Modern Skepticism: A Journey Through the Land of Doubt and Back Again Part 25

I looked on the other side. I read the Secularists' Bible: I reviewed the history of unbelief; I examined the character and working of infidel communities. And what was the result! The Secularists' Bible I found to be a huge and revolting ma.s.s of filth and loathsomeness; the most shameless attack on virtue and happiness that ever came under my view. I remembered that Carlisle and Robert Owen had published books of the same immoral and dehumanizing tendency. The history of infidelity I found to be a history of licentiousness, and of every abomination. The infidel communities I found to be hot-beds of depravity. The leaders of the party were teachers and examples of deceit, of dishonesty, of intemperance, of gambling, and of unbounded licentiousness. They had no virtue; they had no conscience; and it was only when they were in the presence of men of other views, that they had any shame, or modesty, or regard for decency. And they were fearfully intolerant and malignant towards those who crossed them, or thwarted them, in their projects.

They were no great workers, but they would exert themselves to the utmost to annoy or vilify the objects of their displeasure. The facts that came to my knowledge with regard to the morals of the Secularists contributed to my deliverance from the thraldom of unbelief.

The honor awarded to Christ, and the infamy attached to infidelity, are no mistakes. Jesus has never been exalted beyond His merits, and infidelity has never been hated or dreaded beyond its deserts.

Christianity is the sum and perfection of all that is good, and true, and glorious; and atheism is the sum and aggravation of all that is vile, and mischievous, and miserable. It would be sad for the world if men should lose their instinctive dread of infidelity, and begin to speak of it as an error of little moment. It is a monster conglomeration of all evil, and it has no redeeming quality.

8. Among the lectures which I delivered in my transition state was one in answer to the question; "What do you offer as a subst.i.tute for the Bible? Can you give us anything better?" I said that I had no desire to _do away_ with the Bible; that I wished them to read it, study it, and reduce the better part of its precepts to practice. I said: "With those who would destroy the Bible, or prevent its circulation, I have no sympathy and no connexion. The Bible is a book of great interest and value; to say the least, it presents us with the thoughts of the best and wisest of men, on subjects of the greatest interest and importance; it gives us the best picture of the life and manners of the nations and inst.i.tutions of the ancient world; it is a wonderful revelation of human nature; it tells the most interesting stories; it contains the grandest and most beautiful poetry, the wisest proverbs, the most faithful denunciations of vice and crime, the most earnest exhortations to duty, the best examples of virtue, the most instructive and touching narratives of people of distinguished worth, the most rational and practical definitions of religion, the worthiest representations of G.o.d and the universe, the greatest encouragement to fidelity under reproach and persecution, the richest consolations under afflictions and trials, and the most cheering exhibitions of future blessedness. We know of nothing good in any system which is not favored by some portion of the Bible. We know of nothing evil which is not condemned by other portions.

All that is best and n.o.blest and grandest in man's nature is there embodied. We know of no good or generous feeling which is not there expressed. We cannot imagine it possible for a book to be more earnest in its exhortations to the performance of duty, or to the culture of virtue. There is no book on earth that we should be more reluctant to part with than the Bible. Its destruction would be a fearful loss to mankind. It is a mine containing treasures of infinite value. The wisest may learn more wisdom from its teachings, and the best be raised to higher virtue by its influence. It has done much good; it is doing good still; it is calculated to do still greater good in days to come. Old as it is, it is a wiser book than the books of religion that are written in the present day. It is wiser than the preachers; wiser than the great divines. It is infinitely superior to the Bibles that have been made in later times, such as the Bible of the Shakers, the Bible of Reason, and the Book of Mormon.

"It is superior to the Koran, though the authors of the Koran, like later makers of Bibles, had the older Bible to help them. The Koran is the best of modern Bibles, because it borrows most freely from the Old and New Testaments.

