostles.5 While in principle the authority of inspired persons and inspiration itself was 1 The full title of the document is fDoctrine (it might also be translated "Teaching") of the Lord to the nations through the mediation of the Twelve Apostles'. The term nations must be understood to mean the peoples of the world without any distinction being drawn between Jews and Gentiles as there is no allusion to there being any difference in the church between them. As for the term apostles it only occurs in one passage (xi. 3-4) where it is applied not to the twelve who are never mentioned but to teachers and itinerant prophets. We may therefore suppose that the title was added some time after the work was written. 2 e.g. he advises his readers not to fast on the same days as the Jews who are called hypocrites (viii. i) and not to use the same forms of prayers as they do but to recite the Lord's prayer (viii. 2). He also wants services of worship to be held on Sundays (xiv. i) but he does not give as his reason for this the necessity of distinguishing themselves from Jews. 3 On the subject of foods he advises his readers to do what they can (vi. 3) which shows that he considers that the prescriptions of the law about prohibitions of foods to be still valid to some extent, but there is a sharp contrast between what he says about these prescriptions and his uncompromising prohibition which follows immediately to consume what is offered to idols. 4 The passage x. 7, which says that the prophet can celebrate the eucharist as he wishes, i.e. improvise the prayers instead of using the forms prescribed in chapters ix and x shows that for a prophet to preside at the eucharist was an exceptional case. 5 Adventurers crept in among the itinerants. The Didache advises precautions to be taken against them. See E.P., pp. 508 ff.

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not called in question, it was causing a certain amount of uneasiness. The charismatic ministry had so far declined in prestige that most of the churches had ceased to gain anything from it, but no other kind of ministry had yet arisen everywhere to replace it and in those places where it was beginning to become established it did not enjoy unquestioned authority. Between different parts of the Didache are found very distinct theological differences. The contrast is sharp between chapters i to vi which informs us of the teaching which must be given to candidates for baptism and chapters ix and x which gives the text of prayers to be said at the celebration of the eucharist. Chapters i to vi reproduce with the addition of some sayings from the gospels a little treatise of Jewish morality, the Book of the two ways. The prayers in chapters ix and x are informed with a kind of mysticism which is not particularly Johannine in character but sufficiently resembles it to show marked affinities with it. These prayers cannot have been composed among people who were satisfied with a Jewish treatise, the Book of the two ways? as an instruction to be given to those who wanted to receive baptism. They were borrowed from another circle of people with whom the churches of the Didache were in contact. We are therefore in the presence of a form of Christianity, in which at least two currents, coming from two distinct types of Christianity, meet without completely interpenetrating each other. We must try to define the character of each of them. There are, it is said, at the beginning of the moral catechism, two ways, one of which leads to life, the other to death. It goes on to describe each of the two ways. The instruction is therefore divided into two parts. One is positive and describes what one must do to have life; the other is negative describing what leads to death and must be avoided. We have here at the outset a peculiarly Jewish legalistic conception. What is Christian in it, which is far from negligible, is that the moral ideal put forward for realisation is not made up of commandments from the law but from sayings of Jesus. First is given Jesus' summary of the law which he gave (Mark xii. 28-34; Matt. xxii. 34-40) or approved of (Luke x. 25-2S),2 then the golden rule, 'not to do to others as one would not do to 1 The epistle of Barnabas also reproduces the Book of the Two Ways, Book VIII of the Apostolic Constitutions (1-21) does the same. Cf. Harnack, Lehre d. zw. Apost., pp. 174-176, 178-186. G.a.L., pp. 86 ff. Its use in the church was not therefore an isolated instance. 8 Cf. Barnabas, xix. 5.

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oneself (Acts xv. 19, Western text) (i. 2) and next the sayings from the Sermon on the Mount concerning the way in which we must regard our enemies (Matt. v. 39-48; Luke vi. 27-36;1 i. 3-5«).2 This is followed by a saying which breathes a very different spirit. It is a warning to those who would ask for alms without really needing them and advice only to give alms with care and knowledge. In reference to this, the following saying is quoted:3 'Let thine alms sweat in thine hands until thou knowest to whom thou art giving* (i. 5#). This is followed by a series of prohibitions (murder, adultery, sodomy, debauchery, theft, magic, poisoning, abortion, infanticide, etc.). The faithful man will have to love all men.NHe will reprove some and pray for them; he will love others more than his own life (ii. i-y).4 This is repeated in chapter iii but with this difference, that it does not refer so much to sins themselves as to the sentiments and practices which engender them.5 The last paragraph of the description of the way of life advises a man to reverence as the Lord himself the masters from whom he has received his teaching,6 to avoid divisions, to give alms in order to obtain forgiveness of sins, to bring up children in the fear of the Lord, and to be gentle with slaves and servants. On the other hand, slaves are advised to submit to their masters who are for them God's representative (iv. i-iz).7 In conclusion, a man must keep the commandments of the Lord without adding anything to them or taking away anything and, in order that he may not come to prayer with an evil conscience, he must confess his sins in the congregation of the faithful (iv. 13-14). The way of death is described more briefly.8 First, there is a catalogue of vices such as the moralists of the time loved to draw up. Then comes a brief conclusion. A man must see that no-one 1 One detail shows that these sayings of Jesus in their profoundest sense were not always understood. The Didache quotes this saying, 'If any man will take from thee what is thine, refuse it not', but he adds the words, 'For other reasons you may not be able'. The form of the saying given here is not quite the same as in the gospels. Translator's note.—The Greek is literally 'for thou art not even able'. As this does not make sense Kirsopp Lake translates 'not even if thou canst'. 2 The Didache adds the advice to avoid corporeal and carnal passions (i. 4). This was a current theme of Christian exhortation. Cf. Romans xiii. 14; Ephesians ii. 3; i Peter ii. n. 8 A saying of Jesus which either had come from an extra-canonical tradition or is quoted from an unknown book. 5 * Cf. Barnabas, xix. 3, 5, 7, n. Cf. Barnabas, xix. 2, 4-6. 6 This is a specifically Jewish sentiment which recalls the way in which the rabbi had to be honoured by their disciples. 7 8 Cf. Barnabas, xix. 2, 4, 5, 7-11. Cf. Barnabas, xix. 12.

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makes him deviate from the form of teaching which has just been given for he teaches him without God.1 The man will be perfect who will bear the whole yoke of the Lord. But in the mind of the author of the Didache this is only an ideal standard of perfection indicating rather than anything else what it is best to try and aim at in life. The man who does not feel he can attain it is only asked to do what he can (vi. 1-2). The facility with which the author limits his ambitions shows that he was living among Christians whose standards were somewhat mediocre. He is far removed from the moral vigour of the epistle of James. A man is invited in this catechism, which it must not be forgotten was a form of instruction preparatory to baptism, to rely on his own natural strength to resist the passions of the body and flesh and to obey the commandments of the Lord. Sin and the way in which forgiveness can be obtained are hardly mentioned. There are only two short notes about it; iv. 6 advises a man to give alms in order that he may in this way give a ransom for his sins; iv. 14 speaks of confession of sins before the congregation of the faithful but it is not stated to be a condition to be fulfilled to obtain God's forgiveness; by itself it prevents prayer from being spoilt by an evil conscience, which means that by itself it purifies. Christ and his redemptive work and the grace of God are not even mentioned. In addition there is no thought of sanctification being the work of the Spirit of God or Christ. The catechism is pure and unadulterated moralism and in spite of the few sayings of Jesus to be found in it the atmosphere is purely Jewish. It might be supposed that the character of the instruction had been determined by the nature of the source used and by the fact that the author had not sufficient mastery of it to impose his own outlook upon it. But when we look at the other parts of the book there is nothing to justify an explanation of this kind. To take an example, in reference to baptism forgiveness of sins (vii) is never mentioned. The instruction however is more concerned with the way in which the rite should be administered than with its significance. If forgiveness of sins had been a central idea in the rite, it would be quite surprising if there were not signs of this in the baptismal formula recommended for use. 1 The Spirit is only mentioned in the catechism in iv. 10 which in referring to the proper attitude of the Christian towards his slave or servant says that God is over masters and slaves; he comes not to call men with respect of persons but those whom the Spirit has prepared.

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The instructions concerning Sunday worship in chapter xiv must also be considered as they also are in complete agreement with the opening catechism. Before a man breaks bread to celebrate the eucharist he must confess his sins in order that the sacrifice may be pure and, if anyone has a quarrel with his brother, he must abstain from participating in the rite until a reconciliation has been made. There is no suggestion that forgiveness from God is needed. The only idea is that the faithful believer must purify his heart by confessing his sins and becoming reconciled to his enemies in order that he may be able to give God the worship pleasing to Him. The eucharistic prayers show quite a different type of Christianity which had penetrated from outside the church where the Didache was composed.1 They describe Jesus as servant (frous) of God (ix. 2, 3; x. 2-3), revealer of life, knowledge (ix. 3), faith and immortality (x. 2). This is the language of the Hellenistic mystery religions; in the conceptions used by them to reveal life and knowledge is also to give and to communicate these things. God is glorified because he has given the faithful through his servant Jesus spiritual food and drink (x. 3) and has caused his name to dwell in their hearts (x. 2). One last thing must be noted in these prayers, i.e. the yearning for the time when the church which is now scattered to the four winds will be gathered and sanctified in the Kingdom of God (ix. 4; x. 5). The presence in these prayers of the ideas of Christ as revealer of knowledge and immortality shows some affinity with Johannine mysticism but the idea of sin receives much less notice than in John. This may be due to the fact that it was influenced less by Paulinism and more by Greek mysticism. It is quite certain that the author of the Didache cannot have composed these prayers himself; it is none the less plain that he would not have adopted them unless he and those among whom he lived had shown themselves amenable to the ideas and sentiments expressed in them. The fact that these prayers were borrowed shows that these people had been influenced by another type of Christianity which, however, was not sufficiently strong to repress the moralising type. It was imposed upon it but did not harmonise. It is possible that the mystical ideas which we find in the eucharistic prayers penetrated the group of churches for whom the Didache was written through the agency of itinerant preachers. This would 1 Concerning the conception of the eucharist behind these prayers, see E.P., pp. 362 f.

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explain the mixture of respect and embarrassment which the author shows for inspiration and inspired persons. There are other signs showing that pneumatism was not an indigenous element belonging to these churches but had penetrated them from outside. The Didache thus affords significant evidence for the work of assimilation and interpenetration which was going on at the end of the first century between the various forms of Christianity. In it two types are placed side by side rather than mingled together. One of them belongs to the same species as that represented by the epistle of James. The other is shown to be a mystical type of Christianity, which had been little influenced by Paulinism but may have been a little more so by Johanninism. It is also conceivable that it was a development resembling Johanninism with perhaps this difference. It should be envisaged as a combination of Greek Christianity with Hellenistic mysticism while Johanninism would be more accurately defined as Greek Christianity expressed in the language of Hellenistic mysticism.

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CHAPTER VII

The Pre- Catholicism of Clement of Rome THE Christianity of Clement of Rome, or, to be more exact, the Roman Christianity, which is reflected in the epistle which Clement1 wrote about 96 to the church at Corinth in the name of that at Rome2 shows certain trays which are common to the epistle of James and the Didache. It possesses sufficient originality to make it in some respects a novelty, so that it marks an important stage in the long process of Christianity becoming stabilised and organised. It is legitimate to use the term pre-catholicism because we find in 1

There are very many editions of the epistle of Clement. Among the principal ones may be mentioned J. B. Lightfoot (The apostolic Fathers, Part I, London, 1869,2 1890), Von Gerhardt and Harnack (Patrum apostolicorum opera, i, i, Leipzig, 1876). These two editions contain exhaustive commentaries and an introduction by Funk, Patres apostolici? Tubingen, 1906. A good English translation is to be found in the Loeb texts (The Apostolic Fathers, translated by Kirsopp Lake, London, New York, 1914). R. Knopf's commentary (Lehre der zwolf Apostel. Zwei Clemensbriefe, Tubingen, 1930) can also be consulted with profit. These editions and commentaries contain many bibliographical references. Among the most important works we will only mention R. Knopf, Der erste Clemensbrief, Leipzig, 1899; Harnack, 'Der erste Clemensbrief, Eine Studie zur Bestimmung des Charakters des aeltesten Heidenchristentums*, S.B.A., 1909, pp. 38-6 3; Einf. Tradition makes the end of the reign of Domitian the approximate date of the composition of the epistle. Various hints confirm this date. It is a long time after the Apostolic period. The first bishops and deacons whom they appointed have already had successors (44, 2 f.). The church at Corinth has behind it a long history (47, 6). There are in the church at Rome people who have led an irreproachable life from youth to old age (63, 3). The massacres of 64 seem to belong to such a distant past that none living can remember them (see pp. 96 ff. and E.P.). Lastly, at the beginning of the letter Clement alludes to a difficult period through which the church has just passed. This is recognised to be a reference to Domitian's persecution. The epistle seems therefore to have been composed shortly after the accession of Nerva when the persecution came to an end. 2 The epistle itself does not pretend to have been written by Clement. The author always expresses himself in the first person plural. He is the spokesman of the church of Rome. There is nothing to cause us to question the traditional attribution of the epistle to Clement. Hennas (Vis. ii. 4, 3) mentions a Clement as being authorised to regulate the relations between the church of Rome and the

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Clement's letter certain features strongly delineated which later belonged to the character of early Catholicism, in particular, a close association between a theological conception containing a strong moral element, and a theory, which by linking together true doctrine and the church as a stable organisation presents it as the body within which the life of the Christian may advance on the road to salvation, guided by a ministry exercising its functions because it is a divine institution. From Clement onwards the church is a supernatural organism. For Clement it is the concrete church here and now not, as for Paul, the ideal church of eschatological expectations which is an institution of salvation. The circumstances which determined the composition of this epistle do not by themselves explain the character of its thought. Its style is so emphatic that we must put on one side the idea that it contains a theory improvised to solve a problem which had just arisen. Circumstances only provided Clement with the occasion for expressing ideas which must have been current for some time in the ruling circles of the church of Rome.1 Concerning Clement himself we have hardly any exact information. In spite of real difficulties in the way of chronology he is sometimes identified with Paul's collaborator mentioned in Philippians iv. 3, whom tradition says was pope.2 It is of little importance as the ideas expressed in the epistle are more than personal. There had been troubles in the church at Corinth after which the presbyters who were in office were deposed.3 The church at communities outside. If we identify the Clement mentioned by Hermas with the author of the epistle we are relieved of any difficulties connected with chronology as the Shepherd of Hermas is more than half a century later than the epistle to the Corinthians. For the history of this question which has been a subject of much discussion see Harnack, Pair. ap. op., III, pp. 26 ff. Harnack, who in 1877 declared himself against the identification, has since (Einf., p. 169) declared himself for it. Lightfoot1 (I, pp. 359 f.) and Dibelius (Der Hirt des Hermas, Tubingen, 1923, pp. 422 f., 453) also admit the identification but think that Hermas named Clement because he wanted to antedate the celestial letter which Clement was charged to communicate to the churches outside in order to increase his prestige. Hemmer (Peres apost. II, p. xc) inclines to think that Hermas' Clement is an imaginary person. Lelong (Les Peres apostoliques IV, Le Pasteur d*Hermas, Paris, 1912, p. xlv) thinks it a synonym for the author of the epistle. 1 For this theory and the question of knowing how far it is true see E.P., pp. 70 ff. 2 Concerning his place in the early lists of bishops see Lightfoot, I, i, pp. 46 ff., 92 f., 144-202; Hemmer, pp. i ff. 3 Clement does not enter into any discussion on the complaints made by the Corinthians against their elders. This is perhaps due to the fact that they did not altogether lack foundation in fact but more especially because, as we shall see elsewhere, Clement is more concerned with a question of principle than of fact.

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Rome was forced to restore order in her sister church after she had learnt what had happened—we do not know how—and intervened with her counsels. The epistle is firm in spirit and moderate and prudent in form. Clement has great confidence that the Corinthians will accept the counsels given by him. We do not know what was the outcome. Whatever happened, relations between the churches of Rome and Corinth remained excellent as is proved by the correspondence of Denys of Corinth with Rome.1 The letter begins with a short introduction apologising for the church of Rome's delay in intervening. Clement then sketches a picture of the splendid condition up till recently enjoyed by the church of Corinth and the reputation which it had acquired (i-iii). To explain what has just happened and to emphasise its gravity, he shows by a number of examples what ravages quarrelling and jealousy cause (iv-vi).2 He then makes an appeal to penitence (vii-viii) which is followed by a long exhortation extending to chapter xxxix. This has no direct relevance to the events at Corinth. It gives an idea what form preaching must have taken in the church of Rome at the end of the first century. After the exhortation to penitence there follow notes on obedience, faith, and hospitality (ix-xii), God's blessings and man's attitude towards them (xix. 2-xxii. 8) and lastly the resurrection (xxiii. 1-27; xxvii. y).3 A brief bridge-passage The elders do not hold their powers from the community which is therefore not qualified to withdraw them. Clement seems to minimise the conflict somewhat by speaking of those who had provoked it as a few persons (I, i) and even of two or three (Ixvii, 6). In any case these instigators of trouble must have found a response in the latent sentiments of the majority of the members of the church as they followed them. All sorts of hypotheses have been made. Reville (Orig. de Vepiscop., pp. 403 ff.; Orig. de Veuch., pp. 40 ff.) thought that the conflict originated in the elders claiming to be the only persons who had the right to perform certain ecclesiastical acts, particularly that of presiding at the eucharist. Perhaps in the exact form in which he states his hypothesis there is too much conjecture. But it seems true that the conflict was caused by the increasing amount of authority claimed by the elders. We are belittling the significance of the conflict too much if, as Harnack does (Einf. p. 92), we think that only personalities were at stake and there were no questions of principle involved, or as Lietzmann thinks (H.y I, p. 206) that it was a case of the younger generation being opposed to the old, the young demanding a new division of powers which were entirely in the hands of the old. W. Bauer (Rechtgl. u. Ketz, pp. 99 ff.) thought that the conflict was doctrinal in character. He judges it to have been an extension of the conflict waged by Paul at Corinth against gnostics and libertines. The fact that the instructions in the letter on doctrine are in vague, general terms is not favourable to this hypothesis. 1 Eusebius, H.e., IV, 23, 9-12. 2 It is in this context that the apostles, Peter and Paul, are quoted as having been8 victims of thes'e vices. See E.P., pp. 232 ff. The resurrection of Jesus is mentioned at the beginning but occupies a smaller place in the chain of reasoning than other arguments of a pseudo-rational

25

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(xxviii) refers to the omniscience and omnipotence of God which has been demonstrated by the resurrection and leads to the idea that, as Christians are the object of God's choice, they must accomplish works of sanctification (xxix-xxx). The concluding part of the exhortation describes the way in which man will be blest (xxxi-xxxvi). To this Clement attaches another exhortation that they should submit themselves to God and subordinate themselves to each other as is required of them in the community (xxxvii-xxxix). The letter then returns to its central theme. Chapters xl-xliv treats of the order of the ministry and its institution by God which the Corinthians have disregarded by deposing their elders. The principles are stated from which spring the instructions given to the Corinthians. Chapters xlv and xlvi form a connecting passage; they deal with people of wealth who have been often persecuted and pursued by wicked men. Then in another connecting passage consisting of chapters xlvii-1 Clement recalls the warning which Paul had previously given to the Corinthians when their church had been divided into rival factions. He then passes on to more concrete instructions. Those who initiated the movement must confess their sin and make an act of repentance. The church will compel them to leave Corinth (liii-lv). It will pray that they may submit themselves to the will of God (Ivi): then comes an appeal to repentance addressed to the rebels themselves (Ivii-lviii). This is crowned by a long prayer (lix-lxi) which must be a liturgical prayer in use in the church at Rome.1 After a doxology it ends with an intercession for those who suffer, the persecuted, the sick, and the poor, and with a triple prayer for forgiveness of sins, peace, and the general good, and those in authority. The whole prayer is again followed by a prayer of thanksgiving. The epistle concludes with a summary of Clement's previous exhortations (bdi-bdii) and recommends three trusted men, Clausius Ephebius, Valerius Biton and Fortunatus who are sent to Corinth to bring the letter and to add to it their own exhortations (Ixiv). It finishes with a greeting (Ixv). There are, it can be seen, two elements in this letter. There is its essence, i.e. instructions for restoring the situation which has been created at Corinth by the revolt against the elders. There are also hortatory and liturgical elements which provide first-hand information about Roman Christianity at the end of the first century. What is most character such as the succession of day and night, sowing times, and the history of the phoenix bird. 1 1 shall return to this prayer in E.P., pp. 266 ff. 386

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striking about it is its strong ecclesiastical character. The Christian life is only conceived to be possible within the framework of a supernatural society synonymous with a divine institution in which the laity are strictly subordinated to the clergy. For with the epistle of Clement we meet with a clear-cut cleavage between clergy and laity. There are few quotations and reminiscences of the gospel tradition in the epistle. The life and teaching of Jesus as well as his redemptive work are only on the fringe of Clement's Christianity. One reminiscence of the parable of the sower (xxiv. 5) and two quotations of sayings of Jesus1 are practically all that can be discovered. The Old Testament is the principal source of Clement's inspiration and provides him with what he considers to be the most suitable incentives with which to impress his readers.2 This pre-catholicism imbued with the Roman legalistic spirit has a very marked moralising character and approximates closely to Judaism. Worship, adoration and prayer are addressed to God, while Christ plays only quite a secondary part. It is true that there is a mention of the wisdom, gentleness and piety 'in Christ* formerly possessed by the Corinthians (ii. 2) but this is hardly anything more than a traditional phrase. The point emphasised most by Clement is that they formerly walked according to God's commandments, submitted themselves to their leaders, gave their young good instruction, and kept their wives in submission (i. 3). Christ is not even mentioned in those passages dealing with forgiveness. *You stretched your hands to Almighty God, beseeching him to be merciful towards any unwilling sin' (ii. 3). Chapter vii is rather different. As he states in it that he is coming to 'the glorious and venerable rule of our tradition' (vii. 2) we should expect to find the quintescence of Clement's thought here but what follows, 'Let us see what is good and pleasing and acceptable in the sight of our Maker' (vii. 3), shows that he is thinking of God and not of Christ, and that what he finds in the tradition is a rule of life. Yet he invites his readers to reflect how the blood of Christ3 is precious in the eyes of God, since it was poured out for 1

In xiii. 2 there is a quotation from Matthew v. 7; in xlviii. 8 from Matthew xxvi combined with Luke i. 1-2. 2 This suggested to many critics that Clement was of Jewish origin. It is by no means impossible. It remains true, however, that this use of the Old Testament corresponds to the general outlook of the church of Rome. 8 In xii. 7, Clement even speaks of the blood of Christ which gives a purification to all those who believe and hope in God and in xxi. 6, he speaks of the Lord Jesus Christ whose blood has been given for us.

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our salvation and brought the grace of repentance to the whole world (vii. 4). This is , an echo of Paul's phrases, without any precise significance. What follows shows that the blood of Christ does not directly give salvation but creates repentance. Clement's thought in general lacks firmness; he goes on in vii. 5-7 to show by examples borrowed from the Old Testament that God in every generation brings to repentance those who come back to him. Penitence therefore gives salvation. Clement states this even when he is using phrases from Paul. Thus he writes, 'And therefore we who by the will of God have been called in Christ Jesus, are made righteous, not by ourselves, nor by our wisdom nor understanding nor by the deeds which we have wrought in holiness of heart, but through faith* (xxxii. 4). But Clement does not mean what Paul meant, since he adds that God has justified all men from eternity. What part then can the sacrifice of Christ play? Paul would never have written as Clement does, 'Let us then join ourselves1 to those to whom is given grace from God; let us put on concord in meekness of spirit and continence keeping ourselves far from all gossip and evil speaking, and be justified by deeds, not by words' (xxx. 3). And this is how Clement, after speaking of the good things enjoyed by the elect, defines what gives salvation: 'But how shall this be? If our understanding be faithfully fixed upon God; if we seek the things which are well-pleasing and acceptable to him; if we fulfil the things which are in harmony with his faultless will, and follow the way of truth, casting away from ourselves all iniquity and wickedness, covetousness, strife, malice and fraud, gossiping and evil speaking, hatred of God, pride and arrogance, vain-glory and inhospitality' (xxxv. 5; cf. ix. i). Christ has no part in all this. Except for the fact that he would not have mentioned Christ by name at all, a Jewish preacher might have expressed himself in exactly the same terms. If Christ calls to a real repentance he is not the only one to do this, since the instruction which begins in chapter viii and is made up of quotations borrowed from the Old Testament is introduced with the words, 'The ministers of the grace of God (he means the prophets and writers of the Old Testament) spoke through the Holy Spirit concerning repentance*. All the exhortations addressed to the authors of sedition or to those who have allowed themselves to be won over by them are directed to bringing them back not to Christ but to God.2 1 2

There must be understood 'in order to imitate them'. e.g. xiv. i; xix. 2; xxi. i; xxvii. i; xxix. i; xxxiv. 4, 5, 7. 388

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Clement has a clear" idea of the part played by Christ in the realisation of salvation, but he uses phrases which he has borrowed from a tradition which means nothing to him except in a superficial kind of way. Thus in chapter xxi he shows what instruction in Christ must be given to children. He speaks of the strength of humility before God, the power of pure love before God, of the effects of the fear God inspires, how God saves those whose conscience is pure, searches our thoughts. He says that his breath is in us and when he will he will take it away (xxi. 8-9). Christ's part is only to instruct: it is God who speaks. Clement wants a man to be firm in faith in Christ, but to define this faith he only quotes from passages in the Psalms (xxii. 1-8). Chapter xxxvi contains a passage in which Clement seems to be speaking of Christ with a little more warmth of spirit and in a more personal tone but, whatever the fervour shown in the passage, it never goes beyond the idea of Christ as educator and revealer of the way of salvation. 'This is the way in which we found our salvation, Jesus Christ, the high priest of our offerings' (xxxvi. 1-6). Clement owes his inspiration for all this directly to the epistle to the Hebrews (ii. 17, 18; iii. i; iv. 16). But its influence is purely verbal; Clement never recalls the doctrine of the sacrifice of Christ. Clement quotes the statement of Psalm ex. i quoted in Hebrews i. 13, 'Sit thou on my right hand until I make thine enemies a footstool of thy feet', and makes this comment on it, 'Who are then the enemies? Those who are wicked and oppose his will.' Both the author of the epistle to the Hebrews and Paul before him had taken this statement in a metaphysical and cosmological sense but Clement gives it a moral significance. The purpose of Christ's work is no longer to purify men from their sin but only to show them what they must do to be saved. 'Let us serve in our army, brethren, with all earnestness, following his faultless commands' and he supports this exhortation by taking as a pattern the discipline prevailing in the Roman army (xxxvii. 1-2). To obey God's commandments is the only way to obtain forgiveness of sins (1. 5). A function, however, is attributed to Christ, since Clement quoting what Psalm xxxi (1-2) says of the blessedness of those who have obtained forgiveness for their sins, adds, 'This blessing was given to those who have been chosen by God through Jesus Christ' (1. 7). A little earlier he had said, 'All the generations from Adam until this day have passed away: but those who were perfected in love by the grace of God have a place among the pious who shall be made manifest at the

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visitation of the Kingdom of Christ* (i. 3). It follows from this statement that strictly speaking Christ's intervention is not absolutely necessary for men to be able to come to blessedness. His function does not emerge with any greater clearness in lix. 2 where the faithful are asked to pray that through Jesus Christ, his wellbeloved child, God may keep the number of the elect intact. This presumes that Christ exercises protection over them, but we are not told how he does it, and in what follows it is only God who is mentioned. The church's prayer is addressed to God as the one who helps and brings succour. In a beautiful moving oratorical passage the church supplicates Him for all the unfortunate in order that, the concluding passage says, 'all the nations may know that thou art God alone, and that Jesus Christ is thy child, and that "we are thy people and the sheep of thy pasture'" (lix. 3-4). This shows piety of a Jewish type freed from any kind of particularism. Except in one passage which plainly owes its inspiration to the epistle to the Hebrews Christ is not called Son but only 'child' of God. Clement's thought is more closely related to Palestinian than to Greek Christianity. This is clearly apparent in the long final prayer from which we quote two passages, *O merciful and compassionate, forgive us our iniquities and unrighteousness, and transgressions and shortcomings. Reckon not every sin of thy servants and handmaids, but cleanse us with the cleansing of thy truth, and guide our steps to walk in holiness of heart to do the things which are good and pleasing before thee, and before our rulers'1 (Ix. 1-2). And this is the way in which it ends, 'we praise thee through Jesus Christ, the high priest and guardian of our souls, through whom be glory and majesty to thee, both now and for all generations and for ever and ever. Amen' (Ixi. 3). At the end of the letter Clement describes what he has written as a statement of 'the things which befit our worship, and are most helpful for a virtuous life (cis evaptrw /3i6v) to those who wish to guide their steps in piety and righteousness' (Ixii. i). Up to now we have not given any thought to Clement's ideas concerning the organisation of the church but this must be done not only because the incidents at Corinth gave rise to them but also because in Clement's eyes the organisation of the church played an essential part in bringing mankind salvation. The church as well as being a supernatural society, both in principle and in its ends, is also one in its organisation and its manifestations; in actual fact the 1 These rulers appear to be political authorities. Cf. Knopf, p. 114. 390

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form of worship and priesthood as laid down in the Mosaic legislation are applied to it. Its hierarchical organisation, which subordinates the laity to the clergy, was created by the apostles acting in accordance with the Lord's instructions. As Clement conceives the church it loses its eschatological character; it has become an institution for the education of the faithful. Clement does not go as far as formulating the catholic principle, * Outside the church, no salvation', but his thought looks forward to it. If the first task of the faithful believer is to submit himself to the elders, how could he be on the road to salvation when he is in revolt against them or keeps himself apart from the church which they are directing? Now that the church is settled on earth the question of its relations with the political authorities assumes a growing importance. We must not make too much of the fact that, to prove the necessity of obedience, Clement refers to the firm discipline and organisation of the Roman army (xxxvii. 2) in such terms as show that he felt proud to be a Roman. But the prayer for those in authority in chapter Ixi shows it, although it follows the lines of Romans xiii, i Peter ii. 13 f. and i Timothy iii. i f.1 Clement did not think that Christianity implied an absolute unconcern with the affairs of the world. After the persecutions of Nero and Domitian that is all the more significant. In varying degrees and not altogether in the same way Clement's Christianity shows affinities both with Palestinian Christianity and also principally in the forms derived from Paul and the epistle to the Hebrews with Greek Christianity. But it is not a development of either. The connection with Palestinian Christianity is shown by the use of the term servant (or child) to designate Jesus, by the importance given to penitence and lastly by an emphasis on morals to which Palestinian Christianity leads when it is deprived of eschatological belief.2 On these points Clement's thought shows striking affinities with that of the epistle of James and the first part of the Didache. The incidence of literary influence alone does not explain them. A parallel development under the influence of the same causes gave birth to James' Christianity and to Clement's. But in addition to the resemblances there are also fairly clear differences. Although it can be maintained without being ridiculous that James' epistle may be a Jewish writing and certainly that some 1 See also for a later period Polycarp, Phil. xii. 3; Justin, Apol. i. 17, 3;Tertullian, 2 Apologtt. 28, 32, 39. See.pp. 373 ff.

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of its sources are Jewish, the same hypothesis cannot be put forward for the epistle of Clement of Rome. Two reasons explain the difference between them which is here revealed. One must be found in the influence of Greek Christianity. This influence we saw was superficial and verbal but none the less it preserved in a latent state, as a static if not a dynamic religion the original elements of the gospel as understood by Paul which could not be derived from Judaism. The other is the fact that Clement's thought is shown to be ecclesiastical in character. It does not belong to an individual but to a religious society which felt that it was distinct from the Jewish community even if it had no clear idea where the distinction lay.

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CHAPTER VIII

Heresies I.—HERESY AND THE C H U R C H ' S A S P I R A T I O N S AFTER UNITY. DEFINITION OF HERESY. THE G R O U N D S OF ITS APPEARANCE

PRIMITIVE Christianity in the first generation held the conviction with singular intensity that unity was an essential mark of the church. The church must be one because Christ, its foundation and centre of its being is one. Paul admits that there may be and even that it is inevitable and perhaps good that there should be differing opinions in the church, cU/jeW?,1 but there must not be o^to/jara, deep divisions between members of the body of Christ setting them at variance with each other (i Cor. xi. 18-19; cf. i. 10; xii. 25; cf. Phil, iii. 15-16). There was the feeling in the latter half of the first century that this unity,' capable of description as it was, did not exist. The Johannine Christ does not pray that his disciples may remain one but that they may be one (xvii. n). The eucharistic prayers of the Didache show nostalgia for unity rather than the presence of it as a reality (ix. 4; x. 5). The church of the end of the first century shows it to be an ideal when it describes the Christians of apostolic times as being 'of one heart and mind* (Acts iv. 32), as 'continuing steadfastly in the apostles' doctrine' (ii. 42). It was thought that this blessed unity had been destroyed by disloyalty and ambition, i.e. by men's sinfulness and the malice of Satan. Many passages of the New Testament belonging to relatively late books, such as the Pastoral Epistles (i Tim. iv. i; 2 Tim. iii. i; iv. 3) or the first epistle of John (ii. 18; iv. i) or even admittedly late works like the epistle of Jude (18) or 2 Peter (ii. i ff.; iii. 3) declare that in the last times, which are just the times in which the authors of these books feel that they are living, there will arise false prophets, antichrists, masters 1

The word is used here in quite a different sense from what it acquired afterwards.

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of error, creators of schisms and heresies. The appearance of these wicked men was in their eyes a symptom of the coming of evil days, which according to Jewish apocalyptic ideas were before the end came to cause Satan to rage with redoubled force because he would feel that his final defeat was near.1 What happened only corresponded to these predictions, as they were planned out, in a very remote fashion. The first generation was unaware of any contradiction between sound doctrine2 and heresy, not because there existed perfect unity in thought but because the phrases used to express belief still only retained their validity so far as they sprung from inward conviction itself, in other words, so far as they expressed experience. There could thus be a wide diversity in the phrases used without any feeling that the unity of the church was in any way compromised thereby. It was different in the second generation when the relationship between experience and expression was reversed, experience ceased to give birth to doctrinal expression which itself created experience and adhesion to a particular doctrinal truth was held as the condition which must be fulfilled for a man to be able to share in salvation. Doctrine in this way came to exist in its own right as it preceded experience and what differed from it appeared as heresy. The two opposing conceptions of sound doctrine and heresy are closely bound together; one defines the other and neither can exist without the other. Heresy in principle is any line of thought3 which differs from the official expression of the church's faith and yet claims to have the right to exist and develop within the community. For the period under consideration this definition must be treated as flexible, as no rigorously phrased confession of faith yet existed.4 Heresy cannot yet be spoken of as being a way of thought opposed to that of the 1

The traditions of the Palestinian churches with which we are acquainted through Hegesippus (in Hegesippus, H.e. iv. 22, 5) show the same idea in a slightly different form. Until Simeon was elected bishop of Jerusalem in place of James who had died a martyr's death, Hegesippus tells us, the church deserved the epithet Virgin* because no heresy had yet soiled it. But a certain Thebuthis was disappointed because he did not attain his ambition to become bishop and began to corrupt the church by introducing into it the pernicious ideas of the seven Jewish heresies. 2 It might be called orthodoxy but the term would be rather an anachronism. 8 Heresy as a conception must be understood to include the practical devotional, and ethical consequences flowing from this way of thinking. 4 In Paul's epistles there are passages which seem to reproduce formulae belonging to a confession of faith but they vary in form and have no definitive character.

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majority of the members of the church, but only one opposed to the ideas of certain groups perhaps not large in numbers, who exercised or tried to exercise a preponderating influence in the church and whose ideas were ultimately destined to be imposed upon it. This explains why, although the exponents of sound doctrine may pass severe judgement on heretics, they do not go so far as to demand their exclusion from the church; it is not because of their moderation as their words show no discretion in this respect, but because they have the feeling that if they asked for strict measures against the heretics, they would not be granted.1 The common name heresy covers a wide range of forms of thought, which have in common this feature only, that they do not agree with those forms which prevail on the church or are tending to do so. Some heresies might be described as intra-christian. Some of these are the persistence in certain congregations of archaic forms of thought which the church as a whole has outgrown. Such is the Ebionite heresy which the first epistle of John opposes and such also in a more general fashion is Jewish Christianity after 70. Others might be considered to be logical developments of accepted principles of the faith which none the less somewhat seriously contradict, if not the faith itself, at least the general conception of the faith. Such was antinomism which was deduced from certain phrases used by Paul but was certainly foreign to his thought. Other heresies which we call extra-christian show a synchretistic character. They are a result of introducing into Christian thought elements which had developed outside Christianity and by being integrated within it were in danger of changing its character.2 While the appearance of the idea of sound doctrine called into existence the idea of heresy or at any rate the idea of judging certain ways of thought to be heretical and intolerable, on the other hand, the existence and growth of heresy forces sound doctrine to be defined with growing precision and its field to be so enlarged as to include solutions of problems which it would never have raised, 1 On this point see W. Bauer's book, Rechtgl. u. Ketz. Of the facts mentioned by him I quote the following by way of example: In his epistle to the Philippians Polycarp is fighting a docetic form of gnosticism (7, i) and immediately after in 7, 2 he speaks of the vain thoughts of the majority as he had spoken before of the erring ways of this same majority (2, i). The majority must have been on the side of the heretics whom he was opposing and Polycarp does not mention the bishop probably because he was with them. 2 This classification of heresies must naturally be understood cum grano salts. One heresy may be complex and in its various aspects might simultaneously belong to two of the groups distinguished by us or even to three.

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except for the fact that it could not leave their solution to those whom it considered did not possess the truth. The history of heresy shows that there was in early Christianity a marked difference between the doctrinal position of the general company of the faithful and that of the leading personalities or groups who took the initiative in the struggle against heresy and heretics. At first they were only concerned to put the faithful on their guard against what appeared to them dangerous propaganda. Only by a slow process in the course of the second century when the organisation of the church had become strong did its leaders pass on to the offensive and exclude heretics from the church. 2.—DID THE APOSTLE PAUL REGARD THE J U D A I S I N G CHRISTIANS AS HERETICS?

Must we consider the first stage of the conflict with heresy to be the struggle which the apostle Paul had to maintain with those who tried to impose circumcision upon the Galatians, or with those who took upon themselves, more or less directly on the strength of Paul's own theological principles to assume on certain questions concerning the Christian life, attitudes of which he could not approve? The epistle to the Galatians clearly shows that for Paul the idea that circumcision was necessary for Gentiles if they were to partake of salvation was not just a mistaken interpretation of the gospel but its negation. He speaks of another gospel preached to the Galatians, but he at once corrects himself, and denies that there could be any other gospel except his even though an angel from heaven or he himself were to preach it (Gal. i. 6-9). Neither the violent apostrophe at the beginning of the epistle nor the more balanced statement of v. 2-4 suggest any other idea except a pure and simple negation of the gospel. To be circumcised is not to misinterpret the faith, it is to give it up. It is to renounce all the benefits accruing from the redemptive work of Christ.1 1 The adoption of Jewish ritualism is described by Paul as a reversion to subjection to 'the elements of the world* (Gal. iv. 9), i.e. to the elementary powers, to the angels to whom the government of the world has been entrusted and whom Paul, following the astrological theology of the time, seems to have identified with the stars (cf. Col. ii. 8, 20). The idea that the Galatians were making a setback comes as rather a surprise, as before their conversion they were not Jews but pagans. We can explain the expression which, as is sometimes the case with Paul, is a little forced, as meaning that to adopt Jewish ritualism is to return to a religious position which had been left behind, a retrogression compared with the gospel which is just as wicked as a return to paganism would be.

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The situation at Corinth was infinitely more complex than the one in Galatia1 and there were other factors at work beside the intervention of judaisers from without.2 There was also an internal crisis characterised by a certain moral laxity3 due to the reappearance of the pagan outlook which conversion had repressed rather than exterminated and reappeared, as soon as the first fervour had abated and the church no longer had the benefit of the apostle's firm direction, as he was now pursuing his missionary work in Asia. Simultaneously with the setback we have just mentioned, we recognise that there existed at the basis of the doctrine of the libertines or gnostics which was summed up in the phrase, 'all is permitted* (i vi. 12; x. 23) on the one hand, a misunderstanding of what Christian liberty was intended to mean as preached by Paul, and on the other hand, quite a different idea from Paul's on the relationship between soul and the body and the soul.4 Although Paul believed that the body, being destined to resurrection, had to be kept holy because from now onwards it was the abode of the Holy Spirit, the gnostics at Corinth seem to have thought that as the body was doomed to destruction nothing mattered as far as religion or morals were concerned about its life (i vi. 13 ff.).5 Paul does not seem to have taken this into account. There is ho doubt that in respect of sexual life he could only regard their argument as a paradox. The attitude which they adopted on the question of meats offered to idols, i.e. of what is left over from sacrifices made to idols appeared 1

See Introd. IV, 2, pp. 107 ff. They do not seem to have censured Paul's gospel but to have set to work in a more or less underhand manner to undermine Paul's authority. We have seen (pp. 305 ff.) that the difference between the agitators in Galatia and those at Corinth seems to have been one of method rather than of intention. 2 This is shown by the division of the church into rival factions (I, i. 10-17), an excess of tolerance towards a scandalous sinner (I, v. i ff.) the custom of submitting differences between Christians to pagan tribunals (I, vi. i ff.), the profanation of the Lord's supper (I, xi. 17 ff.) and disorders at the gatherings for worship I, xiv). Possibly some of these happenings were related to doctrinal errors but Paul seems only to have noticed in the Corinthians inconsistencies with the Christian life. 4 As a Semite Paul could not believe it possible that a spirit could exist without a body. He therefore envisaged the future life in the guise of the resurrection. In i Cor. xv he assails the denial of the resurrection as if it were a denial of any life beyond the grave. This was certainly not the idea of the Corinthians who, as Greeks, considered that the soul only came to its full growth when it had been freed from the body in which it was imprisoned as in a tomb or prison. 5 From the same principles the weak seem to have drawn opposite conclusions, saying that as the body was a hindrance to the soul's development its life should be reduced to a minimum. Hence the scruples which some felt concerning marriage. 2

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

to him to be justifiable in theory, but he considered that it did not have sufficient regard for brethren who were ill-informed or weak in the faith. He discussed their ideas1 wholly with practical considerations in mind. There is not what could be accurately called a conflict between sound doctrine and heresy when Paul in Romans iii. 8 protests against those who had accused him of professing a doctrine which favoured sin because he showed that in the end sin would provide an opportunity for God's glory to be revealed.2 He is only seeking here to defend his gospel against a misrepresentation. Paul judged the great struggle which he sustained against Jewish Christians3 to be a conflict not between two conceptions of the gospel, one of which was correct and the other not, but between the gospel and a denial of it. Certain aspects of the crisis at Corinth he saw only as moral failings and deficiencies without suspecting that they could have a dogmatic basis. Yet that does not mean that he was convinced that the unity of the church was as complete as might be desired. It is worth while to stop at this point as Paul's position in this respect is in striking contrast to that which was to become current from the time of the second generation. The first text to be considered is in the epistle to the Philippians.4 Paul has just explained the great change his conversion made in his life, the change in values resulting from it and his new position since he was seized by Jesus Christ. Yet he emphasises that he is 1

1 shall return to this question when I am dealing with Christian morality. See E.P.t p. 561 ff. * Romans iii. 8 is not an isolated piece of evidence. The whole account of the doctrine of justification emphasises the fact that the sinner who has been justified and freed from the domination of sin is thereby pledged to the service of God and bound to the obligation of sanctification. Paul emphasises this so strongly that he shows himself more concerned to defend himself against an accusation of being antinomian than to prevent a doctrine like this being deduced from his theology. Galatians v. 131!. must be understood in the same way and not as if it was directed against persons who were ultra-pauline as Ropes (see p. 314, n. 2.) supposes. In it Paul develops the idea that the liberty to which Christians have been called must not serve as an excuse for the flesh. * Only so far as Jewish Christianity came to attack him on his own ground in the churches themselves which he had founded. * At the beginning of the same epistle in i. 15-18 Paul mentions people who had set about while he was in prison to preach the gospel from impure motives, envy and a desire for strife, in order to give him pain while he was in prison. But he does not stop at that but sees one thing only, that Christ was preached and that gave him joy. Paul may have been mistaken but he saw them only as people who were trying to advertise themselves personally not to preach a different gospel from his own. The epistle to the Philippians seems to me to have been written before the conflict between Paul and the representatives of Jewish Christianity had begun.

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under no illusion that he has attained the end or realised complete salvation. Salvation and the end are still in front of him; they are still at least in theory uncertain of attainment. Alluding then to the Philippians' conviction that they are 'perfect',1 i.e. gnostics, Paul says this: 'Let us therefore as many as be perfect, be thus minded: and if in anything ye be otherwise minded, God shall grant us further revelations. Nevertheless our conduct must be in harmony with what we have attained* (iii. i5-i6).2 Paul wants here to offer as a standard an attitude of humility, which does not consider salvation to be attained and demands a vigilance which must not relax. So far as the Philippians are really perfect as they boast to be, they will approve of the apostle's attitude and, if they do not judge it correct, they have proved that they have not yet attained full knowledge and still need further revelations. From this it may be concluded that there are at least for the time being differences of degrees in Christian initiation and that, as long as there are, there cannot be complete accord of views among believers. From a different point of view the same idea receives confirmation from what we find in chapter iii of the first epistle to the Corinthians. Where Paul is giving instruction concerning factions he has the feeling, which he tries to express in the mildest tones possible but it comes out in the conclusion which is severe in tone (iv. 14-21), that the opposition to him at Corinth is personal. In the comparisons made between him and Apollos it was alleged that Paul's teaching lacked prestige through want of eloquence and wisdom. His reply to this charge was twofold. First he declared that the gospel is above all a power and that the preaching of the gospel owed its efficaciousness to this power, i.e. to the power of the Spirit. Persuaded that the gospel is not only power but also wisdom, i.e. divine not human wisdom, he adds that he has not offered it as such because the Corinthians had not so far developed spiritually and intellectually as to be able to grasp the gospel as wisdom. They are still carnal and not spiritual, they are children who can yet only take milk, not adults to whom can be given more solid fare (i iii. I ff.). This distinction and the metaphor of the food suitable for two groups are not peculiar to Paul. We find them in the epistle to the Hebrews 1

The word must be understood to mean not those who had come to perfection in salvation but those who had attained a higher degree of knowledge. 2 I have translated somewhat freely to make the sense plain. A more literal translation would be almost incomprehensible.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

(v. 12 f.) and their origin must be looked for in the mystery religions which knew differences of degree in initiation. It is not consistent with the principle laid down by Paul in Romans viii. 9, that if anyone has not the spirit of the Lord he does not belong to him, since, while he states that from the point of view of initiation the Corinthians are not spiritual, he in no way questions that they belong to Christ and have received his spirit. The distinction between aapKivoi and TjvevpariKoi only holds good as far as knowledge is concerned; it had penetrated the framework of Christianity from outside. A man's salvation is not in any way compromised because his knowledge has remained in a rudimentary condition and he is only taking milk. From the fact that all the members of the church have not arrived at the same degree of knowledge it follows that there cannot be uniformity in Christian thought; but the unity of the faith and of the church are not thereby compromised. But Philippians iii. 15 show that this diversity in degrees of knowledge is only provisional in character; it is destined to decrease as both the wise and the foolish receive new revelations; but this will only disappear altogether in the world beyond, since, as long as the present economy lasts, knowledge will remain partial and confused (i Cor. xiii. 9, 12). The unity of the church, therefore, cannot be realised in the realm of knowledge, only in that of charity. When Paul comes to deal with the arguments of the libertines concerning the eating of pollutions of idols, i.e. of meats which had been sacrificed to idols, in theory he has no objection to their views but he does not approve of them because anything which in any way touched on idolatry is repugnant to his instincts in virtue of his Jewish origin. But he does not argue. He confines himself to saying that, as well as knowledge which is likely to inflate a man's pride, room must be allowed for considerations of love and of that charity, which takes into account the interests of one's neighbour, especially if he be weak, and is ready to sacrifice something of one's own liberty rather than to run the risk of goading weak men into actions, which run contrary to their inmost convictions, wound their consciences, and in their own eyes are sins (i Cor. viii. 7; Rom. xiv. 13 ff.). Paul then conceived that the church's unity was not realised in the sphere of knowledge but of love. This is quite a different conception from that of the second generation, when sound doctrine and heresy began to be in conflict with each other. 400

HERESIES 3.—THE GNOSTICISM OF COLOSSAE

It is none the less curious to find that in one case at least, at Colossae, Paul had to defend his doctrinal position, not as in Galatia against people who were taking diametrically opposed views, but against people who assented to Paul's principles but under the influence of a Jewish Greek form of gnosticism agreed to the worship of Christ being associated with a worship of angels which took the form of abstinences and ascetic practices, belonging to a system which contained both a cosmology and a soteriology. The Christians of Colossae seem to have been worked upon by a propaganda which had its origin outside the church. While they offered no resistance to its influence, they do not seem to have had any desire or intention of giving up the gospel which had been preached to them. To counter this propaganda, Paul's method was positive rather than negative. He put the Colossians on their guard against the worship of spirits and angels but he insists emphatically on the absolute superiority of Christ, who by his Cross had vanquished all powers and spoilt them. As a result of his superiority what one tries in vain to obtain through the worship of angels is fully realised in the worship of Christ. The whole argument of the epistle is summed up in the phrase, 'that in all things he might have the pre-eminence' (Iva yevr)rai Iv TTOJGIV dvros Trpcoreucov, i. 18). As Paul develops this idea he is led on, not exactly to give his thought a new orientation, but to emphasise ideas which in the previous epistles had only been hinted at or implied.1 His theme is Christ's cosmological function. He does not develop his ideas about this out of any philosophical interest. All his efforts go to prove that the hierarchy of heavenly beings are subordinated to Christ in whom it has pleased God for the fullness of divinity to dwell and by him to reconcile all things to himself, both things on earth and things in heaven (i. 19-20). Paul insists on the supremacy of Christ to prevent anyone seducing the Colossians through specious arguments (ii. 8). As Christ alone can assure salvation it is useless and perhaps dangerous for anyone to try and obtain it by the good will of cosmic powers who are incapable of conferring it. Paul does not make a direct attack on the theories of the gnosticism of Colossae. He concentrates upon the practical consequences 1 E.g. Colossians i. 156°. develops an idea which had been hinted at in passing, that of Christ being the image of God, first-begotten and instrument of creation. 26 4OI

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

to be drawn from them. He forbids the Colossians to keep any rules of abstinence from certain foods or observances connected with feasts, new moons and Sabbaths (ii. 16-17). The gnosticism there was then judaising in character but not purely Jewish as it does not seem to have been concerned with the question of circumcision. As Paul does not have in mind those who were propagating the gnosticism and does not address them with invective or warnings or appeals, it must be supposed that they did not belong to the church but to a synchretistic group outside it.1 The form of gnosticism at Colossae had a speculative character but-the text which states what it was (ii. 18) is so obscure that it cannot be interpreted with any certainty.2 Only the general sense is clear. Paul puts his readers on guard against those (evidently representatives of the gnostic group) who would condemn them by insisting on a false humility (raTreivo^poavvrj).3 This term is associated with the term 'worship of angels' and may have referred to a man being jusified by this cult, the idea being that God is so exalted and so inaccessible that it would be presumptuous to suppose one could address him directly.4 Paul uses the term e^arevwv (ii. i) to describe the position of the devotees of this cult. He must have borrowed it from the vocabulary of gnosticism. The verb e/xjSareueiv is found in three inscriptions connected with the cult of Apollo at Claros;5 it must have referred to initiation. The Colossian gnostics therefore justified their doctrines by claiming that they had had visions. It must then have meant 'the things which he saw at the time of his initiation'. Paul continues with these words, 'Wherefore if ye be dead with Christ from the rudiments of the, world (CXTTO ra>v orrotxeuov TOV /cocrjLtou), why, as though living in the world, are ye subject to ordinances, "Touch not; taste not; handle not", which are all to perish with the using;6 after the 1

It is difficult to estimate how far this group was composed of Jewish elements. But Dibelius (An die Kolosser, Epheser, An Philemon2, Tubingen, 1927, p. 29) seems to be quite off the mark when he supposes that Paul might have made a mistake and taken as Jewish ideas which were not so. 1 For a detailed interpretation I would refer to Dibelius' commentary (Kol.t pp. 25 ff.) the main conclusions of which I accept. It does not seem to me impossible for the text to be corrupt. * The term humility seems to have been borrowed from the vocabulary of gnosticism but it is impossible to determine in what sense it was used. 4 This interpretation is given by Dibelius (KoL, pp. 25 f.) and had been given before in antiquity by Theodorus (iii. 489). 5 Dittenberger, Or. inscr., II, 530, 13. Cf. Dibelius, 'Die Isiswehhe des Apuleius', S.H.A., 1917, 4, pp. 30-36. • I do not consider the last remark (v. 23) to belong to gnostic phraseology. 4O2

HERESIES

commandments and doctrines of men? Which things indeed have a show of wisdom in will,1 worship, and humility, and neglecting of the body* (ii. 20-23). If we are to understand the connection between ascetic practices and the cult of angels, we must begin with what the epistle says of the 'elements', aro^eta, i.e. of the cosmic powers. Paul writes, 'Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ* (ii. 8), and a little further on he offers as the essential reasons for resisting the attractions exercised by these doctrines the fact that the faithful are with Christ, i.e. through their faith in him dead to the elements of the world and therefore have ceased to be dependent on them. It is clear then that in Colossian gnosticism it was supposed that a man's destiny depended on his position in regard to the cosmic powers, which explains why it was thought necessary that he should make them kindly disposed towards him. As these powers were identified with the stars which govern the march of time, we see how this led to observing certain days as feasts and others as unlucky days on which no enterprise was to be taken in hand. As these same powers were connected with certain substances, we can understand also how, in the religious system connected with them, certain foods could be placed under a taboo. Paul shows himself relatively moderate because the Colossians were not thinking of asking for salvation from the cosmic powers but were only trying to assure themselves of their good will or at least of their neutrality for the time being, while their salvation was not yet consummated and they still remained subject to their activity. The agents of gnosticism at Colossae do not seem to have met with any decisive success up to the time when Paul intervened, as he put them on their guard against gnostic practices but was not asking them to give them up. Later on gnosticism had more influence. The epistle to the Ephesians shows that far from having been eliminated it must have grown. Paul seems to have regarded the tendencies which appeared at Colossae as nothing more than an effort to impose upon believers futile observances which were likely to blind them to the essentials of the faith. The doctrines of the gnostics were further removed perhaps from Paul's thought than he himself recognised. They tended to make salvation a cosmological happening while in Paul's eyes it was 1

See p. 402, n. 3.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

essentially something moral and religious set within a cosmic framework.1 Gnosticism at Colossae compelled Paul to sketch out a complete theology explaining Christ's cosmological position and function which influenced doctrinal development by forcing him to produce a general explanation of the world so that the erroneous gnosis of the heretics could be thwarted by the true gnosis. 4.—THE GNOSTICISM WHICH IS ATTACKED IN THE EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS

The epistle to the Ephesians2 seems to have been fighting a more complicated form of gnosticism than that found in the epistle to the Colossians. It is probably the same but in a more advanced stage of development, unless it is supposed that the author of the interpolations in the epistle to the Ephesians was better acquainted with it than Paul. It contains a complete theory on the origin of evil and the means by which it can be conquered. Evil has been caused by the rupture of the unity of the cosmos. Salvation, therefore, will be its restoration. Schlier3 showed that the idea of 'the Ruler of the power of the air* being the cause of sin (Eph. ii. 2) originated in a theory which made out that demonic powers rule in the air and thwart every communication between the world above and the world below and in this way prevent men from participating in the true life. The restoration of cosmic unity, i.e. 'the gathering of all things in Christ, both things in heaven and things in earth' (i. 10) is only made possible by the victory, which he has gained over the cosmic powers. The epistle to the Ephesians lays greater insistence than the epistle to the Colossians on the superiority of Christ over the whole hierarchy of heavenly beings. The gnosticism which it fights does not seem to have denied redemption through Christ. But possibly it excluded from Christ's domination which he had gained through his passion that part of the heavenly hierarchy 1

Concerning the above see my article, 'La caractere et le rdle de I'el&nent cosmologique dans la soteriologie paulinienne', R.h.p.r., 1935, XV, pp. 335-3598 Concerning my hypothesis that the epistle to the Ephesians is made up of a genuine Pauline foundation and later interpolations see my article, 'Esquisse d'une solution nouvelle du probleme de Pe'pitre aux Ephdsiens', R.h.r., 1935, CXI, pp. 254-284; 1935, CXII, pp. 73-99. The contents of this article correct the conclusions to be found in the chapter devoted to the epistle to the Ephesians in my Introd. IV, 2, pp. 431 ff. 8 Schlier, Christus und die Geister im Epheserbrief, Tubingen, 1930. 404

HERESIES

which had not revolted against God1 so that it could be worshipped with Christ at the same time. The interpolator of the epistle to the Ephesians penetrates more deeply than Paul did into the conception which he is fighting; he uses a cosmological conception of salvation but does not cut out those parts of the epistle which express the authentic pauline conception. He envisages salvation as the restoration of cosmic unity and order but he separates himself from the gnostics by affirming that restoration is the work of Christ alone. Distrustful as he is of gnosticism, the interpolator does not see it as a false doctrine which contradicts that of the church. He does not say that it is inspired by demons nor does he hurl anathemas or appear to consider a rupture a possibility. He makes no appeal to the adherents of gnosticism and makes no effort to bring them back to the true faith. They must be looked for outside the church, perhaps in a group which was close to the church and seems at any rate to have exercised a certain attraction for its members. 5.—THE HERESIES ATTACKED IN THE PASTORAL EPISTLES

The Pastorals reveal quite a different situation from that to be found in the epistles to the Colossians and to the Ephesians; the opposition between truth and error, between the deposit of sound doctrine which the church has received and human speculations contradicting it is more sharply defined. For several reasons the heresies which are subject to attack2 cannot be accurately described. Perhaps the author of the Pastorals did not clearly understand them; he may also have been faced with several groups of heretics and have failed to distinguish them clearly; lastly, he was so persuaded that the church possessed the truth pure and unalloyed that he thought it superfluous to discuss the heresies, thinking it sufficient to meet them with the church's teaching and to put them on their guard against the evil consequences to which the heresies were leading them. At the time of the pastoral epistles heretics were not yet separated from the church and were perhaps wanting to discharge ecclesiastical functions. The care taken by the author to emphasise the doctrinal guarantees which 1

What the epistle calls 'Principalities', 'Dominations', 'Powers', 'Lords'. There are a large number of works about the heresies in the Pastorals. Bibliographical information on this subject will be found in the principal commentaries. 2

4°s

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

must be shown by aspirants for these offices is typical in this respect.1 The only heretics mentioned by name are Hymenaeus and Alexander2 in one place (i Tim. i. 20) and Hymenaeus and Philetus in another (2 Tim. ii. iy).3 As Hymenaeus is mentioned in both places we have no reason for supposing that there are two distinct groups of heretics mentioned here.4 When the author predicts that other heresies will come (i Tim. iv. i ff.; iv. 3 S.) he is developing a commonplace theme which was a result of the fiction attributing to Paul letters written in a situation which only came to exist after his disappearance. He says that heretics who will appear at the end of time will forbid certain foods (i Tim. iv. 3). This taboo is no different from a statement attributed to contemporary heretics that some things are impure in themselves (Titus i. 15). The defence of marriage (i Tim. ii. 15) proves that the author knew of people who were already attacking its legitimacy just as heretics must have done later on. The Paul of the Pastorals, when he delivered Hymenaeus and Alexander over to Satan, does not seem to have formally excommunicated them from the church. If proceedings had been taken in hand to excommunicate them, he would have put his readers on their guard against heretics in different terms from those used in Titus iii. 9-11. But while heretics are allowed to remain in the church, the Pastorals do not consider that they really belong to it. The author makes no attempt to bring them back to sound doctrine. He describes them as deceitful and mercenary men who insinuate themselves into houses to seduce ill-informed persons (Titus i. n; i Tim. vi. 5-10) especially women (i Tim. iv. 7; cf. ii. 14; 2. iii. 6).5 Heresy is described as a novelty opposed to the traditional teaching 1 Perhaps it must be added with Jean Reville (Orig. de V£pisc.t p. 276) that the absence of any reference to the itinerant ministry shows that it was regarded with a certain amount of mistrust and suggests that as by its very nature it was difficult to control in any way, it was used by propagators of heresy. 1 There seems no justification for identifying him with Alexander, the coppersmith, who, according to 2 Tim. iv. 14, did Paul much harm. * Phygelus and Hermogenes, according to 2 Tim. i. 15, left Paul, do not seem to have been heretics but collaborators with the apostle who had become discouraged. Cf. p. 541 and Introd. IV, 2, p. 316. 4 Contrary to the opinion of Hesse, Die Enstehung der neutestamentlichen Hirtenbriefe, Halle, 1889, p. 270. 8 For this reason the author fearing that young widows having no employment would become an easy prey to propagators of heresy wishes them to remarry (i Tim. v. 9-15) in spite of the harsh judgement which he passes on second marriages. 406

HERESIES

and explained as due to the action of demons (i Tim. iv. i) and of the passions (2 Tim. ii. 22). They must have been of quite a judaising character as they are described as Jewish myths' (Titus i. I4)1 and many of their adherents were amongst the circumcised (Titus i. 10). The author only mentions the speculations of heretics in a disdainful tone. They are myths and genealogies2 without end (Titus iii. 9) which do not edify but provoke disputes (i Tim. iii. 9), profane and old wives' fables (i Tim. iv. 7; cf. 2 iv. 3-4). Possibly the author did not understand clearly the arguments which he was attacking and did not try to fight false theory with true. He restricted himself to advising loyalty to the traditional teaching (i Tim. i. 4-5; iv. 7; vi. 3 f.; 2 Tim. ii. 14-16, 22, 23; iv. 7; Titus i. 13 f.; iii. 9-11). Heretical thought seems to have been dualist in character. The heretics thought that those men who were involved too deeply in matter could not be saved. To meet this it is declared that God wills all men to be saved (i Tim. ii. 4-6). The argument of Hymenaeus and Philetus that the resurrection has already taken place is also a dualist conception.3 The insistence of the author of the Pastorals on the manhood of Jesus (i Tim. ii. 5) and on his belonging to the race of David suggests that the heretics associated docetism with their dualism, which is after all quite natural. In actual fact, dualism ended in ascetic practices which the author of the Pastorals describes as being 'the commandment of men' (Titus i. 14). He is referring to a marriage prohibition4 and rules of abstinence (i Tim. iv. 3-5). The reactions of the author of the epistles to this kind of asceticism show that it was an essential element of the heresy. 6.—THE HERESIES ATTACKED IN THE FIRST EPISTLE OF JOHN

The conflict against heretics takes up much space in the first epistle of John.5 It describes them as anti-christ whose appearing shows that the end of the world is near (i ii. 18). Three groups are 1

i Timothy i. 7, 8 also shows us the judaising character of the heresies. * Most probably genealogies of angels. 8 This makes us think of John v. 24. 4 The author contradicts this by a eulogy of marriage and maternity (i Tim. ii. 9-15). 5 One of the heretical groups to whom the first epistle of John refers, that of the Docetes, is also referred to in the second epistle, which is chronologically earlier than the first but they are treated in a more summary fashion.

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envisaged, none of whom seem to have been the kind of gnostics who are attacked in the epistles to the Colossians and the Ephesians or in the pastoral epistles. Two of them professed a christological heresy, the third was antinomian. Only one of the groups, the Ebionites, were separated from the church. These heretics, who are dealt with in ii. 18-27, denied that Jesus was the Christ, which must only mean that they did not have the same conception of messiahship as John. Perhaps they were the only group who had remained faithful to the earliest christology of all, the one in Peter's sermons, according to which Jesus, a man sent by God, was by his resurrection exalted to God's right hand as Messiah. John sees in this christology a denial both of the Father and the Son. He is fighting with the heretics for the possession of the truth and faces them with his readers, who have a holy unction (ii. 20-27), i.e. the Spirit who teaches truth.1 The Ebionites took the initiative in leaving the church. John considers this normal and declares that, although they once were in the church, they did not really belong to it as otherwise they would not have left it (ii. 19).* Another heresy contrasted with that of the Ebionites is dealt with in chapter iv. It is that of the Docetes, i.e. of those who reduced Christ's humanity to pure appearance. They seem to have justified their contentions by claiming that they were inspired, as John withstands them by the -argument that before the teaching of the spirit is accepted one must be sure that it comes from God and not the devil.3 The criterion laid down by him is a confession that Jesus came in the flesh. The Docetes are the only heretical group with whom the second epistle which is earlier than the first is concerned.4 Their contention is described as if it were a novelty, as it is said of them that they did not abide in the doctrine (II. 9). The heretic is 1 This is one of the customary arguments of antiheretical polemics. It may also be a recollection of the fact that this christology came into existence in an environment where inspiration was unknown or at any rate was restrained in its activities. 2 The fact that John finds it necessary to justify the departure of heretics from the church shows that everybody did not share his views. 8 Paul had previously shown the necessity for checking the course of inspiration and had laid down as the criterion whether the teaching harmonised with the faith of the church (i Cor. xii. 3). 4 The attitude of the second epistle towards heresies is much more hostile than that of the first. Not only is heretical doctrine condemned but advice is given to avoid contact with heretics, not to salute them or to accept them in one's house (10-11). The last injunction shows perhaps that the heretics referred to were itinerant preachers.

408

HERESIES

described as the man who transgresses (rrpoayo^v) but it is not said what he transgresses. It may be nothing more than the confessional symbol used by the church showing that the heretics did not mean to leave the church but claimed that they were justifying their ideas by interpretations proving that they were not separating themselves from it. iii. 7 f. deals with a third heretical group made up of antinomians whose position recalls that of the strong or gnostics of Corinth. John lays down as a principle that sin (a^apria) and transgression of the law (avo^La) are identical.1 He reminds his readers of the opposition between sin and the Christian life and once more connects sin with the activity of the devil (iii. 8). From this it follows that it is incompatible with the Christian life to reject the law. It is then certain that he has in mind a group of heretics who, inspired by principles of Christian liberty, were maintaining that for the justified Christian the law had ceased to count and therefore the possibility of sin had ceased.2 7.—THE FIGHT AGAINST HERESY IN THE BOOK TO THE SEVEN CHURCHES

The fight against heresy is one of the dominating concerns of the author of the Book to the Seven Churches written between 75 and 85 and used by its author ten years later as an introduction to the Apocalypse. The heretics involved are the Nicolaitans.3 There are also heretics described as followers of the doctrine of Balaam. The prophetess Jezebel of Thyatira seems to have been only a particularly active agent of their doctrine. The Nicolaitans may have possibly derived their name from Nicholas, one of the Seven (Acts vi. 5) who was a proselyte from Antioch. But, as all that we know about him comes from late and confused traditions, we cannot know if there is anything concrete behind this designation, just as we cannot decide if the Nicolaitans of the Apocalypse were the precursors of 1

This means the law in the moral sense not in the ritual sense. This contention has to be harmonised with that of Hymenaeus and Philotus (2 Tim. ii. 17) who maintained that the resurrection had already happened. John v. 24 perhaps throws light on how they are connected. It says that the man who has received the word of Christ has passed from death to life and will not come under judgement. Does not this mean that he has ceased to be under the law? Although the Fourth Gospel does not incline in any way to antinomianism some of the phrases used by it may well have favoured developments in that direction. 3 Concerning all these fairly complex questions which the Nicolaitans raise I would refer to my article, 'Les Nicolaites', R.h.r., 1937, CXV, pp. 5-36. 2

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the immoral Nicolaitans of the end of the second century or whether the latter claimed to be derived from them without justification. What is said about the prophetess, who is given what is certainly the symbolic name of Jezebel, yields us the most concrete details about the Nicolaitan heresy. This woman, whose activities were tolerated by the church at Thyatira, seduced the faithful and taught them porneusai1 and to eat things sacrificed to idols. The Lord had given her time to repent, which shows that the heresy had been in existence for some time previous, but she had not taken the opportunity. Now he will cast her on a bed of sickness; her lovers will be afflicted and he will cause her children to perish (ii. 20-23). On those who have not allowed themselves to be seduced by her preaching, and have not, using the phrase of the group, 'known the depths of Satan', Christ will not impose any further burden in addition to that which they already have (ii. 24-25). At first sight it looks as if the heresy was antimonian and immoral in character. But if it had been, would not John have held up his moral ideal in face of the corruption of the Nicolaitans? The letters show that the life of the churches in Asia was at a rather low ebb but they do not contain any reproof against moral slackness. Those who had committed adultery with Jezebel are summoned to repent, not for their sin but for their deeds. Furthermore, if we remember that adultery is a traditional metaphor for idolatry and doctrinal infidelity and also that the followers of the prophetess are described sometimes as her lovers and sometimes as her children, we shall be ready to interpret the evidence provided by the Apocalypse about Jezebel symbolically. One difficulty is still left in the fact that the verb porneusai is joined to 'to eat things sacrificed to idols' which seems to imply that it must be taken literally. But the word porneia when used in Acts can only mean conjugal unions within the degrees of kindred forbidden by the Jewish law.2 This was a relic of ritual law3 from which the Nicolaitans wanted to liberate Christians. In opposition to them others wanted to be stricter in observing Jewish ritual law. The author does not approve of this tendency and declares that the burden4 which the church is bearing will not be made heavier. 1

1 am not translating this word for the time being. * See p. 299, n. 4. 8 This is even less than what the decree of Jerusalem asked of the Gentile converts. 4 The same word is used in Acts xv. 28 in reference to the commands imposed on the Gentiles. The expression also seems to be referred to in Did. vi. 3. 410

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The phrase 'to know the depths of Satan' shows that the Nicolaitan doctrine contained speculative elements. Is this, however, a phrase of the Nicolaitans or is it a caricature of one? Paul speaks in one place (i Cor. ii. 10) of the Spirit who searches the deep things of God. Might not the Nicolaitans have invoked revelations to justify their ideas and their enemies replied that their revelations had come not from God but from Satan? This is possible but the Nicolaitans may have done what the libertines of Corinth did, i.e. justified their claims to freedom by a theory that, as Satan had been conquered by Christ, he had lost all his power over men. The Nicolaitan heresy found lodgement in only three of the seven churches to whom John addressed his book. The church at Ephesus, hike-warm as it was, rejected the Nicolaitans for whom it had nothing but detestation (ii. 6) and had shown up false apostles (ii. 2) which is easily recognised as a description of the agents of the Nicolaitan heresy. The church at Pergamum is censured for having received Nicolaitans into its bosom (ii. 15). But Thyatira seems to have been the place where the Nicolaitans prospered most, thanks doubtless to the activities of the prophetess Jezebel. But even there, there was no question of their being cut off from the church; they continued as fellow churchmen with those who did not share theif ideas. John considers the presence of Nicolaitans in the church to be an offence and a danger; he is indignant at the culpable indifference with which they are often tolerated. He thinks that it exposes the churches to Christ's anger. Yet neither the Christians of Pergamum nor of Thyatra are explicitly requested by him to expel the heretics. Asiatic Christians in general did not judge the Nicolaitans with the same severity and were unlikely therefore to have complied with such a request. The phrase with which each of the seven letters ends, 'He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches', shows that the Apocalypse was at least intended to be addressed to the whole of Asiatic Christendom. That seems surprising, when we realise that the Nicolaitan heresy which in John's eyes was threatening the whole of Asiatic Christendom receives no mention as existing in four of the seven churches.1 This raises the question as to

1 Zahn (Einl. II, p. 608) thinks that Nicolaitan propaganda was still in its infancy but this explanation does not give satisfaction. What is said of Jezebel suggests an activity which had been in existence for some time previous. Besides, if the propaganda had only just begun, it would have been useful to have given a warning to those churches which it had not yet been able to reach.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

by what method the particular seven churches were selected as representing Asiatic Christendom. Ramsay1 suggested that they were the nerve centres from which information and news was carried. The fresh factions which had sprung up at Ephesus would have been transmitted one by one to each of the others and through them would have penetrated the neighbouring communities. The hypothesis is ingenious, but it does not rest on any positive information and conflicts with the fact, that at the end of the first century the church is still far from being organised on any wider basis than that of the local community. W. Bauer2 made a much more satisfactory proposal by suggesting that John addressed the seven churches which he thought were most likely to hear him. He wondered if Asiatic Christianity, taken as a body, did not think quite differently from John about the Nicolaitans and whether he was not representing a minority who were trying to destroy their influence. May it not be that he does not use his own name as Paul did but writes in the name of Christ because he wanted to impress his readers? Ignatius, a much later representative of the same type of Christianity as John's, wrote only to three of the churches, who had received letters from John,3 and to the three who had received the letters containing the most favourable appreciations. This may have been because the churches of Pergamum and Thyatira had persisted in their more tolerant attitude towards the Nicolaitans and their successors had become more tolerant still, with the result that Ignatius did not write to them. The differences between John and the Nicolaitans seem to have been on questions of practice rather than theology. Could a Christian reject every scrap of Jewish ritual law and consider himself free from certain prohibitions which had formerly been thought necessary to assure that the people of God were separated from idolatrous pagans? The situation revealed by the Book to the Seven Churches to have existed in Asia between 80 and 90 falls into line with the disputes which occurred between Paul and the Jewish Christians. There are also resemblances to the questions which faced the church at Jerusalem probably as a result of the incident at Antioch and which it tried to resolve by the decree the text of which is given in Acts xv. 1

Ramsay, The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia?, London, 1906, pp. 171 ff. Ramsay's interpretation has been accepted by many commentators on the Apoca2 lypse. Bauer, Rechtgl. u. Ketz., pp. 81 ff. 3 Ephesus, Smyrna, and Philadelphia. In addition Ignatius wrote to the Christians of Magnesia and Tralles. Four churches who received letters from John did not receive one from Ignatius (Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Laodicea).

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But the Nicolaitans may have had other reasons for their attitude than those which caused Paul to reject the Jewish ritual law. Rivalry between the two groups of Gentile and Jewish Christians may well have survived, although the issues which had first created it had evaporated and no one would have understood them. In its surviving form it seems to have assumed peculiar characteristics in Asia owing to immigration on a considerable scale from Palestine which took place after 70. The fact that the Nicolaitans in some degree inherited Paul's ideas and were attacked by a man whose name for complex reasons was being received with growing respect throughout Asia, may well partly explain what Karl Holl1 has called the black ungrateful way in which Asia hardly remembered the apostle Paul. 8.—IGNATIUS OF ANTIOCH AND HERESIES

The conflict between John and the Nicolaitans following the opposition between Paul and the Jewish Christians was itself followed by the conflict waged by Ignatius with heretics. Unfortunately the issues are not revealed with any great clarity. In those parts of Ignatius' letters which are concerned with heresies, warnings, exhortation, and invective take up much more space than arguments, which would enable us to form a fairly accurate idea of what the enemies whom he was fighting thought. It must be added that it is certain that the gulf between the heretics and the general body of the church was not as wide in reality as the bishop of Antioch would have wished. Ignatius is much more a churchman than a theologian. The heretics annoyed him because they had revolted against an authority of which as bishop he felt himself to be the depositary. Bauer2 found various bits of evidence showing that, although Ignatius bestowed upon the churches of Asia eulogies which were often dithyrambic in quality, their attitude generally speaking was not what he desired. While he commends the church at Ephesus for having stopped its ears, when someone had come to preach to them a wicked doctrine (ix. i), he does not consider that they are sufficiently grounded in orthodoxy for it to be superfluous for him to put them on their guard against people, who bear the name of Christians but behave in a manner unworthy of God, who are wild beasts and savage dogs biting treacherously (vii. i). The Magnesians are 1 2

K. Holl, Ges. Aufs. II, p. 66. Bauer, RechtgL u. Ketz.t pp. 71 ff.

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similarly exhorted to keep unity in doctrine (vi. i) and put on their guard against strange doctrines, old fables which are profitless, Judaism (viii. i), celebrating the Sabbath (ix. i) and evil leaven (x. 2). Can we believe in the unity of a church, which recognises its bishop in their words but disregard him in all their actions (iv. i)?1 At Philadelphia Ignatius had to foil the intrigues of heretics (vii.). At Smyrna there were Docetes whom he treated as wild beasts. Their preaching must have had some influence as he advises people to avoid meeting them (iv. i). The fact that Ignatius is so concerned that the faithful should have no contact with heretics shows how much he feared their influence. Some of them must have occupied important positions as Ignatius declares that no one must get excited because of the position he occupies (Philad. vi. i).2 Ignatius therefore was next to John the spokesman of a group within the churches of Asia which claimed a monopoly of orthodox Christianity. In some of the churches whom Ignatius addresses, the bishop was the leader of this party but everybody did not follow him and perhaps in some cases in matters of doctrine he influenced only a minority. Ignatius considered the orthodox group to be the only true church; but the vehemence of his invectives shows that the majority of Asiatic Christians did not share his intransigence. But his outlook was destined to triumph in the end and the heretics to be expelled from the church. In his polemics Ignatius seems to have had two distinct groups 1 In the same way the epistle to the Trallians which begins with an unqualified eulogy ends with an exhortation to them to preserve the unity of the church (xii. i). This leads us to think that the unity was compromised. The letter to the Philadelphians opens with a long eulogy of their bishop (i). But the remark that he is able to do more by silence than those who use vain words leaves one to infer that Ignatius regretted that he was not more active in preventing heretics from spreading their ideas. In addition, certain members of the church were not prevented from failing in respect towards Rheus Agathopaus and Philon who followed Ignatius (ii. 2; xi. i). In the same letter the affirmation that the authors of schism will not inherit the Kingdom (iii. 3), the statement that the eucharist is only valid when the bishop or his deputy presides (iv. i), suggest something very different from a church closely gathered round its bishop. a This is supported by the fact that the epistle of Polycarp begins with the words *Polycarp and the elders with him* which makes one think that all the elders did not follow him. Irenaeus reports in the Letter to Florinus (in Eusebius, H.e. v. 20, 7) that when he heard men confessing heresies he whispered, 'Good God, at what a time has thou caused me to live that I should be obliged to put up with this?' Bauer (Rechtgl. u. Ketz., p. 77) remarks that Polycarp makes no reference to the bishop of Philippi and does not anticipate his intervention on the affair of the elder Valens. He must therefore have felt that he was not in agreement with him.

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in mind. In the epistle to the Magnesians he takes to task people who were attached to old fables and were judaising but there is no reference to circumcision or to any other Jewish rites but only to the keeping of the Sabbath (ix. i). Ignatius emphasises the authority of the prophets who lived according to Jesus Christ and received his grace; this might be considered on a rigorous interpretation to be a polemic against a form of ultra-paulinism which was a forerunner of Marcionism. It rather seems as if Ignatius was taking steps to prevent anyone accusing him of underrating the value of the Old Testament. The epistle to the Philadelphians contains a warning against the preacher of 'Judaism' without any reference to circumcision and the Jewish ritual. Ignatius writes, 'It is better to hear Christianity from the circumcised than Judaism from the uncircumcised. But both of them, unless they speak of Jesus Christ, are to me tombstones and sepulchres of the dead, on whom only the names of men are written* (vi. i). He can only be referring here to preaching which was taking place within the bosom of the church. It could not therefore have been a form of Hellenistic Judaism which had lost its particularism and ritual but it might have been a Jewish Hellenistic gnosis resembling that at Colossae which had come to penetrate into the church. This is perhaps the kind of 'Judaism' referred to in an obscure passage dealing with people who say 'if I find it not in the charters in the Gospel I do not believe'.1 This seems to refer to scriptural proofs which some had claimed for their doctrinal affirmations. Ignatius states that this proof exists, but in face of the persistence with which his adversaries kept on doubting this he interrupts his argument and proclaims that for him, 'the charters are Jesus Christ, the inviolable charter is his cross, and death, and resurrection' (Philad. viii. 2). Those whom Ignatius is here attacking must have been men who were extraordinarily struck by the contrast between the gospel and the Old Testament. Possibly they gave a Jewish interpretation to the Gospel instead of a Christian interpretation to the Old Testament.2 Such an idea may well have originated in a Gentile Christian environment as a result of the part played in the 1 The Greek, without punctuation, is as ambiguous as the English: 'If I find it not in the charters—in the Gospel I do not believe', or, 'If I find it not in the charters, in the Gospel, I do not believe*. Probably the former should be preferred on the ground that 'the charters' probably means the Old Testament. (Note from the Loeb Trans. Kirsopp Lake.) 2 For another interpretation of this passage see J. de N.t p. 94.

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preaching of the gospel by the argument from scripture. This would also explain the sentence in vi. i about the uncircumcised who preach 'Judaism*. The danger of the church being judaised which seems to have concerned Ignatius so much may have been in reference to activities directed against the church from outside. The Fourth Gospel shows that at the end of the first century there was lively controversy between Jews and Christians. The evangelist is very much concerned to withstand efforts made by the Jews to attract or bring back Christians to the synagogue. The Judaism which Ignatius attacks may well have been in line with this kind of propaganda put out by penetrating judaisers. In addition to this Ignatius carries on a polemic against a christological heresy which in its characteristic essentials seems to have been docetism. Ignatius speaks of people who claimed to be Christians but acted in a way unworthy of God and then describes Christ as the only medicine which can heal. He analyses his character by a series of antitheses. He is both carnal and spiritual, born and yet not born, God in the flesh, life in death, born of Mary and born of God, suffering and impassible (Eph. vii. i). The heretics have denied one of these series of attributes ascribed by the traditional doctrine in spite of their logical contradiction. The way in which in many passages Ignatius insists on the reality of the flesh, the human birth, the sufferings, death, and resurrection of Christ shows that it was the human side of his person which the heretics refused to recognise. They must therefore have been Docetes. In the passage of the epistle to the Magnesians (ix. i) in which Ignatius explains that the first day of the week and not the Sabbath must be observed, he is making a polemic against those who deny the resurrection. It cannot be clearly known if he has in mind Docetes or partisans of 'Judaism'. But they are certainly Docetes whom he describes as atheists because they say that Christ only appeared to suffer (Tral. ix. 1-3, 10). The Docetes seem to have formed a particularly important group at Smyrna. Ignatius shows himself virulent towards them. He calls them advocates of death and not of truth (v. i). The epithet 'Clothed with a corpse' suits those who deny that Jesus was 'clothed in the flesh' (v. 2). Ignatius refuses to put their name in writing or even to remember them (v. 3). Such men must not be spoken about, neither in public nor in private (vii. 2). He wants to organise a conspiracy of silence against them. 416

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An indirect polemic against docetism can be discovered in the eulogy made by Ignatius on the faith of those men of Smyrna grouped round Polycarp who are the true church. They are 'nailed to the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ, being fully persuaded that he is in truth of the family of David according to the flesh . . . truly born of a virgin . . . truly nailed to a tree in the flesh . . . who has truly suffered and truly died . . .' (i. i-ii. i). The word 'truly' which is repeated each time is underlined by the fact that Ignatius adds 'His sufferings were not merely in appearance, as some say', and he finishes with a point of irony, 'but it is they who are merely in semblance, and even according to their opinions it shall happen to them, and they shall be without bodies and phantasmal'. After this he adds to support the reality of the resurrection of Jesus a story of a resurrection appearance, which, according to St. Jerome, was borrowed from the epistle to the Hebrews1 and is perhaps merely a rather free reproduction of the scene described in Luke xxiv. 3Q.2 What the Docetes seem to have taken most umbrage at was the reality of the passion. The Greek mind found nothing inconceivable in the idea of a god taking a human form; but the idea of a suffering god who died it found invincibly repugnant. The Docetes of Smyrna may have thought with Corinth3 that the Christ was united with the man Jesus at the moment of the baptism and that they were separated at the moment of the passion.4 Or perhaps they accepted the doctrine attributed by Irenaeus to Basilides5 that Simon of Cyrene was miraculously substituted for Jesus and crucified in his place and with his visage.6 Yet Ignatius seems to have insisted on the sufferings and death, not because it was only the reality of these facts which the Docetes denied but because they formed the core of the debate. 1 Jerome, 2

De viris. int. 16; Comm. injerem., XVIII, prol. See my book, Lafoi a la r6s.y pp. 340 f. Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. i. 26, i; iii. n, i. 4 Some trace of this idea can be found in the Gospel of Peter (19) which says that Jesus, before he expired, was abandoned by his Swapis. 6 Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. i. 24, 4. Possibly this was not the doctrine of Basilides himself, but only of his disciples. Cf. De Faye, Gnostiques et gnosticisme*, Paris, IQ25, P. 536 This seems to be the theory envisaged in the Acta Johannis (ch. 97). It was preserved among the Manichaeans as is shown from the form of the solemn renunciation which was imposed upon them. See Kessler, Mani., Berlin, 1889, I, p. 404. 3

27

417

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 9.—THE DIDACHE AND HERESIES 1

The Didache provides little evidence for the history of the conflict between sound doctrine and heresy. But there are some hints available. They have this peculiar interest, that they reflect instinctive reactions rather than a reasoned attitude and on that account seem to show the common feelings of the church. The author is strongly attached to the traditional teaching of the church just because it is what the faithful have received. That is sufficient; he feels no need to prove or even merely to affirm that the teaching is true and that what contradicts it is only error or vanity. To give any kind of instruction which differs from that of the church is to teach 'without God* (vi. i). Those must be accepted who give instruction which conforms to what has been received, and is capable of increasing righteousness and knowledge of the Lord; he who does otherwise must be repressed. When the author is warning Christians to take care not to do anything Jewish (viii. i, 2; xiv. i) the danger which he wishes them to avoid seems to be that of a return pure and simple to Judaism rather than a judaising of Christian thought.2 10.—THE POLEMIC AGAINST HERESY IN THE EPISTLES OF JUDE AND 2 PETER

It is difficult to decide if there is any relationship between the heresies which are attacked in the Book to the Seven Churches, the pastoral epistles, those attacked by Ignatius, and those dealt with in two documents of a rather later date, the epistle of Jude and the second of Peter.3 In any case, these two groups are separated 1 If I had followed chronological order in considering heresy I should have taken the Didache before, Ignatius. But as it seems possible that the heresies which Ignatius has in mind are related to those which are attacked in the Pastorals and the Book to the Seven Churches I resolved to this small extent to abandon the chronological order. 2 The author of the Didache is quite indifferent on the question of observing Jewish food prohibitions; he seems to think it the normal thing to keep to them, but he advises their observance only so far as is possible (vi. 3). But on the question of meats sacrificed to idols he is adamant and absolutely forbids their consumption because he says, 'It is the worship of dead gods' (vi. 2). 8 The epistle of Jude is repeated almost word for word in the second chapter of the second epistle of Peter with this difference, however, that the epistle of Jude quotes two pseudepigraphical books (the Assumption of Moses in verse 9 and the book of Enoch in verse 14) while the epistle of Peter does not give these quotations. This is an indication—and not the only one—that the epistle of Jude is the earlier 418

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by an interval of some importance. Heresies are not discussed in these two epistles. Their readers are only put on their guard against them and they are described in general terms. These two epistles are catholic in the most definite sense of the term; they are addressed to all believers. The authors of these two documents had in mind a concrete situation with a particular time and place but at the same time they felt that the same situation existed all over the church and that doctrine was being threateneed by the same heresies everywhere. The epistle of Jude which is very short is entirely devoted to a conflict against heresy. It is purely negative in character. A caution is given without any account of sound doctrine and unsupported by any attempt to show the errors of those who were rejecting it. Like the author of the Pastorals and Ignatius Jude thinks it sufficient to denounce the heretics and vituperate against them; he thinks it useless to refute their doctrines. At the beginning of his letter Jude states that he felt pressed to write to his readers to exhort them to fight for the faith1 which had been delivered once and for all to the saints (3); the faith has been threatened by certain men who have insinuated themselves into the church and whose appearance was predicted beforehand. They are ungodly men turning the grace of God into lasciviousness and denying our only master and Lord Jesus Christ (4). He is referring therefore to antinomists.2 To prove how grave their sin is and with what severity God will one day judge them, Jude recalls how the rebels of the Old Testament were treated; the days of the wandering in the desert, the angels who joined the daughters of men,3 and lastly, the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah. The three cases book. The epistle of Jude seems to have been composed between 100 and 125 or even a little earlier. The second epistle of Peter can be dated approximately 125-150. It is impossible to make any precise guess where these two documents were composed. They may have originated from the same place. The epistle of Jude is offered as the work of the brother of James, and if this James is, as it seems, the same as James the Just, then it would be the work of the brother of Jesus mentioned in Mark vi. 3 and Matt. xiii. 55. It is difficult to think that the ascription can be anything else but spurious. Harnack (G.a.L. II, i, p. 468) revived a hypothesis of Hugo Grotius and conjectured that the words 'brother of James* were added at a later date. As for the second epistle of Peter it is impossible to suppose that it was composed by the apostle. 1 This word here as in the postoral epistles means doctrine. * It does not look as if to antinomianism is joined a christological heresy as it is not mentioned again. It would seem more natural to suppose that heretics deny their Lord through antinomianism. 8 Under the influence of the book of Enoch (x. 4-12; xii. 4 ff.; liv. 3-7) and the book of Jubilees (v. 6) the epistle says that the rebel angels were imprisoned in darkness to wait for the judgement. 419

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

quoted have to do with sexual shortcomings and in two of them angels are concerned. We have, therefore, reasons for thinking that the heretics justified moral laxity by some theological speculation which had to do with angels intervening. Possibly their argument was purely theoretical like that of the strong at Corinth. It is also said of them that claiming the authority of visions they pollute the flesh (8). They were therefore libertine gnostics who justified their attitude by visions. Jude accuses them of defying authority, which seems to mean that they rejected the teaching of the church which was covered by the authority of the Lord.1 They insult august names.2 This seems to mean some theory about the heavenly beings which was thought insulting to them. Jude may also have thought that the immorality of the heretics offended the angels who were charged to see that the law of God was observed. In face of their presumption Jude takes his cue from the Assumption of Moses and points to the moderation of the archangel Michael, who contending with the devil for the body of Moses did not dare to accuse him of blasphemy but was content to proclaim to him the judgement of God (9). Returning to the heretics who insult the angels, Jude observes that they speak evil of those things which they do not know as their knowledge is purely of physical things, resembling that of the beasts deprived of reason. For that reason they will perish in the same way as Cain, Balaam, and Korah did (10-11). The heretics are, what is a more concrete description, a spot, i.e. an offence at the agapes celebrated by the church,3 at which they feast without shame (12). This desecration of the eucharist resembles that against which Paul had to take action at Corinth. The heretics were not then separated from the church but shared in the common meals which served a's a framework for the eucharist properly so called. In the same sentence, however, the words 'feeding themselves* (eavrovs TrotjLtatVovrej), seem to show that they did not follow bishops and elders of the church, perhaps because they rejected even the conception of an order of clergy. This leads us to 1 The author of the Didache advises his readers to receive the man who teaches true doctrine as the Lord himself and says, * Where the Lord's nature is spoken of (17 Kvpiorrjs AoAeirai) there is he present* (iv. i). Jude possibly drawing inspiration from this idea only wants to say that the heretics reject sound doctrine. 2 I.e. the angels who remained faithful to their task. 3 In place of ayairans the manuscripts A.C. and some others have andrcus 'by their (A.a.: your) passions, which comes from 2 Peter ii. 13. The manuscripts 6. 424 have euo>x«us (banquets). 420

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think that the principle laid down by Ignatius that that eucharist alone is valid over which the bishop or his deputy presides had not yet been carried out (Sm. viii. i). Verses 12 and 13 give no proper description of the heretics but are full of invective against them comparing them to clouds carried about by the wind containing no rain1 and to trees, which even at the end of autumn bear no fruit. They are twice dead.2 Like the waves of the sea they foam out their own shame and show off their immorality without reserve. They are wandering stars3 for whom is prepared eternal darkness. The severity of this condemnation is defended by a prophecy of Enoch (i. 9; v. 4) who spoke of the Lord coming with ten thousands of his saints to judge sinners (14-15). The invective pursues its course without affording us any hints which would enable us to know what the positive characteristics of the heretics were. It is said that they murmur and are dissatisfied with their lot, which may mean that they consider the world to be evil because it was created by a demiurge or ruled not by God but by elementary Powers. This interpretation would give concrete meaning to the expression 'they insult august names' (8), but as we have such little evidence as to the theoretical nature of the heresy we cannot make any positive decision in this sense. Jude may have wished to say that the heretics were dissatisfied with the way in which things were going in the church and were criticising those who were in charge. Nothing concrete can be inferred from the description of the heretics as allowing themselves to be led away by their passions and having their mouth full of arrogant words with which they pay court to men to serve their own ends (16). In verses 17-19 Jude returns to the idea that the coming of the heretics has been foretold. He recalls the teaching of the apostles of whom he speaks in a solemn style befitting the past. They said4 that in the last times there will arise mockers who will be led by their 1

It has been suggested that this metaphor helps us to determine where the epistle originated but in addition to the fact that there are several places where a cloud deceives by evaporating without giving forth rain the metaphor could easily have been used in a different place from that where it originated. 2 This may mean either that after being saved by justification from the death to which their sins destined them, they became death's victims again through giving up the true doctrine or that after rising again for the judgement they would die 3the second death. This refers to the planets which, according to a myth fairly widespread in Judaism, had left the place which had been assigned to them (Enoch, xviii. 14 f.; xxi. 3; xc. 24. Theophilus of Antioch, Ad. Autol. ii. 15). 4 See Acts xx. 29 f.; i Timothy iv. i ff.; 2 Timothy iii. n ff.; Mark xiii. 6.

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impious passions, who will set up divisions and will divide men into two clashes, psychical or carnal, pneumatic or spiritual, and on the strength of this will claim that they are free from ethical rules. Jude takes up this distinction which he had just described as unlawful and uses an argument ad hominem to describe the psychic heretics as men who do not possess the spirit. Jude modified the traditional idea of inspiration in one important respect; he considers all individual inspiration to be vain and deceptive and reckons the collective inspiration possessed by the church alone to be valid. To claim the right to defend one's own personal ideas is to prove that one is only carnal.1 The last paragraph before the final doxology (20-23) contains the only positive exhortation to be addressed to the readers. They must build themselves up in their most holy faith, praying in the holy Spirit, keeping themselves in the love of God and looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life (20-21). What follows is obscure and we gain no light by supposing that the text is corrupt.2 The readers are exhorted to have pity on heretics and to try to save them by looking on them with pity yet maintaining a certain reserve, 'hating even the garment spoiled by the flesh', i.e. avoiding any compromise with their immorality. The epistle finishes with a beautiful and long doxology (24-25) which seems to reproduce a liturgical formula. The attempts which have been made to identify the heresies attacked by Jude with one or other of the gnostic systems of the second century may be considered to have proved futile. Their very diversity refutes them. The epistle was written before these systems came into being. In as much as the references to a christological heresy, an amoral antinomism, and angelogy are almost always connected together, we are led to think that Jude is dealing with only one heretical group. His ideas do not seem to have come from Judaism. The analogy which Jude draws between the heretics whom he is attacking and the rebels of the Old Testament is simply a comparison made for the purpose of proving that God's judgement awaits them.3 The 1 The second epistle of Peter condemns any personal interpretation of prophecy more explicitly. 8 Unless the obscurity of the text is explained by the fact that it refers to some phrase known to the readers. * The fact that according to the second epistle of Peter the heretics defended their ideas by means of a particular interpretation of the prophets gives us no right to infer that those whom the epistle of Jude is considering did the same. 422

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heretics justified their ideas by dreams and visions (8). When Jude reproaches them for having only animal and material knowledge (10) he must be giving a caricature of the way in which they justify their ideas. Doubtless they must have boasted that they possessed a supernatural gnosis which gave them the right to judge themselves free from all law. Jude reproaches them for allowing themselves to be guided by their passions and for letting their flesh be soiled (18). When he describes them as psychic who do not possess the Spirit he must be answering their claims and is calling in question their contention that they are inspired.1 The heretics without being formally separated from the church formed within its confines an opposition group.2 They do not seem to have been activated by a positive desire to proselytise. Jude seems to have considered them a danger in themselves, not from the conquests which they were trying to make. The epistle of Jude appears to have been written at a time when the appearance of heresy, at least in the community to which the author belonged, was still relatively speaking a novelty. The beginning of the epistle shows that its author found it necessary to intervene against heresy with such suddenness that he had to give up the project of a message in more general terms which would have treated of their common salvation (3) and would therefore have had a more positive character. Jude says that the arrival of heretics had been foretold to try and weaken the impression which their appearance had caused among his readers. It is also clear that the conflict with heresy had not been organised. The epistle does not even concentrate the attack on any particular point. Jude says that he is writing to enlist his readers in the fight for the defence of the faith, but he gives them no counsel or any practical suggestion as to what form the fight ought to take. An unexpected situation seems to have caught him somewhat by surprise and not to have given him time to consider how it ought to be faced. He denounces the errors of the heretics, tries to inspire his readers with horror at their ideas and conduct, but does not say how their doctrine can be effectively prevented from spreading. We must not, however, infer from this that the appearance of the heresy was altogether a novelty. Although the epistle gives us only

1 Possibly Jude like Peter means by individual inspiration, when he is attacking it, individualistic interpretation of the prophets and writings. 2 The fact that the epistle never envisages the heretics being brought back proves that the author did not suppose that his letter would be read by them. The same can be said of the second epistle of Peter.

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incomplete and insufficient evidence about it, its form is sufficiently clear to show that it had been in existence for some time. The only novelty in the situation may well have been that it had penetrated a community which had not been acquainted with it before.1 Jude's judgement on heresy is simple and plain. Those professing it are outside the true faith and destined to ultimate destruction. Only inconsistency prevents him from despairing altogether of their final salvation (22-23). We cannot describe or place the heresies visualised by Jude with any exactness, as the epistle shows no intention of refuting them and speaks of them only in general terms sufficient for its readers to know the subject and persons to whom it is referring. It would be unwise to take the accusations of immorality literally. It was the fashion in polemics against heretics to make mountains out of molehills. Sometimes they may have been well founded; certainly they were not always so. The accusations against the heretics can be classified under two or three principal headings, antinomianism, angelology, and perhaps christology, if the expressions, 'to deny the only master and Lord Jesus Christ' (4) and 'to despise dominion* (8), i.e. the teaching coming from Christ, are not just conventional phrases used to describe heresies. The description of Jesus Christ as 'only master' (fjiovov SecriroTrjit) does not allow us to think that it refers to a doctrine which in addition to Christ knew of other masters and other lords and thus would resemble the gnosticism at Colossae. In short, the heart of the heresy is not the worship of angels as at Colossae but blasphemy against them (8, 10). It might be connected with some theory which made the angels responsible for evil and sin. But blasphemy against angels might also be connected with antinomianism on the supposition that to speak evil of them was an offence, in virtue of the fact that the Jewish tradition associated them with the promulgation of the law on Sinai.2 The only kind of heresy which is beyond question is antinomianism. The immorality with which the heretics are reproached was 1 This interpretation is supported by the use of the word (they slipt in, insinuated themselves). It can mean either that they had recently entered the church or that their representatives had penetrated the churches in a district where they had not been previously represented. 2 The fact that the heretics seem to have invoked visions to justify their doctrine (8, 19) might lead to the inference that they claimed that the doctrines had been revealed to them by angels who had appeared to them. Jude would have considered that it was an outrage for them to suggest this.

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partly a product of their theories. We are in the presence of a form of antinomianism which was sometimes inferred from Pauline phrases, sometimes was proclaimed by Paul's disciples and sometimes by his enemies, who imputed it to him in order to attack and compromise him. It also resembles the kind dealt with in the first epistle of John (iii. 4 ff.). The only question which remains to be discussed is whether Jude is dealing with a theoretical form of antinomianism or a practical form which showed itself in the domain of sexual morality. Jude's thought certainly implies the second interpretation. The term aae'Ayewx which he uses (4), the reference to the angels who loved the daughters of men, the reference to Sodom and Gomorrah, and the expression 'they soil the flesh' leave no doubt on this point.1 It is unsatisfactory to interpret adultery and debauchery as merely allegorical terms for infidelity to God and the doctrine of the church, and as implying no particular type of heresy. But apart from the fact that antinomianism is definitely referred to it is impossible to grasp what heresy is being attacked in the epistle of Jude. The mass of the faithful do not seem to have entertained the same feelings as Jude towards the heretics. Otherwise he would not have thought it necessary to give them the serious warning contained in his epistle.2 Possibly Jude does not go so far as to demand the expulsion of the heretics from the church which he was in no way assured that he would secure because a good number of the faithful looked on them with indulgent or indifferent eyes. The second epistle of Peter does not show with any greater clearness than that of Jude for whom it was intended. Before he attacks the heretics Peter reminds his readers of what has been given to them which they must take care is not lost, altered, or in any way compromised. At all times, he whose faith does not bring forth fruit is a blind man who has forgotten that he once was purged 1

Although the evidence is rather indefinite and taken by itself would be insufficient, one might quote the comparison of the heretics to beasts without reason (10) and the statement that they allow themselves to be led away by their passions (16). In addition to this the accusation brought against them that they disgrace agapes by feasting at them without shame (12) cannot be considered proved. It resembles the case of certain Corinthians who became drunk at the celebration of the Lord's supper (i Cor. xi. 21), a statement which does not seem to have been taken literally (cf. E.P. pp. 343 ff.)- It might well be that in Jude's eyes the mere presence of heretics was sufficient to profane the supper. 2 Jude may have been led to describe the heretics in particularly sombre colours by the desire to make an impression on his readers.

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of his sins (i. 9). This introduction shows immediately that, while Jude's only concern was to inspire his readers with a horror of heresy, Peter does not feel that sufficient but considers that the life of faith calls, not for immobility, but for effort.2 He wants to remind his readers that it is necessary to persevere in the faith because a revelation of the Lord has taught him that the time of his departure is at hand.3 For the last time he seeks to recall his teaching which did not rest on imaginary fables but has been given by him, because he was the witness of the majesty of Christ at his transfiguration. To the authority of the revelation which he received on the holy mountain is added the sure revelation of prophecy. We must, however, take care that no prophecy of scripture is of any private interpretation (i. 12-21). This is a theory of prophecy to which I shall return when later on I shall be speaking of Paul's epistles. The polemic against heresy begins properly in chapter ii in which are found with very little alteration the substance and phrases of the epistle of Jude. The chapter opens by comparing heretics to the rebels of the Old Testament (ii. 1-3). God did not spare the rebel angels but shut them in dark caves where they await the judgement (ii. 4).* He condemned the ancient world at the time of the flood, when he saved only Noah (with seven other persons) as a herald of righteousness (ii. 5).5 By this God showed that he would not let the righteous die with the sinners, which is also proved by the fact that Lot did not perish with the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah (ii. 6-8). Terrible punishments await those who have gone after the flesh with foul covetousness and have despised the lordship of Christ. He is referring to antinomians who reject the teaching of the Lord as professed by the church. The parallelism with the epistle of Jude is complete but the last stroke made by Jude to describe the heretics, 'they despise the dignities' is amplified in the second epistle of Peter. They are described as reckless without shame who do not tremble before dignities but speak evil of them (ii. 6-10) although the angels 1

A similar idea is expressed in i Peter iii. 21 where baptism is described as a pledge to a holy life. See E.P., p. 295 ff. 1 We have here a fact which tells in favour of the priority of Jude as it is easier to conceive of an amplification of thought than of its contraction. * The way in which he mentions impending departure does not suggest the idea of martyrdom. 4 This idea is present in the epistle of Jude but in a more developed form and is supported by a quotation from the book of Enoch. The suppression of this quotation makes the sentence somewhat obscure. * This may be due to the influence of i Peter iii. 20. 426

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themselves did not dare to bring railing accusations before the Lord1 (ii). As in Jude, the heretics are described as animals without reason living a completely physical life destined to destruction. There follows a description of their life which is like an indictment. They will receive the just reward for their sin because they please themselves in their pleasures; they are soiled and corrupt, they gorge themselves in their lusts (ob-arai?).2 We have here a curious variation from the text of Jude who spoke of the scandal of heretics being present at the agapes celebrated by the church. In the interval between the two epistles the situation appears to have changed. The heretics have ceased to participate in the eucharistic reunions unless their participation did not give Peter so much pain and therefore he altered the words to avoid mentioning it. The parallelism of the two texts leaves no doubt that Peter depends on Jude. Participation in the supper is a subsidiary offence in Peter's eyes as heretics are reproached for feasting, for having their eyes set on an an adulteress, for not ceasing from sin, and for offering a bait to hesitating souls. This last tray shows that the situation had changed in another respect. Jude feared the wicked example of the heretics but does not seem to anticipate any propaganda from them. Heresy therefore had grown strong in the interval and had striven to become master of the situation. After a series of invectives which yield nothing in the way of accurate information (ii. 13-iy),3 it is said that the heretics are destined for darkness because they preach futile sermons, and stirring up the carnal passions, seduce people who are almost become victims of their errors, i.e. converted. Slaves of the flesh, they promise liberty (ii. 17-19). Peter is therefore concerned with heretical propaganda which was getting hold of new converts not without success. The conclusion emphasises the unfortunate condition of those who had once escaped the pollutions 1

This phrase of Peter's is somewhat obscure. A comparison with the parallel text in Jude makes it clear: the obscurity is shown to be due to the suppression by Peter of an implicit reference to the Assumption of Moses because it was not a canonical book. 2 Instead of andrcus which is the reading of the majority of manuscripts B. and some others have ayairais which is the original reading in Jude 12. The manuscript 1739 and a few minuscules have ayvoicus (in their ignorance). 8 In ii. 17, the heretics are compared to dried up springs and clouds evaporated by the storm. The simile of the clouds which evaporate without giving forth rain as used by Jude is therefore divided into two, a proof that Peter did not understand it, doubtless because he lived in a district which was not so wet as where Jude lived. This is another indication that 2 Peter depends on Jude.

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of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and are now allowing themselves to be entangled afresh, and are falling into a worse state than that which they left at the beginning. It would be better for them never to have known the way of righteousness. They are like the dog who turns to his own vomit again and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire (ii. 20-22). This conclusion is an amplification of the 'twice dead* of Jude 12. It also shows itself to have been influenced by the doctrine of the epistle to the Hebrews on the impossibility of the second repentance. After the author has thus vituperated against the heretics he invites his readers to remain loyal to the true teaching. He reminds them of his first letter which was to awaken in them a clear sense of the truth1 and he also recollects the words of the prophets and the commandments of the apostles of the Lord and Saviour (iii. 1-2). The first thing to know, says Peter, is that in the last days mockers will appear who will walk after their own lusts and who, this being taken for granted, will defy the righteousness of God. 'And saying, "Where is the promise of his coming?", for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation' (iii. 4). The heretics therefore denied the parousia and with it the judgement: they made fun of the teaching of the church on this subject and of the disappointment facts had caused them.2 This is not an isolated instance. The first epistle of Clement of Rome (xxiii. 3-4) and the second (xi. 2-4) quote a passage from a writing replying to the same criticism of the prediction of the final cataclysm. Did this criticism of eschatological doctrine come from Jews or from Christian heretics? One hesitates to answer as the treatise Sanhedrin (996) contains a polemic against this kind of argument. To this criticism Peter replies that the critics have forgotten that God once before destroyed the world by water and now he is going to destroy it by fire and in this way punish the impious (iii. 5-7). 1 There is no doubt that he is alluding to the first epistle of Peter, although it is not very accurately described. Zahn's theory (Einl. II, p. 95) which suggests that it is referring to another letter written by the apostle Peter and addressed to the Jewish Christians of Palestine is only a desperate hypothesis to save at all costs the authenticity of 2 Peter. 2 Windisch (Kath. Br., p. 191) justly remarks that only after the first generation had disappeared can it be supposed that there could be any real criticism of the belief in the parousia in the form envisaged in 2 Peter. He considers this sufficient evidence in itself to rule out the authenticity of the epistle. 428

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They forget that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, which means that as man cannot appreciate the length of time, he cannot say that the prophecies have not been fulfilled. He adds that if God appears to have delayed, it is because he is long suffering and is giving sinners time to repent. He ends by stating that the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The whole world will then disappear; the faithful must therefore lead a holy life and be irreproachable in their conduct in order to hasten on the coming of the day of the Lord who will create new heavens and a new earth which will be a habitation of righteousness. While they wait they must live in peace, counting that if the Lord shows patience it is an aid to salvation (iii. 8-15). This is what the beloved brother Paul has also taught in his letters in which some things are difficult to understand, which men who are unlearned and restless twist into a wrong sense, as they do with the other scriptures to their own destruction (iii. I56-I6).1 In principle, therefore, Peter recognised the authority of the epistles of Paul just as further back he recognised that of the prophets. But he notices that they contain obscurities. In the same way he had said that prophecy is like a torch giving light in an obscure place (i. 19) which consequently can only give an uncertain light. He is therefore concerned by the use which the heretics made both of Pauline phrases and of certain texts from the prophets. It also showed that it was necessary to put his readers on their guard against what he considered to be a reckless way of using the prophecies and the epistles. He thus protests against a personal interpretation of the epistles in the same way as he had previously protested against a personal interpretation of prophecies (i. 20-21). Only the interpretation given by the church in conformity with its own teaching is valid. The conclusion of the epistle is simple. The readers duly warned and taught in advance of the appearance of heresy must watch that 1

Zahn (Einl. ii. 97 ff.) remarks that Peter is speaking of two things, (a) a letter received by his readers from Paul which may be one of those in our possession or may be one which has been lost and (b) other letters which must be reckoned to have been already collected into a corpus. This seems to be what the text implies, but it leaves a problem which Zahn does not even examine. Do we know if this actually was the situation? If 2 Peter is admitted to be unauthentic, it must be thought that the writer is thinking of Paul's letters generally, having the same idea as expressed in the Muratorian canon (lines 56-59) that what Paul writes to one church is addressed to all. There is no evidence which allows us to think that the author of 2 Peter knew of other letters besides those which figure in the corpus paulinum.

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they do not allow themselves to be seduced but must grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ (iii. 17-18). The few differences to be found between the epistles of Jude and Peter are not so wide as to contradict each other and may be explained in two different ways which, however, do not conflict. Peter may have attacked heresy with greater precision than Jude did or he may have had to deal with a form of heresy which had developed to a greater extent, was more precise in form and more active than that with which Jude had had to deal.1 At the time when the epistle of Peter was written the heretics seem to have become more sharply distinct from the church than when the epistle of Jude was written. They also have begun to defend their doctrines by prophecy and by Paul's epistles. Of this there is no trace in the epistle of Jude. The criticism of the church's teaching on the ground that the parousia is delayed is the only factor to be noted in the epistle of Peter which cannot be regarded as entirely inherent in the situation depicted in the epistle of Jude. Both epistles judge heresy in the same way. Both of them consider it to be a danger, both to the church in general and to each individual believer. But Jude thinks it sufficient to put the faithful on their guard and to warn them of the danger, while Peter considers it necessary to reply to the heretics by a discussion of their doctrines and producing at least the outline of a refutation. He also is emphatic that they must remain loyal to the traditional doctrine, the value of which he underlines by emphasising the authority of the revelations on which the apostolic teaching rests, particularly those received by Peter illustrating it. It may be also that the differences between the two polemics are due to differences in the temperaments of the two authors. II.—CONCLUSION

The evidence which I have tried to collect together on the first phase of the conflict between sound doctrine and heresy is too disparate in character and on most points too compressed for one to think of composing the history of heresy in the last quarter of the first century and the first quarter of the second. It offers a series of contrasts: first of all a contrast between the 1 The fact that the polemic of 2 Peter is more detailed is another sign that Jude was composed earlier.

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attitude towards heresy of those who de facto or de jure were the leaders of the church and that of the mass of the faithful. The former were acutely conscious of the pernicious character of heresies and made great efforts to keep those who were committed to their charge free from their influence. There is also a contrast between the way in which heretics were spoken of and the way in which they were treated. The harshest judgements and most categorical condemnations are pronounced against them; vehement invective is showered upon them; but their most determined enemies fail to demand that they should be expelled from the church. It was certainly not liberalism or a love of toleration which led the champions of sound doctrine to take up this attitude. A certain measure of moderation is imposed upon them by their knowledge that they could not take strong measures because the church in general would not agree if they were suggested or asked for. With Ignatius new tactics appeared; centres of resistance against heresy were formed around those bishops who were loyal to the traditional doctrine, and in these alone, it was maintained, the true church existed. 'There, where Jesus is', Ignatius writes, 'there is the catholic church', but he adds, 'Wherever the bishop appears, let the congregation be present' (Smyrn. viii. 2), which means that the church exists only so far as it is grouped round its bishop.1 In this way Ignatius does not demand that heretics should be excluded, which he would not have been granted but tries to concentrate the church into groups which were free from their influence. The history of heresy shows another contrast. It is shown as the negation of truth; yet it was first attacked in the realm of discipline more than in that of doctrine. Theological argument, properly so called, scarcely played any part before the middle of the second century. Heretics were at first condemned, not on account of their ideas but because their ideas were not within the framework of the traditional formulae. Men were less concerned to show that heretics were thinking evil than—what was plainly much easier—to prove that they were not holding to the traditional formulae. Although the evidence at our disposal does not allow us to say so with complete certainty, it is neither impossible nor improbable 1 For that reason he adds that neither baptism nor a celebration of the agape is allowed without the bishop. At the beginning of the chapter he commanded them to follow the bishop as Jesus Christ had followed the Father and the presbytery as if it were the apostles.

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that the heretics at times showed more originality and vigour in their ideas than the exponents of sound doctrine. And perhaps, paradoxical as it may seem, just for that reason sound doctrine prevailed in the end. It offered ideas, which were collectively expressed in phrases to which assent could be given without there being any necessity for personal reconsideration of their meaning. They thus lent themselves to a mass of opinion being formed which could withstand heresy in its various and diverse forms.

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CHAPTER IX

Towards Early Catholicism ONLY in a very relative sense can it be said that the travails and trials of early Christianity to find intellectual expression gave birth to Johannine theology on the one hand and the precatholicism of Clement of Rome on the other. In spite of this, the end of the first century marked a very important stage in the process of development which ended in the constitution of a stable form of doctrine. Just about the time John and Clement's ideas were taking shape, if we may use the phrase in preference to that of finding expression, those who were coming to exercise powers of direction in the church began to feel with more force than had ever been felt before, that the sound doctrinal tradition must be defended against the pernicious innovations of the heretics. The conflicts with them which assumed a clear-cut form with the Book to the Seven Churches, the Pastoral epistles, the first epistle of John, and later on with the epistles of Ignatius, that of Jude and 2 Peter had several consequences. First of all, it resulted in changing not only the general attitude of Christian thought but the very nature of its function, its purpose no longer being to express the content of the faith but to give such a presentation of the traditional doctrine as would reveal its contents in a form which rendered them accessible and made them most easy to assimilate. At the same time it made the tradition challenge heresy encasing it with the whole armoury of apologetic. Once the battle was set between sound doctrine and heresy, the Christian thinker of the second century, even when his thought showed more originality, was much less conscious than in the first century of the personal nature of his work, i.e. he believed that he was not presenting his own faith and thought but the faith and thought of the church. In this way doctrine became more and more the expression of an objective truth. Yet, while on the one hand the conflict with heresy should have, it seems, reduced the part played by the theologian as a personal 28 433

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thinker it tended rather to strengthen it, because, as we have already seen, the conflict was taken in hand by a group of men who were not swayed by the convictions belonging to the mass of the faithful who gave them hardly any support at all. The development of Christian thought thus became the work of a class of theologians who, for all practical purposes, were almost completely identified with the clergy as the epistle of Clement of Rome seems to show. A comparison between Christian thought about the year 100 and Christian thought at the end of the second century as expressed in the early Catholicism of Tertullian and Irenaeus shows certain differences between them which allow us to see the significance and nature of the work of the second century. < First of all, it is to be noticed that while both Johanninism and the thought of Clement of Rome were only local forms of Christianity, at the end of the second century Christian theology had become catholic in the true sense of the word, i.e. universal. This is the result of a process of concentration, conjunction, unification, and synthesis among the differing types of Christianity, which were commingling and interpenetrating diverse communities. But a new factor came into play in the second century. That was a more explicit and thought-out conviction that sound doctrine was one and homogeneous in contrast to the varying forms of heresy. Very typical in this respect is the attitude of Hegesippus, who took a long voyage towards the middle of the second century to assure himself that the same doctrine was taught in all the churches which he visited and that its immutability was assured from one age to another by a regular succession of bishops.1 In practice unification was much favoured by the fact that the church of Rome both on account of its importance and activity as well as* because it was the church of the capital of the empire attracted to itself Christians from every quarter. In particular, men such as Justin Martyr or Irenaeus, who either were born in Asia or converted there, came to Rome or the West and introduced into Roman theology doctrinal and religious elements from Johanninism, which spiritually enriched Western Christianity and so assimilated it to Eastern Christianity. In addition an important change took place in the second century in the form in which doctrine was expressed. The formulae grew more explicit and it was equipped with a complete armoury of apologetic. In the interval the dangers from heresy to which traditional doctrine was liable had grown clearer first through the growth 1 Hegesippus, in Eusebius, H.e. iv. 22, 1-2. 434

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of Marcionitism and gnosticism and later through the growth of montanism, all of which endangered both the traditions and outlook of the church. If they had triumphed Christianity would not only have assumed a different form from that which it had had up to then and was destined to keep, but a new religion would have been substituted in place of the old. The principal weapons in the defensive armoury of the traditional doctrine were the strengthening of the ecclesiastical organisation and especially of the authority of bishops, the increasing part played by credal confession, but above all, the formation of the idea of a sacred scripture of the New Covenant and the first efforts at determining its essential context. This took place, not in the period of creative activity but in that of organisation and consolidation. It is not therefore within our province to follow its course but a very brief description of its essential characteristics is not out of place since it sprang from forces which in the first century determined what form Christian doctrine took, while the result of it was to stabilise and consolidate the ensuing doctrines.

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PART FIVE

The Reactions Provoked by the Preaching of the Gospel

CHAPTER I

The Problem I.—THE FEELINGS OF THE P R I M I T I V E CHURCH TOWARDS JUDAISM

As the inheritor of Judaism and like it the beneficiary of the divine promise and covenant, Christianity was from the first opposed to every form of Greco-Roman paganism which, to use the phrase of the epistle to the Ephesians, left men 'strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world* (ii. 12). While nascent Christianity was closely bound up with Judaism and had no thought of following Marcion and repudiating its heritage, it was not identical with it. Far from that, from the very beginning it felt very strongly that compared with Judaism it offered something absolutely new, that it was a continuation of Judaism but had passed beyond it by putting reality itself in place of image and prophecy.1 Christianity did not regard itself as a religion which was hostile to Jews or Gentiles and indifferent to them. On the contrary, it possessed the conviction that it was the religion—and the only religion—which could bring salvation to both of them. For some time at any rate, it cherished the hope that it would see the whole Jewish people as a body accept its message and rally round it. When it had to admit that it had been deceived on this point it could scarcely resign itself to the fact, but tried with the apostle Paul to console itself with the hope that Israel would only remain incredulous for a period or, in accordance with the same apostle's suggestion, made a distinction between the spiritual Israel made up of those who believed in Christ and the empirical Israel consisting of the descendants of Abraham, saying that it was not the latter but the former who were the people of God and seeing in the latter only a synagogue of Satan (Rev. ii. 9). 1 Yet in the Jewish environment of Palestine Christianity retained Jewish forms of worship and social life to such an extent that any sense of originality was almost lost.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 2.—THE FEELINGS OF THE CHURCH TOWARDS THE EMPIRE AND THE GENTILE WORLD

The infant church might easily from the start have felt itself separated from the Gentiles by the fact that the whole.structure of civil society and the empire was permeated and impregnated with paganism. But this went for nothing and the idea that Gentiles could be summoned to salvation and consequently admitted into the church does not appear to have been called in question.1 The pagan character of the ancient world failed to create an insuperable barrier between itself and Christianity, partly, perhaps, because the Jewish communities which existed everywhere in the Greco-Roman world as they spread outwards and created more or less merely formal ties between themselves and the world outside, in practice if not in theory, paved the way for the idea of the civil society being divorced from the religious society. At any rate they habituated men to the idea that even within the framework of an idolatrous society it was possible to worship the true God and to gain souls for Him. But in addition in the eyes of primitive Christianity the pagan society and the Roman empire were part of this present world in which the church was called upon to live and to which consequently it would be best for it to accommodate itself, while at the same time it preserved its own essential spirit and safeguarded its own character until the time came when God would destroy it to establish his kingdom. Because the Roman empire was therefore a reality which God allowed to exist at least for the time being, the infant church not only showed itself ready to accept Gentiles, who individually were ready to come to it, but desired an understanding and modus vivendi with pagan society so far as might be possible while it remained strictly loyal to its own principles. Some significant and essential points must be recalled here. First must be noted the philo-Roman tendency of the story of the passion, which grows more accentuated as we pass from Mark to John2 and beyond. The four evangelists depict Pilate resisting 1 The only question which caused conflict between Jewish and Gentile Christians was on what terms Gentiles could be admitted into the church. 2 On this point see my articles: 'Les Chretiens et PEmpire remain a P6poque du Nouveau Testament', Paris, 1908; *Juifs et Romans dans Phistoire de la passion', R.h.r., 1910, LXII, pp. 165-182, 296-322, Life of Jesus, pp. 464 ff. The tendency to make the Jews responsible and free the Romans of responsibility is further

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THE PROBLEM

as far as he could the pressure which the crowd, instigated by their leaders, were bringing to bear upon him to ratify the condemnation of Jesus pronounced by the Sanhedrin. After he had proclaimed, in the clearest and most explicit terms, Jesus' innocence and tried to save him by giving him the advantage of the favour which it was always customary for him to grant at the feast of the passover, he is represented to have complied in the end only because it was in fact impossible for him to do anything else.1 This is all the more characteristic because in reality the actual course of events was quite different. Whatever may have been the tricks and manoeuvres to which the Jews resorted in order to compel Pilate to intervene against Jesus, one thing is certain; Jesus was tried under Roman jurisdiction, as is proved by the penalty which was imposed upon him and the fact that he was executed by the procurator's soldiers.2 In the gospel tradition, therefore, facts have undergone a very distinct transposition. This was not the result of the accidents and imperfections of human memory. Unconsciously perhaps it reflects certain conceptions and concerns, which we may well hesitate to define. The more responsibility is placed upon one of the groups involved in the trial the lighter becomes that of the other. When we study the tradition do we find that it tends to accentuate the responsibility of the Jews or to diminish that of the Romans? In other words, is the tradition to be described as philo-Roman or antiJewish? The answer seems as if it must be both. But so far as the tradition can be described as philo-Roman another question remains. Was the part played by the Romans in Jesus' trial minimised, as we saw it was, out of sympathy for Pilate and the empire which he represented? It might have been done for quite different reasons. The one whom Christians presented to the world as the Son of God, Lord and Saviour, had been condemned by a Roman magistrate to an infamous punishment. The difficulty created by this fact for the preaching of the gospel among the subjects of the empire must not be underestimated. The scandal could accentuated in the later tradition. For instance, in the gospel of Peter it is not Pilate but Herod who condemns Jesus and sentences him to death. While Pilate washes his hands neither Herod nor the Jewish leaders follow his example (1-2). 1 V. de J.y pp. 360 fT. and Life of Jesus, pp. 466 fF. 2 The procurator did not, as has sometimes been thought, ratify a sentence which had been passed by the Sanhedrin but could not be executed without the approval of the Roman governor. If this had been done Jesus would have been given a Jewish punishment (strangulation or stoning) and not a Roman punishment. (Cf. V. dej.y pp. 392 f. and Life of Jesus, pp. 471 f.) 44I

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

not be suppressed. But in order to water it down the explanation was put out that the magistrate was placed in such a situation that, while he could not refrain from pronouncing a verdict of guilty, nevertheless on several occasions he publicly proclaimed the innocence of the man whom he had vainly tried to defend against his enemies. The idea cannot be altogether ruled out that, out of the growing tendency of the tradition to exculpate the Romans from any responsibility for the death of Jesus, emerged that anti-semitism which after 70 became an explicit and pronounced feature of the church's tradition. Furthermore, we cannot help but think that it was prompted by the desire to lessen one of the difficulties which faced the preaching of the gospel in the Roman world. There seems to have been a close connection between Christian antisemitism and the distinctly loyal attitude towards Rome of the first generation of Hellenistic Christians. There also seems to have been other and more profound reasons for them both. Jesus himself seems to have taken this attitude as is shown both by his opposition to political Messianism and his reply to the Pharisees when they asked him about the tribute money (Mark xii. 13-17 and par.). The meaning of his reply must not be misunderstood. 'Render to Caesar the things which are Caesar's' must not be separated from 'Render to God the things which are God's'. Caesar and God are not put on the same level. Caesar belongs to a world which is doomed to disappear; God is eternal. Caesar's legitimate authority only holds sway as long as the present world lasts.1 Significant evidence for the loyal sentiments of the first generation of Christians towards Rome is provided by the teaching given in Romans xiii. i-i7.2 Paul writes, 'Let every soul be subject 1 H. J. Holtzmarm, Die Neue Testament und der romische Stoat, Strasburg, 1892, pp. 12 f. 2 Loisy (Remarques sur la litterature epistolaire du Nouveau Testament, pp. 30 f.) maintains that these instructions were interpolated later. The two reasons which he gives for this suggestion do not appear convincing. It is true that the instructions are not logically connected with what precedes or with what follows, but it is a peculiar characteristic of the hortatory parts of the New Testament that they are not logically developed out of preceding matter but are simply placed side by side with other matter without any connection. Cf. M. Dibelius, 'Rom und die Christen im ersten Jahrhundert', S.H.A., 1941, 42, 2, pp. 7-8. The other reason given by Loisy is that he reckons the instructions to be an anachronism. But it is just the time when we can think it most likely for them to have been given, i.e. before the conflict between church and empire became acute. Positive proof that the instructions are authentic seems to emerge from considerations which I have to put forward in reference to a passage in the second epistle to the Thessalonians.

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THE PROBLEM

to the higher powers. For there is no power but of God:1 the powers that be are ordained of God. Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation. For rulers are not a terror to good works but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same: For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil. Wherefore ye must needs be subject not only for wrath2 but also for conscience sake. For for this cause pay ye tribute also: for they are God's ministers, attending continually upon this very thing. Render therefore to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour.' Among other reasons for advising submission to the established authorities Paul may have been moved by opportunism. To submit is the surest means of living in peace. But this is only a secondary consideration; the underlying reason why the apostle asks for obedience is religious, viz. that the constituted authorities have been set up by God and therefore to oppose them is to act against the will of God. It may be difficult to suppose that Paul was inspired with such political loyalty, when it is recollected that at the time when he was writing to the Romans he had just experienced particularly, in Macedonia,3 the suspicion and ill-will with which the Roman authorities looked on the preaching of the gospel. The paradox may be explained by the fact that Paul felt that he was already living in the last days when the elect were doomed to be persecuted.4 There is one passage which shows how Paul was able to combine the idea that submission to the authorities is necessary with the idea that both the world which they rule and the authorities themselves are subject to Powers destined to perish because they are in 1 Dibelius (R.u.d. Chr., p. 7) rightly sets aside the hypothesis which he had previously maintained (Geisterwelt, p. 2000) that the passage is not referring to political authorities but to transcendent demonic powers. This interpretation has been defended by G. Dehn ('Engel und Obrigkeit', in Theol. Aufs., f. K. Earth, Munich, 1936, pp. 90 fl.) and O. Cullmann (Konigsherrshaft Christi und Kirche im Neuen Testament, Zollikon, 1941) and has been refuted by G. Kittel (Christus und Imperator, Stuttgart, Berlin, 1939, pp. 48-54). * I.e. through fear of punishment. 4 * See pp. 475 ff. Dibelius, R.u.d. Chr., pp. 10 f.

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

revolt against God (i Cor. ii. 8). The passage belongs to the instructions in 2 Thessalonians ii. 1-12 where Paul is trying to calm the feverish impatience of his readers who have been thrown into great agitation by the thought that the parousia is almost imminent. He teaches them that it cannot appear 'except there come a falling away first, and that man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition;1 who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called God, or that is worshipped; so that he be as God sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself as he is God.' Recalling the oral teaching which he had given, Paul adds, 'And now ye know what withholdeth2 that he might be revealed in his time.3 For the mystery of iniquity doth already work: only he who now letteth will let,4 until he be taken out of the way. And then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming: even him5 whose coming is after the workings of Satan with all power and signs and lying wonders,6 and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish; because they received not the love of the truth, that they might be saved. And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie that they all might be condemned who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.' What is this preventive power which intervenes to prevent a premature manifestation of Antichrist and the resulting destruction of the world before what God considers the appropriate time ? Before trying to ,reply to this question we must first take account of the reason why it was necessary that there should not be a premature manifestation of Antichrist. It is this. God's purpose and end first in creation and then in redemption is to create a people who will render to him the worship due to him. This would not be attained if the present world were destroyed before the Messianic people had been recruited from present humanity and formed of those who receive the call to salvation. 1

This refers to Antichrist although the word is not used by the apostle. ro Karexov. The term used is a neuter. 8 I.e. at the time fixed by God in his design. 4 o jcaTexcov. The term here used is masculine. 8 I.e. the parousia of the iniquitous one. 6 I.e. not by counterfeit miracles which might be clever conjuring tricks but by miracles caused by a transcendent power, i.e. Satan which will be done to persuade men to give their loyalty to lying doctrines which can only bring them to death. 2

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THE PROBLEM

We know from various passages, particularly from the synoptic apocalypse (Mark xiii. 5-8 and par.) that one of the recurring themes referring to the happenings at the end and to the signs heralding the parousia was the idea that the return of the Lord would be preceded by revolts, civil and national wars. Nations will be drawn up against nations, and kingdoms against kingdoms. What compelled nations in the first century to swallow their prejudices and to refrain from going to war with each other was the empire which made itself felt in the whole civilised world. The empire is what Paul has in mind when he speaks of the power which is preventing a premature manifestation of Antichrist.1 We then understand how he can attribute a providential function to the empire, although it belongs to a world doomed to disappear because it is bound to Satan and is ruled by Rulers who are in revolt against God. Its providential function is only provisional in character. It lies only in the present world, but, as long as it lasts, the empire has a part to play in the accomplishment of God's design and to rebel against it is to rebel against God himself. Paul's loyalty springs neither from resignation nor from opportunism; he is loyal from principle and perfectly sincere in his professions. But his loyalty remains provisional in nature because in his eyes the interests of the empire and its own ends have only passing value. Nothing was more foreign to the apostle's mind than the conception of a Christian empire or an imperial church. Church and empire not only belong to different levels of life; they belong to worlds opposed to each other, the empire belonging to the present world while the church is a reality in the world to come and in the present world a prophetic foretaste of what is to come. Paul then could have no concern for the empire's maintenance and existence or want to transform it so as to bring it into harmony with the gospel. He could only see it as a missionary field offering nothing except opportunities for winning souls for 1 This interpretation affords us a complete understanding why Paul alternates between the masculine and the neuter. He uses the neuter when he is thinking of the empire and the masculine when he is thinking of the emperor. Tertullian (Apologeticum, 32; Ad Scapulam, 2; De carnis resurrectione, 24) was the first author to recognise Karfyoov to be the Roman empire. Following others Dibelius (R.u.d. Chr., pp. 12 ff.) rules out this interpretation and finds in Karex^v only a rather vague traditional apocalyptic idea. What seemed to him to justify this opinion is the parallel between the idea of KO.T€XV and that of Antichrist. The parallel is beyond question; but Paul borrowed the idea of the /carexwv from the tradition and had to give it a new interpretation making it signify a distinct object of his thought.

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Christ. He asked nothing of the empire except to allow the little Christian communities to grow and live in peace. He was ready to comply with all its demands provided they did not conflict with what belonged only to God. 3.—THE ATTITUDE OF JUDAISM TOWARDS THE CHURCH

During the first period which lasted until 70 the attitude of Judaism towards Christianity was not uniform. It depended whether it was that kind of Christianity which remained within the ecclesiastical and ritual framework of Judaism and continued to observe the law or the other kinds, such as those of Stephen and Paul, which had cut themselves free from Judaism. In respect of the former, Judaism was on the whole extremely tolerant. It considered it to be a somewhat peculiar sect, not exactly resembling the large parties of the Pharisees and the Saducees, but more like the somewhat more eccentric groups such as the Essenes or the disciples of the hermit Banus. Towards the other kinds of Christianity it showed systematic hostility and used all the means at its disposal, both direct and indirect, to exterminate them. After 70 the situation changed. Under the blows of national catastrophe Judaism recoiled upon itself, identified itself with Pharisaism, and became radically hostile to anything which did not conform and rejected alike both the legalistic and antilegalist forms of Christianity. A definite cleavage occurred between Judaism and Christianity but the two opposing groups still remembered their common origin. They did not lose interest in each other but tried to recruit members from one another. They were thus compelled to have men who were expert in this kind of propaganda. The argument which lasted for a long time between Jews and Christians has left echoes, first in the synoptic gospels and in the book of the Acts, and later in a more distinct form in the Fourth Gospel and at a rather later period in Justin Martyr's dialogue with the Jew Tryphon. Force of circumstances confined the conflict between Judaism and Christianity to the realm of ideas, as neither party had any direct means of action at its disposal. Justin expresses the feeling of Christians that they were protected against Jewish hatred by the authority of Rome when he says to Tryphon, 'You have not the power to lay hands upon us, thanks to those who are at present our rulers, but every time you could you have done so'.1 1

Justin, Dial., 16, 14. 446

THE PROBLEM

The year 70 marks the end of the period after which there could remain no illusion that Christianity could develop and live within the framework of Judaism. But it was a little before this that Paul's trial before a Roman magistrate and the massacres of Christians following the fire at Rome in 64 dispelled any hope that a modus vivendi could be attained between the church and the empire. What caused the hopes entertained by the first generation of Christians to evaporate? What resulted from the fact that the church found itself in opposition both to Judaism and the empire? These are the questions which must now be examined. The church found that it had to defend itself against two adversaries at the same time, (i) Judaism and (2) Greco-Roman paganism represented by the empire. But this did not mean, as might at first be thought, that it was engaged in two separate conflicts with each of them independently of one another, because Christianity had contacts with both of them. In actual fact, both the hostile parties with whom Christianity came into conflict had much closer relations with each other than might at first sight be supposed. For a long time the Roman authorities and public opinion confused the Christians with the Jews and only considered the differences between them to be divergent interpretations of the law which were only of significance within the Jewish community. This mistake so far as it was one—for after all Christianity is in one sense a form of Judaism—was to the advantage of the Christians, as it enabled them in the first generation, in fact until the fire at Rome in 64, with a few exceptions to enjoy the privileged position of Judaism in the empire as a recognised religio licita.1 The representatives of Judaism did their best to relieve the confusion. They certainly did not do it because they wanted to injure the church; but we must not rule out the idea that they may have wished to free Judaism from developments which they saw were taking hold of the infant church and which they could foresee would lead one day to open conflict with the empire. They considered that it would be best for them to avoid this conflict in advance if they did not wish to suffer from it.' Judaism was able to obtain and keep a privileged position in the empire because it was a national religion. The Roman authorities, of course, in the end recognised that Christianity was not a national religion and that, although it had some close affinities with Judaism, it had not the same claims to a privileged position 1 The term religio licita which it is convenient to use has no judicial official character. Tertullian (Apologeticum, 21, i) seems to have been the first to use it.

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in the empire, but it is an undoubted fact that Jewish manoeuvres hastened the time when the Roman authorities became conscious of this. As we shall see further on, the imperial authority resolved to take action against the church at the instigation of Jews. In this way the Jewish and Roman opposition to the church was closely connected. The Jewish campaign which was undertaken to repudiate any connection with Christianity was what showed that it could have no legal status in the empire, that it was fixed on the margin of society so that it was left without any protection against the ill-will and hostility of public opinion, which hardly had any acquaintance with Christianity and perhaps, because Christians enveloped their meetings for worship with secrecy to prevent their being profaned,1 was ready to believe the direct calumnies which were spread abroad about them.2 Thus the opposition of the Jews and the Romans to Christianity was inspired by different motives and used different means of action but it was closely connected. It must therefore be considered as one. 4.—THE POSITION OF CHRISTIANITY IN THE EMPIRE. PUBLIC OPINION

In the title to this part of my work I have avoided using the term 'persecutions' and have used the less accurate term 'reactions provoked by the preaching of the gospel'. The word 'persecutions' in the proper sense of the word refers to official, legal, judicial or administrative measures taken for the purpose of thwarting the development of Christianity and even of destroying it. Most historians of the persecutions take the word in this sense and assume that they began with the systematic measures which were taken against the Christians in 64 after the fire at Rome. For instance, that excellent historian of the early church, Gustav Kruger, writes, 'The history of persecutions begins with those which were taken against the Christians under Nero'.3 Nero's victims were massacred 1 At least those at which the supper of the Lord was celebrated. We know from i Cor. xiv. 23 f. that passers by and curious folk could be present at the Christian assemblies at Corinth. This may have been peculiar to Corinth or perhaps the custom may have been modified. 2 See Dom Leclercq, art. 'Accusations centre les Chretiens', D.A.C.L., I, cols. 265-307. 3 G. Kruger, art. 'Imperium romanum', JR.G.G. Ill, col. 201. We have only quoted his judgement as a sample. A whole series of judgements similar to this might be added.

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not because they were Christians but because from what was said of them as Christians they were judged to be responsible for the fire at Rome. We cannot find a series of systematic measures undertaken expressly for the purpose of extirpating Christianity until we come to the persecution of Decius (249-251). If we study what happened under Nero—and the same applies to the whole history of persecutions—we find that measures would certainly have never been taken against the Christians or would have been ineffectual if public opinion had not been sympathetic towards them and had asked for them. It follows therefore, that the judicial and administrative measures which were taken against the Christians must not be studied apart from the reactions of an ideological and religious character which were roused by the preaching of the gospel and the establishment of Christian communities. 5.—THE REACTIONS OF THE CHURCH

The church's reactions towards both Judaism and Greco-Roman paganism assumed two forms. One was altogether instinctive and practical, a matter of feeling: it was expressed by hostility which showed itself whenever there was opportunity. The other was ideological. The doctrinal reaction was a source of interminable controversies which Christianity had to sustain with both Judaism and paganism. It had very diverse aspects. The Jewish and pagan polemics against Christianity were not as independent of each other as might have been supposed. Celsus in his 'True Discourse' borrows some of his arguments against Christianity from a 'Jew'.1 Porphyry and others also took much of their argument from Jewish polemic.2 For the early period we have no direct evidence of the objections which the Jewish polemic directed against Christianity.3 But some idea of the forms they took and the points on which they concentrated can be gained by considering the replies made to such objections in some of the books of the New Testament such as the Gospels.4 1

This 'Jew' is perhaps the rabbi Trypho with whom Justin Martyr argued. On all these questions see the excellent book by Fr. de Labriolle, La reaction paienne, Paris, 1934. 3 The earliest exposition of Jewish objections to Christianity in our possession is to be found in the Dialogue against the Jew Trypho by Justin Martyr. 4 As an instance the story of the guard being placed at the sepulchre in Matthew xxvii. 62-66 can be quoted which, as the author shows us without disguise, meets a desire to refute the Jews who explained belief in the resurrection to be due to fraud on the part of the disciples who had taken away the body of Jesus. 2

29

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

The pagan polemic only appeared above ground at a later date. Christians only began to offer a defence of their ideological position to pagan public opinion in the second quarter of the first century.1 This was because, as can be seen from the first pagan references to Christianity in Suetonius, Pliny the younger and Tacitus,2 public opinion in the Roman world, so far as it was not totally and clearly ignorant of it or did not fail to confound it with Judaism, profoundly mistook its nature. It considered it to be a poor petty oriental superstition which was not worth arguing with and too insignificant to ask for suppression.3 1 Arguments between Christians and pagans only began with the Apologists. See Aime* Puech, Les Apologetes grecs, Paris, 1912. * See my observations, Life of Jesus, pp. 94 ff. * It must be noted that about 50 Thallus, a freedman of Tiberius according to a fragment of Julius Africanus which has been preserved by the Byzantine chronicler George the Syncellus (810) (C. Muller, Fragmenta historicorum graecorum, Paris, 1841-70, III, pp. 517 f.) maintained that the darkness which according to the gospel tradition accompanied the death of Jesus was due to an eclipse. The statements of the gospel tradition were therefore discussed in Rome at an early date. It is true that the environment was one not unconnected with Judaism. See my article, *Un nouveau te"moinage non-chre*tien sur la tradition eVangelique d'apres M. Eisler', R.h.r., 1928, XCVIII, pp. 1-12. Cf. V. de J.t pp. 70 f. and Life of Jesus, pp. 91 ff.

45°

CHAPTER II

The Reactions of Palestinian Judaism to the Preaching of the Gospel I.—THE FEELINGS OF JUDAISM TOWARDS C H R I S T I A N I T Y UP TO 70 AND ITS METHODS OF ACTION

IT will be useful to examine two important points before we try to form any idea as to the attitude of Judaism towards the preaching of the gospel and the small groups of Christians which, at a quite early date, came into existence in Jerusalem and Judaea. How did Judaism before 70 regard ideas and beliefs which differed more or less from orthodox sentiment and what methods of action were at the disposal of the Jewish authorities under the rule of the procurators for resisting those who were opposed to the doctrines and spirit of Judaism? The catastrophe of 70 compelled Judaism to recoil upon itself, become identified with Pharisaism, and to assume a hostile attitude towards any movement which did not conform to Pharisaism now that it had become equivalent to Jewish orthodoxy and in the preceding half century Judaism abounded in contrasts. But such divergences of view and differing attitudes failed to cause real contention, internal conflicts or even any positive discomfort. For instance, to take the temple worship and its sacrificial system we see that the Sadducees regarded it as of primary importance while the Pharisees were lukewarm towards it. The Essenes were still more reserved in their attitude: they did not condemn it in principle as they sent offerings to the temple treasure but they abstained from any participation in the sacrifices. As for John Baptist he does not seem to have attached the least importance to the temple cultus. But neither John Baptist nor the Essenes were thought of as heretics who ought to be cut off from the Jewish community. Although Messianic ideas were in the centre of Jewish religious thought in the first century, they were extremely fluctuating 451

THE BIRTH OF C H R I S T I A N I T Y

in character. The conception of the Son of Man was closely associated with that of the Davidic Messiah and there was no difficulty in holding them both simultaneously. It is not impossible that speculations that a second Adam would come and that the Messiah would be some sort of a man had already begun to be entertained by certain circles in Palestine. To declare oneself Messiah might be inopportune and goad the Roman authorities to intervene With dangerous consequences for the whole nation. But the fact that innumerable pretenders to be Messiah were given a warm welcome proves that it was not a heresy. Rabbi Aqiba, a man who was the very embodiment of the spirit of Judaism, hailed Barkochba as fulfilling the prophecy of Numbers xxiv. 17 * there shall come a star out of Jacob' and acclaimed him as the Messiah.1 First-century Judaism expected the coming of the Messiah to be the prelude to 'Israel's deliverance' and yet, when John Baptist appeared and proclaimed the appearance of the Messiah as something to be dreaded, his preaching met with a great response and no one thought of accusing him of heresy. Between Pharisees and Sadducees disputes were keen. They centred round points the importance of which were bound to be misunderstood, such as the existence of angels and spirits and the idea of resurrection but neither of them seems ever to have thought of demanding the expulsion of their opponents from the Jewish religious community. Even to predict the coming of catastrophes which would strike at the nation, Jerusalem, and the temple itself, was not heresy.2 But while Judaism previous to 70 still showed itself fairly flexible and tolerant of internal differences on one point it was adamant. That was the absolute value and divine origin of the law. With this went the unique privileges and mission of Israel and its exclusive call to salvation. These were dogmas which were not to be called 1

Schurer, Gesch. I, p. 685. This is proved by the incident reported by Josephus (G.j. vi. 5, 3) concerning a certain Jesus, son of Ananias, a peasant of modest means, who six years before the Jewish war broke out, began after the feast of Tabernacles in the temple to prophesy and predict the fall of Jerusalem. The ill-treatment which he received from the mob could not silence him. The Jewish authorities intervened, not because the speeches of Jesus, the son of Ananias, appeared sacrilegious but because they were thought inopportune and likely to disturb public order. Jesus was brought not before the Sanhedrin which only took cognisance of religious charges but before the procurator Albinus who was responsible for the maintenance of peace and order. The procurator had him scourged, but he did not succeed in silencing him. He continued to prophesy right up to the time when during the siege he was killed by a stone from a catapult. 2

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in question. If anyone seemed to cast doubts on one of them he could rest assured that he would find the whole of Judaism like a rock ranged against him. If we penetrate below the surface, what happened at the trial of Jesus1 supports this contention. At any rate it is not contradicted. The causes of the drama of the passion are complex and events seem to have followed one another with such rapidity that it is not easy to see exactly what happened. But a critical analysis of the tradition gives us assurance on several points. First of all it is certain that popular feeling was not hostile to Jesus but on the whole rather the reverse. Hostility came to him from a more limited group which consisted of the Jewish authorities. The scribes and Pharisees were annoyed to see a man who did not come from their group, and had not been trained by them and was regarded by them as illiterate, putting himself forward as a teacher of the people and claiming for himself real authority. While we must not generalise and say that all the Pharisees were hostile to Jesus, some of them determined to bring about his death, not so much because they thought that he was a heretic who was misleading the people as a dangerous rival to themselves. The motives which led the Sanhedrin to declare Jesus worthy of death and then induced Pilate to pronounce sentence of death upon him—he had previously been persuaded to give orders for his arrest—were not necessarily the same. To persuade Pilate to act it was sufficient to make out to him that Jesus was one of those claimants to Messiahship who appeared from time to time and created disturbance in the country. But the fact that Jesus had declared himself to be the Messiah, even if it could be proved, would not have been sufficient to persuade the Sanhedrin to condemn him. Jesus, however, had once said to his disciples, not only that he would come again on the clouds of heaven but also that in three days he would destroy and rebuild the temple, i.e. he would change the whole economy of Israel's religion, its structure and worship. This had been reported to the Sanhedrin and could not be forgiven. It was this saying which persuaded the Sanhedrin to declare him worthy of death. To understand the attitude of the Jews towards the Christians in Jerusalem and Palestine we have not only to consider the feelings with which the various groups of Christians inspired them; we must also take into account the methods of action open to them in dealing 1

See V. dej., pp. 360 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 464 ff.

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with them. Both the great Sanhedrin at Jerusalem and the local Sanhedrins preserved their existence and competence under the rule of the procurators but they lost the power of imposing capital punishment unless they had first obtained the permission of the Roman governor. We do not know if their activities were restricted further. But whatever may have been the case, the fear of attracting the attention of the Roman authorities and causing them to intervene must have induced the Jewish authorities to act with a certain measure of reserve and discretion. It is difficult to regard it as nothing more than an accident that on the only two occasions when before yo1 Judaistic Christianity suffered persecution the Roman government lacked complete control of Palestine. The first was in 44 when James the son of Zebedee and almost certainly his brother John were put to death and Peter was hard pressed and had to hurry away.2 At that time the rule of the procurators had been replaced by the restoration of the kingdom of Herod the Great in favour of his grandson Agrippa I. The other was in 62 when James the Just, the brother of Jesus, was put to death.3 At that time the office of procurator was vacant for some months between the death of Festus and the arrival of Albinus and consequently, while Roman administration did not collapse, it must have been slack. Perhaps the fact that the persecutions against the Christians in 44 did not last long, when the rule of the procurators was re-established, is not altogether devoid of significance. In any case, this hypothesis must be considered as we know that Jewish religious practices and services were closely watched. Typical proof of this is shown by the rapidity with which the tribune Lysias intervened at the time of the riot caused by the presence of the apostle Paul in the temple (Acts xxi. 31 f.). 2.—THE DESCRIPTION GIVEN BY THE COMPILER OF ACTS OF THE ATTITUDE OF THE JEWISH AUTHORITIES TOWARDS THE CHURCH AT JERUSALEM A CRITICISM OF HIS DESCRIPTION

If we are to believe the story in the book of the Acts a conflict or at any rate a skirmish between nascent Christianity and the Jewish authorities took place apparently at a very early stage, some time before the preaching of Stephen, by vehemently criticising the Jewish religion caused Jewish public opinion to be deeply disturbed. 1

Naturally the persecution against Stephen and the Hellenists must be put on one side and considered apart. * See pp. 456 ff. * See pp. 123 ff.

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The occasion of this incident was the healing of an impotent man by Peter and John who took up his post by the gate of the temple to ask for alms. This was what first called the attention of the Jewish authorities to the disciples of Jesus and their preaching.1 On their appearance before the Jewish authorities2 they were not condemned, but forbidden to continue to preach in the name of Jesus (iii. i-iv. 31). A little later, a second incident which was more serious took place. The Twelve appeared before the Sanhedrin. The narrative in Acts does not tell us what had happened to lead to this. One of the members of the court, Gamaliel, advised his colleagues to take care what they were doing. Supporting his contention by examples to which we will revert later,3 he maintained that if the Christian movement did not come from God it would collapse of its own accord, but if it came from God it was futile and dangerous to try and withstand it. They then confined themselves to repeating the prohibition, which had been made previously to the apostles Peter and John, but this time they made it more serious and threatened them in a more explicit manner by beating them (v. 17-42). As before, the apostles took no notice of the prohibition but nothing happened. From whatever point of view we look at them, both these stories especially the second, are inconsistent. In the first we cannot grasp what legal procedure was being followed. It is quite clear that the author intended to tell of a trial but the nature of the accusation is not revealed and the affair ends with a simple prohibition which cannot be interpreted either as an acquittal or a condemnation. Yet it is difficult to suppose that the story is only fiction, as, if it had been, it would have been more coherent in character. What can be retained, it seems, is the idea that nothing more than an enquiry was made into the preaching of Peter and John to which attention had been drawn by an incident of some kind. The practical conclusion of the enquiry was a purely formal prohibition not to disturb public order. It may well be that the prohibition mentioned is an invention of the compiler of Acts whose a priori conception 1 In the actual setting of the story the incident is preceded by the story of the events of Pentecost which it cannot be supposed passed unnoticed, but it is plain that the incident of the impotent man was originally supposed to mark the first public appearance of Christianity. 2 It cannot be clearly discerned whether the compiler has in mind an appearance before the Sanhedrin or simply an interrogation conducted by the officials respons8 ible for the maintenance of law and order in the temple. See p. 457.

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of the feelings entertained by Jews for Christians prevented him from thinking it possible for the apostles to appear before the Jewish authorities and being dismissed with anything less than at the very least an order to keep silent with threats of punishment if they did not obey. The story of the appearance of the Twelve before the Sanhedrin which is given in Acts v. 17-42 is still more inconsistent. There is no organic link connecting it with what precedes it and with what follows. It is preceded by a note of a general kind (v. 12-16) saying that Christians were all with one accord in Solomon's porch without anyone thinking of troubling them.1 Signs and wonders were wrought by the hands of the apostles. Peter in particular possessed such power of healing that they brought sick people on pallets so that the shadow of Peter passing by might overshadow them. Bluntly and without any further explanation, verse 17 states that the highpriest Annas2 and the other priests belonging to the Sadducee party had the apostles arrested and put in prison. No explanation of this measure is pffered. It is quite arbitrary without anything in the text to support or lead one to suppose that the people and the authorities differed in their attitude towards the Christians.3 At the end of the story it is said that the apostles were scourged and then released with a warning to stop speaking in the name of Jesus. They took no notice of this (v. 42) but the authorities do not seem to have been disturbed by their negligence. As for the story of the appearance before the Sanhedrin, the whole point of it lies in the speech of Gamaliel advising moderation so that they would not be exposed to the danger of fighting against 1

Verse 13 says that 'no man durst join himself to them*. As the following verse says that the number of Christians did not stop growing, it must mean that no one cared to meddle in the Christian circle in order to cause trouble. 2 On the reading 'Annas the high-priest* in p against the evidence of the other manuscripts and versions see p. 91, n. 3. The mistake as to what the name of the high-priest was is not favourable evidence for the value of the tradition which has been used. 3 This idea, however, is suggested by the fact that it is related that during the night the apostles were miraculously delivered—this perhaps has come from the story concerning Peter in xii. 4 ff. and that on the following morning when they wanted to bring the apostles before the Sanhedrin they found the prison empty, as the apostles were in the temple teaching undisturbed. They had them brought, but did not use violence in order not to hurt popular feelings. We have here a miraculous incident which has no effect on the march of events. The idea of a preliminary imprisonment is borrowed from the story of the appearance in court of Peter and John (iv. 3). There it is due to the time when the arrest was made. In chapter v there is no such reason for it.

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God. Gamaliel's argument is that a movement which was purely human would fail of itself. He quotes two cases of this, the revolt of Theudas and a disturbance created by Judas the Galilean at the time of the taxing. Josephus gives accurate information1 showing that the revolt of Theudas happened when Fadus was governor. He was the first procurator to be sent out when, after the death of Agrippa I, Judaea became a Roman province again. It must, therefore, have happened after 44. Quite clearly, however, the compiler of Acts places the appearance of the apostles before the Sanhedrin before this date. We cannot solve the difficulty by supposing that the compiler of Acts has made a mistake and anticipated the appearance of the apostles before the Sanhedrin by ten years or more. Peter had left Jerusalem; so doubtless had the other members of the Twelve, while in any case, the direction of the church was not in their hands but in James'. According to Gamaliel's speech Theudas' insurrection was quickly followed by that of Judas the Galilean, both of which he makes out had only recently taken place. Gamaliel states—and this is supported by Josephus—that the revolution led by Judas the Galilean happened 'at the time of the taxing', i.e. in A.D. 7. Gamaliel's speech therefore contains a series of anachronisms. It says that one event very quickly followed another although in fact there was an interval between them of forty years. They are stated to have happened in the reverse order in which they in fact took place, and finally, Gamaliel is speaking of two events as if they had recently happened, when in fact one of them had taken place about twenty-five years before he is supposed to be speaking and the other must have taken place at least ten years afterwards. Hence Gamaliel's speech is an artificial clumsy literary composition.2 But it is so essential to the story of the appearance 1

Josephus, A.j. xx. 5, i. It is difficult to explain the cause of the mistake which we have shown was made in the story in Acts. Josephus, after he has mentioned the insurrection of Theudas and its repression in A.j. xx. 5, i adds (xx. 5, 2) that Tiberius Alexander, Fadus' successor, put to death the sons of Judas the Galilean who had once tried to stir up the people at the time of the taxing made by Quirinius (Josephus mentions this attempt in book xviii. i, i). Some authors (Wendt, Die Apostelgeschichte, Meyer, IIP, Goettingen, 1913, p. 43; Schmiedel, art. 'Theudas', E.B. IV, cols. 5049 f.; Loisy, Actesy p. 288) think that the compiler of Acts had only read Josephus' story in a superficial way or was quoting from it from memory, having no clear recollection of it. This is hardly probable as Josephus' story is clearly told and does not lend itself to misunderstanding. There is no doubt that we must adopt the hypothesis put forward by H. J. Cadbury (Begin., II, p. 356) that Josephus and the compiler of Acts depended on the same source which Josephus understood better and used in a more judicious manner than the author of Acts. 2

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before the Sanhedrin that, if it is eliminated, there is nothing left. We must therefore suppose that the story is a complete fiction and has no historical value. There is one point, however, in the two stories which needs attention. The first states that only in the course of the interrogation was it learnt that Peter and John 'had been with Jesus* (iv. 13); in the second the high-priest makes his complaint against the apostles with these words, 'Did not we straitly command you that ye should not teach in this name? and, behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend to bring this man's blood upon us* (v. 28). These two passages make us question how far the Jewish authorities were led to take action against Jesus and secure his condemnation from the same motives which later on incited them to take action against his disciples. They did not on the first occasion question Peter and John because they had been preaching in the name of Jesus but because they wanted to know what they were preaching. The information given them on this point seems to have been reassuring as they were not seriously disturbed and the compiler of Acts in spite of his a priori conviction that the representatives of Judaism were systematically hostile, allows it to be seen that Christian preaching was able to progress without being perceptibly impeded. When the Twelve later on appeared before the Sanhedrin, they were not accused of giving the people teaching which was blasphemous or contrary to the doctrines and spirit of Judaism, but of presenting Jesus in a favourable light and so making the people sympathetic to him and running the risk of causing a revolt against the Jewish authorities, who had been responsible for his death, 'of bringing this man's blood upon them', i.e. as it cannot be seen what else this expression could mean, of exposing the leaders of the people to the vengeance of those who had become disciples of Jesus. Here the story in Acts cannot be suspected of minimising the opposition to the preaching of the Twelve. The Jewish authorities were therefore shown to be hostile to their preaching, not because it was thought erroneous or blasphemous, but only because it was thought inopportune and likely to diminish their authority or to create a disturbance hostile to them. It cannot be supposed that this was a conception which originated with the compiler of Acts as he considered that Judaism was hostile in principle to Christianity from the start. Probably then, we have here evidence from a good tradition showing that the Jewish authorities regarded Christian preaching

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with some mistrust, not on the grounds that it could not be reconciled with Judaism but on the grounds that it was inopportune and capable of causing a disturbance and so furnishing the Romans with a pretext for their intervention which was always dreaded. Paradoxical as it may seem, the Jewish authorities did not feel for Jesus' disciples the same hatred which they had shown for him. They—or at any rate those who formed the circle round the Twelve —did not adopt the attitude which Jesus had taken up at the end of his ministry, perhaps because they were too strongly attached to Judaism to understand it. For by then Jesus had despaired of the conversion of Israel and so came to think that in place of the Jews the kingdom of God would be realised among the Gentiles, He had proclaimed that when he returned as the Son of Man and Messiah he would destroy and then rebuild the temple, i.e. he would reconstruct the religious economy of Israel. This is confirmed by the fact that both the Jewish people and their leaders adopted a very different attitude towards Stephen and the Hellenists who were the real heirs of the last thoughts of Jesus from that which they showed towards the Twelve. We have seen further back1 how Stephen, inspired by the words of Jesus about the destruction and reconstruction of the temple, called the religion of Israel one long act of idolatry. We have now to gather what we can from the story in Acts what reactions Stephen's teaching encountered. Two elements rather artificially joined together can be discerned in the story devoted to Stephen (vi. i-viii. 3). There is a narrative and in the narrative is a speech. That the two were joined together at a later date may be inferred from the fact that the speech, which is in reality a missionary sermon and a statement of Stephen's teaching handed down to us in a mutilated and edited form, is offered as Stephen's defence in reply to an accusation which had been brought by two false witnesses. The speech is not a protest against a calumnious accusation but reads as a justification of what Stephen was accused of having said, viz. that he knew that Jesus on his return would destroy the temple and change the customs which had been given by Moses. A rapid analysis of the story shows that it combines two traditions closely resembling one another but differing on one point which otherwise is of secondary importance. One of the traditions seems to have been only a variant of the other. It is related that Stephen, full of grace and power, did great wonders and miracles among the 1

See pp. 171 ff.

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people and taught in the synagogue of the Libertines and Cyrenians, Alexandrians, and people from Cilicia and Asia with such force that no one could resist the Spirit by whom he spoke. His enemies then stirred up false witnesses against him, who accused him of having uttered blasphemies against Moses and God. They succeeded in stirring up the people, the elders and scribes, i.e. both popular opinion and the authorities. They seized him and dragged him before the Sanhedrin (vi. 8-12). We find here two elements which are placed side by side but are not in perfect harmony with each other. There is the idea of a popular movement and the idea of a regular trial. The fact that there were two sources is supported by what is said in verses 13-14 about false witnesses who appear before the Sanhedrin. They do not play the same part as the false witnesses mentioned in verse 11 who are suborned not to initiate proceedings, but in the course of a trial which has already begun, to give evidence in support of a charge which, if proved, would lead to condemnation to death for blasphemy. They affirm that Stephen does not stop speaking against the Holy Place and the law. They say that they have heard him declare that Jesus of Nazareth would destroy this place, i.e. the temple and would change the customs which had been given by Moses. Stephen was questioned about the accusation by the high-priest; his face then became like that of an angel1 and then he declaimed the speech which we analysed further back (vi. i5~vii. 53).2 Stephen's words put his audience in such a rage that they ground their teeth (vii. 54) and did not allow him to continue his speech. It is clear that the end of the speech was so shortened, or rather mutilated to such an extent, that it became almost unintelligible. The compiler of Acts took refuge in this literary artifice to avoid reporting the conclusion of a speech, which in its outspokenness did not agree with his ideas concerning the relationship between Judaism and Christianity. We are told nothing about the end of the trial or its interruption but pass on at once to the story of the martyrdom. Stephen fell into ecstasy and declared that he saw the heavens opened and the Son of Man on the right hand of God (vii. 55-S6).3 Thereupon, those present threw themselves on Stephen, dragged him out of the city and stoned him. Whether they 1

This means that he is filled with the Holy Spirit. See pp. 171 fi. 8 This phrase comes from the declaration of Jesus before the Sanhedrin (Mark xiv. 62 and par.). 460 2

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were judges or witnesses, accusers, or people who had been following the trial, the text does not tell us. Before he expired Stephen said again, 'Lord, Jesus, receive my spirit', and then, 'Lord, lay not this sin to their charge'.1 We can see that the end of this story is influenced by two ideas which were current in early Christianity, the effect of which can be easily seen in any of the stories of martyrs. One is that the martyr is not a testimony given by a Christian of his faith but a testimony given by God of Himself through hfs spirit inspiring him. The other is that the martyr, naturally in varying degrees and with varying shades of exactness, imitated the passion of Christ.2 The two traditions, one showing Stephen as a victim of popular fury, and the other as a criminal condemned by the Sanhedrin after a more or less regular trial are so closely interwoven in the narrative in Acts that it is impossible to distinguish what comes from one and what comes from the other. It is equally impossible to find out which one reproduces with greater accuracy what actually happened. One consideration inclines us to favour the idea that there was a regular trial, although it is not decisive. It is that, if there had been a popular outbreak, it would have been difficult for the Roman authorities to have shut their eyes and refrained from taking measures to quell it. If the compiler of Acts had known of any action on their part he would not have failed to mention it, as it would have supported his cherished prejudice that it was the Roman government which prevented the hatred of the Jews for the Christians having full play. It is of course true that the author of Acts wrote too long after the event for us to be certain that he knew what were the consequences of the murder of Stephen for the Jews. It is not impossible that the Roman government shut its eyes to a popular agitation which was not in any way directed against it. According to the compiler of Acts (viii. i) a general persecution of the church at Jerusalem followed Stephen's martyrdom and all its members were compelled to scatter in Judaea and Samaria with the exception of the apostles. Quite naturally those who belonged to Stephen's group and shared his ideas were alarmed and could only secure safety by leaving the city. In addition they were not kept at Jerusalem out of devotion to the temple and its worship. But the 1

These sayings come from those reported in Luke xxiii. 46 and xxiii. 34. As they are not given by Mark it must be supposed that they are due to literary elaboration. 2 Not only the writers of the stories of the martyrs were influenced by the stories of the passion. It is certain that in many cases at least the martyrs must have forced themselves to assimilate their demeanour to that of Jesus, the martyr's model. 461

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compiler of Acts failed to understand the real relationship between the Hellenist group directed by the Seven and the Hebraic group directed by the Twelve and misunderstood the character of this persecution. Apart from this, we do not see how in a general persecution the apostles, who should have been the first to be threatened, could have remained in Jerusalem without being disturbed. The narrative also fails to explain how it happened that shortly afterwards the persecution ceased and the Hebraists are rediscovered reunited in Jerusalem (ix. 31). Saul of Tarsus played an important part in the persecution of Stephen and the Hellenists; all the statements referring to this are so clumsily fitted into the narrative that they look as if they were editorial additions (vii. 58; viii. i, 3). But the compiler may have introduced Saul into a story in which originally he was not mentioned by name, because he had good reason for doing so and knew either from another source or from a tradition worthy of credence that the future apostle had taken an effective part in these persecutions. The question where Paul persecuted the church is then quite unsettled. That he did so is attested by Paul himself in such terms that it cannot be called in question (Phil. iii. 6; Gal. i. 13; i Cor. xv. 9; cf. i Tim. i. 13). Unfortunately these allusions make no mention of the circumstances of his part in persecution as his readers were perfectly aware of them. Some scholars1 think that the statement of Acts (vii. 58; viii. 1-3; ix. 1-2) that Paul persecuted the Christians at Jerusalem must be considered doubtful. They think the future apostle came into contact with Christianity for the first time in the district of Damascus and there first tried to destroy it. In support of their contention they first of all invoke the fact that the high-priest could not give Paul full powers to act in Damascus and bring back to him the Christians whom he found there. The synagogues at Damascus were not under his jurisdiction. But actually the text does not speak of full powers but only of letters of recommendation; the high-priest, we know, enjoyed a moral authority which would allow him to do

1 Mommsen, 'Die Rechtsverhaltnisse des Apostels Paulus,' Z.N.T.W., 1901, II, p. 80; Loisy, L'tp, aux Gal., p. 69; Actes, p. 389; Schwartz, *Zur. Chron.', N.G., 1907, p. 375; Heitmuller, 'Zum Problem Jesus und Paulus', Z.N.T.W., 1912, XIII, pp. 327ff.; Wellhausen, Noton, N.G., 1907, p. 9; Krit. An., A.G., 1914, p. 55; Preuschen, D. Apgsch., p. 55. To the arguments generally used to deny that Paul persecuted in Jerusalem Guignebert (Le Christ, pp. 250 f.) adds a new one. He thinks that if Paul had persecuted the church in Jerusalem, he would have considered it part of his duty to have repaired the evil which he had done. This is a rather bold psychological interpretation.

