If a man will examine his works by a comparative view of them with others; — this, no doubt, would be the fairer way, and least likely to mislead him. — But as this is seldom the method this trial is gone through, — in fact it generally turns out to be as treacherous and delusive to the man himself, — as it is uncandid to the man, who is dragged into the comparison; and whoever judges of himself by this rule, — so long as there is no scarcity of vicious characters in the world,— ’tis to be feared, he will often take the occasions of triumph and rejoicing, — where in truth, he ought rather to be sorry and ashamed.
A third error in the manner of proving our works, is what we are guilty of, when we leave out of the calculation the only material parts of them; — I mean, the motives and first principles from whence they proceeded. There is many a fair instance of generosity, chastity, and self-denial, which the world may give a man the credit of, — which if he would give himself the leisure to reflect upon and trace back to their first springs, — he would be conscious, proceeded from such views and intentions, as if known, would not be to his honor. — The truth of this may be made evident by a thousand instances in life; — and yet there is nothing more usual than for a man when he is going upon this duty of self-examination, — instead of calling his own ways to remembrance, — to close the whole enquiry at once, with this short challenge; —
“That he defies the world to say ill of him.”
If the world has no express evidence, this indeed may be an argument of his good luck; — but no satisfactory one, of the real goodness and innocence of his life. — A man may be a very bad man, — and yet through caution, — through deep-laid policy and design may so guard all outward appearances, as never to want this negative testimony on his side; — that the world knows no evil of him, — how little soever he deserves it. — Of all assays upon a man’s self, this may be said to be the slightest; this method of proving the goodness of our works — differing but little in kind from that unhappy one, which many unwary people take in proving the goodness of their coin, — who, if it happens to be suspicious, — instead of bringing it either to the ballance or the touch-stone to try its worth, — they ignorantly go forth; try, if they can pass it upon the world: — if so, all is well, and they are saved all the expence and pains of enquiring after and detecting the cheat.
A fourth error in this duty of examination of men’s works, — is that of committing the task to others; — an error into which thousands of well-meaning creatures are ensnared in the Romish church by her doctrines of auricular confession, of works of supererogation, and the many lucrative practices raised upon that capital stock. — The trade of which is carried to such a height in Popish countries, that if you was at Rome or Naples now, and was disposed in compliance with the apostle’s exhortation in the text, — to set about this duty, to prove your own works,— ’tis great odds whether you would be suffered to do it yourself, without interruption; and you might be said to have escaped well, if the first person you consulted upon it did not talk you out of your resolution, and possibly your senses too at the same time. — Prove your works? — for heaven’s sake, desist from so rash an undertaking; — what! — trust your own skill and judgment in a matter of so much difficulty and importance — when there are so many whose business it is, — who understand it so well, and who can do it for you with so much safety and advantage!
If your works must be proved, you would be advised by all means to send them to undergo this operation with some one who knows what he is about, either some expert and noted confessor of the church, — or to some Convent or religious society, who are in possession of a large stock of good works of all kinds, wrought up by saints and confessors, where you may suit yourself — and either get the defects of your own supplied, — or be accommodated with new ones ready proved to your hands, sealed, and certified to be so, by the Pope’s commissary and the notaries of his ecclesiastic court. There needs little more to lay open this fatal error, — than barely to represent it. So I shall only add a short remark, — that they who are persuaded to be thus virtuous by proxy, and will prove the goodness of their works only by deputies, — will have no reason to complain against God’s justice, — if he suffers them to go to heaven, only in the same manner, — that is, — by deputies too.
The last mistake which I shall have time to mention, is that which the methodists have revived, for ’tis no new error — but one which has misled thousands before these days wherever enthusiasm has got footing, — and that is, — the attempting to prove their works, by that very argument which is the greatest proof of their weakness and superstition; — I mean that extraordinary impulse and intercourse with the Spirit of God which they pretend to, and whose operations (if you trust them) are so sensibly felt in their hearts and souls, as to render at once all other proofs of their works needless to themselves. — This, I own, is one of the the most summary ways of proceeding in this duty of self-examination, and as it proves a man’s works in the gross, it saves him a world of sober thought and enquiry after many vexatious particulars.
Indeed, if the premises were true, — the inference is direct. For when a man dreams of these inward workings — and wakes with the impression of them strong upon his brain;— ’tis not strange, he should think himself a chosen vessel, — sanctified within and sealed up unto the perfect day of redemption; and so long as such a one is led captive to this error, — there is nothing in nature to induce him to this duty of examining his own works in the sense of the apostle: — for however bad they are, — so long as his credulity and enthusiasm equals them, ’tis impossible they should disturb his conscience or frighten him into a reformation. These are some of the unhappy mistakes in the many methods this work is set about, — which in a great measure rob us of the fruits we expected — and sometimes so entirely blast them, that we are neither the better or wiser for all the pains we have taken.