"The Bible is vastly better as a moral book, and as a persuasive and help to duty, than the writings of the best of the ancient Greeks and Romans. The Bible is consistent with itself as a moral teacher, though the precepts of Judaism are inferior to those of Christianity. The Bible treats man as a subject of law, as bound to obey G.o.d and do right, from first to last; and though it begins with fewer and less perfect precepts, suited to lower states of society, it goes steadily on to perfection, till it gives us the highest law, and the most perfect example, in the teachings and life of Christ. Read your Bibles; commit the better portions of the Book to your memory; think of them, practise them. Don't be ashamed to do so. The greatest philosophers, not excepting such men as Newton, Locke, and Boyle; the most celebrated monarchs, from Alfred to Victoria; the most venerable judges, with Sir Matthew Hale as their representative; the sweetest poets, from Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton, down to Dryden, Young, and Cowper; and the most devoted philanthropists, from Penn, and Howard, and Wesley, to Elizabeth Fry and Florence Nightingale, have been lovers and students of the Bible. The men that hate the Bible and wish for its destruction, are the base and bad. The men who love it and labor for its world-wide circulation, are the good and the useful. You cannot have a better companion than the Bible, if you will use it judiciously. There is no danger that you should rate it too high. If you should regard it as supernaturally inspired, it will do you no harm. Such ideas may make you read it more carefully, and pay more respect to its teachings, and that will be a blessing. Men are in no danger of prizing good books too highly. As a rule, they esteem them far too lightly. A great good book is one of the richest treasures on earth. There is still less danger that you should think too much of the Bible. The man does not live that has erred in that direction. The best friends the Bible has, the most strenuous advocates of its divinity, do not estimate the Book above its worth. They do not value it according to its worth. It is richer in its contents, it is better and mightier in its influences, than its devoutest friends are aware.

"There are men who prate about Bibliolatry, and labor to lower men's estimate of the Bible. They may spare their breath. The people who idolize the Bible too much are creatures of their own imagination only, and not living men and women. People may love the Bible unwisely, but not too well. To place it too high as a means of instructing, regenerating and blessing mankind, is not in man's power.

"I esteem it myself more highly than I ever did. My ramblings in the regions of doubt and unbelief; my larger acquaintance with the works of infidel philosophers, atheistical reformers, fanatical dreamers, re-organizers of society, makers of new moral worlds, skeptical historians of civilization, Essays and Reviews, Elements of Social Science, Phases of Faith, and Phases of no Faith, and a world of other books; my enlarged acquaintance with men, my sense of spiritual want and wretchedness when shut out from religious consolations, have led me to value the Bible, skeptical as I yet am, as I never valued it before.

"I was born in a town on a hill, from which I had delightful views of a rich and beautiful valley. I looked on those beautiful prospects spread out before me, with their charming variety of scenery, from my earliest days, to the time I left my native land, but I have no recollection that I ever experienced in those early times any large amount of pleasure from the sight. In course of time I left the place of my birth and the home of my childhood, and visited other lands. I saw rivers and lakes, and mountains and plains, and forests and prairies in great abundance, and in almost endless variety. And I compared them one with another, and marked their points of difference and resemblance. And then after my many and long wanderings, I returned to the place of my birth, and looked on the scenes of my childhood again; and I was lost in ecstacies.

I was amazed that I had seen so little of their beauty, and been so little transported with their charms before.

"And so with regard to the Bible. I was born in a family in which the Bible was read every day of the year. I heard its lessons from the lips of a venerable father, and of a most affectionate mother. I read the book myself. I studied it when I came of age, and treasured up many of its teachings in my heart. I preached its truths to others. I defended its teachings against infidel a.s.sailants, and was eloquent in its praise.

"But a change took place; a strange, unlooked-for change. I was severed from the Church. I became an unbeliever. I turned away my eyes from the book, or looked chiefly on such portions of it as seemed to justify my unbelief. I have been led of late to return to the book, and to study it with a desire to do it justice; and the result is, I love it, I prize it, as I never did in my life. I read it at times with unshakable transports, and I am sorry I should ever have been so insensible to its infinite excellences."

Such was my lecture. Those who had come to oppose, seemed puzzled what to say. One man said I had been brought there to curse the Bible, and lo! I had blessed it altogether. Another said that what I had uttered could not be my real sentiments--that my praise of the Bible must be a trap or a snare. My answer was, They are my real convictions, and the sentiments that I publish in my weekly paper. Then how comes it that you are brought here by the Secularists? I answered, My custom is to accept invitations from any party, but to teach my own sentiments.

