XII. CHRISTIAN ETHICS.

ROBERT OTTLEY.

The study of early Church History suggests the conclusion that the Christian religion was recognised as a rule, or fashion of life, before it was discovered to be a philosophy and a creed. To be complete, therefore, any account of Christianity must include the presentation of it as a Divine 'way of life'—a coherent system of practical ethics, marked by characteristic conceptions of freedom, duty, the moral standard, the highest end of life, and the conditions of human perfection. Such is the task we are about to attempt. To the necessary limitations of a sketch in outline, the reader may ascribe a general avoidance of controversial, and a preference for positive, statements; as also the fact that some large and interesting branches of the subject are dismissed with no more than a passing allusion.

It may be admitted, at the outset, that non-religious ethical speculation has in a measure paved the way for a re-statement of the Christian theory, by its inquiries into the source and nature—the rational basis and binding force—of moral obligation. For it may be maintained that in Christianity, rightly understood, is to be found an adequate answer to the question which all schools of thought agree in regarding as fundamental—the question 'Why must I do right?'

On the other hand, the Christian Church claims to meet the plain needs of average human nature by her answer to the question, 'How am I to do right?' She claims to have at command practical means of solving a problem which is admittedly abandoned as hopeless by the ethics of naturalism. If Jesus Christ gave profound extension to the ideas of duty and obligation, He was also the first who pointed humanity to the unfailing source of moral power. In this respect Christianity presents a favourable contrast to other systems, the tendency of which is to be so concerned with the Ideal as to underrate the importance and pressure of the Actual. Christianity claims to be in contact with facts; such facts as sin, moral impotence, perverted will, the tyranny of habit. And while she is large-hearted and eagle-spirited in her scope—dealing with all possible relationships in which a human being may stand, whether to God above him, his fellow-men about him, or the sum of physical life below him; the Church is none the less definite and practical in method and aim; witness the importance she attaches to the individual character, the recreation of which is at least a step towards a regeneration of society.

The chief point of distinction, however, between Christian and non-Christian ethics is to be found in a difference of view as to the relation existing between morality and religion. A system which so closely connects the idea of Good with the doctrine of God, must needs at every point present conduct as inseparably related to truth, and character to creed. It has been noticed indeed that Pliny's letter to Trajan—the earliest record we possess of the impression produced on an intelligent Pagan by the new religion—testifies to the intimate connection of morals with dogma and worship. What the Christian consciousness accepted as truth for the intellect, it embraced also as law for the will. Whether then we have regard to the practical purpose, or the wide outlook of the Christian system, we shall feel the difficulty of giving even a fair outline of so vast a subject in so limited a space. If the idea of Good corresponds in any sense to the conception of God, that idea must have an infinite depth of significance, and range of application. If the recreation of human nature be a practicable aim, no department of anthropology or psychology can be without its interest for ethics. It must suffice to indicate, rather than unfold, the points which seem to be of primary importance.

Christian Morals are based on dogmatic postulates. The foundation of our science is laid, not merely in the study of man's nature, his functions and capacities, but in revealed truths as to the nature and character of God, His creative purpose, His requirement of His creatures. We believe that Christ came to liberate human thought from systems of morality having their centre or source in man[456].

The postulates may conveniently be distributed under three main heads: the doctrine of God, of Man, of Christ.

For the purpose of ethics, two simple truths as to the Being of God require attention.

God is an Infinite, but Personal Being; existing from eternity in the completeness of His own blessedness, yet willing to become the centre of a realm of personalities. To this end He called into existence a world of personal beings, in a sense independent of Himself, but destined, in communion and intercourse with Himself, to find and fulfil the law of their creaturely perfection. To these free and rational beings, Almighty God deigns to stand in self-imposed relations.

Again, God is an Ethical Being: He is essentially Holy and Loving.

He is Holy; and appoints that for the entire realm of personality, as for Himself, holiness should be the absolute law. He alone can communicate to His creatures the idea of holiness; of a supreme, eternal, ethical Good. The Good exists only in Him; is the essential expression of His Nature, the reflected light of His Personality. The idea of ethical Good is not therefore due to a natural process by which the accumulated social traditions of our race are invested with the name, and sanction, of moral Law. The idea is communicated, derived from the living Source of Good freely acting on the faculties of intelligent creatures who are capable of receiving such communications 'in divers parts and in divers manners[457].'

The apprehension of moral Law thus appears to correspond with a progressive apprehension of God. Along with the idea of the unity and absoluteness of God, heathendom lost the sense of an absolute moral Law[458]; and conversely, in proportion as the Divine Nature manifests Itself more fully to human intelligence, the idea of moral Good gains expansion and depth.

God is also Love: a truth which as it helps our thought to a more profound and consistent view of His mysterious Being, so implies that God must needs will His rational creature to be what He Himself is, 'holy and blameless before Him[459];' to engage itself in activities resembling His own; to be free with His Freedom; enlightened by His Light[460]. Nor can we think that Divine Love is content with a bare revelation of moral requirement. We believe that what God requires, He is ready and able to impart; He will empower man to render what His righteousness exacts. Finally, if His purpose for man be interrupted or thwarted, He will 'devise means' for its final and victorious fulfilment. He, the Author of Creation, will in due time provide for a recreation, not less potent and complete in its effects than the evil power which has invaded and marred the first creation[461]. For we can form no idea of Love other than that of an active, energizing principle by which a personal Being reveals Himself; a Being tenacious of His purpose, multiform in His expedients, supremely patient in His beneficent activity. The God presupposed in Christian Ethics is One who displays holiness combined with power, love controlled by wisdom: in a word, He is the God of redemptive history. Thus morality finds its starting-point in theology[462].

The Christian account of Man next engages attention. We confine ourselves to an inquiry into three points: what is man's essential nature, his ideal destiny, his present condition?

We have already observed that in Christian Ethics man is not the central object of study. The moral universe tends towards a more comprehensive end than the perfection of humanity. Nevertheless Christianity is specially marked by a particular conception of man. Regarding him as a being destined for union with, capable of likeness to God, she offers an account of man's failure to fulfil his true destiny, and witnesses to a Divine remedy for his present condition. The familiar contrast between humanity as it might become, and as it is, gives significance to the peculiarly Christian doctrine of sin. It is the dignity of the sufferer that makes the mischief so ruinous; it is the greatness of the issue at stake that makes a Divine movement towards man for his recovery at once credible, and worthy of God[463].

First, then, we presuppose a certain view of man's nature. Christianity lays stress on the principle of personality, with its determining elements, will and self-consciousness. It is for psychology to accurately define personality. For ethics it is simply an ultimate, all-important fact. It is that element in man which makes him morally akin to God, and capable of holding communion with Him; that which places him in conscious relation to Law; gives him a representative character as God's vice-gerent on earth, and conveys the right to dominion over physical nature. If religion consists in personal relations between man and God, religious ethics must be concerned with the right culture and development of personality.

But in virtue of his creaturely position, man's personality cannot be an end to itself[464]. The tendency of Greek thought was to regard man as a self-centred being; to look for the springs of moral action, and the power of progress, within human nature itself. Thus Aristotle's ideal is the self-development of the individual under the guidance of reason, and in accordance with the law of his being. The question is, what is this law, and what the ground of its obligation? Personality, we answer, marked man from the first as a being destined for communion with, and free imitation of God[465]. Personality enables man to be receptive of a message and a call from God. It confers on each possessor of it an absolute dignity and worth. Personality—here is our crucial fact; enabling us to take a just measure of man, and of our duty towards him. One of the deepest truths brought to light by the Gospel was the value of the personal life, of the single soul, in God's sight. Man is great, not merely because he thinks, and can recognise moral relationships and obligations; but chiefly because he was created for union with God; and was destined to find blessedness and perfection in Him alone. Christianity therefore rates highly the worth of the individual; and her task is to develop each human personality—to bring each into contact with the Personality of God[466].

For, secondly, man has an ideal destiny[467]—life in union with God, a destiny which, as it cannot be realized under present conditions of existence, postulates the further truth of personal immortality[468]. Man is capable of progressive assimilation to God of ever deeper spiritual affinity to Him[469]. Such must be the ideal end of a being of whom it is revealed that he was made 'in the image of God.'

But the thought of the 'Divine image' leads us a step further. Whatever be the precise import of the expression, it at least implies that the Good, which is the essence of the Divine, is also a vital element in the perfection of Human nature. It remains to indicate the way in which man is capable of recognising Good as the law of his being, and embodying it in a character. Christianity, as a moral system, offers an account of conscience and of freedom.

The Scriptural doctrine of conscience represents it as the faculty which places man in conscious relation to moral Law, as the expression of the Divine nature and requirement. In a brief sketch it is enough to lay stress on two points.

1. Conscience appears to be an original and constant principle in human nature. To assign to it a merely empirical origin—to derive it from social evolution, from the circumstances, prevalent beliefs, traditional customs of a human community, is inadequate, inasmuch as no such supposed origin will satisfactorily account for the authoritativeness, the spontaneity, the 'categorical imperative' of conscience[470]. Further, the functions attributed to this faculty in Scripture, e.g. 'judging,' 'accusing,' 'witnessing,' 'legislating'—all convey the idea that man stands in relation to moral Law as something outside and independent of himself, yet laying an unconditional claim on his will. In the Christian system the existence of conscience in some form is regarded as a primary and universal fact. Its permanent character is everywhere the same; its function, that of persistently witnessing to man that he stands in necessary relation to ethical Good.

