THE SCRIPTURE AUTHORITY AND OBLIGATION OF THE SABBATH EXAMINED.
By Rev. W. M. O'Hanlon
BY REV. W. M. O'HANLON, BURNLEY, LANCASHIRE.
(Continued.)
OUR last paper was devoted to an examination of the views of Paley and Henstenberg on the question of a primeval Sabbath. This led to a consideration of the subject of septenary institutions, and some of the modes in which writers have attempted to account for these institutions, while they have denied that original appointment of a periodic time, (six days' labor followed by one of rest) which seems to us the only satisfactory explanation of the prevalent, if not absolutely universal, extension and establishment of this hebdomadal arrangement.
The topic of the primeval Sabbath, however, is by no means exhausted, as all must be aware who have made themselves at all acquainted with the literature of the question.
One method by which the force of any argument derived from the first pages of Genesis on behalf of a primitive Sabbath is sought to be weakened, if not annihilated, is, that the account given by the writer is to be considered simply in the light of a political cosmogony, and not at all as a real and veritable history of the work and process of the creation. This is the position maintained by Professor Powell of Oxford, as seen in his elaborate article on "Creation" in Kitto's Cyc. of Biblical Literature. He alleges that the principle of accommodation or adaptation to the "apprehensions, the prejudices, and the previous belief of the Jewish people," pervades the Scriptures of the Old Testament, and is to be found largely in the opening portion of the Bible. "In the present instance," he observes, "the adaptation to the people of Israel was manifestly of the greatest importance,58in order to secure their attention to points of vital moment in connection with the worship of the one true God, and their renunciation of idolatrous superstition. With this end, the first great truth with which they were to be impressed was the unity, omnipotence, and beneficence of the Creator. And then he represents these doctrines as taught by means of "a narrative proceeding step by step, in a minute detail, to assert in each individual instance the power and goodness they were thus led to recognize in every familiar detail of the natural world, and which could thus alone be effectually impressed on their minds." After stating what he conceived to have been a second great object of the author of the book of Genesis (the subversion of the worship of animals) in this, as he deems it, poetic and popular style of narration, he proceeds thus:
"These remarks refer yet more directly to what doubtless was the third and chief object in this representation of creation—the institution of the Sabbath. This remarkable observance, the peculiar badge of the chosen people to distinguish them from all other nations, was appointed them before the delivery of the rest of the law; and as the work of creation with reference to the different classes of beings was associated in their minds with each of the six days, so the seventh was identified, in the order of the narrative, with the entire completion of the work, the divine rest and cessation from it, and the solemn sanctification of it pronounced to consist in a precise abstinence from any kind of labor by themselves, their households, and even cattle. They were thus led to adhere to this duty by reflections connected with the highest truths impressed under the most awful sanctions; and the wisdom of the injunction, not less than the means thus taken to promote and secure the fulfillment, cannot but the more fully appear, the more we examine the character and genius of this singular people for whom it was ordained, and to whose peculiar condition it was in every way so remarkably adapted. The narrative, then, of six periods of creation, followed by a seventh similar period of rest and blessing was clearly designed by adaptation to their conceptions, to enforce upon the Israelites the institution of the Sabbath, and in whatever way its details may be interpreted, it clearly cannot be regarded as a historical statement of a primeval institution of a Sabbath—a supposition which is on other grounds sufficiently improbable, though often adopted."
And subsequently this writer says:
"As to the particular form in which the descriptive narrative is conveyed, we merely affirm that it cannot be history—it may be poetry."
The italics in these quotations are in the article, and must be presumed to be the author's own.
Now, it is in this manner learned critics venture to deal with the sacred Scriptures, a mode in which the most hardy of them would be slow to treat any other ancient document. The reconciliation of the narrative in the commencement of Genesis with the conclusions and facts of modern science, has engaged many pens in recent times; and it may be freely conceded that none of the solutions proposed entirely obviate all the difficulties of the subject. But the labors of the Rev. Baden Powell are directed not to the solution of the difficulties in question, but to something far easier—their evasion. He finds it more expeditious and facile to cut the Gordian knot than to unloose it. Certainly, if we are to regard the opening chapter of the divine revelation as a mere poetic and fabulous representation, and not as a real narrative of events which actually occurred, there can be no difficulty in reconciling scripture and science; for, in fact, there is nothing to reconcile according to this supposition. But a far greater and more insuperable difficulty is thus created within the sphere of scripture itself. For, assuredly, if we may apply such a principle to the interpretation of this portion of the word of God, bearing as it does all the semblance of a veritable history, and entering the details in the way which might be expected in such a history, then there is no part of the sacred Volume, whether of the Old or New Testament, that can be shielded from a similar replication and a like process. The Bible in whole, or in a great part at least, will or may be thus reduced to a series or concatenation of poetic legends, to be interpreted and understood according to any fashion which the prevailing philosophic system or organon of the age may seem to dictate or require.