One young man came to me at Bristol, after hearing me deliver this lecture, and said how glad he was at what I had said. "When my mother was dying," said he, "she gave me a Bible, and pressed me to read it; and I did so for a while. But when I became a skeptic, I lost my interest in the book, and I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't like to sell it, or destroy it, because it was the gift of my mother; yet I seemed to have no use for it. I shall read it now with pleasure."

On the following evening I lectured on _True Religion_. The gentleman who had come to oppose me said it was the best sermon, or about the best, he had over heard. He seemed at a loss to know what right I had to speak so earnestly in favor of all that was good, and appeared inclined to abuse me for not saying something bad. I took all calmly, and the meeting ended pleasantly.

9. And now, instead of trying to shake men's faith in religion, I labored to strengthen it. I was satisfied that the faith of the Christian was right in substance, if it was not quite right in form. And I was satisfied there was something terribly wrong in unbelief, though I could not yet free myself entirely from its horrible power.

10. The feeling grew stronger that my remaining doubts were unreasonable; that my soul was a slave to an evil spell, the result of long persistence in an evil method of reasoning; yet I lacked the power to emanc.i.p.ate myself. At length, as I have said, I appealed to Heaven and cried, "G.o.d HELP ME!" and my struggling soul was strengthened and released.

11. I had looked at the Church when a Christian minister from the highest ground, and it seemed too low. I had compared it with Christ and His teachings, and it seemed full of shortcomings. I now looked at it from low ground, and it seemed high. I compared it with what I had seen in infidel society, and read in infidel books; and I was filled with admiration of its order, and of its manifold labors of love. I tried to imitate the order and beneficent operations of the Church in my Burnley society, but failed. Faith in Christianity, and the spirit of its glorious Author, were wanting. The body without the spirit is dead.

12. I was first convinced that Christianity was necessary to the happiness of man, and to the regeneration of the world, but had doubts as to its truth. I now saw that much of it was true. In course of time I came to be satisfied that the religion of Christ was true as a _whole_; that it was a revelation from G.o.d; that Christ Himself was a revelation both of what G.o.d _is_, and of what man _ought_ to be; that He was G.o.d's image and man's model: that He was G.o.d incarnate, G.o.d manifest in the flesh, and the one great Saviour of mankind. My objections to miracles gave way. They seemed groundless. I saw miracles in nature. They were wrought on every emergency, even to secure the comfort of the lower animals. What could be more rational than to expect them to be wrought in aid of man's illumination and salvation? My moral and religious feelings got stronger. My skeptical tendencies grew weaker. I continued to look at Christ. I studied him more and more. My heart waxed warmer; my love to G.o.d and Christ became a mighty flame. I got among the followers of Christ; I gave free scope, I gave full play, to my better affections, and heavenward tendencies. I read, I prayed, I wrote, I lectured, I preached. I gave free utterance to what I believed, and while doing so, came to believe still more, and to believe with fuller a.s.surance. I used no violence with myself, except my lower self. I went no further in my preaching than I had gone in my belief, and I accepted no doctrines or theories which did not present themselves to my soul as true and right. But I came at length to see, not the perfection and divinity of any particular system of theology, but the perfection and divinity of Christianity, and the substantial perfection and divinity of the Sacred Scriptures.

13. I examined the popular objections to Christianity and the Bible.

Some were exceedingly childish; some seemed wicked; some, it was plain, originated in ignorance; some in error. Paine, Owen, Parker, and certain students of nature, came to erroneous conclusions with regard to Christ and the Bible, because they tried them by false standards. Jesus said nothing on the value of representative and democratic forms of government, so Paine considered Him ignorant of the conditions of human happiness. It was Paine however that was ignorant, not Jesus. Jesus was so wise, that Paine was not able to appreciate His views or do Him justice. Owen believed that man was the creature of circ.u.mstances; that his character was formed for him, not by him, and that he was not responsible therefore for his actions. Christ taught a contrary doctrine. Owen therefore considered Christ to be in error: but the error was in himself. Parker did not believe in the possibility of miracles: but the Bible contained accounts of miracles. The Bible therefore must be p.r.o.nounced, to a great extent, fabulous. But miracles _are_ possible; miracles are actual, palpable realities, and Parker's objection falls to the ground. Many smatterers in science object to the credibility of the gospel history on the same ground, and are answered in the same way.