2. The language of the Bible throughout implies that conscience in its earliest stage is an imperfect organ, capable like other faculties of being cultivated and developed. Our Lord's reference to the inward 'eye' (S. Matt. vi. 22) suggests a fruitful analogy in studying the growth of conscience. In its germ, conscience is like an untrained sense, exercising itself on variable object-matter, and hence not uniform in the quality of its dictates. It is enough to point out that this fact is amply recognised by New Testament writers. S. Paul speaks more than once of progress in knowledge and perception as a feature of the Christian mind, and the faculty of discerning the Good is said to grow by exercising itself on concrete material[471]. So again, the moral faculty is impaired by unfaithfulness to its direction; the moral chaos in which the heathen world was finally plunged resulted from such unfaithfulness on a wide scale. The Gentiles knew God, but did not act on their knowledge. They 'became darkened;' they lost the power of moral perception[472].

To enlarge on this subject forms no part of our present plan. It is fair, however, to cordially acknowledge that Christian thought is indebted to psychological research for deeper and more accurate conceptions of the moral faculty; and the possibility of large variation both in the dictates of conscience, and the certainty of its guidance, may be freely admitted. And yet it has been justly observed that the question of the origin of this faculty is not one with which ethics are primarily concerned. That inquiry is wholly distinct from the question of its capacities and functions when in a developed state[473]. The unconditional claim of conscience—this is the constant factor which meets us amid all variations of standard and condition. It is enough that conscience is that organ of the soul by which it apprehends moral truth, and is laid under obligation to fulfil it. A Christian is content to describe it as God's voice; or, in a poet's words,

For Conscience, while making an absolute claim on man's will, appeals to him as a being endowed with a power of choice: and thus we pass to the subject of freedom. What is freedom, in the Christian sense? In the New Testament freedom is connected with truth. 'The truth,' it is said, 'shall make you free.' If man stands in a real relation to the Good, his true freedom can only mean freedom to correspond with, and fulfil the law of his nature[474]. The formal power of choice with which man is born—a power which in fact is seen to be extremely limited[475]—is only the rudimentary stage of freedom. Will is as yet subject to numberless restrictions, such that they seem utterly to preclude an unfettered choice. It is limited, for example, by the influence of heredity to an extent which often appears to determine unconditionally the choice between different courses of action. 'Determinism' has at least liberated our thinking from the crude idea of freedom as man's power 'to do as he likes.' True liberty can only mean freedom from false dependence, emancipation of the will from the undue pressure of external forces, or inherited tendencies. The condition of 'perfect freedom' is that in which man yields an unforced accord to the Good—his correspondence with it as the law of life. And as his formal power of choice becomes by habit more and more determined towards a fixed adherence to the Good, he begins to taste the 'glorious liberty' of a right relation to God and His Law. He becomes free with the liberty which is 'freedom not to sin,' he finds himself 'under the sole rule of God most free[476].'

Lastly, Christianity as a moral system is distinguished by her view of man's present condition. His upward development has been interrupted. In theological language he is a 'fallen' being, and the path of ethical progress is a way of recovery[477]. Man's capacity of corresponding with the ideal, of free self-conformity to it, though not destroyed, is at least seriously impaired. His spiritual capacities are not what they were once in a fair way to be; they are weakened and depraved, and man's advance towards a free power of self-determination is in fact hindered by a radical defect of will—in Christian language by the principle of Sin. The Bible gives an account of sin, its first cause, its consequences in human history. Christian Ethics make allowance for this factor; systems which overlook it or minimize it inevitably lose contact with the actual problem to be solved, with life as it is. Their tendency at best is to treat moral, as on a level with physical, evil: as an obstruction, a hindrance, but not a vital defect inherent in human nature. Not such is the Christian view of sin. For sin conditions the work of the Incarnate Son Himself. Not only does Christ set Himself to re-erect the true standard of character. He devotes Himself also to dealing with the actual ravages of moral evil. He teaches its intrinsic nature, its source in the will, the inviolable law of its retribution; He reveals the destructive potency of its effects; He labours as the Good Physician to remove its temporal penalties; He provides, in His atoning Sacrifice of Himself, the one and only countervailing remedy[478].

Such postulates respecting the Nature of God and of Man find their complement and point of contact in the Catholic doctrine of the Incarnation. As to the Person of Christ, it is enough to premise that the Christian system of ethics is intelligible only on the basis of a complete recognition of all that our Lord claimed to be. He came to reveal among men the nature, the ways, the will of the All-Holy; to present the true pattern of human goodness; to be the perfect representative of man before God[479]. He is the Revealer of God, as being Himself in the fullest sense One with God; He is the pattern of humanity, in virtue of His sinless manhood; the representative, through His organic union with our race. His Resurrection and Ascension together are the condition of His recreative action as a quickening Spirit on the entire nature of man. In a word His Person, His work, His character form the central point of ethical inquiry and contemplation[480]. To arrive at the true differentiae of Christian morals we need to study more profoundly the character and purpose of Jesus Christ.

I. Christ's Revelation of the Highest Good.

To the Christian moralist the entire universe presents itself in the light of a revealed purpose as capable of receiving a spiritual impress, and as moving towards an ethical consummation. For although man is the crown of the physical creation, he cannot be independent of it in his advance towards the proper perfection of his being. The destiny of nature is bound up with that of humanity, in so far as nature tends towards some form of ethical consciousness, presents the material conditions of moral action, is capable of being appropriated or modified by moral forces—will and personality. Thus an inquiry into the Highest Good for man gives to ethics a natural point of contact with metaphysics[481].

Christ Himself points our thought to this ideal region by presenting to us as the Highest Good, as the ultimate object of moral effort, the kingdom of God[482]. A precise definition of this expression may be left to a formal treatise; but a certain complexity in the idea may be briefly elucidated.

In the first instance the kingdom of God is spoken of by our Lord as a Good to be appropriated by man, through conscious and disciplined moral effort. In this sense the kingdom is already 'within' men[483], though not in its mature, or perfected stage. It is an actual state, spiritual and moral; an inward process or movement; a present possession. The attainment of this state involves 'Blessedness'—a word the true meaning of which is open to misconception. 'Blessedness' is not 'a mere future existence of imaginary beatitude[484];' not a bare independence of natural necessities; nor is it identical with, though it may include, 'happiness.' The instinct in human nature to which Christ appealed is more fundamental than the desire of 'happiness.' The word employed by Him to convey His meaning had by ancient usage been connected with supposed conditions and modes of the Divine existence. 'Blessedness' in fact consists in a living relation to God, in a progressive likeness to Him; in its final stage it is nothing less than the possession of God. God is the Highest Good[485].

The kingdom of God is also to be conceived as the goal of the entire movement of the universe: but while nature tends blindly towards some ideal end, the history of mankind is the record of a Divinely-directed movement carried on through free human agency[486]. For an ethical world two factors are required; physical nature, the sphere of force and necessity; rational personality, conscious of freedom and of the claim of authority. The goal of the universe is therefore a kingdom in which each element, physical nature and personality, finds its appropriate sphere, the one subordinate, the other dominant. We discern a prophecy of this result in Bacon's great conception of a 'regnum hominis' attainable by intelligent obedience to nature. The Bible is full of a greater thought. It foresees a kingdom of intelligent beings whose law is the service of God; a state in which the inner harmony of man's restored nature will be reflected in a worthy outward environment. This ideal kingdom, however, has its preparatory stage on earth. Though the present condition of it only faintly foreshadows the promised glory of the future, it has nevertheless been in fact set up among men, 'not in word, but in power.' For the main factor that makes such a kingdom ideally possible, already operates—namely, creaturely life realizing its true dependence on God, human will and human character responding to the will and purpose of God[487].

Such is the kingdom for which we look, and its Centre and Head is the living Christ[488]. He is the type after which the new personality is to be fashioned. He who unveils this world of spiritual beings and powers, is Himself the source of its movement, the centre of its attraction, the surety of its final triumph.

There cannot but result from this hope a particular view of the present world. It is characteristic of the Christian spirit frankly to recognise the natural world in its due subordination to personality, in its subserviency to ethical ends. An absolute idealism is not less alien to this standpoint than a crude materialism. The Christian is not blind to the tokens of interdependence between the worlds of matter and spirit; the fact indeed of such relation gives peculiar colour to the Christian regard for nature. Nature is precious as the sphere in which a Divine Life is manifested, as the object of Divine Love[489]. And yet, in the light of revelation, the universe cannot be contemplated without mingled emotions. The Christian knows something of the pain, and of the satisfaction which in their unchastened form we call Pessimism and Optimism. For there must be sorrow in the recollection of the causal link that unites physical to moral evil. Though pain has value as the condition of nobler phases of life, and heightened spirituality of character, it is nevertheless an evil producing in a healthy nature something more than a transient disturbance. Pain is the sensible, even if remote, outcome of moral perversity, of misdirected desire. It pervades impartially the physical universe, but seems in manifold instances to point beyond itself to its source in human sin.

