doctrine of the cross, Paul's admirers have always practically ignored. If challenged, no doubt they would give it a perfunctory assent; but it cuts no figure in their theology or in their preaching.

CHAPTER VIII

PAUL THE CHRISTIAN RABBI

I

His contemporaries scarcely thought of Paul as a theologian. It was left to his successors to appreciate his greatness as a Christian thinker, but to the men of his own age he was preeminent as missionary and organizer. It was to John, the "beloved disciple," and not to Paul, that the title "Theologian" was given by the early Church. The last three centuries have been as much inclined to underrate John, as the first three underrated Paul. Nevertheless, it was the underrated Paul whom the Church actually followed.

We have already seen that the fundamental idea of Paul, as of all who have followed him as a theological leader, was the Sovereignty of God. He was probably not conscious that this was a doctrine of the Jewish priesthood, deeply embedded in the Law, which was mainly of priestly origin, and little sympathized with by the prophets, to whom God's Fatherhood made a stronger appeal. The apostle's idea, derived primarily from the Law, was also much shaped by the social and political institutions of his age. It was natural that the Roman Empire should become the type of divine government among its subjects, even its unwilling and rebellious subjects, like the Jews, And so Paul generally illustrates God's character and acts from the thrones of emperors and kings and from their courts. His own function appears to him that of am

bassador, (') and the life of Jesus on earth and his exaltation at the right hand of God are described in terms of sovereignty. (2) To him God is King, Ruler of the world, absolute despot, and therefore supreme Lawgiver and Judge. The mere good pleasure of God is the cause of all existence and events, and no other explanation is necessary or even possible. In God's relation to us, justice therefore becomes the chief element. He is merciful, to be sure, but he must exercise his power of pardon so as not to impair the validity of his Law. And, like the despots of this world, he is capricious in his mercy-"He will have mercy on whom he will have mercy," (3) and there is nothing more to be said. To violate his Law, which is holy and good, is to deserve a penalty inconceivably great; and the wrath of God is kindled against all evil-doers. As all men have sinned, all are alike helpless and hopeless before this wrath-nothing remains to them but misery in this world and in the world to come.

But we have also seen that Jesus in the Gospels presents to us a wholly different ideal of God, which John caught and set forth better than Paul. Jesus illustrates the character of God, not from the State, but from the family. God is "Our Father who is in Heaven." His chief characteristic is love of all the world, an impartial love that sends rain alike on just and unjust. If Paul conceives the mercy of God as arbitrary and bestowed on a few chosen ones, Jesus conceives God's mercy as freely given to all who will receive it. The "wrath" of the FatherGod is directed, not against the sinner, but against sinit is the revolt of purity from impurity, of goodness from everything evil. Even an earthly father, just so far as he is good, "hates" evil, but does not hate his sinning child; the moment his wrath is kindled against his child, (1) 2 Cor. 5:20.

(2) Phil. 2:1-11.

(3) Rom. 9:15; cf. Ex. 33:19.

he ceases to measure up to our ideal of a truly good father. These decided differences in ideas of God necessitate corresponding differences regarding "law" and "penalty." Paul conceives the Law of a Sovereign in the heavens as like human law in principle: it is a definite statute, whose validity rests on the will and authority of the maker, and has a definite penalty affixed, proportioned to the gravity of the offense. This penalty must be regarded as just punishment of a lawbreaker by an offended ruler, and is imposed, not for the offender's sake, but for the ruler's, to uphold his dignity and authority. On the other hand, a Heavenly Father's law is an ethical principle, an expression of his goodness and love, a demand for that perfection in his people which is found in himself. Jesus says little about penalty, and leaves us to infer its nature from what he does say about the Father's love. The inference that seems best to accord with his teaching is: since God's Law is the expression of his love, what we call the penalty of sin is but the discipline by which he seeks to turn the erring back to himself. As in nature, so in grace, penalty is the inevitable consequence of transgressing Law; it is not suffering inflicted in retaliation for transgression.

Let us pursue this parallel a little further, for it is full of instruction. God has ordained such a connection between things in nature that when we transgress a "law" we suffer certain consequences. What we call a “law of nature" is simply a uniform method in which God operates through things. If we act by another method, we experience results more or less disagreeable, and by repeated results of this kind we are taught to respect the "law" and conform our conduct to it. When, in our baby days, we put our hand on a hot stove, in spite of maternal warnings, the smart taught us to respect God's method of operation that we call heat, and so to adjust our relations to it as to make it minister to our comfort, not discomfort.

The burn was not punishment, not an act of God's vengeance because we have disobeyed one of his "laws," but a means of salutary discipline. But for such lessons in our tender years, we might at a later time do ourselves a far worse mischief.

Ethical penalty is just like that: a necessary consequence of wrong-doing, a discipline into right-doing, not an act of vengeance on the part of an angry God. There is no such thing in nature as retribution or punishment, and we have no ground to assume such a principle in God's moral order. Men have transferred their imperfect laws and institutions to the heavens, and imputed to God the shortcomings and inconsistencies and brutalities of their "justice." A loving father cannot inflict bruises and wounds on his child as retaliation for wrong-doing; but he may permit a large liberty, in the exercise of which his child may bruise and wound himself into a better knowledge of safe and right conduct. The father will do this for the child's own good, because no other knowledge than that gained through personal experience is of real or permanent value. So the Father of our spirits, we may be very sure, will condemn no child of his to misery, temporary or everlasting; but, in order to form in us an ethical character, and to discipline us into righteousness, he will permit us to incur the misery that certainly follows wrong-doing, and to remain in misery until we turn to him and seek forgiveness and righteousness.

The principles of right conduct are founded in human nature and express its highest possibilities and joys. To act contrary to these principles is to fail to realize our best, to establish a state of disharmony and suffering within; it is not to be conceived as losing eternal blessedness, except as such loss is the necessary accompaniment of losing present blessedness. The consequences of ethical transgression are sometimes spiritual, sometimes physical, generally both; and both are as certain as gravitation.