The Eliminator; or, Skeleton Keys to Sacerdotal Secrets

It is hardly necessary to mention the craze of “Millerism” in 1843 in this country, when many, in perfect consistency with their belief, gave up their possessions and prepared their “ascension robes,” and waited anxiously for the end. If the clergy of all denominations should now unite in proclaiming just what Jesus predicted concerning the end of the world, just in proportion as people sincerely believed the message they would at once literally accept the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount, and act accordingly.

This leads us to the inevitable conclusion that much of what Jesus taught can only be understood and justified by his particular view and representation of the almost immediate end of all earthly things; and this understanding of the subject is much more creditable to Jesus as a teacher than the assumption that he failed to make himself understood, and that he did not mean what he said, though both he and his disciples practically in their lives exemplified the unworldliness and asceticism that he preached.

We submit as a key to the enigmas of the Sermon on the Mount and other hard sayings attributed to Jesus that he and his disciples believed and taught that this world was about to be made new, that the then present order was about to terminate, and that therefore earthly possessions and pursuits were of no consequence, and even the domestic relations were of little account.

That the teachings and examples of Jesus (in many respects) cannot be accepted by the people of the nineteenth century without a complete overthrow of existing institutions and forms of civilization is a self-evident fact. We must abandon all industrial pursuits, change all our views of the rights of property, adopt the communistic principle and policy, and lead lowly lives of self-denial and bodily mortification and discomfort.

We repeat that the teachings and example of Jesus were natural and rational from his conviction of the approaching end of all things.

It would be easy to point out many other things in the Sermon on the Mount equally defective and offensive to reason and common sense, but we forbear. We have dwelt upon this celebrated sermon at such length because it is held up as a model of moral teaching. We pronounce it a very inferior compilation of things good and bad, not at all corresponding with proper ideas of practical morality, and not adapted to the present necessities of civilization.

What is said of the Sermon on the Mount may be said of many portions of the alleged teachings of Jesus. We mention only a few instances. The parable of the Unjust Steward justifies a worldly cunning and a decidedly dishonest act (Luke 16:5-8). Jesus commends him, saying that “he had done wisely” in cheating his principal, and advises his disciples to “make to them friends of the mammon of unrighteousness.” A more grossly dishonest act could not have been committed by a person acting in a fiduciary capacity. To follow his example would overthrow all business integrity and lead to universal knavery.

In the parable of the Unjust Judge he gives a very low and anthropomorphic view of God and the efficacy of prayer. It is this: A certain woman went to a judge for a certain favor, and he would not grant her request. She persisted, and finally he said, “Though I fear not God nor regard man, yet because this widow troubleth me I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.” Then the lesson taught: “And shall not God avenge his own elect which cry unto him day and night, though he bear long with them?” This certainly teaches that if one teases and worries God long enough, he will answer the prayer without regard to the rightfulness of the petition. Dr. Adam Clark says in his Commentary that the expression “she weary me” is a metaphor taken from boxers, “who bruise each other about the face, blacken the eyes!” We forbear to remark on this blasphemous doctrine.

We pass on without specifying the manifestly unjust principles laid down in the parables of the Laborers in the Vineyard, the Ten Talents, the Great Feast, and other parables, the manner in which he treated the woman of Canaan, the mystification and evasions he used, leaving her in doubt with regard to his real meaning, and the many instances in which he gave irrelevant answers and unfair and illogical conclusions. His teachings were notable for their obscurity and ambiguity; he tells us he did not desire to be understood; and no wonder that his most trusted disciples wrangled about his true meaning and came to opposite conclusions. His own family did not believe in him, and some persons thought him insane. Indeed, his mysterious and enigmatical style is so marked that it suggests whether, after all, what is said to have been spoken by Jesus was not the utterances and traditions of initiates in the second Christian century?