And yet there is a Christian optimism—a thankful joy even amid present conditions. There is the joy of at least a rudimentary realization of the chief Good; the joy of setting a seal, as it were, to the truth of God[490]. The 'powers of the world to come' are already within reach; they can be set in motion, felt, tested, enjoyed. There is a known end of creation by the light of which all forms and products of human enterprize can be judged. Thus even the growth and organized strength of evil does not dismay the Christian; for he knows that the advance of the kingdom is certain, whatever be the hindrances opposed to it, and that God's invincible will controls and overrules all that seems most lawless, and hostile to His purpose. 'The city of God,' says S. Augustine, 'is a pilgrim sojourning by faith among evil men, abiding patiently the day when righteousness shall turn to judgment, and victory bring peace.' In his assurance that 'all things work together for good to them that love God,' that the end is certain, and human fears are blind, the Christian can be free from illusions or extravagant hopes, yet not cast down, 'sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing,' 'perplexed, but not in despair[491].'

II. Christ's Revelation of the Moral Law, its authority, sanctions, and content.

On the place and meaning of freedom in Christian Ethics we have already touched. Our formal freedom is the ground of moral responsibility—that element in us to which Law makes its authoritative appeal. From the thought of freedom in relation to a moral universe we pass naturally to that of Law.

And first, it is convenient to inquire what is the revealed basis of obligation in general?

The most conspicuous feature of the Sermon on the Mount—that first great outline of Christian morality—is its authoritative tone. We instinctively turn to it in searching for a fundamental principle of obligation, a ground of authority for Law. Nor are we disappointed, for our question is met by the consideration that this great discourse is primarily a revelation of the personal God in His holy relation to mankind. It is with this personal relationship that the claim of moral Good on man's will is seen to be uniformly connected. The Good in fact presents itself to man in the shape of a personal appeal: 'Be ye holy, for I am holy.' Morality appears as God's exhortation to man to embrace and fulfil the true law of his nature. 'Be ye perfect,' it is said, 'even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect[492].' The Good is thus at once the explicit declaration of the Divine will, and the condition of human perfection. Already the coldness of abstract Law begins to disappear. Law is seen to be not an abstraction merely, but inseparably connected with the living Personality behind it. It is the self-revelation of a loving Being, appealing to the object of His Love, and seeking its highest welfare. Obligation is transformed, and is seen to be the tie of vital relationship between persons[493].

Further, it must be borne in mind that Christ's teaching as to obligation was accompanied by the promise of a supernatural gift—the gift of a new capacity to fulfil the Law. The Good had hitherto been known, howsoever imperfectly, as requirement. Ethical progress before Christ's coming could only tend to deepen this knowledge. We know indeed what was the object of that long providential discipline of humanity which culminated in the Incarnation: how it ended by driving man to look and long for a condition of things which should no longer be marked by hopeless severance of the actual from the obligatory. With the advent of the Redeemer, a new joy dawned on the world—the possibility of goodness.

We learn then that the ground of obligation is God's will for the perfection of His creatures—His desire that they should be like Himself[494]. The sense of obligation is indeed never absent from the consciousness of Christ Himself. 'We must work,' He says, 'the works of Him that sent Me while it is day.' 'My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me, and to finish His work[495]:'—in which utterances we discern the principle we need. Only when duty presents itself in the form of personal appeal, only when obedience is kindled and enriched by feeling, can law become a bond, not of constraint, but of love.

It follows that obligation, thus founded on personal relationship to God, is absolute and independent of variation in the specific demands of Law. Human goodness will consist in correspondence to the will of God, and the degree of clearness with which a man apprehends that will is the measure of his obligation. This principle seems to preclude any idea of 'supererogatory works,' and tends to neutralise for the individual conscience the distinction between 'commands' and 'counsels of perfection,' the spirit in which Law is ideally fulfilled being that of sonship, eager, loyal, and generous[496].

The universal obligation of moral Law is by Christ connected for practical purposes with a system of sanctions. As to the Christian doctrine of rewards and punishments it is only necessary to observe, that any ethical system which has regard to the condition of man as he is, finds itself constrained, for disciplinary ends, to lay a certain stress on this point. Further, it should be noticed that the nature of these sanctions is seldom clearly understood. They occupy a place in Christ's teaching, because it is His wont to deal with human nature as He finds it: He points, however, not so much to a future state, as to a present spiritual sphere in which conduct is indissolubly linked to consequence, and there operate 'the searching laws of a spiritual kingdom[497].' The sanctions with which Christ enforces His doctrine may thus be regarded as pointing to a reign of Law in the spiritual realm which He reveals to mankind. He seems indeed to recognise the occasional need of appeals to fear, as likely to rouse the conscience and will. He sets before us the prospect of spiritual judgments acting, at least partially, in the sphere of the present life. His more frequent appeal, however, is to what may be called the enlightened self-interest of men. Their true life, He tells them, is to be found or acquired in a consecration, a sacrifice of the natural life to the claims and calls of the Divine kingdom[498]. Such sacrifice, such co-operation with God, is its own ineffable reward.

What then, it may be asked, are the motives, the inducements to action, appealed to by Christianity? how far are imperfect motives recognised? and in view of the fact that no mere sense of relation to Law is in general likely to move the human will, where does the Gospel find its 'moral dynamic'—its highest motive?

We have seen that Christianity in a peculiar degree combines the presentation of duty with an appeal to feeling. In the same way by connecting obligation to obey God with a revelation of His Love, Jesus Christ solves the most difficult problem of ethics. The highest motive is Love to God, kindled not only by the contemplation of His Perfections, but also by a passionate sense of what He has wrought in order to make possible the fulfilment of His Law. 'We love Him,' says S. John, 'because He first loved us.' We do not, however, expect the motive of actions to be in all cases identical, or uniformly praiseworthy. A practical system must recognise very different stages of maturity in character; and the possibility of imperfect or mixed motives is frankly allowed by Christian thinkers, and seems to be sanctioned by our Lord Himself[499]. It may be said on the whole that while the Gospel ever appeals to man's desire for his own good, it adapts itself and condescends to widely varying forms and degrees of that desire, by way of educating it to greater disinterestedness and purity[500]. We may fittingly speak of 'a hierarchy of motives,' and can view with equanimity those attacks on Christianity which represent it as a thinly-disguised appeal to selfishness. For the reward promised to man is one which will only appeal to him in so far as he has parted with his old self, and has made the Divine purpose his own. The reward is joy—the 'joy of the Lord;' the joy of a worthy cause embraced and advanced; of a task achieved, of labour crowned by nobler and wider service. Such joy could only be an inspiring motive to self-forgetful love, which finds the fulfilment of every aspiration, the satisfaction of every desire in God and in His work[501].

Christian duty, the content of the Law, demands somewhat larger treatment. It has been suggested that the conception of morality as a Divine code, as 'the positive law of a theocratic community,' which seems characteristic of early Christian writings on morals—is a legacy from Judaism[502]. Be this as it may—the distinctive feature of Christianity is that henceforth the Law is not contemplated apart from the Personality of God. The Law is 'holy, just, and good,' because it reflects His character. Obedience to it is acknowledged to be the indispensable condition of true union between God and His creatures. For Jesus Christ teaches us to discern in the Law the self-unveiling of a Being whose holiness and love it reflects, as well as His purpose for man.

The revealed Law is comprised in the Decalogue. It seems needless to vindicate at length the paramount place which this fundamental code occupies in Christian thought[503]. Suffice it to say that in broad outline it defines the conditions of a right relation to God, and to all that He has made. And the Law is 'spiritual[504].' Though for educative purposes primarily concerned with action, it makes reference to inward disposition, and thereby anticipates the main characteristic of Christian goodness. It also recalls the great landmarks of God's redemptive action; it sets forth His gracious acts, partly as an incentive to gratitude, partly as a ground of obligation.

In our Lord's teaching we find two truths implied: (1) The absolute priority and permanence of the Decalogue in relation to all other precepts of the Jewish Law. (2) Its essential unity viewed as a Law of love. This latter aspect is anticipated in the book of Deuteronomy, and is explicitly set forth by our Lord. There are, He tells us, two commandments: the first and greatest, love to God; the second 'like unto it,' love to man, with the limitation annexed, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.'

Thus guided by precedent, a Christian, in examining the Law's content, may take the Decalogue as a natural basis of division. It may be shortly analysed as embracing a comprehensive outline of man's duty towards (i) God, (ii) his fellow-men, and implicitly towards himself and non-personal creatures.

First stand duties towards God, resulting directly from the personal contact assumed to be possible between God and man. The all-embracing command which involves the fulfilling of the Law is contained in the words, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind[505].' In this 'great commandment' we find the widest point of divergence from Pagan ethics. Man's true centre is God. His perfection is to be sought in creaturely subjection and free conformity to the Divine purpose[506]. The general sphere of God-ward duty is defined in the first four commandments, which are seen to give moral sanction, not only to the outward expression, but to the actual substance of belief; the distinctive duties enjoined therein have been summarily described as faith, reverence, service[507]. The fourth precept lays down the principle that man is bound to honour God by consecrating a definite portion of time to His worship, and by providing space for the due recreation of that human nature which by creative right is God's, and is destined for union with Him.