Some objections to the Bible and Christianity originate in misinterpretations of portions of the Bible. The Scriptures are made answerable for foolish doctrines which they do not teach. Some objections seem based on a wilful misconstruction of pa.s.sages of Scripture. Many objections owe their force to wrong theories of Divine inspiration, and to erroneous notions with regard to the design of the Sacred Scriptures put forth by certain divines. These are obviated by the rejection of those unwarrantable theories and erroneous ideas, and the acceptance of better ones. Many get wrong notions about what const.i.tutes the _perfection_ of the Bible, and look in the Scriptures for a _kind_ of perfection which is impossible in a book written in human language, and meant for the instruction and education of imperfect human beings. There is not a language on earth that is absolutely perfect, nor is it likely that there ever was, or ever will be, such a language. An absolutely perfect book therefore in any human language is an impossibility. But no such thing as an absolutely perfect book is necessary or desirable, any more than an absolutely perfect body or soul, or an absolutely perfect church or ministry. There is a kind of imperfection in G.o.d's works which const.i.tutes their perfection. There is a kind of perfection talked about by metaphysical divines, which would be the extreme of imperfection. We have reason to be thankful that there is no such perfection either in Nature or the Bible. Nature and the Bible would be worthless if there were. But there is a practical perfection, a perfection of _usefulness_, in both; a perfection of adaptation to the accomplishment of the highest and most desirable objects: and that is enough.

The princ.i.p.al objects for which the Bible was written were, 1. To make men wise unto salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. 2. To furnish G.o.d's people unto every good work. 3. To support them under their trials, and to comfort them under their sorrows, on their way to heaven.

No higher or more desirable ends can be conceived. And it answers these ends, whenever its teachings are received and obeyed. And this is true, substantial perfection. This is the reasoning of the Psalmist. "The law of the Lord is _perfect_," says he, and the proof he gives is this, "_it converteth the soul_." "The testimony of the Lord is sure, _making wise the simple_. The statutes of the Lord are right, _rejoicing the heart_.

Moreover by them is Thy servant warned, and in keeping of them there is great reward." This is all the perfection we need.

14. Spiritualism had something to do with my conversion. I know the strong feeling prevailing among many Christians against spiritualism, but I should feel as if I had not quite done my duty, if I did not, to the best of my recollection, set down the part it had in the cure of my unbelief. My friends must therefore bear with me while I give them the following particulars:--

As I travelled to and fro in America, fulfilling my lecturing engagements, I met with a number of persons who had been converted, by means of spiritualism, from utter infidelity, to a belief in G.o.d and a future life. Several of those converts told me their experience, and pressed me to visit some medium myself, in hopes that I might witness something that would lead to my conversion. I was, at the time, so exceedingly skeptical, that the wonderful stories which they told me, only caused me to suspect them of ignorance, insanity, or dishonesty; and the repet.i.tion of such stories, to which I was compelled to listen in almost every place I visited, had such an unhappy effect on my mind, that I was strongly tempted to say, "All men are liars." I had so completely forgotten, or explained away, my own previous experiences, and I was so far gone in unbelief, that I had no confidence whatever in anything that was told me about matters spiritual or supernatural. I might have the fullest confidence imaginable in the witnesses when they spoke on ordinary subjects, but I could not put the slightest faith in their testimony when they told me their stories about spiritual matters.

And though fifty or a hundred persons, in fifty or a hundred different places, without concert with each other, and without any temptation of interest, told me similar stories, their words had not the least effect on my mind. The most credible testimony in the world was utterly powerless, so far as things spiritual were concerned. And when the parties whose patience I tried by my measureless incredulity, entreated me to visit some celebrated medium, that I might see and judge for myself, I paid not the least regard to their entreaties. I was wiser in my own conceit than all the believers on earth.

At length, to please a particular friend of mine in Philadelphia, I visited a medium called Dr. Redman. It was said that the proofs given through him of the existence and powers of departed spirits were such as no one could resist. My friend and his family had visited this medium, and had seen things which to them seemed utterly unaccountable, except on the supposition that they were the work of disembodied spirits.