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this.1 Secondly, they invoke the fact that in Galatians i. 17, where Paul is speaking of the period immediately following his conversion he does not say, 'I did not return to Jerusalem', but 1 did not go up', which shows, they say, that he had not been there before his conversion. But the context does not call for any allusion to where Paul was before he went to Damascus. Throughout the whole of the passage Paul takes his conversion to be the beginning of something absolutely new in his life. He tries to offer a very clear picture of his relations with Jerusalem from the time he became a Christian in order to prove that he did not receive his gospel from the Twelve. From this point of view his previous sojourns in Jerusalem are irrelevant. He has no reason to mention them. They also point out that, when Paul is speaking of the period which, after his visit to Peter, he spent in Syria and Cilicia, he says, 'I was unknown by face unto the churches of Judaea which were in Christ. But they had heard only, that he which persecuted us in times past now preacheth the faith which once he destroyed. And they glorified God in me* (Gal. i. 22-24). How then, it may be asked, if Paul had persecuted the churches in Judaea, could he have been unknown to them? But the terms here used by Paul must not be pressed too hard; otherwise we meet with another contradiction, the Christians of Judaea saying that Paul persecuted them and yet they did not know him.2 At the time when these persecutions took place the church was not yet an institution set up in opposition to the synagogue. It was only a small group of brethren who continued to worship as Jews but met at each others' houses. Persecution could only have consisted of measures against individuals who had first of all to be hunted out. In such conditions Christians had every possible reason for avoiding meeting their enemies. The struggle might have gone on without any contact taking place between the persecutor and his victims. The result was the emigration of the Hellenists. Also the church grew so rapidly with the result that at the time of which Galatians i. 22-24 ls speaking the churches in Judaea must have been made up for the most part of people who were not members in the days when Paul was persecuting them. It must be added that apart from Damascus we have no evidence at all for the existence of groups of Christians outside Judaea before Paul's conversion. It is easy to understand why a punitive expedition 1

Ed. Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 163. Ed. Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 162. Wernle, 'Jesus und Paulus, Antithesen zu Boussets Kyrios Christes', Z.f.Th.u.K., 1915, XXV, p. 57. 2

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was taken in hand against the Christians at Damascus if their group, which may have been founded by Hellenists who came from Jerusalem, was the only one existing at that time outside Jerusalem. The arguments used then to try and prove that it was not at Jerusalem that Paul persecuted the Christians are not convincing. But the book of the Acts does not provide strong enough evidence for it to be considered proved that the churches in Judaea were the victims of Paul's persecution. But, as the theories concerning the existence of Christian groups in the diaspora previous to the dispersion of the Hellenists independent of the church in Jerusalem are purely conjectural in character, the hypothesis that Paul persecuted Christianity in Jerusalem seems the most reasonable. Acts does not say how the persecution against the Hellenists finished. It only remarks, after the story of Paul's conversion, that the church in Judaea, Galilee, and Samaria enjoyed peace (ix. 31). This would have been somewhat surprising, if the aim of the persecution had not been the Hellenists and had not stopped as soon as they had left Jerusalem. Acts does not say explicitly that persecution broke out again at the time of Paul's first visit as a convert to Jerusalem but hints that he then found that he was in danger and had to leave for Caesarea and from there went to Tarsus (ix. 29-30). The epistle to the Galatians (i. 19) to some extent supports this hint, when it says that on his first visit to Peter, Paul acted with reserve and apart from Peter made no contact with anyone but James. Unfortunately we do not know if his attitude was dictated by hostility from the Jews who had been enraged by his sharp turn-round or by mistrust on the part of the Christians in Jerusalem generated by the way in which he was already preaching the gospel to the Gentiles. The first epistle to the Thessalonians provides evidence, which unfortunately is rather vague, as it is just a bare allusion to the persecution of the churches of Judaea. Speaking of what the Thessalonians have had to suffer at the hands of their fellow citizens, Paul says to them, Tor ye, brethren, became followers of the churches of God which in Judaea are in Christ Jesus: for ye also have suffered like things of your own countrymen, even as they have of the Jews: who hath killed the Lord Jesus, and their own prophets, and have persecuted us; and they please not God, and are contrary to all men: forbidding us to speak to the Gentiles, that they might be saved, to fill up their sins alway: for the wrath is come upon them to the uttermost' (ii. 14-16). Although Paul's words seem to mean that the persecutions in 464

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Judaea were taking place when he was writing, they must not be understood exactly in that sense. Paul did not have at Corinth where he was writing to the Thessalonians any sources of information at his disposal as to what was happening in Judaea. He seems to have been alluding to what had taken place at the time of the persecution against the Hellenists, to be generalising from what he found in the diaspora by supposing that the situation was the same in Judaea. Thus his statement cannot outweigh the evidence of Acts that persecution ceased after the dispersion of the Hellenists.1 There is no doubt that the peace enjoyed by the church in Jerusalem after the departure of the Hellenists must have begun at the end of 29 or 30 and seems to have lasted until 44. In that year a short but sharp storm disturbed the church. Popular Jewish opinion had been disturbed by the concessions, which the pillars of the church at Jerusalem had just made to Paul and Barnabas, who stood for the idea that the Gentiles could be saved without being bound to observe the Jewish ritual law, although they were trifling and paper concessions at that. By an unfortunate coincidence for the Christians Judaea was not at that time being administered by procurators. The old kingdom of Herod the Great had been restored in favour of his grandson, Herod Agrippa I. Although he was really pagan at heart, perhaps just because of this his political policy at home was to humour in the extreme the religious convictions of his subjects.2 And so he seized this opportunity for doing so and giving them satisfaction by acting with harsh rigour against those who had outraged the law by showing themselves conciliatory towards Paul. The compiler of Acts saw no real connection between the conference at Jerusalem and the persecution; but he shows that they both happened at the same time because he brackets the story of the persecution between two fragments, one telling of the departure of Paul and Barnabas from Antioch for Jerusalem (xi. 27-30), and the other of their return to Antioch (xii. 25).3 The story of the persecution is briefly told with little detail. We are not told why Herod Agrippa determined to act but it does reveal that the king was not condemning the whole church but 1 It is difficult to share Harnack's opinion (Mission, I, p. 47, n. i) that the saying in Matthew x. 17, 'they will deliver you up to the councils', is sufficient to prove the reality of persecutions in Judaea. 2 For the way in which Herod Agrippa pretended at Jerusalem to be a zealous Jew, see the evidence of Josephus, A.j. xix. 6, i; 7, 3. 3 Concerning the confused ideas of the compiler of Acts as to the date and purpose of this visit see p. 294, n. i.

30

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only some of its leaders. It says, 'Herod stretched forth his hands to vex (KaKajcrat) certain of the church. And he killed James the brother of John with the sword' (xii. 1-2). There are very good reasons for thinking that the earliest text or the text of the source, had the words 'James and his brother John'.1 What is said of James (and John) is not an addition to the expression Vexing certain members of the church' but is given to illustrate it and supports the hypothesis that the persecution was directed only at some of the most prominent personalities who were thought to be responsible for the concessions which had been made to Paul. Peter just escaped being one of them. Encouraged by the favourable impression the killing of James (and John) had made on the Jews, Herod had Peter arrested but delayed his trial2 because the feast of the Passover and unleavened bread was at hand. While Peter was in prison the church prayed intently for his release.3 Acts relates that the night before the day when he was to be tried or executed Peter was miraculously released by an angel of the Lord. After he had rejoined the brethren whom he found gathered together at the house of Mary, John Mark's mother, he left the city for what place the story does not say. He seems to have left it for good (xii. 3-17). It is difficult to disentangle from this story what is to be considered historical. Perhaps Peter Was not actually put in prison but was only threatened in such a way that he had to flee secretly and the impression was left that only a miracle could have saved him. Perhaps he really was put in prison and managed to escape through a conspiracy4 on which silence had to be kept, which helped to create a legend that he was miraculously released. 1 A fragment published by C. de Boor (Neue Fragmente des Papias, Hegesippus und Pierius aus der Kirchengeschichte des Pkilippus Sidetes, Leipzig, 1888, p. 170) contains the following, 'Papias reports in his second book that John the divine and James, his brother, were killed by the Jews*. Mark x. 35-40 contains a prophecy ex eventu of the martyrdom of the two brothers (see on this subject my observations: 'Deux notes d'exe*gese, R.h.r., 1941, CXXIII, pp. 27-42). For some other clues which go to strengthen Papias's evidence see Intr. II, pp. 92 ff. It must be added that Eusebius (H.e. ii. 9, 1-3) relates that according to the Hypotyposes of Clement of Alexandria the man who brought James before the council was so touched when he heard him confess his faith that he declared himself a Christian and was beheaded with the apostles. It is difficult to share Dom Leclercq's opinion (art. 'Jacques le Majeur', D.A.C.L., VII, col. 2092) that there is no good reason for rejecting this evidence but it may have been that the tradition received by Clement showed traces that it was remembered that James did not perish by himself. 2 Or his execution. The text is not clear. 3 The fact that he alone was the object of the church's prayers leads us to think that no other Christians were imprisoned. 4 The suggestion of a conspiracy was put forward by Grundmann, 'Die Apostel zwischen Jerusalem und Antiochia', Z.N.T.W., 1940, XXXIX, p. 129, n. 41.

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The persecution of 44 was short. Was this only because Herod died before he got it under way?1 This seems unlikely as the story in Acts informs us that it had already come to an end when Herod left Jerusalem for Caesarea. Possibly the restoration of the rule of the procurator made it more difficult for the Jews to show their hostility to the Christians or to some of them, although the persecution seems to have ended before the king died. Perhaps Jewish public opinion, which had been for a time disquieted by the conference of Jerusalem, was reassured by the transfer, after Peter's departure, of the leadership of the church of Jerusalem into the hands of James, who was a strict Jewish legalist. The peace which the church of Jerusalem seems to have enjoyed from 44 onwards was not even disturbed in 58, when Paul was the victim of Jewish hatred and the Sanhedrin made every effort to have him delivered to them in order that they might try him for desecrating the temple. In the eyes of the Jews the Christians in Jerusalem were not associated with him.2 The peace was not broken in 62 on the death of James, who, as we saw,3 was killed by force at the hands of the high-priest Annas, who was jealous of his popularity. As the people who were most strongly attached to the law protested at the action of the high-priest, it is clear that Christians at Jerusalem were considered to be a Jewish sect whom no one thought of expelling from Judaism and that some Christians at any rate enjoyed great popularity in the city. The fact that the Christians left the city before the war or before the siege .cannot be considered a sign that there had been a rupture between the church in Jerusalem and Judaism. It only proves that they were not on the side of the Zealots but that was true of many other people.4 After 70 force of circumstances brought about a change in the character of the relationship between Jews and Christians. Judaism became completely hostile even to those forms of Christianity, which it had till then tolerated, but it was left without any means of direct action against the Christians. The era of theological discussion between them began. The Jews indulged in systematic apologetic and polemic both to prevent new conversions and to bring back deserters to the religion of their fathers. In reply, the church was not less thorough in trying to prevent returns to Judaism and to make fresh conversions among the Jews. 1 8

2

See pp. 21 f. See pp. 319 f.

See pp. 126 f. * See pp. 132 f.

467

CHAPTER III

The Reactions of the Jews in the Diaspora and the first interventions of Rome prompted by them I.—THE CHRISTIANS AT FIRST CONFUSED WITH THE JEWS AND ENJOYING THE TOLERANCE ACCORDED

TO JUDAISM AS A religio licita

THE Roman authorities did not take action against the disciples of Jesus at Jerusalem. We have seen in the preceding chapter that, on the contrary, the rule of the procurators gave the Christians protection against the measures which the Jews might have tried to take against them. From the Roman point of view, the affair Jesus, if the phrase may be used, seems to have been considered definitely closed by the execution of the sentence pronounced by Pilate. After this in every incident right up to Paul's trial, the Roman authorities in Palestine do not seem to have made any distinction between Jews and Christians.1 At first the same was true in the diaspora: for a long time Christians were confused with the Jews. But the latter went to work to clear up this confusion with such perseverance that we cannot help but think that they were working according to a set plan. So far as they succeeded they rendered the situation of the Christians in the empire very precarious. As soon as they ceased to enjoy the favoured treatment which had been awarded to Judaism, they found themselves without legal status, on thefringeof society and subjectto thepenaltyof death, because they practised an illicit religion. Judaism enjoyed an exceptional position in the empire. It had received considerable privileges through a series of public decrees which had been renewed and confirmed by Caesar and Augustus.2 1 This fact confirms the conclusions which we reached in the preceding chapter concerning the tranquillity which the Christians appear to have enjoyed in Palestine. 2 See Schurer, Gesch. Ill, pp. 66 ff.; Juster, Les Juifs dans VEmpire remain, I, pp. 213-242.

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Jewish communities possessed wide powers of self-government; they had rights of association and could exercise discipline over their members. Jews were exempt from all participation in public worship; they could take oaths without calling upon the gods. Their scruples concerning the sabbath were respected. They were not bound to appear in a law-court on that day and, when distributions to the people were made on a Saturday, they were repeated the next day specially for them. All this was possible because Judaism was considered to be the national religion of a people1 who had been the friend and ally of the Roman people before they became vassals. In theory, only Jews by race were allowed to practise their religion. They did not possess the right to evangelise on its behalf but in practice every synagogue was a centre of active propaganda and proselytes or 'God-fearers', who became members of the synagogues, seem generally speaking to have been undisturbed.2 They must have been too few in numbers for anyone, so far as they were known, to think that they constituted a danger to the safety of society and the maintenance of order in the Roman empire. The groups which they formed lacked sufficient organisation and were too exclusive to make them appear dangerous. These privileges are all the more striking as Roman society had a poor opinion of the Jews and misunderstood them. Eveh Romans of great distinction3 accepted the most stupid calumnies against them. But their legal position in the empire was so strong that it remained unshaken during the Jewish war $nd after the capture of Jerusalem. 2.—THE EFFORTS OF THE JEWS TO COUNTER CHRISTIAN P R O P A G A N D A , ESPECIALLY PAUL'S MISSIONARY WORK

One of the points which interests us most closely is the right possessed by the Jewish communities to exercise discipline over their own members, even over those who possessed the privileges 1 They were attracted to Judaism but did not make any formal profession of their allegiance. 2 Sometimes it was different as, for example, under Domitian. See p. 529. 3 See especially what Tacitus (Hist. v. 2 ff.) says of the Jews in reference to whom he uses the words mos absurdus sordidusque. Similar expressions had previously been used by Cicero (barbara superstitio. Pro Flaeco, 28) and by the Elder Pliny (gens sontumelia numinum insignis, Hist, nat., xiii. 4, 46). On antisemitism in the Greco-Roman world see Schurer, Gesch. Ill, pp.. 102 ff.; M. Schuld, Les preventions de Rome contre la nation juive, Paris, 1882; Hild, 'Les Juifs devant 1'opinion romaine', R.e.j., 1885, II, pp. 176 ff.; C. Thiaucourt, 'Ce que Tacite dit des Juifs au commencement du livre V des Histoires', R.e.j. XIX, pp. 57-74; Gaston Boissier, Tacite sur les Juifs in Melanges offerts a Mgr de Cabriere, Paris, 1899, I, pp. 81-96.

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of Roman citizenship provided of course they wished to remain Jews. The only penalty they could not inflict was that of death, but the 'leaders of the synagogues' had the right of punishing Jews by beating1 and of pronouncing sentence of excommunication.2 It seems to have taken two forms, one light, the other heavy. One (niddd) was temporary; the other (heron) was permanent. We do not know what use was made of these disciplinary measures in the struggle against Christianity, but plainly they could only be used as long as Christians were content to remain within the synagogue and had not resigned themselves to forming themselves into separate groups. More than anything else they must have been used as a means of preventing Jews from being converted.3 But the means used by the Jews to hinder the Christian mission were indirect. They made every effort to persuade the Roman authorities that Christians were not Jews or had ceased to be so and consequently had no right to the privileges of Judaism. They seem also sometimes to have created riots for the purpose of giving the impression that the existence of Christian communities was a perpetual cause of agitation and disorder. According to the early church the Jews organised a proper campaign to fight the preaching of the gospel.4 Justin Martyr, who mentions several times the way in which Christ and the Christians were cursed in the synagogue,5 when addressing the Jew Tryphon says as follows, 'When you knew that he (Jesus) was risen from the dead and had ascended into heaven, as the prophets foretold, you not only refused to repent but chose delegates whom you sent into the whole world to say that an impious heresy, that of the Christians, had appeared and to publish calumnies against us which people who do not know us repeat'.6 1

Concerning this punishment which was ordained by Deut. xxv. 3, see Strack-Billerbeck, III, pp. 527-530. The apostle submitted to it five times (2 Cor. xi. 24). 2 Concerning exclusion from the synagogue see Strack-Billerbeck, IV, pp. 293-333. John (ix. 22) is plainly guilty of an anachronism when he speaks of a decision to exclude from the synagogue anyone who acknowledged Jesus as Messiah. It is quite likely that a principle of this kind was decided upon after 70. 8 For the same purpose the curses against the minim and the nosrim were used, i.e. against heretics and Christians. The Schmone Esre, a prayer which every Jew had to use three times a day, contained them from the first century onwards. The text and translation will be found in Strack, Jesus, die Haretiker und die Christen nach der altesten judischen Angaben, pp. 30 f., 64 ff. Cf. Schurer, Gesch. II, pp. 463 ff. * Harnack, Mission, I, p. 61. 5 Justin, Died. xvi. 4; xlvii. 5; xciii. 4; xcv. 4; xcvi. 2; cviii. 3; cxvii. 3; cxxxiii. 6; cxrxvii. 2. • Justin, Dial. xvii. i; cf. cviii. 2. The same idea is found later on in Eusebius, injesaj. 18, i and in Macarius of Magnesia, iii. 22, 29. 470

REACTIONS OF THE JEWS

Justin and his successors constantly express the idea, that always and everywhere, the Jews incited the Gentiles against the Christians and are therefore the real people responsible for the persecutions. Synagogue Judaeorum fontes persecutionum, Tertullian says.1 Justin's remarks about a kind of counter propaganda of a preventive kind undertaken by the Jews doubtless originated in the impression conveyed by the book of Acts and certain passages from Paul's epistles such as i Thessalonians ii. 15-16, where the apostle speaks of Jews who 'prevent us from preaching to the Gentiles lest they should be saved'.2 But if we look at these references closer, they do not tell of counter propaganda organised by Jews. The opposition which faced Paul everywhere he went may perfectly well have been a spontaneous product and the natural reaction of the Jews to the preaching of the gospel, which spread in certain districts from town to town, as is shown particularly in the story of the mission to Macedonia. It is certainly no accident that in the first incident reported in Acts in the story of Paul's first missionary journey, which is his encounter with the proconsul Sergius Paulus at Paphos, his enemy is portrayed to be the magician and false prophet, the Jew Elymas Bar-Jesus, who tries to dissuade the proconsul from becoming a Christian and is struck by Paul with blindness (Acts xiii. 6-12). The incident is full of obscurities.3 The compiler thinks that it proves the superiority of the gospel and the futility of all its enemies' efforts to prevent its victory. The attitude of the proconsul who 1

Tertullian, Scorpiacum, 10. Cf. Justin, Dial. xvi. 4; xcv. 4; cxxii. 2; cxxxiii. 6. Apol. I, xxxi. 5. Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. iv. 28, 3. Origen, C. Celsum, vi. 27. 2 Possibly also Justin and the Christian writers after him thought that allusions in the epistles to the Galatians and the Corinthians to Jewish Christians who troubled the churches of Galatia and Greece referred to Jewish agents of counterpropaganda. 3 The story is full of obscurities. Particularly noticeable are those concerning the name of the person. D. and some other texts have Etoimas instead of Elymas, a name which for some unknown reason the compiler considered to be the equivalent of Bar-Jesus (= son of Jesus) (cf. v. 8). According to a conjecture of Hugo Grotius adopted by Grimme (Elymas der Astrolog. Orient. Litzg., 1909, pp. 209-211) the name came from the Arabic and means 'the Magician'. But how would a Jew come to have an Arabic name? Burkitt ('The interpretation of "Bar-Jesus" ', Journ. oftheol. St., 1903, IV, pp. 127-129) saw in Elymas a corruption of o Aoifufe (= the pest). Rendel Harris ('A curious Bezan reading vindicated', Expositor, 1902, VI, 5, pp. 189-195) and Zahn ('Zur Lebensgeschichte des Apostels Paulus', N. Kirchl. Z., 1904, XV, pp. 195-200) adopt the reading Etoimas from the manuscript D., and identify the person as the Jewish magician Atomos who arranged Felix's marriage with Drusilla (Josephus, A.j. xx. 7, 2). The reading Atomos is given by Niese in his edition of Josephus according to the manuscript of Milan and the Epitomy. The other manuscripts have 'Simon*.

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listens impartially both to the missionaries of the gospel and their opponents is offered as a model for imitation. Although the significance which the compiler gives to the incident is clear, it is difficult to extract from it its historical core. As Judaism formally condemned magic, how far could a magician be considered to be an authentic representative of Judaism? The compiler may have described someone as a Jew who was not one.1 This is supported by the fact that Paul does not use scripture in his argument against him but confines himself to calling him a son of the devil and a corrupter of the ways of the Lord. In any case the compiler would seem to have given the incident a different significance from what it had in the original source.2 It exemplifies the compiler's theory that Paul's preaching was subject to constant and systematic opposition at the hands of the Jews. The incident also betrays a certain contradiction with the paragraph preceding it, which says, without mentioning any incident, that Barnabas and Paul crossed the whole of the island of Cyprus from Salais to Paphos preaching in the synagogues. From Cyprus the missionaries went to Antioch in Pisidia where on the Sabbath day Paul preached in the synagogue (xiii. 16-41). We are not told anything of the effect of the sermon; it is only said that they asked that 'these words might be preached to them the next Sabbath' (xiii. 42). This may well mean that, before the authorities gave Barnabas and Paul permission to speak, they wanted to take precautions and at any rate to gain time. We can find confirmation for this hypothesis in the fact that the sermon cannot possibly be Paul's but is the composition of the compiler of Acts.3 It is said that on leaving the synagogue many Jews went with Barnabas and Paul and listened to their exhortations. Paul's activity, therefore, at Antioch in Pisidia seems at the beginning to have been confined to the synagogue as it is reported that on the following Sabbath the whole town gathered together to hear the missionaries. On this occasion uproar broke out in the synagogue, marked by violent opposition from the Jews. This supports the hypothesis that on the previous Sabbath nothing happened except that the missionaries and the synagogue authorities made contact with each 1 This would explain the Arabic name according to the hypothesis of Grotius and Grimme. It may be that Elymas belonged to a gnostic syncretistic group. 2 This is one reason for thinking that it was not a complete invention. 3 For the reasons which prevent me from attributing the sermon to Paul see Introd. Ill, pp. 233 ff. The essential point is that in xiii. 31 it is said that only those who went up to Jerusalem with Jesus saw him after his resurrection. This is contrary to Paul's most explicit declarations.

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other and that the compiler completely changed the story of what happened by introducing into the scene a sermon of his own composition which did not belong to his source. This time when Paul 'proclaimed the word of God' the Jews in the presence of the crowd, whom we must assume listened with favour to the apostle's preaching, set about to contradict him and blaspheme against his words. It was not just the presence of the crowd and Jewish jealousy at Paul's apparent ascendancy over it which created the opposition now appearing. It was Paul's message. It must have shown itself as soon as they met each other. An inevitable rupture took place. Paul declared that the Word of God must first be addressed to the Jews but, as they rejected it and did not consider themselves worthy of eternal life, he was now going to address himself to the Gentiles (xiii. 44-49). Paul naturally always began his mission in the synagogue both for doctrinal reasons, because in principle the gospel was intended for the Jews first (Rom. i. 16), and for practical reasons, because the synagogue provided the missionaries with a platform ready to hand. He was also very soon excluded from it, at least where he did not leave it himself.1 But the story in Acts concerning Antioch in Pisidia seems to have been to some extent written up to meet certain a priori ideas. It hides the fact that the Apostle was from the beginning received with suspicion and that he did not wait to be hunted out of the synagogue before addressing himself both to Jews and Gentiles at the same time. Acts makes out that Jewish opposition at Antioch in Pisidia was not altogether doctrinal and religious but used tricks and manoeuvres to make the position of the Apostle difficult. The Jews made use of their influence with some women of high rank who were proselytes and some persons of importance and created a disturbance against Paul and Barnabas which is described as 'persecution'.2 Barnabas and Paul were pursued and wiping the dust off their feet went to Iconium. But the narrative .goes on to note that their work was not in vain; it says that the disciples3 were full of joy and the holy Spirit. It is all singularly confused and vague. We cannot tell if the missionaries were driven out or if, in face of growing 1

There are domestic reasons for this. The forms of service in the synagogue, even when the Jews were favourable, could find no place for certain essential elements of Christian worship such as baptism and the celebration of the supper of the Lord. 2 The Western text contains 'a great tribulation and a persecution'. 3 It means believers of Antioch in Pisidia. 473

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

opposition which was becoming threatening, they thought it preferable to depart. The words, 'they expelled them out of their country', would make one lean to the former interpretation, while the expression, 'they shook the dust off their feet' would favour the latter. There is, however, another possibility to be thought of: Paul and Barnabas may never have intended to stay long at Antioch in Pisidia but to depart because they were content to establish in the town a small Christian nucleus. The vague way in which their departure is mentioned would harmonise perfectly well with such an interpretation. Amongst the reasons which lead us to think that the compiler of Acts rewrote the narrative concerning Paul and Barnabas at Antioch in Pisidia as he found it in his source, there must be included the striking parallelism between what happened at Antioch and the subsequent events at Iconium (xiv. 2-7). There also many Greeks are converted. It is not said whether they were proselytes, although Paul is not deemed yet to have spoken outside the synagogue. The Jews who remained hostile stirred up the Greeks. The result was a combined attack on the part of the Jews, the Gentiles, and the Jewish authorities to injure the missionaries, who, foreseeing what was going to happen, took precautions and escaped to the towns of Lycaonia, Lystra, and Derbe, where they preached the gospel. The incoherence of this statement which mentions the towns together and the absence in the story of any concrete facts give the impression that the story has been constructed on the same plan and to illustrate the same ideas as the one concerning Antioch in Pisidia. At Lystra an impotent man is healed: the story offers disturbing analogies with the one reported in chapter ii. Such enthusiasm was raised that Barnabas and Paul were taken for Zeus and Hermes and had the greatest difficulty in preventing sacrifice being offered to them (xiv. 8-18). Without any transition, the situation changed completely. Jews who had come from Antioch and Iconium stirred up the crowd against Paul who was dragged out of the city, stoned, and left for dead. But he got up again, returned to the town and the next morning left for Derbe. Only one sentence mentions the evangelisation of Derbe (xiv. 1-2), after which it is said that the missionaries returned on their steps, passed back through Lystra, Iconium and Antioch, exhorting the brethren that through much tribulation they must enter the kingdom of God. At the same time they set up elders in each town (xiv. 21-23). No explanation is 474

REACTIONS OF THE JEWS

given as to how the missionaries could, without being disturbed, return through the towns from which a little time before they had been chased out with violence. Although the exhortation about the sufferings awaiting the believers hints at opposition to the gospel, it is not the kind of opposition which it is said the apostles have been facing. This is not just opposition directed at the missionaries but at all those who have been converted as well. The obscurities, incoherences, and even the contradictions to be found in the narrative of the first missionary journey show that the compiler's source for this part of his narrative was inferior to that which he goes on to use when he is recounting the evangelisation of Macedonia. At the most he seems to have had before him a bare itinerary which he has filled out with literary embellishments, combined perhaps with some incidents borrowed from an oral tradition which was already inaccurate and confused, the whole composition being dominated by his a priori conception of Jewish opposition to the preaching of the gospel. The story of the second missionary journey from Paul's arrival in Macedonia provides us with more solid ground. The compiler of Acts had for this an excellent source. Unfortunately he has not reproduced it as a whole but has made excisions and additions. He did this for two reasons. First of all the aim of the compiler, which was to show the progress of Christianity from Jerusalem to the ends of the world, was not that which the author of the source had in view. A companion of Paul, he was most probably the doctor Luke, who simply wanted to recount the apostle's missionary work. Secondly the compiler of Acts had a subsidiary end in view; he wanted his work to be an apology and to show that Christianity was nothing more than an extension of Judaism and remained loyal to the promises which were the core and foundation of the religion of Israel. Consequently, his argument ran, Christianity had the right to enjoy the privileged position in the empire which had been accorded to Judaism and therefore, if sometimes the Roman authorities denied it this right, they had allowed themselves to be deceived by Jewish intrigue. The story of Paul's activity at Philippi (xvi. 11-40) shows signs of having been abbreviated. The narrative assumes that Paul preached both to the Jews and Gentiles but it does not say how he came into contact with them. After narrating how Lydia, a seller of purple, a native of Thyatira, received Paul and Silas (xvi. 11-15) it is 475

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

the owners of a slave girl, whom Paul and Silas freed from an evil spirit, which had enabled her to practise the art of divination to the pecuniary advantage of her owners, brought the missionaries before the magistrates with an accusation which had nothing to do with the real reasons for their complaint. They accused them of being Jews who preached a way of life which Romans could not follow. The accusation is supported by the crowd, although it is not previously stated that they had been disturbed by the preaching of the gospel. What took place before the magistrates to whom the case was submitted is not reported. This suggests that the compiler did not wish to dwell on facts which failed to support his own preconceptions. All that is said, is that the magistrates had Paul and Silas scourged and put in prison.1 This shows that they were judged guilty on the charge that they were propagating a religio illicita* The author of Acts could not entirely pass over what happened at Philippi and did not wish to do so, but he at least wanted to play them down as much as possible; he does this by making out that the motive which set in train the proceedings in which Paul and Silas were involved was of a trivial nature, nothing more than the annoyance of the owners of the slave girl at their material interests being endangered. But the intervention of the crowd shows quite clearly that the motives behind the opposition were of a different kind, being in fact of a religious order. Nevertheless—and this ought to be underlined—the narrative shows clearly that the initiative in the opposition to Paul came not from the Jews but from the Gentiles. What happened afterwards at Thessalonica supports this conclusion. Although the source is not reproduced as a whole here, we can arrive at a fairly clear idea of what it described. After a note of a general kind about some proselytes and some of the better-class women being converted by a preaching in the synagogue (xvii. 1-4) the story relates the circumstances which led to the departure of Paul and Silas. The compiler has let fall what in his source referred 1

i Thess. ii. 2 confirms the fact that Paul was a victim of violence at Philippi. It is afterwards related that Paul and Silas were miraculously released during the night. This bears a striking analogy to the story of Peter's release in chapter xii. Chapter xii, it is certain, is the earlier composition, as Peter's release is effective, while Paul and Silas the next morning are back in prison. The piece is also shown to be an addition by the fact that, after reporting this, the narrative continues as if nothing had happened, with this addition that, when the magistrates knew that Paul and Silas were Roman citizens, i.e. that they had acted illegally towards them, they asked them to leave the town, although, before they knew this, they had without any ado given them back their liberty. 2

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to Paul's preaching to the Gentiles, as the first epistle to the Thessalonians makes it plain that the church at Thessalonica was principally composed of members of Gentile origin who had had to suffer at the hands of their Gentile fellow-citizens (ii. 14 f.). There is no reason for supposing that Paul is alluding only to things which happened after his departure from Thessalonica. This makes us think that the preaching to the Gentiles had created spontaneous opposition in which Jewish intrigue had no part at all. The narrative in Acts makes the Jews responsible for Paul's departure from Thessalonica, which would more accurately be called an expulsion. Jealous of his success they stirred up vagabonds who haunt public squares and sent them to attack the house of Jason, who had given Paul hospitality.1 As they failed to find the missionaries there, they dragged Jason and some of the brethren before the magistrates. The accusation levelled against them because they gave hospitality to Paul and Silas shows no sign of Jewish intervention. It is formulated in these words, 'These that have turned the world upside down are come hither also; whom Jason hath received: and these all do contrary to the decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king (basileus)2 one Jesus' (xvii. 5-7). There are two charges, (i) that Paul and Silas had transgressed a law of the empire, which can only be the one which forbids the propagation of strange religions which have not been adopted or ratified by the senate.3 (2) That they had proclaimed Jesus basileus, which can only mean one thing, i.e. that they were rebels against the lawful basileus, Caesar. They were therefore guilty of both the crime of lese-majesty on account of their religious illicit propaganda and the crime of high treason. All this is conceived from the Roman and not from the Jewish point of view. Plainly, it might be imagined that, in order to obtain the expulsion of the missionaries, which they thought desirable, the Jews might have advanced charges which did not interest them but which they knew were the sort that would make an impression on the Roman authorities. But in actual fact this explanation cannot be retained, as there is no allusion to any conflict between the missionaries and the synagogue, which the compiler would have had no reason to pass over in silence, 1 It is only in the course of the narrative that it is said that Jason was Paul's host. The fact that it is not stated explicitly shows that the source has been abridged. 2 The term basileus means both king and emperor. 3 Cicero (De legibus, ii. 8) mentions this law which was thought to go back to Numa. 'Nemo habesset deos sive novos, sive advenas nisipublice adscitos.' The punishment for transgression of this law was death.

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if he had found any mention of it in his source.1 The author seems then to have created the idea that the movement was created by professional agitators hired by the Jews to hide the fact that the preaching of the gospel at Thessalonica met with spontaneous opposition from Gentile public opinion. This is supported by the fact that the story of what happened at Thessalonica before the magistrates is abridged to such an extent that it has become incomprehensible and incoherent. The magistrates were as much impressed, it seems, by the accusation as by the attitude of the crowd, and after making Jason and those with him pay a deposit, sent them away. In the following night the brethren made Paul and Silas leave for Beroea (xvii. 8-10). The story seeks to give the impression that the initiative to get them away was taken by the brethren to appease their minds. But the caution money demanded by Jason must have guaranteed something, which could only have been the departure of men who had just been brought forward as the enemies of the emperor. Jason as their host was entrusted to see that they departed. Their departure then was not voluntary at all but was the result of a decree of expulsion.2 What happened afterwards at Beroea supports this interpretation (xvii. 11-15). Paul there, it is said, met with an experience at the hands of the Jews of a very different kind from that which he met at Philippi and Thessalonica. They received his preaching favourably because they took care to meet his teaching with statements from scripture. It is in such contrast with the a priori conceptions of the Jewish attitude towards the preaching of the gospel shown by the compiler of the Acts that this detail must be considered historical. No difficulties, it seems, must have occurred at Beroea, but the Jews of Thessalonica learning how Paul had been received, sent agents to create trouble there and compel Paul to depart. As soon as they learnt of this design the brethren of Beroea compelled Paul to depart for Athens. They made him leave then not just the town but the province even before they had had time to get a clear idea of the success which had attended the machinations of the Jews of Thessalonica.3 That they should have yielded to threats so 1

It must also be observed that even if the initiative came from the Jews the agitation would have come to nothing if it had not found support in public opinion. 2 The first epistle to the Thessalonians shows that Paul very much wanted to return to Thessalonica after he had been driven from there but had to give the idea up following the news which Silas and Timothy brought him at Corinth. 8 It should be remarked that the measure had only Paul in mind. It was possible for Silas to remain in Macedonia. Timothy whom Acts xvii. 15 says remained at

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quickly, although nothing had happened at Beroea, means that the danger must have been serious. It must therefore be supposed that it was sufficient for Paul's presence at Beroea to be known to the authorities to make his position dangerous. We may therefore infer that the apostle was not merely pursued from Thessalonica but was expelled from Macedonia with the result that it was illegal for him to be at Beroea. The inaccuracy of the whole story explains itself. The compiler wanted as far as possible to hide the fact that Paul's preaching met with such powerful opposition at the hands of the Gentiles that it succeeded in securing his expulsion from the province. The first epistle to the Thessalonians contains evidence confirming this. Paul does not confine himself to an allusion in i. 6 to the tribulations which accompanied the church's birth at Thessalonica but in ii. 14 f. draws a parallel between the Thessalonians and the Christians of Judaea by saying that the former had had to endure sufferings at the hands of their fellow-citizens comparable to those which the Christians of Judaea had had to endure at the hands of the Jews. This supports the idea that it was the Gentiles who took the initiative in measures against the Christians. In addition to what we learn from Acts the epistle shows us that sufferings came, not only to the preachers of the gospel, but also to those who had been converted. Paul came to Corinth after he had passed through Athens and undertook there a new enterprise in evangelisation when he recognised that it was impossible to return to Macedonia as he ardently desired. Affairs turned out very differently from what they had done at Philippi and Thessalonica. In accordance with his customary preconceptions, the compiler of Acts reports a rupture between Paul and the synagogue. On this occasion it seems as if it may have been Paul who took the initiative by going and settling in the house of the proselyte Titus Justus (xviii. 5-7). What we learn from the book of Acts concerning the evangelisation of Corinth is supplemented by information from the letters to the Corinthians. They show us that public opinion and the Gentile public authorities were not hostile to Paul's preaching and the infant church. But at Corinth an incident took place which, because it betrays both the attitude of the Jews towards Christians and Christianity's position in the empire, is of capital importance. It Beroea in reality went with Paul to Athens. Afterwards it was possible for him to return to Thessalonica (i Thess. iii. 2).

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refers to a charge which the Jews brought against Paul before Gallic, the proconsul of Achaia, who declined to accept it. We must examine the incident closer both because it is important and the author of Acts recognises it to be so. I shall not; return here to my note about the position of the story when I was dealing with the chronology of Paul's stay at Corinth and to my reasons for thinking that it has been displaced.1 In the earliest tradition the incident seemed to Paul so threatening that he thought of leaving Corinth. He only decided to stay after he had received a reassuring vision. Let us consider the incident itself. The Jews seized Paul and brought him before the court of Gallio, proconsul of Achaia; they declared2 that Paul preached a way of worshipping God 'contrary to the law' (irapa rov PO^OV). These words can be taken in two different senses, according as to whether it refers to the Roman law3 or the Jewish law,4 and also according as to whether it refers to the content of the preaching or the forms of worship. In the former case they meant that Paul violated the Roman law by preaching a religion which had not been authorised by the senate. In the latter it would mean that what Paul preached was not Judaism. But in either case, if the Jewish charge had been accepted, the practical consequences for Paul would have been the same: he would have been charged with having devoted himself to the propagation of an illicit religion and he would have been liable to capital punishment. The only difference would have been that in the former case the Jews would have formulated an accusation in their desire to secure the apostle's condemnation while in the latter case they would only have made a declaration to show that they had nothing to do with him. Without doubt, they would have reckoned that the proconsul would of his own accord take measures against him.5 Perhaps also they guessed or foresaw that sooner or later Paul's activities would lead him into a conflict with the state in which they wished to 1 2

See p. 22.

For the time being I am avoiding the question whether this was a formal accusation or something else. 3 Such is Zahn's and Preuschen's interpretation among others. Zahn, Einl. I, p. 191; Preuschen, Apgesch., p. 113. 4 This is the interpretation given by Wendt, Apgesch., p. 269; Johannes Weiss, Der erste Korintherbrief, Meyer, Goettingen, 1910, V, p. xiii; and Loisy, Actes, p. 700. 5 Such is, practically speaking, the interpretation given by Lake-Cadbury, Begin. IV, p. 227. Jacquier (Actes, p. 552) inclines in the same direction by saying that the word 'law* is used purposely in an ambiguous manner. 480

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avoid being implicated; that is why they would have solemnly and officially declared that what Paul preached was contrary to the law of Moses. It is difficult to make a definite pronouncement in favour of either of these interpretations at the price of completely excluding one, although in favour of the latter one it may be urged that it is difficult to suppose that the Jews even out of hatred for Paul would have posed as champions of the rights of the Gentile empire. On the other count, the way the incident developed favours the idea that the Jews meant by the law Jewish law. At any rate Gallio understood them to mean this. Without leaving Paul time to reply to his enemies Gallio declared that if they were complaining of some injustice or an act of violence he would listen to them with patience but if it was only a question of disputes about points of doctrine, names, and the law, these were things which were only of interest to Jews about which a Roman could not judge. Thereupon he left the judgement-seat. Gallio refused to consider the conflict between the Jews and the Christians anything except an internal dispute within Judaism.1 The way in which the affair ended justifies the interpretation that the law which the Jews invoked was their own. They did not formulate a direct accusation against Paul in proper form but made a declaration by which they showed that they had nothing to do with Paul. Gallio disregarded the declaration; he refused to make any distinction between Jews and Christians. In his eyes Christians remained Jews. It is easy to see the importance which the author of Acts attaches to the incident and the way in which it supports the main contention of his apologetic thesis. For him Gallio is the ideal type of the Roman magistrate who judges according to right without allowing himself to be influenced by Jewish intrigues and machinations. He recognised that Christianity must be treated as a religio licita. But just because the incident illustrates with such exactness a thesis which the compiler had every interest to prove true, we must ask ourselves if it is altogether historical and, if it was, did it have the precise significance which the author gives to it. 1

The story adds that they set about to beat Sosthenes, the chief of the synagogue, and that Gallio was unconcerned. The text does not show us who beat him, whether it was the Gentiles, whose latent antisemiticism was encouraged by the scornful way in which the procurator had just treated the Jews, or whether it was the Christians or even the Jews who reckoned him to blame for the rebuff they had received and accused him of having pleaded the Jewish case in too mild a fashion. If we identify him with the Sosthenes who is named as the companion author of

31

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Loisy1 discovered in the story a series of details which appear to him of improbable occurrence. He is astonished for instance by the way in which Gallio understood the respective positions of Paul and his opponents at the first glance without asking for any explanations. It also seems to him no less surprising that Gallio from the beginning assumed an attitude which conforms so precisely to the apologetic thesis of Acts. He also thinks that a Roman proconsul would not have acted with such nonchalance and would not have shown himself so completely indifferent to a charge of an illicit religion being propagated. The justice of Loisy's1 observations must be allowed to some extent at least but, all things considered, they are only relevant to the way in which the incident is described and not to the substance of the story. They may lead us to doubt if the Jews involved themselves in regular legal proceedings but they lose their significance, if, as we have seen, it is at least probable that they simply made a declaration to try and show that they had nothing to do with a form of propaganda which might possibly endanger their safety since it was in the synagogue where the affair began. Gallio showed, by refusing to be involved in an examination of the controversy between the Jews and Paul, that he was not taken in and that he well understood that the Jews had acted out of hostility to Paul, not out of love for Rome. Nevertheless his attention had been drawn to the propagation of Christianity and the Jews may have been afraid that, while he was not concerned as to what impression it made upon them, if he had anything to do with it in the future he would not show any special regard for them. Loisy's observations then have a bearing upon the way in which the incident is told but not upon its substance. It is perfectly natural that the compiler of Acts should have simplified and reshaped this incident to make it more impressive, because it had decisive importance for what he judged was the essential thesis his work was written to prove. the first epistle to the Corinthians, we may wonder whether he failed to make the Jewish accusation with any great firmness because he was already inclining to Christianity, or if the bad treatment which he received, supposing it to have come from the Jews, did not go some way to detaching him from the synagogue. It is much better to refrain from conjectures of this kind as we have not sufficient details to support them and to confine ourselves to the fact that a story which was a literary fiction would not have contained the ambiguities which mark this incident. 1 Loisy, Actes, pp. 700 ff. 482

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The fact that the chronological position of the incident has been changed also confirms the probability that it has been elaborated in a tendentious manner. The compiler separates the reassuring vision from the incident of the Jews accusing Paul. Originally the vision enabled Paul to avoid what would have been the consequences of their complaint. He also notes that after appearing before Gallio Paul remained some days at Corinth and left it entirely of his own free will. He does this because he wants to give the impression that the incident had no significance except to show that in this particular case the Jews' hatred for Paul was powerless. In reality, the affair was not perhaps of such little consequence to Paul as the compiler wants to try and make out. It may well have been that there were some irregularities. Perhaps Paul did not appear in person before Gallio and the Jews without him called on Gallio and complained. If this was so, Paul would have been aware of it but he would not have known for quite a long time what was going to be the end of it. It may have been then, when things were uncertain, that he thought of leaving Corinth. The action of the Jews of Corinth then put Paul in a very dangerous position. If they had been successful, he would have been condemned on a charge of having indulged in propagating an illicit religion.1 He would have broken the lex majestatis and have been liable to capital punishment. Even if their action had failed, of which one could not have been sure in advance, his position would have remained none the less anxious. At the very least a grave threat hung over the apostle. He could foresee that his enemies would not count themselves beaten but would try again. Another effort with better preparations might meet with success. In any case, the church could no longer find a temporary home in the synagogue as it had done at first. The compiler of Acts has then given the incident quite a different colour. He turned what was only a retreat on the part of Paul's enemies and perhaps only a partial and temporary retreat into a positive success for the apostle, while in reality it remained a threat which he had only escaped for the time being.2 To make this transformation he altered the position of the incident so that it ceases 1

Even if Paul had been considered to be a Jew, his preaching to the Gentiles might have exposed him to legal proceedings. The privileges granted to Jews allowed them to practise their religion but not to make propaganda in its favour. Cf. Juster, I, pp. 254 ff. 2 It would be wrong to suppose that Gallio by disallowing the Jewish complaint showed that he was tolerating any agitation or propaganda.

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to have any connection with the reassuring vision or with Paul's departure, with the result that it looks like an isolated incident in the story of Paul's activity at Corinth, which in fact it is not. As in Macedonia so in Corinth Jewish intrigues seem to have been especially directed against Paul alone. The epistles to the Corinthians contain no trace suggesting that possibly the Corinthian community had had to suffer at the hands of the Jews, although right up to the last moment they did not throw over the apostle. At the end of his stay in Greece, in the spring of 58, when he was on the point of embarking for Syria, he had at the last moment to change his itinerary and pass through Macedonia and Asia to avoid travelling with Jews, who had planned to make use of any incident which might arise in the course of the voyage, or, if need be, to create one, in order to kill him. The peculiar hostility with which he was regarded by the Jews, which they did not extend to the other Greek missionaries1 is explained by the fact that the complete volte-face which took place in his life and the arguments which he used to free Christianity from the Jewish ritual made Paul, in Jewish eyes, a renegade and an apostate.8 They wanted him personally; it was Paul they were trying to catch. It must not be supposed on that account that they showed real tolerance towards the other Greek missionaries but they were certainly less eager in fighting them, no doubt because unlike Paul they were more ready to compromise. Chapter iii of the epistle to the Philippians3 reveals one particular aspect of the Jewish attitude towards the Christian mission. It affords a violent polemic against enemies who must be external enemies as there is nothing said which would be likely to win them over or bring them back. As they are described as 'the false circumcision' in contrast to the Christians who are the true circumcision, i.e. who are the true people of God, they can only be Jews4 who 1 The fact that Silas could remain in Macedonia and that Timothy could return thither, although Paul was forbidden to enter the province, supports the idea that Jewish opposition was especially directed against Paul himself personally. 2 The Christians of Jerusalem in the same way thought that Paul was devoting himself to a systematic campaign in the diaspora to persuade Jews to give up the Mosaic customs and to stop circumcising their children (Acts xxi. 20-21). In reality Paul was only opposed to the law being imposed on Gentiles who had been converted, but not in any way to Christians of Jewish origin continuing to observe it. 8 It is reported to have happened at Philippi but it may perhaps have happened to some extent at Ephesus also, where the letter seems to us to have been written. But it is exceedingly probable that similar happenings took place elsewhere. 4 See Introd. IV, i, pp. 379 ff.

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were trying to bring into the synagogue Gentiles, whom Paul had converted from polytheism in order to bring them to the worship of the one true God. Perhaps the other Greek missionaries were not so violently attacked as Paul, because they resisted attempts like these with less ferocity. We have no direct information as to what opposition Paul may have encountered at Ephesus whether it was Jewish or Roman. The first epistle to the Corinthians (xv. 22, 32; xvi. 9) shows that his ministry in Asia formed a particularly rich and particularly difficult period of activity because of the difficulties which he met there.1 Ephesus was a centre where the most diverse philosophic and religious currents met and crossed, and controversy was heated; it is all the more curious that we know very little about the beginning of Christianity there, as later on from the end of the first century it was a metropolis of Christendom. The story of Acts telling of Paul in Asia is full of nothing but anecdotes.2 Perhaps we are not wrong in thinking that the compiler of Acts wanted to pass over in silence what happened at Ephesus because it was not favourable to his apologetic preconceptions. He then may have proceeded to fill in the resulting gap in his narrative by drawing on chance material. Those who consider that the epistle to the Philippians was written at Ephesus while Paul was in prison there, confirm this hypothesis in a remarkable way. According to Acts a rupture occurred between Paul and the synagogue where Paul had begun by teaching for three months, as had happened elsewhere. Owing to the calumnies of the Jews against his teaching he was compelled to leave them and set himself up in the school of Tyrannus which he rented and where he taught for two years (xix. 8-10). It is not altogether certain if, when he set up in the school of Tyrannus, that meant that he had made a complete break with the Jews.3 It naturally follows from the hypothesis which we have adopted concerning the composition of the epistle to the Philippians that it is the only document which gives us direct information on Paul's 1 It must be added that it appears frbm 2 Corinthians i. 8-n that Paul found himself in such danger in Asia that he despaired of life. 2 One of these anecdotes, that concerning the disturbance of the coppersmith Demetrius, seems originally to have had no connection with Christianity. In the source it was an anti-semitic outburst. 3 The text says in conclusion that thus all the inhabitants of Asia, Jews and Greeks, heard the word of the Lord (xix. 10) but it is not clear if this refers to the teaching given in the school of Tyrannus or to that given previously in the synagogue.

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position in Asia. Unfortunately, as it alludes to facts of which its readers were already aware, it is not easy to interpret its evidence in any assured fashion. But some points are exceedingly clear. Paul was in prison. Why he had been arrested and what proceedings were being taken against him may for a time have been shrouded in obscurity but at the time he was writing affairs had become clear; not only within the church but outside it was then known that he was not in prison on account of a crime or an offence of the common law but on account of the preaching of the gospel (i. 1^-13). The affair in any case was serious, the apostle had to envisage the possibility of being condemned to be put to death. Yet, in his efforts to forecast and prepare for the future he put on one side this possibility and foresaw a favourable end to his trial not from any impartial appreciation of the facts and of the circumstances but from considerations of his life-purpose; Paul foresaw his liberation because he considered that it would be advantageous to the work of evangelisation. He can have had no doubt on this point; the motive for his arrest and trial must be found in an accusation of propagating an illicit religion, but there is nothing which informs us or hints at or even allows us to suppose that the Jews were in any way responsible for this accusation being brought against the apostle.1 Much more delicate is the question of knowing what were the reactions of the church to Paul's arrest and what inferences may be drawn as to the character of the affair. O. Cullmann2 who, it is true, thinks that the epistle to the Philippians was written from Rome, is struck by the fact that where Clement of Rome is speaking of Peter and Paul concerning the attitude of certain preachers of the gospel towards Paul the terms jealousy, spirit, and strife (^fjXos 86vos) are used again and again as a kind of leitmotiv. This he thinks authorises him to assume that Paul's imprisonment was the result of intrigues and denunciations from enemies he had in the church, probably Jewish Christians. Various reasons prevent my sharing this opinion.3 To begin with, what Clement of Rome writes on the dire effects of jealousy and a quarrelling spirit is purely verbal and covers without hiding his almost 1 The fact that Acts does not mention any hostility shown by the Jews at Ephesus to Paul deserves to be noticed. 2 O. Cullmann, 'Les causes de la mort de Pierre et de Paul d'apres le t&noignage de Clement Romain', R.h.p.r., 1930, X, pp. 294-300. 8 Without mentioning the fact that, if the traditional idea that it was written at Rome is given up, it cannot be defended.

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complete ignorance of the history of Peter and Paul, beyond what the author could learn through reading Paul's epistles and the book of Acts. In addition, what is still more decisive, Paul mentions persons who have begun to preach the gospel on account of his imprisonment and his consequent inactivity. Amongst them are some whose motives for doing so were not pure but were moved by jealousy, a love of strife, and the thought of giving pain to the apostle while in prison. Two interpretations may be given of this. It may refer to people who were profiting by the inactivity to which Paul had been reduced and were trying to secure themselves a place in the church and gain influence at his expense. Or it may refer to people who are trying to substitute another doctrine in place of the gospel preached by Paul. The former of the two interpretations is certainly the one to be retained as Paul would have reacted much more violently to the preaching of another gospel.1 He is not referring to some form of doctrinal opposition which had gone so far that, in order to destroy his influence, it had denounced him before the Roman authorities. He is referring to a situation, which had only shown itself in the church after his arrest, or at any rate which only his arrest had disclosed because it brought to light the jealousies his authority had provoked. i. 13 if. shows that a certain interval of time had to elapse for the situation created by Paul's arrest to be cleared up and for it to be recognised that it was only his activity as an apostle which had caused his arrest. But in the interval others, even to the extent of two groups, had resumed the task of preaching, which was continued on sufferance after his arrest, and apparently these preachers did not have cause to suffer. This situation surprises us and we must try to analyse its character. Olaf Linton2 judiciously describes the problem, when he says that the question to determine is whether Paul's cause is synonymous with that of Christianity or not. They were synonymous in the eyes of those who began to preach in order to console Paul with the knowledge that the gospel continued to be preached in spite of his forced inactivity; they were not so in the eyes of those who were animated by a spirit of rivalry and were trying to create anxiety for 1 All the more because, if Paul had found others preaching a different gospel, he would not have explained it as due only to jealousy or a love of strife. In addition it cannot be supposed that those who began to preach at Ephesus laboured for the benefit of another gospel and that Paul knew nothing about it. 2 Olaf Linton, Zur Situation des Philipperbriefs in Arbeiten und Mitteillungen aus dem neutestamentlichen Seminar zu Uppsala, herausgegeben von A. Fridrichsen, 1936, IV, pp. 9-21. 487

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the apostle in prison. We must consider the problem in a wider context. It would seem odd that Paul can say, as he does in i. 14, that his chains, i.e. the example of his captivity have given confidence and encouragement to a new group of preachers of the gospel. Is this just one of those exaggerations which Paul often uses or must we give the terms precise significance and understand that, as the obscurities which enshrouded Paul's arrest and the beginning of his trial had evaporated, it was recognised that the circumstances surrounding the affair were seen to be such that it in no way directly threatened other preachers of the gospel? This might have been true if Paul was not imprisoned for preaching the gospel but for the way in which he preached it, or in more concrete terms, for offending the Jews by his preaching and setting them up against him. In other words, it may be that Jewish manoeuvres were the original cause of Paul's arrest at Ephesus so that he was arrested not because he was preaching the gospel but because he was the enemy of the Jews. The manoeuvre which failed before Gallic probably succeeded at Ephesus. The fact that in chapter iii Paul puts his readers on their guard against doctrines and not against the intrigues of enemies, among whom we think Jews must be classed, is not perhaps favourable to this interpretation, but it does not constitute a decisive objection.1 We must give up hope of being able to dissipate all the obscurities on this point. One thing at any rate is certain: although there was some confusion at the beginning as to the circumstances of the affair and time had to elapse before its real character was realised, it was an affair of extreme gravity. Condemnation to death was possible and it looks as if at one moment the apostle thought it so likely that he could think of himself as already present in the arena where the wild beasts were waiting for him (i Cor. xv. 32). When he was trying to weigh up the circumstances in which he found himself either then or some other time he 'had the sentence of death in himself', as he says in 2 Corinthians i. 9; when he had been set free he felt that God who raises the dead had snatched him from death (i. 9-10). One detail further must be noted concerning 'the trouble which came upon him in Asia'.1 Paul does not only say that God had snatched him from death; he adds that he places his hopes in God that he will yet deliver him in the future and, that to gain this deliverance, he is counting on 1

It may be noted on the contrary that the part played by the Jews of Asia at the time of Paul's arrest in Jerusalem (Acts xxi. 27) which is in other ways obscure to us perhaps reveals the memory of a conflict between Paul and Judaism in Asia.

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the prayers of the Corinthians (i. 10-11). It may be inferred from this that the danger to which Paul had been exposed had receded but had not disappeared and at any moment might break out again. This is in complete agreement with the position in which Christianity was placed from the moment it ceased to be identified with Judaism, i.e. a religion deprived of any legal status. 3.—PAUL S TRIAL

We come now to the last part of Paul's life and the long trial which began the day after his arrest at Jerusalem and was continued at Caesarea and Rome. How it ended we do not know. When Paul departed for Jerusalem he was well aware of the dangers to which he was exposing himself (Rom. xv. 30 f.). According to the story in Acts his apprehensions only assumed definite form in the course of his journey.1 He saw James on the day following his arrival, who advised him to take some precautions before he introduced him to the church on account of the thousands of Jews who had been converted, but were full of zeal for the law, to whom he had been made out to be a renegade and an apostate (xxi. 20-22).2 In accordance with his request Paul agreed to give public proof of his loyalty to Judaism by associating himself with a group of brethren, who were under obligation to discharge a vow but were unable to do so for lack of resources.3 Some people question the authenticity 1 The Acts describes Paul's journey to Jerusalem as a progress to punishment or at any rate to imprisonment. At Miletus the apostle summons the elders of the church to him and declares to them that they will not see his face again (xx. 25) and the conclusion repeats and emphasises this detail (xx. 38). At Tyre Paul meets disciples who try to dissuade him from the idea of going to Jerusalem (xxi. 4). At Caesarea the prophet Agabus bound his own hands and feet with Paul's girdle and predicted that the man to whom the girdle belonged would be thus bound at Jerusalem and the brethren, like those at Tyre, tried in vain to dissuade Paul from going to Jerusalem (xxi. 10-14). It is also typical, when we think of the early church's customs relating to hospitality, that, as xxi. 16 shows, they thought it necessary to secure Paul a lodging beforehand in Jerusalem at the house of a certain Mnason, whom from the fact that he was an early disciple and a Cypriot we recognise was a Hellenist. According to the text of ms. D Paul and his friends accepted Mnason's hospitality in a village between Caesarea and Jerusalem, where they passed the night. 2 The text of Acts shows that James did not judge Paul in this way but it does not make it plain that he did all he could to remove this prejudice against Paul. 3 To help a poor man to discharge a vow was deemed a meritorious act of charity (Josephus, A.j. xix. 6, i. Cf. Strack-Billerbeck, II, pp. 755 ff.). It has been suggested that the necessary money had been deducted previously from the collection (Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 283). To want to know where the money provided by Paul came from is to try to extract a detail from the documents at our disposal which from their nature they cannot supply.

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of this detail. Hausrath1 thinks it as difficult to suppose that Paul agreed to this as it would be to think of Luther vowing to go a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame of Einsiedeln or of Calvin on his death-bed promising a golden robe to the Mother of God. But Paul never taught that those who were of Jewish blood must cease to keep the law. It is possible, as many scholars do,2 to regard Paul's associating himself with a vow as historical without being obliged to share Kenan's view3 that, owing to the gravity of the situation, he relaxed his principles or Eduard Meyer's4 that he possessed such a rich and complex personality that his conduct was not always absolutely consistent and rigid. But the historicity of Paul's associating himself with a vow is very much open to question, because, when he was subsequently accused of profaning the temple, he did not defend himself by saying that he had been there for a ceremony of purification and prove it by calling as witnesses those with whom he had been associated.5 Paul's fears that the Jews at Jerusalem would show hostility to him had not long to wait before they were realised. Shortly after his arrival,6 as soon as he was found in the temple, Jews from Asia incited the crowd by accusing him of having profaned the temple by bringing Greeks into it.7 According to Acts this accusation in the beginning 1 Hausrath, Der Apostel Paulus, Heidelberg, 1872, p. 433. Similar opinions have often been expressed. 8 Schurer, Th. Ltzg., 1882, col. 348; Wendt, Apgsch., p. 304; Harnack, Neue Untersuchungen zur Apostelgeschichte undzur Abjassungszeit der synoptishen Evangelien, Leipzig, 1911, pp. 54 ff.; Johannes Weiss, Urchrist., p. 223. 8 Renan, Saint Paul, pp. 517 f. 4 Eduard Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, pp. 65, 71. 5 Eduard Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 70, n. 3) thought that he found an allusion to the vow in xxiv. 18 where Paul says that they found him purifying himself in the temple. But purifications could be undertaken for other purposes besides the accomplishment of a vow. e Doubtless on the fifteenth day. Cf. Introd. IV, 2, p. 367, n. i. 7 The Romans gave the Jews the right to punish any non-Jew with death, even if he was a Roman citizen, who entered the temple (Josephus, G.j. vi. 2, 4; A.j. xv. u, 15). The court of the temple was surrounded with a railing along the whole length of which was inscribed a notice in Greek and Latin saying that any stranger who crossed the boundary mark was responsible for his own death. One of these inscriptions was discovered in 1871 by Clermont-Canneau ('Une stele du Temple de Jerusalem', Rev. archeol., 1872, I, pp. 214-234, 290-291, pi. X). The text of it has often been reproduced since (e.g. Dittenberger, O.G.I.S.2, II, 598). It is preserved in the museum at Constantinople. Another example of the inscription has been found at Jerusalem in the district of the gate of the Brebis (The Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities in Palestine, 1936, VI, pp. 1-3). Jewish jurisdiction seems to have been competent to deal with any case where the law was broken but there is no doubt that this did not exclude completely the supervision of the Roman authority. Cf. Schurer, Gesch. II, pp. 209 f., 272; Juster, II, pp. 142 f.; Strack-Billerbeck, II, pp. 761 ff. 490

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had been due to a misunderstanding. Paul had been seen in the streets of Jerusalem in the company of an uncircumcised Gentile who was a convert to the gospel, Trophimus from Ephesus, and they thought or perhaps imagined that he had gone into the temple with him. In the ensuing riot Paul would have been killed, if the tribune had not intervened, who with his soldiers left the fortress Antonia from which he watched the temple and arrested him (xxi. 27-34). The mistake concerning Trophimus which is mentioned in the book of Acts is only a fiction to hide the real character of the affair. If Trophimus took any part at all, why did not the populace direct their fury on to him also? The so-called profanation of the temple by the Greeks with Paul as the accomplice is not mentioned when the tribune sends Paul to the Sanhedrin for investigation (xxii. 30xxxii.n) nor in the report which he makes to the procurator Felix (xxiii. 26-30). When the orator Tertullus, the spokesman of the Jews, makes his speech before Felix, he says that Paul had tried to profane the temple but he does not say precisely how (xxiv. 6). Paul in his reply ignores the accusation that he had caused Gentiles to enter the temple; he remarks on the failure of the Asiatic Jews to appear who ought to have given evidence against him. What Acts makes out to have been the cause of Paul's arrest plays no part in his trial. There is certainly something wrong here. Acts xxi. 21 shows that the Jews considered Paul an apostate who was leading a campaign in the diaspora to persuade Jews to give up the customs of Moses and to cease having their children circumcised.1 The compiler of Acts failed to realise that the presence of Paul himself in the temple seemed to be a profanation; through his apostasy it was thought that he had lost his status as a Jew with the right to cross the line marking off that part of the court accessible to the Gentiles. The story told in Acts of Paul's trial is stocked with later additions the historicity of which must be accepted with some caution.2 Almost all of them tend to establish and underline the thesis dear to the author that Christians are still Jews.3 Generally speaking, he has 1

According to xxi. 28 the Jews from Asia who had created the incident in the temple described Paul as 'the man that teacheth all men everywhere against the people, and the law, and this place (the temple)'. 2 Wendland, Urchr., Litf., pp. 323 f. 3 This is what makes some people think that the book of Acts was composed as a defence for Paul in the course of his Roman trial. It is the old theory of Aberle ('Ueber den Zweck der Apostelgeschichte', Tub. Quartschr., 1855, XXVII, pp. 173-266; 'Ueber die Epochen der neutestamentlichen Geschichtsschreibung', ibid.,

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made the whole story obscure and on some points almost unintelligible, because he failed to understand that the trial revolved entirely round this question: must Paul, although he had the status of a Roman citizen, be judged by the Sanhedrin on the ground that he had profaned the temple by entering it when he was an apostate or must he be thought to be still a Jew in spite of his attitude in preaching the gospel to the Gentiles?1 After the tribune had arrested Paul2 he proceeded to make investigations on his own responsibility. Using the simple and brutal methods of the Roman police, he had the accused beaten until Paul declared his status as a Roman citizen (xxii. 24-29). By doing this he not only escaped the blows of the whip but placed himself under the protection of Rome (xxii. 24-29).3 If he had been an alien one of two things might have followed. If he had been thought guilty of sedition on account of the riot which he had occasioned, the Roman authorities represented by the tribune would have been competent to have taken cognisance of it, unless the procurator had intervened personally because he thought the affair ought to be moved to his jurisdiction. If it was thought to be a religious offence, Paul could have been tried by the Sanhedrin subject to the sentence being ratified by the procurator, if it was a sentence of death. As Paul was 1863, XLV, pp. 84-98). A similar theory in a less blatant form was set out more recently by F. J. Jackson and K. Lake in Begin. II, pp. 179 ff. A hypothesis of a similar kind was defended by Riddle ('The occasion of Luke Acts', Journ. of Religion, 1930, X, pp. 545-563) with this particular suggestion that Luke wrote when the ftrst symptoms of Domitian's persecutions appeared. This is a very bold hypothesis because, as we shall see later (p. 529), Christians found their connection with Judaism more compromising than helpful in Domitian's time. 1 The fundamental work on Paul's trial is still that of Mommsen, 'Die Rechtsverhaltnisse des Apostels Paulus,' Z.N.T.W., 1901, II, pp. 81-96 (reproduced in Gesamulte Schriften III, pp. 431 ff.). See also V. Weber, Die Glaubwurdigheit der Apostelsgeschichte und ihr Kritiker Th. Mommsen, Katholik, 1902, pp. i-n; Holzmeister, 'Der heilige Paulus vor dem Richterstuhle des Festus', Z. f. kath. Theol., 1912, XXXVI, pp. 489-511, 742-783; L. V. Velhoen, 'Het Proces van den Apostel Paulus', Alphen a.d. Rejn. 1924; E. Springer, 'Der Prozess des Apostels Paulus', Preussische Jahrbucher, 1929, CCXVIII, pp. 182-196; H. J. Cadbury, 'Roman law and the trial of Paul', in Begin. V, pp. 297-338. 2 According to Acts xxi. 35 ff. when Paul was on the steps of the fortress Antonia with the soldiers who had brought him thither, he made a speech to the Jews with the permission of the tribune in which he narrated his conversion. It is inconceivable that this could have happened in the midst of the confusion of which the author speaks. 8 It is striking that Acts xvi. 22 does not say that Paul declared his Roman citizenship at Philippi to avoid scourging as he did at Jerusalem. The reason certainly is that he did not want to separate himself from his people. The situation had changed at Jerusalem where the rupture had already been consummated and consequently Paul had no need to think of them any longer.

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recognised to be a Roman citizen, things took a different course. If the charge of sedition had been retained, only the procurator could have tried the case but there is no reference in the whole story to an accusation of this kind. Paul as a Roman citizen and charged with profaning the temple could only be handed over to the Jewish authorities for trial provided the charge was properly founded. This implies that as the charge of having brought a Gentile into the temple was apparently not maintained and not even ever brought, the whole trial revolved round Paul's apostasy. The question to be resolved was whether Paul's faith as a Christian and his missionary activity among the Gentiles deprived him of his rights as a Jew. The whole trial then is concerned with Paul's religious position. Felix had to decide whether he was an orthodox proper Jew. It is hardly surprising that he shrank from doing it and began to allow the affair to drag on. Once the tribune discovered that Paul was a Roman citizen he could do nothing but refer the business to the procurator giving him what information he had been able to gather. The compiler of Acts did not understand this, and in order to explain Paul's removal to Caesarea imagined that the tribune had had to take extraordinary precautions to protect his prisoner from an attempt by the Jews to assassinate him (xxiii. 12-38). Once Paul was snatched from the Jews' hands they demanded that he should be referred to the Sanhedrin. They appeared at the trial as prosecutors, not as witnesses. The compiler of Acts may well have narrated the story of the appearance before the Sanhedrin for investigation (xxii. 3O-xxiii. lo)1 in place of the steps taken by Jewish authorities. The trial began some days after Paul had been brought to Caesarea.2 The high priest came into court with some other priests and a lawyer Tertullus who put forward the Jewish demand. Taul was "a pest",'3 he said, 'and a mover of sedition among all the Jews 1 But Wellhausen (Krit. An., A.G., 1914, p. 47) and others think this appearance historical. The hypothesis is plausible but the story of the incident cannot in any case be held to be accurate. It makes the question one of the hope of the resurrection while the debate revolved round Paul's attitude towards the law. 2 The tribune certainly had to report to Felix. In spite of Zahn's opinion (Einl. II, p. 400) the text given in Acts xxiii. 26-30 is suspect of being an editorial element. Nevertheless it corresponds fairly well to the situation as the tribune declared that he had taken nothing out of Paul's charge sheet and expresses the idea that the complaints of the Jews against Paul were on questions about the interpretation of the law. In any case—and this is an important point—Paul never seems to have been prosecuted officially but only at the request of the Jews. 3 Wendt (Apgesch.t p. 323) and Loisy (Actes, p. 852) noted that the term 'pest' (\oin6s) may be an allusion to the Senate's decree concerning the alliance between Rome and Simon Maccabee which enjoined the neighbouring states to deliver up

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

throughout the world and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes. He has tried to profane the temple and for that reason has been arrested. The Jews would have judged him according to their law, but the tribune Lysias came and took him away from their hands and commanded his accusers to come before the procurator. If the tribune is questioned, he will not fail to confirm that this is so* (xxiv. I-8).1 In his reply Paul declared that he had never caused any trouble at Jerusalem and challenged his enemies to prove the contrary. He then touched on the complaint brought against him by the Jews, that he had disturbed the synagogues of the diaspora. He did not deny that he belonged to what the Jews called *a heresy'2 but as far as that was concerned he had only remained faithful to the Jewish hope that there will be a resurrection of the dead, both just and unjust. After being absent for many years he came to Jerusalem to bring alms to his nation.3 Jews from Asia who had seen him go into the temple for purifications had nothing to accuse him of as they had not appeared before the procurator (xxiv. 10-21). There is no explicit mention of the charge of profaning the temple. The whole purpose of Paul's speech was to prove that he was not an unfaithful Jew. After the two parties had been heard the procurator adjourned giving judgement, until the tribune Lysias arrived.4 Paul waited in prison. His imprisonment was to some extent mitigated by the fact that he was allowed to receive ministrations from his friends (xxiv. 22-23). The compiler of Acts fails to give any distinct reasons why the affair was allowed to drag on.5 Felix was very embarrassed. He to the high priest the 'pests' who had fled from Judaea to be judged according to the law (i Mace. v. 21). 1 The text of the end of Tertullus' harangue is uncertain. I have analysed the received text, although it is only found in ^f E. 69. 114 and some other manuscripts. The evidence of D. fails at this passage. In the majority of the manuscripts it is said that the Jews wished to try Paul but the tribune prevented them and that the procurator was asked to question the tribune to convince himself that the Jewish accusations were well-founded. The short text is given by the great majority of the editors and adopted by many critics (e.g. Wendt. Apgesch., p. 372; Lake-Cadbury, Begin. IV, pp. 299 f.). The long text is only given in the two editions of Blass but it is adopted by several critics among others by Loisy (Actes, p. 853). In favour of the long text it may be remarked that in xxiv. 22 Felix declares that he will give sentence when the tribune comes. The short text might have had its origin in some lines being missed out. 2 His arrival is not again referred to. 8 This is the only allusion in Acts to the affair of the collection. It is in other 4 respects fairly vague. His coming will not be in contemplation. 6 In xxiv. 25-26 he gives several reasons which are plainly only conjectures on his part. Felix was impressed by Paul's speech and kept him at his disposal in order that he might have an opportunity of treating with him or he hoped that Paul would give him money to obtain his liberty.

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shrank from handing over a Roman citizen to the Jews and at the same time he wanted to satisfy them and possibly thought that their request was not unreasonable, as after all, the Jews might seem better qualified than anyone else to decide if Paul was still a Jew or not. The apostle's captivity lasted two years1 when Felix was recalled. Acts says that to please the Jews he left Paul in prison and handed on to his successor the task of making a decision on the affair (xxiv. 27); but the moment he failed to pass judgement he could not do otherwise. It is not said that Paul's enemies made any move to obtain a decision during the two years he passed in prison at Caesarea. Perhaps they were satisfied with knowing that their enemy had been made powerless and hesitated to try and obtain a decision which might prove unfavourable to them. They did not observe the same reserve towards Festus, either because they hoped that the new procurator would be inclined to conciliate his subjects or because they feared that, if they did not renew their plaint, they would be judged to have abandoned it. When Festus arrived at Jerusalem they requested him to have Paul transferred to them (xxv. 1-3). The compiler of Acts seems to have misunderstood the purpose of the Jews' request. His explanation is that they intended to assassinate Paul in the course of his journey from Caesarea to Jerusalem.2 Probably the request was similar to that presented to Felix two years previously asking for Paul to be handed over to the Sanhedrin to be tried by it. Festus rejected this request and summoned those who had formulated it to appear before his court at Caesarea (xxv. 4-5). This did not constitute the final formality of rejection, but a return to regular procedure. The audience to which Festus had summoned the Jews took place the day after his arrival at Caesarea. The account given of it in Acts is brief and vague. This may be because the compiler did not wish to give too accurate an account of a phase of the trial which was more unfavourable to Paul than he liked to recognise. The Jews brought against Paul many grave accusations, but their nature is not defined. The only thing said, which is hardly more than 1

Concerning an interpretation which would make the two years begin not at the beginning of Paul's imprisonment but at the beginning of Felix's term of office see my 'Essai sur la chronologic paulinienne', R.h.r., 1912, LXV, p. 329. 2 The same explanation was given for Paul's transfer from Jerusalem to Caesarea.

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one of the compiler's tricks of style, is that the Jews were unable to prove their charges and that Paul energetically defended himself saying that he had done nothing against the law of the Jews, the temple, or Caesar (xxv. 6-8). The mention of Caesar deserves attention. Up to then not the slightest allusion in all that had been said of the trial had been made to anything brought against Paul which might be considered a crime or offence from the Roman point of view. Only his position in respect of Judaism had been under consideration. We shall see a little later on that Paul's trial certainly changed in character at Rome or rather to the question of jurisdiction was added a trial of fact. In other words, the question, 'must Paul be handed over to the Sanhedrin on the ground of having profaned the temple?' there came to be added or substituted for it another question, 'Was he guilty of a crime punishable by the Roman law', either of having devoted himself to propagating an illicit religion or of having disturbed public order by occasioning divisions in the synagogues and the resulting agitation?' Must then Paul's declaration that he had committed no crime against Caesar be seen as a proof that early on at Caesarea the Roman plaint was added to the Jewish one or has the compiler anticipated what could only have happened later at Rome? We cannot say with certainty which is right; we must be content with observing that, if the procurator had had the impression that serious charges from the Roman point of view could be brought against Paul, he would not have shown himself disposed to give satisfaction to the Jews' request and allow them the right to try him. The arguments put forward by Paul's enemies must have given the procurator Festus the impression that they were not entirely without foundation, as he took a decision, which in spite of the way in which it is cloaked in Acts was favourable to them. What it was is not clearly expressed in the narrative either because the compiler did not clearly understand the juridical character of what took place or because he wanted to diminish the significance of Festus' decision or for both reasons. According to his story the procurator had proposed to Paul that he should go up to Jerusalem to be tried there by him (xxv. 9). Simply to change the place of trial did not need the consent of the accused. The legal place for the court was where the procurator happened to be. It must then be understood that Festus' decision against which Paul protested was different in character. Festus gave the Jews what they asked for, i.e. he decided that the accused would be tried at Jerusalem by the Sanhedrin: he only gave 496

REACTIONS OF THE JEWS

the accused this guarantee that the trial would take place in his presence. In other words he would see that it was regular. It could hardly be thought a friendly proposal which Paul could either accept or reject. Paul had just passed two years in prison because he denied the competence of the Sanhedrin in this affair. How could the procurator have imagined that he was now going to accept it of his own free will? Festus' decision did not then have the character the compiler gave to it. It gave the Jews satisfaction while at the same time it tried to give Paul some measure of safety. If it had been an offer which Paul was free to accept or reject, would Paul have had recourse to an appeal to the Emperor in order to avoid trial at Jerusalem,1 in spite of the risks of such procedure and the inevitable prolongation of his captivity which would be the first thing that would happen? After Festus had taken the advice of his counsel he could only acknowledge that Paul had made use of a right which belonged to him and deliver a certificate of his appeal by deciding that he should be sent to Rome2 (xxv. 10-12). It was Festus' decision on the question of competence which determined Paul to appeal to the imperial court. If it had given the same decision as Festus, Paul would have had to be taken back to Jerusalem to be brought before the Sanhedrin which would have had to try him. Paul, however, in any case, was not sent back to Jerusalem. According to Acts xxviii. 21 the Jews apparently did not take their complaint to Rome. But that did not mean that the trial was abandoned.3 There is no positive evidence that Paul was set free at the end of his term of imprisonment at Rome. That can only be explained by supposing that when the imperial magistrates came to examine Paul's affair they decided that his activities as a preacher came within the scope of the law and that he had caused disturbances in various places. On his arrival at Rome Paul must have been delivered up to the officer who commanded the frumentarii and maintained communications between the supreme authority and the detachments stationed 1 There has been much discussion on the question whether Paul himself made provocatio^ i.e. a request to be tried by the emperor's court, a right which was given to Roman citizens by the lex Julia de vi publica et privata (Paulus, Sent., 5, 26; cf. Mommsen, Strafrecht> pp. 66 f., 242; Staatsrecht, II, 2, pp. 908 f.) or Appelatio, a request to obtain a revision of a judgement. See J. Merkel, Ueber die Geschichte der dassischen Appelatio, Halle, 1883. 2 The phrase used in xxv. 10, 'I stand at Caesar's judgement seat, where I ought to be judged', exactly sums up the situation. 8 In spite of Lake's opinion, 'The end of Paul's trial in Rome', Teyler's Tijdschr., 1912, XLVII, pp. 356-365.

32

497

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 1

in the provinces. He obtained permission while waiting for his trial to live in a private house rented by him with a soldier in charge of him (xxviii. 16). This lasted for two years (xxviii. 30). The two years forms the end of Acts but we are not told how it ended or for what reasons.2 This is probably because the trial was about to enter on a more active phase. As for the result of the trial we are reduced to guessing. The traditional hypothesis, which everyone who considers the pastoral epistles authentic3 must hold, is that Paul regained his freedom either when the Jews gave up their case or through a favourable decision from the court. A fresh period of activity would then have opened for him.4 Then he must have been imprisoned afresh and this time condemned to die and he must have died a martyr's death. If the authenticity of the pastoral epistles is given up, all this becomes a castle in the air; most scholars who do not feel bound by the tradition give up altogether the idea of a second captivity.5 Some fragments from the pastoral epistles which seem to be from notes written by Paul while he was a prisoner at Caesarea and Rome6 compensate in a small measure for the absence of any direct evidence. The most detailed of these (2 Tim. i. 16-18), which is especially important because it shows how indifferent the church at Rome was towards the apostle while he was a prisoner, only informs us that at a given moment about the time when the story in Acts ends or a little later Paul must have been transferred to a prison. This authorises 1 Mommsen and Harnack, Zur Apostelageschichte, 28, 16, S.B.A., 1895, pp. 491 ff. Paul's transfer to the stratopedarchus is mentioned by A.B. and some other manuscripts. It is difficult to decide which text ought to be considered the earliest. 2 Concerning the hypotheses which have been made to explain the abrupt and plainly unsatisfactory character of the end of Acts see Introd. Ill, pp. 326 ff. The most likely is that the author intended to write a third volume in which he would have told of Paul's trial at Rome and perhaps also of his death and that circumstances prevented him from fulfilling his intentions. 8 For the reasons why I think they are not authentic see Introd. IV, 2, pp. 504 ff. 4 Some of the scholars who suppose that Paul was liberated think that he returned to the East, which is what the pastoral epistles seem to postulate. Others (e.g. Harnack, Mission, II, p. 92, n. 2) suppose that he turned to Spain and took up the project which he entertained at the time he was writing to the Romans. Others (J. Zeiller, ?• 9' Cf. Mommsen, Strafrecht, p. 569. Eduard Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 518. 6 Tertullian uses a series of terms equivalent to crimen laesae majestatis, e.g. crimen laesae romanae religionis, crimen laesae divinitatis, sacrilegium, crimen majestatis imperatorum. 2

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that the atheism of the Christians incensed the gods and ran the risk of bringing down their wrath. Public opinion brought pressure to bear on the magistrates and compelled them to be severe with the Christians.1 Tertullian wrote, 'They look on the Christians as the cause of every public disaster and every national misfortune. Has the Tiber overflowed into the City? Has the Nile flooded the countryside? Has the weather remained unchanged? Has there been an earthquake? Have plague and famine appeared? Then the cry goes up, "Christians to the lions".'2 Harnack3 thinks that the statement of the Apologists that the nomen was punishable with death can only be retained if it is understood that the nomen implied refusal to sacrifice to the gods so that a man who bore the nomen placed himself beyond the pale of society and became a hostis publicus. There was no need for the non licet essex Christianos to be officially proclaimed to make prosecutions of Christians possible. Mommsen4 described the situation in these words, 'In fact proceedings against Christians were as constant as against brigands but they varied in degree. Sometimes they were conducted with mild indifference, at other times with severity*. Commenting on this Eduard Meyer5 writes, 'The punishment of Christians was a result of the common conception of the state to which the Christians were irreconcilably opposed. Fresh arrangements were not necessary, but proceedings could be taken whenever a case of Christian profession came to the notice of the authorities.' By their whole attitude Christians attacked in a systematic way what in ancient societies was one of the essential prerogatives of the state, i.e. the right to dictate to all that they must participate in the national religion. Between Christianity and the Roman Empire conflict was fatal. Two conceptions of religion diametrically opposed and irreconcilable clashed. When Christians were accused of rebellion what form of proceedings were taken?6 There might be regular proceedings with a 1

Klette, p. 90. Tertullian, Apol. 40. Cf. Ad nationes, i. 9. Possibly as we shall see later, it was because the impiety of the Christians had drawn upon the city the anger of the gods, that they were held responsible for the fire of the city. 3 4 Harnack, Mission, I, p. 458. Mommsen, Rom. Gesch. V, p. 523. 6 Eduard Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 512. ' A good article on the question will be found in Angar, Die Frau im romischen Christen prozesse, Leipzig, 1905, pp. 59 ff. 2

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

prosecution, denunciations, evidence from witnesses, pleadings, etc., but there was also a speedier method at hand which consisted of a police-court trial. The magistrates had both the right of judicial investigation (judicatio) and that of immediate punishment (coercitio). The line between the two possible procedures was not always very clearly drawn. In the majority of cases the magistrate himself chose which to follow. Mommsen thinks that the procedure of coercitio was the one most often followed.1 Ecclesiastical tradition has certainly exaggerated, especially for the early period, the number of martyrs.2 Except in 64 at Rome and in 177 at Lyon and Vienne up to a little before the middle of the third century, the number of the victims of persecutions was relatively small. Origen definitely says that the number of the martyrs was not very great and could easily be counted.3 But the Christians lived in a state of perpetual insecurity. The threat of proceedings was constantly suspended over their heads like a sword of Damocles. The least incident or the vaguest of denunciations could start proceedings and create torments. 3.—THE MASSACRE OF CHRISTIANS AT ROME IN 64

The earliest text referring to the massacres of Christians which followed the fire at Rome in 64 is a passage from Clement of Rome which was written about 96. After enumerating the evils caused by jealousy and quarrelsomeness, Clement writes as follows, 'To these men4 with their holy lives was gathered a great multitude of the chosen, who were the victims of jealousy and offered among us the fairest example in their endurance under many indignities and tortures. Through jealousy women were persecuted as Danaids and Dircae,5 suffering terrible and unholy indignities; they steadfastly 1 Mommsen, Strafrecht, p. 410. Angar (Die Frau, pp. 65 ff.) adopts Mommsen *s conclusion but thinks that summary proceedings were only adopted after they had been regularised through regular trials. But neither the text of Tacitus nor that of Pliny hint at such trials. 2 Harnack, Mission, I, pp. 460 ff.; Bouche-Leclercq, p. 145. Bouche-Leclercq certainly goes too far in his reaction agajnst current ideas. It can scarcely be understood how a historian of his class can write, 'Tradition really only knows of two martyrs, Peter crucified and Paul beheaded* (p. 146). This sentence is quite out of harmony with what one reads on the preceding page. 8 Origen, C. Celsum, iii. 8. 4 No information of any value about the martyrdoms of Peter and Paul can be drawn from what Clement says about the two apostles. 5 Lightfoot (I, 2, pp. 32 f.) suggests that the text is corrupt and proposes to correct it into ywauc€s, veowSes, TraiStWai (Women, young girls, slaves). This correction is unnecessary. We know (Martial, Epigr. 7, 8, 16, 21; Tertullian, Apol.

5*°

CHRISTIANITY AND ROMAN EMPIRE

finished the course of faith, and received a noble reward, weak in the body though they were' (vi. 1-2). There is no doubt that Clement is referring in general terms to the massacres which followed the fire at Rome. There is a very significant coincidence between what he says of Danaids and Dircae and what Tacitus tells us of the theatrical display of the victims.1 What is still more striking is that Clement speaks of a 7rXf)9os (a large number). The phrase is too reminiscent of Tacitus' expression multitude ingens for the coincidence to be fortuitous.2 The number of victims was certainly large but it is impossible to estimate the exact number. Klette3 thinks that victims were counted in hundreds; this is not impossible, especially if, as seems probable, the games lasted for several days.4 But the same author and others go too far in thinking that the Roman community was wiped out and that a completely new church was set up afterwards in its place.5 Clement's explanation 15; cf. Friedlander, Sittengeschichte Romsy I/6, pp. 412 ff. Knopf, Lehre der s. Ap. Z.y Clembr.y pp. 53 f.) that the Romans made free use of condemned persons for theatrical representations in which they were compelled to play the part of some mythological hero who met with a cruel fate and no consideration was given to feminine modesty. It is easy to imagine the representation of the Dircae, women bound naked to the horns of a mad bull. It is more difficult to imagine with any clarity what the representation of the Danaids was like. But that does not authorise us as M. Dibelius thinks (R.u.d.Chr.y p. 24) to reckon that Clement is only referring to images when he speaks of Dircae and Danaids. Tacitus also alludes to this kind of treatment being inflicted on Christian men and women. On this the highly coloured and brilliant pages of Renan must be read, LyAntichrist, pp. 163-181. The epistle to the Hebrews (x. 32-34) recalling the conflicts of former times refers to outrages and sufferings imposed on Christians and uses the expression flearptfo/icvoi. There is no doubt that we have here an echo of the theatrical spectacle which Nero made of the executions of Christians. Cf. Dibelius, R.u.d.Chr.y p. 15, n. i. 1 The fact that Clement offers the example of the apostles Peter and Paul and of the victims of Nero as belonging to 'our generation', although they took place thirty years before he wrote, cannot be considered a difficulty. The term 'our generation* is used in reference to examples borrowed from the Old Testament (from Abel to David). Irenaeus (Haer. v. 30, 3) writing about 190 says that John had had his revelation a short time before almost in our generation and that the Canon of Muratori, written half a century perhaps after the Shepherd of Hermas, says that this book had been written nuperimme, temporibus nostris. 2 The coincidence is still more striking in as much as any direct contact between the two is out of the question. Clement and Tacitus must have used the same source. 8 Klette, p. 30. 4 Klette (p. 125), referring to Friedlander, Sittengeschichte Roms. //, p. 272, thinks that the games lasted sixteen days from the 4th to the igth September. 6 Klette (pp. 30 f.) is led to this conclusion by the fact that Clement has written n6\v TrXifios ^icAeicroiv and not iroXv irXfjOos 'Tj/Wrepcov. He presses the sense of the words too far for even if the community had been completely reconstituted after being wiped out in 64 it would have had the feeling that it was connected with what had been destroyed. Does not Clement say somewhere else that the

5"

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

that jealousy caused the massacres has led many scholars to think that the Christians were denounced by Jews.1 Others like BoucheLeclercq2 think that the Christians were divided between themselves and denounced each other. This is drawing an inference from one word which might be only a simple literary stereotyped phrase belonging to a rhetorical scheme into which the reported facts failed to fit. To find seven recent examples as had to be done to correspond to the seven examples which he had borrowed from the Old Testament, Clement was obliged to have recourse to certain artifices. First, he made a distinction between the 'pillars', i.e. the apostles in general and Peter and Paul, who were the only two apostles of whom he knew anything or thought he knew. Then he separates the immense crowd of victims in 64 and the Danaids and the Dircae, who it is certain in fact were some of the victims in 64, and in order to make up the number seven which he wanted to do, he was further compelled to introduce two pieces to fill up, one on marriages broken by jealousy and another on towns and people whose ruin had been caused by jealousy. Clement does not write one word to show any connection between the massacres to which he alludes and the fire at Rome which he does not mention. That he does not claim to be giving an account of the events of 64 has no significance. Taken altogether his evidence amounts to very little and if we only had his text we should not know to what it refers. Tacitus' account in book xv of the Annales gives a more accurate and detailed account, although it was written fifteen years after the letter of Clement.3 After telling of the fire which broke out at Rome martyrs had been a magnificent example 'among us'? Suetonius (Nero, 16), it is true, says, 'afflicti suppliciis ckristiani\ but that only means that those Christians who were caught were sent to be punished and does not imply that measures were taken to prevent any escaping. The idea that the Roman community suffered almost complete extermination has been maintained by H. Dannenbauer ('Die romische Petruslegende', Hist. Zeitschr., 1932, CXLVI, pp. 246 f.). Against it see the observations of Leitzmann (Tetrus romischer Martyrer', S.B.A., 1936, p. 397) and M. Dibelius (R.u.d.Chr., p. 19, n. 2). 1 See further back, p. 501. 2 Bouche-Leclercq, pp. 125-138. Cullmann ('Les causes de la mort de Pierre et de Paul d'apres le temoignage de Clement Remain', R.h.p.r., 1930, X, pp. 294-300) maintained the same thesis at least so far as the death of the two apostles is concerned. 8 The Annales were published in 115 or 116 (Goelzer, Tacite, Annales, Paris, 1923, s., I, p. vi). Hochart (Etude au sujet de la persecution des Chretiens sous Neron, Paris, 1885) maintained that the chapters in Tacitus referring to the Christians were an interpolation. Later on (De Vauthenticity des Annales et des Histoires de Tacite, Bordeaux, 1890; Nouvelles considerations au sujet des Annales et des Histoires de Tacite, Paris, 1894) ne went so far as to maintain that Tacitus' work was a late

C H R I S T I A N I T Y AND ROMAN EMPIRE

on the fourteenth day before the kalends of Sextiles (= igth July, 64) he writes of its causes with such great reserve that, although he is never explicit, we can guess what his personal opinion was. He gives two accounts which were in circulation and pretends that he does not wish to judge between them. According to one it was an unfortunate accident, according to the other Nero was to blame (forte an dolo prindpis incertum). But from chapter xxxviii to chapter xl the story is told with infinite art to give the reader the impression that Nero was the author of the catastrophe. The fire began in that part of the circus which was situated between the Palatine and Coelian Hills and was fed by the goods piled up in the shops which stood against the circus. Favoured by the wind it spread rapidly into the houses which were closely piled together and separated only by narrow alleys. Tacitus makes out that no one dared to fight the flames because people who said that they had had orders to do so withstood every effort to try and fight the fire. Did they want to take advantage of the opportunity offered by the fire for looting or were they agents of the emperor? Tacitus gives both explanations, but in accordance with his apparently self-imposed rule of hinting at Nero's guilt without explicitly saying so, he does not plump for either hypothesis (xxxviii. 2-8). Nero was at Antium when news of the fire arrived and did not return to Rome until he learnt that the flames had reached the palace which he had built between the Palatine and the gardens of Maecenas. While Tacitus does not say so explicitly, it is plain from his narrative that Nero took upon himself to direct and press forward the fight with the fire. He offered refuge to the homeless crowds by opening to them the campus Mortis and the monuments which Agrippa had built and even his gardens. He had huts built and food brought which was sold to the people at cheap prices. Tacitus does not lay stress on these measures but he notes that they did not increase the emperor's popularity because it had been noised abroad that, while Rome burnt, Nero sang on the stage of his private theatre the story of the burning of Troy (xxxix). At last on the sixth day they were able to hold the fire at the bottom of the Esquiline where demolitions were going on to create an open space. The fire revived again at another point but this second fire caused less damage than the first, because it broke out in a quarter where the houses were not so crowded together as in the,other parts. fiction. These suggestions are so fantastic that criticism has no reason to take them seriously,

33

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

But it created worse rumours than the first because it began in the domain of Tigillenus, Nero's favourite, and the emperor was credited with the ambition to found a new Rome. Of the fourteen districts of Rome, four were undamaged,1 three were destroyed to the ground,2 of the seven others there remained nothing but ruins. Although Tacitus may have somewhat exaggerated its extent,3 it was a frightful catastrophe well likely to create a wave of emotion which might have proved dangerous, if measures had not been taken to calm or divert popular feeling. Chapter xli is devoted to telling of some of the oldest religious buildings and treasures which were a prey to the flames. Chapters xlii and xliii tell of the measures taken by Nero for the reconstruction of the city and the regulations laid down to prevent a recurrence of such a disaster. Tacitus says, 'In addition to the measures which common sense called for, piacula were offered, ceremonies for the purpose of propitiating the anger of the gods'. But all this did nothing to efface the prevailing opinion that the fire had been ordered by the emperor (xliv. 3). In order, if possible, to remove the imputation, he determined to transfer the guilt to others. For this purpose he punished a race of men detested for their evil practices, commonly called Christians (xliv. 4). He must not have found it very difficult to make them accounted responsible for the fire. It is at this point that Tacitus gives a parenthesis explaining the origin of the name Christian (xliv. 3).* The explanation certainly comes from a different source from that used for the account of the measures taken against those who were supposed to be the incendiaries.5 First of all, one group of people were seized who confessed themselves guilty (primum correpti qui fatebantur) then on the evidence of these men (indido eorum) a great crowd of persons were convicted not so much of having set the city on fire as of hatred of the human race (xliv. 6). Tacitus with disconcerting brevity reduces into this single sentence all that he tells us of the procedure followed. The rest of the chapter is devoted to an account of the torments inflicted. 1 The XlVth (Transtiberiana), 1st (Porta Capena), Vth (Esquflinia), Vlth (Alta Semita) (Goelzer, Tadte, Annales, III, p. 488, n. 6). 2 The Xlth (Circus Maximus), Xth (Palatium), and Ilird (Isis et Serapia) (Goelzer, p. 488, n. 6). 8 As Klette (p. 68) thinks who quotes H. Jordan, Topographic der Stadt Rom im Altertum, Berlin, 1878, I, pp. 483-491. 4 See y. de N., pp. 44 ff. V. de jf., pp. 73 ff. and Life of Jesus, pp. 94 ff. 5 Corssen, Z.N.T.W., 1914, XV, p. 135.

5H

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There were then two stages to the proceedings. First, an indefinite but certainly small number of Christians were arrested;1 then on evidence provided by them—we do not know whether it was given voluntarily or under compulsion—mass arrests took place. Tacitus does not tell us if the victims were divided into two groups for torment and punishment, one after the other, as in the case of the arrests and trials. We must therefore suppose as well befits the way in which they were made a public spectacle, that to make the torments appear more impressive, they did not proceed until both groups had been condemned. Two questions arise. On whose information were the first group arrested? Secondly, in what sense are we to understand the words indicia eorum? In answer to the first most scholars, with good reasons apparently, think that the Christians who were first arrested confessed their faith.2 Some think that they admitted themselves guilty of the charge brought against them, that they started the fire.3 Others have suggested that the text was made ambiguous on purpose.4 In this case they argue that Tacitus was trying to insinuate that the Christians were guilty, although he could not say so explicitly because the sources at his disposal were not unanimous on this point. We do not think that this hypothesis can hold because Tacitus thought, or at any rate wanted to suggest to his readers, that Nero was responsible both for the fire and for the Christians being accused so that he would be acquitted of blame and would bring popular resentment on others. But it remains a strange fact that Tacitus does not say of the first group of Christians who were arrested something similar 1 Perhaps on account of the part they played in the community or for some other reason which made them prominent. 2 This is particularly the opinion of the majority of the translators of Tacitus, e.g. Goeltzer, Tacitey Annales, III, p. 491, and many others, e.g. R. Pohlmann, art., 'Nero', R.E., XIII, p. 720, and M. Dibelius, R.u.d.Chr. p. 31. 8 Such is H. Schiller's opinion, Ein Problem der Tacituserklarung in Commentationes philologicae in honorem Theodori Mommsenii, Berlin, 1877, pp. 42-47; Keim, Rom und das Christentum, Berlin, 1881, pp. 188-189. Such is especially C. Pascal's, L'incendio diRomae iprimi cristiani, Milan, 1900 (second edition augmented, Turin, 1900); *A proposito della persecuzione neroniana di cristiani', Atene e Roma, 1900, III, pp. 376-381; Faith 6 legende de Roma antica, 1903, pp. 117-185; BoucheLeclercq, pp. 125 f. Quite often Bouche-Leclercq's thought is rather ambiguous : on p. 133 he notes that according to Christian eschatology the destruction of the world by fire was to be the work of God, but he attributes to the Christians the idea that once the fire had begun to fight it or to allow anyone to fight it would have been to oppose the will of God. Those who said that they had received orders to prevent anyone trying to fight the fire (esse sibi auctorem, xxxviii. 8) must have been Christians who thought that they were assisting the will of God. 4 Klette, p. 109; Eduard Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 507.

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY

to what he says of the second, viz. that if they were not guilty of incendiarism they were at any rate guilty of hatred of the human race. I shall return to this point later. Do the words indicia eorum imply that the first group of Christians arrested allowed themselves to betray their brethren more or less of their own accord?1 Bouche-Leclercq2 rightly remarks that the text says nothing like this. It only says that through the instrumentality of the first group arrested they were able to arrest many others. The first Christians to fall into the hands of the police were able to provide much information in spite of themselves.3 We have no reason to think that information was extracted out of them by torture. Neither Tacitus nor any other author who mentions the events of 64 makes the slightest allusion to this method of obtaining evidence.4 There is no reason either for thinking that one faction had denounced another as there is no evidence to suggest that the church at Rome was in any way divided for such a hypothesis to be thought possible. It might be possible, as Klette thought,5 that the first Christians who were arrested were convinced of their own innocence and failed to recognise the gravity of their position. Hence they somewhat rashly replied to questions which were put tp them about their religion, its adherents, the places where they met for worship, and the police made use both of information they received in this way and of what could be gathered by investigation about the arrested people, their friends and haunts and perhaps also by searching their homes.6 Tacitus does not tell us what procedure was used. His story bnly gives the impression that it was expeditious and that things rapidly came to a head. There were three courts to which the case could have been submitted. Klette7 thinks that the praetor's court must be ruled out as its procedure would not have been quick enough. The prefect of the city might have proceeded more expeditiously and the emperor's court still more so. Tacitus' story suggests that the emperor intervened personally and therefore we may suppose that the case was brought before his court acting with summary jurisdiction and almost unlimited power.8 1

Cullmann, R.h.p.r., 1930, X, p. 299 admits this. Bouche-Leclercq, p. 125. The text is interpreted in the same way by M. Dibelius, R.u.d.Chr., pp. 31 f. * Klette, p. no. 4 Mommsen, Rom. Strafrecht, pp. 406 ff. But Pliny made use of it. See p. 537. 5 7 Klette, pp. 122 f. * Bouche-Leclercq, p. 125. Klette, p. 99. 8 The command of the pretorian guards was at that time discharged by Faenius Rufus and Ofonius Tigellinus (Tacitus, Annales, xiv. 51, 5). The latter was Poppaea's confidential attendant (xiv. 60, 4). This information favours the hypothesis that there was Jewish intervention. 2

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Tacitus' story ends with a brief but impressive description of the victims dressed up in various ways and made part of the games of the circus, a refined form of cruelty. For convenience Nero lent his gardens. Dressed as a coachman, sometimes he mixed with the crowd and sometimes he took an active part in the games. The scene varied. Alternately the victims were dressed up as mythological figures and animals of the chase. Christians who had been covered with animals' skins were devoured by fierce dogs, while others were nailed to crosses and covered over with inflammable matter (tunica molesta), and when day declined were used as living torches (xliv. 7-8). Tacitus concluded by saying that, although these men were guilty and deserved hard punishment, one could not help but pity them as they were not sacrificed to the public interest but to gratify the whims of one man (xliv. 9). From what sources did Tacitus obtain the elements of his story?1 For the history of Nero's reign he made use of three sources, the elder Pliny, Cluvius Rufus and Fabius Rusticus. Cluvius' work seems to have been his principal source. The three sources differed on the question as to who was responsible for the fire. Pliny the elder made Nero responsible, as he speaks of old trees 'which survived up to the time of the fire by which Nero burnt the City'.2 Klette3 thinks that Fabius Rusticus shared this opinion and that for his work he used Suetonius as his source, which would prove as an established and incontrovertible fact that Nero burnt Rome.4 Like Suetonius Fabius Rusticus was hostile to Nero;5 but this is not sufficient to prove that he held him responsible for the fire. We do not know what his opinion was. Of Cluvius, Rusticus, and Suetonius, one at least believed in Nero's innocence; for it is a fact that Tacitus found that his sources did not agree and so could not give formal expression to his own conviction but was reduced to letting his readers guess what it was. He considered Christians capable of anything and deserving of the most dire punishments but he did not think them responsible for the fire. In his own mind he thought Nero was the incendiary. 1 On this question see the fundamental work by Ph. Fabia, Les sources de Tacite dans les Histoires et dans les Annales, Paris, 1893, spec, pp. 184-191, 376-380, 398-404. Cf. Klette, pp. 80 ff. 2 Pliny the elder, Hist. not. xvii. 4: Ad Neronis principia incendia quibus cremavit Urbem. * Klette, p. 80. 4 Suetonius, Nero, 38: incendit Urbem. 6 This is shown by the fact that Suetonius (Nero, 28) following Fabius Rusticus tells of the incest of Nero and Agrippina and makes out that Nero took the initiative in it while Tacitus (Annales, xiv. 2) following Cluvius Rufus does not believe that the crime was actually consummated but charges Agrippina with attempting it.

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Tacitus is the only writer of all those who refer to the massacres of 64 to connect them with thfe fire of Rome.1 Suetonius, who mentions the fire in chapter 38 of the Life of Nero, attributes it without any hesitation to the emperor. The executions he mentions in chapter 16 where he deals with various measures taken by the municipal police. Evidently he saw no connection between the two things.2 Klette3 tries to belittle the significance of this fact by the observation that Suetonius did not arrange his narrative in chronological order like Tacitus but grouped facts together according to their nature. But he does not just mention the tortures of Christians but explains their cause by the words genus hominum superstitionis novae ac maleficae (a group of men devoted to a new and evil superstition). If he had known or thought that this evil superstition had impelled them to set fire to Rome, would he have passed it over in silence? But it remains true that from the fact that Suetonius mentions the massacres of the Christians together with police measures which only concerned Rome he seems to think of them as purely local in nature and to have known nothing of any extension of the persecution outside Rome.4 This plainly favours the hypothesis that the measures taken against the Christians were connected with something that happened at Rome, which is exactly the way in which Tacitus describes events. In actual fact it is certainly not right completely to rule out a priori the possibility that the Christians caused the fire. Christian eschatology, which, generally speaking, had lost considerable force in the second generation, maintained that the final catastrophe must be the work of God, not of men; there may well have been some fanatics among the Christians at Rome who misunderstood this belief and thought it a work of piety to hasten God's vengeance on a corrupt city which was a seat of idolatry.5 But in the face of the careful reserve shown by Tacitus and the complete silence observed by 1 Except for some late texts such as Sulpicius Severus, Chron. ii. 29 and the correspondence between Paul and Seneca (Ep. xii of Seneca) which are dependent on Tacitus. 2 Dibelius (R.u.d.Chr., p. 34) strongly emphasises the fact that except for some notable exceptions, which are of no value as they come from texts dependent on Tacitus, no author, Roman or Christian, gives any indication of the fire and the massacre of the Christians being connected with each other. 8 Klette, p. 77. 4 Pohlmann, art. 'Nero', R.E., XIII, p. 721. It is only at a very late date that we find the notion that Nero's persecution extended to the provinces. It is found in Lactantius, De morte persec.t 2, and in Paul Orosus, Hist. vii. 7. 5 Piganiol, Hist, de Rome, p. 259.

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Suetonius, the accusations brought against the Christians cannot be held to be true. Must we then hold Nero to be responsible for the fire in accordance with Tacitus' insinuations and Suetonius' explicit statement to which Renan1 agrees? Tacitus' story gives the impression that Nero's purpose in proceeding against the Christians was to impress the masses, because the rumours denigrating him had originated with them. Yet, as Klette2 rightly observes, the masses were always favourable to Nero;3 right up to the end he remained popular; they refused to believe in his death and for a long time expected him to return.4 It must then be supposed that the rumours condemning Nero were given credit in more exalted circles such as those from which those who joined Piso's conspiracy were recruited. One of the conspirators, Subrius Flavus, replied to Nero, when he was asked why he betrayed his oath, 'There was a time when no soldier in your army was more devoted to your service, and that was as long as you deserved the esteem of mankind. I began to hate you when you were guilty of parricide; when you became a coachman, a comedian, and an incendiary.'5 The theatrical torture of men who were supposed to be guilty could hardly destroy rumours which circulated in circles such as this. What is more serious in the charge against Nero is that he made foolish proposals, which were the product of a diseased imagination and an indecent desire to have himself called a founder of the city. What we know of the psychology of this semi-madman makes it possible that he may have passed from dreams to action. But the positive charges brought against him do not allow his guilt to be taken as proved. Most scholars think that in fact the fire was the result of an accident.6 Bouche-Leclercq7 in particular has made out a sound case in Nero's favour. He argues that he would have wanted to allow a definite space for the building of the Domus aurea and reconstruction of the poor quarters but, if this was his desire, he bungled things badly as the fire destroyed the Palatine, the wealthy quarters, temples, the imperial palace itself and precious works of art. He only came back from Antium when he knew that 1 Renan, L'Antichrist, pp. 144 fF. This is also Pohlmann's opinion (art. 'Nero*, R.E. XIII, pp. 718 f.) who, however, thinks that the catastrophe assumed proportions far beyond those envisaged by the emperor. 2 Klette, pp. 82 f. 3 Dion Cassius (Ixii. 18, 3) says explicitly that the charge of having set fire to Rome did not damage Nero's popularity. 4 Suetonius, Nero, 57; Tacitus, Hist. ii. 8. 5 Tacitus, Ann. xv. 67, 3-4. Cf. Dion Cassius, Ixii. 24. 6 E.g. Eduard Meyer, Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 502. 7 Bouche-Leclercq, pp. 115-122.

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his own house was on fire; as Tacitus says he tried to fight the flames but (tameri) could not stop them before they had devoured the Palatine. If Nero had felt that he was being suspected, would he have started another fire in the gardens of Tigillinus, whom everyone knew was devoted to him? Would he have taken into his confidence a large number of people by ordering them to fight the measures taken to extinguish it and so have told them of his crime? uetonius1 holds out as a proof of his guilt the fact that he had buildings of hewn stone demolished by artillery, but he apparently did not know that one is sometimes compelled to make an empty space in front of a fire in order to fight it. If Nero, in the spirit of a morbid dilettante, had wished to enjoy the theatrical spectacle of the burning of Troy would he not have returned to Rome as soon as the sinister outbreak began? The fact that the evidence differs so widely as to where he sang the fall of Troy2 suggests that all we have here is a legend which may have sprung from some foolish remark of the imperial actor. Rumour ran round that Nero started the fire; Pliny the elder and Suetonius say so explicitly; Tacitus hints at it; Subrius Flavus, at a time when he had nothing to go on, called Nero the incendiary, but Juvenal, who can find no punishment too hard for a wicked fellow like Nero, fails to mention the fire of Rome among his crimes. Except, as I have already remarked, at a quite late period and in direct dependence on Tacitus and Suetonius,3 Christian writers who were not tender towards Nero make no allusion to Nero as an incendiary, while they attribute to him the initiative in the persecutions. Whether it be Nero or the Christians who are accused there is no doubt that we must explain these accusations as due to human nature and its inclination to think that no great misfortune can happen without someone being responsible for it. In actual fact, the fire seems to have been due to accidental reasons. Its catastrophic growth was helped by the wind, the way in which the city was built, and the lack of adequate precautions. Although the fire of 64 was particularly terrible, it was by no means the only one which ravaged Rome.4 Must the good faith of those who accused the Christians be called in question? It is by no means certain; Tacitus shows by the way in 1

Suetonius, Nero, 38. According to Tacitus (Ann. xv. 39, 4) in his private theatre, according to Suetonius (Nero, xxxviii. 6) on the tower of Maecenas, according to Dion Cassius (Ixiii. 16) on the top of his palace. 8 Sulpicius Severus, Chron. ii. 29, copies Tacitus and Paul Orosus (Hist. vii. 7) 4 follows Suetonius. Bouche-Leclercq, p. 121. 520 2

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which he expressed himself that they were thought capable of anything. But there is one great difficulty. Tacitus is the only one to provide evidence of any connection between the measures taken against the Christians and the fire. Might it have been simply a guess on his part which historians who followed him did not mention because they were aware of its absurdity?1 One thing alone can be inferred with any certainty from Tacitus' evidence, that is that the massacres of Christians took place shortly after the fire. It might simply have been nothing but a coincidence. This is what Dibelius suggests2 who thinks that the coincidence was the result of a trick on Nero's part to divert attention from the disagreeable rumours which were floating round about him and give public opinion something else to think about by massacring the Christians. There is another conjecture possible. Tacitus' explanation of the name Christians comes from a different source than the one giving the story of the fire. It therefore may be supposed that Tacitus abandoned his principal source to give the explanation, which he then introduced by a personal remark of his own to the effect that the measures taken by Nero failed to appease the feelings of the masses. In his source what is said of the measures taken against the Christians may have come immediately after what was said of the piacula. This would lead one to think that the massacres of the Christians were originally part of the piacula. The catastrophe would have been thought of as a sign of the anger of the gods and efforts had been made to try and appease them by dealing severely with those whose impiety had annoyed them.3 Suetonius who wrote a little later than Tacitus adds nothing to what he had said.4 To explain the measures taken against the Christians he preferred another version which incriminated them on the • 1 3

2 Klette, pp. 139 ff. Dibelius, R.u.d.Chr., pp. 32 f. This explanation given by Klette (p. 90) in passing he must apparently have preferred to that which he gives in addition on p. 89 in which he suggests that Nero tried to strike the popular imagination by sensational spectacles to create a diversion and stop them thinking too much about the catastrophe. It might also have been supposed as Ed. Cuq ('De la nature des crimes imputes aux Chretiens d'apres Tacite', MM., de I'lSc, franc, de Rome, 1886, p. 129) that the Christians were not accused of actually starting the fire but of having caused it by magic arts. The idea must be avoided that they drew attention to themselves by refusing to take part in expiatory ceremonies after the fire. Only Roman citizens could participate in these ceremonies and the number of Christians at Rome who possessed the privilege of Roman citizenship could not have been large enough for their abstention to have attracted any attention (Bouche-Leclercq, p. 139). 4 Suetonius, Nero, 16.

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charge of their malefica superstitio. Are we to understand that this means witchcraft in the precise sense of the term? The text is too brief for us to decide definitely one way or the other. But even if we understood the term to mean witchcraft, Suetonius is not explaining the fire of Rome to have been due to this, as he explicitly makes Nero the cause of it. At the very most—and this is very uncertain—it might be suspected that we have here a very slight trace of a divergent tradition which made the Christians guilty. The Ascension of Isaiah refers to the persecution of Nero in the form of a prophecy: 'Beliar, the great prince, the king of this world, who has ruled over it since it came into existence, will come down from his firmament in the form of a king of iniquity and a murderer of his mother; he will persecute the plantation of the twelve apostles of the Well-Beloved; of the twelve one will be delivered into his hands' (iv. 2-3). There are two things here: a remembrance of Nero's persecution expressed in terms somewhat vague befitting what is supposed to be a prophecy and an allusion to a particular event, i.e. the martyrdom of one of the Twelve. Does this refer to Peter or to Paul? Mgr. Tisserant1 thinks that it can only refer to Peter. Such precision may seem arbitrary. But it is of little importance; what matters is that there is no reference to the fire of Rome. Melitus of Sardis2 recalls the persecution but makes no allusion to the fire. As he does so he gives vent to a theory which was destined to become classical: only the bad emperors, Nero and Domitian persecuted the Christians. Later on Tertullian adopted this idea and developed it in great detail.3 The idea that persecutions began with Nero and that his successors completely disapproved of the measures taken by him and could not annul them but had to be content merely to be moderate in applying them is an apologetic fiction. Nero's part was not as 1

E. Tisserant, UAscension d'Isaie, Paris, 1909, pp. 29 f., 117. A fragment from his apology preserved by Eusebius, H.e. iv. 26, 9 s. Klette (p. 20) admits that Tertullian may have had other sources besides those with which we are acquainted. This is a very slender conjecture, as, when Tertullian refers the Romans to their Annals (Apolog. i. 3, 4), he imagines that the history of Christianity as he thinks of it must be reflected in the works of the Roman historians. His idea of the past of Christianity is quite fantastic. In spite of the ingenious defence put forward by L. Herrmann (De Golgotha au Palatin). Tertullian cannot be taken seriously when he relates that Tiberius, on the strength of reports received from Palestinian Syria, asked the senate to recognise Christ's divinity and on his proposal being refused he threatened the accusers of the Christians with death (Apolog. v. 2). 2

3

5"

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decisive as tradition imagined. What he did was entirely due to circumstances and was determined merely by the fact that it was in his reign that the Roman authorities were compelled to realise that Christians were not to be thought of purely and simply as Jews. Perhaps also the fire of Rome gave the latent hostility of public opinion against the Christians the chance to crystallise and appear in the open. From this time onwards the Christians were regarded as hostes publici because of their atheism and their hatred of the human race. 4.—FROM NERO TO DOMITIAN

The events which took place at Rome in 64 had no direct repercussions in the provinces in this sense at least, that they did not set in motion general measures against the Christians; none the less they affected the position of the church in the world. For those who all over the place did not like the Christians could not help but be encouraged to persecute and denounce them when they learnt what had just happened at Rome. The Synoptic evangelists make Jesus predict to the disciples that they will be brought before magistrates and kings and that they will have to confess their faith before them. He promises them for this the help of the holy Spirit.1 This is all the more significant as the synoptic gospels very seldom mention inspiration.2 But while the gospels offer clear evidence as to the hostility of the public authorities to the faith and to consequent sufferings for the faithful, the language used prevents one thinking that they were written at a time of sharp persecutions. They belong to a period following persecutions, when at any time what appeared to be a most insignificant incident might provoke fresh ones. The situation is much too general in character for any close connection to be found between this saying and the events at Rome in 64. It springs from a fact which these events did not create but only revealed, viz. that Christians possessed no legal status in the Empire and could not have one, that they were on the edge of society and at any moment for the most trivial causes or even for no reason at all they might be treated as public enemies. 1

Mark xiii. 9-13 (= Matt. xxiv. 9-14; Luke xxi. 12-19); Matt. x. 19-33 (= 2Luke xii. 2-12). Apart from the theological thesis that the holy Spirit will enable the disciples to understand the teaching of their master concerning the necessity of his sufferings and his death the only other mention of inspiration is in reference to the appearance of Christians before magistrates and courts.

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It is this situation when, however, it had obviously grown worse which the first epistle of Peter discloses, the first draft of which seems to have been composed between 80 and 90. It is an exhortation addressed there is no doubt to Christians in Asia Minor who were being persecuted for their faith not so much by judicial and administrative measures as by ill-will from their neighbours. The author can still hope that if the Christians continue to behave themselves in a manner beyond reproach they will be protected by the magistrates. 'Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's1 sake; whether it be to the king as supreme; or unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of evildoers, and for the praise of them that do well. For so is the will of God, that with well doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men' (ii. I3-I7).2 This passage implies that the Christians were subject to calumnies and accused of all kinds of misdeeds but were not being persecuted directly for their faith. But another passage of the epistle discloses a situation so different that we must assume that the document had been revised -in the time of Trajan. 'Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding great joy. If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are ye; for the spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you: But let none of you suffer as a murderer, or as a thief, or as an evildoer or as a busybody in other men's matters.3 Yet if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God on this behalf (iv. 12-16). The use of the term 'Christian' here shows that the authorities considered it an offence to be one involving the same penal sanctions as murder or theft. The nomen had become a crime. This fragment, according to what seems a very probable hypothesis, is reckoned to be the work of a compiler who turned what was originally a baptismal exhortation by Silvanus into a letter from Peter.4 It also seems correct to attribute to this reviser the probable if not certain designation of Rome as Babylon (v. i3).5 1

I.e. from motives of conscience and not simply from expediency. By revealing that there were no grounds for the accusations brought against the Christians. 8 Goguel translates the word aAAoT/HocmWoTros by intriguer. We have given the translation of the Authorised Version. See Windisch, Kath. Br.y p. 77, concerning its interpretation. 4 5 Bornemann's hypothesis. See p. 339, n. i. See pp. 154 if. 2

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Another document which, like the first epistle of Peter, belongs to the period separating Nero's persecution from Domitian's is the Book to the Seven Churches which is used as an introduction to the Johannine Apocalypse (i. 4-iii. 22). The date of ite initial composition must apparently be dated round about 80-85.x When this book was composed the churches did not enjoy assured peace; but their situation does not seem to have been very critical. The first indication of the hostility to which Christians were sometimes exposed is furnished by the way in which in i. 7 the return of the Lord is invoked as a threat to his tormentors. The allusion in ii. 3 to sufferings which the church at Ephesus has endured without giving in is really exact enough but does not enable us to know where these sufferings came from. To the church at Smyrna it is predicted that a persecution is near, which will be instigated by the Jews, and that some members of the church will be thrown into prison. It is not said that any of them will perish: the tribulation will last ten days. The term must certainly 1 The language, vocabulary and style of the Book to the Seven Churches are the same as those of the remainder of the Apocalypse. The affinities in ideas are equally striking. But the book cannot have been written at the same time as the rest of the Apocalypse, i.e. at the end of Domitian's reign. It is an earlier work of the prophet John which he revised to use as an introduction to his new work. The reasons justifying this opinion are (i) the initial salutation (i. 4-6) uses the title of the Apocalypse twice (i. 1-3); (2) in iv. 2 the seer falls into an ecstasy although he never states that the ecstasy mentioned in i. 9 comes to an end; (3) one of the dominating concerns of the Book to the Seven Churches, i.e. the struggle against heresy is not mentioned in the remainder of the Apocalypse; (4) persecution is not unknown in the Book to the Seven Churches, but seems to have been fairly intermittent, while in the rest of the Apocalypse persecution is constant. To fix the date when the Book to the Seven Churches was written we must take into account, the fact that one of the towns to which it is addressed is Laodicea which was destroyed by an earthquake in 61-62 and was soon rebuilt out of its own funds (Tacitus, AnnaleSy xv. 27, i). The letter to the Seven Churches contains no allusion to this event and can therefore only have been written well before 61-62 or appreciably much later, when the impression caused by the catastrophe had had time to grow faint. The terminus a quo may therefore be supposed to be the year 75 and the composition of the book may be fixed round about 80-85. We do not think that much can be made of i. 9 where it is said that John was at Patmos for the Word of God and the witness of Jesus. Tradition with most of the interpreters think that he was in exile there and Eduard Meyer (Urspr. u. Anf. Ill, p. 557) declares that he does not understand how any other meaning could be given to the passage. I feel that at the very least Bousset 's interpretation (Die Offenbarung des Johannes, Meyer, XVI5 Giessen, 1896, p. 223) cannot be altogether ruled out. He thinks that John was at Patmos in the course of a missionary tour. Bousset rightly observes that the scholars who speak of John being in exile at Patmos appear to have no other source than the Apocalypse itself and that the sentence, 'I fell into ecstasy on the Lord's day' (i. 9) and not *a day of the Lord' implies that John spent only one Sunday in Patmos, which agrees with the idea that he was on a missionary tour and not in banishment.

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be understood symbolically: it proves, however, that the persecution will be short (ii. g-io).1 The church at Pergamum has known persecution without denying the name of the Lord even in the days when the faithful martyr Antipas was put to death.2 At the time when the author was writing, the persecution was over; it could not have been very terrible as only one martyr had perished. The author does not seem to have foreseen that it must return (ii. 12-17). The church at Philadelphia also has known persecution; it continues to be threatened with it; it is praised because it has not denied the name of the Lord (iii. 8) but a promise is also made to it that it will be preserved at the time of the great tribulation, i.e. of the final drama (iii. 10). All this as can be seen is quite vague. Each of the seven letters finishes with a promise made to him who shall overcome. To describe the faithful as soldiers was current metaphor in antiquity.3 We find it in many passages in the New Testament referring to persecution.4 But in the Book to the Seven Churches it may have special significance and be an exhortation to faithfulness in witness, faithfulness which, if necessary, must go as far as martyrdom which is described as a victory. One clear allusion to the hatred of the world, i.e. to the persecutions to which Christians will be exposed, is to be found in the second half of the farewell discourses in the Fourth Gospel.5 The 1 This information is so precise that we are led to think that it is a prophecy ex eventu. 2 Pergamum (Ramsay, The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia and their place on the plan of Apocalypse2, London, 1906, pp. 281 ff.) was a religious centre of the first importance, the 'Lourdes* of Asia Minor, Lohmeyer says (Die Offenbarung des Johannes, Tubingen, 1926, p. 13), with a gigantic altar of Zeus Soter. A temple of Augustus was built there in 29 (Tacitus, Annales, iv. 3). Deissmann (Licht vom Osten, p. 210, n. 6) thinks that the phrase 'throne of Satan* refers to this altar. But it seems rather that this expression must be explained by the cult of Aesculapius which played a great part at Pergamum. The serpent was one of the attributes of Aesculapius. In Ramsay (The Letters, pp. 285 ff., Figs. 23-25) will be found coins from Pergamum on which a serpent figures. One of them shows Caracalla worshipping the serpent-god of Pergamum. It is not surprising that the Christians identified this serpent with Satan. 8 Cumont, Textes et monuments figures relatifs au culte de Mithra, Brussels, 1896-99, I, p. 317, n. i; Les religions orientales dans le paganisme romain*, Paris, !929, pp. xf., 207 f.; Reitzenstein, Hellen. MysterienreL, pp. 71 ff. 4 E.g. 2 Cor. x. 4; Phil. I, 30; Col. ii. i; iv. 12; i Thess. ii. 2; v. 8; Eph. vi. ii ff.; i Tim. iv. 10; vi. 12; 2 Tim. ii. 3; iv. 7; Heb. xii. i. Cf. Harnack, Militia Christi, Die christliche Religion und der Soldatenstand in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten, Tubingen, 1905. This work gives an extract of the Christian texts of the first three centuries containing metaphors borrowed from military life. 5 Concerning the composition of the Farewell-discourses see Introd. II, pp. 366 ff.

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CHRISTIANITY AND ROMAN EMPIRE

first half is directly connected with the story of the last supper (xiii. i-xiv. 31) while the second (xv. i-xvii. 26) has no organic connection with what precedes it nor with the story of the arrest which follows. The man who pieced together the gospel thought that the last argument of chapter xiv (25-31) was the end of Jesus' discourse and came immediately before the departure for Gethsemane.1 There is a striking parallel between xiv. 30-31 and the last words spoken by Jesus before his arrest in Mark (xiv. 42). The words, 'Arise, let us go hence* indicate an end. After saying these words Jesus cannot have added a long discourse, especially such a discourse as is contained in chapters xv to xvii, which, on account of their solemn and grave style, could not have been uttered in the huboub of departure. The words: Teace I leave with you' in verse 27 at once recall to mind the Semitic phrase for goodbye. Finally the sentence in verse 30, 'Hereafter I will not talk much with you', which almost certainly should read, 'I will talk no more',2 cannot originally have been followed by a complete discourse. As Merx3 says, for chapters xv to xvii to follow xiv. 31 is impossible, both in logic and aesthetic form. Yet they show with what goes before too many affinities both in thought and language for one to be able to attribute them to another hand. We must therefore suppose that they were added by the evangelist at a later date. These chapters have one idea not to be found in chapters xiii and xiv, i.e. that of the hatred of the world for believers. The evangelist added them to introduce this idea. The situation had therefore changed; persecution had begun or was threatening to begin. The first half of the farewell-discourse proceeds in an atmosphere entirely devotional; it is entirely concerned with the relations of the disciples to Christ. The world is only mentioned twice in quite a negative fashion (xiv 17, 30). The discourse is addressed to men who have not been pressed in any way or at any rate have not been pressed with any violence. They are indeed living in an environment where the church is not understood but not one where Christians are subject to being harassed and still less to persecutions. In the second half the faithful are advised to live united to Christ, which means that they are to resist the action of the world tending to separate them from him. The world hates them, and will persecute them as it 1 Schwartz, 'Aporien in vierten Evangelium', N.G., 1908, III, p. 184. Spitta, Das Johannesevangelium ah Quelle der Geschichte Jesu, Giessen, 1910, p. 299. 2 The reading in the Syriac version and in Chrysostom which is adopted by Blass in his edition of the Fourth Gospel and by Merx, Die vier kanonischen Evangelien nach ihrem altesten erreichbaren Texte, ii. 2. Das Evangelium des Johannes 8 erlautert, Berlin, 1911, p. 383. Merx, II, 2, p. 384.

527

THE BIRTH OF C H R I S T I A N I T Y

persecuted their master (xv. 18-21; cf. xvi. 1-2). Connected with this idea is found that of the world being condemned by the Paraclete (xvi. 8, n, 33). The conflict between the church and the world is therefore open; the era of persecution had begun but the evangelist puts into the mouth of Christ the prediction of the condemnation of the world, i.e. the prophecy of his chastisement and of the vengeance of the faithful. This is exactly the same situation as described in the Johannine Apocalypse but by a man of a very different temperament. The discourse makes persecution to be the logical result and continuation of the incredulity with which Jesus had been received. It might therefore be supposed that the Jews are to be thought of as the enemies of Christians.1 But we must not attach too much importance to this suggestion. The fourth evangelist is an idealist who was more interested in observing the facts of history transcendentally as a series of events arranged by God rather in tracing their historical development. He makes no distinction between those who were attacking the faith on the plane of ideas and doctrine and those who were tormenting believers. Assuming the date when his book was compiled we must conclude that the second layer of the Johannine discourses reflects the persecution of Domitian. 5.—THE PERSECUTION OF DOMITIAN

From Nero's time to the end of Domitian's reign Christians never knew peace and security. They were continually exposed to personal vexations rather than to administrative or judicial action of a public nature. But their position grew considerably worse at the end of Domitian's reign, especially at Rome with repercussions, however, in the provinces, particularly in Asia. Christian tradition2 made Domitian the second author of persecution after Nero. His actions against the Christians and simultaneously against the Jews can only be understood within the general framework of his policy and administration in religious affairs.3 Domitian was concerned to defend and restore the national religion, which was threatened by an extension of the Oriental cults which Vespasian and Titus had failed to defeat. He was particularly 1 This opinion seems to be confirmed by xvi. 1-2, 'They will put you out of the synagogues . . . whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service*. 2 Meliton, ApoL, in Eusebius, H.e. iv. 26; Tertullian, Apolog. 5; Lactantius, De morte pers. 3; Eusebius, H.e. iii. 17-20. * See the classic book by GseU, Essai sur le r&gne de Domitien, Paris, 1893.

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distrustful of Judaism which, since the advent of the Flavians,1 had made notable progress at Rome. In the sphere of administration Domitian's policy was notable for efforts to detract from the authority of the senate to the benefit of the princeps and showed almost open hostility for the ancient aristocracy.2 Domitian showed great extravagance by the games which he loved to give, by multiplying the number of distributions of largesse to the populace and by the construction of many and important buildings.3 He had squandered enormous sums and drained the imperial treasury.4 Persuaded that the fall of Jerusalem and the dispersion of its inhabitants had definitely reduced Jewish fanaticism to impotence, Vespasian, and following him Titus, had treated the Jews with generosity, only demanding that they should declare their religion and pay to the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus the tax of the didrachma which formerly had been paid by them to the temple treasure at Jerusalem (fiscus judaicus).5 Towards the end of his reign Domitian was moved, both by his policy in religious affairs and by his financial policy, to make thefiscusjudaicus more rigorous in its application.6 He wanted to impose it, not only on circumcised Jews, but also on all those who had adopted Jewish ways of living. A thorough campaign was taken in hand in which denunciations played a part to discover who could be compelled to pay the fiscus judaicus; Christians were found to be included among them. These measures were originally undertaken to relieve the embarrassment of the treasury. Although Domitian did not favour Judaism very much he does not seem at first to have thought of persecuting it.7 We know very little about the history of the Roman church between the massacres of 64 and the epistle of Clement of Rome, i.e. between Nero's reign and the end of Domitian's. In these thirty years the church had repaired its losses and made conquests even in the emperor's private circle. Among Domitian's victims figure members of his own family, Flavia Domitilla his niece, and also almost certainly her husband, the consul Flavius Clemens, but the evidence concerning them does not altogether agree. 1 He showed himself relatively favourable to the cult of Isis which had been long established in Rome as though he had no desire to canalise towards himself the religious current which the Oriental religions were attracting. Cf. Gsell, pp. 75 ff. * Gsell, pp. 238 ff. * Gsell, pp. 90-119. 4 Suetonius, Domitien, 12; Martial, Epigr. ix. 3; Gsell, pp. 119-127. 5 Josephus, G.j. vii. 6, 6; Dion Cassius, ix. 3; cf. Juster, II, pp. 282-286. 7 ' Suetonius, Domitian, 12; Martial, Epigr. vii. 82. Gsell, pp> 291 ff.

34

529

THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 1

Eusebius says that the flourishing state of the church led profane historians to speak of the persecutions which it sustained under Domitian. He uses the plural, but this seems to be merely literary in character, as in the Chronica he only mentions Bruttius2 who states that many Christians endured martyrdom under Domitian.3 This Bruttius is unknown but Suetonius and Dion Cassius seem to have used him as a source; possibly then he related the martyrdom of Flavius Clemens and others in terms which, without saying explicitly that they were Christians, did not exclude the possibility. Eusebius then added precision to what he said because he knew or thought that he knew that Domitian's victims had belonged to the church. Suetonius4 reports, 'on a very slight suspicion (ex tenuissima suspicions) he put to death almost at the time when he was consul,5 Flavius Clemens,6 his first cousin,7 a man who was despised for his idleness and whose sons while they were still young he had named as his heirs'. According to Dion Cassius8 Domitian condemned the consul Flavius Clemens with many others, although he was his cousin and was married to Flavia Domitilla, who was also related to him. Flavius Clemens had been convicted on a charge of atheism. Many others were condemned for that and for being inclined to Jewish customs. Some were punished by death; others had their goods confiscated. As for Domitilla she was exiled to the island of Pandateria. There is no difference apparently to be made between the case of Flavius Clemens and his wife being accused of atheism and that of other persons who were in addition accused of a certain inclination to Jewish customs. To live like a Jew might be ranked as atheism if it resulted in abstention from the national cult. There is no doubt that Flavius Clemens, his wife, and those who were accused with 1

Eusebius, H.e. iii. 18, 4. The Armenian version and George Syncelle give the form Brettius. 3 Eusebius, Chronica arm., ed. Karst, p. 218. St. Jerome's version, ed. Helm, p. 192. Cf. George Syncelle, Chron. (ed. de Bonn), p. 650; Georges Hamartolos, 4 III, p. 131. Suetonius, Domitian, 15. 5 I.e. doubtless as soon as he quitted office. F. Clemens, ordinary consul in 95, probably remained in office from i January to 30 April (Gsell, p. 303). His punishment must then have taken place in May 95. 6 The identification of Flavius Clemens with Clement of Rome which sometimes has been suggested cannot be retained. 7 Titus Flavius Clemens was the son of Titus Flavius Sabinus, Vespasian's brother who was prefect of the City. His wife Flavia Domitilla, Vespasian's granddaughter was the daughter of a sister of Domitian who had the same name. 8 Dion Cassius, Ixvii. 14. 2

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them made no formal profession either of Judaism or of Christianity.1 Dion mentions only a leaning. In the eyes of the Romans Jews and Christians were the same from this point of view. Dion Cassius' text does not allow us to affirm that Flavius Clemens and those accused with him were Christians or that there were Christians among them; nor does it allow us to deny the fact. It does not therefore provide sufficient evidence for us to dismiss the statements as legendary which say that Flavia Domitilla was a Christian. Philostratus2 mentions that Flavius Clemens was put to death without saying why.3 He adds that Domitian compelled his wife to remarry three or four days after her husband had been punished.4 This contradicts all the other evidence. Eusebius says in the Chronica following Bruttius that many Christians underwent martyrdom under Domitian; in particular he names Flavia Domitilla who was relegated to the island of Pontia because she had confessed her witness to the Christ. He repeats this in the ecclesiastical history;5 but here he makes Domitilla Flavius Clemens' niece and does not mention his condemnation or Domitilla's connection with the emperor. He names her place of exile as the island of Pontia and not Pandateria which Suetonius gives. On this last point he is in agreement with St. Jerome6 who relates that Paula visited the island of Pontia which had been ennobled by the exile of Domitilla and the cellulae in which she lived.7 1 Harnack (Einf., pp. 50 f.) and Dibelius (R.u.d.Chr., p. 39) without formally saying so incline to think that Flavius Clemens and Domitian's other victims were 2 Christians. Philostratus, Life of Apollonius, viii. 25. 3 Philostratus says that Domitian gave his own sister in marriage to Flavius Clemens. Zahn (Der Hirt des Hernias, Gotha, 1868, p. 45, n. 4) suggests that a confusion exists between Domitian's sister and mother who had the same name. Lightfoot (I, i, p. 44) assumes the text to be corrupt and proposes to correct oScA^v into e'faSeA^v or dSeA^iSijv. 4 Some authors (e.g. Renan, Les Evangeles, p. 296, n. 5) suggested that Philostratus means that he sent her to rejoin her husband. Erbes ('Das Alter der Graber und Kirchen des Paulus und Petrus in Rom*, Jarhrb., prot. Theol., 1878, IV, p. 700 f.); Zahn (D. Hirt. des Hernias, p. 45, n. 4); Lipsius (Chronologic der romischen Bischofe, Kiel, 1869, P- I5^)> Lightfoot (I, i, p. 113) seem to have shown this interpretation to be impossible. 5 6 Eusebius, H.e. iii. 18, 4. Jerome, Ep. cviii. 7. 7 Because of the divergence between Suetonius and Eusebius certain scholars (De Rossi, Bull. d. arch, crist., 1865, pp. 17 ff., 1875, pp. 690°.; H. Achelis, Acta SS. Nerei et Achillei, Leipzig, 1893, p. 50 f.; Dom Leclercq, art. 'Domitien', D.A.C.L., IV, col. 1396, art. 'Domitilla (Flavia)', ibid. IV, cols. 1401-1404) suggest that there were two Flavias, one the wife of the consul and the other his niece. It is a very bold combination to suggest. The disparity between Suetonius and Eusebius as to the place of exile may be explained by the fact that the two authors independently of each other had a common source (the work of Bruttius) which

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THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY 1

Gsell thinks that Eusebius does ftot mention Flavius Clemens because he did not show the same sympathy to the Christians as his wife. If he had known of a source which spoke of Flavius Clemens and Flavia Domitilla in terms similar to those used by Dion, he would not have described Flavia Domitilla alone as a Christian. He thinks that she was one because of the church's tradition. If Flavius Clemens had belonged to the church officially he would not have followed a senatorial career. Dom Leclercq2 makes him out to be a convinced Christian, who would have drawn upon himself the en^peror's anger if he had refused to participate in any religious ceremony which was laid upon him by his office. But if he had not retired in face of such a scandal would he have passed for the indolent person of whom Suetonius speaks?3 Would Dion have been likely merely to say that he had been suspected of atheism? And above all would the church have been able to forget such a magnificent example of resistance to idolatry which a consul had shown while in office? Flavius Clemens may have secretly shared his wife's convictions but, anxious to preserve his reputation and his career and not to stand in the way of the future of his sons whom the emperor had adopted, there is no doubt that he decided not to enter the church officially. This explains why he was not remembered as a martyr.4 Was Flavius Clemens a man lacking in consistency who had not the courage to bring his conduct into line with his convictions? Possibly; but it is possible also he considered the Roman religion to be only a political system and did not see or did not want to see that the worship of the Christ was incompatible with participation in the national cult which was for him only an act of civil duty. He may then have been a semi-Christian rather than an inconsistent Christian. Domitilla as a woman was not under the same obligations. She may have pledged herself to the church. An inscription uncovered in i8z25 proves that she possessed an estate on the Atreatine Way a mile did not state where Domitilla was exiled. The only real difficulty surviving would be concerning her parentage. A conjecture of Gsell (p. 298) could easily solve it. He suggests that Eusebius1 source had been slightly corrupted and that it originally read J

pp. vi and vii The footnote on p. vii refers to x in 1.17 p. vi The footnote on p. vi refers to 'Christianity' in 1. 33 p. vi.

ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 6

PETER ABELARD

PETER ABELARD Philosophy and Christianity in the Middle Ages

LEIF GRANE

Translated by Frederick and Christine Crowley Bibliography and Notes edited by Derek Baker

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1970 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1970 Leif Grane All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

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(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 6) (hbk) (Volume 6) (pbk) (Volume 6) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

LEIF GRANE

Peter Abelard Philosophy and Christianity in the Middle Ages

Translated by FREDERICK AND CHRISTINE CROWLEY

Bibliography and Notes edited by DEREK BAKER M.A., BXitt Lecturer in History, Edinburgh University

London

GEORGE ALLEN AND UNWIN LTD R U S K I N HOUSE M U S E U M STREET

FIRST P U B L I S H E D IN G R E A T BRITAIN

1970

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. All rights are reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, 1965, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, electrical, chemical, mechanical, optical, photocopying recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Enquiries should be addressed to the Publishers. Pierre Abelard, by Lief Grane, published in Denmark by Gyldend-al © Leif Grane 1964 This translation © George Allen & Unwin Ltd 1970 SBN 04 904003 o

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in 11 pt Juliana

BY WESTERN PRINTING S E R V I C E S LTD BRISTOL

CONTENTS page 1 The Twelfth Century Renaissance page 9 2 The Young Dialectician 34 3 Heloise 4 Disputes and Disappointments 5 Abelard's Thought 6 Bernard of Clairvaux

47 71 82 106

7 The Attack 8 The Encounter at Sens 9 Epilogue

123 137 150

BIBLIOGRAPHY

163

NOTES INDEX

171 185

CHAPTER 1

The Twelfth Century Renaissance

Reassessment of the Middle Ages in European historiography commenced some centuries ago, but the traditional image of the Middle Ages as an intellectually dark period contributing nothing significant to human 'progress' has proved surprisingly durable. The period has generally been evaluated against the background of the concept of a classical renaissance, as developed in the nineteenth century - largely by Jacob Burckhardt. With the rebirth of the learning of Antiquity in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, all that had been left abandoned at the end of ancient times was revived. The term 'Middle Ages' came to signify a thousand-year lethargy characterized by the supremacy of the Church. Historians of philosophy showed an interest in the Greek philosophy of Antiquity, skipped the Middle Ages and continued with the Renaissance philosophers. What happened in the intervening period was of no particular interest. To be fair, it should be added that philosophers active around 1900 had grown up in a period during which mediaeval thought had in most quarters been treated with contempt, even from a theological viewpoint. This applied not only to Protestant research but equally to Catholic research. Most of our knowledge of mediaeval scientific scholasticism was not acquired until the present century. Pope Leo XIII was very active in encouraging the study of scholasticism, and on the Protestant side research into the Reformation, which was strongly challenged by this

io / Peter Abelard renewed interest in the Middle Ages, provided the inspiration. It was at first a matter of understanding and interpreting the existing printed material, but extensive research into manuscripts soon began. This made necessary a thorough reappraisal, not only of the relationship of mediaeval thought in general to Antiquity and Renaissance, but also of the area and extent of this thought. It is not intended here to follow the course of this research, however exciting that might be. It is however indisputable that Burckhardt's conception of the Middle Ages has proved to be quite untenable, and any historical review of the concept of the Classical Renaissance with its associated concept of the 'Middle Ages' raises misgivings right from the outset. It is an absolute condition of historical research that matters should be associated, one with another, and that events and progress should be seen to be conditioned by what came before, by their 'causes'. This is a term from which most present-day historians would probably recoil, but this is no reason for us to stop looking at events in connection with one another. How otherwise could we understand whatever stands entirely alone? We understand by employing comparison and, faced with the completely exceptional, we are helpless. The classical concept of the Renaissance, which puts the Middle Ages in parentheses, in fact places us in this very situation. The concept is strangely abstract; it detaches the events of the Renaissance from their connection with what went before, and thus disregards that very understanding of 'the historical' which - quite apart from its truth - is the prerequisite of what we mean by historical research. The doubts we may entertain, on grounds of principle alone, concerning this traditional concept have now been confirmed by the work on the Middle Ages carried out by recent generations. It may be said without exaggeration that the classical concept of the Renaissance has long since been punctured by research. We have one of the most tangible proofs of this in the use of the word 'renaissance' itself. Certain historians have envisaged a whole series of 'renaissances', the first at the time of Charlemagne and the last corresponding to the traditional period of the Renaissance, the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The use of the word may be said to have become accepted in relation to

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/u two of these earlier periods: the 'Carolingian Renaissance* of the ninth century, and 'the twelfth-century Renaissance'. It is, however, clear that the concept has here been given different meanings - a useful reminder that all our historical concepts are merely labels by which we seek to summarize an idea. No absolute meaning attaches to the word 'renaissance' itself; the decisive factor in our context is the reappraisal of the Middle Ages reflected in the new manner of employing the concept. Once it is understood that the concept itself contains no absolute reality, it matters very little whether we wish to reserve it for the period long referred to by that name or whether we wish to extend its use to other periods. In any case, the fact that the concept may no longer be used simply in its restrictive meaning shows a better understanding of the Middle Ages. We must considerably qualify the concept. When we speak of the twelfth-century Renaissance we are not thinking of renaissance in the same way as was Burckhardt, but as a rebirth, a flowering, arising to be sure out of something inherited but by reason of a new initiative peculiar to the period concerned. Earlier generations, it is true, had the same heritage but without the accompanying intellectual activity. The word 'renaissance' itself presupposes a heritage taken up and revitalized by a new creative effort. In the context of our culture, we can only concern ourselves with the heritage of Antiquity. It must therefore be accepted - in the newer use of the concept that such a combination of imitation and new initiative was not kept waiting until the fifteenth century but came into being more than once during the Middle Ages. This is not to say that Burckhardt's viewpoint has become unimportant, nor does it mean that we must renounce any attempt to speak of the 'Middle Ages' in the sense of trying to establish the features which - although varied - are common to the greater part of this long period in the history of Europe. But it does mean that the Middle Ages are brought closer to us. The period no longer remains merely the gloomy background to a glorious account of the rebirth of Antiquity, preparing the way for the new period: our Europe! On the contrary, it becomes an essential link in the development that has created our own world. Of course, no one would deny that the Middle Ages were formative for our own

ii/Peter Abelard world in a banal sense, in that the period precedes the centuries that have shaped our present conditions. But the reappraisal that has taken place has made clear the extent to which the Middle Ages themselves played a decisive role in the formation of the traditions upon which later periods have continued to build. What is the feature of the period that has caused us to use the expression 'the twelfth-century Renaissance? Very briefly, it is the revival of the study of Roman law and Greek philosophy, with an emphasis on dialectic. There was however a flowering in all spheres of intellectual life. During this period, the new science that it is customary to refer to as early scholasticism was born. The monastic movement took on a new form, and a new piety, strongly influenced by the desire for subjective experience and understanding of the reality of faith, thrived behind the monastery walls. Intellectual growth in the twelfth century was however by no means limited to churchmen. It was also the golden age of the poetry of chivalry, and in France the study of ancient thought was revived in a manner extending far beyond theological interests. In a strange way, there was a new dedication of tradition, thereby transforming it. This desire for dedication was expressed, in relation to the Christian faith, in the striving towards intellectual understanding and the longing for personal experience. The new science and the new piety were therefore not factors appearing independently of one another, but links in one and the same movement. Tradition had now been given such a stable form that it became possible to attempt independent discussion of it. To be able to see the significance of the new factors, we must now take a glance backwards. It is customary to look upon the intellectual life and teaching methods of the early Middle Ages as manifestations of shocking barbarism compared with ancient times. It is of course true that the collapse of the Roman Empire during the barbarian invasions caused much to decay, but the Germanic peoples by their migrations were drawn fully into the circle of Graeco-Roman culture that had already for centuries exerted an influence upon them. There is no doubt that they were not ready to bear the responsibilities forced upon them in taking over the practical adminis-

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/15 tration of previously Roman areas and the Roman imperial concept itself, and it is well known that the Church was forced to take over in these restless times; indeed it was in many ways equipped for this. Neither should it be forgotten that the Rome which was overrun by the barbarians was Christian Rome. In spite of all, there was continuity. The mediaeval society that took shape after the numerous upheavals consequently had many of its roots in the world of Antiquity. This tends to emphasize that we should not over-stress the distinction between the ancient and mediaeval worlds. But there is yet another factor we might well consider before we use too gloomy colours for our picture. It is not difficult to see the gulf between the Greek schools of philosophy or Cicero's circle on the one hand and the teaching methods at the time of Charlemagne on the other. If we use this yardstick, words like 'barbarization' and 'decay' immediately and forcibly arise. The comparison is however completely mistaken, because the basis is incorrect. The teaching methods of the early Middle Ages were not built upon those of the golden age of Antiquity but upon the methods of late Antiquity. Research into the rhetorical schools of the fourth century has now shown that formalism and traditionalism, considered as essential basic characteristics of the intellectual physiognomy, are by no means the result of the Church's influence but are a link in the heritage that it was left to the Church to administer.1 If we consider these factors for a moment, the distance between late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages immediately becomes less great, although we must accept that it does not disappear. It is not our intention in these comments to deny that the subsequent centuries are in many ways characterized by decay, but to point out that the break is perhaps not quite so violent as is often suggested. The Middle Ages took over their curriculum from Antiquity in the programme expressed as the seven artes liberates, 'the seven liberal arts'. These originally formed the basis of philosophical teaching, but in late Antiquity they became identified with total knowledge. They included on the one hand the linguistic sciences: grammar, rhetoric and dialectic (called the trivium), and on the other the mathematical sciences, arithmetic,

14 /Peter Abelard geometry, music and astronomy (called the quadrivium). Directives for the content and use of these sciences were derived in part from the Roman writer Varro, and in part from a number of sixth-century Christian writers who preserved in their writings the ancient tradition of learning. We refer here to Boethius (c, 480-524), Cassiodorus (c. 490-583) and Isidore of Seville (c. 560-636). Apart from these, Augustine of Hippo (353-430) also bears mention in this connection. They are all important sources of our knowledge of ancient thought and teaching tradition in the early Middle Ages. In this period, the artcs liberates once more took their place as preliminary instruction, but now as preparation for the study of the Bible. This, for example, was clearly their position in Charlemagne's ecclesiastical legislation, which incorporated a programme of higher education that itself became the standard for later centuries. This position for the artes followed of course from the fact that the object of higher education was to train priests. Certain of these sciences had however a tendency in practice to evade this subordinate position. An example of this was rhetoric, which had understandably to tempt its students into the practice of it, even when no higher purpose was thereby served. As we shall see, dialectic also possessed these possibilities. The Carolingian Renaissance, which is closely associated with the Emperor's great efforts towards educational reform, is with one notable exception (John Scotus Erigena, died c. 870) characterized not by original thinkers but by intensive study and much collection of material from Antiquity and the Fathers. This was a revival of past eras only in so far as it took the form of a reproduction. A Belgian historian (J. de Ghellinck) has pointed out that all this diligence led in the main to the scientific and religious luggage of the past being registered. Alongside this reproduction, there was some endeavour in the field of dialectic. Nevertheless, we should not give the period too low an assessment. Later periods were able to benefit from and to build upon the tradition of learning established. There was a review of all knowledge, and the first hesitant attempts were made to systematize it. The lines were laid down for the work of later centuries. If we consider theology, which was in fact the principal aim,

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/15 it consisted mainly of biblical interpretation through glosses; that is to say short textual explanations in the form of an exegesis of individual words and concepts. Until as late as the eleventh century, the systematic effort generally extended no further than the assembly of quotations from the Fathers of the ancient Church in the so-called /Jorilegia, collections of brief statements concerning the truths of the Christian faith. Dialectic was the most important of the profane sciences. It included linguistic logic - the theory of the meaning of words and sentences - and what is referred to as formal logic - the theory of the correct manner of drawing conclusions. Boethius was the great authority on this. Most notably, he made available through translations into Latin important sections of Aristotelian logic. He also wrote a series of commentaries on Aristotle and other ancient writers, and in addition there were his own logical writings. On the face of it, there is nothing very remarkable in the * renaissance* character of the Carolingian epoch. And yet it deserves the title because all its endeavour in the service of tradition was focused towards a definite correlation of the strands of knowledge. Perhaps in the final analysis this is the true renaissancelike characteristic of the period. Charlemagne and his scholars did not act as they did for incidental reasons. All their work in the service of teaching and scholarship was consciously regarded as a link in the recreation of the Roman Empire, which found its political expression in Charlemagne's unification of the Western countries, followed by his coronation as Emperor. During the period immediately after the Carolingian Renaissance, a fairly clear distinction was maintained between the artes liberates and theology, but in the eleventh century there was a marked drawing together. Higher education was provided in the cathedral schools and in certain monastic schools. A number of these schools now blossomed forth, particularly in France. This is true of the cathedral schools in Paris, Rheims, Tours, Laon, Chartres and many others, and also of the monastic school at Bee in Normandy. These schools became centres of scholarship, and from them came the first attempts to escape from slavish adherence to the traditions of the past. In particular, an

16 /Peter Abelard increased interest in dialectic and its theological application can be observed. Theology concentrated entirely on the conservation of the tradition of the Fathers, and the importance of dialectic was restricted mainly to providing the necessary definitions of the meaning of words and concepts. But as soon as the interest in dialectic that arose in the second half of the eleventh century had emancipated itself it was well on the way to a renewed consideration of the traditional theological material from a logical point of view. This is in fact what occurred. In some places theological interest receded into the background in favour of dialectic as an independent occupation, but it was not long before dialectic began to be employed in the consideration of theological problems. This interest provoked fierce resistance in conservative circles, and it may be said that the last half of the century was marked by a conflict over the function of dialectic between dialecticians and anti-dialecticians. The environment can probably best be illustrated by some concrete examples. The best known and possibly most impressive example of this conflict is the so-called Berengarian Eucharistic dispute. Berengar (died 1088), who taught at the cathedral school of Tours, was a professed supporter of the use of dialectic in theology. In his Eucharistic writings, reason was put forward as the opponent of authority, and Berengar did not hesitate to assert that he considered reason, represented by dialectic, to be superior to Church doctrine. Opposition to him was strong, and it was this very opposition that was to influence the period immediately following. The conviction that Berengar's conception of the Eucharist was heretical caused many people to condemn the tool he had employed - dialectic. In addition, its use in practice often led to an empty delight in dispute; for example by the well-known Anselm of Besate, called the Peripatetic. This designation had been applied since ancient times to the followers of Aristotle, but it also fits Anselm quite literally. He was in fact a wandering philosopher, travelling all over Europe in constant search of people with whom he might dispute. His type could readily arouse illwill towards dialectic on the part of conservative theologians. The best known representative of the conservative view is Peter Damian (1006/7-1072). He played a considerable part in

The Twelfth Century Renaissance[17 the movement for Church reform, which sought by all available means to free the Church of worldly influence. He was a zealous castigator of all symptoms of decline within the Church and a keen advocate of ascetic piety as the means towards a restoration of the Church. In the very same manner as can later be observed in Bernard of Clairvaux, his striving after personal piety was associated with a clear politico-ecclesiastical aim, showing no scruple in the use of force against all those who, in his opinion, were obstacles to the work of reformation. He was not only opposed to the use of dialectic in theology, but also to profane science in general. For Damian, the natural world was saturated with sin, and consequently the only worthy attitude was to flee from the world. It was he who formulated the catch phrase that philosophy is justified only as the handmaid of theology, ancilla theologiae. Confronted with theological cognition, even logic must give way. According to Damian, the omnipotence of God is not bound by the principle of contradiction; for example, God can make the done undone. It was therefore not a far cry to the assertion of a double truth; one for theology, another for philosophy. Damian did not take this path, but condemned philosophy, viewed as an independent activity, as the sinful work of man. But Damian did not succeed in preventing the continuation of dialectic study in the schools. There were also more moderate opponents of the consequences flowing from the Berengarian Eucharistic dispute. They did not write off dialectic, but subordinated it to divine authority. One of these men was Berengar's famous opponent Lanfranc, the founder of the monastic school at Bee where his pupils included Anselm of Canterbury. This conflict over dialectic had brought to the fore one of the problems that were inherited by the thought of later centuries: the relationship between reason and revelation, between ratio and cwctoritas. But the Eucharistic dispute did not raise this problem, and it should not be overvalued on these grounds. It is rather part of the evidence that the problem had now become a burning issue. It was not new; it had been an essential theme for Augustine, who had adopted from Antiquity the concept of auctoritas and used it in a Christian context in relation to the authority of the Bible, the Fathers and the Church. But, at the

i8/PeterAbelard same time, he was trying to arrive at a speculative understanding in which reason played an important part. Consequently, when mediaeval theologians began to interest themselves in demonstrating the rational nature of the faith, they were able to turn to Augustine himself, since he offered excellent examples of the use of dialectic in the service of theology. We must stop for a moment before we continue our attempt to show how this problem was tackled around the year 1100, and in this way to understand the background to the activities of the man we are here concerned with. The pair of concepts, auctoritas and ratio, express a point highly characteristic of mediaeval thought. In one sense it is the main problem of the entire period, even during the period 800-1100, the age of reproduction and traditionalism. Sometimes it was dealt with directly, as in the case of John Scotus Erigena, but in every instance it was latent in the method of teaching current at that time. Alongside the gathering of traditional material, dialectical teaching was always evident. By the end of the eleventh century, dialectic had attained such independence that the relationship between reason and authority became a problem for everyone, irrespective of his position. A completely new situation was thereby created; the 'state of innocence* of the prevalent traditionalism was over. It was no longer taken for granted that all effort should be concentrated upon as exact a reproduction as possible of the Church Fathers, for alongside this hereditary attitude there were other viewpoints in deference to which the traditionalist had now knowingly to limit himself. This was a great step forward, because it forced the disputing parties to articulate their positions. In the first phase of the dispute between dialecticians and anti-dialecticians it might appear that the problem was best expressed by a choice: reason or authority. This is an illustration of the attitude of the conservatives, the traditionalists, in relation to Berengar of Tours. But his attitude is not typical of mediaeval thought. It was customary - right up to the end of the Middle Ages - to accept the validity of authority without question, irrespective of the individual's attitude towards the relationship between reason and revelation. The problem was not whether authority was valid before the tribunal of reason, but whether

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/19 and to what extent it was possible to substantiate authority on the basis of reason. Berengar was an exception, but the dispute was continued after he had been rejected by the Church. There was simply no way back to the matter-of-course traditionalism. But it is important to bear in mind that those advocating the use of dialectic in theology normally had no thought of disputing the validity of the authoritative nature of tradition. Mediaeval thinkers did not anticipate the Age of Enlightenment. The inviolable position of the concept of authority throughout the Middle Ages has perhaps more than any other factor contributed to the formation of the impression of intellectual darkness during this period. In fact everyone was dependent upon the Church, all knowledge being limited and dominated by religious dogma, and he who tried his hand at philosophy had to reckon with the authorities! Greek philosophy, initially represented by Plato and later, to a greater degree, by Aristotle, was the basis upon which one built. Against this background, is it therefore unreasonable to look upon this millennium as a regrettable parenthesis in the history of the human intellect? It must appear so to a person with no sense of history. But once it is grasped that our whole existence can be comprehended only as historical existence things begin to look quite different. We then understand, irrespective of what we may think of a later age's clash with the concept of authority, that the road from naive traditionalism to the eventual clash could not evade the discussion of the relationship between reason and authority that became such an essential content of scholastic thought. Consequently, on historical grounds, both the Roman Catholic who considers scholastic thought to be essentially valid even today, at least in its intention, and the so-called 'cultural radical' may regard scholasticism as an important link in the advancing development towards our own times. Traditionalism, both in its naive form and in the form used to fight the dialecticians, considered it to be its duty to sustain as faithfully as possible the teaching of the Fathers. It sought to perform this duty by carefully reproducing what tradition made available. But this was the very means by which the tradition it wished to protect was killed! In this connection it should be pointed out that their reproductions were only a faint reflection

20 /Peter Abelard of the originals. Tradition is alive only when it inspires the creation of new work. As already said, those who advocated the use of dialectic in theology normally had no wish to question the authoritative nature of tradition, but they refused to kill it off merely by reproducing it. From this point of view, it may be said that the period we are here concerned with was the introduction to the revival of tradition that characterizes the following centuries, the age of scholasticism. Apart from the dispute over dialectic, canon law also played its part in intensifying study during this period. In the latter half of the eleventh century, the centuries-long struggle between Pope and Emperor began. Among the basic reasons for this controversy, one of the most important was the religious reform movement of the tenth century, the principal aim of which was to obtain freedom for the Church; that is to say freedom of the affairs of the Church from all worldly influence. This set in motion the tremendous task of exploring and systematizing canon law. Here also it was with the authorities that the work lay. They often did not agree, and efforts were then made to arrive at an adjustment between them. In the effort to arrange and to systematize the many provisions of canon law, experience in method was gained that could be employed in theology, which of course was also concerned with authority. All this laid the foundation for the science we refer to as scholasticism. While the traditional renaissance concept presupposes a sharp contrast between scholasticism and renaissance (humanism), it is the intellectual activity itself of which scholasticism is an expression that has given rise to the term: the twelfth-century Renaissance. There is however no doubt that the humanism of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries saw itself as a reaction, founded upon classical literature, against the styleless and tasteless formalism of scholasticism. In spite of this, there is good reason to use the term 'renaissance' in both cases. It was merely that different aspects of the heritage of Antiquity were revived; in the twelfth century, the judical (the study of Roman Law) and philosophical (dialectic), and in the fifteenth century, the literary. The dominant position of dialectic was the decisive factor in the construction of the science of scholasticism, but it was the means by which style and taste themselves were

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/21 destroyed. This in turn evoked the literary anti-mediaeval renaissance of the fifteenth century. It is apparent that many significant nuances have been disregarded in this characterization; only those factors that first catch the eye have been brought out. As is always the case, the reality was infinitely richer and more varied than is apparent from our attempt to make it comprehensible. For example, much literary activity is also to be found in the twelfth century. The schools at Orleans and Chartres were famous for their teaching of 'grammar', which included a thorough study of ancient literature. Nor did the period lack new poetry, both worldly and religious, some in the style of the classics and some in new forms. In the long run, however, it became difficult for this interest in classical literature to assert itself in the face of the strong competition created by the new translations of Aristotle. By the middle of the century his entire logic was available in Latin, and translations of his other works soon followed. Work upon this enormous amount of material now attracted the attention of almost all intellectuals, and classical studies declined fast in popularity. It was the revival of dialectic and judicial studies that was to characterize the following centuries. Before we try to analyse more closely the characteristics of early scholasticism, it would be as well to take a look at its social and economic background; we have been concerned so far mainly with the intellectual background. A peculiarity of the environment of study around the year 1100, that is to say at the time scholasticism seriously commenced, was that the new activity throve almost exclusively in the cathedral schools, while the monastic schools that had dominated the field in the previous century rapidly lost significance. The monastic school at Bee was at the end of the eleventh century the last monastic school of importance in the flowering of the sciences. The circumstances are so marked that there is reason to ask why this happened. A Russian scholar, N. A. Sidorova, in a treatise on Abelard (which as concerns Abelard's thought is more confusing than informative) has set out viewpoints of a socio-economic nature in accordance with Soviet Russian dogma. It is asserted that Abelard's background was in the development of the towns - a feature in contrast to feudal society. Abelard is here interpreted

22/Peter Abelard as a representative of la premiere civilisation citadine en France and the proceedings against him, particularly those initiated by Bernard of Clairvaux, are seen as the reaction of the feudal Church against this new culture. Apart from this the treatise has no interest, but it must be conceded that the suggestion itself gives expression to a point of substance.2 The religious reform movement was mainly inspired by the monasteries, and it is interesting that the Cluniacs and their contemporaries were tied to the feudal system of society. In the struggle for the freedom of the Church, the innate secular bias of the sciences and of literature had been taken for granted, and for this reason these intellectual pursuits were looked upon with suspicion by the reformers. The Cistercian Order, the most important twelfthcentury innovation within the monastic movement, had no school for anyone but the monks, and study as such formed no part of the programme of the Order. In the twelfth century the initiative passed to other hands and the monasteries were left in isolation, which was certainly better suited to their purposes; it was in the cathedral schools in the cities that study flourished. It is clear that the social circumstance behind this development was the advancing urbanization of society. In twelfth-century France, a tangible expression of this was the struggle of the municipalities for independence from both spiritual and worldly masters. In this environment, study was given a far wider purpose than it had had in the monasteries, where it had always been subordinate to the spirit of monastic life. This development was strengthened by advancing centralization. As early as the beginning of the century, we find the most important centres of study located in Francia, that is to say in the area around Paris, and with Abelard Paris attained an absolute leading position for the first time.8 These new schools gave rise to an intellectual environment that was somewhat removed from the programme of the reformed Orders. The monasteries consequently became the strongholds of conservatism and traditionalism, while it was the cathedral schools that gave birth to 'the twelfth-century Renaissance'. These schools provided the foundation for the great mediaeval movement in the development of scholarly life - the universities. No contribution whatever was made to this by the

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/25 various monastic and canonical reforms. This is not to imply that individual persons active in these circles did not contribute. Some of them did so, even considerably, but as a movement their reaction to the new intellectual activity was no more than a powerless attempt to arrest the questioning that was to set in motion enormous spiritual forces. Similarly, the type of society they represented was to be overcome by the bourgeoisie. To summarize, it may be said that two features were combined in early scholasticism. On the one hand, there was the attempt, with the help of dialectic, to master the substance of faith in the form of understanding. On the other hand, the recognition of the differences between the many traditional authorities, first perceived in canon law, impelled the scholastics towards systematic arrangement and summarization. In both cases the concept of authority, itself unquestioned, produced a number of problems whose solution appeared to be imperative. The new complex of problems caused the work of the schools to be greatly intensified and created new literary forms in scientific investigation. The scholastic quaestio was created. This word is characteristic of the situation, because now the manifold areas covered by traditional dogma came themselves to be questioned. The manner of this was not to doubt their truth, but to acknowledge that in many cases there were difficulties to be cleared away before what had been inherited from the Fathers could be re-confirmed. In teaching, the so-called lectio had since olden times played the main part. It consisted of a type of lecture on one book or another that was read aloud paragraph by paragraph and commented upon, following the gloss method. Now another working method appropriate to the new manner of presenting a problem was added to this: disputatiot in which it was sought to penetrate a problem by logical analysis in conversational form.4 The first to give original expression to the new endeavours was Anselm of Canterbury (1033/34-1109). He considered it his task, accepting the basic truth of authority, to trace the foundation of faith, the rationale of faith. His programme is clearly expressed in the following often-quoted words from the introduction to the treatise Proslogion: 'I do not seek, oh Lord, to penetrate Your sublimity, as I in no way compare my understanding therewith; but I desire to some extent to understand

24/Peter Abelard Your truth, which my heart believes and loves. That is to say, I do not seek to understand so that I may believe, but I believe so that I may understand/5 Faith for Anselm therefore was an absolute pre-condition of understanding. On another occasion he rejected any discussion concerning the truth and reality of faith. What could and must be investigated, however, is why this is so. If this can be understood, God is to be thanked; if it is impossible, one must bow down in adoration.6 Against this background, it comes as no surprise that authority was Anselm's unshakable starting point. Nevertheless, direct references to the authorities are to be found with surprising rarity in his writings. This is precisely where he demonstrated that he differed profoundly from earlier theologians, who had concerned themselves primarily with assembling the authorities. This difference is associated with Anselm's conscious striving to go beyond the available information. He wished to achieve a rational insight into the content of faith and to solve the difficulties arising from a speculative preoccupation with the truth of faith. It was consequently necessary to reach beyond faith as found in the Bible and in the Church Fathers, and it was therefore natural that the proofs of Holy Writ and of the Fathers could not form the substance of Anselm's writings. He made use essentially of two methods to arrive at the desired insight. First, he sought, following Augustine's example, to comprehend God by a speculative immersion in the analogies of the divine in Creation, particularly rational Creation. The more the rational intellect immerses itself, the more it understands the God whose image it is.7 The other method was a theological development of logic. Anselm had received a thorough dialectical training at Lanfranc's school. His writings bear witness to a wide familiarity with Aristotle, in so far as he was known at that time. The dialectical orientation is shown in the care taken to define the concept precisely and in his predilection for dialogue.8 The significance of this theological platform is principally remarkable in that here for the first time expression was given to what was to be the aspiration of scholasticism: to reach, on the basis of Church authority, a thoroughly rational understanding of the mysteries of faith. Viewed in a later historical perspective, Anselm's importance

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/25 for subsequent times lies in his revitalizing tradition by using it as a starting point instead of repeating it. The complex of problems that determined his theological work was already current, but he was the first to succeed in giving shape to what at the time existed only in the form of trends and attempts - to such a degree that posterity found the path already marked out. But this is not to say that his theological method was taken over directly by the scholastic theologians. It is true that his pupils became the most influential teachers during the early decades of the twelfth century, but they had not the stature of their master, and they met their superior in one of their own pupils, Peter Abelard. In his autobiography, he has drawn a picture of the famous teachers of his youth, Anselm of Laon and William of Champeaux. These two theologians were well chosen to emphasize his own importance, but he probably did not do them sufficient justice. There is no doubt that Abelard was the superior of both these men, but at the same time he used their work as a basis, developed their methods and led them on to victory. The German historical theologian, Reinhold Seeberg, has made a comparison between Anselm of Canterbury and Abelard which is worth considering. For both men, the problem is the relationship between ratio and auctoritas. But whereas Anselm saw Church doctrine more as the Church's historical purpose in its entirety, Abelard considered particularly the individual dogmas valid in canon law. Anselm employed both the Bible and the authority of the Fathers to the extent that he identified himself with the ideas he considered representative, and thereafter he worked on from this basis. But for Abelard the authorities appeared everywhere as individual statements which could be played off against one another, so that the task became one of mitigating and overcoming incompatibilities.9 This method has its quintessence in one of Abelard's treatises: Sic et non; that is, Yes and No. In the prologue to this, Abelard gives directions for the evaluation and discussion of conflicting authorities. He gives particular weight to the consideration of incompatibilities by linguistic analysis: are they real or do they merely rest on the different use of words? Apart from this, he lays down rules for examining the genuineness and the degree of commitment of the authorities; the authority

26/Peter Abelard of the Bible stands above all others. It is clear that this conception gave great latitude to dialectic. It would be wrong however to conclude from this that Abelard's intentions were in line with those of a man like Berengar of Tours. As we shall see, he was highly aware of the dangers that might flow from too great a confidence in dialectical ability. For Abelard also, Church dogma was the unquestionable basis. He had no wish to place dialectic above theology, but by its use he wished to understand revelation as far as is possible and to reconcile incompatibilities. The history of the period shows that this typical mediaeval subordination to authority, theological as well as philosophical, in no way signified a narrowing of the opportunities for thought, as might be believed on the basis of our assumptions. It was true that the authorities were indisputable, but they could and must be interpreted. Herein lay the opportunity. In certain fields, particularly in grammar and in the literary forms of expression, authority might lead to servility to the model, but in theology and philosophy interpretation presented an opportunity for an infinity of nuances. The difference between Abelard and Anselm was of course largely determined by their individual talents, but their different careers also contributed to this. For Anselm of Canterbury, theological study was bound up with the contemplative life. Prayer, meditation and theology formed one whole. Although he reached high office, he remained the monk who in his search for God yearned also for that insight which even in life could grant him a foretaste of heavenly glory. Abelard's starting point is quite different. His faculty for the higher studies was recognized early on. From the outset he was the professional scholar whose ambition was to have his own school. In the matter of theological study, he was convinced that whoever knew the craft - that is dialectic - was the possessor of the most important equipment. The rest was merely reading the necessary works, that is to say the Bible and the Fathers. The profession was the starting point, which tells us nothing whatever about Abelard's relationship to the Church. What it does show, however, is that his entry into the field is of a different nature from that of Anselm of Canterbury. In this sense, Abelard is a school

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/27 theologian in a manner quite different from Anselm. This is due not only to psychological differences between the two, but also to the simple fact that external conditions had changed between Anselm's youth and Abelard's youth. Scholasticism was now a reality in the sense that, cutting across all intellectual movements and currents, cutting across all private motives and desires, there existed an academic climate, so to speak, with competing scholastic traditions and intellectual ambitions. It is not intended here to suggest that Anselm, as a type, is only conceivable before the foundation of the schools took on a true professional character; on the contrary, the subsequent history of scholasticism continued to display a wealth of nuances impossible to summarize into formulae. It is rather the intention to point out that Abelard's entry into theological study was in no way an expression of irreligious and so-called liberal thought; all this was alien to him. But the development of the original scholastic theology about the year 1100 made his attitude possible without interfering with other attitudes, all within the framework of the Church. It might perhaps be said that Abelard personified more than many others what was new, introduced by scholastic theology - in its capacity as a professional activity - into the intellectual life of the period. This he did, on the one hand, on the strength of his eminent ability - it was impossible not to notice him - but on the other hand, he was perhaps more responsible for developments than many because some of the other great names of the period, while remaining scholastic theologians, carried on with the old pursuits to a greater extent than he. This was the position with a number of theologians who were monks first and foremost. In the case of Abelard, the 'modern' trends were quite undisguised by old and longacknowledged features. It is probably correct to see in this fact part of the explanation for the offence he so deeply gave, particularly among the supporters of monastic reform. In these circles the attitude was quite different. We may take as an example the man who was to become Abelard's great opponent, Bernard of Clairvaux. We have emphasized earlier the great difference between Anselm of Canterbury and Abelard. But although Bernard turned upon Abelard with every weapon at his disposal, it would be wrong to think that he felt

28/Peter Abelard akin to Anselm. This was in no way true. If we look more closely at his conception of theology and science, it soon becomes clear that he was forced to react to Abelard as he did.10 Bernard was no opponent of theology, but he fixed very definite limits for it. Theology should not concern itself with knowing everything possible but should concentrate on the only thing important to Bernard: the understanding of God and self. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge he considered to be empty curiosity. He therefore had little time for philosophy. It led easily to arrogance, and therefore away from the knowledge of salvation, which cannot be acquired without humility. To reduce theological thought to a question of dialectical ability seemed to him outrageous, since it is of the Holy Ghost and is therefore not determined simply by human reason; understanding and love cannot be separated. In his opinions, Bernard was thoroughly conservative; he wished to protect tradition and to be simple and yet cautious in all theological statements. He usually preferred to express himself in biblical terms, and he would not venture into speculation that was too lofty for him. It was not for man to concern himself with the exploration of God's majesty, but merely to be eager to know His will. Bernard wished not so much to explain as to fertilize the heart. He therefore had misgivings about Anselm of Canterbury's method of pursuing theology. The question for him was whether the insight Anselm strove after can be found at all on earth. We live in the shadow of faith; Bernard believed therefore not so much in understanding as in yearning and love. His dislike of Abelard arose from his method of study: speculation and curiosity makes man forget man himself, that is to say the knowledge that is his only concern - the understanding of his true position in relation to God. It is natural that Bernard found it difficult to come to terms with the developments in the field of theology during his lifetime. We have tried to indicate here the lines of demarcation within twelfth-century thought in a brief survey of the most important viewpoints, as they appeared to Anselm of Canterbury, Abelard and Bernard. This should not be taken to represent completely the individual opinions of these theologians; there were in fact

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/29 very wide-spread variations in all three cases. History today often distinguishes between * scholastic* and 'monastic' theology. The latter concept has carried weight in recent years, and it may be appropriate, in connection with the conflicts of the twelfth century, to explain in rather more detail what is meant by this. It should be possible in this way to pursue and develop from a slightly different aspect the considerations necessary to understand the 'renaissance' that have been put forward above. A natural starting point is perhaps the dispute already referred to between dialecticians and anti-dialecticians that marked the latter half of the eleventh century. The opposition came particularly from those monks who saw in the ever-growing influence of dialectic a wrong turning, an emancipation of thought. The theology practised in the monasteries until then and this means in general all existing theology - had a quite definite purpose: to serve monastic life. The new version, originating largely in the cathedral schools, had however an intellectual bias which was alien to the older theology. In the twelfth century, therefore, two types of theology existed alongside one another, sometimes in conflict but always different in purpose, although it must be appreciated that the transitions are gradual. In the thirteenth century, scholasticism stood out as the victor, no longer with any 'monastic' theology of importance at its side. This is partly because there was no longer a monastic culture that could compete in intensity and originality with that of the twelfth century, but it was also because the 'new' theology, scholasticism, was no longer new and therefore no longer an object of suspicion to the monks. Indeed, they themselves and the friars supplied most of the great teachers of high scholasticism. If we now look at Anselm of Canterbury against this background, he must be regarded as a typical transitional figure. He stemmed from the famous monastery school at Bee and his theology had a pronounced purpose of personal contemplation, although he employed to a high degree the aids regarded with suspicion by the conservatives. He therefore stood outside the sharp differentiation that was to be witnessed later, but this placing is also perhaps why he had no significant direct influence

30/Peter Abelard during the period immediately following. Bernard had no use for him, and his own pupils became scholastics in the true sense. But how then can we characterize more closely the difference between scholastic and monastic theology? It can perhaps be seen most clearly in the critics of the new theology, for example Rupert of Deutz (c. 1070-1129) who compared the new schools with Christ's school, schola Christi. What exasperated him was the objectification that arose - that is, the scientific purpose itself; the aim was to find causes and reasons. For Rupert, there was only one reason (ratio) of importance - the will of God. In the new endeavours he saw a profanation of sacra pagina, Holy Scripture, and therefore of revelation. In schola Christi there is no place for syllogisms, he said. Another opponent of the new theology put out a treatise under the heading: 'Concerning God's Prescience Towards the Curious', in which another substantial accusation from the 'monastic' side was put forward: one stands amazed before the attempt to defend the faith rationally; it remains a mystery, not analogous to this world and its wisdom. From the monastic viewpoint, nature and history can never have intrinsic value, but can at the most be used symbolically in the service of a higher cause. This is something quite different from what occurs in scholasticism. As monks although still on earth - live their life in heaven, the earthly can have significance for them only in the form of an image, that is to say as a symbol of heavenly reality.11 Monastic theology differed from the scholastic not only in its purpose but also in its method; and finally, it may be added, in its sources.12 In both camps there was of course study of the Bible and of the Fathers, but the scholastics added the pagan philosophers to this. In the monasteries they had no use for these; the Bible clearly occupied first place. We must remember, however, that the Bible was never studied as an isolated literary document but parallel with a living and historical tradition; its environment, so to say, was that of the liturgy. We must also remember that all monks at that time, before the mendicant Orders were founded, were choir monks. This cardinal point of monastic life was predetermined by a number of texts, with the monastic Rules of Benedict and Basil in the fore. Apart from

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/51 this, many monasteries possessed a rich assortment of the Latin and Greek Fathers. Although knowledge of the Greek language was slight, what was referred to as the 'light of the East* (orientate lumen) had never been forgotten in the monasteries. It is, however, certain that, in monastic theology particularly, the old Latin translations of the Greek provided new inspiration in the twelfth century. The translations of Origen were particularly important. This whole background caused the monks to be attracted most to that scholastic theology which was of a traditional character. Examination of the German libraries of the period has shown that the scholastic texts most frequently represented in the monasteries of the twelfth century were those of Anselm of Laon, William of Champeaux and Hugh of St Victor. All three were regular canons; that is to say they lived a communal life which in general offered similar living conditions to those of the monks. People therefore tended to gather around those whose teaching had a patristic character; that is, was founded upon the Fathers. Monks were critical of Abelard and his contemporary Gilbert de la Porree - even of Anselm of Canterbury - and did not seek to read their works. There is no doubt that the position in the libraries is expressive of a clear choice. The monks saw the Christian sources, the Bible and the Fathers, as no more than instruments in their yearning to reach the source of life itself, the living faith. Consequently they were not concerned with explaining the dogma and drawing conclusions by means of dialectic, but with salvation, the unity of man with God, which was their vocation. They concentrated their attention upon the life of Jesus, upon the Church and upon the Eucharist. They wished to attain perfect love, which is the fulfilment of the law. Everything else, even the dogma itself, were no more than means. The many tracts De caritate (concerning love) consequently characterize monastic theology of the twelfth century. In this they found no help in Aristotle's logic, but turned more towards Origen and Augustine. Finally, the method was also different from that of scholasticism. Indeed, one can scarcely speak of a method. Scholasticism was characterized by speculation and abstraction; monastic theology by concrete experience. Scholasticism was analytical;

32,/Peter Abelard it proceeded from point to point in an advancing movement of thought. Monastic theology was distinctly synthetic; it always had the whole aim in mind and did not become bogged down in detail; it reduced everything to the unique mystery, God, Who is love revealed in Christ. Consequently, prayer and meditation were its true elements, and it did not constantly seek, as did scholasticism, to expand the range of its understanding. Intellectual activity was dominated by a^ectus, the impassioned search for God which alone legitimized it. The contrast we have here tried to explain belongs in the theological field. The people of the reform movement might well regard with suspicion the great academic activity then current in philosophy and literature. They might try as best they could to suppress these occupations in the monasteries, but it was first and foremost the new theology that aroused their wrath. The most surprising manifestation of this is that in the twelfth century it was to be neither the renewed interest in nature nor the intensive preoccupation with classical writers that raised doubts about tradition; it was, in particular, theology. At the beginning of the century, natural science was at a very low level, but during the following period the Greek mathematicians, scientists and doctors were translated into Latin. A number of Arabic works followed later. By about 1250, the Latin world was in possession of almost the entire achievement of Antiquity as well as of Islam in these fields. But however much this new knowledge may have contributed to an understanding of nature, it represented no revolution in the understanding of man and his world. We have strong proof of the spread of classical education in contemporary letter writing, in itself a typical 'renaissance' feature.18 As in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, letter writing was cultivated as an art; one imitated the classical writers and demonstrated one's knowledge of them by numerous quotations. Letters became objects of great collector interest, and cultured people of the time formed collections of their letters, both sent and received.14 Even pious monks were not unaffected by this atmosphere. In one sense it is justifiable to speak of a humanistic current within intellectual life of the period, but it became more of an ornament, a studied elegance, than a Christian element. People amused themselves with a little innocent worldli-

The Twelfth Century Renaissance/33 ness without allowing this is any way to prejudice the religious interpretation of life. It should however be added that this worldliness was not always quite so innocent. It is completely wrong to imagine that intellectual life in the Middle Ages, under 'the dominating influence of the Church', presented an image similar in some respects to our picture of the golden age of Puritanism in England after the fall of Charles I, or of life in Calvin's Geneva. Some of the poetry of the twelfth century, for example, is nothing less than shocking even to our hardened senses. The same men wrote hymns for the Church and drinking songs that in coarseness and worldly greed have scarcely been surpassed. Satire flourished, and nothing was sacred to it. Ovid was one of the most popular of the ancient writers.15 All this, however, led to no crisis. It is rather proof of how undisputed was the basic attitude of the Church. This is also true of the distinct disposition towards blasphemy often expressed in the literary products of the period, particularly in poems and songs. This was an abreaction, so to speak, against what no one for a moment would have considered toppling from its supremacy. It was quite a different matter when a theologian identified with the renaissance used the new knowledge to formulate new questions in relation to the traditional dogmas. In these circumstances it was possible for classical literature, the new understanding of nature and, most of all, dialectic to lead to a collision with the advocates of tradition. Among the thinkers of the twelfth century, there is scarcely any better person than Peter Abelard to illustrate these conflicts. By virtue of his stature and his importance to later generations he is one of the most characteristic personalities of the renaissance. Apart from this, his life story, which will be told in the following pages, provides a colourful and varied picture of academic and religious life in the first half of the twelfth century.