The duty of love to our fellow-men follows upon that of love to God. Every man's personality gives him absolute and equal worth in God's sight, and therefore lays us under obligation towards him. Heathen moralists confined the sphere of obligation to a few simple relationships, e.g. family-life, friendship, civic duty. But the revealed law of love to man embraces every relationship. 'Every man is neighbour to every man[508].' It is clear that any adequate outline of this precept involves the whole treatment of social duty. Men have their rights, i.e. lay us under obligation, both individually and collectively. The individual has his 'duty' to fulfil to the family, the association, the class, the city, the state, the Church which claims him. The immense field of our possible duties towards society, and towards each individual, so far as he comes in contact with us, may be regarded as embraced in the second table of the Decalogue. Thus the fifth commandment lends important sanction not only to the parental claim, but also to the authority of fundamental moral communities—the family, the state, the Church. The following precepts regulate the security of life and personality, of marriage and sexual distinctions, of property, honour, and good name. The tenth commandment anticipates that 'inwardness' which constitutes the special feature of Christian morality. 'It is the commandment,' says an ethical writer, 'which perhaps beyond any of the rest was likely to deepen in the hearts of devout and thoughtful men in the old Jewish times, that sense of their inability to do the will of God, and to fulfil the Divine idea of what human life ought to be, which is indispensable to the surrender of the soul to God[509].'

But according to the Christian theory there are duties to self, which seem to follow from the relation in which man stands to God, and form the true measure of his regard for others: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.' There is a right self-love, a right care of the personality as being itself an object of God's Love, and so included in the category of things ethically good. What the Christian ought to love, however, is not the old natural self, but the 'new man,' the true image of himself which has absolute worth[510]. A moral complexion is thus given to all that concerns the personal life—the care of health, the culture of faculties, the occasions of self-assertion. Every moment of conscious existence, and every movement of will,—all in fact, that relates to the personality—is brought within the domain of Law. Christianity 'claims to rule the whole man, and leave no part of his life out of the range of its regulating and transforming influence[511].' For in every situation, transaction, or display of feeling, will is required to declare itself: moral activity takes place. Duties to self, as loved by God, are thus implied in the 'great commandment.' For God therein requires of man a consecration of the entire self, an inward self-devotion, a reasonable, heartfelt service: He asks for love. From this point of view, sin—the false claim to independence—is simply wrong self-love.

Some would even class all shapes of sin as falling under two main forms of self-assertion, arrogance and sensuality. And S. Augustine suggests a profound view of the development of the true, as compared with the false society, when he says: 'The two cities owe their being to two forms of love; the earthly, to self-love; the heavenly, to the love of God[512].'

It remains to extend the principle of love to the non-personal sphere with which man is in contact. We have seen that absolute worth belongs only to personality. But man's relation to the creatures below him in the scale of development, implies a field of duties of which ethics must take cognizance. The non-personal part of nature is ordained for subjugation by man. It is included in his dominion: terram dedit filiis hominum. Yet even in the Mosaic Law we find respect enjoined for certain distinctions of nature, which are not to be overridden or confounded. The physical order, like the moral, was to be regarded as sacred[513]. Duties, then, of this kind exist: and they are apparently comprehended in the fourth commandment, which expresses God's creative claim on typical orders of living creatures, ordaining that 'cattle' are to share the benefit of the Sabbath rest. The sixth and eighth commandments again imply the sanctity of physical life, and of personal property. And if we pass behind the decalogue, we find animals included in a sense within God's original and irreversible covenant[514]. The control therefore of human will over nature, animate and inanimate, though comparatively absolute, is yet subject to the restrictions which love suggests. For the natural world also displays the omnipresent control, and watchful providence of a Being 'Whose mercy is over all His works.' Physical life in this sphere may be treated as a means; but it must also be dealt with 'in harmony with the creative Thought[515].'

In quitting the subject of duty, we do well to mark the infinite extension given to the idea by the treatment of it in connection with the doctrine of an Infinite and Holy God. Our Lord, illustrating His exposition of the ancient Law by a few significant examples, not only opened to His hearers the possibility of a spiritual, transcendent morality, but also laid down a far-reaching principle of obligation. The self-unveiling of the Infinite Being evidently makes an infinite claim on the will and affection of intelligent creatures.

With this extension of morality we might compare a somewhat parallel feature in the aesthetic sphere.

Into the arts also, notably into architecture and music, the Christian spirit introduced the element of mystery, and found expression in them for the idea of infinity—an idea so alien to the Greek genius, which had ever contemplated beauty, and therefore ethical Good, as something essentially limited, measurable, symmetrical, exact[516]. Such a thought might suggest a line of abstract discussion; but practical needs remind us that the true range of obligation is best interpreted to us by a living ideal. As the writer of Ecce Homo remarks, 'The law which Christ gave was not only illustrated, but infinitely enlarged, by His deeds. For every deed was itself a precedent to be followed, and therefore to discuss the legislation of Christ is to discuss His character; for it may be justly said that Christ Himself is the Christian Law[517].'

The transition from the discussion of moral Law to that of Christian character seems at this point natural and simple.

III. Christ the Pattern of Character.

The stress which in Christian Ethics is laid upon personality scarcely requires further illustration. The principle of personality underlies our fundamental assumption that man is capable of free communion with, and imitation of, God. We believe that the union between God and man was consummated in and through a Person. Further, the spirit in which fulfilment of the Law is possible—the spirit of filial love—can only exist in personal relations. It corresponds with this general prominence of personality that Christianity presents the ideal standard of human character in a Person.

In passing may be noted the fact that this principle to some extent emerges in ancient systems. Aristotle's definition of virtue naturally occurs to us as admitting the function of an 'expert' (ὁ φρόνιμος, ὁ σπουδαῖος), in the right estimation of moral action. The Stoic again seeks or invents a trustworthy standard in his ideal conception of the 'wise man.' It seems possible that modern non-Christian ethics will ultimately substitute for the cultivated sense of mankind some form of personal ideal[518]. For 'the Law attains its lovable form, its beauty, only when it becomes personal[519];' and it might be said with truth that no idea can be formed of virtues in the harmony of their combination, until they are seen embodied in a person. Just as theology has in the study of Divine truth concentrated her gaze on the Person of Jesus Christ as a revelation of God; so ethics, in the effort to formulate the law of moral perfection, must study the same Divine Person as a type of character.

It is necessary therefore at the outset to recall some salient features of the great Example.

The character of Jesus Christ has been a subject of study to thinkers of every period in Christian history, and of infinitely varied qualifications for the task. Some have in the supposed interest of morality been tempted to lay disproportionate stress on the fact of our Lord's manhood. They ask how Christ can be an example to humanity, unless he be a Man like other men[520]? From a Christian standpoint, however, it is clear that the efficacy of that Example depends on Christ's being a Man unlike other men—unlike them in His relation to the Divine requirement, unlike them in His power of contact with the entire race. Thus we find ourselves in correspondence with dogmatic truth. The mystery of atonement necessitates a sinless Victim; the Christian conception of human life requires a sinless Example. The perfect pattern of mankind must in one material respect be as far as possible isolated and removed from the race He came to redeem: for sinlessness is a part of the Divine thought concerning human nature.

If again we take into account the scope and significance of His redemptive work, it is vain to compare Christ with 'other great men.' He came not merely as the Example, but as the Redeemer and Saviour of humanity. Were He merely the Example, His departure would have left mankind in even deeper anguish and helplessness than before His coming. Man would have seen the Light, and felt its attraction, only to find himself powerless to follow.

And thus, because Christ is a Man unlike all other men, we need in contemplating His character the caution that 'the Divine Reality is apart from, and even greater than what the greatest have thought of it and said of it[521].' The ideal conception of character presented either in Pagan thought, or even in the volume of Messianic prophecy, has been indefinitely enriched, and illuminated by the Life which had before been only dimly foreshadowed, or at the best darkly understood.

Now it may be said, with no violation of the proportion of truth, that the most important part of the Gospel revelation concerned man's true relation to God. In the forefront of Christ's teaching is set the doctrine of the Divine Fatherhood. He impressed this truth on men not more by His express utterances, than by the example of His own habitual attitude towards God. It may be justly allowed that our Lord taught, and displayed among men 'a new type of goodness, the filial and dependent.' In Him we see the activity of 'a perfectly filial will[522].'

It will be useful to expand this suggestive thought somewhat more fully.

First, then, we see in Christ the perfect example of filial dependence on God[523]. This dependence is not mere passivity of will—such as the record of the Temptation exhibits; not simply a confiding trust in the providence and sustaining power of God. We rather see in Christ's spirit of dependence a motive which impels Him to fearless, unfettered activity, and supports Him under the keenest stress of trial and suffering. He speaks and acts ever as One who, in each situation, is aware of the controlling hand of infinite Wisdom and Love. He has that entire security in the certainty of Divine guidance, to which no emergency comes as a surprise, no call for action brings disturbance. He knows that 'the works' which tax His human faculties, and weary His bodily frame, are such as the Father 'has given Him to perfect.' A filial trustfulness is thus the secret at once of His energy and His repose; His promptness in action and His calmness in awaiting the suitable moment for it; His unbroken heavenly-mindedness and His self-spending devotion in ministry and works of love. It makes possible the majestic serenity which never deserts Him during the scenes of His Passion. 'I am not alone,' He says, 'because the Father is with Me[524].'