There are many other false steps, which lead us the same way, — but the delineation of these however may serve at present, not only as so many land-marks to guard us from this dangerous coast which I have described, but to direct us likewise into that safe one, where we can only expect the reward the gospel promises. For, if according to the first recited causes, a man fails in examining his works from a disinclination to reform them, — from partiality of comparisons, — from flattery to his own motives, and a vain dependence upon the opinion of the world, — the conclusion is unavoidable, — that he must search for the qualities the most opposite to these for his conductors. — And if he hopes to discharge this work so as to have advantage from it, — that he must set out upon the principles of an honest head, willing to reform itself, and attached principally to that object, without regard to the spiritual condition of others, or the misguided opinions which the world may have of himself.
That for this end — he must call his own ways to remembrance, and search out his spirit, — search his actions with the same critical exactness and same piercing curiosity, we are wont to sit in judgment upon others; — varnishing nothing — and disguising nothing. If he proceeds thus, and in every relation of life takes a full view of himself without prejudice — traces his actions to their principles without mercy, and looks into the dark corners and recesses of his heart without fear — and upon such an enquiry — he acts consistent with his view in it, by reforming his errors, separating the dross and purifying the whole mass with repentance; — this will bid fair for examining a man’s works in the apostle’s sense: — and whoever discharges the duty thus — with a view to scripture, which is the rule in this case — and to reason, which is the applier of this rule in all cases — need not fear but he will have what the apostle calls rejoicing in himself, and that he will lay the foundation of his peace and comfort where it ought to lay — that is, within himself — in the testimony of a good conscience, and the joyful expectation that having done his utmost to examine his own works here, that God will accept them hereafter through the merits of Christ, which God grant,
Amen.
SERMON XV. JOB’S EXPOSTULATION WITH HIS WIFE.
JOB II. 10.
What! — shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil also?
THESE are the words of Job uttered in the depth of his misfortunes, by way of reproof to his wife, for the counsel we find she had given him in the forgoing verse; namely, not to retain his integrity any longer, — but to curse God and die. Though it is not very evident, what was particularly meant and implied in the words —
“Curse God and die,”
— yet it is certain from Job’s reply to them, that they directed him to some step, which was rash and unwarrantable, and probably, as it is generally explained, meant that he should openly call God’s justice to an account, and by a blasphemous accusation of it, provoke God to destroy his being: as if she had said, — After so many sad things which have befallen thee, notwithstanding thy integrity, what gainest thou by serving God, seeing he bears thus hard upon thee, as though thou wast his enemy? — ought so faithful a servant as thou hast been, to receive so much unkind treatment at his hands; — and tamely to submit to it? — patiently to sustain the evils he has brought upon thy house, and neither murmur with thy lips, nor charge him with injustice? — bear it not thus; — and as thy piety could not at first protect thee from such misfortunes, — nor thy behaviour under them could since move God to take pity on thee; — change thy conduct towards him, — boldly expostulate with him, — upbraid him openly with unkindness, — call his justice and providence to an account for oppressing thee in so undeserved a manner, and get that benefit by provoking him, which thou hast not been able to obtain by serving him; — to die at once by his hands, and be freed, at least, from the greater misery of a lingering, and a more tormenting death.
On the other hand, some interpreters tell us, — that the word curse, in the original, is equivocal, and does more literally signify here, to bless, than to blaspheme, and consequently that the whole is rather to be considered as a sarcastical scoff at Job’s piety. — As if it had been said; — Go to, — bless God, — and die; — since thou art so ready to praise him in troubles as thou hast done, go on in thy own way, and see how God will reward thee, by a miserable death which thou can’st not avoid.
Without disputing the merits of these two interpretations, it may not seem an improbable conjecture, that the words imply something still different from what is expressed in either of them, — and instead of supposing them as an incitement to blaspheme God, — which was madness, — or that they were intended as an insult, — which was unnatural; — that her advice to curse God and die, was meant here, that he should resolve upon a voluntary death himself, which was an act not only in his own power, but what carried some appearance of a remedy with it, and promised, at least at first sight, some respite from pain, as it would put an end, both to his life, and his misfortunes together.
One may suppose that with all the concern and affection which was natural, she beheld her lord afflicted both with poverty and sickness; — by one sudden blow brought down from his palace to the dunghill. — In one mournful day, she saw, that not only the fortunes of his house were blasted, but likewise the hopes of his posterity cut off for ever by the untimely loss of his children. — She knew he was a virtuous and an upright man, and deserved a better fate; — her heart bled the more for him — , she saw the prospect before him was dreadful, — that there appeared no possible means, which could retrieve the sad situation of his affairs, — that death, the last — the surest friend to the unfortunate, could only set him free; — and that it was better to resolve upon that at once, than vainly endeavour to wade through such a sea of troubles, which in the end would overwhelm him. — We may suppose her spirits sinking under those apprehensions, when she began to look upon his constancy as a fruitless virtue, and from that persuasion, to have said unto him, — Curse God, — depend no longer upon him, nor wait the issues of his providence which has already forsaken thee; — as there is no help from that quarter, — resolve to extricate thyself — and since thou hast met with no justice in this world, — leave it, — die — and force thy passage into a better country, where misfortunes cannot follow thee.
