So the Christian Church says to us, of the New Testament, “Here is a book concerning which we testify that the writings in it are profitable for doctrine; that its writers have superior knowledge in regard to spiritual things; that they are inspired men, who have been taken up into a region where most men have never gone, and seen what most men have never seen, and therefore know more than most of us about spiritual truth.”
But you may say, “If inspiration gives knowledge, and these writers are inspired, then they do more than believe or [pg 121] think what they say about God, duty, and immortality. They know; and if they know, does not that mean that they are infallible?” No, knowledge is not infallibility. It is true that inspiration gives knowledge, while speculation only gives opinion. This is the reason why inspired men speak with authority, and philosophers without it. But knowledge, though it gives authority, does not give infallibility.
A Frenchman knows the French language; still he may make mistakes in speaking it. The man from California knows that country, but he may be mistaken about it. Thus, if these writers are not infallible, they may make mistakes; and if so, how are we to distinguish between their truth and their error? This is a fair question: let us try to answer it.
Let us return to our former comparison of travellers and their guide. How are you to distinguish between your guide's knowledge and his errors?
Probably, when your guide begins to be uncertain as to the way, he will show his uncertainty in his behavior. He will become doubtful, hesitating, undecided; he will, by and by, supposing him honest, begin to express his uncertainty, and say, “I am not quite sure of this path.”
It is just so with inspired writers. While their inspiration runs in a full tide, they speak confidently; they are distinct in their statements.
Again, if your guide begins to speak of things outside of his province, he does not carry much authority. If Leatherstocking discusses Shakespeare, or the pilot begins to talk about politics, his opinions carry no weight except what is inherent to them.
So when the writers of the Bible, leaving themes of religion and morals, describe natural objects, as the leviathan or behemoth, we give no more credit to their descriptions than we should to those of any other writer of their day.
A question would arise here whether history was a subject of inspiration or not; that is, whether an inspired writer, [pg 122] when he comes to speak of historic facts, has any more authority than another. There may be some way by which past events might be presented by inspiration to the mind of one caught up by the spirit into another world. But the writers of the Old and New Testament are careless about dates and numbers, and do not seem to be made accurate by any special gift. I should, therefore, incline to the opinion that the historic books of the Bible have no authority except that of their reasonableness and conformity to what we might believe on other grounds. As fragments of history, coming from so remote a past, they are invaluable, when we treat them as simple, honest records of what was then believed or known.
Take, for instance, the story of the deluge, and compare it with similar stories in other mythologies. We find it so corroborated by these, that we may believe that there is a basis of reality in it.
§ 8. The Christian Prepossession.
It is a great thing to read a book with expectation instead of distrust. Expectation opens the mind to light, and makes it easy to see. Distrust closes it. If I have read Shakespeare till I feel sure of his poetic inspiration, then I read with expectation all he writes; I am looking for truth and beauty, and so I find it. If I had never read Shakespeare, nor heard of him, and Hamlet were put into my hand, I should probably be displeased with something or other, and throw it aside, and so lose the deepness and loveliness of that wonderful creation. How much we find in the words of Jesus and Paul, because we read them with expectation and hope! because we read them always looking for what is deep and high!
Nevertheless many persons recommend a contrary course. They say that we ought to forget all that has been told us about the Book, and read it as if we had never seen it before. But this method is neither practicable nor desirable. It is impossible to look at the Bible as though it were an unknown [pg 123] book; impossible to forget that it is the text book of Christianity; regarded as sacred by millions of our fellow-men; the source of spiritual and moral life to the world for the last fifteen hundred years; that our parents and friends have found in it strength for duty, comfort in trial, hope in the hour of death. You might as well tell the child who begins to study geography to forget that he lives in America, or when he studies the history of the United States, to forget that it is the history of his own land. Nor would it be desirable to study the New Testament thus. For it is this grand belief concerning it which makes us desire to study it at all. Were it not for this belief it might be occasionally read by a student in the interest of science, but never by the mass of the community. Faith in its divine origin and divine purpose, causes it to be read in families, schools, churches, to be used as a manual of prayer in the closet, and to grow familiar in every home. The Book is surrounded by a traditional halo of wonder, reverence, and hope, and this gives us motive and power with which to read it. If a cold criticism, a sceptical spirit, shall ever succeed in causing the New Testament to be regarded as a common book, on the natural plane of human thought, full of errors and imperfections, inspired only as Plato is inspired, then it will be read as Plato is read, that is, by one man in a million. It is not desirable to lose the reverence which causes us to expect extraordinary truth and good in certain books, men, and institutions; for so we lose the best motive power of the soul; so life becomes tame, the day empty, and events unmeaning.
It is, therefore, perfectly right for the Church to surround Christ and Christianity with this divine aureola of reverence and wonder, not exaggerating it, but neither understating it. For this wonder and reverence, when legitimate, is a great treasure of spiritual life, animating and elevating, which the Church possesses in order that it may communicate it. It [pg 124] is continually proclaiming its good news; constantly asserting that through Christ God has given it a divine peace; that in Christ there is a marvellous truth and beauty; and that the Gospels and Epistles, which contain his life and truth, have a strange power of raising us above ourselves, and bringing us into communion with an eternal world. When this is said, not by rote, or as a mere form, but from sincere conviction, the spirit of faith creates faith, and faith is the great motive which leads to action.
As it is the duty of the Church to excite our interest in the New Testament, by declaring its own love and respect for it, so it is right for the student of the New Testament to give a certain preliminary weight to this testimony of the Church in commencing his study. This is what we call the Christian prepossession. And it regards the New Testament exactly as when a friend whose judgment we respect earnestly recommends to us some book which he has read, and which has done him good. He recommends it to us as a good book, and he recommends it with enthusiasm. His enthusiasm produces in us a desire to become acquainted with the book, and a certain hope that we shall find in it what our friend has found. This hope leads on towards fruition, and is one of its conditions. It ought not, therefore, to be relinquished; but neither should it lead us to accept blindly everything which we