In such a spirit of dependence may be recognised the true law of creaturely life; and there is nothing in that spirit which degrades or impairs the true dignity of human nature. Nay, there is something in this dependence of a filial heart which seems to chasten and exalt the character, while it quickens the intelligence of man. For in fulfilling his own true law, and responding to the will of his Maker, man finds himself admitted to the secret of the universe; he is in harmony with the purpose that underlies and guides its entire movement. So also, we venture to say, it is with the Ideal Man. 'Everywhere He sees the Divine unity of thought which permeates, embraces, and binds all things together, the spiritual and the material, the visible and the invisible, the earthly and the heavenly, in one vast economy[525].' To Him the promise seems fulfilled, 'Thou shalt be in league with the stones of the field, and the beasts of the field shall be at peace with thee.' To Him the world of humanity, and the world of physical nature disclose their inner law; He knows what is in them; He intuitively reads their secret; He can trace beneath the apparent discords of the universe the outlines of a broken, but recoverable, harmony. And thus the attitude of filial dependence on God is found to be the condition of a right relation to all that He has made; it opens the way to a true understanding of God's ways, and of that living principle of Love which binds all things in one—binds them indeed

by gold chains about the feet of God.

Next, we may contemplate Christ's character as the type of filial obedience[526],—of a complete harmony between human will and the law of holiness. In Christ the ideal of free will is realized[527]. We are not now concerned with the vast issues of that sinless obedience. It is enough to study it as embodying a principle of purely human perfection, enjoined indeed repeatedly in the Old Testament as the one condition of covenantal union with God, but once only in history adequately fulfilled in a human life. Obedience, based on absolute trust in the character and purpose of God; an 'obedience of faith,' yet in its essence the obedience not of a servant, but of a son; an obedience that refuses nothing, shrinks from nothing, questions nothing that presents itself as Divine requirement: such is seen to be the law of Christ's Life, the law to Him of action and of endurance, the rule of prayer, the principle of sacrifice, the motive of service, the well-spring of thanksgiving and joy. If the entire completeness of this obedience becomes One who wears 'the form of a servant;' the willingness of it marks the glad service of a Son. And because the fulfilment by Jesus of the Father's will is spontaneous, free, whole-hearted, sacrificial, it wins acceptance as the offering of One 'well-pleasing' and 'beloved.' Perfected by submission to suffering and death, the obedience of Jesus is stamped with the token of Divine satisfaction by His rising from the dead.

And finally, Christ is the perfect pattern of filial love. He taught the human heart that the All-Holy God can be the object of its highest affection, its purest passion, its deepest joy. In Christ we see the filial character consummated; in Him we find the union of serene repose with consuming zeal, unwavering loyalty, and sympathetic self-devotion to the Father's work; in other words we find creaturely perfection, combined with the spirit of sonship. In many and mysterious ways indeed, does this filial love of the true Son display itself: in a hunger and thirst after righteousness; in a patience which can bide the time, and endure the chastisements, of God; in an overflowing tenderness towards all God-created beings because they are His and in their measure bear witness of Him; in a faith which 'hopeth all things' and labours to make all things perfect. Such is the spirit of the Son: and we 'learn of Him' the loftiness of the height to which a filial love of God may raise human character, the tenacious strength it may impart to human will, the peace it may shed on a human heart. Love is 'the bond of perfectness,' and to wear the image of the Son is to be conformed through Love to the likeness of the Father Himself[528].

The example of virtue is thus seen in a character, of which some aspects have been just considered: and we may pause at this point, in order to form some conclusion as to the factors of virtuous action judged from the Christian standpoint.

To have moral worth, an action must be the outcome of an entire bent, or disposition of the agent. Good fruit is to be expected only from a good tree[529]. In the virtuous act the agent's personality is engaged as a whole; his whole nature is directed towards a single object. This inward unity is perhaps what we really mean by 'simplicity.' In such action, the human being most nearly approaches the concentrated and harmonious energy of the Divine Life[530]. The person acts as an undivided whole, each part of his nature is for the time directed aright.

But we are here reminded that man's nature is disordered: it can produce nothing truly good, except in so far as it is restored to harmony by Divine power. God, says Thomas Aquinas, calls us to a supernatural end, which by his natural powers man could not attain. God Himself must therefore impart the supernatural principle necessary to aid man in responding to the call[531]. No act, in short, can be strictly called 'good' which is dissociated from the direct action of God: for 'there is none good but One, that is God:'

We conclude that in a good action there is a true harmony of the different elements in personality—intelligence, affection, will; and further that such harmony presupposes the action of supernatural power on man's nature. It agrees with this that Christian moralists give to the chief principles of virtuous action the name of 'theological virtues,' and regard them as supernaturally imparted.

A good action, then, implies right intelligence. There must be an exercise of faith, which is a principle of knowledge—a correspondence between human faculties and an unseen object. Faith accepts the good as the proper element of man's perfection; takes God at His word, and aims at pleasing Him. 'Without faith it is impossible to please Him[533].' Next, will asserts itself. Will is directed towards an end desirable and attainable by effort: and thus is inspired by Hope. A study of Christ's example suggests that the highest object of hope for man is the perfection of his nature through the means appointed by God[534]. We see in Christ something of the desire, and the joy of moral achievement. When He said that 'the workman is worthy of his reward,' He pointed to the possibility of a true, unselfish pleasure in good work as such: of that thirst for perfection and self-dissatisfaction which distinguishes the true artist from common men.

Lastly, there remains that which is the dominant factor in Christian goodness. Love. There is an element of passion in Christlike holiness, which differentiates it from philosophic conceptions of virtue as a tranquil, balanced state[535]. Love gives worth to the fulfilment of duty; embraces, in union with God, the Divine aim of creation; and manifests itself in spontaneity and inventive activity, transforming the fulfilment of obligation into an occasion of joyous and delightful service. Our Lord represents this 'ardent, passionate, devoted state' of heart as the real root of virtue. Without it the most punctilious obedience is nothing; for not to love is not to live[536].

Having thus indicated the place of intelligence, will, and affection in virtuous activity, we are free to study the Christian character, and perhaps ascertain its permanent features—those elements in it which have survived the test of such wide variety of historical conditions. We have to inquire what is common to the types of Christian life which different ages, states of civilization, and forms of nationality have produced? For character is that which is capable of development in varied situations, of free and spontaneous self-adaptation to every change of environment. Circumstance proves its quality, offers it a field of exercise, and ministers to its growth.

Our task is rather to sketch a character than to classify virtues. 'The earliest Christians,' says the writer of Ecce Homo, 'felt a natural repugnance to describe the goodness at which they aimed by the name of Virtue.' Within limits indeed such a classification is possible: and a principle of division may be applied even to a thing so mysterious, so subtle in its shapes and gradations, so fruitful in surprises, as character. We may, for instance, take as a basis the principle of personality, and consider the Christian personality in its threefold relationship: to God, to itself, to its neighbour, and in contact with the hindrances, moral and physical, presented by its environment[537].

I. The Christian personality in relation to God.

The distinctive feature of Christian character consists in consciousness of that filial relation to God which Grace restores; of the spiritual bond that exists between the human soul and 'Him who is invisible.' Hence the goodness at which the Christian aims is that which will bear the searching light of the Divine eye. 'He chose us out of the world,' says S. Paul, 'that we might be holy and blameless before Him.' Thus in its essence Christian character is based on a peculiar sense of relationship to God; there underlies it a constant desire of union with God, a temper of loyalty, a spirit of thankful dependence, a feeling of nearness to the Divine presence. Were it true, as has been said, that 'the Divine service' had 'become human service[538],' Christian character as a distinct type would have ceased to be.

From this attitude of mind and will two results follow: first, singleness of aim,—the 'single eye.' The sense of personal relation to God gives directness, truthfulness, simplicity to speech, action, and thought. So far as he is true to his profession a Christian is independent of the current opinions of his age, or community, seeking only to live 'in all good conscience' towards God. The conviction of an unseen Presence guides his actions; an unseen Witness penetrates his thought; an unseen Master holds him accountable. Indeed, S. Paul seems to regard holy living as consisting simply in the endeavour to 'please God[539].'

And a second characteristic of the Christian is his view of life in the world, of nature, of humanity itself. He observes, judges, estimates all things from the standpoint of the spiritual mind. He aims at bringing his own thoughts and desires into harmony with the Divine will and purpose. He looks out on the world, with its complex social order, its fascinating interest, its appealing needs, as a sphere in which for a while he is called to move, and to labour. Into the varied tasks and interests of life he can throw himself with large-hearted sympathy, and with the greater fervour because the time is short, and the need of self-forgetful activity urgent. 'Once a real Christian,' writes Lacordaire, 'the world did not vanish before my eyes; it rather assumed nobler proportions as I myself did. I began to see therein a noble sufferer needing help. I could imagine nothing comparable to the happiness of ministering to it under the eye of God, with the help of the Cross, and the Gospel of Christ[540].'