The claim of autocratic official authority to forgive and punish, to deny before God those who should deny him before men, to denounce whole cities for want of faith in him, to come in God’s name to judge all mankind, to proclaim everlasting punishment and declare that some should never be forgiven, mars the beauty of Jesus’ character. A real deficiency in his teaching was the absence of any explicit declaration of human brotherhood. It is a remarkable feet that no clear statement of this idea is recorded of Jesus. But the lack was supplied in a certain form by Paul, whose broader ethnic experience and more liberal culture made him recognize the demand more fully, and who was therefore bound to have it satisfied in his religious ideal. This was easy, since he had never seen Jesus, and could construct his personality as his own reverence and sense of human need might prompt.

The clearest statement of human brotherhood in the New Testament is that ascribed to Paul: “God hath made of one blood all the nations of the earth.” Yet even in Paul's mind it seems to have been conditioned on faith in his Master. All were “members of one another, whether Jew or Gentile, bond or free;” but it was only in so far as they were, or were fit to be, “in the body of Christ.” Cicero and Seneca rest human brotherhood on broader and deeper foundations. “All are members of one great body,” says Seneca also; but in what sense? “By the constitution of nature, which makes us kindred, and more miserable in doing than in receiving an injury; and by whose sway our hands are prepared for mutual help.” Paul says, “In Christ is neither bond nor free.” But Seneca says more broad-ly, “Virtue invites all, free-born, slaves, kings, exiles. It asks no questions about rank or wealth. It is content with the bare man.” Again, exhorting Nero, he says: “Do not ask how much of manumission is endurable, but how much the nature of justice and good will allows you which bids you spare even captives and persons bought with a price. Let slaves find refuge before the statute; if all things are permitted you (by custom and power) against a slave, there is that which the common law of life forbids to be done to a man; for the slave is of the same nature as yourself.” So Cicero says: “No other things are so alike as we are to each other;” “There is no one of any nation who cannot reach virtue by following the light of nature;” “The foundation of law is that nature has made us for the love of mankind.”

Other testimonies to like effect might easily be adduced from “heathen” writers of that age. And the later Stoics do but echo the thought of their predecessors from the days of Zeno and Cleanthes when they reiterate in the broadest terms the belief that men are created for the very purpose of mutual good. And Philo says: “We all are brothers by the highest kind of kindredship, as children of reason;” “Slavery is impious, as destroying the ordinances of nature, which generated all equally and brought them up as if brethren, not in name only, but in reality and truth.” But with the apostles of Christianity, as probably with Jesus himself, brotherhood was inseparable from belief in “the Christ.”

But let us not overlook the facts that the Gospels attribute to Jesus certain beliefs which our present knowledge positively contradicts, and even sentiments and claims which the highest morality cannot approve. For example, take his belief in diabolic possession; his claim of power to forgive sins and to judge mankind with his disciples on twelve thrones; his denunciation of cities that should not receive his messengers; his official retaliation (Matt. 10: 33); the unpardonable sin; his giving Peter the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and to his apostles the same powers; the second coming of the Son of man, with destruction of the world and the coming judgment day within that generation; condemning to endless punishment those who have not succored believers; no salvation to those found unrepentant at his coming; the sinning brother who will not hear the Church to be treated as a heathen; his sweeping denunciation of Pharisees and Scribes; a personal devil and an everlasting hell; power over deadly serpents and the taking of poisons without injury; the working of miracles by faith, even to the removing of mountains and tearing up trees, raising the dead, etc. etc. etc.