It is no part of our present object to discuss the comparative merits of the several methods by which it has been attempted to harmonize the language of Genesis with the incontestable facts of science. But to treat it either as a myth, or as a poetic and fanciful ful cosmogony, is to do violence to the most obvious principles of sound and legitimate interpretation. Whether the "days" refer to periods of indefinite duration, or the limited space of time usually so denominated; whether the magnificent series of geological revolutions, whose records are written upon the pillars and foundations of the earth, took place before "the beginning" indicated in this book, or whether we are to find room for them between the event announced in the first verse, understood as the creation of the material of the universe, and the events disclosed in the subsequent verses, understood as the ordering and arranging of the present condition of our planet, or a portion of it, or whether, again, their place and period are fixed within the "days" understood as lengthened eras in the history of the system—whatever view we adopt on these points, we are shut up by all the laws of a valid exegesis, to take the account as a narrative of real phenomena, defined, it is true, in a poetic form, expressed in terms of lofty eloquence, and dealing largely, no doubt, in anthropomorphism, but nevertheless real and true. And this is our position, whatever hypothesis we may form as to the conditions under which the narrative was composed (whether from pre-existing materials or not,) and whatever opinion we may entertain as to its date. Let the Bible be explored by the lights of a sound and just, and inductive philosophy, and we may have no fear as to the results. Not a few of our modern sciences have seemed at the outset of their course to assume an antagonistic aspect to revelation; but in each and every instance, the issue of further investigation has only served to illustrate more clearly the divinity of the Bible. But in order to realize such an issue Nature and Scripture, (both revelations from God,) must each be studied according to its own distinctive laws, neither being allowed to invade the province of the other, or to supersede its rightful claims. This however by no means forbids the inquiry, so important in our times, Can the scriptural narrative of creation be so interpreted, as that, while no sacrifice is made of the principle now stated, its several parts shall seem to be in perfect unison with the conclusions which are necessitated by our inquiries in another field? It is perfectly possible that the current interpretation of certain portions of the Bible may be false; but as the word of God, it is utterly impossible that any portion should be found incapable of being reconciled with truth, in whatever department that truth presents itself.
Having said so much, however, we must not advance further in this line of observation. We believe there must be a close and intelligible connection between the reason assigned in the fourth commandment for the observance of the seventh day, and the order and sequence of time mentioned in the beginning of Genesis. The "days" must mean the same thing in both places, if there is any validity or coherence in the language of the decalogue. It has been suggested by a recent writer, that the "day" of Genesis might be used for an indefinite period, and yet this term in the fourth commandment be employed to denote a natural day; and that still the language of the decalogue enforcing the observance of a seventh portion of our time for sacred uses by a reference to a sevenfold division and order of the epochs of creation, might be perfectly warrantable and just. But we confess our inability to take this view of the matter. It is the dedication of each revolving seventh day, and not merely of a seventh portion of existence, that is enjoined in the Sinaitic law, and the measure and interval of time are alike ordered by a consideration of the time of the creative process and the time of the Creator's rest; and this in such a manner that we cannot but regard the Divine as a model and exemplar of the human. The reasoning of Mr. Powell, (if such it may be called,) presents another instance of the way in which men of great ability impose upon their own understanding, when there is some favorite scheme of opinion to be supported. Who can for a moment seriously believe that the great fundamental truth of religion could be rendered more impressive, and clothed in more commanding forms, by having recourse to deceptive representations?—and deceptive they must be regarded, since they were presented in the guise of veritable history, and made the basis of actual and positive re-
ligious institutes. Does this not seem very much like doing evil that good may come? How these truths could be said to be, by this method, "impressed under the most awful sanctions," and the means thus taken to promote and secure the fulfillment of Sabbath observance be regarded as proof of "wisdom," we are entirely unable to discover. In our estimation, the whole would only exemplify the sinister expedient to which human policy resorts in its weakness, rather than the wisdom and righteousness that must ever characterize the legislation of God in his majesty and strength. Besides, if the "work of creation with reference to the different classes of beings was associated in the minds" of the Jews "with each of the six days," this could be only as the result of oral or written tradition, credited as fact and history, before the time of Moses, or at all events, before the composition of Genesis in its present form: and if this be admitted, there is no possible ground to doubt that "the seventh day was identified with the entire completion of the work, the divine rest and cessation from it," also, before the era when the inspired narrative was penned. The weakness of the reasoning exhibited in this part of the article, can be paralleled only by the reckless daring displayed in the closing assertion—"It cannot be history—it may be poetry." If the first chapter of Genesis be poetry, then what of the second and following chapters? And where is the point of transition from fiction to fact, from the creations of fancy to the sober realities of truth? The writer of the book has certainly furnished no marks or criteria, by which this important and vital point can be determined: nor does it seem possible to us, except by the aid of an hypothesis which begs the whole question, to draw any line of distinction where the style of narration, or of apparent narration, is throughout so uniform, so straight forward, and so simple. In conclusion we must say, that assumptions should not be mistaken for arguments, or preconceived theories for the sound conclusions of a patient and extended process of induction. We are greatly in need of a more faithful application of the great Baconian principle in the sphere of theological, not less than that of ordinary and natural science. This would terminate many a controversy which has agitated the church; and while it would tend to dry up the sources of logomachy, it would open wide the fountains and well springs of truth.