But the world is not the Christian's 'abiding city.' He walks in it, and passes through it in pilgrim fashion, with heart detached from it and all that it can give. He cannot commit himself to the world, nor identify himself with it. He has the internal freedom of a heart that has found its true centre; he is able to estimate visible things at their real worth, and

To stand in freedom loosened from this world[541].

Thus to have the 'mind of Christ' is to judge of life and the things of time with His judgment, to see with His eyes, to be inspired by His Wisdom. So we find ourselves in natural contact with the division of character by 'cardinal virtues.' 'Prudence' or 'Wisdom' is the outcome of a right relation to God. God only, S. Augustine says, is to be loved; this world, and all sensible things, are to be used. Prudence is love discerning between the things which bring it nearer to God, and those which hinder it from approaching Him[542].

II. In relation to humanity, and creaturely life in general, the Christian finds scope for 'active morality[543],' for ministering love. The life of union with God inspires and prompts the life of service to mankind. The infinitely varied relationships of life constitute so many forms of moral obligation. Christian Justice means nothing less than rendering to all their due. The desire to imitate God is at once the motive and the rule of Christian activity[544]. And this desire finds expression in two distinctively Christian graces: the spirit of forgiveness and the spirit of compassion.

The inculcation of forgiveness is 'the most striking innovation' in the ethics of the Gospel[545]. Greek thought on the subject presents a remarkable contrast. Aristotle is inclined to regard forgiveness as a form of weakness, but allied to virtue in so far as it involves resistance to passion. The ground of Christian forgiveness is very different. The duty of it follows partly of course from a consideration of the common human nature which the offender shares with the injured; partly also from a dispassionate view of the injury inflicted. In exercising forgiveness we suppress that false self-love or partiality which magnifies a private injury. The Christian loves himself not more than he loves his neighbour. He can put himself in the offender's place, and consider what is for his highest good. He will not allow the sense of injury to interfere with, or override the exercise of good-will even towards enemies. Certainly, the sense of his own moral frailty, and of his indebtedness to Divine mercy, will restrain the Christian from vindictiveness or harshness in regard to the faults of others; while the fact of the equality of men in relation to their common Father, invests even the anti-social sinner with the dignity of brotherhood[546]. But forgiving love is no mere expression of self-distrust. It is fired by something of the generous hopefulness, the quickness to detect latent capacities of nobleness even in the worst, which is the glory of the Divine forgiveness. It 'rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth;' 'believeth all things, hopeth all things.' The Greek indeed had his idea of forbearance; to him it meant something less than strict justice; it was a virtue difficult to place or estimate. Logically, it was scarcely to be praised. At the best it would never have implied the habitual duty of active forgiveness.

Not less distinctive of the Christian character is compassion[547], and the active beneficence which results from it. Humanity, by Jesus Christ, was transformed: it was 'changed (to adopt a celebrated phrase) from a restraint to a motive.' Compassion may display itself in readiness both to relieve the physical needs of another, and to edify his character. To love one's fellow-man as one's self implies willingness to benefit him in body and estate by every means; but it is also incompatible with unconcern or apathy as to his spiritual and moral welfare. Love is communicative, and will not withhold its best treasure. Hence compassion prompts missionary activity, and zeal for moral and social reforms. Nor has 'humanity' ceased to be a restraint by becoming a motive. Christian justice contains the principle of 'innocentia' as well as of 'benevolentia.' 'Love worketh no ill to his neighbour;' it can inflict no wrong, it can withhold no good; 'therefore love is the fulfilling of the Law[548].'

Active morality has many departments. Duty to the 'powers that be'—the order of society, human law, the state, the Church: all this, into which the science of politics inquires, forms part of the obligation involved in love to man. How comprehensive is the reply of an early Apologist to the charge of disloyalty, 'we behave towards Emperors exactly as we do towards our neighbours. To wish, or to do, or to think evil is equally forbidden to us in any case[549].' 'Thou,' cries S. Augustine, apostrophizing the Church,—'Thou bringest within the bond of mutual love every relationship of kindred, every alliance of affinity; Thou unitest citizen to citizen, nation to nation, man to man, not only in society, but in fraternity. Thou teachest kings to seek the welfare of their peoples, and peoples to be subject to kings.... Thou shewest how to all love is due, and injury to none[550]!'

III. In the life of active beneficence, self-sacrifice is no 'occasional heroism,' but an 'habitual mood[551].' And yet from the very nature of Christian love it follows that there is a right self-regard, a zeal for God's kingdom in the soul, a desire for the highest welfare of the personality as an object of worth in itself, and destined to find its perfection in God.

Love to self becomes Temperance, that is, the spirit of purifying discipline. Thus, a mark of Christian character is the passion for holiness: i.e. the desire to combine inward purity of thought, desire, and motive, with the external fulfilment of duty.

This process of self-purification is both mental and moral. It includes the culture of imagination not less than the control of appetite; 'sobriety' not less in judgment and reflection than in the indulgence of desire; humility in self-estimate, not less than restraint of passion[552]. The dominant feature of Christian character in this connection is a peculiar self-severity, a deep sense of the ideal as something not yet attained, a strict fidelity to known truth and the claim of moral law, sensitiveness to moral evil, and watchfulness against even its distant approach; in a word, disciplined rule in the affections, intellect, and will. For as the Hellenist sage says of Wisdom, 'The very true beginning of Her is the desire of discipline, and the beginning of discipline is love[553].' Temperance includes that reverent care of the body which receives so high a sanction in the New Testament; indeed, respect for the sanctity of the body may be viewed as reverence for the presence of God Himself, and for the place of His abode[554].

IV. Finally, in relation to the hindrances which Virtue encounters—the stress of circumstance, the pressure of misfortune, persecution, loss, temptation, and the like—Love displays itself as Fortitude, and finds both a passive and active sphere of exercise.

As a passive virtue fortitude is the 'world-resisting' element in character. The hostility of the world to virtue is only one form of its hostility to God[555]. Fortitude is thus essentially the same in all stages of social development. When the world-principle was embodied in a concrete form, and became in the imperial power of Borne a definite force hostile to the Church[556], fortitude displayed itself for the most part as patience under persecution (S. Augustine in his treatment of this virtue naturally contemplates it under this aspect); but the precise form of influence to be resisted will obviously vary from age to age, while the element of resistance in Christian character remains constant.

The name of 'fortitude,' however, must not be restricted to passive endurance, prominent as this virtue is in Christ's teaching. Fortitude embraces spheres of action, and will display itself on occasion as resentment. Righteous anger has its source in the temper exactly opposed to Stoic apathy respecting sin—that 'loveless view' of mankind which said 'Trouble not thyself; thy neighbour sins, but he sins for himself[557].' There can be no true love of good without a just abhorrence of evil. Hence it sometimes occurs that love takes the form of indignation and holy zeal—when directed, for example, against oppression, cruelty, ingratitude, deceit, selfishness. Such resentment is a natural and generous emotion, born of sympathy with God Himself. Comparing with the Christian conception of resentment Aristotle's discussion of anger, we find that Christian teachers lay stress on the social end of resentment. What the good Christian resents is not a personal hurt, but injury and wrong-doing viewed as injurious to his neighbour or the community; such resentment is distinguished by purity of motive; in certain circumstances it is not unwilling to inflict pain.

Moral courage, again, is the form which fortitude assumes under other circumstances, too numerous to be specified. Generally it is displayed on occasions when the Christian is bearing witness to the cause of truth or righteousness before men. No Christian can rid himself of his share in the function of witness, committed to His followers by Christ. And fortitude, or manliness, is the virtue of a witness—of the solitary champion of a good cause confronting opposition in any of its forms. The name 'athlete,' which we find applied to martyrs in early times, may remind us that the task which beyond others must needs test a man's power to endure, and to stand alone, is that of witnessing stedfastly for righteousness and truth. Yet the call to bear witness comes in ways unexpected, and difficult to define or classify: it may, for example, be a man's difficult duty to withstand not opponents, but adherents and friends; to hold his own not against 'the sneers and opposition of the bad, but the opinion and authority of the good[558].' With this passing remark we quit the subject.

In the above sketch of Christian character we have confined ourselves to some salient features. We have said nothing of the gracious union it presents of delicacy with strength, of communicativeness with reserve, of energy with restfulness, of passion with tenderness. It is difficult to delineate character without giving a look of formality to what is essentially a mysterious, albeit well-marked, product. In Christian goodness we see the handiwork of the Spirit of God, and where He is, there is liberty.

It is indeed objected that this type of character is too rare, too exalted for the majority of mankind. It is said that a standard of perfection is set before them which it is hopeless to think of attaining; that men are disheartened; that Christian teachers 'ask for the impossible,' and undermine belief in the possibility of virtue. It is further suggested that the rarity of the type proves that the saint 'is born, not made;' and that radical change of character and disposition is impossible[559].