CHAPTER 2

The Young Dialectician

The main source of our knowledge of Abelard's life is his autobiography, Historia calamitatum suarum 'The Story of his Misfortunes'. This little treatise in the form of a letter was written at the beginning of the 1130$. At that time his situation was somewhat miserable, and this affects his manner of looking back on his stormy life. Fortunately we can at a number of points supplement the knowledge made available to us in the autobiography by information from other quarters. There are for example a small number of letters to and from Abelard, and he was such a remarkable person that he is mentioned in a number of contemporary letters and accounts. But in spite of this there remain certain gaps in our knowledge of his career; we must often be content with assumptions that we are unable to confirm from the sources. The autobiography, which he professes to have been written to a friend to console him in his misery, is remarkable for the frankness and ruthlessness with which the author reveals his own errors. This however does not prevent its being at the same time supported by much egotism and - undeniably - selfpity. When we know more of Abelard's fate, we shall be wary about passing judgment on him for this reason. It is difficult not to feel discomfort at the unshakable self-confidence he displays. If he is to be believed, it had been difficult for him all through his life to find his equal on an academic level. He had always been the victor; others had always been forced to give in to his superi-

The Young Dialectician/35 ority and, for this reason, they had always become envious of him and had vented their resentment in unjust persecution. Can this be true? Strange to say, Abelard's statements are, in this respect, largely confirmed by much contemporary evidence from both friend and foe.1 It appears to be true that he never had the experience of meeting an equal opponent and that his personality and teaching had a public attraction previously unknown. That envy is the reason for the negative reactions to this is of course Abelard's personal interpretation, and only his friends were able to agree with him here. It is however indisputable that his presence always gave cause for strife. Controversy was simply his true element. When he was finally overcome, it was not under his conditions - in an academic dispute - but by an agency in the face of which he was powerless: the personal influence of Saint Bernard. We shall return to this later. For the moment we shall follow Abelard's career up to the time when, through his meeting with Heloise, he was diverted from his course. Abelard was born in 1079 in the town of Le Pallet in Brittany, not far from Nantes. His father, Berengar, was a knight in the service of the Count of Brittany. His mother's name was Lucia. We know almost nothing of Abelard's childhood. He himself writes that his father had some education and that he took great care over his sons' upbringing and education. Peter was the eldest and therefore heir to the father's vassal rights. But when he had received his initial instruction in scholarship, in which he made rapid and easy progress, he completely renounced his father's way of life: 'I was overcome by such a love of scholarship that I left to my brothers the glory and honours of war together with my inheritance and the right of primogeniture and broke away completely from the Courts of Mars to be raised in the lap of Minerva. I preferred the warfare of dialectical methods to all other teachings in philosophy, and so I exchanged military weapons for others and set the battles of verbal dispute above the trophies of war. I therefore travelled through many provinces in order to dispute, and I appeared as an imitator of the Peripatetics wherever I heard that this art was eagerly cultivated.'2 These words from the autobiography not only inform us of Abelard's decision to choose a different career from that of his

$6/Peter Abelard family but also illuminate remarkably the environment of study when Abelard was a young man. Although the seven artes liberates were the accepted basis for all higher education, it must not be imagined that all these arts were cultivated to the same degree by every student and in every school. Abelard's account, as we know from many other sources, comes much nearer to the truth. Each person chose a special field for himself, and to study it he had to seek those schools where he could expect to increase his knowledge in that field specifically.8 From the age of fifteen or perhaps even earlier Abelard was presumably one of the wandering 'scholars'. It was the masters of dialectic he sought. We know that throughout his life his knowledge of mathematics was quite small, and it is probable that he was in general very little interested in the so-called real sciences, the quadrivium. His interest concentrated upon the trtviwtn, the rational disciplines. Grammar and rhetoric were the labels under which classical literature was studied. In these he was well versed, but he gave first place to the senior of the trivtutn, dialectic. Unfortunately we have little information as to the schools he visited in his early youth before reaching Paris, although one of the first places he resided at must have been the town of Loches where one of the most famous dialecticians of the time, Roscelin, was teaching. He had led a tumultuous life. Because of the consequences of his dialectic upon the teaching concerning the Trinity he had fallen foul of the Church authorities, and for the rest of his life he remained a somewhat suspicious personage in the eyes of his contemporaries. When Abelard later appeared in public he always tried clearly to disassociate himself from Roscelin, although he made no attempt to conceal that he had been his pupil. Roscelin's reputation is probably the reason for his not being mentioned in the autobiography in this context.4 We may assume that Abelard's travels brought him nearer and nearer to Paris. He arrived probably around the year 1100, but it is not possible to be precise in this. He writes that the art of dialectic 'already then' flourished mostly in that city. The foremost master was the respected William of Champeaux, Archdeacon of Notre Dame. He was a pupil of Anselm of Laon, and alongside him the most important name in the French

The Young Dialectician fyj academic world at that time. Abelard, who is otherwise not very generous in praising his contemporaries, writes that he was * justly' considered the most outstanding figure in dialectic. As the centre of Capetian power, Paris had a natural advantage in attaining the leading position in scholarship, and there is no doubt that William had increased the reputation of the school. It must be assumed that when Abelard arrived it was already held in such esteem that only Chartres among the provincial schools could contend for precedence with it. Some people believe that Abelard before his residence in Paris had been at Chartres for some time, but we have no certain knowledge about this. At all events it was natural that Paris and not Chartres should become his actual domicile as a pupil and a teacher, for at Chartres the study of sciences other than that of Abelard's choice was preferred. The Chartres school became the centre of twelfth-century humanism, the study of classical literature, and particularly for the study of the natural sciences. In Paris, the new arrival's sharp intelligence and quick aptitude soon won the attention of the master, but it was not long before they fell out. We have only Abelard's account of the matter, but if we compare this with the conclusion that can be reached on the basis of his other writings it is not difficult to imagine what happened. It is clear that such a gifted pupil was certain to please William, but his enthusiasm soon cooled when it appeared that the young disciple was quite lacking in modesty or in respect towards his teacher when the latter put forward points of view that Abelard believed he could refute. Abelard was taken up with the subject, passionately engaged with the work, and showed no consideration. William's pleasure in his talents therefore rapidly turned to wrath at his impudence. The mature man with the respected name became indignant with the greenhorn who behaved as if he were his equal. Apart from this, Abelard's fellow disciples, many of whom were much older than he, shared their teacher's anger; he directly ignored their precedence in age and years of study in his attempts to be a match for their master. What was particularly wrong of course was that he often succeeded in this! In defeating the teacher he trampled on the disciples: 'This was the beginning of my misfortunes, which are still pursuing me; the more my reputation

38/PeterAbdard spread, the more others were inflamed with envy against me.5 This assessment of the situation during his first period in Paris is probably not completely incorrect, but it must be added that Abelard would scarcely have made the slightest effort to soften William's defeat and thereby lessen the feeling of inferiority among his fellow disciples. Without doubt he was quite intolerable in his distinct awareness of his own superiority. By his behaviour, he gave aversion, already aroused by his mere ability, an appearance of justification; for William and his disciples, virtuous indignation at his blind arrogance could hide the burden of their own envy. It differed very little from the many instances of a similar kind of which Abelard's life was so full. Although his arrogance was perhaps broken by his many misfortunes, he continued by nature and ability to be eager for the fight in the sure certainty that he possessed weapons which made verbal combat a pleasure, and of course there was no decrease in the dislike of him when others realized that he was guilty of no self-deception. The position at William's school became intolerable; perhaps also Abelard felt that he was wasting his time. In any event, he now wished to put himself forward as a teacher. The only question was, where should he establish his school. He chose Melun, from whence he soon moved to Corbeil which was nearer Paris. He writes that William did everything in his power to prevent his setting up his own school, and was particularly insistent that it should not be near Paris. Abelard sees this as no more than a manifestation of envy, but it is also possible that William considered it his duty to prevent a young disciple, whose education according to the contemporary standard was far from finished, from appearing as an independent master. We have of course no possibility of assessing the feelings that motivated William, but they may not have been as wicked as Abelard wished to make them appear. William may have been envious, but Abelard was, to say the least, vindictive: 'From the outset of my activity in this school I began to win such a name as a dialectician that the reputation not only of my fellow pupils but also of my teacher faded little by little. The result was that I gained even more self-confidence, and as quickly as possible I moved my school to the town of Corbeil, this town being nearer Paris, to be able to

The Young Dialectician/39 deliver from there more frequent and violent dialectical attacks against the enemy/6 We have no reason to doubt the account of his rapidly growing reputation, but at the same time Abelard clearly shows that he now desired the total ruin of William. One can hardly blame William for trying to delay the accomplishment of this plan. Meanwhile, William soon acquired an unexpected ally in Abelard's delicate health. The sojourn at Corbeil had not lasted long before over-exertion forced Abelard to close the school and to return home to his family, where he remained for several years. When in 1108 he appeared in Paris once again William had left his office at Notre Dame; he had founded an institution for regular canons and had himself taken vows. He had not however given up his studies; in the new monastery, St Victor, he continued his public lectures. Abelard says - without directly subscribing to this opinion - that 'it was said that William's decision to change his way of life was the result of ambition, since he hoped in this way to find it easier to obtain a bishopric, whereas his vocation for monastic life is said to have been questionable/ Although Abelard cautiously avoids saying this himself, the intention is obvious enough. Whatever the truth of this, William certainly founded a school at St Victor whose importance was soon to increase by reason of its greatest name: Hugh of St Victor. Abelard now began once again to listen to William's lectures, this time on the subject of rhetoric. As might be expected, they were soon in conflict with one another. Indeed, it is tempting to believe that Abelard attended not in the expectation of learning but merely to find new opportunities to demonstrate his superiority in discussion with the master. If this was his intention, he fully succeeded. If earlier he had shaken William's confidence, he now rendered his position as a teacher impossible. He forced William to give up his former conception of universals, as a consequence of which William's pupils, in contempt for their teacher, began to gather around Abelard. It is appropriate here to make some reference to the basic facts of this dispute. In the autobiography, the result of the dispute is referred to with a certain amount of surprise. Abelard recounts that, after

4o/Peter Abdard William had been forced to abandon his opinion on universals, he was scarcely 'permitted to teach dialectic any longer; just as if the whole subject rested solely upon this proposition of universals/7 In spite of his condescending evaluation of William, Abelard appears to have considered this reaction unreasonable; dialectic was much more than the concept of universals. The basis of the disparity between William and Abelard may be accurately observed in their widely different conception of the meaning of dialectical investigation. Not for nothing had Abelard been taught by the famous Roscelin, although later he sought to dissociate himself from him. Dialectic to Abelard was on the one hand the science of distinguishing between valid and invalid arguments, and on the other of finding one's way to the arguments themselves. Consequently, the dialectician is not concerned with the things of this world but with the words by which we indicate these things. Logic is therefore the science of words; that is to say, linguistic logic. Consequently its primary task is to examine what we mean by our concepts in so far as we express them in words. It is then a matter of carrying out the necessary grammatical examination to discover what words and statements mean in the widely different connections in which they can be used. To occupy oneself with things is, to Abelard, to practise not logic but physics. This did not necessarily mean indeed for his part he had no such intention - that he was sceptical of the validity of our understanding of things, but he simply wished to keep the individual disciplines sharply distinct. There were however others, and among them William, who had an entirely different conception. To them, logic was also concerned with things, although in a linguistic form. These 'realists' did not distinguish in the same manner between things outside consciousness and the linguistic expression of the understanding of them. From this difference, which asserted itself in relation to all questions of logic, there now sprang the dispute concerning the reality of universals. Do the universals we make use of, for example 'man', 'animal', 'flower', correspond to realities outside awareness in the way that these terms in themselves are outside awareness, quite distinct from the individually existent things that comprise them, or is this a matter merely of words by which we sum-

The Young Dialectician/41 marize the conclusive similarities in a number of independent, existent individuals? This problem was taken over from Antiquity by the philosophy of the Middle Ages, and it gave cause for endless dispute. The strife between William and Abelard already referred to was concerned with this. William was an advocate of the so-called 'naive realism' which recognized the reality of universals above and independent of the individuals falling within them. By means of his Aristotelian dialectic, Abelard put him in his place to such effect that he was forced to admit defeat. It is easy to understand, bearing in mind the importance of the question at that time, that this cost him his prestige in the intellectual world of Paris. The remark referred to above - 'just as if the whole subject rested solely upon this proposition of universals' - shows that Abelard clearly realized that this was merely a question of detail. This victory led to an enormous triumph. The new master who succeeded William at the Paris schools now voluntarily withdrew and handed over his position to Abelard, seating himself beneath his lectern. This pleasure was short-lived however as William contrived the dismissal of his successor and his replacement by another, who was of course under no commitment to leave the teaching to Abelard. There was nothing left for Abelard to do but to leave Paris. For a short time he ran a school once more at Melun, but when he learned that William had left Paris he soon returned. This time he settled a little outside the city at the monastery on Mont Ste Genevieve. He does not conceal in his autobiography his intention in this. 'I returned to Paris from Melun immediately in the hope that he (i.e. William) would hereafter leave me in peace. But as I have said, he had caused my position to be occupied by my rival, so I set up camp with my school outside the city on the Mount of the Holy Genevieve in order to, so to say, besiege this man who had taken possession of my place/8 It was therefore Abelard's intention by his presence to make the position of William's successor impossible. He recounts that William now returned to come to the rescue of his protege, but that he only succeeded in damaging him so much that he lost his remaining pupils and was forced to discontinue teaching. Abelard refrains from describing in more detail his and his disciples' struggles during this phase, but

42 /Peter Abdard proudly refers to what everyone knows! William was now completely ruined from an intellectual viewpoint, and Abelard was left with no significant rival To all appearances it was now time to reap the fruits of victory. He was then suddenly called to his home. The event that caused him to return home was quite ordinary at that time. After the children had grown up, the parents had decided to dissolve their home and to take vows. Berengar had already entered a monastery, and Lucia now wished to say farewell to her eldest son before she followed his example. We have no information about his conversations with his mother, but on his return Abelard discontinued his teaching in Paris. Meanwhile, William had become Bishop of Chalons, to which Abelard refers as some kind of reason for his now wishing to include theology in his studies. It is difficult to see any direct connection between William's appointment and this decision. Had he in mind that he might hope for future peace by also setting up as a teacher of theology, or had this subject become 'available' through William's departure? We do not know. It has been suggested that his mother's influence is a possibility, and this may well be true. It would be quite reasonable for her, on the threshold of the nunnery, to admonish her son to study the knowledge of salvation. Whatever may be the background, Abelard left for Laon to hear the famous Anselm (c. 1050-1117), the greatest name of the period in theology. Recent research has fully confirmed his reputation and the consequent spread of his school.9 His attitude was distinctly conservative, strongly bound up with the Fathers, and in his treatment of dogma not very systematic, in that he discussed the various problems within the biblical, historical framework. Dialectic played a very limited role in his theology. It is not surprising that Abelard was disappointed, a fact that he in no way concealed. 'I therefore made my way to this old man who had made his name more through his long years of activity than by intelligence and memory.'10 As may be seen, Abelard was no advocate of the seniority principle so favoured today! His further description of Anselm's teaching points clearly to what Anselm lacked. The suggestion is that he was very good for those who listened to him, as his volubility was wonderful,

The Young Dialectician/43 but that he was impossible for those who put questions to him, and his words lacked foundation. In other words: hollow eloquence and unfounded assertions. This was of no value to an already practised dialectician. 'When he lit his fire, he filled his house with smoke, but did not drive out darkness with light. His tree, completely covered in leaves as it was, looked beautiful when one viewed it from a distance, but as one drew nearer and saw it more closely it was found to be barren/11 From a historical viewpoint this judgment is undoubtedly unjust, but it is of course impossible to expect Abelard to adopt such an attitude. He looked at the matter on the basis of his own opinions on the pursuit of theological study, and by this standard the convincing effect of Anselm's lectures was bound to have been small. We are prepared to believe Abelard therefore when he continues by saying that he did not lie 'inactive in the shadow of this tree' for many days. In other words he did not very often attend the lectures. Quite naturally his absence was taken as an expression of contempt for the master and therefore resented by the latter's disciples, who stirred up their teacher against him. It eventually came to a showdown between these disciples and Abelard, and this had considerable consequences. They succeeded in so far provoking him that he asserted that he could not conceive what need intelligent people had of aids to an understanding of the Bible, other than Holy Writ itself and the interpretations of the Fathers. This statement was of course strongly provocative for those students who had for years sat beneath Anselm's lectern. They therefore mockingly asked him whether he considered himself to be capable of interpreting the scriptures. To this he readily answered in the affirmative and invited them to a lecture on the following day. As a subject, he chose a difficult text from the Prophet Ezekiel. Some of them had misgivings and advised him to wait a few days, since he was quite unpractised. This Abelard rejected with yet another provocative reply. 'I answered him indignantly that it was not my habit to make progress through diligence but through genius; and I added that I would either withdraw completely or they must attend my lecture without procrastination, as I had directed/12 Abelard then recounts that only a few arrived, as most of them considered it ridiculous that he - inexperienced as

44 /Peter Abelard he still was in theology - ventured to lecture so soon. Those present however found so much pleasure in the lecture that they invited him to continue along the same lines, and students now commenced to flood in. This episode is certainly enlightening in many aspects. We can to some extent understand how provoking Abelard must have been to his contemporaries. His arrogant behaviour alone doubtless made him many enemies. He certainly cannot have been a pleasant opponent. But the episode also gives us a good insight into his views on scholarship. First, his rejection of the 'seniority viewpoint' goes hand in hand with a firm conviction that nobody makes headway without an accurate knowledge of dialectic. Secondly, it is associated with an equally firm conviction that such knowledge cannot be acquired by all the effort imaginable, but is entirely dependent upon inborn ability. This does not mean that Abelard intermixes dialectic and theology; he is quite aware that the two disciplines have different objects. Dialectic, however, is a tool used to work upon a given text, whatever its nature may be. Later, as we shall see, there was an opportunity for Abelard to elaborate in more detail his point of view on the relationship between dialectic and theology, but the episode here referred to had already given him a clear conception of this. The students' enthusiasm over his lectures on Ezekiel was not shared by Anselm and his closest disciples, among whom were two men, Alberic of Rheims and Lotulf of Novara, who later had an opportunity to revenge themselves upon Abelard. He believed it was these two men who incited the old master to take action against his young rival. Anselm now forbade Abelard to teach in Laon, on the grounds that he was responsible for all teaching in the town and did not care to take the blame if young Abelard should be guilty of error. Although the organization of studies at this period contains many uncertain points, the intervention of both William and Anselm against Abelard seems to prove that the master had a certain jurisdiction, with responsibility to the local bishop. It was therefore Anselm's right to forbid Abelard to conduct lectures. Later the conditions were such that the leader of studies, magister scholarum, formally distributed the right to teach, licentia doccndi. This was a step

The Young Dialectician/45 towards the conditions in the universities of later periods. But although at the beginning of the century there was as yet no question of fixed legal rules, the master was apparently able to exercise a certain authority.13 There was nothing left for Abelard to do but to leave the town. He went to Paris where he was soon appointed magister scholarum at Notre Dame. At last he had obtained the position he had for so long desired. He himself says of this: 'A few days later I returned to Paris, and for some years I was in undisturbed possession of the school that had already long ago been intended for me and offered to me, and from which I was at first turned away/14 To become magister scholamm at Notre Dame meant that Abelard was now adopted into the Chapter as a canon. The important point about this is that he was allotted a prebend from Notre Dame. As master of the school he was consequently rewarded by a share in the property of the cathedral. But this did not involve his ordination. The demarcation between laymen and clergy was of an altogether different kind from that normally imagined on the basis of present-day circumstances. There was no question of Abelard's position becoming basically different as a result of his appointment as master. He had in fact been a 'clerk', clericus, from the first day of his studies. It is characteristic that clerici and scholarcs are synonymns; both words refer to students. Studying meant that one was automatically included in the clerical system irrespective of whether one had taken holy orders or not. It is worth noting that this was so, irrespective of the science one studied. The schools were and remained Church institutions and therefore subject to the local Church authority. As a consequence of this, masters and students all wore clerical habits and were tonsured.15 At the time of William of Champeaux, Paris was famous for its dialectical teaching. It is clear that this fame did not diminish when his victor took over control. But to this subject Abelard now added theology, setting himself immediately to the task of continuing and completing the lectures on Ezekiel he had started. Anselm of Laon suffered great injury from the clash with Abelard, and he died soon afterwards. Only one person could take over his position within theology - the master of the

46/Peter Abelard Paris school. Paris therefore became the place where people gathered from the whole civilized world to study philosophy and theology. During these years, Paris established its leading position to such a degree that the city's central standing was indisputable for centuries to come. The flow of students burst all bounds to begin with, but this prepared the ground for the organization of academic life to such an extent that it was natural for the first fully developed university north of the Alps to be situated in Paris. There is no doubt whatever that more credit for this must be given to Abelard than to any other individual. From this period and later there is abundant proof of his fame and of the unprecedented fascination he evoked among his listeners. This evidence is so unanimous that one must accept that his teaching, in elegance and fertility, surpassed anything previously encountered. But Abelard was not destined to enjoy his reputation in peace. The struggle to reach the position for which he rightly considered himself qualified was finished, and so was the incentive that had brought him to his goal. About this, he himself says: 'But luck always makes fools conceited; worldly securityslackens the power of the intellect and easily destroys it through the temptations of the flesh: I already considered myself the only philosopher left in the world, and no longer feared to be troubled by anyone. I then began to slacken the reins of lust, whereas I had previously lived outwardly continent/16 Arrogance and satiety transported him; because of the lack of talented opposition he began to become bored with his success and sought new battlefields. His liaison with Heloise cured him of boredom but also deprived him of what had been its cause: the lucrative and respected position of tnagister scholarum at Notre Dame.

CHAPTER 3

Heloise

When Abelard published his autobiography, which includes an account of his love affair with Heloise, it came into her hands. This led to a correspondence between them, part of which is preserved. Heloise comments in this correspondence on Abelard's narrative, and there developed a discussion exceedingly valuable in reaching an understanding of their relationship. On the basis of this material it is fairly easy to follow the main points in the course of events, but this is not to say that everything becomes as clear as day. In a matter such as this, there can of course be no real understanding unless the motivation behind the various incidents is known, and this is considerably more difficult. When Abelard wrote his account he had been a monk for many years, and it must be assumed that his view of the events had become coloured by his later circumstances, although there can be no doubt of his desire to be truthful. The correspondence also took place at a period when Abelard and Heloise had not seen each other for many years. Other than this we have no real sources. The small amount of information we can obtain from elsewhere adds nothing, beyond confirming a few details. We have therefore only the two persons* memories and their discussion of what occurred twelve or thirteen years previously. The task of reaching an understanding by this means must necessarily take in a good deal of uncertainty. But in addition to this, these memories are strongly imbued with concepts on the subject of love that

48/Peter Abdard can produce a very strange effect when looked at from a modern viewpoint. Finally it may be relevant to point to the complicating factor: that we are concerned with two people of unusual calibre. Setting aside the necessary technical proficiency, all attempts to understand history are of course conditioned by the worldly experience and imagination of the person seeking to understand. We cannot comprehend more of history than our intelligence and perception allow, and similarly we can do so only within our own environment. But this trivial fact fills one with misgiving when faced with an exceptional character, for who has the intelligence and perception to understand him? But we must dare to make the attempt because Abelard's relationship with Heloise was so significant in his life that it is impossible to evade it. It is hoped that we shall succeed at least in suggesting what was involved. In the course of this, it may perhaps become clear that this love story throws light upon some important features of the intellectual life of the period. According to Abelard, it all began as a simple story of seduction. Heloise does not contradict him on this point, but it is nevertheless difficult completely to accept Abelard's account. We read in the last chapter his comment: that success and prosperity had made him arrogant and had aroused his desire for new conquests. He found a suitable subject in the young Heloise, Canon Fulbert's niece. She was not only pretty to look at, but she also possessed sufficient breeding and scholarship to suggest that she would value the learned and renowned master as he deserved! It only remained to find a way to establish contact with her, as Abelard had not one moment's doubt that she - or anyone else to whom he might show favour - would yield to his wishes immediately. Described in this way, he appears to have looked upon the whole matter with cynical calculation. In the first place there was 'lust', and thereafter the problem was to find a suitable subject; Heloise seemed to meet the requirement, as she combined female grace with intelligence and great knowledge. It is, of course, impossible to question the accuracy of this account of the circumstances, but unconsciously Abelard himself denies it a few lines later: 'Completely alight with love for this young maiden, I therefore sought an opporn tunity to win her confidence It therefore appears that,

Heloise/49 from the beginning, he was not quite so calculating; or rather, his calculation did not start out from a conscious general desire which then found an objective in Heloi'se. Calculation stepped in when Heloi'se had aroused his desire, and all that remained was to find a way to win her. But with this modification it is certainly correct that Abelard made his entrance as a seducer. His calculations were realized in all aspects. Under the pretext that his studies made it difficult for him to do his own housekeeping, he suggested to Helo'ise's uncle that he be allowed to take his meals in his house in return for suitable payment. The uncle, who according to Abelard was completely dominated by two passions, avarice and a burning love for his niece, saw in this an opportunity to take advantage of Abelard's learning. He therefore not only agreed to the proposal but in fact asked Abelard to move into his house on condition that he attended to Helo'ise's education in his spare time. She was entrusted completely to his care, with a right to punish her if she were negligent in her studies. Abelard believes that this credulity, which in his opinion was as startling as if Fulbert had left a newborn lamb in the care of a hungry wolf, had two grounds love for the girl and Abelard's own reputation until then of continence. He did not delay in making use of the opportunity, and everythin gO point s to the fact that Heloi'se Ogave herself to J JT him without hesitation. 'Under the pretence of lessons we abandoned ourselves to our love undisturbed, and that solitude, far from the eyes of others, coveted by passion was made easy for us because of the studies. Consequently, when we had opened our books, more words of love appeared than of reading; kisses were more numerous than sentences. More often hands found their way to her bosom than to the books; more frequently did love cause our eyes to meet than did study direct them towards the writing in the book. To arouse less suspicion, I beat her now and then, not in hot temper but in love, not in anger but in tenderness, and this beating surpassed all balms in sweetness. In short, we left no phase of love untried in our passion, and if love-making could find the unusual, we tried this also. And the less experience we had in these joys, the greater was our burning ardour in abandoning ourselves to them, and the less did we feel fatigue.'2 It is evident that there were lively goings-on when the

5o/Peter Abelard respected philosopher and theologian, with nature and perhaps Ovid (Gilson's expression) as his teacher, experimented with his pretty and talented private pnpil! But during all this something happened that Abelard could not have foreseen. Heloise became much more to him than a diversion. When the planned goal had been reached Abelard lost control of events. From now on he thought only of her and was occupied only with his love. Within a very short time he let go by default everything he had fought for and achieved by so much effort. He leaves us in no doubt in the correspondence of the extent to which he was ruled by his desire: 'I was bound to you with such a burning desire that I preferred these - pleasures - to both God and myself/8 He reminds Heloise with horror that, in his passion, he was unable, even in awe of God, to restrain himself even during the festivals of the Church. Heloise on the other hand had misgivings, but gave in to his threats and lashings as he says.4 To understand correctly the importance of this, we must remember that we are concerned with a man for whom there was no shadow of doubt that Almighty God saw and condemned his actions. In short, he was staking his eternal salvation. He knew this, but in spite of it was unable to act differently. We may question the quality and nature of his love of her, as indeed both he and Heloise do in their correspondence, but not its intensity. He preferred Heloise not only to God but to himself. But did he perhaps mean that he preferred - in his own words - ' these pleasures? The violent activity under the pretence of hometeaching made it impossible for him to do justice to himself when he was lecturing. As he himself quite rightly says, it takes great effort to stay awake at night to cultivate love and then to attend to studies during the day. It was impossible for him to drum up any special interest for philosophy and theology. With the preoccupation of a sleepwalker, he spoke from memory. The disciples of course could not help noticing his lack of inspiration, and it was therefore not long before they knew the reason. Abelard, who until then had lived for scholarship and the unique position it had given him in the world of learning, now watched with indifference as all he had won withered away. He rightly says that he preferred his love to himself, for it was his

former image of himself that he relinquished. And yet in this he showed himself to be precisely the personality he in fact was. What more could one wish for by way of individuality? It is well known that Burckhardt considered this very individualism to be characteristic of the Renaissance when contrasted with the Middle Ages. 'The discovery of man' must have meant that the individual saw himself as the point of orientation in existence, so to say, whereas in the Middle Ages man looked upon himself collectively in relation to God. Abelard is an awkward dissonance in the harmony of this conception. Which demands more 'individuality'; to idolize oneself in a godless universe or to go one's way to the end in the full knowledge that one is damned by God? Although in his public activities Abelard was now nothing more than 'a reciter of old ideas', love gave him an inspiration that brought him new fame in which Heloi'se shared: he became a poet. Unfortunately we know nothing more of these love songs than what Heloi'se and Abelard have to say of them. The poems themselves have disappeared. In his autobiography Abelard refers to them in passing, but because of their wide dissemination he considers it unnecessary, even at that time, to refer to them in more detail. 'Most of these poems, as you well know, are still widely known and are sung in many districts, particularly by people who take pleasure in life in a similar way/5 Some of Heloise's remarks are rather more informative. It appears that Abelard not only wrote the poems but also set them to music. A remark - that even the unlettered could not avoid remembering Abelard because of the sweet sound of his music - suggests that they were written in Latin.6 Heloi'se was of course the subject of the songs. 'All streets, every house, echoed with my name,'7 she writes. Sitting in her cloister cell she recalls their impact with obvious delight. 'This in particular was why women sighed for your love. And because the greater part of these poems praised our love they made me known within a short time in many districts, and inflamed many women with envy towards me.'8 We may assume that Heloise exaggerates a little, but the many proofs of the attraction Abelard's personality exercised upon his contemporaries make it credible that this fascination, mixed with some virtuous indignation, did in fact make him a favourite

5^/Peter Abelard with the women and Heloi'se the object of their envy. It must not be forgotten that this kind of poetry was something of an innovation in these regions. We have no other evidence of love poems from northern France as early as this, which makes it doubly regrettable that this section of Abelard's poetry has been lost. It is understandable that the famous philosopher's love not only aroused reciprocal emotions in the young girl but also caused her to feel favoured before all others. She indeed possessed, as Abelard had correctly foreseen, the qualities necessary to appreciate his greatness. Even before she came to know Abelard she was admired throughout the country for her scholarship.9 But this was nothing compared with the fame that now became hers. Within a short time, of course, everyone in Paris and many outside the city knew what was happening in Fulbert's house; only the master of the house was still in ignorance. Abelard recounts that kindly people informed him, but that he was unwilling to believe it. At last the truth dawned upon him for, as Abelard says, 'What all can grasp in the hand cannot easily remain hidden from one individual/10 We do not know how long it was before Fulbert found out - only that it happened 'after the passage of several months'. Nor are we informed how the discovery came about. The scandal naturally resulted in Abelard's having to move out. Despair and shame filled the lovers, while Fulbert's rage knew no bounds. It was now to be proved in earnest that this was no casual or trivial affair. One result of the exposure was that the lovers now realized the depth of their love. Abelard writes of this: 'When the agony of shame was past, we became less sensitive to feelings of shame. Indeed, as the agony of shame became less, the more naturally did the exercise of our love come to us/11 The result of the discovery was therefore that they now openly confirmed what everyone knew. They wrote to one another during the separation, and eventually Helo'ise told him that she was pregnant. She asked Abelard to decide what they should do in this situation. It is characteristic of Heloi'se that in spite of the difficult circumstances the expected child made her 'radiantly happy'. Abelard does not say what his emotions were at this news; however, he immediately decided upon the action to take.

Heloise/5 3 By arrangement with Heloise he abducted her from her uncle's house while the latter was away and took her disguised as a nun to his sister in Brittany. Here she remained until the confinement was over. She had a boy, to whom she gave the name, Astrolabius. We may readily believe that Fulbert was beside himself with indignation. His house had been disgraced by the events, and if we are to believe Abelard - and there is no reason not to do so - he was thereafter constantly occupied with thoughts of how he could take his revenge. But as Heloise was living with Abelard's family it was difficult for him to act. Abelard of course felt ill at ease with such a threat hanging over his head, for this was what Fulbert's hatred and vindictiveness amounted to, and he now tried to ease the situation. He went to see Fulbert, admitted that he had betrayed him in the most shameful manner and offered to compensate him. This compensation was to consist in his marrying Heloise, but secretly so that his reputation should not suffer! He recounts that Fulbert agreed to this, and he now believed that everything was set to rights.

But this was by no means the case. In the first place, Heloise was definitely against the plan, although she gave in to Abelard's dogged persistence in his wish to marry her. Secondly, a secret marriage was by no means sufficient compensation for Fulbert, whose disgrace was public. Abelard had his way; he brought Heloise back to Paris and there they were married early one morning in the presence of Fulbert and a few friends. Heloi'se then returned to her uncle's house as if nothing had happened and Abelard resumed his teaching. But the situation was quite intolerable. Fulbert could not forget what had happened to him and immediately broadcast far and wide that his niece was now married to Abelard. He now however had to suffer the indignity that Heloise, to protect Abelard, swore this was not true. Fulbert's impotence against Abelard now caused him to give vent to his anger on Heloi'se. It became obvious that she could not remain in her uncle's house, and Abelard abducted her a second time. He did not, as might be expected, take her back to his sister in Brittany, where they had left their son, but to the convent of Argenteuil near Paris where Heloise had been educated.

54/Peter Abelard It was this action that decided their fate. Helo'ise's family now assumed - it is impossible to say whether rightly or not - that Abelard intended to rid himself of her by causing her to take the veil. There is confirmation of this in the fact that Heloise, following Abelard's wishes, put on the habit - which was in no way a condition for residing at the convent. Fulbert and his relations then prepared the cruel plan they soon succeeded in carrying out. They bribed Abelard's servant to open the door of his house during the night, took the sleeping man by surprise and castrated him. Overcome by shame, Abelard sought refuge in the monastery of St Denis, first having commanded Heloise to take the veil. Heloise later asserted that the marriage was the cause of their ill-fortune, and that she had foreseen this before it took place. Abelard writes that Heloise, when she realized that she could not make him change his mind, concluded the dialogue with the following words: 'Now only one thing remains; that we shall be destroyed, and that there will follow no less pain than there was love before/ He adds: 'Nor were these words bereft of prophesy, as all the world has had cause to admit/12 The connection certainly seems to be quite clear: marriage — Fulbert's publication of it - Heloi'se's denial - Fulbert's rage towards her - the flight to Argenteuil - the crime against Abelard - the necessity of a separation. What is far more important than establishing this, however, is that the marriage itself and the attitude of the two people towards it throws a clear light upon their relationship. To begin at the least significant point, it is quite apparent that they were not in agreement as to the effect of the marriage upon Fulbert; Abelard assumed that it would have the intended reconciliatory effect upon him, but Heloise who knew him better did not believe for one moment that he could forget his disgrace. But the difference went far deeper, as it was based more upon the impulse of the heart than upon the premeditation of the intellect. Abelard reveals what was probably his true reason for desiring a marriage in his second letter to Heloise, where he writes: 'God had bound us to one another by the indissoluble pact of the marriage sacrament, while I wished to keep for myself for ever what I loved beyond all reason/18 On grounds that we shall discuss in a moment, Abelard was anxious to have the

Heloise/55 public believe him to be unmarried. If nevertheless he desired a marriage, it was so to say out of jealousy towards Heloi'se's future; by marrying her he bound her in such a manner that neither she nor her family would ever be able to push him aside, for example by another marriage. But by enforcing a marriage and at the same time demanding that it remain a secret he denied her the right to whatever she might have enjoyed by marriage to a young man - a respected and honourable position in society. We may be tempted to dismiss his attitude as highly selfish, but if we are in any way to understand him we must bear in mind that the consequences were such that there must have been very substantial reasons for desiring secrecy. Were there such reasons? When we put this question it comes to light that the only plausible answer, which Etienne GUson has painstakingly explored in his book on Heloise and Abelard, leads us directly into processes of thought closely bound up with the ' twelfth-century Renaissance'. Apart from this, the question also has a direct connection with Heloise's reluctance to enter into matrimony. Abelard recounts that she was against the plan for two reasons: the danger he thereby exposed himself to and the disgrace. The danger she considered to be her uncle's vindictiveness, which she knew would not abate. But what had she in mind when she said it would be a disgrace for Abelard? He had not at that time become ordained, and in spite of his position as a canon there was no reason whatever why he should not marry. It is of course true that in so doing he excluded himself from later becoming a priest, and perhaps - like so many masters before him - reaching very high office within the Church. This he no doubt realized, and this therefore is the sacrifice he was prepared to make for his passion. It is difficult to be sure whether he could have remained a canon, and although there appears to have been no canonical obstacle, a married magister scholarum at Notre Dame would have been quite exceptional. But whatever were the facts of this matter, it could in any case have had nothing to do with keeping secret the marriage. The subsequent events interrupted his career to such a degree that we cannot be certain on these matters. It can only be said that if marriage meant renouncing one or another of his dignities, then so did a secret marriage. Any

56/Peter Abelard suggestion that the 'disgrace* was associated with something directly unlawful is out of the question. But in his extensive account of Heloise's to some extent very learned objections he leads us in quite another direction. Briefly, this is as follows: entry into marriage is at variance with the classical philosophical ideal to which Heloise and Abelard both deferred in their common admiration of Abelard! He himself formulates this very clearly in the introduction to his account of the abduction, '... it is certainly true that the philosophers quite apart from the holy men, that is to say those who give heed to the admonitions of Holy Writ - could attribute most of the credit for the respect they enjoyed to their perfect continence* ** It is the very argument put forward by Heloise. She first draws his attention to Paul, but if Abelard is unwilling to accept the exhortations of the Apostle or of the holy men, she asks him to take notice of what the philosophers have written on this subject. St Jerome supplies her with several excellent examples to illustrate the inconsistency between marriage and philosophical studies. She herself describes with great eloquence the incompatible contrast between philosophical study and domestic chores and worries: 'Finally, is it possible for he who is immersed in religious or philosophical reflections to tolerate the crying of children, the crooning of nurses when they quieten them and the noisy bustle of men and women servants? Moreover, can anyone tolerate the constant uncleanliness of small children?'15 Heloise anticipates the objection - that the rich can - with the reply that philosophers are not in this position. She concludes with a quotation from Seneca: 'There is little difference between giving up philosophy and pursuing it in the face of interruptions. For if the pursuit of it is interrupted, it is finished/16 To give Abelard proper warning, she adds that if pagans could live in this way, how much more should he, a cleric and a canon, fight against being devoured by 'shameful lust'. But she is prepared to abandon the special appeal to him as a cleric. If he has no concern for what he owes to God, he should at least defend his dignity as a philosopher. Heloise uses every lever she can find. Arguments of Christian asceticism and pagan philosophy rub shoulders, but it is first and foremost a matter that concerns Abelard the philosopher. She

Helotse/57 thinks also of his possible future in the Church: '... imagine the loss to the Church that will follow such a marriage/17 Nevertheless, it is clear that she wishes to uphold a way of life independent in principle of Christianity and the Church; Abelard's 'disgrace' lies in his renouncing this. It is likewise clear that Abelard shared this ideal in every respect. The disagreement between them is not ideological but personal, because it is concerned with the different quality of their love. The reasons that Helo'ise puts forward against their marriage are just the same as those which make him wish it to be kept secret! From this we can draw some conclusions, on the one hand concerning their relationship and on the other concerning their differing demands upon Abelard personally. Perhaps we can express the difference between their attitudes by remembering that Abelard is concerned with the pursuit of two aims, which strictly speaking are incompatible; both concern himself, Heloise coming into the picture only as the object of his aspirations. Heloise on the other hand has only one goal. The fulfilment of her love subsists only in Abelard's glory; for this reason she herself withdraws. Abelard wishes to live up to the philosophical ideal but his jealous attitude towards other eventualities makes him also wish to secure Heloise for himself. The result is therefore the unhappy idea of a secret marriage. Helo'ise is concerned for Abelard's honour because in this only is her own love consummated. This can be attained only if he is truly and not merely apparently living in accordance with the philosophical ideal. In betraying the ideal - and thereby himself - by being sensually tied to Helo'ise he betrays their love and consequently betrays her, for the purpose of her life is him and him alone. Seen in this light, the two parties' demands upon Abelard are therefore determined by their very relationship. To be able to satisfy the needs of his selfish 'possessive' love for Heloise, Abelard pushes aside his demands upon himself. But to retain the purity of her love, Heloise must assert her demands upon Abelard even to her own cost. Self-assertion, although of a very subtle nature, may also be detected here; Heloise can only be true to herself by sacrificing herself to Abelard's glory as a philosopher. When he demands that she should marry him she does so in spite of all her objections, and in so doing she as it

58/Peter Abelard were withdraws herself on to a new plane for his sake. She now 'sacrifices her sacrifice' because it is impossible for her to go against him. This conception of love, to which Heloise gives expression and moreover on which she is prepared to act, she undoubtedly shared with Abelard. But he was unable to live up to it. * Renaissance' also enters into the picture here. Like many other people in the twelfth century, the couple were inspired by Cicero's treatise 'On friendship' (De amicitia) which describes 'disinterested love' as the only worthy expression of true friendship. It is apparent from Heloise's letter that there is no trace whatever of a religious motive in her will to sacrifice her life's happiness for the sake of Abelard's' honour'. During their cohabitation, the atmosphere of the relationship between the two 'philosophers' had been conditioned by Cicero's ideas. The circumstance that the relationship was also erotic had altered nothing ideologically.18 They agree later that Heloise, because of Abelard's sensuality, sought his pleasure, not her own. That she later found it difficult to forget the pleasure she had herself enjoyed is quite another matter! When Heloise sought to prevent the marriage by evoking for Abelard the philosophic ideal to which he himself deferred, she did so with no certainty that he would allow himself to be persuaded in this way. But she had other possibilities - an appeal to that very sensuality which threatened to disgrace him. With courage and maturity surprising in so young a girl she declares that she would far rather be his mistress than his wife. She lures him by stressing that periodical separations would make the pleasures of their association all the sweeter, the more rare they were. But the alternatives of mistress or wife hold more for Heloise than a last desperate appeal to Abelard. Two points of view come to light here. First, it would be more decorous for him if she continued as his mistress. By this she means that although the liaison is already a betrayal of the philosophic ideal, it is not abandoned for ever as it would be by a marriage. This concession she is therefore prepared to make to him: that for a time he can assuage her demands upon him by continuing the liaison with her. We can easily appreciate that Heloise, in spite of her high ideals and strong desire to live in accordance with them, reserved

Helotse/59 to herself this possibility of preserving her happiness, if this could be achieved without taking final leave of these ideals. But from this it becomes clear that the philosophical argument against marriage would lead to an absolute termination of the relationship. This of course was perfectly clear to Heloi'se, and there is no reason to doubt that she was ready to face it There is however another aspect of Heloise's preference for her status of mistress. A glimpse of this may be seen in Abelard's account of her reasoning: 'and thus it became tenderness alone that preserved her for me, and not marriage ties holding me fast by force'.19 She herself brings this out even more clearly in her commentary on the autobiography. In a passage where she stresses the unselfish nature of her love she declares that it had always seemed 'sweeter* to her to be called mistress or paramour, even though the title of wife is considered to be something more sacred and more binding. She bases this on the argument that the more she humiliated herself the greater tenderness might she have expected from him, while at the same time, as pointed out above, she thereby 'did less to impair his fame'.20 But apart from the question of Abelard's honour as a philosopher, Heloise prefers the 'free' love relationship to marriage. The true reason for this is more apparent from the context of her letter than from any individual statement. Immediately after this quotation, Heloise thanks Abelard for not having omitted to mention any of the reasons by which she sought to make him give up the idea of marriage. But she adds that he has suppressed most of the reasons that made her prefer 'love to marriage, freedom to chains'. It might be expected that she would herself follow this by putting forward these reasons, and this she in fact does to some extent. She begins with an apparently somewhat banal observation: If Augustus, the lord of the whole world, wished to marry her and hand over to her power over all the earth for all eternity, she would still consider it a greater honour to be called Abelard's whore than Augustus' Empress. It is tempting to shrug one's shoulders at this with the comment that any little girl in love would probably be prepared to make these words her own. But if one has spent some time in Heloise's company one becomes more cautious. In any case, the last thing one could call her is banal. It must be allowed that she

6o/Peter Abelard is not very convincing when, as a reason for her example, she then says that it is neither riches nor power that determine a man's worth, and that the woman who prefers a rich man to a poor man sells herself, because it is his fortune and not the man himself she desires. To find a meaning in this beyond the trivial, one must read on. Heloi'se now proceeds to quote a passage she has found in Cicero.21 The philosophically learned Aspasia is said to have used this argument upon Xenophon and his wife in order to restore the good relationship between them, and she is said to have concluded with the following words: 'From the moment that you come to the realization that there is no better man nor more excellent woman on earth, there can be no obstacle to your recognition and your enjoyment of that happiness which is usually allotted to you - for the one is the husband of the best possible wife and the other the wife of the best possible husband/ Heloise approves of these words: 'Sacred is this error, blissful is this delusion between man and wife, where perfect love preserves the marriage pact inviolate, not so much through bodily faithfulness as through mental chastity/ But for Heloise the conclusive point is that the happiness delusion can give to other wonren had been given to her by truth! She had no need, she says, to believe about Abelard what she and all the world knew: 'consequently my love for you became the more true, the further it was removed from delusion'.22 This is later substantiated in more detail by a vivid description of Abelard's fame, favour with women, etc., which it is not necessary to go into here. What has here been recounted appears to present no direct reason for preferring freedom to 'chains'. The example of Augustus says no more than that Heloise prefers a free relationship with Abelard to a marriage for the sake of power and riches. In the eyes of Heloise marriages of this nature are equivalent to prostitution, and one can scarcely disagree with her in this. She later puts forward the concept that a true marriage presupposes 'the blissful delusion', and she continues by stressing the truth of her own love. She needed no delusion, for nobody could be compared with Abelard, etc. It must be remembered that Heloi'se is not writing to a stranger who is unaware of her manner of thought, and must therefore have everything

Hdtiise/6i explained in detail to understand her meaning. She is writing to the man with whom she is intimately associated also on the intellectual plane. If we now connect up some of the points set out in the text, a deep meaning comes to light in these apparently somewhat trite and scattered reflections. First: Helo'ise uses marriage for the sake of power or riches as an example, but it is obvious that her conception of love as 'disinterested* presupposes that all marriages in which one of the parties wishes to obtain 'something', that is to say where something other than the actual marriage partner is of importance, must be considered as no more than prostitution. This is apparent from the lines immediately preceding the paragraph referred to: 'Never have I, as God is my witness, sought anything in you other than yourself; it was you and you alone, not yours, that I desired. It was not the marriage pact nor anything one might call a dowry I expected; and finally it was not my own pleasure or will but yours I strove to satisfy, as you well know/23 As we can see, here also marriage itself is used as an example. It appears on a parallel with' dowry' - that is, riches. Secondly: In contrast to a marriage that may be considered as no more than prostitution, there is mental chastity - the realization that the beloved is 'the best' - which makes it possible for perfect love to keep the marriage pact inviolate. This mental chastity - which is the only criterion - Heloi'se possessed because the truth of her love was the most complete imaginable, since she needed no holy delusion to help her regard Abelard as the best. Consequently marriage could add nothing significant. This train of thought is strongly sustained by their common ethical principle, which may perhaps be referred to as 'the ethic of the pure intention*. It is expressed briefly and clearly by Heloi'se in this way: 'For it is not the accomplishment of the matter but the intention of the one accomplishing it that constitutes the offence; it is not what is done, but the disposition in which it is done that is judged by righteousness/24 Consequently Heloi'se was bound to prefer freedom to coercion, as only in freedom was there certainty that mental chastity and pure intention alone governed the relationship. In marriage there was danger that coercion, or 'prostituting* desire for something other than the other person himself, would violate

62 /Peter Abelard the perfection of love. Against this background, Abelard's adherence to his wish for marriage must have been offensive not only in the sense that he thereby brought dishonour and consequent shame upon her, who wished for nothing but him, but it was offensive also in that he affronted her by showing mistrust of her. How could she otherwise interpret his wish? It is true that in the letters she does not reproach him with this, but it follows from her way of thought that she must have taken it as a deep offence against 'mental chastity'. As we have seen, such an allegation would certainly have been fully justified. Not for nothing was Heloise Abelard's disciple. The concepts determining her view on marriage in general and on her own in particular had come originally from him. But what he, under the pressure of his grudging sentiments, was unable to implement in practice, she made real. In doing so she showed that she was not merely an admiring echo of her beloved but that even in her early youth she possessed an independence that made these concepts her own property. The famous logician on the other hand was unable in practice to defend the ideals of Antiquity that he could postulate in such brilliant formulae. From his earliest youth he had become far too accustomed to having everything revolve around himself, Abelard. The conflict he found himself in was probably to a certain extent the conflict between his vocation and love; not between love of philosophy and of Heloise, but between love of the image of himself as the greatest philosopher of the period and love of himself as the possessor of Heloise. The result was the half-measure expressed in the idea of the secret marriage. But if we bear in mind that this compromise was not a bargain struck between two inclinations incomplete in themselves but a struggle between two passions, we become more wary of making a quick judgment upon him. It is characteristic of Abelard the intellectual that everything he undertook throughout his life was impassioned, but it would be wrong to isolate his self-centredness and to argue that this was his only passion. To be sure, it always played a part, but in everything Abelard did it appears that he could do no other than go on to the end, no matter what consequences it had for him. While the liaison with Heloise was officially secret she was so much the central figure of his life that apparently

Heloi'se/63 without hesitation he discarded everything he had won in the world of learning. Upon the disclosure of the liaison, he awoke from his intoxication and realized that it was necessary to make up his mind. To give up philosophy would have meant to him his destruction as a person. But neither could he give up Helo'ise, the one and only creature or object that had ever made him stray from the course he had planned in his youth and had followed with such success. Perhaps it was his human instincts themselves that made it impossible for him to come to any real decision at the moment of truth, and made him, almost against his nature, try to compromise. It cannot be denied or concealed that Helo'ise was his superior, but it is perhaps too easy a solution to interpret his behaviour as moral turpitude. Nor should we overlook in this connection the sacrifice involved for an ambitious man to give up any idea of a career in the Church, quite apart from what it must have meant to him to be forced into the position of having Helo'ise teach him that he had betrayed the ideals he had believed in, and still believed in. After the marriage, it was still Helo'ise who was forced to bear the burden. Consistent as always, she did what Abelard expected of her after she had given in to his wishes. It is difficult to imagine what it must have cost her to lie when her family began to spread the news of their marriage. But the reputation of her Abelard was at stake and, in spite of personal anguish, there can have been no doubt in her mind of what she was to do. The couple did not of course see much of each other at this period, although Abelard writes that they met now and then in deep secret. We do not know in what manner Fulbert, in his anger at Heloise's denial of the marriage, harassed her; but at all events it became unbearable for her. Abelard then took her to the convent at Argenteuil, and thereby gave rise to the suspicion that caused her family to take such a cruel revenge upon him. We are unaware of his intentions in placing Heloise in the convent. Neither of them say anything on this subject that might form a clue. We must not however disregard the simple possibility that he had no long-term plan at all. Argenteuil was in the neighbourhood of Paris, which may be sufficient explanation for his preferring this to the distant home of his sister.

64/Peter Abelard Abelard could visit her there without interrupting his teaching, and this he certainly did. In one of the letters he reminds Heloise that once during a visit his uncontrollable passion caused them shamelessly to desecrate the refectory, which was consecrated to the Holy Virgin, as there was no other place for them to go.25 But it was probably not very long before punishment caught up with him. The crime became known immediately all over the city, and Abelard asserts that the pity shown him made him suffer more than did the mutilation. In his momentary despair and disgrace he saw his entire fame destroyed, and he could not contemplate ever showing himself again among people. He thought with horror of the harsh words of Old Testament law concerning the aversion eunuchs evoke in the eyes of God. Whether, as he writes, he already at that time saw the events as an expression of God's justice, is perhaps questionable.26 But we know from other sources that he strove in hate and indignation to bring down punishment upon the culprits. Two of the accomplices, including his servant, were caught and punished in the most horrible manner.27 But although Abelard may have ante-dated his remorse and, as far as it went, his acceptance of the events as an expression of God's righteous condemnation, he is certainly being accurate when he writes as follows: 'In the miserable state and the crushing despair in which I found myself, it was much more -1 admit - overpowering shame than pious penitence that drove me to seek shelter under the mantle of the monasteries. But before that my bride, at my command, took the veil and entered the convent/28 Abelard saw no other alternative than to hide himself from people. But he first ensured that Heloi'se became a nun in the convent at Argenteuil. He writes that many tried to dissuade her from doing this, but in vain. When Heloi'se had taken the vow Abelard himself entered the fashionable Benedictine monastery of St Denis. Abelard had become a different person. The conflict that had divided him had now been resolved in an unexpected manner. The ties laid upon him by his new existence as a monk were not oppressive; a monastery was not only the sole remaining place for him to live, but it also offered him what he really needed: peace from people. It was quite another matter with Heloise.

Helotse/65 She had not become another person, and she felt no vocation for convent life. She had only one motive - to obey Abelard. He hurt her deeply by letting her be the first to take vows. She saw in this - probably correctly - an expression of distrust, which appears still to have pained her twelve or thirteen years later.29 She was prepared to follow him, but from the expressions she uses later to remind him of her obedience it is clear that this had not been easy for her: ' passion was transformed into such a madness that it deprived itself of the only thing it yearned for, with no hope of recovering it; for, following your command, I myself immediately changed both clothing and mind in order to demonstrate that you alone possessed both my body and my soul/80 In a different place she writes: 'It was your command and not divine love that made me put on the sacred habit/31 Faced with a future without him, with no calling and with no hope, she obediently subjected herself to the conditions he commanded her to live under. But it is apparent from the correspondence that it was only her clothing and her outward behaviour she changed and not in any way her mind, whereas for Abelard entry into the monastery really became a 'conversion' in the mediaeval sense of the word: a new life of penance and humility. This becomes apparent from the way the two persons concerned assess what had occurred. Only at one point are they more or less agreed - in their view of the quality of Abelard's love. They both conclude that it consisted only of sensual desire, and they also agree that it does not deserve the name of love. But at this point agreement ends. When it comes to the criteria for assessing this question, as well as the whole of their relationship and its consequences, they differ widely from one another. For Heloise the yardstick is still the concept of love that had determined her relationship with Abelard throughout the crisis surrounding the marriage. Abelard on the other hand is conditioned by his new way of life as a monk. Although a detailed analysis of the correspondence is beyond the scope of this account, a reference to some of the notable manifestations of this fundamental disagreement appears desirable at this point, and it will also prove useful in explaining Heloise's importance in Abelard's destiny. Heloise makes no attempt to hide that Abelard is now, as

66 /Peter Abelard ever, the person on whom her life depends: 'For you are the only one capable of bringing me sorrow and joy, or of rendering me consolation/32 This is not an exaggerated or impulsive statement, and it should be accepted quite literally. Thus writes the nun, highly respected for her exemplary life. If we now ask why it was not possible for her to obtain consolation in God, as might be expected from one in her position, she leaves us in no doubt as to the answer. At the beginning of her first letter she reproaches Abelard for having neglected her for so long. In this she sees evidence that it had been desire rather than love that tied him to her, for he forgot her as soon as what he desired was at an end. She asks him at least to write to her, and then adds: 'It was indeed no pious fear of God that led me, a very young girl, into the hard yoke of convent life, but only and entirely your command; if in this I merit no gratitude at all from you, then judge for yourself how fruitless is my effort! I cannot expect for this any reward from God, since it is indisputable that I have as yet done nothing for love of Him/38 In another place she says that in all the circumstances of her life she has been more afraid of going against him than of going against God.34 It would not be difficult to point to other quotations of the same nature, but this seems unnecessary. It is already clear that, in truth, it is Abelard who is her god. It is love of him and fear of him that guides all her actions, and at his hand she expects - or at least hopes - to receive reward and consolation. This leads us to the roots of the deep conflict that dominates the life of the thirty-year-old abbess, and which she implores Abelard to help her to solve. She is an advocate of the ethic of pure intention and must therefore condemn her own life. This, to be sure, is outwardly blameless, but it is quite unrelated to true conventual life. This torments her and causes her without hesitation to brand herself a hypocrite. But the simple and readily understood difference between her very earthly love and the divine love towards which a nun should devote all her energy is not a satisfactory illustration of the conflict. To understand the whole range of her suffering we must be dear about two things: first, the background, not only to her taking the veil but also to her wish now to be a nun in the true sense; secondly, we must try to understand what being a nun meant to her. We

Heloise/67

already know the answer to the first point: she became a nun and genuinely wished to be one because Abelard - her god - had so commanded her. For Heloise, this command meant not only that she should put on a nun's habit but that she should be a nun, because for her it is only the intention that counts and never the outward behaviour. But what does it really mean to be a nun? It means living and acting from love of God. But this is the very concept that is not consistent with 'disinterested* love when it is seen, as Heloise sees it, as a total commitment. If we bear in mind that Heloise's unconditional love of Abelard makes him her god, it becomes apparent that the conflict is insoluble. Because the god - Abelard - so commands, Heloise wishes to serve God; indeed she wishes to do nothing else. But this implies an impossibility as, because it is at the command of Abelard that she wishes it, God cannot become God for her. This presupposes that she should give up the concept of total love and, as her assessment of their relationship shows, this she is not willing to do. It is however true that here and there in her letters opinions can be found that are based upon conventual ethics, but it is nonetheless clear that she has in no way changed. There is only one thing she regrets: that she allowea herself to be persuaded to marry Abelard. She can refer to what went before as 'sin' and she can express a wish to do penance for this, but the voice of her heart is quite different. 'How indeed can it be called doing penance for one's sins, however hard one tortures the body, if the mind still retains the will to sin and burns with the same desire as before.'35 Heloise makes no attempt to deceive herself: 'But so sweet to me were the sensual pleasures of the passion we enjoyed together that they cannot arouse my displeasure; indeed they scarcely disappear from my memory.... I should certainly groan about what I have done; but I sigh rather over what I have lost.'86 The thought that the marriage itself was the beginning of all their suffering fills her with bitterness against the God she wishes to serve, as Abelard has commanded her. In particular, she cannot bear to think of the manner by which their separation occurred. In all these misfortunes Abelard is her only consolation, and it appears to her that he has failed. In this she sees evidence that he was formerly bound to her merely by

68/PeterAbelard desire. But now he has settled her manner of life once and for all, and she therefore begs him to help her to bear it. Abelard does not measure his love for Heloise by the standards they both once recognized and which Heloise still considers to be the only valid ones. He can therefore accept neither her assessment of the bygone events nor her interpretation of the misfortune that followed therefrom. Only harsh words of denunciation remain to be said by him concerning their relationship before and during the marriage. He does not spare himself, but at the same time stresses that they were both guilty. He therefore gives no sanction to Heloi'se's reference to the pure intention. For him the whole relationship was sinful, and the tragic interruption of it he sees as proof that it pleased the divine mercy to deliver them and give them - although involuntarily - an opportunity to win salvation in a life of pious submission. He agrees with her that his own love may be evaluated as no more than desire, but the criterion for this is not disinterested love but love of quite a different kind. In his attempt to rid Heloise of this bitterness towards God, which as he says not only separates her from God but also from him, he employs her own views on love: 'What does Christ seek in you, I ask, other than you yourself?' He is a true friend Who desires you yourself, not what is yours. He is a true friend Who, when He was about to die for you, said: " Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." He nourished a true love for you, but I did not. My love, which brought sin to us both, should be called desire, not love. I satisfied my pitiful passion on you, and that was all I loved. I have suffered for you, you say, and perhaps this is true, but it was rather through you, and even that was involuntary; it was not for love of you but by compulsion; it brought you not salvation but pain. He on the other hand has suffered for your salvation; He has suffered voluntarily for you, He, Who through His suffering heals all frailty and removes all suffering/87 For Abelard, the love Heloise has tried to make tangible and has looked for in vain in him is to be found in God alone. When she asks him for help he tries to give her what he has an urge to seek and find love in Christ. He also believes they are still tied to one another. He shows this, for example, in his plea

Heknse/69 to Heloise to arrange for his body to be taken to her convent after his death. But it is a bond of a different nature than before. There is for him no doubt that this bond is far more intense and firm than that which bound them before their 'conversion'. He must therefore rebuke her when she complains about her harsh fate. God in his mercy has saved them from the temptations of the world. But he does not forget that there is a fundamental difference in their circumstances. He is freed once and for all from 'the fires of passion', while she is still plagued by the 'incessant impulses of the flesh'. He sees in this a special divme mercy: 'because he who must always fight can also expect the crown; for only he is crowned "who fights according to law". But I can expect no crown as I have no reason to fight/38 Abelard clearly feels that Heloise is not very heedful of this argument, but he has no choice. She has asked him for help and he must therefore give it to her, not in a way that pleases her but in accordance with what is for him truth. It is easy to dismiss Abelard's attitude as cold and lacking in understanding, and it is not difficult to stress at his expense the virtues of the unhappy woman. On the basis of the correspondence, a fierce and yet very reasoned attack could be mounted against monkish piety and grim asceticism. Easy victories of this kind are not however of much value in trying to understand people from past ages. To understand, we must be prepared to accept the fact that people of long ago were able to live their lives on a basis quite different from our own. Through his conversion, Abelard had regained his intellectual integrity on a completely different plane. He had been uncompromising in his own self-absorption and self-admiration, until the meeting with Heloise destroyed the harmony and flung him into the conflict that was solved for him when, after entering the monastery, he became a monk in earnest. It would be inaccurate to assume that the cause of this transformation is to be found solely in the crime done to him. It is clear that the altered circumstances which flowed from this played an essential part, but Heloise had already disrupted the undisturbed harmony of his self-absorption. It is probably correct to assume that only through her was Abelard able to draw from the misfortune the conclusions he did in fact draw. She had opened his eyes to concepts greater

70/Peter Abelard than Abelard. But, by this, he was led on still further; it was her love that first taught him what love in fact meant. When he tries to come to her help in the correspondence she herself becomes his teacher, as it were. He now sees the knowledge she has imparted to him in a different light. Now he can love her also, but it is a love in Christ; that is to say a love that binds them on their common path towards God, Who has shown them His mercy. The rest of the correspondence, which we shall not follow here, led to Abelard's making all his learning and attention available to Heloise and her nuns. It was now a consolation for her to be in touch with him again, but whether she ever succeeded in overcoming her pain and in finding peace in her convent we do not know. The correspondence only tells us that after about thirteen years in the convent she was still the same as when, against her will, she married her beloved. Their positions were - in spite of all the differences - to some extent reversed. Abelard had been freed of the conflict that had tortured him in the marriage, and she, the uncompromising one, was forced into an insoluble schism by very reason of her unswerving fidelity to the synthesis of the heart's urge and the mind's clarity that had always motivated her. The correspondence is far later in date than the dramatic events that led to the separation, and it tells us something of the later attitudes adopted by the two persons concerned. We have no knowledge as to when Abelard reached the conception of his destiny reflected in the letters, but from the autobiography there is reason to believe it took place as early as during the initial period at St Denis.

CHAPTER 4

Disputes and Disappointments

The Benedictine Abbey of St Denis was a dignified old institution closely connected with the French Court. At the time Abelard entered, it was 'unreformed'; that is to say, it was unaffected by the great reform movement that sought to restore monastic! discipline in conformity with the entire rigour of the Rule of St Benedict. A few years after Abelard had left the Abbey, Abbott Suger reformed it under the guidance of Bernard of Clairvaux. But in 1119 - probably the year Abelard became a monk - it was still fashionable, rather than scrupulous about the Rule, and more notable for courtly behaviour than for the monastic virtues.1 The Abbey was probably well pleased that Abelard chose it as his residence. In spite of the scandal and humiliation he was, after all, one of the leading scholars of his time; a man whom even St Denis might feel flattered to include among its monks. This enthusiasm however was by no means mutual. When Abelard discovered that the monks and even the abbot led a life outrageous in relation to their monastic status he was not the man to conceal what he observed. He himself, to be sure, was still in disgrace, but it had never been his intention to enter a monastery to continue a blameworthy life. It is characteristic of him that now he had become a monk he was determined to accept this completely. His duty of course had been made considerably easier for him by the crime whose victim he had been, but even this is not the complete explanation

7^/Peter Abdard of his zeal. Chastity was no problem for him, but this need not have prevented his enjoying the advantages of the comfort offered by the slack discipline of the order* As a monk, he remained as unyielding and ruthless as he had ever been in his scholarly research. Released from the conflict that had made him falter in the struggle between two passions, he could now once more allow his life to be ruled by the lack of compromise inherent in his nature. Earlier, he had often had occasion to observe how little other people relish having their attention drawn to their intellectual errors. He now had the same experience in the moral field, for his continual protests against the life of the monastery rapidly made him the object of intense hatred. For the monks therefore it was opportune when the 'clerics', that is to say Abelard's students, urged him to re-establish his school within the monastery. This task required a certain seclusion, and consequently the monks were able to be free of him. The abbot, in giving his permission, probably had in mind the glory that Abelard would shed upon the monastery by continuing his teaching. A house belonging to the Abbey and at the disposal of the abbot was now made available to him, and students gathered here in great numbers. Abelard recounts that the place had neither sufficient living accommodation nor enough food. It was intended that the property concerned should house the students as well as provide their food, but the influx taxed it to breaking point. In their pleas for the school's re-establishment, the students had argued that Abelard should now use his talents for the love of God and 'truly become God's philosopher, rather than the world's'. Whereas he had previously earned much money from his teaching, he should now concern himself with the poor. It is understandable that this line of thought appealed deeply to him. In this way he could once more devote all his time and attention to his real calling, and at the same time see his action as a manifestation of his conversion. But it was not so much the content of the teaching as its motive that had changed. Abelard recounts that, to match his new position, he devoted most of his attention to theology, but that he did not entirely cease to interest himself in the worldly sciences. He mentions Origen as a model for this dual activity.

Disputes and Disappointments/73 in which he used philosophy as a bait to draw his students into the study of 'the true philosophy'. Abelard undoubtedly felt a spiritual affinity with this man, who had sought to create a synthesis between Christianity and Greek philosophy. As already said, there was in general a very lively interest in Origen in the twelfth century. It is probable that Abelard, for other very personal reasons, felt himself attracted to this Greek. He had been in fact a eunuch like himself. In one of his letters to Heloise he compares himself with Origen, emphasizing also the difference; Origen had castrated himself, whereas Abelard had been overtaken by God's wrath. It is apparent that these are no fortuitous considerations but point to an intense preoccupation with Origen. Consequently there is reason to believe that the knowledge of a common fate increased Abelard's objective interest in him.2 When describing his immediate reactions following the crime, Abelard mentions the thought of his enemies' triumph. How delighted they would be over his ill fortune! It is probably true that his rivals now thought they had rid themselves of him once and for all. It is therefore not difficult to imagine the disappointment they must have felt when students once more gathered around him. Unable to withstand his competition or to fight against him, they tried to outmanoeuvre him by technicalities. First, they pointed out that it was incompatible with the duty of a monk to study worldly books; that is to say to occupy oneself with philosophy. Secondly, they maintained that Abelard posed as a teacher of theology without having received authority for this from a master. They therefore had an argument in both of the two fields in which Abelard was occupied. He recounts that they put forward these matters to the clerical authorities with the intention of having him excluded from all teaching. As, apparently, they did not succeed in silencing him his position must have been strong, for both arguments carried considerable weight at the time. For example, the former found enthusiastic support among those within the reform movement. Indeed, it will be seen later that some of Bernard of Clairvaux' indignation towards Abelard was because he, a monk, studied the Greek philosophers. The other point has already been discussed. It was of course true that Abelard had never received an

74/Peter Abelard authorization to teach. On the contrary, his only teacher in theology, Anselm of Laon, had forbidden him to conduct theological lectures. However, no regulations appear to have been established at that time. Another opportunity to get at him soon appeared however. It is very probable that at this time some of Abelard's writings on logic already existed, but as yet no theological work. Not later than 1120 however he wrote a treatise on the Trinity for the use of his students. The manner in which he solved the problem was completely novel. There is no reason to doubt that the book created an enormous stir and became the subject of great admiration, but also of much misgiving. Abelard's fundamental philosophical and theological ideas wiU be examined in more detail in the next chapter, but it is necessary briefly to refer to a few points here. The new matter in the book can scarcely be expressed more clearly than in Abelard's own words in his reference to it in the autobiography. * I... set out to develop the actual foundation of our belief by means of analogies taken from human reason...'. As in the treatise itself, he explains in the autobiography that he did so at the request of his pupils 'because they asked for a human and philosophical basis, and preferred something they could understand to mere words. Talk alone was of no use, they said, if it was not accompanied by understanding. Nothing could be believed unless it was first understood, and it was ridiculous for some to preach to others on matters neither they nor their listeners could understand. Besides, the Lord Himself criticized the blind leading the blind/8 If one is unacquainted with the history of theology before Abelard, it may be difficult at first glance to see anything sensational in these words. None the less, they express a revolution. The previous method was that known to Abelard through Anselm of Laon. Authority was explained by means of other authorities. What was new therefore was that the explanation consisted not of different 'words', but of analogies. According to the old method, dogma was 'interpreted' with the help of quotations from the Church Fathers. Abelard also used the Fathers to establish the content of the dogma, but in his view this is merely the beginning. To have meaning for us, dogma

Disputes and Disappointments/75 must be commensurate with something we know. This is why Abelard used analogies taken from human reason; that is to say, similes from the material world which reason comprehends. There is no question of his believing it possible by means of these analogies, to make dogma evident to reason. Authority is absolutely necessary, but reason must be able to understand what it is that must be accepted on authority. Perhaps his line of thought may be illustrated in the following manner. The 'substance' of the dogma is the Church's doctrine of the Trinity, which is and must be revealed, but its 'form' must be comprehensible to reason. Abelard realizes of course that his analogies will never be anything more than similes, and that they cannot be exact because nothing in this world is precisely equivalent to God, but he believes that this is the only method possible. To the traditionalists this was most disturbing, and there is no doubt whatever it was the method itself that set off his enemies against him. Among Abelard's contemporaries at Laon were two men who later became masters at Rheims, Alberic and Lotulf. They considered themselves to be Anselm of Laon's heirs, and now saw the Laon tradition threatened. In his autobiography Abelard refers in some detail to their action which led to the convening of a synod at Soissons in 1121, presided over by the papal legate and the Archbishop of Rheims. On the other hand, he is completely silent about another attack. His work - in accordance with his nature - was very polemic. In particular he took great pains to dissociate himself from the teacher of his youth, the notorious Roscelin. It is therefore not surprising that Roscelin, who had already suffered the censure of the Church, considered it necessary to protest. We have no record of his works, but there exists a letter from Abelard to the Bishop of Paris asking the bishop to summon Roscelin so that the matter might be clarified in a disputation.4 It is doubtful however whether Abelard got anything out of this. In any event, he later tried by different means to attack Roscelin by writing to his colleagues, the canons at St Martin of Tours, to warn them against the old heretic. This letter also is not preserved, but the letter Roscelin sent Abelard on this occasion exists. This letter is hard to equal in coarseness and spite. Roscelin does not refrain from mocking Abelard's disablement and showers insults upon him.5 However,

j6 /Peter Abelard we do not know what good grounds he might have had for doing this. The whole episode was not of significant importance. Roscelin had a bad name and no influence. It was quite a different matter with the two masters at Rheims. Unfortunately we are very badly informed about what happened at the Synod of Soissons. No documents or other writings from the synod itself exist. We only know of it through contemporary references, Abelard providing most information. There is no reason here to quote his temperamental account. It is sufficient for us to establish certain fairly definite points. To start with the result, Abelard was sentenced to throw his book on the fire himself, and to permanent detention in the monastery of St Medard, whose abbot was present. The verdict was pronounced without Abelard's having an opportunity to defend himself.6 They dared not allow him to speak for fear that his eloquence might convince the bishops of the justice of his case. Among these was the respected Geoffrey of Chartres, perhaps the only theologically informed bishop at the assembly. He had in vain appealed to the synod to refrain from convicting Abelard. The papal legate, who can scarcely have had much idea of what it was all about, first seemed inclined to drop the matter but finally decided upon conviction. However, the synod was barely over before he released Abelard from St Medard and allowed him to return to St Denis, which suggests that his conscience cannot have been too clear. There is consequently no doubt that the synod's conduct was contrary to ecclesiastical law (as Abelard had not been heard) and that the conviction was unjust. For a self-respecting man such as Abelard, it was dreadful to have to humiliate himself, and he writes with great sincerity of his being filled with bitterness against God. In his despair, he thought this to be the worst that had so far befallen him. 'I compared what I had previously suffered in my body with what I had now to tolerate, and considered myself the most unhappy of all men. The treachery then practised I considered insignificant compared with the injustice now done to me, and I lamented much more the injury to my reputation than that suffered by my body. The latter I had inflicted upon myself through my own guilt, whereas the purest intentions and love of our Faith had moved me to write, thereby

Disputes and Disappointments/77 making me the victim of so manifest an assault/7 It appears however that Abelard overestimated the damaging effect upon him of the sentence. On the one hand, his awareness of the injustice of the sentence was deeply felt; on the other hand, it became apparent that it in no way had any effect upon his subsequent teaching activities. But Abelard's trials were not over with his release from St Medard. A welcome anything but friendly was awaiting him among the brothers at St Denis, who had not forgotten his criticisms of their way of life. With that special talent for arousing opposition which distinguished him, he soon succeeded in giving them further cause for anger. Supported by a passage from the Venerable Bede (673/74-735), one of the most distinguished 'authorities' of the Middle Ages, he expressed doubt as to the accuracy of some information in St Denis' monastic records concerning the founder of the monastery. Patience was now exhausted. Led by the abbot, the monks prepared a complaint to the king, the patron of the monastery, to persuade him to punish Abelard. In this precarious situation, surrounded as he was by enemies, the unhappy man saw no other course but flight. He set out for Champagne, whose count he knew. From there, with the help of friends, he sought to reach an understanding with the monastery. His plan was to get permission to live as a monk in a place of his own choice. To appease the abbot he supported his case by proving in his letter that there was no reason to put one's trust in Bede, as other equally important authorities were in favour of the tradition of the monastery.8 It is impossible to know whether this letter in fact results from Abelard's having reached a different conviction from that which had stirred up the monks against him, or whether he acted purely from opportunism. It is also possible that he had all along known of the 'authorities' mentioned in the letter, but simply neglected to refer to them earlier so that he might irritate his fellow monks the more! It proved to be difficult however to obtain the desired permission. In spite of all the animosity towards Abelard, St Denis had no wish to see him join another monastery. The abbot, Adam, died soon afterwards and was succeeded by the famous Suger. He also was reluctant, but through influence at Court he was

78/Peter Abelard persuaded in spite of misgivings to grant the permission, with the proviso that Abelard joined no other monastery. He therefore obtained leave to live at a solitary place of his choice, but he was not allowed to join any society of monks. Abelard chose a remote spot near the town of Troyes, whose bishop gave him permission to erect a small chapel on a piece of ground presented to him. This oratory, constructed from reeds and straw, Abelard named the Paraclete - the Comforter; the name given to the Holy Spirit in the Gospel of St John - because he found comfort and rest there. But by no means was his life to be marked by solitude. The students soon gathered, and before long Abelard's school was flourishing as never before. Nothing can speak more strongly for Abelard's amazing position in the world of learning than the fact that his students followed him into the wilderness. At the same time, it gives a general indication of the simple conditions still prevalent in academic life. Later on it was the schools which attracted the masters, but at the time of Abelard the master was identical with the school. The life unfolding around the Paraclete in the years 1123-1126 would have appeared very odd to us. The students had to build themselves huts to live in. They cultivated the fields and built a new oratory of stone and wood. The miserable hermit's cell was therefore transformed into a large-scale complex of buildings, swarming with youth eager to learn. The realization that neither misfortune nor persecution could impair his reputation nor deprive him of the love of the students gave Abelard new strength. In those years he wrote one book after another, and thus once again gave the world food for thought. But this served also to awaken his enemies from the erroneous belief that he was defeated, and they began once more to consider how they could render him harmless. He gives a very vivid description of living from that time on in constant fear of a new anathema, but unfortunately his account is very vague and we know nothing concrete that might disclose whether this fear was well founded or not. It can scarcely have been completely groundless, since Abelard relates that at one time he even considered going to a heathen country to be permitted to live in peace as a Christian. In his despair, he now received an offer which he believed would put an end to the unrest.

Disputes and Disappointments/79 From the monastery of St Gildas de Ruys in far-away Brittany he received an invitation to become its abbot. He obtained permission from St Denis, and then decided to hide himself away in this remote part of the country. As a consequence, he was left in peace by his former enemies, as the school at the Paraclete was of course dissolved and could no longer threaten them. One of Abelard's pupils named Hilarius wrote a lament on the departure of the master. In it he attempts to interpret the sorrow and indignation of the students: 4If you deny us your help, this place will no longer be called a house of prayer (oratorium) but a house of lament (ploratoriutn)/9 Abelard had no illusions about the life he was entering. 'Thus the same happened to me as to the man who, terrified of the sword threatening him, throws himself into the abyss, and so, to delay one manner of death for a moment, is overtaken by another. In the same way I, with my full knowledge, set out from one danger into another, and there beside the roaring ocean waves where the most distant frontier of the country prevented me from fleeing further I often repeated in my prayers: "From the remotest frontiers of the world I cried to you, while my heart was troubled"/ He remained in Brittany as abbot from about 1126 until the early 11305. It was a dangerous and thankless life, which he was ever about to lose because of the hatred of the uncivilized, covetous and immoral monks. This was his situation in about 1132 when he wrote his autobiography. With his life daily in danger, surrounded as he was by poisoners and blasphemers wearing the monk's cowl, he longed for death as a release. Although throughout this period Abelard was out of touch with the academic world he was not completely without contact with his old surroundings. He had left the Paraclete, to which while in Brittany he often longed to return, and he was concerned that he had left it without having been able to make provision for the continuation of the divine office. Soon however an opportunity arose for him to make good this deficiency. The abbot of St Denis, Suger, while going through the archives of the abbey, discovered a claim upon the property of the convent of Argenteuil, which he immediately asserted. In 1128 the nuns were driven out. Among these women, now homeless, was their prioress, Heloise. As soon as Abelard learned of this he handed

So/Peter Abdard over to her and some of the nuns his property, the Paraclete, with all its adjoining land. The deed of gift was confirmed in 1131 by Pope Innocent II to the nuns and their successors for ever. Thereafter, the establishment of the new community brought him often to the Paraclete to assist the nuns and to preach to them. In the very middle of his fruitless battle to maintain even an appearance of monastic discipline at St Gildas he had now been given a task which filled him with joy and made great demands upon his energy. It appears that for a short time he dreamt of ending his life at the Paraclete near his wife, as spiritual adviser and preacher to the little community of nuns. But soon malignant accusations concerning his relationship to Heloi'se forced him once again to take flight. Although unable to understand the reasons for such suspicion, he retired once more to his unruly monastery. It seems that, as a consequence, the connection between him and Heloise was broken until she re-established it after reading the autobiography. In the long succession of years before 1140 we have very little to go on. We do not know precisely when Abelard left St Gildas; only that he did so with the bishop's consent and with the right to retain his rank of abbot. This was probably during 1132 or 1133. Nor do we know what he undertook during the following years until he reappeared in Paris in 1136. But we do know a little about the subject of his thoughts - Heloise and the Paraclete. After the first passionate letters from Heloi'se, and Abelard's reply to them, the entire correspondence concerns the problems of monastic life. Here also Heloise shows her independence and her brilliant mind. She gives him one problem after another. Theological, liturgical and ethical problems are unrolled, and in deference to her wishes Abelard puts all his energy into helping her to arrive at an understanding. At her request he writes a new rule for the Paraclete. Similarly, he provides hymns to be used during services and sends her sermons. Not in vain did she implore him to help her live the life he had himself decided upon for her. Perhaps we are going too far if we read into this correspondence a suggestion on his part that she had been wrong in believing he had not loved her. But it at least gives the impression that the mutilated man, helpless in the face of a passion he could no longer comprehend, now gives her every-

Disputes and Disappointments/8i thing remaining to him, for each is now the only person tying the other to this world, although in different ways. This desperate attempt to express a love different from and greater than charity develops in the following correspondence into a gentle concentration of all his effort. He explains to her that her difficulties give her an opportunity to gain the crown of victory, while he, as the one released from sensuality, has no crown to expect. The master admires and loves his pupil, Heloise. It is perhaps she who in the end has taught him what his gifts and his study could not teach - to love and to live. But this preoccupation with Heloise and the problems of monastic life had scarcely at any time dissociated him completely from science. For him, this knowledge was now completely at the service of the life borne witness to in his letters to Heloise. This did not mean that his opinions, philosophical and theological, had changed to any extent, but that they served a different purpose. Of course, we do not suggest that he had completely lost his former vanity. We know nothing of this. But there is no doubt that he was a different man after his 'conversion'. Perhaps during the years that are obscure to us he examined and revised his earlier writings. In any event, it is certain that he was to be found once more at Mont Ste Genevieve in Paris in 1136, where he was heard by among others John of Salisbury (c. 1120-1180). The long absence appears in no way to have been a hindrance to him. His reputation reached heights previously unknown. Young students from all over Europe gathered to hear him, and his books were spread throughout many countries. Soon after, however, he disappeared once more from Paris, but very probably reappeared in the next few years. We can gain no certain knowledge of his whereabouts before the attack was commenced that finally defeated him. In this last battle he found an opponent too strong for him: Bernard of Clairvaux; This struggle and its consequences will be recounted later. First we must look in more detail at Abelard's thought, and then examine the motivation of his opponent.

CHAPTER 5

Abelard's Thought

It was as dialectician that Abelard from the very outset won his fame at the Paris schools. His field of activity was very limited, in terms of the educational traditions of the early Middle Ages comprised in the Seven Liberal Arts. Many of his contemporaries possessed a far wider knowledge, but what he may have lacked in range he made up in intensity and depth. The basis of his logic was the same as that of earlier centuries: a couple of Aristotle's treatises on logic - The Categories and On Interpretation - Porphyry's Commentary on Aristotle's Theory of Categories, Boethius' Commentary on Aristotle and Porphyry, and Boethius' own treatises on logic. Following the educational tradition, Abelard's logic originally consisted merely of glosses explanatory notes - on these 'authorities'. In hisfinalwork - the Dialectica - he attempted a more systematic and independent presentation, but the basis remained the same.1 It was Porphyry's commentary that presented the problem of universals to the logicians of the Middle Ages. Abelard, in the dispute with William of Champeaux already referred to, solved the problem on the basis of his knowledge of Aristotle. His conception, which will not be developed in detail, impresses one mostly by reason of its formulation upon such a limited knowledge of Aristotle. Abelard was not content to question the validity of William's naive realism, but went on to draw the logical conclusion by presenting a theory of perception very similar to the viewpoint

Abelard'sThowght/83 that became predominant a little less than a century later, when all Aristotle's works had been translated. Against this background, Bernhard Geyer is of the opinion that his penetration into Aristotelean logic and his independent treatment of it was without equal in the twelfth century.2 With no knowledge of the other areas of Aristotle's philosophy, he succeeded in maintaining the formal character of logic; that is, he kept it free from confusion with metaphysical speculation. A philosophical system in the form of a world view is not to be found in Abelard; neither do we find physical observations based upon experiment. His interest is pure logic, in the sense that he keeps to the investigation of the significance of our concepts and propositions. It is of course common knowledge that logic was particularly prone to tempt acute minds into an exciting word-play, which could end in idle hair-splitting. This was very clearly recognized even in Abelard's time; for example, one might enter into discussion as to whether the pig being taken to market is pulled by the rope by which it is tied or by the man holding the rope.8 But Abelard had better things to do than to occupy himself with this kind of 'problem'. The fact that logic is not concerned with matters beyond consciousness but merely with words and sentences certainly did not suggest to him that there is no connection between logic and what really exists, for words and sentences are not empty sounds but expressions of our perception of the reality surrounding us. To occupy oneself with the meaning of words and sentences and their relationship is therefore not an amusement for the quick witted but a rational arrangement of elements, whose association ; with extramental reality is implicit. While dialectical investigation itself is a purely rational activity - that is to say, is not dependent upon the sensible - its value rests upon the fact that the components with which it works correspond to extra-mental reality. As a true Aristotelean, Abelard stresses that all human understanding is based upon experience. Perception is the first link in understanding; by the activity of the intellect, the formation of the concept occurs by abstraction; the sensory image is torn away from its special circumstances, since the intellect (ratio) is able to abstract one part of a number of things, namely that part

84/Peter Abdard in which things resemble one another in spite of their individual nature. The universal is therefore not a thing - res - but neither is it 'a no thing'. Through abstraction therefore are formed those concepts with which logic works. From this it follows that it is beyond the interest of dialectic to occupy itself with words and sentences of a fictitious character; that is to say, with words that do not correspond to something actually existing, that do not express an understanding based, in the last instance, upon sensory perception. Idle hair-splitting, in other words, is not to the point. On the other hand, understanding that springs from true dialectic must be itself true in the sense that it corresponds to an extra-mental reality. Assuming the necessary association between the understanding of the concept and the exterior reality, a conviction of the equally necessary 'real character' of the logical conclusion becomes comprehensible. Or perhaps one should rather say: assuming the existence of this conviction, the all-dominating interest in dialectic becomes comprehensible.4 Nevertheless, the sense of the words when put together into sentences rests not only upon conformity with an external reality but also upon their relationship. It is in this connection we can see that there is a special element in Abelard's philosophy. Bernhard Geyer expresses the matter thus: 'His philosophy is not a natural philosophy like that of the Chartres school, nor is it an a priori deduction and construction as with Anselm of Canterbury, but a critical analysis of the content of consciousness on the basis of linguistic expression/ It is as a linguistic logician that Abelard occupies an outstanding position in history. We shall later have an opportunity to follow some of his operations, and we shall therefore do no more here than indicate by an example the importance of linguistic logic. The 'problem' referred to earlier as to whether it is the man or the rope that pulls the pig to market would be rejected immediately by Abelard, not only in the way that a person 'innocent' of logic would reject it as a 'silly' question, but by establishing without difficulty that no problem exists, because 'to pull to market' is not the same in the two sentences that could be formed with 'man' and 'rope' as the subject respectively. Of course! one might very well say; but this was not so obvious in Abelard's time. The example is given here only to

Abelard's Thougkt/85 add emphasis to what we have tried to point out earlier - that the dialectic to which Abelard gave so much weight was not mere empty verbosity, but was to him a tool, the most distinguished he knew, in his work towards an understanding of human existence. For Abelard, the function of dialectic is to distinguish between the true and the false. Knowledge of the empirical world stakes out the boundaries of the area within which it is reasonable to attempt to determine whether an opinion is true or false. Grammar safeguards against a formalism which even on the premises of 'physics' can lead to decisions made on a false basis. As an independent science dialectic is purely formal, insofar as its subject is words and their correct use. As an 'applied* science it is a method used on the material of another science. In this sense it is formal insofar as it contributes no new content of any kind but is merely a means of 'understanding' the substance of this other science. Consequently, dialectic is to such a small extent a special enterprise in abstract theory that applied dialectic often became for Abelard a synonym for human reason: ratio. Of course he also uses this expression psychologically, but in the present connection it is thought of less as a characteristic of man than as a function, an opportunity to understand. The basic conception that we have tried to suggest here became of current interest to Abelard when during his stay at Laon he was provoked into giving theological lectures. The manner in which, according to his autobiography, he replied to his opponents shows very clearly that he considered dialectic not merely as a special science but as a method that could be used directly on otherwise unknown material.5 But in his theological work generally Abelard devotes much space and force to developing his view of the importance of dialectic in theological study. His reflections have given rise to the most varied assessments. He has been enthusiastically acclaimed as the free intellect surrounded by authoritarian, clerical obscurantists, and he has been classified with disgust with the eighteenth-century rationalists. In other quarters - and increasingly in recent research - reference to him as a rationalist has been rejected, if by that term is meant an advocate of the opinion that human

86/Peter Abelard reason is competent to evaluate authority - divine Revelation. It is incidentally characteristic that, in this field as in so many others, Abelard has enraged his devotees. He is one of these figures in history whom it is plainly difficult to ignore. He has continually evoked the strongest feelings among both friend and foe. He did so while he was alive, and it appears that he will continue to do so as long as students take an interest in him. If we are clear about what dialectic meant to Abelard, it is not difficult to arrive at his attitude towards the relationship between theology and dialectic. Dialectic is, for him, in no way a conveyor of truth but an indispensable aid in the understanding and formulation of what is implicit; that is, the content of Revelation. He is sincerely convinced that true dialectic must necessarily serve Faith, for all artes are God's gift and consequently must serve Him in spite of the evil thoughts of men. Faith cannot be in opposition to the things created by God and investigated by philosophy.6 One might say that this line of thought builds upon the conviction that all truth originates in God. In this Abelard agrees with Anselm of Canterbury, who also substantiates his attempt to find reasons for Faith by asserting that truth cannot be opposed to God. But it would be wrong to conclude from this that Abelard considered it possible to replace, so to say, Faith with reason. There is no question of this. Faith itself is implicit, and it is important to appreciate this to the greatest possible extent. He speaks very clearly of the symbolic character that must characterize all human assertions concerning God.7 In this connection Abelard's case is far more modest than Anselm's. The great archbishop wished by his understanding to reach beyond Faith; he wished to anticipate, so to say, the eternal beholding of God. Abelard had no thought of anticipating eternity in this manner; unlike the Platonist Anselm, he was more down to earth and could only attempt to interpret, to decipher, Revelation in a language appropriate to the degree of perception that was humanly possible for him. He in no way considered a rational mastery of the divine to be possible for man; in contrast to what might be said of Anselm, there was in his efforts nothing of what the Greeks called thcoria, speculative insight; contemplation. Rather might it be said that his concern was what

Abelard's Thought/Sj theologians of today call 'the hermeneutic problem'; that is to say, his most important purpose was not to reach beyond the spoken word to a higher perception but to understand what had been told to the Fathers. It is therefore characteristic of Abelard that he introduces his main theological work, Theologia, by saying that he makes no promise to speak truth, but only following the wishes of his students - to set out his opinion (opinio).8 This phrase later gave rise to Bernard of Clairvaux's indignation, as he considered that Abelard thereby turned Faith into an opinion; that is to say, a not very deeply-rooted conception. But this was not the intention. Abelard wished in no way to question Revelation, but only to distinguish between Faith and the task of theology - the attempt to understand. The necessity to explain and to defend the use of dialectic in theological work was of course related to the widespread suspicion of dialecticians. Abelard also was very much alive to the false use of dialectic, and he gives strong warning against this. In this connection he enjoyed quoting the Pauline words, that knowledge gives self-conceit, but he asserts that one is misdirected if one concludes from this that there is something amiss with dialectic.9 He knows of only one effective weapon against the sophisms of pseudo-dialecticians - to fight them on their own ground, that is to say with better and more correct dialectic.10 It is worth noting that for Abelard dialectic was an inborn gift, and he was no great believer in the possibility of acquiring by diligence and effort what has not been given to one.11 It is therefore difficult for him to see in the opposition to dialectic anything other than intellectual impotence - the envy of the less endowed towards the gifted.12 Dialectic must be used as a weapon against lack of Faith. This is a point of view constantly emphasized by Abelard. Dialectic will break down the objections to Revelation, which are of course always false because truth cannot be opposed to God. But dialectic also has a function of a different nature: to teach us to use the authorities correctly. Abelard embarks upon this most notably in the famous introduction to the treatise Sic et Non (Yes and No), in which he sets out his programme for dialectical adjustment between seemingly contradictory authorities. The treatise itself consists entirely of

88/PeterAbelard quotations from the Fathers, the liturgy, canon law and the Bible, set out in such a manner that every statement concerning a subject is immediately followed by another having the opposite content. Abelard adds nothing; the solution is left to the reader, who is however shown the proper direction by means of the principles Abelard describes in the introduction. It has sometimes been thought that his intention in this work was to create unrest or to sow doubt The latter is out of the question, as it would of course conflict with his basic viewpoint, which itself presupposes that conflicting authorities are an impossibility. It is on the other hand justifiable to say that unrest was created in the sense that he wished to give food for thought. He wanted to point out that the authorities as they stand cannot be accepted in intellectual lethargy, but that an effort, intellectual responsibility, is required. Abelard's rules, which include the need for textual criticism (an 'authority' can be adulterated or wrongly quoted) and an investigation of the historical position of the individual authorities (the Fathers, for example, may have had different opinions at different times), will not be gone into here. We shall refer to only one point that is especially characteristic of him: the reference to the fact that conflicting statements are often based upon the different use of words. Sometimes therefore the resolution of the apparent contrast stems from an examination of the context of the statements concerned, using linguistic logic as the only aid. It is not difficult to follow how Abelard, at first with no hesitation, made use of dialectic in his theology, but gradually found it more and more necessary to defend his method against objections. In the theological treatise burnt at the stake at Soissons - Abelard's first theological work - Roscelin was the main antagonist. Since Roscelin had himself made use of the dialectical method, although in Abelard's opinion with an intellectually worthless and incidentally heretical result, a more detailed justification of the employment of logical argument was unnecessary here. But in later works Abelard is at great pains to substantiate his conception by quotations from the Fathers and by new arguments. One can directly perceive in these writings the truth of the words in his autobiography, where he refers to his constant awareness of the threat of a new anathema over his

Abelard's TJiought/Sg unpopular head. Although, in spite of this, he continued in the same manner, it was not out of obstinacy but because of an unfailing certainty that his method was correct; a certainty, incidentally, that was in no way shaken by the final judgment on him in 1140. What appeared to his opponents to be impious juggling with the truths of Faith was to Abelard a passion inseparably associated with his personal relationship to Christianity. In the school of Anselm of Laon, Abelard had missed that dialectical treatment of the verities of the Faith which he himself later attempted to impart, and whose importance he sought to explain in the reflections here referred to. But the traditional attitude was not easy to overcome. In his account of the Synod of Soissons in 1121, Abelard writes of a small episode that may be said to typify the outlook. One of his enemies, Alberic of Rheims, believed one day that he had found a suspicious sentence in Abelard's book, and went to him with some pupils to try to provoke him. When Alberic had disclosed his business, the following characteristic exchange of words took place: '"As far as this is concerned/'3 I replied immediately, "I shall substantiate this rationally, if you so wish." "In this kind of thing," he answered, "we do not care about human reason or our own opinion, but only for the word of an authority." '1S Abelard's offer to 'substantiate this rationally' was simply an offer to explain what the disputed sentence meant and nothing more. Alberic's reply therefore indicated to him that the other was not interested in the sense but only in 'words'; this as we know was precisely his accusation against their common teacher, Anselm of Laon. For Alberic, the task of theology was to reproduce authority, that is to say to repeat tradition. The independent contribution was mainly in the manner in which the material was arranged. In other words, he stopped at the point where in Abelard's opinion the work began in earnest. It can be quite enlightening here also to compare Abelard with Anselm of Canterbury. Both of them are concerned with demonstrating why theology cannot remain static with the Fathers, in contrast to traditional theology which wishes merely to reproduce. But how different are their reasons for this! Anselm - in true conformity with the concept of authority -

90 /Peter Abelard begins by establishing the absolute unrivalled superiority of the Holy Fathers. How then can he find room for his own work? This he contrives by a reference to the briefness of life: not even the Fathers had enough time to say everything! It is true that they have no equal, but posterity should be allowed to strive after what they did not reach. Apart from this, truth is so wide and deep that no mortal can hope to exhaust it, and although the time of the Fathers is past, the Lord does not cease to be part of His Church.14 The latter somewhat trivial argument we shall disregard. As concerns the reference to the brevity of life, this is a peculiarly quantitative argument: the holes must be filled up! It is clearly a premise that the work of the Fathers has timeless validity. As to the concept of the width and depth of truth, it should be pointed out that Anselm here demonstrates the exclusive character of theology: it is not a matter of the redeeming truth necessary to everybody, but of truth as an object for contemplation. Anselm's viewpoint in this matter is very remote from Abelard's. He, Abelard, is not concerned with filling up the holes left by the Fathers nor with arriving at an understanding reaching beyond faith. For him the object of theology is the Catholic faith itself, which to him means: what is necessary for salvation.15 But if none of Anselm's arguments are of interest to us, why cannot we be content with what the Fathers have written concerning faith? He himself puts this question in one place: of what use was all the discussion of the faith by all these Holy Fathers if there still remains an uncertainty to be discussed? To this he replies: 'It was sufficient for them to solve the problems that came to their notice, to decide the uncertainties of their own times and to leave to their successors an example of how to consider similar problems if they should arise/16 In other words: Each era has its problems. The Fathers can provide an answer to nothing but the problems of their own times. For Abelard, the task of theology is therefore determined historically; every age must find its own answers. He therefore succeeded in defining theology in a manner freeing it from Anselm of Canterbury's exclusiveness, as well as from the timeless traditionalism of Anselm of Laon. The starting point is the hermeneutic (interpretative) task, for it was 'ridiculous for anybody to preach to

Abelard's Thought/gi others about what neither he nor his audience could understand'.17 But the questions to be answered under the guidance of the authorities are those of the age itself. Only in this way can theology fulfil its task. All of Abelard's theological work is based upon the foundation of faith. He regards himself as an apologist as against heathens and heretics; at the same time he sees his theology as concerned with the curing of souls, insofar as its purpose is the defence of the 'simplicity' (simplicitas) of the faith against the sophists.18 It is fully apparent to him that his work is characteristic of the period, and he realizes that it is important to retain an intellectual composure if analogies and similes are not to be confused with the substance itself. He has no wish to use his philosophy to set himself above faith or on a par with it, but to serve it, because he is convinced that true philosophy is consistent with Revelation. It is therefore impossible to shake him in his conviction that theology built upon the artes, above all dialectic, is better than that which is not, that Paul is a better theologian than Peter and that Augustine is better than St Martin of Tours.19 Abelard succeeded, in a manner superior to and more pointed than any before him, in formulating a programme for the employment of dialectic in theology. On the strength of this programme alone, Abelard stands out as one of the central figures of the 'renaissance'; since it was his deep penetration into Aristotelism that made it possible for him to produce his programme. In the conviction that the quality of theology qua theology is dependent upon the degree to which it rests upon artes - that is to say, classical educational tradition - a Christian humanism is voiced that was to be of consequence to the content of his theology. In his attempt to defend the faith against Jews and heathens he touches upon the heathen philosophers' perception of God.20 It is basic to him that it has always been man's own fault if he has not known God and His will. It is therefore important to establish that the correct perception has always been available to the heathen world, at least through the medium of its most outstanding representatives. The next step was of current interest: by demonstrating that the philosophers conformed to the Christian faith, Abelard wishes to refute heretics and heathens in their attack on Church doctrine. But he has no

9* /Peter Abelard interest in the philosophers' theories as such. For example, he has no wish to construct a metaphysic on the basis of Platonic philosophy. The object is entirely apologetic: to refute the suggestion that reason would necessarily lead to a result different from Revelation. Abelard's knowledge of classical philosophy was however limited. In this field he could derive nothing from Aristotelean logic. He knew Plato's Timaeus and some of Cicero's works, but he took most of his material from Christian writers of late Antiquity.21 It is for him a proven fact that the philosophers knew there was only one God and that they demonstrated by their manner of life that they had the correct perception. It should be noted in this connection that Abelard, like his contemporaries, considered a moral life to be a mandatory prerequisite for correct perception. Consequently, the Fathers' testimony to the pure life of certain philosophers is weighty evidence in favour of the reliability of their intellectual potential. He shows the greatest interest in Plato, in whom he finds the entire Christian doctrine of the Trinity, although not expressed with the same clarity as in the Christian Revelation. In particular he devotes much effort to establishing that the World Soul, anima mundi, is the same as the Holy Spirit, which caused much indignation at the time. Abelard's attempt at identification, apart from being rather far-fetched, was bound to raise suspicion because there were many others at the time who occupied themselves with the anima mundi concept out of metaphysical interest, with results, such as pantheism, quite alarming in a Christian context.22 But as we have said, Abelard was quite without such interests. He does not interpret Christianity on the basis of Plato but interprets Plato on the basis of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. But in fact Abelard gradually changed his opinion in relation to the philosophers. He originally believed that almost all Christian dogma was to be found in them, but later he became more and more inclined to stress the differences.28 It is characteristic of Abelard that he concentrated his main theological effort upon what was considered to be most difficult: the doctrine of the Trinity. After he had been forced at Soissons to throw on to the stake his initial work on this, he began once

Abelard's Thought/93 again during his period at the Paraclete. This resulted in a far more extensive work, under the title Theologia Christiana. Meanwhile, he drafted - perhaps while still at the Paraclete - a plan for a comprehensive and systematic study of the whole doctrine of the faith, of which however he only succeeded in writing the first third. This work - Theologia - is in fact a revision of TheoJogia Christiana, which is itself very largely based upon the book condemned at Soissons. There is, in the outline and in much of the wording, a clear continuity. We can see in this a very characteristic aspect of Abelard's working method. He repeatedly subjected the book to revision, but in such a manner that he left a great deal standing from edition to edition. The alterations took the form not so much of changes in the wording as of deletions and additions. For example, the first book exists in two versions, Thcologia Christiana in three versions and Theologia in as many as five. A similar state of affairs is apparent in his other works.24 Abelard was the first to use the word * theology' in the sense it has been used since his time and to this very day. The Fathers never use the word when referring to Christian doctrine, but only about what we call Greco-Roman mythology. The word was therefore heavily encumbered with tradition, and it needed the audacity and inventiveness, not to say the impudence and self-assurance, of someone like Abelard to use it in relation to the 'sacred doctrine', 'the true philosophy', or whatever other expression one was accustomed to.25 The word 'Theologia' may have caused some slightly indignant curiosity, but the contents evoked far stronger feelings. It is out of place here to describe in detail Abelard's doctrine of the Trinity, but it is necessary for us to concern ourselves with certain aspects of it if we are to understand the dispute to which it gave rise. The Church doctrine on the Trinity was, as we know, developed in ancient times and acquired its more detailed elaboration through a number of dogmatic disputes. In Latin Christianity, Augustine's great work On the Trinity came to be accepted as the conclusive synthesis of clerico-orthodox doctrine, and consequently as a guide for the theology of the Middle Ages. As the dogma had long been established from a canonical aspect, there was no longer a free field of action here for the theologians. Their concern could only be to render as faithfully

94/Peter Abelard as possible the dogma that taught of three Persons in one deity. The Persons were equal in every respect, indeed they were One, only separated in their relation to one another as Persons. The whole dogma rests upon a subtle philosophical conceptual apparatus of which a present-day person can probably acquire only a quite superficial understanding, although it must be stressed that this is not to say that the dogma possesses no comprehensible human element. Although Abelard and his contemporaries were familiar with this form of the dogma, this is not to say they had no inkling of the difficulties. For this reason, by far the greater part of the space Abelard devotes to the doctrine of the Trinity is taken up by explanations. The Church doctrine itself he puts forward briefly, dearly and correctly. But in accordance with his methodical principles he believes that the explanation is more important. 'What indeed is the use of talking in order to teach if what we wish to teach cannot be explained so that it can be understood?'26 And how is such an explanation to be effected? This can be done only with the aid of examples and similes. To explain is to compare the dogma, or what forms part of it, with known things. As an explanation must not only illuminate the dogma but also refute the enemies of Christ, examples and similes must be taken from a field recognized by these enemies; that is to say, from the sciences.27 Authority, the dogma, is absolute, the foundation, and precedes the arguments, which must be viewed as the 'buttresses' (fulcitnenta). They are added so that the enemies of Christ cannot by their verbosity mock the simplicity of faith.28 They submit only to reason, and they must therefore be answered by one well versed in the sciences from which they take their arguments. The question now is: to what extent is this project possible, and what is it that one may hope in this way to substantiate by reason? Abelard in no way tries to conceal the difficulty that arises from God's being infinitely different from everything else and therefore from everything we know of. God is the absolutely unique One for Whom the potentialities of language are truly insufficient. Words, Abelard believes, are formed by man to describe his understanding of created things. Language is, so to speak, determined by our temporality. It is therefore not surpris-

Abelard's Thought/95 ing that God goes far beyond what we can express and understand. We have no vocabulary specifically suited to God, and therefore everything we say about Him has a figurative, metaphorical meaning.29 In spite of these difficulties, which in truth perhaps end in the impossible, the attempt must be made. But awareness of the conditions underlying this attempt also leads to an assessment of the scope of the attempt, and this demands our interest. The consequence of the 'incompetence' of language is that interpretation of the dogma, which is carried out with the aid of examples and similes, must lack the precise nature that characterizes our understanding of created things. But to interpret the dogma in this manner Abelard calls 'justifying by reason'. It therefore appears that 'justifying by reason' is the same as using pictures, that is to say the examples and similes referred to. Against this background it becomes comprehensible that Abelard can say: '... we certainly do not promise to teach the truth, which we believe is beyond the attainment of us or any other mortal; but we do at least wish to present something that is similar to truth (verisitmli), something that accords with human reason without conflicting with the sacred faith, turned against those who boast of fighting the faith with human arguments they care for nothing but human arguments which they know, and they readily find many followers, since almost all men are unintellectual and only very few are intellectual'.80 These sentences apply solely to Abelard's attempt to interpret Revelation. He will only promise to produce something similar to the truth, because no simile is identical with the matter itself, and he can give nothing but similies, for ' . . . faith is a conviction of that which we cannot see'; that is to say, that which cannot be made the object of perception founded upon sensation. 'It is one thing to understand or believe, but another to perceive or clarify.'31 Abelard does not confuse his understanding, his interpretation of Revelation, with 'scientific' perception, but it is for him a necessity to understand, that is to say interpret, the language of divine authority in a manner analogous to what we as men know. Abelard's thoughts on the Trinity are based upon the old tradition, in that he applies the concepts of power, wisdom and

96 /Peter Abelard goodness to the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost respectively. The name of the Father expresses in particular the power of the divine majesty: that He can do whatever He wishes. The name of the Son or the Word signifies the wisdom of God, by which He can see through everything and can be deceived by nothing. The Holy Ghost expresses the goodness of God, by which He accomplishes everything in the optimum manner. Therefore, Abelard believes, the Trinity embraces the whole divine perfection.32 He presents at great length a 'proof from authority' that the three divine names truly express God's power, wisdom and goodness respectively, and he then refers to the philosophers, particularly Plato. But the real problem still remains. How can there be in God several Persons separate from one another, if it has been established that God is an indivisible unity? Tradition maintains that the Persons are separated as concerns their relationship: what is peculiar to the Father is to be 'unborn', that is to say to have His being from Himself and not from another; the Son is characterized by being born of the Father, not created; and the Holy Ghost 'proceeds' from both the Father and the Son. As we have seen, Abelard makes no claim to demonstrate the truth of this doctrine, but he wishes with the aid of a few similes to make the relationship between the Persons intelligible. Nothing but authority can say that this is how God is, but we can try to find something in this world that is similar to what authority says about God. This is of what interpretation of the dogma consists. Abelard presents many different images, but we shall only describe here the one he preferred. A seal is made of bronze. When the image of the king has been formed in the material, the seal is ready for use as a seal (sigillabile) even if it is not yet in use as a seal (sigillans). But when the wax is sealed with it we then find that there are three things in this one substance which are different as concerns their attributes; that is to say the bronze, the seal (sigillabile) and the sealing itself (sigillans). These three are mutually connected in the sense that the seal has proceeded from the bronze, and the sealing, for its part, from bronze and seal in association. In this way the image is ready for use: in the same way as the seal has its bronze nature from the bronze, so the Son has His being from the Father (ex substantia

Abelard's Thought/97 patris) and is said to be born of Him. Now, as we have already said, the name of the Father indicates to us especially the power of God, and that of the Son His wisdom. Consequently, Abelard believes, it can be said that wisdom is 'a certain power', in the same way as the seal is 'some bronze'. The wisdom is the power by which God sees through everything and can err in nothing. That the Son is born of the Father is therefore the same as saying that the wisdom is equivalent to the power to discern, that it has its being from the power of the Father and therefore is a kind of power itself. In order to avert the possible misunderstanding that he was in this way making the Son subsequent to the Father, which would be opposed to Church dogma, Abelard now finally points out that the power in no way goes before the wisdom, as the one is unthinkable without the other.33 He then continues by discussing the 'proceeding' of the Holy Ghost. He begins by demonstrating that goodness, as its name suggests, is not power or wisdom in God but rather His love which He reaches out towards another. From this basis Abelard now tries to show wherein lies the difference between the birth of the Son and the proceeding of the Holy Ghost. He Who is born is of the substance of the Father (ex substantia patris), which Abelard has shown by pointing out that wisdom is 'a certain' power. It is otherwise with the One Who 'proceeds', for the passion of love has more to do with goodness of the spirit than with power. Abelard therefore does not believe - in spite of certain Fathers - that one may say that the Holy Ghost is of the Father's substance, even though Father, Son and Holy Ghost are one and the same substance. Indeed, if one asserts this there is no difference between being born and proceeding, and it has then not been understood what separates the Son and the Holy Ghost from one another. The statement in the dogma that the Holy Ghost has proceeded from the Father and the Son means therefore that the Holy Ghost is the unity of love between Them. But then God in His perfection is in need of nothing. He therefore turns in His goodness towards created beings who need Him. But this goodness towards creation rests upon power and wisdom. If goodwill towards creation is to accomplish anything, the power to do so and the knowledge of how to do it is J

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98/Peter Abelard necessary. Therefore, the Holy Ghost proceeds from both the Father and the Son. Abelard now employs his simile once more: bronze, seal and sealing are different in their attributes, that is to say in their manner of existing in relation to one another, in the same way as are the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost; but they are of the same essence. Abelard finally stresses, in conformity with tradition, that the Almighty is of course both wise and good, but that this does not mean that the Father is the Son or the Holy Ghost. His use of the terms, power, wisdom and goodness, to characterize the relationship of the three Persons is therefore not intended to question the orthodox doctrine of the absolute equality of the Persons.34 Although Abelard's simile will scarcely make the primitive Church's dogma of the Trinity more understandable to a modern reader, it was for several reasons necessary to show here how his method was pursued. We are of course not concerned here with the dogma of the Trinity itself, but solely with Abelard's thought. What matters therefore is not whether his reasoning makes any impression today but how he wished to employ it. It is necessary to be absolutely clear about this if we are to understand the dispute to which his theology gave rise and its historico-intellectual background, which will be described later. What is it he wishes to make comprehensible with the aid of the seal image. It is solely the relationship between the Persons. Abelard, in accordance with Church doctrine, postulates and continues to repeat that God is one indivisible substance, and that all characteristics that do not concern the relationship between the Persons are common to all three Persons. But the characteristics that concern the relationship between the Persons are those and those alone that express themselves in their manner of existing in relation to one another: that the Father is the unborn, the Son the one born of the Father, and the Holy Ghost the One proceeding from the Father and the Son. Although Abelard uses the terms, power, wisdom and goodness, to characterize the three Persons, he stresses that the son is omnipotent on the same level as the Father and the Holy Ghost, the Father is wise on the same level as the Son and the Holy Ghost, etcetera. But the simile should not be employed to express this similarity and unity; it should only express the difference: that

Abelarci's Thought/99 which makes it necessary to speak of three Persons although there is only one God. If the simile is used differently it can lead to fatal consequences, but Abelard certainly does not do this. On the contrary, he says in one place that any simile applies to one part alone and never to the whole, because it is a fact that what is equal to something else (but implicitly not the same) is unequal to this other thing in some respects.35 It is therefore necessary to know exactly how one wishes to employ one's simile and how one does not wish to employ it. One leading authority on Abelard, J. G. Sikes, rightly points out that Augustine's On the Trinity is the basis of Abelard's doctrine. He adds that Abelard, in contrast to many of his contemporaries, was unable to reproduce what Sikes calls 'the metaphysical greatness of that book.'36 This is of course one way of expressing it. But one might also say that Abelard's discussion of the doctrine of the Trinity reveals none of that wider interest that might have tempted him to reproduce Augustine's metaphysical thought. His tool is dialectic alone and his material is Church dogma alone. His intention is not to reach beyond the dogma to a higher insight, but only to understand the dogma and at the same time to fight against false teachers. The means to this is solely interpretation; not explanation in the sense of a rational mastery of Church doctrine. Abelard, as an empirical Aristotelean, considered such an approach to be not only impossible but also contrary to the faith. Whatever reason is compelled to recognize has nothing to do with faith, and is therefore of no merit to God.37 Confronted with the enemies of Christ, he therefore has no hope of producing an irrefutable proof of his case, but merely of destroying their self-assurance when they assert that reason is contrary to faith. Anselm of Canterbury, as we know, had tried to prove the existence of God. Abelard also asks whether it is possible by the use of reason to apprehend that there is only one God. He does not go to much trouble over this question, and it is clear that he considered it not to be any problem. He reminds us that it is characteristic of reason to investigate those things that the senses cannot comprehend, and he points out that reason is the special proof of the God-image of man and should therefore have the potential of comprehending God, Whom it resembles. God

loo/Peter Abelard can be recognized, Abelard believes, in His work, as can the artist in his. He also brings into the discussion the writers of Antiquity, Cicero and Plato in particular.88 But he is much more concerned with the question of God's omnipotence. Can God do more and better things than He does? Abelard is inclined to answer: No. God does everything in the optimum manner and for the most reasonable cause. Although he is fully aware that most authorities say otherwise, Abelard still believes that God can only do what is proper to Him, and that whatever He leaves undone is not proper to Him. If one objects that God's sublimity is thereby reduced, for even we who are so much weaker can do many things that we do not do, he replies: this has nothing to do with the power of God. This 'ability' of ours is not merit but rather weakness, for we should be better if we could only do what we should do.39 Another important problem, which had also occupied Anselm of Canterbury, was the question of God's prescience and providence. God is unchanging and therefore has possessed all knowledge from eternity. Does this now mean that everything occurs inevitably? Abelard believes he has found in Aristotle the arguments that can dissolve the sophisms of the pseudo-philosophers, whereby they tend to confuse simple people's faith in God's providence by saying that not only good things but also evil things occur inevitably. Abelard starts from the principles of contradiction: it applies to every affirmative and negative that one of them is necessarily true. For example, the sentences: The battle at sea will take place tomorrow, and: The battle at sea will not take place tomorrow. One of the sentences is necessarily true and the other false, for they cannot both be true; and it is not possible for both of them to be false. But a distinction must now be made between two kinds of necessity: it is necessary for the battle either to take place or not to take place tomorrow, but it does not follow from this that it will necessarily take place or that it will necessarily not take place. On this basis, Abelard believes it to be possible to demonstrate that God's prescience imposes no determination upon events, any more than does our prescience or knowledge. If I watch a person writing, it is necessary that he does so, but my observation does not compel him to do so.40

Abelard's Thought/ioi Abelard's view of the omnipotence and prescience of God is here presented very briefly to show a certain type of reasoning that stems from a conviction of the 'realistic character* of logic. Against the background of certain established factors - God's immutability, omnipotence, etc. - it is only necessary to deduce in the correct manner to be certain of arriving at a correct result. We are concerned here with a far more direct use of dialectic than in the doctrine of the Trinity, and it is associated with the fact that the question here is God's relationship, not to Himself but to the world. The concepts of God used here are related at the outset to something we know; power, knowledge, etcetera. It is therefore only necessary to postulate these concepts to their absolute maximum and then to draw the logical conclusions. Abelard never succeeded in finishing his main work. Theologia exists in three books, of which the first two discuss the doctrine of the Trinity and the last the questions just referred to, with a few others of the same nature.41 From other writings, in particular the Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans and the Ethics, we can only to a very limited extent form an impression of what might have been contained in the two missing main sections: on 'The Divine Benefaction' (Christ and His Works) and 'The Divine Institutions' (particularly the Sacraments). In the Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans there is a paragraph on the Atonement, which may be taken as a study for the corresponding section in Theologia. Abelard poses the question: What is meant by our atonement through the death of Christ? The doctrine of the atonement had not been canonically established in the same manner as the doctrine of the Trinity for example, but it may be said that a definite line in clerical tradition was prevalent. Since the time of the primitive Church, great weight had been given to the part played by the Devil. It was generally asserted - following Gregory the Great, whose influence in this field as in so many others was very considerable in the Middle Ages - that the Devil, through sin, had obtained some kind of right over man. When he believed that he could also gain the upper hand over Jesus he was defeated. When he profaned the pure soul of Jesus, which he could not secure, he lost his right over man. This strange theory

102 /Peter Abelard had been opposed before Abelard's time by Anselm of Canterbury, who elaborated a new doctrine of atonement, the so-called doctrine of satisfaction or doctrine of objective atonement. But Abelard, in his criticism of the traditional doctrine as well as in the suggestion he puts in its place, appears to have been completely unaffected by Anselm. To Abelard, the idea of the Devil's right appears quite absurd. The tempter who entices away another person's servant does not thereby secure any right over him. The only kind of right the Devil may have had could only have been as God's jailer or executioner! But, Abelard says, it would be easy for God to forgive man his sins, and the executioner would then have no right. But then the question remains: If it were easy for God to have freed man from the Devil, why had the Son of God to take upon Himself all the suffering and humiliation He had to endure? How can Paul believe that we are justified through His death, for it is easier to believe that God would be the more angry with man, who killed Him? Can it be that His innocent death could have pleased God the Father so much that He was thereby reconciled with us who, through our sin, were guilty of His death? While Anselm sees Jesus' suffering as a reparation for the revolt against God (which assails His honour), so settling the score, it is impossible for Abelard to propound any settlement: 'But however cruel and unjust it may appear that one person should demand as payment the blood of an innocent person, or that it should in any way please him that an innocent person is killed, how much less would God find pleasure in the death of His Son in order that He might thereby be reconciled with the world?'*2 As an alternative to this conception, Abelard advances the idea that the atonement is the revelation of God's love expressed in the fact that Christ became man, taught us by His word and example and persevered unto death. By proclaiming this act, or rather by faith in Christ, love of God Who first loved us is awakened in our hearts so that we are freed from the power of sin and the Devil: 'Our redemption is therefore this greatest love in us through Christ's suffering, the love which not only delivers us from the bondage of sin but gains for us the true freedom of God's children, so that we, rather through love of Him than fear, fulfil all; He Who has shown us such great

AbelarcTs Thought /i 03 mercy that none greater exists, as He himself witnessed: "Greater love, He says, hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends/''4S For Abelard, therefore, Redemption is the proclamation of God's love in Jesus' life and death as a transforming power through faith. Unfortunately he never succeeded in writing a detailed account of this doctrine of atonement, but on the basis of what we have it is possible to draw conclusions that are characteristic of Abelard's thought. Abelard begins by asking: by what necessity did the Son of God become man in order to redeem us? We have seen that, unlike Anselm, he has no wish to answer this question by treating Christ's work as a logical necessity; in his opinion, God could have forgiven sin without difficulty. Nevertheless, Abelard does not seriously consider other possibilities, and this probably stems from his belief that God always does precisely what is appropriate to Him. Abelard therefore acknowledges the factual necessity: this was how it happened and we must accept it. But he must then try to understand the redemption in a manner not involving the logical necessity. One might also say that the possibility he himself refers to - that God could have forgiven without difficulty - gives him a clue that the content of the actual redemption through the blood of Christ must include the same elements as a hypothetical redemption through the forgiving Word alone. Abelard is therefore not really interested in the concept of substitute suffering, which became a main point in Ansehn's doctrine of atonement, as this concept was of course associated with that very method, that is to say with Christ's death upon the cross. But if the redemption is to correspond to the imagined possibility - redemption through the Word - the emphasis cannot be on some form of payment or any other external thing, but must lie in something spiritual. In this way Abelard arrives at the conclusion that the decisive factor must be the revelation of God's love. This is not the place to discuss the theological consequences of this doctrine in a wider context; it appears in Abelard's writings only as a first draft, which must be read primarily in contrast to tradition's preoccupation with the rights of the Devil. This in itself is an impressive independent effort of thought. There is no reason to assume that Abelard would have changed

104/Peter Abelard his mind if he had had time to write on the atonement in Theologia, because the fundamental viewpoint - that the redemption must be of a spiritual nature - is closely akin to his basic thought on ethics as developed in the strange little book bearing the title Ethica or Sctto te ipsum; that is, 'Know thyself. This is perhaps the most original of Abelard's works. Here he consistently puts forward the conception we have encountered earlier in Heloise's letters: the goodness or wickedness of our actions is dependent upon the intention alone. One must face the fact that this led him into opinions that in no way coincided with the average view of morality! This may be illustrated by a few examples. Abelard asserts that sin consists solely in consenting to the contempt of God, and shows itself in that we do not do for His sake what we believe we should do, or in that we do not abstain from doing what we think we should abstain from for His sake.44 This he compares with the objection of others that an evil will is also sin. In this connection, Abelard understands them to mean, by 'will', lust and desire. He refutes the objection, saying that when the law orders us not to covet, the meaning is: not to consent to covetousness.45 Others, he says, are disturbed by his assertion that the sinful action does not increase the guilt that is associated with sin. This cannot be right, they say, for the action is associated with a joy which in itself is sinful. Abelard however disputes that the joy associated with intercourse with women or eating a good meal, for example, could in itself be anything sinful. This joy arises of necessity, but as it is necessary to eat and marriage is permissible - indeed plainly commanded in the Old Testament - it is quite unreasonable to believe that the joy which is part of it should be sinful.46 On the whole, the soul cannot be sullied by anything that occurs because of the body, but only by that which occurs to the soul itself; that is to say by consent to what is contempt of God, whether or not it occurs before the act or together with it. On the other hand, we often do things that are not right without thereby sinning, for example when we act under compulsion or from ignorance. It is not necessarily sinful to covet another's wife or to sleep with her (one might be compelled, or deceived into believing that she is one's own wife!), but it is sinful to consent to the desire or the act.47

Abdard's Thought/105 Sin therefore rests with the intention alone. The same action can at different times be good or evil, according to the intention. It is nevertheless important to appreciate that a good intention is not that which considers itself to be good but only that which is good in itself, that is to say in accordance with the will of God; otherwise unbelievers would be able to do good deeds.48 But, as Abelard is of the opinion that ignorance excuses, to come to terms with the unbelievers is a dilemma for him. For example, those who persecuted the martyrs and Christ acted according to their conscience, and for this reason one cannot call their actions sinful; they did what their conscience bade them do.49 An attempt to go further by distinguishing between sin in the actual sense and in a number of metaphorical senses does not help him over the problem. His principle prevents Abelard from calling disbelief sin in the true meaning when it is a consequence of ignorance, and yet he must insist, with Church doctrine, that not to believe in the Gospel leads to perdition.50 He knows no real answer to this question. But in this connection we must remember his interest in the lives and beliefs of the philosophers. As concerns his ethic, the important factor here is that we are confronted with a real attempt in principle to take up a position on the question: what is it that makes our actions good or evil? The discussion in its entirety is on a level far above the moral considerations generally to be found in Church literature of earlier times. Problems were raised here that future generations were obliged to investigate. For the moment however we shall concern ourselves more with the contemporary attitude to Abelard's work. It was first of all his theological works that gave cause for discussion. In philosophy - that is, dialectic - he was generally acknowledged to be the foremost of his period. On the other hand his return to the academic world in 1136 led to his involvement in his last great dispute. It was as if all the forces that had earlier opposed him now gathered with renewed strength. This time traditionalism was able to enlist on its side the most influential personality of the Church in France, perhaps in all Christendom: Bernard of Clairvaux. Before we examine the dispute and its consequences, it will therefore be necessary to take a look at this man.

CHAPTER 6

Bernard of Clairvaux

Bernard was born in 1090, the son of a Burgundian nobleman and a pious mother who died young, but who exercised much influence on his childhood. He had five brothers and one sister, all of whom, including Bernard, ended their lives as religious. When he was twenty-one he decided, following the wishes of his dead mother, to enter a monastery, and in 1112, accompanied by four of his brothers and twenty-five friends, he presented himself at the struggling new foundation of Citeaux. Founded by Robert of Molesme, who had sought in vain to achieve his ideal of 'evangelical perfection' in other houses, Citeaux was then under its third abbot, the Englishman Stephen Harding. In 1112 Citeaux was still an impoverished community with an uncertain future. For the house, the arrival of Bernard's party was decisive, and its phenomenal growth dates from that moment. For Bernard the moment was equally decisive. Most monasteries of the time followed the rule of St Benedict of Nursia who, demanding stabilitas - the obligation that the monk should remain in the house he had joined - from his monks, had effected a threefold division of the day - into the opus Dei (the daily round of the canonical hours), opus manuum (manual labour) and lectio divina (spiritual reading and study). The triple vow of the Benedictine monk was to chastity, poverty and absolute obedience. As a way of life it was disciplined, and of moderate and reasonable asceticism. With the passage of time,

Bernard of Clairvaux/ioy however, it became overlaid with supplementary customs which varied from house to house, and underwent one major alteration with the disappearance from the daily timetable of manual labour in the fields. At the time of the foundation of Citeaux many, though by no means all, Benedictine houses belonged to the congregation of Cluny, in which most attention was given to the performance of an elaborate and much enlarged liturgy. At Citeaux however, as at other foundations of the period, there was a return to the primitive simplicity of the Rule, and indeed to yet earlier exemplars. The Cistercians looked not only to Benedict but also to the Egyptian desert Fathers of the third and fourth centuries, whose way of life was known to them from the descriptions of Gregory the Great, among other sources. Here they found an ideal of life which prescribed not merely a moderate asceticism with the object of preventing satisfaction of the senses from coming to the fore .but demanded an active struggle to obliterate any - even the smallest - physical enjoyment. This was achieved by reducing food to a minimum, depriving it of all flavour by forbidding the use of spices in its preparation, by banning comfortable clothes and by prescribing a hard uncomfortable bed. At Citeaux, physical work once again became the rule, and this in itself was a considerable penance. Prayer, cut to the minimum, at the canonical hours took up about six hours of the day. The remainder of the day was divided between intellectual and physical work. This programme was designed to reproduce what was considered to be the way of life of the early Church. It is easy enough now to decry all this, but it must be remembered that, although the degree of outward asceticism was often the subject of dispute in the twelfth century, asceticism for the Cistercians was not an end in itself. Its object was to create the necessary conditions for the humility that was to free the spirit for a life in God. By this means, however curious and alien it may seem to us, they sought to attain freedom. There is no doubt that Bernard entered wholeheartedly into the struggle that the rule prescribed for him, and there is also no doubt that he found ways to intensify in his own case the already almost inhuman regulations. It is said of him that he was soon in control of his senses to such a degree that he neither saw nor heard in the

io81'Peter Abdard course of his daily life anything irrelevant to the aim he had set himself - evangelical perfection. The intellectual life of the twelfth century has rightly been spoken of as a 'rediscovery of nature* in the fields of both science and poetry, but for all his intellectual gifts it may reasonably be said that Bernard stood wholly apart from this revival. The Order was not satisfied to forbid all personal sensual pleasures in the form of physical enjoyment, but was opposed to the materially beautiful itself. Ornamentation of Cistercian churches was consequently strictly forbidden. All such things were considered to be inimical to the mortification and purification of the flesh; indeed it might be said that anything not directly serving this end was viewed as useless and dangerous. As a consequence, the new Order could of course attach no importance to study, except as an adjunct to the performance of the demands of the Cistercian life. The Bible was read, as were the Fathers and the lives of the saints, but simply as a necessary part of the personal quest for perfection. Knowledge and pursuit of learning which had no connection with this end attracted the same aversion as beauty. But these principles could not prevent individuals within the Order from contributing to the culture of the period. It must not be forgotten that many of its members were highly cultured men who, in spite of their desire to leave behind them everything associated with the world, were unable to deny the culture they had acquired before entering the monastery. When Bernard entered Citeaux, the monastery was in the middle of a crisis. Many of the monks had recently died in an epidemic, and recruits had been deterred from entering the house by the rigour of its life. But from now onward there began a tremendous flowering which in the following years made necessary the foundation of daughter houses. La Ferte and Pontigny were the first two, and in 1115 Bernard was chosen as abbot of the third, Clairvaux. Together with twelve monks, among whom were two of his brothers, he left Citeaux, and for some years he was fully occupied with the organization of the monastery that, because of him, was soon to be famous throughout Europe. The new foundation was initially extremely poor, and it was some years before its lands were able to yield even the little the monks needed. In the course of time, Clairvaux became immensely rich,

Bernard of Clairvaux/log but this had not the slightest effect upon the way of life of the monks. With the increase in wealth, the number of monks and lay brothers also increased, and towards the end of Bernard's life it is said to have reached about 700. In the same period the abbey spread its daughter houses throughout Europe, founding sixty-eight during Bernard's abbacy. This great increase was not of course accidental; throughout his life, Bernard was very active in 'converting' clerics and laymen. As we said earlier, conversion (conversio) was the designation by which the transition from a life in the world to the cloister was characterized. The biographical accounts are full of descriptions of how Bernard on many different occasions returned to Clairvaux with a retinue of the newly converted, who had decided to leave the world after hearing him preach. It was of course inevitable that this kind of event was rumoured far and wide. As a result, many who had never heard or seen Bernard found their way to Clairvaux. Among these were many monks from older orders who felt impelled to choose a stricter rule. But as a consequence the success of the new order became a matter that affected these older Orders; comparisons were of course made between the Cistercians and the other Benedictines. This very soon led to a conflict between the Cistercians and the powerful Cluniac congregation, which had received in 1122 as abbot of Cluny a new and outstanding leader in the person of the famous Peter the Venerable. By the time the new Order had reached a certain degree of dissemination, its interpretation of Benedict's rule came of necessity to be looked upon as a criticism of the black monks, as the other Benedictines were called to distinguish them from the white Cistercians. Very soon, as might be expected, this criticism became so voluble that Peter the Venerable considered it necessary to speak his mind. In a letter quite clearly aimed at Bernard - the principal behind the success of this new Order he accused the Cistercians of Pharisaism and defended in detail the Cluniac interpretation of the rule according to the spirit and not according to the letter, 'which kills'. Bernard, who had not so far taken part directly in the polemics, now wrote his Apologia, in which he severely condemned those Pharisees among the Cistercians who allowed themselves to depreciate the

no/Peter Abelard Cluniacs. But at the same time he succeeded in presenting a destructive criticism of Cluniac practices. He carefully reviewed Cluniac customs in relation to meals and clothing, and their way of life in general. He sharply rejected their artistic interests as unworthy of monks, who should flee from all luxury. In spite of his anxiety to show respect for the older Order, Bernard cannot hide the fact that he finds many grave faults in their way of life. Although Peter the Venerable very soon initiated extensive reforms within his congregation, striving for greater simplicity in the Cluniac way of life, the differences were and remained great, and a certain bitterness which flared up from time to time into real hostility was long prevalent between the two Orders. At Cluny, an ascetic austerity in food and clothing was not considered necessary for nor appropriate to true monastic life. For example, it is characteristic of the difference between them that Peter, in contrast to Bernard, lavished much care on the physical health of his monks. In the matter of work, within the Cistercian Order the whole emphasis was on physical work, whereas this was an exception with the Cluniacs, who put liturgical and artistic activities above all else. The spirit was so different in the two places that conflict was inevitable. Bernard's zeal for very strict monastic discipline not only determined his outward activity but eventually led to the destruction of his health. After a very few years he was so prostrated that it became necessary, to save his life, to relieve him of the leadership of the monastery completely for one year. He never wholly recovered, but suffered until his death from digestive complaints. But he succeeded in using this also as an element of mortification, and in later life the illness appears to have been unable to prevent his unceasing work. About 1130, Bernard was able to write,' the world is full of monks!' By saying this, he was not only calling attention to the fact but voicing a jubilant declaration that a vital endeavour had succeeded in progressing. It was certainly his aim to rob the world of as many souls as possible, and he used all means to this end: encouragement, warnings, threats and reproaches. As we have said, he made no attempt to conceal that, for him, the Cistercian Order, since it was the Order that made the greatest effort towards perfection, took first place. He therefore always permitted trans-

Bernard of Clairvaux/111 f ers from other Orders to his own, although in principle he was opposed to any breach of stability. But such cases, he believed, were new 'conversions' to a life of still greater humility. However, he recruited by far the greater number of his novices directly from 'the world'. But although he gave his own Order pride of place he was fully aware that its demands lay at the limit of human endurance. His level-headedness was such that he not only sought to obtain new supporters for the Order but did all he could to promote reform within the other Orders. There is only space here to refer to the most important aspects of his activity in very general terms. During the nzos his reputation was greatly enhanced by the miraculous cures he was reported to have performed. A large number of Benedictine monasteries were reformed during this period, and in many cases Bernard had a finger in the pie. He was equally active with the canonical clergy. In cathedral churches and many other great churches there were a varying number of canonical offices. The holders of these offices could either live as secular canons, independently of one another, each on his own prebend, or as 'regular' canons; that is to say, subject to a rule in a communal life reminiscent of a monastery. As might be expected, Bernard worked eagerly to promote the regular life among canons, and among these there were two Orders in particular which enjoyed his favour because of their relative austerity of life: the Victorines and the Premonstratensians. In those places where he did not succeed in establishing a regular way of life, he sought to exercise his influence upon the clergy by persuading them to give up all luxuries. He also tried to influence bishops and other clerical dignitaries, and a number of bishops were 'converted' through his efforts. In many instances his ideals also caused him to turn on the great secular nobles of the period to warn them or threaten them if for one or another political reason they pursued aims that, in Bernard's opinion, stood in the way of his reformative work. In other words, he entered into Church politics on a large scale. He did not hesitate to call upon the secular power when he thought it could support reform with other and more tangible arguments, after his own had proved ineffective. He very soon came into contact with the ruling prince in whose lands Clairvaux lay, the powerful and pious

112/Peter Abelard Count Theobald of Champagne, and exercised considerable influence over him. But he also had the effrontery to direct even the most powerful: both the Pope and the King of France found themselves receiving instructions from him. It is easy for later generations to see that as early as the inos Bernard possessed considerable political influence, and that in the following years he attained an unparalleled position. But his contemporaries also were well aware of this. It was asked: by what right did an ordinary abbot delude himself into believing that it was his duty to guide the Church in all France? How could he allow himself to interfere in the affairs of bishops and princes; indeed even in those of the Pope and Curia? To Bernard, the answer was quite simple. He spoke in the name of reform. 'Nothing of what concerns God is alien to me/ he wrote to a cardinal. God's business was always his business; this was how he saw it. On the basis of this awareness, he saw himself as forced to interfere incessantly, entreating or castigating, warning or threatening. Whether writing to a father and mother who tried to prevent their son from entering Clairvaux or to a prince who prevented the introduction of regular canons at a cathedral, it was the cause of reform that drove him on, and in his eyes this was always the business of God. This conviction turned him into a terrible enemy; he was motivated by a cause about whose greatness he could entertain no doubt. This made his indignation against all enemies of reform quite uncontrollable, irrespective of the importance of the matter. When in his letters he hurled curses against the blasphemous, showing no consideration for the individual's reputation, he was in the power of the same passion as had tortured his body and was continually devouring his soul. This man, who had said of the love of God that it was without limit (sine mensura), also recognized no limits whatever in his wrath against those who were opposed to God's - and his - cause. It is true that he sometimes encountered criticism for his interference in everything that concerned the Church - on one occasion he even had to accept an unequivocal reprimand from the Curia in Rome - but in the long run neither institutions nor individuals appear to have been able to withstand the enormous power that flowed from him. Praised for his saintly life, admired for his miracles, loved

Bernard of Clairvaux/113 for his zeal, this monk reigned from his monastery over Christendom and its spiritual and worldly rulers. This became notably apparent from 1130 onwards. Until then Bernard had been mostly concerned with the cause of reform in France itself, but from now on he was thrown into high politics. In 1130 Pope Honorius II died, and in the election of his successor divisions within the body of cardinals produced two rival popes. In both cases the election was carried out in a manner contrary to the canonical regulations. A minority of cardinals under the protection of the Frangipani appointed Innocent II, but the remaining cardinals would not submit to this coup and elected instead Peter Leonis (the leader of the most powerful of the local families, the Pierleoni) who adopted the name of Anacletus II. The question now was: whom should Christianity acknowledge as the true pope? Anacletus soon gained the upper hand in Rome and Italy, and Innocent fled to France. As a result of Bernard's intervention, a council in which the king and the great nobles took part gathered around Innocent. The Pope's cause now became Bernard's most important task in the following years. With his usual energy and zeal he took it upon himself to bring the schism to an end. On three occasions, in 1132, 1134-35 an(i 1137~38> he was in Italy, and he also travelled to Germany as a member of the Pope's retinue. His participation in high politics did not prevent his continuing the pursuit of his true goal; from Germany and from Italy he brought home parties of the converted to Clairvaux. Similarly, his presence in those countries naturally promoted the cause of the Order by the foundation of new monasteries. It is clear that during these years he became closely attached to the pope for whose legitimacy he was fighting so actively and so successfully. In 1138, after the death of Anacletus II, Bernard was instrumental in overcoming the last resistance to Innocent in Italy to such good effect that it was possible for Innocent to take up permanent residence in Rome with an easy mind. Bernard did not return home empty-handed; the Pope's deep gratitude and boundless confidence went with him. He was soon to need both in his fight against Abelard! So it came about that the very man who had, with greater force than any before him, called the intellectual elite of his

H4/Peter Abelard time to leave the world for a life of poverty and seclusion, began to encroach upon the affairs of the world in many ways. Politics and social morality, science and art, economics and Church leadership, in short all the important areas of social life, became the objects of his activity. But in all this he was still working towards one and the same goal. Bernard was sensible of no contradiction between this versatile activity and the goal he had striven for since his young days in the monastery: to experience true reality in God's presence. He had found the criterion for all he undertook in his lonely cloister cell. He was unable to consider the various fields of intellectual and social life as having more or less their own independent validity, as we would naturally do. He had no * interest' in science and art as 'worldly' means of expression. Indeed, he had no such 'interests' at all; on the contrary, he found it outrageous to have any. He therefore never considered his standpoint in any matter as being simply a reasonable alternative to the concept he was fighting against, but as 'truth' in opposition to a falsification of life. When he became involved in a theological dispute, it was for him not a question of putting forward a better idea but of fighting as a 'defender of the Faith' against the enemies of Christ. Bernard concerned himself with the spiritual life as he had personally experienced it, even on occasions when, in a more worldly fashion, he pulled strings to have an episcopal seat filled by his nominee. In our eyes, he allowed himself to become involved in many matters not directly within the field of 'religion'. In his eyes, it was the life of solitude in the monastery, of prayer and meditation, that made him aware of the full claims of 'religion', and hence made him encroach upon the life of the world. His life therefore became an incessant double movement: from the silence of monastic life with the brothers at Clairvaux, to action outside, and then back again. In all he undertook his final goal was ever to urge others to undergo the experience that to him was life itself, the unity of love in God. Poverty and solitude in short, that asceticism which alone can create the abstraction from the world that is the essence of humility - he believed to be the absolute prerequisites for this unity. As a consequence, everything that to his mind stood in the way of this reformed life of the body and the spirit had to be pushed aside, but in the

Bernard of Clairvcwx/115 way he went about this he often displayed very little forbearance. Before we attempt to assess Bernard's purpose and the efforts he made to promote it, we must take a closer look at the basic viewpoint that characterized everything he did. If he is judged solely on the basis of his outward activities, we run the risk of making the task far too easy for ourselves. To any follower of present day cultural prophets, it would be very simple on the basis of the foregoing to categorize him. But it would be wrong to believe that his life and activity can be rejected as an expression of 'dickstc Monchdummheit', as Schiller wrote to Goethe. On the contrary, his thought is of a rare compactness and consistency. This is not to imply that he is systematic; Bernard produced no philosophical and theological systems in his treatises. By far the greater part of his not very numerous nor comprehensive writings, if lumped together in the old-fashioned way, would probably be classified as 'devotional works'. They are in part sermons given at Clairvaux, including the famous series on the Song of Songs, and in part lesser treatises, almost all concerned with monastic life and often written on request. But in these scattered works -which incidentally can and should be supplemented by his numerous letters, many of which are small treatises in themselves - there is a line of thought which careful reading brings out very clearly. It can be difficult to read him, for unlike the scholastics he has no defined philosophical terminology, but he makes use of a richly varied imagery. He is a distinguished stylist who, as Etienne Gilson, the French historian of the Middle Ages, has pointed out, left it too late in dissociating himself from worldly culture. He was already deeply influenced by classical literature and, when he left the world and its ways behind him, he could not prevent Cicero from slipping in through the monastery gate with him. It should be made cl:lea e r that Bernard's profane culture was mainly of a literary character. He had almost no knowledge of the philosophers, Plato and Aristotle. In his eyes they were no more than sophists, and he considered their influence upon higher education to be decidedly harmful. Bernard's theology must be regarded as a meditation upon the mystical experience, and for this he had to look for inspiration to quite different sources. The

n6/Peter Abdard old accounts of the lives of the Egyptian monastic Fathers were very important, as were also various Christian authors of late Antiquity such as Maximus Confessor (580-662) and John Cassian (c. 360-430/35). In general, it is characteristic of Bernard's attitude that all the elements in his thought are traditional, although the synthesis claims to be original. All theological 'novelties' were an abomination to him. The doctrine had been established and expressed conclusively in the thought of the Church Fathers, above all Augustine. For Bernard, it was only a matter of finding a way of expressing the realization of this in the life of the individual. The monastic tradition itself gave him clear directions: the path of humility is the only road to the love of God, the only true love. His theology is a way of thought along these lines, formalized by an outstanding intellect and undergone as a personal religious experience. But why, for Bernard, is love of God the only true love? Because it springs from the knowledge of God, which for its part is necessary to man's full knowledge of himself. By seeking to know himself, man becomes aware of his own dignity, of the free will which raises him above the beasts and sets him in a position to rule over them. But, Bernard believes, this knowledge leads us astray if it is not followed by something more. 'It is therefore necessary that you know both things: what you are and what you are not in your own right/ If man does not recognize his dignity, he has none, and he can be considered as no more than a beast. But if he recognizes his dignity without realizing from whence it came it becomes a false dignity. Knowledge of God therefore belongs to true self-knowledge, and from this follows, as already indicated, the demand to love God as the source of the dignity of man. In Bernard's opinion, every person can and should realize all this for himself. Love of God - total love - is for him simply the normal condition of man from which he has been displaced by the Fall. This whole sequence of thought is of course well known in Church tradition. Augustine also had strongly insisted that knowledge of God and of oneself are two sides of the same coin. Before continuing, it is perhaps appropriate to point out here that it was this sequence of thought, originally found in Augustine's Confessions, which

Bernard of Clairvaux/117 shattered the unity of intellectual and rational assumptions that characterized the world of Antiquity. If man's actual being depends entirely upon his relationship to God (that is to say, the infinite; that which does not allow itself to be dominated by and subordinated to the reason of man), then man is no longer the supreme rational being who is only impeded to some small extent by a few sensual desires. Man is in fact only on the verge of freedom, and it is here, in this borderland of what we would now call the conscious and subconscious, that he discovers the essential contradiction in his being, and comes up against the basic problems of his nature and existence. A whole system of psychology owes its existence to these Christian writers; a psychology that tries to penetrate the secret of man's essence, a secret that consists not only in man's relationship to his habits and desires but to his own self. In this matter of the interdependence of God-knowledge and self-knowledge, the 'inactuality' of man becomes evident, but at the same time history, the category of time, emerges as the decisive human dimension. In his encounter with the infinite, man becomes conscious of his purpose and destiny, and in consequence he finds or fails to find in this encounter his 'actuality*. It may well be said that the perspectives of this problem have determined our cultural and intellectual environment since that time, not only within the framework of the Church but in a system of cognition, of selfawareness and examination, that retains its character even where all reference to God has become stilled. This is clearly to be seen in much modern literature; in this respect, an author such as Albert Camus is the genuine heir to Augustine and Bernard. In the case of Bernard also, this sequence of thought leads to a psychological penetration in depth that has preserved its quality to a surprising extent. Although love of God is of a purely spiritual nature, Bernard finds that it begins with a love of the 'flesh'. Man is bound to his physical needs, and he cannot look beyond this until he reaches adulthood. This is natural and right, but since the Fall it has become a serious obstacle. Man is now motivated by desire, cupiditas, which is a corruption of nature. As a consequence, all values have been inverted. But even in this condition there is something that reminds us of

118/'Peter Abdard man's noble nature: desire never rests, because man, God's creation, can rest only in the possession of the eternally good. From likeness to God to unlikeness, from paradise to hell, from God to the Devil, this is man's situation. The question now is whether this is incurable. To answer this, Bernard explains man's original circumstances in more detail: man created in the image of God. He sees the God-image as notably evident in human will; that is to say, freedom. According to Bernard, man retains freedom in the sense of voluntariness; that is, it is part of the inalienable nature of the will that it cannot be forced to consent to or to reject an act. It is in this freedom that the nobility of man consists. On the other hand, man has lost the true likeness to God that consists of the ability to choose between good and evil, as well as in the strength to do what he has chosen to do. Through sin, will has become wilfulness, which is no more than intellectual ruin - man's desire to follow his own purpose, consilium proprium. Man is consequently led into finding pleasure in himself and his own righteousness instead of in God and his righteousness. Consilium proprium is therefore idolatry in the final analysis: man's adoration of himself in revolt against God. Bernard sees in this the origin of evil; by preferring himself to God, reason has perverted man's ability to find pleasure only in the good, and has led his will astray. But by losing his likeness to God - and this is the link that leads back to the starting point - man has also lost his likeness to himself. The question then remains: how can likeness to God be recovered? In this way Bernard arrives at a point that leads directly to the monastic life: it is first necessary for self-will to die. This however has its origin in consilium proprium; consequently reason must first submit itself to truth, which is to be found in Faith. Reason being in this way clarified, consilium proprium is eliminated so that the will can once more open itself to love, and likeness to God can - little by little - radiate from the soul. It is a long road, but the remedy is sure. Bernard does not conceal that it is best followed in the monasteries, and among these best of all in the Cistercian Order. Let us now look at this road. To the Cistercians it was concerned with the re-creation of the Christian life following the

Bernard of Clairvaux/119 Benedictine rule. This is to be learned in the monastic school, which is deliberately contrasted with the contemporary schools in the cathedral towns. The object here is not to learn in order to know - in Bernard's eyes this was precisely Abelard's mistake, as we shall see - but salvation, that is to say the acquisition of that love which is the pre-condition of the true Christian life. The knowledge that leads to this is not that of the philosophers but that taught in the School of Christ. It is a matter of learning the most important of all the 'arts': how to live. The master is Christ Himself, whose 'subject' is love itself, but there are also other masters: fear of God, respect for the rule and a life of penitence. The monastery is the school of love. The first step along the road is to realize one's unlikeness to God and to act accordingly. This is why the Cistercians begin by killing false love by hard asceticism; this is the price of the freedom that must be won. Life does not consist of asceticism, but it is a necessary condition for that asceticism of thought which is the object in view. To learn to know oneself is now to recognize oneself as a fallen sinner; that is to say, to learn humility, fwmilitas. Humility leads to love of those who condemn their wretchedness, who judge themselves as God judges them, and who, to prove this, punish themselves by mortifying the flesh. In this way they have unified their will with God's will, and it becomes revealed that even humility is love. But this is only the feeble beginning. To know oneself is to know the truth, also concerning one's neighbour. This is not to say that the monk is to pass judgement on him; on the contrary, he is in this way awakened to suffer with his neighbour. This is manifested in the charity the Order stresses. Much of Bernard's indignation against rich monasteries arises from their use to buy ornaments, etcetera of money which might have been given to the poor. Man has a right only to what is absolutely necessary to sustain the body. But the monk, in realizing this, renounces his self-will and discovers the 'common will', voluntas communis, which is love. As yet, however, only a 'physical' love is concerned, which is expressed as a will towards social justice. What is more important is that the extension of self-knowledge to cover everyone also implies that Jesus comes into view. This new 'physical' love is also concerned with Jesus as a man. In

120 / Peter Abelard Bernard's mysticism, this is the point for meditation upon Jesus' earthly life. Because of man's limitation to what is sensible, love of the Saviour also begins with love of the flesh, that is to say the contemplation of His person, life, death and resurrection. Slowly now the love begins to grow that prepares man for full unity with the will of God, the experience that Bernard in the language of the hymn refers to as 'the bridegroom's visit'. Through continuous mortification and meditation on the person of Jesus, the nature of the soul is purified and converted; that is to say love, which signifies the freeing of the will from the slavery of sin, increasingly takes shape in the soul so that the original likeness to God comes into view. Instead of laying down his own law, man is now free and is spontaneously subjected to God's law, which is the Holy Spirit, the mutual love of the Father and the Son. Humility through contemplation of Jesus' earthly life is the first stage, purification through love is the second. The third and last stage is the union with God in His divine sublimity. This comes to pass through what Bernard refers to as raptus or excessus, the ecstatic experience, 'the bridegroom's kiss'. In this union of the soul with God, the contrast between love of God and self-love has disappeared. When likeness to God has been re-created, to love oneself is the same as loving this likeness to God, and consists in the very love of God for God's own sake. Consequently, in the same way as the love God has for us is nothing other than the love He has for Himself, so is the love we have for ourselves nothing other than the love we have for God. On this basis it becomes comprehensible that the life of love is all an endeavour towards the mystical union with God: it is indeed the likeness to God that we love in ourselves, and similarly this is what God loves in us. Therefore, the likeness must include the longing for unity with God. Viewed in this light, mysticism in Bernard's view is not confined to a special personal experience but is the goal of the complete Christian life as translated into action in the cloister. Bernard's mysticism is devoid of all pantheism. Any thought of substantial integration between God and the soul is excluded. Bernard certainly speaks of 'making divine' the soul, but he means by this a conformity of wills, not a fusing together of them. If one objects that the elimination of man's self-will leads

Bernard of Clairvtmx/121 to the negation of man's self, Bernard can easily refute such an accusation. The contrary is in fact the case; it is precisely through the abolition of self-will that man regains his true nature, which is to be like unto God in the unity of love. Therefore, the more the will of man conforms to that of God, the more he becomes himself. It might be said, then, that man's awareness of the image of God in man is at the centre of Bernard's theology. The description of man's way out of perversion and back to God, that is to say to love, is a description of how man becomes once again what he was destined to be. Mysticism, the individual concentration on the contemplation of God, is therefore not in principle a particular vocation for a specially selected few, although it may well have been so in practice and often still is. Bernard himself fully realizes that what he considers to be pure 'disinterested' love can never become an enduring condition, but is reserved for select moments of ecstasy. He therefore does not become a quietist; the demands of active life have their necessary place also. Whatever we may think of this, we are forced to admit that it is consistently thought out from beginning to end. This line of thought also explains why Bernard was forced to react vehemently against all intellectual activity that appeared to him to lead away from the path of love, even if only by not furthering the journey along it. Therefore, all his meddling in matters outside the monastery walls sprang not from any independent interest on his part but rather from a fear that these matters might take on an independent significance for others, and thereby create obstacles to 'the one thing necessary'. Bernard's 'cultural policy' is therefore quite unequivocal, and there is no need for him to argue step by step since everything is predetermined. It would of course be foolish to assess this on the basis of our secularized conception of culture. Anything of that nature was in any case forbidden in the times he lived in. But although the truth and universal dominance of the Christian revelation was accepted even among philosophers and artists, this did not mean that Bernard's conception of the Christian life was the only conceivable one. In practice, of course, this was certainly not so; ambition and vanity are no modern inventions. But in theory also the same was true; it was in fact in Bernard's

122/Peter Abelard own lifetime that a humanistic absorption with man and his world broke through traditional attitudes. This was not looked upon as an enemy of Christianity, which indeed it was not, but it stood in striking contrast to the attitude of Bernard and his associates in the reform movement, and it was in this way that he came to represent traditionalism in the struggle against the new thought. But it is proof of the enormous forces contained in the monastic movement of the Western world that the same monks who defended themselves by summoning up all the courage of the old authorities against what they considered to be 'perverse novelties' were able to give new strength and direction to monasticism through their efforts for reform. Of these monks, Bernard was the greatest. In his thought, tradition was converted into an original achievement that provided inspiration for generations to come. It is part of the greatness of this work that Bernard, by his - in principle - anti-humanistic thought, contributed to the acquisition of new knowledge for the Europe whose progress he sought to arrest. His penetrating analyses contributed appreciably to the unceasing new formulations of the old question: what is man? Although Bernard's conception of Christianity clarifies his views on culture and politics, it does not of course provide an excuse for all his acts. Apart from this, questions might well be asked concerning his conception of the Christian life: is it a conception of the Christian life at all? Were the ideals and practices of the Cistercian Order a fulfilment of the life of the first Church? What has been said in this chapter will not provide an answer, and much of any answer that is provided will depend upon our assessment of the contest about to be described. It was our intention here to explain as far as possible Bernard's attitude and motives. He will have need of all the understanding he can call upon!