But not only are the teachings of Jesus subject to criticism, but his acts are equally so. Take for an example the manner in which he addressed his mother when found disputing with the doctors in the temple, but more particularly hear his words to his mother at the wedding in Cana. She told him that the wine had run out, and he answered in the most uncouth manner, “Woman, what have I to do with thee?” That is to say, of what concern was his mother to him, and what had he to do with her trouble about the wine being out? Then the making of the wine, upon which the people got drunk, was by no means worthy of imitation. The quantity, according to some divines, was not less than two or three hogsheads of intoxicating drink, enough to last the balance of the week. The guests were already drunk, and, though the wine was made out of water, it was nevertheless highly intoxicating. We might also mention his rude answer when his mother desired to speak to him (Mark 3: 21-35). At the time of his triumphal entrance into Jerusalem he took an “ass and colt,” the private property of some person, without permission, and the bystanders so understood it. He went immediately to the temple and beat out with a whip all the merchants (whom he calls thieves), all legitimate dealers in animals and doves for religious sacrifice, and violently overthrew the tables of the money-changers, whose business seems also to have been legitimate. This act was a “breach of the peace,” and in any civilized country would have been followed by arrest and imprisonment. It was not right that he should assert his authority by such disorderly conduct, and that too upon the eve of the celebration of a religious ceremony. When waited on by a most respectable deputation of public men who served officially (Matt. 23: 21) and inquired of him “by what authority he did such things,” instead of answering them frankly and making known to them his mission, he raised an irrelevant question, and because they could not tell whether “John’s baptism was from earth or heaven,” he refused to give any apology or explanation of his most treasonable and violent actions. He addressed the Scribes and Pharisees in the most extreme language, calling them “vipers,” “blind guides,” “hypocrites,” “serpents,” etc., and used fulminations that were calculated to excite the worst passions and the most atrocious acts. He told them that they were “whited sepulchres” and “fools.” When he was accepting the hospitalities of a Pharisee (Luke 11:37-54) he abused and denounced both the host and his guests. He is said to have looked on the Pharisees “with anger,” thus violating what he taught. His unjustifiable conduct toward the “barren fig tree” will not be overlooked. It was not the season for figs; he had no right to expect to find fruit on that tree, yet he “cursed” it, and here again destroyed private property without rendering an equivalent. So with the swine of the Gadarenes. This story is childish and wicked, and his action resulted in the destruction of animals which must have been valued at about four thousand pounds sterling. He was also chargeable with dissimulation greatly at variance with moral rectitude. When his brothers would have him go to Jerusalem to attend the feast of tabernacles he declined, and advised them to go without him. But when they had gone, “then went up also to the feast, as it were in secret” (John 7: 2-10).

He certainly here practised deceit. When walking with the two disciples to Emmaus he pretended to be another person, and when they arrived there he “made as though he would go farther that is, he pretended what he did not intend…” (Luke 24:13). He practised the utmost dissimulation in several particulars in the affair of Judas, and carried it even farther than the traitor. (Read and study Matt. 26: 46-50 and context.)

We might pursue this subject indefinitely. It is enough for our present purpose to affirm that many of the errors in natural philosophy, physiology, astronomy, and other sciences that prevailed in that day are implied or incorporated in the Gospels, with many prevailing superstitions, and that there are more mistakes and a greater number of contradictions in the four Gospels than in any other writings of the same length now extant in any language.

There is no one subject upon which so many books have been written as what are called “harmonies of the Gospels.” There are now more than one hundred such books extant, besides thousands that have gone out of print. Long ago as the seventeenth century Thomas Munn of London published such a book, on the title-page of which he states that he has reconciled three thousand contradictions. What does all this imply? Has it ever been found necessary to so reconcile the writings of Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Newton, or Bacon? Could not God make himself understood? It is an acknowledged fact among juriste that the discrepancies in the four Gospels would destroy the credibility of any four witnesses in any intelligent court of law.

We must here express our conviction that the Gospels, which profess to give the life of Jesus, are not original, genuine productions, and it is time to show how they came into existence and were palmed off by ecclesiastics as the productions of those whose names they bear.

About the time of the birth of Christianity almost every system of philosophy and religion centred at Alexandria in Egypt. The Essenes, though scattered throughout all the provinces of the Roman empire, had their head-quarters at Alexandria, where existed a flourishing university. To this centre of learning seekers after truth from all countries of the globe found their way, and, comparing their various systems, the result was the evolution of the Eclectic philosophy, made up of what was regarded as the best of every known faith.