It constitutes no part of our present object to endeavor to define the mode in which the Sabbath was at first observed. But regarding this primeval appointment as the foundation-stone of the whole structure of Divine legislation upon the subject, it is important to keep in view the three inscriptions, or emblematic devices, it contains.
It speaks of rest, of blessing, and of sanctification. God "rested from all work." The figure, no doubt, is anthropomorphic; but there is a real solid fact beneath, and one full of meaning and suggestiveness. We might have supposed that the Omnipotent, by a single fiat, would have at once summoned into being the entire creation in its full magnificence and perfection, instead of extending the creative process over a series of days. How did He need repose who "fainteth not neither is weary," who "worketh hitherto," probably in the actual formation of new worlds and system, but certainly in what may be deemed equivalent, as regards power and majesty, in the sustenation and government of those which exist. But the whole work was thus lengthened out and thus closed and crowned, perhaps for other reasons at present inscrutable to us, but obviously for this special one, that we might have a Divine model and law of successive labor and repose. And this repose, it is manifest, was one associated with blessings adapted to the lofty nature and destinies of the new made creature. It would indeed be a style unworthy of inspiration, as well as a sad mockery of the high faculties and yearnings of the great and holy soul, fresh from its Maker's hand, and bearing upon it the Divine stamp and impress, to speak thus of blessing and setting a period, the benefits and privileges of which terminated and centered on the59mere animal nature and condition of man. Doubtless the day was encircled by a spiritual halo and brightness, such as could be caught only from the light of the celestial throne falling upon it in fuller, richer radiance, than upon any other of the seven.
Doubtless it was a day in which heaven seemed to bend down more sweetly, and to embrace more lovingly, the new made world with its garden of delights, because on this day man, freed from even the slightest earthly cares, and ceasing from "his own works as God did from his," was wholly absorbed in the more elevated engagements and the more rapturous pleasures of immediate, uninterrupted communion with his Father, God.
As yet the creation had not been doomed to groan beneath the burden of human transgression, and to long for deliverance from the "vanity" to which it has since become "subject." As yet, it found a voice and interpreter in man, still unfallen, and with a soul attuned to perfect harmony with its every tone and utterance. He, the high-priest of Nature, offered up her morning and even incense, fresh and untainted, to the God of all.
"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty! Thine this universal frame.
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then!
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens,
To us invisible, or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine."
But it was in the serene, unclouded heights and depths of his own being, in the brighter and more divine forms of existence within, in the glorious intuitions and visions of his own soul, that he found the chief incentives of his noblest and purest sacrifice of thanksgiving and adoration. And what had the external creation, with all its revelations been to him, but for this richer apocalypse within? A blank, an enigma. In his own breast he found the key that unlocked all its varied treasures—the cipher which explained all the hieroglyphs that God had hung up on sun and star, and written all over earth and sky. It was thus he read and understood Nature, then not as now an opaque body (because the eye of man is covered with an earthly film,) but a luminous and transparent thing, through which God shone forth in visible splendor, and guided, as in primal Epiphany, the worshiper of earth to his own shrine and dwelling place.
But it was on the day "chosen of God and precious," that Nature would seem to wear her brightest aspects, and fulfill her loftiest ministries; that the thoughts and faculties of man would find their freest and fullest scope heavenward; that Jehovah himself would grant the most impressive signals of his presence, and communicate the highest lessons of his wisdom; and that the primeval pair, kneeling at the altar of Eden, would experience the deepest, divinest thrill, as by the electric touch of God, fulfilling his gracious promise to sanctify and bless this day.
Man fell "like Lucifer, son of the morning." The star sinks downward from its sphere. But it is not left to perish in utter darkness. There is a mysterious hope thrown upon the pathway of humanity. There still rests upon it the lustre and beauty of the Sabbath. This became to man, in his altered circumstances, the memorial of the past, the solace of the present, and the bright harbinger of the future. On it, the curse of toil was removed and Paradise was already half regained.
Distant gleams of a purer Eden would shoot through the gloom and fall upon his spirit. Its gates, on this day, seemed to open and invite his approach, and no cherubic sword waved its stern rebuke and no prohibition there. Then, too, he beheld another fairer and richer "tree of life, in the midst of the paradise of God;" and, standing at the entrance, the repenting and returning soul called the Sabbath a delight; and, believing, it would there enter into rest.