CHAPTER 7

The Attack

It is easy to imagine the happiness Abelard would have found when he resumed teaching in Paris in 1136. After all the years of disappointment and adversity he was once more in his true element. What triumph he must have enjoyed to find he still possessed the old power over his listeners! The great influx to his lectures would have revived the transcription of his books. Arising from the reports of the happenings in Paris, these books would have undergone a renaissance also in the distant parts of the country, indeed far beyond the frontiers of France. It is possible that the Theologia, or at any rate part of it, was written at the Paraclete as early as the beginning of the 11205, but in any case it was the furore surrounding Abelard's resumed teaching that first gave it a real circulation. It would otherwise be incomprehensible that before this time the work should have caused no anxiety among the more traditionally minded.1 John of Salisbury, to whom we are indebted for the information that it was in 1136 that Abelard returned to Paris, tells that he soon left again.2 We are unable to follow his movements in the following years, but there is reason to believe that he was not absent for long. The whole sequence of events that led to the Synod of Sens and Abelard's condemnation in 1140 would have no explanation if we did not assume that he continued his teaching activities. This of course is not to suggest that there were no intervals. In any event, it is certain that he occupied a

124/Peter Abelard dominant position in the academic world, and particularly in Paris, in the years after 1136. But he was not allowed to enjoy this new triumph for long. A copy of his Tkeologia travelled as far as the remote Cistercian monastery of Signy, where it came into the hands of the former Benedictine abbot and Bernard's close friend, William of St Thierry. His curiosity was aroused by the strange title, and he immersed himself in the reading of the book. The contents horrified him, and he immediately set about writing a treatise directed against Abelard.8 This he sent with a letter to Bernard and to the papal legate in France, Bishop Geoffrey of Chartres.4 We do not know precisely when this letter was written, but from Bernard's reply it appears that Easter was approaching. We must assume from this that Bernard's letter was written early in the year. As Bernard had returned home in 1138 after a very long absence abroad, there is reason to believe that William approached him at the beginning of H39.5 We have no information of Geoffrey of Chartres' reaction to this approach, but we do know that Bernard was prepared thoroughly to investigate the matter. In this way arose the situation that was soon to develop into a bitter struggle between him and Abelard. But before we go on to follow the events, let us examine the degree to which the conflicting parties knew each other at this time. In the account of his period at the Paraclete in the nzos, Abelard writes that his old rivals now succeeded in stirring up against him some new apostles of great importance in the eyes of the world. Of these he writes:'... one of them was conceited enough to assert that he had aroused the regular canons, the other the monks, to new life/6 It is generally agreed that the 'apostles' he had in mind were Norbert of Xanten, the founder of the Premonstratensian congregation, and Bernard of Clairvaux. In Norbert's case there is scarcely any doubt.7 Bernard's activity in the restoration of monastic discipline was so well known and, incidentally, without parallel at the time that he is naturally taken to be the other.8 If this is correct, Abelard had recognized Bernard as a threat even while still at the Paraclete. In his treatise On Baptism, written in about 1125, Bernard replies to some questions concerning the views of a master whose identity he says he does not know.9 The teaching of this man,

The Attack/125 whom Bernard opposes very strongly, is to the effect that ignorance excuses all sin. This viewpoint is quoted in a manner corresponding precisely to Abelard's teaching in the Ethica; if he is not the person aimed at, it must be one of his disciples. There is some reason to believe that this treatise of Bernard's was the cause of Abelard's fear of him, but it is impossible to be certain about this. Another connection between the two parties concerns the Paraclete after it was taken over by Heloi'se. A letter from Abelard to Bernard shows that the latter, at the request of Heloise, had paid a visit to the Paraclete, where he had been satisfied with all he saw except for one liturgical detail, of which Abelard was the originator. The letter is quite friendly, but on the facts of the matter Abelard defends himself without giving an inch.10 This consequently gives us no indication of the relationship between them. It might perhaps be said that the visit to Heloi'se must presuppose a good relationship, since she would scarcely receive a man who harboured hostile feelings towards Abelard.11 On the other hand, it is equally possible that the invitation to Bernard was seen as a purely tactical move - a wish to offer him an opportunity to convince himself that all was according to rule. It is impossible in all this to go beyond supposition. Only one thing is certain: on January 20, 1131, both Abelard and Bernard were staying at the monastery of Morigny on the occasion of the visit of Pope Innocent II. Abelard had presented himself to request that a papal legate be sent to his monastery with a view to its reform.12 As Bernard belonged to the close circle around the Pope, he would have come to know Abelard personally on this occasion, even if he had not met him earlier. It is therefore at least certain they were acquainted. Nor can there be any doubt that Bernard would have heard of Abelard's resumed activity in Paris after 1136, but it is of course possible that he had no detailed information about it. He was, indeed, resident in Italy for long periods up to the end of 1138 in connection with the Roman schism. In his letter to Bernard and Geoffrey of Chartres, William of St Thierry says that he had loved Abelard. If this is not empty rhetoric, it must be a reference to an earlier friendship, and }. M. Dechanet has examined this question in an article. On the

126 /Peter Abdard basis of the chronology in the lives of the two men, he arrives at the conclusion that the friendship must belong to a period around 1112 or 1113 when they were both studying under Anselm of Laon. Dechanet sets out to prove that there was in fact a student relationship between William and Abelard during that period. Various features distinguishing William from his friends, for example Bernard, he seeks to trace back to Abelard's influence. There is, in fact, no certainty here either, but Dechanet has at least shown it to be probable that the two men knew one another.18 Finally, in the case of Geoffrey of Chartres, his feelings towards Abelard had long been friendly. It was he who at the Council of Soissons had tried in vain to save him from an unjust conviction. Meanwhile however he had become a friend of Bernard. But this is scarcely a good reason for William to send his letter and thesis to Geoffrey also, who was at the time the papal legate in France, and therefore in any event the representative of the highest Church authority. William says in his letter that he has chosen to approach Bernard and Geoffrey precisely because Abelard would fear them. It is possible that he had Geoffrey in mind particularly because of his official position, even though Bernard's reputation - no less than his influence could well make him a formidable opponent. William's letter goes straight to the point, in very disturbed language. The faith is in danger, and as all others are silent he will speak. He is deeply sad, but even so it must be said: Peter Abelard once again teaches and writes about new things. His books are widely broadcast, even beyond the Alps. They are held in esteem even by the Curia in Rome. Action must therefore be taken for the sake of the Church. William says he came upon Abelard's Theologia by accident, because the title made him curious. He then adds: '...but there were two books whose contents were almost the same, except that there was rather more in the one and rather less in the other/ While he was reading, he made notes which he encloses - that is, the treatise directed against Abelard. To give more emphasis to the danger of these books, which are full of 'new things' - unheard of opinions invented by Abelard himself - William points out that all the old masters are dead, and teaching is left almost to

The Attack/127 Abelard alone. In other words: there is no one there to stop him.14 In this letter, we already come across some of the points that, in the later struggle, Abelard's opponents used against him with decisive effect First, the emphasis on the fact that he taught 'new things'. The matter-of-course way this is produced as a proof of guilt is a very characteristic feature of their attitude. It is not merely a manifestation of reluctance to see established positions disputed, nor simply a matter of that normal torpidity which can at any time arouse aversion to what is new; we should not be too hasty in acquitting our own times of this, relegating it entirely to a comfortably remote past. It is of course possible that such motives may have played their part, but first and foremost a point of principle was concerned: quite simply, the Fathers, that is to say the approved orthodox tradition, had said all that was necessary. To introduce new presentations of problems is therefore the same as being on the way to heresy. The onlooker might well say that Church traditionalism hated anyone who was not an imitator; the original is suspicious in itself. It is weighty proof of the extent and strength of this attitude that so much stress was laid upon the fact that Abelard taught new things. The other point which there is reason to underline in the letter is of a more practical nature: the emphasis on Abelard's wide influence, both oral and written, which can be expected to have the most disastrous consequences for the Church. It is bad enough in itself that he teaches new things, but the worst is that so many listen to him. This consideration takes the matter beyond the purely dogmatic level and directly into ecclesiastical politics. William's letter was accompanied by a refutation of Abelard set out in thirteen points. As a basis, William uses the Theologia and the other book he refers to which is said to have had almost the same content. But he denies any knowledge of Sic et Non and the Ethica. The question is, what other book can he have drawn upon? It is probably the work that Bernard also uses later, bearing the title The Book of the Sentences. It was not written by Abelard but by one of his pupils.15 William's refutation would have given Bernard a good idea of its content, and it

128/Peter Abelard was certainly extensively used by Bernard when he himself later set out to write a treatise directed against Abelard. In his reply to William's appeal, Bernard acknowledges the seriousness of the matter but also admits that he has only had time quickly to run through William's treatise. As he dare not trust his own judgment in such an important matter,16 he suggests that he should meet William after Easter. Finally, he asks William to show understanding of his previous silence in this matter as hitherto he has been ignorant of most of it, indeed of almost all of it.17 Although we have no information about this, it must be assumed that the proposed meeting in fact took place, and that at this meeting Bernard became convinced of the need to intervene. In the first instance he tried to negotiate a settlement through a meeting with Abelard. There is reason to believe that the discussions were carried on in a friendly atmosphere,18 and it is very probable that Abelard was genuinely prepared for peace. The memory of his humiliation at Soissons had burnt deep into his sensitive nature, and he can certainly have had no urge to expose himself once again to an inquisition. We do not know to what extent Abelard submitted to Bernard's demands during this conversation with him,19 but it is conceivable that his pupils felt they were not themselves bound by any subjection on the part of the master, and consequently persisted in the points of view that had horrified Bernard.20 This may have convinced the abbot that more effective measures were necessary, and it was of course a matter not only of stopping Abelard but also of bringing his destructive influence to a halt. Like the politician he was, Bernard therefore set out to take counter-measures. This he did in various ways. According to Abelard, Bernard first approached the Archbishop of Sens, since the diocese of Paris was part of his ecclesiastical province.21 As this led to nothing, he then approached the Bishop of Paris, Abelard's rightful authority. Bernard probably tried to persuade the bishop to intervene, and he was given permission to preach to the students in Paris himself. It appears that the bishop was reluctant to become involved, but by giving permission to Bernard to preach he was taking the side of Bernard, who was certainly able to make good use of the opportunity

The Attack/129 offered. His sermon contains a remarkably sharp attack on Abelard, for although he mentions no names, there could have been no doubt at whom he was aiming.22 This can have had no good effect upon his relations with Abelard; it was an undisguised attempt to take his students away from him - a frontal attack upon his reputation and honour as a master. However reasonable this action may have been from Bernard's viewpoint, it is not surprising that, instead of causing Abelard to retract or correct his teaching, it gave him other matters to consider. It was probably at about the time of these events that he published the fourth edition of the Theologia, in which he takes some notice of William's criticism, although persisting in his teaching in all its essentials.23 It was perhaps the knowledge of this which caused Bernard to take the final step: an approach to Rome. In spite of a certain amount of sympathy from the Bishop of Paris, his efforts had so far shown no progress. An additional reason to approach the pope and the cardinals may also have been his and William's unease that Abelard might have friends and influence at Rome also. With this begins the flood of letters from Clairvaux to Rome, and with one of these was enclosed Bernard's treatise against Abelard's heresy. A whole series of letters exists whose dates are unfortunately uncertain in many cases. We are therefore reduced to trying to date them on the basis of their contents and in relation to the events whose sequence is known. The following is certain: after Bernard had made his accusation against Abelard to the pope, Abelard, who had probably learned almost immediately of the contents of Bernard's treatise, published the fifth and last edition of the Theologia in which he sets out his views on the treatise, in general adhering to his previous teaching. In addition he persuaded the Archbishop of Sens to arrange a meeting between him and Bernard on June 3, 1140. This meeting, through Bernard's efforts, was transformed into a synod which condemned nineteen of Abelard's propositions. However, the synod did not condemn his person because he appealed from there to Rome. Abelard now prepared to set out for Rome to conduct his own case, but before he got very far the Pope's condemnation supervened. The matter was now concluded; Abelard yielded to the Pope's decision and was reconciled

i^o/Peter Abelard with the Church and with Bernard. Soon after, in 1142, he died. The sequence of events, briefly described here so that we may understand more readily the following account, is full of dramatic details whose relationship one with another we are obliged to reconstruct. First we shall describe the apparent chain of events. Then, at the end of this chapter, we shall deal in rather more detail with the content of Bernard's criticism. Apart from the treatise directed against Abelard, Bernard's collection of letters includes two more letters to Pope Innocent II concerning Abelard; ep. 189 and 330. The treatise, ep. 190, belongs to the period before the Synod of Sens. Ep. 189 is Bernard's account of the synod and it can thereby be dated; it was probably written on the same day as the synod, or on the subsequent day. Ep. 330 remains, which is strikingly similar to ep. 189, but contains no account of the events at Sens. It is probably a draft for ep. i89.24 The remaining letters are in most cases directed to cardinals. One is aimed at the cardinals and bishops of the Curia in general, and one is to an abbot in Italy at the time. We can place with full certainty only those letters which, because of their content, must belong to the period after the synod. These we can leave aside for the moment. Some however remain that are more difficult to place; were they dispatched before or after the synod? It is indeed true that, apart from the treatise sent to the pope, we can say of none of the letters that it is impossible for them to have been written after the synod. The older construction, which usually assigns all the letters to that period, cannot therefore be completely rejected. But several of these letters can be explained more naturally if their purpose was to provoke a Roman initiative in the matter of Abelard at a time when Bernard did not yet know that he would be summoned to Sens. A minute examination of the letters shows that the whole of this body of material is linked. The same phrases reappear again and again, but often in new contexts. This would of course be most readily explained if they were all written at the same time, but on the other hand there is no reason why Bernard should not have repeated himself in a number of letters, as he did on numerous other occasions. Further, we must take into account the possibility that some of the letters may have

The Attack/131 been drafted before the synod but not dispatched until after it had been held. If a comparison is made between the letters as a whole, it is conspicuous that the letters giving the information that Abelard is about to come to Rome, and which can therefore be dated after the synod, do not give a particularly detailed description of Abelard's person and teaching, whereas those letters giving no information about his journey have many features in common, not only in their stern condemnation of Abelard's person but also in their description of his teaching. It is justifiable to ask, as does the German scholar Arno Borst, why Bernard in these letters should compare Abelard with Arms, Pelagius and Nestorius (the heretics of the early Church) if his addressees had in front of them, when they received the letters, a list of Abelard's condemned propositions. But such comparisons make good sense if the object was to stir Rome into action. On the basis of this argument there is good reason to assign a number of the letters to the period before the synod.25 The group of letters here referred to differs not only from those we can with certainty assign to the period after the synod, but also from the letter to the pope that accompanied the treatise and from the letter to the cardinals and bishops of the Curia. These two letters are strictly objective, in that they are concerned only with the supposedly heretical in Abelard's writings and with the problem of how to silence him. The other letters are however coloured by a fury that must be the result of some new experience. Against the background of these considerations, it should now be possible to give a reasonable account of the developments. After the unsuccessful approaches to Sens and Paris, only Rome remained. Bernard therefore wrote to the pope with a request for intervention against Abelard. He gave his detailed reasons for this request, on the one hand in the accompanying treatise, which attacked in particular Abelard's teaching on the Trinity and on the Atonement, and on the other in the accompanying list of heretical propositions, capitwla, in Abelard's books.26 In support of this request, he wrote, perhaps at the same time, a letter to the cardinals in which he demonstrates the responsibility of the Roman Church towards its believers. Hur and Aaron, who supported Moses' hands in the desert battle

132/Peter Abelard against Amalek, are likened to the zeal and authority of the Roman Church. Bernard therefore considers himself justified in appealing to the cardinals when the faith is attacked and Christ insulted. He gives a brief characterization of Abelard's theological activity, and invites the cardinals to read his works.27 The letter ends with an injunction that they should act, if reading Abelard's works should cause them the same consternation as Bernard has himself experienced. By these approaches, Bernard had done all he could to put a stop to Abelard, but without result. The question remains, what can have made him send a series of letters to individual members of the Curia, bearing in mind that the tone of each of these letters is completely different? It would of course be most natural to assume that the knowledge of Abelard's reply in the fifth edition of the Theologia to Bernard's attack had caused Bernard to abandon all discretion. As has recently been said, these new letters are written 'with consummate diplomatic skill'.28 Guy of Castello, known to be a friend of Abelard, was a dangerous man. The letter to him is remarkably subdued in its tone. Even so, Abelard is associated in it with the usual heretics of the early Church. We learn that he teaches 'profane new things', and that he claims to know everything, while it would be better for him if he knew himself. It is not Bernard who accuses him, the letter reads, but his own book. The main point of the letter is however its addressee: Bernard will not believe of Guy - no matter what others say - that he stretches his friendship so far that he even comes to love the errors of his friend. 'Certain people judge first and learn later, but I do not wish to judge whether the drink is sweet or bitter before I have tasted it.' Bernard has no wish to believe anything bad of Guy, since a friendship that also embraces errors would be earthly, animal, indeed devilish. Perhaps therefore it would be better for the Cardinal, as well as for the Church and for Abelard, if his (Abelard's) mouth Were to be closed; this mouth so full of condemnation, bitterness and deceit.29 In this way Bernard hoped to neutralize the goodwill Abelard enjoyed with the Curia. He writes in quite a different manner to the other cardinals, Ivo, Stephen and Gregory. They are all men he can rely upon, and he can therefore express freely what is in his heart. He gives

The Attack/133 vent here to all his indignation. The three letters are introduced with unrestrained descriptions of Abelard's person: he is a monk without nde, a prelate without sense of responsibility,80 an abbot without discipline,81 outwardly a John but inwardly a Herod;32 he argues with boys and consorts with women,83 he is a questionable character who has only name and habit in common with a monk.8* Following this character sketch, Bernard adds in one of the letters: 'But what has this to do with me? Each must bear his own burden/85 This however does not prevent his writing as he does. Apart from this, Abelard is described as a persecutor of the Church and an enemy of the Cross of Christ.86 He corrupts the faith and makes changes as the whim takes him.87 Bernard sees him as a regenerator of the heretics of old, since in all three letters he brings in Arius, Pelagius and Nestorius as bogy-men. But the rage is directed towards the nature of Abelard's theology - towards his whole band of disciples; he tries to penetrate the secrets of God; he exceeds the limits set by the Fathers; there is nothing in heaven nor on earth he does not know, except himself.38 Bernard reminds them that Abelard has already been condemned at Soissons, but adds that he is like a hydra that grows seven new heads as soon as one is cut off.89 In different form, all three letters end with requests for intervention. The letter to an unknown abbot has a similar content.40 All these letters bear strong witness to Bernard's intention to put an end to his enemy. One must admire his skill in repeating his finely elaborated attack with constant variation. The components are stereotyped, but repeatedly set within new frameworks adapted to the individual addressees. Abelard's influence with the Curia, witnessed to by both William and Bernard, must certainly have been strong if all this could not bring about the desired result. In spite of his unparalleled energy and inventiveness, Bernard achieved nothing by his immense effort. Circumstances that he could not have foreseen and whose possibilities he could not immediately assess were to give him the opportunity he lacked. Before we follow the further course of events, we shall stop for a moment to seek an answer to the question: what was it that made Bernard so embittered towards Abelard and all his

activities? This can of course be answered to some extent from the letters referred to above, but they tell us almost more about the degree of Bernard's rage. Personal bitterness colours his statements to such an extent that it is difficult on their basis alone to know for certain what it was all about. The treatise against Abelard is in this respect far more informative. Whereas William of St Thierry in his refutation deals with very many points, almost all of which were revived in the list of Abelard's heresies at the Synod of Sens, Bernard mentions most of these matters only in passing, and otherwise concentrates upon the teaching on the Trinity and on atonement. As already pointed out, his criticism is primarily directed against Abelard's actual method of dealing with theology. The individual passages in Abelard's works to which he refers directly are to him only a long series of examples of the master's method - in his boundless arrogance - of treating what is holy in the most ungodly and impudent manner. Abelard's intention - to understand Revelation - is for Bernard proof that Abelard wishes to use reason to penetrate the secrets of God. Such a thing is not permissible: we are permitted only to mark the effect of God's will and to perceive its beneficial fruit. The following statement is characteristic: 'Why, you ask, did God do by the Blood (that is to say through the death of Christ) what he could do by the Word alone? Ask God himself. It is permitted to me to know that it was so, but why it was so I am not permitted to know.'*1 Bernard consequently is not prepared to recognize any questioning of the reasons for belief, ratio /idei. Quite apart from whatever result Abelard arrives at, he has already erred in the manner itself of his questioning. Bernard describes Abelard's intentions in bitingly sarcastic terms. There is nothing in heaven nor on earth he does not know! He investigates God's majesty and insults the Holy Trinity with his profane similes. He wishes to subject everything to his reason - this other Aristotle who has himself almost become a heathen, as was his exemplar.42 Abelard adds and subtracts at his own discretion. This 'reckless searcher after God's majesty' has the audacity openly to go against the Fathers.48 He will believe nothing he cannot understand by his reasoning. Bernard overwhelms him with embittered exclama-

The Attack/135 tions: perverse dogmas, profane innovations, blasphemy, impudence, ungodliness, slander! In short, Bernard accuses Abelard of being a rationalist. To ask for causes and reasons, to seek to understand the Trinity, is to insult the faith and to persecute Christ's Church. In one respect it might be said that Bernard saw in Abelard precisely what in our day - from a diametrically opposite valuation - it has sometimes been sought to make of him: a disrespectful advocate of free thought, a kind of enlightening philosopher born six hundred years too early. This intense aversion to Abelard's theological methods naturally colours also Bernard's comprehension of his teaching. He sees him as a regenerator of old heresies, and also as an inventor of new ones. His attack on Abelard's teaching on the Trinity he concentrated on the images and similes Abelard uses, which Bernard considers to be unemployable - quite apart from the impudence they suggest. He arrives at this result by drawing from the similes conclusions in no way intended by Abelard. Although Abelard points out very clearly what they are similes of, Bernard ignores this limitation and treats them as if they were straight-forward comparisons, in all points congruent with the matter to be explained.44 The teaching on atonement is subjected to a detailed and thorough investigation in which, stage by stage, Bernard discusses Abelard's draft of the commentary on the Epistle to the Romans. Somewhat absurdly, he sees it as quite an original heresy of Abelard that, in contrast to the Fathers, he will not hear speak of the devil's right over man. We have already seen that Anselm of Canterbury was ahead of Abelard here. As concerns Abelard's teaching, Bernard finds that he has reduced the acts of Christ to no more than an example to be followed.45 In view of the close relationship between Bernard and Innocent II, due to a large extent to Bernard's victory over the antipope Anacletus II, one might anticipate that the treatise and the accompanying list of Abelard's heresies would cause the pope to act; but nothing happened. Instead, the heretic persisted and published an edition of the Theologia that took Bernard's objections into consideration, but in such a form that there was little in the way of admission of error.46 But although Abelard's influence with the Curia was still strong enough to prevent any

136 /Peter Abelard action against him, he was fully aware of the danger inherent in Bernard's attack. The personal bitterness, which was now implacable on both sides, probably also helped to determine his tactics. Now that the matter had become known far and wide, Abelard could see no other way out than the solution he had tried so many times before, and which incidentally was so well suited to his temperament: to fight his way through. He took this decision on the basis of a supreme confidence in his intellectual superiority. Bernard's action convinced him of the necessity to make the dispute, already known everywhere, fully public. The consequence of this was the approach to the Archbishop of Sens.

CHAPTER 8

The Encounter at Sens

The recently published letter from Abelard to his friends and disciples1 makes it clear that he viewed Bernard's action in the same light as, in his autobiography, he had judged the behaviour of his other enemies - that is, as an expression of envy. He speaks bitterly of Bernard as an old enemy who until this very moment has pretended to be a friend. Bernard had written that the Theologia should rather have been called the Stultilogia (from stultus: foolish), and this appears to have hurt him.2 It is incidentally apparent from the letter that Abelard had heard of Bernard's approach to the Archbishop of Sens, in the presence of many of his own friends, and he had also heard how Bernard, as he expresses it, had 'belched forth from the depth of his wickedness' in Paris. What is to Bernard the cause of Christ is, in Abelard's eyes nothing more than the spiteful envy of a monk inferior to him in intellect. Abelard finally writes that the Archbishop has now sent Bernard a letter to the effect that, if he wishes to pursue his accusations, Abelard is prepared to reply to his 'capitula9 - that is, his list of suspicious propositions - on the Sunday after Whitsun.8 These capitula would be identical with the list Bernard had sent to the pope.4 Further, the letter shows that Abelard had not as yet been informed of Bernard's reply, but he asks his friends to come to Sens to stand by him. The Archbishop of Sens had failed to act as Bernard wished, but he willingly complied with Abelard's appeal. This need not

138/PeterAbelard necessarily indicate that he took Abelard's side, but it is certain he must have accepted the role Abelard intended for him - a kind of arbitrator in the discussion - and it is not inconceivable that he may have wished to impose this difficult situation on Bernard. These two had earlier been at loggerheads with one another. One of the most distasteful letters in all Bernard's collection is directed to Henry of Sens.5 It is true they had become reconciled a short time before, but the high prelate can scarcely have nourished any especially friendly feelings towards Bernard. Bernard however had no intention at all of appearing. He simply refused.6 He was honest enough later to admit to the pope that he found a verbal dispute with the famous dialectician not particularly tempting. But he had other reasons more related to principle on which to found his refusal: faith should not be made the subject of dispute; Abelard's heresy is clearly apparent from his books; finally it is a matter for the bishops, and not for Bernard, to judge Abelard.7 In spite of all these excellent reasons for staying at home, the end result was that Bernard had to change his mind. Abelard did all he could to make it known that he was going to reply to Bernard at Sens, and he invited a great number of people. Bernard however, in his letter to the pope, says that even this could not move him, as he did not care what people said. He also refers to Abelard's activities: 'What he has been writing about me to his disciples I would rather not say/8 But in the end he gave in to the advice of his friends, albeit reluctantly; they were afraid that Bernard's failure to appear would enhance Abelard's reputation and give offence to the people there.9 We may believe Bernard when he says that he gave in only with reluctance, indeed with tears. But when he adds that he came unprepared and unprotected it is not so easy to take him seriously. He had in any case taken care to write a plaintive letter to the bishops, in which he earnestly begs them to appear and to show themselves to be friends, not of him, but of Christ. The Bride of Christ calls them to the forest of heresy where she is in danger of strangulation. The Bridegroom's friends (the bishops) should not betray the Bride of Christ in her misery. He explains why he writes so late in the day by adding that his opponent, in his cunning, has taken care to direct his attack

The Encounter at Sens/139 against the unconcerned and unsuspecting, forcing the unprotected to appear.10 To say the least, this can only be regarded as a somewhat one-sided account. The atmosphere during the period preceding the meeting at Sens was consequently very sombre, and characterized by the deepest mutual suspicion, not to say hatred. Both sides sought to mobilize all their forces. Abelard's letter to his friends and Bernard's to the bishops here confront one another. Knowing the background, a comparison between the two letters proves very enlightening. Personal bitterness is equally strong in both, and each equally feels that he is the victim of treachery. Yet though they are alike in their attitudes towards each other and in their determination to maintain their positions unyieldingly, their approach to the substance and form of the debate could scarcely be more different. Abelard pleads only his own cause; he feels that his honour as a master has been deeply outraged, and he seeks an opportunity to defend it against the ambush of envy. His reliance on his own superiority leads him to regard an opportunity to fight as almost the same as victory. For him it is all a matter of arguments, and he has no doubt who will have the best of these! Bernard goes about things in quite a different way. He pleads - he believes in - not his own cause but that of God and the Church. In his usual metaphorical style, he urges the bishops to stand with him against the destroyer. The matter to hand is, for him, not an academic discussion but a fight against heresy, the very destruction of life. By using images from the Song of Songs, by which he lived and breathed, he sees himself as the personification of the Church in battle with the dragon - the evil powers that are opposed to God. The disputation, which Abelard desired and considered to be the only just process, Bernard, from his utterly different point of view, sought to prevent at any price. All courtesy was forgotten on both sides. Abelard's only desire was to make Bernard a laughingstock in a public debate, and so to silence his enemy. Bernard's object, on the other hand, was to secure Abelard's conviction for heresy, and thus to have his books condemned, any further teaching banned and his influence finally destroyed. The gap was unbridgeable, and from the outset the battle could scarcely end in anything but the unequivocal defeat of one of them.

140/Peter Abelard In the period before the meeting at Sens, Abelard acquired a follower unlikely to commend his cause at Rome. This was the Italian priest Arnold of Brescia (1100-1155) who, through his teaching that the Church should renounce all its earthly possessions, had advanced the movement towards the liberation of the Italian towns from the sovereignty of the Church. He came to Paris, where he attached himself to Abelard in his dispute with Bernard, whom Arnold accused of vanity.11 Another Italian also joined Abelard's camp at this time: the Roman sub-deacon Hyacinth, who without doubt was his disciple. He probably appeared because he had become alarmed by Bernard's plea to Rome - indeed, perhaps he came as a kind of emissary from Abelard's supporters in the Roman Curia. Everything was now ready for the great trial of strength. The Sunday after Whitsun, 1140, had already been signalled as a day to remember. A display of relics belonging to Sens Cathedral was to be the occasion of great festivities on that very day, and the presence of the king and his court was expected. It followed that the other bishops of the arch-diocese would also be present as far as was possible. It was therefore Abelard's intention to take advantage of these circumstances; the planned festivities were a guarantee that a discussion between him and Bernard would not pass without comment! As a result of Abelard's reaction to Bernard's attack, however, the character of the festivities was entirely changed. It was possibly due to Bernard, whose friends they were, that the Archbishop of Rheims, together with some of his suffragens, made his way to Sens on the second of June, and monks, priests and personalities from the academic and secular worlds flocked to the city from all quarters to be present at the great contest. After the meeting, Bernard wrote to the pope that he had gone to Sens confidently believing that the inspiration of the Holy Spirit would direct what he was to say, but it should be added that as a precaution he had also made a plan.12 On the second of June he preached to the people and asked them to pray for Abelard.13 Later in the day he assembled the bishops for a consultation, and appeared here with a list of Abelard's heresies. In spite of Hyacinth, who would have been present, he succeeded in carrying his point of view. His complaint concerning

The Encounter at Sens/141 Hyacinth to the pope and his chancellor, Cardinal Haimeric, suggests that Hyacinth went so far as to threaten him;14 but, be that as it may, he persuaded the bishops to support him. Among these were many of his close friends and at least one of Abelard's old enemies, Joscelin of Soisson. Berengar of Poitier, Abelard's disciple, gives a scurrilous account of the state the bishops were in at the meeting, which is difficult to believe but too amusing to be ignored. He asserts that they were so sleepy from the wine they had taken with their meal that they had great difficulty in following Bernard's exposition. To his question: damnatis? (that is to say: do you condemn?), it was, he maintains, difficult for some of the worthy gentlemen to pronounce the word damnamus (we condemn). They dropped the first syllable, and so, with namus (we are floating or swimming) they unwittingly described their sodden state!15 Whatever the circumstances may have been, Bernard got what he wanted. By these tactics he had ensured his control of the events of the following day. He had no longer to attack his feared opponent in the face of an impartial audience; he was now the designated prosecutor of a court of inquisition. There can be no doubt that Abelard was informed that the basis for all his assumptions about the form of the proceedings had thereby been destroyed. He of course carefully considered how he should act in this new situation. Informed of Bernard's careful preparations (which as one of Bernard's modern biographers says without a vestige of subtlety 'simplified the public discussions of the synod'16), Abelard was fully aware of what he might expect from a tribunal entirely under the influence of Bernard. On the other hand, he could at least hope that his friends in Rome would be able to upset Bernard's plans. We must therefore assume that Abelard fully realized the implications of what he was about to do when, on the following day at the appointed time, he entered the cathedral where the great assembly headed by the king and the bishops was awaiting him. After Bernard had read aloud a list of capitula for Abelard to admit as his and then either renounce or defend, or alternatively deny authorship of, he refused to make any form of statement on the grounds that he was appealing to Rome.17

142 /Peter Abelard Bernard and his party later stressed that Abelard had been subjected to no pressure. His freedom and safety had been guaranteed, and everyone had been prepared to listen to all he had to advance.18 In a technical sense therefore it is certainly wrong for Berengar of Poitiers to assert that the synod condemned Abelard without being willing to hear him.19 But one might well ask what value this freedom could have had for Abelard when he knew that the matter was already decided, and that he was to be condemned by his enemies. The various letters reflect the confusion Abelard's appeal evoked among those assembled. What was now to be done? It was impossible to ignore the appeal, although they were not convinced that it was in accordance with canon law.20 Abelard had succeeded once more in upsetting Bernard's plans. Out of consideration for the pope, they decided to leave to him the decision as to Abelard's person, and to confine themselves to condemning nineteen propositions as heretical. In the reports to the pope, however, the action they wished him to take against Abelard was carefully set out. After his appeal, Abelard left the church and the city. As he went from the church, his glance fell upon the well-known master, Gilbert de la Porree. Upon seeing his colleague - an outstanding dialectician like himself and an admirer of the Greek philosophers - a quotation from Horace came to his mind: When your neighbour's wall is burning, it is your turn next!21 What appeared to be merely an elegant exit later proved a sombre prophecy. A few years later, Gilbert was accused of heresy by Bernard at the Synod of Rheims.22 When Abelard had left, steps were taken to condemn the nineteen propositions put forward, and therewith the synod was concluded. All that remained was to inform the pope of the result of the proceedings. The reports were probably prepared before the bishops parted. Bernard considered it advisable to write on his own behalf, and episcopal letters were sent from Sens and Rheims. Both these are included in Bernard's collection of letters, and this is not without reason. The letter from Samson of Rheims in particular bears the unmistakable stamp of Bernard's style, using several of the phrases taken from his letters to the Roman prelates. Samson describes Abelard as a man from whom nothing

The Encounter at Sens/143 is hidden, since he claims to understand everything through his intellect. A number of Bernard's terms of abuse find employment here once again. In addition, the current affair is brought into relation with the judgment at Soissons in 1121, precisely as Bernard had done in several of his Roman letters.23 Though Bernard was probably also consulted when Henry of Sens drafted the letter from his Archdiocese - the official report of the proceedings - this relationship was not mentioned, as Geoffrey of Chartres, Abelard's friend at Soisson, was a co-signatory of the Sens letter. In this second letter, emphasis was given to a point only hinted at by Samson: Abelard's dangerous influence upon student youth whom he had encouraged to discuss the Holy Trinity, resulting in the circulation of many unseemly things. In picturesque terms, Abelard is described as the centre of a pernicious furore, which right-minded men have attempted to halt in vain. At the same time, the bishops admit that they themselves had become very uneasy, but had done nothing about it. In a somewhat pathetic manner, the archbishop then tries to divorce himself from the invitation he had extended, on Abelard's initiative, to Bernard. Thereafter follows a description of what took place at Sens, and the letter ends with an earnest request to the pope to deprive Abelard of the opportunity to write and to teach.24 As well as writing to the pope, Bernard also sent letters to some of the cardinals in order to hasten the condemnation. Abelard's counter-stroke had of course deprived Bernard of an immediate victory. It is true that the synod had declared the nineteen capitula to be false and heretical, but unfortunately Abelard had not admitted to them. There is no doubt that Bernard was very concerned that Abelard, with his feared eloquence, might be able to turn the mood in Rome to his advantage, once he was given an opportunity to speak in his own cause. Nothing bears witness more clearly to Bernard's continuing sense of insecurity than this correspondence. There could be no question of allowing the matter to take its course quietly and peacefully; it was important to get a quick decision which would give Abelard no time for new counter-moves. The letter to the pope gives Bernard's version of what occurred

144/Peter Abelard before the meeting at Sens and on the day itself. This long letter is a brilliant example of Bernard's letter-writing art. Two features in particular have the touch of genius. First, the comparison between the earlier papal schism and Abelard's heresy; Bernard laments the misery of this life, which has now brought him face to face with the ambush of the dragon (Abelard) so soon after he had secured peace from the raging of the lion (a reference to the family name of the anti-pope, Anacletus II, Pier Leone). In this way he succeeds in reminding the pope of the services he had rendered in helping to overcome the schism. Secondly, the circumstance that Arnold of Brescia had joined Abelard is described as if Arnold and Abelard, 'the Italian bee and the French bee', had formed a league against the Church or, as Bernard plaintively expresses it, 'against the Lord and His anointed'. The two are compared with Goliath and his weapon-bearer, whose impudence increases in the belief that there is no David in the Israel camp. It is discreetly left to the pope himself to decide who is David, although Bernard ensures that this is not very difficult for him: 'When all have fled before him, he now challenges me to single combat!' There is scarcely any doubt that these well-calculated reminders of two of the most disagreeable episodes in Innocent II's reign had their intended effect, although they had nothing at all to do with the matter at hand. The letter ends with a negative reference to Hyacinth: Bernard has no wish to describe the mischief Hyacinth did against him; he takes no heed of this, as Hyacinth spares not even the Roman Curia.25 The same hint appears in the letter to Chancellor Haimeric, but he adds that Hyacinth also took the pope to task.26 In this manner Bernard prepared the ground for the return home of the young subdeacon, and neutralized the unpleasant testimony he was expected to give. The other letters to Rome of that period add nothing new. They warn of Abelard's arrival, briefly describe the content of his heresy and urge onwards the fight for the cause of Christ and for the threatened faith.27 While Bernard went about this work, Abelard was by no means idle. He went south, obviously with the intention of travelling to Rome; but he never reached there. He soon arrived at the famous monastery of Cluny, where he was kindly

The Encounter at Sens/145 received by the abbot, Peter the Venerable. Here he began to write his defence. As there are no documents from the Synod of Sens, Abelard is the only contemporary source from which we can draw conclusions as to the nineteen capitula that were condemned; indeed, we know the number of the propositions only from him.28 There now exist two different defence documents from the hand of Abelard; one is a brief Confessio fidci,29 and the other an Apologia laid out on a grand scale, of which unfortunately we have only a fragment containing a refutation of the first proposition.30 In both works Abelard sets out the propositions claimed to be heretical, but the two lists we can prepare on the basis of his accounts do not quite coincide. The Confessio very probably takes up a position on the capitula that Bernard had sent the pope together with his treatise, while the Apologia concerns the synod's capitula.81 The Confessio should therefore be read as a personal defence against Bernard's treatise. This being the case, it probably came into being before the synod.32 If this is not so, it must be assumed that he wrote it immediately after the departure from Sens, with the purpose of dissociating himself at once from the condemned heresies. Abelard's use of the list in Bernard's treatise could then be explained on the basis that he had not then learned of the exact wording of the synod's capitula. The purpose of the Apologia is completely clear. It is intended as a detailed refutation of the accusations with a view to the anticipated proceedings in Rome. If one looks more closely at the capitula, it is possible to establish that some of them are in fact to be found in Abelard's writings: in the Theologia, the Ethics and the Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans. Others, however, it is impossible to trace; they undoubtedly originate from the work already referred to, The Book of Sentences, attributed to Abelard by Bernard but for which Abelard denied any responsibility. Many of them already appear in William of St Thierry's list, and most of them are to be found in Bernard's indictment. They centre around the doctrine of the Trinity, the atonement, the person of Christ, original sin and the concept of sin as a whole. We shall here refer to only the most significant: those capitula that have a direct connection with Abelard's writings. The first proposition is not a quotation, but is claimed to

146/Peter Abelard follow from Abelard's teaching on the Trinity. In translation it reads as follows: 'that the Father is the omnipotent power, the Son a certain power, and the Holy Ghost no power'. In their refutation of this, both William and Bernard maintain with great vehemence and intense wrath that the proposition follows from Abelard's explanation of the relationship between the divine Persons.33 As already shown, Abelard uses the concepts of power, wisdom and goodness to characterize the three Persons. The conclusions of William and Bernard are to the following effect: the Son is wisdom, wisdom is a certain power (namely, to discern), consequently the Son is a certain power; the Holy Ghost is goodness, goodness is no power, consequently the Holy Ghost is no power. Abelard had already replied to this objection in the fifth edition of the Theologia. In the fragment of his Apologia that we have, he goes into more detail concerning this. As in the Theologia, linguistic logic is the means of establishing that the proposition rests upon a misunderstanding. Two words having the same meaning when taken in isolation can, when employed as predicates in a sentence, assume completely different meanings, so that one of the sentences must be affirmed and the other denied. For example, God (Deus) and divinity (divinitas) have precisely the same meaning, but whereas one might well say: 'God is man' or 'God has suffered', it would be false to say: 'Divinity is man' or 'Divinity has suffered'. In the same way, God and 'God's substance' are completely identical, but it is none the less false to say that 'God's substance' is born of the Virgin Mary. Several more examples are cited. Consequently, Abelard believes, it is no more than ignorance of dialectic that leads Bernard to draw the conclusion that the comparison of the Son with wisdom, and of the Holy Ghost with goodness, must mean that everything which can be said of wisdom (or goodness) can also be said of the Son (or the Holy Ghost). By the use of the concepts of power, wisdom and goodness, Abelard seeks to characterize the relationship between the Persons; it is on the basis of these propositions that Bernard draws his conclusions, as if it were a matter of comparing the share of the Son and the Holy Ghost in the divine attributes with that of the Father. We may certainly say that Bernard's misunderstanding is natural, but it is effectively rejected by

The Encounter at Sens/147 Abelard. The first and perhaps the most important proposition in the list of heresies consequently lacks any basis whatever in relation to Abelard's works. It is not only impossible anywhere to find the proposition itself, but neither had Abelard at any time believed what it implies.8* After reading the small fragment of the Apologia, we understand more readily why Bernard was so anxious to avoid meeting Abelard on an equal footing, but we must also deeply regret that we are precluded from knowing how Abelard would have handled the remaining propositions.35 Abelard's draft of a doctrine of atonement in the Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans had greatly embittered Bernard; but when this is developed into a proposition to the effect that Christ did not become man to free us from the yoke of the devil it is no longer possible to recognize Abelard's original point, and it becomes comprehensible that in the Confessio fidei he finds no difficulty in affirming the opposite. It is true to say that Abelard had sought to put an end to the discussion about the devil's right, and it is clear enough that his doctrine of the atonement took a new line; he can be distinguished from his contemporaries by his wish to see no juridical compulsion in the form of a payment for sin. But it cannot be said that the condemned proposition can with justice be fastened upon him.36 There was rather more success with a number of propositions concerned with Abelard's concept of sin. The condemnation of a proposition to the effect that we, from Adam onwards, have brought not guilt upon ourselves but only punishment can therefore be understood. William had already attacked Abelard on this point, probably on the basis of the Book of Sentences.*7 In the Commentary on the Epistle to the Rowans, Abelard took the opportunity to advance his views on original sin. He says here, precisely as in the Ethica, that sin in the true sense means the souPs guilt and contempt of God, but that the expression is also used for the punishment that follows the sin or which we are considered to have become liable to because of the sin.38 Consequently, Abelard must maintain that original sin is more a matter of punishment than of sin in the true sense, since small children cannot despise God. That we have sinned in Adam then signifies that we are condemned eternally because of his

148 /Peter Abelard sin, if the remedies of the divine Sacraments do not come to our aid.89 The basic viewpoint is not very different from that found in Anselm of Canterbury, who also saw original sin primarily as a liability imposed upon us.40 But Abelard felt it advisable even so to make a few reservations at the end. He therefore concludes his theory of original sin with the comment that what he has said should be taken more as an expression of opinion than as a firm conviction.41 But this, as we shall see, was not sufficient to save him from becoming the object of suspicion. There is no difficulty in appreciating that the basic moral viewpoint - that is, the whole ethic of intention - must have caused offence. William was also the pioneer here.42 The concept that those who crucified Christ did not sin because they acted in ignorance is condemned, as also are the demarcations Abelard employs in order to reach a conclusion as to what is the true good (or evil) in an action.48 But as these propositions, in common with the other capitula, have been torn away from their context, it is difficult to decide in what light they were regarded by the synod, and whether the synod's understanding of them bore any relation to Abelard's intention. At all events, they were condemned without the alleged author being heard. In the Confessio fidei, Abelard provides a brief summary of the capitula, and also expresses his opinion on Bernard's attack. 'It is a well-known saying: Nothing is so well said that it cannot be distorted/ With these words he introduces, and thereby immediately professes, his defence. He repudiates all the capitula, either by a denial of ever having written in this way or by giving an explanation attributing to the proposition a meaning different from Bernard's. As concerns Bernard's motives, Abelard has no doubt: he acted either from malice or from ignorance. Abelard concedes that he - who has spoken so much in the schools - may have failed, but he calls upon God to witness that it was never from malice or pride. He has, he says, always been and always will be prepared to correct himself. With a direct reference to one of Bernard's phrases, he contests ever having taught anything in secret.44 His books have always been publicly available. He denies having written the Book of Sentences referred to by Bernard, and in Bernard's use of it he can see only the usual malice or ignorance. Finally, Abelard

The Encounter at Sens/149 reminds his 'friend' that love enjoins one not to bring shame upon one's neighbour, and when in doubt to interpret everything in the best sense. This conclusion perhaps suggests that the paper was written before the synod as a last invitation to Bernard to withdraw. The Apologia, which we must assume was begun by Abelard immediately after his arrival at Cluny, is also directed against Bernard, who is shown no mercy. Abelard has long tolerated his slander in the expectation that ne would desist, either from fear of sin or out of respect for normal behaviour. But as it is now obvious that Bernard continues as he began, Abelard is forced to deal with him. Bernard is not content, like the Devil interpreting the Bible, to construe wrongly while using the correct words, but alters both sense and words. As we have said, Abelard's basic standpoint in refuting the first proposition is that Bernard has misunderstood him completely for the simple reason that he is unversed in dialectic, and consequently has no idea how such a problem should be examined. Abelard was not subdued by the events at Sens. Ready to fight as always, he prepared himself for the next phase. That part of the Apologia we have shows very clearly that Abelard's anger was as unrelenting as Bernard's. The prospect of a hearing in Rome appears not to have worried him; at least it did nothing to weaken his fighting spirit. But he was proved wrong in his belief that he would be given an opportunity to fight for his cause at the Curia. This time it was Bernard who had the last word.

CHAPTER 9

Epilogue

While Abelard was waiting at Cluny with sharpened pen, preparing what he certainly hoped would be the literary destruction of Bernard, his opponent's express messenger was hastening towards Rome with the letters, which this time had the intended effect. As early as July i6th, not quite a month and a half after the synod, Pope Innocent II despatched two letters: to the Archbishops of Rheims and Sens and to the Abbot of Clairvaux. In one of these he confirmed the verdict of the synod on the nineteen capitula and himself condemned Abelard as a heretic, forbidding him to continue writing; all his followers, including expressly Arnold of Brescia, were excommunicated. In the other letter, the pope gave orders for Abelard to be placed in the custody of a monastery and for his books to be burnt wherever they were to be found. It was left to Bernard and the archbishops to decide upon Abelard's place of confinement.1 Geoffrey of Auxerre writes that the pope himself set up a stake in St Peter's for the burning of the books.2 However, not all Abelard's books within the area of Rome were burnt, for Pope Celestine II was able a few years later to present his native town with copies of them! He knew what he was about, since he was none other than Abelard's old benefactor, Guy of Castello.8 If we bear in mind the great distance between Sens and Rome and the postal services of the period, it becomes apparent that there had been no delay in Rome. There had been very little time to deal with the matter, but apart from this aspect Abelard

Epilogue/151 was convicted without being heard. Although the nineteen propositions were considered to be heretical, and therefore had to be condemned, it still remained to be proved, before Abelard himself was condemned, that he acknowledged them as his. The bishops excused their judgment on the propositions by saying that Abelard himself had chosen his judges - indeed had fixed the time and place - and it was therefore his own fault if he would not speak, although given an opportunity to do so.4 This statement can perhaps be contested, since it was scarcely an inquisitorial hearing that Abelard had agreed with the archbishop. The bishops however avoided passing judgment on Abelard's person, realizing that, as he had said nothing, it would be incorrect to do so. The pope however allowed no such considerations to obstruct him. It must be assumed that Bernard's personal prestige had decided the issue. In that sense Bernard can be awarded all the honours for having secured Abelard's condemnation, the pope in his letter permitting him to share these honours with the bishops. Without doubt, this condemnation came as a great surprise to Abelard. The procedure was so irregular that the possibility would never have occurred to him. The information probably reached him while he was still preparing his defence. We do not know whether he broke off his work on the Apologia after this; the existing fragment has been interrupted in the middle of a sentence, but there is hope that one day the continuation will be found, however long this may be. Abelard and Bernard shared the current concept of heresy: it was not so much the wrong opinion itself as the obstinate persistence in it that was heretical. Bernard believed this to be precisely what he saw in Abelard, and he therefore did not rest until he had forced Abelard to be silent. The events following the condemnation proved him wrong. Abelard submitted without argument as a dutiful son of the Church. In this difficult situation he did not forget Heloise. It is in a letter to her that he writes the often-quoted words: 'I do not wish to be a philosopher by dissociating myself from Paul; I do not wish to be an Aristotle by separating myself from Christ, since there is no other name under heaven by which I can be saved/ He assures her that he has established his

i $2/Peter Abdard conscience upon the rock on which Christ has built His Church. Then follows a statement of faith in the Holy Trinity with special emphasis on the points found wanting in his books: the absolute equality of the Persons and a clear rejection of Arius and Sabellius. We do not know when this letter was written probably immediately after the condemnation at Sens; he wished to reassure Heloise immediately, as he knew she would be unhappy about the events at the synod. Perhaps we may be permitted to surmise that, at the time his enemies were assailing him, he desired for his own comfort to turn once more to her whose love would have appeared to him as the fortress of his being. The venerable Abbot Peter of Cluny was not content only to express his sympathy for Abelard, and immediately after the papal judgment he took the initiative towards a reconciliation. With the co-operation of the Abbot of Citeaux, he succeeded in arranging a meeting between Abelard and Bernard. Abelard travelled to Clairvaux, where he had a peaceable reunion with Bernard. We are unaware of the details of these discussions, as they are suppressed by Bernard's biographers. Bernard's pleasure would have been somewhat mixed. He could scarcely refuse to welcome Abelard's willingness to co-operate, but this very fact would have made him doubt the justification for his own actions. The man he had succeeded in having condemned as a heretic had now shown that he completely lacked the obstinacy of a heretic. Bernard's doctrinal victory was consequently turned into a moral defeat. Peter the Venerable informed the pope of these matters, and at the same time asked permission to keep Abelard in his monastery for the rest of his days. This coincided with Abelard's own wishes, and so it was arranged. The pope gave his permission and lifted Abelard's sentence without objection.5 In his letter to the pope, Peter the Venerable hints that Abelard's days would not be many. His health was somewhat poor, and just over a year and a half after his arrival at Cluny, in April 1142, he died. At that time he had been moved to a daughter house of Cluny which was thought to have a healthier climate. Although the last period of his life was marked by great physical adversity, there is nothing to suggest that the condemnation had broken him; he worked on tirelessly to the last.

Epilogue/153 He had, it is true, submitted to the judgment of the Church, but this in no way meant that, from fear or from any sudden distrust in his powers of judgment, he spurned his own achievements. In his last unfinished work, The Dialogue between a Jew, a Philosopher and a Christian, he continues along his usual path and proudly refers to the Theologia as an admirable piece of work. Abelard here awards himself the very same worth as that found in his autobiography; he is the greatest master of his time whose legitimate reputation neither envy nor persecution has been able to assail.6 Against this background, it is strange to read Peter the Venerable's account of Abelard's life at Cluny, given in a letter to Heloi'se after Abelard's death. 'However great or however beautiful the testimony that Cluny can pay to his holy, humble and pious life among us, this cannot be expressed in a few words. For, if I am not mistaken, I remember having seen no person to compare with him in humility, both as to habit and behaviour And although, because I wished it, he occupied a high rank among the great host of our brothers, one would be forced, upon seeing his miserable clothing, to believe him the most inferior of all/ The abbot continues by telling how Abelard was content with the least possible in all things; he spent his time reading and praying, and only spoke when he was asked to preach to the brothers or to instruct them in their reading.7 It accords well with this way of life that Abelard immediately submitted to the pope's verdict and became reconciled with Bernard. It proves to us that the instructions Abelard had given Heloi'se and her nuns in sermons and letters were no empty words, but were deeply rooted in his own experience. Perhaps the conversation with Bernard also touched upon the ascetic life they had in common. Here at least was an area where they could meet. In the field of objective theology, however, Abelard acknowledged no submission; he was convinced of the rectitude of his actions. He submitted to the decision of the Church because he was not and never had been the freebooter Bernard thought him to be, and he submitted with a good conscience because he believed his theology to be in conformity with Church doctrine. Submission was to him a testimony that accorded with his theology, and for that very reason it signified

154/Peter Abelard no change of mind on his part. Even after his readmission to the Church and his reconciliation with Bernard, he continued to look upon the attack as an expression of envy or ignorance. The contrast between personal humility and high arrogance as soon as his theological work was questioned is therefore only apparent. He himself was in no difficulty on this point. It appears that Abelard's move to the monastery of St Marcel in the neighbourhood of Chalon had in fact a favourable effect upon his health. Peter the Venerable writes concerning this: 'Here he resumed his old studies, so far as his weakness permitted, and he was always engrossed in his books. Similarly, as we read of Gregory the Great, he allowed no moment to pass unused, but was always praying, reading, writing or dictating/ Illness interrupted him in the middle of his work, and because of his low resistance it quickly gained the upper hand. Peter ends his account of Abelard's last hours by addressing himself directly to Heloise, whom he tries to console by saying that Christ will preserve him for her until the time when God, in the Second Coming of the Lord, will return him to her.8 This letter was in reply to Heloise, who had written to Cluny, probably immediately after hearing the rumour of Abelard's death, requesting that Abelard's body be transferred to the Paraclete.9 This in fact occurred. In a letter to Peter the Venerable, Heloise thanks him for a visit to the Paraclete and asks him to send her a letter embodying an absolution for Abelard, which she can hang on his grave. At the same time, she asks the abbot to secure for their son, Astrolabius, a prebend either at Notre Dame in Paris or at another cathedral.10 With the reply came the desired absolution for Abelard; this apart, Peter promised to do what he could for Astrolabius.11 Abelard's death did not, as Heloise had once said it would in a letter to him,12 end her own life. It was more than twenty years later that the first abbess of the Paraclete died and was laid in the grave where her beloved rested. Although the Abelard affair had been concluded with the pope's sentence and Abelard's submission, and although Bernard had consequently won a complete victory, there was still one person who dared to speak against this powerful man. Berengar of Poitiers, a disciple of Abelard, wrote a defence of his teacher

Epilogue/155 that, in style and content, has more the nature of an attack on Bernard. This little monograph contributes objectively only very little to the dispute, but it probably reflects quite well the mood in Abelard's camp. The treatise begins with a somewhat equivocal reference to Bernard's reputation for eloquence and holiness. Berengar then describes the encounter at Sens and reproaches Bernard for his harshness. By way of testimony to Abelard's orthodoxy he quotes the extract already referred to from the letter to Heloise. Finally, he enters into a direct attack upon Bernard's own theology, and scoffs at his sermons on the Song of Songs. Several of Bernard's statements are branded as heretical, with a view to showing what little right Bernard had to direct an accusation of heresy against others. Berengar seems to have been a somewhat arrogant young man, who delighted in his well-phrased insults and apt quotations from the classics. Even so, it would be wrong to reject him out of hand. Here and there his accusations hit the mark, for example when he writes as follows about Bernard's sermon at Sens: 'You said in your address to the people that they should offer prayers to God for him [that is, for Abelard]; but inwardly you prepared to eject him from Christendom.'13 If we ignore the sarcasm, much of which is of studied virulence, there still remains one point that appears to stem from a sincere love of Abelard: Berengar does not deny that Abelard may have erred, but he reproaches Bernard for showing no mercy. 'But, say the supporters of the abbot, he sought to lead Peter to the right road. If, my good man, it was your intention to lead Peter back to the purity of the Faith, why then did you wish, in the sight of the people, to brand him with the mark of eternal damnation? And, on the other hand, in depriving Peter of the love of the people, how then did you intend to guide him? By comparing these facts, one comes to the conclusion that it was not eagerness to guide but the desire for personal revenge that awoke your burning wrath against Peter. Gloriously has the prophet said: The righteous guide me in mercy. For where mercy is lacking there can be no talk of reproof by the righteous but only of the crude barbarism of a tyrant.'14 Berengar concedes that several of the Sens propositions were said and written by Abelard, but in some of them he had no part. He promises to go into this in more detail

i $6/Peter Abelard in a later treatise, but for the moment his purpose was to reject Bernard's right to brand Abelard with the name of heretic.16 The new treatise, in which Berengar was to discuss in more detail the accusations against Abelard, he unfortunately never succeeded in writing. Had he done so, this might well have helped us to determine more precisely the origin of those propositions not to be found in Abelard's works. Berengar soon had other things to think about; his attack on Bernard gave rise to much indignation, and he was forced to flee. From his exile he wrote seeking reconciliation with the many he had offended, including the anchorites at La Grande Chartreuse. Among other points, he mentions one objection put forward against his treatise which, whether consciously or not, has often lain behind evaluations of the dispute between Bernard and Abelard: How dare you speak against the saintly man! As for the rest, he excuses himself by his youth, and states that he has not published his promised continuation because he has no wish to protect the rejected capitula. He cannot call back the first treatise, since it has been spread throughout France and Italy in a great number of copies, but he is prepared to show his penitence by declaring that all he has said against the man of God, Bernard, should be read as a jest, and not taken seriously.16 It appears reasonable to conclude from the letter that Berengar had created quite a sensation, but that he had been forced to see that it was beyond his powers to continue the struggle.17 Whereas Berengar of Poitiers was made to pay heavily for his audacity towards Bernard, the powerful Abbot of Cluny could permit himself to express his opinion freely. This he did in an epitaph on Abelard which gives the impression almost of a polemic against Bernard. There cannot be the slightest doubt that Peter the Venerable's disapproval of Bernard's behaviour was extreme. Although the leader of the Cluniacs was one of those placid people who find greater satisfaction in negotiating peace than in hunting down opponents, he had by no means shared the general admiration of Bernard. Apart from Peter the Venerable, there were few who dared to speak for Abelard. It is clear that, against the background of the events following the Synod of Sens, Abelard's supporters at the Curia in Rome felt themselves not strong enough openly to champion his cause.

Epilogue/157 Arnold of Brescia appeared as a master in Paris for a short time, but although he may well have defended Abelard, his real concern - the struggle against the landed property of the Church was of quite a different nature. In any event, this restless man soon set out on his wanderings again, pursued far beyond the frontiers of France by the saintly Bernard. A far more important development was that Abelard's successor at Mont Ste Genevieve, the British-born Robert of Melun, openly defended his teaching on the Holy Trinity and used his terminology,18 Further proof that Abelard's use of the three concepts of power, wisdom and goodness in relation to the three divine persons by no means gave rise to universal suspicion may be found in Richard of St Victor's monograph On the Holy Trinity. The school of the Victorines was close to Bernard, but in spite of this the dispute over Abelard's theology appears to have made no impression on Richard. These examples of a positive attitude are however rather isolated in the face of the general silence on Abelard in later scholastic -theology. He fades out of discussion in a singular manner. There can be no doubt of the reason for this: Bernard's influence was strong enough to erase Abelard's name. The Saint's opinions came to determine the contemporary assessment, as well as that of later times. So it came about that the schoolmen of the thirteenth century were directly concerned with Abelard only to a limited extent. Bernard's accusations simply lived on. They determined the historical image of Abelard's theology that remained relatively undisputed until there commenced, during the latter part of the nineteenth century, the recrudescence of interest in the thought of the Middle Ages.19 Dante for example does not mention Abelard in The Divine Comedy, and a writer such as Pope could say in the eighteenth century that Abelard was known mainly for his love affair with Heloise. It might therefore appear that Bernard had won hands down. But it was not quite so clear-cut. In his epitaph on Abelard, Peter the Venerable refers to him as 'the Socrates of the Gauls, the great Plato of the West, our Aristotle'. He acclaims him as a logician equal to or better than all before him, able to dominate all things by the power of reason and the art of discourse. But, he adds, he won his greatest

i $S/Peter Abelard victory when he came to Gluny and truly entered into Christ's philosophy.20 This picture of Abelard as the great thinker and intellectual who won respect as a follower of Christ in the asceticism of the monastery is painted with no reference whatever to the condemnation at Sens and its confirmation by the pope; Peter could permit himself to act in this way since he had no need to fear Bernard's wrath. But it is curious that this picture appears to correspond precisely to the general impression one has formed of Abelard. Outside the close circle of theologians and Bernard's followers, Abelard was remembered after his death as the acute thinker and the meritorious monk. Several of the monastic chroniclers who make a reference to him on the occasion of his death refer in particular to the foundation of the Paraclete.21 In many cases there is not one word about the condemnation for heresy. This goes some way to show the limited significance inquisitorial proceedings still had upon the reputation of the accused at that time. In this connection, we may call to mind what little effect the drastic sentence at Soissons in 1121 had had upon Abelard's career. Another example of this is the case of Gilbert de la Porree, who was accused of heresy in 1148 at a synod in Rheims. It is true that some of his opinions were denounced as heretical, but Gilbert himself remained unchallenged and returned home to his episcopal seat at Poitiers, where he remained until his death without his prestige having suffered the least damage. We must consequently be on guard against over-estimating the interest in, or the importance of, theological disputes. The Church in general, and this means first and foremost the ordinary clergy and the monasteries, were only very little affected by these matters; they were impressed by Abelard's acuteness and knowledge, but this apart his contributions as a monk and as the founder of a monastery were better understood. Such recognition was not however sufficient to keep his name alive in the memory of later times; there were many monks and founders of monasteries, and not a few with a far greater reputation than Abelard. A renown such as his would necessarily be of a fairly local nature, and only to a limited extent could it survive those who had seen or heard him in the flesh. It was as a thinker that Abelard himself wished to be known, and it was indeed as a

Epilogue/159 thinker that he is recognized by posterity, although until the end of the nineteenth century there was ignorance of this aspect of him. In the light of the many contemporary witnesses to his unrivalled prestige, it is easy enough to conjecture that the effects of his extensive influence could not have been erased simply by a papal letter. But it was not until H. Denifle found a number of manuscripts incontestably written by disciples of Abelard that one could speak with certainty of the existence of a school of Abelard. Since then research has continued, and new finds have come to light. It can consequently be established that by about the middle of the twelfth century theology was the subject of lectures at many important seats of learning, Abelard's Theologia being the undisputed source of inspiration. On the basis of the manuscripts we now have, this influence can be traced far beyond the borders of France; disciples of Abelard have come to light in Italy, Austria and England. The important centre of study at Bologna counted several of them, including the famous Roland Bandinelli who later became Pope Alexander III.22 Among Abelard's friends at the Curia, apart from Guy of Castello (Celestine II), his comrade-in-arms at Sens, Hyacinth, also came to occupy the papal chair under the title of Celestine III. The fact that three popes and a multitude of cardinals, archbishops and bishops were among Abelard's adherents should not be taken to suggest that any kind of coherent 'Abelard party' occupied an especially prominent position in the period following 1142, but on the other hand it is a further proof of the great attraction his teaching exercised. The 'monastic' party continued the struggle against this new theology. On several occasions Abelard is conjured up to frighten and to warn. Consequently, when later the zealous William of St Thierry attacked William of Conches (one of the school of Chartres' famous philosophers), he immediately submitted to the attack, very probably because the accusation that he had been concerned in Abelard's heresies showed him where the matter would lead.28 In Germany, Gerhoch of Reichersberg was an energetic opponent of the new theology, and his antagonists included Abelard's pupils. The Victorines also produced a castigator of the former master in Walter of St Victor, who in a paper bearing the title Against the four labyrinths of France,

160/Peter Abelard dating from about 1175, described the theology of the new masters, including, besides Abelard, Peter the Lombard, as endangering the Church.24 Peter the Lombard, who ended his career as Bishop of Paris, was also at one time Abelard's pupil before he himself became a master. His most important work, The Books of the Sentences, gained enormous popularity and soon became the acknowledged theological text book at the universities. Consequently, until the end of the Middle Ages, this was the text upon which every theologian with academic ambitions had to comment at one time or another during his career. In our context, it is therefore significant that Peter the Lombard - without naming Abelard leans heavily on his books.25 But Peter is also identified with Abelard's efforts in another way. First, he uses the method set out by Abelard in Sic et non, and there is no doubt that this work was a mine of information for him and many others when it became necessary to find quotations from the Fathers to illustrate the various problems. But an influence of a negative kind can also be suggested: in his Prologue, Peter the Lombard sharply dissociates himself from all philosophy, proclaiming that he will confine himself to the Bible and the holy Fathers. We may see in this a further proof of the fear of philosophical studies aroused among masters of the period by the dispute between Abelard and Bernard; indeed, Bernard had succeeded in delaying the penetration of philosophy into theology. In addition to the Lombard's Sentences, another work should also be mentioned which has a connection with Abelard: the Summa Sententiarwn. This monograph was previously thought to be the work of Hugh of St Victor, but this is probably incorrect. There is no agreement as to whom we should consider to be the author, but in any event it originated in Parisian surroundings at about the middle of the century. Here also the arrangement of the material and many of the views expressed are influenced by Abelard. The manuscripts discovered show that this monograph had an immense dissemination, ironically enough even in the Cistercian monasteries.26 Although only few dared to mention his name, Abelard lived on. More recent research shows clearly that, in the Abelard affair, Bernard suffered a thorough defeat. He was able to destroy

Epilogue/i6i Abelard himself, but to stop the movement Abelard had started was beyond the power of Bernard or of any pope. In spite of all, it was to be Abelard and not his opponents who influenced the development of academic teaching in the period following. He was the first to sketch out a plan for a really comprehensive, independent discussion of all religious dogma. In his dialectic he had indicated a method for such a perceptive interpretation of the material handed down by his forerunners. He had also made tradition itself more comprehensible in his formidable collection of relevant material (Sic et non). In his treatment of ethical problems, he had set new tasks for his successors. In all this, he was motivated by a passionate desire to understand, which was inspired by his research into the classical tradition. His activities became a danger to the traditionalism that dominated the reform movement led by Bernard, because he would not desist when he came face to face with Christian tradition. Viewed in this perspective, his contest with Bernard illustrates one of the frequent clashes in the history of the Church, when traditionalism attempts to prevent the injection of life into tradition by a perceptive apprehension of it. The new academic trend - the twelfth century Renaissance - posed to the traditional interpretation of life a number of questions that demanded answers. Those who, under the effect of the humanism that accompanied the recrudescence of classical studies, looked upon the questions as impertinent had, in spite of resistance, to give them their attention. It is strange that these were the very people to herald the period in European thought referred to as the age of the schoolmen. Abelard is only one among many, but because of his unique influence he is one of those who contributed most to the change in the intellectual climate that led to the birth of the universities. As this movement, which he among others had set in motion, took a firmer form, some of the agitation and confusion that characterized the twelfth century disappeared. Access to the ethics and metaphysics of Aristotle created new problems, and in doing so changed the manner of approach to the problems. Impressive philosophical systems of an extent and vision far beyond what was known at the time of Abelard were created. The method that Abelard - more than any other - established was further elaborated, and was employed in theological speculations

162 / Peter Abelard of vast dimensions; but it cannot be denied that much was lost in the process. It was Abelard's difficult task to interpret Christian belief from the basis of the classical-humanist tradition. This tradition he had constantly to keep before him, for as a member of mankind he could not avoid acknowledging the heritage of the ancient world. But this interpretative task was to be replaced by the creation of an all-embracing synthesis in which the classical tradition - by now almost exclusively represented by Aristotle - was rendered harmless by becoming reduced to no more than the lowest stratum in a system of thought crowned by divine authority. Occupied with the erection of this system — and in time also with pulling it down again Abelard's successors completely forgot that his concept had been that the relationship between the Christian faith and classical tradition poses a problem that can only be determined historically, in the sense that the solution can never be passed on but must be sought anew by each generation. But it was also forgotten that the problem was one of interpreting Revelation in the light of man's constantly changing circumstances; instead, the schoolmen sought to create a rational system of a timeless character - and they themselves brought about its collapse even before the intervention of external criticism in the form of humanism and reformation. In another historical perspective, however, it was decisive that the work started by Abelard and those similarly disposed continued as an unceasing movement. Authority had been made the subject of question, and the questioning could not again be silenced. Although much of what occupied the thinkers of the Middle Ages seems strange to us, it would be foolish to feel certainly to express - any superiority in relation to these men. They were trying to unravel the same human condition that concerns us, and in their endeavours they were neither better nor worse than we are. No 'development', no 'advance', is of any help here. The conflict between Bernard and Abelard was an expression of two completely different concepts of life; most of us alive today would probably find it difficult to identify ourselves with either of them. We think in a different way, we understand existence in a manner different from them; but even so, to be different is not to be either better or more correct.

GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY

It is not the intention to set out here a comprehensive or fully representative bibliography, as this does not correspond to the nature of this study, but to indicate, in general, easily accessible literature for a further study of the subject. Particular points raised in the text are discussed in the notes to each chapter which follow the bibliography. Editions marked with an asterisk * are in paperback. The abbreviation of the titles of books referred to in the notes is indicated by the use of square brackets [ ], enclosing that part of the reference which will be omitted.

GENERAL WORKS F. Coppleston, History of Philosophy (London 1952). A. Fliche and V. Martin, Histoire de Veglise, VIII, IX, XIII (Paris 1946, 1948, 1951). J. de Ghellinck, La literature latine an moyen age (Paris 1939). [E.] Gilson, [History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages] (London 1955). , L'esprit de la philosophic medievale (2. ed. Paris 1944; Eng. trans. New York 1948). [M.] Grabmann, [Die Geschichte der Scholastische Methods] (Freiburg-im-Breisgau 1909, 1911). C. H. Haskins, The Rise of Universities (New York 1923, repr. 1957*). M. D. Knowles, The Evolution of Medieval Thought (London 1962). J. Leclercq, Vamour des lettres et le desir de dieu (Paris 1957). M. Manitius, Geschichte der Lateinischen Literatur des Mittelalters (Leipzig 1911-1931).

i64/Peter Abelard H. Rashdall, The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, ed. F. M. Powicke and A. B. Emden (Oxford 1936). [R.] Seeberg [Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte, III] (3. ed. Leipzig 1913). B. Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (2. ed. Oxford 1952). R. W. Southern, The Making of the Middle Ages (London 1953, repr. 1967*). [F.] Ueberweg- [B. Geyer, Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie, Die Patristische und Scholastische Philosophic] (11. ed. Berlin 1928, repr. Basel 1951). M. de Wulf, Histoire de la philosophic medievale (6. ed. Louvain 1934-1947, Eng. trans. London 1935-47). Dictionnaire de theologie catholique. Dictionnaire d'histoire et de geographic ecclesiastique.

THE TWELFTH-CENTURY RENAISSANCE [M-D.] Chenu, [La theologie an douzieme siecle] (Paris 1957). [J-F.] Genest, [Les tnoralistes antiques chez les humanistes et les mystiques du xiie siecle] (Poitiers 1957, typescript). [J. de] Ghellinck, L'essor de la litterature latine au xiie siecle (Brussels and Paris 1946). —— [Le tnouvement theologique du xiie siecle] (2 ed. Bruges 1948). [C. H.] Haskins, [The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century] (Cambridge, Mass., 1927, repr. New York 1957*). , Studies in the History of Medieval Science (Cambridge, Mass., 1924). A. M. Landgraf, Einfiihrung in die Geschichte der Theologischen Literatur der Frtihscholastik (Ratisbon 1948). , Dogmengeschichte der Fruhscholastife, I-IV (Ratisbon I 95 2ff.).

[L.] Ott, ['UntersuchungenzurTheologischenBriefliteraturder Friihscholastik'], Beitrage [zur Geschichte der Philosophie wnd Theologie des Mittelalters], XXXIV (Munster 1937).

Bibliography /i 65 [G.] Pare, [A. Brunet and P. Tremblay, La renaissance du xiie siecle. Les ecoles et I'enseignement] (Paris 1933). [R. L] Poole, [Illustrations of the History of Medieval Thought and Learning] (2. ed. Oxford 1920, repr. 1960). R van Steenberghen, Aristotle in the West (Louvain 1955).

ST ANSELM OF CANTERBURY [S.] Anselmi Opera [Omnia], I-VI, ed. F. S. Schmitt (Rome and Edinburgh 1958-61). Eadmer, The Life of St Anselm, ed. R, W. Southern (Edinburgh 1962. , Historutn novorum in anglia, trans. G. Bosanquet (London 1964). R. W. Southern, St Anselm and his Biographer (Cambridge 1963). R. W. Church, St Anselm (London 1870). A. Wilmart, Auteurs spirituels et textes devots du moyen age latin (Paris 1932).

ST BERNARD [S.] Bernardi, Opera, [ed. }. P.] Migne, [Patrologiae cursus completes series latina], CLXXXII-CLXXXV (Paris 1879). A new edition of St Bernard's works is in course of preparation. To date four volumes have appeared: Sancti Bernardi opera I, 'Sermones super Cantica Canticorum', 1-35, ed. J. Leclercq, C. H. Talbot, H. M. Rochais (Rome 1957), II, 'Sermones super Cantica Canticorum', 36-86, ed. J. Leclercq, C. H. Talbot, H. M. Rochais and C. Mohrmann (Rome 1958), III, 'Tractatus et opuscula', ed. J. Leclercq and H. M. Rochais (Rome 1963), IV, 'Sermones' I, ed. J. Leclercq and H. M. Rochais (Rome 1966).

166/Peter Abelard St Bernard's letters have been translated by B. S. James, The Letters of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux (London 1953). The standard biographies are still: [E.] Vacandard, [Vie de St Bernard] (Paris 1894, repr. 1920). W. Williams, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux (Manchester 1935, repr. 1952). See also: [E.] Gilson, [The] Mystical Theology [of Saint Bernard] (London 1944, repr. 1955. This work has been used as the basis for the discussion of Bernard's theology in Chapter VI. [R.] Klibansky, [*Peter Abailard and Bernard of Clairvaux', 'A Letter by Abailard'], Medieval and Renaissance Studies V (London 1961). The occasion, in 1953, of the eighth centenary of Bernard's death saw the production of a number of important collections dealing with the saint's life and writings: [Bernhard von Clairvaux], Monch and Mystifeer, [Internationaler Bernhard-kongress, Mainz 1953] (Wiesbaden 1955)[J.] Leclercq, 'Etudes [sur Saint Bernard et le texte de ses ecrits'], Analecta Sacri Ordinis Cisterciensis, IX, 1-2 (Rome 1953)* 'Saint Bernard Theologien', Analecta sacri ordinis cisterciensis9 IX, 3-4 (Rome 1953). Bernard de Clairvaux, 'Commission d'histoire de L'ordre de citeaux III' (Dijon 1953). 'Melanges Saint Bernard', xxive Congres de Vassociation bourguignonne des societes savantes (Dijon 1953). In these collections see particularly: [}.] Leclercq, ['S. Bernard et la] theologie monastique [du xhe siecle'], in Saint Bernard theologien, pp. 7-28. [E.] Kleineidam, ['Wissen, Wissenschaft, Theologie bei Bernhard von Clairvaux, P] in Monch und Mystifeer.

Bibliography /i 67

ABELARD [Petri] Abaelardi Opera, [ed. V. Cousin], 2 vols (Paris 1849, 1859). [Ouvrages inedites d'Abelard, ed. V.] Cousin (Paris 1836). Petri Abelardi Opera, Migne CLXXVIII (Paris 1855). [B.] Geyer, ['Peter Abaelards Philosophische Schriften'], Beitrage XXI, i-iv (Miinster 1919-33). [H.] Ostlender, ['P. Abalards] Theologia Summi Boni', [Beitrage etc] XXXV, ii-iii (Miinster 1936). , ['Die] Theologia Scholarium [des P. Abalards', in Aus der Geisteswelt des Mittelalters], Beitrage Suppl. Ill (Miinster 1935)* [L. M. de] Rjik, [Dialectica], Wijsgerige Teksten en Stud (Assen 1956). [P.] Ruf [and M.] Grabmann, ['Ein Neuaufgefundenes Bruchstiick der Apologia Abaelards']. Sitztwgsberichte der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Pfiilologischhistorische Abt., Heft V (Munich 1930). F. P. G. Guizot, Abailard et Helotse, Essai historique, suivie des lettres d'Abailard et d'Heloise (Paris 1856). M. de Gandillac, Oewvres choistes d'Abelard (Paris 1945). E. Gilson and J. T. Muckle, Abelard's Letter of Consolation to a Friend 'Historia Calamitaturn', Medieval Studies XII (Toronto 1950). [J. Monfrin], H[istoria] C[alamitatum] (Paris 1959). J. T. Muckle, The Story of Abelarcfs Adversities (Toronto 1954). , 'The Personal Letters of Abelard and Heloise', Medieval Studies XV (Toronto 1953). William of St Thierry, [Opera], Migne CLXXX (Paris 1855). Otto of Freising, [The Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa], trans. C. C. Mierow and R. Emery (New York 1953). [John of Salisbury], Metalogicon, [trans. D. D. McGarry] (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1955). , The Historia Ponti/icalis, trans. M. Chibnall (Edinburgh 1956). 'Chronicum Mauriniacense', ed. G. Waitz, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum, XXVI (Hanover 1882), pp. 37-45.

i68/Peter Abelard J. R. McCallum, Abelard9s Christian Theology (Oxford 1948). [J.] Cottiaux ['La conception de la theologie chez Abelard'], Revue d'histoire ecclesiastique, XXVIII (Louvain 1932), pp. 147-95*533-51*788-828. [H.] Ostlender, ['Die] Sentenzenbiicher [der Schule Abaelards'], Theologische Quartalschrift, CXVII (Tubingen 1936). [N. A.] Sidorova, ['Abelard et son epoque'], Cahiers d'histoire mondiale (Paris 1958). [J. G.] Sikes, [Peter Abelard] (Cambridge 1932). E. Gilson, Heloise et Abelard, 2. ed. (Paris 1948). [A.] Borst, ['Abalard and Bernhard], Historische Zeitschrift, CLXXXVI (Munich 1958), pp. 497-526. [J-M.] Dechanet, ['L'Amitie d'Abelard et de Guillaume de Saint Thierry'], Revue d'histoire ecclesiastique, XXXV (Louvain 1939). D. Van den Eynde, 'Details biographiques sur Pierre Abelard', Antonianum, XXXVIII (Rome 1963), pp. 22off. David Knowles, 'The Humanism of the Twelfth Century', repr. in The Historian and Character (Cambridge 1963), pp. 16-30. [M. M.] Mclaughlin, ['Abelard as Autobiographer: The Motives and Meaning of his "Story of Calamities"'], Speculum, XLII, 3 (Cambridge, Mass., 1967), pp. 463-88. [J. R.] Martin, ['Pro Petro Abaelardo. Un plaidoyer de Robert de Melun contre Saint Bernard'], Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Theologiques, XII (Paris 1923), pp. 308-33. [A. R.] Motte, ['Une Fausse Accusation contre Abelard et Arnaud de Brescia'], Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Theologiques, XXII (Paris 1933). [J.] Riviere, ['Les "capitula" d'Abelard condamnes au concile de Sens'], Recherches de Theologie Ancienne et Medievale, V (Louvain 1933), pp. 5-22. [M-B. Carra de Vaux] Saint-Cyr, ['Disputatio catholicorum patrum adversus dogmata Petri Abaelardi'], Revue des sciences philosophiques et theologiques, XLVII (Paris 1963). [R.] Oursel, [La Dispute et la Grace. Essai sur la Redemption d'Abelard] (Paris 1959). A full account of the literature relating to Abelard can be found in Ghcllinck, pp. i49ff., 278!!. Reference to more recent litera-

Bibliography /i 69 ture on Abelard can be found in Mclaughlin, art. cit. References to most of the literature relating to the dispute between Abelard and Bernard can be found in Borst There is as yet no modern critical edition of all Abelard's works. Recent editions of, and work on, Abelard's philosophical and theological works are referred to above. For the rest, Cousin's work, Abaelardi Opera (above), has been used. A new edition and translation of the letters of Heloise and Abelard is in preparation by Professor R. W. Southern.

THE SYNOD OF SENS AND ITS AFTERMATH (a) The Synod The most important sources are: Abelard: 'Letter to his Friends and Disciples' (see n. 17, Ch. VII). Bernard: ep. 187 ('To the Bishops in France, Before the Synod'), ep. 189 ('To the Pope, with a Report on the Synod'), ep. 338 ('To Cardinal Haimeric, After the Synod'), All in Migne CLXXXII. Henry of Sens (and his fellow bishops): ep. 337 ('To the Pope, on the Synod'), Migne CLXXXII. Samson of Rheims (and his fellow bishops): ep. 191 ('To the Pope, on the Synod'), ibid. Geoffrey of Auxerre: in the 'Vita Bernardi', Migne CLXXXV,cols3io-i2. Berengar of Poitiers: 'Apologeticus' (apologia for Abelard), Abadardi Opera II, pp. 77iff. These last two are eye-witness accounts. There are no official documents of the Synod. (b) The Aftermath Abelard: Letter and Confessio fidei to Heloi'se, handed down by Berengar in his Apologeticus (see above). Abaelardi Opera I, pp. 68off. The Dialogue between a Philosopher, a Jew and a Christian, ibid. II, pp. 643-718.

i jo/Peter Abelard Innocent II: Two letters of July 16, 1140, to Samson of Rheims, Henry of Sens, and Bernard, Migne CLXXIX. Peter the Venerable: Letter to Innocent II concerning Abelard, Abaelardi Opera I, p. 709. Two letters to Heloise, ibid. I, pp. 710-14, 716. Epitaph on Abelard, ibid. I, pp. 7173. Heloise: Letter to Peter the Venerable, ibid. I, p. 715. Berengar of Poitiers: Apologeticus (see above).

NOTES

CHAPTER 1 1. See H-T. Marrou, Saint Augustiti et la fin de la culture antique, Bibliotneque des ecoles franfaise d'Athenes et de Rome, fasc. 145 (1938). 2. Sidorova, pp. 541-542. 3. See Pare, pp. i8ff. A corresponding development took place in Italy, where the study of law in particular flourished, with Bologna as its centre. 4. Pare, pp. 11 off.; Grabtnann, II, pp. I3ff. 5. Translated from Anselmi Opera, I, pp. 100, 155. 6. See Anselmi Opera, II, pp. 6-7 ('Epistola de incarnatione verbi'). 7. See Grabtnann, I, pp. 2855. 8. ibid. pp. 31 iff. 9. Seeberg, pp. i63ff. 10. The following is based on Kleineidam, pp. 128-167. 11. The examples are taken from Chenu, pp. 343ff. 12. I owe the following characterization of the difference between monastic and scholastic theology to Leclercq, Theologie Monastique, pp. 7-28. 13. See Klibansky's commentaries on this. 14. The most important investigation of the epistolary literature of the period is that of Ott, op. cit. 15. See, in this connection, Hasfeins, ch. VI, 'Latin Poetry', pp. CHAPTER 2 1. For contemporary references to Abelard, Ghellinck, pp. 278ff. may be consulted. All necessary references may be found here. 2. HC, Ch. I. 3. See Pare, p. 106. 4. Roscelin left no philosophical writings, at least none that we know of. His viewpoint is known solely from the polemics against him of Ansehn of Canterbury and Abelard. That Abelard was his pupil, however, appears to be proved by an existing letter from Roscelin to Abelard (see p. 75 below). Apart from

172 /Peter Abelard this, Abelard refers several times in his writings to Roscelin as his teacher. 5. HC,Ch.II. 6. ibid. 7. ibid. 8. ibid. 9. See Ghdlinck, pp. itftt. and the references there given. 10. HC, Ch. IIL 11. ibid. 12. ibid. 13. See also Pare, pp. 6jS. 14. HC,Ch.V. 15. Pare, pp. $jtt. 16. HC,Ch.V. CHAPTER 3 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

HC,Ch.VI. ibid. Abaelardi Opera I, ep. 5, from Heloi'se to Abelard. ibid. HC,Ch.VI. Abaelardi Opera I, ep. 2, from Abelard to Heloise. ibid. ibid. HC, Ch. VI. See Peter the Venerable's letter of 1142 to Heloise, Abaelardi Opera I, cols 710-714.

10. HC,Ch.VI.

11. ibid. 12. HC,Ch.VII. 13. ep. 5, loc. cit. 14. HC,Ch.V. 15. HC, Ch. VII. 16. ibid. 17. ibid. 18. For this see Genest, particularly pp. 8off. 19. HC,Ch.VII.

20. ep. 2, loc. cit. 21. 22. 23. 24.

ibid. ibid. ibid. ibid.

25. ep. 5, loc. cit.

26. HC,Ch.VIII. 27. Abaelardi Opera I, pp. 703-707, letter of canon Fulk of Deuil to Abelard. Fulk tries to persuade Abelard to abandon revenge.

Notes/17 3

28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37* 38.

The canon leads us to believe that it was Abelard's intention to conduct his own case before the papal curia. He warns him with a reference to the notorious avarice of the Roman curia. He will achieve nothing, but be robbed of everything - without justice being done to him! HC, Ch. VIII. ep. 2, loc. cit. ibid. Abaelardi Opera, I, ep. 4. ep. 2, loc. cit. ibid. ep. 4, loc. cit. ibid. ibid. e P« 5» l°c- c^t. ibid.

CHAPTER 4 1. See, for example, Vacandard, I, pp. ijSff. 2. Abaelardi Opera, I, ep. 5. See HC, Ch. XIV. Fulk of Deuil already draws the obvious comparison, Abaelardi Opera, I, p. 705. 3. HC,Ch.IX. 4. Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 15off. 5. ibid. I, pp. 798-803. Roscelin's letter anticipates Abelard's move to the Paraclete. In his introductory comments Cousin assumes that it is this letter which has made Abelard write in anger to the Bishop of Paris asking him to arrange a disputation. This is, however, improbable, although it would, of course, have been rather satisfactory to be able in this way to bring the two letters into relation witn one another. But on the other hand there is nothing in the letter to the Bishop of Paris to indicate that Abelard had already been sentenced at Soissons - quite the contrary. Moreover, an application to the Bishop of Paris would have been quite absurd if it bad originated from the Paraclete, whereas it would be quite natural from St Denis. We must, therefore, take into account an attack, unknown to us, on Abelard by Roscelin. 6. This is apparent not only from Abelard's own account in HC, Chs. IX-X; it is expressly confirmed by Otto of Freising, Bk I, Ch. XLVII - without his being given the opportunity to reply. 7. HC, Ch. X. 8. Abaelardi Opera, I, pp. 68iff. 9. ibid. I, pp. 7o8ff.

Abelard CHAPTER 5 1. Some of the philosophical writings are published in Geyer, Beitrdge. A number of glossaries on Aristotle, Porphyry and Boethius have been published by M. dal Pra (Milan 1954), and the Dialectica by L. M. de Rjik. Useful information on Abelard's logic is given in Geyer's conclusion and de Rjik's introduction. 2. See Geyer, Beitrdge, p. 630. 3. The example is taken from Gilson. 4. See also the concluding comments in Geyer, Beitrdge, and also Uebenveg, pp. 2i6ff. 5. HC, Ch. III. 6. Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 67, 73, Theologia II. In contrast to the philosophical works, there are as yet, with one exception, no theological works in a satisfactory critical edition. The exception is Ostlender, Theologia Summi Boni, which is identical with the book condemned by the Synod of Soissons in 1121. Most of the remaining theological works may be found in Abaelardi Opera. The methodical programme work Sic et Non, not included in that work, may be found in Migne CLXXVIII. 7. See below n. 29. 8. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 3, Theologia I. 9. ibid. II, pp. 72ff., Theologia II. 10. A constantly repeated theme with Abelard. See, for example, Theologia II (Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 3, 93, 97) and 'Letter to an Anti-dialectician* (ibid. I, pp. 6953.). 11. See, for example, HC, Ch. III. 12. See, for example, 'Letter to an Anti-dialectician' (n. 10 above) where Abelard, by way of introduction, uses the story of the fox and the sour grapes (which for Abelard, however, are cherries!) against the opponents of dialectic. 13. HC,Ch.IX. 14. Anselmi Opera, II, pp. 39ff. Letter to Pope Urban II together with the presentation of the treatise Cur Deus homo. 15. Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 9-10, Theologia I: 'The faith is indeed catholic, that is to say universal, which is so necessary for all that nobody can be saved without it/ 16. ibid. II, p. 83, Theologia II. 17. HC, Ch. IX. 18. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 67, Theologia II. 19. ibid. II, p. 72, Theologia II. 20. ibid. II, pp. 28fL, Theologia I. 21. See the informative table, in Abaelardi Opera, II, of those auctores cited by Abelard. 22. See Sikes, p. 66 and Chenu, pp. 32ff., 12iff.

Notes/175 23. In the Dialectica he rejects the identification of the Holy Ghost with anima mundi (Rjik, pp. 5585.). For the growing scepticism towards the philosophers' general concept of God see Cotticwx, pp. zSofL 24. The dating problems are difficult - see Cottiawx's careful research (op. cit., pp. 28off.). The sequence, however, is quite certain: Theologia Summi Eoni - Theologia Christiana - Theologia. The last-named, following an erroneous manuscript note, is often referred to as Introductio ad Theologiam. For the transmission of manuscripts and the conclusions to be drawn from them as to the different versions of Abelard's works see Ostlender, Theologia Scholarium, pp. 262-81. 25. See Ghcllinck, pp. 83, 9 iff; Cottiaux, p. 270. 26. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 12, Theologia I. 27. ibid. II, p. 93, Theologia II. 28. ibid. II, p. 447, Theologia Christiana III, 29. ibid. II, pp. 88ff., Theologia II. 30. ibid. II, p. 67, Theologia II. 31. ibid. II, p. 79, Theologia II. 32. ibid. II, pp. I2ff., Theologia I. 33. ibid. II, pp. 97-102, Theologia II. 34. ibid. II, pp. 100-102, Theologia II. 3 5. See Ostlender, Theologia Summi Boni, p. 94. 36. Sifees, p. 149. 37. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 462, Theologia Christiana III. 38. ibid. II, pp. 115-119, Theologia III. 39. ibid. II, pp. 120-132, Theologia III. 40. ibid. II, pp. 142-145, Theologia III. 41. The supposition, frequently repeated in older literature, that part of the Theologia has been lost, can now be rejected on the basis of Ostlender's work on the manuscripts (see n. 24 above). 42. Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 206-207, 'Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans'. 43. ibid. II, p. 207. 44. ibid., p. 596, Ethica. 45. ibid. II, p. 599. 46. ibid. II, pp. 6ooff. 47. ibid. II, pp. 6o2ff. 48. ibid. II, pp. 6145. 49. ibid. II, pp. 6i5ff. 50. ibid. II, p. 618.

ij6/Peter Abelard CHAPTER 6 As the information given in this chapter concerning Bernard's life and activities may be easily found in any biography, and as the account of his thought is aerived entirely from existing literature, particularly Gilson, Mystical Theology, this chapter is not provided with consecutive notes. CHAPTER 7 1. In support of the theory that the Theologia was written during Abelard's period at the raraclete it has been pointed out that the towns mentioned are located around the Paraclete, and that the names of the four masters, in Abelard's opinion heretics, given in Book II also fit in geographically with this location. See Cottiaux, p. 257. 2. Metalogicon, BK II, Ch. 10. 3. William of St Thierry, cols 249-282. 4. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 326. 5. See Klibansky, p. 11. 6. HCCh.XII. 7. Abelard mocks Norbert and his 'fellow apostle' Farsitus in a malicious manner in a sermon - Abaelardi Opera, I, p. 590, Sermon XXXIII. 8. Borst seeks, in a rather artificial manner, to prove that the two 'apostles' were Norbert and Farsitus (n. 7 above), whom he wishes to identify with Norbert's successor as abbot-general, Hugh of Fosse. However, it is not easy to see why, in that case, Abelard should refer to, and distinguish between, these two Premonstratensians as the leaders of regular canons and monks. See Borst, pp. 5oiff. 9. Migne CLXXXII, col. 1031, Bernard, De Baptistno. 10. Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 6i8ff. This letter to Bernard begins with a few words about Heloi'se and the nuns having received Bernard not as a man, but as an angel. Abelard also speaks of the affection which Bernard has for him. Then, however, he comes to the point, and after a long explanation ends by saying that he is standing firm on his position. In fact, no useful conclusion as to their relationship can be arrived at on the basis of this letter. 11. See Borst, p. 504. 12. Chronicum Mauriniacense, pp. 4off. 13. Dechanet, pp. 761-774. 14. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 326.

Notes/177 15. The work referred to here is unknown to us. From Ostlender's comparison of the known works of Abelard's disciples, however, it is clear that besides the Theologia they have another source in common. There is scarcely any doubt tnat this is the book that Bernard refers to as Liber Sententiarum. See Ostlender Sentenzenbiicher, pp. 208-252. 16. Otto of Freising, a Cistercian, says, however, of Bernard, in connection with the Abelard matter in particular, that he was always very willing to believe denunciations of heresy. Otto of Freising, Bk I, Ch.XLVII. 17. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 327. 18. According to Geoffrey of Auxerre, Bernard's biographer, Abelard is said to have promised in repentance to correct his teaching, but prompted by evil advisors to have abandoned this undertaking after Bernard had left. Geoffrey also ascribes a part in his altered decision to Abelard's misplaced confidence in his own skill in debate. See Migne CLXXXV, col. 311, Vita Prima Bernard!, Bk III, Ch. V, 14. A letter to the pope from the archbishop of Sens and his suffragans (a report of the Synod of Sens 1140) says that Bernard initially cautioned Abelard secretly, and then, following the advice of the Gospel, in the presence of two or three witnesses. This he was supposed to have done in all friendliness - arnicabiliter satis et familiariter. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 337. A letter only recently published (Leclercq, Etudes, pp. 1045.; Klibansky, art. cit.) from Abelard to his friends, written immediately before tne synod, says that until then Bernard had )fessed to be a friend, indeed a very firm friend - amicissimus. is appears to confirm that the discussions between Abelard and Bernard took place in a friendly atmosphere. It is against this background that Abelard considered Bernard's action to be an act of treachery. 19. See Geoffrey of Auxerre, n. 18 above. 20. See Borst, pp. 5o8ff. 21. Klibansky, pp. 6ff. See n. 18 above. 22. Migne CLXXXII, cols. 8535., 'De Conversione ad Clericos'. See also the bishops' report to the pope on the Synod of Sens (n. 18 above), which refers to Bernard's action towards Abelard's pupils. After mentioning the meetings between Abelard and Bernard it continues - 'He [Bernard] also requested of several of the students that they should surrender and reject the books, which were full of poison, and that they should abstain from a teaching which was harmful to the Catholic faith/ This praiseworthy effort on the part of the pious abbot was certainly well suited to emphasize his merits to the pope, but not to strengthen his credit with Abelard! 23. See Ostlender, Theologia Scholarium, pp. 272ff., and n. 24, Ch. V

K

i j8/Peter Abelard above. The fourth version is identical with the printed text* According to Ostlender, op. cit. William and Bernard have both used the third version. 24. Borst (p. 510, n. 3) has objected to the interpretation of ep. 330 as a draft of ep. 189. He points out that Abelard is compared to a dragon in both places. In ep. 330, however, the dragon is lying in wait, whereas in ep. 189 it has clearly appeared. This, however, does not prove that two separate letters are involved. Ep. 330 might be considered as a draft, dating from before Sens, and ep. 189 as the final, edited and despatched version - Borst refers to other instances of drafting and subsequent correction. It is doubtful, too, whether, as Borst believes, ep. 330 is an actual letter from the period before the Synod of Sens, since it contains some lines which are incomprehensible if they were written at that time. After a short description of Abelard's heresy, ep. 330 reads as follows: 'But in all this he [Abelard] boasts that he has opened the sources of knowledge to the cardinals and priests of the Curia, that he has placed his books and sentences in the hands and hearts of the Romans, and in defence of his error he looks to those by whom he ought to be judged, and condemned. In what spirit, with what conscience, do you seek refuge with the defender of the Faith, you persecutor of the Faith? How can you be so brazen, show such effrontery, in paying such attention to the friend of the Bridegroom [the Pope], you ravisher of the Bride [the Church]? If only the care of my brethren did not detain me, my bodily weakness prevent me! How I desire to see the friend of the Bridegroom fighting on the Bride's behalf in the absence of the Bridegroom!' Then follows a request to the pope to defend the Bride of Christ. This section appears to me to be incomprehensible if it does not imply a knowledge of Abelard's appeal to Rome at the Synod of Sens. It cannot be objected that the letter does not expressly refer to this appeal: letters were being despatched, at the same time, by the bishops to the pope with an official report on the rogress of the Synod. Bernard's ardent wish to see the pope efend the Church and to remain firm towards the heretic, which official duties and bad health prevented he himself from doing, only makes sense if it was foreseen that Abelard would soon arrive at Rome. Consequently, Borst's interpretation must be rejected. Ep. 330 is only a draft, and from the period after Sens. 25. This refers to ep. 192 (to Cardinal Guy of Castello), 193 (Cardinal Ivo), 331 (Cardinal Stephen), 332 (Cardinal G -) and perhaps 336 (an abbot). Letter 338 (to Cardinal Haimeric, the papal

S

Notes/179

26.

27.

28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46.

Chancellor) has the same general character, but certain features clearly foreshadow the events at Sens. It can therefore be assumed that the letter was drafted before the Synod, but not despatched until afterwards. This list is mentioned in ep. 190 (Migne CLXXXII, col. 1072), the 'Treatise on the Errors of Abelard', and also in Abelard's letter to his friends (see n. 18 above), but is not known to us. It has recently been announced, however, that the list can be found in more than twenty-five manuscripts of Bernard's letters. See Leclercq, Etudes, pp. loiff. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 188. In this Bernard mentions 'the book that he, Abelard, calls the Theologia', and later refers to 'that other book which they call the 9Book of the Sentences and also the one entitled Know Thyself . However, he makes a distinction here between 'that he calls' and 'which they call'. Is this a claim that the Book of Sentences is of the same kind as the other two mentioned? Abelard later denied that he had ever written a book called the Book of Sentences. Leclercq, Etudes, p. 102, notes that Bernard's list of Abelard's errors, which follows ep. 190, has the following concluding comment: 'Haec capitula partim in libro Theologiae, partim in libro Sententiarum magistri Petri, partim in libro cuius titulus Scito teipsum reperta sunk' Klibansfey, p. 19. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 193. ibid. ep. 183, 332. ibid. ep. 332. ibid. ep. 193. ibid. ep. 332. ibid. ep. 193, 331. ibid. ep. 193. ibid. ep. 331. ibid. ep. 193. ibid. ibid. ep. 331. ibid. ep. 336. ibid. ep. 190, Treatise on the Errors of Abelard. ibid, cols 1055,1059 (the second Aristotle), 1066. ibid, cols io62ff. This question will be examined later. Migne CLXXXII, cols ivjoft. Ostlender, Theologia Scholarium (see n. 24, Ch. V above), has dealt briefly with these alterations. I hope to be able to publish a more detailed investigation later.

i So/Peter Abelard CHAPTER 8 1. Seen. 18,Ch. VII. 2. See Bernard's tract to the pope, Migne CLXXXII, col. 1061. 3. The two editors of the letter do not agree on who appealed to the archbishop to ask him to summon Bernard. Lcclercq, Etudes, believes it was the friends; Klibansky, on the other hand, has hitherto thought that it was Abelard himself. It depends on whether one reads iuxta petitions™ vestram or nostram, according to your request - according to our request (that is, Abelard's). To me, it does not appear to be particularly important. If Abelard's friends made the application they probably did so with Abelard's approval. Perhaps, however, Klibansky's reading is the more likely: both Bernard and the archbishop in their letters to the pope (ep. 189, 337) made Abelard the person responsible. 4. This list, now rediscovered (see n. 26, Ch. VII), is missing completely from manuscripts deriving from Clairvaux. Lechrcq, Etudes, suggests that this may be because it was wished to protect Bernard's reputation, later assailed by Abelard's Apologia. At all events this disappearance is interesting, and it seems that someone's conscience was not very clear, 5. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 182. o. See ibid. ep. 189. 7. In the letter, Bernard gives two parallel reasons for his refusal. He refused first because he could only be regarded as a child in a disputation such as this, whereas Abelard had been trained as a dialectician for such disputations since his earliest youth, and secondly because he considered it unworthy to make faith, which rests on certain and immovable truth, the subject of disputation. Bernard does not seem to see that the latter makes the first reason redundant. Why does he adduce it? Because it is the true reason for his refusal, whereas the other is to confirm to himself that he ought not to do what he dares not do - a text-book example of the psychological mechanism that we call rationalization. 8. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 189. In this, Bernard probably alludes to the letter from Abelard referred to. As that letter clearly suggests a knowledge of Bernard's tract to the pope, we can be certain that Abelard's appeal at Seur was preceded by Bernard's action in Rome. 9. See ibid. ep. 189, 337 (the Archbishop of Sens' report to the pope), 10. ibid ibid.. ep ep.. 187. 11. It is doubtful whether anything, apart from incompatibility with

Notes/i8i

12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18.

Bernard, united Abelard and Arnold. Otto of Freising, it is true, says that Arnold had been Abdard's disciple, but it is probable that he was only in France once, in 1139-40. This is clearly attested by John of Salisbury, who was himself in Paris at the time. For further details see Motte, pp. 27-46. See Migne CLXXXII, ep. 189. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 772, the Apologeticus of Berengar of Poitiers. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 189, 338. Apart from Berengar the negotiations preceding the Synod are attested by the Archbishop of Sens, ep. 337. Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 772!!. Vacandard, II, p. 147. Geoffrey of Auxerre maintains that Abelard appealed in a moment of distraction in order to gain time (Migne CLXXXV, col. 311). In ep. 189 (Migne CLXXXII), Bernard maintains that Abelard interrupted the reading out of the capitula and refused to listen to them, but here his evidence is in conflict with that of Geoffrey of Auxerre and of the Archbishop of Sens (ep. 337). See Geoffrey of Auxerre, loc. cit., and the letters of the Archbishops of Sens and Rheims to the pope, Migne CLXXXII, ep.

19. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 775. 20. See Bernard's letter to the pope, Migne CLXXXII, ep. 189. 21. The quotation reads: 'Nam tita res agitur, paries cum proximus ardet.' See Geoffrey of Auxerre, Migne CLXXXV, col. 312. 22. An interesting description of this matter, of such little credit to Bernard, is given in Poole, pp. 1565. The cardinals present at the Synod of Rheims refused to agree to a secret meeting before the Synod, pointing out that this was the same method which Bernard had employed at Sens against Abelard. The abbot's methods were now Known, and he was, indeed, completely unsuccessful in repeating against Gilbert what he had been lucky enough to succeed in against Abelard. 23. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 191 (Letter of the Province of Rheims). 24. ibid. ep. 337. 25. ibid. ep. 189. 26. ibid. ep. 338. 27. Besides ep. 338, ep. 333, 334 and 335, to different cardinals, are relevant. 28. The long-standing disagreement among students of Abelard about the number and content of the capitula may be considered to have been resolved by Riviere. 29. Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 719-723. 30. Ruf-Grabroann. 31. In Confessio fidei (Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 772), Abelard quotes Bernard as follows: 'These "capitula" are in part found in the

i8x/Peter Abelard

32. 33. 34. 35.

36.

Book of Theology, in part in master Peter's Book of Sentences, and in part in the book of which the title is Know Thyself/ These very words do in fact follow Bernard's list of capitula, and there is, consequently, good reason to assume that Abelard had this before him. See Leclercq, Etudes, pp. ioiff., and n. 26, Ch. VII above. SeeBorst, p. 514. William of St Thierry, cols 257, 259; Bernard, Migne CLXXXII, cols 1056, 10595. See the text of the Apologia (Ruf-Grabmann, pp. ioff.). In Confessio fidei Abelard says that he detests the first sentence which he considers not only heretical but satanic (Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 720). The fragment breaks off just as Abelard begins the refutation of the second sentence: 'That the Holy Ghost is not of (ex) the substance of the Father'. Here also there is a misunderstanding, as is apparent from William's and Bernard's attacks (Migne CLXXX, cols 262ff.; CLXXXII, cols io56ff.) and Abelard's reply in the fourth and fifth versions of the Theologia. It would lead us too far to go into the question in more detail here. Suffice it to say that Aoelard had no thought of denying that the three Persons of the Trinity are of the same, indeed of one, substance. The expression criticized serves to distinguish the Son from the Holy Spirit, and is explained in more detail by considerations of linguistic logic. It is understandable that Abelard's speculations on the anima mundi concept should give rise to criticism, but when this leads to the Holy Ghost being the World Soul (see William of Thierry, cols 2655., and the capitula) this again is a misunderstanding. It is, of course, not quite the same to say, as Abelard does, that Plato in the concept of an anima mundi faintly perceives the Holy Ghost, and that the Holy Ghost is the World Soul. Abelard never said the latter, and he gave up the former. There is more substance in the fifth sentence: 'That neither God, nor man, nor the person who is Christ is the third person of the Trinity*. It was William of Thierry who drew attention to this problem (cols 2775.). It is quite clear that Abelard's theory of the immutability of God presents difficulties for him when he has to explain that Christ has become man. How can it be said, he asks in the third book of the Theologia, that the Word became flesh or God became man, for the Word, since it was God before the Incarnation, is Spirit, while man is physical? His answer to this is that God in the proper sense (proprie) cannot be said to be man or flesh, otherwise man also, conversely, could be said to be God: this cannot be said of anything created, since everything that is created has a beginning. The immutability of God must be strictly insisted upon (Abaelardi Opera,

Notes/i83

37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44.

II, pp. 1365.). We do not find here the claim that William of St Thierry complains about, but it cannot be denied that the content of this complaint is the consequence of what is adduced. The Person Who is Christ means, after all, the Incarnate: God and Man. It would be difficult for Abelard to say of Him that He is the third Person of the Trinity. This can only be said of the Word, which, in its unity with human nature, is also immutably preserved. It may be said, then, that it is difficult for Abelard to see Christ as a man. In the Incarnation, also, it is God's eternal wisdom and Word which preoccupy him. In this he is vastly different from William of St Thierry and Bernard whose thoughts on humility concentrate upon Jesus the Man in His historical form. Consequently they are intent upon the suffering of the God-man as a model of humility, while Abelard sees in the sufferings of Christ primarily the revelation of God's love. The difference is clear enough and had to lead, of course, to the rejection of Abelard by Bernard and William. William of Thierry, cols 28iff. 'Commentary on the Roman Letter' (Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 238); Ethica (ibid. II, p. 616). 'Commentary on the Roman Letter' (ibid. II, p. 243). Anselmi Opera, I, cols 259ff., (De cast* diaboli, Ch. XVI). 'Commentary on the Roman Letter' (Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 246). William of St Thierry, coL 282. See above pp. n6ff. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 332, states that Abelard had put 'aquas furtivas et panes absconditos' before his domestics (domesticos). In Confessio fidei (Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 720) Abelard claimed that his teaching had never contained 'aquas furtivas vel panem absconditum'. These are both references to the Vulgate (Proverbs IX, 17), where the verse reads: 'Aquae furtivae dulciores sunt, et panis absconditus suavior' (Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant).

CHAPTER 9 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Migne CLXXIX, cols 515-517. In a letter to a cardinal, see Abaelardi Opera, I, p. 70. SeeBorst,p. 523. Migne CLXXXII, ep. 337. Letter to Innocent II (see above); see letter to Heloise, Abaelardi Opera, I, p. 713 (penultimate line). 6. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 645. 7. ibid. I, cols 710-714.

i84/PeterAbelard 8. ibid.

9. See ibid. I, col 710. 10. Abaelardi Opera, I, p. 715. 11. ibid. I, pp. 7i6ff. Strangely enough, Astrolabius is not mentioned at all in the correspondence between Abelard and Heloise. Evidence of Abelard's preoccupation with his son can be found in a long didactic poem to him, ibid. I, pp. 3406:. 12. ibid. I, ep. 4. 13. Berengar of Poitiers, Apologeticus, Abaelardi Opera, II, pp. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

,

tbtd. Abaelardi Opera, II, p. 778. ibid. II, pp. 786ff. The dispute also had a sequel on the opposing side. Abelard's Apologia, which was of course directed at Bernard, was countered by an anonymous person who wrote at the request of the Archbishop of Rouen. It is to be found, erroneously, among William of St Thierry's works (cols 2835.). Saint-Cyr is of the opinion that the anonymous dispwtatio was written by Thomas, Abbot of Morigny, as an answer to Abelard's great Apologia. Otirsel argues that the anonymous disputatio and Abelard's Apologia must have been written before the Council at Sens (see in particular 'Note critique', pp. 8gft.). It appears, however, that Oursel does not know the fragment of the Apologia published by Ruf-Grabtnann, and therefore his conclusions are arrived at on an insufficient basis. The fragment indisputably proves that the nineteen propositions that were condemned at Sens are axiomatic for Abelard's Apologia. See Martin. See the comments in Ruf-Grabtnann, pp. 29fF. Abaelardi Opera, I, col. 717. SeePoole,pp. i7iff. See Ostlender, Sentenzenbucher (see n. 14, Ch. I). For further references see Ghellinck, p. 1 58, n. 2. See William of St Thierry's treatise against William of Conches (Migne CLXXX, cols 333-340). See Ghellinck, p. 153, ns. i, 3. Walter of St Victor, 'Contra quatuor Labyrinthos Franciae' (Migne CXCIX, cols 11271172). See John of Cornwall (the Lombard's disciple), Eulogiutn, Ch. Ill (Migne CXCIX, cols io52ff.). See Ghellinck, pp. 2Oiff.

Index

Abelard, Peter, 2if., 25, 26ff., 31, 33, 34ffdialectician, 26, 346:., 105 See also Dialectic abducts Heloise, 53 attack on, 129 books burned, 150 castrated, 54 shame of, 64 and Church doctrine, 91 at Corbeil, 38 criticizes Anselm of Laon, 44, 45 death of, 130, 152 denounced by William of St Thierry. See William of St Thierry differences from Anselm of Canterbury, 26, 27 disciples of, 159 dispute with William of Champeaux, 37ff. dissociates himself from Roscelin, 40 early days, 35fL enemies of, i24ff.

friends excommunicated, 150 and Fulbert, 49, 53 gives the Paraclete to nuns, 80 health of, 152 and Heloise, 47ff., 68ff., 80, 81. See also Heloise and Holy Ghost, 96, 97 at Laon. See Laon letters to friends, 137, 138, 139 logic of, 82f. married to Heloise, 53 at Melun, 38, 41 in monastery, 54, 64, 71, 72 at Mont Ste Genevieve, 41, 81, 157 at Notre Dame, 45, 68ff. objections to, 128 at Paris school, 41, 8iff., 123 philosopher, 50 philosophy of, 845. f\f\o't' , 5 C 1in Tr . poet reconciliation with Bernard of Clairvaux, 152, 153 and the Revelation, 95, 134 rivals of, 73

i86/Indbc rules of, 88 at St Denis. See St Denis at St Gildas de Ruys, 79 scandal of, 51 school of, 72 sentence of, 76 and sin, 104 submits to judgment, 151 at Synod of Sens, 1395. Synod of Soissons condemns, 75, 76 teaches at Troyes, 78 teaching of, 74, 75 theology of, 9off. thought of, 8zff., 105, 123 travels of, 36 treatise of, 87 and the Trinity, 93ff. verdict against, 151 writings of, 76, 93, 101, 104, 125, 127, 143, 148, 153 See also Bernard of Clairvaux; Heloi'se Alberic of Rheims, 4, 75, 76, 89 Anacletus II, antipope, 113, 135, 144 Anselm of Besate (The Peripatetic), 16 Anselm of Canterbury, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 31, 84, 86, 89, 90, 100, 102, 135, 148 Anselm of Laon, 25, 31, 36, 42, 43, 74, 89, 90, 126 forbids Abelard to teach Antiquity, 9, 11, 13, 17, 20, 32, 41, 62, 100, 116, 117 Apologia, 145, 147, 149, 151 Argenteuil, 53, 63 nuns driven from, 79 Aristotelian dialectic, 41 Aristotelianism, 91, 92

Aristotle, 15, 16, 21, 82, 83, 151, 161 Arius, 131, 133, 152 Arnold of Brescia, 140, 144, 157 excommunicated, 150 Aspasia quoted, 60 Astrolabius, son of Heloise, 53, 154 Augustine, St, 14, 17, 18, 24, 31, 91, 99, 117 Confessions, 116 On the Trinity, 93 Augustus, 59, 60 Bandinelli, Roland, 159 Bee monastic school, 15, 17, 21, 29 Bede, 77 Benedict, St, of Nursia, 106 Benedictine monasteries, i07fL Benedictine nde, 71, 106, 119 Berengar, father of Abelard, 35 enters monastery, 42 Berengar of Poitiers, 141, 142 writes in defence of Abelard, 154-6 reproaches Bernard of Clairvaux, 155 disapproved of, 156 Berengar of Tours, 16, 17, 18,19, 26 Berengarian Eucharistic Dispute, 16, 17 Bernard of Clairvaux, 17, 22, 27, 28, 30, 35, 71, 81, 105, 106-22, 124, 125, 127, 128, i37f-> 154, 155, 160 abbot of Clairvaux, 108 on Abelard's heresies, 140 Apologia of, 109 beliefs, ii6f. at Citeaux, io6ff., 108 condemns Abelard, 130!?.

Index /i 87 on condemnation of Abelard, 151 criticizes Abelard's writings, 124, 137 cures of, in denunciation of Abelard, iiSff. early days, 106 letters on Abelard, 124, 130, letters to Rome, 144, 150 mysticism of, i2of. reconciliation with Abelard, 15^ 153 treatise against Abelard, 128, 145 wins case against Abelard, i5off. writings of, 115, 124 Boethius, Anicius Manlius Torquatus Severinus, 14, 15, 82 Brittany, Count of, 35 Burckhardt, Jacob, 9, 10, n, 51 Camus, Albert, 117 Carolingian Renaissance, n, 14, 15 Cassian, John, 116 Cassiodorus, Flavius Magnus Aurelius, 14 Cathedral schools, 15, 21, 22 Catholic research, 9 Celestine II, Pope, 150. See also Guy of Castello Champagne, Count Theobald of, 112 Champeaux, William of. See William of Champeaux Charlemagne, 10, 13, 14 Charles I, King, 33 Chartres, Bishop Geoffrey of, 124, 125, 126 Chartres, school of, 15, 21, 37, 84, 159

Church, early life of, 107 Church Fathers. See Fathers of the Church Cicero, 13, 58, 92, 100, 115 Heloi'se quotes, 60 Cistercian monasteries, 106, 107, 160 Cistercian Order, 22 Cistercians, 107, 108, 109, 118, 119 and Cluniacs, conflict between, 109 Citeaux, life at, 106, 107 abbot of and reconciliation, 152 Clairveaux, io8ff., 113, 114, 152 abbot of, 150 Cluniacs, 22, 1095., no and Cistercians, conflict between, 109 Cluny monastery, 107, 109, 144, 149, 150, 154, 158 Abelard dies at, 152 Cluny, Abbot of, epitaph on Abelard, 156. See also Peter the Venerable Confessio /idei, 145, 148 Conflict between Bernard and Abelard, 123!!. Corbeil, 38 Damian, Peter, 16, 17 Dante, 157 Denifle, H., 159 Devil, the, loiff. Dialectic, 15, 20, 21, 23, 40, 83. 84,85 Dialectica, Abelard's final work, 82 Dialectician, Abelard the young, Dialecticians, 87

188/Index Dialectics and antidialecticism, 16, 29 Egyptian desert Fathers, 107 Erigena, John Scotus, 14, 18 Ethica, 104, 127, 145, 147 Eucharistic dispute, 17 Faith, 89 Abelard and, 86i, 89 Fathers of the Church, 15,16,18, 24, 25, 26, 30, 31, 42, 43, 74, 87, 88, 90, 92, 93, 96, 108, 116, 133 France, twelfth-century, 22 Frantia, 22 Fulbert, Canon, Heloise's uncle, 48, 63 hears of scandal, 49 punishes Abelard, 54 Geoffrey of Auxerre, 150 Geoffrey of Chartres, Bishop, 76 Gerhocn of Reichensberg, 159 Geyer, Bernhard, 83, 84 Ghellinck, J. de, 14 Gilson, Etienne, quoted, 55, 115 God's omnipotence, 100 prescience, 100 providence, 100 Greek philosophy, 19 schools of, 13 Gregory the Great, 101, 107, 154 Guy of Castello, 132, 150. See also Celestine II Haimeric, Cardinal, 141, 144 Harding, Stephen, abbot, 106 Heloise, 35, 47ff., 73, 79^, 104, 125, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155 on being Abelard's mistress, 58ff. conflict of, 67

to convent, 53, 63 corresponds with Abelard, 80 death of, 154 on effects of marriage, 6of. life with Abelard, 46-53 married to Abelard, 53 a nun, 64, 65, 66f. at the Paraclete, 80 and prostitution of marriage, 6of. regrets marriage, 67 son born to, 53 Henry of Sens. See Sens, Archbishop of Hilarius, pupil of Abelard, 79 Holy Trinity, 152 Honorius II, Pope, 113 Hugh of St Victor, 31, 39, 160 Hyacinth, sub-deacon, 140, 141, 144 Innocent II, Pope, 113, 125, 130, 135, 144 condemns Abelard, 129 confirms verdict against Abelard, 150 lifts sentence, 152 Jerome, St, 56 Jesus Christ, ioiff., ugf., 151, 152 John of Salisbury, 81, 123 Joscelin, John, dialectician, 40, 75, 88 teaches Abelard, 36 at Sens, 141 Judicial studies, 20, 21 La Ferte monastery, 108 La Grande Chartreuse, 156 Lanfranc, school of, 17, 24 Laon, 15, 45, 85, 89 Abelard's contemporaries at, 75

Index/i89 Leo XIII, Pope, 9 Leone, Pier. See Anacletus II Leonis, Peter, 113 Linguistic sciences, 13, 84 Loches, 36 Lotulf of Novara, 44 master at Rheims, 75, 76 Lucia, Abelard's mother, 35, 42 Martin, Saint of Tours, 91 Maximus Confessor, 116 Melun, Abelard establishes school at, 38 Middle Ages, 3, 9, 10, 11, 19, 32f., 82, 101 reassessment in, 9 teaching methods in, 13 tradition in, 12 Monasteries, 22 Monastic rules of Benedict and Basil, 30 Monastic schools, 15, 21, 119 Monks critical of Abelard, 31 hatred of, 79 seek to punish Abelard, 77 Mont Ste Genevieve, Abelard at, 41, 8i( 157 Morigny, monastery, 125 Nestorius, 131, 133 Norbert of Xanten, 124 Notre Dame, Abelard magister scholarum at, 45, 55 Notre Dame, Archdeacon of, 36 Origen, 31 Abelard's interest in, 72! Orleans, school at, 21 Ovid, 50 Paraclete, the, 78, 79, 80, 93, 123, 124, 125 Abelard's body at, 154

Paris, Abelard at, 15, 37, 38, 80, 123, 140 and dialectics, 45 schools at, 15, 46 Paris, Bishop of, 128, 129 Paid, St, 91, 151 Pelagius, 131, 133 Peripatetic, the, 16 Peripatetics, 35 Peter, St, 91 Peter of Cluny. See Peter the Venerable Peter the Lombard, writings of, 160 Peter the Venerable, i09f., 145, 152, 153, 154, 156 disapproval of Bernard of Clairvaux,156 epistle on Abelard, 157 and reconciliation, 152 requests Abelard's presence in monastery, 152 Plato, 10, 19, 92, 96, 100 Pontigny, 108 Pope and Emperor, struggle between, 20 Porphyry, 82 Porree, Gilbert de la, 31, 158 accused by Bernard of Clairvaux, 142 Premonstratensians III, 124 Protestant research, 9 Puritanism, 33 Quadrivium, 14 Renaissance, 9 Carolingian, 11 classical, 10 twelfth-century, 9, 55, 121, 161 Revelation, Abelard and, 134 Rheims, 15, 142

190/Index Rheims, Archbishop of, 150 at Sens, 140 Richard of, St Victor, 157 Robert of Melun, 157 Robert of Molesme, 106 Rome, 113, 129, 140, 141 Christian, 13 Bernard of Clairvaux writes to, 150 Rupert of Deutz, 30 Sabellius, 152 St Denis, Benedictine Abbey of Abelard goes to, 54, 64, 70, 71, 76, 77, 79 St Gildas de Ruys monastery, 80 Abelard at, 79 St Marcel, monastery of, 154 St Martin of Tours, canons of, 75 St Medard monastery, 76, 77 St Victor monastery, 39 Samson of Rheims, 142 Scholasticism, 29, 31 Seeberg, Reinhold, German historian, 25 Seneca, Heloi'se quotes, 56 Sens, 144, 145, 150, 152, 155 encounter at, 137-49 Sens, Archbishop of, 128, 129, 131, 136, 137, 138, 143, 150 Sic ct Non, Abelard's treatise, 87, 127, 161 Sidorova,N. A.,Russian scholar, 21 Signy, monastery at, 124 Sin, Abelard's conception of, 105, 147, 148 Soissons, 88, 89, 92, 93, 128, 133, 143, 158 Council of, 126 synod at, 75, 76 Suger, Abbot, reforms St Denis monastery, 71, 77, 79

Synod of Rheims, 142 Synod of Sens, 123, 130, 131, 134, 145, 150 Synod of Soissons, 76, 89 Theologia, 93, 101, 123, 124, i26f., 129, 132, 135, 145, 146, 153, 159 Theologia Christiana, 93 Tours, 15 Traditionalism, 19 Trinity, 94, 95, 98, 99, 101, 135, 145, 146; Church doctrine on, 93 Trivium, the, 13 Troyes, Abelard erects chapel at, 78 Twelfth-century intellectual life; Renaissance, 9, 55, 121, 161 Varro, Marcus Terentius, Roman writer, 14 Victorines III, 157, 159 Walter of St Victor, 159 William of Champeaux, 25, 31, 36, 37, 38, 39, 4, 41, 45, 82, 83; becomes Bishop of Chalons, 42 conflict with Abelard, 37ff. joins Anselm of Laon against Abelard, 44 William of Conches, 159 William of St Thierry, 124, 125, 126, 129, 133^, 145, 146, 147J and Abelard writings, 127 attacks William of Conches, 159 letter against Abelard, i26ff treatise of, 124

ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 7

WHO CARES?

WHO CARES? Christianity and Modern Problems

F. G. HEROD

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1981 Methuen Educational. Copyright 1981 F. G. Herod All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

978-0-367-62307-4 978-1-003-10879-5 978-0-367-62365-4 978-0-367-63166-6 978-1-003-10910-5

(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 7) (hbk) (Volume 7) (pbk) (Volume 7) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

Who cares? Christianity and modern problems (Second edition)

F. G, H E R O D

Former Head of Religious Education Department, Catford School

Methuen Educational London • Toronto • Sydney • Auckland

By the same author and published by Methuen Educational

What Men Believe The Life of Christ

(Secondary Certificate Questions series) The Gospels: A First Commentary

Challenge!

Published by Hart Davis World Religions

First published 1972 Reprinted six times Second edition published 1981 by Methuen Educational 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE © 1972 and 1981 by F.G. Herod All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. Printed in Great Britain by Fletcher & Son Ltd, Norwich ISBN 0 423 50870 9

Contents The chapters may be read in any order page v

You and Your world Family

page 1 page 9

World poverty Money

page 18

Race

page 27

Work

page 38 page 46

War and violence page 55

Leisure

page 66

Government Sex and marriage Religion

page 76

page 84

Examination Questions Index

page 105

page 95

Acknowledgements Thanks are due to the following for permission to use copyright material in this book: Associated Press Ltd for the photograph appearing on p. 19 Camera Press Ltd for the photographs appearing on pp. 21,24,29,34,36,39,43,48,61,68,77,81, 88. Also the photograph appearing on the cover. Brian L. Davis for the photograph appearing on p. 2 Christopher Phillips for the photograph appearing on page 90. Alfred Gregory for the photograph facing p. 1 The Israel Government Tourist Office for the photograph appearing on p. 3 Keystone Press Agency Ltd for the photographs appearing on pp. 22 and 58 Manchester City Council for the photograph appearing on p. 73 Canon D. Milmine for the photograph appearing on p. 53 Oxfam and Christian Aid for the photograph appearing on p. 11 and for the map on p. 12 Richard Bros, Penzance, for the photograph appearing on p. 49 Task Force for the photograph appearing on p. 62 Thanks are also due to Oxfam, Christian Aid and International Voluntary Service for permission to produce volunteer workers' letters; to the Jesus Movement for the detail from a poster, p. 94; and to the Examining Boards listed with the questions they have granted permission to publish. A number of addresses will be found in the book of organisations willing to supply information, but each organisation would appreciate it if only one member of a class wrote to them on behalf of the others. Cover photograph shows a black and white demonstration in California against the Vietnam war.

You and your world 'Our youth now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority . . . they contradict their parents, chatter before company, gobble up their food and tyrannize their teachers.' Do you recognize yourselves? Is it true, half-true or merely the biased opinion that usually begins with 'When I was your age . . .'? Should not the writer have added that many young people are dismayed by the state of the world in which they find themselves; impatient of their self-satisfied elders; and anxious to build by every means a more sensible society? This book has been written in the belief that this is true. The above quotation, incidentally, is a criticism of the youth of Athens by Plato in the fourth century B.C.

family One wise son can make his father glad; forty fools avail him nothing. Hindu saying. Children should never cause anxiety to their parents except by unavoidable illness. Confucius Be good to your parents. The Koran He who honours his father shall have joy from his own children. Ecclesiasticus Children, be obedient to your parents always; parents, never drive your children to resentment or you will make them feel frustrated. Paul He who spares the rod hates his own son. Proverbs A parent should make no distinction between his own children. The Talmud A man should spend less than his means on food and drink for himself, up to his means on clothes, and above his means on honouring his wife and children. The Talmud Are parents the best people to rear their own children or has anyone ever found a better system? Look up the word 'Spartan' in your dictionary. Its meaning will give you a clue to a very different system. In ancient Sparta puny and ill-shaped babies were not allowed to survive. They were left exposed in a mountain gorge to die. All boys at the age of seven were taken from their parents and brought up by the state. There was no nonsense about mother-love in Sparta! The children were drilled unceasingly and put through a long hardening process which made them tough and skilful soldiers. If, for instance, they were caught stealing they were beaten, not for stealing, but for being clumsy enough to be found out. In this century Hitler had similar ideas. The youth of Nazi Germany were trained in complete obedience. Hitler controlled their education and they were taught to be tough and brutal towards everyone who opposed the Nazi government. They were instructed to report family or friends whom they considered disloyal, and some of them as a result actually saw their own parents arrested and carried away to death in concentration camps.

[2]

FAMILY

Russia in 1917 became a communist state. Children were ordered to disobey their parents if their demands were not in line with what the government required. But after eighteen years the experiment was abandoned, because it was felt that children who learnt to despise their parents soon learnt to despise all authority. On p. 3 there is a picture of a settlement in Israel, called a kibbutz. When the Jews returned to Palestine they found so much hard work to be done to make the barren land fertile that they built these working settlements on the land. Today there are over two hundred of them. Everyone has to lend a hand, the women

Nazi youth

working alongside the men. So in many settlements the children are brought up in separate houses by teachers. This system seems to work fairly well, but in some settlements the children stay all day in creches and sleep in their parents' homes at night. Sparta, Russia, Germany, Israel - all are examples of how family life has been altered. But notice one thing. In each case it is the welfare of the state, not the children that comes first. If the children are to come first is there any alternative to family life as we know it? Can you think of one? Keep in mind that psychologists insist that love and a sense of security are abso-

FAMILY

[3]

lutely necessary in childhood. If for any reason these are missing, the child in later life may feel neither secure nor capable of real love himself. Judith Coleman quotes a striking example of this given by Margaret Mead, the anthropologist, who studied two tribes living quite close to each other. One of them, the Mundugumor tribe, put their children in wicker baskets immediately they were born and lifted them out only for feeding. The Arapesh tribe, on the other hand, kept their children close to their mothers' breasts for two years or more. The difference in these two tribes was remarkable. The Mundugumor were ferocious, aggressive and quarrelsome; the Arapesh gentle, generous and peaceloving.

Working on a Kibbutz

The human baby is one of the most helpless of all creatures and requires daily care, protection and guidance for many years. But for just how many years? This is one of the problems of the family system. It doesn't seem to exist among the lower animals. A young bird is pushed out of the nest and made to fend for itself as soon as it is able to do so. The parents want to be rid of their responsibility at the earliest possible moment. But in the human home the reverse is often true. Parents cling to control long after their children think it unnecessary. 'Who was that girl I saw you with at the end of the road?' demands Mum as

[4]

FAMILY

soon as you walk in at the door. Turn that stereo down. Why must we have that din all night?' 'What do you want to wear that thing for?' 'See you're home by 9.30, won't you?' Questions like these can be very annoying when all you want is to choose your own clothes, your own friends, your own pastimes and have a private life of your own. 'My mum says no to everything,' moaned one fourteen-year-old girl. Of course, parents have their point of view. Newspapers and television give great publicity to missing children and the harm that sometimes comes to them. Rowdiness and crime among young people are on the increase. Parents naturally keep a close watch on what their children are doing and the company they keep. Many parents, too, remember the mistakes they made when they were young and don't want their children to repeat them. So when it comes to the big decisions as, for example, whether to have that extra year or two at school, they are not impressed by such arguments as, 'Why should I stay at school and be treated like a kid when my friends have all left and are earning good money?' This surely is not a sensible attitude to a serious problem that may well affect the whole of your future life. Are your parents, in fact, looking to you for just that - a sensible attitude to life - before they grant you more freedom of choice? Freedom cannot work in any society unless people think and act wisely. Figures for juvenile crime show that it is most often the broken or unhappy home that produces the delinquent. Many children suffer from tragic home conditions. They find themselves uncared for or the miserable victims of parents' quarrels. So, even if your parents moan a little and brothers or sisters get on your nerves, you may still be thankful. If you are fortunate enough to have a good home and the making of a real family spirit within it, work hard to preserve it. You are among the lucky ones of this generation. Ann and Pauline have been looking forward to going to the cinema on Saturday evening to see a very popular film. But on Friday morning Ann, Pauline, Jennifer and Helen meet at 'break.' Ann Pauline Ann Pauline

Can't go on Saturday, Pauline. You've got to — you promised! I know, but Mum won't let me. She's read something in the papers about it and says it's unsuitable. Unsuitable! She means it's a bit sexy, I suppose. I don't know how you

F A M I L Y [5] get on at all. I'm lucky. My Mum never bothers as long as she knows where I'm going and what time I'm coming in Well, I can't go alone. Can you come, Jennifer? Jennifer You must be joking! You know my Dad won't let me out of his sight since that row over Pete. He goes mad if he thinks I'm out with a boy. Pauline Well, you won't be out with a boy. Jennifer More's the pity! But he won't believe it. Every time I was out with Pete, I was supposed to be out with you. My Mum's on his side too. I could hate them sometimes. I'm fed up with their moaning. It's your own fault. You shouldn't tell lies. They always find out. Mine Helen do. Ann You're lucky. Your Mum invites your boy friends in. Jennifer I wish she'd invite my Dad in and tell him how to trust his little Jenny! He still thinks I'm seven. Helen Funny, that. My Dad's the same — stricter than my Mum. Anyway, I'd rather have them strict than don't care. It's for your own good in the end, you know. Ann If you lived with my Nan you wouldn't say that. She's only got to look at me to know what I'm thinking and she's always nagging me to washup, clean the house, run here and there to save my Mum's legs. She's always on at me. I just walk out of the room. Pauline Well, what about tomorrow night? Ann Helen Sorry. Jennifer Pauline Oh well, 1 can't go then. Ann I'm really sorry, Pauline. What about coming round to our house and playing cards with my Nan. She likes you. 1. Do you think Ann's mother was right in not letting her see the film? Why? 2. What advantage is there in being able to take your boy-friend (girl-friend) home? 3. Who was to blame for Jennifer being kept at home? 4. Is it ever right not to tell your parents the truth about what you are doing when you are out? 5. 'I'd rather have them strict than don't care.' Do you agree with Helen? 6. 'She's always nagging me.' It sounds as if Ann might do a little more to help in the house, at least her Nan thinks so. What do you think about helping at home?

[6] FAMILY

If you should ever call at a Jewish home, you might see fastened to the doorpost at the entrance a small cylinder or box. It is called a Mezuzah. It contains fifteen verses of scripture inscribed minutely on a scroll. A Jew, as he enters his home, touches it with his finger. This is a sign that he regards his home as sacred to God. Synagogue and home are equally sacred in Jewish eyes. Within the home the family are brought close together by their religious faith. Festivals are celebrated there, and every Friday evening special prayers are said over a candle-lit supper table. As a consequence the Jews set a fine example to the world in their home life, their faithfulness in marriage and their care of children and old people. Even in their present-day experiment, the Kibbutzim, there is practically no trace among their young people of violence, drug taking, excessive drinking or sex before marriage. Jesus, therefore, in his day would not meet serious problems about the relationship of parents and children. There would be, of course, the exceptions, We can find examples in the Old Testament: rebelliousness (David and Absalom 2 Samuel, 15-18), treachery (David and Bathsheba 2 Samuel 11), favouritism (Rebecca and Jacob Genesis 27). But generally Jesus would not feel it necessary to say a great deal on this subject. "Then he went back to Nazareth and continued to be under their authority." This was Jesus at twelve years old, after being lost for four days and found by his parents in the Temple. All the record adds about his boyhood is 'As Jesus grew up, he advanced in wisdom and in favour with God and man.' Later in life, as a teacher, he has some strong words to say on divorce and unfaithfulness in marriage. He stresses more than once the fifth Commandment: 'Honour your father and your mother,' and has some acid comments on rabbis who twist the law to make it legal for a man to neglect his parents. He shows a deep love for children and is angry with his disciples when they think that he is either too important or too busy to give them his blessing. During the final agony of death he remembers his mother and asks John, his disciple, to look after her. Apart from this he says little directly about the family. What Jesus believed in he would find in most families: a faith in God and the rules of conduct that go with it. What he taught was that true love and humility, as shown for example in the story of the Prodigal Son, can solve most family problems.

FAMILY [7]

Passages from the Bible for further study

Luke 2, 41-50 Luke 2, 51 Mark 10, 13-16 Matt. 18, 1-6 Ephesians 4, 32 I Corinthians 12, 13-27 Ephesians 6, 1-4 Exodus 20, 12 Proverbs 23, 22 John 19, 26-27 Luke 15, 11-32 Mark 7, 9-13 Matt. 15,4-6

An example of disobedience An example of obedience Children are very important The right family spirit Parent-child relations Looking after one's parents Two brothers and their father How to avoid honouring one's parents.

For Discussion

1. What do you think about the following statements: a: 'I don't tell anyone at home where I am going or what time I shall be be in.' 14 year old boy. b: 'I don't want any advice, thank you. I want to learn from my own mistakes.' 18 year old girl leaving school. c: 'I think one's parents ought to help out!' young married daughter with money troubles. 2. Read the quotations at the beginning of the chapter. Which, if any, do you disagree with and why? 3. Write down a: six things you enjoy for nothing through being a member of your family b: six things you do voluntarily to help in the home. 4. What mistakes would you like to avoid when you become a parent yourself? 5. If parental influence is very important what do you think about a: mothers using nursery schools? b: young children being sent to boarding school?

[8] FAMILY

6. Robert Browning wrote: 'Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be: The last of life for which the first was made/ The 'last of life' should be as happy and rewarding as the earlier part. What are the difficulties of old age and how should family life cope with them? 7. Write a play consisting of one scene, entitled *A Spot of Bother' which features a family row. Write a: the scene as you think it would take place then b: the scene as you think it ought to take place in order to avoid the row. 8. Discuss the family problems that lie behind the following statements: a: 'I can't talk to my dad' b: 'Every time my young sister passes me she kicks me' c: 'Mum, why haven't you cleaned my shoes?' d: 'Put the other programme on, Barry. I want to see the News.' 9. Every organisation must have rules. Write down up to a dozen rules that could make a home run smoothly. 10. Experiments in community instead of family life are always interesting. The Israeli settlements are amongst the best of them. Find out what you can about them and give a five-minute talk to the class on the subject. The Jewish Agency, Rex House, 4 Regent Street, London, S.W.I will supply information on the Kibbutzim.

World pouerty Give even though you have but little to give. Buddhist saying People give according to their faith or according to their pleasure. Buddhist saying When I was hungry, you gave me food; when thirsty, you gave me drink; when I was a stranger you took me into your home, when naked you clothed me; when I was ill you came to my help, when in prison you visited me. Jesus Blessed is he who also fasts for this, that he might feed the poor. Early Christian saying When the poor are roughly turned away from your gate, they carry off your good deeds with them, and upon you lay their sins. Hindu saying The more charity, the more peace. Jewish saying True charity is practised in secret. The best type of charity is where the person who gives does not know who receives it; and the person who receives it does not know who gives it. Jewish saying He is not a perfect Muslim who eats his fill and lets his neighbour go hungry. Mohammed How would you care to live on a diet of rice pudding every day of your life? Three people out of four in the world exist in this way. Three-quarters of mankind in essence know only one dish, a basic food (bread, rice, cassava, maize, millet, etc.) flavoured by a sauce of some kind (UNESCO) so that almost every time they sit down to a meal the same dreary diet faces them. If it does not contain the food necessary for sound health, they grow up sickly and weak, liable to catch diseases and to die earlier than they should. They are suffering from what is called malnutrition. Half the people in the world suffer from malnutrition either for the whole of life or part of it. Some parts of the world are much worse off than others. India, for example, can produce only enough food to feed two-thirds of her population. This means that millions of people in India are slowly starving to death because there is just not enough food to go round.

[10]

WORLD POVERTY

The world therefore is divided into "the haves" and "the have-nots". The average Englishman is fifteen times better off than the average Indian; the American, thirty times better off. In the west we have food enough and to spare in fact, to waste, judging by the contents of our dustbins. And the people of the underdeveloped countries are becoming more aware of it every year. This then is problem No. 1 for mankind, for at the present growth rate, the population of the world will have doubled by the year 2000. A computer analysis from the Institute of Technology, Massachusetts, gave a very gloomy view of the future. It declared that the human race faced starvation unless, within the next few years, a: we stabilized the world population b: we used all possible arable land and learned to enrich and preserve it c: we were prepared to accept a modest standard of life instead of continually seeking a higher one. In 1980, ex-prime minister Edward Heath and ex-West German chancellor Willy Brandt, in a joint statement, gave a further warning of the certainty of world disaster unless we tackled the appalling gap between the rich and poor countries of the world. 1: The number of quotations at the beginning of this chapter could easily have been doubled. Every religion makes an important point of giving to the poor. Why is this? 2: 'When you do some act of charity, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.' Find the Jewish saying which expresses the same idea. Why is this 'true charity?' The late John F Kennedy, once president of the United States, believed that by united international effort in this generation we could end thirst and hunger in the world and conquer poverty and disease. Was he right? Is it possible that the 'population explosion' will cancel out all our efforts to solve these problems? Many governments today, especially in poor countries, are making great efforts to persuade their people to have smaller families. In this matter, since over half the adult population of the world can neither read nor write, the advance of education can help enormously. But there is real hope elsewhere. Not many people know that mankind uses only one third of the earth's surface that could be cultivated. So that the amount of food grown could be three times what it is today. Look at it another way: If the land of the world were evenly distributed each human being would have 12Yz acres, four of them potentially cultivateable; he would cultivate one. (Christian Aid)

Malnutrition

[12] W O R L D POVERTY

] On overage 30 grams or more of animal protein are available to each person per day

]On average 29-15 grams of animal protein are available to each person per day

^On average less than 15 grams of animal protein are available to each person per day

Land areas left blank where no internationally accepted figures available

Malnutrition

What is really needed then is a united effort of the human race to make the earth fruitful. In this the Israelis have set us a fine example. When they took over Israel in 1948 it contained millions of acres of barren land. The Jews set to work living in their settlements on the land and toiling unceasingly to make the desert fertile. Today they are four times better off than their Arab neighbours. If this experiment could be repeated thousands of times in other lands food could be plentiful. Of course, in order to succeed, the Jews had to have money, machines and technicians, but poor countries have none of these things and have found it difficult to make a start without outside help. Such help is already being given in the following ways: a: By the United Nations. Member states make an annual contribution and the money is used mainly to help with agriculture, education and health.

b:

c: d:

W O R L D P O V E R T Y [13]

By separate nations. Britain, the United States, France and Russia, for example, have special interests in various parts of the world and provide money and skilled labour for development. Britain naturally gives and lends a great deal of money to Commonwealth countries (about £800 million a year). By voluntary organisations. Such organisations as Oxfam and Christian Aid raise millions of pounds every year by collections. They will always find money to help in emergencies such as famine, earthquake and flood. By volunteer workers. Every year many thousands of people from Britain and other countries go abroad to help in under-developed countries. They include school-leavers and students who give their services for two or three months or for longer periods up to one or two years. Work of every description is needed, both skilled and unskilled but the skilled worker with some experience behind him is wanted most of all. Board and accommodation are found and pocket money provided.

Here are extracts from some letters: Graham Pearce spent two years in Lesotho working on a pineapple-growing scheme. He wrote In my case, although I have always been interested in human relationships, I think the reason for my going to Africa was a rather selfish desire to be my own boss and do things my way, coupled with the ever present urge in most young people to see something of the world around them, especially a country as romantic as Africa. It wasn 't until I had been there six months and had had time to see and digest at first hand some of the problems facing the African people that I developed the interest that I have now. It's a country that once under the skin stays there for good. The Pineapple project became an obsession with me and it wasn't long before I was generally known as Pineapple Pearce because of my incessant badgering for co-operation. . . . At the end of my two years I came away with a real sense of achievement and purpose, something I had never experienced before and probably won't again. Diana Chorley spent one year as an Oxfam-sponsored volunteer at the Amani Cheshire Home just outside Nairobi. There were twenty patients, ten adults and

[14]

W O R L D POVERTY

ten children, some paralysed, some deaf or blind, some spastic. All were incurables. She wrote, Only one child can run around, but the rest move so fast in their wheelchairs that they are quite lethal.. .. My work around the Home is punctuated by singing, and chanting of multiplication tables, which is done with far more enthusiasm than accuracy. I am trying to get some percussion instruments to form a band. . . . Calamities happen each day. The electricity fails, the roof leaks. . . . So Apart from being Sister, lam plumber, carpenter, electrician and as we have no permanent doctor I must prescribe drugs. lam also typist, and organiser of laundry, catering and staff. It's a great challenge working here. The need for Homes like ours is tremendous and I feel a bit of a pioneer. International Voluntary Service sent Barbara Hayes as a laboratory technician to McKean Leprosy Hospital, Chiengmai in Thailand. Barbara writes This hospital already had a lab. before my arrival but it was staffed by patients, none of whom had any lab. science education. My job at present is to organise and supervise the lab., train the present staff and introduce further clinical tests. . . . The hospital is existing on an absolute minimum of staff and money but even if money was available, I think it would be impossible to get a qualified technician as the majority of Thais refuse to work with leprosy patients. Within the hospital the people seem poor but the people from the outside villages are in a desperate condition, especially healthwise as they receive no regular medical supervision. It is hoped next year to establish a team to visit these villages and to conduct survey work to find the undiagnosed cases as part of a programme for leprosy eradication. All this will mean a lot of extra work for the lab. both in organisation and in technical procedures so I think it will be a long time before a lab. technician at McKean finds there is little to do. Passages from the Bible for further study

Matt. 25, 31 -46 Mark 6, 30-44 Luke 16, 19-31

Essential Christian service Concern for human needs The rich and the poor

Luke 12, 16-21 James 2, 14-17

W O R L D P O V E R T Y [15] A pauper in the sight of God Faith and works

For Discussion

No problem can be solved unless it is properly understood. This is a great opportunity for research work. Members of the class might write to the following organisations which are very co-operative, asking for information which would help to give an understanding of the problem of hunger. Then, working in groups, the class could discover for itself a: The distressed areas of the world b: The work of the U.N. in these areas c: The assistance being given by individual nations d: The Voluntary Societies' work e: The opportunities for working in these areas as a volunteer or on a more permanent basis Organisations United Nations Children's Fund War on Want Oxfam Overseas Development Institute Centre for World Development and Education Save the Children Fund Christian Aid Quaker Work Camps Committee Ministry of Overseas Development Christian Education Movement Catholic Institute for International Relations United Nations Association International Voluntary Service

46 Osnaburgh Street, London NW1 467 Caledonian Rd, London N7 274 Banbury Road, Oxford 10 Percy St, London Wl 128 Buckingham Palace Road, London SW1 157 Clapham Rd, London SW9 240 Ferndale Road, London SW9 Friends' House, Euston Rd, London NW1 Eland House, Stag Place, London SW1 Chester House, Pages Lane, London N10 1 Cambridge Terrace, London NW1 3 Whitehall Court, SW1 82a Christchurch Road, SW2

[16]

WORLD POVERTY

Action Aid United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees 2.

The wealthy nations of the world help the poorer ones in different ways. They may give them what is called multilateral aid, which is aid that they contribute to a number of countries through such organisations as the World Bank. In 1977 30% of aid was given in this way. Bilateral aid, on the other hand, is that given by one government to another, e.g. Britain to India. It may be a loan which has to be repaid, usually with interest, or a grant that may be "tied". A tied grant is one that has to be spent by the government receiving it on goods from the donor country. This arrangement is rarely popular because the donor country fixes the prices which may well be higher than the poorer countries usually pay. Yet most bilateral aid is tied in this way. Some countries, however, have shown themselves to be generous. For example, Canada, Britain and Sweden have all written off the past debts of some very poor countries. Russia, on the other hand, insists on quite hard repayments and as a consequence gets more back in interest and capital than she gives out each year. The Gross National Product (GNP) of any country is the annual total value of the goods and services that it produces. The amount of aid given by various countries is compared by calculating it as a percentage of its GNP. Here are some recent figures given by "The Internationalist": USA .22% CANADA .5% UNITED KINGDOM .37% OPEC 2.65%

3.

208 Upper Street, London Nl 36 Westminster Palace Gardens, Artillery Row, London SW1

USSR .03% AUSTRALIA .45%

In the world today there are 800 million people living on the edge of starvation. There are 10 million homeless people. The situation is critical. Wayne Ellwood in an article in "The Internationalist" questions whether the kind of aid described above can alone solve the problem of world poverty. He makes three suggestions: a: Since poor nations are often forced, out of necessity, to sell their goods at a low price, the nations in the west should agree together to pay a fair market price for Third World produce.

4.

W O R L D P O V E R T Y [17] b: That the tariffs raised against Third World goods, keeping them out of western markets, should be reduced, c: That rich countries should step up their programme for writing off the past debts of poorer nations. Here are some actual comments on the problem of world poverty that might be discussed both before and after the class research: a: 'It's no good giving money - a lot of it doesn't even get there.' b: 'They're lazy. If they were willing to work they could get themselves out of this mess.' c: There are too many of them. If a million or so die, it will help.' d: 'We can't afford to help - we've too many problems of our own. We're nearly bankrupt!'

Money How hard it will be for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom of God. Jesus. Be on your guard against greed of every kind, for even when a man has more than enough, his wealth does not give him life. Jesus. Wealth is title to respect, fame and wisdom that it should be so is shame. Hindu saying. // is as hard to be poor without complaining as to be rich without becoming arrogant. Confucius. He who multiplies property multiplies worries. Jewish Mishnah. Wealth, properly employed is a blessing, and one may lawfully endeavour to increase it by honest means. Mohammed. / have learned in whatsoever state lam, therewith to be content. Paul. Here are a number of different ways in which people look at money. Bank Robbery Three masked men, armed with pickaxe handles, burst into the bank in Russell St. this morning ten minutes after opening time. Vaulting over the counter, they ransacked the tills, getting away with about £8000. A customer who tried to intercept one of them was violently attacked and was later reported in hospital to be still unconscious. The men escaped in a waiting Jaguar later found abandoned. 'Bank Robbery', 'Wages Snatch,' 'Elderly Shopkeeper Battered to Death'. Items like these in the newspaper seem hardly worth a passing glance. We are so used to them. There has always been robbery with violence. In times of war whole nations have sometimes been involved in it. The terrible urge to get rich at any cost causes men to risk life and limb and to maim and murder one another. Very many other people who would not act violently nevertheless put money first in life. 'I want to make a lot of money and spend it on myself,' declared a

MONEY

[19]

Bank robbery photographed by a hidden camera

student recently. Twelve of them were interviewed by the magazine The Queen. Out of nine men six said that their aim in life was to get a lot of money. 'I want to make a lot of money in order to satisfy my very expensive tastes,' said another. 'I want to live and be seen to live as a rich man/ said a third. Unfortunately, there are many ways other than physical violence of harming our fellowmen. People who have this tremendous passion to get money are not always concerned to know exactly how it is made. Huge fortunes and vast estates have been built up in most countries at the expense of the health and happiness of countless people. Paul, a great traveller in the Roman Empire, gave it as his opinion that 'the love of money is the root of all evil.' Certainly it has provoked almost every sin known to man. And the result throughout man's history has remained much the same: the privileged few have enjoyed great wealth and the masses have remained poor. In modern times conditions have improved, yet the distribution of wealth still remains very uneven. In Britain 10% of the population owns 75% of the private wealth of the country (Parliamentary Answer, October 1970). And in rich countries like Britain and America millions of people are still homeless or living in

[20] MONEY

houses 'unfit for human habitation', and many still die of neglect and semistarvation. 1. 2. 3.

Give any examples you can think of where the pursuit of money has caused or is causing suffering. What is meant by cut-throat competition? How does it affect the people concerned in it? Which quotations at the head of this chapter suggest that it is not only the poor who suffer in the scramble for wealth?

A different attitude to money was shown by a girl student. 'I want money so that I don't have to worry about it,' she said. Many people would settle for that happy state of affairs. The real problem arises when we ask ourselves just how much money is 'enough.' People's wants are greater today than ever before. This is certainly true of teenagers because there is so much more to buy. Your parents, when they were your age, had none of the following: colour TV, hi-fi, video recorders, cassettes, electronic games and calculators, instamatic cameras and discos. There is, of course, more money to spend. The average wage in 1938 for a boy of eighteen was £1; for a girl 92^p. Today, the corresponding figures are £43.70 and £36.40, which, allowing for the increased cost of living, are double those of forty years ago. Yet there are greater temptations to spend because advertising has become a fine art. In America, according to Vance Packard in The Hidden Persuaders, millions of dollars are spent in discovering exactly the right way to advertise goods so that people cannot resist buying them. Advertisers even employ psychiatrists to probe people's minds in depth to discover what particular angle will succeed. The results are amazingly successful. In Britain, also, enormous sums are spent on advertising. One single full-page advertisement in a national newspaper can cost about £11,000. And on every hand — newspapers, magazines, hoardings, neon signs, cinemas, television, radio — you are being skilfully bombarded with ideas for spending your money. Add to this the strange urge some people have 'to keep up with the Jones's' and the ease with which they can begin hire-purchase payments on expensive articles which they cannot really afford, and 'enough' means, in fact, a very great deal. Statistics show that there are many people under these pressures who get badly into debt, and that keeping up payments causes them constant worry and discontent.

[22] MONEY

Perhaps you can think of a more sensible way of living. Mohammed, you may remember, said 'Wealth properly employed is a blessing,' and that surely is what God intended it to be. Write down half a dozen or more advertisements that you can remember. Each has its special line of appeal. Can you find it? Does it, for example, appeal to 1. the desire to appear manly? 2. the desire to be femininely attractive? 3. the desire for glamour and romance? 4. the desire to appear well-off? 5. the desire to appear refined and to have good taste? Can you think of advertisements where a well-known person is used to recommend the goods or where doctors, nurses or other professional people are connected in some way with the advertisement to add weight to it? Can you think of advertisements that appeal to some emotion such as fear or greed?

MONEY [23]

Here, finally, is a completely different attitude. Fritz Kreisler was one of the most brilliant violinists of the twentieth century. He could have been a very wealthy man but he and his wife lived quite simply and gave most of his money away. He explained, 'People do not understand just why we do not feel that we have any right to spend money carelessly. It is very simple. We feel that we are stewards of my talent and the money that comes from it. It is God's gift and we are its stewards.' The Kreislers were Christians and extremely happy people. Whether we share their beliefs or not, there is one interesting point about their way of life that we should note. They lived a simple life and enjoyed it. Their personal wants were few and yet they were content. We, however, are born into an acquisitive society. This means that from an early age we are brought up to want things. As individuals and as nations we tend to think that the more we have, the happier we shall be. But is it really true? Jesus said, 'Even when a man has more than enough, his wealth cannot give him life.' Could we not, in fact, be much more content if we trained ourselves to value and enjoy a little more the things we already possess? Buddha taught that all the evil and unhappiness in life arises simply from wanting things. Get rid of your desires, he said, and you will be happy. This may seem an extreme statement but is there not some point in the following conversation between Pyrrhus, the ancient soldier king, and a philosopher friend about his future plans? 'First', said Pyrrhus, 'I shall conquer Italy.' 'What will you do after that?' Then I shall take Sicily.' 'And then?' 'I shall conquer Greece and Macedonia.' 'And after that?' 'Carthage, I think.' 'And then?' 'Oh,' said Pyrrhus, 'then we can settle down and enjoy what we have won.' 'But why,' replied his friend, 'can't you settle down now and begin to enjoy what you already have, without all this fighting?'

The simple life': a youth commune in Friesland

MONEY [25]

Passages from the Bible for further study

Mark 10, 17-301 Luke 18, 18-30J Luke 12, 13-21 Mark 12,41-44] Luke 21, 1-4 / Luke 20, 21-25 Matt. 6, 19-34 Luke 16, 1-8 Matt. 20, 1-15 Luke 16, 19-31 Luke 19, 1-10 Acts 2, 41-47

What hope is there for the rich? The rich man who was a pauper. Poverty and generosity. The rival claims of the state and religion. Why worry when you can pray? When dishonesty pays. "Unto this last". The responsibility of being rich. How Christ affects a rich man. Christian Communism.

For Discussion

1. What are the advantages of being well-off? 2. What is meant by the quotation, 'He who multiplies property multiplies worries?' Do you think that there are any other dangers in being rich? Consider, for example, the man who wins £750,000 from the football pools. 3. Make a list of six things you can really enjoy that cost nothing or very little. Do you make the most of them? 4. Recently it was reported that £10,000 was spent on a coming-out party, and £3000 on a wedding reception. Do you think that spending money on this scale is justified today? Is spending money 'like water' anti-social or should we take the view that a man has a right to do what he likes with his own money? 5. Christians are expected to give regularly to the Church and to good causes. Some tithe themselves for this purpose. Muslims are required to give 2l/t% of their income to support the poor in their community. There are many organisations and institutions that depend on public subscriptions to carry on their work, for example, the N.S.P.C.C., Children's Homes and Orphanages, and Christian Aid. (Can you think of others?)

[26] MONEY

6. 7. 8.

9.

10. 11. 12.

When we are earning ought we to set aside an amount regularly to give away in some direction or other? Is it a good plan to save regularly when you are young? If so, for what? What are the best ways of saving money? John Wesley said, 'Earn all you can; save all you can; give all you can.' Is this a good maxim? When you start work will you expect to pay your parents if you live at home a: less than it costs to keep you or b: exactly what it costs to keep you or c: more than it costs to keep you? If you marry and have a family will you expect a: the wife to take the wages, pay all the bills and allot spending money to her husband or b: the husband to control the expenditure and give his wife an allowance for housekeeping and personal expenses or c: take a joint responsibility for everything, regularly discussing your budget together? Each system has advantages. What are they? What are the advantages and disadvantages of hire purchase? 'I make a point of never having more than one thing at a time on H.P.' Do you think this is a good rule? If not, how would you modify it? Have you ever been misled by advertisements and bought something which did not match up to the claims made for it? Describe your experience. Make a budget for your weekly spending as though you had already begun work. If you don't know what you will earn, use one of the average figures for teenagers given in this chapter.

Race All men are brothers; all receive the blessings of the same heaven. Shinto saying. Do you love your Creator? Then love your fellowmen first. All God's children are his family, and he is most beloved of God who does most good to his creatures. Mohammed. Have we not all one Father? Has not one God created us all? Jewish saying. A man should treat all creatures in the world as he himself would like to be treated. Jain saying. You shall love your neighbour as yourself. Jesus. He has made of one blood all nations of men. Paul. Look at the map [on p. 28]. It gives you the names of the principal races of mankind and shows you where they lived before man became civilized and began to travel widely. There are five of them. Their names may be unfamiliar, but see if you can recognise them from the following descriptions (as given in Towards International Co-operation by Sulwyn Lewis). a: The Caucasoid: pale white to light brown skin, wavy, curly or straight hair, narrow nose. The males may have much body hair, b: The Mongoloid: yellowish or yellow-brown skin, coarse black head hair, brown eyes, prominent cheek-bones, little body hair and generally a fold in the upper eye-lid, c: The Negro: black skin, woolly or kinky head hair, broad, flat nose, small ears, thick lips, little body hair, d: The American Indian: brown or reddish skin, similar in other respects to Mongoloid with a less developed upper eye-lid fold, and a more prominent, convex nose, e: The Australoid: brown skin, wavy or curly hair, broad nose, receding chin and brow ridges. Facial and body hair similar in amount to Caucasoid. It is very important that we should learn as much about the races of mankind as possible. A century ago it would not have mattered at all, because 'foreigners'

[28] RACE

Mongoloid

|||[|[||Caucasoid

The original distribution of the principal races of mankind

were only people one heard strange tales about and rarely, if ever, met. Today, we not only meet them, but have to live and work with people of different races, and whether we can all live together in peace is not yet known. Liberty and equality are the big problems. Up to quite recent times, the white people seemed to be having the best of everything. They spread into many parts of the world and used their superior power to colonise, to build great empires and to rule millions of subject people. Then the two world wars in the first half of this century helped to destroy this power. As a result, though the white people still remain rich, most of the people they once ruled are now ruling themselves. In fact, a world-wide revolution is taking place. Subject people everywhere are claiming equality with those who once ruled them. They will not be satisfied until there are no more subject people or second-class citizens in the world. 1. 2.