Whether this paraphrase upon the words is just, or the former interpretations be admitted, — the reply in the text is equally proper; — What! — shall we receive good at the hands of God, and shall we not receive evil also? Are not both alike the dispensations of an all-wise, and good being, who knows and determines what is best? and wherefore should I make myself the judge, to receive the one, and yet be so partial as to reject the other, when by fairly putting both into the scale, I may be convinced how much the good outweighs the evil in all cases? in my own, consider how strong this argument is against me.
In the beginning of my days, how did God crown me with honor? In how remarkable a manner did his providence set a hedge about me, and about all that I had on every side? — how he prospered the works of my hands, so that our substance and happiness increased every day?
And now, when for reasons best known to his infinite wisdom, he has thought fit to try me with afflictions, — shall I rebell against him in sinning with my lips, and charging him foolishly? — God forbid. — O rather may I look up towards that hand which has bruised me, — for he maketh sore and he bindeth up, — he woundeth and his hands make whole; from his bounty only has issued all I had, from his wisdom, — all I have lost, for he giveth and he hath taken away, — blessed be his name.
There are few instances of particular virtue more engaging than those, of this heroic cast, and if we may take the testimony of a heathen philosopher upon it, there is not an object in this world which God can be supposed to look down upon with greater pleasure, than that of a good man involved in misfortunes, surrounded on all sides with difficulties, — yet chearfully bearing up his head, and struggling against them with firmness and constancy of mind. — Certainly to our conceptions such objects must be truly engaging, — and the reason of so exalted an encomium from this hand, is easy to be guessed: no doubt the wisest of the heathen philosophers had found from observation upon the life of man, that the many troubles and infirmities of his nature, the sicknesses, disappointments, sorrows for the loss of children or property, with the numberless other calamities and cross accidents, to which the life of man is subject, were in themselves so great, — and so little solid comfort to be administered from the mere refinements of philosophy in such emergencies, that there was no virtue which required greater efforts, or which was found so difficult to be atchieved upon moral principles; upon moral principles — which had no foundation to sustain this great weight, which the infirmities of our nature laid upon it. And for this reason ’tis observable that there is no subject, upon which the moral writers of antiquity have exhausted so much of their eloquence, or where they have spent such time and pains, as in this of endeavouring to reconcile men to these evils. Insomuch, that from thence in most modern languages, the patient enduring of affliction has by degrees obtained the name of philosophy, and almost monopolized the word to itself, as if it was the chief end, or compendium of all the wisdom which philosophy had to offer. And indeed considering what lights they had, some of them wrote extremely well; yet, as what they said proceeded more from the head, than the heart, ’twas generally more calculated to silence a man in his troubles, than to convince, and teach him how to bear them. And therefore however subtle and ingenious their arguments might appear in the reading, ’tis to be feared they lost much of their efficacy, when tried in the application. If a man was thrust back in the world by disappointments, or — as was Job’s case — had suffered a sudden change in his fortunes, from an affluent condition was brought down by a train of cruel accidents, and pinched with poverty, — philosophy would come in, and exhort him to stand his ground; — it would tell him that the same greatness and strength of mind, which enabled him to behave well in the days of his prosperity, should equally enable him to behave well in the days of his adversity; —
that it was the property of only weak and base spirits, who were insolent in the one, to be dejected and overthrown by the other: whereas great and generous souls were at all times calm and equal. — As they enjoyed the advantages of life with indifference, — they were able to resign them with the same temper, — and consequently — were out of the reach of fortune. All which, however fine, and likely to satisfy the fancy of a man at ease, could convey but little consolation to a heart already pierced with sorrow, — nor is it to be conceived how an unfortunate creature should any more receive relief from such a lecture, however just, than a man racked with an acute fit of the gout or stone, could be supposed to be set free from torture, by hearing from his physician a nice dissertation upon his case. The philosophic consolations in sickness, or in afflictions for the death of friends and kindred, were just as efficacious, — and were rather in general to be considered as good sayings than good remedies. — So that, if a man was bereaved of a promising child, in whom all his hopes and expectations centered — or a wife was left destitute to mourn the loss and protection of a kind and tender husband, Seneca or Epictetus would tell the pensive parent and disconsolate widow, — that tears and lamentation for the dead were fruitless and absurd; — that to die, was the necessary and unavoidable debt of nature; — and as it could admit of no remedy— ’twas impious and foolish to grieve and fret themselves upon it. Upon which sage counsel, as well as many other lessons of the same stamp, the same reflection might be applied, which is said to have been made by one of the roman emperors, to one who administered the same consolation to him on a like occasion — to whom advising him to be comforted, and make himself easy, since the event had been brought about by a fatality and could not be helped, — he replied —
Complete Works of Laurence Sterne Page 89