Palestine and Egypt were geographically contiguous, and the commerce between them was general and constant through Alexandria. Here the various sects of Judaism came into direct contact with Greek and Oriental thought and philosophy, with which they had been made quite familiar during their captivity in Babylon. Pythagorean, Platonic, and even Zoroastrian and Buddhistic speculations were rife—were in the very air of Alexandria. It is notorious that in that city Christian theology assumed a systematic form. The first and best Christian manuscripts were Alexandrian, and so were the first bishops; so says Prof. Calvin E. Stowe.

It is impossible for any party to escape entirely from the influence of its surroundings. How could a new sect eighteen hundred years ago escape the influences that dominated the very atmosphere of Alexandria? Christianity, so called, did not escape this influence, but in a short time took an eclectic form made up of the then existing systems of faith and philosophy, so that we now find in it ingredients taken from every known system of religion and philosophy, including Judaism, Platonism, Zoroastrianism, and Buddhism.

Mosheim says this Eclectic philosophy, which “chose the good and rejected the evil out of every system that had been propounded to mankind,” was taught in the university of Alexandria when Christianity came into existence. A very interesting question arises in this connection, which few have paused to ponder—viz. What became of the sects of the Essenes and Therapeutists after the commencement of the Christian era? That they suddenly disappeared as sects is an historical fact. But what became of them? Is there anything more natural than to assume that they became the pioneers of the Christian Church, and, in fact, that it was these people to whom the name “Christian” was first given at Antioch? The entire New-Testament Scriptures are full of phrases and allusions which clearly show the Essenean admixture, of which many examples might be quoted. Even Eusebius, styled the “Father of ecclesiastical history,” without whose writings little or nothing is known of the early Christian Church, not only admits the close resemblance between this sect and Christianity, but he even claims that they were Christians.

A thorough investigation of this matter drives one to the conclusion that our Catholic Christianity came from Alexandria—virtually from the Essenean monks who flourished before the Augustan age, and that their writings are the foundation of our Gospels, re-edited, changed, and interpolated to suit times and occasions. Catholicism is the undoubted offshoot of Egyptian monkery, as Protestantism is an offshoot of Catholicism, and improperly called a Reformation. Paul probably became a sort of Martin Luther, and led the great schism from the Essenean Church, and it was then from a certain time called Christian. The four Greek Gospels of our New Testament were made up at Alexandria from Egyptian asceticism, and consist largely of a union of Neo-Platonism with Judaism, and is full of the occult and mystical so common in that period. They were not written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, as can be proved, and he who is called Jesus of Nazareth was nothing more than an Essenean impersonation. This view is honestly held by the writer, and did space permit he could give many pertinent reasons for it. Investigation in this direction would meet a rich reward.

Many pious persons here confront us, and inquire reproachfully, “What is the use of destroying the faith of the people in the Christian religion?” This question implies what is not true, as it is farthest possible from the object of these papers to ridicule or in any way to bring religion into disrepute. It is not only good principle, but it is also good policy, to always tell the truth. Why should we say, either directly or by implication, that Christianity is a supernatural religion when we know it to be of human origin, and can show just how, and when, and where it grew out of then existing creeds and systems of philosophy?

Is religion such a sham that it can best be subserved by falsehood and imposture? We think not. And if we should adopt the Jesuistic maxims, that “the end justifies the means” and that “pious intent hallows deceit,” it is simply impossible in this inquisitive scientific age to keep up a deception, however venerable for age and sacred from association. Knowledge is on the increase, and the people will not for ever wear bandages over their eyes, and, thus hoodwinked, swallow without question whatever is put into their mouths by the dispensers of theologic twaddle and priestly pap. Regarding Christianity as a special divine revelation recently made, it will not stand scientific and historic examination; but regarding it as of human origin, an evolution, a product of that age of pessimism which resulted from the disappointment of the Jews as to their national Messiah, and the disintegration and coming decadence and downfall of the Roman empire, coupled with the proclamation of the speedy destruction of the world itself, it is just what might have been expected—a religion of pessimism, of sorrow, of unworldliness, of evil forebodings.