In your school, are there children of other races beside your own? Which races are they? What do you know about life in those parts of the world from which they come? What did Paul mean by his words at the head of this chapter that all men are of one blood? Do any of the other quotations seem to agree with him? Do you also agree?

A white girl in Cicero, Chicago, carries a skunk to symbolize her attitude to the Negroes wishing to integrate her district.

[30]

RACE

No more subject races! There are still many places in the world where this is not true. Two of them which have serious racial problems are the U.S.A. and South Africa. America A small group of negro leaders were chatting on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. It was Thursday evening April 4, 1968. Suddenly, a shot rang out and one of them collapsed fatally wounded. He was Dr. Martin Luther King, aged 39, who had been the leader of the American negroes in their struggle for freedom and equality. His death was followed by the worst race riots that America has ever known. The four million negro slaves in America were freed by Abraham Lincoln in 1863. For a hundred years most of their descendants have existed, ill-housed, illeducated, ill-paid, frightened and bewildered in a country growing steadily richer and more powerful. Today there are nineteen million of them. Until recently they earned on average under half what a white man received for similar work. They have been the first to suffer from unemployment, for it is only recently that American trade unions have begun to give up their colour bar. In the northern cities many of them live in black ghettos, overcrowded and insanitary. In the south, laws which have been passed to give them fairer treatment, as for example in education, are often ignored. But in recent years the mood of the negroes has changed. Dr. King expressed their determination to win equality with white people. 'We want all our rights and we want them here and we want them now,' he declared. And in thirteen years he was able to win for them many concessions: the right to share travel, lunch counters, libraries and parks with white people. Like Gandhi he believed in non-violence. 'If you will protest courageously and yet with dignity and Christian love, when the history books are written in future generations, the historians will have to pause and say, 'There lived a great people a black people - who injected new meaning and new dignity into the veins of civilisation'.' Not everyone agreed with Dr. King. It is hard to see police dogs set on negro children, bombs thrown into crowded negro Sunday Schools, defenceless demonstrators clubbed and beaten with iron bars without feeling the urge to retaliate. 'If America don't come round, we've got to burn America down,' declared H. Rap Brown, a Black Power leader. Black Power intended to fight for freedom, and at a conference in Newark in 1967 demanded a division of America into

RACE [31]

black and white countries or, in other words, a negro republic inside the United States. Black Power has declined since then, which is fortunate because it could have led to much bloodshed. But advance is being made slowly in other ways. The Rev, Jesse Jackson, one of the principal black leaders, feels the best policy should be a non-militant one: the black community everywhere should insist on their rights and take their full place in society. South Africa The population of South Africa consists of just over four million whites and twenty million non-whites. The non-whites consist of Africans, Asians and Coloureds (mixed blood). Of these twenty million, eighteen and a half million are Africans. The white population is a mixture of people of British and Dutch origin. The Dutch are the more numerous and are known as Africaners; their language is Africaans. The non-whites have always been regarded as inferiors and are firmly controlled by the white inhabitants. Each of them, for instance, is required to carry a pass-book which records personal details and states the area in which the owner is allowed to live. Failure to produce one's pass-book on demand can result in arrest and detention. One is not allowed outside one's living area nor to move house nor to change one's job without permission. Large numbers of men, however, in order to provide the essentials of life for their families, are forced to leave their homes and work in industrial areas which can be hundreds of miles away. They are housed in huge hostels furnished with bunk beds in crowded dormitories. Their pay is generally only a fraction of white pay for similar work. They are allowed to return to their families for only one month in each year. Partly to overcome these inhuman conditions, some wives and families have tried moving to waste ground near the cities and have built for themselves corrugated iron shacks. These shanty towns are illegal and every so often the authorities have bull-dozed them at short notice. Sometimes at two or three in the morning. Black children, compared with white children, have very little spent on their education. The law requires that they be taught in Africaans which, of course, is not their native language and is of little use to them. This was one of the reasons for the protest organised in Soweto in 1976 when many children were killed and wounded by the police who are quite ruthless in stamping out opposition to the regime. Later, as adolescents, they have small chance of attending the country's universities which were built mainly by black labour.

Black Power salute from a policeman in Philadelphia

RACE [33J

South African negroes, unlike those in America, have no vote in national elections and cannot own freehold property. The formation of unions to protect their working interests has been strongly discouraged. In recent years the South African government has introduced a policy of "Homelands", by which it has set aside certain areas of land where Africans can live in independence. But as they are completely surrounded by white South Africa the independence must be far from complete. Moreover, the size of these areas is small compared with the rest of the country and with the large population they are expected to cater for. Young people of this generation are very concerned about justice and no doubt you feel indignant that anyone in the world can be treated in this way. These tragic conditions must be altered, and it is certainly true that if the white man does not alter them, the black people one day surely will, and not by peaceful means. In these circumstances what can anyone do? Processions and demonstrations of protest are popular nowadays. They are one way of 'letting off steam' but they don't achieve very much, because they do not offer any practical solution. Indignation is not enough. On more than one occasion Jesus made it clear that Christians should use their brains as well as their emotions. "Be as wise as serpents," he said. And men like Martin Luther King were successful because of their wise and thoughtful campaigning to improve conditions. We must not be one-sided in our judgments. In America, for instance, most white young people are no more responsible for the race problem than we are. It arose from events that took place centuries ago and for which other countries including Britain were partly responsible. This is also true of South Africa. There are many people in the United States and in South Africa working for better conditions. We might do well to study what they are doing and saying about them. The solution is not an easy one. Britain also has a race problem. It is estimated that by 1985 the number of the non-white people in Britain will have grown to two and a half million. The difficulties that these people have in settling in a 'white' country are reflected in two serious Acts that the British Parliament has passed: The Commonwealth Immigrants Act of 1962 and the Race Relations Act of 1968. 'Foreign Affairs' when your parents were young meant chiefly keeping the peace between nations. Now an even tougher problem has been added to it: keeping the peace between races. It is a new problem and in discussing it beware of ignorance and prejudice. Begin yourself, if you can, with an open mind and, if you want a point of view, read again what the great religions have to say at

Dr Martin Luther King

RACE [35]

the beginning of this chapter and remember the words of Martin Luther King, We must all learn to live together like brothers or we shall all perish together like fools. Passages from the Bible for further study. Matthew 23, 8-11 Galations 3, 20-28 Acts 10, 34-35 Matthew 5, 9 Romans 12, 10-21

All brothers All sons of God God accepts all nations Peacemakers Love one another

For Discussion On this subject, background knowledge is essential. Organised group research in class would be very helpful. 1. 2.

3. 4.

5. 6.

Find out all you can about the two acts of Parliament mentioned in this chapter. Are there any provisions in these Acts with which you disagree? Can you think of any other regulations that should be made? Study a map of the West Indies. Find out what life is like out there and then discuss the big differences immigrants from the West Indies will find when they settle in this country. If you know boys and girls who have come from the West Indies, persuade them, if you can, to give a talk to your class on this subject. The study in question 2 could well be repeated in reference to immigrants from other countries, Pakistan and India, for example. Write down three ways in which ordinary people can help to foster good relations between different races in this country. If you have immigrants in your class, their point of view will be important in discussing this question. Are there any race problems in the area in which you live? How do you think they should be solved? White people in South Africa feel that their problems are not understood by the people in Britain. It is all too easy, they think, for people 5000 miles away to pronounce judgement upon them; they do not have to face the situation themselves. In all fairness then, you should get someone who has lived in South Africa to speak to you on race problems and to answer your

A famous African doctor with his wife and children

RACE [37]

7.

8.

questions. Failing this, learn all you can about South Africa. Apart from encyclopaedias and other books in your library, information can be obtained from South Africa House, Institute of Race Relations (247 Pentonville Road, London Nl), Christian Action (Amen Court, London EC4), Commission for Racial Equality (Eliot House, Allington Street, London SW1) and short films from Concord Films Council (Ipswich, Suffolk). Find out a: when colonists first arrived in South Africa and where they came from b: what conditions were like when the first settlers arrived. c: how they developed the country, d: how the race problem gradually arose, e: what the 'whites' have done for the native population. With this information, you could arrange a good debate, especially if two or three of you took the part of South African school children whose families had been settled there for several generations. 'I wouldn't marry an English girl because it would not be fair to take her back to my own country where life for women is very different.' What are the problems of inter-racial marriage? Would you welcome a 'mixed marriage' in your family? Why? In what circumstances would it be wise? How would you reply to this type of comment? a: They're not civilised like us!' b: 'They come here and take our jobs.' c: 'A white man shouldn't have to take orders from a black boss.' d: 'Foreigners should stay in their own country.'

Work He who does not help to turn the rolling wheels of this great world lives a lost life. Hindu saying Say not, I am a great man and work is below my dignity. Jewish saying (The Talmud) If anyone does not work, neither should he eat. Paul God is gracious to him who earns his living by his own labour. Mohammed He who performs diligently and contentedly the work allotted to him, whatever it may be, lays hold of perfection. Hindu saying Never choose an occupation that is considered bad. Buddhist scriptures Give the labourer his wages before his perspiration is dry. Mohammed Whatever you do, do it to the glory of God. Paul Tm only here for the money!' Unfortunately there are millions of people who can say that quite truthfully about their daily work. We live in a machine age, and the more machines we have, the more man becomes a machine himself. His work becomes mechanical and boring and apart from the people he meets and the friends he makes, very little else attracts him about the job he does. An industrial chaplain who has spent many years working in different factories takes a very serious view of this. 'Modern machinery,' he says, 'is destroying men.' For such people there is some hope in the future. As mentioned in the chapter on Leisure, with the advance of automation the number of hours we have to work each day should be reduced. The best we can hope for,' said Bertrand Russell, 'is to diminish the hours of work. Four hours' boredom is a thing most people could endure without damage.' Of course, there are ways of avoiding the dull, mechanical jobs, if you have the will and the ability to do so. One is — as you have no doubt been told many times - to get the highest qualifications you can while you are still at school. Another is to accept lower wages for a year or two in order to learn a trade or profession. This is especially important during periods of high employment.

[40] WORK

Don't be 'wise after the event'! A factory doctor made a survey of nearly 2000 teenagers between 15 and 18 years of age. He reports meeting a considerable number who said the same thing: how sorry they were that their parents had not insisted on that extra year at school or on the apprenticeship that was open to them when they left. Parents who tend to say, 'Please yourself are not always being kind. Lest you think this argument is just another case of 'being got at,' take a look at the medical evidence. Dr. Peter Taylor, an acknowledged expert on absenteeism in industry made a detailed study of the subject. He says, 'What we do find is that absenteeism is highest in people who lack job satisfaction . .. The illnesses brought on by such problems of 'job dissatisfaction' are real enough. Nervous anxiety produces real backaches, real headaches, real peptic ulcers, real heart ailments. People who get an illness in this way have even been known to die of it.' This is why you should take great care in choosing and preparing for your job. It is an important decision you have to make at the wrong end of life, when you still know next to nothing about the work-a-day world. Listen to everybody with experience of it. Many things they have learnt can help you in your choice. In addition, there are books on careers in the library and the Department of Education and Science issue pamphlets giving information on a great number of jobs. The lucky people, perhaps, are those that know well beforehand exactly what they want to do with their lives. Some of them have what is called 'a sense of vocation.' 'Vocation' comes from a Latin word meaning 'to call.' A vocation is a calling and has usually to do with religion. People feel called by God to give some service to the community. Money and hours of work don't matter as much as the work itself. Christianity, in particular, has had this effect on men and women in every generation. Many of the greatest reforms have been brought about by such people. For many years, for example, not a single hospital or school existed among the very poor nations except those built and staffed by Christian pioneers. In Matthew 25 Christ speaks about the need to help the hungry, the lonely, the ill-clothed, the sick and the prisoner. 'Anything you do,' he says, 'for one of these my brothers, however, humble, you do it for me.' But one does not need to be religious to have a vocation. 'Mr. F. has left us,' the estate agent told me one day. 'He has gone to take up work helping people discharged from prison. He has wanted to do it for a long time. He's given up a very good salary.' Many people, like Mr. F., just feel that the world is in a bad

WORK [41]

state and that there is something that they could be good at doing which would help to make things better. In one sense, almost any job can be looked upon in this way, for when we do something really well we are giving satisfaction not only to ourselves but also to those we do it for. Every day, people suffer inconvenience, annoyance, and sometimes sheer misery from work badly and inefficiently done. A good workman benefits everyone. This is particularly true for Christians. Dr. Wilfred Grenfell, who spent his life in helping the Eskimos in Labrador, said, 'Following Christ is doing something, anything well.' 1: 2:

Read the Hindu saying at the beginning of this chapter. Do you agree with it? Give your reasons. Write down a list of all the jobs that you think can be specially called vocations. What makes them so?

Before you leave school you reach the fifth or sixth form. Probably you win prizes, do well in sport or some other activity. You may even become a prefect! In any case, as a senior pupil you are important and count for something. Then the time comes to leave and start work and suddenly your position is reversed. You are once again a junior among older people. The hours are long, the work at first rather trivial and boring and you don't lord it over anybody any more. At first you may be overwhelmed by the adult world in which you find yourself. Then gradually the shyness wears off and you feel accepted. You begin almost unconsciously to copy the dress, speech and manners of those about you. In this desire to conform you may come up against another problem. You discover that the usual standards of behaviour accepted in school and at home are challenged. You meet people who, so far as their job is concerned, ridicule honesty and truthfulness. Whilst they would never steal from you, they will steal quite cheerfully from the firm. 'Everybody does it!' they declare, whether it refers to petty pilfering or lying about the work they do. What are you to do? You can't say very much and you can't alter things. It is really a question of whether you have the moral courage to stick to your own principles (where possible) and risk being laughed at. It will be strange if you can go through your life without your moral courage being challenged at all. Sometimes the decision is not easy to make. Take this for example:

[42] WORK

What are you going to do, Jim? I'm going in to work on Monday. What else? You're not! You won't be popular, you know. I can't help that. I didn't vote for the strijce, did I? This is a free country, isn't it? I don't think it's right to stay out. I've got to do what I think's right, haven't I? You've got to think about the wife and kids, Jim. They could suffer as well as you. Oh, I'm sick of this place! There's never any peace. Half the disputes are just plain stupid. And look at the unemployed. Aren't there enough of them? If we go on like this we'll all be out of a job soon. Jim is obviously worried. He has a loyalty to his conscience, his family, his mates and his firm. 1: 2: 3:

What is the easiest thing for Jim to do? What advice would you give him in these circumstances? Suppose everybody similarly placed took your advice, would that be a good thing? Why?

Working conditions will no doubt alter a great deal during your lifetime. For example, you have heard of 'Women's Lib.' (Women's Liberation Movement)? This movement wants complete equality between the sexes especially in regard to work and the home. Years ago it was generally acknowledged that 'a woman's place is in the home.' Many married women are quite satisfied with this role and want nothing else. But increasing numbers of them now go out to work. They prefer an outside occupation and, of course, it helps to swell the family income. But what happens when children come? The woman has to give up her job and, if there are a number of children, she is tied to the home for some years. Women'i Lib. argues that a woman trained for her job is as important as a man (certainly, the country could not run without women working). She should therefore be able to keep her job. But what about the family? Is the answer the day nursery everywhere, as in Russia? (We discuss this under 'Family.') Or should the husband and wife share in running the home, working possibly alternate weeks? It is an interesting problem. What do you think about it?

WORK [43]

Passages from the Bible for further study

Matt. 25, 14-29 Matt. 25,31-45 Luke 12, 13-21 Col. 3, 23,24

What God expects of us A Christian's duty Working for the wrong reasons A Christian's reasons for work

[44] WORK

Acts 18,1-4 \ IIThess.3,7-12) Proverbs 6,6-11 Proverbs 26, 13-16

Paul works for a living The penalties of idleness. (No welfare state!) The slothful man

For Discussion

1. 2.

3. 4.

5. 6. 7.

What is the difference between having a lot to live on and having a lot to live for? Give examples, if you can of both. If you had to choose one or the other, which would you go for? Bishop Huddleston, who spent many years working among Africans in South Africa, said that one of the main differences between the African and the Englishman was the Englishman's need for security. The African lives for today; the Englishman, for tomorrow. Why do you think this is so? What effect does it have on your choice of a job? Why do all the quotations at the head of this chapter stress the need to work whether you are rich or poor? Comment on the following: a: Those who work hardest grumble least. b: No-one works unless he is paid for it. c: Everybody does a little bit of fiddling when he can. d: You can't be in business and remain a Christian. In school what subjects do you like best? Why do you like them? Does this help you in thinking about what you would like to do when you leave? Make a list of a: poor reasons b: good reasons for choosing a job. Write down three jobs you could be seriously interested in. Find out all you can about them (Careers teacher, school library, Youth Employment Service, Department of Education and Science). Write down against each a: Why you are attracted to the job b: The qualifications needed c: The starting wages d: The prospects (promotion, etc.)

8. 9.

W O R K [45]

Find out all you can about the Tolpuddle Martyrs and write a short essay on Trade Unions. In a recent survey of young people at work, the following statement was made: 'Young people from homes with a religious background showed a noticeable sense of responsibility.' Why do you think this is so?

War and violence Weapons of war are tools of evil; those who truly admire them are murderers at heart. Tao saying Where troops march, there will thorns spring up; and where armies are gathered, there famine will enter. Tao saying Never steal, never kill, and never do anything you may later regret or be ashamed of. Buddha Fight in the way of Allah with those who fight you, but you do not begin the hostilities; for A llah does not love aggressors. Mohammed They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. Isaiah As much as lies within your power, live peaceably with all men. Paul Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Jesus World War I ended at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918. It had meant nothing, solved nothing, and proved nothing; and in so doing had killed 8,538,315 men and seriously wounded 21,219,452. Of 7,750,919 others taken prisoner or missing, well over a million were later presumed dead; thus the total deaths (not counting civilians) approached ten million. One of the war leaders (Woodrow Wilson) later admitted that the war had been fought for business interests; another (David Lloyd George) had told a newspaperman, 'If people really knew, the war would be stopped tomorrow, but of course they don't - and can't know. The correspondents don't write and the censorship wouldn't pass the truth. The thing is horrible, and beyond human nature to bear, and I feel I cannot go on any longer with the bloody business....'.' (In Flanders Fields by Leon Wolff) World War II is nearer our time. It cannot be said that it solved no problem, for it overthrew a terrible tyranny - Nazism. But the cost again was tremendous, mainly in terms of civilian lives in crowded cities, concentration camps and as refugees fleeing from their ruined homes. For example, on February 14 and 15,

WAR AND VIOLENCE [47]

1945, 135,000 people were killed in British and American air attacks on one city alone, Dresden (twice as many as died from the atom bomb on Hiroshima). Afterwards it was admitted that the attack on Dresden was really unnecessary to the winning of the war. What of future wars? Bombs can now be used that are 500 times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb which killed 70,000 people. President Kennedy was saying as far back as 1963 that 'a full scale nuclear exchange, lasting less than sixty minutes could wipe out more than 300 million Americans, Europeans and Russians, as well as untold numbers elsewhere/ Today, the devastation would be much greater even than this and what the late Russian leader, Kruschev, told the Chinese is all the more true now. Those that survived a nuclear war/ he said, 'would envy the dead.' So the nuclear war of the future will mean race suicide. Despite this obvious fact, the Great Powers still manufacture nuclear weapons and invent elaborate warning systems which will enable them to let loose this mass destruction at a few minutes' notice. The old Balance of Power in the world has now been replaced by the Balance of Terror. Think too of the 'small wars' that have taken place in the world during the last few years. None of these could have happened if the Great Powers had not permitted the manufacture and sale of armaments. This is a very profitable business and it is estimated that more than thirty million people in the world are engaged on the making and distributing of arms. The cost to mankind, too, is enormous. Britain, for example, spends about £2.82 per week per head of the population on Defence compared with £3.33 on Education and 27 p on helping under-developed countries. This problem of war is linked with two other problems we have considered, race and poverty. There is no doubt that world disaster awaits us all unless more and more people in every country join forces to solve them. World rulers eventually would pay attention to the growing and insistent demands of those they rule. 1: 2:

Look at the first Tao saying at the beginning of this chapter. Do you agree with it? How are the problems of race and world poverty linked with war and violence?

The violence of war may seem a long way off, but what about the violence of peace? This is on our door-step. Here, for example, are some random items of news: "Nineteen policemen were injured last night as they battled with a rampaging mob of youths. The rioters swept through the streets of

Hiroshima 1945

RSPCA 1971 (with help from local Fire Brigade)

WAR AND VIOLENCE [51]

Bristol looting shops and setting fire to cars and buildings. After six hours of clashes the police pulled out of the city's battered St. Paul's area". "Police fired tear gas to break up rioting of British soccer fans during England's opening European championship match against Belgium in Turin. About 100 British fans charged across the partially filled terraces and dozens of fights broke out. Six spectators were taken to hospital, one with serious head injuries". ''Horrific week-end riots broke out in Miami after three policemen were cleared of beating a black man to death. The violence left nineteen dead, most of them whites, savagely massacred by gangs of enraged blacks. Later frenzied car loads of "White avengers" roared through the streets opening fire at random on black pedestrians". Crimes of violence have increased rapidly over the last ten years. In many cities there are areas now where ordinary citizens cannot walk about at night in safety. Much of this violence is the work of young people moving about in gangs and in many cases there is no sense or reason behind it. People are injured, sometimes killed, as a group of young men admitted recently, just 'for the fun of it.' More serious still is the official sanction given to violence. In many countries it is commonplace for the police to use great brutality against demonstrators and to 'beat-up' those whom they arrest. Governments permit and appear to encourage the torture and persecution of those that oppose them. In 1948 the United Nations issued 'A Universal Declaration of Human Rights.' In it they declared that men are born free and equal in rights and dignity. Everyone should enjoy freedom of thought, conscience, speech and religion and should have equal protection before the law. For millions, today, this declaration must seem to be a mockery. What do world religions teach about this problem? Buddhism is pacifist. The quotation from Buddha at the head of this chapter emphasises this. Apart from Japanese Buddhism, Buddhists have generally set an excellent example to the world of living at peace and not resorting to war. They are so concerned about war in the west that they send missionaries to Europe to convert us to Buddhism. Mohammed sanctioned war, in particular where it was in defence of his teaching. He was, in fact, a great warrior himself. The Holy War' was common in the early days, when his religion was spreading rapidly. Today, the Arab world will fight to defend land and property and do so in the name of Allah. The Jews in their early history fought for land and in defence of it. They did so

[52] WARANDVIOLENCE

feeling the blessing of God was upon them. This is true today when they fight in defence of Israel. The greatest puzzle, you may think, is Christianity. 'Do not set yourself against the man who wrongs you. If someone slaps you on the right cheek, turn and offer him your left. If a man in authority makes you go one mile, go with him two.' 'Love your enemies and pray for your persecutors . . . . If you do not forgive others then the wrongs you have done will not be forgiven by your Father.' Surely these words of Jesus are as pacifist as any words of Buddha! Yet the two great wars of this century were fought mainly between Christian countries. The history of Christian civilisation is one of recurring wars, some even begun by the Christian church. A Christian priest is not allowed to take up arms but he may bless the members of his congregation when they go to war. Is this a denial of the teaching of Jesus? Many Christians think so. Amongst them are the Quakers, who in time of war are conscientious objectors. That is, they will take any action to help the victims on either side - and many have shown great bravery in this — but they will not fight. The majority of Christians, however, seem to think that the spread of tyranny, such as Hitler's, should be stopped at all costs, and that Christ would approve of fighting to defend one's homeland from it. They also believe it is a Christian duty to stop the violent criminal by any means necessary. On both sides of this argument you have thoughtful views held by very sincere people. It would be foolish to accuse either side of hypocrisy. What do you think is the teaching of Jesus on this subject, and how should it be applied today? First you should read for yourself the teaching and example of Jesus as given to us in the passages for study below. Passages from the Bible for further study

Matt. 5, 38-48 Matt. 26, 52 Luke 9, 51 —56 Luke 23, 32—34 Matt. 10, 28 Romans 13, 1-10 Colossians 3, 12-17 Ephesians 6, 10—17

Loving your enemies Jesus and the sword Jesus rebukes James and John Jesus forgives his enemies Those who kill the body Obeying the government Forgiving and loving one another The armour of God

An eight metre figure of Christ, made out of the metal of Argentinian guns, erected in 1904 3500 metres above sea level on the boundary of Argentina and Chile. On the granite plinth these words are inscribed: 'Sooner shall these mountains crumble into dust than shall Argentinians and Chileans break the peace which, at the feet of Christ the Redeemer they have sworn to maintain.'

[54] WARANDVIOLENCE For Discussion

1. 'We act with ruthlessness like a steamroller - bombing extensive areas, and not selected targets based on detailed intelligence' General Johnson, U.S. Chief of Staff - the Vietnam War.

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

10.

Do you consider that the use of force a: by a nation or b: by an individual is ever justified? If your answer to (a) is no, what are the effective alternatives? 'Don't let it happen; do something now!' we are told. How do you think nuclear war can be avoided? What can ordinary people do to prevent its taking place? You should consider here the possible causes of future wars. Find out and discuss our own country's policy in regard to nuclear weapons. Write to the United Nations Association (address p. 16) for information about how it is constituted and how it works. Find out why the U.N. failed in its early years and how it has recovered some of its authority. How can it be made more effective in solving world problems? Find out what you can about the International Court of Justice. Why is it not being used today to settle the most serious international disputes? A famous British judge, Lord Justice Birkett, said that he considered that no violence should be shown on television. Do you agree? Give your reasons. What makes young people act violently? What can be done about it? Keep the copies of your daily newspaper for one week. Then list briefly all the acts of violence reported in them. The different kinds of violence in your lists could then be discussed in class and also the means that ordinary citizens could take to reduce them. How can a: the police b: magistrates and judges c: the government help to reduce crimes of violence?

leisure He who sees how action may be rest and rest action - he is wisest among his kind; he has the truth. He does well acting or resting. Hindu saying. Be still and know that I am God. Psalms. If you take no liberties, your liberties will not be curtailed. Confucianist saying. With coarse food to eat, water to drink, and a bent arm for a pillow, happiness may still be found. Confucius. 'What are you going to do with your spare time?' This question may soon become as important for the Careers teacher to ask as What job do you want to do?' Just over a century ago a small boy gave this account of himself to a Commission of Enquiry: I am thirteen. I do not know how long I have worked. I wedge clay for a thrower. I come at 6 o'clock. . . I sometimes give over at 6.30 at night, sometimes at 7 and 8.1 get 4/6 a week. I can yt read. I go to school sometimes on Sundays. There was not much leisure for him, nor even for people at the beginning of this century when hours of work were very long. In fact, some people worked nearly all their waking hours just to provide food and shelter for themselves and their children. Today we are better off. Only half our waking hours are normally spent at work and we get two or three or even four weeks' paid holiday a year. The future is going to be even brighter. By the end of the 1980's, we are told, most people will not even start work till their mid-twenties and will retire in their mid-fifties. During their working life they will have about three leisure days per week. By means of the silicon chip, this could very well happen it it were utilised for the benefit of everyone. But will it be brighter? Leisure, like money, can be a great deceiver. The more we have of it, we imagine, the happier we shall be. This, in your case, could be quite untrue. 'Work never did anyone any harm,' it is sometimes said. But leisure can be disastrous.

Junkies in Piccadilly Circus

LEISURE [57]

Time 7 p.m. Any evening of the week. David and Terry are propping up a wall at the end of the street. John appears across the road. David Hi John! Where are you off to? John Nowhere. (He crosses the road) What's on tonight? Terry Don't know. You say. John What about the Club then? David Closed. Old Bowdler's on holiday. John Let's go to the caff. Terry No money. John You don't need any. We just sit near the door and scarper when . .. Terry Do we? Ha! Ha! Ha! You tell that to my Dad. 1 shall get half killed if I get into trouble again. (A long silence) David Oh, come on, I'm bored. Let's do something quick. John Hey, boys! See what I see? David What? John Over there — those two! Terry Two of the Anselm mob, ain't it? John Come on, quick! Let's kick 'em in! What happens then may well end up in hospital and/or the police station. Cause? Surplus energy without outlet. Result? Boredom. And boredom breeds trouble. Every year over a million pounds worth of damage is done to trains, railway track and fencing. Stone throwing injures crews and passengers, signals and telegraph apparatus are damaged, hundreds of carriages ripped up. And we, the general public, meekly pay for it all. But some things can never be paid for. A stone dropped from a bridge killed a train driver recently. At the time of writing two small girls have died, falling over the edge of a cliff. Someone with nothing better to do smashed the fence guarding the danger area. Hooliganism, much of it unreported, accounts for damage and suffering on a wide scale and is mainly the result of boredom. So of course are drug taking and alcoholism, both of which are seriously on the increase. Older people, too, suffer from boredom. Television becomes a nightly drug (turn it on when you come in from work; turn it off at bedtime). The remarkable spread of Bingo and other forms of gambling accounts for eight thousand million pounds worth of spending in Britain every year.

LEISURE [59]

Yet we live in a marvellous world and a wonderful age. Science has opened up for us activities and interests never known before in the history of man. 'I shall be away for a fortnight,' said my window-cleaner the other day. Tm going to Algiers for my holiday.' Fifty years ago it is doubtful if a window-cleaner could have afforded the time and money to go to Southend or Blackpool for a weekend. 1: 2: 3:

When during the day or the week do you find yourself getting bored? What can you do to prevent it? Drinking on the Increase Over 100,000 arrests for drunkeness are taken annually through the courts. In 1978, according to the Chief Constable's report, there were 108,000 proved offences compared with 99,274 five years previously. A report on ''Alcohol and Work'9 stresses that teenagers can slip into alcoholism and have problems much more quickly than older people. Why is this so, do you think? What reasons, other than boredom, account for people drinking too much? Why in the last five years is there an increase in offenders?

You may be among the lucky ones who have no problems in filling in their leisure time or you may be among the many that moan because, for example, There isn't a decent club round here. There's nothing to do at night. Everything's dead!' There may be good reason for your complaint, but it is little use moaning about it. In any case, the world isn't going to devote itself to making you happy. You will have to do it for yourself. Think about your leisure time sensibly and do some planning for it, especially in school holidays. There is nothing so exhausting as doing nothing. The best definition of hell,' said Bernard Shaw, 'is a perpetual holiday.' Look at the word 'recreation.' Your spare time should help you to re-create your mind and body after a day's or a week's work. If it does just that, you will get some real satisfaction from it. But what are you to do? Work carefully through the questions at the end of this chapter. If there is nothing at all that appeals to you, it will be a judgement on your character, rather than on the world in which you are living. Religious people do not have difficulty with this problem. This may seem

[60] LEISURE

surprising, since there are so few quotations at the head of this chapter. But Christianity, for example, is a way of life, and Christ's teaching governs both leisure and work. A large group of young people connected with a local church have the following regular activities: helping the physically handicapped visiting a Children's Home decorating playgroups reading to the blind helping at a men's care unit holiday work camps scouts and guides work with did people and in youth clubs Amnesty International tape-recording hospital messages singing to down and outs hobbies club for children visiting prisoners and hospital patients Many young people today, Christian or otherwise, show themselves keen to help other people in need, if they can find a means of doing it. Some of these activities are suitable for your age group. There are many others, and an organisation like Task Force would put you in touch with them. Passages from the Bible for further study

Matt. 25, 31 -46 Luke 10, 25—42 Mark 6, 30—32 Romans 12

active leisure service and meditation prayer and meditation Christian brotherliness

By map and compass: a six days' trek in pursuit of a Duke of Edinburgh's Scheme Gold Award

Task Force at work

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For Discussion

1. The Opinion Research Centre made a special investigation into spare time activities in Britain. (The results were reported in the London Evening Standard.) People were asked to say to which two activities they gave most spare time and the following details emerged: II Most time given

/ Most enjoy doing

Watching television Doing jobs about the house Following a hobby of some sort Gardening Reading newspapers and magazines Reading books Talking to family or friends Going out to a pub Going out to social activities Playing sport Going to watch sport Dancing Doing office work at home Going out to the cinema Doing nothing in particular

Men

Women

Men

Women

% 28 12 19 19 15 14 11 26 12 17 18 3

% 36 12 24 12 15 19 26 8 20 3 2 10

% 42 23

1 2

6 3

% 50 34 23 14 15 17 20 3 10 2 1 4 1 2 2

18

21 17 13 6 17 10 14 10 2 3 2 2

a: Compare columns I and II. Why, in reference to 'Doing jobs about the house' are the figures much higher in Col. II than in Col. I? b: Why is this also so in regard to 'Watching television?' c: Find other activities where the reverse is true — Col. I higher than Col. II. In each case what do you think is the reason? d: What do you consider the most interesting activity in this list and why? 2. Make a list of teenage activities and work out a percentage chart for your class or group.

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3. The report on "Alcohol and Work" already quoted states that there are 740,000 people in the United Kingdom with serious drink problems. The cost to industry alone is enormous, reckoned at £100 million annually at the lowest and it could be much higher. Alcoholics lose on average 121.7 working days per year whereas the national average is 15.9. At work they become inefficient and are prone to accidents. What other ways of spending leisure time can be bad for health and work or cause inconvenience and annoyance to other people? 4. Getting to know people and making friends can be one of the greatest pleasures in life. Make a list of youth clubs and other organizations, such as scouts and guides, in your neighbourhood. Do you belong to any of them? If not, what reason have you against joining? 5. From your discussion of question 4 plan what you would consider to be an ideal club for young people in the area where you live. 6. Do you know any recreation, entertainment or other activity your local authority organises? Elect one of the class to write to the Council (if your library has not already got the information) and ask for details. You may be surprised as what you discover. 7. What have you read or seen on T.V. about the recreational activities of young people in other countries? Can we learn anything from them? 8. Many people find greater pleasure in reading than in anything else. Are you one of them? If not, has anyone really helped you to select books that you might like to read? You may easily be discouraged by the sight of thousands of books in a library, not knowing where to look for a book that will appeal to you. How can you overcome this difficulty? 9. Make a list of all the hobbies you have heard of. Which do you think is or might be most interesting? If you have a hobby or are thinking about one, do you know any person, book or evening class that could help you? 10. Aristotle, a famous Greek thinker, said The true aim of education is the right use of leisure.' How do you think day schools might help young people to employ their leisure time? Could you suggest a series of talks and excursions? 11. From your enquiries suggested in question 6 are there any other facilities you think the local council might provide for leisure time activities? 12. Why do you think religions generally seem to have very little to say about the use of leisure? What is necessary, do they teach, for the restoration of mind and body?

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Some useful addresses Are you interested in: helping people?

parachute jumping or parascending?

Write to Task Force, 1 Thorpe Close, LondonW10 Write to The British Parachute Association; Kimberley House 47 Vaughan Way Leicester LEI 4SG

sports and outdoor life?

Write to The Outward Bound Trust, 360 Oxford Street, London Wl

sailing barges?

Write to The Thames Barge Sailing Club, The National Maritime Museum, Romney Road, London SE10

Government Where there is no vision the people perish. Proverbs The world is preserved by three things; truth, justice and peace. Jewish Mishnah To govern simply by statute and to maintain order by means of penalties is to render the people evasive and devoid of a sense of shame. Confucius Let good men manage a country for a century and crime mil disappear. Confucius The essentials of a good government are a sufficiency of food, a sufficiency of arms, and the confidence of the people. Confucius Decisions on important matters should not be made by one person alone. Shinto saying He is fit to govern who loves all people as he loves himself. Tao-te-King Govern a large country as you would fry a small fish — without overdoing it. Tao-te-King The more prohibitions, the more poverty; the more laws, the more crimes; the more skills, the more luxuries; the more weapons, the more chaos. Tao-te-King The ideal land is small, its people few, its tools ten times or even a hundred times beyond their needs. These people live and die and never emigrate. They have weapons and armour that are never displayed. Their food is sweet; their clothes adorned; their houses at peace, and their customs full of charm. The neighbouring lands are so close that each may hear the other's crowing cocks and barking dogs. Yet men grow old and never once exchange a contentious call. Tao-te-king There's always something to grumble about - if it isn't the weather, it's the government!' So many people, in fact, in so many countries grumble about politicians and blame the government for the state of their country, that you might very well ask, 'If governments are so unpopular, why do we have them at all?' They are certainly very expensive. In Britain, for example, to make our system of government work we employ over 700,000 civil servants and 800,000 local government officers.

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It may seem absurd to suggest that we could do without government altogether, but there have always been people who argued seriously that government on the scale we know it is quite unnecessary. One of the earliest was Li Urh, a Chinese, whose sayings you will find in the quotations under 'Tao-te-King.' He lived at a time when China was divided into separate states and the behaviour of the nobles who controlled them was so appalling that Li Urh despaired of government altogether. 'There has been such a thing as letting mankind alone; there has never been such a thing as governing mankind,' he declared. Even when Confucius came along with laws for good government, he treated him as an interfering busybody. 'Leave people alone,' he said, 'and they will live at peace. The more laws, the more crimes; the more prohibitions, the more poverty.' Anarchy is the modern name for this idea. The word means 'no-rule', and anarchists believe that government as we know it simply preserves the injustices and inequalities that exist, and that the rich use it to keep the vast fortunes they have made out of other people's labour. Get rid of it and oppression and force especially military force - will disappear. Karl Marx, the founder of modern Communism, had similar ideas. In the final stage of the Communist Revolution central government would just 'wither away.' What would happen then? People would be able to organise their lives together in much smaller groups where every man's opinion and vote would count for something. All kinds of associations would be formed — industrial, commercial, educational - to work together in friendly agreement. One example of this today, is international travel. By voluntary agreements between nations we can travel almost anywhere by land, sea and air. Such friendly arrangements could be made to cover the whole of our life and work. There would then be no more conflict between government and governed, no more political prisoners and no more war between nations. Unfortunately, the popular meaning of anarchy is disorder and confusion, since anarchists have often been associated with bomb throwing. They do, in fact, believe in violent revolution and therefore their ideas on government have rarely been considered seriously. 1.

How would the anarchist idea apply to your school? Suppose there was no 'rule from the top,' and that each form ran its own affairs with various representatives from every form meeting to discuss matters that overlapped. Do you think such a system would work? What advantages and disadvantages would arise?

[68] GOVERNMENT

Head of Karl Marx on his tomb in Highgate Cemetary, London

2.

Would such a system of control give you less or more interest in your school?

Abraham Lincoln defined the most popular form of government today, democracy, as government of the people by the people for the people. Had you lived in Athens 2500 years ago you would have seen a fine example of it. All the citizens attended an Assembly in the market-place three times a month

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and were paid their expenses for doing so. They could all speak and vote on the business of the city. They elected (by lot, to prevent corruption) their own officers to deal with day to day affairs, and everyone expected at some time to hold office. If you compare the few thousand citizens who decided the affairs of Athens with the fifty million population of the United Kingdom you can see why our modern democracy doesn't work in the same way. Britain is divided into population areas called constituencies, and at every election in each of them candidates are voted for. Those who get the most votes are elected to Parliament. The most, therefore, that many citizens in Britain do towards the government of their own country is to pay their taxes and put a cross on a piece of paper say once every five years. Here are the total figures for the 1979 election. Total electorate: Total votes cast:

41,093,264 31,222,279 Percentage of total vote

Seats in Parliament

Party

Votes cast

Conservative Labour Liberal Communist Welsh and Scottish Nationalists Others

13,697,753 11,509,524 4,313,931 16,858

43.9 36.9 13.8 0.1

339 268 11

636,803 1,045,921

2.0 3.4

4 13

Some questions for the mathematicians in the class: 1. 2.

A Conservative government was formed as a result of the election. About what fraction of the total electorate voted for them? On the percentage of votes cast, the Liberals should have had 87 seats. How many did they get? Work out, if you can, the number of seats the Nationalists and the Others should have had according to the votes cast.

You will have discovered that only a third of the total electorate put the government into power, and that many people's views were hardly represented at all (over six million in this election). This is often the case after a general election. Two other methods of voting have been suggested which would give a better

[70] GOVERNMENT

representation of the people. They are the Alternative Vote and Proportional Representation. But no government in power has ever yet considered a change. Why do you think this is? If you are just one person among over forty million able to cast a vote, you may feel that your vote doesn't count for very much. In the election we have been studying nearly one out of every four of the electorate didn't vote. In council elections the fraction of non-voters is usually much higher. For example, in the Greater London Council elections of 1977 only 43.4% of the electors voted. The British parliament is sometimes referred to as The Mother of Parliaments.' This is because the British democratic system dates back hundreds of years and other nations have based their own system of government upon it. It has provided steady government and a peaceful way of life in Britain for a very long time. It is just because of this that people are apt to take it for granted and to assume that it never can be altered or improved in any way. 1. 2. 3.

List half a dozen reasons why people don't vote in elections. Are any of them justifiable? What could happen if less and less people took an interest in politics? What do you think could be done to make government by the people more effective?

But what of communism as a form of government? Over 1,400,000,000 people live under Communist rule - one third of the world population. This system is really an alternative to capitalism, not to democracy, though no democratic communism exists anywhere in the world. Communism is revolutionary socialism, and socialism is the belief that industry should no longer be in private hands for the benefit of the few but under public control for the benefit of everyone. Many people who accept this view believe that the change from private to public ownership can be brought about by act of parliament. Karl Marx said this was impossible. Real socialism could be achieved only by revolution — the violent overthrow of the capitalists. According to him there are three main stages in the change from capitalism to communism: Revolution. All the workers unite and throw out the capitalists by force and take control themselves. Provisional government. A period of a few years follows the revolution, during which the country becomes settled. While this is going on, leading communists who have seized power govern the country on behalf of the people. The Communist State. All power will now be in the hands of the people. A classless society of complete equality and justice will appear. Central government

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will disappear and the control of life and work will be achieved by friendly agreements between the workers. Russia has had communism for over sixty years, but stage 3, the Communist State, as Marx described it, has never come. Central government remains as strong as ever. So, in fact, we have no democracy, as Lincoln defined it, in communist countries. Elections are held and the Russian government has often boasted that almost 100% of the people have voted. But they can vote only from prepared lists of communist party members. Only about one in twenty Russians belong to the party, so none of the other nineteen can stand as candidates. Government is in fact entirely in the hands of the privileged few. Russia has made tremendous headway, perhaps because it is not a democracy. In half a century it raised 240,000,000 people from primitive poverty to a remarkable level of education and prosperity, and their country has become one of the most powerful in the world. But to do this there has been a pitiless sacrifice of human life, which no democracy would ever tolerate. "East West Digest" for January 1980 gives the following death statistics: 1917-1924 Warfare, famine, organised killing 14,000,000 1918-1919 Maltreatment and murder in prisons 1,760,000 1932-1933 Organised starvation and murder of peasants 10,000,000 1918-1975 Slave labour camps 23,000,000 Wherever Communism has penetrated, for example, East Germany, Poland, Yugoslavia, Albania, Hungary, China, Tibet, North Korea, Indo-China, Cuba, Afghanistan, its progress has been marked by widespread inhuman slaughter. Accurate figures are clearly difficult to come by and those given above are only a fraction of the total. D.G. Stewart-Smith, editor of "East West Digest" estimated over ten years ago that the Marxist-Lenin experiment had already accounted for the death of between eighty and a hundred and twenty million people, great numbers of whom were murdered in cold blood. After over sixty years of communist rule Russia remains a police state. People are still spied upon, their homes searched, themselves arrested, interrogated and detained for long periods. Imprisonment or forced labour is the penalty for criticising the government, as many writers, artists and people with religious convictions have discovered. If nothing worse befalls you, you may be confined to a hospital or sanatorium for drug treatment, since your views are considered a sign of mental derangement.

[72] GOVERNMENT

Similar things are happening in many non-communist countries. Torture and brutality towards political prisoners is widely practised. 'A concrete windowless tomb' is a description of a prominent political prisoner's cell, where he is being treated 'like a wild beast.' Very many people are concerned about what is going on and one voluntary society, Amnesty International, has for twenty years devoted great efforts to helping these wretched victims of political persecution. It has a membership of a quarter of a million in 134 countries. Each year it deals with an average of 5000 individual cases of known or possible prisoners of conscience in more than seventy countries. In the course of three years recently 4,907 prisoners were released. Though Amnesty makes no direct claim for their release, there is no doubt that its influence in achieving it has been very considerable. 1. 2.

'Russia has made tremendous headway, perhaps because it is not a democracy.' How would you explain this statement? What do people mean when they say, The ends justify the means?' A Russian communist would probably say this about the recent history of his own country. Would you agree with him?

You may have noticed that there are no quotations from the New Testament at the head of this chapter. Jesus was no politician. When an eager crowd wanted to carry him off and make him King, he quickly disappeared. Throughout his lifetime an underground movement existed to overthrow the Roman rule. He took no part in it nor sided with any other political party. Yet all government is judged by his standards. He taught that all men are God's children and as such they should enjoy equality and justice and share together the fruits of the earth. These are the standards which all countries claiming to be Christian must accept. Christ would condemn much of what is going on in the world today. But what can be done about it? Here is an item of news: RUSSIA LETS THE JEWS GO A big exodus of Jews from Russia to Israel appears to be underway. For very many years the Jews in Russia have been agitating for permission to leave the country. Their treatment by the Russian government has become widely

GOVERNMENT [73]

Manchester City Council in session

known and condemned. It is possible, therefore, that world opinion may have influenced this decision. However this may be, it is certainly true that governments do not like continued criticism and that, in the long run, they are influenced by public opinion: Equality, justice and freedom. Vast numbers of people everywhere accept these ideals, but either they do not know what is going on in the world (if they live under dictatorships) or many of them feel quite helpless. 'What can anyone do?' they exclaim in despair. But doing something about it by every means possible is

[74] GOVERNMENT

partly what Christianity is about. Democracy can be made more democratic, tyranny can be overthrown - this is proved from the record of man's struggle for freedom down the centuries. It is sometimes said that the Welfare State in Britain has made people lazy and indifferent. They are cared for by the State so thoroughly from cradle to grave that they no longer concern themselves about anything but their own private affairs. This is not a true picture of society. Politicians are paid for their work; they do a full-time job. But in Britain there are many thousands of people who give their services willingly to help run the country. Magistrates, councillors, governors of hospitals, schools, charities, public and private institutions; people caring for the sick, the aged, the young, the countryside, animals and wildlife - the list is unending. Churches raise large sums of money for charities and good causes and provide a reservoir of service to the community. Without the continuous help of these public spirited citizens life in Britain would be much poorer. It is, in fact, doubtful whether government and good order could survive without them. So apart from the international scene and its problems, there is much we can all do at home to help community life in addition to casting our vote at each general election. Mahatma Gandhi said, 'A society's civilisation should not be judged by its powers over the forces of nature, nor by the powers of its literature and art, but by the gentleness and kindness of its members towards all living things.' Passages from the Bible for further study

Romans 13,1-10 Matthew 10, 28 Mark 12,13-17

Paul's attitude to the Roman government Faith and conscience more important than life What did Christ mean?

For Discussion

1. What advantages has dictatorship over democracy? Would you ever like to see a dictatorship in your country? Think out your answer carefully and give your reasons.

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2. What do you think are the advantages and disadvantages of The Welfare State?' 3. Write to a: Amnesty International, Tower House, Southampton Street, London WC2 and b: The National Council for Civil Liberties, 186 King's Cross Road, London, WC1 and ask them for information about the work they are doing. Give a report to the class and consider any ways in which you can help. 4. 'Half of the people who have got the vote don't use it and most of the other half vote for the same old party every time. They don't know what they are voting for.' Do you agree with this criticism? Why does the speaker think people don't know what they are voting for? 5. Do you think there should be more political parties? What would be the advantages and disadvantages 6. Make a list of three or four urgent problems that you think the government should deal with. Against each one say what you think ought to be done. Your answers could lead to some good class discussion. 7. In this country do you think there is 'one law for the rich and another for the poor?' How do you justify your answer? 8. With help from your library write a short history of communism in Russia. What do you consider are the good and bad points about communism? 9. What does the word 'patriotism' mean? Is there any place for patriotism in our present-day world? 10. If you were a local councillor, what improvements would you suggest to the council for your neighbourhood? What can anyone do who is not a councillor to draw attention to these things? 11. If you are able, invite a local councillor or magistrate to come to school to talk about his work. 12. 'I detest your ideas but I am ready to die for your right to express them.' (Voltaire) Do you think anyone should be allowed to express any ideas anywhere? In what circumstances is this not permitted in Britain? Do you agree with these restrictions? 13. Get a copy of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (from your library or from the United Nations London Information Centre, 14 Stratford Place, London Wl); write out Articles 5, 9, 18, 19 and discuss them in class.

Sex and marriage A man shall leave his father and mother and be made one with his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. It follows that they are no longer two individuals: they are one flesh. What God has joined together man must not separate. Jesus You have learnt that they (the Israelites under Moses) were told, 'Do not commit adultery.' But what I tell you is this: If a man looks on a woman with a lustful eye, he has already committed adultery with her in his heart. Jesus As rain breaks through an ill-thatched roof, so lust breaks through an ill-trained mind. Buddhist saying Passion is the slave or mistress; followed she will bring but sorrow; lead her, and you tread the path of fortune. Hindu saying He who is carried away by passion will not get very far. Jain saying Three things the superior man guards against: lusts of the flesh in youth, combativeness in maturity, and ambition in old age. Confucius Love is from God; anyone who loves is a child of God. There is no room for fear in love; perfect love banishes fear. John It is better to marry than burn. Paul Honour your wife and your life will be enriched. Jewish Talmud 'ARE WE THE LAST MARRIED GENERATION?' Sunday paper / was married once. Now I live with a man and we are very happy together. Marriage is out of date, that is unless you want to have children, and the world is overpopulated as it is. Hollywood actress Being married and having children is a dull business. Let's have fun first. Teenage boy You 'II find that everybody has sex before marriage now-a-days. Young woman now married and expecting her first baby Though at least two statements in the above quotations are untrue, this is how many people are thinking and talking today. The rigid old rules about sex and marriage are under fire. Everybody discusses them and many people reject them.

[78] SEX AND M A R R I A G E

Sex before marriage? Of all questions this is the most discussed. Is it right or wrong, wise or foolish? In the first place, this is a decision you must make for yourself. It is far too important to be settled simply by what your friends do or by statements such as 'Everybody does it' or by T.V. plays and novels that assume that it is the natural thing to do. In real life, how many people do have sex before marriage? One psychologist said that of all the questions put to young people this was the most unreliably answered. However, a less personal question was put to a group of a hundred young people: Do you approve of having sex before marriage? Here are their answers: (1) (2) (3) (4)

Where no affection When you like the person When you are in love When you are engaged

For 19 41 69 84

Against 81 59 31 16

Though many people object to sex before marriage for religious or practical reasons others argue that: 1. Those who have it are likely to get along better when they are married because of their previous experience. 2. When two people are seriously in love and have prospects of marriage, to live together for a while will help them considerably to make a final decision. In Scotland and Denmark until recent times there was a custom called "Handfasting". Once a couple had pledged themselves to each other while holding hands they were allowed to live together for a year and a day. Then either their marriage would take place or they would be free. But if there was a child, it should be supported by the partner who objected to the marriage. In certain parts of the West Indies it was a fairly common practice for two people to live together and save up for a big marriage ceremony, possibly after some years when they could afford it. In both these examples living together was accepted as a serious business and the intention was to marry later. This, of course, is quite different from casual sex which few young people seem to approve of. Here are three reasons why people disapprove of it: 1. In the last thirty years with the Permissive Society has come a great increase in the spread of venereal disease. Many thousands of people - mainly between

SEX AND M A R R I A G E

[79]

18 and 24 — contract it each week and nearly half a million cases are dealt with in hospital each year - treble the number of thirty years ago. 2. Contraceptives are not 100% fool-proof and, in any case, it is estimated that less than a third of unmarried girls having intercourse use them. Between 55% and 75% do not use them in their first experience. In America, for instance, it is estimated that a million 15-19 year old girls become pregnant every year. In Britain, with a much smaller population, over 5000 school girls under 16 become pregnant every year ("Nationwide" 25.1X.80). 3. "Sex for the fun of it - it's just a bore," said a young man who had done a good deal of 'sleeping around'. He meant, of course, that the glamour and romance fade and the act becomes mechanical and loveless. 1: 2:

Why are teenagers' answers to the question as to whether they have 'had sex' unreliable? Read again the quotations at the head of this chapter. Quite a number are warnings. What are they warning us against? Why is this necessary?

From answering the second question you will have discovered that religions make a distinction between love and lust. It is an important one and both civilized and uncivilized communities base their rules for sex upon it. These rules are necessary for their very survival, because the sex urge is one of the most powerful of man's instincts and given free rein can wreck society. Even people who opt out of society and set up little communities of their own have to lay down strict rules about sex, otherwise life together becomes impossible. Married couples who accept no religious beliefs to guide them have to make their own rules and keep them if they are going to live happily together. They have to accept a good deal of self-control. 'Wife-swopping' and other permissive experiments in married life are not usually successful! A civilization's rules on sex and marriage are based on its religion. Our western civilization is based on Christianity, and Christian teaching is sometimes condemned by people who have never really bothered to understand it. For example, nowhere does Jesus suggest that sex and marriage are subjects which are 'hush-hush' or vaguely unclean. On the contrary, he talks quite openly about them and would expect us to do the same, but he lays down rules which require a high standard of self-control and consideration for other people. His teaching has mainly to do with marriage. It assumes that the sex act is an expression of deep and intimate love between two people. One person should never use another as a piece of apparatus to satisfy a selfish desire. Love,

[80] SEX AND M A R R I A G E

someone has said, is what is left when passion and desire are exhausted. And if there is nothing left, then in these circumstances the sex act is wrong. There was also a permissive section of society in Christ's day. One distinguished Jewish rabbi taught that a man could divorce his wife for the most trivial reasons: if she was a bad cook or if he found someone else he liked better. Jesus said this was wrong. He declared that the only grounds for divorce could be unfaithfulness. Whether he laid down this rule for all time we do not know, but we do know that he taught that married life should be governed absolutely by love, and that it could and should be permanent. 'What God has joined together, man must not separate.' If you are married in church this is the vow you will take: I call upon these persons here present to witness that I do take thee to be my lawful wedded wife (husband), to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part according to God's holy law: and thereto I give thee my troth (promise). Among practising Christians, therefore, marriage is a solemn contract, or sacrament, undertaken consciously in the presence of God by two people who should have learnt enough about each other to feel sure that their love will cope with all the problems of living together. It is generally a success because the people concerned are under oath to make it so. They will keep their vows and practise the love towards each other that Christ expects of them. 'Those that pray together, stay together.' The 'broken home' rarely occurs, therefore, in Christian marriage. Any alternative system should at least safeguard children from being unwanted or becoming the helpless victims of quarrelling parents. Passages from the Bible for further study

Deuteronomy 22, 13-20 Deuteronomy 24, 1 —5 Deuteronomy 5, 18 Proverbs 7, 6-23 Mark 10,2-12 Matt. 5, 27-32

Sex relations - the Old Law Divorce — the Old Law The Seventh Commandment The folly of yielding to the wiles of a prostitute Christian marriage Adultery and divorce

[82] SEX AND M A R R I A G E

John 8, 2-12 I Corinthians 13, 4-7 Ephesians 5, 22-33

Christ and the adulteress - the New Law True love Paul's advice to husbands and wives

For Discussion

1. Here is some research to do: 1: What is 'the age of consent?' 2: At what age can you get married a: without your parent's consent b: with your parent's consent? 3: In what circumstances can two people get divorced? 4: How does a legal separation differ from a divorce? Has it any advantages over divorce? 5: In what circumstances is abortion legal? 2. What is the difference between infatuation and love? 3. Falling in and out of love with different members of the opposite sex can make life very difficult. What difficulties and inconveniences does it create? If we are going to get the best out of life, how should we deal with them? 4. Boys want sex; girls want marriage. True or false? 5. Over a number of years statistics show that in America 40% of brides were between 15 and 18 and one out of two of them was divorced within five years; in Britain 21% were between 15 and 18 and one out of four were divorced within five years. Do you think that these marriage breakdowns matter? Is it true that girls are eager to get married however young they are while boys would much prefer to wait? 6. Is sexual intercourse before marriage wrong in all circumstances? Give reasons for your answer. 7. What qualities would you look for in your partner in order to make a successful marriage? Here is an assortment. Choose those that appeal to you or any others you can think of and write them down in order of importance, if you can. brains, good looks, good manners, comradeship, passionate love, considerateness, sense of humour, same interests, same religion, same social

SEX AND M A R R I A G E

8. 9.

10.

11. 12.

13.

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class, same age, good health, physical strength, tallness (shortness), good figure, wealth, sexual compatibility. The results should make an interesting class discussion. Should people who do not profess to be Christian be married in church? To become a wife or husband is possibly the most serious job a man or woman can undertake. As with other jobs, training is essential. What training have you had or do you hope to have for married life? Does your sex education in school really help? Are there any improvements you could seriously suggest? Discuss sex a: on T.V. and in films b: in books and magazines. Is there too much of it? Are there features of it you dislike? Do you believe in any kind of censorship? Write down what changes you would make to benefit the community if you were dictator. In some countries people can be married in hotels, private houses or some other place which they choose. Is this a good idea? 'You start hot and grow cold; we start cold and grow warm.' This was a comment on Western marriage by a girl who comes from a country where marriages are arranged by parents and falling in love plays little or no part in them. She obviously meant that the custom of her country made for more successful marriages. What do you think about this? As an alternative to question 7 write a composition — anonymous if desired - on 'My Ideal Wife (Husband),' Your teacher might collect the compositions, list the main points you make and discuss them in class.

Religion Men who have not led a religious life die like herons on a lake without fish. Buddhism Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God. Jesus The speculations of agnostics cannot lead to knowledge. Jainism The fear of the Lord makes a merry heart and gives joy and gladness and a long life. Judaism Religion is like rain: when it falls on good soil, it causes fresh grass to grow. Islam As He was in the beginning the Truth, So throughout the ages He has been the Truth, So even now He is Truth all-pervading, So for ever and ever He shall be the Truth eternal. Sikh meditation A pious man eats little, drinks little, sleeps little. Jainism Trust in God, but tie your camel. Islam He who hates nothing of all that lives, himself compassionate, free from arrogance and love of self, unchanged by good or ill; patient, contented, firm in faith, master of himself, true to his word, seeking me (Krishna), heart and soul; vowed to me - that man I love. Hinduism True religion is to love, as God has loved them, all things whether great or small. Hinduism 'I don't believe in all that lark,' said a girl in a recent television play talking about religion. Perhaps you don't believe in it, either. But many people do, and most people have fairly strong views one way or the other. This is because religion is one of the most powerful influences in human life and cannot be ignored. Here are the figures for the main world religions: Hindus Buddhists

500 million 300 million

Jews Christians

13% million 1200 million

Muslims

600 million

!?oists] Shinto )

93 million

R E L I G I O N [85] [85] RELIGION PrimitiveeJ\ .^ .,,.n Primitiv 100 millio belief s j beliefs '

These figures can be only a rough guide but they remind us that religion is worldwide. It has dominated all the known history of man back to the earliest records of pre-history. Most religions have suffered persecution many times but they survive all attempts to destroy them. In 1917 the Russian government began an intensive antiGod campaign. They set out to show that religion was untrue, unnecessary and absurd. But they gave up their main propoganda after some years because it was having the reverse effect from what they intended. Today Muslims, Jews and Christians still practise their religion in Russia, though they continually suffer for it. Where the communists have succeeded in bringing up children as atheists there is a curious development. In Russia you have the 'worship' of Lenin and in China for many years the 'worship' of Mao. In fact, communism, like the old religions, has its sacred writings, its commandments and its promised paradises. It seems that man is not quite himself unless he has a religion of some kind to follow. What do the main religions of the world teach? With certain exceptions they agree on four important points. They believe in 1: 2: 3: 4:

A supreme Being, or Beings, responsible for man's existence and concerned about his welfare. Some form of survival after death dependent on the way we have behaved in life. A spiritual world to be discovered by self-discipline in meditation and prayer. A high standard of behaviour towards our fellowmen.

Hinduism and Buddhism show some variation of the first belief. The highest form of Hinduism, instead of a personal god, teaches that there is a Universal Essence in all creation of which man's soul is a part. The oldest form of Buddhism, though not denying God's existence, teaches that man can find salvation (Nirvana) only within himself. But the vast majority of Hindus and Buddhists believe in supernatural beings. Sacred writings, or scriptures, are found in all religions except those of primitive people. They were composed many centuries ago. The most recent are the Adi Granth (Sikh) in the 16th century and the Koran (Muslim) in the 7th century.

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Does their age make them out of date? Not as seriously as we might think, because they are mainly concerned with human nature which does not change. The kind of people, for example, that Jesus met and talked about can be seen today with exactly the same virtues and failings. But it does mean that these scriptures have to be carefully studied, usually with the help of a teacher who can explain their background. This is certainly true of the Christian Bible about which a great deal of nonsense is talked by people ignorant of its contents and uninformed about its writers. 'Religion has caused a lot of trouble in the world!' It most certainly has, mainly because its teachings have been abused. You can, if you search carefully, find a text in the scriptures to justify almost any action you care to take. So the most brutal wars have been fought in the name of religion and it has been used to justify terrible cruelties and savage persecution. This is all the more sad because the founders of the great religions taught love, compassion and forgiveness, and many of their followers in every generation have tried faithfully to practise their teaching. The more you mow us down the more we grow. Tertullian Why has it proved useless to try to suppress religion? Different religions are but different paths that lead to God. Rama Krishna Do you agree or do you think Christianity teaches there is only one path? 'But things are different now; we don't need religion any more. We've outgrown it.' This is a point of view held by some people, chiefly modern humanists, who also add that religion requires faith and today we should live by reason alone. Man, not God, should now take the centre of the stage. Science and sociology can solve all man's problems for him. This was the view of a French humanist, Auguste Comte, and two of his friends actually founded a church in England for the worship of Man. Things are certainly different now. In the last fifty years man has made more scientific progress than during the whole of his previous history on earth. We are told, for instance, that ninety percent of all the scientists whoever lived, are alive today. In the west our standards of living are going up and up. More and more people live in comfort and even luxury compared with their grandparents. Every year there are more motor cars, television sets, labour saving devices in the home, better houses, longer holidays, shorter working hours, more foreign travel, more trips into space. Doctors have conquered diseases that killed people a generation

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ago. Soon the organs of our bodies, as they wear out, will be neatly replaced by excellent second-hand ones, and we shall no doubt discover how to go on living for centuries. The future is very bright. It should be, but is it? Think for a moment of those disturbing problems we push to the back of our minds: the H bomb, pollution, the Cold War, racial hatreds, famine, the ghastly poverty of over half the human race. As we have seen earlier in this book (World Poverty) it is, in fact, seriously argued, that our much talked of progress is really downhill, and that man is heading towards his own destruction. Remember the Creation story? 'And God looked upon everything that he had made and behold it was very good.' If the good life was God's intention for mankind, it seems that man has lost his way. What we certainly need, as a human family, is a sense of direction and a very much greater compassion for one another if we are going to survive. But this is exactly what a sincere faith in God offers to man, and before we talk about discarding religion, we should ask ourselves what real alternative there is to it. 'Unless we learn to live together as brothers,' said Martin Luther King, 'we shall all perish together as fools.' There is something else about our modern world that is very disturbing. The richer we grow, the more harassing life seems to become. Charles Clark, Chairman of the National Association for Mental Health, in "Simple Faith", stated that nearly forty million working days a year are lost through people being off work with mental illness and each year five million patients go to their doctor with symptoms of stress, anxiety and some kind of neurotic state. Four thousand people in England succeed in killing themselves each year and about forty thousand attempt suicide unsuccessfully. One in six women and one in nine men will at some time during their lives enter a psychiatric hospital for treatment, and it is estimated that more than half of all the hospital beds in the country are occupied by people with some form of mental disorder. And for every one in hospital there are many more people who 'keep themselves going' by such devices as tranquilisers, tobacco and alcohol. This is an age of drug taking, both on and off prescription. What is the answer to this problem of increasing tension in modern society? A man's greatest problem in life is himself. How can he overcome the worries, anxieties and frustrations that beset him? Here again religion claims to give the answer. Dr. Jung, one of the most famous psychologists of modern times, said, 'During the last thirty years, people from all civilized countries of the earth have consulted m e . . . . Among my patients over

Members of the former pop group The Beatles with the Maharishi

Some of a group of 1800 Buddhist schoolgirls who meditate for one hour each morning

R E L I G I O N [89]

35 years of age, there has not been one whose problem in the last resort has not been that of finding a religious outlook on life. Everyone of them fell ill because he had lost that which the living religions of every age have given their followers, and not one of them has been really healed who did not regain his religious outlook' But what of people under 35? The late John Lennon, one of the Beatles, wrote, The youth of today are looking for some answers the Established church can't give them, their parents can't give them, material things can't give them.' The Beatles, you will remember, reached well beyond the goal in life so many people desire — enormous success and unlimited wealth. Yet they turned to religion — the Hindu mystic, Maharishi Marash - in the hope of finding an answer to the vital questions of life. Of course, the religions of the world do answer very important questions. Look again at the four principal beliefs on p. 84. If you do, in fact, believe in God, in a future life and in the immense importance of everything you do in this one, life has very real meaning for you. And meditation and prayer do relieve the strain of daily life and give peace of mind. Many Buddhists, for example, will spend up to an hour in meditation before they begin their day's work. Do you think young people are happy to accept life as it is lived by older people? If not, what do they feel is lacking? What are they looking for? 'We don't know if it's true!' said a thirteen year old boy when asked why he and some of his friends did not believe in God. This is possibly the greatest difficulty of all for young people. They are brought up to doubt. Organised religion does not appeal to them, the Scriptures are rarely if ever read, and life goes on quite happily with good health, a good job, plenty of money, and a comfortable home where religion is never mentioned. Yet there are doubts and dissatisfactions. Is this all life consists of? Has it no meaning or purpose? Are we just a conglomeration of atoms? Is man's sole destiny 'a grinning skull at the end of the road?' Young people sample meditation, faith-healing, yoga, mysticism, witchcraft, hypnotism, spiritualism, astrology, telepathy. The list grows, simply because deep within us all there is a feeling that the riddle of life can be answered. Perhaps the teaching of Jesus, for example, could be the answer, if only we could believe it. If only there were proof? But how much proof is there of anything else? We live our daily life on probability, not proof. The desk upon which this manuscript has been written is a mystery, for the more we analyse matter the more blurred becomes our understanding of it. We exist on theories: evolution, the nature of matter, the origin of the universe. Society depends on political and economic theories. There are so

A section of the large congregation that worships each Sunday at All Souls, Langham Place. London

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many things about which we know so little, yet we manage to live by using what we cannot explain or understand. Lord Kelvin, the famous scientist, once asked a student in an oral examination, 'What is electricity?' The student hesitated, blushed and then blurted out, Tm sorry, sir. I did know, but I've forgotten.' 'What a pity,' replied Lord Kelvin. 'The whole world is waiting for you to remember.' We can't explain electricity but that doesn't prevent us from pressing the switch and using the light and power it produces. This kind of experiment is all that religious teachers ask of us. We know there are many questions about God and the future life that cannot be explained. All they say to us is this: accept the fact of God, act upon it, and the results will come. 'Ask and you will receive, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened.' Press the switch — and the light will come. "This, of course, is true. Within the last ten years, for example, a new experience in religion has sprung up in America — The Jesus Movement. Thousands of young people formed about 600 communes where they lived together. They were united in the one claim that Jesus had completely changed their lives. Great numbers of them been hopeless victims of drugs and alcohol and had been cured, without any withdrawal symptoms, by faith. More recently the Movement has changed in form, splitting up into many groups in different parts of the country. But their lifestyle remains basically the same. They live a simple disciplined life: their rule book, the Bible: their aim, Christian comradeship. Speaking of life outside the commune, one young man declared, "Out there I found everything I wanted except love. I felt that it did not exist. Here it is all around me". This kind of approach to religion may not appeal to us at all, and this particular movement may decline. But there are many other ways in which men find that faith in God has a real answer to life's problems. Passages from the Bible for further study

Matt. 25, 31 -46 John 3, 16 Romans 8, 28 Luke 17, 20, 21 Mark 8,35-38 James 1, 19-27

Religion means action Christianity in a sentence Not chance but design Here and now! The sacrifice of the greater for the less True religion

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•T7, and tcrof. The passage should be taken in its context. It is an argument directed to influence the conduct of the Philippians by the example of Jesus. Paul desires that the same disposition (TOVTO 9 and iW to have a moral significance, as they usually do in Paul's letters, rather than a metaphysical one. Also the distinction between apnayp6s and a'p*ray/ia should be preserved. The passage might then be paraphrased: " Let your disposition resemble that of Christ Jesus, who since he was morally like God did not consider that moral likeness to God consisted in seeking one's own advantage, but rather divested himself of what was due to him (i.e. as Messiah) etc." The result being that God exalted him to the highestplace. This is clearly not pre-existent but adoptionist Christology, yet it is obvious that the ambiguity of language lent itself very easily to a pre-existent interpretation.

PART IV THE CHURCH IN THE EMPIRE CHAPTER I MAIN CURRENTS OF INFLUENCE

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HE history of Christianity has suffered much from misleading metaphors. None perhaps has presented a falser view than the metaphor of the seed, which contains the whole potentiality of later development within itself. Far truer is the analogy of the stream, which in its descent into the plains receives tributaries from various other sources and carries down with it all kinds of elements collected in its course. Perhaps equally unfortunate is the attempt to characterize the earliest period of enthusiasm as the only genuine Christianity, and to seek to return to a period whose state of mind and outlook is so foreign to our present state of development as to be almost unintelligible save to the trained historical imagination. The truth is that the history of the religious movement called Christianity is the history of the interaction of many widely different currents of thought and social forces, the original impulse forming only one of these various currents. We have to consider now the effect of various fresh currents of thought, and of fresh social forces, upon the movement whose development we have traced so far. 119

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First of all, a summary of the main factors will make clear the problems involved; then we can proceed to deal with each in turn as fully as space will permit. We have to understand, first of all, the beginnings of what may be calle4 self-consciousness in the new movement. This appears in various directions. The Christian community embodied in its far-flung churches from one end of the Empire to the other by the close of the first century had begun to realize that it stood facing the Empire. As a heavenly state of society it challenged the whole earthly order embodied in the Empire. The book of Revelation expresses this consciousness very clearly and sharply, and expresses also the extraordinary sense of triumph, the sense that the scaffold sways the future. The friendly and politic attitude of Acts has disappeared and the Empire is the dragon, many-headed, the enemy of the man-child, the Lamb slain, who is to rule the nations with a rod of iron. The persecuted Church is the Lamb's bride. Over against Rome, the harlot, gleams the heavenly bride of the Lamb, the new Jerusalem, arrayed in the glory of God. Secondly, the new community had now consciously outgrown its Jewish origin and stood definitely challenging the Jewish race and its claims. Paul had claimed that Christ was the end of the law, but while he could say that in Christ there was neither Jew nor Greek, he never forgot that he was a Jew. But there is a peculiar irony in the attitude of the Christian Church in its new self-consciousness. It claims to be the true Israel, the true heir of the promises ; it takes over the Jewish Scriptures and places its own newer documents alongside of them as the Divine revelation of the Old and New Covenants together committed by

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God to the guardianship and interpretation of the Church. The Jews are dismissed as apostates, even as impostors who claim what does not belong to them. The Old Testament is ransacked to furnish prophecies of the details of the life and death of Jesus. The Old Testament is the shadow of which the new order is the reality. Thirdly, this dawning self-consciousness expresses itself in competition with the philosophy of the GraecoRoman world. The need is felt of some explicit statement of the cosmic significance of Christ and the Church. We find the beginnings of that Christian philosophy which is worked out so fully by Clement of Alexandria and Origen, although its ultimate influence on the masses and on the formulation of Church doctrine was not so important. But its most important effect, apart from the attraction which it exercised upon educated converts to Christianity, lay in its shaping of the doctrine of the personality of Christ and his significance in the universe. Through the impact of philosophy upon Christianity we have the identification of Jesus with the Stoic Logos, the Divine reason immanent in the universe, explaining both its origin and its order. Fourthly, the external pressure upon the Church of the many competing forms of Oriental cults, half mystic philosophies, half sacramental mystery cults, together commonly grouped under the convenient term Gnosticism, produced a number of important results : (i) The Church presented itself increasingly to the masses as an institution which possessed and could impart salvation through its sacred mysteries. The old eschatological conception

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of the powers of the Spirit as an earnest of the New Age became concentrated in the channels of the Sacraments. Through baptism and the Lord's Supper the participant received the Divine nature and immortality. This idea of apotheosis, which satisfied one of the deepest demands of the religious need of the age, becomes more and more prominent in the writings of the early Fathers. (ii) The officials of the Church assumed a new character, partly due to its Jewish antecedents, but far more due to the influence of the mystery cults. They became priests, celebrants of the sacred mysteries, a class possessing peculiar powers and privileges. The clergy began to stand out against the laity as a priestly caste. (iii) The growth of a mass of apocryphal literature and the efflorescence of all kinds of speculation in which the figure of Jesus was involved made it necessary for the Church to lay down the limits of the canon, to select those documents which it was prepared to accept as authoritative. It was, moreover, obliged to formulate in brief the outline of what was to be believed, the regula fidei, the beginnings of authoritative creed. Finally, it was obliged to assert for itself the possession, in the hands of the priestly caste, of the true tradition in accordance with which the accepted Scriptures must be interpreted. But through these various changes, producing so great a transformation of the primitive group in

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Jerusalem, one thing remains fixed, Christ is central It is true that the figure of Jesus also has suffered a great transformation, but the Church holds fast in theory and in experience to the central fact that a historical figure is the spring and source of all. This is the key-note of all the literature of the first three centuries. White we can see in Cyprian, Lactantius, and other Latin fathers the tendency to make the Church central—a tendency which is completely realized in the Mediaeval Church (save for the continual stream of mystical devotion attached to the person of Christ)—yet at first, in this earlier period, Christ is first and the Church second. While this is true, it is also true that the Christ who is the central object of devotion and of theological speculation is not the Jesus of history. The inner necessity of harmonizing the historical figure with the results of the transformation caused by the factors we have discussed led to rationalizing speculations which issued finally in the compromise of the Tome of Leo and the Chalcedonian definition in the fifth century, a position from which we are only now beginning to break loose.

CHAPTER II JESUS AND GOD

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NE of the important results of the Jewish origin of the Christian movement was that when that movement met the flux of religious thought in the society of the time it brought with it and held fast to a clearly defined personal idea of God. Nothing of the work of the Hebrew prophets was lost. Almost every form of belief or non-belief in God that has ever influenced men's minds and actions was current in the first century of the Christian era. Through it all the Church held fast to the belief in a personal God with definite personal attributes, with a definite plan for the course of the world and for the individual. It was the necessity of explaining the relation of the central figure of Jesus to this God that gave its direction to the main stream of Christian thinking for the first five centuries of its history. The original Jewish-Christian position was simple. Jesus was the man who had been selected by God as the Messiah. The resurrection was a supernatural act which had ratified and made effectual the position of Jesus. He was in Heaven waiting to return and set up the Kingdom of Jewish expectation. As we have seen, this position had little or no meaning to the minds of Gentile hearers of the new message. The message underwent a transformation into the terms of the mystery-cults with which they were familiar, and which expressed their religious needs. The "4

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primitive Messiah became the divine Lord and Saviour. Here, in connexion with the new self-consciousness of which we have spoken, arose the need of explaining the relation of this divine Lord to God. Two lines of explanation, both connected with contemporary tendencies of thought, and both reflected in the early Christian literature, are apparent. One of them, as we shall see, ultimately ousted the other. The first, which is related in some ways to the Jewish form of thought, and in others to the Greek idea of heroes or demi-gods, was the conception of apotheosis, of a man who through merit became God* We can trace this line of thought from the early preaching in Acts, where Jesus is declared to have been made Lord and Messiah by God, through Paul, who speaks of Jesus as born of the seed of David but marked out (Jpff&m) Son of God by resurrection through endowment with the Spirit of God, to its most striking statement in the Shepherd of Hennas, a document which comes from the Roman Church about the first quarter of the second century. Those who wish can consult the text of Hennas in Lightfoot's " Apostolic Fathers/' or in Professor Lake's excellent edition of the Apostolic Fathers in Loeb's Classical Library. Hernias represents God the Father taking counsel with the Spirit, who is the Son, as to what reward Jesus the Servant who has perfectly fulfilled his earthly service is deserving of. They decide to elevate him to divine Sonship. While details are uncertain, the general line of thought is unmistakable. It represents what has been called the Adoptionist explanation of the relation of Jesus to God. On the one hand, this explanation guards Jewish monotheism to some extent, and on the other favours

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the idea of apotheosis, the possibility of man becoming God, towards which men's desires were so strongly turning at this time. The second line of explanation has also relations to elements in both Jewish and Greek thought. It is the opposite conception of God becoming man, involving the idea of the pre-existence of Jesus. Now this conception was related on the one hand to the Jewish idea of the pre-existence of the Messiah, which we have already mentioned, and on the other lends itself readily both to the Stoic conception of the Logos Spermatikos and to Gnostic Oriental conceptions of emanations or ^Eons, The Fourth Gospel represents the earliest form of this explanation. Jesus is the pre-existent Word, the Logos who was with God in the beginning. The Word became flesh. Jesus comes from God and goes to God. The human life of Jesus, while perfectly real, is only an episode in the eternal existence of the Son with the Father. This line of explanation, which, owing to the traditional connexion of the Fourth Gospel with Ephesus, we may call the Ephesian in contrast with the Roman Adoptionist explanation, was the one which ultimately gained universal acceptance, though not without much protest, in the Church.

CHAPTER III

THE FOURTH GOSPEL AND ITS INFLUENCE

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HERE can be little doubt that the acceptance of the Fourth Gospel by the Church determined the issue of the central problem. There were many reasons why the Adoptionist answer to the question what is meant by the term " Son of God " should have met with wide acceptance. It softened the break with polytheism, it allied itself naturally with the mystery-cults, it was less abstract and philosophical than the pre-existent view, and the subsequent history of Arianism and the tendencies of the Antiochene School of theologians shows how hard it was to eradicate this view. Indeed, it has never been wholly banished, but has lingered unwelcome and suspect on the confines of orthodoxy. It is probably stronger to-day in the Church than it has ever been since the days of the Arian Emperors. Neither is there any valid reason for denying that the religious experience connected with this belief is less satisfying and vital than the experience arising from the pre-existent belief. But the Fourth Gospel was a work of supreme genius, and when once, in the face of much opposition, it was accepted by the Church, the earlier lives of Jesus, together with Paul's Christology, were interpreted in the sense of the Fourth Gospel. It became the touchstone of orthodoxy and the poin 127

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of departure for the fresh development of the doctrine of the relation of Jesus to God. There are three main elements in the Fourth Gospel to which it owed its pre-eminence over the earlier tendencies in the Church. First, it provided the formula of the Logos, a conception which may have arisen from an earlier Christian identification of Jesus with the Wisdom of God, as Professor Rendel Harris has proved with such abundance of learning in his " Prologue to St. John's Gospel," but which certainly lent itself to Stoic ideas of the immanent Reason and to later Neo-Platonic conceptions of the Logos Prophorikos, the outgoing energy of the Divine Reason personified and active in creation, serving as the necessary link between God and the world. Secondly, though not perhaps logically consistent with the Logos idea, the Fourth Gospel offers a thoroughly sacramental conception of the relation between Jesus and the believer. Life is obtained through eating the flesh of the Son of man and drinking his blood. He is the bread of God coming down from Heaven. Here satisfaction was offered to the religious need that sought expression in the mystery-cults. Christianity was conceived of as a mystery-cult of the profoundest and most spiritual kind. Thirdly, the Fourth Gospel removed the stumblingblock of Apocalyptic. There were only two ways of dealing with Apocalyptic. The Book of Revelation shows one way—a way which has always been attractive to many heroic souls. It is the way of a reaffirmation. As each crisis of history passes and it appears that the End is not yet, no final victory is won, the prophetic soul projects the vision still further into the

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future, and paints it in brighter colours in reaction from each bitter disappointment. But the author of the Fourth Gospel showed the way of escape from the crude determinism and the timeschemes of current apocalyptic thought into the timeless realm of the Spirit. For the vision of a world-shaking judgment and the final triumph of the martyred saints with the Lamb slain he substituted the perpetual triumph of love stronger than death, and of the faith that overcomes the world. We do not know how the Fourth Gospel reached Rome from Ephesus. It is an attractive suggestion and in accordance with historical probability that Justin Martyr brought the Ephesian Christology to Rome. It was new and had obvious dangers. It lent itself to the Docetic tendencies so widely current at the time, in spite of its insistence on the reality of the humanity of Jesus, and hence it met with much opposition at Rome. But by the time of Irenaeus its place in the Canon was so assured that for Irenaeus the fourfold Gospel scheme is part of the Divine plan. Not only so, but its Christology determined the history of the Church's doctrine of Christ, and the Adoptionist explanation became a heresy. Nevertheless, one element in Adoptionism was too strong to be rejected —the thought that through participation in the Christian mysteries the initiate became a " Son of God." Even as late as the fourth century Athanasius, the great protagonist of the pre-existent Christology, in

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sense with the pre-existent explanation and gradually became weakened, until in mediaeval and later popular Christian thought it was reduced to the idea that Christians became angels after death. As the product, then, of a profound religious experience and of a great spiritual genius the Fourth Gospel provided at the same time a ground for mystical experience independent of historical limitations, freedom from apocalyptic schemes, and a starting-point for a Christian metaphysic and philosophy of history.

CHAPTER IV THE EPISCOPATE AND ITS WORK

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UT neither the life of Jesus, the work of Paul, nor the appearance of the Fourth Gospel and its acceptance by the Church at the beginning of the first century will explain the rise and progress of the great unified institution that dominates the course of history from Constantine to Innocent III. The real cause of the survival of the Christian movement, its triumph over many kindred movements, and its consolidation into a great institution lay elsewhere. It is impossible to describe here in detail the evolution of the monarchical episcopate, and many of its early details are still matters of dispute. But the outstanding fact is that the loose union of scattered churches with a charismatic ministry gradually gives way to a quasi-military organization on a territorial basis following the Roman provincial and parochial organization. There were two main external factors that brought about this decisive change in the organization of the Church. The first was the external pressure of the various forms of sects and cults, all containing elements of Christian tradition mingled with Oriental speculation and varied forms of ritual practices borrowed from the mystery-cults. All were agreed that the original impulse of the Christian movement sprang from the words and life of the historical Jesus, but the flood of allegorical interpretation which had already

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invaded Jewish religion threatened to submerge all historical landmarks and to deprive nascent Christianity of any fixed meaning. The need of fixing the content of Christianity led to the establishment of a body of permanent officials whose office it was so determine and safeguard the deposit of truth. In every locality the bishop became the guardian of the faith. It was the work of the bishops to determine three fundamental things: (i) The limits of the canon of Scripture. (ii) The nature and contents of the regula fidei— the rule of faith, what was to be believed. (iii) The contents of the apostolic tradition, transmitted from the apostles to the bishops, in accordance with which the Scriptures and the rule of faith must be interpreted. All the various so-called Gnostic sects and schools claimed the right to accept or reject any of the rapidly multiplying sacred books at their pleasure. Marcion had his own canon. The various Gnostic schools had their own collections of apocryphal Gospels and Acts, their own methods of allegorical interpretation, their own secret tradition of gnosis. In the face of this universal flux, which threatened to reduce the Christian movement to one among a thousand little esoteric schools of religious belief and practice, the evolution of the episcopal order during the first two centuries resulted in the fixing of canon, creed, and tradition with sufficient definiteness to become the basis of the Catholic conception of Vincent of Lerinum and Augustine, the quod semper, quod ubique, quod db omnibus. The second main factor was the situation that arose

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after the outbreak of persecution under Decius in the middle of the third century. The thoroughness and unexpectedness of the attack, coming after a long period of toleration, produced an unusually large number of the " lapsi," i.e. those who bowed to the storm and conformed nominally to paganism. As soon as the persecution ceased the question of readmission arose. The centre of the struggle was at Carthage, where Cyprian had to contend, on the one hand, against the promiscuous use of the privilege of " confessors " to grant restoration to the lapsed, and on the other against the rigorists, who wished to exclude for ever from the Church all who had fallen. The dispute shifted to Rome, where the puritan party elected Novatian as bishop in opposition to the election of Cornelius by the party which stood for charity to the lapsed. This raised the vital question, for the administrative unity of the Church, whether it was possible to have two bishops in the one locality. The letters of Cyprian vividly represent the keenness of the controversy. Cyprian's views prevailed, and it was henceforth accepted that there could only be one bishop in a local church even as there was only one God. But the struggle lasted for many years. Nevertheless, the principle was established that the bishop represented the unity of the Church for discipline as well as for doctrine. The result of this development was an important and far-reaching change in the conception of the bishop's character and functions. In the letters of Ignatius, at the beginning of the second century, we find repeatedly the statement that the bishop in the community represents God the Father, or Christ, while the presbyters represent the apostles.

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But the result of the struggle against Gnosticism and of the Novatianist schism was that the bishop came to be regarded as occupying the Apostles' seat and power. Hence gradually it was accepted that the bishop was the sole possessor of the power of binding and loosing entrusted to the Apostles and the channel of the various gifts of the Spirit. Henceforward, while the stream of inner experience flowed on, the history of the Church is the history of the struggle between the great Sees, of Synods and Councils, of belief and practice which are not the spontaneous expression of inward experience but the result of compromise and adjustment in the clash of ecclesiastical politics. The Christian Church had ceased to be a movement and had become an institution.

CHAPTER V THE COMPLETION OF THE CHRISTOLOGY

W

E have already seen that the Church inherited from its Jewish origin the central doctrine of one personal God, with various personal attributes. The acceptance of the pre-existent explanation of the personality of Jesus created a problem which occupied the theologians of the Church for five centuries. Two main stages of this problem appear. The first was concerned with the difficulty of reconciling the oneness of God with the admission that Jesus was God. The solution, if such it can be called, to the first stage of the problem was the evolution of the idea of the Trinity to which Roman law and Greek metaphysics contributed. The mystery of the three Persons and one Substance was the formula accepted to express the nature of God. The Catholic formula steered the middle course between the Scylla of tritheism and the Charybdis of an economic Trinity, a threeness which was not really threeness but the dynamic manifestation of one energy in three forms. The only refuge for the faithful lay in the acceptance of a mystery which transcended human reason, ignoring the fact that human reason had created the mystery. The second stage of the problem, far more acute, was concerned with the difficulty of reconciling the fact that Jesus was an historical person with the theory of his pre-existence. How could he be both God and man 135

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at the same time ? How could he be born in time and yet eternally pre-existent ? The solution, like the previous one, had to avoid the danger of denying his real humanity on the one hand, and on the other of reducing his divinity to that of an inferior deity, as Arianism did, or of denying any substantial union of divinity and humanity in his person. The answer was an illogical compromise, the so-called Two-natures hypothesis stated finally by the Roman Church in the Tome of Leo in the fifth century. Like the Trinity, the formula of " God and Man one Christ " could only be accepted as a mystery which transcended human comprehension and must be accepted by faith for salvation. So Jesus disappeared into the keeping of the theologians. The schism between the East and West, the conquest of the West by barbarism, the accession of the Roman Church to the prestige of the Roman Empire, the interposition of the Moslem barrier between the East and West, are the main factors in the subsequent development. The Church presents the appearance of Paul's ship aground at Melita, " the fore-part stuck fast, the hinder-part was broken by the violence of the waves." In the West the monarchical episcopate developed into the papacy and Roman supremacy, achieved the spiritual conquest of the barbarians, preserved alive the tradition of culture, and built up a Catholicism of doctrine and practice in which countless souls found peace and fulfilment of their spirit's quest. It was a great and splendid achievement. In the East, where Rome's claim to spiritual supremacy had never been accepted and where the subtler mind of the Greek, in Alexandria or Antipch, had

The Completion of the Christology 137 continued to speculate on the central problems of Christianity, no such catholic unity was achieved. The Arab conquest destroyed the Eastern empire, as the Goths did the Western; but the Arabs were not conquered by the religion of the conquered, as were the Goths. Instead, the Church was broken up into various competing sects and churches, with varying forms of theological belief, many of which still survive. The vision of the Nazarene has had a strange issue. His saying, " I came not to bring peace but a sword," has received an unexpected fulfilment.

EPILOGUE

A"

RECENT writer on Sociology has thus summed up the situation whose development we have attempted to trace:

The particular combination of the tradition of a great teacher with elements drawn from ancient mythology and contemporary East Mediterranean religion and philosophy, which was formulated at Nicaea in 325 A.D., may now prove to be no more firmly rooted than was the Graeco-Roman state religion—in spite of its temples and priesthoods and its intimate connection with men's habits of thought and speech and feeling and education—when Lucian attacked it in the second century A.D. It is true there is evidence which persuades many observers that Christian orthodoxy will maintain or even increase its authority by shedding its mythology and absorbing non-Christian ideas. But a time comes when a religion loses its power of retaining its vitality in a new form; there were indications of a corresponding transformation of the state religion in the times of Marcus Aurelius and of Porphyry, but the transformed faith soon died out. I myself think it more probable that the children or grandchildren of most of those who reject the main dogmas of Christian orthodoxy will cease to call themselves Christians; and that Christian tradition will come to be represented in the Western nations by a minority of born mystics and their followers. Such is the impression produced upon a scientific observer by the development of the Christian movement seen in its historical perspective. His forecast is, of course, merely an individual speculation, and may be entirely disproved by the future course of events, 139

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but the whole passage serves to emphasize the present situation and its most striking features. It presents the sharp contrast between two apparently incompatible views of the universe. On the one hand Christianity appears as a Divine intervention in the course of human affairs. It is the irruption of the supernatural into the world of men, the supreme event of history, God become man; and His presence in His world, to use Leo's phrase, " coruscates with miracle." Hence Christianity as a religion is the last word, the absolute religion. It supplies a satisfying philosophy of the universe, a final rule of conduct, an emotional experience which answers the deepest demands of life, and contains the assurance of a blessed immortality. On the other hand, in the light of the view of the universe which science has slowly built up during the last hundred years the Christian movement represents one stage in the intellectual and emotional development of the West. Its ideas and practices and the form of its institutions are determined partly by its antecedents and partly by its environment. There is no ground for supposing that it is a final stage of human development. Its philosophy of history and the universe which explains both as the result of a supernatural personal agency does not satisfy modern intellectual needs. While its code of ethics is high it is not necessarily the final form of human conduct. The emotional satisfaction which it yields is not necessarily attached to any particular form of religious belief, as the history of religious experience abundantly proves. Hence we have a point of view, the result of historical investigation, combined with the acceptance of the

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broad scientific view of the universe which recognizes the enormous value of Christianity in history, but does not acknowledge its finality nor its supernatural authority. Canon Scott Holland, shortly before his death, facing this situation, said: " The platitudes on which we have confidently tested break from under us " ; and again: " Thought and will must come out into the open and make their venture." Three attitudes are possible in the face of the situation thus outlined. It is possible to fall back upon authority—the authority of the Bible or the Church. For many this is the way of safety. There is the attitude of Gallio-like indifference. Many will say, indeed are saying, that religion is wholly discredited, and cease to take any interest in its implications for life and conduct. This attitude also is widespread, as it was in the time of the decay of the State religion in the first two centuries of Christianity. There is the third attitude of which Canon Scott Holland speaks. Thought and will may come out into the open and make their venture. This is the hardest way. It involves the scientific attitude of humility before the facts of the universe, not distorting or transfiguring them by desire. It involves the will to recognize and conserve values, to face the fact of the perpetual movement of that mysterious force which we call life. What the result of that venture of thought and will may be we cannot foresee, any more than Jesus or Paul could forecast the issue of their heroic ventures, their conflict with the binding forces of agelong tradition. But history proves this at least; that the venture

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belongs to the creative force of life, and always yields new forms of experience, makes a new dwelling in which the spirit of man may abide for a time to contemplate the changing yet eternal forms of beauty and truth, before he is forced on to fresh adventure and discovery. This faith is the victory that overcomes the world.

APPENDICES APPENDIX I PASSAGES FROM JEWISH APOCALYPTIC LITERATURE ILLUSTRATING BELIEFS CONCERNING THE RESURRECTION (a) i Enoch xxii. 13. Such (a division) has been made for the spirits of men who were not righteous but sinners, who were complete in transgression, and of the transgressors they shall be companions : but their spirits shall not be slain in the Day of Judgment nor shall they be raised from thence, j Enoch li. I. And in those days shall the earth also give back that which has been entrusted to it, and Sheol also shall give back that which it has received, and hell shall give back that which it owes. I Enoch Ixi. 5. And these measures shall reveal all the secrets of the depths of the earth, and those who have been destroyed by the desert, and those who have been destroyed by the beasts, and those who have been destroyed by the fish of the sea, that they may return and stay themselves on the day of the Elect One. j Enoch xci. 10. And the righteous shall arise from their sleep, and wisdom shall arise and be given unto them. (b) Testimony of Judah xxv. I, 4. And after these things shall Abraham and Isaac and Jacob arise unto life . . . and they who have died in grief shall arise in joy, and they who were poor for the Lord's sake shall be made rich, and they who are put to death for the Lord's sake shall awake to life.

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Testimony of Benjamin x. 6, 7. Then shall ye see Enoch, Noah and Shem, and Abraham and Isaac and Jacob rising on the right hand in gladness. Then shall we also rise, each over our own tribe, and we shall worship the Heavenly King. Then shall we all be changed, some into glory and some into shame (cf. Dan. xii. i, 2). (c) 2 Baruch, xxx. it 2. And it shall come to pass after these things, when the time of the advent of the Messiah is fulfilled, that He shall return in glory. Then all who have fallen asleep in hope of Him shall rise again. 2 Baruch, cc. xlix-li. This is the fullest passage in the Apocalyptic literature and should be consulted by those interested. It presents remarkable parallels to Paul's teaching in i Cor. xv. It is too long to be given here in full. In c. xlix. Baruch asks God concerning the resurrection: "In what shape will those live who live in Thy day ? Or how will the splendour of those who are after that time continue ? " He receives the answer from God: " The earth shall then assuredly restore the dead, it shall make no changes in their form, but as it has received so it shall restore them, and as I delivered them unto it, so also shall it raise them. For then it will be necessary to show to the living that the dead have come to life again, and that those who had departed have returned." The passage goes on to describe the change of the righteous to glory and of the wicked to shame. These passages are taken from the Oxford edition of the Old Testament Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha edited by Dr. Charles. The student should refer to the note on i Enoch li. i. For fuller discussion of the growth of Jewish ideas on Resurrection see Charles " Eschatology, Hebrew, Jewish and Christian/'

APPENDIX II RABBINICAL ARGUMENTS FOR THE RESURRECTION In the main the Rabbinical arguments for the Resurrection fall under three heads: (i) Inferences from Particular Passages of Scripture. These inferences are often based on a forced or artificial connection of words. For example, in Deut xxxi. 16, by separating Dp\ from !TfPT DIT? and connecting it with the previous words, they produced the translation: " Thou shalt sleep with thy fathers and shalt arise," and consequently used the passage as a proof of the resurrection. Other examples are Cant. vii. 10, where " the lips of them that are asleep " is interpreted as referring to the dead and the inference of resurrection drawn therefrom. Deut. iv. 4 and xi. 9 were similarly used. For a full list of passages so used the student may refer to the valuable note in Strack and Billerbeck's " Commentar Zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrash on Matt. xxii. 32," pp. 893-897. (ii) Inferences from Previous Cases of Resurrection.— The stories of Elijah and Elisha are of course accepted as historical and used as the basis for further proof of the Resurrection in the Age to come. The story of Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones is also taken literally as a case of Resurrection on a large scale ! (iii) The General Argument from Analogy.—This is generally found in Haggadic form. For instance the Haggada in Genesis Rabbah 14 is repeated elsewhere in modified forms. The translation of it will illustrate the general character of this line of proof: " There was a man in Zepphoris whose son died. A heretic went in to sit with him. Rabbi Jose ben Halaphta went up to greet him. 10 145

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The heretic saw him sitting and laughing. He said to him, ' Why do you laugh ? ' He replied,' We trust in the Lord of Heaven that you will see his face in the world to come.1 He said,' Has not this man trouble enough that you should come and mock him ? Can potsherds cleave together again ? Is it not written, " As vessels of a potter thou shalt dash them in pieces " ? ' Rabbi Jose replied, ' A vessel of clay is made with water and hardened with fire, but a vessel of glass is made with fire and hardened with fire. If the former is broken can it be mended ? But if the latter is broken can it not be mended ? ' The heretic replied, ' Yes, forasmuch as it was made by the breath (of the glass-blower)/ Rabbi Jose said to him, ' Let thine ears hear what thy mouth has uttered! If this vessel which was made by the breath of mortal man can be repaired, how much more that which was made by the breath of the Holy One/ "

APPENDIX III THE THIRD DAY The saying in Hos. vi. 2, " on the third day he will raise us up and we shall live before him/' was the source of a long tradition of Jewish exegesis connected with the Resurrection. In P.R.E1. 51 there is a remarkable passage based upon this ancient exegetical tradition: " All the inhabitants of the earth shall taste of death for two days, when there will be no soul of man or beast upon the earth, as it is said,' And they that dwelt therein shall die in like manner/ On the third day He will renew them all and revive the dead and He will establish them before Him, as it is said,' On the Third day he will raise us up, and we shall live before Him/ " Tn Genesis Rabbah 91, occurs the passage: " God never leaves the righteous longer than three days in death, as we learn from Joseph (Gen. xlii. 17), from Jonah, from Mordecai, and from David. Moreover, it says in Hos. vi. 2: * He will raise us up/ " A similar use of Hos. vi. 2 occurs in Sanh. 97. It is well known that the Rabbinical tradition goes back to a period before the time of Christ, and that interpretations of the Scripture which may be quoted from a Rabbi of the third century A.D. may go back to a much earlier period. Hence it is possible that the saying of Jesus was based on this traditional interpretation of Hos. vi. 2, and the presence of the third day belief in the early tradition of the Resurrection is due to the deske to furnish an exact fulfilment of the saying*

it

147

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY Jackson (Dr. J. Foakes) and Lake (Prof. Kirsopp): " Beginnings of Christianity " (Vols. I and II). Lake (Prof. Kirsopp): " The Historical Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ" ; " Landmarks in the History of Early Christianity"; "The Earlier Epistles of St. Paul: their Motive and Origin." Harnack (Dr. C. G. Adolf): " The Mission and Expansion of Christianity " (2 vols. Eng. trans.); " The Acts of the Apostles." Loisy: "Acts." Schweitzer (Dr. A.): " Paul and his Interpreters." A Critical History. Trans, by W. Montgomery, B.A., B.D. Meyer (Prof. Eduard): " Ursprung und Anfange des Christentums." Weiss (Prof. Johannes): " Paul and Jesus." Charles (R. H.): " Eschatology, Hebrew, Jewish, and Christian " ; " The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament." Turner (C. H.): " Studies in Early Church History/' Streeter (Canon Burnett H.): " The Four Gospels : their Origin, Sources, and Collection into the Canon." Cadman (W. H.): "The Last Journey of Christ to Jerusalem." Bindley (T. H., D.D.): " The (Ecumenical Documents of the Faith." 149

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Loeb Classical Library: " The Apostolic Fathers." Trans* by Prof. Kirsopp Lake (2 vols.). Gardner (Prof. P.): " The Religious Experience of St. Paul." Cumont (Franz): " The Oriental Religions in Roman Paganism." Reitzenstein (Richard): " Poimandres." Scott (Prof. E. F.): " The Kingdom and the Messiah.0

INDEX Acts xii, 8, 21, ±3!, 34, 73!, 79f., 83 * •. 105 Adoptionism, 118, 125 f., 127!., 129 Alexandria, 84, 136 Antigonus of Socho, 10 Antioch, 85-6, 92 f., 99 Apocalyptic Jewish, u, 16, 22, 23-4. 108, 112, 114, 128, 143 *• Apocryphal literature, 122, 132 Apollos, i Apostles, 3. 3L 33 *•. 4L 45. 77. 85 *.. 133 Apostolic Council, 92 Apotheosis, 122, 125 f. Arianism, 127, 136 Ascension, 42, 74 Athanasius, 129 Baptism, 42, 102, 107, 122 Barnabas, 25, 99 Bishops, 85,105,117,1311,136 Cadman, 17! Canon of Scripture, 122,129,132 Chalcedon, 123 Charismatic ministry, 117 Charles, Canon R. H., xi, 144 Clement of Alexandria, 121 Cornelius, the proselyte, 86 Cornelius, bishop of Rome, 133 Cumont, xi, 106 Cyprian, 123, 133 Damascus, 83, 92 Deacons, 84-5 Decius, 133 Deissmann, xi Docetism, 42, 129 Elijah, 2, 5, ii, 12 Emperor worship, 106, 109 Ephesus, 84, 126, 129

Essenes, 82 Ethics, Jewish, xxx Fig-tree, story of, 52-3 Fourth Gospel, i, 6, 8, 18, 34 f., 59, 84, 126, 127 f., 129 f. Francis of Assisi, 22 Galatians, 83, 89 f. Galilee, 3, 5, 29 f., 40 f., 45, 74 f. Gardner, Prof. P., 106 Glossolalia, 75-6 Gnosticism, 126, 132 Haggada, 145 f. Harnack, xii, 77, 97 Harris, Dr. Rendel, 24, 101, 128 Hebrews, 84, 97, 102 Hellenism, n Hellenists, 84 f., 94, 97, 102 Hermas, 125 Herod, 3, 4, 17 Hogg, Prof., 8, 47 f. Holland, Canon Scott, 141 Ignatius, 117, 133! Irenaeus, 129 Jackson, Prof. Foakes, xii, 25, 74 James, the Lord's brother, 13, 81, 88, 93 Jerusalem, 4-5, 18, 23, 29, 32, 40 f., 45-6, 73 f., 92 f., 97. 118 Joan of Arc, 9, 22 ohn the Baptist, I, 3, 5, 84 oseph of Arimathea, 29, 30, 34 udaizers, 89 f., 94 Justin Martyr, 106, 129 Lactantius, 123 Lake, Prof. Kirsopp, xii, 25, 74, T^r*!, ", 513 Lapsi *^3j

151

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Lazarus, raising of, 58 f. Leo, Tome of, 123, 136, 140 Lightfoot, 125 Logos, 121, 126, 128 f. Loisy, xii. Lucian, 139 Mark, original ending of, 38-9 Messiah, 2, 12, 44, 80, 82, 101, 108-9, 112 f., 124!, 144 Messianic Kingdom, 10-12, 23-4 Meyer, Eduard, xii Miracle, 49 f. Mithra, 109 Mystery cults, xii, 106 f., 108 f., 121, 124, 128, 131 Neoplatonism, 128 New Age, the, i, 2,3,4,102,109, 114, 122 Nicaea, 82, 139 Novatian, 133 f. Olympians, the, 106 Organization, Church, 115!, 122, 131 f. Origen, 43, 121 Osiris, 109 Parousia, 18, 22, 101, in, 114 Paul, 10, 12, 201, 34, 75-6, 83 f., 86, 89 f., 96 f., 99 f. Pentecost, xiii, 74 f. Peter, 3, 4, 28, 29, 32-3, 36, 39, 77 *•. 88, 93 Peter, Apocryphal Gospel of, 37 Pharisees, 10, 26, 113 Philosophy, Greek, 106, 121, 135 Pre-existence, 113, 118, 126, 127 f., 1291, 135 f. Prophecy, 82, 101, 109, 121 Providence, 49, 53 f.

Rabbinical literature, 14, 145 f. Reitzenstein, xi Resurrection: beliefs, 8, 9, 10, 14, 20 f. evidence for, 28 f. of Jesus, 7, 8, 10, 15 f., 23 1, 28 f. Revelation, the book of, 105, 120, 128 Rome, 84, 94, 120, 129, 136 Sacraments, 107, 109, 122, 128 Sadducees, 13 Sanday, xi Schweitzer, 17 Science, 57, 61, 141 Scott, Prof. E. F., 96 Septuagint, 24 Serapis, 109 Son of Man, 2, 5, 16, 18, 44, 112 Source-criticism of Acts, 75 f. Spirit, 22, 78, 81, 102 f., 114,129 Stephen, 25, 84-5, 92, 96 Stoic philosophy, 121, 126, 128 Strack and Billerbeck, 145 Streeter, Canon B. H., 17 Supernatural, the, 47 f. Swete, 30 Synagogue, 118 Syncretism, jio Talmud, n, 145 Testimonies, the, 24, 101 Third day, the, 16, 147 Traditions, the two, 40 f. Trinity, the, 42, 44, 135 f. Twelve, the, 3, 85 f. Vincent of Lerinum, 132 Wisdom literature, n

ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 10

THE CHRISTIAN MYSTERY

THE CHRISTIAN MYSTERY An Exposition of Esoteric Christianity

LOIS LANG-SIMS

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1980 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1980 George Allen & Unwin Ltd. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

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The Christian Mystery An Exposition of Esoteric Christianity

By

LOIS LANG-SIMS

London GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN Boston

Sydney

First published in 1980 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. All rights are reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, 1956, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, electrical, chemical, mechanical, optical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Enquiries should be sent to the publishers at the undermentioned address: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD 40 Museum Street, London WCiA iLU George Allen & Unwin (Publishers) Ltd, 1980 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Lane-Sims, Lois The Christian mystery, i. Theology, Doctrinal I. Title 230 BT77.3 80-41004 ISBN 0-04-200038-6

Set in 11 on 12 point Ehrhardt by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Manchester and printed in Great Britain by Biddies Ltd, Guildford, Surrey

Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

The Reality of the Myth P Wernle, p. 42.

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birds; He sends rain and sunshine on the good and the evil, the just and unjust. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His will. He counts even the hairs on our head. God is no longer so distant from the pious as to prevent the pronunciation of His name. In the later period of Judaism God had withdrawn from the world; in H. J. Holtzmann's expressive phrase, "God had exactly regulated the world clock in order suddenly to stop it at a given point."1 The God of Jesus has left this transcendental height and has come closer to man.2 He is no longer "God devouring the sinner; He seeks him out" (Otto, loc. cit.). He brings aid, He is full of kindness and mercy, He is the bringer of salvation. The qualities which in the Old Testament had only occasionally illuminated the darkness like a shooting star shine in Jesus like a bright sun. We can hardly say with K. L. Schmidts that the thought and life of Jesus reflected the Jewish concept of God in its purity and self-consistency; for the Jewish God had harsh and gloomy traits, the elimination of which would not have seemed to the Jews to be an act of purification or of logical development. It would be more correct to say that Jesus raised to a higher power the love and kindness of God occurring in the Old Testament side by side with contradictory properties, and made of them the essential substance of God. Closely connected with this is the fact that Jesus effected a fundamental reform of the idea of justice. This concept had been deformed by elements of compulsion neurosis; it had been deformed into something harsh, devoid of love, pedantically formal, morally irrelevant and consequently harmful to the soiil. Jesus turned this justice into a rectification of evil and made it in its entirety a part of love. Looked at from the point of view of collective psychiatry the process is clearly the curing of a compulsion neurosis; regarded as part of the history of dogma it is the removal of an orthodoxy. God is love and kindness. As such He exerts His infinite power and manifests it in miracles. In his view of God Jesus avoids any feeble vagueness; his picture of God receives a firm definition only through the powerful contrast with the devil and the demons which play 1

H. J. Holtzmann, NtL Theologiey I, p. 79. R. Otto, Reich Gottes und Menschensohn* p. 78. 3 K. L. Schmidt, "Jesus Christus," R.G.G.,* Vol. Ill p. 140.

2

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their part on earth as adversaries and exercise a sinister degree of power. In this way a kindness which would otherwise be omnipotent is limited: a similar limitation is imposed by human sin. But this limitation is operative only within the limits permitted by God. The justice of God punishes the sinner; the angels form intermediate authorities between the Heavenly Father and His children on earth.1 Nevertheless in the picture of God the friendly traits which are far superior to the forces of evil predominate; even at this stage we feel inclined to echo Rudolf Otto's jubilant words: "The gloomy and ascetic phase of dread before God's day of wrath is ended."2 At the same time there are certain objections to be considered. By virtue of the cognition of God effected by Jesus man is raised to the dignity of a child of God; in so far as he is peacemaker3 and loves his enemies4 he even becomes a son of God. Not only the Jews but also the pious heathen have a right to admission into this family, whose Father is God Himself. Jesus as emissary of God has a special care for the publicans and sinners, the despised and rejected. For this reason those who know the Father in heaven are inevitably exempt from fear and sorrow. It is God's work to care for each of His creatures; consequently the fear which manifests itself in grief and gloomy thoughts about the future is necessarily extinguished. God's Claim on Man But the belief in God's love contains no element of mawkishness or sentimentality. It is from love that God makes His claims on man—claims going far beyond the commandments contained in the Law of Moses. Here, however, the demand is that every action shall be based on love and therefore on joy. According to the view of Jesus the one essential for salvation is that the moral claim shall be fulfilled. Pursuing the path outlined by St. Paul, the Christian Church has again and again obscured, distorted and attempted to refute this fundamental fact, and in doing so has done incalculable harm to the development of Christian piety. And yet Jesus never made salvation depend on the belief in any given dogma, on participation in 1

Wernle, p. 46.

» Otto, p. 57.

3 Matt. v. 9.

4 Ibid., 45.

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any religious ceremonies or on subordination to the institutions of the Church. "Ye shall know them by their fruits ... Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father" (Matt. vii. 16-21). "And when he was gone forth into the way, there came one running, and kneeled to him, and asked him, Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life? And Jesus said unto him, Why callest thou me good? there is none good, but one, that is, God. Thou knowest the commandments, Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness . . ." (Mark x. 17 ff.). There could be no clearer way of declaring that it is moral action that leads to salvation and not obedience to doctrine and ritual. The lawyer who asked what he must do to inherit eternal life was reminded in reply of the "commandment" to love God and his neighbour and these words were illustrated forthwith by the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke x. 25 ff.). In the great speech about the Last Judgment Jesus points out that works of mercy are the conditions for admission to the everlasting kingdom of heaven (Matt. xxv. 31 ff.). Even if the genuineness of this speech is questioned it must still be admitted that it expresses excellently the attitude of Jesus. Here he shows himself as a "moralist." The ethical system of Jesus bears a grave and radical character. "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect" (Matt. v. 48). It might seem that this demand cannot be fulfilled, particularly in view of God's holiness; it is certain in any case that it would completely absorb man's physical and spiritual forces. At the same time the mental attitude and practice of ascetism are abolished. Fasting, purification and the tyranny of the Sabbath lose their validity; the Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath. Jesus is not offended by being decried as a glutton and drunkard and by bearing an evil reputation as compared with the gloomy John. His own explanation is psychologically interesting: "Can the children of the bridechamber fast, while the bridegroom is with them?" (Mark ii. 19). A joyous love has been restored to its rights; and it puts an end to the traditional collective compulsion neurosis which had been forced upon the people by the cult of the loveless Law. Though it retains its general validity the yoke of the Mosaic Law is

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broken: it loses its sinister and threatening character. As we saw above (p. 182) Jesus is not afraid to declare that certain rules of the Law hitherto held sacred by the people are invalid. The commandments which laid it down that when a wife is put away she must be given a writing of divorcement was refuted by Jesus by what is really an analytical consideration: "Moses because of the hardness of your hearts . . ." (Matt. xix. 8). The licence which brought such unhappiness to innocent wives is thus attributed to Moses and not to God; such a cruel commandment could not be harmonized with the god of love. Jesus therefore traces back analytically the alleged commandment to its source; and he finds the source in human sin. God's love confers a quite new significance on ritual as well as on ethics. Jesus was not a law-giver and it would be a grave misunderstanding to regard him as such. All commandments, the Law and the prophets and duties towards God and man, can be comprehended in one rule: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart. . . Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" (Mark xii. 30-31). The two propositions are essentially one: each postulates the other. The God of love cannot be loved unless mankind—the children of God whom God loves—are embraced within this love, and conversely. The recognition that there is a justification for self-love is an extremely valuable rule helping to alleviate fear and to promote the health of the soul: it emerges inevitably from the new certitude of God. Where a man's attitude to his own ego is strongly negative, as is the case with many self-tormenting neurotics, we generally find fear in a disguised or undisguised form. Jesus was not a law-giver. Not only because he refrained from laying down commandments regulating life and all its details,l but also, a fact not sufficiently stressed by theologians, because he annulled the traditional character of the Law itself. Love cannot be commanded as it is possible to command, for example, that the Sabbath must be observed; one cannot say "Thou shalt love." The most that can be said to a man is "Thou oughtest to love." It is practicable also to confront an individual with facts tending normally to elicit love and to stress the harmful effects of an absence of love in the individual. The theory of 1

Dibelius, Jesus, p. 89.

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neurosis and of depth psychology as applied by the ministry bears evidence to the disastrous effects resulting where love is neglected or subject to malformation. Jesus points everywhere to the manifestations of God's love which he himself had experienced so abundantly, and thus elicits love in return from man. Punitive justice too, grave as are the forms which it can and must assume, is the outcome of kindness and—apart from one eschatological exception—aims at the salvation of man. Punishment is not the vengeance of an angry god: its object is to reclaim man; and a connection also is established between suffering and God's kindness. At no place is God's justice otherwise than inspired by love; justice is regarded as one of its manifestations. In the Old Testament, on the other hand, love had been eliminated and detached from punishment through a process of compulsion neurosis; and consequently punitive judgment had been deprived of its original intention and had been turned into an institution incapable of promoting the growth of love. Out of this love of God—which embraces love of men— there emerges a moral and ethical line of conduct leading to actions of far greater value and—as we may add in this connection—providing a far more efficacious alleviation of fear, than all the meticulous casuistry of the Torah. It is clear that this frame of mind is wholly desirable and that, according to the conviction of Jesus, it agrees with God's commandment of love and with man's destiny. In his chief commandment Jesus retains the form of the Law, but, with a smile of kindness, also eliminates its legal character. Nowhere does he infringe human freedom: the decision is left to man himself. The Mosaic Law with its harsh framework of threats is removed, and is replaced by a certain frame of mind. It is this frame of mind that God's holy will to love—a will frequently rigorous precisely because of its kindness—requires of each of His children; and it not only agrees with God's own disposition but also renders an optimum service to human well-being and acts as the surest purgative of the demon of fear. In the place of the rigid "Thou shah" Jesus thus puts an ideal preached in accents of love; an ideal removing the conflict between duty and inclination, God's will and human will. In this process a far greater number of good and pious deeds spring G

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from the heart than even the strictest code could demand or produce. Jesus can ask for infinitely more than the Law because he also bestows the greatest strength to aid in the realization of a maximum achievement: a love set free by God's action in going out to meet man. Once this is grasped we can also understand those behests of Jesus which customarily are treated as worthless because unrealizable or are laid aside with an embarrassed shrug as impracticable. Such are Matthew v. 39: "Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloke also"; or again, verse 44: "Love your enemies"; or Matthew vi. 3: "But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth"; or verse 19: "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth." Erected into a law these principles would produce economic chaos—a disaster; and unless adopted universally they would only assist crime. But if they are treated as directives and ideals revealed to us by God's love and holy paternal will, though not intended to be accepted and executed in the literal spirit of the Law—which would be fatal to the element of love in them—they prove to be inspired by the highest practical wisdom. Jesus thus is setting up not commandments but ideals: not for our aesthetic approval, but as objectives for which to fight with all our power even unto death. For these ideals are the expression of God's holy will to love, and their fulfilment or neglect determines man's weal or woe. Contempt of the divine rules of love brings its own heavy punishment, like infringements of the rules of health: the latter too, like the rule of love laid down by Jesus, are no more than grave directives adapted to human nature. We thus begin to apprehend that the lives of the individual and of the community would undergo a profound revolution if they were to direct all their forces towards the greatest possible realization of these saving ideals. War, the oppression of the weak by the strong in economic life, avarice, the craving for power, ambition and many other errors would end if this revaluation of the values of life were to be undertaken. We find that psychologically Jesus applied a wholly novel method, never previously employed throughout the history of

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ethics and religion. This method was a requisite following from the experience Jesus had had of God. A piety and a morals of a negative, prohibitive and ascetic nature are replaced by a positive piety and ethics opening the way to higher and even to the highest values, eliciting sublimations and preparing the individual for a higher moral development. When Jesus forbids an action he does so in order to win higher values. He thus stands for the principle of over-compensation which is one of the most important rules of education in general and of corrective education in particular.1 This method again must be regarded as a hygienic rule of the first order and as an antidote to fear of the first rank. Among the various ethical rulings and suggestions of Jesus special stress should be given to his demand that men shall forgive, and shall renounce hate. God extends His mercy if man shows forgiveness, as is shown in the parable of the wicked servant (Matt xviii. 23 ff.). It is hard to forgive until seventy times seven (Matt, xviii. 22). But anyone acquainted with neuroses knows that grave sufferings may be caused if the patient refuses to undertake the act of forgiveness. Grievous symptoms of fear and of disease arise solely from repressed hate when the inner censor, the unconscious, executes judgment. From the commandment of Jesus that man shall love there follows the prohibition of judgment: "]udge not, that ye be not judged" (Matt. vii. i). This again is medically an exceedingly valuable prohibition. In the Lord's Prayer man's duty of forgiveness is made the condition of God's forgiveness (cp. the parable of the wicked servant, Matt, xviii. 23 ff.); similarly Jesus utters a warning against uncharitable judgment by pointing to God's judgment (Matt. vii. 2) and by reminding men of their own faults. Work of enormous significance in preventing and overcoming fear was also done by Jesus when he invested the powers of man in concrete ethical achievements in the spirit of love and consequently of joy and of inner satisfaction. Here no opportunity is given for the autistic waste of energy; repressions with their multifarious pathological after-effects, and more particularly repressions resulting in fear and compulsion of an individual or collective kind (or orthodoxy) are either prevented or largely cured. 1

Pfister, Analyt. Seelsorge^ p. 37.

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This is shown very strikingly in the attitude of Jesus towards sexual ethics. Matthew xix. 5 ff. runs literally as follows: "For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife: and they twain shall be one flesh." (This is exactly equivalent to Mark x. 8 except that the words "shall cleave to his wife" are omitted.) The sequel states expressly that God has joined the two together (literally has yoked them together under the same yoke), owe'£eu£ev. Thus Jesus declares that the sexual unity of man and wife (cp. Gen. ii. 24) is fundamentally the will of God, and consequently is pure; whence it follows that the same applies to the sexual desire which the Catholic Church later declared to be contrary to the ideal of holiness. Clearly by assigning this positive value to sexuality Jesus stopped a very important source of individual and collective fear. Thus the demands of Jesus, so far as we have examined them, prove in each case to contain an element of development. Wernle stresses the point that Jesus represents autonomy as opposed to the heteronomy of the Rabbis,1 or rather the autonomy of his own ethical consciousness;* others decline to admit this and assert with FeineS that Jesus could not claim autonomy relatively to God but that also he could not have felt himself subject to an external will once God's will had become his own will. The contradiction resolves itself on closer examination: the subjection to God's law proves equivalent to autonomy since Jesus became acquainted with the will of God, not from the authority of the Scriptures and of the Synagogue but from his direct experience of God, which corresponded with his own essential being. Jesus himself naturally felt the impulse to preach the will of God, as in fact he did, as a divine order—as a mission. What is autonomy in terms of psychology is the subjection to God's law in terms of Jesus's prophetic experience. An equally impressive contribution to the repression and removal of fear was made by Jesus when he replaced attachment to physical parents by a direct subordination to God, and when he suspended the rule of obedience to parents in cases of conflict between these two authorities. A strikingly large number of sayings foretell this extremely un-Jewish conflict. Indeed they impose it as an obligation, even if we neglect the sharp words ' Wernle, p. 109.

* Ibid., p.m.

3 Feine, Theol. d&s N.T., p. 100.

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with which he repelled the request of Mary his mother. "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" (John ii. 4). The authenticity of this passage is disputed, but in Mark iii. 21, 31 ff. he refuses to obey when his mother, accompanied by her children, tries to bring him home as one beside himself. Instead, pointing to the multitude sitting round—not only to his disciples—he says: "Behold my mother and my brethren; for whosoever shall do the will of God the same is my brother and my sister, and mother." Some of the sayings imply that a choice must be made between Jesus and the Father in heaven on the one hand, and a physical father on the other, e.g. Matthew x. 35 ff.: "For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother . . ." and "A man's foes shall be they of his own household" (x. 36). Jesus thus applies to his divine message the principles of Deuteronomy xiii. 6 ff. where it is laid down that members of a man's family serving other gods must be put to death. In this passage, however, the threat of death, significantly, is not applied to a father. In Luke xiv. 26 Jesus speaks even more strongly: "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children . . . yea and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple." It would be incorrect to read into this description of a painful fact a requirement of actual hate; this is implicit in the demand that the man shall hate his own life, which Jesus in his central commandment (Mark xii. 30) contrasts with love of himself. There is no doubt, however, that a clear separation is required when a father's attitude is nonChristian. Certain of the sayings proclaiming a breach between parents and children may have an eschatological significance; but this is not the case with all. In Matthew xxiii. 9 the words: "Call no man your father upon the earth: for one is your father which is in heaven" have a universal and eternal significance. Nor must it be overlooked that the Gospels describe Jesus as a champion of the love and duty of children towards their parents (Mark vii. 10-13); the argument is not in favour of unconditional obedience, but in favour of unconditional support of parents by their children, as opposed to the Pharisees, who wished to diminish this duty in favour of sacrificial worship. The principle of love is thus preserved. Again, Matthew x. 37: "He that loveth

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father or mother more than me is not worthy of me" cannot bear an eschatological limitation.1 Reference should here be made to the way in which Jesus places the idea of love above that of rewards as a motive. It is possible here—as in his attitude to the Mosaic Law, to nationality and to other problems—to observe a gradual development. At first Jesus simply took the idea of a reward from the popular faith; later he gave it a more spiritual significance and finally he abandoned it altogether and replaced it by the idea of divine mercy (cp. the culminating series, Matt. vi. 2; v. 12; xx. 1-16; Luke xvii. 10; xv. 11-24). Holtzmann coins the formula: "Thus the reward becomes mercy, and mercy becomes the reward."* As an aid against fear the substitution of a promise of mercy for treatment according to merit or (a necessary consequence) according to a man's guilt, is of inestimable importance, particularly if a strict standard is attributed to God and divine punishment or mercy is placed in the beyond. The ritual rules of the Law stood in the eyes of the contemporary Jews on the same plane or on a higher plane than its moral rule. The more freely Jesus allowed love to have full play, the more the field of ritual with its compulsion-neurotic effects was restricted. We need not describe in detail the stages which can be clearly perceived in the fight carried through by Jesus on behalf of love as the one fundamental force in religious practice. In these stages the advance of freedom from fear and hence of freedom in general can be seen. Everyone knows that side by side with conservative sayings which show Jesus as an obedient son of the Synagogue, extremely radical ones can be found. He admits the validity of sacrifices in words which, however, place the moral obligation above the claims of ritual: "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift" (Matt. v. 23-24). His casting out of the money-changers from the Temple (Matt. xxi. 12 ff.) can hardly be understood otherwise than as the abolition of the sacrificial ritual in general ;3 for it is nowhere stated that 1

Cp. also Matt. xix. 5, 29; xxiii. 9. * Holtzmann, I, p. 195. 3 Schmidt, R.G.G., Art. "Jesus," III, p. 147.

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Jesus wished to punish these men for improper business practices. The religion of love prohibits the practice of ritual 'as a compulsory action—a necessary procedure required to alleviate fear. The stereotyped formulae which can cause compulsion neurotics so much pleasure and can save them so much pain, both in religious and in profane practice, have no place in the practice of Jesus. Even the Lord's Prayer was not intended to be verbally repeated. True, it was introduced by the words: "After this manner therefore pray ye" (Matt. vi. 9); but this was intended to denote the general sense and spirit, since otherwise Jesus would have prescribed a given form of words. Even the holiest of all prayers is susceptible to the danger of parrot-like repetition if it is used by the mass; it becomes a form of apotropaeic magic and its omission is experienced in the form of guilt and is punished with fear, as is frequently observed in neurotic children and adults. The only elements of ritual retained by Jesus are those derived from love of God and calculated to foster the practice of love. The view held by Jesus about prayer also underwent a change. At one stage Jesus expressly recommended importunate prayer, as in the parable of the man who wakes his friend at midnight to borrow three loaves for a guest, and in the strange application of the parable to God, declaring that the friend would comply not for the sake of friendship but to meet his friend's importunity (Luke xi. 5 ff.). Again, there is his comparison of God with the unjust judge who did justice to the widow not for the sake of justice but because of her importunity and to prevent her from troubling him (Luke xviii. 1-8). Between these stages and the final one of the prayer on Gethsemane there is a wide gulf: "Not as I will but as Thou wilt." In the earlier stages prayer might have been regarded as a rule for obtaining earthly advantages; here it becomes the expression of Jesus's longing for God's help in his extremity, for the certainty of God's presence and for strength to surrender himself to the will of the Father. The words on the Cross: "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" (Mark xv. 34) do not denote the failure of his faith in God's helping presence but the reverse. The Aramaic words are the beginning of Psalm xxii, where an unfortunate whose position

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bears some similarity to that of Jesus tells God of his distress, prays believingly for help and foretells his own deliverance (Ps. xxii. 23 ff.). When Jesus on the Cross at the hour of death pronounced this text from the Psalm he clearly had in mind the whole of the psalm with all its powerful hope and unshaken faith in God. Ardent prayer of this kind clearly contains an extraordinary power for preventing and removing fear. The disciple of Jesus does not lock up his sorrows; he brings them before God and thus diminishes the danger of a harmful repression. He knows that he is under the protection of an almighty and loving Father in heaven who is capable even of miracles. If he suffers and dares he does not do so alone, since God is with him. He does not take himself as an individual and his private fears too seriously but he is capable of enduring and suffering all for God and His holy intent. The repentance demanded by Jesus goes beyond ritual. It had been demanded by John the Baptist too; but with him it had a threatening flavour. With John repentance, as Dibelius says, meant a kind of holy dread afflicting1 the unholy man in the presence of a holy God. For Jesus repentance was something entirely different. The word properly means change of mind; the word probably used by John the Baptist (Tesuba) means a turning back, a breach with a former way of life.2 This turning about is certainly the effect of a change of mind with John as with Jesus; but with John it is part of his wrathful preaching and is given a gloomy tinge from the fact that it forms part of the announcement of an impending judgment (Matt. iii. 2). With Jesus on the other hand this change of mind (repentance, ficrdvoLa) is indissolubly connected with the announcement of the Gospel (cp. Mark i. 14). "Jesus came . . . preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and saying, the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye, and believe the gospel." The gloomy element of repentance is thus eliminated; in its place there is the radiance of the good news, and the imminence of the kingdom of God. It goes without saying that with Jesus too, repentance does not exclude sincere remorse; but the element of fear is removed, and trust in God's mercy predomi1

Dibelius, Jesus, p. 45.

a

Johannes Weiss in Die Schriften ties N.T.t I, p. 224,

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nates. In the parable of the prodigal son (Luke xv. 11 ff.) Jesus shows that the penitent confession of sin, the return to the heavenly father and a sincere readiness for humble and faithful service are accepted by the divine mercy as adequate to achieve the forgiveness of sins and to cause rejoicing in the kingdom of heaven. Similarly Jesus (Luke vii. 47) says of the woman who was a sinner: "Her sins, which are many, are forgiven" and to the man sick of the palsy (Matt. ix. 2) "Thy sins be forgiven thee." Sins are freely forgiven, gratis, from the pure gratia dei, when the conditions have been brought about in the soul of the sinner which it was the object of sacrifice to effect, though all too frequently the results were slight owing to the sacrifice turning, as it easily does, into a mere ritual. The real conditions required in the soul are, negatively, remorse and, positively confession and a renewed devotion to God. In this way repentance ceases to be an act of dread and becomes an act of trust; the turning back becomes a return to the scene of eternal love and mercy. Repentance turns its face forward; it no longer looks back. This also is how the fifth prayer, that for the forgiveness of sins (Matt. vi. 12) should be understood in the Lord's Prayer. Here, as in the case of the prodigal son, the woman who had sinned and the man sick of the palsy, there is no question of a vicarious atonement. At no time did Jesus make a mental reservation in the sense that his words were not to be taken literally and that forgiveness of sins would take place only after he had vicariously atoned for them by his death. Jesus was no Paulinist nor did he practise the mental reservation of the Jesuits. He wished to be understood out of his own words, and that is how he ought to be understood. The Promises of Jesus The promises made by Jesus are among the most important and effective means for eliminating fear. Among these the first which should be mentioned is that of the imminence of the kingdom of God. In view of the need for brevity we must give this concept summary treatment. Jesus assumes that it is known to his listeners,1 but attaches to it a meaning entirely different from that of John, who represented it approximately as Jahveh's 1

Schmidt, R.G.G., III, p. 126. *

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1

day of wrath. Nor does the view of Jesus agree with other Jewish apocalyptic writings. If for no other reason this is why the kingdom of God or of heaven is not for Jesus a cause of fear but a liberation from fear: the king ruling over this kingdom, which is supposed to be close at hand, is love and mercy. What is the meaning of "kingdom of God ?" It is certainly an order where God rules as king and His will is not thwarted or hampered by the opposing powers of evil as had hitherto always been the case. To-day the Devil and the demons work in opposition to God and subject men to their evil will. In the kingdom of God, God has, as it were, ascended the throne of the world and rules alone, His adversaries having been overcome and cast out and the kingdom of Satan overthrown.2 An entirely new state, dominated by holy love, has begun. Wernle asks whether we ought not to say "domination of God'5 instead of "kingdom of God"3 and Bultmann uses this expression throughout.4 Rudolf Otto, on the other hand, questions it and prefers "sphere of domination'^ to kingdom, on the ground that it is the idea of a sphere which predominates. Among the special characteristics of the kingdom of God are these: it forms a contrast to the conditions hitherto existing; it is a new age; it manifests the glorious power of God in its perfection on earth; it descends from heaven to earth; it embraces the heavenly son of man and the Holy Ghost, God's angels, the figures of ancient time who have ascended to God and existences partaking of the nature of angels; it is the perfect manifestation of the will of God, so that men act solely as the vessels and instruments of the divine love and holiness and embody an absolute justice. A blissful age of salvation and perfection is introduced with the kingdom of God.6 It cannot be brought about by man, but only by God. Daniel in his day had proclaimed the advent of a kingdom of God, and Jesus borrowed the expression from him.7 This prophecy presupposed the existence of God's wonderful decree; and the same applied to the rule of God promised by Jesus. Clearly the kingdom of God in this sense, where it denotes a 1 Otto, Reich Gottes und Mensckensohn,2 p. 47. * Feine, p. 17. 3 Wemle, p. 206. 4 Bultmann, pp. 27 ff. 5 Otto, Gottesreich und Menschensohn^ p. 37. 6 R. Otto, pp. 30-49. 7 Feine, p. 74 (Dan. vii. 13 ff.).

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state breaking in upon the world from above and embracing it in its entirety, must lie in the future. Jesus frequently spoke of its imminence, e.g. Matthew xxvi. 64: "Hereafter shall ye see the son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven"1 or again Matthew x. 23; "When they persecute you in this city, flee ye into another: for verily I say unto you, ye shall not have gone over the cities of Israel, till the son of man be come." On other occasions Jesus put the coming of the kingdom of God in a more distant future, e.g. Matthew xxiv. 48;2 or again left it entirely vague as in the Lord's Prayer: "thy kingdom come." Violent controversy continues on the question whether Jesus always and exclusively regarded the kingdom of God as lying in the future (the eschatological view) or whether he also believed in a kingdom of God existing in the present. This would evidently imply that he held different views about the kingdom of God. Albert SchweitzerS pleads for the exclusively eschatological view with rigorous consistency rather than with exegetical and psychological care, whereas according to Rudolf Otto it would be a denial of the peculiar preaching of Jesus if this view were to be regarded as exhausting the fullness of his teaching.^ In the following texts Jesus unequivocally declared that the kingdom of God was already in existence and not merely close at hand: Matthew xii. 28: "But if I cast out devils by the spirit of God, then the kingdom of God is come unto you." To John the Baptist, who asked him whether he was the Messiah, he replied with an allusion to Isaiah xxxv. 5 f. and Ixi. i: "The blind receive their sight, and the lame walk . . . the dead are raised up, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them" (Matt. xi. 5 f.). It would be a mistake to interpret these passages as referring to purely spiritual effects on the ground that they end with a reference to the announcement of the good tidings. On the contrary, the period of salvation foretold of old with all its miracles is supposed now to have begun.5 As early as Deutero-Isaiah we find the tidings of joy forming the 1

Cp., Markix. Feine, p. 77: Parable of the good and evil servants. The latter says: My lord delayeth his coming. 3 Albert Schweitzer, Leben-Jesu-Forschungf 1921; Nigg, Das ewige Reich, p. 40. 4 Otto, Reich Gottes und Menschensohn, pp. 47 ff. 5 Feine, p. 78. Cp. Wernle, pp. 228 ff. a

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climax and playing a more important part than the overcoming of physical distress. The parables of the mustard seed, the leaven, the miraculous draught, the buried treasure, and the pearl of great price are to be understood on the same assumption,1 and this also applies to Luke xvii. 20 f.: "The kingdom of God cometh not with observation (i.e. accompanied by external phenomena as described by the Apocalyptic writers) . . . for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you." If Jesus saw Satan falling as lightning from heaven (Luke x. 18) or again if he cast out demons, this also served to him as proof that the domination of the Devil had ended and the domination of God had become a reality. According to Otto, Matthew xi. 12 should be interpreted and translated as follows: "Since the days of John and until now the kingdom of heaven has been and is exercising its power (j8ia£ee70 438, 452 Righteousness, 349, 351 Ritual, 153, 167, 168, 198, 199, 200, 234, 3M, 334, 345, 555> 57Q Sacral Meal, 261, 262, 274 Sacrament, 256, 263, 300, 303, 339, 344, 361, 362, 366, 383 Sadism, 431 Saints, 277 Salvation, 344, 355, 356, 368, 379, 384, 393 Satan, 170, 171, 212, 235, 242, 265 Schizophrenia, 112, 477 Scrupulosity, 58 Second Coming, 218 Sin, 551 Society, 136, 140, 142, 306, 307 Sorceress, 408, 414, 421

586

CHRISTIANITY

AND FEAR

Stereotyping, 91, 271, 275, 278, 299, 303, 333* 345> 3^ Stockholm Conference, 573

Vicarious Death of Christ, 118 Virgin (see Mary in index of names)

Tabu, 155 Theoplerosis, 393 Torah, 193 Transubstantiation, 302, 303, 310, 381, 541 Tremendum (cause of dread, especially in religion), 152, 156, 167, 481, 507, 545 Trinity, 454

Washing Compulsion, 60, 76, 79, 117, "5> 294, 301* 435 Witches, 407, 408, 414, 457, 45^ 4** Witches, Trials of, At Peney, 419, 422 sqq. Works (as opposed to Faith), 246, 350, 35i

INDEX OF NAMES Adam, K., 277, 281, 287, 291, 302, 303 Adler, A., 51 Adrian VI, 281 Aichhorn, A., 150 Albertus Magnus, 281 Alexander VI, 282 Amerbach, B., 418 Amos, 186 Anhalt, Prince of, 360 Anselm, St., 528 Arbues, P., 290, 311 Aristotle, 560 Arnold, G., 530 Aton, 160 Atthis, 257, 262 Augustine, St., 282, 313, 333, 335, 350, 354, 3?6, 406, 527 Bach, J. S., 457 Bancroft, M., 565 Barnabas, 230 Barni, J., 417 Earth, K., 400, 406, 412, 429, 493, 560 Earth, P., 390, 430 Bastian, 425 Bellarmine, 279 Bernard, J., 421 sqq. Berthelier, P., 415 Bertholet, A., 302 Beza, Th., 392, 416, 428, 443, 444 Biedermann, A. E., 492, 553 Blanchet, 440, 441 Blanke, F., 358, 362, 374 Bloesch, E., 457 Bonaventura, 281 Bossert, A., 418 Boudriot, W., 391 Bourgeaulx, 419 sqq. Bousset, W., 204, 258 Bovet, P., 401 Bovet, Th., 61 Brenz, J., 417 Brun, R., 54, 56, 57 Brunfels, O., 417 Brunner, E., 393, 397, 515, 516, 517, 521, 522, 532» 558, 560, 5 6l > 56*> 563 Buhrer, P. T., 365 Bullinger, H., 382, 427, 451 Bultmann, R., 178, 180, 181, 202, 207, 208, 209, 220, 222, 223, 224, 226, 228 Biinzli, G., 360 Buri, F., 49 Calvin, 239 Cany, Mdme De, 416 Carnegie, A., 565 Carpzov, 459 Castellio, 404, 417, 418, 440, 441, 451, 463 sqq. Catherine of Siena, 334, 478

Cellarius, M., 417 Choisy, E., 392, 400, 410, 449 Cicero, 560 Clement VI, 282 Conrad of Marburg, 290 Constantinus, 259 Cracov, 459 Crell, 459 Curio, C., 417 Cyprian, St., 313 Cyril of Jerusalem, 272 Daniel, 202 Darnex, A., 420 sqq. Degerando, M., 513 Dei Liguori, A., 291 Deissmann, A., 187, 225, 228, 253 Dibelius, M., 200, 205, 214 Diekamp, F., 288 Dieterich, A., 363 Dinger, V., 382 Donzel, J. Ph., 419, 426 Doumergue, E., 392, 397, 403, 404, 413, 416, 425, 431, 433, 439, 440, 466 Duhm, B., 158, 162 Du Villars, 429 Ebner, C., 335 Ebner, M., 334, 478 Eisleben, J. A., 417 Eissfeldt, 158 Elizabeth, St., 290 Erasmus, 371, 374, 417 Ewich, J., 458 Farel, G., 433, 440 Farner, O., 376, 417 Feine, P., 175, i96» 2O7> *i8, 225, 256 Fendt, L., 281 Fenner, F., 208 Ferrara, Reneta of, 400 Fleury, F., 458 Flournoy, T., 31 Fox, G., 469 Francke, A. H., 475, 476 Frank, S., 417 Freud, S., 43, 49 sqq., 58, 80, 81, 82, 91, 93, 100 sqq., 110, 124, 127, 129, 130, 131, 136. 154, 160, 232, 251, 341, 363, 471, 502, 505, 539, 568 Fromm, E., 121, 128, 129, 390, 567 Gaberal, J., 418 Galiffe, J. B., 391, 413, 414, 429, 430 Gasset, Ortega y., 122, 123 Geisendorf, Dr. P. F., 428 Geneston, 442 Gerhardt, P., 457 Gichtel, J., 478 Girau, E., 466

CHRISTIANITY Girgensohn, K., 31 Goethe, 125, 147, 554 Grebel, K., 468 Gregory VII, 285 Gressmann, H., 157, 159, 160 Gribaldi, 418 Grotius, H., 459 Gunkel, H., 160, 164, 166 Haberlin, P., 80 Hackel, E., 514 Haller, M., !5i Harless, J. C. A., 531 Harnach, A., 494, 501 Hartmann, B., 287, 288 Hase.K.,458 Hedio, K., 417 Hegel, 30, 153, 492 Heidegger, M., 48, 49 Heiler, F., 272, 273, 275, 289, 300 Hengstenberg, E. W., 495, 496 Henry, P., 417 Hoennicke, G., 396 Hoffmann, H., 402, 468 Holscher, G., 158 Holtzmann, H. J., 175, 189, 198, 214, 254 Horney, K., 56, 568 Hosmann, C., 417 Huber, M., 146, 516 Hyperius, A., 418 Innocent VI, 281 Jacobs, P., 397, 398 Jaeckel, Th., 559 . ames, Son of Zebedee, 219 James, St., 218, 352 James, W., 31 eremiah, 167 erome, St., 285 esus, in, insqq., 507 "ob, 171, 172 _bhn, Gospel and Epistles, 46, 50, 191 John, Son of Zebedee, 219 ~ohn the Baptist, 184, 200 ones, E., 66 ulicher, A., 178, 239 ulius II, 282 Kaftan, 494 Kampschulte, J., 391, 408, 413* 4*7, 435> 439 Kant, 30, 184, 492, 556, 558 Katschthaler, J., 279 Keller, C., 382 Kierkegaard, Soren, 46 sqq.9 109, 111 Kirn, O., 494 Kleinberg, G., 417 Klostermann, E., 396 Klug, J., 282 Knox, J., 412 Kohler, W., 160, 346, 365, 380, 385, 417, 427, 448, 467, 482

A N D FEAR Koppler, 166 Kostiin, 347 Kretschmer, E., 345 Kummel, W., 183, 185, 224, 228 Landauer, K., 42 Lang, H., 355 Lange, J., 50 Lange-Eichbaum, W., 390 Lauterbach, 360 Le Bon, G., 120, 121, 122, 136 Leeuw, Van Der, G., 32 Lefebvre, J., 352, 353 Leo X, 281, 282 Leo XIII, 287 Liebeck, O., 43, 44, 45 Liertz, R., 58, 59 Lipsius, R. A., 492 Liidemann, 492 Ludwig, O., 240 Luther, 105, 233, 300, 344 sqq.y 417 Lutz, S., 477 Macarius, 334 McDougall, 136 Marquand, J. P., 565 Martensen, H. L., 111 Marti, K., 173, 494 Mary, Virgin, Madonna, 276, 293, 309, 319, 320^?., 328, 329, 332, 339, 359, 381, 450, 509> 533, 534 Melanchthon, 358, 459, 570 Melliez, C., 420 Meng, H., 36 Meyer, C. F., 553 Meyer, E., 158 Michaelis, W., 231 Mithras, 221, 257, 262 Moses, 158 sqq.y 183, 186, 187, 209, 216, 354 Mowinckel, 166 Mulhaupt, E., 402 Muller, J., 496 Naef, H., 428 Naumann, F., 565 Nehemiah, 169, 171, 173 Nigg,W, 5 53 Nygren, A., 364, 515, 516, 517 Occhino, B., 418 Oldenbarneveld, 459 Olivetan, 392 Otto, R., 30, 32, 152, 189, 202, 203, 204, 205, 207 Paul, St., 217 sqq., 507 Paulus, N., 458 Pellikanus, K., 417 Pestalozzi, H., 485, 531, 535, 561 Peter, St., 218, 234 Petronius, 152

INDEX OF NAMES Peucer, K., 459 Pfisterer, E., 413, 418, 428, 439, 440 Pfleiderer, O., 492 Pighius, A., 404 Plato, 517 Pratorius, A., 458 Procksch, O., 167 Reuter, F., 99 Rhegius, U., 417 Rieckert, H., 78 Ritschl, A., 494 Roberts, Lord, 44 Rockefeller, J., 565 Roget, A., 420 sqq., 428 Ropke, W., 566 Rothe, R., 532 Rousseau, J. J., 312, 336 Sadolepo, Cardinal, 393 Samson, 371 Santayana, G., 565 Scheel, O., 105, 345, 346, 347, 351 Schell, H., 301 Schenk, J., 417 Schlatter, A., 396 Schleiermacher, D. F., 30, 492, 553 Schmidt, K. L., 189, 207, 261 Schmiedel, P. W., 186 Schniewind, J., 396 Schopenhauer, 236 Schrenk, G., 204, 239 Schwarz, R., 416 Schwedler, J. C., 476 Schweitzer, A., 177, 178, 203, 204, 221, 230, 233, 240, 255, 256, 347, 549, 556 Schweizer, A., 375, 492 Schwenkfeld, K., 417 Sellin, E., 160, 173 Senebier, 483 Servet, M., 404, 415, 416, 427, 449, 483 Socinus, L., 417 Sombart, 487 Spinoza, 399 Sporri, T., 508 Stade, B., 158, 160 Stahelin, R., 413 Stauffer, E., 185 Staupitz, J., 347, 348, 354 Stekel, W., 44, 65

589

Stephen, St., 217, 219, 226, 227 Stickelberger, E., 413, 418, 439, 440 Tallian, B., 441 Tertullian, 272 Thiel, R., 356, 366 Thomas Aquinas, St., 274, 279, 281, 311, 547 Toussaint, P., 417 Trie, De, 416 Troeltsch, E., 358, 362, 365, 431, 480, 494, 495 Troud, Christina De St., 334 Ulpian, 560 Uttinger, H., 372 Vadian, 373 Vinet, A., 556 Viret, 439, 440, 443 Vischer, E., 396 Voltaire, 484 Von Hohenegg, H., 457 Von Schulthess-Rechberg, 494 Wagner, 564 Walder, R., 134 Weber, M., 431 Weinel, H., 220 Weiss, B., 396 Weiss, J., 396 Wellhausen, J., 162, 214, 396 Werner, M., 204 Wernle, P., 180, 181, 182, 196, 202, 210, 214, 241, 246, 256, 410, 449, 471, 474, 475, 483, 485 Weyer J.. 458 William IX of Poitiers, 508, 509 Wolflin, H., 369 Wrede, W., 246 Wuttke, A., 532 Zacchaeus, 218 Zebedee. 417 Zingg, M., 459 Zinzendorf, Count of, 473, 474, 478, 507, 547, 556 Zulliger, H., 363, 548 Zurkinden, N., 418 Zwingli, 417

ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 12

THE CATHEDRAL

THE CATHEDRAL

CLIVE SANSOM

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1958 by Methuen & Co. Copyright 1958 Clive Sansom All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

978-0-367-62307-4 978-1-003-10879-5 978-0-367-62546-7 978-0-367-63163-5 978-1-003-10963-1

(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 12) (hbk) (Volume 12) (pbk) (Volume 12) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

THE CATHEDRAL Clive Sansom

METHUEN & CO LTD 36 ESSEX STREET • LONDON W.C.2

© 1958 Clive Sansom First published 1958

Catalogue No1 jpp#/t 5998/U/

Printed in Great Britain by The Camelot Press Ltd, Southampton

While they lasted . . . they were not the Middle Ages at all. They hadn't the faintest idea that they were medieval. JOHN LIVINGSTON LOWES

Contents Spirit of the Cathedral The Land Peasant's Daughter Bishop Quarry-Master Dedication Architect Ballad of the Bishop's Trees S tone-Carver Gargoyles Wandering Scholars Crusader Wood-Carver Corpus Christi Play Martyr Spire-Builder The People Vespers Pilgrim Travelling Preacher The Devil Sanctuary Candle Carol Plague-Pit The Reliquary The Clock Cure-Seller

9

11 12 14 15 18 19 21 27 3o 34 35 38 43 46 47 48 51 54 56 58 60 61 66 67 69 71 73

Princess Lady Chapel John the Cellarer Lord and Lady The Doom Painting The Wool Window Rood-Loft The Wavering Canon The Queen The Martins' Chapel Nicholas Martin Bell Tower: i Morning Bell ii Fire Bell iii 'Great Peter9 iv Storm Bell Ironside Wall Monument The Pulpit Grave-Digger 'Restorer' The Font The Lectern Weathercock Sundial The Close The West Front Man and his Cathedral Prayer *

75 76 77 78 79 80 82 84 86 87 87 88 88 88 89 89 90 91 92 96 96 98 99 101 103 104 105 106 106 *

Notes

*

107 10

Spirit of the Cathedral

W

HATEVER is beautiful, whatever rouses The heart from its complacent sleep, says 'Man, you are more than man, more Than a repository of birth and death'—such beauty, Before the creative chisel of the mind Shaped it in stone or word, music Or colour, lay in the Imagination's eye, The retina of God.

They know, who see it, that a world exists Behind the world, where the thought, the Idea Of beauty, independent of its earthly form, Lives in perfection—an eternal realm Which holds the immaculate pattern fast The artist gropes to find. But being Artist he must grope, must mould Within his mouldering hands a symbol Of that perfection—loveliness dissolving Even as it leaves his touch, but telling For a space of time, of beauty free Of space and time. And beholders know The shadow's substance, the divine matrix From which this image came. So with the Cathedral. Before it laid Its pressure on the clay, enclosed the moving Air with arches, or threw its spire Upon the mercy of the wind—already in that other Kingdom stood the great archetype, Supreme and perfect, waiting only The man to see, the will to fashion Its mortal replica. ii

The Land EARLY THIRTEENTH CENTURY

E

KE the palm of an open hand These meadows lie. Like fingers slightly raised To the circling sky

Five valleys meet, And slide their streams Into this limpid place Timeless as dreams; Mingle their music with the birds' And then, as one, Find their eternal way To the sea and sun. Invaders, wave on wave, Have crossed this land— Columned ants on the skin Of a stretched hand. Iberian, Celt, Roman, Teuton and Dane Have poured from the sea northward To the Great Plain; Have ringed their temples there, Balanced them high Against the unrolling god-land Of cloud and sky; Built dyke and rampart, Fought and fled, Dug their long barrows there, Buried their dead; 12

Or, sheeping those chalk downs In upland air, Have shorn them clean of scrub, Curving and bare. But here, where river met Forest and fen, They left the land untouched, Unhoused by men Till Saxons felled the woods, Drained marsh away, And in water-meadows of smooth green Their cattle lay. Now Normans claim this place Of grass and reeds As glebe and manor-lands For their bishop's needs, Taking butter and brawn For his Plain-bound priests, Fish for their Friday fast, Duck for their feasts... . For a while the land rests. Freed from the weight Of woods, it stretches in the sun And breathes the late Warm air of Spring. All that the past creates Is now forgotten; and the land, The land waits. 13

Peasant's Daughter THIRTEENTH CENTURY

A

.IONG meads many my mother bore me, Where brooks meandering met under boughs. Ewe-leaze and kine-yard were all my dwelling, Hurdles that sheltered the shorn lamb. At Thane's bidding, they being his bondsmen, My father's kin felled fierce the woods, Down to their knees brought many a beech-lord, With heavy billhook hewed their limbs. Then, in its stead, this farmland fashioning, Meat they brought to their master's board. Such the country in childhood I cherished, Where crinkled cowslip and gildcup grew. Lying in grass, as to lark I listened, Sky was a wonder of cloud and song. Then, on a season, my seventh summer, Came dire tidings, deeds most dreadful— All these leasings, long held by labour, Lush meadlands set between streams, For a towered church, for tombs taken! At bailiff's word were we sent southward To land in sad heart, half won from wildness, Where all folk, churls and churls' children, With toil yearlong and many a hard task, Must forage food for the Bishop's builders. Seldom I walk where in youth I wandered, Where brooks meandering met in meads. At every step I see lost lark's-nest, Trampled cowslips, the covered sky.

14

Bishop THIRTEENTH CENTURY BISHOP: RICHARD LE JEUN, Bishop, being , In my sixty-third year translated to the see of York Do make these records of my undertakings

I

Our lot was hard, living in the King's land High on the Great Plain with winds for company, Imprisoned there in the midst of a vast fortress, Earth-ramparts surrounding us, and a towering keep Dwarfing the Church of God. Nor was that all: The garrison, leaders and led alike, Being the King's men, openly slighted us, Seeking our humiliation on all occasions. For more than a hundred years we endured these things, Praying a saint's patience. But some demurred: PETER OF BLOIS:

Brothers! it is not 'patience' to endure hurts Which our decision and labour can swiftly amend. Why suffer wind and cold, and bowmen's mockery, When in a few years, by our own efforts, We can remove ourselves from the barbs of both? What does the Church of God with the castles of men? Shall the Ark of the Covenant be held forever In the Temple of Baal? Nay, in God's name, Let us descend from the Plain. Below is Canaan— There he meadows and fertile valleys abounding In the fruits of the earth, watered by living streams. There is such a site for God's church As in the whole world finds no parallel! 15

BISHOP: My brother, Herbert le Jeun, then Bishop, Took no action, until at Rogationtide In the year of his death—twelve hundred and seventeen In Our Lord's reckoning—we made our procession Through the Church's land, visiting farms And manors, chanting litanies as is our custom. These performed, returning to the castle at nightfall And finding all gates barred against us, We slept in ditches in the shelter of a stockade With soldiers' laughter echoing from the walls above, And a vile tempest howling in our ears. They called us drunkenly: 'Sons of a bishop's concubine!'— A statement which, though true and known to many, Lacked the dignity of ecclesiastical etiquette, Nor was conducive to good discipline. Next morning, in full Chapter, above coughs and sneezes, My brother voiced our final resolution:— HERBERT LE JEUN:

I will labour earnestly to build an abode and church Far from this fortress and removed from the King's power. BISHOP: We therefore, between us, framing a petition, Despatched it to Pope Honorius by special messenger:—

MESSENGER: Holiness: thy servants under God, We beg thy intercession on behalf of our labours. This Church, a prisoner within a fortress, Is subject to such discomfort and oppression We reside here longer at peril to our lives. Our house is rocked by collision of the wind, and the abuse Of soldiery. Our roof is broken. The sound of wind Drowns voices of our priests at their high offices; 16

The cold of the wind brings winter suffering. Our only water, (save that through the roof itself), Is brought from afar at extortionate prices. We may not enter or leave the precincts of this building Without permission from the Castellan. On Holy Thursday, On Ash Wednesday when the Lord's Supper is administered, At the time of Synod or the ordination of clerks, The faithful who would visit us from beyond the city Are denied access on the grounds of military security. We pray thee, therefore, as our Father in God, Grant us permission to abandon this hill-prison And build again beyond its jurisdiction. BISHOP: Even as the messenger bore these words, my brother Died; and I, elected in his stead, Received the papal Nuncio and confirmed their truth. Within a year from Rome these tidings: POPE HONORIUS: Honorius, Bishop, Servant of the Servants of God, To our reverend bishop, Richard, brother in Christ, And to our beloved sons, the Dean and Chapter, greetings! We gave our mandate to Guido, legate and cardinal, Carefully to enquire into all things concerning you, And faithfully to report to us the result of his findings. These depositions, sealed under his seal, Being diligently examined by our chaplain, We find these complaints most adequately proved, And do, on our authority by God conferred, Grant you free power to transfer your church To a worthier site within that diocese. And be it known further that whoever in any sort Shall seek to infringe the tenor of this grant, Or to presume rashly to oppose the same, Shall incur the indignation of Almighty God, Be 17

And of Peter, blessed saint, his apostle, To whose glory and honour this Cathedral is dedicate. Dated this fourth day of the Calends of April, In the second year of our Pontificate. . . . BISHOP: On receiving these words, I informed the Chapter, Went to the altar, knelt, and praised God. Then alone, with none attending, I walked down— Down from the bleak, unlovely Plain, to the meadows That were green with willow, golden with buttercups. In the Boundary Fields, at the angle of three rivers, I sat down. I sat in the long grass And, for the first time in many years, Sat without thought, without prayer, Feeling only the sun and the soft wind. And as I dreamed, a vision. . . . I saw From the fields before me the great walls rise That would be a monument for ever to the Glory of God, The love and labour of man. I saw it grow Like living trees—stiff buttresses spreading With arches, with branched gables and lancets; The West Front clustered as thick with saints As berries on a holly-bush; and high above, In his niche under the topmost architrave, the blessed Peter, Raising his hand in joyful benediction.

Quarry-Master THIRTEENTH CENTURY

H

ERE is its birthplace; this vast cave The womb of our Cathedral, where we, her quarrymen, Laboured to ease her labour, Delivering it stone by stone. From here We sent each block by handcart and bullock-wagon, 18

Or floated it by stream to Dorbury Meadows To be hewn and carved from neutral freestone Into arch and column, niche and capital, Until it rose complete—a single building Formed from ten thousand parts. But here the rock still holds The shape of a cathedral, as grasses bear The seal of the risen deer. Look there, Now I have lit the torch! See That tremendous nave, its double aisles— Two lines of columns, pillars Of unhewn stone—left standing Eighty, ninety feet, to hold The hidden roof—advancing and receding At the torch's whim. Sometimes, Standing here, I fancy this Has the greater beauty, this mother church Crude and half-created, yet capable Of incredible births, like Lilith, Mother of Eve. . . . Who knows What wonder or monster may crawl from here Where Time's torch cannot reach?

Dedication THIRTEENTH CENTURY

O

F course I remember.—April, the Feast of Vitalis, The year my first was born. A time of showers, And priests from all over the three counties. 19

What did they do, those priests? What else But take off their shoes, every shaved man of them, And paddle in the wet grass! Then they sang. They sang the Litany of the Saints in the soft rain, With drops runneling their cheeks, mixing with their singing, And crawling wantonly down the lips of their saltires. The King there? No, he would have been, But he was away on the border, fighting the Welsh— Or making a treaty with them, the same thing. So were the nobles—except for our own Earl. He and his wife were there. Poor man! He little thought he'd be dead within five years And buried in that very cathedral—the first to be put there, And a lovely tomb. . . . Now what was I saying? Yes, it left off raining as they stopped singing, And the birds took up—you know how they do After a Spring shower—so it was hard to follow The Bishop's sermon. But that didn't matter: We saw him laying the first three stones. One for the Pope, they said, another for the Archbishop, And a third for himself. And he deserved it, Him having the trouble of it all and the wet feet. Well then, Longespee, he laid a stone; Then his lady; then the dean and chanter, The chancellor, treasurer, archdeacons and canons— A stone apiece so nobody would be left out— Some rolling up their sleeves and doing it properly, Some fussing and fumbling with their little trowel Till I wanted to snatch it from them and do it myself; And all the time those birds singing and singing. . . . Then they put on their shoes again and traipsed off.

20

Architect THIRTEENTH CENTURY

I

T

HOSE men, our fathers, returning from the First Crusade, Brought more than defeat, more even than victory: They brought from Jerusalem the pointed arch—though Euclid Had found it first. No mere device or decoration, But like the wheel and alphabet it opened a new world, A new dimension. ... It made possible The groined vault with its leaping height, its weight Not taken by the wall beneath the arch, but distributed To piers and buttresses, leaving the wall itself A thin shell, broken by many windows— Every stone given its work to do, Construction everywhere exposed, like the actions and motives Of men who are unshamed and unafraid. For that's the delight of the new architecture: One sees here, not the peace of inertia, But the poise that comes from the balance of opposing forces, As in the character of a great man—a calm Active, not passive—dynamic certainty! In a word, sir, since you are a poet And have your critics too, the difference between metre— The counting of syllables on placid fingers—and rhythm, The very articulation of the senses. . . . What's more, body and spirit being so entwined, It speaks for our religion as the Roman never spoke. Instead of the cautious calculation of the intellect, Following a rule of thumb, the daring flight Of the soul toward heaven—God's spirit in the stone. ii Ah, what joy to be alive at such a season! To be young—to flower when an idea is flowering! 21

Do you wonder I look back to happiness? There I see them—Canterbury, Chichester, Lincoln— In the springtime of their being, with the dew upon them. Within fifty years a new style was perfected, And I, Henry Falcon, for half that time Apprentice, mason, travelling mason, and finally Magister latomorum, master-mason, Taking my eightpence a day, with food and fuel, A cask of wine, forty-six holidays a year, And a squire's robe, fur-trimmed, at Michaelmas. Then here, at last, the greatest of opportunities— Interviewed, questioned, cross-questioned, appointed— Not the refashioning of an established church, Raising walls, adding vault and clerestory, But the erection of a complete cathedral on a site New and untrammelled. . . . Look forward you may To Paradise. Do you wonder that I look back?

in But I'd not reckoned with Master Jocelyn of Derby, Fabric Master, Clerk of Works, go-between And general factotum, thrusting his quill In my face at the least provocation. Believe me, sir, No art ever came from a committee, None. That's where you're fortunate in your profession, Though it may be less profitable. No group of busybodies Tosses the subject and its treatment at you, and dictates The words into your poem, . . . But in building There's not a minor canon or chapterhouse cleaner Who can't instruct you in the moulding of a capital, And knows more about vault-spanning than you know yourself. This Jocelyn, too, had handled a chisel once And chipped some tombs when the sacristan wasn't looking— Durham, I believe, or Exeter. In the trade He'd have been my block-boy at three ha'pence a day, But put a cope on him and he's my equal! 22

He wanted the French design of Rouen Or Amiens, transplanted holus bolus And dumped on an English meadow. I lectured them On the essential difference between the characters Of French and English, what is right for one, As I explained to them—ornate and decorative— Being wrong for the other, with his queer streak of austerity, Who always prefers the strong sweep of the whole To elaboration of detail. I scored that point. Then Master Jocelyn demanded that at least the sandstone Should come from Northern France—because at Canterbury It came from there. Again I harangued the Chapter: 'Why import it from Caen, at vast expense, When stone as fine may be quarried at your own doorstep?' 'Besides,' I argued, 'drawing it from our English earth, The Cathedral it becomes will be a natural outcrop, Belonging to our soil as well as to our soul!' The alliteration won them. Jocelyn concurred, Without conviction. Nor did he forgive. IV

Next he objected to my bay-design. 'These main arcades too low,' he told my drawings, Poking them with his stick. (They lay, seven yards of vellum, Rolled out on the Chapter-house floor). 'There!— These arches should be raised. As for the triforium. . . .' I spoke, but to no purpose. What did they care For balance and proportion, the basic principles Of building? All they knew: in three contests I had scored twice. Now was Jocelyn's turn. Next the spire. No spire, he said. A low, dwarfed, dwindled tower like Westminster's Was all that we required. As for expense (Conveniently forgotten when advocate for French stone) A spire was inexcusable extravagance. With his Treasurer's help—for money, have you noticed, 23

Has a habit of expanding and contracting with the speaker's mind— A spire would lead them all (here he raised One stiff admonitory prophet's finger) To bankruptcy and perdition. ... I hoped to trick them By strengthening the foundations at the crossing, building pillars To take a spire's weight if Master Jocelyn, With my great good-will, should knock at Purgatory Ahead of expectation. . . . But no, He was too shrewd for me, like a schoolmaster With nose for errors only. . . . Ah well, He's gone now, God rest his soul. (After a suitable period of expiation!) No doubt, like spiders, snakes, pain and the plague, He filled some purpose in a wider scheme. I wonder.... V

At last, after long discussion, the ground-plan was approved. We inked the drawings in. Then the night vigil A week from the summer solstice—St Peter's Eve— Waiting, with prayers and uneasy slumber, for dawn To colour the long skyline on the eastward plain. As the first rays broke, we set a rod Exactly between the sun and altar-site, fixing The line of orientation; and in that trance Which follows a wakeful night, we marked the plan, Cutting the outline of the drawings into the clean turf, While the anthem of First Vespers echoed in our ears: ' Who do men say I am, the son of man?9 *I say thou art Christ, son of the living God!9 'Ana I say to thee that thou art Peter: On this rock I will build my church.9 Discussion and more discussion. Then the invasion Of an army of workmen, pouring into this hollow of the plain Like its five rivers, and spreading over the countryside. Directly under me, the men of my own lodge: 24

Stone-cutters, carvers in freestone, wallers and setters; And continually behind us, feeding us from the quarry, The rough hewers of the stone, haulers and carters, Drivers of twelve-ox wagons; and those who supplied us With sand and timber, and draughts of morning ale! And at our heels again, the joiners and carpenters, Wood-carvers, slatters, plumbers and glaziers, Each with his knot of apprentices and pride in craft— Not forgetting the Treasurer who quarried for gold In the pouches of the wealthy, and the Cathedral Steward Who minted it in smaller coin to pay our wages. And Master Jocelyn, of course, Master Jocelyn, Who drew his skirts from our dust, yet fussed around us, Inspecting and questioning, before reporting to the Chapter, Like a hen who scratches importantly and withdraws to peck. VI

Ah, but once begun, even he Could not disturb my peace. How should he? Why, even a hairshirt monk, who harbours A colony of ardent fleas, performs his rites With soul unbitten. Why not I With my solitary louse? ... So I scratched, but smiled. Then, in a flood, all my original delight Returned. I accepted the limitations he imposed, Absorbed them in my conception. And as you know— In poetry the same—a creative mind can thrive On limitations. The challenge of a prescribed form Calls out some further strength, almost creating The words that can subdue it, till it becomes Servant not master. True, I have regretted The spire and bay-design, but not enough To maim my pleasure. Besides, what consolations! Which? Those shafts of smooth, grey Purbeck That round each sandstone pier? They are much admired. I love them too. So tall, so slender. . . . 25

Stolen from Worcester, of course. No cathedral, Like Zeus, is self-begotten. I could talk for hours On the heredity of art. (I won't, I promise you!) The virtue Is not to refrain from stealing, but to steal with judgment, Shaping to our own needs, and improving on it As I have done. There are none—none like them In the whole span of Europe—standing there In fours and eights around their central pillars, As girls, in Maytime, stand marshalled for the dance. And so much more. Look!—look around you And above! Everything, from the humblest plinth To the loftiest boss-pinned heaven of the vault—all Is instinct with love, the God-within-the-stone! There—I repeat myself. I am growing old. I have given my years to her. But confess, sir— Is she not worth it, this living creature I've played the midwife to? Is she not beautiful? VII

A Cathedral is more than the stones composing her. She is The cave and the temple—descendant of all experiments That man has made, to shelter in one space His body and his soul. . . . She is the thoughts Of those who conceived her, the skill and sweat Of her craftsmen. She is more. She is the patina Of time upon her surface, the rubbing of wind and weather. She is the pilgrims who pray there, the line of visitors Who gape and stare, not knowing at what They stare. She is decay and reconstruction. She is beauty, courage, endurance. She is epitome Of all that we have loved, all we have attained In our search for the unattainable. . . . Until That final doom awaits all man's creations, By man's own hand, or Nature's retaliation, She is herself: she is the Cathedral. 26

Ballad of the Bishop's Trees A legend told in the sixteenth century of a happening in the thirteenth

N

ow listen well to the tale I tell, And mark what I do sing, For you shall be told of a Bishop bold And how he tricked a King. The Bishop he came to the King's palace And humbly bent his knee. 'What are your tidings, my Lord Bishop? What boon do you crave of me?' 'I build a church in Dorbury, sire, For the glory of God and thee; But gold is scarce and timber too, We lack for many a tree/ 'No gold have I, my good Lord Bishop, No gold have I to spare, But yet is many a stout oak tree Grows in my forest there. 'O you may take for the Church's sake As many within my park As may be felled in three full days Between the dawn and dark.' The Bishop thanked the King right well, Though he smiled upon the side; And he is away to the West again As fast as he may ride. 27

And when he came to his own palace To sit in the Bishop's hall, He summoned to him an hundred priests And called his tenants all. 'Three days the King has granted us To hew what wood we may. Tomorrow we leave for the royal Chace Before the dawn of day! 'Go rouse your friends, good neighbours all, Go rouse them every one, And bid them meet and greet us there At the rising of the sun. 'For whoso comes to the Church's aid Shall be pardoned for all his pain; But whoso stays to his own labour No blessing shall he gain. 'And hearken now: both stick and bough Shall he on the forest paths For all who come to bear them home To feed their winter hearths.' Next day they came to Dorbury Chace With a hundred men beside, From far and near, with rope and gear And axes true and tried. The Bishop chose the fairest oaks Of all those forest trees. 'By Peter's shrine, this mark is mine— In God's name claim I these!' 28

His axemen stood in the leafy wood, They made the forest ring, And oaktrees all as fast did fall As corn at harvesting. 'Now who shall stay to cut?' they asked, 'And who away shall come? For half may lop the branches off, And half may bear them home.' 'Nay, let them bide!' the Bishop cried, And held his sides for laughter. 'The word says felled in three full days: Let hauling follow after!' With strength renewed, they hacked and hewed Till ne'er an oak did stand; And they builded a church on Dorbury Meads, The fairest in the land. Now when they told the King of this, He frowned, and then did smile. 'Now who would have thought my little Bishop To be so full of guile! 'But I forgive the holy man, If the church is builded well, That St Peter may my sins forgive And save my soul from Hell. 'But if that Bishop comes again To seek our royal grace, He'll get but a twig and a sparrow's egg From out of Dorbury Chace!' 29

Stone-Carver THIRTEENTH CENTURY

T

HESE carvings between cloister and chapterhouse?—when were they started? You might ask when a flower started, the beginnings Of a song or a marriage. Was it the first note struck, And the last dragging word at the nuptial supper? Or should we return to the singer's earliest ballad— Lute-strings answering his mood at their own playing?— A glance across the rose-hedge in an evening garden? Before that, surely, to the child's solitary chanting, The first propensity for love in the apprentice heart.