The last point may be noticed in another connection. At present we may suggest, in reply to these reflections, one consideration. The objector forgets that Christianity does not merely present a moral standard to men; it provides them with an entire system of moral education. The Church recognises different degrees of maturity and attainment in her children. It is no part of her method, though possibly an accident of a particular age or set of conditions, that she sets strong meat before babes, and appeals to children as if they were grown men. That very 'individual treatment' of characters on which the writer of the Service of Man insists, is a fundamental principle of the Christian system[560].

IV. Christ the Source of the Recreation of Character.

The subject which we now approach is, taken as a whole, peculiar to Christian Ethics. For it will be admitted that Christianity alone offers a solution of the practical problem, how is the ideal of virtue to be translated into life and practice? 'It is the essential weakness,' says a living writer, 'of all mere systems of morality, and of most, if not all, other religions, that they confine themselves to pointing out what the facts of life ought to be, and make no provision whatever for dealing with facts as they are.... It is their main defect, not that they conflict with Christianity, but that they fail to touch the problem with which it most directly deals[561].' Of course, in advancing this claim for Christianity, we imply that it is something vastly greater than a system of morals. It is a Divine way of salvation, that is, of deliverance from sin, as well as from its effects; the process by which the ideal becomes actual in life and character is also, as we have seen, a process of restoration. Christianity, in fact, professes to be a Divinely-provided remedy for disorder and disease; strictly speaking, therefore, a treatise on ethics must investigate the pathology of sin, regarded as the violation of moral order, and the fatal misdirection of desire. This aspect of the Gospel has been too much disregarded, even by Christian thinkers[562]. It follows, however, from the Scriptural account of man that he has lost something which can only be supernaturally restored: and it is the practical task of ethics to point out the means of renewal, which Divine Wisdom has provided.

The mysterious facts which lie at the root of the recreative process must be briefly noticed. Christian holiness is the reproduction in the individual of the life of the Incarnate Son of God. That this might be possible, there took place that series of events which S. John describes as the glorification of Jesus Christ. The life, perfectly well-pleasing to God, and therefore the supreme standard of holiness, passes through the stage of death. The Sacrifice on Calvary removes the barrier raised between the Creator and His creatures by sin. The Resurrection is, on the one hand, the seal of God's acceptance stamped upon His Son's atoning work; on the other, marks the final stage in that process by which Christ's human nature is 'perfected[563].' For by the Resurrection that Nature is spiritualized, is released from earthly limitations, and becomes available as a recreative force. The Ascension is the condition of Christ's manifestation as 'a quickening Spirit,' as the 'power of God.' By sacramental channels He communicates to our entire nature His life-giving humanity, as the means of our recreation after the image of God. Thus the life of the Incarnate is extended in the life of the redeemed, and by a natural and orderly growth, the character of Christ is reproduced in His members through the continuous operation of the Spirit, whose office it is to 'take of the things of Christ and shew them unto' men. He who is outwardly our example thus becomes an inward principle of life.

We now are in a position to estimate the extent to which Christian morality depends on dogmatic truths. Apart from Jesus Christ there can be no true life. The secret of holiness lies in a permanent relation to a living Christ. He, by His life and death, 'became unto us Wisdom, Righteousness, Sanctification, Redemption[564].' The example was not upheld in vain; for Christ placed within our reach the spiritual forces by which alone the pattern can be reproduced in human life. 'Sanctification' means the progressive appropriation by man of the life of the Son of God; the formation in him, by successive stages, of the very image of Christ. The objective aspect of Sanctification is clearly presented in the Old Testament; holiness there implies consecration, and is thought of chiefly as an objective work of God. In the New Testament, the idea of holiness passes from the sphere of worship to that of morality. But the Old Testament conception is not lost; it is expanded. Holiness, according to the Christian view, results not from the efforts of man, but from the outflow and operation of a Divine Life. Holiness is spoken of as 'the righteousness of God,' as a 'free gift' imparted to man; and in the first instance requires receptivity rather than activity on the part of the human soul.

The ethical significance of baptism is thus intelligible. By baptism the individual is brought into vital contact with the Source of the new life, and enters the sphere within which radiate the spiritual forces that flow from the glorified humanity of Christ; the germ of a new personality is imparted; the kingdom of God is entered. But in this new birth the work is only begun; for the 'Grace of God that bringeth salvation' has an abiding home among men. It is misleading to speak of Grace as 'an unknown factor.' Still more so to assert that 'Theology has always been celebrating the power of Grace to the depreciation of Ethics[565].' Grace has its fixed channels and methods, its orderly movement and outflow, its certain conditions, its appointed places and seasons, its definite, though mysterious, laws of operation[566]. Grace is, so to speak, stored and dispensed within the mediatorial kingdom which Christ founded in His Church. From an ethical standpoint the Church of God is before all else a school of character[567], the Divinely-appointed sphere in which, normally, the recreation of personality proceeds, in which men are sanctified by being kept in living union and contact with Jesus Christ Himself.

To enumerate the several 'means of grace' committed to the stewardship of the Church is the task of theology, as also to explain the conditions of fruitfully using them. On one point only it may be worth while to make a few remarks.

To Christianity, as we have seen, each individual personality is an end in itself. Each has a right to moral education; each was called into being that it might embody a particular thought of God, that it might fulfil good works prepared specially for it, and correspond with its own separate ideal[568]. Hence, true to the spirit of Him who was a Physician of the sick, Christianity offers her Divine remedies to the worst and most hardened natures. She believes in her power to renew and transfigure them, to achieve in them a moral miracle. Nobler natures, again, she endeavours to train up to the full stature of Christ-like character, sanctifying, consecrating, and elevating the innate capacities of each. Her healing mission extends to all men. She knows nothing of the aristocratic temper of ancient ethics, which would confine the very possibility of a moral life to the few. She rejoices in the infinite variety of typical forms which character may assume. A Christian poet has said—

Now this idea of individual perfection, so characteristic of Christianity, is in the New Testament not dissociated from the idea of a society, family, or household of God, in which alone the full development of Christian character can be achieved. Corporate life, with its network of relationships, its mutual services, its common worship, its visible pledges of brotherhood—this is God's great instrument in the edification of character. So far, indeed, as the body is divided or weakened, the pressure it exerts on the individual is hindered, and the free play of its forces diminished[570].

In the Church, then, we have the true school of character, the true 'home of individuality,' and sphere of spiritual edification. The normal course of spiritual growth is one of widely varied experiences: it passes through the stage of repentance with its appropriate works; it is schooled by the chastening discipline of common life[571]; it is marked by progressive power of submission to the leadings of grace. This would suggest an interesting line of study, and one suitable for ethical treatment, but must not now detain us. It is advisable, however, in this connection not to overlook the subject of Christian ascetics: a word which has often excited unjust suspicion and contempt, and thereby been robbed of the noble associations which rightfully belong to it.

The name 'ascetics' is suitably applied to those Divinely-sanctioned exercises which, by precept and example, Christ commended as aids to holiness—Prayer, Almsgiving, and Fasting. Reflection, indeed, shews that these ordinances occupy a conspicuous place in the Gospel, because they have a natural connection with the three principal spheres of Christian duty,—duty towards God, towards man, towards self. They are ways in which devotion to God, love to man, discipline of self, find each an appropriate expression. Reason and experience alike suggest that the Christian character, with its harmonious beauty and delicate strength, can only be the product of continuous spiritual discipline, wise restraint, and regulated effort. A feature, therefore, of Christ's practical teaching is His provision for what is, to average human nature, at least a moral necessity. Presenting Himself as the supreme example of the freedom which can control and use circumstances for a spiritual end, He lays down the threefold rule of Christian ascetics, to guide the wills and affections of those whom He calls to follow His steps.

The end of discipline is, of course, freedom: that is, the perfect dominion of the Spirit in man. Aiming at this liberty the Christian looks on the threefold ordinance of prayer, almsgiving, and fasting as a help to his development; it is to him no mere arbitrary direction imposed by authority, no vexatious restraint on lawful pleasure; but an efficacious aid to Christ-like holiness commended by the practice, and proved by the experience, of holy men in every age, and expressly enjoined by our Lord Himself[572].

It may surprise us somewhat to find Prayer included among ascetic exercises. For prayer is the ordinary activity of the human spirit in relation to God: man's natural expression of self-dedication: his effort to embrace God's Will as his choice, God's Law as his rule, God's Perfection as his pattern. Yet because prayer implies regularity, discipline, persevering effort; because it has its different parts, its proper occasions, and methods; because it is the exercise of a distinct faculty; in short, because it is an arduous work, it finds a place among exercises which seem at first sight to be of a more formal character.

This will appear more clearly on consideration of the different parts of prayer. Thus prayer is in part to be viewed as humble acknowledgment of an ideal unattained, and consequent renewal of desire in that direction. As containing, therefore, an element of self-purification, of striving after deeper self-knowledge, prayer includes the practice of self-examination and confession of sin. Regarded, again, as an exercise of affection and intellect, prayer takes the form of contemplation, and communion with God, as the supreme object of reverence and love. Thus it is evident that prayer is a real exercise, well fitted to be an education, of the soul, and arduous because it implies an intense activity of the entire personality. Even the body has its share in this exercise. It is the appointed instrument of man's spiritual self-oblation; and prayer is the acknowledgment not only that God is the 'Father of spirits,' but that the body also 'is for the Lord[573].'