When I entered Dr. Redman's room, he gave me eight small pieces of paper, about an inch wide and two inches long, and told me to take them aside, where no one could see me, and write on them the names of such of my departed friends as I might think fit, and then wrap them up like pellets and bring them to him. I took the papers, and wrote on seven of them the names of my father and mother, my eldest and my youngest brothers, a sister, a sister-in-law, and an aunt, one name on each; and one I left blank. I retired to a corner of the room to do the writing, where there was neither gla.s.s nor window, and I was so careful not to give any one a chance of knowing what I wrote, that I wrote with a short pencil, so that even the motion of the top of my pencil could not be seen. I was besides entirely alone in that part of the room, with my face to the dark wall. The bits of paper which the medium had given me were soft, so that I had no difficulty in rolling them into round pellets, about the size of small peas. I rolled them up, and could no more have told which was blank and which was written on, nor which, among the seven I had written on, contained the name of any one of my friends, and which the names of the rest, than I can tell at this moment what is taking place in the remotest orbs of heaven. Having rolled up the papers as described, I laid them on a round table, about three feet broad. I laid on the table at the same time a letter, wrapped up, but not sealed, written to my father, but with no address outside. I also laid down a few loose leaves of note paper. The medium sat on one side the table, and I sat on the other, and the pellets of paper and the letter lay between us. We had not sat over a minute, I think, when there came very lively raps on the table, and the medium seemed excited. He seized a pencil, and wrote on the outside of my letter, wrong side up, and from right to left, so that what he wrote lay right for me to read, these words: "I CAME IN WITH YOU, BUT YOU NEITHER SAW ME NOR FELT ME. WILLIAM BARKER." And immediately he seized me by the hand, and shook hands with me.

This rather startled me. I felt very strange. For WILLIAM BARKER was the name of my youngest brother, who had died in Ohio some two or three years before. I had never named him, I believe, in Philadelphia, and I have no reason to suppose that any one in the city was aware that I had ever had such a brother, much less that he was dead. I did not tell the medium that the name that he had written was the name of a brother of mine; but I asked, "Is the name of this person among those written in the paper pellets on the table?"

The answer was instantly given by three loudish raps, "Yes."

I asked, "Can he select the paper containing his name?"

The answer, given as before, was "Yes."

The medium then took up first one of the paper pellets and then another, laying them down again, till he came to the fifth, which he handed to me. I opened it out, and it contained my brother's name. I was startled again, and felt very strange. I asked, "Will the person whose name is on this paper answer me some questions?"

The answer was, "Yes."

I then took part of my note paper, and with my left hand on edge, and the top of my short pencil concealed, I wrote, "_Where d----_,"

_intending_ to write, "_Where did you die?_" But as soon as I had written "_Where d----_," the medium reached over my hand and wrote, upside down, and backwards way, as before,--

"_Put down a number of places, and I will tell you._"

Thus answering my question before I had had time to ask it in writing.

I then wrote down a list of places, four in all, and pointed to each separately with my pencil, expecting _raps_ when I touched the right one; but no raps came.

The medium then said, "Write down a few more." I then discovered that I had not, at first, written down the place where my brother died: so I wrote down two more places, the first of the two being the place where he died. The list then stood thus:--

SALEM, LEEDS, RAVENNA, AKRON, CUYAHOGA FALLS, NEW YORK.

The medium then took his pencil, and moved it between the different names, till he came to CUYAHOGA FALLS, which he scratched out.

That was the name of the place where he died.

I then wrote a number of other questions, in no case giving the medium any chance of knowing by any ordinary means what I wrote, and in every case he answered the questions in writing as he had done before; and in every case but one the answers were such as to show, both that the answerer knew what questions I had asked, and was acquainted with the matters to which they referred.

When I had asked some ten or a dozen questions, the medium said, "There is a female spirit wishes to communicate with you."

"Is her name among those on the table?" I asked.

The answer, in three raps, was, "Yes."

"Can she select the paper containing her name?" I asked.

The answer again was, "Yes."

The medium then took up one of the paper pellets, and put it down; then took up and put down a second; and then took up a third and handed it to me.

I was just preparing to undo it, to look for the name, when the medium reached over as before, and wrote on a leaf of my note paper--