And so with sculpture: it is less creation Than a reassembling of the before-created, a melting Down of memories in the unpredictable instant When some spark, through the unguarded senses, catches The mind alight, and all is a chaos of seething Impressions, which the artist's concentration moulds Before the whole mass hardens. Yet the spark itself Is the only new element—that is the yeast Which sets the flat dough rising. These carvings then: to find their source I'd need to wander through a labyrinth of beginnings Each leading to an earlier recollection. But take what seems the first path first: Henry Falcon. He was the Master Mason When our Cathedral was building. After my father took me And signed my bonds, Falcon set me working In the long penthouse behind the eastern end. For five years I breathed stone-dust, 30

Shuffled in stone-dust, carrying squares and templates From draughting-board to work-bench; checking tools And counting them at night-fall—mallets, stone-saws, Drills and chisels; hauling the chain-tackle To raise the tremendous blocks, or greasing boards That slid them to the next workman. Then I learned To use these tools myself, how to dress the stone And polish to mirrors the shafts of Purbeck marble That rose in clusters round the white columns; How to cut the rough cone that formed the capitals For some carver to fashion into leaf or cornsheaf, Or a monk with tooth-ache. At once I knew: 'This— This is my work—and nothing in the world else!' Well, that was one beginning. I became a lover— That's the only way to work—yes, and a jealous one, Hating to see the virgin stone violated By other hands—by men whose only ambition Was to copy and re-copy the patterns they had seen In their 'prentice days, with no spark of themselves added, No observation.—Men who had never watched a hedgehog Shamble pathetically across a lane, cutting one In stone, and thinking (if they thought at all) that theirs Was its equal. Why, those were not births of art, But the monsters of in-breeding. 'When I'm a sculptor,' I told myself, I'll not attempt to carve The block into a rose. I'll let the flower Blossom from the stone.' So at the next stage In the Master's workshop, studying geometry and drawing, Preparing designs, and working at cones myself Under his direction, I tried to combine the formal With the actual—to see each separate pattern Part of the building, yet part of nature too; So that a crouching rabbit, that lent its ears To the curve from pier to arch, at the same wild moment Heard the squared reapers closing in. ... 3i

Words on my ears like blows.—Falcon Stopped at my bench, rebuked me, and walked on. But later, when the others left, returning moodily He looked again—more at myself, I think, Than at my rabbit—questioned me kindly, and my thoughts, Dammed for so long by my inward brooding, Came flooding out. He said little then, but afterwards He halted often, suggesting more moulding here, Less undercutting there, criticising my work Less for its nonconformity to the teacher's rules Than to my own ideals. Sometimes I'd think: 'The Chapter-house and the Cloister-passage—suppose When their turn comes—suppose. . . .' If asked a motif, What would I choose? Then—my next beginning— In a cornfield one afternoon, watching the poppies As they swayed in the harvest breeze, a peasant stopped me. We talked of corn and poppies, and she told me, Learning my trade, she hated the Cathedral—guess!— For the million buttercups it blotted out. . . . Yes, you may laugh and think her mad, but to me That meeting was revelation, an act of God. There was my motif—gildcup petals opening To the sun. The Church would repay her stolen flowers With my perennials! That night, the Master Called me at candlelight—sharp-featured, billed Like a falcon—studied me as one unknown, and then: 'I'm sending you to RJieims. A new spirit is alive In Europe. Men are looking now past Universals To the nature of the individual. Philosophy Moves that way, and art will follow. It's a conception I understand, but cannot rise to in my work. To you, as your face reveals, the theory's nothing, 32

But already, unless I'm much mistaken, your eyes And hands know it. Go to Rlieims. Go with clean vellum and a clear mind. See and draw. But mostly feel. Yes, And laugh a little: get buoyancy, gaiety Behind your chisel. Go to France and find it.' And there at Rheims, on the wall of the West Front Above John Baptist, I saw my buttercups Clustered like lilies on a pona, and behind him An exquisite panel of their leaves. At first, wonder; Then respect for craft; finally despair. For all my aspirations were figured there— What was there left to do? I made my drawings, And travelled to Chartres and the Sainte Chapelle. Everywhere, in the new work, the same story: Oakleaves, vineleaves, leaves of every sort Carved with the same assurance, the same perfection Of insight, as if the very world were created new, For us, the first Adam, to see and marvel at. Even twilight songs I heard in the vineyards, In the cornfields of Provence, held this joyousness, This life-wonder. Yes, one I remember: Buds break and birds are singing, Gildcups shine in the green grass; In watermeadows, where larks are winging, I sigh to see my Lady pass.

Who could be young and hear such songs in the springtime And not be happy? So, under their influence, My despair faded. Though ambition was killed, Life was alive here—and I lived and drew. But as my notebook and my roll of drawings fattened, Till I'd tossed all else from my pack, I began to notice The differences within their unity. The individual hand That carved the leaves added some fragment of itself, Cc 33

The craftsman's signature. Then gradually I realised That art can never end—not while the Creator Shapes every creature new, and gives new eyes To each beholder. Now, my mission ended, I stood on the shores of France; and across the waves Saw the half-formed Cathedral on the clouds. My beginnings were over. Now I could begin.

Gargoyles

C

ROUCH we and leer from our quoin of the guttering, And rain in our jowls goes a-gurgling and spluttering.

'Splodge be my name!'—'Splurge be mine!'— Thus we squat, come foul, come fine. Drought in the city, drought on the plain: Dry lips gaping, we thirst for rain. 'Splurge, be watching?'—'Splodge, be hearkening?'— 'Thunder are rolling'—'Clouds do be darkening.' First but a licking, a spitding, a tickling, Then on to our gums the rain comes trickling. 'Splodge, be gladsome?'—'Ay, that I be: Sky-water, Splurge, be the dose for we!' Down they roof and along them spout, Sliding and streaming it oozes out. Hark on the leads to the pitter-patter Where a million cloud-drops spill and spatter! 34

And as on our backs the floods be a-dashing, Our mouth-jets into the earth go splashing. 'Storm do be heavier!'—'Stream do be stronger!'Our chops get fuller and our squirt gets longer! And ah, what joy! and oh, what wonder! To spit on the church-men scattering under! Dean and canons go scampering by, Sheltering pates from the leaking sky; But Splodge and Splurge have nought to fear— High hob-goblins what hob-nob here!

Wandering Scholars

H

ERE to your church we've come— Scholars of Christendom

From Gascony, Normandy, Brittany, Lombardy, Ireland and Italy, Tuscany, Sicily— To match you in rhetoric, Wenching or Arabic !— Quoting from Sophocles, Plato and Socrates, Proving erroneous Much of Plutonius, 35

Mixing theology, Wine and philology, Letting Divinity Hoodwink virginity, Repeating the triple-kissed Words of the Lutanist: Life's a short journey; Life is a flower That wakes with the morning And dies with the hour. Dry-as-dust scholarship Not for this fellowship! Down with all masters who Think the bare bones will do! We want the blood of it, The pulse and the flood of it: Not pluses and minuses To say who Aquinas is! Words from the mind alone Like leaves to the wind are blown: Heart with the head must lie, Each in the other die, Ere lean Philosophy Begets Truth or Poetry. 36

Out from the scholars' tomb! Follow the man in whom Pagan and Christian meet— He of the Paraclete! Ah, God in his mercy guard The soul of Pierre Abelard, Bring him, with words like these, Home to his Heloise: Life is a blossom, A flower in the sun. Oh, take the bee now Ere the summer is done. Victim of treachery After sweet lechery, Still for the truth he went, Virile in argument. Men deemed it privilege To come to his hermitage, And though the fields swallowed him, All Paris followed him! So to your church we come, Scholars of Christendom, To debate with the best of you, Love with the rest of you, Singing the night away With carol and roundelay, 37

And all the delights that bring Solace to wandering: Life is a flower That leaves us behind; It falls like a petal, A leaf in the wind.

Crusader THIRTEENTH CENTURY The Voices Cathedral Guide William Longespee the Second His father, the first Earl His mother, the Countess Ela His standard-bearer, Robert de Vere Robert of Artois, brother to Louis of France William de Sonnac, Master of the Templars. GUIDE:

ow this tomb, which is almost unique, N Is that of William Longespee the Second, Son of the Earl whose assumed grave

We have just inspected . . . FIRST EARL:

Half-brother to the King, Sheriff of this County, Lieutenant of Gascony, Flos Comitum!

38

GUIDE: .. . Not strictly his tomb, Because the man died, or more correctly Was killed, in the year twelve-fifty Or thereabouts, in Syria, and was buried If buried at all, in the church at Acre, The Church of the Holy Cross. . . LONGESP&3:

He ceased To breathe and be: the sword-stroke Knew its mind. Cleaving the mail Like so much lace-work, despite the chainhood Wimpling my neck, it pierced my throat At the arm's juncture. Ah, instantly For doom I knew it—clutched my pommelRose rigidly in saddle—saw Far below, on his dream-horse, a man Crying as he fell: 'Too soon! Nay, God—too soon!' Grossly mistaken. Late enough In his fate's reckoning. STANDARD BEARER:

Two hundred knights Rode with him—I, Robert de Vere, Bearing the arms of England and Anjou. After the Bishop's blessing at the altar, We'd sailed for Egypt, answering the call Of Louis, Saint of France. Courteously He received us, and graciously, as befitted A King's nephew. But his brother there, The Devil's bastard, Robert of Artois, He from the first, with his French arrogance, Sought to embroil us, mocking my lord, 39

Dubbing him 'Long-tail'—ay, and ourselves 'The long-tailed English'. He, Longespee, Forbearing to quarrel, swore in truth He would not be deterred from pagan foe By Christian braggart. Still they taunted us, And many a time, though his hand itched, He held his counsel. So campaigned together These friends most deadly. At Mansurat —While Artois halted, his armies useless— We routed caravans, taking their gold And spice and other plunder, which Artois, Ever with the ear of the French King, Afterwards seized. We had slain them gladly, These mincing thieves with their brave manners, But my lord forebade. 'Nay,' said he, 'It is not our King's purpose.' But then, Fearless yet without anger, to their King He spoke, and in these words rebuked him: LONGESPEE: If thou, sire, canst not urge thy knights To Christian humility nor pagan valour, Saint thou mayst be, but King Assuredly thou art not. STANDARD-BEARER:

At this, Such was his mien, though many rose, None dared to touch him. We passed Out of the King's tent, and towards Syria Rode with our English host. Later We returned, Louis having for service William de Sonnac, an honest man, He who was then Master of Templars And of all knights first in Christendom. Artois greeted us: 40

ARTOIS :

Ah, I see, The English have returned, given new heart By Sonnac's reinforcements!

DE SONNAC: They acquitted themselves Valiantly, and their presence here Is now most welcome. The infidels are there, See!—gathered in the Nile's arms. Louis, our brother, having crossed the river, Will join us here. Let us wait his coming.

LONGESPEE: Such is my counsel, too. If we wait Success is certain. ARTOIS :

The only glory Lies in uncertainty—wrestling nobly And conquering against odds. I see: The English are afraid.

LONGESPEE:

This is too much!

DE SONNAC:

Peace, my Lord, he is not worth Your anger. Think. Do not sacrifice To cheap taunts the cause of Christendom. ARTOIS : The long-tailed English are afraid. 4i

LONGESP£E:

By Christ! I have stood enough. I tell you, Artois— I will ride this day where not you, No, nor your damned Frenchmen, the dregs Of chivalry, will dare draw level With my horse's tail!

STANDARD-BEARER:

So saying, He turned, motioning to hold aloft The Lion-banner. With a great cry The English mounted, formed their lines, And following, set spur to flank. Horses' wild eyes, sunflash On shields, cries, hooves' thunder— And into the shrieking enemies of Christ We hurled ourselves!

COUNTESS ELA:

I, at that instant, Seated with my nuns in the high Choir, Saw his shield on the stalls before me— Six lions blazing in the sunlight— And he, my son, in full armour, I saw him raised into the courts of Heaven With bands of angels on either hand.

GUIDE:

. . . And as I was saying, The design of this effigy is noteworthy, One of the finest examples of its kind. Notice the surcoat with its long folds; And under it the elaborate chain-armour— Literally 'from top to toe'. Also the legs Crossed at the knees. So much for that. Now in the next arcade. . . . 42

Wood-Carver THIRTEENTH CENTURY '"\7"ou carve the misericords—you and John.

1 One aside, from this end, and pace each other.'— That's what the Master said.—'Not race, mind you. Take your time and give the best that's in you.' 'What's the theme, sir?'—'Noah and the Ark.' The Ark, I thought. Well, that suits me, I reckon: All the animals in creation and a few outside it. No tearing the hair and wondering what to chip. We'll start our menagerie here by the Choir gangway, March 'em down two-by-two, and next year Bring them to their Ararat under the East Window. . . . 'Remember the window-lighting—its effect on contours.' *Ay, sir—we will that, and thank you, sir.' 'Why ''misericords"?' asked John, puzzled, After the Master left. 'Why not?' I told him, 'They'll cause us misery enough before we've finished. Come on—stop gawping, and hunt the brutes!' So around the Choir we went, squatting and squinting, Turning this way and that, with head on one side Like a robin or a wry-necked zany in the porch, Grovelling on all fours like beasts ourselves, To study shapes, the run of the grain, and see Noah's family arked in the rough wood Waiting for us to carve them out again.— Like the story they tell in Wales, of a spirit prisoned For centuries in the tight bole of an oak Till some magician, unsaying the spell, released him. Next day we started sketching them in charcoal, Wrist-strokes following the line of the tree. Then, working swiftly with our largest gouges, We roughed out masses to get a broad effect. 43

Later chisel and mallet to pare these down And feel the strength of shadow, with figures hovering In the wood, the magician's spell half-said. And last of all, using our lightest mallets Or pushing with palm of hand, we freed them, Acting as midwife to each new birth.— Yet not wholly free, for we kept a connection With the seat itself, a sort of navel-cord Binding it to the mother tree; so that watching That blundering horde of beasts, however varied, You see them all belonging to a single breed: Bastards who know their common parent—wood. Holy Mary! but what a brood they are! Bears, gryphons, leopards and unicorns— Every animal under the sun or moon— Loping eastward before the first rain falls: Some with their eye over a troubled shoulder, Fearful lest one panting from the stall behind Outdistance them—though he won't, God willing, Not in a thousand years.—One hound, carefree, Stopping to mate by the way, a monstrous joy On his snout; and a fox, hen in mouth, Bringing his larder with him—one the less For Noah's tally! ... So we went on, Old John and me, coming across at meal-breaks To see the other's work, joking about it, Complaining of the length of a faun's tail, Or the way a hind leg bent in running. But knowing in our hearts, as the Master did, We matched each other.—Ay, and knowing too Had his been poorer work, our own had suffered. Summer and winter passed: sunlight, snowlight. And all was done—all save the two legged Fussing and quarrelling around the Ark itself. 44

Now they are here. Ham, Shem and Japhet Argue as to a cubit's length, plane planks And drive in pegs. Their three wives, Counting fruit and flour-sacks with Mrs Noah, Bicker about their quarters, hold noses And point distastefully at the gibbering monkeys. Noah, disquieted, doubting a quiet voyage, Stands apart, a choir-stall to himself. His eyes Search the sunrise. Rainwind ruffles his hair. One gnarled hand, to comfort him, Caresses the soft dove. Our mates and wives Have taken turns as models—though they may not know it. And Noah? Who but the old Bishop himself, No chin worth chiselling and the longest nose in Christendom! Today, the first of Spring, he came to see them. Blackthorns were breaking in the fields outside And birds clamorous with their own building As the Master brought him. He smiled indulgently At our cheerful monsters; smiled slyly at Japhet Posing there with the Master's very stance And the Master's angry frown when measuring. 'That face is familiar,' he said, Vaguely familiar. I guess he keeps order among his lesser brethren/ And chuckled softly. But at Father Noah He shook his head. 'Ah no; not quite, Not quite. A thinker—administrator perhaps— But not the religious type. Would Almighty God Trouble to save him from a watery end? I doubt it. I very much doubt it. Ah, never mind: the rest redeem him. I do congratulate you. The finest beasts This side of Creation—and, in my opinion, Infinitely preferable to those at York.'

45

Corpus Christi Play THIRTEENTH CENTURY (Directions to Players)

A

PARADISE is to be built on a raised platform Before the West Door, with curtains of silk Beneath it. Fragrant flowers and leaves May be set closely therein, and divers trees Laden with hanging fruit, all giving likeness To a most delicate garden. Then from the Cathedral Shall the Saviour come, crossing the greensward. Now let Adam and Eve be brought to the Figure And stand before him, reverend, yet composed in countenance, While he instructs them in their several duties And leads them to Paradise. . . . When he hath gone, And they in the orchard of Paradise walk in delight, Let demons run about the stage invisible, Making suitable gestures, motioning to the fruit. Then cometh the Devil in person to dispute with Adam, But he, remembering his Creator, rebuketh him. Whereat the Devil, much put out of countenance, With downcast gaze going to the mouth of Hell, Holds earnest council with his fellow demons How to gain power over the man and the woman. Then shall he make a sally amongst the beholders, And return from the other side, approaching Eve. By the tree he shall converse with her, subtle, Insinuating, promising all manner delight. At first she refuseth him, but from the tree's trunk Shall rise a Serpent most cunningly contrived, Who breathing in her ear shall melt her will. She taketh the apple now. She giveth it to Adam, Who eateth part thereof, and straightway repenteth. He abaseth himself, and putting on solemn raiment, 46

(Let it be poor apparel sewn of fig-leaves), With an air of dolour falleth to lamentation. Again from the Cathedral let the Figure come, Pacing and majestic.... At his command An Angel appeareth, bearing a flaming sword, Who, when they have departed, guardeth the gate. Eve shall take her a hoe, and Adam a spade, And together they shall make to till and sow; But let the Devil arising plant thorn and thistle, So that they, seeing the fruits of their labour, May be smitten with grief and loudly beat their breasts. Then let the Devil, with four demons, Put fetters and chains about their feet and necks And draw them Hellwards. From the fiery mouth Bring forth other demons for high revel. Now shall Eve and Adam be seized with roughness And cast into Hell's Mouth. Let those behind Cause a great smoke to arise, and call aloud, And clash their pots and kettles, while other devils Shall hold the stage and dance upon their toes/

Martyr

N

o, do not pity me. It came swiftly To my very altar—not lingering death From age or fever, when gross indignities Of body debilitate the mind, and the spirit's passion Dwindles to a creed, or to petulant fumbling Of rosaries between the fingers.—I, When fully I, saw Death before me, And grasping his sword between my two hands Drew it towards my heart. Nor call it sacrifice. I willed the event 47

Deliberately as I ruled my people here And half this kingdom. The great administrator Ordered his end—and like a palace servant Death must obey him. For this martyrdom Was my spirit's consummation. Through my life That was my guiding star. All else— Men's wishes, reason, my own comfort And promptings of the flesh, even ambition, Were bent to that purpose, and if they resisted Broken. . . . Was that sacrifice? Was Christ's, my master's, when he journeyed Through prophecies to his tree, and he himself Did all but drive the nails? If that is sacrifice, it is a free offering Of man on his own soul's altar; Losing for gain; giving the world for heaven, Time for Eternity. . . . What merit, Exchanging for a gold crown a copper farthing? So do not worship me, seeking my shrine Of jewels and silver, wearing the steps away With suppliant knee. All these will pass Like dew before the sun. There is only one Merits your worship—he who forged the world Under its canopy of stars—only he Worthy of worship. I, for all my will, For all the power, ruthlessness and adulation Am but a drop in that vast and shoreless sea.

Spire-Builder FOURTEENTH CENTURY

A

r the angle of the Bishop's palace, Where the yew-tree throws its shade 48

And autumn needles on the grass, I stood transfixed, As a saint, heart-stopped, Might listen to the voice of God, For there, in my mind's vision (Though clear as truth it cut The sky above the meadows) I saw it.. .. The spire!

DC

Five years, as master-mason, I had lived with the Cathedral, Known its moods, as a countryman The seasons, felt its presence A living thing; as a child To its mother is a warm life, A thing that breathes and grows. I came, too, to experience The creative mind within, That which a century before Conceived and fashioned it. Guarding the stone, watchful For decay or subsidence, I learned to know his mind, Followed it through the act of BecomingAs when, in the great moments Of any art (listening To music, perhaps, or poetry) The interpreter becomes the artist, And we feel upon our own flesh The shiver of creation. So I followed him. But the end, When I reached there, was not The end; the Cathedral was unfinished. Seeing it from the North East— Its massing, the magnificent grouping Of transepts and Lady Chapel— 49

Kindled one's expectation Only to disappoint: A low central tower As squat as Westminster's— The church flattening the meadows Instead of rising from them— The pinnacles crying for a spire To cap them. In my imagination A hundred lifted to the sun And were demolished. And then, As I have told you, I saw it. As though he, not I, were standing there I saw it—and I knew. How to build it, that Was the problem, how to support On four delicate piers Of Chilmark stone with their flutings Of Purbeck marble, that spire (Six thousand tons in weight) Which in his dreams and mine Rose with such sureness to the clouds? All my training declared Against it; Canons came And wagged their tonsures at me; And I watched, in sleepless nights, My reputation topple.. . . Then I began to build. Buttresses I set flying From the four angles of the tower To take the colossal out-thrust; The spire casing I pared To nine inches. And at her apex, Nearest to heaven and the winds, We placed in a relic box A fragment of St Peter's robe. And finally, though it seemed mistrustful 50

Of the saint's protection, we left Inside the cone, the framework Standing, the crisscross scaffolding Of seasoned oak. Then If the impossible occurred, and the spire In her precarious beauty survived The centuries that stormed about her, That would be miracle enough! Often, on summer evenings, (In my autumn days) I stand By this yew-tree, and see my vision Made permanent on the sky, Her living grey a foil To every light that comes. As I watch, And she stirs and rises from the meadows As a spirit rises, moving To the background of moving clouds, My love goes out to her, And all my evening prayers.

The People THIRTEENTH-FOURTEENTH CENTURIES

W

E, too, the people of England, Have built this Cathedral—men and women Who know little of the making of beauty But who, when beauty comes, can feel Its presence—can find in their troubled lives An anchorage, a haven, a calm assurance Of something greater and beyond themselves Which, though they die, survives. 5i

*The Peasant toiling on his fifteen acres, Ploughing, sowing, harrowing, reaping; Labouring three days for the manor-lord With boon-work at harvest. *His Wife, Who rears in the same hovel his hens and his children, Cards and spins for the lord's steward And sells her eggs at the Thursday market. ^Fishermen from villages of the South West, Smoothing into port after the churning and blustering Sea, dragging their catch up the beach And spreading nets on the dry rocks. *Manor Lady, discussing with her sempstress The fashionable gown-length, and whether One shield or two should be embroidered on the shoulder. *'Yes, to compass men's praise You spend much labour on your apparel, Your veils and your kirdes. Indeed, the making Is more costly than the cloth itself, With your tucks and flouncings around the hem. Not only do you take pride in your buttonholes: You plague your feet with exquisite torments, Trotting this way and that with your fine stitching. You busy yourself with unnecessary veils— You twitch them here and twitch them there, And even as you pretend to listen to my sermon Your thoughts are on the new hairstyle.' *The Baker, who bakes his customers' flour And removes two ounces in every twelve Under their very noses. *'Here he comes now, Dragged through the streets on a bouncing hurdle As a remembrancer to the trade!' *Fairweather sailor, Horse dealer, horse-stealer, Roaring like a sea-lion at Dorbury Fair, Jostling and badgering with his pedigree words. He steers through the crowd his nags and colts, Packhorses and carthorses, keeping to windward *A different voice takes up. 52

The blind eye and the spavined flank. *City Merchant, displaying in his shop Fruits from the Levant, silks from Damascus, Drugs and spices from Alexandria, Brought by armed galley through Genoa And the ports of Venice. * Schoolboys Loosed like arrows on holy-days, Giving to football, wrestling, cock-throwing A devotion seldom accorded to their Latin.— *'Now if you please, lads—outside, No games allowed in the Cathedral Close, Plenty of fields beyond/ *—homing Like cattle at feeding-time, falling to bed With full bellies and a sleep without conscience. ^Merchant's Wife, bustling about her kitchen Preparing conserves and sweetmeats, tending Her herb-garden, and making sweet concoctions Of scented flower-water. * Wise-Woman Who lives at the last cottage on the Plain. She, also, has an interest in herbs. She brews them into the most potent remedies Against scurvy, empetigo and love-sickness, Or with equal ease and efficiency Creates these disorders where they do not exist, For a hard word spoken or a contemptuous glance, And helps your cattle to wither in their stalls. *Archers practising for the Welsh campaign Under the yew-trees in Dorbury Close. 'Draw to ear!—mark!—release!'— The target pierced at two hundred paces. *The Chapman, trudging country lanes, With an old horse that halts before each village To pluck at the thick, lush grasses While his master eases and evens the pack-weight And blows dust from shoulder-trays. *'Come! buy! Ribbons and purses, * A different voice takes up. 53

Keen knives, scarves and kerchiefs, Buckles and trinkets-O! Come buy!' * Masters, journeymen and seven-year 'prentices, Following their crafts in gold and silver, Steel-work, leather-work—maintaining the honour Of their guilds.—Some rising to Aldermen, Strutting majestically in scarlet processions, Stretching majestically on tombs. All these, thronging the Western shires, Have built the Cathedral—from guild-merchant In eager counting-house to the widow Clutching her lonely penny. These, Working and giving, though giving reluctantly Or with the wrong motive, have built this Cathedral. Their thoughts and hopes have fed its walls, Impregnated the stone, are part Of its atmosphere. Though dead, long Dead, we still survive, one With its continuity, the common heritage.

Vespers FOURTEENTH CENTURY

S

o vast a gloom in the vast Cathedral As night falls, the December night. Slowly, inevitably, it unbuilds The Cathedral. Already the vaulted roof Has gone, the leaning Angel with her trumpet Of triumphant gold. Carvings on capitals Sink back into the crude stone. * A different voice takes up.

54

Broken columns rise from shadow Into shadow. Night covers The stretched and bloodless windows with a pall Of dusk. One flame, trembling At the end of the long riding, burns Like a cottager's lamp between shafts of trees. For the shadows are a wood's shadows, when clouds Have curtained the moon. . . . High in the gloom a bell rings, Gabriel, the storm-bell—so clear Through the thick of night, the note shivers In that great room, as if the darkness knew The threatened music of the bells would sound Its doom. Another, another joins it: Margaret, high and sweet, like morning, Like a morning in May. Now from the shadows Figures loom, bearing the light And smell of tapers. One by one, At the high altar, shine wavering Stars, and round the Martyr's tomb. James, John and Michael add To the bells' clamour. Columns return With their smooth Purbeck stems, with opening Leaf and flower, while candles bloom At fifteen altars. The procession forms. Then Peter, in his tower, booms out His message to the world, and all the bells With a last thunderous clapping proclaim The death of Night. The procession moves. And the choir, the golden Angel in the roof— Ave, rex gentis Anglorum—

Take up the luminous theme of light.

55

Pilgrim FOURTEENTH CENTURY

F

RO wyf and lond, withouten moore abood, On a May morwe to Dorbury I rood, That by the chirche's seint, Peter of Rome, I myghte fynde conforte in my herte's home. I sette my hors, as soon as sonne gan shyne, Thrugh lanes of hawethorn and of eglentyne, But tho it happed ful twentie yeares behynd, The synne I bore lay heavie on my mynd, Soe that ne bud ne blossyme did I see Of alle the floures that bursten on the tree. For two long deyes its ymage did me keepe, And thrugh the nyght it prisounded me fro slepe. Thanne on the evenyng of the secound deye I met a band of pylgrimes by the weye, Who laughed and talked and jangled on the reyne As if they rood for plesaunce, not for peyne. They toulde of robberes hidyng in the woode To lighten traveleres of purs and blud, And of thir felawshipe invited mee To take my journie in thir campaygnie. Mo to escape the thoghtes in my head Thanne theves in woode, I ventured as they seyd. I laughed with hem and toulde hem merye tales Of poets, lovyeres, nyghts and nyghtyngales, Till you hadde thoghte that in the worlde* wyde Ne wyght mo gaie ne shriven e'er did ryde; And atte taverne where we took oure reste, I fel to bedde and snoren with the beste. Thereafter did swich tapestries unfolde Of orchard, forest and the oupen wolde, 56

Thatte as I ronge the brydel, laught and spoke, I felt my yeeres downfallen lyk a cloke. Meseemed the same man, yonge and prosperynge, Who first that weye hadde wenden in the sprynge. Soe rood we ful fyve deyes, til sodeynly We saugh far offe the toure of Dorbury Uprysyng lyk a speare. It strooke my herte. My soules lyf was wounden with the smerte. I hadde ne wordes mo. They seyd farewel And went hir weyes with freende or hooste to dwel, Swearing, with Goddes blessyng on hir steye, To meet ageyn upon the homeward weye. But I, allone as born, within the gate Tethered my hors for all that it was late, And, as he cropped at the grasses tall, Stoode stil as any shadowe by the walle; Until I heard Great Peter in his toure Shake all the nyght with telling of the houre, Lyke drum of doome. Thanne soghte I out the doore Wherein I entered twentie yeeres before. 'Long since,' one answered mee, 'she went fro heere. A child she bore. It dyed within the yeere.' 'And Goddes will it were/ another seyd; 'Ne housbonde refte her of hir maydenhed. She went into the Convent of Seint Clare To take hir vowes and mak atonement ther. But if content, good sir, with swich a thyng, We are ryght glad to give you harberyng.' That nyght within the roome where we had leyd I lay ageyn, and long and long I preyed. But of soccour and tendres had I nonne, Nor slepe came never til the risyng sonne. My hors I fed, and whenas Prime was songe To the Cathedral chirche I took my wronge. 57

At chancel arch I made confessioune, And by the preste hadde absolutioune. Thanne knelt I by the shrine where Peter's boune Of litel finger lyeth on the stoune, And preyed the seint that as he was forgiven His Lorde denying, so myght I be shriven. Whan I had doone, and thoghte my synne had dyed, I met her eyen by the auter syde. Knelyng she was, hir wympul whyt and longe, And rounde hir nek a crucyfysse y-honge Of Jhesu Crist his ende. Fro chin to brow Onlie hir eyen showed. That were enow, Sin that they looked as they did pitie mee For hir deare Meister's sake. Thanne sodeynly They sterte with feare. Turning on a breath I see hir broother, that had sworne my deathe, Upstanding by the walle. I fynd my feet. Swiftly along the cloisters to the street I mak my weye; but ere the doore I win Am held by presse of pilgrymes comyng in. I feel his hate behynd. A sodeyn smerte, And I have dropped, a daggere thurgh my herte. Soe, in some planne, by Goddes seint y-roghte, I founde my peace, but in a different sort.

Travelling Preacher BYSTANDER:

M

ARK that mock-priest, That wandering monk, who Dressed in his friar's habit Of brown, road-rusted, Tonsured and dusty-headed, 58

Mounts his two-shilling mare To travel the lanes of England With neither paper nor parish, Nor license from the Pope— Tethering now by that tree As though at the world's gate. See how they flock to his words Like gulls to winter crumbs, Pouring through cloisters from Mass To gawp at this tousled prophet, This uncelled, prowling humbug, This holy nothing. Say, Does duty draw them, Subtle exposition of Scripture? Or gossip from foreign parts, Morsels of murder? Listen! He comes spreading slander, Engendering discord, dissention, Exciting peasants' revolt Under cloak of religious truth. Sheriff's and king's men, Showing more diligence, Should grant him a civic cell, Rat's room and fetters. PREACHER: . . . And so, in the beginning of the world, were neither Fine clothes nor mighty buildings, Yet God was there, even in the garden: His sun shone equally on all creation. ' When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman?9 And who the prelate in rich attire Eating magnificently the labour of others, Returning but a few poor chants And lighted candles? Did our Lord, 59

The Lord of Heaven, do such things? When he set his disciples upon their road To wander as I do, did he not tell them To take no purse, not even a staff For the journey, trusting their Father To know their needs, like birds of the air Or flowers of the field? Yet these his friends Were called as equals to the throne of Heaven. Good people: know your worth. Our Lord has named you Children of God As you do his bidding. In his eyes Are neither serfs nor masters, and I say: England shall not be worthy of his love Till this bondage is ended, till all possessions Are shared for the common good, like Adam's In Eden, in the springtime of the world.

BYSTANDER: What? Shall the scoundrel yelp In our very cloisters? Offer Blasphemy as grace to Mass? If Church will not chain him, City Should seize the dog.—Ay, Drag him to jail, I say, Scourge like a truant monk.

The Devil

I

N that same year came the Devil to Dorbury In the guise of a young priest. He caused much mischief in the refectory, Where platters flew like birds through the window And oysters descended on my Lord's head To his great discomfiture. In the wine-vaults Bungs were removed from my Lord's casks 60

In a sad waste of liquor. Yet, It was noted that this young priest himself Did neither drink, nor eat, nor sleep, Which all men marvelled at. At length, suspecting his strange guest To be some demon in human form, My Lord commanded him to be seized And his holy garments taken from him. This was performed in the north transept At Lammastide, by three stout men, Yet only with great labour did they master him, And hold him fast to the Bishop's will. Then, stripped of his frock and most hairy, He vanished like smoke from between their hands.

Sanctuary FOURTEENTH CENTURY

B

Y Scanton Market Cross We each saw each together. He drove his spur to flank, I broke my horse from tether.

Though he led by a thousand yards, I swore there'd be no escaping. Dust of seven hamlets We stirred, with the peasants gaping. Farms once left behind, The pace of our horses quickened: Over the Great Plain We rode as the dusk thickened. Two, on that vast waste, Down a road that was white and narrow, 61

Raced till there rose before us A spire like a shafted arrow. Torchlight, we reached the City: Our hooves on the streets rang hollow. He left his horse at the gate, I leapt from mine to follow. We crossed the darkened Close, Our spurs on the path clattering. Torches thrust in our face— Priests staring and chattering. One barred our way, Rebuked us before the Lord— He for unseemly haste, I for my drawn sword. 'Sanctuary!' he cried gasping, And fell in the Choir entry. The monk gripping my arm Stood his ground like a sentry. I sheathed my sword at his bidding, Removed my cap at another's, And panting lay in the Porch Till they fetched their learned brothers. Thus they agreed: the Chapter, While he skulked at the High Altar, Would discuss the pros and cons And decide by book and psalter. So, as the talkers talked And the tapers swayed and blurred, Prone by Chapter-house wall I sat in my seat and heard: 62

FIRST CANON

Brothers in Christ! The matter we discuss, that warrants our prayerful attention, Is no less than a consideration of terms of sanctuary. But before we give our thoughts to the case before us, Let us remind ourselves of its place in history. Sanctuary is not exclusively a Christian custom: It was known to pagan Rome, also to the temples Of Greece and Egypt. Its aim, I need hardly remind you, Is not primarily the preservation of life, Worthy though that object may be: its roots go deeper. A man, however dastardly the crime he has committed, Partakes in degree of that holiness wherein he shelters: Consequently an assault on his person must be interpreted As direct and wanton assault on the church itself, And therefore sacrilege. Roman law at first Refused to recognise the Christian claim to sanctuary, But later, towards the end of the fourth century, Accepted it as a privilege of the Church—a ruling Justinian Confirmed, and the Edict of Orleans. In England Its recognition by the Saxon king, Aethelbert, Brought it acceptance in canon law. SECOND CANON

Thank you: An admirable summary of ecclesiastical tradition. It will be observed, however, that even this law Admits of considerable difference of interpretation— Witness the examples quoted by Gregory of Tours. Now on a practical point I ask your guidance: Does Sanctuary extend only to the church door, As is commonly supposed by the vulgar mind, Or fifty paces beyond? FIRST CANON

—Valentinian Decreed it operative even to the outer courtyard— 63

A dispensation provided to ensure that he, The victim, if I may so designate him, might eat And drink, and perform the necessary operations of nature Outside the sacred precincts. THIRD CANON

—Was not that rescinded? It is now recognised, at least by the law of usage— Or perhaps I should say by that of disuetude— That droit d'asile reaches not even to the door But takes effect solely within the walls of the Choir.

FOURTH CANON

In that case, brothers, the condition is now fulfilled; The man concerned is recumbent in the choir stalls, Therefore protected.

FIFTH CANON

—Ah, but protected only If he makes full confession of his crime, obeys The rules of our holy Order, and performs penance Suitably attired.

SIXTH CANON

—Brothers, excuse me— A minor point, no doubt—but is it not obligatory To wear a garment of black cloth, embroidered With a cross on the left shoulder—or possibly on the right, My memory is somewhat faulty on detail now. . . .

SEVENTH CANON

Sackcloth seems more appropriate.

EIGHTH CANON

—Forgive me, brothers, Before we discuss the material in which he shall live or die, Would it not be advisable to consider the classifications 64

Of Sanctuary: conveniently termed General and Chartered? The first, I understand, applies to all churches, And admits, as we have seen, of divergent opinions. The latter is granted by our sovereign Lord To selected bodies, regulating the punishment of felonies And applicable to Treason, both High and Petty. FOURTH CANON

That is indeed most interesting and gratifying. May I ask if our Foundation has been honoured in this manner?

SECOND CANON

At one time this Cathedral was so chartered, but the wording Is highly ambiguous. It reads in this fashion: 'Its employment shall be governed by usage within living memory/ And within living memory—unless my brothers' Extends further than my own—there has been no such usage. Therefore, I assume, as the rights of charter no longer obtain, We must regard this case as belonging to the general category, And base our judgment solely on its merits.. .. When they gave their final word The cocks in the town were waking. 'Grace to the Close wall!'— On the windows dawn was breaking. Loudly abusing their terms I left by the North postern; Piously, in monk's cowl, Returned at night by the Western.

EC

I watched him venture forth, Thinking I ceased to pursue him. In the street where his horse waited I came behind and slew him. 65

Candle Carol For a Children s Procession

T

o this Cathedral Candles we bring To light the way To Christ our King.

Down the long aisles We carry them, Seeking the Inn At Bethlehem. Under the Crossing The crib we find That keeps good people Of Christ in mind. There Our Lady, With cloak of blue, Sits in the stable All night through. There St Joseph Beside her stands, The hem of her mantle Between his hands. There at a hurdle With wisp of grass, The Ox looks over The gentle Ass. 66

And there on bracken Before our eyes, The Lord of Heaven In manger hes. Here will we set Our candles bright, To praise his coming This Christmas night. Long may this church His glory see, And may his blessing Be found by me.

Plague-Pit

U

NDER these living leaves, remember, These green leaves—here beneath The smooth green lid of turf Lies death: Black Death. Ten feet under, fingered by the elmroots, Wide as the lurid mouth of hell Gaped the plague-pit, where they flung More corpses than were men to tell:— Cathedral masons, falling from their ladders As they clutched the unfeeling stone; Housewives at their ovens; merchants In crowded inns; shepherds alone;

6?

Travelling Friars, preaching damnation, Who, halted in mid-sentence, drank Of the silent air; thoughtless farmgirls With cheek along the cow's flank; Children, frozen like legendary children, With half a smile on their lips, or a boast; Priests ordained as the last encumbent Fell at the altar, scattering the Host; Choirboys, their psalms unfinished; Canons*—whether they stayed or fled— Lords, ladies, pages, servants, Beggars and deacons—dead, dead, Dead—dropping like rotten fruit In a neglected orchard, lying Piled up under the trees as they tumbled, In one heap the dead and the dying. Those who trembled behind bolted doors, Or flaunted pageantry and youth and love— All flung naked into the plague-pit Hidden by the dead above. So when, as suddenly, the plague ended, There were in the city left alive Of all who breathed and loved and wept, Only two in everyfive.. . . Cover them over now, roll back The turf whose green life never grieves For darkened history. The past is past. Wake to the present world of leaves.

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The Reliquary FIFTEENTH CENTURY *T^\RUNK, sir? Me? Not a pint I've touched -L' Between sunrise and sundown, St Peter purge me if I tell a he. There!—the sun's in the east window. Still time if you'll follow me— Mind that step in the half-light— And I'll show you thefinestrelinquy . . . Rehnc . . . Mind your head, sir— The finest collection of holy relincs Between Land's End and John o' Gaunt. Here it is, sir. Wait, wait— There's a key on this plumbline cord of mine If I can haul it up. Ah, here it is. This little bawdy key. So !— And the door opens. Look there! Don't touch, sir. 'Kindly requested Not to handle the holy relincs.' Now that splinter, that slithering of wood That looks nothing but a splinter and a slithering, That was chimped from the True Cross By St John himself, and brought to England By Joseph of. . . by St Joseph. Some clericals, sir, have doubted it, But our Bishop, he said: *I declare it A true and authentical holy rehnc.'— Those were his very words. . . . Now, you see that piece of rag there? That was the hair-shirt of poor St Lawrence— Him they took, sir, and toasted on a gridiron, Roasted to a martyred steak. See— 69

The very scorch-marks from the bars. Eh? Why not burned? Because they declared it A most intolerable holy relinc And snatched it from him before they basted him, And that, sir, is a fact. . . . The bone? Something to do with the Ten Thousand Virgins, But what it is I've quite forgotten. I've had no truck with virgins, sir, Not since I became a lay brother. But heres something—that chomping block. John the Baptist—Herod. Look! Still bloodstains down the side. Tilt your head, sir—the light's going. Now you see them. ... I assure you, sir: Most authentical. 'All rehncs here True and authentical in every disrespect.'. . . And cures! Not one of these But owns a miracle, and some a score. It's a crying shame you're not lame, sir; Because if you were halted sick And stuck your legs in these two holes You'd be a new man from this day forth. Many's the pilgrim that's stuck them there And been a new man from that day forth. No matter, time will tell. An Inn, sir? The Golden Lion— That's well spoken of, by those who speak well. The Bull takes the singing pilgrims Who can't hold their liquor. Get there By nightfall. There's a man by the north gate Who'd split your skull for the groat in your purse. Money's a great provoker. Thank you. Thank you, sir. Most acceptable: It's sundown, as you say.'

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The Clock FIFTEENTH CENTURY

T

wo steeds, two riders, stand at gaze: They stand as Mordred stood Bewitched, enchanted, held in thrall In Merlin's magic wood. Grey or black each halted steed, With grave, half-lifted head: One is trapped in cloth-of-gold, One in green and red. Their riders wait with spears at rest; Entranced, each faces other. Helm and hauberk make them kin; They might be man and brother. Neither horse his bridle stirs, Nor rider stirs his hand. For sixty minutes by the clock They haunt their timeless land. . . . Wheels rumble; steeds tremble; Then grey horse rears his head To hear the clock with solemn stroke Bury the hour that's dead. Grey knight tilts his lion-shield; Merlin's spell is done. Sharply his lance falls, couched to charge; The herald clock cries 'One'! The joust begins: with clash of steel Black lays his pennoned lance. Gravely, slow, still half in dream, The battled steeds advance. 7i

They charge: Grey fiercely bears him down, But Black his lance has swung. Under his targe, the foeman, struck, Back on his croup is flung. The knight recovers, voids and turns, Spurring his shaken horse. Round the pavilion both appear To try a second course. Again the Grey knight couches lance; Again he charges Black; Again with spear to helm is thrown Full on his horse's back. He rights himself, and hand on rein, Wheels for a third assault; But ere they reach the lists again Their horses tire and halt. The chimes have tolled their count of twelve; Their fading echoes cease. The tourney ends; foes now are friends; The clock has sounded peace. Horses and riders stand at gaze: The magic word is said. Each steed is held with hoof upraised And grave, half-lifted head.

72

Cure-Seller FOURTEENTH CENTURY (Outside the west door) f~** ITIZENS and gentles!—for by your bearing V_> I see there be quality among you— Come! draw near and listen. My words are not to be shouted from the housetops, Neither are they to be overheard by the dull-witted. . . . That is more serviceable. Now, my friends, I am not one of those miserable preachers, Nay, nor one of those wretched herbalists Who stand before this magnificent cathedral With their starved bodies and threadbare cloaks; Who, with their boxes spread upon a carpet, Seek to extract your hard-earned wages. Know you that I am none of that tribe. I am sent here by Madame Trote of Salerno, Who indeed is the wisest woman in the world, A virgin of most profound sagacity. She made me vow solemnly by the saints, Yea, by all the hierarchy of heaven, That I would not depart from this your country Before I had instructed you in the proper cure For worms, scurvy, rheumatism, heartburn And other diseases and ailments of the flesh, That those in England most worthy In the sight of God, might be advantaged By her wisdom. I pray you listen. Take off your caps; give ear, And gather closer. . . . Note these herbs, These few poor herbs upon the palm Of my hand. Nay, sir, do not touch! I would not have you visited by affliction, Slain in the instant with your sins 73

Unshriven! For these herbs, Scarcely larger than a grain of sand, Contain such power, such wonder-working Power—though, I assure you, With the full cognisance of the Blessed MaryThere is no ox of yours, no horse— Nay, not the stoutest charger in the world— But if you placed one such upon his tongue Would die as surely as by the butcher's knife In lingering agony, so potent are they. Come, be not afraid. I tell you: If you follow my instructions to the letter— To the letter, mark you, and waver not— No harm shall come to you. Indeed, I promise you such access of health, Such manifestations of eternal youth, That you will bless the day you hearkened To my instructions. . . . Mark you well. Leave these for three days only To steep in good white wine. If you possess no white, then red, If not red, then clear spring water— For I have noted that many a man Who has no cask of wine in his cellar Doth own a runnel of water by his door. After three days, I say, remove them, Bury them where no child or dog, Nor any creature you cherish may find them, And preserve the liquid in an earthen vessel. Drink from it slowly for thirteen mornings— Thirteen, mark you—and by the fourteenth Your varied maladies will disappear, And what is more—like to myself, My friends—never return again.

74

Princess FIFTEENTH CENTURY

F

ABULOUS tales they told of her beauty— Tales to be spoken by the men of Athens, Halving the fame of Helen. Such beauty, they said, the world had not seen, Not since Guinevere in the courts of Camelot, Or one word uttered by the Queen of Elfland Drew men from English lanes. But she, so beautiful, was dead. They laid her, still young, small-breasted And golden-haired, under stones in the chancel Five centuries ago. They wept, And the weepers passed, and the weepers' children Till all was legend, a misted tale Spun by the troubadour or ballad-singer With gods and unicorns. Then, tonight, her tomb was broken: Lanterns wavering in the darkened Cathedral, Eight men round an open grave. For one instant time revolved— Tintagel and all the towers of Troy! For there, in her wonder, lay the Princess Miraculous in beauty, her face A girl's in golden hair, so beautiful The heart halted; and for that instant A wind from heaven. Then time returned; and as we watched, Like a vision before our eyes her beauty Vanished, face fell to dust, Grey dust. . . . Only Eight standing at an empty grave, And a new legend for the tales of men. 75

Lady Chapel FIFTEENTH CENTURY OWARD thy chapel, Mother of God, Ever for comfort My feet have trod. Maid and Mother, attend me there.

T

Before thine altar With candles tall, I let my cares Like a cloak down-fall. Maid and Mother, my heart prepare. I give thee worship, Mother and Maid; On thy compassion My sins are laid. Maid and Mother, heed my prayer. Maid, I have loved thee Since I was maiden. Now that with child My womb is laden, Mother of Christ, thy daughter spare. Though all unworthy, Maiden Mother, Thy spirit come To protect another, That I, like thee, a son may bear. O grant this gift That hath no price, Mary, Queen Of Paradise, Mother of Heaven, maid most fair! Thy servant kneels at the altar stair. 76

John the Cellarer FIFTEENTH CENTURY

H

E'S a mean one, our Bishop, though it's not My place to be saying so, God help me. Two I've seen throned before, and they feasted us like Princes— Nothing too good for us, and more than we could hold: Calves, cranes and capons, pigeons and plovers, Quail, roebuck, partridges—everything you could wish— Till we felt like so many Jonahs who had swallowed their whales! After three days, more dead than alive—but Jesu, What a death, what a glorious death! Who wouldn't die in defence of a venison pasty, Or be martyred on a peacock's wishbone? But this man (God preserve him) why, the victuals he didn't Order would fill our kitchens for a month. Think of it: Only a hundred barrels of ale between us, Where the last man ordered (God rest his soul) A full three hundred. Five hundred geese To his two thousand. Ducks, nine hundred Against three thousand—and so on, all down the list. Yes, and to make it worse, he's ordered everything Through the Almoner's office, never a word to me. Our late Bishop (may he be numbered among the saints) Talked to me himself. 'Brother John,' he says, Coming close and shouting. 'This enthronement Is likely to be my last'—'Oh, no, your Grace,' says I, Bawling for company, 'Heaven preserve you for Durham/ 'Too late,' he says, giving his head a shake, 'Too old now—too deaf! Well, this last must be a good one, understand?' —'Ay, your Grace'—'Plenty to eat and drink, No stinting, no cheese-paring.' —'I know, your Grace,' giving him a respectful nudge, 77

'We'll just make do with the best of everything/ —'Eh? What's that?'—I hollered into his hairy ear: 'Just make do with the best of everything!' He laughed fit to kill himself, and finished coughing, Till I thought he might be taken with a stroke or something Before he gave his orders.—'Sit down, your Grace. This chair will hold you. . . . Ah, that's better. Now get your wind back and tell us what you'd like/

Lord and Lady FIFTEENTH CENTURY

T

EN thousand years alone, He and I, In our alabaster beds As the dormant fossils He. Round us in the darkness sleeping, Stone-endued, Squires and kirtled ladies shared Our crowded solitude. Mitred bishops stretched in peace, Palms together; Manor-lords lay uncomplaining Of the heavy limestone weather. Nobles waisted like their greyhounds, Grave and tall; Knights with curving thumb to hilt Alert for trumpet-call— 78

All within the hard lake lying, Without stir, Waited for Creation's hour Under Derbyshire. . . . Then our Genesis began. One by one Man's exploring chisel freed Our bodies to the sun, Carved the entangling stone away From lace and fur, From every flowing fold and line, To reveal us as we were; Found the smooth transparency That nature planned; Married us in chapel here, And laid us hand to hand.

The Doom Painting FIFTEENTH CENTURY

A

;OVE the chancel arch Rise roofs and palaces Of the heavenly Jerusalem, with a rainbow Spanning from tower to tower. On it, aloof (a keystone To the rainbow's Norman arch) Sits Christ in glory: holy, Magnificent, angel-attended, Judging the quick and dead. To the right, below him, watching, The twelve apostles; and under them 79

A graveyard garden, where the righteous Rise up like tulips from their tombs. To the left, sinwards, the damned. They, too, would rise, But hordes of pitchforked demons Thrust them, naked, back, Or drag them, screaming and lamenting, To a flaming cauldron: miser Clutching his money-bags, Ale-wife with short measure, Cornering merchant—all Prodded and tossed like cornsheaves Into the devouringflames.. . . A clear lesson to us all Craning and gaping upwards That even the patience of God Is exhaustible, and repentance not merely Virtuous but a sound investment, Especially in middle age.

The Wool Window LATE FIFTEENTH CENTURY

R

UND this window you'll search in vain For a sculptured Adam or painted Cain, But carved on the stonework and carved there plain Are carthorse, packhorse, mules and asses, Bale and woolpack, anchor and chain; With galleys, galleons, galleasses Up over the lintel and down again.

Hereabouts in King Henry's reign I stapled wool from Dorbury Plain For Flemish loom and Italian skein, 80

By carthorse, packhorse, mules and asses, To Britanny, Gascony, Aquitaine, Or on galleys, galleons, galleasses Round the coast of France to the ports of Spain. Boy I came here, in farmer's wain, A trade to learn and a fortune to gain. I won them both, so I can't complain Of the carthorses, packhorses, mules and asses That served as my troops in the wool campaign, Nor the galleys, galleons, galleasses That pulled for my venture and held the strain; Nor the black-faced sheep who cropped the Plain In spring and summer, in sun and rain, To weave me a gown with scarlet train, So that townsfolk here with their lads and lasses Would lean from their windows and shout and crane As I rode to the banquets or Guild Masses On my horse of grey with the silver rein. Sailors were drowned and packmen slain, Beasts by the score have died in pain For the golden fleeces my barns contain. Carthorses, packhorses, mules and asses Built my fine house in Duckpenny Lane; Galleys, galleons, galleasses Made me twice Mayor and Mayor again. Four hundred years my bones have lain With wife Susannah and daughter Jane, But over our tomb there still remain The carthorses, packhorses, mules and asses To teU of those journeys to France and Spain, And the galleys, galleons, galleasses Up over the lintel and down again. Fc 81

Rood-Loft FIFTEENTH-SIXTEENTH CENTURIES

I

N organ loft Both loud and soft We sing and play, On Sunday and holiday, Tunefully, happily Praising in song With joy day-long, Till the Choir doth ring Like birds in Spring To our sweet singing. To wood and string Our words chiming, We stand in the middle: Gittern and fiddle, Viol and lute, Citole and flute, And little bells dangling With such gay jangling— All these and psaltery Strive for sweet mastery. When that music dies, Then do arise In worship and wonder From chancel under, Mellow yet strong In chant and plainsong, Voices whose notes Like doves from their cotes Reach roof and rafter And Heaven after. 82

Trie organ swelling, God's glory telling, Next in full voice Doth cry 'Rejoice.' Then to this blending Our own pipes lending, Anthem we set And gay motet, Till all God's ways Ring loud with his praise. Strings of the dulcimer Like threads of gossamer Tremble most bright In twilight and candlelight. Hands of the blowers, Working like mowers, Like threshers in valley Or slaves in a galley, Move ever faster For music their master. Then all together Our strength we gather In rood-loft and choir; And louder, higher, In sweet accord, We send to the Lord From string and wood-note, From pipe and from throat Of men and boys, One joyful noise!

83

The Wavering Canon SIXTEENTH CENTURY

T

HIS man is a feather To each wind and weather, Not for two days together Holds to one course. No wish hath he to search For living out of church. He would sooner walk with a lurch Than take to his horse.

When the wind is in the east Then is he a stout priest, Keeps fast-day and feast As well as any Pope. He does not fail or falter With Latin from book and psalter, And for Mass at the altar Weareth a rich cope. But when it veers to the west, The King's road is best: Abbeys must be suppressed, Their deeds a foul scandal. Let shrines all be broken, Their plate seized in token, And good English spoken With no cross or candle. When it blows from the north, Then the Roman strides forth; Our tongue is nothing worth In religion and learning. 84

Those who the Bible read And question the true creed, Let no man them heed: They are faggots for burning. Monks and their holy band Are welcome on every hand; Restore their house and land, Creed, cross and shrine. Though lechery be rife, Let a priest take no wife, But stay chaste all his life Except for concubine. But the wind in the south, Words change in his mouth. He upholds the Queen's truth Now Pope's truth has gone. Spent is his priestly vow, He will not kneel or bow; Vicar of Christ is now Harlot of Babylon. Thus, Queen or King, Without great suffering, With neither hanging nor quartering He keeps a fair skin. From Choir is he not driven, He stays quick and shriven, And shall go whole to Heaven His crown there to win.

85

The Queen LATE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

S

ix drums, six trumpets, Fanfare for the Queen of England! A guard of twenty, with gilt axes, Stand aside at the West entry And wait, their arms uplifted. Then come the gentlemen of the Court, Earls, barons, knights of the garter, Richly attired and bare-headed. Next the Chancellor: on one side An attendant bearing the royal sceptre; On the other, the sword of state in a red Scabbard studded withfleurs de Us. Then with a great rustling of the congregation The Queen enters, her ladies behind her, Clothed in a gown of white silk Bordered with pearls as large as mulberries; And over it a mantle of black silk Shot with silverthreads. Her train is long And borne by a Marchioness. For a chain She wears a collar of gold and jewels, And on her hair, which is chestnut-coloured, A small crown of exceeding splendour. So she walks, and as she passes The people, like corn, are swathed before her.

86

The Martins' Chapel LATE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

T

HE Martins now are gone, Their long flight ended. Into this nest of stone The last is now descended. All seasons through They clung to their one dwelling, War, peace and plague, For years past hope of telling. Now to a land they go Beyond the farthest swallow. God grant thy soul a wing If thou shouldst wish to follow.

Nicholas Martin LATE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

G

OODNIGHT, Nicholas: Thy day is done. Under his hill Goes the westering sun;

Flapping and calling, The rooks fly home; Doves in the dovecots Cry, 'Come, come.' 87

The taper smokes, The guests are gone; Darkness lies Where the candles shone. Goodnight, Nicholas: Long thy sleep. God in his mercy Thy slumbers keep.

Bell Tower i: Morning Bell OOLS of grey Where the mead-mists lay Have drained away;

P

Winds play With each scented spray Of hedgerow may. No longer stay, Nor seek to delay The lift of day, But when I with gay Insistence say: Come pray! pray! Come pray! . . . Then rise and obey! ii: Fire Bell When in haste you hear me call, Leave your work, good people all. Leave the baby in the cradle, Leave the roast beef on the table, 88

Leave the cider, leave the cheese, Leave the crows among the peas. Down all work at sound of bell: Find the fire and douse it well. Hi: 'Great Peter Peter the Fisher cast his net, His boat did pitch when by storms beset. His judgment sound to God he brought, And on that rock our Church was wrought. Though thrice, in fear, his tongue did fail, For Christ was he tried and clapped in jail, And through the world his gospel rang Till he, at last, on cross did hang. While Death of each man takes his toll, He holds the keys of every soul; So note thy words and deeds alike, And stand by his side when Death doth strike. I, in my tower, his praise shall shout Till my sound, too, shall peter out. iv: Storm Bell When, on a sudden, the day darkens And thunder threatens the slender spire, When, high over the sweep of plainland, Sky is a tangle of forked fire, When winds rise, and rains hurtle, And thrush is nested to keep him warm— Then am I launched on the waves of heaven To thwart the thunder and quell the storm.

89

Ironside MID SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

B

ENDING my head down even to my horse's neck, I rode through the West door into the midst of the Church; Where he, stumbling, striking his hooves upon the pavers And gravestones therein, it rang like a hollow Forge, And sent the echoes leaping into the roof thereof. Thus afrighted, he gave the neigh of a fat priest At sermon-time, and did drop his dung upon the ground; Which all the Soldiers seeing did mock at us. Then they, with siege-ladders and grappling irons Climbing a window in the South aisle, with their swords Struck mightily at its lewd images of saints Which men wantonly had fashioned of painted glass, And so let God's light into dark places. As the pieces fell, my horse did plunge again, And would have thrown me, had I not held him fast And spoke him words of comfort. Then other soldiers Seeing this example of their fellows, took their swords And other like weapons, and smote these blasphemies Until each Papish window in the South wall Was but a mass of splinters and tangled lead, Acceptable unto God. We moved that evening, Else had we cleansed them all. For even in the transept A trumpet sounded, summoning to the Market Square. I was level then with the rood-screen; with a cry I drew my sword, and setting spur to horse, Drove for the West door down the stone avenue, And with a back-stroke served at Marston Moor Sliced off one nose from that dormitory of bishops, Drew rein at the last column, and crouching, Rode into the sun to all men's cheering. And so it ended. Ay, but that steeplehouse The hand of the Almighty shall surely pluck down, And leave not one stone standing upon another. 90

Wall Monument SEVENTEENTH CENTURY THE DAUGHTERS: EEKLY, in descending line, We kneel behind our mother: *Agnes, *Rachel, *Susan, *Ann, One behind the other.

M

Stone hood, stone gown, Palms met in prayer: We, embossed on chancel wall, Kneel and worship there. THE SONS: Humbly, at our father's back, We kneel and face our mother; *WiUiam, *Thomas, *Richard, *John, One behind the other. Stone hose, stone gown, Palms met in prayer— We, embossed on chancel wall, Kneel and worship there. ALL:

Mother, daughters; father, sons; Pious, meek and dumb, There we kneel in Sunday peace Till Domesday come. * Different voices.

91

The Pulpit LATE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

F

OR Bishop Glynn, 'The gadfly prelate', Two parts dandy, One part zealot, Decking his creed With lace and ribbons, This pulpit was carved By Grinting Gibbons. The artist's favourite Clustered shapes Of rounded, living, Luscious grapes Made many a bored And drowsy sinner Long for his port After Sunday dinner. But once the Bishop Had climbed these stairs, Hopes could not save them Or fervent prayers. He had them caught While he aked his views, Trapped like lobsters In rented pews. He'd gaze with contempt On their upturned faces, Straighten his wig And flounce his laces, Glare at a cougher, Pause, and next Clear his throat And quote his text. 92

With tags of Hebrew, Greek and Latin He kept diem pinned To the pews they sat in. Nothing in Testaments Old or New But served his purpose And saw him through— Epistles, parables, Gospels, psalms, He welcomed them all With open arms. Every curious Contradiction, Snatches of truth And chunks of fiction, Appeals to forgive And commands to kill, All was grist To his Sunday mill. He knew each Jew And near relation From Genesis Until Revelation— All the rites And barbarous fights Of the Israelites And Ishmelites, Bedlamites And Wykhamites, Stalagmites And Stalactites— Every word That was in the Bible, Whether divine Or merely tribal, 93

Shouts of triumph, Wails of despair, Who begot whom And precisely where— A mind and memory Great as his is Could scoop the jackpot In all the quizzes. At notes and footnotes None was better. He might miss the spirit, But never the letter. He knew what it meant To be a Christian; Whether he/efc it's Another question. Of Christian love He had no inkling: As soon as he spoke There were cymbals tinkling. But he loved his Church And he loved his King— There just wasn't time For everything. These rules were enough For loyal needs: 'Obey the Church, Respect her Creeds.' And on that subject No modern German Ever turned out A more tortuous sermon. Dissecting all The Thirty-Nine Articles, He could preach for hours On each of the particles. 94

While he admonished His hurdled flock, Chimes went unheard From the chancel clock. Half hour, one hour, Two went by As they gazed at their shepherd With glazing eye, Easing buttock In anguished pew— And what he was driving at No-one knew. When it was done (For his Lordship brooked No Norfolk goose To be overcooked) He'd smooth his surplice; And shaking his cuff— A sign to the faithful He'd had enough— Descend the staircase With regal tread, So that all who saw him Proudly said No previous owner Of mitre and crozier Had been such a credit To tailor and hosier. With a final flourish He stalked to his stall, Half-waking the Dean And the Canons and all, And leaving empty This clustered vine To Mr Gibbons' Express design, 95

Where trailing tendrils With leaves entwine— A pulpit bulging With wooden wine.

Grave-Digger

M

ANY'S the sleeper I've tucked away In his six-foot room At close of day.

Many's the lonely Bed I've built, With stone for pillow And clay for quilt. And many's the time I've thought with a sigh Of my last room taken, My last guest, I.

'Restorer' EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 'If you would see his monument, look around you TRANGER, pause here, lest as these aisles you pace, S You bring dishonour to th' illustrious race. Lo! where you walk some fearless Warrior trod, Or mitred Bishop wing'd his pray'r to God. 96

And when they died, by Time or Care oppress'd, This Temple drew them to her stony breast. Therefore gaze round, 'neath lofty arches stray, And scan each nook for Trophies of decay. Though warlike Son he coffin'd now with Sire, Though flesh ecclesiastical expire, Yet marbl'd tomb, which pious orphans raise, Shall hold their Fame and all their Virtues praise. Below the Tow'r—let Homage be your guide— Stands one such monument to filial pride. One hand on skull, the other laid on plough, There stands a man with mild and copious brow. Three Mourners round his sandal'd feet appear, While Angels waft him to the Heav'nly sphere. Stranger, pause long, nor scorn to staunch your eyes, For 'neath this bier the mighty Thompson lies. Ere God to Man lent that ingenious brain All was confusion in His holy fane: Which Thompson, arm'd with Mathematics, saw, And with a shout, proclaim'd the rule of Law. From right to left, and left to right he cast Those stone effusions of th' unletter'd Past; And rousing inmates from their long repose, Replac'd them neatly in recumbent rows. What though one's shinbones found another's knees? No room for Sentiment when Art decrees. Some tombs too high, their finials he refin'd; For those too low, a pedestal design'd; Until he fashion'd, like Procrustes old, Their crude proportions to a common mould. Those worthless, on the rural poor bestow'd, Became a trough, or deckt some swain's abode. Gc 97

Next, to the tablets Thompson turn'd his gaze, The scattered relics of less barb'rous days. Stern Symmetry obey'd her master's call, And equidistant plac'd them on the wall. Brasses he banish'd to th' adjacent aisles, The chancel pav'd with rich Italian tiles. So from resplendent floor to fretted vault, No monument withstood his fierce assault; But each discordant part he did enrol, And wedded all in one harmonious whole. Like th' Almighty, His Creation o'er, Reason now reign'd where Chaos rul'd before.

The Font fTHniRTY generations have stood and listened -L By this flowering stone, Wondering, pondering, as their child was christened; Would he atone For all disasters?—their son, Now cleansed of sin, Attain the ambitions they never won, Would never win? Child after child, generation on generation Fails and fails. Always, it seems, the subtle degradation Of the world prevails. Faith drowns: soon perish The dreams they want; Till they stand with the hopes their fathers cherish Beside this font. 98

Some in stealth, raising the cover, Have stolen water To turn the thoughts of apprentice lover Or merchant's daughter. But in the end, servant or master, In silk or cotton, They have lain under marble and alabaster, Or in graves forgotten. . . . Yet we see only the outward scheme. Within the heart There runs a parallel but opposing stream, Ours yet apart, Which flows from eternity and joins it there. Who, on that level, Can guess the final triumph or despair Of God and Devil? Who can divine through what Red Seas they crossed, Or on what ultimate rainbowed Ararat Each Ark was tossed? Stand here in faith who need Such faith. Be reconciled. Believe that your human love may lead The inner child.

The Lectern

F

ORTH from my outstretched wings Fly the words of God. They are fiercer than mountain eagles, Softer than doves. 99

O birds on the air of morning, Arise and sing! Send out your murmurs of love, Your cries of warning, That when to the branching vault Like larks you have risen, Men hearing the pulse of your wings May halt and listen. Tell to each hearkening ear, In this poised hour, The truth he already knows, The word of power That comes to the door of his hfe And turns the key: Speak for his wordless despair And ecstasy. Mate with his hovering heart, O wings of light: Startle the quick of his soul To such delight That the things he has seen and loved, The ways he has trod, Are all transformed, transfigured With the touch of God. Then home to your eyrie come This printed haven Paged hke a plover's tail, Backed like a raven. 100

Here on my outstretched wings Lie still, my birds; So fierce, so calm, this brood Of holy words.

Weathercock

H

IGH in the stream Of clouds I stand, Twirling my tail At the winds' command.

When West-wind blows And the swallows flit, I turn and roast Like a fowl on a spit. East-wind cools me: His breath so raw That I long for my barn With its coop of straw. When North-wind comes, I see the snow In its airborne armies Earthward go. I watch his cloak, While I ruffle and freeze, Cover the domes Of the cedar trees. 101

Then South returns, With the April rain, To smooth my feathers To gold again. Jackdaws, jeering, Around me flow. A cuckoo calls From the elms below. So, as the seasons Cool and burn, I clutch my steeple And turn, and turn, Spinning to East, To West again, Sighting five counties From sea to plain; Reminding men, As they watch me here, How St Peter turned From the wind of fear. Strange that I Should be perched instead Of St John's great bird Whose wings of dread Uphold the book While his words are read, Four hundred feet Beneath me spread. 102

Topsy-turvy, He and I: The Eagle earthbound, The Cock in the sky!

Sundial South Wall ''TPiME is sunlight and a moving shadow; JL Time is rain on warm stone; Time a spiral of weaving butterflies, Or fire-smoke after the leaves have gone. Men make their god in Time's image, Raise his shrine in every land, Order their lives to a clock's ticking, Live and die at his command. How swift is life on such a reckoning ! Years pass like a driven cloud: Only a breath, and generations Exchange their cot-clothes for a shroud. Love lies under the clock's ticking: Be still, and know another God. One moment freed from Time's dominion Exceeds a year from his measuring-rod. Mortals, seek that immortal moment ! Crucified by Time's twelve nails I cannot hasten as man hastens, And stillness teaches where truth prevails. 103

O think of time as the rain falling; As butterflies; or wisps that climb In autumn from the cairn of leaves; Sunlight and a moving shadow. . . . Time.'

The Close KY, spire, buttress, grass— S Acres of smooth grass. Lie here in an elm's shadow, And watch the summer pass.

Thrushes sing in the Canons' gardens; And beyond their garden walls, Far, yet clear as a chorister, The boy-voiced cuckoo calls. Scent of blossom and mown grass, Of gently shaken trees— All the hundred breaths of summer Borne on the warm breeze. Across the West-Front wall of stone— Sunlit, golden stone— Butterflies in white are dancing, And a cuckoo flies alone. The feel of scaly, pine-cone bark, Of winds that pass unseen In little soundless waves of air Over a lake of green. Acres, acres of smooth grass; And between that and the sky, Buttress, wall, tower, spire, And the white clouds drifting by. 104

The West Front

I

T is, as you see, a cold stone, Even when time has worked it, indefinite In colour—hardly stone at all, But a dull canvas waiting for its painter. Stand here with me, and watch How the hours and seasons, weather and sunlight Change this chameleon stone. How at dawn It is one substance, but as day comes The colour ripens—a warm tint That seems to grow from the stone's kernel, Till the whole Cathedral is alive with it, A skin glowing with the building's health. Through the day, see it blanch At the storm's coming, as the rain sweeps Down from the Plain. Then, as it passes, How blood flows back to the stone, Calm now, but shining wet Where the sun strikes. Or at evening, When mists rise from the twilight meadows, It assumes the quality of mist—tenuous, Without substance, like the first dream Of its creator; a vision only. But wait till the mists have cleared again, And over the cedar's shoulder the moon Appears, gazing with steady eye At the West Front wall of saints. Now is the stone the moon's colour; It glows with unearthly beauty, as if quarried In the moon's craters. And the saints, As slowly, imperceptibly, it moves Among them, seem to be her priests, Ministering to the mysteries of the night. He

105

Man and his Cathedral

t

KE his cathedral, man Is held to earth by thrust And counter-thrust; mortal; enduring; Destined to return to dust. But like the spire at night When Venus comes and Mars, The fingers of his mind reach up And pluck the stars.

Prayer

W

E pray thee, Spirit of God, that our spirits, Rising like these arches toward heaven, May meet in thee, and find stability. Grant us, through windows of imagination, a glimpse Of that spaceless, timeless country, from which we came, To which we shall return. Buttress our belief, Within this world of time, in that world's values: Let us feel, within the play of stresses, That beauty, goodness, truth survive destruction Of earthly counterparts, and in thy kingdom Will stand eternally. Open our doors, O spirit of love, to thy spirit; make us one With thy creating hand, spirit of life— That we may be, and know ourselves to be, A brick, a stone, within thy vast design.

106

Notes

I

N this poem I have tried to build an English cathedral and to suggest the life it held, particularly in the Middle Ages. Although Salisbury is its core, I have not attempted a portrait of any one cathedral but have included features and incidents from many. The following notes are for those who may be interested in the sources. THE LAND [12], Salisbury lies at the junction of five streams and is, as one writer has put it, 'as flat as the palm of a man's hand'. PEASANT'S DAUGHTER [14]. The style is loosely derived from the Anglo-Saxon, which must still have exerted a strong influence on the folk-poetry, as distinct from the court poetry, of the early thirteenth century. BISHOP [is]. Based on the Calendar of Papal Registers (Papal letters of 1198-1304), printed by the Society of Antiquaries. The Bishop is based on Richard le Poore who for seventeen years was Dean of Old Sarum, while his brother was Bishop. They were great-grandsons of a bishop and also, as the soldiers in the poem declare, 'sons of a bishop's concubine'. QUARRY-MASTER [i8]. The underground 'cave quarries' of Chilmark, from which Salisbury was built, described by Edith Olivier in Wiltshire. It was a vault of 13 acres, 90 feet high. Professor Lethaby (Legacy of the Middle Ages) defines a medieval cathedral as 'a natural growth from a 107

quarry . . . a function of life and not a whim of fashion'. DEDICATION [ip]. From the records of Salisbury Cathedral. Portrait of Salisbury by G. H. Cook, and Salisbury, by R. L. P. Jowitt. St Vitalis' Day = April 28. ARCHITECT [21], The master-mason was responsible for the overall design as well as for the stonework. Chief sources: The Architect in History, M. S. Briggs; Henry Yevele: the Life of an English Architect, J. H. Harvey; Gothic Architecture in England, Francis Bond; The English Cathedrals, Felton and Harvey, and Mr Harvey's extraordinary collection of factual titbits, English Medieval Architects. I have taken the latter's view that the less satisfactoryparts of Salisbury's design were due to disagreement between the master-mason, Nicholas of Ely, and the dilettante churchman, Elias de Derham; but the credit given to the architect in this dispute is my own interpretation. So is the suggestion that a spire at Salisbury may have been his original intention. The description of the dawn ceremony is owed to W. A Lawrie's History of Freemasonry in Scotland. G. H. Cook (English Medieval Parish Church) adds: 'Very few medieval churches face the true equinoctial east, and the Saint's Day theory, if accepted, would account for the diversities of alignment, due to the varying positions of the sunrise from day to day.' 'Who do men say ...?' = the opening lines of First Vespers on the Feast of St Peter and St Paul (June 29). 'As girls in Maytime. . . .' This phrase is taken from a thirteenth-century poem on St Hugh of Lincoln, which describes the polished marble columns of the Cathedral: 'Those slender columns which stand round the great piers, even as a bevy of maidens stand marshalled for a dance.' BALLAD OF THE BISHOP'S TREES [27]. A legend of Winchester Cathedral. In this poem a story of the thirteenth century is told in the ballad-style of the sixteenth. 108

STONE-CARVER [30]. For this poem I am largely indebted to Professor Nikolaus Pevsner's beautiful book, The Leaves of Southwell Such journeys were not uncommon. Masons often travelled long distances in the interests of their work. M. S. Briggs (The Architect in History) tells of Villard de Honnecourt of Cambrai who visited Rheims in the thirteenth century to make sketches 'on his way to work in Hungary'. WANDERING SCHOLARS [35]. This poem owes much to Helen WaddelTs book of the same title, though any errors are mine. Its style and rhythm were suggested by a translation by Wright and Halliwell. 'Paraclete' = the small chapel, named after The Comforter, to which Abelard retired after his emasculation. CRUSADER [38], Based on the life of William Longespee the Second, whose cenotaph is in Salisbury Cathedral. All the incidents, including his mother's vision of his death, are founded on fact. Flos comitum: 'Flower of Earls', the motto on his tomb. It was a standing joke on the Continent that the English were tailed. 'It seems to have arisen from the legend that St Augustine punished the men of Dorset, who attacked him, by condemning them to have tails.' A. L. Poole, From Domesday Book to Magna Carta. WOOD-CARVER [43]. 'Misericord' (sometimes miscalled 'miserere') = pity or compassion. It was a bracket on the underside of a choir seat which, when tilted up, allowed the occupant to lean against it, standing. Francis Bond (Wood Carvings in English Churches, Vol. i) calculates that in a medieval cathedral or monastery there were '42 periods at which it was necessary to stand daily, besides endless verses and responses, in addition to Matins and Mass'. These misericords represented the spirit's concession to the flesh. Some of the best examples are in Wells, Exeter and 109

Ely. Those in the poem are quite imaginary: nor is it likely that they would have been carved on the site as described. CORPUS CHRISTI PLAY [46]. Plays were often performed on Corpus Christi Day (June 4), at first in the church itself, later in the precincts, and finally in the towns. These words are stage directions of the play Adam, following very closely the translation of E. K. Chambers in The Medieval Stage. They are probably the earliest stage directions in English drama. They also include the following Hamlet-like instructions to the players: 'All the personages must be trained to speak composedly, and to fit convenient gesture to the matter of their speech. Nor must they foist-in a syllable, or clip one of the verses, but must enounce firmly and repeat what is set down for them in due order.' MARTYR [47], Imaginary, though Becket may have been the instigator. SPIRE-BUILDER [48]. Based on the spire at Salisbury, built by Richard Farleigh, 1330. This is a very good illustration of Francis Bond's remark (Gothic Architecture in England) that 'the chief problem of medieval builders was not how to erect a building but how to keep it up'. The miracle of Salisbury spire (apart from the original miracle of its beauty) is how it has survived for 600 years. Portrait of Salisbury, G. H. Cook; 'The Spire of Salisbury', Geoffrey Grigson, Country Life, July 28,1955. The idea that Farleigh was carrying out the original design of the Cathedral's architect a century before is my invention, and without factual foundation. THE PEOPLE [51]. A considerable debt to English Life in the Middle Ages by L. F. Salzman. 'Yes . . . new hair-style': an almost word-for-word transcription of a sermon by Berthold of Ratisbon, one of the most famous of medieval preachers. no

VESPERS [54]. Suggested by a paragraph about Bury St Edmund's in The Last Abbot, by A. F. Webling, though the angel comes from another East Anglian church. 'Storm Bell': some bells, blessed by a bishop, had the power of driving off devils and thunderstorms. Ave, rex. . . . Vespers began with this antiphon. 'The end of Night': the word is used here symbolically. PILGRIM [56]. The style of this poem derives, of course, from The Canterbury Tales. For its background I am indebted to Chaucer of England by Marcuette Chute, and The Canterbury Pilgrims by H. S. Ward. Pilgrimages were popular throughout the Middle Ages, not only to Canterbury, but to Walsingham, Compostella, Rome, Jerusalem, and other lesser shrines. TRAVELLING PREACHER [58]. The first section is based on a statute of Richard II. The rest is the gist of many such sermons, recorded in Froissart's Chronicles and the Chronicon Angliae, and quoted in Jusserand's English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages. The couplet is the famous one of John Ball, which played a considerable part in the Peasants' Rebellion. THE DEVIL [60]. Suggested by an extract from the Chronicle of John of Worcester, 1138, the last line coming direct from G. G. Coulton's translation (Life in the Middle Ages). SANCTUARY [61]. Acknowledgements for the legal facts: Encyclopedia Britannica; and Scenes and Characters from the Middle Ages, by E. L. Cutts. CANDLE CAROL [66], The memory of a realistic crib seen years ago in a church at Woodford Green, Essex. Salisbury in

Cathedral once claimed to possess the 'actual' crib from Bethlehem. PLAGUE-PIT [67]. 'Doctors are now agreed that this was the bubonic plague, coming from the East, and carried by fleas and rats, of which there was no lack in medieval Europe. Medieval medicine was naturally powerless to diagnose anything so dependent upon steady and microscopic observation; the plague was therefore often attributed secondarily to planetary influences and primarily to God's anger against the special wickedness of the age/ G. G. Coulton, Medieval Panorama. In this poem I may have melodramatized the speed of death, but have toned down the symptoms of the disease, and have certainly not exaggerated its effects. It is estimated that the outbreak of 1348 left only two million out of a population of five million. Records at Wells Cathedral, where the Bishop remained, tell of 288 parish priests ordained in a single year. As one incumbent died, the Bishop instituted another. Wells, Glastonbury and Cleeve, Edward Foord. RELIQUARY [69]. All the 'relincs' in the poem have been noted by Erasmus (1513) and other travellers in England, not always with approval. Several shrines and reliquaries had the foot-holes mentioned; one still survives at Whitchurch Canonicorum in Dorset. J. A. MacCulloch comments in Medieval Faith and Fable: 'The crown of thorns, spear, sponge and reed, the seamless coat, the pillar to which our Lord was bound, the stone of the sepulchre, earth from the Holy Land, even our Lord's footprints, were known from the fourth century. . . . Other relics were Moses' rod and horns, hairs of Noah's beard, pieces of the Ark, soot from the furnace of the Three Children, manna, Job's dung-heap, feathers from St Michael's wings, St Joseph's breath. . . . Christ's tooth, fallen from Him at the age of nine, was at the monastery of Saint-Medard, Soissons.' Boccaccio goes even better and refers satirically 112

to a feather that dropped from Gabriel's wings at the Annunciation and 'a finger of the Holy Ghost'. THE CLOCK [71]. Two impressions of clocks merge here— one at Wells Cathedral, the other above the Rathaus in Munich before the war. My memory tells me that the figures of jousting knights in the latter were almost lifesize. 'Hauberk' = mail tunic of interlocking rings. CURE-SELLER [73]. Based on an incident quoted in English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages, by J. Jusserand, translated by L. Toulmin Smith. See also Medieval Man9 by Frederick Harrison. Salerno was a centre of medical learning in the Middle Ages. PRINCESS [75]. Imaginary, but the phenomenon has been noted by more than one writer; probably due to a completely airtight sealing of the tomb. LADY CHAPEL [76]. A large chapel added to the cathedral in honour of the Virgin. JOHN THE CELLARER [77]. The quantities mentioned are not exaggerated. A menu, quoted in Medieval Man by Frederick Harrison, for the enthronement of a bishop includes such items as 4,000 pigeon, 4,000 woodcock, 1,500 pasties, 5,000 dishes of jelly, 6,000 custards, 300 quartens of wheat. The feast would last for days and would probably cost the Bishop the whole of his first year's income. See also More Medieval Byways, by L. F. Salzman. At the same time, the priests must not be accused of excessive gluttony. Jocelin of Brakelond records that after the installation of Abbot Samson in Bury St Edmunds in the twelfth century, 'he retired to his chamber, spending his day of festival with more than a thousand dinner guests with great rejoicing'. Quoted in A History of Everyday Things in England, 1066-1499, by M. and C. Quennell. H3

LORD AND LADY [78]. I owe this idea to the following paragraph in Jacquetta Hawkes' great book, A Land, and to Henry Moore's illustration which accompanies it: The beds of Keuper alabaster are so narrowly limited that I seem to see it throughout geological time with the prelates in their copes and mitres, the wasp-waisted noblemen and knights with hons at their feet, the kilted ladies with their little dogs, together with the forms of Christian iconography, already lying within; negative fossils, shapes waiting for creation instead of surviving from it. Alabaster was discovered as a material for tomb monuments in the fourteenth century when it began to displace Purbeck marble. Quarried in Derbyshire and Nottingham, it was easy to carve and yet almost indestructible. Its translucency gave it a strangely living quality in changing lights, and its surface lent itself to many varying treatments of tooling and colouring. English Church Monuments, 1510-1850, K. A. Esdaile. Where husband and wife are represented, they sometimes lie side by side, the left hand of one turned to touch the right hand of the other. THE DOOM PAINTING [79]. Most large churches had one in the Middle Ages, usually above the chancel arch. In a period when few could read, these 'visual aids' were an important part of religious education. The one described here still exists in St Thomas's Church, Salisbury. 'Cornering merchant': making a corner in goods at the expense of the community was not considered such a worthy object in those days as it is today and earned the pillory more often than a knighthood. THE WOOL WINDOW [8o]. Suggested by the south porch of Tiverton Church, Devon, and the chapel window in memory of John Greneway, wool merchant, who died in 1529. The external wall has carvings of galleys (rowing 114

boats), galleons (sailing vessels), and galleasses (for both oar and sail), as well as woolpacks and other emblems of his trade. There are excellent photographs in The West Country, by Ruth Manning-Sanders. ROOD-LOFT [82]. The gallery behind the rood or crucifix, containing a small organ, musicians and singers. The chants would usually be supplied, unaccompanied, by the vicarschoral in the choir below. Citole = pear-shaped instrument with four wire strings and ribs. Psaltery = a triangular instrument with ten strings. Motet = in those days an anthem. Music in the Middle Ages, by Gustave Reese, and Bond's Wood Carvings in English Churches, Vol. 2. THE WAVERING CANON [84]. The relatively short period from the last years of Henry VIII, through the reigns of Edward VI and Mary to the accession of Elizabeth, was a difficult one for those clergy with no taste for martyrdom. A few on both sides suffered death, imprisonment or exile, but the vast majority played Vicar of Bray until religion settled on a more even keel: A Short History of English Reformation, Gordon Crosse; England in the Age of Wyclife, G. M. Trevelyan; Pre-Reformation England, Maynard Smith. 'Harlot of Babylon' was a term used by extreme Protestants to describe the Pope. The verse-form is one popular at that time. THE QUEEN [86]. Based on a description by Paul Hentzner, a German visitor to London in 1598, quoted in Shakespeare's England, edited by W. Raleigh. The drum and trumpets are from an account of Queen Elizabeth by Sir Robert Sydney, 1600. THE MARTINS' CHAPEL [87]. The Martin Family, on which this is based, lived at Athelhampton Hall in Dorset for nearly 400 years until the end of the sixteenth century. They are buried in Puddletown Church. I have assumed 115

here that their arms included the usual heraldic birds, martins; in actual fact, this family chose martens, or small monkeys. NICHOLAS MARTIN [87]. Also suggested by the Puddletown inscriptions. Nicholas, the last male of the family, died in 1595 and was buried with a two-word epitaph: 'Goodnight, Nicholas'. Highways and Byways in Dorset, Sir Frederick Treeves. BELL TOWER [88]. This was sometimes separate from the Church, as originally at Salisbury. At East Dereham in Norfolk it is actually larger than the church tower. 'Great Peter': there is a bell of this name in Exeter Cathedral which weighs nearly 6 tons, only slightly less heavy than Great Tom at Oxford. The style of this rhyme was not unusual in bell-rhymes. In those days people had no snobbish inhibitions about puns; their appreciation of them was part of their general delight in words. They even italicized them to make sure that no simple person should lose the point. IRONSIDE [90]. I have tried to weld the vocabulary and prose-rhythm of Nonconformist writers of the seventeenth century to modern free verse. WALL MONUMENT [pi]. To be seen in many parish churches as well as in cathedrals—the Victorian 'family portrait' two centuries before its time. Here, however, father and mother are seen in profile. They kneel, facing each other, while their sons and daughters arrange themselves carefully behind in order of seniority. THE PULPIT [92]. Bishop Glynn is an imaginary person, but his type was extremely common in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, when the Church was accepted as a safe and fashionable profession, and religion 116

a polite subject for discussion. I had no particular pulpit in mind, but remembered the exquisite carvings that Grinling Gibbons and his pupils left in some City of London churches which I knew before the war. 'There is no instance,' said Horace Walpole, 'of a man before Gibbons who gave the wood the loose and airy lightness of flowers.' But grapes were his favourite models. RESTORER [96]. A more appropriate epitaph might be: 'May the earth rest heavily upon him.' The prototype of Thompson is, of course, the infamous James Wyatt, called by Pugin 'this monster of architectural depravity'. He has been white-washed in recent years but undoubtedly despoiled many buildings during the eighteenth century with the highest of motives and the complete approval of the Church. The tomb described is imaginary but is also typical of the incongruity of the period. THE FONT [98]. From the baptismal service of the Church of England: 'Almighty and everlasting God, who of thy great mercy didst save Noah and his family in the ark from perishing by water; and also didst safely lead the children of Israel thy people through the Red Sea, figuring thereby thy Holy Baptism; and by the Baptism of thy wellbeloved Son Jesus Christ; in the river Jordan, didst sanctify water to the mystical washing away of sin; We beseech thee, for thine infinite mercies, that thou wilt mercifully look upon this child, wash him and sanctify him with the Holy Ghost, that he, being delivered from thy wrath may be received into the ark of Christ's Church; and being stedfast in faith, joyful through hope, and rooted in charity, may so pass the waves of this troublesome world, that finally he may come to the land of everlasting life, there to reign with thee world without end.' Because the baptismal water was sometimes stolen for white magic or black, wooden font-covers with locks were added, wood being also a medium difficult for witchcraft to penetrate. 117

THE LECTERN [99]. Usually carved in the form of an eagle, the symbol of St John. THE WEST FRONT [105], I had in mind again the appearance of Salisbury Cathedral at night, though the statues may have moved across from Wells. Edith Olivier, in her Wiltshire, writes of the stone at Salisbury: It seems hardly a stone at all, but the visible impression of the building constructed from it.'

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ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: CHRISTIANITY

Volume 13

CHRISTIANS AND CHRISTIANITY IN INDIA AND PAKISTAN

CHRISTIANS AND CHRISTIANITY IN INDIA AND PAKISTAN A General Survey of the Progress of Christianity in India from Apostolic Times to the Present Day

P. THOMAS

This edition first published in 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business First published 1954 Allen & Unwin. Copyright 1954 P. Thomas All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN: ISBN:

978-0-367-62307-4 978-1-003-10879-5 978-0-367-63136-9 978-0-367-63144-4 978-1-003 -11231-0

(Set) (Set) (ebk) (Volume 13) (hbk) (Volume 13) (pbk) (Volume 13) (ebk)

Publisher’s Note The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. Disclaimer The publisher has made every effort to trace copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

T

ANGEL

Christian influence is clearly discernible in this fourth-century terracotta work. (Peshawar Museum]

CHRISTIANS AND CHRISTIANITY IN INDIA AND PAKISTAN A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE P R O G R E S S OF CHRISTIANITY IN INDIA FROM A P O S T O L I C TIMES TO THE PRESENT DAY

BY

P. THOMAS

LONDON

GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD RUSKIN HOUSE

• MUSEUM

STREET

First published in 1954 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, 1911, no portion may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiry should be made to the publisher.

Printed in Great Britain in I2pt. Bembo type by C. Tinting & Co., Ltd., Liverpool, London and Prescot

TO MY WIFE

PREFACE Many friends, both Christian and non-Christian, have pointed out to me the need for a book giving a connected account of Christianity in India from the time of the Apostle Thomas, who preached the Gospel in India, to the present day. Existing books, written by Europeans or Americans mainly, are inclined to treat the subject from a denominational point of view and usually skip over the fourteen centuries that intervened between the advent of the Apostle in India and the arrival of the Portuguese; wherever efforts had been made by them to touch upon this period of Indian Christian history, the authors had shown marked antipathy towards Indian traditions, especially of Kerala, where the Church the Apostle founded has flourished to the present day. This is probably due to the authors' want of familiarity with the traditions of the South. Born and brought up in a family of Syrian Christians in Malabar tracing their origin to the Apostle Thomas, I have had opportunities of studying the vital traditions of South India which many others had not. Hence in this work my main effort has been to put the history of Indian Christianity in its correct perspective. The emphasis, again, is on the greater Church of Christ. The House of Many Mansions has been built by a large number of workers, and the labour of none is decried. The friends who have encouraged me to write this book are too many to be mentioned here individually. I must, however, record my gratitude to Dr. John Matthai who, amidst his multifarious preoccupations, was kind enough to go through the manuscript and offer valuable suggestions. THE AUTHOR

CONTENTS CHAPTER

I India in the First Century of the Christian Era

PAGE

i

n The Apostles of India

12

ra The early Malabar Church

29

IV The coming of the Portuguese and the Mission of St. Francis Xavier

44

v Robert de Nobili, the Roman Brahmin and the Madura Mission

63

vi The Syrians and the Portuguese

76

vn Christianity in Mogul India

105

vra Begum Zebunissa Joanna Samru, the Christian Princess of Sardhana

126

ix Early Protestant Missions

150

x Crusade on the Naboabs

168

xi Progress of Christianity under the British

185

xii The Influence of Christianity on Hinduism

204

XHI Some Christian Communities of the West Coast 224 xrv Christianity in Modern India

A*

240

Bibliography

245

Index

246

ILLUSTRATIONS 1 Angel 2 Thomas Clears His Doubt

frontispiece facing

3 St. Francis Xavier

page 52 53

4 Akbar Meeting the First Jesuit Mission

116

5 De Nobili and a Disciple

116

6 A Mogul Painting of the Assault on Hugli

117

7 St. Thomas Mount, Mylapore

180

8 St. John's College, Sardhana

180

9 St. Thomas Cathedral, Mylapore

181

10 Christian Medical College Hospital, Vellore

181

CHAPTER I INDIA IN THE FIRST CENTURY OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA THE first century of the Christian era is one of those periods in Indian history of which little is known. Events of importance, to be sure, did happen during this period also, but we have no record of them due to the general indifference of ancient Indian writers to historical subjects. Ancient Indians had taken a lively interest in practically every field of human activity and have left us voluminous works on various subjects but not one book of pure history. The merely mundane did not interest them, and till the time of the Muslim conquest the history of India is largely a matter of conjecture, the main sources of information being stray accounts left by foreigners and indigenous religious literature. Before the beginning of the Christian era, the vast Mauryan empire, built by Chandragupta and expanded and consolidated by his grandson Asoka, had shown signs of disintegration. Asoka's successors did not possess the wisdom and strength of mind that distinguished this emperor or probably they took the doctrines of Buddhism too seriously to be good rulers; whatever the cause, the central authority weakened and the numerous potentates who owed reluctant allegiance to Magadha threw off the yoke and declared their independence. The Central Asian hordes ever on the prowl for weak spots in the Indian empire burst in through the Khyber and Bolan to plunder, pillage and carve out kingdoms for themselves. They overran the Greek kingdom of Bactria, entered the Punjab and fanned out north and south. The influence of these Scythian nomads, known in Hindu legend as the Sakas, extended from Kashmir to Western India. The Kushans, the northern branch of the Sakas, settled down in Kashmir and the Punjab, accepted Buddhism and built a flourishing empire. 1

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Central India too claimed the attention of the Sakas. Here the powerful kingdom of Ujjain successfully resisted their expansion for some time, but in the first century of the Christian era the kingdom fell. The Saka era which begins in 78 A.D. in all probability marks the overthrow of Ujjain by the Sakas and the coronation of their emperor. In the fourth and fifth decades of the first century of the Christian era, Gundaphoros was the most important king in North-Western India. The extent of his dominion is not known but his influence was felt in Parthia and Western India. His name was well known in Syria and the Mediterranean regions of Asia and Africa, and it was to his kingdom that Apostle Thomas came to preach Christ. Amidst all the wars and turmoil of continuous Saka invasions, there was tremendous religious activity in India, especially among the Buddhists. They preached the Law to the oppressed and oppressors alike and converted many Saka chiefs and kings to Buddhism. Their conversion paved die way for missionary activities in their homeland in Central Asia, and the barbarous nomads of these regions were brought under the softening influence of Buddhism. The Sakas had no great culture of their own to boast of and generally accepted the religion and culture of the peoples they conquered. The Northerners accepted the Hellenized form of Buddhism prevalent in Gandhara and the Land of the Five Rivers, and the Southerners Jainism and Hinduism. They were incorporated in the social scheme of India and soon lost their individuality as a separate nation. While North India was thus subject to invasions by barbarous nomads from Central Asia, conflicts of the South were of a less severe nature. In the Deccan ruled the powerful Andhras who stood as a barrier between the Sakas and kingdoms of South India. There were certainly wars between the monarchs of South Indian kingdoms, but these wars were between nations that followed the same religion and code of ethics and recognized the need for protecting the civil population whether of their

FIRST CENTURY OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA

3

own kingdom or of the enemy. Nor are we correct in saying that the wars were between nations; the wars were between kings and their soldiers and the duty of the civil population was merely to watch the progress of battle and pay their homage to the victor. These ancient notions, religiously followed in South India, made wars in these regions more of a diversion for kings and soldiers than a misfortune to the people. Till Tippu Sultan, late in the eighteenth century, in imitation of the northern vandals indulged in wholesale massacre and enslavement of civil population and destruction of shrines, conflicts among South Indian Hindu kings had not seriously disrupted the economy of village life, the mainstay of every kingdom in ancient India. South India never had a Mihiragula or Mahmud of Ghazni. Protected by the Vindhyas on the north and the sea on the other sides, the country had enjoyed practical immunity from the marauding hordes of Central Asia who spent themselves up on the plains of the Punjab or Hindustan. It was due to this freedom from fear of foreign invasion that South Indians were able to remain in the ancient world an industrious, peace-loving, prosperous race who had cultivated extensive commercial relations with the outside world. The swarthy sons of the South were excellent traders and seamen and they carried the civilisation and wares of their land to the islands of the Southern Ocean and to the ports of distant lands. In the beginning of the Christian era, South India was divided into three principal kingdoms: The Chera, the Pandyan and the Chola. The Chera kingdom corresponded to present Kerala excluding the extreme south, the Chola territory lay on the east coast from the mouth of the Krishna to the present Ramnad district, and between the two was the powerful Pandyan kingdom with its capital at Madura. These were the kingdoms of the three crowned kings, but owing nominal allegiance to one or other of these were a number of chieftains whose loyalty depended upon the strength of the suzerain to enforce it. The country was fairly well governed though the kings were perpetually watching one another, and petty jealousies and lust

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CHRISTIANITY IN INDIA AND PAKISTAN

for power often made war inevitable. The highways of internal trade were kept safe, as the interest of trade was a sacred trust to kings. Impaling was the common form of punishment for highway robbery. Justice was fairly well administered according to the standards of the time. In India, it is well to remember, despotism never degenerated into the depths it did in the Roman world where the emperor recognized no power above him either in heaven or on earth. The Roman Emperor was himself a god. Indian kings were only deputies or 'portions' of gods and there were fearless Brahmins who told recalcitrant despots in, open assemblies what they should and should not do. In the ancient world commercial and cultural intercourse between nations was more free than in the middle ages. The religious fanaticism that marred history in the dark ages had not yet made nations exclusive and arrogant. The ancients kept an open mind in religious matters and were willing to learn and to teach. The obstacles that stood in the way of cultural contact between nations in those days were mainly those of nature and not of man: great distances, impassable mountains, wild deserts and stormy seas. But the profits of trade made men brave these dangers and commercial enterprise was in no small measure responsible for the advancement of civilization. Alexander's conquests opened up contact between North India and the Mediterranean region. Many of the myths Herodotus had woven round the fabulous India from hearsay were exploded by the scribes of Alexander who wrote from observation. Alexander, during his lifetime, gave a semblance of unity to his vast and unwieldy conquests, but on his death the loosely held structure tottered and tumbled down. The ideals of cultural and commercial contacts, however, continued. Greek and Indian artists worked side by side in the Hellenized kingdom of Gandhara. Regular envoys were sent by Greek kings to Indian courts, matrimonial alliances between Eastern and Western princes became common, and caravans laden with merchandise passed

FIRST CENTURY OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA

5

up and down the Khyber for trading centres from the Bay of Bengal to the Black Sea. More important than the overland route was the sea route by which trade was carried on between India and the West. In the beginning of the Christian era navigation between India and the Red Sea was difficult and dilatory; vessels usually sailed from the ports of Malabar hugging the coast up the Indian Ocean, round Arabia to the Red Sea and discharged the cargo at Bernice the Egyptian port from where it was transported by caravan to Alexandria and other Mediterranean centres. The cargo meant for Syria and Asia Minor was discharged at the ports of the Persian Gulf. This was a long and tedious voyage fraught with many dangers and interminable delays, but still the profits were good and the risks worth taking. And then the Egyptian mariner Hippaulus revolutionized maritime trade by his discovery of the regularity of the monsoon. By patient observation and study he found out that the wind blew in a westerly direction in the Indian Ocean for half the year and in an easterly direction during the other half. He wished to put his theories to the test, and trusting to the west wind the bold mariner plunged into the unknown sea and made straight for India (a voyage in its daring comparable to that of Columbus) and in the surprisingly short period of forty days reached India. Here he waited for the change in the direction of wind and when the wind started blowing from the east he sailed back to Bernice. This epoch making voyage opened up unforeseen possibilities for trade. Fleets laden with costly cargo began to sail regularly between Bernice and Indian ports, and the price of Indian luxuries was considerably reduced in the Mediterranean cities where even the common folk could afford them. Rome was the most important market for Indian goods at the time and the fashionable ladies of the Imperial City vied with one another for the possession of pearls and other precious goods from India. The craze for Indian luxuries brought forth some bitter comments from the watchdogs of the Empire. Pliny complained that India drained

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Rome annually to the extent of 55,000,000 sesterces* (about ^500,000) and the feminine fashions were in no small measure responsible for this huge drain. Petronius expressed horror at the immodesty of ladies of fashion who went about clad in 'webs of woven wind' as he termed the muslin imported from India. The principal ports of India at the time were Barygaza (Broach) at the mouth of the Narbadda, Kalyana in Northern Konkan, Tindis near modern Mangalore, Musiris (Muyiri Kotta, Malayalam, Musiri, Tamil; modern Cranganoor) and Nelcynda or Nirkunram farther south in the Pandyan kingdom. The main port of the Cholas on the east coast was Puhar or Kaveripatanam on the mouth of the Kaveri. The Cholas were a maritime people and they were mainly responsible for carrying Indian religion, culture and art to Indonesia. Of the ports on the west coast, the most important was Musiris. The Chera king had his capital at Tkuvanchikkulam not far from the harbour. The main exports of Musiris were pearls, precious stones of all kinds, ivory, silk in the web, Malabathrum, spices and the far famed pepper of Malabar, f * "Our ladies glory in having pearls suspended from their fingers, or two or as they knock against each other; and now, at the present day, the poorer classes are even affecting them as people are in the habit of saying that 'a pearl worn by a woman in public is as good as a Hctor walking before her'. Nay even more than this, they put them on their feet, and that not only on the laces of their sandals but aU over the shoes; it is not enough to wear pearls, but they must tread upon them, and walk with them under foot as well/ Again, "I once saw Lollia Paulina, the wife of the Emperor Caius—it was not any public festival or any solemn ceremonial, but only at an ordinary betrothal entertainment—covered with emeralds and pearls, which shone in alternate layers upon her head, in her hair, in her wreaths, in her ears, upon her neck, in her bracelets and on her fingers, and the value of which amounted in all to 40,000,000 sesterces; indeed she was prepared at once to prove the fact by showing the receipts and acquaintances." Pliny. "TTm,"moralizes the ancient,"is the price we pay tor our luxuries and our women." f It is interesting to speculate on the part the humble pepper creeper of Malabar has played in shaping world history. As is well known Columbus was on the look out for pepper when he stumbled on America. It was pepper that brought Vasco da Gama to Malabar; the subsequent interest the nations

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The flourishing trade between Rome and South India could not be carried on without close contact between the countries and regular diplomatic relations. Indian kings had trade agents in Bernice, Alexandria and Rome, and Roman Emperors in Indian ports and in Madura. On the occasion of the ascension of Augustus Caesar to the throne, the Pandyan king is known to have sent an embassy to congratulate the emperor. Two Roman cohorts were stationed in Musiris to look after the interests of Roman nationals and to keep the coast clear of the pirates that infested the Malabar coast at the time. Musiris had a Roman temple. The Pandyan kings, to add to their pomp, often kept Roman mercenaries as bodyguards and Tamil literature speaks of these strange soldiers as 'dumb Mlecchhas, with their long coats and armours, and their murderous souls, who might be seen acting as sentries at the palace gates/ Roman coins were legal tender in the ports and in Madura. Egyptians had no monopoly of the Indian trade. Side by side with the Egyptians traded Arabs, Syrians and Persians whose fleets too came to Indian ports. Nor did Indians always wait for the foreigners to come to them. The medieval taboo prohibiting sea voyages was not yet in force; if it already existed it was mainly confined to the Aryans, and Dravidians did not attach much importance to it. South Indians were good shipbuilders and seamen and wealthy traders outfitted sizable fleets of merchantmen and traded with the East and West. In Alexandria, the great emporium of the Roman Empire, Dravidian traders were a familiar sight. A strange story is related of a lone Indian sailor found in a ship by the guards of the coast of the Red Sea and produced in the court of the Egyptian monarch Euergetes (2nd century B.C.). He had sailed from India, and in the voyage his shipmates had perished. The Baveru Jataka bears further testimony to the fact that ancient Indians did not fight shy of navigating the ocean. of Western Europe took in Indian affairs and its far reaching effect on world civilisation are too well known to deserve mention here.

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The Chera kingdom is of particular interest to us. It was here that Apostle Thomas founded a Church which has survived the vicissitudes of centuries and has come down to us with increased strength and vitality. In the rich mythology of the Hindus the origin of Chera or Kerala is attributed to a miracle performed by the Brahmin warrior Parasurama. Parasurama is fabled to have destroyed the whole race of Kshatriyas because of the arrogance of this race and the cold-bloodedmurder of his father by one of them. After, the genocide Parasurama repented of his rashness that led to country-wide misery and in expiation wished to bestow a suitable gift on Brahmins. With this in view he ascended a peak at the northern extremity of the Western Ghats and threw his powerful battle-axe southwards into the ocean. The axe fell at Cape Comorin and a strip of land emerged from the sea which he named Chera and gave to Brahmins as a gift. Shorn of its mythical embellishments, the account indicates that Parasurama conquered the land and divided it among his Brahmin followers. The rulers of Kerala at that time were Nayars who were subjected to the Nambudiris as the Brahmin followers of Parasurama were called. The Nayars were treated well and they formed the martial class of Malabar while the Nambudiris remained the virtual rulers and sacerdotal hierarchy. Both the communities lived on cordial terms. While the Nambudiris lived on rent, the Nayars constituted the body of regular fighters and generals, and civil servants. The rest of the population were farmers, artisans and aborigines who lived in subjection to the Nambudiris and Nayars. The latter, though nominally Sudras, had, for all practical purposes the status of Kshatriyas, the soldier caste, second only to Brahmins. This social system has existed in Malabar from the very dawn of its history to the present day. In the beginning of the Christian era the Chera kingdom was an independent entity ruled by a king whose titular name was Perumal (literally the Great One). His powers were considerably limited by the assemblies of Nambudiris and Nayar nobles

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without whose concurrence he could do little. The state religion was Hinduism and Vedic ritual was strictly followed by the Nambudiris. Buddhism had been preached in the Chera kingdom and Asoka in his edicts claimed that Keralaputra was conversant with the Sacred Law and hospitals for the sick had been established in his kingdom on Buddhist models. But it is doubtful if the Law had any influence on the king or his people. There is, however, a legend which indicates that a Perumal became apostate to a 'Bauddha* faith' and had to abdicate. The date of this Perumal is unknown and the authenticity of the legend is still to be proved, the Muslims claiming that he was apostate to Islam and died in Mecca whereas the Christians maintain that he embraced Christianity and died at Mylapore to which place he repaired after his abdication. Anyway, at the time of the visit of St. Thomas the Nambudiris were the religious dictators of Malabar and the final authorities on social codes. Notions of caste were stretched to the extreme and Malabar, till recently, was the most caste-ridden country in India. Distance between man and man was rigidly measured; the plan of houses members of each caste were entitled to construct was laid down with meticulous care; the way of dressing hair, wearing clothes etc. were given in detail; the manner of speech and gestures during conversation and right of way when members of different castes met were all dealt with in the elaborate caste code of Malabar; and any lapse was punished with exemplary severity and even death. The distance a Nayar had to keep from a Nambudiri was arm's length. The artisan castes were untouchable to the Nayars and unapproachable by twenty-five paces to the Nambudiris. The Panchamas or aborigines were unapproachable by ten paces to the artisans, by twenty to the Nayars and by sixty to the Nambudiris. Some of the outcastes had to keep away from the Nayars and Nambudiris as far as individual notions of pollution dictated. And then there were the unlookables whose sight was pollution; * On the rise of Buddhism the word 'Bauddha* became synonymous with 'heretical* among the Hindus and does not indicate merely Buddhism.

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these naturally lived in the jungles feeding on edible roots and hunting lizards, and seldom ventured into villages. This social system which appears so iniquitous to the moderns was accepted as heaven-ordained in Malabar and had worked quite smoothly in spite of obvious defects. No castes seemed to mind their own humiliation as long as there were some other castes for them to humiliate. The 'unlookables' had the birds and beasts of the jungle. As the landed gentry of the land and keepers of the Vedas, the Nambudiris enjoyed powers and privileges which no other community on earth had enjoyed for so long in continuity. By a curious social system which permitted legal marriage only to the eldest son, the property of a Nambudiri family remained undivided from generation to generation, and from the time of Parasurama right down to the twentieth century the Nambudiri families and their property have come down practically intact. The country was well governed by the Perumal. From the volume of trade that passed through Musiris it is clear that the waterways and roads by which the pepper and spices of the hinterland were transported to the port were kept clear of highway men. The lowlands of Malabar produce nothing of worth except coconuts; the pepper and spices are grown in the interior. The farmers enjoyed considerable security of person and property. Once his social superiority was conceded, the Brahmin could be exceptionally generous and well-meaning, and he often cashiered the king if the well-being of farmers and tradesmen suffered through oppression or neglect. Musiris was a cosmopolitan port. Merchants of all nations were found there: Egyptians, Syrians, Arabs and Persians who came in their trading vessels with gold and implements of war for exchange with the produce of India; Chinese in their uncouth junks laden with bales of silk for exchange with Indian goods and the gold of the Westerners. Musiris was at that time the main transit emporium of trade between the West and Far East. Traders of all important nations had their settlements and factories at Musiris, as shipping was not regular and the cargo had to be

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stored awaiting the arrival of trading fleets. The ubiquitous Jew was already there, no one could say when and whence he came; but he had extensiva trade connections and a high standing in the PerumaTs court. It was, in fact, the Jewish settlement in Musiris that attracted St. Thomas to the port. Romans, as already mentioned, had a temple and two cohorts stationed in Musiris. The Perumal was a liberal in religious matters. All his subjects had freedom of worship. Though officially a Hindu, Buddhists and Jains had full liberty to preach their doctrines. So long as caste rules were not violated, Hinduism did not care much what a man believed or which god he worshipped.

CHAPTER II THE APOSTLES OF INDIA THE origin of Christianity in India is traced to Thomas Didymus, the Apostle. While most of Jesus' disciples confined their activities to the Mediterranean region, Thomas chose as his field of labour the distant and little known East with its strange people and stranger gods. He first preached the Gospel in Parthia, then in North-Western India and came by sea to Malabar. According to the traditions of Malabar he landed in Musiris in the year A.D. 52. The Apostle first addressed his message to the Jews of Malabar. The advent of the long awaited Messiah must have been welcome news to the sons of Israel living in Malabar in practical isolation. But it was not his own small community that interested the Apostle. Having got most of the Jews to accept his momentous message, Thomas boldly preached the Gospel to the people of Malabar, and the response was astonishing. Compared to the Apostles who had converted the Roman world, Thomas had an extremely difficult task before him. The Romans and Greeks were, no doubt, highly civilized races far in advance of the nations of the time in those sciences that lead to material prosperity. The Roman Empire was the wonder of the ancients and Greek culture was the wonder of the Romans themselves. But below the glittering surface of wondrous Rome was an abysmal void which all the art and ingenuity of Greece could not fill. The spirit of man grew sick of the eternal round of pleasures, both of the flesh and of the intellect, and yearned for something more substantial than gladiatorial shows, pleasure baths, theatres, fashion parades, art galleries filled with superb sculptures and exciting news of victories over Goths and Parthians. Greek philosophy did not meet the needs of the soul. It provided intellectual diversion to the idle and the inquisitive, but those 12

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who looked for light in a world of shadows found in the hairsplitting quibblings of the Greeks but futility and weariness of spirit. The gods of Romans and Greeks were the playthings of humans. And when Roman Emperors and their mistresses, some of whom notorious for their scandalous lives, claimed divine honours for themselves and had temples built in their honour, the people in general could not help feeling that they were better beings than their gods. The Roman world was crying for a religion that appealed to the soul of man and Christianity came to its aid. But in India things were quite different. Hinduism in its comprehensive synthesis catered to the needs of all. It had a hereditary sacerdotal hierarchy, well distributed throughout the length and breadth of the country, whose one occupation was the study, practice and preaching of religion. Things that did not have some relation with soul or life after death did not interest this hierarchy. Buddha's message of Ahimsa and forbearance had, under the able leadership of Asoka, permeated all Indian thought, and Buddhist missionaries were at work building the Aryan Path from Alexandria to Peking. Thus the Apostle of the East was not preaching to a world seeking spiritual guidance, but to a people intent on teaching others a spiritual way of life. Besides, far removed from the main centres of early Christianity he had to work in practical isolation. Hence the wonder is not that he did not meet with the phenomenal success that attended the labours of some of his compeers in the West, but rather that he achieved so much; for within a period of twenty years he claimed for his Master a large percentage of the population of South India including many high born Brahmins and ruling chiefs. The personality of the Apostle and his exemplary life must have been in no small measure responsible for his success. We know very little about Thomas's personality. He was not an intellectual of the calibre of St. Paul who had studied at the feet of Gamaliel, but a Galilean fisherman and as such no match for the Brahmins in the subtleties of polemics. Thomas was, however,

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a zealot as is evident from the Gospel account of his eagerness to go and die with the Master when the other disciples wavered. He was a staunch believer in the triumph of Christ, but the crucifixion and the Day of Disgrace stunned him. We know, on the authority of the Gospel, that the dismayed disciple flatly refused to believe in the Resurrection till he digged his finger in the wound of the Risen Christ. A legend says that the finger remained red ever afterwards. But once convinced, Thomas plunged into the Master's work with his old zeal and laid down his life for the Master. It was probably as an expiation for his original unbelief in the Resurrection that Thomas decided to court the hazards of evangelizing the East while his comrades remained to work on familiar ground. The traditions of Malabar Christians attribute the Apostle's success not to his polemic ability but to his saintly life and the miracles he performed. It may be mentioned here that arguments never won even Jesus Christ any adherents. Jesus was an adept in arguments and silenced many quibbling Scribes and Pharisees by His ready wit and knowledge of scriptures; but the defeated disputant did not remain to pray but went away to plot. This had probably a profound influence on Thomas; for we have few accounts of his discussions with the learned but a rich lore of the saintly life he lived and the miracles he performed in the Land of the Perumals. It is not clear if the Perumal himself was converted, but many of his near relatives were. The greatest success of the Apostle was in a city called Palur (the modern Chowghat in the Ponnani Taluk of the Malabar District) a busy centre of inland trade at the time. Palur was an important stronghold of Brahminism and most of the blueblooded Nambudiris of the Perumal's kingdom lived here. Pratically the whole Brahmin community of Palur was converted by the Apostle. This notable conversion of the most influential Brahmin community of Chera is attributed to a miracle. The Brahmins, so goes the story, were having their morning ablutions in the temple tank, when the Apostle passed that way. As is customary

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in ritual bathing, the Brahmins were repeating Vedic incantations and sprinkling water upwards by the cup of the palm. The Apostle wished to know of them why the Brahmins were doing this and was told that the water was thrown upwards as an offering to the gods. "In that case," said the Apostle, "your offerings do not seem to be acceptable to the Power Above. Otherwise the water would not have fallen back to the tank." This naturally elicited a retort and the Brahmins asked if the Sadhu from the West, as he was known among the Brahmins, could make the water drops stand in mid air. Thomas said he could, but he wovdd do so only if the Brahmins promised to accept his Master as the Saviour. The Brahmins agreed and the Apostle sprinkled water upwards and made the drops remain suspended in mid air glistening in the rays of the morning sun. Most of the leading Brahmins of Palur were baptized. A few did not accept the new faith and they cursed and abandoned Palur; ever since the place has been known as Chowghat (a corruption of the Malayalam Sapakkad, meaning Accursed Forest). The better classes of Malabar Christians of the present day trace their descent from the Palur Brahmins converted by the Apostle. Four families namely, Kalli, Kaliankavu, Sankarapuri and Pakalomattam were the most important among the Palur community, and sacerdotal classes in Malabar were drawn from these families from the time of the Apostle till the arrival of the Portuguese. The office of the Archdeacon was hereditary in the Pakalomattam family, and Malabar Christians trace the continuity of the family tradition from remote antiquity to the present day. It was to the Pakalomattam family that the Malabar Christians turned for Bishops after the historic Coonen Cross revolt of 1653 against Portuguese domination. The last of the male lineal descendants died in 1813 without leaving a male issue, but the main stock has left a prolific progeny through female and junior male descendants. St. Thomas preached throughout the length and breadth of the

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Chera kingdom, and the converts were many. He had seven churches built for the congregation: Cranganoor, Quilon, Parur, Niranam, Chayil and Palur. The original churches fell into ruins and had to be rebuilt; but the Apostolic origin of the present churches is strongly held by all Malabar Christians. After consecrating a near relative of the Perumal as the Bishop of Chera, St. Thomas left for China. We have very little knowledge of his activities in this country, but he returned to Malabar. He then crossed the Ghats to the kingdoms of Pandyan and Cholas and embarked on a strenuous course of Gospel work. Having by now obtained a thorough knowledge of the language and people of South India, and with a strongly established reputation for saindiness and well-organized church as a background in the Chera kingdom, the Apostle's labours in the Tamil kingdom produced remarkable results. People flocked to see him and to hear him preach. His saindiness became a byword in South India. Even those kings and nobles who did not accept the new faith evinced great regard for the Sadhu from the West, and he was revered all over the country as a teacher and messenger of God. He founded several Bishoprics in the Tamil country, and his following and influence became so great that the established religions of the land stood in danger of disintegration. This naturally roused the animosity of a great many Brahmins. We hear of false accusations and great miracles. One of these is particularly interesting as it shows the extent the Apostle's enemies were prepared to go to bring about his ruin. A widow belonging to a respectable family was found with child, and the infant, on birth, was killed. The crime came to the knowledge of the authorities and the woman was apprehended and asked to name her paramour. Persuaded by the enemies of the Apostle, the woman gave out the name of the man as the Sadhu from the West. The saint was summoned before the magistrate and on hearing of the false accusation the Apostle commanded the dead child to revive and give out the name of its father; which the child is said to have done exonerating the saint.

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False accusations and more open form of opposition to the saint and his teachings became more common and began to gain momentum as these were engineered by vested interests that stood to lose heavily if the old religion and its rich temples were abandoned by the people and the princes. Subtle and indirect forms of opposition proving of no avail, the enemies of the Apostle decided to remove him by the old, old method, and awaited an opportunity which soon presented itself. A Malayalam poem compiled by one Maliakkel Thomas towards the close of the i6th century from older works and the oral traditions of Malabar gives a graphic account of the martyrdom of the Apostle at Mylapore. The subject matter of the poem is the advent of St. Thomas and his activities in Malabar and elsewhere; the author says that it is the summary of an ancient work written by a disciple of the Apostle whom he claims as his 48th ancestor. The following is a free rendering of that portion of the quaint poem which deals with the martyrdom of the saint: "Mar Thoma, who had established the Way in several countries and regions of the earth, and whose laws were faithfully followed by the leaders and followers of the communities he had founded, was, in the early hours of the 3rd day of July 72, going on a journey and happened to pass by the Mount in Mylapore. Here stood a temple of Kali, and the priests of the temple, the bitter enemies of the Apostle, furiously issued forth from the temple and stopped the saint. " 'No man,' said they, 'shall pass this way without worshipping at the shrine; hence come with us and worship the goddess. If you do this, not only shall we let you pass this way unmolested but shall feed you sumptuously on delicacies.' " ' What?' replied Mar Thoma, 'Am I to sell my soul for a morsel of rice, and worship the devil? But if you insist I shall do your bidding and you shall see how your goddess will run away from her shrine and the temple itself be destroyed by fire.' " 'Do not utter blasphemy,' cried the priests, and they forced him to go to the temple.

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"As the saint approached the temple, a splendrous light shone forth and Kali ran out of the temple and the temple itself was consumed by fire. Thereupon, the infuriated priests fell upon Mar Thoma like mad animals. And one of them taking a long spear thrust it cruelly into the heart of the Apostle. After doing this evil deed, they ran away from the place for fear of the people. "Mar Thoma then knelt on a stone and prayed. Angels on wings carried news of the tragedy to the king and to the worthy Bishop Poulose. The king and the Bishop with a great following immediately reached the spot and saw the Apostle in a pool of blood with the fatal wound still fresh and the spear stuck to his side. Bishop Mar Poulose removed the spear, and as they were about to take the Apostle in their car for treatment, Mar Thoma spoke to them in a faint voice: 'No treatment is necessary for me now. The day of my great happiness is come/ He then spoke to the people who stood near him weeping, and three Nalikas* before sunset, the great Mar Thoma, alas! passed away." The body was buried in a nearby church and Mylapore ever since became a centre of pilgrimage for Christians in general and Asian Christians in particular. In Malabar the advent, labours and martyrdom of the Apostle constitute a living tradition, and the rich folklore, songs and dances of Malabar Christians describe in vivid detail the work of the Apostle in South India. Many a spot in the interior and coastal regions of Kerala is pointed out as hallowed by the footsteps of the First Messenger of Christ, and in the mountain fastness of Malayattoor, in the Union of Cochin and Travancore, is a church built on a spot where the saint used to retreat for spiritual communion with God. Here a feast is celebrated on the first Sunday after Easter and people from all over Malabar and distant Tamil districts flock to the place in pilgrimage. For the Christians of Malabar the belief in the Apostolic origin of their religion is almost an article of faith, and no serious student of Christianity in Malabar can doubt the validity of the tradition. Independent evidence also supports the authenticity of the * A Nalika is a time division of Malabar equivalent to 24 minutes.

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Indian tradition. All early Christian writers are agreed that Thomas is the Apostle of India. Jerome who wrote in the fourth century of the Christian era observes: "The Son of God was present to all places, with Thomas in India, with Peter in Rome, with Paul in Illyria, with Titus in Crete, with Andrew in Achaia, and with every preacher of the gospel in all the regions they traversed." Yes, 'Thomas in India* was an accepted fact. Some detailed account of the Apostle Thomas and his mission is found in the Acts of the Holy Apostle Thomas, an apocryphal work believed to be of Eastern origin. There is an interesting but miraculous account of how St. Thomas happened to undertake the mission to India. After the Ascension of Christ, Thomas was spending his anxious days in Jerusalem not knowing where and how to begin his mission. One day while he was wandering by the Market Place he happened to meet Abbanes, the trade agent of king Gundaphoros, and fell into conversation with him. Abbanes told the Apostle that he was on the look out for a good architect to build a palace for Gundaphoros who was interested in foreign styles and was willing to pay handsome remuneration for a really good architect. Well, Thomas was a fisherman and knew little about architecture. But as the two were conversing, Jesus miraculously appeared on the scene dressed as a citizen of the place and joined the conversation. Jesus recommended Thomas to Abbanes as a good architect, and Thomas who recognized the Master took the hint and agreed to accompany Abbanes to India. Reaching India, the architect was introduced to Gundaphoros who questioned him on the art and science of architecture. Thomas's knowledge of architecture seemed profound and the king engaged him immediately and asked him to submit a plan. The plan was duly submitted and it was even better than the king expected. So the king entrusted the architect with the necessary funds for building the palace, and on receiving an assurance that the palace would be ready within six months, went on a long journey so that he could, on return, gaze on the wondrous structure in its virgin freshness.

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After six months Gundaphoros returned but found no palace. In the king's absence the architect had given away the money to the poor and the needy and spent his time in preaching the Gospel. The enraged monarch summoned the Apostle to his presence and asked him where the promised palace was. "I have built the palace," was the calm reply, "but you cannot see it just now. It is in heaven and you shall repair to it after death." Well, the king had no patience to wait and die evasive architect was thrown into prison. But that night a strange thing happened. The king's brother Gad died suddenly and in the early hours of the morning the shades of the departed one appeared before Gundaphoros and reported the existence of a beautiful palace in heaven built t>y angels and kept reserved for Gundaphoros. Gundaphoros immediately repented, released the Apostle, and embraced Christianity. The story in a slightly different form is current among Malabar Christians too. The account of the apocryphal writer, though no doubt inspired by a love of the miraculous, has an element of truth in it. For though long rejected as a figment of the imagination, the discovery in India of coins bearing the bust and name of king Gundaphoros lent considerable support to the story. The discovery was made in the nineteenth century, but unfortunately we know very little about Gundaphoros except that he was an Indo-Scythian who ruled in Norths-Western India. It is quite probable that the Apostle travelled by the overland route to the domains of Gundaphoros and preached the gospel in his kingdom before South India claimed him. It may be mentioned in this connection that Parthia was also associated with the Apostle's activities. There were in Persia and Afganistan, at that time under the Parthians, considerable numbers of Jews of the Dispersion and the anxiety of the Apostle to communicate to his countrymen the Glad Tidings of the advent of the Messiah must have led him to these regions first. To this day many tribesmen of the Indo-Afghan border claim their descent from Israel.

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After preaching die gospel in Gundaphoros' kingdom, other countries claimed the Apostle's attention. A zealot of Thomas's energy could not find peace as long as a single country remained ignorant of the life and teachings of the Master. The anarchical conditions then prevailing in Hindustan proper and news of the existence of numerous Jewish communities on the ports of the West Coast must have influenced the Apostle's decision to proceed to the Malabar Coast from the kingdom of Gundaphoros. By whichever route the Apostle reached Musiris, it is fairly certain that he preached the gospel in Afghanistan, the Punjab and Sind. Mysterious rumours of the existence of isolated Christian communities persisted through ages down to medieval times and a Jesuit Mission working in Mogul India actually undertook a perilous journey to the mountains of Hindu Kush to locate these communities. They did not, it is true, find these Christian communities. The probabilities are that St.' Thomas founded several Christian communities in the North-West, the Punjab and Sind and through centuries of political turmoil, isolation and neglect these communities dwindled into insignificance. An Eastern tradition, while supporting the Indian belief of the martyrdom and burial of the Apostle in Mylapore, mentions that the body was transferred from its original resting place to Edessa (Urfah) on the Euphrates valley, then an important centre of Eastern Christianity. In this city was celebrated annually on the 3rd July a great festival to commemorate the translation of the relics. Of the hymns sung on the occasion, the following, believed to have been composed by Ephraem, a famous doctor of the Eastern Church who lived in the fourth century of the Christian era, would be of interest: Blessed art Thou, Thomas the Twin, in thy deeds! twin is thy spiritual power: not one thy power, not one thy name; But many and signal are they; renowned is thy name among the Apostles. From my lowly state, thee I haste to sing.

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Blessed art thou, like unto the solar ray from the great orb; thy grateful dawn India's painful darkness doth dispel. Thou the great lamp, one among the Twelve, with oil from thy cross replenished, India's night floodest with light. Blessed art thou, whom the Great King hath sent; that India to His One-Begotten thou shouldst espouse; above snow and linen white, thou the dark bride didst make fair. Blessed art thou, whom the unkempt hast adorned, that having become beautiful and radiant, to her spouse she might advance. Blessed art thou, who hast faith in the bride, whom from heathenism from demon's errors and from enslavement to sacrifices thou didst rescue. Her with saving hath thou cleanest, the sunburnt thou hast made fair, the Cross of Light her darkened shades effacing. Blessed art thou, O thrice-blessed city! that hast acquired this pearl, none greater doth India yield: Blessed art thou, worthy to possess the priceless gem! Praise to thee, O gracious Son, who thus thy adorers dost enrich!* Of the translation of the Apostle's body to Edessa Bishop Gregory of Tours who lived in the sixth century of the Christian era writes: "Thomas the Apostle, according to the history of his passion, is declared to have suffered in India. After a long time his blessed body was taken into the city which they called Edessa, in Syria and there buried. Therefore in that Indian place where he first rested there is a monastery and a church of wonderful size, and carefully adorned and arranged. And in this temple God exhibits a great miracle. For a lamp which is placed in it and lighted before the place of his burial, burns by the Divine Will by night and by day, receiving from no one a supply of oil or wick; neither is it extinguished by the wind nor overset by accident, nor is it ex* Medlycot.

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hausted by its burning. And it has its supply through the merit of the Apostle." It is remarkable that local tradition knows nothing about the translation of the body to Edessa, but has always held that the body of the Apostle remains to this day at its original resting place in Mylapore. Further, the Portuguese who took possession of the site claim to have discovered in 1523 some bones of the skull and of the spine in the grave. It is probable that some relics were removed to Edessa but not the whole body. And it is but reasonable to assume that the translation of the relics and the celebration of the feast were calendared to fall on the date of the Apostle's martyrdom. The fame of the miraculous powers of the relics of St. Thomas spread throughout Christendom. Before the ninth century it had definitely reached England. For in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle we find reference to the fulfilment of a vow made by King Alfred by the power of which he overcame the Danes. According to this document, in the year 883 "Sighlem, Bishop of Shireburn, and Aethalstan conveyed to Rome the alms which the king had vowed to send hither, and also to India to St. Thomas and St. Bartholomew, when they sat down against the army at London; and there, God be thanked, their prayer was very successful after that vow." It is related that the worthy Bishop with his company visited the tomb of St. Thomas and returned to England with spices and other cargo from India. The reference to St. Bartholomew is significant. Though St. Thomas is generally believed to be the Apostle of India and there is no Indian tradition about Bartholomew's visit, there are references to his mission to India in early Christian writings. Pantaenus, the famous Alexandrian philosopher, is believed to have visited India in the second century of the Christian era and found a community of Christians who traced their origin to St. Bartholomew. Eusebius of Caesarea writing in the fourth century observes: "About the same time (A.D. 180) the school of the faithful at Alexandria was governed by a man most distinguished for his learning, whose name was Pantaenus: as there had been a

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school of sacred learning established there from ancient times, which has continued down to our own times and which we have understood was held by men able in eloquence and the study of divine things. For the tradition is that this philosopher was then in great eminence as he had been first disciplined in the philosophical principles of those called Stoics. But he is said to have displayed such ardour, and so zealous a disposition respecting the divine word that he was constituted a herald of the gospel of Christ to the nations of the East; and advanced as far as India. For there were still many evangelists of the word, who were ardently striving to employ their inspired zeal after the apostolic example, to increase and build up the divine word. Of these Pantaenus is said to have come as far as the Indies. And the report is that he there found his arrival anticipated by some who were there acquainted with the gospel of Matthew to whom Bartholomew, one of the apostles, had preached and had left them the Gospel of Matthew in the Hebrew characters, which was also preserved until this time. Pantaenus, after many praiseworthy deeds, was finally at the head of the Alexandrian school commenting on the treasure of divine truth, both orally and in his writings."* Jerome has also a reference to Pantaenus; "Pantaenus, a philosopher of the Stoic sect . . . was a man of so great prudence and of so great erudition, as well in the divine scripture as in secular literature, that he was also sent to India by Demetrius, Bishop of Alexandria, at the request of the ambassadors of that nation. There he found that Bartholomew, one of the twelve apostles had preached the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ according to the Gospel of Matthew, which written in Hebrew characters, he brought with him on his return to Alexandria."! It may appear strange that the Christian tradition of Malabar and South India knows nothing of the visit of St. Bartholomew to India, and stranger still that Pantaenus has nothing to say of St. Thomas and the Christian communities he had founded. This * Quoted in Apostles of India. f Ibid.

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has led some historians to suppose that the country Pantaenus visited was not India but some region then confused with India. It is true that some ancient writers had but an inadequate conception of the geographical position of India and often confused Arabia and Central Asia with India; but others like Pliny had a fairly accurate idea of the geography of India. Jerome at least knew what he was talking about. For he mentions that "Pantaenus, on account of the rumour of his excellent learning was sent by Demetrius into India that he might preach Christ among the Brahmins and philosophers of that nation." Brahmins certainly did not exist anywhere except India. Rufinus, a contemporary of Jerome, also bears testimony to the fact that India was the portion allotted to Bartholomew when the Apostles divided the world for mission work. "In that division of the world made by the Apostles for the preaching of the word of God, by drawing lots, while different provinces fell to different Apostles, Parthia fell to Thomas, to Matthew fell Ethiopia, and the 'Citerior India' adherent to it is said to have fallen to Bartholomew. Placed between this Citerior India and Parthia but far to the interior, lies 'Ulterior India* inhabited by peoples of many and diverse tongues." To the Romans and Greeks 'Citerior India' was the coastal region of Western India and Konkan and Fr. Perumalil and following him Fr. Heras are of opinion that North Konkan was the scene of Bartholomew's activities.* We must remember that in the 2nd century of the Christian era it was possible for one Christian community to exist in some part of India without knowing of the existence of their brethren elsewhere in the Peninsula. It is definitely known that there were Christians in India in regions other than the South and the Malabar Coast. The celebrated Cosmas of Alexandria, called the Indian Voyager because of his extensive trade relations with India, found the Church "very widely diffused, and the whole world filled with the doctrine of Christ which is being day by day propagated and the Gospel preached over the whole earth. This, as I have seen * The Two Apostles of India by the Rev. Henry Heras S.J.

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with my own eyes in many places and have heard narrated by others, I, as a witness of the truth relate. In the island of Taprobane (Ceylon) in further India, where the Indian Sea is, there a church of Christians where clergy and faithful are to be found; whether also further beyond, I am not aware. Such also is the case in the land called Male where the pepper grows. And in the place called Kalliana there a Bishop usually ordained in Persia, as well as in the isle called the Isle of Dioscroris (Socotra) in the same Indian Sea." There were Christians also in the Maldive Islands. According to Philostorgius who lived in the fourth century of the Christian era, one Theophilus the Indian visited his native land as the head of an embassy of Christians sent by Constantius. This Theophilus was a native of Divus, the ancient name of the Maldive Islands. Theophilus is said to have introduced certain reforms in the Divus Church, but little else is known about him. Both Father Perumalil and Heras are of opinion that modern Kalyan, in North Konkan, (now a suburb of Bombay, but a port of considerable importance in ancient India and probably Kalliana of Cosmas) was the centre of Bartholomew's activities. According to St. Bede he arrived at the place dressed as a Sadhu and started preaching in the chief temple of the city and performed many miracles. He has also left us a pen portrait of the Apostle. "He has black hair, his complexion is white, his eyes are large, his nostrils equal and straight, his ears are covered with the locks of hair from his head, he has a long beard with very few grey hairs. His body is of a proportionate size, neither very tall nor very short. He goes dressed in a white garment. He prays a hundred times during the day and as many times during the night; his voice is like the sound of a bugle. The angels of God accompany him nor do they allow him to undergo fatigue or thirst. He is always in the joy of God, day and night; he foresees everything and speaks and understands all tongues." The Apostle preached in the country and converted Polymius the king who gave orders for the removal of the idol of'Astaruth' from the chief temple of the city. This enraged the enemies of

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the Apostle and they prevailed upon 'Astreges' brother of Polymius to persecute and behead the Apostle. Fr. Perumalil identifies Astaruth with Ashtamurti, a name of Shiva, and Astreges with Arishtakarman and Polymius with Pulomavi of the Puranas. The Church Bartholomew founded did not have the same good fortune as that attended the labours of his compeer farther south. The existence of the Christians of Bartholomew was known to early Christian writers but in India itself no tradition is left of this community. In the year 1321, the Dominican Missionary Jordanus and four Franciscans visited Thana, where the Franciscans were martyred, but Jordanus' account is not quite clear whether he had found any Christians of Bartholomew in the region. But we know for a fact that when the Portuguese arrived at the site two centuries later they found no Christians there and heard no traditions concerning St. Bartholomew. Now to revert to St. Thomas. The first European to visit the shrine of St. Thomas and leave an authentic account was the famous Venetian traveller Marco Polo. During his extensive travels in the East, he visited the Coromandel Coast, then known to Europeans as Ma'bar, in the 13th century and has recorded the following: "The body of Messer Saint Thomas the Apostle lies in the province of Ma'bar at a certain town having no great population, 'tis a place where few traders go because there is very little merchandise to be got there and it is a place not very accessible. Both Christians and Saracens, however, greatly frequent it in pilgrimage. For the Saracens also do hold the saint in great reverence and say that he was one of their own Saracens and a great prophet, giving him the tide of 'Avarian' which is as much to say 'Holy Man'. The Christians who go thither in pilgrimage take of the earth from the place where the saint was killed and give a portion thereof to any one who is sick of a quarton or tertian fever; and by the power of God and of St. Thomas the sick man is continently cured. . . . The Christians who have charge of the Church have a great number of Indian nut trees,

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whereby they get their living: and they pay to one of those brother kings six groats for each tree every month.'** Marco Polo also mentions an interesting local tradition that St. Thomas was accidentally killed by a hunter who was shooting peacocks in a wood where the saint was meditating. Because of this accidental offence, "none of the poor man's tribe could ever enter the place where the saint lay buried. Nor could twenty men force them in nor ten hold them there on account of the virtue of that sacred body." The story was probably invented by local Brahmins who did not wish to be known as the descendants of the murderers of a man held in great esteem throughout the land. The Christian community of whom Marco Polo speaks died away soon after his visit. For when the Portuguese took over the shrine they found few Christians there and the lamp at the shrine itself was tended by a Muslim watchman, which, however, testifies to Marco Polo's observation that the saint was held in great veneration by the Muslims.

* Yule's edition.

CHAPTER III THE EARLY MALABAR CHURCH THE communities St. Thomas founded in the Chola and Pandyan kingdoms did not long survive the zeal of his enemies. But in the Chera kingdom the Church flourished. The cause of the practical annihilation of the Christian communities in the Pandyan and Chola kingdoms is said to be persecution. But persecution alone does not explain the facts fully. Hindu kings have always been known to be tolerant towards religious persuasions other than their own, and ancient South Indian monarchs were remarkably so. Hence the probabilities are that political motives rather than religious persecution were responsible for the disappearance of the Christian communities in the Chola and Pandyan kingdoms. The Cheras, Cholas and Pandyans were at constant war with one another and the fortunes of war varied. All accounts show that the Chera king had a powerful ally in the Christian merchants of Musiris who had extensive trade relations with the West and the island of Ceylon. They were in a position to advance the Chera king large sums of money and supply him with arms in his campaigns against the Pandyans, and his independence and prestige were in no small measure dependent on the friendship of the Christians. The needs of the times also imbued warlike qualities in the Malabar Christians and they became well known as a military class able to give solid support to the Perumal in his campaigns against his enemies. Thus the Christians as a community began to be considered as the allies of the Cheras. Among newly formed communities, as is well known, communal feelings are exceptionally strong and the Pandyans and Cholas distrusted the Christians of their own kingdom. This was probably the real cause of the hostility of Pandyans and Cholas towards Christians who enjoyed the patronage of the Cheras. B* 29

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Whether the Apostle gave the South Indian Church a Dravidian or Syrian liturgy is not known. From all accounts it is clear that the Apostle did not interfere with the time honoured customs of the Indian congregation. Notions of social distinctions as embodied in caste were not discarded. In the manner of dress, usages and language Indian Christians were allowed to follow their own traditions. The only innovation was in the name: the Christians were known as Nazranis, or followers of the Nazarene, a term still used in all government documents in the Union of Travancore and Cochin. The Apostle's main emphasis was on his followers accepting Christ as the Saviour and the Cross as the mark of the Nazrani. Hence the probabilities are that St. Thomas gave the primitive Indian church a simple Dravidian liturgy which they could understand and appreciate. From the time of the Apostle's martyrdom till the fourth century of the Christian era very little is known about the state of Christianity in India. But in the fourth century an epoch making event which put Christianity on a firm footing in India took place. This was the immigration into Malabar of a large colony of Syrians under the leadership of a merchant prince called Canai Thoma or Thomas of Canaan. According to the traditions of Malabar the Bishop of Uraha (Edessa) had a vision of St. Thomas who commanded him to send someone to tend his flock in Malabar. Historians are of opinion that the immediate cause of the emigration of the Syrians was persecution at home. Whatever the motive of the exodus, the arrival of the powerful colonists raised the strength and prestige of the Malabar Church. Canai Thoma is revered as the Father of the Nation by the Christians of Malabar who follow the Syrian rite. The merchant was a remarkable man. His personality and wealthy following impressed the Perumal. The Perumal also realized the advantage of having in his country a colony of able foreigners well known for their commercial acumen and whose name commanded respect in the markets of the world. Thoma had extensive trade connections with the great ports of the Mediterranean, Persian Gulf and the Indian Sea. It is more than probable that Thoma's

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agents were important personages in Musiris and he himself had visited the port and the Perumal. Anyway, he received a royal welcome from the Perumal and the colonists were treated with the greatest deference. For their residence was allotted a suburb of Musiris which they named Mahadevar Patanam or the City of the Great God. In course of time Mahadevar Patanam became second in importance only to Tiruvanchikkulam where the Perumal himself had his residence. The exodus of the Syrians took place in the year A.D. 345. Thoma brought with him seventy-two families consisting of about 400 members including a Bishop named Joseph and several priests. These Syrian immigrants were not treated as untouchable foreigners by the high born Malabar Christians (which was their attitude towards the Portuguese when these came to Malabar at a later date) but as the countrymen of Mar Iso (Lord Jesus) and Mar Thoma (Lord Thomas) and as such worthy of the greatest honour and respect. The Syrians and Malabar Christians soon entered into matrimonial relations and merged into a single community. Canai Thoma himself married a Christian lady from Malabar. The standing of Canai Thoma with the Perumal was very high. His vast resources and personal ability won for him many honours from the Perumal. He was a trusted adviser of the Perumal. In all commercial matters his counsel was supreme and he was the virtual dictator of the commercial policy of the monarch. He was given the monopoly of inland and foreign trade and on this account Thoma and his descendants were given the title of Perum Chetty or Great Merchant; because of the splendour of his princely household Thoma and his heirs were also known as Ravi Kartan (Lord Sun) or in common parlance Iravi Kortan. Many a Malayalam ballad describes in glowing terms the greatness of Canai Thoma and the prosperity that descended on die PerumaTs kingdom because of the alliance between the king and the merchant prince. Thoma's voice was supreme in the councils of the ruler and very often he dined with the Perumal. During the feasts in the court Thoma was served on double

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leaves, a regal privilege, in memory of which Malabar Christians to this day fold the ends of the leaves from which they eat on ceremonial occasions. An old song tells us how Thoma and his descendants came to be the lords of the five castes of artisans in Malabar. An intercommunal marriage against the traditional usages of the castes was forced on one of the five castes by the Perumal, and all the five castes made a joint protest. The Perumal took no notice of the grievance and the castes decided to abandon their native land. By a well-organized secret plan, they put out boldly into the sea and almost overnight sailed away to an unknown destination. Because of the exodus the arts and crafts suffered. A man's occupation was forged to his caste and no other castes would undertake the work of the artisans. No houses could be built or repaired in the Perumal's land and the old song tells us that the lizard and the white ant reigned on the throne of the Perumal himself. His palace was fast falling into ruins. In this predicament the Perumal turned to Thoma, and the merchant undertook the difficult and delicate task of tracing and reclaiming the lost castes. Thoma was a great sailor and he fitted out a fleet and set sail in search of the deserters. Fortunately he had not to sail far; for he found them in the island of Simhala (Ceylon). Thoma was a well-known figure in the ports of Simhala and had no difficulty in persuading the king of this place to give permission to the castes to return. They were promised pardon and recognition of their traditional usages. They were not, however, satisfied with this but wanted the protection and patronage of the powerful merchant. Thoma agreed to be their leader and spokesman and on this condition the castes returned to Musiris with Thoma. In recognition of this signal service of Thoma, the Christians were made lords of these castes. It is interesting to note that to this day at the time of wedding in a well-to-do Christian family in Malabar a member of the tailor caste sings an old song dwelling upon the greatness and achievements of the bridegroom's illustrious ancestor and receives a ceremonial present from him.

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The Syrians brought a new vigour to the Malabar Church. The Bishop and the clergy organized the church and introduced the Syrian liturgy. From now on the Nazranis began to be known as Syrian Christians. Churches sprang up throughout the length and breadth of the Perumars kingdom and Canai Thoma and his followers endowed them magnificently. A regular flow of clergy and Bishops was kept up from Syria. Under the able guidance of the Syrians who were happily free from many of the superstitions regarding dress, diet and occupation, the Malabar Christians while retaining their military traditions also took to business and agriculture. With Thoma and his men controlling the export and import trade of Musiris, the inland trade of Malabar soon passed into the hands of the Syrian Christians. The fashionable imitated some of the Syrian customs such as using carpets and curtains in the houses, and wearing turbans and robes. The Malabar Christians adopted the Syrian usage of shaving their heads clean. The good relations that existed between the Perumal and Canai Thoma continued among their descendants. Ravi Kartan of Musiris, the heir to the title of Thoma, enjoyed monopoly of trade from generation to generation and his power and prestige waned only after domination of the Indian Sea by the Muslims. There were also fresh immigrants from Syria but none proved so powerful as Thoma and his men. Several Syrian Christian celebrities, by their signal service to the state secured exceptional privileges for themselves and their community, and the Syrians came to be respected and feared by all. Some of the copper plate grants given to the Syrians have come down to modern times and throw a flood of light on the status of the community which had been incorporated in the social scheme of Malabar. One of the existing plates was granted by the Emperor Vira Raghava Perumal to the reigning Iravi Kortan of Cranganoor in the year A.D. 774 on the occasion of the gift of the principality of Manigramam for some important service he had rendered the Perumal, the exact nature of which is not known. The inscription is thus translated:

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"Hari! Prosperity! Adoration to the great Ganapathy! On the day of the Nakshatra Rohini, a Saturday after the expiration of the twenty-first day of the solar month Mina (of the year during which) Jupiter was in the sign of Makara (Pisces) while the glorious Vira Raghava Chakravarti of the race that has been wielding the sceptre for several thousands of years in succession from the glorious king of kings, the glorious Vera Kerala Chakravartin was ruling prosperously: "While we were pleased to reside in the great palace, we conferred the title of Manigramam on Iravi Kortan alias Cheraman Loka Perum Chetty of Mahadevar Pattanam. "We also gave him the right of festive clothing, house pillars, the income that accrues, the export trade, monopoly of trade, the right of proclamation, forerunners, the five musical instruments, the conch, the lamp in day time, the carpet, the palanquin, the royal parasol, the drum, the gateway with ornamental arch, and monopoly of trade in the four quarters. "We also gave the oil mongers and the five classes of artisans as slaves. "We also gave with the libation of water (caused it to be) written on a copper plate to Iravi Kortan who is the Lord of the City, the brokerage on articles that may be measured with the para, weighed by the balance or measured with the tape, that may be counted or weighed, and on all other articles between the river mouth of Kodungalloor and the gate chiefly between the four temples and the privileges attached to each temple. "We gave this as property of Cheraman Loka Perum Chetty alias Iravi Kortan, and his children and children's children in due succession. "The witnesses who know this are:—We gave it with the knowledge of the villagers of Panniyur and the villagers of Soigram. We gave it with the knowledge of the authorities of Venadu and Odunadu.We gave it with the knowledge of the authorities of Eranadu and Valluavanadu. We gave it for the time that the moon and the sun shall exist. "The handwriting of Cheraman Loka Perum Dattan Nambi

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Sadayan, who wrote this copper plate with the knowledge of all these witnesses." Another plate, still extant, was granted by a Perumal named Sthanu Ravi Gupta to Maruvan Sapor Iso, the Syrian founder of Quilon, who transferred certain privileges conferred on him by the Perumal to a Parish church with due legal formality. The copper plates and the living traditions of Malabar show that the Christians as a community held a very high social position under the Perumals and their descendants, the rulers of Cochin. At the time of the arrival of the Portuguese their privileges were many: , * "They were numbered among the noble classes of Malabar. 'They were preferred to the Nayars and enjoyed the privileges of being called by no other name than that of the sons of kings. They were permitted to wear gold tresses in the hair locks in marriage feasts, to ride on elephants and to decorate the floor with carpets/ They were entrusted with the protection of the artisan classes. Their servants had charge of the coconut plantations, and if they were molested by any one or if their occupation was otherwise interfered with they appealed to the Christians who protected them and redressed their grievances. The Christians were directly under the king and were not subject to local chiefs. A Hindu doing violence to a Christian had his crime pardoned only in the case of his offering to the church a hand either of gold or silver according to the seriousness of the offence, as otherwise the crime was expiated in blood. They never saluted any one below their own rank, because it was dishonourable to their status. When they walked along the road they saluted others at a distance, and if anybody refused to reciprocate it, he was put to death. The Nayars who were of the military clan regarded them as brethren and loved them exceedingly. All communities had special men-at-arms called Amouchi who were bound on oath to safe-guard the people or places under their protection even at the cost of their lives. They (the Amouchi) respected the Christians before whom they never ventured to sit unless invited * Anantakrishna Ayyar, Anthropology o the Syrian Christians.

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to do so. They were very strong and powerful and their Bishops were respected and feared like kings. To erect a playhouse was the privilege of kings and the same privilege was given to the Christians also. They were given seats by the side of kings and their chief officers. Sitting on carpets, a privilege enjoyed by the ambassadors was also conceded to them. In the i6th century when the Rajah of Parur wished to concede the privilege to the Nayars in his dominion, the Syrian Christians resented and immediately declared war against him if he persisted. Conscious of his inability to enforce his will, in opposition to theirs, he was obliged to leave matters on their ancient footing. The immunity and honours above mentioned, rendered the dignity of their Bishop very considerable. "The Syrian Christians were almost on a par with their sovereigns. They were allowed to have a military force of their own which was composed chiefly of Shanars, the caste that cultivated the palm tree. Besides the Brahmins, they were the only inhabitants of the country who were permitted to have enclosures in front of their houses. 'In front of their girdle they were accustomed to formerly carry a long metal handle; sometimes the handle was made of gold and beautifully worked. From the end of the handle were suspended chains of the same metal to one of which was fastened a steel, with which to sharpen the poniard; to another a small metal box which contained quicklime. This lime was prepared in a peculiar manner to improve the flavour of the betel which they in common with all other natives of India both men and women, were continually chewing. " 'In former times they seldom appeared abroad without being well armed. Besides the poniard just mentioned, a few carried matchlocks or rude muskets; others would bear lance at the end of which were suspended steel rings, which made an agreeable sound when the lance was in motion. But the greater part of them carried only a naked sword in the right hand and a buckler in the left arm. They were trained in the use of these weapons at the early age of eight years, and continued to exercise them till twenty-five which accounted for their using them with such

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dexterity. They were very expert huntsmen, soldiers, and they were therefore held in much estimation by the rulers of the country. A native prince was respected or feared by his neighbours according to the number of Syrians in his dominions'." The patronage of the Perumals was in no small measure responsible for the prosperity and prestige of the Syrian Christians and they have ever been grateful to the Perumals and their descendants. But it is worth our while to remember that the exalted social status and privileges granted to the Syrians and their elevation in the social scale above the Nayars, the traditional military class from whom the chiefs and generals of the Perumars army were drawn, could not have been a matter of mere charity. The last sentence in the above quotation is particularly significant. The Christians were staunch allies and loyal subjects of the Perumal and were a source of great military and monetary strength to the Perumal. It is doubtful if the Chera kingdom would have existed as an independent entity so near the powerful Pandyans without the help of the Christians and it is quite probable that the fate that befell the Cholas would have overtaken the Cheras too but for the active support of the Syrian Christians. According to the traditions of Syrian Christians, there existed an independent Christian kingdom in Malabar called Valiar Vattam. Valiar Vattam kings ruled for several centuries till the kingdom was ceded to Diamper as the last Valiar Vattam king died without a male issue. It appears the first Valiar Vattam king was a converted relative of the Rajah of Diamper and according to the laws of succession Valiar Vattam left without a male heir had to merge into Diamper. The Syrians, however, preserved the royal emblems of Valiar Vattam and presented them to Vasco da Gama on his arrival in Cochin as a token of their friendship and regard for the king of Portugal. An Arabian traveller who visited Malabar in the ninth century also mentions a 'Christian Emir living near Cranganoor'. It is interesting to note in this connection that in the year 1439, Pope Eugene IV despatched envoys to this Christian king of India and the letter of introduction begins as follows:

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"To my most beloved son in Christ, Thomas the illustrious Emperor of the Indians, health and Apostolic benediction. There often has reached us a rumour that your serenity and also all who are the subjects of your kingdom are true Christians " Travellers appear to have exaggerated the importance of the Valiar Vattam king considerably, but his existence ^vas a fact. The rise of Islam and the dominance of the Indian Sea by Muslims put the affairs of the Syrian Christians in a bad way. The seaborne trade of Malabar passed from the Christians to the Muslims. There was considerable animosity between the two, and the flow of Bishops from Syria was obstructed by the Muslims. Persecution bewildered the Christian communities of Western Asia and only those Bishops who had the approval of their Muslim rulers were permitted to occupy their sees. The political upheavals in Syria and Persia had their repercussions in Malabar too. Christian fleets disappeared from die trade routes, and Muslims captured the trade of the Malabar ports. Their powerful connections in the ports of India and the Persian Gulf and their influence in the great Muslim courts of the world made the Perumals court their favours. They were also in a position to chastise an unobliging Perumal. Cranganoor was sacked by the Arabs and the centre of trade shifted to the newly risen port of Calicut in the north. The authority of the Perumal himself waned. Rebellion and insurrection ravaged the hitherto peaceful land of the Perumals. Chieftain warred against chieftain and the Arabs plundered the ports and lowlands. Independent principalities sprang up everywhere. This state of anarchy continued for some time till Malabar settled down to the three large size independent kingdoms of Kozhikkod (Calicut), Cochin and Travancore. Of these Kozhikkod under its titular rulers called Samoothiri (Zamorin) was a staunch ally of the newly risen Muslim power, Cochin an ally of the old but broken Christian power at constant enmity with Kozhikkod, and Travancore an insignificant principality in the south not much in the limelight of contemporary power politics. This was roughly the position when the Portuguese came to India.

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It is remarkable that the Syrian Christians during these periods of confusion managed to maintain their high social status and enjoy practical monopoly of the inland trade. Bishops often came from Western Asia, though not regularly. Through Syrian contact a system of Church government was evolved in which Bishops were to be of foreign extraction especially from the then wellknown centres of Christianity in Western Asia but internal administration was carried on by the Archdeacons. Pending the arrival of Bishops, the Archdeacons were the virtual rulers of the community. The office of the Archdeacon, as we have already seen, was hereditary in the Pakalomattam family of Apostolic origin. Though dissensions had often threatened the unity of the Church, the system had worked fairly well and the Portuguese when they tried to interfere with it stirred up a veritable hornets' nest, as we shall see presently. A word may here be said about the vexed question of whether or not the Malabar Church had remained formally subject to Rome before the arrival of the Portuguese. Sectarian prejudices have obscured historical facts and a heated controversy has been raging for years on the subject; from the temper of the disputants the controversy, it appears, will continue till the Second Coming. It is true that in the Nicene Council held in A.D. 325, India was represented and one of the dignitaries who signed the decrees was 'John, Bishop of Persia and Great India'. Whether he was an Indian or Persian is not known, but it is more likely that he was a Persian. Little else is known about this Bishop. The Catholics are of opinion that the Bishops of Malabar were ordained and sent by the successors of John, and they brought with them the Syro-Chaldean liturgy. In the fourth century, however, the Nestorian doctrine of the dual nature of Christ's Person gained ground, but a section of Christians refuting Nestorius propounded the monophysite dogma of the single nature and person of Christ while the Catholics held the middle dogma of the singleness of Christ's Person but the duality of His Nature. For the few centuries that succeeded, Christendom was torn asunder by conflicts between the followers

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of these divergent views. To a non-Christian these differences might appear slight, but the feelings these generated were great. People were hunted, excommunicated and killed; Bishops warred on Bishops; and few shpwed any Christian charity towards their opponents. Finally the Nestorians and Monophysites broke off with Rome and under the patronage of Muslim rulers who were inimical with the Roman world gained considerable influence in Asia. Persia became a great stronghold of Nestorians. Jacobus Zanzalus who organised the Monosphysites in his capacity as the Patriarch of Antioch had a great following and the Monophysites took the name of Jacobites. There were also Catholics in these regions who were subject to Rome but followed the oriental liturgy. All the three churches have at present adherents in Malabar and each sect tries to show that the Malabar Church originally belonged to them. From the inadequate historical material available every zealot is in a favourable position to propound his own pet theories. The accounts of ignorant European travellers who dubbed as 'Nestorian heretics' all Christians who did not appear in boots and top hats have added to the confusion, and Archbishop Menezies who destroyed all Syrian records that might have thrown some light on the matter has left the impartial inquirer in complete darkness. The Malabar Church suffered practical isolation with the rise of Islam and the dominance of the Indian Seas by the Muslims. The Syrians, however, clung tenaciously to their traditions and made desperate attempts to get Bishops from Western Asia. Of the geography of Western Asia they knew little; of the theological niceties that rocked that ancient centre of Christianity perhaps less. What they apparently wanted was a Bishop of Western Asian appearance who did not understand their language Malayalam, and as long as a person of this description came to them by sea they were not interested in his doctrines or his bona fides. In fact the Malabar Christians were at times reduced to such desperate straits in the matter of obtaining foreign Bishops that any pirate who managed to capture a Syrian or Persian of respectable

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appearance with a flowing beard was in a position to palm him off to Malabar Christians as a Bishop at a very good price. Nor were real Bishops lacking whose zeal for the gospel was not so marked as their love of power and wealth. Many a Bishop who had been deprived of his see in Persia or Asia Minor appeared in Ma|abar with forged documents supposed to be signed by venerable authorities, and ruled the Malabar Church. Such Bishops have come to Malabar even after the dominance of Indian Seas had passed to the Portuguese, and their number must have been quite considerable during Arab domination. Under such conditions it is idle to maintain that the Malabar Church had consistently remained faithful to a particular dogma or denomination. All that we can say is that it has remained remarkably Christian during this period of isolation and confusion and this in itself is a great achievement considering the odds it had to contend with. The early missionaries, as we have seen, were of Western Asian and Alexandrian origin. Once Christianity conquered Rome, the barbarous races of Western and Northern Europe were brought under Christian influence mainly through the activities of the missionaries of the Mediterranean region. India too had contributed her share in this great work. We have already noticed a reference to Theophilus, the Indian, a native of Maldive. In the Roman Martyrology is an entry under date August 8th (452) which reads: "At Vienne (in Dauphine) France, the Feast of S. Severus, Priest and Confessor, who undertook a troublesome pilgrimage from India in order to preach and, coming in the aforesaid city, converted by his preaching and miracles a large multitude of heathen to the faith of Christ/' Severus, we are told, was a man of wealth who at a very young age sold away his possessions and distributed the money to the poor. He then became an anchorite but the Master's call came for field work and he travelled to Europe and embarked upon a vigorous missionary life. He died in Italy but his body was brought to Vienne and buried in St. Stephen's church the origin of which was traced to him. Severus was not probably an isolated instance. There were Indian

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missionaries of lesser greatness who contributed to the building of the Church in Europe but whose names were lost in the womb of time. With the checking of the Muslim expansion by Europe, the nations of the Atlantic seaboard came into prominence and the exuberant energy that animated these people began to be felt throughout the world. Their colonial ambition and missionary zeal opened up a new chapter in world history, and soon India too began to feel the impact. The first European missionary to come to India was Friar John of Monte Corvino, who on his way to China, stayed thirteen months in Mylapore during the years 1291-92. He preached the gospel to the Hindus and baptized over one hundred persons. But the major part of his missionary life was spent in China and he was made the first Archbishop of Peking in 1307 by Pope Nicolas IV. The founding by Pope Innocent IV in 1252 of'The Society of Wayfarers for Christ* may be said to have started the new era of European missions. The Society was composed of Fransiscan and Dominican Friars. The rumours of the existence of Christians in several parts of India and the stories of the miracles current in Europe at the shrine of St. Thomas in Mylapore fired the imagination of the members of the newly founded Society. The vigilance of the Turk who sat at the gates of the East gave rise to many difficulties in embarking upon missionary activities in India, but a party of five missionaries succeeded in passing the gate. They were the French Dominican Friar Jordanus, the Franciscans Thomas of Tolentino, James of Padua, Peter of Siena and the Georgian lay Brother Demetrius, a scholar and linguist. They started from Avignon and after several adventures on the way reached Ormuz in 1321. From here they set sail to Malabar with the intention of continuing their journey to Mylapore either by land or by sea. But a rough sea cut short their voyage and their ship could not sail beyond Salsette where they disembarked. Leaving the four brethren in Thana, Jordanus travelled to Broach where he wished to commence his missionary work. When he reached Surat news

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was brought to him that the four Franciscans had fallen foul of the Muslim governor of the Province and were put to death. It appears the governor, hearing that the missionaries were not paying proper respect to the name of the Prophet of Islam in their preachings, summoned them before him and questioned them on the subject. He wanted to know their candid opinion about the Prophet and his mission and the missionaries, when pressed for an answer, told him exactly what they thought of the Prophet; and they paid the price. Jordanus returned to Thana just in time to give a Christian burial to the martyrs. After working for some time in this region where he made a few converts the Friar returned to Europe. In the year 1331 Jordanus again visited India, this time as the Bishop of Quilon. He must have told the Pope many things about the Christians of Malabar whom he had not seen and his intention was probably to convert the Syrians to the Latin rite. The innovation, however, did not interest the Syrians. He gave them up as an incorrigible sect of Christians who believed that St. Thomas was Jesus Christ. Knowing the Syrians as we do, this forerunner of Archbishop Menezies must have carried with him bitter memories of the Syrian opposition to the Latin rite.