Almsgiving is placed by Christ among known and admitted forms of devotion. Viewed simply as an action, it is an obvious outlet of Christian love to man[574]. But almsgiving has another aspect, on which early writers insist with some fullness. It is a means of grace, a purifying element in the spiritual life of the agent. It is not often, perhaps, that this side of the duty is adequately taught. The danger of 'charity' becoming reckless or ill-directed is real, and may cause Christian teachers to be reticent on the subject. Yet this aspect of the truth must not be suppressed. And after all, almsgiving seems to be specially mentioned by our Lord as a type of all works of mercy[575]. Love, in its effort to imitate God, need not be less discriminating than communicative. The Fatherly providence of God is in fact the Christian's inspiration and his model: and we interpret the scope of our Lord's commandment by study of His life who 'for our sakes, though rich, became poor,' and 'went about doing good,' and who taught us in one pregnant sentence the mysterious efficacy of almsgiving[576]. It need not be added that true Christian charity is ever controlled by a due sense of the dignity of human nature, and of the moral bond that unites giver and receiver.

Each of the three exercises under consideration is conditioned and aided by the other two. There is a specially close connection, however, between prayer and fasting. As a means of self-discipline, fasting has been strangely neglected. Some regard it as a burdensome restraint on the will; others as 'unsuited to a spiritual religion;' others as unduly interfering with Christian liberty. Chiefly, perhaps, the neglect of fasting is due to inexperience of its value as a condition of spiritual power, and forgetfulness of the place assigned to it in the teaching of our Lord and of the early Church. It is thus right to insist, first, on its claim to be a Divine ordinance[577]. There can be nothing superfluous or incongruous in a practice which Christ is so careful to regulate, and which He commends by His own example. But the practice of fasting justifies itself as a point of simple wisdom in the care of the personal life. Christian holiness requires, as we have seen, an inward unity of the personality, in which no one element has undue predominance. Bodily instincts and passions, the powers of thought and imagination, the bias of temperament—all have to be brought into subjection to the controlling will. And the result is a character exhibiting a due balance of different elements: a chastened spirit of dependence, spiritualized affections, subdued thoughts, sober judgment, a purified heart, a sensitive conscience, a just fear of unbridled appetite, a true simplicity. Such is Christ-like holiness; and one great condition of its attainment is fasting, chiefly in its literal sense of regular abstinence from food[578], though its forms may be as varied as are the avenues of sense-impressions. The motive of fasting may not be always the same: sometimes it is the expression of penitential sorrow for sin, or of the passion for inward purity; sometimes it is used as a special aid to prayer; sometimes, again, it is the sign of wearisome conflict with the lower nature; in any case it should be an exercise of love. Thus we regard fasting, not as mere soulless, joyless abstinence; but as a needful condition of purity, energy, vigour of will, clearness of moral insight, and capacity to impart spiritual gifts to our fellow-men. 'Wise souls,' says S. Leo, 'mortify their bodies and crucify their senses; and therein set before themselves God's will, loving themselves the more, in proportion as for the love of God they love not themselves[579].'

Our apology for touching on topics so homely might well be that the practical aim of ethics gives such points importance. There can be no excuse needed, however, in days of wide-spread luxury, and of much needlessly imperfect Christianity, for recalling and re-asserting the necessity of the discipline, as well as of the moral precepts, of the Sermon on the Mount.

V. Christ's teaching as to the Consummation of God's Kingdom.

An outline of Christian Ethics would be incomplete without some reference to those eschatological truths which occupy so large a place in theology, and have so direct a bearing on morals. We have already touched on them in connection with the Christian doctrine of the Chief Good. It remains to consider them in relation to the perfection of man's nature.

The word 'perfection' reminds us that there is a goal of the moral process exhibited in history. The visible order of the universe and the history of mankind are verging towards a consummation, a catastrophe, which relatively to us must be regarded as an end.

It is no part of our task to discuss the intermediate stage through which the kingdom of God is destined to pass: that stage in which there is to be a supreme manifestation of moral evil, a culmination of those tendencies and an outburst of those forces which already seem to threaten not the framework merely, but the foundations of society. The decay of Christian Churches, the profound corruption of social life, the tyranny of materialistic lawlessness—these seem to be plainly foretold in Scripture, and with a purpose: that of shielding men from a moral despair which might paralyse their efforts, or undermine their patience, as they witness the beginnings of these 'birth-pangs[580]' of a new order. The Christian will ever guard against such a temper of alienation, or self-isolation, from the world, as will lead him to depreciate the national, political, or civil movements of his time. For civilization is appointed to reach, through whatever convulsions, an ethical consummation, the prospect of which must inspire strength to labour, and patience to endure.

The last stage of the kingdom of God is one of glory, to be exhibited in the perfection of the moral community. It is for this that creation waits: to this, as the goal of history, that inspired prophecy points. Two revealed truths are intended to guide our conception of this prospect.

In the first place, the kingdom of God is to be finally manifested in its true character[581]: an event which must involve momentous consequences for the physical creation. Scripture sometimes speaks as if beneath the outer semblance of visible nature there lay concealed an inner glory, destined, when the semblance passes, to shine forth in full radiance and splendour[582]. The truth is thus symbolically conveyed that since man is the crown and lord of the physical universe, his final emancipation will carry with it a corresponding change in his outward environment. But this consummation, no less than the progressive movement of mankind towards it, is due to the deliberate working and intervention in history of God Himself. Naturalism points to a precarious prospect of human happiness in the future, as contingent upon 'a perfect adjustment of society[583].' Christianity does not look to any improvement in material conditions, nor to any social process, as likely to bring about an ideal state of humanity. Neither the physical universe, nor man himself, can attain to the goal of their development, or to the perfection of their nature, apart from God[584].

Again, the kingdom of God is to be purified through judgment. The exact nature of this judgment it is impossible for thought to anticipate. But the teaching of revelation is at least so explicit as to discredit any conception of the judgment which would confine its operation to this present scene, or restrict its meaning to any merely natural process. The judgment is, in fact, appointed for a definite hour, and is prefigured in definite historical catastrophes. It will be parallel to, but transcending, those manifestations of Divine power in history which mankind has already experienced. And the effect of this final intervention will be to put an end to that mixed condition of human things which it is our tendency to accept and assume as inevitable and perpetual. Out of God's kingdom will be gathered 'all things that offend;' and the collective mass of humanity will be, with whatever gradations in the stage of perfection attained by each individual, a 'congregation of saints[585].' The principle of Good will so achieve its final triumph.

When we further inquire, as we are impelled to do, what will be the extent of this final triumph, we are met by the fact of our own ignorance, and of Christ's reserve. His simple, severe statements seem intended to discourage fruitless speculation. We are thrown back in this as in other perplexities, on our unfailing assurance of God's character, and on the faint analogies furnished by the present order of things.

The Gospel speaks of a righteous dominion, the sphere of which is to be without limit. We read of a gathering into the kingdom of all that is in true harmony with its purpose. We find warrant for the belief in an intermediate state in which imperfect character may be developed, ignorance enlightened, sin chastened, desire purified. And yet we are assured that the consequences of action and choice abide, and are eternal in their issue; and we know that impenitence must finally, and under awful conditions, separate the soul from God. But we have not enough for a coherent system. All that we can affirm is that the victory of Good seems to demand the preservation of all that has not wilfully set itself in antagonism to Divine Love, Holiness, and Power. We cannot think that helpless ignorance, or inevitable poverty of character will finally sever a human soul from God. Analogy suggests that there will be scope in a future dispensation for the healing ministries, and inventive service of Love. So again, Scripture does not expressly teach that the lost will for ever be in a state of defiance and rebellion. Even in the awful state of final severance from the Divine presence there is room for assent, order, acceptance of penalty; and so far, evil, in the sense of the will antagonistic to God's righteous Law—may have ceased to exist. Truth will have prevailed; and all orders of intelligent creatures will render it homage. The final issue will be seen, and the justice confessed, of all those 'ways' of God which are 'unsearchable and past finding out.' In a word, there will be a complete manifestation of supreme Holiness and Love: of Him, whose 'mercy is over all His works,' and who will continue to stand in direct relation to every soul that He has made, revealing Himself to each either as loving Father or as righteous Judge[586].

It must however be added that what is called 'Universalism' finds no support either in the solemn statements of Jesus Christ, or in the analogy of nature. Man's very power of choice implies the possibility of a sinful state admitting neither of repentance nor of remedy; not of repentance—for character, growing by separate acts of choice, may become fixed and hardened in its persistent refusal of the good; not of remedy—for, as even the Greek moralist, with all his belief in the moulding power of law, confesses, there is a degree of moral perversion 'incurable'—that namely which ensues when sin has finally destroyed the faculties to which moral appeal is possible—desire, fear, hope, affection, the sense of shame.

With the end of history corresponds that of the individual man. The ultimate perfection of human character is not only regarded as possible in Scripture—but is suggested by analogy[587]: and of the conditions of perfected human nature, we are enabled to form some idea partly by our knowledge of angelic beings, partly by a study of our Lord's Humanity in its risen state[588].