“When the devil got sick, the devil a monk would be.” When Charles IV. of Spain was discomfited by the misfortunes of war, he sought solace in embroidering a petticoat for the Virgin Mary. Rancé had a domestic tragedy, and he founded the order of Trappist monks. Loyola would never have founded Jesuitism if he had not first been disfigured and crippled in a military siege. Dante was an exile when he wrote his Inferno, and John Calvin was a dyspeptic and suffered from rheumatism, gout, and stone when he wrote his Institutes. The most distinguished devotees to the religion of self-reproach have always been sufferers from headache and neuralgia, as “crippled foxes decry the vintage,” and grapes are always sour that are beyond reach.

The germs of Christianity grew out of the decaying carcasses of the Jewish commonwealth and the Roman empire, and as the worship of sorrow and unnaturalness it is not promotive of the highest virtue and the best interests of human society. It is only when the distinctive asceticism is eliminated and its extreme pessimism is destroyed by a rational optimism that it becomes a real blessing to humanity.

Every religion reflects the characteristics of the place and time of its birth, and the gloomy and melancholic temperaments of the dwellers by the Jordan, the Nile, and the Euphrates thoroughly permeated and impregnated the sects of those countries.

Regarding Christianity as of human origin, we are at liberty to cast aside its lugubrious spirit, its impracticable unworldliness and unnaturalness, and with higher esteem, and a more genuine heartfelt appreciation, and a sincere acceptance and approval we are free to adopt and glorify its general humane spirit under the divine impulse of the universal Fatherhood of God.

The real religious basis is that he serves God best who serves man best, and the coming of the kingdom of God is concomitant with the coming of the kingdom of man.

The claim of infallibility is always suspicious, and there is no finality in religious truth and progress; and it cannot be doubted that the religion of the nineteenth century is as great an improvement upon the religion of the first as our civilization, science, commerce, and the mechanic arts are superior. Prof. Max Müller, of the orthodox University of Oxford, well says: “The elements and roots of religion were there as far back as we can trace the history of man, and the history of religion, like the history of language, shows us throughout a succession of new combinations of the same radical elements.” In no system of religion is the principle of combination, of previously existing forms of creed and conduct, so apparent as in the Christian religion. It is the best because it is the latest of the great religions, and contains the best selections and combinations of all previously existing ones, Jewish and pagan.

Our faith in the sublime moral precepts of Christianity is increased and strengthened as we realize that they are thousands of years old, that they are the accumulated products of the ages—an evolution from the consummated wisdom of all previously existing religionists of all times and countries. God’s real revelations to man are from within, and they would not be any more divine if they were from without. Of nothing can we be so sure as that God will take care of his own eternal truth, and cause it to shine forth with more radiant splendor as knowledge shall increase and true science shall learn to read more intelligently the records of the divine character and will in the infallible book of nature.

Ecclesiastical tomtits may twitter and flutter, and theological owls may look solemn and wise and hoot out their gloomy forebodings, but the true ark of Nature’s covenant is safe.:

“Ever the truth comes uppermost,And ever is justice done.”

The only safe position, because it is the only true one, is that there is a God in the universe, and that it is the divine order to make known his will by slow and uniform processes, and not by sudden and miraculous revelations.

The principle of evolution is just as true in its application to moral and spiritual things as it is in regard to the material world, and another Darwin will some day arise who will demonstrate the fact. Indeed, this field is “ripe for the harvest,” as several new sciences, not dreamed of until within a half century past, are revealing facts and establishing principles which are sure to consign the old supernaturalism to regions of superstition and priestcraft.