CHAPTER IV THE COMING OF THE PORTUGUESE AND THE MISSION OF ST. FRANCIS XAVIER PEPPER, once again, comes into prominence. The Turks having closed the age-old overland trade routes to India, the much valued Indian goods, especially pepper, became rare in Europe. The Italian city states that had thrived on commerce were nearly ruined. Other nations had risen in Europe with ambitions to force a way to the wealth of the fabulous East. The accounts of travellers showed that in India itself European traders would be welcome if they could only get past the barrier erected by the Turk. A frantic search was now made by Europeans to discover new routes to India. Medieval geographers had thought that they knew all about the land surface of the earth, but the great oceans held out promise of unlimited possibilities. Old maps and ancient accounts of mariners' adventures were fished out of libraries and bold sailors set out in all directions to explore the Seven Seas. The newly risen maritime kingdoms of Spain and Portugal were the pioneers in this new activity. Columbus worked on the theory of the global earth and sailed westward to reach the East. Other sailors, less bold, followed the routes of Pharaoh Necho's seahawks and sailed along the African coast to the south to find out if Africa was really a pensinsula or a continuation of Asia. Bartholomew Diaz reached the southernmost point of Africa and named the cape, Cape of Good Hope, as it gave promise of great things. It was, however, given to Vasco da Gama to realize the hopes held out by the discovery of the Cape. Rounding the Cape he struck boldly into the Arabian Sea and on the 2Oth May 1498 dropped anchor at Calicut, the then principal port on the West Coast, in the dominions of the Zamorin. The barrier the Muslims had erected between India and Europe was at last by-passed.

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The news of the arrival of the Portuguese spread throughout Malabar. The Zamorin, the ally of the Arabs, viewed the newcomers with suspicion. The Arab presaged his doom. The Rajah of Cochin, smarting under many wrongs he had suffered at the hands of the Arabs, was eager to court the friendship of the Portuguese and build up the trade of Cranganoor lost to Calicut with die rise of the Muslims. The greatest rejoicings were, however, of the Syrian Christians. Impoverished by the loss of trade to the Arabs and fallen in prestige and power on that account, they entertained wild hopes of deliverance and re-establishment of their lost glory by Portuguese friendship and patronage. They promptly sent ambassadors to Vasco da Gama who himself was eager to befriend his co-religionists in the strange land he had reached. The result of the first contact between the Syrians and the Portuguese was one of extreme cordiality. They ate and drank together, went on pilgrimages to Mylapore and entered into trade contracts especially as the inland trade of pepper was still in the hands of the Syrians. The Syrians so trusted the Portuguese that in 1502 they presented Vasco da Gama, then resident in Cochin, with the Rod of Justice of the extinct Valiar Vattam dynasty in token of their friendship. It will be seen that there was but an interval of four years between the first landing of Vasco da Gama and the presentation of the Rod of Justice by the Syrians, and neither the Portuguese nor Syrians had time and opportunity for mutual study.While the Europeans of the Mediterranean region had some knowledge of India and her people gained through commerce, travel and hearsay, the Portuguese who came from the Atlantic seaboard knew very little about Indians and their way of life. To Vasco da Gama and his company all Indians looked alike. Their ideas of Christianity in India, when they had any ideas at all, were derived mainly from traveller's tales and the legends connected with the mythical Prestor John. Some Portuguese writers thought that the kings of Malabar, Ceylon and Pegu were Christians while others imagined that the whole population of India were Christian

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living under a powerful Christian emperor. So confused were the ideas prevailing among the Portuguese about Christians in India that Vasco da Gama and his party actually paid a visit to a Hindu temple and worshipped the idol imagining it to be an image of Virgin Mary. The story of this visit is worth narrating. Gama, after obtaining the reluctant permission of the Zamorin to establish a factory in Calicut wished to see a church and worship in it. Due to the incompetence of the interpreter (it was during the first visit of Gama and a decent interpreter who knew Portuguese and Malayalam was impossible to procure) the idea was mutilated and the distinguished visitor was taken to a Hindu temple. We will do well to remember that while the Portuguese knew little about Indians, Indians knew less about the Portuguese. Except that they belonged to the Christian community generally held in high esteem in Malabar as a clean and high caste, the Hindus then did not know much about the Portuguese. If they knew they were the unclean Parangis they had later come to be known in India, the Hindus would not have allowed the Portuguese to come anywhere near their temple. Anyway, the account of the visit left by Ferna Lopez de (Jastanheda is amusing: "The Kotwal took Vasco da Gama to a Pagoda of his idols, telling him it was a church of much devotion, and he thought so the more as he saw above the chief gates seven bells, and before it a copper pillar as high as a ship's mast, on the capital thereof was a big bird of the same copper which appeared to be a cock. And the church was as big as a monastery, made entirely of hewn stones and roofed with bricks which bade fair to be a fine building within. And Vasco da Gama was much pleased to see it, and he thought he was among Christians. And when we had entered with the Kotwal, we were received by some men, naked from the girdle upwards and covered downward with certain cloth up to knees, and with another cloth thrown over the shoulder. They had nothing on their head, and had certain number of threads from the top of the left shoulder which passed under the right shoulder in the way the Deacons wear the stole when they serve at Mass; and these men are called Cafres and in Malabar they serve in the

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Pagodas. With a sprinkler they sprinkled water from a font on Vasco da Gama and the Kotwal and our people; next they gave them ground sandal to put on their head, as we here put ashes, and also on the brawn of their arms; ours did not put it there as they were dressed, but they put it on their head. And as they went through that church, they saw many images on the walls, and some of them had teeth so big that they came an inch out of their mouth, and others had four arms, and they were so ugly of countenance as to look like devils. This made ours doubt somewhat whether it was a church of Christians, and when they had came before the chapel, which was in the middle of the body of the church, they saw it had a summit, like a Cathedral, also of hewn stone. And on one side of this summit there was a brass door admitting one man and they went up to it by a stone stair-case, within the chapel which was a little dark. There was placed in the wall, an image which was descried from outside, because they would not let them go inside, signifying to them that only the Cafres could enter there; and there pointing to the image called it Sancta Maria, giving them to understand that that was their image. And as it appeared so to Vasco da Gama he knelt down and ours with him and they prayed. And Joao de Saa, who doubted whether that was a church of the Christians, because of the ugliness of the images that had been painted on the walls, said, while kneeling down, 'If this is the devil, I worship the true God.' And Vasco da Gama, who heard him looked towards him, smiling. And the Kotwal and his people who stood before the chapel, prostrated themselves on the ground with their hands in front, and this three times, and then they rose and prayed standing.'** The temple was, in all probability, of KaH, also worshipped in Malabar and Tamil districts as Mari Amma, Mother of Epidemics. Such ignorance of the Portuguese about Christianity in India did not last long. With their rise in power and dominance of the Indian Ocean, clergy and missionaries of various orders came to India in large numbers and they obtained a fairly sound idea of * Quoted in. Jesuits inMalabar by Feroli S. J.

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the religions and peoples of India. They realized that India was inhabited mainly by Hindus and Muslims, and barring the St. Thomas Christians numbering at that time about 200,000 souls there were no Christian communities worth the name in India. They also found that the St. Thomas Christians, though enjoying self-government in all social and civil matters, were formally subject to local Rajahs; that they followed the Syrian rite and obtained Bishops fromWestern Asia; that they were good businessmen and agriculturists as well as soldiers and could put in the field, in an emergency, 20,000 fighting men, quite a respectable army judged from local standards at the time; that their Bishops, not being subjects of local Rajahs, were virtually independent and had an army of their own. The Syrians too found out many things about the Portuguese which in their original enthusiasm they had either overlooked or failed to notice. They found that their rites differed from those of the Portuguese; that the way of life of the Portuguese was incompatible with Syrian notions of respectability and ceremonial purity. With the rise of Portuguese power a large number of them settled down in the ports of Goa, Calicut, Cochin and Cranganoor and their way of life became a scandal to all respectable Indians. The beef and pork eating Portuguese were held in contempt as unclean both by the Hindus and Muslims. In sexual morals they appeared to recognize no law and their attitude towards the people of the land was arrogant and contemptuous. The Portuguese soon earned for themselves a notoriety for lawless living and the term 'Parangi' by which the Portuguese were known to Indians degenerated into a synonym for an unclean barbarian. This general contempt for the Portuguese began to be shared by the Syrians too. And when the Portuguese expressed a desire to marry Syrian Christian girls, the Syrians thought that the time had come to keep the foreigners at a respectable distance. This contempt for the Portuguese as a nation was, no doubt, uncharitable and was occasioned by an inadequate knowledge of them. Indians judged the great Portuguese nation by the standard

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of life of common soldiers, sailors and adventurers who had settled in Indian ports. As is well known, these classes, whatever their professed religion or nationality, are not particularly noted for correct living. The fact that they lived far away from their native land and the restraining influence of social codes, added much to the licence in the Portuguese settlements. Further, few Portuguese women cared to comfe to India and the men were, by necessity, driven to form permanent or semi-permanent connections with Indian women of no great repute. The only people with whom the Portuguese could have entered into respectable matrimonial relations were the Syrian Christians, and these lofty sons of Brahmins and kings disdained to associate themselves with the unclean 'Parangis'. Anyway, the contempt of Indians did not seriously hinder the Portuguese rise to power. The Arabs were quickly driven off the main ports of India and the Indian Ocean and even the Pacific began to be dominated by Portuguese fleets. The maritime trade of India passed into the hands of the Portuguese and those Arabs who wished to trade with the East did so by the permission of the Portuguese. The Portuguese were no nation of shopkeepers like the English who came later and obtained mastery over India. They still lived in the age of chivalry and were romantics, conquistadors and, above all, crusaders. Flushed with victory in the long and bitter Iberian wars with the Moors, the Portuguese had emerged as a nation overflowing with exuberant energy and as the liberators of Christendom. Europe and Africa could not hold them. They roved the high seas from one end of the world to the other in search of adventure. They lavished wealth, energy and lifie on their pet causes with an abandon that astonished the shrewd, calculating British businessman interested only in his dividends. They were less mature than the Italians, the lineal descendants of the Romans but more energetic, bouyant and daring, and revelled in those fantasies peculiar to adolescence. The Portuguese did not believe that there was any good in Hinduism or Islam but were firmly convinced that salvation lay only through a European

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Christ. Hence most of their activities were inexplicable both to Indians and Europeans of the older civilisation. One of the main motives of Portuguese expansion, as we have seen, was the crusading spirit. Their zeal for spreading Christianity in the East won for them the admiration and blessings of the Pope, and Alexander VI intervening in the dispute between the Spaniards and the Portuguese divided the world between them, giving the Portuguese the East as their portion in colonial, commercial, political and religious expansion. In 1514 Pope Leo X established the Padroado by which the Portuguese obtained certain ecclesiastical rights over the Christians and Churches in the East, which was later to cause infinite trouble to the Pope himself. This was yet to come, with the decay of the Portuguese power and the rise of other European nations. For the present we are concerned only with the phenomenal rise of Portuguese power in the East and their Christian zeal. Wherever the Portuguese flag flew, missionaries burning with zeal for the spread of Christianity appeared. The state actively supported the church and where the reasonable persuasion of the missionary failed to impress the arms of the state did. Vasco da Gama's own chaplain, Dom Pedro de Covilham, of the Order of Redemption of Captives, was the first Portuguese missionary who was martyred in India. In 1510 the great Portuguese Admiral Albuquerque conquered Goa and rebuilt the city and made it the capital of the Portuguese Empire in the East. The earlier settlements of Cranganoor, Cochin and Calicut on the West Coast became subordinate to Goa and this city quickly rose to wealth and fame and passed into European legend as Golden Goa, the fabulous city of oriental splendour and luxury. Goa was not only the metropolis of political and civil authority of Portuguese Empire in the East but also the headquarters of Ecclesiastical authority and missionary activities. In 1534 Goa was raised to a Bishopric and in 1557 to m Archdiocese with Cochin and Malacca as suffragans; the Inquisition was established in 1560. The Franciscans and Dominicans were the pioneers in missionary work in Portuguese India. Within a short period they

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brought the majority of the population of the city of Goa under Christian influence. Their work extended to Cochin, Cranganoor and along the Coast as far as Mylapore. The greatest of their gains was, however, in the Fishery Coast where their work led to far reaching political consequences. An incident similar to the 'War of Jenkin's ear' brought about a revolutionary change in the political and religious atmosphere of the Fishery Coast and led to the naval action of Vedalai which broke the Arab power on the West Coast. The incident deserves some detailed notice. Fishermen in India are a caste by themselves, condemned as untouchables by the higher classes, who eked out a living by an occupation more precarious than farming, itself not very profitable or reliable but the main occupation of the lower castes in India. Pearl fishing was, however, an organized industry in Tuticorin and the neighbouring coastal region. The actual pearl fishers, known as Paravars or Bharatars, were as poor as their brethren occupied in regular fishing but the Arabs who controlled pearl fishing and carried on the trade were the richest merchants in the East. The Arabs were staunch allies of the Pandyans in whose dominions were situated the pearl fisheries of South India; the revenue they derived from this industry was quite considerable and they usually took no notice of the complaints of extortion on their subjects by the Arabs. The Paravars were oppressed alike by their own kings and the Arabs but the latter were in immediate contact with them and there was constant friction between the Arabs and Paravars. Groaning under the double tyranny of the Pandyans and the Arabs, the miserable fishers had another menace to contend with. The Fishery Coast at that time was notorious for the activities of pirates and these, when hard up for plunder on the high seas, raided the defenceless villages of the fishers and carried away able-bodied men and desirable young girls to be sold as slaves. All told the plight of the pearl fishers was anything but enviable. As the Portuguese power was rising in Malabar, some of the pearl fishers happened to have a quarrel with the Arab overseers under whom they were working and in the fray some Muslims

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did violence on a Paravar woman. Her infuriated husband and his friends caught the ravisher and cut off his ear lobe. This was but the spark that lit up a huge conflagration. The news of the rape of the fisherwoman spread like wild fire in the Fishery Coast and an excited mob of fishers murdered a good many Muslims. This mutiny of the Paravars and murder of members of the powerful community of Arabs had to be avenged. The Nayacker of Madura the overlord of the Paravars nodded ascent, and the Muslims started a systematic massacre of the Paravars. They fled but were hunted. Any one who presented the head of a Paravar was rewarded five panams (the panam is a silver coin of less than eight annas in value). This high price had soon to be reduced to one panam because of the large number of heads that were daily presented for cashing. The wretched Paravars went into hiding and lived in constant dread of annihilation. To these hunted men came an Indian Christian with a message of hope. This interesting personage was a merchant named Joao de Cruz, a native of Calicut. De Cruz was a Hindu by birth who was sent by the Zamorin to Lisbon in the year 1513 to study higher commerce as the lad gave promise of a brilliant commercial career. In Lisbon together with Commerce he studied Christianity, embraced this religion and received his Portuguese name. Loaded with honours from the King of Portugal, de Cruz returned to India to advise the Zamorin on his commercial policy but found his patron cold and aloof. His conversion had upset the Zamorin's mental balance. Nothing daunted, the enterprising de Cruz started business on his own with the help of some Portuguese gentlemen of influence. But misfortune dogged his heels in all his commercial activities. He lost many ships in the sea and in a voyage was himself shipwrecked. He escaped with bare life, having lost his wife and children in the sea. He was heavily indebted to the Portuguese Factor at Cochin and this dignitary thought the moment most opportune to demand his money. Poor de Cruz could not pay and the Factor had him thrown into prison. The impoverished merchant had, however, some credit with

2. Thomas Clears His Doubt (Gucrcino : Vatican Museum]

3. St. Francis Xavier

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the king of Portugal to whom he now wrote of his misfortunes and King John not only asked the Commandant of Cochin to release de Cruz but to accord him facilities for further commercial activities and give him two years' time to pay off his debts. Thus freed, de Cruz, in a desperate attempt to retrieve his lost fortune started trading in imported horses near Cape Comorin and it was here that he came to know of the plight of the Paravars. No wonder de Cruz could not make good in business, for he was no businessman; in his sympathy for the wretched Paravars he left his horses in Comorin and proceeded to the heart of the Fishery Coast to work for the deliverance of the Paravars. He contacted the headmen of the fishers who were living in hiding and informed them of the powerful new enemies of the Arabs who had established themselves in Cochin; and advised them that the only way to save themselves from the fury of the Arabs was to embrace Christianity and put themselves under the formal protection of the Portuguese. The Paravars jumped at the idea. A deputation of fifteen Paravars immediately proceeded to Cochin and were baptized. Soon the Portuguese missionaries appeared in the Fishery Coast, baptized over 20,000 Paravars and in accordance with their usual practice declared they were all under the protection of the King of Portugal. "And that is how," says a contemporary writer, "Our Lord saved so many souls by means of one torn ear-lobe." The Muslim traders of the Fishery Coast naturally viewed these activities of the Portuguese with alarm. They had probably no intention of annihilating the Paravars as they were very good fishers and the Golden Goose of the Muslims; they only wanted to drive home to the Paravars that no rebellion would be tolerated whatever the provocation. The conversion of the Paravars and the transfer of their allegiance to the Portuguese were quite unforeseen events and it became clear to all Muslims who traded with the Indian ports that they would not be left the undisputed masters of the Indian ports they had so far been. Open hostilities now broke out between the Portuguese and the Arabs, and wherever the two met they fought. These indecisive minor

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actions had but a nuisance value and the Muslims organized a powerful confederacy against the Portuguese in which the Zamorin, the age-old ally of the Portuguese took an active part. A great fleet was equipped against the Western intruders. The Muslim admiral viewing his formidable armada was more than satisfied. He declared a victory before the battle was won and asked the Zamorin to start preparations for celebrating it. But the Portuguese proved that they were not the unruly, Godforsaken ruffians the Indians and Arabs had taken them for. With the help of the Rajah of Cochin and their Indian Christian allies they inflicted a crushing defeat on the Arabs in the famous naval action of Vedalai. This battle once for all broke the Muslim naval power and the supremacy of the Arabian Sea passed on to the Portuguese. The victory of Vedalai was celebrated with great enthusiasm both in Portugal and in India. The Zamorin realized the hopelessness of his situation and sued for peace and the Portuguese granted it on their own terms. Henceforward the power of the Zamorin waned and that of Cochin rose. It was easy enough to convert 20,000 Paravars overnight as it were who found in conversion the only means of saving their lives, but to bring them to the Christian way of life was a more difficult matter. Though the Arabs were overcome, the hostility of the Pandyan had to be contended with. The inhospitable climate made life for Portuguese missionaries in the Fishery Coast extremely difficult. It was at this time that St. Francis Xavier appeared in the Indian mission field and started his momentous work. Of all the missionaries Europe has sent out to India, Xavier was undoubtedly the greatest. He was that rare phenomenon, the ecstatic and man of action combined, which appears in the world once in several centuries. With a mystic bent of mind he combined an overwhelming compassion for suffering humanity and a flak for affairs which made his personality irresistible. Xavier was of noble birth and started life as a gay courtier in Navarre, but the gaiety of court life did not hold him long. After a brilliant academic career he joined the staff of the then famous

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Paris university as a lecturer in philosophy. This was the time when Ignatius Loyola was planning his spiritual militarism and Xavier fell under his influence. He joined the newly founded Society of Jesus and abandoning the peaceful atmosphere of the university plunged into the field of missionary work in the East. Francis Xavier landed at Goa on 6th May 1542. This city, as we have noticed, was the capital of the rising Portuguese Empire in the East and one of the richest ports in the world. The powerful Portuguese Viceroy, the terror of all sea-going nations in the East had his headquarters there. He levied tribute from all vessels plying in the Indian Ocean whether for trade or for conveying pilgrims to and from Mecca. Goa had a very large cosmopolitan population of Hindus, Muslims, Indian Christians, Portuguese and Armenians, and the naval and army personnel and their requirements attracted a large number of businessmen and contractors. Building activity was in full swing and armies of labourers and overseers toiled at the construction of churches, monasteries, palaces and dwellings for the common folk. The clergy who catered to the needs of the Christians and the missionaries engaged in expanding the church were also numerous. Xavier, before leaving Europe, had obtained from King John of Portugal, a zealous Christian, a letter highly recommending him to the Viceroy and asking him to give full support to the missionary. The Pope had appointed him Papal Nuncio to India and the Far East and had given him authority over all churches and missions in the Portuguese Empire in the East. Thus he had the backing of the most powerful political and ecclesiastical authorities of the time; but Xavier depended for the success of his mission not on the authority of king or Pontiff, but on his own devotion to the great cause he had undertaken for Christ. Xavier's fame had preceded him and when he disembarked from the ship most of the highly placed civil and ecclesiastical authorities of the city and a large crowd were at the wharf to welcome him. A gaily decorated palanquin was ready for his

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conveyance. When the distinguished visitor came down the gangway of the ship, it was noticed that he was barefooted and ckd in rags. A divine joy radiated from his face and he struck the crowd as a man not of this world. He dismissed the palanquin and signified his intention to walk to the hospital first. The grandees of Goa walked behind him, and on reaching the hospital he started washing the sores of lepers. Xavier did not like the metropolitan atmosphere of Goa. He knew there was much to be done among his own community of Europeans in Goa, but there were greater needs to be catered for. He was struck by the abject distress of the lower classes of Hindus who were treated as subhumans by high caste Hindus, Muslims and Christians alike and it was the social and spiritual needs of these miserable creatures that claimed his attention first. He was quick to realize that Portuguese arms were respected and feared most in the low lying coastal regions and if the fisherfolk inhabiting this region were converted the Portuguese were in a position to give effective protection to the neophytes who were likely to be persecuted by high caste Hindus and the Arabs who were beginning to look upon all Christians as their enemies. Soon after his arrival in India Xavier visited the Fishery Coast and ministered to the needs of the newly converted Paravars. The progress of his mission was not without difficulties. The transfer of their allegiance brought upon the Paravars the ire of the Pandyan and his powerful army was mobilised against them. The Paravars deserted the coastal regions and took refuge in the islands, and feeding the refugees was the special care of Xavier. A good number of Paravars fled to Travancore and the Rajah gave them protection; this offended the Pandyan and an invasion of Travancore appeared imminent. A Pandyan army actually marched on Travancore but did not proceed farther than the Amboli pass. A legend says that Xavier stopped the army by performing a miracle. Xavier's standing with the king of Portugal and the Viceroy at Goa was well known to South Indian potentates and a stern warning from the saint was probably responsible for the withdrawal of the Pandyan army. In recognition of this

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signal service, Xavier was invited by the Rajah of Travancore to his capital and was received with great honour. Francis Xavier obtained permission from the Rajah of Travancore to do missionary work in his kingdom. For several good reasons he confined his missionary activities to the coastal region, mainly among the fishers. For one thing Xavier believed that the down trodden, poor inhabitants of the coast stood in greater need of him than the well-to-do classes of the interior who Hved in lofty seclusion; for another, he realized that it was easier for the Portuguese to interfere and afford protection to the neophytes if any trouble similar to that experienced by the Paravars arose. Xavier, no doubt, came in contact with the Syrian Christians. In his reports he spoke well of them and their Bishop. He did not waste his time probing into the details of their ritual or trying to change the way they put on clothes, but was inspired by the larger interests of Christianity and of humanity. The passion for details in ritual and ceremonial comes out of an inordinate love of book knowledge and an idle love of speculation. Xavier was concerned with men and women and souls in agony; he had given up books when he left Paris. After spending three crowded years in India, the eagle eye of the missionary turned eastward. His was a soul which could not find peace as long as a single country existed in the world in which Christ was not known. Xavier was now fired with a zeal to preach Christ in the Land of the Rising Sun, the farthermost corner of the known world. An incident which filled his mind with annoyance at the indifference of the civil authorities of Goa towards his mission hastened his departure from India. Some fishermen living in Manar coming to know of the advantages the Paravars enjoyed ujider Portuguese patronage sent a deputation to Francis Xavier to visit them. Xavier was then busy in Travancore and could not visit them himself but sent a priest who baptized a large number of the fishermen. These men were at that time under the king of Jaffiia who found in the conversion of the fishers a potential danger to himself. The Portuguese, as a matter of course, claimed all their converts for subjects, and the

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of Jaffna naturally feared that the conversion of the fishermen was but the thin end of the wedge which was eventually to lead to his ruin. The conversion of the Paravars and the destruction of the Arabs were fresh in his mind. So he sent an army to Manar and ordered the fishermen to return to their old faith. The fishermen refused and about 700 of them were butchered by the soldiery. News of the massacre of the fishers reaching Xavier, he immediately proceeded to Goa to impress upon the Viceroy the need for doing something effective in the matter/Besides, information had reached him that the brother of the king of Jaffna was favourably disposed towards Christianity. The time appeared opportune for intervention. The Viceroy was at first favourably disposed towards the proposal, but later he changed his mind for some unknown reason and Xavier's bright hopes were dashed. In the meantime the lure of the East became irresistible and he left India in the beginning of the year 1545. He reached Moluccas and after working three years here had to come back to India without proceeding to Japan. Reaching India in January 1548, he remained in this country for fifteen months, mainly engaged in organizing Jesuit missions in India and the East. The work of an organizer and director did not hold him long. The call of Japan came again, and in February 1549 he sailed from India to the strange Land of the Rising Sun. Xavier worked in Japan for two years but the brilliant achievements of this remarkable man here is outside the scope of this book. Suffice it to say that after founding the church and winning the veneration of all who came in contact with him in Japan, Xavier returned to India and landed in Cochin in January 1552. What he saw in India filled his soul with anguish. The affairs of the Society had fallen in a bad way. Incompetent and unworthy men filled responsible posts and quarrels for power and position among the clergy and laity became scandalous. Xavier now showed that he was not only a missionary and organizer but a stern disciplinarian. He took vigorous measures to combat corruption ancj jobbery. Those who needed correction were ad-

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monished; the incorrigible were removed from office. Within a short period he mended the affairs of the Society; and then the old passion for mission work again seized him. There was yet one important country in the East which he had not visited. This was China. While he was in Japan, Xavier had occasion to notice that the Japanese looked to China as the mother of all civilisations and had the greatest respect for the culture and traditions of this great and ancient land. Now the tireless missionary decided to preach the Gospel to the people of this part of the globe. He tried to interest the civil authorities of Goa in his mission. The proposed enterprise appeared so dangerous to the gentlemen of Goa because of tie well-known hostility of the Chinese to all Europeans especially the Portuguese, that far from encouraging him they dissuaded the missionary from undertaking the hazardous mission. Individuals were, however, helpful. lago Pereira, the Captain of the vessel that took him to Japan put his heart and soul into the missionary's design. After overcoming considerable opposition from several quarters, Xavier set sail from Goa in April 1552 with the Celestial Empire as his destination never again to return to India he loved so well. Encountering many difficulties on the way, which only added to his zeal, this bold messenger of Christ reached the island of Sancian off Canton. This was the nearest point to the mainland where foreigners were permitted to disembark. Further progress proved difficult.While Xavier was absorbed in plans to cross over to the mainland, the Master called His tired worker from the field of labour. For on the 2nd December 1552, thousands of miles away from home and friends, exposed to biting colds in the sands of Sancian, this courtier, scholar, philosopher, administrator, mystic and arch-missionary breathed his last. There was none to comfort him in his last moments except the Eternal Comforter. And his was the death of the true missionary. Not only Christendom, but both East and West that knew him mourned Xavier's death. His body was brought to Goa and to this day it remains intact, a lasting symbol of the immortality of his work.

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No mission worker in the East has earned such great tributes from Christians and non-Christians alike as St. Francis Xavier. Born of noble parents and brought up to be a courtier, gifted with all the qualities that would have carved for him a brilliant worldly life, Xavier's renunciation itself was great; but his sincerity, devotion to the Christian cause, compassion for suffering humanity, his exhuberant energy that treated the whole globe as too small for his labours and his success in spite of great hazards make him by far the greatest saint and mission worker Europe has ever sent out to the East. It was not the reward of heaven or the fear of hell that inspired Xavier to his momentous work, but his compassion for mankind and all consuming love for Christ. He transcends all sectarian bounds and belongs to humanity and not to a particular denomination. The following hymn, attributed to Xavier, shows up the springs of emotion that welled up within him and overflowed to fill the world: My God, I love Thee: not because I hope for heaven thereby, Nor yet because who love Thee not Are lost eternally. Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me Upon the Cross embrace; For me didst bear the nails, the spear And manifold disgrace, And griefs and torments numberless, And sweat of agony— Yea death itself: and all for me, Who was thine enemy. Then why, O blessed Jesu Christ, Should I not love Thee well? Not for the sake of winning heaven Nor of escaping hell! Not from the hope of gaining aught, Not seeking a reward;

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But as Thyself hast loved me O ever loving Lord! So would I love Thee, dearest Lord, And in Thy praise will sing: Solely because Thou art my God, And my most loving King. Xavier, though a laborious worker, was also a mystic. He used to commune with God and fall into fits of ecstasy. He woke up from these mystic experiences crying 'Enough, Lord, enough'. His face always radiated a mysterious joy, not of this world, and any one who came in contact with him was immediately fascinated by it. But it was not this mystic personality alone that brought about the success of his mission. His will to suffer was even greater than his mystic powers. This side of his personality was once illustrated with particular force in an incident by which he saved a friend. While journeying from Goa to Cochin, he found himself on board the ship in the company of a Portuguese gentleman of rank whose way of life was a byword in wickedness among the Portuguese and Indians alike. Xavier by engaging conversation made friends with the man and tried to interest him in spiritual matters. But the man proved too difficult even for Xavier. He scoffed at religion and often revolted the saint by his loose and blasphemous talk. Xavier, however, did not despair. He persisted and the man, though not particularly interested in divine subjects, proved a good listener as Xavier himself was a man of wide experience and could be a brilliant conversationalist when he wanted. Throughout the journey, the man, however, could not be converted. The ship dropping anchor at Cranganoor, Xavier invited him for a stroll in a palm grove on the beach and as the two were conversing, Xavier suddenly bared his shoulders and started scourging himself till blood came out of the flesh. The bewildered man immediately understood the significance of the saint's strange action and implored him to. desist. It is related he became a penitent and died a good Christian.

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Such was Xavier's strange will to suffer for his brethren. Xavier is said to have converted seven hundred thousand men to Christianity. He established schools for instruction of the neophytes and wherever he could worked for the spiritual and material advancement of the converts. He also established on a firm foundation the Society of Jesus in India which did such splendid work in the mission field in the East.

CHAPTER V

ROBERT DE NOBILI—THE ROMAN BRAHMIN AND THE MADURA MISSION THE work of St. Francis Xavier and the early missionaries was, as we have seen, confined mainly to the lower classes inhabiting the coast. Christianity was firmly established by these pioneers all along the regions dominated by the Portuguese, but Portuguese influence extended only to a negligible part of the country and real India, even in the South, remained aloof from Christian influence. The later missionaries had time to review the work of their predecessors and study its effect on Indian population. The first thing they noticed was that the conversion of the lower classes was leading to a general feeling in India that Christianity was a religion good enough for Parangis and outcastes but not for respectable Indians. The fishermen from whom the bulk of the neophytes were drawn were unapproachables to the three higher castes and even the better class of Sudras treated them as untouchables. The freedom of social intercourse extended by the Portuguese to the converted fishers did nothing to raise the prestige of the Portuguese, already low as we have noticed in a previous chapter. It was not merely the licentious life of the Portuguese settlements in the country that revolted Indians. The very construction of European society and some of its perfectly legitimate and desirable usages were objectionable from Indian standards. A casteless society was promiscuity to the Hindu. Beef eating and indifference to ablutions were abominations in the eyes of the Hindus which prevented all social intercourse between Europeans and the better classes of Hindus. The Syrian Christians had always appreciated these Hindu prejudices and had maintained a sort of caste superiority and ceremonial purity which had obtained for them the status of a high caste among the Hindus. 63

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Another thing that struck the later missionaries was the general indifference of high caste Hindus to the religion of the Europeans as separate from their political prestige. The motive of conversion of the Paravars and other communities of fishers was either hope of deliverance from their oppressors or material advantage. The better classes of Hindus, especially Brahmins who were quite well off under Hindu kings did not care to be converted; nor did they show any interest in the religion of the Parangis. True, some discontented chieftain at times approached the Portuguese with a pretended interest in Christianity followed by requests of political help; but when this was denied or delayed, the enquirer lost his interest in Christianity. The vigilant and energetic Jesuits of the Counter Reformation who were planning the conversion of India and the Far East did not fail to take notice pf these facts. They realized that without impressing the upper strata of Hindu society Christianity could make no real headway in India. For obvious reasons, the methods adopted in the conversion of the Paravars could not be applied to the lofty, intellectually complacent Brahmin who laid down laws for kings and subjects alike and dominated the social, religious and political life of the Hindus. Before trying to convert him, it was necessary to know the religious views he held. Hence the bolder and more brilliant members of the Society of Jesus started studying the language, religion, literature and social theories of the Hindus, and the result was an eye-opener to many a missionary. Hitherto Europeans had treated the Hindus as a band of abandoned infidels bereft of all true knowledge and grace of God. But a closer study of the Hindus convinced the more enlightened of the European missionaries that far from being savages the Hindus were a civilized people, inheritors of a great tradition and culture comparable to that of the Greeks and Romans from whom Christianity had learnt and adopted much. This knowledge led Father Robert de Nobili of the Society of Jesus to introduce a bold and original method in his missionary work. He rightly judged the power of the Brahmins as the leaders

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of the religious and social life of the community and as the counsellors of kings. If Brahmins as a class could be persuaded to accept Christianity he knew that the conversion of others would follow as a matter of course. His extensive study of Hinduism and its social theories made him draw a sharp line between religious and social codes, and he maintained that there was no need for bringing Christianity to India as a violent revolutionary change but that Christ could live in India without hat, pants and boots; that eating, drinking, clothing, washing and fashions in hair dressing had nothing to do with the fundamentals of Christianity, and Indian Christians could be allowed to follow their traditional notions in these matters. He dismissed caste as a social convenience, the cord and the Kudumi (the tuft of long hair worn by South Indians) as marks of social distinction and held that Hindus, on conversion, need not give these up. Agreeable to these notions, Father Robert de Nobili along with his disciple Father Vico, appeared in Madura clad in the saffron robe of the Sadhu with sandal paste on his forehead and the cord on his body from which hung a cross. He took up his abode in the Brahmin quarters of the city. The Hindus with their traditional respect for holy men came to pay homage to the strange Sanyasin. Madura was, at that time, a great centre of Hindu culture and its stately temple harboured many a learned Brahmin whose one delight was the study of things spiritual. Some of these learned men were interested in the new arrival and went to his Ashram to discuss and to question. At first the enquirers were refused admission by the disciple on the plea that the holy man could not be disturbed in his meditation. This but added to the curiosity of the Brahmins of Madura. Pressure for audience became insistent, and gradually the more prominent of the enquirers were admitted to the holy man's presence. De Nobili's profound knowledge of Tamil and Sanskrit and the religion of the Hindus stood him in good stead in dealing with these enquirers. He did not, however, degenerate into a disputant but always maintained the dignity of the teacher. De Nobili gave out that he was a Brahmin from Rome. Knowing the notoriety the Portuguese had obtained all

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over India for unclean living, he dissociated himself from this community and swore he was no Parangi. Strictly speaking, de Nobili was quite justified in his claims. By a wide interpretation, the word 'Brahmin* means a priest and as such he was not wrong in maintaining he was a Brahmin. By the term Parangi or Ferangi, Indians as a rule meant the Portuguese and Father Robert was an Italian. The Italians, as the inheritors of the traditions of the Roman civilisation had, throughout the middle ages, held the newly risen Iberians as half-baked upstarts and Father Robert probably shared his countrymen's views about the Portuguese. There was nothing in the way of life of the Roman Brahmin to cause resentment to the most exacting Indian Brahmin. He performed the ablutions as neatly as the most punctilious Brahmin. He lived on frugal fare, abjuring wine, fish and meat. He never looked at a woman. He abandoned the use of leather shoes and trod on clean wooden sandals as gracefully as a Hindu teacher. He gave audience, sitting cross legged as the meditating Yogi, clad in saffron clothes and hallowed by the aroma of the sandal paste. He discoursed on profound subjects in perfect Tamil and showed deep insight into the religion and philosophy of the Hindus. It should not be imagined that Father Robert adopted this way of life out of sheer hypocrisy. He loved it. He was something of an ascetic and believed that a meagre vegetarian diet and strictness in personal habits enjoined by Brahmins were in conformity with the higher life. The Brahmin mode of dress was best suited to the climate of South India and the ablutions were refreshing in the tropical heat. In his own words, he became an Indian to save Indians even as God became man to save mankind, and there was nothing demeaning or irreligious about that. While he gave up his nationality for India, de Nobili certainly did not give up his religion. The Brahmins of Madura did not know what to make of their Roman compeer. Hinduism, as is well known, is strict in the observance of social rules but exceedingly liberal in the matter

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of belief and as long as the Roman conformed to the formal behaviour enjoined on Brahmins, no one could raise any objection to the doctrines he preached. To those who questioned his claim to Brahminhood Father Robert showed documentary evidence to prove that he belonged to a clan of the parent stock that had migrated westward from ancient Aryavarta. Here too he was right, for research has shown that the Romans and the Hindus belong to the same Aryan race! This documentary evidence and his own exemplary life brought conviction to the doubting, and Father Robert was generally accepted in Madura as a Roman Brahmin. He even wrote a fifth Veda propounding Christian doctrines. The Roman Brahmin collected numerous disciples and commanded universal respect. A modified form of baptism was introduced for, the initiates which differed from the orthodox form in some minor details. Father Robert's disciples were all drawn from the higher castes, and he became a power in Madura. Kings and nobles wished to befriend him. His fame for ascetic virtue was such that when once the king of Madura invited him to the palace de Nobili politely declined the invitation on the plea that moving out of doors his eyes might light upon some woman which would impair his vow of celibacy. Such ostentatious display of strictness had the desired effect. In India a teacher is respected not for the greatness of his doctrines but for the holiness of his life. With success and power came opposition to de Nobili. The Brahmins of Madura began to view the activities of the Roman Brahmin and his followers with uneasiness. They had their own suspicions about de Nobili's claim to Brahminhood. But the faith the people had in him, the royal patronage he enjoyed and the saintly life he led which left nothing to be desired by the most exacting standards made the acrimonious attacks of his enemies ineffective. But opposition came from other quarters which proved more serious. Before de Nobili's arrival in Madura, the Franciscans were working among the lower classes and on their leaving the

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field their work was continued by a Jesuit missionary named Fernandez. Father Fernandez was a staunch adherent of the old school and a bitter critic of the 'accommodation theory' of de Nobili. He together with certain missionaries of his way of thinking viewed the activities of the Roman Brahmin with alarm and sent representations to higher authorities stating that while de Nobili was trying to convert Brahmins to Christianity he was in reality converting Christianity to Brahminism. The cord, the Kudumi and sandal paste were made much of in these representations. Father Fernandez even went out of his way to teach his low caste followers that there was in fact no distinction between his own flock and de Nobili's Brahmin converts as all Hindus lost caste the moment they accepted Baptism. He further declared that both de Nobili and himself were pure Parangis. The worthy Father did not make a public declaration of his convictions because of the authorities in Goa and Cochin who were favourably disposed towards de Nobili, but one of his agents did. One fine morning a Paravar convert of Father Fernandez appeared in Madura and boldly denounced Father Robert as a Parangi impostor and claimed equality withhis Brahmin followers on the strength of his conversion and loudly declared that they had no right to the cord and the Kudumi. This public accusation was turned to good account by the Brahmin enemies of Father Robert and they stirred up the people against him. De Nobili's own disciples who had firmly believed that he was a Rishi from the West and his message the fulfilment of the Veda, were seriously perturbed and wanted an explanation from their Guru. The unfailing resourcefulness of the man saved him. De Nobili asserted with great vehemence that the accusation of the Paravar was malicious and inspired by an unholy desire to claim equality with his superiors. He gave written avowal to the following effect: "I am no Parangi; I am not born on their soil, nor am I allied to their race. In this God is my witness, and if I lie, I am willing not only to be deemed a traitor to God and to be given over to the pains of hdl hereafter, but also to suffer every conceivable

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chastisement in this world. I am born in Rome. My family are of the rank of noble Rajahs in this country. The holy spiritual law which I proclaim has been preached in this very country by other men, Sanyasis and saints alike. Whoever says this law is peculiar to Paravars and Parangis lies: for since God is Lord of all castes, His law must likewise be observed by all." De Nobili was strictly right. His written avowal has been much criticized by his enemies as a piece of imposture, but enlightened Christian opinion can find nothing blameable in it. Father Robert was born in Rome, a fact he admits. The Italians are as different from the Portuguese as the Burmese are from the Singhalese. That he was of noble birth, none can deny. The law of Christ was for all alike; nor was true knowledge confined to Jews; the seers and saints of India were not denied true knowledge and they too had prescience of the redemption of man through God incarnate. Father Robert's ideas on caste were strangely modern. He maintained that caste was a social convenience and had nothing to do with the fundamentals of Hindu religion, a view held by all enlightened Hindus at present. "By becoming a Christian," says de Nobili, "one does not renounce his caste, nobility or usage. The idea that Christianity interferes with them has been impressed upon the people by the devil, and is the great obstacle to Christianity. It is this that has stricken the work of Father Fernandez with sterility." What de Nobili wanted to teach was not socialism or practical democracy but Christianity. The personality of Father Robert and his thorough grasp of Hinduism won the day and the storm blew over. But the persevering Father Fernandez and his company would not accept defeat, and fresh complaints were continuously made to the ecclesiastical authorities in Goa, Cranganoor and Cochin, and Father Robert was called upon to appear before the authorities to answer the charges in person. His brilliant defence of his methods always silenced his enemies. He could explain with ease and conviction the most outlandish and seemingly pagan of his activities. Those who railed against caste were asked to explain the propriety of

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maintaining social distinctions in Europe. Did a nobleman of rank dine with a plebian? When seats could be reserved in churches for the lordly, where was the harm in having separate congregations in India for the high and the low? Europe certainly did not practise social equality at the time, then why should India do so? In India social distinctions were more clearly defined than in Europe, but why should Europeans insist that Indians who accepted Christianity should discard their ancient usages and adopt European customs? Father Robert was not a social reformer but a Christian missionary. Then there was the cord and the Kudumi. The cord, it is true, has some religious significance but its social significance at the time was greater. It was the mark of the three higher castes and in the people's mind was associated with nobility of birth. Hence while de Nobili retained the cord, he did not accept it in its entirety. Instead of the triple cord used by Hindus he introduced a quintiple cord symbolizing the Trinity and the two natures in Christ's person. The cord as such, he maintained, had no great place in die fundamentals of Hinduism and could be adopted by Christians. One cannot but admire de Nobili's profound grasp of Hinduism and contempt for his ill-informed critics. For Hinduism does maintain that the cord is non-essential to the higher life and many a Hindu teacher has discarded the cord to signify his emancipation from caste. As regards the Kudumi, only the stupid could maintain that Jesus Christ wanted men to dress their hair in a particular way. The social inequalities and degradation imposed by the rigours of the caste system could not have possibly escaped the notice of the observant de Nobili. But he was a spiritual teacher and the abolition of caste was the concern of the social reformer. His mission was to enthrone Christ within the existing framework of Indian society and he left it to Indians themselves to bring about necessary social reforms. Moreover, it was then too early to abolish the caste system, for it must be remembered that de Nobili started his work in Madura in the first decade of the iyth century. De Nobili's sincerity, zeal and extensive knowledge of India

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and her people always scored for him well deserved victories over his adversaries. He tore the arguments of his ignorant accusers to pieces; he convinced the enlightened and confounded men of little knowledge. But his enterprising enemies carried the war outside India. Rome began to get continuous reports of a disquieting nature about the activities of the Madura Mission. But when enquiries brought matters to the fundamentals, Father Robert's accusers could do no more than fumble about the cord and the Kudumi and exhibit a vague uneasiness about the way de Nobili and his followers looked. Anyway report after report reached Rome and de Nobili became a problem to Christendom in general and to the Pope in particular. The controversy raged in Goa, Cochin and Cranganoor and even in Europe de Nobili's strange activities led to heated disputes. The Pope was finally pressed for a verdict. After an exhaustive enquiry into the subject, conducted by able doctors of law and doctrine, de Nobili's methods were declared quite valid and in the year 1623 Pope Gregory XV in a notable bull ruled as follows: "Brahmins are kept from confession of Christ by difficulties about the cord and the Kudumi. Desiring to procure the conversion of these nations, after suitable discussion we accord to the Brahmins and other Gentiles the cord and the Kudumi, sandal paste and purification of the body. These should not be received in idol temples, but only from priests after they have blessed them." Thus de Nobili won his final victory. But he had to pay a heavy price. The charges he had to answer in person constantly necessitated his absence from Madura, and the controversy became so widespread and public that it was all too plain to the Brahmins of Madura that though de Nobili was not a Parangi, he had some intimate relations with them and that they held authority over him. This made his position in Madura difficult. De Nobili now abandoned the role of the recluse and took to the life of the other well-known Hindu teacher, the wandering Sadhu. With a band of devoted followers de Nobili wandered all over South India, from village to village, from city to city,

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teaching, comforting and baptizing. His converts were drawn from all sections of the community and the higher castes enjoyed all their traditional social privileges. The wandering pilgrim commanded the respect of all who came in contact with him. Churches sprang up all over South India. The followers of de Nobili had no political advantages to gain by conversion. A genuine yearning for a God of Mercy and Righteousness who desired devotion and a contrite heart was the only motive for conversion. The congregations of the Madura Mission increased day by day, and the fame of the Mission spread not only throughout India but all over Christendom. For over forty years did de Nobili work in India. He went to Ceylon to spend the evening ofhis life in meditation and prayer, but his spirit could find no peace away from the plains of the South he loved so dearly. He returned to India and when the end appeared nigh, retired to the shrine of St. Thomas at Mylapore where he lived in a mud hut. Old, feeble and blind he continued the austere life of the Sadhu till the very end, which came on the i6th of February in the year 1656 at the age of eighty. Not less than 100,000 Christians are attributed to him. His contribution to Tamil literature was also considerable. Even in his old age he kept four secretaries busy writing down the outpouring ofhis soul. De Nobili loved India and Indians and their way of life. In his deep insight into human nature, in his sympathy with Indian culture and traditions, in his recognition of the prophetic presage of Indian sages of the coming of the Saviour, he stands alone among the Europeans ofhis time who were inclined to treat the Hindus as a God-forsaken set of idolaters. Critics are not even now rare who consider de Nobili as an impostor and his work as a gigantic fraud. In support of their arguments they point out the rapid decline of the Madura Christians and their virtual disappearance which they attribute to want of spiritual vitality. But the Christian communities of Madura suffered many things of many men. The brutal soldiery of Tippu were their worst enemies. If the nascent community could not

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survive the anarchy that overwhelmed South India soon after it was founded and the violent persecutions of Tippu and petty chieftains, the blame does not fall on the founder or his methods. Before passing rash judgement on de Nobili we will do well to remember that the communities Apostle Thomas himself founded on the plains of the South India perished soon after his departure and the lamp at his shrine had to be tended by Muslim admirers of the saint. Nor is it correct to judge the work of de Nobili by his formal adherents alone; for his life and doctrines penetrated farther than the church he organized and nowhere in India except Malabar is Christian influence so marked even at present as in the Tamil countries. The great work of de Nobili was continued by John de Britto, another Jesuit, a greater intellectual and zealot than de Nobili himself. His proficiency in Tamil was such that he was acclaimed the greatest of contemporary Tamil writers. His labours in the Madura Mission were as arduous as those of de Nobili himself. "In the greater church of all Christ's followers, his eminence as a disciple, intrepid, selfless, and enduring in all great qualities that add to the vigour of the Christian life is assured. He is not only among the first since the Apostolic days, he is really with Robert de Nobili, the greatest among missionaries "in India of the Church of Rome, and one of the greatest in the wider Church of Christ."* This praise of a protestant missionary is well deserved. Britto worked in the Madura Mission for over sixteen years. His zeal and sacrifice and his sufferings won for him many adherents. But unfortunately he had to contend with anarchical political conditions in the regions he worked. The old Tamil kingdom had collapsed and there was a desperate scramble for power by petty tyrants. The enemies of de Nobili and de Britto found their long awaited opportunity in the turmoil, and desperate political upstarts were available to do the direst deed. The Madura Christians were violently persecuted and de Britto shared their sufferings and had to undergo imprisonment and torture. He was released and * William Robinson of the L.M.S. mission.

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soon after went to Portugal, but the call of India was irresistible and he returned to Ramnad, where the conversion of a local chieftain led to trouble with the Rajah. De Britto was arrested, tortured and put to death. After the martyrdom of de Britto in 1693, the affairs of the Madura mission fell in a bad way, but in the year 1707 another celebrated Jesuit missionary reached India bent upon continuing de Nobili's work. He was Father Joseph Beschi. He was an Italian and emphatically renewed the claims of de Nobili for Roman Brahminhood, a position which John de Britto because of his Portuguese origin could not claim. Beschi, however, adopted a line of approach to the Hindu heart which differed considerably from that of de Nobili. This was also inspired by a sound understanding of Hindus and Hinduism. Though the ascetics and wandering Sanyasins commanded great respect among Hindus, there were also religious heads among them who lived like princes and awed the public by their aloofness and worldly power. They were learned and venerable men who commanded the homage of influential communities and were competent to pronounce judgement on all disputed points of religious law and practice. Tfrey officiated during the coronation ceremonies of princes and chieftains and were their preceptors and advisers. While living a strict religious life, they usually confined themselves to the four corners of their palaces and appeared in public only on grand occasions. De Nobili and de Britto had impressed South India by their ascetic and wandering life, but Beschi decided to assume the role of the High Priest of the Madura Mission. In his personal life he was an ascetic, but for overawing the people he adopted a showy life. He travelled in ivory palanquins, surrounded by numerous disciples. The silk umbrella, the insignia of royalty, was carried before the vehicle in which he travelled. He reclined on superb couches, and attendants fanned him with fly whisks of yak or peacock tail. Father Beschi's scholarship in Tamil was even greater than that of de Britto. His books are read with delight by all sections of

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Tamilians, Christians and non-Christians alike. His literary distinction won for him the friendship of Chanda Sahib, the Nawab of Vellore, who presented him with four villages in the Trichinopoly district which yielded an annual revenue of Rs. 12,000. The Madura Mission reached the zenith of its glory under Father Beschi. The congregation spread throughout the Tamil country and the number of Christians was about 200,000. But with the death of Beschi in 1742 decline set in. The over-enthusiasm of the Jesuits brought them into conflict with the other orders of the Catholic Church and with secular authority. Their activities were viewed with suspicion and distrust. In the general atmosphere of antagonism the critics of the Jesuits of the Madura Mission succeeded in getting the support of influential ecclesiastical authorities who denounced the activities of the Mission as a fraud. In 1759 when the Order of Jesuits was suppressed in Portugal, the Madura Jesuits were, without notice, deported from the shores of India. This was the virtual collapse of the Madura Church. Its founders were busy in enlarging the sphere of their activities and increasing the number of their following when misfortune overtook them. Given time they would have organised the Madura Church on a sound basis, built up a hierarchy of responsible Indians, and this would have given rise to a powerful community of Christians comparable to the Syrians of Malabar. But before the structure was complete, the rains came, the wind blew and the builders were called away. After the withdrawal of the Jesuits, the Portuguese power itself was scarcely felt in India.. New Nations had risen in the West who had driven away the Portuguese from the Indian seas. In India itself there was confusion and anarchy. Political turmoil, neglect and active persecution all but annihilated the Madura Church. When, during the early years of the nineteenth century the Abbe Dubois visited India, he found but a scattered community without any leaders, organisation or status. About 60,000, the Abbe tells us, had been forcibly converted to Islam by the soldiers of Tippu.

CHAPTER VI THE SYRIANS AND THE PORTUGUESE THE cordiality that existed between the Portuguese and the Syrian Christians of Malabar during the first few years of their contact did not last long. If anything, the two nations as they came to know more about each other began to develop mutual contempt. The Syrians, as we have seen, looked upon the Portuguese as an unclean people not good enough for social intercourse. The Portuguese, on the other hand, could see nothing in the Syrians to justify their aloofness and superiority complex. Compared to the powerful Portuguese, lords of the Eastern Seas and rolling in wealth amassed by the trade with the East, the Syrians were a poor community. They were subjects of Hindu Rajahs and had no independent status. The way of life of the Syrians appeared to the Portuguese more pagan than Christian, and the generality of the Portuguese could not escape a feeling that the Syrians were no better than Hindus for whom they had the utmost contempt. Hence they could attribute the aloofness of the Syrians only to perversity. Discerning men among the Portuguese, both among the clergy and laity, had visions of a fusion of the two communities to the advantage of both. The Syrians had excellent military traditions and could put in the field in an emergency a respectable army of 20,000 fighting men, and with the superior discipline and equipment of the Portuguese a combined army could be quite formidable both on land and sea. A Syrian community loyal to the Portuguese could also obviate the need for drawing recruits from Portugal, a tedious process at the time because of the difficulties of communication; in an emergency the Portuguese were usually at a loss to know how to raise a reliable army in India. Intermarriages and free social contacts between the Portuguese and Syrians would have created quite a powerful Christian kingdom in India. 76

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But the Syrian Christians had different views. They were inveterate conservatives, and to them pride of race and ancient traditions were dearer than political and economic advancement, and they persistently rejected all Portuguese proposals to befriend and fraternize. Where women were concerned, they followed Brahmin notions of purity and the giving of a Syrian Christian girl of good family in marriage to a Parangi of whatever position was unimaginable to them. The clergy had an additional interest in bringing the Syrians under Goa. The Portuguese power was rapidly rising in the East and the ecclesiastical authorities in Goa thought they were the natural guardians of all Christians who lived in regions where Portuguese political influence was felt. It irked them to note that while most of the Christian communities of the Indian Coast owed allegiance to Goa, the Syrians who were the most important received their Bishops from elsewhere. Further, the Syrian rite which they could not understand was thought to contain many errors inspired by Nestorian influence. All told, the Portuguese considered it desirable to bring the Syrians under the authority of Goa. That the Syrian Church stood badly in need of reforms, no impartial person can deny. With the rise of Muslim power the Malabar Church, as we have seen, lived in practical isolation and the arrival of Bishops from overseas was far from regular. The area ruled by the Syrian Bishop was too unwieldy to be effectively controlled from one centre, and at times when the arrival of a Bishop was delayed nothing prevented bold Cattanars (as the clergy among the Syrians were called) from propounding their own doctrines independent of the Archdeacons. The fact that the Syrians were distributed under three independent Rajahs also made cohesion difficult. Besides, some of the Cattanars had large families and poor relatives and a few at least were not above imposing exactions on their flock and demanding exorbitant fees for the administration of spiritual comforts. The Bishops themselves were foreigners who did not know the language of the people and the virtual rulers of the community were the

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Archdeacons whose office was hereditary in the Pakalomattam family converted by St. Thomas and invested with authority over the Christians of Malabar. The evils of hereditary rule in the ecclesiastical field are too obvious to be enumerated here. Besides, long association with the Hindus had led the Syrians to borrow many of the beliefs and practices of their neighbours which were not in conformity with orthodox Christian principles. All this shows that the Syrian Church did stand in need of reforms at the time. St. Francis Xavier knew this. But he knew that India had greater needs and hence he devoted his time and energy for catering to these. He was, however, well disposed towards the community and had great regard for their Bishop, Mar Jacob Abuna. The Portuguese were inclined to treat him with scant respect and Xavier wrote to the king of Portugal strongly recommending him to his favour and asking him to issue instructions to his Governors, Procurators and Captains to treat the venerable old Bishop in a manner befitting his honoured position. Further, "Your Highness should write to him recommending him very much to recommend you to God, for Your Highness needs more to be favoured by the Bishop in his prayers than the Bishop needs the temporal favour of Your Highness. He has been working much amongst the St. Thomas Christians, and now in his old age he is very obedient to the customs of the Holy Mother the Church of Rome." This leaves us in no doubt as to his allegiance, and he was certainly no Nestorian. Mar Jacob Abuna was a friend of the European missionaries, and he too felt the need for reforms in his Church. With his coordination the Franciscans established, in 1545, a college in Cranganoor with the intention of instructing young Syrians in the Latin rite so that these young men could bring about the necessary reforms in the Syrian Church. A few Syrian youths were educated here but when the young zealots came out of the college to preach their innovations, the general body of the Syrians would not only not accept the innovations but threatened to excommunicate the innovators. This was an eye-opener to the Portuguese.

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They were now convinced of the futility of reasonable persuasion in dealing with the Syrians and decided to have recourse to more direct methods. Ecclesiastical power had by now passed on to the Jesuits and these, in their dealings with the Syrians betrayed a complete lack of understanding of their tenacious attachment to traditions and tried to force their will on the community. With the death of Mar Jacob Abuna in 1549, the Portuguese started direct interference with the Syrian Church. To fill the vacant see, Patriarch Abdiso of Geziresh, who was formally subject to Rome, sent Bishop Mar Joseph to Malabar. The Portuguese who had assumed guardianship of all Christians in South India by virtue of the Padroado thought the right of appointing Bishops for the Syrian Christians belonged to them. The Syrians maintained that the Padroado was inapplicable to the Syrian Church which had been ruled by Bishops from Western Asia from time immemorial but applied only to the neophytes the Portuguese converted. Well, the Padroado was an agreement between the Pope and the king of Portugal who were the final authorities in the dispute; but the Pope was in Rome and the king of Portugal in Lisbon and the difficulties of communication provided the authorities of Goa the necessary excuses for doing what they liked. So when the vessel taking Mar Joseph to Malabar touched Goa in November 1556, the Portuguese interested him in the excellent possibilities of Goa as a health resort, disembarked him there and the vessel sailed without the Bishop. They then wrote to Lisbon and Rome pointing out to the authorities there the impropriety of permitting Eastern Patriarchs to send Bishops to Malabar when they were so near Malabar to look after the Syrian flock. Pending a reply, Mar Joseph was detained at Bassein where he lived as a virtual prisoner. The Portuguese had ample opportunities to study Mar Joseph and his companion, and it is interesting to note that those who moved closely with them had nothing but praise for them. This is evident from a letter written by Father Antonio da Porto to the king of Portugal. Extracts from this letter are reproduced below:

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"I discussed with them many times passages of both the Old and New Testaments, and found that their points of view conformed with that of our doctrines, and as regards the literal meanings, I found they had as much faith as those who were born and lived in the place where the events took place. . . . In the Articles of Faith and the Sacraments of our Holy Mother the Church, I often discussed with them what is fundamental and necessary, and in no way or word found them differing from us. As regards their life and good habits, they were such that they were a good example not pnly to myself, but to the new Christians of this country and the Moors were astonished at their good life and their good doctrine and practice. The Portuguese being more enlightened were so edified by their good life and practice that few spoke with them once without returning to speak again; and many cherished for them great devotion and visited them many times, although they lived in this jungle. They are men who do not eat meat because they belong to the Order of St. Basil, as observed by the Carthusians; they do not eat fish either in Lent or in Advent or on the days of fasting, nor do they drink wine on these days. They are very quiet and retiring, so that they never get out unless absolutely necessary, spending all their time in prayer and contemplation and in studying the Sacred Scripture and the saintly doctors on Scripture which they have." They were found to be such staunch Catholics that the worthy Father taught them how to say Mass in Latin. Although they learnt Latin with alacrity and had no objection to saying Mass in this language, when the Portuguese suggested the introduction of the Latin rite in Malabar and the desirability of bringing the Syrian Church under Goa, the Bishop stoutly refused. This naturally offended the Portuguese and Mar Joseph's detention continued. In the meantime news reached Goa that a Syrian Bishop of obscure origin had appeared in Malabar and was teaching heretical doctrines. This upset the plans of the Portuguese. They now thought Mar Joseph a lesser evil and allowed him to proceed to Malabar.

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Mar Joseph was as much convinced of the need for reforms in the Malabar Church as the Portuguese themselves, and earnestly set to work in this direction. He won the admiration of the Syrians and persuaded the Chaldean Bishop then working in Malabar to go back to where he came from. Mar Joseph now introduced certain reforms in his Church. Among other things he "removed many errors from the Mass, declared some censures void, introduced the sacred vestments, counselled confession, and corrected many other false opinions." The Portuguese, however, thought the reforming zeal of the Bishop inadequate and Father Carneyro, a Jesuit missionary, went about preaching from Parish to Parish and telling the Syrians that they were no better than heretics. Mar Joseph and the Syrians resented this and their antagonism led to the withdrawal of Father Carneyro from Malabar. While he was in Cochin, on his way to Goa, an arrow shot by an unknown hand wounded the Father, and the Portuguese thought that Mar Joseph had something to do with it. They soon discovered serious errors in his teachings and denounced him to Lisbon and to Rome. The Bishop was first asked to go to Goa and thence to Europe. Mar Joseph, confident of his own orthodoxy and allegiance to Rome, was ready to answer any charges and prove his innocence. He promptly proceeded to Goa and from there sailed for Lisbon. Mar Joseph was a man of great charm and the picturesque Syrian won the admiration of the court of Lisbon. He became a favourite of Cardinal Henry and Queen Catherine. His doctrines were examined, and Cardinal Henry found that his only heresy was his unbelief in the necessity for bringing the Syrian Church under Goa. It was a waste of time to send him to Rome to answer charges of heresies which he had never held. So Mar Joseph was sent back to India and peremptory orders were issued to the Archbishop and Viceroy of Goa to send him to his see in Malabar without delay or hindrance. He reached Malabar in 1565, but no sooner had he taken charge of his flock than reports of fresh heresies reached Goa from the Jesuits of Cochin and Cranganoor. The authorities at Goa found

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the charges serious and again denounced Mar Joseph, this time direct to Rome. The Pope ordered an enquiry and Mar Joseph had again to go to Goa to prove his innocence. In the First Council of Goa held in 1567, Mar Joseph was found guilty of all the charges framed by his accusers. With irrefutable evidence of his heresies the Bishop was again sent to Lisbon by the triumphant authorities of Goa who did not fail to point out what a fool the arch-heretic of Malabar had made of Cardinal Henry. Undismayed Mar Joseph again went to Lisbon. Here he produced irrefutable evidence of his innocence. He gave out in detail the reforms he had already introduced in the Malabar Church; for the rest he proved that most of the accusations of the Jesuits rose out of their innocence of Syrian Christian social structure and were purely social matters which had nothing to do with the fundamentals of Christianity. Mar Joseph had no difficulty in convincing Lisbon that the accusations were inspired not by a love of reform but solely by a desire for bringing the Syrians under Goa. Lisbon not only acquitted the Bishop honourably but strongly recommended him to the Pope's favour and sent him to Rome. It did not take Rome much time to find out that Lisbon was right. The personality of the genial Syrian was irresistible. The Pope and the Cardinals were so impressed by him and his brilliant defence that they seriously thought of making him a Cardinal. But the hand of fate interfered and this most remarkable and interesting figure in Syro-Portuguese history passed away in 1569. While Mar Joseph was being shuttled about between Goa and Europe, the Syrians had not been keeping quiet. During the first deportation of Mar Joseph to Lisbon, they applied to Patriarch Abdiso for another Bishop in place of Mar Joseph. The Patriarch sent them Mar Abraham* This prekte differed from the saintly and learned Mar Joseph in many respects. He was less genial and learned, but had greater worldly wisdom and energy; he met the Portuguese on their own ground, returned blow for blow, met cunning by cunning, hypocrisy by hypocrisy and abduction by

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elusion. Benefiting by the experience of his predecessor, Mar Abraham studiously avoided the Portuguese and eluding their vigilance managed to reach the Serra, the hinterland where the agricultural population among the Syrians lived. The Serra was sufficiently far removed from the ports to be safe from the long arm of the Portuguese. He started governing the Syrians from the Serra when Mar Joseph, after proving his innocence in Lisbon returned to Malabar loaded with honours. Mar Abraham now did not know what to do with himself. He sounded Mar Joseph on the desirability of dividing the Malabar Church into two dioceses, but Mar Joseph thought this unreasonable. While he was thus left without a flock and wandering in Malabar, the Portuguese who were smarting under the grievance of his appearance in Malabar without their permission, kidnapped him, accused him of several heinous heresies and sent him to Europe. Before the ship carrying him reached the Cape of Good Hope, Mar Abraham reached patriarch Abdiso, having escaped on the way. The Bishop interested the patriarch in his scheme of the division of the Malabar Church, especially as the area could not be effecttively administered by one Bishop and as it was essential to put the Malabar Church on a higher status to offset the designs and claims of the Portuguese. As Mar Joseph had established direct relations with Lisbon and as the troublesome Portuguese at Goa were not likely to respect his decision, the Patriarch sent Mar Abraham to Rome to get orders from the Supreme Pontiff. Rome was by now quite distracted with this endless trouble between the Portuguese and the Syrians and sent Mar Abraham back to Abdiso to decide between the two Bishops and gave instructions to the Archbishop of Goa to abide by the decision of the Patriarch. The Patriarch decided in favour of Mar Abraham, created the new See of Angamali for him and sent him to Malabar. Fearing no harm from the Portuguese because of the Pope's Bull and the Patriarch's letter, Mar Abraham reached Goa in 1568 on his way to Malabar. The Portuguese however could not resist the temptation of detaining Mar Abraham who had eluded them so many

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times. Besides Mar Abraham had reached Goa at an opportune moment. Mar Joseph had just left India on his second deportation and if the Malabar Church were sufficiently starved for Bishops, the Syrians were likely to swallow any Bishop, even Portuguese. Hence the Portuguese at Goa rejected the letter of the Patriarch as unauthorized and maintained that he had no right to appoint a Bishop or create a see; as for the Pope's Bull they respectfully told Mar Abraham that His Holiness had been misinformed and if the matter would be represented to him in its true light he would gladly revise his hasty decision, and in anticipation of this revision they imprisoned Mar Abraham in a Dominican convent. Mar Abraham did not imagine that the Portuguese would be so disrespectful of authority. Anyway, the prelate did not wait for further orders from Rome. A master in elusiveness, he escaped from the convent and made straight for Cochin. Reaching this port, he calmly presented the Pope's BuU to the Portuguese authorities here, who, quite innocent of the designs of Goa, allowed him to proceed to the Serra and accorded him all facilities to make his journey expeditious and comfortable. By the time orders were received in Cochin from Goa for the arrest of the absconding prelate, Mar Abraham was firmly entrenched in the heart of the Serra as the Archbishop of the Syrian Christians of Malabar. Angamali was a mountainous region inaccessible to the Portuguese and from here he ruled the Syrians without much interference from them. For once the Portuguese were baffled. They did not, however, give up hope. In the year 1575 Mar Abraham received a polite invitation from the Archbishop of Goa to attend the Second Council of Goa. The tone of the letter, however, suggested that Angamali was subordinate to Goa and Mar Abraham was duty bound to attend. The Syrian Archbishop was too shrewd to miss its implications; hence while he refused to attend the Council, he wrote to Rome his reasons for the refusal. He also prevailed upon the Rajah of Cochin in whose kingdom Angamali was situated to write to the Pope that Mar Abraham who enjoyed his patronage was constantly harassed by the Portuguese and had

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been twice captured by them without reason and had to make good his escape. At the insistence of the Archbishop the Rajah had made it plain to the Pontiff that Mar Abraham was an obedient son of Rome and his refusal to attend the Council of Goa was inspired solely by a fear of the Portuguese who had become notorious for double dealings. The design of the Portuguese on the See of Angamali had by now become plain to everybody, and Mar Abraham vigorously fought for the independence of his ancient Church. He addressed Pope Gregory XIII on the matter to whom he sent a Profession of Faith. He then informed his own Patriarch of the evil intentions of the Portuguese and warned him that if he did not take active steps to combat them, the Malabar Church would be grabbed by Goa. He got influential members of the Syrian community to send a petition to the Patriarch impressing upon him the need for appointing at least five Bishops under the Archbishop of Angamali because of the extensive area covered by the Archdiocese and the difficulty of administering it from one centre; the petitioners also made it plain to the Patriarch that the Portuguese were thoroughly hated by the Syrians and if a Latin Bishop were appointed to the See of Angamali even with the permission of the Patriarch, the turbulent element among the Syrians would not hesitate to remove him by force if necessary. These vigorous measures had the desired effect, and the Portuguese realized that Mar Abraham was a man who -vould not willingly accept their yoke. Hence they waited and prayed for something to turn up. Although he fought valiantly all the attempts of the Portuguese to reduce his church to their subjection, Mar Abraham, like Mar Joseph believed that reforms were needed in the Syrian Church. He appreciated the learning of the Jesuit Fathers of Vaipicotta Seminary and accepted, as his adviser, Father Roz, a learned Jesuit. In 1583 he convened a Provincial Synod at Angamali, consisting of his own clergy and two Jesuits from Vaipicotta. The need for several reforms were impressed upon, and the Jesuits and the Syrian clergy unanimously agreed as to the ways and means of giving effect to them.

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The relations between Mar Abraham and the Jesuits improved to such an extent that the Archbishop decided to attend the: Third Council of Goa held in 1585. Mar Abraham, however, was gifted with a keen memory and he attended the Council only on receiving an assurance of honourable treatment from well placed Portuguese officials and a personal undertaking by Father Valignani that he would conduct him safe to Goa and back. The affairs of the Serra were freely discussed in the Council at Goa and Mar Abraham promised to give effect to all the reforms recommended by the Council. On the Archbishop reaching the Serra, complaints that he was not giving effect to any of the reforms reached Goa; further that he had lapsed into Nestorian heresy. These charges were carried to Rome, and Pope Clement VIII expressed sorrow on the lapses of Mar Abraham and asked the Archbishop of Goa to enquire into the charges. This was the order Goa had all along been waiting for. But before the instructions reached Goa, Mar Abraham fell seriously ill and Goa could neither summon him nor send any one to torture a dying man with enquiries. Mar Abraham did not survive the illness but died in the year 1597. The death of Mar Abraham gave the Portuguese, at long last, the opportunity for successfully carrying out their designs on Angamali. And with the hour came the man. He was Alexio de Menezies. Alexio de Menezies was an ecclesiastic of extraordinary ability and resources. He enjoyed the special confidence of Lisbon and Rome and was appointed Archbishop of Goa in 1595. He was well connected and the Viceroy of Goa had the greatest regard and respect for him. Menezies considered the reduction of the Syrians to Goa as his life mission. The ascending power and prestige of the Portuguese and the respect their arms inspired in the East lent considerable support to the plans of Menezies. He had, however, no original plans; his success was mainly due to the extraordinary vigour and want of scruples with which he pushed forward the plans of his predecessors. Menezies' first attempt was to impress Rome and get the

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necessary authority from the Pope for the execution of his schemes. The interminable reports of heresy of the Syrian Bishops the Portuguese constantly sent Rome began to bear fruit; Rome was inclined to believe that there was something in it. The Portuguese were in a favourable position to present their case forcefully while the Syrians could only send an occasional petition which in all probability never reached Rome. Besides it appeared at the time that in a short while Portuguese expansion would embrace the whole Eastern world, and Rome was inclined to the view that it would be desirable to bring the Syrian Church under the Portuguese. Hence, as we have already seen, Pope Clement VIII had ordered the Archbishop of Goa to enquire into the charges against Mar Abraham, and by the time the order reached Goa the Syrian Bishop had fallen seriously ill. Menezies could not summon Mar Abraham to Goa nor did he wish to conduct an enquiry at Angamali when the Syrian Bishop was on his deathbed. So he decided to abide his time; meanwhile he took certain preliminary measures for the successful execution of his plan. Menezies decided that no Bishop owing allegiance to Rome or elsewhere should reach Malabar without his permission and ordered a general blockade of the Indian Seas. The Captains of all Portuguese vessels had strict instructions to ascertain the identity of all Syrians and Armenians and return any Bishop of these nationals to where he came from. In case of doubt, the suspect was to be detained and referred to Goa. Similarly all the civil and ecclesiastical authorities of the ports were ordered to be vigilant and not to let any Bishop or doubtful persons from Western Asia pass the ports without instructions from Goa. These orders were strictly enforced on land and sea and no Bishop escaped the vigilance of the Portuguese. One Bishop, however, tried to run the blockade; he was captured at Ormuz and sent back to Babylon. Another tried to travel through Mogul India to Malabar but he never reached his destination. During this blockade of the Indian Seas, Mar Abraham died and pending the arrival of a new Bishop, Archdeacon George of the

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Pakalomattam family acted as the interim head of the Syrian Church in conformity with traditions. This arrangement, for obvious reasons, did not suit the convenience of Archbishop Menezies who appointed Father Francis Roz, the Jesuit adviser of the late Mar Abraham, as the Vicar Apostolic of the vacant See of Angamali. The design of Menezies was now quite clear to Archdeacon George. He was an able man and did what he could to retain the independence of his ancient church. But not being an ordained Bishop he lacked the authority and self confidence of Mar Joseph and Mar Abraham; his own sovereign, the Rajah of Cochin, was a staunch ally of the Portuguese to whom he was much indebted, and was but vaguely interested in the religious quarrels of the Syrians; and most important of all, George had to fight a more powerful and masterly tactician than the Bishops had, for all accounts show that Menezies was one of the most energetic and determined men Portugal had ever sent out to India. With the appointment of Francis Roz as the Vicar Apostolic, Archdeacon George stirred up the Syrians. There was resentment throughout Malabar and the Syrians did not permit their Vicar Apostolic to enter their churches. Menezies now retraced his steps. He realized that he had acted hastily and cancelled his orders in connection with the appointment of Father Roz as the Vicar Apostolic. He confirmed Archdeacon George as the Vicar but appointed Father Roz and the Rector of Vaipicotta Seminary as his advisers. George gracefully accepted his own confirmation, but thought himself competent to ride the Syrians without the advice of Father Roz and the Rector. News of the capture of the Babylonian Bishop and the blockade of the high seas by the Portuguese now reached the Serra. The enraged Archdeacon ordered a general assembly of the Syrians and a large number of Cattanars and laity gathered at Angamali; the Archdeacon made every Cattanar and layman swear that he would accept no Bishop appointed by Goa and pending the arrival of a Bishop from Western Asia would obey him as the head of the Syrian Church. He exhorted the people and the clergy to

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resist all European innovations in the Syrian Church as a retaliatory measure against the Portuguese blockade. The whole of the Serra was thoroughly roused and when disaffection was at its worst and the feelings against the Portuguese most bitter, Archbishop Menezies decided to visit the Serra; a measure that speaks abundantly for the courage of the man and his sincerity. In fact, it was this bold and original move to study the affairs of the Serra in person and to befriend the Syrians that paved the way for the success of his eventful mission; for once in their midst, the Syrians found that Menezies was one of the born leaders of men and they accepted his leadership almost as a matter of course. On the ist February 1599, Archbishop Menezies landed in Cochin and sent an invitation to Archdeacon George to go and meet him. He solemnly declared in the invitation that the Archdeacon's personal liberty would be most scrupulously safeguarded, and his erroneous action in rousing the Syrians against his Archbishop had been pardoned. Archdeacon George did not know what exactly to make of this invitation. The Archbishop's fame had preceded him and it was widely known in Malabar that he was a man powerful enough to give orders to the Portuguese Governor of Cochin, the most respected and feared political authority on the Malabar Coast. His standing with the authorities at Goa and Lisbon was also reputed high. Hence it would have been indiscreet for the Archdeacon to decline Menezies' invitation. George decided to go to Cochin and meet the Archbishop. But he could not make out what the Archbishop exactly wanted. The fame of the Portuguese for kidnapping Syrians had not yet died down, and the Archdeacon started from the Serra for Cochin at the head of an army of 3,000 picked Syrians whom he called his bodyguard. It was now the turn of Menezies to be mystified. He was not, to be sure, frightened of the Syrians kidnapping him. The Rajah of Cochin in whose territory Angamali was situated could be depended upon to see to that, even if the Portuguese were unable to protect him at the moment. But the Syrians could be quite violent when excited, and it was unnecessary, any way, for the

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Archdeacon to bring so many of them armed to the teeth; so he sent word to jhe Archdeacon reiterating his first assurances of personal safety of the Archdeacon and pointing out there was no need to bring 3,000 armed men as a bodyguard. On this the Archdeacon left the major part of his army behind and proceeded to Cochin. In the meeting, the persuasive Archbishop did not find much difficulty in having his own way with the Archdeacon. The public profession of faith of Mar Joseph and Mar Abraham and his own prestige stood the Archbishop in good stead. When asked to sign the clause in which the allegiance of the Syrian Church was to be transferred to Goa, the Archdeacon, however, hesitated. Again the personality of Menezies prevailed. He pointed out to the Archdeacon that it was unreasonable for him to owe allegiance to Babylon when he, Menezies, had confirmed him in his office and Babylon was not in a position to afford help in case the local Rajahs proved hostile; the all-powerful Portuguese fleet was always ready at Cochin to fly to his aid in case of an emergency. Archdeacon George knew he was fighting a losing battle and he signed the instrument. According to the agreement a Synod of all the Gattanars and leading laity was to be held under die auspices of the Archbishop in order to purge the Syrian Church of its errors and bring it under Goa. When the people came to know about the agreement, they were considerably perturbed and there was resentment all over the Serra. But Menezies soon won over the people to his side. Until now, as we have seen, the Archbishops of Goa had been negotiating with the Syrian Bishops through intermediaries and the dilatory process of correspondence. Menezies abandoned this slow and roundabout method and decided to address the people direct. He undertook a tour of the Serra, and wherever the mighty Archbishop appeared the people were greatly impressed by his personality and sincere concern for the Syrian Church. La this ecclesiastical tour Menezies took care to put forth the greatness of Portugal in dazzling splendour and the Syrians who had seen neither royalty nor episcopal pomp in such magnificence were

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swept off their feet. He celebrated Easter at the important Syrian centre of Kaduthurithi with such showy publicity that the people wondered how such a lofty personage could condescend to be in their midst. His liberality was as magnificent as his greatness. He lavished money and presents on the people with the abandon of an emperor who had won a battle and plundered a rich kingdom. Archdeacon George thought this was bribery, but the worthy Archbishop said his liberality was inspired by Christian charity. Anyway, the Archbishop became sufficiently popular with the Syrians to administer the sacrament of Confirmation in Syrian Churches and ordain priests for them without the permission of the Archdeacon. In fact the Syrians vied with one another for the privilege of receiving confirmation and ordination from so great an ecclesiastic. All told, before the Archdeacon knew what was happening Menezies had secured for himself more than a majority for the forthcoming Synod. Menezies now knew his Syrians well. He found that the people generally had nothing in common with their Bishops. The local language of the people, Malayalam, was as different from Syriac as was Latin. The Portuguese missionaries knew more about Syrians and their way of life than Persian or Babylonian Bishops. Menezies thought that Babylon was a weakening link, a mere memory with no vitality. Goa, on the other hand, was a living force with infinite prestige, in close proximity to the land of the Syrians, and he felt sure that the Syrians would accept its authority if properly presented. Anyway, Menezies left nothing to chance. He ordered the priests of Vaipicotta, Cochin and Cranganoor to launch an intensive campaign among the people to familiarize them with the proposed innovations. This campaign and his own extensive tours had the desired effect. The Archdeacon was now thoroughly alarmed. When he had signed the agreement mentioned elsewhere, he had but a hazy idea of the exact nature of the reform. He had, in all probability, thought that his traditional authority over the Syrians would be respected. But in the Archbishop's tours, his ordaining priests

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and administering sacraments without anybody's leave, the general attitude of Menezies suggested that there existed no such person in the Serra as an Archdeacon. The Archdeacon remonstrated with the Archbishop, but by now the latter was in a very sound position to ignore the Archdeacon. He took no notice of the plaints of George. In sheer despair the Archdeacon excommunicated his Archbishop. Menezies now produced his trump card. He sent an urgent note to the Rajah of Cochin asking him to impress vpon the Archdeacon the need for treating him with due respect. The Rajah was a staunch ally of the Portuguese and had benefited much by the alliance. He was greatly flattered by the presence of Menezies in his dominions. The manner in which the prelate ostentatiously ordered the Governor of Cochin about left the Rajah in no doubt as to the power and prestige of Menezies. Hence the Rajah felt greatly hurt on hearing that one of his own subjects had the audacity to excommunicate the distinguished visitor. He was but vaguely interested in the quarrels of the Christians. Menezies, it is said, had supplemented his request to the Rajah with a handsome present in cash. How far this is correct is not known. What is known is that Archdeacon George received peremptory orders from the Rajah to behave himself. This completely crushed the Archdeacon. The rest of the story was all a one-sided affair. The Archdeacon cancelled his order of excommunication and wooed his powerful rival. Menezies pressed his advantage hard and George was immediately asked to accept the following ten conditions as a preliminary step to the convening of the Synod: 1. Abjuration of all doctrines the Archbishop considered heretical. 2. A declaration to the effect that the Law of St. Thomas is the same as the Law of St. Peter. 2. Acceptance of the Profession of Faith which the Archbishop had sent him from Goa on the death of Mar Abraham.

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4. Submission of all Syrian books in the Archdiocese for correction or burning as the Archbishop thought fit. 5. Rejection of the authority of the Patriarch of Babylon and severing all connection from him. 6. Recognition of the Pope as the Supreme Head of the Church of Christ. 7. Rejection of all Bishops not approved by Goa. 8. Acknowledgement of the Archbishop of Goa as his ecclesiastical superior. 9. Circulation of letters commanding all Cattanars in the diocese to attend the forthcoming Synod, and the acceptance of the degrees of the Synod as binding on the Archdeacon and all those under his authority. 10. The attendance of the Archdeacon, in person and without a bodyguard, in the Archbishop's visitation of the parishes. The Archdeacon put off signing the document as long as he could on some pretext or bther. But the excuses for delay were, however, satisfactorily settled for him by Menezies and George had to sign it. Preparations for the Synod were now made in right earnest. The date fixed was 20th June 1599, the thkd Sunday after Pentecost, and the place Diamper (Udayamperoor, in Malayalam) a Christian centre a few miles south west of the port of Cochin. The Archbishop and the Archdeacon sent out separate circulars commanding all Cattanars to attend it. Those who could not attend had to produce valid reasons for absence without which, they were warned, they were liable to be excommunicated. Each parish had to send four representative leaders from the laity. The object of the Synod was given in detail in the circular Menezies had sent out which has been carefully preserved. Among other things, the circular mentions: "We give you all, and every one of you in particular, to understand that the most Holy Father, Pope Clement VIII our Lord Bishop of Rome, and Vicar of our Lord Jesus Christ upon earth, D*

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at this time presiding in the Church of God; having sent two briefs directed to us, one on the 2yth January, in the year 1595, and the other on the 2ist of the same month, in the year 1597; in which by virtue of his pastoral office and that universal power bequeathed to the supreme, holy, and Apostolic chair of St. Peter over all the churches in the world by Jesus Christ, the Son of God, our Lord and Redeemer, he commanded us upon the death of the Archbishop Mar Abraham, to take possession of this Church and Bishopric, so as not to suffer any Bishop or prelate coming from Babylon, to enter therein, as has hitherto been the custom, all that come thence being schismatics, heretics and Nestorians, out of the obedience of the Holy Roman Church, and subject to the Patriarch of Babylon, the head of the said heresy; and to appoint a governor or Apostolic Vicar to rule the said diocese both in spirituals and temporals, until such time as the Holy Roman Church shall provide it with a proper pastor; which being read by us we were desirous to execute the Apostolic mandate with due reverence and obedience; besides, that the same was incumbent on us of right as the metropolitan and primate of this and all other churches of the Indies and the oriental parts. "But perceiving that our mandate in that behalf had no effect, what we had ordered not having been obeyed in the said diocese, so that what our most holy father, the Bishop of Rome, had designed, was like to be frustrated; after having laboured therein for the space of two years, schism and disobedience to the Apostolic See, having been so rooted in that diocese for a great many years, that the inhabitants thereof instead of yielding obedience to the Apostolical and our mandates; on the contrary, upon the intimation thereof did daily harden themselves more and more, committing greater offences against the obedience of the Holy Roman Church; after having commended the matter to God and ordered the same to be done through our whole diocese, and after mature advice by what methods the Apostolical mandates might be best executed; and being also moved by the piety of the people and the mercy God had shown them in having preserved so many thousand souls in the faith of our Lord Jesus

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Christ, from the time that the holy Apostle St. Thomas had preached to them until this date, notwithstanding their having lived among so many heathens, and been scattered in diverse places, their churches and all belonging to them having been always subject to idolatorous kings and princes, incompassed with idols and pagodas, and that without holding any other Christians before the coming of the Portuguese in these parts; we being likewise desirous that the labours of the holy Apostle St. Thomas, which still remained among them, should not be lost for want of sound doctrines; and as the Apostolic mandates might not be frustrated, and determined, and having provided for the government of our own church during our absence, did prepare to go in person to take possession of the said Bishopric, to see if by our presence we might be able to reduce them to the obedience of the Holy Roman Church, and purge out the heresies and false doctrines sown among them, and introduced by the schismatical prelates and Nestorian heretics, that had governed them under the obedience of the Patriarch of Babylon; as also to call in and purge the books containing these heresies; and according to our pastoral duties so far as God should enable us to preach to them in person the Catholic faith. "Accordingly, going in the said Bishopric, we set about visiting the Churches thereof; but at that time, Satan, the great enemy of the good of souls, having stirred up great commotions, and much opposition to this our just intent, great numbers departing from us, and forming a schism against the Holy Roman Church; after having passed through many troubles and dangers, out of all which, God of the great mercy, not remembering our sins and evil deeds was pleased to deliver us, and to grant us an entire peace, for the merits of the glorious Apostle St. Thomas, the Patron of this Christianity, but chiefly of his own great clemency and mercy, which make, that does not delight in the death of a sinner, but rather that he should return and live; and by coming all to the light of truth may join us in the confession of the Catholic faith, approving our doctrine and intention and submitting themselves to the obedience of the Holy Roman Church; which being by us

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observed, after having returned thanks to God, we thought fit, in order to the compassing and securing of all those good effects, to assemble a diocesan synod in some commodious place near the middle of the said diocese, there to treat of all such matters as faith and divine worship, the good of the church, the extirpation of vice, the reformation of the Christians of the said diocese, and the profit and peace of their souls; to which end, having pitched upon the town and church of Diamper, we do hereby let all the inhabitants and Christians of the said Bishopric, as well ecclesiastic as laicks, of what state or condition soever, to understand, that we do call and assemble a diocesan synod in the said town of Diamper, on the 2Oth June of this present year, 1599, being the third Sunday after Whitsuntide." The Archdeacon's circular had probably a different tale to tell, but it has not been preserved. Anyway, the Synod met as scheduled and it was a thoroughly representative body. From among the St. Thomas Christians, 153 Cattanars and deacons, and 671 procurators of the people attended it. Besides the Archbishop and a large number of European priests, important Portuguese civil authorities including the Governor of Cochin were present. Matters were freely discussed through the services of able interpreters, and the decrees were read out, and amendments suggested and carefully and elaborately discussed. The Syrians had been tutored in advance, and they had no difficulty in accepting most of the decrees. But on the second day when the formula for the Confession of Faith was read out, there was general disapproval as the formula seemed to leave in doubt whether the Syrians were Christians at all before the advent of the worthy prelate. The tactful Archbishop rose to the occasion, solemnly confirmed his conviction of the adherence of the Malabar Church to Christ from the time of St. Thomas onwards, and maintained that the Confession of Faith was mere reaffirmation of old beliefs with necessary improvements. This quietened the Syrians, and after this there was little opposition. The proceedings went on for eight days, and Menezies made all the representatives of the Syrian Church accept on solemn oath

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the reforms he wished to bring about. It is not possible to give in detail here all the decrees of the Synod, and their amendments. Suffice it to say that the Syrian Church was made dependent on Goa and the old connection with Babylon was severed. Of the reforms mention may be made of some of the more important. The Cattanars had been indifferent to their duties and they were enjoined to say Mass every day. Simony, which was rampant among some sections of the clergy, was strictly forbidden. Priests were forbidden to marry, and those who were already married were discouraged to have anything to do with their wives. New sacraments were introduced, and confession was made compulsory before receiving Holy Communion. All Syriac books were surrendered for correction or destruction, and some of them were burnt.* The Syrian rite and language were, however, retained. The Syrians were enjoined to show better missionary zeal. Veneration of the saints of the Roman Calendar was introduced and churches were to be adorned with images and paintings. The casting of horoscopes and cures according to Parsiman,f a Persian work, was forbidden. Early baptism was made compulsory. The use of bells and candles was introduced in the churches. One of the decrees forbad people from sleeping in the churches; J another condemned untouchability and other caste regulations but permitted them as a concession to the social prejudices of the Syrians and in recognition of the need for maintaining prestige in a caste ridden country. The Synod of Diamper has been a matter of bitter controversy in Malabar and elsewhere. The tone of the Syrians in general and of the Syrian Catholics in particular indicates that the Synod was * Some historians find in this a parallel to Omar's destruction of the Alexandrian library. This is, no doubt, an exaggeration. But it is quite certain that many books of historical value were lost together with those that were objectionable and superstitious. •j" The Parsiman, supposed to be a work on medicine and strange cures, taught, among other dungs, the seduction of women by love charms, preparation of poison and destruction of enemies by magic and casting out devils from possessed individuals. J The Syrian churches were at times used as inns by pilgrims.

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imposed upon them by the unscrupulous and crafty Menezies from purely political motives without the sanction of the Pope. This is not, however, the whole truth. That Menezies had political motives is quite true; that he often stooped to unfair means in gaining his end is also true. But it must be borne in mind that die Syrians themselves had sound reasons for an alliance with the Portuguese, and the interest Menezies showed in their welfare convinced the intelligent, at any rate for the time being, that friendship with the Portuguese and their patronage would definitely advance their interests. The Portuguese expansion at the time was so vigorous that it promised to embrace in its wide sweep the whole of India if not Asia. The Syrians, as we have seen, had suffered much at the hands of the Muslims and some of the petty chieftains were inclined to treat their ancient privileges with scant respect. And Menezies they knew was a man who was sincerely interested in them and was in a position to promote their welfare. The genuine enthusiasm he inspired throughout Malabar shows that few, except Archdeacon George and his close associates, took him for a merciless tyrant overrunning a defenceless people, and all were inclined to view him as a leader and a patron. The fact that one day while the Synod was in progress seventy-five Syrian representatives demanded an assurance from the prelate that if they took the oath of allegiance to Goa, the king of Portugal should take them under his protection and exempt them from certain taxes they had to pay, supports \this statement. It may be mentioned that Menezies readily agreed to this and on a sign from the mighty prelate, Don Antonio, the Governor of Cochin, knelt before the Archbishop and accepted the responsibility for protecting the Syrians on behalf of his royal master. Lest this should alarm the Rajah of Cochin, Menezies that very day wrote to the Rajah to say that the protection the Portuguese extended to the Syrians was confined to spiritual matters and they had not the slightest intention of interfering with the legitimate authority His Highness exercised over his Syrian subjects in temporal matters. Soon after the termination of the Synod, the Archbishop

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decided to give effect to the reforms personally. The danger of leaving this important task to the Archdeacon and the Cattanars was quite obvious, and with the thoroughness that characterised all his actions Menezies proceeded to enforce the reforms. In order to effect this the Archbishop undertook an extensive tour of visitation of his newly acquired diocese. Wherever the Archbishop went with his pompous retinue, unprecedented popular enthusiasm welcomed him. Newly composed songs in his praise greeted him in every parish and the path he trod on was thickly strewn with flowers. His Grace gracefully responded to the enthusiasm of his flock and in one parish, according to a legend, cakes distributed by the prelate to the children contained each a hidden gold coin. Even the Hindus were greatly impressed and the whole of Malabar vibrated with a new energy and the prestige of the Christians rose very high indeed. The innovations the Archbishop introduced were immediately and enthusiastically accepted. For once the old prejudice against the Parangi was forgotten. This enthusiasm was not, however, universally shared. In some parishes the subtle humour of the Syrian Christian asserted itself. In old Palur, for instance, a stage show organized for the entertainment of the prelate had some interesting features of topical interest. Palur was situated in the northernmost extremity of the diocese and the parish was under the Zamorin who had always viewed the activities of the Portuguese with suspicion; hence the parishioners were in a better position than the Cochinites to give expression to their feelings. The main characters of the farce were St. Peter, St. Thomas and St. Syriac, the patron saint of the parish. The subject matter was the activity of Archbishop Alexio de Menezies. In a conversation between St. Peter and St. Thomas the latter accused St. Peter of sending to Malabar Menezies 'a very enterprising man, who by sheer violence, has maintained the cause of the Portuguese*. St. Thomas maintained that their ancient usages, introduced by him, personally, were good enough for the Syrians. St. Peter agreed that the usages introduced by St. Thomas were good, but the

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innovations were better. A lengthy dispute now followed, and St. Syriac was called in to judge between the two. St. Syriac instead of deciding between the Apostles, passed judgement between the Patriarch of Babylon and the Archbishop of Goa. He maintained that the Patriarch of Babylon was the true pastor of the Syrians and the Portuguese Archbishop 'who declares to the contrary is a heretic, against whom it is necessary that the Indian Christians should be on their guard. They ought not to surrender their faith to him; and the oaths he exhorted at Diamper are manifestly null and void." Menezies did not find the performance very interesting. He suppressed it and declared that the originators of the drama and its principal characters were possessed of the devil. Such incidents were, however, rare, and the Malabar Church as a whole was delighted with the change and their new Archbishop. Soon after the tour of visitation, Archbishop Menezies left Malabar, having realized the greatest ambition of his life. There was great rejoicing in Goa and Portugal on the successful termination of the Archbishop's enterprise. In 1601, Menezies secured for his faithful assistant and adviser, Francis Roz, the See of AngamaH, which was now made a Diocese Suffragan of Goa. But the story does not end here. The successful end of Menezies' mission was but the beginning of the real trouble. Francis Roz found his flock too turbulent for him. The new Bishop was more learned than able. He lacked the drive and initiative of Menezies and the problem that met him at every step baffled him. He too, like Menezies, undertook a tour of his vast diocese; but though well received the Bishop's tour proved but a shadow of the pageant of his great predecessor. Roz was a good man but he failed to impress. Besides, by now the Syrians had sufficient time to recover from the feverish enthusiasm Menezies had worked them into. The magnificient illusion the arch-showman from Goa had created vanished with his departure, and the Syrians had now time to contemplate in retrospect the happenings of Diamper. Before the

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Synod, the Syrians, though nominally under Bishops sent from Babylon, were virtually independent and much of the internal administration of the diocese was left to the Cattanars and the Archdeacon. The Latin Bishop, on the other hand, in his zeal for the purity of law and practice actively interfered with the rights and privileges of the Cattanars and in the daily life and usages of the people. Another serious cause for discontent was the reduction of the See of Angamali to a Bishopric from Archdiocese and its subjection to Goa. Politically the Syrians had gained little or nothing by their allegiance to Goa. They just remained where they were. Calm deliberation now convinced them that Diamper was an All Fools' Day. Further Archdeacon George was far from broken; he had only bowed before the inevitable. With the departure of Menezies to Goa he again raised his head. He fomented trouble and courted the Rajah of Cochin for favours and help in his schemes against the Portuguese. The Rajah himself, like the Syrians, had by now recovered from the spell the magician from Goa had cast over him and he too realized that his interests lay not in a union of Syrian and Portuguese Christians but in a division of the two. The Syrians alone could be a serious threat to his position, and able Bishops had successfully challenged the authority of weak Rajahs; and he had always appreciated the political need for keeping the Syrians engaged in their religious quarrels. A combination of Syrians and Portuguese could be a standing danger to his position and he repented of the support he had lent to Menezies' scheme. Now that Menezies was gone and Roz did not command the prestige that Archbishop did, the Rajah of Cochin ignored him and actively sided with the Archdeacon. Roz, however, realized the importance of raising the See of Angamali to an Archdiocese. He also felt the need for transferring the See to Cranganoor. The Archdeacon and his party were particularly strong in Angamali and Roz felt he would be much more comfortable at Cranganoor, a port under Portuguese influence. At the request of Roz, the See of Angamali was raised to an Archdiocese and transferred to Cranganoor.

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This, far from solving his difficulties led to greater troubles for the poor Archbishop. Cranganoor was under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Cochin and he objected to the transfer of the see as an encroachment by Roz into his dominions. This led to a bitter controversy between Roz and the Bishop of Cochin which Goa found difficult to setde. In the meantime the trouble between the Jesuits and other orders was gaining momentum and with this added incentive for quarrel, Portuguese priests and their partisans often came to blows in the ports of Cochin and Cranganoor, to say nothing of farther south where a state of open war between the various orders existed. Roz was drawn into these disputes, and this left Archdeacon George plenty of time and opportunities to seize power and consolidate his position. He was no more the inexperienced young man who met Archbishop Menezies but an older and wiser man, a mature tactician and strategist. While Archbishop Roz was busy in his quarrels with his own nationals, Archdeacon George became the most powerful man in the Serra. The Cochin Rajah and the European enemies of Roz actively supported him, and his voice became powerful enough to be heard even in Rome. On the i6th February 1624, the much harassed first Latin Archbishop of the Syrians died at the age of 67. The following sad legend on the porch of Sts. Gervase and Protase apdy summarizes the latter part of the Archbishop's life: "On account of the continuous wars, he could stay neither in Angamalee nor in Cranganoor." Don Esteben de Britto who succeeded Roz was a man of peace. He was overwhelmed by the authority the old Archdeacon exercised over his diocese and was distracted by quarrels with the Dominicans. He followed the line of least resistance and when he found that Archdeacon George would give him no peace till he had received written confirmation of the powers he had seized, the obliging Archbishop signed a document of virtual abdication in his favour. The signing of the deed coming to the knowledge of the authorities in Cochin and Goa, they almost gasped. Britto himself felt that he had acted somewhat foolishly.

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Hence when in 1636 Count Linhares, the Viceroy of Goa, happened to visit Cochin, the matter was represented to him and the Count brought pressure on the Rajah of Cochin who asked the Archdeacon to surrender the document. George readily complied with His Highness' request and the Viceroy took away the precious document with him. Later, however, it was noticed that the document was still in the Archdeacon's possession, and the surrendered one was a copy with a forged signature. Till his death which occurred on the 25th July 1640 Archdeacon George was the virtual ruler of the Syrians under de Britto. The Syrians still revere him as one of their greatest countrymen who successfully fought the Portuguese domination and did much to retrieve the position lost to Menezies at Diamper. De Britto appointed Thomas de Campos, a nephew of George as his successor, and a year later Britto himself died. After this, the Portuguese influence generally and of the Jesuits in particular began to decline and the Syrian Church again worked for severance from Goa and applied to Babylon for a Bishop. A Patriarch by name Ahtallah now appeared in Mylapore at the shrine of St. Thomas and wrote to the Syrians that he would be shortly proceeding to take charge of the see left vacant by Mar Abraham. The news was received with the greatest rejoicing in Malabar and as he started from Mylapore in 1653 for Cochin by sea, large congregations from all over Malabar moved to Cochin to receive him. About 100,000 Syrians including some 40,000 armed men congregated in Cochin to receive the Patriarch. The Portuguese were thoroughly alarmed and the ship that carried the Patriarch cast anchor in stream and did not come anywhere near the harbour. The impatient Syrians demanded the immediate surrender of the Patriarch and the Portuguese replied by manning their guns into position on the walls of the fort. An appeal to the ruler of Cochin proved futile; he could do nothing against the Portuguese or the Syrians. In the resultant excitement, a wild rumour spread throughout the crowd that the venerable Patriarch was murdered and thrown overboard by the Portuguese. The furious Syrians wanted to storm the Portuguese fortress, but

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wiser counsels prevailed. Some of the responsible leaders managed to lead the mob away to Mattanchery, close by, without unnecessary bloodshed. At the church at Mattanchery the Syrians decided that no Syrian worth his name should owe allegiance to Goa and the Portuguese. Every one was asked to swear by the cross of the Mattanchery church, made famous by this day's events, that he would not accept the authority of Goa. To make the oath effective, it was necessary for every individual to touch the cross while swearing, and what with the eagerness of the crowd and the unmanageability of their number, this presented a difficult problem. But a happy idea struck an ingenious brain and long ropes were tied to the cross in all directions, and Syrians held to the ropes and swore to an undying hatred of the Portuguese and a determination to end once for all the authority of Goa. This event is known in Syrian Christian history as the Revolt of the Coonen (crooked) Cross. The difficulties of administration had now to be solved. The authority of the ruling Bishop was rejected but there was no Western Asian Bishop at hand to take charge. In this predicament twelve Cattanars representing the Apostles ordained a Bishop of their own, and the choice naturally fell on Archdeacon Thomas. He ruled the Syrians taking the tide of Mar Thoma I. From now on the Syrian Church enters its modern phase, and the further history of this interesting Church will be continued in a later Chapter.

CHAPTER VII CHRISTIANITY IN MOGUL INDIA THE Jesuits of the Counter Reformation had, in their ambitious plan, the conversion of the whole world, and those who worked in the Indian field did not confine their activities to the South. Their eagle eyes scanned the great subcontinent ruled by the Moguls and thought it a rich field promising excellent harvest, but did not know how and where to begin their mission. And then an opportunity presented itself, an invitation from the great Akbar himself to go to Agra and instruct him in the Christian religion. The Mogul dynasty was founded in India by Babur, of the house of Chengiz Khan and Timur, by his defeat of Ebrahim Lodi, the then king of Delhi, in the historic battle of Panipat in 1526. Babur and his son Humayun could not do much to consolidate their conquests as a good many turbulent chieftains and petty rulers had yet to be subdued. It was given to Humayun's son Akbar to consolidate his predecessors' conquests and establish the Mogul Empire on a firm basis. He ascended the throne in the year 1556 at the early age of thirteen. The Emperor, though young in years, was old in experience, and from the very start showed those qualities of leadership which has won for him universal esteem. The early Moguls, though nominally converted to Islam, had retained most of the religious traditions of the Mongols and were happily free from fanaticism. They accepted the superior culture of Arabia and Persia, no doubt, but had no great regard for the dogmas of Islam and kept an open mind in matters concerning the Great Unknown. And Akbar was gifted with a keen intellect and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. The vast majority of his subjects were Hindus and Akbar realized the need for conciliating them for the stability of his vast 105

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dominions. He entered into matrimonial relations with the Rajputs and employed several chieftains of this noble race in high places in the army and in civil administration. This benevolent attitude towards Hindus, very rare among Muslim monarchs of the Middle Ages, was not actuated by mere political considerations but also by Akbar's genuine love for their traditions and culture. He often imitated the Hindu way of dress and manners. By nature Akbar was an eclectic and a liberal, and inclined to the secular view of the state. It irked him to note that Muslim divines dictated to him state policies based on the Islamic law while most of his subjects were non-Muslims, and throughout his life he assumed an attitude of studied antagonism towards the doctors of Islam. The dogmas of Islam did not satisfy his spirit of enquiry into the mysterious. He was fearless in his search for truth, and invited learned men of all religious persuasions to his court and listened to regular philosophic discussions between rival parties. Brahmins, Jains, Zoroastrians and Muslims freely propounded their views, and as it happens in such arguments many prophets and holy men came in for a good deal of criticism. Akbar enjoyed these controversies and wished to have some learned Christian priests also among the disputants. Akbar, no doubt, had some knowledge of Christianity gained from the Armenians who were in his kingdom but he was attracted to the Jesuits by a report from Bengal that they had refused the benefits of religion to certain Portuguese who had deprived the Mogul Government of certain legitimate dues and persisted in keeping their illgotten gains. Such high sense of religious duty was rare at the time, and Akbar sent an invitation to one of the Jesuits, Father Julian Pereira, to visit him. Father Pereira arrived in Agra in 1578 and was immediately dragged into religious wranglings with the Muslims. But Pereira was more dogmatic than learned and proved no match for the chief Mullah of the court, nicknamed the Sultan of Mecca. So he requested Akbar to apply to the Jesuit College at Goa for some learned priests if he wished to have an intellectual exposition of Chris-

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tianity, Akbar was interested and he despatched an ambassador to Goa accompanied by an Armenian Christian named Dominic Pires with the following Farman: "Order of Jalal Ud Din the Great, King by God appointed. Fathers of the Order of St. Paul, know that I am most kindly disposed towards you, and I send Abdulla, my ambassador, and Dominic Pires to ask you in my name to send me two learned priests who should bring with them the chief books of the Law and the Gospel, for I wish to study and learn the Law and what is best and most perfect in it. The moment my ambassadors return, let them not hesitate to come with them and let them bring the books of the Law. Know also that as far as I can, I shall receive most kindly and honourably the priests who will come. Their arrival will give me the greatest pleasure, and when I shall know about the Law and its perfection what I wish to know, they will be at liberty to return as soon as they like, and I shall not let them go without loading them with honours and gifts. Therefore let them not have the slightest fear to come. I take them under my protection. Fare you well." Although the Jesuits were only too glad to get a footing in the capital of the Mogul Empire, the letter considerably intrigued both the civil and ecclesiastical authorities of Goa. The Portuguese had come to look upon all Muslims as their enemies, mainly because of their traditional hostility to the Arabs, and the sincerity of Akbar's motive was doubted. The real intention of the emperor was suspected to be far removed from thirst for Christian knowledge. One possible explanation that offered itself was that Akbar wished to get some European priests to his capital and detain them as hostages for the redress of some fancied grievance he might have had against the Portuguese; another that he had an exaggerated idea of the glamour of Portuguese women and wished to get Portuguese wives for his harem through the good offices of the Fathers. The Jesuits were, however, determined to avail themselves of the God-given opportunity, ahd accordingly the first 'Mogor Mission* was formed under Rudolf Aquaviva, an Italian Jesuit. Antony Monserrate, a Spaniard, and Francis Henri-

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quez, a Persian convert from Islam, together with the leader constituted the first Mogor Mission. They started from Goa on 17th November, 1579, accompanied by Akbar's emissaries, travelled by way of Surat, Mandu, Ujjain, Narwar, Gwalior, and after the usual delays incidental to travel at the time, reached Fatehpuri Sikri on 27th February 1580. The welcome the Fathers received in Akbar's court set at rest all their suspicions about the intentions of the Emperor. It became clear to them that Akbar was inspired solely by a desire to knojev more about Christianity from the Jesuits. Hopes ran high, and the Fathers, from the very kindly and almost fraternal treatment they received from the Emperor, imagined that his conversion would be the easiest thing in the world. It gave them no little satisfaction to imagine that while their compeers in the South struggled among the poor and the lowly, they were in a position to address themselves to the highest in the Indies and bring about the conversion of the Mogul Empire through the agency of the Emperor and his court. Familiarity with Akbar and his genius soon disillusioned the Fathers on this point. Akbar studiously cultivated the friendship of the Jesuits, and was always most kind and considerate to them, but days and months passed by in elaborate discussions and long sermons without anything of importance happening. The Emperor had learnt from the Fathers all that an enquirer could possibly learn, and still the eagerly awaited baptism did not take place. Slowly the depressing truth dawned upon the Fathers that the Emperor in inviting the Fathers had no intention other than providing greater variety to his religious discussions which he indulged in as a sort of intellectual diversion. So the Fathers continued to enjoy material favours without gaining substantially in spiritual matters. The Emperor gave them enough money and excellent houses to live in, and supplied them food from the royal table. He often visited them in their house, and walked hand in hand with the Fathers. He even sought their opinion on state affairs, and asked them to tell him openly and without demur if there were any lapses in his personal conduct

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or in his capacity as the head of the state. The Fathers took advantage of this and pointed out to him the undesirability of polygamy and his indifference to the message of Christ. He took their advice with becoming humility but did nothing to give the Fathers satisfaction on these points. In their religious disputes with the Mullahs, the Jesuits often attacked Islam and the Prophet with much vehemence. This brought them a good many enemies in the city. Akbar himself, though he professed general agreement with the Fathers in their opinion of Islam, pointed out to them the need for propounding truth in a more modest manner as there were turbulent elements in his kingdom whom he himself found difficult to keep under control. When the feelings between the Jesuits and the Mullahs assumed alarming proportions, Akbar suggested the fire ordeal*, which cooled the ardour of the disputants. As time passed on, the Jesuits began to lose all hope of converting the Emperor. They began to suspect that he was insincere in his praise of Christianity, and if anything, his idea was to found a religion of his own and emulate the Prophets. They wrote about him as follows: "The Emperor is not a Muhammadan, but is doubtful as to all forms of faith and hold firmly that there is no divinely accredited form of faith, because he finds in all something to offend his reason and intelligence; for he thinks that everything can be grasped by reason. Nevertheless he at times admits that no faith * The fire ordeal was the trump card of Akbar and his son Jehangir. Different versions of the ordeal were reported by travellers, though no one appears to have been subjected to it. According to one account, the Mullahs were to throw the Koran and the Jesuits the Bible into a fire pit, and the book that would not be consumed by fire was to be considered the true one. In another version, the disputants themselves were to jump into the fire pit with their respective scriptures, and the party that held die true book was expected to come out unhurt with the book. On good authority we know that the Jesuits refused to tempt the Lord in this manner, but stories were current in India at the time of Bernier's visit (in Aurangazeb's reign) that a Florentine Jesuit in Jehangir's time (probably Father Corsi) agreed to undergo the ordeal while the Mullahs refused, and the priest was, on that account, known as Atesh or Fire-eater.

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commends itself so much to him as that of the Gospel, and that when a man goes so far as to believe this to be the true faith and better than others, he is near to adopting it. At the Court some say that he is a heathen and adores the sun. Others that he is a Christian. Others that he intends to found a new sect. Among the people there are various opinions regarding the Emperor: some holding him to be a Christian, others a heathen, others a Muhammadan. The more intelligent, however, consider him to be neither Christian, nor heathen nor Muhammadan, and hold this to be the truth. Or they think him to be a Muhammadan who outwardly conforms to all religions in order to obtain popularity." The Fathers, any way, gave up all hopes of a speedy conversion of the Great Mogul, and the personnel of the first 'Mogor Mission' returned to Goa in 1583. A second Mission was despatched, again at Akbar's invitation sent through a Greek subdeacon named Leo Grimon who happened to be in Akbar's court at the time for what purpose it is not known. Leo gave the Jesuits at Goa a rosy picture of the Mogul court, of Akbar's pronounced antagonism to Islam and his eagerness for immediate conversion to Christianity. Hopes running very high, two fathers, Duarte Leitao and Christoval de Vega, with a lay brother Estevao Rebeiro started immediately from Goa. On the Mission reaching Lahore where Akbar was then residing they found that Grimon had misinformed them on the state of afiairs at the court. The Emperor received the missionaries with his usual kindness, but a powerful faction at the court was strongly opposed to Christianity and the Mission, thoroughly disillusioned, left Lahore in disgust soon after its arrival in this city. The failure of the second Mogor Mission was attributed to the impatience of its members, and every one including Akbar was greatly hurt by the precipitate departure of the mission, and a further attempt was considered desirable. Accordingly the third mission was formed under the able leadership of Father Jerome Xavier, a grand nephew of St. Francis Xavier, with Father Emmanuel Pinheiro and a lay brother Benedict de Goes as his

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assistants. This mission reached Lahore on the 5th May 1595, and did good work for years, the personnel having been replaced from time to time from Goa. Father Xavier and his assistants enjoyed royal patronage as in the case of the first mission, and on more than one occasion it was thought that Akbar would embrace Christianity. His antagonism to Islam became more marked as he grew older and he even prohibited the building of new mosques. The Jesuits were appointed tutors to Prince Salim. Permission and funds were given to them to build a church at Lahore, and both the Emperor and the Prince often visited the new church when the building was completed. Salim himself was very favourably disposed towards Christianity and gave the Fathers a large sum towards the cost of building the church. Prince Salim as he grew up began to develop rebellious tendencies and even instigated the murder of Akbar's favourite minister Abul Fazal. Later he went into open rebellion. The missionaries, however, managed to maintain good relations with the father and the son. In 1606 Akbar died. Though it is generally believed that he died a Muslim, stories are current which purport to say that he was baptized a Christian on his death-bed. Prince Salim who succeeded Akbar as Jehangir, continued his patronage of the Jesuits, but he was an erratic genius, a much lesser man than his able, astute, wise and energetic father. In his time Europeans of note other than the Portuguese penetrated into India and Jehangir himself was much amused to note that there was anything but unanimity among Christians themselves about Christianity. The Jesuits had now to contend with considerable opposition from the English. The first Englishman who courted Imperial favours against the Jesuits was Capt. William Hawkins. Reaching Surat in an English ship in 1608, he proceeded to Agra armed with a letter from James I, and reached this city in the month of April in 1609. He has recorded many complaints against the Jesuits. He went in fear of his life because of plots for his assassination, inspired he said by Jesuits; the poor man went

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so far as to marry an Armenian lady 'in order to avoid being poisoned1 by the Jesuits. He entered into religious controversies with the Jesuits and presented the Protestant version of Christianity to Jehangir. With all his efforts, however, the influence of the Jesuits prevailed, and giving up all hopes of winning over Jehangir to his side Hawkins left Mogul Ihdia in disgust. In 1612 an English squadron appeared in Indian waters, and defeating the Portuguese fleet that attacked it gave an inkling of coining events to Indians. English prestige rose high and when Paul Canning went to Agra as the envoy of King James he was well received by Jehangir. Canning too, like Hawkins, suffered much at the hands of the Jesuits and wrote bitter things about them. Jehangir had a child's curiosity in European music and pictures, and at times the foreigners went to ridiculous extremes to please His Majesty in these matters in order to win his favour. Canning, for instance, had one of his followers, who was a cornet player, perform before Jehangir, and the Emperor was delighted by the performance; upon this, the Jesuits asked Canning to instruct his cornet player to teach two of their men how to play on the instrument, and added that this was an Imperial Farman. Canning point-blank refused. The Jesuits then produced a Neapolitan juggler much to the amusement of Jehangir. With the arrival of the famous embassy under Sir Thomas Roe in 1615, the quarrels between the Jesuits and the English took a more decorous form. On the whole, the Jesuits were better favoured than the British, and Father Corsi had the ear of the Emperor. Jehangir, in his ostentatious regard for the Jesuits and their religion went, on one occasion, so far as to order two of his nephews to embrace Christianity. The baptism of the princes gave rise to wild hopes and even Hawkins who was at the time at the court took part in the celebrations. The news was received in Spain with great rejoicings and king Phillip III sent a personal letter to Jehangir congratulating him and adopting the royal neophytes as his godchildren. Soon after, however, there was a rupture between the

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Portuguese and Jehangir and the latter promptly ordered his nephews back to Islam. Jehangir moved freely with Christians of all denominations and was once even heard to swear by the face of his father that he would embrace Christianity. This swearing took place, it appears, after an over-indulgence in wine. Manucci shrewdly observes that the Emperor's preference for the company of Christians was inspired not by a love for Christianity but by a love of pork and wine. This was probably true, but Islam had its compensations too. For once he asked the Jesuits rather bluntly what he would do with his numerous wives if he turned Christian. Jehangir's attitude towards religion was typical of the hedonist who because of his responsible position could not afford to deny God. He took from all religions what was convenient for him. A favourite story inspired by Jehangir's love of the miraculous was the Legend of the Sagacious Ape. A juggler from Bengal, so goes the story, brought a monkey to Jehangir's court claiming that the animal had insight into religious truths. Jehangir had the names of twelve prophets written, each on an identical looking piece of paper, and after careful shuffling, the pieces were offered to the monkey and the animal is said to have taken out the paper on which Jesus' name was written. Jehangir, suspecting that the owner of the monkey who knew Persian had made some secret sign to the animal, wrote the names in the official code but the result was again the same. A courtier gave a more rigorous test; he secretly removed the piece of paper on which Jesus' name was written and offered the remaining eleven pieces to the monkey; the sagacious ape carefully examined all the pieces but could not find the name of Jesus on any of them; it worked itself into a fury, tore all the eleven pieces, attacked the courtier and wrenched from his hand the precious document and kissed it devoutly. The truth of the story was vouchsafed by reliable eye witnesses and Sir Thomas Roe and his chaplain Terry attributed it to "one of the many tricks of the Jesuits". The Jesuits themselves disclaimed all hand in the affair, but the story got wide publicity

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in the Roman Catholic world and even poems were composed in Spain in honour of the Sagacious Ape. Except for a brief period of two years (1613-1615) when Jehangir was much annoyed by the activities of some Portuguese who, in their quarrel with the English, happened to capture a vessel in which the Queen Mother had some interest, the Jesuits enjoyed continued patronage in the Mogul Court. Towards his old age, Jehangir's leaning towards Christianity became definitely marked, and stories got currency in India that he had privately embraced Christianity but could not confess it publicly because of his fear of the Mogul aristocracy. In his old age Jehangir, however, became politically unimportant, the Empress Nurjehan having taken over control of the state for all practical purposes. Nurjehan was not particularly fond of Christians. On 28th October 1627 Jehangir died and with him the hopes of the Jesuits of converting the Mogul Emperors to Christianity. Akbar and Jehangir inspired rich Christian legends but poor congregations. The Jesuits were solely occupied with attempts to convert the Emperors and paid little attention to the conversion of the people. Shah Jehan who succeeded Jehangir, though not a bigot, was a staunch believer in the greatness and glory of Islam and he was, more than any one else, responsible for putting forth Islam in all its splendour in India. The Taj Mahal, the Juma Musjid at Delhi and several other noble edifices and some great works of art like the Peacock Throne were inspired by and constructed under his supervision. He was indifferent to Christians but just tolerated the Jesuits as the pastors of the little community of Europeans and other Christians at Agra and elsewhere, ^hat is known as the Hugli incident made him, for some time at least, a deadly enemy of Christians, and for a brief period he actively persecuted them. This incident and its repercussions deserve some detailed notice. There was, at the time, a considerable number of Portuguese in Chittagong and the Arakkan Coast, mostly renegades whose main occupation was piracy. They actively supported the king of

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Arrakkan in his depredatory incursions into Mogul territory and were a constant source of trouble to the low lying coastal districts of Bengal. To make matters worse, a Portuguese adventurer named Tavares founded the port of Hugli, towards the close of the i6th century, and this caused a large influx of Portuguese and Eurasian population into the Port. Hugli was independent both of the Mogul Governor of Dacca and the Portuguese Viceroy of Goa and the city was a law unto itself. By their mastery of the sea nearby, the Hugli Portuguese managed to divert all the trade of Bengal from the Mogul port of Satgaon to Hugli and this city soon rose to eminence as one of the richest ports on the bay of Bengal. The citizens of Hugli were not particularly noted for the correctness of their lives. The main wealth of the city was from a flourishing slave trade maintained by kidnapping Mogul subjects from the coastal regions of Bengal. It was the boast of the Hugli Portuguese that they made more Christians in a year—by forcible conversions, of course—than all the missionaries in the East in ten. The seriousness of their activities was brought home to Agra when two beautiful slave girls belonging to Empress Mumtaz were kidnapped by them. Shah Jehan himself had an old axe to grind. In his abortive insurrection against his father, Shah Jehan had applied to Hugh for help which the city refused. Nor did she care to send an embassy to congratulate Shah Jehan on his accession to the throne. Shah Jehan now issued peremptory orders to the Governor of Dacca to exterminate Hugli. The Governor was only waiting for the order. He made secret but extensive preparations for the assault. The Portuguese were informed of the move by their agents and the missionaries at Agra, but the rulers of Hugh had an exaggerated idea of their own strength and belittled the mighty power of the Mogul. On 26th June 1632, an army of 70,000 men and a fleet of 500 vessels attacked the city from land and sea. The little band of 300 Portuguese soldiers and a hastily recruited army of civilians and slaves put up a stiff resistance but they were hopelessly outnumbered and the city fell to the Moguls.

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The carnage was terrible. A few of the inhabitants escaped to the jungles of Saugar island and the rest were either put to the sword or captured and sent to Agra. About 4,000 male and female captives, all Christians, reached Agra alive, and the treatment meted out to them was anything but in keeping with the liberal traditions of the earlier Moguls. Able bodied men and desirable women were sold as slaves. A few escaped death by accepting Islam. Some were forcibly converted and a good number were thrown to elephants to be trampled upon for the diversion of the Emperor and his ladies. A general outburst of violence against Christians marked the arrival of the captives at Agra. The church was plundered, the bells were removed, and the doors walled up. The Jesuits fell into disgrace and dared not move out of doors for fear of the mob. Even the Armenian nobleman Mirza Zulqarnain, who had held a high post in the Mogul administrative service, was imprisoned and had to buy his liberty on payment of a huge sum. The missionaries were forbidden to convert any one, and all public worship by Christians was stopped by Imperial orders. Some free Christians were even forcibly converted on some pretext or other. Fortunately, however, this outburst of violence did not last long. Shah Jehan, his prestige restored and thirst for revenge satisfied, relaxed the rigour of his orders against Christians due mainly to persuasion by some of the nobles of the older school. But all royal patronage of the Jesuits was withdrawn for good, and the court and people alike began to look upon Christians as undesirable aliens, and missionary activities as objectionable. Thus fallen into evil days, the mission just lingered on in Agra without being able to make any headway. The hostility of the Muslims was bad enough for the Jesuits, but they had some trouble with their co-religionists too. A few Franciscans had appeared in 'Mogor' from somewhere, and the Jesuits thought their work as an encroachment upon their rights. There was some tussle between the two orders, but the meek Franciscans gave up the fight and withdrew. But the Jesuits

4. Akbar Meeting the First Jesuit Mission (Courtesy : Historical Research Institute, St. Xavier's College, Bombay)

5. De Nobili and a Disciple (Courtesy : Historical Research Institute, St. Xavier's College, Bombay)

6. A Mogul Painting of the Assault on Hugli (Shah-Jehan-Nama)

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had more serious trouble from one Dom Matheus de Castro Melo, a colourful personality, who deserves some detailed notice. Dom Matheus was the son of a Goan Brahmin couple who had embraced Christianity. Matheus was a brilliant young man and received education under the Franciscans in Goa. A Portuguese nobleman interested himself in Matheus and on his recommendation the young man was sent to Portugal for higher studies and thence to Rome. Here he was ordained a priest and later, in 1637, appointed Bishop of Chrysopolis. The Indian Bishop proved more of a nationalist than an ecclesiastic and his career was marked by hostility towards Europeans in general and the Jesuits in particular. He had probably suffered much at the hands of colour prejudiced priests and laymen. It irked him to note that the Jesuits excluded all Indians from their order and he put it down to their jealousy of Indians. It was the considered opinion of His Lordship that Indian converts, especially Brahmins, were any day more intelligent than the generality of the Jesuits. Dom Matheus came to India in 1639 for what precise purpose it is not known, but soon after his arrival he quarrelled with the Archbishop and Viceroy of Goa. He left Goa in disgust, went to Arabia, managed to visit the tomb of Muhammad, and then proceeded to Rome. Here in 1645, he was appointed Vicar Apostolic of Ethiopia, but in 1648 he was in Arabia again where he quarrelled with the Jesuits and excommunicated one of them. In 1650 he was, however, in India as the Vicar Apostolic of 'the kingdom of the Great Mogul, Adelkhan (Bijapur) and Golconda'. After making a futile attempt to drive away the Portuguese from Goa, he proceeded northwards and reached Agra on the ist February 1651. Here Father Botelho, who was then in charge of the Mogor Mission, received him with due respect but the Vicar Apostolic was not satisfied with the affairs of the Mogor Mission. Admonition proving of no avail, Dom Matheus openly sided with the enemies of the Jesuits whether English, Dutch or Indian and went about telling every one that the Jesuits were Portuguese

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spies. His propaganda proved quite successful and Shah Jehan ordered the arrest of Father Busi of the Mogor Mission and the poor priest was released only through the intervention of Mirza Zulqarnain. The Jesuits, however, did not keep quiet. They accused the Bishop, as usual, of sedition and heresy and he had to leave India for Rome to answer these charges. In the year 1679 he died at the mature age of 72. It is unfortunate that the little we know of this remarkable Indian Bishop is from the picture painted by his enemies. He was not, in all probability, as black as he was painted. All the Jesuits at the time were not saints and the universal hostility their activities inspired must have given the independent Bishop much cause for complaint. One of the accusations against the Bishop was that he used to remark that though he had travelled all over Europe he had not come across one edifice which could approach in beauty and chasteness of design the then newly built Taj Mahal. Anyway, when the Bishop left India the Jesuits "rendered thanks to God and quoted the verse: 'imperavit ventis et facta est tranquillitas magna'—'He rebuked the winds and there was a great calm'."* Though Shah Jehan was unfavourable to Christians, the Jesuits began to expect great things of Prince Dara, his eldest son. Dara was a charming person with a taste for literature and art, and held liberal views on religion. He was particularly fond of Hindus and Christians and moved freely with die Jesuits. He had inherited the genial temperament and diversity of interests of his great grandfather Akbar, but little of his political genius. In the war of succession that rocked the Empire during Shah Jehan's old age, Dara was ignominously defeated by the cunning Aurangazeb. Aurangazeb seized the throne, imprisoned Shah Jehan and disposed of his brothers one by one. Aurangazeb ascended the throne in 1658 and reigned at Delhi while Shah Jehan lived in captivity at Agra. Aurangazeb is well known for his bigotry which led to the ruin of the Mogul Empire. * The Jesuits and the Great Mogult Edward Maclagan.

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Though he did not indulge in active persecution of non-Muslims, throughout his long reign he adopted a steady pro-Muslim policy which was humiliating to his non-Muslim subjects. The Jeziah was imposed for the first time in Mogul India. The missionaries were exempted from the tax as Christian Faquirs possessing no property, and that too by the intervention of the Portuguese lady Dona Juliana who wielded considerable influence in the court as the keeper of the seraglio. No conversion from Islam was permitted but Hindus and Christians were lured to Islam by economic help and other incentives. Nor were forcible conversions rare. The accidental repeating of the Kalma was seized as a valid excuse for forcible conversion and even where there was no actual repeating of the Kalma it was enough if some fanatic swore that he heard it repeated. Under these conditions the missionaries found it practically impossible to convert any one to Christianity, and the small Christian communities attached to the mission suffered want and privation. They gave up all hope of any large scale conversions where the Imperial influence prevailed, and diverted their attention to other fields. There were some missionary activities at Kaffiristan, Nepal, Nagpur, etc. during this period but none proved successful. The mission to Kaffiristan was sent on the report of some Armenians who had heard rumours of a mysterious Christian community existing in the mountain fastness of the Hindu Kush, but the missionaries failed to locate the community. In Bengal, however, there appeared some promise of success as the Augustinians had already made some headway in certain places in this province. Their work was considerably accelerated by the zeal of a Don Antonio de Rozario, a young zealot from a Zamindar family of Bengal. Rozario was an inspired man. He was a "small, dark, wizened figure with slender means and little education, but full of the most remarkable zeal for the propagation of his faith, and endowed with an extraordinary persuasiveness of discourse. On hearing him, it was said, one had either to become a Christian or drown himself." By his own efforts he converted about 20,000 Hindus to Christianity, mainly low class

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men living near his patrimony west of Dacca. He wanted priests to minister to the needs of the new community and the Jesuits jumped at the idea. But when they started work among the neophytes they met with considerable opposition from the Augustinians who thought the field was theirs and the Jesuit activity was an encroachment. Goa settled the dispute in favour of the Jesuits but these now experienced considerable opposition from the Muslim authorities, and Rozario himself came into trouble. The Missionaries also found the climate unbearable. Nor did the Augustinians keep quiet. Goa was far off and Rome still farther, and they actively interfered; and between the Augustinians and the Jesuits, the 2O,ooo~Christians of Rozario relapsed into Hinduism. The Jesuits had some standing at Jaipur at this time mainly because Jaisingh Sawai, the celebrated astronomer Rajah, wished to have learned European astronomers in Jaipur. Jai Singh ruled from 1699 till 1743, and the famous observatories at Jaipur, Delhi, Muttra, Ujjain and Benares were constructed by him. He came to know that some of thejesuits were proficient in astronomy and applied to Father Emmanuel de Figueredo, the Superior of the Mogor Mission at the time, for men learned in the science. Figueredo replied that he should apply to Portugal itself for really learned men and the zealous Rajah sent the Father himself as the head of a mission to Portugal for astronomers. In 1729 Father Figueredo returned with de Silva, a well-known astronomer and he settled down in Japiur. De Silva's descendants are still found in the state. Jai Singh's thirst for astronomical knowledge was insatiable and he wrote to all the Jesuit centres in India and to Rome for European astronomers. Quite a number of Jesuits proficient in the science collected at Jaipur and they were given every facility for doing missionary work in the state. In spite of this encouragement, congregations were few probably because the learned fathers were better astronomers than missionaries. Jai Singh died in 1743. Under his descendants both astronomy and the Jesuits suffered neglect, and the Mission had to close down.

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Aurangazeb died in the year 1707 and with his death began the decline of the Mogul Empire. The fanatical policy he followed bore fruit, and a vigorous Hindu revival under the leadership of the Maharathas shook the foundations of the Empire. The Empire had already been drained of its resources by Aurangazeb's constant wars with Shivaji and his successors and with the death of the old tyrant rebellion started everywhere, and chief after chief, viceroy after viceroy declared independence. The successors of Aurangazeb were weak men who could not stem this surging tide of rebellion. They did, however, keep up a shadow of the old glory till 1739 when the Persian invader Nadir Shah swept over India like a cyclone, sacked Delhi and carried away the accumulated treasures of the Empire to Persia. India was now left without a master and rival groups warred on one another for supremacy till all were swept aside by the forceful impact of British colonial expansion. The Mogor Mission had nothing spectacular to show compared to the work of the Franciscans and Jesuits in the South. For one thing, Portuguese influence was not felt in Mogul India; for another, Muslims were hard to convert. The main obstacles to the conversion of the Muslims were monogamy, and the dogmas of Trinity and Incarnation. Under Akbar and Jehangir, as we have seen, the missionaries had full freedom to preach and convert. The methods adopted by the Jesuits in reaching the people was not street preaching; they usually attracted Hindus and Muslims to their church by the display of religious pictures, and by showy ceremonials. On these occasions, the missionaries went among the crowd explaining to men and women the meaning of the pictures and ceremonials and pointing out the superiority of Christianity to Hinduism and Islam. The crowd listened with interest but conversions were few. In fact conversion by the missionaries was mainly confined to the servants of Europeans and Armenians, and even in these cases complaints often reached the Emperor that the missionaries had bribed the convert. Though they were hard to convert, Indian Muslims, compared

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to their brethren farther West, were generally tolerant towards religious innovators of all kinds. Except for brief periods of outbursts mainly inspired by political motives, persecutions were extremely rare in the Mogul Empire and Muslims, probably because of their association with the Hindus, took religious discussions in good spirit. The eccentric English wanderer Coryate wrote that he vehemently disputed religion with a Muslim in Multan and would have been 'roasted on a spitt' in Persia or Turkey for what he said against the Prophet. On another occasion the same zealot acted as Muezzin in a mosque, and ascending the minaret called the Faithful to prayer by the astounding Azan, "There is no God but God, and Hazrat Isa (Prophet Jesus) is the Son of God." Though there were no Christian congregations of importance in Mogul India, there were quite a number of individuals who wielded considerable influence in the court and elsewhere. The Mogul army had a sprinkling of Europeans, especially in the artillery section, but none of them rose to any eminence. The Armenians were, however, different. There were, in all important Mogul cities, quite a large number of them engaged in trade; a greater number found employment in the Imperial and Provincial services. Persian was the official language of the Moguls who looked to Persia as the centre of Asian cvdture. Armenians who were proficient in Persian and familiar with the culture of Persia easily found employment under the Moguls. They lived on excellent terms with Europeans, and the Jesuits derived considerable help from them. Of all the Armenians in Mogul India, the greatest was Mirza Zulqarnain. He was not, strictly speaking, an Armenian but the son of Mirza Sikander a merchant from Aleppo who took service under Akbar. Sikander was an able official and was well thought of by Akbar and Jehangir. He was a generous patron of the Jesuits; in his will he set apart "Rs.2,ooo for the Church and Christians of Lahore, Rs.4,ooo to the Church and Christians of Agra and Rs.3,ooo for a grave for himself with a chapel."

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Sikander's son Zulqarnain was adopted in boyhood by Akbar himself, and when he came of age was appointed Governor of Sambhar. He held this post under Jehangir too, but when prince Khurram (Shah Jehan) rebelled against his father, Zulqarnain remained loyal to Jehangir and this brought him greater honour and rank. On Shah Jehan's accession to the throne, the Christian nobleman fell out of favour. He was demoted and transferred to Gorakhpur but was recalled in the persecution of 1633 and imprisoned. With some difficulty, he bought his freedom on payment of a large sum. Gradually, however, Shah Jehan's hostility wore down and in 1649 Zulqarnain was restored to his old province of Sambhar as its Governor. Two years later he resigned, and spent his days in retirement. Zulqarnain was a staunch Christian and a constant ally of the Jesuits. From time to time, especially under Shah Jehan, pressure was brought upon him to embrace Islam, but the Mirza stoutly refused to be bullied or cajoled. He, like his father, was a generous patron of all Christians and gave unstintingly to relieve want and destitution. He was known among Europeans as the 'Father of the Christians of Mogor'. The Jesuit mission received from him more than Rs. 40,000 for various charities. The wanderer Coryate received Rs.20 from this 'noble and generous Christian of the Armenian race'. Dom Matheus, the Bishop of Chrysopolis, received Rs. 100. Zulqarnain was a versatile genius, and was an excellent poet and musician. His knowledge of Hindustani was profound. He died in or about the year 1656. None of his descendants rose to the eminence of Zulqarnain, and nothing is known at present of this noble Mogul family. Another Armenian celebrity of the time was Kwaja Martinus. He was not an official but a prosperous businessman. He is said to have visited Rome in pilgrimage. He had given the Jesuits Rs. 10,000 towards the cost of building the church at Agra. We know little about his private life, but his remains rest in the Santos Chapel at Agra.

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Then there is the legend of Akbar's Christian wife. Akbar is said to have had a Christian wife named Miriam but there is no historical background to the story. One version of the legend is that she was Portuguese, another that she was Armenian. Closely connected with the legend of Akbar's Christian wife is the story of the Indian Bourbons. A member of this noted family is believed to have migrated to India and settled down in this country marrying a sister of Akbar's Christian wife. Many families in Agra, Narwar, Gwalior and Bhopal during the rule of the East India Company used to trace their descent from the Bourbons, and travellers' tales are plentiful which attribute the origin of these families to this or that Bourbon. The modern Indian Bourbons have little to boast of except a glorious ancestry of doubtful origin. An interesting personage who wielded considerable influence in Delhi towards the decline of the Mogul Empire was the lady Dona Juliana Diaz de Costa. Her father was a Portuguese captive from Hugli who bought his freedom by payment of a ransom. Juliana was born in Agra probably in the year 1657, though accounts are not wanting which suggest her nativity in Cochin or Bengal. She married while young and had children, but little is known about her husband. She joined the service of Aurangazeb's wife, and was entrusted with the education of the young princes. By her intelligence and ability she won the regard of the queen and wielded considerable influence in Aurangazeb's seraglio. On this Emperor's death in 1707, his successor Bahadur Shah who had been under her tutelage showered honours upon her. She was given an allowance of Rs.iooo per month and was allotted the palace of Dara Shukoh for her residence. In addition, four villages near Okla were endowed on her, and the revenue from these was quite considerable. Juliana was an ardent supporter of all Christians without distinction of nationality or denomination, and the English and the Dutch shared her munificence with the Jesuits. She endowed the Jesuit mission at Delhi with one lakh of rupees, and gave financial aid for the despatch of a mission to Tibet. Though wealthy,

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Juliana lived a simple, frugal life. She died in July or August 1734 at a mature age, and her body was brought from Delhi and buried in the church at Agra. The great Christian figures of Mogul India left no descendants of consequence. Their progeny perished with those of their masters.

CHAPTER VIII BEGUM ZEBUNISSA JOANNA SAMRU—THE CHRISTIAN PRINCESS OF SARDHANA DURING the troublous days that followed the disruption of the Mogul Empire, security of person and property was practically unknown in India. The power of warring chieftains was short lived, and their span of life shorter still. The country was in a constant state of war, and many an astute statesman and powerful ruler met with an untimely death. Hence the romantic story of the life of Begum Samru, a girl left destitute at a very young age, who carved out a kingdom for herself and ruled it as independently as circumstances would permit at the time and died fuU of years and honour is itself of interest; but the fact that she was a Christian and a staunch supporter of all Christian activities and ended her days leading a saintly life makes her story doubly interesting. The eighteenth century was essentially the age of European adventurers in India. With the 4eath of Aurangazeb the Mogul power declined rapidly and the momentous struggle for the crown of India started between the Maharathas, the Sikhs and the British. Every chieftain or adventurer who owed allegiance to the Mogul became virtually independent and sold his services to the highest bidder when he himself was not in a position to expand his power independently. European adventurers who, by the very nature of their nationality and interests, had no loyalty to any of the rising Indian powers took full advantage of the situation, and those who were energetic and unscrupulous enough managed to carve out semi-independent kingdoms for themselves. During this century European leadership was considered superior to Indian, and all Indian rulers wished to have European Generals in their army. The Sikhs, the Maharathas and the Sultans of Mysore had large numbers of Europeans in their army. They, however, entertained few Englishmen in their service because of 126

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their jealousy of the rising power of the British and the suspicion of loyalty of British officers. The rapidly rising power of the British was probably responsible for the Indian prediction for European Army Officers. During the reign of Shah Jehan arid Aurangazeb, the Mogul Army had quite a good number of Europeans in it but they were not generally considered superior to Indians, though in the artillery section Europeans were specially proficient. But in the eighteenth century Europeans came to be looked upon as definitely superior to Indians, and a good many Europeans came to India as soldiers of fortune attracted by the excellent opportunities the country afforded for really enterprising men. Of these adventurers, Walter Reinhardt proved a remarkable man. He was of German extraction, came to India at a young age and served under the French. When the British took Chandernagore in 1757, Reinhardt became a refugee but he soon obtained a position under Gurgin Khan, the Armenian General of Mir Kassim. It was while serving under Mir Kassim that Reinhardt was discredited with the cold-blooded shooting of fifty-one Englishmen. The British factor at Patna, Mr. Ellis, for some fancied grievance he had against the Nawab, attacked the city without warning or provocation but was defeated and captured with his men. Mir Kassim who had suffered many things of many Englishmen, in a fit of temper, ordered the English captives to be shot and the work was entrusted to Reinhardt who executed it promptly and efficiently. It is related by the British that no Indian officer would undertake this work and Reinhardt volunteered. The English was naturally horrified at his cold-blooded action and they have left us accounts of Reinhardt which depict him as a detestable blackguard, blacker than Lucifer. They tried their utmost to capture the villain, but Reinhardt who knew the British well, managed to keep himself sufficiently far from their spreading influence to die a natural death as the ruler of a principality he founded in Hindustan. The accounts of his enemies show Reinhardt as a morose, cruel, unscrupulous devil, and the name Samru by which he was known

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in India is believed to be a corruption of 'sombre* the nickname the British gave him. Another explanation of the name 'Samru* is that once he enlisted in the British army under the name of Summers which was corrupted into Samru. Whatever the origin of his name, Samru thoroughly hated the British. He might have shared this sentiment with the French when he was in their service, or he had probably suffered some personal humiliation at their hands. Moreover the eighteenth century British in India were not a very lovable community, and Samru had probably thought that India was not likely to miss very badly the fifty-one Englishmen shot by his orders. In the battle of Buxar (1764) Mir Kassim and the Nawab of Oudh were defeated by the British and Samru fled westward. He was a fine soldier and leader of men, and managed to build up a respectable regiment of mercenaries officered by European adventurers like himself, and roamed about Hindustan in search of a patron. His fame as an able general and stern disciplinarian had by now spread throughout India, and Jawahar Singh, the Jat Chief of Bharatpur engaged him in 1765. In the same year the Jat Chief made an unsuccessful attempt to capture Delhi, and during the seige, Reinhardt came across the girl who was to play an important part in his life and in contemporary history. The girl's Muslim name was Farzana, but her origin is obscure. She is mentioned as a Kashmiri in some accounts, but her father Lutaf AH Khan, was of noble birth. His son by another wife ill treated Farzana and her mother, and the two were driven out of the house, and left to eke out a living as best as they could in those troublous times. One account shows that the two were in a dancing troupe when Reinhardt met them. Farzana was then in her teens, and her beauty and intelligence at once attracted the rough German, a connoisseur of women, who had a well stocked harem in proper Muslim style. He granted her the status of wife and she came to be known as Begum Samru. The Begum was as astute and clever as she was beautiful. The misfortunes of her childhood had made Farzana precociously self reliant and responsible. She took an active interest in the afiaks

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of her husband and made herself familiar with the management of his army and his estates, and cultivated good relations with the officers most of whom were Europeans. Jawahir Singh of Bharatpur, Samru's patron, died in 1772, and his successor did not possess the grit required to hold the turbulent Jats together. The Mogul Nobles of Delhi took advantage of his weakness and the prevailing dissentions, attacked him and inflicted a severe defeat on the Jats in the battle of Barsana. The Moguls were, however, so impressed by the section of the Jat Army commanded by Samru that Najaf Khan, the Premier Noble, on behalf of the Emperor offered his patronage to Samru. Samru realized that the Jat cause was as good as lost, and after protracted negotiations finally accepted the Mogul offer. Reinhardt was presented to Shah Alam on 2ist May 1774 and received the jaghire of Sardhana from the Emperor. The revenue from this principality was to defray the expenses connected with the maintenance of a standing army which was to be at the disposal of the Emperor at the time of need. The jaghire of Sardhana was situated in the fertile Doab between AHgarh and Muzzaflarnagar and yielded a revenue of six lakhs of rupees. Samru himself was getting tired of his roving life, and after his marriage with Farzana seriously thought of settling down as a chieftain with a kingdom of his own. He made the town of Sardhana the headquarters of his jaghire, and started exploring the possibilities of developing the area. But Reinhardt did not live long to enjoy his newly acquired possession. Four years after receiving the jaghire from the Emperor he died on 6th May 1778, of a neglected cold. On Reinhardt's death trouble about succession arose. Farzana had no children, but Reinhardt had a son by another wife; this young man was, however, a fool utterly incompetent to take charge of Samru's army and his jaghire. Hence both the European and Indian officers of the army requested the Begum to take charge of her late husband's possessions and his army, and the Emperor gave his formal sanction. Thus Farzana became the Princess of Sardhana, with an army of her own and a fairly big

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sized principality as her kingdom. Samru's disciplined and well trained corps was 4,000 strong with 82 European officers, 200 horse and a good train of artillery; not a very big army, quite true, but quite a respectable one compared to the indisciplined, loosely held Indian armies of the time. On Reinhardt's death, the command of the Begum's army was held by a German named Pauli. He was implicated in an intrigue, the exact nature of which is not known, and was decapitated. A M. Marchand had entertained some hopes of marrying the Begum, but Pauli's fate cooled his ardour and he gave up the idea. Under the influence of Reinhardt and her European officers, the outlook of the Begum had by now become definitely Christian and her stepson Zafar Yab and herself were baptized at Agra on yth May 1781 by Fr. Gregorio. The Begum was given the Christian name Joanna and her stepson Louis Balthazaar Reinhardt. From now on, till her death she remained a staunch Christian and a benevolent patron of all Christians irrespective of nationality and denomination. After the death of Pauli the Begum began to search for an able European officer to command her army and soon she found the proper man. He was George Thomas, the celebrated Irish adventurer. Thomas, after serving in South India under various flags, took the road to Delhi and hearing of the Christian princess of Sardhana went to her and offered his services. The princess was an excellent judge of men and the daring Irishman immediately received a commission. His ability and qualities of leadership won for him special favours and he received rapid promotions and became the commander of the Begum's forces. He reorganized and disciplined the army and the Princess of Sardhana became a power to be counted with in Delhi and the surrounding areas. The affairs in Delhi at the time were in a peculiar state. The Mogul power counted for little or nothing, but the prestige of the Emperor was as high as ever. Such was the grip the Mogul name had obtained on India under Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jehan and

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Aurangazeb that a superstitious awe still clung to the word Mogul, and no one dared to gaze on the dead empire without permission. The warring chiefs of the time were always anxious to arm themselves with an Imperial Farman for the enjoyment of rights they had usurped. Even the Rohila ruffians who wished to murder the Emperor thought it desirable to have a formal death warrant signed by the Emperor for his own execution before they could kill him. And with the hour came the man. Shah Alam II, the then heir to the Mogul title, was essentially a man of peace. He signed Farmans with supreme impartiality. When the power of Mahdaji Scindia was in the ascendant, he appointed him Amir-ulUmra or Premier Noble and as such the virtual ruler of Delhi. When Scindia was defeated by the Rajputs and the Rohila Chieftain Ghulam Qadir threatened Delhi, die Emperor promptly deposed Scindia and elevated Ghulam Qadir to the position of Amir-ul-Umra. Scindia retrieved his fortune and drove, Ghulam Qadir out of Delhi when the Emperor reinstated Scindia in his old office. So much for the power and prestige of the Mogul Emperor. We may, however, give here an account of the part Begum Samru played in driving out Ghulam Qadir from Delhi as it shows at once the spirit of the lady and her loyalty to the Mogul cause though bestowed upon an imbecile. Ghulam Qadir was the Rohila Chieftain of Saharanpur, notorious for his treachery and cruelty. On hearing of the defeat of Scindia at the hands of the Rajputs, and his retreat to Gwalior, Ghulam Qadir with the avowed intention of plundering Delhi appeared on the bank of the Jumna opposite Delhi Fort with a strong force. He managed to win over Manzur AH, the influential Nazir of the Emperor, and with his help crossed over to the citadel. Shah Nizamuddin, the deputy of Scindia, finding the situation hopeless fled the city, and Ghulam Qadir together with his accomplice started exploring the palace for treasures. Now a most unexpected thing happened. Begum Samru, hearing of the unenviable predicament of

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the Emperor acted with surprising promptness and speed. She proceeded to Delhi by forced marches and encamped on the bank of the Jumna. This unexpected move of the Begum considerably disconcerted Ghulam Qadir. Her army had the reputation of being the very best in and near about Delhi, and the Rohila Chieftain knew that he had to conciliate her. He sent word to the Begum to name her terms. The Begum agreed to withdraw but wished to discuss the terms personally and hence requested Ghulam Qadir to come over to her camp secretly. As treacherous people are slow to suspect the intentions of others, Ghulam Qadir in post haste crossed the Jumna to the Begum's camp with no more men about him than two of his trusted associates. The terms were discussed with ostentatious cordiality and the Begum agreed to join his forces as soon as he crossed the Jumna back to Delhi. This promise the Begum, however, had not the necessity to keep; for when Ghulam Qadir rose to depart from the Begum's camp, he found the ferry blocked by her redoubtable soldiers, and had to flee to his own camp stationed on the other bank of the Jumna. The Begum now crossed over to Delhi and was received by the Emperor with all the joy appropriate to the occasion. Ghulam Qadir and Manzur Ali were pardoned at the request of the Begum, and she herself was granted the tide of Zebunissa (ornament of her sex) and given a robe of honour. The extent of her principality was also enhanced by the addition of several Parganas, Ghulam Qadir did not, however, keep quiet. With the departure of the Begum to Sardhana, he again appeared in Delhi, looted the palace, violated the Zenana, and blinded the Emperor. Scindia was now roused to activity; he attacked and defeated Ghulam Qadir, who took to flight; the miscreant was chased and captured and put to an ignominious death. During those days when treachery was the commonest thing among rulers, the Begum constantly supported the cause of the weakling Emperor and his partisan Scindia and had fought several actions against the Sikhs, the Rohilas and the Jats. Situated

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as her territory was in close proximity to the expanding Sikh power, it was the Begum's special care to guard her own kingdom and that of the Scindia, then representing the Emperor, against the incursions of the Sikhs. The Begum often commanded her troops in person; the battlefield had no terrors for this eighteenthcentury Semiramis. "Col. Skinner had often, during his service with the Maharathas, seen her, then a beautiful young woman, leading on her troops to the attack in person, and displaying in the midst of the most frightful carnage, the greatest intrepidity and presence of mind." She was in the thick of every action and her boldness and utter disregard for personal safety inspired her soldiers and goaded them to action in the most desperate situations. And the Begum's troops were reputed to be the best in Hindustan. In regions far removed from Delhi, where Joanna's fame reached by hearsay only, she was believed to be living a charmed life. She was fabled to have been in possession of a spell which saved her from dangers and disconcerted her enemies. There was a story current in India that Joanna had a magic veil by waving which she was capable of destroying her enemies. The fact that she survived numerous situations of peril from her very childhood onwards and lived for 85 summers during a period in the history of the country wherein the span of human life was extremely short, the people may be pardoned for their credulity. We must, however, mention here a short period of misfortune that dogged the Begum's heels. Joanna, though she possessed an exceptionally virile mind, was, after all a woman, and for once she yielded herself to sentiments which nearly brought about her ruin, and no account of her life would be complete without some reference to this phase of her life. Thomas, the commander of her forces, as we have seen, was a man of proved ability and loyalty, and under his guidance the Begum's army was feared and respected by all. In the year 1790 a Frenchman named Levassoult entered her service. Levassoult was a handsome young adventurer, dashing and brave, and his bearing and mien attracted the Begum, then in the prime of her

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womanhood and possessing the vigour and looks of youth. He rose rapidly in his mistress* favour, and had a good following among the French officers of her army. Intrigues now started to oust the Irishman Thomas, and Levassoult being a favourite of the Begum the French did not find it very difficult to persuade the Begum to believe that Thomas was more concerned about promoting his own interests than the Begum's. The absence of Thomas from Sardhana on a campaign against the Sikhs gave Levassoult and his partisans a chance to fan suspicion and the Begum was even prevailed upon to ill-treat Thomas' wife. On his return from the campaign against the Sikhs, Thomas found Sardhana too hot for him, and he left the Begum's service in disgust. Levassoult, now left without a rival, lost no time in consolidating his position. The Begum was quite taken by the personal charm of the youthful Frenchman and when he proposed marriage, closed in immediately. But she wished to keep the matter a secret as it might have led to public scandal, Levassoult being her inferior in rank. Levassoult agreed, and the two were married by Fr. Gregorio who had baptized the Begum. The marriage ceremony was secretly performed and there were but two Frenchmen during the proceedings as witnesses. But such an affair could not be kept a secret for long. Levassoult himself was much elated by the marriage, and though he was passionately in love with the Begum, wished to play the Prince of Sardhana. A man of many parts, Levassoult's besetting sin was vanity. Even before his marriage he had imagined himself superior to his brother officers but after the marriage the tactless Frenchman openly assumed an attitude of arrogance and superiority. When the Begum entertained her officers, as was her wont on all important occasions, he began to take liberties with her much to her embarrassment and the surprise of her officers. The marriage was not known to many, tongues started wagging and the Begum and her character fell in the estimation of all. Those who admired Thomas and were smarting under the wrongs he had suffered now assumed an attitude of hostility.

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The reaction was sudden and terrific, and shows the fickle nature of loyalties at the time and the supreme need for tact, vigilance and caution in rulers. The catastrophe was precipitated by the Begum's ill-conceived plan to attack Thomas who had risen to power under his new patron, Appa Khande Rao, an ambitious Maharatha chief who entertained designs on Delhi. Thomas had caused the Begum considerable annoyance by spitefully attacking and laying waste part of her province while he was on a march past her territories. The Begum left Sardhana with her army and encamped about fifty miles south-east of Jhujjar with the avowed intention of attacking Thomas. But before her plans could materialize mutiny broke out in the army and the Begum had to beat a hasty retreat to Sardhana only to find that Legios, a friend of Thomas and an inveterate enemy of Levassoult, had already taken possession of the city. The Begum realized the hopelessness of her situation and took to flight with the intention of taking refuge in British territory. The mutineers invited Zafar Yab Khan, Joanna's stepson who was living in retirement at Delhi to take charge of Sardhana and assume the title of his late father. The young man at first hesitated; but pressed by the officers of the army he decided to march at their head to Sardhana. A detachment was also despatched to arrest the fleeing Begum and her husband. The pursuing column intercepted the Begum's party at Khirwa, in her own territory not many miles from Sardhana. Levassoult who was accompanying the Begum's palanquin on horse, seeing the detachment and the danger they were placed in, decided to put an end to himself rather than suffer the humiliation of capture and maltreatment. The Begum who was passionately fond of Levassoult for whom she had lost so much, firmly asserted that she would follow him unto death. Incidents reminiscent of the last scene in Antony and Cleopatra now occurred. As the insurgents closed in, a scream was heard from the palanquin and Levassoult peeping in found Joanna in a pool of blood. Levassoult took his revolver, and shot himself dead, and his lifeless form fell from the saddle. His corpse was subjected to "every act of insult

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and indignity. For three days it lay exposed to the insults of the rabble and was at length thrown into a ditch." Though the Begum had stabbed herself, the wound was not fatal. The dagger was turned off by a rib and she recovered from the swoon she had fallen into. The mutineers carried her captive to Sardhana. "She was taken to the old fort, and kept tied under a gun-carriage for seven days exposed to the scorching heat and a victim to die insults and jeers of the mob. She was denied food or drink, and would have perished of starvation but for the Ayahs who continued to be faithful to her and supplied her wants by stealth."* Zafar Yab Khan, goaded by his officers, now decided to consolidate his position. The Delhi Emperor now counted for little or nothing, and hence he thought it desirable to get his tide confirmed by the British, whose growing power was effectively felt in Delhi/In support of his claim Zafar produced a letter signed by the Begum stating that she had abdicated in his favour and requesting the British to confirm him in his title. Whether or not the letter was forged or obtained from the Begum under threat, it is not clear, but the Begum who had taken care to cultivate good relations with them had a high standing with the British and they withheld confirmation of Zafar till the facts of the case were fully known. The Begum had at least one friend in the army. He was M. Saleur, who, though he could not stay the mutiny, still thought well of her and remained loyal to her cause. Through his tactful intervention, the Begum was released from public confinement and was given a house to live in though her residence was closely guarded. From here the Begum now started working for her freedom, but she did not know whom to apply/or help. At last, after much deliberation, she decided to appeal to a person whom one would have least expected her to supplicate, showing thereby her thorough understanding of men, their weakness and their strength. For Joanna appealed to no other person than George Thomas, her most bitter enemy who was even suspected to have engineered the mutiny and reduced her to her present plight. * Begum Samru, Banerji.

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Thomas was a peculiar man possessing most of the characteristics that distinguish the Irish as a nation apart. He could be extraordinarily bitter and violent when roused, but equally generous and large-hearted when touched by love or pity. He had, after all been a close associate of the Begum for long, and her chief adviser and loyal general; rumours were even current that he was passionately in love with the Begum and his bitterness and recent enmity were inspired by jealousy of Levassoult. The Begum knew her Thomas well and wrote to him for help. Joanna did not mince matters. She described to him in detail her miserable plight and her fear of being poisoned by Zafar Yab Khan and his henchmen any day and told him plainly that she had no friend left in the world except her former general and ally. She sincerely apologized to him for the wrong she had done him. Would Thomas forgive her and deliver her from her enemies? The letter touched the heart of the chivalrous Irishman. He took prompt action. Scindia was bought over by the promise of a handsome bribe, and Thomas marched to Sardhana at the head of his army. As threat of punishment of the mutineers might have endangered the life of the Begum, he encamped outside the principality of Sardhana and issued a proclamation that the Scindia as the Deputy of the Emperor took serious objection to the mutiny and usurpation of power by Zafar Yab Khan, and all officers and men of the army were ordered on pain of death, to disown Zafar Yab and reinstate the Begum. A part of the army now decided in favour of the Begum and proclaimed her the queen of Sardhana. But by the time Thomas arrived in Sardhana a counter revolution had already placed Zafar Yab back on the throne. Thomas declared that he would, on the orders of the Scindia, enforce his decision on the point of the sword and his strong stand had the desired effect. The army abided by his decision and the Begum was formally reinstated in her old charge. Thus, after remaining in captivity and disgrace for about a year, Joanna regained her status as the Princess of Sardhana.

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The lesson she learnt was bitter. Never again did she allow her sentiments to get the better of her judgement in the management of her kingdom and her army. The Begum rewarded M. Jean Saleur by appointing him chief of her army. Zafar Yab Khan fled to Delhi where he died a prisoner. Nor did the Begum forget the prompt action of Thomas. When the fortune of that great adventurer turned and he was left without a friend in India, it was the Begum who took charge of his family. Thomas died in India while making arrangements to leave the country, and the Begum adopted his son John Thomas and provided for the family. She did everything to obliterate her connection with Levassoult and in order to placate the army took care to keep all her past association with him a secret. She even renamed her adopted heir Dyce Samru so that the soldiers and officers could feel that they were serving the legal heir of the redoubtable Reinhardt Samru whose memory they had cherished even during their revolt against the Begum. The Begum did not enjoy her possessions for long without disturbance. The Emperor's power counted for nothing, but she soon felt the impact of British expansion. Towards the close of the eighteenth century it became clear to every ruler in India that the passing of Indian suzerainty to the British was a matter of time, and the shrewd Joanna, in spite of her late husband's inveterate hatred of them, took care to remain on the right side of the British. Her religion also attracted her to the British, and in 1791 she had, in order to cultivate their friendship, released on payment of a large ransom Col. Stuart, the British Commandant of the then frontier station of Anupshahr, who had fallen into the hands of the Sikh chief Bhanga Singh. The Begum continued the good work by cordial correspondence and it looked as though the old hostility of the British towards Reinhardt had lessened towards his widow. But the arrival of Lord Wellesly as the Governor-General in 1798 brought about a change in their dealings with the Begum. Wellesly was determined to push on the Company's dominion to the farthest limit of India, and it irked him to note that the fertile and strategic principality of

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Sardhana remained independent so close to Delhi, and he wished to annex it. Simultaneously with the rise of the British power in Hindustan proper, the affairs of the Maharathas fell into a bad way. Chief began to fight chief, and the power of the Scindia with whom the Begum had an alliance waned and dissentions started in his dominions. The British in their all absorbing desire to push their advantage treated treaties and alliances with contempt and began to annex every kingdom that came in their way without the least regard to justice or treaty obligations. It was clear to the Begum that a rupture between the Scindia and the British was imminent, and she had to decide in favour of one or the other. The situation called forth all her powers of diplomacy and tact. The Begum was a masterful tactician and managed to remain friendly with both the British and the Maharathas. But Wellesly was a hard man to please. He had his eye on Sardhana, and appeals to justice and chivalry made by his own diplomats and army chiefs were lost upon him. He was determined to have Sardhana but was prepared to allot an equal or larger area of land to the Begum elsewhere. The battle of Assaye in which the British defeated Scindia left them the virtual rulers of Hindustan and placed them in a favourable position to force their will on Sardhana. The Begum realized the futility of resisting the British, and after protracted negotiations agreed to give up Sardhana and accept a principality on the west side of the Jumna which they were in a position to offer her because of the defeat of the Maharathas and the British claim to territories once held by them. But when Wellesly wrote to her on 23rdDec. 1803 that she must immediately relinquish Sardhana and the proposed territory on the west side of the Jumna would be made over to her at His Lordship's leisure, the letter brought forth a spirited reply from the Begum. The Begum's reply was addressed to Lt.-Col. Ochterlony who was arranging negotiations. The Begum wrote: "You have written to me to evacuate and deliver over the

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districts of Sardhana etc. which has been my residence for a length of years, and on which I have expended lakhs of rupees in buildings and habitations to the amils of the English gentlemen immediately on their arrival. My brother, it is proper that you should consider that when I go away from here, I require a place to stay in where I may reside with my family and dependants. There are near a thousand destitute persons and lame and blind people in this district for whom a place of abode is necessary. From the commencement until the present time no gentleman invested with authority has disgraced me in this manner. At the period when the English gentlemen acquired possession of Hindustan I rejoiced that from a consideration of my being of the same religion with theirs I should by some means or other be exalted in rank but the contrary has happened for they have required of me several districts possessed of me for thirty years. What may not happen to the rest? If it be the intention of the gentlemen by some means or other to dispossess me, what occasion is there for preserving appearances? Do, my brother, come and having laid hold of my hand turn me out of my abode. The world is not narrow and I am not lame. I will sit down in some retired corner and pass my time in solitude."* The Begum naturally suspected the intentions of the British, then notorious for perfidy, and the only explanation she could think of for their haste in demanding the surrender of Sardhana was that they wanted to grab her kingdom and then enter into dilatory correspondence which would eventually end in nothing. She was not prepared to accept this if she could possibly avoid it. Though she did not openly break off with the British there was enough to show in her attitude that any day she would flee into their enemy's camp. The Maharathas took full advantage of the situation, and even made a letter available to the British intelligence agents which was supposed to have been written by the Begum signifying her alliance with Jaswant Rao Holkar then plotting against the British. The letter was a forgery and it took some time before the British discovered the fraud but in * Quoted in Begum Samru by Banerji.

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the meantime the Begum's sincerity was suspect. The British, however, did not consider it desirable to alienate the Begum completely at the time as they had more than enough at their hands, what with the constant trouble the Maharathas and the Sikhs were giving them. A letter dated loth Dec. 1804 written by the Agent to the Governor-General aptly describes the situation: "As the situation of the Begum both from the geographical position of her country, and from the nature of her military strength, is or appears to me to be, such as to render her either a most useful ally or a very troublesome enemy, without the possibility of her ever becoming formidable as a neighbouring Power, I should imagine that the conciliating her might in the present state of affairs be a simple and effectual means of restoring and preserving the tranquillity of the upper part of the Doab. Her force is said to consist of nine battalions of infantry and 40 guns. These if subsidized by the Government and opposed to the Sikhs, might as far as I can judge, completely prevent their committing depredations in the British territories and, by insuring the realisation of the collections, greatly enhance the value of the highly capable district now in question." The Begum's discontent against the British became widely known, and Holkar and Ranjit Singh sent their agents to persuade her to join them and fight the British. The Begum and her officers, because of their nationality and religion, still wished to maintain cordial relations with the British; the shrewd Joanna must have also realized the futility of resisting the rising power of the British and the danger of openly alienating them. In this difficult situation she played her part well. Rumour spread all over the country that the Begum was in favour of accepting the offer of Ranjit Singh who promised her an annual subsidy of one lakh of rupees and a jaghire in return for military help, and the Begum did nothing to contradict these rumours. On the contrary some changes in the command were either made or ordered to be made, and this move was construed as an indication that the Begum wished to enter into hostility with the British and did

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not like the idea of a European commanding the army when war appeared imminent with a European power; an Indian or Armenian commander was likely to be more faithful to her cause. It was now the turn of the British to worry. Ranjit Singh's strength was well known to the British and a powerful Sikh ally like the Begum so close to Delhi was not likely to minimise their troubles in respect of the Sikhs. The Holkar with the Rajah of Bharatpur was seriously threatening the British forces in the Doab. The Sikhs beat Col. Burn, took Saharanpur and captured Mr. G. D. Guthrie, the British Collector. Surely this was no time to force Wellesly's designs on Sardhana. In fact it became the painful duty of Lord Lake who was in charge of operations in this part of India to court the Begum and obtain the release of Mr. Guthrie which the Begum readily did as the professed ally of the British. The Begum's activities puzzled everybody. While conducting and encouraging negotiations with the Sikhs and Maharathas, she never joined either. While assuming an attitude of hostility towards the British, she went out of her way to get Mr. Guthrie released. She engendered and propagated all sorts of rumours about imminent outbreak of hostility between the British and herself, but in her actual dealings with them her conduct was exemplary and most cordial. Ochterlony who knew the Begum well was as impatient of Wellesly's obstinacy as the Begum herself and did nothing to allay the Governor-General's fears of the Begum's disaffection. All told, the Begum's diplomacy proved eminently successful, and Wellesly did not consider the time opportune to dislodge the Begum from Sardhana. In July 1805 Lord Cornwallis came to India for the second time and replaced Wellesly. The new Governor-General was a man of mature wisdom and pursued a conciliatory policy towards Indian rulers. Lord Lake had no difficulty in persuading Cornwallis to abandon the idea of annexing Sardhana and to reinstate the Begum in her principality for life. She too agreed to accept the suzerainty of the British and accordingly Mr. Guthrie who

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owed her much was sent to Sardhana with a letter of authority confirming her tide as the Princess of Sardhana. The GovernorGeneral wrote to her as follows: "I have great pleasure in apprising you that reposing entire confidence in your disposition to maintain the obligations of attachment and fidelity to the British Government, I have resolved to leave you in the unmolested possession of your jaghire, with all the rights and privileges you have hitherto enjoyed. As the condition of this indulgence I have a right to expect that you will not only abstain from affording encouragement to those turbulent persons who are disposed to excite confusion and promote disorders, but that you will cordially assist in preventing their attempts to disturb the tranquillity of the Company's territories." The Begum was now 54 years of age and looked forward to a settled and peaceful life. After the treaty with the British she withdrew from the active field and was content to live as a faithful ally of the British. She had absolute authority over her own dominion, but her relationship with other powers was defined by the treaty and she was content to leave these matters to the British. She reduced the size of her army and what was left could be made available to the British when they needed it. She did not now care to take a personal interest in the conflicts which the powers were then engaged in, but set herself to work for the development of her jaghire and the welfare of her subjects. The province of Sardhana was a fertile agricultural region and she improved the irrigation system and actively helped the peasantry. Under her constant care the lot of the peasants improved greatly and her peasants and their fields were reputed the best in Hindustan, Travellers report that Sardharia stood as a green smiling land in sharp contrast to the general devastation the country was reduced to during the protracted conflicts of the time. The annual revenue yielded about a million rupees. The Begum often gave splendid parties in her palace, and many a distinguished European traveller was attracted to her court by her fame. Mrs. Deane, an English lady who visited Sardhana

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in 1810, has left us the following interesting account of the Begum's military establishment: "We were escorted over the estate by her colonel-commandant, a respectable old gentleman of the name of Peton, a Frenchman by birth but resident at her court for many years. She has a regular cantonment here for her troops, and a strong fort containing some good houses which are inhabited by her officers and their families. Her soldiers are tall stout men, with light complexions, hooked noses and strongly marked features, being principally Rajputs who are the best soldiers, but much addicted to chewing opium, generally proud and often insolent. Their uniform is a dress of black blue broadcloth, reaching to the feet, with scarlet turbans and waistbands. Her park of artillery seemed also in excellent order; most of the large guns stood in a line in front of the palace gates." Major Archer wrote of her as the Indian Elizabeth: "She has through a long life maintained her station and security among a host of contending powers and may bear the honour of similarity of character with our Elizabeth/' Mrs. Deane has left us a pleasing pen portrait of the Begum: "Her features are still handsome, although she is now advanced in years. She is a small woman, delicately formed, with beautiful hazel eyes; a nose somewhat inclined to the acquiline, a complexion very little darker than an Italian, with the finest turned hand and arm I ever beheld. Zophanay, the painter, when he saw her, pronounced it a perfect model. She is universally attentive and polite. A graceful dignity accompanies her most trivial actions; she can be even fascinating when she has any point to carry." In her younger days, the Begum used to observe Purdah and when appearing in public or giving audience wore a veil; but after her treaty with die British and better social contact with them her way of life changed and she adopted many of the usages of the Europeans. She often gave parties which were attended by British officers, and on these occasions dressed in English style and sat with them at table. She was a brilliant conversationalist

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with a keen sense of humour. When the Governor-General or Commander-in-Chief visited Sardhana, she put forth all the splendour of her court and entertained him on a lavish scale. On these occasions she dressed in a peculiar style, half European and half Indian, wearing a turban and decked with a 'prodigious quantity of jewels'. Her Christmas and New Year parties were reputed the best in India. The British settlement at Meerut, because of its close proximity to Sardhana, was specially favoured of the Begum and often enjoyed her hospitality. She kept a fine band of European musicians under the famous M. Antoine who, on her death, was employed by Ranjit Singh who had a predilection for western music. The Begum was also a lover of Indian dancing and for the entertainment of visitors maintained a troupe of trained dancers. The Begum was particularly considerate to European ladies and "seldom permitted them to quit her presence without bestowing upon them some token of her generosity, according to the native custom, either a Cashmere shawl or a piece of silk or a jewel, to the value of 20 or 30 guineas." Some proud Englishmen, however, felt humiliated by this generosity of the Begum. "When we recollect who the Begum originally was, the diabolical character of her husband . . . it is strange thus to find an enlightened British community, the victors of the soil, doing homage and seeking favours at her footstool, or even condescending to partake of her hospitality." So wrote one Bacon. An amusing incident which illustrates the presence of mind of the Begum and her ability to save the most embarrassing situation by her ready wit is narrated by Pearse in his Memoir of Lake. In 1803 when negotiations for the transfer of Sardhana were taking place, Lord Lake wrote to the Begum to come to his camp near Bharatpur as he had some important matters to discuss with her. Some other Indian Chiefs were also invited, but the Begum was the first to arrive. "Upon this occasion an incident occurred of a curious and characteristic description. She arrived at headquarters, it appears, just after dinner and being carried in her palanquin at once to the reception tent, his lordship came out

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to meet and receive her. As the adhesion of every petty chieftain was, in those days, of consequence, Lord Lake was not a little pleased at the early demonstration of the Begum's loyalty and being a little elevated by the wine which had just been drunk, he forgot the novel circumstances of its being a native female he was about to receive, instead of some well-bearded chief, so he gallantly advanced, and to the utter dismay of her attendants, took her in his arms and kissed her. The mistake might have been awkward, but the lady's presence of mind put all right. Receiving courteously the proffered attention, she turned calmly round to her astonished attendants—'It is,' said she, 'the salute of a padre (priest) to his daughter.' The Begum professes Christianity, and thus the explanation was perfectly in character though more experienced spectators might have smiled at the appearance of the jolly red-coated clergyman, exhibited in the person of his lordship." The splendid parties she gave and her social activities were mainly intended for her army officers and the British guests; the Begum herself lived a simple, plain life. As she advanced in years, she became deeply religious and lived an almost saintly life. She adorned Sardhana and other towns of her province with many a church and chapel. In 1820 she had a beautiful church built at Sardhana on the model of St. Peter's at a cost of four lakhs of rupees; the congregation at Sardhana consisted of about 2,000 Christians. Though a staunch Catholic, the Begum's interest extended to all denominations and her charity to everyone who was needy. In 1830 she had a chapel built for her Anglican subjects. In 1831 the Begum practically retired from public life, having made her will and invested her adopted son Dyce Samru with authority. She was then 80 years of age. She gave freely of her vast wealth, and her generosity became a byword in North India. In 1834 she sent to Pope Gregory XVI an alms of a lakh and a half of rupees 'as a small token of her sincere love for the holy religion she professed.' On her recommendation the Pope raised Sardhana to a Bishopric and her own domestic chaplain Father Julius

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Scotti was ordained the first Bishop of Sardhana. Dyce Samru was knighted by the Pope. Nor was the Pope the only head of a church to receive her alms. She sent to the Archbishop of Canterbury fifty thousand rupees for the promotion of 'the most deserving protestant institution in England/ For the benefit of Indian protestants she gave a princely sum of a lakh and a half of rupees, one lakh of which to be set apart for the instruction and ordination of young aspirants for ministerial duties and the remainder for the liberating, on Good Friday, deserving cases of impoverished debtors imprisoned at Calcutta. About five lakhs were in addition given away for repairing and maintainance of churches in Sardhana and elsewhere. The Tibetan mission regularly received donations from her. "She subscribed liberally towards Hindu and Muslim institutions also." Although the Begum retired from active life, she still kept good health, and it looked as though she would Hve for ever. She became a legend and a marvel. The saint Shakir Shah of Meerut is said to have averted her death in 1831. The Begum fell dangerously ill this year and the saint went to Sardhana to see her. He was old and feeble and on the way to Sardhana the good man died. His last words were: 'Aya Tore, Chale Ham', meaning, 'the call came for you, but I answered it'. The Begum recovered from her illness, and coming to hear of the saint's death on his way to Sardhana she had a beautiful tomb built for him. The final call came at last, and her remarkable life of 85 summers ended in the year 1836. "She had an attack of fever and after a few days' illness during which she retained her consciousness to the last, prepared by the sacrament and prayers of the church, she quietly expired in her palace at Sardhana on Wednesday the 27th January, about half-past six in the morning. The momentous news spread all over northern India and people from far and wide hied to Sardhana and this town within a few hours of the Begum's death became a surging sea of humanity. The crowds that assembled outside the palace walls, and on the roads were immense, and one scene of lamentation and sorrow was apparent; the grief was deep and silent; the clustered groups talked of nothing but the

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heavy loss they had sustained, and the intensity of their sorrow was pictured in their countenances nor did they separate for the night. According to the custom of the country the whole of the dependants observed a strict fast; there was no preparing of meals, no retiring to rest; all were watchful and every house was a scene of mourning." The body lay in state till 8 o'clock next morning when the funeral took place. "All arrangements being completed, the body was carried out, borne by the native Christians of the artillery battalion under a canopy, supported by the principal officers of her late Highness's troops, and the pall by Messrs. Dyce Sombre, Solaroli, Drever and Troup, preceded by the whole of Her Highness's bodyguard followed by the Bishop chanting portions of the service, aided by the choristers of the Cathedral. After them the Magistrate Mr. Hamilton and then the chief officers of the household, the whole brought up by a battalion of her late Highness's infantry, and a troop of horse. The procession preceded by four elephants from which alms and cakes were distributed among the crowd, passed through a street formed of the troops at Sardhana, to the door of the Cathedral, the entrance to which was kept by a guard of honour from the soth N.L under the command of Capt. Campbell. The procession passed into the body of the church in the centre of which the coffin was deposited on trestles. High mass was then performed in excellent style, and with great feeling by the Bishop. "Thus terminated the career of one who, for upwards of half a century, had held a conspicuous place in the political proceedings of India. In the Begum Samru the British authorities had an ardent and sincere ally, ever ready, in the spirit of true chivalry, to aid and assist, to the utmost of her means, their fortunes and interests." On the Begum's death Sardhana, according to the treaty between the British and the Begum, lapsed to the British and Dyce Samru was pensioned off. To the last Dyce cherished the memory of his great adopted mother. He had a tombstone erected to her memory and the work was executed by the famous Italian sculptor

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Tandolini at a cost of 40,000 rupees. On the panels was inscribed the following fitting legend: "Sacred to the memory of Her Highness Joanna Zebunissa, the Begum Sombre, styled the Distinguished of Nobles and Beloved Daughter of the State, who quitted a transitory court for an eternal world, revered and lamented by thousands of her devoted subjects at her palace at Sardhana, on the 2yth of January 1836, aged ninety years*. Her remains are deposited underneath in this Cathedral built by herself. To her powerful mind, her remarkable talent, and the wisdom, justice and moderation with which she governed for a period exceeding half a century he, to whom she was more than a mother, is not the person to award praise, but in grateful respect to her beloved memory is this monument erected by him who humbly trusts she will receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away. David Ochterlony Dyce Sombre." To this prayer of Dyce we can only add 'Amen*.

* According to lunar reckoning.

CHAPTER IX EARLY PROTESTANT MISSIONS THE power of the Spaniards and the Portuguese, and the material prosperity that resulted from their maritime activities, inspired the jealousy of lesser nations. Both these great nations of the middle ages were staunchly Catholic and the Pope mediating between them allotted the East to the Portuguese, and the newly discovered continent of America and countries farther West to the Spaniards. Other European powers, as long as they respected the authority of the Pope, had to abide by his decision. But with the revolt against Rome, started under Luther, several newly risen powers rejected the authority of the Pope, and of these the Dutch and the English were the most important. These Protestant nations had a double incentive in overthrowing the power of the Spaniards and the Portuguese; they wanted to show their contempt for the Pope and at the same time wrest naval supremacy from the Iberians. Both the English and the Dutch successfully challenged the monopoly of trade enjoyed by the Portuguese in the East. The Dutch captured the Portuguese strongholds of Quilon and Cranganoor and finally, in January 1663, Cochin. The ambition of the Dutch as far as India was concerned was confined to trade, but the English began to develop political ambitions. The internal dissensions that followed the decline and fall of the Mogul Empire made matters easy for them, and from their small settlements in the coastal regions the English made inroads into the Peninsula and finally became the undisputed masters of the vast subcontinent. Unlike the Catholic Portuguese, the Protestant nations thought, at any rate in the initial stages of their development, that they had no responsibility to preach the Gospel in the East. They hated the Catholic Portuguese and wherever they found them fought them; beyond this they thought they had no religious duty. More150

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over the Protestant traders were the servants of private commercial enterprise whose sole aim was profit, and the preaching of the Gospel was the responsibility of ministers and not of traders. Nor were ministers very keen in those days to preach the Gospel. The newly formed Protestant churches were too pre-occupied with reformation at home and quarrels with Catholics to devote much attention to non-Christians. Some of the Reformist leaders even thought that they had no mission towards non-Christians. The theologians Theodore Beza and John Gerhard, for instance, maintained that Jesus' command to preach the Gospel to the nations of the world was addressed to his immediate disciples, and their successors were not competent to continue the work. Besides, Luther himself had thought that within a hundred years of his time the world would come to an end. "Another hundred years," said he, "and all will be over. The Gospel is despised. God's word will disappear for want of any to preach it. Mankind will turn into Epicureans and care for nothing. They will not believe that God exists. Then the voice will be heard, Behold the Bridegroom cometh." As such good Protestants thought their immediate duty was the purification of their own selves for the Second Coming and not the preaching of the Gospel to the people of India and China. Many a Christian minister also thought that the work of conversion was God's and not man's. When William Carey, for instance, prior to his departure to India, suggested, in a meeting of ministers, that he would like to discuss 'the duty of Christians to attempt the spread of the Gospel among the heathen nations,' Mr. Ryland, the Chairman ordered: "Young man, sit down. When God pleases to convert the heathen, He will do it without your aid or mine." Carey, of course, refused to sit down, but that's another story. Anyway, the East India Company did not want missionaries to come to India. There was a clause in their charter which prohibited sending out to India 'missionaries and gentlemen.' The atmosphere in which the servants of the Company lived in India was not congenial for these types of people. Besides, it was difficult to trade in India according to the precepts of the Sermon on

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the Mount, and business and religion did not go very well together. We have seen that the Portuguese had earned for Europeans a bad name in India by their licentious lives. But we must remember that the Portuguese had an Archbishop and a responsible Viceroy in Goa, and Bishops, Governors and clergy elsewhere to regulate and correct the lives of their countrymen. The English settlers were not troubled by any of these. They lived as they liked. Rejection of Catholicism did not immediately make all Englishmen good Protestants. Most of the servants of the East India Company were society's hard bargains. The aim of the Governors of the Company was profit, and agreeable to official notions on such matters, they refused to interfere with the private life of their servants. The way of life of the Governors and other responsible employees of die Company was not very correct either. In their dealings with Indians, they never kept their word if they stood to profit by perfidy. The dealings of Warren Hastings, Clive and others are too notorious to deserve mention here. If this was the morality of responsible officials, that of the subordinates can very well be imagined. In their personal lives, the early English settlers in India were a reproach to their countrymen and their settlements became hotbeds of corruption, immorality, gambling, violence and drunkenness. These were not, certainly, the people who could convert Hindus and Muslims. In fact the Indians judged Christianity by the way of life of the Christians, and Terry makes the following comment about the opinion Indians held about Christianity at the time: "It is a most sad and horrible thing to consider what scandal there is brought upon the Christian religion by the looseness and remissness, by the exorbitances of many which come amongst them, who profess themselves Christians, of whom I have often heard the natives who live near the ports where our ships arrive say thus, in broken English, which they have gotten—'Christian religion, devil religion; Christians much drunk; Christians much do wrong; much beat much abuse others'." This being the atmosphere in which the early English lived in

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India, it is not surprising that it is neither the powerful English nor the Dutch who first sent out Protestant missions to India but little Denmark. This country had an insignificant trading settlement in Tranquebar, and King Frederick IV sponsored the despatch of the first Protestant mission to India. Ziegenbalg and Heinrich Plutschau, the first Protestant missionaries, reached India on pth July 1706. They met with much opposition from the civil authorities of Tranquebar who were inclined to doubt the missionaries' claim of royal patronage. They were suspect and their work, apparently the isolated effort of two misguided zealots, was thought a mad enterprise. But the missionaries were determined men and neither indifference nor hostility deterred them. Their first effort was to get over the language difficulty. The two missionaries studied Tamil, attending the village school and sitting cross-legged with the urchins and tracing the alphabet in sand in the traditional manner of Indian schools. As soon as they learnt enough Tamil to make themselves understood, they started preaching. The success of the missionaries was not spectacular, but they persisted. They were considerably handicapped by lack of funds; but worse than this was the way of life of European Christians in India which made missionary work difficult. Ziegenbalg thus describes his experience in this matter: "All our demonstration about the excellency of the Christian constitution make but a very slight impression, while they find Christians so much debauched in their manners, and so given to gluttony, drunkenness, lewdness, cursing, swearing, cheating and cozening, notwithstanding all their precious pretence to the best religion. But more particularly are they offended with that proud and insulting temper which is so obvious in the conduct of our Christians here." Under these conditions many could not be induced to embrace Christianity. But the missionaries never gave up hope and were successful in converting a few; these were mostly poor or destitute persons and the impecunious mission had to support them in addition to supporting their own members. In three years' time, however, the congregation became large enough to need a church,

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and in the year 1709 funds were raised. Two years later the foundation stone was laid for a church and the first Protestant church in India was built. The building of the church and feeding of the congregation cost a good deal of money; remittance from home was not coming on time because of the irregular nature of communications, and the charity of local sympathisers proved utterly inadequate for the needs of the community. The civil authorities of Tranquebar, already suspicious of the bona fides of the missionaries, were now confirmed in their unbelief of royal patronage of the mission. The Governor acted promptly and with speed. On a trifling pretext he had the impoverished Ziegenbalg thrown into prison. The congregation, poor as it was, raised funds with the help of friends and sympathisers of the missionary and managed to secure his freedom. Soon after, the long awaited remittance came from home together with loyal and devoted workers. A period of prosperity now ensued and Ziegenbalg who had until now worked among the poor decided to assail the fortress of the mighty. The Brahmins and Rajahs, the hope and despair at once of the European missionary, now claimed his attention. He decided to convert the Brahmin by argument, the most disastrous course of action a European missionary could possibly embark upon. Whatever the superiority of the European in active virtues, in polemics few have proved equal to the Brahmin. The result of Ziegenbalg's enterprise was just what could be expected. In a notable debate held under the auspices of the Dutch in Negapatam, Ziegenbalg disputed with a Brahmin for five hours, and far from converting the Brahmin, the missionary came away with an excessive admiration for the intellectual gifts of his adversary. The brilliant Brahmin's "quickness in evading logical conclusions, and delivering return thrusts at some weakness in the exposition of the Christian position" evoked Zieganbalg's frank admiration. He derived, he said, very little help from the treatises written by learned men in Europe on how to convert the heathen. "Well may they write on this subject while they argue with

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themselves only, and fetch both the objections and the answers from their own stock. Should they come to closer converse with the Pagans, and hear their shifts and evasions themselves, they would not find them so destitute of arguments as we imagine. They are able to baffle, now and then, one proof alleged for Christianity with ten others brought against it." It is clear that Ziegenbalg did not have the necessary proficiency in the language and familiarity with the religious literature of the Hindus to make himself a successful disputant. Nor had he the intellectual gifts of some of the learned members of the Society of Jesus. He realized his weakness and gave up all attempts at conversion by argument. He now intensified his efforts to capture the heart rather than the head, and gave wide publicity to the teachings of the Gospel and the simple Christian ideals taught by the Saviour. He translated the New Testament into Tamil. The crudeness of the language elicited derisive remarks by the Roman Brahmin Beschi, but it could be understood and appreciated by the Tamil folk. A catechism for the instruction of the neophytes, a short Life of Christ, and the Danish Liturgy helped the converts to grasp the fundamentals of Christian doctrine and worship. Other works by Ziegenbalg were An Elementary Compendium of Theology, A Book of Hymns, A Statement of the Christian, Jewish and Pagan Religions, The Genealogy of the Deities of Malabar and a Tamil-German Dictionary for the use of missionaries. Zeigenbalg was not, however, very strong on the geography of South India and often confused Malabar with Tamil districts. His Tamil dictionary was called by him Malabarik Dictionary. To the delight of Ziegenbalg, a gifted Tamil poet named Kanabadi Vathiar, was converted by him, and the poet rendered into Tamil music the story of Christ and certain incidents from the Bible. Children were taught these songs and the Christian congregations of Tranquebar attracted a large number of Christians and non-Christians. The Tamils are exceptionally amenable to music. Ziegenbalg was, in short, the originator of those methods of mission work which later Protestant missionaries faithfully

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followed. His own exemplary life was the main inspiration of his colleagues and congregation. Ziegenbalg was not only a good missionary but an able pubHeist. He maintained constant touch with the authorities at home and with other Protestant countries, especially England, and took care to acquaint them of the activities of the Tranquebar mission. "Letters containing full accounts of his doings, and packed with information regarding the country and its people, were regularly transmitted by him to his old teacher and Pietist leader Francks. These were circulated throughout Germany and Denmark, and roused much interest as well as evoking financial help. When translated into EngHsh and circulated in England, they proved even more effective as a missionary stimulus." The newly formed Society for the Propagation of the Gospel took immediate notice of the work of Ziegenbalg and remitted to the Tranquebar Mission a token gift of £20. The Society wished to extend its patronage on a permanent basis but its constitution prevented the extending of its activities beyond British colonies. Hence the sister Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge took up the good work and continued to help the mission in many ways. The favourable impression thus created was taken full advantage of by Ziegenbalg who visited Europe in 1715. He travelled extensively and enlisted support for his mission. The EngHsh were particularly helpful. He was well received by the Archbishop of Canterbury and King George I, and the S.P.C.K. presented him an address. He made many friends in Europe and after working in the newly formed Missionary Board of Copenhagen for controlling the activities of missionaries who worked in distant fields, returned to India in August 1715 with his young wife, his marriage having taken place during his stay in Europe. During his absence, Ziegenbalg's work was carried on by his associates and with the added strength gained from the leader's European tour, the power and prestige of the Tranquebar Mission rose. The hostiHty of the civil authorities ceased and was replaced by active co-operation. The powerful East India Company

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of England began to appreciate the work of the Mission, and some of the Chaplains and Presidents of the Company in Madras invited the missionaries to their settlement and gave them considerable financial help. Because of this good relationship between the English and the missionaries, the activities of the Tranquebar Mission, unofficially though, extended to Madras and Cuddalore, and when on February 23rd, 1718, Ziegenbalg died at the comparatively early age of 36, the foundation of Protestant Missions in India had been strongly laid. During the closing years of his life, Ziegenbalg had considerable trouble with the Missionary Board at home. Wendt, the new President of the Board, was a pious and devoted Christian of extreme views who disapproved of many of the methods of Ziegenbalg. Bovingh, Ziegenbalg's own associate, shared some of Wendt's views. According to these zealots the missionaries were to copy the example of the Apostles in every respect. The missionaries were expected to provide nothing for themselves or their congregation but were to go about preaching to the people eating what chance brought and sleeping wherever they found themselves at night. Churches, schools, orphanages, organized propaganda and requests for contributions had no place in their scheme. Their disapproval of Ziegenbalg's methods burst forth into open hostility when he had to make some reluctant concessions to caste, that despair of early missionaries in India. Though Ziegenbalg did not share the Roman Brahmins' views on caste, he had to recognize a barrier between the Pariah converts and the higher Christians who would not pray with them. Similarly he had to accede to the clamour of the higher converts for precedence in the matter of approaching the Table for Holy Communion. Though Zeigenbalg had trouble with the Board, it did not assume serious proportions and the first Protestant missionary of India died respected by all. Compared to the work of the early Jesuits, Zeigenbalg had achieved nothing very spectacular. His ambition was not very great either. But he had shown, if nothing else, what a man of average intelligence and capabilities could

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achieve in the mission field with faith and a willingness to hard work. The work of the Tranquebar Mission was continued by a band of devoted men of whom Christian Friederich Schwartz was the greatest. When he arrived in Tranquebar on July soth, 1750, the seed sown by Ziegenbalg had taken root and was growing rapidly. The congregation had increased to 8,000 souls, and the mission had established outposts in Madras, Cuddalore, Tanjore, Trichinopoly and Negapatam. The prestige of the Mission had also risen because of the patronage of the English East India Company which was now recognized as a first rate power able to actively interfere in the affairs of the Indian potentates not only near the coast but farther inland; this no doubt made European Christians more hateful to Hindus and Muslims but India began to view them as a people of superior military strength. It was in this atmosphere that Schwartz arrived in India. He studied Tamil and generally followed the beaten track of Ziegenbalg. The greatness of Schwartz was not in his intellectual brilliance, nor in his pioneering zeal, but in his devotion to work and exemplary Christian life. His success as a missionary was also due, in some measure, to the active support he received from the English. He worked for some time as the Chaplain of the British garrison in Trichinopoly and it is remarkable that his open association with the English did not adversely afiect his reputation for honesty and Christian virtue. The Nawab of Carnatic once told him: "Padre, we had always looked on you, Europeans, as ungodly men who knew not the use of prayers till you came among us." Schwartz's prayers, however, did not bring about any revolutionary change in the way of life of his countrymen. An interesting incident in this connection is worth narrating/One day the good missionary happened to meet a Hindu friend in the company of a dancing girl and Schwartz, horror-struck, preached to his friend on the sin of associating with dancing girls. The Hindu was warned by the pious Christian that men of such unholy habits would not enter the kingdom of heaven. "In that case," came

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the quick retort from the dancer, "hardly any European will ever enter it." The dancer knew her Europeans well, and Schwartz could only hold his head down for shame. Schwartz, usually kind and tolerant towards human weaknesses wrote about the Europeans of his time: "It is extremely difficult when describing our situation here to give any one a just conception of it, without adverting to the profligacy of the Europeans. The great among them aim at nothing but to live in pleasure and become rich. If not readily successful in the latter object, they resort to unjust means, the employment of which hardens the mind to so alarming a degree that they will hear nothing of the word of God, and too frequently plunge into the most frightful infidelity." It is remarkable that when the English approached Hyder Ali with a request for diplomatic relations, he would accept no envoy but Schwartz. The wiliness of the English had made reliable negotiations impossible. "Let them send me the Christian, he wiU not deceive me;" was the reply the English received from Hyder to their request for opening diplomatic negotiations. The English were not, at that time, in a position to ignore or challenge the power of the Sultan of Mysore or to argue with him. Hence at the personal request of Sir Thomas Rumbold, the Governor of Madras, Schwartz proceeded to Seringapatam as the envoy of the British. The missionary was no cunning diplomat, and he failed in his political mission. But Hyder's esteem for Schwartz only increased by personal contact. It is worth while to mention that during the troublous days that followed, when Hyder's armies scourged the plains of the south, the missionary was permitted to travel unmolested wherever he wished and was allowed to preach and convert. For Hyder had issued his army chief the following order: "Permit the venerable padre Schwartz to pass unmolested and show him respect and kindness; for he is a holy man, and means no harm to my government." Another political responsibility was bestowed upon Schwartz by the English. The Rajah of Tanjore falling under the evil influence of his minister, the British, who had developed considerable interest in the state, interfered. They deposed the Rajah,

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dismissed the minister and took over the administration of the state and appointed a council of three ministers to administer the internal affairs of the state; and Schwartz was one of them. The Rajah was an old friend of Schwartz and the new office instead of straining their relations strengthened the bond between them. The Rajah went so far as to entrust Schwartz with the care of his adopted son Serfojee, then ten years of age. On the Rajah's death, his half brother Ameer Singh prevailed upon the British to set aside the adoption and appoint him ruler of the state. Schwartz did not succeed in his efforts, to refute the claims of Ameer Singh but he managed to remove Serfojee to Madras and bring him up under his care. He heroically fought for the rights of his protege and at last the English were obliged to reverse their decision in favour of Serfojee. But the decision came after Schwartz's death. Schwartz died on February I3th, 1798. All mourned the good man's death. "When the tidings went out, all over the land was heard a great wail that the 'good padre' was no more. Prince and peasant, soldiers and civilians, Christian, Hindu, andMohammadan alike mourned the friend whom th$y had lost. Never probably has the death of a Christian missionary been regretted in India by men of so many different races, classes and positions; and certainly no other missionary has been so honoured in his death by the ruling powers. Rajah Serfojee, who had hastened to the deathbed of his revered guardian and had followed his remains to the grave—a most unusual step for a high caste Hindu to take—procured, later from England, for erection in the mission church, a monument in marble on which Flaxman, the eminent sculptor, carved a touching group representing the death of the old missionary. Round the dying saint are gathered his colleague Guericke, some native Christians with their children and the Rajah himself. 'A simple, natural and affecting scene,' said Dr. Duff, fifty years later when deeply moved he gazed upon it, 'and the group who compose it possess an interest to the Christian mind beyond what mere words can express.' A yet further tribute was paid by the Rajah, who himself composed the epitaph engraved on the

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stone in the church, beneath which rest the mortal remains of the beloved and honoured dead. The lines lack, no doubt, in poetic merit, but that is more than atoned for by the uniqueness of the authorship and the affectionate appreciation of the departed which breath in every word: 'Firm was thou, humble and wise, Honest, pure, free from disguise, Father of orphans, the widows' support, Comfort in sorrow of every sort; To the benighted, dispenser of light, Doing and pointing to, that which right: Blessing to friends, to people, to me, May I, my Father, be worthy of thee, Wisheth and prayeth thy Sarabojee.' " It is considered regrettable by some that Schwartz did not convert the prince. But it shows the liberal views Schwartz held on formal conversion. Though the young Rajah did not become a formal convert, his life and outlook under Schwartz's guidance had become definitely Christian. After Schwartz, no great missionary worked in the Tranquebar Mision. Kiernander, one of the Tranquebar missionaries, went to Bengal at the invitation of Clive, but he was not comparable to Ziegenbalg or Schwartz. He was wealthy, having married a rich widow, and out of his own private funds he built a church in Calcutta at the expense of Rs. 70,000. But his missionary activities were mainly confined to teaching Protestantism to the Roman Catholics of Bengal. The indifference of the English in Calcutta and his own want of resourcefulness impoverished him, and the Sheriff of Calcutta laid hold of his church which was appraised at a value of Rs. 10,000. The charity of some well-meaning Englishmen just saved the church. After Schwartz the decay of the Tranquebar Mission set in. The help from home became scant, missionaries with the necessary zeal and skill for organizing were few, and old Hinduism took back

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her prodigals. During the heyday of the Mission tinder Schwartz, it had a congregation of 20,000 souls which soon after Schwartz's death dwindled into an insignificant community of 5,000 Christians scattered in Tranquebar, Trichinopoly, Madras, Cuddalore and Tinnevelly. WILLIAM CAREY AND THE SERAMPORE MISSION The East India Company had officially banned missionary activities in the regions under its influence, but there were individuals in the service of the Company who wished to propagate the Gospel in India. One such individual was Dr. John Thomas, the Company's surgeon in Calcutta. Of Dr. Thomas' skill as a surgeon we know very little, but of his missionary activities we have some account. He was a peculiar individual whose life was marked by periodical outbursts of missionary zeal relieved by intense commercial speculation. He had active supporters in his missionary work of whom Charles Grant who was later to become the Chairman of the Court of Directors of the East India Company was one. Mr. Grant entrusted Dr. Thomas with some money for promoting Gospel work but the Doctor invested it in some commercial enterprise and this was all that was known of this fund. Dr. Thomas made some effort to retrieve his lost ground in commerce by borrowing lavishly and speculating heavily. For the satisfaction of his creditors and patrons he translated some portions of the New Testament in a language which he claimed to be Bengali. But neither the creditors nor the patrons were satisfied. The latter stopped their contributions and the former threatened legal action. This shook the Doctor's faith in his countrymen in India and confirmed his conviction that his genius would be appreciated only at home. Accordingly he sailed for England, but the people at home proved no better. He was heavily involved in debts at home and became anxious to return to Malda, his mission field, but had not enough money for the passage. In this predicament his thoughts turned to God.

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This was the time when William Carey, a cobbler in an insignificant village in Northamptonshire, had left cobbling and turned his thoughts to strange lands that had not heard the name of Christ. His first attempts at interesting the English public in Gospel work were disappointing. As mentioned elsewhere, Mr. Ryland thought the work of conversion of the heathen was God's and not of Englishmen. Carey, however, did not give up hope. He persisted and some Englishmen of note were converted to his way of thinking and the Baptist Missionary Society was formed in 1792, with Mr. Fuller as the secretary. The Society had not much funds to start with. But Carey was willing to undertake mission work anywhere in the world without funds from the Society. He had no funds of his own either, but had an indomitable will and an infinite faith in Christ. The only decision he had to make was about the field of his mission. Dr. Thomas now came to his aid. He described to Carey in vivid detail the condition of India and the extreme need of the country, and the Doctor's passionate pleadings had the desired effect and Carey decided to go to India with Dr. Thomas. Carey and his family consisting of his wife, sister and five children with Dr. Thomas and his wife had hardly boarded a ship bound for India when the Doctor's creditors appeared on the scene. Suspecting that he was trying to escape, they threatened to inform against the captain of the ship for taking missionaries to India without licence; the punishment for such an offence was severe at the time and Carey and his party were promptly ejected out of the ship. Before, however, Dr. Thomas' creditors could give effect to the writ for his arrest which they had obtained, the missionaries managed to board a Danish ship, and sailed away to India. Carey and his ill-assorted company landed in Calcutta on November loth, 1793. They had serious apprehensions about the kind of reception they were to meet with because of the absence of licences, but were considerably relieved to find that Calcutta was too busy with its own affairs to take any notice of the miserable party.

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No man had ever embarked upon an evangelical mission to India so poorly equipped and badly handicapped as Carey. Xavier and Ziegenbalg had the support of royalty. The Jesuits, the Franciscans and Augustinians had the powerful backing of their organizations, and in some cases of civil authorities; further, they were all unmarried people free to go where the spirit moved them. But poor Carey had little money and a large family and the Baptist Mission itself was financially hard up at the time. At the suggestion of Dr. Thomas, Carey had, however, brought some merchandise with him which he hoped to sell at a profit in India to equip himself with the necessary funds for the prosecution of his plans. Dr. Thomas had charge of these goods; he sold the goods as soon as he landed in Calcutta but got no money out of it. And Carey and his family were reduced to starvation. He would have received some money from his countrymen, for Calcutta with all its faults was not completely devoid of earnest and helpful Englishmen; but Carey's association with the notorious pauper of Malda closed the door of every decent Englishman against him. Carey and his family were stranded in Calcutta but a well-to-do Hindu gentleman took pity on them and gave them shelter. Unable to do anything in Calcutta where the English lived in luxury and the missionary as a beggar, Carey migrated to the Sunderbans, notorious for its wild beasts and pestilential climate. Here he lived by hunting wild game, obviously a mad thing for an Englishman to do at the time. Whenever Carey got a chance he preached to the farmers and to his fellow huntsmen. The reproach of his wife and sister who had, from the very beginning, discouraged him in his wild missionary enterprise and had come with him almost under compulsion, became unbearable and poor Carey's life in the Sunderbans became a veritable hell on earth. And then Dr. Thomas proved his mettle. He had one friend left in the world in a Mr. Udny, a sincere Christian in the employ of the East India Company. Mr. Udny had just established an indigo factory in the Malda district where Dr. Thomas was supposed to be doing missionary work, and learning from the Doctor the plight of Carey offered him the post of manager of the factory,

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on a salary of Rs.20O a month, a princely sum to the impoverished Carey; more than this, Mr. Udny was a missionary at heart and he gave Carey full permission to preach and convert. Without impairing his efficiency as manager of the indigo factory, Carey did a good deal of missionary work and studied Bengali and the literature of the Hindus. In 1799 Mr. Udny sold his factory, but Carey had by then saved, enough to buy a factory of his own at Kidderpore, not far away, and from the profits of this business hoped to build a sound missionary base at Malda. The business prospered and Carey was able to report to his headquarters that he had started making progress and he asked for some workers from England. The missionary spirit was by now kindled in England and four Englishmen responded to Carey's call. They sailed from England in an American ship but as the ship arrived in the Hoogly, Calcutta took alarm and refused permission for the missionaries to land. This eventuality was not altogether unforeseen and the missionaries hired a boat and slipped off to the Danish settlement of Serampore close by. But the presence of these four desperate men so near Calcutta only increased the suspicion of the authorities, and Lord Wellesly, the then Governor-General, demanded the surrender of the fugitives in order to deport them to England. But Col. Bie, the Danish Governor of Serampore, had been a close friend of Schwartz and thought there was some good in missionary work and refused to surrender the missionaries. Wellesly, though he had to take some notice of the popular objection to missionaries in his official capacity, probably held the same personal views as Col. Bie and let the matter drop. The difficulty of the four workers reaching Malda becoming plain to Carey, he decided to transfer his missionary activities to Serampore. The hostility of the British authorities to organized mission work and the patronage accorded by the Danes also influenced the decision. Accordingly Carey migrated to Serampore and joined the four. Of these, Grant and Brunsdon succumbed to the climate before realizing their ambition. With the remaining two, William Ward and Joshua Marshman, Carey built up the

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famous Seramporc^Mission which has done such splendid work in India. Printing had now been discovered and afforded scope for a wide dissemination of knowledge and the missionaries took full advantage of it. Indian languages were studied in feverish haste and the translation of the Bible in the principal languages was undertaken. Carey was a gifted linguist and as soon as he translated the Bible Ward, who was a professional printer, printed them. The Serampore pioneers translated the Bible into thirty-six languages the principal being Hindi, Marathi, Sanskrit, Gujerati, Ooriya, Telegu, Canarese and Malayalam. They tried a hand at Chinese and Burmese too. The excessive enthusiasm and speed did affect the quality of the Translations, but all were readable and this was the main aim of the missionaries. The converts, however, were not many. Carey laboured in India for seven years without making a single convert. In the year 1800 the first conversion took place. The neophyte was a carpenter, Krishna Chandra Pal by name, who happened to dislocate an arm in an accident and come to Dr. Thomas for treatment. There was great rejoicing all over the mission field on the occasion of his baptism. Dr. Thomas went literally mad with joy. He started raving and had to be kept in confinement. The Serampore missionaries were the pioneers in the field of education in India. Most of the social evils of the country, the missionaries rightly concluded, were the result of ignorance or improper education. Hence they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to the dissemination of knowledge in general and Christian knowledge in particular. The ban on missions was removed in 1814 and the activities of the Serampore mission spread to wider fields. The main centres were Bengal, Burma, Orissa, Bhutan and Hindustan proper, these five centres constituting what was known as the 'United Missions of India*. The ministers in 1817 numbered thirty of whom eighteen were Europeans and twelve Indians. "By the year 1818 the mission possessed 126 vernacular schools with 10,000 pupils, all receiving elementary education and also simple continuous instruction in

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the Christian religion!" Carey's educational activities were not confined to elementary schools. In 1821 was established the famous Serampore College for the study of English and Oriental classics. Science, History, Philosophy and Medicine were later on added and the College was raised to the rank of a University. Carey was a protagonist of instruction in Indian languages. Later, Alexander Duffin his college introduced English as the medium of instruction and brought about a revolutionary change in the educational system in India which had far reaching consequences in the matter of spreading Western religious and political ideas in the East. The success of the Serampore Mission was in no small measure due to its financial soundness. Although Carey started as a pauper, on his death on June pth, 1834, the Serampore Mission was the wealthiest of such organisations in India. For this Carey's forethought and introduction of new methods in the daily life of the missionaries were solely responsible. The Serampore missionaries lived on the lines of the Moravian brotherhood, forming a community of their own with a common kitchen and common fund each bringing to the mission what he got and receiving what he needed. According to Carey self reliance was the prime virtue of the missionary and a missionary should live by his own labour and not be thrown on the charity of either his patrons or his congregation. Soon after coming to Serampore, Carey started a boarding school for European children and it proved so popular that the annual profits from this enterprise alone ran into more than ^1,000. This amount was further augmented by the salary of ^1,000 Carey received for taking up the professorship of Bengali in the new College Wellesly had started in Calcutta for instructing young Englishmen who sought service under the widely expanding East India Company. The common kitchen and the communistic way of life saved many unnecessary items of expenditure and left the mission with a handsome balance for God's work. This, apart from the zeal of the missionaries, was mainly responsible for the long life and continued prosperity of the mission.

CHAPTER X CRUSADE ON THE NABOABS WE have seen in a previous chapter that the English had successfully challenged the supremacy of the Portuguese on the Indian seas and obtained trading settlements in all the important ports of India. These settlements attracted a good many English and other adventurers whose want of religious zeal did not impair their efficiency as traders. Profit was the god of the English settlers of the time and they flourished by the worship of Mammon. They were not concerned about conversions. Some conversions were, however, reported. For instance a son of Sir Heneage Finch, who had been Attorney-General and Lord Keeper in the reign of James II, was irresistibly attracted to Islam and embraced this religion in Bombay. "The grief occasioned by the fall of this misguided young gentleman was nothing in comparison with that resulting from the occasional apostasy of some of our people who were attracted by the conveniences and enticements of the Muhammadan religion. One example of this may be especially noted. In 1691 a man rejoicing in a name which afterwards grew into better odour, vexed the spirits of the factors at Surat by openly embracing Muhammadanism." Again, "there is one of our wicked Englishmen, by name John Newton, that came out in the Royal James and Mary, and came from Umboor yesterday, and went immediately to the Cossys and declared his intention to turn Moor, and before we possibly could have an opportunity to send to the Governor, the business was done and he circumcised, which was past our remedy of our retrieving his wicked soul." The English elsewhere were little better. Of Job Charnock, a notable servant of the Company in Chuttanutty (old name for Calcutta) who died in the last decade of the iyth century, it is written that he married a Hindu lady and "instead of converting 168

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her to Christianity she made him a proselyte to Paganism; and the only part of Christianity that was remarkable in him was burying her decently and he built a tomb over her, where all his life after her death he kept the anniversary day of her death by sacrificing a cock on her tomb after the heathen fashion." Some religious activity was reported from Bengal too. Sir John Gouldsborough was grieved to note the hold Roman Catholics had got over the Christians of Chuttanutty and took vigorous measures to combat it. In his own words, "I turned their priests from hence, and their mass-house was to be pulled down to make way for the factorie, when it shall be thought convenient to build it; and I disbanded all black Christian soldiers and lowered their wages from five to four rupees a month and made them entreat to be received again so." It is, however, some comfort to note that the murderous quarrels between Catholics and Protestants that shook Europe at the time were, in India, confined to such isolated instances and did not break out into open hostility. Though the English settlers of the time generally held Indians in contempt, some of the Indian customs were considered worthy of emulation. Concubinage was one of them. The Harem became fashionable among the 'Naboabs', and some of them at least as a mark of honour to a distinguished guest sent out troops of slave girls and dancers to receive them at the gate. While the concubinage that was common among European settlers can rightly be attributed to the dearth of European women in India, the Harem life can be excused on no grounds whatsoever. The East India Company did make an effort to equalize the male and female population of their settlement in Calcutta. For complaints reaching the authorities of the profligacy and concubinage in the settlement, the Company took upon itself the task of supplying women to their servants. A shipload of European women were landed in Calcutta to the delight of the settlers. But the demand proved so far in excess of the supply that the gay ladies, following strict economic laws, took to prostitution as more profitable and pleasant than marriage. They were so prodigal of their charms and lightly-earned money that most of them soon lost their

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attractions and had to ask the Company for maintenance. After this bitter experience, the Company left their servants to find women for themselves. Complaints about the Godless life of the English in India became too numerous to be overlooked by the management of the East India Company at home and the need for Christian ministers was pressed home by well-meaning members of the Company's staff. From Bombay went a request to the Governors of the Company to supply them with two good ministers together with 'a little good English beer, called stout; and a little wine/ The demand for the ministers was probably an indication of a guarantee that the beer and the wine would be sparingly used. Anyway, the new charter granted to the second East India Company had a clause in it which compelled every garrison and important factory to maintain a minister. The minister had an obligation to learn Portuguese, the then lingua franca of the coastal regions of India, and the necessary Indian language for the instruction of the Indian Christian population of the settlement. But far from improving the standard of the European settlements, the ministers seem to have fallen into line with the ways of the settlers. We know very little about the religious activities of these early Christian ministers, and their spiritual gains were negligible. It was otherwise with their material gains. "From an entry in Kiernander's journal we learn that Mr. Blanshard, who was chaplain on the establishment during the administration of Warren Hastings and Lord Cornwallis, carried to England, after a service of little more than two years, a fortune of ^"50,000. Another chaplain, Mr. Johnson, after 13 year's service took with him from Calcutta ^35,000; and Mr. Owen, after ten years' service, ^25,000. Unless they performed a vast number more burial and baptismal services, and married more Christian couples than there is any good reason to believe and unless the fees received for such offices were exorbitantly high, it is not clear how such fortunes could have been accumulated from the ordinary wages of clerical labour. A slight suspicion of profitable

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trade must therefore disturb the reflection even of the most charitable." All the chaplains of the Company were not, however, of :this type. There were some who had a keen sense of their duty and responsibility and did what they could to improve the lot of their countrymen and of Indians. Of such worthy ministers mention may be made of David Brown, Claudius Buchanan and Henry Martyn. These men were heavily handicapped, because of their official position, in their missionary activities, but they did good work among their own countrymen. Henry Martyn, the greatest of the Chaplains of the period, deserves some detailed mention. Martyn was a peculiar man with a Hebrew Prophet's horror of the wickedness of man. He was a brilliant scholar who had distinguished himself in St. John's College, Cambridge. His father's death turned his mind to spiritual matters. It was his intention to come to India as a missionary, the work of the Tranquebar pioneers having fired his imagination. But Martyn had considerable responsibilities and accepted the post of Chaplain to the Calcutta settlement which carried with it a salary of ^1,000. He set out to India on board the Union, on August 3ist, 1805. The experience on board the Union gave him an inkling of what was in store for him in Calcutta. "With him travelled H.M. 59th regiment, and officers and men alike reflected only too truly the callous, even hostile attitude to religion which Martyn was to face among his own countrymen in India. His mere presence on board their ship—the only chaplain in the whole fleet—was felt to be an infliction and the captain of the vessel shared the feeling. One service on Sundays, he was permitted to hold, but nothing more, and to show their contempt for him and his work, the officers, though not attending the service, would sit near at hand, smoking, drinking, talking and laughing while the service was proceeding." The soul of the sensitive young minister revolted and he bided his opportunity. And soon after landing in Calcutta, the opportunity presented itself. In his first sermon to the seasoned sinners of Calcutta he told them that but for the mercy of the ever-patient

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Saviour they would all have been now in a place quite different from the one the Son of Man had prepared for die righteous. "Tremble ye," he thundered, "at your state, all ye that from selfrighteousness or pride or unwillingness to follow Him in the regeneration disregard Christ! Nothing keeps you one moment from perdition but the sovereign pleasure of God. Yet suppose not that we take pleasure in contradicting your jiatural sentiments on religion, or in giving pain by forcing offensive truth upon your attention—no! as the ministers of joy and peace we rise up at the command of God, to preach Christ crucified to you all!" And many did tremble, for the passionate sincerity of the young zealot and his force of expression were irresistible. Martyn, very often after his sermons repaired to his private apartment to weep over the sins of his countrymen and beg the Almighty pardon for the failings of his brethren. Martyn was an impetuous zealot. He was impatient of the weaknesses of men. The foul atmosphere of this sinful world choked him. His countrymen in India were bad enough, but the Indians were worse. The idols struck him with horror. The iniquities of caste appalled him. One day he saw a widow being conducted to her husband's funeral pyre, and the frail man rushed to save her but before he reached the spot the flames consumed her. His dread of the Hindu temple was truly Hebraic. On visiting one he wrote: "I shivered at being in the neighbourhood of hell; my heart was ready to burst at the dreadful state to which the devil had brought my poor fellow creatures. I would have given the world to have known the language and to have preached to them." He was like a man in a hurry who thought one life too short for the great work he had to do. He worked day and night and crowded into six years of active life the labours of a lifetime. He studied Hindustani with enthusiasm and as soon as he gained some knowledge of it preached to the Hindus. But the Hindus did not show an over-enthusiasm to accept Christianity. As his superficial knowledge of the Hindus and their way of life increased, he abandoned them as a people lost beyond redemption. "Truly, if ever I see a Hindu a real believer in Jesus, I shall see

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something more nearly approaching the resurrection of a dead body than anything I have ever seen." From Calcutta Martyn was sent to Dinapore, but the people he met here were no better than those of Calcutta. His fame had probably preceded him and the sinners of Dinapore avoided him like the plague. The dread of the minister was universal. "A more wicked set of men were, I suppose, never seen;" he wrote to Corrie his friend in Calcutta. Martyn did not spare even the sick. "At the hospital when I visit, some go to a corner and invoke blasphemies upon me because, as they now believe, the man I speak to dies of a certainty." It was impossible for Martyn to understand the Hindus. Their religion and way of life were so strange that he found it difficult to reconcile them with his notions of a civilized community. But the Muslims, he thought, were better. He had a good knowledge of the background of their religion, and he now diverted his attention to the study of Arabic and Persian in addition to that of Hindustani of which he had already gained a working knowledge. His intention was not only to preach in but to translate the Bible into these languages. With the help of able Indian assistants, he undertook the work of translation and the progress in Hindustani and Persian was smooth; but the same was not the case with the Arabic branch. In this work he was assisted by Sabat, a half converted Arab, fierce and self complacent, who had a very high opinion of his literary accomplishments. Sabat gave a good deal of trouble to the English enthusiast; he did not have a very high opinion of Martyn's Arabic and between the two the work of translation suffered badly. An entry in Martyn's journal shows his tribulation in respect of Sabat: "Sabat had been tolerably quiet this week; but think of the keeper of a lunatic and you see me. A war of words broke out the beginning of last week, but it ended in an honourable peace. After he got home at night he sent a letter, complaining of a high crime and misdemeanour in some servant; I sent him a soothing letter and the wild beast fell asleep."

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By working day and night during his ministry in Kanpur, Dinapore, and Berhampore, Henry Martyn at last realized his cherished ambition of translating the New Testament into the three main Muslim languages of Asia. He had also kept touch with the Serampore translators. Martyn's translations were not, however, received with universal applause. Sabat not only claimed unquestionable proficiency in Arabic but thought himself competent to handle the Persian translation and form an opinion of the Hindustani work. He declared Martyn's Hindustani to be vulgar and the critics at Calcutta and Serampore considered the Persian and Arabic too high flown to be understood by general readers. Martyn appreciated the criticism of the Persian and Arabic works as he had his own doubts about them, though constantly harassed by Sabat he had surrendered his common sense to the vanity of the Arab. Anyway, to retrieve the situation the only thing Martyn could think of was to render the Persian translation in Persia and the Arabic in Arabia. With this end in view he left India for Persia on January yth, 1811. He finished his Persian work but was prevented from undertaking the journey to Arabia by ill health. In order to regain his health he wished to go home, and set out for England by way of Constantinople. He took seriously ill in a little village near Tokat, and in October 1812 (the exact date is not known) died at the early age of 31 and was buried in the Armenian churchyard of Tokat. The last entry in his diary is dated October 6th, 1812 and reads as follows: "No horses to be had, I had an unexpected repose. I sat in the orchard and thought with sweet comfort and peace of my God, in solitude my Company, my Friend and Comforter. Oh, when shall time give place to eternity! When shall appear that new heaven and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness! There, there shall in no wise enter anything that defileth: none of that wickedness which has made men worse than wild beasts, none of those corruptions which add still more to the miseries of mortality shall be seen or heard of any more." Henry Martyn is not to be judged by the number of converts

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he made; these were not more than five during the six years of his ministry in India. He must be judged by his abounding zeal for Gospel work and righteous living which inspired many of his countrymen in England and India. Martyn and other chaplains of his way of thinking were considerably handicapped in Gospel work by their official position as the paid men of the Company. The civil authorities rigidly enforced the missionary clause of their 1793 Charter throughout their dominions and the chaplains were debarred from embarking upon any missionary activities but had to confine themselves strictly to their official duties. That the Christian English should ban the spread of the Gospel in their territories could only be attributed by missionaries and their partisans to the perversity of the Directors of the Company and their employees. That these gentlemen were more concerned with the spread of their power in the East than that of the Gospel is no doubt true. But we must pause in our judgement when we consider the fact that even men of the calibre of Lord Cornwallis subscribed to these views, and enforced the instructions of the Board of Directors. There were both in India and England responsible officials of the Company, very good Christians, who recognized the need for exercising extreme caution in the matter of letting the missionaries run wild in their dominions. The territorial acquisitions of the Company were rapidly increasing and the Directors of the Company very naturally considered it their prime duty to consolidate and hold these possessions. British statesmen knew that it was impossible to hold a vast country like India by a few British soldiers. The mainstay of British power in India then as in later years was the indigenous army; and this army was at the time constituted mainly of Hindus and Muslims who found in the growing power of the British some security of person and property and a desirable salary. It was of the utmost importance that the loyalty of the Indian Army should in no way be jeopardized. Most of the European missionaries of the time were inclined to treat the Hindus as an abandoned race of barbarians little better than the cannibals of Africa; we have already noticed Henry

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Martyn's opinion of the Hindus. Of the mission of Muhammad too they had fixed notions. The English civilians who brought an open mind and studied the religion and literature of the Hindus found, on the other hand, that though their practices were not at their best at the time, the Hindus were heirs to an ancient civilisation of much spiritual value. They realized, above all, that both the Hindu and Muslim were passionately attached to their religions, and those who belittled their beliefs were not likely to be viewed with favour or treated as their saviours. The state aid the Portuguese extended to missionary work in India often led to abuses and forcible conversions, and this was one of the reasons why the Portuguese came to be hated by Indians, and the experience of the Portuguese was fresh in the minds of the early British. Considering all these, the Parliament had given full powers, in the Charter of 1793, to the East India Company to regulate the migration of Englishmen to India and refuse licence to persons who, by their religious or other activities were likely to create trouble for the Company. The result of this privilege was that while common rogues easily got licence to migrate to India, the preachers of the Gospel were all refused licences. As long as Englishmen at home remained indifferent to missionary activities, the ban on missionaries did not seriously inconvenience anybody. But the later half of the eighteenth century was marked by considerable religious activity in the United Kingdom. The inevitable reaction to the licence of the Restoration set in and people began to feel that life had a higher aim than eating, drinking and love-making. The official church was established on a sound footing, and the travels of Englishmen in many lands brought home to die English the need for propagating the Gospel among strange people inhabiting distant lands. Several societies were now formed for spreading the Gospel, and individuals began to burn with missionary zeal. The Baptist Missionary Society was formed in 1792; the London Mission in 1795, and the Church Missionary Society in 1799. And then the ardent missionaries woke up to the fact that

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missionary activities were banned in countries ruled by Englishmen who professed to be Christians! It is but natural that these zealous pioneers should have thought it preposterous that when non-Christian rulers in Asia often gave the missionary permission to preach the Gospel in their kingdoms the Christian British should deny this elementary human right to the missionary. Not only preaching but even the very presence of the missionary was obnoxious to the Englishman in India. This had to be fought out, and in the beginning of the nineteenth century war was declared on the Naboab by the missionaries. They fought their case in the pulpit, in the press and in the Parliament. Pamphlet after pamphlet issued forth from the press describing in vivid detail the Godless life of Anglo-Indians; how they had converted India into a profligate's Paradise, how they were actively aiding Paganism for profit and how they were serving as bodyguards to the idols. The Naboab was painted in lurid colours, and strange tales of his extortions, of his harem life, of his power of communicating with the devil and of weird midnight mysteries in his lonesome house got wide circulation. And honest Englishmen were warned that if the power of the Naboab was not checked in time and he himself reclaimed from the devil, they could very well look forward to an England in the near future completely paganised. The Naboabs took up the challenge. They maintained that the missionaries' raillery was born out of ignorance of India and her people. As very often happens in such heated controversies, the real intentions of the parties were lost in a maze of evidence factual and fabricated, and in wild exaggerations that clouded the main issue. The Naboabs maintained that while England had a divinely appointed right to India and her trade, she had no responsibility to convert the Indians. A Mr. Twining, who had considerable interest in the tea trade, addressed a lengthy letter to the Chairman of the East India Company in which he vigorously attacked the missionaries and their propaganda. Of this letter a missionary wrote that "no such letter was ever before written in a Christian country, under a Christian king by a man

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professed to be a Christian". That Mr. Twining was inspired not merely by a fear of the threat to his tea trade but a real sense of danger to his life is evident from the tone of the letter. The originators of the Church Mission Society and the Chairman of the East India Company were in England, but Mr. Twining had to live the major part of his life in India and he had, he said, a right to say what he thought of Christian missions to India. The concluding paragraph of his letter, reproduced below, shows him up as a man who had no desire to court martyrdom for the sake of his religion: "As long as we-continue to govern India in the mild, tolerant spirit of Christianity, we may govern it with ease; but if ever the fatal day should arrive, when religious innovation shall set her foot in that country, indignation will spread from one end of Hindustan to the other, and the arms of fifty millions of people will drive us from that portion of the globe, with as much ease as the sand of the desert is scattered by the wind. But I still hope, Sir, that a perseverance in the indiscreet measures I have described, will not be allowed to expose our countrymen in India to the horrors of that dreadful day: but that our native subjects in every part of the East will be permitted quietly to follow their own religious opinions, their own religious prejudices and absurdities, until it shall please the Omnipotent Power of Heaven to lead them to the paths of light and truth." The letter of Mr. Twining, tea-dealer, stirred up a hornets' nest, and pamphlet after pamphlet poured forth from mission presses refuting his arguments. Another sensational letter on the lines of Twining's letter was published by Rev. Sydney Smith in the Edinburgh Review in 1808. The controversy raged with unabated fury and the climax was reached in 1813 when the question of renewing the Charter of the East India Company came up before the Parliament. The missionaries valiantly fought for the deletion of the obnoxious clause and substitution of a new one giving full permission to Evangelists of all denominations to preach the Gospel wherever they pleased in the Company's dominions. Both parties closed in for mortal combat by word

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of mouth, and speech after speech was made, and important witnesses examined. Claudius Buchanan's interesting report on the religions of India stirred many a zealot to denounce the Naboabs as a Godless set of reprobates and to call upon the Parliament to compel the East India Company to take some positive interest in the moral welfare of their subjects. To this Sir Henry Montgomery, who had lived long enough in India to know the Hindus, replied that Buchanan's account of the Hindus was "an imposition upon England and a libel upon India". He declared that Christianity had nothing to teach Hinduism, and no missionary ever made a really good Christian convert in India. He too, like the tea-dealer, had a sound respect for the martial powers of the Indian, and concluded that he "was more anxious to save the 30,000 of his countrymen in India than to save the souls of all the Hindus by making them Christians at so dreadful a price." The then recent Vellore Mutiny, though actually engendered by the descendants of Tippoo from political motives, was given a religious colour, and lent a sense of reality to Sir Henry's fear of the impending massacre of 30,000 Englishmen in India through the folly of the missionaries. Mr. Marsh, an able lawyer who had lived many years in Madras, asked the missionaries to learn at the feet of the Hindus instead of trying to teach them. In fact the picture he painted of the Hindus and their religion was one which the most enthusiastic Hindu would have loved to emulate: "Indeed, when I turn my eyes either to the present condition or ancient grandeur of that country; when I contemplate the magnificence of her structures, her spacious reservoirs, constructed at an immense expense, pouring fertility and plenty over the land, the monuments of a benevolence expanding its cares over remote ages; when I survey the solid and embellished architecture of her temples, the elaborate and exquisite skill of her manufactures and fabrics, her literature sacred and profane, her gaudy and enamelled poetry on which a wild and prodigal fancy has lavished all its opulence; when I turn to the philosophers, lawyers and moralists who have left the oracles of political and ethical wisdom

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to restrain the passions and to awe the vices which disturb the commonwealth; when I look at the peaceful and harmonious alliances of families, guarded and secured by the household virtues; when I see amongst a cheerful and well-ordered society, the benignant and softening influence of religion and morality, a system of manners founded on a mild and polished obeisance, and preserving the surface of social life smooth and unruffled —I cannot bear without surprise, mingled with horror, of sending out Baptists and Anabaptists to civilize or convert such a people at the hazard of disturbing or deforming institutions which appear to have hitherto been the means ordained by Providence of making them virtuous and happy." Wilberforce, Forbes, William Smith, Whitbread and a host of other speakers refuted the arguments of the eloquent Mr. Marsh, and painted the other side of the picture. Much was made of Sati, infanticide, idolatry, religious suicide, and the victims of Mother Ganges at Saugar. Descriptions of wild scenes at Jagannath during the pilgrim season were given in vivid detail, and the Baptists, corroborating Buchanan's account, put down the number of victims that perished annually at the shrine to not less than 120,000; when challenged they admitted that they did not actually count the dead bodies, but arrived at the figure by an ingenious calculation. To cut a long story short, in die wordy warfare the missionaries won and in the new Charter of 1814, not only were they given full liberty to spread Christian knowledge in India, but the Indian episcopal problem was also taken up and a Bishop was appointed who had his headquarters at Calcutta with jurisdiction over all the dominions of the East India Company. The long controversy and stiffopposition made the missionaries realize, if nothing else, the need for restraint and moderation in their activities. They were anxious to show that the Naboabs were wrong in supposing that the removal of the missionary clause would lead to the immediate massacre of 30,000 Englishmen in India. As a matter of fact, nothing happened. The missionaries went about their business quietly and the official visitations of the

7- St. Thomas Mount, Mylapore Traditional site of the Apostle's Martyrdom (Photo : Mount Photo House, Madras)

The Palace of Begum Samru, at present St. John's College, Sardhana (Courtesy : Rev. Mark, Sardhana)

9. St. Thomas Cathedral, Mylapore

10. Christian Medical College Hospital, Vellore Popularly known as the American Hospital, this is one of the best hospitals in India

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first two Bishops, Middleton and Heber, excited nothing more murderous than a mild curiosity on the part of Indians in the picturesque costumes of Anglican Bishops. The removal of the missionary clause from the charter was but the first round in the fight between the missionary and the Naboab. ^ith the removal of the ban, several missions started their activities in India, and they began to study carefully the relationship between Hinduism and the East India Company. The Company, as the ruling power, had taken over some of the responsibilities of their Hindu predecessors which included protection of temples and their vast property and control of pilgrims to the great Hindu shrines. The pilgrim taxes yielded a handsome revenue to the government, and in return the officers of the government had to supervise the activities of the temple, regulate traffic and generally behave in a way that suggested active government support to idolatry. As the natural patron of the temples, the Company had other duties as well which in the case of the larger and more important temples took the form of directly or indirectly supervising the temple establishment, appointing trustees when disputes arose, carrying out repairs to temples that had fallen into ruins, etc. In short, according to the missionaries, the Company "took upon itself the office of dry nurse to Vishnu Nor was it merely in the administration of the revenue of idolatry and the superintendence of its establishments that our tender regard for the heathenism of the people evinced itself. We made much open display of our reverence for their institutions by attendance at their festivals; turning out our troops to give additional effect to the show; firing salutes in honour of their highdays and holidays; and sanctioning, nay promoting, the prayers, and invocations of the Brahmins to propitiate the deity for a good harvest or a good trade." When the affairs of a temple fell into a bad way due to the mis-management or rapacity of the trustees, the Company took over the management and applying British efficiency in the administration of revenue and expenses, put the temple on a

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sound financial basis. The Naboabs were neither Hindus nor Christians, nor even Muslims as the name seems to suggest, but ardent students of politics and commerce and were, by these means, merely courting the goodwill of their Hindu subjects and soldiers. The missionaries very naturally objected to these activities. They did not, of course, want the East India Company to destroy the Hindu temples as some of the early Muslims and Portuguese did; but they expected that when the affairs of a temple fell in a bad way the British should, as good Christians, take a secret pleasure and leave it to die a natural death. The missionaries were thoroughly dissatisfied with the attitude of the Company towards idolatry, and in a memorial they submitted to the Government of Bombay in 1837, some of the anti-Christian practices of the Company pointed out were: "i. The employment of Brahmins and others for the purpose of making heathen invocations for rain and fair weather. 2. The inscription of'Sri' on public documents, and the dedication of Government records to Ganesh and other gods. 3. The entertainment in courts of justice of questions of a purely idolatrous nature with no civil rights involved. 4. The degradation of certain castes by excluding them from particular offices and benefits not connected with religion. 5. The attendance of Government servants, civil and military, in their official capacity at Hindu and Muslim festivals, with a view to participate in their rites and ceremonies or in the joining of troops and the use of regimental bands in the processions of Hindu and Muslim festivals or their attendance in any other capacity than that of police for the preservation of peace. 6. The firing of salutes by the troops or by vessels of the Indian Navy, in intimation and honour of Hindu festivals." The Christian Knowledge Society was particularly vehement in its denunciation of the Company's connection with idolatry,

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but when the question of the Pilgrim Tax came up, the members of the Society found themselves on the horns of a dilemma. The tax yielded considerable revenue to the Company and good Christians thought it ill-gotten wealth. On the other hand, the removal of the tax was likely to encourage pilgrimage as this activity would then become less expensive by comparison. The Muslims had, in fact, imposed it as a deterrent to Hindu pilgrimage, but the collections were found so substantial that even Hindu kings introduced it and the East India Company continued the practice. The missionaries, however, after much deliberation decided in favour of its removal. As a result of petitions from responsible individuals and organisations and continued agitation in England, the Court of Directors under the influence of Charles Grant issued instructions to the authorities in India for the complete severance of Government connection from the religious activities of their subjects. The local authorities were given discretionary powers in giving effect to the directions of the Court, and most of them used these powers with much wisdom. A few disregarding the orders completely, complaints reached the highest quarters and the Parliament had to interfere. On the whole the directions were given effect to in the spirit if not to the letter. The salute to the gods was stopped; pilgrim taxes were abolished; the superintendence of religious festivals by the officials of the Company ceased and their function was confined to policing of the vast gatherings; temple lands were made over to Trusts and the Trustees were elected either by the congregation or nominated by British authorities from among respectable Hindus. Thus a good deal of neutrality was obtained. All told, the East India Company and the missionaries exercised a wholesome check on each other which helped the smooth progress of both Christianity and British rule in India. Pious Christians, however, often took offence at perfectly innocent happenings. For instance, the casual mention in a court of law by a lawyer that Bishop Middleton had attended a Nautch in the Government House at Calcutta created quite a sensation in

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England. The worthy Bishop emphatically denied the allegation but vaguely referred to an invitation he had received from the Governor-General to attend a party; he did not attend the party, he stated, but the ladies of his household did. It was now up to the Governor-General to say what happened further. Lord Hastings in a letter to the Lord Chancellor admitted there was a party at the Government House and the ladies of the Bishop's House attended it. There was, however, no Nautch. A woman sang, he confessed, but she did not dance—"the mere movement of her feet, while she was singing, not deserving the name." This amusing incident throws much light on the state of society at the time. The days of Clive and Warren Hastings were gone for good. The very fact that the ladies of the Bishop's House attended the party shows that Government House parties had definitely risen in standard. There was probably some Indian music which wagging tongues exaggerated into a Nautch; a Nautch at that time meant a good many dancing girls and more drunkards. Anyway the incident shows the watchful eye good Christians kept on Anglo-Indians and their activities.

CHAPTER XI PROGRESS OF CHRISTIANITY UNDER THE BRITISH THE East India Company, started in 1600, had, by the middle of the 18th century, become the dominant political power in India. The historic battle of Plassey in which Clive defeated the Nawab of Bengal opened for the British the way to the plains of Hindustan. The anarchical conditions then prevailing in northern India made advance easy and by the end of the eighteenth century they were the virtual rulers of India, and it was plain to the discerning that the fall of the few independent kingdoms would be a matter of decades. In 1849 the Punjab, the most powerful of the independent kingdoms fell, and the turbulent Sikhs acknowledged the suzerainty of the British. From that time till August 15, 1947, the British were the rulers of India, the first Christian power to attain this distinguished position. Political suzerainty has obvious powers to enhance the spread of the religion of the rulers, and the gains to Christianity during the British period were the most remarkable. After the removal of the missionary clause, there was an influx of missionaries into India both from England and America. The severance of the Company's connection from Hinduism appears to have been followed by an active campaign by the servants of the Company to Christianize India, and an interference with Hinduism was reported. For in a despatch of the Court of Directors we find that strict instructions were issued to the GovernorGeneral to impress upon the servants of the Company the need for neutrality and non-interference. The nature and extent of the interference are not known in detail but if there was any, it was but short-lived and led to no serious consequences. While the early Catholic missions gave greater importance to formal conversion, the new Protestant missions were more concerned with the dissemination of Christian knowledge. Street 185

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preachings, circulation of the Bible and pamphlets and active humanitarian work among the needy were given greater importance in their programme than formal baptism. Some of the missions did splendid work among the aboriginals, and here mass conversions were frequent. The nineteenth century was marked by the arrival of the first batch of American missionaries. The American missions that have done splendid work in India had, like many another missionary enterprise, a very modest beginning. The American Protestants, like their brethren in Europe, were at first more concerned with organizing their own churches than mission work among nonChristians. The colonists were busy consolidating their own position and exploring the vast and unknown New Continent. Soon, however, the spirit that had moved England and Scotland to send out missions to the East spread to America too. "It was beside a haystack that the foreign missionary movement in America was born. In the year 1806 in Massachusetts a little group of students met under a cluster of trees near their college for their usual prayer meeting. An impending thunderstorm drove them to a safer place, and beside a haystack they began to speak about the subject that was absorbing more and more of their attention, the need for proclaiming the good news of the Lord Christ in the lands of the Orient. One of the students, Manuel Mills, made the proposal that they send the Gospel to Asia. 'We could do it if we would', he said. Sheltering from the storm they discussed the matter; as the sky began to clear, Mills said, 'Let us make it a subject of prayer under this haystack, while the dark clouds are going and the clear sky is coming'." America then, it must be remembered, was not the Dollar Land it is now, and to the early pioneers who needed on a modest estimate 60,000 dollars for their enterprise, the amount appeared almost impossible of realisation. They tried to interest rich Englishmen and the newly formed mission societies of England and Scotland, but while they proved very courteous sympathisers the zealots were given to understand that America had to support her own missionaries. After much propaganda among a sceptic

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population, the enthusiasts were, however, able to interest enough Americans to donate the amount. The first American Missionaries to arrive in India were Gordon Hall and Mr. and Mrs. Nott. They reached Calcutta in November 1812 when the ban on missionaries was still in force. With Hall and the Notts had come Mr. Rice and Mr. and Mrs. Judson, but these three on arrival in Calcutta broke off from the American Board and joined the Baptists of Serampore. Hall and the Notts were not allowed to land in Calcutta but were told that if they were wise they would sail for Mauritius like the Newells who had departed four days before their arrival. The missionaries refused to be wise. The authorities in Calcutta decided to deport them to England. Hall, however, came to know that Sir Evans Napean, the then Governor of Bombay, was a devout Christian favourably disposed towards mission work, and the missionaries managed to board a ship bound for Bombay and reach this port on February n, 1813. Sir Evans was, no doubt, a good Christian but he was an official of the East India Company and had to respect the Missionary Clause. Besides, information was received by him from Calcutta that the Americans were absconders. Hence the Bombay authorities asked the missionaries to sail for England by the next boat. Hall wrote a long letter to Sir Evans in which he politely pointed out that he had a duty towards God to preach the Gospel in India and gave more than a hint that he would not go to England unless removed to the ship by force. He also explained that he had moved authorities in England through the American Board for permission for the missionaries to stay in India, and a reply would be received soon. News of the declaration of war between Great Britain and America now reached India, and Sir Evans' position became difficult. While he was unhappily pondering over what to do with the missionaries, the latter secretly boarded a vessel bound, as they thought, for Ceylon. The ship was actually sailing to Quilon which they mistook for Ceylon and as they landed in Cochin on their way and were anxiously waiting for the departure of the

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boat from the port, a ship arrived from Bombay with a warrant for the arrest of the missionaries. The order was promptly executed and the missionaries were sent back to Bombay. Sir Evans had been considerably upset over the secret departure of the missionaries and it was his intention to send them to England. Hall, however, prevailed upon him to detain them at Bombay till the receipt of instructions from England. This was fortunate, for before long orders were received to allow the missionaries to stay in India. HaU did a good deal of street preaching and became a familiar figure in the streets of Bombay but was not very successful at making converts. He did much humanitarian work in the Province, and died of cholera in Nasik in the year 1826 while doing relief work during die epidemic. A great impetus to the spread of Christian knowledge wa$ given by the adoption of the English language as the medium of instruction in India. The pioneer in this move was the Scottish missionary Alexander Duff. He realized that Christian knowledge could not be effectively imparted to Indians without opening to them the treasures of Christian literature through the medium of the English language. As an experimental measure he started a course of instruction in English which proved exceedingly popular in Calcutta. This encouraged the British authorities to adopt a favourable view to the question of adopting English as the medium of instruction which had been broached by many responsible Indians and Englishmen. After much deliberation and a heated controversy the British, under the directions of Macaulay, decided to adopt English as the medium of instruction in India. By now the old prejudice against Christians had been sufficiently overcome to make the innovation acceptable to Indians. In fact, Indians like Raja Ram Mohan Roy actively agitated for adopting English against the protagonists of Sanskrit and other Indian languages. The following extract from a letter he wrote to Lord Amherst is of interest in this connection: "If it had been intended to keep the British nation in ignorance of real knowledge, the Baconian philosophy would not have been

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allowed to displace the system of Schoolmen, which was best calculated to perpetuate ignorance. In the same manner the Sanskrit system of education would be the best calculated to perpetuate ignorance if such had been the policy of the British legislature. But as the improvement of the native population is the object of the Government it will consequently promote a more liberal and enlightened policy of instruction." The British settlements that had by now sprung up all over India were quite different from the old settlements of the ports which had been dreaded by Indians as social plague spots. The Godless society which had earned for Christianity the name of 'devil religion' among Indians was replaced by a highly respectable society controlled by clergymen, honest and upright civilians, and the vigilant missionaries. That sound, healthy, liberal outlook which in the aggregate is known as the 'British character' had also been built up at home, and the men who filled responsible positions in India were highly respectable and fair-minded, and the British as a race began to be looked upon by Indians as a superior people. Their efficient system of administration, their way of life and worship attracted intelligent Hindus who began to ponder over what constituted their apparent superiority. In physique, Indians, especially the hardy races of the north, were not much inferior to the British; in intelligence the higher classes among the Hindus were equal if not superior; in numerical strength Indians were definitely superior. Then remained religion and social organisation. Some intelligent, bold Indians discarding their age old notions of self-importance began to take an active interest in their foreign masters and study the religion and social institutions of Europe. Curiosity was sufficiently roused to prompt the bolder individuals to challenge caste rules against undertaking sea-voyage and travel abroad to study the institutions of the West at first hand. The casteless society of Europe, their democratic institutions, monogamy, monotheism, the freedom of European women, and the general emancipation of the West from the superstitions and ignorance of the dark ages immensely impressed these inquirers.

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With knowledge came understanding, with understanding appreciation and with appreciation enthusiasm. The large number of Indians who received instruction in English got easy access to Western religious and political ideas and were greatly influenced by these. The indifferent language of the translations of the Bible had made them contemptible for the cultured, and the better class of Hindus seldom cared to read them. But their newly acquired ability to read the scripture in English made them ardent students of the Bible. The teachings of Christ, especially the Sermon on the Mount, struck Indians, always keen students of religion, as superb and they had no difficulty in accepting Jesus as one of the greatest of religious teachers. Whatever the objections Hindus or Muslims had to the way of life of some of the Christians, of Jesus all had the most profound respect. This admiration for Jesus and His teachings has continued to the present day and His name and gentle message has penetrated the remotest corners of India. The new ideas worked like magic, and the whole country began to vibrate with a fresh energy. The first reaction was of revolutionary zeal. A horror of caste and idolatry seized young India. Sati, religious suicide, cow worship, seclusion of women, etc. came up for severe criticism and young India decided to break away, once for all, from the old order. The reaction at times took a particularly violent turn. The revolt against the old order started from Bengal. Here the British had their headquarters and had their influence most effectively felt. The missionaries in Bengal, unlike their brethren in the South, were uncompromising opponents of caste and had repeatedly driven home to Indians the iniquity of this institution. Young Bengal, always emotional, registered its opposition to caste in a most determined manner. A band of revolutionaries who had listened to Corrie and Duff decided to put a speedy end to caste. They collected in the house of Babu Krishna Mohan Bannerjee, a Kulin Brahmin, and cooked and ate beef and shouted to all the neighbours what they had done. Not content with this they threw cooked and uncooked beef into the houses of respectable

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caste Hindus nearby and ran about the streets proclaiming that the best Brahmins of Calcutta had all lost caste. This method of emancipating India from the bonds of caste had the inevitable result. The whole of Calcutta rose in revolt and responsible social reformers declared that this was not at all what they had advocated. The missionaries also denounced the action. Krishna Mohan Bannerjee was not in his house when the incident took place but his absence did not save him. Orthodoxy punished him severely and he was hounded out of home and society and had to wander about till Duff gave him asylum. In Bombay the commotions were of a different type. Under John Wilson, George Bowen and others, educational activities were taken in hand by the missionaries and where years of street preaching yielded nothing, the English schools began to show astounding results. The earliest converts were some well-to-do Parsi young men and their baptism caused a sensation in the city, the whole community rising against the missionaries. The neophytes were persecuted, the case was taken to law courts and the whole city had to be guarded against riots. But with the determined stand of the neophytes and the missionaries, opposition died down. The next sensation in Bombay was created by the conversion of Narayan Sheshadari, a Brahmin who did splendid work in the mission field. Close on Sheshadari's baptism, his twelve-year-old brother Shripat declared his intention to become a Christian. Shripat caused much sorrow and heartache to many. The boy was a minor and he could not be baptized without his guardian's permission, and the missionaries asked him to wait. But the impatient lad, to break down opposition, ate forbidden food and thus voluntarily lost caste. This desperate method of wearing down opposition had unexpected results. A section of the Hindus maintained that the boy could be taken back to his caste after proper purification but the orthodox thought otherwise. Regardless of the opposition of the latter, a priest in the presence of certain witnesses took back the boy after performing certain purificatory ceremonies. Thereupon the orthodox excommuni-

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cated the priest and all those who took part in the proceedings. The offenders repented and after paying a severe penalty were taken back into the Hindu fold. These were not isolated instances. All over the country such happenings became frequent, and as time went on the incidents became too numerous to be taken notice o£ For the first time in the long history of India Christianity became a force to be counted with. It was no more the religion of the downtrodden and of outcasts but worthy of the attention of Brahmins and noblemen. The old prejudice against the Parangi was also gone. European Christians far from being contemptible began to be looked upon as worthy of imitation and it became fashionable among the English-educated higher classes of Indians to affect the customs, manners and dress of Englishmen. De Nobili's arguments were advanced in reverse by these emulators of Westernism. They maintained that Hindus could dress like Europeans, use knives and forks, sit on chairs and crop their hair short, and even eat any food in the company of any one without losing their religion. Nor was it the Hindu alone who was affected. Muslims, Parsis, Sikhs, in fact all races from the tribesmen on the frontier to the JKulins of Bengal began to feel the impact of Christianity. The Gospel also reached the kingdom of old Gundaphoros of Christian legend and the complacent missionaries began to dream great dreams about the whole sub-continent turning Christian. And then came the Mutiny. Both European and Indian Christians suffered heavily, especially in the north, and the British were well nigh driven out of India. Incidents of extreme cruelty and excesses were reported from both sides. But the Europeans were more impressed by the cruelty of Indians than of their own, and it was wondered by many men in England and Scotland how human beings could have perpetrated the reported brutalities. Bitter were the comments made on this most unfortunate incident in Indo-British history. The Naboabs attributed the mutiny to the activities of the missionaries which, they said, had alarmed the people, and pointed out that they and their forefathers had prophesied it. The missionaries, on the other

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hand, maintained that the catastrophe was a well-deserved visitation of God's wrath on the British for their criminal neglect of a people who had been placed by Him under their care; they had more than 100 years at their disposal, the missionaries pointed out, to make human beings of Indians if not Christians but they had not only wasted their opportunity but actively hindered all attempts of sincere Christians to Christianize India. And there the dispute stood. We need not go into details of this unhappy controversy. The real cause of the mutiny, as is now admitted by all, was political and not religious. The British had no greater right to rule India than the Moguls and the Maharathas to rule Great Britain, and Indians had made a desperate attempt to assert their natural right to rule or misrule themselves. Anyway, the mutiny was put down and the administration of India passed directly under the Crown and the Parliament, and Queen Victoria by her famous proclamation of 1858 ushered in a new era in the history of India. The mutiny did not cause any serious setback to the work of the missionaries. There was, it is true, some violence against the missionaries, churches and Christians in general, but this was the work of fanatical individuals and not of responsible leaders. In the benevolent and prosperous reign that followed, these unfortunate incidents were soon forgotten and forgiven. With the rapid spread of English education, the security of person and property the new era ensured, and the general favour and esteem the missionary enjoyed brought in a glorious period of Christian expansion in India. Throughout the length and breadth of the country churches, chapels and steeples began to appear and every city and town of importance could claim a respectable church and an indigenous congregation. All this, however, made mission work somewhat prosaic. The old pioneers had to often contend with hostile elements and work in unfamiliar ground. They had to study the languages of the country for several years before being able to make themselves understood to the people. The new missionary had none of these handicaps. The moment he set foot in India he could start

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work wherever he found himself, the advance of English education having given him this advantage. Though the old hazards were gone, India was still a vast land and its remote villages and hilly regions gave the missionary some sense of strangeness, and mission work was not altogether uninteresting. Nor was the element of persecution completely absent even after Queen Victoria's proclamation. In 1882 when Bombay, for instance, was invaded by the Salvation Army, there was considerable stir in the city and the civil authorities were greatly perturbed. News of the invasion reached India before the forces landed, and almost all Indian journals published the exciting news. Even the London Times expressed its apprehension. When the Army landed in Apollo Bunder every one, however, heaved a sigh of relief for it consisted of four soldiers only i.e. Major Tucker and two men and one woman under him. Soon the war on India began. A procession of war chariots was taken; the chariots were bullock carts and the battle cry was sounded by the cornet player, Lt. Norman. Now the sounding of this instrument was in defiance of a police ban and Norman was promptly arrested and removed to the police station. Next morning he was produced before the Magistrate and fined Rs.2O. The veto on music was resented by the Army as it was "a great handicap in a city where the bazaar noises were often deafening, and all religious and marriage ceremonies are accompanied with the beating of drums and clanging of cymbals." The personnel of the Army was strengthened by new arrivals from the Headquarters, and several of them were arrested for various offences connected with the Police Commissioner's inconvenient orders which seemed to retard the progress of the war. After a year of hostilities truce, however, was declared in 1883, the police and the Army accepting certain terms. The main idea of the Salvationists was to create some public interest in their activities and in this they were eminently successful. Where other missions came and went without any one knowing anything about them, the soldiers of the Salvation Army heralded their arrival by forcing the attention of all India by their novel methods of propaganda. The excellent

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humanitarian work the Army has since done to alleviate human suffering in India is too well known to be given in detail here. The missionaries were the pioneers in the field of women's emancipation in India. The condition of Hindu women during the middle ages was one of abject misery and dependence on man. Medieval Hindu law givers were quite definite on this point. A woman, according to them, was to be dependent upon her father in childhood, on her husband in youth and on her sons in old age. "A woman is never free." Agreeable to these notions everything had been done to curb her intellectually and physically. A respectable woman lived in seclusion and knowledge of letters was denied her. She was married in childhood and as a widow mounted the funeral pyre of her husband or suffered a worse fate.* With the arrival of the Muslims, the lot of Hindu women became even worse. It was in this atmosphere that the missionaries began to work for the education of girls. Initial difficulties were many, and the mission schools for girls were at first shunned by the respectable; only Indian Christian girls could be persuaded to attend them. With the increase in the European female population in India, their example and social standards gradually began to influence the better classes and tendencies set in which viewed female education with less hostility. The Parsis who were happily free from many prejudices of their Hindu and Muslim brethren were first attracted to the mission girls' schools. Soon the bolder spirits among the Hindus and Muslims followed suit. Pioneer work in the field of women's emancipation was done by Pandita Ramabai, a remarkable daughter of India. A short account of the life of this great Indian Christian lady would be of interest to the reader. Ramabai was born in 1853 in the forest of Gangamula. Her father Ananta Sastri, was a wandering pilgrim and Rama was born in the forest during one of his wanderings. The pilgrimage continued and Rama's parents visited several Hindu shrines * Those interested in the subjection of Indian women are advised to read the author's book Women and Marriage in India (Allen & Unwin).

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and from the very childhood she was imbued with the teachings of Hinduism. Her parents and a sister died of starvation in the terrible famine years 1876-77. One of her brothers, Srinivas, died in 1880 and her husband in 1882. The loss of so many dear ones within such a short period made a deep impression on young Ramabai's mind and she began to seek solace away from the world she lived in. After visiting many cities in India she came with her little daughter to Poona. She had, by now been attracted by the activities of the missionaries and by the preachings of Father Gore, a high caste Brahmin of Maharashtra- who had embraced Christianity. The education and uplift of widows became her special care. Though Sati was abolished in British India in 1829, the plight of widows was most miserable and Ramabai herself was a victim of the social codes of the time. She needed training and for this purpose went to England. Here in the company of the Wantage Sisters she found many solutions to her spiritual riddles and in 1883 was baptized along with her daughter. From England she went to America and evoked considerable interest in Indian affairs. While in America she published her sensational work The High Caste Hindu Woman, and many Americans actively interested themselves in Indian social reforms. Ramabai herself was a living argument in favour of women's emancipation in India, for she was a woman of great charm and force of character. After making many friends in England and America, Ramabai returned to India. On March i, 1889 the Sarda Sadan (Home of Wisdom) was opened in Bombay for the education of girls in general and of widows in particular. Ramabai, like all pioneers, suffered many handicaps. Her conversion brought much opposition from Hindus and her educational activities from the orthodox of all persuasions. The prayer meetings in the Sadan brought forth the old cry of forcible conversions. In 1890 the Sadan was transferred to Poona because of the rising cost of living in Bombay. Ramabai worked indefatigably for the progress of female education, and founded the Home of Salvation the inmates of which by the year 1900 swelled to two thousand,

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all engaged in educational or Gospel work. As years passed on and her fame spread opposition gave place to admiration and till her death in 1922, this great pioneer and devout Christian lady worked incessantly for the emancipation of her sisters and for the spread of the message of the Master in whom she had found peace. By the time she breathed her last, India's emancipated womanhood was working in all fields of public activities, even in politics. The latter half of the nineteenth century and the twentieth century were marked in the mission field by the growth of organisations and an absence of outstanding personalities. The various missions, no doubt, did active work all over India preaching, converting, distributing tracts and building churches, but men of the calibre of Schwartz, William Carey and Henry Martyn were wanting. Even the Jesuits, who after their expulsion in 1803 had come back and started work, failed to produce men like Francis Xavier and de NobUi. The reason for this is not far to seek. The passing of India under the British crown and the freedom with which mission work was allowed to proceed in India, and the familiarity of Indians with Christians and Christianity made the country less attractive for bolder spirits who pined for martyrdom and adventure. But quantity more than compensated for quality, and the various missions worked steadily and quietly and built up large congregations all over India. During this period oriental scholarship advanced in Europe and both missionaries and savants began to take a lively interest in the religious and secular literature of India and as a result a better appreciation of Hindus and Muslims began to gain ground among Europeans. The old horror of the 'heathen' vanished and even idolatry was viewed as a concession to human nature. Sanskrit literature was studied as a classic comparable to Latin and Greek. With a better understanding of the Hindus greater stress was laid by the missionaries on Christian work as distinguished from conversions. The dissemination of knowledge in general and

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Christian knowledge in particular, humanitarian work and educational activities were given greater prominence in their programme than formal conversions. The work of the Medical Missions deserves particular mention. Hospitals and dispensaries mainly manned by the missionaries were established in several parts of the country. Institutions for the training of nurses, and Medical schools and colleges were also founded by the Missions and supported by foreign and indigenous munificence. The Christian Medical College Hospital, Vellore, founded by Dr. Miss Scudder, has, under the able directorship of the well-known Dr. Miss H. M. Lazarus, the first Indian lady to be appointed Chief of the W.M.S., risen to be one of the foremost institutions of its kind in Asia. We may now divert our attention to the political consequences of British rule and the spread of English education in India. For the political struggle that culminated in Indian independence in 1947 had none of the undesirable elements of the mutiny of 1857 and was conducted on both sides in a truly Christian spirit. Together with Christian knowledge, revolutionary theories in politics and religion reached India through the medium of English instruction. The irreligion of some of the Western schools of thought did not make any lasting impression on India, but it was otherwise with the political theories. As Indians travelled abroad and got higher education in England and America, they woke up to the fact of the humiliating political subjection of their country to foreigners and were naturally anxious to free India from British rule and apply the democratic principles of government to India too. It is good to remember that democracy and political liberalism are essentially offshoots of Christianity. It is true that early Christians believed only in the spiritual equality of man and not in political and economic equality. It is also true that the Buddha had made some effort to establish the equality of man, but his acceptance of the dogma of transmigration made the effort ineffective. On the other hand, early Christian theologians firmly established the equality of man on the ground of every one possessing an equal imperishable soul created by God and infused

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into the embryo. During the middle ages this equality was in practice confined to the spiritual sphere but with the Reformation and the bold schools of thought it gave rise to, the principle of equality was extended to material spheres to include the political theory of democracy and economic theory of socialism. When Indians first began to agitate for democracy and independence the British were considerably surprised. They put it down to gross ingratitude on the part of Indians and pointed out all the great things they had done for the country/the thousands of miles of railways they had built up, the peace, prosperity and solidarity they had given etc. etc. But Indians were not convinced, and argued that all this was done not for the benefit of Indians but for exploiting the country for the benefit of the British. When the charge of ingratitude failed, the British pointed out that Indians were not yet ready to rule themselves; the caste, untouchability, unapproachability, poverty, illiteracy and the stock-in-trade arguments familiar to all students of the Indian struggle for freedom were made much of. The Indians on the other hand, thought that these evils were inherent in subjection and could be overcome only through freedom; besides according to the theories of Englishmen themselves every nation had a right to misrule themselves. These undecided arguments naturally led to blows, and Indians who had looked upon the British as benefactors, especially after the country had come under the Crown and the Parliament, began to treat them as oppressors and tyrants. Feelings ran high and it looked as if the bad old days of the mutiny were coming again. At this crucial moment in the history of the country, the leadership of the struggle passed into the hands of a man who saved both Britain and India from the grim tragedy the countries were drifting into. For Mahatma Gandhi, whatever his differences with the British, steadfastly advocated a non-violent fight against the British and the freedom movement under his able guidance was a peaceful war with but isolated outbursts of violence which never marred the general effect of the struggle as a whole. The history of the political struggle is outside the scope of

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this book but not its Christian aspect. For Gandhiji was the first leader in a political struggle who applied the principles of the Sermon on the Mount on a national scale. He himself had his higher education in England and his spiritual leanings made him an ardent student of the Bible, and his political and social activities were not a little influenced by the teachings of Christ. "Turn the other cheek also," was his constant command to his followers even in the most provocative situations. In his prayer meetings the Bible was read along with other sacred books. He4was not a formal convert, but was certainly a member of the Universal Church of Christ. The political struggle under Gandhiji's leadership destroyed many old loyalties and had its repercussions on the Christian community in India. The position of the missionaries was particularly unenviable; most of those who came from the United Kindom had some connection with the official Church of England or institutions allied to it and it was difficult for them to actively side with the national movement against the British. The plight of the American missionaries was worse. The American missionary in India was more or less a guest of the British Indian government as the missionary before entering India had to sign a declaration of neutrality in the political affairs of the country. The position of Indian Christians was also difficult. As Indian nationals they had their loyalty to the country and could not afford to be passive spectators in a struggle of such momentous national importance as the Civil Disobedience Movement; further there was a tendency among Hindus and Muslims to look upon Indian Christians as denationalized and drawing inspiration from Europe in spite of the fact that Jesus was an Asian. Hence while many distinguished Hindus and Muslims condemned the Civil Disobedience Movement as a force of anarchy, any such pronouncement by a responsible Indian Christian was likely to be misconstrued. And the whole question was complicated for all Christians by the method of die movement which eschewed all violence and preached success through suffering and tribulation.

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The Indian Witness, a journal published from Lucknow was probably the only party that had no doubts as to the conduct to be followed by good Christians in this situation. The journal held that the non-violent activities of Gandhiji and his followers were as bad as those of cheque forgers and smugglers and declared that what influence it had would be 'upon the side of law and order*. But all Christians were not quite sure of this. Law breaking could not always be condemned by Christians since Jesus Himself broke some of the laws of His community and had to suffer for it. Father Verrier Elwin of the Chista Seva Sangh Ashram was of opinion that it was the duty of Christians to break the laws of a state when these conflicted with the higher law of God, and in a pamphlet entitled Christ and Satyagraha enumerated several conditions under which the authority of a state could be challenged by its citizens, and concluded: "There is nothing either in the teaching of Christ or in the dominant philosophical tradition of Christendom to prevent a conscientious Christian, if he feels the above conditions apply to India, from giving his wholehearted support to the noblest ideals of Indian nationalism as expressed by Mahatma Gandhi. . . . The real conflict today is not between nations, but between principles; not between England and India but between violence and non-violence; so surely it is the duty of Christians to throw their whole weight on the side of non-violence." Mr. J. C. Kumarappa, an Indian follower of Mahatma Gandhi who was then living in his Ashram, wrote when the historic Civil Disobedience Campaign of 1930 was started by Gandhiji: "Amongst Christians, there are Indians and foreigners who see eye to eye with national movement and those who honestly believe that the Nationalists are misled. But there can be no difference of opinion regarding non-violence amongst those who were enjoined by their Master to turn to 'whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek the other also' and to return good for evil. Before our very eyes, Gandhiji is substituting for warfare the gospel of love in a practical way. . . . What is going to be the contribution of those who profess to follow the Prince of Peace whose banner is love? . . . Here is an opportunity at our very

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door the like of which Christendom has never faced before. Do we not hear the Man of Sorrows say, 'He that taketh not his cross and folioweth after me is not worthy of me'. The choice is imminent." On the eve of convening the Round Table Conference, a statement signed by 200 missionaries of British birth was issued in which they emphasized the need for sympathetic attitude towards India's political aspirations. "We therefore urge that the principle should be fully and frankly recognised that the determining factor in laying down the lines of India's future constitution should be the wishes of the people of India. This principle is held by politicians of all schools and it is one that accords with our deepest Christian convictions. Its acceptance by the suzerain power would go far to ensure the success of the Round Table Conference." All told, religious organisations remained neutral and individuals were left to their own light. Politically minded Indians generally felt that their duty was towards the National Movement and a large number of them took active part in the Civil Disobedience Movement and suffered the consequences with their Hindu and Muslim countrymen. What organized political voice the Indian Christians as a community had at the time was on the side of the Congress. The Nationalist Christian Party of Bombay declared itself with the Congress. The Council of the All India Conference of Indian Christians, in a meeting held at Lucknow on July n, 1930 condemned the repressive measures of the Government. "The more powerful and organized a Government is," they pointed out, "the more does it stand condemned for employing methods which cannot bear the scrutiny of the highest principles of the Christian civilisation." We need not go into the details of the Indian struggle for freedom. Suffice to say that the outbreak of the war in 1939 pushed the Indian question into the background, but with the termination of the war events moved faster than anybody had expected. The first thing the Labour Government on coming to power did was to solve the Indian problem. They cut the Gordian

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Knot and divided India on a hastily agreed plan between the Congress and the Muslim League. In the division the majority of Christians found themselves in the Indian Union as Pakistan had but a negligible percentage of Christians. In our praise for Mahatma Gandhi's Christian virtues and his victory in the non-violent war, we must not lose sight of the fact that he was fighting a Christian foe. Gandhiji himself had admitted that non-violence is ineffective against an insane or hardened foe. The stories of Christian martyrs and the crucifixion of Jesus himself prove this. Why, the Apostle of non-violence himself fell by violence. In the British he had a humane opponent prone to persuasion and endowed with Christian charity. And this was mainly responsible for Gandhiji's success. For in the whole history of imperialism we look in vain for a precedent to the British granting of independence to India. The attachment to possessions is more developed in nations than in individuals and no nation has ever voluntarily relinquished control over a vast land that yielded much profit and more prestige. Truly the granting of independence to India by Britain was renunciation on a national scale. Apart from the Christian influence which was everywhere felt under British rule in India, the numerical gains from a proselytizer's point of view were also considerable. By the end of the British period the number of Christians in undivided India was computed at over 8,000,000, outnumbering the Sikhs by about 2,000,000.

CHAPTER XII THE INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON HINDUISM WE have seen that Christianity had firmly established itself in India in the first century of the Christian era, and in the South powerful Christian communities had even disputed with the Hindus political and economic dominance. But we find very little reference to Christ, His teachings or even about the Christian communities, in the religious literature of the Hindus. In fact, till the British came to India as thek masters, the Hindus seem to have remained completely indifferent to Christianity. This is mainly due to the fact that ancient and medieval Hindus generally considered all races except themselves as barbarians beneath their notice. Hindus, especially of the South, had in ancient times travelled abroad for trade and in search of colonies, but none of them took the trouble of studying the people or places they came in contact with. Even Indian Buddhists who had been responsible for the conversion of many nations outside their country were victims of this prejudice. They considered it their duty to teach and not to learn. Hence we have no Hindu work comparable to the delightful travel accounts of Hiuen Tsang, Fa Hian, Ibn Batuta or Marco Polo. During the middle ages even the little interest the ancients had in foreigners ceased. A rigid social code made contact with others taboo, and no respectable Indian was allowed to leave the country for lands overseas. Those who did were promptly excommunicated. These restrictions made the Hindus one of the most self-centred and conservative people in the world. The Muslim scholar Alberuni wrote of medieval Hindus: "They are by nature niggardly in communicating that which they know and they take the greatest possible care to withold it from men of another caste among their own people; still much more, of course, 204

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from any foreigner. According to their beliefs, there is no country on earth but theirs, and no created being beside them has any knowledge of science whatever. Their haughtiness is such that if you tell them of any science or knowledge in Khorasan or Persia they will think you both an ignoramus and a liar. If they travelled and mixed with other nations, they would soon change their minds, for their ancestors were not so narrow-minded as the present generation." These tendencies continued till the British through their educational system forced the Hindus to take some notice of other people. Further, an old Hindu literary practice makes the discovery of the real source of a religious innovation difficult when the ideas behind it were actually borrowed. A Hindu writer seldom recognized any source of inspiration except that of a god or of his Guru. That he borrowed freely from his fellow men and even his opponents is quite apparent from Hindu religious literature. The introduction in unexpected places of some hoary sage or god who starts a long sermon which has no connection with the text is a regular feature of works like the Mahabharata, Ramayana and the Puranas. When a Hindu writer found that his own authority or that of his Guru was not sufficient to compel conviction, he made no scruples of putting his novel ideas in the mouth of some sage or god whose authority was indisputable. Interpolation was the besetting sin of all Hindu writers, and any Christian ideas that might have been borrowed were incorporated in the Hindu system with no acknowledgements. Hence though Christian legends and teachings are discernible in ancient and medieval Hindu literature, there is no positive evidence to show the source. There is a passage in the Mahabharata which is believed to be an account of a eucharistic celebration in a Christian church probably in Persia or farther west. Three Hindu pilgrims had travelled from their homeland to the "White Country," and here they beheld the impressive ceremony: "Then we beheld glistening men, white, appearing like the

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moon adorned with all the auspicious marks, with their palms ever joined in supplication, praying to the Supreme Being, with their faces turned to the East: the prayer which is offered by these great hearted ones is called the mental prayer. "Then we suddenly saw a glory diffused, like that of a thousand suns shining at once, and those men quickly advanced towards that glory joyfully exclaiming, 'Hail to thee!' We heard the loud sound of them exclaiming, and knew that these men were offering the oblation to God, but we were rendered suddenly unconscious by this splendour and saw nothing, deprived of the use of our eyes, void of strength and senseless. But we only heard a loud cry uttered: 'Thou art victorious, O Lotus-eyed. Hail to thee, O creator of the Universe! Hail to thee, the Eldest Son of the Supreme Soul!' Such was the sound heard by us, accompanied with teaching. In the meanwhile a pure wind laden with perfumes, brought heavenly flowers and healing drugs." This, it is true, need not necessarily have been a Christian service. The Manichees had similar celebrations and the pilgrims were probably witnessing one of these. But Christian influence is clearly traceable in the great theistic movements that arose in Hinduism. The fact that these movements originated from the South, where Christianity had strongly established itself from very early times, is indicative of their Christian origin. Prior to Sankara, Buddhism was the dominant religion of India. The philosophy of pure Buddhism is non-Theistic if not atheistic. The Buddha 'passed the gods by' and in his system there is no place for a Creator of the Universe; the Law is supreme and personality subordinate to it. Every sin has to be lived down in numerous rebirths till the ego is destroyed by the accumulated virtue of good deeds. Buddhism viewed life as an exotic growth in the grand immeasurable expanse of annihilation. It was this dry philosophy that Sankara successfully challenged. Sankara was born in Kalady, a village two miles away from Angamali in the Serra, the ancient Syrian Christian stronghold. His date is uncertain but he is believed to have lived in the eighth

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century of the Christian era. Though his contact with Christianity cannot be positively established, it is quite unlikely that so bold an enquirer as Sankara failed to take notice of a powerful community of Christians living near his native village. Sankara was quite unconventional in his religious leanings and was excommunicated by the Nambudiri Brahmins among whom he was born and educated. He travelled throughout the length and breadth of India, mainly refuting Buddhist beliefs and eventually driving Buddhism out of India. Sankara's intellectualism drove him to the conception of ultimate reality as Nirguna Brahmam (God without attributes), but in his system considerable importance is given to Isvara, the Personal God, who is to be worshipped, prayed to and propitiated. "Having created the world," says Sankara in his commentary on the Gita, "the Bhagavat (God) with a view to its maintenance and well-being first caused the form of religion known as pravritti to be established among men." Bhagavat or Isvara "creates, upholds, and destroys universe. He pervades all things as their antaryamin, their 'Inner Ruler', controller, director, guide. He ordains the courses of Time, and determines the conditions of souls from birth to birth in accordance with the Law of the Deed. He is everywhere present, all-knowing and almighty. Presiding over all human destinies, he is the object of men's worship, and he bestows rewards and metes out punishments." This is theism and not pantheism and is the beginning of the theistic movement in Hinduism that started from the South. Sankara though a theist for practical purposes, was an ardent protagonist of salvation through knowledge. His idea of salvation was not release (Mukti) but self realisation through knowledge. Devotion, pilgrimage and other well-known religious exercises were only stepping stones to the higher knowledge in which the ego realizes its fundamental unity with the Universal Soul. As such his philosophy was permeated by an intellectualism too lofty to be understood by the generality of men. Further Sankara had spent the better part of his life combating Buddhism and had neither time nor inclination to reform existing

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Hindu practices. Hence he absorbed the existing Shaivism, the dominant Hindu cult of the time, in his system. Shaiva doctrines were largely connected with power worship and asceticism. The worship of Shiva is as old as India and most of the great ancient Hindu kings were Shaivas. His temples were the richest and most widely known. Though Shaivism suffered a setback during the ascendency of Buddhism, Sankara revived the old religion which now ousted Buddhism and established itself firmly in India. Soon after Sankara's revival of Hinduism, we find rising from the South a movement glorifying a new aspect of Shiva. The devotees of the new cult were not impressed by the terrific power or severity of asceticism of Shiva, but by his love and grace. These Shaiva saints filled South India with hymns in praise of these newly discovered virtues of the god, and Devaram the first collection of Shaiva hymns was composed in the nth century of the Christian era. Tiru Mular thus summarises the newly discovered aspect of Shiva: The ignorant say that Love and God are different; None knows that Love and God are the same. When they know that Love and God are the same, They rest in God's Love. Further, They have no love for God who have no love for all mankind. Appar, another Shaiva saint, definitely turns his face away from conventional ideas of propitiating Shiva by penances. Says he: Freedom from sin and corruption is to those only who see him in all things And not to those who see him only in particular places, Not to those who merely chant the Vedas or hear the Sastras expounded. It is to those only who crave for atonement With omnipresent and all powerful Lord And not to those who bathe at dawn, Nor to those who make daily offering to the Devas.

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It is to those only who know the Lord to be boundless in love and light And not to those who roam in search of holy shrines, Nor to those who practise severe austerities or abstain from meat. No gain of spiritual freedom is there to those who display the robes And other insignia of Yogins and Sanyasins or who mortify the flesh. That gain is only for those who glorify him as the Being Who vibrates throughout the universe and in every soul. Of particular interest in this connection is the Shaiva saint and poet Manikka Vasagar. The Christian tradition in South India and Malabar attributes the disappearance of St. Thomas Christians in the Tamil country to the activities of Manikka Vasagar. He is believed to have re-converted a vast number of Christians to Hinduism; those who refused to go back to Hinduism were driven over the Ghats to Malabar. These Tamil Christians remained a separate community known as Manigramakkar for a long time till they were absorbed by the Syrians. Manikka Vasagar was a sinner-converted saint. In his youth he was indifferent to the needs of his soul and a brilliant career under royal patronage opened for him all the pleasures of the world. It was while he was wallowing in luxury that he was arrested in mid-career by a power that seized him by the throat. "He laid his hand on me;" said Manikka Vasagar. The experience was indescribable: My inmost self in strong desire dissolved, I yearned; Love's river overflowed its banks; My senses all in him were centred; 'Lord', I cried, With stammering speech and quivering frame I clasped adoring hands; my heart expanding like a flower. From now on he turned his face away from the world and its pleasures and lived an intensely active religious life. Some of his

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hymns in humility, devotion, love and deep sense of sin could have been very well composed by Christian saints. He sang: I know thee, I, lowest of men that live, I know, and see myself a very cur, Yet, Lord, I'll say I am thy loving one! Though such I was, thou took'st me for thine own. The wonder this! Say is there aught like this? He made me servant of his loving saints! Dispelled my fear; ambrosia pouring forth he came, And while my soul dissolved in love made me his own. Henceforth I'm no one's vassal; none I fear, We have reached the goal. It is unlikely that Manikka Vasagar who did so much to reclaim the Christians to Hinduism even to the extent of persecuting them did not care to enquke into their religious beliefs. His intense theism was probably the result, at least in part, of a deske to give the reclaimed Christians the God of Love and Grace they were familiar with. He himself was a staunch theist with a strong sense of sin and the need for Divine Grace for salvation and was a contrast to Sankara, the exponent of the lofty theory of man's essential identity with God. With their best efforts, the Shaiva theists could not completely disengage Shiva from his hoary past. The new aspect of Shiva discovered in the South remained confined to this part of India. In the north he was still the god of ascetics and power worshippers. Besides, the prevailing philosophy of Advaita (Monism) which under Sankara's campaign spread all over India gave Shiva an ephemeral character indistinguishable from Maya, the illusion that enveloped reality. Hence for a purely theistic movement it became necessary to discard Shiva altogether. Such a movement now started, again from the South. Here along with Shaiva saints had appeared Alvars who sang the praises of Vishnu against those of Shiva. They too had strong theistic leanings but Vishnu at that time was a lesser god than Shiva. Then rose a teacher in the South who revolutionized Hinduism and

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gave it the much needed God of Love, Mercy and Grace. The god of the pantheon raised to this exalted position by Ramanuja, the new sage, was Vishnu as opposed to Shiva, the god of the then dominant sect. Ramanuja first attacked the Absolute Monism of Sankara and cut God and souls asunder. He too like Sankara drew or professed to draw inspiration from the Upanishads. As a student he quarrelled with his Shaiva teacher Yadava and struck an independent line of his own. He maintained the reality of God, souls and matter. "These are not, however, independent reals but interdependent. The sold is the controlling factor of body or matter and God controls both. Without God neither soul nor matter has existence except as a conception. The three are in fact inseparable and form a complex whole and Ramanuja's Vishishat Advaita is neither dualism nor pluralism but monism with a qualification." Whatever the philosophical background, the practical effect of Ramanuja's teaching was to give India a theism on the lines of Christian conceptions. The similarity is remarkable in the method of obtaining salvation. While the older school maintained that the goal of man was self-realisation through correct knowledge, Ramanuja maintained that the supreme bliss of man is in the soul's consciousness of the Divine Presence. This bliss is obtained through devotion and self-surrender. The Jnana Marga or the path of knowledge of the Advaitin is subordinate to Bhakti or devotion. Advaita was essentially aristocratic as true knowledge could be obtained only through the Veda and the lower castes were debarred from reading it; but the Vaishanavas maintain that the lowest creature on earth can obtain salvation through Bhakti and self surrender to Vishnu whose infinite grace extended to the high born and the lowly. Some of the greatest Vaishnava saints were of low birth. The Shaivas persecuted the Vaishnavas as they did the Buddhists, Jains and Christians and efforts were even made to poison Ramanuja. But since Ramanuja professed to draw inspiration from the Veda, his doctrines had the stamp of orthodoxy and persecution proved ineffective. Within a short time the new doctrine spread

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all over India and successfully challenged Shaivism. The existing doctrine of incarnation in which Vishnu in his infinite mercy was believed to have taken human and animal forms to save suffering worlds gave the movement infinite variety and scope. The symbolism of sexual love, the nearest approach in ordinary human experience to the bliss of the mystic, was also introduced, and sensuous love cults sprang up in several parts of India. Rama, the seventh, and Krishna, the eighth incarnations of Vishnu became the particular deities of the Vaishnavas. The soul-stirring theism of Ramanjua was carried by his disciple Ramananda to the north. His disciple Kabir, one of the greatest saints India has ever produced, preached the brotherhood of man and Hindu Muslim unity. Kabir's disciple Nanak founded Sikhism which attracted the virile races of the Punjab. Madhava, Chaitanya, Vallabha, Swami Narayana and a host of other saints and teachers hastened the spread of the new faith. Poets sang in ecstatic devotion the praises of Vishnu and his incarnations. Those tiresome ckcumambulations of shrines, endless repetition of mystic syllables, weary pilgrimages to sacred waters, and careful performance of ablutions, and rigid observance of caste rules were rejected as meaningless; for Vishnu, who saw the hearts of men, was more impressed by a contrite heart than by a long list of correct actions. Vishnu was the tireless hunter after souls and his grace converted the most abandoned sinner into a saint in the twinkling of an eye. The Lord in the winning of one true devotee lost himself in rapture. He was not the Lord of the devotee, but Bhaktadasa (the skve of the devotee). Salvation by devotion became the watchword of the Vaishnava. The new doctrine spread all over India with lightning rapidity and filled the country with songs of the Lord. The greatest Vaishnava bards were Tulasi Das in the North, Tukaram in Maharashtra, Jayadeva in Bengal and Mira in Western India. In Western India the worship of Krishna is more popular than that of Rama. There are many legends about Krishna which point to a Christian source. The comparatively late origin of the Krishna cult and its appearance in Western India which had constant

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commercial contact with the Christian communities of the ports of Persia make the hypothesis more than a probability. The similarity in the name of Krishna and Christ is itself striking. Jesus was born in a cowshed, and Krishna's childhood days were spent among herdsmen, and one of his names is Gopalan meaning a herdsman. King Kansa, like Herod, wished to kill the divine child. Foiled in this attempt, Kansa ordered a general massacre of children. Krishna like Jesus suffered a violent death though the circumstances of his death differ from that of Jesus. In the Bhagavat Gita Krishna believed to have revealed, he appears as God who, out of love of man, descended to the earth to save the world from the catastrophe sin led it into. Some of the doctrines preached in the Gita have a definitely Christian note. A few passages of the Gita have been compared by a Western writer to extracts from the fourth Gospel, and the following will be of interest in this connection: "The world was made by Him and the world knew him not! He came unto His own, and they that were His own received Him not!" St. John i 10-11. "Men distraught know Me not in My highest nature; I take a human form and they honour Me not." Gita ix n. "I know whence I came . . . but ye know not. "St. John viii 14. "I have come through many births and thou also; I know them all; thou knowest them not!" Gita iv 5. "He that loveth Me . . . I shall love him!" St. John xiv 21. "I love them that are devoted to Me: even as they are to Me, so I to them." Gita iv n. "This is life eternal, that they should know Thee, the only true God, and Him whom Thou hast sent." St. John xvii 13. "He who knows Me, the Lord of the World, is freed from sins." Gita x 3. The similarity, however, ends here. For Krishna worship in practice differs widely from Christian worship and has very little in common with Christianity.

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In the absence of positive evidence, th6 Christian influences on Hinduism so far mentioned remain mainly hypothetical. But with the rise of British power, Christian influence on Hinduism became more obvious. Of the many innovations Christian contact originated none is more important than the Brahmo Samaj founded by Rajah Ram Mohan Roy in 1828. Ram Mohan Roy was an ardent admirer of the Bible and was greatly influenced by the teachings of the missionaries. He was quite at home in the English society of Calcutta. It is typical of the man that when Alexander Duff during his first sermon distributed copies of the Bible to his students and some of these in true medieval spirit murmured that the book was a Christian Sastra the reading of which would lead them to apostasy, Ram Mohan Roy stepped forward and exclaimed: "Christians like Drs. Horace and Wilson have studied the Hindu Sastras and you know they have not become Hindus. I myself have read the Koran again and again, and has that made me a Mussalman? Nay, I have studied the whole Bible and you know that I am not a Christian. Why then do you fear to read it? Read and judge for yourselves." The Brahmo Samaj was "open to all sorts and conditions of men for the worship and adoration of the Eternal, Unsearchable and Immortal Being who is the Author and Preserver of the Universe." Idolatry and caste were strictly forbidden. All the great religious leaders of the world like the Buddha, Jesus, Muhammad and Zoroaster were in principle treated with equal veneration. In Brahmo services "no sermon, preaching, discourse, prayer or hymn be delivered, made or used but such as have a tendency to the promotion of the contemplation of the Author and Preserver of die Universe, to the promotion of charity, morality, piety, benevolence, virtue and the strengthening of the bonds of union between men of all religions and creeds." In Ram Mohan Roy's time, the disintegration of the old order had started and a section of Hindus were drifting to free thinking and rationalism. The missionaries naturally offered conversion to Christianity as the only means of saving India. Ram Mohan Roy, while publicly maintaining the greatness of Christianity and even

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regularly attending Christian services, still held that Hinduism was not so bad as was practised at the time. He professed to draw inspiration from the Upanishads, that inexhaustible source of all Hindu speculation and innovation, and interpreted the texts on the basis of his wide experience of Christianity, Islam and Hinduism. Ram Mohan Roy made no secret of the fact that he had benefited much by the study of Christianity but maintained that the Brahmo Samaj (Society of God) stood for pure Hinduism as distinguished from what he called the corrupt Hinduism practised in his time. The Samaj attracted a good many enlightened Hindus, young and old, although the orthodox pronounced it as heretical. Ram Mohan Roy visited England several times and he was received here with much enthusiasm as a great Indian leader of enlightened views and as a possible convert to Christianity. But the latter hope was not realized. Though a staunch admirer of Christianity, Roy believed that the true Hindu way of life was as good as the Christian, and he died in England in the year 1833 as a Hindu. As for conversion, it may be mentioned that he converted his Christian tutor Mr. Adam to the Brahmo Samaj, and this missionary after the conversion was known in English social circles in Calcutta as the 'Fallen Adam'. On Ram Mohan Roy's death, the leadership of the Samaj passed on to Devendranath Tagore, a man of independent means and endowed with a mystic bent of mind. Although he relinquished idolatry and was an ardent believer in the unity of Godhead, yet he was a staunch Hindu and a protagonist of Yoga and contemplation. It was under its third great leader, Keshub Chandra Sen, that the Samaj took a definitely Christian turn. Keshub started life as a bank clerk. The boredom of quill driving became unbearable and looking for more congenial fields for the expression of his personality he joined the Brahmo Samaj in the year 1859. From the very start he showed his fiery spirit, and the creed and practice of the Samaj appeared too tame for the young zealot. The life and teachings of Christ had an irresistible attraction for him. Some of the young members of the Samaj viewed the reactionary leanings of Devendranath Tagore with disfavour, and

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under the leadership of Keshub they established the 'Brahmo Samaj of India' as an advanced section of the Brahmos; the older persuasion under Tagore came to be known as the 'Adi Samaj' (original Samaj). The personality of the venerable old patriarch who had ordained Keshub had a restraining influence on Keshub and the two sects worked in amity without coming into open conflict. After Tagore's death Keshub struck an independent line of his own. Keshub's intellectual gifts and his power of eloquence won for him the admiration of all, and some of his followers began to imagine that he moved in a sphere different from theirs. The missionaries and the British generally viewed the activities of Keshub with favour because of his progressive views and Christian leanings, and the viceroy, Sir John Lawrence, befriended Keshub. This naturally enhanced the power and prestige of the Samaj and its leader. With this rise in popularity, a tendency began to rise among a section of the Samaj to venerate Keshub as a saint if not to worship him as a god. Though Keshub did not actively combat this tendency, in the beginning he was inclined to treat it with disfavour. But as time passed on and his popularity and prestige increased Keshub, like many another great man of his type, began to entertain and nourish a belief that he was born to achieve something unique and as such stood apart from the generality of men. In the year 1870 Keshub visited Britain and received a great welcome in that country. His oratory, definite Christian leanings, and personality won for him the admiration of all, and the great ladies and noblemen of the realm vied with one another to befriend the Wise Man from the East. Keshub's impressions of the West as compared to the East are embodied in his farewell address delivered at Southampton, a passage from which is reproduced below: "The true kingdom of God will not be realised, unless the East and West are joined together, for it has been said, and every day, through inspiration we hear the voice of God, that the East and West, the North and the South shall sit down in the kingdom of

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God. The West with all its thought and culture, its social purity and domestic sweetness, is but half the circle of human civilisation and progress. The East is the other half. I admire the earnestness and firmness of purpose I have seen here; I admire those stupendous works of noble and disinterested works of charity in which thousands of pure and generous minded Englishmen and women are daily engaged. I admire the force of will and the strength of character which I see in your nation; I feel that you have nerves of adamant, with which you overcome any amount of opposition, and surmount obstacles that come in your path; but this is not all that God requires of us. When I turn to my country and the East, I find warmth of heart, solitary contemplation on her hills and mountains, deep communion with the indwelling and omniscient spirit of the One Supreme God; I see a voluntary and deliberate withdrawing of the heart from all anxieties and cares of the world for a time, in order to engage in uninterrupted contemplation of the attributes of God; I see the heart in all its fervour and sympathy in daily communion towards the one loving Father. I see there the heart of man, and in England the mind of man— there the soul, here the will; and as it is our duty to love God with all our heart and soul and mind and strength, it is necessary that all these four elements of character be united. I do not mean to say that there is no such thing as practical righteousness in the nations of the East but that each nation, so at least I believe, represents only one side of the truth, and represents it with peculiar fidelity. The truths which are represented in England and Western countries generally are those which refer to force of character, earnestness of purpose, conscientious strictness, noble charity, practical duty, while the truths which I find peculiarly developed in India—developed to a greater extent than anywhere else—and in Eastern countries generally are those which have reference to sweetness of communion, sweetness of temper, meekness and resignation to God. Is it not then our duty as brothers to unite England and India, the East and the West, that the East may receive some of the truths of the West, and the West some of the grand ideas of Eastern countries?"

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The active virtues Keshub noticed in England fired him with a zeal to organize and popularize the Brahmo Samaj and for this purpose he generally adopted the methods used by the missionaries. Propaganda by means of cheap literature was the first step he took towards the spread of Brahmo ideals, and he started a newspaper with its price as one pice per copy. Schools for the education of women and a theological seminary for Brahmos were then established. Boarding schools, study circles, and other familiar institutions of Christian Missions were faithfully copied. The most revolutionary activity of Keshub was die founding in 1880, of the New Dispensation Samaj; this was a Church, Christian in its main doctrines, but essentially Indian and altogether different from the churches of the West. He held that Europeans with their practical bent of mind could not adequately grasp the essentially mystic doctrines of an Asian Christ, and Indians, especially himself and his followers were better qualified to interpret the teachings of Christ. Keshub was now past middle age and inclined to the pantheistic view so deep rooted in Hinduism, and began to preach Christ in conformity with his views. His ambition now turned to the founding of a church of his own in which the teachings of Indian sages and the Hebrews were to be blended harmoniously in Christ to make a universal religion with himself as the prophet of the new church; and the New Dispensation Samaj was the result of this ambition. For the necessary authority for his mission he invoked Adesh or Revelation a factor hitherto unknown in Bramo Samaj which had always claimed to be a natural and rational religion. Keshub thus proclaimed to the world the meaning of the New Dispensation: "It is the harmony of all scriptures and Prophets and Dispensations. It is not an isolated creed, but the science which binds and explains and harmonizes all religions.lt gives to history a meaning, to the action of Providence a consistence, to quarrelling churches a common bond, and to successive dispensations a continuity. It shows by marvellous synthesis how the different rainbow colours are one in the light of heaven. The New Dispensation is the sweet music of diverse instruments. It is the

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precious necklace in which are strung together the rubies and the pearls of all ages and climes. It is the celestial court where around enthroned Divinity shine the lights of all heavenly saints and prophets. It is the wonderful solvent which fuses all dispensations into a new chemical compound. It is the mighty absorbent which absorbs all that is true and good and beautiful in the objective world." In his admiration of Jesus, Keshub with a few followers decided to visit the Jordan where Jesus was baptized. The pilgrims, however, did not deem it necessary to travel all the way to Palestine for this purpose. Keshub and his disciples proceeded to a tank in Calcutta and here the Prophet of the New Dispensation converted the tank into the Jordan by a wave of his hand. He stood on the bank of the tank and exclaimed: "Beloved brethren, we have come to the land of the Jews, and are seated on the bank of the Jordan. Let them that have eyes see. Verily, verily here was the Lord Jesus baptized eighteen hundred years ago. Behold the holy waters wherein was the Son of God immersed." Then anointing himself with oil, Keshub immersed himself thrice in the water saying "Glory to the Father, Glory to the Son, Glory unto the Holy Ghost," and then took a fourth immersion to the glory of "Truth, Wisdom and Joy in One." Keshub's original antagonism towards idolatry also underwent a change, and he began to view it in the manner of orthodox Hindus as a sincere attempt at finding God and as a stepping stone to higher religion. In order to gain spiritual insight into the various cults Keshub performed the 'Horn' to the Hindu god Agni, danced mystic dances in honour of Krishna, and performed mysterious rites to hold communion with the shades of departed saints and prophets. The result of this effort to please every one was universal displeasure. Except the blind followers of the new prophet none was impressed by these activities. Christians, of course, remained aloof. The orthodox Hindus would have nothing to do with the eccentric innovator. The Muslims were not at all interested. Even

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the Brahmos were not pleased; in fact a section of them had been viewing the activities of their leader with alarm from the very beginning of his career and had made several protests against Keshub's prophetic claims. The introduction of Adesh to explain away the irrational activities of the leader led to considerable misgivings, and when Keshub married his child daughter to the boy Rajah of Cooch Bihar in contravention of the accepted principles of the Samaj, the dissenting section passed a resolution in a meeting excommunicating Keshub. Keshub justified his action on the strength of a new revelation he had received from the Almighty. The dissenters were inclined to believe that revelation was effectively supplemented by a very human desire to get a ruling prince as son-in-law. They went so far as to seize the Brahmo Mandir and Keshub had to invoke the aid of the police. This quarrel led to a schism in the Samaj and the dissenters under Pandit Sevanath Sastri founded the Saddharana Samaj. Their creed was the following: i. Belief in the immortality of an infinite Creator; 2. Belief in the immortality of the soul; 3. Belief in the duty and necessity of spiritual worship of God; and 4. Disbelief in any infallible book of man as the means of salvation. It is not necessary to go into the further history of the Samaj. Keshub died on the 8th January, 1884 and after his death the affairs of the New Dispensation Samaj fell into a bad way, and it now exists mainly on die charity of friends and well-wishers. The Brahmo Samaj has never been a popular religion. At best it supplied a refuge for those Hindus who under the impact of Christianity and Westernism wished to dissociate themselves with the popular Hinduism of the time. As for its grand ideal of uniting all peoples into one religion, it suffered the general fate of all such attempts, i.e.: it added one more sect to the number already existent. An offshoot of the Brahmo Samaj, inspired mainly by Keshub, was the Prarthana Samaj of Bombay which had an uneventful history. At one time the Samaj had considerable following among

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the intellectuals of Bombay, and Mahadev Gobind Ranade, Sir Ramakrishna Bhandarkar, Sir Narayana Chandravarkar and other distinguished sons of Maharashtra were its members. The spread of Christianity, especially the proselytizing activities of the missionaries, had its inevitable repercussions on Hinduism. A section of Hindus began to view with alarm the deflection of large numbers of their co-religionists to Christianity; with the spread of democratic ideals numerical strength began to count in politics and Hindus woke up to the need for stopping the constant flow of their members to Christianity by reforming Hinduism itself. Swami Dayanand, the founder of the Arya Samaj, had probably this in view when he started his revolt against the old order. He was the Luther of Hindu Reformation. Dayanand was born in a village in Kathiawar and as a boy showed considerable religious precocity. He ran away from home and accepting the role of the Hindu Sanyasi wandered all over India visiting shrines and bathing in holy waters. In 1860 he accepted a blind old Brahmin as his Guru and this sage infused a new vigour in his young disciple. Founding the Arya Samaj, Dayanand made a three pronged attack on Christianity, Islam and orthodox Hinduism. His horror of idolatry was almost Hebraic. He contemptuously dubbed the existing Hinduism as Pauranic or drawing its inspiration from the Puranas which according to Dayanand were no better than fairy tales. He abolished child marriage among his followers and encouraged widow marriage. His rejection of the Puranas made him extraordinarily loyal to the Vcdas. He recognized no inspiration except that of the Veda and no knowledge outside this ancient text. His interpretation of the Veda is embodied in his work Satyartha Prakash which is the Bible of the Aryas. Dayanand's followers were called Aryas because they claimed to be the lineal descendants of the Vedic Aryans. He was a monothcist and his philosophy was based on the Vishishta Advaita of Ramanada. But he rejected the idol worship and mysticism of the Vaishnavas.

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Unlike Ram Mohan Roy and Keshub Chandra Sen, Dayanand had no English education and he claimed inspiration solely from India and Sanskrit literature. The rising tide of nationalism of the early twentieth century gave an impetus to the Arya Samaj and its militant nationalism appealed to all Hindus especially to the martial races of the Punjab where the movement flourished with extraordinary vigour. In order to reclaim converts back to Hinduism, the Suddhi movement was started which by a religious rite reconverted to Hinduism Indians of other persuasions, an altogether new feature in Hinduism. By a wide interpretation of the word Arya even foreigners were taken into the Hindu fold. The Aryas not only started large scale reconversions to Hinduism, but vigorously combated the proselytizing activities of Christians and Muslims. The Arya Samaj does not, at present, enjoy the same prestige and popularity it did in the first three decades of the twentieth century. With the rise of the Indian National Congress to power, religion was considerably disentangled from politics, and with the dawn of Indian independence the need for militant nationalism disappeared. Further, dissensions started in the Samaj itself which weakened its solidarity and one-time strength. Another interesting development of the British period was the starting of missionary activities by the Hindus in Western countries. The Indian Buddhists, as we have seen, were the first missionaries in the world. But with the decay of Buddhism and the revival of Hinduism, the tendency in India had been to keep one's knowledge to oneself. By contact with the British and because of the new spirit of internationalism modern ideas engendered, many Hindus began to feel that India had a message for the world. It was to preach this message that Swami Vivekananda, an able exponent of Advaita, travelled westward and for the first time preached Hinduism to Christians. Both in America and England he had a good hearing. The Ramakrishna misssion continued the work of Vivekananda and established several centres in America and Europe for the dissemination of Hindu knowledge among Christians. These missionaries, being Sanatanists belonging to

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the old school, do not work for formal conversions but are content to propagate the Hindu view of life for its own sake. Mainly through their efforts and those of their Western sympathisers Hinduism is much better known in Europe and America now than ever before, and some of its doctrines like Yoga have ardent devotees in the West.

CHAPTER XIII SOME CHRISTIAN COMMUNITIES OF THE WEST COAST ALTHOUGH Christians form the third largest community in India, their distribution is so wide and allegiance so varied that there are few cohesive units with distinct characteristics. The only communities that have a continuous tradition and history are the Syrian Christians, and a few others on the West Coast who owe their origin to the Portuguese. There are a number of tribal Christian communities who are numerically considerable but politically and economically negligible. All over India and particularly in the South and in Bengal there are quite a number of Christians of the highest social standing but they have not formed into a numerically strong, cohesive community. THE SYRIAN CHRISTIANS OF MALABAR We have traced an outline of the history of this interesting Christian community from the time of St. Thomas to the historic revolt of Coonen Cross. This revolt marks an epoch in the history of the Syrians. The revolt was not so much against the authority of the Pope as against that of Goa and the Jesuits. The news of the revolt reaching Rome, Pope Alexander VII sent a mission of Carmelite monks to Cochin to win back the rebels to the Roman fold. They reached Malabar in 1657 and their mission proved eminently successful. They claimed back for Rome 84 churches. While they were actively working for bringing back the remaining 32 which owed allegiance to Mar Thoma I, the Dutch captured the port of Cochin and drove away all European missionaries from areas under their influence. The Syrian Catholics were then left to rule themselves as best as they could without any help from the missionaries. 224

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The Dutch outburst against Catholic missionaries was, however, short-lived, and slowly one hy one the missionaries returned. With the Carmelites the Jesuits also came back, and the old feud between the different orders started anew. The Jus Patronable by which the king of Portugal had the right to appoint Archbishop of Cranganoor and Bishop of Cochin was invoked by the Portuguese priests while others pointed out that the right ceased to exist since the Portuguese had no influence in Cochin or Cranganoor. The Carmelites established their first church at Chakiat near Ernakulam. A new see was created in Verapoly in 1698 and a Bishop appointed with jurisdiction over all Catholics, Syrian and Latin, in Cochin and Travancore. The Jesuits at Cranganoor and Cochin did not submit to the authority of Verapoly, and when the Papal Bull Multa Proceclare of 1838 virtually abolished the Padroado (Portuguese patronage) over Cochin, Cranganoor, Verapoly and Colombo, the Portuguese clergy contended that they were not bound by the Papal Bull. This trouble continued for some time till Pope Leo XIII by his concordat of 1886 finally gave the jurisdiction over Syrian Catholics to the Archbishop of Verapoly. The Syrian Catholics lived under the See of Verapoly for some time when the old desire to have Bishops of their own began to agitate the Syrians and as a result of their repeated petitions, three Indian Bishops were consecrated. The Syrian Catholic community was divided into three dioceses in 1896 i.e.: Trichur, Ernakulam and Chenganassery. A further Sec of Kottayam was created shortly afterwards and an Indian Bishop appointed. The desire of the Syrian Catholics for independence did not, however, end here. They were still under the Archbishop of Verapoly. A further effort was made to establish an independent Syrian Catholic hierarchy, and Erankulam was raised to an Archdiocese and Mar Augustine Kandathil was consecrated the first Archbishop of the Syrian hierarchy in 1924. Thus an age old ambition of a section of Syrians was finally realized. The history of those who, in spite of the efforts of the emissaries of the Pope, refused to recognize the supremacy of the Pope

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is more eventful and interesting. These under their first Metran (Bishop) who took the titular name of Mar Thoma, came to be known as Puthencoor (new sect) in distinction to the Syrian Catholics who were called Pazhayacoor (old sect). The division was somewhat unnatural as it conformed to no geographical distribution of population. It happened that several towns and villages with but one church each found the congregations divided into Puthencoor and Pazhayacoor, and interminable disputes started between the two sects for the possession of the church and its property. In soitte churches both parties held services indiscriminately and litigation ruined several Syrian Christian families. This dissension weakened both parties materially and spiritually, and in the bitter quarrels that ensued economic interests often dominated the religious issue. A vigorous effort was made towards the unity of the Malabar church by well-meaning people and an able Malpan named Kariattil Joseph was selected to go to Rome and represent the facts about the Malabar Church before the Holy See. He took with him a Cattanar named Parammakkel Thoma, a literary genius who has left us an account of his travels.* The Malpan and the Cattanar with two young Malabar Christians who wished to prosecute higher studies in Rome set sail from Madras on the I4th October 1777. They travelled by way of the Cape of Good Hope but due to bad weather and the needs of the merchantman in which they sailed, the party had to go direct to Brazil and from here to Lisbon. From Lisbon they travelled to Genoa and Rome. After having been favourably received in Rome they started on their return journey by way of Portugal and Ceylon, in Portugal the Malpan was consecrated Archbishop of Cranganoor and he returned to India to take charge of his see. But reaching Goa in 1786, the worthy Archbishop died here and with him perished all hopes of a reunion of the Puthencoor and Pazhayacoor Syrians. * This is probably the first work of its nature written by an Indian in an Indian language (Malayalam). But due to the indifference of Indians in general and of Indian Christians in particular to such matters, the work has not yet been published.

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The political misfortunes of the House of Cochin added to the decline of the Syrians. The Syrians were traditionally attached to the Perumals and thek lineal descendants the Maharajahs of Cochin, and most of them lived in the kingdom of Cochin. The benevolent rulers of this state had a high regard for the Syrians because of their traditional loyalty to their House. Rajah Martanda Varma of Travancore now started the consolidation and expansion of the then little kingdom of Travancore and made successful inroads into Cochin, and many of the Syrian Christian centres were annexed by Travancore. The Rajahs of Travancore and their nobles looked upon the Syrians as undesirables, as most of them had fought on the side of Cochin in the local wars. Hence while there are no records of active persecution by the rulers themselves, the nobles and chieftains of Travancore treated the ancient privileges of Syrians with scant respect and they were subjected to harsh taxes, forced labour and other humiliations. Some petty chieftains even indulged in active persecution. This was bad enough. But now suddenly descended on Cochin and northern Travancore with the quickness and violence of a cyclone the armies of Tippu Sultan. Tippu's hatred of the British extended to all Christians and thousands of them were carried away into captivity from Canara and the Tamil countries. Tippu was bent upon punishing the Rajah of Travancore for his alliance with the British and his hordes swept over the Serra which had for centuries enjoyed immunity from foreign invasion. The destruction Tippu carried before him has little to match in the history of Malabar or South India. His Vandals destroyed every temple and church that came in their way and forcibly converted Hindus and Christian alike. The people, terror sticken, fled to the hills and the country was laid waste. Old Christian centres like Palur, Cranganoor, Angamali and Alangad were all deserted. But fortunately before Tippu could complete his work of destruction he had to beat a hasty retreat from the bank of the river Alwaye in order to defend his own capital which the British had attacked in redemption of their promise of help to Travancore.

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This no doubt saved Travancore, but the Syrian Christians were all but ruined. Those who came from the hills after the departure of Tippu had to start everything anew. Many fled to central and southern Travancore and founded new colonies there. During these years of travail, the Puthencoor Syrians suffered worse than the Pazhayacoor. The Catholics because of the strength of their organization could still put up a united front to redress their grievances; they could always count upon the support of European missionaries and some of these came from families of the highest repute in Europe and the Dutch, though Protestant, could in many ways be influenced. During their supremacy in Malabar the Dutch did not actively interest themselves in the Syrians and were more amenable to social and political than religious influence. If the Puthencoor Syrians had remained united under their chosen leaders they could have, no doubt, done something to have their influence felt. But dissensions broke out among them, and the old passion for Western Asian Bishops flared forth again. To meet their demand a Bishop was sent to the Puthencoor Syrians by the Jacobite Patriarch of Antioch. It is not dear how the Syrians came to accept a Bishop of the monophysite persuasion. They were not, as we have seen, so loyal to doctrines as to the ancient link with Western Asia and any Bishop from this part of die world was probably considered better than local Metrans (Bishops) or Europeans. Anyway, the occasional arrival of foreign prelates only added to the troubles of Puthencoor Syrians. The Mar Thoma or Metran, the titular head of the Syrian Church, very often refused to submit to the authority of the foreigners whereas a good number of Cattanars and laity, especially those who had some grievance against the local head, readily accepted them. Some enterprising Cattanars even went to Antioch, and obtaining ordination from the Patriarch returned to Malabar and successfully disputed authority with foreign prelates and local Metrans. As long as the Dutch had supremacy over the coastal towns, they did not interest themselves in the internal affairs of the Syrians and were

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content to receive the passage money of the Bishops who travelled by their ships; even here there were disputes about overcharging which had to be settled by the Maharajah of Travancore. With the arrival of the British a new element of discord was introduced into the affairs of the Puthencoor Syrians. The first two British Residents in Travancore and Cochin, Cols. Macaulay and Munro, took an active interest in the Syrians. They realized that the greatest need of the Syrians was their economic uplift. Col. Macaulay obtained for the Syrians considerable sums of money from the Travancore Durbar as compensation for certain injuries they had suffered, the exact nature of which is not known, for equal distribution between the Pazhayakoor and Puthencoor Syrians. The portion allotted to the latter proved but another source of trouble and the cost of litigation it had involved has by now mounted to more than ten times the original amount. Col. Munro effectively helped the Syrians. He was a good administrator and a zealous Christian and he engaged large numbers of Christians in public service which, at that time, carried much prestige and power. In Cochin this innovation did not cause any trouble, as the Maharajah and his nobles had traditionally held the Christians in respect. But in Travancore upper class Hindus viewed this departure from tradition with suspicion and misgivings. Anyway die personality and power of Munro prevailed and the active support he received from the sovereign Rani silenced, for the time being at least, all opposition. It did, however, leave some ill-feeling between Christians and Hindus in Travancore which has come down to the present day. After giving considerable economic support to Christians and generally laying the foundation for their material prosperity, Munro turned his attention to their spiritual uplift. By now the missionary clause had been removed from the Charter of the East India Company, and the first band of Protestant missionaries came to Travancore at the express invitation of Munro. They were at first elated to find the Puthencoor Syrians not owing obedience to Rome and thought the work of making them good Protestants was easy. While the Syrians accepted with alacrity all the material

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benefits Col. Munro and the missionaries had conferred upon them, they were not equally eager to accept the doctrines and ways of the Anglican Church. Munro and the missionaries were much grieved to find Roman influence among the Puthencoor Syrians, who, from the Synod of Diamper till the Revolt of Coonen Cross, had been under the active leadership of the Catholic Church. While the local heads and Cattanars in their conferences with the missionaries admitted the need for removal of Catholic practices, they always pointed out the practical difficulties that had to be overcome. As the Portuguese had worked for the separation of the Cattanars from their wives, the C.M.S. Mission now tried to get the celibate Cattanars married. The Cattanars pleaded poverty as an excuse for celibacy. Munro decided to eliminate this excuse by promising allowances to married clergymen and even declared a prize of Rs.4OO for the first Cattanar that would marry. The temptation was too much for the Cattanars and they started marrying. Another Catholic practice that annoyed the missionaries was the prayers said for the dead. The Cattanars' main income was from Kurbanas (Masses) said for the souls of the dead, and if the practice were to be withdrawn, it would have ruined them completely as the laity then would not understand the need for clergymen. Here even the promise of allowances did not carry conviction to the Cattanars. These now told the missionaries that they were not so independent as they had imagined but had to abide by the decisions of the Patriarch of Antioch and his accredited representatives. The arrival of these dignitaries always caused trouble for the missionaries; the activities of the missionaries, on the other hand, were considered an interference by the foreign prelates. The Metrans and the Cattanars suffered much between the two. One Bishop went to the extent of flogging Cattanars into obedience and another, Mar Athanasius who arrived in Malabar in November 1825, threatened Mar Philoxenus, the local Metran, "that he would himself come, strip him of his robes and take by force his cross and staff and break them to pieces." Mar Philoxenus appealed to the British

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and they had the foreign Bishop deported. It appeared that the old procedure under the Portuguese was being repeated and there was considerable commotion among the Syrians who thought that the British interference was uncalled for. The trouble between the Syrians and the missionaries came to a climax when Bishop Wilson visited Travancore and in an interview with Cheppat Mar Dionysius, the then head of the Puthencoor Syrians, pointed out that the time had come to introduce the much needed reforms in the Syrian Church along Protestant lines if not strictly Anglican lines. Mar Dionysius now decided that the time had come to settle once for all whether the Syrian Church should remain under Antioch or go Protestant. He convened a Synod of Puthencoor Syrians in January 1836 at Mavelikkara. The Synod acknowledged with gratitude all the help the Syrians had received from the British, but formally rejected all innovations on Anglican lines and reaffirmed the supremacy of Antioch. After this the missionaries left the Syrians to themselves in all matters concerning doctrine and practice, though they maintained cordial relations with them and were ever helpful. The work of the missionaries did not, however, go in vain. Some of the Syrians were deeply affected by the simplicity of Protestant worship, and the Seminary founded and superintended by the missionaries had turned out many young Syrians with definite Protestant leanings. These founded under a Cattanar named Abraham, 'the Wickliffe of the Syrian Church', a new autonomous church; the service in the new church was conducted in Malayalam, prayers for the dead were given up and a Malayalam liturgy replaced the Syrian. The movement naturally found favour with the missionaries and the British, and under the influence of the Residents both the Travancore and Cochin Durbars recognized the new church and the Bishop. The members of this new autonomous church are known as Mar Thoma Syrians. Thus the Syrian church has, at present, three main divisions: The Catholics, the Jacobites and the Mar Thomaites. Racially the Syrians are divided into Nordists and Sudists.

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The Sudists are at present few in number and are fast getting absorbed into the powerful Nordists. The origin of the division is obscure and is lost in conflicting legends. One view is that the Sudists are later immigrants from Syria who settled near Quilon and retained their racial purity by not intermarrying with the Northerners of Cranganoor who had come under Canai Thoma. The Sudists retain the complexion and features of pure Syrians. Another account, current among the Nordists, is that Canai Thoma when he settled down in Mahadevarpatanam allotted the southern quarters of the colony to his dependants whereas he lived with his relatives and equals in the northern portion. The Malabar Christians treated the residents of the northern fashionable quarters as equals and intermarried with them whereas the southerners were not considered worthy of equality of treatment. Whatever the origin, the feeling that existed between the two divisions during the middle ages was bitter. Intermarriage, interdining and even social intercourse between the two were taboo. Their disputes were even carried into religious congregations. An interesting legend which explains the origin of two churches close to one another in the town of Kaduthuruthi will illustrate the nature of the feelings that existed between the Sudists and Nordists. The older church known as Valia Palli or Big Church was built in the fourth century of the Christian era. In the ninth century when Cranganoor was deserted by Christians due to some civil commotion there, a large number of Syrians migrated to Kaduthuruthi, then as now a Syrian Christian stronghold. Some of these immigrants were Sudists and they were alloted a space behind the Nordists in the church; and so the Sudist congregation had to kneel behind the Nordists. The Sudists complained of this pointed humiliation to Bishop Mar John and the prelate ordered the parish priest and trustees of the church to remove the humiliating barrier. The men, it appears, agreed to remove the barrier, but not the women. They went on a deputation to the Bishop and demanded that he should cancel his orders; upon this the Bishop said that if the ladies did not like

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his orders they were free to build a church of their own. The women took the Bishop at his word and under the leadership of a wealthy lady named Elia (Elizabeth) built a church of their own where they could worship the Lord without suffering the presence of the Sudists. With the modern tendency for fusion, intermarriages between the Sudists and Nordists are becoming common, and the time does not appear far when the Sudists will be absorbed by the Nordists. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, as we have seen, the fortunes of the Syrians were at a low ebb. With the loss of prestige and power of the Rajah of Cochin, the indifference of the Rajahs of Travancore towards Christians, the oppression of petty chieftains, and finally with the invasion of the Serra by Tippu, the Syrians were on the verge of ruin and when the British came as the suzerain of Cochin and Travancore, they found everywhere signs of fallen glory. But with the active support of the first two British Residents, the community made a vigorous attempt at revival; although later Residents were not actively interested in the Syrians, the removal of their disabilities and the wary eye the British kept on any attempts at discrimination against Christians had a salutary effect on the progress of the community. The good work done by the missionaries in the matter of education was continued by the Syrians of all denominations and literacy and higher education spread rapidly throughout the community. In the matter of female education, the Syrians can be said to be pioneers in South India. The old occupations of trade and agriculture were actively pursued, and the twentieth century found the Syrians a flourishing community, in fact economically and politically the most important in the States of Cochin and Travancore. The Syrian Church has been accused by Western writers of its want of missionary zeal. This has been true of the Syrians till the arrival of British and American missionaries. They were generally content to maintain their own entity in a country not familiar with Christian ways. This was the wisest course they

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could have possibly taken in India. Without any political influence anywhere except the comparatively small state of Cochin, if they had launched on any active proselytizing work especially among the lower classes and thereby engendered the hostility and contempt of caste Hindus among whom they lived, the community would have probably suffered extinction particularly after the commercial influence of the Syrians had waned and the Arabs had come into prominence. The main concern of the community in those days had been to keep themselves alive and for this they had to adopt many of the usages of the Hindus. Caste was one of these. Till recently, the Syrian Christians rigidly observed untouchability. Slaves and low castes were not allowed to enter a Syrian Christian household. Conversion from lower classes was discouraged and if it did occur, the convert remained an outcaste for all practical purposes. The respectable did not intermarry or interdine with him and the orthodox observed untouchability. Converts from higher castes were welcome though active work for proselytizing was not done by Syrians even among the higher classes. Only with the general breakdown of caste in India have the Syrians given up their old notions of caste. Socially the Syrians have been following their ancient traditions inherited from Nambudiri ancestors. Purificatory ceremonies after death and childbirth were performed; under the Portuguese these were given a Christian significance. The marriage ceremony of the Syrians is still performed by the bridegroom tying the thali round the bride's neck like the Brahmins, the thali being blessed by a Christian priest before the ceremonial tying. In the matter of dress, men followed the Nambudiri tradition, wearing but a loin cloth. Shirts were not used except by those affected by Syrian and European innovations. In the manner of hair dressing, the Syrians had given up the Nambudiri practice but shaved their heads clean like Syrians and Arabs. The dress of women, however, was different from those of Nambudiris. Unlike Nambudiri women they covered the upper part of the body by jackets. The lower garment was peculiar to Syrian women, nowhere else in the world the style being noticeable.

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A piece of white cloth about four feet wide and ten long was wound round the waist leaving at the back a 'peacock tail' done into exquisite folds. The modern tendency is for wearing Saris but no Syrian Christian lady worth her name ever thinks of adopting the western frock. In the matter of wearing ornaments the older generation still adhere to the ear rings, necklaces, bangles and anklets of the Nambudiri tradition while younger ladies show a marked preference for modern styles. Syrian Christian women are modest and retiring, though not observing Purdah; they combine in themselves the reserve and modesty of Indians with the self reliance of the women of the West. GOANS AND MANGALOREANS In the West Coast due to the zeal of the early Portuguese missionaries there sprang up several communities of Christians. Mangalore and the adjoining regions have been strong centres of Christianity from the time of the Portuguese and many families of the higher classes of Hindus and Muslims had embraced Christianity during the Portuguese period. The origin of the Mangalore community of Christians may possibly be traced to the Apostles though positive proofs are wanting. At the time of Tippu's invasion the Christians of South Canara were a powerful community. Tippu's soldiery all but annihilated the community. Over fifty thousand of them were deported "to Mysore. "The daughters of many of them were beautiful girls, and Tippu Sultan was determined to have them for his seraglio, but this their parents refused; the parents were then seized and their hands were tied behind them. The Chamars or sandal makers were then sent for and the parents' noses, ears and upper lips were cut off. They were then mounted on asses, their faces towards the tail and led through the city."* A large number of Christians fled to Coorg the Chief of which brave independent kingdom gave them protection and asylum. Tippu's persecution was, however, short-lived and after his defeat and death, about 20,000 * James Scurry, quoted in Captivity of Canara Christians by S. N. Saldana.

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captives who remained alive returned to Canara and rebuilt their churches. The Canarese Christians too, like their brethren farther south made a vigorous attempt at revival and under the British emerged as a well organized and respectable community. The greatest gain of the Portuguese was in Goa, the capital of their once glorious Eastern Empire. Goa, as is well known, has remained under the Portuguese to this day, though the population and geographical position make it an integral part of India. The growth of this picturesque and historic city under the Portuguese is of particular interest to us. Goa, situated on the north of the Malabar Coast, enjoys a hoary tradition reaching to the mythical Parasurama, die Brahmin warrior who is fabled to have miraculously reclaimed the Coast from the sea. The earliest name of the city was Gopakapuri or the City of Cowherds pointing to the building of the city by some pastoral tribe. The city had an eventful history and has changed hands many times. It was, however, the Portuguese who had brought fame to the city. The Portuguese who commanded the Eastern Seas in the beginning of the sixteenth century, were on the look out for a suitable site in India for the capital of their Eastern possessions. Alfonso de Albuquerque, the great Portuguese admiral and Empire builder, decided that Goa should be the capital of the East. Several considerations influenced his decision. Its central position on the coast was favourable for a proper command of the Arabian Sea and its insular position made defence by a naval power easy. Further Goa was situated in the dominion of the Sultan of Bijapur and because of their bitter quarrels with the Arabs, the early Portuguese considered all Muslims as their natural enemies and no excuse was considered necessary for seizing a port belonging to a Muslim rider. Besides, the Portuguese had an old score to pay off; when Vasco da Gama came to India in 1498, Adil Shah, king of Bijapur, sent the admiral of his fleet stationed at Goa, a Spanish Jew, to receive him but with secret instructions to destroy the Portuguese fleet. Vasco da Gama happened to discover the real intentions of the wily envoy and the Jew was captured

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and sent to Portugal where he was converted and given the name of Caspar da Gama. Goa at the time of Albuquerque was a goodly port with a fine harbour through which considerable volume of traffic passed to and from the Deccan. It was the main port of the Deccan for embarkation of Muslim pilgrims to Mecca and this itself gave the port considerable standing and importance at the time. The population of Goa was largely Hindu and the Muslim Governor with his 'two hundred Turks' tyrannised the population, imposed humiliating taxes on them and practised many exactions. The Hindus were on the look out for a deliverer, and Timoja, a Hindu Chief, lent active support to Albuquerque in his designs on the city. In February 1510, Albuquerque with a fleet of twenty sails of the line and a few small vessels surprised Goa and the port fell without a blow. Albuquerque, having gained the city without loss of a single man, was extremely lenient to the population. He gave strict orders to his men not to interfere with the citizens and not to harm a man. He promised relaxation of the rigours of taxation and assured to all security of person and property. Shortly after, the Portuguese left the city as suddenly as they took it. Adil Shah, coming to know of the fall of the port made extensive preparations to recapture Goa and in May 1510 laid siege to the city with a force of 60,000 men. The Portuguese were not prepared for such an attack and after an ineffectual resistance evacuated the city and moved their fleet off the harbour. The rainy season now set in and the Portuguese were forced to lie at anchor for better weather and supplies. As the rigour of the monsoon abated Albuquerque, reinforced with men and supplies from Cranganoor and Portugal, attacked the city. There was stiff and bitter fighting but the Portuguese won and they took the city in October 1510; and it has remained under them ever since. Albuquerque, learning by the experience of his first occupation of the city, made all haste to put the city in a proper state of defence. He repaired the ramparts and turrets. A citadel was built in such a hurry that even the principal officers and Albuquerque himself

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had to work as common labourers day and night. When the construction was completed he congratulated his men and officers, and with a view to perpetuate their bravery in the battle ordered a slab to be put in a prominent place in the citadel with his own name and those of his officers inscribed on it. But the captains started quarrelling over precedence in inscribing the names and Albuquerque in sheer disgust ordered the following words to be inscribed on the stone: Lapideh Qem Reprobaverunt Edificantes: The stone the builders condemned. Soon after the taking of the city by the Portuguese, the Franciscans aided by civil authorities started mission work in Goa. The Muslims were treated by Albuquerque and his successors with particular severity, but the Hindus were treated with much consideration. The Franciscans had started active mission work when the Jesuits arrived, and the citizens were induced to accept Christianity in many ways. Converts were treated with special favour and intermarriages between the Portuguese and Indians were actively encouraged. The Portuguese were singularly free from racial prejudices, and for them the needs of the soul were of greater importance than the pigmentations of skin. Under the Jesuits Goa became the centre of Christianity in the East. In 1534 it was raised to an episcopal see. The Inquisition was established in 1560. In Goa at least there was no stigma attached to the Parangi and his religion and many Hindus of high standing embraced Christianity and shared with the Portuguese high positions in the state. The better class of present day Goans trace their descent from one or the other of high caste Hindu families that embraced Christianity during the heyday of Portuguese power in the East. The Goans, though not so taste ridden as the Syrian Christians, have all along maintained the pride of race inherited from their ancestors. The higher classes still refuse to intermarry with lesser breeds even when these have risen to positions of economic equality or superiority. The modern tendency among the younger generation is, however, to set aside antiquated notions of social superiority and encourage intermarriage and interdining.

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With the decline and fall of the Portuguese Empire in the East, Goa suffered severe losses and the once great city, known as the Lisbon of the East, fell into virtual ruin. The rise of the Maharatha power made considerable inroads into territories once dominated by Goa and the trade of Goa was lost to the rising ports of British India. The country surrounding the port could not support the large urban population of Goa, and the Goans started migrating in large numbers to the cities that were rapidly rising in British India. By their unity and communal solidarity, no less by industry, the Goans have managed to get positions of influence in Indian cities. Bombay is the main centre of Goan immigration and they have contributed not a little to the building up of this great port and its prosperity. In the provincial services, in the Customs, in the Port Trust and in the Railways the number of Goan employees in Bombay are quite considerable; the learned professions have claimed the more intellectual and enterprising. The lower classes, drawn mainly from the farming classes of Goa, are employed in Bombay in occupations suitable to their ability and education. Goans have a particular genius for music and the culinary art. Above all they are staunch Christians, very peace loving. They offer a pleasing contrast to the Syrians noted for their thorough going individualism and excitability. The Goans are passionately attached to their beautiful but now poor country. The mother tongue of the Goans is Konkani usually written in Roman script. The higher classes are familiar with Portuguese while those who live in India have more or less adopted English. Unlike the Syrians whose long history has been marked by antagonism to the ways of the West, the Goans have been partial to European culture and manners. The better classes, both men and women, have adopted Western fashions in dress. The orthodox, especially women, still adhere to garments peculiar to Goa, while those who have emancipated themselves from the traditions of the past but not given up Indian ways have adopted the Sari.

CHAPTER XIV CHRISTIANITY IN MODERN INDIA WHILE, in the nineteenth century, mission work had been all important in India, in the twentieth century the emphasis has been on the Church as distinct from mission. As a result of the activities of the missionaries, indigenous congregations of considerable numerical strength had sprung up all over India. Most of the missions were under the control of foreign Boards or Churches and the missionaries were mostly paid employees. With the evergrowing numbers of Indian ministers and missionaries, the undesirability and in some cases the impracticability of continuing the old system became obvious. But the general poverty of Indian congregations and organizations made autonomy difficult and the problem is yet to be solved. The withdrawal of the British and the partition of India have made the problem more difficult but die solution imperative. The identity of interests of different missions in India controlled from different centres of the world led to the formation of the National Christian Council in India in 1914. The Council has its headquarters at Nagpur with 18 Provincial Councils under it. While questions of doctrine and ecclesiastical policy remain outside the purview of the Council, its avowed objects are: 1. To stimulate thinking and investigation on missionary questions, to enlist in the solution of these questions the best knowledge and experience to be found in India and other countries; and to make the results available for all churches and missions in India. 2. To help to co-ordinate the activities of the Provincial Councils and to assist them to co-operate with each other where such co-operation is desirable. 240

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3. Through common consultation to help to form Christian public opinion and bring to bear on the moral and social problems of the day. 4. To be in communication with the International Missionary Council regarding such matters as call for consideration or action from the point of view of the Indian Mission Field as a whole. 5. To make provisions for the convening of a National Christian Conference when such in the opinion of the Council is desirable. Of greater importance than the Council, is the Church Union movement in India. The pioneers of this movement were the Presbyterians who held a general Conference in Allahabad in 1871 with a view to bring about some union between the different churches and missions in India. An All India Union was at that time considered impracticable, but it was suggested in the Conference that there should be periodical meetings of ministers and elders. As a result of these meetings the Indian Presbyterian Confederation was formed in 1873 and in 1875 the Presbyterian Alliance of India. For some time the idea of an organic union was dropped, but in 1900 the American Arcot Mission and two Scotch missions decided that union could no more be delayed at least in South India. Accordingly a scheme was drawn up which was approved by the Reformed Church in America and the Free Church of Scotland, and the consummation of the Union took place in Madras on September 25th, 1902, and the foundation of the United Church of South India was firmly laid. The Presbyterian Alliance of the North found the example stimulating and eight different sections of the Presbyterian church united into one General Assembly. The union of Presbyters led other missions to reconsider their position, and the London Missionary Society and the Mission of the American Board, having everything in common but kept apart by the fact that one party came from one side of the Atlantic and the other from the other, united in the year 1905. The good

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work did not stop here, and negotiations were started with a view to a greater union with the South Indian Synod of the Presbyterian Church. The union of Presbyterian and Congregational churches was something new, but in India at least Christians felt that the innovation would be desirable and practicable. As negotiations progressed, the idea of a general union of all South Indian Churches began to gain ground. The difficulties were many, but these only stimulated the efforts of the unionists. While the idea was still under discussion the first world war broke out and the German Basel Mission of Malabar joined the Union. This gave an impetus to the movement. After protracted negotiations and determined efforts, the idea of Church Union was formally accepted by a large majority in the General Assembly of the South India United Church in 1946, and a practical scheme was drawn up. Accordingly, the Church of South India was inaugurated on 27th September 1947, when the South India Diocese of the Anglican Church, the South Indian Provincial of the Methodist Church and the South India United Church (with the exception of the North Tamil Council) became one Church. This bold measure is capable of wider expansion and the time is not far when other churches would fall into line and a Church of India will be established. In fact, the sponsors of the Union believe that the example of South India will soon be followed elsewhere and not at a very distant date all the Churches of the East and West will unite into a World Church, 'the body of Christ'. The exclusive organization and traditions of the Roman Catholic Church alone appear at present to offer serious difficulties for the realization of this ambitious ideal. The Catholic Church in India has at present ten arch-dioceses including Ernakulam and Trivandrum of the Syrian Rite, and fifty Bishoprics with a papal internuntio. The Padroado has been finally abolished in India in 1950 and an Indian Archbishop was appointed to the important See of Bombay where before the abolition of the Padroado Portuguese and English Archbishops had to rule by turn. In 1952, the year in which India celebrated the nineteenth centenary of the advent of Apostle Thomas,

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Valerian Gracias, the Archbishop of Bombay, was made a Cardinal, the first Indian to be elevated to this eminence. The Anglican Church, known in India as the Church of India, Burma and Ceylon, has its metropolitan in Calcutta and thirteen diocesan Bishops. The Baptists have four Church Unions and Councils, each autonomous in its own sphere after the practice of the Baptists. The Lutherans have six churches. The Methodist Church of Southern Asia has four Resident and Presiding Bishops in India. And the Mar Thoma Syrian Church has a Bishop at Tiruvalla. In the twentieth century peculiar problems have risen for the Churches and the Missions in India. The proselytizing activities of the missionaries are viewed with distinct disfavour. Real Christian work, by which was meant humanitarian work, is welcome but conversion is obnoxious. It is doubtful if a mere love of humanitarian work would produce zealots of the type of Francis Xavier, De Nobili, Henry Martyn, Carey, Gordon Hall and George Bowen. Anyway, Christians have accepted the challenge. Wherever there is human suffering, the missionary and the minister are there. The splendid work Christian organizations are doing to ameliorate the suffering of lepers in India is unique and too well known to be mentioned in detail here. Christians run about 700 dispensaries, four hundred hospitals and three hundred industrial schools. They conduct about 90 Colleges, 800 High Schools, 1,500 Middle Schools and thousands of primary and elementary schools all over the country. Christian organizations are actively interested in welfare problems in India. The National Christian Council, the Y.M.C.A. and the American Marathi Mission are the pioneers in welfare movements in India.

With the declaration of Indian Independence on I5th August 1947, a new era has begun for Indian Missions and Churches and what the future of Christianity in India will be only time

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can tell. The Constitution of India has been framed by able and conscientious men and women brought up in the liberal traditions of the British, and it guarantees equality of treatment to all castes and creeds, freedom of worship and the right to propagate religious ideas by peaceful methods. The first cabinet of free India was also formed in the spirit of the Constitution andit had members of all important communities in India. The first Cabinet Minister belonging to an Indian Christian community was Dr. John Matthai the well-known financier. Later Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, a staunch follower of Mahatma Gandhi and a devout Christian lady, was also taken in the cabinet. All this augurs well for the future, and as long as the present leadership lasts Christians as a community have little to fear. But whether the same liberal traditions will be followed after the passing away of the present generation, the future alone will show.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Anantakrishna Ayyar, L. K., Anthropology of the Syrian Christians Banerji, Brajendranath, Begum Samru Banerji, Gauranganath, India as known to the Ancient World Cherian, P., The Malabar Syrians and the Church Missionary Society Feroli, S. J., Jesuits in Malabar Heras, Rev. Henry, S. J., The Two Apostles of India Hewat, Elizabeth G. K., Christ and Western India Kaye, Sir John, Christianity in India Krishnaswami Aiyangar, S., Ancient India Maclagan, Sir Edward, The Jesuits and the Great Mogul Medlycot, Bishop A. E., India and the Apostle Thomas Ogilvie, J. N., The Apostles of India Panikkar, K. M., Malabar and the Portuguese Rapson, E. J., Ancient India Thomas, Dr. P. J., Syrian Christian Literature (Malayalam)

INDEX Abbanes, 19 Abdiso of Gezkesh, Patriarch, 79, 82, 83 Abdulla, 107 Abraham, Cattanar, 231 Abul Fazal, in Achaia, 19 Acts of Holy Apostk Thomas, 19 Adam, Mr., 215 Adelkhan, 117 Adesh, Revelation, 218, 220 Adil Shah, 236, 237 Adi Samaj, 216 Advaita philosophy, 210, 211, 222. Advaitin, 211 Aethalstan, 23 Afghanistan, 20, 21 Africa, 2, 44, 49, i?5 Agni, 219 Agra, 105, 106, in, 112, 114-118, 122-125, 130 Ahimsa, 13 Ahtallah, Patriarch, 'ioj Akbar, 105-111,114,118,121-124,130 Alangad, 227 Alberuni, 204 Albuquerque, Admiral, 50, 236, 237, 238 Aleppo, 122 Alexander, 4 Alexander VI, Pope, 50 Alexander VII, Pope, 224 Alexandria, 5, 7, 13, 23, 24 Alexandrian library, 97 Alexio de Menezies, see Menezies Alfred, King, 23 Aligarh, 129 Allahabad, 241 Alvars, 210 Alwaye, 227 Amboli Pass, 56 America, 6, 185, 186, 187, 196, 198, 222, 223, 241

American Arcot Mission, 241 American Board, 241 American Marathi Mission, 243 American Missionaries, 233 Americans, 187, 196 Amherst, Lord, 188 Amir Singh, 160 Amir-Ul-Umra, 131 Amouchi, 35 Amrit Kaur, Rajkumari, 244 Anabaptists, 180 Anantakrishna Ayyar, 35 Ananta Sastri, 195 Andhras, 2 Andrew, St., 19 Angamali, 83-89, 100-102, 206, 227 Anglican, 146, 230, 231 Anglican Church, 242, 243 Anglo-Indians, 177, 184

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 23 Anthropology of the Syrian Christiansf

35 Antioch, 40, 228, 230, 231 Antoine, M., 145 Antonio da Porto, Father, 79 Antonio de Rozario, Don, 119, 120 Antonio, Don, 98 Antony and Cleopatra, 135 Antony Monserrate, 107 Anupshahr, 138 Apollo Bunder, 194 Apostles, 25, 157, 235 Apostles of India, 24 Apostle Thomas, see Thomas Apostle Appa Khande Rao, 135 Appar, 208 Aquaviva, Rudolf, 107 Arabia, 5, 25, 105, 117, 174 Arabian Sea, 44, 54, 236 Arabic, 173, 174 Arabs, 7,10, 38, 44,45, 49, 51-54, 5